When Bobby Hackett visited England in 1974, he did a long interview with Max Jones, later printed in TALKING JAZZ. This passage continues to resonate with me:
If I hear a song, I know how I want it to play. I kind of make it a rule that if it’s by a good composer, I’ll aim for a faithful interpretation, not change too much ‘cos he knew more about writing it than I ever will. So a soloist to me is an interpreter. How did the writer wish the song to sound? That’s the way I try to make it sound. If I’m playing a Cole Porter tune I don’t want it to sound like Birdland — that would be a misinterpretation, and I won’t do it. And the better the song is, the harder it is to play. Say you’re Porter or Gershwin, Berlin, Ellington — and there’s no better example — well, you did all that thinking before putting the song down on paper. So we had better play it the way you conceived it, unless we’re sure we can improve it. I’m not capable of improving on Duke Ellington, and any guys who think they are, well, they must be very vain people.
Those words came to mind when I was listening to Bobby delicately make his way through Harold Arlen’s I’VE GOT THE WORLD ON A STRING in August 1950 with the unsung Charlie Queener, piano; Carl Kress, guitar; Bob Casey, double bass; Don Marino, drums.
It couldn’t be simpler. After Carl Kress’s chordal guitar introduction, Bobby plays the melody tenderly at a slow tempo (his first chorus, with the introduction, takes two minutes), then they switch, with Bobby playing the embellishments on the expected harmony part to Kress’s lead, before concluding in the same sweet mellow mood. Those who understand will understand, and will also go back to admire Queener and Kress, master humble magicians:
No tricks, no gimmicks, no double-time, no altered harmonies. Unadorned, touching, and incredibly hard to do with such open-hearted humility and love for melody, but Bobby did it whenever he played.
Yes, Ellington, authentically, down to the grease and funk: expertly performed by Nick Rossi’s Jazzopaters at Mr. Tipple’s in San Francisco, on April 20, 2024. The flawless video is by Sunny Tokunaga.
THE MOOCHE was a dance, an Ellington standby for forty-five years. The wonderful musicians are Nick Rossi, banjo, leader; Patrick Wolff, alto saxophone, clarinet; Colin Hancock, cornet; Victor Imbo, trombone; Nathan Tokunaga, tenor saxophone, soprano saxophone, clarinet; Kamrin Ortiz, baritone saxophone, alto saxophone, clarinet; Rob Reich, piano; Clint Baker, double bass; Riley Baker, drums.
Somewhere, as I write this, a group of earnest musicians is doing their own “Ellington tribute,” which features SATIN DOLL and TAKE THE “A” TRAIN. I am glad that any music is performed in the name of Ellington, but I want Nick Rossi’s Jazzopaters to catch the eyes and ears of concert producers, club owners, swing dance organizers, festival planners. They are the real thing, offering vibrant living history, delightful to dance to.
And here’s PELICAN DRAG, from October 28, 2023, different personnel but the same groovy heart:
Let me whisper in my most subtle tones: “Don’t sleep on this band!”
And for those who are wide-awake to beauty, you can learn (and hear) more at
Trombonist Vic Dickenson had feelings. Make that FEELINGS. Writers who didn’t entirely get him heard him as a double-entendre humorist, someone telling naughty stories through brass, those of us who heard him truly understood his emotions. And they came through fervently on his choice of a solo feature, Ellington’s IN A SENTIMENTAL MOOD. Vic wasn’t chatty with people outside his circle, so he never explained his choice in print, but whenever he played it, he showed his heart.
A word about “features.” In the world of small-band swing that Vic found himself from1941 on, much of the music was exuberantly propulsive. There might be a slow blues paying tribute to a tin roof or a basin, perhaps, but in general the tempos were medium to medium-fast and the volume followed. Clarinet players might call AVALON; pianists, CAROLINA SHOUT; drummers, CARAVAN or WINNETKA, but brass players may have opted for variety of a psychic, sonic, or emotional kind. So wise musicians such as Roy Eldridge, Joe Thomas, Bobby Hackett and Vic chose to play ballads — not because they were easier to perform, but because they were music of a more solicitous kind.
I do not know when Vic first heard IN A SENTIMENTAL MOOD, which was first recorded by Duke Ellington and his Orchestra in 1935. But obviously it struck an emotional chord with him. Earlier, he was featured on YOU MADE ME LOVE YOU, which he returned to through the decades; as a comic turn, he sang on SISTER KATE, but when I requested that at a 1972 gig, he said, “They don’t know the routine,” and I understood that was a polite practical “No.” Sometimes he would offer MANHATTAN as his solo turn; sometimes the bandleader would feature him on BASIN STREET BLUES — a song trombonists have been expected to perform, perhaps harking back to Jack Teagarden. But in the decade or so that I saw him, frequently but not frequently enough, he always returned to IN A SENTIMENTAL MOOD. Here is a particularly gratifying performance: Vic doesn’t “do anything new,” but we see him close up in color, with a splendid rhythm section, and the sound is superb. Also, the rather fidgety cinematography typical of the Nice director is calmer here.
This video from the Nice Jazz Festival of July 7, 1977 (broadcast on French television) comes from a set where the front line was Benny Carter, Doc Cheatham, and Budd Johnson; the rhythm section was Hank Jones, piano; Bill Pemberton, double bass; Oliver Jackson, drums:
Play that again. We miss Vic terribly, but how fortunate we are to have his immortal music.
There are many ways to encounter the hallowed music of the past with integrity. One is to study it with such reverent adoration that one can become one’s idol, reproducing Bix’s SINGIN’ THE BLUES, Hawkins’ BODY AND SOUL, Lester’s SHOE SHINE BOY. This is not easily done and may be a lifelong quest. When it succeeds, a kind of magic happens: the audience can imagine that their hero is standing arm’s length away and they are in at the creation. Vince Giordano and the Nighthawks do this splendidly and have done so for decades.
The brilliant trumpeter Malo Mazurie can perform this music with ardor and expertise. On YouTube, you will see him splendidly being Bill Coleman in 1937 or a myriad of fabled hot brass players, in situations where he and other marvelous musicians are asked to play jazz first recorded eighty or a hundred years ago. It is a mystical world where SUMMERTIME is “a modern tune.” And, as Malo shows us in videos of live performance and discs made in the studio, he floats through that world with great style, honoring and summoning up Louis, Bix, Cootie and others.
His is a great art. But many of the musicians I know who can become other people onstage look forward to situations that allow and encourage them to be themselves. “Don’t you want to hear what I sound like?” might be the relevant question, said out loud or stifled. We admire the heroes of this art precisely because they were innovative in their time. Now, innovation within and beyond the tradition, created with ingenuity and affection, feels right.
