JazzWax

Hawk Meets the Big Sax Section

For much of Coleman Hawkins' post-1940 career, the tenor saxophonist fronted quartets, quintets and other small groups. When he did play with full-size orchestras, Hawk was typically the featured soloist, not a sit-down, chart-reading member of the reed section. So unfortunately you don't often get to hear how the flavor of a superb reed section might change with Hawk's mighty tenor as part of the mix.

Hawk also didn't play much with Count Basie's band. Which makes perfect sense, since Hawk and Lester Young, Basie's star tenor saxophonist, were intense rivals. Hawk recorded with Basie [pictured] on only a few occasions— in January 1941 as poll-winning members of the Metronome All Stars; with Basie's big band in April 1941 (Young was fronting his own band and working with Billie Holiday at the time); and in December 1957 for CBS' The Sound of Jazz, the noir TV jam session.

Long curious to know how Hawk's confident, cutting tone would sound within Basie's bluesy sax section, Savoy Records' producer Ozzie Cadena [pictured] proposed a recording summit in early 1958. Hawk agreed, and Basie gave his blessing. So on April 24, right after Basie's band returned from a Canadian tour and just before Hawk left for Europe with Jazz at the Philharmonic, nine musicians converged on Rudy Van Gelder's recording studio in New Jersey. Cadena oversaw the session for World Wide Records.

For the date, Marshall Royal and Frank Wess were on alto saxes; Frank Foster and Hawk were on tenors; and Charlie Fowlkes was on baritone sax. The only reed player missing was Billy Mitchell, who had just joined Basie months earlier on tenor and was the sax player dropped to make room for Hawk. The rhythm section featured guitarist Freddie Green and bassist Eddie Jones, both Basie-ites, and Bobby Donaldson on drums and Nat Pierce on piano. [pictured above]

To ensure that the session went off without a scoring hitch, Cadena turned to rock-solid Billy Ver Planck [pictured, right] for the swinging arrangements. Ver Planck, a trombonist, had written for the Jimmy Dorsey and Claude Thornhill bands, and in 1958 was recording for Savoy.

The result was Coleman Hawkins Meets the Saxophone Section, which was first released on World Wide to show off the label's newfound stereo capability. Recorded only in stereo (rather than mono and stereo), many jazz listeners passed on the LP, since the more expensive stereo format was relatively new technology and most people had only mono equipment. Ultimately, the recording also was released on Savoy as Coleman Hawkins Meets the Big Sax Section.

The five tracks recorded that day included three blues and two show tunes—I've Grown Accustomed to Her Face and There Is Nothing Like a Dame. The first track on the album, Ooga Dooga, is particularly fascinating given that Hawk does not solo. Instead, you get to hear how the section sounds with Hawk as one of two tenors reading down Ver Planck's charts. The standards also are stunning swingers, with Hawk tearing in and out of Frederick Lowe's loping Face and Richard Rodgers' charging Dame.

This CD is a must own. It's a big 12-cylinder date from start to end, and you can hear Basie's reeds stepping up their game as Hawk bears down hard to impress the smoothest sax section in the business. You almost get the feeling on several tracks that Hawk was sending a message to the tenor star who wasn't in the studio that day—Eddie "Lockjaw" Davis [pictured].

Davis had left the Basie band just months earlier to work with organist Shirley Scott, but his dominant flavor still lingered. Just listen to Hawk's blowing on the alternate take of Thanks for the Misery. He's certainly taking Lockjaw to the woodshed. Never one to miss an opportunity, Hawk figured he might as well set Jaws straight.

For my money, Coleman Hawkins Meets the Saxophone Section may be one of the best and most robust reed-themed albums ever recorded. Every track lives up to the album's title, and you get everything you expect, from the sauciest blues to street-smart standards. There isn't a bad note on the album. It's just a shame that another five tracks weren't captured that day, 50 years ago last month.

JazzWax tracks: Unfortunately, Coleman Hawkins Meets the Big Sax Section (Savoy) isn't available as a download at iTunes or Amazon. However, you can buy the disc used here. Or you'll find the tracks on this Hawkins compilation here.

Hawk's April 1941 recordings with the Basie band, Feedin' the Bean and 9:20 Special, can be downloaded from The Essential Count Basie Volume 3 at Amazon here.

The January 1941 Metronome All Stars recording of Bugle Call Rag and One O'Clock Jump featuring Coleman Hawkins and Count Basie are on a splendid CD called Summit Meetings: Metronome All Stars and Esquire All Stars (1939-1950) here.

To hear Hawkins and Basie playing Dickie's Dream and I Left My Baby in 1957, you can buy The Sound of Jazz CD here. To see Basie, Hawk and this monster all-star band in action during a rehearsal, go here. This footage remains among the most exhilarating in jazz history. Dig Billie Holiday casually chatting with the Count in the middle of the session, as if he were just doing the dishes rather than driving the most swinging band ever assembled. You can buy the DVD of the rehearsal and CBS program here.

An e-Chat With Roberto Magris

Few European musicians have as much adoration and reverence for the American jazz tradition as the Italian pianist Roberto Magris. Enormously curious about American culture and always eager to reinterpret neglected standards, Roberto loves performing with American jazz legends, and he brings a special sensitivity to every song he plays. Roberto's passion for jazz legends and jazz history continues to grow. His forthcoming album, Kansas City Outbound, features legendary bassist Art Davis, who died in July 2007 shortly after the album was recorded.

My favorite Roberto Magris album up to now has been Il Bello Del Jazz, which was recorded in 2003 but wasn't released until 2006. What makes this CD so special is the teaming of Roberto and the legendary alto saxophonist Herb Geller. Recorded in Roberto's home town of Trieste, Italy, everything about this album is fabulous and exciting. In addition to a handful of originals by Roberto and Geller, the album includes terrific standards including Benny Carter's Key Largo and Stephen Sondheim's Pretty Women. These two musicians together sound magical.

