Tag Archives: YouTube

HE HAS RHYTHM. AND OTHERS DO AS WELL.

When Louis Armstrong states I GOT RHYTHM, who among us would doubt it?  Here, he uses the Gershwin song to introduce the members of his very energized (and brotherly) Chicago band:

complete with comic ending.

And for those looking for the perfect t-shirt design, may I propose this?  You won’t start many conversations on the street, but those motivated to speak to you because of this shirt will certainly be people with whom you have deep matters in common:

LOUIS I Got Rhythm

Thanks, once again, to eBay and YouTube for making multi-media presentations possible — honoring Louis is always rhythmically satisfying.

May your happiness increase!

HOW FAR IS IT TO NÎMES?

I need Google Maps, or maybe Mapquest, to figure out the distance. Because on the evidence of this and an earlier video clip, that French city is the place to be for Hot!

Here’s what the descriptive summary says beneath the latest YouTube video by washboardist Jeff Guyot and noble pals:

AU PUB O’FLAHERTY’S A NÎMES LE 8 JANVIER 2014 AVEC

Michel BASTIDE(ct) DANIEL HUCK (sax & vocal)Jean-François BONNEL (sax tenor,tp,cl)Bernard ANTHERIEU (Cl)Philippe GUIGNIER (Bj) Patrice AVIET(B) Jeff GUYOT (Wb)

Vidéo: Armand YEPES

Which I translate (!) as Armand Yepes, my French brother, went to O’Flaherty’s Pub on January 8, 2014, and recorded a band with some allegiance to the Hot Antic Jazz Band and the Anachronic Jazz Band romping through AVALON: Michel Bastide, cornet; Daniel Huck, saxophone and ecstatic vocal; Jean-Francois Bonnel, my hero, on tenor saxophone; Bernard Antherieu, clarinet; Philippe Guignier, banjo; Partrice Aviet, string bass; Jeff Guyot, washboard.  Not only are the solos delightful, but the riffs (listen, for instance, behind Antherieu) and the general ebullience . . . priceless.  And my Facebook pals were having a serious debate the other day about their favorite male vocalist — may I ask that the name of DANIEL HUCK be inscribed in anyone’s list in capital letters?

How do you say WOW! in French?

May your happiness increase!

IT HAPPENS IN MONTEREY (March 7-9, 2014)

These two worthies found love at the Jazz Bash by the Bay:

I am not proposing that everyone who goes to this year’s festival (March 7-9) will come away with the Love of His / Her Life — maybe you are all already spoken for.

But the music will be wonderful. And I write this as someone who’s been there since 2010.

For me, the Jazz Bash by the Bay was a transformative experience.

I had not been to California since having been conceived there . . . . insert your own witticism here. And when I had the notion in March 2010 of going to see and hear the people I so admired in their video appearances, I expected to have a good time in a new jazz setting, perhaps make a few new friends.

It was a life-altering experience: I came back to New York and said to the Beloved, “I’ve never had such a good time in my life. Do you think we could spend the summer in California?”

Fast forward to 2014, where I am writing this from Novato, with serious plans to make the Golden State my retirement home.

So if the Jazz Bash by the Bay can make one couple find love; if it can make a native New Yorker say, “I’ll move to California,” I think its powers are . . . powerful.  But enough personal narratives.  What’s in store for you?

As always, a wide variety of well-played music.

You can visit the site to find out if Your Favorite Band is going to be there, but here are some kinds of music that will be played: blazing stride piano in solo and duo, boogie-woogie, sweet singing in so many forms, rocking small-band swing, New Orleans ensemble polyphony, trad, Dixieland, blues, zydeco, gypsy swing, classic songs from the Great American Songbook, Jazz Age hot dance music, ragtime piano, stomp, swing, music to dance to, San Francisco jazz, washboard rhythm, music to hold hands to.

And the stars?  Well . . . Ray Skjelbred, High Sierra, Carl Sonny Leyland, Bob Draga, Rebecca Kilgore Trio, Dan Barrett, Ivory and Gold, Ellis Island Boys, Marc Caparone, Le Jazz Hot, Jeff Hamilton, Dawn Lambeth, Virginia Tichenor, Marty Eggers, Yve Evans, Katie Cavera, Paul Mehling, Clint Baker, Stephanie Trick, Paolo Alderighi, Frederick Hodges, Jim Buchmann, Eddie Erickson, Jason Wanner, John Cocuzzi, Howard Miyata, Big Mama Sue, Ed Metz, the Au Brothers, Bob Schulz, Pieter Meijers, Brady McKay, Tom Rigney, Royal Society Jazz Orchestra . . . and more, and more.

Important links.

The BAND LINEUP.

The all-important too-Much-Of-A-Good-Thing-Is-Wonderful SCHEDULE, which calls for careful planning (“If I go to see X, then I have to miss part of Y, but it puts me in a good place to be right up front for Z.  Anyone have a Tylenol?”) — with four or five sessions going on at the same time.

And most important — with a Sidney Catlett drum roll or a Vic Berton tympani flourish — the GET TICKETS NOW page.

I try to hold down the didactic tendencies that four decades of standing in front of sleepy (good-natured) young men and women have solidified, but I hope readers will permit me this basic logic exercise.  Festivals where people buy tickets last forever.  Festivals where people don’t vanish.  And then there is a wailing and a gnashing of teeth — very hard on the neighbors and harder on the dental work.  I think of the California festivals that have moved into The Great Memory even in my short acquaintanceship with this state.

(Or, as William Carlos Williams — or was it Philip Larkin? — wrote: “Want it to stay?  Do not delay.”)

So I hope to see throngs of friends and even strangers at the Jazz Bash by the Bay.  Anything that makes live jazz in profusion go on is a good thing.

P.S.  Need more evidence?  Go to YouTube and type in “Dixieland Monterey,” or “Jazz Bash by the Bay,” or the name of your favorite artist.  I, Rae Ann Berry, and Tom Warner, among others, have created many videos — enough to while away the hours in the most energized ways.  Proof!

May your happiness increase!

WHY?