Back to our hero, alive and flourishing in 2024.
But first, a few mnutes of delightful history. I first encountered him as one of THREE BLIND MICE, an extraordinary trio of Malo, trumpet; Felix Hunot, guitar, and Sebastien Giradot, double bass. Here they explore Willie “the Lion” Smith’s ECHOES OF SPRING with gentle audacity:
When I began to write this post, I soon found out that Malo, even when his name was not on the CD cover in bold type, was an essential part of record dates in the past decade that I love and return to; Felix Hunot’s THE JAZZ MUSKETEERS, David Lukacs’ DREAM CITY, Attila Korb’s THE ROLLINI PROJECT, the second volume of SATCHMOCRACY by the Jerome Etcheberry Popstet. He’s recorded several times with another hero of mine, the tenor saxophonist Michel Pastre. The recorded evidence shows why he is someone the finest players want on their sessions: he is a fluent player, erudite but not stiff, able to read the charts, improvise nobly, and change course in two bars without ever faltering.
TAKING THE PLUNGE is his first CD as a leader. On it, Malo and a splendid yet spare rhythm section of Noe Huchard, piano; Raphael Dever, double bass; David Grebil, drums, offer a guided tour of the country where Past and Future are best friends and go out for breakfast:
Malo is not only a master of his unforgiving instrument but also a wonderful composer. Hear his THE HOUSE OF SISTERHOOD, a gentle homage to the worlds of Billy Strayhorn:
and his gracious, inquiring CANDLELIGHTS:
The first track on the CD is Malo’s version of Morton’s THE PEARLS that I am particularly fond of:
Malo wrote, “This project represents a significant milestone for me, as it has been brewing for about a decade, but its fruition took time. So, after 4 relocations, 3 lockdowns, and 2 children, it was time! It was decided: this album would not be a revolution in jazz history nor a methodical exercise in style. It would simply be an unpretentious reflection of everything I love and that influences me in music.”
The repertoire is deep in what some might call “traditional jazz”: Ellington’s CREOLE RHAPSODY, Louis’ SOMEDAY YOU’LL BE SORRY, Bix’s DAVENPORT BLUES, Morton’s THE CHANT, SINGIN’ THE BLUES, in addition to the performances above. They are both respectful melodic explorations and candid reimaginings. Occasionally the performances of songs we know so well have a slight tilt. What I am reminded of is the sensation I had, as a child, seeing my house from across the street: completely familiar but not in an expected place. When I crossed the street and went “home,” it was reassuring to be there, but I had seen my house be two places at once. A gift.
In addition to the familiar jazz classics, Malo also offers, for good measure, seven original compositions — and they are original, not simply improvisations on more famous harmonies. H also encouraged the rhythm section “to play more open, to be wilder, be themselves (keeping the swing and the groove of course),” while he is playing “himself.” He says, “You can still hear some influences as they are all my heroes.”
Malo’s own words get to the heart of things. “This album represents for me a musical exploration, a journey through the styles and emotions I have felt since my discovery of the cornet at the age of seven . . . . Without attempting to achieve stylistic feats, I have endeavored to bring a contemporary and unique touch while preserving the conciseness of the message.
We sought to make this collective exploration free, generous, and radiant.”
Those are imposing and noble words, but when you hear TAKING THE PLUNGE, I think you will find them an accurate description of the music, lilting, personal, and vivid, that Malo and friends have created.
One of a glorious series of relaxed performances I was able to record nearly fifty years ago.
Vic loved Ellington, as seen by his claiming IN A SENTIMENTAL MOOD as a feature for more than thirty years. Here, on January 30, 1975, he is surrounded by friends: Mike Burgevin, drums; Al Hall, double bass; Jimmy Andrews, piano — at Brew’s, then a happy place at 156 East 34th Street, New York City.
This one’s for Jen Hodge, who loves Vic and Duke:
And I must credit pianist / scholar / photographer Philippe Baudoin for his lovely photograph.
It is possible you’ve never heard of the eloquent singer Ali (for Alison) Affleck unless you’ve been in Scotland and adjacent nations. But once you hear and see her, you will say, “Where have I been? Under the refrigerator?” and you’ll want to hear more.
Here she is, accompanied by the “Hot Town Tigers,” at the Edinburgh Jazz Festival in May 2021. The Tigers are Enrico Tomasso, trumpet; Ewan Bleach, reeds; Joplin Parnell, piano; Ross Baird, guitar; Ross Milligan, banjo; Roy Percy, double bass; Stu Brown, drums.
Ali’s MOOD INDIGO:
I find that incredibly moving. Her resonant voice, her thoughtful phrasing and melodic embellishments, deep feeling without artifice (she stands still and doesn’t flail): she is at the service of the song rather than the reverse. Her passionate simplicity is compelling. Ali is, as Marty Grosz says, “the real breadstick.”
Ali is also at the helm of several bands: you can find out more about her here. Her latest band, THE SPICY LI’L DEVILS, has its debut CD coming out in spring 2024.
and if you visit here, you can hear her and her rocking 1941-style band (I think of Jerry Jerome and Charlie Christian!) swing out on the Nat Gonella hit BLACK COFFEE.
I look forward to her next artistic achievements.
Don’t you want to be the first one to say to your friends, “I was just listening to Ali Affleck. She’s marvelous! Wait — you haven’t heard her?” and shake your head sadly at the collective ignorance. Be the hippest one in town. I dare you.
If you were to measure jazz ensembles by their ability to adapt to contemporary media, THE KRAZY KAPERS would get high marks. They have a Bandcamp page , which I wll be returning to in this post. They have a Facebook page.
They have a whimsical caricature-logo, drawn by double bassist Raphael Dever:
that is part of their cover art for their debut CD:
and they do interesting visual presentations:
But unlike some bands who seem to focus all the energies on “merch,” band t-shirts and pinback buttons, THE KRAZY KAPERS make astonishingly rewarding music. To use an old advertising phrase, the steak is even better than the sizzle. I am going to take a risk and suggest two monumental sources of inspiration for this CD. One:
the 1933 masterpiece, an improvisation on the harmonies of DIGA DIGA DOO by Benny Carter, Max Kaminsky, Floyd O’Brien, Chu Berry, Teddy Wilson, Lawrence Lucie, Ernest Hill, and Big Sid Catlett . . . if you don’t know this record, go listen. We’ll wait.
