Dublin's dean of the jazz guitar was the late Louis Stewart. Ireland has a special place in its heart for the jazz guitar that probably has a lot to do with the music's poetry and the intimate relationship artists there seem to have with the instrument, especially on ballads. Here are a handful of Irish jazz guitarists I found while hiking the green meadows of YouTube yesterday:
Here's Louis Stewart with the Phil Ware Trio playing Four...
In March 1955, producer Ozzie Cadena was given the green light by Savoy Records owner Herman Lubinsky to record a session with drummer Kenny Clarke and arranger-saxophonist Ernie Wilkins. Cadena had a bit of an agenda. Three of the songs he wanted them to record were his own. When he met with Clarke and Wilkins, they went over the seven songs they planned to record. In addition to Cadena's three, Wilkins brought in three gems and the seventh was Now's the Time, a blues that gave Clarke an opportunity to take an extended solo. Wilkins would do the arranging.
Next, they needed musicians. Wilkins (above) called in a sterling group to fill out the ranks. The personnel featured Eddie Bert (tb), Ernie Wilkins (as,ts,arr), George Barrow (ts,bar), Cecil Payne (bar), Hank Jones (p), Wendell Marshall (b) and Kenny Clarke (d).
Interestingly, all three of Wilkins's compositions and arrangements would easily have been masterpieces for Count Basie. Wilkins had recently left Basie over the band leader's preference for and promotion of arranger Neal Hefti. Perhaps the best of Wilkins's pieces for Plenty for Kenny, the Cadena-produced album, was Cute Tomato. The soloists on the song, in order, are Eddie Bert on trombone, Cecil Payne on baritone saxophone, Ernie Wilkins on tenor saxophone, Hank Jones on piano and Wendell Marshall on bass.
Here'sCute Tomato, 11 minutes of bliss from Ernie Wilkins with a Give Me the Simple Life feel. The writing is delicious, Clarke (above) is sharp and terrific, and the solos are sublime. And we get to hear Wilkins's blowing on tenor, offering up a rich and smokey tone...
Jimmy Wilkins, the trombone-playing brother of arranger-saxophonist Ernie Wilkins and the last surviving member of Count Basie's original New Testament Band that in 1951 and and coalesced '52, died August 24. He was 97.
In recent years, Jimmy led a big band in Las Vegas using arrangements by his brother Ernie and Frank Foster. Jimmy and I spoke every six months or so. Our last conversation was in July. I'll miss him and his Count Basie stories. Here's my entire JazzWax interview with Jimmy:
JazzWax: Where were you born? Jimmy Wilkins: I was born in 1921 and raised in St. Louis. Growing up there was cool as far as I was concerned. There was a lot of jazz, and I was exposed to the music starting at age five. I started on the violin, but that didn’t work out. After a couple of years, I signed up for the beginner’s band in school. I wanted to play trumpet, but the band director couldn’t find anyone to play trombone so that fell to me.
JWx: Did you know Clark Terry? JW: Clark [pictured] and I attended rival high schools. But that didn’t stop my brother Ernie and I from scouting Clark for our school’s band. Soon we talked him into playing with the Sumner High School Swingsters. My brother was the leader and wrote and arranged for the band. Clark obliged. He was shy, but we could tell he had potential. Later, Clark and I enlisted in the Navy together.
JWx: What did your parents do? JW: My father worked as a railroad waiter. My mom took odd jobs, like running the elevator in a department store. But I didn’t grow up with my father. My parents separated when I was young. My father didn’t know how to live in a house after all that railroad riding. But when I did see him, he was very affectionate toward my brother and me. He took us to cultural events, like museum exhibits. [Pictured: Stix, Baer & Fuller Co. Department Store in St. Louis]
JWx: Did the split upset your mother? JW: My mother didn’t begrudge him. She just wanted him to contribute to the financial situation at home, and he did the best he could. My brother and I got along. Ernie was older than me by a year and 10 months and used to beat me up all the time until I retaliated [laughs]. Then we were tight ever since.
