Irascible yet funny and warm, a high school dropout yet very
well-read, Joe Pass had more than his share of personal contradictions.
Cigar chomping and adorned with a bristling moustache that hardly
compensated for his baldness, he may have looked like a longshoreman
or truck driver, but his music eloquently spoke of his brilliance
as a world-class guitarist, one who ultimately commanded the respect
of many of jazz' top figures. Given his awesome technique, competitive
spirit, ability to shape long lines in a group context, and jaw-dropping
approach to solo guitar-where he freely wove walking bass lines,
sleek chordal passages, and deft single-note phrases into rich
musical tapestries-he easily qualifies as the most versatile player
in the annals of jazz, and arguably was the greatest mainstream
guitarist since Wes Montgomery.
But despite Pass' prodigious talents, his career was slow to
start. Born in Brunswick, New Jersey, on January 13, 1929, he
picked up the guitar at nine and was urged to practice by his
father, who was both stern and frequently ill. An accomplished
player at 14, Joe was unable to take advantage of an opportunity
to go on the road because he was too young, although he toured
with a few groups and performed in New York after dropping out
of tenth grade. Exposed to heroin by the time he was 20, so began
a more than 10-year period during which he "lived in the
dark corners of society, wasting time, going nowhere."
Arrested numerous times and on one occasion spending nearly
four years in a government institution, Joe still managed to make
an impression with his playing. By the late '50s, word of his
formidable abilities seeped into small guitar and jazz circles.
However, it wasn't until 1963 when he emerged drug-free from Santa
Monica, California's Synanon rehabilitation program and started
to record for Pacific Jazz that his career got on track.
Based in Los Angeles, Pass issued a handful of musically successful
but hardly profitable albums (Catch Me, For Django,
Simplicity), and played with a host of well-known musicians,
including Les McCann, Richard "Groove" Holmes, Bud Shank,
Johnny Griffin, George Shearing, and Chet Baker. Like many jazz
players in the '60s and early '70s, he resorted to the relatively
stable but artistically unfulfilling life of a sideman and studio
musician, which led him to gigs like subbing for Herb Ellis on
the Merv Griffin Show ("That was one hell of a sub
to send in," adds Herb) and playing on movie soundtracks
like Shaft In Africa ("Seeing him try to work a wha-wha
pedal was hysterical," says studio mainstay Tommy Tedesco).
But while he easily could have remained on that path indefinitely,
change-including success that undoubtedly would have been beyond
his wildest expectations-was in the offing.
Even prior to 1970, Norman Granz-who had started a series of
small labels beginning in the '40s, consolidated them under the
Verve name in 1956, and then sold Verve to MGM four years later-had
considered launching a new record company. He finally got around
to creating the Pablo label in 1973. For assistance, he called
upon Eric Miller, promising that they were "going to make
some records and have some fun."
"Granzonia," as Miller describes Granz's approach
to recording and the associated artistic environment, was underway
again. Like before, Granz booked large blocks of studio time,
which enabled him to not only issue as many as 30 albums per year,
but also record his musicians in various musical settings-frequently
within the span of a few days. Unconcerned with the technical
side of recording and favoring impromptu dates, he generally took
a more conceptual approach that focused on presenting and challenging
an artist in perceptive ways that he personally found interesting.
And while Pablo featured many of the figures he had been associated
with in the past (including Oscar Peterson, Duke Ellington, Ella
Fitzgerald, Dizzy Gillespie, and Count Basie), unlike some of
his previous labels, which issued work by several guitarists,
it focused on a single, then relatively unknown, player: Joe Pass.
"Granz was high on Joe even before 1970," Miller
explains. "If Norman liked someone or something, he just
went ahead. He didn't care about the financial success. He marketed
his records in much the same way, letting the music sell itself.
One example was Pablo's black and while covers, which were basic
on one hand, but striking on the other. On one occasion, Ella
Fitzgerald had her driver take her to Tower Records, where she
learned that none of her albums were in the store. Norman said
he'd take care of it, knowing that for the kind of music he was
recording, those things really didn't matter. After all, stores
ordered only two or three copies, although the records did sell
forever. In the end, he was right, and Pablo was very successful.
