JazzWax

Interview: Creed Taylor (Part 2)

In the late 1940s, Creed Taylor set his sights on playing trumpet in a big band or in clubs on New York's 52d Street. But after majoring in psychology at Duke University and spending two years in the Marine Corps, Creed decided he might be better off as a record producer. Passionate about jazz, Creed's college and military backgrounds certainly prepared him for achieving big goals, inspiring artists, and managing creative temperaments.

In Part 2 of my conversation with the legendary record producer, Creed talks about moving to New York in 1954, landing a job with Bethlehem Records, recording the label's first 10-inch LPs with Chris Connor, and how he promoted her records in the mid-1950s. Creed also resolves the mystery of how radio announcer Bob Garrity's voice wound up on some versions of the 10-inch LP announcing Connor at Birdland:

JazzWax: In 1954, you arrived in New York determined to become a record producer. What did you know about producing?
Creed Taylor: Nothing. I was just convinced I could do it. I had this drive. It was a mix of naivete and positive thinking. I've always looked at possibilities that way.

JW: Even back in Virginia?
CT: When I was in high school I heard the Elliot Lawrence band at Virginia Tech. I was so taken with that 1946-47 band, I jumped on the band’s bus and waited until Elliot came on. When he came on I walked up to him and said, “Hey Elliot, my name is Creed Taylor. I want to get on your band.”

JW: Just like that?
CT: Just like that.

JW: Did you think you were good enough?
CT: Yes. Elliot gave me his card and said to give his manager a call. He said, “When we get back to New York I'll talk to my manager and we’ll give you a call.” I, of course, let that blow over. But I look back on that event and ask myself “How did I do that?” I was naïve.

JW: Did you have an inkling of how to produce an LP?
CT: Like everyone else who was interested in jazz at the time, I was listening to Norman Granz's Jazz at the Philharmonic and Alfred Lion's Blue Note recordings. There were great soloists at the time. But I thought the listener’s attention span was being stretched by interminable bass and drum solos. Any solo that went on forever, I thought, was the wrong way to try to make people like the music I loved. So I decided that I would produce records that I liked, recorded the way I wanted to hear them.

JW: When you got to New York, where did you stay?
CT: I had a room in a walkup on 86th St. and Riverside Drive. Immediately after I moved in, I went down to a record company near Times Square that had been co-founded by a drummer from Duke University. He had met Gus Wildi, a Swiss guy with a lot of money, and together they had started a company called Bethlehem Records.

JW: How was the company doing?
CT: When I got to New York in 1954, the label was on its last legs. They were still recording 78-rpms at a time when the 10-inch LP was coming in. I told them, “There are 10-inch LPs out there and you guys have a singer who’s great named Chris Connor." She had already recorded for Bethlehem in December 1953 with Sy Oliver’s orchestra, but they didn't know what to do with her.

JW: What did you do?
CT: In the summer of '54, I talked to Chris [pictured] and found out she had vast knowledge of great songs that were hip and that she wanted to record them. I told Bethlehem to let me go in and produce the label's first 10-inch LP with her. I told them I was going to call it Lullaby of Birdland. They gave me the go ahead. Even though the company wasn’t in great shape, the owner had funds and realized it was a necessary investment.

JW: What did you have in mind for Chris?
CT: Back then there was a piano player named Ellis Larkins [pictured]. I thought he was fantastic. For me, he was like Wynton Kelly, who was recording for Blue Note and Verve at the time. I told Chris we should do her album with the Ellis Larkins’ trio. She loved the idea. So I called Ellis and booked the Fulton Recording Studios, at 80 West 40th St., across from Bryant Park. I knew Tom Dowd, the engineer there. I had met him at Birdland, and he was a very musical guy. So when Ellis and Chris came to the studio in early August, I sat in the booth with Tom and did what I do today. Chris and I had decided which songs to record in advance. The result was so terrific that a few weeks later we recorded her with the Vinnie Burke Quartet for another 10-inch LP. We also recorded an album in 1955 with Kai Winding and J.J. Johnson.

JW: But back in the mid-1950s, producing didn’t end in the engineer's booth, did it?
CT: No, no. Once Chris recorded, I had to get the record on the radio. I listened to the radio a great deal then. So I went over to WNEW and WABC with a dub of the session and did on-air interviews. I also worked on point-of-sale efforts. When Lullaby of Birdland came out, I had a big six-foot high cutout of Chris standing in front of Birdland to promote the album. I also brought special copies to radio stations that that allowed radio announcers [such as WINS' Bob Garrity] to dub in their voices, so it sounded like they were announcing her [at Birdland]. Life was very simple then [laughing].

JW: What else did you do for the album?
CT: I reached out to radio stations popular with black audiences. The disc jockeys there knew which jazz records were great and which weren't. Their audiences and other jockeys in the city knew that what they played often set the trend. I became friendly with many of these jockeys. They, in turn, were friends with jockeys who broadcast during drive-time hours, which had the largest audiences. Fortunately they thought Chris' album was very hip. I asked if they would talk to the other jockeys and get them to play the album, and they did.

JW: How did you put records in stores?
CT: I had to become friendly with record distributors and store buyers and merchandisers. Through all of these combined efforts, Lullaby of Birdland became something of a hit for Bethlehem. But none of my efforts would have paid off if the album hadn’t been superb to begin with.

Tomorrow, in Part 3, Creed talks about the unique look of Bethlehem's album covers, how he discovered Herbie Mann, the significance of Charlie's Tavern, and how he convinced jazz giants like Oscar Pettiford to tighten up the length of their solos.

JazzWax tracks: Chris Connor recorded four LPs for Bethlehem, three under Creed Taylor's direction. The Creed Taylor albums featuring the Ellis Larkins Trio, the Vinnie Burke Quartet and the Kai Winding-J.J. Johnson Quintet remain solid examples of Chris' "slick chick" vocal style and her unrestrained ability to tell a heart-torn story through a song's lyrics.

All of her Bethlehem output is available on a Fresh Sound CD here. Or you can download Chris Connor Sings Lullabys of Birdland from iTunes, which includes tracks from three of her Bethlehem albums. The remastering on this download is astonishingly clear and crisp. Included in the download is a fascinating Why Shouldn't I (Alt Take 2). At the start of the take, you can hear Creed's voice announcing from the booth, "Cut 2...Go."

