The trumpet brings with it a well-earned reputation for assertiveness. “Screaming brass.” The trumpet player who says, “I think you’re sitting in my chair,” when being interviewed by the Deity. The trumpeter leads the army and defeats them by force, intensity, and volume. We know these musicians and admire them (even as some of us retreat to adjoining rooms). How many years of bleeding through the Arban books did such mastery take?
But there’s also a lovely tradition of trumpeters singing through their instruments, going back to Joe Smith, Buck Clayton, Bobby Hackett, Ray Nance, and Shorty Baker. Chris Hodgkins is a contemporary charter member of that gracious group, and he has some new CDs to show off his gentle middle-register approach. He doesn’t rush; he doesn’t seek to impress the listener with note-torrents. He sings through those unforgiving loops of brass, and we hear his song.
As Bobby Hackett said of Louis, “Do you know how hard it is to make melody come so alive?”
Here‘s Chris at the Pizza Express with Wayne Wilkinson, guitar, and Lenore Raphael, for IT’S THE TALK OF THE TOWN, a favorite song of Joe Thomas’.
That CD is available at https://chrishodgkins.bandcamp.com/ — as are others in this post (physical discs or digital downloads). And here’s another beauty, EVERYTHING HAPPENS TO ME, where I can hear Billie sing through Chris’s quiet embrace of the melody.
Such playing takes a great deal of instrumental skill, aesthetic restraint, and emotional intelligence. A chorus might take less than a minute; a player has a limited time to tell a story, and every note must count. Flash is out of place and immediately jarring: plastic flowers, not real blossoms.
Here’s Chris, terse and splendid in what might seem a “traditional” setting but it’s actually Mainstream: the Pete Allen band making its way through EVERYBODY LOVES MY BABY:
That CD (Upbeat Records) was recorded in June 2023: details here.
I can easily hear the connections between Chris and Humphrey Lyttelton in the subtle mix of forthrightness and delicacy, so Chris’ CD in tribute to Humph is especially welcome. Here’s Chris’ original, CECIL BEATON STRIDES AGAIN, which shows another kind of musical intelligence, that being modesty. It’s a feature for the band, completely evocative of Humph, featuring trombonist Mark Bassey and the superb young pianist Jinjoo Yoo. I emphasize that modesty: a lesser mortal might have made “a tribute to Humph” into a showcase for his own solos; Chris understands that Humph was his band, and the CD proceeds accordingly and delightfully.
What might be my current favorite of Chris’ output (until the next surprise comes along) is FESTOONED WITH TRUMPETS. The unusual title is yet another connection to Humph, explained in the notes. This is Chris’ “International Quartet,” with Jinjoo Yoo, piano; Alison Rayner, double bass; Wayne WIlkinson, guitar.
Here‘s Chris’ take on Johnny Hodges’ EVERYBODY KNOWS — a witty, quietly unhurried approach to the blues. And his lyrical ALMOST LIKE BEING IN LOVE. This is truly a quartet in the best egalitarian way. One might think that there is nothing more to say about BODY AND SOUL, but Jinjoo proves that assertion wrong here.
Everyone has a past, and with luck it doesn’t consist of encounters with the authorities. Chris’ past (we’re speaking of 1976 in Cardiff, UK) is documented in a series of happy informal on-the-job recordings with the legendary guitarist Vic Parker and drummer Jed Williams, rescued from someone’s shelf and issued on this CD:
Here’s the venerable and dear IDA, a performance that evokes Bill Coleman in Europe and of course bows to Louis in the nicest ways.
This has been the briefest possible tour of / introduction to Chris Hodgkins, someone keeping sophisticated melodic improvisation alive every time he picks up his horn. Unlike the hallowed names I called above, Chris has the advvantage of being alive, playing gigs, making people happy in person.
Other trumpeters might aim above the staff: Chris aims at our hearts.
Roswell Rudd said, “You play your personality,” and in the case of Danny Tobias, that is happily true. Watch him off the stand: he’s witty, insightful, but down-to-earth, someone choosing to spread love and have a good time. And when he picks up the horn (cornet, trumpet, Eb alto horn) that same hopeful sunniness comes through. He can play a dark sad ballad with tender depths, but essentially he is devoted to making music that reminds us that joy is everywhere if you know how to look for it.
Photograph by Lynn Redmile.
Danny’s a great lyrical soloist but he really understands what community is all about — making connections among his musical families. So his performances are never just a string of solos: he creates bands of brothers and sisters whenever he sits (or stands) to play. His jazz is friendly, and it’s honest: in the great tradition, he honors the song rather than abstracting the harmonies — he loves melodies and he’s a master at embellishing them. When I first heard him, in 2005 at The Cajun, I told him that he reminded me of Buck Clayton and Ruby Braff, and he understood the compliment.
But enough words. How about some 1939 Basie and Lester, made fresh and new for us — with a little spiritual exhortation in the middle:
Now, that’s lovely. And it comes from Danny’s brand-new CD with his and my heroes, named above. My admiration for Danny and friends is such that when I heard about this project, I asked — no, I insisted — to write the notes:
What makes the music we love so – whatever name it’s going by today – so essential, so endearing? It feels real. It’s a caress or a guffaw, or both at once; a big hug or a tender whisper; a naughty joke or a prayer. The music that touches our hearts respects melody but is not afraid of messing around with it; it always has a rhythmic pulse; it’s a giant conversation where everyone’s voice is heard. And it’s honest: you can tell as soon as you hear eight bars whether the players are living the song or they are play-acting. If you haven’t guessed, SILVER LININGS is a precious example of all these things.
I’ve been following all of these musicians (except for the wonderful addition to the family Joe Plowman) for fifteen years now, and they share a common integrity. They are in the moment, and the results are always lyrical and surprising. When Danny told me he planned to make a new CD, I was delighted; when he told me who would be in the studio with him, I held my breath; when I listened to this disc for the first time, I was in the wonderful state between joyous tears and silly grinning. You’ll feel it too. There’s immense drama here, and passion – whether a murmur or a shout; there is the most respectful bow to the past (hear the opening of EASY DOES IT, which could have been the disc’s title); there’s joyous comedy (find the YEAH, MAN! and win a prize – wait, you’ve already won it). But the sounds are as fresh as bird calls or a surprise phone call from someone you love. Most CDs are too much of a good thing; this is a wonderful meal where every course is its own delight, unified by deep flavors and respect for the materials, but nothing becomes monotonous – we savor course after course, because each one is so rewarding And when it’s over, we want to enjoy it again.
I could point out the wonderful sound and surge of Kevin Dorn’s Chinese cymbal and rim-chock punctuations; the steady I’ll-never-fail-you pulse of Joe Plowman; Rossano Sportiello’s delicate first-snowflake-of-the-winter touch and his seismic stride; Scott Robinson’s gorgeous rainbows of sounds, exuberant or crooning, and the man whose name is on the front, Danny Tobias, who feels melody in his soul and can’t go a measure without swinging. But why should I take away your gasps of surprise and pleasure? This might not be the only dream band on the planet, but it sure as anything it is one of mine, tangible evidence of dreams come true.
They tell us “Every cloud has a silver lining”? Get lost, clouds! Thanks to Danny, Joe, Scott, Kevin, and Rossano, we have music that reminds us of how good it is to be alive.
