Jodie Christian, the protean jazz pianist who bridged the hard-bop and avant-garde eras in Chicago, died early Monday morning. He had marked his 80th birthday less than two weeks ago, on February 2.
The pianist had an enormous impact on Chicago music of the last half-century. As a collaborator with Ira Sullivan in the late 1950s, and as a regular “house pianist” with visiting soloists in the decades after, he exemplified the bold and brawny Chicago approach to mainstream jazz. As a sideman for several of saxophonist Eddie Harris’s projects – including Harris’s first foray into electronics – he contributed to recordings that helped pave the way for the jazz-rock fusion. And he unassumedly mentored two generations of younger musicians who have in turn made significant contributions to the Chicago scene.
But Christian truly secured his spot in history in 1965, when he and three other Chicago musicians – Muhal Richard Abrams, Phil Cohran, and Steve McCall – initiated the discussions that became the groundbreaking Association for the Advancement of Creative Musicians. As documented in George Lewis’s AACM history A Power Stronger Than Itself, Christian’s was one of the five names that appear as signatories on the AACM charter granted by the State of Illinois on August 5, 1965.
Christian’s role in the early years of the AACM received relatively little national notice until decades later, when he began to record with some of the organization’s leading lights (primarily Roscoe Mitchell). By then, he had completely established his bona fides as a forward-thinking mainstream player – so much so that his evident comfort with free and avant-garde playing came as shock to listeners accustomed to hearing him on disc behind such straight-ahead players as saxophonists Eric Alexander, Gene Ammons, Stan Getz, and Dexter Gordon.
It was this same mix of tradition and iconoclastic freedom that made him an intriguing sparring partner for tenor great Von Freeman – whom he backed on three albums for the Danish label SteepleChase in the early 1990s – and that tied together the most eclectic of his recordings for the local Delmark Records between 1990 and 2000. Altogether, the pianist made seven albums under his own name.
While Christian’s death has been attributed to natural causes, he suffered from both chronic obstructive pulmonary disease (COPD) and Parkinson’s disease for much of the last decade. COPD forced his absence from the scene for several years, while the effects of Parkinson’s – tremors, slowness, of movement, loss of muscle integrity and flexibility – seriously affected his music. Gone were the sparkling, speedy melody lines and thick harmonies that made him a first-call bandmate throughout the 50s, 60s, and 70s.
But the spare melodies that took the place of his one-time intensity had a quiet perfection, retaining the essence of Christian’s deep musicality with a fraction of the notes. In his last public appearances – a monthly showcase (2010-2011) at Katerina’s in the North Center neighborhood, and especially in concert at the 2010 Chicago Jazz Festival – he played with less fire but equal warmth. Seasoned listeners could fill in the missing notes; on the other hand, we didn’t really need to.
In addition to his widow, Christian is survived by three sons (plus two daughters-in-law) – Jerome (and Lillian); Jodie, Jr.; and Jonathan (Bequeta) – along with seven grandchildren; and nine great-grandchildren. Funeral arrangements are pending.
Those are the facts, but Christian’s music encompassed much more than mere data. I’m still gathering my thoughts on what he meant to Chicago, to jazz in general, and to me personally; when I’ve sorted through these subjects a little more, I’ll post again.
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