The history of the JAZZPAR AWARDS constitutes, in retrospect, a significant development in the recognition of jazz by international arbiters of taste, and by distributors of monetary recognition. Set up by the Danish Jazz Center and sponsored by Skandinavisk Tobakskompagni, it was the first award in the jazz field to offer an international nominee not only the exposure of a concert series, but the donation of a statuette and a significant cash prize (amounting to 200,000 Danish kroner). Between 1990 and 2004, the award was made to several American performers but also, reflecting the history of the music itself, to six Europeans (Tony Coe, Django Bates, Martial Solal, Marilyn Mazur, Enrico Rava and Aldo Romano). It's worth remembering too that, as well as celebrating jazz per se, the fundamental idea was to draw attention to the world-class ability of Denmark's own musicians. Each annual winner was required to perform in a situation of their own choosing, but one which would involve several local players, as seen in the present series of reissues. In addition, it shouldn't be forgotten that each year a smaller prize was given to a Danish musician who was given the opportunity to invite a foreign player of their choice, often but not always an American, to appear and record with them. The international winners tended to be distinguished figures who, up to that point, had not received the amount of wider recognition that they deserved, and who found the award to be an honour that also increased their reputation. Such was the case with the initial recipients of the award, namely Muhal Richard Abrams (1990), David Murray (1991) and Lee Konitz (1992). The present set showcases the work of Konitz in a variety of settings all derived from the JAZZPAR All Star Nonet directed by saxophonist Jens Sndergaard, and it begins with three tracks recorded by Radio Denmark during the actual final concert of the series in Copenhagen's Falkoner Scenen. Sadly, although this reissue had been in preparation for some months, it has now turned into a memorial for Konitz, who died at the age of 92 from complications of the virus Covid_19 on April 15, 2020. It seems redundant to write at length about the career of Konitz himself, for he was one of the most highly valued individualists of the entire field of jazz. Recordings from as early as 1947, the year he turned 20, show that the basis of his unique style was already formed, partly under the influence of fellow Chicagoan Lennie Tristano. This fact was remarkable enough, in an era when all the other saxophonists who weren't actively clinging to the approach of Johnny Hodges, Willie Smith or Benny Carter were trying desperately to catch up with Charlie Parker. But Konitz was developing an almost pianistic process, in which his lines were not dictated by what was easy for his instrument and, in addition, were not given a deliberately emotive profile by the articulation and tonal variety of the saxophone. Of course, such an iconoclastic approach to the art of playing jazz was, in the popular American expression, "a hard row to hoe" and, whereas in his later years Lee enjoyed an almost lonely eminence, for much of his career it was more a question of lonely obscurity. It is all the more admirable, then, that he did not remain rooted to the spot but allowed his style to develop, and to develop in an intrinsic manner which, far from sacrificing its strongly individual characteristics, gradually enhanced them. How uncommon this sort of evolution is within the jazz milieu can be judged by noticing how often even the most promising musicians have (whether because of too much popularity or not enough) minimized the exploratory aspect of their playing and rested on their laurels. Usually this means placing less faith in improvisation and more in repetition. Lee Konitz, by contrast, was a firm believer in improvisation, as could be heard every single time he performed. Lee was also a long-term fan of northern Europe, visiting and recording in Scandinavia from 1951 onwards, which lent a particular appropriateness to his selection for the JAZZPAR award. In the past he had collaborated with trumpeter Allan Botschinsky, who plays a prominent part in this session, and with the great Swedish baritonist Lars Gullin, whose son Peter is heard here during "Pazzenger". In addition the saxophonist and leader of the JAZZPAR nonet, Jens Sndergaard, was a special advocate of Konitz and arranged touring and recording opportunities for Lee, to which the enclosed album represented an impressive culmination. Impressive not only for Lee's own work, of course, but because the local musicians demonstrated that the JAZZPAR scheme was a showcase for them, as much as for the international stars involved. Of the five performances with the full nonet, only "Stardust" was not deliberately created for the occasion (it was arranged by Sy Johnson for Konitz's mid-1970s group). Of the works commissioned to reflect Lee's Danish collaboration, "Partout" by Ole Kock Hansen (leader of the Danish Radio Big Band) and particularly "Leewise" by saxophonist Fredrik Lundin each have distant echoes of the Birth Of The Cool band, which in the late 1940s had placed an early spotlight on Lee's individuality. "Skygger" is a special case, featuring a spoken and sung rendition by Birgitte Frieboe of poet Peter Poulsen's tribute to Konitz, on which Lee responds typically in a setting by Copenhagen-based American pianist Butch Lacy. The previously mentioned "Pazzenger" is by fellow American Peggy Stern, Lee's regular accompanist between 1992 and 1995, who also plays on three other tracks including a quintet performance of Konitz's first recorded composition "SubconsciousLee", arranged and reharmonized by Peggy. What is noteworthy also is the series of six duo performances, not only the two with Stern (including that tightrope act on "Body and Soul"). For here is a sure confirmation of Lee's commitment to improvisation, and a reminder that over the years he has produced a greater number of excellent duos with a greater number of partners than anyone you can think of. But it is also evidence that his Danish partners, Sndergaard, Botschinsky and Jesper Lundgaard, are as capable of maturely musical contributions and responses as any of Konitz's previous illustrious collaborators. Given the vastness and variety of Lee's discography, it might be difficult to say this is one of his most unusual albums. But it was a unique of recognition of his stature, in what was then his 65th year, and it received a worthy response from the saxophonist himself.
