By the end of 1964, the saxophone's fate was pretty much sealed. For more than 30 years, the reed instrument along with the trumpet had been played by superstar jazz performers who typically led groups or were at least main soloists. But with pop-rock's arrival in the early 1960s, the Beatles' euphoric invasion in '64 and Bob Dylan's electric conversion in mid-'65, the saxophone was fast taking a backseat to the electric guitar. [Photo of Bob Dylan above from YouTube video]
Panicked, the Selmer Co. began experimenting with an electronic saxophone. The instrument known as the Varitone featured a microphone inside and pickup device outside so that normal playing technique would not have to be altered. Wires ran from the pickup to an amp, and knobs allowed the musician to control the volume and tone quality. In addition, the musician could add echo, tremolo and a synthesized tone an octave below the note played. Selmer's hope was that by electrifying the sax, jazz players would embrace it, giving the instrument sex-appeal and attracting younger audiences.
But the Varitone's sound wasn't that electric sounding nor was it anything like the electronic hookups that would be attached to trumpets in later years to make them sound like piercing guitars. Instead, the Varitone merely made the saxophone sound as if it had swallowed a kazoo.
One of the first saxophonists to record on Selmer's Varitone was Eddie Harris in March 1966 (Mean Greens for Atlantic). Hot on Harris' heels was Sonny Stitt, whose first electric sax date was What's New!!! Stitt Plays the Varitone in July '66 for Roulette. While Harris embraced the instrument and leveraged well for soul-jazz, Stitt never was fully comfortable playing it given his strong bebop roots.
Stitt used the Varitone on 13 albums between 1966 and 1971 for a range of record labels. In the years after the Varitone's appeal peaked, the instrument quickly came to be viewed by many jazz fans as a source of amusement—a silly, ill-conceived attempt to please the kids. As for Stitt's Varitone recordings, they've been dismissed, forgotten and in some cases scorned.
But not so fast. After giving most of his Varitone albums a fresh listen, I've found that many sound much more interesting than I remember them. In short, Stitt's tenor Varitone ventures have a richer, fuller tone while his also Varitonedates typically are less successful, bordering on annoying. What's more, Stitt over time found the instrument's sweet spot and used it to great effect. Here are Stitt's Varitone albums:
What's New!!!—Roulette/July 1966. Joe Wilder, Eddie Preston (tp) J.J. Johnson (tb) Sonny Stitt (el-as,el-ts) Illinois Jacquet (ts,el-ts-1) George Berg (bar) Billy Taylor (p) / Ellis Larkins (p) Wild Bill Davis (org) / Ernie Hayes (org) Mike Mainieri (vib) Les Spann (g) Jan Arnet (b) / George Duvivier (b) Walter Perkins (d). Never issued on CD.
I Keep Coming Back! Sonny Stitt on the Varitone—Roulette/1966. Clark Terry, Joe Newman (tp,flugelhornn) Urbie Green, Dickie Harris (tb) Sonny Stitt (varitone-sax) Jerry Dodgion (as) Hank Freeman (sax) SEldon Powell (ts) George Berg (bar) Ellis Larkins (p) Mike Mainieri (vib) Les Spann (g) George Duvivier (b) or Milt Hinton (b) Walter Perkins (d). Never issued on CD.
Parallel-a-Stitt: Stitt on the Varitone—Roulette/1967. Sonny Stitt (varitone) Jerome Richardson (alto-fl) George Berg (bar) Don Patterson (org) George Duvivier (b) Walter Jones (d) + others. Never issued on CD.
Made for Each Other—Delmark/July 1968. With organist Don Patterson and drummer Billy James. Solid soulful organ trio date with the sound of the Varitone playing smartly up against the Hammond B-3. You'll find Made for Each Other here.
Soul Electricity—Prestige/Sept. 1968. Sonny Stitt (varitone as,ts) Don Patterson (org) Billy Butler (g) Billy James (d). Superb date. Among the best in the series. Tracks 7-14 make up Soul Electricity on the CD Legends of Acid Jazz: Sonny Stitt/Don Patterson Vol. 2.
