JazzWax

Hillsborough Disaster, 1989

These past weeks in the U.S. have been filled with holiday joy and unspeakable national sorrow. The slaughter of women, children and firefighters at the hands of the insane is impossible to fathom. Perhaps it's time to re-examine gun registration standards and the treatment of mental illness as well as the proliferation of video games and films that glorify gruesome crime, torture and cowboy justice.

The horror and savagery of these murderous acts in America overshadowed news related to a different sort of disaster that occurred in the U.K. in April 1989. Back then, 96 Liverpool soccer fans at Hillsborough Stadium in Sheffield, England were crushed to death and more than 766 were injured as surging fans outside were waved through turnstiles by police ill-trained in crowd control. Fans already in the standing area inside had no place to go.

Shortly after the semi-final match between Liverpool and Nottingham began, signs of trouble appeared on camera. To escape the crush, stronger male fans began to try and reach the upper-tier seats and were pulled up when possible. Those down front could do little more than move forward and backward with the undulating sea of bodies. Unknown to people watching TV at the time was that girls, boys and adults were being crushed to death—unable to move forward due to fencing or backward due to crowds continuing to flow in.  

Documentaries show vividly what happened next. Yet for decades, authorities and some in the media had falsely blamed the deaths and injuries on alcohol abuse and hooliganism. And for decades, those who were there said otherwise—pointing to poor crowd control by police and a stadium standing zone that treated fans like cattle, with little regard for safety.

This past September, an independent report finally was released in the U.K. 23 years later, blaming the deaths on a lack of proper police control. The report also concluded that local authorities had tried to pin the tragedy on Liverpool fans.

The report's release now clears the way for families of the deceased and injured to push for justice. While soccer stadiums no longer feature lethal standing areas similar to those that existed at Hillsborough, families still want those responsible to be brought to task. But such legal drives cost money, and many victims and their families don't have such assets.

Enter some of the U.K.'s biggest pop stars—including Paul McCartney, Robbie Williams and Beverley Knight. In the fall, they recorded The Hollies' hit He Ain't Heavy, He's My Brother—with each star singing one or two lines of the song. Sort of We Are the World—but with participants recording their lines separately. Proceeds from international sales are going to a fund to be used by the families for legal fees.

Here's a multipart documentary on the Hillsborough disaster...

  

Here's the Justice Collective's He Ain't Heavy He's My Brother video...

  

To download the track by the Justice Collective, go to iTunes or here.

Who's singing on the track? Here's a list, courtesy of Pete Byrne...

The road is long - ANDY LAWSON
With many a winding turn - ANDY LAWSON
That leads us to who knows where - GERRY MARSDEN
Who knows when - PAUL HEATON
But I'm strong - GLENN TILBROOK
Strong enough to carry him - GLENN TILBROOK
He ain't heavy, he's my brother - JOHN POWER/ROBBIE WILLIAMS

So on we go - JOHN POWER
His welfare is of my concern - MELANIE C
No burden is he to bear – ROBBIE WILLIAMS
We'll get there - ROBBIE/MELANIE C
For I know - REBECCA FERGUSON
He would not encumber me - HOLLY JOHNSON
He ain't heavy, he's my brother - HOLLY JOHNSON/REBECCA F
If I'm laden at all - BEVERLEY KNIGHT
I'm laden with sadness - BEVERLEY KNIGHT
That everyone's heart - PALOMA FAITH
Isn't filled with the gladness - PALOMA FAITH
Of love for one another – ELIZA DOOLITTLE

It's a long, long road - DAVE McCABE
From which there is no return - PETER HOOTON
While we're on the way to there – REN HARVIEU / JON McCLURE
Why not share - JON McCLURE / REN HARVIEU
And the load - DAVE McCABE
It doesn't weigh me down at all – PAUL MCCARTNEY 
Coz he ain't heavy – PAUL MCCARTNEY
(He ain’t heavy) – SHANE MACGOWAN
He's my brother - SHANE MACGOWAN/ BEVERLEY K
He's my brother - ALL (most)
He ain't heavy, he's my brother - ALL (most)

Weekend Wax Bits

Next Thursday (January 3, at 7 p.m.), come see me and Ira Gitler [photo above] at Barnes & Noble on 82nd St. and Broadway in New York. We'll be talking about my new book Why Jazz Happened, the rise of the LP and how it changed jazz. Ira plans on telling a story or two about Zoot Sims.

