In today's Wall Street Journal (go here), I write about June and Jean Millington, two of the hippest and most seasoned female hard-rockers around. That's guitarist June on the right and her bassist sister Jean. Did I mention that June is 63 and Jean is 62? Think these two gals are retired weekend wannabes? Think again. They were founding members of Fanny, which in 1969 became the first and most successful all-female hard-rock band. Both are jaw-dropping instrumentalists, as evidenced by their gig Wednesday night at New York's Highline Ballroom. Their new album, Play Like a Girl, is out today, and it's solid on every level.
But before I go on, here's June and Jean's background...
And here's Fanny's recording of the Beatles' Hey Bulldog in 1972...
Like jazz, rock did not have one long, seamless evolution. Rock 'n' roll, as it was known in the 1950s, came to a screeching halt in 1959, when Congress began to investigate payola's influence on radio. When the hearings were completed in 1960, two changes in the music occurred.
First, pop-rock emerged as a byproduct of an industry urgently trying to sweeten its sour image by tapping into new, young and idealistic Brill Building songwriters. Second, radio was forced to change how it chose records to play on the air. New standards were set up to limit the influence of liquor, girls, cars, favors and bags of cash.
But by early 1967, rock musicians, particularly on the West Coast, began rebelling against the formulaic way in which pop-rock was processed for the 45-rpm. By this time, a new generation of singer-songwriters was emerging, and the 12-inch album was a much more ideal format to house all of the original compositions than the three-minute single.
Female rock bands—meaning women who sang while they played instruments—had been around since the early 1960s. But they largely recorded singles that were bundled together onto LPs. Not until Fanny—June and Jean Millington's band in 1969—were women taken seriously as hard rockers and rock composers.
Both June and Jean are extraordinary instrumentalists—so exceptional that they were lauded by just about every major rocker and guitarist of the period, including David Bowie and the Beatles.
The Millingtons' new album has plenty of punch. They're joined by a range of musicians, including drummer Lee Madeloni [pictured], Jean's son from her marriage to Earl Slick, David Bowie's guitarist in the 1970s.
This is rock—without the noise or male theatrics. There's deep blues and finger-popping R&B in here. And Buddhist funk. And a bunch of other stuff. But don't call it pop. The music is hard rock, pure and simple. It just happens to be played by women who love what they do.
JazzWax tracks: You'll find June and Jean Millington's Play Like a Girl (Fabulous Records) here. For a 90-track remastered collection of Fanny's albums, go here.
Back in the '70s, jazz organists such as Jimmy McGriff, Charles Earland and Leon Spencer Jr. took on soul hits of the day, giving them a funky, dynamic groove. Now the '70s are again being taken seriously by contemporary jazz artists. On their fourth album, Wonderful!, the Deep Blue Organ Trio pays tribute to the music of Stevie Wonder, and the result is solid and exhilarating. On each track, the group hooks into Wonders' songs' sweet spots without ever losing his original melody or feeling. [Pictured at top from left, Greg Rockingham, Chris Foreman and Bobby Broom]
The Deep Blue Organ Trio is comprised of guitarist Bobby Broom, organist Chris Foreman and drummer Greg Rockingham. They give nine of Wonder's songs a new life by approaching the material from surprising directions. Intros are unlike the ones Wonder uses and camouflage what you're about to hear. Meanwhile, the beats created by Rockingham wisely have little to do with the originals. Invariably, the songs are lifted into a hip place.
The Wonder tracks are Tell Me Something Good (which Wonder wrote and Rufus and Chaka Khan recorded in 1974), If You Really Love Me, Jesus Children of America (from Innervisions), My Cheri Amour, Golden Lady, You Haven't Done Nothin', It Ain't No Use (from Fulfillingness' First Finale), As (from Songs in the Key of Life) and You've Got It Bad Girl.
It's gratifying to hear these familiar songs served up with a soul-jazz twist. While each of the originals were pop-soul hits, there's now plenty of time to explore them from an improvisational perspective. What's more, the trio has added gravy and mashed potatoes. All of the interpretations are funky and completely comfortable in a gospel space.
