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To get this Thanksgiving week off to a proper start, here are seven clips I came across just for this occasion [pictured above: the Pied Pipers]
The Ink Spots and If I Didn't Care...
The Pied Pipers and Dream...
The Mel-Tones, sans Mel, with Lullaby of Broadway...
The Mills Brothers with Till Then...
The Four Freshmen with Poinciana...
And the Crew Chiefs with Serenade in Blue...
We live in a free society. I'm not talking about our civil liberties, which are precious, of course. I mean that increasingly, companies expect us to do things for nothing. [Pictured above: Chair Over Point Wisconsin by Ruth Thorne-Thomsen, 1983]
Musicians have experienced the free world for years. Most jazz clubs pay talent 1990s wages because their costs have gone up, profit margins are tight and they know musicians love what they do and won't put up too much of a fuss. We all know musicians who play for free just to perform in front of an audience.
We're a little guilty, too. Ever since burning CDs began in 2002 followed by the introduction of the flashdrive, we've come to think of recorded music as being free. And YouTube, with its many audio clips of records spinning on a turntable, has turned the democratic video service into the world's greatest audio jukebox.
So a free lunch has become a national mindset. The latest manifestation of this "why pay?" culture is the customer survey. Thanks to the internet, companies have found a way around multimillion-dollar focus groups—where participants are paid and fed to give their views so that companies can figure out the best way to market their products.
Now, whether you've rented a car, ordered a book or used a washroom, you can expect an email from the service provider asking you to complete a survey on your happiness or dissatisfaction. These surveys are often positioned as a way for the company to ensure that the service you receive from companies rolling forward will improve.
The truth is that service never really changes. What stinks continues to stink, and what's great stays great—largely because of management priorities and employee motivation. There are reasons why most phone companies provide lousy service and GoDaddy has phenomenal service.
The reality is these surveys are merely tools to confirm what companies already believe—that they're doing a great job. In-house, negative remarks are often considered to have come from cranks.
Personally, I always skip completing these surveys. My feeling is if my opinion is valuable, you probably should at least offer to discount my next purchase. And if the value of my opinion is zero, then zero is the number of opinions you'll receive. Hey, I'm sorry. Time is money. Besides, if companies cared in the first place, the service would be great and they wouldn't have to ask for free advice.
Coleman Hawkins and Teddy Wilson radio. WKCR in New York will hold its annual Coleman Hawkins Birthday Celebration by broadcasting the Hawk's music for 24 hours on Wednesday, November 21... Then WKCR will celebrate Teddy Wilson for four straight days—starting on Thanksgiving and ending on November 25. You can tune in anywhere in the world on your computer by going here.
Jessica Ferber, still going strong. Last week I posted about Jessica Ferber, who has a Kickstarter fund-drive going to raise enough money to product a book of jazz photographs by the late Robert James Campbell. She's closing in on her goal. If you haven't see her video, here it is...
Good Vibrations. Footage from the 1966 Beach Boys recording session and interviews with those who were there. Go here.
Oddball album cover of the week.
Hard to know what this 1960 cover says about Harry James except that he was modern (jet travel had just begun), loud and tended to wander off when he should have been picking up his bags.
Welcome to the media site for Why Jazz Happened (University of California Press)—the first social history of jazz from World War II to Watergate. Below you'll find links to contact info, a bio, upcoming appearances, reviews, interviews and a book excerpt.
Contact info
Click here to reach author Marc Myers for an interview, speaking engagement or high-resolution images.
Click here to reach Alexandra Dahne, publicity director at the University of California Press.
Upcoming appearances
Feb. 4— 92Y Tribeca/200 Hudson St., New York; noon to 1 p.m. For this multimedia event, I will be talking about why jazz styles
changed so often
between 1942 and 1972—using music tracks and
large-screen images to illustrate the dramatic changes. Tickets: $21. Go here. Need directions? Go here.
Book summary
Billed as the "first social history of jazz," Why Jazz Happened looks at the unlikely political, business,
social, cultural and technological events that forced jazz styles to change between 1942 and 1972—jazz's golden era.
Author bio
Marc Myers is a frequent contributor to the Wall Street Journal,
where he writes about jazz, rock, soul and R&B
as well as art and
architecture. His daily JazzWax.com column was named "2012 Blog of the Year" by the Jazz Journalists Association. Myers began
his career at the New York Times and has a masters degree in U.S. history from Columbia University. [Author photo by Hank O'Neal]
Purchase
Review blurbs"If you want to know why jazz changed so often between 1942 and 1972, Why Jazz Happened is a good place to start. Marc Myers has made a serious contribution to the discussion about how jazz went from a practical art entertaining dancers to one aimed at listeners." —Tim Marchman, the Wall Street Journal
"I lived and breathed this period during my extensive career in jazz, and this book brings a new perspective to the music's golden era." —Creed Taylor, multi-Grammy Award-winning jazz producer.
