Photo: 2010 by Steven Perilloux
Charlie Haden, one of the great jazz bassists, died this morning, at age 76, after a long illness.
I've written here often of Haden's prowess and creativity, most recently a review of Last Dance, his sublime (and—a lovely last treat—commercially successful) duet album with Keith Jarrett. You could find worse ways to spend a Friday night, emptying a nice bottle and listening to this disc and any other Haden albums you might have around (there's hardly a clunker in the catalog).
I will miss watching him play on the bandstand, leaning over his bass, head turned away, eyes closed, immersed in the music, intensively listening to his band mates, and beaming—almost ecstatic—when one of them unleashed a particularly nice riff that he could bounce off.
There will always be the music—he played with everyone from Ornette Coleman to Rickie Lee Jones—and I have a list of my favorites on the obituary that I just wrote for Slate. Dip in anywhere, to mourn his passing but, much more, to celebrate his life and legacy.
