The Undisputed King of Jazz Guitar
Before he became a radio staple, Wes Montgomery was a god in the jazz world. Emerging from Indianapolis, he was a musician's musician, revered for a revolutionary technique that was entirely his own. He didn't use a pick; instead, he used the fleshy part
of his thumb, producing a warm, gentle, and utterly unique tone. His calling card was his masterful use of octaves—playing the same note in two different registers simultaneously—a technique so difficult it left other guitarists in awe. Albums from his early career on the Riverside label, like "The Incredible Jazz Guitar of Wes Montgomery," are considered sacred texts by jazz purists, showcasing a virtuosic improviser at the peak of his powers. But for all the critical acclaim, Montgomery was still a working musician with a large family to support, and fame didn't always translate to financial stability.
The Creed Taylor Formula
Enter Creed Taylor, a producer with a golden ear and a keen sense of the marketplace. Taylor saw a path to make jazz not just respected, but popular. His formula was straightforward: take a brilliant jazz instrumentalist, pair them with a popular song of the day, and wrap it all in a lush, orchestral arrangement that was palatable for mainstream radio. He believed Montgomery's genius could reach a much wider audience if presented in a more accessible context. The first major test of this partnership was the 1966 album "Goin' Out of My Head." Taylor brought Montgomery the title track, a hit by the R&B group Little Anthony and the Imperials. Montgomery was reportedly skeptical, looking at Taylor as if he'd lost his mind. But Taylor convinced him to see past the doo-wop original and appreciate the song's strong melodic structure, perfect for improvisation.
Success, Grammys, and Controversy
"Goin' Out of My Head" was a smash. The album won a Grammy Award and sold close to a million copies, transforming Montgomery from a respected jazz figure into a household name. This success kicked off a series of commercially oriented albums for the Verve and A&M labels, including interpretations of pop hits by The Beatles, The Mamas & the Papas, and more. His 1967 album, "A Day in the Life," climbed to No. 1 on the Billboard jazz chart and even cracked the Top 15 on the main album chart. To the public, Wes was on top of the world. But in the jazz world, a debate raged. Critics and purists felt he had traded his artistic soul for commercial gain, deriding the new sound as "pop-jazz" or easy listening. They argued that the polished arrangements left little room for the fiery improvisation that had defined his earlier work.
The Artist's Crossroads
The "untold" part of the story lies in Montgomery's own feelings about this chapter of his career. While some accounts suggest he was a reluctant participant doing it only for the money, others paint a more nuanced picture. Producer Creed Taylor recalled that once Montgomery was in the studio and heard the arrangements, he was "beaming from ear to ear." Arranger Don Sebesky stated that Montgomery was happy and welcomed the opportunity to expand his fanbase, which grew exponentially. And it's true that even on his pop records, Montgomery never lost his signature tone or melodic grace. However, the narrative of artistic sacrifice persisted, with some close to him implying the pressure contributed to his stress. He was a man who had worked as a welder to support his family, and now he was a star. The truth is likely somewhere in the middle: he was a pragmatic artist who found a way to achieve massive success while, in the eyes of many, simplifying his profound art.
