Archives for category: Music

A storm coming together of the blaring horns of swing music, the development of the electric guitar by the late great Les Paul, electric blues out of Chicago, country boogie woogie, independent record labels like Atlantic, Chess (Leonard and Phil Chess – nice Jewish Boys), and Sam Phillips’ Sun Records (home of Jerry Lee Lewis and first label of Elvis Presley before Phillips sold Presley’s contract to RCA). Specialty Records another early big one. This stuff all comes in the 50s.

There are arguments to be made, however, that the origins of rock and roll date back at least to the 30s. I’ve chosen fourteen songs from the Wikipedia early rock and roll page (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Origins_of_rock_and_roll) as examples of nascent rock music.

The songs that were the first rock and roll hits came in the early 50s, but, as noted, there were sounds coming from all over that contributed to the rock and roll sound. And the earliest influences, by some accounts, were recorded in the 20s. The thing to keep in mind, as the article states, is that every opinion is based on the person’s own criteria – there’s no real standard.

Wynonie Harris’ version of Good Rockin’ Tonight, Louis Jordan’s Caldonia, Jimmy Preston’s Rock This Joint are all early moves from swing and R&B to what rock and roll would sound like when polished by people like Sam Philips (founder of Sun Records – we’ll get to him in the next Rock lesson).

It’s hard to discuss early rock and roll without noting that the term often refers to both dancing and sex (which, some have noted, is also true of the term ‘jazz’), but the phrase also has a gospel sense. Sister Rosetta Tharpe’s Rock Me is a spiritual:

You hold me in the bosom / Till the storms of life is over
Rock me in the cradle of our love / Only feed me till I want no more
Then you take me to your blessed home above

(Much later, Jackson Browne’s Rock Me On The Water had a similar usage.)

While Wynonie Harris’ version of Good Rockin’ Tonight definitely has the non-spiritual sense to it, in several stanzas he uses the phrase ‘heard the news’ which is a traditional reference to the gospels.

This weaving together of the sacred and the profane finds its way into many different corners of the rock landscape. Doo Wop and R&B always had the church choir influence – this is where many rock/R&B/soul singers learned to harmonize. Little Richard, Sam Cooke, Aretha Franklin, and Whitney Houston all had gospel backgrounds.

Country blues (also known as folk blues) music has a slightly different feel than the blues we’ve covered in the jazz lessons. It tends to be performed with solo acoustic guitar (and occasionally harmonica). I’ve included Jim Johnson’s Kansas City Blues because you can trace his style down through Hank Williams (the first, not to be confused with country star Hank Williams Jr. and Hank III, his son and grandson) and in one direction to Bob Dylan and the late 50s/early 60s folk scene and on to the boogie of ZZ Top and others in the ‘southern fried rock’ bands of the 70s (April Wine, .38 Special, etc.).

Clarence ‘Pinetop’ Smith’s Pinetop Boogie Woogie has a stride piano base, and mostly has for lyrics instructions to the band to do various things. This format can be heard much later in Ray Bryant’s Madison Time (with which I’m pretty sure you’re familiar) and a whole lot of James Brown (“Can I hit it and quit it?” from Sex Machine, for example).

The Washboard Rhythm Kings’ version of Tiger Rag is notable for being thoroughly unhinged. Note that the music of the jug band tradition (that of turning household objects into cheap musical instruments) would influence musicians in the small folk clubs of the early 60s. In Palo Alto, there was Mother McCree’s Uptown Jug Champions who would soon change their name to the Warlocks and finally to the Grateful Dead.

And here’s an earlier, equally off the hook version of Tiger Rag: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nWSnT62X8uA

And a much more recent version, I think from a Les Paul tribute concert featuring Jeff Beck and Imelda May: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qy3P7Ry94cQ

Delta blues legend Robert Johnson’s relatively small body of recorded work was mostly unrecognized while he was alive. He died in 1938, and might be the first member of the 27 club, about which more later. Johnson’s complete recordings comprise only 42 recordings (including alternate takes) and fit on two CDs. However, the 1961 reissue, Columbia’s King of the Delta Blues Singers influenced a whole load of musicians including B.B. King, Jimi Hendrix, Eric Clapton, Brian Jones, Keith Richards, and Robert Plant. (Yeah, four of those are white English boys. In a few months I’ll do a lesson on the American Invasion of Britain that predates the British Invasion.)

