Terry Pollard was a gifted pianist whose ability paralleled that of her fellow Detroiters Tommy Flanagan and Barry Harris. She shared their grasp of the bebop vocabulary and, some admirers claimed, swung even harder. I became aware of her when she recorded with the vibraharpist Terry Gibbs in the early 1950s. She is with Gibbs on this album, one of her few recordings. In the picture below, which I pirated from the photo section of Bill Crow’s web site, Ms. Pollard is at Birdland with Gibbs, Crow and drummer Frank Di Vito.

For more on Terry Pollard, see Mark Stryker’s column in today’s Detroit Free Press.

I yield to no one in my admiration for Bob Brookmeyer, but Darcy James Argue gives me a good run for my money. Brookmeyer, the ground-breaking composer, arranger, leader and nonpareil valve trombone soloist, entered his ninth decade this week. Early in December, the Eastman School of Music honored him for his lifetime of achievement and he sat in with the students there. I cannot improve on the eloquence about Brookmeyer in Argue’s Secret Society web log. A sample:

Brookmeyer is one of the greatest living composers, full stop — that’s not hyperbole, that’s just how it is. He is also a tremendous soloist on valve trombone (Bob gave up the slide instrument at the earliest opportunity). His swing feeling is unstoppable and as authentic as it gets: he grew up in Kansas City in the 1930’s, and first heard the legendary Walter Page-Jo Jones edition of the Count Basie band live when he was all of eleven years old. (Bob says the experience “gave me my first full-body thrill.”) He is a true improviser, never reliant on stock licks or patterns, and is consistently inventive and surprising even on the most timeworn standards.

Argue includes five MP3 playbacks of some of Brookmeyer’s best big band work. He links to several other tributes and evaluations and to Brookmeyer’s own account of the Eastman event. To read — and listen to — the whole thing, go here.
Congratulations to Darcy on a fine installment, and happy birthday to Bob Brookmeyer, an American cultural treasure cherished abroad and overdue for official recognition by his country.

“Open Country” is one of Bob Brookmeyer’s notable compositions from the 1950s. Here, he plays it with Gerry Mulligan in Mulligan’s quartet. Wyatt “Bull” Ruther is the bassist, Gus Johnson the drummer/

Bill Mays, Mays at the Movies (Steeplechase). The pianist is a veteran of motion picture sound stages, but in this stimulating trio session he’s free from click tracks, conductors and scores. With bassist Peter Washington and drummer Billy Drummond, Mays interprets nine pieces from films as disparate as Cocoanut Grove (1938) and Burn After Reading (2008). Highlights: his thorough exploration of the love theme from ‘Spartacus;” the dazzling succession of key changes on “I’ve Never Been in Love Before,” in 5/4 time; the inventiveness in his multifaceted composition “Judy;” his interaction with Washington on “The Summer Knows;” Drummond’s cymbal splashes in “Charade.” Mays sings “You Leave Me Breathless” at least as well as Fred McMurray did in Cocoanut Grove, and personalizes the harmonic changes of that beautiful, neglected song.
James Weidman, Three Worlds (Inner Circle). No doubt because he has devoted much of his career to accompanying singers, pianist Weidman’s public image lags behind his talent and his respect in the jazz community. His stunning work with Joe Lovano (mentioned here) has helped to bring him to wider attention. This intriguing album may do more. The quintet pieces with reedman Marty Ehrlich and the shaggy-dog trombone of Ray Anderson are the most spectacular and entertaining, but Weidman’s work in trio and quartet settings is equally riveting for his touch, solo construction and rhythmic chance-taking. As in Lovano’s band, Weidman and drummer Francisco Mela have a symbiotic relationship that may arise from ESP. All of the compositions are Weidman’s but “Joshua Fit De Battle of Jericho,” which lends itself nicely to an adventurous treatment by Weidman, Mela and bassist Brad Jones.
Anne Drummond, Like Water (ObliqSound). After Drummond moved from Seattle to New York 10 years ago to study, pianist Kenny Barron, one of her teachers, was so impressed with her flute playing that he recruited her for his group Canta Brasil. Her first recording as a leader testifies to impressive development. The lightness, firmness and tonal exactness of her sound combine in this delightful recital with a feeling for the rhythmic and harmonic subtleties of post-bossa nova Brazilian music. Drummond’s arrangements and compositions for a chamber ensemble including violin and cello indicate a mature writing talent. The veteran Brazilians Nilson Matta on bass and drummer Duduka Da Fonseca are among the supporting cast. The pianist, impressive accompanying and soloing, is Klaus Mueller, except on one track with the always satisfying Xavier Davis

At the conclusion of the previous post, Crow’s Names, I wrote:

And that, unless a name shows up that reduces the staff to uncontrollable laughter or stunned admiration, ends this exercise in punditry.