Roberto and I struck up a friendship several months ago via email after Roberto sent along his unreleased solo piano recording. Yesterday I e-interviewed Roberto, who's back in Trieste [pictured] after performing at a festival in Bucharest, Romania. He ruminated on why jazz is interpreted differently in various parts of Italy and reflected on one-time bandmates Herb Geller, Kai Winding, Eddie "Lockjaw" Davis, Sal Nistico and Art Davis. He also provided details about his soon-to-be released CD, an impressionistic tribute to Jay McShann and Kansas City jazz:

JazzWax: Is there a distinctly Italian approach to jazz?
Roberto Magris: Yes, I think so. But I am more of a Middle-European jazz musician than a purely Italian one. My musical experience took place not only in Italy but also in Austria, Hungary, Slovenia, Czechia and Germany. Before the Iron Curtain came down, there was a unique jazz stream from those countries that I experimented with, and I was one of the few Western musicians to play concerts there and collaborate with local jazz musicians on a regular basis. So I tend to identify with Central and Eastern European musicians, especially saxophonist Tony Lakatos, one of my favorites.

JW: What exactly sets you apart from mainstream Italian jazz musicians? 
RM: I think I have a special sense of dancing melodies, a more rhythmic approach and the tendency to be more of a risk-taker in solos within the harmonic frame. Actually, the jazz scene in much of Italy tends to be orientated toward experimental jazz, with some exceptions, of course, like trumpeter Enrico Rava and pianist Enrico Pierannunzi. So, I don't feel completely connected to the Italian jazz scene. I'm from Trieste, on the Adriatic Sea, and feel I have greater connection to traditional American jazz played in Central and Eastern Europe.

JW: Alto saxophonist Herb Geller played on your 2006 release, Il Bello Del Jazz. He rarely plays in the U.S. now. Why do you think that is?
RM: My impression is that Herb doesn't like to travel too far from Hamburg, Germany, where he lives. He has played in California from time to time over the last few years. But for the most part, he feels very comfortable in his new hometown, where he's highly respected, loved and appreciated. I think Herb would be open to returning to the U.S. to play if a good festival invited him. At this point, he's a grandmaster who simply likes to communicate with his sharp but sweet sound.

JW: Because Herb has been gone from the U.S. scene for some time, he's a bit of mystery to many fans here. What's he like?
RM: He is a gentleman, a very nice guy, full of anecdotes and stories. He still remembers all of his small group and big-band gigs. He remains saddened by the sudden death of his wife, Lorraine [pictured], in 1958, and the passing of close friends like Scott LaFaro and Clifford Jordan. I was especially surprised to see how proficient he was on the computer.

JW: How so?
RM: Herb collects standards and transcribes them into his computer. He has a huge, impressive collection. It's like a massive computerized fake book. He's particularly keen on compositions by Billy Strayhorn and Benny Carter. Herb is always open to new things, provided they are within the jazz tradition. He especially likes melody and rhythm, and doesn't care much for modal jazz. He's really a treasure, and I cannot understand how he can be so renowned yet underrated at the same time. [pictured: Roberto and Herb Geller]

JW: Are there other legends you'd like to play with?
RM: Oh sure. Yusef Lateef, James Moody, Lee Konitz, Charlie Mariano and Jimmy Heath, for starters.

JW: In the early 1980s, you played with Kai Winding, Eddie "Lockjaw" Davis and Sal Nistico—who were nearing the end of their careers. What were they like?
RM: Kai Winding was a real gentleman but he was already ill. Despite being sick, his playing was beautiful and his phrasing was elegant. I believe I played behind him during his last concert. He died just a short period after that in 1983. "Lockjaw" [pictured] was always dressed out of this world. I still remember his funny personal taste for elegant clothes. Nistico had very hard problems with drug addiction, even though his playing was very good. He was on a continuous trip. I remember he was interested only in getting drugs between the concert sets.

JW: When is your new CD coming out?
RM: Kansas City Outbound (Soul Note) will be released in a few months. I recorded the album in two sessions early last year in Kansas City with bassist Art Davis [pictured]. On drums is Jimmy "Junebug" Jackson, who for more than 20 years toured with organist Jimmy Smith. "Junebug" also has performed with McCoy Tyner, George Benson, Christian McBride and Carlos Santana. I also used local Kansas City drummer Zack Albetta for one of the sessions. My agent, Paul Collins, wanted to give him a chance to play and record with Art.

JW: How did the album's concept come about?
RM: In early 2007, we played a concert at the Blue Room near the American Jazz Museum in Kansas City. It was a special tribute to pianist Jay McShann, who had passed away in December 2006. My agent is a close friend of the McShanns. So we were able to meet Jay's family, and I got to play McShann's piano in his home, which was so exciting. I also received a few of his original scores as a gift from the McShann family. Art Davis was positive, happy and satisfied with our sound. Sadly, it turned out to be his final recording session.

JW: Why did you choose the Kansas City theme?
RM: I was so impressed with the American Jazz Museum in Kansas City and seeing the jazz district there [pictured] that I didn't want to miss an opportunity to pay tribute to the city and the music that was born there.

JW: What songs are on the CD?
RM: There are two totally improvised pieces, Kansas City Outbound, which has a Coltrane feel, and Kansas City Inbound, which I later found out has touches of pianist Denny Zeitlin. We also recorded I Fall in Love Too Easily; two originals of mine called Rainbow Eyes and Iraqi Blues; Monk's Bemsha Swing; Andrew Hill's Reverend Du Bop; and two more standards: Darn That Dream and Alone Together. I also recorded two solo piano interludes: €”Billy Strayhorn's A Flower Is a Lovesome Thing and Benny Carter's Lonely Woman.

