Veteran Bay Area pianist and trumpeter Dick Vartanian writes:

My brother-in-law was entertainment chairman of the Lion’s club in the early 1970s. They put on a benefit for the blind every year. He asked me if I could get some people to appear.

George Shearing was in San Francisco, so I asked him. His reply, as expected, was a direct yes. He played a few numbers with his trio and then announced to the audience that he had taken the liberty to bring a friend. At that point they played an intro and from the wings came, “Did you say you have a lot to learn?” followed by you know who.

The audience reaction was wonderful.

No doubt, especially if You Know Who sang as he did in the album they made together for Shearing’s Sheba label in 1971, and if Shearing dug into his store of harmonic knowledge as he does in this medley. It was assembled from the recording by YouTube contributor David Speed.

For my first New York visit in too long, nature trumped the forecasters and gave us a beautiful morning. This was the view from my host’s apartment across the Hudson River to Fort Lee, New Jersey

Let’s hope that the weather holds for the Dave Brubeck memorial tomorrow. The service is late in the day. The Rifftides plan is to post a report on Sunday.

So many CDs, so little time. There are hundreds of review copies stacked up around here and no immediate hope of writing in depth about more than one or two. Therefore, I shall write not in depth about several. These mentions—a bit longer than tweets—point you toward albums that have impressed me on first or second listenings, CDs that I would like to hear again.

Tommy Flanagan, Jaki Byard, The Magic of 2 (Resonance)

In this previously unissued 1982 collaboration from San Francisco’s Keystone Korner, Todd Barkan introduces the pianists as two of the instrument’s “greatest virtuosos.” They then set about proving it at two grand pianos in six brilliant duets and three solo pieces each. Not identified by right channel-left channel separation, in the duets they meld and contrast in performances that sound like products of four hands directed by one mind. This is a treasure.

When Antonio Carlos Jobim, Joao Gilberto, Johnny Alf and other Brazilians were developing bossa nova in the 1950s, their influences included musicians on the west coast of the United States, among them Chet Baker. In turn, Baker’s music affected the development of many young Brazilian musicians. Two of them have acknowledged Baker in new albums devoted to music that he sang and played.

Luciana Souza, The Book of Chet (Sunnyside)

At tempos putting her in contention for the world championship of slow singing, Souza caresses 10 ballads. The sections of vocalise in her heartbreaking treatment of “I Get Along Without You Very Well” and other songs show thorough understanding of Baker’s musicality. Larry Koonse’s guitar work at the head of the accompanying trio makes him a co-star of the album. In a CD released at the same time, Souza continues her series of duets with outstanding Brazilian guitarists in Duos III, including a breathtaking “Doralice” with Romero Lubambo.

Eliane Elias, I Thought About You (Concord)

Elias’s 14-song tribute to Baker duplicates only one piece in Souza’s Baker collection. Her fundamentally sunny approach highlights her singing and piano playing, with bassist Marc Johnson, drummer Victor Lewis, trumpeter Randy Brecker and guitarist Oscar Castro-Neves among the other musicians. Elias and Brecker shine in solo on “That Old Feeling” and “Just Friends.” She gives “Let’s Get Lost” a bright bossa treatment. Her way with “You Don’t Know What Love Is” recalls the wistfulness in Baker’s own recordings of a song that became a permanent part of his repertoire.

Ivo Perelman, Matthew Shipp, Michael Bisio, The Gift (Leo Records)

A Brazilian tenor saxophonist of Elias’s and Souza’s generation, Perelman operates largely free of restrictions, including those of the normal range of his instrument. He sometimes takes it from the low register up into sopranino territory. He and his frequent pianist partner Matthew Shipp have recorded together profusely in a series of albums that can be startling one moment and all but becalmed in serenity the next. The Gift, with the remarkable Michael Bisio joining them on bass, is one their most satisfying joint ventures, not least because of the wryness of their humor. “A Ride On A Camel,” a descriptive title if there ever was one, is a case in point.