The songs are Bud Freeman’s THAT D MINOR THING; Larry McKenna’s YOU’RE IT; EASY DOES IT; Danny’s GREAT SCOTT; DEEP IN A DREAM; LOOK FOR THE SILVER LINING; I NEVER KNEW; Danny’s gender-neutral MY GUY SAUL; YOU MUST BELIEVE IN SPRING; OH, SISTER, AIN’T THAT HOT!; I’VE GROWN ACCUSTOMED TO HER FACE; PALESTEENA; Danny’s BIG ORANGE STAIN; WHY DID I CHOOSE YOU?
On the subject of choosing. You could download this music from a variety of sources, but you and I know that downloading from some of those sources leaves the musicians with nothing but regrets for their irreplaceable art. Danny and his wife Lynn (a remarkable photographer: see above) adopted the adorable Clyde Beauregard Redmile-Tobias some months ago:
I know my readers are generous (the holidays are coming!) so I urge them to buy their copies direct from Danny, who will sign / inscribe them. Your choice means that Clyde will have better food and live longer.
Four of my musical heroes made wonderful sounds the other night at Swing 46 (that’s 349 West 46th Street, New York City): Dan Block, tenor saxophone and clarinet; Gabrielle Stravelli, vocal; Michael Kanan, piano; Pat O’Leary, string bass.
Dan Block, Pat O’Leary, Gabrielle Stravelli. Photo by Jon De Lucia.Gabrielle Stravelli. Photograph by Jon De Lucia.
Four heroes, five wonderful performances. It was a Tuesday night; the gig went from 5:30 to 8:30 — hardly the day and time one would expect aesthetic firework displays, but they certainly happened.
Michael Kanan. Photograph by Jon De Lucia.
TICKLE-TOE — an instrumental tribute to and embodiment of Lester Young, so happily. Savor the first ballad chorus!:
SOMEONE TO WATCH OVER ME — could anything be more tender?:
Harold Arlen and Ted Koehler give us friendly rules for living and romance, AS LONG AS I LIVE:
Even though it was becoming dark, here’s a frolicsome DAY IN, DAY OUT:
A sweetly pensive Kurt Weill medley scored for the trio — LOST IN THE STARS / HERE I’LL STAY:
And a few words about Swing 46 — it was a pleasure to be there in a congenial atmosphere — a large food-and-drink menu and a very welcoming staff. Next Tuesday, Dan will be back with the delightful Hilary Gardner (swinging, surprising, and introspective) and other luminaries to be announced, from 5:30 to 8:30. And at 9, the irreplaceable Michael Hashim leads noble friends — who have included Chris Flory and Kevin Dorn — in an impromptu session. That’s 349 West 46th Street, the north side, between Eighth and Ninth Avenue. Leave your bedroom: put down the phone: Netflix will be here when you come back: what’s in the freezer is safe. Hear some restorative live music among like-minded friends.
Because we live in a world where there is every kind of sensory stimulus bombarding us, once in a while we need to slow down and listen, to take in molecules and atoms of beauty — what Ruby Braff called “aesthetic vitamins.”
By delightful serendipity, I found myself once again stopping — pausing — breathing in the singing of the wonderful Nancy Harrow, and in particular this recording of the Matty Malneck – Johnny Mercer IF YOU WERE MINE.
I know, and you do too, that the song is inextricably associated with Billie Holiday, but do clear your sensorium to hear Nancy — her delicate yet compelling phrasing, the shifting turquoise and grey timbres of her voice, the way she understands the deep message and brings it to us, her hands open, her emotions so present, midway between sigh and speech:
Her beautifully intuitive accompanists are Dick Katz, piano; Ray Drummond, string bass; Ben Riley, drums. And this performance can be found on Nancy’s most recent anthology — like a slim volume of poems in evocative, restorative order, PARTNERS II: I DON’T KNOW WHAT KIND OF BLUES I’VE GOT.
It’s available in all the usual places, thankfully.
I’ve written about Nancy since 2017, but rather than read one more line from me, I urge you to enter and re-enter her lovely worlds.
In the past fifteen years of being an involved observer in New York City, I’ve met many musicians. Sometimes the circles I travel in are both small and reassuring. But every so often I’ll come to a gig and there will be someone setting up whose face is unfamiliar, and I will introduce myself, then sit back and be ready to take in the new sounds. More often than not, the experience is a delightful surprise, so much so that I might go up to the person after the set and say, my enthusiasm barely restrained, “You sound wonderful. Where on earth did you come from?”
That was my experience with young guitarist Josh Dunn, whom I hope many of you have met in person as well as through videos — mine and his own. And when he said, “Tasmania,” I had to ask him again. “What?” “Tasmania.” And it finally sunk in — that he had traveled over ten thousand miles (sixteen thousand kilometers) to arrive here, bearing sweet inventive melodies and irresistible swing.
I first met and heard Josh at Cafe Bohemia on November 21, 2019 — where he was quite comfortable in the fastest musical company New York City has to offer: Tal Ronen, string bass; Dan Block, clarinet and tenor saxophone; Danny Tobias, trumpet and Eb alto horn. Hear how he fits right in and elevates the proceedings on LADY BE GOOD:
and a few months later, I had another opportunity to admire Josh’s steady rhythmic pulse, his intuitive grasp of the right harmonies (those chiming chords), and the way his single-string lines never seem glib but always offer refreshing ways to get from expected point A to point B. Here, again — on the last night I visited New York City — he fit right in with the best of them: Jon-Erik Kellso, trumpet; Evan Arntzen, reeds; Sean Cronin, string bass:
And he understands the guitar’s honored and venerable role as a small orchestra, where a masterful player has to keep melody, harmony, and rhythm going on what George Van Eps called “lap piano.” Here’s a wonderful solo by Josh on a Duke Ellington- Barney Bigard composition, A LULL AT DAWN:
I’m inspired by how much music Josh makes ring in the air. But this video of THE GLORY OF LOVE stops abruptly — so be warned — it’s almost painful. I think, “I want to hear more!”:
Because I was impressed by Josh as a player — the evidence is here and on YouTube — and as a person (he’s soft-spoken, witty in an offhand way, and quite modest . . . he’s thrilled to be on the stand with these heroes) I suggested we do an email interview so that more people could get to know him. The results:
I come from an incredibly supportive, but non-musical family background. My family are mostly in medical/health-related fields, and as middle child I felt compelled to get as far away from that as possible, hence traditional jazz guitar. I told my folks I wanted to pick up guitar when I was about 7, I can’t recall if there was any reasoning behind this except that guitars looked cool. I still think they look cool.
For its size, Tasmania is an incredibly vibrant place for the creative arts, including music. I am really grateful that I had opportunities to grow up there, and play with and learn from such terrific musicians. My first guitar teacher in Tasmania, Steve Gadd, introduced me to a lot of the music styles I still listen to, practice, and perform now. However, Tassie is such a small community, and it’s hard to find opportunities to make a living playing music when you live on tiny island at the bottom of the world, especially in a somewhat niche style like traditional jazz.
I grew up listening to jazz and the more I learnt about the music and its history, the more I started to gravitate towards New York. I didn’t initially see myself living here (it’s about as far removed from rural Tasmania in lifestyle and environment as you can find) but in 2013 I received a grant to travel and study in the US for three months, and halfway through I arrived in New York and immediately changed my plans so I could spend the rest of the trip exploring the city. As someone who has learnt this music from afar, it was so exciting to experience jazz as a living music and culture, and it made me want to come and learn more. So from there I applied for the Fulbright and that provided the impetus to move to the US and play music.
