JazzWax

Artie Shaw Said It

Tom Nolan's new biography of Artie Shaw, Three Chords for  Beauty's Sake, provides many insights into Shaw's character and bands through the years. Among the book's many high points are Shaw's own unfiltered reflections on musicians, wives and personalities he knew during his long life (Shaw, pictured, died in December 2004 at age 94).

Here's Shaw on drummer Buddy Rich and saxophonist Georgie Auld:

"I didn't like [Buddy], as a guy, at all. I said he had one quality, though, which was exuberance; he was full of that. It bubbled! That's what came out in his playing. Later [at Buddy's funeral in 1987], I'm talking to Mel Brooks, outside the funeral home. And Georgie Auld—he turned out to be a fucking gangster, horrible guy—he comes up: 'You're fulla shit. You're fulla shit.' 'Wadya mean, George? Wadya talkin' about?' I said, 'Is that your considered opinion? Is there anything you want to add to that?'

"George [pictured] was disappointed he wasn't called on to speak [at Buddy's funeral], and he was very angry. 'You're fulla shit.' That's all he could say! Chagrin! What—I dunno, he identified himself with me, and he never could quite make it, as a star, you know, whatever it was. Angered him. Infuriated him. When I quit the music, man [in 1939], I gave him the band; I gave him my book. He could not make it work. He didn't have the quality that it took. Certain people don't."

Much more in Tom Nolan's Three Chords for Beauty's Sake here.

Sunday Wax Bits

Waxing & musings. A jazz friend was in town last week, and at dinner we got to talking about aging jazz legends. Included in our chat was the late Hank Jones and his small rented room, as described by The New York Times here. That led to the perils these senior artists face who lack supervision and care, and what if anything can or should be done about it.

After running through a range of scenarios, we agreed that nothing realistically can be done. Oh sure,you can urge and insist, but that won't do much good since all seniors go their own way ultimately. We also agreed that most of these musicians prefer to live in surroundings they find comfortable, familiar and routine—no matter what personal quality-of-life issues we project onto theirs. So Hank Jones playing the piano in a small room wearing headphones was completely in character with musicians who reach that age and wasn't nearly as sad, lonely or unseemly as the Times' blog comments from readers indicated.

At age 91, many of Hank's closest musician-friends had died and his wife was in an assisted-living facility. Hence, Hank's last true intimate friend was the keyboard, and his incessant practicing on the instrument wasn't about some crazed What Ever Happened to Baby Jane? scene. It was merely Hank having conversations with himself.

Personally, I found The Times article touching and a fascinating study of how all jazz legends prefer to go out—not drooling or lying on a beach but arguing and laughing with themselves on their instruments. The size of the room and the fact that Hank rented rather than owned was irrelevant. I never heard Hank complain about his life—or anything else for that matter. I don't think anyone else did, either.

Musicians and copyrights. Too often I hear from composer-musicians who aren't sure of the copyright laws or what's possible. Last week I came across this article from LegalZoom, a terrific service I've used with great success in the past. Pass the article along to the composer-musicians you know.

More Hank Jones. JazzWax reader and saxophonist Allen Lowe sent along an interesting story last week following my post on Hank Jones:

"Hank told me the following, maybe in 1976: One day pianist Al Haig came to hear Hank at a New York club where I was sitting. I think it was Beefsteak Charlies on 7th Ave. Hank was was doing a duo with bassist Richard Davis.

"After the set, we all sat down together, and Hank mentioned that in the famous clip of Marilyn Monroe singing Happy Birthday to John F. Kennedy at Madison Square Garden, Hank said he was the pianist accompanying her. He also said that afterward, he rode up up in the elevator with her and her ex-husband, Arthur Miller. She was quite drunk, and Miller was furious and a bit jealous. According to Hank, Miller slapped her."

Jazzfest. What are you doing June 5th? If you're in the New York metropolitan area, dig Jazzfest, which since 1976 has been presented by the New Jersey Jazz Society. There will be performances in New Jersey by Bucky and John Pizzarelli, Frank Vignola’s Hot Club, Cecil Brooks III, Harry Allen’s Four Others band, the George Gee Swing Orchestra, the Aaron Weinstein/Joe Cohn Duo, the Madame Pat Tandy Band, and a special solo piano appearance by the legendary Marty Napoleon. For more information, go here. [Photo of Marty Napoleon by Geri Reichgut]

Marlene VerPlanck. I ran into the lovely singer Marlene VerPlanck last week at the DIVA Jazz Orchestra gig at Dizzy's. Marlene mentioned that next Wednesday, June 2d, she'll be appearing at New York's Kitano Hotel (66 Park Avenue at 38th St.). Marlene will be accompanied by pianist Tomoko Ohno, bassist Steve LaSpina and drummer Rich DeRosa. Sets are at 8 and 10 p.m. For more information, go here.

Radio. Nancy Barell will be playing Hank Jones and Johnny Mandel along with a steady serving of Frank Sinatra on her online radio show, Jazz Spotlight on Sinatra. The show can be accessed anytime on your computer worldwide here (just click the yellow "play" button).

CD discoveries of the week. There are traces of Don Pullen in pianist Roberto Magris' approach, an artistic kinship I didn't identify until Roberto sent along his new CD, Mating Call. Pullen, of course, recorded with Charles Mingus in the early 1970s, most notably on Changes One and Changes Two.

Roberto bears a similar intensity and all-chips in attack as Pullen—without going overboard. I must say that Roberto's new album is fabulous on every level. The originals here (Optional Man, Hill of Illusions and Europlane Blues) hit you instantly with their lyrical, wave-like sensitivity. The standards are all great choices—Lament, Theme for Ernie, Mating Call and Lonely Town.

Sample the waltz-time Optional Man, Hill of Illusions and Lament and see what I mean. Roberto plays acoustic and electric piano, and is joined by Paul Carr on soprano and tenor saxes, Michael O'Neill on tenor sax, Elisa Pruett on bass and the great Idris Muhammad on drums. (See my interview with Roberto here.)

