Over the past fourteen years, I’ve been privileged to have many conversations, serious and hilarious, with the most admirable musician Jon-Erik Kellso. He picks his words carefully, often as whimsical commentaries on some passing absurdity. Jon doesn’t need twenty choruses to speak his piece, but what he says is solid.
Thus it was a pleasure and a surprise to find this video interview done by the gracious Monk Rowe for the Fillius Jazz Archive at Hamilton College September 1997 (at that time I’d heard and admired Jon on recordings but hadn’t yet encountered him in person) at Jazz at Chautauqua . . . those familiar with the Hotel Athenaeum will recognize the wallpaper.
Monk leads Jon-Erik through his fortunate blossomings as a musician, improviser, and trumpeter: along the way there are quiet irreplaceable insights about the trumpet’s role in the improvising ensemble, a loving tribute to Milt Hinton, and much more.
I’m not sure what Jon-Erik, in 2018, thinks of his young self, but this boyish fellow acquits himself with easy grace:
For many more of these wonderful interviews, some done by eminent musicians as well as the amiable Mr. Rowe, visit here. And for a splendidly tonic infusion of the Kellso magic — cage-free and organic — check this out.
As a way for musicians to express themselves, the duet can be compelling, also greatly revealing: no place to hide. But with Dan Barrett, trombone, and Joel Forbes, string bass, there’s no reason for concealment.
Here they are, in duet on LULLABY OF THE LEAVES, performed at the much-missed Cleveland Classic Jazz Party on September 16, 2017:
and here is the composer, Bernice Petkere (1901-2000), whose other memorable song is CLOSE YOUR EYES:
Although she studied sociology and economics as a university student in South Korea, she came to New York City a few years ago and began devoting herself to the study of jazz piano, composition, and arranging. You can find out more about her path — from Seoul to swing here.
Her 2017 performance / arrangement of HONEYSUCKLE ROSE will tell you more than her brief biography. That’s Luca Rosenfeld, string bass, and Doron Tirosh, drums:
Here’s another side of her — lyrical, questing, pensive. The song is Bud Powell’s DUSK IN SANDI, which Jinjoo came to make her own with some friendly assistance from Coach Barry Harris:
Jinjoo has recorded a trio EP, I’M CURIOUS (Gut String Records) which will be out at the end of February. I’ll have more to say about it then, but it finds her playing her compositions — quirky and lively — with wonderful support from Neal Miner, string bass, and Jimmy Wormworth, drums.
Neal, Jimmy, Jinjoo
Until then, her website offers a good deal of music. Although young, she has a true talent, as you will find out. And here is her Facebook page for even more current information.
At times, I find the world of 2018 terribly destabilizing and cold. I live in the middle of an insular community, so the percentage of people who will respond to “Good morning,” a smile, and eye contact, is small.
I understand the reasons: I am not of the tribe (and there are many tribes from which one might be excluded); I am not known; I am male; I might very well say something inappropriate after that salutation. “Don’t talk to strangers!” is still strong.
But I think in this world, full of sharp edges, we might do worse than smile at people we don’t know.
The essential soundtrack is a song that used to be familiar and easy: Chris Tyle says that he used to play it as the first tune on a gig: that shows characteristic good taste. It is, on the surface, a love song — your love shows through in the way you smile at me — but it is also a song about the possibility of a love that is less specific, more embracing. That might save us.
There are many versions of SMILES on YouTube — pretty and respectful performances from 1918, with the verse, to more recent ones by swing / New Orleans bands. But the latter are too speedy for me, as if the bands are trying to show how well and hot they play by increasing the tempo. As a smile might grow gradually and naturally, this song — to me — needs to be played at a singable tempo, to let the feeling emerge as it would in a real encounter.
I am happy that I can share the version that has stayed with me for thirty-plus years, one of John Hammond’s best but unheralded ideas, of merging “pop” vocalists Eddy Howard and Chick Bullock with superb small bands.
Once it was fashionable to sneer at Chick as dull and overly earnest. Yes, he can sound like Uncle Charles deciding to sing, but he is much more subtle than that, and his homemade quality is eminently appealing on material like this. Without doing too much, he sounds as if he believes the lyrics and he believes in the song, and his gentle affectionate conviction is warming.
Here, on December 6, 1940, he was accompanied by Bill Coleman, trumpet; Benny Morton, trombone; Edmond Hall, clarinet; Bud Freeman, tenor saxophone; Teddy Wilson, piano; Eddie Gibbs, guitar; Billy Taylor, Sr., string bass; Yank Porter, drums. With the exception of Freeman, so inspired here, this was one version of the band Wilson led at Cafe Society Downtown. I’ve always listened to this record several times, once for Chick, once for the band, and more. How much music they fit into this 78 through split choruses and obbligati!
