Abstracts of Papers

“Pop Song Piracy, Fake Books, and a Pre-history of Sampling”

Barry Kernfeld, “Copyright and the Networked Computer: a Stakeholder's Congress,” Washington, DC, November 6, 2003.

“Napster in the 1930s: Bootlegging Song Sheets”

Barry Kernfeld, Atlantic Chapter, Music Library Association, University Park, PA, October 17, 2003

This paper resurrects the forgotten story of bootleg song sheets (initially, newspaper-sized sheets of pop-song lyrics, and then, from the mid-1930s, song-lyric magazines). The bootleg sheets, which emerged in 1929, elicited a hysterical response from the music industry, which fought vigorously against these products for roughly a decade, using every legal ploy available, before discovering, extremely reluctantly and somewhat inadvertently, that assimilation was a much more successful policy than prohibition. The simple and obvious historical lesson to be drawn from this story, is that the essential nature of the American music industry is to defend deeply entrenched interests, without regard for change, and in its current-day reactions to Napster and Kazaa, the industry is re-living an expected and already well-established mode of behavior.

Pop Song Piracy: A History of Fake Books and America’s First Criminal Copyright Trials

Barry Kernfeld, fifth Jyväsklyä Summer Jazz Conference, University of Jyväsklyä, Finland, June 5, 2003

This paper is abstracted from the central chapters of my book Pop Song Piracy: Bootleg Song Sheets, Fake Books, and America’s First Criminal Copyright Trials . The factual portions of the paper trace the story of bootleg fake books from the appearance of the Tune-Dex in the spring of 1942, to the first bootleg volumes of Tune-Dex cards in 1949, through failed FBI investigations into Tune-Dex bootlegging in the early 1950s, and finally to the government’s prosecution of fake-book bootlegging in three cases from the 1960s. The first of these three, in Chicago in 1962, was aborted when the defendants changed their pleas from not guilty to guilty at the last moment, but the other two, in New York City in 1966 and 1969, were full-blown events which raised significant issues with regard to copyright infringement. In relating this story, I endeavor to address the changing nature of pop song during these decades, the rise of “cocktail music,” and the function and nature of fake books in their relationship to sheet music and to professional music-making. More broadly, I strive to say something about the role of bootlegging in the American marketplace, and to situate the fake-book trials of the 1960s within the history of criminal copyright infringement cases in America.

The Making of The Real Book

Barry Kernfeld, fifth Jyväsklyä Summer Jazz Conference, University of Jyväsklyä, Finland, June 6, 2003

Abstracted from the final chapter of Pop Song Piracy, this paper picks up the story of fake books in the 1970s, after the government abandoned its effort to prosecute fake-book bootleggers through the criminal infringement clause of the Copyright Act. To begin, I briefly outline the appearance of legitimate, authorized, copyrighted pop-song fake books, and I speculate on the audiences for such books. The bulk of this paper is devoted to excerpts from an interview with Steve Swallow and correspondence with Pat Metheny, both of whom contributed to the making of a bootleg jazz fake book, The Real Book, while teaching at the Berklee College of Music in Boston during the academic year 1974–75. In presenting that story, I consider reasons why the arena for fake-book bootlegging shifted from pop music to jazz. Swallow describes how the book was made. He explains issues of printed-music and recorded-music licensing and royalties that influenced decisions which he made to contribute lead sheets directly to The Real Book, and which he then explored in consultation with Metheny, Carla Bley, Steve Kuhn, and others, who chose to follow that same path, and he examines, from the perspective of later years, the consequences of these decisions. Both men address the contentious question of the “accuracy” of The Real Book. Swallow offers, from the experience of his career as a professional jazz bassist, thoughts on changing attitudes toward the use of printed music in jazz performance. Finally, we suggest possible reasons for the ongoing widespread proliferation of The Real Book, even in the face of legitimate, authorized, copyrighted competitors which have emerged within the realm of jazz in recent decades.

“John Coltrane in Rudy Van Gelder's Studio"

Names & Numbers, no.33 (April 2005): 2–7; no.34 (July 2005): 3–9, errata 14–15

Introduction.

In September 2004 the New York City auction house Guernsey’s asked me to serve as a historical consultant, cataloguer, and writer in preparation for its first jazz auction, to be held February 20, 2005, at the new jazz venue at Lincoln Center. The auction embraced materials from the estates of John Coltrane, Charlie Parker, Thelonious Monk, Benny Goodman, Eric Dolphy, and Gerry Mulligan, as well as items from Louis Armstrong in the possession of his manager Oscar Cohen (who became president of Associated Booking Corporation following Joe Glaser’s death in 1969), and various images and a trumpet from a living musician, Clark Terry.

Early in December 2004, as Guernsey’s head Arlan Ettinger related it to me, Naima Coltrane’s daughter Saida* (also known as Antonia Andrews) and Saida’s brother Jamail Dennis were delivering paper items to the auction house: musical manuscripts in John Coltrane’s own hand; a letter from Bill Evans to John Coltrane just after Evans quit Miles Davis’s sextet; a postcard from Wayne Shorter, in Marseilles, to Mr. and Mrs. J. Coltrane (“Europe is a drag. I mean really. Just another gig and a place to practise and/or rehearse.”); Shorter’s hand-drawn portrait of Davis; and so forth. At this point, Jamail said to Arlan, “Oh, we have some tapes. Would you be interested in them?” “TAPES?!,” replied Arlan.

During the last three weeks of 2004 I had the unbelievable privilege of identifying and cataloguing the contents of digital copies of 35 reel-to-reel tapes, the contents of which proved to be mainly unreleased recordings by John Coltrane for Impulse! Records at Rudy Van Gelder’s studio in Englewood Cliffs, New Jersey, from 1962 to 1964. I submitted my essay to Guernsey’s the evening of January 2, 2005. Coincidentally the following morning Guernsey’s phoned to report that attorneys for the Impulse! label had just threatened a lawsuit if the reels were not withdrawn from the auction. This was done, and accordingly the essay that appears below was withdrawn from the auction catalogue. Two home-made tapes, respectively of Ornette Coleman (tape AA28) and Bill Henderson (AA32), remained in the auction, since both were private recordings and hence neither evoked a contractual dispute.

Hopefully Arlan Ettinger can broker some sort of deal that eventually will lead to these recordings becoming available to the jazz public. In the meantime I find myself in a position to make rather monumental additions and corrections to existing Coltrane discographies.

