This section includes articles (by authors with last names G through K) from periodicals and newspapers. In some cases I have provided extensive excerpts from these documents if not the full text. My intent is to provide greater access to available published information about LaFaro. In most cases the original journals in which these articles first appeared are now buried in library microfilm collections and not readily accessible.
Some articles are in French. I apologize for not translating them at this time (a project on my list for the near future) but anyone with a modicum of language skill will be able to decipher the gist of what is meant. The essay 'Le Phare LaFaro' by Jean-Pierre Binchet, is the best written critical commentary yet on LaFaro in my opinion.
Table of Contents
| Gilonis | "Remembering Scott Lafaro" Oyster Bay Review 11 (1999) |
| Ginibre | “Dictionnaire de la Contrabasse” Jazz Magazine (mai 1969) |
| Gitler | [Bill Evans Trio 1961 Village Vanguard recording] Swing Journal (Jun 02) [Japan] |
| Gleason | "Monterey: The Afternoons" Down Beat (November 10, 1960) |
| Goldsby | “Scott LaFaro” Bass Player (July/August 1992) |
| Gopnik | "That Sunday: . . ." The New Yorker (August 13, 2001) |
| Heckman | "Jimmy Garrison: After Coltrane" Down Beat (March 9, 1967) |
| Hentoff | "[Interview with Cecil Taylor] Down Beat (February 25, 1965) |
| Hunt | “The Contemporary Approach to Jazz Bass,” Jazz & Pop (August 1969) |
| Hunt | “The Musician's Musician: . . . " Jazz and Pop (July 1967) |
| Kopel | "Scott LaFaro" Les Cahiers du Jazz (1969?) |
| Kolstein | “The 'LaFaro Prescott' Restoration” Bass World: . . . (Spring 1988) |
Gilonis, Harry. "Remembering Scott Lafaro [sic, in recté LaFaro]" Oyster Boy Review 11 (1999). A poem only found on-line it seems. Text follows:
REMEMBERING SCOTT LAFARO
Harry Gilonis
For August Kleinzahler
shed notes
leave
the
double bass
a gentle
heart
strongly
held
-- for who's
absolved
from
the play
of the
mind?--wind
and light
move the
leaves
day
and night
leave no
moves
scored
and cut
my foolish
heart
Ginibre, J. L., and P. Carles, “Dictionnaire de la Contrabasse,” Jazz Magazine 166 (mai 1969) pp. 28-61. LaFaro entry, p. 45.
“LAFARO (SCOTT) Rocco Scott LaFaro. Ne le 3 avril 1936 a Newark (New Jersey), decede le 7 [sic] juillet 1961 pres de Geneva (New York). Fils d'un violoniste, il entreprend des etudes classiques de clarinette et de saxophone tenor au conservatoire d'Ithaca et a Syracuse. Il etudie ensuite la contrabasse et devient musicien professionel a l'age de dix-neuf ans, en 1955, lorsqu'il part en tournee avec l'orchestre de Buddy Morrow.
Il quitte cette formation en septembre 1956 a Los Angeles et entre dans le quartette de Chet Baker (Bobby Timmons, piano; Lawrence Marable, batterie). Il vit chez Herb et Lorraine Geller, etudie son instrument comme un forcene et, en decembre 1957, se rend a Chicago pour travailler avec Ira Sullivan et Pat Moran. En janvier 1958, il revient sur la cote Ouest, joue avec Stan Getz, Vic Feldman et, en 1959, se fixe a New York.
En decembre de cette annee-la, il entre dans le trio de Bill Evans et acquiert une populairite mondiale aupres des amateurs de jazz. En juin 1961, il quitte le pianiste (provisoirement, croit-il) pour jouer dans le quartette de Stan Getz avec lequel il participe au festival de Newport. Le 7 juillet, il trouve la mort dans un accident de la route.
Booker Little a dit de lui: `Scott est le plus fantastique technicien que j'aie jamais entendu. Il fait bien davantage qu'accompagner. Ce qu'il fait harmoniquement est difficile mais il n'a aucun probleme. De tous les bassistes que je connais, il est le seul qui converse derriere vous.'
