Let Houston Person Wrap You in His Musical Bear Hug

If there’s any musician who defines jazz as a magnificently social music, totally in touch with a specific audience, it’s this tenor saxophonist.

© Urko Dorronsoro
Houston Person. © Urko Dorronsoro

Houston Person Quartet, ‘Live in Paris’ (High Note Records)
Kim Nalley With Houston Person, ‘I Want a Little Boy’ (Kim Nalley Jazz Productions)

Is Jon Batiste still advocating for the term “social music”? I’m not entirely sure of his reasoning, but it could be that he thought the word “jazz” had too much baggage. Specifically, the modern and postmodern jazz movements have been often accused of being too intellectual, of losing touch with the general audience. Even we staunch defenders of the cause can’t deny that there are occasions when that has happened, although they are a tiny percentage of the overall jazz scene.

If there’s any musician who defines jazz as a magnificently social music, totally in touch with a specific audience, it’s tenor saxophonist Houston Person. At 87, Mr. Person is a big, bear-like man with a big tone that’s both rough and tender. I don’t necessarily mean by turns, but both at the same time. Yes, he will switch between an aggressive uptempo number and a sweet ballad, but his swingers have a touch of romance to them, and his love songs have a mischievous quality that suggests he’s impishly winking at the object of his affection.

As a musician, bandleader, and occasional producer, Mr. Person has been recording consistently for 60 years, and he has a catalog every bit as large as the sound of his horn. (I have about 50 of his albums in my collection, and that’s not counting sideman and guest star appearances.) 

There are at least three modes of Mr. Person’s performances, both in the clubs and on recordings, all of which are represented in recent offerings. For years, his duo with the superb singer Etta Jones was one of the great acts in the jazz world, and to this day Mr. Person spends a lot of his time in the company of singers. His appearances with the late Freddy Cole, for instance, were always occasions to look forward to.  

To that end, he’s a featured co-star and co-producer on “I Want a Little Boy,” a new release by the fine, San Francisco-based singer Kim Nalley. I confess to a certain bias toward any album that includes “It’s All in the Game,” a particular favorite song, and Ms. Nalley is to be commended for both her taste and her bravery. The track starts with a full chorus by Mr. Person, and it’s the rare singer who has both the chops and confidence to willingly follow an act like that.  

Mr. Person’s own ensembles come in two distinct flavors. His organ quartet, which is heard on “Live in Paris,” harkens back to his earliest days (the first official recording in his discography is a 1963 album by Johnny “Hammond” Smith) and is a classic Soul Jazz combo. His quintet, which he brought to Birdland this past weekend, has more of a Hard Bop feeling. Sometimes the two terms are interchangeable, but Mr. Person shows there’s a subtle difference.

Much as I love the organ group, I will never turn down the chance to hear trumpeter Eddie Allen and pianist Lafayette Harris — in many ways, the perfect keyboard partner for Houston Person. Mr. Allen joined Mr. Person primarily on the faster numbers, which were mostly uptempo blues and riff numbers, though they also teamed up for a bouncy “My Funny Valentine” and Benny Carter’s “Rock Me to Sleep.” The trumpet and the tenor were particularly effective together in the codas of various numbers, wherein each tries to top the other with a series of unaccompanied cadenzas: kind of a playful tug-of-war between the two horns. 

For the ballads, Mr. Person, with Mr. Harris, bassist Matthew Parrish, and drummer Vince Ector, proved again he was the only “voice” necessary. No one can play a slow love song like Mr. P, whether soul ballads like “Please Send me Someone to Love” or show tunes like “People” — Percy Mayfield and Jule Styne meet on a level playing field. Mr. Harris accompanied the leader with a remarkably light tone, almost making the grand piano sound like a celeste. Then, on his unaccompanied solo feature, a construct that started with “Londonderry Air” and danced into “It Don’t Mean a Thing,” he unveiled a heavier, more two-fisted approach.

The newly released album, taped in the city of light right before the pandemic, features the classic tenor-organ format, with Ben Paterson on Hammond B3, guitarist Peter Bernstein, and drummer Willie Jones III. There are uptempo blues and riff numbers, like the opener, Johnny Griffin’s “Sweet Sucker,” which might be said are intended, not to mention irresistible, for dancing. Conversely, Mr. Person’s slow love songs might be said to encourage some other forms of “dancing.”  

There’s one tune from Hollywood, “The Way We Were,” one from the R&B songbook, “Since I Fell For You,” and another fine Benny Carter composition, “Only Trust Your Heart,” played as a samba. After this, I don’t think I ever again want to hear a bossa nova without a tenor and hammond organ.

Bandleaders will oftentimes try to engage a crowd by getting them to clap on the beat; whenever Mr. Person plays, the house starts doing so spontaneously. Back in the day, it was considered a compliment to say that a jazz horn player had a sound that was as distinctive as a human voice. With Mr. Person, it’s the other way around: I have yet to hear a singer, Etta Jones and Freddy Cole aside, who can do what Houston Person does with a love song.


The New York Sun

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