As JazzWax readers know, I'm fairly picky about my Oscar Peterson albums. I find the pianist most spectacular when the song choices are spot-on and he's completely in the pocket and swinging. In other words, when I suddenly realize my right foot is tapping. Girl Talk is one of those Peterson albums. The second volume in the German MPS label's "Exclusively for My Friends" series, Girl Talk was recorded between 1965 and 1968 and released in '68. The series was culled from private concerts in front of a small audience in the home studio of Hans Georg Brunner-Schwer, owner of MPS. [Photo above of Oscar Peterson]
Songs on the album are a snappy On a Clear Day; a marathon-length I'm in the Mood for Love that runs 17:22; a bluesy Girl Talk; a medley of I Concentrate on You and Moon River; and a rollicking Robbins' Nest with a walking bass line. Bassist Ray Brown is on Robbins' Nest and I Concentrate on You/Moon River; Sam Jones is on bass on I'm in the Mood for Love; Bobby Durham plays drums on On a Clear Day; and drummer Louis Hayes is on I'm In The Mood For Love, Robbins' Nest and I Concentrate On You/Moon River.
While one might question whether the two songs chosen for the medley were ideal, the other tracks are so juicy and robust that the album is irresistible. And the truth is that in the spring, when it rains in New York like it did last night, I need my Oscar Peterson. [Photo above of Oscar Peterson and others listening back to a recording at MPS Studios in Germany courtesy of the private archive of Hans Brunner-Schwer]
Oscar Peterson died in 2007 at 82.
JazzWax tracks: You'll find Oscar Peterson's Girl Talkhere.
InThe Wall Street Journal last week, I interviewed Jane Birkin for my "House Call" column in the Mansion section (go here). In the 1960s, Jane was an icon, the face of Swinging London as a model, stage and film actress, and romantic partner of Serge Gainsbourg. The "Birkin style" is still a look today. During our conversation, we talked about her London childhood, her deep love for her parents, the pain of boarding school and the trip to Italy she took with her father, where her life changed.
Here's Jane with Serge Gainsbourg singing Je t'ame in 1969. Their albums together are intense, sexy and move in slow motion. Worth exploring are Jane Birkin/Serge Gainsbourg (1969) and Histoire de Melody Nelson (1971)...
And here's the story behind the Hermès Birkin bag, which was named for her...
Joy Marshall. Last week, following my posts on singer Joy Marshall (here and here), I received the following from Roger Cotterrell in London:
Hello Marc, what a fascinating post! Joy Marshall is almost forgotten here as a singer, but the legend of her personal life lives on in published memoirs. Perhaps you know of Peter King’s autobiography "Flying High: A Jazz Life and Beyond" (Northway, 2011). If so, you know that he tells the story of his stormy, doomed marriage to Joy in full, rather harrowing detail. Her relationship with Tubby Hayes set up a situation between the two saxophonists, which was hard on King since he played regularly in Tubby’s big band. Their situation rippled around the jazz scene here then.
You are right to say that Peter was "nearly emotionally destroyed" by his marriage to Joy. One problem is that at the time, he was as personally fragile as she was. My wife and I knew him well in the last years of his life. You are certainly right about her musical talent, and it is good that you have drawn attention to it.
Whenever she gets mentioned here now, usually only in passing in histories of modern jazz in Britain, she's often cited as a negative influence because of her self-destructive personality. Thanks for seeing a more positive side of the picture. It is certainly welcome. Best wishes, and thanks as ever for your always interesting blog.
Jim Hall's wife, Jane, wrote me last week after I posted my interview with Bill Evans, the dancer, on his late-'70s performances with the Bil Evans Trio:
Marc, speaking of sitting on piano benches, many years ago, Duke Ellington’s band was playing for dancers at New York's Rainbow Room. Jim [Hall] and I went, along with Mort and Judy Lindsay. It was my birthday. I was young and fearless then and possibly tipsy when I sat down next to Duke as he was playing. He was great, smiled and we chatted a bit about Ben Webster and Cottontail. Ben was living in Sweden or Denmark then and was a friend of ours.
Anyway, your recent interview about Bill Evans and the dancer Bill, who sat next to him briefly at the piano on stage before dancing to "Waltz for Debby" reminded me of that time. I blush thinking about it now. Years later we met Duke at the White House and he remembered the bench incident. I was astounded. A great man!
PS: Regarding your Wayne Shorter post, I thought you'd enjoy this trio performance at Montreux in 1987 featuring Jim, Wayne and Michel Petrucciani...