JazzWax perspective: As you'll hear on these recordings, Creed Taylor's pairing of Chris Connor with Ellis Larkins and then Vinnie Burke were strokes of genius. Connor's husky yet vulnerable voice in 1954 and 1955 demanded delicate instrumentation, not a rip-roaring big band. While Connor's two closest rivals with similar phrasing, June Christy and Anita O'Day, continued to front big bands on recordings, Creed and Connor broke barriers, helping to establish the female vocalist as someone with a soft story to tell.

To fully grasp the importance of Connor's Bethlehem sessions, consider this: Months after Lullaby of Birdland hit, Capitol Records decided to try putting June Christy in the studio with only Stan Kenton on piano for the Duets album. Interestingly, the album remains plodding and ill-conceived. Christy did record with the Ernie Felice Quartet in 1950, but she's really belting out the tracks rather than whispering in your ear. Her only trio date of the 1950s was A Lovely Way to Spend an Evening (1957) with the Shelly Manne Trio.

On a re-listen of Christy's trio date, you come to the realization that she really wasn't comfortable being backed by a small group. While she could give it up effortlessly when supported by horns, she had trouble figuring out how to miniaturize her talents with a trio or quartet.

As for O'Day, she recorded with the Nat King Cole trio in 1944 and the Tadd Dameron trio at the Royal Roost in 1948. But those dates really were novelty and bop sessions. Her first full-fledged, intimate trio album isn't until 1958, when she records Anita O'Day at Mr. Kelly's.

The rise of the intimate female vocalist, supported softly by a lush jazz trio or quartet, starts with Chris Connor and Carmen McRae, who also recorded for Creed Taylor and Bethlehem Records during this period.

Interview: Creed Taylor (Part 1)

One of the unsung heroes of jazz history is the jazz record producer. From the birth of the LP in the early 1950s (first the 10-inch disc and then the 12-inch record), producers were responsible for championing jazz artists, signing them to labels, creating the vision for record dates, shaping the album's song selection, setting the order, choosing and assembling the sidemen, and ensuring that what audiences heard sounded great. Then their necks were on the line to promote, market and sell the result. [photo of Quincy Jones and producer Creed Taylor]

Of all the great record producers of the LP era, one of the most successful was Creed Taylor. Since the early 1950s, Creed pioneered new ways of recording and packaging artists at Bethlehem Records (1954-56), brought jazz into the mainstream at ABC Paramount (1956-60), launched Impulse Records (1960), created blockbuster albums at Verve (1960-67), merged jazz and pop at A&M Records (1967-69), and sustained jazz at CTI Records (1970-78) when jazz seemed destined for the scrap heap. Through the decades, Creed helped artists such as Stan Getz, John Coltrane, Jack Teagarden and Wes Montgomery successfully re-invent themselves. And with the help of photographer Pete Turner, he set new standards for album cover design and packaging in the 1960s and 1970s. [photo of Creed and Wes Montgomery above by Chuck Stewart]

In Part 1 of my four-part interview with Creed on his early years at Bethlehem, we talked first about his life growing up in rural Virginia, his service in the Marines, and the radio personality who convinced him to abandon graduate studies in psychology and pursue his dream of becoming a New York City jazz record producer:

JazzWax: Where did you grow up?
Creed Taylor: My family lived in Bedford, Virginia [pictured], a rural town in the middle of the state, about 50 miles from Lynchburg. My grandfather was editor and publisher of The Bedford Democrat, a newspaper he founded. My father started a flourmill in southwestern Virginia, so we moved back and forth between Bedford and a hamlet west of Roanoke called White Gate.

JW: Did you play an instrument in school?
CT: I played trumpet in high school. I chose the trumpet because of Harry James. I loved his records on the radio. But over time I found I wasn’t crazy about his vibrato so I moved on to Dizzy Gillespie. That is, until I ordered a couple of transcribed Dizzy Gillespie solos. Once I had a look at those, I figured I was better off sticking with Harry as a role model. [pictured: Creed Taylor, right]

JW: Were you good?
CT: Yeah, I was.

JW: Did playing the trumpet come naturally to you?
CT: It did. The music I heard growing up was blue grass and Country music. I’d hear it all the time when we were living in White Gate. Our homestead was two mountains away from where the Carter Family lived. I used to go up to the local high school and listen to Bill Monroe, the Carter Family and all of those guys. There were fantastic fiddle players there—hoedown sort of stuff. [pictured: Carter Family homestead]

JW: What do you mean by “two mountains away?”
CT: You drove or walked up one mountain and down the other side and then over another one. There were no towns. The area was rural. The Carter Family recorded in Bristol, on the border of Tennessee and Virginia, just to the west White Gate. So I heard this music all the time, both live and on the family radio. [pictured: A.P. Carter's cabin]

JW: Did you like blue grass and Country music?
CT: It drove me nuts. However, a few years ago I started listening to Country music again. My maturity has given me a new perspective on this genre. [pictured: The Carter Family]

JW: What music did you listen to in rural Virginia?
CT: I loved the big bands and jazz, which was a lot more fun to listen to. It was cooler music. It made you feel hip, not corny.

JW: How did you ever hear jazz and big band music in the far reaches of Virginia?
CT: I had a small radio in my bed that I listened to very late at night. When everyone was asleep, that radio could pick up the frequency from WJZ in New York coming over the mountains. I’d hear Symphony Sid’s [pictured] broadcasts directly from Birdland. He’d paint amazing pictures on the air. He said he sat in a glass booth overlooking the club, and between sets he'd observe what was going on. He’d say things like, “Well look over there, it’s Kai Winding talking to Diz at the bar. And, Count Basie just walked in to catch a set.” Stuff like that.

JW: Why did Symphony Sid's banter have such a hold on you?
CT: Everything he talked about was so cool and clear in my head, not just about the music but also the social surroundings of the jazz players. All I could think of was, “Wow, this music is something else.” I couldn’t wait to get up to New York and start meeting the people Symphony Sid was talking about.

JW: Did your parents like jazz?
CT: Sure. But for them, jazz was ragtime or Leadbelly [pictured]  or Jelly Roll Morton. My folks loved music, no matter what it was. My grandmother was a fiddle player.

