The Composer's Roots: Cedar Walton (Nov. 1, 1999)
Listen back-to-back to a dozen of the many albums on which pianist
Cedar Walton has appeared since the late Fifties, and you come away
wondering if the 65-year-old, Dallas-born jazzman has played so well
for so long that he's being taken for granted. After all, Walton
doesn't rely on pet licks or pyrotechnical display -- although he has
excellent technique; he invents all the time, and makes his always
imaginative work fit into the context of whatever he's playing. Sound,
solid, inspired. But in the spotlight?
Nevertheless, Walton is one of the most universally respected jazz
pianists active today, having played in the bands of Lou Donaldson,
Kenny Dorham, J.J. Johnson, Art Farmer, and Art Blakey, and recorded
with Freddie Hubbard, John Coltrane, and Joe Henderson. Since working
with enchantress Abbey Lincoln from 1965-66, Walton has also been much
in demand to accompany singers. And he's made numerous appearances as a
leader with bands including trumpeters Dorham and Blue Mitchell, tenor
saxophonists Hank Mobley, Clifford Jordan, and George Coleman, bassists
Ron Carter and Richard Davis, and drummers Billy Higgins and Jack
DeJohnette, among other luminaries.
As a player, Walton's a post-bopper whose solos can be pensive and
exciting -- often at the same time. In terms of consistency, lyricism,
and tastefulness, he recalls Hank Jones and Tommy Flanagan. Walton
always seems to know what's appropriate. In addition to his ability as
an instrumentalist, Walton has quietly amassed an impressive body of
original compositions, the Koch label having issued a CD full of them
earlier this year, You May Never Know, by vocalist Diane Witherspoon
with lyrics by John and Paula Hackett. For over six decades, Walton has
worked lovingly on his craft.
Like most musicians of his caliber, he started young, beginning to
noodle on the piano by the time he was six or seven. His mother taught
piano. "I started playing by ear," remembers Walton, "and my mother
said, "You better learn to read.'" Dutifully, he did. At Lincoln High
School, Walton began playing the clarinet in the marching band, which
was led by J.K. Miller, who had worked as a jazz trumpeter. When the
football season wasn't in full swing, the pianist recalls Miller
leading the students through the music of jazz giants such as Duke
Ellington, Dizzy Gillespie, and Count Basie. Later, as a teenager,
Walton took note of some of the great performers that came through
Dallas. "I used to see posters for Billy Eckstine appearances, and I
had an autograph collection that included Marian Anderson, Eckstine,
Duke Ellington, and Lena Horne," says Walton, who began playing
professionally while still enrolled in high school. "We were jazz
musicians, but we had to play a rhythm & blues style. I can
remember playing in a shuffle rhythm so people could dance."
Around this same time, Walton was also listening to live radio
performances by some of the major big bands and pianists Nat Cole, Art
Tatum, Austin-born Teddy Wilson, and Erroll Garner. Before long, he too
would be working with some fine musicians. "I played at a bar called
Pappy's Showland with baritone saxman Leroy Cooper, who was with Ray
Charles for so long. I worked a lot with Fathead Newman [also a Charles
mainstay]. Musically, he was a generation ahead of me." Asked about his
formative years in Dallas, and the fact that Ornette Coleman, Dewey
Redman, and Prince Lasha all came out of the Fort Worth scene, the name
Red Connor, a legendary tenorman who is supposed to have been a free
jazz player and to have influenced them, comes up. "I always thought of
Red as a Dallasite," affirms Walton. "He was a great sax player. I used
to hear him in the park jamming with Fathead and Ike Steen. In those
days, he sounded normal to me, though; he played bop."
This coincided with where Walton was musically, as he tried to
absorb the latest records by Charlie Parker and Dizzy Gillespie, citing
Art Tatum and Bud Powell as his primary influences in those days.
Following high school, young Walton attended Dillard College in New
Orleans for a year, where Ellis Marsalis was one of his classmates.
Soon after, he transferred to the University of Denver, where he began
to study composition seriously. While in Colorado, Walton met and
played with a number of jazz notables, including Bird, and it was this
that probably had something to do with the pianist's decision to move
to New York in 1955. From the start, Walton found living in the Big
Apple a heady experience. He performed everywhere, sitting in, making
rehearsals, and doing small club dates whenever he got the chance. It
didn't last long, though; that year, Walton was drafted.
