A Primer On Scorpio And Rhino Vinyl Reissues

NB: This post was extensively edited in 06-2023 after a long conversation with mastering engineer David Cheppa, who cut nearly all of the Rhino and Scorpio reissues.

About 15 years ago, when I first started to get serious about collecting jazz, I discovered that there were a bunch of reissues of classic jazz albums that had no information about when or by whom they had been released. The distinguishing thing about these reissues was that they were extremely good replicas of the original albums; they used what appeared to be the same labels and jackets as the original releases, and the jackets had no bar codes, which was strange for albums made after the 80s. The kicker was that these LPs sold for about $15 each. Brand new Blue Note reissues for $15? Sign me up. 

I bought a few titles -- Hank Mobley, Lee Morgan, Cliff Jordan -- to see how they sounded. Everything about them looked great. The artwork and labels were very nicely done. The vinyl was 140-gram weight, clean and flat. How do they sound? Not great, but not bad. Although I had no original Blue Notes to compare them to.

Above are the front covers and Side 1 label for Hank Mobley's A Caddy For Daddy, originally released by Blue Note in 1966. The original release is on the left. On the right is the reissue from 2005. The biggest difference apart from the sound quality, (at least I assume) is about $335. A NM copy of the original sold a couple of years ago for $350. A new copy of the reissue will set you back about $15.

As I searched for more information about these new versions, I soon found out that they are referred to as "Scorpio" reissues. The consensus of most online audio forums is that they aren't bad, but are likely not sourced from master tapes, and some people have complained about quality control issues. However, a fair number of people say they are satisfied with the sound quality and happy with the price.  

So what is Scorpio? A Google search doesn't turn up much. They have a web site for selling music (scorpiomusic.co), but there is nothing about the company except for their telephone number and an address in Trenton, NJ. Discogs simply says that they are "A company which appears to deal in 'official reproductions' or 'limited editions' of past works. Licenses gained via the labels or 'rights-holders'. Often issued by Rhino Records."  

From what I was able to find, Scorpio was originally a music distributor that specialized in wholesaling cutout records to dealers. They would buy up hundreds of thousands of cutouts from record companies for pennies on the dollar, and resell them to record shops in bulk. Billboard magazine, the music industry trade journal, regularly carried ads by Scorpio promoting their cutouts "With prices starting at just 50 cents." They invite dealers to call them for more information.

But how did they go from reselling cutouts to repressing/distributing classic jazz albums? Interestingly, the Princeton Record Exchange in Princeton, NJ, one of the country's oldest and largest record stores (and perhaps not coincidentally located about 15 miles up the road from Scorpio headquarters in Trenton) has this odd homage on their web site: "Scorpio Music Distributors has been wholesaling music since 1969, and for the last 16 years has grown to become the largest reissuer and distributor of Vinyl LP's. If you are in the business of selling vinyl and do not buy from them, you are missing out on profits and in these times in our industry that is not something to miss."

If Scorpio has been in the reissue business for 16 years (depending on the date of the information on the Princeton web site), that would mean they started reissuing vinyl sometime in the late 1990s. But it's still difficult to track down which albums they have reissued, because there is no indication anywhere on the jackets or labels that Scorpio is the manufacturer. Could there be some other way to tell which albums Scorpio reissued?

I'm glad you asked. It turns out that of my 100+ Scorpio reissues (and dozens more that I looked at on Discogs) almost all were mastered by David Cheppa at Better Quality Sound in North Hills, CA, and pressed by Rainbo Records, just up the road in Santa Monica (Rainbo moved to Canoga Park, CA in 2006). With that information in hand, I did a search on Discogs for releases cut by David Cheppa and pressed by Rainbo Records. Rainbo (which closed in 2020) was one of the largest record manufacturer in the U.S. Discogs lists some 30,000 Rainbo pressings in their database. 

One of the first Scorpio reissues

After looking at the albums in my collection and scrolling through hundreds of albums on Discogs, I noticed that nearly all the reissues that appeared to be Scorpios had a "3972" prefix in the runout. Coincidence?  I think not.  But to be certain, I reached out to mastering engineer David Cheppa in an email.  He kindly called me back, and we talked for about 45 minutes. [Cheppa is an extremely nice guy, generous with his time, and had a million stories about the record business.] 

Cheppa told me that the prefix was a client account number that Rainbo Records assigned to the manufacturer in order to identify the client for billing. 3972 was the account number that Rainbo assigned to Scorpio.  Cheppa told me he etched the prefix into hundreds of sides. I told Cheppa that a lot of people thought that Scorpio was just a distributor, but he said that was not correct, that Scorpio started doing their own reissues in the late 1990s.

Knowing that 3972 was Scorpio's account number made things much easier.  A search for "3972" and "Rainbo" on Discogs returns 241 hits. Based on that list, the earliest Scorpio release appears to be a 1998 reissue of Ray Ayer's 1973 soundtrack Coffy, originally on the Polydor Label (above).

There are a couple of more Scorpio reissues in 1999, and then more than 200 during the course of the 2000s. (However, the total list of Scorpio reissues is likely two or three times that number, since a great many listings on Discogs don't identify the pressing plant or include runout information.) Among the labels reissued by Scorpio are Blue Note, Buddah, Muse, RCA, ABC, Cobblestone, Vee Jay, Inner City, and New Jazz. However, it's the Blue Notes that are the most conspicuous, and the ones that most people are interested in.

By rough count, Scorpio reissued close to 100 Blue Note albums over the years, beginning in approximately 2002. Many of them are rare titles that are hard to find,  even as reissues, and even harder to afford, if you're looking for original Blue Note pressings.

