Someone asked me last week why I wore a Louis Armstrong button, and without thinking, I said, “He taught me how to live my life,” which I was proud of saying. I know that CABARET was written by Kander and Ebb, but I encourage you to take three minutes or so and listen — I mean listen — to Louis’s 1966 version (the one with strings).
That song, and Louis’ performance of it, has a special relevance for me at this moment. Friends and family are devoting their energies to being afraid of the Coronavirus. I hear of their buying masks and hand sterilizer, stocking up on food and water for when “the lockdown” comes, restricting their travel. I can hear their voices over the phone, trying to mask their frightened disapproval, when I say I am getting on a plane in perhaps ninety hours to fly to Monterey for the Jazz Bash by the Bay, which begins March 5. “You’re getting on a plane, Michael? Well, be careful not to to touch your face. You could wear a pair of gloves . . . ”
Their caution might be well-founded. I could contract the virus, it could turn into pneumonia, I could die. Or, I could get hit by a Range Rover as I cross the street, even when I have the light in my favor. I’m not being facetious. And I hear the voices of my loving over-cautious parents, “Be careful. Be careful!”
But the opposite of Fear is Courage, and Courage has as its reward Joy. If I stay home, I won’t hear these fellows play and sing:
So I’m on my way to Monterey on Thursday morning, and here‘s the schedule, a wondrous hot-jazz version of Ceres’ cornucopia. You pick: stay at home with those books you’ve been promising yourself to read, and perhaps some takeout as a treat, or venture forth with plans to live joyously. (I know some of you can’t fly to Monterey, but adapt my encouragements to your own neighborhood.)
Like many other listeners, I knew Jane Harvey as a wonderful singer with a singular voice (its charm immediately apparent) beginning with her 1945 recordings with Benny Goodman, later ones with Zoot Sims and Dick Wellstood, among others. Although Jane first recorded as a very young woman in the Swing Era, she is active and vibrant — appearing at Feinstein’s in New York City less than a year ago and continuing to perform. Here she is, appearing in 1988 with Jane Pauley on the Today Show — singing a medley of Stephen Sondheim classics with delicacy and emotional power:
and on a V-Disc with BG, showing off her beautiful voice and innate swing:
Jane’s recordings have never been that easy to find, so it was a delightful surprise to learn of five new compact discs devoted to her — including much music that no one had heard before. This bonanza isn’t a box set — not one of those unwieldy and often costly artifacts that we crave and then don’t always listen to. And it has the even nicer fact of not being posthumous! The CDs can be purchased individually (at surprisingly low prices at Amazon).
Here’s the first. Originally issued in 1988 by Atlantic, this disc originally featured Jane in an intimate setting with Mike Renzi, Jay Leonhart, and Grady Tate. In an attempt to reach a wider audience, Atlantic added a large string orchestra, overdubbed. The CD issue presents the music as originally recorded, with a new version of SEND IN THE CLOWNS.
This CD finds Jane in front of Ray Ellis’ large string orchestra (which works) for a collection ranging from the familiar (MY SHIP) to old favorites refreshed (THE GLORY OF LOVE) to the little-known title tune, with music by Moose Charlap, Bill’s father:
LADY JAZZ presents Jane amidst jazz players, including Doc Cheatham, Bucky Pizzarelli, John Bunch, Gene Bertoncini, Richard Davis, Bill Goodwin, Don Elliott (a session originally supervised by Albert McCarthy for English RCA), as well as six performances from Jane’s time with Goodman, two songs with Zoot Sims, Kenny Davern, and Dick Wellstood, and a duet of SOME OTHER TIME and THIS TIME THE DREAM’S ON ME with Mike Renzi:
TRAVELIN’ LIGHT has been even more obscure, not for any musical reasons — an album originally recorded for Dot in 1960 which pairs Jane with the Jack Kane Orchestra. Eight bonus tracks show Jane off in front of orchestras conducted by Billy Strayhorn and others or the Page Cavanaugh trio:
THE UNDISCOVERED JANE HARVEY might have been the title for any of the preceding discs, but it truly fits the final one. When a disc begins with two performances where Jane is backed by the Duke Ellington orchestra — Strayhorn on piano and Ellington talking in the control booth — listeners are in a magical place. Other performances on this disc have Jane paired with Les Paul, Ellis Larkins (an eight-minute Arlen-Koehler medley), and larger studio orchestras:
The five CDs have been lovingly produced — with Jane’s help — by her friend, publicist, and booking manager Alan Eichler. They feature enthusiastic liner notes by Will Friedwald, Nat Shapiro, Albert McCarthy, Nat Hentoff, and James Gavin.
The time is always right for Jane Harvey. Her energy, jazz feeling, and empathy are undimmed. Her voice is a pleasure to listen to; she honors the melodies, and she deeply understands the lyrics: no pretense, no overacting. The Amazon link to the CDs can be found here.
And for any other matters pertaining to Miss Harvey, please contact Alan Eichler at aeichler@earthlink.com.
If you remember Jane only as the lovely voice on the 1945 Goodman red-label Columbia version of HE’S FUNNY THAT WAY . . . or if you’ve seen her in more recent times, you’ll find these new issues full of pleasures.