You'll find Roberto Magris' Mating Call (J-Mood) here.

Back in the 1970s, I was never a big fan of the Mahavishnu Orchestra. Too much jazz-rock mysticism and too many migraine solos. But I must confess, there's something fascinating about Billy Cobham's new CD, Meeting of the Spirits: A Celebration of the Mahavishnu Orchestra. Cobham, of course, was Mahavishnu's founding drummer, and this album covers the band's expansive and experimental material backed by Germany's HR Big Band, which comes off more as a fusion orchestra than a traditional brass ensemble. Which makes this CD all the more interesting. Listening to this album presented me with the oddest sensation: nostalgia for music I never really cared for. Yet it works.

You can sample and buy Billy Cobham's Meeting of the Spirits (In + Out) here.

When I first set eyes on Jeremy Cohen's new CD The Music of Eddie South, I hesitated. South was a highly regarded jazz violinist of the 1930s who performed with Django Reinhardt and led bands that included pianist Billy Taylor and bassist Milt Hinton. My concern was that the CD was going to be a cornball execution by a fiddle-happy moldy fig. Instead, Cohen's playing is as graceful and as strong as can be, and he and his group, Violin Jazz, tease out the essence, heart and swing of South's works. Once I hit "play," I found myself listening all the way through. South's music still has that kind of grip on the ears and soul. Try sampling Rose Room. You'll be hooked, too.

You'll find Violin Jazz's The Music of Eddie South (Dorian) at iTunes or here.

Oddball album cover of the week. This CD compilation of Hank Jones' 1956 recordings with guitarists Barry Galbraith and Kenny Burrell  was issued in 2005 on Spain's Gambit label. As you can see, it may well be the single worst cover I've featured in this space. One can only assume that the designer who chose the photo had never been to New York let along the U.S. and simply assumed this "urban" scene would be fitting. Or could the photo have been staged in Spain in a garage to simulate New York's streets? Either way, this one lacks an iota of imagination or perspective, and belongs in the cover's cans.

Art Pepper: Stuttgart, May 25, 1981

In May 1981, Art Pepper and his wife Laurie along with pianist Milcho Leviev, bassist Bob Magnusson and drummer Carl Burnett left for Europe. For the entire month, the alto saxophonist and his trio were on the road playing 18 concerts across the continent. In recent years, Laurie has released several recordings of Art in action on her Widow's Taste label, including Art Pepper: The Croydon Concert, a U.K. event that was recorded during the May 1981 tour (see review here). 

Now Laurie has released a fifth volume of Pepper's previously unissued work, and it's a mind-blowing powerhouse example of Pepper in superb form. The album, Stuttgart May 25, 1981 is a double CD set that features Pepper in Germany in an almost trance state, roaring out stellar versions of For Freddie, Straight Life, Yours Is My Heart Alone, Over the Rainbow and others. The recording's sound is vivid and clear to the ear, and the heat the group throws off is coherent and spring-loaded. To me, Stuttgart is Pepper's finest live work from this period and Laurie's best CD set to date.

Yesterday, I called Laurie to chat about Art Pepper and the new album:

JazzWax: How far into the tour was the concert held in Stuttgart, Germany?
Laurie Pepper: This stop was right near the end. The tour of Europe lasted from May 8th to the 29th and was very intense. We were in a different city nearly every day or traveling to one, mostly by bus. Art and the group played a two-hour concert at each stop with one intermission. We only had a day or two of real downtime. It was very hard physically on Art given his health problems.

JW: What were Art’s health problems?
LP: He had this really monstrous hiatal hernia. His belly would bulge out, so he had to wear a corset when he played to keep everything in.

JW: Did he get the hernia on the road?
LP: It happened to him while he was attempting a comeback with Buddy Rich in the late 1960s.

JW: What was the cause?
LP: We figured the hernia had to have been caused by one or more factors. We suspected it was a result of his girlfriend at the time constantly sucker punching him in the stomach.

JW: Why did she do that?
LP: Art met her when he came out of prison for the last time in the mid-1960s. They both drank enormous amounts. She would never tell him she was angry with him. She’d just go over to him and then submarine him in the gut. Then she’d tell him why.

JW: What were some of the reasons?
LP: Accusations of infidelity, which was ridiculous, since Art was a pathologically faithful mate. She was just a paranoid woman, and they were drunk all of the time. He was only with her for a few years.

JW: Was there another possible reason for his stomach problems?
LP: We weren’t sure whether it was all the hitting and  drinking or if it was an ailment he and I discovered while watching an episode of Marcus Welby, M.D. on TV.

JW: What was the ailment?
LP: Thalassemia, which is similar to sickle cell anemia and tends to affect people of Italian origin. Art had the minor version, which meant he could survive. But it also meant his spleen was constantly in danger of rupturing, and drinking certainly didn’t help.

JW: Was there anything else?
LP: He also had the usual kinds of digestive problems. And he was on methadone maintenance.

JW: Did he ever seek treatment for the hernia?
LP: No, he never sought treatment for anything. He never went to the doctor in his early life. He didn’t want to think about anything that might be wrong with him, health-wise.

JW: How did he manage to play as hard and as beautifully as he did in May 1981 on so little rest—and for such long stretches in performance at each stop of the tour?
LP: For Art, there was nothing like being up on that stage. He lived for it. He was spectacular on tour and he always delivered, no matter what.

JW: Where did the Stuttgart tapes come from?
LP: A guy from Europe got in touch with me. Fans from all over the world send me recordings of Art's gigs. Apparently, Europe during this period was rife with people recording concerts and club performances. In some cases, the very guys who were miking the events or engineering recorded him without his knowledge. Those recordings are usually superb. My contact also sent me a long list of illegitimate Art Pepper recordings, sort of discography from the dark side.