The tapes were badly disordered, with wrong reels in the wrong boxes, misidentification in listings of contents on the tape boxes, and mislabeling of the boxes. In the essay that follows, “AA” refers to Guernsey’s arbitrary in-house cataloguing of materials received from Saida (i.e., Antonia Andrews). “JD” refers to materials received from Jamail Dennis. Headings such as “Tape 7 of 1962” refer to labels that Saida put on the tape boxes. These labels proved often to be incorrect or out of order, but I have given them nonetheless, because they are attached to the artifacts. In nearly all instances, Rudy Van Gelder may be heard giving tape master numbers, titles, and take numbers. Of course his announcements from the control booth take precedence over any other sort of ad hoc cataloguing of these materials. In numerous instances where variant titles occur or where an entirely unreleased session has now emerged, Van Gelder’s numbering accords with tape master numbers given in David Wild, The Recordings of John Coltrane (Ann Arbor, MI: 2nd. ed., 1979). Consequently I am deeply indebted to David for the extent to which his work has enabled me to sort out these tapes.

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*She appears as Saida in Cuthbert O. Simpkins’s biography Coltrane (New York, 1975), p.54; as Saeeda in Lewis Porter, John Coltrane: His Life and Music (Ann Arbor, MI, 1998), p.96; and as Syeeda in the tune on Coltrane’s Giant Steps album, “Syeeda’s Song Flute.” By chance, her son and her brother were present when I telephoned Guernsey’s in mid-December, and I asked for the correct spelling: “S-a-i-d-a.” The auction offered confirmation by way of a lead sheet for the composition in Coltrane’s own hand, “Saida’s Song Flute.”

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The essay intended for Guernsey’s catalogue.

Hiding these past forty years in the homes of John Coltrane’s first wife Naima, her daughter Saida (Antonia Andrews), and Naima’s son Jamail Dennis, are the crown jewels: perfect high-fidelity 7-inch monophonic reel-to-reel tape copies of the master tapes of many of John Coltrane’s recordings for Impulse! Records during the first half of the 1960s. The collection includes numerous magnificent unissued new titles and alternative takes. On top of that, there is the Holy Grail (yes, another one): perfect 10-inch stereo copies of the master tapes of all six takes (four complete and two fragments) of the presumed lost sextet version of the first movement of A Love Supreme.

Among the jewels: Five reels hold the complete session of Coltrane’s quartet with singer Johnny Hartman—“These do not exist,” LP and CD notes state baldly. Ah, but they do, including the “lost” version of “Afro Blue.” “Afro Blue” is not a great recording, but many of the other rejected performances are gorgeous, and although it may be hard to imagine, given the lofty stature of the John Coltrane and Johnny Hartman album, the sound on these reels is far better than the sound on that album, with none of the phoney echo heard there. Instead these and other reels offer a presence and clarity that makes it seem as if the group were in the room with you.

Portions of several reels hold unprecedented material, a taped record of Coltrane practicing tenor saxophone, soprano saxophone, and piano. He is known to have routinely taped his playing, as a manner of self-criticism and improvement, and to preserve ideas. Here, for the first time, are actual examples of it.

Reels of complete sessions, including not only the date with Hartman, but others by the quartet on its own in 1962 and 1963, offer incredible windows into the process of making jazz.

This bundle of tapes holds numerous takes of Coltrane compositions. There are nine (!) entirely new versions of “Impressions,” from four different sessions, as well as multiple takes of “Tunji” and other pieces that remain untitled and have never been issued in any version.

A seven-inch tape holding a second copy of takes 3 through 6 of the sextet version of A Love Supreme continues with vocal overdubs to the quartet version from the previous day (with the men chanting “a love supreme, a love supreme”). A reel from that previous day has the quartet version of parts 3 and 4 of A Love Supreme, and it provides an explanation to the mystery of the two saxophones heard at the very end of the album.

Elsewhere, six takes comprise a spectacular unissued romp through the pop standard “All the Things You Are,” as the quartet reinvents composer Jerome Kern’s piece. Only the longest of Coltrane’s three ecstatic versions of Harold Arlen’s song “Out of This World” has been released; here are all three. There is an astounding and completely unflawed rendition of “Body and Soul”; why it was never released is difficult to imagine. Yet another reel supplies vividly contrasting interpretations of “Vilia” in two complete takes, the first with Coltrane playing this pop song on tenor and the second with him on soprano.

Except where noted, the recordings are all of John Coltrane’s famous quartet at Rudy Van Gelder’s studio in Englewood Cliffs, New Jersey, with McCoy Tyner on piano, Jimmy Garrison on string bass, and Elvin Jones, drums. The collection of tapes that Saida has brought into the auction also includes recordings without Coltrane: a broadcast by Art Blakey’s Jazz Messengers; a delightful rehearsal involving singer Bill Hendson and an as-yet unidentified pianist; a concert by Ornette Coleman’s trio of 1966; and a performance by trumpeter Jimmy Owens’s group.

Tape AA30b (without box); Tape AA30 = “Tape 10 Coltrane”; Tape JD35 (two-inch reel)

Live at the Village Vanguard. November 3, 1961. This earliest part of the collection of Coltrane tapes is the least significant, the only portion of that collection that does not contain unreleased recordings. The words “Greensleeves QTET LIVE” are affixed to the first reel, tape AA30b, which holds the issued versions of “Greensleeves” and “The Red Planet” that Coltrane recorded in performance at the Village Vanguard in New York on November 3, 1961. “Greensleeves” (4:51) is in a quartet version with Coltrane on soprano sax and Reggie Workman rather than Garrison on bass. “The Red Planet” (15:12), also known as “Miles’ Mode,” has Coltrane on tenor sax and Eric Dolphy on alto sax, alongside Tyner, both bassists, and Jones. There is no box for this reel of tape.

The second reel, with its contents listed as “India” and “Impressions,” holds the master takes of these two tunes as heard on Coltrane’s album Impressions (Impulse! 42). “India” (13:55) is by the sextet, but with Dolphy on bass clarinet. “Impressions” (14:45) is by the quartet, but with Garrison on bass.

A tiny two-inch reel from Saida’s brother Jamail Dennis holds another copy of this performance of “Greensleeves.”

Tape AA07 = “Tape 7 of 1962”

Unissued session of April ?16, 1962, and an unidentified unaccompanied fragment. Coltrane on tenor sax throughout.

