Jim Goodwin, photo courtesy of Dave Radlauer
There are musicians, and there are people who make the music possible: record producers, archivists, concert promoters, club owners, managers, and more. Think of George Wein, Norman Granz, Milt Gabler, Jerry Newman, (even) Joe Glaser, George Avakian, Bill Savory, the Ertegun brothers, and three dozen more. To this list must be added the name (and living presence) of John Ochs, who has generously produced records and CDs on his Rhythm Master label. I have long admired those recordings, but hadn’t known of John as a video-archivist prince until meeting him (and wife Pamela) at the November 2016 San Diego Jazz Fest, when he told me of the marvels I can share with you below.
A youthful Ray Skjelbred, again courtesy of Dave Radlauer.
John is also the authority of Northwest Pacific boxing promoter Jack Hurley, and has just published a three-volume bio-history. Details here. (I have no interest in boxing but was caught by these irresistible stories.)
But this post is about some treasured music — by heroes — that I hadn’t known existed. It’s my pleasure to let John himself introduce it:
The video was recorded at the RhythmMaster recording session in my basement on April 8, 1988. I borrowed a neighbor’s video camera with auto-focus (as you will see, only sometimes, and even then it was not very good). The session featured primarily Ray Skjelbred on piano and Jim Goodwin on cornet. I asked reed man Hamilton Carson to come around for second half of the session to add another voice. Unfortunately, the footage from the session’s first half (the entire portion of the session featuring Jim and Ray as a duo. Damn!) was stolen in a house break-in along with the VCR with which I had been reviewing it.
What remains is the last part of the session just as Ham had come aboard. Unfortunately, after a few tunes, our “cameraman,” had to leave early, and the special lighting was dimmed and the camera put on auto-pilot for the rest of the session. The quality of the video is not up to your normal standard, but despite the major focus problems, I think it is worth sharing.
Goodwin’s cornet work here might seem a little ragged to some people. Certainly he is blowing a very breathy horn. There are several reasons for this. For one thing, this session took place at a lull in Jim’s musical life when he had moved back to Portland to live with his mother. What little music he played was mostly for himself on the upright piano in the living room rather than on the cornet. So also, Jim being the Jim Goodwin we know and love so well, was never one to place a premium on the condition or quality of his horn. If it had a few leaky valves or hadn’t been cleaned in a while, that was just a challenge to be navigated around rather than fixed. Most importantly though, as a follower of such musicians as Wild Bill Davison (maybe his earliest as well and most enduring influence), Rex Stewart, Red Allen, and Herman Autrey, etc., Jim naturally gravitated to an expressive, earthy-toned method of horn playing.
These aspects of his style are in full display here, but, more importantly, the footage provides a visual closeup of the creative warmth and vitality Goodwin brought to his music and to the musicians in the band. When Ham Carson blows an especially beautiful solo, Jim is right there listening and encouraging him. And when the solo ends, Jim can hardly wait to take his turn, not to upstage Ham, but to continue the mood and complement the good work he has done. So too, when Skjelbred acknowledges Goodwin’s descending run with a tip of his own musical hat, Jim is quick to return the compliment with a smile even as he gets on with the business of making music. It was this infectious use of his creativity, and his desire to make the band sound better, which made him such a joy to work with and to listen to. Jim simply brought out the best in those around him. I hope that these video clips might help round out the picture of Jim Goodwin, the musician, and afford those who never saw him play an opportunity to visualize what was happening on the bandstand or studio when they listen to his other sound recordings.
This video also may serve to introduce many of your viewers to the music of clarinetist Ham Carson. It may be hard to believe, but I am quite sure that neither Goodwin nor Skjelbred, who at the time lived in Berkeley, California, had met Ham prior to the the session. Ham moved to Seattle from Los Angeles about 10 years earlier and had been a fixture in Seattle’s jazz circles ever since. I was familiar with Ham’s affinity for Chicago-style (i. e., Pee Wee, Tesch) playing and thought the styles of the three musicians would be compatible. Boy, for once, was I ever right! Ham fit right in! His playing here is impressive throughout — prodigious even. As for Ray’s playing on the session, no comment is required.
My dear friend Candace Brown shared two pieces of journalism which are more than relevant. Sadly, they are obituaries, but written with care and warmth: Ham Carson and Jim Goodwin. If you’ve been reading this blog for any length of time, you will know of my reverence for pianist Ray Skjelbred, who is very much with us as I write these words.
But enough words. To the music, which speaks louder. Than.
PART ONE: Recorded by John Ochs, April 8, 1988. Ray Skjelbred, piano; Jim Goodwin, cornet; Ham Carson, clarinet: EMALINE; GEE, BABY, AIN’T I GOOD TO YOU; COPENHAGEN; RUNNIN’ WILD.
PART TWO: RUNNIN’ WILD (concluded); SQUEEZE ME (piano solo); I AIN’T GOT NOBODY; NOBODY’S SWEETHEART.
PART THREE: NEW BALK BLUES; POOR BUTTERFLY (Carson-Skjelbred duet); DIGA DIGA DOO; SAY IT SIMPLE; TRYING TO STOP MY CRYING.
A few things need to be said. First, ninety minutes of this! Second, many “rarities” are more rare than gratifying: I hope you all will take the time to savor this hot chamber music recital.
To me, there are four heroes in these three videos: Skjelbred, Carson, Goodwin, and Ochs. Their generosities uplift us, and we are grateful.
May your happiness increase!