The sad news of Elvin's passing on May 18th 2004 came as a shock to everyone who knew and loved him and his music, though it was not entirely unexpected. Those who wish to know the details should try eJazzNews.com or a similiar site. My own feeling is that it signals the ending of an era. This discography is incomplete, however, and will probably remain so; I do not see a flood of reissues coming, nor a time when this great artist's work will be any easier to find than it is now - though I could be completely wrong. It would be nice if the live recordings Elvin and the Jazz Machine made for Japanese labels in his later years became available in Europe, for instance (and it is worth noting that the Japanese were probably Elvin's most devoted and appreciative audience, as well as being one of the few with the sense to record him - where the hell were you, corporate America? Ignoring your artists, wasting resources) although it is unlikely. Time will tell. It has to be said, too, that a lot of Elvin's finest late appearances are as a revered guest on other musician's recordings...my opinion is that you must hear 'Upon Reflection' by Hank Jones, 'Autumn Leaves' by the Great Jazz Trio, John Mclaughlin's 'After the Rain', Michael Brecker's 'Time is of the Essence', Kenny Garrett's 'African Exchange Student', and 'Ask the Ages' by Sonny Sharrock, and there are plenty more. Elvin played on so many sessions that it's not possible to list them all without an awful lot of research, and I will leave that to the authors of a biography which is apparently in preparation. Meanwhile, I have made hardly any changes to the following pages - I am not going to substitute 'was' for 'is' right now. So this is a tribute to, and small memoir of, one of the 20th century's very greatest musicians.

This article will discuss the greater portion of Elvin Jones' recorded output as a solo artist. New releases will be mentioned as I discover them, but will be reviewed only when I have enough money to buy them.
The opinions expressed herein are solely those of the author, a musician who bought every album or cd reviewed or discussed in this article.

Elvin Jones has visited Ronnie Scott’s club in London almost every year for the past three decades. My own experience of seeing Elvin has been almost exclusively in this club; I first saw him there in the 1970’s, leading a quartet with Steve Grossman and Roland Prince. These days, Elvin’s group - the Jazz Machine - is a quintet (though that may have changed by the time you read this), a mixture of young players and seasoned veterans. The sets start late at Ronnies, and it’s nearly 11pm when Elvin is introduced. By reason of his longevity, Jones is jazz royalty now, and can afford to take a little time (well, 15 minutes) to make a speech, in which he thanks everybody for supporting jazz, says how glad and privileged he is to be here, introduces the band, and tells us what they’re going to play; he also explains that he feels at home whenever he comes to the club. He probably makes the exact same speech wherever he plays, and wherever he does, it’s probably true... For he really is at home, in any jazz venue anywhere in the world. He’s gotten into giving such introductions in the last decade or so - and this is a different Elvin Jones from the 1970’s version; the snarl has been replaced by a beatific grin, and the white-hot, ferocious urgency has been trimmed to a steady flame. He has, after all, passed 70.

A Jones set consists of three numbers,usually an original, a ballad, and a standard. Everybody solos (there is a lot of space), which means that it is not often that the whole band plays ensemble, except for the heads. Elvin sits centre-stage at his kit, with (at this gig) Sonny Fortune and Robin Eubanks to his left, and the young bass player and pianist to his right. He begins; and at this point it becomes clear that there is almost a ceremonial aspect to all of this... for he is like a tribal chief, flanked by elders and young warriors. You are watching a master musician who has outlived many of his contemporaries and has come to represent the continuance of a music (or musical tradition) that he sincerely believes is the greatest art form of the 20th century. Listen; and if you do, you will hear the musical thoughts of someone who was there with Duke, with Coltrane, Miles, Rollins, Lee Morgan, Gil Evans, Bud Powell, and many, many more; someone whose playing, rhythmic stylings and innovations - call them what you will - embody not just the dark throb of jazz’s heartbeat, but something deeper still, a connection to some sort of primal, circadian rhythm that goes way back... Just his ride cymbal alone carries enormous weight and authority. Each stroke is like the heavy, even ticking of some huge, universal clock; quartz-locked, atomic, it carries the whole band.

As he has got older, Jones has reduced the content of his playing, with the result that the stylistic elements have become more pronounced; meaning he doesn't say as much, but the statements appear to carry more weight. And these days, rather than layering the polyrhythms, he will break the beat down, playing right on the back edge, striking one surface at a time as if examining each element in close-up. I really began to notice this in the eighties. One night I watched Elvin play an entire set this way, never hitting more than one thing at a time...Joe Lovano was in the band, and it was absolutely blazing...Jones seemed to be moving in slow-motion, the drum strokes almost involuntary, spasmodic. It was pure feeling; at such times, he is so engrossed in the rhythmic pulse he is creating that he appears to ignore the soloist. This, however, can be deceptive.