High points include a swaggering If You Really Love Me; Jesus Children of America taken at a tempo faster than the original; Golden Lady in 6/8 time; and a walking As. Even You've Got It Bad Girl slinks along with a shuffle beat. Every track offers a new, exciting take on material that was great to begin with.
After years of Motown being coldly remixed, reloaded, overhauled and turned inside out by techno wizards, it's refreshing to hear jazz interpretations of Stevie Wonder's soul classics. The Deep Blue Organ Trio hasn't given these songs a new life—they've created a hip Patty Duke cousin for each of them. Hopefully the trio will turn to Marvin Gaye or Holland, Dozier and Holland next.
JazzWax tracks: You'll find the Deep Blue Organ Trio's Wonderful! (Origin) here. The trio's last album, Folk Music, also is terrific. It's here.
Jazz artists' recordings in the late 1950s and early '60s were often a direct reflection of their labels' budgets, producers' visions and arrangers' whims. Count Basie, for example, sounded a bit stiff and buttoned up on Verve but unleashed on Roulette. Sonny Stitt sounded thought out and on point on Roost but a bit let's-get-this-over-with on his mid-'60s Prestige sessions. In keeping with this line of thinking, I've always loved Sarah Vaughan on Roulette. Working with producers Teddy Reig and Henry Glover, Vaughan had a relaxed, shimmering jazz-pop sound on those albums—more in control than her earlier Mercury recordings and more youthful than her LPs for same label afterward.
Recorded between April 1960 and July 1963, this is "Sassy in the Land of JFK." On the 16 LPs she recorded during this tight three-year period, you can hear a soaring sense of optimism in her voice, a jazz sound that adapted perfectly to the modern era. By 1960, Vaughan no longer had anything to prove. She was established as both a jazz legend and a pop vixen. Comfortable in her own skin, Vaughan weaves through songs with a clear sense of herself as a songstress and storyteller who was on par with Nat Cole.
The reason I mention all of this is that Mosaic it appears is still selling The Complete Roulette Sarah Vaughan Studio Sessions. This is one of those boxes that once it disappears, buyers will be telling themselves two things: "I didn't know it was still in print, and now that it's gone I wish I had grabbed it when I could."
The best thing about the Roulette years is the wide range of arrangers who were teamed with her. The list included Jimmy Jones, Ernie Wilkins, Quincy Jones, Don Costa [pictured], Benny Carter, Gerald Wilson and Lalo Schifrin.
This set kicks off with a grandly remastered Dreamy (April 1960) and The Divine One (October 1960), which are among Jimmy Jones' finest vocal arranging dates. Vaughan is at her meowing best here, working patiently through gems like The More I See You, Crazy He Calls Me, Serenata and I'm Gonna Laugh You Right Out of My Life.
Next was Count Basie-Sarah Vaughan (January 1961), which featured mostly Thad Jones arrangements. Interestingly, the best chart on the session (and perhaps in the box) is Frank Foster's Little Man You've Had a Busy Day. Then again I'm a sucker for flutes on top. It's so beautifully arranged you'd swear there were strings.
After Hours (July 1961) featured only guitarist Mundell Lowe and bassist George Duvivier. Instead of working harder than necessary to sing instrumentally, Vaughan relaxes and lets her enormous range and hearth-like timbre rule. Mundy and Duvivier here provide exceptional accompanist lines. The highlight is the touching My Favorite Things, my personal favorite rendition of this standard.
Quincy Jones' You're Mine You session (January 1962) is massively big, draping Vaughan in the musical equivalent of mink. There are French horns, strings—the works. The influence of Nelson Riddle is strong—particularly on Witchcraft, The Second Time Around and The Best Is Yet to Come (listen how she turns this one inside out melodically). Baubles, Bangles and Beads also is dynamic. Interestingly, Jones seems to have used the same One Mint Julep chart he wrote for Ray Charles on Genius + Soul = Jazz a year earlier.
Snowbound (July 1962), arranged by Don Costa, was a sweeping orchestral album aimed at cold-weather, candlelight-and-drinks couples. The title track is twinkly and impossibly cuddly. The same goes for Glad to Be Unhappy and one of the most exciting versions of Spring Can Really Hang You Up the Most. And dig the oddly interesting Blah, Blah Blah by the Gershwins.
