Out of the Cool, released in 1960, was the first recording
Gil Evans issued after three straight albums with
Miles Davis --
Sketches of Spain being the final one before this.
Evans had learned much from
Davis about
improvisation, instinct, and space (the trumpeter learned plenty, too, especially about color, texture, and dynamic tension).
Evans orchestrates less here, instead concentrating on the rhythm section built around
Elvin Jones,
Charlie Persip, bassist
Ron Carter, and guitarist
Ray Crawford. The maestro in the piano chair also assembled a crack horn section for this date, with
Ray Beckinstein,
Budd Johnson, and
Eddie Caine on saxophones, trombonists
Jimmy Knepper,
Keg Johnson, and bass trombonist
Tony Studd, with
Johnny Coles and
Phil Sunkel on trumpet,
Bill Barber on tuba, and
Bob Tricarico on flute, bassoon, and piccolo. The music here is of a wondrous variety, bookended by two stellar
Evans compositions in
"La Nevada," and
"Sunken Treasure." The middle of the record is filled out by the lovely
standard "Where Flamingos Fly," Kurt Weill-
Bertolt Brecht's
"Bilbao Song," and
George Russell's classic
"Stratusphunk." The sonics are alternately warm, breezy, and nocturnal, especially on the 15-plus-minute opener which captures the laid-back West Coast cool
jazz feel juxtaposed by the percolating, even bubbling hot rhythmic pulse of the tough streets of Las Vegas. The horns are held back for long periods in the mix and the drums pop right up front,
Crawford's solo -- drenched in funky
blues -- is smoking. When the trombones re-enter, they are slow and moaning, and the piccolo digs in for an in the pocket, pulsing break. Whoa.
Things are brought back to the lyrical impressionism
Evans is most well known for at the beginning of
"Where Flamingos Fly." Following a four-note theme on guitar, flute, tuba, and trombone, it comes out dramatic and blue, but utterly spacious and warm. The melancholy feels like the tune
"Summertime" in the trombone melody, but shifts toward something less impressionistic and more expressionist entirely by the use of gentle dissonance by the second verse as the horns begin to ratchet things up just a bit, allowing
Persip and
Jones to play in the middle on a variety of percussion instruments before the tune takes on a New Orleans feel, and indeed traces much of
orchestral jazz history over the course of its five minutes without breaking a sweat.
"Stratusphunk" is the most angular tune here, but
Evans and company lend such an element of
swing to the tune that its edges are barely experienced by the listener. For all his seriousness, there was a great deal of warmth and humor in
Evans' approach to arranging. His use of the bassoon as a sound effects instrument at the beginning is one such moment emerging right out of the bass trombone. At first, the walking bassline played by
Carter feels at odds with the lithe and limber horn lines which begin to assert themselves in full finger popping
swing etiquette, but
Carter seamlessly blends in. Again,
Crawford's guitar solo in the midst of all that brass is the voice of song itself, but it's funky before
Johnny Coles' fine trumpet solo ushers in an entirely new chart for the brass. The final cut,
"Sunken Treasure," is a moody piece of noir that keeps its pulse inside the role of bass trombone and tuba. Percussion here, with maracas, is more of a coloration device, and the
blues emerge from the trumpets and from
Carter. It's an odd way to close a record, but its deep-night feel is something that may echo the "cool" yet looks toward something deeper and hotter -- which is exactly what followed later with
Into the Hot. This set is not only brilliant, it's fun. ~ Thom Jurek
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