Fred Goodman's new book, Fortune's Fool: Edgar Bronfman Jr., Warner Music and an Industry in Crisis, offers a searing indictment of the executive's business decisions and a stark portrait of how the music industry wound up in its current state. Here's a passage from Fred's book:
"One reason the record industry has been hit so hard by the Internet is that the CD was not a beloved product. Audio arguments aside, its only selling point was convenience. Its appearance marked the end of great album graphics, and it never inspired the passion that the vinyl LP did. CDs just weren't as much fun to own, and when MP3s appeared, CDs were easy to abandon. Today, as nice as it is to be able to go online and hear virtually whatever I want whenever I want, I miss the experience of buying a music product worth owning: filling a terabit storage device with ten thousand music files isn't anywhere near as engaging as wandering through a great record store or even a good used bookstore. [Photo: Fred Goodman]
"That is the business record companies should be in: creating products and online services that add value to recordings and excite people rather than writing off a generation that never had anything worth buying. Until then, media companies—even with some measure of online rights protection—won't have any real spur to growth. And there will never be another Ahmet Ertegun [pictured]."
Fortune's Fool is a smart, easy read filled with insights and behind-the-scenes anecdotes. For a music lover, it's a look inside the sausage factory, and what you learn isn't pretty. You'll find Fortune's Foolhere.
Ayako Shirasaki. Last Wednesday I had an opportunity to hear pianist Ayako Shirasaki perform solo at Smalls in New York. She played two sets with enormous sensitivity and grace, including a moving rendition of Turn Out the Stars in tribute to Bill Evans on the night of his death 30 years ago. To hear Ayako's performance, check Smalls' site here. Her current album is Falling Leaves at iTunes or here.
Hank O'Neal. If you dig photography and first-hand jazz stories, dig legendary photographer Hank O'Neal's blog. Last week Hank featured a terrific post on John Lewis here.
Radio roundup: David Brent Johnson [pictured] of Night Lights' fame on WFIU just posted a podcast of his recent show, Jazz From Monterey: 1958, the Birth of a Festival. The show features recordings from the first Monterey Jazz Festival and includes Louis Armstrong, Billie Holiday, Dave Brubeck, Gerry Mulligan, Cal Tjader and Jimmy Giuffre. You'll find David's podcast here... Jazz musician Bill Kirchner's Jazz From The Archives show tonight will feature pianist-singer Franck Amsallem. Bill [pictured] will spin recordings of Amsallem with bassists Gary Peacock and Johannes Weidenmuller, drummer Bill Stewart, saxophonist Tim Ries, singer Elisabeth Kontomanou, and others. The shows airs tonight at 11 p.m. (EDT) here.
Oddball album cover of the week. Gerald Wiggins was a sharp pianist with impeccable taste. This 1956 album, on the appropriately named Dig Records, features a surrealist landscape by drummer Johnny Otis. At the top is the Gerald Wiggins trio in powdered head coverings. It's all too cool for school.
Laurie Pepper is one smart cookie. When I interviewed her for my Wall Street Journalarticle on business-minded spouses of deceased jazz greats (Laurie is Art Pepper's widow), she told me the secret of her success: Making friends with worldwide collectors of bootleg recordings and releasing the material they send her on her Widow's Taste label. It's a brilliant move when you think about it. Why hate when you can love and make money?
Now Laurie has outdone herself—and has likely started a reactive trend. Recently, Disconforme, a Spanish label, released an album featuring Art Pepper performing at the Jazz Showcase in Chicago in 1977. It was issued under the Sunburn label. Somehow the label obtained the tapes Laurie had in her possession but had never released. The Spanish label issued the material in Europe.
As most people know, European copyright laws allow labels there to issue anything recorded more than 50 years ago without asking permission or paying royalties. This law has created a hornet's nest of opposition here, where labels routinely find that their remastering efforts are cloned and resold by European labels for less.
But rather than get mad, Laurie last week got even. Here's what she told me yesterday:
"I bought a copy of the album, transferred it into my iTunes library, uploaded the recording to my label [Widow's Taste], registered the album at CD Baby and now I'm offering it as a $4.75 download. I even scanned the photo used on their cover as well as the liner notes. All in all, I spent $150 to get all of this done and promote its availability. If I make back my $150, I'll make a profit."
If you can't beat 'em, plunder 'em.
JazzWax notes:Art Pepper: Jazz Showcase, Chicago (Widow's Taste) is available at CDBaby.com here.
Guitarist Joe Diorio recorded only two albums with saxophonist
Sonny Stitt. Both are among my favorite Stitt recordings thanks to Diorio's extraordinary swinging rhythm guitar playing and soulful fills. The first of the pair was Move on Over (1963) and the second was My Main Man (1964). Both were recorded for the Argo label and both featured Stitt in peak form on alto and tenor saxes. On these dates, Diorio provides aggressive, rhythmic chord comping and ringing guitar solos that linger long after the albums are over. For me, Diorio on these albums rivals Stitt in excitement and catchy ideas—so much so that I often think of them as Diorio's sessions rather than Stitt's.
Diorio, 74, was born in Waterbury, Conn., and studied formally in the 1950s. He has played with Eddie Harris, Ira Sullivan,
Stan Getz, Pat Metheny, Horace Silver, and Freddie Hubbard, among others. In 2005, Diorio suffered a debilitating stroke and has been struggling to regain use of his left arm ever since. For more on Diorio's background and career, Bill Milkowski wrote a fine piece in JazzTimes in 2008 here.
Move on Over was a quintet date with Stitt on alto and tenor saxes, Nicky Hill on tenor sax, Eddie Buster on organ, Diorio on guitar and Gerald
Donovan on drums. Diorio here is tasteful and swinging, supporting Stitt perfectly with groovy chord voicings and tasty harmony lines. Many of the tracks open with Diorio's clarion chords setting the mood. Among the finest examples are Stormy Weather, Love Letters and Shut the Back Door.
