No particular reason for posting this unusual trio version of the Duke Ellington standard Take the A Train, except that I think it’s wonderful to see the great man playing the kind of extended solo that his big band rarely allowed him space to do.
Archive for the Jazz Category
Take the A Train
Posted in Jazz with tags Duke Ellington, Take the A Train on January 15, 2011 by telescoperIn a Mood
Posted in Jazz with tags Glenn Miller, In the Mood, Tar Paper Stomp, Wingy Manone on January 9, 2011 by telescoperBack to work tomorrow, and I’ve got quite a lot to sort out before we start back so I’ll be in the office this afternoon. No time for anything of any great consequence, therefore, so I thought I’d post this bit of music which some of you might find amusing and/or enjoyable.
I think I’ve written on this blog before that mathematical theorems and physical laws often have the wrong name associated with them. So it is with famous tunes. I’m in the mood to point this one out. The following track, called Tar Paper Stomp, was recorded by Wingy Manone and his Orchestra in 1930. The tune features a well-known riff that formed the basis of a much more famous and commercially successful recording made in 1939. In fact Glen Miller‘s hit was a second-order copy; he got the theme from a tune called Hot and Anxious recorded by Fletcher Henderson‘s Orchestra in 1931. There’s some debate who actually wrote it first – Fletcher Henderson’s brother Horace claimed to have done so – but Wingy Manone did receive an out-of-court cash settlement in return for not pursuing a copyright claim.
Anyway, in case you were wondering “Wingy” Manone’s nickname derived from the fact that he lost his right arm when he was run over by a streetcar as a child. Thereafter he wore a prosthetic limb, hence the name. It sounds a bit cruel, but he didn’t seem to object. In fact he was an extrovert showman, singer, comedian and all-round entertainer as well as a fine trumpeter. It can’t be that easy to play the trumpet with only one working hand – he seems to have used his prosthetic arm just for support, fingering the valves and holding the horn with his left. His style was firmly rooted in Dixieland; it may be a bit rough around the edges, occasionally downright raucous, but he certainly could play with a lot of gusto – his solo on this track is hugely enjoyable. In fact, I think this track makes Glen Miller’s In the Mood sound like a wet weekend in Stevenage.
I don’t have a personnel listing for this recording, but the tenor saxophonist sounds to me a lot like Bud Freeman. Although Benny Goodman played with Manone’s band around 1930 the clarinettist doesn’t sound like him to me. Could it have been Frank Teschmacher?
Shine on me
Posted in Jazz with tags Alan Dawson, Jaki Byard, Jazz, Roland Kirk, Shine on me on December 22, 2010 by telescoperPianist Jaki Byard was one of the most consistently original musicians of his jazz generation, but he was also consistently underrated. His eclectic style embraced the avant garde free jazz of the 60s and 70s as well as traditional gospel and folk music. Whatever he played, though, it definitely sounded exactly like Jaki Byard. Anyway, in 1968 he teamed up with the extraordinarily talented multi-instrumentalist Roland Kirk to record a typically varied selection of music, including this one which has been a favourite of mine since I first heard it on the radio about 30 years ago. It’s one of the most played tracks on my iPod, and it never fails to bring a smile to my face even when I’m stuck on stationary train feeling miserable.
Shine on me is attributed to that most prolific of all composers, Trad. It’s a theme that turns up in a few very early jazz recordings, but I think it began life as a gospel song way back in the mists of time. In this version, though, it’s given a foot-tapping beat which is just so very nineteen-sixties. Roland Kirk’s decision to start the piece on clarinet was truly inspired, and you can tell that all four musicians had a blast playing this. I suppose it’s a sort of parody, but it’s an affectionate one.
Finally, let me mention the drummer Alan Dawson, whose playing is based around a sort of half-funk half-boogie, but with all kinds of polyrythmic stuff on on top; he drives this along like the clappers and makes it such a joy to listen to.
How are things in Glocca Morra?
Posted in Jazz with tags How are things in Glocca Morra?, Jazz, Sonny Rollins on December 10, 2010 by telescoperAs regular readers of this blog (both of them) will know, I listen to quite a lot of jazz. In the course of doing that it has often struck me that there can hardly be a tune that’s ever been written – however unpromising – that some jazz musician somewhere hasn’t taken a fancy to and done their own version. Louis Armstrong turned any amount of base metal into gold during his long career, but here’s an example from a more modern legend, Sonny Rollins, who is still going strong at the age of 80. It’s a tune called How are thing in Glocca Morra? and it was written for the 1947 musical Finian’s Rainbow (which I hate). This version, though, recorded in the mid 50s by a band led by Sonny Rollins on tenor sax, is absolutely gorgeous. It doesn’t take much to inspire a genius…
Change of the Century
Posted in Jazz with tags Billy Higgins, Change of the Century, Charlie Haden, Don Cherry, Jazz, Ornette Coleman on December 4, 2010 by telescoperIt’s cold and rainy outside so I thought I’d indulge myself by posting a bit of music. When I was in Oxford last week I was treated to a glass or two of wine after my seminar and during the conversation I was mildy castigated by Pedro Ferreira for not posting enough “modern jazz”, and especially not enough Ornette Coleman. I explained that I always feel like I’m cheating when I just put up a bit of music without actually writing something about it at the same time, and I especially feel that way about pieces that some people might find a bit challenging.