The situation was ideal for a guy like Joe, because it removed
the struggle of making money and put him in a musical setting."
(The following covers this collection's material only; Pass participated
in many other Pablo sessions.)
1973. Joe's first experience with Granzonia threw him
into a session that resulted in the album Duke's Big 4,
with Duke Ellington, Louis Bellson, and Ray Brown. Brought into
Duke's presence unannounced, Pass later commented, "Somebody
could have at least introduced me to the cat." And as if
the date wasn't pressure enough, a film crew was on hand to document
the proceedings. But Joe managed to play masterfully, despite
the circumstances. The blistering tempo of "Cottontail"
must have taken him aback a bit, evidenced by his somewhat hesitant
phrasing. Nevertheless, he spontaneously doubles the head with
the piano, and then launches into a smoking chorus. Ellington
expressed his approval of Joe's playing by giving him considerable
room to blow throughout the session.
Soon thereafter, Pass and Herb Ellis independently recorded
a series of duets, issued on Pablo as Two For The Road.
Long-time acquaintances, they had first gotten together at Donte's
(the well-known musician's hangout in North Hollywood), recorded
two albums for the Concord label, and performed together frequently.
Here, their first track is Luiz Bonfa's "Samba De Orfeu,"
played at a fairly quick tempo. Joe takes the opening solo and
comes out blazing, exhibiting his bebop influences. Despite the
title, there's nothing backwards about "SEULB," a grooving
12-bar blues workout with the dazzling tandem interplay that Joe
and Herb were known for.
An example of Granz' uncanny ability to pair artists, Take
Love Easy for the first time combined Pass' brilliant abilities
as an accompanist with Ella Fitzgerald's pure yet soulful timbre
and amazing control. Despite the fact that there were no rehearsals
and the transparent setting was challenging in its own right,
the participants hit it off from the start. Throughout the album,
Joe alternated between electric and acoustic instruments; however,
on "You Go To My Head" he opts for a nylon-string acoustic,
framing Ella's voice with lush harmonies and tasteful single-note
fills, creating an intimacy that would age like fine wine over
the years to come. And to think that some critics had said that
Ella couldn't sing anymore.
Having already been in the company of two legends-Ellington
and Fitzgerald-Pass walked into the most important, pivotal dates
of his career, ones that would result in his seminal solo album,Virtuoso.
The sessions were based on the same concept Granz had used in
1953 for Art Tatum's Clef recordings: call a multiplicity of tunes
and give the artist his head, with the idea of realizing new creative
heights. In the case of Virtuoso, where a total of 40 or
50 songs were committed to tape, the idea paid off in more ways
than one.
Pass' genius as a solo guitarist was largely unknown prior
to Virtuoso, and the eye-opening way in which he spontaneously
interwove diverse elements had never been realized so definitively.
"Night And Day," with its extended introduction, shift
to tempo, and subsequent development, set the tone of the entire
set. Along with the remainder of the album's material, "Here's
That Rainy Day" and "Have You Met Miss Jones" offer
further evidence that there was almost no limit to Pass' ideas
or ability.
Catching the wave of popularity that the guitar enjoyed at
the time, Virtuoso outsold virtually every other item in
the Pablo catalog-a phenomenon that surprised many and made Granz
particularly happy for Joe's sake. Perhaps more importantly, it
permanently established Pass as the premier mainstream jazz guitarist
of the time. (Technical Note: Although the original idea was to
mix the guitar's acoustic and amplified sounds, Pass' amplifier
failed partway through the session, leaving only the miked acoustic
signal on tape. His indifference to technology and to his own
sound in general continued to vex producers for much of his career.)
