I love Oscar Peterson's playing. I'm just not crazy about his tempos. As the leader on recording sessions with his trio or quartet, Peterson tended to take upbeat songs excruciatingly slow and mid-tempo songs erratically. So many feel out of joint, as if you’re being rushed through a meal at a restaurant. I’m not sure why Verve and Pablo producer Norman Granz didn't bother to mention this to him over a dinner or from the studio control booth. Only a handful of Peterson leadership albums are just right throughout. A Jazz Portrait of Frank Sinatra (1959), West Side Story (1962), We Get Requests (1964) and Tristeza on Piano (1970) come to mind.
But as a sideman, Peterson was at ease and sensational. The session leader called the pace and Peterson just had to build a beautiful frame around each song. This was the case on albums such as Lester Young With the Oscar Peterson Trio (1952), Stan Getz and the Oscar Peterson Trio (1957), Soulville with Ben Webster (1957), Zoot Sims and the Gershwin Brothers (1975) and many others. One of my favorites in this category is Sonny Stitt Sits in With the Oscar Peterson Trio.
Recorded in May 1959, the album featured Stitt playing alto saxophone on the first five tracks and tenor saxophone on the last three. Ray Brown was on bass and Ed Thigpen was on drums. The song choices are predominantly bop classics, giving us a chance to hear Peterson's early piano approach rather than the commercial show-biz standards he tended to record later. For his part, Stitt is in top form with such a strong trio behind him.
The songs are I Can't Give You Anything But Love; Au Privave; The Gypsy; I'll Remember April; Scrapple from the Apple; Moten Swing; Blues for Pres, Sweets, Ben and All the Other Funky Ones and Easy Does It. In particular, Stitt's The Gypsy is a tour de force, loaded with soul and energy, and Peterson and Stitt on Scrapple From the Apple is spirited and loose. Even Blues has a nice mid-tempo bounce. The last track says it all—Easy Does It. Good advice.
Oscar Peterson died in 2007; Sonny Stitt died in 1982.
JazzWax tracks: You'll find Sonny Stitt Sits in with the Oscar Peterson Trio (Verve) here.
Over the weekend, pianist Dave Thompson sent along a link to a recently uploaded, hour-long video of the Bill Evans Trio in concert in 1977. While the person who uploaded it thought the performance took place in Boston, it actually was held at the Eastman Theatre in Rochester, N.Y. Based on my additional research, two concerts dates were advertised—one for Friday, April 8, 1977, at 8 p.m. (tickets were $4, or $2 for students and seniors) and the second on Tuesday, April 12. But the trio didn't play two different concerts.
According to writer Tonino Vantaggiato in Italy, Evans's mother, Mary Soroka Evans, died on April 5, 1977. As a result, the concert and the classroom time the trio planned to spend with Eastman professor Bill Dobbins had to rescheduled. While bassist Eddie Gomez had planned to make the April 8 concert date, he was already obligated to record with Jack De Johnette the following week on McCoy Tyner's album Supertrios. So Chuck Israels was called.
On April 12, the concert was videotaped for At the Top, a jazz series of concerts produced for Rochester's WXXI, a PBS TV station. The video was broadcast on TV on Thursday, July 21, 1977 on Channel 24. The music also aired on WXXI-FM, Tonino said, adding that there were two sets separated by an intermission. The video is likely the first set.
The songs on the video (the first concert) are Emily, Time Remembered, Summertime, In Your Own Sweet Way, I Loves You Porgy, Up With the Lark, Some Other Time and My Romance. The high points for me here are Evans on Porgy and Some Other Time. Chuck Israels on bass is commanding throughout.
After the intermission, Tonino said, the songs were (in no particular order) Sugar Plum, How My Heart Sings, Autumn Leaves, My Foolish Heart, Minha (All Mine) and All Of You, which Tonino notes was usually a set closer at the time.