The Beloved is very proud of me and what I do, something I treasure.  And in this spirit, she will often introduce me to someone she’s just met who has expressed an interest in music, and say of me, “This is the Sweetie: he has a jazz blog.”

I smile at the person after this identifying statement and wait patiently. Sometimes the reaction is, “Oh, you like Miles?” and I can then explain that my heroes are Louis, Lester, and their living friends. But more often than not the response is polite silence. And a fixed look often comes over the other person’s face — somewhere between puzzled, being struck dumb, having nothing to say, wishing the subject had never been brought up, feeling ignorant, feeling threatened.

I think it has something to do with the ominous, oppressive word

JAZZ

which for a variety of reasons seems to leave people with nothing to say in return.

I am willing and often able to converse on other subjects: the deliciousness of the food, the delights of Northern California, the other person’s interests, where the good places to eat are, how lovely or horrid the weather has been . . . the usual run of non-threatening conversation.

But simply introduce JAZZ into the conversation and the room falls silent.  Is it that people don’t like it, don’t understand it, and are thus reluctant to talk about something so esoteric, so outre?  Really, I have no intention of holding forth about, say, an alternate take of an unissued Jabbo Smith 78 I have found after decades of searching. I am not going to lasso the New Person and force him or her to listen to me play THAT’S MY HOME (badly) on the cornet, or compel him or her to watch my latest YouTube clip.

But someday I am going to try an experiment, and ask the Beloved to introduce me as a) someone who collects rare books; b) builds harpsichords; c) flies model airplanes; d) has a Lionel train setup in the basement; e) is learning the tango; f) rides an adult-size tricycle everywhere; g) just came back from a trip to Wisconsin . . . and see if the petrified stare comes out in the same way.  I wonder what it is about JAZZ that produces such silence?

Note: I have not written this post as an inducement for the cognoscenti to tell me how we are live in a cultural wasteland; how Americans are so stupid; how no one knows anything. Ranting about a current offense to taste is, to me, tedious.  I don’t encourage angry contemptuous bashing here, and hope I have not been guilty of it myself.

But it is — a la Yul Brynner — a puzzlement.

May your happiness increase! 

A UNIVERSAL LANGUAGE: THE SWINGING SWEDES IN CONCERT (KUSTBANDET, NOVEMBER 22, 2013)

Thanks to Claes Jansson, we have these performances by the hot, expert Swedish band KUSTBANDET — a band with fifty years of experience! — recorded in concert on November 22, 2013.

The members are Goran Eriksson, Jon “Jonte” Högman, and Klas Toresson, reeds; Jens “Jesse” Lindgren, trombone / vocal; Bent Persson, Fredrik Olsson, trumpet; Peter Lind, trumpet / vocal; Claes Göran Högman, piano; Hans Gustavsson, guitar / banjo; Bo Juhlin, tuba, string bass; Christer “Cacka” Ekhé, drums / vocal.

Onstage with OVER IN THE GLORYLAND into BIRMINGHAM BREAKDOWN:

More early Ellington with THE MOOCHE:

TISHOMINGO BLUES:

For Luis Russell, Red Allen, and the New Orleans boys in New York, SUGAR HILL FUNCTION:

Then, some Louis-inspired hot music:

AFTER YOU’VE GONE:

YOU’RE DRIVING ME CRAZY (thanks, Peter!):

YOU RASCAL YOU (with mock-threats from Peter and Jesse, who mean no one any harm):

and swing for saxophones with LADY BE GOOD:

What a band!  (How do you say, “Romp it, boys!” in Swedish?  No matter.)

May your happiness increase!

LIVE AND ENLIVENING: JEFF AND JOEL’S HOUSE PARTY RETURNS! (Oct. 11-13, 2013)

When asked about the origins of jazz and the blues, Willie “the Lion” Smith was certain that the music had originated in the brickyards of Haverstraw, New York, where he first heard it.

Official Jazz Historians may scoff at his theory, based on first-hand experience, but I do know that traditional jazz — hot and ready — flourishes in Guilford, Connecticut, as a rewarding seasonal event: JEFF and JOEL’S HOUSE PARTY — that’s Jeff Barnhart, piano, vocals; Joel Schiavone, banjo. Both men have been known to burst into song at intervals as well.

The autumnal event (a hot jazz solstice of sorts) will take place this year from Friday, October 11, to Sunday, October 13.  Details immediately below!

J and J flyer 10 13

My first-hand experience of two House Parties is that these events are delightful, with an authenticity not always found at more formal jazz events. Part of this comes from the easy friendliness of the people who run the House Party, people whom it’s easy to get to know.  But a good deal of the happiness here has to do with the physical setting — as if a group of jazz musicians just happened to be having a relaxed session in someone’s home.  Unlike some “jazz parties,” where the musicians are far away on a stage, the House Party is informal, and the barriers between musicians and audience are never quite established.  Not only do you get to hear your heroes; you might have a casual conversation over a sandwich, or find one standing outside on the porch, admiring the lovely fall landscape.  (The leaves are especially beautiful at this time of year.)  And the music-packed sessions are good value indeed (for the budget-conscious, Guilford has a number of pleasant inexpensive motels a few minutes’ drive away from the Schiavone farmhouse.)  For those who don’t see themselves getting to France any time soon, the extra-added-attraction on Friday of PARIS WASHBOARD is something you don’t want to miss.

The music has been blissfully wide-ranging, from Hot Five and two-trumpet King Oliver to Twenties New Orleans and early Ellington, Joplin as it might have been played in “Disneyland for adults” (a bordello circa 1904), a good deal of Bix-related music, evocations of early Bennie Moten and Willie the Lion Smith ensembles.  Chopin, Lil Hardin, Don Lambert, and other notables stopped by, too.

If you need some audible evidence (video provided by CineDevine), here is memorable music from the April 2013 party.  I present one of my musical heroes, John Gill, singing and accompanying himself of Ernest Ball’s classic SALOON — with friends Jeff, piano; Lew Green, cornet; Noel Kaletsky, clarinet; Brian Nalepka, tuba; Kevin Dorn, drums:

For more information and good times amidst hot music, click here.

May your happiness increase! 

