Following my post yesterday on Dave Brubeck's Dave Digs Disney (1957), I heard from Iola Brubeck, Dave's wife. The album has been newly remastered and reissued by Sony/Legacy in mono and stereo versions plus alternate takes. If you were ever a kid, you'll love the new release, which is brimming with childlike optimism and energy. [Pictured: Iola and Dave Brubeck]
Here's Iola's email to me:
"Dave Digs Disney has always been one of our favorites, too. As you noted in your post, the Dave Brubeck Quartet had played some of those Disney-related tunes for several years before the album was actually made.
"Dave was familiar with the melodies because our five kids loved to play them on their individual portable record players. The records were the vinyl Little Golden Records series that I believe were issued by Disney. Dave had heard those tunes repeatedly around the house until they sank into his subconscious, I guess, and the group began to play some of the tunes. Some Day My Prince Will Come became a favorite of ours, as well as Alice in Wonderland.
"Disneyland in California had been open a couple of years before we had an opportunity to take our family from Oakland to Anaheim for a visit. That was when Dave was struck with the idea of recording an album devoted to the Disney melodies. I believe he had the idea right in the park and called George Avakian immediately.
"From what I understand, the business heads at Disney were not too interested in a jazz recording of its songs, so a tie-in was not possible. The solution was to call the album Dave Digs Disney and to use the image you see on the cover, not the park.
"It is interesting that you mentioned in your post that Dave Digs Disney was the second best-selling album in Dave's Columbia catalog. Dave used to joke about that when he introduced Someday My Prince Will Come at concerts. He would say that the reason the album sold so well was that Columbia added Dave Digs Disney to its Columbia House Record Club lineup.
"Columbia had a policy of automatically sending out recordings to members of the club and if not returned within a certain number of days, it was considered a purchase. Dave said he could only imagine the surprise some grandparents experienced when they received the record and played it for little Johnny or Jane expecting a nice "Mickey Mouse" album of sweet Disney tunes.
"I found the new album's outtakes to be particularly interesting. It's fun to compare takes and try to guess why one was chosen over the other. I'm biased, of course, but they all sound good to me."
JazzWax tracks: The newly remastered mono and stereo versions of Dave Digs Disney (Sony/Legacy) are available in a single release at iTunes or here (download) and here (CD).
In the summer of 1957, Dave Brubeck and Paul Desmond decided to record an album of well-known tunes from Walt Disney's animated films. Though Dave Digs Disney was first issued digitally in 1994, the album for years mysteriously remained on the back burner whenever Columbia producers reached into the vaults to remaster Dave's albums using the latest technology. Now Sony/Legacy has finally reissued the storied Disney album, and it sounds splendid. Best of all, the lemon meringue release includes both mono and stereo versions as well as alternate takes.
Yesterday, I spoke to George Avakian, the album's original producer, about the recording. More with George in a moment.
Dave Digs Disney has been a personal favorite of mine for years. I've long loved its sophisticated bedtime story quality and whimsy. Listening to it always sounds like a visit to a childhood neighborhood as an adult. Having spent hours with Dave on the phone and at his Connecticut home last December, I can tell you that this album is dear to his heart and one of the closest representations of who he is as a sunny, optimistic artist.
According to Sony, Dave Digs Disney is the second most important album in Dave's catalogue after Time Out. The album was recorded over three different dates between June and August 1957—in New York, Los Angeles and again in New York. The original LP was issued only in mono, though stereo tapes were recorded at the time. Typically, mono versions were followed by a stereo release six months later. But back in 1957, at the dawn of the stereo era, there wasn't enough of a market. People simply didn't have the gear in large enough numbers, and Columbia decided to hold off.
So why did Dave bother recording an album of Disney songs anyway? According to George's original liner notes, Dave had called him from Disneyland in California after taking his five children on the rides. Excited by the experience, Dave thought an album of Disney movie songs would be a great idea.
The truth is Dave and alto saxophonist Paul Desmond had been playing a batch of Disney songs since the very early 1950s. Dave loved their lyrical, playful quality, probably from his first-hand experience of taking his kids to the movies before Disneyland opened. After all, The Duke was written in 1954 after dropping off one of his sons at school.
Today, a jazz version of a Disney song is hardly a surprise. But back in the '50s, no one in jazz took Disney movies or their soundtracks seriously. Disney represented Squaresville, a largely white Utopian world in which bad moods, misfortune and unconventional lifestyles simply didn't exist. Even the term "Mickey Mouse" was musicians' code for rinky-dink, not the real deal, and lightweight.
