Box Set Review: Charles Mingus - Mingus Takes Manhattan- The Complete Birdland Dates 1961-1962

Charles Mingus

Mingus Takes Manhattan- The Complete Birdland Dates 1961-1962

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Stories have been told over the years, many probably growing in mythology over time, of the way Charles Mingus treated people in his band. His Jazz Workshop gigs would function more like a rehearsal than a live performance, with songs being stopped suddenly if the sound didn't meet Mingus' exacting standards. He would chew out musicians on stage. Eric Dolphy and Ted Curson, according to one story, left the legendary 1960 Mingus quartet because they couldn't take the verbal abuse - and lack of pay - anymore. A Pittsburgh musician once told me that during a residency at the Crawford Grill, Mingus fired his band on the first night, smashed his bass and played piano the rest of the week.

Nothing resembling that kind of volatility comes across on Mingus Takes Manhattan: The Complete Birdland Dates 1961-1962, a four-record limited edition (1,000) box set. Perhaps knowing that the performances were being broadcast on the radio live from Birdland, Mingus kept his cool. Or maybe he was afraid of drawing the wrath of club management or MC Symphony Sid's radio bosses. Or maybe Mingus and his crew, which changes a bit during each broadcast, felt really inspired each night. That's how they come across - capturing the fire that Mingus craved in his music.

Several legitimate live Mingus sets have surfaced in recent years, with many focusing on 1964-65, which encompassed Dolphy's final months with the band and later, when the bassist began working with larger ensembles. The 1964 European tour has been documented extensively, which makes sense as it was Dolphy's last and included a stellar band. If they have any setbacks (which might be a sacrilege to say), it relates to the limited repertoire of those albums.

These performances zero in on a period that might be considered a transitional for the bass-cum-pianist. He had just recorded Oh Yeah, a gutbucket bluesy album where he sat at the piano bench for the whole session. Tunes from that album, rarely heard in other Mingus live recordings, factor heavily into the programs. "Eat That Chicken," a rollicking number inspired by Fats Waller, serves as the band's sign-off at the end of the set and appears a total of seven times throughout the box. 

The October 21, 1961 set opens the box audaciously. A month prior to the Oh Yeah sessions, the group includes Roland Kirk (tenor sax, manzello, stritch), Yusef Lateef (credited with flute, though he seems to play tenor some, if not all, of the time) and devotee Jimmy Knepper (trombone). Mingus plays piano the whole time so Doug Watkins handles bass, as he would in the studio. Drum duties, like all but one set here, come from long-time partner Dannie Richmond. 

The first October track is titled "Nouroog," though it's not the older song with that title (which later became the final movement of "Open Letter to Duke") and though Mingus announces it as "Blue Cee," it's also not the composition of that title he recorded. Instead it's a complex new piece with some interesting tempo shifts. "Ecclusiastics" follows, sounding a little more pronounced than the studio version. Unfortunately a rollicking version of the vampy "Hog Callin' Blues" fades out just as things were starting to get wild. (Apparently the source tape ran out during this song.) At least we get to hear Lateef paraphrase "Wade in the Water." 

By March 1962, the lineup had changed. Mingus was back on bass, with Toshiko Akiyoshi at the keys, where she would stay until the fall. Booker Ervin (tenor saxophone), Charles McPherson (alto saxophone) and Richard Williams (trumpet) filled the horn duties. Like most sides of the set, it features two lengthy pieces plus a short "Eat That Chicken." With that, it delivers quite a contrast in moods: a driving "Take the A Train" (which includes a bowed bass solo) and "Fables of Faubus." None of these sets give Mingus a vocal mike so the biting lyrics of the latter song aren't clear. What becomes clear is Richmond bellowing his responses to the boss's questions in the lyrics. It's a clear case of feeling the words while not hearing them.

The other broadcasts have some song overlaps (aside from "Eat That Chicken," which gets stretched out into a fuller song at least once). "Monk, Funk Or Vice Versa," which never made it into the studio, appears four times. While the March 31 reading goes on a bit too far with the trades between trumpeter Williams and Ervin,  the October versions streamline that trick and benefit from pianist Jaki Byard adding some rather Monk-like accents to his solos.

Speaking of the October broadcasts, Brian Priestly points out in his notes that one of the shows comes a week after Mingus' infamous Town Hall concert. That event is widely considered a low point in Mingus' career, as he attempted to lead a 30-piece ensemble through an extended piece (later known as "Epitaph") that was barely even transcribed, under-rehearsed and abruptly shut down by the stage crew before things were completed. If that disaster did indeed devastate Mingus, it didn't come across when he returned to Birdland seven days later. 

More intrigue comes when bassist Henry Grimes sits in with the band, allowing Mingus to jump over to the piano or create a bigger sound with two low-end instruments. Though it's not always easy to detect when both men are on bass, their dual sound is audible on "Tijuana Table Dance," which later became "Ysabel's Table Dance" when it was released around the time of these performances on Tijuana Moods. Considering that studio version was created through several splices, hearing the multi-part piece executed live adds some gravity to the set. "O.P.," an homage to bassist Oscar Pettiford which was also never recorded in the studio, sounds pretty fast for the ears, but not for the band, who seems comfortable at a bebop tempo.

The live tapes come from the estate of Boris Rose, who fanatically recorded many such live broadcasts over the years. (The Mingus estate gave its blessing to this set too.) A few dates did not come from the original reels and their sound quality is a bit muddy. (Edward Armour's trumpet distorts a little) But even the slightly lo-fi sounds are overridden by the power of the band. Richmond deserves a lot of credit for kicking things along, though even the session where he is absent (and no one sits in) still ranks high, bringing out the sonorities of Mingus' scope. MCs Symphony Sid and, on the first side, Pee Wee Marquette pop up regularly but thankfully their chatter is kept to a minimum. 

Like any good box set, Mingus Takes Manhattan comes with a deluxe booklet (40 pages) that includes performance details, an interview with McPherson and intro by Christian McBride. The short bios on all the players might not have been necessary but the background on Rose and the Birdland broadcasts is illuminating. 

While this set is a pricey undertaking, even by normal jazz box set standards these days, the music provides a valuable snapshot of one of jazz's most original voices. Most significantly it moves away from the legend and mythology to show what listeners might have heard on a "regular" night from him during an overlooked period of a prolific life.