SOMETHING TENDER: GEORGE and EVELYN BARNES by ALEXANDRA LEH

Like many jazz fans, I first heard the guitarist George Barnes on record. He had a swaggering attack and a powerfully recognizable sound, whether he was cutting through a big band record date or shaking up the group behind Louis Armstrong in 1956-7. In the early Seventies, I was able to see and hear him in person with Ruby Braff, George Duvivier, Dick Hyman, Jo Jones, Michael Moore, Wayne Wright — often in the brilliant Braff-Barnes Quartet.

Because Barnes had a way of attacking his notes that sounded like small swing firecrackers, I was utterly unprepared for the tender beauty of this performance. It is even more tender when you learn that it was something he played on the final day of his life. His daughter Alexandra has created this video tribute to her father, his music, and his beloved wife Evelyn — appropriately the music is ALL THE THINGS YOU ARE:

What beauty and what a tribute!

May your happiness increase!

THREE TALES TOLD BY KATI POWELL. INCLUDING MEL POWELL, MARTHA SCOTT, BILL DICKEY, BABE RUTH, LOUIS ARMSTRONG, and OTHERS

Kathleen “Kati” Powell is a remarkable person on her own: actress, writer — someone lively and ebullient, as you will see and hear.  She also had remarkable parents: the beautiful actress Martha Scott and the inspiring pianist / composer / arranger Mel Powell, a hero to those of us who know his many aspects.

Thanks to the generosity of Hank O’Neal, I got to know Kati about a year ago.  On August 7, Kati sat down in front of my little camera and told three tales.  I won’t spoil them by any preface: JAZZ LIVES readers will, I am sure, be delighted — as I am.  I will just mention the time and place in which they happened:

1.  The Bronx, New York, 1929:

2.  A Manhattan restaurant, 1964-5:

3.  On the telephone, 1946:

Another aspect of Kati’s generosity and love of her parents will show up in a forthcoming blogpost.  Once again, I think of Yeats’ lines, “Say that my glory was I had such friends.”  Thank you, Kati!

May your happiness increase!

RAGSTRETCH GOES AROUND THE WORLD IN JAZZ: PANAMA / AUSTRALIA / DENMARK (WITH FRIENDS!)

My new friend Lars Ole Christiansen posted this video by the intercontinental band RAGSTRETCH.  That hot band characterizes itself here on Facebook as “New Orleans inspired jazz! Scandinavian horns meet New York-based Aussies for an upcoming tour of Denmark and Norway.”

That in itself would be enough to convince me.  But RAGSTRETCH is also fortunate enough to have my friend Shannon Barnett (an astonishing player, shoes on or off) on trombone in the front line.

They are playing William H. Tyers’ PANAMA . . . and they are playing it in Copenhagen.  Can you say, “Jazz is a universal language.”?

I was about a minute into this video before I said, “More people need to hear this RIGHT NOW.”  So here you are!

RAGSTRETCH is Chris Tanner, clarinet; Björn Ingelstam, trumpet; Shannon Barnett, trombone; Craig Fermanis, guitar; Sam Anning, string bass; Rajiv Jayweera, drums.  Recorded at the Copenhagen Harbour Jazz Festival, July 7, 2013

May your happiness increase!

JULY 6, 2013. LOUIS LIVES. AND WE FEEL IT DEEPLY.

This story begins in a sweetly undramatic way.

The Beloved and I had spent the afternoon of July 6 doing a variety of errands in the car.  We had some time before we had to return home, so she suggested that we do a short bout of “thrifting” (visiting our favorite thrift stores) in the nearby town of San Rafael, California.  She favors a hospice thrift place called HODGE PODGE; I opt for GOODWILL, which is half a block away.

Once in Goodwill, I looked quickly at men’s clothing and took two items off the rack for more consideration.  I saw there were many records in the usual corner, perhaps three hundred LPs and a half-dozen 78 albums.

Just as I write the novella of the life of the person ahead of me on line in the grocery store by the items (s)he is buying, I create the brief biography of a record collector by what patterns there are.  Admittedly, the collection I perused was not solely the expression of one person’s taste, but it seemed a particularly deep 1959 collection: original cast, Sinatra, Dino, Hank Williams, comedy, unusual albums I had not seen before.

In about ten minutes, I found a Jack Lemmon record on Epic, where he sings and plays songs from SOME LIKE IT HOT (he was quite a good pianist), the orchestra directed by Marion Evans.  (Particularly relevant because I am also finishing the 1999 book, CONVERSATIONS WITH WILDER — that’s Billy — and enjoying it greatly).  A Murray McEachern mood-music session for Capitol, CARESS, with Jimmy Rowles; the somewhat dubious JAZZ: SOUTH PACIFIC, with Pettiford, McGhee, J.J. Johnson, Rudy Williams; Ethel Waters doing spirituals and hymns on Word; Clancy Hayes with the Salty Dogs — Jim Dapogny on second cornet / valve-trombone, Kim Cusack on clarinet — OH BY JINGO on Delmark.

Then I moved to the 78s.  I thought about but did not take a Black and White album of six songs by Lena Horne with Phil Moore, but took without hesitation a Capitol collection of Nellie Lutcher, because Sidney Catlett was on a few sides, I think.

More than a few minutes had passed.  My knees were beginning to hurt and other people, one with a well-behaved dog, had been drawn to the trove.

The last album I looked at was an unmarked four-record 78 album.  The first sleeve was empty.  The second one held a Fifties TOPS record “Four Hits On One Record,” which I disdained.  The third was a prize — a late-Thirties Bluebird of Fats Waller and his Rhythm doing AIN’T MISBEHAVIN’ (“Recorded in Europe”) and GEORGIA ROCKIN’ CHAIR, which pleased me a great deal.  It would have been the great treasure of my quest.

I turned to the last record and caught my breath.  I know this feeling well — surprise, astonishment, intense emotion — the equivalent of a painless punch in the solar plexus.  I’ve felt it other times before — once a year ago in California with a Bluebird 78 in a Goodwill (take that confluence as you will) which I have chronicled here.

