Let's Get to the Nitty Gritty: The Autobiography of Horace Silver

Horace Silver's conversational autobiography is short, earthy, and cookin', much like his music. It provides an overview of his entire life, from his origins in Connecticut, growing up with an African American and Cape Verdean father, the local forms of racial discrimination in New England, and his musical career, which encompassed a key period in the history of jazz in the mid-20th century. While most people I have spoken with have long pigeon-holed Silver into the hard bop/Blue Note vein, if one reads this autobiography, one gains a more nuanced view. For instance, Silver was a fan of Jimmie Lunceford's group, one of the major black swing bands in Harlem. Silver also imbibed Cape Verdean musical influences from watching the dances held at his home when his father and his compatriots performed for the local Cape Verdean community in Norwalk, Connecticut. Even more surprising, Silver's post-1970 recordings experimented with electric keyboards, gospel, spiritualist, vocals, and larger ensembles.

Silver's piano playing was also profoundly shaped by Lester Young (in addition to Monk, Bud Powell, and Nat King Cole), so he was always capable of smooth, sweet, and a 'cool' style. Indeed, Silver used to play the tenor saxophone, although he later focused on piano and composition. Moreover, the Horace Silver Quintet was, to paraphrase the editor of the autobiography, innovative and important in its use of breaks, shout choruses, countermelodies, interludes, and background riffs. This becomes evident when listening to recordings of Silver between 1955-1970, which contains more than enough material to interest those less pleased by the bluesy dominance of much of Silver's style or compositions. 

However, what does the autobiography reveal about Silver the man and his times? Through the influence of his spiritualist beliefs and pleasant nature, Silver refrains from making negative statements about nearly everyone who appears in the book. And the list is quite long, including famous musicians such as Miles Davis, singers of the caliber of Freda Payne and Miriam Makeba, or various relatives and sidemen. Since he did not drink or abuse drugs, but experienced the racial stereotyping and targeting of black jazz artists , he was critical of the impact of narcotics on musicians and the stereotyping of black musicians as drug users or purveyors, especially in Philadelphia. He also experienced, to a certain extent, many of the same problems Charles Mingus highlighted in his fictionalized autobiography, mainly the exploitation of jazz musicians, racial discrimination from law enforcement, and record labels seeking to control or profit from their musical labor (although Blue Note was, for the most part, a positive experience for Silver). 

Most surprising is Silver's skepticism of terms like hard bop to describe his music. He did not see his music of the 1950s or 1960s to be a "new style," although the Silver Quintet and the Jazz Messengers undeniably defined a particular jazz aesthetic. While most jazz aficionados have likely not followed up on Silver's music after 1970, he was clearly versatile, desired to try out new ideas, and sought to surround himself with talented young musicians. While this later became a problem, especially as he saw students from jazz programs as lacking improvisational skills and harmonic knowledge, it is too reductionist and unfair to restrict Silver to his music from 1955-1960. Personally, I prefer his work of the 1950s and 1960s, and I find his original compositions to be clever, funky, sophisticated, and intriguing for their rhythmic sense. "The African Queen" or "Song for My Father" are not alone as indications of Silver's seemingly simple yet complex work. 

Merengue From Cape Verde

An interesting merengue from a Cape Verdean legend, Luis Morais. The song alludes to an earlier relationship between music of the French Antilles and Cape Verde given the French Creole title which shares the same name with a song from Remy Mondey. Because of the popularity of zouk in Cape Verde, and zouk's origins in Haitian compas, which itself has links to Dominican merengue, one can see roots and routes going all directions in the music of the Black Atlantic.

Africa Oye

Followers of this blog know I love me some Congolese rumba and soukous. The genre reflects Cuban and other Afro-Caribbean influences, combining the best of Cuban son, biguine, local African instruments and styles, and European vocal influences. And we all know how Congolese soukous has conquered the African continent musically. What I was quite ignorant of, however, was the influence of soukous on Cape Verdean coladeira and other genres. Such a beautiful song, Abel Lima and his group were wondrous musicians. The 'clean' and refined guitar, so essential for establishing the song, is reason enough to love soukous. "Africa, Africa, Africa, Africa oye!"

Cesaria Evora's "Angola"

The Cape Verdean barefoot diva, Cesaria Evora, sings a song by a presumably Angolan composer. As a Cape Verdean, there is likely some kinship with Angola as fellow former Portuguese colonies in Africa, and the Cape Verdean Creole language is itself a mixture of African languages and Portuguese, perhaps another contribution to feelings of kinship between the two Lusophone nations. Interestingly, the Portuguese influence in "Angola," the name for the country deriving from ngola, a title for the rulers of one Bantu-speaking group in modern-day Angola, is self-evident from the "Moorish" or North African influence in the piano vamp and guitar lines. Cape Verde and Angola, as former Portuguese colonies, likely incorporated aspects of Portuguese and Iberian music generally through centuries of colonialism and cultural contact in Africa that is predated by centuries of contact between North African Arabs, Berbers and others with local Iberian populations in Europe. Thus, the cultural heritage of "Angola" and that of Cape Verde extends back to Moorish-ruled Iberia, the development of Iberian musical forms such as the flamenco and North African/Middle-Eastern-tinged and centuries of West and Central African polyrhythms, vocal styles, and instruments fusing with Iberian instruments and styles. Like the music of Latin America, Cape Verdean morna and other genres reflects this cultural mestizaje and the shared influences would almost make one think "Angola" is from Brazil or the Caribbean. Nevertheless, the stellar combination of African and European influences led to a beautiful child of new, intriguing music with infectious rhythms and Iberian guitar and melodies, African polyrhythms and inflections through the Creole language. Here and this is a live version. Check Angelique Kidjo's interesting live interpretation here for a lively rendition. "Angola, Angola!"

