For years, if you wanted a documentary on Stan Kenton, you were pretty much out of luck. You either had to find DVDs that included clips of the band over the years or you scrounged around YouTube hoping someone put up something fresh. Now Graham Carter at Jazzed Media has produced and directed Stan Kenton, Artistry in Rhythm: Portrait of a Jazz Legend. The new DVD offers a biographical look at the bandleader and his many orchestras through narration, musician interviews and rare footage, photos and promotional materials.
Though the DVD is a tad long (its running time is close to two hours) and the narration hits flat spots at times (even main talking head Ken Poston of the Los Angeles Jazz Institute appears to run out of gas after a while), the result remains a fabulous document that will more than satisfy hardcore Kentonians and offer the curious a strong sense of what made the bandleader special.
After opening on a Kenton concert from the 1970s, the documentary goes back in time to the beginning, when Kenton was just getting started in California. The DVD is divided neatly by Kenton's different bands: the Early Years (1937-43), Artistry in Rhythm (1943-47), Progressive Jazz (1947-48), Innovations in Modern Music (1950-51), Contemporary Concepts (1955-59) and so on.
What you learn along the way is that Kenton was disliked by critics early on (Leonard Feather referred to him as "Can't Stand Him"); radio played a big role in the band's emergence in 1941; Capitol's early signing with the musicians' union in 1943 during the recording ban gave Kenton an advantage; Kai Winding transformed the trombone section with elongated notes; commercial hits like Tampico allowed Pete Rugolo to arrange the more modern instrumentals; Kenton went broke funding his 43-musician Innovations orchestra, and Al Porcino and Mel Lewis were instrumental in convincing Kenton to scrap the stuffy Euro-jazz efforts in '50 and '51, and swing again. And this takes you just halfway through the documentary. [Photo of Kai Winding by William P. Gotlieb/Library of Congress]
The DVD is loaded with interviews, including on-screen appearances by Howard Rumsey, Bill Holman [pictured] and Eddie Bert as well as lesser-known Kenton alums. Tremendous film and photo research went into this DVD. Your screen is almost constantly occupied by little known clips and images of the bands. There's even a bio clip of Kenton standing on the empty lot where the Rendezvous Ballroom in Balboa, Calif., used to stand.
Graham Carter is to be commended for a tireless effort to interview top surviving Kenton talent and providing fans with a documentary worthy of the bandleader. This is an orchestra!
JazzWax tracks: You'll find Stan Kenton, Artistry in Rhythm: Portrait of a Jazz Legend (Jazzed Media) here.
JazzWax clip:Here's Stan Kenton and his orchestra with Eddie Safranski on bass in 1946 performing Southern Scandal...
Randy Wood, founder of Dot Records died last week at age 94. Depending on whom you ask, Wood was either the most blatant exploiter of black r&b or the shrewdest r&b leverage specialist. The truth is he was probably both.
Dot's formula in the '50s was to have white male artists like Pat Boone cover singles by black artists for mass market appeal. Before Motown, the gimmick worked, and Dot had hit after hit, often topping the originals in chart placement and sales. Some black artists found this strategy reprehensible while others found imitation the sincerest form of flattery, especially when Dot's singles brought fresh attention to their own versions.
However you categorize Wood and Dot's exploits in the '50s, the label did record quite a few good jazz albums. Among them were Count Basie's Straight Ahead, Pete and Conte Candoli's The Brothers Candoli, Eddie Costa's House of Blue Lights and Buddy DeFranco and Nelson Riddle's Cross Country Suite.
JazzWax Insider. The April issue is being prepared for release as I write this post. To receive your copy of this free, monthly e-newsletter featuring items that didn't fit in daily JazzWax posts, you simply have to sign up for it here.
Take 6 Million. Doug Ramsey, award-winning Rifftides blogger and author of Take Five: The Public and Private Lives of Paul Desmond, featured a particularly fascinating post on Friday. Doug detailed the royalties earned by Desmond's Take Five since the alto saxophonist's death in 1977 and where they have gone. Go here.
Greetings from Ethiopia. JazzWax reader Arefe Fantahun is a blogger in Addis Ababa, Ethiopia, who writes on jazz. Thanks to the Internet, the world keeps shrinking as jazz and jazz recordings continue to become the universal language of like-minded, joyous, kind and fun-loving people everywhere. Sometimes I feel like JazzWax is hosting one giant global jazz picnic. [Pictured: Drummer Teferi Assefa] To read Arefe's blog, go here.
Robben Ford. In the wake of my review of Wynton Marsalis and Eric Clapton's concert last week, JazzWax reader Stephen Feldman sent along a clip of blues guitarist Robben Ford [pictured]. If you're unfamiliar, dig this.
B.B. King. I thought I'd throw my own hat into the blues ring with this one featuring B.B. King at New York's Sing Sing prison. He performed there in 1972 with Joan Baez. Go here.
Matt Dennis. Here's a clip of the singer-composer-pianist in The Bigamist (1953) with Ida Lupino and Edmond O'Brien. Call me crazy, but I think Lupino could have done a bit better, no?...
Paul Weston. As many readers know, I totally dig Paul Weston's band arrangements. Here'sLinda with Matt Dennis backed by Weston's orchestra in the late '40s. Catch Weston's yawning reeds at the end with the double-timing trumpets. What did Weston look like? Here's the answer (sorry the voice and image are out of sync). Be sure to hook your ear to Weston's arrangement as Jo Stafford sings...
