Blue Note – the story of the best-loved record label in jazz

Brian Priestley traces the history of the best-loved record label in jazz

It seems almost bland to say that the Blue Note story is unique. But, in the history of recorded jazz, it certainly is and indeed, in the history of any kind of recording, it’s only challenged by a few of the early giants such as Victor and Columbia or Decca, an imprint recently revived by its inheritors at Universal.

Like most specialist jazz labels, Blue Note was originally a one-man venture and, in the person of co-founder Alfred Lion, it had both its impetus and its sustaining energy. Though the successful company was sold in the mid-1960s, the name has been kept in the public eye almost continuously till the present day. By contrast, a company set up around the same time, Commodore Records, ceased new recording in the mid-1950s, and its classic material has been leased to several reissuers in turn. Similarly, a slightly later contemporary, the enterprising jazz-blues-gospel label Savoy has seen a series of reissue programmes and even sporadic bouts of new recordings under successive owners, yet it’s basically dormant now.

Blue Note, on the other hand, not only has a seven-decade back catalogue that continues to sell. It also puts out a number of new albums every year, and among each batch there is usually something that helps to crystallise what’s happening at the time. Undoubtedly a unique brand, then, but whether the legendary “Blue Note style” is also unique is a matter for discussion. For a start, there are different Blue Note “styles”, each with their own fans and, though these help us in retrospect to define how the jazz scene was at various times, they also reflected the company’s awareness of and sensitivity to what was at the cutting edge of live music.

This is brought home in no uncertain terms, if we take a quick cross-section of the last year of each of the decades. When the label held its first session in 1939, the only artists involved were pianists Meade Lux Lewis and Albert Ammons, specialists who focused the growing interest in boogie-woogie. But, because of the simultaneously growing interest in small-group swing with horns, the two follow-up sessions later that year were by groups built around Ammons and Lewis respectively. When Lion’s fellow émigré Francis Wolff came on board, they knew the big white bands of the day were approaching a tipping point that favoured clichés and corny vocals whereas, for the handful of dedicated jazz fans then, boogie and small groups were where it was at.

By 1949, while continuing the previous policy and adding more trad-jazz, a reappraisal had brought some of the beboppers to Blue Note. A more sparse schedule than some previous years saw a total of two sessions fronted by Sidney Bechet, plus one R&B-leaning date and one classic bebop quintet marking the Blue Note debut of Bud Powell. A decade further on, thanks to the industry-wide LP boom, the company was doing over 30 sessions a year, resulting in two dozen albums and, not insignificantly, an equivalent number of jukebox singles. These included the Blue Note debuts (under their own name, anyway) of Jackie McLean and Duke Pearson, and strong entries by such stalwarts as Art Blakey (Jazz Corner Of The World) and Horace Silver (Blowin’ The Blues Away).

The hard bop feel of the latter virtually defines what some people call “the Blue Note sound”, but 10 years later its popularity had waned. On the back of a couple of huge “soul-jazz” hits by Silver and Lee Morgan, the label was bought out by Liberty whereupon Lion and Wolff, their services initially retained, cannily used their new finance to record figures such as Ornette Coleman, Don Cherry and Cecil Taylor, until economics pointed more in the crossover direction. Recording activity continued at a considerable pace, but 1969’s output is characterised by the last Blue Note releases by Herbie Hancock and Wayne Shorter, and various attempts by such as Andrew Hill and Bobby Hutcherson to create music relevant to the anti-Vietnam war, pro-civil rights era.

Retirement for Lion, and death in the case of Wolff, virtually ended this gradual evolution of the original Blue Note approach, and eventually George Butler (later of Marsalis fame) became executive producer. Despite the sales success of some pre-disco efforts during the 1970s, the then owners wound down the operation so that 1979 saw the completion of a single album, Horace Silver’s last for the label. This was the year that Liberty fell into the hands of EMI but, while reissues in both the US and Japan kept the name alive, Blue Note only resumed new recording in 1984 after the recruitment of Bruce Lundvall. As well as the return of a few old faces, 1989 found people such as Stanley Jordan and Dianne Reeves on the roster, plus the first Blue Note work of John Scofield and, initially as his sideman, Joe Lovano.

