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Doug Ramsey on Jazz and other matters...

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Other Matters: Demagoguery

Poodie 169 X 260With the Republican nominating convention in the US presidential race underway, a passage in the novel Poodie James comes to mind. The mayor, Torgerson, is trying to drive Poodie, the title character, out of town, claiming that he’s connected with a civic threat from hobos who camp along the railroad tracks. Poodie and one of the hobos are heroes because they recently rescued the engineer from the locomotive of a burning freight train. The publisher of the local newspaper, Winifred Stone, is discussing the situation with her editor and thinking of a recent meeting with an acquaintance of Poodie who may be a madam. The editor says, “What I don’t understand is what he hopes to gain by going after Poodie James.”

Winifred Stone stood at her office window in The Dispatch watching cars go in and out of the hotel garage on the corner. She thought of her conversation with Angie Karn.

“He seems to have friends all over town, all kinds,” she said. “The mayor thinks he can tar Poodie with the hobo brush. In a funny way, Poodie’s joining the hobo in the rescue might help Torgerson’s cause. It’s hard for me to imagine that people think much about hobos one way or the other around here, but it wouldn’t be the first time a politician was able to get the populace stirred up about an imaginary threat. Demagoguery works.”

Other Places: Bill Crow on Dave McKenna

Bill Crow smilingBassist Bill Crow’s column “The Band Room” is an event New York musicians look forward to each month. It appears in Allegro, the newspaper of Local 802 of the American Federation of Musicians. As readers of Bill’s books know, he is a superb anecdotist who tells stories about jazz artists and, often, musicians in other disciplines. In the current issue, he remembers a pianist whose artistic scope, adaptability, swing and idiosyncratic personality made him a favorite of a wide variety of musicians and listeners. With Bill’s permission, here is the column.

The Band Room
by Bill Crow

Dave McKenna (1930-2008) was a one-of-a-kind piano player. He often denied that he was a jazz player, even though he was steeped in the music. “I’m a song player,” he would say, and he certainly played all the wonderful songsDave McKenna in the American songbook. He liked to group songs in a set by themes. Sometimes a medley would be all songs about rain, sometimes about happiness, sometimes about a color, or once in a while just songs by the same composer. He would explore each tune harmonically, wandering from stride to bebop to romanticism, and usually making everything swing like mad.

I got to know Dave playing jam sessions with Zoot Sims, and then playing with him at Eddie Condon’s club. Eddie’s manager had talked him into only hiring a bass player with his sextet on weekends, so Dave was always glad to see me every Friday. He played the bass lines himself on Tuesdays, Wednesdays and Thursdays, and got to be very good at it. He incorporated walking bass lines into his solo piano style in a very original way.

Dave was a great admirer of food and drink, and when the liquor outbalanced the food, he could be a belligerent companion. He was broad shouldered and strong, and nobody to mess with when in his cups. We lived near each other in Chelsea for a while, and I remember running into him on the street one morning and saying to him, “You were in pretty rough shape last night at the Half Note.” “I don’t want to hear about it!” he growled. Toward the end of his life, physical problems began to interfere with his playing, but he plowed ahead, playing gorgeously even when in pain. He once said to me, “I suppose if I do what the doctor tells me and cut down on the rich food and the booze, I’ll live a little longer. But how will I know for sure?”

I always keep one of Dave’s solo records in my car to keep me company while driving to gigs. He sure knew how to cheer a guy up.

Here’s proof. Dick Gibson introduces McKenna at one of Gibson’s celebrated Colorado jazz parties in the early 1980s.

Bill Crow’s current “Band Room” column includes a story about the actor Paul Newman coming to the rescue of an embattled group of musicians hired to play an outdoor wedding gig. To read it and the rest of Bill’s July column, go here.

Passings: Friedman, Jones, Thompson

The generations move on. It’s a sad part of an observer’s task to acknowledge the deaths of musicians who made important contributions.

Don FriedmanPianist Don Friedman died of pancreatic cancer at home in New York City on June 30. He was 81. Friedman was treasured by fellow musicians for the subtlety and strength of his support as an accompanist and for the daring ingenuity of his harmonies. He was equally at home with traditionalist Bobby Hackett; modern mainstreamers Clark Terry, Chet Baker and Lee Konitz; and free jazz iconoclasts Ornette Coleman and Eric Dolphy. This Friedman quotation from my notes for his last album, Nite Lites, indicates a major source of his inspiration.

