- Casa Forte (Edu Lobo)
- a. Bach Chorale #237 (J. S. Bach)
b. Betwixt & Between (Anthony Dorsey) - a. Plus Nine (Kai Winding)
b. Little Drummer Boy (Katherine Davis/Henry Onorati/Harry Simone) - a. Troika (J. S. Bach)
b. Don’t Go Love, Don’t Go (James Lacey/J.A. Ryan) - a. Bach Chorale #241 (J. S. Bach)
b. Mojave (Antonio Carlos Jobim)
c. Bach Chorale #134 (J. S. Bach) - Stormy (Buddy Buie/J. R. Cobb)
- Smoky (J. J. Johnson)
- a. Onion Rings Rondo (Kai Winding)
b. Wichita Lineman (Jimmy Webb) - a. Bach Invention #4 (J. S. Bach)
b. Just A Funky Old Vegetable Bin (Roger Kellaway) - a. Bach Invention #1 (J. S. Bach)
b. Willie, Come Home (J. Miller-R. George)
Tracks 01, 02b-05b, 06, 07, 08b-10b:
J.J. Johnson, Kai Winding – trombone, Varitone trombone (07)
Herbie Hancock – piano (01)
Roger Kellaway – clavinet (02, 04-06, 09, 10)
Charles Covington – organ (07)
Joe Beck (01, 02, 04-06, 08-10), Eric Gale (07) – guitar
Ron Carter – bass (01, 03)
Chuck Domanico (02, 04-06, 09, 10), Russell George (07), Chuck Rainey (08) – Fender bass
Airto Moreira – drums (01), finger cymbals (03)
Denny Seiwell (02, 04-06, 09, 10), Leo Morris [Idris Muhammad] (07, 08) – drums
Warren Smith – tambourine (07)
All tracks above except 09b, add:
Fred Buldrini, Lewis Eley, Harry Glickman, Emanuel Green, George Ockner, Raoul Poliakin, Max Pollikoff, Joyce Robbins, Aaron Rosand, Tosha Samaroff, Julius Schacter, Jack Zayde – violin
Tracks 02a-05a, 05c, 08a-10a (transitional music):
J.J. Johnson, Kai Winding – trombone
Tony Studd – bass trombone
Marvin Stamm – flugelhorn
Paul Ingraham – French horn
Stuart Scharf – guitar
Produced by Creed Taylor
Arranged by J. J. Johnson (01, 04, 07), Kai Winding (02, 03, 05, 06, 08, 10) and Roger Kellaway (09)
Transitional music arranged by J. J. Johnson (02, 05, 09, 10) and Kai Winding (03, 04, 08)
Originally issued as A&M SP 3016
also issued as A MEDIAS (A&M HDAS 371-30 [Spain])
Recorded on October 22 (07) and 29 (08), November 15 (01, 03) and 26 (09, 10), December 5 (02, 04, 05, 06), 1968, at Van Gelder Studio, Englewood Cliffs, New Jersey. All transitional music recorded January 9, 1969.
01 published by Warner-Tamerlane Publishing Group (BMI)
02 published by Sony/ATV Tree Publishing (BMI)
03 published by EMI Mills Music, Inc./International Korwin Corp. (ASCAP)
04 published by Regent Music Corp. (BMI)
05 published by Corcovado Music Corp. (BMI)
06 published by Bike Music (BMI)
07 published by Two Jays Publishing Co. (BMI)
08 published by Universal Polygram International Publishing, Inc. (ASCAP)
09 published by Eternity Music Co. (ASCAP)
10 published by Generation Gap Publishing (ASCAP)
(P) 1969
“[A] brilliant array of arrangements,” proclaimed Billboard of Betwixt & Between, “by the trombone giants” Kai Winding and J.J. Johnson.1 Even though the magazine predicted a chart-topping success for the album, it wasn’t meant to be. Perhaps its failure was due to the magazine’s apt assertion that it was a “program aimed at all disc buyers”: J & K – as they’re billed here – were caught yet again betwixt pleasing everyone and between satisfying no one. The album’s archaic title is meant to convey the album’s curious dichotomy of perky pop instrumentals and brief baroque interludes. It’s a clever concept, handsomely delivered by the trombone leads, but the title’s suggestion that it’s neither one thing nor the other was unlikely to attract much positive attention. The shame of it is that Betwixt & Between is a really wonderful listening pleasure, showcasing the leaders in a much more favorable mix than its predecessor.