I hope this music inspires some readers to smile in general, and to try this radically humane act in the larger world. The worst thing that can happen is that one might be greeted with an emotionless stare or suspicion, but I’ve found that there are kindred souls in the universe who will — even shyly — make eye contact. Such connections might be all we have, and they are worth cherishing.
If you don’t get to St. Louis often, these two people may be unfamiliar to you. But they make excellent music.
You say you’d like to hear some? Consider this — a short film by Bill Streeter:
and this, which pairs Ethan with Valerie Kirschhoff:
A friend told me about Ethan and Valerie, and I’ve been listening to their CDs with great pleasure. I know that comparisons are not only odious, but they cause one to lose friends, but Ethan and Valerie, together or singly, have got it. By “it” I mean a certain easy authority and authenticity: when they perform their special music — the low-down St. Louis blues, rags, and pop of the time — I don’t feel as if they are children playing at being adults, nor do I feel that I am listening to copies of 78s. (However, if they’d been born a century ago, you would, I am sure, know them from their recordings on Paramount, Bluebird, and Decca. They’re that much in the groove.)
Ethan and Valerie have a certain brash tenderness that is very much appealing, and although I hear echoes of certain performers (famous and obscure) I hear the personalities of these two — in this century — coming right at me. This is rare and delicious, and even when they perform songs that are by today’s standards “ancient,” they seem full of emotion and fun.
And they are not shallow: by that I mean that certain young “stride” pianists have taught themselves AIN’T MISBEHAVIN’ and four other tunes; certain young singers know GOD BLESS THE CHILD and FINE AND MELLOW . . . and then it’s time for a break. One of the pleasures of the three CDs I have on hand: THE ST. LOUIS STEADY GRINDERS, MISS JUBILEE: “THROW ME IN THE ALLEY,” and Ethan’s solo piano offering, THE LOW-DOWN PIANO, is the scholarly breadth of their chosen repertoire. It’s not simply a non-stop parade of twelve-bar blues (incidentally, the closing video of this blog shows Valerie, with ukulele and friends, including Marty Eggers, making a meal of MURDER IN THE MOONLIGHT, which belongs to Mound City hero Red McKenzie, although Marty Grosz has brought it back in recent times).
In his solo recital, Ethan plays compositions by Romeo Nelson, Little Brother Montgomery, Jabo Williams, Montana Taylor, and others in addition to the expected heroes; I was familiar with two of the sixteen compositions on the GRINDERS CD, and MISS JUBILEE dips happily into Thirties ephemera, including THE DUCK’S YAS YAS YAS and JERRY THE JUNKER. (In fact, on that CD — with friends — the overall effect is somewhere between Clarence Williams and the Lil Hardin Armstrong small groups, with a dash of the Washboard Rhythm Kings, and completely refreshing — a kind of hot elegant rawness, a wild oxymoron that will make sense with the first listening.)
I am not writing as much as I might, because I’d rather listeners go to the videos and sound samples to enjoy for themselves. Ethan and Valerie have put up many videos on YouTube, and they have an expansive online presence, as one must these days.
Hereis Ethan’s website. And here is the site for MISS JUBILEE — the aptly-named group Valerie and Ethan co-lead. And the Facebook page for the ST. LOUIS STEADY GRINDERS— who also live up to their proud title, never faltering or hesitating.
You can listen to excerpts from and buy MISS JUBILEE’s CDs hereand the same is true for Ethan’s solo piano CD here.
They are very welcome: they make the best noises, and they spread joy in all directions.
The eBay treasure chest is overflowing with delights, and occasionally the treasures are startling. I’ve come to expect autographed records and photographs and concert programs, as well as little scraps of paper cut from someone’s autograph book. There’s been a recent flurry of checks — bearing the signature of an otherwise obscure musician on the back as the necessary endorsement. And more, some of it dross.
I am always slightly ambivalent about the rarities coming to light. On one hand, what a joy to see relics and artifacts that one never knew existed. On the other, I feel melancholy that these offerings are (plausibly) because collectors age and die, need money, and their heirs are understandably eager to convert the fan’s collection into something more useful at the mall. But it’s all just objects, and they go from one hand to another: better this than the recycling bin.
To get to the point: I found on eBay this morning a trove of one-of-a-kind color slides of jazz musicians in performance, captured between 1949 and 1955 in Cleveland and Chicago, possibly elsewhere. Each is offered for $50 or the best offer, and here is the link. An explanation is here: the slides were from the collection of one Nat Singerman, but I have learned they were taken by his brother Harvey, as explained in the comments below. (As a caveat: I have no idea of the process by which these items came to be offered for sale, so if the provenance is murky, I plead ignorance.)
