Roy Haynes is the greatest living jazz drummer. Amen.
The bassist and composer Reuben Radding, in a comment on this Substack, pointed out that some drummers more-or-less reinvented the drumset (Jo Jones, Max Roach, Elvin and Tony), some are dominant influences (Jim Black, Jeff Watts), and some are outliers, drummers who have made important music, are widely praised and respected, but whose language was never assimilated into general use— Mr. Radding mentions Billy Mintz and Dave Tough as examples (two drummers about whom I shall certainly compose an essay or two) as being prime examples.
Roy Haynes is a special case. Mr. Haynes is simply too important in jazz to be an outlier; still, no one has ever sounded like Haynes, then or now. It’s startling to realize that such a pure, complete original is the single greatest connector between generations in the entire history of jazz, from Louis Armstrong to Pat Metheny.
While no one has ever precisely duplicated Haynes, his influence is huge— just to pick one example, Haynes’ playing on Chick Corea’s Now He Sings, Now He Sobs will always exemplify, always signify “cutting-edge, ultra-modern, badass jazz”, and every current jazz drummer stole something from Haynes on this record. In fact, Jack DeJohnette was already calling Roy Haynes ‘Papa Daddy’ in 1968 (that’s Roy on drums and Jack on melodica).
It’s always a good time to check back in with Mr. Haynes’ recorded work, and his 98th birthday on March 13th is just a good excuse. In a discography as extensive as his— the Lord discography lists 417 sessions— there’s always going to be something new to hear.
I wanted to assemble a highlight reel that explicitly avoided the obvious highlights— Haynes with Monk, with Chick Corea, with Coltrane, later recordings with Pat Metheny and Danilo Perez. All wonderful music, of course, but I wanted to widen the lens, expand the scope, dig a little deeper.
So here’s a sampling of some rare Haynes (paid subscribers get a few more tracks).
Luis Russell Orchestra— Deep Six Blues (recorded October 1946). Luis Russell, a former King Oliver sideman, was, by 1946, a twenty-year jazz veteran. In the early Forties, after nearly a decade of being Louis Armstrong’s musical director, Russell formed a new band to play the Savoy Ballroom and the Apollo theater. Russell sent 20 year-old Boston phenom Roy Haynes a one-way train ticket to NYC to join his band in 1945. Haynes made his first recordings with Russell; here, Roy gets in a few nicely-recorded accents and licks between the choruses.
Harry Belafonte with Zoot Sims Quintet— The Night Has A Thousand Eyes (recorded 1949). Many modern jazz usual suspects on this track— Sims, pianist Al Haig, guitarist Jimmy Raney, bassist Tommy Potter, and Haynes, who was beginning to travel the byways of modern jazz in New York. Roy commits to the light, rumba-esque beat with taste and panache.
Lester Young— Ding Dong (recorded June 1949). A much more widely-known track, with a confident, assertive, and instantly recognizable 24-year old Roy Haynes. Details abound— Haynes “dit-dit-an-dit-dit” solo break in the intro; his intense, understated, minimally-accented ride cymbal; and of course, his three solo breaks at the end of the track. Astonishing music. Haynes and Lester present a complete conception in two and a half minutes.
Lester Young— Sunday (at the Royal Roost, recorded 1949). If Elvin Jones played “rolling triplets”, Roy Haynes plays “rolling eighth notes”, sounding almost Brazilian at times. Lester Young exploits the possibilities Haynes’ presents him here for three thrilling choruses. Special thank you to Loren Schoenberg for making this music available.
Charlie Parker— Ornithology (recorded June, 1950). From Bird At St. Nick’s, with Red Rodney on trumpet, Al Haig on piano, and Tommy Potter on bass. Haynes surrounds Bird’s wildly inventive, almost experimental three chorus solo with booming bass drum, chattering snare, and crystal-clear ride cymbal. The rhythmic unison between Bird and Haynes at the top of Bird’s first chorus tells the whole story— complete communication, empathy, and dialog.
Charlie Parker— Embraceable You (recorded June 1950). Also from Bird At St. Nick’s, this track is important to me for Haynes’ 16th notes on the bass drum. I’ve never heard another drummer make this choice, and it definitely works; it seems to settle the band somehow. Haynes is asserting his identity and mastery, and serving the music, just with the bass drum.
Sarah Vaughn— Just One Of Those Things (recorded August 1957), with Jimmy Jones on piano, and, tellingly, Richard Davis on bass. Haynes is supporting Vaughn, the epitome of a ‘singer drummer’. And yet, in the cracks, suggestive polyrhythms, accents, and fills keep the fire of modernity burning while Sarah Vaughn re-imagines every nuance of Cole Porter’s words and music. Speaking of Richard Davis and Roy Haynes….
Andrew Hill— Wailing Wall (recorded December 1963) from Smokestack. Poetry on the cymbal, Haynes’ the cymbal playing is the center of the composition. Haynes’ conception is so fully developed that he can expand and contract the tempo as needed for the composition, and at the end of the piece, Haynes plays some startlingly modern snare/bass combinations. As I listen, I can’t avoid the conclusion— only Roy Haynes could have made this composition and arrangement with these individuals come together so successfully. Bravo!
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