JW: Speaking of solo piano, you recently recorded a solo album. It hasn't been released yet. How come?
RM: I just need to find a label that wants to release it. Solo piano albums are a harder sell. For me, the solo works are part of my personality and experience.

JW: Do you plan a tour of the U.S. soon?
RM: I plan to play in Los Angeles and San Francisco this year with saxophonists Paul Carr and Tony Lakatos [pictured, left, with Roberto], Marcus Shelby on bass and Idris Muhammad on drums. Then I hope to come to New York to play next year.

JazzWax tracks: Roberto Magris' Il Bello Del Jazz is available here on CD. For more information on the Soul Note label, go here. For more information about Roberto, go here. Il Bello Del Jazz is a very pretty album, with Magris displaying an enormous range as soloist and while accompanying Geller, who gives the date a smart, edgy West Coast feel.

Interview: Creed Taylor (Part 4)

Two months after taking his first job as a record producer for Bethlehem Records in 1955, Creed Taylor was on a roll. He inaugurated the 10-inch LP at the label with vocalist Chris Connor; befriended Quincy Jones; signed Oscar Pettiford, Herbie Mann, Ruby Braff and many others to the label; and was fast on his way to transforming the way the jazz LP was produced, packaged and promoted. [pictured: Creed Taylor with Oliver Nelson]

Ultimately, what set Creed apart was naivete and determination. Unfamiliar with conventional recording-industry practices, Creed  created a winning recording formula from scratch, going after up-and-coming artists and giving musicians space to realize their musical visions. In sum, Creed brought a grace and polish to jazz recordings that didn't exist yet in the early LP era. Between 1954 and 1956, he produced dozens of records that conveyed an urban, love-struck sophistication on the cover while the recordings themselves captured a new energy and intellect emerging among cutting-edge artists. The results were LPs that connected with hard-core jazz listeners and romantic youth alike. [pictured: Creed Taylor with Freddie Hubbard]

In the final part of my conversation with Creed on his Bethlehem years, he reflects on Carmen McRae, Charlie Shavers and Jack Teagarden, and muses on the one recording session he wishes he had captured:

JazzWax: You were one of the first to record Carmen McRae in 1954, in a small group setting. What was she like?
Creed Taylor: Carmen’s sound and her attention to the meaning of a song's lyrics were incredible. Look, I don’t want to put down a great artist like Ella [Fitzgerald]. But Ella and I would not be on the same track. For me, Chris Connor, Carmen McRae, Nina Simone and even Anita O’Day had enormous respect for the meaning of a song’s lyrics. They’d use little nuances and phrasings, plus all of the stylistic stuff you’d expect from a singer. But if Ella sings Cottage for Sale, she’s not going to sound like Chris Connor. Ella is fantastic, but when she sings I always wonder what happened to the meaning of the song.

JW: So the song’s “story” is lost with Ella, or perhaps her focus was on perfection rather than emotion?
CT: I think so. For me, at least.

JW: You recorded Charlie Shavers at Bethlehem. What was he like?
CT: What a funny guy. We did an album called Horn O’ Plenty in October 1954. On that album we recorded a medley of songs illustrating the jazz trumpet's history. He played all the styles, from New Orleans through Dizzy’s Salt Peanuts. It was narrated by Al “Jazzbo” Collins, a hipster disc jockey at the time. Charlie blew up a storm on that date.

JW: What made Charlie so special?
CT: His phrasing was different. He had an enormous range. And his vibrato was different. He could play strong without losing his great sense of humor. I recall a vocal he did that was so spur of the moment. The written lyric went something like, “Into the tent he crept” but Charlie added, parenthetically, “naked as a jay bird.” And then he roared with laughter. These guys all could think on the go and add enormous humor to the art they were creating.

JW: You recorded Jack Teagarden several times for Bethlehem.
CT: What an artist. Jack made it look so easy. Most people are unaware that he used unusual slide positions on the trombone because his arms were short. His vocals were sensational. Yet he was so quiet when he wasn’t playing. He really didn’t talk much.

JW: Is there a recording session at Bethlehem that you wish you could go back and put together?
CT: Sure. Jack Teagarden and Chris Connor. That would have been some pair. Somehow their paths never crossed.

JW: Which artists who recorded for you at Bethlehem had exceptional sounds on their horns?
CT: Urbie Green and Hal McKusick [Hal pictured, center]. Their sounds were sensational and unmistakable. You knew Urbie’s trombone from the first notes. And Hal’s sound was pure. We did that East Coast Jazz, Vol. 8 recording together, with Barry Galbraith, Milt Hinton and Osie Johnson. Hal’s sound was not unlike Paul Desmond’s. Both were pretty.

JW: You didn’t do the West Coast producing for Bethlehem. Why not?
CT: Back then it wasn’t economical. Red Clyde produced sessions for Bethlehem on the West Coast. As far as I was concerned, nothing was happening on the West Coast anyway.

JW: Why did you leave Bethlehem in 1956?
CT: Just as I read Billboard today, I read the magazine then. Back in 1956, I saw an article about ABC Paramount starting a record company. I liked the idea of ABC. I thought the exposure would be bigger for me there. So I wrote Sam Clark, ABC Paramount’s president, and set up an appointment. I really liked Harry Levine, his vice president. What Harry had done at the Paramount Theater [pictured] booking Frank Sinatra and all the big bands was mind-boggling. Harry loved show business.

JW: How did your interview go?
CT: Great. Sam hired me on the spot. I liked the fact that ABC recorded many different genres of music. When I worked there, I used to go across the street to a record store and thumb through the bins to see what genres were available and which ones weren’t. So I wound up doing an album of college drinking songs, an album of drinking songs under the table, songs of World War I, Flamenco music, and so on.

