HAPPY BIRTHDAY, HUMPH!

HUMPH

Humphrey Lyttelton would have been 94 this May 23, 2015.  Although I have ordinarily not celebrated the birthdays of my heroes, living and departed, this calls for a celebration.  (Humph, gregarious onstage, was the most private of jazz musicians, so whether he approves of this tribute is open to debate.  But here it is, anyway.)

The gorgeous soundtrack — rare and previously unheard — has been provided for us by Stephen Lyttelton, Humph’s son, and curator of the beautiful and engrossing website devoted to his father.

The song is an old favorite (oddly enough, one I associate with the pre-Basie / pre-Eddie Durham version of the Bennie Moten band, San Francisco jazz, and Louis with the Dukes of Dixieland) SOUTH:

Stephen’s brand-new YouTube channel is here.  (My feeling is that if many of us subscribe, he will be motivated to share more rare, unheard music.  What could possibly go wrong?)

And here is Stephen’s commentary, which I couldn’t improve:

A birthday gift for all Humphrey Lyttelton fans – please pass it on.

Humph would have been 94 today and to celebrate here is a free recording never before released.

Humph, with Bruce Turner and Roy Williams, was part of the Salute to Satchmo Tour that visited Australia in 1978. Rolling back the years and delving back into the New Orleans catalogue, Humph is joined by a local band called The West Coast Jazzmen from North Freemantle, Australia. The gig was a ‘loosener’ before the main concern the next day and the band let rip with their version of ‘South’.

The recording(s) was found on a CDR and restored by David Watson at The Monostery.

Please pass on to fans who may not be linked to Humph’s web page or Facebook.

And here‘s the Facebook page for Humphrey Lyttelton 1928-2001.  “Like” it!  I do.

May your happiness increase! 

A BEETLE-SIGHTING!

Piano

Yes, you read that right.  But it’s not a termite swarm or something to fear.  No, rather it is two minutes of the legendary stride pianist Stephen “The Beetle” Henderson, playing James P. Johnson’s KEEP OFF THE GRASS on a radio broadcast circa 1940, introduced by Art Hodes.  I assume this is from the period when Hodes had airtime on the New York City municipal station — what we now know as WNYC:

I assume that Henderson got his mildly unflattering name because of wearing thick-lensed eyeglasses.  But there’s nothing to satirize in his playing.  Yes, a few modern masters I know could and would play this more “cleanly,” but Henderson’s version has the earthy gaiety of a dance, and his bass patterns are beautifully varied.  Thanks to the generous BlueBlackJazz for sharing this masterpiece in miniature with us.  I’ve subscribed to that YouTube channel and I encourage you to do so as well.

I have found no solid biographical information about the Beetle, except that he was praised by Ellington, and that (this may be apocryphal) he was notoriously relaxed about showing up for gigs.  This version of KEEP OFF THE GRASS, however, comes from a record called HARLEM STRIDE MASTERS on the Euphonic label, and the record also includes the Beetle’s version of CAROLINA SHOUT.  I’d love to hear that someday also.

It is possible that all might be revealed to us.

May your happiness increase!

 

 

 

to https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCQQFZcDOcAjIk4kwNujo3gw

SPREADING MORE JOY IN MICHIGAN (May 8, 2015)

ERIN MORRIS AND HER RAGDOLLS

ERIN MORRIS AND HER RAGDOLLS

Has today been surprisingly rough, friend?  Did you turn away from the milk you were heating on the stove to find it had taken on new life as Vesuvius?  Are your ears still hurting from what someone said to you last night?  Did the Havanese puppy you bent down to pat on the street nip your hand?  Is your performance rating 10 . . . but the scale is now 1 to 100?  Are you being blamed for something you didn’t do?  Did someone siphon out all your emotional energy while you were sleeping?  Have all the treats been moved to a shelf higher than you can reach?  Have the rules of the board game been changed while you went to get the popcorn?

You know the feelings.  No over-the-counter cream has yet been invented to take away those stings.

