Notes on Time Capsule: The 1969 Playboy Magazine All-Star Band
A look at an interesting snapshot of musical taste in late 1968
My friend Paul Herbert, the guy behind the wonderful Reading Doonesbury blog, tweeted out something very interesting the other day: Playboy Magazine’s All-Star Band from Feb. 1969. To my understanding, it’s a poll voted on by Playboy readers ranking various musicians by instrument, not something drawn up by critics. As such, it’s a fascinating time capsule of listening habits in 1968, a look at what Playboy readers were listening to at the time and who was popular.
The band breaks down like this:
Alto sax: Cannonball Adderley, Paul Desmond
Tenor sax: Stan Getz, Boots Randolph
Baritone sax: Gerry Mulligan
Clarinet: Pete Fountain
Trombone: JJ Johnson, Si Zentner, Kai Winding, Bob Brookmeyer
Trumpet: Herb Alpert, Al Hirt, Miles Davis, Louis Armstrong
Bass: Charles Mingus
Guitar: Jimi Hendrix
Drums: Buddy Rich
Piano: Dave Brubeck
Vocals: Aretha Franklin, Frank Sinatra
With nods to The Beatles, Ravi Shankar and Harry Mancini, too.
As Hebert notes, it’s a pretty square list from what was probably a pretty square group of readers; one doesn’t imagine too many hippies reading Playboy, let alone adventurous jazz listeners. But it’s not trying to be definitive in the way Rolling Stone tries with it’s lists: it’s a poll, a snapshot of an era. And one that had arguably passed by the time this issue went to press.
I mean, jazz in 1968 was at a crossroads. On the one side, you had traditionalists like Dizzy Gillespie and Armstrong still recording, but at the end of their careers. On the other, boundary pushing artists like Chick Corea, Tony Williams and Pharoah Sanders were just launching their careers. Jazz clubs were closing, but the Fillmore hadn’t started booking jazz acts yet. John Coltrane had died, and at his funeral, musicians like Ornette Coleman and Albert Ayler played at his funeral as Gillespie allegedly told onlookers to not let people play like that at his funeral.
A few musicians were able to pick up on what was happening and move with the times. Cannonball’s music (with a helping hand from Joe Zawinul) veered towards soul-jazz, with bouncy rhythms and catchy melodies, while Miles Davis’s group pushed towards straight-ahead rhythms and rock-informed melodies on Miles in the Sky.
Let’s break down the lineup by instrument, shall we?
The trombone section is the one that’s dated the most. Of the four players listed, none are as familiar these days as Davis, Brubeck or even Buddy Rich are. But in their day, all were formidable players: Johnson was a mainstay of Columbia and RCA, where he recorded roughly an album a year between 1956 and 1966; Brookmeyer was a sometimes arranger who spent a lot of time in other people’s bands, making him an early example of a “musician’s musician.” Interestingly, of the four players listed, only Johnson had released a record in 1968. No real misses in this section, to be honest.
Meanwhile, the sax chairs show where popular taste was laying in 1968: Getz had just scored a crossover hit with “The Girl From Ipanema” a few years previous, while Desmond was a key part of Dave Brubeck’s band - which, coincidentally, had just broken up. Adderley was slowly taking strides towards his 70s soul-jazz with tracks like “Mercy Mercy Mercy,” while Boots Randolph had scored a hit with “Yakety Sax” a few years previous. As for Mulligan: well, what other baritone players were people in 1968 likely to think of?
Who’s missing from this picture? For one, there’s Ornette Coleman, who was wrapping up a storm at Atlantic records. There’s also players like Ayler and Sanders, carrying on the Coltrane legacy. A more conventional pick: Jackie McLean, who’d been pumping out records on Blue Note all decade. But perhaps the most glaring omission is Wayne Shorter, who had just released a string of records on Blue Note and was a key part of Miles Davis’ band.
