The list of jazz harpists might be a short one, but a substantial conversation can be had over the instrument’s use in improvisational terms, and without even uttering the worthy name of Alice Coltrane. To this day Dorothy Ashby’s profile as a jazz harp player remains high, and those in sync with the Soul/Spiritual/Acid jazz genres have long praised her late-‘60s/early-‘70s recordings for the Cadet label. Earlier in her career however, she succeeded in adapting her sizable axe to the far stricter norms of post-bop. Her second LP is 1957’s Hip Harp, and it endures as a highly satisfying, non-gimmicky listen.
Like many jazz musicians, the late Dorothy Ashby was a multi-instrumentalist. Starting out on the piano, she also played saxophone and bass while attending Cass Technical School, where amongst her fellow students was future trumpet great Donald Byrd and the excellent post-bop guitarist Kenny Burrell. The Detroit native only chose the harp as her main tool after graduating from Wayne State University, and in fact her introduction to the city’s jazz scene found her seated not at the harp but directly in front of those 88s.
Ashby’s biography presents her as a whirlwind of activity. Rather than accept the harp as a sideline, she organized free shows with her trio (which included her drummer husband John) and accepted non-prestigious but paying gigs at dances and weddings. Eventually her group toured the country. Furthermore, she worked in the employ of heavyweights Louis Armstrong and Woody Herman.
During the ‘60s Ashby was also a disc jockey, and in tandem with her husband she formed The Ashby Players, a very successful troupe dedicated to producing theater relevant to Detroit’s African-American community. Dorothy mainly wrote and performed the scores (many of the plays were musical in nature), but she also took a starring role in the production 3-6-9.
And through it all she was recording albums; by ’62 she was by far the most famous jazz harpist on the scene. And to highlight her achievement, it’s important to note that significant jazz harp action did transpire prior to Ashby’s emergence; there was Caspar Reardon in Jack Teagarden’s band, Corky Hale with Herman, Gail Laughton with the group of undersung leader Boyd Raeburn, and Adele Girard playing with her hubby Joe Marsala.
Though Ashby was the first to cut an LP as a leader on the instrument, in ’55 Betty Glamann (a vet from the bands of Duke Ellington, Marian McPartland, and Oscar Pettiford) co-lead Poinciana with bassist Rufus Smith for the Bethlehem label (the Smith-Glamann Quintet was an unusually augmented outfit that included an accordionist in Nick Perito).
Ashby’s The Jazz Harpist was made in ’56 for Regent, a subsidiary of major jazz imprint Savoy, and it was released the following year. Featuring a group of crack session men, namely flautist Frank Wess, drummer Ed Thigpen, and alternating bassists Eddie Jones and Wendell Marshall, the record put her on the map. In ’58 she managed two LPs for Prestige, with the second In a Minor Groove landing on Bob Weinstock’s oft-intriguing niche label New Jazz.
Her sophomore effort was Hip Harp, and along with an attractively alliterative appellation the music registers as an advance over the pleasant but perhaps too cautious and frequently sedate The Jazz Harpist. The problem seemingly wasn’t with the engineering; albums one through three were all recorded by Rudy Van Gelder at his Hackensack, NJ studio.
Additionally, Frank Wess’ flute is present on them all, so the instrumentation is the same, if a few of the players do change. And the shift in personnel is worth noting. For instance, drum giant Art Taylor replaces Thigpen on Hip Harp, and to my ear it’s a marked improvement. Right from the beginning Taylor is assertive with his brushes, bringing the needed amount of edge to the bluesy Ashby original “Pawky.”
His delivery is welcome given the general lack of tension that flute brings to the post-bop equation. I’m certainly not alone in complaining about the prevalence of said instrument in the jazz context, though I also don’t want to come off like a caveman beating his chest and chanting “Me want tenor sax!” The truth is that Wess’ solo on “Pawky” is hearty enough to add discernible weight to the proceedings and does so without being over-busy. It’s surely a vast upgrade of the previous LP’s (appropriately named) “Quietude.”
Since he appears on her first three discs, Ashby no doubt approved of Wess’ sound, as she did with Detroit guy Herman Wright; from this point the bassist figured on all of her records up to the mid-‘60s. He contributes an authoritative line to “Pawky,” and his echo-tinged solo is a treat. Ashby offers unforced qualities of the blues and radiates undercurrents of Modern swing throughout, with these elements especially in evidence in her improvising.
The standard “Moonlight in Vermont” contains an abundance of celestial strumming, but thankfully the prettiness of Wess’ blowing falls short of preciousness, and while Taylor doesn’t get much to do, Wright manages to insert a few choice licks. Then everybody follows suit in the uptempo Ashby composition “Back Talk,” even if Wright nearly steals the show with a particularly funky spot.
At faster speeds the harpist’s playing can be somewhat reminiscent of an oddly-tuned electric guitar, and that’s the case in their sturdy take of the chestnut “Dancing in the Dark,” though Ashby also displays interesting range in her solos. And Hip Harp is very much about solos. If the leader’s instrument brought an air of the unusual to the record, there seemed to be no interest on the part of Weinstock to stretch the LP’s framework beyond the mainstream.
Ashby would get her chance at that later, when she hooked up with arranger Richard Evans for the Chess Records-subsidiary Cadet. Prestige’s mission here was to establish the harpist’s instrumental voice and leadership abilities as firmly inside the tradition, and the trim and buoyant “Charmaine” attains this goal with ease.
While the addition of Taylor and Wright does assist in making Hip Harp preferable to The Jazz Harpist, also helping is the follow-up’s overall air of liveliness, an aspect only enhanced by the disc’s third Ashby tune “Jollity.” The snappiness is even there on the closing run-through of Rogers and Hart’s “There’s a Small Hotel.”
Hip Harp and In a Minor Groove (which is technically a co-leadership date with Wess) are the strongest of Ashby’s purely post-bop showings, with Taylor replaced by the estimable Roy Haynes on the second. 1961 produced two further LPs, one a very solid self-titled trio effort for Argo with Wright and drummer John Tooley and the other Soft Winds a quartet session for Jazzland again with Wright, veteran kit-man Jimmy Cobb and pianist/vibraphonist Terry Pollard that hints at her direction soon to come.
There was also a ’65 album for Atlantic titled The Fantastic Jazz Harp of Dorothy Ashby. Due to the inclusion of bassist Richard Davis, I’d really like to hear that one before shuffling off this mortal coil. And Ashby’s releases for Cadet definitely offer moments, but they also present a floating (and yes occasionally heavenly) atmosphere that’s combined with bold commercial tendencies.
At times it borders on insubstantiality. Frankly, I prefer my Spiritual Jazz to be at least a little bit conversant with the Fire Music of Coltrane, Sanders and Shepp. Others may enjoy the missing abrasion/dissonance in Ashby’s more Acid Jazz-friendly approach, and that’s cool. But for me, Hip Harp resides just shy of classic status, and it’s also a very consistent listen. Folks into post-bop that haven’t heard Dorothy Ashby pluck her strings should take note of this LP.
GRADED ON A CURVE:
B+
