Feeling low? Got a parking ticket? Can’t shake that nasty cold? Worried about the bills? Did you burn the toast?
It’s going to be all right. In fact, it’s already all right.
Make yourself to home and listen to this music. Or — if you’re swiffing around, turn up the volume and feel the deep swinging joy this band creates.
They’re Ray Skjelbred’s First Thursday Band, caught live at the New Orleans Restaurant in Seattle, Washington, on December 1, 2011. They are Ray Skjelbred, piano / leader; Steve Wright, cornet, clarinet, alto and soprano saxes; Dave Brown, string bass; Mike Daugherty, drums.
And — in the spirit of the season — do you hear what I hear? I hear a real jazz band. “What’s that?” I hear someone in the back saying. Well, that’s an improvising group where all the members love the music and work together towards the same purpose, supporting one another in a gritty joyousness appropriate to the song, picking up each others’ cues, playing witty follow-the-leader so that one hears simultaneously a quartet and four strong-minded individualists taking their own path to get to their own versions of Jazz Paradise.
I also hear echoes of Pee Wee Russell, Rod Cless, Fud Livingston, Guy Kelly, Doc Poston, Earl Hines, Frank Melrose, Wellman Braud, Milton J. Hinton, Pops Foster, Eddie Dougherty (a relation, perhaps?), George Wettling — all embodied on December 1, 2011, by living creators who have absorbed the tradition and made it their own. Who cares if people fight cyber-skirnishes in the blogosphere about whether “J**z” is alive or dead? Call this by whatever polite name you like: it is most certainly alive.
The first song and performance that caught my attention was LOVE ME TONIGHT, which is associated in my mind with Earl Hines and Bing Crosby — one hell of a pair! It is a lovely song: with lyrics, one of the most insinuating seduction lyrics I know (perhaps more wooing than A HUNDRED YEARS FROM TODAY): a carpe diem pointed towards the bedroom. But here it’s a bit more lowwdown, suggesting that Chicago jazz was a powerful aphrodisiac as well:
And here’s a lowdown Commodore JADA:
Something unusual from Mister Piano Man — a little solo tribute to someone quite forgotten, Cassino Simpson. All most of us know of him is that he worked with Tiny Parham and did his own Chicago gigs, before succumbing to mental instability. After he unsuccessfully tried to kill Frankie “Half-Pint” Jaxon, he was institutionalized and I believe he spent the rest of his life there. The noble John Steiner took recording equipment to Simpson and recorded him playing piano in 1942: the results, very hard to find even fifty years ago, appeared on a Paramont 10″ lp, which I’ve heard but never seen. Mister Skjelbred gives us a window into the blues — the Cassino Simpson way:
And something pretty, soulful, as well as funky: Ellington’s BLACK BEAUTY:
Here’s a truly mournful TRAV’LIN ALL ALONE (Ethel Waters – Jimmie Noone – Kenny Davern tempo, not Billie’s ironic bounce):
And a rather obscure tune from 1936 — I associate it only with Henry “Red” Allen, but that’s sufficient pedigree for anyone — NOTHING’S BLUE BUY THE SKY:
Something else from Red (circa 1933), his affirmation that everything is really OK — THE RIVER’S TAKIN’ CARE OF ME:
And the song that could stand as the band’s secondary title, summing up their attitude towards their work and their art, LIVIN’ IN A GREAT BIG WAY (think of Bill Robinson, Fats Waller, and Jeni LeGon in STORMY WEATHER). Ray sings the delectable lyrics softly, but you might consider memorizing them — you could do far worse for a mantra to get you through every day:
What exquisite music — delicate and raunchy at the same time!
P.S. I don’t want to be especially preachy, but I would like all the youthful musicians in the house to watch and listen closely to these clips — for the deep unspoken unity of the quartet, the shifting sound-textures, and numberless virtues. Mister Skjelbred doesn’t cover the keyboard with runs and arpeggios (unless he wants to); his left hand is integral to his playing; he could be a whole orchestra but doesn’t trample on anyone. Mister Wright knows everything there is to know about “tonation and phrasing”: not a note is out of place and each one has its own purpose, its own sound. And, children, there were ways of playing the alto saxophone that Charles Parker did not render obsolete. Mister Daugherty does so much with so few cymbals — bless him! — he knows what his snare drum and bass drum are for; he swings those wire brushes, and he is always listening. And Mister Brown, whether plucking or bowing, gets a deep resonant yet flexible sound out of his bass. Want to know what kind of amplifier he uses? It’s called LOVE. And although he can play the guitar beautifully, he doesn’t turn his string bass into one. There! I have spoken. Learn it to the younguns!