# CD review: Eric Dolphy – Outward Bound To Out To Lunch Revisited 2023: Video, CD cover

- Link: https://jazzblues.eu/2023/04/19/cd-review-eric-dolphy-outward-bound-to-out-to-lunch-revisited-2023-video-cd-cover/
- Published: 2023-04-19T00:04:14+01:00
- Author: https://JazzBlues.EU

**Tip! \*In process of stocking\* In his comprehensive 1966 Jazz Monthly article,“
Eric Dolphy,” Jack Cooke reported that the advance buzz aboutduet passages for bass
clarinet and bass, “Something Sweet, Something Tender” approximated the hinge-like
ballads that were a perennial feature on Blue Note A sides.**

Given its dedicatee – the flutist renowned for recording works like Varèse’s “Density
21.5,” which Dolphy performed at the Ojai Festival in 1962 – “Gazzelloni” is surprisingly
boppish, ending the side with exuberant energy. A presumably unintended consequence
of the sequencing is that Dolphy’s bass clarinet and flute were frontloaded on the
A side, while his alto saxophone was relegated to the B side, where Blue Note also
tended to place a session’s longer performances.

Cooke contended that the title piece and “Straight Up and Down” made the case that
Dolphy could no longer be considered a transitional figure, that the harmonic freedom
and rhythmic displacements of his music essentially placed him in a new context.
This necessitated new approaches to interactivity within the the Blue Note recording
signaled a possible “new upward trend in Dolphy’s recording career.”

This notion is supported by the substitution of Blue Note regular Hubbard and teenage
phenom Anthony Williams for Woody Shaw and J.C. Moses of the Conversations quintet–
by then, members Bobby Hutcherson and Richard Davis, with whom Dolphy had recorded
the enduring duet version of “Alone Together,” were also recording for the label.

The album also benefited from Blue Note’s knack for sequencing tracks into two flowing,
complementary sides, which explains the album opening with the Monk-inspired “Hat
and Beard,” even though its jaunty mood was quickly atomized by Dolphy’s squalling
bass clarinet solo. Despite deeply shadedensemble, where lead and support roles 
merge and mingle.

Dolphy had the right colleagues for this endeavor, as they constantly enhanced the
music by communing in this middle ground. The winding path between Outward Bound
and Out to Lunch is easily explained, given the exigencies of a freelance musician
blazing trails few were ready or equipped to follow.

This is what led him to his fateful trip to Europe two months after making Out to
Lunch. Had he returned after his projected one-year stay, married to Joyce Mordecai,
Dolphy may well have picked up where he left off. But we will never know.

It will be difficult to avoid clichés here. In their defense, clichés originate 
from an authentic place; they are mostly an attempt, at least initially, to articulate
something honest and immutable. And so: Eric Dolphy is among the foremost supernovas
in all of jazz (Clifford Brown, Booker Little and Lee Morgan — all trumpeters incidentally—
also come quickly to mind): he burned very brightly and very briefly, and then he
was gone. Speaking of clichés, not a single one of the artists just mentioned — 
all of whom left us well before their fortieth birthdays — died from a drug overdose.
Dolphy, the grand old man of the bunch, passed away at the age of 36, in Europe.
How? After lapsing into a diabetic coma. Why? The doctors on duty presumed the black
musician who had collapsed in the street was nodding off on a heroin buzz. To attempt
to put the magnitude of this loss in perspective, consider that Charles Mingus, 
perhaps the most difficult and demanding band leader of them all, declared Dolphy
a saint, and regarded his death as one of a handful of setbacks he could never completely
get over. Dolphy holds the distinction of quite possibly being the one artist nobody
has gone on record to say a single negative thing about. His body of work, the bulk
of which was recorded during an almost miraculously productive five-year stretch,
is deep, challenging, and utterly enjoyable. _Outward Bound_, then, holds a special
place as his debut recording as a leader.

Dolphy often draws comparisons to Ornette Coleman, another avatar of the free jazz
movement. Not surprisingly, the two were friendly and obviously saw, in one another,
a reflection of the intensely sensitive and eccentric misfit. But where Coleman 
sought to recreate the temple by first razing its very foundation, Dolphy constructed
his singular edifice in accordance with a vision rooted on firm and familiar ground:
the bebop innovations of Charlie Parker (who, fittingly, was initially ostracized
by many of the mere mortals who still believed the jazz world was flat). Suffice
it to say, like any artist who helps redefine the rules by recreating them, Dolphy
had to first master the idiom before daring to transcend it. Although already intelligent
and advanced beyond his years, he was 31 at the time of this recording, making him
somewhat of a late bloomer by typical jazz icon standards (young hotshot Freddie
Hubbard, for instance, was only 21 on this session). Point being, Dolphy served 
his apprenticeship wisely, and his incalculable hours in the woodshed left the sawdust
offstage and off record, so that when his time finally came, it was _on_.

One of the paradoxical reasons Dolphy tends to get overlooked, even slighted, is
not because of any lack of proficiency, but rather an abundance of it. It does not
quite seem possible — particularly for lazier critics and ringleaders amongst the
jazz intelligentsia — that such a relatively young musician could master three instruments.
In actuality, Dolphy was an exceedingly accomplished alto sax player, drawing freely(
pun intended) from Bird while pointing the way toward Braxton. Perhaps most egregiously
disregarded is his flute playing, which not only achieves a consistent and uncommon
beauty, but more than holds its own against fellow multi-reedists Yusef Lateef and
Rahsaan Roland Kirk. Nevertheless, it is the signature, unmistakable sounds he makes
with the bass clarinet that ensure his place in the pantheon: no one of note, excepting
Harry Carney, employed this instrument on the front line before Dolphy and, arguably,
no one has used it as effectively and indelibly since.

