LONESOME ME is one of Fats Waller’s most lovely — and least-played — songs. Marty Grosz has made several versions, but here’s a particularly splendid performance by the Holland-Coots Jazz Quintet (Danny Coots, drums; Brian Holland, piano; Steve Pikal, string bass; Marc Caparone, cornet; Jacob Zimmerman, clarinet and alto saxophone) at the 2019 Jazz Bash by the Bay in Monterey, California. And catch the beautiful duet between Steve and Jacob once the melody’s been stated.
I didn’t feel lonesome this morning, but had I, this lyrical outpouring would have made me feel better about being in a world where such beauty was not only possible, but accessible.
One way to access it, is, of course, the CD referred to above:
And you can see the HCJQ in person, with “your very own two looking eyes.” I’ll have the privilege on the Stomptime cruise at the end of April, and at the Evergreen Jazz Festival in July . . . but you should join me. Video-life can only take you so far.
This song made a deep impact on me decades before I might have encountered the emotional situation it describes. Perhaps it’s something about the intense but elliptical declaration of love: I am so deeply entranced by you that IF you decided to behave in opposition to those feelings I wouldn’t be able to “take it.” “Baby.” By the way, singers could have a whole course of study focused on the ways each singer pronounces and phrases that meaningful word.
Here I present Thirties versions of this song (our friends Banu Gibson, Hanna Richardson, and Becky Kilgore have done more recent versions, as did Maxine Sullivan in Sweden, but that’s another blogpost; I’ve also skirted versions by Eddy Duchin, Frances Wayne, and a particularly raucous reading by Lionel Hampton from 1937).
I think you will hear why the song struck home, as well as understand my admiration for the singers and their particular approach to the material. (And imagine a time when the jukebox would play new recordings by Jack Teagarden and Ethel Waters. I know that had I been there, I would not be writing this blog, but still . . . . ) I also suspect that the connection between the Teagarden, Waters, Bullock recordings is the wonderfully omnipresent Victor Young, and that all the recordings use an arrangement by Arthur Schutt.
First, an unexpected pleasure — the Leo Reisman recording from December 28, 1933, with Thelma Nevins singing. Years ago I would have scorned this as “just a dance-band record,” but it’s so pretty, and Miss Nevins does the song beautifully. Google turns up no photographs of her, but she’s mentioned in an April 1939 Variety as a “svelte looker” and in a 1947 Billboard as singing at the Chateau in New York City, so she didn’t disappear, thankfully:
Now, the first of two 1933 versions for which I can offer personnel: Frank Guarente, Sterling Bose, trumpet; Jack Teagarden, trombone, vocal; Chester Hazlett, Jimmy Dorsey, clarinet, alto saxophone; Mutt Hayes, clarinet, tenor saxophone; Walter Edelstein, violin; Joe Meresco, piano; Perry Botkin, guitar; Artie Bernstein, string bass; Larry Gomar, drums; Victor Young, director. New York, November 11, 1933. Jack only sings; before this, on the session, he recorded two takes of A HUNDRED YEARS FROM TODAY:
Jack takes it fairly briskly — one would think “matter-of-factly,” but listen to his variations on “Baby.”
Here’s Ethel Waters, accompanied by Benny Goodman and his Orchestra: Ethel Waters; Charlie Teagarden, Shirley Clay, trumpet; Jack Teagarden; Benny Goodman; Art Karle, tenor saxophone; Joe Sullivan, piano; Dick McDonough, guitar; Artie Bernstein, string bass; Gene Krupa, drums. (Two takes were issued; only one shows up on YouTube.) New York, November 27, 1933 (the session at which Billie Holiday recorded her first side — YOUR MOTHER’S SON-IN-LAW, also written by Nichols and Hollner — with the same band. Ethel went first, as befitting a Star, with two takes of HUNDRED and of BABY. And please notice that although Victor Young saw Jack as vocalist only on his own date, he is memorable, as is Benny, in duet with Ethel as if two voices.)