An interlude from reading: Josh plays SMOKE GETS IN YOUR EYES:
So a big part of my informal jazz education before coming to New York was watching the Jazz Lives videos on YouTube, particularly the Sunday nights at the Ear Inn with Jon-Erik Kellso, Matt Munisteri and Company. It was how I learnt a lot of the repertoire, and discovered how this music was actually being played by contemporary musicians today.
Matt’s one of my musical heroes, so when I knew I’d be visiting NYC, I contacted him out of the blue and asked for a lesson. We emailed a little but somehow never quite managed to confirm a time, and I only had a few days left in NYC. So I took the drastic action of working out what approximate neighborhood he lived in from an allusion to a particular local venue in an online interview, and then just spent the afternoon wandering around that part of Brooklyn with a guitar, hoping for the best. Somehow it worked, I ran into him on the street, and we had our lesson, and it was only recently that we talked about how creepy it was to be approached on the block where he lived by a stranger from the other side of the world wanting a guitar lesson. It’s probably commonplace for Matt now, but I get the feeling that in 2013 it was a novel experience him.
You asked me for unusual NYC gig stories — I was hired for a mystery gig a few years back by a singer I didn’t know, I was just given an address, a dress code and a time, and it ended up being a private party hosted by a well known Hollywood actor. Which, as someone who’s only experience with that world was watching rented films while growing up in rural Tasmania, was a bit of culture shock for me.
I have no lofty ambitions of fame or fortune in music (but I admire those that do). The thing I have spent most of my life doing is playing guitar, usually by myself in my bedroom, but also with some of my favorite people in front of an audience. Since moving to the US I’ve somehow been able to turn that into something I get paid to do most nights of the week. So I want to keep learning and honing my craft as a musician, and also to continue making good music with good people. More recently I’ve started keeping a list of notes on my phone whenever I have the thought of “I wish someone had told me that a few years ago,” so maybe down the track I’ll be more involved in teaching in some form, but my main goal is to be in New York playing music.
More recently I’ve been enjoying the challenge of making solo jazz guitar an interesting thing to listen to for people who aren’t solo jazz guitarists. I could see myself pursuing this avenue too.
If you asked me for a compact embodiment of Beauty, as it happens now, I might very well reach for this:
Or if you asked me to define Collective Joy. You don’t see Josh until three minutes’ in, but you certainly hear what he adds is the real thing, and then:
I’ll leave with this. At one of the Cafe Bohemia gigs, I talked with a musician who’d dropped by to admire the band, and I said, “How about that Josh Dunn?” His reaction was immediate and emphatic, “We’re not letting him leave New York any time soon!” My thoughts exactly.
Many jazz fans are seriously prone to excessive nostalgicizing (see E.A. Robinson’s “Minniver Cheevy”) and I wonder why this music that we love is such a stimulus. How many classical-music devotees dream, “I wish I were having dinner with the Esterhazys tonight so I could hear Joe Haydn’s new piece”? I am sure sports aficionados imagine themselves at the Polo Grounds or another fabled place for the moment when ____ hit his home run.
But in my experience, those who love jazz are always saying, wistfully, “I wish I could go back to hear the Goldkette band / Fifty-Second Street / Louis at the Vendome Theatre / the Fargo dance date / Bird and Diz at Billy Berg’s,” or a thousand other part-forlorn wishes. To be fair, I too would like to have been in the studio when COMES JAZZ was recorded, or the 1932 Bennie Moten session in Camden.
But sometimes such yearning for the past obscures the very much accessible glories of the present. (I see this in those fans so busy making love to their recordings that they never go to a club to hear live jazz, which is their loss.) Yes, many of our heroes will play or sing no more. But THE GOLDEN ERA IS NOW and it always has been NOW. And NOW turns into THEN right before our eyes, so get with it!
Here’s proof: more music from a life-enhancing evening at Cafe Bohemia, 15 Barrow Street, Greenwich Village, New York — November 21, 2019 — with Danny Tobias, trumpet; Dan Block, clarinet and tenor saxophone; Josh Dunn, guitar; Tal Ronen, string bass.
I’ve already posted several beauties from this gig here and here.
And now . . . .
LINGER AWHILE:
BLUE ROOM (at a wonderful tempo, cool but lively):
MY HONEY’S LOVING ARMS (with the obligatory Irish-American reference):
MY MELANCHOLY BABY:
LULLABY OF THE LEAVES:
I WANT TO BE HAPPY:
I’VE GROWN ACCUSTOMED TO HER FACE, so very tender:
and finally, SOMEBODY STOLE MY GAL:
I want to hear this band again — such peerless soloists and ensemble players — could that happen? I hope so.
Perhaps because I began my immersion in music in the last century with musicians who sent warmth through the speaker and in person, some “contemporary jazz” or “innovative music” seems forbidding, austere. It looks at me suspiciously and asks, “Are you musically erudite enough to be allowed to listen to what is being created?” suggesting that I am metaphysically too short to ride the esoteric roller coaster. But not the music Michael Kanan creates.
Pianist and composer Michael Kanan does not aim for the esoteric, although his art is consistently subtle. He delights in song, in melodic improvisation, in swing. His music says, “Let’s have a nice time. Please come in!” and the most severe postmodernists gently thaw out after a chorus or two. His playfulness is balanced by deep feeling, each note and chord carefully chosen but floating on emotion. Jimmie Rowles stands in back of him, and Lester Young in back of both. If you’ve been following this blog, Michael’s appeared often since 2010, when I first met him through his friend, the masterful reedman Joel Press.
Michael appears worldwide in many settings, but in New York City he is often happily onstage with Greg Ruggiero, guitar, and Neal Miner, string bass, his “brothers in rhythm.” That splendid trio will be appearing at Mezzrowon West Tenth Street on December 27 and 28, sets at 7:30 and 9:00 PM.
But this post isn’t simply a gig advertisement. In summer 2019, Michael, Greg, and Neal performed for an attentive audience at the now-vanished 75 Club, and those performances can now be savored here at Michael’s YouTube channel. And here!
Ellington’s PIE EYE’S BLUES:
Michael’s own FOR JIMMY SCOTT:
His lovely THE PEARL DREAMS OF THE OCEAN:
The frisky POPCORN:
and a sweet MY IDEAL, where the trio sends Richard Whiting their love:
If you’re not close enough to Mezzrow to make this gig, you can have the trio at home with not much effort: they recorded their debut CD, IN THIS MOMENT, not long ago — also recorded live at that club. The CD’s lovely art is by Anne Watkins, and you can read my review of the music here.
However you encounter Michael, Greg, and Neal, don’t deny yourself the pleasure.
November 21, 2019 might have been an unremarkable day and night for some of us — leaving aside that it is Coleman Hawkins’ birthday — but at Cafe Bohemia, 15 Barrow Street, Greenwich Village, New York City, the stars were wonderfully in alignment when Danny Tobias, trumpet / Eb alto horn, Dan Block, clarinet / tenor, Josh Dunn, guitar, and Tal Ronen took the stage.
