When Elvis Presley was inducted into the Army in March 1958 and deployed to the 1st Medium Tank Battalion, 32nd Armor, 3rd Armored Division in West Germany, his absence created a rock vacuum. With the King in uniform, other worthy recording artists were poised to command a larger share of the limelight. Rockers-in-waiting included the Everly Brothers, Buddy Holly and the Crickets, Ritchie Valens and Eddie Cochran.
But when Holly and Valens died in February 1959 and Cochran [pictured] died the following year, the tragedies put country-rock's development on hold—until Presley's return from the service in March 1960.
Now Presley's post-Army recordings—Elvis Is Back! (1960) and Something for Everybody (1961)—have just been remastered and reissued in one CD set. What makes these recordings special is the eclectic nature of their contents and the vulnerability and maturity of Presley's superb baritone.
Some readers of this blog may debate Presley's true value and his impact on jazz. But at the end of the day his voice remains richer, deeper and warmer than most vocalists of the period. These recordings truly speak for themselves, and they make for fine listening. Hear them for yourself.
On Elvis is Back!, Presley recorded in a wide range of styles. There's the jazzy and heated rendition of Fever, which certainly rivals Peggy Lee's. His Soldier Boy is a penetrating doo-wop execution. The twangy It Feels So Right is pure country. A Mess of Blues harkens back to his golden 1956-57 formula. And Are You Lonesome Tonight channels the Ink Spots.
Something for Everybody continues Presley's drive to win back as wide an audience as possible following his military service. There's a good dose of hushed ballads (It's a Sin, There's Always Me and Gently) as well as country-flavored rockers such as Judy, I'm Coming Home and I Want You With Me.
The set also includes five remastered hit singles from the period—including two highly overlooked pre-Beatles rockers: Little Sister and Good Luck Charm.
Both albums in this set were recorded at RCA's famed Studio B in Nashville and included guitarist Hank Garland [pictured], pianist Floyd Cramer and saxophonist Boots Randolph—musicians who in 1960 also discovered and encouraged vibist Gary Burton.
By the end of 1961, Presley had re-established himself as rock's pre-eminent crooner and balladeer. And he did so by recording in almost every single style imaginable.
JazzWax tracks:Elvis Is Back! and Something for Everybody is available remastered in a two-CD set (Sony/Legacy) at iTunes or here.
JazzWax clip:Here'sIt Feels So Right from Elvis is Back!...
"[In 1950, when I was in Benny Goodman's Sextet], Benny used to bug me every time I would start to play my jazz choruses. He would let me play for about eight bars, and if I started swinging, he'd immediately pick up his clarinet and join me in playing. But first he'd put his cigarette down on the edge of my vibes and then start playing with me.
"The fist time I saw him do that, I stopped him and said, 'Hey, Benny, this is no toy. These are my own vibes. Please take your cigarette off of there.' He said, 'Oh, I'm sorry, Pops.' It came time for me to play again, and when it started to swing, he put his cigarette back on my vibes so he could join me again. This time I pushed it off and it fell on the floor.
"He must have done that about 20 times. When he stopped playing, he always looked for the cigarette on the vibes, saw that it wasn't there, and lit another cigarette, never realizing that the first one was on the floor. By the end of the rehearsal, there must have been 200 cigarettes on the floor. He kept putting them out and I kept pushing them off...
"On one of our days off from the show, I had Art Blakey, Teddy Kotick and Billy Triglia over to my funky apartment for a jam session. While we were jamming, the phone rang. It was Benny. 'Hey Gubenko, what's happening?' Benny loved my last name Gubenko. 'Hey Gubenko, what are you doing?' I said, 'I'm having a jam session.' He said, 'Where?' He's calling me at my house and he asks me where. 'Where? At my house!' He said, 'I'll come over, sit in and jam with you.' I said great, gave him the address and hung up. I thought, he's not going to come over to my house and jam with us. Not Benny Goodman.
"About an hour and a half later, we saw a cab pull up in front of the apartment house and Benny stepped out. He came in and I introduced him to everybody. We talked for a little while. Everyone was in awe of him. I think they were all calling him Mr. Goodman, and even though I introduced them by their names, he still called everybody 'Pops.'