Little Green Apples—Solid State/Oct. 1968. Joseph De Angelis, Don Corrado (fhr) Sonny Stitt (varitone as) Haywood Henry (bar) Paul Griffin (p) Eric Gale (g) Bob Bushnell (el-b) Joe Marshall (d) Jimmy Mundy (arr,cond). Never issued on CD.
Come Hither—Solid State/1968. Joseph De Angelis, Don Corrado (fhr) Sonny Stitt (varitone as) Jerome Richardson (bar) Paul Griffin (p,org) Billy Butler (g) Bob Bushnell (el-b) Joe Marshall (d) Jimmy Mundy (arr). Never issued on CD, but probably among the worst in the Varitone series.
Brothers 4—Prestige/Sept. 1969. Sonny Stitt (ts,varitone sax) Don Patterson (org) Grant Green (g) Billy James (d). This was a Patterson date with plenty of Stitt cooking. You'll find Brothers 4 here, which includes Donnybrook, an album with tracks recorded at the same session.
Night Letter—Prestige/Oct. 1969. Sonny Stitt (varitone) Gene Ludwig (org) Pat Martino (g) Randy Gelispie (d). A more soulful date, particularly on the gorgeous ballads When It's Sleepy Time Down South and Pretend. Night Letter is available on the two-fer CD Night Letter/Soul Shack (tracks 7-12).
Turn It On!—Prestige/Jan. 1971. Virgil Jones (tp) Sonny Stitt (el-ts) Leon Spencer, Jr. (org) Melvin Sparks (g) Idris Muhammad (d). A mix of funky-soul tracks, ballads and two standards (Cry Me a River and There Are Such Things). Turn It On! is part of the two-fer CD Sonny Stitt: Legends of Acid Jazz(tracks 1-5). The other half is Black Vibrations (see below).
You Talk That Talk!—Prestige/Feb. 1971. Gene Ammons/Sonny Stitt : Gene Ammons (ts) Sonny Stitt (ts,el-sax) Leon Spencer, Jr. (org) George Freeman (g) Idris Muhammad (d). A killer album and one of the finest that Sonny recorded in the '70s. Includes boastful soul-jazz blues as well as a big ballad each for Stitt (Body and Soul) and Ammons (The Sun Died). You'll find You Talk That Talk! as part of the CD Gene Ammons: Legends of Acid Jazz (tracks 7-12).
Just the Way It Was: Live at the Left Bank—Label M/March 1971. Sonny Stitt (sax) Don Patterson (org) Billy James (d). A sizzlingly successful date at the Famous Ballroom at the Left Bank Jazz Society in Baltimore. You'll find Just the Way It Was on Sonny Stitt: Live and Rare Sessions(Deuces Wild, Samba de Orpheus, Who Can I Turn To?, Cry Me a River, The Shadow of Your Smile and Blues Up and Down).
Black Vibrations—Prestige/July 1971. Virgil Jones (tp) Sonny Stitt (el-ts) Leon Spencer, Jr. (org) Melvin Sparks (g) Idris Muhammad (d). A beautifully paced soul-jazz album, particularly Goin' to DC, Aires and Where Is Love. A fitting, sensual exit from the Varitone for Stitt. You'll find Black Vibrations on Sonny Stitt: Legends of Acid Jazz (tracks 6-11).
Bob Brookmeyer, whose emotionally strained youth in Kansas City helped him become arguably the most soulful, peppery and lyrical valve trombonist of the 1950s and '60s, died December 15 in New Hampshire. He was 81.
In the 1950s, there certainly was no shortage of great trombonists—J.J. Johnson, Kai Winding, Urbie Green, Carl Fontana, Frank Rosolino, Curtis Fuller and many others. But Bob was different for several reasons:
For one, Bob played valve trombone, on which a player must use valves instead of a slide to change notes. The resulting sound combined the regal tones of a French horn with the unmistakable insistent sass of a slide trombone. For another, Bob adored harmony and counterpoint, making him the perfect collaborator in the cooler jazz combos emerging on the East and West coasts in the early '50s.