I love contemporary modern music,” Don said. “Great classical composers inspire me. I’ve listened a lot to Schoenberg, Berg, Webern, Stravinvsky, Prokofiev, Stockhausen, Bartok. They inspire me to try to make sounds like theirs.

Here is Friedman at the Jazz Baltica Festival in 2006 with bassist Martin Wind and a drummer whom YouTube does not identify.

Randy Jones, who played drums with Dave Brubeck for more than thirty years, Randy Jonesdied on June 17 in New York. A London studio musician who moved to the United States in 1973 to work with Maynard Ferguson’s big band, he played with Chet Baker, Buddy DeFranco and the big bands of Bill Watrous and Harry James, among others, before he joined Brubeck. In the Brubeck quartet, he occupied the slot long filled by Joe Morello and, like Morello, specialized in soloing on Paul Desmond’s composition “Take Five.”

Chris Brubeck, Dave’s trombonist and bassist son, played often with Jones in his father’s groups. He told me recently, “Sometimes Randy swung harder than I thought was humanly possible.”

Sir Charles ThompsonThree days following Jones’s death, pianist Sir Charles Thompson died at the age of 98. As talented as an arranger and leader as he was at the keyboard, Thompson was one of the great mainstream eclectics, bridging the swing and bebop eras. A combo he led and recorded in 1945 included bop saxophonists Charlie Parker and Dexter Gordon and swing trumpeter Buck Clayton. Lester Young, dubbed Thompson “Sir’ Charles to give him parity with Duke Ellington and Count Basie. Here, he solos with a band led by tenor saxophonist Coleman Hawkins that also includes Harry “Sweets” Edison on trumpet, Jimmy Woode on bass and Jo Jones on drums.

Thompson died in Tokyo, where he had lived since 2002.

RIP, all.

Monday Recommendation: John Hollenbeck

John Hollenbeck Claudia Quintet, Super Petite (Cuneiform)

SuperPetiteHollenbeck’s little band has unity of thought, purpose and execution more often found in long-lived classical ensembles than in jazz. The difference, of course, is improvisation. Yet, Hollenbeck’s skills as composer-arranger, leader and drummer are so finely honed that it is often a challenge to differentiate between his canny orchestration and all-out blowing. Listeners who let Claudia’s music wash over them, pick them up and carry them along are likely to disregard the difference and find the immersion rewarding. “Nightbreak,” Hollenbeck’s drastically slowed adaptation of the famous alto break from Charlie Parker’s 1946 “A Night In Tunisia,” opens the album. So profound a transformation deserves the critical attention it’s getting. Indeed, the entire album deserves it. Reed artist Chris Speed, accordionist Red Wierenga, vibraphonist Matt Moran and bassist Drew Gress are superb throughout. Hollenbeck’s multicolored drumming and Speed’s tenor saxophone soar on “Philly.

Clare Fischer’s “America The Beautiful”

Whatever your Fourth Of July weekend plans, the  understated perfection in the late Clare Fischer’s arrangement of “America Beautiful” will help you to a calm beginning of what can be a raucous, joyous holiday. It’s from Fischer’s classic 1967 album Songs For Rainy Day Lovers.

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To Columbia Records’ discredit, the label has never reissued Songs For Rainy Day Lovers on CD. Copies of the LP may be found here and there on various websites, including this one.

If you’re an American, have a wonderful holiday weekend. If you are not, please give the USA a kind thought as we celebrate our 240th birthday.

Monday Recommendation: Charlie Parker

Charlie Parker, Unheard Bird: The Unissued Takes (Verve)

Unissued ParkerCharlie Parker has never disappeared from the consciousness of serious jazz listeners. This two-CD collection, due out on Friday, could go a long way toward helping new generations discover the stunning purity and power of Parker’s creativity. Subtitled “The Unissued Takes,” the album brings together 69 unissued tracks and released masters that the alto saxophonist recorded for the Verve label from 1949 to 1952. For close listeners, annoyance at the stop-and-go sequence of takes gives way to wonder at Parker’s genius. The contexts range from quartet to string orchestra. Emerging jazz players will benefit from immersion in a primary source of modern music. A couple of recent articles have acknowledged Parker’s enduring importance while also pointing out that in the culture at large he is no longer recognized as a seminal artist who remade jazz. To read them, go here and here. Then—Listen.

