The Very Big Carla Bley Band

Lew Soloff, Guy Barker, Claude Deppa, Steven Bernstein trumpets
Gary Valente, Richard Edwards, Fayyaz Virji trombones
Ashley Slater bass trombone
Roger Jannotta oboe, flute, clarinet, soprano saxophone
Wolfgang Puschnig alto saxophone, flute
Andy Sheppard tenor and soprano saxophones
Pete Hurt tenor saxophone, clarinet
Pablo Calogero baritone saxophone
Steve Swallow bass
Carla Bley piano
Karen Mantler organ
Victor Lewis drums
Don Alias percussion
Recorded October 29/30, 1990 at Bauer Studios, Ludwigsburg, Germany
Engineer: Carlos Albrecht
Mixed at Grog Kill Studio, Willow, New York
Engineer: Tom Mark
Mastered by Greg Calbi at Sterling Sound, New York
General co-ordination: Michael Mantler
Produced by Carla Bley and Steve Swallow
Release date: April 1, 1991

If the explosion of sentiment that embraced Carla Bley in the mid-1980s led to a soul-defining period, then let this 18-piece extravaganza be the backdraft that pulled her into a wider angle. Despite boasting trumpeter Lew Soloff, trombonist Gary Valente, and saxophonists Wolfgang Puschnig and Andy Sheppard as frontline soloists, it’s not the most groundbreaking of sessions, but a respectable enough jewel in the Bley crown.

Right off the bat, “United States” shows us just how much Bley’s sense of humor has grown. From the splashing cymbals of Victor Lewis to the anthemic inflections of bassist Steve Swallow, there’s much to admire in this ensemble’s knack for unpacking a giant suitcase and leaving it the way they found it by the time they’re through. The initial feeling is one of almost sardonic pleasure, but as the soloing becomes more forthright, we find that honesty is indeed the best policy. The proverbial soapbox serves as a stage for Soloff’s biting cynicism, Valente’s political edge, Puschnig’s street smarts, and Sheppard’s down-home wisdom.

“Strange Arrangement” dons the set’s cheekiest title, as the arrangement is rather tame compared to her earlier work. The primary focus here (as throughout), however, is on her fabulous horn section. Whether opening with their bouquet in “All Fall Down” or tooling the binding of “Lo Ultimo,” they add flavor upon flavor without reserve. The latter’s baritone spotlight, courtesy of Pablo Calogero, is one of many elements that make the tune an album standout, even if we must drag our ears a bit to get there. Like the bluesier “Who Will Rescue You?” it slides into home by the skin of its teeth.

Though not as multidimensional as what came before, the feeling is sincere, the compositions solid, and the performances top-notch. This album is also notable for being recorded in Tonstudio Bauer in Ludwigsburg, Germany, where many classic ECM albums were also laid down. The sound is consequently impeccable. Nothing dominates. Given that the influence of Mingus lives large in Bley’s arrangements, we might do best to read this session as a snapshot of a mood expertly crafted for posterity.

Carla Bley
Fleur Carnivore

Lew Soloff, Jens Winther trumpets
Frank Lacy French horn, flugelhorn
Gary Valente trombone
Bob Stewart tuba
Daniel Beaussier oboe, flute
Wolfgang Puschnig, Andy Sheppard, Christof Lauer, Roberto Ottini saxophones
Karen Mantler harmonica, organ, vibes, chimes
Carla Bley piano
Steve Swallow bass
Buddy Williams drums
Don Alias percussion
Recorded live, November 14-16, 1988 at the Montmartre, Copenhagen, Denmark
Remote recording by Sweet Silence Studios
Engineer: Flemming Rasmussen
Assistant: Lau Hansen
Live recording supervision: Michael Mantler
Concert sound: Paul Sparrow
Assistant: John Kenton
Mixed at Grog Kill Studio, Willow, New York
Engineer: Tom Mark
Mastered by Greg Calbi at Sterling Sound, New York
General co-ordination: Michael Mantler
Produced by Carla Bley and Steve Swallow
Release date: October 1, 1989

After the confidential overloads of Night-Glo and subsequent sessions, Carla Bley returns with a 15-piece band in this rich live recording from 1988 made in Copenhagen. The title track, a hat tip to Duke Ellington, is a gradual blush of ornamented sensuality and introduces yet more enduring talents to the Bley nexus in trumpeter Lew Soloff and saxophonists Wolfgang Puschnig and Andy Sheppard. Soloff and Puschnig are handed the first major solos of the set, turning night into day as the band goes from a crawl to a swing. The performance is solid, comfortable, and sumptuous.

