Версия 'Take Ten'
## 9-11- bonus tracks
All Music Guide
========= from the cover ==========
This space is usually occupied, as most hardened record collectors know, by the prose stylings of George Avakian. I'm taking his place this time partly because he's up to his jaded ears in Newport tapes and partly because this way we'll have room on the back for pictures. This brings us instantly to the first problem, which is that George frequently starts out by saying all manner of nice things about me which I can't say about myself without blushing, and it's ridiculous to walk around blushing when you are twenty-two years old. Nevertheless I should explain who I am and all, especially for those among you who may have picked up the album because of the cover under the impression that you were getting the score from a Vincent Price movie.
Briefly, then, I'm this saxophone player from the Dave Brubeck quartet, with which I've been associated since shortly after the Crimean War. You can tell which one is me because when I'm not playing, which is surprisingly often, I'm leaning against the piano. I also have less of a smile than the other fellows. (This is because of the embouchure, or the shape of your mouth, while playing, and it is very deceptive. You didn't really think Benny Goodman was all that happy, did you? Nobody's that happy). I have won several prizes as the world's slowest alto player, as well as a special award in 1961 for quietness.
My compatriot in this venture is Jim Hall, about whom it's difficult to say anything complimentary enough. He's a beautiful musician - the favorite guitar-picker of many people who agree on little else in music, and he goes to his left very well. Some years ago he was the leading character, by proxy, in a movie starring Tony Curtis ("Sweet Smell of Success"), a mark of distinction achieved only recently by such other notables as Hugh Hefner and Genghis Khan. He's a sort of combinaison Pablo Casals and W.C. Fiels and hilariously easy to work with except he complains once in a while when I lean on the guitar.
Gene Cherico, who's becoming a thoroughly fantastic bass player, has only been playing bass for the last eight years. (Before that he was a drummer, but a tree fell on him. No kidding. That's the kind of life he leads). On Take Ten he was replaced by my sturdy buoyant hard-driving friend Eugene Wright.
Connie Kay is, of course, the superb drummer from the Modern Jazz Quartet, and if a tree ever falls on him I may just shoot myself. He's like unique.
About the tunes : Take Ten is another excursion into 5/4 or 10/8, whichever you prefer. Since writing Take Five a few years back, a number of other possibilities in the 5 & 10 bag have come to mind from time to time. Take Ten is one of them. Theme from Black Orpheus and Sambas de Orfeu, along with Embarcadero and El Prince, are in a rhythm which by now I suppose should be called bossa antigua. (It's too bad the bossa nova became such a hula-hoop promotion. The original feeling was really a wild, subtle, dedicate thing but it got lost there for a while in the avalanche. It's much too musical to be just a fad ; it should be a permanent part of the scene. One more color for the long winter night, and all).
Alone Together, Nancy and The One I Love are old standards I've always liked. They were arranged, more or less, while we were milling about drinking coffee and all. This approach, while making for a comfortable looseness, usually leads to general apprehension towards the end of the take and frequent disasters, but occasionally you get a fringe benefit. At the end of Alone Together, Connie hit the big cymbal a good whang there and it sailed off the drum set and crashed on the floor. After the hysterical laughter subsided we were getting set to tear through it one more time but we listened to it anyway, out of curiosity, and it sounded kind of nice so we left it in. That's one of the few advantages this group has over the MJQ-if Connie's cymbal hits the floor on an MJQ record date, you by God Know it, but with this group you can't really be sure.
George Avakian was benevolently present at all stages of getting this record together, and Bob Prince, doubtless overwhelmed at having a song named after him, appeared frequently with advice and counsel which was totally disregarded. I would also like to thank my father who discouraged me from playing the violin at an early age.
- Paul Desmond (1963)