In 1963 when Columbia and Atlantic were duking it out for bragging rights in the field of jazz, the great Columbia impresario, John Hammond brought in a new flutist to make a record. That flutist was the young Jeremy Steig—probably one of the finest virtuoso instrumentalists—and another young pianist who was also making his recording debut. The record they made with bassist Ben Tucker and drummer Ben Riley came to be Flute Fever, which has now come to be a classic of its time. Now brilliantly re-mastered and packaged for CD by Jonathan Horwich at his International Phonograph Inc., this magnificent set is journeying to become a classic for all time. Such a thing is possible because of the music as well as the magnificent package. It is made from an analogue recording and re-mastered on equipment so sensitive that it has preserved—thanks to Mr. Horwich’s ingenuity—the pristine recording of the original date. But that is only the half of it. The other half is the music, which is so far ahead of time it predates many other flute and piano recordings that came long after it.
The “leader” on the date, Jeremy Steig was a dazzling flutist who was also the son of New Yorker cartoonist William Steig, and a budding cartoonist himself. It would seem that the younger Mr. Steig was raised with a flute to his lips; such is the genius of his playing on Flute Fever. Not only is the flutist one of the great virtuoso players on his instrument, but he is also one of the most innovative and creative flutists as well. On this recording listeners hear how Mr. Steig addressed the tonal color restrictions of the instrument: by the use of “modern” acoustic techniques voice multi-phonics and overtones similar to those used by the legendary multi reeds and woodwinds player Rahsaan Roland Kirk. Mr. Steig also used the keys of his flute as a percussion device to augment the kick of the bass drum with resonant beats half way through the rhythm cycle. His brilliance is such that on the solo on “Oleo” it is hardly possible for the listener to exhale as Mr. Steig runs down the melody, fluttering up and down with diminished and augmented harmonics. He does this again on the wonderfully melancholic chart, “Lover Man”. This playing is what defines the recording.
Although the entire album contains flawlessly played music another surprise on the re-mastered album—and a welcome one at that—is the alternate take of “What Is This Thing Called Love”. This alternate is actually the first take of the song and also goes to show the uncanny empathy between the players; bassist Ben Tucker, who also has a racy solo on “So What,” and drummer Ben Riley and the other excellent debutant, Denny Zeitlin. Mr. Zeitlin plays soli that are chromatically astounding. He absolutely commands the grand keyboard to bow to his commands as his lithe fingers tear up and down the ebony and ivory. The pianist’s masterful playing was the shape of things to come as Mr. Zeitlin developed into one of the most ingenious pianists of today. His soli on “What Is This Thing Called Love” and Thelonious Monk’s “Well You Needn’t” are nothing short of majestic. It is a pity that he and the somewhat reclusive Mr. Steig are not better known today. Yet this recording and its re-release ought to give a lesson in genius and bring their achievements to a newer and wider audience. - Raul Da Gama
Flute Fever, the 1963 Columbia Records debut by flutist Jeremy Steig, has somehow, until now, avoided release on CD. Thanks to reissue producer Jonathan Horwich, Steig's beautifully remastered and packaged freshman recording is now available. And it's not only Steig's premier as a recording artist, it's also a recording first for pianist Denny Zeitlin, on a quartet that's rounded out by veterans Ben Riley on drums, and Ben Tucker on bass.
It's a blowing session—no group rehearsal, just some brief pre-recording discussions about how to approach some familiar tunes. But man, what a blowing session.
The wild men of jazz are usually saxophonists. Flute players are more apt to roll with a laid-back and gentile approach to the music; but Jeremy Steig—as green as could be in terms of recording resume—comes out blowing like the devil on saxophonist Sonny Rollins'"Oleo." After a brief period of restraint on the tune's opening, Steig ratchets the energy level up to the clouds. Zeitlin, in the accompaniment mode, stays right with him, stabbing sharp statements into what amounts to a fire and brimstone flute rant. If Steig sounds as if he's trying to fly off the face of the Earth, Zeitlin—on a masterful solo—sounds like an architect designing an ornate edifice meant to last forever down here on the ground.
And its worth mentioning: these guys were young. Steig, born in 1942, was 21. Zeitlin was twenty-five. - Dan McClenaghan
Tracks
1. Oleo (Sonny Rollins)
2. Lover Man (Oh, Where Can You Be)
3. What Is Things Called Love (Cole Porter)
4. So What (Miles Davis)
5. Well, You Needn't (Thelonious Monk)
6. Willow Weep For Me (Ann Ronell)
7. Blue Seven (Sonny Rollins)
8. What Is Things Called Love / Take 1 (bonus track)
JEREMY STEIG flute
DENNY ZEITLIN piano
BEN TUCKER bass
BEN RILEY drums
Recorded October 23, 1963 at New York City, NY
Columbia CL-2136/CS-8936