Though much of what follows is a retread of what came before, the field in which it is planted is freshly tilled before contact. This includes “Ups And Downs” (reprised from Duets and notable for Frank Lacy’s fluegelhorn in dialogue with the reed of Christof Lauer) and the tripartite “The Girl Who Cried Champagne.” The latter will be familiar to devotees of Sextet and is a worthy showcase for each soloist. There’s even a poetic harmonica solo courtesy of Karen Mantler—the traveler’s daughter, ever traveling herself. All of this thirsts for the final tincture of “Healing Power” (another Sextet holdover). Gospel-tinged and deepened by sermons from trombonist Gary Valente (upward) and Swallow (downward), it’s doctrinal without being pretentious and is a fitting end to an unbreakable set that shows Bley capable of anything, and better than most.

The one standalone classic here is “Song Of The Eternal Waiting Of Canute.” Between its far south-of-the-border vibe, enhanced by bird calls and other natural details, and full moon of brass, the piece cycles back and forth between real-time exposition and jungle fantasy. Thankfully, Bley and her band wield their instruments like machetes, ready to cut through tangle that might get in their way.

Carla Bley
Sextet

Carla Bley organ
Hiram Bullock guitar
Larry Willis piano
Steve Swallow bass
Victor Lewis drums
Don Alias percussion
Recorded and mixed December 1986 and January 1987 by Doug Epstein at Grog Kill Studio, Willow, New York
Mastered by Greg Calbi at Sterling Sound
Produced by Carla Bley and Steve Swallow
Release date: March 1, 1987

Still steaming from the Night-Glo session that preceded it, Bley might be forgiven for the double entendre of the nearly-as-sensual Sextet. Here she joins forces with new love Steve Swallow in a band of extended family that includes Hiram Bullock on guitar, Larry Willis on piano, Victor Lewis on drums, and Don Alias on percussion. Swallow and Bley are the focal point, essentially a duo whose not-so-hidden thoughts are spun outward by the other musicians.

“More Brahms” opens with smooth stylings all around. The soloing is choice, and Willis’s 98.6-degree comping adds to the brink-of-twilight vibe. Bullock counters with the slow rock infusions of “Houses And People,” for which the rhythm section changes gears as vines and waterfalls go by in a pleasant blur toward a sparkling ending. In “The Girl Who Cried Champagne,” among the bandleader’s most memorable compositions, Willis shuttles a Latin loom as Bley’s organ limns the horizon with pale fire beneath Bullock’s liquid metal sky. From the tropical to the urban, the scenery undergoes a dramatic costume change in “Brooklyn Bridge.” Riding a wave of progressive density, Alias’s detailing accents the passage of time in a tune that might otherwise seem timeless. By the time we run our fingers across the carefully manicured “Lawns,” we find ourselves knee-deep in hope. Every note of Swallow’s lyrical solo plucks a weed from our path. All of which fortifies the final “Healing Power,” a gut punch of love that hits us where it counts.

Without an ounce of the vibrant and ear-changing challenges posed by so many of her previous recordings, this one nevertheless charms with a breeziness that could only be born of the confident left turns taken to get to this two-lane highway.

Carla Bley
with Steve Swallow
Night-Glo

Steve Swallow bass
Carla Bley organ, synthesizers
Larry Willis piano, electric piano
Hiram Bullock guitar
Victor Lewis drums
Manolo Badrena percussion
Paul McCandless oboe, English horn, soprano, tenor, and baritone saxophones, bass clarinet
Randy Brecker trumpet, flugelhorn
John Clark French horn
Tom Malone trombone
David Taylor bass trombone
Recorded and mixed June through August 1985 by Tom Mark at Grog Kill Studio, Willow, New York
Produced by Carla Bley and Steve Swallow
Release date: November 1, 1985

If Carla Bley’s biography were a movie, then Night-Glo would be the love scene. Indeed, around the time this album was being recorded, she and bassist Steve Swallow had elevated their relationship from that of musical to life partners. Their newfound romance, translated here in the studio, might even come across as voyeuristic were it not for the tasteful and sincere way in which it is presented, as warm to the touch as ever.

The arrangement of opener “Pretend You’re In Love” tells us we’re in for an experience so 80s-luscious, so adoringly crafted, we almost expect to hear an R&B singer sauntering into frame. Adding an air of mystery to this candlelit reverie is the unmistakable English horn of Paul McCandless, one of a few adroit inclusions in the band’s roster, along with trumpeter Randy Brecker, percussionist Manolo Badrena, and pianist Larry Willis. The title track is a plush vehicle for Swallow’s bassing, which, luxuriating in the sound of horns (as if from the traffic they’ve stopped), stretches its body to fullest length. Brecker’s trumpet is an ecstatic voice in this fleshy symphony, while Bley’s piano buries the heartache of a past that already feels distant. The guitar of Hiram Bullock echoes in “Rut,” as if manifesting the anticipation of a physical contact that hovers just beyond the reach of consummation. Swallow links a chain of poetic verses from start to finish, drawing an artful segue into “Crazy With You.” Bley’s hot-n’-heavy organ taps a controlled fire into fadeout.

