Les McCann & Eddie Harris: Swiss Movement

Jazz is usually far outside the purview of this blog, mostly because we can’t begin to pretend to be anything of an expert. We know what we like, and try to ignore what we don’t. Plus, there’s an awful lot of it, and navigating the billions of existing albums, reissues, repackagings and such can be daunting for anyone on a limited budget or overwhelmed by the near-century’s worth of recordings waiting to be discovered. It won’t be easy to find needles in that particular haystack, and besides, if you start with Kind Of Blue, as we did, where the hell do you go from there?

Like all music, jazz is a mathematical code, whether strictly mapped out in chords or as a launch pad for more avant-garde explorations. Jazz musicians are defined by their work ethic, constantly playing and constantly evolving. While some people in that genre have boldly pursued stardom, most of those who have eked out a career playing music have done it for the love of the art. They are compelled to play, and a gig is a gig, whether it’s a small club, recording session or chance jam session. These people flat out work, and do it as long as their fingers and/or lips can function.

When pianist Les McCann and sax player Eddie Harris brought their respective combos to the Montreux Jazz Festival in 1969, somebody suggested these two leaders play a set together, and they did, with little preparation. Their set was preserved on tape, and became the Swiss Movement album. (There’s another constant in the jazz world: clever titles.) So many summits hope to catch lightning in a bottle, and we should be thankful that this one exists. This is toe-tapping music, not at all esoteric, and very accessible to new ears. Piano, trumpet, sax, upright bass and drums interlock in front a crowd truly into it.

That’s enough to make for an enjoyable listen, but what’s made Swiss Movement such a grower is the first track, and the only one with a vocal. It starts with an insistent piano bass part, and the band kicks in right away, following McCann through some impressionistic chords. He finds a root to follow, moves up a half step at a time while Harris trills along, and eventually lands on F for the vamp that drives the rest of the song. Then he begins to sing.
Written and performed in the shadow of the Vietnam War, civil unrest and revolving presidents, “Compared To What” could be considered a protest song, even in its original R&B take by Roberta Flack. Once Les McCann got hold of it, Roberta had to find another song to make famous.

His voice grabs the words, shakes them around and spits them out, and with the push of a glorious snare hit, ends each verse with the same frustration: “Tryin’ to make it real—compared to what?” Solos fill the spaces between the verses, split and shared by Harris and Benny Bailey on trumpet, underscoring the attitude, particularly one outburst that has gotten DJs kicked off college radio stations for playing it.

Enjoyment of music is a personal thing, but it can also be communal. Most music lovers we know get a huge kick out of turning somebody else on to something new to the ears, which is almost as exciting as discovering a common bond in a beloved recording. That’s probably the best way to learn about jazz—listen to what other people love, and that will help you find your own note. This mind vividly remembers hearing “Compared To What” for the first time, and finding others just as thrilled by it is always exhilarating. Just as music should be.

Les McCann & Eddie Harris Swiss Movement (1969)—4

David Darling: Cycles

The ECM label specializes in jazz with a European bent, though such a generalization is not entirely accurate. The music tends to be very atmospheric and usually experimental, with eclectic cover art to match. When the Windham Hill label started, it was ECM Records they tried to emulate. As a result, and after the fact, ECM has been lumped in with the New Age category. True, there are some similarities between performers and even content, but it’s an unfair dismissal. Trying to describe an ECM record is like dancing clumsily, badly and loudly about Architectural Digest.

Since their inception, the label has boasted many big names in jazz, including Keith Jarrett, Chick Corea, Charlie Haden and Pat Metheny. One of their more successful pairings was the Norwegian saxophonist Jan Garbarek with the Hilliard Ensemble male vocal quartet. Just because you like one ECM record doesn’t necessarily guarantee you’ll like another—or any other—but their standard is of such high quality that once you’re in, anything they do is worth checking out. Some of our favorite recordings have emerged this way, including Pat Metheny’s New Chautauqua, Ralph Towner’s Diary, Eberhard Weber’s Later That Evening, Keith Jarrett’s Köln Concert, The Hilliard Ensemble’s Lamentations Of Jeremiah and Jan Garbarek’s I Took Up The Runes.

Garbarek, a favorite of label owner and producer Manfred Eicher, was essentially the reason why ECM Records got started. In addition to his own vast discography, he appears on many albums in the ECM catalog, including one of the brightest of the hidden gems in the history of music. Cycles is credited to the cellist David Darling, but is essentially an ensemble piece, with prominent contributions on every track from Garbarek, Steve Kuhn on piano, Arild Andersen on bass, Oscar Castro-Neves on guitar, and the late, great Colin Walcott (most famous for his work in Oregon with Ralph Towner) on sitar, tabla and percussion.

The opener, “Cycle Song”, features a series of relative chords in fifths, not dissimilar to “Thanksgiving” from George Winston’s December. The combination of piano and cello was the sound our mind’s ear had heard for years, finally realized. “Cycle One: Namasté” offers a spooky little theme for Garbarek to spring from, and something of a setup for the epic, aptly-titled “Fly”. Side two begins almost abruptly with “Ode”, which was originally recorded under the title “Ode To A Fillmore Dressing Room” on Icarus by the Paul Winter Consort. “Cycle Two: Trio” and “Cycle Three: Quintet And Coda” are lengthy yet engrossing extrapolations on similar themes. The closing “Jessica's Sunwheel” is almost an anticlimax, as it breaks out of the predominantly modal structures of the previous tracks.

This hardly does justice to the experience of hearing the album itself, and Cycles is not for everyone. It works best at dusk, on grey rainy mornings, and particularly on yuletide nights with only the lights of the tree on. The ECM site doesn’t offer audio samples, but Amazon does. Since the label has never gone overboard promoting any of their releases, it’s never been easy to find. We got it as a gift one wonderful Christmas, in a pile of secondhand LPs selected for their importance to the giver in the hope that we’d appreciate them too. And we did. If it resonates with you, Constant Reader, then there’s a chance it might lead to you other wonderful albums as well. Isn’t it great when music does that?

David Darling Cycles (1982)—4