This record was another late-Thirties Bluebird, this one by Louis.  One side was Hoagy Carmichael’s SNOWBALL (which made me smile — it’s a great sweet song).

Then this:

SUPERMOON and SWING YOU CATS 011

For nearly a decade my email address has been swingyoucats@gmail.com.

Initially, I took it as a self-definition and an online “alias” because those three words are to me a collective exaltation — “Hallelujah, Brothers and Sisters!” in a swinging four – four.

But “Swing you cats!” is not only exhortation — “Let’s unite for our common joyous purpose!” but celebration that we are communally on the same delighted path.

As I did in the previous Goodwill experience, I took the record over to the Beloved, who was seated peaceably, reading a local free paper.  “What did you find?” she said cheerfully.  I went through the records I’ve described, and then reached for the unmarked album and said, “Look at this.”

She admires Fats as I do, so GEORGIA ROCKIN’ CHAIR was properly celebrated.  Then I silently showed her the final record, and we both drew in our breaths.  When she could speak, she said, “Is today a special day?  Some anniversary of your blog?”

And then it dawned on me.  Choked up, I eventually said, “This is the anniversary of Louis’ death.  July 6, 1971.”  After a long, tear-stifled interval during which we simply looked at each other and the record, I took my treasures to the cashier, paid, and we went home.

To describe my feelings about this incident, I run the risk of characterizing myself as one of the Anointed and elaborating on this fantasy vision, where Louis, in the ethereal sphere, sees what I do in his name and approves — sending a little token of his approval my way.

I know that some readers might scoff, “Please!  That record was a manufactured object.  Thousands of copies were made.  It was simple luck that you got it.  Do you think Louis — dead for forty-plus years — would know or care what your email address is?”  I can certainly understand their realistic scorn.

But since I am sure that the Dead Know — that they aren’t Dead in any way except the abandoning of their bodies, who is to say that my taking this as an affirmation from Somewhere is so odd?  How many of us, for whatever reason, have felt the presence of someone we love / who loved us, even though that person is now “dead”?

So I felt, in a more intense way, connected to Louis Armstrong.  That is not a bad thing.  And I could hilariously imagine the way I might have popped up on one of his letters or home tapes.

I hope all my JAZZ LIVES readers, cats indeed, will happily swing on now and eternally.

I send them all my love.

And I celebrate SWING YOU CATS by making it the first whirl of the JAZZ LIVES homemade video jukebox*:

For those who want to know more about this record, read and hear my man Ricky Riccardi’s essay on SWING YOU CATS, here.

*I have witnessed much high-intensity irritation on Facebook directed at people like myself who make YouTube videos of a spinning vintage record without using the finest equipment.  I apologize in advance to anyone who might be offended by my efforts.  SWING YOU CATS sounds “pretty good” to me.  And my intermittent YouTube videos — the “JAZZ LIVES” DANCE PARTY — will offer 78 sides that aren’t on YouTube.  Just for a thrill.

May your happiness increase!

NEW ORLEANS STYLE, FROM THE HEART: IB K. OLSEN and JAZZ FRIENDS PLAY FOR LOUIS

Tomorrow, July 4, Louis Armstrong would have celebrated his birthday.  If you read this post in time, know that Columbia University’s radio station — streaming in cyberspace — WKCR-FM – plays Our Hero for twenty-four hours.

I dream of an alternate universe where at some agreed-upon time, everyone goes to his / her home stereo system (archaic word) or iPod or phone or car system and kicks off TWO DEUCES or WHEN YOU WISH UPON A STAR or ON A COCOANUT ISLAND — we could perhaps agree on the chosen performance in advance . . . so that the whole world vibrates with love of Louis.

But here’s something for right now.  This music comes from a recent practice / get-together of like-minded friends in Copenhagen or nearby, captured for us by Lars Ole Christiansen on YouTube.

The performers are Ib K. Olsen, cornet; Johannes Wrisberg, Bent Tranberg, clarinet; Finn Wellejus, trombone; Jörgen Möller, piano; Per Krogh, banjo.  Ordinarily they have a string bassist as well.

What first caught my attention was the pairing of songs — 1930 and 1929 — that I love, recorded so sweetly and memorably by Louis.  Then, as I got deeper into the performances, which have their rough edges, I was won over by their naturalness, their steadiness, their sincerity.  They might not be cozy virtuosi to everyone’s taste, but they are deeply IN the music they play.

See and hear for yourself.

I’M IN THE MARKET FOR YOU:

SWEETHEARTS ON PARADE:

I am a truly amateur cornetist now: in my dreams (if I practiced regularly) I would be the second cornet player with a band that has sessions in someone’s home.  Its easy stride would be embracing and forgiving.  How do you say, “In Bb, please, and not too fast!“?  I know the Danes know English well, but I want to try to fit in.

May your happiness increase!

GLIMPSES OF THE GRAIL, 1949

We love the music we have — the wooden boxes of phonograph records and cassettes, the wall shelves of CDs, the iPods with thousands of songs.  But our hearts beat faster for those things imagined but not realized.  Poring over discographies, we breathe faster when reading of unissued takes, the performances rumored to exist, acetates held by someone in another country, the film footage . . .

But thanks to Lorenz Yeung and Fernando Ortiz de Urbana (I’ve had the good fortune to meet the latter in person) are a few bite-sized bits of one kind of Holy Grail: http://jazzontherecord.blogspot.com/

(Fernando’s blog, EASY DOES IT, is a wonderful cornucopia on its own.)

Who assembled this I do not know.  It is a tribute to Sidney Bechet, who well deserves such honors.  But obviously someone followed Bechet around in 1949, on his penultimate visit to the United States.  And Bechet appeared a number of times on television (think of it!) in the States — most often, I believe, on the Eddie Condon Floor Show oon WPIX.

It’s always heartwarming to be able to praise Mr. Condon, so allow me a few sentences.  Whenever he could (later with the help of his wife Phyllis and the publicist Ernie Anderson) he looked for venues where his music could be played — in mixed bands on Fifty-Second Street, at the Park Lane Hotel, at Town Hall, the Ritz Theatre, and Carnegie Hall, several incarnations of his own club . . . on records, radio broadcasts, transcriptions for the servicemen and women . . . and television.

