Fate stepped in again. Abercrombie's reverberant tone, so somber yet brimming with emotion, had caught the attention
of another gifted young guitarist: Ralph Towner. "I got together with Ralph in New York," he says. "In fact, he’s the
one who got me together with ECM Records. He’d done stuff with [Norwegian saxophonist/composer] Jan Garbarek, and also
with [German bassist/composer] Eberhard Weber. I started meeting all these people, and one day Manfred Eicher
[founder/executive producer of ECM] asked me to make a record. Manfred had heard me play on a record I’d done
with an Italian trumpeter named Enrico Rava, and apparently there was something in my playing that he liked.
First he recommended that I do a couple of things with [soprano saxophonist] Dave Liebman, and then he said,
‘I think you’re ready to do your own record.’ I certainly didn’t feel that way, but one day I just sat down and
started writing some tunes."
A sound was beginning to take shape in Abercrombie’s head, and part of the concept involved the polyrhythmic approach
of his good friend Jack DeJohnette, the brilliant jazz drummer. The two got in touch, whereupon Abercrombie also
called up a former roommate, the Czech keyboardist and Mahavishnu alumnus Jan Hammer. "I told Jack and Jan, ‘This
is how I want my record to be, with an organ sound . . . . ‘" The result was Timeless, a set highlighted by intense
improvisations and slow, moody tone poems. But Timeless was more than simply the newest rung on the ladder for a
fast-rising guitarist. It was an artistic success that brought enthusiastic response from lovers of jazz, fusion
and new music. Here was an electric guitarist who could play in a trio with the likes of Hammer and DeJohnette, who
could contribute significantly as a composer, and who was enough of an individual to resist sounding like yet another
John McLaughlin imitator. The feeling was of someone very new, yet of someone who had been around. From the first
groove of the record, Abercrombie had stepped into the upper echelon of modern guitardom.
"Timeless was the first recording under my own name. I wrote about four of the tunes on it, so at that point I realized
I had a knack for writing. Actually, I hadn’t done much of it until that record. This got me into writing more, and
eventually having my own band."
It was a time when the guitar was the measure of musicianship. Perhaps it was unfair even to him, but with Timeless
Abercrombie had set the bar almost too high. How could he hope to follow it? The answer was simple: Do something
different the next time around. So, he recorded Works, a solo collection resplendent in layers of John’s now-classic
sound. Like its predecessor, it offered a trademark blend of harmonic sophistication and remarkable single-string
technique. Indeed, Abercrombie’s style and approach proved a perfect match for the "ECM sound," which conveyed a
heavy sense of solitude through the use reverberation and other ambient techniques. This isn't to say ECM ever
pandered to the music-as-wallpaper crowd. The ECM label welcomed diversity and change, but it's safe to say it
wouldn't put out the welcome mat for weeny players. Being the creation of a musician who was equally skilled as
an engineer, and populated with a stable of gifted European and American artists, it stood out as a venue for
those who sought more from music than what the usual, market-driven categories could offer. So, Abercrombie--having
started at ECM with a trio before going solo--returned for his third outing with a quartet featuring Ritchie Beirach
on keyboards, Czech bassist George Mraz and Peter Donald on drums.
"I had become a leader at that point," Abercrombie says. "It was the mid ‘70s, and soon we were touring Europe and
the States. The band continued until the early ‘80s, but by that time I’d hooked up with [drummer] Peter Erskine.
He was moving back to New York from L.A., and he said we should get together. On a free night we went down to hear
the Bill Evans Trio, which had Marc Johnson on bass. Hearing Marc just blew my mind. I was floored by his playing,
and he said the feelings were mutual, which I felt was a great compliment. So, Erskine, Johnson and I put together
a trio, and at that point we got into more of an electric style. I started using a guitar synthesizer, which a lot
of people seemed to think I should never have done. The band lasted four or five years. My quartet had made four
records for ECM, but ultimately this trio made five."