"Why Jazz Happened will shape the way all subsequent commentators think and write about jazz history." —Terry Teachout, author of Pops, A Life of Louis Armstrong.
"A deeply illuminating and engaging portrait of the essence of jazz as it is experienced by the musicians themselves." —Nat Hentoff, author of At the Jazz Band Ball: Sixty Years on the Jazz Scene.
"Myers’s first-rate social history, like a great jazz recording, pulls us into its complex rhythms and harmonies, casting its mesmerizing spell." —Publisher's Weekly
"In a cogent manner, Myers gives compelling evidence for the many non-musical reasons that influenced jazz's evolution in the 30-year period from the 1940s to the 1970s." —Ian Patterson, All About Jazz
"The book is consistently lively because Marc, like the best investigator, is deeply curious and not easily satisfied with the pat answers previous works have (sometimes) offered. And his curiosity has taken him to contemporary reporting . . . but most often it has taken him to the primary sources." —Michael Steinman, Jazz Lives
"A readable volume an academic can appreciate, being sourced with lots of Myers' original interviews. But any casual history buff or random dude who owns a Miles Davis album would dig it too." —Patrick Jarenwattananon, A Blog Supreme.
"Deftly written to accommodate those who don’t know much about jazz, Myers’ matter-of-fact style holds a steady rhythm." — JazzTimes publisher Lee Mergner, reviewing in Northeastern
"[Why Jazz Happened] aims to dissect what was happening offstage and how changes in the broader cultural and political zeitgeist propelled the music forward...a vividly detailed and well-researched book." —Jon Ross, Downbeat
"Why Jazz Happened does an excellent job of exploring the most significant period in the history of the music. It is hard to believe that so many changes happened in just 27 years. This is a fascinating read, and one I think every jazz fan will enjoy." —Greg Barbrick, BlogCritics.com
"In Why Jazz Happened, Marc Myers of JazzWax.com has given us an important contribution, but this is a contribution with a difference....A refreshing aspect of the book is its richly nuanced treatment of the relationship between commerce and creative individuality." —George H. Smith, Reason.com
Interviews + mentions
Tom Reney of New England Public Radio.
Publisher's Weekly's "Our Favorite Books We Read in 2012" list.
Salon.com—Scott Timberg's Did the American Songbook Kill Jazz?
Interview—Scott Timberg at The Misread City.
Interview—Ron Wynn at the Nashville Scene.
Literary blog mentions—Marshal Zeringue here, here and here.
Podcast—Chris Cowles on WRTC (Hartford, Conn.).
Interview—Jeffrey Siegel on Straight No Chaser.
Interview—Mark Hayes's Passing Notes on WDNA (Miami).
Table of ContentsChapter One (Excerpt)
On February 16, 1944, a dozen jazz musicians met at a New York studio to record three songs for Apollo Records. The band's leader was the tenor saxophonist Coleman Hawkins, who at age 39 was the oldest jazz musician present and easily the most famous. Almost five years earlier, Hawkins had recorded Body and Soul, on which he seemed to improvise seamlessly for about three minutes without once playing the famed song's original melody—except for the opening four bars. Hawkins's brash reworking of the Tin Pan Alley standard had become a jukebox hit for RCA Victor and made Hawkins a saxophone sensation. But jazz reputations in the 1940s required reinvention and fresh achievement. To remain ahead of the creative curve, Hawkins frequently invited younger jazz musicians to challenge him in clubs—a risky move because it exposed him to a possible besting by up-and-comers. But the open invitation also allowed Hawkins to stay sharp and remain in control. The musicians who assembled that day for the Apollo Records session were both his admirers and his stylistic rivals.
The February 16 gathering at Apollo was the label's very first recording session. Apollo had been founded just weeks earlier by Teddy Gottlieb, the white owner of the Rainbow Music shop on 125th St., one of Harlem's most popular record stores. With the Apollo label, Gottlieb hoped to create a pipeline for his record shop by having musicians re-create on disc the excitement of Harlem's after-hours clubs. He also fully expected the label's records to sell well in the store's neighborhood, particularly among younger buyers who weren't old enough to gain entry to the clubs. In Gottlieb's favor was the Rainbow Music Shop's regular sponsorship of the After Hours Swing Session, an overnight radio show on WHOM hosted by "Symphony Sid" Torin. The animated disc jockey had been on the air in New York since 1937, spinning jazz records by black musicians, and the show was revered by Harlemites.