JWx: Did you and Ernie both play in the high school band? JW: We both started on violin at the same time. Ernie made progress but I didn’t. After I dropped the violin, Ernie kept going. In high school, he joined the classical orchestra. For the parade band, all of the violinists had to learn percussion or wind instruments to fill out the band. Ernie picked the saxophone. The bug got him right away, and he started neglecting the violin.
JWx: Did you enjoy the trombone? JW: I loved it. The first tune I learned was The Music Goes Round and Round. The good news for Ernie was that we had a neighbor friend named Jimmy Forrest [laughs]. He helped Ernie on the sax. Jimmy had started playing when he was 10 or 11 years old and was playing already professional gigs in high school.
JW: How did you become interested in jazz? JWs: We had a high school swing band. The teacher wasn’t great. He used to keep me after school to learn the tunes. He’d play them on the piano and write the notes. Then he had me study them. Ernie helped me learn to read. I didn’t know anything about key signatures then.
JWx: What did you do after high school? JW: In 1940 there was a guy who was recruiting musicians for the band at Wilberforce College in Ohio. He recruited my brother but didn’t know about me. My brother told him, and the guy said, “Oh, good, we need a trombonist.” In September 1940 Ernie and I went to Wilberforce on music scholarships.
JWx: Was your mother happy? JW: Oh, she was very pleased. No way in the world we would have been able to go to college if she had to pay, especially during the Depression.
JWx: How did you wind up in the Navy? JW: In 1942, on a summer break, a Navy recruiter came by the rehearsal where I was playing along with Clark and asked us if we were interested in signing up. We said we’d think about it. But when I got home from rehearsal, a big, long envelope was waiting for me from the Armed Services. The next day I went down to the recruiting office and told them I wanted to join the Navy, which everyone knew had a strong music program. About a month later we all went up to Chicago where we caught a bus to the Great Lakes Naval Training Station a short ways north of the city on Lake Michigan.
JWx: There were musicians from all over stationed there, yes? JWs Oh yes. I was on guard duty when all of the West Coast musicians arrived—Marshall Royal, Andy Anderson, Buddy Collette and others. I took them to the barracks and helped them get settled. [Pictured: Singer Marva Louis, wife of boxer Joe Louis, visiting the Great Lakes Naval Training Station during World War II]
JWx: Did you, your brother and Clark Terry stay together at Great Lakes? JW: Eventually my brother and I were shipped out to the Hampton Institute in Virginia, which was a training center for black Naval personnel. Clark stayed at Great Lakes. My brother and I learned advanced techniques for reading music, and I learned specifics about playing my horn. I had never had formal training before.
JWx: How long were you there? JW: For two years. We performed concerts and played different dances. Our commander also booked us into some country clubs to play for different organizations in the area.
JWx: Was the band good? JW: We were fair. We lacked bass players. We had a tuba player who had to learn to play the fiddle. He had an old way of playing. We rehearsed every day. One day we rehearsed classical, the next day dance band music. [Pictured: Black Naval personnel at the Hampton Institute during World War II studying electrical circuitry]
JWx: Who ran the band? JW: We had a petty officer—an old Navy man. He was in charge of the band but didn’t really know much about jazz. He’d just get out front and wave the baton around. My brother was experienced and knowledgeable about music, so when they shipped out the petty officer, they put Ernie in charge of the band. He was given the rank of Musician First Class.
JWx: Then what happened? JW: In 1945, after two years and six months in Naval school, my brother and I were set to be shipped out to Kodiak, Alaska, to play on a base there. We were shipped to the port of embarkation in the States. Then they dropped the bombs on Japan, and all transport orders froze. My brother and I had enough points for a discharge, so we left the Navy in November 1945.
JWx: When you were discharged from the Navy, what did you do? JW: I went home to St. Louis and looked for a gig. I thought I would be a welcome addition to the scene but it turned out that some of the more advanced musicians had been discharged already and had picked up those jobs. There wasn’t much work in St. Louis.
JWx: What did you do? JW: I joined Ernie Fields, a territory band out of Tulsa, Okla. At the time, Fields was playing club dates in St. Louis and needed a trombone player. My brother Ernie was already in Chicago with Eddie Mallory’s band. After I joined Fields, we headed to New York to play the Apollo Theater.
