Alfred Lion was 16 when he first went to see the Sam Wooding Orchestra. This was Berlin in 1925; jazz was the new thing. Lion was smitten, but he couldn't have imagined that this night would shape his life, let alone the course of American music. Out of his infatuation would grow Blue Note, the most influential jazz label of the century and one which, like Atlantic and Tamla-Motown, would become a byword for a certain kind of music. In its prime, Blue Note was even more than that: the acme of hip style, the essence of cool.
Lion started journeying to New York in the 1930s, sleeping rough in Central Park in pursuit of his musical obsession. When Hitler came to power in 1933, he made the move permanent, and was followed, on the last boat out of Germany in 1939, by his lifelong friend Francis Wolff, son of a cultured Jewish family.
Blue Note's beginnings were modest but sure. The fledgling label attracted names such as boogie pianists Albert Ammons and Meade Lux Lewis and saxophonist Sidney Bechet, whose version of Summertime became an instant classic. But the real story started after the war, when Blue Note leapt from its swing roots to embrace the emergent be-bop movement and names such as Thelonious Monk and Bud Powell.
The mid-1950s to the late 1960s was Blue Note's - and some would say jazz's - golden age. Their roster remains breathtaking, almost a capsule history of modernism. Pianist Horace Silver, saxophonists Dexter Gordon and Sonny Rollins, and drummer and bandleader Art Blakey were among its first stars. A stream of monumental recordings poured forth, capturing American music's most diverse and creative period.
Blue Note's attraction for musicians was obvious. Lion and Wolff were, in the words of Horace Silver, "men of integrity and jazz fans". Neither quality was widespread in the music industry. The pair's approach was simple; they recorded what they liked. They signed artists other companies wouldn't touch, and stuck by them through poor sales. They also brought an uncommonly cultured approach to their business. They planned sessions meticulously, rehearsed extensively, and coaxed a unique sound from their recording engineer, Rudy Van Gelder.
Running Blue Note left the two Germans little time of their own. Many of the recording sessions took place at night, and by day there was endless administration. It was a high-burn lifestyle. "Alfred and Frank loved to hang out," said vibist Bobby Hutcherson. "They were more like jazz musicians than executives." Lion and Wolff sold the label to Liberty records in 1966, a decision enforced by Lion's heart condition. Perhaps, too, they sensed that jazz would never again be the force it had been. The rise of the "free" avant-garde, playing music few cared or dared to follow, the ascendancy of soul and rock, and the political turmoil of black America all expanded jazz's palette but diffused its cultural focus.
Lion retired to Mexico, after marrying his long-time girlfriend (and Blue Note publicist) Ruth Mason, who was concerned for his health. He gave up "the life", keeping in contact only via his friend Horace Silver. Wolff stayed on, trying to cope with the label's mounting problems, until his death in 1971.
Blue Note did not die with the departure of its founders; Donald Byrd's 1973 album Blackbyrd became its biggest ever seller. Increasingly, though, it relied on reissues - until 1984, when Blue Note was acquired by EMI and resurrected as an active force. Old names such as Dexter Gordon and McCoy Tyner returned. New ones, like vocalist Bobby McFerrin, arrived.
Lion's heart gave way in 1987, but not before he'd enjoyed a standing ovation at 1985's celebratory Blue Note concert at New York's Town Hall, and seen his life's work justly hailed.
Shortly afterwards came the jazz resurgence of the late 1980s and early 1990s. The Blue Note era became an object of romantic nostalgia, a mood captured in Bertrand Tavernier's Round Midnight. In London, clubland DJs like Gilles Peterson and Paul Murphy were helping a new generation discover Blue Note jazz as dance music.
The funky Afro-Cuban experiments of guitarist Grant Green and pianist Horace Parlan, considered throwaways by jazz buffs, now became floor-fillers. In the 1990s the Blue Note flame has continued to burn, with arrivals such as sax player Greg Osby, the trio of Medeski Martin and Wood, and singers like Dianne Reeves and Cassandra Wilson. Wilson, in particular, has emerged as a singer for the new century, daringly mixing blues, rock and jazz. Alfred Lion, who in old age developed a passion for Prince, would have dug her. - (Guardian Service) 99115588
The Blue Note sound will be reproduced tomorrow night when the Blue Note Sextet perform in JJ Smyths in Aungier Street, Dublin. The sextet will draw from the abundant Blue Note catalogue, with arrangements performed by Justin Carroll (piano), Michael Coady (bass), Karl Ronan (trombone), Mark Bradley (trumpet), Gerry Godley (tenor sax) and Conor Guilfoyle (drums). Doors open 8.30 p.m. and tickets cost £5/£4.