Though the video and sound on the YouTube video aren't great, what's interesting is that Chuck is on bass. I wasn't aware that he played gigs with the trio so late into the 1970s, but he did. And his bass playing here is superb, especially on the solos. One senses Evans was wooing him with hopes of bringing him in if Eddie Gomez, the trio's working bassist at the time, left the group.
I reached out to Chuck for additional insights:
Hi Marc. Bill called and the three of us flew up to Rochester together from New York on Sunday night. On the plane, Bill wrote quick chord charts for "Emily" and "Up With the Lark" on airline stationery. At the time, I was unfamiliar with these songs. Two other songs that I don't believe were part of Bill's repertoire then were Minha (All Mine) and All Of You. He might have written out charts for these as well.
We jumped in unrehearsed, and this was the result. I remember interacting with students in classrooms, so we probably did a few clinics at the Eastman School of Music between concerts while up there. Bill had a connection through Professor Bill Dobbins.
Among the things that strike me: By this time, Bill seemed to be on autopilot—a high level one, but the newness of the music had receded somewhat from Bill since I’d last played with him. I felt that beginning to happen before I left the trio 11 years earlier. Maybe the fact that I didn't really challenge him on bass that night made some contribution to this.
I know I didn’t push him or compete with him the way Scotty LaFaro had. By 1977, 11 years of study, composing and general musical development later, maybe I might have been able to do that more. But there were reasons it didn’t seem like the best path for me, career-wise. A few months after our concert in Rochester, Eddie left the trio and Philly Joe was playing drums. Bill was looking for a bass player.
Around that time, I played with them for a few nights at New York's Village Vanguard. But there was so much intravenous cocaine-consumption going on that the music became frantic. So I turned down Bill’s invitation to join the trio. Bassist Marc Johnson took the job a few days later.
As much of an impact that Bill's music had on me (almost immeasurable), the majority of its effect happened starting in 1955, before I played with him and had only heard him. And while his playing still sets some essential aesthetic boundaries for me, something was starting to lose immediacy for me by the time I left the trio. I was determined to create music on my own that held the powerful thrills Bill’s music first provided. I’m still chasing that dream. [Photo above of the Eastman Theatre]
That said, I’m glad to have access to this video, even though the quality is abominable, the sound isn’t much better, and the bass sounds over-amplified. I’m sure I didn’t use a pickup, but there’s an enormous amp behind me. Maybe the sound guys were running the bass mic through that. In any case, the bass sound veers a little too much towards an electric quality for my taste. Of course, that may also be the poor sound quality of the recording.
Here's the Bill Evans Trio in Rochester in April 1977, with Bill Evans on piano, Chuck Israels on bass and Eliot Zigmund on drums...
If you're a stickler for sound, as I am, do your best to line up the following audio with the video. The audio likely came from the tape used for the WXXI-FM broadcast...
And here's what Chuck is up to more recently. Here's the Chuck Israels Orchestra playing Evans's Show-Type Tune...
And here's the Chuck Israels Jazz Orchestra playing Concerto Peligroso...
Last week in The Wall Street Journal, I interviewed actress Lorraine Toussaint for my "House Call" column in the Mansion section (go here). Lorraine is currently in TV's The Equalizer (CBS) and the film Concrete Cowboy. She grew up in Trinidad, where kids were beaten regularly as a form of parental communication. Two years after her mother went to work in New York, Lorraine joined her in Brooklyn. Lorraine later decided on becoming an actress after seeing a local acting school listed in the Yellow Pages. Her mom paid for tuition with money she was going to use to buy a dress. Then when Lorraine was about to attend an arts high school, her mother was diagnosed with multiple sclerosis. So Lorraine worked hard in school and then rushed home each day to care for her mom. A stark, loving story. [Photo above of Lorraine Toussaint courtesy of CBS]
Fab weekend film. Chris Cordone (above) not only directed Stevie D (2016) but also starred in two of the film's roles. Very funny movie about an unassuming L.A. actor hired to play a construction tycoon's bad-news son with a Mob target on his back. Stick around for the closing song: Meet Me Incognito, by Giacomo Gates. You can watch Stevie D ad-free at Amazon Prime here or on YouTube here...
