Mingus Ah Um

Charles Mingus never wanted his music to be classified as jazz or classical music. To him it wasn't a fusion either; rather, Mingus believed an organic, kinetic way of creating music was the only way for him. Mingus would offer rough sketches of what a piece's mood was, and the vibe, but he purposely worked with musicians that could both breathe in his world/vision and add special enhancements to the atmosphere/overall product.

The saxophone on this piece is evocative and chilling; it's fitting that Mingus allows it to be the centerpiece of the composition. Reflecting on a friend who passed away before he could record it, the mood is definitely forlorn. The way the tenors contrast and compliment each other is beautifully deliberate; I love how they sort of melt into each other for the last couple of minutes until the bellowing last note: gorgeous dissonance.

That same kind of dissonance is all over the place on "Fables of Faubus." This would later feature lyrics and be one of Mingus' most political songs but on this album it's entirely instrumental. The call and response is between the sax and the horn section and Mingus allows the improvisation (sax to piano back to sax then to bass) to be elaborated. This is still one of my favorite albums just because of how heady and moody all of it plays out in my brain. It came out in 1959 too, its damn old and still sounds vibrant as ever.

Episode 003

Welcome GENIUS HEADS to episode 003 of the Midnight Genius Hour! We delve into fresh new music, a special shout out to a classic, talk about blog and go hard into current events, sports and as usual, life-affirming conversation!

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Mwandishi was where Herbie Hancock was starting to really gather steam as a prominent figure in the world of jazz. Released in the early 1970s the 3-piece album is 44 minutes of superb free jazz. But it's also noteworthy for me because Hancock got to really explore his depths as a composer within the album's 3 songs. Opening with "Ostinato (Suite for Angela)" the music gradually builds into a freeform improv and Hancock doesn't shy away with a 15/8 meter that is simply all over the place. The song sounds like a pot of hot water that is tipping over every five seconds, while the lid skips and shake as it tries to hold the contents from spilling over. A sax bookends the track and I really love the way each instrument is allowed to convey the melody around scaling improvisation.



The second side of this record features the entire closing song, "Wandering Spirit Song." For 20 minutes Hancock gets to explore tension and release. He starts it with what sounds like flickering lights and he adds layers of instruments and sounds so that the music can build and build. Here Hancock is delving into more avant-garde classical music than jazz but for me, thats the beauty of jazz. Hancock needed talented jazz musicians to flesh out his music and the sounds crescendo, the winds release the tension with beautiful long, swelling notes. He got his chance to play with the meter earlier and now he's perfected the wanderer in all of us.



It's what jazz is all about: taking it all in for the experience. And being mind-blown afterwards because of how ahead of its time it really was/still is. If you're still wondering what the title of this post means then you need to hear episode two of THE MIDNIGHT GENIUS HOUR asap. Episode 3 is on the way...

PODCAST 2 - The teens and beyond

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Misunderstood Dreamers

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