My Main Man also was a quintet date, teaming Stitt with trombonist Bennie Green. Joining the front line was Bobby Buster on organ, Diorio on
guitar and Dorrell Anderson on drums. This album features three hip bossa novas—Our Day Will Come, The Night Has a Thousand Eyes and Flame and Frost. Dig Diorio's rhythm playing here and his deep, rich solo on the last of the three tunes. The remaining tracks are blues.
I have not kept up with Joe Diorio's health progress, but I hope he's mending. These albums remain great rhythm guitar works, with Diorio courageously popping and swinging behind one of the most dynamic and dominant saxophonists of the period.
JazzWax tracks: Sonny Stitt's Move on Over with Joe Diorio is
available on Move on Over: The Eddie Buster Sides (Jazz Beat). The CD includes Move on Over and Stitt's At the DJ Lounge (1961), recorded live in Washington, D.C. The CD is available here. My Main Man is available at iTunes or here. You'll find Diorio's other albums as a sideman and a leader at iTunes and at the sites of online CD retailers.
JazzWax clip: For a sense of Joe Diorio's enormous technique and taste, here's a clip of him playing Autumn Leaves...
Pianist Bill Evans died 30 years ago today. I attended the service for
Evans in September 1980 at St. Peter's Church in the base of New York's Citicorp Center. I still remember poet Bill Zavatsky [pictured] reading his poem, To the Pianist Bill Evans. As a tribute to Evans, here is Zavatsky's poem:
To the Pianist Bill Evans
When I hear you
play "My Foolish Heart"
I am clouded
remembering more than
Scott LaFaro's charred bass
as it rested
against a Yonkers wall
in its transit
from accidental fire
like a shadowy
grace note
exploding into
rhythms of Lou
insanely driving
"Man, we're late!"
his long curved bass
straining the car
interior, a canvas swan
my hand clutched,
fingered, refingered:
steel strings as
of the human neck
the vulnerable neck
the neck of music
squeezed by hands
the fragile box
of song, the breath
I crushed out of the music
before I killed
by accident
whatever in me
could sing
not touching the keyboard
of terrible parties
and snow
snow
falling as canvas and
wood and hair flamed
behind a windshield
I imagined being
trapped inside, still
see it in my heart
our terror magnified
note by note
purified each year
the gentle rise
and circle of
cinders in
February air
in their transit
from fire
into music,
into memory, a space
where heroin
does not slowly wave
its blazing arm,
like smoking ivory
teeth and fingers
scorched by the
proximity
of cigarettes laid
on anonymous piano
lips that crush
our function, in-
transigent wire,
inanimate wood
of another century
we must save by song!
for which we are paid!
continuing to be
used, insisting
our hands present
themselves
and keep
on taking our hands
—Bill Zavatsky
JazzWax note: Poet Bill Zavatsky will be appearing tonight at New York's Cornelia Street Cafe, along with Laurie Verchomin, Evans' lover at the time of his death, who will be reading from her upcoming memoir. For my five-part interview with Laurie on her time with Evans, go here.
In case you missed the broadcast of Ross Porter's [pictured] dynamic and revealing
1979 interview with pianist Bill Evans, you now can hear it as a podcast at Jazz.FM91 here. Just check the box to the right of the last item on the list and click the blue play button.
JazzWax clip:Here's Bill Evans, Eddie Gomez and Marty Morell in Helsinki, Finland, in 1970 playing Johnny Mandel's Emily...
As a jazz guitarist, it's not easy to play pretty. You have to
worship harmony, you have to love the sound of the instrument, and you have to want to seduce audiences. Back in the 1950s and 1960s, guitarists like Barry Galbraith, Jimmy Raney, Chuck Wayne, Mundell Lowe, Wes Montgomery and others understood the conversational quality and beckoning nature of the instrument. One guitarist around today who is carrying that torch is Royce Campbell.
Royce's name might not ring a bell, since he rarely performs publicly these days. I've enjoyed his music for years through his magnificent 1996 album, A Tribute to
Henry Mancini. So it was a surprise a week or so ago when I received a lovely email from him complimenting me on a post. I've long wanted to tell him how much I enjoy his playing. Royce today spends much of his time recording and composing down in Virginia. But he's considering offers to play clubs again, and I hope he does. He's an absolute joy on the ears, and I can listen to his patient, lyrical playing for hours on end.
Royce and I spoke yesterday about his early life and playing with Marvin Gaye and Henry Mancini:
JazzWax: When were you born? Royce Campbell: In North Vernon, Indiana,
in 1952. I lived there for the first five years. Then my mom remarried a career Naval officer, and we moved around a lot when I was a kid. I've lived in three foreign countries—Barbados, Japan and Spain—and in many U.S. cities.
JW: When did you start playing guitar? RC: At age 9 after seeing Chuck Berry on TV. I told my mom I wanted a guitar and she bought one for me. But I didn’t get serious about
music until age 16, when my uncle Carroll DeCamp exposed me to jazz. He had arranged for Stan Kenton and Eddie Daniels. He arranged my album with strings, Plays for Lovers. Having a world-class musician in the family actually made it easier when I told my parents that I wanted to be a musician. They were very supportive.
JW: Where did you go to music school? RC: I didn’t. I didn't have a formal music education. My uncle was my education. When I graduated from high school in Spain, he invited me to live with him for a few years in Indianapolis, and I welcomed the stability after moving around so much. He showed me things and was always there to answer questions. So I’m primarily self-taught.
JW: Can you read music? RC: Yes. I had music lessons at a music store in
Louisville, Kentucky, when my family lived there. When I lived with my uncle later, I began playing locally. Then I began to get noticed. Soon I was the first-call guitarist in Indianapolis.
