Red Allen Chapters 9 - The Jazz Archive

- 112a - Addenda
THE FANTASTIC RED ALLEN New Jazz Records - Max Jones in Melody Maker 8/19/67p27 about Xtra-5032 (1962)
DON ELLIS wrote earlier this year: " Red Allen is a fantastic
trumpet player and reveals an incredible imagination. He
makes use of almost every device mechanically and physically
possible on the trumpet."
He was talking about Allen's quartet album, "Feeling Good,"
with Sammy Price on piano, but most of his comments would
apply to this set, made a few years before.
The instrumentation is the same in each case, and routines
and approaches are similar though Red sang more vocals on
the later recording.
Here he sings only on "I Ain't Got" and that excellent Don
Redman number, "Cherry" (the only tune common to both
sets). The singing, as always, is gruff and gutty, full of
punched out phrases alive with the swing, humour and
peculiar tone qualities which mark much of his trumpet work.
As for the blowing, he produces something unexpected on
every track and works hard to keep the music sounding fresh
and stimulating. He is particularly fine and fanciful at the
beginning of "Ain't Got" and "Sleepy Time," and all through
the old " House In Harlem."
Much commanding blues playing can be heard on
"St Louis," also some of the flutter-growl effects which Red
used extensively in his later years. I am not too partial to this
kind of tonal harshness, but it is one of the ways Red used to
increase tension or give variety to a longish solo outing, and it
occurs quite a few times in the set.
He was always an innovator, with an audacious outlook on
harmony, tone and phrasing; his liking for dry, even waspish
sounds, not really pleasing to the ear, can perhaps be seen as
another of his before-his-time stylisms.
Very good performances in respect of tonal manipulation are
"Just In Time" and "Biffly Blues," the latter an original
recorded by Allen on the first session made under his name.
And remarkable ideas lie thick on "Nice Work."
But all those devices mentioned by Don Ellis are on display
somewhere, and at Xtra's low price the album should be
snapped up by trumpet lovers and users. As Ellis says, again: "
Most other trumpeters of any era, with their relatively limited
scope, seem very tame and pale in comparison to Red Allen."
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JAZZ DYING? RED STILL DRIVES A CAD
MM Editor Jack Hutton calls it at the Metropole, New York, to talk to veteran New Orleans trumpeter RED ALLEN
– due in Britain next month to tour with some of our top bands. Melody Maker 3/14/64
RED ALLEN'S face looks as though it
were hewn out of teak. Especially when
he's blasting away on his King trumpet
on the bandstand of New York's Metropole,
above and behind the bar.
Red and his quartet - bassist Franklin
Skeet s, drummer Gerry Potter and pianist
Sammy Price -have a lot of opposition.
The roar of traffic on Seventh Avenue,
the thing of the bar tills and the indifference
of much of the audience.
Red takes them all on and wins.
He has a curious style of showmanship
which consists mainly of bending and
swooping, physically following his
playing, removing one hand from his
horn and shouting "Nice" and "My Man!"
in his gruff New Orleans accent.
Gusto
He hits high ones with ease ("I can
usually git what I go for") plays those
odd intervals which has earned him the
tag of the first bop trumpet player, and
growls on his instrument with gusto.
He attacks individuals at the bar with
stabbing staccato notes until they either
applaud or drink up and go. Most stay.
On the night I was there he plugged
Melody Maker over the mike, insisted
on a hand for the paper from bewildered
barflies and played "A closer walk with
thee" - presumably for me.
With hardly a pause he switched into
"Lover come back" and then dug up
"Pleasin' Paul".
His playing packs pulsating vitality, his
tone crackles and his fiery approach is ;
charged with excitement.
The set over, Red slung a massive arm
round my shoulders, growled "Nice!"
and steered me across Seventh Avenue to
a bar across the street. I wondered how
the guvnor of the Metropole took that.
On the way Red stopped at a 1964
Cadillac and opened the boot. Somehow
it seemed incongruous to see pictures of
Henry Allen Snr. and his New Orleans
Brass Band coming out of the glossy
Cadillac.
In the bar Red waved to Coleman
Hawkins and Big Chief Russell Moore,
who happened to be there (New York's
like that) and settled in a booth.
The scrapbook was produced and Brian
Rust would have gone potty as the pictures
of early New Orleans musicians
were uncovered. Oscar Celestin, Alphonse
Picou, Bunk, - they were all there.
Drinking sherry - he'd given up Scotch
for Lent - Red told me he's been at the
Metropole for ten years off and on, was
56, and was gassed at the thought of
coming to Britain next month to guest
with Alex Welsh, Sandy Brown, Bruce
Turner and Humphrey Lyttelton.
Classic
He raved about Louis : Armstrong, who
often turns up at his house unexpectedly,
and Coleman Hawkins, with whom he
plays weekend gigs.
He is a great admirer of Pee Wee
Russell and says: "I've known Pee Wee
and played with him most of my life.
And believe me, I don't play with people
I don't like."
Red paused to growl "Nice. My Man!"
and wave to some of the customer from
the Metropole who seem to have
followed him across Seventh Avenue.
Red has been a New Yorker for years
and has a good • gig connection which
makes him far more fortunate than most
of the city's jazzmen. Few run Cadillacs.
Or cars - period.
He does the odd TV spot and a few
record dates. But he doesn't own one of
the many classic sides he played on.
"Well, you know how it is man," he
grunted. "You loan them out over the
years ' . and that's the end."
Red downed the sherry and headed
back f or the Metropole for another set.
He felt like singing and out came "How
long" and 'St. Louis Blues". Although
only ten people or so were present the
excitement came back with Allen.
One senses he's having a ball and the
feeling comes across.
Just as the bar was closing-at 2.30 am
and we were saying goodnight, Red lost
a cuff link when he gave one of his
stylish flourishes. Staff and customers
searched the Metropole without success.
"Never mind," growled Red, "I'll send
this one to Wingie Manone."
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