The Floor Show was his rewarding pioneering television series, broadcast between 1948 and 1950 on WPIX-TV.  It brought together the best jazz players and singers — Louis Armstrong, Sidney Catlett, Jack Teagarden, Lee Wiley, Billie Holiday, Earl Hines, Pee Wee Russell, Woody Herman, Buddy Rich, Hot Lips Page, Count Basie, Bobby Hackett, Buzzy Drootin, Ralph Sutton — alongside Rosemary Clooney and tap-dancer Teddy Hale, and fifty or so other luminaries.

Eddie was wise enough to understand that the human ear and psyche would wilt on a steady unremitting diet of Hot, so in his club there was an intermission solo pianist; there were ballad medleys, slow blues, medium-tempo pop tunes, as well as RIVERBOAT SHUFFLE.

And his understanding of “show,” of variety, developed in the visual world of early television — hot numbers interspersed with slow ballads, sweet singing, tap dancing, and more.  (I’ve seen a still photograph of what must have been a perfect jazz trio: Hot Lips Page, James P. Johnson, and Zutty Singleton.  Pardon me while I rhapsodize silently.)

Some small portion of the music survives on vinyl issues on the Queen-Disc label and in the collectors’ underground trading world, but we know that the kinescopes made at the time — films of the programs — no longer exist.  I have this on very solid authority, unless there were multiple sets made.

However . . . this YouTube surprise package has color silent footage of Sidney with Cliff Jackson, Kid Ory, Muggsy Spanier, Teddy Hale, Peanuts Hucko, possibly Kansas Fields, Gene Schroeder, Buddy Rich, Chubby Jackson, George Wettling, and another saxophonist named Charlie Parker.

You will have to watch the video several times to fully appreciate all its great gifts, including shots of Bechet acting in several French films, occasionally at the stove or battling an over-assertive shirt dickey.

About the television footage: I imagine that someone who loved Bechet followed him onto the soundstage with a movie camera (the kinescopes would have had sound and been in black and white) — blessings on this intrepid soul and those who saved the footage and shared it with us.  (I’ve written to Lorenz Yeung, the poster, to ask the source of the Condon material; he generously told me that it was part of a Bechet CD package he bought in Australia, a bonus CD (!)  I’m also quite amazed that none of the orinthologists have noticed this — and it’s been on YouTube since 2011.  Research!  In color!)

The question, is, of course, “What else is out there?”  And the answer is unfathomable.  But all things are possible.

My personal Holy Grail might no longer exist.  I can’t remember where I heard or read this story, but Ernie Anderson (both diligent and a teller of tales, so this one might have to be taken with skepticism) knew a fellow in the advertising trade, quite wealthy, whose son loved jazz.  Father wanted to give his son a present, and asked Ernie to set up a recording session for the boy: Ernie assembled Bobby Hackett, Sidney Catlett, and the fine pianist Harry Gibson (later Harry “the Hipster” Gibson), had them record some music, had the records pressed in perhaps one set, and I assume the boy was terrifically pleased.  But where are those records now?

Readers are invited to submit their own versions of the jazz Holy Grail . . . we could start with the airshots of the King Oliver band with Lester Young in it and go from there.

Thanks to Lorenz Yeung, Fernando, to David J. Weiner, Maggie Condon, Loren Schoenberg, Dan Morgenstern, and to Sidney Bechet (of course): the soundtrack is DANS LES RUE D’ANTIBES.

May your happiness increase!

JOE RUSHTON’S JAZZ HOME MOVIES, 1943: HERBIE HAYMER, JIMMY McPARTLAND, MIFF MOLE, BILL PRIESTLEY, AND A FEW OTHER LUMINARIES

Joe Rushton was an eminent bass saxophonist and clarinetist.  You can hear him on a variety of recordings — perhaps most often with Red Nichols’ later Pennies.

home movie camera

But he also owned a home movie camera in 1943 and onwards, as many people did.  However, where the average amateur films show Mom and the kids at holiday meals, or perhaps the new puppy on the lawn, Joe’s films show his jazz friends goofing around — on the West Coast, as members of the Benny Goodman band, on their way to play the gig and to appear in THE GANG’S ALL HERE.

Joe’s son, Josh, has not only rescued these film clips — black and white and silent — from oblivion, but he’s taken good care of them, annotated them, and put a few on YouTube here for us to marvel at and be amused by.  Here are two recent gifts to us and an astonishing one — in case you haven’t seen it recently. The odd allure of these films is strong yet hard to define.  Is it that the people captured here almost always come to us as sound, occasionally with a still picture — and those sounds have come to represent the whole men or women.  So when we see, for instance, that Miff Mole actually had a corporeal reality in some ways larger and more human than his notes coming out of the speaker, that’s a pleasure and a surprise.  When we see him in motion, putting on one suspender for the camera, not wearing his suit or his tiny eyeglasses, we might think, “They were human, too!”  Always a valuable realization.

Thank you, Joe!  Thank you, Josh!

Saxophonists Herbie Haymer (who played with Norvo as well as BG and showed up on a fine Keynote Records date around this time:

Any expert lip readers in the worldwide JAZZ LIVES audience?

And this group of playful jazz icons, captured at their ease:

So far the best guess at “the mystery man” is that he is Chummy MacGregor . . .

Finally, what may have been the most astonishing find in the Rushton archives, something I’ve already written about here:

May your happiness increase.

BE GLAD YOU ARE ALIVE AND HAVE EARS AND EYES TO HEAR AND SEE (THE CONTINUING SAGA OF GRATITUDE IN 4/4): SARA LAMHARZI, JASON VANDERFORD, CLINT BAKER

Two fellows and a gal in the park . . . something special, sweet music and sweet images for us.  Thanks to Sara Lamharzi (videographer); Jason Vanderford (banjo, vocal); Clint Baker (cornet, clarinet).

We hope for more beautiful music, so neatly captured on film — visit Sara’s YouTube channel here.

