#Quiet kenny kenny dorham rarity full
Any new reissue of a Kenny Dorham date is welcome, guaranteed to be full of Dorham's inventive twists and surprises as a soloist as well as composer. Leave it to the least showy, most thoughtful of trumpet players to compose and perform a Trompeta Toccata (show piece) and make it work. Finally, Dorham's playful yet respectful treatments of the sentimental chestnut "My Ideal" and the normally fulsome-sounding Harry James' vehicle, "I Had The Craziest Dream," are so seductively guileless a listener can feel guiltless pronouncing them simply "charming. "Lotus Blossom," the opener on Quiet Kenny, has a similar approach, demonstrating not only the leader's rare economy but his ability to connect phrases in a manner that masks structural markers. He alternates between tonguing and legato articulations approaches the note from slightly above, then below, the pitch varies the articulations by allowing the sound to explode one moment and implode the next and finally relinquishes the note to the chord sequence and dances with it, via potentially "corny" emphasis on the first beat of each double eighth-note pattern, to a supremely felicitous close. For example, on what is arguably his best all-around session, Whistle Stop, he makes an adventure out of repeating the tonic note on a blues in F ("Buffalo ). And few play with so little pose and showmanship, simply trusting the substance of the music itself to make senseintellectually and emotionallywithout reliance on extraneous effects.Īt times Dorham's horn sounds like one or two valves are stuck, limiting him to endless repetition of a single note. Yet careful listening reveals that no other musician prepares and "cures" each note like Dorham before launching it on a lovely albeit fragile cushion of sound. The playing is on a level with Dorham's best work elsewhere ( Whistle Stop, Blue Note, 1961 Una Mas, Blue Note, 1963), but there are two undeniable bonuses: Dorham's is the only horn, giving him more valuable time to tell his compelling stories and the pianist is Tommy Flanagan, whose dynamically nuanced, carefully sculpted lines are the perfect match for the trumpet's exquisitely crafted statements.Ī newcomer to Dorham's music might be forgiven for being decidedly unimpressed by a ballad treatment such as Dorham's reading of "Alone Together," so minimalist and naked as to appear reductive if not amateurish. Thoughtful, playful, lyrical but never effusive, Dorham is, as Dan Morgenstern calls him in the notes for this latest RVG edition, the most "poetic" of trumpet players. The title of the 1959 date, Quiet Kenny, is almost redundant, less descriptive of the session than of Dorham himself, who plays no differently here than in the explosive groups of Blakey or Silver. It can only be hoped that the reissue of these two "classic" Dorham sessionssufficiently distinct from one another to represent the frequently paradoxical playing of this remarkable musician will not only help redress the neglect Dorham has received, but also introduce listeners to one of the more original and infectious sounds in American music. Besides the warmth and abundant humor, there's an unmistakable tenderness and vulnerability in Dorham's playing that not only touches a deep emotional core but more often than not sets off the luminous triumph of each of his poignant creations. He let the music come to him, using his smallish yet centered, round sound to deconstruct and then reconstruct its most essential phrases into gemlike solos. He eschewed the passionate romanticism of Clifford Brown, the dramatic flare of Lee Morgan, and the brassy virtuosity of Freddie Hubbard in favor of unfailing melodic logic and economical lyricism, lightened by a frequently playful, puckish approach.
Kenny Dorham was the thinking person's trumpet player.
Moreover, when you review even Dorham's more publicized credentials≼harlie Parker's preferred front-line partner 1948-50, trumpeter on the seminal Horace Silver session ( And the Jazz Messengers, Blue Note, 1954) that introduced "The Preacher" and the "hard bop" movement, composer of "Blue Bossa" and the ubiquitous intermission "Theme"the more's the wonder his name rarely comes up in discussions of the giants. Possibly so, if Art Blakey's anointing of Dorham as the "uncrowned trumpet king" is to be taken seriously. Is it possible for a musician who has achieved widespread fame for non-recognition to remain "deserving" of the description? The critic Gary Giddins once wrote that Kenny Dorham's name is "virtually synonymous with 'underrated'." Which raises a question.
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