On a 1980 tour that he undertook with his working quartet,

saxophone, alto
1925 - 1982
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Art Pepper spent the evening of May 17 electrifying the audience at the Unitarian Universalist Congregation of Atlanta. The tour was a quickie affair—his wife and manager, Laurie, barely even noted it on her calendar. She did roll tape, however, and for her efforts, posterity can enjoy his thrilling performance with the band on the double-disc
Unreleased Art Pepper Volume Eleven: Atlanta, set for a February 19 release on Laurie Pepper’s Widow’s Taste label.
Art was at the cusp of what would be the last of many career comebacks that spring. (He died in July 1982.) This one was built on the foundation of
Straight Life, his seminal memoir (written with Laurie), which had hit shelves in December 1979. Its harrowing, honest portrayal of Art’s bouts with addiction and incarceration (“It tells all,” he promises the Atlanta audience in a plug for the book) had achieved rave reviews and impressive sales. “Art’s career and fame were suddenly greater than ever before,” notes Laurie in the CD’s liner notes. “Internationally. And he was able to tour with his own band for the first time in his life.”
Yet before the summer and fall triumphs in Europe and Japan (heard on
Unreleased Art volumes VI and VII, respectively), before the majesty of the beloved
Winter Moon session in September, there was this small, ad hoc tour through Boston, Houston, and Atlanta in April and May. Laurie was accompanying Art as his road manager, accountant, agent, band boss, and general factotum: “the jobs he didn’t want.” To those tasks, the saxophonist added a new one: He asked Laurie to buy a portable tape deck and microphone and start recording his performances.
To that request, and to Laurie’s determination to make him happy, we owe the hair-raising document that now comes before us. From the panache of “Blues for Blanche” and propulsion of “Mambo Koyama” to the rush of “Straight Life” and masterful balance of restraint and relish on “Song for Richard,” it’s clear that Art’s adventures and misadventures hadn’t depleted his artistry a bit—if anything, it added a new sense of urgency and purpose. The audience’s rapturous reception of his every tune confirms this.
Then again, his bandmates were earning their share of the rapture too. Brilliant musicians thrive in the company of their peers; Art may have been their better in terms of name recognition, but in terms of musicianship pianist