Bobby Shew. Danilo Morandi in Switzerland sent along a link to a clip of superb trumpeter Bobby Shew playing Clifford Brown's Joy Spring via Zoom with the Western Illinois Jazz Studio Orchestra [photo above of Bobby Shew courtesy of Summit Records]...
FM Radio Archive will keep you busy for days. It features live recordings broadcast over the radio. Last week, I heard from Kim Paris at the archive:
Marc, thanks for mentioning FM Radio Archive a few weeks ago. I wanted you to let you know that Raoul van Hall has been kind enough to share some of his Jazz From the Left broadcasts with me on Northern California Public Media. You'll find them here.
Hot Lips Page radio. On Sunday (May 9), from 2 to 7 p.m. (ET), Sid Gribetz will present a five-hour radio special celebrating the career of trumpeter and vocalist Hot Lips Page on “Jazz Profiles” on WKCR-FM in New York. Listen from anywhere in the world by going here.
New York foodies. Ever wonder the lengths to which some New Yorkers will go to find, eat and share the best food in the city? Last week I stumbled across just such a food fanatic's daily blog. At Instagram, go to @feedingolivia. Youll find fizzy content and pro-level photos so sumptuous you'll be trying to order from places cited. For example, here's how the dish above is described: "Go to @wuswontonking for their duck buns and wonton noodle soup, but don’t miss their Dungeness crab, battered and deep-fried to a golden crisp and adorned with salty garlic bits."
For daily posts, just click the image in the circle. The slide show will begin. If you want to stop on a page, click on the page on your computer or, on your phone, hold the page with your thumb. Want to go back? Click or tap the left side of the photo. Avoid reading if you haven't eaten yet. More photos and content? Here ya go...
Cacio e pepe at the Leopard. The most perfect meal tonight at @theleopardnyc. Thank you @jordanfrosolone for spoiling us and making tonight so memorable!
I will think about tonight’s lemon meringue from @nycprimerib for a very long time. [Photos above courtesy of @feedingolivia]
Wayne Shorter remains one of America's most fascinating living jazz legends. His sound on the tenor saxophone in the 1960s and '70s was muscular, hypnotic and so evocative of the era. His original compositions remain relevant, with their yearning, political undertow and modal scales. [Photo above of Wayne Shorter by Francis Wolf (c)Mosaic Images]
So it's puzzling that there are so few YouTube clips of him live in the 1960s leading his own groups and playing his own music. Part of this is a result of him spending most of his time in the Miles Davis Quintet. He probably didn't tour much for his Blue Note albums such as Juju (1965) and Speak No Evil (1966). [Photo above of Wayne Shorter by Francis Wolf (c)Mosaic Images]
But there's another matter. Unless an artist toured in Europe back then, there's probably very little footage of that artist today. Jazz was rarely captured on camera in the U.S., except it appeared on dopey variety shows or sponsored specials. That's because American television has always been advertiser driven. In Europe, where the governments owned television (and radio) and subsidized programming, jazz was routinely taped for a range of programming. Europe recognized the genius of jazz and documented it. America, sadly, did not.
Here's what I could find of Shorter in the '60s with the Miles Davis Quintet in concert abroad:
Here's the Miles Davis Quintet—Miles Davis (tp), Wayne Shorter (ts), Herbie Hancock (p), Ron Carter (b) and Tony Williams (d) in Stockholm in 1963 playing Agitation...
Here's the Miles Davis Quintet in Milan in 1964 playing Autumn Leaves...
Here's the Miles Davis Quintet in Sweden in 1967 playing Wayne Shorter's Footprints...
Here's the Miles Davis Quintet on the same date and location playing 'Round Midnight...
And here's the Miles Davis Quintet in Antibes, France, in 1969 playing Milestones, Footprints and 'Round Midnight. This quintet featured Miles Davis (tp), Wayne Shorter (ts,ss), Chick Corea (el-p), Dave Holland (b) and Jack DeJohnette (d)...
