Back in 2023 I posted an item marking the first appearance of Louis Armstrong on record with King Oliver’s Creole Jazz Band back in 1923. Now it’s time to mark another jazz centenary which also involves Satchmo but in a different setting. King Oliver’s band split up at the end of 1923 over a disagreement about a planned nationwide tour and in 1924 Louis Armstrong moved to New York. He was soon snapped up by Fletcher Henderson and spent a glorious year as star trumpet soloist with Henderson’s big band. During that time he also made records with various small bands, including a number with the great vocalist and “Mother of the Blues” Gertrude “Ma” Rainey.
One of the tracks recorded by Ma Rainey in the Paramount studio in New York was called See See Rider. Although not released until 1925, the very first recording of this number was made exactly one hundred years ago today, on 16th October 1924, by “Ma Rainey and her Georgia Jazz Band”, the supporting musicians being Charlie Dixon (Banjo), Buster Bailey (Clarinet), Charlie Green (Trombone), Fletcher Henderson (Piano) and Louis Armstrong (Cornet). The origins of this blues song are lost in the mists of time but it has been recorded a huge number of times, not only by jazz and blues musicians but also by the likes of Elvis Presley; I posted a great version by Peggy Lee here.
Unusually for the time, two takes were made of which the following was the first. Notice that there is an introduction in the form of a verse, which is quite unusual: most blues performances involve only a chorus. Despite the limitations of recording technology at the time you can hear what a tremendously soulful voice Ma Rainey had, and the muted cornet work by Louis Armstrong is unmistakable.
The sound quality may not be great, but it’s a priceless piece of music history.
I thought I’d share this lovely little clip of the late great jazz guitarist Joe Pass. It’s from a show that classical guitarist John Williams presented along with three other exponents of the guitar from different genres. At this point they had been talking about the similarities between Jazz and Baroque music, especially with regards to the improvisation, so Williams invited Pass to improvise on a Chaconne by Johan Sebastian Bach. The result is absolutely fascinating, not least because of the musical jokes in the form of blue notes that Pass includes during his spontaneous elaboration. The first elicits a big smile from John Williams because the tritone Pass plays was regarded as the diabolus in musica in Bach’s time, but for a jazz musician blue notes like this are par for the course.
P.S. it’s amazing how little Joe Pass’s right hand seems to move…
Yesterday I once again headed off after work into Dublin by train to attend a concert by the National Symphony Orchestra this time under the direction of guest conductor Dinis Sousa (whose name is new to me). The programme consisted of two very familiar works, Grieg’s Piano Concerto in A Minor by Grieg and Elgar’s Enigma Variations by Elgar.
To start with, however, we heard a very interesting short piece by Anna Clyne called Masquerade which I enjoyed very much. This is only about five minutes long in performance, but full of energy and dynamics, and was a very suitable appetizer for the courses to follow.
The soloist for the Grieg Piano Concerto was Louis Schwizgebel who played it very well indeed. His articulation was crisp where necessary but also flowing when called for in the more romantic sections. The performance was very well received by the audience and by me. Actually I think that was the best performance of this work that I’ve heard live. Incidentally, I’m told the piano on which he performed was a brand new Steinway. Also incidentally, Edvard Grieg was only 24 when he wrote this piece.
During the second movement a member of the viola section of the orchestra had to leave the stage. I don’t know if she had broken a string or was just feeling unwell. I suppose both of these most happen from time to time in concerts, but I’d never seen it before. Thankfully she was back for the second half.
The Enigma Variations is another piece that is performed quite frequently. I’m not a huge fan of Elgar but this work definitely has its moments and I think anyone who doesn’t find Variation IX (“Nimrod”) uplifting must have something wrong with them. That said, that part is often played too slowly for my taste and can sound funereal rather than inspirational. Anyway, I hadn’t heard this in live performance for a long time so it was very pleasant to hear it again. I had forgotten that there is an organ part to this, actually, and it was good to hear the splendid NCH instrument used especially in the finale.
Overall it was a short (just 66 minutes playing time) but enjoyable concert. I’ll certainly be looking out for Louis Schwizgebel’s name on recordings in future as I think he is a fine soloist.
Last night found me once again at the National Concert Hall in Dublin for a concert by the National Symphony Orchestra conducted this time by Leonard Slatkin, who has a long association with the NSO and who was 80 years old on 1st September. I must say he looked very sprightly for a man eighty years of age!
