JazzWax

JazzWax FAQ: Questions Answered

Now that we've reached the end of one year and the start of a new one, I figure now is as good a time as any to tie up a few loose ends. In the past couple of months, I've received quite a few emails from new readers asking about JazzWax and how things work.

Here, in a nutshell, are the questions I'm most frequently asked along with the answers:

What is JazzWax? It's a blog where I write about jazz six days a week. I love this music, and my goal is to share my passion for jazz recordings and jazz legends with readers worldwide. The site is written to appeal to novices as well as hard-core jazz fans. From time to time, I jump track and write about Latin-jazz, pop, r&b, disco and soul or any other form of music that interests me.

Who determines what you write about? I alone decide on daily topics, without influence or pressure. I write only about recordings and artists I enjoy most. If a recording is dull, I pass. Many publicists have discovered this the hard way. My hope is that readers will find my choices as exciting as I do, and that my efforts will educate and illuminate. I also hope my taste and perspective will save readers time and money when making CD and download choices, especially if they're unfamiliar with a particular artist.

What's your overall mission? My intent is simply to share my passion for jazz and taste in recordings with anyone who chooses to tune in each day. I'm also determined to preserve as many jazz-legend stories as possible. We are lucky to live in an age when many great artists are still among us. I believe that unless their stories are documented, future generations won't have a sense of who was playing all that great music and how they felt. The Q&A format seems to work best, giving you a chance to read without encountering too much gray type.

Which jazz legends have you interviewed? If you scroll down the right-hand side of JazzWax.com, to "JazzWax Interviews," you'll find the master list. To access an interview, simply click on a blue name. In many cases, each entry has up to five parts.

How can I access the other parts of an interview? At the very top of Part 1 of an interview, you'll see a blue "Part 2" link in parenthesis. Simply click on it, and Part 2 will appear. You can continue along this route until the interview series ends.

What do the Roman numerals mean after the names of artists in your interview list? This just means there are multiple interviews with the same legend. For example, the "Creed Taylor I" link contains Parts 1-4, while the "Creed Taylor II" link features Parts 5-9. Click and explore.

What's the best way to print out a page? Don't simply hit your computer's print button. You'll only run into trouble. Instead, when you see a page you want, go to the bottom of the post. There, you'll see the word "Permalink" in blue. Click on it. When the page comes up, hit your print button. This is the electronic equivalent of tearing out a single page from the JazzWax "book."

How can I search your site? Many people email asking how they can find out whether I've written on a particular musician or topic. The long way is to scroll through the archives. The short way is to type in what you're looking for in the search engine atop the right-hand column. Just be sure that "JazzWax" is checked, not the "Web."

Who owns your content? JazzWax™ is a registered U.S. trademark owned by Marc Myers LLC. The posts at this site are copyrighted and may be used or excerpted only with my permission.

Where else does your content appear? JazzWax is syndicated on the home page of JAZZ.FM91 under an agreement between JazzWax and Canada's leading nonprofit radio station in Toronto. From time to time, JazzWax also is picked up by Jazz.com and All About Jazz at the discretion of those sites' editors and publishers, and by permission.

Can I subscribe to JazzWax? Yes, and it's free. In the right-hand side, toward the top, you'll see "Subscribe for Free." You have two choices:

1. If you have already set up a customized Google or Yahoo home page, the "Subscribe" button will put the current day's headline and previous ones on your home page with easy links. Then you just click to access.

2. Or you can provide your email address in the box, and an email of the previous day's column will be delivered to you. Your email isn't used for anything but providing you with a copy of JazzWax.

Why does the email version come a day late? I have no idea. I suspect it's done that way because the company that handles this needs time to bundle it up. If you prefer to have the current day's content, choose option No. 1 mentioned above. Or simply bookmark JazzWax.com.

Do you appear on the radio? Yes, from time to time I host "JazzWax with Marc Myers," a two-hour program on Jazz.FM91, featuring rare music from my collection and anecdotes from my artist interviews. You can listen to these shows over the web on your computer. I often announce when these shows will air in my weekly roundup, "Sunday Wax Bits."

Happy New Year to JazzWax readers throughout the world! May 2009 bring you peace, jazz and good fortune.

And starting on Monday, Part 1 of my interview with legendary drummer Jimmy Cobb.

Freddie Hubbard (1938-2008)

Freddie Hubbard, one of hard bop's most versatile and soulful trumpeters who in the 1960s appeared on one essential album after the next, died yesterday in Los Angeles of a heart attack. He was 70.

Hubbard, like Lee Morgan, Donald Byrd and Booker Little, was an heir to Clifford Brown's searing, rapid-fire trumpet style. Often paired with Hank Mobley and Wayne Shorter on Blue Note recordings, Hubbard also recorded with Art Blakey [pictured] and the Jazz Messengers in the early and mid-1960s.

While Hubbard was frequently a key ingredient on other musicians' recording dates, he was equally brilliant as a session leader. A firm, creative songwriter, Hubbard's compositions had a melodic and rhythmic complexity that captured the decade's intellectual curiosity and urgency.

Throughout his career, Hubbard could swing effortlessly at breakneck speeds, adding power surges in the mid-range, not just at the top of a run. Hubbard also was artful on ballads, blending soulful tenderness with a chrome-like vibrato and carefully slurred notes. On standards, Hubbard often snapped apart the melodies of well-known songs like a Calder sculpture—without letting their established beauty slip through his fingers.

Despite coming up through the jazz ranks at a time when Miles Davis cast a long shadow over the jazz trumpet scene, Hubbard [pictured] managed to forge his own identity, giving his playing a tightly wrapped articulation. His warm aggression made him a favorite of many leading musicians of the period who found they could reach new levels of playing when challenged by Hubbard's energetic horn. Blowing power was important to Hubbard, but so was free thinking and a love of the blues, all of which he could incorporate into a single solo.

In appraising Hubbard's work on disc, one comes to the realization that in the 1960s the trumpeter never made a bad album, either as a leader or a sideman. With Hubbard during this period, there were only great performances and even greater ones. In my conversation earlier this year with producer Creed Taylor [pictured], the founder of Impulse Records looked back on Oliver Nelson's The Blues and the Abstract Truth (1961) and singled out Hubbard:

JazzWax: Did you realize at the time that Blues and the Abstract Truth was going to be a classic?
Creed Taylor: Sure. The album was an epic in my life. Freddie Hubbard had the most magnificent solos on there.

Hubbard's sideman recordings alone are remarkable. Between just 1957 and 1961, Hubbard appeared on John Coltrane's The Believer, Eric Dolphy's Outward Bound, Kenny Drew's Undercurrent, Ornette Coleman's Free Jazz, Oliver Nelson's The Blues and the Abstract Truth, Dexter Gordon's Doin' Alright and Coltrane's Africa Brass and Ole.