Lena Adasheva. Jazz photographer and new New Yorker Lena Adasheva is interviewed by Bret Primack, the Jazz Video Guy, here...
Manny Albam radio. Jazz musician, writer and educator Bill Kirchner hosts Jazz From the Archives tonight on New York's WBGO. His focus will be the great arranger Manny Albam in a variety of settings. Tune in on your computer from anywhere in the world at 11 p.m. (EDT). Go here.
Rockabilly. Ed Leimbacher, host of the blog I Witness, has a fabulous post this week on Rockabilly—the early '50s fusion of rock 'n' roll and country. Go here.
JazzOnline. A relatively new site JazzOnline.com is offering a one-stop shop for jazz surfers by featuring excerpts from many different jazz blogs and sites. Go here.
Roger Singer. Poet Roger Singer sent along a link to his online works at the Outlaw Poetry Network. Go here.
CD discoveries of the week. One of the smartest vocal albums that has crossed my desk this year is Charito's Heal the World. In an earlier music world—when radio mattered more—this album would be a huge adult-contemporary hit. In today's environment, however, it's anyone's guess. So I'm telling you, this album is fabulous. Charito is a vocalist with honey-pure intonation. Here she covers songs made famous by Michael Jackson. No joke. While Jackson certainly brought a certain electricity to everything he took on, Charito actually turns these works into gorgeous torch songs. This is jazz at its best—finding new standards and providing heartfelt, high-quality interpretations. Hats off to producer and drummer Harvey Mason. Sample Rock With You, Man in the Mirror, Human Nature and Never Can Say Goodbye. Trust me, these songs will all have new meaning when you hear them. You'll find this one from Zoho Music at iTunes or here.
There's a lot of Memphis in Magic Sam. And a few other cities, too. The guitarist recorded West Side Soul in 1967, and what you hear is a fascinating mix of soul shouting, blues lines, Stax rhythms and vivid Motown licks. The beauty of this album is it won't sit still. For example, it opens with the Detroit skipper That's All I Need, followed by B.B. King's electric blues I Need You So Bad and the washboard rockabilly Feelin' Good. You put this one on and you'll wind up unable to take it off. It's that addictive. You'll find this one from Delmark at iTunes or here.
Ray Charles Live was recorded at Los Angeles' Shrine Civic Auditorium in 1964. Coming off of his Genius + Soul = Jazz for Impulse in 1961, Charles held onto his big band, using Quincy Jones' book of arrangements. The band included trombonist Julian Priester and saxophonists Hank Crawford and David "Fathead" Newman.The standouts here include Margie, You Don't Know Me, Baby Don't You Cry and What'd I Say. Though One Mint Julep seems to have been miked incorrectly, it, too, is a funky gem. You'll find this one from Concord at iTunes or here.
Offering a first album for free is a smart marketing strategy, especially if you can sing like Brad McNett. It doesn't hurt he has a marvelous pianist behind him in Scott Gwinnell. On this free five-track downloadable album—Introducing Brad McNett—the singer covers Have You Got Any Castles, Baby? Charade, Blackberry Winter, I Wish You Love and Moonlight Saving Time. There's a late-'50s sensibility in his voice—touches of Mel Torme and Frank D'Rone. Again, this one is free to download, and it's really good stuff. Go here.
Oddball album cover of the week. Alto saxophonist Earl Bostic certainly could get you up and dancing with that infectious strip-time beat of his. What's puzzling to me about this cover, though, is why someone would feel so taken by his sound that they'd want to slip into a negligee and head to the nearest stage. Assuming those aren't house curtains, this LP could easily have been retitled, C'mon and Dance to an Audience of Drunks Down at the Docks.
The founding of Impulse Records in 1960 by Creed Taylor is a fascinating story. My interview with Creed in today's Wall Street Journalhere looks at how he came up with the Impulse name while working as the jazz producer at ABC-Paramount. He also talks about the branding strategy behind Impulse's signature orange and black color scheme, the laminated covers and the gatefolds—covers that swung open to reveal liner notes and photos.
Creed has always been first and foremost a jazz fan with a keen sense of the listener. Fidelity was and is paramount for Creed, as was the look and feel of the LPs he produced. He has always fully grasped the jazz mystique and that to survive the lean years, jazz must find a way to incorporate pop, rock and soul without giving up the qualities that make jazz special.
Now, the first six albums that Creed produced for Impulse have been remastered and are being released on a new four-CD set called First Impulse: The Creed Taylor Collection 50th Anniversary. It will be available on April 19 here.
Looking back on the first six albums, you immediately notice that the mix of styles and jazz quality are quite remarkable. Two of the albums are now classics (John Coltrane's Africa/Brass and Oliver Nelson's Blues and the Abstract Truth), one is a fascinating orchestral exploration (Gil Evans' Out of the Cool), one is a jazz-soul experiment (Ray Charles' Genius + Soul = Jazz) and two are trombone albums that still hold up pretty well (The Great Kai and J.J. and The Incredible Kai Winding Trombones).