L'influence de LaFaro, qui a rompu avec la tradition du battement regulier pour devenir une voix melodique supplementaire de l'orchestra, a ete considerable: presque tous les bassistes contemporains lui sont en partie redevables de leur style (Gary Peacock, Chuck Israels, Jimmy Garrison, Steve Swallow, Eddie Gomez, etc.).
Microsillions avec Pat Moran (Audio Fidelity), Cal Tjader (Fantasy), Vic Feldman, Hampton Hawes (Contemporary), Herb Geller, Ornette Coleman, Gunther Schuller (Atlantic), Booker Little (Time), et Bill Evans (`Portraits in Jazz' /Riverside 315; `Explorations' /Riverside 351; `Sunday at the Village Vanguard' /Riverside 376). Sur Scott LaFaro, voir dans `Jazzmag' : `Le Phare LaFaro', portrait par Jean-Pierre Binchet (no 153).”
Gitler, Ira. [Bill Evans Trio 1961 Village Vanguard recording] Swing Journal 56:8 (issue #7, July 2002) pp. 203-210. In Japanese.
Issue #7 (July 2002) of Swing Journal has a cover photograph of Herbie Hancock.
At p. 204 "Interview and Text by Ira Gitler"
At pp. 205, 207, 209 -- photos of Evans, LaFaro, Motian, and Orrin Keepnews(?) by Steve Schapiro.
At p. 208 -- cameo photograph of Helene LaFaro-Fernandez, Scott's oldest sister. Helene wrote a remembrance paragraph about her brother for this issue of Swing Journal.
Article supports the June 2002 re-release of Bill Evans: The Complete Live At the Village Vanguard 1961. Tokyo: Victor Entertainment, Inc., 2002. Catalog code: VICJ-60951~3. A 3-CD boxed set that is arranged as follows:
Disc 1 (afternoon set one -- 6 tracks; afternoon set two -- 3 tracks);
- Disc 2 (evening set one -- 4 tracks; evening set two -- 6 tracks);
- Disc 3 (evening set three -- 7 tracks).
An asterisk "*" by track 2 of afternoon set one on Disc 1 may indicate something previously un released.
Gleason, Ralph J. "Monterey: The Afternoons" Down Beat 27:23 (November 10, 1960) 18, 47.
"If the Monterey Jazz Festival had done nothing in its three years but present the two afternoon programs of this year's festival, it would have justified its existence. The two afternoons were as far apart as can be imagined in content and presentation . . . from Miriam Makeba singing an African tribal song to Gunther Schuller's Abstraction, presenting Ornette Coleman in an avant garde 'third stream' combination of improvisation and composition."
[Saturday afternoon, September 24, 1960]
"John Coltrane opened the program with a set of three numbers that displayed his fantastic facility, his increasing power of immediate communication, and a surprising (to some of the audience, at any rate) lyricism in both Naima and My Favorite Things. McCoy Tyner, his pianist, was particularly impressive on the emotionally moving Equinox.
Coltrane's set was followed by two Schuller compositions, Abstraction and Conversation. They were played by an instrumental ensemble consisting of a string quartet, two string basses, guitar, and percussion. The personnel was the Baker String Quartet (Israel Baker, first violin; Ralph Schaefer, second cello; Alvin Dinken, viola; Armand Copra, cello), Red Mitchell and Scott LaFaro, basses; Jim Hall, guitar; Larry Bunker, drums, and Ornette Coleman as special soloist. For Conversation the personnel was the same, except that Jim Hall and Scott LaFaro dropped out and John Lewis played piano and Victor Feldman vibes.
. . .
After these two pieces, Coleman played a set of his own with his group . . ."
See also John Tynan's Monterey fest article in the same Down Beat issue.
Goldsby, John. “Scott LaFaro,” Bass Player (July/August 1992) pp. 72-73. Includes a transcription by Bob Bauer of the composition “Detour Ahead” by Carter, Ellis, and Frigo.
This article summarizes LaFaro's career and discusses his approach to improvisation with discussion of one solo in particular, that being LaFaro's solo during performance of “Detour Ahead”, a selection from the Bill Evans album, Waltz For Debby.
Mentions an Audio Fidelity recording, Stan Getz Special: Newport Jazz Festival, as LaFaro's last recording.
