Today, while by no means rich or world famous, Mingus is a man highly respected by an increasing coterie. His music has settled into a groove that is at once funk-rooted, far-reaching and emotionally stimulating.

Mingus, as a person, has changed, too. Though there remains in him a latent streak of defiant anger, much of which is reflected in his music, he takes no active delight in putting anyone or anything down.

Because it would be unfair to Mingus and the reader to whittle down his comments, they have been split into two installments. The second segment, which will appear in the next issue, includes a long afterthought about Ornette Coleman. Mingus was given no information about the records played.

The Records

1. Manny Albam. "Blues For Amy" (from Something New, Something Blue; Columbia). Teo Macero, composer.

Take it off…Look, I don’t want to drag you or anybody. I don’t think maybe you should give me a Blindfold Test, because I’ve changed. I didn’t let it get started—maybe that’s not fair of me? But it disturbs my ulcer. I’d rather talk about something important—all the stuff that’s happening down south.

2. Clifford Brown. "Stockholm Sweetnin’" (from Clifford Brown Memorial; Prestige). Arne Domnerus, alto; Art Farmer, Clifford Brown, trumpet; Lars Gullin, baritone; Bengt Hallberg, piano; Gunnar Johnson, bass; Jack Noren, drums; Quincy Jones, composer. Recorded in Stockholm, Sweden, in 1953.

I heard a trumpet player up in the front that sounded like Art Farmer. The second solo? I don’t think I liked it as much as the first. Not that it matters…My opinion doesn’t matter much. What’s Lee Konitz doing on a record with these guys?…The rhythm section has no guts at all.

The baritone player sure has a lot of warmth; could it have been Gerry Mulligan? It’s not an inspiring performance on the whole. I didn’t hear the second trumpet player playing any parts in the ensemble; it’s like they wrote it for one trumpet, then this guy walked in the studio and they said, "Why don’t you blow one, man?"

The tune is Quincy Jones’ tune—he knows what will go, knows what he’d like to do, and he always writes what he knows will sell. And what guys can play. I know he does this—we discussed it together seven or eight years ago, before he became successful. And he was wondering why I always wrote so hard and never got it played, and I was wondering why he wrote so simple and got it played.

Well, I just like Art Farmer so very much—that little airy sound he gets in the front of the notes—I like him even if he is old fashioned and doesn’t know it. He became old-fashioned about two years ago. But he’s going to come up with something—you watch what he’ll be doing a year from now.

I’ll give it five for Art, if you don’t mind—and Gerry Mulligan if that’s who it is.

3. George Shearing. "Chelsea Bridge" (from Satin Brass; Capitol). Jimmy Jones, arranger.

People used to think Louis Armstrong was putting everybody on when he said he liked Guy Lombardo. But I think he really sincerely like Guy. Because I’m beginning to feel that way. Some cats simply should play like Lombardo and not try anything else. Because that’s not them if they don’t; that’s not their soul. And I think that applies to this.

If that’s Gil Evans, I’m sorry—that applies to this. I’ve heard some things he did with Miles that were better. Usually I like Gil—I don’t know what happened on this thing. Maybe he has too much work to do and has to turn it out very fast. Or maybe that’s the worst track on the record, because I know you do that, sometimes.

The tune is something that’s been done a million ti