rfhat Grand] vnidsou nd of Betty carter«DexterGordon By Lynn Darroch They ate voraciously as Dean, sandwich in hand, stood bowed and jumping before the big phonograph, listening to a wild bop record I had just bought called "The Hunt,” with Dexter Cordon and Wardell Gray blowing their tops before a screaming audience that gave the record fantastic frenzied volume ... Jack Kerouac, On The Road IT’S BEEN a long road from the wild bop nights of the late ’40s to the jet planes and graying temples of from Los Angeles to Copenhagen and back to New York. Now, when Dexter Gordon appears on stage in the provinces, he can calmly accept our adulation as his due, for he has survived the grim twists of history with his music intact, and brings his own legend alive at every performance. Hipster, bopper, successor to the great Lester Young, Dexter Gordon has been performing professionally for forty years and is the most famous tenor player in the world today. His approach is classic and, although he delivers what we expect of him, it sounds so wonderful that we realize we’ve forgotten how good it is. He announces the first tune in a rumbling baritone: “This number is about a girl who was surrounded by men, but whose heart belonged to only one. Her heart belonged to ‘Tangerine.’” Drummer Eddie Gladden kicks in with pianist Kird Lightsey, and young bassist David Eubanks stares straight ahead, ears bulging to catch every note in a hard-bopping “Tangerine.” “This group is inspiring,” Dexter said of his sidemen, “they add a little more weight to what I do.” He takes a big bite on the mouthpiece, cheeks and jaws clamp the stiff reed, and he blows from his lower belly, blows that famous tone, that inimitably personal, flat thick voice the amber color of honey. After a few choruses the band took over and Dexter stepped back. He let his horn hang from the strap and with bobbing head turned to his sidemen, popped fingers, and started waving arms and cocking wrists in strange hipster poses. He was sweating and caressing the music as it hit the air, not conducting but drawing it from musicians who were flying along without him. Stooped like a great blue heron, his big fingers plucked notes as if they were the juiciest fish from the river. Dexter always starts late, and so it was after one a.m. when they put the wraps on his theme song, “LTD” (Long Tall Dexter). The crowd was still cheering and had risen to its feet. Dexter presented his horn — as he does ritualistically after every number —- holding it up horizontally and bowing slightly in three directions to the audience, blinking eyes wide and with a smile saying yes yes ... Dexter Gordon has been everywhere, has played in Senegal, in Paris, in Japan, and always the response is the same as the crowds clamor for an encore. “You’re so kind, so graaaa-cious,” he intoned, oozing continental charm though dressed in an ancient, unbuttoned sweater vest and rumpled brown slacks. Dexter may play hot but he’s always cool. The sidemen sat back down for the encore. When it was finally over, pianist Lightsey, a young, angular comer in Beatle boots, tight blue slacks and a shaved head, bowed deeply to Dexter, acknowledging the master. Dexter smiled and took it all in stride. DEXTER Gordon has always been a great showman as well as a great musician. He began setting audiences wild as early as 1944, when he was a member of Billy Eckstine’s band. Dexter is charismatic, and possesses the three qualities essential for a great jazz musician: total command of his instrument, original musical ideas, and an engaging, dramatic delivery. Also important is his dedication to the tradition, to jazz as a seriClinton St. Quarterly
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