What Gottlieb did not know—and could not have known on February 16, 1944—was that Apollo Records was about to make history. On that day, Hawkins and the other musicians—trumpeters Dizzy Gillespie, Vic Coulsen and Eddie Vanderveer; the saxophonist Leo Parker, Leonard Lowry, Don Byas, Ray Abrams and Budd Johnson; the pianist Clyde Hart; the bassist Oscar Pettiford; and the drummer Max Roach—would take part in what is now considered the first commercial bebop recording. The music they recorded that February wasn't known officially then as "bebop"—it was too new, and the word bebop wouldn't be used in print to describe the new style of jazz until later in the year, when magazine writers needed a snappy word to summarize the animated style. But the musical language of bebop—with its strange-sounding notes and breakneck tempos—had been developing aggressively over the preceding years, at jam sessions and in black bands...
But if Gillespie and other bebop pioneers—including the alto saxophonist Charlie Parker, the drummer Kenny Clarke and the pianist Bud Powell—had been developing the jazz form since 1941 and 1942, why did it take until February 1944 to record the music? And how did a frantic form of improvised music played mostly by black musicians in dimly lit nightclubs for audiences seated in chairs rather than moving about on dance floors manage to become a national sensation four years later—not to mention jazz's predominant style?
I fully appreciate Duke Ellington's importance and contribution to jazz. But for the longest time I've never been overly nuts about his music. For years, I felt that a large percentage of his works were wound too tight, oppressively mannered and sticky-fancy in places. But that's largely ignorance talking, since I've never really given Ellington a serious chance. [Photo above of Duke Ellington at the 1956 Newport Jazz Festival by Don Hunstein]
Part of my resistance stems from an event that occurred when I was 14 years old. After waiting an hour for Ellington to appear at an August 19, 1972 benefit concert organized by Stan Getz at the Lyndhurst Estate in Tarrytown, N.Y., a bunch of us pint-size fans extending sheet music for a signature were rudely brushed aside by a huffy Ellington who was running late.
The other part of my resistance has been my inability to find the Ellington period that appealed to me most. I've long gotten over the snub, and now I've also found my own private Dukesville—a seven-year period in the 1950s that is breathtaking.
On Nov. 6, Sony/Legacy released Duke Ellington: The Complete Columbia Studio Albums Collection: 1951-1958. Produced by Michael Cuscuna and Michael Brooks, and mastered by Mark Wilder and Maria Triana, this new set will knock you out. Each of the nine discs comes in a thick, mini-LP sleeve with the original front and back covers. The sound is big and warm and sprinkled with vivid sonic detail. From the piano and drums to the horns and reeds, all of Ellington's colors and flavors are on full display and the result is magnificent.
The 1950s were a golden period for jazz. After a worrisome dive in 1950 and 1951 as Columbia and RCA battled to promote their new formats—the 33 1/3 LP and the 45rpm—jazz musicians began to find work again and recording opportunities bloomed as both formats were adopted by the marketplace.
But the big event in the 1950s was the surge of the 12-inch LP in 1955. The 12-inch album was aimed squarely at the home market and helped by emerging national record chains and label-owned record clubs.
Almost immediately, albums quickly became billboards for jazz artists who were featured in photographs on covers and in liner notes on the back. As fidelity improved along with playback technology, jazz soon attained a prestigious place in American music. Jazz musicians who wondered how much longer the music would last in 1950 suddenly became prominent again. Ellington became a hi-fi superstar.
Part of the credit for jazz's high-end makeover goes to Columbia producers George Avakian and Irving Townsend, who viewed the music as larger than life and made sure that amazing artists like Ellington, Miles Davis, Louis Armstrong and Dave Brubeck received the same first-class treatment that the label's classical violinists and pop singers received. To George Avakian and Irving Townsend, jazz was high culture on par with art, architecture and sculpture.
With this background, you find yourself listening to these albums in awe. Among the highlights: Vagabonds from Masterpieces by Ellington (1951), Skin Deep and Harlem Suite from Ellington Uptown (1952); Me and You and Blue Rose, the title track from the album recorded with singer Rosemary Clooney (1956); The Telecasters, with Harry Carney on baritone sax, from Such Sweet Thunder (1956); The Sky Fell Down, Cop-Out and Under the Balcony, from Ellington Indigos (1957); Blues in Orbit and Mahalia Jackson's a cappella version of Come Sunday on Black, Brown & Beige (1958); The Peanut Vendor and Got a Date with an Angel from At the Bal Masque (1958); and Early Autumn and Jones from The Cosmic Scene (1958).
If you're like me and haven't completely embraced Ellington, this box will turn your head. You certainly have heard some of this material in bits and pieces. But listening to all nine albums, one after the next, makes you realize that this music is like fine jewelry: It just keeps getting more beautiful with time.
JazzWax tracks: Duke Ellington: The Complete Columbia
Studio Albums Collection: 1951-1958 is available here.
JazzWax clip: Here's Under the Balcony from Ellington Indigos...