"While we were jamming I could see that he didn't like Art Blakey at all. Art was too hard of a swinger, too savage a drummer for him. Benny loved the Louie Bellson [pictured] kind of drummer. Louis had a very clean style of playing. Everything Art did was raw and roaring. Art Blakey could swing you right off the stage, but he wasn't Benny's type of a drummer.
"After they all left, Benny said to me, 'Say, Gubenko, that drummer. Do you really like that drummer?' I said, 'Yeah, he plays very good.' Then he looked around at my funky apartment with that foggy look, saw all the holes in the wall and said, 'Say Gubenko, you ought to get yourself a new apartment.' I said, 'You know, I'm looking for one, Benny.' He said, 'I may have something for you.' I didn't pay any attention to what he said.
We did about two or three more shows, and two weeks went by. I was back home one day, sitting around, and I got a call. It was Benny. 'Hey, Gubenko, I think I have an apartment for you.' I said, 'Really?' I wasn't really looking for one, I said. 'What does it look like?' He said, 'It's five rooms.' Here I was, living in a place where I wasn't sure I even had a bathroom. 'Five rooms? What's it going to cost me?' He said, "Oh, only $500 a month.' I said, 'You idiot, you're only paying me $75 dollars a week!' Benny said, 'I am?' and he hung up on me."
—Terry Gibbs in Good Vibes: A Life in Jazz (The Scarecrow Press). It's available here.
Well, it doesn't get much better than this—being awarded the National Medal of Arts by the President of the United States on March 2. Of course, being named a Kennedy Center Honoree this year would certainly be icing on the cake for Sonny Rollins. The tenor saxophonist was awarded the prestigious medal along with Quincy Jones at the White House.
Sonny, 80, is one of the last performing links to the start of post-war jazz and a musician who has played and recorded with everyone who was anyone for more than 60 years. Quincy Jones, of course, remains a significant force and his recording career dates back to Lionel Hampton in 1951.
It is a joy, finally, to see legendary jazz musicians receive such an honor and to be celebrated for their enormous contribution to our culture and collective spirit.
Through music, Sonny and Jones also gave the Civil Rights movement enormous momentum. Like great black athletes of the late 1940s and early 1950s, gifted and popular black jazz artists went far to make the music race-neutral and to make whites more tolerant of differences. Without the joy of jazz on record and the radio, the struggle for racial equality would likely have been a harder sell and a longer struggle.
Congratulations to Sonny and Quincy Jones. Seeing the photo at the top of the page takes my breath away.
You weren't invited to the White House? Here's President Obama awarding the medals to this year's recipients...
Charlie Parker. If you're in New York March 10 through April 3, Cool Blues, a play written by Bill Harris about alto saxophonist Charlie Parker in 1955, is being staged at the New Federal Theater at 292 Henry Street on the Lower East Side. Tickets for performances, directed by Ed Smith, are $25. More information: 212-353-1176.
Ave Pilas, a photographer at Downbeat in the 1960s, sent along a link to his site. Lots of great candid photos of jazz legends here.
CD discovery of the week. Bassist Ark Ovrutski merges jazz and samba perfectly on Sounds of Brasil. There's a steamy mood here that rises and falls like fast-changing weather. The use of flutes on Song for My Mom, for example, transfixes you. Samba in 4th, with Duduka Da Fonseca on drums and percussion, builds neatly with enormous drive. Be sure to sample S.O.B., where you'll hear a fabulous sifting of reeds, bass and surfy brushes on drums. You'll find this one here.
Oddball album cover of the week: Back before slide rules, diorama clubs and social networks, there were basement parties where teens dressed up in their parents' clothes and did weird things to white socks as they danced to LPs that older people threw away. This EmArcy album from 1955 featured den-burners like Sweet Sue, Blue Lou and Prisoner's Song. Please pass the punch.