JW: You put jazz on hold?
CT: Not exactly. I had to sneak it in. I didn’t want to go full stream with guys who didn’t know what jazz was about. Except for Harry Levine, of course. I had to work my way in with jazz gradually. I had to show them first that I could produce profitable albums of all music styles. Only then could I start concentrating more on jazz.

Interview: Creed Taylor (Part 3)

With the success of Chris Connor's 10-Inch LPs for Bethlehem Records in 1954, producer Creed Taylor had the validation and confidence he needed to leverage his vision. Weary of open-ended jam sessions that dominated the early years of the 10-inch LP, Creed sought to revolutionize the format by packaging LPs as tight artistic concepts rather than random collections of extended singles. [pictured: Creed Taylor and organist Jimmy Smith]

In the last four months of 1954 alone, Creed produced Bethlehem LPs by Hank D'Amico, Carmen McRae, Charlie Shavers, Ruby Braff, Jack Teagarden, Joe Puma, Oscar Pettiford [pictured], Herbie Mann and others. In early 1955, Creed shifted into overdrive, averaging six recording sessions a month. These dates were led by Urbie Green, Don Elliott, Milt Hinton, Kai Winding, J.J. Johnson, Hal McKusick and many others. Increasingly, Creed selected the sidemen for dates and insisted on a high percentage of original material by session leaders.

In Part 3 of my conversation with Creed about his Bethlehem years, he talks about the mood created by the label's cover art, his friendship with Quincy Jones, the importance of Charlie's Tavern, how he convinced Oscar Pettiford to trim his solos, and how his one tangle with Stan Getz was resolved:

JazzWax: You enjoyed the business side of the business as much as recording the music, didn't you?
Creed Taylor: Very much so. I was fascinated by the record business, from how to put a record's cover and liner notes together to getting the records into stores and selling them.

JW: Speaking of covers, many of Bethlehem's had this dark, nocturnal look and feel. Was that deliberate?
CT: The look was developed by our art director, Burt Goldblatt. I'd tell him the subject matter and he’d create the design. My innovation was adding sheet lamination to the covers, giving them a sleek, polished look. It wasn’t until later, in the late 1960s, when the printing technology became more sophisticated that I became more heavily involved in developing a vision for covers.

JW: Like Chris Connor, Herbie Mann was another artist whose talents you recognized early and produced perfectly in the mid-1950s.
CT: When I moved from the Upper West Side to Waverly Place in Greenwich Village in late 1954, I lived in a brownstone with a garden out back. Each time I’d go outside, I’d hear a flute player practicing incessantly. He’d play scales and then launch into amazing jazz lines. I decided I had to find out who the devil was playing. So I narrowed the location and knocked on the guy’s door. The guy playing was Herbie. It turned out he had already done a bit of recording with Mat Mathews for Coral. We recorded a series of records with Herbie. There was the Chicken Little session in December 1954; Flamingo, a quartet album; a quintet album with flutist Sam Most; Songs of a Woman in Love, Herbie Mann Plays, and a bunch of others with different groups of musicians, including Kai Winding and J.J. Johnson.

JW: Was it hard to come up with just the right personnel mix for the sessions?
CT: Actually it was relatively easy. Charlie’s Tavern played a big role. The bar was right across from Bethlehem’s offices. We were on the 13th floor of 1350 Broadway. Charlie’s Tavern was at 51st St. and 7th Ave. The bar had a back entrance that led to an alley. Across the alley was Birdland. When musicians would go on a break at Birdland, they would cross the alley and go into Charlie’s Tavern for a drink. I could go down almost any time of day from my office, put together a band and go out to Rudy Van Gelder’s studio in New Jersey the next day and record.

JW: Were you ever concerned that artists might not share your vision?
CT: I never thought about it. The artists were all interesting, intelligent guys. One of my best friends in the early 1950s was Quincy Jones, who knew everyone. Quincy had just come in from Chicago, and I had just come up from Virginia. Soon after I started I signed Oscar Pettiford to Bethlehem. Quincy, Oscar and I planned the first Oscar date [Bass by Pettiford] at Charlie's Tavern.

JW: But how did you get artists to go along with your vision?
CT: I talked it over with them very quietly, usually one on one.

JW: But if you’re Oscar Pettiford, you want to solo. Who is Creed Taylor to tell him what to do?
CT: [laughing] With Oscar, I might say, “Hey, Oscar, if you don’t play a shorter solo next time, I’m not going to have you down to my pad for dinner.” I used to make him pasta dinners at my place on Waverly Place. Oscar might put up a fuss initially but eventually he'd understand where I was coming from. I think it’s a matter of conviction. In my experience, if you believe strongly in what you’re saying, and if what you’re saying clearly has the artist's creative interests at heart, things seem to go pretty smoothly.

JW: So showing passion and communicating a vision were pretty key, combined with a good sense of humor.
CT: I think so. All those guys back then had the greatest sense of humor. They’d come up with outlandish stories. [photo of Dizzy Gillespie by Herb Ritts]

JW: Producing also depended on pairing the right musicians, yes?
CT: If I knew that a particular bass player liked playing with a particular drummer but that the bass player sounded better with another drummer, I’d simply say, “I have an idea and I’d really like to see what you sound like with this guy or that guy.” That was enough to make my point.

JW: Do you think your psychology training at Duke University came in handy?
CT: Maybe. Psychologists deal with the subconscious. If my training sank in and emerged when I needed it, so be it. It wasn’t a conscious effort on my part.

JW: But you had to be a pretty quick study of human nature.
CT: I suppose so. Look, at the end of the day, it’s what a great musician sounds like. And I could identify with the sound of a particular artist. For example, I could easily identify with Stan Getz, who recorded for me when I was at Verve in the early 1960s.