The musicians Harvey photographed are (in no order of merit): Miff Mole, Buddy Rich, Earl Hines, Oscar Peterson, Patti Page, Art Hodes, Jonah Jones, Louis Jordan, Jim Robinson, J.C. Higginbotham, Eddie Heywood, Darnell Howard, Lee Collins, Louis Prima, Flip Phillips, Oscar Pettiford, Freddie Moore, Red Norvo, Tal Farlow, Charles Mingus, Pee Wee Hunt, Juanita Hall. They were caught in action at clubs, the State Theatre in Cleveland, a rib restaurant, and elsewhere. (Flip, Rich, and others may have been on a JATP tour.) It’s a powerful reminder of just how much live music there was in this country. Here are a few samples, but go see for yourselves before they are all purchased. As some anonymous pitchman once said, “When they’re gone, they’re gone!” I am not involved in this beyond this blogpost: I spent the February budget for such things on photographs of Vic Dickenson and Sidney Catlett.
J.C. Higginbotham and “Chuck” at the Pinwheel Cafe, 1949, as Harvey’s careful label shows:
Darnell Howard, with Lee Collins in the background, presumably at the BeeHive in 1949:
and a shot of the full front line, with Miff Mole (the rhythm section may have had Don Ewell on piano):
Flip Phillips, at Cleveland’s State Theatre in 1949:
Jonah Jones, posing outside the Cab Calloway band bus, parked at the Circle Theatre in Cleveland, October 1951:
Tal Farlow, Red Norvo, Charles Mingus, Chicago, July 1951:
Oscar Pettiford, Loop Lounge, Cleveland, September 1955. Thanks to Loren Schoenberg, we have a winner — that’s Ben Webster to the right:
The rest you’ll have to find for yourselves. But what a cache of marvels, and the treasure chest seems bottomless. And the imagined soundtracks reverberate gloriously.
To get us in the proper mood, here are Ruby Braff and Dick Hyman investigating Benny Carter’s ONCE UPON A TIME, a performance that has its light-hearted moments and a very touching ending:
and why stop with one performance only? SWEET SAVANNAH SUE is one of my favorite recordings of the thousands Ruby created:
Dan’s first musing on Ruby mentions some mutual friends — Ruby’s bio-discographer Tom Hustad, Sam Margolis, Jack Bradley, Loren Schoenberg — but keeps on returning to the well-seasoned enigma that was Ruby himself:
Here is a musical interlude whose relevance will become clear to the conscientious:
More tales of Ruby, Dick Gibson, Ruby in hospice, friends and former friends:
Finally, Ruby and Dick Sudhalter, Ruby as record reviewer, and sidelights on Kenny Dorham and Miles Davis, who will be the subject of the next videos:
I find Dan’s reminiscences invaluable. He was there. But more than that, his sharp, friendly observations make a scene come alive. And he’s taught me an invaluable lesson about interviewing . . . to stay out of the interviewee’s way. I’ve learned that Dan’s zigzag paths are much more interesting than any list of questions I might have prepared. Take it from me.
When I go to my computer in the morning — a twenty-first century act as natural to us as making a fire in the stove for breakfast must have been years ago — and I see that the Complete Morton Project (a/k/a Andrew Oliver at the piano and David Horniblow at the clarinet, bass clarinet, or alto saxophone) has been at it again while I have been sleeping or attempting to grade student essays, my first feeling is pride — pride that I am living in a world where such beauty is being regularly given to us for free. Of course, my second thought is, “Oh, no! I’m falling behind!” But David and Andrew have been very forgiving, and I have received no lowered grades for tardiness. And they offer their creations open-handedly and open-heartedly.
Here is the aptly named PEP:
and the NEW ORLEANS BUMP, which should induce dancing everywhere.
I especially like David’s growly evocation of Cecil Scott and other “dirty” clarinetists — the world as it was before Benny smoothed everything out:
There’s more information and music here on Andrew’s blog — which also shows off the considerable talents of the Vitality Five and the Dime Notes — and you can subscribe to these weekly YouTube bouquets of sound here. And (while I was tidying up the kitchen) the Vitality Five issued their February 2018 e-78: details here.
How will I keep up? I don’t know. But it’s a delightful struggle for sure.
That’s Jeff Hamilton, piano; Clint Baker, cornet; Robert Young, bass saxophone, brought to us by rara avis Eric Whittington of Bird & Beckett Booksat
653 Chenery Street, San Francisco, California: (415) 586-3733, and captured on video by the indefatigable RaeAnn Berry of that same city.
Photograph by Angela Bennett
I needed to share CRAZY RHYTHM with you for Jeff’s splendidly playful introduction and what happens next:
Clint switches to clarinet for IF I HAD YOU:
and sings on a frolicsome I’M CRAZY ‘BOUT MY BABY:
What musical evening would be complete without Alex Hill’s DELTA BOUND?
