W♥M (Archive)

JAZZ NOTE #12 – FRAME THE MOMENT

Nancy Wilson: Moon River

Growing up in Ohio, Nancy Wilson knew early she wanted to be a singer. After winning talent shows, working clubs, touring with a big band and studying briefly to become a teacher, she decided to make a move to New York City in 1959.

Cannonball Adderly was so impressed with the up-and-coming singer he helped launch Wilson’s career by sharing his manager, John Levy, and his label, Capitol Records.  That’s all the help she would need.  Her debut was so well received she released five albums by her within the first two and a half years.  And for the next forty Wilson would go on to record 70 albums with the last, “Turn to Blue,” winning a Grammy in 2006 for best jazz vocal.

Although Wilson has been described as a blues, jazz and/or cabaret singer, she has always preferred the title, song stylist.  She is definitely one of those artists that can take a standard and make it her own.  With the bright clarity of Ella Fitzgerald, the phrasing of Billie Holiday, the command of Frank Sinatra and the sensibility of her childhood idol, Nat King Cole, Wilson crafts a warm, sophisticated sound or as Time Magazine wrote in 1964, “She is all at once, both cool and sweet, both singer and storyteller.”

Like all the greats, Wilson can bring you in and make you feel at ease.  Take “Moon River.”  Henry Mancini and Johnny Mercer’s original is wistful and longing, but Wilson’s interpretation is a breezy.  She doesn’t so much sing as soar, gliding over the subtle percussive beat as to never land on a single note.  No wonder Joe Williams once called her the Thrush from Columbus.

Dave

 

JAZZ NOTE # 11 – FIND A GROOVE

Peterson & Jackson: Work Song

“If you make a mistake, don’t stop.  Make it part of what you are playing.” I think of this quote by Oscar Peterson every time I hear one of his songs.  He doesn’t so much play the piano as propel it.  In the middle of a solo, every key is under his domain as he deftly dashes the ebony and ivory with contradictory urgency and ease.  Even if Peterson made a mistake, you may never hear it.

Born in Montreal, Canada, Peterson took to the piano early, taking classical training in grade and high school, sometimes practicing 12 hours a day.  Invited to the United States by the legendary Norman Granz, Peterson signed on with Verve Records and formed a trio modeled much like the one made famous by Nat King Cole.  But this was no Route 66.  Peterson intended on letting his piano do the singing.  And with Ray Brown on bass and Ed Thigpen on drums, he started to develop a style that was light, fast, intricate and wholly infused with swing.

Recorded in 1961 “Very Tall” features this trio plus one more, Milt Jackson from The Modern Jazz Quartet.  On the surface the addition didn’t look to be a good fit.  Jackson was more coached in bebop and cool jazz where Peterson was more traditional.  One hot, one cool, how would this arranged marriage by Verve producers work?  How about fantastic!    Although  muscular and dynamic, Peterson knew how to pull back and welcome Jackson’s warm vibraphone solos. 

My favorite track is “Work Song.”  Jackson takes the lead, but Peterson soon leaps in with an effortless response, sounding like he is caught in a stream of eddies, rippling stones, multiple crosscurrents, all of it fluid.  No way is he going to stop.

Dave

JAZZ NOTE # 10 – BABY IT’S FREAKIN COLD OUTSIDE

Baby, It's Cold Outside

The other day I took out the garbage.  And as I headed inside, I noticed a mound of snow, which had been piling since early December, was now over my head.  I took this as a bad sign.  If Punxsutawney Phil lived in Minnesota, he would certainly wait until July before moving to Mexico.  The weatherperson verified this sentiment the other night.  She said that spring will be delayed because the endless acres of fallen snow will act as a giant fridge when warmer winds appear.  But that’s many days away.  Today its four degrees above zero.  Like Vu, I find January to be about survival. 

“Baby, it’s Cold Outside,” a song that toggles between love and frostbite, is an appropriate song for this time of year.  I knew it was a popular ballad, but I was surprised how many people have recorded it.  At I-Tunes I found artists as varied as Tony Bennett, Dean Martin, Lady Antebellum and Jessica Simpson.  For being a song about two lovers there is some strange pairings.  After all, can you mentally picture Norah Jones making out with Willie Nelson?  How about Zooey Deschanel and Leon Redbone?  Then there is the talk show host, Regis Philbin and The Dukes of Hazzard actor, Tom Wopat.  (No, they didn’t sing the duet together. They just appeared in the search.)

