Artie Shaw hated movie studios. As early as the late 1930s, he detested the way studio bosses abused stars and the seemingly inane demands they made on actors, writers and musicians. He also found that the hours spent waiting around studios between filming takes was a waste of time, and he abhorred how the studios sucked the independence out of anyone with talent.
Shaw first appeared in a short in 1932 called The Yacht Party as an uncredited orchestra member. He made three shorts with his band in 1939 and recorded the soundtrack toThe Dancing Co-Ed that same year.
By then, Shaw was at the height of his popularity, turning out hit after hit. At one point in 1939, thanks to successful radio shows and a lucrative recording contract, Shaw was earning $60,000 a week (close to $1 million in today's dollars)—a staggering figure in the Depression, even for Hollywood.
In the autumn of 1940, Shaw broke his own rule and made his first and only feature-length movie—Second Chorus. Though the film resulted in two Oscar nominations for Shaw—one for Best Score and one for Best Song ("Love of My Life")—by the end of filming he vowed never to repeat the experience. And he didn't.
Here's Artie Shaw, in Tom Nolan's Three Chords for Beauty's Sake: The Life of Artie Shaw:
"I took that picture on the proviso that I would be able to rewrite any language they put in my mouth; I'm playing 'Artie Shaw' again, in a fictional situation. So, you know, I was working with people I knew. We were supposed to have John Garfield, and it was gonna be a serious story about a young trumpet player.
"Anyway—Boris Morros, the producer, didn't get along with Jack Warner, and Jack Warner rescinded his deal to lend us Garfield. So we didn't have a star!
"So uh—our friend Borris Morros, comes over to the Chateau Marmont, where we were working—says I got a staah!' We say, 'Who you got?' 'Fred Astaire.' I said, 'Wait a minute! This is a serious story about a trumpet player!' 'So you'll change the story.' Well, at that point—that's the last movie I ever did, the last movie I ever would do."
Here's the entire film. Interestingly, Shaw had virtually no on-camera chemistry, and his acting ability was wooden at best. It's also probably Astaire's worst film. The music, however, was a different matter. Thanks to Greg Lee for reminding me of the film:
Back in 1955, R&B was already rock and roll. Little Richard, Chuck Berry and other artists were pioneering a new form that was highly theatrical, distinctly integrated in appeal, and loaded with sexual overtones. What isn't well-documented is the battle that was brewing within R&B. As rock and roll expanded, the form not only began crowding-out jazz but also shoved aside the older, more formal 78-era R&B styles.
In the following full video of the Rhythm and Blues Review (sent along by record-promoter legend Dick LaPalm), you can see that the film was an attempt to revive the form that thrived prior to the invasion by brasher and more outrageous artists of the 45-rpm era.
Oddly, while the small type at the bottom of the movie's opening credits says the date of the film is 1955, it must have been filmed earlier over a series of dates and pieced together—probably in 1950 and 1951. The artists, their dress and their performances clearly aren't mid-50s. For one, Nat Cole was a huge TV star in 1955 and Sarah Vaughan was well on her way. And Basie's group with Clark Terry, Buddy DeFranco and Wardell Gray was a 1950-51 ensemble. [Pictured above: Big Joe Turner]
In fact, Basie's discography shows him in New York with this group in October 1950, appearing in a "Snader telescription film." Snader produced the Rhythm and Blues Revue for television. The 1955 date must have been tied into the proliferation of TV sets nationwide. In 1955, 77% of American households owned at least one set v. 56% a year earlier. In 1950? Only 9%. [Pictured above: Buddy DeFranco]
By 1955, there was a sufficient older audience of black and white TV viewers in specific markets to make the revue's production and leasing to stations profitable.
Starting back in 1958, Prestige Records, began creating brand lines to appeal to different types of consumers. It launched Swingville, Bluesville and Moodsville. Each provided buyers with a self-evident signal as to the general type of jazz inside. On Moodsville releases, the music by leading jazz musicians generally moved at the pace of your pulse and was meant to be played as background for a romantic evening, dinner or just relaxing.