As James Chirillo says, “Music was made,” and we dare not underestimate the importance of that.
Not just formulaic “music,” but eloquent, swinging, lyrical playing in solo and ensemble, as you can hear in their BLUE AND SENTIMENTAL I’ve already posted here.
Those who take improvised music casually don’t realize the combination of skill, emotion, restraint, and individuality that is at its heart, where musicians create a model community for a few hours.
I hear an intelligent graciousness, where no one musician wants to be powerful at the expense of the others, where collective generosity is the goal, playing “for the comfort of the band,” as Baby Dodds described it — but when a solo opportunity comes along, each musician must be ready to speak their piece, share their distinct voice. Too much ego and the band squabbles; too little ego and you have watery oatmeal for the ears.
That such music as you hear here and elsewhere on JAZZ LIVES exists is, to me, frankly miraculous. Five glowing memorable examples of this holy art follow. And if these sounds remind anyone of a small Count Basie group (you can add the sounds of Jo Jones in your head, if you care to) that would be fine also.
I gravitate towards music that welcomes me in. I approve of melodies. I even love them, and I love those that I remember. There! I’ve said it.
And the pianist Alex Levin has the same affectionate relations with song: he’s not a prisoner of the written notes, but he respects what the composer has created, and his own original compositions have the gamboling pleasure of the great songs that some of us still hum in the car or in the grocery-store line.
I first heard (and heard of) Alex almost a decade ago, when he released his first CD, which I liked a great deal: you can read my review here.
And I like Alex’s new CD even more.
Here’s what I wrote, offhandedly, after hearing only two or three tracks through my computer’s speakers.
Some ninety years ago, jazz began to position itself as the delinquent of music. In opposition to all those sweet bands with violins, playing the melody in harmony, tied to the notes in front of them, jazz took a puff on its Marlboro, abruptly stood up from its seat (frightening the kittens) and made unpredictable sounds. That was HOT, a spiritual barrage against the apparent dullness of SWEET. And jazz listeners followed the narrow often unmarked ideological path: think of all those 78s whose grooves remain black, shiny, unplayed except for the eight bars of Bix or Purvis or Jack. Sweet was for Aunt Martha; hot was for rebellious enlightened outsiders. It created a pervasive false dichotomy: if you could hear the melody, was it true improvisation?
And — to oversimplify (because Bird and Trane could play melodically with great art) jazz aimed at abstraction, sharp edges and magical paths into the labyrinth. Thus, so many listeners tell themselves and others that they don’t understand jazz, as if it became a subject one had to study for to pass the final.
But the great players and singers knew and still know that melody is at the heart of any musical expression, and that “sweetness” was, in itself, a goal rather than a trap. Think of Lester Young, “I don’t like a whole lot of noise — trumpets and trombones…I’m looking for something soft. It’s got to be sweetness, man, you dig?”
It is in this spirit of an apparent conservatism that becomes radical that I commend to you Alex Levin’s new trio CD, A SUNDAY KIND OF LOVE, where the trio does more than glue themselves to the written notes, but they treat melodies with love and respect . . . the result being quietly affecting swing playing of the highest order. Some might not be able to hear the lights and shadows, preferring instead the sounds of the piano dropped to the street below, but that would be their loss.
Because readers are sometimes hurried, you can hear samples, download the music, or purchase a CD here. And I caution the unwary listener to not jump to conclusions: “It sounds too easy,” for as that great master of contemporary jazz, Ovid, was fond of saying, ars est celare artem [he recorded it for Clef], which Monk transposed into “Simple ain’t easy.”
Now back to our regularly scheduled basket of prose.
I left off there, because Life (the hussy) interfered, with her racket of parking tickets, laundry, dinner, recycling, and more — make your own list. But I came back and listened to the CD in a sitting, my enthusiasm just as strong.
Some facts. Alex, who has a light touch on a well-recorded piano, is accompanied — in the truest sense of the word — by the fine string bassist Phil Rowan and drummer Ben Cliness. And they have the ease, intuitive comfort, and wit one would expect from a working band: they catch each other’s signals without having to be told to turn the page. incidentally, I’ve seen a review of this CD calling it “modern” and “clever.” I can’t argue with those terms, but to me it seems “heartfelt” and “playful,” which qualities are audible.
Alex has divided the repertoire on this disc between standards that, for the most part, got their greatest exposure in the Fifties: the title track (which, for those of us over fifty, has a yearning nostalgia — rather like THE THINGS WE DID LAST SUMMER — even though my adolescence came later), SURREY WITH THE FRINGE ON TOP, THE BEST THING FOR YOU (Would Be Me), WHAT IS THIS THING CALLED LOVE? and I’VE TOLD EV’RY LITTLE STAR — which, for the purists in the audience, is a much older composition, but I would guess most memorably allied with jazz because of Sonny Rollins (although Annie Ross, Marian McPartland, and others returned to it).
And of course one could say, “There are a million piano trio recordings that draw on Rodgers, Berlin, Porter, and Kern,” but the other five tracks — all Levin originals — SWEETS, THE JETSETTERS, BLUES FOR WYNTON K., AT LEAST WE’RE TOGETHER, STROLLING THROUGH YONKERS — are strong jazz compositions on their own, with one foot delicately poised in the past, Alex not trying to hide that his heart belongs to 1956 Prestige, but moving around happily in this century. His songs ARE songs rather than lines over slightly modified chord progressions; they have the breath of life rather than the aroma of the Xerox machine.
Convinced? It’s music that befriends the listener, which is sometimes rare. Hear for yourself here, and then download or purchase, as the spirit moves you.
These Youngbloods give me hope — people who make lovely music and have a long way to go before asking for the senior discount at the movies. They are Guillermo Perata, cornet, and Fernando Montardit, guitar: here making merry and making art on the Goldkette-associated pop tune, HOOSIER SWEETHEART at an informal duo session of June 14, 2019.
You’ll also notice (when you listen) that they don’t treat this 1927 song as a holy relic of the Roaring Twenties, but, rather, as a piece of music to improvise on, with lyricism, swing, and a deep love for the melody:
This approach (think Louis, Hackett, Braff, Vache, Tobias, Kellso, Gordon and Justin Au, Caparone in the brass line; think Reuss and Grosz on guitar) never gets old.
I understand that Guillermo and Fernando will be visiting New York City and then New Orleans in the first half of August. I haven’t seen Fernando in a few years, and I look forward to meeting Guillermo. They are real, and the music they make is both tangible and memorable.
“The more I read the papers, the less I comprehend,” wrote Ira Gershwin, lines so poignant to me. But heartfelt creative music is an antidote to darkness. Some tell us that a postmodern world demands abstract sound, sharp-edged art. I prefer song, music that can dance as a response to sorrow, melodies rueful in the face of hard realities. Song never grows old, and the artists on this disc understand and enact this truth. Michael Kanan, piano; Greg Ruggiero, guitar; Neal Miner, string bass, trust the melodies they create, and they respect the composers’ craft while making the most familiar material glisten. Their music balances feeling and technique, and their collective energies embrace the listener.