Kenny Wheeler Big Band, The Long Waiting (CamJazz)

Wheeler’s playing and arranging will be immediately identifiable to anyone even slightly familiar with his work. The composer and flugelhornist’s first big band album in more than two decades displays his customary virtuosity in all areas. Now 83, he plays with melodic inventiveness, harmonic daring and technical virtuosity that can raise eyebrows. Wheeler’s writing for the 19-piece band achieves excitement and passion while at the same time triggering feelings of nostalgia and melancholy. The band is filled with some of London’s most accomplished jazz soloists and studio musicians. With her vocalese, Diana Torto plays a role as valuable as that of any of the instrumentalists. I have been known rail against albums made up only of original compositions. I’m not railing against Wheeler’s. They are dazzling.

Sandy Stewart & Bill Charlap, Something To Remember (Ghostlight)

The pianist’s and his mom’s second album—following their 2005 Love Is Here to Stay—finds them as compatible as they have been since he was a baby. Headed for a big career after her 1963 hit “My Coloring Book,” Ms. Stewart set it aside to raise Bill and her other children with her husband, the composer Moose Charlap. Following Charlap, Sr.’s death, she reestablished herself in music, reminding listeners of her way with phrasing and the meaning of lyrics. This intimate collection of ballads has a superb version of Johnny Mandel’s and the Bergmans’ “Where Do You Start?” and a touching interpretation of Moose Charlap’s “I Was Telling Him About You. ” Throughout, there is son Bill’s signature keyboard touch and way with chords.

Larry Willis, This Time The Dream’s On Me (High Note)

Willis’s decades as one of the great journeyman pianists in jazz and the high regard for him in the profession have nonetheless left him strangely obscure in relation to the size of his talent. Anyone wondering why, won’t find the answer in this solo piano album. His playing on seven classic songs and three of his compositions has fullness of imagination and command of the instrument that throughout his career have had him in demand by groups as diverse as those of Cannonball Adderley, Blood, Sweat and Tears, The Fort Apache Band and Roy Hargrove. Willis’s loving care of Duke Ellington’s “Single Petal of a Rose,” his “Silly Blues,”—which is anything but silly—and an expansive “It Could Happen to You” indicate the breadth of his talent.

Eddie Daniels & Roger Kellaway, Duke At The Roadhouse (IPO)

You might think that Daniels and Kellaway were going off on a free jazz tangent in “I’m Beginning to See the Light,” if it wasn’t apparent that they were working from an arrangement. Whether the arrangement was on paper is beside the point. It may have been a product of the intuition that the clarinetist and saxophonist and the pianist have shared for years. “Arrangements while you wait,” musicians sometimes say in such spontaneous situations. Oh yes: the point. The point is that Daniels and Kellaway play just short of an hour of music by or associated with Duke Ellington, plus one original apiece, and they have their usual rollicking good time. There’s an added element here, harking back to Kellaway’s celebrated cello quartets. On some pieces, classical cellist James Holland sits in and executes perfect jazz solos. Kellaway wrote the solos for Holland, whose feeling for jazz phrasing allowed him to play them as if he’d concocted them on the spot. This music was recorded before an audience at a theater in Santa Fe, New Mexico, but it has the road house spirit.

Preservation Hall Jazz Band, 50th Anniversary Collection (Columbia Legacy)

This collection revives memories of signing off the 10 o’clock news and wandering through the French Quarter from Royal Street to St. Peter to spend a few minutes, or an hour, with the tourists enjoying the Preservation Hall band. One of the earliest tracks of the four discs happened a few days before I arrived in 1966 for the first of my two stints in New Orleans. The Preservationists had George Lewis, clarinet; De De Pierce, cornet; Billie Pierce, piano; Big Eye Louis Nelson, trombone; Narvin Kimball, banjo; Chester Zardis, bass; and Cie Frazier, drums. That’s a tough band to beat for Crescent City authenticity. For the most part, later editions capture the spirit if not always the individuality of what I tend to think of as the George Lewis band, even though under the hall’s banner it was essentially leaderless. I was lucky to be there during Preservation Hall’s golden age. Hearing this set, which covers 1962 to 2009, I feel lucky again. Maybe the golden age continues.

