It's touching that Charles Mingus, on what would be his last appearance on record as a bassist, should have hooked up once more with Lionel Hampton, with whom he first recorded almost 30 years to the day earlier in 1947. It's upbeat, bright, and chirpy, like Hamp's vibes, and Mingus' inimitable sense of line comes through the somewhat horn-heavy band lineup without difficulty (Mingus' last working band, featuring Jack Walrath on trumpet, Ricky Ford on tenor, and pianist Bob Neloms, is augmented not only by Hampton but also by Paul Jeffrey's tenor and Gerry Mulligan's distinctively gruff baritone), but it all somehow lacks the depth – acoustically as well as musically – of other great late Mingus albums such as Changes One, Changes Two, and Cumbia & Jazz Fusion.
The music Charles Mingus and his group recorded during his landmark 1960 sessions for Candid Records produced three of the most revered jazz albums of the era - INCARNATIONS is a new masterpiece thoughtfully assembled from rare and unreleased material from those sessions that stands proudly in the Mingus canon of masterworks.
When producer Rocco Pandiani approached Maestro Attilio Zanchi about collaborating on an album for Mono Jazz label, he discovered Zanchi's longstanding passion project: a tribute to jazz legend Charles Mingus, which he had nurtured for two decades with a close-knit group of musicians. Initially, Pandiani had a different project in mind, so to convince him, Zanchi swiftly organized a concert in Milan featuring the full septet. The electrifying performance ended with the audience ecstatically cheering and dancing. Impressed, Rocco agreed to proceed with the record production, which took place three months later at Novenove studio in Milan.
The Clown was Charles Mingus' second masterpiece in a row, upping the already intense emotional commitment of Pithecanthropus Erectus and burning with righteous anger and frustration. With Pithecanthropus, Mingus displayed a gift for airtight, focused arrangements that nonetheless allowed his players great freedom to add to the established mood of each piece. The Clown refines and heightens that gift; instead of just writing heads that provide launch points for solos, Mingus tries to evoke something specific with every piece, and even his most impressionistic forays have a strong storytelling quality.
The Clown was Charles Mingus' second masterpiece in a row, upping the already intense emotional commitment of Pithecanthropus Erectus and burning with righteous anger and frustration. With Pithecanthropus, Mingus displayed a gift for airtight, focused arrangements that nonetheless allowed his players great freedom to add to the established mood of each piece. The Clown refines and heightens that gift; instead of just writing heads that provide launch points for solos, Mingus tries to evoke something specific with every piece, and even his most impressionistic forays have a strong storytelling quality. In fact, The Clown's title cut makes that explicit with a story verbally improvised by Jean Shepherd (yes, the same Jean Shepherd responsible for A Christmas Story) from a predetermined narrative…
The righteous and bombastic nature of the great bassist/composer Charles Mingus made him a polarizing personality. His unique personality, combined with his groundbreaking music, were magnetic for open-minded listeners. Clarinetist Harry Skoler discovered Mingus and his music early in life. This discovery would change his entire trajectory as a person and musician, which Skoler celebrates on his new recording, Living In Sound: The Music of Charles Mingus.
Composer and bassist Charles Mingus’s legendary status is undeniable. Tributes to his genius tend to come up short because there isn’t a way to improve what he has already wrought. One element of Mingus’s vision that tends to get overlooked was his ability to create singular ensembles of strong, individual performers to play his music, ensembles that have gone down in history as some of the greatest of all time.
So many of the jazz great are now gone, a fact that no one would dispute but that really hits home after listening to a masterpiece such as this reissue of Charles Mingus' Mingus Moves. Not only have we lost the impetuous bassist and composer, but also drummer Dannie Richmond, tenor titan George Adams and the extraordinary pianist Don Pullen. The latter three men, in particular, were taken way before their times and one longs for the incendiary magic that the Pullen-Adams group (the seeds of which are planted here) conjured for a brief spell in the '80s.