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Somethin' Else
Blue Note Records: RVG Edition 7243 4 95329 2 2
Blue Note 1595
Miles Davis Performs Courtesy of Columbia Records


1. Autumn Leaves
10:55
(J. Kosma – J. Mercer)

2. Love For Sale 7:01
(Cole Porter)

3. Somethin’ Else
8:11
(Miles Davis)

4. One For Daddy-O 8:21
(Nat Adderley)

5. Dancing In The Dark 4:03
(A. Schwartz – H. Dietz)

6. Bangoon 5:05*
(Hank Jones)

*Not part of the original album
______________________________________________________________________

Miles Davis – trumpet
Cannonball Adderley – alto saxophone
Hank Jones – piano
Sam Jones – bass
Art Blakey – drums

Produced by Alfred Lion

Recorded on March 9, 1958 at the Van Gelder Studio, Hackensack, New Jersey

Originally recorded and remastered in 1998 by Rudy Van Gelder

All transfers from analog to digital were made at 24-bit resolution

Reissue produced by Michael Cuscuna

Cover photograph by Francis Wolff
Cover design by Reid Miles
Liner photographs from the actual session by Francis Wolff © Mosaic Images: #1-5 originally issued as Blue Note BLP 1595 and BST 81595

Creative Director for RVG Series: Gordon H. Jee
Design for RVG Series: Michael Boland and Eric Bernhardi for Watts Design
Production for RVG Series: Tom Vasatka.

Blue Note ® is a registered trademark of Capitol Records, Inc. (P) & © 1999 Capitol Records, Inc. Manufactured by Capitol Records, Inc., Hollywood and Vine Streets, Hollywood, California. All rights reserved. Unauthorized duplication is a violation of applicable laws. Printed in U.S.A.
______________________________________________________________________

Leonard Feather, Original Liner Notes

What manner of album is this? Julian “Cannonball” Adderley, the leader of the group that remains so ardently aflame throughout these sides, is an alto saxophonist cast in the Charlie Parker bop mold. Miles Davis, the other half of the front line, has been the subject of learned dissertations in which he is identified with a branch of jazz known as “cool music.” And Hank Jones, whose piano is the third important voice in the quintet, has spent a substantial part of the past two years as a sideman with a big band led by the King of Swing. Art Blakey’s drums have been associated with an alleged new school that has variously been billed as “hard bop” and “hard funk.” As for Sam Jones, bass, he is Sam Jones, bass, though lately there has been a tendency to categorize and pigeonhole even the bass players.

What is remarkable about the above-cited facts is not that members of various schools have been able to assemble and collaborate in the production of a superlative jazz album, but rather the fact that they are not really as various as the critics might have you believe. Both Cannonball and Miles agree that there has been far too much labeling of jazzmen, that there is an almost limitless degree of overlapping between schools and that what counts is not the branding of the music but the cohesive quality of their concerted efforts.

Only three years have elapsed since Cannonball fired his initial salvo at the Gotham scene. He would have been unable to sit in on the important night that marked his New York debut had not school been out. School to Julian Adderley meant Dillard High School in Fort Lauderdale, Fla., where he had been band director since 1948. Wandering north, he and his brother Nat found themselves at the Bohemia, where the incumbent group was Oscar Pettiford’s combo. It happened that Jerome Richardson had not yet arrived for work, but Julian’s offer to step into the spotlight was greeted with some wariness by Pettiford, who had never heard, nor heard of, the plump, cheerful-faced newcomer. To put him in his place, Oscar beat the band off with “I’ll Remember April” at an impossible tempo. But Cannonball had come up in the Parker school that knows of no tempo impossibilities. He met the challenge with a long solo that just about knocked Pettiford off the stand. Soon the word spread around town, and before many days had passed Cannonball’s recording career had begun. By the following year he had earned enough acclaim to enable him to renounce the academic life in favor of a full-time jazz career, touring with his own quintet.