JW: Before you came to New York, you studied psychology at Duke University. Was your father unhappy about that?
CT: Funny you should ask. He was. He wanted me to become a doctor. So I took two years of premed to get it out of my system and get my father off my back. I started majoring in psychology when I was a junior.

JW: What did you do after college?
CT: I went to graduate school at Duke to study psychology. But my studies were interrupted by the draft. I spent two years in the Marine Corps, starting in September 1951. I didn’t choose the Marines. They chose me. It was not a picnic. I spent the first year at Parris Island, which was grueling. I taught illiterate Marine recruits how to read and write. There were so many recruits pouring into the service then because of the Korean War and the threat of China’s invasion.

JW: Were you sent to Korea?
CT: Yes. They shipped me over to Korea in 1952. But before I left, I was stationed for a few weeks at Camp Pendleton, about a half hour north of San Diego. On leave, every weekend I used to go up to The Lighthouse at Hermosa Beach. I heard the original Gerry Mulligan-Chet Baker Quartet, Art Pepper, Red Norvo, Tal Farlow, Charles Mingus and many others. [photo: Ray Avery Archive]

JW: Did you talk to these guys while you were there?
CT: Oh sure. I became good friends with Shorty Rogers, who showed me chord structures and how he wrote his arrangements. Shorty [pictured, standing] was such a nice guy. He was so modest and helpful. The Red Norvo Trio knocked me out. I spoke to Red and Tal, but Mingus was kind of distant. I bought a 10-inch LP of the Mulligan-Baker group and took it with me to Korea along with a battery-operated record player. I listened to that group in my bunker, on the front line in Korea. I still have that record someplace.

JW: Did you see action in Korea?
CT: I spent a year in combat. For a time I was a forward observer. I worked with a map that had quadrants of the terrain out front. When I saw lights on a convoy traveling through no-man’s land, my job was to call them back to the 105mm Artillery, which opened up on the lights. We were under the auspices of the UN. I was there until the truce was announced in September 1953, exactly two years after I was drafted.

JW: Were you a different person when you were discharged?
CT: Not really. I think I blended right back in.

JW: Did you return to Virginia?
CT: Yes. But as soon as I got back, I decided right away to move to New York. I told my family that I was going to New York to play in bands. They weren’t too happy about that. But what I really wanted to do was produce records.

Tomorrow, in Part 2, Creed talks about arriving in New York, how he landed a job at Bethlehem Records, his first record produced for Chris Connor called Lullaby of Birdland, and what he did to make the 10-inch LP a jazz hit.

JazzWax tracks: It's hard now to fully appreciate the Svengali-like hold radio disc jockeys held over young ears in the 1940s. As after-midnight live radio remotes from nightclubs became increasingly popular in the late 1940s, disc jockeys were given greater leeway to fill time on air between songs and sets. As a result, they became jazz personalities in their own right. In New York, the best announcers were masters at vividly capturing what they saw and heard using heavily romantic, Runyonesque language.

Few disc jockeys of the period were as prominent as Symphony Sid [pictured], who got his name originally selling records at the Symphony Record Store. Starting in the mid-1940s, Symphony Sid worked for a series of radio stations.

Two of my favorite examples of Symphony Sid's on-air style can be found on Charlie Parker: The Complete Savoy Live Performances (1947-1950) here and Bill Evans: The 1960 Birdland Sessions here.

Sunday Wax Bits

Starting tomorrow, JazzWax talks to legendary jazz producer Creed Taylor [pictured] about his early years at Bethlehem Records (1954-56).

Grant Stewart at Smoke. Last night I caught tenor saxophonist Grant Stewart at Smoke on New York's Upper West Side. During the first set, the Grant Stewart Quintet played six tunes, three from his new album, Young at Heart (full disclosure: I wrote the liner notes but receive no royalties.) Grant was joined by Ryan Kisor on trumpet, David Hazeltine on piano, Joel Forbes on bass and Joe Farnsworth on drums.

The group opened with a spirited Young at Heart, followed by Peter Bernstein's cooker Jet Stream. Two gorgeous standards followed—I'm Glad There is You (on which Grant shrewdly tagged Thelonious Monk's Friday the Thirteenth) and I Had the Craziest Dream, both taken at a medium tempo. Grant's Shades of Jackie Mac, which is built on Sweet Georgia Brown but feels like Dig and Giant Steps, included a stunning solo by drummer Joe Farnsworth, who seems to grow stronger each time I see him. The group wrapped up with a spirited blues.

Grant continues to amaze, working the bottom of his horn fearlessly while remaining crisply lyrical and reverential to the tenor giants he adores. Grant confidently knows his history, and it shows. David Hazeltine's [pictured] bedrock technique on the keyboard and his tension-release style of playing is perfect for Grant (hopefully we'll see an album soon pairing the two). David's rich lock-chord attacks aren't to be missed.

Joe Farnsworth [pictured] is a high-intensity drummer, and last night he threw out dozens of figures, always keeping the group and audience on edge. Ryan Kisor has a pensive, Kenny Dorham feel—round, precise and with a knowing sensitivity. Joel's bass was rock solid and could be heard through it all.

Grant's latest album, Young at Heart, can be downloaded at iTunes or at Amazon here. Or it's available as a CD here.

Dan Morgenstern. In response to my Friday post on five little-known jazz CDs that celebrated major Broadway shows and movie musicals, the great Dan Morgenstern of the Institute of Jazz Studies at Rutgers University sent along the following e-mail:

"Great selections, but my favorite in this genre is another Barney Kessel item: Some Like It Hot (Contemporary), with the seriously underrated Joe Gordon on trumpet; the wonderful Jimmy Rowles on piano; and Art Pepper, who, of course, is great on alto but a standout on clarinet. I should note that this is not a stage/screen score like the others, but a collection of vintage standards heard in that five-star film!"

Ira Gitler. During the week I heard from the marvelous jazz writer Ira Gitler, who pointed out that Teddy Edwards wasn't the first to record a bebop solo on the tenor sax, as I had posted. That distinction, he notes, belongs to Dexter Gordon, who took bop solos while recording in Billy Eckstine's band in September 1944 for the De Luxe label and while recording with Dizzy Gillespie on Groovin' High and Blue 'n' Boogie in February 1945 for Guild. My original post on Teddy Edwards (May 7, 2008) has been updated to reflect this new information.