Gopnik, Adam. "That Sunday: Jazz's perfect afternoon, forty years later." The New Yorker (August 13, 2001), pp. 30-33.
This essay about New York at the beginning of Summer 1961, particularly the quality of one special Sunday in New York in June at the Village Vanguard jazz club when the Bill Evans Trio was recorded 'live', the results of which may be heard on the Bill Evans recordings Sunday at the Village Vanguard and Waltz For Debby.
Framed in a Proustian evocation of New York's disdain for remembrance of things past, Gopnik's essay attempts just that -- an attempt to evoke the meditative quality that listeners still find in these Evans-LaFaro-Motian recordings.
Gopnik discusses these Vanguard sessions with Orrin Keepnews, their original producer; with Lorraine Gordon, owner of the Village Vanguard, and drummer Paul Motian.
Excerpts:
"What was striking about Bill [Evans] from the beginning wasn't the quality of his playing -- there were a lot of good players -- but the quality of his self-criticism. He was always genuinely ready to learn. The trouble with Bill -- and, as much as anything, that was the cause for our deciding to record him live -- was always persuading Bill to play at all. He had very low self-esteem. That's what drew him to Scott. Scott was already a rumor even before he was a whisper -- everyone had heard of this phenomenal bass player, and when they started working together what was clear from the first was that Bill had something very different in mind from the normal interplay of piano and bass. Most so-called trio records are just an accompanied piano player -- the bass player's function is to emancipate the pianist's left hand. Bill was looking for something very different -- a joined-together kind of thing." (Gopnik quoting Keepnews)
"We were great . . . , but look at this [referring to his 'gig book'] -- I got one hundred and thirty-six dollars for the famous legendary record, one hundred and ten for the gig, and one hundred and seven for the second record. Look at the gig book: here we are at the D.C. Showplace. That's were Bill said, first night, second night, 'Ladies and gentlemen -- I don't feel like playing tonight. Can you understand that?' And they kind of did. Bill was sincere, and he had a great sense of humor. He was good, but I was good with him, you know, because I listened. We listened to each other, and you can still hear us listening when we play. Scott was tough on Bill. He was the one man who could be tough on Bill. Like if he didn't think the music sounded right -- if it was great but not perfect -- he'd say to Bill, 'Man, you're fucking up the music. Go look at yourself in the mirror!' He'd even say it to me, when he didn't think I was playing right. And he had only been playing the bass for a few years." (Gopnik quoting Motian)
[on LaFaro's death] "I was sleeping and the phone rang, and it was Bill," Paul Motian recalled. "He said, 'Scott's dead,' and I said, 'Yeah,' and I went back to sleep. And the next morning I said to my wife, 'Man, I had the weirdest dream last night. I dreamed that Bill called me and said that Scott had been killed!' So I called Bill right away at that apartment over on West eighty-something to tell about the dream." After Scott LaFaro's death, Bill Evans became numb with grief; it took him months to recover, and there are people who think that he never did recover. Paul Motian: "Bill was in a state of shock. Look at my gig book: nothing, nothing, nothing with Bill, until December [1961]. Bill was like a ghost." (Gopnik quoting Motian)
[Gopnik on Evans's tribute to LaFaro] "One of the mysteries of Evans's career is that, after that Sunday, he continued to play 'Porgy' [Gershwin's "I Loves You, Porgy"] over and over again, almost obsessively -- but almost always as a solo number. Paul Motian gave this some thought. "I don't think there was any reason -- no, wait, I remember something now. While we were listening to that number on the tape, Bill was a wreck, and he kept saying something like "Listen to Scott's bass, it's like an organ! It sounds so big, it's not real, it's like an organ, I'll never hear that again." Could that, his always playing it without a bass afterwards, have been a sort of tribute to Scott? I kind of doubt it, but then again maybe so.' When we hear Evans play 'Porgy,' we are hearing what a good Zen man like Evans would have wanted us to hear, and that is the sound of one hand clapping after the other hand is gone."
Heckman, Don. "Jimmy Garrison: After Coltrane." Down Beat 34:05 (March 9, 1967) 18-19, 40.