By this point, you may be wondering about Rhino and how they figure into the equation. What's the Rhino-Scorpio connection? While Scorpio appears to have begun its reissue program in 1998, Rhino Records had been in the reissue business as far back as the mid 1980s. According to Discogs: "Rhino Records started as a record store in 1973 in Westwood California, U.S.A. They released their first recording in 1975, "Go To Rhino Records" by Wild Man Fischer, which was a small success. Early on Rhino featured mostly novelty, surf, local new wave bands, and a couple of reissues of out-of-print records from other labels. By the mid-1980s, the label was releasing a lot of reissues. In 1985 the label made a distribution deal with Capitol Records, which lasted until 1992. As part of the deal, they had access to the Capitol back catalog, and they started releasing reissues of the old Capitol albums . . . In 1992, when the deal with Capitol was ending, Rhino got an offer from Time-Warner. By entering this deal, half of the label was sold to Time-Warner, and WEA became the new distributor of the (Rhino) label. Warner put Rhino in charge of reissuing the Atlantic back catalog. In 1998, Time-Warner bought the remaining 50% of the label."

So, in the mid 1990s, Rhino begain reissuing selections from the back catalog of Atlantic Records. By the late 90s, Rhino had branched out to include reissues by other labels owned by Warner/WEA.  In 1998 -- the year that Scorpio began its reissue program -- Rhino reached a deal to make Scorpio Music the exclusive distributors of Rhino releases.  Coincidentally, 1998 was also the year that Rhino began to use Rainbow Records to press its reissues.

The 1998 Rhino reissue of The Meters album Look-Ka Py Py, which originally appeared on the Josie label, is the first evidence I can find of a little white sticker (above) that appears on many Rhino reissues (but not on Scorpio reissues!), indicating that Rhino is the manufacturer and Scorpio is the distributor. I couldn't find any information about how Rhino and Scorpio hooked up, but since Scorpio was/is one of the biggest vinyl distributors in the country, and was also selling a range of popularly-priced, mostly jazz reissues, it seems to make sense.

At first glance, Rhino and Scorpio reissues are nearly impossible to tell apart. They are mostly mastered at the same studio (David Cheppa's Better Quality Sound), pressed by the same mastering plant (Rainbo Records), and use identical white cardboard jacket stock and the same white paper dust sleeves (presumably supplied by Rainbo). The releases look and feel nearly identical. But it's fairly easy to tell them apart if you know what to look for.

First, if the release is on a label owned by Warner/WEA, then it's a Rhino release. If the label isn't in the Warner's stable -- like Blue Note or Prestige -- then it's a Scorpio. And more definitively, the etched runout prefix is a dead giveaway. As I mentioned earlier, Scorpio's client account number at Rainbo Records was 3972.  By 1999, Rhino had its own Rainbo client account number: 5032, as confirmed to me by David Cheppa.

So, the mystery is mostly solved. Rhino and Scorpio both had reissue programs, with Scorpio being the distributor for both. Scorpio, however, reissued music from lots of different labels, including -- most importantly -- Blue Note, which led to speculation that Scorpio reissues might be bootlegs or unofficial releases. David Cheppa assured me that is not the case. He told me that Scorpio paid for the rights to all its releases. Which makes sense, because otherwise, they would've been sued into oblivion by now. [I have seen some reports that Scorpio was sued by the estate of Sun Ra for alleged unauthorized releases, but have not been able to find any information about the validity of the charges or the outcome of the suit. However, I would note that a number of Sun Ra albums are still available on the Scorpio order site.]

What about the sound quality of these Rhino and Scorpio reissues? It's worth emphasizing that since Rhino reissues are all on labels owned by its parent company, it's fair to assume that they have access to the best available original source.  [Of course, that doesn't mean that they always work from the original master tapes.]  Scorpio, on the other hand, is dependent on the rights holder to provide the source material. Cheppa told me that quite often the source he worked with was not the original master but a later generation copy. He said that while he was occasionally tempted to use some EQ or decompression to improve the sound, Scorpio didn't want (or perhaps wasn't authorized by the rights holder) to do any remixing, so he simply made the best cut possible with the source he was given.

Brand new Rhino and Scorpio reissues are widely available for $15-20.  As long as you are aware of what you are buying, I think these reissues are a very good deal. As I mentioned above, unless you have $350 to shell out for a nice original Blue Note pressing of A Caddy For Daddy, then a $20 Scorpio copy is a reasonable substitute. 

The problem, of course, is that a lot of buyers don't know what they're getting. Serious Blue Note collectors can spot a reissue or a later pressing a mile away. But people who don't know any better might think that Scorpio reissues are original Blue Note pressings. The jackets are often nearly identical, and there is no indication anywhere on the jacket that Scorpio is the manufacturer.  How is a novice collector supposed to know that what looks like a mint original Blue Note is actually a budget reissue?

I see evidence of this problem on Discogs, where many Scorpio Blue Notes are going for $30 or more.  Since you can often still find them new for $15, that's not a very good deal. And it tells me that either the dealers aren't aware that they are reissues (doubtful), or they are hoping that inexperienced buyers won't know the difference (likely).  Unfortunately, the information on Discogs's release pages often doesn't mention if a reissue is a Scorpio version.

But fear not, if you know what to look for, it's relatively easy to tell Rhino and Scorpio reissues from other versions. To begin with, Rhino reissues often have the little white sticker on the back (above) that identifies them.  They also often will have a gold/black hype sticker on the front like the one in the photo at left.  And of course, the labels are all owned by Warners/WEA. 

 

Scorpios can be more difficult to identify since their involvement is not mentioned anywhere on their reissues, and they do not use any hype stickers.  In addition, Scorpio reissued titles from many labels.  However, if you find a new Blue Note or Prestige or New Jazz title in the shrink with the original album art and no bar code that costs about $20, you can be pretty confident that it's a Scorpio.  And in the case of Scorpio's Blue Note reissues, all of them list the address on the back of the jacket as 304 Park Ave. South, New York, NY 10010 (below). Blue Note was indeed at that address briefly, but this address never appeared on any original Blue Note releases. The same address (shortened to 304 Park Ave. S, NYC) also appears on the Scorpio Blue Note labels. (See the label photo at top.)

