Albums
The AwakeningReleased: 1970Ahmad Jamal
Album Credits
Ahmad Jamal - Piano
George S. Whiteman - Illustration
Jamil Nasser - Bass
George Sawtelle - Engineering
Chuck Stewart - Photography
Ed Michel - Producer
The evolution of contemporary piano has brought to the forefront three main types of artists. There are the primitives, who have fashioned out of a relatively limited technique some special idiomatic approach (the boogie woogie pioneers come most readily to mind). Second, there are the sophisticates, well equipped academically, men whose performances are beyond technical reproach though at times an emotional element may be lacking. The third category comprises those pianists who are able to bring to their work the passion of the first group along with the musicianly values of the second. Among them, Ahmad Jamal has always ranked high on the roster.
Perhaps I am old fashioned, but it seems to me that men like Jamal are needed more than ever in times like these, when the piano itself is less and less respected as an instrument, when virtuosity is so rarely recognized as a virtue necessary to every great performance, and when small electronic keyboards are so often employed as a substitute for the genuine article. Ahmad Jamal is one of the most pianistic of pianists. He plays a nine foot Steinway grand in this album, and extracts from it sounds that reflect not only the majesty of the instrument but his love for it and the perennial dedication to it that has marked his distinguished career.
This is not to say that other keyboard inventions are without validity. Jamal no doubt could play an electric piano just as a tennis player might take up ping-pong. Still, when you listen to the music on these sides, you will react, as those of us who have followed his career through the years have always reacted, to the brilliance of his command, the singular articulation, the pearl-like strands of his arpeggios, all the qualities that have established him as one of those genuine masters, who deserve nothing but the best as their medium of expression.
The opening track, The Awakening, makes extensive use of a simple four-note phrase (2-3-5-1 on the diatonic scale) building an occasionally blues-tinged performance marked by changes of mood, tempo and rhythm that lend the overall work a splendid sense of form. Ahmad plays one series of upward runs here that will leave most pianists gasping in disbelief--mixed, no doubt, with envy. A particularly striking example of how Jamal works with a piece of material is I Love Music, a work of Ellingtonian beauty written by Emil Boyd and Hale Smith. This is primarily a piano solo, with the bass and drums added only for a change of pace in the middle section. ONe hates to draw such comparisons, but there is a temptation to say that Jamal here plays with Tatum-like authority.
The side’s closing track, Patterns, immediately attests to another firm verity: the Jamal group, whatever its personnel, has always been a genuine trip, never a pianist with rhythm accompaniment. Jamil Nasser has been a part of the tightly meshed unit since 1964, Frank Gant since 1966. The empathy among the three men is extraordinary. Notice particularly how superbly Nasser’s bass lines are coordinated with Jamal’s left hand when the arrangement calls for it. At other points, Jamal plays incredibly delicate single-note right hand lines while using the left for punctation, leaving the underlying pulsation to Nasser and to the sturdy eight-beat sticks-on-cymbal of Gant.
The composition, like most Jamal originals, has a charm of both conception and interpretation that transcends the need to analyze structure or offer technical explanations. As one of his staunchest admirers, Cannonball Adderley, said some years ago, “Ahmad’s not like the average jazz musician who uses the pop tune as a vehicle. He approaches each number as a composition in itself, and tries to work out something particular for each tune that will fit it.” Dolphin Dance was composed by Herbie Hancock, a pianist-composer who in his best work has shown something of the Jamal spirituality and lyricism. Although this version is faster than Herbie’s, it has a gentle, easy quality that is superbly suited to the nature of the work.
The only old standard of the set is a 1931 ballad, You’re My Everything. Introduced in a long forgotten revue The Launch Parade, this became the title song for a 1949 movie in which Dan Dailey sang it. Jamal moves straight into the Hary Warren melody, playing it in a long meter (i.e doubling the number of measures). Despite the many ingenious melodic and rhythmic shifts with which he invests it, the original theme is never too far out of earshot. After an affecting vamp, the poignant melody of Oliver Nelson’s Stolen Moments captures the precise feeling of the composer’s treatment in the early 1960s. Jamal, who clearly knows what tunes are best suited to him, chose a lovely work here and treated it with the tender loving care it deserves.
Wave, the Jobim tune, makes discreet use of the bossa nova beat without any of the obvious Brazilian clichés. Curiously, this is one of Jobim’s less familiar numbers, though recently musicians have begun to elevate it to what will in due course be the status of a standard.
An overview of the entire album brings into focus another important aspect of the Jamal genius: though he has moved with the times, has continued to progress ideationally, he retains the same essential characteristics that have always marked his work: the ability to extract from a composition everything the writer put into it (sometimes more), and that same distinctive sound that established his national popularity back in the days of But Not for Me (1958) and seems likely to sustain him forever.
For anyone who has long been familiar with Ahmad Jamal, such comments are superfluous; for youngsters and newcomers, let this album serve as a delightful if belated awakening.
By: Leonard Feather
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