Bird and Beckett offers a variety of music, readings — a wise comfortable place. And books. Of course.
At this writing, RaeAnn has posted fifteen videos, found here. Her YouTube channel introduced me to the wonders of California hot almost a decade ago, so I value her continued work.
And to Clint, Jeff, Robert, and Eric: thanks for keeping the heat on. We need it.
When it’s good, you know it. When it’s sublime, you feel it. Here are four previously unseen treasures from the sprawling JAZZ LIVES vault of video sweetness, recorded at the Hotel Athenaeum in Chautauqua, New York, on September 23, 2012, during the delightful gathering of cosmic energies once called “Jazz at Chautauqua,” the creation of Joe Boughton and then Nancy Hancock Griffith.
We take so much for granted, and on paper, this set might just have seemed another pleasing interlude in a long weekend of delights — a Sunday-brunch set focused on the music of Louis Armstrong. With other players, even such an inspiring theme could have turned into genial formula. But not with Jon-Erik Kellso, trumpet; Bob Havens, trombone; Scott Robinson, metal clarinet, tenor saxophone, and taragoto; John Sheridan, piano; Kerry Lewis, string bass; Pete Siers, drums.
How they soar. How tenderly they caress the music. You’ll experience it for yourselves.
First, a WEARY BLUES that gently piles delight upon delight, a great piece of Hot Architecture reaching toward the sky:
and, with some priceless commentary from Scott Robinson — erudite comedy gently coming to earth as a loving tribute to Joe Muranyi, who loved to play BIG BUTTER AND EGG MAN:
“Right on it,” as they say, with Mr. Robinson on the tenor, for ONCE IN A WHILE, where the rhythm section shines:
If the closing ninety seconds of that performance doesn’t make you jubilant, then perhaps you should consider seeing a specialist.
What could be better to close off such a glorious episode than an expression of gratitude, in this case, THANKS A MILLION, beginning with a Kellso-Sheridan duet on the verse:
I find that performance incredibly tender: gratitude not only from the musicians to the audience, but to Louis and the worlds he created for us.
Perhaps it’s true that “you can’t go home again,” but if I could book a flight to Buffalo in the certainty that I would see this band again, I’d be packed and ready. Maybe it’s because I can’t get back to this morning in September 2012 in some temporal way that I feel so deeply the precious vibrations these ministers of swinging grace offer us. Bless them. It was a privilege to be there, an honor to be allowed to capture this for posterity.
Watch this with full attention; savor it; share it; exult in it. Let us never take beauty for granted.
As the Silvercup bread sign used to say, radiant in the night sky, BAKED WHILE YOU SLEEP. Or SWUNG WHILE YOU REST. Whatever: those men are here again, David Horniblow, clarinet and bass clarinet; Andrew Oliver, piano — for their and our weekly benevolence of Jelly Roll Morton.
That Tinge again . . . sensuous and undulating (a composition Jelly only recorded for Allan Lomax at the Library of Congress sessions):
Here’s DIRTY, DIRTY, DIRTY — a 1940 composition that sounds as if it is going to be very simple and has its own twists and turns. (I wonder how often it was played on the jukeboxes?) And the combination of low-register bass clarinet and luminous piano is quite intoxicating:
Subscribe to their YouTube channel here — or enjoy all six offerings with fine commentary on Andrew’s blog here. Fine music, intelligent compact explications, and inspiring generosity from these two stellar players.
Wait. You haven’t had enough IRRESISTIBLE JAZZ for the moment? Look at what The Vitality Five is up to, and you’ll recognize some splendid hot players here as well (David, Andrew, Michael McQuaid, Nicholas Ball, Martin Wheatley):
For the story behind this riotous explosion of joys, please visit part oneand part twoof JAZZ LIVES’ exclusive multi-media coverage, where I posted all of The Microscopic Septet’s set. Very little could follow Dave Sewelson’s passionate singing of I GOT A RIGHT TO CRY, but saxophonist-visionary Phillip Johnston did not want us to go out into the snowy night feeling lachrymose.
He’d asked members of the other two bands, the Jazz Passengers and the Kamikaze Ground Crew, to hang around for the finale if they felt like it (and no one wanted to miss anything the Microscopic Septet was playing) so at the end, he assembled a giant “JATP-style” jam session on a blues in F he’d written, DON’T MIND IF I DO, for the three bands.
It was clear that if everyone took even twenty-four bars apiece, we would be at the Kitchen well past closing time, so the musicians quickly arranged to play solos in tandem, trade choruses or parts of choruses — a heartwarming reminder that improvisation is more than simply playing one’s instrument, and a delightful reminder of the great players of the Thirties and Forties who could create a whole short story in eight bars.