Other Places: Linda Oh In The Village Voice

In the new issue of The Village Voice, Michael J. Agovino wraps three years of observing the bassist Linda Oh into a 4,000-word article about what it takes these days for a leading musician to practice the profession in the world’s jazz capital. Here’s an excerpt:

Unknown

Exposure is great, and Oh’s has only increased, but is this any way to make a living?

‘It depends on what people define as a living,’ she says. In her experience, a sideman can make $100–$200 a night for a regular gig, depending. (Others told me $50 a night is not uncommon.) But if you’re the leader, you have to see to it that your musicians are paid, even if you get nothing — even if you lose money on the deal. ‘What I define as a living is not what other people, who earn six figures, do. I have health insurance, but it’s the lowest tier you can get, and I’m still reluctant to even have it.’ She laughs. ‘I don’t have enough money to buy anything. If I choose to have kids, I don’t know how much money I’d have for college. It’s enough to live and be happy and get by…but it’s something I’m really going to have to think about. So much money I save gets invested back in the work.’

Agovino investigates all aspects of Ms. Oh’s professional life—club dates, recording, teaching, everything it takes to survive with dignity.

She’s serious, warm, and gracious. She’s a musician, but she’s not going to do a song-and-dance for you. She doesn’t do shtick.

Agovino’s long piece is full of insight and worth your time. To read all of it, go here.

For a Rifftides review of Linda Oh’s debut recording, go here.

Monday Recommendation: Chris Ziemba

Chris Ziemba, Manhattan Lullaby (Outside in Music)

Chris ZiembaHis abilities honed by studies at the Eastman School of Music and Juilliard, 29-year-old pianist Chris Ziemba is in demand on the New York scene. His debut recording as a leader discloses a varied compositional sense and a canny choice of sidemen. Ziemba, bassist Hans Glawischnig and drummer Jimmy MacBride are a keenly interactive trio. Michael Thomas joins them on alto saxophone for Ziemba’s evocative “The Road Less Traveled” and his boppish “Little T,” and on bass clarinet in the reflective title tune. “Escher’s Loops” seems to concern itself with symmetrical aspects of the work of the Dutch artist M.C. Escher. Ziemba’s keyboard touch and harmonies support the concept. The only piece not by Ziemba is Harry Warren’s 1945 classic “I Wish I Knew.” Ziemba’s arrangement incorporates a bass line leading to a solo in which Glawischnig is simultaneously incisive and relaxed.

Singers—Revisited

Singing mic logo

Spotify, iTunes and other companies streaming music did not exist when the following Rifftides piece appeared. If anything, there has been an escalation of the ability of singers, and of musicians in general, to make themselves ubiquitous.

From the Rifftides archive: first posted on April 17, 2007

The traditional record industry is imploding. It is impossible to say what will emerge from the turbulence. Some analysts of the music business are predicting that the compact disc will quickly go the way of the LP, the cassette, the eight-track tape, the 45, the 78 and the cylinder. They say it’s going to be an iPod world, an MP3 world. How long will technology allow those new means of music delivery to survive? Are you ready for a digital implant in your brain?

In the meantime, CDs proliferate because they’re so easy, so cheap, to make. The expense and sheer complexity of gettting music from an instrument or a voice into a microphone and ultimately onto a record used to require the resources of a company. Digital technology, the internet and distribution by downloading make it possible for anyone who can raise a few thousand dollars to be a record label. One of the immediate by-products of the transition is that recording “artists” (ahem) are materializing at an incredible rate. Who knew that there were so many jazz singers? The maturing and development of singers once took place through the demanding process of experience, during which those with the goods survived and the wannabees, for the most part, didn’t. Now the wannabees bypass experience and put out CDs on their own labels. Some of those recordings are awful, most merely boring. That is why it was welcome to receive the recent release—in one fell swoop—of nine CDs by survivors of a more rigorous system. These albums from EMI were issued in the 1950s and 1960s on the Capitol, Pacific Jazz and Roulette labels. Some of the singers were more accomplished than others, but all are at or near their best in this series, and it may be instructive for some of the wannabees to study them. One clue to what they might listen for: in nearly every case, the performances are more about the song than the singer.