Speaking of Teddy Edwards. Bret Primack sent along a link to a YouTube clip of the Gerald Wilson Orchestra that features tenor saxophonist Teddy Edwards [pictured]. See for yourself here why this tenor saxophonist was so special.

Bags Meets Wes clip. The sensational Bret Primack also has just completed the edit of his video podcast for Concord Records' release of Bags Meets Wes. The album is available remastered as part of the label's Keepnews Collection series, and the sound is sterling. Bret's conversation with producer Orrin Keepnews is, as always, filled with little-known facts about the making of this strong session. Go here.

Showtime at the Apollo. A reminder: The Jazz Foundation of America's A Great Night in Harlem gala concert at the Apollo Theater on May 29th will feature Bill Cosby, Danny Glover, Randy Weston, Frank Foster, Jimmy Heath, Phil Woods, Frank Wess, Hank Jones, Dave Brubeck and many, many others. Proceeds from ticket sales will enable the Jazz Foundation to continue helping jazz musicians in need. Tickets: (212) 245-3999, ext. 28. Seats: $50. Time: 8 pm.

Les Brown riddle solved. Hans Dorrscheidt, a supersharp jazz fan and JazzWax reader in Germany, has solved the "Riddle of the Honey Bun Arranger." On Friday, in my post on five favorite jazz interpretations of stage and screen, I noted that the first track of Les Brown's Dancing to South Pacific appeared to be written by "J. Hiff." Or at least that's how it appears on my CD when I squint at the reproduction of the back cover.

"The arranger you're wondering about is most likely Jay Hill, who played trombone with Les Brown and wrote many a chart for him, too."

Bravo, Hans!

Four Rich Brothers—for free! Back on April 29, 2008, I featured 10 favorite Jimmy Giuffre [pictured] arrangements and recordings. One of them was Four Rich Brothers, recorded by Buddy Rich's band of 1948. I find it to be slightly more spirited than the Woody Herman classic recorded months earlier, and it features Giuffre playing (Herman's does not). Thanks to Bruno Leicht of Germany, you can go here and dig the entire track for free. By the way, Bruno hosts a fabulous blog here that's loaded with jazz insights and free music clips.

5 CDs: Swings Stage and Screen

Jazz interpretations of Broadway shows and movie musicals are notoriously iffy. Past recordings either hit them just right, taking the standards to new levels, or they miss by a mile. And when they miss, the reasons are usually that the songs were played too straight or too jazzy. Or they feature solos that drag on in an effort to eat up time on an LP rather than employ skillful arrangements.

You won't find Oscar Peterson's West Side Story, Vince Guaraldi's Jazz Impressions of Black Orpheus, or Shelly Manne's My Fair Lady on today's list of five favorites. All are super albums, but they're too well known and too obvious for this post. As you'll see, the ones I've selected are a bit off the beaten trail and may even be unknown to you. All are smart executions that I think you'll enjoy as much as I do. Here they are, in no particular order:

Fiddler on the Roof—Cannonball Adderley (1964). Recorded for Capitol Records in October 1964, this album is a sleeper. If you've avoided it under the assumption that Cannonball had to have been forced to make this album, you'd be wrong. This CD succeeds on so many levels, from the performances to the arrangements of the Jerry Bock songs. Cannonball is joined by Nat Adderley, Charles Lloyd, Joe Zawinul, Sam Jones and Louis Hayes. Cannonball even included Sewing Machine, a song written for the musical but deleted prior to the show's opening on Broadway. The album is available at iTunes or as a CD here.

Music From Breakfast at Tiffany's—Barney Kessel (1962). The beauty of this Reprise album is that it runs very close to the original soundtrack, which is a Henry Mancini masterpiece. What makes the album special is the swinging interpretation of each song. Recorded in January 1962, just three months after the film's release, guitarist Barney Kessel was joined by Bud Shank, Paul Horn, Victor Feldman, Chuck Berghofer and Earl Palmer. If you know the original soundtrack, then this album will be doubly interesting. The arrangements adhere closely to Mancini's score and respectfully tag his orchestral touches throughout. A tad faux-rock noisy in spots (you could skip Mr. Yunioshi and Hub Caps and Tail Lights), the album's softer songs are pure joy. Plus you get to hear Bud Shank on a sumptuous flute as well as alto. The album is available at iTunes. Or it's on CD here, together with two other Kessel albums.

Gypsy—Annie Ross (1959). There has been much mystery surrounding when exactly this album was recorded. In all likelihood, the World Pacific date was held in January 1959. That would place the session a month before Ross recorded A Gasser! in February with Zoot Sims and two months before she became the third member of Lambert, Hendricks and Ross. But how could it have been recorded in January 1959 if the Jule Styne-Stephen Sondheim musical opened on Broadway in May? As Michael Cuscuna shrewdly points in the updated notes, Buddy Bregman, the album's arranger, was Styne's nephew and must have had advanced access to the score. On this album, the steamy Ross was teamed with a monster West Coast jazz ensemble: Conte Candoli, Pete Candoli, Frank Rosolino, Herb Geller, Richie Kamuca and Stan Getz, Bill Perkins, Russ Freeman, Jim Hall, Monty Budwig and Mel Lewis. As you can imagine, every track has splash, dash, punch and pow. The CD is out of print but available here used, from independent sellers for about $8. All I can say is, grab it while you still can!

Dance to South Pacific—Les Brown (1958). This Capitol album was recorded in January 1958 and arranged by a showcase of penmen, including Sonny Burke, Don Bagley, Frank Comstock, Billy May, Wes Hensel and Les Brown. The band treatments of the songs have snap and drive but they also playfully tease out the richness of each Richard Rodgers composition. Many of the charts bear the swinging instrumental complexity of Nelson Riddle's arrangements of the time. For example, dig the baritone sax and bass clarinet interacting with the piccolos on Honey Bun, the opening track. The arranging credit on that tune goes to a "J. Hiff," whose identity remains unknown to me. The CD is available here, doubled with The Les Brown Story.