This is a most interesting essay on bassist Jimmy Garrison (3 March 1934-7 April 1976) who was the rhythmic underpinning of the John Coltrane Quartet at its epitome. I heard him with Coltrane at the Olympia Theatre in Paris in March 1960 -- have his, Coltrane's and Tyner's autographs on the record jacket of my copy of My Favorite Things -- and again at the Half Note in New York in 1965. Garrison also played and recorded with the Ornette Coleman group and played with Bill Evans and Stan Getz, 'crossing paths,' as he [Garrison] puts it, with Scott LaFaro', according to Heckman. (p. 19)
Garrison on influences:
"I listened to guys like Charlie Mingus, of course -- in fact, I studied with him for about a month -- and Red Mitchell, but my main influence as far as the bass in the rhythm section is concerned was Percy Heath. When I first heard Scotty LaFaro, I said, 'Well, there are a lot of things he is doing that are as fast as greased lightning.' Now I don't feel that way about the bass; so there's no need for me to get hung up with it. Because that style is what was really catching on then, and, as you know, a lot of bass players are playing that way now.
'During that time I was interested in chords, in ragas, in scale things; so, since Scotty's playing did have an impact on me, I said, 'Now what can I do with it?' And I had to spend a lot of time thinking about it, because there was the competitive thing involved as far as bass playing was concerned, too, and I wanted to make my own contribution. So I thought this -- 'Since he's going a mile a minute, so to speak, why not try to slow things down?' And this is primarily what I've been trying to do; not slow things down just for the sake of slowing them down, but -- thinking about chords and triple stops and even quadruple stops -- to see how they work if they're slowed down so you can really hear what's happening. I even figured out a way in which I can play scales with all four strings stopped." (p. 19)
Hentoff, Nat. [Interview with Cecil Taylor] Down Beat (February 25, 1965). Reprinted as program notes for the recording, Nefertiti: The Beautiful One Has Come, New York: Arista Freedom [Records], 1975. Arista AL-1905. 2 sound discs : stereo, 33 1/3 rpm ; 12 in. Recorded November 23, 1962 at the Cafe Montmartre, Copenhagen, Denmark.
“Recording [says Taylor] gives [Bill] Evans's piano a scope of highs and lows that his original touch cannot achieve. This is particularly clear with bass players. Take the late Scott LaFaro. He was thought to have a fantastic technique, but my definition of technique is not only the ability to play fast but the ability to be heard. To have a fat sound. LaFaro, however, had a minute sound. By contrast, Charlie Haden really had something going. But engineers made LaFaro sound big.”
Hunt, David C. “The Contemporary Approach to Jazz Bass,” Jazz & Pop (August 1969), pp. 18-20. Illustrated with photographs of LaFaro, Charlie Haden, Richard Davis, and Ron Carter.
Hunt, David C. “The Musician's Musician: Cases of Seven Underrated Jazzmen,” Jazz and Pop 6 (July 1967), pp. 19, 22-24. LaFaro at pp. 19,22. Includes photograph, p. 22, by Bob Parent.
A discussion of the “rejection of environmental, emotional and financial stability” as prerequisite for artistic creativity by jazz artists, especially the case with, in order: Roy Haynes, Scott LaFaro, George Duvivier, Ed Shaughnessy, Harold Land, Eli `Lucky' Thompson, and Eddie Costa. LaFaro excerpt follows:
“From the outset of his short physical existence, bassist Scott LaFaro's creative vision took him far a field from the usual mainstream of playing experience that is a necessary ingredient in the ascent of a young genius to both popular and critical recognition. His experience prior to joining the Bill Evans Trio consisted of short stints with Chet Baker, Herb Geller, Buddy DeFranco, Sonny Rollins and Thelonious Monk. Few of these associations actually provided records or nationwide exposure. The fact that LaFaro's brand of musical conversationalism contained subtleties unheard of in 1959, and was not of a blues-based walking nature, became the key to his limited audience appeal.” (p. 19)
In discussing the genius of bassist Scott LaFaro, it is difficult to refrain from championing him as the artist most responsible for technical and conceptual advances on string bass in the 1960s. Yet his awe-inspiring dialogues with pianist Bill Evans have drawn little attention, either before or after his death, despite the fact that bassists Richard Davis, Chuck Israels, Gary Peacock, Eddie Gomez, Albert Stinson and Cecil McBee have all matured as a result of his innovations.
