Love for Sale

The MacGuffin, Vol. 4, No. 3, Fall 1987

By Ed Peaco

Pete Schere thought he was the best tenor saxophonist between Chicago and San Francisco. It wasn’t just brag; he had heard players from big cities, but he never heard anyone who could touch him.  Then somebody named Barry Levitt,  who played at a resort on the Lake of the Ozarks, but who was originally from Connecticut, came to Springfield, Missouri, and blew Schere away.

Schere had been playing around his hometown of Springfield for five years, since he quit college. He thought of himself as the derelict of everything in 1983 and didn’t care, except for jazz. He played often at each of three bars that offered jazz occasionally, and he had played at a series of jazz clubs that went out of business almost as soon as they opened. He had tried to find jobs through friends in Kansas City and Chicago, but usually partied too much during visits. Those jobs he got quickly fizzled.

He had been the best in school. Woody Herman did a clinic once in Springfield and said he had never heard so much maturity in anyone as young as Schere. Herman offered him a chair in his saxophone section, but Schere turned him down. Schere told this story whenever he felt his integrity or ability challenged. 

“You should have gone for it man,” Barry Levitt said when he heard the story.

“And play ‘Woodchopper’s Ball’ every night?” Schere said. “I don’t play that shit.”

“It would have been your ticket out of Springfield, though,” Levitt said.

Levitt had hooked up with Schere’s group through Hegpeth, the drummer, who knew a guy in the house band at Osage Lodge, where Levitt played. Levitt was looking for a way to stretch out on nights when he didn’t have to play at his regular job. He seemed cool enough, but Schere was expecting some country musician who wanted to play jazz.  It turned out that Levitt had come to Missouri because he couldn’t find work in New York. He had called a college friend who now was a high school music teacher in Camdenton and worked in the band at Osage Lodge. Levitt learned the resort needed a saxophone.

“Crazy, the way the biggest zero from school becomes my best contact,” Levitt said when he met Schere and his group.  “It’s been hard to adjust to hillbillies. They think Willie Nelson wrote ‘Stardust.’ Do you still call them hillbillies?”

None of the musicians seemed to know. “Goddamn hillbillies,” one of them finally said. They all laughed.

“Nobody says that,” Schere said.

The first set Levitt played with the group was a real shocker for Schere. He chose the tunes, all standards, and Levitt kept up all the way. Levitt had a smooth tone that betrayed no effort or strain. He rounded off his phrases smartly and heightened his solos with controlled shrieks and growls. Levitt knocked out everybody, even the crowd.

To calm himself between sets, Schere tried to remember the licks he was playing a few nights earlier, licks Hegpeth said he had never heard Schere play before. But they wouldn’t come. He fingered his saxophone idly as he sat at the bar waiting for the second set, and his fingers kept slipping into those familiar patterns he played night after night, patterns which always made him sound the same to himself, but which impressed his small following. He knew those patterns never would impress Barry Levitt. Distracted, he ordered another beer. There was no use playing any more that night. If only he had some excuse to get away — but that only would make him look worse. 

Levitt approached Schere and made room for himself between bar stools. Levitt had short hair that defined the contours of his head. In Springfield, only a few rock musicians wore their hair that short, Schere thought.

“Hey, Pete baby, you’re really sounding good up there,” Levitt said.

“You think so?” Schere asked.

“Yeah, you got that double time under control.”

“Shit. The only thing I got under control is my liquor.”

“Hey — modest, modest!”

“No really,” Schere said. “I had some things I was working on, and now I lost them. I can’t figure out what I was doing.”

“No problem man, it’ll come back,” Levitt said. “The music is there, whether you play it or not. You have to immerse yourself in it, and you’ll find what you’re looking for.”

Schere considered how long it had been since he had talked about music in that manner, and said nothing.

“You know ‘Love for Sale’?” Levitt said.

“Yeah.”

“Let’s do that. We do that in our revue at Osage Lodge. It’s as hip as we get. Can you believe it?”

Schere thought about “Love for Sale.” He hummed part of the melody, then his mind seemed to go blank. 

“I used to play that, but I forgot what key it’s in,” Schere said.

“You gotta be kidding.” Levitt gave him a funny look, squinting and showing his upper row of teeth. “You can play it in any key,” he said.

Schere stared at the condensation rings his beer mug had left in front of him. He hoped the tune would come to him before the next set began. He hoped he wouldn’t have to ask Levitt about it again.

Pat Metheny’s Dream Box

Pat Metheny brought his Dream Box Tour to the Gillioz on March 12 with numerous guitars, some surprises and himself. 

