Without You
Quelle: Spotify
Dannie Richmond opens with a written repeated rhythmatic bass drum to snare drum to sock cymbal figure that suggests two tempos along with its own tempo
These three tempos are alternately used throughout the entire composition along with accelerandos, retards, and rubatos. A slow ballad opens the second track that soon develops to the second alto theme after the piano interlude and solo. Then a double-time tempo of that same ballad tempo that arrives after the piano-intrance. The first and second piano solos on the third track, the third mode on the A side incidentally, is Mingus playing. Mingus played the two opening piano solos in the third track as example to Jaki Byard at his, Jaki's, request to show him or play it himself. At first Jaki seemed only impressed to use pyrotechnical piano arpeggios, scales, etc., consecutive thirds, and grouped fifths rather than to invent suitable melody within the context of the coming theme and thematic material already laid out for piano ad lib by the composer. However, Bob Thiele felt to include the two examples given by Mingus which served to also clear up the intended idea enough for Jaki Byard to give himself up wholly to the composer's development and help to prepare the listeners for the next idea intended by the composer - right on down to the moanful background where Charles Mariano knew tears of sound were what was the intended thought in the background and what also was meant to come out of his alto sax solo. No words or example were needed to convey this idea to Charles Mariano. Only his love of living and knowing life and his understanding of the composer's desire to have one clear idea at least musically recorded here for record
Back to the drum opening - 12:8, 6:8, 9:8, 3:4 - whatever musical stenographers may care to title what the composer heard in his head, is part of a very old idea that someday all good music will return from its assorted labels which inhibit it with fashions, styles, and certain celebrated rhythms of pounding exactness that lead this composer to believe that either the musician or the audience playing or liking such repeated debuts of so-called musical inventions must be nuts to need drums, bass, guitar, and piano to pound out the already too obvious time night after night 'til actually if sanity can't be sustained one begins to like it without twisting or even dancing, popping fingers, or at least working out one's frenzy in ye old brass bed mama
Time, perfect or syncopated time, is when a faucet dribbles from a leaky washer. I'm more than sure an adolescent memory can remember how long the intervals were between each collision of our short-lived drip and its crash into an untidy sink's overfilled coffee cup with murky grime of old cream still clinging to the edges or a tidy rust stained enamel sink that the owner of such has given up on the idea that that maintenance man is ever going to change the rhythm beat of his dripping faucet by just doing his job and changing that rotten old rubber washer before time runs out of time
Musicians partly come into the circle of various blame which encompasses much more than leaky faucets, rotten washers, or critics. Wow! Critics! How did they get here?
I know. It's Freudian. Faucets and old rotten washers. The innocent audiences that are sent in the direction of premature musicians - critics who want to play and some who play and study at music and can only encompass soul-wise and technically about someone else what they themselves can comprehend. They sing - good or bad you never know. They won't dare stand up with their bald heads or long hair and do so. Especially with their sexataries who usually keep them so busy elsewhere but in places where music is to be played and reviewed. Critics, they sing, dance, play the piano, bass, drums, saxes, and most of the oral instruments. I even know one who can hear. I mean he can actually hear the difference between a major triad and A minor. He can also take old chords off old records recorded in 1902 by Jelly Roll Morton. After this accomplishment for many years now he also knows that every musician who improvises copies Louis Armstrong. And this man works while musicians who just play music are scuffling to pay rent or have their wives bury them in dirt with the few dollars insurance the American Federation of Musicians calls insurance. This kind of critic-musician man teaches people how to listen to music in new schools and he gets paid to play records to brainwash innocent little people who don't know that if you're going to like something that's beautiful no one can tell you how if it don't just happen. If it doesn't just happen, you're already brainwashed and instead of hiring someone to tell you what's beautiful for you, and you're past five years old, this means you need an analyst, not a public bathroom attendant with dirty faucets, who only knows what's beautiful to him because of his own inadequacies as to how and why he knows everything Jelly Roll Morton, Flush Gordon, Louis Armstrong, et cetera did and on down to whoever he says is modern. He can even read and score music. Yet this musician-critic fails to ever turn over any charts of his own to be played by musicians he's hired. But should one of these men whose music he reviews and labels come up with some little thing he truly believes is one of his own musical forms, well at least he had not heard it done in his thirty-five years in certain segregated elements of music that the critic is partly responsible for upholding the cursed name, Dirty Faucet will say in his favorite brainwashing voice, "My boy, I notice you call this music extended form when you use only one chord. Why, Jelly Roll Morton did that in 1902," and brings in the following week the music that is similar in some respects. Yet this same kind of critic ten years later, when this extended form you used in a few tunes, or what is known in other music as pedal point, ten or more years later has too long been a fad by others who too may never have heard Jelly Roll Morton, and maybe not even this composer. Yet this same critic boasts the guys in print like it's his team professionally that uses this pedal point form so it's okay and he's never mentioning Jelly Roll did it in 1902 and Mingus in 1957, that is to his knowledge, at a village club. It was 1959. He missed these forms in the composers' workshop in 1954. He also missed the extended form in 1940,
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