Spending 1956-58 in the Army, Walton was stationed first at Fort
Dix, where he met tenor saxophonist Wayne Shorter, and later in
Germany. As a member of the Special Services, he was able to play with
several good jazzmen, including Eddie Harris, with whom the pianist
later recorded. In fact, Harris made his best albums with Walton, e.
g., The Tender Storm. Most notable of all, it was while in the service
that Walton had a chance to sit in with Duke Ellington's band. "As he
was leaving," recounts Walton, "Duke said, "Now you go easy on those
keys young man.' Then, after he came back, he said, "I thought I told
you to go easy on those keys.' It was his way of complimenting me."
After leaving the government's employ, Walton quickly
re-established himself in New York, working in the bands of Donaldson,
then Dorham. He made his first recorded appearance with Dorham on the
Riverside LP This Is the Moment, which features the date's leader
singing. The piano player didn't get much room to stretch out here, but
was thrilled anyway. After Dorham, Walton replaced a great pianist,
Tommy Flanagan, in J.J. Johnson's sextets. These were fine bands that
boasted Nat Adderley on cornet or Freddie Hubbard on trumpet, and Bobby
Jaspar or Clifford Jordan on tenor sax. Walton formed some solid
relations there with drummer Tootie Heath, the brother of Percy and
Jimmy Heath, and Jordan, and worked frequently with both in the future.
His performances on sextet LPs Really Livin' and J.J. Inc. offer the
first real chance to hear what Walton can do, and he does plenty. His
technique is impressive, his touch subtle, his articulation accurate.
He's never at a loss for ideas and always thoughtful. Regardless of how
fast the tempo is, he refuses to be rushed, pacing himself
intelligently and improvising melodically pretty and nicely resolved
lines.
His playing owes more to Bud Powell than anyone else here, and he
uses Red Garlandish voicings, but already, he has established his own
style. It's a mark of leader Johnson's approval that Walton is the
featured soloist on Red Cross. In addition to his soloing, Walton
proved himself a laudable accompanist who complements the other
musicians without getting in their way. As you might think, Johnson
impressed Walton as well. Not only was he the premier jazz trombonist
at the time, Johnson was also a very gifted composer/arranger, who was
able to make his sextet sound like a much larger band.
On March 26, 1959, shortly after cutting his first session with
Johnson, Walton appeared on a John Coltrane Atlantic session during
which the first versions of "Giant Steps," "Naima," and "Like Sunny"
were recorded. Unfortunately, they were not the first versions to be
released. They finally saw the light of day in 1976, by which time the
public had come to associate "Giant Steps" with Tommy Flanagan, who had
recorded it with Trane six weeks after Walton. The pianist solos with
Coltrane only on "Like Sunny," turning in a lovely spot.
As Flanagan had been a tough act to follow with Johnson, Walton
then succeeded another great pianist, McCoy Tyner, with the Jazztet.
Another one of Johnson's splendid sextets, this one featured trumpeter
Farmer, tenor saxman Golson, and trombonist Curtis Fuller, who was
later replaced by Tom McIntosh. Not only was the band loaded with
excellent soloists, it had one of the great jazz composer/arrangers in
Golson, and showcased his charts to the point that Walton called his
tenure with the band "a lesson in reading." Nevertheless, he hastens to
praise Golson for writing well for piano.
It was Walton's next job, however, that brought the pianist to the
attention of the jazz public like nothing had previously: a stint with
Art Blakey & the Jazz Messengers. This may have been Blakey's best
band, featuring, in addition to Walton, a front line containing
Hubbard, Shorter, and Fuller. Walton calls his situation with Blakey
the ultimate experience. "It was exactly the opposite of the Jazztet in
that Art encouraged everyone to write, to contribute
originals,"explains Walton. "As soon as we got six or seven new tunes
together, we'd go into the studio and record. The encouragement in that
band was contagious. Art had a keen sense of spotting talent, sometimes
before it developed. I flowered and developed my ability to accompany
with him. Art played with great power, but left little holes for the
pianist. "
Walton played with Blakey from 1961-64, and took advantage of the
freedom to compose that Blakey gave him. Two of his compositions became
title tunes for Blakey LPs, Mosaic and Ugetsu. He also wrote the title
tune for Joe Henderson's Mode for Joe. While not necessarily becoming a
better soloist with Blakey -- his playing in the late Fifties being
quite strong -- Walton did evolve into a more confident and aggressive
performer. In 1965-66, he began backing Abbey Lincoln, who, at the
time, was married to jazz drummer extraordinaire Max Roach. "That was a
good experience," affirms Walton, "because Max was so knowledgeable
about accompanying. He said to keep on playing the way I was playing,
not to do anything different."