The Dave Brubeck Quartet was the first modern jazz group to treat Disney songs seriously. This, of course, excludes the swing-era big bands that recorded quirky, "Mickey Mouse" adaptations. For instance, Dave's group first recorded Alice in Wonderland and Give a Little Whistle in 1952 for Fantasy. In each case, the rendition was a robust, adventurous interpretation rather than a sticky embrace. Bill Evans and Miles Davis followed, and soon even John Coltrane was getting into the act with My Favorite Things and Chim Chim Cher-ee.
Here's what George Avakian told me yesterday:
"The Disney theme was Dave's idea, and I was amazed when he called and told me what he wanted to do. I think I said, 'Jesus, what a goofy idea.' But anything Dave wanted short of tearing down the building was fine with me. He was taken with the tunes, and the quintet had been playing them on the road quite a bit. As you know, Dave and Paul had a quirky sense of humor.
"I was little more than a traffic cop on those sessions. It was one of the easiest dates I ever produced. When the record came out, there were a few who said, 'What is Dave doing recording Disney?' The inference was that the album's theme was somehow trite or child-like, and not nearly as serious as Dave’s earlier efforts. None of which was the case then—or now. Dave was ahead of his time tapping into the Disney songbook. Look at how many artists have done the same since."
The new reissue taps into your inner child, is relentlessly upbeat and offers some terrific improvising by Dave and Desmond.
JazzWax tracks:Dave Digs Disney (Sony/Legacy) is available at iTunes or here (download) and here (CD).
Among the least known but most fascinating jazz recordings of the early 1960s are five albums recorded by a quartet co-led by clarinetist Buddy DeFranco and accordionist Tommy Gumina. The first album was recorded for Decca in 1960 while the balance were done for Mercury through 1964. For some odd reason, none of the albums have been reissued on CD, and mint copies of the LPs go for double-digits at eBay. [Pictured: Buddy DeFranco and Tommy Gumina, courtesy of Tommy Gumina]
What made these recordings special was their sophisticated approach. Both DeFranco and Gumina were monster swingers and technicians. They also were fully aware of the pitfalls of combining a clarinet and accordion. Together, the instruments' pleasing personalities pull naturally toward commercial pop, which was the kiss of death for true jazz artists.
So Buddy and Gumina came up with a way to keep the music interesting: They played in a polychordal style— meaning Buddy would run the chord changes to a song on the clarinet while improvising. Gumina would voice the song's chords in such a way that he'd be playing in a different key. The resulting sound was provocative without ever losing the melodic quality of the songs. [Pictured: The Buddy DeFranco-Tommy Gumina Quartet, courtesy of Joyce and Buddy DeFranco]
I spoke with Buddy, 88, last week about this nearly forgotten, short-lived quartet and what they were trying to achieve:
JazzWax: When did you first meet Tommy Gumina? Buddy DeFranco: I met Tommy through my drummer Frank DeVito. In late 1959, I was looking for a piano player for a weekend gig at a club in California. I called Frank for a recommendation. He called me back and said he couldn’t find a pianist, that everyone was working that weekend. But he said he knew of a terrific accordion player.
JW: What did you think? BDF: I thought no way. An accordionist in 1960 was the kiss of death. It was a fast way to sound like a lounge act. When I mentioned this to Frank, he protested. He said, “No, no, Buddy, this guy is different.” I needed a keyboard for the date, so I went ahead and hired Tommy.
JW: How did it work out? BDF: That night, when we first played together, we clicked. Most accordion players, even the ones who claim to be jazz players, didn’t really know how to function in that space on a sophisticated level. Many could swing, but their voicings were fairly predictable. Tommy was different.
JW: How so? BDF: He was an experimental musician. He had a special accordion made with a row of bass line chords as well as root 7 and root 10 chords. That gave enormous depth to the bottom of what we were doing. Tommy had an ear for swing but also an unbelievable technique. He was very different from everyone else. He was technically advanced beyond most people on the instrument.
JW: Was the quartet always going to be about polytones? BDF: Yes, it was. Tommy and I had already been fiddling around with polytonal music on our own. So was Nelson Riddle. We were kind of gearing toward it. But instead of sticking with polytones—notes played in two different keys—we changed it to polychordal.
JW: What is polychordal? BDF: As I’m playing in one key, Tommy was playing unusual structures of chord progressions so it sounded like a different key. I was able to play along, traveling in any of the chord structures he put together. To the average ear, the joy is in the clash of these two keys. The result was a texture that sounded both off kilter and just right. A little messy but right on target.
JW: A dumb question—was Spud Murphy’s "equal interval system” related to what you were trying to achieve with Gumina? BDF: That’s not a dumb question at all. Spud’s system was indeed the beginning of that. Tommy and I—and Nelson Riddle—elaborated on it.
JW: How soon before you both realized you had a good thing going? BDF: Almost immediately. It was incredible. It was a combination of being able to swing and having knowledge of polychordal devices, being able to play with those upper-structure triads. With what we were doing, you had a basic chord and then two or three other chords placed above that structure.
