Monthly Archives: June 2011

SOMETHING TENDER: CHRIS MADSEN, JOE POLICASTRO, ANDY BROWN

We all need beauty in our lives. 

Here’s a wonderfully singing example of it — saxophonist Chris Madsen, string bassist Joe Policastro, and guitarist Andy Brown taking their time through STARDUST — recorded June 12, 2011, at an event for the Brookfield Jazz Society. 

Chris purrs; Andy chimes; Joe supports.  Each one has a story to tell, of stardust, of love, of hope and yearning.

And since we also need community and communities, let us enjoy this trio as a living example: how Joe so lovingly plays those deep resonant notes throughout, commenting, adding, urging, without saying “Pay attention to me!”  How Chris rumbles and sings harmonies behind Andy’s ringing lines; how the trio works as a gathering of generous individuals who have chosen to make something much larger than three.  What a serene world they create, on the stand, in the mirror, in our ears!

And let me praise Cheryl Fort, who created the video: I applaud her as a kindred soul who wants to present a moving picture of what the players created.  By her restraint, her seeming reluctance to interfere through “modern” actions that draw our attention from the music to the video, she is a collaborative creator.

I don’t think this could be improved on.  A deep admiring bow and thank-you to the four of you!  (And to those fellows, Hoagy and Ben and Blanton, off in space.)

You can hear more beautiful music, including the subtle singing of Petra Van Nuis — at Andy’s YouTube channel, http://www.youtube.com/user/stringdamper.

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A THOUSAND SURPRISES

More amazing items from eBay, all related to THE KING OF JAZZ, Whiteman’s epic Hollywood debut.  The pages below are from what the seller calls the “Lavish souvenir program for a showing of the film in London.” and the “Atmospheric flyer advertising the film at the Elphinstone Picture Palace (“The House of the World’s Best Talkies”) in Calcutta, India!”

The two covers.

 That face, that face, that fabulous face!

Come with me to the cinema!

We’ll have a wonderful outing!

And . . .

THE TALKIE HITS — that’s my stuff!

This, too!

Super Extravaganza for sure.

Ah, I sigh for the film that might have been — with Bix, Bing, Lang, and Venuti featured.  Star-crossed, I think. 

A THOUSAND SURPRISES!

Thank you, oh eBay!

“FOR YOUR PRIVATE COLLECTION”

From the national attic / museum / antique store / informal auction room, eBay:

When bandleaders looked like movie stars!  I’d never seen a picture of Mr. Kahn before, and even if his secretary autographed it, this photograph is a rarity.

In a recent posting, I showed off one of my latest treasured purchases — a Pee Wee Russell 78 of JELLY ROLL and INDIANA on the short-lived Manhattan label.  Here’s the advertising brochure for three 78 sets to be sold at Nick’s — with autographs of the principal players!

Hurry, this is a limited edition.

Mr. Spanier, if you please.

Mr. Mole (born in “the country,” Freeport, Long Island).

Charles Ellsworth Russell, irreplaceable.

Jimmy Rushing didn’t look like he could move around easily (although a film clip with the Basie band shows him to be a very nimble dancer) but this document seems to say otherwise.  Entering Kansas City, Missouri, in 1930 — the beginning of great things for Jimmy and for us.

I never joined a fraternity, so all of this is somewhat mysterious . . . but I would guess that this is St. Louis, circa 1936-7?  I am sure that the college men and women danced to some fine music for $1.75 apiece.

FROM AUSTIN COMES JAZZ: HAL SMITH’S INTERNATIONAL SEXTET and FRIENDS at SACRAMENTO (May 28, 2011)

What you will see and hear below is the second half of a set of music performed outdoors at the 2011 Sacramento Jazz Jubilee by Hal Smith’s International Sextet and some musical friends from Austin, Texas. 

The Sextet is comprised of Hal, drums; Kim Cusack, tenor sax, clarinet; Anita Thomas, alto sax, clarinet; Carl Sonny Leyland, piano [in this case a keyboard, which he transformed heroically into an almost-piano]; Katie Cavera, guitar; Clint Baker, string bass. 

The guests were bassist Ryan Gould and clarinetist Stanley Smith (the latter leader of the Jazz Pharoahs). 