Since 1966, Walton has been a leader or freelancer. In 1967 and
1968, he made a couple of fine LPs for Prestige: Cedar, on which Dorham
and tenor saxophonist Junior Cook appear, and Spectrum, with Blue
Mitchell and Jordan. By this time, Walton's style had become earthier,
bluesier, at least partly due to the influence Wynton Kelly had on him.
His composition "Higgins Holler" has such an obvious gospel quality
that it could've been written by Horace Silver. "Jakes Milkshakes" is
another Silver-like tune. The 6/8 "Spectrum" indicates that the pianist
was broadening his horizons, as he plays both with and against the
rhythm. On the subject of broadened horizons, the title track of
Electric Boogaloo features Walton playing electric piano. This decision
was made by the LP's producer to cash in on the popularity of the
electric piano as played by Joe Zawinul, Herbie Hancock, and Chick
Corea, but Walton took it in stride. "It was suggested by the producer,
but I agreed to it," comments Walton. "It wasn't any big deal." Walton
plays the instrument his own way, giving it an organ-like quality. He
used the electric piano on other sessions as well, but eventually came
back to the acoustic instrument, which he seems to prefer. Electric
Boogaloo also contains Walton's "Sabbatical," a pretty, melancholy tune
stated by flute and trumpet, and an elegant trio version of "Ugetsu."
During the Seventies, Walton cut several fine albums: Eastern
Rebellion, featuring George Coleman; A Night at Boomer's, volumes one
and two with Jordan; and Breakthrough with Mobley. It was during this
decade, that Walton finally started receiving the recognition he
deserved as a master, continuing to gain respect during the Eighties
and Nineties. He and drummer Billy Higgins have had a long and fruitful
relationship, and together with bassist Ron Carter, can be heard in
fine form live at Sweet Basil on two Evidence releases, My Funny
Valentine and St. Thomas.
In 1996 and 1997, the Astor Place label released two CDs on which
all the compositions are by Walton, the pianist arranging them for
groups including horns. Composer contains all new compositions by him
done by a sextet including trumpeter Roy Hargrove, altoman Vincent
Herring, and tenor and soprano man Ralph Moore. Walton's writing is at
least as good as ever. "Martha's Prize" is a lovely, gentle theme with
a resemblance to "When Lights Are Low"; note how vamps are used
effectively on this tune and "The Vision" to build tension. On
"Happiness," the theme is tossed back and forth between instruments,
while on the undulating rhythm of "Minor Controversy" keeps it lively.
"Underground Memoirs" has a dignified but graceful quality, and as one
might infer from its title, "Theme for Jobim" is a bossa nova. "Groove
Passage" has an infectious, funky Latin quality that is reminiscent of
Silver's writing.
Walton's second album for Astor Place, Roots, released earlier this
year, is considered by the pianist to be his finest ("all the rest are
my second favorite," he jokes). It contains versions of some of his
best pieces, including "Mode for Joe," "Bolivia," and "Ojos de Rojo,"
played by a trio of Walton, Carter, and Nash, with guest soloists
trumpeter Terence Blanchard, tenor saxman Joshua Redman, and guitarist
Mark Whitfield, and an added ensemble of five hornmen and percussionist
Ray Mantilla.
It's easy to understand why Walton digs Roots so much. His own
solos are impeccable -- really wonderful -- on par with what he did on
Composer. He's utterly relaxed and avoids cliches like the plague.
There's a beautiful purity to his playing; it's music boiled down to
its essence. Walton's charts also deserve great praise; he puts on a
clinic in this area. Walton remarked to me that he'd been interested in
arranging as a youngster and did it by trial and error. Over the years,
however, he learned from men like Ellington, Johnson, and Golson, and
on both Composer and Roots, he's developed his own distinctive
arranging style. His warm, airy charts and the way he contrasts and
alternates his piano with the horns is at once unique and accessible.
In his mid-60s, Walton continues to grow as a musician; recently,
he's written string charts for a to-be-released Hargrove album. Over
the years, he's never stopped searching and learning, and whenever he's
had the opportunity, he's put his knowledge to excellent use. He could
rest on his laurels, but then he probably wouldn't be visiting Austin
to educate old and new fans alike on the career of one of jazz's
premier players. After all, in jazz, there's no such thing as too much
exposure. There is only rightly due, and Cedar Walton has lots coming.
November 1, 1999