Her reading, and I mean this as a compliment, is dramatic — a three-minute stage play, with deep feeling throughout. Her enunciation, her phrasing, her wit and sorrow, are all unforgettable. I know there was a massive and unsparing biography a few years ago, but where is the Ethel Waters celebration? She was extraordinary:
Here are a few happy meanderings on the theme, first, a quick instrumental version from the “Bill Dodge” transcription session (circa February 10-28, 1934) featuring Benny Goodman and a nearly savage Bunny Berigan out front. The collective personnel according to Tom Lord is Berigan, Manny Klein, Shirley Clay, trumpet; Joe Harris, Jack Jenney, or Larry Alpeter, trombone; Benny Goodman, clarinet; Hank Ross, Arthur Rollini, tenor saxophone; Arthur Schutt, piano; Dick McDonough, guitar; Artie Bernstein, string bass; Gene Krupa, Sammy Weiss, or Stan King, drums: :
Finally, Chick Bullock and his Levee Loungers from December 12, 1933. He’s accompanied by Guarente, Tommy and Jimmy Dorsey, Hazlett, Hayes, Edelstein, Moresco, Botkin, Bernstein, and Gomar. I like Chick’s singing a great deal but no singer should have to follow Ethel:
In researching this post, I found a scholarly essay (scholarly in its digging, not in its stuffiness) about Alberta Nichols and Mann Hollner, who were married. The writer, Molly Ruggles, is much more fascinated by UNTIL THE REAL THING COMES ALONG than this song, but the pieceis well worth reading.
I JUST COULDN’T TAKE IT BABY is the real thing for those who feel.
I find “novelties” charming: their goofy allure harks back to my childhood. This one has stuck since I saw Danny Kaye perform it in THE FIVE PENNIES.
We can (in the best Amazon way) peek inside:
In 1935, it was a phenomenal hit for this band, and one of them, probably Mike Reilly, had an ancient brass instrument, very complicated, that he used in the nightclub presentation:
But this post isn’t a nostalgic ramble down “Swing Street” (New York’s Fifty-Second Street between Sixth and Seventh Avenues, its raucous charm obliterated for decades) — it’s about living hot music, with a touch of comedy, performed right now, at the Fresno “Sounds of Mardi Gras,” by a lively hot band. They’re Dave Stuckey and the Hot House Gang, for this occasion, Dave on guitar, vocal, and amusement; Marc Caparone, cornet, verbal japes; Nate Ketner, reeds; David Aus, piano; Sam Rocha, string bass; Gareth Price, drums, with guest star Riley Baker, trombone — he only gets a few bars on this number, but he makes the most of them.
If you don’t understand the circular course that hot music takes, watch the video again. Share with your friends who need to be enlightened. It will turn up on the final exam in your Doctorate in Hot. Until then . . .
Four more souvenirs of a wonderful musical evening at the 75 Clubon 75 Murray Street, New York City. The first two selections feature Gabriele Donati, string bass; Michael Kanan, piano; Doron Tirosh, drums; on the closing two, Fukushi Tainaka sits in on drums. All of this goodness took place on March 14, 2019.
THREE LITTLE WORDS (the song tells us that this triplet is “I love you,” although jesters have invented alternatives):
GONE WITH THE WIND (which the informed among us know was written two years before the film):
I’M OLD FASHIONED (with the verse!):
and, to close, THE THEME:
Two postscripts. Here and here are other musical treasures from Gabriele, Michael, and Doron, recorded on the 14th. And on the 23rd, I had the immense good fortune of seeing and recording Ted Brown (at 91), Tardo Hammer, Paul Gill, and Jeff Brown at the same welcoming spot. Unless I am very wrong, there will be video evidence of that rewarding evening as well. But don’t wait for me — if you can, visit the 75 Club promptly. You will feel the same good vibrations I did and do.
This photograph was on sale a day ago — its price varied from $809 to — but it may have been sold. Here’s what the seller said:
Louis Armstrong & Sidney Catlett “Big Sid” Signed 8 x 10 Photo RCA Building
This Autographed Signed Press Photo is and Estate Find.
This Press Photo has printing that reads,
SIDNEY CATLETT — LOUIS ARMSTRONG’S Sensational Drummer Getting off a Few Hot Licks with “SATCHMO” Himself
Direction JOE GLASER R C A Building 30 Rockefeller Plaza New York N.Y.
It is signed, (in green ink)
To My ‘Pluto Pal” To Lou Gottlieb Louis Armstrong
In blue, possibly black ink, it is also signed,
My boy, Who is this guy, Milton Berle. Big Sid
and this is the rear. I don’t know if this date refers to when the photo was acquired or when it was signed, and perhaps the two signatures were done at different times.
The seller adds:
I, personally, found it in my mother’s garage. She lived in El Cerrito, California.