Hubbard's Jazz Messengers period from 1961 to 1965 teamed him with Wayne Shorter and resulted in Mosaic, Three Blind Mice, Buhaina's Delight and several other classic recordings.

Then starting at the tail end of 1964 and continuing through October of 1965, Hubbard recorded a stunning streak of monumental jazz albums as a sideman. These recordings included Wayne Shorter's Speak No Evil, Hank Mobley's The Turnaround, Andrew Hill's One for One, Quincy Jones' The Pawnbroker soundtrack, Shorter's The Soothsayer, Herbie Hancock's Maiden Voyage, Bobby Hutcherson's Dialogue and Components, Coltrane's Ascension and Shorter's All Seeing Eye. Not bad for a year's work.

Hubbard's own dates as a leader in the 1960s were just as extraordinary from both playing and composing perspectives. Among his classic dates were Open Sesame, Hub-Tones, Goin' Up and Ready for Freddie, which in my opinion is an underappreciated game-changing jazz album. On this 1961 album, we hear three Hubbard originals, one by Shorter and a standard, Weaver of Dreams. The importance of Ready for Freddie rests in its tension. Unlike previous hard bop albums, the tracks here break new melodic ground and set the stage for Shorter's Speak No Evil recorded three years later. We hear Hubbard and Shorter feed off each other creatively, with Bernard McKinney on euphonium, Art Davis on bass and Elvin Jones on drums. We also hear a brilliant McCoy Tyner, who had just finished recording six powerful albums with John Coltrane. On Ready for Freddie, Hubbard's hot metal sound is countered by Shorter's velvet sledgehammer, and there's a clean articulation throughout.

Starting in 1970, Hubbard began a multi-year relationship with Creed Taylor's newly founded CTI Records. The first recording was Red Clay, a masterpiece that many consider to be the trumpeter's A Love Supreme. A series of albums for CTI followed in the early 1970s, with Hubbard becoming one of the label's best-selling artists. He won a Grammy for First Light in 1972. Hubbard continued to record throughout the 1980s, but in 1992 he was sidelined after severely damaging and infecting his lip. In recent years, Hubbard attempted a comeback, recording On the Real Side a year ago. [Pictured: Creed Taylor and Freddie Hubbard; photo by Chuck Stewart]

Ultimately, it's Hubbard's classic period from 1960 to 1970 that remains the most remarkable. During this decade, Hubbard provoked, challenged and dared—without ever sacrificing beauty or soul. Along the way, he also changed the art form, putting extreme heat back into an instrument that Miles Davis had cooled off.

JazzWax video clip: Here's Hubbard on Benny Golson's I Remember Clifford. Listen as Hubbard neatly avoids falling into the trap of sounding like dozens of other trumpet players who have played the standard in the past...

Swinging 60s: Brit Girls Rule

In 1968, when I was a kid, my artist parents took me and my brother to London for a few weeks on a budget summer vacation. In retrospect, I wish they had taken us a few years earlier so I could have seen Swinging London at the height of its glory. But in 1968, I still got an eyeful of bold colors, wide stripes and long hair as well as an earful of BBC hit radio. What stuck out most, in addition to Carnaby Street, mini skirts and white boots, was the steady stream of young female pop voices I heard on the odd radio set built into the headboard in the hotel room.

In the 1960s, the female pop vocalist was largely a British phenomenon. There were plenty of girl groups in the U.S. singing pop and soul. But the stand-alone teen vocalist with mom's hairdo and a prematurely deep voice belting out tunes about cheating boyfriends and catty girlfriends never really gained traction here. As popular as Connie Francis, Brenda Lee, Dionne Warwick and Mary Wells were in the mid-1960s, they weren't quite the same as the Brit gals nor were they as adored by the record-buying public.

In fact, America's Leslie Gore, Cher and Diana Ross really came in response to British solo sensations such as Helen Shapiro, Shirley Bassey, Petula Clark [pictured] and Dusty Springfield. Many of the U.S. female hit-makers were ramped up fast by record labels here in part to stave off the troubling rise in popularity of British female vocalists who were making inroads on the U.S. charts.

Fortunately for American labels, the Brit Girl Invasion never materialized. By 1964, teenage girls in the U.S. were reaching maturity. As pillow talk gave way to makeup and skirts, American teenage girls were less interested in lyrics offered up by solo girl singers and more smitten by British boy bands. [Photo: Bill Ray for Life]

In recent years, the stand-alone British female pop vocalist has made something of a comeback with the success of Amy Winehouse and Adele [pictured]. But the golden age of this English genre ran roughly from 1960 to 1967. Sadly, the potent sound has been largely forgotten or in many cases unknown. When I ran Helen Shapiro's name past a half dozen rock and pop fans over the weekend, all said "Who?"

To be fair, there's no real reason for anyone here to know of these English gals. American audiences caught only a small fraction of the British girl sound through Dusty Springfield [pictured], Petula Clark and Shirley Bassey. At the dawn of the 1960s, before transcontinental TV broadcasts and international record distribution, the U.K.'s charts and talent were largely cut off from the U.S. To this day, most people think of the pre-Beatles rock era as largely an American affair dominated by Elvis Presley, Fats Domino and Chuck Berry.

Those who are somewhat hip to the U.K.'s early rock scene usually site Cliff Richard [pictured] and the Shadows, Freddie and the Dreamers, the Dave Clark Five, Rory Storm and the Hurricanes, Gerry and the Pacemakers and other guy groups.

Lost in the shuffle are the fabulous British girl vocalists. Many of these singers were from poor families and could belt out songs with voices that masked their true age. All were charismatic, tireless and hungry for success. And all trained their initial efforts on Europe, not the U.S., which was tightly controlled by record companies and prohibitively expensive to make a dent. So many of these singers and their managers pushed for less expensive exposure opportunities on the Continent.

As the British Invasion accelerated rapidly following the Beatles' U.S. success in 1964, many British girl singers also tried to make the leap to the U.S. Many tried by raiding the songbook of Burt Bacharach [pictured] and Hal David. Yet only a few managed to capture the hearts and imaginations of American audiences. Dionne Warwick's interpretations were more mature, closer to Americans' hearts and far better promoted.

The rest of the Brit Girls remained behind in the U.K. for a range of reasons. Some had the right sound but the wrong look. Some had the right look but an unintelligible British accent. Others who clicked with Britain's more sophisticated pop listeners didn't connect with America's quirky mass market. Or they had lousy management and even worse luck. The British girl singers who remained in the U.K. managed to eke out singing careers there, many turning to jazz. But as they aged, they slipped into semi-obscurity as new trends and younger pop singers emerged.

Looking back and listening to these British girl singers, you can't help but notice how remarkable most of them were. Some took on a lusty Northern soul sound while others had a more pixie approach. All were enormously upbeat and perky. And the songs were fabulous. You listen to the high quality of these tunes and realize there's an entire slice of pop music history here that has been all but lost. And no one here has really made a fuss over them.