And behind that masterpiece is George Herriman’s subversive creation, KRAZY KAT:
The brief liner notes to this disc state (as far as I can read French) that their inspiration is the Bobby Hackett – Vic Dickenson quintet of sainted memory, and that sits very well with me. I actually saw this group several times and they were a high point of the Seventies. But that quintet had a standard rhythm section of piano, double bass, and drums. The Krazy Kapers have guitar and bass, so I propose other antecedents: the Ruby Braff-George Barnes Quartet, and the various drumless / pianoless recordings made for the HRS label: Sidney Bechet – Muggsy Spanier; Rex Stewart – Barney Bigard – Django Reinhardt; Buck Clayton’s Big Four.
Wherever The Krazy Kapers come from, and they come from many places, they are wonderful.
The Kapers are Benoît de Flamesnil, trombone; Jérôme Etcheberry, trumpet; Félix Hunot, guitar; Raphaël Dever, double bass. And they offer music with noble lineages (both composers and performances) that isn’t heard all that much: Noone, but not SWEET LORRAINE or I KNOW THAT YOU KNOW; Ellington and Hodges, but not SATIN DOLL or LUSH LIFE; Bechet, but not PETIT FLEUR. Vic Dickenson, but not SISTER KATE or IN A SENTIMENTAL MOOD. You understand.
DEEP TROUBLE / A GYPSY QWITHOUT A SONG / MANHATTAN / CONSTANTLY / JOE LOUIS STOMP / AWFUL SAD / KRAZY KAPERS / WHERE OR WHEN / GOOD QUEEN BESS / LASTIC / ROSE OF THE RIO GRANDE.
Here are two performances I love. Listen to what these creators do with this material. Please note that these aren’t “blowing sessions” but carefully created pieces, whether head arrangements or on paper, that allow the soloists delightful freedom, but something interesting is going on in every half-chorus, backgrounds and figures that suggest a tiny big band, with no dull spots:
Richard Rodgers’ WHERE OR WHEN has a quiet intensity I associate with the Hackett-Teagarden I GUESS I’LL HAVE TO CHANGE MY PLAN. When I first got the CD, I played this track so often that had it been a Fifties record, it would be graying by now. And a riotous ROSE OF THE RIO GRANDE.
What shines through here, as your ears will tell you, is that these four musicians are immensely talented, ready to solo eloquently or to support one another in ensembles in the best way . . . and they are themselves.
That sounds too simple: of course, we “are ourselves,” but in the world of hot music, with the Ancestors standing hundreds of feet tall, with OKehs and Victors casting huge shadows over our puny selves, the instinct to imitate is very powerful and can be crippling. A musician who approaches an Ellington composition with love and reverence may have to work hard to not imitate Cootie, Rex, or Barney, because it, at first, seems the deepest homage, and evidence of mastery.
But the wise musicians, and the Krazy Kapers are very wise, honor the innovators by hewing to the conventions, those that are durable, but shining their infividualities within them. Honoring Bobby or Vic, thus, on this recording, doesn’t mean playing Bobby or Vic’s notes: it means creating something that the great Ancestors would admire, permeated in every way with living, breathing individuality.
This disc is a lovely and fulfilling creation. I hope it’s the first of many Kapers.
Guitarist-scholar Nick Rossi has an excellent ear for what’s good and true and often overlooked. His most recent project has been a deep immersion into the Ellington-and-Strayhorn small-group recordings of the Thirties and early Forties. The result wasn’t one of Nick’s splendidly-researched essays: no, much better, a well-rehearsed and thoughtfully-assembled jazz recital, two sets at Mr. Tipple’s Recording Studio in San Francisco, California, on October 28. The band was Nick Rossi, guitar; band leader; Patrick Wolff, alto saxophone, director; James Dunning, trumpet; Remee Ashley, trombone; Nathan Tokunaga, clarinet; Kamrin Ortiz, baritone saxophone; Rob Reich, piano; Mikiya Matsuda, double bass; Riley Baker, drums.
I couldn’t be there, but I and you have the next best thing: superb video coverage by Sunny Tokunaga. Here are two delightful performances. The first, less familiar, is PELICAN DRAG, composed by Harry Carney for a 1940 Columbia / OKeh session but not issued until the microgroove era; the second is the perennial MOOD INDIGO, which Duke was performing and recording back in 1930 for various labels.
PELICAN DRAG, featuring the startlingly accomplished Nathan Tokunaga:
MOOD INDIGO, showing off Rob Reich, James Dunning, Remee Ashley, and Nathan:
I hope for more performances by this ensemble . . . gigs as well as videos, so that we can see them in person. Gorgeous music, full of emotion and grace — AND — such an occasion gives me and others an excuse to use the word JAZZOPATERS in conversation, something that probably hasn’t happened since 1938 or so. Evidence:
It may have been a long time since you or I could say to a friend, “Have you heard the new disc by Barney and his Jazzopaters? You must come up and hear it!” but the music is what counts, and the music is so splendidly alive here. Thank you, Nick and colleagues!
We owe Dan Morgenstern more than one blogpost or a dozen can say. He’s one of those figures untainted by ideological squabbling; he’s written about so much that reading him has been a jazz education and, even more, an education in how to listen and how to feel. Then, of course, who else do we know who’s heard Django and Fats, talked with Louis and Lester and Bird, hung out with Lips Page and George Wein, Buddy Rich, Stan Getz, and Miles? Hail, Eminence! is what I say.
Tomorrow there will be a birthday party at Birdland, with the living Louis-soundtrack provided by David Ostwald’s Louis Armstrong Eternity Band. I wish I could invite you, but it’s sold out. As it should be.
So what I can do is twofold. One, since Dan reads this blog, if you care to send him a virtual hug, he will get it here. (He’s on Facebook but he ignores it.)
And second, I will post a few of the interviews he graciously granted me a few years ago: revealing, funny, heartbreaking, and genuine.
Pres:
Billie, part one:
and the conclusion:
Lee Konitz:
“Symphony Sid” Torin:
A heroic story of three people you wouldn’t think of in the same breath: Perry Como, Cozy Cole, and Joey Nash:
James Moody:
Bird:
Stan:
I’ve posed more than 110 of thee segments: a good deal on Louis, on record-collecting, on being “under the influence,” on Miles, Rowles, Tommy Benford, Tadd Dameron, Benny, Duke, Basie, Ella, Lena, and more. All there for the watching.
HAPPY BIRTHDAY, DAN! We are lucky to share the planet, and the music, with you.
When you’re remembered long after you’ve moved on, that’s immortality. And as Wilde said somewhere, one can create a work of art or be one. Duke Ellington lasts for both reasons.