JWx: Was this your first time in New York? JW: No. I had already visited New York a few times when I was in the Navy. But I was quite excited. On our way, we played the Howard Theater in Washington, D.C., and the Royale in Baltimore. But the band was short a trombonist.
JWx: What did Fields do? JW: We picked up another one—J.J. Johnson [laughs]. I had heard a lot about J.J. [pictured], and it was just the two of us in the section. Funny thing about it—I had a featured solo on the show. I had been trying to play like Trummy Young. I liked how he played when he was with Jimmie Lunceford. On my solo, I played riffs and blew as loud as I could. When I got back to the section, J.J. said to me, “You have a nice, clear tone.”
JWx: Did Johnson have a solo? JW: Yes. It was nice and short. And he played more notes in his short solo than all of mine [laughs].
JWx: How did your brother Ernie make out with Mallory? JW: Three or four months later, Ernie wrote me to say his band needed a trombone player. Ernie recommended me to Mallory, and I left to join the band in Chicago. Soon we traveled to New York to play the Savoy Ballroom. It was hard work but fun. I didn’t know any better. I was young and enthusiastic. They always had two bands there. When we played, we were up against Lucky Millinder. Jimmy Rushing also had a band. Tiny Bradshaw, too.
JWx: Could you feel yourself improving? JW: Yes, but I regretted not spending more time learning more in the bands at the Hampton Institute while I was in the Navy. I was too busy chasing the co-eds [laughs]. Mallory’s band did well. He was tight with Joe Louis, the heavyweight boxing champion. Joe [pictured] sponsored the band. After six weeks at the Savoy, we did a week at the Apollo. After that the band folded.
JWx: Why? JW: We didn’t have enough talent in the band, mostly because Mallory wasn’t engaged. Several guys had already left to join Billy Eckstine’s band. Sonny Stitt came to audition for our band, but Mallory was on the golf course with Joe Louis and never showed up to hear him.
JWx: What did you do? JW: My brother and I went back to St. Louis and joined a local band—the Jeter-Pillars Orchestra. The band was co-led by James Jeter and Hayes Pillars. Pillars was a saxophonist and conducted. Jeter played sax in the reed section. We had some gigs lined up in St. Louis, some theater gigs and a trip to the Apollo in New York.
JWx: How did that band work out? JW: Fine, but we returned to St. Louis in 1946. That’s when I decided to go back to Wilberforce College on the G.I. Bill. When I caught one of the college band’s rehearsals, I saw Frank Foster playing alto sax. He was at Wilberforce on a scholarship. I remained at Wilberforce until 1949. It was a great education.
JWx: After school, you returned again to St. Louis? JW: Yes. But the work was slow so I took a civil service job at the Army Finance Center, where they kept all the Army records. Music just wasn’t happening for me. Gigs were slow. Everyone had money and I didn’t. I needed a backup plan.
JWx: What was the struggle? JW: I was trying to learn bebop but it was tough. Most of the jobs I landed involved playing lead trombone, with some soloing. I had a solid conception of the music, I read well and had a decent tone. But big bands were folding left and right. Ernie had been out with the Earl Hines band but he was back in St. Louis, too. I was gigging four nights a week with a small group, but Ernie’s work was slowing up.
JWx: What was the turning point? JW: One day we got a phone call at home from Clark Terry.
JWx: Who answered the phone? JW: I did. Clark said, “Don’t let me down—I need you to join the Count Basie Band.” He had tried to get me in Basie’s big band before but I was still in school at the time.
JWx: Were you sorry you didn’t join Basie when he had first asked? JW: No, not at all. The group wound up disbanding. This time Basie was putting together a big band. I was overjoyed.
JWx: What about your brother Ernie? JW: Clark said Ernie had to join, too, but as an alto player. Ernie protested. “But I’m a tenor player.” Clark said, “If you want the gig you have to play alto.” But then Clark added, “Bring your tenor, too. You can write for Basie and stick three tenors in your charts.”