Discographies of Coltrane’s recordings list four titles corresponding to the contents of this session as having been made on April 12, but the annotations on the box of tape give the date April 16, together with a succession of tape master numbers that follow upon those listed for April 13, so the slightly later date seems reasonable. In any event, a few days one way or the other do not really matter. What matters are the contents: four tracks, never released, according to Coltrane’s principal discographer David Wild, at the Coltrane discography on the internet.

The first title is a new version of Mal Waldron’s ballad “Soul Eyes.” Following a hard-to-hear fragment of laughter and conversation in the studio, the quartet plays a new version of “Impressions,” here listed under its temporary working title, “Excerpt,” as Wild explains. The fidelity is a bit harsh at the start of “Impressions,” but there is nothing wrong with the playing.

The third title from this date is a spectacular new version of “Body and Soul” (identified on the tape box as “Band S”). This performance is clean—no mistakes at the start or the end, and no break downs in the body of “Body and Soul”—and it is as fine as any rendition ever made of this classic American ballad. Why either Coltrane or the Impulse! label chose to ignore it, why this “Body and Soul” was never released, is beyond comprehension.

The session ends with “Neptune,” which Wild identifies as “probably an interim title for ‘Brasilia’.” Wild is right. A version of this piece was first issued as an “Untitled Original” on the double-LP The Other Village Vanguard Tapes (Impulse! 9325), recorded by the quintet including Eric Dolphy at the first Village Vanguard recording session of November 1, 1961. Reissues of this material give the untitled piece a name, “Brasilia.” Here in the studio is that very same piece, but entitled “Neptune,” in a quartet version that is much more languid than the live-at-the-Vanguard date of a half year earlier.

The tape ends with a fragment of solo tenor saxophone playing (1:20). Is this Coltrane practicing at home?

Tape master 10876, “Soul Eyes”

take 2—6:13

laughter/conversation—0:20

Tape master 10877, “Excerpt” (“Impressions”)

take 2—6:37

Tape master 10878, “Body and Soul”

take 1—9:37

Tape master 10879, “Neptune”

fragment—0:04

take 1—6:59

Tape AA05 = “Tape 5 of 1962”; Tape AA33

Session of June 19, 1962. Coltrane on tenor sax throughout.

The first of these two reels holds two titles. One is an aborted attempt at a piece entitled “Not Yet.” That title may well have resulted, in good humor, from what happened at this session. After numerous brief failed takes in the space of less than four minutes, one of the musicians says, “Let’s do something else,” and on they went, reserving “Not Yet” for the following day (see immediately below).

The “something else” was out of this world, both literally—a rendition of Harold Arlen and Johnny Mercer’s pop song “Out of This World”—and figuratively—two absolutely spectacular complete takes representing the quartet’s finest, most impassioned playing, with Coltrane driving the group as it piles climax upon climax. Take 2 was issued on the LP Coltrane (Impulse! 21). The opening fragment and take 3 are unreleased.

Still hiding in someone’s home, no doubt, is a reel for the third title from this session, tape master 10981, listed in David Wild’s discography as “Soul Eyes.” The master version of “Soul Eyes” from this date was also issued on the album Coltrane. The alternative takes remain lost, at least for the time being. Materials in the present auction leap from 10980, “Out of This World,” to “10982 ‘Excerpt’ take 1,” as announced at the beginning of the tape. These versions of “Impressions” include four false starts, as the quartet experiments with different tempos. Take 6 is a substantially complete version that breaks down only towards the end. Takes 3 and 7 are clean, start to finish. The fertility of Coltrane’s imagination is breathtaking. Here, and at the previous session, and in the two further sessions that follow below, he charges through “Impressions” with a ceaseless flow of ever-changing ideas. For just about any other musician, the cumulative effect of listening to nine full versions of “Impressions” might be numbing, but when the soloist is Coltrane . . . well, just sit back and let your jaw drop. And to think that Coltrane set the bar so high for himself that none of these takes were deemed worthy of issue. Mind boggling.

Beginning on tape AA05:

Tape master 10979, “Not Yet”

numerous brief takes—3:46

Tape master 10980, “Out of This World”

take 1—1:19

take 2—13:56 (master take)

take 3—8:56

And concluding on tape AA33:

Tape master 10982, “Excerpt” (“Impressions”)

take 1—0:39

take 2—0:36

take 3—6:28

take 4—0:31

take 5—0:35

take 6—4:16

take 7—6:28

Tape AA03 = “Tape 3 of 1962; Tape AA03B; Tape AA29 = “Tape 9 Undated”; Tape AA04 = “Tape 4 of 1962”

Session of June 20, 1962. Coltrane on tenor sax throughout.

These four tapes contain a wealth of unknown recordings. Only take 1 of “Miles’ Mode” (“The Red Planet”) appeared on LP, on the album Coltrane (Impulse! 21). Only one further item, take two of “Impressions” was released later, in fact decades later, on a CD, The Very Best of John Coltrane (Impulse! 314-549-913-2). Everything else remains unreleased, including not only the material from this studio session, but also passages of Coltrane practicing tenor saxophone, soprano sax, and piano.

Having failed to get started on a suitable version of “Not Yet” the previous day, June 19, 1962, the quartet returned to the studio on June 20 and immediately made a single complete take of this title. They then made two complete versions of a tune announced by Van Gelder as “10984 ‘B minor’ take 1.” This proves to be “Miles’ Mode,” aka “The Red Planet.” After the end of the second take there is a bit of blank tape and then a very special moment in which Coltrane may be heard for two minutes practicing “Miles’ Mode” alone on tenor saxophone, presumably at home.

After recording “Miles’ Mode,” they alternated between taking multiple stabs at Coltrane’s composition “Two Three Four” (which later took its permanent title, “Tunji”) and recording two full versions of “Impressions.” At the start of the first of these two takes, Van Gelder asks “What are we doing?” The reply is “Excerpt” (i.e., “Impressions” under its initial working title).

“Two Three Four” / “Tunji” offers deep insights into the process of making jazz. On the one hand, the first take has an awkward and abrupt transition from a long droning passage into McCoy Tyner’s solo on a 12-bar blues form. Over the course of the session the quartet works hard on smoothing this out, eventually coming up with a clever and effective design in which the droning bass line carries on into the 12-bar blues section. The musicians and Van Gelder try other things as well, including an idea that they discuss during takes 8 and 9, bringing up the introduction from silence (a “fade in”). And they record four endings, one of which was intended to be spliced onto the end of the piece.

