Three good friends; three telepathic musicians, celebrating Mildred Bailey and the great songwriters of the period: Barbara Rosene, vocal; Conal Fowkes, piano; Danny Tobias, trumpet, captured on a hot evening at Mezzrow on West Tenth Street in Greenwich Village, New York City.
This all happened in 2017, but Barbara is back in New York City for a visit — and there’s a gig (!) on Tuesday, August 3, at Swing 46 (349 West 46th Street, between Eighth and Ninth Avenues) from 9 PM — with sterling musicians and friends Michael Hashim, alto and soprano saxophone; Jesse Gelber, piano; Kevin Dorn, drums.
I’d call the mood of the 2017 gig elegant barrelhouse, but you are free to create your own string of adjectives, your own oxymorons of praise.
WHERE ARE YOU?
IN LOVE IN VAIN, a masterpiece by Jerome Kern and heart-broken Leo Robin:
NEVER IN A MILLION YEARS:
What sensitive playful teamwork. And Barbara lights up the skies.
Here are four performances from a delightful concert by Yaala Ballin, vocal; Michael Kanan, piano — at St. John’s in the Village, a welcoming Episcopal church on West 11th Street in Greenwich Village, New York. Valentine’s Day 2020 was a perfect reason for the charming event that Yaala and Michael have perfected, where audience members were given a list of classic songs and asked to pick two they especially wanted to hear . . . then, in true quiz show fashion, Yaala reached into the basket of paper slips, drew one out, showed the name to Michael, and that was the next number. Joyous and alive.
Yaala and Michael love and respect the melodies and the emotions that animate the songs, and they are also playful explorers: with the secure magic carpet of Michael’s accompaniment, Yaala can stretch the line, deliver some words in speech, offer suspenseful pauses: in effect, build new houses on familiar ground. Michael continues to be heartfelt, swinging, and sly — within the space of an eight-bar bridge — his solos translucent marvels where melody and variations float as if skywritten.
From OKLAHOMA, Rodgers and Hammerstein’s PEOPLE WILL SAY WE’RE IN LOVE, with lyrics that never fail to charm me:
Irving Berlin’s THEY SAY IT’S WONDERFUL, from ANNIE GET YOUR GUN:
The Gershwin perennial, OUR LOVE IS HERE TO STAY:
and AT LAST, by Harry Warren and Mack Gordon (the wedding song — who knew?) with touches of HEART AND SOUL, appropriately:
“A thrill to press my cheek to.”
There are more performances from this rare concert to come.
Ricky Alexander, saxophonist and clarinetist, holding up his debut CD, July 2019. Photograph by Nina Galicheva.
This Youngblood can play — but he doesn’t wallop us over our heads with his talent. To quote Billie Holiday, recommending a young Jimmie Rowles to a skeptical Lester Young, “Boy can blow!”
Ricky Alexander is an impressive and subtle musician, someone I’ve admired at a variety of gigs, fitting in beautifully whatever the band is (Jon DeLucia’s Octet, Gordon Au’s Grand Street Stompers, The New Wonders, at The Ear Inn, and more) — swing dances, big bands, jam sessions.
I particularly cherish his sweetly understated approach: he loves melody and swing, which is rarer than you might think: youthful musicians in this century are sometimes prisoners of their technique, with the need to show off the chord extensions and substitutions they’ve learned in dutiful hours in the woodshed, even if the woodshed is a room in a Brooklyn walk-up. The analogy for me is the novice cook who loves paprika and then ruins a recipe by adding tablespoons of it.  In jazz terms, Ricky’s opposite is the young saxophonist whose debut self-produced CD is a suite of his own original compositions on the theme of Chernobyl, each a solo of more than ten minutes. Perhaps noble but certainly a different approach to this art form.
Ricky tenderly embraces a song and its guiding emotions. He has his own gentle sound and identity. Hear his version of Porter’s AFTER YOU, WHO?:
If readers turn away from this music as insufficiently “innovative,” or thinks it doesn’t challenge the listener enough, I would ask them to listen again, deeply: the art of making melody sing is deeper and more difficult than playing many notes at a rapid tempo. And youthful Mr. Alexander has a real imagination (and a sly wit: the lovers in this Porter song are on the edge of finding a small hotel — run by Dick and Larry — to increase their bliss, in case you didn’t notice).
His music is sweet but not trivial or shallow: hear his sensitive reading of I’VE GOT A RIGHT TO SING THE BLUES for one example. And he quietly shows off a real talent at composition: on first hearing, I thought his I KNEW I LOVED YOU was perhaps an obscure Harry Warren song.
Ricky’s also commendably egalitarian: he shares the space with guitarist James Chirillo, string bassist Rob Adkins, drummer Andrew Millar, and the colorful singer Martina DaSilva, who improvises on several selections to great effect. As well as those I’ve commented on above, the repertoire is mainly songs with deep melodic cores: WHERE OR WHEN, A KISS TO BUILD A DREAM ON, I CAN’T GET STARTED, SKYLARK (as a light-hearted bossa nova), STRIKE UP THE BAND, with several now fairly-obscure delights: THE LADY’S IN LOVE WITH YOU, AND THE ANGELS SING, and a particular favorite from the 1935 hit parade, YOU HIT THE SPOT by Gordon and Revel.
STRIKE UP THE BAND is a model of how artists might represent themselves on disc. Like Ricky, this effort is gracious, welcoming, friendly: listeners are encouraged to make themselves at home, given the best seat on the couch. It’s smooth without being “smooth jazz”; it has no post-modern rough edges on which listeners will lacerate themselves. And although Ricky often gigs with groups dedicated to older styles, this is no trip to the museum: rather, it’s warm living music.
I’m told that it can be streamed and downloaded in all the usual places, and that an lp record is in the works. For those who wish to learn more and purchase STRIKE UP THE BAND, visit here. If you know Ricky, the gently lovely character of this CD will be no surprise; if he’s new to you, you have made a rewarding musical friend, who has songs to sing to us.
Jazz parties sometimes are stereotyped as loud — raucous affairs where one high-energy band or singer succeeds another.  This isn’t true, and I offer this tender interlude from last year’s Whitley Bay Classic Jazz Party — in honor of Miss Ivie Anderson.  The very expressive Cecile McLorin Salvant is joined here by the underrated pianist (and much-loved singer) Daryl Sherman to summon up a vanished era and the entire Ellington band of 1937 in the Mack Gordon – Harry Revel THERE’S A LULL IN MY LIFE:
And although you may be completely captivated (and rightly so) by Cecile’s singing on a first hearing, I would draw your attention to Daryl’s perfectly subtle accompaniment — with the verse. Â I think Daryl’s final chord is as touching as anything that has preceded it.
Thank you, dear Cecile and Daryl. Â And of course, Miss Ivie.
JAZZ LIVES 