Among the finest Moodsville recordings—and there were quite a few—were the ones by tenor saxophonist Eddie "Lockjaw" Davis. During the late '50s and early '60s, the tough tenor was a hard-charging exclamation point whether backed by trio, a soul-gospel organ or Count Basie's band. But on ballads—really slow ones—Davis had room to snort, shove notes around and proudly exhibit his huge, bossy sound on the reed instrument.
In January 1960, Davis recorded on the Moodsville label with Shirley Scott. Known primarily for her work on the Hammond organ, Scott here plays piano, which gives you a chance to hear her in a different space. The pair was supported exquisitely by bassist George Duvivier and drummer Arthur Edgehill. [Photo of Shirley Scott at the piano by Francis Wolff]
Each of the 10 songs featured virtually the exact same seductive, walking tempo, and all the songs were standards that suited Davis perfectly. Album tracks were The Man I Love, Serenade in Blue, What's New, Man With a Horn, It Could Happen to You, I Cover the Waterfront, The Very Thought of You and Smoke Gets in Your Eyes.
Great players like Davis and Scott could leave a cloud of dust when playing uptempo. But they also could break your heart on the crawlers. This is a fine example of that side of their personalities, particularly the clarity of their improvisation and Davis' gruff touches.
JazzWax tracks: I'm not sure why Prestige hasn't
reissued all of these Moodsville albums in a set, but such is life. You'll find seven of the tracks on Moodsville, Vol. 4 on Eddie "Lockjaw" Davis with Shirley Scott: The Complete Cookbook Sessionshere. While it's not as "complete" as the title would lead you to believe, since not all the Moodsville, Vol 4 tracks are here, the fidelity is absolutely fantastic.
A special JazzWax thanks to David Langner.
JazzWax clip: Here's an example of how beautifully Eddie "Lockjaw" Davis played on a ballad—and how gifted Shirley Scott was on the piano as accompanist...
Today, Andre Previn is viewed by many jazz fans as a jazz pretender—a dyed-in-the wool classical pianist and conductor and a prolific film composer who can manage jazz impersonation but shouldn't really be considered among jazz's piano greats.
All of which is complete nonsense if you are aware of Previn's early jazz recordings. If you aren't, it's not your fault. Most of his pre-1956 leadership sessions for RCA languish in vaults someplace, so all you probably know are his West Coast jazz sideman dates of the late '50s for labels such as Contemporary and MGM.
While it's true that Previn made his name in the movie business and that he is an accomplished classical pianist and conductor, his pre-1956 jazz chops were impeccable—as sharp and as swinging as George Shearing's and as robust and as fast as Oscar Peterson's.
Now, before you get all twisted in a knot over what I've just said, find and listen to the recordings I'm writing about today. If I had simply put up a track today and asked you to guess who was playing, I'm fairly certain few if any readers would have guessed correctly. And that's my point: Previn may be jazz's most overlooked and undiscovered piano monster.
Previn was born in Germany in 1929 or 1930 (his birth certificate was lost). He escaped Nazi Germany with his family in 1938, moving to Los Angeles the following year, where Charles Previn, a relative, was music director of Universal Studios.
For whatever reason, Previn's Wikipedia entry skips over his early jazz piano period as though it never existed, beginning instead in the mid-'50s, when he was an integral part of the emerging West Coast jazz-pop scene.
But for 10 years prior, Previn was an enormously gifted and formidable jazz talent—from a technical standpoint and from the perspective of his fluid and brashly confident improvising ideas. Except for a handful of initial recordings for the growing number of micro labels that surfaced in Los Angeles after the first musicians' union ban was completely settled in 1944, most of Previn's leadership trio dates were for RCA.
And yet in his YouTube interviews, Previn is never asked about these years nor does he talk about them. Even his website ignores this period. As for the handful of books written about Previn, I'm not sure which if any probe deep into these years, since none of the books allow you to search the contents online. As a result, this is a lost period and a tremendous shame for jazz fans.