On the other hand, this great improvement in overall flow and structure came at a heavy price. None of the succeeding takes have the raw power of the quartet’s first take. Unlike so many of the other titles in the collection of Coltrane tapes, for which their disappearance is inexplicable, here, on “Two Three Four” / “Tunji,” there is perhaps a good reason that this conglomerate version was never issued. But it is an absolute gem for people interested in hearing how jazz works.

Beginning on Tape AA03:

Tape master 10983, “Not Yet”

take 1—6:18

Tape master 10984, “B minor” (Miles’ Mode”; “The Red Planet”)

take 1—7:30 (master take)

take 2—7:11

Coltrane practices this piece—2:04

Continuing on Tape AA03B, which has the title “Tunji” affixed to the reel:

Tape master 10985, “Two Three Four” (“Tunji”)

take 1—10:29

take 2—1:02

take 3—1:59

take 4—7:53

Continuing on Tape AA29:

Tape master 10985, “Two Three Four” (“Tunji”)

take 5—7:11

Tape master 10986, “Excerpt” (“Impressions”)

take 1—7:07

Tape master 10985, “Two Three Four” (“Tunji”)

take 6—0:52

take 7—7:50

Tape master 10986, “Excerpt” (“Impressions”)

take 2—4:51 (issued on CD)

And concluding on Tape AA04:

Tape master 10985, “Two Three Four” (“Tunji”)

take 8—1:46

take 9—9:06

take 10, insert 1—0:28

take 11, insert 2—2:26

take 12, insert 3—1:22

take 13, insert 4—0:53

The last reel from the session of June 20, 1962, has two separate monophonic tracks. The first track concludes with Coltrane practicing soprano saxophone (4:39) and, after 45 seconds of silence, both soprano and tenor sax (8:30). The second monophonic track is entirely of Coltrane practicing at home on saxophone and piano.

In John Coltrane: His Life and Music, Lewis Porter wrote: “Coltrane regularly recorded himself while practicing, from the late 1950s through the 1960s. Often, I believe, he would reuse the same tape, recording over it each day. But there are at least a few surviving hours of practice tapes that remain unavailable” (p.255). Here is one. Another example, a minute-long fragment, appears above on tape AA07, and others follow in the reels detailed below, at times with Coltrane practicing the music heard on the group’s studio albums.

Tape AA02 = “Tape 2 of 1962”

Unreleased track of June 29, 1962. Coltrane on tenor saxophone.

This reel has one piece of music, yet another outstanding unreleased interpretation of “Out of this World,” recorded ten days after the version that was released on LP.

Tape master 10993, “Out of This World”

take 1—12:16

Tape AA01 = “Tape 1 of 1962”

Ballads session of November 13, 1962. Coltrane on tenor saxophone throughout.

This reel includes master takes used on Coltrane’s LP Ballads (Impulse! 32), but there is much more to be heard here, including an unreleased title, “They Say It’s Wonderful,” alternative takes of released titles, and new insights into the quartet’s music making.

The tape begins with conversation and the drums and bass introduction to “All or Nothing at All.” Two complete takes follow. The second was issued.

The next title opens with a moment of rehearsal discussion (“There’s no ritard . . .”), pre-empted by the abrupt announcement from the booth: “11163 ‘I Wish I Knew’ take 1.” This breaks down with a fragment of laughter and conversation. The master take follows, except that it turns not to be quite right. They discuss the ending (“wait, wait, listen up man . . .”) and record a new ending as “insert 1.” The version that we hear on the Ballads album is a composite of these two, the original ending deleted, and the new ending spliced onto the rest.

Once again, just as with some of the performances noted above, there is no obvious reason why the single complete take of the ballad “They Say It’s Wonderful” would not have been released. It is beautiful.

Tape master 11162, “All or Nothing at All”

conversation and intro—0:26

take 1—3:44

take 2—3:35 (master take)

Tape master 11163, “I Wish I Knew”

conversation and intro—0:47

take 1—4:54

insert 1—1:09

Tape master 11164, “They Say It’s Wonderful”

Take 1—3:06

Tape AA10 = “Tape 1 of 1963”; Tape AA14 = “Tape 5 of 1963”; Tape AA12 = “Tape 3 of 1963”; Tape AA11 = Tape 2 of 1963”

Unissued session of March 6, 1963.

Spanning these four tapes in a somewhat scrambled overall order, but with the annotated details of contents in fairly good shape on the tape boxes, is an entire unreleased session consisting of a succession of takes and fragments from seven titles: Frank Lehar’s tune “Vilia”; Coltrane’s interpretation of “Nature Boy,” a song that Nat “King” Cole had made into a hit 15 years earlier; and five compositions by Coltrane.

Rudy Van Gelder mistakenly announces the first piece as “11362 Vilia take 1.” The correct tape master number is 11382. Van Gelder corrects himself at the start of the next piece, an untitled, moderately fast 12-bar blues played by the trio of Coltrane (on soprano sax), Tyner, and Jones. Following a hard-to-hear fragment of conversation in the studio, Van Gelder gets this untitled blues going with the announcement “11382, uh, 383, original.”

The stunners here are four new and previously unknown takes of “Impressions,” two of which Coltrane does in trio versions, without piano. For lack of access to the tapes, these versions of “Impressions” have been cloaked in Coltrane discographies as an “Untitled Original.” Coltrane also offers a sweet opportunity to compare and contrast his playing style, with one full take of “Vilia” on tenor sax and the next full take on soprano sax. The last piece has a killer tenor solo on the item announced by Van Gelder in a rapid-fire voice from the control booth, just before the start, as “11388 original blues slow blues take 1.”