Jazz Impressions of Pal Joey—Kenny Drew (1957). In October 1957, the Kenny Drew trio consisted of Wilbur Ware on bass and Philly Joe Jones on drums. Recorded for Riverside, this almost-forgotten album was a shrewd attempt by producer Orrin Keepnews to marry a pure jazz trio to a hip soundtrack, and the result works beautifully. Interestingly, the album was recorded the same month the film was released. Much of the music from the film had been around since Pal Joey was first staged on Broadway in 1940 and then revived in 1952. With Frank Sinatra, Rita Hayworth and Kim Novak in leading roles for the film adaptation, the album was assured a commercial piggyback ride. Interestingly, for the film, only eight of the original Richard Rodgers and Lorenz Hart songs remained, with four added from their other shows—I Didn't Know What Time It Was, There's a Small Hotel, Lady Is a Tramp and My Funny Valentine. This album is available as a CD, either as an import here or a reissue here.

Letters: Shaw, Torme and Golson

Over the past couple of days I received several emails from readers in the U.S. and abroad bearing additional information about recent posts. Rather than wait until Sunday, when I normally post the week's bits and pieces, here are the letters now, while the writers' insights are still fresh:

Artie Shaw and Mel Torme. James Wardrop from Pennsylvania offers additional CD sources for the Artie Shaw-Mel Torme-Sonny Burke sessions that I wrote about on Tuesday (May 6, 2008). Jim also passes along a great tip on a Count Basie CD:

"For what it's worth, there were two CDs of Shaw and Torme material on Musicraft issued in 1987 and 1988. The combination of the two,  orchestra and vocal group, is called Artie Shaw & his Orchestra: For You, For Me, For Evermore (MVSCD-50). The other, which features just the Sonny Burke-led material, is Mel Torme and the Mel-Tones: A Foggy Day (MVSCD-54). 

Amazon does not seem to have either, and I don't know if the French Classics series has covered the Shaw numbers, as of yet. Maybe the CDs are available from other sources. It is indeed very hip stuff!

In addition, since you alerted your readers some months ago to the terrific Jimmie Lunceford anthology double CD package, I thought you should be aware of this: The same company has out a wonderful Count Basie: Combos anthology, covering everything from 1936 until 1956. It's the same style of packaging and can be had here from Amazon for $13 bucks—under $9 from used sellers!

Keep up the good work. As a musician-friend of mine remarked the other day, 'reading JazzWax can be dangerous, financially!' "

More Torme, Hearty Shaw. Hans C. Doerrscheidt from Germany spotted another CD package of the Artie Shaw-Mel Torme material, this one in Australia. It features much of the Musicraft material:

"I just found your site via David Miller's 'Swinging Down the Lane' forum and noted your blog entry about the Shaw/Torme Musicraft sessions. These are some of my favorite Shaw recordings!

In addition to the releases you mention, there's also a complete one from Australia, including the Pied Piper album as bonus tracks. Go here. Unfortunately I never got around to ordering the set (I have the two original Musicraft CDs). But I have a feeling it might sound pretty good, remastering-wise. (Listen to the before-after section on that site...)

One little thing: While I don't want to put down Sonny Burke's creative output in any way, Shaw researcher Vladimir Simosko insists that actually Artie Shaw did the arrangements of these tunes, and Burke subsequently wrote the orchestration. This was a practice employed for most of Shaw's ensembles, e.g. Shaw sketched all the arrangements for his 1938-39 band and then had guys like Jerry Gray do the orchestration.

P.S. Thanks for the great fall outlook on the upcoming Benny Goodman Mosaic box!"

Ron Carter and Benny Golson. Ben Yunis of New York City shares his thoughts on my recent interview with Ron Carter (see "JazzWax Interviews" in the right-hand column) and my conversation with Benny Golson (May 1, 2008) about the origins of his composition Park Avenue Petite:

"I've been a big fan and frequent reader of your JazzWax blog for a few months now. I particularly liked your Ron Carter interview. I read it around the time I saw Ron play with his nonet at Birdland in New York, something like the sixth time I've seen that amazing band. [photo of Ron Carter by Judy Kirtley]

I only wish you had asked him about it in the interview, since that group, with four cellists and Ron's bass pushed to the forefront as a soloist seems to me to embody a unique, even peculiar and slightly wacky vision of what jazz can be without being gimmicky. 

The music they play is lush, deeply felt, playful and beautiful.

I'm writing now because I just read your wonderful post about Benny Golson's Park Avenue Petite.  It reminded me of another Benny Golson story (he's obviously an excellent story teller as well as a great musician). 

I read this story in an interview with Golson somewhere online in which he recounted his early days with Art Blakey's Jazz Messengers. I can't find the interview now. But the gist was that the Messengers were struggling despite their immense talents. Golson started writing great tunes and was obviously gleeful about having made a march into jazz (Blues March). 

But the most touching detail was this: Once Bobby Timmons played an amazing little riff. Golson and Blakey encouraged him to develop it into a song.  It was particularly affecting to hear how Golson, obviously the best songwriter in the group at the time, pushed Timmons to write the song rather than work on it himself. 

Timmons came up with a great bridge and they had it. The song was Moanin'. The interview concludes with Golson saying something like, 'We played the song the first night after Bobby wrote it. The audience was in the aisles.'

Keep up the great work on your blog."

Teddy Edwards: Sunset Eyes

The West Coast in the late 1940s was a tough place for an African-American jazz musician to earn a living. With the advent of cool jazz in late 1948, West Coast record labels began abandoning Central Avenue's bop artists in favor of the more laid back and contrapuntal jazz played mostly by white musicians.

As a result, California's three major bebop tenor saxophonists found recording sessions harder to come by between 1948 and 1960. Dexter Gordon recorded only intermittently. Wardell Gray joined Benny Goodman and Count Basie before dying mysteriously in 1955. And Teddy Edwards, whose spectacular tenor sax solos for Dial in the mid-1940s inspired a generation of West Coast saxophonists, barely recorded at all until 1957. [photo of Teddy Edwards above by Philippe Lévy-Stab]

Yet Edwards, most of all, should have continued to be a major force on the West Coast jazz scene. Not only had he been a critical exponent of bebop in California, he also was one of the earliest members of Howard Rumsey's Lighthouse All-Stars and helped Max Roach and Clifford Brown start their hard bop quintet in 1954. But changing times, a series of illnesses and fierce competition from spectacular saxophonists on the East and West coasts kept Edwards out of the recording mainstream during this crucial decade. Though he recorded tirelessly in the decades after 1960, he never would become as well known as he once was or should have been.

