Horace-Scope is a a hard bop classic
In high school, I had one of those old school CD pockets that would wrap around a sun visor in my car, which was inherited from my mom’s car in the ‘90s. I didn’t have satellite radio, and a guy can only hear so much Aerosmith on the seemingly endless local rock stations before he goes crazy. So I made sure to load up that CD pocket with nearly every CD I owned, which was surprisingly a lot, as I had amassed a collection that had variety to it.
As a result, I would often have to switch some CDs out to give my library some variation. Songs About Jane, The Marshall Mathers LP, some Beatles and other CDs made their way into the rotation. My jazz albums always stayed where they were, but one jazz album in particular had a permanent home in the same upper-second-to-last-from-the-right pouch in that black CD pocket, and got a lot of rotation in the winter months.
Horace-Scope was the first full-length jazz album I ever bought, and it’s still one of my favorites to this day. It was my first introduction to Horace Silver, who I think is one of the most talented hard bop players to come from the genre, and what an introduction it was. The lineup consisted of a group of musicians I had never heard of before, but Horace Silver on piano, Blue Mitchell on trumpet, Junior Cook on tenor sax, Gene Taylor on bass and Roy Brooks on drums certainly left a lasting impression on me with the work that they did on this album.
This core quintet had worked on previous Horace Silver albums before this, which is why their chemistry is uncanny. This is a group that doesn’t just play with each other; they actually listen to what the other is doing, which is, in my opinion, one of the most crucial elements of playing good, wholesome jazz. They play with a hive-mind-like aspect that gives their sound a quality of togetherness on a level that’s hard to come by, even in a big band with a composer conducting with an authoritative presence.
Mitchell and Cook play in unison for the majority of the melodies with the exception of one providing a harmony for the other, so they’re not always just playing the same note. It keeps things simple while adding a layer of complexity to their sound to keep you interested, as if they needed help in that area. Listening to the breakneck tempos of “Where You At?” and “Horace Scope,” it’s a wonder they don’t pass out in the studio, let alone play in unison. Still, despite the multifaceted melodies, these two play with pitch-perfect and mirror-like qualities, making them almost indistinguishable from one another. It’s certainly impressive on the faster-paced songs on the album, and it makes the slower-paced songs sound truly polished on the ears.
These two are definite highlights on the album, but the other band members can’t be overlooked either. Taylor certainly knows how to keep a groove, and his mastery over the dynamic tempos on this album might be unnoticed to an untrained ear, but they’re not underappreciated. Brooks loves to wear out his ride cymbal on this album, which is characteristic of many bop drummers, but damn, could he smack and glide around his entire kit. Of all the solos he has on this album, his 42-second tour de force is a prime example of how the genre of hard bop had the best drummers in jazz bar none.
The best example of this group’s immaculate cohesion is on “Nica’s Dream,” which is one of my favorite jazz tunes of all time. One second it’s a Latin-tune, then, on a dime, it switches to swing. The melody is intricate to the point where it sounds like Mitchell and Cook are just improvising, but then the drums, piano, bass, trumpet and sax all come together carry a tune so perfect it almost sounds like a machine is playing every instrument; but then, of course, it wouldn’t be jazz.
It’s hard to say if this is my favorite jazz album of all time, but it’s probably one of the most sentimental. One time, while I was at my friend Billy’s house, we decided to go for a quick drive, but we could still see our breath in front of us, even as we were sitting in my car. My friend reached up for the music folder and for some reason chose this album to accompany our late-night adventure to the Mobil that was seven minutes away. This became a ritual of sorts, and Horace and the gang would keep us company as we drove through the abandoned streets of the suburbs in frigid temperatures to get some unhealthy hors d’oeuvres. Even though the temperature was below zero degrees every night we went out, I have some pretty warm memories associated with this album.
Spencer Lee is a junior majoring in narrative studies. His column, “Spencer’s Soapbox,” runs every Tuesday. He is also the chief copy editor of the Daily Trojan.