RIP Earl Palmer

The founding rock 'n' roll drummer is gone. Earl Palmer, the New Orleans drummer on the seminal Little Richard and Fats Domino singles, as well as lesser known New Orleans R&B tunes of the period, died this weekend at the age of 84. The jazz blogosphere has often dealt with the issue of groove, rhythmic authority, etc.: Palmer wrote the modern book on it. The early rock 'n' roll groove, a derivative of New Orleans second line drumming in Palmer's hands, is semi-swung and semi-straight. Many younger drummers miss this nuance, playing straight eighths and the groove is robbed of its momentum. I could listen to, and play, that feel all night.

I can't even remember the first time I heard an Earl Palmer beat; my parents raised me on the "oldies" station and so the classic Little Richard and Fats Domino sides were etched in my memory from an early age. When I started getting into New Orleans R&B in high school, and first heard the name Earl Palmer as dropped by Stanton Moore of Galactic, I found him on various Allen Toussaint and Dave Bartholomew tunes, too. I gained an entirely new level of appreciation for songs like "Tutti Frutti" and "Long Tall Sally," whose rhythms I had taken for granted. May Mr. Palmer's beats live on in eternity.

Innumerable losses

It's the second anniversary of Hurricane Katrina, and while the news networks play for ratings with commemorative specials and pay lip service to the victims and survivors, very little is actually being done (except providing shelter with toxic chemicals). I hope there's a large turnout at the Essence-organized Day of Presence. My heart goes out to all those who have been and still are affected by this disaster. I never got to visit NOLA pre-Katrina, and as the mecca for most of my musical interests, it pains me that it may never be rebuilt culturally. Structurally it may well be impossible to build a city on that ground again, but to me it's the cultural environment that defines New Orleans, and the fact that artists are scattered with no means to get back or places to return is a travesty.

My friend, the great organist Vanessa Rodrigues has passed on word that Canada's Dr. Music, Doug Riley, has passed. For anybody who loved straightahead jazz in Canada, Doug was one of the leading figures in the national scene. His tremendous musicality and great spirit was evident at every gig he played. I never officially "met" him, though I saw him play both piano and organ a few times, and I was always incredibly humbled. Playing B-3 with Alex Dean's "Tenor Madness" band (5 tenors, Doug, bass and drums), he could have easily indulged in Hammond tricks and upped the showboating ante, but each solo was well-crafted and wonderful. His contribution to the Canadian jazz landscape will be missed.

More from the Toronto Star and blogger Mark Federman.

Tonight I'm hosting Jazz Euphorium on CKUT, and the plan is now to feature music from NOLA, music from Doug, and an interview I did with Kurt Rosenwinkel during Jazz Fest (which I had been previously planning to air tonight). The Rosenwinkel interview may have to wait.

RIP Max Roach

Steve Smith broke the news, at least in my blog reader. One of the last living connections to the bebop era, the last surviving member of the Massey Hall Quintet, has passed. He, Kenny Clarke and Roy Haynes laid the groundwork for all drummers after them, much like Bud Powell is the root of most pianistic developments.

I don't have much Max in my personal collection, but I've heard what must be a small sampling of the classic records countless times, and his sound is quite clear in my head. The Clifford Brown records offer definitive, textbook versions of tunes that have been studied by countless musicians. Money Jungle is an underrated piano trio recording of the highest calibre. The legacy and discography are too numerous to detail here - WKCR will have a marathon starting at noon EST. His willingness to embrace the developments of new music and of African music, his exploratory nature, is something we should all cherish and adopt.

I can't say I'm stunned - his health had been in question for some years, going back at least to his last appearance at Massey Hall commemorating the historic concert.

RIP Andrew Hill

The great jazz composer and pianist Andrew Hill lost his battle with lung cancer this morning. He was 75.