Here’s the result, first a few minutes of jovial rustling-around, which I think is priceless, then ten minutes of rocking cheerful collective improvisation:
and a lovely postscript, an appreciative review by “TG” in THE NEW YORK JAZZ RECORD:
What a gift to everyone at The Kitchen, which (with the permission of the three bands) I am now able to share with you.
This song was a hit in 1931-2. YouTube offers many amiable dance-band recordings. Here I present four, two modern and two classic.
George Probert, soprano; Chris Tyle, cornet, vocal; Mike Owen, trombone; John Royen, piano; Lars Edegran, guitar; Bernie Attridge, string bass; Hal Smith, drums. 1998. (Thanks to Chris for singing and playing from the heart. And Hal keeps everyone pointed in the right direction, heartbreak or no.)
Bobby Gordon, clarinet; Keith Ingham, celeste; Hal Smith, drums. 1996.
THE performances, when the song was new, including the verbally treacherous verse, with Bing at one of his many peaks.
Finally, Louis and the Chicago band — with that muted lead. “Bring it out, saxophones!” And the final bridge, a history of jazz in itself:
If Valentine’s Day is to you just a celebration of commodified love, it will pass. When the stores close for the night, the tired sales help is already putting 50% OFF stickers on the candy boxes, but it would be gauche to bring some chocolate to the Love Object on the 15th.
The music, however, rings on wonderfully without interruption.
If Una Mae Carlisle is known at all today, it is as a jazz footnote and “friend-of”: protege (perhaps mistress) of Fats Waller; singer on the lone and lovely record date that Lester Young’s band did in 1941; composer of WALKIN’ BY THE RIVER, someone recording with Danny Polo, John Kirby, Big Nick Nicholas, Buster Bailey, Ray Nance, Budd Johnson, Walter Thomas. Sadly, her life was very short, made even shorter by illness. I propose that she deserves admiration for her own art, not just for her associations with greater stars.
Una Mae had all the qualities that would have made her a success, and she did get some of the attention she deserved. She had a big embracing voice; she could croon and swing; she was a splendid pianist — more than a Waller clone.
Here are two samples of her genial, casual art, in 1940 and 1941. First, the song she composed (its title suggested by John Steinbeck). The wonderful small group is Benny Carter, trumpet; Everett Barksdale, guitar; Slam Stewart, string bass; Zutty Singleton, drums. Una Mae plays piano. Were Ed Berger here with us, he could tell us how Benny came to be in that studio — perhaps a rehearsal for his own Bluebird big-band date a few days later:
Here is one side from the famous session with Lester Young, Shad Collins, Clyde Hart, John Collins, Nick Fenton, Harold “Doc” West in 1941:
I come from that generation of listeners who discovered the sides with Lester through a lp compendium called SWING! — on Victor, with notes by Dan Morgenstern. I think I was not alone in listening around Una Mae, regarded at best as someone interfering with our ability to hear Lester, purring behind her. But if we could have shaken ourselves out of our Prez-worship for three minutes, we would have found much pleasure in Una Mae’s singing for its own sake, not in comparison to Billie. As I do now.
This small reconsideration of Carlisle’s talents springs from a nocturnal prowl through eBay, then on to YouTube, then Google, then here — a familiar path, although the stops are not always in that order.
First, an autographed postcard, 1940-2, when she was recording for Bluebird:
I then visited YouTube to find — to my delight — two brief but very entertaining film clips (from the 1948 BOARDING HOUSE BLUES) where her magnetism comes through:
I savor her ebullience — while trying to ignore the thinness of the song (which, in fairness, might be more sophisticated than GOT A PENNY, BENNY, which Nat Cole was singing a few years earlier) — and her expert piano work, with its small homages to Fats and Tatum.
I write the next sentence with mixed emotions: it cannot have hurt her fame in this period that she was slender and light-skinned. Had she lived, she might have achieved some of the acclaim given other singer-entertainers, although I wonder if her easy accessibility would have hampered her with the jazz purists of the Fifties, while making her a pop star of sorts. Certainly her last recordings (1950) show her being targeted for a large popular audience, which is to say the songs are awful and beyond.
The other song from BOARDING HOUSE BLUES is equally thin, built on RHYTHM changes — but it is not the THROW IT OUT YOUR MIND that Louis and the All-Stars performed in WHEN THE BOYS MEET THE GIRLS (1965):
Looking for more information on Una Mae, I found that others had — admiringly and sadly — done deep research here and elsewhere. Because the internet encourages such digressions, I now know more about mastoiditis than I would have otherwise. It shortened her life. The disease is now rare.