JW: How could you play with such complexity and speed? BDF: What do you mean?
JW: The music sounds hard to play yet travels fast and never loses its swinging jazz feel. BDF: If you have an ear for it and a tendency to play that way, you wind up with a free feeling. We had an unlimited source of harmonies. To the average ear, you sense something sophisticated is going on but you can’t quite figure it out. Mind you, this had nothing to do with free jazz. We were playing within a structure.
JW: Is it fun to play clarinet with an accordion behind you? BDF: Fun?
JW: Yes. The instrument has such a rich personality, especially when it swings. BDF: Oh, my yes. The sound is full, like an organ, but it inhales and exhales, providing a thick base for me to operate from creatively. More important, with Tommy, he was doing complex things back there, which made the experience for me more challenging.
JW: And yet with the accordion, you must have been constantly walking a fine line between jazz and pop. BDF: That’s true, but it was never a concern. We were operating on a complex level. We never slipped into that obvious clarinet-accordion feel. And that’s probably why we never caught on [laughs]. People saw a clarinet and accordion and expected a very specific sound. What they got was much more challenging musically. Maybe 10 years earlier, what we were doing would have been more accepted. Instead, we were a bit too complex to catch on commercially.
JW: How would you two work together? BDF: Tommy always used his left hand to play root 7 and 10 chords, so we never lost the basis of the entire composition. He was so good he was able to function in two or three keys above that. I was playing in and out of upper-structure triads. The concept was to play freely, not contrived. He got the whole tonality thing.
JW: Did you work out the arrangements in advance? BDF: A lot of what we did was worked out, but it wasn’t contrived. One thing led naturally to the next. Tommy would get a bright idea and then I would pick up on it and develop it. Or sometimes I would play something that would bring him into another dimension. Everything always seemed to flow. We didn’t think about sticking to a rigid formula. We just did it. We both had an ear for tonality.
JW: And yet Decca took a chance and signed the group for its first album in 1960. BDF: At most of the record companies, the a&r guys bought what we did. They had ears and liked what we were developing. They saw how different it was.
JW:Spring Will Be a Little Late This Year from the Polytones LP is a particularly beautiful arrangement. BDF: That was basically Tommy’s arrangement. Tommy Dorsey used to say, “There’s a tempo for every song.” Tommy’s arrangement for Spring Will Be a Little Late This Year was taken at the perfect tempo. I had a good flair for polytonality, so I had fun on there. Tommy had an exceptional talent for understanding two or three tonalities at the same time, and you could hear it all on that song.
JW: Did the quartet tour? BDF: We toured quite a bit, all over the country. But it was hard to stay afloat financially. Many weeks Tommy had to go into his bank account to keep the group going. The audiences were so hard to predict. Sometimes we’d be in some obscure town and the club would be packed with people who’d jump up and down. In other towns, big ones, we’d play and get almost no reaction. We had our fans, though, even some fanatics, too. Movie composer David Raksin followed us around whenever we were in California. He loved us.
JW: Did you get bad requests? BDF: What do you mean?
JW: You know, like some drunk guy insisting you play Marie? BDF: [Laughs] Most of the time the requests were worse than Marie. Sometimes they’d ask for a Lawrence Welk song. Tommy had a little temper. Plenty of times I had to talk him out of throwing his accordion at them.
JW: Why did the group break up in 1964? BDF: We ran out of places to play. Rock and roll reared its ugly head. Theaters closed, clubs closed, radio programs folded. When the Beatles came from England and played, a true musician couldn’t believe it. It was impossible to fathom how that music was so popular and why it was putting so many great musicians out of work.
JW: Looking back, what do you think about this quartet? BDF: I still feel great about what we did. We had some pretty good times. Once in a while we’d hit it just right. Most of the club owners knew what they were buying when they hired us. They were mostly jazz clubs and the owners could relate to our experimentation.
JW: Which album was the high point? BDF: I like Polytones best. We really hit our stride on there.
JW: When you boil down Gumina’s playing, what was so appealing about it from your perspective? BDF: Tommy had a technique like Art Tatum's. That brush of notes energizes me. It was special, and for a player, exciting. It challenged me to try to new things, to take risks. It was both inspiring and competitive. That quartet was one of the highlights of my career. It’s still pleasing to the ear without selling out.
JazzWax tracks: Between 1960 and 1964, Buddy DeFranco and Tommy Gumina recorded five albums. They are: Pacific Standard Swingin' Time (1960), Presenting the Quartet (1961), Kaleidoscope (1962), Polytones (1963) and The Girl From Ipanema (1964).
My favorite is Presenting the Quartet. Unfortunately, none of the LPs has been released digitally, making the five albums a prime candidate for a Mosaic Select release. Some of these albums may be available at download sites.