JW: Is that how you landed a job with Marvin Gaye? RC: Yes. I was called to join his concert orchestra in late 1973. At the time, his big hit was Let’s Get It On. I was 21 years old and did three tours with him—at three or four
days apiece. All of the charts were written out. I knew at the time it was kind of a big deal, especially when we started playing major arenas with screaming fans. They had bouncers at the edge of the stages who would throw women back into the audience when they tried to climb up there. I really got an education about the music business on those tours.
JW: How so? RC: For one, we were paid poorly. Marvin's band hired young musicians so they didn't have to pay us much. We also traveled on buses without hotel stays, again for savings. Being on the road was very rough, even by the 1970s. The rhythm section was huge—there were eight pieces. Marvin didn’t have many interactions with band members. He’d just come in toward the end of a sound check and then show up for the concert.
JW: What was your overall impression of Gaye? RC: He seemed introverted for a star. He seemed almost like a reluctant celebrity. You don’t really run
into that anymore. Anyone who has a high profile today is completely committed to touring and fully understands their responsibilities to audiences and musicians. But back then, concerts were an afterthought, a replay of albums that crowds had already owned. Today, concerts mean everything. It's where the money is made. So a star's commitment to performing and stamina have to be there.
JW: What was your favorite Gaye song to play? RC:Inner City Blues. I love the phrasing. The other thing about Marvin is that he never did the same song the same way twice. He changed them up every night. He could improvise.
JW: How did you wind up touring with Henry Mancini for 19 years? RC: The same way. An Indianapolis music contractor
called me in 1975. It was a time when Henry was thinking about taking on a regular guitar player. Then I impressed him enough to stay on for all his live gigs going forward. The venues for those concerts were large auditoriums. Over the years he kept adding instruments to the point where we were eventually the size of a symphony orchestra.
JW: Do you think your years with Mancini influenced your tasteful, patient style? RC: Thank you. Yes, absolutely. After all that time with Henry, playing his music, I came to understand what a master of melody and romance he was. I feel it rubbed off on me.
JW: What surprised you most about Mancini? RC: Henry told me that he wished he could play jazz, which came as a surprise. He said, “I’d love a
genie to give me the power to be a jazz pianist, to be able to improvise.” Henry wrote beautifully and played beautifully. But he also wanted to improvise and was lightly frustrated that he couldn't do so with conviction.
JW: As an insider, what's special about Mancini’s music? RC: Henry's style and how clear his ideas were. A lot of arrangers get carried away. They write cluttered arrangements or go too far. Henry learned early what
not to do. He told me one of his first arranging jobs was for Benny Goodman. Eager to impress, he wrote a chart that was hard on the trumpets. The first trumpet took him aside and told him that he had to learn to write cleaner lines. That was a wake-up call for him.
JW: What did he learn? RC: He learned that when it came to writing and composing, you have to take out all the fluff. He said, “You just want to leave the meat and potatoes.”
JW: Anything else? RC: Henry knew how to figure out the right balance between creating music that musicians would like to
play and music that audiences wanted to hear. I strive for that, too. I can write and play stuff that’s far out, things that certainly would impress musicians. I love free jazz. It’s a lot of fun. But it’s a stretch for audiences. Most listeners have a hard time getting it.
JW: What’s the hardest thing about playing pretty? RC: Keeping it simple. That's hard. If you play notes
that don’t fit the melody or you play too fast, you start to lose your listeners. A guitar is different than most other instruments. It’s highly audible and most often you're playing one note at a time. So listeners’ ears catch every one of them. If you play notes that don’t fit or you jam in too many notes, audiences stop listening to the instrument's storyline.
JW: What’s most important? RC: As a guitarist, you must know harmony inside and out to play melodically. You have to know how the notes you play
relate to the melody. It’s not about scales. It’s about the harmony, about the notes the listener will find familiar and will welcome even more than the melody itself.
JazzWax clips: Royce Campbell's playing is gorgeous. Like Henry Mancini's music, Royce's lines caress your ears until you're won over to what he's playing.
Three of my favorite albums by Royce are A Tribute to Henry
Mancini, Plays for Lovers and What Is This Thing Called. You'll find them iTunes or here, here and here.
The first album is one of the finest tribute albums to the late composer. On the second album, Royce is backed by a string section beautifully arranged by
Carroll DeCamp. The third CD is a clever concept. Each
song is based on the chord changes to standards but Royce has given them
different melody lines and new titles. So we have I Fall in Love Too Hard, Have You
Met Miss Smith and How About Me?
JazzWax clip: Here's Royce Campbell playing a blues with all chords...
On the cover of her new album, pianist Ayako Shirasaki looks
as demure and as delicate as a cherry blossom. But looks can be deceiving, especially in jazz. On Falling Leaves: Live in Hamburg, Ayako plays solo piano with a powerful attack and enormous physical strength that leaves you enchanted and breathless.
As for the demure thing—Ayako shatters that misconception by boldly taking on some tough jazz pieces on this album, her fourth CD. Standards
range from Charlie Parker's Confirmation and Sonny Rollins' Airegin to Barry Harris' Nascimento and Chick Corea's Mirror Mirror. She turns these songs and others into works of tidal beauty, whipping each into a lush, frothy frenzy. It's as though she were singing through the keyboard rather than playing it.
First, full disclosure. I wrote the liner notes to Falling Leaves. But I do not receive a dime in royalties from sales, and I only take on liner-notes projects to albums that interest me. What's more, I would have raved about this CD anyway.
Ayako was born in Japan and was exposed to jazz while growing up in the 1970s and 1980s. When she was five years old, her father, an ardent jazz fan and amateur trumpeter,
introduced her to Clifford Brown and Max Roach, Bud Powell and other jazz greats on cassette. An early concert pianist, Ayako eventually gravitated toward jazz, much to her father's delight and mother's trepidation. By age 10, she was transcribing the solos of Parker and Powell, leaving her parents and teachers amazed.
After relocating to New York in 1997 to be closer to the jazz scene, she took English language courses at Columbia University. After Ayako met her husband at a Greenwich Village cafe in 1998, he persuaded her to enroll at the Manhattan School of Music. She received her masters degree in 2001.
