Take Five

The unexpected richness of breaking standards

This might be a first in a series of “where were you when you heard that song?”

Random set of Polaroids I found for Mum and Dad’s Green Cards. I roll with tears every time I look at dad’s writing on them :) Then, my perfect mum. One take.

Not one to tow the line myself, I will always feel richly blessed by Dave Brubreck’s unexpected, yet ground-breaking, album “Time Out.” Released almost one year prior to my birth, I can still see where I was the first time I ever heard “Take Five.”

It was 1970. I was 9 years old, my little brother three.

We were living in the heart of the San Fernando Valley in a modest home (the one with the white rock roof).

After long days at work, and on weekends, dad was was usually spending time fixing up a car to sell. He didn’t just do it to get by, he did it out of passion, which made getting by all the better.

Dad was an outstanding, self-taught car mechanic and had a thing for older mustangs and jags. The perfect blend of American and British. Back then a little pocket money could buy you an old fixer, and with skill, you could turn it around, on a budget, for a few thousand more.

There was usually a dune-buggy, built from a jalopy with a decent engine, thrown in. I remember standing at the front door with mum watching a tow truck back into our driveway and dump an old Corvair off. It was a wreck, but the engine was good.

Arleta, 1971 | 1st phase, before rails, built from ground up | Corvair engine

Mum, hand on her hips, was usually speechless.

Our garage had a door entry to our kitchen and mum opened it and slammed it. a lot calling dad for dinner. There he was, the greasy coverall guy, rolling out from underneath his latest project, grabbing his dinner, and right back out he went. I smile thinking about it.

Dad was as passionate about fixing up cars as he was for the music. Our house had an array of genres playing from the stereo console all the time. It’s where my love of jazz developed or at least my ear for it. That was dad’s favorite. He listened to every jazz band and singer he could find and was still hunting new artists out towards the end of his life. I miss how excited he was to share his latest finds.

Back to that sunny day in 1970. Dad had completed the restoration of a beat-up Jaguar S-Type. It was probably the first time I heard him say, “you could eat off the engine.” <insert heavy British accent> There isn’t a car show I attend that I don’t think about him saying that. He was so proud of this car.. I actually thought it was ours!

Little did I know or understand that it would be sold. I believe Dad took a whopping 5k for it. I was very aware that this was a leather-seat, fire-engine-red (dad did the paint job too), real-walnut-wood-dash, polished-to-perfection, down-to-the-last-detail beauty that probably didn’t belong in our neighborhood. I didn’t get it.

I loved this car so much and I couldn’t imagine not getting to drive in it.

When the sale sign was written and the weekend came… dad said “we’re taking it for a ride through the valley.” “Keep your hands to yourselves!!” Don’t touch a thing!!” I watched as dad started the engine, and carefully plugged-in an eight-track tape.

Off we went.

The first song, “Blue Rondo à la Turk,” felt like a cool tap class. Come to find out later its keynote is a tilted version of 9/8.

As we rounded the corner, and drove out onto the main highway, I felt lost in the music. A Jungle Book of sorts "Gettin' mad, baby!" sings Baloo, as the chorus swells, "take me home, Daddy!" I felt every note.

Third song in, “Take Five,” written in a time signature of 5/4, filled my nine year old head with fashion ideas and “this is what it feels like to be rich.” Nothing could compare to that moment. It was magic.

Brubeck’s album, “Time Out” worried the marketing department at Columbia Records. They said it would never sell with its uncommon time signatures.

In 1961, Dave Brubeck told Ralph Gleason on the TV program Jazz Casual that jazz had lost some of its adventurous qualities. He said it wasn't challenging the public rhythmically the way it had in its early days.

"It's time that the jazz musicians take up their original role of leading the public into a more adventurous rhythm," he said.

Brubeck said it's a good idea to shake things up a bit, and that's exactly what he did with the song "Take Five."

Interestingly, Dave Brubeck decided to put a “painting” on the cover too. That was a first for a jazz album. Time Out's cover is the creation of Sadamitsu “S. Neil” Fujita, who was a visual artist at Columbia Records between 1954 and 1960.

I’m sure glad that the label president of Columbia intervened and said “it was about time somebody did something different.” The Dave Brubeck Quartet was, quite simply, the most famous and commercially successful jazz combo of the 1950s and 1960s. With Brubeck on piano, Paul Desmond on alto saxophone, Joe Morello on drums beginning in 1956, and Eugene Wright on bass from 1958, they routinely won the popularity polls of magazines such as “Down Beat.” Dave Brubeck’s eldest son, Darius, characterized the intent of the album as experimental and “entirely dedicated to the working out of a particular musical idea” - namely, the use of meters and rhythms that were not common in jazz.

Time Out was the first jazz album to sell more than a million copies. The album was certified platinum in 1997 and double platinum in 2011. The single, "Take Five," also sold over a million.

Jaguar S Type (1963–1968) - Stock Image | Classic Motoring | Everything I remember about that car pictured here.

And it almost wasn't used. Both Brubeck and Morello say they can't pinpoint what it is about "Take Five" that has made it the biggest-selling jazz single ever. Brubeck guesses it was the catchy repeated vamp. Morello says the whole thing just clicked.

"It just worked," he says. "You know, if anyone could ever predict what's going to be a big seller like that, my God, they'd be driving around in Rolls-Royces; you know, living in castles."

The unexpected richness of breaking standards. The moment when jazz swept up a whole new generation. Dad would never afford a car like that, but the “time out” for this nine year old kid was far more valuable.

I miss you dad. ox

If you have a “where were you when you heard that song?” you’d like to share, I’d love to hear. I mentioned this, in a podcast, as a game we played last Christmas.