JazzWax clip: Now would I write this long, enticing post without leaving you with a taste of what this brilliant group sounded like? Of course not. Here's Spring Will Be a Little Late This Year, from the quartet's Polytones LP. Dig the polychordal mashes of Buddy DeFranco and Tommy Gumina, that swell intoxicating tempo and the swirl down at the end...
Upon his return to Rio in 1968 following an extended American tour, Marcos Valle began to record with a new confidence. His music also took on a more percussive and rock feel as Brazilian music changed and developed over the decades. But he also retained his knack for passionate ballads and spirited songs with catchy melodies.
In Part 3 of my three-part interview with Valle, the legendary singer-songwriter talks about his mentor Antonio Carlos Jobim, his rediscovery by young European and American club-goers in the '90s and why he sometimes wishes for rain:
JazzWax: So many people in America know your melodies but your name is still not as well known here as Antonio Carlos Jobim’s or Joao Gilberto’s. Looking back, do you wish you had moved to America? Marcos Valle: If I could go back in time, with the experience and confidence that I have today, I would have stayed longer in the U.S. beyond 1968. But back then, I was young and shy. The best thing for me then was to be in Rio.
JW: Were you accepted by Jobim, Gilberto and other first-generation bossa nova artists? MV: Jobim [pictured] was very nice to me. He had invited me to his home in Ipanema in 1962. At the time, Milton Miranda of Odeon records wanted Jobim to write the arrangements for my first album. I had just signed a five-year contract with the label, and Milton was over at Jobim’s house. Jobim had heard my songs and liked them very much. At his home, he said to his son Paulo, “Listen to the beautiful songs this young boy has written."
JW: What happened next? MV: Jobim asked if I had written out the songs. I told him I hadn’t. He asked me why not. I said I didn’t think I could. But Jobim knew that I had studied classical and that I was able to read music. He asked Milton Miranda to leave and had me stay.
JW: Why? MV: Jobim insisted on seeing me write my first song in his house. When Milton left, Jobim took me upstairs to his son’s room. He brought me music paper, a pencil and an eraser. Every so often he would come by and take a look at what I had written out, at times correcting me. And so I was able to do it . I never will forget that.
JW: Did you stay in touch with Jobim? MV: Oh, of course. Later, when Summer Samba became a big hit in the U.S., Jobim [pictured] told me what steps to take to capitalize on it. He was also my neighbor in Leblon, Brazil, where I lived with my family. He moved to the house just in front of ours. Sometimes we would call each other and ask, "Is your piano tuned?" Then we would choose the one that was in better condition and cross the street to play it.
JW: Did he hear Summer Samba? MV: Yes, I rehearsed it with him at his house, with Jobim at the piano and me on guitar. We were going to record an album of my songs but unfortunately it wasn’t to be. He died in 1994. I still love him and miss him today.
JW: How long have you known Wanda Sa, who is appearing with you at Birdland this week? MV: We started at virtually the same time in the early ‘60s. We would go the same clubs to play and sing. She’s very beautiful and sensual, with a whispering voice. She recorded her first record in 1963, as did I. Hers was released just a little before mine. She also recorded a song of mine called E Vem O Sol.
JW: She was off the scene for a while, yes? MV: Yes. After she married songwriter Edu Lobo, she stopped singing for a long time. Years later, after she was divorced, she returned to recording again. Since then, she has been my guest in shows that I have done in Europe, Australia, Singapore and Brazil. Wanda is an excellent singer and a good friend. She also plays an excellent guitar.
JW: How did you and your music change in the ‘70s, '80s and '90s? MV: I have had many influences. My style is a combination of Baião, traditional samba, jazz, pop, bossa nova, r&b and rock. Bossa nova was dominant in my early records. But in later recordings, other influences show up. Over time, my experience and maturity gradually gave me more confidence to write my own arrangements and to start producing or co-producing my records. I also enjoy performing live much more now.
JW: Your songs were among the first to be remixed for a more techno feel in the mid-'90s, yes? MV: Without my knowledge, disc jockeys in the U.K. discovered my music and started playing my old records in the clubs. My record, Samba ’68, was important for this. The deejays would play the original tracks and remix them to give them an audio lift. Gradually, disc jockeys in other countries started to do the same. Suddenly, I had a new, younger audience. Soon I was invited to appear in Europe and found a great young, energetic audience standing and cheering my songs. What a great experience.
JW: And then what? MV: After my old records were heard, they wanted new ones. The record labels in Europe started talking to me, and I chose FarOut Records, which was just being established by Joe Davis, a young British disc jockey who knew everything about my music . He was introduced to me by my talented friend, the singer known as Joyce.
JW: How does one write Brazilian music? Does it all start with a melody that pulls at the heart? MV: The inspiration comes from different sources. Something that moves you emotionally, like happiness, sadness, the sun, the slums, the suffering, the surf, love—especially love, because it involves everything. And you need to have love for your own music, to treat it well, as you would treat the person you love. I use one or other of these emotions when I write songs.