JWx: What about your civil service job? JW: They were breaking up the Army Finance Center. Half was moving to Denver and the other half was going to Indianapolis. I had planned to go to Indianapolis.
JWx: Did you? JW: I quit and headed straight to New York with my brother to join Basie [laughs].
JWx: Pretty thrilling? JW: Oh yes. It was exciting to be part of that band and to get measured up for band uniforms and everything. When we arrived, Basie recognized my brother. Ernie had played with the George Hudson Band in St. Louis. Basie and Hudson were tight from Kansas City. Basie had given Hudson his older charts.
JWx: When you joined Count Basie’s band in New York in 1951, who was more excited, you or your brother Ernie? JW: Me. Ernie didn’t like playing alto saxophone at the time but that was the only chair available. Basie already had Wardell Gray and Paul Quinichette on tenors, with Charlie Fowlkes on baritone. In the other two trombone chairs were two dear friends of mine—Matthew Gee and Mitchell “Booty” Wood. They were my heroes. It was a completely new band, except for the rhythm section, which had been with Basie.
JWx: Who wrote the arrangements? JW: Neal Hefti wrote a half-dozen or so. I was delighted. Nothing was difficult and I was sight-reading. In ‘52, I ended up playing lead trombone. Booty’s wife wouldn’t let him go out on the road. So Basie added Benny Powell to take Booty’s place. Less than a year later, Henry Coker joined on trombone, and Joe Newman and Reunald Jones came in on trumpets. It was a brand new section.
JWx: The other alto sax was Marshall Royal, yes? JW: That’s right. Ernie was still fussing about playing alto. But as the band started to take off, Ernie began contributing charts along with Hefti. Nat Pierce also wrote charts, like New Basie Blues.
JWx: How were the Hefti charts? JW: They were great—songs like Why Not?, Fancy Meetin’ You and others. Hefti used to send them to us while we were on the road—but without instructions on how to play them. One time we played one of his charts without instructions at Birdland. It was called How's It? or something like that. Clark [Terry] came up with the idea to phrase it slow, so we played the song laid back.
JWx: Did Hefti hear it? JW: Yes, but he didn’t recognize it at first because it was so slow. Hefti wound up recording the song, but renamed it. I can’t remember the name. It had a more swinging tempo.
JWx: Did Basie like Ernie’s charts? JW: Very much so. But Ernie wasn’t happy. Basie would announce Hefti's songs on the radio by saying they were by Hefti. But when we played Ernie’s songs, Basie never said his name. After we left the band in ’53, Basie apparently had said that he didn’t realize what he had had in Ernie.
JWx: Who replaced you? JW: Johnny Mandel. He had come in to hear the band at Birdland a few times and brought a chart or two. Johnny said he thought I was great leading the section. Johnny's charts were great. They had a certain feel—laid back but with a good beat.
JWx: The sax section changed as well. JW: Yes, Basie went through a period of personnel problems. If you weren’t proficient or didn’t have the personality Basie was looking for, you were gone. Basie got Joe Newman and Henry Coker out of Illinois Jacquet’s band. He also brought in Frank Wess, Frank Foster and Snooky Young.
JW: Eddie “Lockjaw” Davis was in there, too. JWs: Oh yes. Lockjaw was a rompin’ player. He put all the groove he could into a tune. He loved showmanship. I would holler “Lockjaw!” He loved it. Lockjaw and I were very good friends.
JWx: Did he play with you when you started a band in Detroit? JW: Yes. After I left Basie, Lockjaw came to Detroit with the Harry “Sweets” Edison Quintet. I invited him over to our house for a barbecue. I made my own sauce, and he really snacked on those ribs. Lockjaw was a comical guy and loved to talk a lot of bull. He wasn’t as tough as he made out. He was just a nice guy who loved to be the center of things.
JWx: Why did you leave the Basie band? JW: Because the money was too short. I had an offer from my uncle to manage his restaurant in Detroit— Webster’s BBQ. It was more pay, and I could save money by being stable.