Then there is Louis Armstrong and Vilma Middleton with a live rendition on “Satchmo at Pasadena.”  Teamed with his All Stars like Jack Teagarden, Barney Bigard and Earl Hines, Armstrong seems to be more in the mood to entertain than to demonstrate his technical virtuosity.  And although the concert took place on January 30^th, 1951, I don’t think there is anything remarkably brutal when it comes to winter weather in southern California.  No matter.  Armstrong’s jovial tit-a-tat with Middleton and his band mates is a fun time.  Take a listen.  It's pretty funny.  It sure beats being stuck in a snowdrift. 

Dave  

JAZZ NOTE # 9 – THEN AND NOW

The Roots: How I Got Over Fairfield Four: How I Got Over

One reason I like jazz is how incorporates other musical genres like Blues, Soul and Samba. Does Hip Hop have a future in this stream? Nas certainly floated the question when he released his album, “Hip Hop is Dead.” His statement wasn’t if Hip Hop is viable but was it more than a product. Can it survive as an independent art form or like disco will it be gobbled by a music industry looking for steady revenue?

Like most musical genres Hip Hop started out as a megaphone for those who normally didn’t have a voice. It came from the streets of a bleak urban landscape and it was raw. It was most definitely raw and there were a great many that dismissed it as garbage, which I always found a false claim. It’s as if those who decried Hip Hop’s reckless and wild nature conveniently forgot that the birth of jazz came from speakeasies, gambling riverboats and strip joints. Sydney Bechet didn’t get his start at Carnegie Hall. Louis Armstrong’s first manager happened to be a Chicago mobster.

If you can see through the misogamy, the crassness and the misplaced glorification, you may hear a pretty good beat. Hip Hop isn’t just one thing. Besides the hustlers looking to make a quick note, there are those who see Hip Hop’s more artistic possibilities. Recently, Mos Def became the first Hip Hop act to perform at the world renowned Guthrie Stage. His show even incorporated the theater’s current production of “A Street Car Named Desire.”

I also see The Roots moving their music in this direction. It was their first album, “Things Fall Apart” that caught my attention. By chance I knew the title came from Chinua Achebe’s novel about the disintegration of a Nigerian family, which took the words from a William Butler Yeats’ poem, “A Second Coming,” which foretells the disintegration of society’s moral compass.

“Things Fall Apart,” heavy words for Hip Hop. But from the start The Roots have been more than booty call. Sure, they can get low down, but they have also snuck in songs about drug addiction “Water”, commercialization run amok “Pussy Galore” and global responsibility “Rising Down.”

Like “Things Fall Apart,” “How I Got Over” is a nod to a prior work. Instead of being literary it is a traditional gospel song. (See The Fairfield Four.) Hearing these two songs together may lend to you believe not much has changed when it comes to the travails of the African American experience. The Roots song is more soul than gospel, but that doesn’t mean it won’t carry an uplifting beat

Dave

JAZZ NOTE # 8 PAY TRIBUTE

Allen Toussaint: St. James Infirmary

Allen Toussaint is one of those musicians you may have never heard of but you know his work.   His collaborations run from Patti LaBelle and Otis Redding to The O’Jays and The Rolling Stones.  He wrote the Grammy nominated song, “Southern Lights”, famously sung by country singer, Glen Campbell.  Recently he did an album with Elvis Costello and even appeared with Cyndi Lauper on David Letterman.  Songwriter, producer, musician, there isn’t a facet or genre Toussaint hasn’t touched in his forty years in the business, but what drew my attention was an album he released a couple years ago, “The Bright Mississippi.”

Even though the name references the next door neighbor, Toussaint pays tribute to the musicians of New Orleans like Jelly Roll Morton, Sydney Bechet, King Oliver and the other king, Louis Armstrong.  The songs may have been played a thousand times by many others, but Toussaint somehow, “…has transfixed himself on an old and yellowing map and by doing so conjured it to be a living, changing landscape.”  So says Joe Henry in the liner notes.

If you don’t know much about jazz, I can think of no better introduction.  I especially like Toussaint’s interpretation of “St. James Infirmary”, a traditional dirge of a funeral march, but he picks a pace between a skip and a strut.  If he’s off to a funeral, he’s promising a good time.  What more can you say about New Orleans?  