The Duke moved to another neighborhood in 1974. None of the musicians in the tribute below is still with us, but nothing seems distant or dusty in the music and the vibrant energy they bring to it. Immortality.
The tribute was performed at the Nice Jazz Festival on July 17, 1977, and it was then broadcast on French television, on October 15, 1978 (and at a later date) as “BARNEY BIGARD SPECIAL No. 4 / HOMMAGE A DUKE ELLINGTON.”
Beautiful leisurely performances: I take particular delight in Teddy Wilson’s work here, and, yes, that is Clark’s wordless vocal on CREOLE LOVE CALL.
COTTON TAIL / CREOLE LOVE CALL* / DON’T GET AROUND MUCH ANYMORE / JUST SQUEEZE ME* / IN A MELLOTONE // Barney Bigard, clarinet; Clark Terry, flugelhorn and vocal*; Billy Mitchell, tenor saxophone; Teddy Wilson, piano; Slam Stewart, string bass; Bobby Rosengarden, drums.
It’s an honor to be able to share this concert. While Duke was alive, he was forever rearranging his band into units with different sizes and shapes: I think of the magnificent small-band recordings beginning in the middle Thirties, often thanks to Helen Oakley Dance. After he died, the most imaginative of his alumni — and I put Clark Terry high on that list — continued the impulse. I feel it was not simply for record dates or concert performances, but a way to honor the Maestro’s aesthetic curiosity (or restlessness) and have fun among friends as well.
Here is a frankly thrilling eighty-five minute presentation — far more than a re-creation or a ghost band — of the music Duke and his men made and continued to make, fresh, in 1988.
C JAM BLUES / MOOD INDIGO / WHAT AM I HERE FOR? / COME SUNDAY / SATIN DOLL / DO NOTHIN’ TILL YOU HEAR FROM ME / ALL TOO SOON / PRIMPING FOR THE PROM / I LET A SONG GO OUT OF MY HEART / JUST SQUUEZE ME / SPACEMEN / Happy Birthday to Ernst Steiner / THINGS AIN’T WHAT THEY USED TO BE //
Clark Terry, trumpet, vocal; Willie Cook, trumpet; Britt Woodman, trombone; Jimmy Hamilton, clarinet; Norris Turney, alto saxophone; Harold Ashby, tenor saxophone; Aaron Bell, piano; Jimmy Woode, string bass; Louis Bellson, drums; Hal Crook, arrangements and trombone, added on PROM and after. Bern Jazz Festival 1988:
Marvelous that this was funded by Bern and even more that it was beautifully recorded and exists to be shared with us now. I’ve offered other Bern presentations on this site and there are more to come.
If there’s anything more lovely than Ben Webster playing a dreamy love song, I don’t know it. And appropriately, the subject here is the very evocative YOU’LL NEVER KNOW, by Harry Warren and Mack Gordon.
This performance comes from Duke Ellington’s stint at New York City’s “Hurricane” in the summer of 1943. The personnel of the band is Ben Webster, tenor saxophone; Duke Ellington, piano, leader; Junior Raglin, string bass; Fred Guy, guitar; Sonny Greer, drums; Ray Nance, Wallace Jones, Rex Stewart, Harold Baker, trumpet / cornet; Juan Tizol, Lawrence Brown, Tricky Sam Nanton, trombone / valve trombone; Chauncey Haughton, Johnny Hodges, Otto Hardwicke, Harry Carney, reeds.
The source material is originally from a Jazz Archives recording, “Ben Webster: A Tribute to A Great Jazzman,” produced by Jerry Valburn.
With luck, there’s someone to dance with, even if it’s the kitchen.
In the years that Barney Bigard brought his clarinet to the Nice Jazz Festival, he had many opportunities to play the music he had made famous among people who revered him. The people who shared the Nice concerts on French television thought he was both an Ancestor and good theatre: there are many broadcasts featuring him, a great boon.
This brief video concert has all the major aesthetic food groups: Duke Ellington and his men; the blues; George Gershwin; deep-blue tenderness; inventiveness; respect for the tradition; wild exploration that goes out and comes back. And although this performance happened forty-five years ago, both Dick Hyman and Eddie Daniels are alive and well.
The facts, ma’am:
Barney Bigard, clarinet; Bob Wilber, clarinet and alto saxophone; Zoot Sims, Eddie Daniels, tenor saxophone; Dick Hyman, piano; Clark Terry, flugelhorn; George Duvivier, string bass; Bobby Rosengarden, drums.
THE MAN I LOVE Bigard, Hyman, Duvivier, Rosengarden.
A little commentary. MOOD INDIGO, implicitly scored for two clarinets and rhythm, couldn’t be more mellow, with Wilber matching Bigard in mood and phrasing, so beautifully. And that rhythm section!
PERDIDO is more of a solo-centered jam session, but watch Duvivier eyeing Hyman whimsically when the latter deconstructs the bridge on his choruses. Everyone is in lovely form — it’s a pleasure to watch Zoot, Bob, and Clark merely in such close comfortable proximity, and to have tangible evidence that these gatherings DID happen. Eddie Daniels offers a change of pace and mood, for sure, but his solo is most understandable as a desire to make himself known. Following such masters of the form, he “goes for himself,” as Lester Young says. I find it a little startling, but the band coalesces for the ending.
Barney, perhaps feeling that Serenity Now is called for, reminds us that THE MAN I LOVE is as tender as MOOD INDIGO is blue, and he stays with the ballad tempo, not always his practice. The result is a caress one chorus long.
Yes, it’s the Nice Jazz Festival, but interludes like this are far more than nice.
This one’s for our friend, the phenomenal young clarinetist Nathan Tokunaga.
May your happiness increase!
P.S. I am currently in exile from Facebook (a hacker got me on May 7, 2023) so if you are an active Facebooker, please share this with people who would vibrate to it.
If you were in school before Google, you know what reference books look like. Dark cloth bindings fraying at top and bottom, thin yellowed pages, tiny type, a dusty smell, heavy in the hand. Useful to find an errant fact but not in the least entertaining.
THE SOUNDIES: A HISTORY AND CATALOG OF JUKEBOX FILM SHORTS OF THE 1940s (forewords by Leonard Maltin and Will Friedwald) published by McFarland, is a vibrant contradiction of the stereotype. It’s full of lively information, photographs, and vibrant stories. And its cover is a bright orange.