JW: Your new album, Estatica, is a dramatic work and highly cinematic in its build, yes? MV: Estatica shows me exactly as I feel at the moment now. Samba is very important, as is the Baião, which I use in three of the album’s songs. The psychedelic aspect of my music also is there, with the synthesizers as well as the grooves.
JW: What’s next? MV: A box of my ‘60s and ‘70s records will be released in Brazil by EMI in June. When it comes out, we will have different shows in Brazil promoting the set. After my shows at Birdland this week, we will begin to prepare for these shows. In August I will perform at European festivals, after which I will perform in Moscow, Miami and Montreal. At the end of the year, three records will be released that I recorded in the ‘80s. By then, I probably will be thinking about recording a new CD.
JW: How do you get any work done in a country as beautiful as Brazil? MV: Some days are indeed very difficult. I confess that when I am working on a new CD, I wish it was raining. But you get used to it. I live close to the beach, so I enjoy walking for an hour a day for exercise. Then I come back. Sometimes jump into the water. With this I am ready to work.
JazzWax tracks: I own 20 of Marcos Valle's albums. Each has a different mood and personality. And each contains melodic surprises and fascinating instrumental arrangements. His earliest recordings (Samba Demais, O Compositor e O Cantor, Braziliance! and Samba '68) are a must.
Then I would recommend Mustang cor de Sangue (1969), Garra (1971), Nova Bossa Nova (1997), Contrasts (2001), Jet Samba (2005) and Os Bossa Nova (2008) and Pagina Central (2009). All are gorgeous.
His most recent release, Estatica, is a terrific mix of bossa beats, electronics and samba. You'll find it at iTunes and here.
Another sensual gem is Eumir Deodato Plays Marcos Valle, featuring Deodato on the organ. The album appears to be out of print. Here's what it looks like if you can find it online or at download sites.
JazzWax clip:Here'sOs Dentes Brancos Do Mundo from Mustang cor de Sangue (1969)...
Here's a track from Eumir Deodato Plays Marcos Valle, one of my favorites...
And here'sPrefixo from Estatica, Marcos Valle's 2010 release...
Marcos Valle has a way with a melody, whether he's singing in Portuguese or English or simply playing the piano. Three albums are perfect evidence of his poetic ability: Braziliance! (1967) Samba '68 (1968) and Viola Enluarada (1968). In each case, you hear how Marcos baits a melody line to seduce the listener. Even songs with titles such as Crickets Sing for Anamaria or Chup Chup, I Got Away remain in your head long after the songs have finished playing.
In Part 2 of my three-part interview with Marcos, the bossa nova singer-songwriter talks about a shift in Brazilian music in the mid-'60s, his two-year trip to America and his return to Rio:
JazzWax: Are you naturally optimistic? Marcos Valle: Very, and I try to influence my sons Daniel [age19] and Tiago [age 17] to be the same way. But this does not mean that I’m blind to problems when they appear and try to help in some way. [Pictured from left: Sylvia Telles, Antonio Carlos Jobim, Roberto Menescal and Marcos Valle in 1964]
JW: What happened to Brazilian music in 1964? MV: What do you mean?
JW: There seemed to be a darker feel for a time, a folk movement that paralleled the one in the U.S. MV: After the military took over the government in 1964, many artists grew despondent. I had always thought in terms of melodies, harmonies and rhythms. But little by little, as the years wore on, I realized that we artists should do what we could to help hasten the return of democracy. Many artists met to discuss the situation. That’s when my brother and I started to write songs in a different way. [Pictured: Military takeover of Brazil in 1964]
JW: What changed with the music? MV: The melodies still had the same style but some of the lyrics were more socially directed. Much like your folk music in America from the same period. From that point on, my songs and my brother's lyrics faced many problems with censorship. We were asked many times by the government to make changes in phrases and, sometimes, entire lyrics.
JW: Why did you come to the U.S. in 1966? MV: When Summer Samba became a hit in America, Ray Gilbert, who was managing, publishing and writing lyrics for Antonio Carlos Jobim, asked Jobim for an introduction. After Jobim introduced Ray to me, Gilbert became my manager, publisher and English lyric writer. He also arranged a contract for me to record an instrumental album in Brazil of my songs for Warner Brothers. It was Braziliance!.
JW: What else did Gilbert do? MV: He booked me on a series of TV variety shows—including one hosted by Andy Williams, where Jobim had appeared. I also appeared on shows hosted by Merv Griffin and the Smothers Brothers. I remained in the U.S. for close to two years but I was homesick. So in 1968 I decided to return to Brazil, to be close to my family and friends.
