Blue Note Records changed jazz’s direction not once but multiple times. When the label was launched in New York in 1939 by Alfred Lion and Max Margulis, Blue Note was first to treat hot jazz, boogie-woogie pianists and soprano saxophonist Sidney Bechet with artistic seriousness. [Photo above, from left, Alfred Lion, Dexter Gordon and Francis Wolff by Rudy Van Gelder]

From the start, the label established a high bar for the treatment of exceptional jazz musicians, a standard of respect that put the independent company out in front and created good will with jazz musicians.

Blue Note then recorded exceptional bebop musicians early, in the late 1940s. The list includes Thelonious Monk, Miles Davis, Bud Powell, Tadd Dameron and Fats Navarro, before they were discovered by major record companies.

When Lion’s childhood friend Francis Wolff arrived in New York from Germany in 1939, he not only joined the company and ran the business side but he also revolutionized album-cover design starting in the early 1950s. A photographer, Wolff took dramatic images of the artists in the studio. This move not only helped Blue Note LPs stand out but fleshed out jazz’s cool, nocturnal mystique. The images also turned covers into jazz promotional vehicles that hooked and intrigued record buyers.

By linking up with recording engineer Rudy Van Gelder at the dawn of the 10-inch LP era in the early 1950s, Blue Note was provided with cutting-edge technology known then as magnetic tape. The label also benefited from Van Gelder’s sonic acumen, which gave the label’s LPs a warm and dimensional sound.

In the early 1950s, Blue Note helped launch hard bop, starting with albums such as A Night at Birdland Vols. 1-3, in 1954. The label enabled the new, aggressive style tp develop and flourish by recording a long list of pioneering artists, including Art Blakey, Horace Silver, Hank Mobley, Lee Morgan, Donald Byrd and Freddie Hubbard.

In the 1960s, Blue Note merged hard bop with Latin boogaloo and bossa nova, giving rise to a new style of funky jazz that is still being sampled by younger artists. It also helped modal jazz to develop, issuing albums by Wayne Shorter, McCoy Tyner, Bobby Hutcherson and others.

And finally. the label was at the forefront of avant-garde jazz by recording Eric Dolphy, Andrew Hill, Cecil Taylor, Sam Rivers and other musicians who might not have been able to find a label willing to record them or find an audience.

There are two major documentaries on the label—Blue Note Records: Beyond the Notes (2018), directed by Sophie Huber; and Blue Note: A Story of Modern Jazz (1997), directed by Julian Benedikt and Andreas Morell. The latter documentary provided many interesting historical insights and provided rare on-camera appearances by artists such as Gil Mellé.

Here’s the full Blue Note: A Story of Modern Jazz…

A bunch of years ago, I stumbled across a 15-minute black-and-white film called Audition at RCA directed in 1964 by D.A. “Penny” Pennebaker. Also known as Lambert & Co., the film features jazz vocalist Dave Lambert and four young singers he assembled for an audition at RCA studios in New York with hopes of recording a bunch of singles. The group—Mary Vonnie, Sarah Boatner, David Lucas and Leslie Dorsey—was formed shortly after the disbanding of Lambert, Hendricks & Bavan in late 1963.

Over the past few years, I’ve featured posts on the film as I’ve gathered more and more information from different sources. A few weeks ago, I interviewed Pennebaker for my “House Call” column in The Wall Street Journal. While I had Penny, I asked him about the making of Audition at RCA.

Rather than post his comments as a sole entry today, I’ve decided to unite all of the information from earlier posts into a single oral history so it will be a one-stop read. Interestingly, Penny filmed Audition at RCA just before embarking on Dont Look Back, his Bob Dylan documentary, in 1965.

First, let’s begin by looking at Audition at RCA so you have context…

Here’s the complete story behind the film, featuring my interviews with director D.A. Pennebaker, RCA producer George Avakian, singer Mary Vonnie and Dave Lambert’s daughter, Dee Lambert...

