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Jazz
saxophonist and composer Joe Henderson could best be described as a
renaissance man. Creating a style unique from the dominant saxophonists
of his early career --namely John Coltrane and Sonny Rollins – Henderson
became the consummate leader and sideman. His name has become
synonymous with power and grace on the tenor saxophone, and has long
been revered in musical circles for his distinctive sound and powers of
invention. Although Henderson’s earliest recordings were marked by a
strong hard-bop influence, his playing encompassed not only the bebop
tradition, but rhythm and blues, latin, and avant-garde as well. Henderson
has had a remarkably consistent career, carving out his own reputation
through technical excellence, songwriting ability, and a stunning
diversity that made him a sought-after sideman early in his career. He
made his mark at Blue Note records as a member of the Kenny Dorham band
and went on to record with the Horace Silver group that made the classic
Song for My Father. A master of composition, his songs “Recorda- Me”
and “Inner Urge” have become jazz classics. From
1963 to 1968 Joe appeared on nearly thirty albums for Blue Note. The
recordings ranged from relatively conservative hard-bop sessions to more
avant-garde explorations. He played a prominent role in many landmark
recordings: Horace Silver’s swinging and soulful Song For My Father,
Herbie Hancock’s dark and densely orchestrated Prisoner, and Andrew
Hill’s avant-garde Black Fire. Henderson’s adaptability and eclecticism
would become even more apparent in the years to follow. Henderson’s
playing has a distinctively tender sense of swing, which can be heard
on dozens of Blue Note albums from the 1960s. Often overlooked at the
peak of his career, he returned to recording in the 1980s to great
acclaim. After
a long battle with emphysema and a stroke in 1998 which stopped his
public career, Joe Henderson passed away on June 30, 2001, leaving a
legacy and career that spanned for over four decades and a permanent
prototype for others to follow.
“Joe Henderson is always in the middle of a great solo.”
Joe Henderson A giant of the jazz saxophone, his modesty stood in contrast to his melodic improvisation
by John Fordham Monday 2 July 2001 The Guardian (UK)
For
all that he won Grammy awards, played saxophone with Bill Clinton at
his first presidential inauguration, acquired elder statesman jazz
status during the 1990s and was the very quintessence of a musician's
musician, Joe Henderson, who has died of heart failure aged 64, always
inhabited a concert stage as if he had no business being there. When
his partners were playing and he was taking time out, he would look, for
all the world, like a restlessly preoccupied man at a bus stop. Yet,
despite the machinations of his impenetrably devious reserve, and the
competition of an avalanche of brilliant postbop practitioners on his
instrument - from Sonny Rollins and John Coltrane to Michael Brecker and
James Carter - he was one of the greatest saxophone improvisors in the
period from the 1960s to the present. Often discussed as a plausible
heir apparent to Sonny Rollins, it is a sad surprise that the younger
man should be the one to leave the stage first.
The musical
impact of Ohio-born Henderson was all the more remarkable for his
dislike of grandstanding, egotism or bravura. He fastidiously avoided
the crowd-baiting hot lick, and had his own imperturbable perception of
musical dynamics, rarely deviating from a steady, methodical mid-range
purr, the very limitations of which made his remarkable harmonic and
melodic imagination all the more audible.
Though he liked the
middle register, which he occupied in a kind of penetrating murmur, he
had a high-register sound as pure as a flute. He favoured fast, incisive
statements of densely-packed runs, often ending in brusquely dissonant
squalls or prolonged warbles, as if he were gargling with pebbles. Much
of the vividness of his improvising stemmed from manipulations of tonal
contrasts and phrase-density, and a composer-like juggling with
fragmentary phrases and motifs, but on the fly. On top of it all, his
ability to avoid repeating favourite phrases of his own - or anybody
else's - could be little short of uncanny.
After the uplift of
interest in straightahead jazz during the 1990s, Henderson's audiences
were a lot bigger than the handful who used to show up at Ronnie Scott's
club 20 years before, when he was already a jaw-dropping executant of
sharp curves and four-wheel skids as a melodic improvisor, but mostly
playing straight jazz rather than the then commercially dominant idiom
of jazz-funk. But for those present, Henderson was obviously a whirlwind
force on the rise - not only for his imagination, but for his openness
to the contributions of the local musicians he worked with on those
solo travels in Europe, particularly the innovative British drummer Tony
Oxley.
Rollins and Charlie Parker were always clearly among
Henderson's primary influences, but he had also absorbed the work of
those equally wayward individualists, Ornette Coleman and Thelonious
Monk. A broad-minded and erudite musician, who explored classical,
Indian and Balinese music - as well as jazz - he would later say that he
heard Monk the way he heard Paul Hindemith. The subsequent 1990s
movement toward classical pianists beginning to record Monk tunes as
high points of 20th-century music came as no surprise to him.
Henderson
studied music at Kentucky State College from 1956, and at Wayne State
University, Detroit, where one of his fellow students was the multi-reed
player Yusef Lateef. He briefly worked with Sonny Stitt and led his own
band before military service, which ended in 1962. Then he joined the
bands of trumpeter Kenny Dorham and pianist Horace Silver, eventually
co-leading a hard bop group called the Jazz Communicators, with
trumpeter Freddie Hubbard. After that, he worked with Herbie Hancock in
the pianist's harmonically adventurous, if commercially obscure, sextet
of 1969-70, and with the jazz-rock band Blood, Sweat And Tears. He toyed
with jazz-rock fusion, but it was not especially memorably.
Though
Henderson would recall that some of his earliest sax-playing
experiences had been for dances around Detroit, and that his first
experience of hearing Charlie Parker live was also to witness dancers
gyrating to fast bop improvisations on Indiana and Cherokee, the dance
versions of jazz music that came from rhythm 'n' blues, rather than
swing roots, struck him as more repetitive, and harder to improvise
inventively with.
Impatient with the narrowing opportunities for
uncompromising jazz improvisors during the 1970s, he moved to San
Francisco, and became active in music education. He also worked with
Freddie Hubbard and others in a group variously known as Echoes Of An
Era, and the Griffith Park Band.
Henderson appeared on 34 Blue
Note albums between 1963 and 1990, alongside some of the most creative
musicians in American jazz - including McCoy Tyner, Elvin Jones, Chick
Corea, Ron Carter and Al Foster. But 1985 was re-emergence year for this
often overlooked artist. He played with Herbie Hancock, Ron Carter and
Tony Williams at the televised concert, One Night With Blue Note (the
relaunch of the famous Blue Note label), and also recorded the
adventurous double-set, The State Of The Tenor, alongside Carter and
Foster. A series of thematic recording opportunities followed when he
changed to Verve Records - including the lyrical Lush Life (devoted to
Billy Strayhorn), and 1992's So Near, So Far (Musings For Miles), a
tribute to the recently-departed Miles Davis by a supergroup that
included former Miles sidemen John Scofield, Dave Holland and Al Foster.
Henderson
loved improvising; taking a musical chance was his reason for artistic
existence. He once remarked, in an interview in the Guardian, on how
invaluable a quality adaptability was. "If, in a musical situation,
you've got to do all that talking, and explaining . . . jeez, man, it
can just go on and on. But you get a certain group of people, you just
have to count the tune in, or call the tune, or sometimes not even that,
just start playing . . . and everything that's supposed to fall in
place does just that. I was at a rehearsal with Miles once that was like
that; he just walked around with a can of beer, talking in that barely
audible voice, didn't hand out any parts.
"But then it dawned on
you, same as it was with Monk. If he had you there, that underscored how
he felt about you, that was the confidence that he had. When mother's
not there, telling you what to do, it's sink or swim. But once somebody
tells you, convincingly enough, that this is now your style - that's all
you need to know."
Joe Henderson, saxophonist, born April 24 1937; died June 29 2001
Joe Henderson is proof that jazz can sell without
watering down the music; it just takes creative marketing. Although his
sound and style were virtually unchanged from the mid-'60s, Joe
Henderson's signing with Verve in 1992 was treated as a major news event
by the label (even though he had already recorded many memorable
sessions for other companies). His Verve recordings had easy-to-market
themes (tributes to Billy Strayhorn, Miles Davis, and Antonio Carlos Jobim)
and, as a result, he became a national celebrity and a constant poll
winner while still sounding the same as when he was in obscurity in the
1970s.
The general feeling is that it couldn't have
happened to a more deserving jazz musician. After studying at Kentucky
State College and Wayne State University, Joe Henderson played locally
in Detroit before spending time in the military (1960-1962). He played
briefly with Jack McDuff and then gained recognition for his work with Kenny Dorham
(1962-1963), a veteran bop trumpeter who championed him and helped
Henderson get signed to Blue Note. Henderson appeared on many Blue Note
sessions both as a leader and as a sideman, spent 1964-1966 with Horace Silver's Quintet, and during 1969-1970 was in Herbie Hancock's band. From the start, he had a very distinctive sound and style which, although influenced a bit by both Sonny Rollins and John Coltrane,
also contained a lot of brand new phrases and ideas. Henderson had long
been able to improvise in both inside and outside settings, from hard
bop to freeform. In the 1970s, he recorded frequently for Milestone and
lived in San Francisco, but was somewhat taken for granted. The second
half of the 1980s found him continuing his freelancing and teaching
while recording for Blue Note, but it was when he hooked up with Verve
that he suddenly became famous. Virtually all of his recordings are
currently in print on CD, including a massive collection of his
neglected (but generally rewarding) Milestone dates. On June 30, 2001,
Joe Henderson passed away due to heart failure after a long battle with
emphysema.
The tenor saxophonist Joe Henderson was born on April 24, 1937
in a small city called Lima Ohio midway between Dayton and Toledo. He
spent his childhood and adolescence in Lima in a family of 15 children
where he was exposed to a variety of musical styles. By the time he was a
high school student he was already arranging and writing music for the
school band and other local outfits. It was in high school that a music
teacher introduced him to the tenor saxophone. After graduation he
enrolled first at the Kentucky State College to study music and then
moved on to Wayne State University in Detroit. There he had as
classmates several future jazz greats such as Yusef Lateef and Donald
Byrd. From 1960-1962 he enlisted in the US army where he led several
small jazz groups and won first place in a musical competition and was
sent on a tour to entertain the troops all over Japan and Europe where
he met a few of the expatriate musicians.
Early career: the Blue Note years
After
being discharged from the army he traveled to New York and sat in at
Birdland with Dexter Gordon and other local musicians. During one of
these sessions he was introduced to the trumpeter Kenny Dorham who was
so impressed by his musicianship that he arranged for Joe Henderson’s
first recording session as a leader with Blue Note Records. This
resulted in the record Page One (1963) which to this day
remains one of his most critically acclaimed albums. This recording also
spawned the standard Blue Bossa. During the following four years he led
4 other sessions for Blue Note and recorded as sideman on over to 2
dozen albums for the same label. Some of these records are today
classics of not only the label but also of jazz music. Andrew Hill’s Point of Departure, Larry Young’s Unity, Horace Silver’s Song For My Father and Lee Morgan’s Sidewinder
are just a few examples of those fruitful years. In addition to
creating timeless music Joe Henderson’s style also evolved during this
period to incorporate all genres of jazz from hard bop to avant garde
from latin to soul-jazz.
Middle period: the Milestone, Verve and experimentation years
From
1967-1979 he recorded primarily for the Milestone label with occasional
sessions as a leader for the Verve label and one, sorely
underappreciated, record for the Enja label called Barcelona.
Over this “middle period” of his career his style gradually evolved from
the powerful acoustic style of post bop to fusion, electric music,
avant garde and back to post-bop. Through all the changes, however, his
virtuosity remained intact even when the some of the later records from
this period were overall not as creative as his other works. During
these years he also composed prolifically and co-led groups with Freddie
Hubbard and Herbie Hancock. His forays outside of the realm of jazz led
him to play with Blood Sweat and Tears and other rock and R and B
groups. In the early seventies Joe Henderson became involved in teaching
as well and moved to San Francisco.
The latter period: the 80s and the tenor trio.
The
highlight of the 80s in Joe Henderson’s career was the recording of the
phenomenal live session at the Village Vanguard released on a two disc
set as The State of the Tenor Live at the Village Vanguard. It
is a live trio set with bass and drums similar to Sonny Rollins’
landmark recordings of over 2 decades before. Despite garnering critical
accolades the record remains underappreciated and not as well known as
it should be.
The latter period: the 90s, Verve, awards and commercial success .
During
the 90s Joe Henderson recorded 3 tribute sessions for Verve that were
not only critically acclaimed but were also commercially highly
successful. He won multiple Down Beat music awards in 1992, including
the international critics and readers polls, was named jazz musician of
the year and top tenor saxophonist. The first of the tribute albums Lush Life: The Music of Billy Strayhorn,
named album of the year and went on to sell more than 450,000 worldwide
in one year (1992); 100,000 copies of it in the United States. The
success of those records launched his international career and he
performed at many an international jazz festival and concert hall. The
second of these albums So Near So Far: Musings for Miles won
him a Grammy for best jazz performance. The decade also saw him
recording as a sideman with a number of up and coming jazz musicians
such as Renee Rosnes, Rebecca Coupe Franks, Stephen Scott and Holy Cole
just to name a few.