For reference LOU GOTTLIEB, was a member of the music trio, The Limeliters, lived in El Cerrito, and was a Huge Fan of Louis Armstrong which is why he had the signed photo. My mother received a folder of some of Gottlieb’s papers in which this photo was included.
“Pluto Pal” does not refer to the Disney character or to astronomy, but rather to Louis’ pharmaceutical pleasure in “Pluto Water.” You could look it up. Perhaps Lou Gottlieb had learned the secret to health from Louis. What the Milton Berle connection is might remain a mystery.
And here’s another treasure:
I no longer have the details on the second page — clearly from an autograph book — but the seller wrote that it was from 1949 in New York City, when Arvell and Sidney were a propulsive team in Louis’ All-Stars.
And one of the finest jazz recordings ever: STEAK FACE (dedicated to Louis’ Boston Terrier, “General,” but also a medium blues to show off Sidney amidst Louis, Jack Teagarden, Barney Bigard, Dick Cary, and Arvell Shaw) from the 1947 concert at Symphony Hall:
I’ve known and admired the saxophonist-composer Lena Bloch for almost a decade now, and respect her musical integrity.
I’ve been very selective about using JAZZ LIVES as a platform to advertise Kickstarter projects, but Lena’s new CD — as of yet unrecorded — with her FEATHERY quartet, Cameron Brown, Billy Mintz, and Russ Lossing, is eminently worthy of your consideration.
FEATHERY, from left, Cameron Brown, Lena Bloch, Russ Lossing, and Billy Mintz
FEATHERY is planning a new CD, which will be called ROSE OF LIFTA. Here’s what Lena has to say about the project:
The idea of this project came to my mind when I was reading the poem by Iman Annab “Climbing Rose Of Lifta,” about the pain of separation from one’s homeland, intense yearning and strong hope of return. Deeply moved by this poem, I wrote a piece “Rose Of Lifta” and later on several other compositions, dedicated to those who had to leave their homes and loved ones, becoming refugees and expatriates. My ensemble colleagues understood me emotionally and musically, and we added several more pieces written by Russ Lossing. It will be an album of a string of compositions, different in mood and color, but unified by a continuous narrative of longing for home. Our approach, the ways to interpret the compositions developed organically during our performances, and after one year of working on the material, we now ready to record it and simply can’t wait! Our recording will again be done in one room, without headphones or booths, The sound engineer that has been working with us is Paul Wickliffe (Skyline Productions), whose work Dan Morgenstern describes as the following: “There is a fifth member of this group, Paul Wickliffe, who recorded, mixed and mastered the music–and the term “mastered” has seldom been more appropriate. The special sound of this group has been perfectly captured, each voice crystal clear, yet reflecting the music’s collective essence.” We are very thrilled to be working with Paul again, he is a wizard who can create the most intimate listening experience.
As JAZZ LIVES readers know, producing a CD is costly. There are almost no record companies in existence that can bankroll musicians, so most if not all musicians are forced to do it themselves. So this project has spawned a Kickstarter page— FEATHERY needs to raise $8000 in the next three weeks, more or less, to create this CD. I’ve contributed, by the way. And I hope you will look into this worthy endeavor.
Update: I am reposting this because yesterday, April 15, 2020, Lee Konitz moved into spirit at the clock-age of 92, from pneumonia resulting from COVID-19. There are already many tributes, but I thought it wisest to remind people of Dan’s.
More affectionate sharply focused tales from my favorite Jazz Eminence, Mister Morgenstern — recorded at his Upper West Side apartment last summer.
Here’s the first part of Dan’s recollections of Sonny Stitt, which include an ashtray and a bottle of vodka, not at the same time or place:
More about Sonny and the wonderful trumpeter / arranger Willie Cook:
In these interviews, I’ve concentrated primarily on the figures who have moved on to other neighborhoods, but Dan and I both wanted to shine a light on the remarkable Lee Konitz:
More to come, including Dan’s recollections of a trio of wondrous pianists, Martial Solal, Eddie Costa, and Willie “the Lion” Smith. And Dan and I had another very rewarding session three days ago . . . with more to come this spring.
They continue to swing, which is very reassuring. And here is a combination platter of lovely music from the Fresno “Sounds of Mardi Gras” jazz festival, recorded on February 8, 2019. The generous creators are Bob Schulz, cornet, vocal; Kim Cusack, clarinet; Doug Finke, trombone; Ray Skjelbred, piano; Scott Anthony, banjo, vocal; Jim Maihack, tuba; Ray Templin, drums, vocal.