Sarah Vaughan, Sarah + 2 (Roulette). Vaughan recorded two indispensable albums with only bass and guitar, this one and the earlier After Hours, also for Roulette. Here, the bassist is Joe Comfort, the guitarist Barney Kessel, who may have been her ideal accompanist. In this minimal setting, Sarah powered down and avoided the excesses that sometimes marred her work when she was surrounded by massed strings, reeds and brass. Everything that made her a phenomenon of twentieth century art is in balance–musicianship, elegance, judgment, intonation, control, vocal quality and that astonishing range. If you need to know why an opera star like Renee Fleming worships Vaughan, consult this CD.

June Christy, The Intimate Miss Christy (Capitol). Christy’s strength was her story-telling. Her famously unstable intonation occasionally wanders here, but it is perfect as she gets to the hearts of “The More I See You” and “Don’t Explain.” Her “Misty” is the best I’ve ever heard (yes, I know about Sarah Vaughan’s). Christy should have recorded with small groups more often. Her compatability with guitarist Al Viola is a large reason for the success of this venture.

Sue Raney, All By Myself (Capitol). There’s a hint of Christy in some of this early work by the sublime Raney, but her flawless intonation, time and phrasing are her own. The zest she brings to “Some of These Days” and the longing to “Maybe You’ll Be There,” define those songs. This was her second album for Capitol, made when she was twenty-three. It disappeared for decades. It’s good to have it back.

Chris Connor, At The Village Gate (Roulette). Because she succeeded Christy in Stan Kenton’s band, was also blonde and had a husky quality to her voice, Connor was at first presumed to be a Christy imitator. She never was. In this club date long after her Kenton years, Connor was a powerhouse, nailing every song, creating excitement that rarely surfaced in her better known albums. This is a revelation.

Joe Williams, A Man Ain’t Supposed to Cry (Roulette). This was the first of Williams’s great ballad albums, the one that disclosed him as more than a magnificent blues singer. In a class with Billy Eckstine and Frank Sinatra as a balladeer, Williams finds the soul and meaning of a dozen songs. He and the incomparable arranger Jimmy Mundy include the seldom-heard verses of several of the pieces. Still with Count Basie when this was recorded, Williams was at the apex of his ability.

Irene Kral, The Band and I (Capitol). Nearly thirty years after her death, a substantial cadre of afficianados maintains that Kral was the best female jazz singer of them all. This is the record that made her a darling of musicians and sophisticated listeners. Never interested in scatting, Kral used taste, rhythmic assurance and intelligent interpretation to establish jazz authority. The band was Herb Pomeroy’s. This album was the only time they and Kral worked together. They created a classic.

Jon Hendricks, A Good Git-Together (Pacific Jazz). Hendricks does scat. He knows what chords are made of and takes musicianly advantage of that knowledge. Of the albums he recorded apart from Lambert, Hendricks and Ross during that group’s primacy, this is the most joyous. No doubt his elation had something to do with the company he kept in the studio. His sidemen included Wes, Buddy and Monk Montgomery; Nat and Cannonball Adderley and Pony Poindexter.

Dakota Staton, Dynamic! (Capitol). Staton could be dynamic, all right, earning that exclamation point in the title. She could also go into a cloying sex kitten mode, saccharine to the point of embarrassment. When she concentrated on serving the song, she was often splendid, as she is here on “They All Laughed,” “Cherokee” and “I’ll Remember April.” Among the supporting cast, Harry Edison’s trumpet is obvious, but who are the terrific bassist and the lightning-fast trombonist? The reissue producers might have consulted the original session sheets and listed the musicians for all the CDs in this series.

Julie London, Around Midnight (Capitol). London’s treatments of “Misty,” “‘Round Midnight” and “Don’t Smoke in Bed” are among her best performances. Now and then she glides in and out of tune on a held note, but on balance this may be her finest album. London’s strengths were a bewitching intimacy and her believable connection to lyrics. This is a ballad collection relieved by “You and the Night and the Music” and “But Not For Me” well arranged by Dick Reynolds at medium tempos. London does an effective cover of Christy’s “Something Cool,” despite the distraction of a vocal group behind her chanting “something cool, something cool, something cool.”

