Review: Hank Mobley - Workout

Hank Mobley has often been tagged as one of the lesser saxophone players of the 1950’s and 1960’s era. Dubbed ‘the middleweight champion of the world’ by critic Leonard Feather, to reflect his neither having the heavyweight aggression and free explorations of John Coltrane or the lighter melodically rich stylings of Stan Getz, and instead possessing a strong ‘rounded’ quality, many often mistakenly took the term to be one of derision. Commercial success too seemed to elude him, and only briefly playing with Miles Davis, and heard on his ‘Someday My Prince Will Come’, he was roundly dismissed as being an incompatible match for what Davis wanted.

The truth though is that despite his lack of unique style or tone, and his in truth no better than just good technique, he was always a highly melodic and lyrical tenor man, who though lacking any notably distinctive improvisational prowess, was also a very impressive composer. His career as bandleader is usually seen as being in three clear parts; the good mid-fifties work, the career plateaux of the early sixties, and everything later from the mid-sixties and a few sessions from the early seventies. His early sixties work then is the definitive period that everyone should check out, it being for the most part responsible for the half dozen truly excellent albums he recorded.

‘Workout’, recorded in 1961, is one of his very best, just nipping at the heels of ‘Soul Station’ (and possibly ‘Roll Call’) for the position of his best album. The title track and ‘Smokin’’ are pure bop and hard bop with Mobley at his most impassioned and best, while ‘Greasin’ Easy’ is a harder blues and ‘Uh Huh’ occupies a more soul and R&B field. Excellent tunes played superbly, they’re all by Mobley, and sit nicely with the two standards here which feature the tenor saxman at his most beautiful.

‘Three Coins In A Fountain’ is typically lyrical Hank, but ‘The Best Things In Life Are Free’ is simply uplifting euphoria and happiness in musical form. Staying close to the melody of the piece, it’s a sunny rendition and the good time everyone in the studio is having is palpable in the air.

The Wynton Kelly Trio with Paul Chambers on bass and Philly Joe Jones on drums provide a great rhythm. Kelly’s piano lines are tasteful and slightly bluesy, providing a nice match against Grant Greens highly valuable guitar ork, whose own interplay with Mobley on his ‘Uh Huh’ is outstanding. But no-one on this sesson plays better than Mobley himself, his pristine tone and lyrical beauty here unassailable.

*****

Review: Hank Mobley - The Flip

It seems bizarre now, when you think about it, that Hank Mobley was actually criticised for his lack of aggression in his saxophone playing. Where Sonny Rollins, John Coltrane and Ornette Coleman were repeatedly making waves by pushing boundaries with such forceful tones and trailblazing techniques, others like Mobley were content playing mellower or more obviously soulful ideas. It was this that led to many dismissing him outright, despite his often highly melodic and very song-like quality tenor playing, rich with nuance and a strong feel for the tunes he played.

‘The Flip’ was recorded at the tail-end of the last phase of his career, his third to last recording, and second to last for Blue Note – his home since the mid-fities. A rare session made in Paris, his band here includes an international cast of Dizzy Reece on trumpet, Slide Hampton on trombone, Vince Benedetti on piano, Alby Cullaz on bass and the legendary Philly Joe Jones on drums, with all of the tunes here written by Mobley himself.

And as much as Mobleys latter-day work is routinely glossed-over with dismissal, the album begins joyously, with dancing, boogie-like rhythms and firm punchy horn statements, creating a euphoric groove that is nigh impossible to dislike. ‘Feelin’ Folksy’ is also a great winner with its strong bluesy swing and sweet melody powered by Mobleys typically easy sounding soulful tenor sax – here sounding much more robust than other recent dates.

Not that Mobley is the only horn success here, Hampton and Reece both get to flex and give this session a great defined personality, especially on the Brazillian flavoured ‘Snappin’ Out’, which allows both some killer solos. Joining Mobley on the pedestal of truly underrated talents though is Vince Benedetti; his piano lines subtle and tasteful, and always accompanying the bandleader a treat.

All in all, ‘The Flip’ is a late-era Mobley gem which should be held in the same esteem as his more famous peak ‘Soul Station’. In truth, although hindsight has served him better than any meagre successes of the day, both Mobley and this work will never sit in the hallowed influential or revered ranks, but on its own, without any unnecessary or unwelcome comparisons, it’s a classy and beautiful recording.