Creed released the first four all at once in February 1961 to make a big bang at the retail level, followed by the issuing of Nelson's and Coltrane's albums. Through these six albums, Creed created a winning formula that he would use again and again for Verve, CTI at A&M and then CTI as a standalone enterprise.
In just a year and a half—1960-61—Creed had established one of jazz's most significant labels. By mid 1961, Creed left to become Verve's top producer. It was an offer he couldn't refuse. But while his run at Impulse was relatively short, what he assembled was remarkable. What's more, I'm not sure how many people around today can say that they met with John Coltrane and Eric Dolphy in their office to discuss an album concept.
When I asked Creed recently how he managed to get his bosses at ABC-Paramount to agree to what he wanted to do with Impulse, his answer was matter of fact: "I didn't report to anyone. They let me operate independently. It was an era when people who had established themselves were given the ball to run with it—and were supported until they succeeded."
Those were the days, indeed.
For my 19-part interview series with Creed, click on his name under "JazzWax Interviews" in the right-hand column at JazzWax. Each of the five "Creed Taylor" links contains four or five parts. To access additional parts, simply go to the top of the post on your screen, above the red date. There you'll find a link to the next part.
In February 1954, Stan Getz and the George Shearing Quintet were booked on the same bill for a series of West Coast concerts produced by Gene Norman. On the bus trip from Portland to Seattle, Getz tried to kick his heroin habit. The tenor saxophonist intended to be clean before the likelihood of drawing jail time following a user conviction in Los Angeles.
When the band bus arrived in Seattle, Getz attempted to hold up a drugstore for a morphine capsule and was arrested. The Seattle charges were dropped, however, when Getz pulled a six-month term at a Los Angeles prison hospital for his earlier crime. Cal Tjader was Shearing's vibraphonist on that tour and had made the tormented bus trip with Getz.
Fast forward four years to the month. Getz and Tjader were in San Francisco appearing at the Black Hawk, and found time to record for Fantasy. As Doug Ramsey writes in his fine liner notes for the newly remastered Stan Getz/Cal Tjader Sextet (Concord) a drug-free Getz brought bassist Scott LaFaro and drummer Billy Higgins to the date while Tjader rustled up pianist Vince Guaraldi and guitarist Eddie Duran.
The result is an extraordinary album documenting Getz in all his swinging glory between his bop and bossa periods. To hear this album so sonically dynamic is a true treat. Both Getz and Tjader are on top of their jazz games, as are their sidemen. Both Getz and Tjader are frighteningly confident and ferociously aggressive during their improvised passages.
Getz is particularly thrilling, rising and soaring throughout. This album confirms yet again that Getz was, pound for pound, the most exciting exponent of the Lester Young sound. You just can't believe your ears when Getz blows, and his lines touch your heart at every turn.
Tjader was the perfect foil for Getz, providing a cool backdrop but often slugging it out punch for punch with Getz for solo supremacy. You realize here just how good Tjader was, qualities that weren't fully captured later on in his more commercial releases.
Dig Getz and Tjader on the vibraphonist's brisk and intricate composition Big Bear. Or the speed and daring of Getz's ideas on Ginza Samba, which foreshadows his Brazilian period. Guaraldi is no slouch either, as the solo on his composition Ginza Samba demonstrates. Same goes for the strong rhythm guitar work of Duran on the track.
Tjader's exciting attack during his solo on Ginza Samba is evidence of his deft, just-enough style. And Tjader's Liz-Anne exhibits yet again the vibist's strength—as a player but also as a composer. Getz eats up the song's waltz-time tempo, skipping along with an endless string of melodic ideas.
This is an absolutely perfect recording on every level. It's just a shame they didn't screw up. There are no alternate takes.
JazzWax tracks: Stan Getz/Cal Tjader Sextet from February 1958 has been remastered and reissued by Concord. You'll find this one here.
JazzWax clip: Here's Vince Guaraldi's Ginza Samba, taken at an impossible speed. Dig the blowing and ideas here. By the way, this is an earlier release, not the new one. On the reissue, Getz and Tjader sound as if they're in the room...
Jazz was so crowded with talent in the 1950s that it's easy for great artists from the decade to slip into obscurity today. This is especially true of trumpet players. We fixate on Miles Davis, Chet Baker, Kenny Dorham and Clifford Brown, not to mention Dizzy Gillespie, Harry "Sweets" Edison and Roy Eldridge. Rightfully so, but there were plenty of others. One who deserves much more recognition than he has received thus far is Jon Eardley. Among his finest recording sessions are two from the mid-'50s with alto saxophonist Phil Woods.
Eardley was fundamentally a bop trumpeter who started recording with Charlie Parker and Joe Timer and the Orchestra in the early 1950s. He recorded extensively with Gerry Mulligan throughout the decade and led his own quartet on record sessions. In the early '60s, Eardley moved to Belgium, where he remained and built a strong following until his death in 1991.
What made Eardley special during the '50s was his ability to blow hot but with laid-back distinction. The faster the tempo, the more harmoniously rich he would become, taking on a rolling, punctuating style akin to West Coasters Don Fagerquist, Dick Collins and Baker.
Eardley recorded several albums with Woods mid-decade, but among his finest were Phil Woods: New Jazz Quintet in October 1954 and Phil Woods: New Jazz Quartet in February 1955. Later in the '50s, the two superb albums were combined on a 12-inch Prestige release called Pot Pie. On both dates, the musicians were Jon Eardley (tp) Phil Woods (as) George Syran (p) Teddy Kotick (b) and Nick Stabulas (d).