In all, Bob recorded on more than 370 jazz recording sessions, according to Tom Lord's Jazz Discography. His first recording dates were with bandleader Tex Beneke in 1952, but he quickly became a highly respected musical voice in small groups that soared to prominence during the early LP era.
The speed with which Bob rose to jazz fame remains remarkable. In 1954 alone, he recorded as a member of the Gerry Mulligan Quartet, the Chet Baker Sextet and the Stan Getz Quintet as well as the leader on his own quartet date. In 1955, there were recording sessions with Al Cohn, Manny Albam, Zoot Sims and other prolific and influential artists.
By 1956, Bob was firmly established on both coasts as the perfect foil to saxophonists looking for a sound that was richer than a trumpet but punchier than a slide trombone. Bob also had the ability to swing eager on uptempo tunes while reaching into his past for deep soul on ballads.
Bob told me during my June 2009 interview that much of his early passion for music came out of necessity:
"I wasn’t a delighted child, that’s for sure. Grade school was a nightmare for me. There were bad teachers and bad kids. I was an only child and rather antisocial, so I was bullied quite a bit. My folks were loving, but it was hard to get over the nightmare I’d face at school each day. You couldn’t escape it. I’d walk into the gym and someone standing there would hit me in the stomach as hard as he could. Or some giant of a kid would come up to me while I was eating lunch and tell me to meet him after school to fight. It was awful."
For years, the story of how Bob came to play the valve trombone wound up being exaggerated—insinuating that he mastered the instrument's technique magically while in Claude Thornhill’s band:
"Yeah, right, I just walked into Thornhill’s band, picked up the valve-trombone and started to play it [laughs]. The truth is I started playing the instrument when I was 13. I didn’t want to play slide trombone, so I found some old baritone horn in the band room and learned to play the valves. Then friends gave me an old Czechoslovakian valve-trombone. I learned to play the instrument by watching trumpet players.
When I asked Bob why he didn’t favor the slide trombone, his reply was classic:
"Who likes the slide trombone? Sax players got all the girls because they were seated in the front row. Trumpeters got all the money because they were driving the band from the back row. Trombones sit in the middle and develop an interior life [laughs]. Trombonists didn’t get the money or the girls."
Bob also was a terrific composer, arranger, conductor and pianist. Perhaps his best-known album on piano was The Ivory Hunters in 1959 with Bill Evans. From my 2009 interview:
BB: "The album was Jack Lewis’ idea. Jack was an eccentric producer at United Artists who had interesting ideas. It was supposed to be a quartet date, or at least I thought it was. I showed up at the studio with my horn. But when I walked into the studio, I saw two pianos pushing together, facing each other. Jack had heard Bill and me do a four-hand thing at an earlier United Artists record date and wanted to try it out for the record.
JW: What went through your mind when you saw the pianos? BB: I knew Bill well. We had spent a lot of time together socially, so we were close. Bill had invited my wife then and I for Thanksgiving one year and played for us. So for Bill and me, it was just two friends who got dumped into a crazy idea. We looked at each other when Jack told us what he had in mind, and we said, “Hey, why not?”
JW: How did it work? BB: We sat down and played I Got Rhythm, and it sounded pretty good so we kept going. There was no advanced planning, no playlist. We just walked in that day, and [drummer] Connie Kay and [bassist] Percy Heath were waiting for us.
JW: What did Bill think? BB: Toward the end of his life, Bill told me it was one of the greatest things he had done. At the session, I just tried to hang on. We both had a good time doing it, and I did my best to make up for my lack of technique compared to Bill’s [laughs]. I played behind him most of the way, and he played a bit behind me
What I'll remember most about Bob was his speaking voice and his kindness. His voice was similar in ways to his valve trombone playing. Thoughts came out directly and bluntly, but there was this warm sound to his voice and a slurring of words for speed that resulted from a lifetime of depressing valves to bend notes.
