Daily Archives: June 18, 2009

PAPER EPHEMERA, CONTINUED

Drummer and jazz scholar Kevin Dorn and I were discussing these historical drum ads at Birdland last week.  Although we delight in them, we share the same skepticism.  A drum company representative came up to George Wettling, say, and asked, “George, would you like a new set of _ _ _ _ _ drums for free?  And we’ll give you a hundred dollars to let us use your picture in an ad?”  Wettling or anyone else always could use another set of drums, as well as the money, so he posed for a photo behind the set of drums that he swore were his favorites.  Perhaps a thousand young men went out and beleaguered their parents to buy just that set because their idol played it. 

Mildly fraudulent or not, full of language we doubt the drummer himself used, these pages are enchanting.  How many times in our lives will we see Dave Tough (not Davey, mind you) advertising something in a magazine — as if people would follow his lead?  It suggests a pre-Fall universe, now vanished.  This ad (like the Ray Bauduc autograph in the previous post) is available for purchase at eBay.  A thrilling oddity, never to come again.

Tough

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RAY BAUDUC PREACHES THE GOSPEL

Aspiring novelists in Creative Writing classes are told, “Write what you know.”  In jazz, musicians play what they know; they live what they know. 

And sometimes they sign autograph books with what they know and wish to convey to us.  Hence this page inscribed by the inspiring percussionist Ray Bauduc (an artifact now up for bid on eBay). 

Ignore its message at your peril!

RAY BAUDUC

DREAMS OF CHAUTAUQUA 2009

I may have overwhelmed readers of this blog with my new enthusiasm for the Whitley Bay International Jazz Festival, less than a month away.  But I hope you understand. 

Chau foliageHowever, when falling in love with something new it would be ungracious in the extreme to forget the familiar — and, in this case, the familiar (but ecstatic) is Joe Boughton’s western New York State extravaganza, Jazz at Chautauqua.  This year the dates are September 17-20. 

I know all of the reasons people decide not to go to jazz parties.  The money.  Their health.  The potential inconvenience.  The economy.  And so on.  I would be remiss if I suggested that any of these reasons should be ignored.  But I am writing this post, of my own accord, to tempt people into Pleasure.

Although at times the modern world seems to be a gaudy hedonistic circus, I still think that Pleasure gets a bad rap.  We’re always urged to hang out with Prudence, that rather severe woman in the corner.  You know — she’s drinking water when everyone else is having Campari; she doesn’t eat anything fried, ever . . . she knows what’s in her 401K plan to the penny.  Prudence will outlive all of us.  But is she having any fun?  Do her investments make her tap her foot and bob her head?

Here endeth the sermon.  I’ll suggest, however, what the Beloved and I are looking forward to at this year’s Chautauqua:

Leaves under our feet in the walkways between the houses.  Stories, on and off the bandstand, from that bow-tied master of badinage Marty Grosz.  Joe Wilder playing SAMBA DE ORFEU.  Jon-Erik Kellso saying naughty things through his plunger mute.  Jim Dapogny rocking the piano in the parlor with a song no one’s ever heard before.  Newcomers Andy Brown (guitar), Petra van Nuis (vocal), Ehud Asherie (piano), and Tom Pletcher (cornet) making everyone lean forward, intently, when they play.  Andy Schumm, Dave Bock, and Tom bringing Bix into the Hotel Athenaeum.  Duke Heitger leading the troops through some romping ensemble.  Dan Block and Harry Allen caressing a ballad.  Rebecca Kilgore being tender or perky, as required.  Dan Barrett being himself.  Vince Giordano, likewise, and leading the best version of the Nighthawks anyone could imagine.   

I can hear it now!

I can hear it now!

That’s only a small sampling, and I mean no disrespect to the musicians I’ve left out of my list. 

So perhaps you might consider slipping out the side door while dour Prudence squats watchfully in the kitchen, making sure that no one puts butter on their bagel.  You can always explain to Prudence when you get back!  Tell her that it was your moral duty to be there.  Moral duty she understands.  And perhaps you can bring her a CD, too.

For details, prices, and availability, you can visit the Allegheny Jazz Society website at www.alleghenyjazz.com, or call the ever affable Apryl Sievert at the Hotel Athenaeum (1-800-821-1881.)  Remember, no one has yet invented a way to make carpe diem work retrospectively.

“WHERE’D YOU GET THOSE EYES?”

Daryl Sherman knows the answer to that question, and so much more.  Here she is, having the time of everyone’s life, on June 8, 2009, at the Oak Room of the Algonquin Hotel, paying tribute to Johnny Mercer — with the able help of Wycliffe Gordon, who also seems to be enjoying himself. 

The song (music by Harry Warren) comes from an otherwise frail movie, GOING PLACES, where Louis Armstrong sang it to a horse, conveniently named “Jeepers Creepers.”  This must have been one of those films where Faulkner, Huxley, or Fitzgerald had nothing to do with the screenplay.  But the equine clamor Wycliffe invents late in his solo is obviously a tribute to Louis, the film, and — dare I say it? — his own brand of horseplay.

If you’d like to hear more of Miss Sherman and Mister Gordon paying tribute to Mister Mercer, check out Daryl’s new Arbors CD — it’s a beauty!