But at JAZZ LIVES, we offer an infallible transfusion of joy.  Two, in fact. Created by skilled practitioners.  One tincture is in honor of an ancient dance; the other celebrates a noted explorer (and Chu Berry, let his name ne’er be forgot).

Healing tincture one:

And its counterpart:

Dancers:  Erin Morris, Brittany Armstrong-Morton, Rachel Bomphray, Sarah Campbell.  (For more information about Erin Morris and her Ragdolls, visit here, and then, feeling the spirit, here.  JAZZ LIVES will soon be able to offer information for those wishing to form local chapters of the Erin Morris and her Ragdolls International Fan Club.

Those who feel properly moved are encouraged to “like” the Erin Morris and Her Ragdolls Facebook page. JAZZ LIVES readers who show proof of a properly completed “like” of this page will be entitled to a free lifetime subscription to JAZZ LIVES.

Musicians: , Mike Karoub (cello), James Dapogny (piano), Rod McDonald (guitar / banjo), and Joe Fee (bass). Nathan Bugh sings on BALLIN’.  College Theater, Washtenaw Community College, Ann Arbor, Michigan. May 8, 2015. Filmed by Laura Beth Wyman.

A first helping of joy can be experienced here.  And more is promised, which is indeed joyous news.

The instructions on the prescription are very simple: REPEAT AS NEEDED. ay

May your happiness increase!

LOVE NOTES: TIM LAUGHLIN, CONNIE JONES, DOUG FINKE, CHRIS DAWSON, MARTY EGGERS, HAL SMITH, KATIE CAVERA at the San Diego Jazz Fest (November 29, 2014)

Today I keep thinking of Tommy Wilhelm, the center of Saul Bellow’s inescapable novel SEIZE THE DAY.  Tommy not only endures failure; he seems drawn to it and perpetuates it.  Yet he is one of those rare beings — in fiction or in life — who seems on the edge of perceiving deep truths about himself. These perceptions do not give him the strength to steer clear of the next disaster, but in one of Tommy’s interior monologues, he thinks three strong words.  Never mind the past tense.

Recovery was possible.

Words to hold on to, even when what we define as “the world” can be terribly dark, and the people in it, on their own orbits, somewhat heedless.

Recovery was possible.

For me, recovery takes the form of love in the shape of music.  No line is drawn between the two expressions.  The floating sounds say to me, and I hope to you, “We send love.  Our notes are embraces.  Our vibrations say that no one is alone. Feel the hope we offer, that you can make a choice to turn towards beauty.  Our sounds may heal those who can hear.”

Living proof: Tim Laughlin, clarinet; Connie Jones, cornet; Doug Finke, trombone; Chris Dawson, piano; Marty Eggers, string bass; Katie Cavera, guitar; Hal Smith, drums.  Recorded at the San Diego Jazz Fest on November 29, 2014.

IF YOU WERE THE ONLY GIRL IN THE WORLD:

I thank these musicians for embodying such dear truths.

May your happiness increase!

STUDY YOUR PRONOUNS at THE EAR INN with THE EARREGULARS (JON-ERIK KELLSO, MATT MUNISTERI, SCOTT ROBINSON, ATTILA KORB: January 25, 2015)

A pronoun takes the place of a noun in a sentence, so, rather than saying “Emily,” we might say “her.”

First, THEM: a personal pronoun referring to a group of people or objects. “Move them off the table so we can eat, please,” is one example.

THEM THERE EYES (although more casual than formal) is another:

Second, THAT: a demonstrative pronoun that demonstrates or indicates.  I always think of these pronouns as fingers pointing our eyes to something specific.  “That‘s a horrible tie you’re wearing,” is one possibility.

THAT’S A PLENTY (again, more casual than formal) is another, full of delicious thrilling mutant sounds:

(It may strike some as ego-display, but I love the woman — who’s a fixture on Sunday nights — passing the Bucket, who says to me at :08, “Oh, great, you’re taping this.  That’s awesome!”  Thank you, dear lady, wherever you are.)