Bob also was noted for his stark humility. As he said just as we were ending our conversation:
"I'm just lucky I was hired by Duke Ellington and that Count Basie asked me when I was going to write something for him when we saw each other at Birdland. I mean these are the things I treasure. To be even asked to do something by my superiors, was really nice.
"You asked me how I felt about myself. I joke with [my wife] Jan, 'You realize, of course, that you're living with a jazz legend.' And we both laugh."
Of course, Bob was much more than a valve trombonist or a pianist. He was an orchestral composer and arranger as well as a conductor, a subject he discussed in depth during our conversation.
In June, I reached out to Bob. Curious about the origin of his song, Oh, Jane Snavely, which he first recorded with Stan Getz in 1954, Back came a simple email: "Fictional person -- bb."
I'm going to miss Bob's edge.
JazzWax tracks: Here's a handful of terrific Bob Brookmeyer recordings:
Interpretations (1952) with Stan Getz
Plays Bob Brookmeyer and Some Others (1955)
Dual Roles of Bob Brookmeyer (1955) with Teddy Charles
Pleyel Concert in Paris (1955) with Gerry Mulligan
Tonite's Music Today (1956) with Zoot Sims
Jimmy Raney, Featuring Bob Brookmeyer (1956)
Traditionalism Revisited (1957)
Gloomy Sunday (1961)
Samba Para Dos (1963) with Lalo Schifrin
Bob Brookmeyer & Friends (1964)
Tonight (1964) with Clark Terry
One Night in Vermont (2001)
Note: Most of Bob's studio recordings with Stan Getz in 1952-53 are on the newly issued and remastered Stan Getz Quintets: The Clef & Norgran Albumsbox (Verve) available at Amazon.
Robert Altman. In my Bobby Troup post last Wednesday, I posted a video clip of a Robert Altman-directed short of Troup singing Girl Talk. Director Raymond De Felitta picked up the trail in his blog Movies til Dawn and posts about Altman's shorts.
CD discovery of the week. One more for the holidays—Bonnie Bowden's An Angel City Christmas, featuring the Angel City Big Band, a West Coast orchestra. The album features Bonnie warmly singing Have Yourself A Merry Little Christmas, Let It Snow and I've Got My Love to Keep Me Warm among others. Two instrumental charts of note: O Holy Night by Ralph Carmichael and a swinging I'll Be Home for Christmas by Gregory Yasnitsky. Straightforward, uptempo holiday charmers sweetened by Bonnie's pop touch. More on Bonnie Bowden at her site. You'll find this one at Amazon.
Oddball album cover of the week. Al "Jazzbo" Collins was a New York jazz radio personality in the '50s and beyond who had an unrivaled ability to make late-night radio listeners in darkened bedrooms believe they were sitting with him in his make-believe purple grotto of a studio. On this cover, however, it seems as though we're getting a view through Collins' head rather than from it.
At the time of Amy Winehouse's death on July 23, the celebrated soul-ska singer hadn't really released much in the way of music. Though Frank was recorded in 2003, the album wasn't released in the U.S. until late 2007—after her second album, Back to Black, became an American sensation in 2006, winning her five Grammys. As Burt Bacharach noted a bunch of weeks ago during my at-home conversation with him, "Most people don't realize that it's still hard for many new British artists to release albums here."
Instead, Winehouse found fame in the U.S. as a YouTube penny dreadful. There were dozens of video clips of her as teen on British TV with big bands, club appearances as a rising star, and slick videos for songs that weren't yet on CD. After her success, these clips were followed by darker ones showing her running from photographers, being busted for drug possession, coping with an abusive marriage, and finally making groggy concert appearances.
Now it turns out that Winehouse had been busy for years recording all kinds of high-test material. On the newly released Lioness: Hidden Treasures (Universal Republic), we hear recordings of Winehouse over a nine-year period singing originals, covers and alternate versions of hits in her meowing, Ronnie Spector-like style.