And on February 4, at noon, I'll be at 92Y/Tribeca in New York to talk about the history of jazz from World War II to Watergate—in just 45 minutes—complete with music and photos on a large screen. A Q&A will follow. Tickets: $21.

Why Jazz Happened update. Last week I was quoted and Why Jazz Happened was mentioned in Scott Timberg's essay for Salon: Did the American Songbook Kill Jazz?

Conrad Gozzo. Bret Primack, who is working on a documentary of trumpeter Pauly Cohen (for updates on the film, go here) sent along a link to a radio documentary of trumpet legend Conrad Gozzo [second from left in photo above]. The show was recorded in 1972. Go here.

Blue Note homage. There's clever—and then there's clever. Back in 2009, the Bella Vista Social Pub in Tuscany, Italy, came up with a neat idea to promote its concert season. Thanks to Timy Keller in France for alerting...

 

Oddball album cover of the week.

Here we have an album of dinner music for hungry cannibals—and our victim doesn't seem to mind one bit. Who thought up this stuff? Sort of the flip side to Baby It's Cold Outside.

Program: 'Strange Fruit,' 1945

A theatrical production of Lillian Smith's 1944 controversial novel Strange Fruit opened on Broadway at The Royale Theater on November 29, 1945. The story of an interracial couple was featured in Life magazine, and Eleanor Roosevelt gave it a positive review. Nevertheless, the drama closed soon after—on January 19, 1946. Billie Holiday had claimed that Smith named the novel after her song, but Smith maintained the title was about people who are products of America's racist culture at the time.

Here's the program, courtesy of Chris, whose friend Betty had an autographed copy...

 

How 1948 Changed Everything

In today's Wall Street Journal (go here), I write about the American Federation of Musicians' little-known second recording ban of 1948 and how the 12-month job action unintentionally and dramatically altered jazz and other music styles for the next 50 years.

The first AFM recording ban from 1942 to 1944 was an attempt by the union to halt technology's impact on its membership. While radio, the phonograph, records, talkies and the jukebox entertained the country on a national scale in the '20s and '30s—making a relatively small percentage of highly talented musicians wealthy—the technology also tossed thousands of average musicians out of work. Thanks to playback technology, the need for live musicians declined precipitously at radio stations, in movie theaters and local bars and restaurants.

The result of the first ban was the establishment of a union fund to hire unemployed musicians and an agreement by the recording industry to make fund payments based on sales. But Congress wasn't pleased that the union had managed to tax an industry to support workers who no longer could cut it in an evolving business.

But there was little Congress could do legally since the agreement was binding. So it passed a law prohibiting unions from managing their own funds. Congress's motive was to prevent corruption and misuse of funds. Once the new law passed, the recording industry told the union it had no intention of renewing their agreement at the end of '47. So the AFM prepared for a second ban, to begin when the clock struck midnight on New Year's Eve.

Badly burned by the last ban, Columbia Records decided to fast-track a new format. Clearly the union's main target was radio—since the spinning of records reaped a fortune in ad dollars but zero revenue for the union or its members. By contrast, the union had no problem with the home market, since a couple who purchased 78 rpm records by Louis Armstrong or the Boston Symphony wasn't earning ad revenue or charging others to hear it.

In June '48—midway through the second ban—Columbia unveiled a longer-playing vinyl record that turned at 33 1/3 rpm. The 12-inch LP lasted 22 1/2 minutes per side while the 10-inch version for pop and big bands lasted about 15 minutes per side. The improved convenience and duration of the LP didn't catch on immediately, largely because RCA didn't adopt it right away and consumers were hesitant to invest in what they perceived to be a temporary format.

