Tag Archives: Jazz At Chautauqua

ANOTHER “MONDAY DATE” TO REMEMBER: TOM PLETCHER, DAN BARRETT, BOB REITMEIER, JIM DAPOGNY, FRANK TATE, PETE SIERS (Jazz at Chautauqua, September 2009)

Yesterday I published a post where four wonderful musicians — Eddy Davis, Conal Fowkes, Jon-Erik Kellso, and Evan Arntzen — improvised on OUR MONDAY DATE in December 2019 at Cafe Bohemia in Greenwich Village, New York City.  You can enjoy it here.  And I hope you do.

A MONDAY DATE has a personal resonance.  It’s not unique to me, but I haven’t had the pleasure of “being on a date” with a tangible person since the end of February (dinner and a festival of short animated films).  For me, songs about dating are poignant and hopeful: such encounters can come again, although the February evening was more short than animated.  Mirror-gazing over. Onwards.

This MONDAY DATE was performed at Jazz at Chautauqua in September 2009, although not on a Monday.  These brilliant players are Tom Pletcher, cornet; Dan Barrett, trombone; Bob Reitmeier, clarinet; Jim Dapogny, piano; Frank Tate, string bass; Pete Siers, drums.  I was, as I have explained elsewhere, shooting video sub rosa without Joe Boughton’s permission, which lends a subversive air to the recording, but I was thrilled it came off, then and now.  It is a special pleasure to hear Jim’s piano ringing through, adding magic.

Jim Dapogny and Tom Pletcher are no longer with us: I’ve written about them here and (with a beautiful long essay by David Jellema) here.  Both posts also have video-recordings of performances you won’t see or hear elsewhere.

A note about “recordings” at Jazz at Chautauqua.  Joe Boughton was enthusiastically kind to me long before we met in person: he recognized that we adored the same music.  When I visited Chautauqua in 2004, he greeted me warmly, and I spent the whole weekend writing about the joys I experienced there, and wrote the program biographies for more than ten years.

Joe had certain aversions, in large type.  The most dramatic was his loathing for over-familiar songs: SATIN DOLL, SWEET GEORGIA BROWN, slow blues, and more.  Musicians who broke this rule were asked not to return — in one case, in the middle of the weekend.  Secondly, although Joe apparently recorded every note of the weekends I came to — someone operated a videocamera high above our heads — he would not tolerate anyone else recording anything, although he let an amateur jazz photographer make low-quality cassettes.  I gave Joe valuable publicity in The Mississippi Rag, which he appreciated: I don’t know whether he saw me with my camera and tacitly accepted it as part of the Michael-bargain or whether he was too busy with the music to notice, but I send him deep gratitude now.  I hope you do also.

May your happiness increase!

JIM DAPOGNY, NOT FORGOTTEN

Jim Dapogny, September 2, 2018, photograph by Laura Beth Wyman (Wyman Video)

He answered to various names.  Jim Dapogny, James Dapogny, Professor Dapogny, “American musicologist,” as an online source calls him.  I prefer to think of him as admired artist, departed friend.

Jim would have turned eighty today, September 3, 2020. He didn’t make it that far, moving somewhere undefined and inaccessible on March 6, 2019.  I have not gotten used to his absence, and I am not alone.  Others knew him better, longer, at closer range, but his absence is something tangible.

I promised myself I would not write a post on the metaphysics of bereavement, but rather offer evidence so those who never heard Jim in person would understand more deeply why he is so missed.

I can’t reproduce here the pleasure of having him speak knowledgeably yet without pretension about the dishes of brightly-colored ethnic food spread in front of us.  Nor can I convey to you his gleaming eyes as he spoke of a favorite dog or the mysterious voicings of a Thirties Ellington record.  And it is beyond my powers to summon up the way he would nearly collapse into giggles while retelling a cherished interlude of stand-up comedy — not a joke, but a presentation — by someone none of us had heard of.

Those who were there will understand the serious yet easy pleasure of his company, the way he was always himself, wise but never insisting that we bow down to his wisdom.  I can only write that he was was boyish in his joys but modest about his own accomplishments, and so gracious in his eager openness to different perspectives.  Those who never had the good fortune of seeing him plain — counting off a tempo by clapping his hands in mid-air, crossing one leg over the other when particularly happy at the keyboard — should know that they missed someone extraordinary.

Jim and I communicated more by email than in any other way, but I did meet him once a year at Jazz at Chautauqua, then the Allegheny Jazz Party, then the Cleveland Classic Jazz Party, from 2004 to 2016, with a year out when he couldn’t join us because of illness.  I made a point of going from New York to Maryland to hear his “East Coast Chicagoans” in 2012, and visited him and dear friends in Ann Arbor a few years later.  It is one of my greatest regrets, on a substantial list, that I never made it back for a return engagement.

Our remarkable friend Laura Beth Wyman caught Jim explaining something to me in the informal classroom of a parking lot at the 2014 Evergreen Jazz Festival, and I treasure this moment:

But let us move out of the parking lot before darkness falls.

Here is Jim, with Mike Karoub, cello; Rod McDonald, guitar; Kurt Krahnke, string bass, performing his own FIREFLY (blessedly captured by Wyman Video):

Jim loved the blues, and enjoyed window-shopping in their apparently austere structure, peering in at unusual angles, so what was expected — nothing more than three chords repeating over twelve bars — was all of a sudden a hand-knit tapestry, subtle but ornamented, full of dips and whorls.