Despite one flaw in his overall playing, bassist LaFaro's revolutionizing groundwork was considerable. Critic Harvey Pekar described LaFaro's giant strides in group playing in [his article] `The Development of Modern Bass' (Down Beat, October 11, 1962).
He plays [says Pekar] obbligatos in accompanying Evans as a horn man might play behind a singer . . . He and Evans carried on contrapuntal dialogs (though Evans is clearly the lead voice), and even when accompanying, LaFaro didn't limit himself to one particular pattern: he might play two quarter notes in one bar and superimpose a rhythmic figure containing 16th, dotted eighth, and quarter notes over the beat in the next one . . . He brought off dazzling double-time passages and made forays into the upper register that few bassists would even attempt.
The most important fact about LaFaro's melodic, harmonic and rhythmic inventiveness is that his conception was largely based on modern classical composers. Gunther Schuller pointed out LaFaro's fascination with the bass part of Milhaud's `L'homme et Son Desir,' reflected so brilliantly in `C. & D.' on [the recording] `Ornette' (Atlantic 1378). His dialogues in musical conversation with Evans contain rhythm patterns and a kind of simultaneous vertical-horizontal swing never heard in a small group context before. Innovation of such rare order completely overshadowed what was thought to be his major weakness -- lack of a strong blues feeling.
Those who argue that no such weakness existed point to his playing on `The Arrival of Victor Feldman' (Contemporary 3549) and on `Stan Getz' (Fantasy 3348).
LaFaro expressed his own feelings on rhythm section playing when he stated, “I have trouble getting with people rhythmically and I learned a lot about it from him' (drummer Lawrence Marable).
It is impossible to say just how much this argument may have limited the amount of recognition LaFaro received. There is a certain learned superficiality and lack of rhythmic blending on recordings in which he appears in the more traditional rhythm section concept. The over-busy criticism would also apply with frequency to these same recordings.
In a final plea for putting LaFaro's astounding abilities in their proper perspective, it is necessary to emphasize one thought. Scott LaFaro made the kind of awe-inspiring contribution to creative music that is unique. He should be able to stand on that alone. How many name bass players whose playing is admired rhythmically and technically have made such a contribution to the art form?” (p. 22)
Kopel, Guy. "Scott LaFaro" Les Cahiers du Jazz (1969?), pp. 40-45.
This essay, like that by J.-P. Binchet (see above), covers the entire career of LaFaro, and exhibits critical insight into LaFaro's musical and technical accomplishments. My transcript of the essay follows:
[p 40]
Des disques, une quinzaine, c’est à peu près tout ce qui nous reste de la trop brève existence du contrebassiste Scott LaFaro dans le monde du jazz. Une fois encore, il faut reprocher à la critique internationale de ne pas avoir signalé suffisamment les qualités exceptionnelles d’un musicien. Le conformisme et le manque l’audace feront toujours préférer l’académique au novateur. Il faut regretter que dans le domaine du jazz, où la marche vers des formes nouvelles se fait plus rapidement que dans les autres arts, la plupart de ceux qui font profession de guider le public piétinent dans des sentiers battus. Un des rôles primordiaux de la critique est d’aider les jeunes musiciens à acquérir une audience que ne lui donne pas toujours le fait d’enregistrer des disques ou de se produire en public. Mais les critiques préfèrent sagement attendre 1958, moment où il a crée l’essentiel de son art, pour parler de Thelonious Monk, alors qu’il fallait en parler dix ans auparavant. Comme les militaires sont toujours en retard d’une querre, les critiques le sont toujours d’un movement.