In 1997 he recorded his last album Porgy and Bess
and a year later he suffered a stroke that kept him from performing and
in poor health. The world of jazz lost one of its great composers and
most accomplished musicians on June 30th 2001 when Joe Henderson passed
away from emphysema in San Francisco.
Jazz at 100 Hour 76: The Arrival of Joe Henderson (1963 – 1967)
Joe Henderson
Joe Henderson may have been the most significant tenor saxophonist to
emerge in the 1960s. Gary Giddins wrote that he is “…an irresistibly
lucid player, whose adroitness in conjuring stark and swirling riffs
contributed immeasurably to two of the most durable jazz hits of the
’60s, Horace Silver’s ‘Song for My Father’ and Lee Morgan’s ‘The Sidewinder.’” In addition to those tunes, in previous programs in this series, we have also heard Kenny Dorham’s ‘Blue Bossa’ from Henderson’s first release Page One, his own composition ‘Caribbean Fire Dance’ from his Mode For Joe release and two tunes from Andrew Hill’s Point of Departure.
In this hour of Jazz at 100, we will continue to explore Henderson’s
solo work and his role as a valued sideman, mining the seams between
hard bop and the avant-garde as the 1960s progressed.
Joe Henderson, Page One.
“One of the last great tenormen of the original hard-bop generation, who
it’s hard to imagine not in the middle of some grand, involved solo,
Henderson was a thematic musician, working his way round the structure
of a composition with methodical intensity, but he was also a masterful
licks player, with a seemingly limitless stock of phrases that he could
turn to advantage in any post-bop setting; this gave his best
improvisations a balance of surprise, immediacy and coherence few other
saxophonists could match. His lovely tone, which combines softness and a
harsh plangency in a similar way, is another pleasing aspect of his
music. Page One was his first date as a leader, and it still stands as
one of the most popular Blue Notes of the early ’60s. Henderson had not
long since arrived in New York after being discharged from the army, and
this six-theme set is very much the work of a new star on the scene. ‘Recorda-Me’,
whose Latinate lilt has made it a staple blowing vehicle for hard-bop
bands, had its debut here… Everything here, even the throwaway blues ‘Homestretch’ is impressively handled.” – Brian Morton & Richard Cook
Recorda-Me. Joe Henderson Quintet
(Kenny Dorham-tp, Joe Henderson-ts, McCoy Tyner-p, Butch Warren-b, Pete LaRoca-d). From Page One. 6/3/1963
Composed by Joe Henderson.
Homestretch. Joe Henderson Quintet
(Kenny Dorham-tp, Joe Henderson-ts, McCoy Tyner-p, Butch Warren-b, Pete LaRoca-d). From Page One. 6/3/1963
Composed by Joe Henderson.
Joe Henderson, Inner Urge
Norman Weinstein describes Henderson’s fourth solo release, Inner Urge
as “Joe Henderson’s most emotionally urgent album” and suggests that it
might be “the ultimate showcase of his distinguished career.” He writes
that “The deference to Coltrane is obvious: pianist McCoy Tyner and
drummer Elvin Jones are on board on every selection, although shifting
their styles to mesh with Henderson. The deference to [Stan] Getz is
more subtle, coming clear on Henderson’s stingingly lyric ballad
feature, ‘You Know I Care,’ and his melodic recasting of Cole Porter’s ‘Night and Day.’
Weaving a path between Coltrane’s fiery sermonizing and Getz’s singable
romanticism, Henderson displays a wholly individual sense of phrasing
that alternates molten passionate engagement with cool reflection… ‘El Barrio’
digs as deeply into the Latin mode as Henderson ever went, again
emphasizing a nearly strangulated, gruff sax sound interrupted by
beautifully full tones. The empathy with Tyner and Jones is palpable
throughout the album. They’re egging him on, but oh so gently, giving
Henderson tons of space to sink or swim in… The album seems like an
apotheosis of hard bop, a ruthlessly probing amplification of a typical,
hard-blowing, Blue Note bop session, pushing bop formulas as far as
they could be pushed. [It is] not only one of the best dozen Blue Note
sessions ever released, [but] one of the major statements of jazz in the
’60s… An absolutely essential listen and a major masterpiece.”
You Know I Care. Joe Henderson Quartet
(Joe Henderson-ts, McCoy Tyner-p, Bob Cranshaw-b, Elvin Jones-d). From Inner Urge. 11/30/1964
Composed by Duke Pearson.
El Barrio. Joe Henderson Quartet
(Joe Henderson-ts, McCoy Tyner-p, Bob Cranshaw-b, Elvin Jones-d). From Inner Urge. 11/30/1964
Composed by Manny Albem.
Joe Henderson with Bobby Hutcherson, McCoy Tyner & Larry Young.
Throughout his career, Joe Henderson was in demand as a sideman and
recorded frequently with the best players around, despite having his own
regular solo releases.
“The Kicker wasn’t made available until 1999. Even if
Hutcherson’s standing was thought to be marginal, the presence of Joe
Henderson should have been enough to see this fine, imaginative session
into the light of day. The saxophonist is the main composer… [His] ‘Kicker’ and ‘Step Lightly’
are cracking tunes and blistering performances from all concerned.
Hutcherson’s fleet, ringing lines have rarely sounded more buoyant and
persuasive…” – Brian Morton & Richard Cook
The Kicker. Bobby Hutcherson Sextet
(Joe Henderson-ts, Bobby Hutcherson-vib, Duke Pearson-p, Grant Green-g, Bob Cranshaw-b, Al Harewood-d). From The Kicker. 12/29/1963
Composed by Joe Henderson.
“Larry Young was the first Hammond player to shake off the pervasive
influence of Jimmy Smith and begin the assimilation of John Coltrane’s
harmonics to the disputed border territory between jazz and nascent
rock… Unity is a modern jazz masterpiece, whipped along by
Jones’s ferocious drumming and Henderson’s meaty tenor” – Brian Morton
& Richard Cook
If. Larry Young Quartet
(Woody Shaw-tp, Joe Henderson-ts, Larry Young-org, Elvin Jones-d). From Unity. 11/10/1965
Composed by Joe Henderson.
“[Joe Henderson] was the great saxophone-playing linker of bop and
free-jazz, even more than Coltrane. He had a tonal range similar to
Coltrane’s in its guttural urgency, ranging in this album’s ‘Passion Dance’
from a classic, dapper tenor richness to a pinched shrieking sound. Yet
it was his own sound, with the grease of R&B players; he connected
notes with a rubbery, portamento slide. He took his time; he sounded
more joyful than Coltrane, as if he had less to lose. His sound was less
self-conscious, happy to be a work in progress.” – Ben Ratliff.
Passion Dance. McCoy Tyner Quartet
(Joe Henderson-ts, McCoy Tyner-p, Ron Carter-b, Elvin Jones-d). From The Real McCoy. 4/21/1967
Composed by McCoy Tyner.
“Although he appeared on some of the biggest-selling recordings in the history of the Blue Note label (Song for My Father, The Sidewinder),
Henderson never became mesmerized, as did many of his contemporaries,
by the commercial potential of soul and funk-oriented music.” – Ted
Gioia
Joe Henderson recorded a series of records for Milestone through the 1970s, made a major record The State of The Tenor
for Blue Note in the 80s and finished his career with an outstanding
series of releases on Verve including tributes to Billy Strayhorn, Miles
Davis, and Antonio Carlos Jobim. He recorded his version of Porgy and
Bess in 1997, made one more record with Terrence Blanchard in 1998 and
died in 2001.
Miles Davis, through his adoption of modal music, participated in the
gradual liberation that resulted in the free music of the jazz
avant-garde. Yet, although he continued to explore broadly, he was
public in his discomfort with free jazz. Despite this reluctance, the
new quintet that he began to build in 1963 resulted in the freest music
of his career and became legendary as his Second Great Quintet. Miles
Davis and The Second Great Quintet, in the next hour of Jazz at 100.
Recordings.
Joe Henderson. Page One. Blue Note BLP 4140
Joe Henderson. Inner Urge. Blue Note BLP 4189
Bobby Hutcherson. The Kicker. Blue Note CDP 7243 5 21437-2
Larry Young. Unity. Blue Note BLP 4221
McCoy Tyner. The Real McCoy. Blue Note BLP 4264
Resources.
Giddins, Gary. 1998. Visions of Jazz: The First Century. New York. Oxford University Press. Chapter 70. Joe Henderson (Tributes)
Morton, Brian & Cook, Richard. 2011. Penguin Jazz Guide, the History
of the Music in the 1001 Best Albums. New York, NY. Penguin Books. Joe Henderson. Page One Bobby Hutcherson. The Kicker Larry Young. Unity McCoy Tyner. The Real McCoy
Ratliff, Ben. 2002. The New York Times Essential Library of Jazz. New York. Times Books. Chapter 78. McCoy Tyner, The Real McCoy (1967)
Weinstein, Norman. “Joe Henderson: Inner Urge.” All About Jazz.
7/2/2004.
https://www.allaboutjazz.com/inner-urge-joe-henderson-blue-note-records-review-by-norman-weinstein.php
Annotated playlists and streaming links for all the Jazz at 100 broadcasts: Jazz at 100
Today, we celebrate the life and achievements of the tenor saxophone maestro, Joe Henderson.
In a career spanning four decades, Henderson left an indelible mark on
the world of jazz. On this special day, we’ll walk through his journey,
highlighting his triumphs and incredible music.
Joe Henderson was born in Lima, Ohio, in 1937, into a musically
inclined family. Early on, he developed a passion for jazz, admiring the
artistry of Charlie Parker, Lester Young, and Ben Webster.
Henderson also found inspiration in classical music, with the likes of
Bartok and Stravinsky contributing to his musical palette.
Henderson’s journey into professional musicianship began at Kentucky
State College and Wayne State University in Detroit. He soon shared the
stage with the legendary Sonny Stitt
and eventually led his own band in Detroit. Henderson’s career took a
detour during his military service, but he continued playing in an Army
band, touring the world.
Throughout his career, Joe Henderson collaborated with a
constellation of jazz stars. His discography, both as a leader and
sideman, has left an enduring impact on jazz history. Two of his albums,
“In ‘N Out” (1964) and “Mode for Joe” (1966), stand out as masterpieces
that showcase his brilliance.
“In ‘N Out” marked Henderson’s third album as a leader. Featuring Kenny Dorham on trumpet, it’s a compelling blend of hard bop and introspective ballads. The title track’s rhythm section, with Elvin Jones on drums and McCoy Tyner
on piano, evokes a Coltrane-esque feel. However, Henderson’s solo
reveals his distinctive voice, rooted in deliberate construction and
emotive power. The album’s intricate melodies and unyielding energy make
it a cornerstone of Henderson’s career.
In 'N Out (Remastered 2003 / Rudy Van Gelder Edition)
Original recording by Joe Henderson in 1964. Blue Note label.
On “Mode for Joe,” Henderson shared the frontline with a fiery Lee Morgan on trumpet and a young Bobby Hutcherson on vibes. Curtis Fuller‘s
trombone provided depth to the melodic statements. The opening track,
“A Shade of Jade,” epitomizes hard bop at its finest. The ensemble’s
unrivaled confidence and verve make it a treat for the ears.
Mode For Joe (Remastered 2003 / Rudy Van Gelder Edition)
“Caribbean Fire Dance” showcases Henderson and Morgan’s creative
aggression. Henderson’s ability to weave in and out of the harmonic
structure, while remaining firmly grounded, displays his mastery.
Morgan’s solo, with its brilliant brass tone, complements the ensemble
perfectly. The record’s closing track, “Free Wheelin’,” features a more
structured melody, with Henderson’s solo restrained yet captivating.
By the 1990s, Henderson finally achieved the widespread recognition
he deserved. After signing with Verve, he released three Grammy-winning
albums: “Lush Life,” a tribute to Billy Strayhorn, “So Near, So Far,”
honoring Miles Davis, and “Double Rainbow,” dedicated to Antonio Carlos
Jobim. This late-career renaissance also saw Henderson claiming Down
Beat magazine’s “triple crown” awards two years in a row.
Henderson’s improvisational skills and lyrical contemporary jazz
style set him apart from his contemporaries. Often compared to Stan
Getz, his sound was unique and instantly recognizable. His ability to
connect with audiences on a deeply emotional level was a testament to
his artistry.
As a composer, Joe Henderson’s work is equally remarkable. Notable
compositions include “Recordame,” “Black Narcissus,” “Inner Urge,”
“Isotope,” “The Bad Game,” and “Caribbean Fire Dance.” These works
continue to inspire and challenge musicians today, solidifying his
impact on jazz.