I caught him “warming up the piano” at the 2014 Jazz at Chautauqua, in what I think of as full reverie, monarch of an emotional landscape where he and the blues were the only inhabitants, where he could ignore people walking by, and also ignore my camera.  This, dear readers, is the quiet triumph of thought, of feeling, of beauty:

Here he and beloved colleagues create and recreate the TIN ROOF BLUES (al fresco, in rain or post-rain, at the 2014 Evergreen Jazz Festival): Jon-Erik Kellso, trumpet; Chris Smith, trombone; Kim Cusack, clarinet; Russ Whitman, tenor saxophone; Rod McDonald, guitar; Dean Ross, string bass; Pete Siers, drums:

Jim was thoughtful but not morose.  He delighted in swing and stomp, so here’s COME EASY, GO EASY LOVE, from the same weekend:

One of his set pieces not only was a rousing jam on more austere themes but also a nod to his love of comic surprise, WASHINGTON POST MARCH:

There is much more that could be said, more that can be seen and heard.

But the important thing is this: he remains a model for me and others.  Quietly and without affectation, Jim lived so deeply and generously that we will not forget him nor stop missing him.

May your happiness increase!

A THURSDAY NIGHT, SIX MUSICIANS, SIX MINUTES (September 17, 2009)

I’ve been digging into my archives of performances I video-recorded but hadn’t yet shared, and I have a small jewel for you, from the informal Thursday-night jam sessions at Jazz at Chautauqua, almost eleven years ago.  I had a slightly less sophisticated camera; I’m sitting behind friends . . . but I think those are minor flaws compared to the lovely music.  The song is CHINATOWN; the musicians are Pete Siers, drums; Frank Tate, string bass; Ehud Asherie, piano; Bob Havens, trombone; Dan Block, clarinet; Duke Heitger, trumpet.  And they play.

Won’t you join me?  It’s better than a virtual visit to any non-musical healer.

May your happiness increase!

LIFE, LIBERTY, and the PURSUIT OF SWEETNESS: HARRY ALLEN, DAN BLOCK, BOB HAVENS, DUKE HEITGER, ANDY SCHUMM, RANDY REINHART, ANDY STEIN, ROSSANO SPORTIELLO, MARTY GROSZ, FRANK TATE, JOHN VON OHLEN (Jazz at Chautauqua, Sept. 22, 2013)

Another of the wondrous ballad medleys that used to begin and end the splendid jazz weekend, Jazz at Chautauqua: here, from 2013.  And, because it’s daylight, it was the medley that sent us all home, exhausted by pleasure, on a Sunday afternoon.

The roadmap: After a few of the usual hi-jinks, the rescue squad finds a second microphone for Marty Grosz, Harry Allen plays EASY LIVING; Dan Block, DAY DREAM; Bob Havens essays CAN’T HELP LOVIN’ THAT MAN; Duke Heitger finishes off this segment with I KNOW WHY (And So Do You):

I had to put a new battery in at this point, so I missed a few choruses (you’ll see Dan Levinson leaving the stage — my apologies to Dan and the other musicians I couldn’t capture).

Then, Randy Reiinhart plays MY FUNNY VALENTINE; Andy Schumm follows, politely, with PLEASE; Andy Stein calls for LAURA; Marty takes the stage by himself for the Horace Gerlach classic IF WE NEVER MEET AGAIN; Rossano Sportiello plays SOPHISTICATED LADY, so beautifully:

Those would have been the closing notes of the 2013 Jazz at Chautauqua: another unforgettable interlude of music and friendship.  Bless the musicians, bless the shade of Joe Boughton and bless his living family, bless Nancy Hancock Griffith and Kathy Hancock.  Those experiences are unforgettable evidence that once, such things were beautifully possible, and we witnessed them — me, with a video camera.  How fortunate we were!

May your happiness increase!

 

HER TENDER MAGIC: BECKY KILGORE and FRIENDS (Jazz at Chautauqua, Sept. 21-22, 2012)

Archaeologists always exult over their discoveries — a bone-handled spoon, a bird-skeleton.  Wonderful, I guess.  But when I go back into my YouTube archives, I come up with Rebecca Kilgore and friends touching our hearts.  I’ll trade that for any noseless bust or porcelain ornament.

So very touching: featuring one of the greatest singers I know in a September 21st late-night set with Duke Heitger’s Swing Band at Jazz at Chautauqua: the other members of the Band are Dan Barrett, trombone; Dan Block, alto saxophone; Scott Robinson, tenor saxophone; Mike Greensill, piano; Howard Alden, guitar; Kerry Lewis, string bass; Bill Ransom, drums:

And the next night, Becky sent the Fellows off so that she and Keith Ingham could perform IT’S ALWAYS YOU, a 1941 Jimmy Van Heusen – Johnny Burke song from THE ROAD TO ZANZIBAR, song — of course — by Mr. Crosby to Ms. Lamour:

Such lovely sounds — beyond compare for knowing sweetness.

May your happiness increase!

“HAPPY MEMORIES”: JON-ERIK KELLSO, BOB HAVENS, DAN BLOCK, JOHN SHERIDAN, TOM BOGARDUS, KERRY LEWIS, PETE SIERS (Jazz at Chautauqua, September 21, 2013)

The music that follows requires some prelude.  It was created at the now-legendary Jazz at Chautauqua, almost seven years ago — which seems like several lifetimes.  The founder and imperial monarch of this jazz weekend, Joe Boughton, responsible for so many hours and days of wonderful jazz music, loathed what he thought of as overplayed repertoire.  SWEET GEORGIA BROWN was forbidden; A GARDEN IN THE RAIN was bliss.  Not for him Hot Lips Page’s ecumenical idea, “The material is immaterial.”  But, whether it was Jon-Erik Kellso’s idea or Joe’s, a set called “‘WAY DOWN YONDER IN NEW ORLEANS,” its repertoire consisting of well-worn Bourbon Street favorites, happened.  And it was wonderful.

