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.

Carla Bley
Social Studies

Michael Mantler trumpet
Carlos Ward soprano and alto saxophones
Tony Dagradi tenor saxophone, clarinet
Gary Valente trombone
Joe Daley euphonium
Earl McIntyre tuba
Carla Bley organ, piano
Steve Swallow bass
D. Sharpe drums
Recorded September through December 1980
Mixed January 1981 at Grog Kill Studio, Willow, New York
Engineer: Tom Mark
Produced by Carla Bley
Release date: April 1, 1981

After leaving the matinee showing of Michael Mantler’s More Movies, there’s no better place to go than the library to check out Carla Bley’s Social Studies. Though distinguished by many features, this 1981 session is the timeless embodiment of what a classic should be. Not only is every tune a staple of her repertoire; it also introduces yet another talented reed player to the Bley family in Tony Dagradi, whose clarinet lends nostalgic warmth to the flirtatious “Copyright Royalties” and whose hickory tenor gives defining flavor to “Útviklingssang.” The latter, one of Bley’s highest compositional peaks, plays further to the strengths of fellow saxophonist Carlos Ward and bassist Steve Swallow. It floats, slumbers, and moves in sequence with time itself. It is the speed of life, personified in melody.

Flip to any page of this set, and you’ll find something as emblematic as a sigil, watermark, or ring seal pressed into wax. “Reactionary Tango” is as social as any of these studies. The horns are precise and delicate (especially Ward’s soprano), as is the snare of drummer D. Sharpe and Swallow’s exquisite bassing. Just when you think it ends, it continues with gentle persistence, as if it were a chapter in a Choose Your Own Adventure book. “Valse Sinistre” balances the groove of Bley’s organ with Swallow’s propulsive (but never overbearing) bassing. Swallow also picks up the first needle of “Floater” and threads his way with confidence. In lockstep with Sharpe at every turn, he exhibits a rainbow of colors. Finally, in “Walking Batteriewoman” we get the most vital of footnotes. Its shaded whimsy shifts into high gear halfway through, finishing in artful post-bop wisdom.

Of all the albums in the Bley catalog, this one is for me the most cohesive in terms of concept, aesthetic, and execution. Social Studies is more than a catchy title, but the very ethos of everything she lays her hands to.

The Carla Bley Band
Musique Mecanique

Michael Mantler trumpet
Alan Braufman alto saxophone, clarinet, flute
Gary Windo tenor saxophone, bass clarinet
John Clark French horn
Roswell Rudd trombone, vocals
Bob Stewart tuba
Terry Adams piano
Carla Bley organ
Steve Swallow bass guitar
D. Sharpe drums
Charlie Haden acoustic bass
Eugene Chadbourne acoustic and electric guitars
Karen Mantler glockenspiel
Recorded August through November and mixed December 1978 at Grog Kill Studio, Willow, New York
Engineer: Michael Mantler
Produced by Carla Bley
Release date: April 1, 1979

Hot on the heels of European Tour 1977, Musique Mecanique follows a classic with a classic. Clearly fueled by the energy put forth in that predecessor, Carla Bley funneled a wealth of inspiration from being on the road into her New York studio. Expanding her ten-tet to a 13-piece band, she drops some of her densest compositions to date in an audio time capsule for the ages.

The title of “440” references the modern orchestral pitch standard of A440. Appropriately, the piece begins with the cacophony of a tuning orchestra. From this emerges an insistent pulse and, by extension, a three-dimensional theme. Drummer D. Sharpe signs in as a new team member, and he will prove to be a vital one as the years wear on. Pianist Terry Adams embodies his duties to the fullest, as does Gary Windo on tenor and Alan Braufman on alto, while Bley embraces them all with the expansive wingspan of her organ in trombonist Roswell Rudd’s jet stream.

“Jesus Maria And Other Spanish Strains” is an even more horn-centric gallery of images. Though initially occupying the darker end of a synesthetic spectrum, before long it sports choice solos from tuba virtuoso Bob Stewart and bassist Charlie Haden, who clearly understands Bley’s music from the inside out. As things develop, those robustly whimsical touches we come to expect from Bley creep out of frame, held together by Sharpe’s gorgeous detailing and trumpeter Michael Mantler’s mariachi marinade before ending with a nocturnal stare.

The three-part title suite is one of Bley’s grandest achievements. The first part, sounding for all like a calliope machine struggling to come out of a coma, features Karen Mantler on glockenspiel for a decidedly three-ring vibe. The second part, subtitled “At Midnight,” begins with a clock ticking and chiming the hour. Bley enhances the mood. Rudd puts down the trombone and sings of two souls lost in the night, each opening the door to the room of the other in an endless cycle of unrequited action. The final part is a splash of genius in an already prodigious cocktail. Glacial organ, screeching saxophone, and an earworm of a melody draw us a treasure map to keep in our rucksacks for future outings.

The Carla Bley Band
European Tour 1977

Michael Mantler trumpet
Elton Dean alto saxophone
Gary Windo tenor saxophone
John Clark French horn, guitar
Roswell Rudd trombone
Bob Stewart tuba
Terry Adams piano
Carla Bley organ, tenor saxophone
Hugh Hopper bass guitar (bass drum on “Drinking Music”)
Andrew Cyrille drums
Recorded September 1977 at Bavaria Musik Studios, Munich
Engineer: Jörg Scheuermann
Assistant: Robert Wedel
Mixed October 1977 at Grog Kill Studio, Willow, New York
Engineer: Michael Mantler
Produced by Carla Bley
Release date: February 1, 1978

European Tour 1977 documents that very event—a significant one in the life of the Carla Bley Band, debuting like a boulder thrown into the ocean of the late 1970s. As per her last project, Dinner Music, Bley takes the opportunity to introduce a perennial tune of the WATT universe. “Wrong Key Donkey” is a wry congregation of dissonant horns, bass guitar (Hugh Hopper this time, with no Swallow in sight), drums (the one and only Andrew Cyrille), piano (Bley), and guitar (John Clark). It’s also the first appearance of tenor saxophonist Gary Windo on the recorded Bley roster, and his presence serves to emphasize a playfulness that invites the listener to be a cocreator rather than a mere spectator. If it takes two to tango, then it takes a legion to donkey.

Before that we are laid to premature rest in the plush coffin of “Rose And Sad Song.” Or so we might think, as the mournful combination of piano and trumpet (courtesy of Michael Mantler) that ushers us into the album proper lays the groundwork for a downtown groove from the rhythm section. With such vivid colors to paint with, deepest among them being Roswell Rudd’s trombone, this canvas of spirits glows the night away with almost religious faith in the music at hand.

The title of “Drinking Music” would seem to be an overt nod to Dinner, its romping horns bringing out a cinematic materiality in preparation for the 19-minute “Spangled Banner Minor And Other Patriotic Songs.” With its flowering allusions (a Beethovenian take on “The Star-Spangled Banner” most brilliant among them) and campy overtones, the suite wears a tongue in cheek as its logo. Alto saxophonist Elton Dean hits a home run with is madly dancing solo before Rudd leads the way to the finish.

This is deconstruction as reconstruction. Another Bley essential.