Tag Archives: Irving Caesar

ONE TREAT AFTER ANOTHER: DARYL SHERMAN, “LOST IN A CROWDED PLACE”

Daryl Sherman‘s new CD, LOST IN A CROWDED PLACE (Audiophile), is just splendid, and I don’t exaggerate.  I’d thought that with her most recent disc, MY BLUE HEAVEN, she’d reached a real peak of intimacy and swinging expressiveness.  But this newest recording offers even more expansive delights.  And, by the way, don’t let the title put you off: the music is not morose.

Daryl, once again, presents very heartfelt dramatic vignettes — a dozen.  It’s a tasting menu for the ears, the brain, and the heart, and one can dine at this particular restaurant over and over again.  No shock at the multi-digit bill, no caloric woes.

Daryl’s colleagues — in various permutations — are our hero Jon-Erik Kellso on trumpet; Don Vappie on guitar, banjo, and vocal; Jesse Boyd, string bass; Boots Maleson, string bass on RAINBOW HILL only.

They are a splendid crew, but I want to say something about the pianist, who also happens to be Ms. Sherman.  Daryl’s playing here is so fine that I occasionally found myself distracted from what she was singing or one of the instrumentalists was playing to admire its restrained elegance that never lost the beat.  Think, perhaps, of Hank Jones or of Dick Katz.  And when Daryl accompanies herself, she is — without multiple-personality disorder — a pianist who is kind to the singer and a singer who doesn’t overwhelm the pianist.  Her opening instrumental duet with Jon-Erik on the title song is wonderful — the way it should be done.

Then there’s Daryl the composer / lyricist: both selves in evidence on the opening song, THE LAND OF JUST WE TWO, a song that could easily pass as a kinder, gentler Frishbergian romance.  Her lyrics to Turk Mauro’s improvisation over TANGERINE that he called TURKQUOISE are nimble and witty.

There’s Daryl the song-scholar: offering not only the rarely heard verse to STARS FELL ON ALABAMA but the never-heard verse to IF WE NEVER MEET AGAIN, bringing forth Barbara Carroll’s LOST IN A CROWDED PLACE — with sweetly anachronistic lyrics (from 1956) by Irving Caesar that speak of finding a dime for the pay phone — and Billy VerPlanck’s RAINBOW HILL, here offered as a fond tribute to Daryl’s friend, Billy’s wife, singer Marlene.

There’s Daryl the comedienne, never resorting to “humor,” which quickly wears thin, but underpinning her vocal delivery with an unexpressed giggle.  I don’t know that it’s possible to sing and grin simultaneously, but there are places on AT SUNDOWN where I’d swear it was happening, and even more so as Daryl negotiates her way with great style through THE LORELEI.  It’s not comedy, exactly, that uplifts many of the songs on this disc, but it is Daryl’s pleasure at being able to be the vehicle through which the music passes to us. EVERYTHING BUT YOU is not just an Ellington song to her, but a witty, rueful commentary on romance.

Going back to my start: when I first heard MY BLUE HEAVEN, I thought, “This is the way Daryl really sounds in the most welcoming circumstances — no debatable amplification system, no patrons with glasses full of ice, no waitstaff asking, “Who has the parmigiana?”   Her singing on CROWDED PLACE is even more subtly compelling, if that’s possible.  I won’t compare her to other singers: she is herself, and that’s reassuring.  The recording by David Stocker is faithful without being clinical or chilly, so that her remarkable sound — “sounds,” I should say — come through whole.

I would have singers study her phrasing on this disc — that wonderful science of balancing song and conversation, adherence to the melody and improvisation.  How she does it from song to song, from chorus to chorus, is something quite remarkable.

And Daryl presents herself as not “just a singer,” which is to say, someone trained in singing and performance practice who has brought a dozen lead sheets to the studio, but someone with great (quietly dramatic) skill at making each song its own complete emotional and intellectual statement.  Each of the twelve performances is like a fully-realized skit or an aural short story, and no one sounds like the other in some monotonous way.  Consider the sweet — and I mean that word seriously — duet (a duet of many colors, shifting like a long sunset) between Daryl and Don on YOU GO TO MY HEAD, a song that I would have thought done to a crisp, or the HELLO, DOLLY! world Daryl and Co. create on NEW SUN IN THE SKY.  These are memorable performances, each one with its own shadings.  And the mood is often a wise tenderness, something rare and needed in our world.

