In The Wall Street Journal, Nat Hentoff reminisces about his relationship with Duke Ellington. The occasion is the release of a massive Mosaic CD box set of early Ellington recordings remastered by Steven Lasker. The column is packed with anecdotes, including this one from the early 1940s, when Hentoff was a young broadcaster in Boston:

Off the air, he once told me: “I don’t want listeners to analyze my music. I want them open to it as a whole.”

And I was there when he played dances, just to get as close to the bandstand as I could. One night, the band played a number entirely new to me. During one of their quick breaks I whispered to a sideman, baritone saxophonist Harry Carney, “What’s the name of that?”

“I don’t know,” he said. “He just wrote it.”

Hentoff gives historical context to his enthusiasm for the Mosaic collection:

During the summer of 1929, the orchestra appeared in Florenz Ziegfeld’s revue “Showgirl.” Its performance roused that legendary producer to call the orchestra “the finest exponent of syncopated music in existence. . . . Some of the best exponents of modern music who have heard them during rehearsal almost jumped out of their seats over their extraordinary harmonies and exciting rhythms.”

Now, thanks to Mosaic, I have almost jumped out of my seat because the sound engineering by Mr. Lasker and Andreas Meyer brings these Ellington orchestras swinging right into the room. As Billy Strayhorn (eventually Ellington’s associate arranger) put it in Down Beat in 1952: “Ellington plays the piano, but his real instrument is the band. Each member of the band is to him a distinctive tone color and set of emotions, which he mixes with others equally distinctive to produce a third thing, which I call the Ellington Effect.” That characteristic sound is as present in these recordings as it would later be in the 1940s and beyond.

To read the entire article, go here.

Don’t go away. You’ve come to the right place. This is Rifftides, but with a new design. The publishing platform called WordPress is a significant advance over the old Moveable Type platform. Artsjournal.com founder and editor Doug McLennan has been beta testing WordPress on his own blog. Now he’s helping us switch to the new system. It makes management of the blog easier for the Rifftides staff and—more important—makes the site more enjoyable and efficient for you to navigate. We’re still learning the ropes, but expect to build in new features as we go along.

Under Doug’s Picks in the right column you will find recommendations of a DVD about a trailblazing band leader, CDs by a trumpeter and a pianist leading the way in their generation of young jazz artists, and the autobiography of a leading light in an older generation.

The Rifftides staff discovered, by chance, that an essential element in a two-and-a-half-year-old entry about Dick Wellstood and two other pianists had suffered the slings and arrows of outrageous YouTube fortune. The video of Wellstood playing was removed by whoever posted it. We managed to find an even better one, so here is the reconstituted piece, including video. Call it a Rifftides encore or golden oldie. This first ran on August 8, 2008.
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Dick Wellstood has been on my mind. Maybe it’s because I heard Dave Frishberg play the piano the other night at The Seasons. Frishberg was in concert singing his inimitable songs and accompanying himself, but he opened up plenty of space for piano solos. Before he became famous for performing his songs, Frishberg worked with Zoot Sims, Al Cohn, Ben Webster, Jack Sheldon and Carmen McRae, among other demanding leaders. He was, and is, a versatile and idiosyncratic pianist who wraps several jazz eras into a style of his own. A couple of times on Saturday night, he pulled off stride passages that Wellstood would have appreciated.

In the mid-1940s when Wellstood was a young man working toward a career as a pianist, he was under the spell of Joe Sullivan (pictured). Sullivan (1906-1971) came from Chicago and

began recording in 1927. By 1933, he was Bing Crosby’s accompanist and established as one of the brightest of the young pianists influenced by Earl Hines, James P. Johnson and Fats Waller. He in turn influenced Wellstood, who had cards printed that read, “Perhaps you can help me to meet Joe Sullivan. My name is Dick Wellstood.” He distributed the cards in musicians’ hangouts. Finally, the cornetist Muggsy Spanier told Wellstood where Sullivan lived. According to clarinetist Kenny Davern’s account of the meeting, quoted in Edward N. Meyer’s Giant Strides: The Legacy of Dick Wellstood, the pianist knocked on Sullivan’s apartment door well after midnight.

Soon this disheveled figure in slippers and a bathrobe comes shuffling through. Joe opens the door and says, “Yeah?” Dick says, “Hi, my name is Dick Wellstood and Muggsy Spanier said to say hello.” And Joe Sullivan said, “Tell Muggsy Spanier to go f___ himself,” and slammed the door right in Dick’s face.

Nonetheless, Wellstood remained a steadfast admirer of Sullivan. Here is one reason, Sullivan’s 1933 recording of “Gin Mill Blues.”

There is little video of Wellstood performing, but this clip from a concert in Germany in 1982, five years before he died, catches him in full stride, concentration and swing.

I’m still tucking in the frayed ends of daily life after extended duty in the trenches of extracurricular writing. Soon, there will be a new batch of Doug’s Picks as the blogging routine returns to normal, whatever that is.

I am told that the first rule of survival in the weblog game is to keep the blog fresh. So—to give you useful information and avoid turning this into a mere video disc jockey operation—here is a cross-generational performance of Bud Powell’s “Webb City.” The older generation is represented by Phil Woods, the man in the hat, the younger by Grace Kelly, the woman in the magenta dress, and her band: Jason Palmer, trumpet; Doug Johnson, piano; Evan Gregor, bass; and Jordan Perison, drums. “Webb City” became famous in bebop circles because of a brilliant 1946 recording by Fats Navarro. Powell named the tune not after the southwest Missouri town of 10,000 but for Freddie Webster, one of the heros of pre-bop trumpet. Thanks to Ira Gitler, the fount of all bebop knowledge, for that nugget. There——wasn’t that useful?