Here's another one of Betty's fabulous snapshots, sent to me by Chris. It's Gene Krupa in 1945 outside New York's Capitol Theatre, which was at 1645 Broadway just north of Times Square. The theater was built by Thomas Lamb and had 4,000 seats. The woman behind Krupa's shoulder appears to be seeking the autograph of a bandmember. Assuming it's summer based on Krupa's light jacket, the signer could be vocalist Buddy Stewart or tenor saxophonist Charlie Ventura or alto saxophonist Johnny Bothwell. I tried to research Helen's Candy Kitchen in the background but came up empty. Dig those overly long and baggy suit-jacket sleeves!
Want more JazzSnaps? Go to the right-hand column of JazzWax and scroll down to "JazzSnaps" for links."
One of my favorite Thelonious Monk sessions took place on May 30, 1952, his last for Blue Note Records. There's a slippery urgency to the pianist's playing on this date, and the sidemen are both bluesy and martini dry. Joining Monk were Kenny Dorham (trumpet), Lou Donaldson (alto sax), Lucky Thompson (tenor sax), Nelson Boyd (bass) and Max Roach (drums). For the time, the music was beyond revolutionary and made when Monk was particularly exuberant and creatively subversive. [Photo of Thelonious Monk by William P. Gottlieb]
The May 1952 session came after a tough period for Monk. Back in August 1951, Monk had been visiting with his mother when pianist Bud Powell turned up with a man and a woman Monk didn't know. The quartet went out to the woman's car, to avoid disturbing Monk's mother. Soon, two narcotics officers showed up, and Powell flipped a glassine envelope that landed at Monk's feet.
The car's inhabitants were arrested. Powell went to a psychiatric ward, the woman was released and the man was held over since he was on bail at the time for a similar crime. Monk faced the charges solo, refusing to dime on Powell, and spent 60 days in New York's Riker's Island.
After Monk was released, he was professionally idle for several months but busy writing new music. According to Robin D.G. Kelley in Thelonious Monk: The Life and Times of an American Original:
"Nellie [Monk's wife] continued to work every day while Monk stayed home with Toot [their child], keeping house, writing music, and working with the parade of musicians who would drop by the apartment.
" 'When he wasn't working regularly,' Nellie explained, 'he'd be working at home, writing and rehearsing bands that didn't have the prospects of a dog... In the un-years, as I call them, as far as he was concerned, he felt just as confident as he does now that what he was doing musically could appeal to other people if they only took the opportunity to listen.' "
In May 1952, Blue Note's Alfred Lion hired Monk to record The Genius of Modern Music Vol. 2. By then, bebop had settled into a commercial groove, a self-searching period, if you will. Charlie Parker was recording American songbook classics for Norman Granz, Dizzy Gillespie was in Paris making records with strings, James Moody was back in New York recording with bop vocalist Babs Gonzales and Miles Davis was experimenting with different configurations of his All Stars.
In addition, King Pleasure was riding high with a vocalese version of Moody's I'm in the Mood for Love. Ironically, it would be the runaway success of Pleasure's hit that provided Prestige owner Bob Weinstock with sufficient cash to sign Monk and two other new musicians to his label soon after Monk's May recording date for Blue Note.
What does all of this mean? For Monk in May 1952, the artistic field was wide open, and he easily dominated. As you'll hear, Monk demonstrates handily on this date that he was the most creative force on the scene, twisting and turning music the way a blacksmith might fashion hot horseshoes.
On the last Sunday in May, the proto-hardbop sextet met at WOR Studios and recorded six sides—four of which were new compositions. Skippy was based on the chord changes to Tea for Two and was named after Nellie's sister. Hornin' In was a minor medium-tempo walker with an impossible melody line, and Sixteen was named for the song's 16-bar AABA structure. [Photo of Thelonious Monk by William P. Gottlieb]
Let's Cool One was named for a phrase favored by Harlem disc jockey and entertainer Ralph Cooper. Carolina Moon and I'll Follow You (without horns) also were recorded that day.
The result wasn't bop but something much more angular. Monk's passion for inside-out melody lines works to inspire Dorham, Donaldson and Thompson, with Roach playing more traditional bop polyrhythms.
Just listening to Hornin' In makes hairs stand on end as you realize how impossibly difficult the piece must have been to play. Seven takes were needed, and on one flawless attempt (the fifth), the ruinous error is made by bassist Boyd. Thrown by the rugged melody, he plays two additional notes alone at the end.