JW: Were you nervous singing and playing with Andy Williams on TV in 1967? MV: Oh yes. All those rehearsals, that beautiful studio, our conversation. It was amazing for me. But I loved how it came out. When I look at that show now, I am amazed at how good it is—the sound, the mixing, the production and the singing. Andy was very nice to me the entire time.
JW: Why did you try to hit Marlon Brando at a party in Hollywood? MV: I had joined Sergio Mendes’ group for a year. While we were on tour in the U.S., I went to a party in 1966 where there were many important people from the music and movie business. There was a piano there along with a guitar, percussion instruments and microphones hanging from the ceiling. This allowed the sound of whoever was playing to be heard throughout the party. [Pictured: Marcos Valle, front left, with Sergio Mendes' Brasil '65]
JW: Who performed? MV: Many artists played and sang that night informally, including Henry Mancini, Johnny Mandel, Laurindo Almeida, Sergio Mendes, Petula Clark and me. The whole time Brando was playing the bongos. He never stopped. I remember he was rather heavy as well. [Pictured: Marcos Valle with Henry Mancini in 1967]
JW: What happened? MV: I was there with my first wife, Anamaria, who was 18 years old at the time and very beautiful. She was a brunette, the kind I guess that Brando went for. I was 21 years old. That night Anamaria sang with me while I played. Brando must have been waiting for a chance to talk to her.
JW: Did he? MV: When my wife and I decided to leave, the hosts were taking me to the door when Brando grabbed her arm. He said, “You are gorgeous, stay with me.” This made Anamaria really mad. She hated this kind of aggressive behavior by men, even Marlon Brando. Our host's friends could see what was stirring behind me and tried to patch it up so there wouldn’t be any trouble.
JW: What happened next? MV: My wife came over to me and said, “Do you know what that son of a bitch just did?” When I heard, I headed in his direction to hit him. But the host and other people there stopped me, telling me he was drunk and to forget about it.
JW: Did you hit him? MV: No. After calling him some bad names—probably in Portuguese, since I was so angry—the people there were able to take me and my wife outside and calm us down. The funny thing is that during all of this, Brando never stopped playing the bongos. Later, we laughed about that and commented that the worst thing about the party was having to listen to him play.
JW: What stopped you from staying in the U.S. longer, like Antonio Carlos Jobim did? MV: I was very young. I was not prepared to be so far from my friends and family for so long. I was used to an easy way of life in Brazil. The rigidity of the professional music business in the U.S. was difficult to deal with. So, I decided to return to Brazil.
JW: There was something about the Vietnam War as well, yes? MV: Since I was a registered U.S. resident for my tour with Sergio Mendes, I was told I had to enlist with the draft, which I did not know until 1967 when I appeared on TV shows. So I enlisted. But because I was Brazilian and had married in Brazil before the start of the Vietnam War, and because I had a small problem in my right eye, I didn't qualify for service. At the time I was recording Samba ‘68 for Verve.
JW: By the way, who was the female singer with you on Samba '68? What a gorgeous sound. MV: Anamaria, my wife at the time who was grabbed by Brando.
JW: What did you do when you returned to Rio in 1968? MV: I recorded a new album called Viola Enluarada. The title track became a big hit, and it is still one of my best-known songs.
JazzWax tracks: The instrumental album Braziliance! is not available as a download and seems to be unavailable as a CD. You'll find more information here. Samba '68 is a terrific album, with Marcos and his then wife Anamaria recording his compositions in English. It's available at iTunes and here. And Viola Enluarada is available here.
The bossa nova was conceived in Rio in the mid-'50s by a generation of highly gifted singer-songwriters who loved West Coast jazz and adapted its lyrical approach to cool off and personalize the samba. Among these Brazilian innovators were Antonio Carlos Jobim, Joao Gilberto, Luiz Bonfa, Joao Donato and Vinicius de Moraes. By the early '60s, the demand in the U.S. and Europe for new catchy bossa nova melodies began to outstrip the supply, and new Brazilian composers were sought. Enter Marcos Valle [pictured], whom I write about in today's Wall Street Journal (go here) in advance of his Birdland appearance in New York starting tonight (go here). Marcos will be joined by another Brazilian legend, vocalist Wanda Sa.
For those unfamiliar with Marcos, back in the mid-'60s he was at the forefront of a second generation of bossa nova singer- songwriters and was the new wave's most prolific writer. Over the course of his career, he has composed nearly 600 songs, many of them instantly known. His most famous is Summer Samba (So Nice), which was recorded as an instrumental by the Walter Wanderley Trio in 1966 and reached No. 26 on Billboard's Hot 100 chart.