Some of the material on the 12-track Lioness has been in the can for years. Other tracks were on the flight deck in preparation for her next album. Taken as a whole, Lioness is eclectic, sassy and ultimately haunting given her untimely passing. Much credit goes to her long-time producers Salaam Remi [pictured] and Mark Ronson, who cobbled together the album after listening to folder after folder of in-house recordings.
Lioness opens with a ska version of Our Day Will Comefrom 2002, when Winehouse was fresh and ambitious. It's a humid interpretation of Ruby and the Romantics' [pictured] bossa nova version from 1963. The reggae beat gives Winehouse plenty of space to work her London drawl, and she applies emotion strategically to the cover while still managing to honor Ruby Nash's original lead vocal.
Between the Cheats is a bump and grinder from 2008 that was planned for her third album. A friend today called the more recent tracks like this one Amy in Satin—a witty reference to Billie Holiday's Lady in Satin album, on which the singer was clearly ailing but still pulled off a masterpiece. I don't know that I'd go that far, since Winehouse isn't struggling but creating and reassembling on the fly.
Winehouse's Tears Dry on Their Own, a Valerie Simpson song, is a soul-ballad version of her more up-tempo rendition from Back to Black. I actually like the song more here, since her delivery isn't rushed and the slower pace gives her time to innovate and improvise.
Valerie, one of the album's many high points, is given a slow, techno-gospel treatment. The song originally was written and recorded by the Zutons in 2006, and Winehouse's first recording of the song turned up on Back to Black: B Sides. On this rendition, the backup vocalists are gone. There's still pointed urgency and attitude, but the approach is much more serious and mature.
In 2002, when Winehouse was 18, she traveled to Miami to record with producer Remi. There, she took on The Girl From Ipanema. What you hear is the birth of an enormous talent as Winehouse gives the song a loosey-goosey, swing-scat treatment. You also hear that Winehouse knew her stuff, since she playfully stays within the song's pop parameter but finds a variety of creative ways to make it her own. Think Cindy Lauper [pictured] meets Astrud Gilberto.
Body and Soul from Tony Bennett's Duets II is here, as is a pained cover of Leon Russell's A Song for You.
After you listen to Lioness a few times, you come to realize that Winehouse's passing was even more tragic than we thought. Her potential clearly was enormous, and from a jazz listener's standpoint, she was in the process of creating a more progressive and belligerent style of jazz singing. By any measure, her loss is staggering and a setback for music. The good news, if there is any good news, is that there seems to be plenty of superb material yet to come.
Trumpeter Dick Collins had a gorgeous sound in the '50s. Like trumpeters Don Fagerquist and Doug Mettome, Dick had a lyrical quality to his playing that was part brass, part vocalist. Dick's note choices on solos often roamed in just the right places, punctuating distinctly as he ran up and down chords. And Dick always managed to end his solos exactly where you'd hope he would.
Much of Dick's playing hours were spent in the bands of Woody Herman and Les Brown, leaving him little down time. Fortunately he did record two albums as a leader—Horn of Plenty and King Richard the Swing Hearted. Both were cut in 1954 for RCA, both featured the well-oiled arrangements of Al Cohn [pictured] and Nat Pierce, and both featured mostly Hermanites.
As you can imagine, these albums are enormously tasteful. They also were among the last dates that many of the featured musicians made on the East Coast before relocating to Los Angeles and the Hollywood studio scene. I wrote about both albums when I interviewed Dick back in June 2010.
So what's the point? A treat. I found both rare albums hidden on one iTunes download for—are you ready for this?—$5.99. The album is called Dick Collins & His Orchestra: Essential Jazz Masters. If you download it (and I hope you do, because they're about the prettiest things), just rearrange the tracks in the following order:
Horn Of Plenty (RCA): Dick Collins (tp), Med Flory (as), Al Cohn, Dick Hafer (ts), Bill Perkins (ts,fl), Jack Nimitz (bar), Nat Pierce (p), Red Kelly (b) and Chuck Flores (d). Recorded in New York on May 22 and 23, 1954.