D.A. Pennebaker: In 1964, I already knew Dave Lambert and George Avakian. I had been a fan of Dave’s recordings for years, ever since I arrived in New York from Chicago in the 1940s. And I knew George because I had and still have a substantial collection of 78s that he knew about.

In 1959, fellow filmmaker Ricky Leacock and I joined Drew Associates, a journalistic film production company started by Robert Drew while he was at Life magazine. Ricky and I left Drew Associates in 1963, and a few months later we formed Leacock-Pennebaker Inc. We decided to build a film production studio at 56 West 45th street in the Diamond District.

Jewelers had been in the space but were robbed, so they decided to move out. After we got the 9th floor space, it was just an empty floor. As with any place you move into, you think you’ll be there forever so we had big plans.

While we worked on the rooms, Bob Van Dyke, our audio genius, introduced me to Dave. I told Dave what we were doing and Dave said he was a carpenter and would be happy to help us finish it. Dave turned out to be first-rate. We built little editing rooms and a place for a mixing studio. Another friend, Mario, who also did carpentry, helped, too. We finished the place in about a month.

At some point in ‘64, Dave told me he had assembled a new vocal group and that they were going down to RCA to see about a record deal. I know Dave was keen on recording his material as a series of 45s because singles would make him more immediate money.

Dave said his group, Lambert & Co., was going to record a demo of the songs they had rehearsed to see what RCA thought. I told Dave I’d go down and film them. He liked the idea.

George Avakian: From the film, it looks as if I had asked Dave to meet me outside the studio and that I was championing the session. In truth, I found out about the session only an hour or so before and had agreed to tag along in case I could be of help.

Pennebaker: What intrigued me about the film project was this combination of the “wild rabbits” and the “hutch rabbits.” The hutch rabbits were the studio musicians who lived in “cages,” got fed every day and were told when they’d be playing. They had steady work and were well cared for. The wild rabbits, by contrast, were the ones who came in with new ideas for a record. They faced more risk and higher stakes. I thought it would be interesting to film the two groups of “rabbits” working together.

Avakian: From the film, it looks like RCA Studios at 155 East 24th St., between Lexington and Third avenues. The guy in front of the dials is Ernie Oelrich, a superb engineer. The musicians were terrific. Bassist George Duvivier was an absolute rock in the studio—he knew exactly what to do the first time, perfectly. The same was true of pianist Moe Wechsler and drummer Gary Chester. They understood Dave’s music right away.

Pennebaker: There were three of us operating cameras that day—me, Nicholas Proferes and Jim Desmond. Several years earlier, Albert Maysles and I had created a compact 16mm camera that could be mounted on your shoulder. The portable camera eliminated the need for a bulky tripod and made the film more immediate, fluid and journalistic.

Nick was in the control room with his camera and Jim and I were in the studio shooting Dave and his singers. There was no real direction from me, which is also how I did Monterey Pop in 1967. Everyone was a free spirit to go with his gut. Then we edited the results later.

We never told anyone there to do anything for the camera nor did we say a word to them. Sarah took off her shoes on her own, and in one scene they moved around in a circle without coaching so Dave could see the musicians or so he could be front and center.

Avakian: The guy I’m standing next to in the booth is Steve Sholes, the director of RCA’s pop music department. The guy I’m talking to without a jacket is Ben Rosner, an RCA promotion man. He’s probably the one who got Dave the audition, and Steve probably set up the session. [Photo from left, Steve Sholes, George Avakian and Ben Rosner]

Pennebaker: As I was filming, I found myself most interested in Sarah, the African-American singer. There was something about her that was intriguing. My camera tended to be on Sarah. Desmond’s camera wound up on Mary Vonnie.

Mary Vonnie: Back in 1964, I had just graduated from high school in New York when a friend who knew Dave told me Dave was looking for singers to start a vocalese quintet. My friend thought of me because he had heard me fooling around singing Annie Ross’s solos in school.