Pot Pie opens with the title track, a cool interpretation of Sippin' at Bells. Open Door is an uptempo minor piece that pays tribute to the Greenwich Village club where all of the musicians on this date gathered often for jam sessions. Or dig Eardley's clean, lyrical solo on the blazing Robbin's Bobbin' and pensive intensity on the ballad Mad About the Boy. Cobblestones also is uptempo, again featuring Eardley with a solo that wanders up and down the scales cleanly and is never dull. Too's Blues is a walking ballad. Sea Beach and Horseshoe Curve are corkscrews featuring tricky melody lines.
For more on Eardley, there's a fast-moving interview with him in 1978 by Les Tomkins here. Eardley had a sound that fit in just fine on both coasts. But with work drying up here in the '60s, he found his way to Europe, where he fit in just fine.
JazzWax tracks: Phil Woods and Jon Eardley's Pot Pie is available at download sites and for sampling and purchase here. It's ferocious from start to finish.
JazzWax clips:Here's Jon Eardley with the Gerry Mulligan Septet playing Bernie's Tune in Milan in 1956. What a front line: Mulligan, Bob Brookmeyer, Zoot Sims and Eardley, who solos 1:47 into the clip...
Here's Eardley leading a session for Prestige in January 1956 called Jon Eardley Seven. On the date: Eardley (tp) Milt Gold (tb) Phil Woods (as) Zoot Sims (ts) George Syran (p) Teddy Kotick (b) and Nick Stabulas (d).
When I posted the first of Betty's photo collection from the '40s (sent to me by Chris), the emails flooded in begging for more. As promised, Betty's photos will appear little by little, as surprises. This one is from Betty, but it's a professional publicity still that Betty had in her possession. (Click the photo to enlarge.)
Only one tenor saxophonist stood like an upside down isosceles triangle: That's Charlie Ventura, with trombonist Bill Harris, bassist Bob Leininger, pianist Ralph Burns and drummer Dave Tough at New York's Three Deuces in April 1947.
Want to hear what these guys sounded like? Go here and here.
Want more JazzSnaps? Go to the right-hand column of JazzWax and scroll down to "JazzSnaps" for links.
The name Abdullah Ibrahim (also known as Dollar Brand) may or may not be familiar to you. The South African pianist comes to jazz from creative pressures that are different from most American jazz artists. Ibrahim grew up in the '40s and '50s under the African country's brutal segregationist system of apartheid, which was in place from 1948 to 1993. His music celebrates American jazz but echoes his own cultural background and hardships in Africa. As is evident on his latest album, Sotho Blue, Abdullah works from a rich and gentle spiritual tablet.
I was so moved by Abdullah's latest work with his band, Ekaya, that I wanted to reach out to tell him so. From South Africa, Abdullah generously took time out to answer my e-mailed questions.
In my e-interview with Abdullah, the 76-year-old composer and pianist talks about life growing up in South Africa and how he managed to leave the country:
JazzWax: You started playing professionally in South Africa in 1949 and began recording with the Tuxedo Slickers Orchestra in 1954, yes? Abdullah Ibrahim: Yes. The Tuxedo Slickers was a big-band based in Cape Town's District Six—one of the communities that the government later in the 1970s declared for whites only. Sixty-thousand life-long black residents were forcibly removed to townships. Back then, we played concerts and dance shows, with opening acts, vocal groups that were inspired by the Delta Rhythm Boys, and traditional choral music.
JW: What type of music did you play with the Tuxedo Slickers? AI: We used Tuxedo Junction as our signature tune. We also played Tommy Dorsey’s Song of India, Glenn Miller’s Moonlight Serenade and songs by Joe Liggins, Count Basie and Erskine Hawkins, who co-wrote Tuxedo Junction. Years later, I visited Hawkins’ home in Birmingham, Alabama, to pay my respects. We also played Xhosa and Zulu traditional music, and a keyboard style called Marabi that combined jazz, blues and ragtime with our music. I still play this form today. When the New York members of my band, Ekaya, visit, they call it South African r&b chord changes. Back in the early '50s, the Tuxedo Slickers’ arranger Caleb Ndimande wrote original African charts. He also wrote arrangements of jazz songs. I recall a very complex chart of pianist George Wallington's Lemon Drop. We had heard Dizzy Gillespie's recording.
JW: Given South Africa's horrible apartheid policy back in the '50s, how did you perform there and record? Did the government try to prevent this? AI: The apartheid regime was ruthless in controlling our daily movement. You'd need permits to travel anywhere and you always faced imminent arrest. We sneaked out of safe houses to jam with other musicians. We also organized our own community concerts. Then the white-owned recording companies would rip off naive and uninformed musicians and record their music without acknowledgment or compensation.
JW: How did you become familiar with American jazz in South Africa in the 1950s? AI: We listened to Voice of America jazz programs hosted by Willis Conover. We also listened to local weekly jazz programs on the radio as well as LPs.
JW: Where was one of the most unusual places you heard American jazz in South Africa? AI: The local ice-cream van blared Louis Jordan and his Tympani Five.