On Falling Leaves, you not only hear Ayako execute inventive interpretations of well-chosen jazz classics but she also takes
on a few American Songbook gems. Catch her version of Rodgers and Hart's My Romance, a soaring, passionate rendition that triggers enormous audience applause at the end. Ayako also introduces original works that showcase her full range of skills as a lyrical composer and dynamic soloist.
And dig what she does with Leroy Anderson's Sleigh Ride, zigzagging on the melody and sweeping through with solid power and swing. You can almost feel the icy powder spray up from the sled as she roars through her interpretation, adding Bud Powell and Tommy Flanagan touches along the way. This one is the holiday jazz track to beat.
And catch Ayako's stride style on her own Monkey Punch, a blues
with a Thelonious Monk overlay. Or her Far Away, a suspenseful tune with a rich Johnny Mandel-like melody that pianist Kenny Barron encouraged her to compose.
But perhaps one of the CD's most eloquent solutions to a complex problem came toward the
album's close, when audience members requested Paul Desmond's Take Five and Sonny Rollins' St. Thomas. Somehow Ayako managed to seamlessly connect Desmond's 5/4 standard to Sonny's rambunctious calypso, and the result is quite spectacular.
To my ears, Ayako is fast on her way to becoming a leading jazz light and fresh voice in the crowded field of performing jazz piano stars. Sample a few tracks and see what you think.
JazzWax tracks: You will find Ayako Shirasaki's Falling
Leaves: Live in Hamburg (Jan Matthies Records) recorded in March 2009 at iTunes or here. Try sampling Falling Leaves, Sleigh Ride or My Romance.
JazzWax note: Ayako will be appearing at Small's in New York this Wednesday at 7:30 p.m. For more information, go here. You also can catch her set live on your computer by going here.
JazzWax clip: Here's Ayako in a trio setting performing It Could Happen to You back in January...
Three days after his 80th birthday, Sonny Rollins performed
perhaps his greatest and most memorable concert in years Friday night at New York's Beacon Theater. And from my vantage point, Sonny knew exactly how electrifying and successful he was. By evening's end, Sonny's grin traveled from ear to ear and he was clearly elated to hear the thunderous ovation, applause and shout-outs from the sold-out audience. [Photo of Sonny arriving at the Beacon Theater Friday afternoon by Bret Primack]
Sonny was joined on stage during the evening by his working band——guitarist
Russell Malone, bassist Bob Cranshaw, drummer Kobie Watkins and percussionist Sammy Figueroa. There also were three announced guests and two who came as a big surprise to the audience. The three expected additions were trumpeter Roy Hargrove, guitarist Jim Hall and bassist Christian McBride. All three performed brilliantly, and given Sonny's sonic-boom energy level Friday night and drag-race execution, they had little choice.
Before the first of these guests came out, Sonny performed the
strong, riffy Patanjali and Global Warming. With these two strenuous pieces, it became clear that Sonny was out to prove something and overcome his last Beacon appearance in 1995, which he told me he wasn't happy with.
Roy Hargrove was the first guest on stage, playing I Can't Get Started (with Sonny blowing obbligatos) and Raincheck. As Hargrove left, Jim Hall was next to appear with Sonny, performing In a Sentimental Mood and a perfect If Ever I Would Leave You.
Christian McBride followed Jim but was quickly joined by the first of two unannounced guests—drummer Roy Haynes. The
quartet played In My Solitude. Then as the group launched into Sonnymoon for Two, Sonny told the audience that "someone wanted to come out with his horn to play Happy Birthday." After a bit of a delay, out walked Ornette Coleman [pictured] to a rolling gasp of surprise from the audience.
Dan Morgenstern, director of Rutgers University's Institute of
Jazz Studies, was seated next to me and said he could not recall a time when Sonny and Coleman were on the same stage together. The evening ended with an encore, featuring all of the musicians (except Coleman) playing a rousing St. Thomas.
The high point of the evening for me was If Ever I Would Leave You with Jim Hall. Sonny had just delivered two searing songs with his band and two competitive
renditions with Hargrove. To watch Sonny ease off the throttle to match Jim's introspective approach was fascinating. Rather than bully Jim's delicate lines with his leonine style, Sonny kept inching back until the pair were both in the same space, with Sonny leading and Jim filling with his exciting chord voicings. Talk about jazz musicians listening to each other. The sensitivity was enormous. Personally, I would love to see these two record again, and I know Jim is open to it.
Sonny and Coleman playing together also was a thrill. Coleman sounded strong and spirited, launching into a series of free-jazz lines. Interestingly, Coleman found a free-jazz spot that wasn't too far out or provocative, and Sonny let go without dropping his melodic style. As a result, the saxophone giants competed in a mutually agreeable creative zone.
This concert was one for the books. When I spoke with Jim Hall yesterday, he said that he could sense the audience's
excitement and the evening's drama when he came out on stage. "Sonny and I had a great time playing off each other on If Ever I Would Leave You," he said. "I think this concert showed that musicians have a particular commonality, and when it all comes together, the results can be pretty spectacular."
Despite having seen Duke Ellington, Count Basie, Stan Kenton, Sonny Stitt, Bill Evans, Thelonious Monk, Art Blakey and so many others, I really couldn't think of another concert in my past that compared to the energy, jubilation and creative excitement of Friday night. Bravo, Sonny!
If you missed my article in the Wall Street Journal a week ago in which Sonny and I spent two hours in his old neighborhood in Harlem, go here.
More Sonny. Writer Greg Thomas conducted a smart interview with Sonny Rollins last week at The Root in which he stirred up Sonny's passion while retaining the sound of the saxophonist's voice. Go here.
Jerry Lee Lewis. If you're in the New York City on
Monday, Jerry Lee Lewis will be performing at B.B. King Blues Club & Grill at 8 p.m. For more information, go here.