WHAT CAN I SAY, DEAR (AFTER I SAY I’M SORRY)?:

IN THE SHADE OF THE OLD APPLE TREE:

Oh, are we grateful!

May your happiness increase.

JACK TEAGARDEN, ALL BY HIMSELF, CONTINUES TO ASTONISH

The deeply talented musician Jean-Francois Bonnel just called our attention to these two solo performances — Jack Teagarden, recorded backstage — improvising on LOVER (his famous solo) and the blues (looser). They are astonishing displays of what Jack always did — make the absolutely impossible look, if not easy, at least plausible.

LOVER:

THE BLUES:

The brass players in the audience will be able to tell us just how superheroic that playing is.  The rest of us will simply have to smile and marvel.  Jack’s been gone almost fifty years — but he hasn’t been equalled or replaced.

(Bless Jack for sharing his talents so open-heartedly, and bless the recordist!)

May your happiness increase.

THE ASTONISHING WORLDS OF TEDDY WILSON

For some, my title may sound hyperbolic — a sideways glance at a Fifties science-fiction anthology.  But it represents accurately the way I feel about Wilson’s best playing.

In a jazz landscape that occasionally seems dominated by the Coarse (showy playing and singing for effect), Wilson’s solo recordings seem the lyrical embodiment of delicacy.  By that I don’t mean effete playing, a series of tiny gestures, the aural equivalent of someone hunched over the harpsichord keyboard, making almost no sound.

Wilson was clearly a definite player: his rhythms move; his single-note lines gleam; he swings from start to finish at any tempo.  But he doesn’t come out in clown costume and wave his arms wildly for our attention.  His lovely multi-layered playing is there for us, should we choose to give it our ears and hearts and minds.

Teddy Wilson was a man of astonishing gifts, although he offered them in the middle register; he was soft-spoken in person and in his playing.  A YouTube benefactor named sepiapanorama has quietly been very generous — creating two videos that offer eighteen pearly Wilson solos from his great period.  Here are the first ten “issued” performances:

and eight alternate takes:

For those readers who think, “Where did this music come from?” here is an answer.

In the Twenties and beyond, music publishers saw that there was a market for music books that would help you play more like Red Nichols, Jimmy Dorsey, Eddie Miller, Art Tatum, Louis, and so on.  You can find them on eBay.  (I wish you good luck — both in the quest to find these books and then to absorb their knowledge.)  Wilson had published one such collection in 1937 — a series of transcribed solos — but he then had the bright entrepreneurial idea of creating the “Teddy Wilson School for Pianists”: a business located in midtown Manhattan — probably simply an office where someone received checks and sent out packages.

What seems to have happened was that Wilson went into the Brunswick studios — the company for whom he was already recording — or stayed there after a Billie Holiday date was over — and recorded several solo improvisation on classic pop songs.  They were not issued by the company for general purchase, but given a special yellow label.  These 78s are now exceedingly rare.

One could become a student at the School (details unknown) and receive a record of, say MY BLUE HEAVEN and one other song — along with printed commentary on what to listen for in the performance.  I once thought that complete transcriptions of the solos were offered, but have been told that I was misinformed.  The School didn’t last long, but those chroniclers who champion the efforts of musicians, twenty years later, to form their own record labels and publishing companies, to take charge of their own economic destinies, should look to Teddy Wilson as an early prescient pioneer in this.

In the Seventies, I found a copy of a bootleg 10″ lp on the Jolly Roger label which contained Teddy Wilson performances I had never heard of before — WHEN YOU AND I WERE YOUNG, MAGGIE stands out in my memory — and I bought it.  I then learned that the eight sides were from the School.  Later, Jerry Valburn issued a Merrit Record Society of all eighteen sides, and even later they came out on three European CDs (Classics and Neatwork).

Some friends have suggested that Wilson “simplified” his style for the prospective students.  I don’t know — these seem like incredibly complex recordings, and I think they would be difficult to imitate.  For myself (a very amateurish pianist) I listen to and marvel at the apparent simplicities of Wilson’s melody statements — say, the first eight bars of I’LL SEE YOU IN MY DREAMS — and think that these performances are marvels: intricate, delicate, beautifully crafted.

These sides make me very happy and I hope they do the same for you.  And each one is the result of a long period of study, so try to listen to them one at a a time — otherwise they might become glittering Swing background music.

May your happiness increase.

THE REAL THING: “OLD STACK O’LEE”: THE BLUES at MANASSAS (December 2, 1972): JOHNNY WIGGS, RAYMOND BURKE, GRAHAM STEWART, BOB GREENE, DANNY BARKER, FREDDIE MOORE

Through the kindness of Joe Shepherd, we have another trip backwards in time to view and hear the magic of the music.  In case you missed the first excursion, do visit here.

Be forewarned: the visual quality of this video is quite murky — almost twenty thousand leagues under the sea, although Verne never heard such music.  One can get used to it.  This is what much-transferred forty-years-old videotape looks like, but the audio is loud and clear.

This video is a valuable document, because it and its predecessor from the same session are (as far as I know) the only performance footage of cornetist Johnny Wiggs and clarinetist Raymond Burke — lyrical heroes of mine — here accompanied by Graham Stewart, trombone, Bob Greene, piano, Danny Barker, guitar, Freddie Moore, drums: Johnny Wiggs’ Bayou Stompers, introduced by Johnson “Fat Cat” McRee, sometime singer / kazooist and eternal jazz lover – festival creator.  They play a nice old blues (close to MAKE ME A PALLET ME ON THE FLOOR) at a sweet tempo, the beat marked off in a special old-time way by Freddie.  And Raymond Burke’s sliding, gliding feet (in very shiny loafers) are a visual treat in themselves; even the cameraperson thought so.

Burke and Wiggs are uplifting poets of the music: sad but not maudlin or frozen in time, playing the blues from deep knowledge of what they are, where they came from, and how they feel to listeners.  There’s a good deal of Jelly Roll Morton here, too, which is always uplifting.

