Category Archives: Awful Sad

“IT’S THE TALK OF THE TOWN”: DUKE HEITGER, DAN BLOCK, ROSSANO SPORTIELLO, ANDY BROWN, JOEL FORBES, PETE SIERS (Cleveland Classic Jazz Party, Sept. 14, 2017)

In his seriously masterful AMERICAN POPULAR SONG, Alec Wilder was unkind to “IT’S THE TALK OF THE TOWN,” calling it “nostalgic,” but adding that “its melody simply isn’t that good.”  Songs have feelings, too, and I disagree.  I’ve never been jilted at the altar (or a week before) but I always find the song touching and it works well as a ballad or in medium tempo.  In my mind’s ear I hear Joe Thomas playing and singing it, getting particularly impassioned in the last eight bars.  I wish he’d recorded a long vocal version.  And that Louis had done so also.

First, the song as a new pop hit, performed by the marvelously emotive Connie Boswell (sweet and then swung gently):

Coleman Hawkins with Fletcher Henderson, 1933:

and with Sir Charles Thompson, 1945:

and from this century — September 14, 2017 — at the Cleveland Classic Jazz Party, a version nicely balancing melancholy and swing, by Rossano Sportiello, piano; Pete Siers, drums; Joel Forbes, string bass; Andy Brown, guitar; Dan Block, clarinet; Duke Heitger, trumpet.  Keynote / Vanguard style, with split choruses, easy rocking lyricism, climbing to the stars:

May your happiness increase!

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IN MEMORY OF TOM BAKER, WHO DID ALL THINGS WELL

I now have an opportunity to share with you some wonderful videos of the amazing musician Tom Baker (1952-2001) who lives on.

Below is a picture of our benefactor and generous friend, Enrico Borsetti, who took a video camera to the 2000 Ascona Jazz Festival and recorded treasures — some of which I have already posted, featuring Dan Barrett, Jeff Hamilton, Ray Sherman, Jon-Erik Kellso, Brian Oglivie, John Smith, Eddie Erickson, Joel Forbes, and Rebecca Kilgore.

Another magnificent band, led by pianist / singer Keith Nichols, was called The Blue Rhythm Makers — and here on YouTube you can see two incarnations with different personnel.  The one I share today features the immensely talented and much-missed Tom Baker (trumpet, trombone, reeds, vocal, and more I am probably leaving out), my friend-heroes Matthias Seuffert, Martin Wheatley, Frans Sjostrom.

Here you can learn more / see more about Tom, who made the transition at 49.

Here’s Tom’s very touching reading of ANNIE LAURIE, which I think unforgettable, especially thinking of such a brilliant man who is no longer with us:

and a searing I KNOW THAT YOU KNOW:

and a radiant version of Benny Carter’s ONCE UPON A TIME:

Since I believe that “the dead” KNOW, I send tears and reverent admiration to Tom Baker.  And let us not forget the living, to whom I send gratitude.

May your happiness increase!

“OF THINGS PAST”: JIMMY KNEPPER, DICK KATZ, GEORGE MRAZ, MEL LEWIS (1986)

This doesn’t require much commentary: it is a gorgeously tender themeless improvisation on THESE FOOLISH THINGS by Jimmy Knepper, trombone; Dick Katz, piano; George Mraz, string bass; Mel Lewis, drums.

Knepper began his recording career with big bands, so playing ballads was part of the training, since one played for dancers.  And if you’ve never heard of him, I invite you to be uplifted by calm, searching music that is at once melancholy and uplifting.

I hope you are as moved by this as I am.

May your happiness increase!

WITH TENDERNESS: THEN, NOW, SOON (JOEL FORRESTER, VITO DIETERLE, MATT GARRITY, DAVE HOFSTRA)

JOEL FORRESTER, photograph by Metin Oner

Some more music from my hero Joel Forrester, captured live at Cleopatra’s Needle on August 3, 2017, which is the THEN of the title.  Joel brought with him Vito Dieterle, tenor saxophone; Dave Hofstra, string bass; Matt Garrity, drums (and other noble participants, their identities to be revealed in future JAZZ LIVES’ posts).

