For your listening and dancing pleasure, JAZZ LIVES is delighted to present another four performances by Vince Giordano and the Nighthawks from their inaugural Tuesday night appearance at “Club Cache” in Sofia’s on the lower level of the Hotel Edison (221 West 46th Street) in New York City.
The heroic (and victorious) creators are Vince himself, Arnie Kinsella, Ken Salvo, Peter Yarin, Andy Stein, Dennis Joseph, Dan Block, Andy Farber, Jim Fryer, Mike Ponella, and Jon-Erik Kellso. They honor the great tradition of twentieth-century American pop / jazz / dance music, staying true to the original intent of the composers and arrangers while creating something new and fresh in every bar.
Bandleaders please note: everyone gets a chance to speak his piece in the course of a set: this is a happily democratic band.
DON’T BE LIKE THAT, a Sammy Fain tune designed to coax a reluctant love object into happy erotic compliance:
SINGIN’ THE BLUES, Mark Lopeman’s transcription of the irreplaceable Bix Beiderbecke – Frank Trumbauer – Eddie Lang classic:
PEGGY, from the book of McKinney’s Cotton Pickers, courtesy of Don Redman, John Nesbitt, and our own John Wriggle:
A hot dance extravaganza: WHEN I TAKE MY SUGAR TO TEA, featuring beautiful work by Andy Farber:
As I write this, it’s truly hot in New York City. I prescribe a proven homeopathic cure — Hot jazz and hot dance music at Sofia’s, now twice a week.
The Columbia Records studio, August 6, 1946: Mitchell Ayres, Benny, guitarist Mike Bryan.
A poster for McKinney’s Cotton Pickers — appearing at a “Roseland” on the Merrimack, autographed to “Bob Page” by William McKinney. The perpetual calendar tells me that Friday, May 25, would have occurred in 1928 or 1934. Hard to tell more from the poster, except for the violently stereotypical drawings below.
Still more from Bent’s recreation and reimagining of Louis’s classic early Thirties recordings — a Whitley Bay highlight from July 12, 2009. I posted videos from the first part of this concert on August 2. To refresh your memory, as they say in courtroom dramas, the band was international and truly “all-star,” including Nick Ward (drums), John Carstairs Hallam (bass), Martin Litton (piano), Jacob Ullberger (banjo / guitar), Jean-Francois Bonnel, Matthias Seuffert (reeds), Paul Munnery (trombone), Beat Clerc (trumpet), Michael McQuaid (trumpet / reeds), Ludvig Carlson, Spats Langham, Elena P. Paynes, and Bent himself (vocal), and one of two musicians whose names I didn’t catch or write down — being busy clutching my video camera like a man possessed! (By the way, astute Louis-fanciers will note that Bent is often evoking Louis without playing the solos note for note, which raises these performances far above the limits of jazz repertory, or “playing old records live.”
Here’s a jaunty WALKIN’ MY BABY BACK HOME, no longer the property of Maurice Chevalier — now taken over by Bent and Spats Langham:
If that song celebrates the happiness of the end of a loving evening — infinitely expandable, with kisses and stops for barbecue — I SURRENDER, DEAR (which remains the property of Bing and Hawkins as well as Louis) depicts the lover’s swooning subjection, again offered with proper emotion by Spats:
WHEN YOUR LOVER HAS GONE is, as its title tells us, something very different — grieving and despondent, given a touching performance by Elena P. Paynes, temporarily on loan from the Chicago Stompers:
The destinies of Louis and Hoagy Carmichael were entwined early on, with the 1929 ROCKIN’ CHAIR (which Louis performed until the end of his life, with different bandsmen playing the other part) — but it didn’t stop there. Carmichael must have been ecstatic to hear his songs immortalized by Louis, and Louis never got such good material. This medley leaves out LAZY RIVER and GEORGIA ON MY MIND, but includes the rarely-heard MY SWEET and the pretty MOON COUNTRY, which Louis performed during his European tours but never recorded, as well as LYIN’ TO MYSELF and the exultant JUBILEE, sung here by Ludvig Carlson and Elena:
Many jazz wfriters have termed THAT’S MY HOME a brazen attempt to cash in on WHEN IT’S SLEEPY TIME DOWN SOUTH, and it does come from the same root — but what a pretty song it is, both here and in Louis’s 1932 Victor performance. A pity he didn’t go back to it more often, although there is a 1961 version from the Ed Sullivan Show, full of feeling as always. As is Spats:
WILL YOU, WON’T YOU BE MY BABY comes from the rare 1934 French Polydor session, and the song from the book of McKinney’s Cotton Pickers. No vocal here, just romping solos by Bonnel and Seuffert:
Bent concluded the first half of the concert with a luxuriant evocation of the French Polydor ON THE SUNNY SIDE OF THE STREET, originally a six-minute two-sided 78 disc. Here Ludvig takes care of the vocal refrain:
The second half (from Louis’s Decca days) will appear soon. . . . till then, keep muggin’ lightly!
You don’t have to take the title to heart as a Buddhist spiritual manifesto. But the song is hilarious, the performance hovering between outlandish and endearing. The song, by DeSylva, Brown, and Henderson, comes from the movie JUST IMAGINE. Pretty Marjorie White was a woefully short-lived (1904-1935) Canadian comedienne, and her wide-eyed partner in the marvelous tuxedo is Frank Albertson.
The only recording I know of this opus is by McKinney’s Cotton Pickers: also worth committing to memory.
Now, don’t forget. Thanks to “perfectjazz78” on YouTube for sharing this delicious curio.