There are only two musicians behind Vaughan on Sarah + 2 (August 1962)—guitarist Barney Kessel and bassist Joe Comfort. Vaughan works incredibly well here in a setting that's on par with After Hours. But rather than offering a late night romantic mood, things are a little peppier. Just in Time, When Lights Are Low and Key Largo are prime examples.
The Explosive Side (August 1962) was a Benny Carter date, with Vaughan handing a mix of pop and jazz material with carefully chosen Los Angeles jazz players. The arrangements are novel and challenging, with intricate intros offering little clue about the songs ahead. What's most noticeable here is how effortlessly Vaughan double-clutches and wriggles through traffic vocally—particularly on Moonlight on the Ganges, A Garden in the Rain and The Trolley Song.
Marty Manning's Star Eyes (February 1963) string session leads with Vaughan's great version of the title track. Here you also have spectacular renditions of Don't Go to Strangers, Call Me Irresponsible and I Was Telling Him About You.
Slightly Classical (March 1963) shouldn't work but it does, to a certain extent. These are classically based songs with lyrics. The lineup includes transgenre effforts such as My Reverie and Intermezzo. A strange fit for Vaughan, but you do get to hear her chops in a completely different milieu. And there's something so relaxing about the tracks. And dig I Give to You, which is arranged like Theme From A Summer Place.
Vaughan shifts gears on Sings Soulfully (May 1963). Supported by Gerald Wilson's arrangements, the singer is backed by a sextet with the Hammond organ (Ernie Freeman) playing a prominent role. Vaughan digs deep on smart choices such as A Taste of Honey, What Kind of Fool Am I, Sermonette, The Good Life, 'Round Midnight and Easy Street. All have a loping ballad feel.
The Lonely Hours (June 1963) was arranged by Benny Carter, who again serves up unusual twists to songs, as though purposefully challenging Vaughan. Dig the interaction between Vaughan and the French horns and tuba on Always on My Mind. Or the embracing string writing on The Man I Love. Or the dramatic build on Friendless.
Sweet 'n' Sassy (June 1963) is the final LP session. Handled by Lalo Schifrin, the album was probably the most uneven matching between the singer and arranger. However, there are a few highlights such as Just You Just Me and Thanks for the Ride.
To be fair, there are some duds in this set—but they are few. In between her album sessions, Roulette recorded her for singles. Most were a complete miss. These were arranged by Billy May, Joe Reisman and Marty Manning. Neither jazz, pop or soul, they emerge as rough fits.
For too long, Sarah Vaughan's Roulette LPs have been largely dismissed like polyester upholstery or low-cal soda. In truth, these are solid works in the stereo age, when Vaughan was at her late jazz peak and just before her diva years. In fact, she was age 36-38 during the sessions. Like the cars of this period, think of the recordings as Vaughan with fins.
JazzWax tracks: You'll find the eight-CD set The Complete Roulette Sarah Vaughan Studio Sessions (Mosaic) here.
JazzWax clip: Here's Sarah Vaughan with Mundell Lowe and George Duvivier on In a Sentimental Mood from After Hours...
Despite all the doom and gloom about the consolidation of record companies and tumbling sales in the digital age, I'm constantly amazed by the surging flow of new and accomplished artists and bands. Music—like art or writing—must be, no matter what's going on in the economy. While most of you come here daily for jazz insights, you already know that from time to time I like to share different types of music with you that strike my fancy. Today, I want to tell you about a new folk-rock group called The Parson Red Heads. Their new album Yearling is special.
We tend to think of new recording artists as youthful headstrong creators rushing blindly forward with hopes of instant stardom. We also assume they know little or nothing about the past and find music history a complete waste of time. While this may be the case with some of them, The Parson Red Heads clearly have done their San Francisco homework. Their sound has touches of the Byrds, Crosby Stills Nash and Young, Buffalo Springfield and the Youngbloods, with Washington D.C.'s Starland Vocal Band thrown in for good measure.
But in all fairness, the Parson Red Heads' attack and compositions are original and thoroughly modern. What touches me most is the group's acoustic purity, adherence to folk-drenched harmony, and fondness for spirited folk—all with a gentle spin.
