This new recording project may finally
be the break-through for composer and saxophonist Jim Saltzman.
It is a shame that he is not more widely recognized and appreciated.The
overall sound might be described as muscular and full: individual
contributions are both inventive and deliberate. There is hardly
a wasted note or slight hesitation.This is creative jazz at it's
best. Lunch for your ears!!
-Tim PriceSAXOPHONE
JOURNAL
"...tenor saxophonist Jim Saltzman let loose - using cries, fast-ripped phrases, leaping lines and more to tell his story."
-Zan Stewart The Star-Ledger (January 10, 2007)
“You Shouldn’t Have”
was written in the fall of 2000. At the time, I was studying
the Miles Davis/Gil Evans piece, “Deception” from
the album, “Birth Of The Cool.” Even though “Deception”
was recorded in 1950, it sounds extremely modern and current
– it’s timeless! “You Shouldn’t Have”
utilizes certain harmonic progressions and colors (such as polychords)
found on Davis/Evans piece. Additionally, the title reflects
my “off” sense of humor – I was imagining
the faces and comments of the musicians as they read through
the chart for the first time – “Thanks, Jim…you
shouldn’t have!”
“Black &
White Are Colors” is a dark, ominous, and moody piece
that I composed somewhere between December 2001 and January
2002. At the time, I had been studying out of Vincent Persichetti’s
“Twentieth-Century Harmony – Creative Aspects And
Practice” book, particularly the chapter on synthetic,
pentatonic, and hexatonic scale formations. The title represents
both the dense and busy sections of the melody (the black) and
the open, reflective sections (the white). Both aspects of the
melodic content also change to a slightly different “shade”
as the chords change underneath them, much like the shadows
on ordinary objects change throughout the day. The title of
this piece comes from a letter written by Vincent Van Gogh to
Emile Bernard in the second half of June 1888. I’m also
blatantly making fun of my diagnosed color blindness (which
is REALLY bad!).
“Between Broad
and Pine” was written in the spring of 2002. At the time,
I was feeling nostalgic for my days living in Philadelphia.
I loved (and still do!) walking in Philly at any time; it was
very relaxing and gave me time to just think. I used to walk
between 9th and Pine over to the music building at UArts, which
is on Broad St (in between Spruce and Locust). The composition
itself is through-composed, and uses a different set of “blowing
changes.” I had been studying Alexander Scriabin’s
“Sonata No. 1 in F Minor, Op. 6” when I wrote this
piece.