There will be a public memorial service for Dave Brubeck in New York City next Saturday, May 11. Brubeck died last December at the age of 91. Along with, no doubt, hundreds of others I will be at the service in the cavernous Cathedral Of St. John The Divine on the upper west side of Manhattan.

A little known video of a Brubeck quartet performance recently surfaced. The other musicians are Jerry Bergonzi, tenor saxophone; Chris Brubeck, electric bass; and Randy Jones, drums. The piece is “All My Hope” from Brubeck’s mass To Hope: A Celebration, which premiered in 1980. This section of a Montreal television broadcast is almost certainly from 1980 rather than 1981, as YouTube indicates. It recalls the pleasure the pianist took in Bergonzi’s harmonic compatibility and daring during the saxophonist’s year or two with the quartet.

For information about the memorial service, including the list of performers paying tribute, click here.

This is the birthday of John Lewis (1920-2001), the pianist and music director of the Modern Jazz Quartet. Many of his compositions are staples of the jazz repertoire. None is better known than “Django,” named for the Belgian Gypsy guitarist who was the first European musician to become a major jazz figure. Lewis discussed the piece and his reason for writing it in a television appearance with Billy Taylor. The clip is a reminder of the pleasantness of John’s personality and the understated strength of his playing. After we see and hear him play “Django,” we’ll listen to Django Reinhardt and the Quintet of the Hot Club of France from 1940. This was Reinhardt’s first recording of his own most famous composition, “Nuages.” You may be able to detect a harmonic source of Lewis’s inspiration.

The Jazz Journalists Association today announced its members’ choices for the 2013 JJA awards. The organization honored saxophonist and composer Wayne Shorter with its lifetime achievement award. Trumpeter and composer Wadada Leo Smith was named musician of the year. Centennial: Newly Discovered Works of Gil Evans is the JJA’s record of the year.

 In addition, there are 26 jazz heroes, described as “activists, advocates, altruists, aiders and abettors of jazz who have had significant impact in their local communities.” For the names and photographs of winners in all 29 music categories, plus the heroes, go to this page at the JJA Website.

As a part of the Evans Centennial project, here is Chris Hunter featured on alto saxophone in a concert a year ago. We hear the Evans arrangement of Charles Mingus’s “Goodbye Porkpie Hat.” The baritone saxophone soloist is Howard Johnson, the guitar soloist Oz Noy.

The members of this edition of the Gil Evans Orchestra:

Drums, Kenwood Dennard
Bass, Mark Egan
Guitar, Ryo Kawasaki
Guitar, Oz Noy
Keyboards, Gil Goldstein
Keyboards, Delmar Brown
Baritone Sax, Howard Johnson
Tenor Sax, Alex Foster
Alto Sax, Chris Hunter
Tenor Sax, Billy Harper
French Horn, John Clark
Tuba, Bob Stewart
Trumpet, Miles Evans
Trumpet, Lew Soloff
Trumpet, Jon Faddis
Trombone, Conrad Herwig
Trombone, David Bargeron
Trombone, Tom”Bones”Malone
Bass Trombone, Dave Taylor

This is International Jazz Day. It was celebrated in a massive concert streamed live from Istanbul. Herbie Hancock gave the keynote speech and hosted the webcast. To watch and listen to it replayed, click here.

Here it is the night of Duke Ellington’s 114th birthday and Rifftides has left you bereft of a flowery tribute to his genius, immortality, indispensability and __________ (fill in the blank). Instead, let’s see all of that in action in a clip from the 1930 RKO film Check and Double Check.

Trumpets: Freddie Jenkins, Cootie Williams & Arthur Whetsol.
Trombones: Joe (Tricky Sam) Nanton & Juan Tizol (valve trombone).
Reeds: Harry Carney, Johnny Hodges, Barney Bigard.
Rhythm: Ellington (p), Sonny Greer (dr), Fred Guy (gtr), Wellman Braud (b).
Solos: trumpet, Jenkins; baritone saxophone, Carney; soprano saxophone, Hodges.

