Tag Archives: California Ramblers

WHERE THE WILD ARCANA GROWS: ANDY SCHUMM and his GANG at GRUMPY’S in DAVENPORT, IOWA (Set Two, August 1, 2018)

Many jazz bands that identify themselves as steeped in Twenties Hot are devoted to the Ancestors and the irreplaceable recordings, but have reduced their  repertoire to a dozen-plus familiar songs: DIPPERMOUTH BLUES, SINGIN’ THE BLUES, TIN ROOF BLUES, THAT’S A-PLENTY, ROYAL GARDEN BLUES, STRUTTIN’ WITH SOME BARBECUE, and so on.  Those songs achieved classic status for good reason, but they quickly come to feel like the same Caesar salad.  (“Mainstream” groups do the same thing with PENNIES FROM HEAVEN, ALL OF ME, SUNNY SIDE OF THE STREET . . . continuing forward to GROOVIN’ HIGH and the bop -OLOGIES also.)

But the noble and flourishing Andy Schumm is not only a marvelous multi-instrumentalist (on this session, cornet, clarinet, tenor saxophone, “Reserphone,” and one voice in the glee club) but a truly diligent researcher — coming up with hot tunes and lyrical songs that rarely — or never — get performed.  At the end of the video presented here, you should observe the thickness of manuscript that he picks up off his music stand, and when he announces the next tune to the band by number as well as title, the numbers are notably three digits, suggesting a substantial “book.”

Andy and his Gang performed two wonderful sets of lively, “new” “old” material at the August 2018 Bix Beiderbecke Memorial Festival in Davenport, Iowa.  The Gang was a streamlined version of the Fat Babies, with Andy; John Otto, reeds; Johnny Donatowicz, banjo / guitar; Dave Bock, tuba, and guest star David Boeddinghaus, piano.  All of this good music was beautifully preserved for us by “Chris and Chris,” whose generosities you know or should know.  My posting of the first set is here.

As far as arcana is concerned, here are the songs performed: CUSHION FOOT STOMP (Clarence Williams), EL RADO SCUFFLE (Jimmie Noone: supposedly the club was the ELDORADO but not all the letters in the sign were visible), AIN’T THAT HATEFUL? (Oliver Naylor), JUST LIKE A MELODY (a Walter Donaldson composition, one known in recent decades thanks to Scott Robinson’s recording of it), FLAG THAT TRAIN (watch out for the Reserphone), I MUST BE DREAMING (a sweet duet for John Otto and David Boeddinghaus), BEER GARDEN BLUES (Clarence Williams, with glee-club vocal; Williams also recorded this melody with different lyrics, perhaps called SWING, BROTHER, SWING, but not the Billie-Basie song), GRAVIER STREET BLUES (Clarence Williams again, his Jazz Kings — thanks to Phil Melnick for catching the title, something I didn’t recognize, which proves my point about arcana), CROSS ROADS (California Ramblers), WAILING BLUES (thanks to Cellar Boys Wingy, Tesch, Bud, and Frank Melrose), an impish Boeddinghaus chorus of WE’RE IN THE MONEY, perhaps a satiric reference to the undernourished tip jar? — and closing with a wild SAN in honor of Jimmie Noone’s Apex Club Orchestra.

Thanks to Andy, John, John, Dave, Dave, and Chris and Chris.  (I see a pattern here, don’t you?)

“Chris and Chris” at the 2015 Steamboat Stomp in New Orleans. Photograph by Bess Wade.

May your happiness increase!

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MORE HOT JAZZ IN THE GARDEN OF EDEN (Part Three): THE NEW WONDERS (MIKE DAVIS, JOE McDONOUGH, RICKY ALEXANDER, JARED ENGEL, JAY RATTMAN, JAY LEPLEY): AUGUST 20, 2017

The days are getting shorter, darker, and cooler.  There’s little that I can do to combat this, but I offer this third part of a glorious August afternoon as a palliative for the descent into winter.