****

Review: Hank Mobley - Reach Out

‘Reach Out’, one of Hank Mobleys final ever sessions, is one of a number of records toward the end of the sixties that unfortunately highlights his depressing decline due to various circumstances, before his eventual and complete retirement. One of just a few times that Mobley would move away from hard bop, he instead here opts for a mainstream approach, both testing and saddling himself with gentle bop, soul-jazz and covers of contemporary pop songs. As such, it’s probably the most overtly commercial outing of all-time for Mobley and, not uncoincidentally, one of his worst.

The band, made up of players as strong as Woody Shaw, George Benson, Lamont Johnson, Bob Cranshaw and Billiy Higgins, all sound hemmed in (and even bored) by the sessions goal of appealing to the wider pop audience, and none of them are able to really make a distinctive personal stamp on the proceedings. The Four Tops ‘Reach Out (I’ll Be There)’, though a stone-cold classic, here is absolutely horrific and ranks as one of Mobleys worst ever, where no-one sounds sure what’s going on and everyone gives the impression of only just barely holding it together.

‘Goin’ Out Of My Head’ (covered by almost everyone at the time) is better, but largely sounds phoned in - as does pretty much everything else here. Mobley himself is also an oddly small presence here too, feeling more like an anonymous hired gun than a leader. He puts in a half-good heart-in-it performance just once, on one of his originals, but it’s doubtful anyone noticed it, sounding as it does completely forgettable.

Bland, inoffensive and tiring, it’s best avoided as it’d be hard to find anyone who would derive pleasure from listening to this.

*

Review: Hank Mobley - Dippin'

Having had the signs of a successful solo career about to take off in the late fifties, Hank Mobley was then arrested for drugs offences and sentenced to a year in prison in 1958. Getting back on track afterwards, with both an extended audition with Miles Davis and recording his best ever sessions (‘Soul Station’, ‘Roll Call’ ‘Workout’, ‘Another Workout’, and to a lesser extent ‘No Room For Squares’), Mobley then spent the most part of ’64 again behind bars.

If the first spell inside had clearly marked the period between his twin emergences as both a player and a composer, and his easily strongest output, then the second spell sadly easily marks the difference between his clear best work and his slow gradual decline.

‘Dippin’’ from 1965 though is still a recording full of vigour and confidence, as signalled by Billy Higgins explosive drum opening that kick-starts the up-tempo funk of ‘The Dip’. A great main theme leads into a catchy bridge that gives both Mobley and frequent collaborator Lee Morgan the chance to play two very hot solos. It’s the first of four variable blues originals from Mobley that form the most part of the album. ‘The Break Through’ and ‘The Vamp’ are good, if not as good, whereas ‘Ballin’’, that closes, is mere standard-issue hard bop – it’s fast and quite fun, yet instantly forgettable.

The only slower-paced piece here is the ballad ‘I See Your Face Before Me’, which showcases perfectly the beautiful sound of Mobley and Morgan together as one voice. The only other cover here is a take on Djalma Ferriero’s ‘Recado Bossa Nova’ which, alongside the almost-title track, is the best thing here. Dancey infectious samba that sounds almost like a possible soundtrack theme, Mobley and Morgan again deliver stunning solos against the highly melodic samba-funk hybrid.

Overall though, this isn't one of Mobley’s greatest efforts. It’s an above average one with a couple of stand-out highlights that would most definitely be welcome on any Hank Mobley compilation. If you've found his more well-known and revered work is not enough to satisfy your thirst for the tenor man and you want more, this isn't bad, and contains some of his best work this side of ‘No Room For Squares’.

***

Review: Hank Mobley - Roll Call

Hank Mobley’s ‘Roll Call’ comes cut from the same cloth as his superb highest-rated work from the same period in the early sixties, namely ‘Soul Station’, ‘Workout’ and ‘Another Workout’. This session though makes its own name for itself with a much more energetic take, right from the opening crashing drum-rolls courtesy of Mr Art Blakey.

It would be fair to say though that all of the three afore-mentioned albums are better efforts, and the clear cream of the crop, mainly due to the greater presence of Mobley himself and plenty of his soft and warm rounded tone. Here, alongside his tenor, Freddie Hubbard lends his considerable talent with the trumpet, and it’s his horn with its harder edgier tone that surprisingly dominates throughout. The quintet are all strong, much as you’d expect from a grouping of Mobley, Hubbard, Blakey, Wynton Kelly and Paul Chambers, but it is Hubbard that dazzles the most, with his effortless yet unmistakeable pumped up and muscular playing. On ‘The More I See You’ he even apes/homages Miles Davis, and very successfully too.