Born in Jackson, Mississippi, Edwards played the alto saxophone fluidly despite having had only about seven months of formal training. He sat in the alto chair of several touring bands, winding up in Los Angeles in 1944. On Central Avenue, Los Angeles' club-packed strip, Edwards met trumpeter Howard McGhee [pictured], who convinced him to switch to tenor sax. While playing with McGhee's group in 1945 and 1946, Edwards met Charlie Parker and roomed with him during Parker's stay in Hollywood.

One of Edwards' Dial recording sessions with McGhee in October 1946 included Up in Dodo's Room, which features an early bebop tenor sax solo. Dexter Gordon had already paved the way with bop solos in Billy Eckstine's band for the De Luxe label in September 1944 and in Dizzy Gillespie's quintet on Groovin' High and Blue 'n' Boogie for Guild in February 1945. But Teddy raised the bar in 1947 with The Duel, a tenor battle with Gordon, as well as an impromptu blues that would become one of his biggest hits, Blues in Teddy's Flat. [photo of Dexter Gordon by Herman Leonard]

Edwards provided the back story to Maarten de Haan in a 1999 interview:

“Dexter and I were also supposed to do two pieces without the other—two ballads. But his recording took so much time that there was only five minutes left for me. The producer suggested that I play a simple blues. The only preparation I did was to tell the rhythm section that I was going to play an introduction with a break in the second chorus."

The recording went on to become a $1-million seller for Dial Records, though Edwards said in his de Haan interview that he received only $41.25 for the entire session.

In 1949, Edwards became one of the first members of Howard Rumsey's Lighthouse All-Stars, the house band at the Hermosa Beach club. But as cool jazz became increasingly popular, Edwards became a bebop orphan and went largely unrecorded. As Edwards told Fred Jung of AllAboutJazz in 2003:

"When Dick Bock decided to start Pacific Jazz, I was working at the Lighthouse. I was the star of the Lighthouse. I'm the one that made the Lighthouse big. I worked there from '49, up until '52. Bock came down and chose guys out of the group and didn't choose me. I couldn't understand it. I said, 'I'm the star down here and he's going to overlook me?' He chose mostly white players. I hate the term, black and white players, but that's reality. He didn't use any black players."

The Lighthouse also played a major role in another prominent bop musician's career. In September 1953, Max Roach moved to California from New York to play regularly with the Lighthouse All-Stars. Soon after he started, record producer Gene Norman convinced Roach to form his own group and open at The California, a popular L.A. club. Max went back to New York to recruit trumpeter Clifford Brown, who joined Roach in March 1954. Back on the West Coast, the duo hired tenor saxophonist Sonny Stitt to round out the quintet.

But Stitt wasn't much of a team player. So Roach brought in Edwards to replace him. The group with Edwards recorded at the Pasadena Civic Auditorium [pictured] in April 1954, and among the songs recorded was an Edwards original, Sunset Eyes. What makes Sunset Eyes so fascinating is its slithery melody line and complex rhythm patterns. The song has a bop blues line over minor cool-jazz chord changes and a beat that shifts restlessly between Latin and jazz time. Once you hear it, you can't get it out of your head.

Shortly after the concert, Edwards left the Roach-Brown Quintet. With his wife about to give birth, Edwards said he did not want to tour far from home. With Hank Mobley unavailable on the East Coast, Harold Land [pictured] replaced Edwards.

In the Maarten de Haan interview, Edwards explained Sunset Eyes' origins:

“In the Down Beat Club at some point they taped some television show. The owner of the club expected a lot of the show. He asked me to write a three-minute long piece and said ‘But you have to move while playing it, Teddy, you cannot just stand there and be cool.’ That is why the middle section of Sunset Eyes is danceable. It allows the horn players to move.” 

Edwards began to record again in 1957 and went on to record extensively in the 1960s and beyond. Unlike many jazz legends who died before they were able to outrun the shadows of changing times, Edwards lived long enough to receive recognition for his contribution to bebop and jazz in the 1990s. He died in 2003.

JazzWax tracks: Teddy Edwards' seminal tenor sax solo on Up in Dodo's Room can be found on Howard McGhee On Dial: The Complete Sessions (1945-47) and downloaded at Amazon here.

Edwards' Blues in Teddy's Flat, the wildly successful 78-rpm recorded in 1946 for Dial, is on Dexter Gordon on Dial: The Complete Sessions and can be downloaded at Amazon here.

Though Sunset Eyes was written by Edwards in 1948, it was first recorded surreptitiously at the Lighthouse in 1953. The musicians on the date included Shorty Rogers, Milt Bernhart, Jimmy Giuffre, Bob Cooper, Russ Freeman, Howard Rumsey and Shelly Manne. The track is available on Stan Getz and the Lighthouse All-Stars: Live, a sensational two-CD set on the UK's Giant Steps label. It's available here.

Sunset Eyes was recorded live by the Max Roach-Clifford Brown Quintet in April 1954. It's available on CD on The Historic California Concerts: 1954 (Fresh Sounds) here. Or you can download the track from The Best of Max Roach and Clifford Brown in Concert (Live) at iTunes.

Another smashing version of Sunset Eyes was recorded by trumpeter Jack Sheldon in 1957. The track can be downloaded at iTunes off Jack Sheldon and His All Stars. The all stars were Chet Baker, Stu Williamson, Herb Geller, Art Pepper, Harold Land, Paul Moer, Buddy Clark and Mel Lewis.

Artie Shaw and Mel Torme

In the fall of 1945, Artie Shaw decided not to renew his contract with long-time label RCA Victor/Bluebird. Instead he signed with Musicraft Records, which had emerged like so many other small labels just after the musicians' ban ended. Six months before Shaw's arrival, Musicraft had recorded Dizzy Gillespie, Charlie Parker and Sarah Vaughan, and the label was fast developing a reputation for offering jazz artists more creative freedom than the Big Three—RCA, Columbia and Decca.

