365 Days of Song Recommendations: Feb 8
The Drum Thunder Suite — Art Blakey and the Jazz Messengers
Miles Davis. John Coltrane. Charles Mingus. If you’re a fan of Jazz — specifically the hard bop varietal — chances are one of these titans provided that gateway drug. Raise your hand if you had a Kind of Blue poster on the wall of your freshman dorm. Raise the other hand if you had a poster of Miles/Coltrane/Mingus and didn’t even listen to Jazz when you bought that poster during the campus poster sale. (It’s okay. This is a safe space.)
My personal gateway drug wasn’t Miles or Mingus — it was Art Blakey.
I had just started my love affair with Jazz during my senior year of high school. Struggling to find new things to do with our misspent weekends, my friend Chris and I ventured to a “lounge” to listen to Jazz on Friday nights. Looking back, the music at this suburban hole in the North Hills of Pittsburgh was better than it had any right to be, but it also probably wasn’t very good. It’s all about expectation. We went because of the music. We went because of the cute waitress named Allison. Probably a 50/50 split.
Drummer Art Blakey, born in Pittsburgh in 1911, remains one of the city’s favorite sons. Celebrated widely as the figurehead of Pittsburgh’s vibrant Jazz scene of the 30’s, 40’s and 50’s that featured names like Ahmad Jamal, Billy Eckstein, Billy Strayhorn, Ray Brown, Kenny Clark… it’s enough to make you weep that so many in this town don’t give a damn about its Jazz legacy. (They’ll be able to tell you who played left guard on the 1973 Steelers though.)
Art Blakey and the Jazz Messengers’ Moanin’ became one of the first Jazz records I purchased. It’s a great record. An essential Jazz record by any critical barometer. With bandleader Blakey on drums, the Jazz Messengers featured Lee Morgan on trumpet, Benny Golson on tenor sax, Bobby Timmons (one of the most underappreciated voices during this period of innovation) on piano, and Jymie Merritt on bass. Arguably the greatest assemblage of complementary talent that Art Blakey ever put together under the Jazz Messenger umbrella (acceptable counterpoint: 1960’s The Big Beat). You can hear the energy of these musicians firing off each other like a ping pong ball.
Just watch this magic happen:
While I love that opening, title track on Moanin’ — Timmons’ piano line often serves as the hold music in my head whenever I’m idling — it’s “The Drum Thunder Suite” that best showcases Blakey’s stubborn refusal to be overshadowed. Blakey wasn’t content to command something as trivial as mere cadence; he used his instrument like a whip. When it came time for his improvisational talents to come to the foreground (it’s been said that he never let an opportunity for a drum solo pass unassailed) he wouldn’t break rhythm, he’d amplify it, playfully assault it, before bringing it back down, somewhere near sea level.
“The Drum Thunder Suite” might just be the greatest showcase of his various styles. When Blakey finally cedes the floor, Morgan and Timmons go bigger. Blakey responds. The second movement falls back. It’s more melodic, controlled, boiling back up in a simmer. The third movement brings it all together. Morgan fires off a solo at the 6-minute mark that once again ignites Blakey. Timmons steps in — whoa there, big fella. Morgan once more. But it’s Blakey, as usual, with the last word — his sudden climactic flurry provides the final punctuation.
He’s the greatest drummer that ever lived. Challengers accepted.
Check out every song that’s been recommended so far for the 2021 #365Songs project!