Thanks to the energetic Brice Moss, I was able to attend and record a lovely outdoor session featuring The New Wonders — Mike Davis, cornet, vocal, arrangements; Jay Lepley, drums; Jay Rattman, bass saxophone and miscellaneous instrument; Joe McDonough, trombone, Ricky Alexander, reeds; Jared Engel, plectrum banjo.  There’s group singing here and there, which is its own idiomatic delight.  This is the third of three posts: here is part one, and here is part two — both segments full of wondrous hot music.

And now . . . . a Hot one in Hot slow-motion, no less steamy — NOBODY’S SWEETHEART:

Did someone say “The Chicago Loopers”?  Here’s CLORINDA, with vocal quartet:

A serious question for sure, ARE YOU SORRY?

Another paean to the South from songwriters who may have gone no deeper than Battery Park, THAT’S THE GOOD OLD SUNNY SOUTH:

We’d like it to be a valid economic policy — THE BEST THINGS IN LIFE ARE FREE:

DEEP BLUE SEA BLUES, with a surprising double for Jay Rattman:

Who needs an umbrella?  I’M WALKING BETWEEN THE RAINDROPS:

and an emotional choice, I’D RATHER CRY OVER YOU:

Deep thanks, as before, to Brice, family, friends, and to these splendid musicians, for making an Edenic idea come to life.

And I don’t have the delicious artifact yet, but The New Wonders did and have finished their debut CD.  I am willing to wager that it will live up to the band name.  Details as I know them.

May your happiness increase!

MORE HOT JAZZ IN THE GARDEN OF EDEN (Part Two): THE NEW WONDERS (MIKE DAVIS, JOE McDONOUGH, RICKY ALEXANDER, JARED ENGEL, JAY RATTMAN, JAY LEPLEY): AUGUST 20, 2017

On August 20, 2017, there was a return to Eden.  It didn’t make the papers, possibly because social media wasn’t attuned to hot jazz in bucolic settings (Brice Moss’s backyard in Croton-on-Hudson) but it still felt Edenic, thanks to the New Wonders (Mike Davis, Jared Engel, Jay Lepley, Joe McDonough, Ricky Alexander, and Jay Rattman) and thanks to generous fervent Brice, of course, and Anne, Aubrey, Odysseus, Liana, Ana, and Chester.

This is the second part of the great revelation: the first part is here.  I urge you to visit that first part — not only to hear more splendid music in the most welcoming surroundings, but to read the enthusiastic words Brice has written about this band.  And the proof is in every performance by the New Wonders.

AIN’T THAT A GRAND AND GLORIOUS FEELING, courtesy of Annette Hanshaw:

Tiny Parham’s JUNGLE CRAWL:

A very successful experiment.  The pretty LOVE WILL FIND A WAY, by Noble Sissle and Eubie Blake (from SHUFFLE ALONG) reimagined as if Bix and His Gang had performed it:

Not a suggestion, but a command: SMILE, DARN YA, SMILE:

And a serious request: I NEED LOVIN’:

For Red, Miff, and Fud: HURRICANE:

What they used to call Orientalia, PERSIAN RUG, with a completely charming vocal from Mike:

There will be a Part Three, joyously.  Have no fear.  And soon, I am told, the New Wonders’ debut CD will appear.

May your happiness increase!

HOT JAZZ IN THE GARDEN OF EDEN (Part One): THE NEW WONDERS (MIKE DAVIS, JOE McDONOUGH, RICKY ALEXANDER, JARED ENGEL, JAY RATTMAN, JAY LEPLEY): AUGUST 20, 2017

Some people make great art happen without ever picking up an instrument, and Brice Moss is one of them.  I first met him at a concert of Mike Davis’ band, The New Wonders, in downtown Manhattan, about eighteen months ago.

Brice is very friendly and articulate, tall and beautifully dressed, but what’s more important is that he is a card-carrying Enthusiast for Twenties hot jazz.  And although he loves the recordings and lives to go see and hear the best hot bands, he does more than that.  Evidence below.

A Brice Moss lawn party, a few years back, with Vince Giordano, Andy Stein, Evan Arntzen, Jon-Erik Kellso, Harvey Tibbs, and Ken Salvo.

Brice gives yearly lawn parties where his favorite bands play.  I asked him to say something about his generosity-in-action, and he wrote, “I work in social service, in the not-for profit sector, so even with saving up, I can only do these every year or so.  I can think of no more joy-inducing way to spend my meager dough than by hiring the world class musicians we are lucky to have in our vicinity.  As does everyone else, I love the Nighthawks, whom my parents saw weekly since the seventies.