Earlier this week, I posted on jazz-pop vocalist Joy Marshall, who moved to London in 1962, married, divorced and remained there until her untimely death in 1968. David Chilver in London sent along a link to the following clip of Marshall in the Netherlands in 1965 on Dutch television. First we hear Yesterdays, a solo by Rob Madna on piano backed by the Frans de Kok Orchestra. Then Marshall sings It's All Right With Me. She's backed by the orchestra featuring Jerry van Rooyen (tp), Herman Schoonderwalt (as), Rob Madna (p), Ruud Jacobs (b) and Cees See (d). [Image above from a German trading card]
To Bill Evans, the Seattle modern dancer, choreographer and performer, it seemed like a stretch, but why not, he thought. An admirer of Bill Evans, the jazz pianist, the dancer asked him in 1978 if he and his trio would collaborate on a dance program featuring the pianist's music. Much to his delight, the pianist was open and willing. Evans, the pianist, had actually performed with a dancer previously. [Photo above of dancer Bill Evans by Jim Dusen]
What followed were two dance programs at the University of Washington separated by a year—Double Bill in 1978 and Mixing It Up in 1979, featuring the Bill Evans Trio and the Bill Evans Dance Company. The pianist was so pleased with the outcomes he was eager for a third and planned to take the dance company with him to Tokyo. [Photo above, from left, of Bill Evans, Michael Moore and Philly Joe Jones]
As you may recall, I recently posted on Double Bill in late April. Since then, I interviewed Bill on his dance performance with the Bill Evans Trio in the late 1970s, how he approached the pianist and how they worked together on stage. At the end of the interview, there are videos of both performances. Images of programs below courtesy of the Evans Somatic Dance Institute.
Here's our conversation from late April:
JazzWax: In 1978, you went to see Bill Evans perform solo at Parnell’s Jazz Club in Seattle. Did you go to hear him play or to approach him about collaborating with you? Bill Evans: Both. We shared the same name. Before and after I started my dance company, I toured as a solo dancer and called my show Bill Evans in Concert. All of my promotional materials included a photograph of me dancing, but the performance title was just Bill Evans In Concert. Every now and then someone would show up at the box office thinking they were coming to hear Bill Evans, the jazz pianist. There were times when I’d arrive in a city on tour, open the paper and we’d both be appearing in town.
JW: What did you think? BE: That always fascinated me. Of course, I was familiar with his albums. Then one day in ’78, I read he was coming to Seattle to play solo at Parnell's. I thought it would be fun to go hear him and approach him after to see if he’d be interested in collaborating with me and my dance company.
JW: What happened? BE: I went and heard him play the first set. Then I walked up to him and introduced myself. He was still seated, lingering at the piano. I introduced myself and told him how people had sometimes come to my shows thinking they were going to hear him perform. He laughed. I asked if he’d like to join me for dinner. So he did, right there at Parnell’s.
JW: So you’re just a complete stranger to him at this point, yes? BE: Absolutely. He'd never heard of me, as far as I knew. We had dinner between sets. I asked if he had ever worked with a modern dancer before. He said he had, with Carmen de Lavallade, in the early ‘70s when she was teaching at Yale. I gathered it was a brief and very pleasant experience for him. That’s the only time he said he had worked with a dancer.
JW: Did he know your reputation as a West Coast pioneer of modern dance? BE: I don't think he realized anything, but he seemed very respectful and treated me like a colleague, not a fan. I told him the possible times when my company would be in Seattle rather than on tour. We picked a target date when my company would be at Meany Theater at the University of Washington, which is a great venue for dance and music.
JW: He could have been polite and said he didn’t have the time. BE: His collaboration with Carmen had been positive, and based on that one experience, collaborating with me was compelling.
JW: Once he agreed, what did you say? BE: I said, “Well, we have to figure out what we have in common. Where should we start?” We started talking, and I told him I’d developed a dance technique that tries to get the greatest reward for the smallest expenditure of energy. To me that's good technique, when you do nothing more than what’s required to accomplish the movement. He said that was his belief too.
JW: What did you think he meant by that? BE: I've worked with many, many jazz musicians. A good number of them move luxuriously when they play, but Bill barely moved. He hunkered over the keyboard, and you could barely tell he was moving. Even his hands moved minimally. My thought was he was bonding with the instrument and becoming part of it and doing nothing more than just playing.
JW: What an interesting observation. BE: He just lifts exactly the right sound out of the instrument that he wants. So we agreed that that was something we had in common. We didn't pursue that idea, but at least we found that we had a commonality.
JW: He must have asked what sort of time commitment he'd have to make to the collaboration, yes? BE: Yes, he did. I'd already listened to several of his recordings. I said, "I’d like to do a program that runs about a half hour. I've chosen a few of your recordings, including Peace Piece and Waltz for Debby.” I told him I’d choreograph a work to those recordings and then he could arrive a day or two in advance for a few rehearsals. I said all he had to do was duplicate his recordings as closely as possible.
JW: What did he say? BE: He said, "No problem." He said that while he could do that for Waltz for Debby and the others, Peace Piece would be a little tricky. At that point, he had not performed it live yet. The point being that every time he played the song, it was vastly different.
JW: What was your response? BE: I said, "OK, well, we'll just keep that in mind." And so my choreography for Peace Piece was open-ended. On the other pieces—Waltz for Debby, Epilogue, Very Early, Epilogue and The Two Lonely People—he was able to duplicate pretty much the number of choruses, the length and tempi he'd used on those recordings.