JW: The Stuttgart concert sounds remarkably excellent.
LP: A friend listened to it on headphones and believes  that a few different sources may have been used. But the average ear can't really hear the divisions. We can thank Wayne Peet [of Newzone Studios in Los Angeles] for the remastering. Wayne is also a musician and has incredible ears. He does beautiful work.

JW: You were on tour with the band. Do you remember the Stuttgart concert?
LP: No. Nobody remembers it in any detail. I spoke to Carl Burnett recently and he doesn’t remember it either. You have to remember, this was one stop out of 18 from 29 years ago. Everything blends together. For us, it was just another day at the office, another stop.

JW: Where was Art’s head during this tour?
LP: Focused. I loved being on the road with Art. He wasn’t doing anything else but playing. He didn’t have the time or the energy to be bad. Each concert was so important for him.

JW: What’s coming next?
LP: I'm working on a couple of projects. The next release likely will be a concert from the Konigsberg Festival in Norway recorded on June 30, 1980. It was a special date. We had just flown from London, and with the summer light, it never really got dark. When we arrived in Norway from England, we had a cup of coffee and Art went right on stage and played magically. What they call the "midnight sun" was amazing.

JW: And after the Norway project?
LP: Then I will likely issue a very large volume of material recorded at Ronnie Scott’s club in London, also from June 1980. There are three or four nights' worth of material. This will probably be available only as a download given the large volume of recordings. Art loved Ronnie Scott’s, and you can hear that in his playing there.

JazzWax tracks: Art Pepper's Stuttgart May 27, 1981 (Widow's Taste) can be found on CD here or in two-part downloads for $4.95 each here and here. Liner notes are by Laurie Pepper.

JazzWax clip: Here's For Freddie, which will give you a taste of the album's energy and power...

David Allyn and Johnny Mandel

They go back 65 years, all the way back to Boyd Raeburn's band, and last night David Allyn [pictured] and Johnny Mandel were reunited for the first time in years at Dizzy's Club Coca-Cola in New York. David, 90, is a singer's singer and still among the most sensitive big band vocalists in the business. David was in town to see Johnny, 84, lead the DIVA Jazz Orchestra through 10 songs he arranged. In most cases, the songs were Johnny's own blockbuster compositions. The song lineup included The Shadow of Your Smile, Emily, I Want to Live theme, Cinnamon and Clove and Not Really the Blues. [Photos by Marc Myers]

David and Johnny [pictured] joined Raeburn's band in 1945 in San Francisco, with Johnny on trombone and David as the orchestra's male vocalist. Johnny's charts for Raeburn at the time included Eagle Flies and How Deep Is the Ocean. David's hits with Raeburn included Forgetful (which Chet Baker later adapted), Out of This World, There Is No You and If I Loved You, which Johnny arranged.

But perhaps Johnny and David's greatest work together would come in 1957, when Johnny arranged David's A Sure Thing:  David Allyn Sings Jerome Kern, which today remains one of the most remarkable vocalist-with-strings albums ever recorded (see my in-depth interview with David here and Johnny here). It's also extremely rare on LP or CD.

Certainly the funniest moment occurred just after the first set, when someone came up to David, shook his hand and asked if he wanted to meet Johnny Mandel. David looked at me puzzled, shook his head and said, "Kids."

JazzWax clip: I can't get Johnny Mandel's addictive M*A*S*H melody (Suicide Is Painless) out of my head, which the DIVA Jazz Orchestra peformed last night. Now it's going to be in your head for the day here (lyrics by director Robert Altman's son Mike)...

Kenny Clarke & Ernie Wilkins

I purposefully left my favorite Hank Jones record off my top-20 list last Sunday to talk about the album here in full. This record is a rare and rather obscure date from March 1955 for Savoy, when a&r chief Ozzie Cadena was producing some amazing music at the label. You probably would never know about this baby unless someone hipped you to it, so here I am.

This early Savoy LP didn't have an official title. Instead, two musicians' names graced the cover: Kenny Clarke & Ernie Wilkins. The album's notes say that the band was led by saxophonist Ernie Wilkins on four tracks and by drummer Kenny Clarke on three. In truth, Wilkins was the leader throughout. Clearly, this was a split date to get around the American Federation of Musicians' rules about recording only four tracks per session. By claiming there were two different leaders, the studio was able to skirt the union's regulations and complete the record in a single afternoon or evening.

All of the tracks were arranged by Wilkins [pictured], who was just coming into his own, having written extensively for Count Basie and Tommy Dorsey over the previous three years. By 1955, Wilkins' charts had developed a knack for tightly wound swing and swagger, typically resulting in a polished shout chorus at the end. With Wilkins, every arrangement was an aerodynamic adventure, and he never relied on gimmicks or repeated phrases. His originals always sounded modern—the blues retrofitted with an automatic transmission and air conditioning.

The septet on this session includes spirited trombonist Eddie Bert, Ernie Wilkins (alto and tenor saxes), George Barrow (tenor and baritone saxes), Cecil Payne (baritone sax), Hank Jones (piano) [pictured], Wendell Marshall (bass) and Kenny Clarke (drums).

Best of all, you can hear Hank Jones distinctly throughout, at times in a Basie mode and at other times running impeccable accompaniment lines and solos. Teasing out Jones' keyboard choices are Marshall's firm upright bass and Clarke's dice-toss drum figures.

The tracks are Summer Evening, Oz the Wizard, I Dig You the Most, Pru's Bloose, Plenty for Kenny, Cute Tomato and Now's the Time. This album is worth grabbing if only for Cute Tomato, my favorite track, which features a jaunty Wilkins theme line and snappy solos by Eddie Bert [pictured] and Hank Jones.

For me, this is a perfect mid-1950s jazz album of seductive beauty crafted for a small group that thinks it's a big band. Hats off to the late Ozzie Cadena [pictured], a truly unsung jazz catalyst who had an ambitious vision and consistently pretty taste at Savoy. As for Ernie Wilkins, this was just the beginning. 

