Monthly Archives: April 2020

DRIFTING ON A REED: TED BROWN / BRAD LINDE, GARY VERSACE, AARON QUINN, DERIC DICKENS (The Jazz Gallery: February 2, 2020). . . . BUT WAIT! THERE’S MORE!

Dramatis Personae, 2.2.20.

I’ll let Ted Brown introduce this beautiful new recording:

This is the 4th album Brad and I have done together.  It is the first time we have recorded with an audience and the first time we have worked with a Hammond B-3 organ.

Brad arranged for us to do it at the Jazz Gallery on Broadway in New York on February 2nd.  We did two sets with Gary Versace on organ, Aaron Quinn on guitar, Deric Dickens on drums, and Brad and I on tenor saxophones.  I am now 92 years old and was not really expecting this.

It felt really good and we all had a good time.  Also, st Brad’s urging, I managed to write a new tune entitled “Watch Out!” based on an old standard called “Sunday.”

Brad and Ted allowed me to come to the recording session wih my camera, so here are two performances that I captured.  Know that the sound on the issued download is far superior.  Both are Charlie Parker tunes; Brad told me that he picked the repertoire to celebrate Bird’s centennial and his intersection with Tristano. The CD is also dedicated to Lee Konitz for obvious reasons.

SCRAPPLE FROM THE APPLE:

DRIFTING ON A REED (alias AIR CONDITIONING or BIG FOOT):

Now, before you rush to bandcamp.com to purchase this music, may I ask you to do the least contemporary act — that is, to delay gratification?  On Friday, May 1, Bandcamp will waive its usual fees and give all revenue from sales directly to the musicians.  So if you are reading this on Thursday, April 30, you are too early to make the most effective purchase; if you are reading this on Saturday, May 2, or later, you’ve missed the window of the greatest collective good.  But buying the music is the thing to do in any case.

Here‘s the link: now you’re on your own!

The Scene.

In the best of times, the artists who sustain us need and deserve our support.  These aren’t the best of times.  Act accordingly, please.

May your happiness increase!

WISTFUL STRENGTH: CHRIS HOPKINS at the PIANO

Say it simple: Chris Hopkins is such a fine pianist.

He is imaginative without being self-consciously “innovative”; he respects the composer’s intentions without being enslaved by the manuscript; he is both delicate and sure-footed.  The temptation, I think, is to play Eubie Blake’s MEMORIES OF YOU as eulogy or elegy even before the current world so violently changed shape, but Chris’ performance is tender and rueful without getting bogged down.  Admire his touch; his harmonies; his taste [he plays the verse, also].  And subscribe to his YouTube channel — why deprive yourself of pleasures?  It’s here, and there is space in the cyber-clubhouse for you.  Now, the music:

Chris’ “problem,” I say facetiously, is that he is also a world-class improviser on the alto saxophone, which he plays gloriously with the marvelous quartet of shape-changers called Echoes of Swing . . . you could look that up, too.  I think that, like me, you might have four bars of leisure time more than two months ago to admire his work — on CD and on YouTube — thoroughly. But of course I could be mistaken.

May your happiness increase!

SWINGIN’ AT HOME, or FATS INSPIRES HIS SWISS FRIENDS, WHO THEN INSPIRE US

Early on in the quarantine I published a post introducing viewers to a rare Fats Waller – Andy Razaf composition / performance, STAYIN’ AT HOME: it is here.

Then I received a charming email — from strangers who are now dear friends, the swinging pack led by Duke Seidmann:

Hi Michael

See see writer
See what yo have done:
You posted this a month ago : https://jazzlives.wordpress.com/2020/03/18/a-tune-for-our-times/

I knew the tune before, but your suggestion came just in time. It inspired us to turn the song into two boogiewoogie-versions in Switzerland! (nobody can play it like Fats anyway…)
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-QBxp6MowhI

Hope you dig it!

Swisskrissly yours
Duke

When I stopped laughing, I visited the performance and was charmed:

And here are the nimble Merrymakers:

CHRIS CONZ QUARTET: Chris Conz (p, arr) Duke Seidmann (voc, ts, arr) Arno Schulz (b) Martin Meyer (dm).  Home-Recorded April 8-10, 2020 in Uster, Pfaffhausen, Villnachern and Wohlen (Switzerland)
Mix, Mastering, Director: Chris Conz

I wrote back to Duke, asking permission to post it and got this fine mess of keystrokes (I am saying this in my Fats-voice):

well, it’s not really studio quality, but we wanted to encourage all the medical specialists in the hospitals and labs that fight against that bloody virus. That’s what the Swiss German words mean: There’s not much I can do while you courageously do your job. At least I can get out of the way….and stay home!

We had to record this separately in four different rehearsal rooms and send in the files. Chris did a great job in mixing everything together in a balanced way (goofs included…;-)! By the way: he’s not only a very successful boogie woogie pianist and festival entrepreneur, but also has great understanding for swing piano in general (listen to his laid-back Jay McShann-esque accompaniment here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=q4VU2aIoiQM)!

I’m glad that you dig our continental attempts to keep the flame!

I did and do, and I salute these swingers who have a sense of humor and a social conscience:

The YouTube channel where all this good Frolicking comes from is International Boogie Nights.  I’ve subscribed and I encourage you to do also.

Postscript: the other side of the Bluebird STAYIN’ AT HOME is Fats’ very tender mournful version — no clowning — of I’LL NEVER SMILE AGAIN, which, although I love that recording, is not something I want to post right now, for obvious reasons.  Anyway, Duke, Chris, Arno, and Martin make me smile.

May your happiness increase!

LET’S GET GROOVY: JACOB ZIMMERMAN, MARC CAPARONE, BRIAN HOLLAND, STEVE PIKAL, DANNY COOTS (a/k/a THE HOLLAND-COOTS JAZZ QUINTET) at the JAZZ BASH BY THE BAY, March 7, 2020

DINAH is one of the standbys of the swing-jazz-vocal repertoire, and has been so since Ethel Waters introduced it in 1925.