JW: How did you develop your style? AI: Our local jazz hero, alto saxophonist Kippie Moketsi, was classically trained and played elaborate pieces such as Mozart's clarinet concerto. On LP, I heard pianists Jimmy Yancey, Albert Ammons and Meade Lux Lewis. They inspired me to woodshed boogie-woogie, developing left-hand independence and synchronizing it with traditional rhythms, leaving my right hand free to fly anywhere.
JW: What is the origin of the name "Dollar Brand?" AI: My original last name was Brand. I was given my nick name while hanging out in Cape Town Harbor as a teen. I’d befriend African-American sailors, who were manning merchant vessels. They gave me a few dollars and the name stuck. I changed my name in the mid-70s when I converted to Islam.
JW: When you moved to Europe in 1962, did you find audiences there more receptive to your style of jazz? How did you escape South Africa? AI: In the aftermath of the Sharpville Massacre of March 1960, the regime became even more oppressive. We joined the wave of people, young and old, leaving the country in 1962. European audiences and musicians were very receptive to what I was playing. Some were hostile, especially when I became identified as an avant-garde musician. But it was the feeling of total creative liberation. It was a wonderful feeling to finally present music written in South Africa, without worrying about restrictions, the market, and political and social pressures.
JW: Whose music did you relate to most? AI: Duke Ellington’s. Duke, for us, was always the wise old man of the village. Our link with the African-American community started with our local African Methodist Episcopal church in South Africa, of which my grandmother was a founding member. Missionaries and bishops from Mother Bethel in Philadelphia had been sent there as missionaries. Duke's music embodied for us our common struggle and experience.
JW: Ellington must have been viewed as more than a great musician, as a cultural hero. AI: He was. Similarly, we also had celebrated Joe Louis' victories. I recall listening over and over to King Joe, also known as the Joe Louis Blues, recorded by the Count Basie Orchestra in 1941, with Langston Hughes’ lyrics and Paul Robeson on vocals.
JW: Your new album, Sotho Blue, has a beautiful, soulful feel. Where did you compose many of the songs? AI: We try to be as sincere as possible in our daily lives and I our music. Compositions have no fixed location or time limits.
JW: Do you view the music you create as jazz or as a different form born in South Africa with South African traditions? AI: In the words of our illustrious poet Rumi, “There is only one sound, everything else is echo.”
JazzWax tracks: Abdullah Ibrahim & Ekaya's new Sotho Blue was recorded in Bonn, Germany, and is absolutely gorgeous, from start to finish. It's gentler than Abdullah's earlier works, but it bristles with energy and patience. Sample the title track and Star Dance, which features tenor saxophonist Keith Loftis. You'll find this one here.
JazzWax clip: Here'sAbdullah Ibrahim's For Coltrane, from his Duke's Memories in 1981 with Carlos Ward on soprano sax...
Last night, Jazz at Lincoln Center in New York brought together trumpeter Wynton Marsalis and guitarist Eric Clapton for a first—an evening of blues performed by a jazz legend and rock superstar. Backed by eight gifted musicians who added authenticity and traditional flavor, Marsalis and Clapton worked through upward of 10 songs, most dating back to the 1920s.
The concept of pairing these two giants at Rose Hall was both a coup for Marsalis and a departure for Clapton, who is more accustomed to large arenas and stadiums. Oddly, though, the match didn't quite gel—but not due to any fault of JALC or the bold stroke of bringing them together.
Many of the numbers came off a bit halting and tedious, hindered perhaps by the newness of Marsalis' arrangements. It probably didn't help that both Marsalis and Clapton were dressed stiffly in suits and ties, and sat partially hidden behind music stands for the entire performance.
Which begs the question: when exactly is jazz going to realize that it has to be visually exciting? I fully expected Clapton to stand up and wail away. Or Marsalis to step to center stage and cut loose with every fiber in him. But such electrifying dream moments never arrived. Instead, we were treated to an ensemble that seemed frozen in time, like a sepia photograph of an early jazz band. [Pictured: Eric Clapton, during a rock concert]
I'm not sure why Clapton tabled his passion-filled blues-rock stage identity. Perhaps it was an effort to be polite in someone else's house. Or fatigue. At any rate, the result was uncharacteristically restrained and mysteriously flat.
To Marsalis' credit, his solos were among the finest of the evening, particularly on Louis Armstrong's dizzying The Last Time. And Clapton's expressive vocal on W.C Handy's Careless Love was exceptional and gut-wrenching, as was his guitarwork on Forty-Four. But both moments just weren't enough.
Marsalis should continue to invite rock legends into the jazz fold. That's pure brilliance. But one hopes that guests will be encouraged to be themselves and that once in a while something exciting will break loose. Jazz shoudn't be a still life—even in a concert hall. And Clapton should have felt free to stand, roam and feel the songs.
In addition, jazz musicians should stop treating rock as a sneaky blues thief that needs to be taught a public lesson. Performance jazz certainly could learn a few things from the excitement of rock—and the blues.
As for the opening act, Taj Mahal [pictured], he stole the show. Playing solo, Mahal worked through three songs on guitar—New Hula Blues, Stagger Lee and Spooky Blues—as well as one on piano. The richness and feel of his blues warmed the heart and moved the feet.
Ralph Carmichael. Arranger Ralph Carmichael and his wife Marvella sent along the following email...