Julian Cannonball Adderley (the name has nothing to do with ammunition, it is a corruption of cannibal, a nickname given him in tribute to his healthy appetite) was born September 15, 1928 in Tampa, Fla. His music studies at high school and college in Tallahassee between 1940 and ’48 gave him a solid background first on trumpet, later on various reed instruments. He has been a bandleader off and one for the past decade generally as a sideline during his years at Dillard high, and in 1952-53, while he was in the Army, as leader of a large dance band as well as a small group.

During a recent television appearance, when he was introduced as a representative of bop in the NBC educational series The Subject Is Jazz, Cannonball was interviewed concerning his original reaction to Bird. “Well,” he said, “I listened to all the other alto players and some of them were fine, but there still seemed to be something lacking. When I first heard Bird, I knew immediately that that was it. His style was completely original, far ahead of anything I had heard, and his harmonic sense was unorthodox.” From that point on, the impetus and inspiration behind Adderley’s work was almost exclusively Charlie Parker.

Despite the apparent disparity between the hard-bop approach of Cannonball and the supposedly cool personality of Davis, their collaboration (Adderley broke up his own quintet to join Miles in late 1957) seems quite logical in light of Miles’s own background, since he was a partner of Bird himself in the Parker quintet during its early years and can be heard on many of Bird’s earliest and greatest records.

It seems useless to add anything about Miles’s contribution to jazz, probably the most influential trumpeter alive in terms of impact on the present musical generation. What he had learned originally from Clark Terry and others in and around St. Louis he later expanded when he heard Vic Coulson in New York (“it was impossible to try to play like Dizzy, so I listened to Vic”). All this experience was slowly leavened into a new personality; what had been a bop partnership with Charles Parker grew into an individual ownership, a talent that knew the virtues of understatement as well as the beauties of a more directly assertive expression. Today Miles find orientation and guidance in a variety of sources, some of them unlikely, or at least unexpected: “All my inspiration today” he asserts, “comes from Almad Jamal, the Chicago pianist. I got the idea for this treatment of ‘Autumn Leaves’ from listening to him.”

“Autumn Leaves,” an extended treatment that invests the composition with a great deal more complexity and elaboration than has ever been heard on any previous version, starts out in a long introduction as an apparently unidentifiable G-minor melody. Miles brings in the theme, followed by Julian; later there is an ad-lib interlude by Hank Jones suggested by Miles, and a return to tempo at a slightly slower pace. Blakey remains discreet and tasteful throughout. The performance closes with another passage that seems to float in mid-air on a nameless minor theme, built around three triads: G minor, A minor and B-flat major.

“Love For Sale” opens with a pretty ad-lib Hank Jones introduction. Miles’s opening statement of the theme is muted and spare, ending the first 16 measures on a moody 9th. There are Latin interludes throughout as the three soloists take turns at the microphone; a repeated riff fades out at the end. Cannonball’s solo on this track is perhaps the most typical of all in the set; the big, round sound, the Parker-oriented phrasing and harmonic sense, consistently interesting linear development, all are in evidence.

“Somethin’ Else” is, to me, the most exciting of the five-mood-evoking tracks in this set.
It establishes at once, and sustains throughout its considerable length, a certain mood of restrained exulancy, a low-glowing Davis fire that burns contemplatively until stirred to even greater warmth by the embers of Adderley’s stimulation. The performance begins with Miles uttering short, simple phrases, mostly between the tonic and dominant of the scale, all answered in echo-and-response style by Cannonball. Through the construction of the piece is the traditional 12 measures in length, its harmonic movement is unconventional and strikingly effective in its creation of a mood. Starting out on F-7th with a flat 5th, it proceeds to D-raised 9th flat 6th, C-raised 9th flat 6th, B-flat 7th, flat 5th then back to D-raised 9th. C-raised 9th and finally moving from C to D to the tonic F. Hank’s solo on this one is in black-chord style. “That delicate touch of Hank’s” says Miles. “There’s so few that can get it. Bill Evans and Shearing and Teddy Wilson have it. Art Tatum had it.” And in tribute to Art’s manner of swinging the rhythm section he adds, “Sonny Greer used to swing like that with sticks and brushes in the Ellington band in the old Cotton Tail days.”