Pourtant, LaFaro aura été le premier contrabassist à donner à son instrument un autre rôle que celui de métronome, rôle d’ailleurs élevé à la perfection par toute une lignée de musiciens, de <Pops> Foster à Paul Chambers en passant par Jimmy Blanton et Oscar Pettiford. Le mérite de LaFaro aura été d’avoir assimilé les apports rythmiques et harmoniques d’un John Coltrane et d’un Ornette Coleman et de les avoir appliqués à la contrebasse. Avec LaFaro, la basse redevient l’égale de la batterie dans la section rythmique,
[p 41] tout en conservant son rôle essentiel d’accompagnateur. Derrière un soliste, LaFaro brise sa ligne rythmique et, par quelques double-temps, excite et stimule l’improvisateur. Parfois il rate une note mais, comme chez d’autres grands (Miles Davis et Monk, par exemple), l’effet obtenu annule l’erreur.
On a pu reprocher à LaFaro ses défauts, mais personne n’a contesté sa vélocité. La plupart des contrebassistes sont limités par leur manque de rapidité sur les cordes et pallient cette insuffisance par des procédés mélodiques, qui constituent souvant l’essentiel de leur solo. LaFaro, lui, pouvait pratiquement exécuter presque tout ce qu’il désirait, et cela sur n’importe quel tempo. Je ne crois pas qu’il existe de version plus rapide de Be-Bop que celle qu’il a enregistrée en janvier 1958 avec le vibraphoniste Victor Feldman pour Contemporary [Records]. Le solo qu’il y prend est rigouruesement construit (c’est d’ailleurs l’un des rares passages de <walking bass> qu’il ait enregistré) malgré la vitesse de l’interpretation.
Ayant appris la contrebasse pratiquement seul, Scott LaFaro, alors qu’il était déjà musicien professionnel depuis trois ans, consacra encore l’année 1957 a l’étude de son instrument. Hôte du saxophoniste Herb Geller et de sa femme, la pianiste Lorraine Geller, qui habitaient Los Angeles, il eût la possibilité d’écouter un grand nombre de disques et d’enrichir ainsi sa culture musicale.
Il avait 21 ans à cette époque et avait déjà joué avec le pianiste Bobby Timmons et le batteur Larry Marable dans la formation de Chet Baker, alors qu’il n’avait que deux années de pratique de la contrabasse.
A la fin de l’année 1957, on le retrouve à Chicago avec la pianiste Pat Moran avec qui, il enregistre son premier disque pour la marque <Audio Fidelity>. Les musiciens commencement s’intéresser à lui et Stan Getz le demande pour un disque <Fantasy> avec le vibraphoniste Cal Tjader. Il y tient un rôle assez effacé et reste constamment en deça de ses possibilités.
Son premier disque important est l’album <The Arrival of Victor Feldman> (Contemporary C-3549) où, avec le batteur Stan Levey, il accompagne le pianiste et vibraphoniste anglais. Toutes les caractéristiques essentielles de son jeu y sont représentées : la sonorité fraiche et puissante, l’attaque virile des cordes, les continuelles inventions rythmiques. Il y a, dans ce disque, entre autres réussites, une adaptation par Feldman d’une valse de Chopin dans laquelle
[p. 42] LaFaro introduit le theme au moyen de quatre mesures d’une exécution impeccable. Il y a également l’étonnant Be-Bop mentionné plus haut et une composition de Feldman Too Blue on il prend un long solo riche en prouessès techniques.
LaFaro a gagné par la suite en subtilité et a su finalement contrôler sa virtuosité, mais jamais les studios d’enregistrement ne purent le saisir en aussi bonne forme, si ce n’est, peut-être, lors de la séance <Gypsy> dirigée par Herb Geller. Celui-ci, pour quelques plages, à Hank Jones. Thad Jones était à la trompette (Atco 33-109).
Cow Song est pris sur tempo moyen ; Scott LaFaro y construit un solo fait de longues phrases sinueuses. Il y a là une telle richesse mélodique que l’improvisation donne l’impression d’être exécutée a la guitare ; LaFaro fait alterner les passages dans le registre grave et les passages dans le registre aigu, apportant ainsi une variété de sons qui rend sa prestation plus vivante.
Dans You’ll Never Get Away From Me, il introduit le thème avec Thad Jones et Herb Geller. Il fournit à ce dernier un soutien très classique, puis, lorsque Thad Jones intervient, il interrompt le tempo, double ses notes avec l’aide d’un Elvin Jones des grands jours. Thad Jones semble un pen désorienté par cette avalanche de ruptures de rythmes et perd, semble-t-il, le fil de ses idées. LaFaro devait reprendre cette formule avec des résultats bien plus convaincants en compagnie de Ornette Coleman et de Bill Evans.