I'd know you anywhere
Angel eyes
Tricky dicky
Stairway to the stars
Very shifty
Just as you are
The long night
What a little moonlight can do
My one and only love
No soap
Why was I born?
Please don't talk about me when I'm gone
King Richard, The Swing Hearted (RCA): Dick Collins, Al Porcino (tp), Charlie Walp (tp) or John Howell (tp), Billy Byers, Sonny Russo (tb), Dick Meldonian (as), Al Cohn (ts,arr), Richie Kamuca, Bill Perkins (ts), Jack Nimitz (bar), Nat Pierce (p,arr), Herb Ellis (g), Red Kelly (b) and Chuck Flores (d). Recorded in New York on November 27 & 28, 1954
Strike up the band
The winter of my discontent
Hold me, hold me, hold me
As long as I live
It's love
They can't take that away from me
Donna mia
Northern comfort
JazzWax clip: Here's Dick Collins with John Howell, Al Porcino and Charlie Walpon on trumpets on another pretty album,Tjader Plays Mambo, which was recorded in 1954 between Dick's two leadership dates...
Lost in the shuffle earlier this fall between Amy Winehouse's death and the media blitz for Tony Bennett's Duets II was news that Sony was planning to release a sizable Bennett box set. Out now is Tony Bennett: The Complete Collection (Sony)—an aircraft carrier of a set that includes everything Bennett ever recorded in a studio, remastered. That's right, the mother lode, the works, the whole enchilada. And some.
For this sweeping, all-encompassing project, Sony managed to forge a deal that gave it access to every label on which Bennett ever recorded. This is on top of its own massive Columbia archives in the Sony vault (1950-1972 and 1986 to the present). How extensive is this box? Well, it clocks in at 74 discs, 1,056 tracks or 2.2 days' worth of listening (48+ hours of straight music). That's roughly how long it would take you to fly around the planet on a nonstop commercial jet.
While this box isn't for everyone, it remains a remarkable document and timeline. First, you wind up with Bennett's complete catalog in one iTunes folder. Second, you are able to listen to his entire studio career in chronological order. Third, you can hear how his style changed multiple times over the years, and where the turning points exist. Fourth, you hear music interpreted differently over time. And last, you can hear what holds up and what doesn't. I actually was surprised by how much remains sterling and remarkably relevant and exciting today, including chunks of his early '50s material.
For those not in the know, Bennett's professional singing career dates back to the late '40s, when New York was awash in spectacular, hungry singers performing at clubs and hustling for a break. Bennett was a born optimist and a skilled politician, as baritone saxophonist Sol Schlinger told me a few weeks ago:
"I can remember Tony in the late '40s at Charlie’s Tavern. He used to come by and talk to everyone. At the time, he used the name Joe Bari. He’d go from table to table to get with the guys. Nobody minded him crashing in. He had such an upbeat, sunny personality. At that point, he was just a singer from Queens. By the time he signed with Columbia, he had come up through the ranks of many of the jazz musicians on the scene."
Signed by Columbia's Mitch Miller after a few good words from comedian Bob Hope, Tony Bennett's first studio singles for Columbia were recorded in March 1950. Miller insisted Bennett avoid trying to sound like Frank Sinatra, who was still signed to the label. Instead, Bennett seemed to combine the delivery of Frankie Laine and Dinah Washington. In Bennett's early sides for Columbia, you hear Laine's popular "crying" style leveraged with bel canto phrasing and Washington's searing jukebox delivery. It was a shrewd move by Bennett, though there also seemed to be a push at Columbia to have him record some songs in Italian to retain his ethnic appeal and distinguish him from the more assimilated Sinatra.
Throughout the early '50s, Bennett recorded many outstanding and little-known singles that appear in this box. The list includes Once There Lived a Fool, I Won't Cry Anymore, Please My Love and Silly Dreamer. There also were quite a few lousy songs that were done way over the top. But in nearly every case, Bennett was cast as a passionate, sensitive male singer. His image as the boy from the next tenament connected solidly with urban female radio-listeners and record buyers, especially given each song's dramatic, orchestral send-up.
