Billie Holiday, Mal Waldron and Me…

52nd Street was an energizing experience. Minton's had a front bar and a back room where the rhythm section would be pumping away on one tune, and the horns would solo chorus after chorus, getting more furious. Then the pianist would get tired and another would take over. It kept going like that all night long. I heard (Thelonious) Monk there even before I heard his records. He was a big man, austere and imposing. He looked like he had his whole world around him, and you wouldn't penetrate that world. His sound wasn't immediately attractive to me. The way he hit the piano was so strange, but later it grew on me. It's an acquired taste.
Mal Waldron
That tune ("Soul Eyes") was written for John Coltrane. I knew he was on the date the next day. The way the set up was in those days, they'd tell me who was on the set and then they'd tell me to write six or seven compositions for the date. So I had to stay up all night long and write the changes, and the next morning I'd come in to Hackensack, New Jersey and make the records. Then I'd go home and write some more music for the next date.
Mal Waldron, pianist and composer for Prestige Records

All the thousands of people he’s played with love Mal because he makes them sound good, and he sounds good himself. He gets a wonderful sound out of the piano, and he’s got his own style, his own angle, a vast knowledge of structure, of harmony, of rhythm, time and space. He’s an ideal partner.
Steve Lacy
Well, music is a language, and as long as you have a large enough vocabulary, you can communicate with anybody else. And if the vocabulary is the same, then you can communicate even better. Steve and I had pretty much the same vocabulary.
Mal Waldron on his frequent duo collaborator, Steve Lacy

A wonderful accompanist, arranger, composer and pianist, Mal Waldron flies well below the radar. Many are not aware of his accomplishments and enduring influence compared to his more celebrated contemporaries. Part of his obscurity stems from his decision to decamp to Europe in the 1960s where he settled until his passing in 2002, joining a long and esteemed list of jazz brethren expatriates, Kenny Clarke, Dexter Gordon, Johnny Griffin, Bud Powell and Ben Webster among them. As Mal trenchantly observed, "When I got to Europe, it was like the other side of the coin. In America, if you were black and a musician at that time, it was two strikes against you. And in Europe, if you were black and a musician, it was two strikes for you, so I decided to go for that." It was a smart trade.

Born in Harlem in New York City, Mal and his family moved to Jamaica, Queens when he was only four. The family was quite musical, although Mal's father was a bit of a martinet, "I was forced to take piano lessons, really forced. I didn’t like playing classics, because I had to do it the same way every time, otherwise I got my knuckles rapped. But if I didn’t do it, my father would pound me in the face or something like that. Fear is a great motivator.” Notwithstanding his father's brutish and churlish oversight, Mal's piano skills developed initially with the study of classical music. His love of jazz blossomed when he heard the indelible tenor saxophone of Coleman Hawkins and his signature song "Body and Soul." Mal remembered, "My first jazz experiences were on the saxophone. I bought an alto, since I couldn't afford a tenor. I got a big, hard reed and an open lay on the mouthpiece so it would sound like a tenor, and I got the music for "Body and Soul" from DownBeat, and for five minutes, I was Coleman Hawkins."

The relationship and infatuation with the alto saxophone didn't last, "I was trying to emulate Charlie Parker, but I couldn't arrive, so I hocked my horn and went back to the piano. I found my basis was strong enough at least to enable me to play the changes right." Drafted into the US Army in 1943, Mal was stationed at West Point and he would take the train in on weekends to see his jazz heroes, Art Tatum, Bud Powell, and Thelonious Monk. When he was discharged, Mal attended Queens College on the G.I. Bill where he studied Music Composition and Theory with Professor Karol Radhaus, and played sessions around New York City honing his skills.

***4, 5, and 6 (1956) signed by Mal, Donald Byrd, Jackie McLean***

His talents were noticeable and Mal was recruited by the redoubtable Charles Mingus, a towering figure, to join his band in 1954. Mal recalled, "Mingus was like my older brother. He gave me a lot of advice and helped me develop into a mature musician. I was into imitating Bud Powell from things like "Bud's Bubbles," making Bud's runs and so on. Mingus said, 'Don't copy anyone. That's not the way. An ordinary musician can play everybody, but a jazz musician can only play himself.' That stuck, and I started working on my own style which entailed not thinking of changes as changes, but as sounds. So that a cluster would do for a change, just a group of notes could be an impetus for soloing. I learned that the piano was a percussive instrument, you beat on it. We realized that jazz is the music for the people who were not satisfied with the status quo. You'd punch the piano as though you were striking somebody in your way."

