JAZZ : James Morrison--A Wizard From Oz

The movies have “ ‘Crocodile’ Dundee”; jazz has James Morrison.

The 25-year-old multi-instrumentalist from a small town in the Australian outback has long since conquered his native land; during several visits to the United States (he spent five months here last year), audiences at clubs in major cities have marveled at his mastery of the trombone, trumpet, euphonium, fluegelhorn, alto saxophone and piano.

At Dick Gibson’s annual jazz party in Denver, last year and again this month, the general reaction left little doubt that he could be the next jazz superstar.

Although the first American release of one of his albums is a couple of months away, Morrison already has provided, for many audiences in this country, a fascinating example of how a young musician can become, in his opinions as well as his performance, a symbol of the new wave in acoustic jazz.

His use of so many instruments goes back almost to the beginning of his life in music. “I began on cornet at 7, right after we’d moved to Sydney, then within a year I took up trombone, tuba, euphonium and anything else I could put my hands on; a few years later I began playing alto sax.”

Asked whether this had involved a tremendous amount of practice time, he said: “Not really. I just spent a lot of time playing with a lot of other musicians, and that meant almost all the time. I went to high school at 12, formed a school band and spent so much time rehearsing and writing arrangements that the school was sort of happy when I quit at 16. I went directly to the Conservatorium in Sydney and took a two-year course.”

A little of his talent can be attributed to heredity: “My mother plays alto sax and piano. Dad’s a TV producer. They encouraged me. When I was 9, I had a trad band and we used to play in the local shopping centers. I had no time or inclination to sit down and listen to other players, although by the time I was 16 I did begin to get a lot of records by people like Charlie Parker.”

Long before he began picking up formal knowledge at the Conservatorium, Morrison had made his professional debut. “When I was 13 I started playing night clubs, backing acts, doing dance band jobs and whatever came along. Then when I was 16 I managed to get a gig at one of the only real jazz clubs in Sydney, the Paradise Jazz Cellar. It was in the worst part of town, and I ended up playing there six hours a night, four nights a week.”

Playing both reed and brass instruments is a hazardous life for the average musician; only a handful of great jazzmen ever accomplished this successfully, yet Morrison dismisses the problem as one he simply didn’t notice. “I never even thought about having to change my embouchure; it simply seemed to me that playing the trumpet, as opposed to playing the saxophone, was just a matter of learning to use your fingers this way instead of that. I wasn’t aware of any conflict.”

First heard in the United States at the Monterey Jazz Festival in 1979, when he was 16, Morrison made his major impact here last year when the American trumpeter Red Rodney, who had heard him in Sydney, invited him to join his group. Later came a European tour that took in the big festivals (the North Sea, Montreux, Nice, Pori), at which he inevitably overwhelmed the crowds, particularly when he strode on stage, trombone in one hand, trumpet in the other, and effectively played a duet with himself. At Montreux he recorded a live session with the Polish pianist Adam Makowicz, bassist Buster Williams and drummer Al Foster; this will be released on WEA Records, as will a studio session taped in Australia.

Morrison finds nothing remarkable about his having been inspired by Dizzy Gillespie, Clifford Brown, Erroll Garner and Art Tatum rather than the fashionable fusion favorites of the day.

“I hear arguments from people of my own generation telling me that what I’m doing is something that’s already happened, and it’s up to me to play something new. I have two answers to that. First, whether it’s happened or not isn’t the point. Great music is great music. Suppose we used the same standards in dramatic arts and refused to perform Shakespeare because he’s already ‘happened’--wouldn’t that be a great loss?

“Second, the way I play my music will be different from the way other people play it. With each musician we may have some new swing, some new bop to hear.

“Australian people do tend to be blinkered and single-minded about jazz, and about the necessity for it to be new. It can be difficult for someone like me; if you just start swinging, they may put you down immediately as a mimic, or on a nostalgia trip.

“How can it be nostalgia for me? I wasn’t there!”