JW: Who was with him when he came to Seattle two days before the performances on March 17 and 18, 1978? BE: He arrived with bassist Michael Moore and drummer Philly Joe Jones.
JW: Where did you rehearse? BE: We went into one of the dance studios at the University of Washington, with windows overlooking the water. When the company ran through everything with the Bill Evans Trio the first time, it was like magic. It just worked. All eight dancers in my company were on a tremendous high. Bill was an extraordinary musician and just being in his presence raised the level of intensity and excitement. The trio was extraordinary.
JW: Did Evans have any suggestions? BE: No. He was willing to just follow along. All three of them were completely open to any suggestions we made. They were willing to adapt.
JW: What did you ask of them? BE: Not much. They were so sharp that they took it all in immediately. Bill understood instantly what we needed from him. It was smooth and easy and so wonderfully enjoyable.
JW: How did you choreograph these songs? BE: Much in the way jazz musicians work. I choreographed a part of it and then part of it we improvised. Once I had introduced a movement motif of several choruses, the dancers were free to improvise on those motifs within my choreography. I had a wonderful company of dancers at the time. The dancers were very courageous and loved to improvise.
JW: What was the audience reaction? BE: We were completely sold out. The audience went wild for it. They knew it was a collaborative performance. We had advertised it that way. We called our first collaborative performance Double Bill. First we performed our pieces Tin-Tal and Within Bounds. Then there was an intermission. Then the trio came out and we performed Double Bill. There was another intermission and just my company came back and performed Jukebox, set to the recordings of Glenn Miller.
JW: At the start of Double Bill, you're sitting next to Evans on the piano bench, yes? BE: Yeah. I sat there while he played Waltz for Debby. As he played, I stood up and danced alone for a while. Then my company slowly came in behind the musicians.
JW: I don't think anybody in Evans’s career ever sat on the bench while he played. I think you hold that distinction. BE: (Laughs) I had collaborated with jazz musicians before Bill, but I had never been around someone who had such a refined sense of hearing. He seemed to hear every little nuance of sound I made when I danced—foot sounds or breathing sounds—and he seemed to be responding to them in a way that no one else ever had. It felt as if we were having a conversation. He was responding to what I was doing. He wasn't just letting me dance to his music. There was a dialogue taking place.
JW: While you're sitting on the bench with Bill playing, you’re just watching and listening? BE: Yeah. As I watched, I thought it was fascinating that he moved so little and yet created such a full, rich sound.
JW: What happened after the performance? BE: We all went out to dinner at a Chinese restaurant—the trio and the dancers. We talked about the experience. The dancers were all stunned. It was such a high for them, for all of us, dancing to Bill’s music. The dancers were telling the trio what a pleasure it was to work with them. Philly Joe was the most outgoing and more talkative than Bill and Michael.
JW: Waltz for Debby is like the song in a child’s music box in which a little plastic ballerina dances a pirouette. Your dancing brought that aspect of the song to life. BE: Now that we're talking about it, I've got it playing in my head and it always gives me a lot of pleasure. It's such a lovely melody. When I’ve taught technique classes, half the work we do in the class is in 3/4 time. I liked the circularity that it brings into the body. So I love dancing to a waltz
JW: Any thoughts about the trio during those two days? BE: Just how gracious he and Michael and Philly Joe were and how easy it was to work with them. It wasn't something we had to reach for. It seemed so natural and felt right.
JW: You and Evans collaborated again on October 6 and 7, 1979, yes? BE: Yes. The whole evening was with Bill and his trio then—bassist Marc Johnson and drummer Joe LaBarbera. The program opened with a set by the Bill Evans Trio. Then we reprised Double Bill. The dancers were dressed in all white and we danced on a white floor. Then there was an intermission. When we came back, the floor was turned over so it was black and we were dressed in black. Then we performed a program we called Mixing It Up.
JW: What did Mixing It Up consist of? BE: I had taken recordings Bill had made of songs composed by others. We used the same formula. I told him which recordings I was using, and I created a sequence from one to the next. We performed John Carisi's Israel; Cole Porter's After You; our original improv called Craps; Bronislau Kaper's Hi-Lilli, Hi-Lo and Irving Berlin's How Deep Is the Ocean.
JW: How did you handle Craps? BE:Craps was new. I choreographed it in 7/4 time. Bill sat that one out while Marc and Joe improvised in 7/4 time by watching the dancers. It was so wonderful. We performed Mixing It Up for a few years after that with the recording we made that night. I still use the recording of Craps when I restage the work.