The regular band was Pete Siers, drums; Kerry Lewis, string bass; John Sheridan, piano; Dan Block, clarinet; Bob Havens, trombone; Jon-Erik Kellso,  trumpet.  But one of Jon-Erik’s Michigander friends, the fine multi-instrumentalist — clarinet, soprano saxophone, banjo, tenor guitar and perhaps more — Tom Bogardus, was also at Chautauqua, and Jon-Erik not only invited him to join in for this set, but Howard Alden generously lent Tom his tenor banjo and Tom added so much to the sound.  He told me recently, “This was a big night in my musical career, getting to play with these outstanding musicians in today’s jazz. I am so thankful that Jon-Erik asked me and Howard Alden let me use his banjo. Now I have video proof.  It’s a 4 string tenor banjo with traditional tenor tuning. I think it’s a Bacon & Day, but am not sure.”

Before we move on to the music, a small — possibly irrelevant — personal note.  I sat at my table with my video camera on a tripod, as if it were my date, and the world of people talking, getting up for drink refills, and having dinner happily swirled around me.  So the first voice you will hear on the first video is the amiable waitperson asking me, as they are trained to do, if I was finished, “Can I take that away for you?  Are you through?” which is really, “Let me get all the dishes off the tables as we are required to do,” and my response — I am proud to say, not in a snarl, “No.”  My people have certain boundary issues: “Touch my food if I haven’t offered it to you, and I will be unhappy,” which is why I weigh more now than in 2013.  But I digress.

‘WAY DOWN YONDER IN NEW ORLEANS:

BASIN STREET BLUES, featuring Bob Havens:

MUSKRAT RAMBLE:

DO YOU KNOW WHAT IT MEANS TO MISS NEW ORLEANS?:

and a quick set-closer, SOUTH RAMPART STREET PARADE:

Alas, Jazz at Chautauqua and its successors, the Allegheny Jazz Party and the Cleveland Classic Jazz Party, are no more, but we have our happy memories and these videos.  Incidentally, when I asked Jon-Erik for permission to post these videos, “Happy memories!” is what he said.  So true.  Thanks to the musicians, to Joe Boughton and all his family, to Nancy Hancock Griffith and Kathy Hancock.  And to my polite waitperson: can’t forget her.

May your happiness increase!

“SAY THAT EVERYTHING IS STILL OKAY”: REBECCA KILGORE, HARRY ALLEN, BOB HAVENS, FRANK TATE, JOHN SHERIDAN (Jazz at Chautauqua, September 20, 2012)

I have little to complain about in tangible things, but today’s mood is such that this meme (courtesy of dear friend Amy King) provoked rueful laughter and recognition:

Those of you who don’t know what a “meme” is can dial one of the grandkids.  “Kinky,” you’re on your own.

Today I thought that cheerful hot music would be out of place, so here is a beautifully rueful creation.

The superficial portrait of Irving Berlin is that he wrote cheerful music, with exceptions like WHAT’LL I DO? and REMEMBER.  But he is also powerfully poignant about romance that has deflated or perished, as in SAY IT ISN’T SO — its title characteristically taken from a popular conversational phrase.  But when Becky Kilgore and her lightly swinging friends approach it, the sadness is balanced against the gentle motion of the beat, everyone’s personal phrasing.  Her friends are Harry Allen, tenor saxophone; Bob Havens, trombone; John Sheridan, piano; Frank Tate, string bass.

This performance magically unfolded in front of us (and my camera) on Thursday night, September 20, 2012, at the informal session that began Jazz at Chautauqua at the Hotel Athenaeum.  Fabled times, lovely music.

May your happiness increase!

I FEEL SUCH A THRILL (Jazz at Chautauqua, Sept. 22, 2012)

This one’s for my friend Sarah Boughton Holt and brothers Bill and David — another glorious performance from the memorable Jazz at Chautauqua weekends created and overseen by Joe Boughton.

What would a jazz festival be without a tribute to Horace Gerlach — that is also an evocation of Louis Armstrong? Here are just the people to do it in their own way: Duke Heitger, trumpet, Dan Block, clarinet and vocal, Scott Robinson, tenor saxophone and taragoto; Dan Barrett, trombone; Mike Greensill, piano; Howard Alden, guitar; Kerry Lewis, string bass; Bill Ransom, drums.

I love Dan Block’s crooning (what a fine singer he is!) and the riffs that make this a BAND rather than an all-star collation of soloists waiting for their solo turns:

How fortunate we were to be there.  Share some of that good fortune with people who like it Hot.

May your happiness increase!


IT SIMPLY MUST BE JELLY: REBECCA KILGORE, HOWARD ALDEN, KERRY LEWIS, ROSSANO SPORTIELLO, RICKY MALACHI, DUKE HEITGER, DAN BARRETT, SCOTT ROBINSON (September 20, 2012: Jazz at Chautauqua)

Yes, the ceilings leaked at the Athenaeum Hotel in Chautauqua, New York, and every year there were new Rorschach-blot patterns (is that a bird, a monkey, or a shapely leg?) above me.  The venerable elevator provoked anxiety.  But inside this hotel, one September weekend, starting for me in 2004, some of the best music I’ve ever witnessed was created for us, thanks to a stunning assortment of musicians.  Here’s a lovely interlude; watching it, I rub my eyes: did such things happen? Well, thank the Goddess for video evidence that I can share with you.

There will of course be debate over Jelly Roll Morton’s birthdate — September or October 20? — but there should be no debating the beauty of this performance, another treasure from the 2020 JAZZ LIVES Archaeological Dig. Here’s our Becky — Rebecca Kilgore — subtly embracing the song as only she can — with the noble help of Ricky Malachi, drums; Kerry Lewis, string bass; Howard Alden, guitar; Rossano Sportiello, piano; Scott Robinson, clarinet; Dan Barrett, trombone; Duke Heitger, trumpet.