Anyway, I went through my collection just now and found the pioneering album Change of the Century which is well represented on Youtube (and not cursed by the copyright mafia), so here we go…
Coleman’s music must have sounded strange and dissonant for listeners in the late 1950s but it was soon assimilated and became part of the language of jazz from the 1960s onwards. This album dates from 1959, right at the start of his acceptance as a major artist. This album is actually also one of his most listenable LPs and contains a number of tunes which are catchy and even singable. There are obvious overtones of Charlie Parker throughout, but Ornette is already introducing some novel features, especially the use of suspended rhythmic figures which Miles Davis was to call the “stopping and swinging” approach to improvisation.
The album also features Don Cherry on trumpet, Billy Higgins on drums and the superb Charlie Haden on bass so it’s by no means a solo vehicle for Ornette Coleman’s alto saxophone. Indeed, some of the most exciting moments in the album belong to the intricate alto-trumpet unison passages, which are so complicated but played with unbelievable accuracy by the musicians. The following track, simply called Free, provides good examples.
Ornette Coleman’s playing, though, is truly remarkable: agile, constantly moving and full of nervous energy, but also bursting away from the constraints of the bar lines and sometimes taking ideas over the boundary between one chorus and the next. In this respect he was fortunate to have Haden and Higgins playing behind him because they seem to be able to sense the direction of these spontaneous departures, giving the music a close-knit unity which sets it apart from so many other groups recorded at the same time.
If you’re interested in modern jazz you really should get this album. It’s consistently brilliant. As a taster, here’s the track called Free, which is my favourite.
Don Cherry and Billy Higgins are sadly no longer with us, but Ornette Coleman is still going strong. I hope to post some reflections on his later work in due course.
That’s a Plenty
Posted in Jazz with tags Benny Goodman, Jazz on November 25, 2010 by telescoperBy way of a little Thanksgiving gift to my friends and colleagues over in the US of Stateside, and also to warm the cockles of everyone shuddering here in the cold snap that’s fallen over Blighty, here’s a rare taste of hot jazz from a very young Benny Goodman.
This track was recorded in 1928, long before the start of the Swing Era of which Benny Goodman’s Orchestra was in the vanguard, leading Mr BG to be called “The King of Swing”. His clarinet sound is a bit rougher around the edges than he achieved in the slick performances of his later years, but then he was only 19 at the time and he certainly plays with a huge amount of drive.
This was recorded with a trio of himself on clarinet, a piano (Mel Stitzel) and a drummer (Bob Conselman). After he formed his big band in the thirties he continued to make records with a band of the same format, but featuring Teddy Wilson on piano and Gene Krupa on drums. I never quite worked out why he preferred not to have a bass player in the small group recordings (although he often included Lionel Hampton on vibes), but this older track at least demonstrates that he was consistent in that respect!
And another thing. I’m not an expert, but to my ears there’s more than a hint of the sound of Klezmer music in this recording. Waddayathink?
Follow @telescoperStardust
Posted in Jazz, The Universe and Stuff with tags Hoagy Carmichael, Sonny Stitt, Stardust on November 7, 2010 by telescoperStellar stuff. Tune by Hoagy Carmichael. Alto saxophone by Sonny Stitt. Images by various artists astronomers.
Sometimes I wonder why I spend
these lonely nights dreaming of a song
The melody haunts my reverie,
and I am once again with you
When our love was new
and each kiss an inspiration
But that was long ago,
now my consolation is in the stardust of a song.
Beside a garden wall,
when stars are bright,
you are in my arms
The nightingale tells his fairy tale
Of paradise where roses grew
Though I dream in vain,
in my heart it will remain
My stardust melody,
The memory of love’s refrain
Greensleeves
Posted in Jazz with tags Africa/Brass, Greensleeves, John Coltrane on October 27, 2010 by telescoperContrary to popular myth, Greensleeves was not written by Henry VIII. It was actually composed by the person who seems to have written all the best tunes, Trad. Here’s my favourite version, in a jazz style that’s very far from “Trad”, by a superb band led by John Coltrane, as found on the brilliant album Africa/Brass recorded in 1961.
ps. I think it was the pianist McCoy Tyner who wrote the arrangement for this piece, but I’m not 100% certain of that.
The Art Ensemble of Chicago
Posted in Jazz with tags Art Ensemble of Chicago, Cecil Taylor, Lester Bowie on October 21, 2010 by telescoperIt’s been a while since I posted anything from the outer reaches of the musical universe, so I thought I’d try this one out on you. It was recorded live in 1984 by the Art Ensemble of Chicago with the great Cecil Taylor as special guest on piano. Extrapolating from the comments on Youtube, I confidently predict that quite a lot of you will hate this but, for what it’s worth, I think the Art Ensemble of Chicago was one of the most consistently creative groups of musicians active in avant-garde Jazz from the 1960s, when it was formed, until the death in 1999 of their inspirational trumpeter Lester Bowie. Their music might be a bit too far “out there” for many tastes, but I love it. So there.
September Song
Posted in Jazz with tags Django Reinhardt, Kurt Weill, September Song on September 1, 2010 by telescoperWell, the summer’s over and soon we’ll be welcoming the new academic year. I thought I’d mark the occasion of the First of September with a piece of music that celebrates the genius of Django Reinhardt, the great Belgian-born gypsy guitarist who overcame the terrible injuries he suffered as a child (in a fire in his caravan) to become one of the greatest jazz musicians of all time. He had an unparalleled gift for melodic improvisation and a unique style of playing the guitar he invented himself to get around the fact that the third and fourth digits on his left hand were so badly burned he could effectively only use two fingers. Add him to your list of famous Belgians right away!
Here he’s playing the beautifully poignant September Song, by Kurt Weill:
Oh, it’s a long, long while from May to December
But the days grow short when you reach September
In the Dark 