Bley ends with one of her finest suites, the three-part “Wildlife.” It begins with “Horn,” moves into the smoother contours “Paws Without Claws,” and ends on the delicate high note of “Sex With Birds.” An overwhelming sense of transition, of progression from solitude to companionship, prevails. This is humanity at its most beautiful, the resonance that binds and makes us whole.

Maybe it’s just me reading too deeply into things, but I find it significant that the band employed to bring all of this to life should consist of 11 members, for the number itself—“1” on “1”—is the perfect illustration of emotional synthesis. Coincidence? You be the judge. In the meantime, if you want to know what the heart sounds like when reborn, just press PLAY and close your eyes.

Carla Bley
Heavy Heart

Carla Bley organ, synthesizer
Steve Slagle flute, alto and baritone saxophones
Hiram Bullock guitar
Gary Valente trombone
Kenny Kirkland piano
Steve Swallow bass
Victor Lewis drums
Manolo Badrena percussion
Additional Horns:
Michael Mantler trumpet
Earl McIntyre tuba
Recorded September and October 1983 by Tom Mark at Grog Kill Studio, Willow, New York
Mixed November 1983 by Nick Griffiths at Britannia Row Studios, London
Engineer: Tom Mark
Produced by Carla Bley and Michael Mantler
Release date: March 1, 1984

The next phase of Carla Bley’s ten-piece stomp through the space-time continuum ushers us into the chambers of her Heavy Heart. Whether navigating the turns of “Light Or Dark” or making a “Joyful Noise,” Bley and her band prove that life is only as full as one’s ability to roll with the punches. Drenched in sunlight, these musicians converse more like family than friends. Saxophonist Steve Slagle (also on flute) is a foregrounded presence on both tunes, in which Bley displays her formidable ability to speak through melody. The addition of pianist Kenny Kirkland is a genius move, and he paints the canvases at hand with both knife and brush. Guitarist Hiram Bullock, too, lends fresh color to the Bley palette while the bandleader herself applies a topcoat of synthesizer. With this much scenery to enjoy, far removed from the bustle of everyday life, we can come out of the experience having traveled in the most literal way.

“Talking Hearts” is another close-up on Bullock, who pulls on starlight like a thread and uses it to stitch memories together before their narrative falls apart. Bley’s synth comes across as the voice of a childhood refusing to fade, reveling instead in its own retro-ness in an increasingly modern world. This warm and fuzzy feeling revives itself in “Starting Again,” wherein Kirkland’s crosstalk with the rhythm section, resolute against hot-blooded horns, builds to prominence, but not before the total eclipse of “Ending It” shields the glare of Gary Valente’s trombone. The effect is such that when the time comes for the title track to bid us farewell, Bley cannot resist turning back, freeze-framing on what could have been. Remember that face, for the next time we see it, she will be gushing with that sense of renewal only love can bring, on the way to rewriting her script once more.

The Carla Bley Band
I Hate To Sing

Michael Mantler trumpet
Steve Slagle alto and soprano saxophones (voice on “The Lone Arranger”)
Tony Dagradi tenor saxophone
Gary Valente trombone (voice on “The Lone Arranger”)
Vincent Chancey French horn
Earl McIntyre tuba (on 1 only; bass trombone and background voice in “Murder”)
Bob Stewart tuba (on 2 only)
Carla Bley organ, glockenspiel (piano on “Very Very Simple” and voice on “The Lone Arranger”)
Arturo O’Farrill piano (voice and organ on “Very Very Simple”)
Steve Swallow bass (voice on “The Lone Arranger” and drums on “I Hate To Sing”)
D. Sharpe drums (voice on “I Hate To Sing”)
Side 1 recorded live August 19-21, 1981 at The Great American Music Hall, San Francisco, California
Mixed December 1981 at Grog Kill Studio, Willow, New York
Side 2 recorded live January 11-13, 1983 at Grog Kill Studio
Mixed 1984, Willow, New York
Engineer: Tom Mark
Produced by Carla Bley

Until this point, Carla Bley has been known to throw in a shot of wry humor into almost every cocktail she mixes. But it’s not until I Hate To Sing that she fashions her live persona into that of a standup comedian. The limited vinyl release from 1984 (reissued on CD in 1996) exhibits some of the bandleader’s slyest compositions via her ability to craft an entire world out of notes and materials.