Issued in 1983, the material that appeared on Virtuoso #4
came from the original 1973 dates. In the case of a lesser artist,
unused performances might be considered leftovers; however, here
they further document what arguably remain the most significant
sessions in the history of solo jazz guitar. While the brief liner
notes mention that the music was exclusively played on acoustic
guitar, "Indian Summer," an exquisitely rendered free-flowing
ballad, features amplification and was apparently captured before
Pass' amp cut out. In contrast, both "Lush Life," which
in places displays seamless moving harmonies, and "Weaselocity,"
a greasy slow blues that gradually achieves an easy-going tempo,
are purely acoustic from start to finish. "Weaselocity,"
incidentally, appeared as a bonus track on the 1993 CD version.
1974. Joe's first Pablo as leader resulted in Portraits
Of Duke Ellington, with Ray Brown and Bobby Durham. While
some musicians are better suited to the role of sideman, Joe proved
to be a capable leader-in part suggested by the fact that he apparently
remained in charge despite Brown's tendency to take over a session.
(One story has Brown telling Duke Ellington the chord changes
to one of his own tunes!) From the outset of the ballad "Do
Nothing 'Till You Hear From Me," guitar and bass fit together
like hand in glove, establishing a gentle, swinging pulse that
gives Joe a chance to play lyrically one moment and craft long
lines the next, frequently working the blues into his solo.
Oscar Peterson, a demanding leader who gravitated toward outrageous
tempos, in all likelihood provided Pass' greatest musical challenge.
"You could drop Joe into any situation," Miller adds.
"Some guys aren't made that way, but he wanted to compete.
Competition can cause the light bulb to go on. Even though he
may have often been in awe of his surroundings, his motto was
always 'I can do that.'"
Joe's first encounter with the imposing Peterson was issued
as The Giants, the source of "Riff Blues," which
is rife with hot phrases and spontaneous group interaction. "The
tunes were called on the spot, so it was very exciting,"
Miller says of the date. "Joe was ready, and you could see
where he and Oscar would eventually evolve to. On the second day,
Oscar looked back at Ray Brown and asked, 'Is that the bass you
had yesterday? It sounds different.' Ray explained that he had
just come from the Merv Griffin Show with his workaday
instrument. 'Get the good bass,' Oscar responded.'"
While all of Pass' Pablo sessions were live in a sense, with Joe
rarely indulging in more than three takes of any given tune, his
first truly on-site recording was The Joe Pass Trio Live At
Donte's. During one of Granz's many trips out of town, Pass
had called Miller with the desire to record at his old home away
from home, saying, "I hear something. I want to record with
Hughart and Severino. But what if Norman doesn't like it?"
Miller's reply: "What's he going to do, ship you back to
New Jersey?" At the club, the format was loose, resulting
in a series of extended performances-typified by "Stompin'
At The Savoy," which finds Pass grooving hard over several
choruses. One of the two solo pieces Joe played that night, "A
Time For Love" is fluently rendered with seamless, sleek
chordal passages and single-note lines before it shifts to a gentle
groove where he exhibits his typically sophisticated harmonic
approach.
1976. In addition to being the most recorded solo jazz
guitarist in the annals of jazz, Pass participated in a wealth
of duos-another byproduct of being immersed in Granzonia. On the
three tracks from Fitzgerald & Pass . . . Again, documented
over the course of two sessions in early 1976, Joe wields a nylon-string
acoustic. His solo on "You Took Advantage Of Me" has
a loping, stride piano feel. "All Too Soon" and "I
Didn't Know About You" settle back down to ballad levels
and demonstrate the generous allotment of space that Ella typically
afforded him. "She was particularly excited to be working
with Joe on this date," Miller adds. "You could see
it in her face."
A bit different from Joe's first solo outing, Virtuoso #2
concentrated on more modern tunes, although it included two original
blues and two chestnuts-categories that are all represented here.
Normally played at breakneck speed, "Giant Steps" gets
a relatively free, easy-going treatment that establishes a Latin
groove at one point. "Misty" is approached in Joe's
typically brilliant manner, beautifully harmonized in moving chords
interspersed with fluent single-note phrases. Funky but swinging,
"Blues For Basie" appropriately combines a down-home
flavor with moments of sophistication that include a brief foray
into double time.
