The Best of Gerry Mulligan With Chet Baker

All the old Mulligan favorites are on the CD and demonstrate the empathy that he and Baker had at the time. It is music of the fifties but worth reinvestigating in the 2000s.

To quote Humphrey Lyttleton, speaking of a different CD, I have run out of superlatives to describe this music. It is difficult to believe that this has been around in one format or another for almost fifty years, and that the first releases were on 78 rpm shellac discs. This actually gives a clue to the content; every track is an exquisite miniature, designed to shoehorn into the 3 minutes, which was as much as the disc could accommodate. I first heard this music in the mid-fifties when I was still at school; in the midst of a record session devoted to Lonnie Donegan if I remember rightly, someone turned up with an Extended Play 45 rpm record, and I stayed behind out or curiosity to hear it. It has been a part of my life ever since. My experience of Jazz up until then had been at the St Albans Jazz Club in the Market Hall, and I had adopted unconsciously certain criteria. To play Jazz successfully you had to be drunk, you had to be loud, and you had to be dirty. You went to such a club to chat to your friends and nobody listened to the music. It was what I now call 'Hairy Jazz', and it followed very strict format with a trumpet/clarinet/trombone front line, and if it was "modern" it had a piano instead of a banjo.

My exposure to the Mulligan Quartet changed all that. My first impression was that these blokes know what they were doing. It was quiet; it did not shout at you; it sounded different to anything I'd ever heard, and it was precise. Every note was where it should be and, more importantly, every note could be heard. This was possibly due to the fact that there was no piano in the group; this was the "revolutionary" aspect that people have emphasised every since, but as I was completely new to the genre all I noticed was the clarity that the absence of the piano gave to the sound. On the other hand I did think that it was following many of the traditions I had decided were important; on each track there was a fair amount of collective improvisation. The EP in question was had four tracks which are rightly regarded as classics: 'Bernie's Tune', 'Walkin' Shoes', 'Nights at the Turntable', and 'Lullaby of the Leaves'.

What immediately impressed me about the music is the amount of light and space there is. 'Bernie's Tune' is a perfect example; it is the nearest of the four tracks which could be called up-tempo, yet it is in no sense a 'thrash' There is a definite space between the first phrase, and it's repeat. Although the music follows all the criteria of Jazz, which in the essence is improvised music, one has the impression that the ensemble passages are carefully rehearsed; although with musicians of such talent these rehearsals would have taken no time at all. Even in the collective improvisations there is the feeling that everyone is listening carefully to everyone else, and that there is no need for them all to be playing all of the time.

'Walkin' Shoes' and 'Nights at the Turntable' were my first experience of Mulligan's writing; lovely medium-tempo tunes which are immediately and lastingly memorable. It always amazes me that nobody has thought to add lyrics. Lullaby of the Leaves is missing from this compilation, but Soft Shoe is here. This is one of my all-time favourite jazz compositions, and it gives me great pleasure every time I hear it. Included from the early sessions is Chet Baker's Freeway, showing that the group is the equal of any esoteric bop outfit when it comes to speed and control. The original vinyl EP had a Mulligan chorus cut, but it is restored on the CD.

Throughout these four tracks Bob Whitlock ably supports the front line on bass and Chico Hamilton on drums. Hamilton later went on to lead a mould-breaking quintet, but that's another story.

For the other tracks on the CD, recorded in the spring of 1953, Carson Smith replaces Whitlock, and Larry Bunker comes in instead of Hamilton. These changes make no difference to the overall sound of the group. Every track is a miniature masterpiece. Listen and wonder at the rapport and empathy between all four musicians, particularly between the front-line pair. There is not much that can be said about all the individual tracks, so I will confine myself to a few points which might not be generally known.

Bt no means all of the original sessions material is here. Some tracks have alternate takes on EPs and LPs, and for any serious student of this music would be well rewarded by looking round second-hand shops for vinyl copies of this group. What you should be looking for, as well as the various tracks which are not included here, is the original version of 'My Funny Valentine'. The version on this CD is a real gem; it is not the studio recording that most people have heard. It is a version recorded at the Haig Club, I suspect on the occasion when the quartet was augmented for a session with the addition of Lee Konitz. It is as good as the original version, but for anyone who has heard this version an earful of the original is a must.

The CD ends with an oddity. There is a recorded version of 'Festive Minor' with Art Farmer on trumpet, but as far as I am aware this is the first airing with the original front line. It is recorded in 1957, some four years after the last of the other tracks, and I think you can tell. Baker had moved on; I suspect this track is a leftover from the 'Reunion with Chet Baker' LP. I find it is not up to the standard of the other tracks. For a start there is no collective improvisation. Mulligan plays the melody, and moves into the first solo as if it were a trio recording, with Baker not appearing until his solo. It is competent and pleasant music, but there is a fragility about it, particularly Chet baker's contribution, which could lead one to speculate about the state of his health, or perhaps the effects of narcotics, when it was made. He does not appear until Mulligan has finished his solo, he is supported throughout by Gerry and does not play anything without the Baritone being present, and he is very wobbly in the final statement of the theme. Even so, there is the same wistfulness about his playing, but the impression I get is that the two were metaphorically in separate rooms.

To sum up, this music still gives me the same buzz as it did when I first heard it all those years ago. It is a pity that all of the tracks could not be released on CD; a quick calculation tells me that there is some 46 minutes of music here, and there was room for a lot more - and there is a lot more to hear. But that does not detract from what is here, a collection of music for which I have no longer any superlatives. I hope it will leave you craving for more.

But that is not to detract from the music that we do hear. It is superb. In terms of melodic invention, tightness of ensemble playing, warmth, originality, swing, intimacy, and above all, a front line that can follow and anticipate every breath of his partner, it is one of the best small groups ever to play jazz. The original Gerry Mulligan Quartet is the benchmark by which all small groups should be measured. Any one who calls her - or him - self a jazz enthusiast should be familiar with this music. Not to know it is to miss something truly memorable.