Adventures in jazz discography follow.

Because my friend Agustin Perez (proprietor of the wonderful blog “Mule Walk & Jazz Talk,” often devoted to stride piano) asked me for some information, I’ve been thinking a great deal about Fats Waller’s uneven Carnegie Hall concert of 1942.  And my very hip readers are on the same wavelength, because two people searching for “Fats Waller,” “Carnegie Hall,” “lost acetates,” found this blog.

So — as a brief respite from grading student essays — let me share my ruminations on this subject and a related one — the 1944 Memorial Concert.

fats-jpegIf ever anyone deserved his own concert, it would have been Fats — for his compositions, his joyous playing and singing, his ability to become an entire orchestra at the piano, to say nothing of the way he could drive a band.  And the 1942 Carnegie Hall concert (an idea of Ernie Anderson’s) would have been splendid except for Fats’s nervousness and the resulting over-imbibing.

Eddie Condon recalled that the second half of the concert was nearly disastrous, with Fats unable to free himself from “Summertime.”  (Condon’s recollections come from his WE CALLED IT MUSIC, and the later EDDIE CONDON’S SCRAPBOOK OF JAZZ, and there are some comments — and photographs by Charles Peterson — in the book of Peterson’s photographs, SWING ERA NEW YORK.  Several of them show Fats getting dressed and are thus scarily irreplaceable.)

I don’t think that I need recordings of Fats imprisoned in “Summertime,” but two tantalizing pieces of recorded evidence do remain, both impressive.

One is a duet for Fats and Lips Page, an unbeatable idea, playing the blues both slow and fast.  I never think of Fats as a compelling blues player, but he is in splendid form alongside Lips, and the duet ends too soon . . . about an hour too soon for my taste.  It was originally issued on a French bootleg lp (Palm Club) and an American one (Radiola) and most recently was dropped into the French Neatwork CD of Lips Page alternate takes, probably out of print.

The other comes from the closing jam session, and is predictably HONEYSUCKLE ROSE, with Max Kaminsky, Bud Freeman, PeeWee Russell, Condon, John Kirby, and Gene Krupa — issued circa 1974 on the very first Jazz Archives lp (one of the many labels invented by Jerry Valburn), CHICAGO STYLE.  This suggests that Valburn, who had resources beyond my imagination and a phenomenal jazz collection — his Ellington collection is now in the Library of Congress — had managed to acquire the acetates of the concert.  From whom, from whence, I cannot say.

What interests me even more is both Waller and Valburn-related: music recorded at the 1944 Waller Memorial Concert.  One track, a rather lopsided LADY BE GOOD by the “Mezz Mezzrow Sextet,” turned up on a Valburn collection devoted to Ben Webster.  Ben is there for sure, alongside a piping Mezz and an unidentified tenor player, possibly Gene Sedric, a pianist who paddles away in the background rather mechanically, Sidney Catlett doing the best he could, and a trombonist mis-identified as Dicky Wells who clearly is Trummy Young.

Others who appeared at the concert were James P. Johnson, Art Hodes, and Frank Newton — and, as readers of this blog know, the possibility of hearing some otherwise unknown Newton would make my year.  Valburn also issued two songs from the concert performed by a Teddy Wilson sextet — HONEYSUCKLE ROSE, again, and a blues called GET THE MOP, on a Lips Page anthology full of errors, famously.  First, the record was called “Play the Blues in B,” which few musicians would think of doing — those blues were audibly in the most common key of Bb; Lips didn’t play with the Wilson group (Emmett Berry, Benny Morton, Ed Hall, Wilson, Al Hall, and Catlett), and the final track on the recording had Paul Quinichette identified as Lester Young even though Lips hailed his tenor player by name.   Such things might not seem important to those beyond the pale, but they received a good deal of attention from the faithful.  Valburn also issued an AIN’T MISBEHAVIN’ by the whole Basie band — including the real Lester — on a Lester compilation on his “Everybody’s” label.

Where’s the rest of this music?  Could we hear it now?  Please?

6 responses to “FATS WALLER AT CARNEGIE HALL, 1942 (and 1944)

  1. Is Jerry Valburn, who enhanced my career by recording me with two giants – Wellstood & Grosz – still sentient, or rampant if you like? AND – do we get some audio clips of the more bearable of the above cited discs??…sam p

  2. I hope that Jerry is alive and well in Florida: when I was a young collector mingling with the senior fellows of that esoteric breed at the Prince George Hotel in midtown New York, Jerry was kind and more to me — and his reissues, even when incorrect, brought us priceless music. As well as your TAKE ME TO THAT LAND OF JAZZ, which cries out for CD reissue.

  3. I hang my head in faux-shame: I haven’t yet figured out how to add audio to this blog. I know it would be wonderful, but I am terrified of spending even more time in front of the monitor and keyboard than I do now. If someone wishes to offer suggestions on how to add audio EASILY, I will be grateful.

  4. Hey Jazz – A skilled engineer transferred both of Valburn’s Aviva LPs to CD for me; will gladly supply. I can’t imagine Jerry wanting to do it at this point in his life and in this market. Oh — and Jerry showed me a bit of sartorial elegance I would have missed: A large bronze belt buckle with the legendary ‘Nipper’ RCA VIctor logo engraved thereupon. Went right out and got one. And if you look at the original ca 1907 painting, you’ll see that the artist painted over a cylinder machine with a disc playback. He was an HMV employee whose dog it was; took the painting to his bosses – “We’ll use it if you make it a disc player”. Working for Victor had its uses…

  5. Jerry helped me out big time once. I had stored some of my LPs at another collector’s home and when I wasn’t able to move them, the guy became ‘threatful’. I knew Jerry and called him and told him the situation. Almost instantly, the other collector called me and said ‘no problem, no rush, no worries’.

    And one day I was thrilled to find I owned a piece of Ellingtonia that Jerry did not – Ellington orch on the Ed Sullivan show playing a medley of Beatles songs. I turned it over to JV just so that a ‘rare’ piece of Duke was at home with others of its kind.

  6. Michael

    You may want to ask Ricky Riccardi on how to add audio to JazzLives, as he usually does it to his Armstrong blog.


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