In 1957, when Jerry Lee first performed on the Steve Allen Show, the producers during rehearsal weren't sure Jerry Lee should kick back the piano chair during a live, on-air appearance. They were concerned that the piano player's rash action might send the chair into the set if kicked back too hard, making noise on live TV. But having someone stand there to stop the chair from going too far would tip the singer's hand, making the action seem staged rather than impromptu.
When I interviewed Jerry Lee in Mississippi for the Wall Street Journal last week, I asked him about his first TV appearance and how he managed to get the producers to allow him to let the chair fly:
Here's what Jerry Lee told me:
"During rehearsals, I kicked the chair back and the producers didn't know what to make of it for live TV.
They were afraid it could hit into something. They also thought having someone standing there would seem dumb.
"Fortunately, Milton Berle was sitting in the first couple of rows. He loved what I did and knew it had to stay in the performance because it fit with what I was doing.
"He suggested that when I kicked the chair back,
someone should be there to catch it but that the person should seem surprised and shove it back—but to the other camera across stage. This way, it would look like the person who caught the chair wasn't there to catch it and wasn't pleased that I had nearly hit him.
"So that's what we did on TV. That's why you see the chair fly across the stage soon after I kick it back."
Bill Evans. One of the last interviews Bill Evans gave before his death in 1980 was to Ross Porter of Jazz.FM91. The interview will air on Sunday at 4 p.m. (EDT). Go here to listen live.
Herb Snitzer. Photographer Herb Snitzer's exhibit Jazz
Ambassadors will open October 8 and run until November 21 at the St. Petersburg (Florida) History Museum. His jazz images on exhibit span a 30-year period.
In addition to the exhibit, there will be a symposium featuring pianists Dick
Hyman and Randy Weston; Dan Morgenstern of the Rutgers' Institute of Jazz Studies, and Buster Cooper (of the Duke Ellington Orchestra). Herb will discuss the days when the State Department sent jazz musicians on global tours as part of its foreign policy. [Photo of Dizzy Gillespie by Herb Snitzer]
David Amram. The Lake George
(N.Y.) Jazz Weekend runs September 17-19 and will feature David Amram on piano, French horn and a range of other instruments. David turns 80 in November and the festival will celebrate the event a little early. For more information about the weekend and participating artists, go here.
Oddball album of the week: Peter Ustinov was one of those individuals who excelled at everything he touched. A winner of
two Oscars, Ustinov also was a film, theater and opera director as well as newspaper columnist, radio broadcaster and TV presenter. He also was a noted talk-show wit. All of these accomplishments notwithstanding, it's hard to figure out why he's in the engine of this sports car, why he's beckoning to what appears to be an Asian woman, or why any of it is funny. A different time, a different place.
Pianist-singer Mose Allison is perhaps rock's least likely muse.
A Southern blues singer-pianist, Mose's lyrics are sophisticated and riddled with puns while his voice has a distinct twang. But it's this subversive originality and "who cares" approach that has made his music attractive to artists such as Georgie Fame, the Yardbirds, the Clash, Leon Russell, Van Morrison, Elvis Costello and Bonnie Raitt. You also can hear his flinty phrasing in the voices of Bob Dylan, Mungo Jerry, Gregg Allman, Neil Young, Boz Scaggs and Donald Fagen of Steely Dan.
But perhaps Mose's biggest rock-group fan was The Who, which heard his version of Sonny Boy Williamson's Eyesight to the Blind from Autumn Song and recorded it on Tommy. Then The Who
performed Mose's Young Man Blues on Live at Leeds (1970). On the album, before playing the song, you hear Roger Daltrey credit Mose and praise him.
Mose's latest album, The Way of the World, is as good as any he has recorded. For my Wall Street Journal article on Mose from last week, go here. Now,here's Part 2 of my conversation with Mose:
JazzWax: In 1956, how did you meet Stan Getz? Mose Allison: I used to go to these jam sessions at night at a loft on 34th St. that belonged to trombonist Clyde Cox. Many of the guys who were there were from the South. At these sessions, I met drummer Frank Isola, who put me in touch with Stan.
JW: How did you get along with Getz? MA: Just fine. No problems. I worked off and on with
him. He was a great player. I made one album with him and bassist Addison Farmer and drummer Jerry Segal. It was The Soft Swing in 1957. I didn’t have to adapt to Stan’s style. He liked me just as I was. My models as far as a rhythm piano player goes were Al Haig [pictured] and John Lewis. Stan had a lush intensity. We talked a lot. I liked him. He was a great player.
JW: Where is Parchman Farm, which you recorded on Local Color in 1957? MA: Parchman Farm is in Parchman Miss. That’s what they used to call the Mississippi State Penitentiary. They used to take prisoners to work in the fields. When
I was 10 years old I was in a gas station in Tippo when a team of horses and bloodhounds came thundering through, looking for an escaped prisoner. It left a deep impression on me.
JW: What about Seventh Son from Creek Bank in 1958? MA: I didn’t write that song. That’s Willie Dixon's. I first heard the song on a record by Willie Maybon. I liked it so much I decided to record it.
JW: What about your unusual vocal style? MA: I’m just doing it. I developed the style over the years. My inspirations were Ray Charles, Charles Brown and Percy Mayfield [pictured]. I didn’t run away from where I was
from. I never felt that was necessary. I just did my thing. I hoped it would impress people. Back Country Suite got real good reviews so I continued doing what I did with a trio.
JW: You went to Britain in the mid-1960s? MA: Yes, I went to England after a guy who booked Sonny Boy Williamson and others blues artists invited me to go on tour there.
JW: Who was the first English rocker to take on your work? MA: Georgie Fame [pictured] was one of the first. I’ve
known him for years. I met The Who later, after they had recorded Young Man Blues, which was a surprise to me.
JW: When you heard it, what did you think? MA: I figured that’s great. Their version is really the command performance on my song. I like anything that anybody does with my material. I do what I want with other people's material, so I don't quibble when they interpret mine.