"We just read your series with me and like it very much. I feel so honored to have been interviewed by you. JazzWax is a treasure!"
Ralph and Marvella are all class.
Hal Blaine. Wrecking Crew drummer Hal Blaine sent along the following email from a friend of his in Thailand:
"My wife and I are waiting for dinner guests in the lobby of a Phnom Penh, Cambodia, hotel. I just picked up the March 24th issue of The Cambodia Daily, and when I got to the back page, guess who I found. Yup. Ol' Hal and Marc Myers' WSJ article they evidently picked up. hope he gets paid. Musicians aren't the only ones they steal from. LOL. will send it to you when I get back to Thailand."
Small world, big party.
Third Ave. El. There's no real reason for this clip about one of New York's long lost elevated subway lines that was torn down in 1955—except that the writing is first rate, as are the images...
Watch the closing doors. One more for the road. This subway clip touts the virtues of taking the express subway train to the World's Fair in 1964 and 1965. Dig the Those Lazy, Hazy, Crazy Days of Summer-themed background music. I took this subway train as a kid, and if I recall, the exterior was turquoise and white while the interior was light blue and orange...
Mississippi—A Self-Portrait. Director Raymond De Felitta has posted installments his father Fran's documentary, Mississippi—A Self-Portrait, which was filmed for CBS in 1967. It's terrifying to think this was just 44 years ago. Go here for all three parts. Here's Part 1...
Hank O'Neal. For a week starting on April 25, Riverwalk Jazz will air a special radio program—Eddie Condon: Renaissance Man of Jazz—on XM's Real Jazz Channel 70. Author and photographer Hank O'Neal will interview Maggie Condon on her father Eddie. The title of this program was the title of Hank's book on Condon. A listing of dates and times can be found here.
Marilyn Monroe. I don't have a fetish for Marilyn Monroe, who died nearly 50 years ago. But if I did (and if you do), you'll love this site at Tumblr that is simply devoted to images of star-crossed starlet. Many of the images are rare and never before seen. I don't know where the person who hosts this photo blog finds them all. Amazing. Go here.
The Mel-Tones. After Mel Torme left the Mel-Tones and became, well, Mel Torme, the vocal group continued to have a career for a time. Here's a clip of them in the late '40s...
Count Basie. Roy Phillipe's full band arrangement of Night Train for Jimmy Forrest and Count Basie in the 1970s (which Roy wrote about at JazzWax here) is available at EJazz Lines here. Roy's other big band arrangements are available here.
Smigly. Illustrator and saxophonist Allen Mezquida sent along his latest Smigly clip—an animated promo on behalf of Gordon Goodwin's Big Phat Band from Telarc...
Oddball album cover of the week. This one was too good to pass up, even though jazz plays no role here. Despite the album's good intentions, the cover surely works against the self-help message. I don't smoke, but if I did the cover certainly would have the opposite effect on me. As for the song choices, it's hard to know why Autumn Leaves or Yellow Bird would make me kick the habit. I guess back in the day, smokers thought their habitual need to light up was the result of nerves rather than nicotine and that LPs were the cure. Interestingly, our smoker appears to be engaged yet out on the town, unless her apartment is designed like a bar.
In the last years of Nat King Cole's life, he sounded comfortable in the arms of Ralph Carmichael's charts. Admittedly lighter and more commercial than Cole's earlier Capitol dates, these albums need to be put in context. Easy listening LPs like Touch of Your Lips; Lazy Hazy, Crazy Days of Summer and L-O-V-E were indeed lighter than earlier releases, they remain period pieces—prime examples of an era when traditional pop was nearly exhausted and at the same time confused by the swell of pop-rock popularity.
In Part 3 of my three-part conversation with Ralph on Cole, the arranger talks about the stigma of Those Lazy, Hazy, Crazy Days of Summer and the mistake on That Summer, That Sunday that aced the song:
JW: What was it like working on Lazy, Hazy, Crazy Days of Summer in 1963? RC: What do you think of it?
JW: Me? I rather like it. It’s a period piece for me—the last classic pop album before Kennedy's death and the Beatles' arrival. RC: I know. After the album was released, it became a big hit. One day soon after t was out, I had just finished a rehearsal for a project I was doing with Nat and the Merry Young Souls, a group of young singers and dancers he worked with for TV specials. I was getting ready to head home and was out on Vine Street heading for the parking lot.
JW: What happened? RC: I ran into trombonist Kenny Shroyer. He was waiting for his wife to pick him up. We were right in front of the Lamplight Bar, which was on one side of the studio. A men’s clothing store called Sy Devore’s was on the other.
JW: What did Shroyer say? RC: He said, “Come on Ralph, I’ll buy you a drink.” I told him I didn’t drink. He said, “Come on anyway, I’ll buy you a Coke.” So we went in and sat at the bar. There was only one other guy in there, further down the bar. The place had one of those old nickelodeons, which were coin-operated player pianos that let you choose songs, like a jukebox. I guess the bar wanted a nostalgic sound.
JW: What was the nickelodeon playing? RC: Lazy, Hazy Crazy Days of Summer. When the song ended, the guy at the bar got off his stool and put another dime in to restart it. Kenny made a face but we kept talking. When the song ended, the guy got up and put another dime in the slot and chose the song again. Kenny said, “If I could find the guy who wrote that chart, I’d kill him.” Then I said, “Well, you just met him. It was me, Kenny.”