Recent Listening: Iris Bergcrantz

Iris Bergcrantz, Different Universe (Vanguard Music Boulevard)

Iris Bergcrantz coverIn an impressive display of her talent as a singer and songwriter, the daughter of prominent Swedish musicians Anders Bergcrantz and Anna-Lena Laurin debuts as a leader, with her parents as members of the band. Iris Bergcrantz’s voice is notable for its sweep from low chest tones to the top of the soprano range and for her flexibility in applying it in a milieu that embraces jazz and aspects of the most adventurous contemporary classical music.

What makes her universe different from that of many emerging young jazz singers is the incorporation of electronic effects. In some tracks, production alterations transform her voice, her father’s formidable trumpet and the keyboard excursions of her mother. Through overdubbing, Ms. Bergcrantz at some points becomes an ethereal choir. In the opening track, “If You Fail, I’ll Always Stay,” the lyric is by her sister Rebecca, who joins Iris to sing harmony. Guest drummer Victor Lewis inflects the proceeding with his customary energy and forthrightness. Stefan Bellinas plays bass on the piece. In the rest of the album Anders Fjelstad is the bassist and Johan Kolsut the drummer.

The audio manipulation In “They Say” makes Anders Bergcrantz’s trumpet into a growling commentator before he and his daughter engage in a passage of comparatively delicate counterpoint. Ms. Laurin’s synthesizer and Fender-Rhodes electric piano occasionally swell into orchestral surges, but in the next moment she may revert to the concert grand piano, and the maelstrom of sound gives way to peaceful resolution. Despite its clarity, Ms. Bergcrantz’s voice now and then seems in danger of submerging in the tidal power of its surroundings. This is a stimulating and in many ways daring album, but it would be good to sometime hear her in a less voluminous context.

In a refreshing reminder of the era before the recording industry’s compulsion to fill albums to their full 80-minute CD capacity, the total time of Different Universe is :35:19. After hearing music of this intensity, time to reflect is welcome.

The album’s promotional video allows you to see the musicians. To view it, click here.

Monday Recommendation (A Day Late): Matt Wilson

Matt Wilson’s Big Happy Family, Beginning Of A Memory (Palmetto)

Willson Big HappyThe title belies the pain of the loss that inspired Matt Wilson’s essentially jovial—even jocular—album. The drummer assembled a dozen of his musical colleagues to celebrate his wife Felicia, who died of leukemia two years ago. “Flowers For Felicia” and “July Hymn,” are instances of quiet remembrance amid 17 tracks that embrace the keen musicianship, spontaneity and humor (often raucous) that are core elements of Wilson’s musical and personal style. Pieces like “No Outerwear” and “25 Years Of Rootabagas” match Wilson’s disciplined, outré approach to life and work. The enthusiasm and abandon of his solo on “Schoolboy Thug” typify a philosophy embraced throughout the album by trumpeter Terrell Stafford, cornetist Kirk Knuffke, saxophonists Joel Frahm and Jeff Lederer, bassist Martin Wind and accordionist Gary Versace, among others. In his brief notes, Wilson writes that, “Felica …was all about love.” So is this album.

Correspondence: When Miles Sat In With Mel

Saxophonist Bill Kirchner writes:

For several years In the 1980s I used to sub on occasion in the saxophone sectionBill Kirchner w soprano sax of drummer Mel Lewis’s Jazz Orchestra—originally the Thad Jones-Mel Lewis Orchestra. When I wasn’t playing, I would often stop in to hear their weekly Monday-night gigs at NYC’s famed Village Vanguard. (A tradition that the band, now the Vanguard Jazz Orchestra, continues to this day, after over fifty years.)

On one of those Mondays, a unique event took place. Trumpeter Miles Davis, on the verge of emerging from a six-year seclusion, sat in with Mel’s band. Recently—35 years later almost exactly to the day—someone posted an amateur recording of the event on YouTube.

For the record, here’s the probable personnel of the band that night as best I can remember:
Earl Gardner, Joe Mosello, Simo Salminen, John Marshall, trumpets; John Mosca, Lee Robertson, trombones; Douglas Purviance, Earl McIntyre, bass trombones; Stephanie Fauber, French horn; Dick Oatts, Kenny Garrett, alto saxophones; Bob Mintzer, Rich Perry, tenor saxophones; Gary Pribeck, baritone saxophone; Jim McNeely, piano; Marc Johnson, bass; Mel Lewis, drums; Miles Davis, guest solo trumpet.

