Cal Tjader “Last Night When We Were Young”

I love a meandering intro, where you have no idea what the song is—if I ever write a song again—memo: include a meandering intro! Here, it’s piano, and it’s very nice, but when that electronic vibraphone sound comes in with the melody of “I Can’t Get Started” it’s otherworldly sounding! My favorite moment on this record—does that mean the rest of the playing time can’t add up? No, it’s all very fine. “With strings” as it says right on the cover—and vibes, piano, guitar, bass, and drums. I particularly like some of the guitar—Eddie Duran on the six-string comforter. Cal Tjader is most known for Latin music, which is absent here, so buyer beware, I guess—but this a really nice collection of ballad interpretations, some standards, songs you know—the above, the title song, “Emily,” “What’ll I Do,” “For All We Know,” and a Bacharach. Only four songs per side, however, so my main complaint is it’s all too brief, which is too bad, since this would be an ideal, lowlight, easygoing, make-out record—but unless you’ve got one of those automatic changers, you’re gonna have to work fast.

I was looking at the big “i” to see what far-off land Cal Tjader was born in, since I couldn’t remember (St. Louis)—when the search suggested “cause of death”—is it somehow controversial? (No. Like everyone born before like 1980 he died from cigarettes, whether they say that or not.) But I figure the real reason is he made so many records—he was tired out. I can’t even count them all, so many—from 1953 or so up to his death in 1982. This one is from 1975. But what’s equally impressive is whose records he collaborated on, and then just played on—I mean you had to show up to the studio. There was no Skype. When did he have time to eat dinner, or go to a baseball game, much less go to the bathroom. He’s on so many records, I figured he might have been malletting those vibes until he was like hundred—but no! He died ten years younger than I am now! It makes you reflect.

Liner notes by Herb Wong, a Bay Area jazzbo, are in micro-font, white on black, italics, with a righthand margin called somebody’s idea of a joke. They’d better be spicy. Very thought-out and informative, and he argues that this is serious business, not to be confused with “mood music” or “dinner jazz”—and you won’t find any argument from me, in spite of my comment (above) about the record’s potential suitability for a romantic interlude. The album cover is a bit bizarre—and kept reminding me of something—the closest I could figure was that it looks like a warm-tone version of Robin Trower’s “Bridge of Sighs” (1974). You could call it an “abstract” and be arguably correct—but if you look at it with the right slant, I think you’ll realize it’s an extremely blown-up color photo of a woman’s mouth, backlit so the red lipsticked lower lip resembles something very hot, glowing, or juicy (all of which could be correct). And if I’m wrong—that’s the power of the imagination. Speaking of which, on the other hand, I can’t get it out of my mind that it also makes me think of E.T. (The Extra-Terrestrial) in that scene where he lowers himself down on victims to suck their blood. Yee-ow. I still get nightmares from that movie.

4.3.26