There are few things better in life than a good guitar/organ/drums trio. It's as far back to basics as the piano/bass/drums format but, generally speaking, there's less artifice and more groove. Wes Montgomery cut some great sides with Melvin Rhyne and Grant Green made records for Blue Note with 'Baby Face' Willette, 'Big' John Patton and Larry Young without the addition of his customary guest saxophonist. In his liner notes to his At Duc des Lombards live album, Christian Escoudé, the fine French guitarist, talks of 'that special sound that's born when the guitar gets together with the Hammon organ and the drums.' '
However, if there's one thing better in life, it's when two guitarists go at it hammer and plectrum in this format – particularly guitarists of the calibre of Pat Martino and John Scofield. This one's a 14-minute fret-board festival, with the two contemporaries trading scintillating licks and solos in styles that are both contrasting and complementary.
Not knowing my way around the mighty Hammond B3, I'm not really au fait with the bass-pedal business. Suffice to say that Joey DeFrancesco weighs in and adds plenty of heft to the proceedings, in more ways than one. The Philadelphian drummer, Byron Landham – who worked with another notable organist, Shirley Scott, in addition to his role as Joey DeFrancesco's drummer of choice – is near perfect for this type of soul-jazz, keeping it simple and driving the players along without ever drawing unnecessary attention to himself. Swing it, brother, swing!
Since this was recorded at the Umbria Jazz Festival in 2002, both Pat Martino and Joey DeFrancesco have shuffled off to a celestial Smalls Paradise. The organist, who played with Van Morrison and a host of golden others, went way too soon: a heart attack carried him off in 2022 in his early 50s. Well, you know what they say about cholesterol. Pat Martino died a year earlier. George Benson tells a tale of feeling like the new whiz-kid in the big city – until he wanders into Smalls and hears a young Martino. 'If this is a sample of what New York is like, I'm getting out of here!' Pat Martino made it to 77, but had a tough time of it latterly (with a chronic respiratory problem, which stopped him performing). In his middle years, however, he had to re-learn how to play the guitar from scratch after surgery removed part of his brain following a near-fatal cerebral haemorrhage left him with total amnesia. He has talked and written eloquently and fascinatingly about his musical re-education and the challenge of focusing on the present rather than the past. The mind-boggling result of that daunting re-education is here for all to stay.
But enough already about illness, death and other morbid matters. Let's focus on the music, because these 14 minutes fly by in a whirl of sheer joyful excitement. For a start, there's the number they chose: 'Sunny' was written by the country-soul singer-songwriter, Bobby Hebb, who penned the one smash hit for which he will be ever remembered as a kind of cathartic antidote, some have suggested, to the murder of JFK, swiftly followed by that of his brother. Apparently, he took comfort by immersing himself in one of my favourite big band jazz albums, Gerald Wilson's You Better Believe It! It's an upbeat, up-tempo record, but it's hard to see the link with the unapologetic pop of 'Sunny'. The song has subsequently served jazz artists like Billy Taylor, in addition to the ever-wonderful Georgie Fame and, mirabile dictu, the never-wonderful Boney M.! When it came out in 1966, 'Sunny' created sufficient furore in the UK and US charts to earn Hebb a slot touring with The Beatles that year.
The dapper Martino kicks things off by stating the theme in a scratchy, funky style before taking the first solo. It's swift, agile and as clean as his jacket. 'Great tone, great articulation,' as George Benson suggests. He gets a wry smile of admiration from Scofield when a lightning-tempo vamp makes you wonder whether the needle's stuck. 'Sco' then takes the baton, and his trademark slightly 'bent' electric sound draws a reciprocal glance of admiration from Martino. Good as the two solos are, things really start to smoke when DeFrancesco lets rips on the Hammond. Spurred on by Landham's relentless on-the-money drumming, Pat Martino then takes over again, playing a stylistic combination of Wes Montgomery's block chords and Grant Green's single-note picking. From the ten-minute mark, the two guitarists trade licks in the way that used to thrill me as a youth, listening and playing along on lead tennis racquet to John Cipollina and Gary Duncan of Quicksilver Messenger Service live at the Fillmore. Like a pair of gun slingers, the two jazz guitarists shoot it out on stage until the big climactic wind-down. Where did those 14 minutes just go?
Having graduated summa cum laude from the Miles Davis School of tough electric jazz in the first half of the '80s, John Scofield is thankfully still with us. Looking rather more grizzled these days, he tours half the year as a self-proclaimed 'road dog' and sits in with a bewildering range of musicians (often anchored by the brilliant drummer, Bill Stewart). He has made a ridiculous number of albums, both in his own name and those of significant others, including my personal favourite, That's What I Say, his tribute to Ray Charles – which is indicative of his musical breadth. Inside Scofield, a film narrated by the master guitarist himself came out at the back end of 2022. It's on my wish-list, along with what promises to be a fascinating 'brain mystery', Martino Unstrung.
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