In Part 1 of my three-part interview with Marcos, the 67-year-old bossa-nova guitarist, pianist, accordionist, singer and composer talks about growing up in Rio and composing Summer Samba (So Nice):
JazzWax: When was the last time you were in the U.S. to perform? Marcos Valle: Last May, I was a guest of Emilio Santiago at Birdland. Several weeks ago I was in Fort Lauderdale, where I received an award and tribute for my contribution to Brazilian culture and helping to export it worldwide.
JW: Did you grow up in Rio de Janeiro? MV: Yes. My family was middle-class. My father was a lawyer, and there were five of us—three boys and two girls. So it was not easy for my father to support us. We never had anything easy. But we had a comfortable life.
JW: What is the age difference between you and your brother Paulo Sergio Valle, the famous Brazilian lyricist? MV: My brother [pictured] is three years older than I am. He still writes lyrics for his songwriting partners. We also collaborate, and I try to include at least two of those songs in each album I record.
JW: What did you listen to on the radio and on records while growing up? MV: Even before I was five years old, I was interested in music. I used to listen to different kinds of popular music in Brazil. My parents had many records that I played, and I was especially attracted by Baiao, a rhythm that’s from the north of Brazil. But the traditional samba also was very important to my development. I would listen to a lot of classical music. My grandmother was a piano teacher and my mother played.
JW: When did you start playing? MV: When I was almost 5 years old. I would play melodies on the piano. So my grandmother and mother decided to take me to an important classical music teacher. She gave me a test and told them that I had talent and that I should develop it. I studied classical music on the piano for almost seven years. Later I started listening to the American big bands as well as Nat King Cole, Frank Sinatra and Sammy Davis Jr.
JW: What other instruments did you study? MV: In addition to piano, I began studying the accordion at age 12 and the guitar at age 16. I started by writing songs for girlfriends in school. I had bands, and we would play for free at parties. Then we began playing on TV shows, which caught the attention of record producers.
JW: When was the first time you heard bossa nova? MV: I was at a party with a girlfriend when someone put on a newly released record by Joao Gilberto. I was immediately enchanted by it. I thought it was so refreshing and charming. It was like magic.
JW: Why was bossa nova so upbeat and romantic in the late 50s and early 60s? MV: Brazil was very positive and optimistic at the time with President Juscelino Kubitschek in power. The economy was doing very well. So the bossa nova was part of that spirit and reflected the national feeling. It was at once simplistic and sophisticated. The basic instrument to play it was the guitar, because the instrument was easier for many young people to learn than the piano.
JW: How did you compose with your brother? MV: When I started writing songs to sell, my brother and I were still living with my parents. This allowed him to hear me playing melodies on the piano and guitar. He would try to imagine what I was trying to say with those songs. One day, my brother, who was well read and had learned a little bit of accordion, gave me a poem to see if I could write a melody for it. It was difficult, since the poem’s meter changed four times. But that only made me work hard to find a suitable melody. As a result, the song became unusual and interesting.
JW: What was the name of the song? MV:Sonho de Maria, or Maria’s Dream. Maria was a poor woman who lived in the slums and had lost everything she owned in a heavy rainstorm. After that experience, I told my brother we should work the other way around. I would write the melody first, then he would write the lyrics. And this is how we worked going forward.
JW: When did you start recording? MV: In 1963. The album, Samba Demais, was released in 1964. That year I received an award from Brazilian critics as best new singer and songwriter of the year. My brother was named best lyricist, and Eumir Deodato was best new arranger.
JW: When did you write Summer Samba? MV: In 1964, shortly after Samba Demais was released. I included it on my second album, O Compositor e O Cantor, released in 1965. I wrote the song in the bedroom that my brother and I shared at our parents’ house. I wrote it on the guitar. The melody came at once. I felt that it was a strong melody, but I never imagined it would be such an international hit.
JW: When did you realize it was special? MV: Days later I was surfing at Arpoador Beach near Ipanema when the songwriter and musician Roberto Menescal arrived in his Volkswagen. He had a guitar with him, so I asked him if I could borrow it to play him my new melody. He listened intently and told me right away that it was going to be a big success.
JW: And? MV: And he was right. The song became a hit in Brazil as an instrumental, recorded by my friend Deodato, in 1964 and then by Walter Wanderley in the U.S. in 1966.
JW: How did Summer Samba become So Nice? MV: With the success of Walter Wanderley’s instrumental version, the American publisher asked Norman Gimbel [pictured] to write lyrics for it. He did, but his translation did not follow the Portuguese lyrics. He did something different. The theme of the lyrics was So Nice, so it became known as So Nice with Summer Samba as the subtitle. Then Johnny Mathis, Connie Francis and dozens of other singers recorded it.
JazzWax tracks: Marcos Valle's first two albums were released in Brazil: Samba Demais (1964) and O Compositor e O Cantor (1965). They created a sensation, leading Antonio Carlos Jobim to become Marcos' mentor. Both albums are poetic, seductive and overwhelmingly beautiful. Both are hauntingly sensual and gentle, evocative of Rio in the early '60s. Fortunately, both are available as downloads at iTunes or here and here.