In the beginning of the concert, he chatted about his youth in Lee’s Summit, his attachment to Missouri, working with his friend Charlie Haden who lived in Forsyth, and performing with other Kansas City musicians. Then he picked up a guitar and made some soothing, slow music that set a meditative mood. 

Next were several strummed pieces, followed by a harsh piece with garage-band-like scraunchy noise. Numerous guitars were employed throughout the show, including a baritone guitar.

Halfway through the performance, Pat escorted his unique 42-string Pikasso guitar to the stage. The instrument may sound like chimes, a harp, a synthesizer, or a guitar. It was amazing.

Later, he walked to the back of the stage where a huge contraption was uncovered to reveal two shelves of cymbals, drums, shakers and many strikers, which made music without Metheny’s help. Further along, he played several guitars, each on a stand, and made an ensemble. It felt like a Rube Goldberg machine. Lots of fun!

At the end, he played “Wichita Lineman” in a delicate way as an encore.

Scotty Barnhart is director of the band. Player & writer, Billy Chiles

In the jazz realm, there were two important Grammys last month.

"Basie Swings The Blues" won Best Large Jazz Ensemble album. This triumph is more than a Grammy, it's a way to keep swinging and big-banding. Scotty Barnhart, the director, has noted that the band is blues-based, with many friends like Buddy Guy, Keb' Mo' and Ledisi. 

Billy Chiles won Best Jazz Instrumental Album. His writing and playing creates powerful and luxurious songs. Ambrose Akinmusire is a flexible trumpeter. I found the album in the June 2023 DownBeat and bought it immediately. 

When I chat with jazz friends, occasionally I mention the magazine, DownBeat. And they say, "What's DownBeat?" or "Isn't that dead, year's ago?" 

For me, DownBeat is how I find out what's happening in the world of jazz, and who's making new music that I might like. 

Charles McPherson Quintet comes to Joplin

Charles McPherson

The Charles McPherson Quintet will perform in Joplin at the Cornell Complex, on Feb. 10, 7pm. Doors open at 6:30pm.

Charles McPherson (alto sax) was born in Joplin, raised in Detroit, Michigan. His quintet is packed with great players. His first album was in 1965, “Bebop Revisited.” His latest is “Jazz Dance Suites.” He had a long stretch with Charles Mingus in the ’60s and the ’70s.

Terell Stafford (trumpet/flugelhorn) is Director of Jazz Studies at the Boyer College of Music and Dance at Temple University. One of his albums is “BrotherLee Love," with eight Lee Morgan tunes. 

Jeb Patton (piano) had an album released last year, “Preludes.” Each tune has a name — Prelude In A Minor, B Minor, etc. The naming of the tunes seems symphonic, but many of the tunes are jazz. 

David Wong (bass) is also currently a member of the Roy Haynes and The Fountain of Youth Band.

Chuck McPherson (drums) is the son of Charles McPherson. In the ’80s, Chuck played with New York’s West Street Mob, a rap group with connections to the original Sugar Hill Gang, whose song “Rapper’s Delight” is considered one of the first mainstream hip-hop releases.

Information comes from connect2culture.org, bios and their materials available online.

More about Charles McPherson:

Legendary Alto Saxophonist Charles McPherson Makes His Smoke Sessions Debut with an Inspired New Album, Reverence, Dedicated to Barry Harris

Due out April 26, 2024, These Thrilling Performances Were Captured in Front of a Live Audience at Smoke Jazz Club and Feature His Quintet of Terell Stafford, Jeb Patton, David Wong, and Billy Drummond

Reverence is the First of a Series of Live Recordings Scheduled for Release to Celebrate the 10th Anniversary of Smoke Sessions Records and the 25th Anniversary of Smoke Jazz Club

Never mind Webster’s – how does Charles McPherson define reverence? “To me, it means deep respect and admiration,” explains the legendary saxophonist, who chose the word as the title for his breathtaking new album, Reverence.

“There’s a nostalgic element to it, but you can certainly revere somebody that’s here right now as much as you can have reverence for the past. It definitely describes everything that I feel about the musicians I’ve worked closely with throughout my life, all of whom I respect musically and artistically.”

On his first release for Smoke Sessions Records, due out April 26th, McPherson certainly reveals why he’s been held in such reverence for the last 64 years. The album captures a scintillating live performance from Smoke Jazz Club, where McPherson is joined by his remarkable current group featuring trumpeter Terell Stafford, pianist Jeb Patton, bassist David Wong, and drummer Billy Drummond. The set is a showcase for McPherson’s gifts as both composer and soloist and bridges his deep and far-reaching exploration of the full jazz spectrum.

