Jean Baptiste “Illinois” Jacquet
was merely 19 years old when, as a member of Lionel Hampton's
band, he blew a tenor solo on “Flying Home”
that became a classic and oft-imitated solo. It was so popular
that Jacquet was called upon to play the same solo in live
performances rather than improvise a new one. He continued
to play in the best big bands around, including those led
by Count Basie and Cab Calloway, toured as part of Norman
Granz's Jazz at the Philharmonic, and led his own popular
jump bands when the big band era began to wane. He is one
of the architects of what is commonly referred to as the
"Texas tenor style", and his playing is supremely
musical, swinging, and gutsy. But somehow, Jacquet has not
been accorded the place in jazz history occupied by tenor
players like Ben Webster, Lester Young, Dexter Gordon, and
Johnny Griffin.
Born in Boussard, Louisiana in 1922, Jacquet
began as a drummer, later switching to alto saxophone. He
grew up in Houston, playing in Milt Larkins' territory band
that included the likes of Eddie "Cleanhead" Vinson
and Arnett Cobb. The territory bands were local bands that
traveled extensively, but generally did not play the large
cities, like New York and Chicago. They were well known
and popular within a limited geographical region. In 1941,
Lionel Hampton was putting his band together after leaving
the Benny Goodman group, and he invited Arnett Cobb to join.
Cobb declined, electing to remain with the Larkins band,
so Hampton took on Illinois Jacquet, persuading him to change
to the tenor saxophone. Hampton's 1941 band included Dexter
Gordon, trumpeter Ernie Royal and his altoist brother Marshall,
and pianist Milt Buckner. It was this band that recorded
the legendary "Flying' Home", a rollicking, raunchy
workout that seemed to redefine the big band sound, with
Jacquet's visceral tenor solo stealing the show.
Arnett Cobb agreed to join Hampton's band
in 1942, though the band didn't record again until the end
of the Federation of Musicians recording ban in March of
1944. He replaced Jacquet, who moved on to play with Cab
Calloway and then Count Basie. The story goes that Jacquet
quit the Basie band one night in Detroit after realizing
that people were more interested in his playing than in
hearing the band. He recorded a number of sides from 1945-50
for the Aladdin and Apollo record labels with a seven piece
band that featured, at various times, Fats Navarro, J.J.
Johnson, Leo Parker, and Sir Charles Thompson. These sides
have been made available in a tremendous Mosaic Records
4 CD set The Complete Illinois Jacquet Sessions.
Jacquet became associated with Norman Granz's
Jazz at the Philharmonic concerts, becoming known as a tenor
wildman because of his raucous wailing and penchant for
high note riffs that would drive audiences into frenzy.
This reputation is somewhat undeserved, as Illinois has
always had a way with the smokier, more romantic tunes as
well, such as "Black Velvet". In the 1960's Jacquet
took up the bassoon, a notoriously difficult instrument,
featuring it in his recording of Monk's "Round Midnight".
Since then he has done a fair bit of recording. One of the
best introductions to his music is the Prestige 1968 date
Bottoms Up, on which Jacquet revisits earlier tunes,
like the title track and "Port of Rico" with only
a rhythm section to back him. The results demonstrate that
Jacquet is in the major league of tenor players. Especially
beautiful is his recording of his own composition "You
Left Me All Alone"-one of the most beautiful tenor
ballad performances ever, with the exception of Coleman
Hawkins' "Body and Soul". There is not an R&B
tenor saxophonist, a blues, rock, or jazz tenorman who does
not owe something of his sound or his bag of sonic tricks
to Illinois Jacquet.
Granz’s Jazz at the Philharmonic (the
name came about when the printer of the original concert
poster left the final word, “Auditorium”, out
and Granz decided it worked OK) shows were often criticized
as pap for the masses. Since the audience was largely not
an educated jazz audience, the musicians could sometimes
lay back and rely on “tricks” to get them applause—hence,
Jacquet’s reputation for squawking and hitting high
notes. This, of course, is one of the problems encountered
when attempting to bring art into the marketplace. I mean,
once Monet discovered all anyone wanted was water lilies,
he barely bothered to paint anything else. Still, Granz
rescued jazz from being seen as a nightclub-only music,
which certainly kept it in play longer than might otherwise
have been the case. Add to that the fact that the JATP shows
toured Europe, spreading American jazz and exposure to some
great players following WWII and Granz’s insistence
that black musicians be treated the same as whites, receiving
the same pay and patronizing the same restaurants and hotels,
and you can see that a lot was accomplished through his
work.
Eventually, of course, Granz started Verve
records, a consolidation of the labels he’d set up
to release the JATP concerts and other projects. Verve quickly
became a very prolific label, releasing LP after LP of classic
jazz recordings. In addition, the label became very prestigious,
signing the best artists and recording them in seemingly
endless variations. Granz always had something new up his
sleeve—recording Charlie Parker with strings, for
example, or the only Harry Carney-led sessions, or the Ella
Fitzgerald American songbook collections. By 1960, when
jazz was no longer America’s preferred popular music,
Granz sold Verve and moved to Switzerland, where he continued
to promote tours.
In 1973 he was back, launching the incredible
Pablo label which featured a catalog of new recordings by
Art Tatum, Duke Ellington, Count Basie, Roy Eldridge, Dizzy
Gillespie, and many others. Some of these artists recorded
their last albums for the Pablo label, and Granz was often
able to record them in unusual settings (such as the Basie
small-group sessions that are indeed a jewel in Pablo’s
crown). In 1987 he sold Pablo to Fantasy Records, who continue
to remaster and release the Pablo catalog for distribution
on compact disc.
Verve records threw a concert at Carnegie
Hall in 1994 to celebrate Granz’s fiftieth anniversary
in the music business. Never one for ceremony or accolades
directed his way, he didn’t attend. Granz once said
of trumpeter Roy Eldridge: “He’s a musician
for whom it’s far more important to dare, to try to
achieve a particular peak—even if he falls on his
ass in the attempt—than it is to play safe. That’s
what jazz is all about.”
Guys like Granz and Jacquet have spent their entire lives
daring, trying to achieve a particular peak, and not giving
a damn about the current fashion. I wish we never had to
lose people like them.