The grammar lesson is concluded.  Those who wish to correct my grammar are kindly requested to line up at the outer door marked JAZZ LIVES and wait patiently until it opens.  Bring something to read.

And by the way, this magical music took place on Sunday night, January 25, 2015, at The Ear Inn, the home of happy sounds in Soho, 326 Spring Street, New York City.  The heroic participants are Jon-Erik Kellso, trumpet; Scott Robinson, bass saxophone; Matt Munisteri, guitar; Attila Korb, trombone.

Bless Them; That music is spectacular, isn’t it?

May your happiness increase!

BEAUTIFULLY POLISHED BRASS

Here’s something good.

And another taste:

CHRIS HODGKINS CDI don’t ordinarily like surprises, because so many of them feel as if someone has crept up behind me and popped an inflated paper bag to watch me suddenly soar up to the ceiling — but the most lovely surprise is meeting someone new and finding out that (s)he has deep joyous talents you’d never known of before.

Such a person is trumpeter / composer Chris Hodgkins.  In fairness, I’d already heard Chris play (on recordings only, alas) and admired him as a thoughtful lyrical trumpeter — someone who admired Louis, Ruby, Brownie, Humphrey Lyttelton, without imitating a phrase.  And I hear the same kind of tenderness I always heard in Joe Wilder’s playing.  (In the interest of accuracy, I will note that I first heard and wrote about Chris a few years ago here.

The two YouTube videos above offer music from the new Hodgkins CD, BACK IN YOUR OWN BACKYARD, which I celebrate here as an outpouring of sophisticated yet gentle Mainstream jazz.

I had the opportunity to write a few words for this disc, and they will serve as my enthusiastic endorsement:

Chris Hodgkins and friends do not have the international reputations they deserve, but they create endearing music that doesn’t reveal all its secrets at once.

Aside from two originals and the poignant BLACK BUTTERFLY, the repertoire suggests a formulaic Mainstream set that one might hear at a jazz party. But that narrow assumption vanishes once the music begins, for Chris, Dave, Erika, and Ashley offer serene yet searching chamber jazz, refreshing improvisations on familiar songs. (Although I suppose that SWEETHEARTS ON PARADE is now arcane to all but a few listeners.)

I delight in the delicately streamlined instrumentation, reminiscent of sessions by Ruby Braff and Warren Vache. Hearing this music, I am breathing in the light-hearted interplay, without the conventions of four-bar trades or ensemble-solos-ensemble. The players have created an airy, open music, full of pleasant wanderings but solidly grounded in melody and beating-heart rhythms.

And this music gladdens on many levels: a musician could analyze and admire subtle rhythmic displacements, chord substitutions, shifting textures. A casual listener would say, “What is that? That sounds beautiful,” and both responses would be true.

Chris is a master of his instrument. He can modulate from what Agatha Beiderbecke heard in her son’s playing, a “sudden perky blare,” to what Ruby Braff recognized in Lawrence Brown’s “a wonderful little cry.” I hear echoes of a grand tradition – everyone from George Mitchell to Clifford Brown and beyond – but Chris is himself throughout.

Emotionally warm music comes out of the emotions of the players – not only their love of sounds and textures, but a love for the people who have gone before and who have created personal art. On this CD, one hears everyone’s affection and admiration for the great ancestors, but Chris cites two people in particular.

One, his older brother, played trumpet, so Chris heard Louis and Morton and more, but, as he says, “When I was about 14 or 15, my brother said, ‘You don’t want to hear it, you want to play it!’ so he got me a trumpet from a second-hand shop and I never looked back.”

Later, Chris played with guitarist Vic Parker. “He was born in Cardiff, played in London before and during the war. In 1940 he worked at the Embassy Club in Bond Street playing accordion and double bass with Don Marino Barreto. He can be seen in Barreto’s band during a nightclub sequence in the musical film Under Your Hat. He came back to Cardiff and I used to work with him in the Quebec every Monday and Wednesday. We had a little duo, just playing standards, and he would sing in a Cardiff accent. When you’re young, you forget so much. You can be handed the keys to the kingdom and you don’t notice. Working with Vic was like that: he was in his late 60s then, one of the nicest guys you could meet.”