To illustrate, let me share with you the best of the breed, followed by audio and video clips that show why the Brit Girls of the 1960s were so special and in many cases the molds for American counterparts:

Shirley Bassey—She was the first of this genre to have a No. 1 hit in in the U.K. in 1959 with As I Love You. Though she was 22 years old at the time, Bassey straddled both the traditional 1950s pop era and emerging mod scene of the 1960s. Her recording of the James Bond theme Goldfinger in 1964 introduced her voice to the U.S., and she had greater U.K. success with the Beatles Something than the group did itself. Here's a clip of her first hit As I Love You...

Petula Clark—Born in 1933, Clark was a teenage sensation in the late 1940s and well established by the 1950s. Her first No. 1 hit in the U.K. was Sailor in February 1961. Most people aren't aware that Downtown (1964) and her other 1965-67 hits were recorded when Clark was already in her 30s. Yet visually she looked at least 10 years younger. Here Clark takes charge on one of her monster hits, I Couldn't Live Without Your Love (1966)...

Helen Shapiro—She is perhaps the first Brit teen singer of the rock era and in my opinion the best. She scored her first No. 1 U.K. single at age 14 in August 1961 with You Don't Know followed by Walkin' Back to Happiness in October. Shapiro was so popular by 1963 that the Beatles opened for her on their first U.K. tour. Shapiro almost made it in the U.S., appearing on The Ed Sullivan Show in 1961. But she was a few years too early, and by the time the Beatles hit, her look and sound were all wrong. It didn't help that her record producer of the time foolishly turned down Misery, a song that John Lennon and Paul McCartney had written for her. Go here to see Shapiro sing Look Who It Is with three of the Fab Four. And go here and listen to two powerful U.K. tracks from the late 1960s that show off Shapiro's staying power. But to appreciate Shapiro's visual take-charge attack, dig It Might As Well As Rain Until September...

Susan Maughan—[pictured] had just one hit with Bobby's Girl in 1962. But she continued to have success in Britain in the years that followed...

Kathy Kirby—Her big U.K. hits were Dance On in 1962 and I Belong in 1965...

Dusty Springfield—When Dusty left the folk trio The Springfields in 1963 and went out on her own, she became one of the first British female artists to have a massive hit in the U.S., just before the Beatles' arrival, with I Only Want To Be With You in January 1964. But it was this song from 1966 that became her only No. 1 U.K. hit...

Cilla Black—Seemingly reserved, Black made up for her plain looks with sheer lung power. One of the strongest Brit girl voices, Black had her first U.K. hit in 1963 with Love of the Loved and Anyone Who Had a Heart. Unlike most of the other girl vocalists, Black was the first significant singer to come out of Liverpool at the height of the Mersey Sound. A pal of the Beatles, she was discovered by Brian Epstein, the Beatles' manager, and helped greatly by producer George Martin. Black outsold all other female recording artists in Britain during the 1960s and was Britain's second most successful act after the Beatles. Her recording of Alfie in 1966 for the U.K. film release still staggers. Yet Black never was a household name in the U.S., largely because of her less-than-glamorous looks. Dig Black's power here in 1966...

Billie Davis—Her big hit was Tell Him, in February 1963...

Sandie Shaw—Shaw's appeal was in her mod, angular looks and strong, enveloping voice. Shaw managed to combine a free-spirited shyness with a knowing delivery that won over both male and female audiences. In 1964, Shaw had a big hit here with There's Always Someone There to Remind Me. But here's her lesser-known 1965 U.K. hit, Long Live Love...

Lulu—Best known in the U.S. for To Sir, With Love in 1967, Lulu also had a hit in 1964 with Shout. Here's another one of her U.K. hits, Leave a Little Love...

The list goes on and on. Among the many other Brit girl singers during this era were Twinkle, Julie Rogers, Samantha Jones, Barbara Ruskin and Jackie Trent, who had a 1965 hit with Where Are You Now...

JazzWax tracks: Want more? If you dig Helen Shapiro [pictured] as much as I do, here's a web site that lets you listen to many of her hits for free. And if you want to know more about the swinging British girl-singer movement, this European site (ReadySteadyGirls.eu) has loads of information and audio clips. These girls didn't have Phil Spector, the Motown machine or vital radio access to U.S. markets. But what many lacked in political power they made up for with quaint charm, youthful talent and raw confidence.

Sunday Wax Bits

Eartha Kitt (1927-2008). Eartha Kitt, the first American pop singer to break the seduction barrier in the early 1950s and perform songs with a liberated sense of entitlement and sexual prowess, died on Christmas Day. She was 81.

Though never considered a pure jazz singer, Kitt was more of a naughty narrator with an exaggerated vibrato in the European tradition. Yet Kitt had a warm, rich tone that put her on par with any pop singer of Tin Pan Alley standards.

Throughout the 1950s, Kitt built her persona on a purring mimicry and smoldering intensity that was half theatrical, half calendar girl. Despite popular acclaim, Kitt felt most comfortable as an outsider, going out of her way to create just enough uncertainty about who she was and what her lyrics meant to keep audiences guessing. Upon hearing Kitt's rendition of Santa Baby (1953), for example, the listener is never quite sure whether she's the kept woman of a sugar daddy or the paramour of Old St. Nick himself.

The ambiguity of Kitt's intent is part of what made her so endearing. As an African-American performer who boldly used her sexuality as a burlesque prop during the racially charged 1950s, Kitt managed to defy definition and escape typecasting. In the public's mind, she wasn't black or white, an r&b singer or a pop crooner, American or French. In fact, Kitt didn't fit any mold, preferring instead to carve out her own niche as a transcontinental chanteuse with a fetish for luxury goods and pampering.

With facial features as angular as the fins on a '59 Cadillac, Kitt came across as an untamed spirit who was both down to earth and high maintenance. While her unrestrained vocal attack on songs could border on parody, her emotional honesty in front of a camera eventually made her a symbol of defiance and strength.

But her shoot-first personality also could get her in trouble. In 1968, during a White House luncheon, Kitt's unvarnished comments to Lady Bird Johnson about the Vietnam War reportedly brought the president's wife to tears. ("You send the best of this country off to be shot and maimed. No wonder the kids rebel and take pot.")

The result was an unofficial blacklisting by the music industry, a ban from which Kitt never fully recovered. By the time Kitt restored her reputation in the late 1980s, she was considered more camp than a serious pop-vocal legend.

Yet Kitt's brassy nerve at that White House luncheon made its mark, emboldening black and white entertainers to openly criticize presidents on a wide range of issues. In later years, Kitt's image as a steely outsider who was comfortable with herself provided gay audiences with strength and solace.

