In many articles marking the centennial of Charles Mingus, the bassist and composer is referred to as “the angry man of jazz.” While that’s an easy hook, it does a great disservice to the scope and character of his work. Anger was certainly part of his music, but so was joy, humor, tenderness and sadness. Perhaps more than any other major jazz artist, Mingus captured the full range of human emotion. He transformed his personal tangle of human desires, hopes, struggles, strengths and weaknesses into remarkable music.
Mingus recorded prolifically, especially during his prime period of 1956-1964. There are some 50 albums in his discography as a bandleader and nearly all of them are worth hearing. Here are my choices for his ten best.
Black Saint and the Sinner Lady (Impulse, 1963)
Charles Mingus’s magnum opus is a musical exploration of his tortured psyche. The liner notes were famously written by his psychiatrist. It’s a dark, brooding, intensely personal work with strong Ellington influences, especially Jerome Richardson’s baritone sax and Ellington alumni Quentin “Butter” Jackson’s plunger mute trombone. Yet, it’s also a work that delves into sounds, moods and themes that reach far beyond the world of Ellington. This landmark of 1960s avant-garde jazz is a difficult work to absorb and not the best place to start a Mingus journey. Listen to the other nine records first, then check this one out.
Mingus Ah Um (Columbia, 1959)
This is one of the landmark jazz albums in a year filled with remarkable jazz albums. It kicks off with the 6/8 gospel romp “Better Get It in Your Soul,” continues with an elegy to the great saxophonist Lester Young, “Goodbye Pork Pie Hat” and includes the bassist’s mocking protest against segregationist Arkansas governor Orville Faubus, “Fables of Faubus.” In between are nods to jazz pioneers Jelly Roll Morton and Duke Ellington. Taken as a whole, the album captures the broadest range of emotional expression of any Mingus album. It also captures jazz's past and present, circa 1959, and foreshadows the music's future, all seen through Mingus's magical, musical kaleidoscope. Mingus Ah Um not only the perfect introduction to Mingus’s music, but also a great first album for jazz novices. Bassist Mingus and loyal drummer Dannie Richmond provide the foundation for some brilliant solos by saxophonists Booker Ervin and John Handy; trombonist Jimmy Knepper; and pianist Horace Parlan.
Blues and Roots (Atlantic, 1959)
Mingus’s compositions were always evolving. Recorded four months before Mingus Ah Um, Blues and Roots features a few early versions of numbers heard on the later album, (although Mingus Ah Um was released first). Blues and Roots is rougher and looser with the deep, rich baritone of baritone saxophonist Pepper Adams giving the performances a hearty, guttural bottom. Like on so many of his records, Mingus bends, twists and distorts jazz traditions to create challenging modern music that’s also lively and fun.
Let My Children Hear Music (Columbia, 1972)
After a nearly ten-year run of creating some of the most exciting and adventurous music in jazz history, Mingus faced a series of mental, financial, health and marital problems and retreated from the scene during the second half of the 1960s. He re-emerged in 1972 with this large ensemble album of compositions he’d been toying with over the years, one going as far back as 1939. Mostly arranged by Sy Johnson, the album makes a strong case for Mingus as one of America’s greatest composers. And even with a large array of musicians playing charts, the performances still maintain the wild unpredictability of Mingus’s finest records.
Pithecanthropus Erectus (Atlantic, 1956)
After establishing himself as one of the greatest bassists in jazz, Pithecanthropus Erectus gave notice that he was also a brilliant bandleader and composer. The title track is a four-movement tone poem depicting man's rise and fall. “Love Chant” is a moody work that explodes into a jamming routine based on the changes to “Perdido.” Alto saxophonist Jackie McLean and pianist Mal Waldron rise to Mingus’s challenges and reveal their own musical identities within the context of the bassist’s unconventional, ambitious compositions.
Oh Yeah (Atlantic, 1961)
Charles Mingus kicks off his wildest album with the honking, raucous, cacophonous “Hog Callin’ Blues” and the record takes many crazy twists and turns from there. Mingus puts down his bass and leads the band from the piano, pounding on the keys and singing and shouting with abandon. The album is especially notable for the explosive chemistry Mingus has with the fiercely intense saxophonist Rahsaan Roland Kirk. He fit so well within the structured chaos of Mingus’s music that it’s a great disappointment he was only in the band for a few months. The highlight is “Ecclusiastics,” which begins as a mournful hymn before Kirk’s one-man sax section whips the performance into an ecstatic frenzy.
Changes One and Two (Atlantic, 1974)
These albums were released separately but come from the same December 1974 session and work as a whole. These were Mingus’s last great studio albums before ALS incapacitated him and eventually killed him. Even though the compositions have a few dark, political titles, the music is rather jaunty. Passionate and original solos from saxophonist George Adams and pianist Don Pullen fly off into the land of the free. Both volumes feature Mingus’s elegy to Duke Ellington, one an instrumental and the other featuring vocals by Jackie Paris. These are among the few 1970s Mingus albums ranking with the classics from his prime period.
Cornell 1964 (Blue Note, 1964)
Before Mingus’s implosion and retreat, he had a triumphal, if tumultuous, tour of Europe. This live concert took place a few weeks before the tour commenced and was forgotten until his widow Sue found tapes of the performance and released them in 2007. It’s one of his greatest bands with his long-time friend Eric Dolphy on alto sax, flute and clarinet; and Jaki Byard on piano, who, like Mingus, had his own twisted take on jazz traditions. Mingus was energized by his band’s rowdy irreverence and the concert captures the bassist and composer at his most joyous. Unfortunately, the band fell apart in Europe, with Dolphy giving his notice and dying unexpectedly several weeks later. But that was all in the future.
Tijuana Moods (RCA Victor 1957)
In 1957 Mingus and drummer Dannie Richmond spent a “Lost Weekend” of debauchery in Tijuana. Inspired by the sights and sounds of the experience, Mingus created a blazing, passionate album featuring Mexican influences, most notably the flamenco-driven rhythms of “Ysabel’s Table Dance.” The album was shelved and not released for five years. The performances were sloppily edited, but later releases eliminated the bad edits and restored missing segments and are preferable to the original version of the album.
The Clown (Atlantic, 1956)
This is Mingus’s second masterpiece after Pithecanthropus Erectus. Kicking off with the intense “Haitian Folk Song,” the album continues with musical portraits of his then-wife Cecilia, the recently passed Charlie Parker and culminating in the title track, featuring Jean Shepherd (of A Christmas Story fame) freely improvising a narration about a misunderstood clown. The album’s themes of racial prejudice, love and personal struggles run through Mingus’s oeuvre, all twisted through his blues, swing, gospel and bop influences.
If this were a top 12 list, I’d also include another pair of Mingus classics: Mingus Dynasty (Columbia, 1959) and Mingus, Mingus, Mingus, Mingus (Impulse, 1963). Also worth checking out are Mingus at Antibes (Atlantic, 1960), Pre-Bird (Mercury, 1960), Cumbia and Jazz Fusion (Atlantic, 1977) and an overlooked pair of albums from his early prime period, A Modern Jazz Symposium of Music and Poetry (Bethlehem, 1957) and East Coasting (Bethlehem, 1957).