Henderson’s personal life took him to San Francisco, where he taught
music and continued to perform. His passion for teaching and sharing his
knowledge reflected his love for the art form. Despite the health
challenges he faced later in life, which ultimately brought an end to
his public performances, Henderson’s spirit remained unbroken.
Joe Henderson passed away in 2001, but his legacy lives on through
his music and the countless musicians he inspired. As we celebrate his
birthday, we’re reminded of the incredible impact he made on the world
of jazz. His artistry, innovation, and unwavering dedication to his
craft make him a true legend.
In honoring Joe Henderson’s life and work, we must also recognize the
importance of preserving and promoting jazz as a vital art form. It’s
crucial for future generations to discover the magic of Joe Henderson
and other jazz greats. Through our appreciation and support of jazz, we
keep their legacies alive and thriving.
As we raise a toast to the memory of Joe Henderson, let us rekindle
our love for the music he created. We celebrate his life by listening to
his timeless records and sharing them with others. By doing so, we
ensure that the spirit of Joe Henderson and the jazz tradition he so
passionately embodied continues to inspire and enrich the lives of many.
In closing, we remember Joe Henderson for his immense talent, his
musical contributions, and his unwavering passion for jazz. Today, on
his birthday, we celebrate a man who left an indelible mark on the world
of music. Let us honor his legacy by continuing to enjoy and share the
gift of his artistry for years to come.
Joe Henderson, Saxophonist And Composer, Dies at 64 by BEN RATLIFF July 3, 2001 New York Times
Joe
Henderson, one of the great jazz saxophonists and a composer who wrote a
handful of tunes known by almost every jazz student, died on Saturday
in San Francisco. He was 64 and lived in San Francisco.
The cause was heart failure after a long struggle with emphysema, The Associated Press reported.
Mr.
Henderson was unmistakably modern. ''Joe had one foot in the present,
the other in the future, and he was just a step away from immortality,''
said the saxophonist Benny Golson. His tenor saxophone sound was
shaded, insinuating, full of layers, with quicksilver lines amid careful
ballad phrases and short trills. He had a clean, expressive upper
register and a talent for improvising in semi-abstract harmony, and when
the far-out years for jazz arrived in the mid-60's, led by musicians
like John Coltrane and Miles Davis, he was well positioned to take part.
He made a series of records for Milestone that used studio echo, Alice
Coltrane's harp, violins, wood flutes and other exotic accouterments.
But
Mr. Henderson's greatest strengths were more traditional: the ballad,
the uptempo tune, the standard. And by the early 1990's, when he was a
respected elder, he made some of his greatest statements on a series of
well-produced, nearly theatrical albums for Verve Records.
Born
in Lima, Ohio, he was one of 15 siblings. His parents and his brother
James encouraged him to study music because of the talents he displayed
as a saxophonist in his high school band. He attended Kentucky State
College for a year, then transferred to Wayne State University in
Detroit, where he was among fellow students like Yusef Lateef, Curtis
Fuller and Hugh Lawson. In Detroit he worked with the saxophonist Sonny
Stitt, and eventually formed his own group before joining the Army in
1960. He played in the Army band at Fort Benning, Ga., and toured
military bases in the Far East and Europe with a revue called the
Rolling Along Show.
In 1962 Mr. Henderson, who soon became a
distinctive presence with his rail-thin body, thick black glasses and
bushy mustache, was discharged and headed for New York. He quickly
joined the young musicians recording for Blue Note records, especially
the trumpeter Kenny Dorham, who was acting as a talent scout for the
label. He made his recording debut in 1963 on Dorham's ''Una Mas,'' one
of the classic Blue Note records of the early 60's.
Mr. Henderson
was entering jazz at a fertile moment, when a few ambitious,
challenging albums, like John Coltrane's ''My Favorite Things'' and
Miles Davis's ''Kind of Blue,'' had broken through to a wide audience. A
new self-possessed intellectualism was widespread in black music, and
the experimental and traditional factions hadn't yet hardened their
positions. Within the same four-month stretch as a Blue Note session
regular, Mr. Henderson found himself playing solos on Lee Morgan's
''Sidewinder,'' an album full of bluesy, hard-bop tunes, and Andrew
Hill's album ''Point of Departure,'' with its opaque, knotted harmonies
and rhythmic convolutions. He played more roadhouse riffs on Morgan's
record, more abstract thematic improvisations on Mr. Hill's, and sounded
perfectly natural in both contexts.
After making five albums
with Dorham, Mr. Henderson replaced Junior Cook in Horace Silver's band
from 1964 to 1966. Again he was on hand for a milestone album, ''Song
for My Father.'' He was also a member of Herbie Hancock's band from 1969
to 1970.
During the 60's he made several first-rate albums under
his own name, including ''Page One'' and ''Inner Urge,'' and wrote
tunes -- among them the blues pieces ''Isotope'' and ''A Shade of
Jade,'' the waltz ''Black Narcissus,'' the bossa nova ''Recordame'' and
the harmonically complex ''Inner Urge'' -- that earned lasting
underground reputations as premium modern-jazz improvisational vehicles.
Mr.
Henderson briefly joined the jazz-rock band Blood, Sweat and Tears in
1971, and his albums for Milestone, where he recorded until 1976,
started to change from mystical Coltrane-inspired sessions to grooves
and near jazz-rock. By the end of the 70's, he was working with the
pianist Chick Corea. Then, after a five-year silence, he came back with
the two volumes of ''The State of the Tenor.'' The first of his moves to
redefine his career, these excellent mainstream jazz sets were recorded
live at the Village Vanguard.
In the early 1990's he signed a
new contract with Verve, which led to three Grammys. ''Lush Life,'' from
1991, used Billy Strayhorn tunes. With its first-rate playing and
narrative arc -- it began with a duet, expanded to a quintet and ended
with a saxophone solo -- it has sold nearly 90,000 copies, reports
Soundscan, a company that tracks album sales.
Other songbook
albums, only slightly less successful, included ''So Near, So Far
(Musings for Miles),'' a treatment of pieces associated with Miles
Davis; ''Double Rainbow,'' an album of Antonio Carlos Jobim's music; and
Gershwin's ''Porgy and Bess,'' recorded with an all-star jazz lineup as
well as the pop singers Sting and Chaka Khan. His 90's discography also
included ''Joe Henderson Big Band,'' a lavish rendering of his
compositions.
Mr. Henderson's survivors include a sister, Phyllis, and a brother, Troy.
Joe
Henderson (tenor saxophonist) was born on April 24, 1937 in Lima, Ohio
and passed away on June 30, 2001 in San Francisco, California.
Born
in the small city of Lima Ohio between Dayton and Toledo, he spent his
childhood and adolescence years in a family of 15 children where he was
exposed to a variety of musical styles, and was encouraged by his
parents and older brother James T. to study music. He dedicated his
first album to them for being so understanding and tolerant during his
formative years.
By the time he was a high school student he was
already arranging and writing music for the school band and other local
outfits. It was in high school that a music teacher introduced him to
the tenor saxophone. After graduation he enrolled first at the Kentucky
State College to study music and then moved on to Wayne State University
in Detroit. There he had as classmates several future jazz greats such
as Yusef Lateef and Donald Byrd. From 1960-1962 he enlisted in the US
army where he led several small jazz groups and won first place in a
musical competition and was sent on a tour to entertain the troops all
over Japan and Europe where he met a few of the expatriate musicians.
The Blue Note Years
After
being discharged from the army he traveled to New York and sat in at
Birdland with Dexter Gordon and other local musicians. During one of
these sessions he was introduced to the trumpeter Kenny Dorham who was
so impressed by his musicianship that he arranged for Joe Henderson’s
first recording session as a leader with Blue Note Records. This
resulted in the record Page One (1963) which to this day remains one of
his most critically acclaimed albums. This recording also spawned the
standard Blue Bossa.
During the following 4 years he led four
other sessions for Blue Note and recorded as sideman on over to two
dozen albums for the same label. Some of these records are today
classics of not only the label but also of jazz music. Andrew Hill’s
Point of Departure, Larry Young’s Unity, Horace Silver’s Song For My
Father and Lee Morgan’s Sidewinder are just a few examples of those
fruitful years. In addition to creating timeless music Joe Henderson’s
style also evolved during this period to incorporate all genres of jazz,
from hard bop to avant garde, from latin to soul-jazz.
The Milestone / Verve Years From
1967-1979 he recorded primarily for the Milestone label with occasional
sessions as a leader for the Verve label and one, sorely
underappreciated, record for the Enja label called Barcelona. Over this
“middle period” of his career his style gradually evolved from the
powerful acoustic style of post bop to fusion, electric music, avant
garde and back to post-bop. Through all the changes, however, his
virtuosity remained intact even when the some of the later records from
this period were overall not as creative as his other works. During
these years he also composed prolifically and co-led groups with Freddie
Hubbard and Herbie Hancock. His forays outside of the realm of jazz led
him to play with Blood Sweat and Tears and other rock and R & B
groups. In the early seventies Joe Henderson became involved in teaching
as well and moved to San Francisco.
The Latter Years: 80s & 90s The
highlight of the 80s in Joe Henderson’s career was the recording of the
phenomenal live session at the Village Vanguard released on a two disc
set as The State of the Tenor Live at the Village Vanguard. It is a live
trio set with bass and drums similar to Sonny Rollins’ landmark
recordings of over 2 decades before. Despite garnering critical
accolades the record remains underappreciated and not as well known as
it should be.
During the 90s Joe Henderson recorded 3 tribute
sessions for Verve that were not only critically acclaimed but were also
commercially highly successful. He won multiple Down Beat music awards
in 1992, including the international critics and readers polls, was
named jazz musician of the year and top tenor saxophonist. The first of
the tribute albums Lush Life: The Music of Billy Strayhorn, named album
of the year and went on to sell more than 450,000 worldwide in one year
(1992); 100,000 copies of it in the United States. The success of those
records launched his international career and he performed at many an
international jazz festival and concert hall. The second of these albums
So Near So Far: Musings for Miles won him a Grammy for best jazz
performance. The decade also saw him recording as a sideman with a
number of up and coming jazz musicians such as Renee Rosnes, Rebecca
Coupe Franks, Stephen Scott and Holy Cole just to name a few.
In
1997 he recorded his last album Porgy and Bess and a year later he
suffered a stroke that kept him from performing and in poor health. The
world of jazz lost one of its great composers and most accomplished
musicians on June 30th 2001 when Joe Henderson passed away from
emphysema in San Francisco.
For nearly thirty years, Henderson
has possessed his own sound and has developed his own angles on swing, melody,
timbre and harmony, while constantly expanding his own skill at playing in
uncommon meters and rhythms. In his playing you hear an imposing variety of
harmonic, rhythmic and melodic choices; you also hear his personal
appropriation of the technical victories for his instrument achieved by men
such as Sonny Stitt, Stan Getz, Sonny Rollins, Warne Marsh, Paul Gonsalves,
Johnny Griffin and John Coltrane.
In connection with
Joe Henderson’s music, “revelatory” has as it’s meaning so much that is
eloquent, expressive and significant that it is difficult to understand how
often it is often overlooked, let alone, taken for granted by Jazz fans in
general.
Names such as
Coleman Hawkins, Chu Berry, Lester Young, Stan Getz, Sonny Rollins
and John Coltrane are often mentioned as great tenor saxophonists, but Joe
Henderson’s name is rarely among them.
It should be.
Joe’s sound and
approach to improvisation are as distinctive and unique as any of the great
tenor masters and his influence on generations of Jazz musicians has been huge.
Take for example
this assessment of Joe’s significance by guitarist John Scofield:
"Joe Henderson
is the essence of jazz ….He embodies musically all the different elements that
came together in his generation: hard-bop masterfulness plus the avant-garde.
He's a great bopper like Hank Mobley or Sonny Stitt, but he also plays out. He
can take it far harmonically, but still with roots. He's a great blues player,
a great ballads player. He has one of the most beautiful tones and can set as
pretty as Pres or Stan Getz. He's got unbelievable time. He can float, but he
can also dig in. He can put the music wherever he wants it. He's got his own
vocabulary, his own phrases he plays all different ways, like all the great
jazz players. He plays songs in his improvisations. He'll play a blues shout
like something that would come from Joe Turner, next to some of the fastest,
outest, most angular, atonal music you've ever heard. Who's playing better on
any instrument, more interestingly, more cutting edge yet completely with
roots than Joe Henderson? He's my role model in jazz."
And Joe is also no
secret to the tenor saxophonists who evolved under his influence in the generation
following his such as Joe Lovano and Branford Marsalis.