Personally, I've always preferred Kitt's songs sung in French. I love the high-style, fashion-forward sound of her voice, and no one can top those rolling French "r's" and the passion she brought to performances. And there's nothing quite as endearing as watching Kitt laugh at her own out-there performance at the tail end of songs. To get a feel for this exciting sound, download the French songs off Miss Kitt to You at iTunes.

Here's a quintessential clip of Kitt from 1962 (watch those hands!):

Billy Taylor. Bret Primack ("The Jazz Video Guy") has posted a superb video interview with Billy Taylor on the pianist's interactions with tenor saxophonist Ben Webster. Go here to view Bret's nine-minute clip. And to see Bret's NYU film school project and directorial debut from 1971, go here. It's pure New York in the very early 1970s. Interestingly, this pre-dates Martin Scorsese's Taxi Driver by five years.

Bill Evans. I asked Jan Stevens of the Bill Evans Web Pages to provide a bit more detail on the audio clip he posted last week of Bill Evans singing and playing Santa Claus Is Coming to Town:

"It was recorded in Stockholm on August 23, 1964 at the AB Europa Film Studios (that's the date that Verve provides). However, these sessions were a part of dates Bill was doing with vocalist Monica Zetterlund (with Chuck Israels and Larry Bunker), and those tracks are said to have been recorded on August 29th. The vocal track I featured appears on that gigantic rusted metal case outrage of a package that was The Complete Bill Evans on Verve box set.

"Bill, of course, recorded Santa Claus in January 1963 for the Solo Sessions project and again in December of that year for what became Trio '64, with Gary Peacock and Paul Motian. Bill also double-tracked the song later in 1967 for the second Conversations release."

Jazz and the Beatles. Matt Leskovic last week offered a terrific roundup of jazz interpretations of Beatles songs at Jazz.com. Go here to see Matt's "Dozens" list and review.

Christmas 1942. John, a reader, sent along an email about a 12-hour radio broadcast from Christmas 1942 that featured bands from all over the U.S.:

"The Coca Cola Company sponsored what appears to have been a 12-hour broadcast of it's Victory Parade of Spotlight Bands featuring near 40 different orchestras broadcasting live from various military and war related facilities from all over the U.S. on the NBC Blue Network.

"I have read allusions to this program, but have seen very little documentation and heard no broadcast. Is this another landmark in big band and Swing music that has been essentially forgotten? One source says it is the longest broadcast in radio history. Here's a segment from the Chicago Daily Tribune radio log for that day.

"What a production! I wonder whether it was the first jazz festival heard live over the air."

Editor's note: When I was a kid back in the 1970s, I worked for J. David Goldin [pictured], founder of Radiola Records. David knows more about old radio programs than anyone else I can think of. At his site here, you'll find contact information. If anyone knows about the existence of a recording of this show, it's Dave.

Old record labels and covers. If you're as nuts about old record covers as I am and you want to know a little history about the small labels of the mid-1940s, John sent links here, here and here to pages at a site devoted to Continental, Remington, Plymouth, Masterseal records.

Movie bloopers. Director Raymond de Felitta's post last week at Movies 'Til Dawn detailed the editing process of his upcoming film, City Island. He also paid homage to the famed building on the Warner Brothers lot where the editing took place. Scroll toward the bottom of his post and you'll find a fabulous video clip of Hollywood bloopers, featuring the likes of Humphrey Bogart, James Stewart and others blowing their lines. It's a hoot.

Gal Costa and Cassandra Wilson. New York Times jazz critic Ben Ratliff will interview Brazilian singer Gal Costa and jazz vocalist Cassandra Wilson on stage at the Times Center in New York on Sunday, January 11th, at 2 pm. Tickets for JazzWax readers are $25 each if you type in the access code NYTED when ordering here.

The pairing of the two singers should make for interesting conversation, juxtaposing the care-free passion of Costa's Latin approach and the patient intensity of Wilson's soul-jazz influences.

Costa, 63, has been recording since the early 1960s and helped pioneer the Tropicalismo movement, which combined bossa nova, rock and Brazilian folk. One of my favorite Costa albums is Gal Costa Today, a CD recorded in 2005. Consisting mostly of ballads, you get to hear the singer in a reflective mood, which suits her voice perfectly.

Wilson, 53, came of age in the soul-jazz era of the 1980s, weaving a humid ballad style with the vocal impressionism of Abbey Lincoln and Betty Carter. One of Wilson's most fascinating albums is Traveling Miles (1999), on which she sings the music of Miles Davis, including Seven Steps to Heaven, Run the Voodoo Down and Never Broken. Both albums mentioned above are available at iTunes.

Moment of gratitude. A special thanks to Jon Foley, who early each day generously makes time in his schedule to proof JazzWax from California, catching my typos and sparing me too much embarrassment. From time to time, Jon, who has been reading JazzWax from day No. 1, also regales me with recollections of the great jazz concerts and club dates he has attended since the early 1950s, only to produce a sigh of envy on my end. Many thanks, Jon.

And a special thanks to all who have spent time in the past year reading JazzWax and sending me emails in praise of a post, to add more information, share recollections, clarify statements, or just take issue with something I've written. The web never ceases to amaze, and I'm always surprised and grateful to learn that there are so many readers in the U.S. and throughout the world. The online jazz community is a special one, indeed.

Oscar Peterson Said It

"1. I wish I could play the piano the way I want to.

2. I wish that everyone was born with innate understanding of all art forms.

3. Love throughout the world, individual to individual."

—Oscar Peterson's three wishes, as told to Pannonica de Koenigswarter, from Three Wishes: An Intimate Look at Jazz Greats.

A JazzWax Holiday Card

In the days ahead you won't be able to turn on the radio without hearing sticky holiday music fare that includes Jingle Bell Rock, Rockin' Around the Christmas Tree and Here Comes Santa Claus. So I figured I'd give you a break—not by sparing you holiday music but by presenting you with my 12 favorite video clips of Christmas songs, courtesy of YouTube. Have a great holiday!

Dexter Gordon—Christmas Song. From Bouncin' With Dex (1975)...

Meredith D'Ambrosio and Hank Jones—Christmas Waltz. From Little Jazz Bird (1982)...

Sauter-Finegan Orchestra—Midnight Sleighride. From NBC Bandstand (1957)...

Frank Sinatra—I've Got My Love to Keep Me Warm. From The Frank Sinatra Show (1950). Go here.

Andy Williams and his brothers—Winter Wonderland. From an Andy Williams Christmas Special (early 1970s). Go here.

Nat King Cole—Christmas Song. From a Nat King Cole Show (mid-1950s)...

Charlie Parker—White Christmas. From a broadcast from the Royal Roost early Christmas morning (1948)...

Rosemary Clooney—Let It Snow. From a broadcast of The Rosemary Clooney Show (early 1950s)...