Beginning on tape AA10:

Tape master 11382, “Vilia,” Coltrane on tenor sax,

take 1—0:13

take 2—0:08

take 3—5:28

Tape master 11382, “Vilia,” Coltrane on soprano sax,

take 4—0:11

take 5—4:25

Tape master 11383, Untitled Original, Coltrane on soprano sax,

take 1—6:38 (inclusive of conversation)

Tape master 11384, “Nature Boy,” Coltrane on tenor sax,

take 1—3:16

Tape master 11385, Untitled Original (“Impressions”), Coltrane on tenor sax,

take 1—4:07

Continuing on tape AA14:

Tape master 11385, Untitled Original (“Impressions”), Coltrane on tenor sax,

take 2—4:30

Tape master 11385, Untitled Original (“Impressions”), Coltrane on tenor sax in a trio with Garrison and Jones for these two takes,

take 3—4:01

take 4—3:40

Tape master 11386, Untitled Original, Coltrane on soprano sax,

take 1—8:40

Continuing on tape AA12:

Tape master 11386, Untitled Original, Coltrane on soprano sax,

take 2—8:37

take 3—1:12

take 4—0:26

take 5—8:22

Tape master 11387, Untitled Original, Coltrane on tenor sax,

take 1—7:02

And concluding on tape AA11:

Tape master 11387, Untitled Original, Coltrane on tenor sax,

take 2—0:37

take 3—0:04

take 4—2:13

take 5—7:11

Tape master 11388, Untitled Original, Slow Blues, Coltrane on tenor sax,

take 1—11:28

Tape AA23 = “Tape 3 undated”; Tape AA24 = “Tape 4 undated”; Tape AA25 = Tape 5 undated”; Tape AA21 = “Tape 1 undated”; Tape AA22 = “Tape 2 undated”.

John Coltrane and Johnny Hartman, March 7, 1963. Coltrane on tenor sax throughout the session, except for “Afro Blue,” on soprano sax.

In his liner notes to the 1995 LP reissue of the ballad session recorded by John Coltrane’s quartet with singer Johnny Hartman, record producer Michael Cuscuna describes the genesis of this album: “All of John Coltrane’s Impulse sessions at Rudy Van Gelder’s studio were done directly to two-track stereo tape. After completing this collaboration with Johnny Hartman, a master tape was assembled from the original session tapes.”

“At a later date, Coltrane decided to overdub some additional obbligato saxophone phrases behind Hartman’s vocals on My One and Only Love, Lush Life and You Are Too Beautiful. A new master was made by Rudy Van Gelder, who added some additional echo to the three tracks. Although the first release of the album used the original master without Coltrane’s additional obliggatos, it was later substituted with the new master. This gave rise to the rumor that alternate takes of My One and Only Love, Lush Life and You Are Too Beautiful existed and were issued on some pressings. No alternate takes exist or have been issued.”

“A version of ‘Afro Blue’ was recorded at this session, but it was never issued and no tape of this performance exists.”

Collected on these four reels are all seven titles in their original versions from this session. This major rediscovery changes the picture that Cuscuna saw a decade ago. The tapes do indeed hold both partial and complete alternative takes of the issued titles, as well as the lost versions of “Afro Blue.” Along the way, they provide rich insights into the music-making process, with conversation among the musicians and Van Gelder, and moments of rehearsal.

How is it that this was Johnny Hartman’s one and only significant recording session? He had such a rare package of abilities: a rich baritone voice, perfectly in tune, with complete control of nuances of expression and dynamics, and these musical qualities tied to an ability to convey lyrics with deep understanding. Hartman tosses off “Lush Life,” a tune that has eaten up countless other jazz musicians, as if it were effortless, and it is simply a heart-stopper when he pauses to sing “I was wrong . . . . . . . . . again.” Partial takes and alternative complete takes of these six tunes are sensational from one to the next, and of course Coltrane as usual is exploding with ideas as he solos.

“Autumn Serenade” is of special interest. The 14 takes reveal unrecognized tensions that the musicians deal with in an utterly polite and professional manner, confirming just what everyone knows about John Coltrane’s temperment and his impact on his colleagues. There are no petty tantrums here—the gentlemen just work out their problems as best they can. The instrumentalists know the piece really well, but Hartman is clearly unfamiliar with “Autumn Serenade,” which is just as wickedly difficult a piece as “Lush Life” and much more awkwardly written, with the text not quite fitting the melody (try, for example, to leap up an octave while singing the word “silver”—silVER). The quartet wants to play the piece at a walking tempo, but there are too many words, and Hartman cannot get them all in at that speed. The instrumentalists try to slow down for the singer, but time and again they speed back up. Also, Coltrane has written an introduction, but it seems to cause Hartman trouble, and this intro is deleted on the album. By the end, take 14, poor Hartman is so flummoxed by these various problems that he drops four bars out of the last phrase, but the musicians, ever professional, just skip right along with him, and this becomes the master version. Meanwhile through the course of fourteen takes Coltrane’s solo has evolved into an elaborate spontaneous composition in which he teases out vast implications from one little idea. The same process that leads to Hartman’s flummoxing can be followed to trace Coltrane’s blossoming.

These five reels of tape also reveal that the decision to add echo to Hartman’s voice was extremely ill-advised. The issued albums, whether in LP or CD format, simply do not compare in tone quality to the sound of the tapes. Inexplicably, even Coltrane’s tenor was made to sound thinner and more strident that it actually was in the studio. Certainly the discovery of the lost portions of A Love Supreme is the Holy Grail in this collection of tapes, but these five reels from the Coltrane and Hartman session are a very close rival.

Beginning on Tape AA23:

Tape master 11400, “They Say It’s Wonderful”

take 1—0:07

take 2—0:06

take 3, with rehearsal and conversation—1:23

take 4—5:37

take 5—0:05

take 5 again (“We’ll call it 5.”)—0:12

take 6, with rehearsal and conversation—0:50

take 7—0:33

take 8—5:17

Tape master 11401, “Lush Life”

rehearsal prior to take 1—0:25

take 1—5:19

take 2—0:12

take 2 again—5:28

take 3—0:32

take 4—0:36

take 5—3:26

Continuing on Tape AA24:

Tape master 11401, “Lush Life”

take 6—3:31

take 7—4:42

Something happens just before the end of this take, Hartman breaks down in laughter, and Van Gelder says “At least we’re laughing.” They then record three tries at an insert to be spliced in for an ending to take 7.

insert 1—0:22

insert 2—0:24

insert 3—1:22

Tape master 11402, “My One and Only Love”

take 1—4:03

take 2—0:19

take 3—0:12

take 4—0:33

take 5—0:30

take 6—2:26

take 7—0:09

take 8—4:53

Continuing on Tape AA25:

Tape master 11402, “My One and Only Love”

take 9—0:23

take 10—4:57

Tape master 11403, “Autumn Serenade”

take 1—0:16

take 2—0:47

take 3—0:53 (with rehearsal)

take 3 (again)—2:54

take 4—0:17

take 5—2:34

take 6—1:41 (with rehearsal)

take 7—0:49

take 8—2:42

take 9—1:03

take 10—0:26

take 11—4:10

Continuing on Tape AA21:

Tape master 11403, “Autumn Serenade”

take 12—0:30

take 13—0:11

take 14—4:20

Tape master 11404, “Dedicated to You”

take 1—0:14

take 2 and conversation—1:13

take 3—3:36

As they were finishing the vocal chorus of take 3: Hartman, “Lost the page.” . . . Van Gelder, “Let’s go right from the top.”

take 4—5:53

take 5—5:31

insert 1—1:27

And concluding on Tape AA22:

Tape master 11405, “Afro Blue”

take 1—0:47

take 2—5:47

insert 1—2:10

Tape master 11406, “You Are Too Beautiful”

take 1—5:28

take 2—0:14

take 3—1:25

take 4—5:36

Tape AA13 = “Tape 4 of 1963”; Tape AA15 = “Tape 6 of 1963; Tape AA16 = “Tape 7 of 1963”

Quartet session of April 29, 1963. Coltrane on tenor sax throughout.

The contents of this recording date comprise multiple takes of three pieces: Coltrane’s “After the Rain,” generically titled “Ballad” on the tape box; Jerome Kern’s popular song “All the Things You Are,” radically remolded into a modal jazz version by Coltrane; and “Dear Old Stockholm,” a Swedish folk tune popularized by Miles Davis after Stan Getz had recorded the tune during a Scandinavian visit in 1951. Coltrane had recorded a version of “Dear Old Stockholm” as a member of Davis’s quintet in 1956.

The master take of “After the Rain” appeared on Coltrane’s album Impressions (Impulse! 42). The master take of “Dear Old Stockholm” was issued on a compilation of music by various artists, The Definitive Jazz Scene, volume two (Impulse! 100). Everything else here is new. The quartet’s rendition of “All the Things You Are” has six takes, but really this is pretty much all one thing, as they work through the piece, smoothing out the transition from Coltrane’s solo into Garrison’s bass solo, the transition back to Coltrane, and the ending. Presumably Van Gelder encountered some difficulty in splicing these six parts into a coherent whole, because otherwise there is no reason why a performance this good would have gone unissued.

Beginning on tape AA13:

Tape master 11466, “Ballad” (After the Rain”)

take 1—4:00

take 2—0:07

take 3—1:02

take 4—4:52

take 5—0:04

take 6—4:07 (master take)

Tape master 11467, “All the Things You Are”

take 1—7:56

Continuing on tape AA15:

Tape master 11467, “All the Things You Are”

take 2—8:50

take 3—1:33

take 4—0:34 (conversation only)

take 4 again (as announced)—0:17

take 5—8:50

fragment of bass playing—0:08

take 6—11:19

And concluding on tape AA16:

Tape master 11468, “Dear Old Stockholm”

take 1—1:18

take 2—9:03

take 3—0:12

take 4—10:29 (master take)

Tape AA20 = “Tape 4 of 1964”

Crescent. April 27, 1964. Coltrane on tenor sax.

This reel holds master versions of three titles issued on Coltrane’s album Crescent (Impulse! 66), “Lonnie’s Lament,” “The Drum Thing,” and “Wise One,” as well as an unidentified fragment at the start and a few fragmentary takes of these three titles. As often in this collection, there are major discrepancies between the annotations on the tape box and the actual music on the reel.

Tape master 90082, “Lonnie’s Lament”

unidentified fragment—0:05

unnumbered take—0:03

take 1—11:42 (master take)

Tape master 90083, “The Drum Thing”

take 1—0:29 (conversation and drumming)

Van Gelder says, “Let’s call it take 1.”

take 1 (again)—7:20 (master take)

Tape master 90084, “Wise One”

take 1—0:12

“Someone is moving in a chair.”

take 2—0:17

“Uh-uh, snare’s rattlin’. . . . Take 3.”

take 3—0:07

“Take 3.”

take 3 (again)—0:29

“Take 4.”

take 4—9:01

Annotations on tape box AA26 list further material from this same sesson—take 7 of “Wise One,” and take 1 of both tape master 90085, “Bessie’s Blues,” and tape master 90086, an unreleased performance entitled “Song of Praise,” but the reel in this box does not hold this music. Instead it has a low-fidelity recording of what is probably the trumpeter Jimmy Owens’s band from around 1966 (see below).

Tape AA08 = “Tape 8 of 1962”; Empty tape box AA19 = “Tape 3 - Impulse - B-1 - 12/9/1964”

A Love Supreme, quartet version. December 9, 1964. Coltrane on tenor sax.

Here is the second half of the quartet version of A Love Supreme, with part three, “Pursuance,” segueing directly into part four, “Psalm.” There is an intriguing fragment at the end that addresses a little mystery that has puzzled Coltrane experts for many years. Two saxophonists may be heard momentarily, and the prevailing speculation among jazz writers has been that Coltrane overdubbed a brief second part. Sure ‘nuff, that theory is the right one. On this tape reel the suite proper ends with just one saxophone part. Then, after a pause, insert 1 holds a repetition of the last minute and three-quarters of “Psalm,” but with Coltrane overdubbing his extra notes at the end. Mystery solved.

Tape master 90245, A Love Supreme, pt.3, “Pursuance,” and pt.4, “Psalm”

take 1—17:34

insert 1—1:45

There is a complex confusion of reels and tape boxes going on here. The reel described directly above, for parts 3 and 4 of the quartet version of A Love Supreme, resides in a box belonging to a session of April 13, 1962, with one take of tape master 10873, “Soul Eyes,” and four takes of 10874, “(The) Inchworm.” Discographies of Coltrane list this session as April 11, 1962, but the date on the box, two days later, suggests otherwise.

In addition, the collection of Coltrane tapes has the empty tape box AA19, for what would be a seven-inch reel of the monophonic “B” copy of parts 1 and 2 of the quartet version of A Love Supreme.

10-inch Tape JD16; 10-inch Tape JD17; Tape AA17 = “Tape 1 of 1964 - Coltrane - B-4 - 12/10/64”; Empty tape box AA18 = “Tape 2 of 1964 - Coltrane - Impulse - B -3 - 12/10/1964”

A Love Supreme, part 1, sextet version; quartet version, vocal overdubs. December 10, 1964.