To give Ryan a chance to show off his bass playing, Clint switched over to cornet and there is an unannounced guest appearance by a steam train during Anita’s solo on the first song, which is a hymn to the United States Post Office (vocal by Carl), ONE SWEET LETTER FROM YOU:

Here’s a rocking HONEYSUCKLE ROSE:

And an even more exuberant closer, with Clint singing, SOMEBODY STOLE MY GAL:

Jazz al fresco!

Just a note about my title, a JAZZ LIVES in-joke.  In 1940, John Hammond arranged for a session with Bud Freeman’s Summa Cum Laude Orchestra.  A nearly perfect group with Freeman, Pee Wee Russell, Max Kaminsky, Dave Bowman, Eddie Condon, and a variety of bassists and drummers, including Mort Stuhlmaker, Clyde Newcombe, Al Sidell, Fred Moynahan, Stan King, and Dave Tough.  For the recording, Hammond (an inspired meddler) brought in Jack Teagarden instead of Gowans (for which Gowans never forgave Hammond, understandably) and the rest of the band was the same: Bud, Max, Pee Wee, Bowman, Condon, Mort Stuhlmaker, and an incandescent Tough.  The eight sides they made are in their own way as glorious as the Kansas City Seven or any Ellington small group, although only Richard M. Sudhalter, I think, has properly celebrated them.  They were (not incidentally) recorded in Liederkrantz Hall, and their sound was and is resonantly beautiful.  Search out THAT DA DA STRAIN, AFTER AWHILE, PRINCE OF WAILS, SHIM-ME-SHA-WABBLE, AT THE JAZZ BAND BALL, JACK HITS THE ROAD, FORTY-SEVENTH AND STATE, MUSKRAT RAMBLE.

WHAT does all this have to do with the title?  The Chicagoans — real, imagined, and honorary — stem from fellows who went to Austin High School, thus the title of the 78s in their album: “From Austin High COMES JAZZ.”  My title has everything to do with Austin, Texas, but I could not resist writing encomia about those 1940 sides.  If you haven’t heard them, you are missing something luminous, moving, and thrilling; if you know them but haven’t heard them recently, you will feel the same way, I am sure.

And it is a tribute to Hal Smith’s International Sextet that I associate them with these 1940 marvels!

A postscript: I was web-searching for material about the 1940 session, and found this March 1954 review of the music in the UK GRAMOPHONE by Edgar Jackson, someone I believed had taste that was allied alongside mine.  But to call Pee Wee Russell a “cackler”?  My word, indeed . . . !

Just why this has been named “Comes Jazz” I am at a loss to understand.

Jazz had ” arrived ” long before Bud Freeman and his cohorts here became prominent, towards the end of the mid-1920’s. Admittedly the music is in a mode brought about by the younger, mostly collegiate amateur, white musicians of Chicago, such as Freeman, Benny Goodman, et al, as a result of the influence of various New Orleans coloured jazz musicians who had commenced to emigrate north and made Chicago more or less their headquarters. But it adhered too closely to the New Orleans tradition to be looked upon as anything sufficiently different to warrant any suggestion that it was a new jazz, let alone one which came to be accepted as the jazz. That distinction remained then, as it still does, the honour of the original New Orleans jazz.

Furthermore the purists will tell you that for all their enthusiasm the Chicagoans missed something of the basic New Orleans character that was the essence of what they still call true jazz, and that in fact there was something slightly phoney about their music.

As time went on, and jazz became even more adulterated by the dictates of “commerciality”, this accusation was dropped. For at any rate the Chicagoans had come much nearer to playing real jazz than did such other so-called jazz bands of the time, as for instance Paul Whiteman’s, and to-day Chicago jazz is accepted as more or less righteous.

This LP shows that some of the practitioners of Chicago style deserve the esteem in which they are still held, but that others do not.

Taking Freeman’s Chicagoans as a group, and remembering that these records by them were made in 1940, by when all those who were ever going to understand must have reached that stage, we find an ensemble which is not only technically competent, but which, with the excellent Dave Tough driving it exhilaratingly, also swings in the better sense of the word.