Organist Shirley Scott recorded seven albums in 1961— most of them the usual organ-trio suspects for Prestige: blues intermingled with standards plus a couple of dates with new husband and tenor saxophonist Stanley Turrentine. But in November, Scott deviated from the norm for one date—Shirley Scott Plays Horace Silver, with Henry Grimes on bass and Otis "Candy" Finch on drums.
The session seems as though it was of her choosing and even insistence, since she recorded Hip Twist with Turrentine on the same day, returning to the blues-and-standards factory floor. One has to assume Scott was motivated by the release of Silver's Doin' the Thing, his quintet's live recording at New York's Village Gate in May 1961 that, according to Billboard, was out by September.
Scott's playing on the album is blistering all the way through. And plenty funky. Scott works Silver's lines over and over and over, creating swirling and hypnotic grooves. The tracks are Senor Blues, Moon Ray, Sister Sadie, Doodlin', The Preacher and Strollin'. Each rendition is more on fire than the last, proving that Scott, when left to her own choices, was an even bigger and more soulful creative force than is evidenced on her more famous releases.
Here, Scott isn't just a swinger. She shows her gift for the church sound but within Silver's context. But her excellence far exceeds the usual milking of the Hammond. Scott has a clear vision on this album for each track and manages to turn these compositions by Silver into independent works of grand improvisation and dramatic presentation.
JazzWax tracks: I have no idea why Shirley Scott Plays Horace Silver hasn't been issued on CD. Seems a shame,
though, considering how monumental a recording it is. Two of the tracks—The Preacher and Senor Blues—popped up on the 1997 Opus de Funk: The Jazz Giants Play Horace Silver here. But that's about it. You may be able to find it on download sites.
JazzWax clip: How smokin' is this lost album? Here's Shirley Scott on Silver's Strollin'...
The Sunday before Hurricane Sandy veered inland and flooded Northeastern coastal areas, I caught the last flight out of JFK bound for Los Angeles. I was heading west to interview Lalo Schifrin for the Wall Street Journal (go here). As the jet taxied, it seemed only fitting that my conversation with music's master of suspense should start out with real-life, nail-biting drama.
Meeting Lalo was a thrill for me. One of my first exposures to jazz as a kid was Mannix, the TV detective show of the '60s. Lalo's waltz-time theme killed me every time—I couldn't get enough of it and I still love it dearly. When I arrived at his home in Beverly Hills the following day, Lalo came down the stairs to meet me wearing jeans and a vintage dress shirt that had a small blue-and-cream harlequin pattern. Very chill. His black eyeglass frames were wide and pure Hollywood studio, and his silver hair was longish—very conductor's podium. [Pictured above: Mike Connors as Joe Mannix]
Lalo is all about passion and expression, so we immediately hit it off. Despite living in the U.S. for decades, he still has a strong, endearing Argentine-French accent, but he's easy to understand because he fills with emotion quickly when he speaks. As we settled into a thick sofa in the den of his home, which once belonged to Groucho Marx, I could barely make out the questions I brought to ask him. The room was dimly lit, like one of those scenes he scores for suspense films.
For the next two hours we spoke about his growing up in Buenos Aires, his lucky departure from Fascist Argentina to study in Paris on a music scholarship, his close call on the Left Bank when he was nearly deported for working without a permit, his move back to Argentina in 1956, seeing Dizzy Gillespie perform later that year on his U.S. State Department Tour, and Gillespie asking Lalo to come to the U.S. after Lalo performed for him at a reception.
It then took Lalo two years to get a green card and another year to be able to work in New York. When Gillespie asked Lalo to write something for him, Lalo spent a weekend drafting an orchestral jazz suite. The result was Gillespiana, which is easily on par with works by Gil Evans for Miles Davis. The 1960 album put Lalo on the map with jazz artists, and Gillespie invited Lalo to join his quintet. The group toured Europe in 1961.
Let me have Lalo talk a bit...
"Before I left with Dizzy, I met Clarence Avant [pictured above] at the airport. Clarence was Jimmy Smith's personal manager, and Jimmy was also part of the Jazz at the Philharmonic tour. Clarence said, "You arranged Gillespiana, didn't you?" I said yes. Clarence said, "What do you want to do?" I told him I wanted to write for the movies." I wanted a bigger platform for the music I was writing.
"Clarence put me in touch with Creed Taylor [pictured above], who signed me to Verve, which at the time was owned by MGM. Arnold Maxim, the head of the label and a member of the MGM board came to New York often. He loved my Piano, Strings and Bossa Nova album for MGM. Arnold said he had heard I wanted to write for the movies and was able to get me assigned to Rhino! This was 1963, when I moved to Los Angeles."
From then on, Lalo was unstoppable and has had one of the most extraordinary careers in music. Over the past 50 years, he has operated like a music factory, managing six different product lines. He composed and conducted more than 100 movie scores; he recorded about a dozen superb bossa nova albums; he wrote music for TV, composing perhaps the medium's greatest theme of all for Mission: Impossible (winning two Grammys); he recorded dozens of jazz albums (winning another two Grammys); he composed and conducted classical albums; and he worked with the Three Tenors.
