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Good Forever

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Editor's info:
>"Good Forever" finds Chicago tenor titan Von Freeman once again in the company of drummer Jimmy Cobb, pianist Richard Wyands and bassist John Webber, the trio that backed him on his 2004 Premonition release "The Great Divide." That record was a tribute album of sorts, dedicated to Von's saxophone heroes Coleman Hawkins, Lester Young and Charlie Parker. A program of mostly Ballads and Blues, "Good Forever," sets an entirely different mood. "This is the kind of album I've wanted to do for some time," says Freeman. "It's dedicated to all my lady fans and that about says it all." Known around the world for his abilities to blow through any set of changes at any tempo, inhabit Free jazz as if he invented the idiom and Swing harder than anyone playing jazz today he proves on "Good Forever" that he can sweet talk as well. And in the process, the 83 year old Freeman proves that an artist needn't abandon his creativity to play for the people.



Signal to Noise,Winter 2006
by Bill Barton

"Here's one for the ladies," as Vonski always says, or, in this case, here's six for the ladies. Even though the theme is ballads and blues, there's plenty of mid-tempo energy in the performances of "An Affair to Remember" and Jimmy Webb's "Didn't We." This feel used to be called a "bounce ballad" in the Swing Era, and saxophonist Von Freeman is a master of the form. The ambiance is romantic but the textures and tempos aren't all that different from this quartet's widely acclaimed previous disc, The Great Divide. The choice of material is decidedly fresh. I can recall hearing only on other recorded version -- Sonny Criss's classis -- of the bittersweet Charlie Chaplin "Smile." Freeman's gem-like 3:11 distillation is as perfect as a slow ballad gets, and the elegantly soulful pianist Richard Wyands takes a concise and lapidary solo. Another Chicago tenor giant -- Gene Ammons -- interpreted "Didn't We" back in the day, otherwise the selections are completely new to my ears. In addition to Freeman's own "A Night in Paris," the program includes "Why Try to Change Me Now" and "I'll Never Be Free." In the liner notes Freeman says: "In their day these songs were very important on the South Side ... everybody, including me, was doing them every night." The slow rocking bluesy "I'll Never Be Free" goes out with an extended "Blues in the Night" quote. Bassist John Webber is a superb ensemble player and takes only one low-key solo, on "Didn't We." Veteran drummer Jimmy Cobb provides perspicacious proplusion and solos briefly on "A Night in Paris." This quartet is about mature interaction, not macho fireworks. Beatifully recorded by the impeccable Jim Anderson, like Vonski himself It's indeed good forever.







DownBeat Magazine, December 2006
by James Hale

Art Blakey had a question he employed to put young, hyperactive Jazz Messenger saxophonists in their place: "Are the ladies in the audience smiling?" His point was that ballads and blues were as important as fast runs and wailing high notes, and more likely to move the females in the crowd. At 84, Von Freeman shares Blakey's knowledge. He dedicates his fourth Premonition CD to his female fans, and concentrates on the kind of playing guaranteed to make them smile.

Reunited with Jimmy Cobb, Richard Wyands and John Webber from The Great Divide, Freeman tackles six pieces that showcase his vocal restraint and cutting tone. They are also a superb showcase for Cobb's restraint and taste: he does more with a single hi-hat closure than anyone. One can't help but ponder: Is balladic playing of this order a generational thing? Freeman conveys a world of emotion in just three minutes on Charlie Chaplin's "Smile," and he manages to sound both unhurried and intense on "An Affair to Remember." Even on the harder-edged blues "I'll Never Be Free" his sense of dynamics is masterful, shading his diamond-hard tone toward something more pliable as the tune unfolds. Too brief at barely LP length, Good Forever is a text-book illustration of the power of taking it slow.





Jazz Times Magazine, November 2006
by David Whiteis

Unlike many "elder statesmen" who survive mostly on memory and past accomplishments, Chicago's octogenarian tenor saxophone master Von Freeman remains in full command of his facilities. New ideas seem to burst into life when he plays, and both his physical prowess and his imaginative fire are undiminished. This set, consisting mostly of obscure ballads and midtempo, blues-influenced pop tunes from the '40s and '50s, might seem an unlikely vehicle but true to form, Freeman mines gems from even the most unlikely soil.

His angular, probing lines set against his trademark elastic intonation create a vivid tension. He alternates sepia-toned meditations with sharp upper-register salvos and occasional overtone screams that break apart into what feels almost like chaos before coming back together, reshaped and recolored, like shards in an aural kaleidoscope. In his own way, he's also as rhythmically propulsive as any of his bebop contemporaries, but you have to listen carefully to catch him at it. He uses silence as if it were a drum, creating empty spaces between phrases -- sometimes between individual notes -- that propel his lines relentlessly forward.

Drummer Jimmy Cobb and bassist John Webber swing unerringly and unobtrusively throughout, pianist Richard Wyands lacks Freeman's improvisational imagination, but he's adept at creating spacious harmonic realms in which the leader can cavort and swirl, and his own solo work is concise and understated. The result is a set that resonates with the kind of musical sophistication and emotional depth that take years of living and playing to develop, yet also sparkles with an almost childlike sense of wonder and ebullience.