Here’s an eleven-minute film interlude: a tour through Soundies themselves, with Mark as guide:
The publisher writes:
The 1940s saw a brief audacious experiment in mass entertainment: a jukebox with a screen. Patrons could insert a dime, then listen to and watch such popular entertainers as Nat “King” Cole, Gene Krupa, Cab Calloway or Les Paul. A number of companies offered these tuneful delights, but the most successful was the Mills Novelty Company and its three-minute musical shorts called Soundies.
This book is a complete filmography of over 2,500 Soundies: the musicians heard and seen on screen, recording and filming dates, arrangers, soloists, dancers, entertainment trade reviews and more. Additional filmographies cover more than 80 subjects produced by other companies. There are 125 photos taken on film sets, along with advertising images and production documents. More than 75 interviews narrate the firsthand experiences and recollections of Soundies directors and participants. Forty years before MTV, the Soundies were there for those who loved the popular music of the 1940s. This was truly “music for the eyes.”
I first encountered the Soundies through the famous ones by Duke Ellington (with Ben Webster, Ray Nance, Rex Stewart, and Sonny Greer) and Louis Armstrong (with precious glimpses of Sidney Catlett driving the orchestra) — then I found Mark Cantor’s invaluable website, https://www.jazz-on-film.com/. (He also calls it “Celluloid Improvisations.”)
Now, I can hear some of you saying, “I like jazz, and I like to see my heroes on film. I can see these Soundies on YouTube. Whatever do I need this book, these books, for?”
It’s true that the bulk of the book is, as its title states, a catalog of these film shorts. But what a deeply researched catalog! To explain the book’s many virtues, let us imagine someone seeing this Soundie for the first time:
Certain things are obvious: the title, director, and producer. Ellington announces Ben Webster, and it’s clear the band and he are playing COTTON TAIL. But who are the dancers? And when was this filmed?
THE SOUNDIES has the answers and more. On page 226 of the first volume, even a casual reader would learn that the Soundie was released on February 2, 1942, that the legendary dancers are Whitey’s Lindy Hoppers, featuring Frankie Manning and Norma Miller. Cantor’s book also includes contemporary press reviews and the one-word description on the Soundies production sheet, in this case, “Colored.”
Then the book can reveal more, even to someone paging through casually.
The very first Soundie, thus the first entry in the listing, is SWEET SUE by Six Hits and A Miss, accompanied by the Lorraine Page Orchestra but the music is provided by composer Victor Young’s Orchestra and he is briefly seen on screen. In addition, the orchestra includes Andy Secrest, trumpet; Arthur Schutt, piano; Bill Rank, trombone; Spike Jones, drums.
Not all the performers listed for every Soundie are audible; Mark has dug out information from union contracts and recollections of the musicians. In one case, Dave Tough is playing drums in 1946 Soundies by Gracie Barrie, accompanied by Jerry Jerome’s Orchestra, but he’s not recognizable.
THE SOUNDIES will add information to what we know about Eddie South and Henry “Red” Allen, but the shorts were not restricted to jazz, which makes the volumes even more valuable as a cross-section of musical taste from 1940 to 1947. But for every solo by Don Stovall, there is comedy, vaudeville, war propaganda in song, mild double-entendre, calypso, and more. (A student of popular culture of the time could dive into this book and never come up for air.)
And more. The book begins with a history of the companies that made these films, the machinery that played them, and — in the process — offers priceless information about singers, dancers, and night spots. “Jaw-dropping” is not a usual phrase in my vocabulary, but it describes my reaction to page 84, where Mark has included a small advertising card from Small’s Paradise — the band then appearing was Charlie Johnson’s Paradise Orchestra. New to me, and thrilling.
And even more. One of the most delightful sections of the book is a thirty-plus-page compendium of interviews of people connected with the Soundies. Not surprisingly, the stories spring off the page. Some of the people Mark has spoken with are Van Alexander, Tony Mottola, Les Paul, Ray Anthony, David Raskin, Abe Most, Jane Harvey, Hugh Martin, Joe Wilder, Mary Osborne, Martha Tilton, Kay Starr, Liza Morrow, Tiny Grimes, Pete Candoli, and more.
Three tales:
Saxophonist Jay Migliori tells of making Soundies with the Gene Krupa band when Roy Eldridge was a member and the director saying that Roy could not be seen in the trumpet section. Gene’s reaction? “Pack up, boys,” and Roy stayed.
Mark himself tells the story of watching a Lucky Millinder Soundie — with a trombonist he couldn’t identify — with trombonist Benny Powell and reedman Joe Farrell:
They both watched attentively and seemed stumped. But then Joe asked Benny, “Could that be Trombonesky?” Yes, said Benny, it was a legendary Harlem trombone player everyone listened to, but who mysteriously vanished without a trace. I dutifully took notes and always told audiences about this amazing, unknown musician. “Ladies and gentlemen, please note that this is the only film, or recorded evidence, of the legendary Trombonesky, a Harlem musician briefly on the scene, influencing others, then disappearing in 1941 and not heard from since.“
It was years later that I realized I had been conned by these two wonderful gentlemen , who didn’t recognize the soloist as Floyd Brady and decided to put me on. Hats off to their superb improvisation and acting skills. Trombonesky, R.I.P.
And an expurgated comment from the exuberantly profane Henry Nemo:
“Kay Penton [who appears with Nemo in the Soundie Hip Hip Hooray (entry 907)] was really hot. She was what we used to call a real dish, had a great pair of tits. I wanted to get something going with her, but she didn’t have eyes for me.”
“Shit, man, I can’t recall hardly anything from back then. It was just something to make a little money. You don’t really carry that type of thing with you through the years. Let’s see another movie!”
Anything done carefully and with passion is in itself indelibly intriguing. For forty years, Mark Cantor has been doing the hard work that makes this book remarkable. And although his website already has space for additions and corrections, no other book will replace this one. And it’s fascinating, whether the reader starts dutifully at the begining or dips in here and there.
By the way, my title — approved by Mark — refers to a reviewer’s praise for the substantial singer, June Richmond, in a Soundie. But it surely applies to these volumes: enlightening, full of surprises, and great fun.
May your happiness increase!
P.S. As I write this, May 23, 2023, I am still exiled from Facebook because of a hacking two weeks prior. If you are on FB and know someone else who would like to read this, please pass it on. Thank you.
Yes, it’s true. Two new CDs from pianist Ray Skjelbred — one solo, one solo and trio, with Jacob Zimmerman, alto saxophone and clarinet; Matt Weiner, string bass. The trio recording pictured above is available here in digital and physical form.
Both trio and solo recordings are available in digital form from Ray himself (19526 40th Place NE, Lake Forest Park, WA 98155) — each one for 17.00 USD.