Did RKO brass order the makeup staff to blacken Juan Tizol’s face? Could be. In those days, movie executives were a bit nervous about mingling the races on screen. Bill Robinson and Shirley Temple in The Little Colonel were five years off.

That was not Ellington’s first film appearance. His Hollywood debut seems to have been five years earlier, a discovery announced today by The Library of Congress. The library’s blog posted details on this anniversary of Ellington’s birth. To see the explanation by their moving image maven Mike Mashon and a brief (extremely brief) clip, click on this link. After watching it several times, I concluded that the blink-of-an-eye scene runs from 37 seconds to 41 seconds of the sequence. I lifted a still from the movie and blew it up, but unless the sharp focus of your vision is better than mine, we’ll have to take Mr. Mashon’s word for what we’re seeing.

All that aside, to paraphrase what Ellington often said to audiences following a Johnny Hodges solo, as if addressing the deity:

Thank you for Duke Ellington.

This spring, the lilacs seem to have blossomed a bit earlier than usual. They are everywhere in this big valley, in shades from snow white to purple so deep it’s almost black. We have three banks of lilac bushes In our south 40. The one at the bottom end is the biggest and most glorious. Here are a couple of glimpses. Unfortunately, I can’t offer you the aroma.

What does this have to with jazz? It needn’t have anything to do with it; the subtitle of the blog is, “…on jazz and other matters.” But if you insist, we can work out a connection. We don’t have much rain around here now, which is fine with fruit growers worried about blossom damage. We have high winds sweeping down off the Cascade Mountains, which is not fine with cyclists and runners.

So, here’s the somewhat strained connection to the title of this post, which has some of the same words as the name of the song. “Lilacs in the Rain is a splendid popular song from the late 1930s. It was written by Peter DeRose as a piano piece. Mitchell Parish, the lyricist of “Stardust,” added words. The song became a hit, giving DeRose three hits in 1939. The other two were “Deep Purple” and “The Lamp is Low.” Several people recorded “Lilacs in the Rain” that year, including the bands of Charlie Barnet and Bob Crosby, the latter with Crosby’s vocal. As far as I know, Bob’s brother did not make a commercial recording of the piece but, trust me, Bing sang it better. Here he is in a recently discovered air check from his Kraft Music Hall radio program.

The arranger (John Scott Trotter?) deserves mention for those hip little interludes he placed in the 16 instrumental bars between Crosby’s first and final choruses.

Over the next 25 or 30 years, many people recorded the song, among them artists as diverse as CarmenMcRae, the doowop vocal group The Ravens, Junior Mance and Carl Perkins—not the “Blue Suede Shoes” Carl Perkins, but the pianist who was an important part of jazz on the west coast in the 1950s. Perkins played with Chet Baker, Harold Land, Dexter Gordon, Buddy DeFranco and the Max Roach-Clifford Brown group, among others. We see him here at a club date in Vancouver, BC, with the Curtis Counce quintet, between bassist Counce and tenor saxophonist Land. Frank Butler is on drums, Jack Sheldon on Trumpet.

Perkins’s “Lilacs in the Rain” is on the one album he made as a leader. The bassist is Leroy Vinnegar, the drummer Larance Marable.

Perkins died in 1958 at the age of 29.

In notes for the 1998 issue of Kenny Dorham: Blues in Bebop, I wrote:

More than a quarter-century after his death, Kenny Dorham is a beacon of encouragement shining across the landscape populated by young jazz musicians. In a generation of imitators, a few perceptive players have discovered Dorham’s lyricism, his magic with harmony, the wistfulness of his tone, and his articulation, which is like intimate speech. Dorham’s compositions increasingly make their way into repertoires and his “Blue Bossa” has deservedly become a standard.

KD’s hometown has honored its famous son with the plaque pictured above and a festival named after him. The main event takes place tomorrow night in Fairfield, Texas, a town of 3,000 about halfway between Dallas and Houston. For details and to read about the tribute, see this article in the Freestone County Times.