Two selections struck me most strongly as wordless evocations of tenderness, overlaid with grief.  The first, YOUR LITTLE DOG, Joel’s elegy for a beloved pet, is incomplete: I arrived late to this Musical Offering and the quartet was taking its leisurely melancholy route through this composition, one of Joel’s that is most dear to me. Here is the closing minute.  I wish I’d arrived earlier, but this minute-plus remains emotionally powerful:

Later in the evening, Joel and the quartet offered a slow ballad, ABOUT FRANCOISE, which has much of the same mood:

I’ve lingered over these two performances because they present a sound, a mood, a tempo that I don’t always encounter, in a world where some musicians feel pressured to be brighter, quicker, more attention-getting.  Joel and friends know that music that mourns can also elate and uplift, and I hope you feel those emotions here.

That was THEN, as they say.  The NOW is, of course, the minutes you are spending absorbing the sounds.

SOON is not yet here as I write this, but it will come  . . .  you know the rest.

Joel, Vito, and Dave have a new trio gig in Riverdale, New York, this coming Sunday, which is September 10, from 3 to 7 PM, at MON AMOUR, a coffee-and-wine cafe at 234 West 238th Street, two doors to the east of Broadway.  Take the #1 train to 238 (its penultimate station stop) and you are THERE. No cover or music charge. 

And Joel has promised me a full version of YOUR LITTLE DOG for my camera and my audience.  You could spend Sunday afternoon searching for your autumn-winter wardrobe, but that can wait a few days.

Something relevant and perhaps not coincidental: I am reading with great pleasure OPEN CITY, the 2011 debut novel by Teju Cole — the book a gift from tenor saxophonist Sam Taylor, and after beginning this blog, I had to leave my computer but could take the book with me.  The narrator says, early on, of a younger friend in his neighborhood, “My friend was especially passionate about jazz. Most of the names and styles that he so delighted in meant little to me (there are apparently number of great jazz musicians from the sixties and seventies with the last name Jones).  But I could sense, even from my ignorant distance, the sophistication of his ear.  He often said that he would sit down at a piano someday and show me how jazz worked, and that when I finally understood blue notes and swung notes, the heavens would part and my life would be transformed.  I more than half believed him . . . ” (24-25).

Cole’s words echo Forrester’s “tunes.”

May your happiness increase!

GLIMPSES OF MISS WILEY and COLLEAGUES (1934-1953)

A small pleasure. seen on eBay.

Here’s what it sounds like:

The facts are: Lee Wiley, vocal; Sterling Bose, Tommy Dorsey, Sid Stoneburn, others; Ernie White, Larry Gomar,  Justin Ring or Victor Young, directing. New York, August 13, 1934 38298-B.

And nearly twenty years later:

Lee’s voice had changed, predictably, as had the band, but I like the new, tougher approach just as much.

We enter the magical world of sheet music covers.  This song is familiar, with the distinct connection to Victor Young — with whom Lee enjoyed a long relationship.  I reprint the cover for comparison:

Although I can’t offer a recording of Lee singing LOVE ME, how about two versions by Jack Teagarden — the first with ornamentation by Sterling Bose, Jimmy Dorsey, Perry Botkin — again directed by Victor Young?  I knew you wouldn’t object:

This is, again, twenty years later, swinging as well as romantic — from the sextet that Jack led after he’d left Louis Armstrong’s All-Stars.  This 1953 band was a family affair, with brother Charlie on trumpet, sister Norma on piano:

Back to Lee.

This piece of sheet music is new to me, and I haven’t found any recordings of the song to offer you:

This song is known to me because Red Allen recorded it at the time, but no recording of Lee singing it exists.  Still, it’s pleasant to hear her voice in one’s mental recording studio:

and, in case you’ve never seen it, here is the justly famous film — silent but with a soundtrack added later, both thanks to Josh Rushton — of Lee and then-husband Jess Stacy, out and about.

May your happiness increase!

“SO THEY TELL ME”: JON-ERIK KELLSO and EHUD ASHERIE at ROTH’S STEAKHOUSE (June 24, 2008)

A decade ago, I became an intermittent denizen of the Upper West Side of Manhattan for the best reasons.  Although that period of my life has ended, for all things change and shift, I remember those days and nights with fondness.

One of the pleasures for an even more brief period was hearing music at Roth’s Steakhouse on Columbus Avenue in the Nineties.  It closed sometime after 2010, so I can now say that the food was indifferent.  But the music was sublime.  Here is a tender musical souvenir of days gone by — but not days beyond recall.  It is a leisurely yet rhythmic exploration of Irving Berlin’s ballad from ANNIE GET YOUR GUN, a sentiment few would deny, THEY SAY IT’S WONDERFUL — performed by two musical romantics who also like their romance to move along at the right tempo, Jon-Erik Kellso and Ehud Asherie, brass and piano, respectively.