JW: How did you handle Stan, who was notoriously difficult?
CT: Stan could be very arrogant and didn’t hesitate to put people down. It’s hard to describe because we had an ongoing relationship. It popped through with us only once. I remember we were recording Focus when I was at Verve. We were recording at Webster Hall in July 1961. At one point, Stan got nasty. I told him that if he didn’t cool it, I would leave. When he did it again, I said I was leaving. So I shut down the session and left. Later he apologized and came back to finish the date.

JW: Stan was a pretty tough guy.
CT: I remember standing in front of Charlie’s Tavern with Phil Woods in the mid-1950s. Phil was talking about Stan. He said Stan was so mean that if he walked out into the street right in front of us and a steamroller flattened him out, he’d just get up and walk away. But if Stan knew you knew what he was up to, and I did, you didn’t have much of a problem with him. If not, he’d mess with you. Stan just had this need to be aggressive.

JW: Sometimes these creative geniuses could be like kids.
CT: Well, sure.

Tomorrow, Creed talks about his impressions of vocalist Carmen McRae, trumpeter Charlie Shavers, trombonists Jack Teagarden and Urbie Green, and saxophonist Hal McKusick. Creed also explains why he left Bethlehem in 1956 for ABC Paramount Records.

JazzWax tracks: Creed Taylor's years producing records for Bethlehem Records between 1954 and 1956 resulted in dozens of stunning recordings. Here's a sampling of my favorites recorded just between the fall of 1954 and the spring of 1955. Some are out of print while others appear on newly released collections.

Oscar Pettiford—Nonet and Octet: 1954-1955. This CD captures several of Pettiford's recordings for Bethlehem. Go here.

Herbie Mann—Herbie Mann Plays (1955). This remastered gem is still available for only $2.99 used from independent sellers. Go here.

Hal McKusick—The Complete Barry Galbraith, Milt Hinton & Osie Johnson Recordings (1955). This two-CD set includes Hal's Bethlehem release East Coast Jazz/Vol. 8. [pictured] Go here.

Ruby Braff—The Best of Ruby Braff (1954-55). This CD combines two different Bethlehem sessions and features trumpeter Braff and a band of top studio musicians swinging the arrangements of Bob Wilber. Go here

Urbie Green—East Coast Jazz/Vol. 6 (1955). Superb playing by the smoothest trombonist around. Urbie fronted a septet here that included Danny Bank on reeds, Doug Mettome on trumpet and Oscar Pettiford on bass. Go here.

Milt Hinton—Quartet (1955). The CD Tony Scott and the Three Dicks [pictured] combines several sessions by the great bassist. Go here.

Kai Winding and J.J. Johnson—K + JJ (1955). One of the early recordings by these dueling trombone giants. Go here.

 

Interview: Creed Taylor (Part 2)

In the late 1940s, Creed Taylor set his sights on playing trumpet in a big band or in clubs on New York's 52d Street. But after majoring in psychology at Duke University and spending two years in the Marine Corps, Creed decided he might be better off as a record producer. Passionate about jazz, Creed's college and military backgrounds certainly prepared him for achieving big goals, inspiring artists, and managing creative temperaments.

In Part 2 of my conversation with the legendary record producer, Creed talks about moving to New York in 1954, landing a job with Bethlehem Records, recording the label's first 10-inch LPs with Chris Connor, and how he promoted her records in the mid-1950s. Creed also resolves the mystery of how radio announcer Bob Garrity's voice wound up on some versions of the 10-inch LP announcing Connor at Birdland:

JazzWax: In 1954, you arrived in New York determined to become a record producer. What did you know about producing?
Creed Taylor: Nothing. I was just convinced I could do it. I had this drive. It was a mix of naivete and positive thinking. I've always looked at possibilities that way.

JW: Even back in Virginia?
CT: When I was in high school I heard the Elliot Lawrence band at Virginia Tech. I was so taken with that 1946-47 band, I jumped on the band’s bus and waited until Elliot came on. When he came on I walked up to him and said, “Hey Elliot, my name is Creed Taylor. I want to get on your band.”

JW: Just like that?
CT: Just like that.

JW: Did you think you were good enough?
CT: Yes. Elliot gave me his card and said to give his manager a call. He said, “When we get back to New York I'll talk to my manager and we’ll give you a call.” I, of course, let that blow over. But I look back on that event and ask myself “How did I do that?” I was naïve.

JW: Did you have an inkling of how to produce an LP?
CT: Like everyone else who was interested in jazz at the time, I was listening to Norman Granz's Jazz at the Philharmonic and Alfred Lion's Blue Note recordings. There were great soloists at the time. But I thought the listener’s attention span was being stretched by interminable bass and drum solos. Any solo that went on forever, I thought, was the wrong way to try to make people like the music I loved. So I decided that I would produce records that I liked, recorded the way I wanted to hear them.

JW: When you got to New York, where did you stay?
CT: I had a room in a walkup on 86th St. and Riverside Drive. Immediately after I moved in, I went down to a record company near Times Square that had been co-founded by a drummer from Duke University. He had met Gus Wildi, a Swiss guy with a lot of money, and together they had started a company called Bethlehem Records.

JW: How was the company doing?
CT: When I got to New York in 1954, the label was on its last legs. They were still recording 78-rpms at a time when the 10-inch LP was coming in. I told them, “There are 10-inch LPs out there and you guys have a singer who’s great named Chris Connor." She had already recorded for Bethlehem in December 1953 with Sy Oliver’s orchestra, but they didn't know what to do with her.

JW: What did you do?
CT: In the summer of '54, I talked to Chris [pictured] and found out she had vast knowledge of great songs that were hip and that she wanted to record them. I told Bethlehem to let me go in and produce the label's first 10-inch LP with her. I told them I was going to call it Lullaby of Birdland. They gave me the go ahead. Even though the company wasn’t in great shape, the owner had funds and realized it was a necessary investment.