When Roosevelt won a fourth term in November 1944, the recording industry decided to settle. In December, the union agreed to hand over management of its fund to an independent trustee, satisfying Congress's new law, and the recording industry's payments continued.

Not to be outdone by Columbia, RCA introduced its own format in 1949—the 45 rpm. The smaller record with the large hole at first went head-to-head with the LP. But when RCA's lucrative classical artists began defecting to Columbia in the early '50s, RCA also embraced the 33 1/3 speed, as did the rest of the industry. As for the 45 rpm, it quickly was used by radio and jukeboxes as a much better-sounding and more cost-effective alternative to the bulky and brittle 78 rpm.

The results? Once jazz labels began recording on 10-inch LPs in the early '50s and then the 12-inch LP in 1954, they needed more artists, more original material and longer solos to reduce the number of tracks per side and hold down royalty costs. During the mid-to-late '50s, the best jazz artists became superstars—Miles Davis, Sonny Rollins, John Coltrane, Dave Brubeck and others. [Photo above of Miles Davis by Francis Wolff]

As for the 45 rpm, R&B blossomed in the early '50s thanks to the format, particularly with the rise of portable phonographs, local radio stations and stronger signals—all of which inspired the teen market. By mid-decade, R&B would branch-out into rock and roll as a mainstream, crossover form.

If the union had simply shuttered its fund at the end of '47 and not initiated a second ban, Columbia might not have released the LP when it did and RCA wouldn't have developed the 45 to trump its rival. Without those two formats, long-form jazz might only have been heard in clubs while rock may never have developed at all.

At any rate, take a read in today's Wall Street Journal. I devote an entire chapter of my book Why Jazz Happened to the second AFM ban and the "speed wars." You can buy my book here.

Dave Brubeck: London, 1964

On August 25, 1964, the Dave Brubeck Quartet was in London appearing on Steve Race's Jazz 625 show on BBC television. Thanks to Jimi Mentis, here's the amazing broadcast, in its entirety...

5 Holiday Movies of Yore

Once upon a time in the 1940s, holiday films had a purpose—to make you feel good. Most had engaging love stories, they appealed to adults and they warmed your spirits. [Photo above: Rita Hayworth in a '40s holiday publicity still]

Here are five of my favorites...

Sun Valley Serenade (1941)...

 

Christmas in Connecticut (1945)...

 

The Man Who Came to Dinner  (1942)...

 

Holiday Affair (1949)...

 

I'll Be Seeing You (1944)...

 

Nat King Cole: Italy 1960

The other day I received a fabulous YouTube link from Dick LaPalm, Nat King Cole's record promoter and family friend. [Photo above: Nat King Cole with wife Maria]

Before you watch the clip, here are Dick's notes ...

"The song Non Dimenticar [Do Not Forget] was written in 1950 by Italy's Michele Gladieri and Paulo Redi. Originally titled T'ho Voluto Bene, the song first appeared in the 1951 classic Italian film Anna, starring Silvana Mangano. The new title and English lyric is the work of Shelly Dobbins. Nat Cole, with Nelson Riddle's arrangement and orchestra, recorded the song on August 18, 1958.

"Here, beautifully accompanied by just his trio, is a very rare video of Nathaniel performing this marvelous song on an Italian TV show in Rome in the spring of 1960, during a tour there. The musicians are John Collins on guitar, Charlie Harris on bass and Lee Young [Lester's brother] on drums..."

 

Weekend Wax Bits

If you're in New York on January 3, come join me at Barnes & Noble on 82d and Broadway at 7 p.m. I will be interviewed by legendary jazz author and writer Ira Gitler on my new book, Why Jazz Happened. Actually, it will be more of a conversation, since Ira—author of the Biographical Encyclopedia of Jazz and the indispensable Swing to Bop—has written hundreds of album liner notes since 1951 and will have a few stories up his sleeve. I will be signing books, and it would be great to see you there.