1977. Moving even further afield but still remaining
within the parameters of the Virtuoso concept, #3 was devoted
to Pass originals, including several somewhat experimental pieces-an
idea that may have originated with Granz. Regardless, the two
selections herein are relatively conventional, reflecting Joe's
overall mainstream leanings. "Passanova" begins with
a Latin pulse, but then walks and swings in sophisticated fashion
according to his whim at the moment. In contrast, "Sultry"
is an enticing ballad, freely realized at points with rippling
arpeggios that give it a complex beauty closer to that of a piece
written for classical guitar than an improvised jazz number.
1978. Sarah Vaughan was a long-time friend of Norman
Granz'; their association reached back to 1946's Carnegie Pop
Concert Series. She and Joe had worked together before, her smoky
tone and distinctive phrasing providing a nice contrast to the
style of Ella Fitzgerald. While Peterson, Bellson, and Brown also
participated in the session for How Long Has This Been Going
On?, Vaughan and Pass go it alone on "My Old Flame,"
an intimate, soulful pairing that includes a beautiful rubato
guitar solo.
By 1978, Pablo had been in existence for only five years; however,
Granz had already cast Joe in a wide range of challenging settings.
But other ideas had been contemplated, including an album with
strings that was ultimately sidelined for budgetary considerations.
Another project that never came to fruition was a joint effort
with classical guitarist John Williams, who had long expressed
interest in such a collaboration. In that case, it was Joe who
expressed reluctance, saying, "Look, I'm not going to practice
and he can't play 'Sweet Georgia Brown,' so what are we going
to do together?" One concept that did see the light of day,
however, was Tudo Bem!, a Brazilian outing with Paulinho
da Costa, Octavio Bailly, Claudio Slon, Oscar Castro Neves, and
Don Grusin.
While Joe was the headliner, da Costa-perhaps the busiest Brazilian
musician in Los Angeles at the time-for all intents and purposes
co-led the date, where he held reign over the other musicians.
Never one to hide his feelings, Joe indicated that he would have
liked a little more studio time and felt that the mix was bass
heavy, although the results were gratifying overall. Taken at
an decidedly bright tempo, "Barquinho" demonstrates
his awesome technique and ability to shape long, fluid lines,
while the more relaxed "Gentle Rain" finds him spinning
out one beautiful phrase after another as Castro Neves tastefully
supports on nylon-string.
1978 also marked a milestone in Pass' artistic growth, evidenced
by his work with the Oscar Peterson Trio. "Once Joe got into
that league and discovered the dynamics were very different from
playing with the guys at Donte's, that it was serious stuff, he
accepted the challenge and brought something with him," Miller
states. "Good things especially happen in a live setting,
where there is nowhere to hide. Joe's work with Oscar Peterson
was the zenith of that. Barney Kessel used to say how he'd get
up and practice every day before playing with Oscar, thinking,
'I'm ready.' Then the first set would start and it's 'I'm not
ready.' So the dynamics of Joe with Oscar was the real test."
The Paris Concert, with Peterson and Niels-Henning Orsted
Pedersen, arguably contain some of Joe's most exciting moments
on record-in a variety of settings. "Gentle Tears,"
a tender Pass original, and "Lover Man" demonstrate
his unprecedented talents as a solo guitarist. Locked onto Oscar's
tail from the outset of "Ornithology," he picks up on
a rhythmic motif at the end of the piano solo and takes it into
new territory.
"Samba de Orfeu" and "Donna Lee," both
duets with Pedersen, feature some interesting instrumental combinations.
On the former, Niels renders the melody while Joe comps; on the
later, they double the head, eventually catapulting Joe into a
dizzying solo. The full trio tackles "Sweet Georgia Brown,"
which jets along at a tempo practically beyond measure, demonstrating
the empathy that developed between Pass and Peterson over the
years. "Oscar was a star," Miller reflects. "On
one occasion in London, he stepped into a limo, leaving Joe and
Niels to wait for a taxi. So they were very aware of the hierarchy.