JW: What did you have in mind for Chris?
CT: Back then there was a piano player named Ellis Larkins [pictured]. I thought he was fantastic. For me, he was like Wynton Kelly, who was recording for Blue Note and Verve at the time. I told Chris we should do her album with the Ellis Larkins’ trio. She loved the idea. So I called Ellis and booked the Fulton Recording Studios, at 80 West 40th St., across from Bryant Park. I knew Tom Dowd, the engineer there. I had met him at Birdland, and he was a very musical guy. So when Ellis and Chris came to the studio in early August, I sat in the booth with Tom and did what I do today. Chris and I had decided which songs to record in advance. The result was so terrific that a few weeks later we recorded her with the Vinnie Burke Quartet for another 10-inch LP. We also recorded an album in 1955 with Kai Winding and J.J. Johnson.

JW: But back in the mid-1950s, producing didn’t end in the engineer's booth, did it?
CT: No, no. Once Chris recorded, I had to get the record on the radio. I listened to the radio a great deal then. So I went over to WNEW and WABC with a dub of the session and did on-air interviews. I also worked on point-of-sale efforts. When Lullaby of Birdland came out, I had a big six-foot high cutout of Chris standing in front of Birdland to promote the album. I also brought special copies to radio stations that that allowed radio announcers [such as WINS' Bob Garrity] to dub in their voices, so it sounded like they were announcing her [at Birdland]. Life was very simple then [laughing].

JW: What else did you do for the album?
CT: I reached out to radio stations popular with black audiences. The disc jockeys there knew which jazz records were great and which weren't. Their audiences and other jockeys in the city knew that what they played often set the trend. I became friendly with many of these jockeys. They, in turn, were friends with jockeys who broadcast during drive-time hours, which had the largest audiences. Fortunately they thought Chris' album was very hip. I asked if they would talk to the other jockeys and get them to play the album, and they did.

JW: How did you put records in stores?
CT: I had to become friendly with record distributors and store buyers and merchandisers. Through all of these combined efforts, Lullaby of Birdland became something of a hit for Bethlehem. But none of my efforts would have paid off if the album hadn’t been superb to begin with.

Tomorrow, in Part 3, Creed talks about the unique look of Bethlehem's album covers, how he discovered Herbie Mann, the significance of Charlie's Tavern, and how he convinced jazz giants like Oscar Pettiford to tighten up the length of their solos.

JazzWax tracks: Chris Connor recorded four LPs for Bethlehem, three under Creed Taylor's direction. The Creed Taylor albums featuring the Ellis Larkins Trio, the Vinnie Burke Quartet and the Kai Winding-J.J. Johnson Quintet remain solid examples of Chris' "slick chick" vocal style and her unrestrained ability to tell a heart-torn story through a song's lyrics.

All of her Bethlehem output is available on a Fresh Sound CD here. Or you can download Chris Connor Sings Lullabys of Birdland from iTunes, which includes tracks from three of her Bethlehem albums. The remastering on this download is astonishingly clear and crisp. Included in the download is a fascinating Why Shouldn't I (Alt Take 2). At the start of the take, you can hear Creed's voice announcing from the booth, "Cut 2...Go."

JazzWax perspective: As you'll hear on these recordings, Creed Taylor's pairing of Chris Connor with Ellis Larkins and then Vinnie Burke were strokes of genius. Connor's husky yet vulnerable voice in 1954 and 1955 demanded delicate instrumentation, not a rip-roaring big band. While Connor's two closest rivals with similar phrasing, June Christy and Anita O'Day, continued to front big bands on recordings, Creed and Connor broke barriers, helping to establish the female vocalist as someone with a soft story to tell.

To fully grasp the importance of Connor's Bethlehem sessions, consider this: Months after Lullaby of Birdland hit, Capitol Records decided to try putting June Christy in the studio with only Stan Kenton on piano for the Duets album. Interestingly, the album remains plodding and ill-conceived. Christy did record with the Ernie Felice Quartet in 1950, but she's really belting out the tracks rather than whispering in your ear. Her only trio date of the 1950s was A Lovely Way to Spend an Evening (1957) with the Shelly Manne Trio.

On a re-listen of Christy's trio date, you come to the realization that she really wasn't comfortable being backed by a small group. While she could give it up effortlessly when supported by horns, she had trouble figuring out how to miniaturize her talents with a trio or quartet.

As for O'Day, she recorded with the Nat King Cole trio in 1944 and the Tadd Dameron trio at the Royal Roost in 1948. But those dates really were novelty and bop sessions. Her first full-fledged, intimate trio album isn't until 1958, when she records Anita O'Day at Mr. Kelly's.

The rise of the intimate female vocalist, supported softly by a lush jazz trio or quartet, starts with Chris Connor and Carmen McRae, who also recorded for Creed Taylor and Bethlehem Records during this period.

Interview: Creed Taylor (Part 1)

One of the unsung heroes of jazz history is the jazz record producer. From the birth of the LP in the early 1950s (first the 10-inch disc and then the 12-inch record), producers were responsible for championing jazz artists, signing them to labels, creating the vision for record dates, shaping the album's song selection, setting the order, choosing and assembling the sidemen, and ensuring that what audiences heard sounded great. Then their necks were on the line to promote, market and sell the result. [photo of Quincy Jones and producer Creed Taylor]

Of all the great record producers of the LP era, one of the most successful was Creed Taylor. Since the early 1950s, Creed pioneered new ways of recording and packaging artists at Bethlehem Records (1954-56), brought jazz into the mainstream at ABC Paramount (1956-60), launched Impulse Records (1960), created blockbuster albums at Verve (1960-67), merged jazz and pop at A&M Records (1967-69), and sustained jazz at CTI Records (1970-78) when jazz seemed destined for the scrap heap. Through the decades, Creed helped artists such as Stan Getz, John Coltrane, Jack Teagarden and Wes Montgomery successfully re-invent themselves. And with the help of photographer Pete Turner, he set new standards for album cover design and packaging in the 1960s and 1970s. [photo of Creed and Wes Montgomery above by Chuck Stewart]

In Part 1 of my four-part interview with Creed on his early years at Bethlehem, we talked first about his life growing up in rural Virginia, his service in the Marines, and the radio personality who convinced him to abandon graduate studies in psychology and pursue his dream of becoming a New York City jazz record producer:

JazzWax: Where did you grow up?
Creed Taylor: My family lived in Bedford, Virginia [pictured], a rural town in the middle of the state, about 50 miles from Lynchburg. My grandfather was editor and publisher of The Bedford Democrat, a newspaper he founded. My father started a flourmill in southwestern Virginia, so we moved back and forth between Bedford and a hamlet west of Roanoke called White Gate.