Don’t want no regular!

Thanks not only to the musicians, but to the Emperor of it all, Joe Boughton, his family (hello to Sarah, Bill, and David!) and his friendly Chiefs of Staff and Official Diplomats, Nancy Hancock Griffith and Kathy Hancock.  Moments like this vibrate in the memory.

May your happiness increase!

A SHIELD AGAINST BAD LUCK: A SONG BY EUBIE BLAKE and ANDY RAZAF, featuring DAN BARRETT, HOWARD ALDEN, KEITH INGHAM, FRANK TATE, PETE SIERS, DAN BLOCK, BOB REITMEIER, TOM PLETCHER (Jazz at Chautauqua, September 19, 2009)

For context, you need to hear the lyrics to this song before we proceed — sung by one of the most influential and perhaps least-credited singers ever.  Incidentally, the personnel is not identified in my discography.  If Brian Nalepka reads this, I wonder if he hears that strong bass as Joe Tarto’s:

If you want to play that again, I don’t mind.  Go ahead: we’ll wait.

But here’s something only the people at Jazz at Chautauqua in September 19, 2009, got to hear and see.  This amiably trotting performance, led by trombonist Dan Barrett, also features Tom Pletcher, cornet; Keith Ingham, piano; Howard Alden, guitar; Dan Block, tenor saxophone; Bob Reitmeier, clarinet, Frank Tate, string bass; Pete Siers, drums.  Video by Michael sub rosa Steinman, lighting by Henry “Red” Allen:

I hope you go away humming this song, and that the affectionate hopeful music is good protection against all those nasty things we are reading about now.  The music and the musicians are — seriously — lucky to us.  (So, next time some players and singers offer their hearts and language “for free” online, toss something larger than an aging Oreo in the tip jar, please.)

May your happiness increase!

 

BEAUTY AND THE BLUES: JOE WILDER, HARRY ALLEN, ROSSANO SPORTIELLO, JON BURR (Jazz at Chautauqua, September 17, 2009)

I offer you the second part of a glorious informal session from Thursday night, September 17, 2009 at Jazz at Chautauqua — a quartet of lyrical melodists: Joe Wilder, trumpet and flugelhorn; Harry Allen, tenor saxophone; Rossano Sportiello, piano; Jon Burr, string bass.  Here is the first part of the evening’s festivities: DON’T BLAME ME, ‘DEED I DO, and JUST SQUEEZE ME.

Mr.Wilder, himself: characteristically cheerful and beautifully dressed:

Messrs. Allen, Burr, and Wilder.  You’ll hear Fratello Sportiello soon:

Here is music to delight the angels, Joe’s EMBRACEABLE YOU:

and the Basie-flavored protestation of good humor, I AIN’T MAD AT YOU:

How fortunate I was to be there, and (without self-congratulation, I hope) how fortunate that I had a camera.  Bless these four brilliant modest luminaries.  In my thoughts, I embrace them all.

May your happiness increase!

BEAUTY NEEDS NO WORDS: JOE WILDER AND HOWARD ALDEN (Jazz at Chautauqua, September 19, 2009)

O rare and floating sounds!

Even at 10:30 in the morning, the great artists create lovely subtle art — as did Howard Alden, guitar, and Joe Wilder, trumpet and flugelhorn.  This telepathic pair made beauty tangible at the Jazz at Chautauqua weekend in mid-September 2009, and I am delighted to be able to present two duets.

People who knew Joe well will also notice his uncharacteristically informal attire — one of the few times he was ever seen without a suit and tie — and I delight, on SAMBA, that he is using his green plastic cup (‘from the five and ten,” he told me) as a mute.

My videos are characteristically imperfect, even more so because I was not supposed to be shooting them: people pass by and pause, and I think my camera rises and falls with my breathing.  But I’d rather have these moments, preserved.

SECRET LOVE, made famous by Doris Day in 1953:

Luiz Bonfa’s SAMBA DE ORFEU, from the film BLACK ORPHEUS:

Howard has been incredibly gracious about allowing me to video-record him and then to post selected performances: if you search JAZZ LIVES posts, he is part of more than one hundred.  Joe appeared most recently in a 2009 session with Rossano Sportiello, Harry Allen, and Jon Burr, and the first part is here.  Bless them both.

May your happiness increase!

“THE MYSTICAL MOIST NIGHT AIR”: PETRA van NUIS, ANDY BROWN, CHUCK WILSON, DAN BLOCK, KEITH INGHAM, ARNIE KINSELLA, VINCE GIORDANO (Jazz at Chautauqua, September 20, 2009)

With the frightening turmoil on land occupying my thought, the night sky seems a peaceful refuge, and Whitman’s WHEN I HEARD THE LEARN’D ASTRONOMER comes to mind:

When I heard the learn’d astronomer,
When the proofs, the figures, were ranged in columns before me,
When I was shown the charts and diagrams, to add, divide, and measure them,
When I sitting heard the astronomer where he lectured with much applause in the lecture-room,
How soon unaccountable I became tired and sick,
Till rising and gliding out I wander’d off by myself,
In the mystical moist night-air, and from time to time,
Look’d up in perfect silence at the stars.

Whitman approved of song — hence the title of his greatest work: I don’t think he would have turned away from the melodies I present here, delicious treasures from a vanished — but sweetly remembered — time and place.  And the poem speaks of savoring experience deeply, which is what the musicians we love both accomplish and share with us.

Here are two lovely musical vignettes from Sunday morning at Jazz at Chautauqua.  The first, Petra van Nuis and Andy Brown, dear friends, musing through the Burke-Van Heusen MOONLIGHT BECOMES YOU:

Then, Dan Block, tenor saxophone; Chuck Wilson, so deeply missed, alto saxophone; Keith Ingham, piano; Arnie Kinsella, drums; Vince Giordano, looking up at the meteor shower that gave birth to STARS FELL ON ALABAMA:

Tonight, immerse yourself in the night sky if you can.  Such vistas heal.