JW: Did Evans like collaborating with you? BE: He really did, especially after the second program in '79. The audience would not stop applauding for 10 or 15 minutes. It was extraordinary how much the audience loved it. So Bill and I agreed to collaborate for a third time. We even planned to use a red floor. [Photo above, from left, of Bill Evans, Joe LaBarbera and Marc Johnson in 1979]
JW: Was Evans excited? BE: He was. He said, "We’ll take it to Tokyo,” because he had a such a huge following there. We made plans and we were talking with his manager, Helen Keane. Then he died in September 1980.
JW: Makes you wonder what would have happened had you asked him five years earlier. BE: That’s true. He had given us permission to perform Double Bill and Mixing It Up, so we made recordings of the music during the 1979 performance. We took Mixing It Up on national tours for two or three years afterward. Wherever we went, people loved it.
JW: What’s your impression of your time with Evans? BE: It was a career high point. We did something extraordinary. I'm so sorry he passed when he did. He was genuinely excited. It was a new dimension for both of us, for Bill as a trio leader to see dancers inspired by his music and for me, to choreograph his music. In both cases, the performances were on our terms, as we felt it should be.
JW: What’s the legacy? BE: In 2007, the dance department at the Cornish College of the Arts in Seattle asked me to revive Mixing It Up, the collaboration with Bill, Marc and Joe. So I did. The Cornish music faculty brought in Joe LaBarbera to coach the student musicians because he'd been part of the original collaboration. While we were both working on it, Joe and I did a performance together. It was another highlight of my life. Working with him was a joy and reminded me of that glorious night in October 1979.
JazzWax clips:Here'sDouble Bill in 1978, including Bill's solo dance to Peace Piece...
And here'sMixing It Up in1980, using a recording of the Bill Evans Trio playing during the original performance in 1979. Bill Evans, Marc Johnson and Joe LaBarbera gave the dance company permission to record and use the music in future performances. This performance occurred on September 2, 1980, 13 days before the pianist's death...
Throughout the 1960s, American singer Joy Marshall was an accomplished jazz-pop vocalist who was and remains virtually unknown in the U.S. Her anonymity here has much to do with her relocation to London in June 1962, at age 25. Marshall said in interviews there that she never considered herself a jazz singer, though her pop recordings clearly have a jazz feel. Sort of a combination of Mary Wells and Carmen McRae. Every song she took on cooked.
Smitten by the States and all things American, the British press raved about Marshall's club performances, which were indeed legendary. Yet she only recorded one U.K. studio album in England in 1965—Who Says They Don't Write Good Songs Anymore? for British Decca. She also recorded too few singles for much of the decade on assorted labels. This paucity of vinyl may be a result of her caustic personality and off-stage social life, which has been described as "wild," "out of control" and "hedonistic." In short, she was a handful. All of which is a shame, as you'll soon hear. She should have recorded dozens of albums and many more singles. [Photo above of Joy Marshall on a moving sidewalk in Leeds in March 1964 by Roy Spencer]
Born in New York, Marshall developed her chops in church. During the 1950s, she was in the Navy as a singer in an armed forces big band. After her discharge, steady club work helped her develop a singular style, technique and repertoire. But as she watched other Black pop singers such as Aretha Franklin, Nancy Wilson, Dakota Staton and Diahann Carroll get recording contracts and super-club breaks, her promise dimmed. One evening in '62, while appearing at San Francisco's Purple Onion, a New Zealand executive, Royston Marker, convinced her to relocate to London where, he said, she'd get a fair shake and a fresh start.
Once there in 1962, Marshall married saxophonist Peter King (not Ronnie Scott's jazz-club partner). But their mismatched relationship devolved into a stormy battle over sex and drugs. After she left King, who was nearly emotionally destroyed, she began dating Tubby Hayes. Instead of recording albums, Marshall appeared often on BBC radio, on TV and at clubs all over the U.K. and Europe.
It's rare that I can listen to a singer's entire output and love everything that comes on. Marshall is an exception. It's her way of curling around a song and squeezing. The arrangements were always tasteful and perfectly matched to her hip, smooth delivery. Thanks to her confidence, singular way of interpreting a pop hit and cool delivery, Marshall was a mainstay at posh establishments emerging in Swinging London, including the Playboy Club, the Latin Quarter and the Blue Angel.
