An Anthem in an Odd Meter
If you know one jazz instrumental, there’s a good chance it’s “Take Five.” That cool, hypnotic piano vamp, the slinking saxophone melody, and a rhythm that feels just slightly off-kilter. Recorded in 1959 by the Dave Brubeck Quartet, it became the best-selling
jazz single of all time. But the man whose name is on the quartet wasn't the song's champion. In fact, he wasn't even its author. The tune was penned by the group’s alto saxophonist, the famously witty and lyrical Paul Desmond. The song was born from a challenge. Drummer Joe Morello, known for his technical prowess, had been toying with a beat in a tricky 5/4 time signature, a rhythm he would often play backstage. Brubeck, always pushing musical boundaries, encouraged his bandmates to experiment with the unconventional rhythms they had encountered on a State Department tour through Eurasia. He specifically tasked Desmond with writing a melody over Morello's odd-metered groove. The result was an instant classic, but its path to legendary status was far from guaranteed.
A Leader's Skepticism
The headline's claim that Brubeck "turned down" the song is a slight dramatization of a more nuanced reality: he was deeply skeptical. According to Brubeck's own retelling, Desmond came to him with two distinct, beautiful melodies but felt he couldn't complete the song. He was stuck. “I can’t write a tune in 5/4,” Desmond said, ready to give up. Brubeck, seeing the potential, helped structure the parts into the A-A-B-A form that became the final song. But his primary hesitation wasn't just its fragmented creation. The entire piece was conceived as a vehicle for a drum solo, a showcase for Joe Morello. Brubeck, the pianist and leader, looked at the composition and reportedly complained that there wasn't a section for him to solo over. For him, it felt more like a novelty than a fully-fledged quartet piece. This wasn't outright rejection, but the hesitation of a bandleader who was meticulously protective of the group's sound and structure. Columbia Records executives were even more resistant, telling Brubeck an album of songs with bizarre time signatures that you couldn't dance to would never sell.
The Reluctant Hit
Despite the doubts, “Take Five” was recorded and placed on the 1959 album Time Out, a record composed entirely of original tunes with experimental time signatures. It was a huge risk. The record label had so little faith that they initially released a single with “Blue Rondo à la Turk” as the A-side. “Take Five” was relegated to the B-side, often the graveyard for forgotten tracks. But then something remarkable happened. Radio DJs, particularly in Cleveland and Chicago, started flipping the record over. Listeners began calling in, requesting the strange, infectious B-side. The public’s reaction was so overwhelming that it forced the label to recognize they had a grassroots hit on their hands. “Take Five” defied all commercial logic, climbing the pop charts and becoming the first jazz single to sell a million copies. The success validated Brubeck's belief in pushing boundaries, but it was the public and a few adventurous DJs who truly made the song a phenomenon.
A Legacy and a Lifeline
While Dave Brubeck became an international icon, “Take Five” became inextricably linked to Paul Desmond. It was his signature tune, the piece that would define his sound for generations of listeners. More than that, it became his financial lifeline. In an act of incredible foresight and generosity, Desmond arranged his will so that upon his death, all future royalties from his compositions, including the massive earnings from “Take Five,” would go to the American Red Cross. Since his passing in 1977, the song has generated millions for the charity, with estimates of over $100,000 per year. It’s a quiet legacy of philanthropy built on the back of a song that almost didn't happen. The tune that Dave Brubeck was unsure of ended up not only cementing his quartet’s place in history but also providing a perpetual gift to the world, long after the music stopped for its brilliant composer.