No one can dispute that Previn, at age 81, has had a 100 mile-per-hour career in music—jazz, pop and film, classical pianist, composer and conductor. It's all very frothy and brilliant, to be sure. But for the jazz fan, his most spectacular works remain hidden—eclipsed by his many other pursuits in music and a music industry seemingly indifferent to the genius of Previn's initial prowess. For the record, Previn began as a jazz pianist, and a spectacular one at that.
JazzWax tracks: Previn's first recordings for
Hollywood's Sunset label (1945-46) are on Previn at Sunset (Black Lion) here.
A sampling of Previn's work during
this period can be found on Andre Previn: Hallelujah! (Avid) here.
Previn's 1955 and '56 recording can
be found on Previn's Touch (Fresh Sound) here.
JazzWax clips: I made a bold statement above that few readers would have been able to tell who was playing if I had put up a clip or two without naming the artist. Here's the blindfold test I would have given you if you were over at my place on a Saturday morning:
It's that time of year—when I pick my classic holiday jazz or pop album. The rules are simple: It has to be an old recording, it has to have escaped most people's radar, and it has to have retained a certain holiday charm—not too sappy and not too earnest. Just timeless fun that brings to mind crackling fireplaces, the smell of toasted marshmallows and the nip of snow. My 2012 pick? Duke Pearson's Merry Ole Soul. [Photo above of Duke Pearson by Francis Wolff]
Recorded in February and August 1969, pianist Pearson was joined by bassist Bob Cranshaw, drummer Mickey Roker and percussionist Airto Moreira. The song selections are a mix of children's songs, ballads and traditional numbers—Sleigh Ride, Little Drummer Boy, Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas, Jingle Bells, Old Fashioned Christmas, Santa Claus Is Coming to Town, Go Tell It on the Mountain, Wassail Song, Silent Night and O Little Town of Bethlehem.
What makes this album special is Pearson's hushed way of telling each song's story on the keyboard, complete with joyous, soulful touches and surprising introductions and smart arrangements. Perfect vintage holiday cheer.
JazzWax tracks: You'll find Duke Pearson's Merry Ole
Soul on Duke Pearson Mosaic Select box—though the set is now out of print. Two of the tracks can be found as downloads here. If you want the Japanese import, it will set you back $466. Or just listen at YouTube here.
JazzWax clip: Here's Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas (roll your cursor to the left of the song title in the bar below and click the "play" arrow that appears):
David Allyn (1919-2012), whose singing career began at about the same time as Frank Sinatra's but won audiences' hearts with a more intimate and vulnerable style—unusual for male vocalists at the time—died on November 21 at the Veterans Administration Hospital in West Haven, Conn. He was 93.
David's appeal rested with his ability to sift unrestrained sensitivity with modern voicings—making little-known ballads and swingers sound heartfelt and hip. By rubbing the two together, David was able to keep his interpretations from sounding too heavy or too cool.
During my conversations with David, he said his emotional transparency owed much to his early work with trombonist Jack Teagarden, who taught him how to cry. In other words, Teagarden's wailing trombone helped David embrace his natural emotional core rather than mask it. [Pictured above: David Allyn and Jack Teagarden]
I saw David last in 2010, when he was present at Dizzy's Club Coca-Cola in New York. Johnny Mandel was conducting the DIVA Jazz Orchestra. During our conversation at the performance, David was spry and animated, and he became even more so when he and Johnny conversed near the bandstand after the first show. Both had been in Boyd Raeburn's band in the mid-40s and had remained friends through the years. [Pictured above: David Allyn and Johnny Mandel in 2010]
David's desire to succeed commercially was undercut by years of addiction in the late 1940s and early 1950s, which ultimately led to a multiyear prison term mid-decade.
Many people were unaware that David's addiction began as he grappled with the psychological effects of serving in World War II. Deployed to North Africa in 1943 as part of the Big Red One, David survived nerve-splitting attacks by German forces at the Kasserine Pass in Tunisia, only to be injured in the Battle of El Guettar and then sent home. As David told me, "I tried to hold myself together the best I could."