JW: Did you like rock? MA: It was alright. I had already heard all the music on which rock was based, so it was just an extension of the blues to me.
Muddy Waters [pictured] said something like, “Rock is just the blues but with a backbeat.” All the rock guys used a heavy backbeat.
JW: Did you like it? MA: Not really. I didn’t like the constant backbeat because it limits you as far as improvisation goes. But I appreciated rock and what they were trying to do with the blues. Recently I did a tribute to The Who’s Pete Townshend. They just rolled the piano out. There were mostly guitar players. They rolled the piano out in front of audience and I did Young Man Blues and Old Man Blues.
JW: Why do you think you’re not better known? MA: Probably because I’m so many different things.
They don’t know where to put me. The advertising world has to say someone is the best at something. I’ve never been the best at anything. I do a lot of things.
JW: Your new album, The Way of the World, is terrific. MA: Thank you. I met guitarist-producer Joe Henry in Dusseldorf, Germany. He said at the time that he wanted to record me. I hadn't recorded in about 12 years and I didn’t figure on making any more records.
JW: Why not? MA: With the reissues and so forth, I have put out about 50 albums. None of them have sold very well
according to the royalty statements I get [laughs]. I didn’t see a need to make a new one.
JW: What changed your mind? MA: Joe kept at me and mailed my wife and so forth. I kept putting him off. Finally I said to myself, Joe has a great reputation as a producer and he’s also a great musician. I eventually came to the conclusion, "Why not?" We recorded at his studio, and I like how it came out. [Pause] Never underestimate the power of relentless persuasion [laughs].
JazzWax notes: Here are quotes from rock and blues musicians featured at a Mose Allison fan site:
"The man’s voice was heaven. So cool, so decisively hip... Mose was my man. I felt him to be the epitome of restrained screaming power." —Pete Townshend of
The Who
"When I discovered Mose Allison I felt I had discovered the missing link between jazz and blues" —Ray Davies of The Kinks
"Everybody I know in England was raised on Mose Allison." —John Mayall [pictured]
"Mose Allison is a beautiful musician." —Willie Dixon
"Mose, you got a good thing goin' on." —Sonny Boy Williamson
JazzWax tracks: Mose's The Way of the World (ANTI) is
superb and includes a charming duet with his singer-songwriter daughter Amy on This New Situation. You'll find the album at iTunes or here.
JazzWax clip:Here's Mose's My Brain, the first song on his new album, The Way of the World. Dig the wordplay!...
Mose Allison sings like he’s taking a bath with his clothes on.
There's a lovely howling casualness about his vocal style, but what you hear is somewhat deceptive. Within that rural yowl is wisdom and depth, not only in the lyrics of the songs he chooses but also in his piano playing. Mose may initially sound like he just fell off the turnip truck, but he played and recorded with Al Cohn and Zoot Sims, Stan Getz and Gerry Mulligan in the late 1950s before recording as a leader. There's a lot going on there. My profile of Mose ran last week in the Wall Street Journal and can be found here.
When I went to see Mose perform at the Jazz Standard last week, I was surprised that he knew all of his songs by number.
He'd quietly say to bassist Ratzo Harris and drummer Tom Whaley "No. 4" or "No. 36." Harris had a book of lead sheets mounted on a music stand. I also was surprised by how syncopated and rhythmic Mose plays today, especially with his left hand. You close your eyes and it's as if a hard-shell crab has mounted the keyboard and is playing with its claws.
Here's Part 1 of my interview with Mose, 82, one of the legendary originators of jazz-folk and a favorite of British rock groups of the 1960s:
JazzWax: Your lyrics and blues are so utterly original. How many songs have you written? Mose Allison: [Laughs] About 150.
JW: Where were you born? MA: On my grandfather’s farm three miles south of
Tippo Mississippi. There were just a couple of general stores there, a gas station and a cotton gin.
JW: You’re probably one of the few blues singers around today who actually picked cotton, yes? MA: My father made sure I learned the value of a dollar at a young age.
JW: How does one pick cotton? MA: It's been a while, but you have an 11-foot sack. The pod is a seeded thing on a branch and it comes off
pretty easy. The trick isn’t in the picking but the volume, moving fast and getting a lot in that sack.
JW: Where did you learn to play boogie-woogie piano? MA: From my cousin’s records. My dad didn’t like boogie-woogie. He loved stride. He was locked into the Fats Waller thing. I liked Albert Ammons.
JW: Did you take piano lessons? MA: Yes, starting at age 5. I took lessons for a few
years at Miss Etta Oliver’s just across the creek. Then I started picking up things off the jukebox, learning to play by ear. So I quit taking lessons. I didn’t learn to read music that well anyway.
JW: You played trumpet professionally first, didn’t you? MA: Yes. I learned trumpet in high school.
JW: Where did you play your first public performance? MA: At Charleston High School in Mississippi. I played Fats Waller’s Hold Tight, as a boogie-woogie. But I didn’t win.
JW: Who did? MA: The guy who played Washington and Lee Swing on the fiddle [laughs].
JW: What did you do after high school? MA: I attended the University of Mississippi for a couple of semesters. Then I joined the Army in 1946 with two friends. I was going to be drafted anyhow. I went into the infantry. I
was going to be shipped abroad, so we were sent to Seattle by troop train. My duffel bag was all packed and ready. But then Congress passed a law that said a soldier couldn’t be sent overseas if he had less than 10 weeks of basic training. I had less than that. I was discharged in 1947.
JW: What did you do after you got out? MA: I went back to Ole Miss. I was studying mechanical drawing and chemical engineering. But I didn’t last long. Analytical geometry stumped me pretty good [laughs].
JW: What did you do? MA: I left Ole Miss and went on the road, playing trumpet with a couple of friends.
JW: Did you make it to Memphis? MA: Yes. Before I left Ole Miss, I headed up there.