Alex Baird is trying to reach her financial goal so she can record an album. Donate by buying a gift for yourself at different levels here. Here's Alex's cover of the Bee Gees' How Deep Is Your Love...
Gary Anderson, a Las Vegas saxophonist composer-arranger (above), just started a YouTube channel where he plans on showing videos like this one of his music for TV and film...
Bennie Green radio. On Sunday (April 4), WKCR-FM in New York will re-broadcast Sid Gribetz's five-hour, 2015 tribute to trombonist Bennie Green from 2 to 7 p.m. To listen from anywhere in the world, go here.
Here's Bennie Green and Sonny Stitt playing Our Day Will Come in 1964...
Billie Holiday radio. Flag your calendar. Next Wednesday, April 7, WKCR-FM in New York will be airing its annual Billie Holiday Birthday Broadcast for 24 hours, from midnight to midnight. Tune in from anywhere in the world by going here.
Al Hibbler and Rahsaan Roland Kirk recorded a fabulous album in 1972 for Atlantic called A Meeting of the Times. Included is Do Nothin' Til You Hear From Me. Go here...
And finally,here's Gil Torres and the LarKings from Brooklyn singing a terrific cover of the Ravens' Count Every Star (1950). The performance was so good that a guy seated in the front on the right got his back scratched...
I discovered Lucy Yeghiazaryan by accident a month or so ago. I was flying through Facebook before turning in for the night and there she was, singing away. I was most struck by her 1950s phrasing and the freedom of her improvisation. She clearly had done quite a bit of intensive listening. I also was curious about her Armenian past and how she learned to swing. Before I roll out my interview with Lucy, here are a couple of tracks so you can hear what I heard:
Here'sThou Swell, from her most recent album, Blue Heaven (Cellar)...
And here's Lucy in 2019 singing You're Driving Me Crazy...
This Monday (April 5) at 7 p.m. (ET), Lucy will be featured live online at Emmet's Place with tenor saxophonist Grant Stewart. If you're unfamiliar with Emmet's Place, dig my recent post on pianist Emmet Cohen here. To watch and listen to Lucy, Grant and the Emmet Cohen Trio, go to Emmet's Facebook page at 7 p.m. on Monday here.
JazzWax: Where did you grow up? Lucy Yeghiazaryan: In a small town in Armenia on the Ararat Plain. The town was a huge agricultural hub during the Soviet era but had been reduced to a village by the time I grew up there. My mother is a child psychologist, and my father is a woodcarver and a calligraphist. After the fall of the Soviet Union in 1991, many people found themselves unemployed. The U.S.S.R. had been the country's main employer. As a result, the big source of income switched to a family member working abroad and sending back earnings.
JW: What did your family do after 1991? LY: My father somehow got work designing interiors for all sorts of people, including questionable characters and warlords. But the income from this type of work was inconsistent and at times posed dangers. So life in Armenia for an artist like my father was nearly impossible. My parents had four daughters to support. I'm the third.
JW: How did you wind up listening to jazz in Armenia? LY: My father is now 75. His generation grew up under U.S.S.R. control and was obsessed with America. It represented everything the Soviet Union was not. America held a particularly special appeal for those who were artistically inclined because it was a place that celebrated art forms such as jazz. In my father’s view, jazz represented the best of America.
JW: What albums did you listened to? LY: My father had only a few albums. One was Duke Ellington at Newport (1956) and scattered recordings by Oscar Peterson, Louis Armstrong, Ray Charles, Mahalia Jackson and some Billie Holiday with Teddy Wilson. I think because people had to sneak this stuff in, Armenia never had large quantities of anything. Whatever you had on tape was a copy of a copy of a copy. Most of the time what you heard were random tracks, not entire albums.
