Oliver Nelson Almost Gets Funky

There’re two sides to any endeavor: good and bad, artistic and business. One isn’t better than the other. Nor can one exist without the other. And for that very reason some of the best music is crafted for the wrong reasons. By contrast, though, some horrible tripe is recorded simply by virtue of experimentation being the flavor of the day.

Oliver Nelson is a little bit of all of those things, which makes assessing his career, what he decided to do with it and the resulting body of work a bit more than difficult to figure at this point.

Nelson’s journey through the forty some odd years of his life are rife with artistic success as well as questionable business ideas. He was always in demand for something, though. So, regardless of what one actually thinks of his catalog, Nelson worked and did as he pleased.

His early 1961 date, Blues and the Abstract Truth, which included a young Eric Dolphy amidst a line up of well known players comprises the majority of Nelson’s legacy. It wasn’t the only notable date that the saxophone player would go in on as a leader – or a sideman, for that matter – but it would become his most enduring.

That being said, Nelson’s work for television, in the form of writing music for shows like Columbo and the Bionic Woman, surely netted the arranger some cash money. But even while he was engaged in such work, Nelson retained respect in the jazz world for charting albums for big name players.

In the last year of his life, 1975, Nelson would lead a date, though, that sought to incorporate his big band tendencies with funk stuff that was popular at the time. Skull Sessions admittedly looks funkier than it is. And while the majority of the disc came off as a late entry in the big band thing, it was all intended to reach the same market that Cannonball Adderley found with his own Experience in E.

Regardless, what Nelson was able to coax out of his line up that included percussionist Willie Bobo, drummer Shelley Manne, Lee Ritenour on guitar and Lonnie Liston Smith on keys had its moments of grandeur. Unfortunately, most of those sparks were all contained in Skull Session’s lead off, title track.

“Skull Session” is the oddity here. Whereas the rest of the disc sounds like it might fit in a detective movie made during the ‘50s, the first track here is unquestionably of a specific time and place – the ‘70s. With its analog keyboard, slow and funky drumming and occasionally interspersed wah-wah guitar, the song’s all sultry grit. And in noting the rest of the disc and its relation to noir stuffs, this first song might have just been an update for blaxploitation title music.

It’s actually a bit surprising to wade through the remainder of the disc after its first offering. And to say that it’s a let down would be an understatement – but that’s how it goes.