"Joe
Henderson and Wayne Shorter emerged at the same time with their own sounds and
rhythms and tunes. They inspired me as a young player …. He's always had his
own voice. He's developed his own concepts with the inspirations of the people
he dug but without copying them. I hear Joe in other tenor players. I hear not
only phrases copped from Joe, but lately I hear younger cats trying to cop his
sound. That's who you are as a player: your sound. It's one thing to learn from
someone, but to copy his sound is strange. Joe's solo development live is a real
journey — and you can't cop that! He's on an adventure whenever he plays."
- Joe Lovano
"Joe
Henderson is one of the most influential saxophone players of the 20th century
…. I learned all the solos on Mode for Joe and the records he did
with McCoy Tyner, a lot of the stuff he's on, like The Prisoner. He was one
of the few saxophone players who could really play what I call the modern
music, that really came from the bebop tradition but extended the harmonic
tradition further. There's a small group of guys in that pantheon: Coltrane,
Wayne Shorter, Warne Marsh, Lucky Thompson, Sonny and Ornette, and Joe Hen.
He's an amazing musician. I'm really jaded. I don't really go to the clubs
anymore. There's not really anything I want to hear — except when Joe's in
town. And when Joe's in town, I'm there every night!"
– Branford Marsalis
I got to know Joe
a bit after the time of his interview with Michael Bourne for Downbeat [March, 1992; see below]. He had just finished the Lush Life [Verve/Polygram 314 511 779-2]tribute to Bill Strayhorn and was working on the charts that would appear a few years later on the Joe
Henderson Big Band CD [Verve/Polygram 314 533 451-2].
He and I lived on
either side of Divisadero Street in central San Francisco. Divisadero is a north-south traffic
throughway that cuts through several neighborhoods, including Lower Haight, Alamo Square, Pacific Heights, and the Marina and offers a kaleidoscopic mix of dining,
grocery, and merchant fronts that serve each neighborhood.
The first time we
met, Joe was sitting in a barbecue ribs place on Divisadero called The Brothers
and while I waited for my take-out order I spotted him sitting quietly in a
window seat reading some music scoring sheets.
For years, Joe
wore a straw-hat version of Lester Young’s pork-pie hat and big suspenders that
adorned shirts with thick, colorful stripes. This garb along with his salt and
pepper beard was a dead give-away so I sauntered up to him and said: “You’re
Kenny Dorham aren’t you?" [Joe was close friends with trumpeter and composer
Dorham and made his recording debut on Kenny’s Una Mas Blue Note LP.]
He looked up from
his scores with a momentary, puzzled look that quickly turned into a smile once
he saw that I was wearing one too.
Motioning me to
sit down at the table next to him he asked: “And what would you know about
Kenny Dorham?”
That conversation
in various forms took on a life of its own for a number of years in a variety
of Divisadero locations ranging from coffee shops to pizzerias.
During this
period, Joe often talked about his big band disc which was issued on Verve in
1996 [314 533 451-2].
I didn’t see him
very much after the Joe Henderson Big Band CD was released as by then I had moved
to the West Portal area of the city.
Joe died in 2001
at the much-too-young-age of sixty-four [64].
The editorial
staff at JazzProfiles wanted to remember Joe on these pages with this
interview which is followed by a video playlist of Joe’s original compositions
and/or solos by Joe in other settings.
He's not Pres-like
or Bird-like, not 'Trane-ish or Newk-ish. None of the stylistic adjectives so
convenient for critics work for tenor saxist Joe Henderson. It's evident he's
listened to the greats: to Lester Young, Charlie Parker, John Coltrane, Sonny
Rollins — to them and all the others he's enjoyed. But he doesn't play like
them, doesn't sound like them. Joe Henderson is a master, and, like the greats,
unique.
When he came along
in the '60s, jazz was happening every which way, from mainstream and
avant-garde to blues, rock and then some, and everything that was happening he
played. Henderson's saxophone became a Triton's horn and
transformed the music, whatever the style, whatever the groove, into himself.
And he's no different (or, really, always different) today. There's no
"typical" Joe Henderson album, and every solo is, like the soloist,
original and unusual, thoughtful and always from the heart.
"I think
playing the saxophone is what I'm supposed to be doing on this planet,"
says Joe Henderson. "We all have to do something. I play the saxophone.
It's the best way I know that I can
make the largest number of
people happy and get for myself the largest amount of happiness."
Joe was born April
24, 1937, in Lima, Ohio. When he was nine he was tested for
musical aptitude. "I wanted to play drums. I'd be making drums out of my
mother's pie pans. But they said I'd gotten a high enough score that I could
play anything, and they gave me a saxophone. It was a C melody. I played that
about six months and went to the tenor. I was kind of born on the tenor."
Even before he played, Joe was fascinated by his brother's jazz records.
"I listened to Lester Young, Flip Phillips, Stan Getz, Charlie Parker,
all the people associated with Jazz at the Philharmonic.
This stuff went
into my ears early on, so when I started to play the saxophone I had in my mind
an idea of how that instrument was supposed to sound. I also heard the
rhythm-and-blues saxophone players when they came through my hometown."
Soon he was
playing dances and learning melodies with his friends. "I think of
playing music on the bandstand like an actor relates to a role. I've always
wanted to be the best interpreter the world has ever seen. Where a precocious
youngster gets an idea like that is beyond me, but somehow improvisation set
in on me pretty early, probably before I
knew what improvisation was, really. I've always tried to re-create melodies
even better than the composers who wrote them. I've always tried to come up
with something that never even occurred to them. This is the challenge: not to
rearrange the intentions of the composers but to stay within the parameters of
what the composers have in mind and be creative and imaginative and
meaningful."
One melody that's
become almost as much Henderson's as the composer's is Ask
Me Now by Thelonious Monk. He's recorded it often, each performance an
odyssey of sounds and feelings.
"I play it 75
percent of the time because I like it and the other 25 percent because it's
demanded that I play it. I sometimes have to play it twice a night, even three
times. That tune just laid around for a while. Monk did an incredible job on
it, but other than Monk I don't think I heard anyone play it before I recorded
it. It's a great tune, very simple. There are some melodies that just stand by
themselves. Gershwin was that kind of writer. You don't even have to improvise.
You don't have to do anything but play the melody and people will be pleased.
One of the songs like that is Lush Life.
That's for me the most beautiful tune ever written. It's even more profound
knowing that Hilly Strayhorn wrote it, words and music, when he was 17 or 18.
How does an 18-year-old arrive at that point of feeling, that depth'"
Lush Life is the title song of Henderson's new album of Strayhorn's music.
"Musicians have to plant some trees—and replant some trees to extend the
life of these good things. Billy Strayhorn was one of the people whose talent
should be known. Duke Ellington knew about him, so that says something. There
are still a lot of people who haven't heard Strayhorn's music, but if I can do something to enable them to
become aware of Strayhorn's genius. I'd feel great about that."
Lush Life is the
first of several projects he'll record for Verve. Don Sickler worked with Henderson selecting and arranging some of
Strayhorn's classics and, with Polygram Jazz VP Richard Seidel, produced the
album. Henderson plays Lush Life
alone, and, on the other songs he's joined for duets to quintets by four of the
brightest young players around, pianist Stephen Scott, bassist Christian McBride,
drummer Gregory Hutchinson, and trumpeter Wynton Marsalis. That the interplay
of generations is respectful, inspirational and affectionate is obvious.
"I think this
was part of it, to present some of the youngsters with one of the more
established voices. This is the natural way that it happens. This is the way it
happened for me. I wouldn't have met the people I met if it hadn't been for
Kenny Dorham, Horace Silver, Miles Davis, people I've been on the bandstand
with. They introduced me to their audience. We have to do things like this.
When older musicians like me find people who can continue the tradition, we
have to create ways to bring these people to the fore."
Henderson came to the fore in the '60s. He'd studied for a year at Kentucky State, then four years at Wayne State in Detroit, where he often gigged alongside Yusef
Lateef, Barry Harris, Hugh Lawson and Donald Byrd. He was drafted in 1960 and
played bass in a military show that traveled the world. While touring in 1961,
he met and played with Bud Powell and Kenny Clarke in Paris. Once he was discharged in 1962, he
settled in New York, where so many of his friends from Detroit were already regulars, and where trumpeter
Kenny Dorham became a brother.
"Kenny Dorham
was one of the most important creators in New York, and he's damn near a name you don't hear
anymore. That's a shame. How can you overlook a diamond in the rough like
him? There haven't been that many people who have that much on the ball
creatively as Kenny Dorham."
Henderson's first professional recording was Dorham's album Una
Mas, the first of many albums he recorded through the '60s as a sideman
or a leader for Blue Note. This was the classic time of Blue Note, and what's
most remarkable is the variety of music Henderson played, from the grooves of Lee Morgan's The
Sidewinder to the avant-garde sounds of Andrew Hill's Point
of Departure. Whatever was happening musically, Joe Henderson was a
natural.
"That's part
of what I wanted to do early on — be the best interpreter I could possibly be.
I wanted to interpret Andrew Hill's music better than he could write it, the
same with Duke Pearson and Horace Silver. I'd study and try to find ways of
being imaginative and interesting for this music without changing the music
around. I didn't want to make Horace Silver's music different from what he had
in mind. I wanted to make it even more of what he had in mind."
He joined the
Horace Silver band for several years and fronted a big band with
Kenny Dorham — music
he'll re-create and record this year at Lincoln Center. He worked with Blood, Sweat and Tears for
a minute in 1969, but quit to work with Miles Davis.
"Miles, Wayne
Shorter and I were the only constants in the band. I never knew who was going
to show up. There'd be a different drummer every night—Tony Williams, Jack De Johnette,
Billy Cobham. Ron Carter would play one night, next night Miroslav Vitous or
Eddie Gomez. Chick Corea would play one night, next night Herbie Hancock. It
never settled. We played all around but never recorded. This was previous to
everyone having Walkman recorders. Miles had a great sense of humor. I couldn't
stop laughing. I'd be on the bandstand and I'd remember something he said in
the car to the gig, and right in the middle of a phrase I'd crack up!"
Henderson's worked more and more as a leader ever since, and recorded
many albums, like Lush Life, with particular ideals. He recorded
"concept" albums like The Elements with Alice Coltrane and was among
the first to experiment with the new sounds of synthesizers. He composed tunes
like Power to the People with a more
social point of view. "I got politically involved in a musical way.
Especially in the '60s, when people were trying to effect a cure for the ills
that have beset this country for such a long time, I thought I'd use the music
to convey some of my thoughts. I'd think of a title like Black Narcissus, and then put the music together. I'd try to create
a nice melody, but at the same time, when people heard it on the radio, a title
like Afro-Centric or Power to the People made a
statement."
Words have always
inspired Joe Henderson. "I try to create ideas in a musical way the same
as writers try to create images with words. I use the mechanics of writing in
playing solos. I use quotations. I use commas, semicolons. Pepper Adams turned me on to a writer, Henry Robinson.
He wrote a sentence that spanned three or four pages before the period came.
And it wasn't a stream of consciousness that went on and on and on. He was
stopping, pausing in places with hyphens, brackets around things. He kept
moving from left to right with this thought. I can remember in Detroit trying to do that, trying to play the
longest meaningful phrase that I could possibly play before I took the obvious
breath."
Henderson names Truman Capote, Norman Mailer, Herman Hesse and the
Bible among his favorites. "I think the creative faculties are the same
whether you're a musician, a writer, a painter. I can appreciate a painter as
if he were a musician playing a phrase with a stroke, the way he'll match two
colors together the same as I'll match two tones together."
He tells a story
uniquely as a soloist and composer, and he's inspired many musicians through
the years. But what sometimes bothers Henderson is when others imitate his strokes and
his colors, but don't name the source. He heard a popular tenor saxist a while
ago and was staggered. "I heard eight bars at a time that I know I worked
out. I can tell you when I worked the music out. I can show you the music when
I was putting it together. But when guys like this do an interview they don't
acknowledge me. I'm not about to be bitter about this, but I've always felt
good about acknowledging people who've had something to do with what I'm
about. I've played the ideas of other people—Lester Young, Charlie Parker, John
Coltrane, Sonny Rollins, Lee Konitz, Stan Getz — and I mention these guys
whenever I do an interview. But there are players who are putting stuff out as
if it's their music and they didn't create it. I did."
He's nonetheless
happy these days and amused about some of the excitement about Lush Life, that
the new album, like every new album from Joe Henderson, feels like a comeback.
"I have by no means vanished from the scene. I've never stopped playing.
I'm very much at home in the trenches. I'm right out there on the front line.
That's where I exist. I've been inspired joining the family at Polygram in a
way I haven't been inspired in a long time. I'm gonna get busy and do what I'm
supposed to do."
Special thanks to Greg Chapman for recovering this issue
Of all
the saxophonists that I would like to interview, Joe Henderson
has been at the top of my list for sometime. Since he resides
in the San Francisco Bay Area, I was able to ultimately hook up
with him in spite of his extremely busy touring schedule. I've
known Joe personally for quite a number of years and have listened
closely to his music even longer. Hearing him on record, and in
person with the likes of Horace Silver, Freddie Hubbard, Bobby
Hutcherson, Herbie Hancock's remarkable sextet, and his own groups,
Joe has proved to be among the most inventive players in jazz.
