For Albert "Tootie" Heath
Herbie Hancock’s “Tell Me A Bedtime Story”, recorded at the end of 1969, has a challenging form and a straight-eighth melody that suggests Donny Hathaway and Stevie Wonder.
For the drums, “Tell Me A Bedtime Story” could be a bossa nova. Or you could play a tasteful gospel backbeat, or something else maybe? How about a blend— bossa, plus the newest James Brown dances, and something from jazz, something you can change up— you don’t want to play one thing the whole time.
That’s the recipe. Herbie was going to need a special drummer for the piece to come together.
Like a Bacharach tune, “Tell Me A Bedtime Story” is unconventionally phrased and moves from 4/4 to 5/4; like a Bacharach tune, “Tell Me A Bedtime Story” is a detailed, fully-developed composition in a popular idiom meant to be heard by a wide audience. Intelligence, sophistication, folk wisdom, and cutting-edge knowledge must all must come together in the drum chair for this to work.
Hancock knew who to get: Albert “Tootie” Heath.
Born in 1935, Tootie was younger than the bebop giants he knew and idolized— Art Blakey (born 1919), Max Roach (born 1924), and Philly Joe Jones (born 1923)— and was the youngest sibling of jazz giants Jimmy Heath and Percy Heath.
By 1955, Heath was a master bebop drummer, appearing on classic albums by John Coltrane, Wes Montgomery, Bobby Timmons, and others, but Heath was just getting started. By 1965, he’d begun to fully embrace the rhythmic innovations of the Sixties— bossa and samba, R&B and funk, and jazz’s avant-garde— and let them co-exist with bebop mastery.
No concept was needed, no argument need be developed; Heath’s intelligence, musicianship, and command of his instrument did all the work.
Albert “Tootie” Heath, one of the greatest drummers, died last Wednesday, April 3, 2024.
Nate Chinen’s beautiful obituary is here, a fitting tribute to a great musician.
Ethan Iverson, who, with bassist Ben Street showcased Tootie’s wide-ranging artistry in a trio, has written three essential, must-read articles about Tootie on his Substack.
Here they are:
At the Vanguard in the 2000s and 2010s, you could see Tootie with The Heath Brothers (with the wonderful David Wong taking Percy’s place) or with Ethan and Ben; this was the time and place that folks like me really got to know Albert Heath’s music.
Tootie, gregarious and approachable, was easy to find when he was in town: giving a clinic at pianist Michael Kanan’s space, playing some borrowed drums and cymbals, indifferent to the quality of the instrument, absolutely dedicated to being himself, sharing what he had with anyone who was interested.
He is missed.
Ethan’s third post on Tootie featured a quote from Hyland Harris, a great drummer and life-long observer of the music.
Harris’s quote was so good I had to pull it. We should all read these words, as they get to the heart of the contribution to humanity made by Albert “Tootie” Heath and his many colleagues:
You know there is this undying effort to whiten up the history of jazz. It just refuses to go away.
My retort was always… look at the great Migrations… black people took an evolving culture with them and this is where all of these strong jazz communities flourished. How many jazz musicians came from Salt Lake City?
Years ago I hung around Bob Hurst and Jeff Watts and saw them constantly trying to (humorously) one up each other with the Detroit vs Pittsburgh jazz wars… this is when I began to notice these regional differences are really minor. The commonality was more important: jazz was a big deal in these working class black communities and these communities nourished and continually produced talent.
Unlike today’s musicians these musicians were socialized in this environment and in the greater world. Trane and Tommy Flanagan played dances and R ’n B gigs; they were also drafted into military service, got married young and lived in these communities.
It came together for me seeing [Albert] Tootie [Heath] and [drummer Mickey] Roker and [bassist] Buster [Williams] — three of the baddest muthafuckers on the planet — talking everything from paratrooper experience to doing gigs with Sonny Stitt weeks out of high school. Any performance we enjoy by these musicians is not just a testament to how great of an artist these guys are but also the community that produced them. [Emphasis added.]
The above list of Philly jazz cats represents the fruit of a community. However we should also think of the names we will never hear about: the bakers, laborers, construction workers, house cleaners, doctors, and lawyers who were the fabric of that community. Without them, Tootie and Buster would not have anyone to play for.
-HYLAND HARRIS
Let’s listen to Albert “Tootie” Heath.
Tootie thankfully had a long and busy career, the full dimensions of which I’m still exploring. Here are ten tracks from Tootie’s early years; I’ve linked to each track individually and created a YouTube playlist right here.
I hope you enjoy— I’ve been listening for a few days and I’m having a blast.
Thank you Tootie Heath for all this great music. We are so lucky to have these records.