But it has been played faster and faster since then.  Here it’s completely groovy, performed by the Holland-Coots Jazz Quintet, featuring Jacob Zimmerman, alto saxophone; Marc Caparone, cornet; Danny Coots, drums; Steve Pikal, string bass; Brian Holland, piano, at the Jazz Bash by the Bay in Monterey, California, on March 7, 2020.

Harry Lim texted me to say how much he approves of this, by the way. He wants to sign the HCQ to a Keynote Records contract but is having trouble sending the paperwork.

They can really play.

May your happiness increase!

MAKING THE MUNDANE BEAUTIFUL, or LONG SLEEVES (Part One)

I am slowly getting back into 78-record collecting, thanks to Matthew “Fat Cat” Rivera, and I emphasize “slowly”: no bidding wars, and many of the records I’ve purchased would be considered “common” by more well-established collectors, although I will — immodestly — begin with a picture of a record I treasure, bought a few years ago.

However, this post isn’t primarily about the recorded obsession.  It is about the beauty of the ordinary: the paper sleeves once personalized by record stores.  I saw an eBay site devoted to jazz records from Denmark, and was thrilled by the more ornate labels of the records themselves and the beautifully creative sleeves.  There will be only three minutes of music on this post, but you can follow my lead to YouTube, where many of these recordings are waiting for your tender, approving touch.  Today my subject is advertising art at its most sweetly distinctive.

The eBay seller I have borrowed these images from is https://www.ebay.com/usr/seuk880, and the 78s are still for sale, as I write this in the last week of April 2020.  The seller has a large and varied collection, but here are a few that caught my eye — and might catch yours as well.

Tommy Ladnier, in high style:

Billie, originally on Commodore:

Louis, for my friend Katherine:

Hawkins, solo, a two-sided meditation:

This (below) is my absolute favorite of the whole series, and it it were not $10 for the Morton disc and $18 for the shipping, it would be on its way to me now.  Please, someone, buy this so I don’t have to?

Ella and Louis:

Glenn Miller:

Fats meets Freddy:

I don’t know the artist but could not resist the sleeve:

and here Aladdin points the way to swing:

I think ten of these beauties is enough for one post, but if there is interest, I have nineteen or twenty more sleeve-images to share with you.  And would.

I promised you three minutes of music, so that no one would go to bed feeling deprived.  Here’s REINCARNATION by Paul Mares and his Friars Society Orchestra : Paul Mares, trumpet; Santo Pecora, trombone; Omer Simeon, clarinet; Boyce Brown, alto saxophone; Jess Stacy, piano; Marvin Saxbe, guitar;  Pat Pattison, string bass; George Wettling, drums — January 1935, Chicago:

May your happiness increase!

MISS HUNTER’S LESSONS

I had originally planned to post two versions of NOBODY KNOWS YOU WHEN YOU’RE DOWN AND OUT — written six years before the stock market crash of 1929 — by Bessie Smith and Eddie Condon, when I came across this version by Alberta Hunter, in her November 1981 performance at the Smithsonian.  Miss Hunter (it feels disrespectful to write about her in any other way) was in her eighties, and was accompanied by Gerald Cook, piano; Al Hall, string bass.  

In this song, Miss Hunter teaches a vital lesson about independence, self-worth, and self-trust.  She is not only a magnificent singer but a wondrous sage, her brief episode suffused with its own majesty, a violence held back and controlled and thus, to me, even more powerful.  The emotions I feel, coming through this song, are her disappointment, regret, even fury — but Miss Hunter tells us to use her experiences to protect ourselves and to transcend the wounds.  I celebrate her wisdom: pain can be made into art and in that way, pain is more than itself.  

May your happiness increase!

JIMMY MAZZY’S SOULFUL SELVES: SARAH SPENCER, BILL SINCLAIR, ART HOVEY (2019, 2016)

I first have to thank my dear friend Sarah Spencer — essential in so many ways — for telling me about the first video (as well as being the central part of those that follow).  This small post is about the divinely inspired Jimmy Mazzy, banjo icon, magnificent singer, and occasionally philosopher-humorist.

Jimmy was inducted into the American Banjo Museum’s Hall of Fame in September 2019, and happily there is a video tribute.  The first five minutes are a respectful overview of his career, with delightful photographs and a snippet of performance, leading up to his own solo turn on MY PRAYER.

Dear viewers, please make time to drink in the majesty of this performance.  I think of Jimmy as at heart shy — but when he begins to sing, passion courses through him and comes straight to us.  It’s electrifying, and it is a prayer.

As a kind of aesthetic palate-cleanser (that’s a compliment, son) here is Steve Provizer’s wonderful profile of Jimmy in THE SYNCOPATED TIMES, notable for Jimmy’s deeply-felt candor and humanity.

I have had only one extended occasion to witness Jimmy — majestic, funky, hilarious, and completely soulful — right up close, at Sarah’s Wine Bar, in Ridgefield, Connecticut, when he appeared with Sarah, Art Hovey, and Bill Sinclair on August 28, 2016.  Again, divinely inspired, joyous, and touching.  The performance is here in three parts: here, here,  and here.  At the time, we knew this evening was something special: it radiates even more strongly now.

May your happiness increase!

WELCOME, JESS KING!* (with Clint Baker’s New Orleans Jazz Band, Jazz Bash by the Bay, March 8, 2020) [*AGAIN!]

It’s presumptuous of me to welcome Jess King — a warm-hearted swinging singer and banjo-guitarist-percussionist — to the world, since she has been making music in the Bay Area most happily for a time.  But this is the first opportunity I have to post videos of her performance, so that could count as a welcome — to JAZZ LIVES, at least.  [On Facebook, she’s Jessica King Music.]

I knew of her work for some time with Clint Baker’s All-Stars at Cafe Borrone, performances documented by Rae Ann Berry, and a few other lovely videos of Jess with hero-friends Nick Rossi and Bill Reinhart, and Jeff Hamilton at Bird and Beckett, have appeared in the usual places. . . such as here, which is her own YouTube channel.  I am directing you there because there are — horrors! — other people with the same name on YouTube.  The impudence.