By 1954, when Bennett recorded Cloud 7, his first album, there was a Columbia push to cast him as a jazz singer. This move continued through Tony (1956) and Every Beat of My Heart (1957), which placed him with jazz drummers Art Blakey, Jo Jones and Chico Hamilton as well as Candido Camero and other Latin percussionists. Bennett also was one of the first pop singers to team with Count Basie in 1958 (Basie/Bennett) and '59 (In Person!).
But Bennett's potential exceeded the jazz idiom. Besides, his voice wasn't especially comfortable in the space. It was too upbeat and not troubled enough. Like Nat Cole, Bennett had impeccable time and phrasing that appealed to both jazz and pop audiences. So Columbia began to swing him back and forth between genres, from intimate jazzy settings (Alone Together, Sings for Two, Hometown My Town) to saccharine dates with strings and choirs for the pop market. The latter was neatly exploited by Columbia House, the label's record club arm (Sings a String of Harold Arlen, To My Wonderful One).
Throughout this period, Bennett's voice was working way too hard. He was belting out songs as if his room and board depended on it. He clearly was trying to navigate Columbia's a&r heads who claimed to know best as well as manage a series of dates with soupy arrangements.
One of the early turning points for Bennett on Columbia was Mr. Broadway, a 1962 release that was a compilation of earlier tracks plus a batch of recordings made in 1960. It was something of a test case to see how Bennett fared with show tunes. The marriage was a natural fit, and Bennett began to record songs from shows that were just opening. It's hard to imagine another singer who took on musicals and movies as smoothly and elegantly as Bennett.
But the big turning point was I Left My Heart in San Francisco, released in mid-1962. Yes, the single was a massive hit. But it's here where Bennett begins to restrain his power a bit and learns to relax. Bennett either gains control of the production process at Columbia or the label's a&r staff finally realized his sweet spot.
San Francisco begins Bennett's truly great period for Columbia, when he becomes the intimate sentimentalist. Just look at the monumental albums that followed: When Lights Are Low, Who Can I Turn To, Songs for the Jet Set, The Movie Song Album, A Time for Love, Tony Makes It Happen, For Once in My Life, Yesterday I Heard the Rain, I've Gotta Be Me, Sings the Greatest Hits of Today, Something, Love Story, Summer of '42 and With Love—his last for Columbia. Sunrise, Sunset, a compilation of earlier material, was issued in '73.
These 15 albums are superlative and among the finest and most tasteful pop vocals ever recorded. And much praise is due arrangers Marty Manning, Ralph Burns, Johnny Mandel, George Siravo, Don Costa, Marion Evans, Torrie Zito, Peter Matz and Robert Farnon.
And I think this is where I'm going to leave this box today. To be fair, I need to give the next four decades' worth of recordings an in-depth listen and consideration.
As the storyline of this box demonstrates, Bennett began on a search to find himself artistically in 1950, had no choice but to leave himself in the hands of studio pros, shook off older record company hands in 1961, producing 10 years of music that remains unrivaled. The next 40 years would be yet another adventure, with creative ups and downs. I'll be back to you as soon as I've given all of these dates repeated listens.
JazzWax tracks: If you're in the mood to give yourself a holiday present, this one is a swell candidate. A number of the albums have been out of print for years. You'll find Tony Bennett: The Complete Collection (Sony) only at Barnes & Noble for now. The book chain managed to secure an exclusive distribution deal with Sony. The box features two CDs of rarities, including five tracks with Stan Getz from 1964. There also are four discs of Columbia singles.
JazzWax clips: Here's Torrie Zito's masterful arrangement of the Gershwins' Hi-Ho from Yesterday I Heard the Rain (1968)...
Here's Larry Wilcox's arrangement of Maybe September, the theme from The Oscar, from The Movie Song Album (1966)...
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.