In his very admiring chapter on Mr. Berlin in AMERICAN POPULAR SONG, Alec Wilder says nothing about THEY SAY IT’S WONDERFUL, but I will fill in for him for one sentence.  Originally, the music for ANNIE GET YOUR GUN was to be composed by Jerome Kern, who died suddenly before he could create the score; I hear faint tracings of Kern in Berlin’s arching melody line, especially evident if one plays or sings the song as a very slow ballad.

Here, Jon-Erik and Ehud create their own world in praise of love not yet realized or never forgotten:

I’ve left the end of the video intact — with the waitperson pushing the specials on hopeful diners — to add to the Rothian ambiance.  Another place where one could dine on extraordinary music, gone, but the sounds remain.

May your happiness increase!

THE WORLD IS MAD

Count Basie and his Orchestra recorded this fast blues, two sides of a 78, on August 8, 1940.  They had good reasons for that title: look up the date in a history of the Second World War and you bang into the Luftwaffe and the Battle of Britain, its thirtieth day.

And if you’d want other evidence of cosmic distress, Johnny Dodds died on that day, age 48.  (How come no one writes about him as short-lived, one of jazz’s early deaths?)

But here’s Basie.

Part One, with that glorious rhythm section, Buddy Tate, the trombone section featuring the under-featured Vic Dickenson, the saxophone section leading in to Lester Young (with Jo Jones commenting behind him):

Part Two (with apologies for the intrusive advertisement) with a little more Lester, Walter Page and that rhythm section, then riffing alongside a very explicit Jo Jones, more from Walter, Lester out in the open over stop-time chords, trumpet section hosannas, more Jo . . . . and a s low-motion ending:

I write this post — oddly enough — with only a tangential although reverent nod to Basie.  If you are a sentient informed adult, you might think at many points during your day that, yes, the world IS mad.  If you think everything is just peachy, I envy you your sweet oblivion.

For me, Basie’s title is correct but one consonant is off.  I propose, rather, THE WORLD IS SAD.  Thanks to Matt Munisteri, I read this article this morning:

https://www.theatlantic.com/magazine/archive/2017/09/has-the-smartphone-destroyed-a-generation/534198/?utm_source=nextdraft&utm_medium=email

It is terrible, and terribly worth reading.  The answer to the rhetorical question posed by the title is YES.  Now, it would be easy to shake our heads at “those dopey kids and their phones,” and since I have taught 17-21 year olds for decades, I know the difference between THEN (pre-phone) and NOW — the article says that 2012 was the tipping point, when more than fifty percent owned a smartphone.  I see the manifestations as attention deficit disorder, inability to concentrate, unwillingness to have what we used to think of as normal social contact (i.e., speaking to the person next to you), a world shrunk down into a tiny bright screen.  What the article says that is new and saddening is that the young people who are addicted to their phones are not only socially crippled and terminally insular, but that they are depressed and world-weary: weary of a world they don’t care to engage in.

And I see the manifestations in my generation: the couple at dinner who are silently staring into their phones; the couple I once saw on the subway, all snuggly, she half-asleep on her handsome Beau, who took the opportunity to scroll down and see what had happened in the four minutes he’s been away.

I wonder where this willful isolation will lead us as a culture.  The smartphone world is the complete antithesis to dancing to Basie, listening to Basie on the radio, playing your new Vocalion 78 for your pals, or even (heaven forbid) learning a musical instrument and starting a band.

At one point, when cellphones were new, I said whimsically to a friend that I wanted them to be prohibitively expensive, with certain exceptions: you could call and say, “I’m going to be late,” “I miss you,” “I love you,” “Is there anything you wanted me to pick up on the way home,” “You don’t sound right.  Is everything OK?” — those calls would be free OR the provider would pay you for making them.  Now I think that my whimsy was too tame.  I’d like to see people’s smartphones self-destruct if they took them out in the middle of a conversation. I’d like to see smartphone use socially relegated to private places, in the same way that flatulence, onanism, and inside-the-nose interior decorating are (among those who have some tact).

It won’t happen, but now when I go back to teaching in September, I will get to add another toxic side-effect to the smartphone’s power, not just boredom, inertia, narrowness — but despair.  Who would have thought?

I’m a relic, so I seek the company of other people rather than my phone.  Human contact — with the right people — is my joy.  But don’t tell anyone.  I don’t want the authorities to arrest me for rampant archaism.

May your happiness increase!