I was very familiar with Lambert, Hendricks & Ross. I said I’d love to do it, so my friend arranged a meeting. I auditioned at Dave’s apartment, where I was hired and met the other singers. Dave didn’t say much when we rehearsed. He taught us to sing like an instrument. I was a trumpet. He was a sax. He taught us syncopation and how to sing just before or just after the beat.

We did some gigs in and out of town to get started. Some of them were at clubs in upstate New York, near Niagara Falls. I remember we went out in a boat to see the falls.

Then came the audition at RCA. As we all drove over that day, Dave was cheerful as usual and not noticeably anxious. We recorded six songs—Individualist Waltz, Think of Me, Leaving, Old Folks, Blow the Man Down and Comfy Cozy. All except Old Folks were written by Dave.

Standing around the microphone, each of us sang our parts and kept it tight with the other singers. It’s kind of an inside-outside focus of attention. You have to be very intent on precision but at the same time blending with the others while riding the music.

I don’t know what happened with the audition and why we didn’t get a chance to make a record. Dave never explained the outcome. I guess I assumed we’d just do another demo, but we never did. I do know that the group didn’t have any official breakup. I think we were on hold for a while. I’m sure Dave would have followed up with other record companies if he could, but he might have been sick or out of commission at some point. I know he really wanted to do an album featuring his own compositions.

Avakian: I’m not sure why the audition didn’t result in an album. I think the reason was that Dave didn’t have enough new original material for a full 12-inch LP. At any rate, the decision to do the album would have been Steve’s. I was in charge of the overall A&R department at RCA, but Steve was in charge of the pop division. I wouldn’t have overruled him or stood in the way of what he thought was best.

Pennebaker: I have no idea why it didn’t happen. They may have disagreed over whether it should be a series of singles or an album. Or perhaps RCA didn’t see the commercial value. Either way, it was sad.

Vonnie: Dave was such a pleasure to work with, always funny and laid back and amazingly gifted. He was an inspiration to all of us, not only for his outstanding musicianship but the way he was able to make magic happen while teaching us his songs. It seemed like the sound he wanted was effortlessly transmitted direct from his head into our voices. To this day I remember the songs and I sing them or parts of them from time to time.

Pennebaker: Dave was killed in October ‘66 helping a guy change a flat on a Connecticut highway. It was terrible news. After Dave died, Art D’Lugoff, who owned New York’s Village Gate nightclub, held a benefit there. I couldn’t go. Someone knew we had shot the film and asked if they could show it. But we never edited the film after Dave was turned down by RCA.

Nick and I edited all the film and got it to the lab for a print the next morning. After Art showed the film, a guy came to me, a reporter from Germany, and said he’d seen the film and liked it and wanted to take it back to Europe. So we gave him a print.

Vonnie: The last time I saw Audition at RCA was at a memorial for Dave in 1966 at the Village Gate. I will never forget the great time we had together.

Pennebaker: At the end of the film, we saw them off. They all went home and we went home. The people in the studio, the “hutch rabbits,” stayed in the studio.

Vonnie: In the years that followed, I was in a theater company in Los Angeles called The Colony that staged performances at the Studio Theatre Playhouse. Then I was in a completely different field, working with people to enhance their lives. Today, when I listen to music, I like the Klazz Brothers, and I love Latin and salsa, which I learned to dance to at the Palladium in New York.

Dee Lambert: Though I lost my dad’s manuscripts for the original songs you hear in the film in a fire in 1979, I did have transcriptions made from the originals and filed copyrights for them. I have lead sheets of the songs as arranged, as well as take-downs done by a Los Angeles service (from the soundtrack of the film).

Pennebaker: Our cameras loved Dave’s group because they so obviously loved what they were doing. Each of the singers was so different. Sarah and Mary loved Dave, and each of the singers had their own spirit. They were the wild rabbits and they didn’t give a shit about anything.

JazzWax note: Mary Vonnie and David Lucas are still with us. Dave Lambert died in 1966. Leslie Dorsey became a cab driver in Boston and was killed in a robbery in 1988 (go here). I couldn’t find much on Sarah Boatner, the daughter of composer Edward Boatner and half-sister to Sonny Stitt.

