Sonny Terry Folkway

Recorded in 1958, this legendary date with the still-undersung Sonny Clark in the leader's chair also featured a young Jackie McLean on alto (playing with a smoother tone than he had before or ever did again), trumpeter Art Farmer, and the legendary rhythm section of bassist Paul Chambers and drummer Philly Joe Jones, both from the Miles Davis band. The set begins with one of the preeminent "swinging medium blues" pieces in jazz history: the title track with its leveraged fours and eights shoved smoothly up against the walking bass of Chambers and the backbeat shuffle of Jones. Clark's solo, with its grouped fifths and sevenths, is a wonder of both understatement and groove, while Chambers' arco solo turns the blues in on itself. While there isn't a weak note on this record, there are some other tracks that stand out, most notably Miles' "Sippin' at Bells," with its loping Latin rhythm…

This album by the Rice Miller fellow who called himself Sonny Boy Williamson - in other words, the Mississippi harmonica player rather than the Tennessee harmonica player - may have been one of the best volumes in the grim-looking series of single-album reissues and collections Chess put out before switching to double-album sets. Those who enjoy both blues and the film noir style will enjoy the graphic design of these albums, which often sported singularly unattractive photography of the artists. The grainy, out-of-focus picture of Williamson that fills this front cover is no exception; in fact, in a way, it established the rule. It isn't that he looks mean, he just looks like he could care less. Such a look of indifference has perhaps never before been captured by the camera. It could easily have been taken during some of the discussion that occurs between the artist and his producers during the recording of a song called "Little Village"…

This album by the Rice Miller fellow who called himself Sonny Boy Williamson - in other words, the Mississippi harmonica player rather than the Tennessee harmonica player - may have been one of the best volumes in the grim-looking series of single-album reissues and collections Chess put out before switching to double-album sets. Those who enjoy both blues and the film noir style will enjoy the graphic design of these albums, which often sported singularly unattractive photography of the artists. The grainy, out-of-focus picture of Williamson that fills this front cover is no exception; in fact, in a way, it established the rule. It isn't that he looks mean, he just looks like he could care less. Such a look of indifference has perhaps never before been captured by the camera. It could easily have been taken during some of the discussion that occurs between the artist and his producers during the recording of a song called "Little Village"…

While the comparisons to Charlie Parker were inevitable throughout a good part of his career, Sonny Stitt was very much his own man. He is in top form throughout this 1957 session made for Verve, featuring a very young Bobby Timmons on piano, bassist Edgar Willis, and drummer Kenny Dennis. Alternating between alto and tenor saxophone in a program consisting mostly of standards, Stitt is equally at home on each horn. His soulful tenor shines in "Easy Living," while the loping "Autumn in New York" showcases his exuberant alto. Timmons, who had just made his recording debut as a sideman with Kenny Burrell the previous year, hints at his potential with a blues-drenched solo in "You'd Be So Nice to Come Home To." One of Stitt's best recordings at this point in his career.

Dizzy Gillespie brings together tenor saxophonists Sonny Stitt and Sonny Rollins for four extended cuts, and in the process comes up with one of the most exciting "jam session" records in the jazz catalog. While the rhythm section of pianist Ray Bryant, bassist Tommy Bryant, and drummer Charlie Persip provides solid rhythmic support, Stitt and Rollins get down to business trading fours and reeling off solo fireworks. Apparently, Gillespie had stoked the competitive fires before the session with phone calls and some gossip, the fallout of which becomes palpable as the album progresses. On "The Eternal Triangle," in particular, Stitt and Rollins impress in their roles as tenor titans, with Stitt going in for sheer muscle as that most stout of bebop cutters and Rollins opting for some pacing as a more thematic player…

Recorded in 1958, this legendary date with the still-undersung Sonny Clark in the leader's chair also featured a young Jackie McLean on alto (playing with a smoother tone than he had before or ever did again), trumpeter Art Farmer, and the legendary rhythm section of bassist Paul Chambers and drummer Philly Joe Jones, both from the Miles Davis band. The set begins with one of the preeminent "swinging medium blues" pieces in jazz history: the title track with its leveraged fours and eights shoved smoothly up against the walking bass of Chambers and the backbeat shuffle of Jones. Clark's solo, with its grouped fifths and sevenths, is a wonder of both understatement and groove, while Chambers' arco solo turns the blues in on itself. While there isn't a weak note on this record, there are some other tracks that stand out, most notably Miles' "Sippin' at Bells," with its loping Latin rhythm…

Sonny Rodgers learned guitar from his father and was influenced by B.B. King, Robert Nighthawk and Muddy Waters. After forming his first band at the age of 17, he recorded as accompanist to Forest City Joe Pugh in 1959. Two years later, Rodgers settled in Minneapolis, beginning a long association with Mojo Burford. He also recorded with Lazy Bill Lucas. In the early 70s Rodgers had a spell as guitarist in Muddy Waters’ band, and after some years out of music, he formed his own band in the 80s, winning several music awards in Minnesota. His Blue Moon single ‘Big Leg Woman/Cadillac Blues’ was voted ‘Blues Single Of 1990’ in the international W.C. Handy awards. Rodgers only made one full album, which was highly acclaimed on its release, and tragically coincided with his death on 7 May 1990, just prior to a tour of the UK.

Iconic guitarist Jimmy Raney and legendary pianist Sonny Clark’s paths crossed only during a European tour promoted by Leonard Feather in 1954, which included concerts in several countries and also allowed Feather time to organize a few studio dates here and there.
Jimmy Raney (guitar) and Sonny Clark (piano) are featured with Costa Theselius (tenor sax), Red Mitchell/Simon Brehm (bass) and Bobby White/Elaine Leighton (drums).

This 1982 recording features saxophonist Sonny Simmons and drummer Billy Higgins and a smokin' pickup band that included bassist Herbie Lewis and pianist Joe Bonner, and a horn section that added Michael Marcus on baritone, Al Thomas on trombone, and Joe Hardin on trumpet. The opener is "Sparrow's Last Jump," a stomping hard bop workout that features Simmons in top lyrical form and Lewis bowing the entire tune, despite the fact that it's based on hard bop – hell, post-hard bop – changes and is played in 6/8 Mingus tempo! Of course, Higgins is dancing all over the kit and it's obvious that, in his solo, Simmons is reading that frenetic yet seamless dance because he goes over the time signature with his legato phrasing and cascades his arpeggios right through the middle of the intervals. It settles a bit on the title track, where the horns are left out so Simmons is sitting in only the rhythm section. Here, Higgins plays out a double-time rhythm on the ride cymbal before slowing it to four.

By this point in his career, Sonny hardly needed a tune up in his style - but the album's a great one from his post-Prestige years, and a real back-to-basics effort that recalls the genius of his work on Roost! The format is straight and simple - Stitt's tenor and alto fronting a quartet that includes Barry Harris, Sam Jones, and Alan Dawson - all playing in a way that puts Sonny in command on all tracks, blowing with an amazing tone that makes us want to throw away all his funk, organ, and electric outings, and just concentrate on these straight acoustic sides. Stitt has a way of blowing the reed like he's got his whole mouth moving into the sax - an earthy, human, and personal feel that first came out strongly in his work during the late 50s, but which has grown even more by this point - even if you couldn't hear the development on other sets.