The disc pictured above has fifteen selections. The trio selections are marked *.
BLUE AIR BLUES* / NOBODY’S SWEETHEART / SOLITUDE* / MEMORIES OF YOU / DINAH* / JACK DAILY BLUES* / RUSSIAN LULLABY* / KMH DRAG / THAT RHYTHM MAN / BLUES FOR ART HODES / BLUE AND SENTIMENTAL* / FAREWELL BLUES* / COQUETTE* / PIANO MAN / SMILING SKIES //
At Bandcamp you can listen to BLUE AIR BLUES (based on a phrase created by Sidney Bechet in 1941 for a Victor record date with Vic Dickenson) and KMH DRAG (in honor of the fabled Max Kaminsky-Freddie Moore-Art Hodes Blue Note record date).
I created a YouTube video of the trio’s SOLITUDE because it left me awestruck:
Ray’s solo piano recital (shown below) is available only from him, directly, and it’s lovely.
I couldn’t bear people not hearing some music from it, so here are two videos, both of them with deep roots in Earl Hines and his world.
HAVE YOU EVER FELT THAT WAY? — which Hines sang on record, also in 1929. Ray’s version is jaunty, but if you know the lyrics, a shirt-sleeved melancholy peeps through:
And the hilarious explosion that is Alex Hill’s BEAU KOO JACK:
The solo performances are ROSETTA / BLACK AND BLUE / MY LITTLE PRIDE AND JOY / SWEET ELLA MAY / ANAGRAM BLUES / HAVE YOU EVER FELT THAT WAY? / I COVER THE WATERFRONT / BEAU KOO JACK / 313 RAG / SAVOYAGERS STOMP / PINKY ROSE / STRUTTIN’ WITH SOME BARBECUE / THERE WILL NEVER BE ANOTHER YOU //
I’ve been entranced with Ray and his colleagues since 1988 or so, when John L. Fell sent me a tape containing BERKELEY RHYTHM, and I have been privileged to meet, hear, and video-record him in person for a several years (my “California period,” 2011-2016, more or less) — something I do not take lightly.
Ray and his music are anything but monochromatic. There are touchstones for those who pay attention: Earl Hines, Jess Stacy, Frank Melrose, the Chicago Cubs, Washington Phillips, Alex Hill, Louis Armstrong, Chicago hot music, the dolceola, Count Basie, Sir Charles Thompson, Donald Duck, Joe Sullivan, Bing Crosby, Emerson, Art Hodes, the Marx Brothers, Western Swing, Jim Goodwin, all beings with their own essential personalities, and art that remains its identity no matter how vigorous the transformation.
His playing is at once emotionally deep and instantly accessible, but it wriggles away from those who would compartmentalize it. All I can say is that it is a series of remarkable balances: joy and melancholy, stomp and contemplation, facility and plainness. He is himself, and that is thrilling.
On the trio recording he is joined, shoulder-to-shoulder, by two people who have their own selves firmly intact, although wildness emerges for those who listen closely. It would be possible to build a Swing Era big band purely on the rewarding cardiac thrum of Matt Weiner’s string bass, where he creates engaging melodies while supplying that mobile foundation. Jacob Zimmerman is an explorer at heart, reminding me of Boyce Brown and Paul Desmond andJimmy Giuffre, early Bird and Pete Brown in turn, while peeking out from behind his latest four-bar surprise.
The repertoire chosen on both discs has deep roots in what academia would call a pre-World War Two jazz canon: Clarence Williams and Carroll Dickerson, Johnny Green and Harry Warren, Blue Note Records, Hershel Evans, Benny Meroff, and more. But this is not a trip to the museum, for both CDs, at points, are lifted up by a kind of playful disobedience. “We can play this song the way everyone expects us to play it, but here and there we need to be elastic, to improvise, not only in notes and rests, but spiritually.” All this music exemplifies play at its best, an art that is both puppy-friendly and as serious as one’s life-work,
The real thing, full of delightful shadings.
I am a serious Bandcamp enthusiast, and have applauded many of their releases. And it might be the only way one can acquire the trio CD in digital form. But I applaud even more the direct offering of support (read “love”) to the artist(s). So although I don’t want Ray to be so busy answering the mail and cashing checks that he doesn’t have time to play, I’d love to find out that his mailbox is full of lettuce. Consider yourself pointed in that direction.
A dell is a small, secluded valley, often with trees. Then there’s the children’s song, recorded almost two hundred years ago in Germany:
Those who wish to sing along are encouraged to do so. Those who wish to theorize are not.
Then, there’s the piece of music that ran through my thoughts this morning:
Johnny Hodges and his Orchestra, August 1, 1938: Johnny Hodges, alto and soprano saxophone; Cootie Williams, trumpet; Lawrence Brown, trombone; Harry Carney, baritone saxophone; Duke Ellington, piano; Billy Taylor, Sr., string bass; Sonny Greer, drums.
“You play your personality,” Roswell Rudd told me.
Jazz musicians of this caliber didn’t need sophisticated melodies or chord changes to make memorable — perhaps whimsical — music. And I wonder. Did someone [possibly Helen Oakley Dance] in the studio say, “You fellows can swing anything. Even nursery rhymes,” before everyone began to improvise variations on the theme?
Of course, there’s always the idea that the Rabbit would have been at home in the Dell, but I digress.
November 2014, Bent Persson (right) and a humble admirer at the Whitley Bay Jazz Party. Photo by Andrew Wittenborn.
BENT PERSSON is a true hero of mine, and I know I have company around the world. I think of his friendly kind enthusiasm in person — he is ready to laugh at the world’s absurdities — and the soaring trumpet player, at once exact and passionate, who makes Louis and his world come alive in the brightest ways.
I first met Bent in the way that we used to find our heroes in the pre-internet era, sonically. In the middle Seventies, I was passionately collecting records. That meant that I would spend the day in New York City visiting record stores, coming home when I had used up my money. I prowled through Happy Tunes One and Two, Dayton’s, and J&R Records near City Hall, where I spotted a record on a label I hadn’t heard of before (“Kenneth Records”) featuring Bent Persson (someone new) playing his orchestral versions of the Louis Armstrong 50 Hot Choruses book published in Chicago, 1927. Perhaps it was $6.99, the price of two DJ copies or cutouts, but I took the risk. It was electrifying, joyous, and hot beyond my wildest expectations. Here’s what it sounded like.