I present all this as a collage in tribute to someone who should not be forgotten. And I think of Una Mae as one of the talented people who died just short of great fame. I can imagine her, as I can imagine Hot Lips Page, on the television variety shows of my childhood, appearing in the nightclubs I was too young to go to.
Although the lyrics are those of a formulaic love song, the mood is apt for her epitaph. May she live on in our hearts:
Those generous authentic swinging gents — David Horniblow, reeds; Andrew Oliver, piano — are back to give us some more Morton, in what they have (generously and reliably) created, the Complete Morton Project, a weekly series of gifts — Mister Morton’s compositions played imaginatively, with emotion. And here is this week’s delightful offering: BIG FAT HAM and DEEP CREEK.
The eponymous HAM — named in honor or in satire? Perhaps a dream of dinner:
and, with David on alto, the yearning blues DEEP CREEK:
You can keep up with David and Andrew here (their YouTube channel) or here(Andrew’s blog — which has his performance schedule as well). Or, I’ve chronicled their four earlier offerings on JAZZ LIVES here. Andrew and David also have lives away from the video camera: you can find out with a minimum of effort where they will be playing, in duet or as members of a goodly number of bands.
I hope there are many people applauding their expertise and generosities. How fresh and lively Morton’s music sounds — not a hint of the dusty archives — reminding me once again how dashing it must have been in its time, and, now, when played by Oliver-Horniblow, how much dazzle it has.
Thisis the first part of a sextet of delicious performances by Michael Kanan, piano; Greg Ruggiero, guitar; Neal Miner, string bass, recorded on January 8, 2018, at the Drawing Room in Brooklyn.
Neal Miner
In that first segment of this impromptu session, these three lyrical friends performed YOU DO SOMETHING TO ME, TAKE THE “A” TRAIN (which is how one gets to Jay Street-MetroTech, among other possibilities), and I’M JUST A LUCKY SO-AND-SO. Now, for the patient faithful, this intuitive, subtle trio plays Neal Miner’s BLUES OKURA, IT’S ONLY A PAPER MOON, and LULLABY OF THE LEAVES.
Greg Ruggiero
Neal’s BLUES OKURA. Make sure your seat belt is low and tight across your hips:
And an exceedingly tender IT’S ONLY A PAPER MOON, honoring Arlen’s intent — and I hear Harburg’s lyrics all the way through:
then the classic LULLABY OF THE LEAVES:
Wonderful reassuring music to be sure. Thank you so much, gentlemen, for this casual affecting interlude.
If you consider an artist’s works in chronological sequence (bibliography as well as discography) certain landmarks blot out their neighbors. In the case of Coleman Hawkins, there’s BODY AND SOUL, then the Hampton Victor date, then his big band — leading up to the small-group sessions of 1943-44 for Signature, Keynote, Savoy, and more.
The Varsity Seven sides — full of delights — recorded in December 1939 and January 1940 — haven’t received the admiration they deserve. Hawkins’ admiring biographer, the diligent John Chilton, calls them “a pastiche of Dixieland.” I disagree.
The Varsity label (please note the transparent pseudonyms for Hawkins and Carter) was run by Eli Oberstein, and it never seems to have been entirely out in the open. I don’t know that Oberstein was the equal of Herman Lubinsky of Savoy, but Eli seems to have been ingenious in his dealings. I believe the masters of these and other sessions were bought by Savoy, and thus the trail to licit reissues is complex. Were they Victor sessions, they would have been available straightforwardly for decades now, including “official” CD issue.
Another side-note is that the session — one or both? — was co-produced by Leonard Feather and Warren Scholl, which may account for a Feather composition being there. I knew two sides from this date because my Long Island friend Tom Piazza played them for me, forty-plus years ago: SHAKE IT AND BREAK IT and A PRETTY GIRL IS LIKE A MELODY. I don’t know where each of the musicians was working in 1939-40, whether Fifty-Second Street or Cafe Society or uptown, but they come together to create great jazz. Cheerful Jeanne Burns (known for work with Adrian Rollini and Wingy Manone) is a liability, but we’ve all heard less polished singers. Here’s the information for the first session.
Benny Carter, trumpet, alto saxophone; Danny Polo, clarinet; Coleman Hawkins, tenor saxophone; Joe Sullivan, piano; Ulysses Livingston, guitar, vocal; Artie Bernstein, string bass; George Wettling, drums; Jeanne Burns, vocal. New York, December 14, 1939.