JW: What did he say? RC: Kenny just started laughing. It was one of those songs that admittedly was annoying, but it grew on you. It was a lot of fun to arrange—with a choir, a few strings, a couple of guitars, an upright bass, keyboard and a few novelty instruments.
JW: Did Nat truly enjoy making that one? RC: Oh, sure. You have to understand, to Nat’s credit, he was going where the public was with that album. Lazy, Hazy was made first and became a hit. So we built an entire summer album around it.
JW: So they knew from the start the song and album were going to be a commercial venture. RC: Oh sure. That’s how it worked. First came the single. If it was a hit, then an album was created to wrap around it. Nat was a businessman. I was a businessman too. From a musical standpoint, I always preferred love or tenderness to corniness. But hey, what are you going to do? [laughs]
JW:That Sunday, That Summer remains particularly beautiful. RC: That was Natalie Cole’s favorite by her father. She used to pretend that her dad was singing it just to her. You know, i n those days, with all the deadlines, I’d often write all night. The copyist would keep his fingers crossed that I’d get the score to the studio on time.
JW: How did it work with That Sunday, That Summer? RC: I wrote the arrangement but was so tired that I forgot choir parts were needed to open and close the tune.
JW: How did you find out? RC: When I got to the studio, the copyist looked at the music and then at me and said, “Ralph, didn’t you forget something?” He showed me the score with the choir section listed. But I didn’t have notes written out for them for their intro and outro.
JW: What did you do? RC: Well, first I panicked [laughs]. Then I just dictated what I wanted at the start to the copyist, who wrote it all down. Then I said, “After Nat runs through the song, we’ll have the choir sing the exact same parts for the outro.”
JW: What happened? RC: After we recorded it, I figured Lee Gillette, the producer, was going to ream me out. Sure enough, Lee came out of the booth and started walking toward me, I thought that was it. But when he reached me, he said, “Man that was really a genius idea to add the intro as the ending.” He never knew. [laughs]
JW: What don’t most people know about Nat Cole in the studio? RC: Nat wore a bridge in his mouth that crossed over his roof. He couldn’t say the letter “L” well because of the brace. I think he wore it to hold a couple of teeth in place that were hooked on either side.
JW: How did this affect his speaking voice? RC: Instead of calling me Ralph, he called me “Raff.” He’d say “Yeah Raff.” He could say the letter “L,” but it was uncomfortable for him. He could sing the letter “L” but he’d have to do it by thinking hard about it. This was the case when we recorded L-O-V-E. He was such a magnificent pro that you don’t really hear him struggling with the letter on the record at all.
JW: Was it painful to see Nat deteriorate in late 1964? RC: It was so sad. Nat was so full of life and joy. I remember after Nat had been diagnosed with cancer, he came to a session in San Francisco in a suit, like he was getting ready to meet the President. Usually he dressed casually for the studio. But on this date, he was dressed up because he was relishing life.
JW: Even with all that pain. RC: He had been given bad, bad news about his health but he was relishing every moment of his life. He had no place to go except to perform that night at the Fairmont Hotel. So tragic. And what a loss. I miss him still. Nat and I had shared a bond. We were both preachers’ kids.
JazzWax list: Here are the Nat King Cole albums arranged by Ralph Carmichael:
1960 Wild Is Love* 1960 The Magic of Christmas 1961 The Nat King Cole Story 1961 The Touch of Your Lips 1962 Nat King Cole Sings/George Shearing Plays 1962 More Cole Español 1963 Those Lazy-Hazy-Crazy Days of Summer 1964 Nat King Cole Sings My Fair Lady 1964 I Don't Want to Be Hurt Anymore 1965 L-O-V-E
*Partial
JazzWax note: So who plays the trumpet solo on Ralph's arrangement of Girl From Ipanema, from Cole's L-O-V-E album? Ralph recalls it was Bobby Bryant. And Jimmy Rowles on piano. Here's the track...
For more on Ralph Carmichael, visit his site here.
JazzWax clip:Here's Here's Nat Cole's That Sunday, That Summer, with Ralph Carmichael's last-minute intro and duplicated outro...
Ralph Carmichael likes to arrange strings in clusters. This technique allows him to take the largest possible group of violins, violas and cellos and, by bunching them into groups and voicing them as mini ensembles, he ensures richness and clarity without clutter and sweetness. For Ralph, the goal always is to create a luminous frame for singers and not let the arrangement become cute or shmaltzy.
In Part 2 of my three-part conversation with Ralph on his close relationship with Nat King Cole, the arranger talks about the singer's album with George Shearing and Cole's fondness for spirituals:
JazzWax: How did Nat King Cole work in the studio? Ralph Carmichael: He always dressed casually, in slacks and an open shirt. He would arrive a little late to give me time to run down the charts with the orchestra. This way, if there were any clams [bad notes], we’d work them out without Nat having to stand around while we corrected them. Nat arriving late soon became a custom. When I’d see his image in the control booth, I knew we were ready to go. Sometimes he would stand with me as we ran down the last chart and he’d hum along.