And if you're in New York on February 4, at noon, I will be at 92YTribeca. I plan to cover the history of jazz from 1942 to 1972 in just 45 minutes. Best of all, I will be treating this 30-year saga as a film noir—complete with audio clips and images on a huge screen. There also will be a Q&A at the end, and I will be signing books. Tickets are $21 each. To buy tickets, go here.

Why Jazz Happened news...

Patrick Jarenwattananon of NPR's award-winning A Blog Supreme named Why Jazz Happened as his favorite jazz book of 2012. Super flattered! Go here.

New England Public Radio host and blogger Tom Reney recommended Why Jazz Happened in his list of seven gift books for the holidays. Go here to see the list. For more on Tom, go here.

Why Jazz Happened also made Publisher's Weekly's famed "Our Favorite Books We Read in 2012" list. Also on the list, Ted Gioia's The Jazz Standards.

JazzTimes magazine is offering Why Jazz Happened as part of a sweepstakes, ending on January 11. So if you haven't purchased a copy yet, here's your shot at a free one. But hurry. Go here.

Yet more mentions of Why Jazz Happened in literary posts by Marshal Zeringue in New Orleans. Marshal put me to the Ford Maddox Ford "Page 99 Test"—asking me to turn to said page in my book and relate what's there. A fascinating challenge. Go here and here.

Superb radio interview by Mark Hayes of Passing Notes on WDNA in Miami. The podcast is up now.

Upcoming radio interviews...

 January 3 (11:15 a.m., EST)—With host John Greenspan of KSFR-FM in Santa Fe, N.M.

January 11 (10 p.m., EST)—With host David Brent Johnson of Night Lights on WFIU-FM in Bloomington, Ind.

January 13 (11 a.m., EST)—With host Terence Tyson of Making Waves on WHFR.FM in Dearborn, Mich.

January 15 (7 p.m., EST)—With host Ron Wynn of Freestyle on WFSK-FM in Nashville, Tenn.

Jazz in Ireland. What's happening in Dublin? JazzWax reader Billy O'Hanluain sent along the following video clip of singer Jaime Nanci and the Blues Boys. Dig Nanci's vocal interpretation of Mood Indigo and the Paul Desmond-esque alto sax of Ciaran Wilde (go here). For more about the band, go here.

 

More free Art Pepper. Laurie Pepper, the alto saxophonist's entrepreneurial widow, sent along another free download for all to enjoy. It's a track recorded at the Village Vanguard in 1977—a few weeks before Pepper's gig was recorded by Contemporary Records and with a different group: Onaje Allen Gumbs, Gene Perla, and Joe LaBarbera. To download, go here.


Marlene VerPlanck. If you're in New York over the coming days, singer Marlene VerPlanck [pictured above] will be at the Blue Note brunch on Sunday at 12:30 p.m. and 2:30 ($29.50 buys brunch, a drink and the show). She'll be backed by the Tedd Firth Trio. For more information, go here. And on Friday, December 28, Marlene will be at The Kitano, at 66 Park Ave. (38th St.). For more information, go here.

A special JazzWax thanks to those who provided me with extraordinary behind- the-scenes assistance throughout 2012: Mary Francis and Alex Dahne, Jon Foley, Eric Gibson, Ira Gitler, Nat Hentoff, Lisa Hoke and David Bemis, Bill Kirchner, David Langner, Brenda Marsh and Lou Pizzitola, Hank O'Neal, Bret Primack, Fred Seibert, Todd Selbert, Herb Snitzer, Creed Taylor and Terry Teachout.

CD discoveries of the week. At first, trumpeter Allen Vizzutti's new album Ritzville (Village Place) sounds like a funk-fusion work. But as the CD progressed and became more sophisticated, I grew curious, reaching for the cover. No wonder. Stanley Clarke and Chick Corea are on two tracks. Vizzutti—formerly of Woody Herman's band and four years with Chick—composed and arranged all of the tracks. On this album, his playing is powerful and peppery, backed by a large string section. Sample Silhouette and Ticklish. Thinking big never sounded so good.