Despite the talented instrumentarium she has assembled this time around, including such constant companions as trumpeter Michael Mantler, trombonist Gary Valente, bassist Steve Swallow, and drummer D. Sharpe, Bley’s focus is on the very thing the album’s title professes to hate. Such a setup in any other hands might come across as dated, but there’s something undeniably apposite about her songcraft. In “The Internationale,” for example, we find ourselves people watching in the selfsame hotel’s lobby as itinerant travelers from all over the world struggle to understand each other in an ivory Tower of Babel. Its refrain of “What did he say?” feels all too prescient in a politically divided world such as ours. Further highpoints of lowbrow include “Very Very Simple,” in which pianist Arturo O’Farrill sings about the rudimentary song Bley has graciously allowed. Its self-deprecating air would not be out of place on a vaudeville stage. A comically unremarkable drum solo seals the deal. “Murder” is also memorable for its tongue-in-cheek twist on stalking. Background vocals by tuba player Earl McIntyre, assuming the role of impending doom, are spot-on and rile the audience in this live recording to bubbling laughter.

A few non-vocal passages sprinkled in for good measure remind us who we’re dealing with. “The Piano Lesson” is a chain of unsuccessful piano runs, held together by spurts of competence from the whole band; “The Lone Arranger” (one of my favorite Bley titles) is a gentle romp; and “Battleship” threads an SOS signal and explosions through a vivid free-for-all tapestry.

The end effect, as overtly comedic as it is covertly philosophical, is a master class in social commentary. Still, it is sure to polarize listeners. And while it may not share a spotlight with some of Bley’s more recognized albums, it’s a historical jewel and one of the few successful amalgamations of jazz and comedy that I’ve ever heard (for comparison, click here to read my take on Jon Benjamin’s Well I Should Have…). This is nowhere truer than in the title track, in which Swallow takes over on drums to allow Sharpe the microphone, thus adding some uproarious touches to Bley’s swing. A noteworthy moment occurs when the music stops and Sharpe says, “Can I have something to drink please?” And again: “I need a more professional group to back me up when I sing. Get some West Coast cats.” Even at her most audacious, Bley proves the value of balance. In this instance, every element knows its place.

The Carla Bley Band
Live!

Michael Mantler trumpet
Steve Slagle alto and soprano saxophones, flute
Tony Dagradi tenor saxophone
Gary Valente trombone
Vincent Chancey French horn
Earl McIntyre tuba, bass trombone (solo on “Blunt Object)
Carla Bley organ, glockenspiel, piano (on “Time And Us”)
Arturo O’Farrill piano, organ (on “Time And Us” only)
Steve Swallow bass
D. Sharpe drums
Recorded August 19-21, 1981 at the Great American Music Hall, San Francisco, California by Phil Edwards
Recording/Engineer: Ron Davis
Mixed December 1981 at Grog Kill Studio, Willow, New York
Engineer: Tom Mark
Produced by Carla Bley
Release date: April 1, 1982

Carla Bley’s phenomenal ten-tet returns on Live! And with it, the assurance that the next stage in our trek through the WATT catalog has laid a fruitful path before us. Sporting one of her most iconic album covers, infamous red sweater and all, this collection, recorded in August 1981 at San Francisco’s Great American Music Hall, is a fascination that keeps on giving. One can feel Bley moving (in the most physical sense) into every tune, letting it speak for itself.

What I love about this album is its self-aware presentation, sheer variety, and musical derring-do. To be sure, there’s plenty of smooth surfaces on which to walk. Whether we’re talking about the classic vibe of “Time And Us” (though one can hardly discount the slight edginess of Tony Dagradi’s tenor) or Steve Swallow’s dedicated bass line in “Song Sung Long” (noteworthy also for the soprano saxophone of new recruit Steve Slagle), a feeling of living in the moment prevails, as also in the domestic romance of “Still In The Room.” But chances are meant to be taken, and that Bley does through her application of Latin flavors in “Real Life Hits” and full-on gospel attempt in “The Lord Is Listenin’ To Ya, Hallelujah!” With her low and slow approach to the organ, Bley wraps us in a blanket of worship, at once soothing and energizing.

But for me it’s opener “Blunt Object” that plows the deepest field. From Swallow’s ear-catching intro to its driven sense of drama, it recalls for me the Maria Schneider arrangement of David Bowie’s “Sue,” a sister energy of which is pushed out like sunshine through Dagradi’s tenor.

Recorded as if we were right there on stage, Live! invites us to be a part of the action. Little do we know this was barely half the fun that awaits us in the next album.