Yearling is the band's second CD, and it's beautifully produced. Their voices are gorgeous, and the performances are tightly knit and instantly grabby. The band on the new album is comprised of Evan Way (vocals, acoustic and electric guitar), his wife Brette Marie Way (harmony vocals and drums), Sam Fowles (harmony vocals and electric guitar) and Andy Creighton (bass).
The Parson Red Heads began in Eugene, Ore., in 2003 and moved to Los Angeles in 2005. Last year they moved back to Oregon. How did the band get its name? According to the group's press materials, a friend opened a jazz dictionary and found a reference to "Pearson Red Heads" but misread it as Parson Red Heads. I'm guessing that their pal actually stumbled across the Parisian Redheads, an all-women jazz band in the 1920s who were later known as the Bricktops. There's no "Pearson Red Heads" in any jazz book I'm aware of.
Whatever the name of the group their friend misread, bandmembers discovered only years later that they had the original name wrong. In other words, the band's name has no hidden meaning.
Time Is Running Out, Happy We Agree and I Was Only are charmers—with the latter tipping a hat to the Beatles' Across the Universe. And Burning Up the Sky is a splendidly crafted folk-rock anthem. If you like folk-rock, Yearling has that honest sound that only the Northwest can produce.
I'd love to listen to this album driving an old VW bug or bus, to hear that engine against the music. Yearling is an album that looks forward while taking the past firmly by the hand.
JazzWax tracks: The Parson Red Heads' Yearling (Arena Rock) can be found at iTunes or here.
To hear a track and get a free download of Burning Up the Sky, go here.
JazzWax clip:Here's The Parson Red Heads singing Peace in the Valley, which isn't on their new album...
If you remember Motown singer Tammi Terrell, you probably recall her duets with Marvin Gaye. If you know little about her, here is a 30-minute documentary that will choke you up. Terrells' short life was as sad as can be (she died at age 24), yet her spirit never flagged...
Count Basie at Birdland. This video clip made the rounds last week among jazz insiders, so I thought I'd share it with you. It features TV personality Steve Allen visiting Birdland in July 1956 (ignore the incorrect date at YouTube) to hang with Count Basie and his orchestra. Dig the sax soli on Blee Blop Blues, the second track. Go here.
Art Pepper. Laurie Pepper says she is digitizing her collection of Art Pepper cassette recordings. In the process, she says she's coming across music with audio quality that is too marginal for release. But the music quality is another matter. This week, if you hurry, you can hear a rare recording from 1981 of Red Car captured at Parnell's in Seattle. Art is with Milcho Leviev, David Williams, and Carl Burnett. Go here (the play button is at the top of the page in light green).
Don Byron radio. Jazz musician and historian Bill Kirchner will be focusing on clarinetist-composer-arranger Don Byron tonight on Jazz From the Archives on New York's WBGO. Bill will feature Byron on several of his recordings as a leader plus some of sideman dates with New Orleans pianist Allen Toussaint. The show airs tonight from 11 p.m. to midnight (EDT). You can tune in on your computer from anywhere in the world by going here.
Choppertone. JazzWax reader and Nat King Cole's record promoter Dick LaPalm sent along this clip featuring Nick Francis, a gentleman for whom a stereo system clearly wasn't enough! Go here.
CD discoveries of the week. When gospel and soul overlap, the result is pure magic. This is the case on an album called Like a Ship (Without a Sail), featuring Pastor T.L. Barrett and the Youth for Christ Choir. Recorded in 1971 and self-released by the reverend, the album made it onto CD last year and the result is spectacular. Like the Edwin Hawkins Singers in 1969 with Oh Happy Day, this album features a youth gospel choir backed by a soul ensemble that's so well orchestrated that it nearly steals the show from the vocals. As soon as you sample this one, you'll feel the enormous spirit and feeling of hope in the lyrics and music. Thanks, Harry. You'll find this one (from Light in the Attic) at iTunes or here.
Guitarist Randy Johnston is out with his first leadership CD since 2004. People Music (Random Act) showcases his bluesy side and heady attack, featuring lightning fast runs and a wailing groove. The album's saucy tone is enhanced greatly by organist Pat Bianchi and drummer Carmen Intorre Jr. Tracks include mostly originals but also includes Chick Corea's Humpty Dumpty and Eddie Harris' Cold Duck Time. Turns out Randy also has a terrific singing voice, particularly on Mose Allison's blues Parchman Farm. You'll find this one at iTunes and here.