JWx: Why did he want you to manage it? JW: He wanted a relative handling the money rather than someone else. He wanted to get away on vacations, and he knew he could trust me. I managed the restaurant for a year and a half. Eventually a fire put him out of business for a couple of months. That's when I put a big band together.
JWx: What did Ernie do? JW: Ernie stayed on with the Basie band but left to stay in New York and write for Tommy Dorsey. Then he started getting commissions to write for different performers and bands. He was so busy so fast. He was always up all night writing charts. Everyone overworked him.
JWx: What did you do after the fire? JW: I had had enough. I took an exam for the Post Office. I had married in 1952, and the lack of a stable check wasn’t going to help me. I passed the test and worked for the Post Office in Detroit until 1981.
JWx: What did you do then? JW: I had been leading a band on the weekends. It was a damn good band, too. We backed up Nancy Wilson [pictured], Billy Eckstine, Lou Rawls—all hot acts. Ernie sent me charts every now and then. They sounded good. That’s what took the band over. People would say, “There’s a band in Detroit that sounds just like Basie” [laughs]. Ernie also sent me some of the charts from Here Comes the Swingin' Mr. Wilkins as well as arrangements for Sarah Vaughan in the Land of Hi-Fi. He even wrote some special charts just for me.
JWx: Did Ernie play with the band? JW: Ernie made a couple of gigs with the band. The band was excited when he came to play. They were pleased to see him. One time he had to borrow a baritone saxophone because the baritone player didn’t show up.
JWx: You also played with the Funk Brothers, the house-band that backed singers on Motown recordings. JW: Yes, but I don’t remember specifically which ones. There were so many. They’d just put arrangements in front of us, and we'd record them. I know we did records with Stevie Wonder, The Temptations, Martha and the Vandellas, Smokey Robinson and everyone else.
JWx: When did you move to Las Vegas? JW: In 1994. My wife and I moved there to get away from the winters in Detroit. They were too cold and hard. Besides, we had visited Vegas many times to see friends. After we moved out, a couple of musicians suggested I start a band with my large library of arrangements.
JWx: Did you? JW: Yes, I knew all the musicians in Vegas. I called them up and started rehearsing. I got all the baddest cats. And I had Ernie’s charts and charts that Frank Foster had sent me, including Shiny Stockings, from before Basie even recorded it.
JWx: Did you ever run into Johnny Mandel? JW: Yes, on a Jazz Cruise. I approached him and said, “Hi Johnny. Remember me?” He looked at me sort of quizzical at first. Then, as he began to realize who I was, his face warmed and he hugged me. He said, “Wow, it’s been a long time.”
JazzWax clips: Here's Jimmy Wilkins on his first recording session in May 1951, with Count Basie, just after Basie formed his new big band. The band is playing Basie's Every Tub, featuring Wardell Gray on tenor saxophone...
Here's Jimmy Wilkins with Count Basie playing Neal Hefti's Why Not? in January 1952, when Hefti began arranging for the band in earnest. Hefti was critical to the New Testament band's stretched out swinging pop sound...
And here'sCount Basie's band in July 1952 recording Ernie Wilkins's classy arrangement of There's a Small Hotel with Ernie Wilkins in the sax section and Jimmy Wilkins among the trombones. Be sure to dig the outro!...
What did the Jimmy Wilkins Big Band sound like in recent years? Here they are in Henderson, Nev., at the E-String...
On September 14, Tony Bennett and Diana Krall will release Love Is Here to Stay (Verve/Columbia), a duet album of Gershwin songs. In today's Wall Street Journal, I interview Tony and Diana separately—Tony on the art of singing a duet, and a Q&A with Diana on what it was like to record an entire album with Tony (go here and here).
I interviewed Tony several weeks ago at his art studio overlooking Central Park. Tony was dressed in a light blue sports jacket, gray slacks and sneakers. I brought along two photos—both of Tony with Rosemary Clooney in 1950, when they were in their early 20s. Both singers had just signed with Columbia records. To build advance buzz, Columbia put them on a CBS radio and TV show called Songs for Sale. Each week, they were asked to sing tunes by amateur songwriters. Then judges determined which song was best. As Tony said, "The songs weren't very good, but Rosie and I had great chemistry."