Chris has also played alongside Pete Allen, Rod Mason, Kathy Stobart, Humphrey Lyttelton (whose passionate influence I hear), Buddy Tate, and Wild Bill Davison.

Chris is also a wise generous leader, someone who knows that Being Out Front Always is hard on one’s chops as well as on band morale, so each performance makes his colleagues equals rather than subordinates. One of the most moving performances here is A NIGHTINGALE SANG IN BERKELEY SQUARE, an etude for piano and two double-basses, both celebration and elegy for wartime Britain, with death, romance, and endurance intermingled.

And those colleagues! Bassist Erika Lyons appeared on a BBC master class with Ray Brown, and studied with Buster Williams, Rufus Reid, and Hal Galper. Now she plays jazz festivals all over the world. Pianist Dave Price is a deep student of jazz piano from the Thirties to tomorrow, and he has worked with Tubby Hayes, Tony Coe, Nat Adderley, and Peanuts Hucko among many others. Bassist Ashley John Long is known not only for his work with Hans Koller, Bobby Wellins, Keith Tippett and others, but for his compositions for film, television, and the concert hall.

Together, they make BACK IN YOUR OWN BACKYARD what jazz recordings should be, no matter what genre: warm, wide-awake, deeply personal.

If you go to the channel that Chris has created on YouTube, you can hear two more beauties from BACK IN YOUR OWN BACKYARD and more lovely music.

The CD offers SWEETHEARTS ON PARADE, A NIGHTINGALE SANG IN BERKELEY SQUARE, DROP ME OFF IN HARLEM, A KISS TO BUILD A DREAM ON, STRUTTIN’ WITH SOME BARBECUE, SUNDAY, ANGEL EYES, LIKE SOMEONE IN LOVE, BLACK BUTTERFLY, JEEPERS CREEPERS, BACK IN YOUR OWN BACKYARD, ALMOST LIKE BEING IN LOVE, SWINGING AT THE COPPER BEECH, BUDDY BOLDEN’S BLUES, YOU’D BE SO NICE TO COME HOME TO, VP, JUST FRIENDS — and it’s beautifully recorded. Here you can find out more — including how to purchase the disc, which I do recommend.

May your happiness increase!

HAVIN’ HERSELF A TIME: MISS IDA TRIUMPHS (Joe’s Pub, May 15, 2015)

Photographs by Kate Dulub

Photographs by Kate Dulub

Late last Friday night, I and an illustrious audience (including Terry Waldo, Mike Davis, and Mike Zirpolo) enjoyed a stirring evening of music at Joe’s Pub. Miss Ida Blue and a stunning band of New York jazzmen paid tribute to Billie Holiday in her centennial year.

Miss Ida has impressed me in her appearances with the Yerba Buena Stompers, as a delightfully personal interpreter of Twenties blues, but at Joe’s Pub she absolutely surpassed herself.  It wasn’t because she suddenly succeeded at imitating Billie or “channeling” her — but because the spirit of Thirties Billie animated her, making her even more joyously herself.  The sixteen songs she and the band delivered came from 1933 (YOUR MOTHER’S SON-IN-LAW) to 1944 (I COVER THE WATERFRONT).  Without offering a history lesson, she and the band happily evoked a singer, an era, and a world of heedless yet expert music.

MISS IDA TWO

A word about the superb band.  Like Miss Ida, they evoked rather than copied. Pianist Conal Fowkes had created arrangements that kept the contours of the original recordings without tying the musicians to the manuscript paper.  And he swung out in his own delicate yet ardent version of Teddy Wilson’s glowing style. Conal’s rhythm section mates are wonderful swingers as well, and they meshed gloriously: John Gill, guitar; Brian Nalepka, string bass; Kevin Dorn, drums.