Reverence kicks off a yearlong series of live recordings celebrating the 25th anniversary of Smoke Jazz Club and the tenth anniversary of its record label, Smoke Sessions. McPherson’s preference for recording live was a major factor in launching this series. After an inspiring, post-pandemic week performing at the recently renovated and reopened Smoke back in November 2022, McPherson knew he wanted to capture that same atmosphere and energy on his next recording, so the decision to skip the studio and record live was a relatively easy one.

Born in Joplin, Missouri, McPherson spent his formative years in the rich jazz city of Detroit, where he was mentored by the late Barry Harris. His closest childhood friend was the future trumpeter Lonnie Hillyer; the two later played together with the iconic Charles Mingus, with whom McPherson would tour and record for more than a decade. McPherson and Hillyer lived just blocks from the famed Blue Bird Inn, a renowned jazz club where the house band included Harris, Pepper Adams, Paul Chambers, and Elvin Jones.

Reverence was born shortly after Barry Harris passed away in late 2021. Harris was a pivotal figure for McPherson, not just as a musician but as a person. In light of his recent passing, Reverence is particularly dedicated to his memory. “Barry was my mentor and my teacher for a long time,” McPherson recalls. “I owe a lot to him. He always told me that there was more to this music than just playing the horn – you actually have to know how to think to be able to do this well. In order to be hip in Detroit at that time you had to know about Bird, but you had to know about Schopenhauer, Miró, Gerald Massey, and Immanuel Kant as well. That opened a lot of doors for me.”

McPherson didn’t set out to undertake an explicit tribute project – there are no Harris compositions in the repertoire, and only the final track, “Ode to Barry,” was penned in homage to the great pianist and educator. But McPherson did set out with the high regard in which he holds Harris in mind and entered into the recording with a sense of reverence both for his longtime mentor and collaborator, as well as for the younger musicians whom he enlisted for the session.

Reverence reconvenes the ensemble that recorded McPherson’s previous album, Jazz Dance Suites, and has cohered into a stellar working group over the last few years. Realizing that the quintet consistently achieved a unique chemistry during live gigs, he determined to make his next release a live album, a nod to the respect and, yes, reverence with which he esteems his current collaborators.

“I chose these players because they represent how I feel about jazz,” McPherson says. “The term ‘jazz’ covers a pretty broad umbrella, and there are a lot of different ways to play what we call jazz, even within the same style. So, when I hire younger players, I hire players who honor and care about the same things that I care about. The members of this band definitely understand the language of bebop, but they’re flexible and can go to a lot of other places as well.”

The album opens with the simmering “Surge,” which bristles with the tidal forces implied by the name and summons keenly focused solos from Stafford, McPherson, and Patton. “Dynamic Duo” winks at McPherson’s boyhood love of comic books as it spotlights the chemistry between Patton and Wong, who have worked together in Patton’s bands as well as with the Heath Brothers. “Blues for Lonnie in Three” has a playful nature, ideal for the lifelong friendship that McPherson shared with Hillyer.

“Ode to Barry” closes the album as a show of respect to Harris, painting a musical portrait of his unique personality. “Barry was an interesting figure because he was very smart and intelligent, but slightly melancholy,” McPherson describes. “There’s a mix of emotions that comes up when I think of him. He was a pensive, thoughtful person with a lot of depth, so I tried to capture his basic emotional makeup with the harmonic coloring of this tune.”

The set is rounded out by a pair of familiar standards: “Come Rain or Come Shine,” the Harold Arlen classic, showcasing the warm tenderness of McPherson’s ballad playing in a quartet setting; and the yearning, nostalgic “Old Folks,” led by a wistful Stafford outing. McPherson chose both tunes, he said, simply because “I consider them beautiful and sophisticated. These tunes are written for adults, not for 12-year-olds.”

The title of Reverence may be intended to reflect the way that McPherson feels towards his late bandmates; it also vividly captures the deep respect felt towards the master saxophonist by his current bandmates – not to mention generations of jazz fans. More than six decades into a remarkable career, few command and deserve our reverence quite like Charles McPherson.

“Reverence” was produced by Paul Stache,

and recorded live in New York at Smoke Jazz Club at 96KHz/24bit.

Available in audiophile HD format, on limited 180g LP, and on 8-panel digipak CD.