IT’S TIGHT LIKE THAT (Burns, vocal). The first two choruses — bless Sullivan and Wettling, who are bringing Jimmy Ryan’s to a record date or doing the Commodore? — are flawless. Ms. Burns has pitch trouble, but I concentrate on Sullivan behind her. Polo and Livingston (the latter sounding much like a sweet Teddy Bunn) aren’t derailed by the young lady, and then Hawkins charges in, “I’m back from Europe, and let me remind you who is still King!” My idea of perfection is of course subjective, but the instrumental portions of this recording stand up with any other of this period:
EASY RIDER (Burns, Livingston, vocal). Hawkins starts off rhapsodically, and is then relieved by Polo, whose sound in itself is an aural landscape, no matter how simple his phrases. (In this, he reminds me of poets Joe Marsala, Raymond Burke, and Edmond Hall.) Ms. Burns Is much more at ease at this tempo and in this range, and her unusual mixture of Mae West and Mildred Bailey is her most successful vocal. Livingston’s vaudeville couplets are harmlessly archaic counterpoint, leading in to an ensemble where Carter and Polo take up most of the space, leaving Hawkins little to do. One must admire the lovely drumming of Wettling — and how beautifully Artie Shapiro’s bass comes through — before the consciously “old-timey” ending:
SCRATCH MY BACK is the one Leonard Feather composition, and a charming one, revisited by Dan Barrett a few years ago. I can’t figure out the changes beneath the melody — an experienced friend / musician says the first strain is similar to YOU TOOK ADVANTAGE OF ME. I love the opening ensemble, and Shapiro’s deep notes behind Polo, then Sullivan’s rollicking solo chorus, where Wettling is having a wonderful time — and the passage where Sullivan abstracts the melody for great dramatic effect. Then — what’s this? — a glorious alto solo by “Billy Carton” (heir to the cardboard box fortune) punctuated by a Livingston blues-pastoral. Everyone steps aside for Hawkins, and a recap of the theme with Livingston adding sweet arpeggiated chords. No complaints here:
SAVE IT PRETTY MAMA (Burns, vocal). Aside from the ending, I don’t think of this as “Dixieland”: rather a series of splendid improvisations from Carter, Sullivan, and two choruses from Hawkins — over a gently propulsive and balanced rhythm section. I find Burns’ version of Mildred Bailey’s upper-register-vibrato jarring, but I was listening to Polo, murmuring sweet limpid asides, and the rhythm section while she sang:
Fast forward to January 15, 1940: the same personnel except Big Joe Turner replaces Burns, an improvement.
And in his honor, they began with HOW LONG, HOW LONG BLUES. In the opening ensemble, Hawkins is nearly submerged (could this have been what irritated Chilton?) which leads into a lovely chorus by Polo — with plain-spoken rhythm section work. Then, Big Joe, in glowing voice, supported by a very powerful Sullivan, with lovely ensemble encouragements. It almost seems as if Hawkins has been waiting his chance, and he takes it eloquently, before Big Joe and the band return. At 2:23, apparently Turner has momentarily forgotten the lyric couplet or has gotten distracted. A fine improvised ensemble closes off the record, with a Wettling accent. This side seems slightly under-rehearsed, but the looseness adds to its charm:
SHAKE IT AND BREAK IT has always been a favorite, and this vocal version is a prize. If there’s a sound more engaging than this rhythm section following Sullivan, I have yet to hear it. Big Joe sounds positively exuberant (in touch with the lyrics); Polo and Livingston keep the forward motion going , and everyone is even more gleeful for Joe’s second chorus (“rub it all over the wall”) before particularly hot choruses by Carter and Hawkins follow, leading to jamming (with Wettling happily prominent) to end the record. If this is “Dixieland,” I want many more sides:
A PRETTY GIRL IS LIKE A MELODY was not a song much utilized for jam session recordings, but to have it here is a pleasure. I wonder if Oberstein said, “No more blues, fellows! Let’s have a hot one!” as Big Joe left the studio. Or it just seemed like a melodic yet under-played Berlin song, taken a little quicker than I imagine it was done in the Ziegfeld Follies. A very simple — even cliched — vamp led by Livingston starts things off before Polo takes the lead — which surprisingly turns into an ensemble passage, then a wonderfully quirky Sullivan solo AND Hawkins leaping into his chorus with the zeal of a great athlete (powerful playing from Shapiro, Livingston, and Wettling) — then a magnificent Carter solo and a romping ensemble close. This is one of the most successful sides of the eight:
And, finally, POM POM, a Carter original which might be a phrase from one of his solos scored for small band, with a particularly light scoring: I would have thought the opening 16 was scored for alto, clarinet, and tenor, but for the speed with which Carter plays trumpet on the bridge. Polo’s chorus is so tenderly levitating that if you, hearing his work on this session, don’t want to hear more, then I have failed. Hawkins is energized in his two-chorus solo, reminding me of the trio records he made in 1937, especially in his powerful second chorus — but Carter is as elegant a mountain-climber as I can imagine (with a distinct similarity to Joe Thomas or Bill Coleman of this period); another piece of swing lace-weaving from Livingston, and the record gracefully winds down — simultaneously hot and gentle. Is that a recording engineer’s “fade” or simply everyone getting softer? I don’t know, but it’s very sweet:
These aren’t flawless records. Some of them might have benefited from a second take. But they are uplifting examples of the stars willing to come in and play two dates for what I imagine was scale. All in a day’s work — and how glorious the results are.