I first met Michael Kanan in 2010 through the good offices of the Swing Lion of Boston, Joel Press, and I was immediately tickled and moved by Michael’s sly sweet approach to the piano and to song. Like a master Japanese brush-painter, he implies, he hints, he whispers thoughts we need to hear, his phrases nudging us into surprises that gratify, his pauses and silences eloquent breaths. A little later, I heard Neal and Greg, each a great swinging lyricist, each creating singular melodic epigraphs no matter the context. The trio is the embodiment of fraternal love and understanding; the laughter the three friends share before they begin to play bubbles through the night’s performances. Michael, Neal, and Greg are quietly compelling soloists but they play for the comfort of the band. They know that music doesn’t have to abrade to catch our attention, that a two-chorus solo might be all that’s needed. Their music is never immodest or coarse; it never says LOOK AT US. And they offer us an airy grace; rueful melodies never become maudlin or heavy. When I hear this trio play, I go home feeling as if I’d been dipped in some sweet elixir, not available online.
I began by noting — through Ira Gershwin’s praise of lasting love — that there are experiences, like candid graceful music, that go beyond comprehension, that move into our hearts and stay there. This disc captures three masters of the art, offering all they feel and all they have learned to us. It is in the moment and of a particular moment, but it becomes timeless.
Here is a sample of what this trio does so well:
And here one can buy or download or sample, then purchase the music. Ideally, one could go where Michael is playing and press money into his hand, completing a circle of artist and grateful audience. But however you find your way to these sounds, they will uplift.
This young man creates wonderful music, free and easy as goldfish in a pond.
He’s Kihong Jang, a guitarist with a quiet compelling lyricism. This post is to celebrate the release of his debut CD, out on Gut String Records.
And it’s delightful. Before you read another syllable, listen to this:
Isn’t that delicious?
The session was recorded in late October 2018 — how very fresh! — and it features Kihong on the guitar you see here, JinJoo Yoo on piano, Neal Miner on string bass, Jimmy Wormworth on drums, performing YOU BROUGHT A NEW KIND OF MUSIC TO ME / GOLDFISH, GOLDFISH! / FLAMINGO / LESLIE / GENEALOGY / GOLDFISH, GOLDFISH! in an alternate take.
FLAMINGO, LESLIE, and the title track are Kihong’s compositions; the others are by JinJoo, Kihong’s musical and life partner. And for those who quail at a CD of “originals,” several of these compositions are clever improvisations on the harmonic and melodic structures of songs full of substance that don’t get explored that often, for instance HOME and YOU BROUGHT A NEW KIND OF LOVE TO ME. (Had someone been listening to George Wettling’s New Yorkers, recording for Keynote in 1944? Or coincidence?)
Kihong is a deep feeling melodist, and every phrase he creates is paradoxical in that it is simultaneously terse and tender. He has a classicist’s restraint: there isn’t an extraneous note; there are no runs up and down the fretboard just because he has practiced for years. He is closer to Elizabeth Kenny than to Jimi Hendrix, and his clarity of intent is a blessing. He takes his time, and he gets where he’s going. His phrases have a careful, considered essence that goes hand in hand (pun intended) with serious emotion. And ebullient swing.
The session is marvelously old-fashioned in its cheerful reverence for lyricism, but it doesn’t need to be dusted: it doesn’t reek of the Library or the Museum. At points, the music reminds me most reassuringly of a previously unheard Fifties Clef session, but the fact that it was played and recorded last autumn is so hopeful.
I’m always fascinated by the ways musicians do and don’t reflect their personalities in their music. In person, Kihong is just like his playing: modest, quiet but full of serious understanding. He chooses his words in the way he selects his notes and phrases: he listens intently, he values silence as well as speaking, and when he has something to say it comes out of his clearly deep perceptions.
Kihong is a great ensemble player (the disc, although he is leader, is a truly egalitarian walk through the meadow) and there is ample space given to JinJoo, Neal, and Jimmy, to make their own eloquent statements in solo as well as members of the quartet. I’ve written about JinJoo hereand here, Jimmy (celebrated on film by Neal) here. I’ve been celebrating Neal here as musician and composer since January 2011 (he appears in 79 posts!) so that should convey something of my admiration.
I want to write only that Kihong and friends make music. Not music that insists, “I am important music!” but music that gently says, “I have two clementines in my pocket. Would you like one?” Listen and you will feel it.
And a jovial postscript — to send you on your way grinning. As does the CD.
I asked JinJoo how she came up with the title “GOLDFISH! GOLDFISH!” for one of her compositions, and she told me, “At first, I wanted to call it as “Nostalgia”, but there’s already a tune by Fats Navarro with that title. So I (almost) decided to name it ‘My Nostalgia’. (Not Fats’)… 😉
I was in Korea when Kihong asked my about song titles.
One day, I was having lunch with my mom and she started talking about some funny stories of my father and my uncle (they are twins) when they were young. She told me some stories that she heard from my grandmother. This one really cracked me up and I fell in love with it.
When my father and uncle were young, maybe 10, they lived in this small town called Jeon-ju. My grandparents saved some money at that time (my grandfather was a teacher, so had a very stable income) and some people would borrow money from them.
One day, my grandmother figured out that one lady that she lent money before totally RAN AWAY, A–W–A–Y not even taking stuff from her house. My grandma was really pissed off (because she really trusted her) and told my dad and uncle to GO TO THAT LADY’S HOUSE AND BRING ANYTHING THAT LOOKS PRECIOUS. And guess what? They brought goldfish from the pond that were swimming beautifully. (Some old houses in Korea had small ponds). When they came back home EXTREMELY THRILLED, “Mom!! Mom!!! Look!!!! We brought goldfish!!!!”
Actually, what they really wanted to bring home was the lady’s DOG, but it was barking furiously so they gave up. Later, they found out that that lady’s family really went completely broke. I could picture how excited my dad and uncle must have been when they found goldfish in the pond. “Oh man, look! Goldfish!!! Goldfish!!”
This post isn’t just a celebration of durability, steadfast endurance, and longevity. Those are all virtues we love, but in the case of tenor saxophonist Ted Brown, who turned ninety in early December 2017, what we cheer is his wondrous commitment to creating beauty: not at top speed, not in a shout, but as if he were whispering tender secrets into our ears.
Ted’s birthday party took place at that shrine for music, the Drawing Room (aimed straight at the grail by Michael Kanan and Stephanie Greig) on December 2, 2017. In this video — a touching exploration of THESE FOOLISH THINGS — Ted is lovingly accompanied by Aaron Quinn, guitar; Kris Monson, string bass; Deric Dickens, drums. Also in the course of the evening Jeff Brown took over the drum throne and the gracious organizer of the party — someone we’re all indebted to, tenor saxophonist Brad Linde — played alongside Ted as well. But this one, delicate, curious, and touching, is all Ted’s. You could say that he navigates by the stars of Lester and Lennie, but his internal compass has long ago been his own.
And, afterwards, there was cake. Of course!
Blessings on Ted Brown, a sweet inspiration. And gratitude that lasts longer than twenty-four hours.
THIS JUST IN: Danny and George will be back at the 1867 Sanctuary on Saturday, September 22, from 2-4 PM. Mark it down.)
Here are the closing performances — the second set — from a lovely afternoon of rewarding music. Those who missed the first two segments may savor them here.
That picture gives all the needed details, but it can’t convey the genial loving spirit that animated the music: friendly conversations among players who deeply respect and value each other, on and off the bandstand. And you would have to be at the 1867 Sanctuary to hear how fully it welcomes creativity.