His sound and concept reflect the history of jazz saxophone, yet
introduce a logical extension. I
had the opportunity to hear Joe's new band at Oakland's Yoshi's
Nightspot. Shortly thereafter, we met at his spacious home in
San Francisco and covered a wide range of topics, including his
earliest influences, his new band, his teaching methods, and his
feelings on new and old saxophones. So, I consider it a great
honor to present to readers of Saxophone Journal, the man best
known as 'The Phantom,' the great Joe Henderson. To me you're one of the last of the great
saxophone innovators. You have a style that many have tried to
emulate, but there's not been anybody as original as you in succeeding
generations. These things don't just fall out of the sky and hit
people over the head, it comes from somewhere. I would be interested
in knowing who your influences were. I know you've been playing
like this since you were a youngster. That's very interesting. It's difficult for
me to blow my own horn (no pun intended). I got out of the military
in August of 1962 and moved to New York in September or October.
I started making records in the latter part of 1963. Prior to
that I was born in a little town called Lima Ohio, which is about
125 miles from Detroit. I have nine brothers and five sisters,
which is really a huge family. I remember one of my brothers,
in particular, who is a scientist, had this Jazz At The Philharmonic
collection. He was a jazz buff and it was very important and good
for me to have been around that early on, because before I started
to play the saxophone, I knew what the saxophone was a supposed
to sound like. I heard a bunch of people like Lester Young, Illinois
Jacquet, Coleman Hawkins, and Wardell Gray. Lester was probably
the first influence that I could single out. There may have been
others that are not clear, it's hard to know where and when these
influences start. But I do remember taking some Lester Young solos
off a record with the help of my brother. This was around age
nine. Well, I wasn't doing it myself, my brother was helping me,
having the kind of mind he had. It used to amaze me later how
he was able to do that at that time. We had those 78 rpm records,
so he'd take the needle, set it down on the record, and say, "Joe,
play these notes," and he'd let about four or five notes
go by, and I'd find them on the horn. You know, the one that Prez
called D.B. Blues, it became very famous later. So, I learned
that and I tried to imitate that sound. Pretty soon I could keep
this in my mind and my fingers could remember where they should
be. I remember that as being the first solo I was able to take
off a record. So, Prez, as it turns out, was probably the
first person that I was conscious of influencing me. I had been
listening to Rhythm and Blues, and I had gone through that generation.
I was always around Country and Western music as well. I know
as much about Johnny Cash as I do about Charlie Parker, because
I grew up in that area. This was all we heard on the radio. Sometimes
I could dial in these far off stations, like in Chicago, where
I would hear something just a little more musical. A little more
similar to the records that my brother had in his collection,
and I liked this. I knew that this was bebop, and I could differentiate
that. I spent most of my time listening to bebop, and that was
what I appreciated most, so this is what I gravitated toward when
I started developing and getting a few things together about playing
the saxophone. I was still quite innocent, it was like a toy at
that point. When I got a little older I would go out to
these dances that they would have in my home town. When James
Brown, B.B. King, Bo Diddley, Chuck Berry, and these cats would
come to my hometown, I'd be there at those dances and I'd be checking
out the saxophone players. They all had saxophones; two or three
tenor players, a couple of baritones. And later James Moody would
come to town with his bands. His stuff was a little more refined
with his four horns. He'd have like a trumpet, trombone , baritone,
and tenor or alto or flute. He played all the doubles. I can remember
I saw 'Trane at a couple of these dances. When I was about fourteen
years old he came there with the Earl Bostic band. At that time
Bostic was playing tunes like Flamingo, and a bunch of
tunes that he made hit records of. I saw a lot of people who came
to that town, who ten years later from that time, would be known
as jazz personalities. But, they spent their time paying their dues
travelling around in this Rhythm and Blues circuit. I didn't know
that guy was John Coltrane, who I had seen and had talked to and
met when I was about fourteen years old. I also saw Gene Ammons
when I was about fifteen. He was the 'Red Top" guy. You know
this tune My Little Red Top? Yeah, that was classic stuff.
Good music. So, my tastes became a little refined later on. So, my information and my knowledge is growing
because I'm starting to buy records and starting to hear people
like Stan Getz, Herbie Steward, Stan Kenton, Woody Herman, and
Duke Ellington. All this stuff was having more meaning. And all
at the same time I was listening to Bartok, Stravinsky, and Hindemith
because of my one sister's tastes. I didn't know who Stravinsky
was, but I knew I liked the music that I heard. Later I started meeting other musicians in
town, who started showing me things. I'm learning tunes, my vocabulary
is growing in terms of tunes that I had memorized, and I'm playing
dances around town. So, I'm getting into it very innocently. If
I made a couple of bucks playing a dance, that was big money for
me. But the information that I was gathering at that time was
the thing that served me well later. I was getting a chance to
play the saxophone at a time when this was what I should be doing.
Nobody had to tell me "Joe, go in and practice your saxophone."
I just did this. Earlier on, I started writing tunes. When I
was about fourteen or fifteen years old, I wrote my first composition.
That tune was recorded on a Bluenote record, the very first record
I did. It's one of the tunes that I get the most recognition for
and it's called Recordame. When I first wrote it, it had
a Latin flavor to it. But when the Bossa Nova came out I changed
it to fit that rhythm, which meant that I changed a couple of
phrases around. I don't know where it all came from, but I've
always personally suspected that I don't have an identifiable
sound as a player. I shouldn't be allowed an opinion of my own
stuff, I realize that. It's hard to appraise your own work. To
hear this come from you is very important to me, as I'm sure to
the people reading this article. And to learn that, wow, you mean
he doesn't know that either? You just don't know because you can't
be a critic and a player at the same time. It really is hard to appraise your own work!
Earlier on I wanted to be one of the greatest interpreters of
music that the world has ever seen. If somebody put music down
in front of me, I wanted to be able to interpret this music better
than the writer. I also wanted to be a player of ballads. I really
liked to play ballads, as ironic as that might be. Many times
when I play it's kind of a frantic situation. You made your mark in what was called the
'hard bebop' post-bop era. It was a harder style to play, the
Bluenote style. The whole gang of East Coast players that were
really putting that style down. That's what I came up with. I'm
about five years younger that you, so I came up behind that listening
to you, and a whole bunch of other folks out of that era. That was a great era. There was a bunch of
musical people around during the time that I was fortunate enough
to have been associated with in the studios and on some gigs.
I started to pick up the dice and roll them a bit, taking some
chances with a few notes. Even at that time I didn't think I would
have played something that wasn't musical or didn't fit the context
of what was happening with the music. After I had been in the military, been to Detroit
and to college in Kentucky, I went to New York. I went to New
York when I was about twenty-five. Naturally, when you first get
to New York there's these people who try to pigeonhole you by
saying, "He sounds like this, always sounds like that, etc.'
There were some people that heard me who said, "I've been
hearing this guy since he was fourteen years old and he's always
sounded like that.' This is even before some of the people they
said that I sounded like emerged onto the scene. Far be it for
me to defend myself and say I don't sound like that. If they say
I sound like that, well then maybe I do. This was a crucial time.
How do you defend yourself in a situation like that? The writers
and musicians needed to hear that I was original and always had
been. Their mouths dropped open. Maybe I've been developing something
that's fairly uniquely my own for a long time, but you're not
aware of this stuff, you simply play. I've been a person who enjoys
playing the saxophone, making music, writing melodies, writing
compositions, and doing arrangements of minor importance for big
bands and orchestras. But I never try to rate myself in any kind
of way. I let other people do that. I agree. I have read reviews that said you
sounded like John Coltrane, etc. To me you always sounded like
Joe Henderson. You have an iconoclastic style that sets you apart
from other players. You're not consciously trying to emulate,
yet you have influences that are very obvious. I can hear Charlie
Parker, and I can hear Prez in your tone. You do not play in the
Coleman Hawkins big brash style. In addition to this, I hear a
lot of individualistic harmonic ideas that nobody else played
at that time, or since. I'm curious, did you study with Larry
Teal? I sure did, for about three years. I also went
to Wayne University for about five years. The year I got drafted
I changed to Wayne State University. A lot of musicians went through
that school. Yusef Lateef was there, Donald Byrd, Kenny Burrell,
Hugh Lawson (we were in some classes together). Yusef and I were
also in classes together. He was much older than I, going back
to school, and taking a couple of courses as a non-matriculated
student. We used to study together. Yusef was zooming and he was
light years ahead of me in terms of understanding it all. In the
next semester it dawned on me what the teacher was trying to run
down in the first semester. From about that point on I understood things
in the present instead of it being a delayed situation. There's
a point where you understand the information as they're running
it down to you, and there's a point where you've got to do a little
research and then you understand it. Then when Yusef and I studied
together I was ahead of him. I remember feeling good about that,
but I also felt good about being able to help him understand the
things he didn't understand. Therein lies the genesis of me understanding
myself as a teacher. I was in this environment that was about
bebop. We learned every Charlie Parker tune that was every written.
There was so much music that came through at that time. Fortunately,
my radar was working and I was absorbing everything. I started
understanding things like chord inversions where you don't have
to play chords from the root up all the time. You can start from
the 5th or the 6th or the 7th. As long as you know what the root
feel is about you can turn things inside out taking this combination
of notes and stack them up any number of ways. What I hear in your playing is that you
play intervals that go beyond the 13th. When you stack up intervals
and play the 13th, you get all the hip sounds like the sharp eleven,
and flat and sharp ninths. But, say you take a C13, where you
have a C, and you might have a Bb, a D, an E, and F# and an A.
You can go up and play a C13 oil top of that and it will work.
You'll play an F natural on top of that and it will work. When
you're not playing bebop kinds of lines, I hear you play some
heavy arpeggios running through and across and around, sideways,
all kinds of ways, but it seems to me you're playing intervals
that go beyond the 13th. I've heard things in that zone. This stems
back from some of the non conventional sounds and combinations
of notes that I first heard through Bartok and Stravinsky. I started
to understand chords, chord movement, and chord classification
in one set of chords; where it all came from and where it goes
from there. Having a sense of composition has served me well,
and also having a rich sense of rhythm, and a desire not to repeat
stuff. I consider it one of the worst sins a musician could possibly
commit, to play an idea more than one time. You've got to keep
changing things around, keep inventing, and especially when you're
making records. I came into it thinking of change being a constant
thing. I can remember going onto the bandstand after being around
Detroit for a few years, and consciously getting my brain to start
phrases on different notes of the bar, with a different combination
of notes, and a different rhythm. I developed the ability to start
anywhere in the bar and it lent to a whole new attitude of constant
variation. I would start with the first bar, not starting it on
one but starting it on the 'and' of four or the 'and' of three,
with a series of sixteenth notes with several triplets. I would
let the first four bars take care of themselves until we got to
the fifth bar, and start that at a certain point of the rhythmic
structure of the bar. Then I'd start something in the seventh
bar. What I was developing was a sense of not falling into that
habit of playing the same things all the time. We are creatures
of habit anyway so its easy to fall into them. You practice early
on so that habits don't form which have to be dealt with later,
like bad fingerings that you have to clean up later. Those are technical processes, but you're
also talking about creative musical processes. Instead of always
following the same mental path you can evoke a different process
whenever you want to. Everybody wants your formula. How many students
have come to you and said, 'Joe, what are those patterns?' And those are the kind of students I don't
take. I want to effect the part of their brain to create these
things. When you think about this in a certain way, there is no
formula. What they hear as a formula is actually
something you created spontaneously out of all of the resources
that you have at your command. The way I teach is memory plus improvisation.
I generally don't allow tape recorders at the lesson, although
I will bend on that as it's so much a part of things now. In terms
of them understanding what their creative faculty is supposed
to be about, they don't need a tape recorder. We'll travel as
far as their brain can go during a lesson. There's so much printed
material around, fake books, etc., and I don't remember using
those kinds of things. These things tend to become crutches. I
learned the tunes. I've seen people come up on the bandstand and
before I call count the tune off I'm hearing people turning these
pages (laughter). Night after night they're still trying to find
this song. I really wish they would understand that the mind will
absorb the music in its time. You can't overload it. There's so much that can enter into learning
songs. Your emotional state and why you like a particular song. One can get involved in all those aspects and
make it more meaningful when they play. Teaching allows us to
plant some trees, and to keep the art form alive. The information
that was passed on to us helped us to enjoy the planet a little
more through our music. You recently had a new, young, all female
band. Would you talk about them? These people are young in years, and on a certain
level, in their experience. Irene Rosnes is the pianist and came
to New York from Vancouver, Canada. The drummer is Sylvia Cuenca
and is from San Jose. I've known her since she was sixteen. The
bassist is Marlene Rosenberg from Chicago and is twenty-eight.