From that same rewarding weekend, here’s Part Oneand Twoby the Frisco Jazz Band, whose secret is a lovely cohesive swing, no matter what the tempo.
But wait! There’s more!
NEW ORLEANS SHUFFLE:
Walter Donaldson’s pretty MY BUDDY, sung by Scott:
The Horace Gerlach standard, SWING THAT MUSIC:
A blue suit and wedding bells for EMALINE:
For Irving Berlin and Bunny Berigan, MARIE:
For George and Gracie, also James P. and Max, LOVE NEST, sung by Ray:
The Hot Five’s ONCE IN A WHILE:
(WHEN IT’S) DARKNESS ON THE DELTA, sung by Scott:
And a closing statement of willingness-to-please, sung by Bob, I WOULD DO ANYTHING FOR YOU:
And they do.
I don’t think the other gentlemen of the ensemble will mind my suggestion that once the intent listeners have savored these videos, that they go back and listen closely to the impish and passionate Ray Skjelbred, whose sly adept subversions in solo and accompaniment are beyond remarkable. I seated myself where I did to video so that I could hear and see him with greater clarity, and his singular playing is singularly rewarding.
This set is in honor of my friend Judy Smith, who didn’t make it to the festival, but enjoys the musical bounces with great enthusiasm.
Back by popular demand (the first beautiful performance by Gabriele Donati, string bass; Michael Kanan, piano; Doron Tirosh, drums — at the 75 Club, located at 75 Murray Street — here). Three masters of the music at a most convivial place.
Bobby Troup’s blues in C, which I knew from a Frankie Laine record, BABY, BABY, ALL THE TIME:
a little Monk, LET’S COOL ONE:
and the beautiful Rodgers and Hart classic, HAVE YOU MET MISS JONES?:
I hope you’ve met Messrs. Donati, Kanan, and Tirosh, as well as making the acquaintance of the lovely 75 Club.
Here are some wonderful highlights from my first concert of 2019, a showcase for several bands under the brightly colored banner of Noble + Wylie, a musician-run enterprise that fills a real need, representing splendid traditional jazz performers, offering the best services to the artists and their audiences. The co-founders are musicians Emily Asher and Katie Lee, who know the business from many angles. You can read more about this promising company at the link above, but a few sentences from Emily give a taste of their forthright approach: “I see Noble + Wylie as an agency which elevates and celebrates excellence. By focusing on honesty and quality over chaos and hype, I look forward to fostering long-term positive relationships with diverse music venues, festivals, schools, and private clients in order to provide distinctive and creative music to audiences world-wide.”
(If you search for Noble & Wylie — connected by an ampersand — you’ll find only UK shoes, no music at all. Caveat emptor.)
At the January 9 showcase, we had the opportunity to hear three groups represented by Noble + Wylie: The Ladybugs, the New Wonders, and Emily Asher’s Garden Party — and I brought back some tasty video evidence. Here is the first set by the New Wonders, the remarkable band making the hot and sweet music of the Twenties alive again. For this occasion, they are Mike Davis, cornet; Josh Holcomb, trombone; Ricky Alexander, reeds; Dalton Ridenhour, piano; Peter Cho, banjo; Jay Rattman, bass sax; Jay Lepley, with incidental singing by members of the band. My videos came from an odd angle, but I hope all can be forgiven.
The New Wonders, photograph by Renée Toplansky.
Mike’s introductions are delightful history lessons in themselves, so you need no more from me.
RHYTHM KING, for Bix:
I’M MORE THAN SATISFIED, for the Chicago Loopers:
OSTRICH WALK, for Bix and Tram:
CLORINDA, for the Loopers:
This one’s a particular favorite of mine, Eubie Blake and Noble Sissle’s sweet ballad, LOVE WILL FIND A WAY, in the style of Bix and his Gang:
Finally, a romping CLARINET MARMALADE — hot and spreadable:
Once again, you can learn more about Noble + Wylie here. (The name that Asher and Lee have chosen for their enterprise is a fascinating story in itself.) And their Facebook page is here.
Although this hasn’t been the most severe winter in New York, I’ve been in semi-hibernation for a few months, so it was delightful to get back to hearing live jazz in Manhattan, and to remember why I live about fifty minutes away.