When it comes to 1999, new projects were much more decentralised, with such as Erik Truffaz (contracted via EMI France), Caecilie Norby (EMI Denmark) and Chucho Valdés (EMI Canada), as well as American-based players such as Don Byron and Medeski, Martin and Wood. But also, in the previous 10 years, it became accepted that Blue Note’s depth of catalogue was in many ways the backbone of the business. Not only classic albums were reissued as such but also themed compilations of both classic and “rare-groove” material, much of the latter drawn from the initially frowned-upon soul-jazz repertoire and commissioned at EMI UK, as was the US3 remix hit ‘Cantaloop’. But, if there was any suggestion that the label was becoming fixated on the past, the 2000s entered yet another phase where the phenomenal sales of Norah Jones helped to finance the dreams of both freelance and staff producers.

Given the commercial success and the iconic status, it’s hard to appreciate just what a shoestring enterprise Blue Note was in the beginning. Lion and Wolff – both of them exiles from Nazi Germany – held down day jobs in the early days, and some of the initial money for the venture was provided by left wing activist-journalist Max Margulis. Along with everyone else interested in the music then, jazz was their hobby. The urge to document the boogie pianists arose from personal enthusiasm for the music, recently exposed to a wider public at John Hammond’s first Spirituals To Swing concert just a couple of weeks earlier, and was probably uninformed by any awareness that Hammond had also conducted his own studio session for Columbia. But there was also an urge to gain respect for this underdog art-form, which led to issuing the first few tracks on the 12-inch 78s associated with “classical music” rather than the “pop” 10-inch format.

Sound quality was a priority from the start – so that, for instance, duet tracks of Ammons and Lewis at two pianos make their roles more audible than when Ammons and Pete Johnson were later recorded together for Victor. In a sign of things to come, Lion and Margulis created descriptive notes, full of serious discussion of the music. To get the word around, they also printed what would now be called a mission statement, claiming their intention was “simply to serve the uncompromising expression of hot jazz and swing, in general… Blue Note Records are concerned with identifying its impulse, not its sensational and commercial adornments.”

When the label’s third session gained some airplay for the Sidney Bechet feature on ‘Summertime’, proper distribution became necessary and was arranged via the famous Commodore Music Shop, where Frank Wolff actually worked behind the counter when Lion was called up after the USA’s entry into World War II in 1941. The next small step forward came when, despite the opposition of the major labels Victor and Columbia to the musicians’ union strike of 1942-43, smaller companies such as Decca and Capitol agreed terms with the union after a year and recorded new material again. This opened the way for tiny operations such as Blue Note and Savoy to restart recording too, tapping into the fairly brief wartime popularity of small-group swing, trad jazz and proto-R&B. Blue Note even scored another jukebox hit in tenor saxophonist Ike Quebec’s classic after-hours anthem ‘Blue Harlem’.

A key factor in the whole of the next 20 years was Lion and Wolff’s ability to keep up with subtle shifts in musical trends, while always gravitating towards their key representatives. Not exactly rushing into bebop, they waited to be convinced of its validity and then, two years after Gillespie’s and Parker’s first sessions as leaders, they consulted with insiders such as Quebec on who to record. By the end of 1947, they had cut sessions by vocalist Babs Gonzales, Art Blakey and, best of all, Thelonious Monk, who recorded 16 tracks in five weeks, some of them not issued for years, due to lack of interest. But the major factor was Lion’s attraction to the music, while his then wife Lorraine – later to become Lorraine Gordon of Village Vanguard fame – showed her enthusiasm for trying to publicise Monk.