In researching this post, however, I found that my idea of “welcome” above was hilariously inaccurate, because I had posted videos of Jess singing with Clint’s band at a Wednesday Night Hop on January 8, 2014.  That’s a long time back, and I am not posting the videos here because she might think of them as juvenilia, but both she and I were in the same space and moment, which shows that a) she’s been singing well for longer than I remembered, and b) that it’s a good thing that I am wielding a video camera rather than something really dangerous, like a scissors.  I tell myself, “It was really dark there.  I apologize.”

But enough verbiage.

Jess herself is more than gracious, and when I asked her to say where she’d come from, she wrote, “I’d say I’m inspired by blues, traditional jazz, swing, Western swing, and r&b.  Vocally, Barbara Dane has been a big influence on me. I also really love Una Mae Carlisle, Peggy Lee, Nat Cole, Bessie Smith, Anita O’Day, and of course Ella Fitzgerald. I grew up listening to a lot of Nat Cole, Patsy Cline, Aretha Franklin, and Lauren Hill. Random enough for ya? 😂 Clint Baker and Isabelle Magidson have both been so good to me as mentors and dear friends. They’re a huge part of my musical growth in this community.”

Here’s Jess, with Clint Baker’s New Orleans Jazz Band, on March 8, 2020, at the Jazz Bash by the Bay (the four selections taken from two sets that day).  The NOJB is Clint, trumpet; Ryan Calloway, clarinet; Riley Baker, trombone; Bill Reinhart, banjo; Carl Sonny Leyland, piano; [Jeff Hamilton is on ROSETTA]; Katie Cavera, string bass; Hal Smith, drums.

ROSETTA:

SAN FRANCISCO BAY BLUES:

HESITATIN’ BLUES (or HESITATING or HESITATION, depending on which sect you belong to, Reform, Conservative, or Orthodox):

and her gentle, affectionate take on SUGAR:

She has IT — however you would define that pronoun — and the instrumentalists she works with speak of her with admiration and respect.  And when the world returns to its normal axis and rational behavior is once again possible, Jess has plans for her first CD under her own name.  I suggested that the title be THE KING OF SING, but I fear it was too immodest for her.  She makes good music: that is all I will say.

May your happiness increase!

THAT RHYTHM, MAN

It gives me great pleasure to have heroes in music (and elsewhere) who are younger: that they’ll outlive me is a delightful thought — I see a continuity of wisdom and love embodied stretching in to the future.

Years gone by: 2008.

A special member of this crew is percussionist-philosopher Kevin Dorn, whom I’ve had the good fortune to know and admire for sixteen years this autumn. In person, Kevin has always shied away from the least taint of didacticism: he knows many things and will gladly share his thoughts and feelings in the right circumstances, but he’s never itching to tell you why he’s right and you’re wrong: a great humility.

The canard is that those who can’t do, teach, but Kevin has been creating and sharing the most delightful and informative solo drum videos — on request — with us. Here are his most recent offerings.

Inspired by the sounds I heard and saw, I wanted to play drums: the apex of this ambition was buying a pair of 5B parade sticks from Jo Jones at Ippolito’s Drum Shop, but I lacked both the focus and the coordination to make them dance. But I, and others, can live joyously through Kevin while he reveals the deep mysteries behind the sounds we groove to.

Another facet of George Wettling’s magic:

Getting Cozy:

I find this extended exposition particularly thrilling:

and Kevin himself has his say, neatly pressed, as always:

“Good deal!”  You can subscribe to Kevin’s YouTube channel here.

Emerson writes in NATURE (I am grossly paraphrasing) that everything, closely observed, is beautiful.  Proof here.

May your happiness increase!

SONGS FOR LEE / SONGS FROM LEE (October 21 / 22, 2017)

It’s never too late to celebrate Beauty.

And with that thought — and the passing-away of Lee Konitz this month at 92 — I present this poignant performance from a CD (which just arrived in the mail) called OLD SONGS NEW by Lee’s 2017 Nonet — arranged by Ohad Talmor.  You can hear more music from this CD, purchase a download or an actual disc here. I encourage you to do the latter two. 

The members of the Nonet are Lee Konitz, alto saxophone; Ohad Talmor, tenor saxophone (5), arranger, conductor; Caroline Davis, flute and alto flute; Christof Knoche, clarinet; Denis Lee, bass clarinet; Judith Insell, viola; Mariel Roberts, cello; Dimos Goudaroulis, cello; Christopher Tordini, bass; George Schuller, drums.  And Talmor’s music is such a wildly delicious repast that I found myself listening — for the third time today — to it, alone, as best I could.

Here is Gordon Jenkins’ heartbreaking GOOD-BYE:

It is right to say Farewell to the Lee Konitz who carried a saxophone case, spoke, sang, and played.  That temporal envelope is gone.  But much remains: the songs, the passions, the intelligence, the sound.  So this is, to me, the fitting countermelody and countertruth, by Harry Warren:

I could write this post in honor of so many people, both dear to me and others, nameless but dear to others, who have moved to another neighborhood where they seem inaccessible.  But I will leave such griefs to you, and, instead, offer this music to console, to solace, to uplift — to attempt to keep us buoyant in darkness. 

May your happiness increase!

ROSE-THORN NEEDLES and OTHER GOOD STORIES: PUG HORTON TALKS WITH MONK ROWE (1998)

Pug Horton and Bob Wilber in performance

In these confined days, what could be better than having esteemed entertaining guests come to your house and tell wonderful stories?

The remarkable singer Joanne “Pug” Horton, who’s had a long career and is still buoyantly trotting, talks to the very thoughtful Monk Rowe, and reveals fascinating parts of her life — not only being a “jazz-crazy” eleven-year old girl in the north of England discovering Bessie Smith, but as a discerning adult trying to negotiate with her noble husband Bob Wilber through the “overcrowded profession” that was the jazz world of 1998, and someone with deep perceptions of the ideal relationship between the musicians and the audience . . . as well as “teaching sedition” in academia:

Here‘s my contribution to the great story: video-recordings of Pug, Bob, and Ehud Aherie at Smalls in 2012.