 

 

If the album you're looking at is used, or if you can find out the runout information, it's usually easy to tell if it's a Rhino or Scorpio reissue. In nearly all cases, the etched runout will show either the Scorpio client prefix 3972, or the Rhino client prefix 5032. 

   

 

Both will also have a Rainbo Records catalog number, which is in the format of S-XXXXX (above). [The S sometimes looks like a 5]. In addition, nearly all Rhino and Scorpio reissues have mastering engineer David Cheppa's scrawled signature, which is nominally "DC BQS" (David Cheppa, Better Quality Sound). However, Cheppa's signature is often completely illegible. Sometimes it looks like De RES, or Do BC, or just Dc or De, or maybe just a random scrawl. Cheppa told me he has mastered more than 100K sides (including singles), so at a certain point, he seems to have decided that penmanship wasn't all that important. Here are some examples of Cheppa's signature, all of which are actually DC BQS:

 

 

Finally, you can check the the size of the pressing ring on the label, which for Rainbo is either 31.7mm or a double ring of 31.7/70mm. No historical Blue Note originals have either of those. (NB: Blue Note releases in the recent Tone Poet and Classic Vinyl series are pressed at Record Technology International, which also has used 31.7mm and 31.7/70mm pressing rings.)

Overall I am very happy with all the 200+ Rhino and Scorpio reissues I own. The sound varies from OK to quite good. As Cheppa said, it all depends on the source he had to work with. The vinyl is a standard 140 grams (some Rhinos with the black/gold stickers are 180 grams), usually flat (though I have gotten a few warped disks), and the surfaces are mostly quiet with only the occasional random tick or glitch. The artwork on the jackets and labels is generally clean and sharp.

 

Bottom line: For many rare Blue Note releases, Scorpio reissues are as close as I'm ever going to get to owning an original. Sure, I could just buy the CDs, but for me, playing an LP is always more involving than listening to a digital file or a CD, even if the LP isn't an audiophile pressing.

Enjoy the music!

Jeff Buckley's Dad

Back in 1972 my brother and I and some friends piled into our VW bug and drove to Charlotte to catch Frank Zappa in concert. I can't remember much about the set list, but if you listen to Zappa's live album The Mothers - Fillmore East - June 1971, you'll get a pretty good idea of what the show was like. It will also explain why Zappa was so appealing to rebellious adolescent boys, with his mix of musical prowess, catchy tunes, crass/silly lyrics and irreverent banter.

I couldn't find a poster specifically for the Charlotte show, but the one at left is for a show in Richmond that took place the night after the Charlotte show. $6 for prime seats -- those were the days, eh?

As was and is the case at most big-name concerts, before the headliner comes on, you usually have to sit through a warm-up act by a lesser-known artist, someone you might not be very familiar with or care that much about. In the case of the Zappa concert, the warm-up act was Tim Buckley. 

I don't think I had any idea who Tim Buckley was before this concert. Nowadays, of course, Tim Buckley is primarily known for being the father of Jeff Buckley, whose voice sounded uncannily like his father's. [Father and son both died tragically young. Tim died at age 28 from a drug overdose, while Jeff drowned in the Wolf River in Memphis at the age of 30.]

This isn't a story about how Zappa's warm-up act blew him off the stage. But Buckley's performance was, in a word, mesmerizing. Once again, I can't remember much about the set list (it was 45 years ago after all) but I remember very clearly that Buckley performed what seemed like a 20-minute version of "Gypsy Woman" that nearly melted my eardrums. In case you haven't heard the song, or Tim Buckley for that matter, you can get a taste of "Gypsy Woman" and Buckley's incredible voice from this YouTube clip recorded live at the Troubadour in Los Angeles in 1969. 

Buckley had one of the greatest voices in the history of rock 'n' roll, or maybe in all of recorded history period. It reportedly spanned a remarkable five octaves. Performing "Gypsy Woman," especially live in concert, he wailed, moaned, screamed, and shrieked through all five octaves, sounding like he might actually be possessed by the spirit of some long-dead gypsy. My memory may be faulty, but I recall that at one point he drooled on the stage.

Needless to say, his performance left quite an impression on me. After the show, I went out and bought the album Happy Sad, Buckley's 1969 masterpiece that contains the cut "Gypsy Woman." The interesting thing about Happy Sad is that "Gypsy Woman" is unlike anything else on the album. In fact, the rest of Happy Sad is a hauntingly beautiful acoustic album with Buckley singing languid ballads about lost love and yearning. Side two, in addition to "Gypsy Woman," contains a gut-wrenching song about missing his young son, Jeff, after he split up with his wife, (and former high school sweetheart) Mary Guibert. The song, called "Sing A Song For You," has Buckley wondering how his son is doing and what he's like, and ends with the heart-breaking line, "Oh, what I'd give to hold him."

Over the years, Happy Sad has remained one of my favorite Buckley albums. Heck, it's one of my favorite albums period. It was released in 1969 on the Elektra label, catalog number EKS-74045. The original label was tan (which Elektra used from 1966-69), with the big white "E" logo at the top. 

The copy I bought new in late 1972 or maybe early 1973, shortly after seeing Buckley in concert, is a 1970 repressing on the red Elektra label (used from 1969-1970) with the same catalog number as the original release. This is the 2nd variation of the "red" Elektra label which added their Broadway address in white at the bottom. Apparently some copies were also released on the green Elektra "butterfly" label, which was used from 1970-79.

The deadwax info on my 1970 copy, which amazingly is in EX/VG condition, is:

Side 1: EKS 74045-1C A  P  B3
Side 2: EKS 74045-B-1D  P  A

The "P" indicates that my copy was pressed by Columbia Records at their Pittman, NJ plant. Though it's hard to read, you might make out the fine print at the bottom of the label which says that the album was produced by Jerry Yester and Zal Yanovsky. Yester was an original member of the New Christy Minstrals and the Modern Folk Quartet, and produced records by The Association and The Turtles, as well as Tim Buckley. Zal Yanovsky was a folk singer and guitar player from Canada who formed The Lovin' Spoonful with John Sebastian in Greenwich Village in 1965. [Quick, off-topic aside: Yanovsky eventually moved back to Canada, where he became a chef and opened a very well-known restaurant called Chez Piggy. Yanovsky died in 2002, but his restaurant in Kingston, Ontario is still going strong.]

