To listen to guitarist Ray Russell's early Columbia recordings is to open an ear onto a different world, at least a different world in jazz. Dragon Hill's quartet of Russell, pianist Roger Fry, bassist Ron Matthewson, and drummer Alan Rushton was a frighteningly solid jazz unit. They could play the canon until the cows came home and yet, also made the best case for modern British jazz at the time. These were young, restless players; while the blues were fine and good, the edges explored by John Coltrane and the electric Miles Davis group were difficult to resist. Dragon Hill is the sound of a band reinventing itself; undoing the method they previously played music in and replacing it with an intense monster they could barely handle, let alone control. Nothing on this disc was edited, and everything was done in one take without overdubs of any kind. When Russell states a blues theme lifted straight from Davis' "All Blues," you wonder what's up.
But it lasts only a moment because he goes right out of the frame. The band keeps the mode harmonically, but Russell loops over the margins and gets the band to explore with him. They return periodically -- especially Russell, who seems afraid to let go -- but by the time they reach the next tune, "Something in the Sky," the fear is gone. "Dragon Hill" winds out, wailing the blues in a whole new context, unburdened by the chord changes. "Something in the Sky" is like a bebop tune that has become unwound. Adding a four-piece horn section here and on "Mandala," the album's closer, Russell reveals how much influence Jimi Hendrix had on him. He takes in the jazz leanings of the horn players, creates a new harmonic base with Fry, and then shoves his screaming rock guitar into the thick of jazz. It's as if he's trying to break it all apart and it works with the context of the group. The album's backbone is "Can I Have My Paperback Back." Russell's melodic line gets doubled by Fry on electric piano, and they take the blues to ride into the jazz-funk territory before spiraling the entire composition into pure improvisation without any regard for where or when they may return -- and they never do fully. It's a different tune at the end. Dragon Hill is the first in a pair of albums that revealed -- at least to those in Great Britain lucky enough to hear him play -- that Russell wasn't merely a fine jazz player, but a truly original musical thinker and an improvisational force to be reckoned with. This disc is a wonderful introduction to an underappreciated artist. AMG. listen here
Mostrar mensagens com a etiqueta Ray Russell. Mostrar todas as mensagens
Mostrar mensagens com a etiqueta Ray Russell. Mostrar todas as mensagens
domingo, 20 de setembro de 2020
sábado, 23 de novembro de 2013
Ray Russell - Ready or Not 1977
Guitarist Ray Russell may be the most successful member of the final lineup of the John Barry Seven, having gone on to a serious and highly regarded career in jazz and rock in England over the ensuing decades. Russell's introduction tothe John Barry Seven came when he read in the music press that the group's longtime lead guitarist, Vic Flick, was leaving the group -- he auditioned on a day off his regular job and won the spot by pretending that he could read music, and learned musical notation as a member of the band, after establishing his virtuosity. The corpulent, stockily built Russell (who resembled Roy Kinnear or Robbie Coltrane) was an improbable looking guitar hero, but his talent was incontestable. He made a good successor to Flick and stayed with the band to the end, in early 1965. He next played with Georgie Fame & the Blue Flames, and by the end of the 1960s he was working in tandem with Chris Spedding in the Mike Gibbs band, alongside bassist Jack Bruce and reedman Alan Skidmore.
During the 1970s, Russell passed through such ensembles as the Rock Workshop and the avant jazz-rock comboNucleus, and co-founded Chopyn (featuring Simon Phillips on drums) with keyboard player Ann Odell. He also played with Roxy Music's Andy Mackay on the soundtrack of the British television series Rock Follies, and became a member of Stackridge for a time. Russell was also the guitarist for the group Smith & D'Abo, and played a role in the benefit performances known as The Secret Policeman's Ball, alongside Eric Clapton, Neil Innes, et al. As a member of the fusion group the British Orchestra in the early '80s, he played and recorded the music of Gil Evans, and he also made his West End debut playing in the musical Time, starring Cliff Richard, in 1986.
Russell later formed his own group, the Ray Russell Band. He was a regular participant at the Montreux Jazz Festival throughout the 1980s and 1990s working in various group contexts, and has also played with the Simon Phillips Band. Although Russell is best known for his abilities as a jazz player, he has worked successfully across a vast range of musical idioms, including R&B/soul and heavy metal. Various recordings under his leadership have been issued over the years, including such career highlights as 1987’s Childscape featuring appearances by Gil Evans and Mark Ishamon the Theta label (reissued as Why Not Now on Melt 2000 in 1999 and with bonus tracks in 2004 on Angel Air), 1990’s A Table Near the Band on Last Chance Music (reissued by Angel Air in 2008), and 2006’s Goodbye Svengalion Cuneiform. AMG..listen here
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