In 1997, I wrote briefly about that night in the preface to A Miles Davis Reader, which I edited for the Smithsonian Institution Press:

“I had only one brief contact with Miles Davis…. In the spring of 1981 Davis was preparing to emerge from a nearly six-year retirement, and he spent several consecutive Monday nights visiting the Village Vanguard in New York and listening to Mel Lewis and the Jazz Orchestra. During the last of those visits (at which, to my good fortune, I was present), Lewis persuaded Davis to sit in with the band. Lewis kicked off one of his orchestra’s staples, Thad Jones’s “The Second Race,” and Davis, borrowing in succession all four trumpets from the band’s trumpet section, played an extended blues solo to the delight of everyone in the club. Since he was playing borrowed horns and was still getting his chops back after years of inactivity, Davis sounded rusty, but what he played could have come only from him.

“During the next break, I was sitting at a table with one of the band’s trumpeters, Joe Mosello. Suddenly, Davis approached our table and crouched down next to us. He placed his left hand on my right knee, looked straight at Mosello, and said in his famous raspy voice, ‘You know, you shouldn’t drink beer on the gig. It dries you out.’

He was right.”

Many thanks to Bill for sharing a splendid memory.

Sunday With Adams And Shorter

Mt. Adams 6-12-16

This morning’s cycling expedition took me across a freeway overpass whose height allowed a perfect view of Mount Adams sixty miles to the southwest. When I decided to share it with you, I wondered what music might best go with the picture. A quick staff meeting came up with the answer. All right, all right; the answer has nothing to do with the mountain’s namesake, the second president of The United States, or with his son, the sixth president. It has to do with an excuse to play you Wayne Shorter. Perhaps you won’t mind.

“Adam’s Apple” from the Wayne Shorter’s 1966 Blue Note album of the same name. Can this music this hip really be 50 years old?

Weekend Extra: Jimmy Scott On The BBC

Jimmy Scott in TokyoRifftides reader David Chilver wrote from Great Britain to alert us to a program that recently ran on BBC Radio 4 about the life, frustration, courage and ultimate success of the singer Jimmy Scott. Scott died in 2014 at the age of 88. His high contralto resulted from a childhood hormonal condition that blocked normal vocal development. The voice made him an object of ridicule and abuse, and for years a callous label owner blocked his recording career. Yet, Scott managed to wrap the anguish of discrimination and mistreatment into his artistry. He adapted his unusual voice to a style that late in his life attracted a wide audience. His admirers included Ray Charles, Billie Holiday and the soul singer Marvin Gaye, who was heavily influenced by Scott.

The BBC’s Mary Anne Hobbs hosted the half-hour broadcast. It includes extensive samples of Scott’s singing and has stories from, among others, his wife, his biographer David Ritz and producer Tommy LiPuma, who oversaw Scott’s final recordings.

To hear the show from the network’s archive, click here.

We follow Ms. Hobbs’s program with its subject performing in Tokyo in 2000. He is accompanied by his rhythm section—Mike Kanan, piano; Hill Greene, bass; and Dwayne “Cook” Broadax, drums. Masaru Uchibori conducts the orchestra.

Jimmy Scott, a rare and unusual talent who persevered.

Jeremy Steig, 1942-2016

Flutist Jeremy Steig died on April 13 at his home in Japan. He was 73. His death wasjeremy-steig1 confirmed days after the fact.

“He didn’t like to read about musicians’ deaths in newspaper obituaries,” his wife Asako told The New York Times. “He wanted me to delay the announcement of his death, so that it wouldn’t really be ‘news’ to be written up.”

Unlike most jazz flutists, Steig (pictured circa 1965) did not make his instrument secondary to the saxophone; he devoted himself solely to the flute. He first recorded in 1963 with Flute Fever on Columbia Records. The album also introduced another musician destined to be a major jazz artist. From a 2006 Rifftides review:

Steig, son of the brilliant cartoonist William Steig, was, and is, a flutist of audacity, force and humor. Flute Fever was his debut recording, as it was for his pianist, a young medical student named Denny Zeitlin. On the Sonny Rollins composition “Oleo,” each of them solos with ferocious thrust, chutzpah, swing and—one of the most challenging accomplishments in jazz—a feeling of delirious freedom within the discipline of a harmonic structure. The structure in question—the chord pattern of “I Got Rhythm”—is one of the most flexible in jazz apart from the blues. Steig and Zeitlin used it for two of the most exhilarating rides anyone since Charlie Parker had taken on “Rhythm” changes.