Their pleasure was evident even when I couldn’t see their faces.  Their rhythmic rocking was a treat; they never faltered.  And the tempos were in themselves delightful and instructive: always slightly faster or slower than the original inspirations, which gave me a sense of looking at a newly cleaned masterpiece, or someone lovely who always wears black, turning up in mint green.  The most pleasing small shocks.

MISS IDA THREE

The horn soloists were uniformly eloquent: reed heroes Jay Rattman and Dan Block occasionally made me recall Buster Bailey and Lester Young, but they sounded so much like themselves that it was deeply authentic music; Block, especially, took on a  heavier tone and more definite attack than the floating Lester of that period, although his obbligatos behind Ida were touching clouds of sound.  Jon-Erik Kellso loves Buck Clayton, so occasionally he offered a ringing statement in the best Basie manner, but we wouldn’t know Jon without his plunger mute, so often there was a good deal of Cootie’s ferocity audible there. As always, his melody statements and ride-outs were lyrical, memorable.  The band sounded well-rehearsed but happily loose.

MISS IDA FOUR

Miss Ida, most appealingly, knows where she has come from, and has a sweet earnest reverence for her ancestors.  Not just Billie, but Miss Ida Cox [hence her chosen stage name] and it was very pleasing to hear her and the band do their soundcheck for us with a tough blues in honor of B.B. King, the monarch who just made the transition.  And she was so happy to be at Joe’s Pub, honored to sing for Billie and for us.  Early in the evening, she turned and waved happily at the rhythm section as if she just couldn’t believe her good fortune to be on the stand with her heroes.  Ours, too.  She told us how her hair had caught on fire at a gig (Kevin Dorn, the 007 of swingtime, rescued her); I wonder if she knows the story of Billie, the curling iron, and the gardenia — told to us by Sylvia Syms, whose recollection I trust completely.  A sign from the heavens of some destiny.

MISS IDA FIVE

Listening closely to Miss Ida (as well as the gorgeous band) I began to hear aspects of her style I’d not heard before.  For one thing — and I mean this as praise — she is a substantial stage personality.  One way this is expressed is in her nearly constant yet genuine motion, as if her energy is too strong for her to stand still.  It’s not just hair-tossing, but a continual series of dance moves that also look like yoga poses and warm-up stretches, even a jubilant marching-in-place.  Often she held her arms over her head, her hands open.  I think it was always exuberant emotion, but it was also her own expression of an ancient and honorable theatrical style . . . so that even the people in the most distant balcony of the Apollo Theatre could see you and join in with the person onstage.  And her voice matched her larger-than-life physical presence.  On a Twenties record label, she might have been billed as COMEDIENNE WITH ORCHESTRA, and that odd designation rang true.  The comedy bubbled up here and there in speech: she hails from Brooklyn, so that her sailboat in the moonlight was idling along in Sheepshead Bay.  But it also emerged delightfully in her voice: I heard echoes of Fanny Brice, of comic Eastern European melodies . . . it never sounded as if she was taking Billie or the music lightly, but as if she was having such a good time that she couldn’t help playing.  And the audience loved it.  It was SHOW in the best tradition — not caricature, but something Louis would have admired immensely.

For me, the two highlights of the evening were songs devoid of comedy but rich in feeling: the rarely-heard CARELESSLY and the more familiar I COVER THE WATERFRONT.  (A sweet sad I’LL NEVER BE THE SAME featuring Dan Block and Conal Fowkes was not far behind.)

Without a hint of self-conscious “acting,” Miss Ida let those melancholy narratives of heartbreak unfold eloquently for us.  Although I had known her almost exclusively as a blues singer, I saw her, in a blinding flash, as a deep ballad singer, someone who could break our hearts while singing of her own distress.

I could write more about the beauties of this evening, of I’M GOING TO LOCK MY HEART, of MY FIRST IMPRESSION OF YOU, and the other performances by Miss Ida and her band that impressed me so, but I will instead simply hope that she gets many more opportunities to create this wonderful evening in other places, for other audiences.

Early on in this performance, she turned to us, and grinning, said, “This is so so so exciting!”  It was and it is.

May your happiness increase!