When Boyd makes this error, you sense his sheepishness, as though he stepped off a cliff in a cartoon, pausing mid-air to look down and gulp before dropping. One can only assume the hell that was raised when they had to re-record that song again after such a magnificent execution.
Monk's music is enveloping. Many people praise the pianist but in truth resist putting on his albums, largely because of the emotional taxation. His piano work refuses to be background music and always commands your attention. But once Monk is on, I get into the swing of things and find it hard to switch off of him. Monk stimulates many different parts of my brain that seem reserved only for him. [Photo of Thelonious Monk by William P. Gottlieb]
On May 30, 1952, Monk was captured feeling free—in more ways than one.
JazzWax tracks: You'll find Thelonious Monk: Genius of Modern Music Vol. 2 (Blue Note) at iTunes or here.
JazzWax clip: Here'sHornin' In, the fifth take, with Boyd's error at the end. Also in the beginning, is it me or does Monk's intro sounds a lot like the basis for Oscar Peterson's intro to Something's Coming from West Side Story? At any rate, listen how Monk's melody line sounds like shattered glass. Fascinating stuff...
If you've ever been down South and driven the Interstates shoulder to shoulder with eight-wheelers or stopped for a chicken lunch and sweet tea at a diner filled with locals, then you surely already appreciate the soul of Johnny Cash. If you haven't done any of this, Cash will leave an impression on you if you give him a chance.
Unlike Elvis Presley, Carl Perkins, Jerry Lee Lewis or the other rockers who came out of Memphis in the mid-1950s and went city, Cash was an odd duck. The singer-songwriter and balladeer was less concerned about knocking out the girls and more determined to tell the rural stories of farm hands, trains crossing green mountains and shoeless country boys. In the final analysis, Cash was and remains one of this country's finest romantic folk singers. He was also among the most prolific, writing about 1,000 songs.
As proof, give a listen to Johnny Cash: Bootleg Vol. 2, a new double-CD set form Sony/Legacy. Like Bootleg Vol 1: Personal File, this set is comprised of material from Cash's own archives in Hendersonville, Tenn. There are demos, studio outtakes, radio ads by Cash, and singles that never appeared on LPs. Many of the more than 50 tracks feature Cash with just his guitar, glossy baritone and penetrating lyrics. There are 16 never issued recordings and 11 singles and outtakes released digitally for the first time.
The art of Cash's songwriting was in its stark simplicity. In many cases, his craft was so unashamedly plain that you can guess in advance the word he's going to sing to rhyme with a previous line. What sold these lines was Cash's poetic honesty and vulnerability. Here are the words he strung together for the opening to You're My Baby, a demo from this new set that unfortunately does not bear a recording date:
Hey you got hair
Long and black
Hanging down in the middle of your back
Don't you cut it off, whatever you do
I need it to run my fingers through, cause
You're my baby...
While most folk singers of the '50s revived the tradition of singing passionately on behalf of the poor and oppressed, Cash was somewhat different. For him, everyday life in general presented hardships and challenges that required a gentle voice and expression. Cash's genius for making folk music about average people wasn't lost on Bob Dylan. In his liner notes, Ashley Kahn quotes Dylan:
"I Walk the Line had a monumental presence and a certain type of majesty that was humbling. Even a simple line like 'I find it very, very easy to be true' can take your measure. We can remember that and see how far we fall short of it. Johnny wrote thousands of lines like that. Truly, he is what the land and country are all about, the heart and soul of it personified and what it means to be here; and he said it all in plain English."
Jazz fans especially will identify with Cash's tenderness and determination on this CD set. There's nothing fancy here. Just lilting melodies and a big sky voice that relaxes you with reason and resonance. If you've long thought of Cash as a country singer whose style and songs have little to do with your life, I'd encourage you to give this set a listen. You will certainly learn a few things about Cash—and probably yourself.
JazzWax tracks: You can sample Johnny Cash: Bootleg Vol. 2 at iTunes or here. The two-CD set is selling for $9.99.
JazzWax clip: Here'sBig River, an unreleased Sun single from November 1957, and Thunderball from 1965...