I was a latecomer to Andrew Hill's music, only getting into it around the time of his millennial "comeback" with Dusk, A Beautiful Day and Greg Osby's Invisible Hand. His sense of line was invaluable in my development, and something I'm still trying to incorporate into my music.

Remembrances at Night after Night and be.jazz. Mwanji also has a link to one of Hill's final public performances (if not his last).

Each passing year seems to be more and more devastating for the loss of masters. In this young year we've already lost Michael Brecker, Alice Coltrane, Kurt Vonnegut and Hill, among many others. I become increasingly grateful for every note I get to hear, and more so for the notes I'm blessed to create and share.

Two blocks from the edge

AP is reporting that Michael Brecker has left us, at the far too young age of 57. He had been suffering from myelodysplastic syndrome over the past couple of years, and according to reports it had turned into leukemia. I guess even with the valiant attempts made by the jazz community at large, his family never found a donor.

Brecker gets a bad rap, mostly for all his copycats with overly bright tone and fingerwork exceeding their musicality (never mind the EWI), but he created some wonderful music that went beyond his 'Trane-isms. The McCoy Tyner album he's on, Infinity, is indebted to Trane without being merely imitative, and the intro to "Delta City Blues" from Two Blocks From The Edge is a fairly direct forebearer to Chris Potter's solo intros (especially the one before "Boogie Stop Shuffle" on Lift). He's killing on Joni Mitchell's Shadows and Light, mightily matched Dewey Redman's efforts on Metheny's 80/81 and added a hefty dose of soul to any number of sessions he did in the '70s and '80s. He will be missed.

RIP Michael. (Edited to add: I've been playing Tales from the Hudson tonight, a sleeper record from the '90s. What a great band - Brecker, Joey Calderazzo, Pat Metheny, Dave Holland, and Jack DeJohnette, with McCoy Tyner guesting on a couple of tunes, including a burning "Song for Bilbao.")

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EDIT (10:45 pm): Via David R. Adler, Alice Coltrane's gone too? I never explored her music, though by all accounts her renaissance of recent years has been spectacular.

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Darcy's been blogging heavily from IAJE. Great photos and fantastic post-mortem, as usual. I can't exactly say I wish I was there - the program seems fairly similar to last year's, and given my routine appearances in NYC, the novelty of it is somewhat diminished - but it's still a cool hang. I'm happy to hear Pulse went off well, and to see some of my friends like Quinsin and Melissa Stylianou getting some props.

Diggin' on James Brown

RIP Godfather. Questlove drops some heavy retrospective on one of the most influential contributors to 20th century music. And all the Montreal coverage on his show, scheduled to have taken place January 3 of the new year, has turned into a timely eulogy for a master.

Where to begin? I guess I became truly conscious of James Brown in high school. I can't exactly remember the first time I heard his music - "I Got You (I Feel Good)" and "Papa's Got a Brand New Bag" were always around - but I became aware of his groove and his style when I started investigating funk more seriously. It may have been when the guitarist in my high school stage band hipped me to John Scofield's A Go Go record, and the handwritten lead sheet for "Chank" (which I later covered in another high school era band) had the instruction "'Cold Sweat' beat." The discovery that Miles and Herbie's fusion explorations were fueled by the effect Brown had on '70s America increased my respect for him in the midst of an adolescent jazz snob phase. Back in the day when CIUT's What Is Hip radio show was 3 hours on Tuesday afternoons, split into an hour-and-a-half each of jazz and then other groove music, the "bridge" between the two was initially Steely Dan, and later James Brown. It meant every Tuesday at 4:30 one could get on the good foot.

It's hard to overstate the importance of James Brown. I don't necessarily listen to his records regularly, but between all the people he influenced, all the artists and genres his music helped to exist, he's definitely a staple of my musical diet. Most recently, on my Cruise Ship X, the drummer admitted - confessed may be the proper verb - to having never checked out James Brown. Immediately, I knew there was a problem.

The Hardest Working Man in Show Business, Soul Brother Number One, is no more. RIP James.