JazzWax tracks: Kenny Clarke & Ernie Wilkins has been slipped onto the CD release of Fresh Sound's Telefunken Blues, a Savoy recording that featured Clarke and Wilkins a month earlier in 1955. The musicians on the latter date include Frank Wess and Milt Jackson.

In the past, Telefunken Blues has sold for a fortune. But I noticed yesterday that a bunch of new copies of the Fresh Sound release in 2008 (with Kenny Clarke & Ernie Wilkins added) is available from non-Amazon vendors for $15 or less here. Better hurry.

JazzWax List: With Strings

Charlie Parker With Strings and Clifford Brown With Strings are probably the best-known albums by jazz artists backed by a string section. The concept of placing strings behind a jazz soloist became more prevalent after World War II, when pop records began to outsell virtually all other genres of music. As the record business entered the LP era in the late 1940s, the merging of jazz and strings was an attempt by producers to give jazz a sweeter, more legitimate feel for wider acceptance among at-home listeners of pop and classical albums.

Here are 10 lesser-known but equally superb jazz albums with strings:

Benny Carter: Alone Together (1952)—recorded for Verve, this album featured arrangements by Joe Glover.

Dizzy Gillespie: And His Operatic Strings (1952)—recorded live in Paris, arrangements were by Jo Boyer and Daniel White.

Harry Carney: With Strings (1954)—Duke Ellington's powerful baritone saxophone here  waltzes through standards and the Ellington songbook arranged by Ralph Burns for Verve.

Ben Webster: With Strings (1955)—backed by pianist Teddy Wilson, the orchestra here was arranged by Ralph Burns on a session for Verve.

Lennie Niehaus: Quintet and Strings (1955)—Recorded for Contemporary, this album features Niehaus with a trio and quintet framed by a movie studio string quartet.

Bud Shank: I'll Take Romance (1958)—Bud recorded this while in Milan, Italy, featuring the arrangements of "Len Mercer," a pseudonym for Ezio Leoni.

Marshal Royal: Gordon Jenkins Presents (1960)—this date for Everest is a tad syrupy at times, but certainly features one of the definitive versions of Jenkins' own Goodbye.

Stan Getz: Focus (1961)—arranged by Eddie Sauter, this one wasn't conceived as a "mood for strings" date but still retains a long-hair feel.

Sonny Stitt: Sensual Sound (1961)—Ralph Burns' arrangements and Stitt's soaring alto and tenor saxophones result in a perfect jazz strings session for Verve.

Coleman Hawkins: The Hawk and the Hunter (1963)—Hawkins sounded good on anything and with anyone, but he sounds particularly contemplative on this quasi-easy listening date arranged by Frank Hunter and recorded originally for Sesac.

Johnny Mandel's Shadow and Smile

There's something about watching Johnny Mandel rehearse a  big band that takes your breath away. Yesterday I had the rare pleasure of watching Johnny conduct the DIVA Jazz Orchestra in advance of their performances tonight, tomorrow and Wednesday at Dizzy's Club Coca-Cola in New York (go here for information and reservations). [Photo of Johnny Mandel conducting The Shadow of Your Smile by Marc Myers]

This is the same Johnny Mandel who wrote blockbuster arrangements for Artie Shaw, Woody Herman, Chet Baker, David Allyn and Barbra Streisand and composed and conducted I Want to Live, Emily, the Shadow of Your Smile, The Shining Sea, Theme for MASH and so many other memorable melodies. He's also the same Johnny Mandel who arranged and conducted Frank Sinatra's first Reprise album in 1961, Ring-a-Ding-Ding.

So to see Johnny conduct drummer-leader Sherrie Maricle and the all-female jazz band through his arrangements and compositions was an eye-opening trifecta. Standing behind the third trumpet chair, I could see the parts clearly on the stand, all beautifully written out, all with "JOHNNY MANDEL" printed neatly in all capital letters on the right-hand side of each opening page.

Watching Johnny at work is like witnessing the history of American music. His jazz, pop and film works capture not only the spirit but the moods of generations. At 84 years old, Johnny looks like a kid, his ruddy face toasted by the West Coast and his calm, cool, relaxed demeanor polished by years of working with the biggest and roughest talents in the music business. 

Interestingly, Johnny's conducting style isn't about big sweeping gestures or thrusts. His hands lead in small, subtle movements, catching each beat sharply, fingers unconsciously splayed at times, tight bound together at others to make a point. His hands seem almost like doves in a cage that keep trying to fly free only to return to their perch to try again. Johnny's heart clearly is in his hands, and those hands hold enormous sensitivity. No song demonstrated all of this better than The Shadow of Your Smile, which swept away even its composer and arranger.

Artie Shaw was born on May 23, 1910, so yesterday marked the clarinetist's centennial. I couldn't help but think of Artie when Johnny called for Krazy Kat, a rip-roaring arrangement Johnny wrote for Shaw's bebop band in 1949. ("The best band Artie ever had," Johnny would say later.) As Johnny counted off the beat, I wondered whether he knew that it was Artie's 100th birthday.

"And two and three and four..." Johnny said, clapping his hands lightly to set the tempo. Then the band kicked into the intro, which has all the horse muscle and energy of gates flying opening at the Kentucky Derby. Johnny cracked a small smile, realizing how well the song has held up over the past 50 years, especially in this band's hands.

As the band's reed and brass sections tore through the three- minute-plus swinger, fish-tailing into the shout chorus at the end, I couldn't help but think that somewhere, someplace, Shaw was shooting Johnny, Stacie and the band a big wink.

I can't wait for tonight.

Sunday Wax Bits

Hank Jones (1918-2010), a pianist with unsurpassed melodic style and harmonic taste who appeared on more than 1,000 recordings starting in 1944 and is one of the last living threads running through all of post-war jazz, died of cancer on May 16th in New York. He was 91. [Photo of Hank Jones by Hank O'Neal]

Though Jones was most often found as an accompanist on records featuring saxophonists and trumpeters, jazz fans frequently bought the albums based solely on his name appearing in the credits. The assumption was that if Hank was on the date, it had to feature superb chord voicings and solos by the pianist.