For a taste of Dorham’s lyricism and ability to construct a cogent melody “right through a chord structure,” as Charlie Shoemake put it after the last time we posted this video, here is a snippet that seems to be the only known film of Dorham performing. His rhythm section at the Golden Circle in Stockholm in 1963 was Goran Lindberg, piano; Goran Peterson, bass; and Leif Wennerstron, drums.

If you’re in the market for a more extensive KD fix, this YouTube page may meet your need.

When buried in deadlines and unable to create sparkling new material, give ‘em some Charlie Parker, that’s my motto.

Here is Parker on September 15, 1944, at the WOR studios in New York City. The leader on the record date was guitarist Lloyd “Tiny” Grimes. The other musicians are Clyde Hart, an important pianist in the transition from swing to bebop; Jimmy Butts, bass; and Harold “Doc” West, drums. “Red Cross,” is one of 3,427 (or so) jazz compositions based on the form and harmonies of George Gershwin’s “I Got Rhythm.” Have you ever wondered what swing and bop musicians would have done for material if Gershwin hadn’t written “I Got Rhythm” and “Lady, Be Good?” This tune was named not in honor of the American Red Cross, but for Bob Redcross, Billy Eckstine’s valet, who was a sometime drummer.

When buried in deadlines and unable to create sparkling new material, give ‘em some Charlie Parker, that’s my motto.

This box set (that’s a link) has all of the tracks from Parker’s Tiny Grimes session and dozens of other recordings of early Bird.

Oh, all right. One more.

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The Stan Getz video posted here over the weekend drew an array of comments from Rifftides readers. One of them was from his daugher Bev, who took impassioned exception to praise for the late Don Maggin’s Getz biography. In response, I sent Ms. Getz a private message about the last time I spoke with her father. She asked if I would post the story.

I think it was in 1988 or ’89 that your dad played at one of Ken Poston’s West Coast Jazz celebrations. The concert was at a theater in Hermosa Beach. We got there early, and I wandered around for a while. In the parking lot behind the theater, I saw Stan sitting alone on a low cement barrier and went over to say hello.

“Who is it?” he said.

I told him. He focused those incredible blue eyes on me for several seconds, then said, “I think I owe you an apology.” He did, for something that happened more than two decades earlier. I accepted, we shook hands, and I continued my stroll.

The next time I saw Lou Levy, which was often in those days, without resurrecting what the apology was for I told him of the encounter. Lou said, “Yeah, he’s been doing that a lot lately.” I know that toward the end Lou visited Stan regularly in Malibu. He cherished the friendship that began in their days with Woody Herman. He often mentioned it. I miss them both.

In return, Ms. Getz sent this, printed with her permission:

He really wasn’t a monster. Yes, he was a haunted soul, but the drugs and alcohol made him ugly. That ugliness wasn’t the ‘real’ Stan, revealed. His heart was truly good. I’ve seen chemicals change people in the most shocking ways. So sad.

Two days before he passed, Lou, Shorty Rogers and Johnny Mandel came to the house to see him. The three of them stood in front of him with tears streaming down their faces. Dad looked like an Auschwitz victim at that point (the way that cancer can ravage a body) and he had basically lost his voice. I’ll never forget the way he looked at his three friends. If I can put it into words, it would be something like…”What the hell are you guys crying about?? I’m not dead yet! Tell me some jokes! Talk about good times past! Cry at my funeral, but I don’t want to see your effin’ tears now”! I had to take them aside and ask them to please try and put on a brave face, for their friend’s sake, which they absolutely did!

This memory has never left me. As clear today as it was then, June 4, 1991. A Tuesday.

On her YouTube page, Ms. Getz presents a variety of videos featuring her father, including this 1969 appearance on French television by his quartet with Flora Purim.

Please see the previous post for the first installment.

BENNY CARTER, PART 2
By Jeff Sultanof

In 1999, I went to Los Angeles to celebrate New Year’s Eve with Jerry Graff, my mentor and second father, as well as to visit with Gene Lees and Roger Kellaway. I got a call from Ed Berger to see Benny; he was sorting out his catalog and needed some guidance. I went to his beautiful home in Beverly Hills. Carter immediately took me aback when he said, “I understand you are a very fine arranger.” He introduced me to his wife Hilma and we sat down in his living room, surrounded by gorgeous African art.