My recent visit — Thursday, March 14 — toClub 75(or “The 75 Club” for the more formal among us) — was such a pleasure that I have already started to plan future visits. (In the picture below, you can see or sense Richard Wyands, Lisle Atkinson, and Leroy Williams, so you know that this is not Amateur Night somewhere.)
It’s just exquisite. A spacious, beautifully appointed room in a venerable mansion: great sight lines, lovely service (hello, Constantine!), nifty snacks and drinks, and wonderful music.
Last Thursday, I saw Gabriele Donati, Michael Kanan, Doron Tirosh, and Fukushi Tanaka, and I am returning on the 23rd to admire Ted Brown, Tardo Hammer, Paul Gill, and Jeff Brown. And because I am an aging suburbanite, the thrill of having the A, C, E, 1, 2, and 3 a block away AND a huge parking garage across the street is considerable. No cover, although I think making reservations is always a good idea. More information at their website (above) or their Facebookpage.
What could be better than a welcoming jazz club? (And I mean “welcoming” very seriously.) Hearing beautiful music there.
I have a new hero: the soft-spoken, modest (in temperament, not talent) string bassist Gabriele Donati. I’d seen his name in the best company — Greg Ruggiero, Harry Allen, and others — but never heard him in person. That omission I remedied last Thursday. He’s an acoustic player with a fine centered tone and lovely intonation — he hits the center of the note. His time is lovely; he isn’t too modern to walk the bass, and he quietly, consistently swings. When you don’t hear him, you feel him.
It’s appropriate that our first conversation had Milt Hinton at the center, and he planned to play one of Milt’s tunes, dedicated to Mona Hinton, who might have spent a few hours at home by herself. This performance sums up what I admire about Gabriele: his subtle melodic expertise, always at the service of the music. His empathic musical partners, Michael and Doron, have been hero-friends of mine for some time as well.
Make room for beauty is what I say.
People of a certain generation might recognize my title as Seussian:
“And that is a story that no one can beat, When I say that I saw it on Mulberry Street.”
For me, my pilgrimage to Club 75, the first of many, is a story that no one can beat. Thanks to George Aprile for his kindnesses, and to Gabriele, Michael, Doron for the beauty they create. And to Milt and Mona Hinton.
Seat belts fastened, seat backs upright, tray tables in the upright position?
As the ebullient guitarist / singer / bandleader Dave Stuckey says, “Come on, cats!”
Here are three Stuckey-beauties from the Fresno “Sounds of Mardi Gras,” last month, in which our heroes teach the Gentle Art of Swing and the Arcane Secrets of Riffing. (See: “Arrangement, head” in the index.)
The rollicking heroes are Dave Stuckey, guitar, vocal, imagination; Marc Caparone, cornet; Nate Ketner, reeds, David Aus, piano; Sam Rocha, string bass; Gareth Price, drums. Special plaudits go to Youngbloods Rocha and Price, who make seismic upheaval fun.
Ralph Waldo Emerson would have admired Ray Skjelbred, who trusts himself, listens to his own heart, knows the sources and honors them but goes his own beautiful zigzag ways. Soulful, whimsical, making the piano sing songs it didn’t know it could sing.
Here are four solo transformations created by Ray at the 2016 San Diego Jazz Fest. How lovely and how surprising they — and he — are!
K.M.H. DRAG, in honor of Max Kaminsky, Freddie Moore, and Art Hodes:
You may call it MUSKRAT RAMBLE or SAVOYAGER’S STOMP. Either will receive full credit:
Ellington’s 1933 BUNDLE OF BLUES (“from the motion picture of the same name”) — melodic and quixotic both:
I don’t think that there’s an alternate title for STRUTTIN’ WITH SOME BARBECUE, but please notice the cheerful subversions Ray works on it from the inside . . . laproscopically, perhaps?
When Ray sits down to the piano, beautiful memorable surprises spring up.
Great artists know that passion without control is nothing. Together, they scrape the clouds.
Here are Marc Caparone, cornet; Jacob Zimmerman, clarinet and alto; Brian Holland, piano; Steve Pikal, string bass; Danny Coots, drums, the Holland-Coots Jazz Quintet, recorded live at the Jazz Bash by the Bay on March 2, 2019, playing Hoagy Carmichael’s STAR DUST:
Hearing that performance, one can talk or think of Bunny Berigan, Louis Armstrong, Artie Shaw, and many others. But for once, let us celebrate Caparone, Zimmerman, Pikal, Holland, Coots: people who understand how difficult it is to create Beauty and then do it, in front of our eyes, time after time. Those moments when the dancer and the dance are one: so rare, so compelling.