This video — although its originator is not known to me — comes to us through the loving diligence of trumpeter / archivist Joe Shepherd, Sflair on YouTube, someone who cares a great deal for and about this music.  Thank you, Joe!  And this one’s for you — John Gill and Leon Oakley, Roger Wade, Doug Pomeroy, Chris Tyle, Sam McKinistry, Trygve Hernæs, and Hank O’Neal!  (“By popular demand” — more from Johnny Wiggs and Raymond Burke!)

May your happiness increase.

RUEFUL AND LOVELY: “TONY, LET THE MEATBALLS ROLL”: JOHNNY WIGGS, RAYMOND BURKE, GRAHAM STEWART, DANNY BARKER, BOB GREENE, FREDDIE MOORE (Manassas Jazz Festival. December 2, 1972)

Be forewarned: the visual quality on the performance that follows is sub-standard, although you can get used to it.  This is what much-transferred forty-years-old videotape looks like, but the audio is loud and clear.

This video is a valuable document, because I don’t know of any other performance footage of cornetist Johnny Wiggs and clarinetist Raymond Burke — lyrical heroes of mine — here accompanied by Graham Stewart, trombone, Bob Greene, piano, Danny Barker, guitar, Freddie Moore, drums: Johnny Wiggs’ Bayou Stompers, introduced by Johnson “Fat Cat” McRee, sometime singer / kazooist and eternal jazz lover – festival creator.

The song is elusive — TONY, LET THE MEATBALLS ROLL — and I couldn’t find any lyrics online, but the opening phrase so neatly fits the title that I am sure JAZZ LIVES readers can (silently) invent their own narratives with the proper scansion.

I am amused by Raymond Burke’s endearing personal choreography — his body mirrors what he is playing more than is true with many players.  And his tone is so singular, sweet-tart in the manner of Ed Hall — but you wouldn’t mistake one player for the other.  A great underacknowledged poet of the clarinet.

Wiggs continues to astonish.  He saw Joe Oliver in New Orleans (I seem to remember this was 1919) and Oliver left a lasting impression.  But then Wiggs heard Bix and those wandering odes took over — haunting but always mobile.

I hear in Wiggs, who was 73 at the time of this video, a sweet, sad evocation of what Bix might have sounded like had he lived on this long.  Wiggs’ music plunges forward while looking over its shoulder in a melancholy, ruminative way.  And although Wiggs recorded early (1927) and from 1949 into the fifties, his late work fully expresses a kind of autumnal sensibility, delicate without being timid or maudlin — the sweet voice of an elder who has seen a great deal and knows that life is sadly finite but celebrates that life with his cornet.

One other thing occurs to me, with special relevance to my own video efforts, where musicians justly want the performances that will be disseminated and preserved for posterity to be as free from flaws as possible.  Anyone who watches this video to the end — and why wouldn’t you? — notices a small train wreck (with no one hurt) because the band is not clear whether to go on or stop. I find this, like Burke’s body language, quite endearing.  I’d rather have imperfect Wiggs and Burke than know that this flawed performance had been consigned to the trash.

This video — although I do not know the originator — comes to us through the loving diligence of trumpeter / archivist Joe Shepherd, Sflair on YouTube, someone who cares a great deal for and about this music.  Thank you, Joe!

May your happiness increase.

ON THE GENTLE ART OF CRITICISM

When the Beloved and I are out for a walk and I have commented on something, a flock of crows may fly by and give their verdict:

and I will turn to the Beloved and say, “Oh, everyone’s a critic!”

When people caw in print it is sometimes more difficult to get the rancor out of the air.  I can deal with the gentleman who wrote in to tell me that I was a “traitor to Jazz,” because he and I no longer converse.  Life is too short to welcome and encourage personal abuse.

But I am disheartened by the anger displayed by people commenting on YouTube videos.  I read comments that seem furious at the audience at a public performance in a restaurant for talking while the music is playing.  I understand the viewer’s unhappiness, but think, “Sir, shouting in print at people in a video-recording for their bad manners may make you feel better, but the talkers can no longer modify their behavior to suit you.  Your comment, although a genuine expression of your frustration, is not the best use of your energy.”

Even more disheartening is the commentary of a viewer that X is playing badly.  One such critic wrote in recently that “the audience deserved better.”  I wonder how someone, sitting at home, is able to judge what the audience did or did not deserve for the price of their tickets.  Does an imperfect performance offend so much that it should be made to vanish?

What bothers me is the implied insult to the musicians, who are working with all their skill, energy, and decades of experience to create something beautiful.  Merely playing one repeated note on the piano for four minutes at a fast tempo and staying attuned to the rhythm is beyond most amateurs, but the amateurs have no problem saying that “Y’s performance is very bad.”  And when we graduate to the difficulties of playing a trumpet or a saxophone . . .

I am not espousing a general bland appreciation for everything.  I go away from some performances saying, “Gee, I didn’t like that very much.  I think L doesn’t always play in tune, or R rushes.”  But there I am expressing my subjective judgment, and it remains personal and private — unless we are going to have all jazz performances measured on-the-spot by scientific arbiters with metronomes and pitch-analyzers.

Generosity of spirit might be what we should aim for, rather than “good” or “bad,” “better” or “worse.”

I wonder if this critical urge comes from a lack of impulse control born from decades of ranking and rating (i.e., the Academy Awards, Playmate of the Year, Best-Of lists), of people sitting in front of their television sets at home, yelling at the football player who has “done badly.”  Or in other contexts, people watching generations of beauty pageant queens compete, and saying to the screen, “I wouldn’t vote for her.  She is ugly!”    Or, in the parlance of the times, “That SUCKED!”

I wonder also if the people who comment so acridly on these videos would find it proper to say to a jazz player or players as the musicians got off the stand, “Wow, you played so badly!”  I think most listeners would think such judgments would be at best rude, at worst cruel or unwise.  “Would you say this to someone in person?” might be a useful rule in criticism.  It is so easy to write something in anger, then press SEND or POST — and what is in print tends to stay visible.  And perhaps harmful.