Yet despite Jones' enormous talent and industry-wide respect, he was never a showboat, self-centered or a tempestuous hothead. Always the gentleman, Jones prided himself on his technique, grace and adaptability to different artists.

Last week, during a phone conversation with Nat Hentoff, I  asked the writer and author of At the Jazz Band Ball about Jones and why he elicits such a favorable reaction in listeners:

"We're responding to Hank's serenity," Nat said. "No matter what the tempo or the mood, Hank's serenity always dominates. This guy knew who he was, and he kept working to find out more. I once told Hank what I liked most about his music was that it always sounded new. Hank replied, 'Every night I try again.' For Hank, the music was always new. There was always a horizon he hadn't reached yet."

Pianist John Bunch and Hank had a thing going. John always made a point of telling me he was the oldest living jazz pianist—"not including Hank Jones"—and that he and Hank were having a race to see who could outlive the other. When I told Hank this last year, he roared with laughter. John and Hank were close friends, both having worked with Benny Goodman in the 1960s. Now both John and Hank are gone—and within about two months of each other. It's impossible for me to forget the gorgeous touch both pianists had on the keyboard.

Here are my 20 favorite Hank Jones recordings:

• Urbanity (1947)
• Bluebird (1955)
• Tonight's Music Today—Zoot Sims/Bob Brookmeyer (1956)
• Rhythm Was His Business—George Williams (1956)
• Dream of You—Helen Merrill (1956)
• Jazz Greats of Our Time—Manny Albam (1957)
• Wide Range—Johnny Richards (1957)
• Flute Suite—A.K. Salim (1957)
• Bass on Top—Paul Chambers (1957)
• Sonny Stitt with the New Yorkers (1957)
• Let's Face the Music and Dance—Urbie Green (1957)
• The Talented Touch (1958)
• Something Else—Cannonball Adderley (1958)
• Gene Krupa Plays Gerry Mulligan (1958)
• Jazz From Peter Gunn—Joe Wilder (1959)
• Portrait of Duke Ellington—Dizzy Gillespie (1960)
  
• So Much Guitar—Wes Montgomery (1961)
• One More: The Music of Thad Jones (2004)
• For My Father (2004)
  
• Our Delight with James Moody (2006)

Here's bassist Bob Cranshaw on Hank Jones, courtesy of jazz video documentarian Bret Primack...

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Dave Pell. Tenor saxophonist Dave Pell sent along a lovely email following my post last Sunday about his band, featuring tenor saxophonist Chloe Feoranzo: 

"Thanks for the mention of our little happening the other night with our new star Chloe Feoranzo. She was an absolute gas to play with, as you can imagine. With Med Flory getting his Charlie Parker chops going and Lester Young's sound being handled by Chloe and me. We also had trumpeter Carl Saunders playing with us.

"I have to tell you, there was a chemistry happening that I haven't experienced in years. There was something going on that I have been trying to recapture in bebop and West Coast jazz. With the most interesting bass player, Richard Simon and drummer Frank Capp catching everything we did, the night was totally entertaining and fun. I just wish I could pay the band by the note!"

Jazz wives. Following my Wall Street Journal article here and post about jazz widows here, reader Marc Andren sent along the following email:

"Great Wall Street Journal article, and I like your blog, too. All too often we read about jazz musicians like Art Pepper who climbed behind the wheel of a car under the influence and wound up in terrible accidents, often injuring others in the process.

"And too often the poor people who were hit by these drivers have been swept under the rug and forgotten as just another footnote. I know this firsthand, as I have been on the receiving end of these types of crashes and continue to suffer in pain 24/7 as a result.

"While I am a jazz addict now, and even love Art Pepper's work, I don’t respect the self-destructive person who seemed to care little about the victims he injured along the way."

Hank O'Neal. Photographer and Chiaroscuro Records owner- producer Hank O'Neal has started a wonderful daily blog. It features Hank's rich photos of jazz musicians and the stories behind them. The site has great authority and an insider's feel. Recent post subjects include Hank Jones, Dizzy Gillespie, James Moody and Earl Hines. Go here. [Photo by Ian Clifford]

Doug Payne. CTI discographer and producer Doug Payne has started Sound Insights, a terrific blog on soul, r&b and disco. As readers know, I'm partial to all three. Doug writes with authority and passion. Go here.

Artie Shaw. David Brent Johnson has posted his latest WFIU Night Lights show, this time on Artie Shaw's 1949-1954 period, which includes his bop band and last Gramercy Five with Hank Jones on piano. Go here to listen to the Artie Shaw tribute.

CD discovery of the week: Tenor saxophonist Bob Mintzer's new CD Canyon Cove is one of my favorite albums of the year. This album swings with enormous taste and creates a joyous groove that is sustained throughout. Bob's sound on is commanding without being overpowering. There's a gentle intensity about Bob's playing that's engaging and intoxicating. Every powdery note is meaningful and every arrangement on his new album is mindful of the listener.

On Canyon Cove, Bob plays tenor, bass clarinet and flute—in places, overdubbing himself in the most delicate ways. Bob is joined by organist Larry Goldings, who brings a Larry Young-Jimmy McGriff flavor to this date, and drummer Peter Erskine, who skillfully keeps Bob and Larry on the mark. In fact, if this album has a long lost relative, it would be Into Somethin', featuring organist Larry Young and saxophonist Sam Rivers.

Bob, of course, played with the Yellowjackets as well as in Buddy Rich's big band. He also has appeared with Mel Lewis & the Jazz Orchestra, the New York Saxophone Quartet and on Nancy Wilson's Nancy Now!

Recorded for Japan's Cheetah label, Canyon Cove costs upward of $45 as an import. But Bob tells me he's making copies available at his site for half that amount here. You'll also find videoclips there of tracks from the album. Scroll down at Bob's site and dig the clip of Thaddeus. If that doesn't knock you out, nothing will.

