Belonging

Branford Marsalis Quartet at Smoke; Benny Golson; Ember in Arizona and Texas

In 1985, Branford Marsalis and pianist Kenny Kirkland left Wynton Marsalis’s quintet and joined Sting to record and tour The Dream of the Blue Turtles (the record with “If You Love Somebody Set Them Free”). Contemporary observers suggested extra-musical motives behind Branford’s decision— after all, Wynton had just put out the emblematic Black Codes From The Underground, one of the best records of the era.

But they didn’t get it. For a glimpse of Branford’s inner workings, read his words on saxophonist Clarence Clemons of Bruce Springsteen and the E Street Band:

If you know anything about Springsteen’s music, you know it is a reflection of his personal beliefs. It is hard, unrelenting, and honest.  At times, those values can be very difficult to find in finer players:  The ease with which the “shredders” play often has an effect of them being above the song, or worse, not even aware of the song’s existence. Clarence’s lack of saxophone prowess meant that he would have to get there with attitude, sound (which was massive!) and conviction. Thus, a musical marriage was made….

When I was playing with Sting in the mid to late 80s, we embarked on a massive tour in support of Amnesty International. On the second tour, Mr. Springsteen and band joined. I had been critical of Clarence before then, because, as a young musician, I focused on facility and “hipness,” as opposed to the power of musical intent. On that tour, I learned a lot about Bruce, and how much music he knows. I hung a lot with Nils Lofgren and Danny Federici, and learned that Gary Talent was in that long line of super-important-yet-ignored bassists in pop music. And to top it off, I was invited to play a set with the band.

Other than with my quartet, I have not experienced that kind of intensity onstage; no matter how hard I played, it was not hard enough. And I did that gig only for an hour.  When it was over, my lips felt like they usually do when I play a gig after not touching the horn for two weeks. To add to the perspective, at that time, Bruce and the Boys (and gal) played like that for about four hours every night. Clarence was very gracious to me, and he brought it.  Everything I played had to have his vibe on it, so powerful was his influence on the sound of the band, and the sound on him.

-Branford Marsalis, 2011

Branford started with Art Blakey and the Jazz Messengers, moved to Wynton’s quintet and VSOP II with Herbie Hancock, and then joined Sting. I’d never pondered how wide-ranging Branford’s career was before 1990, when he released Crazy People Music (Columbia, 1990), the first proper album by the Branford Marsalis Quartet: Marsalis, pianist Kenny Kirkland, bassist Robert Hurst, and Jeff “Tain” Watts. The first track, “Spartacus”, remains a touchstone.

NYC doesn’t see Branford and the quartet as often as we once did, so we were lucky that Marsalis, pianist Joey Calderazzo (who joined in 1999 upon Kenny Kirkland’s death), bassist Eric Revis (with Branford since ‘97), and drummer Justin Faulkner (in the band since 2012) came to Smoke, on the Upper West Side, for a week of shows. I made it to the final set of the week, on Sunday, September 22. Stunning that this lineup has been in place for 12 years, and that the trio of Revis, Calderazzo, and Branford are approaching the 30-year mark.

I didn’t plan to write about the show, but the night hit me hard. I was moved from the get-go, when Calderazzo counted off the first tune, Keith Jarrett’s “Spiral Dance”, from Belonging. Branford and Co. didn't rework, arrange, or comment on Keith’s piece, nor did they bow their heads in reverence. It was just their song, Faulkner and Revis showing how tough Jarrett’s groove is, Branford and Calderazzo played over the form of Keith’s melody. The tune fit the band like a glove, and vice versa.

They continued with “When I Take My Sugar To Tea”, a Sammy Fain composition (Branford asked the audience if we were Sammy Fain fans) from the 1930’s, a 32-bar 4/4 swinger. What other band could go so smoothly from an iconic bit of Seventies jazz to swinging a hit from the Great Depression? I was enthralled.

A standout was Eric Revis’s composition (the title of which I neglected to write down, apologies), a multi-themed piece moving in and out of tempo that would have been right at home on Revis’s incredible Slipknots Through The Looking Glass from 2020 (featuring the great Chad Taylor on drums, plus two tunes with Justin Faulkner).