In case you missed it, Monk spoke with Bob, who also had thrilling stories:

Here‘s my own tasting menu of Monk’s interviews, which are priceless and become more so daily.

And if you worry, Pug is doing splendidly: Can’t think of a better place to be..Bob was so happy here & we have wonderful interesting friends who adored him…It’s amazing living in a small town..Packages of food left for friends on the doorstep, with foodie gifts ….I march down the centre of our High St every day, keeping my distance…

Inspiring, no?

May your happiness increase!

ON MARCH 12, 2020, WHEN BROADWAY WENT DARK, THIS INSPIRED QUARTET MADE BARROW STREET AS BRIGHT AS DAY (JON-ERIK KELLSO, EVAN ARNTZEN, JOSH DUNN, SEAN CRONIN)

For those of us who are paying attention, this is a scary time.  But when Jon-Erik Kellso suggested with polite urgency that we might want to join him and the Cafe Bohemia Jazz Quartet on Thursday, March 12 — it seems a lifetime ago — I stuffed a produce-section plastic bag in my jacket pocket (it took a few more days to find gloves) took a half-empty commuter train, got on an even more empty subway, and walked a few quiet blocks to this place, the home of restorative music and friends since last September: Cafe Bohemia at 15 Barrow Street, New York City.

We sensed that the huge dark doors were closing, although we didn’t know what would follow (we still are like people fumbling for the light switch in a strange room full of things to trip over).  But music, artistic intelligence, soulful energy, and loving heat were all beautifully present that night.  I hope that these video-recordings of these performances can light our way in the days ahead.  And, for me, I needed to post music by people who are alive, medically as well as spiritually.  So here are three inventive performances from that night.  Subliminally, the songs chosen were all “good old good ones” that can be traced back to Louis, which is never a bad thing.

YOU’RE DRIVING ME CRAZY — perhaps the theme song for quarantined couples and families? — with the world’s best ending:

Honoring another savory part of Lower Manhattan, CHINATOWN:

And the oft-played ROYAL GARDEN BLUES, here all bright and shiny with love.  Everyone in the band lights up the night sky, but please pay attention to Sean Cronin playing the blues in the best Pops-Foster-superhero-style.  This venerable song is often played far too fast, but Jon-Erik kicked it off at a wonderfully groovy tempo, reminding me of Bix and his Gang, and the Benny Goodman Sextet of 1940-41:

If, in some unimaginable future, a brave doctor leans over me and says, “He shouldn’t have gone into the city on March 12, you know,” my lifeless form will resurrect just long enough to say, “You’ve got it wrong.  It was completely worth it.”

Bless these four embodiments of healing joy, as well as Christine Santelli and Mike Zielenewski of Cafe Bohemia, too.  And here are three other lovely performances from earlier in the evening: I CAN’T BELIEVE THAT YOU’RE IN LOVE WITH ME, WILLIE THE WEEPER (he was a low-down chimney sweeper, if you didn’t know that), and the MEMPHIS BLUES.

This should be obvious, but people under stress might forget to look at “the larger picture,” that others have a hard time also.  I’ve created this post for free, but what follows isn’t about me or what’s in my refrigerator.  The musicians didn’t receive extra money for entertaining  you.  How can you help them and express gratitude?  Simple.  Buy their CDs from their websites.  Help publicize their virtual house concerts — spread the news, share the joy — and toss something larger than a virtual zero into the virtual tip jar.  Musicians live in a gig economy, and we need their generous art more than we can say.  Let’s not miss the water because we ourselves have let the well run dry.

Spiritual generosity means much more than a whole carton of hand sanitizer, and what you give open-handedly to others comes back to your doorstep.

May your happiness increase!

JUST GIVE THAT RHYTHM EVERYTHING YOU’VE GOT: ANOTHER TUNE FROM THE MARTY PARTY (March 4, 2020)

More from the Marty Party! — music from Marty Grosz’s ninetieth birthday party, held at the World Cafe Live in Philadelphia. The WCL was sold out, the audience was happy and attentive, and Marty enjoyed himself — he even picked up the banjo on several numbers. 

Beginning with a classically elongated MOG introduction, here’s a song I’ve never heard him play, although he always embodies it, IT DON’T MEAN A THING (IF IT AIN’T GOT THAT SWING). His colleagues are Joe Plowman, string bass and superpowers; Vince Giordano, bass saxophone; Jack Saint Clair, tenor saxophone; Scott Robinson, taragoto; Dan Block, clarinet; Jim Lawlor, drums; Randy Reinhart, trombone; Danny Tobias, trumpet.

and before we get to the music, I will remind you that this party was not only a birthday jam but a celebration of Marty’s autobiography, IT’S A SIN TO TELL A LIE: MY LIFE IN JAZZ, published by the Golden Alley Press.  It’s a wonderful book — read more about it here.  And here‘s JAZZ ME BLUES — with Marty on banjo — from the party.

And straight from the World Cafe Live, the manifesto we live by: 

May your happiness increase!

LIKE CURES LIKE, IN B FLAT

Doctor Leyland, Doctor Ramirez. By appointment only.

I’m not a practitioner of homeopathy, although I have used some of its remedies with success.  But I do know that a basic principle is “like cures like”: you suffer from too much heat, you take in a remedy that increases the heat.  Bear with me.

Doctor Hamilton. “May I see your insurance card?”

In gloomy times like this, my first impulse is to share the most effervescent music I can find, and I suppose that might work for some listeners.  But today I am taking a homeopathic approach: offer you some gloomy groovy sounds — and please do wait for the musical punchline!

Doctor Zimmerman. Take as needed.