Oddball album cover of the week. I have no idea which label released this album or the tracks that were included. But clearly neither mattered much to the marketers of this record. The inside joke here is the chalkboard's "sic vos non vobis"—Latin for "thus do ye, but not for yourselves." Long story short, the phrase was conceived by Virgil to out a fellow Greek poet who claimed that Virgil's verse was his own. It's one of the jazz lessons. On the chalkboard. Over there. You see the chalkboard, right?

Interview: Buddy Collette (Part 5)

Few events epitomize the disarray jazz was beginning to experience at the start of the 1960s than Charles Mingus’ Town Hall concert of October 12, 1962. During this period, musicians increasingly were wresting control of their recordings away from producers who for years had imposed rigid structure on sessions. Mingus, for all of his creative vision and genius, could be volatile, mercurial and a royal pain in the neck. But he was widely regarded by most musicians of the period, including Buddy Collette, as one of the most inventive, exciting and artistically honest composers and political activists of his generation.

In 1962, Mingus was hired by United Artists to perform at New York’s Town Hall. The label planned to record the concert for an album release, and Mingus set to work preparing with supersized ambitions (he envisioned upward of 45 musicians). Then the already-tight schedule grew even tighter when the original November concert date was pushed up to October. Under enormous stress, Mingus struggled to finish his arrangements in time and badgered friends into helping.

Angry at himself, angry at the musicians helping him, angry at United Artists, and angry at concert promoter George Wein [pictured] (a grudge that had been going on for two years), Mingus became an unstoppable bully in a china shop. Naturally, in this climate, the concert became part protest, part opus. Mingus insisted on stopping and starting the band at will, and the concert ran late. Yet on the recording of the concert, the completed tracks are indisputable works of art.

In Part 5 of my conversation with Buddy, the legendary West Coast reed and woodwind musician talks about Charles Mingus (his childhood friend) and the 1962 Town Hall concert in which he participated:

JazzWax: What did you think of the music Charles Mingus put together for his Town Hall concert in 1962?
Buddy Collettte: It was excellent. The music was so alive and exciting.

JW: Being a busy West Coast musician, how did you wind up in an East Coast concert?
BC: I was very busy in Hollywood, but Mingus liked to have me around if he could. We’d known each other since we were 12 years old. So I got a call from United Artists Records asking me to come to New York. I told them I was busy but the person on the phone called back and said that Mingus said if I didn’t come, there would be no concert. He even called me to tell me that.

JW: Did you have high expectations before you left for New York?
BC: I knew that if Mingus was in the kind of mood he was in on the phone, making threats about the concert, he probably would eventually turn on me, too. But we always got along, so I agreed.

JW: What happened when you arrived in New York?
BC: The first thing I did was go to Mingus’ apartment on Fifth Avenue. When I got there dressed in my topcoat and hat, I saw that the lamp was kicked over and the house was in disarray.

JW: What had happened?
BC: Mingus told me he had hit trombonist Jimmy Knepper in the mouth. Jimmy had been helping Mingus with all of the arrangement. Mingus said, “Jimmy called me a name so I hit him.” Which I doubt was true knowing Jimmy. But when Mingus got wound up, there was nothing you could do to stop that energy short of letting it all come out.

JW: Mingus had been working hard to get ready for the concert.
BC: He did have a ton of pressure to get all this music done for so many people. He told me the band was rehearsing at night after their record dates. Sometimes starting at midnight.  [Pictured: Jimmy Knepper]

JW: What else did you notice at Mingus’ apartment?
BC: He was still uptight when I arrived. He had music all over the floor. He asked me to help him arrange some of the pieces. I wrote a few 12-tone things. As long as the pieces were interesting, he loved it.

JW: When did you rehearse with the band?
BC: The night of the day I arrived. But Mingus wasn’t into what he heard. Jimmy was still being helpful and could play again a little toward the end of the rehearsal. Mingus finally said, “I’m going to cancel this concert.” I knew what that was about.

JW: What?
BC: When Mingus grew angry about something, he would either go through with such a threat or he’d make an event a very undesirable situation.

JW: Did you ask Mingus what was bothering him deep down?
BC: Yes. He said that George Wein was producing the event and that George wanted a traditional concert.

JW: Isn’t that what it was supposed to be?
BC: I said to Mingus, “So what’s wrong with that?” Mingus said, “I want an open recording session so the audience can see how you really make a record.” George [pictured] turned down that idea flat, fearing the process would wear thin on an audience that had paid to hear music.

JW: So the stage was set for a showdown.
BC: Yes. After rehearsal, Mingus said he wanted everyone to wear tuxedos on stage at the concert. I had mine, because I always traveled with it.

JW: How did everyone look that night?
BC: Great. Except when Mingus came on stage, he had on jeans, a wash and wear shirt, a leather vest and sandals without socks.

JW: Why did he do that?
BC: I think to stand out from the band. But his protest didn’t stop there. He came to the microphone and said something like, “I have an announcement. George Wein says this is going to be a concert but it’s an open recording session. I’m going to stop and start the band where I want.”

JW: Wow, George must have been livid.
BC: I’m sure he was. Mingus was going to make sure George didn’t get a concert.

JW: How did the audience react from your perspective on stage?
BC: They thought at first Mingus was doing comedy.

JW: How did the music go over?
BC: We started the first piece, and it sounded good. But about three minutes into it, Mingus dropped his hand down for us to stop. He then goes up to the mike and says, “I wouldn’t buy that would you?” I had known all along that was going to happen.

JW: That must have been insulting to the musicians on stage, no?
BC: All of the musicians' faces changed. As a musician, you sensed immediately that this kind of thing was going to go on for a very long time that night. On the second song, Mingus didn’t like it either. He kept starting and stopping tunes all the way up to intermission. Then Mingus’ 67-year-old uncle came out with his Dixieland band and played for a half hour or so. Now it was close to 11 p.m. We were supposed to have been finished by 11 so the theater could close.

