Also this issue:

Keys to the Kingdom
Pianist Brad Mehldau goes his own way.
-Nate Chinen

Preston to Action
Spiral Stairs proves the Pavement dynasty’s for real.
-Brian Howard

Coming Out of the Dark
Peter Murphy drops Dust on his old image.
-Helen H. Thompson

Alejandro Escovedo
-Sam Adams

Pete Moss
-Sean O’Neal

June 6-12, 2002

the gig

by Nate Chinen

“You know,” says Motss, “[if] you’re a writer, that’s your script. [If] you’re a director --” He gesticulates, as if stating the obvious. “But if you’re the producer -- what did you do? What did you do? All you’ve got is the credit … Some plaque on the wall.”

Motss, of course, is the Hollywood producer played by Dustin Hoffman in Wag the Dog (directed by Barry Levinson, written by David Mamet, and -- ahem -- produced by Levinson and Robert De Niro). His point, although self-serving, has a certain ring of truth: Most people, when pressed, would admit to having no idea what a movie producer really does. The same people probably would be just as baffled by the idea of a record producer -- despite the celebrated status of pop producers old (Ahmet Ertegun, Quincy Jones) and new (Dan Nakamura, the Neptunes).

In jazz, record producers are an even more invisible presence; it's one obvious consequence of a music that, for the most part, distrusts intervention and prizes "pure" artistic intent. But there's an art to putting out a record, and sometimes an artist's vision can only be sharpened through a producer's objective lens. It would be hard to imagine the discographies of Ella Fitzgerald, Bill Evans or John Coltrane without, respectively, Norman Granz, Orrin Keepnews and Bob Thiele. Or Miles Davis, as we know him, without Teo Macero. This tradition continues today through such dissimilar figures as ECM's Manfred Eicher (to whom Gary Peacock ascribes "the best ears in the business") and Verve's Tommy LiPuma (the man behind the curtain on those Diana Krall records). Bottom line: A good producer's presence is felt even when it's neither seen nor heard.

Conversely, the absence of good production can result, not surprisingly, in a lesser product. Consider Cassandra Wilson, who rose to prominence on the strength of two mid-'90s albums produced by Craig Street. The singer's new album, Belly of the Sun (Blue Note), is good but not great -- and the problem, I'll venture to say, is that the album was self-produced.

Wilson is but one example. Truthfully, the vast majority of jazz albums -- especially the non-vocal variety -- suffer from production-deficiency disorder. Yet a growing number of musicians lately have sought out the thoughtful production that pop artists take for granted. I'm thinking of current or forthcoming releases by Tim Berne, Kurt Rosenwinkel, Brad Mehldau and John Scofield (produced respectively by David Torn, Q-Tip, Jon Brion and Jason Olaine). Of course, not every artist would do well with this approach -- I'm not necessarily advocating a Lee Konitz/Timbaland collaboration. But, hopefully, musicians can learn from these examples, irrespective of genre or style.

To report a gig -- or any other jazz-related news -- e-mail Nate Chinen at n_chinen@citypaper.net.