Daryl’s colleagues are inspiring on their own, but at times rise to new and surprising creative heights.  Boots Maleson is her long-time colleague, and his one offering, RAINBOW HILL, reminds me of  how beautifully he plays, both pizzicato and arco.  More to the forefront is bassist Jesse Boyd, eloquent and swinging.  I have the privilege of seeing and hearing Jon-Erik Kellso often in New York City, and I know him best as the heroic leader of the EarRegulars, but here he is a superb accompanist as well as delivering some melodic choruses that startled me with their beauty, or providing the perfect echoes in THE LORELEI.  I’d only known Don Vappie at a distance, but his rhythm guitar is more than welcome, his solos remind me of a down-home Charlie Byrd, his banjo is splendid, and his vocal duet on YOU GO TO MY HEAD is touching, loose, and inspiring.  Fine incisive notes by Carol Sloane, who knows, also.

But this is Daryl’s masterful offering.  I only apologize for writing at such length that some readers might have been delayed from purchasing several copies.  LOST IN A CROWDED PLACE is that rewarding, and you can purchase it here.  Thank you, Daryl.

May your happiness increase!

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THE PURSUIT OF HAPPINESS, 1944

A simple song about a universal, deep desire — by Vincent Youmans and Irving Caesar.  The melody is very unadorned, as are the lyrics: qualities that would make it memorable to a large popular audience and also great material for jazz improvisers.  It was recorded frequently when it was a new pop song, then given new life by Benny Goodman, his orchestra, and other Swing Era bands.

In my time, I’ve seen leaders call I WANT TO BE HAPPY when they want a trustworthy up-tempo song, often to close a set.  I remember Wild Bill Davison announcing the title and then leering at the audience, “Don’t we ALL?”  Kenny Davern, more an intellectual comedian, would conjugate the statement in a half-Yiddish inflection, “I vant to be happy, he vants to be happy . . . ” and then trail off amidst the audience’s laughter.

Here is a particularly memorable 1944 version, showing that a good melody has its own immortality, especially when explored by brilliant improvisers who never lose sight of the melody’s validity: the Commodore Records classic (from a long session with many alternate takes) featuring Edmond Hall, Teddy Wilson, Billy Taylor, Arthur Trappier (July 20).  It is easy to take this superficially as a version of a Goodman small group because of the uplifting presence of Wilson, but Hall and Wilson had been working together at Cafe Society for some time.

The YouTube presenter has gotten the date wrong and provides no data; instead there is a constant flow of often irrelevant photographs, but the music is what matters.

And what music!  It’s really a simple recording — a worked-out introduction, a chorus for Hall, one for the rhythm section, another for Hall (low-register with the bridge for bassist Taylor) one for the rhythm section with the bridge for Trappier on brushes, then a quartet improvisation, everyone more intense but hardly louder, ending with no dramatics.  I marvel at Edmond’s tone in all his registers, his easy facility that is allied to great quiet intensity; the depth of Wilson’s harmonic inventions that are always moving — he never puts a foot wrong but nothing seems worked-out — and the solid sweet push of Taylor and Trappier.

It’s a remarkable recording because it never tugs at the listener’s sleeve to say LOOK HOW REMARKABLE WE ARE.  (However, if one hears it through a fog of multi-tasking, it might become background music — what we used to call “elevator music,” which would be a shame.)

This was the peak of a particular style (still practiced beautifully today): swinging melodic inventiveness in solo and ensemble.  There really is no way that a listener could improve on this group effort, and I whimsically theorize that Bird and Dizzy went their own ways because this style, these individualistic players, had so polished this kind of jazz that there was no way to better it without breaking out of it.

We still want to be happy, and music like this points the way, if only we take the time to immerse ourselves in it.

May your happiness increase!

GLENN CRYTZER’S PEGU CLUB ALL-STARS (Part Two): MIKE DAVIS, TOM ABBOTT, TAL RONEN (July 26, 2015)

waitin-for-katy-mel-thompson

Before you begin, here‘s Part One: NIGHT AND DAY, IS IT TRUE WHAT THEY SAY ABOUT DIXIE?, and MY HONEY’S LOVIN’ ARMS.

Pegu club cocktail

Delicious-looking, isn’t it?  But let’s talk about music.

A delicious place and delicious music: the Pegu Club, named for a famous gin-based cocktail (London dry gin, bitters, lime juice, orange curacao, for the curious, served in what we once called Burma, is located at 77 West Houston Street, one floor up.