Carter had an interesting problem. During the late 1950s through to 1960s, Benny was working at Revue Studios, which was the television arm of Universal Pictures. He wrote many hours of music for various television shows, most notably “M-Squad” (now available on DVD). His boss was a man named Stanley Wilson, who supervised the music for the company. Wilson gave many composers their starts in writing for film and television; Carter, Elmer Bernstein, Dave Grusin, Quincy Jones, Juan Garcia Esquivel, Oliver Nelson, Lalo Schifrin and John Williams (when he was still known as Johnny Williams). Wilson kept them very busy.

What was the problem Berger wanted me to help Benny with? Carter was putting together a master list of all of his compositions, and was trying to sort out his work for Revue. When a composer wrote a score for television, in some cases the cues (individual pieces of music written as underscoring) would go into a library to be re-used in other shows to save time and money. CBS did the same thing: there were compositions by Bernard Herrmann, Nathan Van Cleave, Fred Steiner and Jerry Goldsmith in their collection. This was perfectly legal, since the composers wrote this music as work-for-hire. As long as they were paid royalties, it was a true win-win situation because a TV show generated composer monies when it was seen anywhere in the world, and the music continued to be used in new TV series. I suggested to Benny that some of his cues may have been cut or altered and given new names, creating new compositions which were unknown to him since he didn’t own the music. “As long as they are paying me,” he said. Obviously, these old shows were still in reruns. He told me that his royalty checks were healthy. “They help me continue the lifestyle to which Hilma and I are accustomed,” he grinned. He never did finish the list, but the encounter was a great opportunity to sit and visit with him.

At lunch, I told him of my dream that his music be properly published and available. He was enthusiastic about the idea; he was pleased with the book Hal Leonard had already published and fully expected to continue his association with them. His pianist, Chris Neville, was assembling a book of his lead sheets, and Benny wanted me to work on it with him. Neither project happened. I offered to work on the lead sheet book gratis, but Benny found that unacceptable.

Earlier, I said that Benny has finally found an appreciative audience that loves his music and loves to play it. This phase of his career began when he started teaching at Princeton University in 1969. He revised his earlier scores and continued to write new music, initially for students and then later for concerts with all-star bands. I’ve spoken to one or two students who studied with him while he was at Princeton, and they described a warm, gracious, highly skilled musician who was open to any kind of music. It is clear that he changed their lives.

Sierra Music published his Kansas City Suite for Count Basie. Many middle and high schools in the U.S. now have at least one of the sections in their books. Here was true educational music: written for professionals, playable by amateurs and students. The writing is perfect for training an ensemble to become an even better one, and the chord structures are interesting but basic enough for young improvisers. Now, a lot of young players know who Benny is. Jazz Lines Publications now has an agreement with the Carter estate; 29 Carter compositions and arrangements have been released so far (many for big band, but some for saxophone ensemble), and they are among the company’s biggest sellers, to the surprise and delight of Ed Berger and Hilma Carter. There is more to come: more compositions (some quite modern) and even arrangements that he prepared for vocalists. Quite a few of the works are at Brigham Young University, repository of a collection of scores recorded for Capitol Records.

The beauty of great art is that it lives on to entertain, enlighten and inspire people many years after it was created. Benny Carter’s music has finally come into its own with those who will keep the tradition of big bands and combos alive for many years to come.

Jeff’s previous Rifftides piece concerned Gerry Mulligan’s unperformed arrangement of “Yardbird Suite” for Charlie Parker and strings. It came in two parts, here and here, and it contains a link to a synthesized performance of the arrangement.

There may have been times—no, there were times—when Stan Getz worked overtime to be unpleasant. Zoot Sims had his reasons for describing Getz as “an interesting bunch of guys.” It is not likely that Sims had in mind moments like those in this video. Rifftides reader Jeff Chang sent a tip about a film Getz made in 1969 in France. It turns out that his quartet was engaged to play background music for a fashion show. If you think that was an unusual gig for a major musician still riding the wave of popularity generated by his bossa nova hits, watch Getz and see how you think he felt about it. Be patient, please; a printed announcement in French precedes the fun and games.