Mobley’s tunes are, as always, excellent; as much as his easy-going and songlike saxophone was often criticised at the time, for not being adventurous enough, his skill with writing was, even for the most ardent critic, hard to ignore. Even so, his playing here is stylish and cool, without being unimpassioned. Blakey too makes a great impression throughout with his clattering personalised style of drumming.

‘Roll Call’ has been somewhat overshadowed by the tenor mans other, perhaps more famous, sessions from the late fifties and early sixties, and although justifiable when up against those standout works, it is a consistently strong listen that sits well in their company and is very well-deserving of some greater recognition as being one of Mobleys best dates.

****

Review: Hank Mobley - Soul Station

Hank Mobley is one of my favourite sax players. Owner of a smooth soulful silky sound, his ability to 'sing into his horn' as Benny Golson put it, unfortunately relegated him to the bottom shelf for the critics of the day, who were apparently looking in the wrong direction at the time. In hindsight and retrospect though, his works have come under serious re-evaluation, not just for his great playing, but also for his superb composing abilities. Not forgetting he was also one of the first Jazz Messengers. A great and under-valued player, Hank Mobley's true best record is the excellent 'Soul Station' from 1960. Buy it.

The often forgotten Hank Mobley had a remarkable run in the 1950’s, recording over some forty albums, largely for Blue Note, in a period of less than ten years. Most of these were with stars such as Donald Byrd, Sonny Clark, Kenny Burrell, Lee Morgan, Horace Silver, Art Blakey, Paul Chambers, Louis Hayes and Jackie McClean, to name just a small few.

Then, in 1958, just after the ‘Peckin’ Time’ album with Lee Morgan, he was arrested for drugs offences and sentenced to one year in prison. Subsequently presenting Blue Note with some promotional difficulties on his release, he gradually found his way back into the business with the help of Art Blakey and his Jazz Messengers group, who he gad originally come to prominence with in the early fifties. ‘Soul Station’ in 1960 though was his first full return to Blue Note as the star that would later yield such other excellent works as ‘Roll Call’ and ‘Workout’, among many others.

The quartet format of ‘Soul Station’, with Art Blakey on drums, Paul Chambers on bass and Wynton Kelly on piano suits Mobley very well, with less clutter and more room for Mobley’s big soulful sound. His perfectly rounded sound too was never ‘too emotional’ or shouting for the spotlight to be noticed, like say John Coltrane or other more avant-garde leaning players of the time. Often he would play the lines simply and melodically, almost restrained, content to be a strong team player rather than the standout. The quartet setting allows him to be fully heard, with his sax frequently and uncompromisingly smoothly walking in, as highlighted on the Irving Berlin standard ‘Remember’ that opens proceedings. A nice gentle swing opens, before Mobley’s solo kicks in, with a real show of strength that perhaps he’d been missing in the more over-powering and constrictive bigger groups.

The real heart here though is the four blues-based compositions that really show what Mobley’s strongest point was. ‘This I Dig Of You’ is a fast paced number, but with light-as-a-feather playing, and a standout opening piano solo from Kelly that gradually builds before leaping into a long almost career-best solo from Mobley that forms the meat of the piece. Blakey gets to climax the piece with a characteristic solo, before ‘Dig Dis’ gives us a more obviously blues based beat with some high expressive solos again from Kelly then Mobley.

‘Split Feelin’s’ is up-tempo in the same mould as ‘This I Dig Of You’, with more great sax work before surprisingly, as everything is just hitting a sprint for the finish, it fades out. The title track gives us more low-down blues figures with the band spacing out for some particularly fine piano and bass solos, and then the standard ‘If I Should Lose You’ closes out a pitch-perfect brilliantly.

A classic recording, with a nice balance of four originals placed between two standards, all of the band here is almost perfectly attuned to what needs to be played and how. As much Wynton Kelly’s record as it is Hank Mobley’s, here he is lyrical and playful with a soft and soulful touch on his keys, and both men laying down playing that surpasses anything from their comparatively small output with Miles Davis. Mobley is tastefully restrained, almost aware of what the listener needs and wants, refraining from any ecstatic emotional showiness or squawking, he is calmly and subtly powerful throughout, his tone a constant pleasure to hear here. An overlooked and under-rated player, Mobley produced a solid number of brilliant albums – and ‘Soul Station’ is his ultimate recording. It is well worth anybody’s time.

*****