Pianist Sir Roland Hanna is such a song player that he always sounds like he's pushing the piano around the room. An enormous gifted pianist with a complex technique, the late Hanna brought restless imagination and elan to virtually every song he took on. This is certainly true of his final solo outing, Color From a Giant's Kit (IPO) from 2002. Whether he's rolling Robbins' Nest, tearing through Moment's Notice or digging deep for Naima, Hanna here is exceptional on many levels. My favorite track is Cherokee, which he takes at mid-tempo, teasing out the song's melodic joy without turning it into a rat race. You'll find this one at iTunes and here.
Oddball album cover of the week. JazzWax reader Jim Eigo of Jazz Promo Services sent this one along. I have no idea why this group was called Clancy's Clowns or what kind of music is featured here. What I do know is that the album was recorded in 1961 and produced for Capitol by Lee Gillette. Apparently the musicians worked at Disneyland. Being in the dark, I also have no idea whether the music will make you laugh or cry. Judging by the cover, they certainly don't seem like friendly clowns. For more information, go here.
I'm heading out on assignment today. Given all of the strife and stress in the news these days—and since it's the anniversary of Elvis Presley's death on August 16—I thought I'd leave you with one of my favorite clips of the King, this one from June 1968. The song was written by Walter Earl Brown:
Wall Street Journal alert: Be sure to read my review today of guitarist Steve Cropper's terrific new CD, Dedicated: A Tribute to the 5 Royales in today's Wall Street Journal. Pick up the paper—or go here. You'll find the album at iTunes or here.
While writing my post the other day on my favorite Anita O'Day album for Verve (Anita O'Day and Billy May Swing Rodgers and Hart), I reached out to arranger-composer Russ Garcia in New Zealand for a comment. Here's what Russ had to say, followed by a few other stories from readers [Photo of Anita O'Day by Malcolm Moore]...
"Dear friend Marc, I did several albums and odd arrangements for Anita over the years. Yes, she was very kooky, but she always could swing like a brass section. In fact, she made the band swing. She sang with lots of real feeling, and she didn't drag way behind the beat, like so many singers did. On a beautiful ballad, she would sing close to the melody on the first chorus and then dip into her bag of tricks for the rest. So you can see why it was a joy to work with her. [Pictured: Russ Garcia]
"Even though I did often bail out Billy [May, pictured] when he wasn't going to make his deadline for a session—staying up all night and writing like a bunny—I don't recall working on Swings Rodgers and Hart. Of course, this was many long years ago. And even though I helped Billy, he was a great arranger and a nice guy with a great sense of humor."
Note: Russ will be in the U.S. in October and November conducting concerts in Los Angeles, San Francisco, New York and Palm Beach, Fla. More to come as plans firm up.
This comment is from photographer Malcolm Moore, whose image is at the top of this post...
"Great column today. I saw Anita O'Day twice—in the summers of 1982 and 1984. The former was at Charlie's Georgetown, the club in Georgetown in Washington, D.C., owned by guitarist Charlie Byrd. She was quite a character. Even though I'm now getting rid of most of my LPs, those of Anita's that she autographed for me will remain in my possession. She autographed one album, 'How come Malcolm?'—the type of playful comment that made her such a 'hip chick.' Thanks for your column."
And this one is from Joe Lang, past president of the New Jersey Jazz Society...
"In December 1973, I saw that Anita was going to be at the Half Note, in its new uptown location in New York. Our first son had been born three months earlier, and we hadn't been out since his birth. The temptation to see Anita was strong, so we arranged to have my sister play the role of babysitter. It was Saturday December 23.
"We arrived for the first set but wound up staying through the entire evening. As the last set was coming to a close, Anita decided to sing The Christmas Song as her closer. It was appealing to anticipate her singing such an out there choice, at least for her.
"Well, it must have taken six or seven minutes for her and her pianist to settle on a key, but it was a special ending to a memorable evening.
"On another occasion, I was going to see her at Trumpets in Lincoln Park, N.J. I have never been an avid autograph collector, but I decided to bring my copy of her autobiography, Hard Times High Times, and politely ask her sign it. When I got there, she was talking with Amos Kaune, the club's owner. So I waited for their conversation to end before approaching her.