I knew Bill Harvey, B.B. King’s first musical director. He got me to sit in with the band that warmed up the audience before B.B. came on stage. In Memphis, I met black players and white players. I used to go to jam sessions.
JW: What did you do after leaving college in 1951? MA: I went up to New York to have a look at New York University and check out the jazz scene. NYU was so different than the schools down South. For one, there was
no campus there. The college was all buildings. There was no portico, no lawns, no trees. As for jazz, no one was working at the time. So I went home.
JW: Who was your biggest singing and composing inspiration at this point? MA: I had heard Charles Brown, Muddy Waters and so forth. I also loved Nat King Cole.
JW: Then what happened? MA: I met my wife and got married. She urged me to
resume my studies so I enrolled at Louisiana State University. I took courses in esthetics. That’s what opened me up. I had a book called Principles of Art by R.G. Collingwood. It opened my eyes to the fact that some of the stuff that I had been listening to all my life was actually art.
JW: Your trumpet was stolen in a Philadelphia nightclub? MA: Yes, an old, lacquer one. I liked it a lot. But after it was stolen, I never bothered to get a new one. My decision to concentrate on the piano instead was economic and esthetic [laughs].
JW: By 1956, you had begun to record. MA: Yes, with Al Cohn and Bob Brookmeyer. Then I started writing the Back Country Suite. I knew how to write music. I could write single lines and
things, and could make charts. Later, I arranged an album for Columbia Records called Hello There, Universe in 1969.
JW: Back in 1956, how did you start working with Al Cohn? MA: That’s a funny story. I met Marilyn Moore, Al’s wife at the time, in Galveston, Texas, in 1955. I was working a gig down
there with a girl singer. Al’s wife was there on vacation. She heard me and liked what she heard. She said that if I ever came to New York that I should get in touch with Al. So when I moved up with my wife and young daughter in 1956, I did.
JW: What happened? MA: I contacted Al, and he had me right out to his house in Flushing, Queens. He gave me some pointers on how to write. I was finally a New Yorker. My wife and I and our daughter moved into an apartment on 103rd St., right off Central Park.
Tomorrow, Mose talks about making a name for himself in New York and his tours of Great Britain.
JazzWax tracks: Mose's superb early works are on Prestige.
His excellent leadership dates for the label include Back Country Suite (1957),Local Color (1957), Young Man Mose (1958), Ramblin' with Mose (1958), Creek Bank (1958) and Autumn Song (1959). You can sample these at iTunes or by clicking on the links above to Amazon. If you're looking for a Mose starter, go with Creek Bank. For a mind-blower, dig what he does with Cabin in the Sky.
JazzWax clip: Here's one of my favorites by Mose, Willie Dixon's The Seventh Son, off of Creek Bank. Caution, Mose gets mighty addictive fast...
Driving south out of Memphis on I-55 last Wednesday, I popped
on Jerry Lee Lewis' new CD, Mean Old Man. Officially released yesterday, the album is a tour de force of little-known country and rock songs featuring Lewis on piano accompanied by a who's who of guests, including Mick Jagger, Merle Haggard, John Fogerty, Mavis Staples, Ringo Starr and others. As I sped along with the music blasting, I
couldn't help but marvel at how cool it was to be listening to the music of the guy I was about to visit. My interview with the rock 'n' roll legend last week appears in today's national edition of the Wall Street Journal and is online here.
When I arrived at Jerry Lee's 45-acre ranch in Nesbit, Miss., I encountered a large gate similar to the one at Elvis Presley's
Graceland—except Jerry Lee's has a steel image of a baby-grand piano on it. After the gate slid open, I drove up to the house that Jerry Lee had purchased in 1972. As I climbed out of my rental car, I was met by Phoebe Lewis, Jerry Lee's daughter, manager and album producer [pictured].
After exchanging pleasantries, Phoebe gave me a tour of the upstairs, which included a look at the old Stark upright piano [pictured] that Jerry Lee's parents had bought after hearing him play his aunt's piano at age 8.
The piano's keys were a haunted mess—some up, some down, some halfway down and all missing the white ivories thanks to Jerry Lee's young sewing-needle hands hammering away on them. My goodness, there I was staring at one of the instruments that launched rock 'n' roll and touching the notes reverentially. I also met Judith Brown, Phoebe's aunt, who keeps an eye on Jerry Lee and whose smile is as big as a Georgia moon.
To the uninitiated, Jerry Lee Lewis is a crazed piano player from the back woods who emerged in the late 1950s to score a few hits, married his 13-year-old cousin and found his career
derailed in 1958 when the British media caught wind of his nuptials. True, Jerry Lee is from a rural part of Louisiana. And true, he did marry his 13-year-old second cousin (they were married for 13 years and Phoebe is his daughter from that marriage).
But Jerry Lee is much more than a mere piano pounder. He's one hell of a boogie-woogie pianist, a natural with a photographic
memory, which means he knows the melodies and lyrics to hundreds of songs despite not being able to read a lick of music. Self-taught, he had only one formal lesson, a brief encounter that led to a whack by his teacher after he cracked smart about playing scales.
As a teen, Jerry Lee practiced up to 13 hours a day, taking on the boogie-woogie records he heard on the radio and the blues and r&b he heard performed live after sneaking into Haney's Big House, a club in his hometown of Ferriday, La. There was something about a piano that sent Jerry Lee into a frantic trance, causing him to play as though possessed.
By the time he began to have major hits on Sun Records in 1957, Lewis was already the first-call studio pianist for the label. If Elvis' gimmick was the hip wiggle and leg wobble, Jerry Lee's thing
was hitting the piano keys with a fury so passionate that eventually his carefully combed hair would flop down in front of his face. Presley loved Jerry Lee's playing and routinely asked him to drive the half hour north to Graceland just to hear him play. Elvis' favorite was Jerry Lee's You Win Again.