Almost immediately after switching labels, Shaw assembled one of the largest orchestras of his career, complete with 15 strings. In late 1945, strings were the thing as more big-name acts led by Shaw, Harry James, Frank Sinatra and others adapted a softer, more soothing feel to meet the easy-listening tastes of a war-weary public. [photo of Artie Shaw above by William P. Gottlieb, circa 1946-48]

By early 1946, Musicraft signed vocalist Mel Torme and the Mel-Tones, a vocal group Torme had started featuring Los Angeles City College students. The Mel-Tones was a young, musically smart, bop-influenced ensemble that had been recording with some success since 1944.

With both Shaw and Torme under contract, Musicraft owner Albert Marx had an idea. Why not team Shaw and Torme to piggyback on the surging success of Sinatra and strings over at Columbia? The Mel-Tones would further enlarge Shaw's already zeppelin-sized band while the group's  hip sound would attract younger listeners. Long story short, the idea was ingenious and the result sounded fantastic.

Between April and November 1946, Shaw and Torme recorded 15 tracks that remain among the most savvy band-vocal-strings treatments of the period. They also set the stage for newer, harmonically shrewder vocal groups like the Four Freshmen and the Hi-Lo's.

The arrangements for the Shaw-Torme sessions were by Sonny Burke. Dramatic and wide-ranging, the charts provided Shaw with plenty of room to sketch out melody lines with his brooding, low-register clarinet. They also were well suited to Torme, whose breathy vocal style was more confessional and sympathetic. In retrospect, the Torme tracks out-hip Sinatra. The Burke charts are much less sugary than Axel Stordahl's flowery arrangements for Sinatra. What's more, if you compare the two singers from the exact same months in 1946, Sinatra's recordings sound faintly pre-war while Torme's are cannily modern and already anticipating the 1950s. As for Torme's approach, his vocal style on these tracks is not only plaintive and confidential but also fresh and breezy. Sinatra's voice during these months tended to sound a bit gloomy, certainly a result of Columbia's heavy hand.

Listeners who are familiar with these Shaw-Torme recordings for Musicraft have long assumed that Shaw hired Torme for the sessions. Not so. Here's how Torme described the relationship in a 1976 interview with Les Tomkins:

"A lot of people think I worked for Artie Shaw when the Mel-Tones and I made those records with him. I never worked for Artie Shaw, ever; he never paid me one penny. I worked with Artie in conjunction with Musicraft Records: we were both under contract, and we were slung together by the record company. But only as joint artists; he was never my employer. He was my idol, though—I thought he was just great.

I would say the Mel-Tones, as a purely vocal group, was well above the average at that time. A lot of the groups with bands had a set kind of sound that could become a little stilted.

What I tried to do with the Mel-Tones, really, was to think of them as a sax section, and write for them that way...I have to admit candidly that the Six Hits And a Miss group [pictured] had simulated the sound of a band with a lot of the things they did, long before I had the Mel-Tones. They were a big factor in the way I wrote for the Mel-Tones. So were the Modernaires and a lot of vocal groups, as a matter of fact. We were only a departure because we did sing some band figures as if there were two saxophone sections with Artie Shaw, rather than one. We tried to do it that way—and it seemed to work.

I kept the Mel-Tones going for three years. We got together in late ‘43, and I broke the group up at the Golden Gate Theatre in San Francisco in November of ‘46. The reason for breaking up the group was I was getting offers to go out as a single.

And also the fact that, tragically, the best vocal groups in the world just didn’t make it...The Mel-Tones were the same. I mean, I wrote arrangement after arrangement, and I never got paid for them, because I was the leader. When we did the Fitch Bandwagon, I got a rapid $125 a week, and I think the Mel-Tones were making $75 a week on that show.

Well, you know, those aren’t living wages, even at a time when prices are lower, when there’s no dearth of economy. So eventually, because I was getting offers, but also because it was a financial consideration, I just had to say: 'We’ve got to call halt to this. We’re all working our heads off, singing like mad, and I’m slaving away writing these arrangements—and the rewards just aren’t enough.' "

If you listen carefully to these Hollywood recordings, you'll hear early signs of West Coast jazz. You'll also hear Shaw, Torme and Burke capturing the country's new-dawn optimism just after World War II.

JazzWax tracks: I've always felt that the recordings Mel Torme made with Artie Shaw were his best. All the 1946 sessions were compiled in 1999 on a terrific CD from the UK called What Is This Thing Called Love? Unfortunately, it's out of print. If you can track down it down on eBay, you'll get the Shaw-Torme dates as well as a bunch of other Shaw recordings for Musicraft from the period. It's going for around $66.

Or...you have another option. Yesterday, after doing a little digging and cross-referencing, I noticed that many of the tracks are available on an imported box called Mel Torme: Jazz and Velvet here. There is one big hole, however. The recording of Get Out of Town foolishly didn't make the cut. Not to worry: You can download it at iTunes along with What Is This Thing Called Love? from the Artie Shaw: Self Portrait box.

There's also this from something called President Records in the UK. Upon close inspection, I notice that it looks identical to the What Is This Thing Called Love? CD above that's out of print. Considering it was released in 2003 and is only $18, it's probably worth a shot.

To me, the Shaw-Torme version of Cole Porter's Get Out of Town remains the definitive execution of this song. Shaw's soothing, jaunty clarinet perfectly offsets Torme's smokey-soft phrasing, and the Burke arrangement is pure drama. And dig Torme's loose, hip treatment with the lyric 2:43 into the song, when he adds a subtle gasp: "And when you're near, so close to me dear, we [gasp] touch too much." Brilliant!

JazzWax video clips: You can hear a 78-rpm recording of What Is This Thing Called Love? here. Dig the complexity of the Sonny Burke chart and how the different sections of the band explode at different times in bop-influenced configurations. Then dig the Mel-Tones with the strings washing over them. And finally, Torme's sound and phrasing on the vocal. It's a shame only 15 tracks were recorded. But 15 is certainly better than one or two.

Terry Teachout's Hot Lips List

Shortly after Oran Thaddeus Page moved to Kansas City from Dallas, Texas in the late 1920s, he became a trumpet sensation in several of the city's best-known emerging swing bands, including Count Basie's. In 1936, Basie and Hot Lips, as he was known, parted. Basie agreed to be managed by John Hammond, who brought the band to New York and national recognition. Page decided to go the solo route, signing with Joe Glaser, Louis Armstrong's manager.