Washington Post, July 4, 2004
by Steve Futterman

In taking full measure of Von Freeman's substantial gifts as a jazz saxophonist, it's best to get the age issue out of the way as soon as possible. Freeman is 81. Approach his latest album, "The Great Divide," with that in mind, and his gifts as a vital, uncategorizable stylist loom even larger.

Yet Freeman's triumphant art far transcends a case of body and spirit defying time. This Chicago tenor legend may indeed perform with the vigor of a man half his age, but it's the imaginative content of what he plays -- and how he plays it -- that sets him apart. In Freeman we hear an uncanny mixture of authentic swing and bop influences transformed through a highly unconventional approach to phrasing, tone and pitch that links him to jazz's avant-garde. His work feels timeless, a conjoining of disparate styles and sugar-and-salt sounds that could only be connected by an original mind.

Freeman may be a national jazz treasure, but outside of his home town he is little known. It's a different story in the Windy City, where a street bears his name and Northwestern University granted him an honorary degree, and where he has led a now-legendary weekly jam session at a club for more than 30 years.

Chicago's affection for Freeman may have a lot to do with his loyalty to the place. Over the years he has played alongside a slew of Second City talents who, having honed their craft, then packed up to make their reputation in New York. Freeman stayed put. His family was there, including his son Chico, an esteemed saxophonist himself. And there was no shortage of greats passing through, as a younger man Freeman jammed with Lester Young, Coleman Hawkins, Charlie Parker and Dizzy Gillespie. His Chicago musical cohorts included Sun Ra, Andrew Hill and Ahmad Jamal.

In truth, though, Freeman has always been such an idiosyncratic player that popular recognition might have eluded him anywhere. He never lets you get too comfortable with his playing, no matter how swinging or sensuous a mood he may set, Freeman will then dive into a tonally ambiguous, improbably phrased passage that's as unexpected as it's delightfully expressive. This isn't, and thankfully will never be, made-for-prime-time tenor.

"The Great Divide," which is to be released July 13, reunites Freeman with an early associate, drummer Jimmy Cobb, the last surviving member of the Miles Davis band that recorded 1959's "Kind of Blue." Cobb brings along two members of the Cobb's Mob quartet, pianist Richard Wyands and bassist John Webber, and their spirited ease fits the saxophonist perfectly. The album brilliantly illustrates Freeman's flair for mid- and up-tempo swing ("Be My Love," "Disorder at the Border," "Hard Hittin' "), blues meditations ("Blue Pres"), luscious ballads ("This Is Always") and even a one-chord, free-tempo improvisation that hints at Coltrane-era openness ("Chant Time").

The album concludes with a seven-minute, unaccompanied saxophone reading of the now little-played standard "Violets for Your Furs," a tour de force of instrumental control and openhearted emotion. In his golden years, Freeman brings together a bullfighter's daring with the maturity of a wise, and soulful, older man.








A Venerable Sax Man Channels a Couple of Patriarchs
New York Times, May 22, 2003
by Ben Ratliff

After playing a few songs at the TriBeCa Performing Arts Center on Friday night, the tenor saxophonist Von Freeman sidled up to the microphone in his pale suit and sunglasses. "I'm very lucky," he said, with the half smile of someone who has pulled something off without your knowing it. "I actually played with Coleman Hawkins and Lester Young. So you know how old I am: 81, baby."

That was it for contextualizing. The rest of the concert was just lovely, smeared, smoky sound, salted with a few passages of hard, fast bebop language.

The show was part of this year's Lost Jazz Shrines series, which honors a famous defunct jazz spot for a few concerts each season. This year's theme is Cafe Society (which opened in Greenwich Village in the late 1930's and lasted more than a decade), and Friday's particular focus was on two tenor saxophonists who played there, Lester Young and Coleman Hawkins.

Mr. Freeman, who has a hard-core local following in his hometown, Chicago, rarely comes to New York. But every time he does, he insists on casual performances. It's as if at any moment he might just give up the pretense of being a star, hand the horn to someone else, and slope off to charm someone at the bar. Talk about lost jazz shrines: his beatific attitude and entire mode of being is a lost jazz shrine. On Friday he was backed by the pianist Barry Harris and his trio. Mr. Harris, who's 73, is another jazz elder holding a great deal of important musical secrets. It's hard to believe, but they had never played together before.

They worked well together. Mr. Harris is a careful sensualist in medium-slow tempos, whereas Mr. Freeman is a full-blown voluptuary, sometimes abandoning strings of notes for long, blobby glissandos in the low register. On "Lester Leaps In" he was magnificent. He dragged through the theme as if sleepwalking, then gracefully slipped into fast, fractured phrases for an improvised chorus, as if the sleepwalker had suddenly stepped onto a moving freight train.

While Mr. Harris's trio - with the bassist Walter Booker and the drummer Leroy Williams - played its solos, Mr. Freeman walked around like a mobile cheering section, pumping Mr. Williams's shoulder when he got into a nice groove, or peering down at Mr. Harris during a quiet passage of "These Foolish Things" and whispering, "Preach, preach."


90768

Opis

Wydawca
Premonition (USA)
Artysta
Von Freeman
Nazwa
Good Forever
Instrument
tenor saxophone
Zawiera
CD
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