Sadly, too few recordings by Marshall are available. She recorded 10 single sides between 1962 and '68. Then there's the Decca album mentioned above in 1965 and, finally, a collection of live dates with the stunning English pianist Gordon Beck in trio and quartet formats in 1966 and '68. By the way, the artist who made the group a quartet was guitarist John McLaughlin. A live appearance by Marshall on Britain's ATV with the Jack Parnell Orchestra in 1964 singing Hello Young Lovers recently surfaced. It, too, is gorgeous. And that's it.
In December 1968, shortly after her relationship with Tubby Hayes flamed out, Marshall met a guitarist at a club and the pair went to her place in Hammersmith. Pills and booze had been consumed to excess. The next morning, the guitarist awoke to find her dead. According to news reports, he called the police and then bolted before being questioned. The London coroner categorized the cause as death by "misadventure." Marshall was just 32.
Hopefully, additional collections of live material from TV, radio and clubs will surface. What we have is hardly sufficient given Marshall's enormous talent.
JazzWax tracks: You'll find When Sunny Gets Blue: Gordon Beck Quartet, Featuring Joy Marshall (Another Planet) here.
The singles can be found listed at Discogs.com and then heard on YouTube.
Here's the complete Who Says They Don't Write Good Songs Anymore?...
And here's the complete When Sunny Gets Blue album with Gordon Beck...
Bonus:There's footage of Joy Marshall singing at Mayfair's Blue Angel in an odd 1964 documentary called London in the Raw. Here's part of her performance at 00:47 seconds into the movie's trailer...
Flip Manne, Shelly Manne's wife, was born May 3, 1921 in Vermont, rode horses and took dance lessons from an early age. To celebrate her 100th birthday today, I decided to reprise an interview I did with her in 2015 on her background and her famed husband's career as a drummer. I've also added additional material Flip provided several years ago that didn't appear in the first interview. [Photo above of Flip Manne]
As background, Flip moved from Vermont to New York in 1939 and eventually took a job dancing at the Roxy Theatre. She soon auditioned at Radio City Music Hall and won a position in the fabled Rockettes. Back then, they danced in four shows daily. That's where she met her future husband, Shelly, in the early 1940s. Flip picks up the story from here (happy birthday Flip!):
JazzWax: How did you meet your husband Shelly? Flip Manne: World War II was in full swing, and the husband of one of my mates at Radio City Music Hall was going into the service. He played in the pit at the Music Hall and was one of the people who introduced Shelly to jazz. His wife threw her husband a going-away party and Shelly, who was already in the Coast Guard, came to the party with a date. After we were introduced, he took her home and came back to the party. We started dating after that. He was funny and always at the center of things. [Photo above of Shelly Manne]
JW: How did you get that cool nick-name? FM: When I was very young, I had several aunts named Florence, which is my birth name. They were all called Flo. For some reason I hated the name. My mother started calling me Flip Flop because I was always leaping around, long before I began taking dance classes. Eventually I dropped Flop.
JW: How did Shelly learn to play the drums? FM: Shelly's father was in an administrative position at Radio City Music Hall. He had been a percussionist. As a result, Shelly grew up in the Music Hall. At one point he was even an elevator operator backstage. Billy Gladstone, the legendary drummer in the pit band, was a close family friend. One day when Shelly was in the orchestra room, he expressed an interest in the drum set. Billy showed him how to hold the sticks. He put a Count Basie record on and told Shelly to play. Then he left the room. That was how Shelly started. Then he sat in with various groups. [Photo above of Flip Manne]
JW: Did he know how to read music? FM: Not at first. He taught himself to read. Up until then he had thought he might go into sports. He was a New York City cross-country champion in high school and at some point represented an athletic club in a table tennis tournament. [Photo of Flip Manne, center, in a dark rehearsal outfit]
JW: Did you go on the road with Shelly? FM: Oh sure. We were on the road with pianist Lou Stein and bassist Bob Carter, probably when they were all with Charlie Ventura and His Combo, in the late summer of '47. Bob Carter's real last name was Kahakalau. He was part Hawaiian. I was very fond of Lou's wife, Irene. She taught me to cook while we were in a hotel in Milwaukee. Trombonist Kai Winding and vocalist Buddy Stewart were on that band. That's where we first met Jackie and Roy Kral. Shelly played on their first album, Storyville Presents Jackie & Roy, in 1955.
JW: When did you and Shelly move to California? FM: We moved out to Los Angeles in 1951. We bought a plot of land in Northridge, in the San Fernando Valley, which was all we could afford. We built a one-bedroom house. The area was lovely then—all walnut and citrus trees. We had horses, dogs, cats and a big garden. [Photo above of Shelly Manne in 1953]
JW: When Shelly was with Stan Kenton, did you know vocalist June Christy? FM: Yes. She had a terrible start as a kid. Her father was an alcoholic who deserted her mother when she was little. She said she started working in clubs when she was 12 or 13. She also said she hated being on stage in revealing gowns. Whenever possible, she wore suits or had gowns made with long sleeves. She was already going with Coop [Bob Cooper] when Shelly came on the band.