JW: Tell me about those tapes. LY: My mother had a live recording of Ella Fitzgerald singing Flying Home taped over a Michael Bolton cassette. That's how it was. We switched to tape after our record player broke. The tapes we acquired were recorded on top of other music. So the vocals would cut in and out. Also with tape recorders, if the electricity went out, which was often, you could use batteries and continue to listen. If the batteries died, you'd wind up singing the stuff to yourself so you could hear it again. As a result of these experiences, I’ve always been an obsessive listener but not an expansive listener. I don't know too many recordings, but whatever I do know I know them intimately.
JW: What was Armenia like when you lived there? LY: My recollections of my childhood are very bright and happy. My mother was an excellent parent who fostered a deep love for the arts in all four of her daughters. In part, this was because she understood how terrible our prospects were and she needed a fulfilling distraction from the very grim reality of post-Soviet Armenia.
JW: But growing up in Armenia must have been difficult during those years, yes? LY: Of course. The economic collapse was so massive that the entire country didn't have electricity for years. Every kid I knew was always hungry. Corruption was pervasive and an accepted way of life. Poverty has a strange way of breaking down people and then bringing them together. Because poverty was a new way of life for so many, it hadn't resulted in ignorance yet in the 1990s. Most people had been very well educated during the Soviet era and still believed that things would get better. In a very strange way, I consider myself lucky to have been a kid during this period. It was a hopeless time, but people were still full of hope somehow.
JW: Your parents had to leave? LY: Of course. We had to find a way, economically. My mother was brave enough to come to America on her own. It was the only way. We had no family there. She worked for three years by herself to sponsor us to come over.
JW: Where did you live when your family finally moved to America? LY: We relocated to rural West Milford, N.J., just after the 9/11 attack in 2001. I was 11. It was a super conservative town with zero immigrant presence. Nothing tragic happened to us, but we weren't exactly welcomed either. I’m glad this was our first experience because it left no room for delusions about this country. Emigrating is an extremely traumatic experience, especially if you don't speak the language. It wasn't pleasant, but we stuck it out and I'm glad we did.
JW: How did you begin singing jazz? LY: My sisters and I had always sung in Armenia, so I had experience. About an hour's drive from our new home, the New Jersey Performing Arts Center had a program called Jazz for Teens. I attended classes there when I was a teenager and they'd always have a rhythm section on hand to accompany singers. They helped me become comfortable performing in front of a band. I sang in school as well. We had a good choir director. Before all of this, I sang with my sisters for years and had been in this a cappella group continuously until about two years ago. I also play some classical violin, so I think I became very good at distracting myself with music from a very early age. The isolating experience of emigrating does help in developing introverted habits. I'm a decent artist, so I would always be listening to music and working on something with my hands. Slowly it turned into more active listening and practicing.
JW: Did you always sing around the house? Did you take voice lessons? LY: I did always sing around the house and I still do. It happens automatically. I think for singers, this "inactive" form of practicing is very important. It sort of helps you put certain things on autopilot without overthinking. As for lessons, there was a vocal teacher at NJPAC, but I never bothered. I’ve always found singing with a rhythm section to be much more helpful than any vocal lesson I ever got.
JW: How did you learn to sing jazz before you understood English completely? LY: I'm obsessive about the pronunciation of words and I think I got this way very early on from jazz albums and from wanting to erase any trace of my past after emigrating. I didn't speak the language at first, so the words were just sounds. I had to mimic the sounds I heard. In a sense, after I learned English that way, I was reintroduced to the music through the actual lyrics. They were twice as good to sing once I understand their meaning.
JW: How did you learn about American jazz singers? LY: We acquired the music in Armenia indirectly on mix tapes. But we never saw an album cover or liner notes, just cassette tapes. I never knew anything about the jazz musicians I heard other than their music. I only was able to see what they looked like in photos after I emigrated to America. I've since read biographies, but that aspect never interested me much. The art is all in the voice.