The Hammond B3 organ is arguably the most imitated electric keyboard on the planet. Not surprisingly, Abercrombie,
who had come up in Johnny "Hammond" Smith’s band and then featured the organ on Timeless would want to keep the vibe
going. However, it would mean another change in personnel, and an end to the trio with Peter Erskine and Marc Johnson.
"I really wanted to do something with the organ, ‘cause I’d always loved that sound. I had an old friend named
Dan Wall, who said he’d like to do something with me, and I had another friend named Adam Nussbaum, who’s a great
drummer. (I know a lot of great drummers.) So, the new trio became an organ trio." Two studio records were
produced, followed by a live set.
Jazzers seem so accustomed to their lot. Apparently they think nothing of grouping, disbanding, regrouping,
recording and renaming. And while others might think of it as a liability or a barrier to the achievement of
a good old-fashioned reputation, for these guys it can mean a degree of freedom they wouldn’t have otherwise.
Hell, if you’re good enough to go from standards to meterless improvisation, who'd try to stop you? Thus Abercrombie,
by welcoming prodigal string players and percussionists alike, has achieved longevity in his career and diversity in
his musical output.
Now It Gets Personal
Abercrombie is known as much for understated melodic embellishments and soft yet persistent vibrato as he is
for the sound he gets with his guitar. Where one artist would favor a very dry, very present sound--or where
another might employ a touch of slapback to give it some projection--Abercrombie seems to play the room rather
than the amp. His sound, which originates at the soundboard soft and muted, reaches the listener’s ear through
a complex series of reflections, so that there is as much "air" in the notes as there is attack or decay. Well-known
players from contemporary jazz and the studio world have made big money with the help of chorus, shelving and other
time-delay techniques, but Abercrombie’s sonic palette stands apart for its purity and sincerity. Even when he rocks,
it still manages to sound beautiful. So, where did he get such a rich, echoing sound? It'd be easy to assume he picked
it up in church, or amid the hallways and high ceilings of some cavernous old house. But that'd be wrong.
"I could never have found that kind of sound in our house," Abercrombie says. "My bedroom was tiny, and the room
I used for practice was little more than a closet. But when I was young I had a teacher named Bill Frienz. He’d
come over for a half-hour, and he could play some jazzy things. One day he came by with this little reverb unit.
We tried it out, and it was such an attractive sound. From that point on I was really taken with the spaciousness
of the way things could sound. That’s what I like about some of the old Miles records. You could tell they were
getting a bit of reverb, even though it wasn’t a lot. This little Fender thing was amazingly cool. Still, in those
days there wasn’t much of a choice in terms of amps. There was tremolo, but nobody really used it except to play
like Duane Eddy. You had nothing to compare to, so you just relied on your amp. Most of my amps had spring reverb,
which I always used. So, I guess you can blame it all on that.
"Years later I got an Echoplex, but I never really figured out how to use those things. I remember the first digital
reverb I came across. I was working a gig in Munich, and everybody knew how much I loved reverb. Somebody suggested
I try a unit by Dynacord. I went down to the local music store and plugged it in, and immediately I had to have it.
It cost everything I was going to make that week. I still have it, in fact."
Abercrombie credits his love of echo to the fabled Fender design, with its tube-driven signal path and integral
springs. According to Keith Gregory at Gruhn Guitars in Nashville, that would be a "Fender Reverb Unit." Introduced
in 1961, the Reverb featured a brown Tolex covering with a flat logo and a leather handle. The face panel was also
brown, as were the knobs and a plastic domed switch. It incorporated a two-spring pan and a footswitch with a ¼" jack.
The amplifier is somewhat less critical in the equation. For lives dates Abercrombie will usually request a Mesa-Boogie
or a Roland Jazz Chorus. At home he routes his signal through a Mesa-Boogie preamp and then into a Walter Woods stereo
power amplifier, and then augments it with a Boss SE-50 reverb and a multi-effects unit.
"For a while I was so involved with synthesizers that it became an obsession. But eventually I had to get away from
that, because the sound started to feel very synthetic. Basically, I gave all the stuff away, but I still have that
Roland GR-300."
(End of part 2) » Part 3 |