Before Paul Winter changed the name of his band to the Paul Winter Consort and began playing World and spiritual music, the saxophonist was a jazz player who in 1961 was signed by Columbia Records. On The Paul Winter Sextet: Count Me In, 1962-63 (Living Music), a two-CD set, the group is recorded in the studio and at the Kennedy White House on Nov. 19, 1962. The music is rich and edgy (Winter had a Cannonball Adderley feel), with hard bop and bossa influences. On the bossa side, sample Casa Camara and Voce E Eu. On the jazz side, sample A Bun Dance and Mystery Blues. Intellectual jazz from the '60s at its very best.

It's impossible not to dig Bob Wolfman's Transition. Guitarist-singer Wolfman has a voice like Brian Wilson's—up high and passionate. His guitar playing is sharp and tasteful. Produced by fusionista Larry Coryell, who puts a mighty electric twang on the recording, the album is a grab-bag of musical pieces. New Yorker Wolfman has played with Coryell, Chick Corea, Joe Beck, James Cammack and others. Sample Trees, Seeds and Bailey's Bounce. A fusion album of musical truffles.

Oddball album cover of the week.

Here's Bill Evans in another in a long line of Fontana covers from The Netherlands, featuring jazz musicians leering at Dutch models. Clearly pondering his composition The Two Lonely People.

Bill Evans and Jimmy Knepper

Most fans of pianist Bill Evans know him as one of jazz's great trio leaders from 1959 until his death in 1980. You also may know that in the years preceding 1959, Evans was a prolific sideman—popping up on a wide range of recordings led by superb artists such as Tony Scott, Miles Davis and Hal McKusick.

One of the finest dates from his pre-Davis period was trombonist Jimmy Knepper's A Swinging Introduction from September 1957. This Bethlehem date featured Knepper (tb), Gene Quill (as), Evans (p), Teddy Kotick (b) and Dannie Richmond (d). The recording session came a month after both artists appeared on Charles Mingus's East Coasting and two months before they were on an extensive series of Tony Scott dates.

Evans first recorded with Knepper on the inventive Third Stream recording Brandeis Jazz Festival: Modern Jazz Concert in January 1957. They also both appeared on The Incredible Kai Winding Trombones, one of the first six albums Creed Taylor produced for his maiden Impulse label in 1960.

Knepper [pictured above] was a brilliant ballad player, using a pillowy, crying technique on his horn to extract the passion of slower songs. He also was a monster uptempo workhorse but retained the same round sound. Alto saxophonist Quill was a shrill bebopper, a high-octane instrumental gunslinger who often was paired with Phil Woods and was featured on many East Coast studio sessions that called for a special sound at the high end of the reed section. Knepper and Quill together here are pure magic—the rubbery Knepper scraping against the sandpapery Quill.

But the bonus on this album is the boutique Evans solos. By 1957, Evans was perfecting the patiently-paced elegant sound he would employ during his stay in the Miles Davis Sextet in 1958. On virtually every track on the Knepper-led album, Evans is given micro solos after the horns, displaying solid ideas that lift off despite the short amount of running room.

This is especially true on Ogling Ogre, the mid-tempo How High the Moon, Idol of the Flies and Avid Admirer.

By the spring of '58, Evans had passed into the extraordinary maze known as the Miles Davis Sextet. When he emerged in November, he would be a very different player and person—professionally more grounded but personally more reckless and with a nagging drug habit.

But in September 1957, Evans still had his jazz virginity, eagerly working behind two forces—Knepper and Quill. Here, Evans is in transit but about an exit away from arriving. 

JazzWax tracks: Jimmy Knepper's A Swinging Introduction is going for about $50 today as a CD import. But you'll find all of the tracks on Bill Evans: The Sideman Years (Fresh Sound) as a download here and at iTunes. Track numbers 11-16 make up the original album, bringing your grand total to under $6. Merry Christmas!