And through it all, Lalo has remained upbeat—excited about life and thrilled by jazz. In fact, over dinner two nights later (I was stranded in L.A. after all return flights were cancelled), we must have spent a half hour alone just throwing out the names of artists and talking about favorite jazz albums as his wife Donna and publicist Beth Krakower looked on. We easily could have been there a few more hours.
Before I left for Lalo's, I had taken my cellphone into the New York subway and shot about two minutes of random video: The subway pulling in, boarding the crowded car, more people pouring in and so on. To keep people from freaking out, I held up the phone and pretended I was trying to hear a caller.
I rode a stop, disembarked and climbed the stairs to the street. That's where I viewed what I had captured. It was perfect. In this mini movie, a woman boarded the subway and looked around nervously as she put down her bag.
At Lalo's house during our first meeting, I asked if he'd write theme music for the mini thriller I had filmed. Cautiously, he said, "We'll see." As I played him the video, he looked at the woman and announced, "I don't trust her—she looks like a terrorist." Poor woman, I thought. She's probably a lovely lady. "So can you do it?" I asked. Lalo said, "I will just write music for her—not for the train coming in. You don't have to—it doesn't need music."
Now you're talking, I thought. Lalo got up from the sofa and went over to his piano in the living room and began creating a dark, rumbling theme for her that signaled she was sinister, nefarious and dangerous. It was astonishing to watch the process—from our viewing of the film to listening to him create a minute or so of score.
At the end, Lalo looked up and said something fascinating: "Suspense is in the quiet spaces. Silence makes you anxious because you aren't sure what's coming next. You're concerned." And that's suspense in a nutshell. It's the anticipation, and the music needs to capture that—with dissonant scales and chords and sudden silence.
Then he played the Mannix theme for me (yeah, I told him what I told you above). It was breathtaking. Talk about closure. "You know," he said, "when I was in Vienna recently to receive the Max Steiner Film Music Achievement Award, that's the song everyone wanted me to play—Mannix." Then we both laughed. "No, really," he said, as though I might have thought he was pulling my leg. As Mike Connors probably knows well, the request makes perfect sense.
JazzWax tracks: Wow, where do I begin. As you know, I do enormous amounts of research before conducting interviews for the Wall Street Journal. In this case, that
meant listening to hours and hours of Lalo's bossa nova, jazz and film music. I know, I know—but that's just the way I am. One can't expect to sit down with someone like Lalo unless you are thoroughly versed in his art.
Before I list my favorites, you should know about a four-disc boxed set of his music that was just released. My Life in Music (Aleph) touches on all of his music and is the perfect introduction to his work. You'll find the boxed set here.
OK, here we go (and this just scratches the surface)...
Favorite bossa nova albums
Favorite jazz albums
Lalo won Grammys for arranging two jazz albums: Jimmy Smith's The Cat and Paul Horn's Jazz Suite on the Mass Texts. Here are must-owns...
Favorite soundtracks
JazzWax clips: A few tracks:
Here's Iris from The Liquidator...
Here's On the Way to San Mateo from Bullitt...
And here's Mannix from Lalo's new boxed set My Life in Music...
Last Thursday, my phone rang. On the other end was a young woman who hurriedly began telling me a story, adding that a friend had suggested she contact me. The only words that stuck at the time were "photographs," "Campbell" and "homeless." Since I hear from media relations people all day long promoting one thing or another, I asked her to send me an email and that I'd take a look. She sent along a link to a Kickstarter drive she has launched to raise money for a book project. So I watched her video. Moments after it ended, I called back Jessica Ferber [pictured above].
What a fascinating story, I told her. I also told Jessica that JazzWax readers would probably love to hear more about the story and would certainly want to help contribute to her Kickstarter drive to raise sufficient funds to publish a book of Robert James Campbell's photographs [pictured above].
Rather than spoil a good story, here's our conversation:
JazzWax: So who was Robert James Campbell?
Jessica Ferber: He was a freelance journalist for The Village Voice and Downbeat in the 1950's and 60's. His photos include iconic images taken at the height of New York City’s post-war cultural renaissance. Amazingly, his photo archive has never been printed or viewed by the public.
JW: What did he photograph?
JF: His works cover an array of subject matter—including jazz, entertainment and the Civil Rights movement. His life was rather tragic. After succumbing to numerous challenges that plagued him throughout his life, including mental illness, financial hardships and internal struggles as an artist, Campbell lost everything and returned to his home state of Vermont. In 2001 he passed away in a Burlington, Vt., homeless shelter. [Photo above of Cecil McBee by Robert James Campbell]
JW: Wow, that's terrible. How did you hear about him?