“One For Daddy-O,” dedicated to the popular Chicago disc jockey, Daddy-O Daylie and composed by Cannonball’s brother, Nat, returns to the 12-bar theme, but this time closer to the traditional funky blues spirit, with an inspiring and inspired beat. After the theme it is transmoded into minor blues, with Julian alternating between simple phrases and double-time statements. Miles’s solo starts out simply, with a plaintive use of the flatted 7th in measures nine and ten of his first chorus; a couple of choruses later he reaches higher than we are normally accustomed to expect from a trumpeter generally associated with the middle register of the horn; but the upward movement clearly is a natural outgrowth rather than a contrived effect.

Some months ago there was a complaint in a misinformed and insensitive article that appeared in Ebony that “Negroes are ashamed of the blues.” The white author of the piece would doubtless be incapable, on hearing this Davis solo, of perceiving the porcelain-like delicacy of his approach to the blues. Certainly this is not the blue of a man born in New Orleans and raised among social conditions of Jim Crow squalor and poverty, musical conditions of two or three primitive chord changes; this is the blues of a man who has lived a little; who has seen the more sophisticated sides of like in midwestern and eastern cities, who adds to what he has known of hardship and discrimination the academic values that came with mind-broadening experience, in music schools and big bands and combos, in St. Louis and New York and Paris and Stockholm. This is the new, the deeper and broader blues of today; it is nonetheless blue, nonetheless convincing, for the experience and knowledge its creator brings to it. Far from being ashamed of the blues. Miles is defiantly proud of his ability to show its true contemporary meaning.

Hank has a couple of solo passages, are in single-note lines, another making economic use of thirds and fourths. After the performance has reached its clearly successful climax. Miles can be heard asking for a reaction from the control booth. It need hardly be added that Alfred Lion got just what he wanted.

“Dancing In The Dark” is Cannonball’s individual showcase. “I made him play this,” says Miles, “because I remembered hearing Sarah Vaughn do it like this.” It might be added that in Julian’s two choruses, since he is not restricted to a prescribed set of lyrics, he does even more with it than Sarah was able to do.

In closing, perhaps it would be appropriate to point out, for those not familiar with the latest in terminology, that the title number of the Miles Davis original, which also provided the name for this album, is a phrase of praise. And if I may add my personal evaluation, I should like to emphasize that Cannonball and Miles and the whole rhythm section and, indeed, the entire album certainly can be described emphatically as “somethin’ else.”
______________________________________________________________________

A New Look At Somethin’ Else
Bob Blumenthal, 1999

“Miles had helped me when I first came to New York,” Cannonball Adderley recalled in a 1960 article for The Jazz Review called “Paying Dues: The Education of a Combo Leader.” (The piece was reprinted in Jazz Panorama, the 1962 anthology edited by Martin Williams.) “He told me who to avoid among the record companies, but unfortunately I didn’t take his advice. Al Lion of Blue Note was the one man he recommended…”

Adderley’s lament about not taking the trumpeter’s recommendations to heart no doubt refers to both the early albums Adderley cut for Savoy and his more extensive output for the Mercury subsidiary EmArcy. In the same article, the alto saxophonist refers to “problems at Mercury,” including limited control over the content of his albums and other restrictions made more onerous by the long-term agreement Adderley had signed with the company. This situation, plus the debts Adderley’s working quintet had accumulated through the fall of 1957, brought him to a point at which he resolved to take greater care with all aspects of his professional situation. In October 1957, he disbanded his own combo and joined Miles Davis for what would prove to be a two-year stay. Shortly thereafter, Adderley began a transition out from under the EmArcy agreement that was not fully completed until February 1959, when the Davis sextet of the time minus its leader cut the album know alternatively as The Cannonball Adderley Quintet in Chicago or Cannonball and Coltrane.