The second copy of Happy Sad that I own is a 2006 repressing on the 4 Men With Beards label. I'm not sure if it's intentional, but the label mirrors the colors of the 1970 Elektra repressing.

The 4 Men With Beards release is on 180-gram vinyl. There is no indication of the source or whether and by whom it was remastered. However, comparing my two copies it is immediately apparent that the 2006 repressing is more detailed, with greater dynamics and texture, tighter bass, and much greater clarity. The vinyl is flat and dead quiet: It sounds sensational. 

Matrix info:

Side 1: 4M 145 A1 S-61169
Side 2: 4M 145 B1 S-61170

The "S-XXXXX" number indicates that the album was pressed by Rainbo Records in Canoga Park, CA (or possibly Santa Monica. Rainbo moved to their current location in Canoga Park sometime in 2006.) I have a bunch of budget jazz reprints by Rainbo, and in general I find their pressings to be quite good. This one is stellar.

While Happy Sad is a pretty accessible album, much of Buckley's catalog is an acquired taste. During his short career (1966-1974), Buckley released nine albums. Sadly, he never found a large audience, and his albums didn't sell very well. As a result, original or early pressings of his work in VG+ condition or better are expensive and not that easy to come by. If you ever run across good copies at reasonable prices, don't hesitate to snap them up. 

Luckily for me, I bought all of Buckley's original albums in the 70s, most of them original pressings. Over the years I've added to my collection as new releases have appeared, including several live concerts and a couple of collections of rarities and studio demos. I also have about a dozen bootleg live concerts on mp3, which are mostly audience recordings that sound terrible.

The most recent new release of Buckley material is a 2016 LP called Lady, Give Me Your Key. It's a collection of demos that Buckley recorded in 1967 in preparation for his second album, Goodbye And Hello, which came out that same year, also produced by Jerry Yester. The title track was written at the urging of Elektra Records founder Jac Holzman, who wanted Buckley to try to come up with a more commercial song that might produce a hit single. According to the liner notes, Buckley wrote the song under duress, using "give me your key" as a double entendre to mean not only give me the key to your place, but also give me your "key" or "kilo" of marijuana. The fact that the song was never even released tells you all you need to know about its potential as a hit single.

The new LP is lovingly produced by Future Days Recordings, a subsidiary of Light in the Attic Records, based in Seattle, WA. Future Days is focused on reissues of music from the 60s and 70s. The album is pressed on 180-gram vinyl and the cover has quality artwork on heavy stock. It contains extensive liner notes and interviews with Buckley's high school friend and songwriting partner, Larry Beckett, as well as producer Yester. 

The deadwax info is:

Side 1: FDR-631-A GOLDEN 26237.1(2)
Side 2: FDR-631-B GOLDEN 26237.2(2)

Which tells us that the master was cut at Golden Mastering (founded by the legendary John Golden) in Ventura, CA, and was pressed by Record Technology Inc. (RTI) in Camarillo, CA. 

Though a fascinating historical document, Lady, Give Me Your Key is geared mostly toward completists and diehard fans like me. If you're just interested in giving Buckley a listen, I'd recommend starting with Goodbye And Hello or Happy Sad.

And for those (like me) who can't get enough Tim Buckley, there are two biographies. One is called Blue Melody: Tim Buckley Remembered, and is by Buckley's longtime friend and collaborator, guitarist Lee Underwood. The other is a joint bio of Tim and Jeff, called Dream Brothers: The Lives and Music of Jeff and Tim Buckley, written by journalist and music critic David Browne.

Finally, there is a 2012 movie called Greetings From Tim Buckley, which tells the story of Jeff Buckley coming to grips with his relationship to his father while rehearsing to take part in a tribute concert in New York. The tribute concert actually did take place, and it was Jeff Buckley's breakout performance, some three years before his album, Grace. The movie includes a series of flashbacks to Tim's early career and provides some context about his relationship with his wife and son. Actor Ben Rosenfield looks a lot like Tim Buckley and is quite convincing while performing several of his songs. Jeff Buckley is portrayed by actor Penn Badgley. Badgley's performance at the tribute concert (which director Daniel Algrant recreated as an actual concert for the movie) is spine-tingling. 

Enjoy the music!

Used Record Shopping In New Zealand

I recently spent a couple of weeks driving from Auckland to Queenstown in New Zealand with my wife and daughter. While not quite top to bottom, we covered about 1,000 miles of some of the most diverse and beautiful scenery in the world. It is fall in New Zealand, and we enjoyed wonderful, crisp autumn weather throughout our trip. I had been to Auckland about 20 years ago on business, and have a dozen or so albums in my collection that I picked up from a used record store at the time, including a very nice New Zealand pressing of the first album by Dire Straits. 

Since I've been on a vinyl buying spree in the last few months, I wasn't planning to spend much time record shopping down under. In such a beautiful country, it seemed a shame to spend much time indoors anyway. Plus, records are heavy, and I knew I'd have trouble getting a big stack of albums home without paying a hefty fee for extra baggage.

My restraint held out until we got to Christchurch. While driving through the city, we passed a van parked on the side of the road with a big sign that said: "We Want To Buy Your Used Records." The ad was for a shop called Penny Lane, and when we ended up with a couple of free hours one afternoon, I decided to stop by.

Good decision. Penny Lane is a fabulous record store with a huge stock in just about every genre. I started off in the jazz section, and quickly found 10 or so titles, including a couple of Dave Brubeck and Kai Winding albums that I didn't have. One of the neat things about foreign pressings are the differences in the jackets and labels from the U.S. originals. Dave Brubeck, for example, was with Columbia Records for the bulk of his career. Original Brubeck albums from the 50s and 60s are on the famous Columbia "six-eye" labels. 