For fifty years, Columbia let Flute Fever languish unissued in its vaults. Presumably with Columbia’s approval, In 2013, a company called International Phonograph, Inc. remastered it with high quality sound and reissued the album on CD. Steig and Zeitlin went on to extensive achievement, but Flute Fever remains a high point in their discographies.

For a comprehensive summary of Jeremy Steig’s career, see his obituary by Peter Keepnews in The New York Times.

Tuesday Recommendation: Ted Gioia’s New Book

Ted Gioa, How To Listen To Jazz (Basic Books)

Gioia, How To Listen To JazzOpposite the contents page of this concise book is a quote from Duke Ellington: “Listening is the most important thing in music.” It seems an obvious truth, yet the idea eludes many people who claim that they wish they understood jazz. Gioia marshals his skills as an accomplished musician, clear thinker and gifted writer, inspiring readers to want to listen. He stresses that fear of technical matters is no reason to shy away from the music. “In fact,” he writes, “the deepest aspect of jazz music has absolutely nothing to do with music theory. Zero. Zilch.” He stresses that records are not enough, that hearing jazz live is essential. The appendix naming 150 important contemporary jazz musicians is helpful. Gioia’s chapters dealing with rhythm, structure, origins of jazz, and evolution of styles are invaluable aids to understanding—for newcomers and experienced listeners alike.

Why The Cornet? (Revisited And Revised With Video)

Because of circumstances too complicated and mundane to relate, there will be no Monday Recommendation today. Stuff happens. Maybe there will be a Tuesday Recommendation tomorrow. In the meantime, here is a Rifftides post that appeared nearly ten years ago. Possibly you had forgotten about it. The staff has removed outdated links and added video that is anything but outdated.

First posted on August 3, 2006

Deborah Hendrick read the comment about Bix Beiderbecke having been a cornetist, not a trumpeter, and asks:

As part of my continuing education, why would a musician choose a trumpet over a cornet, or the other way around?

Experts on brass instruments have written volumes on that question. Here is my non-voluminous answer.

Cornet 2The trumpet’s tubing is elongated and relatively straight until it reaches the flare of the bell. That gives the instrument volume and brilliance. The cornet’s tubing is tightly wound compared to that of the trumpet, resulting in more air resistance when the player blows into the horn. Its tubing is conical, growing bigger around as it approaches the bell. Taken together, those two factors give the cornet a mellower, softer sound than the trumpet’s. Trumpets predominate these days in orchestras and bands, but through the last half of the nineteenth century and well into the twentieth, the cornet was king. It was developed by the Frenchman J.B. Arban, who literally wrote the book on how to play it. Arban’s Complete Conservatory Method is still the cornetist’s, and trumpeter’s, bible.

John Philip Sousa and Herbert L. Clarke, disciples of Arban, were virtuoso cornetists who led famous brass bands and further influenced the popularity of the instrument. When jazz came along, cornet was the default lead brass instrument in the early New Orleans bands, as it was in Chicago and New York in the 1920s and into the thirties. Louis Armstrong and Bix Beiderbecke were cornetists. My guess is that Armstrong switched to trumpet because when he organized his big band around 1930, he wanted to project more, but his great early recordings were on cornet. Beiderbecke, to my knowledge, played cornet exclusively. Many great jazz players thought of as trumpeters were, in fact, cornetists, among them Bobby Hackett, Rex Stewart, Ruby Braff, Jimmy McPartland, Wild Bill Davison, Nat Adderley and, often, Thad Jones. They preferred the cornet’s fluency and intimacy. Few modern trumpet players also play the cornet, but many double on flugelhorn, which can achieve similar, but not identical, mellowness. Committed cornetists are passionate in their love for the instrument, witness this quote from a player named Mike Trager.

I equate my cornet with a good-natured golden retriever and my trumpet with a vicious Doberman pinscher.

trumpet family.jpg
Left to right, you see flugelhorn, trumpet, cornet and piccolo trumpet and, in front, assorted mutes. The flugelhorn and the piccolo trumpet here are the four-valve variety. You know what I say about that? It’s hard enough to play three valves. I’ll leave well enough alone. But I wish I had my old cornet back. Maybe I’ll prowl the pawn shops.