But the solos are not all so impressive. Jack Teagarden proves that he well merits the great reputation he has for so long enjoyed. Max Kaminsky also does well. So does Freeman himself, except that his style has dated somewhat noticeably and his ideas are rather limited. He is best remembered for his work in The Eel by Eddie Condon’s Orchestra (Parlophone R28o7), and no matter what the tune might be, Bud always still played The Eel.

Of Pee Wee Russell I am afraid I can only say that he indicates all too clearly that he was never much more than a cackler whose melodic lines were more conspicuous for the ” jazzy ” way in which he played them than for anything worth praising in their construction.

Which leaves among the soloists pianist Dave Bowman—the problem child of the proceedings because his style is a curious mixture of Chicago, New Orleans and ragtime. But somehow he gets there all the same.

Thank you, Mr. Jackson.  Here in the Colonies we have a saying, “There’s no accounting for the lack of taste.”

MOONLIGHT PICNIC: JESSE GELBER and KATE MANNING

If you woke up this morning with a yearning for something more endearing than the caress of your hand on your iPhone, something more romantic than coffee in a cardboard cup . . . if you long for something to touch the heart more directly than the friendship of Facebook, may I recommend this new CD?  It might not be the Magic Eraser for all that’s annoying in this century, but it feels like a spiritual panacea in musical form. 

Jesse Gelber is a fine laconic pianist — his playing can summon up the right-hand epigrams of the great Harlem ticklers but I also hear the brisk cadences of nineteenth-century parlor piano and a hint of Garner.  His partner in time is songbird Kate Manning, who can belt as forcibly as any Broadway star, but here displays a sweet, resonant tonality that will woo even the coolest character.  On this CD, they are surrounded by New York’s finest — not the NYPD, but Charlie Caranicas on hot (often muted) trumpet and cornet; Kevin Dorn on drums; Andrew Hall or Doug Largent on drums; Matt Munisteri or Eric Baldwin on guitar.  The songs date from the first half of the last century, but they are not at all dated — the performances by this band are neither self-consciously ironic (“Look at how corny these old songs were!  Look us US!”) nor are they museum-quality respectfully nostalgic: Gelber and Manning seem to be having fun, and that feeling is contagious in the nicest way.  And the CD also offers two of their ingenious, hummable originals — one of them the disc’s title song. 

If you’d like to hear snippets from the CD (and I assure you that snippets won’t be enough) here’s a link:

http://www.cdbaby.com/cd/gelbermanning2

Here’s more about the team of Gelber and Manning — available for all kinds of festivities, and capable of making the dullest day festive:

http://www.katesmithpromotions.com/artists/gelber_and_manning.html

And on their website (http://gelberandmanning.com/) you can watch a video of one of their web-productions, GINTOWN . . . very much inside the loop!

ROCK AND ROLL WITH CARL SONNY LEYLAND, MARTY EGGERS, HAL SMITH at SACRAMENTO (May 28, 2011)

One of the highlights of the 2011 Sacramento Jazz Jubilee was getting to meet the great jazz drummer Hal Smith in person.  I’d heard him on records (and eventually seen him in videos) for twenty-five years, but to hang out with him and see him play was a deep pleasure. 

I had recorded some fine music by the Carl Sonny Leyland trio — that’s the barrelhouse pianist and singer Carl, solid-as-a-rock string bassist Marty, and Hal — where I (perhaps appropriately) set up my camera so that you and I could admire Carl’s neat fingering, his joyously gutty singing.  For this set, I decided (in the ancient jazz phrase) to “give the drummer some,” and you will get to see as well as hear why Hal is so respected by musicians and listeners — the variety of tonal colors he offers from his drum set, his intense but relaxed swing. 

Here are five performances from a May 28, 2011 set.  They remind us of what rock and roll originally meant!

Carl recreated Tampa Red’s suggestion that we be loving and honest — hinting at the dark rewards for those who told fibs and falsehoods or bent the truth — DON’T YOU LIE TO ME:

Then, a little “postcard” for one of the most  warm-hearted, spiritually generous people it will ever be my privilege to know — Aunt Ida Melrose Shoufler.  She is the surviving child of the legendary pianist / composer Frank Melrose, a jazz and blues lover (she plays the piano and sings, too) and I am proud to be able to send her this little video.  (I met her through Hal — another thing I have to thank him for!)  Here’s a romping Chicago version of a sweet late-Twenties pop song, MY HONEY’S LOVIN’ ARMS, which I associate with fellows named Crosby and Condon, who also happened to admire one another:

Don’t play near those tracks, boy.  Don’t you know that Cripple Clarence Lofton’s  STREAMLINE TRAIN is coming?

