Modern Jazz Quartet
Fontessa

Four True Martians, and Not Just as Musicians.

In the era of the Global Boor, their composure and impeccable style really seem like surreal qualities, and undoubtedly, to some, they appear as bizarre formalism from bygone times, now long gone. That rigid elegance in dressing, invariably in black tuxedo, that serious and almost somber look, like old and wise black owls, accentuated by their pointed beards, and especially their preference for the theater, the quintessential place for "highbrow" music, compared to the usual jazz venues, would have seemed like pointless snobbery to many potential enthusiasts. Yet they were simply the outward signs of an extreme demand for dignity, the same summarized in these words by John Lewis: "I am a proud African American and I wish to exalt the full dignity of this position of mine." John Lewis, a classically trained pianist (with a particular interest in Bach), sober and inclined to restraint, in short, a kind of black Bill Evans, was the brain of the quartet and the composer of most of the original pieces. However, the real star of the ensemble was Milton (known as Milt) Jackson, an extroverted vibraphonist with acrobatic abilities, Lewis's counterpart and therefore, as often happens, his ideal partner. Their perfect integration can be appreciated in the duets, magical interweaving of the delightful notes of the vibraphone, which seem to leave a silvery trail, and the more classical and stern ones, always impeccably balanced, of the piano. Also noteworthy is the contribution of the drummer and percussionist Connie Kay, who with his triangles, bells, and various accessories provided additional imaginative colors to the group's sound, far beyond his role as a rhythmic accompanist. More loyal to this task, but equally endowed with great personality, Percy Heath, a double bassist of remarkable technical value, particularly skilled in "pizzicato." In short, four talented soloists perfectly blended into a band that, not by chance, from the '50s to the '80s remained unchanged, a phenomenon more unique than rare in jazz.

Less known than other masterpieces like "Django" and "Concorde," this "Fontessa" belongs, in full, to their golden period, corresponding more or less to the second half of the '50s. The strange title, with mysterious etymology, derives from John Lewis's ambitious project: to create a suite on the Italian Commedia dell'Arte, complete with characterizations of some characters, like Harlequin, Columbina, and Pierrot. The result is indeed "Fontessa," and I leave it to theater historians to judge how well John Lewis portrayed them, while I focus on praising the musical aspect of this complex suite with a single word: perfection. That which makes the 11 minutes of "Fontessa" as light as a summer breeze, with their alternation of classical-sounding piano phrases and delightful solos of subdued jazz, at times barely whispered, with Milt Jackson taking the lead, yet without overshadowing the others. Also by John Lewis is "Versailles," which opens the album with a celestial harmony of tinkling sounds: they are the voices of piano, vibraphone, and triangle miraculously combining, without the slightest hint of a mawkish "music box effect." "Bluesology" is by Milt Jackson, and it is a clear example of how these sophisticated musicians are versatile enough to adapt even to a form of "earthly" and visceral music like the blues, which, seen through their lens, appears as a solid fabric sewn by the double bass and adorned with drumming virtuosity and delicate solos of the piano and vibraphone. But the pleasure for the ear is even more absolute in the "ballads," and fortunately, there are three in the album, even if all are by authors external to the group. The beginning of "Angel Eyes" is on the verge of hypnosis: the notes of the vibraphone seem to remain suspended in air for an eternity, and even the subsequent solos completely captivate the listener. In the classic "Over The Rainbow," the sweetness of the duets between Lewis and Jackson enhances this timeless melody as never before, by now in every respect classical music, but even the lesser-known but beautiful "Willow Weep For Me" is treated with the same care and above all with the same extreme grace. Finally, a tribute to Dizzy Gillespie, in whose band Milt Jackson cut his teeth: "Woodyn' You," which "matches" with the initial "Versailles" to aptly liven up an album extraordinarily rich in enchanted moments, but up to this point a bit stingy on rhythm. And thus, with the four phenomena not losing their aplomb even when dealing with Gillespian nervous cadences, ends beautifully an album that satisfies the most voracious ears and at the same time, after 50 years, still constitutes a perfect lesson in style.