Dave

JAZZ NOTE # 7 WHIP SOMETHING UP

 

Limbo Jazz

Duke Ellington

“You know, I want you to make a record with me,

And I’m going to write a number specially for you.”

Duke Ellington

 

We’ve all been there.  We’ve run into an old friend we haven’t seen in a while.  We remember.  We catch up.  And before we part, we promise to get together soon. 

When Duke Ellington ran into Colman Hawkins and said the above quote, I don’t think either of them thought it would take twenty years to put an album together.  It did but they never forget the date.   

With both of their careers firmly established, Ellington as a big band leader and Hawkins as the first great tenor saxophonist, they took a brief moment from their busy schedules to sit down at Rudy Van Gelder’s studio on August 18, 1962.

Yes, they only had one day and it was an afternoon session.  There would be no need for practice.  Ellington brought his regulars and Hawkins would only need to a couple songs under his belt to get to speed. 

True to his word Ellington wrote a song for Hawkins called “Self Portrait of the Bean”, which is Hawkins' nickname.  But my favorite song on the album is “Limbo Jazz”, a spry calypso number conceived midway through the session, like Ellington threw on an apron and put together a little number with his bassist and drummer, adding a few horns here and there and asking his guest to add the finishing touches.

Hawkins returned the favor by improvising a wonderful ending solo, his expressive sound as natural as breathing and as beautiful as a warm ocean breeze.

When you listen, take note of the drummer, Sam Woodyard, singing along, completely unaware that not only was their improv being recorded it would also end up as the first song on the album. 

 

- Dave

JAZZ NOTE # 6 KICK BACK & RELAX

 

KITTY

Ben Webster & Harry "Sweets" Edison

“Let those other fellows play sixty-thousand notes.

You just play with three with tone.

That makes the difference.”

 
Russell “Pops” Smith

with advice to a young Benny Webster

 

What I like about jazz is how multi-dimensional it can be.  From Dixieland, Big Band to a small trio playing in a hotel lounge, jazz can stir a swell of emotions from wooing a lover to putting a spring in your step.  It can even make you want to kick back after a long day and relax.

When I listen to this Columbia Jazz Masterpiece, “Ben & Sweets” it sounds like two guys taking the time to reflect and for good reason.  By the time Ben Webster and Harry “Sweets” Edison met up in New York in 1962 they had a lot to talk about.  Webster had already made his mark on lead saxophone in the Duke Ellington Orchestra and Edison already spent twelve years as the trumpet soloist with Count Basie.  In the 30’s and 40’s there were no bigger big bands or preeminent soloist.

But the late 40’s and 50’s were not kind to Big Band Swing.  What’s surprising, though, is how constant these two remained when the paradigm shifted from Be-Bop to Hard-Bop to West Coast Cool.  The decades did not matter.  To Webster and Edison, their music was timeless and they kept busy playing by arranging and leading or backing vocalists. By the time they laid down these tracks, both men were established enough to no longer feel a need to impress.  Instead, all they wanted to do was play beautiful music. 

Unlike most albums where I like to cherry pick, I love every track. Each man gets a chance at his own extended solo with a Gershwin tune. (Webster with “How Long is this Going on?” and Edison with “Embraceable You.”)  And when I listen to my favorite, “Kitty”, I can’t help picture Webster and Edison on a front porch in the cool of the evening, laughing, joshing and most of all reminiscing.  “Do you remember the time…?”

Dave

 

 

JAZZ NOTE # 5 – GET A NICKNAME

 

Barefoot Sunday Blues

Cannonball Adderley

Sitting Bull, Crazy Horse, Scarface, Fat Tony, Flavor Flav and Ghost Face Killah, when it comes to making a name for yourself, it doesn’t hurt to start with a nickname.  For you know you have truly arrived when people don’t even know your real name.  Take Sting, Prince and a guy who goes by The Edge.  And when it comes to jazz royalty, does anybody know Duke Ellington as Edward or Count Basie as good, old William?  Probably as many who know Cannonball Adderley’s first name. 

 

Although Julian was born on September 15^th 1928 in Tampa Florida, musically speaking he was given birth and inspired in New York City by the great Charlie “Bird” Parker.  But before that all happened he picked up a nickname; not because his alto sax sounded like incoming artillery.  In fact, Cannonball is a spin-off of another childhood nickname “Cannibal”, given for his healthy appetite, which I have read he went in with gusto, which can also best describe the way he plays his horn.