May your happiness increase!

BOB HAVENS SHOWS US HOW: JAMES DAPOGNY, VINCE GIORDANO, ARNIE KINSELLA (Jazz at Chautauqua, September 2009)

I take my title from what Bobby Hackett told Max Jones about his friend Jack Teagarden, “The Good Lord said to Jack, ‘Now you go down there and show them how to do it.”  (I am paraphrasing, because the book, TALKING JAZZ, is hiding from me.)

My subject is one of Jack’s noble colleagues, the trombonist Bob Havens, born May 3, 1930, in Quincy, Illinois — thus seventy-nine in the performance I will share with you, which he created at the 2009 Jazz at Chautauqua weekend — with Arnie Kinsella, drums; Vince Giordano, string bass; James Dapogny, piano.  The song Havens chose for his feature is the venerable IDA, SWEET AS APPLE CIDER, which has its jazz immortality due to the 1927 Red Nichols recording featuring Adrian Rollini and Pee Wee Russell along with Red and Miff Mole.  Bob’s performance is three choruses, a continuing amazement.

Bob Havens, 2016

What strikes me immediately is the serious ease with which Bob approaches the melody, not rushing, not being in a hurry to get to the “hot” part, but playing it, slightly embellished, in his first chorus.

His tone.  His huge sound — a sound on which you could build your church.  His generous but intelligently applied phrase-ending vibrato.  His complete command of the trombone in all registers.  And, for me, that first chorus is a complete meal in itself, so beautifully offered.  But to look at the video and know, as I do, that there are two more choruses that will follow leaves me nearly open-mouthed.

Please, on your second and third viewing, and there should be occasions to revisit this splendor, savor the solid drumming of Arnie Kinsella, who knew how to play simply but with great soul; the delicious supportive work of Vince Giordano, who knows not only the right notes but where they should fall and how; James Dapogny’s intuitive embrace of both the soloist and the music in every phrase.

Bob’s turning-the-corner into his second chorus is exultant: now this is serious business, his shouting announcement seems to say.  I’ve laid out the melody, now let me show you what I can do with it.  Only a trombonist could explicate the dazzling variety of technical acrobatics — all beautifully in service of the song — Bob creates in that chorus, ending with a bluesy flourish.  And the third chorus is a magnificent extension of what has come before, with technique and taste strolling hand in hand.  (Again, no one in this quartet of masters rushes.)  Admire the structure, variations on variations, as simplicity gives way to complexity but the simplicity — IDA is a love song! — remains beneath.  Bob’s virtuosity is amazing, super-Teagarden thirty stories up, but his pyrotechnics never obscure emotions, and his sound never thins or becomes hard.

I invite you to admire someone who astonishes, who gives us great gifts.

What glorious music. in some ways, beyond my words.

This post is in honor of my Auntie, Ida Melrose Shoufler, the young trombone whiz and friend Joe McDonough, and Nancy Hancock Griffith, who made so much beauty possible.

May your happiness increase!

THE MELODIES LINGER ON (Part One): JOE WILDER, HARRY ALLEN, ROSSANO SPORTIELLO, JON BURR (Jazz at Chautauqua, September 17, 2009)

I could introduce this post in several ways: a reference to Irving Berlin’s THE SONG  IS ENDED in my title, a memory of Faulkner’s character Gavin Stevens, “The past isn’t dead; it’s not even past,” or perhaps Shelley:

Music, when soft voices die,
Vibrates in the memory—

All true.  But I’d prefer to start with the mundane before presenting magical vibrating sounds.  I have spent more than a month in the emotion-charged task of tidying my apartment.  No sandwiches under the bed — in my world, food gets eaten — or inches of dust, since I do know how to use standard cleaning tools (even when I neglect to).  It is more a matter of sifting through things that had been put into piles “for when I have time,” which I now do.  And I was rewarded by objects I once thought lost coming back to me of their own accord.

One such delight is an assortment of videos, created but now often forgotten, that I had shot at Jazz at Chautauqua: I’ve shared some of them already: fourteen such postings since February 2018: search for “Chautauqua” and they will jump into your lap.

But here are three “new” previously unseen masterpieces from the informal Thursday-night session at Chautauqua — by a quartet of subtle wizards of melody, Harry Allen, tenor saxophone; Rossano Sportiello, piano; Jon Burr, string bass.  And Joe Wilder, not the young hero of the Fifties but — if possible — more subtle, more deep, more able to touch our hearts.

The videos aren’t perfect.  The piano could have been tuned more recently.  Heads are in the way, some famous, and the image I achieved with that camera is not perfectly sharp.  DON’T BLAME ME ends abruptly and incompletely — my fault.  But I marvel at the music and hope you will also.

‘DEED I DO, where Joe leaps in exuberantly:

JUST SQUEEZE ME:

I am saving the closing two performances from this session for another post: it would not be right to choke you with an excess of beauty all at once.  And when I think about the blessings of the second half of my life, I include the friendly respect of the musicians here — the gracious living trio and Joe.  When I think that Joe spoke to me, wrote to me, and laughed with me, my joy and awe are immense . . . but he extended the gift of his warm self to so many, I know I am not unique.

This post is sent as a gift to Solveig Wilder.  And it is dedicated to the memory of Ed Berger and Joe Boughton, each of whom made beauty possible.

May your happiness increase!

BORN ON THE 28th of FEBRUARY

We know many people born on February 28th.  However, we know a much smaller number born on that date in 1930.  And there is only ONE Martin Oliver Grosz, who will thus turn ninety in a few days.