Still, Oscar should be given credit for giving Joe so much space."
A month after the Paris concert, Pass and Pedersen recorded
Chops, an outgrowth of their roles in Oscar Peterson's
trio. Originally in 4/4, the duo plays "Lover Man" in
3/4, a creative twist that results in some gorgeous melodic work
by Joe, and intricate polyphony between bass and guitar. In contrast,
"Tricrotism" salutes its author, the great bassist Oscar
Pettiford, with a doubled head, detailed interplay, and swinging
choruses by both participants.
1981. One of the prerequisites of being a jazz musician
is knowing a wealth of material. While Joe's command of the repertoire
was impressive-he infrequently recorded the same tune more than
once-Jimmy Rowles' knowledge was practically legendary. In early
1981, they put their heads together, producing Checkmate.
Although the album's title suggests an element of competition,
they cooperate throughout "As Long As I Live," which
finds Joe soloing nonplused as Jimmy occasionally ventures into
quirky harmonic territory.
The session for Ira, George, And Joe-an all Gershwin
program, another Granz concept-took place late in the year. In
addition to Shelly Mann and Jim Hughart, it featured Joe's longtime
friend and fellow guitarist John Pisano. Since Joe was notorious
for not practicing and shied away from rehearsals in general,
John often assumed the role of organizer, something that began
with their recordings together at Pacific Jazz. This date, however,
was an exception to that rule and went down with essentially no
preparation other than Granz bringing some tunes to the date.
One detail about "It Ain't Necessarily So" that sets
it apart from all of the other material in this collection is
that it features Joe on 12-string guitar-a full sounding but relatively
cumbersome instrument to manage, due to its six pairs of strings-which
causes him to play more spaciously than he otherwise might have.
1982. The sessions issued as Crazy And Mixed Up featured
Sarah Vaughan supported by a sympathetic quartet: Roland Hanna,
Andy Simpkins, Harold Jones, and Joe, who got plenty of solo space.
An eminently tasteful accompanist in a group setting-evidenced
by the two tracks here-Joe also makes a swinging single-note contribution
to "I Didn't Know What Time It Was," while he falls
back on his deep chops during the aggressive treatment of "Autumn
Leaves."
Being the sole provider of harmonic underpinning can seriously
restrain a less versatile player; however, Pass thrived on such
situations, as he demonstrated during the sessions that led to
Blues For Two. The brilliant tenorist Zoot Sims-rooted
in tradition with a rich tone and defined sense of swing, yet
capable of turning a phrase with subtle complexity-proved to be
a perfect foil for Joe's multi-dimensional abilities. On the album's
title track, Pass initially lays down a solid straight-four cushion
for Sims to blow over, before shifting to walking bass lines and
incorporating some melodic activity of his own. Jobim's "Dindi"
explores the Latin side of the spectrum; especially notice how
Joe's solo leads to the last eight bars of the head. Raising the
activity level a couple of degrees was never a problem for Pass,
who effortlessly moves from active bass lines to a fluid single-note
solo and back during "Take Off."
1983. If not easy, living had indeed become easier for
Joe. As a member of Granz' stable of artists, he was undoubtedly
making more money than at any other time in his career-all the
while playing with many of the greatest figures in jazz. It was
a unique, enviable position for a guitarist. And while working
with Ella was nothing new, their obvious enthusiasm for each other's
musical company made everything they did seem fresh, a reflection
of Joe's increasing comfort with the limelight and constant artistic
development. (Miller recalls feeling a personal sense of satisfaction
when they performed before an audience of 20,000 at the Hollywood
Bowl.) The title track from their 1983 duo album Easy Living,
recorded over the course of four sessions, proves the point with
its relaxed but confident demeanor and elegant guitar solo, which
mingles well-chosen harmonies with a simple melodic line. Short
and sweet, Joe's bluesy solo break in "Why Don't You Do Right"
bursts with minor-key energy as it seamlessly moves from a rapid
single-note phrase back to time.