As David recalled, he could get on the bandstand after the war and sing, but socially he was reclusive. "I couldn’t stand people because of the war," he said. In the years after the war—before the development of medication to treat post-traumatic stress disorder—many veterans with psychological issues self-medicated with illegal narcotics.
By the time David emerged from prison in the late 1950s, he had kicked his habit but remained a highly tender but largely unknown recording artist and performer. His prison period had deprived him of crucial recording years—missing out on key opportunities to establish his name and reputation.
When the music business changed in the early 1960s, David, like vocalist Jackie Paris, was largely a club nostalgia act whose skills were appreciated more by musicians and audiences in the know than the mass market. Nevertheless, David throughout his life remained a highly admired and respected artist, able to hold his own with West Coast big bands and East Coast artists including pianist Barry Harris.
Paul Cammarata, a friend of David's who in 1990 encouraged him to emerge from semi-retirement to lead his big band at New York's Red Blazer, just posted Pleasant Dreams, a rare single written by David with Steve Allen and recorded in 1959...
Wall Street Journal. In case you missed yesterday's
Wall Street Journal, I had two pieces in the paper. One was an anatomy of "Oh Happy Day," a 1969 hit by the Edwin Hawkins Singers (go here). The other was a conversation with architect Frank Gehry on his home (go here).
Oliver Nelson in Hollywood. Soprano saxophonist Bill Kirchner sent along this video clip from the Longstreet TV series, featuring a score by Oliver Nelson...
Whyd unveiled. Whyd is a free social music platform designed for music lovers to keep, play and share all of the music they find online. The company describes itself as the missing link between places where people post
streaming music—like YouTube and Soundcloud—and places where people share music, like Facebook and Twitter. Whyd's player allows you to listen to all of your music without interruption. You also can listen to anyone's playlist or find any song you wish. For more information, go here.
JazzWax Holiday Album Hall of Fame. On Monday I'll name this year's classic addition to the JazzWax Holiday Album Hall of Fame from Decembers past. Previous inductees include June Christy's This Time of Year (1961) and Urbie Green's Cool Yuletide (1954).
CD discoveries of the week. Saxophonist Eric Person's Thoughts on God(Distinction) isn't quite what you'd think. Instead of a heavy hymn workout, this is an
inspirational album with soaring jazz originals and tight arrangements by Person. The 12-track suite is dedicated to the Lord, but the music by this 13-piece band is secular and universal in appeal. Sample Back to Center and The Lighted Way. A deeply moving album in the spirit of John Coltrane and Mary Lou Williams.
For the People (Origin), by trumpeter Pharez Whitted, has an ambitious, wide-body sound that seems to move on you from all sides. The current director of jazz studies
at Chicago State University, Whitted composed all of the album's tracks, which assume a percussive, sighing mood. On all tracks, Whitted dances delicately on solo lines, preferring to seduce with invented melodies rather than sheer heat. The album's best moments are Whitted's musical conversations with guitarist Bobby Broom. Sample the title track, Venture and Hope Springs Eternal. A rigorous and tightly arranged ensemble working through songs that adore melody lines.
In addition to being a superb jazz pianist, Bruce Barth is quite the musical director. On LaVerne Butler's Love Lost and Found Again (HighNote), Bruce frames the singer with a sultry accompaniment that includes tenor saxophonist Houston Person. For example, On Any
Place I Hang My Hat Is Home, Bruce's arrangement and piano is just enough to provide support but never steals the show. The tracks tastefully chosen here by Bruce and Butler include I've Told Every Little Star, Travelin' Light, That's All and the brilliant Everybody's Somebody's Fool. In each case Bruce is a nimble collaborator, and Butler soars. A jazz vocal album that fully understands the ingredients needed to be more than just another Tin Pan Alley dishrack.