While Adderley ultimately found a supportive home on Riverside, where he began recording in the summer of 1958 and taped the live Cannonball Adderley Quintet in San Francisco disc in October 1959 that ensured the success of his reorganized band, he did mange to heed Davis’s recommendation and create one album under the guidance of Alfred Lion. (Adderley can also be found in the Blue Note catalogue under the nom de disque Buckshot La Funke on Here Comes Louis Smith; but trumpeter Smith’s February 1958 debut had actually been recorded for Transition and sold to Lion prior to its initial release.) Somethin’ Else was taped on March 9, 1958, nearly a month before the saxophonist made his first studio session under Davis’s leadership. It carries such marks of the Davis input as the stealthy arrangement of “Autumn Leaves,” which had grown much brisker by the time a later Davis band got around to recording it live in 1963, and the venerable “Love For Sale,” which the Davis band recorded for Columbia three months later (though the track remained unreleased for nearly two decades). Other signs of Milesian influence are the calm, conversational delivery of the title track and the newfound lyricism in Adderley’s playing that followed from his nightly experience at the trumpeter’s side.

Credit for the intimate, economical force of the album should really be shared among Adderley and producer Lion as well as Davis, who was clearly putting several of his most refreshing insights into practice (note his famous comment in Leonard Feather’s notes that “All my inspiration today comes from Ahmad Jamal”). The outstanding rhythm section that propels the music with such sureness and taste had ties to all three of the session’s prime movers. Hank Jones had been present on Adderley’s first recordings as a leader for Savoy, as well as on several early dates led by Cannonball’s brother Nat. Like Davis and Blue Note iron man Art Blakey, Jones had also been an associate of Adderley’s primary influence, Charlie Parker. Sam Jones was an old Florida friend of Adderley’s who had joined the saxophonist’s quintet at the end of 1956 and preceded to distinguish himself with Dizzy Gillespie, Thelonious Monk and on several recording sessions before signing back on for Adderley’s second and ultimately successful turn as a bandleader. The instant rapport achieved by the quintet is thus the product of much shared and common history, though the tensile strength that they create throughout created a totally unique feeling that can be attributed to the sensitive musicianship of all concerned, including the supposedly hard bopping leader and drummer.

In addition to the five compositions contained on the original LP issue of Somethin’ Else, a sixth title from the session was unearthed in the Blue Note vaults and initially released in Japan in 1982. Logs contained no identifying information regarding the performance, and the track was given the name “Allison’s Uncle” because Nat Adderley’s daughter was born on the day it was recorded. Further research has revealed that the mystery tune is a Hank Jones composition that the pianist recorded as “Bangoon” with the Gigi Gryce/Donald Byrd Jazz Lab quintet for an album on the Jubilee label in August 1957.


SOMETHIN' ELSE
__________________________________________________________________

Blue Note Records: CDP 546338
Miles Davis Performs Courtesy of Columbia Records


1. Autumn Leaves

2. Love For Sale
3. Somethin’ Else

4. One For Daddy-O
5. Dancing In The Dark
6. ALISON'S UNCLE*
__________________________________________________________________

SOMETHIN' ELSE

Miles Davis
– trumpet
Julian "Cannonball" Adderley – alto saxophone
Hank Jones – piano
Sam Jones – bass
Art Blakey – drums

Produced by Alfred Lion

Recorded on March 9, 1958
Digital Transfer by Ron McMaster

Cover photograph by Francis Wolff
Cover design by Reid Miles
Recording by Rudy Van Gelder
__________________________________________________________________

*Added to this historic session is a tune that remained unissued until 1982 when it was issued in limited edition in Japan. Although the piece did not have a title at the session, Adderley's brother Nat named it at the time of release. Since Nat's daughter Alison was born that very day, he thought it fitting to title the piece "Alison's Uncle." With the advent of the Compact Disc, the major session is issued in its complete form for the first time.
__________________________________________________________________

What manner of album is this? Julian “Cannonball” Adderley, the leader of the group that remains so ardently aflame throughout these sides, is an alto saxophonist cast in the Charlie Parker bop mold. Miles Davis, the other half of the front line, has been the subject of learned dissertations in which he is identified with a branch of jazz known as “cool music.” And Hank Jones, whose piano is the third important voice in the quintet, has spent a substantial part of the past two years as a sideman with a big band led by the King of Swing. Art Blakey’s drums have been associated with an alleged new school that has variously been billed as “hard bop” and “hard funk.” As for Sam Jones, bass, he is Sam Jones, bass, though lately there has been a tendency to categorize and pigeonhole even the bass players.