To start the programme we had the world premiere of a piece by Leonard Slatkin’s son, Daniel. Voyager 130 was inspired by the Voyager space mission, and especially by the Golden Records carried by the Voyager probes. Among the pieces of music included on those records is the exquisite Cavatina from Beethoven’s String Quartet No. 13 (Opus 130) from which the composer borrows thematic material for this piece. Daniel Slatkin was actually in the audience for this – in fact he was sitting just two rows in front of me – and went up on stage after the very enjoyable performance.
After that, and some rearranging on stage, we had a performance of Beethoven’s Piano Concerto No. 4 with Dublin-born soloist Hugh Tinney. Although for its time it was very unconventional in structure, this is now a very familiar piece in the concert hall. For the most part it was played very well but I did think the orchestra were a bit stiff and lacking in expression in places. The performance was warmly received by the NCH audience, and Hugh Tinney received a standing ovation at the end.
After the wine break we had another familiar work, the Symphony No. 3 by Johannes Brahms, which Leonard Slatkin conducted without a score. I’m persevering with Brahms. I still don’t find that he moves me as much as many other composers and so many people rave about him that I think I must be missing something. The 3rd Symphony is a very fine work, offering lots of variety across its four movements while maintaining a strong sense of coherence and remaining relatively concise – it lasts about 33 minutes in performance. I’m no expert on Brahms but it seems to me that the 3rd Symphony is where he really found his voice as a symphonic composer and stepped out from the shadow of Beethoven.
Apart from the first piece, it was a very conventional programme but I enjoyed it as did the audience. It’s a pity there weren’t more people there, though. I’d guess that the NCH was about 2/3 full at most.
P.S. Last night Leinster rugby were playing a match at Landsdowne Road (beating the Dragons 34-6) and Shelbourne were playing Sligo Rovers at home in the League of Ireland (a 0-0 draw) so the train home was a bit busier than last time but still uneventful. When I got home later I decided to listen to a recording of the Beethoven Strong Quartet No. 13 before bed…
It was just over a year ago that I last went to the National Concert Hall in Dublin. That occasion was the opening of a new season of concerts for 2023-4 by the National Symphony Orchestra. After a year away on sabbatical, last night I went to the season opening of the next year of concerts by the National Symphony Orchestra, this time under the direction of Mihhail Gerts. I’m hoping to see more of the forthcoming season than I did the last!
The programme for the concert is shown in the picture. The first half was dominated by legendary mezzo-soprano Dame Sarah Connolly, resplendent in a turquoise frock, who sang six songs by Alma Mahler (born Alma Schindler) who was of course the wife of Gustav Mahler whose 1st Symphony we heard in the second half. Gustav famously (and reprehensibly) told Alma that she had to give up composing music when they married (which they did in 1902). Until then she had written not only songs but also piano music. Few of her compositions survive, however. Apparently she destroyed many of the manuscripts herself in later life. Of the fifty or so songs she is thought to have written, only 17 (including the 6 we heard last night) still exist on paper. She at least responded by outliving him by more than 50 years: Gustav died in 1911 and Alma Mahler passed away in 1964.
It’s very unfair to compare Alma Mahler’s settings with those of Gustav Mahler, who was a master of the orchestral song cycle. The compositions we heard all all quite short, three or four minutes, and are definitely influenced by Wagner. The first song, for example, deploys the famous Tristan Chord and there are passages that are clearly influenced by the Wesendonck Lieder. None of the manuscripts are dated, but in terms of style they do sound like late Romantic works from around 1900 when she was very young. Overall these works not at the same level of achievement of either Richard Wagner or Gustav Mahler but, with Sarah Connolly in fine voice, there was much to enjoy. I had never heard any of these songs before this evening, and it left me wondering what Alma Mahler might have achieved musically had she continued to compose. We’ll never know.
Before these songs we heard the concert overture In Nature’s Realm by Antonín Dvořák. This is also a piece that feels very late-19th Century (it was composed in 1891). It’s a sort of homage to the beauty of the composer’s native Bohemia with distinct echoes of Beethoven’s Pastoral Symphony, I thought.