Marty won’t read this post, so I will spare him and all of us a lengthy explication of his particular virtues.  But let me inform you about a few events related to his birthday . . . and then there will be a reward for those with high reading comprehension skills.  “Three ways,” not chili . . . but a book and two parties.  And patient readers will find another reward, of a particularly freakish nature, at the end of this post.

Marty has talked about writing his autobiography for years now (I was almost a collaborator, although not in the wartime sense) — he has stories!  And the book has finally happened, thanks to the Golden Alley Press, with the really splendid editorship of Joe Plowman, whom we know more as a superb musician.  Great photos, and it’s a pleasure to look at as well as read.

 

The book is entertaining, readable, funny, and revealing — with stories about people you wouldn’t expect (Chet Baker!).  It sounds like Marty, because the first half is a tidied-up version of his own story, written in longhand — with elegant calligraphy — on yellow legal paper.  I’m guessing that a few of the more libelous bits have been edited out, but we know there are severe laws about such things and paper is flammable.

The second part of the book, even more vividly, is a stylishly done series of interviews with Marty — a real and sometimes startlingly candid pleasure.  I’ve followed Marty musically for more than twenty-five years and have had conversations with him for two decades . . . this, as he would say, is the real breadstick, and I learned a great deal I hadn’t already known.  More information here and here.  The official publication date is March 4, but you can pre-order the book from several of the usual sites — as noted above.

And two musical events — Marty encompasses multitudes, so he gets two parties.

One will take place at the Hopewell Valley Bistro, tomorrow at 6 PM, where Marty will be joined by Danny Tobias, Scott Robinson, and Gary Cattley, for an evening of swing and badinage, sometimes with the two combined.  Details here.  And on March 4, another extravaganza — at the World Cafe Live in Philadelphia, with what used to be called “an all-star cast”: Vince Giordano, Danny Tobias, Scott Robinson, Dan Block, Randy Reinhart, Joe Plowman, Jim Lawlor, Jack Saint Clair, and I would guess some surprise guests.  Details here.  Even though I am getting on a plane the next morning to fly to Monterey for the Jazz Bash by the Bay, I am going to this one.  You should too!

Now, the unearthed treasure . . . for all the Freaks in the house, as Louis would say, a congregation in which I happily include myself.  I’ve written elsewhere of taking sub rosa videos at the 2007 and 2008 Jazz at Chautauqua weekend ecstasies, and I recently dug out this spiritual explosion.  The camerawork is shaky and vague (I was shooting into bright light), but the music is life-enhancing.  Even the YouTube Disliker is quietly applauding:

Let us celebrate Marty Grosz.  He continues to be completely Himself, which is a fine thing.  With Dispatch and Vigor, Fats, Al Casey, and Red McKenzie looking on approvingly.

May your happiness increase!

THE ART OF THE RHYTHM BALLAD: MARTY GROSZ, DAN BARRETT, ROSSANO SPORTIELLO, HOWARD ALDEN, DAN BLOCK, KERRY LEWIS, PETE SIERS (Jazz at Chautauqua, September 21, 2012)

We all know what a ballad is — a rhapsodic experience, possibly melancholy, played or sung slowly.  But a “rhythm ballad” is something created in the Thirties: a sweet ballad played at a danceable tempo, so that you and your honey could swoon while doing those steps you had practiced at home.  Even when the lyrics described heartbreak, those performances had a distinct pulse, or as Marty Grosz says below, “I gotta wake up.”  Here are some moving examples of the form, performed during the closing ballad medley at Jazz at Chautauqua in September 2012.  First, Marty evokes 1931 Bing Crosby, then Rossano Sportiello honors Hoagy Carmichael, and Dan Barrett tenderly expresses a wish for gentle romantic possession:

Howard Alden’s melodic exposition of an early-Fifties pop hit:

Finally, Dan Block — incapable of playing dull notes — woos us in a Johnny Hodges reverie over imagined real estate:

It’s appropriate that this post begins with THANKS — words cannot convey my gratitude to these artists who continue to enrich our lives.  And I am particularly grateful to those who allowed me to aim a camera at them . . . so that we can all enjoy the results.

May your happiness increase!

“ASSES IN SEATS” AND THE JAZZ ECOSYSTEM

Here’s something comfortable, enticing, seductive.

It’s not my living room, I assure you: too neat, no CDs.

Jon-Erik Kellso, trumpet; Chuck Wilson, alto saxophone; Ehud Asherie, piano; Kelly Friesen, string bass; Andrew Swann, drums.  “Sweet Rhythm,” October 26, 2008, THERE’LL BE SOME CHANGES MADE:

Tal Ronen, string bass; Mark Shane, piano; Dan Block, tenor sax.  “Casa Mezcal,” October 26, 2014, I’LL ALWAYS BE IN LOVE WITH YOU:

(This is not a post about numerology or the significance of October 26 in jazz.)

Tim Laughlin, clarinet; Connie Jones, cornet; Clint Baker, trombone; Chris Dawson, piano; Katie Cavera, guitar; Marty Eggers, string bass; Hal Smith, drums.  “Sweet and Hot Music Festival,”  September 5, 2011, TOGETHER:

Ray Skjelbred and the Cubs: Ray, piano, composer; Kim Cusack, clarinet; Clint Baker, string bass, Katie Cavera, guitar; Jeff Hamilton, drums. “Sacramento Music Festival,” May 25, 2014, BLUES FOR SIR CHARLES:

I will explain.

“Sweet Rhythm” was once “Sweet Basil,” a restaurant-with-jazz or the reverse, in New York City.  Now it is just a restaurant.  “Casa Mezcal,” across the street from the Tenement Museum, also offered jazz as well as food.  Now, only food.  The two California festivals depicted above are only memories now.  (I could have included the Cajun, Bourbon Street, Roth’s Steakhouse, Banjo Jim’s, the Garage, the Bombay Club, Jazz at Chautauqua, and perhaps a dozen other vacancies in the cosmos — in my time, which isn’t the whole history of the music.)  Jazz clubs become apartments, drugstores, dormitories, nail salons.  Or what was once a jazz bar now has karaoke night and game night.

