Tag Archives: Dr. Jazz

THE ADVENTURES OF BUCK and BUSTER

It sounds like a children’s cartoon: Buck is always getting into trouble but his friend Buster rescues him, then Buck’s mom makes them both little pizzas.

Not really.

It’s a series of “Doctor Jazz” radio broadcasts from late 1951, turning the corner into 1952, featuring Buck Clayton, trumpet; Buster Bailey, clarinet, and other complete professionals.

Some of this material has appeared on now difficult-to-find Storyville CDs, but those discs do not present complete shows.

The details: “Dr. Jazz” WMGM broadcasts from Lou Terrasi’s, New York City. Buck Clayton, trumpet; Buster Bailey, clarinet; Herb Flemming, trombone; Kenny Kersey, piano; Joe Shulman, string bass; Arthur Herbert, drums.

December 27, 1951: THEME / ROYAL GARDEN BLUES / MY GAL SAL / BOOGIE WOOGIE COCKTAIL (Kersey) / MY HONEY’S LOVIN’ ARMS //

Interlude from the Stuyvesant Casino, December 28, 1952: SWEET SUE Bobby Hackett, Dick Cary (alto horn), unid. trombone, Gene Sedric, Red Richards, unid. drums.

December 13, 1951, from Terrasi’s: THEME / FIDGETY FEET / I’LL ALWAYS BE IN LOVE WITH YOU / STRUTTIN’ WITH SOME BARBECUE / THE MOON IS LOW //

December 20, 1951: ‘DEED I DO / BALLIN’ THE JACK / JINGLE BELLS / MAHOGANY HALL STOMP / HIGH SOCIETY //

January 3, 1952: THEME / THAT’S A PLENTY / CLARINET MARMALADE / THIS CAN’T BE LOVE / BILL BAILEY / EVERYBODY LOVES MY BABY / THEME //

You will of course notice the serious reliance on “Dixieland” repertoire, but how beautifully and energetically this band plays it (Buck wrote in his autobiography that Tony Parenti was his superb and generous teacher, showing him how these mult-part compositions went, and what the performance conventions were).  But in between BILL BAILEY and ROYAL GARDEN BLUES, there are sophisticated songs (THE MOON IS LOW), Broadway classics (THIS CAN’T BE LOVE) and even a swing composition associated with the early Basie band (I’LL ALWAYS BE IN LOVE WITH YOU).  And once the obligatory ensembles on the traditional tunes are done, the solos are elegant and individualistic.

Again, a band like this says so much about the high polish that performers of that generation reached . . . especially those who didn’t always get star recognition.  Buck became a (deservedly) well-known and admired player worldwide, but the rest of the band rarely got such public recognition.  But how well they play!  What swing, what solo construction, what creative energy — and Buster and Herb had been professionals for three decades already.

Admirable, energized, inventive — and beyond cliche and cliched expectations — created by professionals who treated making music as a craft as well as art.

May your happiness increase!

“GOOD FOR WHAT AILS YOU”: JIMMY McPARTLAND, ZIGGY ELMER, BUD FREEMAN, BOB WILBER, KENNY KERSEY, DON LAMOND, GEORGE WETTLING (“Dr. Jazz,” WMGM, March 14, 1952, Stuyvesant Casino)

Feeling kind of punk?  Down in the mouth?  Are the Amazon cardboard boxes beginning to overwhelm you?  Freezer door won’t stay shut?  Phone call you’re expecting didn’t happen but a bill you weren’t looking for just flew in?  Are the upstairs neighbors’ twins re-enacting the Second World War?  Do you hear growling and realize it’s coming from you?

JAZZ LIVES has just the thing.

That serious MD is a stock photo.  But I have a quarter-hour of soul-poultice in the form of time-travel. How about Friday night, March 14, 1952? The place, the Stuyvesant Casino, Second Avenue and Ninth Street.  (It was 140 Second Avenue, and it’s now the Ukranian National Home, and yes, I’ve walked past it often.)

The healers? Aime Gauvin, master of ceremonies, broadcasting over WMGM. Jimmy McPartland, cornet; Ziggy Elmer, trombone; Bud Freeman, tenor saxophone; Bob Wilber, clarinet; Kenny Kersey, piano; Don Lamond or George Wettling, drums. A long way from Austin High School, but age didn’t matter. SAINTS / LADY BE GOOD / (Wettling for Lamond) COQUETTE / THE WORLD IS WAITING FOR THE SUNRISE / SAINTS.

Imagine hearing that blast out of your radio on a Saturday night.  What bliss.

May your happiness increase!

 

HOT STRINGS AT MONTEREY (Dixieland Monterey 2011: The Final Set)

I know it’s subjective, but I find some instruments intrinsically more pleasing than others.  I am slightly ashamed that when someone asked, “Are you going to hear the four-banjo set at the Wharf Theatre?” the words “four” and “banjos” in such proximity made me a little nervous.

But then I got more information.  “It should be good, Michael.  The four banjos will be played by Clint Baker, Katie Cavera, Paul Mehling, and John Reynolds.  Marc Caparone will play bass, and Ralf Reynolds will swing out on the washboard and blow his whistle whenever he hears a musical ‘Foul!'”

I headed north to the Wharf with expectations that it would be, well, not bad.  I could endure four banjos . . .

