EVEN THE ANDROIDS ARE EXCITED!

Ordinarily I don’t go out of my way to post gig announcements, but this one is special — it made me laugh out loud, which is always a gift.  Look for me on Wednesday night!  (And I’m hiring MPK as a press agent on Monday morning.)

“SWING OUT!”: VINCE GIORDANO and the NIGHTHAWKS (Jan. 4, 2011)

A visit to Club Cache in the Hotel Edison (221 West 46th Street) to see and hear Vince Giordano and the Nighthawks is an effective antidote to piles of grey snow and smaller (yet more lethal) piles of January bills.   

The Nighthawks (having a fine time last Tuesday, January 4) were Jon-Erik Kellso, Mike Ponella, trumpets; Jim Fryer, trombone with and without megaphone; Dan Levinson, Dan Block, Andy Farber, reeds; Andy Stein, violin and reeds; Peter Yarin, piano; Ken Salvo, banjo and guitar; Arnie Kinsella, drums; Vince, bass sax, string bass, tuba, vocals. 

Here are a number of selections — a few familiar ones, some delightful surprises, hot and sweet.

My musical education is always advanced by Vince and the boys — I hear a new arrangement or a striking hot solo, or, in this case, a song I never knew existed.  This one, OH, MISTER CARPENTER! (reminiscent of other period songs that deal with virile handymen) comes from a 1932 pre-Code film starring Lupe Velez and Lee Tracy, THE HALF NAKED TRUTH.  It also featured Franklin Pangborn, Frank Morgan, and Eugene Pallette, so you know there was plenty of gleeful overacting going on.  No overacting on the bandstand, though, and Vince takes such pride in the Nighthawks being thorough old-school professionals that he hands out charts to them that they’ve never seen before . . . and revels in the result.  As did the audience:

And here, courtesy of YouTube, is a clip from the film and a delightfully heated rendition of the song (a simple but irresistible tune which recurs through the last third of THE HALF NAKED TRUTH): 

(Notice that Vince, unlike the orchestra leader in the RKO opus, doesn’t panic when the band gets hot!  Wonderful solos here.)

How about a request from Arnie Kinsella (who gets to play his orchestra bells) — (KEEP YOUR) SUNNY SIDE UP, with a nicely idiomatic crooning vocal from Vince — as well as the rarely-heard verse.  Let that laughter come through:

 In “The People’s” key of G minor, here’s the nightly jam session — this time, THE BLUES MY NAUGHTY SWEETIE GIVES TO ME, featuring Kellso, Lavinson, Fryer, Stein, and the rhythm section.  Romp it, boys!

Hotter than that: SWING OUT! in tribute to the Luis Russell band of 1929-30, with Jim Fryer becoming J. C. Higginbotham for a minute or so:

The original recording of SHE’S A GREAT GREAT GIRL by Roger Wolfe Kahn’s 1927 orchestra might not have been a jazz landmark if a young (and quite hungover) Jack Teagarden hadn’t been asked to sub for the established master of New York trombonists, Miff Mole.  Here Jim Fryer has another set of mammoth shoes to fill, and he does it nobly; Arnie captures Vic Berton’s tympanic skills, and Andy Stein honors Maestro Venuti, too:

Many of the songs played by the Nighthawks have at least tangential relation to Pee Wee Russell and his associates, but their impromptu version of PEE WEE’S BLUES — an unusual request — featuring three clarinets (Levinson, Block, and Farber, from left to right) was a pleasure:

The audience at Club Cache usually includes the illustrious, and last Tuesday was no exception, for the swinging singer / pianist Daryl Sherman was there, enjoying the music — and contributing a great deal to the evening with her casually heartfelt reading of HOME:

I knew Eubie Blake’s famous composition CHARLESTON RAG (or SOUNDS OF AFRICA) from seeing him perform it in the last decade of his life — but I never knew there was a big band version.  Another pleasing surprise!

And the Nighthawks closed their second set with an acrobatic extravaganza from the Jimmie Lunceford book (composed and arranged by Will Hudson), WHITE HEAT.  Dig the choreography and the four clarinets:

Just another rewarding night on Restaurant Row — hot jazz, sweet dance music, and good times all around.  And catch Vince and his players in the HBO BOARDWALK EMPIRE — they’re rehearsing for a new production of MILDRED PIERCE, on flat-high-definition screens all across the country, soon!

HAPPY NEW EAR! (Jan. 2, 2011)

One of the regular features of JAZZ LIVES is my reporting on what delights occurred at The Ear Inn (326 Spring Street, Soho, New York City) on the preceding Sunday night.  Saying that I have a good time would be an understatement.   

But even I — expecting the finest kind of jazz synergy on a regular basis — was astonished by what happened on January 2, 2011.

The EarRegulars and their friends created extraordinary music last Sunday night as 2011 took hold.  I had the privilege of watching individual creative impulses coalesce into something larger, something casually magnificent — all only a few feet from my camera.      

If this seems overstatement, a kind of “witness to history” pronouncement appropriate only to breaking news, the music will explain my feelings.  I’m delighted to present some of the evening’s many highlights. 

The EarRegulars, for the first set, were a quartet of friends: Jon-Erik Kellso, trumpet; Nicki Parrott, bass; John Allred, trombone; Matt Munisteri, guitar. 

They began with OH, BABY! — a song beloved of Jazz Age Chicagoans and of Eddie Condon and friends.  Because of the season, this performance was full of sly references to wintry / holiday tunes, causing Matt to say it should have been called OH, BROTHER!  But now that I am safe from FROSTY THE SNOWMAN for another eleven months, I didn’t mind.  See if you can catch all the in-and-out jokes.  And see if you can keep from laughing at the musical frolics:

Another good old good one, AT THE JAZZ BAND BALL, reminiscent of Bix as well, could easily have been the title for this posting.  Enjoy the conversational games played so well by these four brilliant improvisers:

To cool things off a bit, Jon-Erik asked John to choose one with a trombone lead, and John suggested the timeless “rhythm ballad” THESE FOOLISH THINGS, a performance full of quiet feeling:

Early on in the evening, there were intimations of a jam session to come.  I had spotted trombonist Emily Asher sitting at one table, then saxophonist Lisa Parrott, then trumpeter Bria Skonberg.  To my right appeared (like a belated holiday gift) the cornetist Dan Tobias, who was invited to join the festivities for a romping FROM MONDAY ON:

When the first set had ended, even more musicians came in, among them the ever-faithful Dan Block, clarinet at the ready.  I chatted with another clarinet wizard, Pete Martinez, about the Albert system, Johnny Windhurst, Eddie Condon in the 1950s, Skeets Tolbert and his Gentlemen of Swing, and TISHOMINGO BLUES.  Where else but at The Ear Inn?

Later, Howard Alden came in — first to listen — and I eventually noticed the broad back of someone I didn’t recognize, but when he began to play wire brushes on the paper-covered table, I knew that he knew: it was Chuck Redd!

(In the break, the actor James Gandolfini had come in, had a drink or two, and decided not to stay — a grave mistake.  When Jeremy Irons had visited The Ear Inn some years back, he had the good sense to stick around for The EarRegulars!)

The second set was masterfully orchestrated by Maestro Kellso, who invited these friends up one at a time.  It swelled into a thirteen-piece ensemble for AFTER YOU’VE GONE (which — if you’re keeping score — began with the last eight bars — more accurately, the last sixteen played double-time, says Jon-Erik).  And please note how each jam-session performance levitates itself on a flying carpet of Kellso-driven riffs, some from Basie, some from Louis, all in the grand tradition:

Then, a more moderate approach to WHEN I GROW TOO OLD TO DREAM, an unlikely prospect for both players and audience.  In F, please:

Seeing the three trombones, Jon-Erik suggested TIGER RAG – an ecstatic romp presented here in two parts, because I couldn’t bear to lose even the final thirty-five seconds:

The last little bit (good to the last drop!):

Writing about this experience two days later, I don’t think that this music — simultaneously ecstatic and expert — needs much explication.  But more was going on at The Ear Inn than musicians stopping by to play a chorus or two. 

It was the creation of an inspired, mutually supportive community, nothing less. 

Jon-Erik, Matt, Victor Villar-Hauser (behind the bar but so much more than a mere pourer of libations), and the owners of The Ear Inn have all worked without calling attention to themselves to make 326 Spring Street on Sunday nights a remarkable place. 

It’s that rare spot where jazz musicians know they will be allowed and encouraged to play their own music with their peers.  Those of us who value such an unusual occurrence come to the Ear as if on a pilgrimage  — and the musicians feel the same way.  (In the audience but not playing were Chuck Wilson, Barbara Dreiwitz, and many others.)

And there’s more. 

In our time, where texting offers itself as equal to experience, the creation of such a community is both beautiful and special.  The sense of separateness that underlies much of our daily life disappears while the music is playing. 

“Here we are!” say the musicians.  “Come with us!”  The smiles of the players and the observers light the dark room.  And a singular cohesiveness blossoms, a solace we seek all through our waking hours without knowing it.

As the new year begins, may we all embody our work as beautifully as these musicians do.  May we  all wear our accomplishments with such easy grace.   

And while writing these words, I felt for a moment, “I have witnessed something that will never come again,” but who knows?  There’s always next Sunday at The Ear Inn, which is hopeful and uplifting. 

Eight o’clock (really seven-thirty or earlier if you like sitting). 

You come, too. 

Bring your appreciative self and something for the tip jar.  The EarRegulars will supply the joy.

SPLENDOR IN THE GRASS, or PICNIC WITH ME

A little jeu d’esprit for today:

To be precise, this is a 78 rpm “picture record” on the Vogue label, circa 1945.  Musically it is probably far removed from hot jazz, but it’s the playful Forties cheesecake that caught my eye.  This young woman, attired in clothing that manages to be both tight and short, is reclining — after a fashion — on a blanket in the middle of an undefined meadow.  Although picnics are usually informal occasions, she has on alarmingly high heels and seems to be levitating from the blanket.  (Perhaps she is lifting her legs so she doesn’t collide with the pasted-in image of bandleader Kassel, grinning somewhere under her knees.)

To her left (although she is not registering it in her field of vision) conveniently there is a small portable phonograph . . . and a large anonymous hand (parodying the Sistine Chapel ceiling?) is offering her a phonograph record-replica of the larger scene, complete with lovely young woman and generous hand. 

The mind reels, and the recording isn’t even spinning.

DOODLE DOO DOO indeed.

DROP THAT SACK!

Before the words begin to flow, here’s some convincing evidence, courtesy of my videographer friend Elin Smith — Thomas Winteler’s Jazz Serenaders with Bent Persson playing POTATO HEAD BLUES, recorded at the 2010 Whitley Bay International Jazz Festival:

Thomas and his Jazz Serenaders have recorded DROP THAT SACK! — a CD of music associated with Louis and Sidney Bechet, including their collaborations and ending with two songs associated with later Bechet.  The songs are ONCE IN A WHILE / ALLIGATOR CRAWL / SAVOY BLUES / ORIENTAL STRUT / TEXAS MOANER / DROP THAT SACK! / OLD-FASHIONED LOVE / BIG FAT MA AND SKINNY PA / PUT ‘EM DOWN BLUES / NOBODY KNOWS YOU WHEN YOU’RE DOWN AND OUT / DON’T FORGET TO MESS AROUND / PERDIDO STREET BLUES / DOWN IN HONKY TONK TOWN / STRANGE FRUIT / VIPER MAD / PETITE FLEUR.

The musicians are Thomas, clarinet, soprano sax; Bent Persson, trumpet, cornet;  Rodolphe Compomizzi, trombone;  Jean-Claude “Lou” Lauprete, piano; 
Pierre-Alain Maret, banjo, guitar; Henry Lemaire, bass; Jean Lavorel, drums.

I hadn’t heard or heard of Thomas before the 2010 festival, but Bent Persson made a special point of recommending him to me — and when Bent recommends another musician, I take it seriously.  Thomas is a superb player; like Bent, he understands not only the records but the idiom, and can nimbly become Bechet or Johnny Dodds while sounding like himself — no small accomplishment.  And the CD is a delightful representation both of the Masters and of the twenty-first century musicians doing them honor.  It’s always a pleasure to hear some of the less-recorded Hot Five and Hot Seven material, and this band is able to summon up the deep melancholy of STRANGE FRUIT as well as the jubilant elevation of VIPER MAD.

