Infinite MonkeysMax Roach, one of the greatest drummers of the 20th century, died Friday morning. He was 83. As the New York Times notes in its lengthy obituary, Roach was more than just a jazz drummer. His style transcended genres, and his influence spans generations. I first heard Roach in 1988, long after his heydey and when I knew little about the man or his music. It wasn't until 1999 that I really took an interest in jazz and the innovations of the 1940s and '50s. Roach was one of the names I recognized, and his music fascinated me instantly.
Roach always impressed me as a serious musician who never allowed the trappings of fame or the allure of the Bohemian life to pull him away from what mattered most. In fact, that characterization is not quite true. After the untimely death of his friend and greatest collaborator, Clifford Brown, Roach fell into a deep depression that he exaggerated with alcohol. Yet, as the New York Times notes, Roach still managed to work and even compose.
I suppose it's Clifford and Max, together again, in one of the greatest jams of eternity. I hope Mingus and Bird and Bud Powell made the scene. I'm sure Dizzy, Bags and John Lewis are sitting in. Buddy's waiting for his rematch, no doubt. Maybe Miles will make an appearance? Hard to say.
Late last night, I listened again to "Money Jungle," the magnificent album Roach recorded in 1962 with Charles Mingus and Duke Ellington. I think it was one of the first jazz records I ever bought, so it's tough to evaluate it critically. Truth is, I love it without reservation. Listen to "A Little Max" and ponder what the world has lost.
Posted by H.L. Monkey at August 17, 2007 09:28 PM