When Patsy Cline's plane went down over Camden, Tenn., in 1963, America lost one of its most sincere and controlled country vocalists. On the Air: Patsy Cline's Greatest TV Performances (Universal) is a collection of hits that she delivered on a variety of broadcasts. What's
remarkable is that the results are as good and as taut as her studio work, which is a testament to her craft and power. Best of all, this set's tracks are crisp and clear—free from the common crackle and lost generation of on-air sound. In addition to jukebox bait Crazy, I Fall to Pieces and Leavin' on Your Mind, there also are superb renditions of She's Got You, Strange, When I Get Through With You and So Wrong. More spun gold from the balladeer belle, this time in a live setting.
Back in the mid-1960s, when the Velvet Underground was pioneering a new independent rock concept sound in New York and The Doors were doing the same in Los Angeles, the Moving Staircases were taking their own garage risks in Houston. The Moving who? Exactly. Today, the psychedelic proto-arena band is virtually unknown,
except for giving ZZ Top's Billy Gibbons his start. Now Moving Sidewalks: The Complete Collection (Rock Beat) documents the band's relatively small output—one album, a handful of singles and a bunch of unreleased and alternate takes. But what exists is indisputably cutting-edge. Sample 99th Floor, Flashback, You Make Me Shake, Crimson Witch and a metal I Want to Hold Your Hand from 1968. An acid-washed rock band that was ahead of its time but unable to go the distance. More on the band and the ZZ Top connection at YouTube here and here, courtesy of David Perrine.
Oddball album cover of the week.
One look at this cover and you can almost hear the art director with a megaphone yelling at country guitarist Don Gibson: "Need you to look more dejected Don. A little more. A little more. Really sad, Don, like you lost everything and don't know why. That's it—now hold it."
Following my post on Lalo Schifrin last week, I received an email from JazzWax reader Andre Hunt, reminding me that there was a third San Francisco detective for whom Lalo composed a suspenseful score. In addition to Bullitt and four of the five Dirty Harry films, there was TV's T.H.E. Cat.
As Andre notes...
"Being born in 1950, I was primed for my Friday nights with TV music from Man From Uncle and, following it, T.H.E. Cat. When that theme first came on, with it's stylized visuals, I remember the goose bumps. It was killer.
"So about two years ago I found somebody who had the entire series on low-fi DVD. The first episode had more music than dialogue. And very little dialogue. It was a sea of bongo grooves and bossa nova. They always went back to the club and hung out, and invariably some guest star would be singing with the house band. I couldn't believe it at the time. [Pictured above: Robert Loggia as T.H.E. Cat]
"Sadly, the show and the album were never released on DVD. But you can hear the theme in an episode up at YouTube (the music starts at 3:00 and the theme can be found at 5:37."
Here's that episode of T.H.E. Cat in three parts, complete with Lalo Schifrin's music, courtesy of Andre...
It's Thanksgiving here in America and, as I have done for the past three years, I'm serving up a musical feast. Please, don't stand there—come in, come in. While you won't smell turkey roasting or pie baking here at JazzWax, I do have quite a menu of songs to offer you that should fill you up and keep you amused:
The jazz life isn't hard. Life is hard, and it just so happens that jazz artists express their ups and downs through music—from swing to blues. Here's another terrific BBC documentary, this time on Billie Holiday, who channeled a lifetime of abuse and self-destruction into art that still touches everyone who hears her recordings...
The Ramones were important for two reasons: First, they were the antithesis of where rock was headed in 1974—out of clubs and small theaters and into indoor arenas. And second, the Ramones' garage-minimalist sound and outcast outrage wound up influencing a generation of punk and new wave groups that followed. Inspired by Paul McCartney's use of the pseudonym Paul Ramon, band members all took the last name—Ramone. [Picured above: Jeffry Ross Hyman, a.k.a. Joey Ramone]
Perhaps the finest documentary on the band is End of the Century: The Story of the Ramones. Here's the documentary in its entirety. Thanks to Tom Fine for sending along the link:
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."