I’m indebted to Flemming Thorbye, whom I’ve never met, for video-recording these two songs and putting them on YouTube, where they held me transfixed through several viewings. The performances might look informal, but it takes a great deal of hard-earned mastery to be so casual. Thorbye captured this band at the Bix Beiderbecke Memorial Jazz Festival in Davenport, Iowa, July 2005.
The band was officially billed as Spats Langham and his Rhythm Boys, but this ensemble has a democratic strolling feel: routines are improvised on the stand and no one monopolizes the stage. Even at a distance, you can see the players grinning at each other’s solos, which is not as common as you might think.
The Anglo-American players — what players! — are Thomas “Spats” Langham, guitar and vocal; Tom Pletcher, cornet; Paul Munnery, trombone; Norman Field, clarinet; Jeff Barnhart, piano; Frans Sjostrom, bass sax; Nick Ward, drums.
The first song was one of Jule Styne’s earliest — “Sunday,” whose lyrics make the trek through the week to arrive at the one day when romance can flourish. Bix recorded it as a member of the Jean Goldkette band — with an enthusiastic, cheery vocal by the Keller Sisters and Lynch. Apocryphally, Lynch was the Sisters’ brother, but that might be too confusing a fact to incorporate.
I know “Sunday” from years of listening to jazz sessions that took place on that day: it was and is a comfortable tune to begin with. Ruby Braff and Bobby Hackett did it often, and Jon-Erik Kellso continues the tradition now.
After a few cinematographic shudders, we settle down with Pletcher’s firm, nuanced lead — helped immeasurably by neat improvisations from Field and Munnery. The limber rhythm section moves things along: Sjostrom, as always doing the work of two or perhaps three men, playing rhythm and soloing. After Tom ends his solo with a “Holiday for Strings” lick, Munnery comes on like a supple Harlem trombonist c. 1931, with easy grace. Pletcher’s solo outing is full of Bix sound-castles, beautiful architecture, but I would also have you listen closely to Nick Ward’s rocking choke-cymbal (and then his accents behind Field on what Jo Jones used to call “elephants’ nuts”). Feld is deep into the idiom, but he doesn’t copy anyone’s phrases. Spats (at Pletcher’s direction) takes a winsome vocal, backed by Barnhart and then Sjostrom. When Frans solos, it’s easy to get swept away in his pure sound — but on a second listening, one comes to admire the shapes of his phrases, echoing the whole reed tradition. Jeff Barnhart drifts into some nifty Zez Confrey flourishes in the middle of his solo, paving the way for a fervent but still measured ensemble, driven home by Nick once again.
“Roses of Picardy,” a sentimental favorite from the First World War, is even better. It was the last tune of the set, and (as often happens) all the horns and the players and their instruments had warmed up. I can’t connect Bix with this song, but it was a popular favorite of his teens. Everyone is even more lyrical — Frans, Tom, a very Russellish Field, Langham blending Django and Lang, and Munnery, leading into the final ensemble. Although the audience drowns out Nick Ward’s break, we know it was there, so that will have to do. What great ease!
Some discographical comments:
I first heard Nick Ward, Spats Langham, and Norman Field on a Stomp Off CD, THE CHALUMEAU SERENADERS (1394) which also features the reed wizard Matthias Seuffert in the front line. Spats appeared on only one track — a vocal on a song I associate with McKinney’s Cotton Pickers, “Okay, Baby,” but his singing was so wonderful that I sought out the two Lake CDs he had made under his own name — a duet with pianist Martin Litton called LOLLIPOPS (LACD 226) and a small band — also featuring Norman! — THE HOTTEST MAN IN TOWN (LACD 228). The duet album has its serenely beautiful moments; the small band is cheerfully frisky. Norman shows off his beautiful alto work as well on these CDs. And Nick Ward is a quiet powerhouse, rocking the band without getting loud or louder.
I apologize for my not having any Paul Munnery CDs to report on — but a bit of online research suggests that he is a Higginbotham – Nanton man on CD, so I will look for his smaller group, SWING STREET, and his work with a big repertory band, HARLEM.
Jeff Barnhart has made many CDs with multi-instrumentalist Jim Fryer, and he’s also recorded a lovely solo piano CD for Arbors, IN MY SOLITUDE (19324).
I’ve praised Frans Sjostrom elsewhere in this blog and will continue to do so: search out his extraordinary HOT JAZZTRIO on the Kenneth label (CKS 3417) with Bent Persson, and he also is an essential part of the ensemble on I’M GLAD: TOM PLETCHER AND THE CLASSIC JAZZ BAND (Stomp Off 1353). Tom has appeared on many earlier vinyl issues with the Sons of Bix — have they made it to CD? But most recently, he has impresed me deeply on CD, not as a player, but as a writer and annotator of a most special kind. Many of you will know of Tom’s late father, Stewart (or Stu or even Stew) Pletcher, a wonderfully lyrical player whose most notable recordings were made as a member of Red Norvo’s Thirties orchestra and combos. I was delighted that the Jazz Oracle label issued THE STORY OF STEWART PLETCHER (BDW 8055) in 2007. Marvelously researched as always, it gives a thorough picture of Pletcher Sr.’s playing — through rare recordings, of course, from 1924 to 1937. That would be enough for me. But I was tremendously moved by his son’s essay on his father. It is loving yet candid, a tribute to a man much-loved but not always easy to know. I do not overpraise it by calling it an affecting memoir, honoring both father and son at once.
If you don’t know these players, I hope I’ve given you reason to regret your previous ignorance and repent yourselves of it as soon as possible.
P.S. The espression “What fun!” comes from Liadain O’Donovan — of Kinvara, Dalkey, New York, and San Francisco — and I hope she doesn’t mind my borrowing it.
JAZZ LIVES 