A feature for the rhythm section, led by the lyrical Mr. Plowman — from GUYS AND DOLLS:
The great Fifties Basie groove on a composition by Freddie Green:
Danny’s romp on familiar chord changes (test yourself!) which is also the title of his latest CD, COMPLETE ABANDON:
Danny’s feature — THESE FOOLISH THINGS — on his special new / old cornet:
A gorgeous bouquet of sound, scored for two fluegelhorns, EMILY:
And the brief closing selection, IT’S YOU OR NO ONE:
What wonders! I believe that Danny and George have talked of doing another afternoon performance at the unique 1867 Sanctuaryand I hope this comes to fruition soon. All I can tell you is that I left the address in my car’s GPS and I will keep it there. “Worth a trip from anywhere!” as a radio commercial used to tell us. Thank you, Danny, George, Joe, Phil, Pat, Bob and Helen Kull, Caroline Roth, Lynn Redmile, and everyone else who made this possible.
First, please watch this. And since it’s less than two minutes, give it your complete attention. I assure you that you will feel well-repaid:
I first began listening to GOLDEN EARRINGS, a series of duets between alto saxophonist Sam and pianist Michael, a few months ago. I was entranced, yet I found it difficult to write about this delicately profound music, perhaps because I was trying to use the ordinary language of music criticism to describe phenomena that would be better analogized as moments in nature: the red-gold maple leaf I saw on the sidewalk, the blackbird eating a bit of fruit in the branches of the tree outside my window.
There’s nothing strange about GOLDEN EARRINGS: it’s just that the music these two create is air-borne, resonant, full of feeling and quiet splendors. Think of quietly heartfelt conversations without words between two great artists.
And this:
Coming down to earth, perhaps, hereare Sam’s own words — excerpted from an article by Phil Hewitt:
I grew up in Dereham, Norfolk and played the saxophone in school and also in the Norwich Students’ Jazz Orchestra. I gradually became more interested in jazz through my teenage years and went to study jazz saxophone at the Guildhall School of Music and Drama when I was 18 in 2007. Since graduating I’ve been freelancing in London and doing a fairly wide range of jazz gigs. I met Michael on my first trip to New York in 2014 although I already knew his playing from a few records. I’m a big fan of his playing: he’s incredibly tasteful and has a beautiful touch. He is melodic, swinging and really plays what he hears. I think we like a lot of the same musicians: Lester Young, Charlie Parker, musicians from the Tristano school, Hank Jones, Ahmed Jamal, Thelonious Monk. Michael is also incredibly nice, generous and encouraging. We kept in touch and we played a bit informally when he was in London a few times in 2015 on tour with Jane Monheit. I then took part in a summer school run by Jorge Rossy near Barcelona, which Michael teaches on every year alongside people like Albert ‘Tootie’ Heath, Ben Street, Chris Cheek and Peter Bernstein. So after all that I felt like I knew him quite well, and decided to ask him to do a duo recording with me. I really like playing in small combos like duos and trios, and I know Michael does too: you can have a more focused, conversational musical interaction, and I enjoy the challenge of keeping the texture varied despite the limited instrumentation. The recording process itself was fairly old school: just a few microphones in a room with a nice acoustic and a nice piano (Michael’s own The Drawing Room in Brooklyn, New York), one quick rehearsal and no edits. The repertoire is mostly slightly lesser-known tunes from the Great American Songbook and jazz canon – including compositions by Duke Ellington, Jerome Kern, Victor Young, Nat King Cole and Irving Berlin – plus there’s one original composition by me. I really enjoy digging a bit deeper and trying to find tunes to interpret which are slightly off the beaten track, and Michael is a real expert on the American Songbook in particular, so it was great to utilise his knowledge in that respect. It was fantastic to play with someone of Michael’s calibre. He’s played with people like Jane Monheit, Jimmy Scott, Peter Bernstein, Kurt Rosenwinkel and Ted Brown . . . .
The music was both recorded and photographed by the eminently gifted Neal Miner — whom most of us knew as a superlative string bassist. When I received a copy of the CD (released on Jordi Pujol’s FRESH SOUND NEW TALENT label) and wanted to let you all know about it, I asked Sam if he would share his notes on the music, because they were like the music: gentle, focused, and intuitive.
Like most jazz musicians of my generation, I have been introduced to this type of repertoire through listening to and playing jazz, rather than by growing up with it as pop music in the way that, say, Sonny Rollins would have done. However, I have become increasingly interested in the songs themselves. Rollins playing “If Ever I Would Leave You” is amazing, but it is also fascinating to hear the Lerner and Loewe song in its (very different) original form. (I am referring more to American Songbook songs here, rather than compositions by the likes of Charlie Parker and Duke Ellington, which have obviously always existed as jazz performances).
By listening to original recordings, learning lyrics and consulting published sheet music, I have tried to access the ‘composer’s intention’ – something that Michael Kanan, an expert in this area, talks about. We tried to use this as our starting point for interpretation and improvisation, rather than existing jazz versions.
I feel very fortunate to have recorded with Michael. His wonderful playing is plain to hear, but he was also incredibly generous and encouraging throughout the entire process of making this album.
Our approach to recording was fairly old fashioned: just three microphones in a room with a nice piano; no headphones and no edits. Neal Miner took care of all this, and his kind and positive presence in the studio made the whole thing a lot easier.
Thank you for listening to this music. I hope you enjoy it.
Dancing In The Dark: Michael takes the melody while I play a countermelody partly derived from the sheet music and the dramatic orchestral arrangement that Fred Astaire and Cyd Charisse dance to in the film The Band Wagon.
Cardboard: the melodies that Bird writes are incredible; he is perhaps undervalued as a composer. Michael and I solo together. Some of his lines here are so hip!
Irving Berlin Waltz Medley: three beautifully simple songs. Michael plays a moving solo rendition of “Always”, which Berlin wrote as a wedding present for his wife. Hank Mobley’s Soul Station contains the classic version of “Remember”. I love that recording but the song in its original form is almost an entirely different composition.
BSP: the one original composition here, this is a contrafact (a new melody written over an existing chord sequence) based on Cole Porter’s “Love For Sale”. It was written a few years ago when I was particularly interested in the music of Lennie Tristano, Lee Konitz and Warne Marsh. The melody is heard at the end.
All Too Soon: originally recorded as an instrumental by the classic Blanton-Webster edition of the Ellington band, this ballad was later given lyrics by Carl Sigman.
In Love In Vain: I love the original version from the film Centennial Summer. We begin with Kern’s verse and end with a coda that is sung in the film but does not appear in the sheet music I have for this. Perhaps it was added by the film’s orchestrators? So much for getting to the composer’s original intention!
The Scene Is Clean: there are a few mysterious corners in this tune from the pen of Tadd Dameron, the great bebop composer, and this is probably the most harmonically dense composition to feature here. The version on Clifford Brown & Max Roach at Basin Street is fantastic.
Beautiful Moons Ago: I don’t know many other Nat ‘King’ Cole originals, but this is a lovely, sad song by one of my favourite pianists and singers (co-written by Oscar Moore, the guitarist in his trio). I don’t think it is very well known.
Golden Earrings: another selection from a film, this mystical, haunting song was a hit for Peggy Lee. Victor Young’s harmony is quite classical at certain points.