After a minor key quasi-ballad, with Calderazzo soloing first and Branford on soprano, the set ended with a second Jarrett tune from Belonging, “The Windup.”Branford announced the composer to cheers, and spirits were high, but there was more. “My Bucket’s Got A Hole In It”, a traditional New Orleans tune, was the encore, as was the appearance of bassist Robert Hurst, taking the bass from Eric Revis. Drummer Herlin Riley was right behind him, relieving Mr. Faulkner and emphasizing New Orleans’s still-unmatched primacy in the music.

And then Jeff “Tain” Watts appeared. Mr. Watts gently tapped Mr. Riley on the shoulder, and we were treated, briefly, to the sight and sound of Robert Hurst, Jeff “Tain” Watts, and Branford Marsalis. I didn’t think I’d ever see those three musicians, so crucial to jazz’s recent history, together on stage, much less at a New York jazz club. And there they were, no big deal.

That word “belonging” kept bonging around my head on the train ride home, it was the theme of the night. I felt so damned lucky to have been there, and to be an involved in jazz. The whole history of the music, back to Art Blakey and Dizzy Gillespie, to Wayne Shorter and Herbie Hancock, to Edgar Hayes, Duke Ellington, Chick Webb, and Benny Goodman, and forward to whatever comes next, was present and belonged; the Branford Marsalis Quartet isn’t just inclusive, it’s inviting.

And it didn’t just happen on its own— we made it happen. Magic. Bravo and respect to Branford Marsalis, Joey Calderazzo, Eric Revis, Justin Faulkner, Herlin Riley, Robert Hurst III, Jeff “Tain” Watts, and the staff and audience at Smoke. Sonny Rollins is right: jazz goes on and on.

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Benny Golson, tenor saxophonist and the last of the great composers, died on Saturday, September 21, 2024. Here’s the excellent NY Times obituary by Leonard Benardo; closer to home for me is Ethan Iverson’s post. As always when a master passes, I have the sense that I didn’t listen enough, didn’t seek him out enough. Iverson’s brief appreciation helps immeasurably. Benny Golson is missed.

Like many, I first heard Benny Golson on Art Blakey’s Moanin’, recorded in 1958. The title track still signifies earthy cool; last week I heard it blasting at a trendy Red Hook restaurant. Though “Moanin” is a Bobby Timmons tune, the arrangement and presentation is all Benny Golson, who was the Messengers’ musical director that pivotal year.

It’s possible that had it not been for Benny Golson’s intervention, the Messengers wouldn’t have made it to 1959. Certainly, without Golson, the signature Messengers sound and stance wouldn’t have been what it was. Here’s a page from Alan Goldsher’s invaluable Hard Bop Academy: The Sidemen of Art Blakey and The Jazz Messengers that paints the picture, with a quote from Branford and choice words from Golson:

Ethan’s piece has some great lesser-known Golson tracks, to which I’ll add a cut from a Sonny Lester-produced disc called Benny Golson Quartet on Laserlight from 1990. Below is a link to a gorgeous version of Freddie Hubbard’s “Up Jumped Spring” with Golson joined by pianist Mulgrew Miller, Rufus Reid on bass, and drummer Tony Reedus, who’s especially transcendent here. Startling to realize that only Rufus Reid has a living memory of this session:

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This recent post was well-received, musing on the effort and value in making something happen, since nothing “just happens”, especially in music. My co-op band Ember, with saxophonist/trumpeter Caleb Wheeler Curtis and bassist/synthesist Noah Garabedian, is out on the road this week, heading to Arizona and Texas for some shows and workshops.

• Friday, September 27th, Ravenscroft, Scottsdale, AZ

• Saturday, September 28th, The Century Room, Tucson, AZ

• Sunday, September 29th, Monk’s, Austin, TX

• Monday, September 30th, Workshop at University of Texas, Austin.

We’re doing our part, privileged to be able to do so. I’ll be thinking of Benny Golson and Branford and Co. the whole time.