Below are the cover and "six-eye" label from the US original 1957 release of Dave Digs Disney.

The New Zealand copy of Dave Digs Disney that I found is on the CBS/Coronet label, with a greenish tinted cover and a unique hexagonal  "stop-sign" label.

The back jacket states that the album was: "Manufactured for the Australian Record Company by Philips Electrical Industries of N.Z. LTD."

The sleeve is the old UK style, where the front of the jacket folds over and seals on the back, like the original Beatles Parlophone sleeves. The stamped matrix numbers on the New Zealand copy are exactly the same as as the original Columbia release: XLP42063-2C and XLP42064-2E, leading me to wonder if the New Zealand pressings were made from U.S. stampers? The New Zealand release also has hand-etched (and presumably) New Zealand or Australian catalog numbers MX 106399 and MX 106400 in the matrix. The New Zealand jacket is laminated on very flimsy stock, the kind also used for UK and other EU releases. I don't have a U.S. original to compare it to, but the NZ mono pressing is NM and sounds very fine.

Before I left, I took a quick look through the rock section. I picked up an original UK pressing of Ashes Are Burning by Renaissance on the Sovereign label. I have several U.S. copies, but have always wanted to hear the UK pressing. (It's better than the Capitol/Sovereign U.S. release.) Interestingly, the UK release has a slightly different cover, with band members Annie Haslam and Jon Camp smiling (and wearing different clothes), as compared to their more serious expressions on the U.S. release. (U.S. release is on the left below.)

I also found a New Zealand copy of the Emerson, Lake & Palmer album Pictures At An Exhibition, which also has a different cover than the U.S. and UK releases.

Both the original US and UK releases have empty frames, as shown on the right above. When you open the gatefold cover, the pictures appear on the inside. The New Zealand cover is not a gatefold, so apparently they just put the pictures on the outside. 

Finally, I found very nice New Zealand pressings of the Beatles first two albums, Please Please Me, and With the Beatles. Both were originally issued in 1963. In a previous post, I talked about the Beatles' original UK Parlophone releases, which some collectors think are the best sounding versions of all. Unfortunately I've never been able to acquire any of them, since they can easily fetch hundreds or thousands of dollars, depending on condition. So maybe the next best thing are New Zealand pressings? The two Beatles LPs that I found are on the black and silver Parlophone label. According to the jackets, they are repressings from 1978 and 1979 respectively. Both are near mint copies, with shiny vinyl and almost flawless covers. The prices seemed ridiculously cheap to me at only NZ $30 apiece (about $20 US).

I am happy to report that the vinyl is dead quiet on both, and the sound is outstanding. They are stereo copies, but are not like the awful early Capitol versions with vocals on one channel and instruments on the other. The NZ copies have a natural stereo spread and great texture and detail. I haven't done a comparison with the copies from the 2012 remastered stereo box set, but these Kiwi copies sound excellent.

Penny Lane in Christchurch had a good selection of New Zealand Beatles albums -- some with unusual covers and labels -- and I wish I had bought more. However, my suitcase was already bursting at the seams. Luckily for me, the very nice person at the check-in counter in Auckland attached a "Very Heavy" sticker to the outside and said she wouldn't charge me for the extra weight. 

Enjoy the music!

Chasing Trane - The Life of John Coltrane

I came relatively late to jazz. That is to say that while I have been collecting pop, rock and (to a lesser degree) classical music for more than 45 years, I've only gotten serious about collecting jazz in the last 10 years or so. Which is a shame, because if I had started sooner, it would have been a whole lot easier to pick up good copies of many of the classic titles that now command three-figure prices. And even better, since I was in New York City a number of times in the mid 1970s, I could have caught many of the great bebop artists in their prime -- if I'd only known.

Since I didn't spend my misguided youth going to every jazz concert within a hundred miles and obsessing over every guitar lick or drum solo the way I did with rock music, I find that I can't easily tell the great jazz players apart the way I can their rock counterparts. A guitar solo by Duane Allman, Jimi Hendrix, Eric Clapton, Jimmy Page, or Pete Townshend? I can name that tune in three notes. When it comes to jazz, not so much. Oh, sure, I can usually identify Miles Davis's distinctive muted trumpet sound (or could that be Chet Baker instead?), and McCoy Tyner's percussive piano style, but if you put on an album by a random jazz saxophone player, chances are I will not be able to tell you who it is. Hank Mobley? Sonny Stitt? Charlie Parker? Sonny Rollins? Cannonball Adderley? No, wait, maybe Stan Getz? I've tried to educate myself, reading the writings of the great jazz critics and jazz historians like Ted Gioia, Nat Hentoff, Leonard Feather, Ira Gitler, Ralph J. Gleason, Herb Wong, and so on. But when they talk about the incredible extended solo by so-and-so on a particular track, it never comes to mind the way, say, Duane Allman's soaring slide guitar on Layla pops right into my head.

Four fifths of Miles Davis's second great quintet

Of course, the reason I can more easily identify rock musicians is because I know much more about them. I closely followed their careers in Rolling Stone magazine (no internet in the 60s and 70s) and analyzed every note on their albums while playing them over and over on my stereo. I've read probably half a dozen Beatles biographies: I know when John and Paul first met, the first song they co-wrote, and who the other drummers were before Ringo came along. Of course it helps that the turnover in most rock bands was fairly limited. When it comes to jazz, musicians were constantly forming different lineups, popping up at each other's gigs and sitting in on recording sessions. Who can keep up with the players in Miles's second great quintet or the names of the cats in the third iteration of Art Blakey's Jazz Messengers?

I recently went to see director John Scheinfeld's new documentary about John Coltrane, called Chasing Trane. It's playing in limited release around the country. It is a fascinating look at the life and music of the legendary sax player. And it provides the kind of cultural and musical context that I lack when it comes to understanding jazz and jazz musicians.

Photo of John Coltrane by Chuck Steward

I feel a natural affinity for Coltrane, since I was born and raised about 20 minutes from High Point, NC, which is where Coltrane grew up. (He was actually born in the small town of Hamlet, NC, about 90 miles south of High Point.) 