On the show, Tony sang his very first duets as a professional recording artist. That was 69 years ago. Now he's teamed with Diana. Though the pair toured together in 2000, with Diana on piano, and they recorded two songs for Tony's duet albums, Love Is Here to Stay, marks their first complete album. As Diana told me, "My goal was to be myself and let Tony be himself. You can’t step into his dream, so I just listened to him sing and enjoyed what he was doing. I tried to keep it all swinging and feeling good."
What I love most about the new album are their contrasting vocal styles. Tony's voice is brassy, sunny and hot while Diana's voice is nocturnal, reedy and cool. Both come from the jazz world and both are shrewd improvisers. All of their experience comes out on the recording. And unlike Tony's past duet albums, this one isn't a master class. Both singers are on the same page and both come to the mic with sharp ears and a deep bag of swinging vocal tricks. [Photo above of Tony Bennett and Diana Krall in August 2017 by Mark Seliger]
Also exceptional on the album is the Bill Charlap Trio. Bill's piano has never been finer. His lyrical song introductions and jazz chord voicings are magnificently tasteful. And the engaging way in which he plays with bassist Peter Washington and drummer Kenny Washington provides Tony and Diana with a cozy cushion. Which is saying something about Bill, since Diana is herself a superb jazz pianist. "At one point, Bill played a line that was pure Jimmy Rowles," she said. "I can't remember which song, but it was an inside joke between us." [Photo above, from left, Kenny Washington, Bill Charlap and Peter Washington, courtesy of Bill Charlap]
Interviewing Diana by phone while she was in Vancouver, B.C., was a lot of fun. Diana likes to dart here and there in conversation, and she has an open, emotional self-consciousness that makes her extremely engaging. My last question was probably the most personal:
MM: What does your family think about the new album? DK: I sat down at home with my husband Elvis [Costello] a week ago to listen to it for the first time. Elvis is my biggest cheerleader. We listened and both of us cried. It’s overwhelming to hear Tony’s voice sing, followed by your own. Everything he’s lived is in that voice."
Tony moves a little slower in conversation these days, but he always winds up in a fascinating place. His favorite duet partner? "Louis Armstrong." When I asked why, Tony had a one-word reply: "God."
After the interview, we all left together—Tony, me and Sylvia, Tony's long-time publicist. In the tight elevator riding down, Tony looked at me. "You make me feel comfortable whenever we talk." And just like that, Tony made my day. [Photo above By Mark Mark Seliger in August 2017]
JazzWax tracks: You'll find Tony Bennett and Diana Krall's Love Is Here to Stayhere.
JazzWax clip:Here's Tony and Diana singing Fascinating Rhythm...
And here they are singing Nice Work If You Can Get It...
Jack Costanzo, a jazz percussionist whose fierce bongo playing added drama and heat to hundreds of jazz, pop and Latin recordings, performances and TV and movie soundtracks starting in the late 1940s, died August 18. He was 98. [Photo by William P. Gottlieb in 1948]
Costanzo wasn't the first to record jazz on the bongos. The instrument first appeared on Latin 78s as early as 1925 and on Afro-Cuban recordings by Machito in 1941. He also wasn't the first to record on the bongos in the post-war era. That honor in the late 1940s belongs to a long list of superb Latin players, including Chano Pozo, Lorenzo Salan, Diego Ibarra, Ramon Rivera, Emanuel Vaharandes, Jose Mangual, Sabu Martinez, Manny Oquendo, Bill Alvarez and others.
But Costanzo, who became known as "Mr. Bongo" while in Stan Kenton's band in 1947, was the first to crossover from jazz to pop by joining the Nat King Cole Trio in 1949. As recording formats expanded from the 78 to the 10-inch LP and then the 12-inch album in the early and mid-1950s, Costanzo was increasingly in demand. [Photo above of Jack Costanzo, Fran Warren and Nat King Cole]
In addition to his spirited polyrhythmic playing on the high-pitched knee-held skins, Costanzo, who was Italian, toured with white bands without drawing racial animus so prevalent then in segregated America. And since he spoke English, looked like a movie star and was at ease on stage, Costanzo became highly marketable on an expanding number of West Coast pop recording sessions that called for Latin or dramatic percussive flavor.