JazzWax clip: Here's the loping How High the Moon from A Swinging Introduction...

 

How High The Moon

 

Mary Wells: 'Something New'

For nearly four years—from 1960 to mid-1964—Mary Wells was Motown's first female solo star. Her singing voice was strong and conversational—mysteriously effortless in its sing-talk delivery. Unlike most African-American R&B singers of the period, Wells wasn't a church belter or a teen in heat. Rather, she had a cooler, understated sound that combined doo-wop and girl-group sensibilities prevalent in the late '50s and early '60s.

As you can hear on Mary Wells: Something New, 1961-1964 (Hip-O Select)—a new two-CD set of rarities—Wells's crossover appeal is splendidly documented. Stripped of regional inflection and intonation, Wells's calm and confident voice was shaped by Motown producer Smokey Robinson. Her coaxing, crossover delivery won-over black and white audiences—without ever losing any of its earnestness or earthiness.

Unfortunately, Wells today has been largely forgotten. My Guy was a big 1964 hit, of course, but Martha Reeves, Diana Ross, the Marvelettes and Tammi Terrell all wound up benefiting from Wells's female road-paving. Each went on to become household names, but not Wells. The turning point for her came in '64, when she impulsively and mistakenly left Motown in a huff.

As always in such stories, there was a greedy husband. This one sued Motown to have Wells released from her contract, since she was under age 21 when the document was signed. The goal was to get her signed to another label.

What Wells didn't understand at the time was that the record industry was changing, and success depended on more than a dangling signing bonus. One had to consider record distribution, material, arrangements, radio air-play, concerts, television appearances, and competition from an ever-growing pool of singers.

Without a label armed with such an arsenal, Wells soon found herself making records for labels that fewer people bought. As a result, she had condemned herself to a lifetime of touring and singing the same songs that she first recorded for the label she left. Wells died in 1992.

Track after track on Something New finds Wells seductively selling all types of songs, with lyrics about first loves, crushed hearts and teaching cheating boyfriends a lesson. As you listen to Wells now, the appeal of her style remains obvious yet difficult to describe. Perhaps it was her ability to hit high notes with bell-like clarity while delivering a low husky tone at the same time. Or how she skillfully handled tricky melody lines. Or how she added a little extra power at the ends of lyric lines. Or all of it.

This set is divided into three parts. The first CD features 27 tracks—some unreleased and others never reissued digitally. All of these are divine and leave you wondering why they weren't hits in the first place.

The second CD is split between Wells's duets with Marvin Gaye and an aborted jazz-pop album that tried to position her as a Dinah Washington disciple. These fall short, but delightfully so. Wells wasn't duet material—even with Gaye. She needed to be featured alone for the qualities of her voice to be heard.

As for the jazz session, pop-R&B tracks like Again, Can't Get Out of This Mood (with the Four Tops) and Teach  Me Tonight were combined with I Remember You (again with the Four Tops), A Lovely Way to Spend an Evening and The Second Time Around. What's fascinating is how such a convincing R&B singer could miss the mark on pop-jazz material, proving that these two types of singers were very different. Remember, most jazz vocalists from this era made for miserable R&B singers.

Today, Mary Wells is Motown's forgotten first lady of song. In her prime, Wells had the label's warmest and most lovable female voice. After listening to this set about a dozen times, I think that still may be the case.

JazzWax tracks: You'll find Mary Wells: Something New 1961-64  (Hip-O Select) here.

Here's (You Can) Depend on Me, from 1961, which covered the Miracles' song...

(You Can) Depend on Me

JazzWax pages: About a month ago, Mary Wells: The Tumultuous Life of Motown's First Superstar (Chicago Review Press) by Peter Benjaminson was published. I have not read the biography yet, but this CD set prompted me to order it.

JazzWax clip: My Guy isn't part of this rarity set, but Mary Wells performing her 1964 hit will give you a sense of her appeal and how great she was...