Chasing Trane includes rare and archival footage of Coltrane performances as well as home movies of him with family and friends. But the real insight comes from a series of interviews that are interspersed throughout the narrative. Most of the interviewees are well-known jazz figures or family members who knew Coltrane well, including musical contemporaries Benny Golson, Sonny Rollins, and Jimmy Heath. A number of other people comment on Coltrane's life and work, including former President Bill Clinton and rock guitarist Carlos Santana.

It was fascinating to learn more about Coltrane's life and musical development, about his personal struggles and beliefs, his relationships with his two wives and children, as well as his relationships with other jazz musicians. Some reviewers of the film have complained that the documentary covers Coltrane's life very well, but doesn't leave enough time to actually hear his music. It's a fair point, but really, that's what records are for. 

As with any type of music, the way to better understand it is to better understand the musicians that made it. If you love the Rolling Stones, it's important to know how Keith Richards's and Mick Jagger's love of American blues music affected their music. In the same way, it's critical to understand Coltrane's lifelong spiritual searching in order to understand his music. 

Even though I'm listening to more and more jazz now, I still find it incredibly difficult to develop any real sense of familiarity with the music and the players. Especially compared to rock 'n' roll. The Beatles entire studio output was 13 albums, released from 1963-1970. That's it. Sure there are lots of outtakes and bootlegs and such, but you can easily sit down and listen to all 13 albums by dinner time if you want to. I could probably hum any song on those 13 albums from start to finish. And even longer-running and more prolific groups like the Rolling Stones or Chicago, where I definitely can't identify all the songs, seem a lot easier to get a grip on than most major jazz artists. 

Part of that, of course, is just the difference between rock and jazz. Rock songs -- at least a good percentage of classic titles -- are plus or minus three minutes long with catchy melodies and memorable lyrics. And it's just easier to remember a song that has lyrics. Jazz, by its nature, is improvised and ever-changing, even when playing the same song. Still, as I mentioned above, I can remember nearly every note of Duane Allman's instrumental solos, whereas recalling a particular solo by Miles Davis still usually alludes me.

Another big difference between rock and jazz is that many prominent jazz musicians played on hundreds of different album sessions with dozens and dozens of different musicians. And except for some long-running groups like Dave Brubeck's quartet, jazz groups were much more fluid than pop bands, with members constantly shifting and changing or getting together to record a one-off session. Even with all the personnel changes in the Allman Brothers lineup in nearly 50 years as a band, they're pikers compared with the laundry list of artists who passed through Art Blakey's Jazz Messengers. And compared to the Allman Brothers, who pretty much still sounded like the Allman Brothers from beginning to end, each time the personnel changed in the Jazz Messengers, you had a very different sound. In a rock context, it would be like if one month Keith Moon were playing drums for The Who, and the next month showed up to make a record with the Rolling Stones, and the month after that went on tour with Led Zeppelin. If he had done, it would be much more important to understand Keith Moon as an individual musician rather than his contribution to the sound of The Who.

Watching Chasing Trane drove home to me the importance of understanding the individual artists in order to understand jazz. And of course not just the artists, but the relationship between the artists and how the ever-changing group lineups affected their sound. Because when Coltrane played with Dizzy's band or as a member of Miles's second great quintet in the 50s, he was a very different artist than he was when he emerged as a the leader of his own quintet in the 60s.

Because of his seminal importance, Coltrane seems like a great place to start to try to get a better handle on jazz. So I've ordered a biography and a few albums to supplement those already in my collection. Maybe with some more dedicated listening, I'll be able to say, "Oh, yeah. That's definitely Trane."

If you're just starting out with Coltrane and want to catch up quickly, there is a great new box set of his mono releases on the Atlantic label. There is also an older, out-of-print set of the same releases (plus a few extras) in stereo, called The Heavyweight Champion. Rhino put out the stereo box, and some of the individual titles are available separately if you just want to hit the highlights. And of course, Cotrane's entire catalog is still available on re-pressings. 

Enjoy the (jazz) music!

Which Should You Buy -- Original LPs Or Modern Re-Pressings?

One of the great things about the vinyl revival is that lots of great old albums are being re-released. And often the albums are remastered from the original master tapes and pressed on great-quality vinyl, resulting in records that sound as good or better than the original releases. A perfect example is the Beatles mono box set that came out in 2014. All the Beatles LPs that were released in mono were remastered from the original Abbey Road tapes and issued on 180-gram vinyl with beautifully reproduced labels and jackets. Except for the few lucky souls who collected the original UK releases, or have the time and the money to track them down, this is the next best thing. 

There have been lots of other great-sounding re-releases in recent years, including the Bob Dylan Mono Box, Neil Young's Archive Series, the Bert Jansch Transatlantic remasters, the Analogue Productions' Beach Boys remasters, Rhino's Joni Mitchell re-pressings, and so on. 

In many cases, including most of those listed above, I already owned the original albums, but bought the reissues anyway. Sometimes I buy new releases because my original isn't in great shape, and sometimes I buy them just to hear the new remastering, especially if they get good reviews or are done by a top-notch re-issue label. In some cases, the newer versions are clearly superior, with quieter vinyl, punchier bass, more air, better balance, or textures and details that simply weren't there before. But not always. I have a number of newly remastered disks where the original is still better. Sometimes it's because the original version is the one that I've heard a hundred times and so it just sounds "right" to me. That's a subjective thing. But other times, the re-pressing objectively just isn't very good. 

As an example, BMG issued newly-remastered versions of Emerson, Lake and Palmer's albums in 2016. They were cut using 24/96 digital transfers made from the original tapes. They are pressed on heavy vinyl and have beautifully reproduced original jackets. I bought the new version of Pictures at an Exhibition to see how it compared to the original. I have three copies of the original, including first UK and US pressings. The original UK release was mastered by George Peckham (Porky), and the original US release was mastered by George Piros. To my ears, the UK release is the better of the two originals.