Costanzo's timing was perfect. The bongo's popularity surged in the late 1940s and early '50s with the rise of Afro-Cuban jazz and the mambo. The rise of television also created opportunities for the high-strung percussion instrument, especially as flavor for TV noir scores. By the late 1950s, the bongos' popularity exploded with the rise of crime jazz and exotica, a faux Polynesian fantasy genre favored by bored suburban couples yearning for excitement beyond daily commutes and casseroles.
At the tail end of the 1950s, the bongos also grew popular with the beat generation. Easy to carry, the instrument accompanied coffee-house poetry readings and exemplified subculture moodiness, discontent and rebellion against conformity and the status quo.
In the rock era, the bongos largely faded, migrating to action TV themes such as Mission Impossible, to movie scores and to Latin-pop forms such as the boogaloo. By the late 1960s, the bongos were as dated in popular music as the clarinet had been in the 1950s.
Over the course of his career, Costanzo appeared behind virtually every major TV and recording pop star and on dozens of pop and jazz albums. He also fronted his own orchestra and recorded many excellent Latin albums that featured the cha-cha-cha. His pop recordings in the late 1950s include Googie Rene's oddity, Romesville.
Costanzo's standout jazz recordings include Stan Kenton's Malaguena (1955), Art Pepper's album Mucho Calor (1957) and Constanzo Plus Tubbs: Equation in Rhythm, featuring Tubby Hayes (1962). But his bread-and-butter albums were Latin dance records that included Mr. Bongo, Mr. Bongo Has Brass, Bongo Fever, Bongo! Cha-Cha-Cha, Naked City, Latin Fever, Vivo Tirado and Afro Can-Can.
To readthe New York Times obit of Costanzo, go here.
This week in The Wall Street Journal, I interviewed Ann Dowd for my "House Call" column in the Mansion section (go here). Ann plays the cruel and menacing Aunt Lydia on Hulu's The Handmaid's Tale. Turns out Ann had her own pseudo Aunt Lydia moment as a child while attending Catholic school in Massachusetts. [Photo courtesy of Ann Dowd and Wikipedia]
And here she is, much sweeter out of character, explaining her challenging role...
Also this week in the WSJ, my "Anatomy of a Song" column on the story behind Donna Summer's On the Radio (go here). I interviewed co-writer and producer Giorgio Moroder, arranger Harold Faltermeyer, Summer's husband Bruce Sudano, recording artist Stephen Bishop, drummer Keith Forsey and alto sax soloist Gary Herbig. Donna Summer died in 2012. Here's Summer singing On the Radio in 1980...
Count Basie. Following my post last week that featured a YouTube video clip of Steve Allen descending eagerly into New York's Birdland in 1956 to sit with Count Basie as the band wailed away on April in Paris and Blee Blop Blues, I received this email from Aurin Primack, whose father was co-owner of the club:
"Marc, great fun to see Count Basie and the club as I remember them, including doorman Peewee Marquette, who used to call me "Little Preemack." The waiter whose back of the head you see at about 5:30 into the clip was named Drayton.
"On another occasion I was at dinner with my dad at the club when I said to him that it was a shame you couldn't dance while Basie was playing. Just then, I felt a tap on my shoulder. A musician who overheard my comment stooped down and explained to me that you could find just two 'lands' on Broadway—Roseland and Birdland. He said that if you wanted to dance, go to Roseland, but Birdland was for serious listeners. Setting me straight was Miles Davis who gave my dad a wink and departed."
Once more, once...
Speaking of Basie, I received the following last week from Bruce Collier, owner of 90th Floor Records...