"When she and Amos parted, I walked up to her and made my request. She curtly responded 'I'm on my time now,' and headed straight to the bar for a drink.
"After the first set, Amos announced that Anita would be at the bar during the break and would sign autographs. I swallowed my pride and headed over to the bar, book in hand.
"Upon asking her again to sign the book, she took it with a big grin on her face, signed it and proceeded to go through the pictures, describing to me and others the circumstances behind the photos. I began to wonder if she was ever going to return the book to me.
"The pianist, who must have been familiar with her quirks, simply shrugged his shoulders, and proceeded to play another arpeggio that seemed to satisfy her. The show went on."
JazzWax clip: I'm not sure where this footage comes from (if you know, please leave a Comment), but it's truly extraordinary. For one, Anita can tell a story as well as she can sell a song. For another, she delivers her story almost journalistically, without any analysis or performance. And watch carefully at the end how her expression steadily downshifts into deep sadness...
In the summer of 1958, Johnny Richards took his orchestra into a Warner Bros. studio in New York to record the soundtrack for a low-budget film that was being shot in Cuba. The movie was Kiss Her Goodbye, starring Elaine Stritch as a young woman who loses her sanity. Richards asked David Allyn to sing the title theme. More with David in a minute. [Photo of Johnny Richards in 1947 by William P. Gottlieb]
But when Fidel Castro seized power in Cuba in January 1959, he confiscated the film, which was still in production, as property of the revolution. The film was never released, and Warner Bros. promptly bagged the LP project. But as Todd Selbert writes in his liner notes to the newly issued Johnny Richards: Kiss her Goodbye (Uptown), Warner Bros. gave Richards a pre-pressing of the LP. I assume this is what was used for this new CD. Unfortunately, details about the source material and how Uptown came into its possession aren't included in the notes.
Richards is one of the finest high-concept orchestral composers and arrangers of the 1950s. His best known original, Young at Heart, was written for a Frank Sinatra film of the same name in 1954. As an arranger for Stan Kenton, he was responsible for Cuban Fire (1956), Back to Balboa (1958) and West Side Story (1961). His work as a leader was even more striking and bombastic. Two prime examples are Something Else (1956) and Wide Range (1957), which are easily among the finest band albums of the decade.
What makes Richards' style so special are his exotic instrumental textures and moody resolutions. A typical Richards song opens with cinematic drama—French horns or trombones with a ticklish piccolo or crystalline celeste. Then the bass might kick off the beat, with the trumpets, trombones, saxes and other orchestra instruments tearing off to the races. Instead of a blues base, Richards relied on a neo-classical approach that owed a debt to Impressionists like Ravel and modernists like Stravinsky.
Kiss Her Goodbye has all of these elements. Though the sonic quality of this CD isn't sterling due to the source material, it's still exciting music that has not been heard by the public. Here, Richards showcases his entire bag of tricks—the Latinesque sighing and swaying blended with knowing compassion and cigar-chomping aggressiveness.
In addition to the movie score, the new CD includes a track Richards is believed to have arranged from an album by Luis Tiramani's Orchestra called a Touch of Cuba, as well as nine tracks from broadcasts from New York's Birdland in 1959.
After listening to this CD yesterday, I gave David Allyn a call:
"Oh sure I remember recording Kiss Her Goodbye. I have the chart in my big band book. Johnny led a terrific band. His scores were always pretty wild, very heavy and very Kentonized. I enjoyed singing Kiss Her Goodbye and received a big applause from the band afterward. They dug it. [Pictured: David Allyn with Jack Teagarden]
"If I recall, Johnny had the brass playing in the upper register. My notes were half a step different from the brass parts. It was a hard song to sing, but great just the same. The song was written by Johnny, but I don't know who wrote the lyric. It could have been Johnny's wife, Blanca Webb.
"You really had to sing that chart. There was no fooling around there."
JazzWax tracks:Johnny Richards: Kiss Her Goodbye (Uptown) is available here. This is a highly worthwhile album. It should be noted that the Birdland tracks have never before been issued and should not be confused with the tracks released on CD years ago on Live in Hi-Fi by the Canadian Jazz Hour label. Those Birdland broadcasts were from 1957 and 1958.