Rosemary Clooney (with Tony Randall and Tab Hunter)—I've Got My Love to Keep Me Warm. From a late 1950s TV broadcast...

Peggy Lee—Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas. From the late 1960s (you just have to get past the Clouds intro)...

Billie Holiday—I've Got My Love to Keep Me Warm (1937)...

Frank Sinatra—Santa Claus Is Coming to Town. From a 1957 Bing Crosby Christmas Special...

A.K. Salim: Flute Suite

The first time Frank Wess and Herbie Mann recorded shoulder to shoulder on flute was in 1957, for an album led by arranger A.K. Salim called Flute Suite. The six tracks are neatly divided between mid-tempo blues and sophisticated originals. On four of the tracks, the two bop pipers run down complex lines in tandem and blow superb individual solos. On the remaining two, they play tenor saxes. Best of all, the album showcases Salim's little-known prowess as a small-group jazz writer, not bad for an enormously gifted arranger and composer known for producing anvil-heavy big-band swingers.

Long out of print, Flute Suite can be found tucked away on a two-CD set of Salim's work for Savoy Records. More in a minute.

Ahmad Khatab Salim is one of my favorite arrangers of the 1950s. Born Albert Atkinson in 1922, the alto saxophonist and clarinetist converted to Islam in the 1940s and changed his name. Salim gave up playing in 1943 following a jaw injury and focused on arranging. He wrote and ghostwrote for many of the major big bands of the 1940s, including Lucky Millinder [pictured], Jimmie Lunceford and Lionel Hampton. Salim had a knack for weaving together powerful charts with multiple melody lines that built to swinging crescendos. He also could pen with a light, lyrical touch, offering up spring-loaded melodies framed by modern harmonies, creating a sound favored by Quincy Jones and Gigi Gryce.

Perhaps matched only by Chico O'Farrill, Salim could write as effortlessly and as authentically for jazz bands as he could for the best Latin mambo orchestras of the era. For example, Salim arranged Illinois Jacquet's Boot 'em Up and Count Basie's Blee Blop Blues as well as Tito Puente's Puente Goes Jazz and Machito's Kenya, two important albums in the development of Latin-jazz. During the 1950s, he also arranged for Louie Bellson, Dizzy Gillespie and others.

Yet Salim today remains largely a mystery. He's listed in the original Encyclopedia of Jazz but he doesn't turn up in subsequent volumes, nor does he appear listed in the massive New Grove Dictionary of Jazz. Salim's last known album as a leader was Afro Soul Drum Orgy in 1964 for Prestige. Except for a cryptic note in the Encyclopedia of Jazz about Salim dabbling in real estate in the early 1950s, that's pretty much all there is.

Known mostly for big swinging orchestrations, Salim led five small-group Savoy albums between 1957 and 1958, The first LP was Flute Suite, an album that paired Herbie Mann and Frank Wess. The duo would record only three times together, and this was their first summit. If you dig jazz flute, you'll find the results smart and sweet. Joining Wess and Mann on the date were Joe Wilder (trumpet), Frank Rehak (trombone), Hank Jones (piano), Wendell Marshall (bass) and Bobby Donaldson (drums).

Salim is one of the forgotten arranger-composer greats of the 1950s. Only Salim and Chico O'Farrill could write convincingly and artfully in both the jazz and Latin idioms. But on Flute Suite, we hear Salim the breezy small-group jazz writer, especially on pearls such as Pretty Baby and Lopin'. Wess and Mann never sounded so good.

JazzWax tracks: Flute Suite can be found on a tremendous two-CD set called The Modern Sounds of A.K. Salim: The Complete Savoy Recordings 1957-1958. This prized two-CD set features Flute Suite, Stablemates, Jazz Is Busting Out All Over, Pretty for the People and Blues Suite. The Salim compilation is out of print (I've seen copies going for as high as $61). But yesterday I found a listing for new copies here for $18.

If you want to hear what made Salim special as a jazz big-band arranger, download from iTunes Boot 'em Up, Bluesitis and Swinging Home from Illinois Jacquet's Flying Home: Best of the Verve Years, Dizzy's Blues from Dizzy Gillespie's Birk's Works: The Verve Big-Band Sessions and Blee Blop Blues from Count Basie: Bluebird's Best.

On the Latin side, you can download Machito's Kenya, Woody Herman's Herman's Heat and Tito's Beat!, and Tito Puente's Tito Goes Jazz.

The other two albums on which Wess and Mann appeared together were Billy Taylor With Four Flutes (1959), which is available at Amazon, and String Along With Basie: Count Basie with Strings (1960), a Roulette album that's out of print.

JazzWax Mindblowers (Vol. 4)

With just days to go until year-end, it's time once again for my roundup of favorite quotes from JazzWax interviews over the last three months. If you're looking for the other volumes in this series, simply go to the search engine atop the right-hand column and type in the word "Mindblowers."

I created this quarterly feature for readers who missed the original JazzWax interviews and for those who simply want a recap all in one place. Here, then, are 25 mindblowing moments from my recent interviews with Johnny Mandel, Bill Holman, Bud Shank, Creed Taylor, Danny Bank, Ronnell Bright, Loren Schoenberg, Benny Powell and Art D'Lugoff:

Arranger Johnny Mandel on Frank Sinatra: "The only rough word I ever heard from Frank came when I called and asked him if he wanted me to treat the [Ring-a-Ding-Ding] project like a Billy May or Nelson Riddle date. He said [imitating Frank's voice], 'If I wanted them, I’d of called 'em.' I told myself, 'OK, schmuck, shut up.'

Johnny Mandel [pictured] on Johnny Mercer's reluctance to write the lyrics to Mandel's Shadow of Your Smile: "Years later, in a bar, Hoagy said to Johnny [Mercer], 'You had just written Emily with Johnny Mandel with great success. Why didn't you also write The Shadow of Your Smile with him?' Johnny told Hoagy that he feared Hoagy would think the song was too similar to Hoagy's New Orleans. Hoagy paused and said, 'I never even noticed.' After that, every time Johnny Mercer and I would meet, he'd hit himself on the head with his open palm and say, 'I turned that song down, what a dummy.' "

Johnny Mandel on I Want to Live, his first movie score: "Andre Previn recommended me for the picture in 1958. Andre couldn’t do it because he had just taken on Porgy and Bess, a record project."

Johnny Mandel on why a jazz score was used for I Want to Live: "I didn't know this at the time but Susan Hayward, the film's star, was a huge Gerry Mulligan fan. [Director] Robert [Wise] and Susan wanted to get him in the film. Gerry was very big at the time."

Bud Shank on appearing in and recording the soundtrack for I Want to Live: "I still shudder at the thought of that film. All of the source music for I Want to Live was performed on the stage next to the one constructed for the death scene! But, of course, performing Johnny's music was never anything but joy."

