b o b

By sheer coincidence, a couple days before I saw this album had been added to Ground and Sky's stockpile of reviews, I bought the first new CD I've picked up in a long while, Hancock's Empyrean Isles. That prompted me to pull out the few other Herbie Hancock CDs I own, and I ended up listening to Empyrean, Head Hunters and Future Shock back to back. Even given that those three albums were released in three different decades (1964, 1973 and 1983 respectively), it's hard to believe that they all come from the same artist. The first is fairly "traditional" jazz, and the last is ultra-commercial 80s music, more robotic sounding funk and rock than jazz. Head Hunters falls somewhere in between: it's commercial sounding and very funky, but also sounds a lot more like jazz fusion than Future Shock does. The heavy use of percussion adds a lot to the album. I particularly like the rhythm set up at the beginning of "Watermelon Man" that's created by wordless vocalizations and blowing across the mouth of a beer bottle. The rhythm section almost steals the show on this disc — it's a keyboardist's album, but half the time I find myself listening more to the bass, drums and percussion. One surprising thing about this album is that there's no guitar on it. When I read that in the liner notes, I thought "Wait a minute, I remember hearing guitar." But on giving it another listen, some of what I thought was lead guitar is probably bass, and some of the rhythm guitar is probably clavinet. For those who find atmospheric jazz fusion like Weather Report's early albums to be too new agey, and are looking for something with more of a driving, even danceable beat, give this album a try. Those who don't like heavy elements of funk in their jazz should steer clear. review by Bob Eichler — 7-8-05 —

j o e

If you are ever asked "What is the jazz-funk crossover album of the 70s?" and it takes you more than 5 seconds to come up with a response of "Head Hunters," then dammit I don't even wanna know ya. After the brilliant Sextant, the ex-Miles Davis Quintet jazz pianist decided his music had to go in a new direction. But where? While meditating one fateful day, his mind's eye locked onto its new coordinates: the brand of soul-rock music popularized by Sly Stone. Retaining woodwind player Bennie Maupin, Hancock formed an entirely new band to pursue this vision. Contributing to the new direction, he retained the prominent role of the Fender Rhodes electric piano, but benched the mellotron and spacey sequencers of Sextant in favor of the funky clavinet and more refined, less experimental string tones of the ARP synthesizer. Of course the opener, "Chameleon," is practically synonymous with this album as a whole. With a bass riff (da-da-da-da-BOP-BAP...da-da-da-da-BOP-BAP) that is probably among the very first things that electric bassists looking to expand their horizons beyond rock learn how to play (the jazz/funk equivalent to what Zappa was singing about in "Joe's Garage," if you will), "Chameleon" is one tune that really needs no introduction. I know that when I was a pianist in the rhythm section of my high school big band jazz ensemble, in between breaks from learning such golden oldies as "Savoy Stomp," "Groovin' Hard" and "In the Mood" (blecch! sorry, Glenn) our release and salvation was jamming to this one. It was easy enough to play, plus it drove our instructor crazy, which might be more than anything why I recall the tune so fondly. Listening to it now, I think what is overlooked is how well the piece develops and shifts gears into a usually forgotten, faster-paced 'B' section with Hancock's graceful Fender Rhodes movements like Fred Astaire, with delicate ARP strings to light the dance floor. One of the classics, to be sure. The band then delivers a quirky recreation of Hancock's early 1960s boogie hit "Watermelon Man." As an aside, despite frequent cries of "Sellllll Out!!" on the part of his critics, Hancock maintains that the original "Watermelon Man" represents the only time in his career that he ever consciously endeavored to write a hit song. The 70s version appearing on this album was suggested and arranged by drummer Harvey Mason. It is dominated by a beer bottle-blowing rhythm that lends it a tribal, African character. With this reworking's interesting rhythmic arrangement, funky punctuations, and camouflaging of the original melody, it ends up with barely a passing resemblance to the original, demonstrating this new band's ingenuity and willingness to tackle new ideas. The second side of the album opens with "Sly," Hancock's tribute to the main source of inspiration for this album. Its form is patterned similarly to "Chameleon," with an opening exposition of the main melody, then a faster paced 'B' section where Hancock lets fly another blistering Rhodes soloing, and then a restatement. "Vein Melter," despite its evocative and disturbing title, is actually the most laid back and nondescript piece on the album. Not bad, but I find it a bit anticlimactic relative to the material that precedes it. As Hancock intended it, the music is more conventional and an attempt to get back to something more down to earth that the masses could embrace, but it is still vivacious and often stunning. Though I'd have to rate it as a rung lower than the untamable, astral splendor of Sextant, Head Hunters remains some essential listening. review by Joe McGlinchey — 12-22-05 —

m a t t

With Mwandishi, Crossings and Sextant, Herbie Hancock spent the early part of the 1970s making revolutionary music. He didn't sell a lot of albums in the process, though, and it was his ambition to reach a wider audience that led him to conceive of going in a dance-funk direction. So he got a different band (retaining reeds-man Bennie Maupin from the previous roster) and the first product of this new approach was the legendary Head Hunters, the biggest selling album of Hancock's long career. The music is simpler and groovier; lighter in weight, though still of substance. Hancock goes for a funk sound, but it's not entirely the funk of the urban landscape — he wanted an "African" vibe to the music and thus Hancock recruited ethnic percussionist Bill Summers, who spices up the album with his arsenal of African percussion. "Chameleon" is the most popular track on the album and your reaction to it will probably determine whether or not the album is for you. A simple beat and a popping bass riff kick things off and are maintained throughout the first half of the tune, adorned by the horn theme and keyboard solos. Then the bass is freed, the beat changes slightly and the tune adopts a looseness more typical of 1970s fusion before the horns bring the main theme back and the original beat is re-established. Very well done. "Watermelon Man" is a drastic re-working of the classic from Hancock's 1962 Blue Note debut album. It's probably not going to be anybody's definitive version of the tune, but it is interesting and Hancock should be given credit for having enough guts to warp his signature jazz theme on what he hoped would be his commercial breakthrough. Following this is the ten-minute "Sly," my favorite track on the album. It's the record's most musically adventurous piece and is one of the most successful integrations of jazz and hard funk that I've heard. "Vein Melter" is disappointingly subdued given the intense implications of the title, but it winds the album down well enough and revels in a mid-'70s loungey fusion vibe so dated that it's almost cool. review by Matt P. — 6-28-05 —