The Eddie in the title? Eddie Harris, the funkily bluesy grooving saxophonist known for many gifts to humanity beyond the grave including ‘Freedom Jazz Dance’. Contrarily it’s not here directly although more creatively the title track refers to the tune inspirationally on this latest from the rampaging Reynolds.
Neither, curiously, are other staples of the Harris repertoire included although the fact that ‘Just Friends’ is squeezed in makes a connection given that Harris recorded the staple synonymous with Charlie Parker.
Being a bit oblique is a clever enough ploy because if Reynolds strayed far closer to the source, everyone would be making direct comparisons.
So it’s – if you like – a hook to hang an album on but one that allows space for Reynolds’ considerable playing personality to make its presence felt, too.
It isn’t but it works standing on its own feet in a skeletal setting where guitar is the main foil heading a small core rhythm section trio of bass and drums that is faithful but doesn’t tug the forelock.
The main focus is of course saxophone and Reynolds’ soloing on Einar Swan’s 1930s song ‘When Your Lover Has Gone’ really cooks following by a gutsy, almost primitive solo from guitarist Andrew Renfroe that adds contrast and interest.
Tunes also include Irving Berlin’s ‘Change Partners.’
Listening to ‘When Your Lover’ makes me reach for Sonny Rollins Tenor Madness 1956 version.
That’s the gold standard and holy grail. Let’s not exaggerate, Reynolds doesn’t get close to what Newk could do on the sax in his pomp.
Nor could, incidentally, Harris hope to emulate Rollins! But neither needed to try. They are their own best arbiter of their own preferred type of expression on the saxophone.
Eddie Harris (20 October 1934–5 November 1996) was a Chicago born tenor saxophonist, composer and bandleader, celebrated both as a hit-making crossover artist and as one of jazz’s most inventive tinkerers with electricity and extended techniques.
Born in Chicago to a religious family, Harris sang in church as a child, studied piano at home, and attended DuSable High School, where he came under the influence of the famed band director Capt. Walter Dyett. He made his first professional appearances as a pianist, including a one-nighter with tenorist Gene Ammons while still in his teens or early twenties.
After college he was drafted into the U. S. Army and assigned to the Seventh Army Symphony Orchestra in Europe, later joining its jazz band. On discharge he worked in New York, then returned to Chicago and signed with Vee-Jay Records in the early 1960s.
Harris died in Los Angeles in 1996, aged 62, leaving a body of work that spans hard bop, soul-jazz, funk, electric experimentation and freer forms.
Discographically, a handful of landmark albums mark the main turning points. His debut LP as leader, Exodus to Jazz (Vee-Jay, 1961), featuring his tenor-sax version of the film theme ‘Exodus,’ produced a major radio hit and is often cited as the first jazz LP to be certified gold.
Mid-decade he moved to Atlantic Records, where The In Sound (released in 1966 – Cedar Walton’s comping is incredibly catchy: it’s long, tall bass leviathan Ron Carter whose holy roller ‘Sweet Sweet Spirit’ rocks) introduced his original ‘Freedom Jazz Dance,’ soon picked up by Miles Davis and destined to become his best-known tune.
cliché, phase in the mouths of insincere gobshites), Atlantic period with albums such asThe Electrifying Eddie Harris (1967), Tender Storm (1966) and the live Swiss Movement with pianist Les McCann (recorded at Montreux in 1969). The Electrifying Eddie Harris reached high on the R&B chart, and Swiss Movement, featuring Gene McDaniels classic ‘Compared to What’ and Harris’ ‘Cold Duck Time,’ became a signature crossover success.
In his later years he often returned to acoustic tenor in small-group settings while retaining his idiosyncratic harmonic and rhythmic approach, and he recorded and toured internationally, including a collaboration with guitarist John Scofield in the mid-1990s.
Also on the album is a treatment of ‘Charade,’ a song I’m spookily fond of – I heard English singer Jo Harrop sing it live last year at Magy’s Farm in Northern Ireland.
Reynolds shows how much he is a romantic on his treatment but not just on this song.
And the stately heartbreaker at the end, a treatment of the Don Raye and Gene De Paul classic ‘You Don’t Know What Love Is’ from the 1940s synonymous with Billie Holiday’s treatment on Lady in Satin in the 50s, is beautifully gauged. Drummer Charles Ruggiero nails the feel.