For a Creed Taylor project, Betwixt & Between offers some notable twists. First and foremost, Don Sebesky’s absence frees the album from the constraints that weighed down Israel. When you have two leaders such as J.J. Johnson and Kai Winding – both skilled arrangers themselves – it’s foolish to retrofit them into someone else’s conception. Secondly, the contemporary songs have an appropriately more contemporary feel. This is likely due to the new hands on deck (on most tracks): pianist Roger Kellaway, here playing the clavinet (an electrically amplified clavichord), guitarist Joe Beck (in Hendrix mode), Fender bassist Chuck Domanico and drummer Denny Seiwell, later a founding member of Paul McCartney’s Wings. The result is a sort of funk rock that the leaders feel is well worth exploring. Finally, the classical interjections seem inspired, displaying how effectively two trombones can balance the old with the new. As “transitional music,” it complements the pop pieces surprisingly well, yet they beg for more of the extended Bach-to-Jazz explorations Jacques Loussier and John Lewis were known for elsewhere.
The contemporary fare is a well-chosen lot of radio hits and surprising choices. The Kellaway group helps the trombone duologue on the Joe Tex Band’s “Betwixt & Between,” Cleo Laine’s “Don’t Go Love, Don’t Go,” the Classic IV’s pop standard, “Stormy” (which here suggests the sound of early Chicago), the all-too brief “Mojave” (originally featured on Antonio Carlos Jobim’s Wave), Glen Campbell’s “Wichita Lineman,” the funky “Willie, Come Home” (a demo song that never had a proper release elsewhere) and Roger Kellaway’s terrific “Just A Funky Old Vegetable Bin.” Even the ballads get a jolt in the telling here.
The album is at its best, though, in its three uncharacteristic numbers, each of which could have been extended into a superior album all its own. Edu Lobo’s mighty “Casa Forte,” which opens the album, gets a superb performance by both trombones and guest soloists Herbie Hancock, who had the finest moment on the group’s previous Israel, and Joe Beck. “Little Drummer Boy” pares J & K down to Ron Carter on bass and Airto Moriera on finger cymbals to beautiful effect (and another nod to fellow Birth of the Cool musician, the Modern Jazz Quartet’s John Lewis). Finally, J.J. Johnson’s earthy groover “Smoky” – featuring organist Charles Covington, guitarist Eric Gale, bassist Russell George (a ringer here for Chuck Rainey) and drummer Leo Morris (Idris Muhammad) – offers a preview of the funky work Johnson would later provide to such seminal Blaxploitation films as Across 110th Street (1971), Cleopatra Jones (1973) and Willie Dynamite (1974).
In his three-and-a-half star DownBeat review, writer Don Nelsen faintly praises the album’s “delightful miscellany” and “fetching music” while reproaching the result as “a dud” that “deserves to be listened to more than once or twice – if only as a corrective.” Nelsen reasonably considers the problem in terms of the album’s title, clashing betwixt the hip East Coast contemporary of the rhythm section and between the old-school West Coast cool of the leaders. “In many ways,” writes Nelsen, “it is very mechanical. But within this precision there is much warmth, freedom and lilt. [Joe] Beck and [Roger] Kellaway provide much of this. Their playing reflects more cognizance of the ‘60s than does that of the leaders.”2 This inapt, yet not altogether unfair verdict requires somewhat more of a nuanced consideration: The leaders have absolutely no problem keeping pace with their younger charges. But the always beautiful sound that Johnson and Winding generate seemingly recalls a distant time in jazz, at odds with what is going on behind them. The overall impression is, perhaps, more anodyne than anachronistic, but it certainly merits more than one or two listens and little need for correction.
About the cover: “Taxi Windshield” (1968 – New York City). There are several twists to this album’s cover, suggesting the album’s title is as much a (two-tiered) musical statement as, perhaps, a packaging conundrum: Breaking the mold? Varying the visual? Expanding the brand? Changing it? It’s anyone’s guess. While the record maintains the series’ gatefold sleeve, the image is reduced to single-sleeve size, reducing it considerably. (To be fair, the image is more vertical than horizontal. Perhaps, then, it’s just a matter of form following function.) The frame is no longer white, either; it is grey on the front and, oddly, indigo on the back. The catalog number doesn’t appear on the cover this time and the top-billed A&M logo here sits, curiously, to the right of the usually second-billed CTI logo, suggesting “CTI/A&M” for the very first time. Even Creed Taylor’s typical nomenclature streamlining forces Johnson to lose an initial and Winding to lose two-thirds of his first name. Pete Turner’s cover image is one of his many self-proclaimed “right place at the right time” photo ops, captured while the ever-ready photographer was in the back of a cab on his way to his Carnegie Hall studio. “It was a very moody, dark day,” he said, “and nice to see a touch of color.”3 That color could easily be the particular verve this album generates during one of jazz’s more gloomy times. Here, the two leaders are pictured on the back cover (obviously by manipulating the image) looking more toward each other, in contrast to the strikingly opposing postures presented on the back cover of Israel.
Endnotes: