We can celebrate and mourn at the same time, and the combination feels right today, because Eddy Davis — imaginative, unpredictable, magical, mysterious — would have been eighty today, September 26, 2020. Yes, he went away, but he is never far from us.
Eddy Davis and Conal Fowkes, Cafe Bohemia, Dec. 26, 2019.
I offer a triple homage: to Eddy, his hand a blur, his mouth open in song; to Jelly Roll Morton; to the good old New York that we had before the pandemic so altered our lives. Here are Eddy and friends, Jon-Erik Kellso, trumpet; Evan Arntzen, clarinet; Conal Fowkes, string bass, at Cafe Bohemia, 15 Barrow Street, Greenwich Village, New York, where joy flourished regularly:
I look forward to a future where we can once again gather joyously. How I’ll bring my easy chair along is a problem, but perhaps they can be provided.
I think if Bill de Blasio knew about this video, he would make it the Official New York Song of Welcome. It has everything, doesn’t it? Joy, playfulness, knife and fork, bottle and a cork, waiters crossing to and fro . . . and glorious hot music. All of this happened at Fraunces Tavern (54 Pearl Street) at their regular Saturday jazz brunch, on July 25. 2015.
Music provided by Rob Adkins, string bass; Craig Ventresco, guitar; Mike Davis, cornet; guest luminary Tamar Korn, cosmic-traveler. The song is a late Jelly Roll Morton composition (1940?) GOOD OLD NEW YORK:
Even if you were feeling good before this, don’t you feel better?
Although Tamar Korn hails from Long Beach, California, she has deep roots in New York City — something evident in her choice of material. Here are two ancient paeans to Gotham exuberance sung by Tamar and her friends, bassist Rob Adkins and pianist Michael Coleman during their Sunday afternoon gig at Casa Mezcal on Orchard Street in that very same city, December 14, 2014.
The first song may be more famous to jazz fans because it is a Jelly Roll Morton composition — late in his career, perhaps representing his final attempt to make this cruel city fall at his feet. The melodic line is simple but inescapable, and the cheerfully simple lyrics stay in the mind long after more subtle ones have become dim.
and here are Tamar, Michael, and Rob:
Another Gotham ode, this one from 1931, is DO THE NEW YORK — a much more Art Deco supercharged composition, with an appropriately delightful unaccompanied verse from Tamar. The composers are listed as J.P. Murray, Barry Trivers, Ben Oakland — which I find pleasing, because Oakland was a distant cousin on my mother’s side (I believe the original family name was Auslander). But enough genealogy: here’s the exuberant performance:
Thanks to Michael and Rob for their swinging individualities. And I know that we are grateful that a brightly-colored bird (species Tamar Korn) has decided to perch in New York and gladden our lives.
Those names refer to the splendid young pianist Ehud Asherie, the inimitable tenor saxophonist Harry Allen. They were celebrating in a cozy corner of the Hotel Kitano’s bar last Thursday — celebrating the release of their new quartet CD, MODERN LIFE, for the Posi-Tone label. At the Kitano, they were joined by master timekeepers Chuck Riggs, drums; Clovis Nicolas, bass (Joel Forbes is on the CD but couldn’t make the party).
“Music speaks louder than words,” Charlie Parker told a rather befuddled Earl Wilson, and I will follow his direction. If these performances need explication, do let me know . . .
Ehud began with a composition of his own (also on the CD) — ONE FOR V. It’s based on the chords of OLD-FASHIONED LOVE (by James P. Johnson) — homage not only to James P., one of Ehud’s heroes, but also to the Swing / Bop habit of composing new lines over familiar chord changes:
Given the problems of urban mass transit, Ehud cleverly offered his own solution, THE TROLLEY SONG — which some will associate with Judy Garland, others with that New Jersey marvel, Donald Lambert:
Most people think of Bud Powell as the master of fleet keyboard lines — not as a composer of love songs, pledges of eternal devotion. Harry and Ehud make the most tender promises, musically, in Bud’s I’LL KEEP LOVING YOU:
Here’s a World War Two episode in popular culture, a song whose title I hope is irrelevant, GOTTA DO SOME WAR WORK (featured by the Cootie Williams band featuring the same young Bud Powell):
As a solo feature, Ehud honored one of the masters of the piano and popular song, Eubie Blake, with a lovely, varied reading of LOVE WILL FIND A WAY:
Here’s the pretty tune Teddy Wilson chose as the theme for his wonderful but short-lived 1940-1 big band, IT’S THE LITTLE THINGS THAT MEAN SO MUCH:
And, as a jaunty set-closer, Ehud called SOMEBODY LOVES ME:
Glinda the Good Witch was right: there is no place like home.
Especially when “home” is defined loosely as the places where you are made to feel welcome.
The Ear Inn (326 Spring Street in New York City) is just such a place. I know all about it — from the warm hello I got from Victor, who knows all there is to know about English gardens to the friendliness of Jim and Grace Balantic, to the hot jazz that the EarRegulars played that night.
The EarRegulars began as a conversation among four jazz friends: Jon-Erik Kellso and Matt Munisteri, co-founders; John Allred and Jon Burr, charter members. (One of the musicians that night essayed the appropriate joke: “Three Jo(h)ns — no waiting!”) And Harvey Tibbs and Dan Block, faithful and true, came to join the festivities. Here’s some of what I basked in that night:
Jon-Erik pointed out that August 29, as well as being Charlie Parker’s birthday, was also the fifth anniversary of Hurricane Katrina. He has a special fondness for New Orleans, and called a number of tunes that had connections to that city.
Here’s a song that leaps into your lap and says YES — ‘DEED I DO:
JUMPIN’ AT THE WOODSIDE where, if you look closely, you’ll see Jon-Erik playing air trombone (to fit in with the general sliding going on) and hear John Allred sing a few high-pitched countermelodies — everyone having a wonderful time:
MANDY, MAKE UP YOUR MIND began with the verse — played as a duet for trumpet and guitar — before the jamming on the more well-known chorus began:
NEW ORLEANS, written by Hoagy Carmichael, sung by Louis and Jimmy Rushing, among others, got a beautifully pensive treatment:
THAT DA DA STRAIN went back to the New Orleans Rhythm Kings — recorded first in the very early Twenties and still a very lively piece of jazz history:
And the way that everyone wrapped up the evening was a collective improvisatory musing on the question that continues to be central to philosophical and ontological inquiries, HOW COME YOU DO ME LIKE YOU DO DO DO (I Ain’t Done Nothing To You)? It’s such a deep issue that the EarRegulars took a long time to consider the issue and its implications:
JAZZ LIVES 