MOSAIC RECORDS BOOKLET

Zan Stewart, erstwhile jazz critic for the Los Angles Times and, later, the Newark Star-Ledger and a frequent contributor to all the jazz magazine, remains a part-time saxophonist. And he knowledge of and passion for the instrument informed the great essay on Sonny Stitt found in this 28-page booklet. Roost was the vaguest of labels when it came to personnel and dating, but this discography clears up a wealth of mysteries.

In the age of microsizing, every Mosaic Records Box Set booklet is still 11 x 11 inches to allow our customers to appreciate all the extras we put into printing them (and for easier reading).

SOUND QUALITY

Gathering Sonny Stitt’s studio output for Roost was a daunting task that spanned from central New Jersey where producer Teddy Reig’s daughter lived to London where most of the Roulette/Roost masters are stored. When all was said and done, Malcolm Addey’s task included pitch correction on three early sessions to remixing the three and four-track masters on the five final sessions, as well as transferring and mastering the music in 24-bit resolution.

PHOTOGRAPHY

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Sonny Stitt
The 26 beautiful images are by Chuck Stewart and Francis Wolff.

SAMPLE RECORDING SESSION

August 30, 1957

This date, which produced Sonny Stitt With The New Yorkers, sees the return of the same gents who made Sonny Stitt Plays such a winner: Hank Jones, Wendell Marshall and Shadow Wilson. It contains some magnificent alto work by the leader. Ray Noble's Cherokee, a big hit for Charlie Barnet in 1939 became the anthem of bebop, adapted to the modern mode by Parker. His Ko-Ko, recorded in 1945, was the first example of his nonpareil command of both instrument and infant musical tongue at outrageous tempo. Stitt, in this version, is nothing short of phenomenal; one example is the astonishing first 32 bars of the saxophonist's opening chorus. Jones, in short yet telling statements, shows how tempo is no obstacle for him. When Stitt re-enters on the bridge after Marshall solos, he quotes two phrases Parker played on Ko-Ko in the same spot, then goes off into his own language.

The two takes of the medium-paced Engos, The Bloos are decidedly interesting. The previously unissued alternate begins with Sonny soloing strongly on the standard blues changes. Then in the third chorus, he shifts to a more complex progression that Bird used on his Blues For Alice, chords that allow for a more melodic interpretation. Stitt then plays the Alice changes throughout the issued master. The ideas flow, and there's a deep tunefulness, as the opening statements of the third chorus reveal. Jones, delicate yet ardent, picking his notes judiciously, offers one gem, then another.

Johnny Green's Body And Soul has been firmly ensconced in the jazz repertoire ever since tenor saxophone giant Coleman Hawkins delivered his stunning interpretation–sans theme–in 1939. Stitt's version belongs among his personal best. There are so many things that deserve attention: his dead-on intonation in all ranges; his driving bop phrase, at bar 9 of the theme, which leads to a splendid five-bar exposition; the offering of a favored quote from Prisoner Of Love which a bar later includes a snippet of If You Could See Me Now at bar 9 of the solo; and his quote of Cocktails For Two, deftly altered, coming out of the bridge. Jones' prancing intro sets up the just-faster-than-medium take of I Didn't Know What Time It Was. The trio is strong behind Stitt, pushing him. Jones feeds chords so constructively. He's enjoyable to listen to simply as an accompanist, and when he solos, each of his compact ideas – he stretches a bit toward the end – is enlivened by his crisp articulation and his luminous tone, which inspired such keyboard greats as Tommy Flanagan and Kenny Barron. One review of Jones behind Stitt said he lacked the musical know-how to play with the saxophonist. Ha! Stitt has a real feel for the 32-bar killer The Best Things In Life Are Free. His version is a medium-fast delight; the zesty melody treatment leads to a like improvisation. Some of his phrases are flowing – his five-bar opener tied to another of almost three bars – is one. Others are rhythmically ardent, like that hit-the-same-note-three-times-then-a-brief-sweep-up that starts the second chorus, or the dandy one that begins on bar 24. The rhythm section is firm yet buoyant behind him; listen to Wilson drive him with his varied, dynamic cymbal attack. Hank's mix of Tatum, Teddy Wilson and Bud Powell is simply one of a kind.

Sonny and crew look at People Will Say We're In Love twice. On the previously unissued alternate, where Shadow employs his brushes with expected elan, Stitt's superlative effort begins with a partial quote of And The Angels Sing that segues into a punchy, swinging lick. It's just the precursor of many good things to come. Jones rolls his even notes out in small bunches, and in longer strands. It all works. As does everything on the master. It's a shade faster, and a piano-bass rhythmic figure underpins the theme (as it did on the alternate)–except the bridge, where it swings. Once more, Stitt gets off on the right foot: he takes a simple phrase and turns it around, both rhythmically and juxtaposing the pitches. That's jazz, folks. Then in the second chorus there are those three blazing double-times and some deft blues-tinged ideas. Beats me how they picked one take over the other, but we have them both so not to worry.

Bloosey shows again that Stitt was as come-what-may in his titles as his blues themes; the latter were for the most part simply made up on the spot. But once the solo starts, Sonny is cooking, back on very familiar turf. He hits some morphing triadic figures to start the third chorus, stopping a dime when the idea is over. That's rhythmic acumen and instrumental control. On the fifth chorus, after the opening phrase, he descends with a classic bebop cliché: hitting a series of three pitches, the second and third higher and lower, respectively, than the first. The ideas seem to spin as they go down the horn. Jones mimics Stitt's last remark to start his own noteworthy improv.

Stitt's Bird's Eye is the same head that Parker used on his Steeplechase, recorded for Savoy in 1948. Whatever the name, it's another superior tour through Rhythm changes. To start the bridge of his solo, Sonny finds two different ways to play another classic bebop phrase: the quick rise-and-fall that Bird used to open his solo on Ko-Ko. This is arguably the most quoted idea in all bebop, and in his transfiguration, Stitt reveals his ingenuity. Jones is impressively fluid, nudged by Wilson's ride cymbal. Then the drummer trades some crisp fours with the leader; it's good to hear him let go for a moment.

Both versions of It Might As Well Be Spring start with a four-bar intro that manages to make a modified Happy Birthday fit before a quiet and pretty subsequent phrase arrives. You can almost hear the lyrics, as Sonny delivers the tender theme, which is embellished by his vibrant interjections; he's singing. He leaves the solo to Jones, who is abetted by Marshall's fat notes and Wilson's emphatic brush scrapes across the drumheads. On the slightly faster master, Jones' solo is more involved, a delightful mix of melody and imagination, and the ending is a fade, rather than the clean stop on the previously unissued alternate.