JW: Were you close with her? FM: Not really. She didn't form close friendships with band wives. But she and Coop would come to dinner at our place after we moved to the Valley. The critics really ran her down for winning polls when Stan was hot. They'd write things like, "How can June win over Billie, Sarah and Ella?," as if she had any control over it. They said she sang flat, which wasn't true, and that she sang terrible tunes, which she didn't control either.
JW: Whose band did Shelly like playing in most—Stan Kenton's or Woody Herman's? FM: Stan's and Woody's bands were, of course, totally different. I never heard Shelly compare them. He liked both very much.
JW: Shelly was on drums in the Neal Hefti recording of Repetition with Charlie Parker in Carnegie Hall at the tail end of 1947. Were you there? FM: I was. I remember that Charlie Parker arrived at the hall late, the band was playing, he walked in, picked up his horn and started playing without warming up or anything.
JW: Which arrangers did Shelly dig most? FM: Shelly was very fond of Neal Hefti. He admired him a lot. Also, Johnny Mandel. He loved Van Alexander and was on one of his early bands.
JW: What did Shelly think about the West Coast-East Coast jazz rivalry? FM: Shelly wasn't happy about that. He was born in Manhattan, played everywhere, and thought it was an artificial division, a gimmick.
JW: Why did Shelly start Shelly's Manne-Hole in 1960, first at 1608 N. Cahuenga Blvd. and then on Wilshire Blvd. in '72 before closing it the following year? FM: He started the club to have a place where all of his friends could play, including the groups he led. While he had [co-owner] Rudy Onderwyser there every night, Shelly enjoyed it. I was never thrilled with the idea.
JW: Why not? FM: It took him away from home. He did make time to go to week-long horse shows several times a year with me—we both showed. Sometimes I was able to go to Europe or Japan with him on tours.
JW: Shelly had a stiff sitting style behind the drums. Did he have back problems? FM: He had extremely long legs and a very short body. He developed back trouble while on the road with Stan Kenton. One day he bent over to pick something up and sneezed. Something went out. His back bothered him a lot for years—that was before you'd see a chiropractor for such things. A doctor friend told him about one of the first acupuncturists to start a practice in L.A. We went to him and he worked on Shelly. The pain went away and never returned. All the doctors we saw had suggested a contraption for hanging yourself in a doorway or an eventual operation.
JW: What do you miss most about Shelly [who died in 1984 at 64]? FM: I'm going to skip that one. It's too painful.
JazzWax clips: Here's Shelly Manne and His Men in 1962 at Shelly's Manne-Hole playing Speak Low, with Shelly Manne (d), Conte Candoli (tp), Ritchie Kamuca (ts), Russ Freeman (p) and Monty Budwig (b)...
In The Wall Street Journal this week, I interviewed Oscar-winning composer and keyboardist Jon Batiste, bandleader on The Late Show With Stephen Colbert and a recording artist whose new album is We Are (Verve) (go here). Jon spoke about his childhood in and around New Orleans as well as his first pre-teen band with relatives. They transcribed and performed the music found on favorite videogames. [Photo above of Jon Batiste courtesy of Twitter]
SiriusXM. If you missed me on SiriusXM's Feedback last week with Nik and Lori, here's the complete show we did on Al Stewart's Year of the Cat...
Red Garland. In the wake of my post last week on The Red Garland Trio and Eddie "Lockjaw" Davis, I heard from Rob Fletcher:
Hey Marc, thanks for spotlighting this album, it is a wonderful one! For those interested who don't want to spend $100 on a CD, you can find it in a European box of seven Red Garland albums for about $40 at Amazon here. Or at eBay or Discogs.com. The only drawback is it doesn’t have the "M-Squad" bonus track you included in your post. Go here.
George Coleman. Last week I heard from Duane McClain:
Hi Marc, I just came across this clip on YouTube—the George Coleman Octet at the Camden Jazz Festival in 1981. It was posted less than a month ago. It's wonderful. "Isn't She Lovely" from the same concert has been on YouTube for a while, but this includes that and much more. What terrific musicians. Go here...
Billy Eckstine. Last week, after my post on vocalist Billy Eckstine, I heard from Phil Dorsey, who owns the BocX, a streaming soul, jazz and fusion station. Or, as the e-station puts it, "Danceable, jazzy, funky, soulful, electronic chill-out music." Phil wrote: "I inherited this picture [above] of my dad, Phil Sr., with Billy Eckstine. I don't know where the photo was taken or when."