Once, years ago, I was coming home on the train from a classical concert and I fell into conversation with a man who had been going to concerts for decades.  He was also unhappy with people who could not sit still and listen peacefully.  His theory was that the coughers and talkers and rattlers and paper-shufflers could not stand subordinating their own egos for the length of a performance.  “Look at me!  I’m here, too!”  I doubt that everyone who coughs is possessed by ego-demons, but I wonder how many of the most “offended” critics are upset that X — with the soprano saxophone — is getting all the attention.

Finally.  Jazz magazines still rank recordings with stars.  No stars bad, five stars good (to paraphrase ANIMAL FARM).  I remember reading that a critic in a famous magazine said of an early-Fifties Lester Young performance that it was “bad,” that Lester played with a “cardboard tone.”  He was entitled to feel this way, but I prize those Lester Young recordings, and am happy that this critic was not in a position of imperial power where he could have had the masters destroyed.  That music remains long after the critic’s response has been forgotten.

The crows may be performing a useful function while cawing.  That chorus of sound may say, “Someone dropped half a sandwich!  Let’s go, boys!”  Or their sound may mean, “Watch out!  Hawk’s in town!”

If our criticisms are not equally useful, do they need to be expressed in print?

And who knows who is criticizing You while You are unaware?

Peace, brothers and sisters.

May your happiness increase.

AN IDEAL NEIGHBOUR: PETE NEIGHBOUR PLAYS “‘DEED I DO”

I would be very happy to have clarinetist Pete Neighbour move in next door — with his pretty tone, fearless swing, neat melodic embellishments, I know I would be entertained all the time.  Here are Pete, Richard Pite, drums; Murray Salmon, string bass; Colin Goode, piano, embarking on ‘DEED I DO in London (October 2012) at Boisdales, Canary Wharf:

Visit / subscribe to Pete’s YouTube channel here.  And for more of his music, or  keep up with him on Facebook here.  Although he was born in London (and he gigs there with his UK pals) he makes his home in Columbia, South Carolina — which means that swing lovers on both sides of the ocean should have ample opportunity to hear him play.  And here you can hear excerpts from (and purchase!) one of his CDs, IT’S ALL RIGHT WITH ME.

‘Deed he does!

May your happiness increase.

JOSH DUFFEE’S “TRUMBOLOGY” at the 2012 WHITLEY BAY CLASSIC JAZZ PARTY — STARRING ANDY SCHUMM as BIX, PRODUCED by EMRAH ERKEN

One of the niccest moments at the 2012 Whitley Bay Classic Jazz Party was being able to finally meet the generous jazz scholar Emrah Erken (you may know him as Atticus70 on YouTube).

Emrah is one of those enlightened souls who not only loves the music but wants to share it with all of us.  Not only is he a delightful person, he’s also a fine cinematgorapher — all of the videos below were created with his iPhone5 (and are best viewed in 1080).  I’m thrilled to have such a gifted brother with a video camera!  You’ll love the results.

The band Emrah captured was drummer / leader Josh Duffee’s TRUMBOLOGY — a logical and heartfelt tribute to Frank Trumbauer and his colleagues.  The award-winning 2012 creators are Andy Schumm, cornet;  Kristoffer Kompen, trombone;  Norman Field, Michael McQuaid, Stéphane Gillot, Mathias Seuffert, saxes, reeds;  Keith Nichols, piano; Frans Sjostrom, bass saxophone; Martin Wheatley, guitar / banjo; Josh Duffee, leader, drums, with a  guest appearance by Emma Fisk, violin.   Recorded on October 28, 2012.

OSTRICH WALK:

CRYIN’ ALL DAY:

‘WAY DOWN YONDER IN NEW ORLEANS:

CHOO CHOO (the soundtrack for a futuristic Thirties cartoon)

TURN ON THE HEAT (with a lovely wooing vocal by Spats Langham after Norman Field’s wonderful C-melody chorus):

I’M COMIN’ VIRGINIA:

THREE BLIND MICE:

BORNEO:

SINGIN’ THE BLUES:

WRINGIN’ AND TWISTIN’ (performed by Andy, piano / cornet; Michael, C-melody, Martin, guitar):

CLARINET MARMALADE (listen for Matthias in the first chorus and later):

Well-played, gents!  And well-captured, Emrah!  Thanks also to Mike and Patti Durham for making such good music (in such welcoming circumstances) possible year after year.  Don’t miss out on the 2013 delights: click  jazzfest.

May your happiness increase.

SPLENDIDLY HOT: THE RAMPART STREET PARADERS with JACK TEAGARDEN, 1956

Thanks to Michael Pittsley (with trombone in hand, we know him as Mike) for alerting me to this and to vitajazz for posting this 1956 half-hour television program, STARS OF JAZZ, hosted by Bobby Troup (with the original Budweiser beer and Schweppes tonic water commercials intact, for the cultural historians).

The real joy is in being able to observe Matty Matlock’s Rampart Street Paraders on film for the first time.  They are Matlock, clarinet; Eddie Miller, tenor sax; the swashbuckling Abe Lincoln, trombone; Clyde Hurley, trumpet; Stanley Wrightsman, piano; George Van Eps, guitar; Phil Stephens, string bass; Nick Fatool, drums.  There’s even a cameo appearance by David Stone Martin . . . very hip indeed!

Two of those players are less well-known in this century — Mr. Lincoln and Mr. Hurley — but they are astonishing players.

Troup’s commentary on “Chicago style,” although dated, isn’t as bad as it might initially seem.  The Paraders offer a slow BLUES / STRUTTIN’ WITH SOME BARBECUE / DO YOU KNOW WHAT IT MEANS TO MISS NEW ORLEANS? (featuring Matlock over that lovely rhythm section — and a gorgeous Van Eps bridge) / LOVER (featuring Jack in pristine form — catch Matlock’s grin and listen to Fatool’s beautiful accents) / an interlude with Paul Whiteman where he and Jack comment on the recent death of Frank Trumbauer   / BASIN STREET BLUES (again for Jack — but the Paraders back him so beautifully) / After Matlock’s brief commentary there’s a rollicking HINDUSTAN which begins and concludes with an explosive showcase for Abram “Abe” Lincoln — and a heroic solo in the middle / and a return to those BLUES.

Glorious music, both shouting and subtle.

May your happiness increase.