I am smitten by Mike Davis and his guys too.  Mike always sings the lyrics, often including introductory verses I had never heard before.  They do wonderful vocal harmonies.  They are intimate, understated, true to the period and despite differences of instrumentation, very true to the original recordings of the tunes. Pure delight!  This is the fourth time I’ve been lucky enough to be able to bring a band up.  Last year was Mike and The New Wonders as well. The summer before that was a subset of the Nighthawks.  I have also, a couple of years back, had a New Year’s Eve party where I was fortunate to have Vince, Peter Mintun, Mark Lopeman, Bill Crow, and Andy Stein.”

So this summer, when Brice invited me to come up to his lawn party (at a location alternatively identified as Croton-on-Hudson, Yorktown Heights, or Ossining — depending on the whims of your GPS) I was eager, especially when he said the band would not object if I brought my camera.  I thus had the odd and splendid experience of being able to hear and see hot jazz out-of-doors in the most gorgeous pastoral setting.  I also got to meet Brice’s quite delightful family: his mother Anne; son Odysseus; his daughter Aubrey; his sister Liana.  In addition, I got to chat again with Ana Quintana, and petted the New Wonders’ mascot, Chester.

And there was glorious music by Mike Davis, cornet and vocal; Jay Lepley, drums; Jared Engel, banjo; Jay Rattman, bass sax and miscellaneous instrument; Ricky Alexander, reeds; Joe McDonough, trombone.  (Mike also sings splendidly — earnestly but loosely — on many tracks, and there’s also band vocals and band banter.)

The band takes its name from a particular line of instruments manufactured by the Conn people in the Twenties, and Mike plays a Conn New Wonder cornet.  The New Wonders stay pretty seriously in the Twenties, offering pop songs of the day, jazz classics — both transcribed and improvised on — and homages to Bix and Tram, Paul Whiteman, Cliff Edwards, the California Ramblers, Red Nichols and Miff Mole, and more.

A great deal of beautifully-played hot jazz was offered to us that August afternoon.  Here are the first seven tunes, one for each day of the week.

I GET THE BLUES WHEN IT RAINS (fortunately, this song title did not come true at Brice’s party):

THAT’S MY WEAKNESS NOW (with the verse and a second chorus and a third — how much music the New Wonders can, like their ancestors, pack into three minutes):

MY GAL SAL (thinking of the pride of Ogden, Utah):

CHICAGO:

ONE LITTLE KISS (their homage to Cliff Edwards and the Eton Boys, nobly done):

TAKE YOUR TOMORROW (thinking of Bix and Tram):

POOR PAPA:

There are two more lavishly Edenic segments to come.  Not blasphemous, just paradisical.

May your happiness increase!

“F’R INSTANCE”: DANCE WITH JACK PURVIS, SMITH BALLEW, and PAULETTE GODDARD

I know it’s an unlikely trio.  But permit me and “Atticus70” some small poetic license.  His YouTube channel — intoxicating in so many ways — is Atticus70.

These two 78 sides, lovingly restored, present more music by trumpeter Jack Purvis and his expert colleagues: Purvis, t / Bobby Davis, Pete Pumiglio, cl, as;  Sam Ruby, ts;  probably Sid Harris, Joe LaFaro, Al Duffy, vn; Jack Russin, p; Tommy Felline, g;  Ward Lay, sb; Stan King, d; Smith Ballew and two others, v. New York, June 12, 1930.

I can’t decide whether F’R INSTANCE is a frail example of the “conditional love song”: IF I were to say these words, how would you take them — passionate love songs for timid wooers — or if it has its own charm. It does seem to borrow so much from the Paul Denniker – Andy Razaf S’POSIN, doesn’t it?

About Paulette Goddard I will only say that we see why Chaplin fell for her, and that those photos (continued below) show that her beauty shone through no matter what the setting.