Alan Broadbent met not one but both requirements. Say it aloud.

Darrell, Neville, Bea and Arthur Hugh

The Rifftides staff is pleased that the eminent bassist, raconteur and author Bill Crow reads the blog. Among his many activities, Mr. Crow writes the Band Room column in New York AFM Local 802’s Allegro monthly publication. Every now and then he contributes a Rifftides comment. Bill’s latest communiqué is in response to the Freddie Schreiber item in the following exhibit. It deserves wider exposure than it might get as a comment to that piece. I have taken the liberty of removing from his list names that duplicate those on Schreiber’s. Again, these names are best read aloud and not in the presence of those who fail to understand that, contrary to conventional wisdom, puns are the highest form of humor.

Musicians have been playing the name game for a long time, and I have no idea who started it, but back in April 1983 I ran a lot of names in the fourth column I wrote for Local 802’s Allegro, using a list I had gotten from trombonist Jack Gale, and adding some of my own inventions. Jack had collected his list from the Broadway show pits, where a lot of inventive people while away the minutes between musical numbers with word games, jokes, cartoons, etc. Funny ideas travel fast around the music world, and I imagine some of these came from Freddie.
Here’s Jack’s list:
Leader: Owen Guys
Vocalist: Rachel Prejudice
Trumpets: Kenny Makit, Diz Astor, Kent Reed, Noah Count
Bones: Hy Register, Slip Shod, Willie Show
Saxes: Les Tone, Don Swing, Al Thumbs
Percussion: Phil Din, Chick Boom and Perry Diddle
Guitar: Django Bells
Banjo: Ricky Tick
Harp: Anne Dante
Organ: Page Turner
Tuba: Sue Saphon
French Horn: Belle Tone
Vibes: Hal Mallet
Violins: Vi Bratto, Fay Kerr,
Viola: Vera Sharp
Cello: Beau Braker
Harpsichord: Aaron Variations
Asst. Conductor: Justin Case
Arranger: Walt Smedley
Copyist: L. Egible
Librarian: Miss Inga Page
Manager: Hiram Cheep
Band Boy: Manuel Labor
Agent: Gig Booker
Fan Club President: Doug DeBan
The ones I thought up were:
Trumpets: Al Tayket, Val Voyle, “Miles” Awai, “Diz” Lexia
Reeds: Reed Fleichit, Harlan Nocturne, Barry DeMelody, Chu Bertalli, Buddy Ansole, Rocco Caine
Bones: Amos B. Haven, Duncan Drisordley, Axel B. Hocht, Albie Laight
Tuba: Erasmus B. Dragon
Piano: “Changes” Kahn
Guitar: Acupulco Gold
Fender Bass: Basil Affendia
Drums: Burr Rumpum
Arranger: Kent Wright
Copyist: Don DeHatch
Sound Man: Hamp LeFeyer
Manager: Noah D’Vance
Conductor: Yul C. Sordplay
Asst. Conductor: Flayling Wilder
Vocalist: Wanda Lust
The guys on NPR’s Car Talk always come up with good names for their closing credits, like the attorneys Dewey, Cheatum and Howe. It’s a great game, and I’m glad to have Freddie’s list to add to my collection.

Click and Clack, the NPR car guys, have a chauffeur name Pickup Andropov.
And that, unless a name shows up that reduces the staff to uncontrollable laughter or stunned admiration, ends this exercise in punditry.

If you a follower of the occasional Rifftides discussions about the music and wit of the late bassist Freddie Schreiber, you know that his inventiveness overlapped into name creation. Dean Reilly, the San Francisco bassist who is an admirer of Schreiber on all fronts, provided what appears to be an authentic list of some of the names Freddie invented. Schreiber’s original names inspired imitations that can be found on many web sites. For now, we confine ourselves to a few from the, uh, Dean’s list. Say them aloud.
Trumpets:
Kenny Hackett
Willie Cuttett
Kent Makitt
Howie Wales
Al Tissimo
Trombones:
Lew Slips
Andy Bluett
Slide Downs
Saxophones:
Otto Tune
Manny Notes
Felix Cited
Justin Hale
Rhythm:
Thelonious Galantown
R. Peggio
Rad McHugh
Pete Zicatto
Vocalists:
Sonia Papermoon
Haddie Knownbettor
Chester Gigolo
Hugh Jassle
Carrie Mace
Myra Mance
Groupies:
Freda Slaves
Sybil Reitz
Manuel Lehbah
Marsha Dymes
Barbara Seville
Jim Nasium
Isaac Cited
Tyrone Shoelace
Various:
Hiram Cheap — agent
Arturo Verceez — booker
Sacha Deal — booker
Oliver DeRhode — driver
Randolph A. Cliff — backup driver