Something Else, Wide Range and several other Johnny Richards albums are now available at iTunes.
For more on Johnny Richards at JazzWax, go here,here and here.
JazzWax clip: There are no video clips from the new album on YouTube but I did find Long Ago and Far Awayhere, from Richards' Something Else. All of Richards' arrangements tended to be extremely difficult, and he typically brought in only the finest players and readers. For example, the trumpets here were Pete Candoli, Buddy Childers and Maynard Ferguson. The flugelhorn? Shorty Rogers...
My favorite Anita O'Day album for Verve is Anita O'Day and Billy May Swing Rodgers and Hart. Interestingly, O'Day hated it. Then again, she also disdained Billy May for a variety of reasons. And the feeling was mutual. Recorded in June 1960, the album intermingles ferocious band arrangements and tender string charts on some of the American Songbook's most novel tunes. In nearly every case, O'Day's interpretation is bursting with peppery swing and cool seduction.
O'Day's scrunched-face reaction to the date persisted over time. Even in 2004, when author James Gavin visited O'Day to play the remastered CD for her to add color to his fine liner notes, the singer was ambivalent and edgy. Writes Jim:
"I asked if she had picked any of the songs. 'I think they just laid 'em on me,' she said, shrugging. Five years earlier she had told me more: 'I had them rehearsed at my house a couple of times so I could hear the structure. I learn the words as a poem, and I learn the chords the way it was constructed. The game is to put 'em together, and don't falter! But I had no chops, so I had to, like, fake it. And then I found out, like, the faking was better than doing the melody. Yes!"
As Jim also points out in his notes about O'Day's Verve years and her flinty personality...
"Melody Maker reported an exchange between her and trumpeter Don Fagerquist. 'Stop! Stop!' she said angrily, pointing at him. 'What's the matter with you, man? You played exactly the same thing last time. Like play something different, man!'"
O'Day's scorn for Billy May was a style matter. As she wrote in her autobiography with George Eells...
"I sketched the tunes on tape and Billy embellished them for the arrangements. Good deal, except that his music was too loud for me, and the engineer put us all on one track, so remixing was impossible. I was always being buried. The needle would be bouncing around the dial making the engineer think my voice was on top of the music, because of my false peaks.
"Once when I complained the strings were too loud, Billy bristled: 'Get your own fucking orchestra.' Inside I flared, but outside I smiled: 'Too late, Billy. I've already had my own band.' Humor got us through."
Whatever O'Day's beefs with this album, many of her sonic nit-picks were resolved on the 2004 remastering. At the time of the recording, O'Day was addicted to heroin, which didn't seem to have much of an impact on her phrasing though years later could have made her more sensitive to results. As for her salty and impatient personality, O'Day's burning desire to take creative risks and produce spectacular results often left others in the dust, particularly those who were overloaded with studio work and may have been tapped out. On the other hand, Rodgers and Hart wasn't an easy date. Johnny One Note needed 12 takes, and the others averaged five each.
Nevertheless, every track on Rodgers and Hart is an stunning knockout. Has anyone ever put over Ten Cents a Dance more convincingly? What about the hand-on-hip delivery of Hart's fabulous lyrics to To Keep My Love Alive? And catch O'Day surfing the swinging sax writing on I Could Write a Book. Doesn't get much better than this, and each track comes with its own special qualities.
While the band does overshadow O'Day in places, the writing is so spirited you hardly notice. Russ Garcia produced, which makes me think he may have played a strong, uncredited role in the string charts and possibly the orchestrations. I'll ask him.
For now, listen hard to this gem. The band is powerful, turning this date into a batting-cage job for O'Day, who swings for the fences on each song—but always with charm and finesse.
JazzWax tracks: You'll find Anita O'Day and Billy May Swing Rodgers and Hart at iTunes or here. Dig these samples. These tracks are so delightfully upbeat and addictive.
JazzWax clip: Unfortunately, I couldn't find a single track from Rodgers & Hart on YouTube. But here'sLet's Fall in Love from three years later in Sweden. Dig the neck muscles under O'Day's chin toward the end of the clip, giving you a fine sense of where her enormous power and control come from...
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."