JW: What happened?
BC: We all got back on the stage. We figured Mingus was going to straighten up and play. But he went and did the same thing again with the stopping and restarting. Eventually, the stagehands started closing the curtain.

JW: What did the audience do?
BC: Some of them went to the left and right and pulled the curtains open [laughs]. At one point toward the end, Clark Terry grew fed up and started playing In a Mellow Tone. Everyone was so hungry to play, we all jumped in started jamming on the tune. You can hear that on the recording. We were all dying together and the guys figured we’d all jam to let it out. There were a lot of musicians jamming [laughs].

JW: Did you ever ask Mingus why he did what he did that night?
BC: He was going after George for whatever reason. I always knew Mingus was going to do it his way, and he did.

JazzWax tracks: For all of Charles Mingus' drama, the United Artists recording of his Town Hall concert won the 1963 Down Beat International Critics Poll as best album of the year. Originally, the album was 36 minutes long. But for the digital release, all of the completed tracks recorded were included.

Who was on the stage that night? Are you sitting down? The band featured Clark Terry, Ernie Royal, Snooky Young, Richard Williams, Rolf Ericson, Ed Armour, Lonnie Hillyer (tp), Britt Woodman, Quentin Jackson, Willie Dennis, Eddie Bert, Jimmy Cleveland, Paul Faulise (tb), Don Butterfield (tu), Danny Bank (contrabass-cl), Romeo Penque (oboe), Eric Dolphy, Charlie Mariano, Charles McPherson, Buddy Collette (as), Zoot Sims, George Berg (ts), Pepper Adams, Jerome Richardson (bar), Warren Smith (vib,perc), Toshiko Akiyoshi, Jaki Byard (p), Les Spann (g), Charles Mingus (b,narrator-1), Milt Hinton (b), Dannie Richmond (d), Grady Tate (perc), Melba Liston (arr,cond) and Bob Hammer, Gene Roland (arr).

You'll find Charles Mingus: The Complete Town Hall Concert at iTunes or here.

JazzWax clip: Here's Peggy's Blue Skylight from the Charles Mingus Town Hall concert in 1962, with Buddy Collette in the reed section...

Interview: Buddy Collette (Part 4)

In 1953, a full year before the Supreme Court's Brown v. Board of Education decision, Buddy Collette and other California musicians helped end the "separate but equal" practices of the American Federation of Musicians in Los Angeles. For decades, there were two union locals in the city—one for whites and another for blacks. Buddy, like many musicians at the time, viewed the split structure as unfair. Respected for his musicianship and his engaging, relaxed personality, Buddy was instrumental in helping to amalgamate the two locals and end the union's policies of segregation. [Pictured: Buddy Collette with Giuseppe Barazzetta, an Italian jazz writer and producer]

Once the two union locals were unified, Buddy went on to a sterling career in the 1950s and beyond as a leading jazz and studio musician. A dominant force in Los Angeles on the alto and tenor sax as well as clarinet and flute, Buddy appeared on hundreds of recordings, including many he led. But for what Buddy did to merge the two unions, all L.A. musicians—black and white—owe him a debt of gratitude for ending segregation, creating more competition, and ultimately improving the pool of musicians available for studio work.

In Part 4 of my five-part interview with Buddy, the early civil rights leader and exceptional reed and woodwind player, talks about unifying the Los Angeles union, his favorite flute albums, and recording with Frank Sinatra.

JazzWax: The American Federation of Musicians actually had two locals in Los Angeles that were segregated until 1953?
Buddy Collette: Yes, that’s the way it was. Local 47 was for white musicians and Local 767 was for blacks. Many cities had the same two-local setup. New York and Detroit’s locals were the only ones that had been integrated from the beginning.

JW: How did segregation translate into less opportunity for black musicians?
BC: The union dues may have been about the same but the opportunities and benefits were quite different. For example, the white local originally was downtown on Georgia St. Then it moved to a new building near Hollywood and Vine. The black local was on Central Ave. and 17th St.

JW: What did that mean?
BC: The white local's executives had closer proximity to the studios, which were in Hollywood. The black local was far away from where the money was being made. Also, the white union would always be called first by employers to provide musicians for jobs. This gave the white local a lot of power.

JW: How did the black local react?
BC: Carefully. The black local was dependent on the white local for work and for smart ways of operating in town. The black local never made a move without first asking the white union. It wasn’t a permission thing. It was a systems thing. The white union knew how things worked, so when the black union needed advice, the officials called their contacts at the white local. Over time, the black local became completely dependent on the white local for help and advice.

JW: What was your role in unifying the black and white locals?
BC: Many of us didn’t understand why there were two union locals. So I decided to run for president of the Local 767 in the early 1950s but I lost to the incumbent, who actually was a nice guy. The next year we ran Benny Carter. But he lost to the same incumbent, too. That year I ran for a seat on the local's board and won. So did a couple of the other guys like Bill Douglass and Marl Young [pictured], guys who felt the same way I did about the two locals. Soon we began urging Local 47 to unite. But Local 47 stalled.

JW: What did you do?
BC: The white musicians I knew weren’t concerned with race. It’s hard to explain, but back then, musicians didn’t think much about skin color. Everyone else seemed to, but not musicians. It was always about whether you could handle the music in front of you and what flavor you brought to the session. So we kept asking Local 47 if their delay was about race. They said, "No, it wasn’t about that." Meanwhile, we figured out how to bring the locals together legally to eliminate that as a stall tactic. Finally, in early 1953, the two locals agreed to unite. [Pictured: Representatives of Local 767 and Local 47 signing papers to unite in 1953]

JW: How did the unification improve music in L.A.?
BC: Well, you learned pretty fast who could play and who couldn’t—white or black [laughs]. You now had a chance to know what all musicians played like and who could handle what and who couldn't. I had been the first black musician hired by a television studio in 1948, so I saw first-hand that the selection of talent for studios wasn't always based on ability.