Ideally, one would buy a copy of the CD from Thomas at a gig, but for those who aren’t flying around Europe in search of the real thing, the financial details are:

Send your address and 30 swiss francs or 22 euros to :    Thomas Winteler    ch. du levant 10B    1299 Crans-près-Céligny    Switzerland (the price includes postal costs)

You can find out more about Thomas and his friends (including his substantial discography complete with music clips) at his website, http://www.winteler-music.ch/. 

Finally, some speculative etymology.  I think with affection of the Czech novelist Josef Skvorecky, who wrote in his novel THE COWARDS (or his novella THE BASS SAXOPHONE) of his difficulties with jazz-related English (he was a youthful amateur tenor player during the Second World War): encountering “Struttin’ With Some Barbecue” for the first time, he was puzzled by the word-by-word translation: could it really mean “Walking pompously with an animal carcass roasted whole”? 

I have the same feelings about “Drop that sack!”  Is it really an old-time racially-based joke about chicken-stealing, or did it mean, “Let’s get out of here” or “Get rid of that unattractive person”? 

It adds something to the resonance of the words that DROP THAT SACK was one of the two titles that Louis recorded “anonymously” with Lil’s Hot Shots for a competing label while he was under contract to OKeh — trying to hide Louis’s conception and sound would be like pretending the great Chicago Fire wasn’t burning . . . . but I wonder if there are hidden meanings to the expression, just as we later learned that “Struttin’ with some barbecue” was a pre-PC way of saying, “Walking proudly with my beautiful girlfriend.” 

Suggestions, anyone?

DO YOU SPEAK BIX? (ANDY SCHUMM and his BIXOLOGISTS at WHITLEY BAY 2010)

The title is not as fanciful as it seems.  Bix Beiderbecke lived in and created his own world, much as Lester Young did — and it had its own private musical language.  Think of the special break on SOMEBODY STOLE MY GAL, the modulation into the vocal on SUNDAY, and more.  So when a group of musicians get together to play the Bix-and-Tram repertoire, it’s especially rewarding when they know all the curves in the road and share all the musical in-jokes.

This playful unity happens whenever Andy Schumm gets to lead a group of his musical intimates, and it was especially in evidence at his closing session at the Whitley Bay International Jazz Festival in the summer of 2010.  Here are the remaining nine performances from that set.  The musicians are Andy, cornet and piano; Paul Munnery, trombone; Norman Field, reeds and vocal; Keith Nichols, piano and vocal; Spats Langham, banjo, guitar, vocal; Frans Sjostrom, bass saxophone; Josh Duffee, drums and vocal; Nick Ward, drums.

Josh tells the tale on THERE AIN’T NO LAND LIKE DIXIELAND TO ME:

And here’s DEEP DOWN SOUTH, edging towards its proper ballad tempo:

When the sun goes down and the tide goes out . . . all the percussionists assemble for a choke-cymbal conversation (that’s Nick Ward to the right) on MISSISSIPPI MUD:

The band-within-a-band pays homage to Bix, Tram, and Lang on WRINGIN’ AND TWISTIN’:

Have you received your packet of seeds?  Political commentary aside, I wish that ev’rybody was doin’ it now, the WA-DA-DA way:

Thinking of the glorious Jean Goldkette band in 1927 with SUNDAY:

Now that we all know how to pronounce CLEMENTINE (she comes from New Orleans), let’s hear Norman Field sing about her charms:

Watch Spats Langham become the whole Paul Whiteman Orchestra on CHANGES:

Andy and the Bixologists offered a splendidly rocking SORRY to conclude:

I’d call these musicians (and singers) post-doctorate linguists, wouldn’t you?

DAN BLOCK JOINS IN!

The ever-surprising reedman, composer, bandleader, occasional singer and trumpeter Dan Block has joined us . . . in cyberspace with his own website, Dan Block Music: http://www.danblockmusic.com/., which features his gig schedule, videos (some of which you might have seen here), reviews and press quotes, ways to buy his CDs, even contact information if you’d like to have Dan play your next party or help you become a better bass clarinetist.

Welcome, Dan!  May your stats be high; may your subscribers be worldwide.