KCOU JAZZ
Feb. 23, 2025
This playlist explores tracks with titles that don’t quite sound like real words. Each song title is a puzzle waiting to be deciphered.
Songs Included
Bill Evans Trio | Nardis | Explorations (1961)★
A gem in the catalogue, this tune is tricky in both name and ownership status. Although credited to Miles Davis in 1958, Nardis is a modal tune famously never recorded by its composer. Originally written for Cannonball Adderley’s album Portait of Cannonball, the song instead became deeply associated with pianist Bill Evans, who performed it regularly for decades and shaped its legacy into his own.
According to accounts from the session with Adderley, Miles said that Evans was “the only one to play it the way he wanted,” underscoring how Evans unlocked the tune’s subtle complexity. This connection adds tension to the song’s already murky authorship. In this version, Evans and his trio stretch the form with introspective pacing and space, shaping the song into a haunting meditation. Evans’ piano feels almost argumentative—dialogic and unsettled.
As for it’s title: Nardis remains an enigma. Some claim it's a play on Evans’ self-description as “an artist,” filtered through a New Jersey accent. Others read it as Sidran backwards (referencing Ben Sidran). Whatever the truth, Nardis remains one of jazz music’s most evocative mysteries.
Bobby Hutcherson | Yuyo | Montara (1975)
In Yuyo, vibraphonist Bobby Hutcherson blends latin grooves with bright melodic phrasing. The tune’s title may look mysterious, but
yuyo is a Spanish word used in Argentina and Uruguay to describe wild herbs or medicinal plants. Though Hutcherson never confirmed a direct connection, the tune evokes something earthy, healing, and untamed. Driven by congas, flutes, and a sunlit rhythm section, Yuyo naturally grows toward unified refrains.
Toco | Zum Zum | Outro Lugar (2004)
“Zum Zum” is a lively track whose title aptly captures its spirit. Written by Brazilian artist Toco, “Zum Zum” adopts the Portuguese word referring to hubbub or buzzing chatter, and the song lives up to the name. As the Toco chants “zum zum zum,” the music unfurls like a boulevard of sound in motion, full of layered rhythms, playful vocals, and tropical flair. With whistles, trombone, and vocals, this is a prime cut of bossa nova.
Miles Davis | Budo | Birth of the Cool (1957)
A standout from Birth of the Cool, Budo layers meaning in both title and style. The jumpy bebop tune is
named as a nod to its co-writer Bud Powell. Although Al Haig plays piano on this recording, Bud is still honored as a major figure in bebop and a friend of Davis through this composition. From a more abstract lens,
Budo is also a Japanese term meaning “the martial way,” referring to the philosophy behind martial arts. With its sharp phrasing and tight ensemble interplay, this piece bridges both interpretations.
The result is a tune steeped between respectful discipline and poignant spontaneity, making itself a representative of cool jazz precision cloaked in mystery.
Donald Byrd | Kofi | Kofi (1995)
“Kofi” is a soulful, sonic exploration from trumpeter Donald Byrd. Anchored by Ron Carter’s bass and elevated by a stunning jazz flute performance from Lew Tabackin, the tune sails like ship through shifting winds. Here, Byrd is a strong captain, guiding his crew through a nearly 8-minute scorcher. The title, Kofi, is a Ghanaian name traditionally given to boys born on a Friday. Whether Byrd intended that meaning or had something else in mind remains unknown,
but the title’s mystery makes it a fitting inclusion in this set of cryptic jazz compositions.
Wayne Shorter | Fee-Fi-Fo-Fum | Speak No Evil (1966)
Wayne Shorter’s “Fee-Fi-Fo-Fum” borrows its title from the mythical chant of Jack and the Beanstalk’s villainous giant. The phrase evokes mystery, size, and looming presence: apt metaphors for this heavyweight ensemble. Shorter leads jazz titans Freddie Hubbard, Herbie Hancock, Ron Carter, and Elvin Jones through a slow, deliberate march across shifting chord changes. With its lumbering rhythm and towering personnel, Fee-Fi-Fo-Fum stands tall among jazz’s most cryptic and evocative titles.
Ike Quebec | Shu Shu | Bossa Nova Soul Samba (1962)
“Shu Shu” is a breezy, understated groove from tenor saxophonist Ike Quebec. Taken from his final studio recorded album recorded just months before his death, this title comes packaged in dark mystery. Possibly onomatopoeic, Shu Shu could be echoing Kenny Burrell’s foreboding opening notes, Quebec’s soft phrasing or Willie Bobo’s brushed percussion. In this tune, warm saxophone melody leads laid-back cross-stick and guitar, creating a mood that whispers rather than shouts, gently hushing listeners.
Max Roach | Effi | Members Don’t Get Weary (1968) ★
Another standout in the collection, “Effi” draws intrigue not only from its cryptic title but also from its driving musical conversation. Recorded in June 1968 for drummer and virtuoso Max Roach’s Members Don’t Get Weary, the track features rising talents Charles Tolliver, Gary Bartz, Stanley Cowell, and seasoned bassist Jymie Merritt.
The tune opens with a brief hard‑bop–inflected theme before shifting into a restless, modal groove. Bartz and Tolliver weave searing horn lines like salmon leaping upstream against Roach’s tumbling, assertive drum pulse. Roach creates a brooding, yet focused atmosphere with this tune, and echoes a musical call to perseverance, a major theme of the Civil Rights Era themes of the album. Roach leds this ensemble with clarity and command, organizing chaos with purpose and drive.
As for the title: Effi has no confirmed meaning, but in Greek, it’s a diminuitive of Euphemia, meaning “well-spoken.” Perhaps in such a layered and avant-garde composition, Roach intended his players to remain just that. Potent in emotion and unresolved in form, Effi celebrates ambiguity and tension.
Kokoroko | Adwa | Kokoroko (2019)
“Adwa,” by London-based Afrobeat collective Kokoroko closes this set of mysteriously named jazz pieces. The song’s title references the town of Adwa in northern Ethiopia, where Ethiopian forces triumphed over Italian colonizers in the 1896. The track itself feels strong and driven, blending cultural memory with Kokoroko’s signature groove. As lush horns rise over hypnotic rhythms, “Adwa” becomes a fitting finale—grounded in legacy, rich with mystery, and alive with spirit.