Way Down Yonder In New Orleans: if this tune is played nowadays it tends to be by traditional jazz or Dixieland bands, but I’m a fan of it. The form is an unusual length and it contains a harmonic surprise towards the end. This take features more joint soloing and we finish by playing Lester Young’s masterful 1938 solo in unison.
Thanks: Michael Kanan, Neal Miner, Jordi Pujol, Walter Fischbacher, John Rogers and Mariano Gil for their invaluable help and expertise. London friends who helped by playing through the material with me before the recording, lending their ears afterwards and by offering general advice: Helena Kay, Will Arnold-Forster, Gabriel Latchin, Matt Robinson, Nick Costley-White and Rob Barron. All my teachers over the years. Special thanks to Mum and Dad, Lois and Nana.
Sam Braysher, September 2016.
And here’s another aural delicacy:
I think the listeners’ temptation is to find a box into which the vibrations can conveniently fit. Does the box say TRISTANO, KONITZ-MARSH, PRES, ROWLES-COHN? But I think we should put such boxes out for the recycling people to pick up.
This music is a wonderful series of wise tender explorations by two artists so much in tune with each other and with the songs. So plain, so elegantly simple, so deeply felt, it resists categorizations. And that’s how it should be — but so rarely is.
My only objection — and I am only in part facetious — is that the format of the CD encourages us to continue at a medium tempo from performance to performance. I would have been happier if this disc had been issued on five 12″ 78 discs, so that at the close of a song I or any other listener would have to get up, turn the disc over, or put the needle back to the beginning. The sounds are nearly translucent; they shimmer with feeling and intelligence.
Sam’s website is here; his Facebook page here. New Yorkers have the immense privilege of seeing Michael on a fairly regular basis, and that’s one of the pleasures of living here.
I’ve been listening to the fine understated guitarist John Merrill for a few years now, almost always at the West Tenth Street shrine Mezzrow. We’ve talked of capturing him on video when the cosmic forces were properly aligned, and they were on the evening of September 3, 2017, for what is billed as “after hours.” In deference to people like myself who are — as Jo Jones termed us, I think dismissively — “nine to fivers,” the set started at eleven o’clock (after two wonderful sets by a Tad Shull trio, which you may admire here).
John had with him Danny Tobias, trumpet, and Joe Lepore, string bass. They created two performances that are, for me, Instant Classics.
I SURRENDER, DEAR:
CHEEK TO CHEEK:
I look forward to another appearance by this trio. Who knows, I could take off a Monday . . .
I never know what might surface in this aging-boy’s den of things that I call my apartment, but often it is pleasing and surprising. Some weeks back, I posted the first segment of an evening of jazz, hot and sweet, performed at The Cajun, long gone, by the Red Onion Jazz Band in its summer incarnation, which means that many of the “regular” members were absent, although the “subs” were superb. You can see it and read about it all here. (And you can admire the still photograph of the ROJB just below.)
Overseen by Arlene Lichterman and the late Herb Maslin, The Cajun was a novel in itself: ask anyone who went there or made music there. But that’s another, unwritten blog.
I reprint Dick Dreiwitz’s essay on that night, because it is so good and so apt:
SUMMERTIME
A Band of Substitutes
Summers for the traditional, classic jazz bands (some called their style Dixieland), those bands fortunate enough to have steady work (even if it was only one night a week), summers came and delivered even more problems than the usual problems during the rest of the year. Vacations, tours, and travel caused individual, regular band members to be absent, so qualified substitutes had to be found and hired. Such was the case with the Red Onion Jazz Band’s (ROJB) regular Saturday night gig at the Cajun Restaurant in New York City on 8th Avenue at 16th Street one night during the summer of 2006.
Leader and drummer Bob Thompson had gone to his vacation home in Martha’s Vineyard and clarinetist Joe Licari was lured away for a more lucrative single engagement that no player in his right mind would turn down. The other regular band members away that night were: Simon Wettenhall, trumpet; Larry Weiss, piano; Rich Lieberson, banjo/guitar, and Bob Sacchi, tuba. As I remember, the only regulars were Veronica Washam, our singer, and myself on trombone. Truly, it was what John Gill would have called “An Emergency Band.”
Curiously, as luck would have it, two substitutes on the night of the taping were John Bucher, cornet, and Hank Ross, piano, both regular members of the ROJB from the late 1950’s through the 1970’s when the band and its musical style were at a zenith of its popularity. This activity included travel to play at jazz festivals, intervals of steady work in the New York metropolitan area at such places as Child’s Paramount in Times Square and Park 100, and a solo, sold out concert at Town Hall. Alan Cary, banjo, and Barbara Dreiwitz, tuba, both long time friends and substitutes with the band, filled out the personnel except for clarinetist Sam Parkins, on this occasion playing his new Albert System instrument in public for the first time.
Since that summer, over eleven years ago, the Cajun Restaurant has closed its doors, Bob Thompson, Hank Ross, and Sam Parkins have passed on and the Red Onion Jazz Band is little more than a memory, a few old LP records, a couple of CD’s, and some photos.
The band, for that night, was John Bucher, cornet; Dick Dreiwitz, trombone; Sam Parkins, Albert clarinet; Hank Ross, piano; Barbara Dreiwitz, tuba; Alan Cary, banjo; Ronnie Washam (“The Chelsea Nightingale”), vocal. In this segment, they performed BLUES MY NAUGHTY SWEETIE GIVES TO ME / ON THE ALAMO / LIMEHOUSE BLUES / JUNE NIGHT (vocal Ronnie Washam) / ROCKIN’ CHAIR (Ronnie) incomplete //.
Here, the songs are CHINATOWN (vocal Sam Parkins) / WRAP YOUR TROUBLES IN DREAMS (Ronnie Washam) / FOUR OR FIVE TIMES (with ensemble commentary). And in the name of accuracy, that’s someone else ordering “another glass of champagne.” Drinking champagne and videoing do not mix.
I’ve edited these segments a bit, so here’s one anecdote that got cut. At the end of this set, while the band is packing up, one of the patrons mechanically asks the band for “one more,” to which one of the musicians quietly says, “Three and a half hours is enough.” I agree with the tired, underpaid artists, but I wish I had another twenty hours of this band on video. I treasure what did get captured.
How long ago is eleven years? From one perspective, it’s a huge distance: we can’t go back to the seconds that just elapsed no matter how we try. But through technology, we travel backwards and make ourselves comfortable there: consider photographs and recordings. In the New York City of the recent past, wonderful things happened as a matter of course, and perhaps we took them for granted. The Cajun, a New Orleans restaurant and jazz club on Eighth Avenue between 17th and 18th Street in Manhattan, offered music seven nights a week and on Sunday afternoons. Supervised by Arlene Lichterman and the late Herb Maslin, it was more down-home than posh, but the regulars (and tourists who wandered in) got more than their chicken or pasta.
What they got was wonderful congenial jazz. Here is almost seventy-five minutes of it, still delicious. The musicians are Ronnie Washam, vocal; Alan Cary, banjo; Barbara Dreiwitz, tuba; Hank Ross, piano; Sam Parkins, Albert clarinet; Dick Dreiwitz, trombone and MC; John Bucher, cornet.
I asked Dick Dreiwitz if he would write a few words about what you are going to see — an informal record of that rainy, warm Saturday night.