Even though the renewed popularity of jazz in the 1950s tended to favour West Coast-based musicians at first, Blue Note paid almost no attention to them. There was, however, competition from West Coast labels such as Pacific Jazz and Fantasy, while in the mid-50s the new Riverside company and a resurgent Savoy started to surf the boom in sales caused by the introduction of LPs. Again, Lion and Wolff didn’t exactly rush in but, when they moved to the 12-inch format, they not only hit their stride with new recordings but began their first reissue series – just in time for the belated interest in people such as Miles and Monk, whom they had continued to record in the early-50s.

The earliest and strongest competition in this period, though, was from Prestige and its founder, former record shop owner Bob Weinstock, who began recording the new jazz in 1949. He became adept at signing musicians who had their first break on Blue Note, such as Monk or Sonny Rollins (a sideman on Bud Powell’s quintet date), and both labels recorded Miles until Weinstock put him under exclusive contract from 1954-56. Giving an added edge to the rivalry was the fact that, from 1953 (in Blue Note’s case) and 1954 (Prestige), both companies used the facilities of part-time engineer Rudy Van Gelder – who only gave up his own day job as an optician in 1959. His detailed and uncluttered sound registration was what drew these labels and eventually others to Van Gelder, but he himself was quite clear that, thanks to Lion’s demands and encouragement “the Rudy Van Gelder sound is really the Alfred Lion sound.”

In retrospect, there are clear stylistic differences between Prestige and Blue Note, but the difference most often cited is that the performances are invariably tighter on Blue Note. The comparison between Miles’ sessions for Weinstock and Lion makes the point quite convincingly, and the reason usually given is that Lion insisted on paid rehearsals. Producer Michael Cuscuna, who interviewed Lion extensively shortly before his death in 1987, believes the policy was certainly in place by 1953 but may have been instituted in 1947 with the move to bebop. This not only required more precision in ensembles than the kind of jazz Blue Note had previously recorded, but it was a style Lion was at first less familiar with. He also saw that it relied heavily for its effect on original material, rather than spontaneous versions of standards, and wanted the material presented to best effect.

‘In establishing and maintaining the standards of Blue Note for so long, the Lion and the Wolff set an example for all subsequent specialist labels’

Another result of this quality control was the existence, from the late-1950s until the end of the 60s, of numerous unreleased sessions. We’ve heard the same thing over the years about ECM Records, which of course is the nearest thing to a Blue Note successor in terms of having an immediately identifiable house style. The difference with Blue Note is that many of these sessions did surface later, often initially in Japan, on various reissue series that started in the mid-70s. Examples are Hank Mobley’s Curtain Call, the Jimmy Smith Trio + Lou Donaldson, and a raft of things from around the time of the Liberty buyout. Some unissued sessions were rapidly redone on another day, some were slated for release but somehow fell off the schedule (the legendary Tina Brooks’ Back To The Tracks, for instance) but there are a few sessions that still remain unheard today, even by such big names as Smith and Blakey.

Very likely the reason that those remained in the vaults was the discrepancy between what Lion was expecting and what happened on the day. As Van Gelder said, “Alfred Lion did his homework better than anyone. He’d come to a date with the musicians rehearsed and he’d know the precise routine for everything. Bob [Weinstock] was a lot looser.” Even Blue Note dates that sound like mere “blowing sessions” usually turn to be carefully structured, and to feature a selection of musicians already associated with the label. Clearly the influence of the returning Ike Quebec, and others close to the “family” like Blakey, was responsible for bringing many key musicians to Blue Note’s door. It’s notable how many who went on to do their own successful albums first recorded for the label as sidemen, whether it’s Duke Pearson (who later filled a Quebec-type role and even produced sessions in the early-70s) or Stanley Turrentine.

Another arena of competition was in the domain of presentation, both verbal and visual. When they got into 12-inch LPs, Blue Note had extensive essays by such writers as Leonard Feather, while Prestige usually had briefer notes, often by Ira Gitler (a Prestige employee at the time). But it’s the cover photography of Frank Wolff and the calligraphy that still stand out as the most innovative, mostly designed by Reid Miles during the classic era and capable of making an impact in even non-jazz-specific compilations of artwork.