Lorsque Bill Evans quitte Miles Davis pour former son proper trio, au début de l’année 1960, il fait appel à Scott LaFaro et à Paul Motian. Ce dernier, élève de Max Roach, avait déjà tenu la batterie avec Tony Scott notamment lorsque delui-ce employait Evans.
Ces trois musiciens enregistrent alors quatre disques : <Portrait in Jazz> (Riverside 315) ; <Explorations> (Riverside 351) ; <Sunday at the Village vanguard> (Riverside 376) et <Waltz For Debby> (Riverside 388). Témoignage d’une entente parfaite, de dix-huit mois de travail commun, ces albums montrent jusqu’à quel point trois musiciens peuvent se complèter. Les deux derniers disques, enregistrés au Village Vanguard, le 25 juin 1961, dix jours avant la mort de LaFaro, sont incontestablement les meilleurs disques de Evans et de LaFaro. L’entente est totale. Chaque idée de l’un est complétée par l’apport de l’autre.
<Portrait in Jazz> laissait déjà prévoir un changement
[p 43] dans le jeu de LaFaro. L’enthousiasme des premiers disques fait place à une maturité dont il faut voir les premières manifestations lors de la rencontre avec Bill Evans, musicien sérieux et réfléchi, qui n’a jamais fait de concessions et qui, à force de travail, est parvenu à égaler les plus grands pianists de jazz par la fraîcheur de ses idées et une technique sans égale.
LaFaro à, enfin, maîtrisé le volume de sa sonorité ; celle-ci y a, d’ailleurs, gagné en moelleux. Il est moins enclin à faire étalage de dextérité. Par contre, il a progressé sur le plan des idées harmoniques et rythmiques. Ou peut s’en rendre compte lors de son solo dans Someday My Prince Will Come.
Dans une interview accordée à Martin Williams pour le numero d’août 1960 de Jazz Review, il declarait :
< Mes idées sont si différentes de ce qui est généralement accepté actuellement que je me demande parfois si je suis vraiment un musicien de jazz. Bill Evans et moi avions pris l’habitude de nous demander certains soirs si nous étions réellement des musiciens de jazz. J’ai un tel respect pour tant de compositeurs classiques modernes.
< Bill Evans donne à la basse une liberté harmonique de par la manière dont il conçoit ses orchestrations et c’est pratiquement le seul pianiste qui agisse ainsi. Ses études classiques y sont, sans doute, pour beaucoup. De nombreux batteurs ont des connaissances rythmiques trop limitées et certains pianists ont trop peu de connaissances harmoniques. Au sein du trio, nous avions tous notre rôle à jouer et nous improvisions vraiment ensemble, chacun jouant des phrases mélodiques et rythmiques. Quant aux harmonies, elles étaient improvisées ; nous commencions souvent avec quelque chose de thématique et non pas avec une séquence d’accords. >
Il existe, dans le jazz, des instants privilégiés ou des musiciens, s’entendant parfaitement, ont la possibilité de se réunir, et tout ce qu’ils tentent, alors, est réussi. Félicitons-nous donc qu’un tel instant ait été enregistré.
Dans les deux albums faits au < Village Vanguard >, LaFaro n’accompagne par seulement Bill Evans, il collabore à la création d’une œuvre. Il fournit un contrepoint musical qui complète les idées du pianist. Quant à Motian, il est là pour fournir le rhthme que Lafaro suggère. De même, dans les solos de LaFaro, Bill Evans est toujours présent pour jouer la note, placer l’accord désirés, en particulier dans
[p. 44] Gloria’s Step. La sonorité de la contrebasse est devenue très subtile, les cordes sont souvent simplement effleurées.
L’improvisation se déroule sur deux plans ; basse et piano suivent des voies parallèles (ainsi dans Solar). Il n’est plus question ici de métronome, la basse et le piano ne font que suggérer le tempo, tempo assuré uniquement par le batteur. Une note jouée par LaFaro donne naissance, chez Evans, a une idée qui est reprise par LaFaro. Alice in Wonderland, thème assez banal, est, ainsi, sublimé, LaFaro reprend parfois son rôle d’accompagnateur, mais seulement pour jouer, alors, un temps sur trois.