That’s not difficult to take in.  Everything changes.  “Things are tough all over,” as my father said.

But I’ve included the chair and ottoman because so many jazz listeners prefer the comforts of home to live music, and thus, venues collapse and are not replaced.

The expression I’ve heard from festival producers is the blunt ASSES IN SEATS. It presumes that other body parts are attached to the asses, of course.  But it’s simple economics.  When a club owner looks out at the landscape of empty chairs and tables with napkins undisturbed, when there are more musicians on the stage than there are people in the audience, you can imagine the mental cogitations that result.  This has nothing to do with musical or artistic quality — I’ve heard terrible music played to filled rooms, and once in a New York club I was the audience (let that sink in) — not even me, myself, and I — for the first few songs by a peerless band.  And if you think that musicians are a substantial part of the club budget, it isn’t so: a world-famous jazz musician told me once of being paid sixty dollars for three hours’ work, and some of my favorite musicians go from fifty-and-seventy-five dollar gigs, or they play “for the door.”

And as an aside, if you go to a club and sit through two sets with your three-or-five dollar Coke or well drink or standard beer, you are subsidizing neither the club or the music.  Festival economics are different, but even the price of the ticket will not keep huge enterprises solvent.  I hear, “Oh, the audience for jazz is aging and dying,” and the numbers prove that true, but I think inertia is a stronger factor than mortality, with a side dish of complacency.  And people who study the swing-dance scene say that what I am writing about here is also true for younger fans / dancers.

So before you say to someone, “I’m really a devoted jazz fan,” or proudly wear the piano-keyboard suspenders, or get into arguments on Facebook over some cherished premise, ask yourself, “How active is my commitment to this music?  When was the last time I supported it with my wallet and my person?”

I do not write these words from the summit of moral perfection.  I could have gone to two gigs tonight but chose to stay home and write this blog.  And I do not go to every gig I could . . . energy and health preclude that.  And I am also guilty, if you will, in providing musical nourishment for viewers through technology, so that some people can live through YouTube.  I admit both of these things, but on the average I go to more jazz gigs than some other people; I eat and drink and tip at the jazz clubs; I publicize the music here and elsewhere.

But you.  Do you take the music for granted, like air and water?  Do you assume it will go on forever even if you never come out of your burrow and say hello to it, that other people will keep supporting it?  Do you say, “I must get there someday!” and not put wheels under that wish?  Mind you, there are exceptions.  Not everyone lives close enough to live music; not everyone is well-financed, energetic, or healthy.  But if you can go and you don’t, then to me you have lost the right to complain about clubs closing, your favorite band disbanding, your beloved festival becoming extinct. Jazz is a living organism, thus it needs nourishment that you, and only you, can provide.  Inhaling Spotify won’t keep it alive, nor will complaining about how your fellow citizens are too foolish to appreciate it.

If you say you love jazz, you have to get your ass out of your chair at regular intervals and put it in another chair, somewhere public, where living musicians are playing and singing.  Or you can stay home and watch it wither.

May your happiness increase!

JAMES DAPOGNY IN RECITAL (Jazz at Chautauqua, September 20, 2013)

James Dapogny at Jazz at Chautauqua, Sept. 2014. Photograph by Michael Steinman.

During the annual jazz weekend that was once Jazz at Chautauqua, Friday afternoon sessions in the lobby of the Athenaeum Hotel were devoted to compact piano (and once, guitar) recitals.

Now that James Dapogny is no longer with us, this two-part serenade from 2013 is infinitely precious.  To be accurate, it was precious then, but our assumption that we would always have the Prof. with us, to entertain and enlighten, may have shaped our judgment.  Now we know.

Perhaps only those people who knew Jim, even slightly, will recognize what a treasure this video-capture is; for the rest, it will be another jazz pianist exploring the world of music in his own terms — which, in its own way, is also irreplaceable.

To the music.  Jim’s “fooling with an old tune” was an improvisation on LINGER AWHILE, that finally got written down as I CAN WAIT in late 2018 (Jim told my dear friend Laura Wyman that it had been percolating for a long time, and he wanted to get it down on paper before he died).  In my mind’s ear I hear I CAN WAIT arranged for Teddy Wilson-style small group — although no orchestra is needed here because Prof. Dapogny’s piano playing is so richly layered.

Then, an extended improvisation on William H. Tyers’ MAORI (which only Ellington and Soprano Summit ever performed: Tyers is famous as the composer of PANAMA).  This performance is hypnotic in the way some of Morton’s Library of Congress work is — subtly building layer upon layer:

Part Two is a beautiful omnibus tribute to Fats Waller, including meditations on HONEYSUCKLE ROSE, MY HEART’S AT EASE, I’VE GOT A FEELING I’M FALLIN’, I’M NOT WORRYIN’, AIN’T CHA GLAD?, then a song whose title eludes me, Stephen Taylor, Mike Lipskin, and Louis Mazetier — but Laura Wyman pointed out that it was a Dapogny favorite, BABY, THOSE THINGS DON’T MATTER TO ME, by J. Lawrence Cook (not Waller), and then IF IT AIN’T LOVE:

This isn’t the usual Waller presentation — a pianist mingling MISBEHAVIN’, YOUR FEETS TOO BIG, and HANDFUL OF KEYS — it honors Fats as a composer of melodies, that once heard, stay.  Notice the rapt attention of the audience, broken only now and again by the creaking of our wicker chairs.