On these solo blues recordings you can hear what became the twin-guitar approach of four-person rock and roll bands. On I Believe I’ll Dust My Broom, Johnson alternates between playing chords and more rapid individual notes. In most folk/folk blues you generally just get the chords.

It’s not just Johnson’s guitar technique that was influential. The songs themselves were covered by groups across the rock and roll spectrum and have become blues and rock standards.

The rhythms of Bob Willis’ Ida Red would find their way into Chuck Berry’s late 50s hits for Specialty including Maybelline.

To illustrate how swing threads its way into rock and roll, I’ve added two versions of Louis Jordan’s fantastic Caldonia. The first is a piano-based boogie woogie, the second featuring electric guitar. I’ve also included the full version of his 1949 Saturday Night Fish Fry which includes the chorus:

 It was rocking / It was rocking
You never seen such scufflin’ and shufflin’
Til the break of dawn

(I think this is an editing together of both sides of the original 78. Not sure.) Of course, using the word rocking in the refrain helps identify it as an early rock record (and was noted as such by Chuck Berry), but that phrase “til the break of dawn” would later haunt more cut-rate hip-hop songs than you can shake a tail feather at.

Arthur Big Boy Crudup’s That’s All Right Mamma was later covered by Elvis Presley for his first single, though Rock Me Mama was originally Crudup’s bigger hit.

You met Nat “King” Cole, in the last jazz lesson. His rendition of Bobby Troup’s Route 66 was a hit in 1946 and was later covered by numerous rock bands including the Rolling Stones (in 1963, I think) and the Replacements (in 1987). Another argument made about rock and roll is that it has two subjects: cars and girls. What made the car part of the argument possible was the post-war expansion of the US highway system. A single highway from Chicago to Los Angeles was well worth singing about.

And finally, we’ve got Jimmy Preston’s Rock This Joint (1949). Like Good Rockin’ Tonight, it has that repeating reference to secular rocking. One story is that this was the track that led Cleveland DJ Alan Freed to apply the term rock and roll to rhythm and blues music as early as 1951. A lot of late 40s R&B which would have been termed race music for the purposes of record charts would also have been unheard by most white audiences until Freed started playing it on his radio show. Of this, more in the next report.

Oh, and there’s one other thing. Teenagers. With America’s post-war affluence and growing middle class, due in part to the GI bill, strong unions, and a very strong economy, young people for the first time had a disposable income and corporations of many kinds were keen to exploit it. This will be a recurring theme as rock and roll becomes a commodity.

Next up: The Labels

Prior to the 1950s, Billie Holiday recorded primarily singles. From 1952 until her death at the age of 44 in 1959, Lady Day recorded ten studio albums and three live albums, primarily for the Verve label (and its Clef subsidiary). She recorded her final album, 1958’s Lady in Satin, for Columbia.

This last period of her life was marked by a lot of personal strife, including abusive relationships, as well as heroin addiction, but even on that final album, she’s well in control of her talents, though her voice had lost a lot of its range.

The thing to remember about these albums is that, unlike her earlier work, these are their own set pieces, not standalone singles, or collections of singles. Of course, this isn’t true only of Billie’s work – it’s the nature of the music business in general in the 1950s– with the advent of LPs, artists, label, and producers began to conceive of pieces listeners would enjoy at a sitting, generally in front of a large console hi-fi system.

By this period, the recording art had become such that the instrumental solos get as much attention as Holiday’s vocals. I don’t think in recording she was ever less than generous with the people who played with her, but on these late albums the band members all get a chance to shine.