HIGH SOCIETY, in duet with pianist Ulf Johansson Werre (1977):
I kept on buying every record (then CD) on which he appeared, and he visited the US now and again — although I wasn’t at liberty to meet him — to make sublime hot music, some of it captured in videos from the Manassas Jazz Festival.
CHINATOWN, with Kenny Davern, Jim Dapogny, Tomas Ornberg, and Steve Jordan (1988):
and duets with Jim Dapogny, CHICAGO BREAKDOWN and BLACK BOTTOM STOMP (1985):
At some point, I had acquired a computer and an email account, and was writing for THE MISSISSIPPI RAG, so I remember starting a correspondence with Bent — admiring and curious on my part, friendly and gracious on his. In the intervening years of record collecting, I understood that Bent was a Renaissance man of hot trumpet (and cornet): yes, Louis, but also Bix, Red, Cootie, and others, and no mere copyist, but a great understander and emulator, always himself while letting the light of his heroes shine through him. A great scholar as well, although that might be too obvious to write.
Finally the circumstances of my life changed so that I could fly — literally and figuratively — and in 2009 I made my way to the Whitley Bay Jazz Party, which I attended every year until 2016, video camera at the ready, approaching my heroes, shyly beaming love and gratitude at them. Bent knew me slightly from our correspondence, but I recall coming up to him, introducing myself, hugging him, and saying that he had been a hero of mine for decades. He took it all with good grace.
I created more than a hundred videos of Bent in that series of delightful parties, and I will share only four: you can find the rest on YouTube with a little earnest searching.
CLEMENTINE with Norman Field, Spats Langham, Frans Sjostrom (2009):
DUSK with Frans and Jacob Ullberger (2009):
LOOKIN’ GOOD BUT FEELIN’ BAD with the Red Hot Reedwarmers (2009):
and for an incendiary closer, DING DONG DADDY with Enrico Tomasso, Spats Langham, Kristoffer Kompen, and other luminaries (2015):
Please don’t let the apparent historical nature of these videos fool you into thinking that Bent has hung up his horns and dumped his valve oil into the trash.
He is still performing, and there were gigs with BENTS JAZZ COCKTAIL as recently as mid-August (what a well-dressed crew!) Visit Bent’s Facebook page for the most current news of his schedule.
This is the most fragmentary celebration of Bent, a man devoted to his art but also a first-rate human being who beams when he talks about the family he adores. If he is new to you, I hope you have been as uplifted and electrified by his music presented here as I have been for almost fifty years. If he is a shining light to you, here is another occasion to thank him for being and sustaining the glories of jazz.
It is, although across too many miles, another hug, so well-deserved.
Even as jazz as an art form prides itself on “moving forward,” it’s always been affectionately retrospective, cherishing the deep past and the recent past in performance and recordings. Think of Louis bringing his mentor’s DIPPER MOUTH BLUES to the Henderson band, even though Joe Oliver was probably continuing to play it; Bix and Tram recording the ODJB’s OSTRICH WALK; Bird playing Lester’s solo on SHOE SHINE BOY. (I am indebted to Matthew Rivera for reminding me of this idea through his radio broadcast on WKCR.)
One of the most rewarding institutions to come out of jazz’s desire to both honor the past as itself and to make it new was the New York Jazz Repertory Company. Not only did the NYJRC perform at the Newport in New York jazz festival, it brought its “shows” worldwide, most often under the leadership of the brilliant Dick Hyman. I saw Louis and Bix tributes in the early Seventies, and they were electrifying; even better, the NYJRC idea was a staple of the Nice Jazz Festival, and some of the concert performances were broadcast on French television. (I’ve posted a ninety-minute tribute to Benny Goodman recently here.
Trotting through YouTube last night — the cyber-equivalent of my getting on my bicycle when I was thirteen and riding to the public library — I found two half-hour NYJRC delights, posted by others in 2015, that I hadn’t seen before. I predict that you will enjoy them also. The first is a Basie tribute, from July 12, 1978; the second, Duke, July 17, 1977.
Those expecting note-for-note recreations of recordings will be, I think, pleasantly surprised by the openness of the arrangements and the leeway given the “contemporary” soloists to play their personalities. Everything is reasonably idiomatic but there are delightful shocks here and there.
The “Basie band” here is Sweets Edison, Cat Anderson, Jimmie Maxwell, Joe Newman, trumpet; Benny Powell, Dicky Wells, John Gordon, trombone; Paul Bascomb, Paul Moen, Bob Wilber, Pepper Adams, Earle Warren, reeds; Dick Hyman, piano; Bucky Pizzarelli, guitar; Chubby Jackson, string bass; Bobby Rosengarden, drums. I count at least six venerated Basie alumni.
JUMPIN’ AT THE WOODSIDE (Paul Bascomb, Harry Edison, Benny Powell, Bob Wilber, Dick Hyman) / ONE O’CLOCK JUMP (Hyman, Paul Moen, Dicky Wells, Bascomb, Joe Newman, Hyman) / ROCK-A-BYE BASIE (Wilber, Moen, Sweets, Hyman and Chubby Jackson) / HARVARD BLUES (Bascomb, Newman, vocal) / BROADWAY (Wilber, Sweets, Hyman, Wilber, Bascomb, Pepper Adams, Powell, John Gordon, Earle Warren, Cat Anderson, Moen):
and “the Ellington band,” made up of many of the same champions, Hyman, Rosengarden, Wilber, Pepper Adams, Maxwell — with Jon Faddis, Pee Wee Erwin, Joe Newman, trumpets; Eddie Daniels, Zoot Sims, Billy Mitchell, reeds; George Duvivier, string bass, John Mosca, Billy Campbell, Earl McIntyre, trombone:
EAST ST. LOUIS-TOODLE OO (Wilber, Pepper, Daniels, Erwin) / DOUBLE CHECK STOMP (Maxwell, Wilber, Billy Campbell) / JUNGLE NIGHTS IN HARLEM (possibly John Mosca, Maxwell, Daniels) / DOCTOR E.K.E. (composition by Raymond Fol, piano; Mosca, Mitchell, Faddis, Sam Woodyard, drums) / HARLEM AIR-SHAFT (McIntyre, Faddis, Daniels, Joe Newman) / BLUE GOOSE (Wilber, Maxwell, Zoot, Mosca, Wilber) / JUMPIN’ PUNKINS (Duvivier, Pepper, Rosengarden, Hyman, Rosengarden) / CHELSEA BRIDGE (Hyman, Zoot, Hyman, McIntyre):
Honoring the originals and their creators but giving plenty of space to honor the present — a lovely balance. And if you’d rather hear the Basie Deccas and Ellington Victors, they will still be there, undamaged and pristine.