Now the level of experience of the pianist, for example, is far
beyond her age of twenty-five years. We've all been to Europe
three times and will go again. We've enjoyed a great deal of success
out there. These are talented people and they are doing precisely
what they should be doing. They're growing. The impression I got is that you're allowing
them the space to learn and absorb from a master, and the experience
of playing and traveling together. Somebody has to provide that when you consider
their level of talent, so they can perfect their craft. I plan
to record something soon with Blue Note. Although the uniqueness
of the group gets a lot of attention, I'm not trying to make a
social political statement or the like. I found them very complimentary to your
sound. You can be an aggressive player but your sound texture
is generally of a softer nature, and their accompaniment is really
quite suitable. But I have to say that your bassist plays as hard
as any I've ever heard. I've been on the bandstand with women before
and there's some things I do notice. It's probably a situation
that has to do more with experience than anything else. Jack DeJohnette
sat in with us in Paris and he brought that 'manhood' to the stand.
I thought that I would miss that, and maybe I had been missing
that all along. But Sylvia came back and played the way she had
developed with us and it was fine. I really feel its the experience
that makes the difference. Mainly, men have been drummers and
bass players. We've always had women piano players. They aren't
trying to be men on their instruments. I have experienced with
other women, however, a kind of going overboard to try and assert
the Yang part of themselves, more so than necessary, to the point
of abandoning their own delicacy as women. I worked with a pianist
who would do this and I would mention it in a real professional
way that she was neglecting that part of her nature. You were telling me that you received more
notoriety for this group than anything you've done in the past. In Europe they were coming at me with a battery
of microphones and cameras. Once they hear the music, they are
convinced. The writeups haven't focused primarily on the fact
that they are ladies, but they can't avoid it either. At this point in our conversation we got
into a discussion about vintage Selmer saxophones, sparked by
Joe's recent purchases of a 56,000 series Mark VI This was necessitated
by the loss, by theft, of one of his saxophones which was later
returned by one of his students. Also, the ultimate destruction,
by fire in an automobile accident, of his original 54,000 series. A guy called me from Dallas who knew I would
be coming through with the George Gruntz big band. I called him
back and he said he had two Selmers to show me. When I got there
he had them laid out in the dressing room. I had no idea that
this was the vintage horn I'd been looking for. When I picked
one up and played it, I couldn't believe how well it played. When
my previous horn was destroyed, after twenty-six years, I thought
it could never be replaced. It's such a great story how that
horn came back to you through Hafez Modir, who we were both teaching
at that time. I'll never forget him coming into his lesson and
telling me about it. Hafez was totally innocent. He simply came
over for a lesson. About half an hour into the lesson he asked
me to try his horn and check his low B. Usually I play piano and
assign lines, a more "here and now approach." I really
didn't want to do what he was asking, so I tried to steer him
away from that by giving him more demanding material. But, he
had the right kind of persistence. So, after hanging on the ropes
about another half an hour I said, 'look man, give me the horn.'
I went upstairs and got my mouthpiece and soaked up my reed, and
started to play this horn. There were some thing that only I knew
about that identified the horn. There was a screw right next to
the octave key that would work its way out from time to time and
would jab me in the finger. I had it filled down. As I was playing,
these things began to come through. I was sitting there talking
to myself and thinking, 'man, this is my horn!' I didn't want
to give the student the impression that I had flipped out. But,
after about fifteen more minutes he wanted it to be my horn. He
called it a case of "the son coming back to the father."
I exchanged another Selmer with him for my original horn. Apparently
it had been purchased a year and a half earlier by a young lady
in New York, and I had neglected to keep track of the serial number.
If I had known approximately what the number was I could have
gotten to a similar horn sooner. Someone once asked me whether
or not I felt there was something "magical" about Selmers.
I had to say there certainly was something magical about this
particular vintage, but I feel their more recent horns have lost
that quality. After my original horn was stolen I needed a new
one. I was speaking with Selmer's engineers and discussing what
I felt were problems with the Mark VII, which was the horn that
no one knew I was playing. Johnny Griffin told me he had one for awhile
but took it back because his clothes kept getting caught in the
keys. Their answer was, "the kids want it."
I realize these people are busy in their labs trying to develop
new ideas, but please keep making that original product which
so many people were happy with. They had Super 80's for me to
try and that's what I've been playing until now. I'm sure it would
be profitable for them to put out an instrument that sounds and
feels good to the player. The Japanese are becoming very competitive
in the musical instrument business. I talk to saxophonists all
over the world, like myself, who are seriously questioning the
quality of the new instruments. After all, our survival is depended
on this. Do you have any final comments? I'm in constant search of new information and
ideas, and I want to make the best of this short time that we're
out here on this planet living this nebulous thing called life.
And I want to plant a few trees along the way and nurture some
minds and watch them grow, as people did for me.
Joe Henderson: Lotus Blossom (from Lush Life, 1992)
Joe Henderson is sitting at a press conference in Carnegie Hall,
New York, patiently answering another dumb leading question. Someone
among the contingent of journalists has just asked this legendary
tenor saxophonist -- who turned 57 this week -- why it has taken so
long for him to be recognised. Henderson smiles wanly and with the humility that has been his
hallmark says maybe it was best he didn’t get acknowledged up until
recently - perhaps God thought, “If I give it to him early, his
head will swell up." There is a ripple of laughter around the room, then Henderson,
realising the intensity of the Eastern European interviewer, adds,
“But seriously . . .” and embarks on a bland answer. Another question comes his way: what does Joe think of the Verve
label? It’s about the third time the question has been asked and
this time the collective groan from other journos flown in from as
far afield as Japan, New Zealand and Europe shuts the question down
dead. This is the 50th anniversary salute to the Verve record label, the
label to which Henderson signed two years ago, and the shy, bearded
saxophonist is just one of the star-studded panel which includes
Herbie Hancock, Betty Carter, young trumpeter Roy Hargrove, Antonio
Carlos Jobim and guitarist Kenny Burrell. Yet of all these,
Henderson, of worryingly fragile and birdlike frame, is attracting
the most attention. That's what winning Grammy Awards does for your profile. Suddenly
- after a lifetime in jazz - Joe is an overnight sensation for
soundbite television and print journalists after a quick quote. Henderson smiles warmly but, gentleman though he is, he deserves
better. He possesses, in the heading of a recent profile in the
influential jazz magazine Downbeat, “The Sound That Launched a
Thousand Horns”, has a career that dates back 30 years, has been
the consummate sideman on albums which featured jazz musicians as
influential as pianist McCoy Tyner, drummer Elvin Jones, trumpeters
Lee Morgan and Freddie Hubbard . . . The list goes on and Henderson's CV is crammed with the stuff of
jazz legend. But more important for present purposes is his
commercial success. In an art form where commercial success without artistic
compromise is a rarity, Henderson has pulled it off. His Verve
biography ludicrously overstates the case when it claims he is “the
most celebrated jazz artist of the past 25 years”. But there is no denying sales of 100,000 for his Verve debut Lush
Life; The Music of Billy Strayhorn in '92 (his first Grammy and
scooping multiple awards in Downbeat) or the even more successful
follow-up, So Near, So Far; Musing for Miles of last year which
pulled in Grammies for best jazz instrumental solo and best jazz
instrumental performance. Henderson's name was again at the top of Downbeat and Billboard
readers and critics’ polls, and from New York‘s Village Voice and
Times through USA Today to the Grand Rapids Press and the Cleveland
Plain Dealer, his was the album that hit all the “best-of-the-year”
lists. Thirty years after topping the Downbeat poll as a “talent
deserving wider recognition," Joe Henderson was solidly placed
at the top of the Billboard' jazz sales charts. A star. Jazz success, however, can be easily won -- Kenny G, for instance
-- but it usually doesn't sound like jazz. Kenny G, for instance. But Henderson‘s albums are unmistakably jazz, crafted in the
classical framework and tradition. He plays on both recent albums with small groups (Wynton Marsalis
appears on Lush Life, guitarist John Scofield on So Near, So Far) and
the consistency of his vision has been reinforced by the reissue of
some of his earlier albums in the wake of his current success. The German label MPS recently reissued his 1980 album Mirrormirror
and there is the magnificent four-disc box set The Blue Note Years
which gathers together 36 tracks (mostly from the influential period
in the Sixties). All are testament to Henderson's unswerving musical integrity, his
ability to play jazz without resorting to cliche or filibustering
solos and to his deep immersion in the various threads of jazz
throughout the decades. That sagging shelf of awards, trophies and
plaques is much deserved. And he has often - like Miles Davis, with whom he once played very
briefly - worked with younger musicians. “l like being with the ones who have done their homework,” he
says once free of the dumb leading questions. "They deserve to
be heard. They have to study the craft and take the music seriously.
It’s not just getting up and looking hip on the bandstand; the
music comes first and everything else comes after. "There was a point where it seemed if you packaged it right
and put it in the marketplace in the right places, whether it was
ready or not, it seemed to be acceptable," he adds, referring to
the Eighties when record companies went on signing sprees looking for
the new Wynton Marsalis. “Verve has at least moved away from that attitude and put some
integrity back into the music. I'm happy to be recognised the way I
have over the past year and a half, but I don’t do this for the
recognition. I do it because it’s what I'm supposed to do on this
planet, I enjoy what I do and I try to project that so the audience
gets a lot of happiness. "But we have to look at the whole picture. Miles [Davis]
influenced this whole movement, just as Lester Young and others
before did. And all those who never got recognised. I don’t
appreciate them any the less for that [lack of recognition]." What this late career success has meant, however, is that writers
and critics, most of whom should know better, are writing Henderson
up as the last survivor of his particular generation of jazz artists.
Henderson is far too modest and knowledgeable to suggest that. He sees himself as part of a tradition and his two Verve albums,
the first a homage to the songwriter who for 30 years worked with
Duke Ellington, the most recent a respectful nod to Miles Davis, were
both projects he refers to as replanting the trees. But this sudden flurry of attention for the albums, his invitation
to play at the Clinton Inaugural Ball, a South Bank Show profile,
numerous print interviews and sell-out live performances have cast
Joe Henderson of Lima, Ohio, as some Anthony Hopkins of jazz -- the
one who has always been there in workmanlike and creditable roles but
has only lately been accorded his due for carefully crafted albums on
his new label. Hence the question: "What do you think of Verve, Joe?" As the press conference winds down, Henderson takes his leave,
grabs a salad off the amply stocked side-table and settles into a
chair while television crews pursue Herbie Hancock for a soundbite.
He seems delighted to be able to talk about music and, as his manager
observes later, “You don’t get a five-minute interview out of
Joe". He is a gracious and generous talker, and a gentleman who is
candid enough to admit the success now means he can get a good seat
in a restaurant. He exchanges a few words in Spanish to a Mexican
television crew and, like most jazz musicians who have found second
homes in France,can make small talk in French.
He has recorded in Japan, brought Afrocentrlc ideas to two famous
albums in the Sixties (Black Narcissus and Power to the People, both
with a hard political agenda), on the cusp of the Seventies spent six
months in the jazz-rock band Blood. Sweat and Tears (which he hated –
too repetitions, too many limos and too little music) and is now the
elder statesman of the melodic, mature and confident sound of
post-Davis bebop and ballads. Joe Henderson has come a long way but he remembers it all. "I had no input into that Blue Note compilation because I'm
now signed to this other company,” he says, "but I take my hat
off to them. They did a beautiful job. I had a two-hour interview
flying between LA and Nice with the guy who did the liner notes and I
was surprised, as he was; just how much I could remember. “When he was asking questions. the recording sessions seemed
like they'd happened the day before. But because they were so long
ago - the first one came from my first recording in 1963 - I can now
be objective about them." Henderson's recall easily encompasses his first paying gig in New
York City. He'd previously studied at Kentucky State University for a
year and spent four years at Wayne State in Detroit where he played
alongside multi-instrumentalist Yusef Lateef and trumpeter Donald
Byrd. During two years in the military he spent time in France where he
met jazz expatriates Bud Powell and Kenny Clarke. On his discharge in
'62, he settled in New York and hooked up with a bassist from
Detroit, Bernard McKinney, who showed him the ropes. "I didn't know anything about the city but three months later
I was working my first gig and at the end the guy says, ‘Here Joe,
here’s your money.' It was $10 . . . and that went a long way in
’62. I’d gotten out of the military in August, so the gig would
have been in the Fall. There weren’t a lot of people there, but
just the fact I'd been hired for a gig in New York! I couldn’t
believe it and I’ll never forget it.” Within months Henderson was playing alongside trumpeter Kenny
Dorham on a Blue Note recording session -- another coup, given that
label's special place in jazz of the period. His own Blue Note debut,
Page One, was recorded in mid-1963 and Henderson was on his way. He played on 30 albums by others and recorded seven under his own
name during that exciting decade of jazz where there seemed to be few
boundaries. Vying for eartime in the jazz community of the time were
the sounds of free jazz -- spontaneous improvisation which took as
its starting point Ornette Coleman’s Free Jazz album of 1960 -- and
straight ahead hard bop. There was Third Stream with its classical
influences, the Afro-driven spiritual sounds of John Coltrane,
restrained experiments with time signature by Dave Brubeck and his
acolytes building on his Take Five album of '58 . . . A broad freedom of expression was available in the jazz
vocabulary. And Henderson says he misses it these days. “I’ve done some free things because there’s a part of me
that is a bit of an iconoclast and was especially so at that time.