That was one aspect that changed almost immediately on acquisition by Liberty, which of course had its own ideas about artwork, and albums by Lou Donaldson (for instance) show the effects of before and after, the “after” being still striking but not really Blue Note.

The reason for the bail out was, pure and simple, the problem of distribution posed by an excess of success. Within a year Blue Note had released the albums – and, of course, the chart singles – of ‘The Sidewinder’ and ‘Song For My Father’, creating rapid pressure from distributors to come up with further print-runs and more product just like that. This not only led to several years of LPs that led off with a track heavily dependent on a Latin-funk beat, it required an almost immediate injection of extra capital.

Liberty had previously bought Aladdin, Imperial and Pacific Jazz which explains why reissues from these sources have more recently appeared under the Blue Note imprint. Initially, they let Blue Note do its thing, but subject to control by the accountants and senior management – a new experience for Alfred Lion, who left after 12 months. After another year, Liberty itself was taken over by Transamerica which combined it with the United Artists label it already owned, suddenly propelling UA contract artists such as Jimmy McGriff, Chick Corea, Jeremy Steig and Thad Jones-Mel Lewis on to Blue Note.

So, what of the seemingly amorphous 1970s output under Dr George Butler? Even though Lion was out of the picture, there was still some evolution on the part of 60s signings who stayed with the label, such as Elvin Jones and Bobby Hutcherson.

But what stays in the mind, or sticks in the craw, is the work of the likes of Donald Byrd, who went hook, line and sinker for a watered-down version of 60s soul, complete with lumpy rhythms, naff string-sections and unfunky vocals.

The production team of Larry and Fonce Mizell also begat acts such as flautist Bobbi Humphrey, saxist Ronnie Laws and guitarist Earl Klugh, all of whom sold lots of records and are now largely forgotten, except by fans who are into that style. But we shouldn’t forget that there is always a need to have some funky jazz and it turned on listeners such as Gilles Peterson and Jez Nelson, who then became influential in more jazz-related ways.

The hiring by EMI of Bruce Lundvall, formerly with Columbia and Elektra, was obviously a stroke of genius, in terms of restoring Blue Note’s credibility as well as its catalogue.

As far back as 1985, Michael Cuscuna explained to me that “Bruce Lundvall is one of the only people to reach the top echelons of the music business and remain both interested in music and honest” – the fact that they still work together suggests that Cuscuna’s opinion hasn’t changed. Of course, you might argue that some newer material is further removed from the label’s roots than anything in the 1970s (Norah? Willie Nelson?) but that’s only the revenue earning tip of what’s still a very large iceberg.

The list of artists recently on Blue Note who are maintaining and developing the tradition of the label is long and impressive. If the business methods are unrecognisable from those days – for instance, the profit-sharing deal that landed a contract with the now departed Wynton Marsalis – the music is still pushing the boundaries, rather than running away from them.

It all requires the ancient art of keeping one’s ear to the ground, which is what Lion and his partner Wolff excelled at. Their business instincts enabled them to capture one-off classics with artists who were between contracts (such as Cannonball Adderley’s Somethin’ Else) and at least one who had promised them an album before signing with Prestige, namely Coltrane, whose Blue Train again underlines the superiority of Blue Note’s methods. In the 1950s, they were even open to the idea of jazz from Europe, leasing two albums’ worth of Cool Britons and one of Swingin’ Swedes, plus European recordings of German pianist Jutta Hipp and the then UK-based Dizzy Reece before they each relocated to New York.

Indeed, in establishing and maintaining the standards of Blue Note for so long, the Lion and the Wolff set an example for all subsequent specialist labels. Perhaps more importantly, in the process they left us with some wonderful music.

This article originally appeared in the August 09 issue of Jazzwise. Subscribe to Jazzwise

Photos: 1) Horace Silver (top left) and clockwise, John Coltrane (with Thelonious Monk at the piano), Hank Mobley, Bud Powell, Francis Wolff and Alfred Lion, Art Blakey and Thelonious Monk; 2) Lee Morgan and Wayne Shorter 3) Freddie Hubbard and Stanley Turrentine

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