Speed set Bill De Arango apart. When he arrived in New York from Cleveland in 1944, he fit in almost immediately on 52nd Street. In 1945, when World War II ended and bebop began nudging swing aside, De Arango was perfectly positioned. A terrifyingly fast player, he was among the few guitarists at the time who could keep up with horn players and pianists playing the new music. Influenced by the staccato attack of trumpeter Roy Eldridge and guitarists Django Reinhardt and Charlie Christian, De Arango for some reason didn't record much as a leader. His only early leadership album was a 1954 10-inch LP for EmArcy entitled De Arango.
Born in Cleveland in 1921, De Arango attended Ohio State University and played locally from 1939 to 1942. He then joined the Army soon after the Pearl Harbor attack and America's entry into the war. Discharged in 1944, De Arango found that the music and musicians he listened to most were dismissed by musicians he knew in Cleveland. So De Arango set off looking for musical colleagues with more sophisticated taste. [Photo above of Bill De Arango, Terry Gibbs and Harry Biss in New York in 1947 at the Three Deuces by William P. Gottlieb]
As De Arango told Mark Gardner in a 1971 interview in Jazz Journal, "I met some guys who were playing in clubs. They'd let me come in and sit in with them and they'd teach me sounds. These were black musicians and they were just beautiful because they allowed me to grow musically. I learned quickly—because of them really."
De Arango moved to New York in '44 at the suggestion of friends who lived and worked there. As De Arngo told Gardner: "When I got to New York, I went down to 52nd Street and when I heard them I thought I ought to go home. It was really a shock. I was introduced to some people down there and I sat in with Don Byas. He had that speed then. We played something like Sweet Georgia Brown at a real crazy tempo. Ben Webster (above) was in the room, and when we finished the set he asked me if I'd like to go to work with him; he was across the street at the Onyx. It was one of those things—it happened quickly. This was at the end of 1944."
Though De Arango didn't play in Dizzy Gillespie's working groups, he did record with the trumpeter in 1945 on three songs with Sarah Vaughan and Charlie Parker. He also recorded with Gillespie on an RCA session in February 1946 that included 52nd Street Theme, A Night in Tunisia,, Ol' Man Rebop and Anthropology. Recording dates followed with Slam Stewart, Ike Quebec, Erroll Garner, Eddie "Lockjaw" Davis, Ben Webster and Charlie Ventura. In 1948, he returned to Cleveland to study composition and play locally. In the early 1950s, De Arango grew tired of playing Cleveland strip clubs and returned to New York with the advent of the long-playing record.
In May 1954, De Arango recorded a leadership album for EmArcy, backed by Johnny Williams (p), Teddy Kotick (b) and Art Mardigan (d). As a guitarist, De Arango had a relatively dry tone. Unlike other players, who let notes ring warmly and wound up with much of the work, De Arango preferred a bird-like picking style that made notes sound like a flurry of darts. His guitar runs came across more like trumpet or mandolin solos. This is evident on the brisk Gone With the Wind and halting The Song Is You. Both are superb examples of a technique that made De Arango special. As for his improvisation, De Arango liked density and mystery. On All God's Chillun Got Rhythm, we never hear the song's written melody. Instead, De Arango invents a new melody on the chord changes.
Other than two leadership 78-rpm sessions in the mid-1940s that yielded eight songs, De Arango recorded only two albums—De Arango (1954) and Anything Went (1993), a more abstract free-jazz effort. Fed up with touring, shifting tastes and the pressures of recording, De Arango opened a music store in Cleveland in the late 1960s.
Bill De Arango died in 2005.
JazzWax note: To read Mark Gardner's 1971 interview of Bill De Arango in Jazz Journal (using Harvey Pekar's questions), go here. De Arango's discography is here. And a De Arango tribute site is here.
JazzWax tracks: You'll find Bill De Arango's De Arango (EmArcy) on a terrific album from Fresh Sound that also includes 10-inch albums by guitarists Lou Mecca and Chuck Wayne. The album is 3 Swinging Guitar Sessionshere.
The other day I was combing YouTube in search of a couple of videos when I came across these delightful new jazz clips uploaded in recent weeks and months:
Here's Sarah Vaughan singing East of the Sun in 1981, with Andy Simpkins on bass...
Here's pianist McCoy Tyner with Freddie Hubbard and Joe Henderson playing Just Feeling...
Here's Sonny Rollins playing Don't Stop the Carnival in Copenhagen in 1985...
Here's a lovely guitarist playing Autumn in New York...
And here's the Lanterns Acoustic Duo, with the female vocalist singing Baby You've Got What It Takes...
Bonus:Here's Canadian vocalist Vanda King singing What Did I Have That I Don't Have. She wasn't Eydie Gormé but she did a pretty swell job. In fact, King had a beautiful voice. This clip isn't newly posted but it's still worth seeing. Apologies for the idiot (or idiots) in the audience who felt that an unnerving wolf whistle was how female singers like to be greeted at the start of a TV performance...
In the winter of 1972, pianist Bill Evans was on tour in Europe. During a publicity stop at a Paris TV studio prior to his concert at the Maison de la Radio on February 6, Evans, bassist Eddie Gomez and drummer Marty Morell performed Cole Porter's I Love You. Interestingly, Evans's discography shows he hadn't recorded the standard since a Village Vanguard gig in 1966 with Gomez and drummer Arnie Wise.
The program was a weekly sports show on French public television hosted by Michel Drucker, a popular TV journalist and producer. Each week, the program had a musical interlude. What's strange is that most of the guests at one end of the table in the next room seem to be watching the trio on wall monitors rather than simply turning their chairs around. Popular singer-guitarist Sacha Distel is at the center of the table facing Evans and keeping time on the arm of his chair.
Here's the Bill Evans Trio in a video that just went up Oct. 31...
A special thanks to pianist Dave Thompson and Axel Van Looy.
In the years before World War II, musicians didn't get near a recording studio unless they could produce perfect results. Three major companies dominated the record industry then—Columbia, RCA and Decca—and they weren't big on wasting time or money. Errors were costly in the pre-tape era. Music then was recorded onto lacquer discs before metal impressions were made and then plunged into chemical baths to solidify the sound. Retakes were labor-intensive. What's more, you didn't last long as a recording artist unless you started young and worked relentlessly to develop an audience. In 1936, Nat King Cole was all about perfection. And he was only 17.
As we can hear on Nat King Cole: Hittin' the Ramp, the Early Years 1936-1943, a new seven-CD box set from Resonance, Cole had a fresh interpretation of swing and pop early on as a piano player, composer and singer. What likely will surprise many listeners is how far back Cole's recording history goes and how much recording experience he had under his belt before Capitol signed him in the fall of 1943. This hefty box features all of his pre-Capitol recordings, including his Decca dates and radio transcriptions.
Born in Alabama, Cole along with his three brothers—Eddie, Ike and Freddie—were taught there was only one way out of poverty for most black Americans then: the entertainment industry. In search of a better-paying job and refuge from the threat of racial terrorism down South, the Cole family moved north to Chicago in 1923 when Nat was 4. Nat learned to play piano from his church-organist mother, and singing came naturally to him.
As a teenager in Chicago, Cole gravitated to Louis Armstrong and Earl "Fatha" Hines, which makes sense. Both musicians were among the era's most spectacular and successful black jazz artists, and Cole was a hybrid of both Armstrong's please-'em pop and Hines's dashing keyboard style. And like Armstrong and Hines, Cole's delivery was inviting and easy to enjoy. This was especially critical during the Depression, when there was a vast market for highly optimistic recording artists who could buck up the down-and-outs, regardless of race.
As a result, the material on the Cole box's 1930s period is awash in pop novelty numbers flecked with jazz piano, guitar and bass. In some ways, it's impossible to fully understand this music today without knowledge of the stark poverty and hopelessness of the period. Record companies cranked out this stuff because that's what dancers and jukebox listeners wanted to hear.
When the Cole box inches toward the war years in 1940 and '41, the music sheds its jumpin'-jive tedium and we hear Cole's sensitivity and sparkling swing piano. This is when the box becomes more interesting. For example, Off the Beam (1940), the set's first turning point, shows off the King Cole Trio's sleek and inventive jazz chops. At the start of the 1940s, as the country grew increasingly troubled by news from abroad and anxious about America's inevitable involvement, Cole's music began to drop its rah-dah-dah vocals and focused instead on pianistic flourishes. We also hear Cole's voice grow more serious on songs such as Nothing Ever Happens and You Send Me (both 1940).
Another turning point on the set is I'm Lost, a 1943 Excelsior recording, which provides us with a preview of Cole's Capitol output. We also have Beautiful Moons Ago and My Lips Remember Your Kisses, also recorded for Excelsior in 1943. Here, Cole's vocals are meant to put the country at ease. Important to remember during this period is that Frank Sinatra had become a solo act and the country's best-selling pop recording artist. As a solo, he was transforming the very definition of the male vocalist, shifting from the earnest, full-throated approach to a more sensual and relaxed conversational style. Cole knew success when he heard it, so he moved to a more soothing style as well to remain in the game.
Interestingly, Cole didn't evolve over these eight years. The country did, and Cole thrived by adjusting his talents. And because he was such an intuitive pop artist in touch with mass-market tastes, he adjusted several times along the way. The set's 183 tracks not only show off Cole's gifts but also confirm how dull he could be. Many of the vast number of 1930s tracks are painfully alike, as if stamped out in a factory. Even his hallmark thrown-dice piano introductions begin to grate. [Photo above of Nat King Cole with his mother, Perlina, his younger brother, Ike, and his father, Edward, circa 1940]
But if you listen to these songs as three-minute impressions of the public's mood, the music becomes a reflection of the national sentiment. More remarkably, Cole's modernist swing and jumpin' jive set the tone for many artists who followed, including Charlie Parker, George Shearing, Louis Jordan and Les Paul and Mary Ford. By 1945, Cole's approach was in the creative bloodstream.
As we hear in this new box, Cole's pre-war cool had a fascinating evolution and influence. He was responsible for recording music that helped the country through several difficult periods. He's clearly the father of vocal R&B. And he's the first modern black artist to cross over to the mass market, where he began to chip away at the color barrier. This monumental box holds the music that modernized swing and inspired post-war jazz, R&B and pop. That alone makes it worthy. [Photo above of Frank Sinatra and Nat King Cole in 1946]
JazzWax tracks: You'll find Nat King Cole: Hittin' the Ramp, the Early Years 1936-1943 (Resonance) here.
In The Wall Street Journal this week, I interviewed choreographer and dancer Twyla Tharp for my "House Call" column in the Mansion section (go here). I've long been a fan of Twyla and how she has used the music of pop icons such as Frank Sinatra and the Beach Boys as the basis for her sensual, emotional work. Twyla grew up in California working hard at her parents' drive-in movie theater where she learned a few lessons about dance from MGM musicals and why it's essential not to bore audiences. [Photo of Twyla Tharp in the dance studio of her Manhattan penthouse by Chris Sorensen for The Wall Street Journal]
Here's a fascinating video of Twyla with Mikhail Baryshnikov in 1976 (stick with it)...
SiriusXM. I'll be on SiriusXM's Feedback (Channel 106) on Tuesday, November 5 at 8 a.m. (EST) with Nik and Lori to talk about my "Anatomy of a Song" column on Thin Lizzy's The Boys Are Back in Town. Tune in!
Zacherley lives! Following my post on John Zacherley, a witty Philadelphia and New York TV monster-movie host in the late 1950s and '60s as well as early FM rock radio host, I received the following from Tom Donald:
Marc, thanks much for the Zacherley tribute. We didn't get him out here in the Midwest. We were treated to Sammy Terry (say it fast) every Saturday night in the Indianapolis area. Now his son carries on the tradition. It's still great.
Stan Getz and more. Following my post on the Blank on Blank interview with Stan Getz, which combined Joe Smith's 1986 Stan Getz interview with animation, Steve Taylor tells me there are many more Smith interviews at the Library of Congress site. Artists include Carmen McRae, Dave Brubeck, Woody Herman, Mitch Miller, Bo Diddley, Artie Shaw, Herbie Hancock and others. Go here.
Sunset Tower. Last weekend and part of this week I was in Los Angeles. On Sunday morning, I picked up The New York Times at the Sunset Tower Hotel and sat in the Art Deco lobby as the sun came through a corner window. Pure joy. Best of all, for the entire half hour I was there reading the main section, the lobby's sound system played Artie Shaw. There's nothing finer than hearing Artie Shaw in this 1930s masterpiece. [Photo above of Sunset Tower by Marc Myers]
Here's one of the Shaw songs I heard in the lobby—They Say, with Helen Forrest on vocal in 1939...
Today is Roger Kellaway's 80th birthday (happy birthday, Roger!). Roger is an exceptional jazz pianist with a stunning technique who appears on many of my favorite jazz albums, including Oliver Nelson's More Blues and the Abstract Truth (1964), Wes Montgomery's Bumpin' (1965) and Sonny Rollins's Alfie (1966). His leadership albums also are extraordinary, so much so you can't believe your ears.
To celebrate his birthday, Roger will appear at New York's Birdland Theater on November 15 and 16 (at 7 and 9:45 p.m.). He'll be backed by guitarist Roni Ben-Hur and bassist Jay Leonhart. He'll also appear that evening upstairs (at 8:30 and 11 p.m.) as a special guest with the Django Reinhardt Festival. For tickets and information, go here.
Roger also has a new album out—The Many Open Minds of Roger Kellaway (IPO), featuring Roger on piano, Bruce Forman on guitar and Dan Lutz on bass. It was recorded live at the Jazz Bakery in 2009. You'll find it here or here. You can listen here...
Recently I had a chance to catch up with Roger...
JazzWax: What was life like in the 1940s when you grew up in Waban, Mass.? Roger Kellaway: Waban was a small New England town with one policeman, one drugstore, one bank, one market, one shoe-repair store, one barbershop, one library and one community center where we used to watch Laurel & Hardy movies on Saturday mornings for a nickel. Locomotive trains up there were still powered by steam. At some point, I started playing a little guitar.
JW: When did you start taking piano lessons? RK: I began formal piano lessons at age 7. At age 11, I discovered George Shearing’s I’ll Remember April. I bought the sheet music. and the song became my piano solo for several years. After Shearing, I listened to pianists Billy Taylor, Oscar Peterson and Horace Silver. My listening habits were mostly classical but I quickly added jazz and big bands. In junior high school, eight kids tried out for the piano in the orchestra. So I started playing the upright bass. I taught myself how to play. Four years later, I played fourth bass in the Massachusetts All-State Orchestra under Frederick Fennell.
JW: Did you play jazz bass during this period? RK: Yes, in the King’s Men, our local band. Dick Sudhalter was in the band playing cornet. I continued on the bass until I arrived in New York in 1960. At that time, I sat in on bass with Jimmy Giuffre (above) and Jim Hall. Jimmy offered me the gig, but due to complications in my personal life, I decided not to do it. I often think back to that time and realize that Jimmy's next band was with pianist Paul Bley and bassist Steve Swallow.
JW: Who was most helpful to you early on? RK: In school, I had two influences pushing me in two different directions. First, was Dick Sudhalter, pushing me toward Dixieland. His father had played alto sax in early Dixieland bands. Dick was strongly influenced by Bix Beiderbecke. The second influence was Dave Schreier who played tenor sax and was pushing me toward modern jazz.
JW: Who were you listening to most at this point? RK: Igor Stravinsky and other Russian composers. I also discovered Fats Waller. Two other strong musical influences at the New England Conservatory were multi-instrumentalists Dick Wetmore and Leroy “Sam” Parkins. Dick played cornet, baritone horn and violin. He had the most beautiful lyrical style of playing on all three instruments. I played bass with him at Boston’s Hotel Buckminister in the basement where we played a mixture of Dixieland and modern jazz. However, every other Sunday featured the beginnings of jazz and poetry. Someone would read poet E.E. Cummings, and we'd accompany the reader with improvisations based on some of Dick's 12-tone rows. Needless to say, by this point, I was listening to Dixieland followed by Arnold Schoenberg.
JW: What else can you share about Sam Parkins? RK: Sam played tenor sax and clarinet. I played bass with him at a Dixieland gig on Cape Cod. The drummer was Tommy Benford, who had been around the world twice with Fats Waller. Tommy's drum solos, to me, were more interesting than Max Roach’s. By then I was a Clifford Brown and Max Roach fan. At the end of the Cape Cod gig, Sam and I drove to his house in Brookline, Mass. I stayed overnight, and for hours we improvised four-handed atonal sonatas on his piano. All of these events with Dick and Sam were playing and listening moments more than teacher-student moments. Playing with Dick and Sam provided me with a different lesson. As I listened closely to how they played, I figured out how to accompany them and reach the highest musical experience. [Photo above of Sam Parkins courtesy of Ed Berger]
JW: Do you remember much from one of your first recordings, the album with Mark Murphy? That was some group of musicians. RK: You're referring to Mark Murphy’s That’s How I Love the Blues for Riverside in 1962. That was a sensational moment in my life. However, the first recording I did with Mark was a Gene Lees song, Fly Away My Sadness backed by the Al Cohn Orchestra. I'm not sure the recording was ever released. [Here's the Mark Murphy Riverside single It's Like Love and Fly Away, My Sadness...]
JW: What made Ben Webster special? RK: Ben Webster and I never hung out together, so I got to know him only on recording sessions. How do you accompany Ben Webster? You listen to his every note and phrase, and stay out of the way of his gorgeous sound. I recorded three albums with Ben: More, with Clark Terry, on which I wrote all of the arrangements; More Blues and the Abstract Truth; and See You at the Fair. I played on half the latter album, loving the tracks with piano and disliking intensely the two tracks that I had to play electric harpsichord—an early synthesizer experience. The keyboard’s action was so loose that it was difficult to control.
JW: More Blues and the Abstract Truth has a wonderful cinematic feel. What was arranger Oliver Nelson like to work with? RK:More Blues and the Abstract Truth is one of my very favorite albums, along with Sonny Rollins’s Alfie and Wes Montgomery’s Bumpin’. The title track was the hardest chart. We took it home to work on and recorded it the next day. All the other tracks were done in one take. At this time in New York, studio players could sight-read the music and make it sound as if they had been playing it for weeks. The studio scene was highly energetic and passionate then, especially for someone like Oliver. His music made you feel that way. So, the end results were high-quality music. Oliver, this nice and gentle guy, would give a simple downbeat and unleash all of this sun power. What a sound!
JW: What did you think of Wes Montgomery? You're on two of his albums. RK: Wes was pretty quiet. He didn’t say much. For Bumpin', we rehearsed for four days, giving Wes an opportunity to memorize the music, since he didn’t read music. The rehearsals were supervised by Don Sebesky, who later arranged the strings and harp overdubs. My second Wes encounter was a gig at New York's Half Note, where I would spend 2½ years with the Clark Terry/Bob Brookmeyer quintet.
JW: How did you wind up on the gig? RK: I was subbing for Wynton Kelly. This was just after Bumpin’ was released. For some reason, Wynton couldn't make it. He must have liked my work on Bumpin' and recommended me for the gig. What a happy moment. The bass player was Paul Chambers and the drummer was Jimmie Smith. What a wonderful time. That was the only opportunity I had to play with Paul. I played later with Smith on an album called Just Friends with Zoot Sims and Harry “Sweets” Edison. The bass player was John Heard.
JW: Montgomery’s Goin’ Out of My Head was a big turning point in jazz-pop. What do you recall from that session? RK: I don't have any memory of the session. Except for the opening left-hand octaves, there's not enough piano in the mix to tell whether it's me or Herbie Hancock. I know I played on half of the album. But, those tracks were taken from the Bumpin’ recording sessions—even the outtakes from that album.
JW: Who were you listening to during your period in New York? RK: In the early 1960s, my listening habits were shape-shifting again, adding Olivier Messiaen, Lucciano Berio, John Cage, Edgar Varese and various avant-garde composers of electronic music and musique concrète.
JW: What do you remember about Sonny Rollins’s Alfie album? RK:Alfie was another one of my favorites. Can you imagine—Sonny Rollins and Oliver Nelson? Everything on the session was sheer joy. Track #4, Transition Theme, has two of my piano solos. In the middle of Sonny's solo, he stopped playing and moved off-mike. When I saw him do this, I grabbed the space for a second piano solo.
JW: Trombonist J.J. Johnson’s Betwixt and Between in 1968 with trombonist Kai Winding has an unusual sound. RK: I played piano and electric keyboard on there. I arranged Just a Funky Old Vegetable Bin. It's unfortunate that the style of the album didn't give me much of a chance to play with J.J. or Kai Winding.
JW: How did you come to work as singer Bobby Darin’s music director? RK: I was coming off a year as musical director for comedian Jack E Leonard. Jack used to be a dancer and he always liked a band behind him. Drummer Stan Levey recommended me to Bobby. I rehearsed a few tunes with Bobby on a Thursday and got the gig. We were to open at the Flamingo Hotel in Las Vegas the following Tuesday. He sang me a concept he had for The Shadow of Your Smile. Then he asked me to check his files for the arrangement. I searched but didn’t find the chart. When I told him no such arrangement existed in his file, he said, without skipping a beat, “Well, there will be by next Tuesday.” That was Bobby. [Photo above, from left, of Michael Kollender, Roger Kellaway, Tony Inzalaco and Chuck Domanico on Bobby Darin's world tour in 1967]
JW: How did the Dr. Dolittle album come together? RK: Bobby was very direct and clear about what he wanted musically and how he wanted the stage show to be handled. I took a lot of musical dictation from him for the first year regarding several arrangements. Then, out of the blue, in 1967, he called me and had me join him in his suite at the Flamingo. He presented me with Leslie Bricusse's songs to the Dr. Doolittle film that came out that year. We found his keys on each tune. Then he gave me the name of the recording studio and the instrumentation—a 35-piece orchestra. He said we’d be recording in three weeks. With just one year of experience under my belt, I delivered the arrangements for what would become Bobby Darin Sings Dr. Doolittle. I’m still extremely proud of the album and my arrangements.
JW: What do you think of Darin? RK: Bobby will always be one of the greatest performers I ever worked with. He swung with ease, he used to stage with ease, he related to the audience with ease and confidence. He walked on and every move was perfection. What a teacher. I learned my stage timing from Bobby Darin. And Jack E. Leonard.
JW: How did your fabulous cello quartet album in 1970 evolve? Those three albums remain gorgeous. RK: In 1969 I was writing pieces for cello and piano. I wanted to play piano against original cello music. Edgar Lustgarten was my favorite studio cellist, so I asked him to come by my house and play through my new pieces with me. He agreed. In my mind, that was the beginning of my cello quartet albums.
JW: Were the musicians carefully selected? RK: Absolutely. I picked Chuck Domanico on bass and Emil Richards on percussion. I wanted the group to express the sound of wood. Also, three of us could improvise in unusual time signatures. For example, Sunrise, from my first album, Roger Kellaway Cello Quartet (1970) is in 15/8; and Esque from the same album is in 5/4.
JW: Why call it a cello quartet when there’s only one cellist? RK: The music I was writing for this group was put in a stack I called “Cello Quartet.” The other stack was called “Sax Quartet,” relating to my group with Tom Scott. So, I kept the name “Cello Quartet.” Remember, Bartok had a piece called Clarinet Trio that didn't feature three clarinets. Along the way, I met Steve Goldman, who said he'd like to produce the album. I was with A&M records at the time, so, I took the idea to Herb Alpert. He said, “Go,” and the Cello Quartet was born.
JW: How did you get the job writing Remembering You, the closing theme to TV's All in the Family? RK: Dave Grusin had just finished a film with Bud Yorkin, a partner of Norman Lear. Given his schedule, Dave didn't have time for this TV sitcom project. So he recommended me. I read the pilot script and wrote a theme song, not knowing they had already hired Lee Adams and Charles Strouse to write Those Were The Days. I drove into Hollywood and played my song for director John Rich, Norman Lear and Carroll O’Connor.
JW: What did they think? RK: They loved it immediately. I recorded it on piano. The first six episodes had two themes at the end while the credits rolled—Lee Adams and Charles Strouse's opener, Those Were the Days, followed by my Remembering You piano solo. My wife, Jorjana, suggested I go to Norman Lear and tell him that we didn’t need two themes at the end. He agreed and made my song the closer. Carroll was credited for the lyrics, but they were never used at the end. All in the Family became the first TV show to have an opening theme and a different closing theme. [Here it is...]
JW: What are five of your favorite Roger Kellaway albums and why? RK:The Roger Kellaway Cello Quartet (A&M/1970). This is an important album in my life. Because of this album, I began being called the “father of crossover.” I'll take it!
In Japan (All Art Jazz/1986). This is my first Japanese CD. The original title of the album was Kellaway Plays Broadway. Our Japanese producers thought that Kellaway and Broadway rhymed.
Roger Kellaway Meets the Duo (Chiaroscuro/1992). This was my first opportunity to record with the piano-guitar-bass format. It was a wonderful group—me with guitarist Gene Bertoncini and bassist Michael Moore. I had played duo with Michael for two years, and Michael played duo with Gene for about five years.
Live At Maybeck Recital Hall, Vol. 11 (Concord/1991). This is one of my favorite solo piano CDs.
Inside & Out (Concord/1995) was recorded with cornetist Ruby Braff. I first met Ruby when I was a teenager. So this CD links to my childhood. I love how much music we made together.
Albums with Red Mitchell. Red was my partner for eight years. We made eight CDs together. I loved every one of them.
Heroes (IPO/2005) is my tribute to the old Oscar Peterson Trio. It won the French Jazz Academy's Classic Jazz Prize.
Duke at the Roadhouse (IPO/2012). Here I recorded with Eddie Daniels on clarinet and James Holland on cello. It won the French Jazz Academy's Grand Prix Award.
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.
