The Life And Times Of One Of Jazz's Greatest Sax Symbols. By Dave McElfresh WHETHER YOU LIKE jazz or not, some of its musicians play so righteously, with such intensity and intelligence that even listeners whose tastes run no deeper than Mariah Carey have to admit, yeah, there's something pretty hardcore going on. The late Dexter Gordon, recently honored by a fine six-CD box set on Blue Note, was one of those unquestionable giants of the genre. Those who saw the 1987 movie 'Round Midnight got to see the lanky tenor man basically play himself--a witty, snail-paced figure who spoke a slang-heavy language all his own. Not surprisingly, all of the characteristics were also typical of his hero, Lester Young--one of the sources of inspiration for the main character in 'Round Midnight--though the real-life Gordon was undoubtedly drawn to him more by similar temperament than a need to imitate. So colorful and endearing was his portrayal that the jazzman was nominated for an Academy Award, not for playing a role really, but for bringing to the film the same character he was off camera. But the film's real clincher was Gordon's strong-yet-loose playing style, convincing even the lame Grammy committee to hand the soundtrack three awards. Not bad for a player whose life was full of strikes against him ever becoming a true American jazz legend. If ever there was proof of Darwin's theory of natural selection, Gordon was it: Blessed with all the goods, the jazzman couldn't go wrong--even when he did. Gordon definitely started off on the right foot, though, born the son of an L.A. physician who treated Duke Ellington and Lionel Hampton. And amazingly, following the death of his father, his mother entirely supported his dropping high school to pursue a career with vibraphonist Hampton's band. The ensuing years were good, with the saxman putting in time with a number of prominent figures, including Louis Armstrong and bebop god Charlier Parker. Then came a change of luck. He was busted for possession of heroin in 1952, landing two years in a California state prison. He repeated the offense in 1956, and parole requirements kept him in the land of sunshine until 1960. While some might have found the climate and Los Angeles the best of all worlds, being chained to California was the worst that could happen for Dexter Gordon. In the late '50s and first half of the '60s, two very distinct jazz styles were being developed on both sides of the country. West Coast jazzmen like Gerry Mulligan and Chet Baker were ironing out the wrinkles in an approach to jazz that dabbled in elements of classical music and employed a lightweight intellectuality. Cool jazz, as it was called, was smart stuff but quite accessible to music fans who knew little about jazz. It very much sounded like California music. Gordon, however, did not. Having honed his chops with Charlie Parker, whose improvising style resembled the monologues of a genius on speed, there wasn't much about Gordon's strong, New York style that anyone could label lightweight. Imagine Lou Reed coming out of prison in California and finding himself surrounded by only surf bands to play with. Three thousand miles away, his previous associates were developing hard bop, primarily on the Blue Note label. It was a far more ominous and masculine style than cool jazz, and incorporated more black elements. Funk grew out of hard bop, and soul music was an important ingredient in hard bop long before it became the genre the Motown and Stax labels were to make it. Hard bop was heavy music, difficult to resign to the background. In fact, listening, in one sitting, to all six discs that comprise this set would be a torturous form of overstimulation. Gordon returned to New York ready to cut some hardcore sides, which came when he signed on with Blue Note in 1960. For a label whose brooding portraits of the artists (courtesy of Frank Wolff) set them up as the badasses of the jazz world, Gordon remained an outsider to the attitude that much better fit cocky labelmates like trumpeter Lee Morgan and the early Miles Davis. Gordon's height was somewhere in the neighborhood of 6-feet-6, and his feet, which appeared to be nearly as long, seldom kept rhythm as well as his ankles intended, driving his bandmates crazy. He was also slow in his speech. In the booklet for The Complete Blue Note Sixties Sessions, producer Michael Cuscuna relates how he once asked Gordon a question when their cab was at 50th Street in Manhattan and finally received an answer 14 blocks later. His unhurriedness was a tendency that would increase in his improvising over the course of his life. His behind-the-beat style created a paradoxical tension, leaving listeners leaning into the speakers, wondering if he was too relaxed to reach the end of the verse before the next one started. On The Complete Blue Note Sixties Sessions one can hear Gordon slowly take his foot off the gas: The saxophonist on the 1961 cuts that became the Doin' Allright album sounded much stiffer than Gordon only a year later on the Go and A Swingin' Affair sessions, recorded two days apart. The latter two are Gordon at his most dexterous, playing the kind of inventive, moody jazz that elevates the genre to the status of art. Unfortunately, jazz has never been considered a national treasure stateside, and has always been far more appreciated in Europe. The same went for Gordon himself, who toured Europe the same year as the Go and A Swingin' Affair were released, and found adoring audiences everywhere. The saxophonist moved to Copenhagen, where he finished out his remaining three years with the Blue Note label. Gordon stayed for almost 15 years, touring Europe, playing festivals, lecturing and teaching courses--all opportunities rarely available to jazz musicians remaining stateside. The saxophonist had written off the States much as the States had written off him. But, atypically for a country that shows only minimal appreciation for its jazz players, absence made the heart grow fonder: Four American dates over the course of the next decade received polite attention, but Gordon's 1976-'77 visit brought such an overwhelming response he returned permanently to numerous club dates in New York, a recording contract with Columbia Records, the leading role in 'Round Midnight and a follow-up part in Robin Williams' Awakenings (where the tortoise jazzman berated the hare comedian for overacting). He was voted Downbeat Musician of the Year in 1976, an award he won again in 1980, the same year he was elected to the Jazz Hall of Fame. It was an astounding resurrection that more resembled a corny TV movie plot than real life. The acclaim finally given Gordon was primarily the result of the music found in this collection of all his Blue Note material, where the listener can hear the saxophonist's development into one of the major tenor players in jazz history. Dexter Gordon left this life in 1990, full of plans that probably would have continued to turn up aces. "Very Saxily Yours," he used to sign his letters--a farewell that perfectly defines this essential collection.

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