1952    Billie Holiday Sings / Recorded: March 26, 1952 (Clef)

This eight-song 10” (extended to 12 and renamed Solitude for the 12” 1956 rerelease) maintains a mostly upbeat take on love with gently swinging arrangements. On the one hand, producer Norman Granz keeps the instrumentation light and Billie’s voice to the front. On the other, her interplay with the musicians, notably Charlie Shaver’s muted trumpet on Solitude and Oscar Peterson’s piano on Blue Moon, highlight how well she used her voice as an instrument in much the way Ella and Sarah Vaughan did. I recall hearing her version I Only Have Eyes For You sometime in the 90s and falling in love with it. I was already familiar with a lot of her work, but only knew the slower 1959 version by the Flamingos.

1953    An Evening with BilliImagee Holiday / Recorded: April 1, 1952 & July 27, 1952 (Clef)

This is an altogether more down affair than Billie Holiday Sings. Stormy Weather sets the tone – this is a collection of lost love and love on the rocks songs. While My Man, He’s Funny That Way, and Tenderly address love as a good thing, the tempo and timing are as sad as those on opener Stormy Weather. On the other side of the coin, closer Remember addresses a lover who has strayed, but with a much happier the tempo. This track also features a pair of really nice solos from Peterson and Barney Kessel. (At the time Kessel and bassist Ray Brown rounded out the Oscar Peterson Trio, though Kessel only stayed a year.)

1954    Billie Holiday / Recorded: April 1, 1952 & April 14, 1954 (Clef)

As you can see all three of these albums came out of sessions that occurred in a four month period, and with many of the same players on all sessions. That said, the musicians are all at the top of the game. The playlist has all eight tracks because they weren’t obviously available on Spotify in sequence. Listen, in particular to Everything I Have Is Yours. Billie and tenor man Flip Philips are engaging in a sweet dialogue. As with the first two sets, the songs strike a melancholy balance between love and lost love. The closing tracks, however, positively swing. What a Little Moonlight Can Do features another fantastic solo from Peterson and some sweet trumpet work from Charlie Shavers while I Cried For You, a defiant kiss-off to a faithless lover is notable for its building intensity.

1955    Stay with Me / Recorded: February 14, 1955 (Verve)

This seven-song result of a single recording session with Tony Scott’s orchestra and features on side A a couple of longer pieces (each well over six minutes) sandwiching a modern take on Fats Waller’s 1929 hit Ain’t Misbehavin’. (I’ve added a Waller rendition to the playlist as well, for a contrast.) These are strange recordings in that the solos really stretch out. Everything Happens To Me, with its line “I’m just a girl who never looks before she jumps” has the not quite defeated feeling of the classic recordings of Good Morning Heartache and Travelin’ Light off Lady Sings The Blues recorded the following year. The sequencing of the album reflects that of Billie Holiday, with two swingers on side B, I’ve Got My Love To Keep Me Warm and Irving Berlin’s Always, though it closes with a thoughtful rendition of Ellington’s Do Nothing ‘Til You Hear From Me.

Joe’s History of Jazz
Lesson 5A

There’s no real delineation between the decades. Those zero years are just easy markers.

In the early 50s, Miles Davis didn’t exactly drop out of the scene, but following his return from a 1949 tour of Paris, fell into heroin addiction. For about four years he performed a bit, recorded quite a lot, and “lived the life of a hustler” (Wikipedia’s phrase – I don’t know what this means in context, however). In the late 1980s I read a biography of Miles that suggested he played in a recording session with Billie Holiday during this period, but I’ve never identified what those recordings might have been. He finally quit cold turkey in 1954. While his work from the late 40s and early 50s (addiction or no) show him to be a musician of incredible talent and vision. I’d argue that from 1955’s first quintet sessions through to 1975’s Agharta and Pangaea live albums, Miles was the center around which everything new in jazz revolved/evolved. (Between 1975 and 1981 he recorded little and didn’t perform in public at all, due primarily to illness and exhaustion. Many of his recordings and performances after returning to the public eye are less innovative and very much of their time, but there are still some intriguing gems in that late work.)