These four eminent medical professionals got together for a consult on Saturday, March 7, under the auspices of the Jazz Bash by the Bay, in Monterey, California: Carl Sonny Leyland, piano, vocal, and moral enlightenment; Lakshmi Ramirez, string bass and mood-enhancement; Jeff Hamilton, drums and philosophical commentary; Jacob Zimmerman, alto saxophone and spiritual journeys.  Under Doctor Leyland’s guidance, they performed a Dark Sonata in Bb, otherwise known as the Empty Room Blues, recorded by Memphis Slim in late 1940:

I don’t know why this makes me feel better.  It would make me uncomfortable to think it was Schadenfreude — “Hey, someone’s got it worse and that’s wonderful!” — but perhaps it is the immense joy of hearing these artists bring such light-hearted expertise to a dark text.  And the punchline makes me laugh.

I hope you feel better, too.  Don’t hesitate to call the office if symptoms recur.May your happiness increase!

LEE KONITZ AT CLOSE RANGE: TED BROWN, BRAD LINDE, JUDY NIEMACK, MICHAEL KANAN, MURRAY WALL, JEFF BROWN (The Drawing Room, Brooklyn, December 6, 2015)

Others who knew him well have written with great eloquence about Lee Konitz, who moved into spirit a few days ago, having shared his gifts with us for 92 years. So I will simply share a video-recording of the one performance I was privileged to attend and record, and the story around it.  I am sharing this performance at the request of several of the participating musicians, to honor Lee Konitz as he was in life, moving from WHAT IS  THIS THING CALLED LOVE? into SUBCONSCIOUS-LEE (a title given the line by string bassist Arnold Fishkind).

The performance took place on December 6, 2015, at a session celebrating Ted Brown, held at the Drawing Room, Michael Kanan and Stephanie Greig’s strudio in Brooklyn: the late Lee Konitz is far right, Brad Linde, tenor, in the center, Ted Brown, tenor, to the left, Judy Niemack, vocal; Michael Kanan, piano; Murray Wall, string bass; Jeff Brown, drums.

Before I tell my tale, I am grateful to Brad Linde for writing about that night:

Birthday party performances with and for Ted Brown were perennial favorites for me to host at the Drawing Room in Brooklyn. Over the years, there has been a cast of characters from the Tristano School family and adjacent musicians that frequently play with Ted and myself.

This particular night I drove up from DC, returning Aaron Quinn, Miho Hazama, and Jon Irabagon to the city after a gig at the Kennedy Center. I picked up Ted’s cake and made it to the venue with less than the usual time to spare. Two big surprises awaited me. The first was that my tenor has suffered damage in transit and was leaking in the middle of the horn – a devastating discovery. The second was the improbable appearance of Lee Konitz in Brooklyn!

For years, I had dreamed of situating myself in a performance alongside Ted and Lee. And here the dream came true at the worst possible time for my Conn 10M. We started off with “All The Things You Are” and after my stuttering improvisation on a out-of-balance horn, Lee said to me “Nobody’s perfect,” and smiled.

Lena Bloch arrived and graciously loaned me her horn while she diligently worked to repair mine. The night became a family affair with Judy, Lena, Aaron, Murray, Joe Solomon, Jeff, Michael, Ted, and Lee playing familiar standards with unfamiliar results. Lee, at the time known for scatting as much or more than playing, was on fire, playing long choruses and revisiting the sinewy lines.

A big, fun night with heroes and friends. The sounds of surprise.

My perspective on the evening is possibly more humanly embarrassing than Brad’s leaking tenor saxophone.  I met Michael Kanan in 2010 through Joel Press, and Michael impressed me immediately as musician and person, so when I could I came to his gigs and often brought my video camera, about which he was both gracious and scrupulous.  I think it was through Michael that I met Ted Brown and Brad Linde, both of whom extended the same welcome to me.  Thus I attended a number of sessions at The Drawing Room, the upstairs studio on Willoughby Street, Brooklyn, that Michael and Stephanie Greig maintained.

When I heard of this December 2015 session in celebration of Ted, I immediately bought a ticket and came with my camera, as I had done before.  The studio was a long narrow room, and I took up the best position I could, a chair to the far right in the first row, set up my tripod, and waited for the music to begin.  As you can see on the video, the chairs in the front row were not far from the front line.  When Brad and Ted arrived, bringing Lee with them, the room was not wide enough to accommodate all the horn-players in one straight line, so Lee ended up sitting right in front of me.  Reluctantly and with hesitation, I might add. I chose the large photograph for this blogpost because his expression carries some of the same unspoken emotions.

Lee did not speak to me, but he was clearly discomfited to find someone he did not know seated almost at his elbow with an (admittedly small) camera aimed at him and the rest of the front line.  I did not hear precisely what he said to Brad, but motioning to me, his face turned away, I could see his face in a grimace of inquiry.  Other musicians have said of me, speaking to someone in the band whom they knew, “What [not who!] is that?” and I believe Lee asked Brad something similar, and I think Brad replied, “That’s Michael.  He’s OK.  I asked him to come here,” which mollified Lee so that he didn’t turn to me and tell me to leave, but whenever he did notice me, his facial expression was shocked and stern.  But he was a professional, with decades of blocking out nuisances, and the evening proceeded. I spent the evening in anxiety, waiting for him to decide he had had enough of my proximity, but perhaps he lost himself in the joy of playing and singing among friends.  You can see the results for yourself.  

All I can hope for myself is that Lee’s spirit forgives me interloper who was much too close and, without asking  permission or begging his pardon, gobbled up a piece of his art and has given it to the public.  And all I can hope for us is that we crate what we are meant to with such prolific energy, and that we, too, leave such a large hole in the universe when we move into spirit.

May your happiness increase!

BEAUTY AND THE BLUES: JOE WILDER, HARRY ALLEN, ROSSANO SPORTIELLO, JON BURR (Jazz at Chautauqua, September 17, 2009)

I offer you the second part of a glorious informal session from Thursday night, September 17, 2009 at Jazz at Chautauqua — a quartet of lyrical melodists: Joe Wilder, trumpet and flugelhorn; Harry Allen, tenor saxophone; Rossano Sportiello, piano; Jon Burr, string bass.  Here is the first part of the evening’s festivities: DON’T BLAME ME, ‘DEED I DO, and JUST SQUEEZE ME.