JazzWax clips: Here are five of the six songs recorded that day, including Old Folks which was cut from the final film...

Here’s Individualist Waltz...

Here’s Think of Me...

Here’s Leaving...

Here’s Old Folks...

And here’s Comfy Cozy...

To read more about Dave Lambert, his daughter, Dee, remembers her dad here.

Thank goodness for Europe. Without the intellectual-minded TV producers and movie directors there in the late 1950s and 1960s. we would never have as much film as we do of the artists we love most. [Photo above, from left, Dave Lambert, Annie Ross and Jon Hendricks of Lambert, Hendricks & Ross, courtesy of Getty Images]

And thank goodness for YouTube for providing a home for that footage so the world can view them and be better educated on the genius of jazz artists’ exceptional talents.

In June 1962, the Count Basie Band was on tour in England with singers O.C. Smith, Irene Reed, and Lambert, Hendricks & Ross. Each member of LH&R had pioneered vocalese—substituting vocals with nifty lyrics for jazz instrumental solos.

Collectively, through their commercial success and visibility, LH&R also helped change perceptions of integrated groups during the Civil Rights era.

By June 1962, Ross had left the group and was living in her native London—where she would open the club Annie’s Room in 1964. While Basie was touring in England, she agreed to jump in.

Ross had faced problems with U.S. officials over her heroin habit and failure to finalize her green card for naturalization. She was replaced in the U.S. in May 1962 by Yolande Bavan.

On June 6, the band and its special guests taped an hour-long set on ITV Granada in London. The program was broadcast on June 8 in northwest England and the Isle of Man, between Great Britain and Ireland.

LH&R’s recording relationship with Basie began in 1957, when they recorded Sing a Song of Basie. Produced by Creed Taylor for the ABC Paramount label, the record featured LH&R taking well-known Basie recordings and, through multi-tracking, vocalese lyrics—with Ross handling the trumpets, Hendricks the saxes and Lambert the trombones. In effect, LH&R became a vocal version of the Count Basie Band.

The album was released in 1958 and nominated for a Grammy in 1959. In 1998, the album was inducted into the Grammy Hall of Fame. In a moment, three videos featuring LH&R at their peak, with Count Basie on piano off-camera and Charles “Ike” Isaacs on bass and Sonny Payne on drums.

To read my interview with Jon Hendricks, go here.

To read my interview with Dee Lambert on her father, Dave, go here.

And to read my interview with Yolande Bavan, go here.

Now the YouTube videos…

Here’s LH&R singing Frank Foster’s 1961 updating of Buck Clayton’s arrangement of his 1945 composition Avenue C…

Here’s Bob Mersey’s arrangement of J. Mayo Williams’s composition Rusty, Dusty Blues, made famous by Basie in 1943…

Here’s Buck Clayton’s arrangement of Basie trumpeter Ed Lewis’s composition It’s Sand Man, first recorded in 1942…

Bonus: Here’s O.C. Smith with Lambert Hendricks & Ross and Count Basie and his rhythm section off-camera…

Here they are in July 1961 at the Antibes International Jazz Festival in France singing Everyday I Have the Blues…

And here’s Lambert, Hendricks & Bavan on Jazz Casual, aired in February 1963, with Gildo Mahones (p), George Tucker (b), Jimmie Smith (d) and Pony Poindexter (ss), singing This Could Be the Start of Something Big…

On Nov. 17, 1965, WGN-TV in Chicago televised Julie: Something Special, an hour-long musical-variety show starring jazz vocalist Julie London. Produced by WGN, the show was re-broadcast later on stations such as WOR-TV in New York and KTLA-TV in Los Angeles. [Photo above of Julie London]