Johnny Mandel on Buddy Rich: "In 1946, Buddy was still thinking in terms of swing. He liked Benny Goodman’s sound. When I’d play bop in Buddy's band, Buddy would pound me on the chest with his finger and say, 'I hate bebop, I hate Charlie Parker.' "

Johnny Mandel on growing up in New York: "I spent a couple of years going to P.S. 9 on 82d St. and West End Ave. One day my mother dropped me off at school. It was Election Day of 1932, the day Roosevelt was elected president. She didn’t realize there wasn’t school that day. I started wandering around, and they found me conducting traffic on West End Ave. I was seven years old."

Arranger and saxophonist Bill Holman on trumpeter Conte Candoli: "Count had a pretty dry sense of humor. He was very sincere and felt very deeply about music. I remember one night we were playing at this club, and someone walked out making a gesture like he was holding his nose. Conte handed his horn to me and took off after the guy, and made him apologize. [laughs] His attitude was, 'You don’t mess with my band.' "

Producer Creed Taylor on Wes Montgomery: "I took a copy of the Little Anthony 45-rpm [of Goin' Out of My Head] down to play for him. Wes listened to it and said, 'Creed, you must be going out of your head. I can’t do that kind of stuff.' I told Wes, 'Listen to the chord changes and the melody, and you’ll find there’s something there that’s going to be very useful for you in a recording studio.' I also told Wes that Oliver Nelson was arranging and that he already had the chart in his head. 'Forget the vocal and performance,' I told Wes. 'Listen to the changes.' That was the only time I had to talk to Wes in a somewhat uncomfortable situation."

Creed Taylor on helping Wes Montgomery: "Bumpin’ in March 1965 was arranged by Don Sebesky. I remember we had a little trouble there. One of the tracks with strings had a tricky turning point, and Wes couldn’t read music. It got Wes down. He was sitting there looking depressed. Don went over and asked him what was wrong. Wes said, 'All these cats are sitting around with music on their stands. I don’t know what to do.' So I stopped the date. From that point on, Don made a guide track using a Fender Rhodes electric piano for Wes. Don would record it onto a tape. Then he’d give the tape to Wes, who would take it and rehearse on the road. Using the recording, Wes would get the songs down pat. He’d nail all the turnarounds and everything else."

Creed on turning the Mondo Cane theme into a hit in 1963: "I pulled all the popular records of More I could find. All had been recorded as ballads. To hear how the melody would sound at a faster clip, I took a 45-rpm of one of the ballads and doubled the speed to 78 rpm. The melody line sounded great fast. I told Claus [Ogerman] what I wanted to do. I said, 'Let's have a theremin play the strong melody line.' He loved the idea. Up to that point, none of the More ballads had been hits."

Creed Taylor on the cover of Cal Tjader's Hot Sauce: "I had the art director put a bottle of Tabasco on there, and the album took off at the stores. McIlhenny, the maker of the sauce, sued Verve to take the bottle off. To settle, I told them we’d take it off in the next printing. Of course, it never happened. The company was selling a ton of hot sauce by then and quickly forgot about it."

Creed Taylor on Bill Evans Plays the VIPs Theme: "I wasn’t crazy about doing the V.I.P.s album, but MGM wanted to get the songs out to promote the movies. My hands were somewhat tied."

Creed Taylor on how he began recording jazz bossa nova albums: "In 1961 I got a call from guitarist Charlie Byrd. He wanted to play some records for me over the phone. Charlie said the music was new, from Brazil. He knew I liked Latin stuff. As soon as I finished listening to the songs Charlie played through the phone, I called Stan and told him about what I had heard. Then I had Charlie play the music over the phone for Stan. I told Stan he should record a Brazilian music album with Charlie. So Stan and I flew down to Washington, D.C., in February 1962 and we did it. The result was Jazz Samba."

Creed Taylor [pictured] on jazz's influence on the bossa nova: "Stan played the first song, Desafinado. I said, 'Wow, what a weird sounding thing.' As I was listening, I started to realize that the song had a flatted 5th, which is what Dizzy Gillespie had come up with in his song Bebop. In the months that followed, I spoke to Antonio Carlos Jobim, Desafinado's composer, about that flatted 5th. He told me about all the American jazz artists he had listened to in Rio. Of course, the title of Desafinado translated means 'slightly out of tune.' He had used the flatted 5th in Desafinado, and I found that intriguing."

Creed Taylor on the recording of Getz/Gilberto: "Joao [Gilberto] wasn't at the recording session when everyone arrived. So I sent Monica Getz, Stan's wife, over to Joao’s hotel room. She said she found him sitting in the dark playing the guitar. I think he was agoraphobic. Anyway, she got him downstairs, put him in a cab and drove three blocks to the studio. When he arrived, he just took out his guitar and started playing."

Baritone saxophonist Danny Bank on Benny Goodman in the mid-1940s: "Benny liked to rehearse a lot. Not while we were on the road but in New York. He’d call rehearsals for very early in the morning, 7 am usually, and hold them on Carnegie Hall's stage. He liked the way the band sounded there. He had had success there in 1938, of course, and the acoustics were fantastic."

Danny Bank on Benny Goodman's habit of constantly hiring and firing musicians: "Benny was a pain. In those days he hired and fired as soon as he had a great band. He was obsessed with trying to recreate his original band with Harry James and Ziggy Elman. So he’d fire and hire someone else, always tinkering, always trying to improve the band to his liking."

Jazz writer and musician Loren Schoenberg on how Hank Jones coped with Benny Goodman's temperament: "The Hank Jones way involved a hat. When Benny would make a face or start some of his shenanigans, Hank would reach for a hat that he kept on the piano. Benny would see it and cool down."

Pianist Ronnell Bright [pictured] on accompanying Sarah Vaughan in 1958: Sarah was constantly playing tricks on that tour. One time we were about to go on in San Remo, Italy. As I mentioned, I would be the first to walk on stage. As I'd pass by Sarah in the wings, she'd typically hand me a list of songs in the order she wanted to sing them. But on this night in Italy, as I passed her, she let the list drop to the floor on purpose to see if I’d bend down to get it. I didn't. That night we played what I wanted, and Sarah had to follow. [laughing] That was the last time Sass did that."

Trombonist Benny Powell [pictured] on Count Basie: "We wouldn't even add a new chart [to the band's book] unless it had some kind of emotional impact. You have to remember that the band seldom rehearsed, except when we had new material. When that happened, Basie would sit in the audience, just listening, to see whether [the song] had the right kick."

Benny Powell, when asked if the Basie-band solos behind Frank Sinatra were improvised: "No. Quincy had written everything out in terms of who would play behind Frank, when they’d play and what notes they’d play. It wasn’t a loose affair. Frank decided who would play behind him."