JW: Which TV show?
BC: The Groucho Marx Show. Jerry Fielding brought me in.

JW: Did you feel pressure as one of the first black musicians hired for TV, record and movie studios?
BC: I didn’t feel white-black pressure at all. I never did. I grew up in Central Gardens. All races lived there—blacks and whites. So when I went to work in the studios, it was the same way it was when I was a kid in my neighborhood.

JW: Did white players ever ask you if you were uncomfortable?
BC: Yes. But I told them, “Not at all. I grew up like this.” After a while, they felt more comfortable with me there, too. I remember one musician said, “You play a Selmer?” with the air that a Selmer saxophone was only for serious musicians and that somehow I wasn’t. I just said, “What do you mean? All good players play a Selmer.”

JW: So your strategy was never to make a person feel bad, just to adjust their premise?
BC: Exactly. I never put anyone down or set out to make someone feel bad. I’m just a likable person. That came from my mother. 

JW: How so?
BC: My mother didn’t dislike anyone unless someone did something to her. And then it was just a personal thing. She never referred to “those white people.” She never used that kind of language in our home. Neither did my father.

JW: You made quite a few albums on flute.
BC: Yes, it’s an instrument that came naturally to me. Which is your favorite record?

JW: I think Swinging Shepherds and Shepherds at the Cinema. You, Paul Horn, Harry Klee and Bud Shank on flutes—wow.
BC: Oh, yes. those came out beautifully. We played so well, we didn’t even listen to the playbacks in the studio. We all had to go and record on other dates and knew they had come out perfectly. 

JW: You and arranger Pete Rugolo on those sessions pioneered the four-flutes sound, didn’t you?
BC: Yes. Before these albums [in 1958 and 1959], most bands used one flute in the woodwind section, with a bass clarinet on the bottom to set off the contrast. But when we used just four flutes in that group and pulled it off, the sound was different and other arrangers picked up on it.

JW: Which arrangers?
BC: At a recording session with Nelson Riddle one time, I noticed that one of the charts called for four flutes. When I looked up at Nelson, he winked at me and said, “Do you recognize that?” I sure did. We pioneered that sound.

JW: What was the studio scene like back in the 1950s and 1960s? Describe a typical session?
BC: You’d go to Hollywood, usually to the Capitol Records tower. You’d come in early and see the music for the first time.

JW: What type of musician was there?
BC: Only the top guys who could play the stuff they saw once. If a date was at 2 p.m., I’d get there a half-hour early for parking. Then I’d go in and warm up and see what I’d have to play.

JW: What if one didn’t leave enough time?
BC: You might wind up with a handful of notes that were tough to sight read—even if you practiced every day.

JW: Were you ever concerned that an arrangement would be too far out?
BC: Never. I was playing so much music during the week that everything and anything was do-able. Once in a while you’d get a creative writer whose charts could be particularly challenging. Pete Rugolo, for example, wrote hard but none of it was ever labored.

JW: You recorded with Frank Sinatra on many albums. What were those sessions like?
BC: Great. Once he got to know me, I worked a couple of parties of his. In recording sessions, he wasn’t above changing an arrangement.

JW: How so?
BC: There was a time when Nelson [Riddle] arranged the orchestra for four cellos. That’s a big sound. Frank listened to the run down and then told Nelson to have just one cello play. He was right.

JW:  Sinatra's Swingin’ Session in August 1960 was your first recording date with the singer.
BC: That’s right. I was so excited. On one of the songs [Should I], I had a tenor sax solo. It was an eight-bar solo, which is a lot in a studio. When we played down the chart, Frank was checking me out.

JW: How did you handle the solo?
BC: I had heard Frank's phrasing on records and realized that the way to go was to make my notes round, to enrich his sound. When I took off on the melody during the take, I didn’t watch him. I just stayed within the context of the song. I also didn’t go off on my own.

JW: What happened afterward?
BC: After the tune and my solo, they turned to him for a reaction. He said he wanted to hear it back. So they played the track back. After listening to my solo, Frank just laughed, like he was so content with what he had heard. He loved what I had done. Frank had a way of knowing how a song and a solo had to feel.

JW: What happened after Swingin’ Session?
BC: After that I was in business. Whenever Frank was on the West Coast playing or recording, he’d ask for me. I got a lot of work with him. Frank said, “I need a soloist who can play pretty.” So I wound up on many of his record dates.

JW: Sinatra was loyal to the jazz musicians on his dates?
BC: Very. One time we did a session later in his life. I was one of the guys who had been with him for about 20 years. The first thing he did when he came in was look down the reed section. When he saw me, he said, “Hi Buddy.”

JW: Sinatra liked to see familiar guys in the band?
BC: Who doesn’t? You want to hear guys who know your style. Frank always liked familiar faces in the band. When the older guys who had recorded with him no longer could make the sessions, Frank would come in and say, “Where’s Goz [trumpeter Conrad Gozzo]? Where’s Pete [Candoli]?” Things like that.

Tomorrow, Buddy talks about Charles Mingus' controversial 1962 Town Hall concert.

JazzWax tracks: If you dig jazz flute, here are three Buddy Collette must-owns. The first is Flute Fraternity, with Buddy Collette and Herbie Mann. This 1957 album for Mode is gorgeous from start to finish. Buddy and Mann are backed by Jimmy Rowles (p), Buddy Clark (b) and Mel Lewis (d). This is available at iTunes or here.

Two of my favorites are by the Swinging Shepherds, a flute quartet Buddy formed briefly for two recording sessions in 1958 and 1959 for Mercury. Arranged by Pete Rugolo, At the Cinema and Four Swinging Shepherds showcase flutists Buddy Collette, Paul Horn, Bud Shank and Harry Klee with a Four Brothers arranging style applied to the flute. The rhythm sections on both albums are top-shelf. Both are out of print. Try typing the album names into Google to see what you come up with.

JazzWax clip: Here's Buddy on flute and tenor sax playing Emaline, the love theme he wrote for the film Trauma (1983)...