JazzWax clip: Here's Marcos on the Andy Williams Show singing his hit, Summer Samba (So Nice)...
Here's Deodato's recording of Summer Samba from 1964...
Ronnie Mathews is barely known today, but the pianist was a distinguished sideman starting in 1960 and a leader through the years. As a sideman, he appeared on Freddie Hubbard's Breaking Point (1964), Lee Morgan's Rumproller (1965) Max Roach's Drums Unlimited (1965) and Dexter Gordon's The Homecoming (1976), as well as on albums by many leading jazz stars. As a leader, one of Mathews' finest albums was—Doin' the Thang!, recorded for Prestige in December 1963.
This album is not to be confused with Horace Silver's Doin' the Thing, recorded live at the Village Gate in 1961 for Blue Note. One of the tracks on Mathews' Prestige album is called The Thang, obviously leading a less than imaginative producer to piggyback on the Silver title. In fact, Mathews and Silver had little in common stylistically. Where Silver was percussive and arch, Mathews was a graceful chord voicer and line-runner, like Sonny Clark.
So why is Doin' the Thang! so special? Five reasons...
First, Freddie Hubbard is on here, and he's absolutely stellar. Hubbard had already made a name for himself on quite a few monumental albums, including John Coltrane's The Believer, Africa/Brass and Ole, Oliver Nelson's Blues and the Abstract Truth, Dexter Gordon's Doin' Allright and Bill Evans' Interplay.
Hubbard by late 1963 also had recorded quite a few dominant leadership dates under his belt, including Open Sesame, Goin' Up, Hub Cap, Groovy!, Ready for Freddie, Hub-Tones, The Artistry of Freddie Hubbard, Here to Stay and The Body and the Soul.
On Doin' the Thang!, Hubbard is positively brilliant, bringing along the innovation and fire he was employing in Art Blakey's Jazz Messengers at the time. When this album was recorded, Hubbard was between Blakey's Ugetsu and Free for All. I'll go so far as to say that Doin' the Thang! may be Hubbard's finest little-known date. You may not have known it existed until now.
Second, the album includes little-known baritone saxophonist Charles Davis [pictured, on tenor], who recorded with Sun Ra and Dinah Washington in the late 1950s before working with Kenny Dorham, Hubbard and Silver leading up to Doin' the Thang! Davis also contributed one of the album's hard bop tunes, 1239-A. Davis is still on the scene in New York today.
Third, drummer Albert "Tootie" Heath adds enormous drive to this hard bop quintet, but without the Blakey bombast. So what you have are subtle, inventive drum figures, which leave space for you to hear Mathews. Today, Heath is still going strong, playing and recording with his brother Jimmy.
Fourth, you get to experience four of Mathews' originals—The Thang, Ichi Ban, The Orient and the effervescent Let's Get Down. Each one is devilishly melodic and complex as hard bop arrangements go.
Fifth, Mathews' treatment of Duke Ellington's Prelude to a Kiss (with the horns out) is hugely impressive. The album would be worth buying for this track alone. Mathews' risk-taking on the voicings and improvisational lines is lush and ambitious—in both 3/4 and 4/4 time. We also are able to hear bassist Eddie Khan more distinctly on this track.
Ronnie Mathews died in 2008 (his New York Timesobit is here). As Doin' the Thang! shows, he was much more than a sideman. Unfortunately, he came of age about five years too late, when jazz leadership sessions were fewer in number and the lion's share went to already established legends. He would have to wait until late in his career for that shot. Mathews, as you will hear on Doin' the Thang!, was much more than ordinary.
JazzWax tracks:Doin' the Thang! has not been reissued as a stand-alone album by Concord, which owns Prestige. But the album's tracks are here on the first half of this Prestige two-fer CD from 2002. It's paired with saxophonist Roland Alexander's Pleasure Bent (with Mathews on piano). You'll find a few Japanese imports of Doin' the Thang! at eBay (I saw one last night for $12.99).
JazzWax clip: So, how good is this album? Here's Ronnie Mathews' lead-off track, The Thang...
Here's Mathews' last performance, on May 4, 2008 at Brooklyn Hospital while being treated for pancreatic cancer. He would die about eight weeks later on June 28.
I am so grateful someone taped him here playing Barry Harris' Nascimento. Harris appears to be there in the room visiting him. The sheer poetry and spirit of this clip choked me up...
About
Marc Myers writes regularly for The Wall Street Journal and is author of "Anatomy of 55 More Songs," "Anatomy of a Song," "Rock Concert: An Oral History" and "Why Jazz Happened." Founded in 2007, JazzWax has won three Jazz Journalists Association awards.