Mr.Wilder, himself: characteristically cheerful and beautifully dressed:

Messrs. Allen, Burr, and Wilder.  You’ll hear Fratello Sportiello soon:

Here is music to delight the angels, Joe’s EMBRACEABLE YOU:

and the Basie-flavored protestation of good humor, I AIN’T MAD AT YOU:

How fortunate I was to be there, and (without self-congratulation, I hope) how fortunate that I had a camera.  Bless these four brilliant modest luminaries.  In my thoughts, I embrace them all.

May your happiness increase!

YOUR HAPPINESS LIES / RIGHT UNDER YOUR EYES, or POSTPONE THAT TRIP (2020 Edition)

I believe that the first version of this now-neglected classic song I heard was Jolson’s, then Billie’s . . . and it is even more pertinent now, as an antidote to the restless itch to be somewhere else, or to have a “bucket list” of places to visit.  In this time of sheltering-at-home, to me it seems the ideal soundtrack, even if your backyard is only imaginary or remembered.

From 2011:

2012:

Later that year, and closer to my backyard:

2014:

and 2016:

I even have a version of this song recorded in March 2020, but it hasn’t passed the Imperial Board of Censors just yet.  And since I am keenly aware of ironies, I know that for all but one of these performances celebrating the joys of one’s own place, I had to get on a plane to enjoy and record it.  Calling Steven Wright or perhaps Ralph Waldo Emerson — the latter of whom wrote “Traveling is a fool’s paradise. Our first journeys discover to us the indifference of places. At home I dream that at Naples, at Rome, I can be intoxicated with beauty, and lose my sadness. I pack my trunk, embrace my friends, embark on the sea, and at last wake up in Naples, and there beside me is the stern fact, the sad self, unrelenting, identical, that I fled from.

So today, perhaps, I will put off the thrilling journey to the Post Office and, later, when adventure calls to me, I will take the cardboard boxes to the recycling area. Back in my own backyard for sure.  Possibly constrained, but reasonably safe from harm.

May your happiness increase!

 

WITH A HAPPY REFRAIN: TAMAR KORN SINGS FOR QUINN (and US)

Tamar, 2008

Tamar Korn has been a bright light in my sky for more than a decade now, since I first watched and heard her (I am sure I was open-mouthed astonished) perhaps at Banjo Jim’s.  Early on, I did ask her, “What planet are you from?” and she laughed but wouldn’t answer.  My inquiries to NASA have proven fruitless, and I think the rumor of her being born in California is just to throw us off the track.  Whatever . . . Tamar sent me this video a few days ago and I felt it was and is a great gift.  She wanted me to tell you that she was singing for her three-and-a-half year old nephew Quinn.  But I know that she won’t mind our joining the party.

No Gene Kelly, no puddles, but Tamar, a raincoat, and an umbrella are more than enough to lift our hearts.  Even without the raincoat and umbrella.

and because the prevailing circumstances make it terribly relevant, I offer another of Tamar’s performances — recorded out of doors.

Tamar’s Wildwood Ramblers, ten years later: Evan Arntzen, Adam Brisbin, Sean Cronin, Dennis Lichtman

It’s a Yiddish song that offers its hearers the most fervent wishes for health and happiness: read about it and witness this outpouring of barefoot joy here.

Photograph by Michael Steinman

I may have told the story of the greenish phone-photograph above, but it pleases me.  When I posted the photograph on one or another blogpost, someone said to me in the mocking tone of one who has discovered a slightly naughty secret, “You love her, don’t you?!”  I grinned at my interrogator and said immediately, “Of course.”  It seemed a very foolish question and it still does.

May your happiness increase!

HOT SOUNDS (Part Two) FROM THE WEATHERBIRD JAZZ BAND (BENT PERSSON, JESSE LINDGREN, TOMAS ORNBERG, ULF JOHANSSON WERRE, GORAN LIND, GORAN STACHEWSKY)

For the moment, it has stopped raining where I am, but skies worldwide still need to be brightened.  Music is one of the best ways I know.  Hot music.

You can read more about how these videos came to me (thanks to Kriss) and hear a wonderful WOLVERINE BLUES here.

For these performances, the Birds are Bent Persson, trumpet / cornet; Goran Stachewsky, banjo; Goran Lind, string bass; Ulf Johansson Werre, piano; Tomas Ornberg, reeds; Jens “Jesse” Lindgren, trombone.

Today, a quartet of songs / performances associated with Louis in his late Twenties cosmology.  And please listen closely to Bent, who has spent years in study and performance of the Louis Hot Choruses / Hot Breaks book from 1927: an ascending break can be heard late in NEW ORLEANS STOMP, and a whole chorus in JIMTOWN BLUES, a song Louis never recorded.  And the Weatherbirds romp . . . if birds can be said to romp!  (Perhaps another verb for jubilation?  No matter.)

NEW ORLEANS STOMP:

SAVE IT, PRETTY MAMA, with a Hines-chorus from Ulf and an evocative vocal by Jesse, while Tomas imagines Bechet joining Louis in the OKeh studios:

WILLIE THE WEEPER — so much swing in under three minutes:

JIMTOWN BLUES:

Kriss has promised me more, as these wonderful Birds fly over . . .

May your happiness increase!

AND NOW, A WORD FROM OUR SPONSOR (1974)

In this 1974 short film, art and capitalism embrace fervently.  Actually, it’s a commercial for a “soft drink,” bubbly. brown, and sweet:

Completely refreshing, and it suggests something about the lovely arc of a unique man, his life and ours transformed by his brilliant musical imagination.

Curious about this phenomenon, I found this artifact — on ebay.com, of course.  The record contains Dr. Pepper commercials done by Eubie, Anita O’Day, Grandpa Jones, Doc Watson, Muddy Waters . . .