They’re back! And below I’ll have news of their appearance at a one-day Midwest festival on March 30, 2019.
The Chicago Cellar Boys made beautiful music at the 2018 San Diego Jazz Fest, and I caught as much of it as I could. (Type in CELLAR on the search bar and see for yourself.)
Here is part of a set that I recorded on November 24. The CCB are Andy Schumm, cornet, tenor saxophone, clarinet; John Otto, alto saxophone, clarinet; Paul Asaro, piano, vocal; Johnny Donatowicz, guitar, banjo; Dave Bock, tuba. Dee-lightful.
INDIAN CRADLE SONG (in honor of the Dorsey Brothers and, faintly, Louis Armstrong). Andy told me that he had hidden another song in the “chorale” section, but he’s too smart for me. Maybe you’ll recognize it?:
BOSTON SKUFFLE (something for and by Jabbo Smith):
HOME, CRADLE OF HAPPINESS (a song popular in the early Twenties, recorded by a Sam Lanin group and by Ethel Waters):
FIDGETY FEET (a tribute to Bix and the Wolverines):
KING PORTER STOMP (the CCB’s homage to the 1924 Autograph duet session by King Oliver and Jelly Roll Morton — also the band-within-the-band):
Aside from their inspiring playing and singing, hot and sweet, there are the marvelous arrangements that make this two-horn quintet sound like a large group, and the positively exciting repertoire. I know the music of this period fairly well, but I always go away from even one CCB set saying to myself, “I’ve never heard that wonderful tune before.”
And here — because listeners need to get away from their computers now and again (it’s good for us!) — is the festival they will be illuminating at the end of this month, along with Petra’s Recession Seven (featuring Petra van Nuis, Andy Brown, Russ Phillips, and other luminaries):
James Dapogny died yesterday. He was 78 and had been keeping cancer at bay for nine years until he could do it no longer.
Because the absence of people I love is deeply painful, I have embraced the notion that the dead don’t go away, that their temporal selves leave us but they merely move into other neighborhoods. With Jim’s death, I cannot keep that illusion afloat. There is a void much larger than his human form that will never be filled. No parade of clicked-on Facebook sad emojis can express this. And this sorrow isn’t unique to me: ask anyone who knew him, who learned from him, who savored his creativity and his company.
Prof. and still-active cellist Mike Karoub to Prof’s left. Photograph by Laura Beth Wyman, 2014.
An expansive, restlessly diligent and curious person, he had several names. When I first met him (at Jazz at Chautauqua, 2004) I timidly called him “Mr. Dapogny,” and because I was shy, my voice was low and he referred to me — just once — as “soft-voiced Professor Steinman” while we were both leafing through Thirties sheet music. Later, I bought all his records and CDs, where he was “James,” but I summoned up the courage to call him “Jim” to his face and — referring to him in the third person, I took on the affectionate coinage that Laura Beth Wyman, whom he called “my best student in thirty years,” and his dear friend, had created: “Prof.”
I will hand off to Prof.’s friend Kim Cusack for his memories:
Jim was puckish, never morose, so my first musical example is a jam-session rouser. Keep your ears on the pianist, who explodes into a solo at 4:14:
Although he was characterized as a stride pianist and he loved the music of Fats Waller and Alex Hill, he dismissed that categorization, and told me that his mentors were Stacy, Sullivan, and Morton. In the fashion of those three great individualists, his playing was full of spiky surprises — arresting commentaries that could woo and distract in the ensemble or when he accompanied a soloist. I think he found stride conventions constricting, possibly monotonous, so I hear him as a Pee Wee Russell of the piano: going his own completely recognizable ways while uplifting all around him, creating bright-sounding treble lines but also providing solidly original harmonic support and rhythmic propulsion. He was never predictable but always heroically satisfying.
