Dexter Gordon
Ballads

The ballads represent the true test for any musician with a keen melodic sense, dealing with compositions that have a firm grip. A golden opportunity when it comes to highlighting one's expressive qualities, delineating the line of feeling without deceitful, syrupy nuances, and gifting chiaroscuros to the souls of those who listen.

This is a collection, certainly not published with the commercial intentions of celebrating who knows what, but born as if it were a small treasure chest, guardian of some of the most beautiful pearls released by Dexter Gordon's Tenor: one of the Jazz musicians with a distinct penchant for ballads. Therefore, dedicating a collection of ballads to an inspired Dexter Gordon was obvious; thus, under the supervision of Blue Note, in 1991, a year after Gordon's death, this little gem saw the light: certainly a discographic testimony that somewhat acts as a manifesto of Dexter's strong passion for ballads.

The ballads are, in a sense, the jewel in the crown of various musical fields, especially when speaking of Jazz and similar music. Many composers from Broadway's golden era allowed themselves to be involved in this splendid musical form, creating a plethora of standards that delighted crooners and jazz musicians. It was customary then to hear Jazz musicians tracing with their instruments the vocal lines of ballads sung by the crooners. The choice of tracks to include focused on the period from 1961 to 1965, except for a vibrant (thanks also to a brilliant rhythm section, with a fabulous and varied Piano like that of George Cables, a decisive Rufus Reid on Bass, and a diligent Eddie Gladden on Drums) "Body and Soul" of almost seventeen minutes, recorded at the Keystone Korner in San Francisco in 1978.

The years from '61 to '65 mark the final maturity of Gordon, the Blue Note years. So it wasn't hard to think about where the choice of tracks to include would fall. One of Gordon's most celebrated albums from the period, "Our Man in Paris," being born within Blue Note's Parisian brigade, would gift "Willow Weep for Me". "Willow Weep for Me", with its sly bluesy vein of the theme, would immerse Gordon and Bud Powell in their African American roots. The same CBS Paris studios of "Our Man in Paris" would bring from the 1964 sessions a nostalgic "Darn That Dream" from "One Flight Up," written by Jimmy Van Heusen, extracted–ironically–from a musical, "Swingin' the Dream". Gordon's enveloping and profound phrases remain constant, unaltered in their charm, pause time, and regulate passion. The loyal members of the Blue Note stable, Higgins, Warren, and Sonny Clark, reliable companions of Dexter from that period, put their mastery at the service of some of the most significant and felt ballads by Gordon: this is the case of "Don't Explain" from "A Swingin' Affair". Moving, deep, nocturnal, romantic.

Something from the famous "Go!" couldn't be missed (even if, personally, I would have chosen "Where Are You"; but, of course, one lands on their feet just the same with "Guess I'll Hang My Tears Out to Dry"), so "Guess I'll Hang My Tears Out to Dry" will raise the flag of that fantastic album. Some of the most intriguing gems of "Ballads" surely come with the entry of Freddie Hubbard on Trumpet: here the night falls again with a noir and distressed "I'm a Fool to Want You" from "Clubhouse" of 1965, reminding me of the beautiful "Harlem Nocturne". Hubbard is poignant, his crescendo entrance is chilling: almost frightening, I would say, due to the intense intensity with which he follows a splendid Gordon. The piece also features Frank Sinatra, in the role of author. Another immortal standard would see the two together again, "You've Changed" from "Doin' Allright": "You've Changed" is precious, thanks to its irresistible harmony, made even more irresistible by the vigorous complicity of Gordon and Hubbard. This impromptu overview doesn't do full justice to the record, within which there are equally deserving ballads I haven't mentioned.

You need to listen to it, let yourself be won over, even intimidated in some ways, so that Gordon takes us on an evening walk with his Sax. The cover depicts Gordon in one of the most famous photos in jazz history, taken by Hernan Leonard, and which we've discussed on another occasion with other DeJazzfans. In my opinion, besides not making much sense, it's generally not constructive to review a compilation, neither for the reviewer nor for those willing to read it, but in this case making an exception to the rule is entirely fitting; because in addition to the undisputed quality of the musicians who accompanied Gordon in the various albums, beyond the incredible quality of the tracks and the immense class of Dexter in performing them, it is a collection that stands on its own and shines with its own light, just like an excellent album of unreleased material.