As tonight; Carlos Mckinney starts a piano solo. The cymbal ticks. Mckinney gets into it, a glittering line with rolling chords building beneath; Elvin presides...the cymbal ticks. Mckinney piles it on, arpeggios over blocked ascending chords, louder and louder; Elvin beams... and the cymbal ticks. Now the pianist is at triple forte, huge washes of sound, two handed octave runs up and down the piano - the guy is almost bashing it with his head and falling off the stool before Jones suddenly erupts with a snarl, goaded finally into response. He leans forward, arms blur as he thrashes the kit, pushing his sideman to a frenzied climax, thunderous...and as the audience roars, and Mckinney subsides, exhausted, he calmly settles back onto the ride cymbal again, smiling benevolently. And so it continues. His band, his tempo, his sound.

Occasionally, though, the tables are turned. I was watching the band with Pat Labarbera finishing a set at Ronnie's one time in the 70's; it was getting late, and - at my seat in front of the stand - I was so focused on the music being played that I hardly noticed three large gentlemen in overcoats, moving from the dark recesses of the club to seat themselves at a table somewhere to my right. The energy level of the music seemed to increase just at that moment, and Elvin's final solo was particularly ferocious. Afterwards, he jumped up, got on the mike and introduced the three; Buddy Rich, Louie Bellson, and (I think) Shelly Manne. Some audience, even for Elvin Jones.

A jazz drummer isn't merely a timekeeper. All musicians keep time; the best ones own a piece of it. Elvin is the time, for any musician he plays with. He sets the tempo and beat and seems to instinctively count across it, in triplets (obviously) but in other subdivisions as well. He constantly varies the 'feel', which means that he places a stroke, phrase or fill earlier or later than the listener would expect. Slightly earlier (ahead or right on top of the beat) has the effect of pushing or driving things along, putting a sense of urgency or insistence into the music, whereas playing behind the beat both relaxes this and increases the listener's anticipation, adding weight, groove, tension, and a sense of the inevitable about to happen. There are several audibly different, quite measurable variations of 'feel' which depend on just how far ahead or behind the player is, and it is even possible to program a computer or drum machine to do it; but there are other factors in the equation. Jazz musicians edit the dynamics of their playing spontaneously, and a drummer strikes harder or softer on different areas of the playing surface to emphasize, mark off, or colour a passage. The editing process is continuous, and variations in timing or feel are part of it. Then there is personality and style; Elvin may play time slightly ahead on the ride cymbal, subdividing the meter while maintaining a constant dialogue between the snare, toms, and bass drum. Snare beats are often delayed to the point of displacement, the bass drum used for rhythmic kicks (on, off and across the beat), and the toms generate further cross-rhythms. When all this is going on at once, the famous 'circle of sound' is created.

And the sound is...elemental. Critics have compared it to the sound of thunder, and this is true; when Elvin plays quietly with mallets on toms, you can easily imagine distant, muffled thunder. Extend that a little and the cymbals might hiss like a steady, driving rain, and the snare crack like lightning or roar like a forest fire. Colours, too - dark hues of red, earth brown, deep blues; shot through with gold, white shafts of light from the snare. All very subjective, but most people who have listened to and heard Elvin with Coltrane will have imagined something...like this, perhaps - or been inspired to a whole lot more.

Many of Jones' key recordings as a leader are deleted; the Blue Note home page lists not one CD. It is interesting to compare this with Blue Note's listing for Tony Williams (all of his last six albums have gone), and for Art Blakey (get 'em while you can)...CDs get deleted quickly, these days. However, there is a limited edition boxed set - 'The Complete Blue Note Recordings' - still just about available, from Mosaic (www.mosaicrecords.com) which runs to eight CDs, contains every album Elvin recorded for the label, and costs $128 (about £85) or thereabouts; also, see Elvin's home page (www.elvinjones.com), and www.hipcitymusic.com, which has lots of stuff about him (the author, musician Steve Griggs, has two CDs available with Elvin on) and plenty of links. Elvin has made around 50 albums and CDs as a leader, and there are reissues and new recordings of the Jazz Machine on the way, also. I will attempt to mention every one I've heard about, so the reader at least knows of the item's existence. This isn't a comprehensive discography; if you wish to correct, contribute to, or contradict it, please let me know. Elvin, being a living legend, is important enough for a full biography, in my opinion....but any discography to accompany such a book would have to include all of his sessions as a sideman; listing these is an enormous task, and anyone interested should try the All Music Guide website (www.allmusic.com). I would emphasize here that I am not a critic or professional writer, merely a guitar player who buys Elvin Jones albums, so this is an enthusiast's guide for those who wish to try and track some of these recordings down. I hope too, that my chronology is more or less correct.
August 2001. Updated May 2004.

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