JW: How was he set up in the studio? RC: Generally there was a baffle around him, but he wasn’t totally enclosed. Maybe two-thirds of the mike would be surrounded. Nat usually did one take and that’s it.
JW: Did Nat like strings? RC: He loved them. Many people think Nat was coerced into recording with strings. Not so. He loved the way his voice sounded with them behind him, the more the merrier.
JW: Did Nat ever tell you how much he enjoyed your arrangements? RC: Nat had a way of communicating his love for your work that surpassed anything he could put into words. It was a twinkle in his eyes. You could tell when he was digging it. It was a very special look.
JW: What was it like working with Cole and George Shearing on their 1961 album together? RC: Nat and George had the greatest of respect for each other. George was, of course, a fabulous piano player, and his sense of swing was marvelous. He loved Nat’s concept for the album.
JW: Who came up with the song choices? RC: They had been selected by the time we got together to meet on the keys, tempos and feel of each song. I suspect all three of them—Nat, George and producer Lee Gillette—figured out the songs. The problem we faced, though, was that Nat and George couldn't agree on how we'd treat each song.
JW: How so? RC: When we had our first meeting at Capitol—Nat, Lee, George and me—I had my score paper with me. After an hour and a half, I had 10 pages of notes written on the page.
JW: How many songs did that cover? RC: One [laughs]
JW: What happened next? RC: After George and Nat left, I spoke to Lee. I said, “This is nuts. They keep changing their minds about who is going to start the song, where a key change will occur, and so on.” I told Lee, “I have a better idea.”
JW: What happened? RC: At our next meeting a few days later, there was a mike set up for Nat and one for George. I could throw my two cents in by talking into Nat’s mike. Val Valentine was in the booth recording everything that was being said. I didn’t have to write anything down.
JW: What did you do? RC: When the meeting was finished, they ran me a copy of the tape. I just listened to the last three minutes of each conversation to capture the approach they wanted.
JW: Did Cole arrive late on each of the four recording sessions? RC: He came in 15 minutes late for the first one.This bugged George, since he was there on time. So on the second date, Nat got there about 15 minutes late but George came 30 minutes late. On the third date, Nat came 40 minutes late. It got to be hilarious. They finally agreed to knock it off and both arrived at the same time for the fourth session.
JW: Since Shearing was blind, how did he know how the studio was set up? RC: His assistant would tell him. When George arrived, he’d come into Studio A at Capitol and walk right over to the piano and plop himself down on the bench without bumping into a thing. He knew exactly the distance and clearing for his walk.
JW: Did Shearing say anything to you about your arrangements? RC: On the second or third tune we recorded, I ran down the song and we all looked over at George to see if he approved. George didn’t say a word. He scooted back from the piano and headed directly toward me. I said to myself, “Oh boy, now what?” He found me and put one hand on my shoulder and whispered, “You’re a son of a bitch.” That was the highest compliment. I knew I had hit the mark if George loved it that much. We had 30 strings on that date. I had been pushing for a larger and larger string section, and they gave me whatever I wanted. George, being an arranger himself, understood what I was aiming for and what I was doing with the arrangement to get us there.
JW: Did you do Cole's road shows as well? RC: Yes. For one of them, Nat wanted a medley of a half dozen spirituals. I wrote them for him with a choir—12 voices. He loved it. For these songs, he’d come out on stage like a Sunday morning preacher, and the kids in the choir were all in robes. It was one of his favorite segments of the show.
JW: Nat enjoyed those? RC: Loved them. After he came off the road, he went into the Sands Hotel in Las Vegas and asked me to fly in from Los Angeles to do a rehearsal. One of the tunes, the finale, was a group of spirituals. We ran it down in rehearsal and it went well. The kids did a great job.
JW: Spirituals in Las Vegas must have been a shocker. RC: Between rehearsals and opening night, we were all having a bite to eat in the lounge in a quiet private area. Jack Entratter [pictured], the hotel’s president, was running the dinner. We had all ordered and were eating, so it was real quiet.
JW: Who broke the silence? RC: Jack. He said to Nat, “I have to talk to you about that religion thing. We have to cut it. It has to go.” Nat looked up at him from his food with a surprised expression. Jack added, “Nat, it’s taking place in my bar.”
JW: What happened next? RC: Nat put his knife and fork down quietly, pushed his chair back, stood up and started to place his napkin down. He said, “Then you’ll have to get yourself another boy singer” and started to walk away.
JW: What did Entratter do? RC: Jack said, “Nat, no, no. I was just kidding. Keep it in, keep it in.”
JazzWax tracks:Nat King Cole Sings/George Shearing Plays (1961) offers a fascinating look at Ralph Carmichael's string style. For example, listen to Pick Yourself Up. Or I've Got It Bad and That Ain't Good. Or Serenata. Listen carefully how Ralph works in the strings and where he has them lay back. The goal was to enhance but not get under the feet of the already tender Shearing Quintet. Fabulous. This album is available at iTunes or here.
JazzWax clip: Here's Pick Yourself Up. Dig where Ralph writes in the strings. From the top, they play the same syncopated figure as the quintet, but they are brought up stronger in the seventh measure and then drift in almost like a mist. Or listen to the Shearing Quintet's solo. The strings don't come in until after the first chorus, and then they pop in and out delicately, more like a waiter in a scene than a seated guest...
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."