Part of the spirit then was just to reject all that stuff like bar
lines and key signatures. We didn’t want to know about it. “So part of the thing then was just to get up on the bandstand.
I became a little self-conscious about people coming in with their
own music and parts written out for everyone to play and totally
displacing what others might want to bring. I just said, ‘Let's
play' and didn’t want to interfere by even suggesting a title for a
tune. “We'd just start playing and see what came out of it. We'd be
able to deal with it and figure out afterwards what we did. It was
such an interesting time and I don’t understand why that spirit
didn’t have a longer life. "People like Albert Ayler [the seminal avant-garde tenor
player who died in 1970] aren’t around any more, of course. But
Ornette still is, although he’s much more traditional and
conservative than he was . . . and I‘m surprised by that. I was
asking someone just a week ago, ‘Whatever happened to ...’ and a
whole list came out of people who were connected with that free
movement who just seem to have evaporated ir vanished. "Today there doesn't seem to be too much interest in that
free spirit of jazz where you just play and you don’t have to have
gone to this or that university to ensure we all know similar things
so we can make music together. “That idea of saying, 'If you play saxophone, come on up and
we’ll figure out something’ seems gone now," he concludes
ruefully. Doubtless that spirit of spontaneity was crushed in the Eighties
by what has become known as the “neo-conservative” movement which
had as its figurehead hot trumpeter Wynton Marsalis, whose insistence
on the correct, respectful attitude to the music often took on the
appearance of a political dogma. Having sat out the Seventies after his Blood, Sweat and Tears
encounter as a low-profile jazz player, Henderson steadily worked his
way back to the forefront in a series of trio recordings during the
neoconservative Eighties. As one who was there for that particular jazz the first time
round, he is surprised and saddened at the attitude of these younger
musicians whose market profile he hinted at it whose music often
doesn't match the claims made for it. “I'm just surprised they seem so easily satisfied,” he says,
shaking his head with a bewildered smile. “They are satisfied just
to become the clones of the musicians of the previous generation.
They only want to be as good as that. In the Sixties we were
interested in pushing back those boundaries and adding something new
and coming up with ways and undiscovered avenues of interpreting and
improvising. “We were young and excited by the possibilities - but today so
many younger musicians appear to be satisfied with just being as good
as the previous generations. "I don't understand that spirit. I'm used to a much more
dissatisfied climate out of which comes some great melodies and works
of art oftentimes. “The state of the art recording now is at a high level, although
some things about it haven’t really changed as far as my ear is
concerned. Sure, it’s gone from analogue to digital, so now it's
nothing for these young musicians to have their music in stores right
alongside the masters who are the mentors and influences. But how
could it be that you would put something out which isn’t quite as
good as that - but maybe just sounds better? “I simply don’t understand that.” If the neo-cons have been lining up to pay homage to those mentors
and influences – notably Duke Ellington (in the case of Marsalis
and his followers) and the early Miles Davis - then so, too, are many
of the more mature musicians tipping their berets towards Henderson. Dumb leading questions by interviewers notwithstanding (“What do
you think of Joe Henderson?" directed to trumpeter Roy Hargrove.
Answer: "Well, he’s always been recognised by musicians . .
."), Henderson cops acclaim whichever way he turns. Guitarist John Scofield - one of the finds of the Eighties who
didn't fit the neocon mould calls him “the essence of jazz” who
embodies “all the different elements that came together in his
generation: hard-bop masterfulness plus the avant-garde." Branford Marsalis considers Henderson “one of the most
influential saxophone players of the 20th century" and young
pianist Stephen Scott, who plays on Lush Life, notes: "Joe uses
so much space when he plays and, as a piano player, you have to learn
to play in the cracks so that you won’t get in the soloist's way.
Joe starts in the cracks!" Respect from peers has always been more important in jazz than
Grammles and critics' polls -- welcome though they may also be. Tenor saxophonist Joe Lovano, himself a musician like Henderson
who swam against the neo-con tides of the Eighties, offers the most
telling tribute to a man whose particular path has been unique in a
music that is by definition individual and unique. “He's always had his own voice,” says Lovano. "He's
developed his own concepts with inspirations of the people he dug but
without copying them. I hear Joe in other tenor players. I hear not
only phrases copped from Joe but lately I hear younger cats trying to
cop his sound. That's who you are as player: your sound. “It's one thing to learn from someone, but to copy his sound is
strange. Joe’s solo development live is a real journey - and you
can't cop that! He’s on an adventure whenever he plays.” But it’s an adventure with the attendant pitfalls of success at
this point. For a musician whose career spans the breadth of jazz
expression, he has latterly become known for his two most recent
tribute albums using the music of others. He is scrupulous about according those musicians their due, but
the question remains: Where's Joe going with this? "I’m thinking about another album right now,” he says
thoughtfully, "but we haven't settled on how we want to approach
it. If it’s another tribute, well, I’d have to say that formula
has worked well for me. “They are great projects - Lush Life and Musing for Miles
couldn’t have been better, just beautiful music regardless. But if
I did another it would definitely have to be the last and I'd make a
l80-degree turn because there is such a danger in being typecast. “And I’ve done so many different things in jazz over the
years. “People say to me, ‘Look, that was all right - but we want to
hear your music now.’ I get that more often than anything else
these days. And when you‘ve had the success I`ve had recently, you
have to plan things out a little more. Unfortunately you can't just
go out there like a carefree spirit any more and have at it like you
used to." He offers a broad smile and the lines around his eyes etch in
deeper. Not like you used to? “Yeah,” he laughs. “That's what success does for you!” Joe Henderson's next album for Verve was in fact a tribute
to Antonio Carlos Jobim (who also appeared at the Verve festival in his
last live performance), and he also released his interpretation of
Gershwin's Porgy and Bess. He died of heart failure due to complications
from emphysema in 2001.
So many tenor saxophonists who came of age in the 1960s adapted heavily from both Sonny Rollins and John Coltrane, but none exceeded the success that Joe Henderson had in forging his own inimitable style from two such familiar influences. Henderson’s “inside-outside” approach was nuanced enough to bring vitality to tender ballads and abrasive enough to set more dynamic songs afire. First making an impact as a member of Horace Silver’s Song for My Father quintet, Henderson also appeared on such other notable records as Lee Morgan’s The Sidewinder, Andrew Hill’s Point of Departure and McCoy Tyner’s The Real McCoy, just to name a few from early in his career. Many of Henderson’s own records of that time were of nearly equal quality: the Blue Notes from Page One to Mode for Joe, and the following Milestone era that produced such great works as Tetragon, Power to the People, and live In Japan. Despite his outstanding recordings, Henderson spent much of the next couple of decades sharing roughly the same status to most jazz listeners as, say, Curtis Fuller or George Coleman: a talented and valuable Blue Note sideman. That finally started to change in the fall of 1985, when a pivotal live performance helped Henderson achieve in the jazz public’s mind the lofty standing that his playing had already earned more than 20 years earlier. The Verve years of the 1990s, with tributes to Miles Davis, Antonio Carlos Jobim and Billy Strayhorn, cemented his legend and belatedly brought him the commercial returns scant few who toil in uncompromised jazz enjoy. And if anything, that’s perhaps Henderson’s overarching accomplishment: stubbornly sticking to his undiluted approach, he nudged the boundaries of hard bop when he could have effortlessly pursued the crossover success that most of his contemporaries sought. Instead of Joe Henderson finding an audience, the audience found Joe Henderson. He died in 2001 at age 64 and at peace in knowing that he had persevered.
The following 12 selections provide a representative cross section of Henderson’s work as a leader, in varying settings, eras and song styles. Since most of his artistic fulfillment occurred in the 1960s, there’s a preponderance of selections from that period, with a notable performance apiece from each of the three succeeding decades.
Despite his outstanding recordings, Henderson spent much of the
next couple of decades sharing roughly the same status to most jazz
listeners as, say, Curtis Fuller or George Coleman: a talented and
valuable Blue Note sideman. That finally started to change in the fall
of 1985, when a pivotal live performance helped Henderson achieve in the
jazz public’s mind the lofty standing that his playing had already
earned more than 20 years earlier. The Verve years of the 1990s, with
tributes to Miles Davis, Antonio Carlos Jobim and Billy Strayhorn,
cemented his legend and belatedly brought him the commercial returns
scant few who toil in uncompromised jazz enjoy.
And if anything, that’s perhaps Henderson’s overarching
accomplishment: stubbornly sticking to his undiluted approach, he nudged
the boundaries of hard bop when he could have effortlessly pursued the
crossover success that most of his contemporaries sought. Instead of Joe
Henderson finding an audience, the audience found Joe Henderson. He
died in 2001 at age 64 and at peace in knowing that he had persevered.
The following 12 selections provide a representative cross section of
Henderson’s work as a leader, in varying settings, eras and song styles.
Since most of his artistic fulfillment occurred in the 1960s, there’s a
preponderance of selections from that period, with a notable
performance apiece from each of the three succeeding decades.
As the title advertises, "Blue Bossa" is bossa nova with blues
overtones. An eminently catchy tune (even non-jazz fans recognize it),
it's Kenny Dorham's rightful entry into the jazz standards canon. In
original form here as the first track from Joe Henderson's debut album, a
strong composition is given strong treatment. After the two horn
players state the theme in unison, Dorham takes the lead, restating his
theme with a succession of rapid-fire tremolos that sound like he's
playing his trumpet behind an electric fan. The rest of the way, he
stays close to the theme in a clean and relaxed manner. Henderson's
ensuing solo introduces his warm tenor from the Sonny Rollins school,
finding notes that aren't always obvious but always fit. Foreshadowing
his affinity for Antonio Carlos Jobim's music, Tyner already sounds
right at home with the Brazilian form. Warren makes his own solo
statement concise.
"Blue Bossa" introduced the world to Joe Henderson in fine fashion. This
classic piece remains the place to start for discovering the treasure
trove of Henderson's body of work.
Like its more recognizable album mate "Blue Bossa,"
"Recorda Me" is bossa nova at its core. However, this Joe
Henderson-penned tune boasts a shiftier rhythm underneath and busier
thematic lines out front. Another difference is that Henderson leads off
the soloing this time, and it's here that his careful phrasing and
modulation of intensity testify to his tenor mastery. Kenny Dorham
contrasts nicely by holding his notes where there might be spaces.
Tyner's own lead shows off a little bit of his familiar detached,
right-hand arpeggios before a horn line signals the transition back to
the head.
"Recorda Me" became a longtime staple in Joe Henderson's live
performances and has been covered by acts as diverse as the fusion
supergroup Steps Ahead and avant-garde giant Anthony Braxton. This early Henderson composition has stood the tests of both time and presentation quite well.
With its variable beats and hot bop lines, "Our Thing" could be considered something of a precursor to the better-known "The Kicker,"
which Joe Henderson would record the following year with the Horace
Silver Quintet. But even more than with the song he lent to Silver,
Henderson tests the limits of hard bop with "Our Thing."
The time signature changes from double-time to a leisurely gallop and
back again. The main theme that rides on this rocky rhythm might be a
gauntlet for most horn players to negotiate alone, much less in perfect
unison with another musician as Henderson and Dorham do here. Henderson
swings superbly on his solo, and Dorham lays down some Clifford
Brown-type phrasing before turning matters over to Hill and his rhythmic
precision.
"Our Thing" shows Henderson the composer constructing complex harmonics and tempos, even near the beginning of his career.
Like many of Joe Henderson's songs, "Punjab" is the kind of modern
jazz composition that arose in the wake of harmonic innovations
introduced in Coltrane's Giant Steps and Miles's Kind of Blue.
There's a lot of root movement in the thematic line declared by
Henderson and Dorham. While the tune is a blues at its core, it's a
longer form than the standard 12 bars. But since it's still the blues,
Henderson sounds right at home, producing an endless wellspring of
articulations that employ both lightning-fast arpeggios and easygoing,
rhythmic phrases, all gliding over a melody with strange chord changes.
And oddly enough, it's a melody that's hard to shake once it gets inside
of you. "Punjab" succeeds in making the complex simple to digest.
"Inner Urge" is a hard-swinging vehicle for a torrid blowing
session. Joe Henderson lined up Coltrane's pianist and drummer (as well
as Rollins's bass player) to back him, just nine days before Trane's two
sidemen joined their boss (and bassist Jimmy Garrison) to record A Love Supreme.
