Chamber Jazz

Jimmy Giuffre is a spare, soft-spoken Texan who distrusts the word jazz, but plays some of the best jazz to be heard these days--most of it of his own composition. Giuffre (pronounced joo-free) has broken the rules; he does not believe that jazz requires any particular combination of instruments, or that it needs a strong beat, or that its heart is improvisation. To addicts weaned on driving, Basie-inspired rhythm sections, Jimmy's chamois-soft contrapuntal compositions sometimes do not sound like jazz at all. But the feeling is there--a folksy, blues-drenched feeling, timeless and distinct from the music of any other modern jazzman.

Felt but Not Heard. Jimmy's trio (Giuffre, sax and clarinet; Jim Hall, guitar; Ralph Pena, bass) strutted their stuff one star-studded night last week in the outdoor Wollman Theater in Manhattan's Central Park. Jimmy led the boys through a passel of his favorites: Pickin' 'Em Up and Layin' 'Em Down, 42nd Street, My Funny Valentine. The bass wove its low melodic line against the woodsy, paper-dry clarinet sound, the guitar attacked as solo rather than rhythm instrument. Sometimes Jimmy had five instruments (he played tenor and baritone sax and clarinet) shuttling in a complicated web of converging and diverging solo sounds. Of his own compositions, Gotta Dance proved to be a happy, hopping number marked by the husky noodling of Giuffre's sax. The Train and the River opened with the rhythm of a not-too-express train, only to jump the rails and lose itself by a pleasant riverbank. When Jimmy and the boys took their bows, the audience applauded politely, not quite sure what it had heard.

Jimmy Giuffre first played the clarinet in a Y.M.C.A. band, developed his style out of a distaste for the trancelike monotony of the big jazz rhythm section. In his 36 years he has played with a lot of big outfits--Boyd Raeburn, Jimmy Dorsey, Woody Herman, Buddy Rich, Garwood Van, Spade Cooley. When Giuffre got out of the Army, he enrolled at the University of Southern California, became interested in Bartok, Hindemith, Shostakovich, Prokofiev. He began to write "linear" music, in which he tried to keep the rhythm section ("It should be felt rather than heard") from conflicting with other instruments. As he sees it, the drums and bass ought to play melody too, not just accompaniment, and then give way to the others. ''Each man has a ballad of his own, and he can hear the others. The music resembles chamber music but with jazz feeling."

Puppet on a String. Giuffre's own compositions are written without the aid of an instrument--he just uses "the inner ear." They are often inspired by the green countryside that he and his fellow soloists roll through in their orange-and-brown Volkswagen bus, and written down in odd moments between performances. The results are unusually appealing, sometimes suggesting purposeful musical doodles, sometimes the dance of a rubber-jointed, graceful puppet on a string.

Because so many jazzmen are seriously studying music these days, Giuffre expects the ferment of experimentation to give off some wonderful new sounds in the next few years. Until a better one comes along, Giuffre's own new sound will do.

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