As modern as Stan Kenton was in 1950, he wasn't modern enough for Shorty Rogers. Rogers, like many members of Kenton's band at the time, was a big fan of Count Basie and his orchestra's dynamic ability to swing hard. While Kenton was obsessed with modern classical music in 1950, Rogers and others like Bud Shank, Art Pepper, Shelly Manne and Bob Cooper wanted a hipper sound that merged the blues feel and swing of the East Coast with the cool, linear harmony of the West Coast.
So in the fall of 1950, Rogers formed a band that someone wittily named "the Giants." The group was really a holding company, of sorts. Unlike touring bands led by Basie, Duke Ellington, Benny Goodman and other stars that retained the same personnel, Rogers chose his Giants based on who happened to be available. In this regard, the Giants was a prefabricated unit that could be broken down into small groups like sextets, octets and nonets or built up to form a large, towering orchestra.
The first Giants session was a nonet that Rogers assembled to back vocalist June Christy in September 1950 (the A Mile Down the Highway session). Unlike Miles Davis' nonet in New York and Dave Brubeck's octet in San Francisco, Rogers' group wasn't interested in modern classical theory. Instead, the Giants was a smooth blending of horns that was akin to a barbershop vocal group—except with instruments. Kenton's brassy bluster wasn't Rogers' model, but Woody Herman's tightly voiced reeds and lyrical horns was.
Early on, Rogers kept his Giants compact. He had that luxury, since he had a gift for arranging small groups so they'd sound twice or three times their size. In March 1953, Rogers finally assembled a bona fide big band and recorded Cool & Crazy for RCA. There was plenty of swing and powerful brass. But in the middle of it all, Rogers would solo in the simplest, most melodic terms. It was almost as if he had purposely started a riot so he could come in a play peacemaker. That was certainly one way to stand out.
In 1957, Rogers began using a big band again. Perhaps one of the finest Giants recordings of this period was Portrait of Shorty, which was recorded in July 1957. By then, most of the best musicians in Hollywood were no longer attached to bands. They were making a fortune freelancing in recording and movie studios, and had become highly polished. The band on Portrait of Shorty is a staggering group of mighty West Coast muisicans, and the trumpet section alone is frightening:
Shorty Rogers (tp,flhrn) Al Porcino, Conrad Gozzo, Don Fagerquist, Conte Candoli, Pete Candoli (tp) Frank Rosolino, George Roberts, Harry Betts, Bob Enevoldsen (tb) Herb Geller (as,ts) Richie Kamuca, Jack Montrose, Bill Holman (ts) Pepper Adams (bar) Lou Levy (p) Monty Budwig (b) Stan Levey (d).
Gone is the mannered writing of earlier Giants bands. Here, Rogers maintains his signature voicings and steady build. But he also has no trouble throwing it into sixth gear, letting the band wail, grow soft and offer swinging, searing solos. The big addition from a tonal standpoint is Pepper Adams, who adds a solid seal bark in the reed section.
Every single track is outfitted with distinct West Coast sensibility, ambitious swing and Hermanite harmonies on a grand scale. Saturnian Sleigh Ride is a layered piece that continuously rises and plateaus. Martian's Lullaby is smoothly sculpted, with lines sliding in and out like screen walls. Or dig the long fanfare introduction to Play! Boy. And Bluezies is a barn burner that features Herb Geller and Pepper Adams going at it.
Portrait of Shorty is about as good as the West Coast jazz sound gets—cocky, harmonious and as wide open as a convertible. So who painted the portrait on the cover of Portrait of Shorty? Sergei Bongart [pictured], a Russian painter who settled in Los Angeles. According to the album's liner notes, Bongart painted Rogers' image "as an artist inspired by an artist."
JazzWax tracks:You can find a copy of the CD here. Or it's available at iTunes for $5.99.
A special JazzWax thanks to James Harrod and David Langner. For more on Sergei Bongart, go here.
JazzWax clip:Here's Shorty Rogers on flugelhorn in a scene from the Peter Gunn TV series, featuring vocalist Lola Albright. "Hiya Shorty!"
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."