Glenn Crytzer PCAS

On Sunday evenings from 6:30 to 9:30, guitarist / singer / composer Glenn Crytzer leads a quartet — its personnel varies from week to week — that offers an unusually wide-ranging jazz repertoire in the most comfortable surroundings.

On July 26, the three members besides Glenn were Tal Ronen, string bass; Tom Abbott, reeds, Mike Davis, trumpet.  Here four more highlights of their very refreshing first set.

WAITIN’ FOR KATY (memories of Ben Pollack and a young Benny Goodman and of romantic encounters that don’t quite work — summed up so poignantly in the bridge.  Katy or Katie was otherwise occupied and I think she stood up our young man).  Thank you, Glenn, for introducing me to the verse, too:

GET OUT AND GET UNDER THE MOON:

POOR BUTTERFLY:

HOW ABOUT YOU

HOW ABOUT YOU? (a gorgeous Burton Lane tune with sweet lyrics by Ralph Freed — the voice in my mind is Judy’s — that I’ve heard no other group play):

Glenn has very thoughtfully laid out the schedule of players here so you can plan your Sunday post-brunch-before-facing-that-tomorrow-will-be-Monday descent back in to reality.  I plan to visit there again.  It’s a delightful spot.

May your happiness increase!

GLENN CRYTZER’S PEGU CLUB ALL-STARS (Part One): MIKE DAVIS, TOM ABBOTT, TAL RONEN (July 26, 2015)

Pegu club cocktail

A delicious place and delicious music: the Pegu Club, named for a famous gin-based cocktail (London dry gin, bitters, lime juice, orange curacao, for the curious, served in what we once called Burma, is located at 77 West Houston Street, New York City, one floor up. Glenn Crytzer PCAS

On Sunday evenings from 6:30 to 9:30, guitarist / singer / composer Glenn Crytzer leads a quartet — its personnel varies from week to week — that offers an unusually wide-ranging jazz repertoire in the most comfortable surroundings.

On July 26, the three members besides Glenn were Tal Ronen, string bass; Tom Abbott, reeds, Mike Davis, trumpet.  Here are three highlights of their very refreshing first set.

First, a song that is an admitted “classic” of “The Great American Songbook,” but one I’ve never heard a jazz group play in live performance in the preceding decade of intense listening.  What a delight to hear NIGHT AND DAY:

Something almost as rare, although Mike likes this song and has performed it at other gigs — the 1936 IS IT TRUE WHAT THEY SAY ABOUT DIXIE? by Gerald Marks, Sammy Lerner, and Irving Caesar.  1936 was late to be writing a song about people eating possum [this is the first mention of possum in more than seven years of JAZZ LIVES — make of that what you will].  The cover of the sheet music shows Al Jolson in blackface in a characteristic gesture, a picture I thought the world didn’t need.  So it’s not hard to imagine Jolson saying, “I need another song with Dixie in it,” although he didn’t cut himself in on this one. A catchy melody nonetheless:

MY HONEY’S LOVIN’ ARMS — associated with Bing and Eddie Condon — played beautifully here:

Glenn has very thoughtfully laid out the schedule of players here so you can plan your Sunday post-brunch-before-facing-that-tomorrow-will-be-Monday descent back in to reality.  I plan to visit there again.  It’s a delightful spot.  And there’s more to come from this rewarding first set.

May your happiness increase!

A LOVE-DRAMA IN THREE ACTS, CREATED AND PERFORMED BY WESLA WHITFIELD and MIKE GREENSILL (Sept. 20, 2013)

I am now honored to present a love-drama in three acts — three moving musical performances by the irreplaceable duet of Wesla Whitfield (song, voice) and Mike Greensill (song, piano) — recorded on September 20, 2013, at Jazz at Chautauqua — now renamed the Allegheny Jazz Party.

Here, Wesla and Mike move through three moods of Amour:

Sweet wistful yearning for the Ideal.  

Erotic transports, enacted and imagined.  

The sadness when the relationship has faded.

Their script is musical and lyrical, sweetly intense no matter what the emotions depicted, with not a note out of place or a gesture too broad. Three dear dramas, knit together subtly yet powerfully.

They do this by reinventing three beloved songs: one, a pop hit from the 1946; a two, 1922 Youmans / Caesar song so venerable that it gets taken for granted; three, the mournful Bernstein / Comden / Green classic from ON THE TOWN:

A SUNDAY KIND OF LOVE:

TEA FOR TWO:

SOME OTHER TIME:

Whitfield and Greensill, master musicians, subtle dramatists, wise psychologists. There’s no one like them.

May your happiness increase!