Herbie Hancock, "Head Hunters" (Columbia, 1973)
The worlds of jazz and rock converged in the late 1960s as a musical form called fusion, its origins usually attributed to Miles Davis and his groundbreaking "In a Silent Way" and "Bitches Brew" albums.
Shortly afterward, Davis' sidemen became the vanguard for the new sound: Tony Williams with his band, Lifetime; Joe Zawinul and Wayne Shorter with Weather Report; John McLaughlin with the Mahavishnu Orchestra (by way of Lifetime); and Chick Corea with Return to Forever.
Another of Miles' collaborators, keyboardist Herbie Hancock, already had attained a large degree of popularity as a solo artist by the time jazz musicians started exploring fusion. He was in his very early 20s when Mongo Santamaria scored a hit with a version of Herbie's song "Watermelon Man," and he continued to draw fan support on his own and with Miles throughout the '60s.
His recordings for Blue Note during that period evolved progressively to straddle the thin line between straight jazz and rock, and he finally crossed with his three albums with Warner Brothers from 1969 through 1971. His band cooked up a funky stew full of electronic sounds that seemed to herald a new direction for popular music.
Those efforts came to fruition with "Head Hunters," his second recording for Columbia, which pushed it to the upper reaches of the charts and made it the all-time top-selling jazz album for a spell. Actually, classifying it as "jazz" is a little misleading; it sounds more like what R&B should have evolved into as musicians became more aware of the sonic possibilities of their instruments. (For another fine example of music in a similar vein, check out George Clinton/Parliament/Funkadelic/P-Funk/etc.)
The centerpiece of "Head Hunters" is the 15-minute opener, "Chameleon," which is carried by an infection bass line and a melody consisting of just a few very well-placed notes, courtesy of Herbie and reed player Bennie Maupin. Following an extended jam featuring a host of otherworldly sounds, the tune careens into a bridge that serves as a showcase for Herbie's Fender Rhodes electric piano, buttressed by Paul Jackson's fluid bass playing. And then it's back to the main theme, featuring Maupin's sax soloing, before wrapping up proceedings.
A remake of "Watermelon Man" opens and closes with what Hancock refers to in the liner notes as "pygmy music," an idea of percussionist Bill Summers, featuring rhythmic souncs from reed-type instruments - a whole litany appears under Summers' name in the album's credits.
The other two songs on "Head Hunters," making up side two of the original LP, contrast one another. "Sly" - paying homage to one of Herbie's influences, Sly Stone - opens with an easygoing jam that melds into a frenzied percussive effort, with Maupin wailing away on soprano sax. After a short break, Hancock comes in with an extended display of Fender Rhodes virtuosity before the track returns briefly to its opening theme.
"Vein Melter" closes the album with a relaxed tempo throughout, with the mood enhanced by Hancock's work on the ARP synthesizers, evoking the aura of a string section.
Hancock and his band followed "Head Hunters" with the similar-in-concept "Thrust," another album that was well-received by critics and the record-buying public.
But fusion pretty much was reaching its peak at that time. By the late '70s, its often danceable rhythms had been supplanted by the mindless repetition of disco, and on the jazz side, a crew of newer musicians decided it would be best to stick with what worked back in the '50s. Even the top fusion practicioners eventually returned to a more traditional sound, Herbie Hancock (and Miles Davis) included.
That's a shame, but at least they left plenty of aural evidence from the late '60s and early '70s of the heights that could be reached by fusing jazz with rock.
The worlds of jazz and rock converged in the late 1960s as a musical form called fusion, its origins usually attributed to Miles Davis and his groundbreaking "In a Silent Way" and "Bitches Brew" albums.
Shortly afterward, Davis' sidemen became the vanguard for the new sound: Tony Williams with his band, Lifetime; Joe Zawinul and Wayne Shorter with Weather Report; John McLaughlin with the Mahavishnu Orchestra (by way of Lifetime); and Chick Corea with Return to Forever.
Another of Miles' collaborators, keyboardist Herbie Hancock, already had attained a large degree of popularity as a solo artist by the time jazz musicians started exploring fusion. He was in his very early 20s when Mongo Santamaria scored a hit with a version of Herbie's song "Watermelon Man," and he continued to draw fan support on his own and with Miles throughout the '60s.
His recordings for Blue Note during that period evolved progressively to straddle the thin line between straight jazz and rock, and he finally crossed with his three albums with Warner Brothers from 1969 through 1971. His band cooked up a funky stew full of electronic sounds that seemed to herald a new direction for popular music.
Those efforts came to fruition with "Head Hunters," his second recording for Columbia, which pushed it to the upper reaches of the charts and made it the all-time top-selling jazz album for a spell. Actually, classifying it as "jazz" is a little misleading; it sounds more like what R&B should have evolved into as musicians became more aware of the sonic possibilities of their instruments. (For another fine example of music in a similar vein, check out George Clinton/Parliament/Funkadelic/P-Funk/etc.)
The centerpiece of "Head Hunters" is the 15-minute opener, "Chameleon," which is carried by an infection bass line and a melody consisting of just a few very well-placed notes, courtesy of Herbie and reed player Bennie Maupin. Following an extended jam featuring a host of otherworldly sounds, the tune careens into a bridge that serves as a showcase for Herbie's Fender Rhodes electric piano, buttressed by Paul Jackson's fluid bass playing. And then it's back to the main theme, featuring Maupin's sax soloing, before wrapping up proceedings.
A remake of "Watermelon Man" opens and closes with what Hancock refers to in the liner notes as "pygmy music," an idea of percussionist Bill Summers, featuring rhythmic souncs from reed-type instruments - a whole litany appears under Summers' name in the album's credits.
The other two songs on "Head Hunters," making up side two of the original LP, contrast one another. "Sly" - paying homage to one of Herbie's influences, Sly Stone - opens with an easygoing jam that melds into a frenzied percussive effort, with Maupin wailing away on soprano sax. After a short break, Hancock comes in with an extended display of Fender Rhodes virtuosity before the track returns briefly to its opening theme.
"Vein Melter" closes the album with a relaxed tempo throughout, with the mood enhanced by Hancock's work on the ARP synthesizers, evoking the aura of a string section.
Hancock and his band followed "Head Hunters" with the similar-in-concept "Thrust," another album that was well-received by critics and the record-buying public.
But fusion pretty much was reaching its peak at that time. By the late '70s, its often danceable rhythms had been supplanted by the mindless repetition of disco, and on the jazz side, a crew of newer musicians decided it would be best to stick with what worked back in the '50s. Even the top fusion practicioners eventually returned to a more traditional sound, Herbie Hancock (and Miles Davis) included.
That's a shame, but at least they left plenty of aural evidence from the late '60s and early '70s of the heights that could be reached by fusing jazz with rock.
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