But LADY BE GOOD, because it was impromptu (rain and wind made reading charts impossible) was not what Prof. liked best. He delighted in “paper,” that is, arrangements — but they were charts with plenty of breathing room for the splendid soloists he hired and nurtured. Here’s his powerfully blue version of the Ellington-Stewart MOBILE BAY, also from Evergreen 2014:
and another 2014 romper — this time, because the weather was better, the band could use Prof.’s charts:
Here is Prof. and a band in 2012 — note his dry whimsical introduction:
and a piano solo on one of the most familiar jazz ballads, uniquely Dapogny:
Jim (I have shifted to the non-academic because it feels warmer) was also terribly funny, in person and in print. David Sager says he had “a sly and delicious wit,” which all of us experienced. He was a wordsmith, a jester, a stand-up comedian, a sharp-edged deflater, a Michigan S.J. Perelman. A deadpan improvising comedian, he didn’t mug and pander on the stand, preferring to let the heartfelt music speak.
He and I exchanged emails from 2011 to October 2018: a coda from one of his:
P.S. I don’t know if you ever read the columns of humorist Dave Barry, but I did because Wayne Jones used to send me bundles of them. The ones I liked best were those entitled “Ask Mr. Language Person,” in which Barry answered usage questions ostensibly sent in by readers. One asked about rules for the use of quotation marks in small-business signs. Barry answered that quotation marks were to be used on words chosen at random. Then he gave three examples. Try Our “Pies” Try “Our” Pies “Try” Our Pies To me this is absolutely hilarious. It still makes me laugh.
My relationship with Jim grew and deepened. When I first met him, I was intimidated by his comic rapier, and when I got to know him a little better, I asked him to put it down, which he did without fuss. The more I encountered him, the more I admired him. And finally I — like everyone else who knew him — loved him.
I took him on as one of my not-so-secret spiritual fathers, even though he was only a dozen years my senior. The blend of humor and toughness (he could have shown up in a 1935 Warner Brothers picture, although not as the gangster lead) reminded me of my own father, so he was dear to me. I originally wrote, “I hope I didn’t embarrass him too much with my direct affection,” but on second thought I hope I did embarrass him: that way I would know he had received the message I was sending.
He was extremely kind, superbly generous. I had asked him to write a letter for me in support of a sabbatical I was hoping for, and I dare not read that letter now because I would not be able to write through tears. And every so often he would praise something I’d written, which would make me feel like a peculiarly graceful colossus of words and insights. (Of course, now and again, he corrected my wayward grammar, which made me wince and then rush to fix the lapse.)
Although he knew his own worth, he was infuriatingly modest. I, and then Laura, shot videos of him in performance at Jazz at Chautauqua, the Evergreen Jazz Festival, and the Cleveland Classic Jazz Party. The last email response I got from Jim — late October 2018 — concerned a trio video I had sent him to see if he would agree to my posting it. (Sometimes when I sent him videos, the answer was silence, which I could never tell whether it was “God, no!” or “I am too busy doing other things more important than considering my own performances.) His response, the names redacted in true CIA fashion, was, “OK with me, but this doesn’t scream out for preservation except by being documentation that I once weaseled my way into the company of H- and R-.”
He was always busy transcribing charts for PORK, researching new old music, and more. But I think his secret passion was in what we call, for want of a more gracious term, mentoring. Ask any musician who played or sang with him: Jon-Erik Kellso to Dawn Giblin to Mike Karoub to Erin Morris to the members of his bands. Like Ellington, he saw very clearly what strengths we had, and worked tirelessly to bolster us — offering the most gentle helping hand to make people more glorious versions of their natural selves.
One of my great pleasures, was my being able to visit him and Laura and Erin for a few days in 2016. Yes, Jim was a scholar of all things musical — not just Jelly Roll Morton and James P. Johnson’s operas — and his range was broad. When I visited Ann Arbor, the plan was that I would stay in a quietly nondescript motel, and work on my blog over breakfast (instant oatmeal from paper envelopes, and coffee) and then Jim and I, sometimes Laura along as well, would eat deliriously good ethnic food in some restaurant that only Jim knew — Indian, Korean, Thai, Chinese, Vietnamese — and the conversation would become expertly culinary as well, because he could cook, away from the piano. He was truly insightful but ready to applaud others’ insights.
I dreamed of visiting him again, but missed my chance, just as I missed the opportunity to help bring Jim’s band once again to the Evergreen Jazz Festival in Colorado.