Music to their ears. Last week, I found the following clip on the Facebook page of Robert McKeon:
During the pandemic, the animals in a zoo in Germany were depressed and never left their dens. Nobody went there anymore, neither children nor adults. The zoo remained empty. So the zookeeper called a pianist to play for them. The pianist composed this piece specifically for the animals. Here's what happened:
CD you should know about.
Harold Danko—Spring Garden (SteepleChase). Pianist Harold Danko has played with virtually everyone, including the Woody Herman and Thad Jones/Mel Lewis bands and as a sideman with Gerry Mulligan, Chet Baker and Lee Konitz. On his latest album, recorded in 2019, he's backed by tenor saxophonist Rich Perry, bassist Jay Anderson and drummer Jeff Hirshfield. The album features a collection of 10 originals by Harold. Each has a different level of intensity, and many have roots in European classical music. Stravinsky and Bartok are inspirations while there are folk and pagan touches as well as the blues. A richly rewarding album with intricate, gentle layers that compel you to listen and think. Go here.
Dodo Marmarosa radio. On Sunday, May 2, from 2 to 7 p.m. (ET), WKCR-FM's Sid Gribetz will present a five-hour radio broadcast spotlighting pianist Dodo Marmarosa. If you're unfamiliar with Marmarosa, don't miss it. You can tune in from anywhere in the world by going here.
The Supremes 2. Immediately after Diana Ross left the Supremes in January 1970 to start her solo career, she was replaced by Jean Terrell, who joined existing members Mary Wilson and Cindy Birdsong. The new trio's first hit was Up the Ladder to the Roof. Released in February, it climbed to #10 on Billboard's pop chart. Here they are, on the Ed Sullivan Show, singing the song...
And finally, I sheepishly must admit I'm a car guy. If you're a Ferrari fan, dig Dan Neil's car column in this weekend's WSJ on the new Ferrari Roma (here). It's one of the most beautifully designed cars on the market today (take a breath, it's $300,000 fully loaded). The proportioned shark-like exterior and the undulating sensuality of the sculptured interior are breathtaking. If you want to know more and take a ride in one (virtually), go here...
In 1947, vocalist Billy Eckstine became a solo performer, much the way Frank Sinatra had in 1942. Signing with MGM, Eckstine played to the young female market that dreamed of love. At first marketed to the Black urban market, Eckstine on MGM crossed over to the pop charts, racking up 18 hits between 1947 and '51. Lanky with movie-star looks and a bass-baritone voice, Eckstine specialized humid, romantic ballads that took Sinatra's sensitive male to a different level. Instead of playing the vulnerability card to charm female listeners, Eckstine left it all on the radio or in the recording studio with a deep and powerful operatic, crooning style. [Photo above of Billy Eckstine by William P. Gottlieb]
The photo above was taken by Martha Holmes for Life magazine and appeared in the April 25, 1950 issue. It showed Eckstine in New York surrounded by smitten white female fans. At the time, Holmes's image was considered so risque that an editor had to get Henry Luce, the magazine's publisher, to sign off on its publication. Luce gave the green light, insisting it run. Letters of protest followed its publication, and many Blacks, including Harry Belafonte, felt a barrier had been broken when the image appeared nationally. [Photo above by Martha Holmes, courtesy of the LIFE Picture Collection]
Here are 10 Eckstine ballads on MGM, many of which may be new to you, recorded between 1947 and 1951:
Hazel Scott was an enormously talented jazz and classical pianist whose popularity began to soar in the early 1940s. She appeared regularly at New York's Cafe Society in 1941, performed at Carnegie Hall in 1943, went to Hollywood, married Congressman Adam Clayton Powell in 1945 and was one of the first Black women to have her own TV show in 1950. But later that year, she was accused by the House Un-American Activities Committee of being a Communist, which tanked her career overnight. She had a nervous breakdown, recovered, toured in the U.S. and Europe, and moved to Paris in 1957. She lived and performed there for 10 years before returning to the U.S. Back home, she performed occasionally and appeared in the soap opera One Life to Live. She died in 1981 of cancer at age 61.
Here's a clip that shows just what a virtuoso she was...
And here's a superb minidoc on Scott by Eve Goldberg entitled What Ever Happened to Hazel Scott?...
Marc Myers writes regularly for The Wall Street Journal and is author of "Anatomy of a Song" (Grove) and "Why Jazz Happened." Founded in 2007, JazzWax is a three-time winner of the Jazz Journalists Association's best blog award.