I had never heard of Chris Dawson until this morning, when a link to a video showed up in a friend’s e-mail message. The message contained rave blurbs about Dawson from Alan Broadbent, Charlie Haden, Dave Frishberg, Dick Hyman, Gary Foster, John Clayton and Bob Sheppard. The endorsements got my attention. The video was a shortened version of a longer film story about a pianist’s miraculous recovery from a hand injury that had ended his playing and put him on the street.
In the clip, Dawson was riveting, with piano work combining stride and bebop. Many latter-day forays into stride end up sounding imitative and automated. Naturalness, ease, harmonic flexibility and a gift for melodic line give his playing authenticity. I must confess that I was also taken with scenes of my old Southern California stomping grounds in the San Fernando Valley and along the Pacific Coast Highway. But the playing is the thing, as you will see and hear in this unedited clip of the film. It may win no Academy Award for acting or direction, but the premise is charming. It runs a little over six minutes.

Evidently, Dawson has been making waves in the Los Angeles area for some time, and has also worked in New York, but he had escaped me. I’m glad to have encountered him. Dawson’s web site has biographical information–however sketchy–about this stealth pianist, and more video clips.

The first snowfall of the season is on the ground. This was the morning view from an upstairs bedroom.

That gives me a reason, though none is required, to bring you the original recording of “Snowfall” by Claude Thornhill and his orchestra. Thornhill composed and arranged the song. The recording is from 1941, shortly after he formed his band. The photo montage looks as if it could be from the same period.

For a brief history and discography of Claude Thornhill, go here. “Snowfall” and several of the pieces arranged by Gil Evans that led to what we now call the birth of the cool are on this CD. Note that the list price is astronomical but the used copies are bargains.

My intention was to create something new and arresting, an orchestra different from others on the scene – I wrote sixty arrangements to start with.

We rehearsed every afternoon, rain or shine. Perfect intonations in the sections and balance of the overall sound of the orchestra were emphasized.

With the exception of certain places in our arrangements, the orchestra played without vibrato. Vibrato was used to heighten expressiveness.

It seems to me that touch and tone are pretty much overlooked by pianists who are leading bands nowadays. You can get so many more and better musical effects if you pay attention to those little, shall I say, niceties.

What do Jeremy Eichler and I have in common? We are out of room for the thousands of CDs that show up when you commit music criticism. Eichler is the classical music critic of The Boston Globe. Some time ago, I wrote about a temporary solution that I applied to the problem of limited shelf space. Eichler has taken a more drastic step. He is putting his collection where the only space consideration is the capacity of his hard drive. His article in today’s Globe begins:

Piles of CDs surround me. I have been feeding them into my computer to suck the music out of them. And then I pack them away.

Further along in the piece, Eichler laments the psychic loss when he consigns music to a realm where tangible evidence of its existence cannot follow.

To begin with, there is nothing left to hold in our hands. Recordings have of course always been physical objects, ever since the first known recording device, a phonautograph, was created in France in the mid-1800s. Its inventor did not design it to play back a song – he could not conceive of such a thing – but merely to visualize the music as lines on paper. Before we could dream of reproducing sound, we simply wanted to hold it.
And still do. A recording documents the presence of musicians who are no longer there, but the thing itself can stand in for them, can mediate our relationship to the music we are hearing. We like to turn it over, gaze at the cover art, devour its liner notes, and arrange it on a shelf in a way that gives it meaning in the context of the other albums we own.

To read all of Eichler’s piece, go here. And if you decide to follow his lead, be sure that your computer has a reliable backup system.

In the center column, slightly south, you will find the latest Rifftides recommendations in Doug’s Picks. We suggest two new CDs, an imperishable 50-year-old recording, a DVD of a blistering big band and a book held over from last time because reading hours have been few and far between around here lately and I’m not going to pretend I’ve read something I haven’t.
Enjoy.

On the Jazzhouse web site, W. Royal Stokes posts a valuable column recommending recent jazz, blues and pop photography and art books. It is an extensive list, just in time for Christmas. Stokes gives each book a thorough paragraph of review and a link to an online source for purchase. Here is some of what he writes about Hank O’Neal’s Ghosts of Harlem, a recent Doug’s Pick:

That he shot them with an ancient wooden view camera, setting up lights, inserting a plate, and throwing a cloth over his head and the instrument (shades of Matthew Brady!) says much about his determination to capture that “moment of truth” in the best possible light. Which he did in image after image.

I was surprised and pleased to find that Mr. Stokes included Take Five: The Public and Private Lives of Paul Desmond despite its being a biography, not a picture book. Now I am even happier that the publisher insisted on lots of photographs.