As a result, I now see in my mind’s eye the famous television commercial of a young man bounding down a city street with a cold bottle in his hand, asking all of us if we wouldn’t like to be “a Pepper, too.”

I only wish I had known this in 1971 and 1972 when I saw Eubie live: I would have been too shy to bring him a Dr. Pepper from the corner deli, but I wish I had made the connection.  And, yes, I believe him when he says he likes the taste. Get your own blog if you want to scoff at us.  I drink soda very rarely, and it is before breakfast, but I wouldn’t mind a glass of it now.

May your happiness increase!

EDDY DAVIS, PRESENT TENSE (1940-2020), Part Five — “WILD REEDS AND WICKED RHYTHM” AT THE CAJUN with SCOTT ROBINSON, MICHAEL HASHIM, DMITRI KOLESNIKOV, BOB RINGWALD

Eddy Davis at ScienSonic Laboratories

For the moment, this is my final bowing-low in a series in honor of Eddy Davis (even though I have more music and words from December 26, 2019, to share).  I’ve devoted nearly a week of posts to him because of the intense emotional collision of grief and joy he brings forth in me and those who knew him and enjoyed his work.  His play, I should say.  I’ve been going backwards chronologically, and although I saw and enjoyed Eddy and “Wild Reeds and Wicked Rhythm” at The Cajun possibly very early in 2005, this 2006 session was the first time I brought a video camera there.

THE CAJUN, by Barbara Rosene –a Wednesday night.

Ordinarily, the band would have been Eddy; Scott Robinson, C-melody saxophone; Orange Kellin, clarinet; Conal Fowkes, piano; Greg Cohen or Debbie Kennedy, string bass, with guests.  For this night — July 5, 2006 — it was Eddy, Scott, Conal, Dmitri Kolesnikov, string bass, Michael Hashim on alto and soprano saxophones, with a guest appearance by Bob Ringwald, piano and vocal.

The camera I was then using recorded to mini-DVD discs, a particularly stubborn medium, so these videos stayed on the shelf until 2017, when I found that I could transfer and share them.  I asked Eddy if that was something he would like (he did) and then asked if he would write something about the gig:

WILD REEDS AND WICKED RHYTHM

I, Eddy Davis, have in my lifetime had the pleasure of having many wonderful Jazz Bands filled with wonderful musicians. It all started back in “The Windy City” in the late 1950’s and early 1960’s. I was a Composition student at the Chicago Conservatory and working as a band leader for the Syndicate on Chicago’s infamous Rush Street. Boy, those were the days. During this time many great, interesting musicians came through the band.

Fellows like “Kansas” Fields, who had just returned from a ten year stint in Paris and Charles “Truck” Parham who started in the music business as a truck driver for the Fletcher Henderson Band. He was hauling the band instruments from job to job. When I asked Truck how he got his nickname he told me this story. He said: “One night the bass player got drunk and couldn’t play, so Fletcher said “Hey, Truck, get up on the band stand and act like you are playing the bass.” He said he liked it so much that he bought a bass and learned to play it. When he came to my band he had just gotten off the Pearl Bailey/Louie Bellson trio. When he left my band he joined the CBS staff orchestra. I was lucky enough to have the likes of Frank Powers or Bobby Gordon on Clarinet.  I had the wonderful Norman Murphy on trumpet who had been in the Brass section of Gene Krupa’s Big Band. I also had the hilarious Jack “The Bear” Brown on trumpet. My band played opposite the original “Dukes of Dixieland” for a solid year at the club “Bourbon Street” in the middle. There were the Asuntos — Frank, on Trumpet — Freddie on Trombone and PaPa Jack on Trombone and Banjo. Gene Schroeder was on piano (where I learned so much) and the fantastic Barrett Deems on Drums.

At the Sari-S Showboat I was in the band of the great Trombonist Grorg Brunis, the Marsala Brothers, Joe and Marty, along with “Hey Hey” Humphries on drums, were also on the band. Another great band I played on was listed as Junie Cobb’s “Colonels of Corn.” The main reason this band was so great was that they were the very originals of JASS MUSIC. Junie was a multi-instrumentalist who on this band was playing Piano (he also recorded on Banjo). Al Wynn who had been the musical director for the great blues singer “Ma Rainey” was on Trombone and the wonderful Darnell Howard, who made terrific recordings with “Jelly Roll Morton,” was on Clarinet. We were playing at the Sabre Room and I was 17 (maybe 16) years old. I was a member of the last Jabbo Smith “Rhythm Aces” in New York City in the 1970’s.

Well, I could go on and on, but I’ll just say that the band “Wild Reeds and Wicked Rhythm” which I had for four or five years at the “Cajun Restaurant” on 16th Street and 8th Avenue in Manhattan was the thrill of my life. With the GREAT Scott Robinson and Orange Kellin on Reeds and Debbie Kennedy on Bass and MY BROTHER from a another mother — Conal Fowkes — was on Piano (he knows what I’m going to do before I do it and fits me like a glove). These were perhaps the most satisfying Musical Evenings I’ve ever known.

Scott Robinson is easily the best (for me) musical mind and player I’ve ever been in the presents of. I couldn’t come up with enough words to express my JOY with this band for those several years we performed every Wednesday night at the Cajun Restaurant in the great town of Manhattan.

We had two great subs on the night of this video. Dmitri Kolesnikov was on bass and on saxophone, the truly wonderful “The Hat” Michael Hashim.

Mr. Steinman, I would like to thank you so very much for supplying these videos and if you or anyone else has any other footage of any combination of this band, it would please me to no end to know of it.

