Review: Freddie Hubbard - Night Of The Cookers

A live Freddie Hubbard recording should always really be something of a welcome prospect, which given their limited number makes ‘The Night Of The Cookers’ even more disappointing. A double album of two club night performances of long and extended pieces, we get four tracks all around the twenty-minute mark showcasing a duelling match between trumpet kings Hubbard and Lee Morgan, with support from a mixed band supplying sax and flute, piano, bass, drums and congas. And with one of those players being the excellent James Spaulding, this should have been a classic. Instead it comes nowhere close.

First of all, the recording itself is appalling, sounding badly miked, muddy and quite often nowhere near the instruments. There are some otherwise good solos here that are ruined by the fact that you can’t hear them because the rhythm section is so far in front, that the soloist is completely distant and buried in the mix.

Second is that the long jams that make up the bulk of the music are a chaotic and jangled mess. The full band is often found playing as hard and as much as they can all at the same time, with little in the way of space or breathing room. ‘Pensativa’ is almost a complete waste of time for this very reason, with ‘Walking’ benefitting from a more blues-sounding strut, but is still far from acceptable.

More confusingly and unexpectedly is that the legendary Lee Morgan here sounds completely abysmal and lost, with Hubbard clearly sounding in a different and stronger league. There are a lot of solos on this gig, and most of them are far too stretched out, starting as they do frequently with too little an idea - Morgan in particular is devastatingly uninspired throughout.

‘Jodo’ picks up things with some strong moments and a nice fast paced rhythm, which unfortunately gives way to some appalling conga solos, and leaving it to Hubbard’s own ‘Breaking Point’ to steal the small honour of easily being the best piece here. Melding Spanish-informed music with a calypso feel, it sounds like the band has finally finished rehearsal and is now stepping up to something approaching an A-game. It’s sad then that the sound is still atrocious.

There are some good bits and pieces here and there scattered throughout, but nothing that isn’t available in a much better format, or sound quality, on other more solid releases, for either trumpet stars here. Each also has better live efforts too; in Hubbards excellent ‘Without A Song’ and Morgans definitive three album set ‘Live At The Lighthouse’. Regardless of these though, nothing with this bad a sound recording should ever be put out as an ‘official’ release, and for the price and poor quality of the music in general, this one should without exception be side-stepped and forgotten.

*

Review: Lee Morgan - Taru

Lee Morgan’s ‘Taru’ first recorded in 1968, but shamefully unreleased until 1980, and then even only fleetingly available, is often referred to by many as a ‘transitional’ recording, which actually does much to under-value this in-fact exquisite and under-appreciated album. True, Morgan is here moving away from his more traditional hard bop to take in some modal ideas, but also some subtle early fusion elements. Leading a sextet, he is ably supported throughout, most notably by Bennie Maupin’s tenor sax and George Benson’s unmistakable guitar, and together they take on an interesting mix of skillful covers, well-crafted and complex originals, boogaloos and modal jazz.

‘Avotcja One’ leads with some funky moves, courtesy of John Hicks, whose piano here is tastefully understated but perfectly atuned to the song, while Benson gets to shows some good chops. ‘Haeschen’ then takes things up a notch with a superb opening from Morgan and Maupin interwining with each other, before Morgan gets to solo dynamitely. There is not a single misstep here at all though, with only the title track (‘Taru, What’s Wrong With You’) slowing the pace for a moving ballad, before ‘Durem’ gets to close with some very fine impossible to dislike boogie, where in truth everyone shines.

One of Lee Morgans very best recordings, it’s instantly likeable and catchy, and ends all too soon. A good time album, it’s criminally one of Morgan’s lesser-known works, not helped by it’s often hard to track down nature. Now available, not like the rest of his considerable output on the Rudy Van Gelder issues, but instead on Blue Note’s Connesieur re-issues, it means it’s future is likely much the same as its past, and it’ll most probably become something of a rarity. Why it was held back from release originally is baffling, but anyone with even a minor interest in Morgan should track this down – you won’t be disappointed.

****