Clearly Henderson was seriously intent on showing he could measure up
to two of his primary tenor influences, and doesn't disappoint.
Henderson's two solos here are extended, but he keeps things flowing by
liberally mixing pleasantly tuneful passages with exciting, turbulent
ones. Cranshaw and Tyner also sparkle during their turns. Elvin Jones,
however, nearly steals the show with peerless, thunderous polyrhythms
that rank among his better drum solos on record.
As a supremely confident saxophonist already running out of things to
prove at this stage, Henderson again upped the ante with "Inner Urge."
Cedar Walton is no minor composer, but he may have reached the
pinnacle with "Mode for Joe." Chords gracefully ascend and descend, and
optimal use is made of spacing and timing. The expanded horn ensemble
along with Hutcherson's vibes gives the song the elegant heft it
demands, without being too large to play nimbly.
This song isn't perfect just because Walton scored it flawlessly,
though. "Mode" is a signature Joe Henderson performance as well. In the
midst of the call and response between Henderson and the rest of the
front line, the leader shocks the listener by inserting some rough,
dissonant lines that he repeats precisely as played the first time. His
solo that follows is likewise a mixture of cool, precise phrasing with
loosely conceived statements punctuated by coarse honks.
Like the great painter Picasso, Joe Henderson combines the odd with the beautiful to create something oddly beautiful.
"Tetragon" is a modernized bebop tune, with the head demonstrating
Joe Henderson's flair for imaginative chord progressions. This time,
it's a series of descending chords and a start-stop melody that gives
the song distinction. Another distinction is Henderson's sheer speed in
running through scales even through chord changes. While he had the
ability to modulate brilliantly between hot and cool from one phrase to
the next, it's almost all hot blowing in this instance, and it's top
notch. Henderson gets some solid comping from Kenny Barron, who was just
starting to come into his own around this time. The pianist steps out
shortly thereafter into a fine solo, followed by Ron Carter's blues
walking on his standup bass.
Though inspired largely by postwar jazz, Joe Henderson's blues-based "Tetragon" is a timeless display of artistry.
"Waltz For Zweetie" provides a contrast from the more advanced
compositions that Joe Henderson was then tackling. The inaugural
recording of Walter Bishop's tune casts the tenorman in more
conventional 3/4 time, showing off his knack for the sweet, romantic
style that waltzes typically call for. The piece is also more
democratic, as Friedman's impressionistic stylings get fully articulated
and Carter's bass work is outstanding in its range and lyricism. The
leader himself solos last, steadfastly in the Rollins tradition and
making excellent use of space. "Waltz For Zweetie" hasn't been covered
much since, which is a shame. It's got a light, buoyant melody that's
memorable. In any case, it would be hard to beat Joe Henderson's
rendition.
Jazz was changing rapidly as the '60s turned into the '70s, and Joe
Henderson was present for much of it; he participated in Freddie
Hubbard's Red Clay and Herbie Hancock's Fat Albert Rotunda,
after all. But while Henderson was open for electric instrumentation in
his own work, he also steadfastly refused to commercialize his music.
Henderson's first departure from an all-acoustic format as a leader came
in the guise of a beautiful tone poem he wrote called "Black
Narcissus." The only plugged-in instrument may have been Herbie
Hancock's Fender Rhodes, but it was critical in giving the song a warm
glow. Combined with Ron Carter's delicately plucked high notes, the song
has an ethereal soundscape upon which Henderson quietly drops his
notes.
"Black Narcissus" is less about Henderson's considerable sax skills than
about his acumen in sketching atmospheric pieces. As far as those go,
this is one of his best.
In the early '70s, Joe Henderson had Monk's most celebrated tune at
least semi-regularly in his live rotation, as evidenced by its
inclusion in At the Lighthouse, recorded almost a year earlier. This time, however, there's no trumpet player, and Henderson allows himself to stretch more.
And stretch he does. Starting the song unaccompanied, he combines trills
with trips to the altissimo register, playing coyly and summoning up
Coleman Hawkins. Never in this a cappella performance does
he lose track of the melodic line. As the local backing players enter
three minutes later, Henderson glides right into the groove. Hino is
playing with an ear close to what the leader is doing, and Inaba is rock
solid. Ichikawa doesn't shrink from the challenge of following
Henderson, bringing much humanness to his electric piano.
Joe Henderson could spin magic no matter what he played, where he played, or with whom he played.
"Isotope" first appeared on Joe Henderson's 1964 album Inner Urge,
but this version is of special interest because of the way he
deconstructs the tune down to the root. In the 1964 version, he played
the advanced bop thematic line in unison with a piano. This 1985 version
takes the piano out of the equation, leaving it up to the remaining
three to fill in the void left by the absence of a comping instrument.
Luckily, he's got Ron Carter to help out. Carter finds the crucial notes
for filling out the melody on the bottom end, while Henderson performs
that task for the higher registers while simultaneously blowing out
quick arpeggios and other expressions. Foster keeps a beat at about
double-time the original, adding his accents in appropriate spots to
prod along the other two.
"Isotope" was a long-time staple in Henderson's live performances; it
was only fitting that he included this in his pivotal performance at the
Vanguard. It was a firm signal to the world that through changing
tastes in jazz he remained the same old Joe he'd always been.
Joe Henderson was not just a great composer and technician, he was
also a fine interpreter of standards. You can find examples of that
throughout his career, but it was the major focal point of the final
recording period of his life during which he recorded for Verve.
The first Verve project tackled the lofty music of Ellington cohort
Billy Strayhorn, using varying band configurations. Right at the end of
the record is Henderson alone scaling the most magnificent of Strayhorn
compositions, "Lush Life." The melody flows from his horn without any
equivocation, the transitions between shapes are effortless and the
phrasing is creative but never too cute.
Joe Henderson's flawless solo presentation of "Lush Life" is the kind of
performance that only a first-ballot Hall of Fame tenor player can
give.
Joe Henderson (April 24, 1937 – June 30, 2001) was an American jazztenor saxophonist.
In a career spanning more than four decades, Henderson played with many
of the leading American players of his day and recorded for several
prominent labels, including Blue Note, Milestone, and Verve.
By age 18, Henderson was active on the Detroit jazz scene of the mid-1950s, playing in jam sessions with visiting New York City stars. While attending classes of flute and bass at Wayne State University, he further developed his saxophone and compositional skills under the guidance of renowned teacher Larry Teal at the Teal School of Music. In late 1959, he formed his first group.[3]
By the time he arrived at Wayne State University, he had transcribed
and memorized so many Lester Young solos that his professors believed he
had perfect pitch. Henderson's college classmates included Yusef Lateef, Barry Harris and Donald Byrd.[4] He also studied music at Kentucky State College.
Shortly prior to his army induction in 1960, Henderson was commissioned by UNAC
to write some arrangements for the suite "Swings and Strings", which
was later performed by a ten-member orchestra and the local dance band
of Jimmy Wilkins.[3]
Early career
Henderson spent two years (1960–62) in the U.S. Army: first in Fort Benning, where he competed in an Army talent show and won first place, then in Fort Belvoir, where he was chosen for a world tour, with a show to entertain soldiers. While in Paris, he met Kenny Drew and Kenny Clarke. Then he was sent to Maryland to conclude his enlistment. In 1962, he was finally discharged and promptly moved to New York. He first met trumpeter Kenny Dorham, an invaluable guidance for him, at saxophonist Junior Cook's place. That very evening, they went to see Dexter Gordon playing at Birdland. Henderson was asked by Gordon himself to play something with his rhythm section; he happily accepted.[3]
Although Henderson's earliest recordings were marked by a strong hard-bop influence, his playing encompassed not only the bebop tradition, but R&B, Latin and avant-garde as well. He soon joined Horace Silver's band,[1] and provided a seminal solo on the jukebox hit "Song for My Father".
After leaving Silver's band in 1966, Henderson resumed freelancing and
also co-led a big band with Dorham. His arrangements for the band went
unrecorded until the release of Joe Henderson Big Band (Verve) in 1996.
In 1967, there was a brief association with Miles Davis's quintet featuring Herbie Hancock, Wayne Shorter, Ron Carter and Tony Williams,
although the band was never recorded. Henderson's adaptability and
eclecticism would become even more apparent in the years to follow.
Milestone Records recordings
Signing with Orrin Keepnews's fledgling Milestone label in 1967 marked a new phase in Henderson's career.[1] He co-led the Jazz Communicators with Freddie Hubbard from 1967 to 1968.[1] Henderson was also featured on Hancock's Fat Albert Rotunda
for Warner Bros. It was during this time that Henderson began to
experiment with jazz-funk fusion, studio overdubbing, and other
electronic effects. Song and album titles such as Power to the People, In Pursuit of Blackness, and Black Narcissus reflected his growing political awareness and social consciousness, although Black Narcissus was named after the 1947 Powell and Pressburgerfilm of the same title.
After a brief association with Blood, Sweat & Tears in 1971, Henderson moved to San Francisco.[1]
He was still signed to Milestone Records, which had recently moved to
San Francisco after being acquired by Fantasy Records. Henderson wanted
to be near his label, and get out of New York City. Henderson lived in
San Francisco for the rest of his life, and taught at the San Francisco
Conservatory of Music from 1978-1982, according to musicologist Joel
Geoffrey Harris. A performance space at the San Francisco Jazz Center is named for him.
Later career and death
Though he occasionally worked with Echoes of an Era, the Griffith Park Band and Chick Corea,
Henderson remained primarily a leader throughout the 1980s. An
accomplished and prolific composer, he began to focus more on
reinterpreting standards and his own earlier compositions. Blue Note
attempted to position the artist at the forefront of a resurgent jazz
scene in 1986 with the release of the two-volume State of the Tenor recorded at the Village Vanguard in New York City.[1] The albums (with Ron Carter on bass and Al Foster on drums) revisited the tenor trio form used by Sonny Rollins
in 1957 on his own live Vanguard albums for the same label. Henderson
established his basic repertoire for the next seven or eight years, with
Thelonious Monk's
"Ask Me Now" becoming a signature ballad feature. Following his brief
return to Blue Note Records, Henderson was signed by the Italian label
Red Records, for which he recorded two more albums in the piano-less
trio format.
In 1991, Verve records signed Henderson to the label. In January of that year, Henderson had made a guest appearance on Stephen Scott's Verve album Something to Consider,
and worked with Verve producer and vice president Richard Seidel during
the session. Henderson and Seidel had first worked together in 1979
while making Henderson's Relaxin' at Camarillo
album. After Verve expressed interest in signing Henderson, the
saxophonist had to quickly complete his existing contract with Red
Records, which he did by recording The Standard Joe in March
1991. Seidel said in a 2016 interview with musicologist Joel Geoffrey
Harris that he decided to offer Henderson a record deal after hearing
him perform live at Fat Tuesdays in New York. Seidel served as producer
on all five of Henderson's 1990s Verve studio albums. Verve adopted a
'songbook' approach to recording him, coupling it with a considerable
marketing and publicity campaign, which more successfully positioned
Henderson at the forefront of the contemporary jazz scene. His 1992
'comeback' album Lush Life: The Music of Billy Strayhorn was a commercial and critical success and was followed by tribute albums to Miles Davis, Antonio Carlos Jobim, a big band album, and a jazz adaptation of the George Gershwin opera Porgy and Bess.
A chain smoker,[5] on June 30, 2001, after a long battle with emphysema, Henderson died, in San Francisco, California, as a result of heart failure. He was 64 years of age.[6]
Kofi Natambu, editor of and contributor to Sound Projections, is a writer, poet, cultural critic, and political journalist whose poetry, essays, criticism, reviews, and journalism have appeared in many literary magazines, journals, newspapers, and anthologies. He has written extensively about music as a critic and historian for many publications, including the Black Scholar, Downbeat, Solid Ground: A New World Journal, Detroit Metro Times, KONCH, the Panopticon Review,Black Renaissance Noire, the Village Voice, the City Sun (NYC), the Poetry Project Newsletter (NYC), and the African American Review. He is the author of a biography Malcolm X: His Life & Work (Alpha Books) and two books of poetry: The Melody Never Stops (Past Tents Press) and Intervals (Post Aesthetic Press). He was the founder and editor of Solid Ground: A New World Journal, a national quarterly magazine of the arts, culture, and politics and the editor of a literary anthology Nostalgia for the Present (Post Aesthetic Press). Natambu has read his work throughout the country and given many lectures and workshops at academic and arts institutions. He has taught American literature, literary theory and criticism, cultural history and criticism, film studies, political science, creative writing, philosophy, critical theory, and music history and criticism (Jazz, Blues, R&B, Hip Hop) at many universities and colleges. He was also a curator in the Education Department of Detroit’s Museum of African American History. Born in Detroit, Michigan, Natambu currently lives in Berkeley, California with his wife Chuleenan.