That year, London had released four albums on the Liberty label—Our…

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A few months ago, two clips went up on YouTube that have been licensed by the U.K.’s ITV. They feature Count Basie and His Band, with appearances by blues shouter Jimmy Rushing and vocalist Sarah Vaughan, backed by her trio. [Photo above of Sarah Vaughan and Count Basie, courtesy of Getty Images]

Both artists were at their peak, and their sterling perfor…

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Of the many female jazz singers who emerged in the second half of the 1950s, Beverly Kenney was perhaps the most precious and fragile. Between 1955 and 1959, the New York singer made six albums—three for Roost and three for Decca. She was backed by leading arrangers and players, and she developed something of a cult following in the years that followed. [Photo above of Beverly Kenney in a recording studio]

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On May 7, 1971, the Count Basie Orchestra performed live in Tilburg, the Netherlands, at the city’s concert venue Pellikaanhal,. Ella Fitzgerald was the featured guest vocalist. [Photo above of Ella Fitzgerald in 1971]

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Remarkable is the only way to describe Oscar Peterson in December 1974. The jazz pianist was at the top of his playing prowess, which was always the case when Peterson performed. But on the BBC One’s Omnibus TV series, when André Previn interviewed him, the pianist exceeded even his own dazzling reputation.

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In late February and early March 1970, the Bill Evans Trio was in Scandinavia for a brief tour. One of the stops was the home of Finnish composer Ilkka Kuusisto in Helsinki, Finland. Another was a club in Sweden, probably in Stockholm. I know the performance took place around the same time because the playlist Evans used at the Swedish club is identical to the one in Kuusisto’s living room. [Photo above of Bill Evans in early 1970]

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Seventy years ago, in 1956, Elvis Presley began his rise to become America’s biggest recording and movie star. He wasn’t the first to become a national music sensation. Pop superstardom had begun with Bing Crosby in the 1930s and then Frank Sinatra in the 1940s. Elvis’s personal sacrifices were even more monumental. [Photo above of Elvis Presley courtesy of Ebay]

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Once World War II ended in 1945, Hollywood set to work on films centered on soldiers returning home. These included The Best Years of Our Lives (1946), Till the End of Time (1946), The Razor’s Edge (1946), Nobody Lives Forever (1946), Crossfire (1947), Dead Reckoning (1947) and Ride the Pink Horse (1947). Most were somber, fictional examinations of marital re-adjustment, the struggle for normalcy and coping with PTSD. [Photo above of Frank Sinatra on the Brooklyn Bridge in the summer of 1946 during the filming of It Happened in Brooklyn]

One of them was a romantic comedy—It Happened in Brooklyn (1947), starring Frank Sinatra, Kathryn Grayson, Peter Lawford and Jimmy Durante. In one famous scene, a freshly repatriated Sinatra rushes onto the Brooklyn Bridge, still in uniform, to sing of his happiness to be back home in Brooklyn.

Research shows that MGM’s production on It Happened in Brooklyn began on July 22, 1946, adding a second production stretch from September through November. The bridge is listed as one of the film’s official shooting locations, but no specific date has been found. So when exactly was he on the bridge filming the famous scene?

Estimates narrow the date to sometime between late July and August 1946, when the film’s New York location work would wrap and the production then moved to Culver City, Calif., for studio scenes. [Photos above of MGM filming Frank Sinatra on the Brooklyn Bridge in the summer of 1946]

As it turns out, Sinatra was on the Brooklyn Bridge only for a handful of shots. MGM combined actual location photography with the studio vocal of The Brooklyn Bridge, which he had recorded on June 6, 1946. Director Richard Whorf needed him on the bridge for just a handful of distance shots, one of the few MGM musicals of the period to use authentic New York locations v. a studio set.

On the bridge, Sinatra likely sang The Brooklyn Bridge a cappella or to his June recording played through speakers near the cameras. The sound you hear is the June 1946 studio recording. Many of the close-ups of Sinatra and more technically demanding shots were likely shot on the MGM lot in California, where lighting and sound could be controlled.