According to Todd Bryant Weeks' newly published Luck's in My Corner: The Life and Music of Hot Lips Page, Glaser purposefully held Page back, getting him second-rate bookings to keep Page from diluting the potency of Louis Armstrong's phenomenal appeal and success.

Throughout his recording career, Page retained much of the traditional blues flavor he picked up while touring the Southwest in the late 1920s backing blues shouters and singers such as Ma Rainey and Bessie Smith. Page's powerful chops allowed him to bend notes, creating the sensation that his horn was growling or singing.

Despite Page's place in jazz, there are no solid box sets of his recordings. So it was with great pleasure on Friday that I opened an email from critic and author Terry Teachout informing me that he was listening to a fabulous mix of Hot Lips Page. Terry just finished writing Rhythm Man: A Life of Louis Armstrong, which will be published next year by Harcourt. Given Terry's touch for taking any subject and bringing it to life, I can't wait.

Terry and I often surprise each other with emails (usually when it's pouring rain) asking what the other is listening to. When Terry told me Hot Lips Page, I asked him if there was a new compilation. Terry said no, he had simply created his own prime collection via downloads at iTunes. So I asked Terry if he wouldn't mind sharing his list of 10 favorite Hot Lips Page downloads. Here's his terrific track list:

1. Cherry Red (1939). With Pete Johnson and His Boogie Woogie Boys. This Pete Johnson track is available at iTunes on The Real Kansas City of the '20s, '30s, and '40s.

2. I Won't Be Here Long (1940). It can be found on Black Legends of Jazz.

3. Thirsty Mama Blues (1940). The Hot Lips Page Trio from the album, All Star Jazz Quartets.

4. Gee Baby, Ain't I Good to You? (1941). With Chu Berry and His Jazz Ensemble (search for "Chu Berry") from Tenor Giants: Chu Berry and Coleman Hawkins.

5. Blues in the Night (1941). With Artie Shaw and His Orchestra
from Artie Shaw: Self Portrait.

6. St. James Infirmary Blues (Parts I and II) (1941). With Artie Shaw and His Orchestra from The Essential Artie Shaw.

7. Uncle Sam's Blues (1944). Hot Lips Page's Swing Seven from Savoy Blues 1944/1994.

8. Jammin' the Boogie (1944). Albert Ammons and His Rhythm Kings (search for "Albert Ammons") from The Commodore Story.

9. They Raided the Joint (1945). Hot Lips Page and His Orchestra from On the Blues Side.

10. Buffalo Bill Blues (1946). Hot Lips Page and His Orchestra
from On the Blues Side.

Sunday Wax Bits

A Great Night in Harlem. If you're in New York on May 29th, mark your calendar. The concert of the season will surely be The Jazz Foundation of America's A Great Night in Harlem at the Apollo Theater. Hosted by Bill Cosby and Danny Glover, the concert's lineup of jazz stars is staggering: Randy Weston, Frank Foster, Jimmy Health, Phil Woods, Frank Wess, Hank Jones, Dave Brubeck and many, many others.

Best of all, proceeds from ticket sales will enable the Jazz Foundation to continue to do its noble work—helping aging and ailing jazz musicians in need and without means. This is a loving organization, and I know firsthand how hard executive director Wendy Oxenhorn [pictured] and her team toils on behalf of hard-pressed artists. Serving as a safety net for jazz musicians, the Jazz Foundation steps up and helps artists get housing, jobs, health care and even instruments while preserving their dignity.

Do your heart and ears a favor by coming up to the Apollo on the 29th. To learn more about the Jazz Foundation of America and make a donation, go here. To order tickets, call (212) 245-3999, ext. 28. Seats cost from $50 to $1,500. The concert starts at 8 pm.

Benny Goodman on Mosaic. Last week, I checked in with Mosaic Records' set producer Scott Wenzel about the much anticipated Classic Columbia and Okeh Benny Goodman Orchestra Sessions (1939-1958). Scott told me the box will consist of seven discs, cost $119 and likely will be released in September. The amazing Loren Schoenberg is writing the liner notes. Wenzel says the box will include more than 25 previously unissued recordings and one new song, Swanee River (1958), that had been previously undocumented in discographies. This is shaping up to be the box of the year.

Jan Stevens on Bill Evans. Starting in June Jan Stevens, pianist and host of the Bill Evans Web Pages, will begin looking back at the jazz pianist's classic albums in a series of essays. The first in Jan's series of retrospective evaluations will be At the Montreux Jazz Festival, which was recorded 40 years ago next month. In addition, Jan's tribute site now features a fabulous clip of Bill in 1972. At his site, Jan provides a bit of background:

"The Bill Evans Trio (with Eddie Gomez and Marty Morell) toured Europe in the early months of 1972. On February 12, German broadcasters filmed their rehearsal with reedman Herb Geller (here on alto flute), who appeared with them the following night in their concert in Hamburg...This clip is also of great interest since we also get a rare glimpse of Ellaine (in the white turtleneck sweater), Bill's lady during those years, in the background."

Ira Gitler on Jimmy Giuffre. Jazz author, critic and legendary liner-notes writer Ira Gitler [pictured] emailed me last week with insights into Woody Herman’s recording of Four Others. If you recall, in Part 2 of my Jimmy Giuffre tribute post last week, I had wondered why the 1954 track was never commercially released and mentioned it appeared on Mosaic’s Complete Capitol Recordings of Woody Herman and on the CD Woody Herman’s Finest Hour.

Here's Ira's email:

“I own a version of Four Others on a Columbia LP called The Three Herds (CL 592). Woody states in the notes that the track was ‘cut for our own label, Mars.’ Woody also says that the song was originally titled A Quart of 'Bones. The 'bones in order of their solos were Kai Winding [pictured], Frank Rehak, Vern Friley and Urbie Green.

"I checked the Mars recordings, which were done at Columbia's 30th St. studio. According to the notes, the Mars recordings were offered to Columbia but were rejected—all except Four Others, which made it to the Three Herds anthology LP. Four Others and the rejects also made it to two Discovery LPs—The Third Herd, Vols. 1 and 2 in 1982.”

Puzzled by the version Ira cited, I did a little research. It