But both of them were better than the new BMG release, which I found to be a disappointment. To my ears, the sound is thick and compressed. The original releases have better balance, much greater dynamics, and more air and detail. So in this case, if you don't own a copy of Pictures (and if not, why not?), you are much better off picking up a nm used copy of the original UK (or even US) pressing. Originals are relatively easy to find, and cheaper than the $28 repressing. 

The problem, of course, is knowing whether the reissue sounds better and is worth the price. For major reissues, like the Beatles, there will be plenty of reviews and lots of opinions on the various online forums like Steve Hoffman. But for less well-known albums that I don't have, I often wrestle with the question of whether to buy the a reissue, or pick up a good used copy on Discogs or elsewhere.

For popular 60s and 70s titles that were pressed by the hundreds of thousands if not millions, a good used copy is generally cheaper than a repressing. But not always. An original pressing of Neil Young's seminal 1972 album, Harvest, can easily fetch $75 - $100 in top condition. Since I didn't own an original copy, (how the heck did that happen?), I was happy to buy the 2009 reissue when it came out. Chris Bellman did the remastering, and it sounds great. However, a few weeks ago I was rooting through boxes of albums at an antiques mall and found a beautiful 1978 Warner Brothers repressing of Harvest. The jacket is nm, and the vinyl looked unplayed. It was less than $10. Holy moly what a deal. Naturally I was anxious to hear how it sounded in comparison to the 2009 remaster. Turns out there is no comparison. The 2009 remaster is great, but the 1978 repressing is just better -- more dynamic range, better detail, more natural sounding.

That's admittedly a small sample, but I have been disappointed with a number of other remastered LPs as well. For now, unless the original is super rare or expensive, I'll be tracking down clean copies of the originals. 

However, things are generally different when it comes to classic jazz titles. The problem is that even popular jazz titles didn't sell all that many copies. And since many or the classic Bebop albums came out in the 50s and 60s, the supply of clean originals is dwindling fast. I still have luck finding the occasional gem on Verve or Prestige in the used bins, but even the thrift stores have figured out that original Blue Notes are worth their weight in gold.

So we're left with re-pressings and reissues. I was very happy when back in 2014 Blue Note began releasing new pressings of dozens of LPs from their back catalog in honor of the 75th anniversary of the label. The new albums look great -- 180-gram vinyl with beautiful reproductions of the original labels and jackets. Unfortunately, company president Don Was's goal was to make them available for $20. A notable goal that would put them in reach of almost all budding vinyl collectors. But to keep the price down, they had to make compromises, like cutting the new lacquers from digital masters, and apparently going with the low bidder for pressing the vinyl. I've picked up maybe 10 of the reissues. The sound on all of them is sort of meh, and at least five of them have bad surface noise. I exchanged several of them for different copies, and the replacements sound just as bad. They are simply bad pressings, often by United Record Pressing of Nashville, whose quality control seems a little lacking. So I won't be buying any more of the 75th anniversary re-pressings. The problem is that there are a lot of Blue Note titles that I would like to have, but I don't want to spend what it costs to get a good copy of an early pressing. 

For example, I didn't have a copy of the classic 1963 Blue Note release of Kenny Burrell's Midnight Blue.

  
It's a stone cold classic, and I need a copy. Popsike, which tracks auction prices for LPs, shows that an original Midnight Blue in nm condition sold for $565 in 2015. So that's not happening. There are a couple of 1985 French Blue Note DMM reprints on Discogs for $40-50. But the reputation of these reprints is not great. So, what to do? Luckily, Music Matters, a great audiophile re-issue label, put out a remastered edition of Midnight Blue in 2014. It is still available at a few places online. It retails for $40 (which is sort of the high end of what I'll pay for a new record). But the Music Matters reprints are superb, so I ordered a copy. It's not just good, it is mind-blowingly good. Sitting-right-there-in-the-studio good. The re-mastering was done by Kevin Gray at Cohearent Audio, and it was pressed at Record Technology Inc. in Camarilla, CA. If the $565 original New York Blue Note sounds better, it would be a life-changing experience. I bought a few other Music Matters reprints while I was at it, and they all sound fantastic. 

Depending on the Blue Note (or Prestige or Contemporary, or Riverside, etc) title, it is often possible to find a good classic jazz repressing from the 70s or 80s. The Original Jazz Classics Remasters series - which now number in the hundreds -- sound excellent and are very good value, particularly the ones released before 1986-87, when they started cutting the lacquers from digital masters. 

So where does all this leave us? In my experience, the overall sound quality of mass-produced LPs from the 60s and 70s is amazingly good. And even nm copies are usually cheaper than modern re-pressings. On the other hand, if you are looking for a more collectible title, including an original Blue Note, Led Zeppelin, Rolling Stones, or the like, you're better off with the re-pressing, particularly if it's done by one of the quality labels like Music Matters, Analogue Productions, or MFSL.  A lot of "public domain" reissues of classic jazz albums have hit the shelves in Europe in the last few years, pressed on 180-gram vinyl and with good-looking replica jackets.  Some commenters on online forums think the sound quality isn't great, but I'm withholding judgment until I get a chance to hear some.  I'll try to put together a comparison for a future post.


Enjoy the music!

"Produced By Creed Taylor"

On a recent trip to the west coast to visit family, I stopped at a record store in the small town of Anderson, California. Anderson is about ten miles south of Redding, and about two hours north of Sacramento, just off Interstate 5. While it doesn't look like much from the outside, Meteor Music is a terrific store with a nice selection of music in just about every genre, as well as posters, magazines and other music memorabilia. I ended up buying about 15 albums, all in very good shape and all fairly priced. The owners are good guys and really know their stuff. It's hard to imagine why you would, but if you ever find yourself in Northern California near Anderson, you should stop by.