Getz’s quartet with pianist Stanley Cowell, bassist Miroslav Vitous and drummer Jack DeJohnette was a short-lived group. In 1969 they recorded one superb album for the discount label Laserlight. Thirty years later, Verve reissued it.

Have a good weekend.

You can help assure that you do if you take this hint from Jim Wilke about a broadcast featuring an all-star group (term used advisedly) of west coast musicians:

Chuck Deardorf – Dave Peterson Group next on Jazz Northwest from 88.5, KPLU

A Seattle all-star group played this month’s Art of Jazz concert at The Seattle Art Museum. Co-led by Chuck Deardorf on bass and Dave Peterson on guitar, the group also includes Rich Cole on tenor sax, Bill Anschell, piano, and John Bishop on drums. Highlights from the concert will air on Jazz Northwest, 88.5 KPLU on Sunday, April 21 at 2 PM PDT and stream at kplu.org.

Sometimes I get buried in deadline work and through neglect or “a kind of monumental inefficiency” (to borrow a favorite Paul Desmondism), I let a day or two go by without putting something new on Rifftides. Then, it gets to be ‘round midnight and it occurs to me that I have committed what my blog guru long ago said was the ultimate weblog goof—dead air, white space, or whatever it’s called on the internet. So, not having the foresight to stockpile shelf pieces, I flail about looking for inspiration in hopes of finding something that will preserve the integrity of the operation or, at least, be entertaining.

“Whoa!” as Burma Jones (speaking of monumental inefficiency) often said, look who came to the rescue this time: Lester Perkins, the proprietor of Jazz on the Tube. His latest video borrowed from YouTube features Erroll Garner in the BBC studios in London in 1964. So, I’m borrowing from Lester’s borrowing.

Launching into a song and taking his sweet time about it, Erroll indulges in one of his favorite pastimes, keeping his sidemen guessing. Notice the bassist, Eddie Calhoun, as he and drummer Kelly Martin remain at the ready while the boss goes exploring. Eventually, Garner lets them in on the plan and, ultimately, finds his inner Fats Waller.

Whoa!

Rifftides readers in the New York metropolitan area, or planning to visit it, may care to make note of an unusual performance coming up this week. Soprano saxophonist Bill Kirchner, pianist Marc Copland and vocalist Carol Fredette will make a rare collaborative appearance on Wednesday evening, April 17, at The Players. Ordinarily, the private club on Gramercy Park South is open only to members, but membership is not required for this occasion. The National Jazz Museum in Harlem, co-sponsor of the event, posted comments about the musicians:

Jazz at the Players

“Bill Kirchner is one of those rare musicians who is able to synthesize an awareness of the past with his own voice, taking jazz in new directions that are firmly based on tradition.”—Benny Carter

“Carol Fredette is everything you need in a jazz singer. She thinks, swings and phrases like a creative instrumentalist, yet her way with words captures the essence of a lyric.”—Dan Morgenstern, author, jazz historian, critic

On Marc Copland “A quiet giant of his instrument…the stuff of legend.”—All About Jazz.com

To my knowledge, no recording exists of Kirchner, Fredette and Copland together. Perhaps one will materialize from the Players gig. In the meantime, here’s Copland with a solo version of Don Sebesky’s “You Can’t Go Home Again” from the pianist’s album Time Within Time.

This is Herbie Hancock’s 73rd birthday. According to YouTube, the version of his “Canteloupe Island” below has been watched by 6,770,455 viewers. If you’re seeing it for the first time, congratulations. If you’re seeing it for the 6,770,456th time, hearty congratulations. Whoever posted the video doesn’t know how to spell canteloupe, but that seems of little concern to Mr. Hancock, Dave Holland, Jack DeJohnette and Pat Metheny.

Herbie Hancock, 1940-2013, and going strong.