You’ll notice that Sinatra spends a good amount of time against railings, next to suspension cables and bridge elements rather than actually strolling the pedestrian walkway. These tight shots create the impression the entire scene was shot on the bridge. Welcome to the magic of movie-making.

So, 80 years later, here’s Sinatra on the Brooklyn Bridge, likely early on a warm summer Sunday morning, lip-syncing The Brooklyn Bridge for It happened in Brooklyn. The song was by Sammy Cahn (lyrics) and Jule Styne (music), and was released on a 78 in April 1947, shortly after the April 7 release of the film. See the clip that follows below for the flip side of the 78…

Here’s the The Same Old Dream (also Cahn and Styne). Out of uniform, Sinatra takes a job at a Brooklyn music shop playing piano for young customers considering buying sheet music. He was 31 at the time and, in the film, after years in the war, his character is out of touch with the hip younger set that had emerged, though he eventually wins them over with his crooning version…

Paul Desmond’s finest work was with the Dave Brubeck Quartet, from 1951 to 1967, followed by his quartet albums with guitarist Jim Hall, between 1959 and 1965. Coming in third for me would be the alto saxophonist’s recordings with his Canadian quartet in 1975 and ‘76. [Photo above of Paul Desmond on the CBC, courtesy of YouTube]

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Like many major Northern cities that became a refuge for black families escaping Southern poverty and racism in the late 1930s and ‘40s, Detroit quickly developed as a music center. In the 1940s, the city was a jazz hothouse of young musicians and clubs. Then came R&B in the 1950s and finally soul in the 1960s.

Last year, The Best of the Best From Detroi…

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I’m sure you’ve seen Jazz on a Summer’s Day, the 1959 documentary directed by Aram Avakian and Bert Stern, and filmed at the 1958 Newport Jazz Festival. The color feature was a breakthrough for jazz. For the first time, audiences were given a vivid taste of what top jazz talent looked and sounded like in a bucolic setting.

I’m also betting that you’ve …

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If there were a Mount Rushmore honoring jazz tenor saxophonists, you’d likely see the faces of Coleman Hawkins, Lester Young, Sonny Rollins, John Coltrane and Ben Webster. Each had a distinct style that changed the personality of the instrument. [Photo above of Ben Webster]

Hawkins had a gruff attack, improvising up and down a song’s chord changes; Young…

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Surf rock influenced garage rock of the 1960s, hard rock of the early 1970s, American punk of the mid- and late 1970s and heavy metal of the 1980s.

The genre was a euphoric, early-’60s instrumental genre born in Southern California that favored twangy electric guitars and galloping beats instead of vocals and romantic themes. The first major surf-rock hi…

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My favorite live Frank Sinatra performance is his April 21, 1962 outdoor concert held in Tokyo. Sinatra had a swinging studio jazz combo behind him on stage: Emil Richards on vibes, Al Viola on guitar, Harry Klee on flute and saxophone, Bill Miller on piano, Ralph Peña on bass and Irv Cottler on drums. [Photo above of Frank Sinatra performing in Tokyo …

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By the late 1960s, psychedelia finally caught up with the big bands. As free love, rock albums and hippie fashion permeated the youth culture, band leaders still touring started feeling groovy. Some experimented with LSD and mushrooms while others limited their embrace of the youth scene to fashion. All commissioned arrangements of new pop-rock hits. [P…

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The year is 1962. It’s a chilly day in early October, John F. Kennedy is in the White House, the Cuban Missile Crisis wouldn’t begin until the 16th, and a train from Stockholm, Sweden, pulls into the København H train station in Copenhagen, Denmark. [Photo still above of Dexter Gordon]

Stepping off is Swedish baritone saxophonist Lars Gullin. On the plat…

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João Donato (1934-2023) was one of Brazil’s most lyrical jazz and bossa nova pianists and composers. He came up in the 1950s at the same time as Antonio Carlos Jobim, who was seven years older than Donato, along with the first generation of bossa nova composer-performers. Once you’ve heard Donato’s piano and seen his smile, you’ll want to own every albu…

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