John Coltrane, “Bakai” (Cal Massey") from Coltrane (Prestige, 1957). Recorded on Tootie’s 22nd birthday, “Bakai” is the first track on the first full-length LP issued under John Coltrane’s name, and Tootie’s debut on record. This is the community, May 31, 1957. Notice Heath’s perfect Afro-Cuban opening, his ease with the unconventional phrase lengths (AABA, but 12-12-8-12), and the ease with which he accommodates soloists Red Garland, Coltrane, and baritone saxophonist Sahib Shihab. A more auspicious debut is hard to imagine
Nina Simone, “Love Me Or Leave Me” (Walter Donaldson-Gus Kahn) from Little Girl Blue (Bethlehem, evidently released 1959). If you read the Wikipedia article on Little Girl Blue, you’ll know as much about it as I do, but I’ve been hearing “Love Me Or Leave Me” since I worked at Starbucks on 41st St in my first months in New York. I would always wonder who the drummer was that helped Simone play her baroque fantasia in the middle of this tune. Instead of being stymied by Simone’s left turn, Tootie just goes with it and supports her. Brilliant. Let’s not forget that it’s Tootie on Simone’s original “My Baby Just Cares For Me”.
Jimmy Heath, “Dat Dere” (Bobby Timmons), from Really Big! (Riverside, 1960). Here we go. Tootie proudly stomps out four to the bar the entire tune, completely irrepressible and ear-catching. This is what I mean about Tootie’s total involvement. I can’t imagine Jimmy Cobb or Louis Hayes so unabashedly hamming it up like Tootie is here; but then, I note that Jimmy and Percy Heath are also present here.
Bobby Timmons, “So Tired” (Timmons) from In Person (Riverside, recorded live at the Vanguard, 1961). Tootie was an early adopter of the Sixties eighth note expansion. Two years before Billy Higgins and Lee Morgan launched the boogaloo, here’s an early version of that sound, with some pianissimo gospel 2 and 4 on the snare. Tootie is playing so lightly and precisely that we can hear the cymbal sound change as Tootie looks for the best part of the drumstick tip. This is incredible drumming.
McCoy Tyner, “Autumn Leaves” (Kosma-Prevert) from Today and Tomorrow (Impulse, recorded June 1963). With a pair of brushes on the snare (with the snares on) Tootie gets a full, deep, voice-like sound, as nuanced as a classical percussionist. This is the track Joey Baron mentioned to me the first time I ever got to talk to him (Jazz Standard, spring 2015). Joey said something like: “Tootie’s playing time with brushes, but you have to hear the sound he gets.” Thank you Joey, thank you Tootie.
Jimmy Heath, “Gingerbread Boy” (Heath) from On The Trail (Riverside, 1964). Solos from Burrell, Jimmy Heath, and Wynton Kelly allow us to savor Heath’s time playing, one of the great 4/4 cymbal beats in jazz. Albert’s eighth-note is completely identifiable, somewhere between the even propulsion of Billy Higgins and the round bounciness of Philly Joe.
Kenny Dorham, “Trompeta Toccata” (Dorham) from Trompeta Toccata (Blue Note, recorded 1964). Here’s an early example of Tootie with the New Composers of Blue Note, and he’s right at home: the Afro-Cuban 12/8 is his wheelhouse, and an open, almost experimental atmosphere suits Tootie perfectly. His duet with bassist Richard Davis is a standout— Tootie stays in his lane, Davis in his, yet they’re in perfect accord.
Clifford Jordan, “Silver City Bound” (Leadbelly) from These Are My Roots (Atlantic, 1965). Here, Heath gives us a sample of authentic gospel tambourine, a major part of his background. Heath always told audiences that his mother was the best tambourine player he knew.
Herbie Hancock, “The Prisoner” (Hancock) from The Prisoner (Blue Note, recorded 1969). There was nothing Albert Heath couldn’t play— here he goes toe-to-toe with Joe Henderson and Herbie Hancock for some classic late-Sixties jazz. Tootie was the drummer in the first post-Miles Herbie Hancock band, a fact that almost summarizes Tootie’s contribution: the pianist who connects every disparate corner of jazz needed a drummer who could do the same. Albert Tootie Heath is the man for the job. All respect to bassist Buster Williams on this track and the next, as he and Tootie navigate contrasting textures, feels, and forms.
Herbie Hancock, “Tell Me A Bedtime Story” (Hancock), from Fat Albert Rotunda (Warner Bros, 1970). Tootie keeps those 16th notes flowing and the atmosphere intimate as he makes the hits and plays 5/4 on the bridge for an early Hancock pop-jazz masterpiece. This is the Tootie cut that knocked me out when I was a teenager, so it remains extra special to me, the tune I reached for when I heard the news of his passing. It’s all here.
Thanks, Vinnie!
Brilliant Vinnie! Thanks.