Jim could enthrall us, and he continues to do just that.  And I tell myself he isn’t dead as long as we can hear him.

May your happiness increase!

DELIGHT IN DECEIT, or A FEW MINUTES MORE WITH REBECCA KILGORE, ROSSANO SPORTIELLO, DAN BARRETT, JON BURR, RICKY MALACHI (Jazz at Chautauqua, Sept. 21, 2012)

Did someone tell a fib?

Who knew such a sad subject could be so pleasingly swung?

Rebecca Kilgore, Rossano Sportiello, Dan Barrett, Jon Burr, Ricky Malachi at Jazz at Chautauqua 2012.

Walter Donaldson’s LITTLE WHITE LIES has a brief verse detailing a romance-dream smashed because of untruths . . . which would lead us to expect a soggy morose song to follow (check out the Dick Haymes / Gordon Jenkins version on YouTube, for confirmation) but Ms. Kilgore doesn’t go in for masochism in song, so her version (with Rossano Sportiello, piano; Dan Barrett, trombone; Jon Burr, string bass; Ricky Malachi, drums) makes light of heartbreak:

Particular pleasures are Becky’s first sixteen bars — a cappella — and the joyous looseness of her second chorus.  And the swinging support from this group!

Here are two more delights from this session.  More to come from Chautauqua.

And a reminder: No matter how encouraging the moonlight, aim for candor.

May your happiness increase!

START WITH OPTIMISM, AND IF THAT DOESN’T WORK, AIM FOR RESILIENCE: REBECCA KILGORE, ROSSANO SPORTIELLO, DAN BARRETT, JON BURR, RICKY MALACHI at JAZZ AT CHAUTAUQUA (Sept. 21, 2012)

There are maladies everywhere, but there are also cures.  You could see your doctor and get a prescription designed to take care of angst, malaise, and ennui; it would be a little plastic vial with a long name that would surely upset your stomach.  Or you could simply click on the two videos below, never before seen, and wait for the results . . . with no side-effects.  Music hath charms, indeed.

Rebecca Kilgore, Rossano Sportiello, Dan Barrett, Jon Burr, Ricky Malachi at Jazz at Chautauqua 2012.

These two performances took place at the Jazz at Chautauqua weekend in September 2012, and they bring joy.  Specifically, Rebecca Kilgore, Rossano Sportiello, Dan Barrett, Jon Burr, and Ricky Malachi — vocals and guitar, piano, trombone, string bass, and drums — do that rare and wonderful thing.

Here’s a burst of optimism in swing, the 1939 pop hit above, which has been so completely overshadowed by WHAT A WONDERFUL WORLD and IT’S A BIG WIDE WONDERFUL WORLD that I am immediately grateful to Becky and friends for singing and playing it:

And resilience added to optimism, in a song associated with the unlikely spectacle of Fred Astaire having trouble mastering a dance step.

This Kern-Fields beauty occasionally gets mixed up with the Berlin LET YOURSELF GO, perhaps the same principle, but one is about recovery (even a triumph over gravity) — the other, release:

These performances are from seven years ago, but Becky and friends are currently performing their magic in various ways and places.  You can find out her schedule here, and there is her seriously beautiful new CD with Echoes of Swing (Bernd Lhotzky, Colin T. Dawson, Chris Hopkins, and Oliver Mewes) called WINTER DAYS AT SCHLOSS ELMAU, about which I’ll have more to say soon.  Rossano’s globe-crossings are documented here; Jon Burr’s many adventures here and Dan Barrett’s here.

Not a pill in sight, and I feel better now.

May your happiness increase!

“I WOULD DO ANYTHING FOR YOU”: MARTY GROSZ AND HIS HOT ROMANTICS (ANDY SCHUMM, SCOTT ROBINSON, KERRY LEWIS, PETE SIERS: Jazz at Chautauqua, Sept. 2, 2012)

Marty at a 2008 recording session for Arbors Records.

Marty Grosz doesn’t necessarily believe in the lyrics of the love songs he chooses (although he can croon most tenderly) but he does return to this one, a swing perennial for bands and singers, and I for one am glad. 

This song is apparently c0-written by the mysterious Rob Williams, Alex Hill and Claude Hopkins (my money’s on Mr. Hill, whose memorable tunes often had lyrics that told of unfulfilled romantic yearning).  It states one wild promise of devotion after another — things imagined only by Edgar Rice Burroughs — but all in the conditional — “I would do,” and some versions have become even more cautious: I WOULD DO MOST ANYTHING FOR YOU.  Is this an “if-then” construction, or is it “I’ll do this if YOU do that?”  It sounds like uptown seventeenth-century poetry, and perhaps I would feel more confident if its title were I WILL DO.  But let us clear our minds and enjoy the frolicsome sounds rather than lingering too long on how we would respond if these tokens of affection were offered to us.

Our mellow sermon for today comes from the delightful enterprise known as Jazz at Chautauqua when I first made my way to it in September 2004 — a weekend cornucopia of music where I met many heroes, made new friends, and was eventually accepted as someone doing good things for the music.  And what music!

The Atehaeum Hotel, where the joys happened.

More than many jazz parties, Chautauqua put people onstage who didn’t have the opportunity to perform together, and the results were often magical.  As in this case: a little band led by Marty, with Scott Robinson playing, among other instruments, his alto clarinet; Andy Schumm on cornet; Kerry Lewis on string bass and Pete Siers on drums making up a delicately unstoppable rhythm team.  Pay particular attention to Mr. Siers — someone who should be acclaimed worldwide as a flawlessly swinging versatile percussionist, a maker of great sounds.

They certainly rock, don’t they?  More to come from the JAZZ LIVES vaults, I assure you.  For the moment, find someone to profess love to, with or without Marty to provide the soundtrack.

May your happiness increase!