Here is the “hotter” side — giving Purvis more space — I LOVE YOU SO MUCH:

A few more words about Purvis.  Were you to take all the stories about him to heart, he seems a truly unbalanced figure: someone without the internal signal to say, “That’s a bad idea,” or “That’s wrong: leave it alone!”  Liar, kleptomaniac, someone unwilling to distinguish between your property and his.  Purvis as a larger-than-life mythic figure seems outlandishly charming now precisely because we are far away from him; there is no chance to Jack will rise from the grave to swindle us at the supermarket.  But these two 78 sides show us a player perfectly in command of his instrument, absolutely masterful in the sound, attack, and tonality he gets — one couldn’t be a madman, out of control, in the recording studios . . . and it’s clear that Purvis is more than the pathological personality he’s been depicted as — someone able to convey great sweetness through those unforgiving coils of brass.  Listen closely again to the winsome, pleading sound he gets from his trumpet: it’s a marvel.

For those who want to hear more of Jack and read about his exploits, this is the only place: a masterpiece of research and music: the Jazz Oracle three-disc set devoted to him: http://www.jazzoracle.com/

Another postscript: ten years ago I would have been somewhat impatient with the general sweet-band aura of both of these sides. I would have looked at my watch, waiting for the moment when the Hot Man blasted his way out of the sweetness for eight or sixteen bars.  I haven’t changed so radically as to start an Eddy Duchin collection, but it takes just as much integrity and control to make pretty sounds as it does hot ones.  In an interview with Ruby Braff, the interviewer spoke slightingly of the least-jazzlike band he could think of, which happened to be Sammy Kaye.  Ruby, characteristically, spoke his mind: “If I had Sammy Kaye here I would kiss him.  You had to be a MUSICIAN to play in one of those bands!”  Everyone on the sides above, including Smith Ballew, was a MUSICIAN — and is there higher praise?

WE LIVE IN HOPE (WITH RECORDS)

Whenever we go into an antique store, thrift store, Goodwill or the like, I hope that there is a pile of records.  Most often the results are drab: the Dean Martin Christmas Record, the Hollyridge Strings Play (fill in the blank), 12″ disco hits.  When there are albums of 78 rpm records, often they are middle-of-the-road classical sets, early Fifties red-label Columbias and Deccas.  Something like a sunburst Decca Bing Crosby or a canary-training record is a bombshell in the midst of this assortment.

Who knew that the wine country and environs in Northern California would be so full of possibilities?

Mind you, no Gennetts or Paramounts; nary a Steiner-Davis in the lot.  But I want to report two successful treasure hunts.  (An older generation used to call this “junking,” but somehow the name — to me — suggests pawing through piles of trash.

Here are the gems (ninety-nine cents each plus tax) from a visit last night to the Goodwill in Petaluma, out of a plastic crate full of 78s that, for the most part, were either pre-electric or postwar pop.

The first one:

All I know about this is that “Ed Blossom and His New Englanders” is a pseudonym for the California Ramblers, and from the issue number I would date it as late 1928.  The other side — a familiar tune — was more promising. (I left the sticker on for proof):

But when I looked online for more information (neither side appears in Tom Lord’s discography), this is what I found.  Different label but the same matrix number:

That’s a perfectly amiable dance record, neatly played — but for someone like myself waiting for Jack Purvis to make himself known in the next-to-last bridge, a bit of a letdown.  Still, it serves as a reminder of just how much we should value those hot interludes, because they didn’t appear at every session.

Here’s the second find, and although I have no idea of the accompaniment (again, no listing in Rust), I wasn’t disappointed.  This disc had been well-played, a tribute to its singer:

Not only a Lee Morse record, but one of her originals!  And here is the thing in itself: a fascinating exercise in history in reverse, or influence looking in a mirror.  On the second chorus, Miss Morse sounds like Tamar Korn; on the third, she anticipates Connee Boswell:

The flip side:

And it’s testimony to Miss Morse’s stardom that she was able to change the lyrics of this pop hit to be gender-appropriate, something few artists could do at the time.

