First Songs

Charlie Haden’s original ballad “First Song” appears on so many recordings that you might suspect it was a legal—if not moral—obligation for the legendary bassist to revisit the tune anytime he found himself within ten feet of a microphone.

First recorded by Haden with his band Quartet West in 1988 on the album In Angel City, the piece—originally a paean to his wife, Ruth Cameron—later turns up on collaborations with guitarists Jim Hall and Pat Metheny, drummer Paul Motian, Brazilian multi-instrumentalist Egberto Gismonti, pianists Gonzalo Rubalcaba and Enrico Pieranunzi, vocalist Kurt Elling, and French woodwind player André Jaume. Forgive me if I’ve overlooked a few encounters. (Renditions without Haden include those by Stan Getz and Abbey Lincoln.)

Despite the song’s ubiquity—and how much it clearly meant to Haden—it’s not my favorite among his often intriguing compositions. While ostensibly pretty, “First Song” feels a bit too consciously plaintive and thin to me. I’ll take Haden’s rousing “Song for Che” or the haunting, if unfortunately titled, “Chairman Mao” any day. Still, when approached in the right spirit—and more importantly, at an alert tempo—“First Song” can reveal its (to me) rather hidden charms.

On his most recent album, The Surrounding Green (released this past June), pianist and bandleader Fred Hersch—supported by the superlative rhythm team of bassist Drew Gress and drummer Joey Baron—delivers a satisfying version of “First Song” that, in its sincerity and focus, serves as an earnest tribute to Haden, who died in 2014.

Not to be snarky, but it doesn’t hurt that this version sidesteps Haden’s melody until nearly the end of the performance. Hersch’s “First Song” begins unexpectedly with an extended, unaccompanied bass solo—Gress’s own tip of the hat to Haden. Thoughtful and deliberate in the Haden manner, though never imitative, Gress alludes to the original melody just before Hersch and Baron enter.

Then Hersch, at his most lyrical and with his delicate touch on full display, eases directly into his improvisation. A paragon of spontaneous song when inspired, he spins his own tale within the harmonic framework of Haden’s composition, withholding the primary melody until the final chorus. Baron, as usual, is a model of open-eared sensitivity throughout.

If not slavishly faithful to Haden’s original vision, Hersch and company nevertheless transform their own inventions into garlands of honor. Glancing back while pressing forward, this is the kind of “First Song” I can really get behind.