“tal_farlow”
Tal Farlow
The Swinging Guitar of Tal Farlow
Verve
The guitar has as long and storied a tradition as any of the other jazz instruments, from Allan Reuss to Django Reinhardt to Russell Malone.
Certainly the dominant figure was Charlie Christian, whose innovations with the Benny Goodman sextet were as important to the evolution from swing to bop as the jam sessions at Minton’s after hours. The ownership bought an amplifier and kept it there so Christian wouldn’t have to lug his back and forth from 52nd Street. But it’s easy to forget that Christian died in 1941, especially when you compare his records to those of countless Christian fundamentalists. Having been liberated from the burden of pure accompaniment, you may often find that their ideas dry up pretty quick. Thus, even the best post-war guitarists have had problems sustaining creativity long enough to posit themselves as legitimate Christian heirs. Some (Mundell Lowe, Barney Kessell) lapsed into long periods of studio work, while others (Grant Green, Wes Montgomery) had their best years compromised by bad producers. Django could hardly be considered a Christian follower; though his best album ( Peche A La Mouche , recorded in 1947 and 1953) displays some influence, mainly the simple fact of amplification. But I think the answer is clear: Tal Farlow is the greatest jazz guitarist since Charlie Christian, hands down.
The autodidactic Mr. Farlow, who “idea-wise is like a swinging waterfall with a rare resourcefulness of fresh conception,” according to Nat Hentoff, was born in June of 1921. His first big job was with the trio of vibraphonist Red Norvo, where he replaced Lowe and preceded Jimmy Raney. He stayed six years, of which the best were 1950-51, when the group also featured a young Charles Mingus.
The Swinging Guitar , recorded 5/31/56, was Farlow’s first album after leaving Norvo. He is joined by bassist Vinnie Burke and pianist Eddie Costa. This kind of instrumentation wasn’t new, but they make it sound new. Drummerless trios often sound trite and perfunctory, as if the absence of explicit rhythm is an excuse to stop swinging. But Farlow and company bring a cerebral groove to the proceedings that informs itself, making percussion moot. There’s a lot of empathy between the players, especially for a brand-new trio. Each man functions as both soloist and accompanist, and the transitions are seamless because there’s always something going on.
Among Farlow’s talents is his ability to play fast. Oh sure, anybody can drop a single-note run here and there, but Farlow seems to have no limit to his inventiveness; his solos are folksy and ferocious all at once. With a group like this, you would expect a lot of ballads, but they aren’t to be found. Granted, there is nothing quite as fast as Farlow’s version of “Cherokee” (from Jazz Masters 41 ), but songs like “Taking a Chance on Love,” “You Stepped Out of a Dream,” and “Gone With the Wind” are taken at much quicker tempos than is the norm. When Burke or Costa solo, Tal finds more subtle ways to show off: he will comp without electricity, or he will hold the strings down and tap them, which sounds like a snare drum. Coolest of all, in the last chorus of “Yardbird Suite (alternate take),” he plays what I call the “Herb Ellis Bongo Beat,” best displayed on the Oscar Peterson Trio’s recording of “Swingin’ Til the Girls Come Home” (from J.A.T.P. in Tokyo: Live at the Nichigeki Theatre 1953 ).
While Farlow demands listening anytime the opportunity arises, the difference between a good album and a great album is usually the sidemen, and the contributions of Burke and Costa are what put this album over the top. Burke’s original instrument was guitar, and I think it helped him keep up with Farlow. He keeps a solid beat, and his solos are fat and very boppish. Costa (who also played vibes) drew rave reviews when the trio opened at the Composer Room in New York that spring, inspiring some of Hentoff’s finest hyperbole. Costa “swings so hard that he piles in the feeling to this listener that he’s about to disappear into the ground or break all gravitational bonds and head for Mars. Eddie has the kind of larger-than-life size pulsation that makes every chorus by him a re-energizing experience. Since he also has a wig (brain) as well as bursting emotions, his solos are conceptually successful as well in a clean, spare, modern mainstream way.” His solos remind me of Lennie Tristano: fast, horn-like, driven with logic and precision, especially remarkable for a lad of 26.
The Swinging Guitar is among the first new releases of 1999, and is essential listening for Farlow fans and guitar aficionados. But it is also highly valuable for the statements of Vinnie Burke, whose name doesn’t pop up in discographies beyond the late ’50s, and Eddie Costa, who died in a 1962 car accident. Tal Farlow took leave of this dimension last summer, his amp silenced but his reputation firmly established forever. Hopefully, we have only the first of many Farlow albums to emerge from the vaults.
Verve Records, 10th Floor, 555 W. 57th Street, New York, NY 10019; http://www.verveinteractive.com