It would please me immensely if others who knew Prof., or James, or Jim, would add their voices to this post. I will close with one of the great beautiful moments captured by video. I am particularly proud of this 2015 performance because of the lovely music and that it was recorded by my friend Laura Beth Wyman. Jim’s own FIREFLY:
The moral that James Dapogny’s life and art and generous friendship offers us is very simple. We are fireflies. At our best, we are brilliant: we trace paths along the summer night sky. But we are fragile. What can we do but live our lives so that when we depart, we are irrevocably missed? As he is.
I will eschew my usual closing — consider it here but unsaid — to send love and sorrow to Jim’s wife, Gail, to his family, to his friends, to all the people he touched.
When it’s in the groove, you know it. And this was: BEI MIR BIS DU SCHOEN, by Brian Holland, piano; Danny Coots, drums; Jacob Zimmerman, clarinet and alto; Marc Caparone, cornet; Steve Pikal, string bass — recorded on the first day of the 2019 Jazz Bash by the Bay, Monterey, California. (Evan Arntzen is pictured above.)
Sonic note: about twenty-five seconds in, you’ll hear a noise to the right: the gentleman in the adjacent seat was savoring his hotel cookie in its crackly paper bag (Danny mimes the appropriate response). To my left, a poised woman from the East Coast — I didn’t get her name — was grooving silently. Bless you, Sister, wherever you are.
That’s some band, as E.B. White used to say. Formed in 2017, they are steadily gaining devoted fans at festivals (details here): Three Rivers, Evergreen, the Stomptime cruise, Hot Jazz Jubilee, Sun Valley, San Diego — and that’s just for now. (Have you heard their debut CD, devoted to Fats?)
I am a devoted fan and supporter, so if you type their name into the JAZZ LIVES search bar, you will find many more wonderful performances . . . and they played magnificently at Monterey.
A new old tune — thanks to the diligent Janette Walker — that has everything one could want in a memorably silly ditty.
And the first page (courtesy, like the cover, of eBay):
A wonderful version — love those saxophones! — thanks to Nick Dellow. Legend has it that Jackson held and recorded jam session parties. Anyone got those discs in paper sleeves in the attic?
Another contemporaneous version, positively lilting. Speculation about the trombonist will be welcomed:
And a treat from this century: Peter Mintun, 2010. JAZZ LIVES has made many pleasurable experiences possible for me, but one of the nicer ones is that I met Peter a few years back when he visited New York City (at an uptown corner pub called the Tryon) where there was good music: he knew my work and I certainly admire his:
Remember to first clear all requests with the proper authorities, no matter what Grandma says . . . unless she has a legal staff and can pay your bail. You’ve been warned.
A garden of earthy delights and delightful people.
It’s the late afternoon of March 2 at the Bash, and it has been wonderful and promises to continue. So far, I’ve heard Carl Sonny Leyland, Marty Eggers, Jeff Hamilton, Brian Holland, Marc Caparone, Jacob Zimmerman, Steve Pikal, Danny Coots, Dawn Lambeth, Paolo Alderighi, Sam Rocha, Danny Tobias, Jim Lawlor, and I’ve swapped hellos, stories, and hugs with Clint Baker, Riley Baker, Stephanie Trick, Paul Hagglund, Katie Cavera, Jeff and Anne Barnhart, Amy Holland, Rae Ann Berry, Barbara Sully, Bill Reinhart, and more. Tonight, if the stars align, I’ll meet the Crescent Katz with Jacob Zimmerman, Holland-Coots again (they blew the roof off yesterday and construction crews have been called in), GROOVUS, and Dawn Lambeth with Clint and Riley Baker, Jerry Krahn, and Ike Harris. Sunday . . . . more Carl Sonny Leyland, Jacob Zimmerman, and GROOVUS.
There are, of course, many other bands and itinerant musicians . . . but these are the people I’ve flown across the continent to see. And I’ll be smiling all the way home. Videos to come, if the Tech Goddess smiles on my efforts. Next year is the Bash’s fortieth anniversary — about fifty-one weeks from now. Make plans!
LONESOME ME is one of Fats Waller’s most lovely — and least-played — songs. Marty Grosz has made several versions, but here’s a particularly splendid performance by the Holland-Coots Jazz Quintet (Danny Coots, drums; Brian Holland, piano; Steve Pikal, string bass; Marc Caparone, cornet; Jacob Zimmerman, clarinet and alto saxophone) at the 2019 Jazz Bash by the Bay in Monterey, California. And catch the beautiful duet between Steve and Jacob once the melody’s been stated.
JAZZ LIVES 