JF: In 2002, I had recently graduated from The University of Vermont as a sociology and photography major and was spending the summer in Burlington. I came home from work one day and my roommate mentioned a project that she was too busy to take on. She told me Campbell’s story as she ran toward the door. [Photo above of Bud Powell by Robert James Campbell]
JW: How did she hear about Campbell?
JF: Our college photography professor Daniel Higgins had been contacted by the homeless shelter where Campbell was residing regarding a “pile of photographs,” including images of jazz musicians. Professor Higgins told her they were looking for a student volunteer to research the images. Even though I had already graduated, I had taken several photo classes with Professor Higgins and grew fascinated by the project when we spoke. [Photo above of Connie Kay by Robert James Campbell]
JW: What did you do?
JF: I drove to the shelter that day. The misnamed pile in their possession turned out to be a vast, unimaginable collection of boxes filled with dusty, warped negatives, journals, odd family relics, film, love letters, bail receipts and all sorts of bizarre ephemera. You name it, it was in there. I had no idea what I had just taken on or that that this deceased stranger, Bob Campbell, would become a permanent fixture in my life. [Photo above of Count Basie by Robert James Campbell]
JW: How did you wind up with the images?
JF: Campbell passed away without a will. After reviewing his collection for the first time in 2002 and realizing that it may have potential value, I was advised by an attorney to run an ad in the local paper to search for rightful heirs. After an unsuccessful search, I was temporarily appointed the Administratrix of the estate. Currently I do not own the archive, but have been representing the collection on behalf of The City of Burlington, which has become the owner. [Photo above of Milt Jackson by Robert James Campbell]
JW: Nine years later, here you are.
JF: Yes, to date, I am the only person who has had the opportunity to research Bob's life and view his photography. It took years for me to piece things together to the point where I had a comprehensive understanding of his collection and his rough life. [Photo above of Wayne Shorter by Robert James Campbell]
JW: Why do you think Campbell’s photos are important—beyond the fact that they're old?
JF: He had this ability to get close to his subjects. You sense immediately that he was genuine and kind and waited for people to be themselves before snapping the shutter. Aside from being a master of his craft, you can tell he also became friends with his subjects. Based on my research, he played music with them, he was in their homes and studios, and they shared drinks and stories. He operated on both sides of the lens. [Photo above of Philly Joe Jones by Robert James Campbell]
JW: Why do you think he did that?
JF: Photo shoots were just jobs for Campbell. But he had this ability to blend into whatever setting he was in and make people feel comfortable very quickly. None of his images appear contrived or staged. I don't know how he did it. This may sound trite, but I think it's because everyone who met him loved him immediately. Take me for example. I never met him, of course, but I instantly had a deep admiration and respect for him. [Photo above of Percy Heath by Robert James Campbell]
JW: Did you have any experience in what you took on?
JF: None. Everything about this project has been a "learn as you go" kind of thing. From the research, to the curating, to the archiving, to the legal parts, publishing pursuits and becoming administrator of an estate at age of 22. It has been a wild ride. Interestingly, Bob Campbell provided me with an education that I didn't expect. Now I am learning about bookbinding and the weights of different types of paper for the book project. I'm actually writing my monthly college-loan check as we speak, and I can't even remember what I learned in those four years. [Photo above of comedian Flip Wilson by Robert James Campbell]
JW: Are you a jazz fan?
JF: Yes! Isn't everyone? I actually appreciate the history and evolution of jazz even more than the music itself in some ways. I don't think people are aware of the triumphs and tragedies that make up the story of jazz. I think that's why Campbell fascinates me. His life is that story. [Photo above: Drummer Night at Birdland by Robert James Campbell]
And isn't this how we all came to jazz? It seems Jessica has discovered the film noir qualities of jazz's story through the accidental encounter with Bob Campbell's photographic legacy.
JazzWax clip: Below is Jessica Ferber's Kickstarter appeal for donations to fund a book of Campbell's images. Go here to Kickstarter to donate. If you're unfamiliar with Kickstarter, it allows you to donate to worthy projects with a credit card. But your money only passes through to the fundraiser if his or her stated financial goal is met. Otherwise, donated sums are refunded to you. Let's give Jessica a financial hand...
Ted Curson, a free jazz and hard bop trumpeter who played with Cecil Taylor and Charles Mingus, and found his small-group groove in the mid-1970s and early '80s, died on November 4. He was 77.
Curson came up at a time in jazz when the music was exploring a range of new forms, all but ignoring the steady rise of rock and the bourgeois needs of jazz audiences. In the '60s, many jazz artists left for Europe, where they were welcomed and celebrated. In Curson's case, he visited Finland frequently, residing for part of the year and playing jazz festivals there annually.
As disco and jazz fusion grew repetitive in the very early '80s and lost their heat, Curson had greater visibility in New York. Acoustic jazz underwent a revival, largely driven by younger audiences who sought the music's original club sound.
