In the Best Spirit

Gunther Schuller, in his authoritative and comprehensive new text The Swing Era, speculates on the reasons that Benny Carter has not received the acclaim of the public which marks the careers of Duke Ellington and Louis Armstrong. Carter is a composer of remarkable stature whose compositions are in some ways more accessible than Ellington's, at least to the casual ear. And he is a consummate musician, a master not only of the alto sax but of the trumpet and clarinet as well. His association with hundreds of musicians and his leadership of scores of bands over his considerable lifetime makes him one of the most highly respected personalities among jazz players of all ages and inclinations. Why then this invisibility in the larger eye of the masses?

Schuller cites his own reasons, the most convincing of which is that Carter's great versatility has deprived him of a trademark so necessary for immediate recognition ("One O'clock Jump" with Basie's "sign­-on" rhythm section and pianistic punctuation. for example). I am less convinced by Schuller's argument that Carter's earlier playing lacked a distinctive passion so in keeping with great jazz players. (Schuller admits that in maturity that defect, if it existed, has been corrected by a mellow forcefulness that singles out Carter among any number of players.) In any case, as elder statesman, Carter is now very visible to an increasingly appreciative public, thanks in no small part to the success of his work with the American Jazz Orchestra and in particular Central City Sketches.

In my view, an album of small group jazz like Over the Rainbow highlights another reason why Carter has lived his life just this side of the spotlight: he recognizes in his leadership the essentially egalitarian nature of jazz. The heart of jazz is improvisation, conversation between competent instrumentalists who build upon each other's creativity, who listen to each other's statements and extend and extrapolate upon them. There is a certain contradiction built into the genre. Individuality has made jazz what it is but, nonetheless, it is a corporate venture, less socialistic than democratic. If it has all the vigor of a town meeting there is an unwritten rule that gentility and complementariness shall prevail. What results is a style of leadership that assumes some self-effacement so that others may take the floor for consensus-building.

Over the Rainbow makes my case. Carter has assembled here musicians’ musicians from all over the globe for an "all out'' blowing session. Herb Geller and Jimmy Heath hail from the post-bop West Coast school of jazz, but their roots run deep in the Dexter Gordon deep-throated sound as well. Milt Hinton goes as far back as Cab Calloway but was there when Diz and Bird broke the barriers. Richard Wyands plays a lean and sparse piano but has accompanied the vociferous Illinois Jacquet. Joe Temperley, on baritone sax, gives just the right Harry Carney/Ellington-based contrapuntal flavor to the arrangements. Frank Wess is famous for his work with Basie in the 50s and '60s, especially his pioneering flute on such classics as "Shiny Stockings."

And therein lies the difficulty. Carter has assembled these men, put together some fine arrangements (he resurrects Quincy Jones' theme from The Pawnbroker with great poignancy), including his own compositions, and then he sits in as one among the many; he wants the music to speak for itself. There are the fine ensemble statements of "The Gal from Atlanta" ("Sweet Georgia Brown") but the equally eloquent separate voicings for altos and tenors in “Straight Talk.” And everybody has plenty of room to stretch out on each selection. Benny Carter has the right and the skill to assume center stage as the master musician he is at 82. But instead he chooses to give us a forum for creativity in the best spirit of democratic exchange.