Steve Provizer (pictured, left) posted on his Brilliant Corners blog a treatise on vibrato. He was inspired to do so by Sidney Bechet (1897-1959), the cantankerous genius who made the soprano saxophone a jazz instrument and was the king of vibrato. Steve includes links to performances by celebrated vibratoists, including Bechet, and one by Wild Bill Davison that borders on parody. He also sends us to antivibratoists like Miles Davis, Bix Beiderbecke and Lester Young. You could easily spend an hour just listening to Steve’s links. To see his post, click here.
As sometimes happens in the blogosphere, Provizer’s post inspired Bruno Leicht (pictured,right), halfway across the world in Cologne, to follow up with thoughts about Harry James. James is perhaps not the first trumpeter you would think of if you were in search of vibrato-free playing. Nonetheless, Bruno provides a lovely example of him playing a ballad with a big, fat, nearly vibratoless tone. To hear it, go to BrewLite’s Jazz Tales here.
As for Bechet, here he is in the late 1950s with musicians in France, where he made his home from 1951 until his death. He uses vibrato throughout and with a vengeance toward the end of his long sustained high G or A-flat (or, in this film, somewhere in between).
The nonagenarian pianist presented de Barros with every biographer’s hope, unrestricted access to his subject’s personal papers and nearly unrestricted access to her private thoughts. He made the most of it, turning exhaustive research and hundreds of hours of interviews into a true story with the sweep of a novel. From the early discovery of McPartland’s musical gift through her wartime service, her ecstatic and stormy marriage to Jimmy McPartland, her growth as a pianist, her deep affair with Joe Morello, and the radio show that made her a national figure, she has had a fascinating life. It makes a splendid read.
Mulligan’s Concert Jazz Band had three fewer musicians than most big jazz outfits. Its size permitted precision, flexibility and subtlety, yet the band had the power of sprung steel. In this concert from a half century ago, the CJB is as fresh as yesterday. Arrangements by Mulligan, Bob Brookmeyer, Al Cohn and Johnny Mandel set standards to which big band writers still aspire. Bassist Buddy Clark and drummer Mel Lewis inspired Mulligan, Brookmeyer, Conte Candoli, Gene Quill and Zoot Sims to some of the best soloing of their careers. This beautifully produced issue of the complete concert is a basic repertoire item.
Thanks for directing your readers to our blogs, Doug.
As I’ve read in Peter J. Levinson’s interesting, though partly disputable, Trumpet Blues about the legendary bugler, gambler, boozer, womanizer, baseball player & legendary racing bet loser, Harry was a very able “impersonator” of his brass-colleague’s trumpet styles. He could imitate them all: Harry “Sweets” Edison, Chet Baker, Clifford Brown, even Freddie Hubbard.
Although Harry’s vibrato was huge, it possessed a quite natural, a vocal, quality, and it was as inimitable as Pops’. Anyway, he later used it only for the inevitable hit-medleys, featuring his biggest tearjerkers like “I Don’t Want To Walk Without You”, “It’s Been A Long, Long Time”, or “You Made Me Love You”.
As for Sidney Bechet’s “St. Louis Blues”: Once your ears got used to it, the vibrato will soon be overshadowed by the sheer brilliance of Monsieur Bechet’s joyful improvisations.
Vibrato is also a contentious subject in the world of classical music. In classical and romantic music, string players are expected to use vibrato (although the proper amount is subject to dispute) but clarinet players are forbidden from doing so. Vibrato was once routinely used in performances of Baroque music but is now forbidden. The invention of “continuous vibrato” is sometimes attributed to Fritz Kreisler but was advocated by the 17th/18th century composer and violinist Geminiani. Performances of arias from Italian opera of the 19th century have sometimes employed vibrato of sufficient intensity to precipitate earthquakes.
If the classical community is aware of performance standards of other eras, which it seems to be, it’s interesting that it’s subject to the potentially anachronising influences of its own era, instead of trying to accurately reproduce the intentions of a composer of a given time,