Saxophonist Hal McKusick on Neal Hefti and Lil Darlin': "When I asked Neal [pictured] about the song, he said he originally wrote Lil' Darlin' as a medium-uptempo tune. But after Basie ran it down the first time, he asked Neal if the band could try it really slow. Basie said, 'I'm hearing something.' Neal said sure. He knew Basie's instincts were always spot on. Basie said, 'Let me beat it off.' He proceeded to count off Lil' Darlin' at the much slower pace. After it was over, Neal said all he could do was smile and say to Basie, 'You did it.' "

Village Gate owner Art D'Lugoff on Charles Mingus: At around 2 am one night, Charlie [pictured] came into my office at the Village Gate and woke me up. He wanted to apologize. He said, 'Oh, Art, I'm so sorry I threw all those ashtrays at people in the audience.' He said he was flinging them at people who were too noisy. He was as polite as can be when he was telling me this. I said, 'Charles, don't worry about it. I can understand your feelings.' He said, 'Thanks so much, Art,' and quietly left. I always loved booking him."

Art D'Lugoff on jazz: "What you have to remember about all of these jazz musicians is they were very creative people. They were eccentric because they were enormously gifted. They didn't live by everyone else's rules. If they did, they wouldn't have become jazz musicians. They would have been something else."

Sunday Wax Bits

Bill Evans on DVD. It took me four views to finally understand why Bill Evans: Live '64-'75, the new DVD from Jazz Icons, is so important. During my first two previews, I had written off the video as too dull and plodding to recommend. Then last night I realized what I was doing wrong. I was watching it.

Before I go further, let me first say that this DVD, like all of the videos in the Jazz Icons series, was exquisitely shot and restored. You can't believe how polished and vivid the resolution is and how strong the contrasts and angles are. The problem for me, in general, is that most DVDs of jazz concerts and club dates simply aren't that interesting to watch. If you were actually there, you were in the moment. On video, most live jazz seems much less exciting.

Why? I think by watching jazz performances on video, a good part of your audio perception is distracted by the visual, which childishly insists on more and more action and entertainment. In the process, your visual essentially robs that part of your brain that listens deeply and critically. It's like making too many demands on a power source. The lights dim a little.

Then last night, I viewed the Bill Evans DVD again—but this time on my computer. While viewing, I found I had to take care of some writing. So I started to work, with the visual eclipsed by my Word document. That's when I realized I was listening much more intently to the music of Bill Evans in Sweden (1964), France (1965), Denmark (1970), Sweden (1970) and Denmark (1975). As I worked, I took mini breaks to peek behind my Word document for a few seconds to view different sections of the DVD. And I was always blown away.

That's when I realized how great and significant a DVD this is. The music is beyond superb. Evans takes many of the songs in completely different directions. His 'Round Midnight from the Sweden (1970) chapter may be his most astonishing version of the song. I was blown away. I'll also say that his Sleepin' Bee and You're Gonna Hear From Me are close behind as monumental renditions. And the footage is quite revealing—in nibbles. 

And perhaps this is the way all DVDs of jazz performances should be viewed: On your computer, so you can listen hard while doing something else, checking in every so often to see what the artists are up to. Blame it on television. Your brain has been trained to want two guys crashing through a window wrestling for a knife. But listen to a DVD, and it's a whole new bag. I'm going to be listening to this Bill Evans DVD over and over again. Hearing is believing!

Bill Evans: Live '64-'75 is available here for $15. Also, here's a promo for the DVD to give you a taste:

Thelonious Monk. After my post late last week on Thelonious Alone in San Francisco, reader Nick Rossi added more interesting details:

"Fugazi Hall [pictured], where the album was recorded, still stands. It's one of the biggest tourist attractions in the San Francisco. It started off in 1912 as an Italian social club, donated to the then predominantly Italian neighborhood community by John Fugazi founder of the Transamerica Company. There were a few jazz and poetry events held there in the 1950s, and Riverside recorded a few sessions there.

"William Claxton used to tell a great story about photographing Monk for the cover of the Alone LP. I saw him recount it in person once, but it also was summarized by London's The Independent in 2005:

"Photographing Thelonious Monk in San Francisco for an album cover, [William] Claxton had to rouse the pianist from his bed at 3 pm. 'The producer wanted a picture of Thelonious on one of the cable-cars,' says Claxton. Monk groaned when he heard the idea, so the photographer suggested they go for a drink. 'I saw a sign saying champagne cocktails, and asked if he'd had one. 'What's a champagne cocktail?' he replied. But after a couple of those we had a great rapport. That's why he's smiling." [Photo by William Claxton]

Bill Evans surprise. Jan Stevens, host of the Bill Evans Web Pages, sent along an email yesterday letting me know that he posted a holiday clip featuring the famed pianist in rare form. Jan begged me to keep the song title and its novelty a surprise. So if you want to hear it, you'll have to go here and scroll down a tad.

Larry Kart. On December 15, at precisely 2:04 pm, I dropped in on Larry Kart by email, asking the jazz author and critic what he was listening to. At 2:34 pm, here's what Larry emailed back:

Conte Candoli—Quintet with Bill Holman (Definitive). You wrote up this album recently.

Fats Waller—The Definitive Fats Waller (Stash). Released in the early '90s, this is a collection of solo and group things, mostly programs that Waller did for radio stations (transcriptions for later broadcast). Which meant Fats had a block of time, say 15 minutes or so, for each shot. This allowed him to fill as he wished, which seems to have made a positive difference. Typically superb notes by Dan Morgenstern.

Jackie McLean—The Complete Jubilee Sessions. I didn't even know that an October 1955 Jubilee session existed, which is a good as any Jackie I know of from this early period—and better than most. First recording of Little Melonae, and there's a fine piece by Mal Waldron, Mood Melody. Wonder how this came to be on Jubilee because it was recorded by Rudy Van Gelder and has the relaxed but rehearsed feel of a typical Blue Note date rather than a Prestige one.

Ehud Asherie—Swing Set (Positone). The pianist here is with bass and drums.

Ruby Braff—For the Last Time (Arbors). Ruby's final concert performance from August 2007. I was fearful, but though Ruby obviously is not in great shape physically, I prefer what I've heard here to most of his latter-day studio dates.

Hal McKusick. When he's not teaching and playing and writing and practicing, saxophone legend Hal McKusick is wood-shedding—literally. Behind Hal's historic home is a shingle-style structure that he converted into a wood shop. There, he whittles and saws and carves and polishes raw wood, turning it into magnificent pieces of furniture. I visited this space last year and was amazed by Hall's set up and self-taught skill set. On Friday, in the midst of the New York blizzard, Hal sent along a couple of photos from an article published a few weeks ago on his shaving shed. Watch those hands, Hal! [Photos by Dawn Watson]

Stan Kenton. Reader Gary Stewart sent along an email after reading my interview with Chris Connor and her Stan Kenton days:

"My father, Art Stewart, played the drums for Stan Kenton when the bandleader was at the Gaslight Square in St Louis in the 40’s and early 50’s. My dad wasn't a regular touring drummer for Kenton. Instead, when Kenton came to town, he would contact the local musicians union hall to see who was available as an extra. Since drummers were the hardest working member of any big band, they tired easily and needed a break.