The Banjoist Eddy “The Manhattan Minstrel” Davis

SWING THAT MUSIC:

WHO WALKS IN WHEN I WALK OUT? / HAPPY BIRTHDAY / I’LL SEE YOU IN MY DREAMS:

AFTER YOU’VE GONE / OLD BONES / YOU TOOK ADVANTAGE OF ME / TROUBLE IN MIND, all with vocals by Bob Ringwald:

BLACK BEAUTY / SWEET MAMA (vocal Eddy) / THE CASTLE RENOVATED:

THE CASTLE, concluded (with apologies to Dmitri):

DAPHNE / MY FRIEND (vocal / composition by Conal) / TOO MANY IRONS IN THE FIRE (Conal):

This band was — without exaggeration — a doctoral seminar in ensemble playing and collective momentum.  It was an honor to be there, and a greater honor to be able to share these videos with you.  And this was a complete evening at the Cajun, just under two hours of live performance.  It is as close as any of us will get to that deeply-remembered and now-departed experience.

Debbie Kennedy, the wonderful bassist, Eddy’s dear friend (I think she’d also call herself a student at the University of Davis) has written lovingly about Eddy, and I present her words here:

Eddy was one of the most amazing musicians I ever met in my entire life. SUCH a character with a fierce love of music. One of the best bandleaders I’ve ever played with. I just hope that his passing was painless and that his transition was smooth.

Apart from all the incredible happiness/joy that I experienced from playing with Eddy every Wednesday night at the “Cajun” restaurant from 2000 to 2006 in an extremely special band, I lucked out in 2008 and won a Greencard in the “Greencard Lottery.” Part of that process was that the immigration authorities needed a “Letter of Employment” showing that I would be earning a certain amount of money every year (even though I’d already been living in NYC for 10 years and earned enough to support myself comfortably, I guess they wanted to see that I would be self sufficient and not claim welfare).

Eddy very kindly wrote that Letter of Employment for me, stating that I was working with Woody Allen’s band (which was the truth – I had subbed frequently with the band starting October 2004, but I still wasn’t yet playing on a weekly basis when he wrote it). I strongly feel that his letter (especially with the name “Woody Allen”) clinched the decision for my Greencard to be granted.
Thank you Eddy!!

Then, eventually, he was kind enough to have me on the gig with Woody every week, starting a few years ago. It was actually Greg Cohen’s gig, but Greg moved to Berlin at a certain point around 2011 / 2012, so I did end up playing the gig on a weekly basis at that time, when Greg moved to Berlin.

This was an absolutely invaluable experience and was the gig that kept me alive when so many other freelance gigs had dwindled in recent years.

I feel incredibly indebted to Eddy and I feel blessed to have had such regular playing with him for so many years: Giving me the steady gig at the Cajun in 2000, and when that finished in August 2006, I still played with him pretty regularly, culminating in playing every week with him in the Woody band right up until last month.

March 9th was our last gig.

Like some others who knew Eddy well, I thought he was invincible and thought he was going to pull through this – he’d pulled through so many other illnesses before: terrible car accident, shingles, hellish Sciatica, High Cholesterol, high blood pressure, Diabetes…you name it, he’d had it (and he loved to tell you all about it, ha, ha! 😉).

Nothing will equal the pure joy that I felt on such a deep level when we were in the middle of playing a tune, him horsing around, having a great ol’ time.

Rest In Peace, my beautiful friend ❤️ ❤️ ❤️

Eddy loved what I will call “false endings,” where the band appeared to have concluded the song and the performance — and the audience would applaud — but, no, they weren’t through as he would (grinning hugely) launch into a bravura ending that left us cheering.

I think of those “false endings” as a metaphor for Eddy and his art. He appears to have gone, but he hasn’t.  As long as we can hear him, see him in videos (and he left us hundreds of solo performances from his apartment), and remember him, he ain’t gone.

Incidentally, I have been posting Barbara Rosene’s painting of The Cajun because it pleases me so — Debbie Kennedy is in it as well as Eddy, Scott Robinson, and Simon Wettenhall — but Barbara has done many other paintings of jazz clubs, landscapes, and abstracts — that are not yet in private collections.  And you know me: I only promote artists (visual as well as musical) whose work I love: find out more here.

May your happiness increase!


EDDY DAVIS, PRESENT TENSE (1940-2020), Part Four — “WILD REEDS AND WICKED RHYTHM” AT THE EAR INN with SCOTT ROBINSON, ORANGE KELLIN, CONAL FOWKES, DAN BLOCK, PETE ANDERSON

Eddy Davis at ScienSonic Laboratories

I’ve asked musicians who worked with Eddy and thus knew him better to write their loving recollections.  But I will indulge myself here for a few sentences.  Eddy always acted glad to see me, and he was happy to have his performances captured on film, but I am not sure he knew what to make of me (a reaction he was not alone in) so we never had a long conversation until the last time I saw him — where he enthusiastically spoke with great energy about the musicians he had played with when he was sixteen or seventeen.  I was amazed and delighted and pursued him with the idea of doing a video interview, but — for all sorts of reasons I can only guess at — he was silent about the idea, which I regret greatly.  At least he wrote some of it down on a letter to me which I will share in Part Five — but, ever the well-brought up Midwesterner, he addressed me as “Mr. Steinman,” curiously formal.

He was remarkable to me because of his indefatigable energy.  He electrified any group that had the good fortune to have him at the center.  He was genuinely a joyous sparkplug. The other people on the stand felt it, as did we.  He bounced; he rocked; he was having a lovely time and wanted to make sure we did also.  Eddy was a complete showman, but it felt completely honest.  And his unpredictability was charming in startling ways.  I never knew what he was going to do, and that was such a pleasure — anticipating the next brightly wrapped package and then savoring its contents.

His command of harmony was lovely; he knew where he was going and genially took everyone along with him.  His solid rhythm was never mechanical, and in some ways his banjo artistry redeemed every caustic thing said about that stringed instrument; he was flexible and elastic and I imagine I hear the whole history of jazz and popular music in his playing.  And that history — made current and shiny — came through in his incredibly broad repertoire: Doc Cooke and early Ellington, Django and Jerry Herman, his own lyrics to jazz classics.

He gave of himself with such deep generosity.  And although each of us is unique, few of us can embody that idea so joyously.

May your happiness increase!