Another Twenties pop song (I think of Helen Humes and the Basie boys when I hear it), SONG OF THE WANDERER, made truly groovy by this trio:

And a piece of Americana that I believe dates from 1919, MARGIE:

What a band!

TREASURE ISLAND, 2011

As a young jazz fan, I acquired as many records as I could by musicians and singers I admired.  (There was an Earl Hines phase, a Tatum infatuation, a Ben Webster obsession among many.)  The impulse is still there, but economics, space, and selectivity have tempered it somewhat.  I’ve written elsewhere about Wanting and Having and Enjoying, and those states of being are in precarious balance.

But these philosophical considerations don’t stop me from being excited at the thought of visiting Hudson, New York, once again — and my favorite antique store, “Carousel,” on Warren Street.

Carousel was once a “National Shoe Store,” as it says on the floor in the entrance way, and it specializes in a variety of intriguing goods — furniture, books, planters, metalwork . . . but in the very back of the store, past the cash register most often supervised by the exceedingly pleasant Dan, is a galaxy of records.  I skip the 45s and go to the stacks of 10″ 78s, the browsers full of 12″ lps and one devoted solely to 10″ lps (where one might find THE DINAH SHORE TV SHOW and BRAD GOWANS’ NEW YORK NINE).

Here’s what I found — and purchased — one day last week. 

Richard M. Jones was a pianist and composer who accompanied blues singers, led a few dates in the Twenties . . . and this one in 1944.  The rarity of this 10″ French Vogue vinyl reissue is evident.  The original tracks (four by Jones, two by the ebullient trumpeter Punch Miller) were recorded in Chicago for the Session label — 12″ 78s — with a band including the under-recorded Bob Shoffner, wonderfully boisterous trombonist Preston Jackson, and the heroic Baby Dodds.  I’d seen these sides listed in discographies for years, and the Sessions appeared on a vinyl issue on the Gannet label (with alternate takes!) but I’ve never heard them . . . and any version of NEW ORLEANS HOP SCOP BLUES is all right with me.  I haven’t heard the music yet, but have high hopes.

 Decca and Brunswick collected four-tune recording sessions as GEMS OF JAZZ and the more pugnacious BATTLE OF JAZZ.  Zutty didn’t record many times as a leader, and this is one of the rarer sessions: 1936, I think, with hot Chicagoans who didn’t reach great fame.  I had these four sides (once upon a time) on sunburst Deccas . . . gone now, so I anticipate hot music here. 

(The shadow above speaks to the haste of JAZZ LIVES’ official photographer.)

The four sides above have often been reissued, although the most recent Tatum Decca CD split them between Tatum and Big Joe Turner.  No matter: they are imperishable, not only for Big Joe, in pearly form, but for the pairing of Joe Thomas and Ed Hall, saints and scholars.

Now for two rare 78s: their music reissued on European vinyl and CD, but how often do the original discs surface?

Whoever Herman was, he had good taste.  The WAX label was the brainchild of solid reliable string bassist Al Hall in 1946-7: its output might have been twenty sides (including a piano recital by Jimmy Jones) using the best musicians one could find in New York or the world.  Herman bought the first issue!

That quintet wasn’t made up of stars — except for Ben — but they were all splendid creative improvisers.

Is the next 78 more rare?  It might be . . .

I believe these 78s were made especially for purchase at the club — and Eddie Condon might have been under exclusive contract with Decca at the time (on other sides, I recall the guitarist as being the much more elusive Fred Sharp).  I recently looked up Joe Grauso in John Chilton’s WHO’S WHO IN JAZZ and was saddened to find that he had died in 1952, which is why we have so little of him aside from the Commodores and the Town Hall Concert broadcasts.

I love the composer credit.  Makes perfect sense, doesn’t it?