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7. Maintaining the Groove
- Temple University Press
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7 Maintaining the Groove B y late 1963 into 1964, things started to get rough. Riverside was in bad shape as a company. According to the liner notes, my last Riverside album, On the Trail, which was recorded in the spring of 1964, featured Paul Chambers, Tootie, Kenny Burrell, and Wynton Kelly. This was the first time I recorded “Gingerbread Boy” and two of my other originals, “Cloak and Dagger” and “Project S.” Since the company was in trouble, it released this recording later. The title “Gingerbread Boy” comes from a chance meeting with Jimmy Oliver, the legendary tenor saxophonist. We were still in Philly when Mona was pregnant with our son Jeffrey. On one summer day, we were walking to the Showboat on Broad Street when we bumped into Jimmy. When he noticed that Mona was pregnant, he said, “A little gingerbread boy.” This was a reference to Jeffrey’s being the product of an interracial relationship. So I wrote a tune and called it “Gingerbread Boy.” Jeffrey was born September 28, 1963. For on On the Trail I also recorded a popular song by Bernard Bierman called “Vanity.” Much later, in a 2004 e-mail I received from vocalist Michelle Pirret, I read Bierman’s reaction to my recording of his composition: I was taken aback when I heard Jimmy Heath’s recording of “Vanity” for the first time. Although I had written it in 1955, I didn’t recall ever hearing an instrumentalist’s rendition. Working as a staff writer for Shapiro/Bernstein, I was most familiar with the pop recordings Maintaining the Groove | 127 made by vocalists namely Sarah Vaughan and my favorite version sung by Hadda Brooks. Upon listening to Mr. Heath, I was pleasantly surprised. It is an amazing performance that demonstrates how a straight pop ballad can lend itself to a jazz conception. What is most impressive, aside from his tone and inventive improvisational lines, is that the rendition is kept within the framework of the original melody. I appreciated that the melody could still be completely understood. That was wonderful to behold. To this 95-year-old geriatrician , you are still a “kid” with all the opportunity to continue with your beautiful playing. I hope to have the pleasure of meeting [you] before this nonagenarian passes from this world. The records I made with Donald Byrd for Blue Note in 1963 weren’t released then because of problems between Donald and Al Lion. That year I had been working at Birdland with Donald, who had a sextet with Sonny Red, alto; Spanky DeBrest, bass; Tootie, drums; and me on tenor. On piano was a relatively new artist in town, Herbie Hancock. At that time, Herbie was being wooed by Miles. Donald and Herbie were schoolboys who were constantly searching and experimenting with harmony and sequences. Because I had been around during the bebop days, I could see that their experimentation was a continuation of that era. Donald had written “Fly Byrd Fly,” and Herbie was reharmonizing tunes like “Secret Love.” Sonny Red and I were also contributing music. Herbie had recorded “Watermelon Man” in 1962, which became a hit; Mongo Santamaria’s version of that song made a lot of money for Herbie. A lot of jazz musicians like Miles and Freddie Hubbard were into sports cars at this time. Donald had a Jaguar XKE, a black fastback, and Herbie bought the newest thing out, a Ford AC Cobra. When I went with Herbie to the dealer, I asked the salesman if the Cobra was too fast for a first-car buyer. The salesman said, “If he has the money, I’m going to sell it to him.” The Cobra had a big Ford Fairlane engine in a little AC Bristol sports car body. It was super fast. We frequently went to the racetracks, and we also kept up with racing car stats. The Corvette could go zero to sixty in thirteen seconds, but the Cobra could do it in ten or eleven seconds, and it had a loud exhaust system. Herbie eventually wrote a song called “King Cobra.” In the summer of 1963, Miles was working down at the Village Vanguard in New York, and Herbie, who was gigging with Donald Byrd and me at 128 | second Chorus (1949–1969) Birdland at Fifty-second and Broadway, would get in his fast Cobra and drive down to the Vanguard while we were on break. Herbie got a speeding ticket practically every night...