These two ten-inch reels, of extraordinary historic importance, hold stereophonic copies of the master tape of all six takes of part 1, “Acknowledgement,” from the sextet version of A Love Supreme, with Coltrane and Archie Shepp on tenor saxophone, McCoy Tyner on piano, Garrison and Art Davis on string bass, and Elvin Jones, drums. A comparatively inferior copy of takes 1 and 2 only—based on a flawed tape reel that was until now the only known source of music from this date—was recently issued on CD in a “Deluxe Edition” of A Love Supreme. Here, unbelievably, hiding all these years on Naima’s side of the family, are perfectly clean, 15-inches-per-second, high-fidelity reel-to-reel copies of those two takes, as well as the remaining four “lost” takes, two of which are complete.

In his discography of John Coltrane’s music, David Wild reports that Archie Shepp recalled recording all four parts of A Love Supreme that day, but only one tape master number was assigned: 90246. It seems more than likely that what Shepp participated in, and slightly misremembered, was the making of these four complete takes of just that first part of A Love Supreme.

In Ashley Kahn’s book A Love Supreme, Shepp makes some self-deprecating remarks in offering his remembrances of his contributions to the sextet recording of “Acknowledgement,” after hearing the first two takes, nearly forty years later (pp.137–9). And why not? He was a young musician in awe of John Coltrane and rather intimidated by the fact that he had been asked to participate in this session. To make matters worse, as Shepp explained, Coltrane plunged Shepp into the deep water that day, providing no advance notice of what they would play.

If Shepp has an opportunity to hear take 6, he might not be so harsh on himself. By this point, the fourth complete take of “Acknowledgement,” Shepp had gained a firm sense of the piece and figured out just what to do. His playing complements Coltrane’s, and in this setting they are a perfect match for one another. Bassists Garrison and Davis do the same thing in their realm, playing interlocking lines and inventing a duo with Davis’s bowing soaring over Garrison’s foundation. The resulting performance, take 6, is beyond belief. After all these decades of admiring the quartet version of “Acknowledgement,” indeed cherishing it as one of the landmarks of music, anywhere, anytime, it feels somewhat heretical to then suddenly turn around and say, “This sextet version is even better.” But there it is. This version is even better, with Coltrane and Shepp playing with an intensity that makes it sound at some points as if there were three saxophonists present, and then goading each other onwards as they joyously trade the four-note “love supreme” motive.

These tapes also capture a priceless bit of studio conversation along the way, as take 3 breaks down when Art Davis comes in with his bass line about a beat-and-a-half late:

“Ok. All right. Let’s go again. Hang on.”

“You counting, are you counting four for one?”

“I’ll give him . . .”

“One, two, just one bar, see?”

“Oh it’s a slow four?”

“Yeah you, you, you turned it around then, you turned it around, because I think ...”

“No I’m gonna give, I’m gonna give him a four. I’m gonna give him a four-beat pickup, one two three four.”

“So he plays kind of a long count.”

“Yeah.”

“O.k., o.k.”

[take 4 follows]

As if this were not enough, the monophonic seven-inch tape AA17 holds not only a second high fidelity copy of the lost takes 3 through 6 of the sextet version of “Acknowledgement,” but also, in the last portion of that same reel, the ending of the quartet version from the previous day, with the group members overdubbing their chant—“a love supreme, a love supreme, a love supreme”—on top of the instrumental music. There are three overdubs, but Van Gelder maybe be heard saying “1” at the beginning of the third version. What that means for the sequence of events is not immediately obvious.

This seven-inch tape box is labelled B-4. Routinely for all of these seven-inch tapes there would have been two copies, labeled A and B. The box for that other copy, tape “A-4 - 12/10/64,” holding takes 3 through 6 of the sextet version of “Acknowledgement” and the vocal overdubs to the quartet’s version, is pictured on page 137 of Kahn’s book, with the remark that “the other reel” is “presumably lost forever.” Indeed copy A-4 may be lost forever, but now that same music has been found, not only on a monophonic seven-inch reel, but also on the ten-inch stereo reel.

There is also a tease here. Among these Coltrane tapes, box AA19 is empty. It would have held the “B” copy of the seven-inch monographic reel for takes 1 and 2 of the sextet version of “Acknowledgement.” With the ten-inch stereo reels having emerged, this loss is no longer much of a tragedy.

Beginning on 10-inch reel JD16:

Tape master 90246, pt.1, “Acknowledgement”

take 1—9:09

take 2—0:10 (conversation)

take 2 (again)—9:23

Continuing on 10-inch reel JD17:

Tape master 90246, pt.1, “Acknowledgement”

unnumbered fragment—0:10

take 3 (again)—0:56

rehearsal--0:25

take 4—8:50

take 5—0:30

take 6—12:29

Repeating on 7-inch reel AA17, but with additional material:

Tape master 90246, pt.1, “Acknowledgement”

unnumbered fragment—0:10

take 3 (again)—0:56

rehearsal--0:25

take 4—8:50

take 5—0:30

take 6—12:29

Tape master 90243, pt. 4, “Psalm,” ending

overdub 1—1:51

overdub 2—1:59

overdub 3—2:02

Tape reel AA32 (no tape box)

Undated rehearsal, the singer Bill Henderson in a duo with an unidentified pianist. Not a tape of Coltrane.

The name “Bill Henderson” is taped to the reel, and indeed this is a recording featuring Henderson, best known as a singer with Count Basie in the mid-1960s, as well as for a disc on which he sang lyrics to Horace Silver’s “Seńor Blues.” This recording sounds as if it were taken right from Henderson’s microphone, with Henderson’s spoken comments clearly heard over the music. The tape begins with an unidentified pianist playing a fragment of Bud Powell’s tune “Un Poco Loco.” Henderson then sings through three takes of “I’ve got a lot of living to do,” two takes of a classic blues (“I’ve got a gal that lives up on the hill …”); an interrupted take of “You’re nobody til somebody loves you,” with the middle of the piece inadvertantly chopped out; two takes of the title song from the musical Subways are for Sleeping (“Every day just go along dawn til sundown” . . . ”Live and live today”); and two takes of “Hallelujah I love her so.” The piano playing and singing are outstanding: irrepressible swing, great ideas, perfect technique.