After the interval wine break we returned for the second half which consisted of (Gustav) Mahler’s Symphony No. 1 in D Major. This is a very familiar concert work nowadays, but it’s worth remembering that it didn’t exactly set the world on fire when it was first performed in 1889 and Mahler revised it extensively before it arrived at the form now usually performed. Like all Mahler symphonies it covers a vast territory. One of the most famous Mahler quotations is “the symphony is a world”, but in the case of his own symphonies each movement is a world. The first movement begins in hesitant and fragmentary fashion before bursting into life with a metaphorical evocation of daybreak. The second movement is earthier and more forceful, quoting from folk songs and country dances. The third is my favourite, with its humorously up-beat references to Klezmer music before ending in a kind of funeral march. The final movement is tempestuous at first, then calm, then erupts into a glorious finale.
Last night’s performance was broadcast live on RTÉ Lyric FM but what radio listeners won’t have got was the thrilling sight of a symphony orchestra in full flood. At the end of the last movement, members of brass section stood up to give extra power to the climactic resolution of the piece. Mahler does “loud” very well indeed, but I was impressed by the spectacle too: the lights gleaming off the array of trombones and horns as they blasted out the final phrases (in another context I would call them “riffs”). Great stuff, and very well received by the audience.
P.S. On the way into Dublin to see last night’s concert I realized that the Irish Rail timetable had changed while I was away so, instead of terminating at Connolly (the station, not the mezzo-soprano), the train I was on went all the way through to Pearse, thereby saving me a bit of time walking. It only takes about 20 minutes (for me) to walk from Pearse to the NCH, in case you’re wondering, and I do like a bit of a walk to stretch my legs before sitting down for a couple of hours at a concert.
This poem was set to music in September 1948 by Richard Strauss and became one of his famous Four Last Songs. It was in fact the last of these songs he composed, although it is usually performed as the second song in the sequence. Strauss died in September 1949.
The first verse translates roughly as:
The garden is mourning, cool sinks the rain sinks into the flowers. Summer shudders as it meets its end.
I was obliged to take a taxi home from last week’s appointment. Taxi drivers don’t always make the best company, but this time I was lucky. The driver was a nice friendly chap with an infectious laugh, and when I had settled into my seat he asked me if he wanted him to turn the music down. I said no, it was fine. It wasn’t loud anyway. After a little while I realized that I really liked the music (which I hadn’t heard before) so I asked him to turn it up a bit. He smiled into the mirror, turned up the volume, and thereafter started humming and singing along. I made a note of the name of the band and the record in the hope that I could find it on YouTube, which I did.
Here we are then. This is Juju Music by Nigerian musician King Sunny Adé and his African Beats. Apparently it’s quite a famous record – it was released way back in 1982. I love the complex polyrhythms so typical of African music, and there’s some fine guitar playing on it too. I’ve been listening to it off and on over the whole weekend, so I thought I’d share it here. Enjoy!
Jimmy Giuffre (1921-2008) was an immensely gifted saxophonist and clarinet player who was also an accomplished arranger and composer who worked for many big bands. His most famous piece as an arranger was Four Brothers which he wrote for Woody Herman’s fantastic saxophone section of Stan Getz, Zoot Sims, Serge Chaloff and Herb Steward. My first encounter with Giuffre as an instrumentalist was in the opening track of the 1958 film Jazz on a Summer’s Day playing a tune called The Train and the River which has been a favourite of mine for many years. Back then he had a quite accessible style that blended jazz with folk elements, but he later developed a freer and more “modern” approach, including the use of electronic instruments and elements of jazz/rock fusion. I recently read a biographical article about him and – for obvious reasons – was intrigued that in 1985 he made an album called Quasar so I thought I’d share the title track here. Giuffre is on soprano sax on this one.
The great tenor saxophonist Ben Webster moved to Europe in 1964 and spent much of the rest of his life in Denmark until he passed away in 1973. After his cremation, his ashes were interred in the Assistens Kirkegård in Copenhagen; I visited his grave many moons ago:
That’s a bit of context for a beautiful clip I just stumbled across and couldn’t resist sharing here. It was filmed in Copenhagen in 1965 in the intimate surroundings of the apartment of Danish bass player Niels-Henning Ørsted Pedersen (who plays on the track), with Ole Steenberg on drums and Kenny Drew on piano. Kenny Drew is also buried in the Assistens Kirkegård, in a grave not far from Ben Webster’s.
This is a fine demonstration of Webster’s beautifully tender way of playing ballads, in this case George Gershwin’s Someone to Watch Over Me.
I wrote a piece a while ago about the richness of Jerome Kern’s great tune All The Things You Are. Here’s an example in the form of a wonderful live version on solo guitar by the great Joe Pass.
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In the Dark 