1986. The first of Pass' two live solo albums for Pablo,
University At Akron Concert again was a byproduct of not
only Granzonia, but also his own versatility-a combination that
undoubtedly kept him on the road more than any other mainstream
guitarist of the '70s and '80s. Eric Miller selected Milton Nacimento's
"Tarde," played with poignant beauty, for this collection
simply because Joe especially loved it.
1988. With the sale of Pablo to Fantasy in 1987, Granzonia
came to an official end. Nevertheless, Pass continued to record
for Pablo, with Eric Miller assuming full-time production duties.
A long-time associate and fan who had seen Joe perform as early
as 1958, Miller became intent upon not only improving the quality
of Pass' recorded guitar sound, but also "filling in areas
that would be interesting for the player and the audience."
Their first album together under the new parent company was the
solo effort Blues For Fred, based on music associated with
Fred Astair. "Cheek To Cheek" finds Pass dipping into
his deep well of inspiration, coming up with a masterpiece that
begins gingerly and eventually establishes a solid groove. Equally
inventive but with a different veneer, "Blues For Fred/They
All Laughed" deviates from the usual medley format by cleverly
interweaving the two themes.
While Joe had had bluesy musical associations in the past-including
ones with Richard "Groove" Holmes, Teddy Edwards, Earl
Bostic, and even Bumble Bee Slim, most from his days with Pacific
Jazz-and was a master of the genre in a jazz sense, Miller viewed
it as an area in need of further development. "I constantly
sent him ideas about concepts, tunes, and players, but he would
pretend he never read them," he muses. "One day the
phone rang and it's Joe, who said, 'I'm in town, let's do a date.
That blues idea would really be good.'" Miller's reply: "Give
me a minute, I might have to make a couple of calls . . ."
At any rate, the session did go down, resulting in One For
My Baby (with Plas Johnson, Gerald Wiggins, Andy Simpkins,
and Tootie Heath), the source of "Bluesology," a 12-bar
groover that gives Joe a chance to tattoo one chorus after another,
and then trade a smoking series of twelves with Johnson.
1989. For Django, Pass' critically acclaimed
1964 recording, had featured Colin Bailey, Jim Hughart, and John
Pisano-associates who would be reunited more than 25 years later
for Summer Nights. "Joe had known those guys for years,
but they weren't beneath him musically," Miller observes.
"They were like four brothers; it wasn't just Joe with a
rhythm section. John again assumed his leadership role, so for
once there were rehearsals." Continuing the same theme as
before, the album focused on material by the great Django Reinhardt,
one of Joe's early influences. Penned by John, "D-Joe"
is a fast groover based on the changes to "I Got Rhythm";
especially appreciate Pass' fluency and the fact that he's playing
an an old Epiphone Deluxe acoustic that belonged to Pisano's father.
The other two tracks here were written by Reinhardt. At the beginning
of "Anouman," Pisano tremolos a chord á la Django,
supporting Joe's rendering of the lyrical head. Keying off of
the melody and with Reinhardt obviously in mind, Pass plays rapid
runs and leaping chordal tones during his solo on "Belleville."
1990. The same foursome-Pass, Bailey, Hughart, and Pisano-returned
to the studio the next year; however, instead of doing another
Reinhardt tribute, the idea was to feature tunes associated with
specific jazz musicians. Charlie Parker's "Relaxin' At Camarillo"
swings easily as Joe demonstrates his bebop expertise on acoustic
arch-top. "Tenderly," identified with Oscar Peterson,
begins as a Pass/Pisano duet, cruises along at a medium tempo
that gives Joe a chance to masterfully develop his solo, and ends
with the two guitarists engaging in a musical conversation, much
like two friends talking over dinner. "Gee, Baby Ain't I
Good To You," which Joe associated with Nat King Cole, locks
onto a subdued, almost shuffle groove that finds him in a more
down home frame of mind than usual.
