WILL THAT BE NYLON OR STEEL . . . ?

A few weeks ago I tuned in for the first time to Skylark, a relatively unheralded album by alto saxophonist Paul Desmond. Recorded late in 1973 and released on vinyl on the CTI label, it shows some of the handmarks of producer Creed Taylor, including arrangements by Don Sebesky, which tended to encourage noodling on the part of the players—meandering soloing, presumably intended to register the laid-back temper of the time. Aiming to expand the commercial market for jazz by smoothing off some of the inherent edginess of mainstream convention (note the extensive presence of Bob James’s mellow electric piano on this recording, along with the inclusion of pop musician Paul Simon’s song “Was a Sunny Day”), CTI had its moment that in a way also helped to define the moment. (I must pause here in the midst of my mild critique of CTI to admit that even while I am thinking offhand of long-winded albums like Freddie Hubbard’s Red Clay and Straight Life, one of my favorite jazz recordings of all time is part of that label’s catalogue: guitarist Jim Hall’s Concierto, which also features Desmond on alto and Chet Baker on trumpet, along with Sir Roland Hanna on piano and Steve Gadd on drums . . .)

I actually picked up Skylark mainly to give a listen to Hungarian-born guitarist Gábor Szabó, who in the CD liner notes is attributed with “all solos.” I think that I own Szabó’s album Mizrab on vinyl, but it is buried in the basement (and I don’t currently own a turntable), so he has not really been part of my aural landscape in recent years; still, I was able to recognize right away his distinctive tone—a bit “thin” and at times a bit wavering—in his single-string soloing. But the real surprise and the real treat of the album is not the playing of Szabó but of the “second” guitarist for the session, Gene Bertoncini: while he may not be given the nod by Taylor and Sebesky to stretch out in linear fashion like Szabó, his simpatico comping behind both Desmond and Szabó really lends the album its defining texture. I have to admit that on a first listen I did not attribute that rich and expressive background chording (and occasional chord soloing) to Bertoncini; but seeing his name in the liner notes, I was prompted to drop him an email and he wrote back to explain: “Actually, Gábor is only on a couple of things. . . . That’s me on the tune ‘Skylark,’ which turned out to have some nice interplay between Paul and myself.”

But, really, I should have known without being told; for while Bertoncini plays electric guitar on the album—not his signature sound of recent years, which is mostly nylon-strung acoustic—his contribution to Skylark has the “architectural” consistency that many listeners would identify as his truly defining musical signature: lines that move simultaneously both horizontally and vertically—both melodically and harmonically—thanks to his subtle and tasteful chord voicings in the left hand and his deft righthand finger-picking. Referring to Bertoncini’s playing in terms of architecture—he received his degree in Architecture from the University of Notre Dame back in the late ’50s—might seem a bit too obvious, but it really does seem like an apt metaphor to describe not only his spatial conception of musical arrangement but likewise his approach to the guitar as what Hector Berlioz referred to as “a little orchestra.” I have several of his albums on my iPod—including a solo outing titled Body and Soul and a set of duo arrangements, Two In Time, with bass player Michael Moore. In each case, his exquisite playing on his nylon-strung Buscarino ensures that distinctive Gene Bertoncini sound.

Coincidentally, right around the same time that I picked up Skylark, I found in my office mailbox Compass Rose, a newly-minted CD by my friend and colleague Peter Janson, who teaches guitar at UMass Boston. Like Winter Gifts, an earlier CD of his that I wrote about in this blog a few months ago, this one features what is clearly Peter’s “signature sound”: steel-strung finger-picked solo acoustic guitar. As with Winter Gifts, the playing here is superior—with his contrapuntal arrangements, Peter sounds at times like he is playing with four hands, and he brings out all the natural warmth of the acoustic guitar. His tune selection is also impressive, ranging from original compositions like “Bluebird” and “Binnacle” to “Black Mountain Side” (recorded by Jimmy Page on Led Zeppelin’s debut album) to tunes from the Irish and Celtic tradition like “Rose of Allendale,” “Planxty Irwin,” and “The Return from Fingal.” There is also a nice scattish vocal on a tune called “The Magic Box”—could that possibly be Peter himself scatting? Aptly, one of the tunes on the album is called “Steel String Surprise,” which features sweet lyrical playing punctuated by nicely-placed harmonics.

Having given a nod to Buscarino, the maker of Gene Bertoncini’s guitar, I would be remiss in not acknowledging that on Compass Rose Peter Janson plays guitars made by Bill Tippin of Marblehead, Mass. and by Ted Thompson of Vernon, British Columbia.