For me, Curson's mid-'70s work remains his most searing. One of my favorite Curson leadership dates is Jubilant Power (1976), with Nick Brignola on baritone sax on two tracks.
Here's Ted's Tempo from Jubilant Power. The session personnel: Ted Curson (tp,piccolo-tp,flhrn), Chris Woods (as,fl), Nick Brignola (bar,saxello), Andy LaVerne (p), David Friesen (b), Steve McCall (d) and Sam Jacobs (cga)...
Erwin "Whitey" Thomas, a trumpeter and one of the last members of Glenn Miller's Army Air Force Band, died yesterday in Bakersfield, California. He was 92.
Asked to play trumpet in Miller's civilian band when an existing member became ill, Whitey impressed the trombonist-leader. When World War II started, Whitey was stationed at Fort Bragg, where he again met Miller, who was in the service recruiting an orchestra.
Miller chose Whitey for the trumpet section of his Army Air Force Band, and Whitey was soon transferred to Atlantic City, N.J., for rehearsals and then New Haven, Conn., where Miller's band was based until transferring to England in the summer of 1944. Few bands evoked the sentimental sound of home in a more touching and motivating way for many U.S. servicemen during World War II than Miller's Army Air Force Orchestra, and Whitey was an integral part of that sound. Whitey's grandson tells me Whitey continued to play valve trombone up until about three weeks ago.
Read my 2012 interview with Whitey here.
In tribute to Whitey, here's the April 1944 recording of Holiday for Strings...
CD discoveries of the week. Harry Allen and Scott Hamilton's 'Round Midnight (Challenge) is impossibly tasteful. Grad students of Zoot Sims, Stan Getz and all of the other swinging, Prezzed Hermanites, Allen and Scott
barrel-roll through a wide range of fun material, from straight-uppers like My Melancholy Baby to mid-tempo change-ups like Hey Lock! They're so easy-peasy that the songs here are almost irrelevant, since you know they could do this kind of minxy blowing on Beethoven's 9th. Baubles, Bangles and Beads is given a sandy bossa nova and Lover is taken up-tempo. But the high point for me is Flight of the Foo Birds, the atomic Basie standard by Neal Hefti. These guys are like two pro bowlers lay down strike after strike. If your ears had wings they'd fly away.
I'm not a huge Porgy and Bess fan—I find almost all versions dated and unmoving. But French trumpeter Mederic Collignon's Porgy and Bess (Minium)
from 2006 has managed to get to me. The approach is imaginative, touching and remarkable. Perhaps it's Collignon's patient horn or Franck Woeste's Fender Rhodes or the smart, airy arrangements. Whatever the reason or formula, this is gorgeous stuff, proving that my initial reaction to Gershwin's opera ain't necessarily so.
MusAner's Once Upon a Time (Lucent) is being billed as Armenian folk-jazz fusion. But don't think for a second that this group's album is exotic restaurant music or some kind of Folkways experiment. The musical journey packs
ethnic soul, pastoral imagery and loads of technique. While traditional Armenian instruments are used throughout, the music manages to sit squarely in the jazz camp. All of the songs were composed and arranged by pianist Ara Sarkissian, which is remarkable considering how the efforts straddle two different esthetic worlds. This album proves that every culture's music has jazz tucked away inside, and it's not such a bad thing when the jazz dominates a bit. Trust me, this album is going to knock you out. Also perfect for the holidays.
Recorded nearly five years after Thriller, Michael Jackson's Bad produced five No. 1 hit singles, a sixth in the top 10 and a seventh in the top 20. For fans of the
album, Legacy recently released Bad25, a four-disc box celebrating the album's quarter-century anniversary. Produced by Quincy Jones, Bad is the overlooked third home run by Jackson (Off the Wall being the first). In retrospect, I find Bad more interesting, collectively, than Thriller. There's more bite and surprise on Bad, and the songs are musically more sophisticated. Re-listen to Man in the Mirror, the sly
groove of Don't Be Messin' 'Round and the instrumental tautness of Dirty Diana. Personally, I never quite got the kitschy appeal of Thriller's Halloween-themed title song. Bad25 features the original album; a disc of bonus tracks, unreleased tracks, demos and remixes masters; the live Wembley Stadium concert of July 1988; and a DVD of the same performance. Say what you will, the poor guy really was something.
Oddball album cover of the week. Great Saul Bass-ian cover design, but I'm not sure what car-wash imagery has to do with Bix or his legend.
In my Wall Street Journal article today on Elvis: Prince From Another Planet (go here)—the new three-disc set (two CDs and one DVD) from RCA/Legacy—I write about Presley's only New York arena concert series in June 1972. I did some digging into Presley's fears about performing in New York and discovered what the fuss was all about. It wasn't a fear of critics.