Ess vida sabe qu'nhôs ta vivê
Parodia dia e note manché
Sem maca ma cu sabura
Angola angola
Oi qu'povo sabe
Ami nhos ca ta matá-me
'M bem cu hora pa'me ba nha caminho
Ess convivência dess nhôs vivência
Paciência dum consequência
Resistência dum estravagância

The Cape Verdean Blues

 

 

1.“The Cape Verdean Blues,” the title track of the album, alludes to Horace Silver’s Cape Verdean roots through his father. The song fuses blues with Latin-inflected rhythms, something not unusual for Horace Silver’s work, although it probably does not really reflect any Cape Verdean musical influences. Perhaps due to Cape Verdean music’s similarities with African-derived music from Latin America and its own Creole culture, Silver could simply transfer Afro-Caribbean and Afro-Brazilian rhythms to the album, which is what he did for “Song for My Father,” using a bossa nova beat with blues melodic influences.  Joe Henderson’s saxophone blows away on this track, carrying the listener to great delights while imagining Cape Verdean’s engaged in brisk, sensual dance. The percussionists’ propulsive rhythm keeps it track going while Henderson blows in ecstasy in almost “Middle-Eastern” styled howls, which could allude to the Iberian influences in Cape Verde from centuries of Portuguese rule. The combination of Afro-Latin and African American-derived blues structure works well here, although it would have been better had the percussionists been given a chance to solo.

2. “The African Queen” is Silver’s tribute to Black women. A dark, exotic composition with quasi-samba percussive effects added to the light swing from Humphries, this track once again relies on Joe Henderson’s post-bop leaning, raw saxophone blowing. He sounds like his later work in the 1960s, veering toward avant-guard and post-bop sounds representative of his best work. Shaw’s subsequent trumpet solo is also quite stirring, almost evocative of ancient Moorish trumpet fare, which, as mentioned previously, is part of Cape Verdean musical heritage from centuries of Moorish rule in the Iberian Peninsula. Silver’s piano solo takes some bluesy detours while also keeping up with the more progressive dissonances and explorations of Henderson. Humphries drumming is on point throughout the song, becoming explosive when needed toward the song’s end, though soloing lightly and maintaining an “African” ethos prevalent in 1960s Afrocentric jazz. “The African Queen” is truly a phenomenal number from Silver.

3. “Pretty Eyes” features a more typical Silver head, with slight turns, a mid-tempo beat, and an almost waltz-like quality to my ignorant ears. Either way, Silver’s talent for writing catchy heads comes off quite well, and I cannot help but think this song likely influenced the Japanese composer of music for one of the Final Fantasy videogames. Per usual, Henderson is the real star here, playing in the bop mould while also open to extending his range and raw, earthy tone across the searching, melodic comping from Silver. Then, he tops it with more exhilarating blowing until Shaw’s trumpet takes over, playing a mixture of soft, light improvisation with moments of fast, accompaniment from Humphries on drums. Once Silver takes over, his left-hand accompanies his right’s higher-pitched fingers to accentuate the composition’s head. It concludes with the same lilting, almost ominous beginning, suggestive of dark, elusive Cape Verdean eyes while retaining the bluesy hard-bop sound in the horns, characteristic of Silver’s brand of jazz.

4. “Nutville” is the first song on the album’s second half, when trombone player J.J. Johnson joins the recording session. A swinging number with frenetic bass action, begins with Johnson’s soulful trombone soloing. Shaw’s trumpet follows, keeping up with the song’s fast pace and Latin-inflected beats, which sounds like Humphries is enjoying himself, almost sounding like Elvin Jones. Henderson reigns supreme in his scorching, fast blowing, almost sounding like a fire alarm with his appropriate honking quality. Silver’s contemplative solo somehow meshes well with the song’s solo, before taking a bluesy, bop-quality typical of most of his work. Used to swinging hard with Latin touches, Silver is in his element, playing within his old style while open to influences from Henderson and Shaw. Humphries, on the other hand, concludes the soloing with poly rhythmic wonders, sounding like Elvin Jones, Coltrane’s drummer who so perfectly fused Afro-Caribbean and swing rhythms, though for too brief a moment. The bassist maintains his ostinato-like foundation throughout, further exemplifying the song’s debts to Latin music.

5. “Bonita,” Spanish for pretty, begins with a simple bass foundation, an almost orchestral-like horn arrangement, and Afro-Latin drumming. With such a small group, Silver produces the sound of a big band but the horn arrangement’s melancholic sound suggests loss, perhaps of the “bonita” Cape Verdean? Silver leads first, with a funky, bluesy solo rooted in hard bop with aptly timed, thunderous drumming accompaniment by Humphries. Despite giving into blues delight at times, Silver’s adept fingers do some soul searching, piercing through the superficial with dark, enigmatic lines. Afterward, Henderson begins, inevitably turning the song into something post-bop, running through streams of notes and adding vibrato. My favorite part, however, must be J.J. Johnson’s solo, beginning with a quote from the spiritual, “Wade in the Water,” an unexpected treat in this thoughtful homage to beauty. Later, Shaw’s trumpet solo, though nice and well-played, lacks any additional spirit or strength for the composition.

6. “Mo’Joe,” the final song, is a Henderson-penned tune out of character with the rest of the album. Lacking the album’s Latin and “exotic” Cape Verdean or African allusions, this is straight hard bop as Silver composed himself in the 1950s. The horns dominate the track here, with fun, exciting directions in their solos, especially Henderson, who blows away everyone away. Silver, clearly in his element, lays down some soulful funky, catchy riffing while Cranshaw on bass finally gets some all-too brief solo time. Although uncharacteristic for the album’s title and the rest of the songs, “Mo’Joe” is an acceptable end to the album.