The music I heard not only lifted me out of my seat but is a rebuke to my inherent jazz snobbery.  This set swung as hard as anything I’ve ever heard live, and you will see that I ain’t jiving.

And since I am still grappling with a wicked cold as I write this post, I think of Aimee Gauvin’s words (when he put on his white coat and became Dr. Jazz): GOOD FOR WHAT AILS YOU!

For once, I will present with a minimum of comment.  If this music needs explanation (and the onstage speakers are wonderfully, hilariously articulate), you need more than Sudafed.

Politically incorrect intro, please?  CHINATOWN, MY CHINATOWN:

Something for Louis!  SOMEDAY YOU’LL BE SORRY:

John explains that shiny thing!  DIGA DIGA DOO:

Clint warns us — SOME OF THESE DAYS:

Did you know the secret rules of banjo culture?  Now you do.  And Katie (Baby Face) explains it all, in the key of Ab.  I wanted so badly to sing along but didn’t want my voice to overwhelm the video, so you are encouraged to sing loudly at home:

Something pretty — the 1931 DREAM A LITTLE DREAM OF ME:

Paul reinforces the banjo’s international theme with DARK EYES:

Once Katie explains the great gender-divide, we can head into what I think is a highlight of my life in 2011.  If you watch only clip in this posting (perhaps being banjo-timid) please watch this one. Surprises abound!  Watch out for flying cornets on CHARLEY, MY BOY:

Something hinting at Claude Hopkins and Fletcher Henderson c. 1932-33, HONEYSUCKLE ROSE.  Identify the quotations and win the prize:

Since these folks love their home state, what would be a better closer than CALIFORNIA, HERE I COME with a cornet interlude:

My pal Ricky Riccardi says he wants to see the Reynolds Brothers on Mount Rushmore — a fine sentiment.  But I am a man of more modest dreams.  I’d like to hear the Reynolds Brothers’ music being played on jazz / vintage pop radio shows — do any of my readers have a radio program?  Get in touch with me!

I’d like to see the Brothers appearing at jazz festivals outside of their home state.  California will just have to stop being selfish and allow the boys to travel.  We’ll change that restrictive law.  What, New York doesn’t need ferocious, hilarious swing?  England?  Really!

These are the last of the videos I took at Monterey — a mere ninety or so.  I am very proud of what I captured and have shared, and am only sad that I didn’t take more . . . But Rae Ann Berry (that’s SFRaeAnn to YouTube) has posted videos of a session or two that I didn’t catch, so head on over to YouTube to see more.

I know it is a bad idea to rush time away — with every day a wrapped box full of surprises! — but I can’t wait for the 2012 Jazz Bash By The Bay.  Thanks to all of the musicians for lifting the stage up and up and up; thanks to Sue Kroninger for creating a wonderful world for all of us to float in for that weekend.

I will close with a very personal note.

At the end of the set, Clint — who has a heart as big as the Bay Area — asked all the musicians to sign his banjo head.  I watched from a distance, not wanting to intrude.  How sweet!  His way of saying, “I never want to forget this moment, and we are all brothers and sisters.”  Then he asked me to sign it also.

I have never been so honored in my life.

I’ve won awards.  I’ve had my books reviewed in the New York Times.  But to be handed a Sharpie and encouraged to sign was something I wouldn’t have had the temerity to dream of.  I wrote only three words, “With deep love,” but that was what I felt and feel.  No one is going to ask me to sit in by playing, and that’s a good thing for the jazz cosmos, but I’ve been embraced by the people I love and admire.

WOW! to quote the Sage, Eddie Erickson.

“THAT MAN,” CONCLUDED?

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I doubt that my readers have been kept awake by the mysteries contained in this photograph, but I decided to open the discussion to the members of a jazz research group that includes the most respected jazz scholars . . . and they added a few insights. 

Michael McQuaid had suggested that the unknown baritonist might be Bill Miles — only on the basis of Miles’s apprearance on some Wild Bill Davison Commodores.  Plausible, but neither of us had any idea of what Miles looked like.

Then Peter Vacher, someone who knows things first-hand (he’s written a fine book collecting his interviews of famous jazz players — SOLOISTS AND SIDEMEN — worth searching out) emailed me:

Your photo sent me scurrying to my photo collection.  I’m pretty sure your man is Billy Miles.  I have him in a photo that Joe Darensbourg gave me showing a jam session at the Blue Bird in LA in the early 1950s. It’s an interesting line-up with Joe, Chicago drummer Bill Winston (visiting from Honolulu) and Billy Miles, playing baritone, among others.  My picture shows Miles as identical to your picture, same facial expression, parting and hair style.  Case closed?  Hope so.

That might have been the end of it if not for Dan Morgenstern, who not only knows things but has been a part of the New York jazz scene for more than half a century.  Dan proposed that 1) he had been at Stuyvesant Casino and Central Plaza, both of which were large catering halls (Central Plaza is recognizable in photographs when musicians are posed against its multicolored venetian blinds) and that it might be Lou Terassi’s; 2) the microphone was for radio broadcast; 3) it wasn’t Sidney Catlett but Art  Trappier.  I had written here that the upholstered background seemed more a night club’s decor, but I was crestfallen to lose Big Sid, with all respects to Art.  And there the matter might rest.   

But what if it was taken at a “Doctor Jazz” broadcast?  Doors shut, doors open.