JW: What did you study in college? LY: I started in college as a jazz vocal major at William Paterson University but switched to world history a few months into the program. I don't think you can teach anyone how to sing. You just have to sing with a band. I quickly realized I could do that in practice rooms and in people's basements without having to get a degree. So I changed majors.
JW: Wow, that will come as a shock to some. LY: A lot of people don't like to hear that, but that's what worked for me. I moved into New York after college in 2015. Initially, I didn't intend to become a jazz singer. I wanted to make use of my history degree. But music creeped back into my life. I had a much easier time finding work singing than a job as a historian. People hired me as a singer to replace horn players because I knew a lot of tunes and had the stamina for long gigs. So I started singing to pay the rent and never looked back.
JW: How has the pandemic affected you? LY: At this point in the pandemic, everyone in the jazz world has sort of reached the end of their rope. Naturally it's frustrating. Everyone wants to be back on stage and in the studio. The few gigs I've had made me realize how out of practice all of us have become and how difficult this job really is. Without constant attention to singing and playing, the feeling slowly recedes and you change as a person. My career was just starting to take hold right before all of this started in March of 2020. So a part of me is a bit annoyed at the timing of the virus, but one must be patient.
JW: Hey, you found a husband. LY: I did. I was married during the pandemic with only my mother in attendance. It has been great, but the inability to share things with friends and other artists in person is frustrating and bittersweet. I've done my best to switch gears. I wrote and received three grants: South Arts Jazz Road Tours (which was supposed to take place in March but has been postponed); NYC Women's Fund for Arts and Media, for an album that should be released this summer; and Chamber Music America's Performance Plus program, which will allow me to do some work with the great tenor saxophonist Houston Person. And some of my illustrations will be featured in an Armenian translated folk tale that will be published within the year.
JW: Why wasn't your father at your wedding? LY: My dad moved back to Armenia about 10 years ago. He's 75 now, and I think leaving Armenia, even in 2001, was too hard on him. He just couldn't make the adjustment.
JW: Have you been back to Armenia since you left? Do you miss it? LY: Yes, multiple times. I most recently went back last year for the Armenia Jazz Festival. I was astonished at the popularity of jazz in the capital. We played a small club where the entire backroom was singing along to a bebop head arrangement, something I’ve never seen happen in New York. The first time I went back was 10 years after I relocated here. The long absence made my visit feel like a dream.
JW: How so? LY: Being there becomes more and more real the more often you return. But it's never home again. And being here is never being home. I think the real trauma of immigration is that you become spiritually homeless. I miss Armenia but I know I could never live there again. Armenia had a velvet revolution two years ago and it seemed as if things would move in the right direction for the first time since the '90's. But we lost a terrible war this year against Azerbaijan and Turkey, so the country is in a really bad place. All Armenians are in their darkest hour right now.
JW: What are your favorite vocal tracks and albums? LY: There are so many. I was recently introduced to a singer I had never heard before—Ozzie Bailey. He recorded with Duke Ellington starting in 1956 and recorded in the studio with pianist-composer Billy Strayhorn in 1965. The tracks appear on a Strayhorn compilation called Lush Life (Red Baron). It's some of the most beautiful singing I've ever heard.
One Night Stand: The Town Hall Concert (1947) with Lester Young and Sarah Vaughan is amazing. I don’t know why they didn’t record together on any of the tunes, but it’s still one of my favorite albums. Sarah does some ballads at excruciatingly slow tempos, but they feel like a breeze.
Etta Jones: Don't Go to Strangers (1960). You can put this album on any time to listen, while doing things around the house or just to fall asleep to. It's beautiful.
I was going to do a concert honoring Maxine Sullivan before the pandemic, but that obviously has been put on hold. She recorded this tune called Restless, and I just love how simply she sings it. She makes a complicated melody pleasantly digestible. Here it is...
I love Ella in Rome: The Birthday Concert (1958). Everything begins and ends with Ella for me.
Billie Holiday's live version of I Wonder Where Our Love Has Gone in 1948 touches me. Listen here...
Abbey Lincoln's Straight Ahead (1961) is so unique in its content and arrangements, I don't know any other vocal albums like this one.
Andy Bey and the Bey Sisters is a terrific album on Blues Sounds. I found a YouTube clip of Smooth Sailing. I’ve never been big on jazz vocal groups. Most sound corny. But this is an example where you can’t help but snap along. Go here...
I like Barbara Winfield on Tadd Dameron’s album The Magic Touch (1962). She recorded just two tracks—You’re a Joy and If You Could See Me Now. They're the only recordings she made. Although she has a slight lisp, there's something so open and beautiful about her singing. Go here...
Another live video I love features Joe Williams and Jimmy Rushing with Count Basie singing Going to Chicago. So relaxed and tasteful. It's here...
And finally, I'm not a huge Betty Carter fan, but I love her Out There album (1958).
Even when Pharoah Sanders plays uptempo, he sounds as if he's playing a ballad. That's because the tenor saxophonist, known for his deeply spiritual approach, is always in a meditative space when creating. Sanders began playing jazz in 1961, when he moved to New York from Oakland, Calif. Born Farrell Sanders in Little Rock, Ark., he was urged by Sun Ra in New York to use the name Pharoah instead of Ferrell. Sanders followed the orchestra leader's advice and promptly began exploring the avant-garde. In 1965, Sanders joined John Coltrane's group and recorded on Coltrane's Ascension (Archie Shepp also was on tenor saxophone) and Meditations as a soloist. Some believe Coltrane's late abstract style was influenced by Sanders. [Photo above of Pharoah Sanders, courtesy of the artist]
Artistically, Sanders has been on a life-long journey. His search for meaning has taken him through various global cultures as well as many different forms of music. His trip is less of a frustrating search to find himself than an odyssey borne out of curiosity. Unlike most jazz, which fits into formulas created by commercial demand, Sanders' jazz is driven by his feelings and spirit. The result is a fascinating form of expressive jazz that's true to himself and his emotional compass. [Photo above of Pharoah Sanders and Sam Shepherd courtesy of the artist]
Sanders' latest album, Promises. Is something of a new chapter in which he works on a large canvas and incorporates electronica. He's featured on the tenor saxophone and vocals, but he collaborated with Sam Shepherd, known professionally as Floating Points. Shepherd is a British musician who, on the album, plays piano, harpsichord, celesta, Fender Rhodes, Hammond-B3 organ, Oberheim 4 voice & OB-Xa, Solina String Ensemble, Therevox ET-4.3, EMS Synthi, ARP 2600 and Buchla 200e. Shepherd also scored the string section of the London Symphony Orchestra. The 46-minute album consists of nine movements, with no gaps between them.
The music is a fascinating voyage with Sanders at the helm. As you listen, you feels as if you're canoeing on a tranquil river that winds through a dense forest of fragrant musical foliage. You listen and feel as if you're meditating. There are synthesizers coming and going, the bell sound of a celesta, strings and a wide range of repeated musical phrases. Atop it all is Sanders' saxophone, making statements with his overblowing technique or sitting out periods to allow the sparkling surface of electronica to stand out. As you listen, the album acts as a blotter, draining your stress and anxiety and freeing your ears to listen to the detail and feel the current of the music. To me, it's like putting your hand under the surface of a stream and feeling the different unseen forces tug and push your hand. [Photo above of Pharoah Sanders and Sam Shepherd courtesy of the artists]
If this album makes you curious about Sanders, the next step is Karma, with its 33-minute The Creator Has a Master Plan. The song is hypnotic. Then you can shift to Sanders' early years, checking out albums such as Pharoah's First (1964) and Tauhid (1966). Then check out Moon Child and any album with the word ballad in its title. From there, you'll be ready for whatever Sanders album you choose next. They're always a surprise.
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.