We move forward to this afternoon and an antique store on Grant Avenue in Novato — SENTIMENTAL JOURNEY — where I purchased three of these marvels for two dollars each:

These are eight-inch home recording discs, with five of the six sides grooved — three of them divided in two.  None of the discs has any writing on the label, and the store did not have a three or four-speed phonograph, so I paid my money and live in hope — or in Emily Dickinson’s “Possibility.”  What are the odds that these discs contain recordings of a 1943 after-hours jam session?  Slim, I admit.  More likely they are someone playing LADY OF SPAIN or Grandpa’s speech to the Rotary Club.  (In past encounters, I’ve seen those discs — Sister Susie’s hymn recital.)  But one must take risks in this life . . . !

The prize that accompanied these discs was the paper sleeve for a ten-inch Recordio disc — it was also in the pile, but blank and with the coating eroding and cracking.  But you should know that RECORDIO DISCS were manufactured by Wilcox-Gay (of Charlotte, Michigan), and that they were ALUMINUM BASE, PROFESSIONAL QUALITY — meant FOR THOSE BETTER RECORDINGS.

“WILCOX-GAY offers a selection of 6 1/2″, 8″and 10″ sizes in RECORDIO DISCS for your recording needs. Aluminum base discs are manufactured to precision standards and are surfaced with a long-life, mirror-clear coating . . . combined with low surface noise this gives them preferred ratings on all markets.  Fibre base discs are the original RECORDIO DISCS, famous for their long life and excellent reproduction.  They are light, flexible and can be mailed without fear of damage.  Genuine RECORDIO DISCS in aluminum or fibre base can be obtained from your local RECORDIO dealer.  Always ask for them by name.”

“SUGGESTION     Your recordings will last longer if you always keep them in this envelope when not in use.  CAUTION    Do not place RECORDIO DISCS on furniture or any laminated surface.  Under some climactic conditions the dyes used in the manufacture of these discs will discolor certain surfaces.”

Recordiopoint curring and playback needles are the perfect companion for RECORDIO DISCS.  Always insist on Recordiopoint needles and RECORDIO DISCS for use with your Recordio.”

If there’s exciting news in a few weeks when I place these RECORDIO DISCS (they do demand all capital letters, don’t they?) on my phonograph, I will surely let the JAZZ LIVES readership know . . . we live in hope!

YOURS SWEETLY, JACK PURVIS

Trumpeter / composer Jack Purvis is known not only for his brilliant playing but for his incredibly strange adventures — suicide attempts, thefts, deceptions, impersonations befitting a Baron Munchausen.  A good deal of the Purvis saga suggests mental instability or someone with no discernable impulse control: if the woman you are infatuated with plays the harp, what could be wrong with smashing a plate glass window, stealing a harp, asking her for lessons, and then (when rebuffed) smashing the window again to return the harp to its display? 

These exploits — colorful reading now, probably deeply puzzling and irritating to all who knew Purvis — are recounted in the very detailed and entertaining booklet by Michael Brooks, part of the definitive Purvis set (three CDs) on the Jazz Oracle label. 

Purvis’ recorded performances often show a kind of nervous excitability — hot playing in the extreme, courageous leaping here and there with a quick vibrato, no mountain too high to scale. 

So it’s a surprise to once again come across a 1931 California Ramblers recording of the pretty Fats Waller song, CONCENTRATIN’ ON YOU (with funny, sweet lyrics) — recorded on other occasions  by Connee Boswell and Mildred Bailey — that has Purvis noted as the trumpet soloist.  This generosity is courtesy of the record collector and silent-film scholar “Atticus70” on YouTube:

The probable personnel is Chelsea Quealey, Jack Purvis, Fred van Eps Jr., trumpets; Carl Loeffler, trombone; Bobby Davis, clarinet, soprano saxophone, alto saxophone; Elmer Feldkamp, clarinet, alto, vocal; Joe Gillespie, clarinet, tenor;  Adrian Rollini, bass sax when used [and possibly chimes or vibraphone]; Jack Wechsler, violin; Lew Cobey, piano; Noel Kilgen, guitar;  Carl Smith, bass; Herb Weil, drums. New York, October 5, 1931.

Could it be that the recordin contractor told Purvis to behave himself and play sweetly, or was Jack deeply in one of his romantic infatuations?

Of course, if the trumpet work is by Chelsea Quealey, my theories go to the ocean bottom — but it’s a pretty dance record, no matter who’s playing what.