One of the titles I bought at Meteor was a copy of Hubert Laws' 1970 release, Afro-Classic, on the CTI label. Great album. About two weeks later, back home from our trip, I stumbled on a copy of Laws' 1974 album, In The Beginning, also on the CTI label. Just a coincidence? Probably, but finding these two albums got me looking through my collection for other albums on the Creed Taylor Incorporated record label. In case you aren't familiar with CTI, their releases are very distinctive, featuring laminated gatefold jackets with striking photographs by artist Pete Turner.

Equally striking is the all-star team of people that worked at CTI, beginning with the founder, Creed Taylor.

Taylor was born in Virginia in 1929. He played trumpet in his high school band and went to Duke University where he played in various jazz ensembles. After college and a stint in the Marines (including 10 months in Korea), he moved to New York and convinced a fellow Duke alum to hire him at Bethlehem Records. With no real experience, Taylor produced an album for singer Chris Connor that became a hit. And as Wikipedia tells us: "Due in part to the album's success, Taylor went on to become head of artists and repertory (A&R) for Bethlehem Records during its two most significant years, recording such artists as Oscar Pettiford, Ruby Braff (Ruby Braff???), Carmen McRae, Charles Mingus, Herbie Mann, Charlie Shavers, and the J.J. Johnson-Kai Winding Quintet. In 1956, Taylor left Bethlehem for ABC-Paramount Records, where four years later he founded the subsidiary label Impulse!"

Taylor's great coup at Impulse! was signing John Coltrane to a recording contract. Coltrane went on to record some 20 albums for Impulse!, which all by itself was enough to make the label a huge force in jazz music. It was also the reason that Impulse! became know as "the house that Trane built." But that's a whole 'nother post.

Despite his success at Impulse!, Taylor was lured away in 1961 when MGM asked him to become the new head of Verve Records. (Verve founder Norman Granz sold the label to MGM in 1960.) At Verve, Taylor is credited with being the man who introduced bossa nova to the United States. Taylor produced the seminal sessions for Getz/Gilberto, which included the number one hit "The Girl From Ipanema." He followed that up with a string of bossa nova albums by Antonio Carlos Jobim and Stan Getz, in addition to producing jazz sessions by Jimmy Smith, Wes Montgomery, and Bill Evans.

Meanwhile, out in Los Angeles, Herb Alpert and Jerry Moss were selling Tijuana Brass albums by the truck load on their A&M label. They wanted to extend their empire into jazz, and decided to start a jazz subsidiary. And who better to run the show than Creed Taylor? No one, apparently. With the lure of having his own imprint (and a five-year, $1 million contract), Taylor agreed to leave Verve and head up the new A&M/CTI jazz label. 

The first album that Taylor produced for the label was A Day In The Life by Wes Montgomery. If you can get past the disgusting photo of cigarette butts, you will see the first appearance of the CTI logo at bottom right (which bears some resemblance to the style of the impulse! logo). This first release also put in place the production and musical teams that Taylor would use for the bulk of his recordings for both A&M and later at his independent CTI label. And what a team!  Rudy Van Gelder as the recording/mastering engineer, Don Sebesky writing arrangements and conducting, and a house band that included such heavy hitters as Ron Carter on bass, Grady Tate on Drums, and Herbie Hancock on piano.

Over the next three years, Taylor produced and released 27 albums for A&M. Besides Wes Montgomery, other artists who appeared on the A&M/CTI imprint were Herbie Mann, Nat Adderley, George Benson, Paul Desmond, Quincy Jones, and Kai Winding and J.J. Johnson. All the albums were released on the familiar tan A&M label with the "trumpet" logo. Creed Taylor's CTI logo and his signature are on the right side. Despite Taylor's impeccable jazz pedigree and the unquestionable chops of musicians like Carter and Hancock, critical reaction to the A&M/CTI series was mixed. They were not considered "serious" bop albums. With Sebesky's lush orchestrations, the songs often sounded like elevator versions of the originals. Of course, as Herb Alpert had already shown with the Tijuana Brass, people really like pop-sounding jazz, so many of the albums were quite successful commercially.

In 1970, Taylor bought out A&M and took CTI independent. However, many of the artists and the musical approach that Taylor had used at A&M continued pretty much unchanged. The first five CTI titles were released on a green label, which was quickly switched out for a redesigned orange label with burgundy stripes that was used for most of the 70s. Notice also that the logo has subtly changed from the earlier A&M version.

After checking my collection, it turns out that I have 13 CTI releases, as well as four A&M/CTI releases. Overall, I have 48 albums that were produced by Creed Taylor, mostly on the Verve label. (No, I didn't go through all 4,500 albums to check. I use a computer cataloging program that allows me to search such things in my collection.) 

Coltrane notwithstanding, Taylor's approach to jazz, especially in the 70s, often produced something more akin to a jazz/pop fusion or jazz light. In an extended interview with Downbeat magazine's Ted Panken in 2005, Taylor says he was weaned on big band music, and was turned off by the extended improvised solos in classic bop.  He says that compared to other jazz producers, he was more focused on how to sell albums and get radio play. Although his first consideration, he says, was to be sure that his recording sessions found "a groove." Though his critics blame him for setting jazz on the road to ruin, i.e. "smooth jazz," Taylor says he never intended to create "background music for beautiful people." 

Taylor stopped producing albums in the mid 90s. Although I couldn't find a complete discography of his work, a search on Discogs comes up with 1,074 hits for "producer credit" for Creed Taylor. That includes singles and lots of reissued and duplicated titles, but it's still an amazing body of work.  As of this writing, Taylor, who will be 88 years old in May, is still alive. 

Regardless of where you stand on smooth jazz, the sessions that Taylor produced are generally well recorded and feature some of the greatest names in jazz history. While I don't find my CTI releases to be across-the-board great sounding, Van Gelder never made a really bad recording.  Plus, it's always a thrill to see Van Gelder stamped in the deadwax. Since I often find CTI releases and even Verve titles for less than $10, it's usually worth the risk to check them out. However, as always with used albums, the condition is key. Older mono pressings often play nicely and sound great, even when they look scratched up. Scratched stereo releases are never going to sound good.

Enjoy the music!