What is remarkable about the above-cited facts is not that members of various schools have been able to assemble and collaborate in the production of a superlative jazz album, but rather the fact that they are not really as various as the critics might have you believe. Both Cannonball and Miles agree that there has been far too much labeling of jazzmen, that there is an almost limitless degree of overlapping between schools and that what counts is not the branding of the music but the cohesive quality of their concerted efforts.

Only three years have elapsed since Cannonball fired his initial salvo at the Gotham scene. He would have been unable to sit in on the important night that marked his New York debut had not school been out. School to Julian Adderley meant Dillard High School in Fort Lauderdale, Fla., where he had been band director since 1948. Wandering north, he and his brother Nat found themselves at the Bohemia, where the incumbent group was Oscar Pettiford’s combo. It happened that Jerome Richardson had not yet arrived for work, but Julian’s offer to step into the spotlight was greeted with some wariness by Pettiford, who had never heard, nor heard of, the plump, cheerful-faced newcomer. To put him in his place, Oscar beat the band off with “I’ll Remember April” at an impossible tempo. But Cannonball had come up in the Parker school that knows of no tempo impossibilities. He met the challenge with a long solo that just about knocked Pettiford off the stand. Soon the word spread around town, and before many days had passed Cannonball’s recording career had begun. By the following year he had earned enough acclaim to enable him to renounce the academic life in favor of a full-time jazz career, touring with his own quintet.

Julian Cannonball Adderley (the name has nothing to do with ammunition, it is a corruption of cannibal, a nickname given him in tribute to his healthy appetite) was born September 15, 1928 in Tampa, Fla. His music studies at high school and college in Tallahassee between 1940 and ’48 gave him a solid background first on trumpet, later on various reed instruments. He has been a bandleader off and one for the past decade generally as a sideline during his years at Dillard high, and in 1952-53, while he was in the Army, as leader of a large dance band as well as a small group.

During a recent television appearance, when he was introduced as a representative of bop in the NBC educational series The Subject Is Jazz, Cannonball was interviewed concerning his original reaction to Bird. “Well,” he said, “I listened to all the other alto players and some of them were fine, but there still seemed to be something lacking. When I first heard Bird, I knew immediately that that was it. His style was completely original, far ahead of anything I had heard, and his harmonic sense was unorthodox.” From that point on, the impetus and inspiration behind Adderley’s work was almost exclusively Charlie Parker.

Despite the apparent disparity between the hard-bop approach of Cannonball and the supposedly cool personality of Davis, their collaboration (Adderley broke up his own quintet to join Miles in late 1957) seems quite logical in light of Miles’s own background, since he was a partner of Bird himself in the Parker quintet during its early years and can be heard on many of Bird’s earliest and greatest records.

It seems useless to add anything about Miles’s contribution to jazz, probably the most influential trumpeter alive in terms of impact on the present musical generation. What he had learned originally from Clark Terry and others in and around St. Louis he later expanded when he heard Vic Coulson in New York (“it was impossible to try to play like Dizzy, so I listened to Vic”). All this experience was slowly leavened into a new personality; what had been a bop partnership with Charles Parker grew into an individual ownership, a talent that knew the virtues of understatement as well as the beauties of a more directly assertive expression. Today Miles find orientation and guidance in a variety of sources, some of them unlikely, or at least unexpected: “All my inspiration today” he asserts, “comes from Almad Jamal, the Chicago pianist. I got the idea for this treatment of ‘Autumn Leaves’ from listening to him.”

“Autumn Leaves,” an extended treatment that invests the composition with a great deal more complexity and elaboration than has ever been heard on any previous version, starts out in a long introduction as an apparently unidentifiable G-minor melody. Miles brings in the theme, followed by Julian; later there is an ad-lib interlude by Hank Jones suggested by Miles, and a return to tempo at a slightly slower pace. Blakey remains discreet and tasteful throughout. The performance closes with another passage that seems to float in mid-air on a nameless minor theme, built around three triads: G minor, A minor and B-flat major.

