Money Jungle: In His Solitude

I used to think of 1962 as Duke Ellington's great period of collaborations. And why not? He did, after-all, complete an extraordinary late summer putting together studio works with Coleman Hawkins, Charlie Mingus and John Coltrane respectively - themselves follow-ups on his Louis Armstrong and Count Basie team-ups from '61. I formulated this nice, tidy little theory a few years ago not realising that Ellington was always working in collaboration with someone and, particularly, between his own compositions and his arrangements and his arrangements. Ironically, this period of supposedly frenzied partnerships resulted in the only true solo album of his entire career.

Listeners accustomed to the spotlight being placed on Johnny Hodges or Ben Webster or Clark Terry or Cat Anderson may find it odd to discover that the star of the show is Ellington himself. After decades of composing and arranging for his famed Orchestra - not to mention the many small groups he worked with over the years - it's nice to get the feeling that he might have had himself in mind while composing and arranging the numbers here. Charlie Mingus and Max Roach do a fine job backing Ellington but that is all they're there for: bass solos are kept to a minimum and you just about don't even notice the drumming on some tracks. Ellington plays with a supple lightness in places ('Fleurette Africaine', 'Warm Valley'), a furious, demented pounding of the ivories in others ('Caravan' on which he sounds like Cecil Taylor playing in an Old West saloon) and a wonderful mix of the two elsewhere ('Wig Wise' which also features some of the best bass playing of Mingus' career, no wonder Rhino decided to include it on their Thirteen Pictures compilation). Only on a worn though pleasant 'Solitude' do you get the feeling that he's treading water, particularly when compared to the masterful renditions on both The Great Summit and Duke Ellington Meets Coleman Hawkins. Nonetheless, I get the feeling that he chose it - as well as fellow standards 'Warm Valley' and 'Caravan' -as a tribute to himself and his rich legacy.

A vanity project in the best possible sense, Money Jungle is ample evidence that Ellington could go it alone and thrive. The fact that he spent the bulk of his life putting the solo spotlight on his employees when he could have easily put it on himself speaks volumes about his musical generosity and the fact that he waited until his mid-sixties before embarking on a solo project indicates it was a low priority. How grateful we should be, then, that for once he decided to collaborate with himself.

Pre-Bird: Mingus Revisionism

It must have been fun to try and predict just what Charlie Mingus was going to do next. While a comedy record (Oh Yeah) probably seemed inevitable and a tribute to south of the border debauchery (Tijuana Moods) would have surprised no one, what about a blues-soaked response to charges that he didn't swing enough (Blues and Roots; I'm sure Mingus being mixed-race had nothing to do with these criticisms)? Or the waltz of a newly freed slave (The Black Saint and the Sinner Lady)? Or revisiting compositions that pre-date one of his biggest influences? In a catalogue defined by erratic, unruly recordings, the decidedly traditional Pre-Bird remains one of Mingus' standouts, though not always in the best possible sense.

Probably because he was always going on about seeing his shrink (see his autobiography Beneath the Underdog as well as the liner notes to The Black Saint and the Sinner Lady), I can't help but take a pyschoanalytic approach to Mingus' actions and motivations. What could have brought on such a project? Did he feel caught in the shadow of Charlie Parker, Dizzy Gillespie, Bud Powell? Did he have this need to prove that he was always a noteworthy figure? Much as I want to think that Mingus' sole concern was to honour the jazz tradition, I can't help but see this album as a vanity project, one meant to soothe his notoriously fragile ego.

But what does all this say about the music? The compositions themselves are impressively old school swing, paying such an obvious debt to Duke Ellington that it would be apparent even without the two covers ('Take the "A" Train' and 'Do Nothin' Till You Hear From Me') but it often seems a little too buttoned down for such a wild band leader - though, to be fair, the more restrained pieces are among the album's highlights (the lovely 'Half-Mast Inhibition' is said to be entirely scored). Only on 'Mingus Fingus no. 2' does it feel like he managed to successfully merge his own creativity with an Ellingtonian backdrop. Elsewhere, his own touches seem tacked on, such as his Asian-derived bass flourish on 'Weird Nightmare' accompanied by the flutes of Eric Dolphy and Yusef Lateef - which seems like a nice idea if only it suited the material.

The irony is that Mingus unwittingly pays as much tribute to Parker's influence as Ellington's on Pre-Bird. His compositional talents were a given but swing failed squeeze him out of his shell. Without the rise of bop in the mid-forties it's impossible to imagine the bassist's unbroken string of first rate albums stretching from Pithecanthropus Erectus all the way to The Black Saint and the Sinner Lady (and this is if, like me, you're not crazy about the latter's follow-up Mingus, Mingus, Mingus, Mingus, Mingus, which many critics rate alongside his best work). Stuck in the middle of such an extraordinary discography, Pre-Bird is an unpredictable (or should we say 'Mingusonian'?) work, occasionally bogged down by the presence of one hero and the absence of another.