JW: Did you play an instrument in school?
CT: I played trumpet in high school. I chose the trumpet because of Harry James. I loved his records on the radio. But over time I found I wasn’t crazy about his vibrato so I moved on to Dizzy Gillespie. That is, until I ordered a couple of transcribed Dizzy Gillespie solos. Once I had a look at those, I figured I was better off sticking with Harry as a role model. [pictured: Creed Taylor, right]

JW: Were you good?
CT: Yeah, I was.

JW: Did playing the trumpet come naturally to you?
CT: It did. The music I heard growing up was blue grass and Country music. I’d hear it all the time when we were living in White Gate. Our homestead was two mountains away from where the Carter Family lived. I used to go up to the local high school and listen to Bill Monroe, the Carter Family and all of those guys. There were fantastic fiddle players there—hoedown sort of stuff. [pictured: Carter Family homestead]

JW: What do you mean by “two mountains away?”
CT: You drove or walked up one mountain and down the other side and then over another one. There were no towns. The area was rural. The Carter Family recorded in Bristol, on the border of Tennessee and Virginia, just to the west White Gate. So I heard this music all the time, both live and on the family radio. [pictured: A.P. Carter's cabin]

JW: Did you like blue grass and Country music?
CT: It drove me nuts. However, a few years ago I started listening to Country music again. My maturity has given me a new perspective on this genre. [pictured: The Carter Family]

JW: What music did you listen to in rural Virginia?
CT: I loved the big bands and jazz, which was a lot more fun to listen to. It was cooler music. It made you feel hip, not corny.

JW: How did you ever hear jazz and big band music in the far reaches of Virginia?
CT: I had a small radio in my bed that I listened to very late at night. When everyone was asleep, that radio could pick up the frequency from WJZ in New York coming over the mountains. I’d hear Symphony Sid’s [pictured] broadcasts directly from Birdland. He’d paint amazing pictures on the air. He said he sat in a glass booth overlooking the club, and between sets he'd observe what was going on. He’d say things like, “Well look over there, it’s Kai Winding talking to Diz at the bar. And, Count Basie just walked in to catch a set.” Stuff like that.

JW: Why did Symphony Sid's banter have such a hold on you?
CT: Everything he talked about was so cool and clear in my head, not just about the music but also the social surroundings of the jazz players. All I could think of was, “Wow, this music is something else.” I couldn’t wait to get up to New York and start meeting the people Symphony Sid was talking about.

JW: Did your parents like jazz?
CT: Sure. But for them, jazz was ragtime or Leadbelly [pictured]  or Jelly Roll Morton. My folks loved music, no matter what it was. My grandmother was a fiddle player.

JW: Before you came to New York, you studied psychology at Duke University. Was your father unhappy about that?
CT: Funny you should ask. He was. He wanted me to become a doctor. So I took two years of premed to get it out of my system and get my father off my back. I started majoring in psychology when I was a junior.

JW: What did you do after college?
CT: I went to graduate school at Duke to study psychology. But my studies were interrupted by the draft. I spent two years in the Marine Corps, starting in September 1951. I didn’t choose the Marines. They chose me. It was not a picnic. I spent the first year at Parris Island, which was grueling. I taught illiterate Marine recruits how to read and write. There were so many recruits pouring into the service then because of the Korean War and the threat of China’s invasion.

JW: Were you sent to Korea?
CT: Yes. They shipped me over to Korea in 1952. But before I left, I was stationed for a few weeks at Camp Pendleton, about a half hour north of San Diego. On leave, every weekend I used to go up to The Lighthouse at Hermosa Beach. I heard the original Gerry Mulligan-Chet Baker Quartet, Art Pepper, Red Norvo, Tal Farlow, Charles Mingus and many others. [photo: Ray Avery Archive]

JW: Did you talk to these guys while you were there?
CT: Oh sure. I became good friends with Shorty Rogers, who showed me chord structures and how he wrote his arrangements. Shorty [pictured, standing] was such a nice guy. He was so modest and helpful. The Red Norvo Trio knocked me out. I spoke to Red and Tal, but Mingus was kind of distant. I bought a 10-inch LP of the Mulligan-Baker group and took it with me to Korea along with a battery-operated record player. I listened to that group in my bunker, on the front line in Korea. I still have that record someplace.

JW: Did you see action in Korea?
CT: I spent a year in combat. For a time I was a forward observer. I worked with a map that had quadrants of the terrain out front. When I saw lights on a convoy traveling through no-man’s land, my job was to call them back to the 105mm Artillery, which opened up on the lights. We were under the auspices of the UN. I was there until the truce was announced in September 1953, exactly two years after I was drafted.

JW: Were you a different person when you were discharged?
CT: Not really. I think I blended right back in.

JW: Did you return to Virginia?
CT: Yes. But as soon as I got back, I decided right away to move to New York. I told my family that I was going to New York to play in bands. They weren’t too happy about that. But what I really wanted to do was produce records.

Tomorrow, in Part 2, Creed talks about arriving in New York, how he landed a job at Bethlehem Records, his first record produced for Chris Connor called Lullaby of Birdland, and what he did to make the 10-inch LP a jazz hit.