Charles McPherson · Reverence

Smoke Sessions Records · Release Date: April 26, 2024

Catalog Number: SSR-2402

For more information on other Smoke Sessions Records releases, please visit:

SmokeSessionsRecords.com | Facebook | Instagram

DL Media

More Monk, plus Mrs. Monk

Thelonious Monk: The Life and Times of an American Original

By Robin D.G. Kelley, 2009

Nellie Monk was a smart and resourceful woman with many roles throughout her life: seamstress, mother, wife with many duties to Monk, as medic, nutritionist, narco officer, and expert in all aspects of the music business. She was his de facto personal manager and assistant road manager.

Juicing was a daily routine for Nellie. There was a dispute about Nellie’s juicing that came to a head at the house. The solution was that Monk moved to the mansion of Pannonica de Koenigswarter (Nica), their friend and benefactor. 

From Kelley’s tome: 438p-440p

The apartment began to resemble a health food store. According to their niece Jackie, “The neighbors would complain because they had so much trash, since it would leave lots of pulp.” … Nellie worked to keep abreast of Monk’s [contracts and] paperwork, but she also needed time to make her juices and nurse others. Monk had become so dependent on Nellie that he felt neglected. …

[Jackie Smith, his niece, said] “He moved in with Nica and never came back.” 

At first, Nellie was distraught. Despite all the stress she endured caring for Thelonious she couldn’t live apart from her husband. They were best friends and she still adored him. And the move gave Nellie a much-needed respite. … Nica and Nellie’s relationship was not harmed by the change; on the contrary, they teamed up rather well to provide the best care possible [for Monk]. 

Thelonious Monk: The Life and Times of an American Original

By Robin D.G. Kelley, 2009

I read this massive biography over two periods of time: the first quarter of it sometime in the last half-decade, and then finished the tome in the last few months. 600 pages! Monk’s life from birth to death. Kelley documents everything. 

Here is an episode from 1953 in Brooklyn.  

There are two names that are similar:  

• Thelonious Monk, the jazz pianist

• Theolonious, Monk’s nephew. 

Kelley interviewed Theolonious on Jan. 30, 2004.

From Kelley’s tome:

Earlier in the week Miles Davis and Max Roach met at Thelonious's apartment to go over the music. Monk’s nephew, Theolonious (“Peanut”), who just happened to come in from playing basketball, witnessed Miles, Monk and Max crammed into the tiny front room with the upright piano. The session turned sour when Miles made disparaging remarks about Monk’s playing. Monk just glared at first, but Miles would not relent and soon the dispute escalated into a shouting match. 

“Max didn’t say nothing,” recalled Theolonious, who was fourteen at the time.

“Uncle Bubba stood up and towered over Miles and they were about to go to blows. And I remember thinking, ‘Who is this little guy? I’ll whip him myself.’ Then my father [Thomas] came in the house and said, ‘Miles, man, you got a problem?’ And Monk said, ‘This is my band, my music.’ Miles said, ‘But you’re not playing it right, Monk.’ Miles looked up at Monk and I thought he was going to hit him with the trumpet. Then Monk finally said, ‘I think you better leave. This is my mother’s house and I don't want no violence in here.’ Then my father went over to Miles and said, ‘Man, I think you better go.’”

Bobby Watson: ‘Back Home in Kansas City’

His latest record is from Smoke Sessions in New York, 2022, and the sentiment is K.C. I found this album on Christmas Day, and I have been discovering things with every listen. The title tune is a fiery warmup, which is useful for below-zero days. 

There are four more pieces by Bobby Watson (alto saxophone).

“Our Love Remains” is a writing collaboration between Bobby and Pamela Watson. Carmen Lundy adds smooth, delicate vocals on this song. 

“Bon Voyage”: The title and the melody feel like Herbie Hancock’s “Maiden Voyage.” For me, I like both voyages. 

The title, “Side Steps,” suggests “Giant Steps,” but the pace is less frenetic.

The last tune is “Blues for Alto,” a romp for everybody at the end of the session.

Three songs are from the players:

“Red Bank Heist”: Victor Jones (drums). Throughout the album, he uses symbols gracefully. On Jones’ tune, Watson and Jeremy Pelt (trumpet) blend really well. I couldn’t hear if they were in unison or harmonizing.

“The Star in the East”: Cyrus Chestnut (piano), with charming solos for Watson and Chestnut. 

“Celestial”: Jeremy Pelt (trumpet): has a welcoming feel with the use of Pelt’s mute. 

Watson also brought in three songs by other writers. One of them was “Dear Lord” by John Coltrane. That piece may make you think about life.