This performance took place recently at Sculler’s, a jazz emporium in Boston, Massachusetts, a large city on the east coast of the United States.

“Webb City” is not on Ms. Kelly’s new CD, Man With the Hat, but Mr. Woods is. Here’s a sign of changing times in the record business and in earning prospects for musicians: the album sells on Amazon as a digital download for $6.93, as a CD for $24.72 plus shipping. There are still lots of diehard CD lovers, but remaining one is not getting easier.

Blogging is going on the back burner—or maybe a side burner—for a few days while I wrap up an assignment. I am writing the essay and program notes for a seven-CD Mosaic box of the Modern Jazz Quartet’s Atlantic studio recordings from 1956 to 1964. It involves a lot of listening, a lot of interviewing, a lot of work and an enormous amount of pleasure. This video from an MJQ concert in Holland in 1982 underlines the point about pleasure. The piece includes a splendid John Lewis solo, Connie Kay’s irresistible time keeping and at the end, following Milt Jackson’s dazzling vibes passage, something even rarer than the Percy Heath bass solo—what may be a smile from Jackson. Mr. Lewis announces the tune.

Percy Heath’s work before and after that solo brings to mind this Rifftides archive item about the importance of the bass line to understanding the nature of a jazz performance. The first installment of a six-part series, it contains a bonus video from the MJQ and another solo by Percy. I’m told that the Mosaic box will be out in late spring or early summer.

In today’s Wall Street Journal, Terry Teachout writes about George Shearing’s popularity. He finds it admirable. A sample observation:

Mr. Shearing’s willingness to work both sides of the street vexed jazz critics, who are not an especially tolerant lot, and by the ’60s he had been written off as a popularizer. In fact, though, he was something completely different, a dead-serious artist who enjoyed playing well-crafted music that was accessible to a popular audience.

To read the whole thing, go here.
As Teachout said this morning in a message, Marc Myers of JazzWax accomplished a coup when he tracked down Marjorie Hyams, the vibes player in the original Shearing quintet. She is 90 and has a great memory. To read Marc’s interview with Ms. Hyams, go here.
You will find a Rifftides reflection on Shearing two exhibits down.

I just came across this video clip of George Shearing answering fellow pianist Billy Taylor’s questions about how he developed the Shearing style. The clip has no date, but Taylor’s leisure suit says the 1970s. The interested onlooker is Marian McPartland.

On his Jazz Profiles website, Steve Cerra begins a tribute to Bill Holman with this passage:

In Japan, a select few of those who maintain the country’s artistic traditions or make a unique contribution to them are accorded the respect of the nation by being designated as a Living National Treasure [a considerable amount of schimolies also come with the title each year].
When it comes to composing and arranging for Jazz big bands, no one is more deserving of such consideration than Willis “Bill” Holman.
However, because this country does not have such an award, the editorial staff at JazzProfiles has decided to step up on behalf of grateful Jazz fans everywhere and to bestow upon Bill the distinction of being a Living International Treasure.

The Jazz Profiles post includes a brilliant piece of perception about Holman by André Previn and an embarrassingly large selection of prose from notes I’ve written for Holman albums. To read the tribute and see Steve’s photo montage accompanying one of Holman’s recordings, go here.
For even more on Holman, see this Rifftides archive post.

The young bassist, composer and vocalist Esperanza Spalding last night shattered decades of pop and rock dominance of the Grammys to become the first jazz musician ever to be named best new artist. She edged out the teen idol Justin Bieber and three other pop performers. Spalding’s Chamber Music Society CD broke through several categories in 2010 and became a best seller for her label, Telarc. For a Rifftides review of the album, go here. Spalding made an impression in the jazz community for music with her own groups and with Joe Lovano’s band Us Five.
Less than three months after his death, James Moody’s 4B won in the best jazz instrumental category. Other jazz winners are Dee Dee Bridgewater for Eleanora Fagan, her tribute to Billie Holiday; Herbie Hancock for best improvised jazz solo; the Mingus Big Band and—in the overall Grammy category of best instrumental composition—Billy Childs for “The Path Among the Trees” from his album Autumn In Moving Pictures: Chamber Music Vol. 2.
For a complete list of the winners in all 109 Grammy categories, go here.

James Moody toured in most parts of the world and made friends wherever he went. Following his death in December, the Norwegian pianist Per Husby sent the story of his encounter with Moody a couple of decades ago and the touching question Moody asked him the day after their concert. The pictures and captions below will mean more if you first read Mr. Husby’s story. It contains a link to a vocal performance by Moody that includes yodeling. Click here. Then come back to this page.
Here is Per Husby’s photographic update of that story.

The color shot is taken at Frognerseteren restaurant outside of Oslo in 1994 – just after we had finished the lunch where Moody had asked me the “do I sound old?” question.

The black and white photo was taken at the jazz festival in Molde in 1979 on the gig that produced the yodel track I posted on the net.

Here, with her permission, is Linda Moody’s note to Mr. Husby.

My sons and I have thoroughly enjoyed the clip of Moody. When we were first married Moody yodeled all the time and I had forgotten how good he was at that. Thank you so much. I think your letter has gone all over the Internet. 3 different people have sent it to me. By the way I am not half Norwegian. My Mother was born in Stavanger and my Father was born near Trondheim. We had a huge family reunion in Sandness in 1988.