"Park Avenue Petite": Mystery Solved

Benny Golson's Park Avenue Petite is easily one of the most beautiful and most underrated ballads ever written. Yet the meaning of its title has remained largely unknown. Despite extensive online research yesterday and several well-placed phone calls, I could not uncover the song's inspiration. So I reached out to Benny Golson himself, who provided me with a wonderful tale. He also said that over the years, few have asked him about the piece. More with Benny on Park Avenue Petite in a minute. [photo by Oliver Rossberg]

Benny is indisputably one of the most prolific and prettiest writers of jazz's best-loved melodies and standards. His poetic pen gave us I Remember Clifford, Stablemates, Along Came Betty, Whisper Not, Blues March, Five Spot After Dark, Killer Joe and Are You Real? Not to mention dozens and dozens of other dynamic hard bop compositions and film scores.

For me, what makes Park Avenue Petite so special is its introspective, rainy night mood. While the song's sister ballad, I Remember Clifford, has this same potent reflective quality, I somehow always wind up thinking about trumpeter Clifford Brown when I hear it. Which is exactly the point of I Remember Clifford. By contrast, Park Avenue Petite has no such connection, so you invariably think about yourself. As the ballad inhales and exhales at the pace of your pulse, your mind just starts to wander. You can't help it.

Written in the late 1950s, the inspiration for Park Avenue Petite and the title's meaning have remained largely unknown—until now. Here's what Benny told me yesterday afternoon about the song:

"The inspiration for Park Avenue Petite came from my imagination and nothing real. I thought of a lovely single young lady living in one of Park Avenue's high rises. Each day she passes the building's doorman without knowing that he has great admiration for her. However, he is never able to approach her or express his feelings because of his job and her high position in society. The lady is so high above him socially.

"Sadness, futility, desperation, hopelessness and unfulfillment become his metier as he mechanically opens the door for her each day, sharing only her delightful, captivating and alluring smile."

Wow, I love it. The melody and title make complete sense now, and the context gives the song new meaning. I don't think I'll ever ride up Park Avenue in a cab again without thinking of Benny's haunting melody. In a recent NPR interview, Benny explained his definition of what makes a musician special:

"Somebody once said to me, 'How can a musician prove his mettle—by how fast he plays?' No, I said, by how slow he plays. Dizzy Gillespie [pictured] said, 'Slow it down enough to eat a sandwich between each beat.' Ballad playing says it all about a musician because there's no room to hide."

JazzWax tracks: Park Avenue Petite has been recorded only about a dozen times. To play this ballad properly, you have to be willing to crawl way inside yourself and feel the melody line. The song also presents a bit of a challenge, since it was aced twice early on—once by Blue Mitchell [pictured] on Blue Soul and again by Art Farmer on Meet the Jazztet.

Yet each musician who has taken on Benny Golson's ballad has created a slightly different feel without compromising the song's yearning theme. Here are the great interpretations of Park Avenue Petite:

Blue Mitchell—Blue Soul (1959). This was the first recording of Park Avenue Petite, and the way in which producer Orrin Keepnews captured Blue's trumpet adds to the haunting quality. Recorded for Riverside Records, Blue sounds as if he's playing in a high-ceilinged church. As you'll hear, there's enormous space around his horn, adding to the feeling of restrained loneliness. Concord Records just reissued Blue Soul as part of its Keepnews Collection, and the remastering is beyond belief. The CD includes a bonus track of Park Avenue Petite (Take 1) that runs about two minutes longer than the master. To my ear, it's the definitive version. The album is available at iTunes or the CD, a must, is available here.

Art Farmer—Meet the Jazztet (February 1960). This version of Park Avenue Petite was recorded on the classic Meet the Jazztet, with Benny Golson on tenor, Curtis Fuller on trombone, McCoy Tyner on piano, Addison Farmer on bass and Lex Humphries on drums. Farmer uses a mute here, and his taut musical expressions have a sizzling, summer afternoon quality compared with Blue's rainy night feel. As always, Farmer fills the space with perfect phrasing without ever overplaying or dominating. The album is available at iTunes and the CD, also a must, is available here or as part of Mosaic Records box, The Complete Mercury Art Farmer/Benny Golson/Jazztet here.

Howard McGhee—Dusty Blue (June 1960). McGhee plays the song along with the album's ensemble: Bennie Green on trombone, Roland Alexander on tenor sax, Pepper Adams on baritone sax, Tommy Flanagan on piano, Ron Carter on bass and Walter Bolden on drums. As a result, the ballad is less of a solitary expression and more of a collective, hard bop statement.

Brian Lynch—Peer Pressure (1986). Trumpeter Lynch brings a different feel to the song, with a sharper and more forceful tone. Interestingly, he purposefully slurs many of the held notes, giving the song more a melancholy, film noir feel.

Russell Gunn—Mood Swings (1999). Like Art Farmer, trumpeter Gunn chooses to frame the melody with a mute. Gunn takes Park Avenue Petite a hair slower than most other versions, which makes the song even more interesting. Most important, he's joined by Radam Schwartz on Hammond organ, Eric Johnson on guitar, Cecil Brooks III on drums. The organ trio groove provides the tune with a Charles Earland-influenced, 1970s feel. The album is available at iTunes.

Eddie Henderson—The Terminal (2004). This rendition of Park Avenue Petite appeared on Benny Golson's album Terminal 1, which was inspired by the film The Terminal starring Tom Hanks. Benny appears in the movie, as does his music. In addition to Benny, the song features trumpeter Eddie Henderson, whose reading is warmer and rounder than most other contemporary renditions. Benny and Eddie were joined by Mike LeDonne on piano, Buster Williams on bass and Carl Allen on drums. The album is available at iTunes or on CD here.