Les solos qu’il prend dans ces disques montrent combien il a réussi à adapter son style au jeu brillant de Bill Evans. Les cordes sont moins percutées qu’au début de sa carrière et les changements de registres y sont moins fréquents. Il fait preuve, toujours, d’une très grande virtuosité, mais donne l’impression de faire moins d’efforts, son jeu gagnant ainsi en naturel ce qu’il a perdu en nervosité.
A la fin de l’année 1960, LaFaro est engagé par Ornette Coleman, en remplacement de Charlie Haden. Deux disques ont marqué cette rencontre : <Free Jazz> (Atlantic 1364) et <Ornette> (Atlantic 1374).
Les conceptions rythmiques de Coleman semblent convenir parfaitement à LaFaro. Chez Ornette Coleman, la section rythmique n’est pas là pour marquer le tempo, mais pour guider le soliste dans ses improvisations. Le bassiste et le batteur doivent deviner les pensées musicales de l’improvisateur et choisir le rythme sur lequel celui-ci pourra le mieux s’exprimer.
<Free Jazz> est sou-titré <Une Improvisation Collective par le Double Quartette d’Ornette Coleman>. Interprété par deux quartettes jouant de concert, l’album est une longne improvisation de plus de 36 minutes. D’un coté, l’on trouve : Freddie Hubbard (trompette), Eric Dolphy (clarinette basse), LaFaro (basse), et Eddie Blackwell (batterie) ; de l’autre : Don Cherry, Ornette Coleman, Charlie Haden et Billy Higgins.
Ce l’œuvre la plus ambitieuse de Coleman, celle où il s’est aventuré le plus loin. Interprété sans limite de temps, sans thème ni accords de base, <Free Jazz> se divise en solos et en passages d’ensemble.
LaFaro prend, dans la seconde partie de l’œuvre, un solo de deux minutes et demi. Débutant par de brèves
[p 45] notes aigues, sa prestation se transforme rapidement en une magnifique illustration de son sens des nuances et des contrastes avant de se terminer par une explosion de notes et de laisser place aux solos de Billy Higgins et Eddie Blackwell.
Le 5 juillet 1961, LaFaro devait trouver la mort dans un accident d’auto, alors qu’il venait de render visite à sa màre à Geneva, près de New York.
Avec lui, la contrebasse venait de romper définitivement avec le passé. Jusqu’à l’arrivée de Jimmy Blanton, son rôle d’avait été que rythmique. Avec Blanton, puis Pettiford, la basse joue de plus un rôle mélodique. LaFaro aura été, cependant, le premier à considére l’instrument comme essentiellement mélodique. Ne serait-ce qu’à ce titre, il mérite d’occuper, une très grande place dans l’histoire du Jazz.
-- Guy Kopel (transcribed by C. Ralston)
Kolstein, Barrie. “The 'LaFaro Prescott' Restoration” Bass World: The Journal of the International Society of Bassists, vol. XIV, no. 3 (Spring 1988), pp. 56-63. Illustrated.
Article discusses the second restoration by the author of Scott LaFaro's instrument damaged in his fatal automobile accident, July 6, 1961. The instrument was made by one Abraham Prescott of Concord NH, around 1801. It was obtained from LaFaro's colleague, bassist Red Mitchell. Another bassist, George Duvivier, introduced LaFaro around 1960 to the author's father, Samuel Kolstein, who did the initial restoration of LaFaro's Prescott bass.
Following the tragic death of LaFaro, Scott's mother, Mrs. Joseph R. LaFaro, offered her son's instrument to the senior Kolstein at a fair price with the hope that once again it would be “resurrected back to life as Scott would have wished it to be.” Disconsolate with the tragic loss of LaFaro, the senior Kolstein kept the instrument in storage until he could bring himself up to the task of restoration. The bass remained in storage for nearly a quarter century following the July 1961 accident. The author decided to complete the restoration so that the bass would be played again in the twenty-fifth year following LaFaro's death, in 1986.
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