"So when that took place in St. Louis, my dad [pictured, left] would fill in on drums. He did this a lot for touring big band groups that came to St. Louis. In the late 70’s, Kenton performed at one of the nearby dinner theaters, and I took my dad there for his 50th birthday. Of course, Stan was very old and all the musicians were college students who were just starting out. But the band was fantastic to say the least.

"Well, during the intermission, my dad went up to Kenton and asked him if he remembered him. Without a second's hesitation, Stan said, “Art Stewart, Gaslight Square!” Believe me that not only made my dad's evening, but it also made my dad's life that a legend like Stan Kenton would remember him.

Teddy Charles. Following my conversation last week with Teddy Charles on his year in California in 1953, David Brent Johnson, host of WFIU's Night Lights show, dropped a line to let me know that he posted a show he did on Teddy a couple of years ago. Go here to listen.

Also, reader Noal Cohen wrote to say that Teddy's discography and an article Noal wrote about the vibraphonist in 2000 are available here.

Life Goes to a Blog. Michael Steinman, host of JazzLives, had a terrific post this week (December 16) on Google making Life magazine's photo archive available through its search engine (click on the "images" tab at Google and scroll down a little). Michael went on to post about a fabulously warm and vivid color photo series he found of a famed 1940s jam session.

Frankie Laine. To clarify the credits on the Frankie Laine album I cited toward the end of my post on the singer last week, three different arrangers were used for the Rockin' LP:

Rockin' Chair was arranged by Russ Case. That's My Desire, West End Blues and Give Me a Kiss were by Paul Weston. All of the album's other arrangements were by Billy May.

Richard Sudhalter service. A memorial and concert for the late writer and jazz cornetist Dick Sudhalter will be held in New York on January 12, from 7 to 10 pm at St. Peter's Lutheran Church, at 619 Lexington Ave. The concert is being organized by Dan Levinson and Dorothy Kellogg with Judy Kahn as stage manager. Performances are expected by Carol Sudhalter, Bill Kirchner, Loren Schoenberg's big band, Daryl Sherman, Dick Katz, Ronny Whyte, Bob Dorough, Marian McPartland, Bill Crow and others. Brief talks will be offered by Dan Morgenstern, Terry Teachout and Albert Haim of BixBeiderbecke.com.

Thelonious Alone in San Francisco

I spent yesterday listening to one of my favorite Thelonious Monk albums. Recorded over two days in October of 1959 for Riverside, Thelonious Alone in San Francisco marked Monk's last studio date for Riverside before he joined Columbia Records. It also was his second solo album for the label, the first being Thelonious Himself in 1957. As with any great album, there's a back-story.

According to Orrin Keepnews' original liner notes, he and Monk happened to be in San Francisco at the same time and agreed to record. Orrin writes, "The session took place in a long empty meeting hall—acoustically quite good, but rather bizarre looking, with Monk sitting onstage with banks of ancient, ornate chandeliers for background."

Orrin continues:

"In a strange city—when photographer Bill Claxton [pictured] drove [Monk] to various landmarks (including the cable-car setting of the cover photo) during a break in the session, it was Monk's first real view of San Francisco. And although personal matters generally don't belong in liner notes, it might also be relevant that Thelonious had just had to leave his wife behind in Los Angeles, recuperating from major surgery, and that the first recording session came the afternoon after the opening night of his engagement at the Black Hawk—when, due to varied confusions not of his making, Thelonious had been the only member of his quartet on hand for the first two sets."

Actually, there's a little more to the story, details that Orrin couldn't use in the liner notes. At the time, Monk was without a New York cabaret license, compelling him to travel outside of the city to earn a living. According to Leslie Gourse's biography of Monk, Straight No Chaser:

"In October 1959, while traveling from a gig in Chicago to one in San Francisco, Nellie [Monk's wife] became sick on an airplane. They were planning to make a stopover to visit Nellie's cousin in Los Angeles because they had a week's vacation before engagements. By the time she arrived at her cousin's house, she had to be rushed to the hospital for emergency surgery for an obstruction in her lower intestine. Nellie began to believe that with all her illnesses, that she would die before Thelonious." [Pictured, from left: Monk, Nellie and John Coltrane]

According to Nellie, as quoted in Gourse's book:

"That's how the album Thelonious Alone in San Francisco got its name. He had to go to San Francisco alone to make money to pay for the operation. When he had to leave, he said to me, 'Now you make sure you don't kick the bucket, and you're here when I get back, because I don't want to pay for an operation if you're gone.'

"I almost died. [Nearing death], I don't know where I was but I said to myself, Oh I can stay here, it's so beautiful here. Oh no, Thelonious is waiting. I fought my way back. It saved my life when he made that joke."

Thelonious Alone in San Francisco is less impatient than some of Monk's recordings of this period. His playing is a bit more anticipatory and precise in its ferocity. Percussive notes abound, but there's less abstract hammering and more introspection and use of chord clusters, allowing the beauty of his sudden ideas to sink in before you're distracted by high-impact notes.

There are classic Monk originals here, like Blue Monk, Ruby, My Dear and Pannonica (a rather interesting choice given Nellie's condition). And there are slow-motion standards, like Everything Happens to Me and Irving Berlin's Remember. But there also are two originals that had not been recorded previously and never would be again—Round Lights and Bluehawk.

Two tracks on this album are particularly noteworthy. The first is Reflections, originally called Portrait of an Eremite, which here is probably Monk's slowest solo rendition of the song. He had recorded the composition solo in Paris in 1954 for the Vogue label, but on Alone it's a shade slower, allowing Monk to tease out every ounce of coloration and build.

And there are two takes of There's Danger in Your Eyes, Cherie!, a obscure Tin Pan Alley standard from 1930 that Monk had never recorded before nor would attempt again. (Listening to Monk's slowed version, I couldn't help but wonder whether Joe Hamilton was influenced by it when writing I'm So Glad We Had This Time Together, the closing theme to the Carol Burnett Show in 1967.) 

All in all, Thelonious Alone in San Francisco is a special album. Monk's mood clearly is cautious and hampered by worry, the pace is gentle and the standards, established originals and new originals all leave you with a very different set of impressions and ideas.

JazzWax tracks: Thelonious Alone in San Francisco is available at iTunes or on CD here. If you enjoy Reflections as much as I do, you'll find a brilliant mid-tempo version from 1952 produced by Ira Gitler on the recently remastered The Thelonious Monk Trio here. Monk's 1954 solo version is available on a Vogue import here.