 

Take a listen to the fifth song on his “Cannonball Takes Charge” album.  Immediately, “Barefoot Sunday Blues” takes you there.  It even sounds like he is walking barefoot while playing his Sunday Blues, which aren’t the Blues at all.  Monday, maybe, but not Sunday.  Carefree, soulful and swinging, what best describes this song is joyful.  Cannonball is one of the few instrumentalists I can readily identify when hearing one of his songs.  His musical roots are grounded in gospel and you can hear the notes springing to life in all of his solos.  And that’s what this album is: Straight ahead Cannonball. No other horns getting in the way; just Cannonball playing with Wynton Kelly on piano, Paul Chambers and Percy Heath taking turns on the bass and Jimmy Cobb and Albert “Tootie” Heath passing back and forth the drums.  Other than that there’s Cannonball taking charge.  Dang Right!

 

 

Dave

JAZZ NOTE # 4 – STICK AROUND

01 Sonny, Please

Sonny Rollins

 

Contrary to a popular rock ‘n roll belief, some musicians are better off not burning out quickly or fading away.  Like a fine whiskey or an endearing ballad, jazz musician only get better with time.  Sure, their technical skills may diminish a little, but there is something more worldly and expressive that manifests in musicians with more than a few decades notched into their instruments.  At least that’s what I saw in concert with:

 

-               Jon Lee Hooker with a voice sounding like the beginning of time, seated and playing his guitar through an ongoing standing ovation.

 

-           Ruben Gonzalez from the Buena Vista Social Club, accepting the warm, extended hands as an assistant gently leaned his frail body into the front row during the second encore.

 

-               Jimmy Heath setting down his saxophone to rest against the piano; every once in a while leaning into the microphone to scat out “Johnnie Walker… Black Label.”  (I’m not sure what he meant, but he sure sounded damn cool.)

 

Then there’s Sonny Rollins, the last of the lions, the man who played with everybody and established himself as the best saxophone player among them, the last link to the Golden Era still stretching a career into the present.   

 

I didn’t know what to expect when I sat down for one of his concerts a couple years back.  He already canceled the show once due to illness.  But no matter.  Even though it was Halloween, the city of Minneapolis named it Sonny Rollins Day.  And when he came on stage to accept the certificate, there was a hitch to his step. He didn’t look much like a lion.  He even looked a little out of place with the rest of the band whose combined ages probably didn’t add up to his 75.  So when Sonny set down the plaque and picked up his horn, I was somewhat prepared for a comfortable evening with well-known classics.  What I got right at the beginning was the title song to his new album, “Sonny Please,” indicating to me, indicating to the audience, indicating to sands of time that even though his career was nearing the dying light, he had no intention of going quietly.

 

“Johnnie Walker… Black Label.” 

 

JAZZ NOTE # 3 – PAINT A PICTURE

 

                                   " For me the essence of a big band is in the celebration

                                of the collective by a group of highly individual personalities."

                                                                                 Dave Holland

  

Dave Holland Big Band - First Snow

Dave Holland Big Band

One of the advantages working with 12-16 musicians is the conductor’s ability to expand his palette.  Without uttering one word a big band can create a vivid scene rich in color and bustling with motion.  For example take Duke Ellington’s “Caravan” and Dizzy Gillespie’s “A Night in Tunisia.”  Or since we are moving into the season, listen to Dave Holland’s “First Snow” from his 2002 EMC release “What Goes Around.”

 

If you live in the Northern part of the world like Vu and I do here in Minnesota, then you know how perfectly the song captures how quiet it can get, how beautiful it is and how sad it seems as the soloist evoke their own nuanced emotions:

-   Alex Sipiagin on flugelhorn with a wisp of regret seeing the falling leaves now replaced.

-       Andrew Hayward on trombone with a resigned shrug, already layering.

-       Mark Gross on alto sax with no intention of going quietly, even crying

mid-solo like a man with no gloves trying to get into a frozen car.

By chance I heard this song in my car, coming home after a long hard day.  And as I entered the final bend driving around Lake of the Isles, there they were: flakes, sparse and anemic, like listless albino fireflies floating in the thin air.

If you are a lover of music, there are times in your life when a song slips past the words and melody and becomes something more.  Suddenly, there is no longer outside clamor or inside thought.  The past no longer matters and the future can wait because at the moment there’s this song and it’s taking over as the first snow of the season dances past your dusty windshield.

- Dave