Appreciating Mingus, then and now

The Mingus Big Band embraces the legacy of the great bass player and composer by playing his work with fully realized orchestration.

It's one of a very few instances where I enjoy the updated work as much as the original material. While Mingus worked with small and mid-sized groups and often facing various distractions, the Mingus Big Band projects a giant sound — suitable to convey the man's enormous appetites and vision — within the nurturing confines of an association dedicated to his work.

Mingus's wife, Sue Mingus, has dedicated her life to preserving and furthering his music. Her memoir, Tonight at Noon, portrays the stormy, loving marriage of two conflicting personalities.

I don't mean to minimize Mingus's original work. I heard the 1970s quintet with Danny Richmond, Don Pullen, Jack Walrath and George Adams. I also have heard the big band, which has been performing weekly in New York for two decades. For Jazz Appreciation Month, I want to express my appreciation for all things Mingus.

If I had an opportunity to have brain surgery, and the surgeon offered to poke my brain in one spot that would enable me to relive one of these performances, I would choose Mingus himself without hesitation. It would be worthwhile just to witness once again George Adams' eyeballs disappear into the recesses of his head during his saxophone frenzies (0:25 in the video below).

Appreciating "Let My Children Hear Music"

Is this the best album by Charles Mingus?

Can’t say. But it is a great achievement demonstrating his episodic approach to composition. The listener really gets slapped around through all the starts and stops of "The Shoes of the Fisherman’s Wife Are Some Jive Ass Slippers," "Don’t Be Afraid, the Clown’s Afraid Too," and "The I of Hurricane Sue."

The album has some great solos from James Moody and Charles McPherson, but Mingus the composer is the main event here. His ambition and passion are present at every turn.

Mingus’s explanation for his curious song titles was deceptively simple: They’re just something to think about while you’re listening to the music. The titles referenced above create a spectrum of thought possibilities: 

• "Shoes" — Inscrutable to me. No amount of thinking is likely to reveal the title’s connection to the music.
• "Clown" — Straightforward programatic title that reflects the music. 
• "Sue" — Presumably a musical essay about his tumultuous yet loving marriage.

My favorite thought-provoking title is "Remember Rockefeller at Attica," which I know from his 70s album, "Changes One." The title forces the listener, at least for a moment, to confront a political question. No matter where you stand on the issue, the title evokes images that completely ruin the experience of listening to this breezy tune — a mind game that Mingus probably enjoyed whenever he thought about it.

The music of Charles Mingus lives on through the industrious and creative work of his wife, Sue, and the multitude of bands she commissions through her organization, Jazz Workshop, Inc.