Marty Grosz and Bob Haggart, date and location not known
When you’ve shot as many videos as I have — over a decade’s worth — there’s a sizable treasure chest of the unseen. Sometimes videos are buried for good reason, the primary one being musicians’ unhappiness with the results. And since we aim to please, I don’t post what offends the creators.
But a few weeks ago, during an atypical tussle with insomnia, I was sitting at my computer at 3:30 AM, looking at unlisted videos stored safely on YouTube, and I found this rousing delight. The musicians who like to approve of my postings have approved, so I can share it with you. It’s a hot half-hour with Marty Grosz and his Cellar Boys, from Jazz at Chautauqua, probably a Sunday morning, the exact date noted above.
That’s Marty on guitar, vocal, commentary (yes, he does like to expound, but commenters who complain will be teleported to another blog); Andy Schumm, cornet and miscellaneous instrument; Scott Robinson, reeds and inventiveness; John Sheridan, piano; Kerry Lewis, string bass; Pete Siers, drums.
The real breadstick, as Marty would say.
Sucrose, no corn syrup:
Don’t tell me different — I know I’m right! Watch Andy and Scott do magic:
And a series of wonderful hot surprises:
Once, when I was in Dublin, I found the Oxfam charity shop (as they would call it) and sniffed out the small shelf of recordings. Very little of interest, but there was one jazz lp — autographed by the band, and the band had Keith Ingham in it. I clutched it to my chest, fearful that someone would steal it away, and when I approached the cash register, the gracious woman volunteer looked at me, smiled, and said, “Well, YOU’VE found a treasure, haven’t you?”
That’s how I feel about these videos. Blessings on the musicians and of course on Nancy Hancock Griffith, who made it all possible.
THIS AUCTION IS FOR a NICE ORIGINAL SIGNED BLACK and WHITE 8 X 10 PHOTO of LEGENDARY JAZZ SINGER BILLIE HOLIDAY ..IT EMANATES FROM 1945…THE PHOTO ITSELF IS IN REMARKABLE SHAPE WITH MOST OF ORIGINAL GLOSS STILL PRESENT anD MINOR SURFACE CREASES….THE RED SPOT LOOKS LIKE A LIPSTICK SMUDGE (maybe BILLIE’S? LOL) AND IS UNDER THE AUTOGRAPH….QUITE A STORY…..MY MOM and DAD WERE MARRIED IN NOVEMBER of 1945 shortly after my DAD RETURNED FROM WORLD WAR II………THEY WENT TO NYC FOR THEIR HONEYMOON AND WENT NIGHTCLUBBING ONE NIGHT TO GO SEE BILLIE HOLIDAY.(I BELIEVE AT EITHER THE LATIN QUARTER or LA CONGA)….SHE ACTUALLY SAT WITH THEM FOR A WHILE and SIGNED THIS 8 X 10 FOR THEM…THE AUTOGRAPH is IN BLACK PEN of that ERA and ADDRESSED TO MY MOM and DAD……SHE DIED IN 1959 at 44 AFTER A LIFE FILLED WITH DRUGS and TROUBLE……WON 4 GRAMMY AWARDS and was ONE OF THE MOST POPULAR SINGERS of the 1940’S…..FOUND IT IN A BOX AFTER MANY YEARS…..GUARANTEED TO PASS ANY CERTIFICATION TEST including PSA/DNA……SEE SCANS………… SHIPPING AND HANDLING IS $3.25 …..WE DO DISCOUNT ON MULTIPLE WINNING AUCTIONS……….BUY FROM A VETERAN E-BAYER SINCE 1999……………OVER 17,500 POSITIVE FEED-BACKS. INCLUDES:……………
Drum roll, please?
One view:
And a closeup:For those of us who know Billie’s handwriting, both swooping and angular, we know this is the real thing, even though her signature differs from the inscription, which is easy to explain: I assume that Billie signed a dozen with only her name, and added a personal inscription when the circumstances were right.
The eBay link is here. The minimum bid was $9.99 and it is now $405, with six days to go. I’m just happy to see this photograph and know that it exists. I don’t need to spend a good deal of money for a piece of paper that Billie Holiday may have touched with her lips, but other romantics in the audience may feel differently.
Music to bid by, or music for its own sake, from 1938:
JAZZ LIVES 