Tape AA27 track 1 (unidentified); track 2 = “Undated Art Blakely’s Band” [sic: Blakey] This tape has two monophonic tracks, the first of which is significant for holding four excerpts of what must be Coltrane practicing at home. At first he plays his severely out-of-tune piano, working out the introduction and chords to “Autumn Serenade,” presumably just in advance of the Impulse! recordings with Johnny Hartman in March 1963. The third piano passage emerges after a lengthy period of blank tape. A “click,” and we are into another moment in his life, an aggressive Coltrane practicing tenor sax. Another “click” and his piano playing resumes. Another “click” and he is playing tenor again, beginning this passage with work on soloing to his composition “Impressions.” One last “click” and he is back to the piano. Except for a moment of extremely harsh saxophone playing, when Coltrane ventured too close to the microphone, these portions of the tape are cleanly recorded.

By contrast, the remainder of track one, toward the start of the reel, between the first and second piano passages, is largely a mess. There is a lengthy excerpt of Coltrane’s quartet playing a fast blues, followed by a brief snippet of “My Favorite Things,” but this material is obscured by music and announcements from a pop radio station identified as WYAL, 1290 AM, North Carolina (?!), the broadcast bleeding over severely into the quartet’s sounds. The history of this portion of the reel is anyone’s guess.

Track two on this tape holds a half-hour broadcast by Art Blakey’s band in performance at the club Birdland in New York City, with Freddie Hubbard on trumpet, Curtis Fuller on trombone, Wayne Shorter on tenor saxophone, Cedar Walton on piano, Blakey on drums, and an unidentified bassist, probably Jymie Merritt or Reggie Workman. The recording fidelity is decent—certainly not hi fi, but perfectly listenable—and the band is on fire. A couple of Blakey’s Birdland dates have been issued: on a bootleg LP from July 21, 1962, on the Session Disc label; and on the Riverside LP Ugetsu from June 16, 1963. But the contents of the broadcast held on this tape reel do not match either of those albums. There are three titles: Shorter’s composition “Ping-Pong,” the ballad “Skylark” featuring Hubbard on trumpet, and then a hard-bop version of “Three Blind Mice.” This is unreleased material from one of Art Blakey’s best bands.

Tape AA28 = “Tape 8 undated Ornette Coleman”

Unreleased Ornette Coleman recordings of December 26, 1966.

In Ornette Coleman 1958–1979: a Discography, David Wild lists a private tape made at the Village Theatre in New York City on December 26, 1966, by Coleman’s trio with David Izenzon on string bass and Charles Moffett, drums. Wild provides this note: “Tapes of this concert are not in circulation among collectors, and further details are not available at this time. The concert was produced by Coleman and John Coltrane, whose group also performed” (p.28). Wild names five titles: “The Aware,” “9 To 5,” “Birthday,” “Science Fiction,” and “Mothers of the Prophets,” all composed by Coleman.

This two-track reel holds two separate monophonic recordings that almost certainly correspond to the private tape described by Wild. Certainly the players are Coleman, Izenzon (with passages of his characteristic bowed bass soloing), and Moffett. Track one is a half-hour improvisation. Track two holds two more pieces and a portion of a third. There is no identification on the tape box or on the tape itself, but Wild mentions that Coleman plays trumpet on “Birthday,” and since Coleman is heard solely on alto saxophone through this reel, it seems a reasonable inference that these are the other four titles. There is a indefinite, generalized resemblance between the long piece on track one and the title track of Coleman’s 1971 Columbia LP Science Fiction, in that both are frenetic free-jazz improvisations, but the link is not terribly strong, and it really is anyone’s guess which title is which on this tape.

The recording fidelity is reasonably good. It has the slightly hollow and distant sound of a group recording into a single microphone. The playing is great. Who would like to have an hour of unreleased Coleman recordings?

On track 1:

?“Science Fiction”—29:41

On track 2:

?—6:36

?—19:26

?—3:23

Tape AA26 = “Tape 6 (undated)”; Tape AA09 = “Tape 9 of 1962”

Jimmy Owens’s group of circa 1966 and unidentified recordings.

As discussed above, tape box AA08, alleged to hold recordings of “Soul Eyes” and “(The) Inchworm” from Coltrane’s quartet session of April 13, 1962 (given as April 11, 1962, in discographies), turns out instead to hold parts 3 and 4 of the quartet version of A Love Supreme. Similarly, tape box AA09 purports to hold the remainder of that April 13th session, further takes of “(The) Inchworm” as well as takes of the third title recorded that day, tape master 10875, “Big Nick.” Instead, the reel in box AA09 holds on four separate tracks and at various tape speeds a largely indecipherable potpourri of recordings, including what seems to be an hour of solo string bass playing. The one identifiable segment is a low-fidelity recording, probably a broadcast, announced midstream as involving trumpeter Jimmy Owens in a sextet or septet.

Tape AA26 adds to the confusion of reels and boxes. It purports to hold the second half of the session of April 27, 1964 (see above, tape AA20), with further takes of “Wise One” and take 1 of both tape master 90085, “Bessie’s Blues” and tape master 90086, an unreleased performance entitled “Song of Praise,” but instead the reel in this box hold a performance that sounds as if it is by the same band identified as Jimmy Owens’s on tape AA09. The group starts out playing “The Shadow of Your Smile,” the theme song from The Sandpiper. Since this movie came out in 1965 and Coltrane died in 1967, it seems reasonable to pin a date of circa 1966 on these reels, unless the two reels somehow came into the collection of Coltrane tapes posthumously. That, of course, is entirely possible, given the large number of instances in which a reel made its way into the wrong box. Clearly there are numerous further Coltrane tapes and reels still “hiding.”

Errata from Wolfgang Schmaler.

Session of June 20, 1962: “Not Yet,” take 2 of “Miles’ Mode,” takes 1, 4, 5, and 7 of “Tunji,” and take 1 of “Impressions” were issued on Coltrane/Deluxe Edition, Verve/Impulse! 314-589-567-2, etc.

Session of November 13, 1962: The conversation and introduction (0:19) to “All or Nothing at All” were released on John Coltrane Legacy, Impulse! 314-589-295-2, etc. Take 1 of “All or Nothing at All,” and “They Say It’s Wonderful,” were both released on Ballads/Deluxe Edition, Verve/Impulse! 314-589-548-2, etc.

Session of March 6, 1963: Take 5 of “Vilia” (4:35) was released on The Definitive Jazz Scene, vol. 3, Impulse! A9101, etc.

Session of April 27, 1964: Incomplete versions of “Bessie’s Blues” (2:58) and “Song of Praise” (2:40) were released on The Classic Quartet, Impulse! IMPD 8-280.