But Jerry Lee was much more than a piano player. His on-stage intensity and off-stage wild streak made him a role model for every major rock star who followed in his
footsteps. Little Richard and Chuck Berry may have launched sexually charged rock 'n' roll in 1955 and Elvis certainly popularized it in 1956. But it was Jerry Lee's smoldering act in 1957 and wild-man behavior that John Lennon, Mick Jagger and others admired and embraced to advance their own careers and stand out. Rock was emotional, high-strung music, and Jerry Lee had it just about right. Audiences responded.
One more truth: Jerry Lee isn't really a rocker. He's much more than that. Those who know Jerry Lee's
music recognize that there's a lot of country shouter in him, which is why he's the unintentional father of rebel-rock and country-r&b. After his career foundered in the early 1960s and the British Invasion began in 1964, Jerry Lee's earnings collapsed and he wound up playing juke joints across the South. Then in 1968, he switched from rock to country and had a string of top country hits. What you hear in Jerry Lee's country voice and country piano are rainy Southern nights, whiskey neat and closing time.
When Jerry Lee appeared in his living room last Wednesday afternoon, he was in a pair of burgundy pajamas with gold stripes and dark slippers. He's not the hare he once was, but his midday slumber-wear had more to do with relaxing before his jam-packed September schedule was to begin this week.
Here's a taste of our conversation:
JazzWax: How in the world did you go from taking one piano lesson to being a boogie-woogie virtuoso? Jerry Lee Lewis: I wonder that myself [laughs]. I just
taught myself everything I know. I heard other piano players, of course, but I didn't pay much attention to them. I just loved boogie-woogie and the blues. And I practiced hard.
JW: There's a lot of improvising in the songs you play. I don't think you've ever played a song the same way twice. JLL: No, never. I always do it different. That's true of any song I ever played.
JW: You even seem to take pleasure in fooling your musicians by going up a scale or down, or ending on an uneven note—the opposite of what's expected. JLL: Yeah, I like to keep them guessing [laughing]. It's all about keeping people on edge. That's where the excitement is.
JW: Your music is so different than even the songs of your contemporaries—the unrestrained piano playing, the
heartfelt blues and tricky improvisation. Your music is so... unpasteurized. JLL: That's what Elvis said [laughing]! He did. When I was up at Graceland, he'd tell everyone in the room, "This guy is a genius!"
JW: Do you like listening to yourself play? It must be fun. JLL: Yeah, it is. I delight myself by what comes out. Sometimes, of course, I don't feel like playing at all. But that's rare.
JW: When I see video clips of you, the expression on
your face tells me you're far, far away. Where are you at those moments? JLL: Yeah, I'm someplace where no one can get at me. It's another world there.
JW: I suspect you wouldn't be as convincing if you weren't in that zone. JLL: That's true. Each year, we have "Memphis in May" up in Memphis. It's a music festival. All the tip-top musicians are there. And they can't wait for me to go on. They wait and wait and then gather 'round.
JW: I can't think of too many rock or country musicians who love music as much as you do. JLL: It's all about the music, my entire life. When I'm
playing, I'm preaching through my hands, with the music. I guess that's why they call it "devil's music" when I play [laughs].
JW: But it's not really. It's music from the heart that moves people. JLL: You're right about that. I'm singing and playing for everyone, but I'm also doing it for people who really understand the blues and the words. All of my songs are stories. Either you have experience with what I'm singing or you don't. Either way, the beat sweeps you up. But if you truly get the words and what I'm putting into it, then you are getting something really special.
JW: Does the intensity of your playing shock you sometimes? JLL: [Laughs]People have always thought that what I do is an act. It's not really. I'm just so deeply into it, the music comes out that
way. If you want to move an audience, you have to be able to do that. It's hard to do but you have to get there. When I come on, I'm aiming to take control of the audience and work them into a frenzy. They're expecting it. It's the music that does it because music is pure. When I'm performing, I'm telling, I'm not asking. It's a different approach.
JW: And before long, the piano is behaving like a train. Do you feel like you're driving the piano or playing it? JLL: [Laughs] Both. Whoo, whoo [laughs].
After our hour-long conversation, I asked Jerry Lee if he'd sit down at the piano to show me how he uses his hands to make
his signature runs up and down the keyboard. He did and the result was fascinating. Then he launched into a short boogie-woogie. The experience for me was exhilarating. Now that was some piano lesson.
Just before Jerry Lee retired to his room and Phoebe graciously cut me a slice of homemade peach pie, Jerry Lee and I shook hands again. As we did, he looked at me in the eye and said, "Thank ya Killer for making the time to come out." Wow. The Killer just called me Killer.
JazzWax tracks:Mean Old Man is a tremendous album that
any jazz listener will love. The mix and fidelity are sterling, the singing is from the heart and the song selection is perfectly offbeat and strong.
Dig the title track, Mean Old Man, with Ronnie Wood. Or Rockin' My Life Away with Kid Rock and Slash. Dead Flowers with Mick Jagger is an album high point (one can only hope an entire album of Jerry Lee-Jagger duets will be forthcoming).
Other gems include Sweet Virginia with Keith Richards and Will the Circle Be Unbroken with Mavis Staples, Robbie Robertson and Nils Lofgren. Aw heck, every single track on this thing is as authentic as they come.
There's a 10-track version here and a 19-track deluxe version here. Do yourself a favor and buy the deluxe version. It's only a few bucks more, but I promise you won't be sorry. Both also are available at iTunes.
JazzWax clips: Here are three of my favorite Jerry Lee Lewis clips:
The first is from 1964, in the U.K., featuring Jerry Lee singing Elvis' favorite, You Win Again...
Here's Jerry Lee in 1983 in London singing and playing Sweet Georgia Brown. Dig the speed of those hands...
And here's Jerry Lee in London in 1989 singing Rockin' My Life Away...
Marc Myers writes frequently on music and the arts for the Wall Street Journal. He is author of "Why Jazz Happened" (University of California Press). In 2012, JazzWax was named the Jazz Journalists Association's "Blog of the Year."