Pugilistic pianism aside, Mal became the house pianist for Prestige Records, a celebrated record label known for important and seminal recordings by John Coltrane, Tadd Dameron, Miles Davis, Jackie McLean, Sonny Rollins and so many others. Mal described his responsibilities thusly, "Composing went along with improvising, which is instant composition. I'd make my changes first, nice blowable changes that you could solo on beautifully, and then write a tune over them. My life consisted of thinking about melodies in the daytime, writing them at night, and recording them the next day." Such diligence, hard work and preternatural talent led to more than four-hundred compositions, including the jazz standards “Soul Eyes," "The Git-Go," "Fire Waltz," and "Left Alone," an aching ballad with lyrics written by Billie Holiday.

***Jackie McLean & Co. (1957) signed by Mal, Jackie McLean***

Near the end of her tragic life, Billie recruited Mal to accompany her in 1957, "It was really an accident, because her pianist just conked out, he couldn't function any more... so it was an accident, but it was a beautiful accident for me." Mal recorded and performed with Billie until her untimely demise in 1959, and they co-wrote “Left Alone,” a beautiful blues ballad. Mal later recalled the circumstances, "She wrote the words and I wrote the melody. We were on a plane going from New York to San Francisco. It took more time than it does now because they were propeller planes. She just wanted to write a tune about her life. so she wrote those lyrics, and I wrote the melody. By the time we got off the plane, it was finished." Thanks and praises for propeller planes!

Though Billie's lyrics are bereft, forlorn and forsaken, Mal's melody brims with beauty and hope:

Where's the love that's made to fill my heart?

Where's the one from whom I'll never part?

First they hurt me. then desert me

I'm left alone, all alone

There's no house that I can call my home

There's no place from which I'll never roam

Town or city, it's a pity

I'm left alone, all alone

Seek and find they always say

But up to now, it's not that way

Maybe fate has let him pass me by

Or perhaps we'll meet before I die

Hearts will open, but until then

I'm left alone, all alone

***Lady In Satin (1958) Billie sings, Mal plays!***

Although Billie died before she was able to record "Left Alone," Mal released several instrumental versions and also accompanied the great Abbey Lincoln in 1961 as she delivered a stirring vocal. Mal's technique for accompanying singers was simple and direct, as he described, "Well, it's really support. I just lay down a blanket for them to walk on, the blanket is me, and they walk on me... It really helps me to improvise, because the words give it a completely different atmosphere to improvise on. You can improvise on the words alone, instead of just improvising on the changes and the harmony and the melody." He makes it sound so easy, but how tricky and devilish it is to execute, except in the skilled hands of a master.

Mal's career almost unraveled as quickly as it began. While on the road in Chicago with Max Roach in 1963, Mal overdosed on heroin, an unfortunate drug of choice, "I couldn't remember where I was. I couldn't remember anything about the piano or anything else. I lost my coordination, and my hands were shaking all the time. I spent six-seven months in East Elmhurst Hospital, where they gave me shock treatments and spinal taps and all kinds of things to relieve the pressure on my mind." It was an arduous recovery for the next two years as Mal had to relearn the piano and his extensive song catalog. Finally in 1965, his skills sufficiently restored, the film director Marcel Carne asked Mal to write the film score for Three Bedrooms In Manhattan. Mal accepted his gracious offer and he flew to Paris. In Europe, Mal thrived and, over the years, he lived in Paris, Rome and Munich, where he remained until his death in 2002. Mal found the reception gratifying, "The main thing that affected me in Europe is their respect for the music. They came out and made an effort to understand your music if they didn't understand it. When they were done, they showed respect and appreciation that you were an artist, which was not true in America." Equally remarkable, Mal stayed clean and free from all drugs, "I found in Europe, there was so much respect and love for me that I didn't need any drugs. I didn't need any drugs at all."

***Sempre Amore (1987) signed by Mal, Steve Lacy***

Erin and I were lucky to see Mal perform at the Village Vanguard in New York City in 1996. It was a rare stateside appearance by Mal at the venerable and intimate club, and he was joined by his longtime friend Steve Lacy on soprano saxophone. It was a Tuesday night late show and the environment was loose and low key, as the show wasn’t sold out and there wasn’t a lot of fussing, just two master musicians collaborating and creating. The program was Monk, Mingus and some knotty originals, featuring a perfect display of their wonderful interplay and longstanding chemistry. Mal could do it all, he could swing, play bebop and even mix in some dissonance. It was a remarkable and engaging performance. After the show, I chatted briefly with Mal and he was gracious as he signed his albums. As he signed Impressions, Mal confided, "You know, this is one of my favorite albums." I thanked him for his time and, especially his music.

Mal Waldron, a wonderful composer and pianist, and so terribly underrated. Whether he accompanies John Coltrane, Billie Holiday or Charles Mingus, Mal only plays himself!