"Marc, early in 1960, I was at the Blue Note in Chicago with two friends to see the Count Basie Band. A cigarette girl stopped by our table with her camera. 'Picture, guys?,’ she asked. ‘Sure,’ we responded, 'if you can get Basie to join us.’ As you can see from the photo above, she did just that. Although it doesn’t look like it, we were in shock. Joe Williams sitting down with the Count didn’t hurt either. In the photo, from left, is Joe Williams, Jim Thompson, Bruce Collier, Dick Zunkle and Count Basie. Jim and I met at Arlington State in Texas (now University of Texas at Arlington); Dick and I met as seniors in high school. It was amazing to see Sonny Payne then."
Joe Alterman, who plays piano in the style of Red Garland and Ahmad Jamal, will be at New York's Jazz Standard on Sunday, September 2 at 12 p.m. He'll be joined by John Snow on bass and John Fatum on drums. Tickets can be purchased online here or by calling the club at (212) 576-2232.
Tale of the tape. Readers who loved my post on the documentary detailing the rise of the stereo system will love this one on the rise of the reel-to-reel player-recorder...
What the heck.Here's the Billy Taylor Trio with Candido on conga playing Mambo Inn...
Oddball album cover of the week.
Meet Marjorie Meinert. She began as a pop radio organist and became a recording artist in the 1950s. She died in 2009. Not sure what the vintage Popeye weights have to do with her or her talent or why they would attract buyers to purchase the album. The art director must have been a dumbbell.
In February 1964, pianist Denny Zeitlin recorded Cathexis, his first leadership album for Columbia. Denny was joined by Cecil McBee on bass and Freddie Waits on drum. The title track is a word found in psychoanalysis that means an acute amount of psychic energy directed toward a person or thing. At the time of the album's recording, Denny was studying medicine at Johns Hopkins University School of Medicine, en route to becoming a psychiatrist.
The song's spirit bears some resemblance to John Coltrane's Countdown, with Denny's fascinating chord voicings and his Bud Powell-like detours. But the song, ultimately, is pure Denny in its zest for adventure and discovery.
In May 1973, trumpeter Conte Candoli, trombonist Frank Rosolino and Tony Scott on baritone saxophone and clarinet appeared in concert at Rome's Auditorium della RAI. As I recall, it was a "homecoming" concert arranged by Scott, since all three American musicians were of Italian heritage. They were backed by Italy's RAI television orchestra. The band consisted of Candoli, Oscar Valdambrini, Cicci Santicci, Alvise Verzella, Beppe Cuccaro, Al Corden (tp); Rosolino, Dino Piana, Ennio Gabbi, Mario Midana, Ernesto Pumpo, Gennaro Marullo (tb); Scott (cl,bar); Attilio Donadio (as); Giancarlo Barigozzi, Salvatore Genovese (ts); Santino Tedone, Gianni Basso (saxes); Carlo Zoffoli (vib); Antonello Vannucchi (p); Enzo Grillini (g); Giorgio Azzolini, Giorgio Rosciglione (b) and Vincenzo "Enzo" Restuccia (d).
Here's nearly 15 minutes of their performance captured on video...
If you were lucky enough to see Count Basie live in New York in the 1950s, you probably saw him at Birdland, where his band was in residence for several months of each year. I can't even imagine how the Basie band must have sounded in that tight room, especially playing April in Paris. Fortunately for us Steve Allen did a segment on Basie and the band, and took several of his show's clunky TV cameras down there for the exciting music.
Here's Steve Allen with Count Basie and the band playing April in Paris and Blee Blop Blues in July 1956. The front line of saxes looks like, from left, Frank Wess, Bill Graham, Marshal Royal, Frank Foster and Charlie Fowlkes, with a trumpet solo by Joe Newman on April in Paris...
Today, most music is consumed on a laptop computer or a cell phone. But once upon a time, people invested in stereo systems. These typically consisted of a turntable, two speakers and a receiver. Then they sat down and stared at the speakers as a vinyl album played, often talking to each other about what they liked or didn't like while looking at the back of the album jacket.
How did the stereo system come to be and why did systems become popular in the late 1960s? Tom Fine sent along a link to the following documentary. Tom's dad was Mercury engineer C. Robert Fine and his mother was Mercury classical producer Wilma Cozart Fine, who appears in the documentary.
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.