Here’s a quarter-hour of Duke Ellington and his Famous Orchestra. I post it here not only because it’s probably a rarity to most listeners, but because it also showed why Duke entertained so many audiences so well for so long: a perceptive variety of music and approaches, from screaming trumpet to sweet dance music with female and male vocalists, from rockin’ in rhythm for the jitterbugs to topical comedy appropriate to the war effort. Something for everyone and then some.
DUKE ELLINGTON (Coca-Cola Spotlight Parade of Bands #372, Buffalo, New York): BLUE SKIES / I WONDER WHY (Betty Roche) / ROCKIN’ IN RHYTHM / DO NOTHIN’ TILL YOU HEAR FROM ME (Hibbler) / A SLIP OF THE LIP (Nance) // This is not the complete broadcast, but only one track — SLIP — has been issued commercially.
Tom Lord’s discography lists this as an NBC Blue Network broadcast, Trico Products Factory, Buffalo, N.Y., November 27, 1943. Rex Stewart, cornet; Wallace Jones, Harold “Shorty” Baker, trumpet; Ray Nance, trumpet, violin, vocal; Joe Nanton, Lawrence Brown, trombone; Juan Tizol, valve-trombone; Jimmy Hamilton, clarinet, tenor saxophone; Johnny Hodges, alto saxophone; Otto Hardwick, alto saxophone, clarinet; Skippy Williams, tenor saxophone, clarinet; Harry Carney baritone saxophone, clarinet, bass clarinet; Duke Ellington, piano; Fred Guy, guitar; Junior Raglin, string bass; Sonny Greer, drums; Betty Roche, Al Hibbler, vocal.
And for some historical trivia: Trico made windshield wipers and closed in 2002 after 85 years of operation. Ellington’s music, happily, continues to operate on us.
This post is for my fellow Ellingtonian Nick Rossi.
I don’t do well at games of chance, so I stay out of casinos, don’t buy scratch-off lottery tickets, and wouldn’t put down a dollar to bet where the pea would be under the walnut shell. But I am so happy to announce the return of my favorite musical game of chance, a duo-recital for voice (Yaala Ballin) and piano (Michael Kanan) that will take place this coming Sunday, February 13, at 3 PM, in the little Greenwich Village church, St. John’s in the Village, 218 West 11th Street (Google Maps points out that it is close to “Carrie Bradshaw’s Apartment,” which has obviously become a historical landmark).
Michael Kanan
Before I explain why someone might consider this concert a game of chance, let me offer some music from their most recent outing two years ago (!), Valentine’s Day 2020 . . . aeons ago, each song displaying the affectionate balance between puckish risk-taking and heart-on-sleeve emotions that Yaala and Michael create with such art.
Here they delicately unfurl the Paul Mertz – Jimmy Dorsey narrative of quiet adoration:
“We love schmaltz,” Yaala says — but this version of the Rodgers and Hart classic never gets schmaltzy. Rather, there is a sly tenderness that reminds us of what this song is all about, and how sweet those envisionings of togetherness are and will be:
A singer, a pianist, and the Great American Songbook might sound like a familiar formula. But wait! There’s more!
Most recitals have a fixed set of songs that will be performed, or as they say in Britain, “the programme.” In Carnegie Hall, it might be Haydn – Bartok – Dvorak (the audience knows this when they purchase their tickets). A jazz concert might not be announced in advance, but there is a “set list.”
Playfully but seriously, Yaala and Michael make sure the audience has a chance to choose what they will hear.
Whether the audience is there on the spot or enjoying the streaming performance, they will be asked to choose two songs they would like to hear (from a list provided beforehand — Berlin, Kern, Rodgers and Hart, Ellington, Gershwin, and more). Those “requests” go into a tangible-virtual basket and the program proceeds by intent happenstance, as Yaala picks the next slip of paper or the next virtual request. It adds whimsy and spontaneity to an already delightful duet.
Here you can purchase tickets (virtual and tangible), choose songs, and in general, involve yourselves in the afternoon’s pleasures with even greater enjoyment. Whether you are in front of your screen or on the benches at St. John’s in the Village, you will be charmed.
Yes, Vic Dickenson. You know, the “Dixieland” trombonist known for his “wry humor.”
A small sweet surprise: Vic Dickenson, trombone; Earl Hines, piano; Harley White, string bass; Eddie Graham, drums — playing an Ellington ballad, perhaps THE Ellington ballad. So many writers made so much of Vic’s “dirty” style, his growls, that they forgot his deep heart, his deep feelings for pretty songs . . . his love of melody, of pure sounds. And although no one was wise enough to ask Vic to make a recording of Ellington and Strayhorn, he called IN A SENTIMENTAL MOOD as his feature night after night when I saw him.
The first thing an attentive listener might notice is Vic’s slowing-down the tempo: he’s not about to be rushed into baroque Hines flourishes. A stately yet passionate exposition of the melody, growing more fervent in his second chorus. Then a coda-cadenza, rhapsodic and bluesy all at once. A masterpiece from the Grande Parade du Jazz at Nice, France, performed on July 20, 1975.
Hank O’Neal told me that one of his dream projects was to record Vic with strings. Such a pity that didn’t happen. Listen to I GOT IT BAD again and realize that, as a ballad player, Vic is at the level of Ben and Pres, Hodges and his dear friend Bobby Hackett. Thank goodness we have these four minutes of Vic, quietly reminding us of what he did and could do: wordlessly touch our hearts without making a fuss of doing so.
Oh, little things. The subtleties of melodic embellishment. Imbuing the familiar written notes with personality. Being witty without being heavy-handed. Creating light-hearted perpetual-motions of swing. Working as a community. Honoring the elders but understanding just how innovative those elders are.
In short, the very foundations of great enticing art that never shouts or insists on capital letters. A wooing art, genial and seductive. Humane and friendly — and graciously old-fashioned in its embrace of listeners, with no hauteur.
The music that exemplifies these assertions was performed and recorded at the cleverly titled Vegans N’ Roses in Spain, a month or so before the pandemic told us that the bar was closed indefinitely. How fortunate we are to have this evidence, which drummer Guillem has just posted on YouTube and which I happily share with you.
BLUE LESTER:
TEACH ME TONIGHT:
WHO KNOWS:
MOUNT HARISSA:
Children at play in a field, but with the wisdom of the Elders — that’s what I hear. If these musicians are new to you, write their names down on the back of a grocery receipt and carry it in your wallet . . . or note them on your phone, so you won’t forget them. They know how to light the way.
JAZZ LIVES 