I also spoke to musical director Joe Guercio and pianist Glen D. Hardin, members of Presley's TCB Band in 1972. I also tracked down Mary Malin, daughter of Joe Malin, whose orchestra played behind Presley during in New York. And I spoke to Don Lance, a fan who shot the never-before-seen film footage of the concert that appears on the DVD in the new set. [Pictured above: Joe Guercio and Elvis Presley horsing around]
During my conversation with Joe Guercio, I asked him about the "Joe Malin Orchestra," which was the only credit for the horns and strings on the original double LP and remains so on the new digital set. No personnel is listed.
Joe, it turns out, is a huge jazz fan. He produced Herb Pomeroy's Life Is a Many Splendored Gig in 1957 and Ray Bryant Plays Ray Bryant as well as country and pop albums before joining Presley.
"We didn't want to fly-in Elvis' horns and strings from Las Vegas, which would have been a hassle and a big expense," Joe told me. "Besides, the New York area had some of the best musicians in the business, so it didn't make sense. Joe Malin was an old friend of mine from my New York days, so we decided to turn to him.
"Joe, along with his wife, Carmel, were superb violinists and concert masters—which meant they ran the string section. Joe also was one of the top contractors in New York, which meant he could hire the necessary musicians. He did this for some of the biggest names in show business at the time when they toured the region, including Frank Sinatra."
But who was in the band during Presley's four-concert series?
"Oh, man, you should have seen it. The band was amazing."
Who was in the chairs?
"Well, I'm standing there conducting, and who am I looking at? The best studio guys on the East Coast."
And?
"Guys like Al Cohn [pictured], Sol Schlinger, Sonny Russo, Wayne Andre and Al DeRisi.”
Wait a second, what?
"Yeah, I know. Al Cohn and Elvis. Amazing, right? No matter what you thought of rock at the time as a jazz musician—and even if those guys thought this was just another gig—they knew Elvis was larger than life and a giant performer. They also knew that the gig was bigger than entertainment or run-of-the mill show business. Even guys like Al were blown away."
So there you have it. A post that covers jazz and rock. Want to know who else played in the Joe Malin Orchestra at Madison Square Garden in June 1972? I found a list of the musicians on the web (go here). And here's part of the tour index. By the way, Sol Schlinger was on baritone sax, not percussion. [Photo above of Wayne Andre by B. Spilka]
One of the finest saxophone albums of the year is The Greg Abate Quintet, Featuring Phil Woods (Rhombus). In fact, this high-pressure bop blowing date is one of Phil's best recent outings, and he's put to the test. I love this album because it's smartly paced, rich with daredevil reed playing, and there's loads of artistic competition. [Photo above: Greg Abate]
Abate, 65, is a seasoned pro. He grew up in Rhode Island, attended Boston's Berklee College of Music in the late 1960s and early '70s and, like many terrific New England jazz musicians, stayed put. He plays soprano, alto and baritone saxes here as well as the flute, but he's most at home on the alto. He has played with trumpeter Red Rodney, saxophonist Jerome Richardson and other leading jazz artists, and he has an acoustic approach that clearly was honed in the '80s.
Though Abate started recording relatively late, in 1980, when you listen to him on this album you realize that someone should be recording this guy weekly. Put the album on and what hits you first is the beautiful strut of his swing, followed by his effortless ability to deliver clean, serpentine improvisational lines.
Which makes you wonder why Phil [pictured above] agreed to climb into the ring with him. But if you know Phil, you know that he loves to get in there and put himself to the test and bang around creatively with those who can really blow. As Phil notes in a blurb on the back cover, "I sleep a lot better knowing there are alto players like Greg! It was a joy to make music with him, and he writes good songs that are challenging." Phil has never flinched at a hard day's work.
And what a relief—you won't find any Songbook nonsense here. Eight of the 10 tracks are by Abate [pictured above], with one by Phil and another, a gorgeous ballad (Marny), by John Patrick, a pianist who Abate has gigged with in New England. How good is Abate as a songwriter? Dig Carmel by the Sea, which he wrote for one of his favorite vacation haunts in California, or Pear for the Bear, which was written for Tom Bates, Abate's jazz-loving friend.
Phil's song, Goodbye Mr. Pepper, was composed as a tribute to Art Pepper, but, say Abate's liner notes, the song has never been recorded until now. Oh, a word about the rhythm section—Jesse Green (piano), Evan Gregor (bass) and Bill Goodwin (drums). Pure taste and huge chops, and they support these two tigers ably. [Photo above: Greg Abate]
There isn't an inch of fat on this album, and every track is brimming with melodic fervor and fun-loving woodchopping. Jazz lives!
JazzWax tracks: You'll find The Greg Abate Quintet,
Featuring Phil Woods at Amazon here.
More on Greg Abate here.
JazzWax clip: Here's Greg Abate's Carmel by the Sea with Phil Woods taking the second solo...