The trumpet section is a similar snapshot of popularity: Armstrong had released “What A Wonderful World” in 1967 and scored a hit single in Europe, while Hirt (who you may remember from the Green Hornet theme) was popular enough to play at the first Super Bowl and Alpert had a chart-topping single with “This Guy’s In Love With You” in 1968. As for Miles: well, even though his new records weren’t lighting up the charts, he’d built a reputation with records like Sketches of Spain. Indeed, that LP would be namechecked by the Grateful Dead not long after.
Notably absent from this list: Lee Morgan, who’d been releasing a killer string of LPs on Blue Note (The Sidewinder, Cornbread, etc), Dizzy Gillespie (who was then working with a group including Chick Corea, Pepper Adams and Elvin Jones) and Freddie Hubbard.
The rhythm section here is especially interesting to me. Why? In 1968, Charles Mingus was in semi-retirement. His last record for Impulse came out in 1964 and his next studio LP wouldn’t be released until 1970. Buddy Rich, meanwhile, was working with a big band - check out 1968’s Mercy, Mercy for example - but wasn’t exactly genre-pushing. It’s interesting to me that Davis got a nod for trumpet, but none of his working band (Shorter, Herbie Hancock, Ron Carter, Tony Williams) made the cut, which instead leaned towards established figures.
Indeed, in 1968 there were more than a few handful of big names I’m surprised didn’t get mention: Carter, Reggie Workman, Cecil McBee, and Paul Chambers for the bass chair; Elvin Jones, Max Roach, Billy Higgins, Roy Haynes or even Ben Riley, who’d spent the previous few years working with Thelonious Monk.
Speaking of Monk, he’s another interesting absence here. I’m going by my gut here, but doesn’t Monk seem like the stereotypical jazz pianist? Like, he’s one of the few names that even non-jazz heads seem to have heard. And in 1968, he was enjoying some commercial success with Columbia - Underground even won a Grammy - and was surely the kind of thing hip, young men listened to. And instead it went to Brubeck? Not exactly a bad pick, but by this point, his group had broken up and Time Out was a good eight years in the rear view mirror. Maybe it reflects something of a “safe pick” or at least a familiar name. After all, it wasn’t like they were going to pick Cecil Taylor.
Meanwhile, there were more than a few young pianists waiting in the wings. For example, take Herbie Hancock, whose song “Watermelon Man” had been a top-10 hit a few years previous. Chick Corea released his solo debut Tones for Joan's Bones in 1968, although admittedly he wasn’t the draw he’d become with Return to Forever. And Keith Jarrett was making a name for himself as part of Charles Lloyd’s band; Forest Flower was one of the better selling jazz records of 1968.
For 1968, Hendrix on guitar seems like the only sane pick, although I suppose one could squabble a little: George Benson was kicking around, as was Grant Green. Maybe British readers were familiar with John McLaughlin, but he was still a couple of years away from breaking out as a bona-fide star. But really, who else were readers going to pick?
The interesting thing about the vocals is Franklin’s selection: in 1968, she was just starting her run on Atlantic and had scored a couple of hits, but she wasn’t exactly the star she’d later blossom into - she’d just come off a contract at Columbia that didn’t amount to anything much. And while looking back, it seems like the perfect choice, it’s interesting to note that in 1968 she had enough crossover appeal to crack the colour line. As for Sinatra, is anyone surprised?
Taking the whole group into account, while there are some glaring omissions and questionable choices, it remains a cool snapshot of where popular taste was in 1968: pop stars like Hendrix and the Beatles sit next to established figures like Armstrong and Sinatra; popular hitmakers like Hirt next to musical geniuses like Davis; establishment figures like Rich next to young, rising stars like Franklin. Within a few years, Playboy would segregate their polls into genres and you wouldn’t see a similar snapshot of taste, where everyone competed for a few precious spots; you wouldn’t see four trombone chairs, either. If only polls today tried something like this: I’d love to see who’d end up in the bass or saxophone chairs.