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It’s
an already implausible story, this saga of Von Freeman,
the iconic Chicago saxophonist who created a unique and
captivating tenor style in the 1940s and 50s; labored
in the shadows throughout the 50s and 60s; led his first
recording in 1972 at the age of 49, a couple more in the
next several years, and then nothing more for a decade;
and who – in his 70s and playing better and stronger
than ever – began a series of albums that have made
him a cover boy in jazz magazines, a much-demanded performer
at festivals the world over, and the recipient of a mayoral
proclamation (with a street named for him), as well as
a doctorate from Northwestern University, at the age of
80.
But even in the already implausible story of Von Freeman’s
“post-retirement,” his 82nd year on the planet
holds a new surprise and delight: The Great Divide, which
matches him to a sympatico rhythm section anchored by
his contemporary, drummer Jimmy Cobb (whose resume includes
his work with Sarah Vaughan and the Miles Davis Quintet
and Sextet of the 1950s – the groundbreaking band
that recorded Kind Of Blue). The Great Divide also features
Richard Wyands on piano and John Webber on bass, and it
marks the first time since Freeman’s brief stay
in New York, in the late 1940s, that he has surrounded
himself with musicians from the jazz capitol.
The working arrangements constitute both text and subtext
for this recording. On the surface, it places Freeman
among respected peers who support and challenge him in
new ways. Chicago has its share of excellent pianists,
bassists, and drummers, and Freeman has played with most
of them; in fact, he’s helped train most of them,
at his still-running weekly jam sessions on the south
side. But familiarity can occasionally breed a certain
complacency, and jazz has always valued the opportunity
to shake things up with a well-considered “chance
encounter.”
On such tunes as “Never Fear” and “Disorder
At The Border,” Freeman responds to Cobb’s
crisp strokes and precise beat with a combination of Chicago
power and New York cool. On the other hand, the mysterious
and haunting “Chant Time” finds Cobb showering
the music with shimmering cymbals before a climactic solo
on toms; add in the subtle shadings of Wyands’s
piano (underscored by Webber’s lockstep bass), and
Freeman has an eclectically textured canvas on which to
work his magic. Meanwhile, the two long standards “Be
My Love” and “This Is Always” find Freeman
on familiar ground but nudged along different paths, as
the New Yorkers bring the Big Apple’s unparalleled
polish to the music.
And that explains the subtext, too. Throughout the album,
it is the frisson of these worlds colliding that places
Freeman’s music in a different light, and even affects
the music he makes. The “great divide” between
jazz in New York and jazz in Chicago – in fact,
between New York and everyplace else – looms in
the background. And it connects directly to the overriding
question about Von Freeman’s implausible career:
What if he had moved to New York? What if he hadn’t
remained in Chicago while his schoolmates and bandmates
– Gene Ammons, Johnny Griffin, Clifford Jordan –
headed east? Would he then have remained “undiscovered”
into his 70s? Von Freeman would tell you that he wouldn’t
have changed a thing, and many others would agree that
his sound and style developed because of where and when
and even how he has lived – that his unique approach
to the instrument might never have developed in the hothouse
atmosphere of New York. But The Great Divide raises the
issue again, and with exquisite results.
Born Earl Lavon Freeman on October 2, 1922, on the South
Side of Chicago, Von (or "Vonski," to use his
universally known nickname) grew up in a musical household
that also gave us his younger brothers George, a well-known
Chicago guitarist, and drummer Bruz, who retired from
music in the 1960s after a series of records on Contemporary
with the Hampton Hawes Trio. As a toddler, Von heard Louis
Armstrong – not in a dance hall but in his own living
room, when Armstrong (a family friend) would come to visit.
Fats Waller also visited the Freeman household. To this
day, Von will point at the beat up piano in his living
room and say, “Fats Waller played that piano.”
At age 6, Von broke the horn off his father’s Victrola,
pieced it together with a wooden mouthpiece, and started
wailing into his very first “saxophone.” His
father relented (if only to protect his prized Victrola!)
and bought young Von a real instrument; by age 12, he
was playing in a nightclub in Gary, Indiana, sporting
a large hat to cover his youthful features.
He turned down an offer from Earl "Fatha" Hines
to stay in school, where he would learn even more about
music than if he’d gone on the road with Hines.
Von attended DuSable High School, where he studied under
the famed band director and educator Captain Walter Dyett
– whose instruction and discipline Von credits to
this day. In the early 1940s, he performed with Horace
Henderson's Orchestra before heading off to the Navy –
where he took part in the “Great Lakes Experience,”
the military’s historic experiment in desegregating
the armed services through music by preparing black bands
to perform for white sailors.
Von moved to New York in the mid 40s, but he soon returned
to Chicago, where he and his brothers played in the house
band at the Pershing Ballroom, backing visiting jazz greats
that included Charlie Parker and Dizzy Gillespie; eventually,
he led his own groups, giving early exposure to rising
stars Ahmad Jamal, Andrew Hill, and Malachi Favors. In
addition, he was a founding member of the first “Arkestra”
assembled by visionary Sun Ra in 1948 (although he never
recorded with the band). In the 50s, Von built an underground
reputation as one of the city’s most accomplished
but unusual saxophonists, with a sound just as big as
you’d expect from the Chicago “tenor school,”
but displaying a radically different sonority. He also
built a reputation as one of the hardest-blowing tenor
“battlers,” and locked horns on disc with
Dexter Gordon, Willis "Gator" Jackson, Buck
Hill and Teddy Edwards.
Remaining in Chicago to raise his family, Von played in
a wide variety of venues at home – from Calumet
City strip clubs to southside blues bars to northside
jazz clubs – before establishing his ongoing Tuesday
night jam session at the New Apartment Lounge, on a block
of 75th Street renamed “Von Freeman Way” in
2002. These sessions have become a beacon for aspiring
musicians; among those to have “graduated”
(with honors) from the New Apartment are saxist Steve
Coleman, multiple-Grammy-nominated vocalist Kurt Elling,
and Von’s own son, saxist Chico Freeman. In the
last several years, Von has also enjoyed a deepening friendship
with the acclaimed young pianist Jason Moran, who appears
on his previous Premonition release, The Improvisor.
The DownBeat Magazine cover story on Von that appeared
in early 2001 helped create a new round of publicity and
excitement about this ageless wonder’s music; recent
events have included his 80th Birthday Concert at Symphony
Center, a birthday tribute at the Chicago Jazz Festival,
his honorary doctorate from Northwestern, and a Chicago
“Heroes” Award presented by the National Academy
Of Recording Arts & Sciences. The highly anticipated
release of The Great Divide will take its place among
these accomplishments.
For Von Freeman, apparently, life begins at 70 –
and really starts to move at 80. |
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