_Outward Bound_, aside from its import as Dolphy’s inaugural session as a leader,
assembles what could accurately — if unfairly — be described as one of jazz music’s
all-time second tier collectives. Whenever discussions of the unrivaled masters 
occur (whatever those types of discussions are worth), none of these players make
the first cut: you hear about Monk and Ellington and Tatum and maybe Hancock (for
starters) before you ever hear about Jaki Byard; you hear about Armstrong, Miles,
and Clifford Brown before you hear about Freddie Hubbard; you hear about Max Roach,
Art Blakey, Elvin Jones, and Tony Williams before you eventually get around to Roy
Haynes; you don’t hear much of anything about George Tucker (and this is unfortunate);
and you hear about Parker, Coltrane, Rollins, and maybe a half-dozen legitimate 
heavyweight contenders before most folks might happen to mention Eric Dolphy. All
of which is to say that this session brings together a handful of the finest musicians
who ever played their respective instruments, and it’s more than a little coincidental
that, when put in the same environment with a common purpose, there was an affinity
and extra edge they conjured up, seemingly out of nowhere.

The tone is set with a Dolphy original, “G.W.” — a tribute to trumpeter, bandleader,
and early mentor Gerald Wilson — which is a calling card and statement of purpose:
not only does each musician get ample time and space to have their say, but the 
composition can be heard as the first major indication of where Dolphy was heading:
up and away from convention and into a freer, flowing space — outward bound.

After a throat-clearing flourish from Haynes, Dolphy and Hubbard enter in electrifying
unison, a sound that still sounds brazen and irreverent today; one can easily imagine
the ears of jazz “purists” turning sideways in 1961. Dolphy’s extended solo evinces
his facility with the alto saxophone: he packs notes into undulating clusters that,
of course, call to mind Charlie Parker, but this voice, which at once cries and 
laughs, is intense without being off-putting, ferocious yet still friendly. Jaki
Byard takes a typical romp down memory lane, rolling and tumbling from stride to
bebop and beyond. Repeated listens reveal how active his fingers — and mind — always
are; he is never busy or noisy, yet he constantly colors the corners of the canvass,
urging the vibe in and out of focus while offering running commentary, a playful
and authoritative raconteur.

The group then tackles the familiar standard “On Green Dolphin Street”, which is
a showcase for Hubbard’s muted trumpet and Dolphy’s bass clarinet. While “G.W.” 
introduces the early foundation of a new type of language, here Dolphy uses that
language to translate a classic text, encapsulating his greatest gift: making the
old sound new and vice versa.

Haynes, as always, is too cool to call unnecessary attention to himself. Content
to provide supple, solid support for the soloists, he works subtle wonders while
George Tucker’s bass is the calming and utterly professional presence throughout.
It is, in fact, Haynes and Tucker whose contributions are most amplified by the 
excellent remastering of this release — there is a clarity and immediacy absent 
in earlier editions. “Les”, another tribute from Dolphy (this time for trombonist
Lester Robinson), presents another scorching alto sax workout and, like “G.W.”, 
allows Hubbard and Byard to share the spotlight.

Hubbard and Dolphy duel throughout the piece, trading solos that invariably recall
Coltrane and Davis from _that_ quintet’s celebrated tenure. Dolphy remains with 
the alto sax on “245”, but Hubbard takes center stage bursting with ideas and energy,
offering his own introduction of sorts to the imminent run of classic albums he 
would make, leading his own bands, over the next decade and change.

Finally, the flute makes its first appearance on the winsome cover of the Rodgers-
Hart standard “Glad To Be Unhappy”, an especially inspired and affecting choice.
Dolphy speaks, sings and cries, conveying beautiful feelings trying to break out
from under some inexpressible sadness. Everyone rises to the occasion for “Miss 
Toni” — another remake and the song that concluded the original release — a rollicking,
exultant showcase for the entire group: Haynes and Tucker lock in while Dolphy, 
once more on the bass clarinet, sprints out of the gate, again engineering a solo
that swings with the best any hard bop has to offer, yet is uniquely off-kilter 
with that slightly disorienting, distinctive sound. Hubbard blows sparks out of 
his horn while Byard prances and prods, adding commas, parentheses and exclamation
points as he so pleases. It seems quite fortuitous that this particular session 
was recorded on April 1, making the first bonus track, very appropriately entitled“
April Fool”, extra special, particularly as it provides another opportunity to hear
Dolphy on flute. Along with an alternate take of “245”, the real treat is the other
version of “G.W.”, which stretches out over ten minutes and affords the soloists—
especially Dolphy — to cut loose with greater urgency and abandon.

Admittedly, some of these remastered classics are less than essential: if you already
own the original, there’s no real need to cough up the extra cash. This is most 
definitely an exception: the significantly improved sound quality (typical of all
the Rudy Van Gelder reissues) along with three bonus cuts makes this an imperative
purchase. If you’ve never experienced the joy that is Eric Dolphy, there is no better
place to begin since this is where it all officially began. If, in the final analysis,
it is not the unqualified masterpiece that _Out To Lunch_ would be, and does not
possess the truly strange and unfathomable wonder of _Out There_, it can contentedly
settle for _merely_ being a great album. _Outward Bound_, in sum, is a top tier 
effort from a tremendous quintet, and it signals the start of an abbreviated but
incendiary burst of creative genius. Let there be no doubt that Eric Dolphy warrants
mention amongst jazz music’s all-time immortals.

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