SUMMERTIME
A Band of Substitutes
Summers for the traditional, classic jazz bands (some called their style Dixieland), those bands fortunate enough to have steady work (even if it was only one night a week), summers came and delivered even more problems than the usual problems during the rest of the year. Vacations, tours, and travel caused individual, regular band members to be absent, so qualified substitutes had to be found and hired. Such was the case with the Red Onion Jazz Band’s (ROJB) regular Saturday night gig at the Cajun Restaurant in New York City on 8th Avenue at 16th Street one night during the summer of 2006.
Leader and drummer Bob Thompson had gone to his vacation home in Martha’s Vineyard and clarinetist Joe Licari was lured away for a more lucrative single engagement that no player in his right mind would turn down. The other regular band members away that night were: Simon Wettenhall, trumpet; Larry Weiss, piano; Rich Lieberson, banjo/guitar, and Bob Sacchi, tuba. As I remember, the only regulars were Veronica Washam, our singer, and myself on trombone. Truly, it was what John Gill would have called “An Emergency Band.”
Curiously, as luck would have it, two substitutes on the night of the taping were John Bucher, cornet, and Hank Ross, piano, both regular members of the ROJB from the late 1950’s through the 1970’s when the band and its musical style were at a zenith of its popularity. This activity included travel to play at jazz festivals, intervals of steady work in the New York metropolitan area at such places as Child’s Paramount in Times Square and Park 100, and a solo, sold out concert at Town Hall. Alan Cary, banjo, and Barbara Dreiwitz, tuba, both long time friends and substitutes with the band, filled out the personnel except for clarinetist Sam Parkins, on this occasion playing his new Albert System instrument in public for the first time.
Since that summer, over eleven years ago, the Cajun Restaurant has closed its doors, Bob Thompson, Hank Ross, and Sam Parkins have passed on and the Red Onion Jazz Band is little more than a memory, a few old LP records, a couple of CD’s, and some photos.
And these videos, which I shot with my less-sophisticated camera that night, and have resurrected from the stack of mini-DVDs in a bookcase. The sound is clear and the sight lines, although restricted, are fine. I apologize to the sweet singer Ronnie Washam, “The Chelsea Nightingale,” for rendering her invisible, but my memory is that she blanched at the idea of having a video camera aimed at her.
What you’ll notice immediately about this band of “substitutes” is its easy medium-tempo embrace of the music’s inherent lyricism, a swinging sweetness that is not always the case in bands wedded to this repertoire, who often aim for higher volume and quicker tempos. This version of the ROJB feels like people very fond of one another, taking a walk in late summer, aware that they can reach their happy destination without rushing.
Here’s the first segment, with AVALON (vocal RW) / BLUE TURNING GREY OVER YOU / SEE SEE RIDER [C.C. RIDER]:
and more — THE LOVE NEST (vocal RW) / MAMA’S GONE, GOODBYE / ‘DEED I DO (RW) / JAZZ ME BLUES / AIN’T MISBEHAVIN’ (RW):
and a third helping — THE JAPANESE SANDMAN / Introducing the band / MY BUDDY (vocal RW) / BYE BYE BLUES (RW) / HAPPY BIRTHDAY (RW) / I CAN’T GIVE YOU ANYTHING BUT LOVE (RW):
I’ll say it again: this is a lyrical, gliding band, full of individualists devoted to the communal glories of this music. I miss The Cajun and am honored to present these vivid musical recollections both to people who were there and those not able to make that scene. And there are more sounds from this band to come.
Past, present, future. Louis Armstrong recorded one of these songs in 1928, one in 1947, but they are immensely alive in 2016 and 2017 and will keep on being alive. On December 22, 2016, Jon-Erik Kellso brought what he correctly called “a swinging quartet” to Luca’s Jazz Corner(1712 First Avenue in New York City) — it’s part of the nice Italian restaurant called Cavatappo, so there are good things to eat as well as drink and hear. The room is quiet, the audience more than usually attentive. And that audience: Luca’s is like Rick’s in CASABLANCA in that everyone comes there. One of the approving listeners in the room was Wynton Marsalis, who loves this music deeply, as we know.
So, here, for all the musicians in the house, and you as well, is the Earl Hines – Louis 1928 classic, OUR MONDAY DATE:
and something more ruminative but still moving forward nicely, Louis’ own SOMEDAY YOU’LL BE SORRY:
Everyone plays beautifully, in ensemble and solo. But (meaning no disrespect to Messrs. Kellso, Arntzen, Sportiello) this time I would single out the wonderful (and sometimes underacknowledged) Frank Tate — splendidly audible here and offering so much: his intuitive grasp of the right notes in the right places.
And hereyou can enjoy this quartet performing four other beauties from that night. I mentioned the future: Jon-Erik will be bringing another group to Luca’s on March 23, 2017. I plan to be there, and I hope you can make it to the Upper East Side too.
Yes, The Bombay Club, that luxurious New Orleans hangout in the Prince Conti Hotel, home to good music, food, drink, and friendships. I visited it for the first time on the date above, to hear Kris Tokarski, James Evans, and Hal Smith — my premiere offering from that session can be found here.
And here is Part Two: listen to the way this trio blends the three voices into a larger, delightful organism, with each member keeping his individuality.
An absolutely gorgeous SOPHISTICATED LADY:
GET HAPPY, thanks to Harold Arlen at the rehearsal piano:
JUST YOU, JUST ME:
TOP HAT, WHITE TIE AND TAILS:
Yes, there are several more joyous instant-classics from this session, and they will appear.
It was my first time at The Bombay Clubin New Orleans, and I know it won’t be my last. The music was splendid — as you will see and hear — created by Kris Tokarski, piano; James Evans, reeds and vocal; Hal Smith, drums.
LOUISIANA:
I’M PUTTING ALL MY EGGS IN ONE BASKET:
DON’T BLAME ME:
BUT NOT FOR ME:
I would point out that Kris, James, and Hal aren’t involved in some densely researched multi-layered repertory project. They are stylistic rovers, happily wandering around in the glorious present of swing, creating beautiful sounds and deeply listening to each other. Individualists who have given their hearts to the collective endeavor.
There’s more from this glorious session. I guarantee it.
Double rainbow, Evergreen, Colorado, 2014. Photograph by Michael Steinman
You can experience the joy of Part One here. All I will say is that I hope the MacArthur “genius grant” people are viewing this and the previous post: letters should be sent out now. I won’t share their addresses, but the three superb creators of Melody and Swing are Tim Laughlin (clarinet), New Orleans; Kris Tokarski (piano), the same city; Hal Smith (drums), Searcy, Arkansas.
For the second part of the musical offering, here are two songs by Hoagy Carmichael. The first has a glorious Louis Armstrong connection — both on disc and on film. The second is a mournful poem in praise of the Crescent City, and the first recording of it I know features a young Jimmy Rushing with the Bennie Moten band. Heroic antecedents, I would say.
JUBILEE:
and NEW ORLEANS, with the verse no one does:
And this just in. My phone made a peculiar sound. There was a text from a private number — a huge smiling emoticon with the initials H.C. beneath it. I take that as a celestial vote of confidence!
I don’t think I have to reiterate what a glorious time I had at the 2016 Evergreen Jazz Festival. The music, as they say, speaks for itself. And there’s more to come.
JAZZ LIVES 