1991. The most unorthodox sessions of Joe's career took
place early in the year. Miller's idea was for Pass and Pisano
to spontaneously improvise to a video collage made up of National
Geographic footage, cartoons, and movie clips. Initially thought
to be unusable, the results remained in the can until two performances
were included on Pisano's 1995 album Among Friends and
the rest was assembled for 1996's Duets-both issued on
Pablo after Joe's death. "We thought the dates were a throwaway,
that we had created a bunch of junk," John elaborates. "But
when we listened to the music later on, we realized that there
were some really nice things that happened."
In the studio, the atypical situation triggered Joe's irascible
tendencies, causing him come up with comments like "hey,
it's a bear licking itself" and insist that he "didn't
want to play this crap anymore." But after Miller's judicious
editing, what remained were some of most intimate musical moments
of Joe's career. Freely moving from standards to originals to
completely impromptu improvisations, the two guitarists mutually
supported, played against, and intermingled with each other. Joe
begins "Alone Together" by himself, but is soon supported
by Pisano's tasteful accompaniment; toward the end, listen to
how they instantaneously exchange ideas. Starting with an infectious
Pisano vamp, "Baileywick," a beautiful miniature, dynamically
rises and falls, while the underpinning to "S'il Vous Plaît"
features a syncopated bass figure for Pass to float over.
Joe's second live solo album was recorded over three nights
at Hollywood's Vine Street Bar and Grill. At one point, the mercurial
guitarist announced to the audience, "Ladies and gentlemen,
I'm tired and really don't want to play tonight." But after
some cajoling by Miller, he went through with the gig. "Eric's
Smoozie Blues," obviously dedicated to his producer, again
displays his ability to play variation after variation on even
the simplest form-apparently despite his mood at the time. Wistful
from start to finish, "Beautiful Love" perhaps reflects
his ability to channel his feelings through the guitar as he moves
from the rubato opening to a steady pulse and back again.
1992. The performances on Joe Pass Quartet Live At
Yoshi's were colored by several circumstances. Unable to make
the date, Jim Hughart was replaced by Monty Budwig, who, unbeknownst
to the group, was fatally ill. In addition, Joe had wrecked a
rental car on the way to the club one night. Most significantly,
though, by this time Joe realized he had cancer.
Grumpy at the gig, Pass insisted on playing certain tunes several
times, which led Miller to give him a note that read, "Just
play the blues or else." According to Miller, "When
he took the stage, he told the audience, 'My producer doesn't
want me to do these songs.' But after that, he began to play some
different things." One of the tunes he had done several times
was "Oleo," a "rhythm changes" variant; here,
the performance progresses from the group playing together to
a duet between Pass and Pisano. On "Blues For Monty,"
Joe tosses off one deft chorus after another.
Issued posthumously in 1994, Songs For Ellen, dedicated
to Pass' wife, represents his last Pablo sessions. Ironically,
it was the only album of his career where he played a nylon-string
guitar exclusively. "We had talked about an all-acoustic
album for years," Miller explains. "I wanted to do the
equivalent of what Norman had done with Art Tatum and Joe. We
ran tape all of the time, something I had learned to do with him
anyway. It was very satisfying."
"Star Eyes," played with gorgeous simplicity, illustrates
the intimate, warm transparence of the nylon-string guitar in
the hands of a master. Dedicated to Angel Balestier, the engineer
of this and many of Joe's other albums, "Blues For Angel"
is subtly plaintive and very different from his typically active
approach to the 12-bar form. Perhaps best representative of the
album's overall mood, "Song For Ellen" gently unfolds
its understated fabric of chords, arpeggios, and melodic passages.
More upbeat in nature yet still subdued, "How Deep Is The
Ocean?" speaks to Joe's own deep musicality-something that
is bound to last as long as there are people to appreciate it.
Today. Joseph Anthony Jacobi Passalaqua-Joe Pass-died of liver cancer on May 23, 1994. He was 65. One of jazz guitar's most towering figures, he left a recording legacy that is without parallel in terms of scope and output. His many performances not only touched countless fans, but also influenced numerous guitarists, including those he generously shared his expertise with over the years. Eric Miller, who played an important role in many of the performances featured here, speaks for all when he simply says, "I miss that guy so much." Amen.