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So, you may ask in 2016, how about a cornet demonstration? Well, of course. Here’s one by a master, Warren Vache, at the 2013 Ancona Jazz Festival in Italy, with pianist Paolo Alderighi. They play Duke Ellington’s “It Don’t Mean a Thing if It Ain’t Got that Swing” and “Prelude to a Kiss.” Their encore is one chorus of Sammy Fain’s “I’ll Be Seeing You.”

Weekend Extra #2: That Thelonious Monk Cover

I realize that in many time zones outside the US, the weekend is over. But what the heck; this is about Monk.

Monk Underground cover

You may have wondered about the circumstances of the cover photograph for Thelonious Monk’s 1968 album Underground. As you might imagine, when the recording came out, the cover received widespread attention. In a particularly enlightening edition of Mosaic Records’ Jazz Gazette online, Michael Cuscuna tells the story of the shoot, including the content of Monk’s one-way conversation with the figure to his immediate left. Mr. Cuscuna is Mosaic’s president.

Richard Mantel is an old friend who was an art director at Columbia Records during its heyday, and in fact was one of the faces on the George Wein album we reissued in our Mosaic singles series. Richard and I worked together at the reactivated Blue Note Records of the ‘80s and for many years, he was Mosaic’s art director. One night at dinner, Richard told me the story of the photo shoot for Thelonious Monk’s celebrated Underground cover:

“The photography was done at the studio of Horn/Griner (Steve Horn and Norman Griner). They specialized in lavishly produced and complex photo shoots. The studio was in a townhouse in the Fifties, off Third Avenue. The shooting studio was on the ground floor. That’s where they had constructed, furnished and propped the set.

“Monk arrived in a smoky gray Bentley or Rolls Royce, I forgot which. He was chauffeured by “The Baroness”. I know that you know who she was. She wore a pale green watered silk cocktail dress and long gloves. She was also adorned by a lot of opulent jewelry, including, as I recall, a tiara. It was approximately 10:00am.

“Monk entered the building, wearing what he wore in the shot (except for the rifle). The cow was standing in the vestibule…she had not yet taken her place on the set. Monk went over and put his arm around her shoulders. He bent down close to her right ear and very calmly and quietly said: “Moo-o-o-o-o-o-o-o.” The cow seemed unimpressed. Monk then just walked onto the set; sat down at that battered upright piano and proceeded to play for about an hour and a half. The piano was terribly out of tune and I’m sure didn’t have all the its keys. But it didn’t matter…it was great! After the photo session Monk got up and left with The Baroness. The only word he had spoken in all that time was to the cow.“

From the recording, here is “Ugly Beauty” with Monk; Charlie Rouse, tenor saxophone; Larry Gales, bass; and Ben Riley, drums.

Underground has been reissued on CD with three alternate takes that were not on the original LP.

To see the Mosaic Jazz Gazette, go here.

To learn about The Baroness, see this Rifftides post from 10 years ago.

Weekend Extra: Jones-Lewis And Gleason

Jazz Casual logoIn case you’ve forgotten what joy a big band can generate at its peak of performance, here is the Thad Jones-Mel Lewis Jazz Orchestra on Ralph J. Gleason’s Jazz Casual telecast on public television. The set list is “Just Blues,” “St. Louis Blues” and “Kids Are Pretty People.” This was broadcast on PBS in April, 1968. We bring you the entire program.

Personnel: Thad Jones, flugelhorn and conductor; Trumpets, Snooky Young, Richard Williams, Randy Brecker, Danny Moore; Trombones, Bob Brookmeyer, Garnett Brown, Jimmy Knepper, Benny Powell; Saxophones, Jerome Richardson, Seldon Powell, Dodgion, Eddie Daniels, Pepper Adams, baritone sax & clarinet; Rhythm, Roland Hanna piano; Richard Davis, bass; Mel Lewis, drums.

For more about and by the Jones-Lewis band in its heyday, go here.

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Doug Ramsey

Doug is a recipient of the lifetime achievement award of the Jazz Journalists Association. He lives in the Pacific Northwest, where he settled following a career in print and broadcast journalism in cities including New York, New Orleans, San Francisco, Los Angeles, Seattle, Portland, San Antonio, … [MORE]

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