“Love For Sale” opens with a pretty ad-lib Hank Jones introduction. Miles’s opening statement of the theme is muted and spare, ending the first 16 measures on a moody 9th. There are Latin interludes throughout as the three soloists take turns at the microphone; a repeated riff fades out at the end. Cannonball’s solo on this track is perhaps the most typical of all in the set; the big, round sound, the Parker-oriented phrasing and harmonic sense, consistently interesting linear development, all are in evidence.

“Somethin’ Else” is, to me, the most exciting of the five-mood-evoking tracks in this set.
It establishes at once, and sustains throughout its considerable length, a certain mood of restrained exulancy, a low-glowing Davis fire that burns contemplatively until stirred to even greater warmth by the embers of Adderley’s stimulation. The performance begins with Miles uttering short, simple phrases, mostly between the tonic and dominant of the scale, all answered in echo-and-response style by Cannonball. Through the construction of the piece is the traditional 12 measures in length, its harmonic movement is unconventional and strikingly effective in its creation of a mood. Starting out on F-7th with a flat 5th, it proceeds to D-raised 9th flat 6th, C-raised 9th flat 6th, B-flat 7th, flat 5th then back to D-raised 9th. C-raised 9th and finally moving from C to D to the tonic F. Hank’s solo on this one is in black-chord style. “That delicate touch of Hank’s” says Miles. “There’s so few that can get it. Bill Evans and Shearing and Teddy Wilson have it. Art Tatum had it.” And in tribute to Art’s manner of swinging the rhythm section he adds, “Sonny Greer used to swing like that with sticks and brushes in the Ellington band in the old Cotton Tail days.”

“One For Daddy-O,” dedicated to the popular Chicago disc jockey, Daddy-O Daylie and composed by Cannonball’s brother, Nat, returns to the 12-bar theme, but this time closer to the traditional funky blues spirit, with an inspiring and inspired beat. After the theme it is transmoded into minor blues, with Julian alternating between simple phrases and double-time statements. Miles’s solo starts out simply, with a plaintive use of the flatted 7th in measures nine and ten of his first chorus; a couple of choruses later he reaches higher than we are normally accustomed to expect from a trumpeter generally associated with the middle register of the horn; but the upward movement clearly is a natural outgrowth rather than a contrived effect.

Some months ago there was a complaint in a misinformed and insensitive article that appeared in Ebony that “Negroes are ashamed of the blues.” The white author of the piece would doubtless be incapable, on hearing this Davis solo, of perceiving the porcelain-like delicacy of his approach to the blues. Certainly this is not the blue of a man born in New Orleans and raised among social conditions of Jim Crow squalor and poverty, musical conditions of two or three primitive chord changes; this is the blues of a man who has lived a little; who has seen the more sophisticated sides of like in midwestern and eastern cities, who adds to what he has known of hardship and discrimination the academic values that came with mind-broadening experience, in music schools and big bands and combos, in St. Louis and New York and Paris and Stockholm. This is the new, the deeper and broader blues of today; it is nonetheless blue, nonetheless convincing, for the experience and knowledge its creator brings to it. Far from being ashamed of the blues. Miles is defiantly proud of his ability to show its true contemporary meaning.

Hank has a couple of solo passages, are in single-note lines, another making economic use of thirds and fourths. After the performance has reached its clearly successful climax. Miles can be heard asking for a reaction from the control booth. It need hardly be added that Alfred Lion got just what he wanted.

“Dancing In The Dark” is Cannonball’s individual showcase. “I made him play this,” says Miles, “because I remembered hearing Sarah Vaughn do it like this.” It might be added that in Julian’s two choruses, since he is not restricted to a prescribed set of lyrics, he does even more with it than Sarah was able to do.

In closing, perhaps it would be appropriate to point out, for those not familiar with the latest in terminology, that the title number of the Miles Davis original, which also provided the name for this album, is a phrase of praise. And if I may add my personal evaluation, I should like to emphasize that Cannonball and Miles and the whole rhythm section and, indeed, the entire album certainly can be described emphatically as “somethin’ else.”

 - LEONARD FEATHER,
Author of The Book of Jazz


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