In 1951 he signed with Prestige records and recorded with a revolving cast of musicians that often included Art Blakey on drums and Sonny Rollins on tenor sax. Blakey later led the Jazz Messengers and Rollins led his own bands from 1957 onward.

Harold Arlen’s It’s Only a Paper Moon, from 1951’s Dig with Rollins was a hit in the 40s for Nat King Cole. While Miles’ lines hew to Cole’s vocal version, we get long improvisatory solos from Rollins and Davis.

On the subject of improvisation, in a recent interview with the All About Jazz web site, Kawabata Makoto of the Japanese psychedelic collective Acid Mothers Temple had this to say:

 AAJ: How do you go about staying creative as a musician? What inspires you to play?

 KM: I believe I haven’t created any music. Always, my cosmos teaches me what I should play. I don’t need to be inspired by anybody. I just try to be the best radio tuner for my cosmic that gives me music all the time. I try to play with “self-annihilation.” Any personal, egoistical idea makes the pure music [I think there might be a translation error in that last sentence. -JS]. I have to play without any of my personality or my own ideas. So I’ve tried to be a better tuner to receive and replay— to recreate—this music for people. But if I add any of my ego—my personal ideas of this music—this pure music will be a different thing. For example, if a musician gets any new technique, they want to show it to other people. Then this musician tries to add this new technique to his music. But I believe music must be played without any musicians’ egos. Music must be played as pure!

 While this may apply to certain more recent schools of music than 50s era Miles, Makoto is not the only one to suggest that he is only a conduit for his virtuosity. John Coltrane made similar assertions. It’s worth keeping in mind as we delve into the improvisational nature of jazz as the form moves on from 3-minute recordings to longer forms.

Bluing was recorded at one of two 1951 sessions from which the Dig album was compiled, though originally released as part of the Blue Period 10” album (along with Blue Room and Out of the Blue). At almost ten minutes long, Miles and Rollins both take the space to get into this Davis composition. Rollins’ tenor sax solo starts at about the 4 minute mark. He and Miles alternate for a bit before Jackie McLean’s alto comes in at about 6 minutes. Each one takes a route around the theme before Miles takes it back around the 8th minute. He finally restates the theme, introduced by Walter Bishop’s piano in the opening, in the piece’s closing bars.

Smooch, recorded in 1953 and released on Blue Haze is notable, again, for the line-up. Charles Mingus (who usually plays bass, but plays piano on this track) would soon record a string of influential albums starting with Mingus Ah Um in ’59. Drummer Max Roach, who founded the Debut record label together with Mingus in ’52 ,continued to record and perform with figures including Duke Ellington (1962’s Money Jungle, also with Mingus). Bassist Percy Heath and pianist John Lewis (not on this track, but on the rest of Blue Haze) had co-founded the Modern Jazz Quartet (usually abbreviated MJQ) the previous year and would continue to perform and record under that moniker on and off until the early 1990s.

Around the same time as the Blue Haze recordings, Dizzie Gillespie, Charlie Parker, Mingus, Roach, and pianist Bud Powell released Jazz at Massey Hall, Toronto. The show is remarkable for a number of reasons; one is that it was the last time Gillespie and Parker shared a stage. I’ve included a smoking rendition of Gillespie’s A Night in Tunisia (which you heard first back one of the 1940s entries). Again, we get extended solos from many of the participants – Powell’s is particularly tasty. I’d like to be able to point to the interplay between Powell and Mingus, but in the original release of the album, the bass was overdubbed because it had been too low in the mix. A later reissue removed the overdubbing. I’m pretty sure the one in the Spotify playlist is an overdubbed version.

Django, a Lewis composition and early MJQ recording, is a tribute to Django Reinhardt who passed away in 1953. Despite having no guitar, it has the feeling of some of Reinhardt’s tunes especially in the closing movement. I think it’s fair to say that this song progresses through distinct phases that might be called movements akin to those in a sonata. The song isn’t relaxed but has a distinct lack of hurry that’s very appealing.

Art Blakey, the drummer on the Dig sessions, first recorded under the name Art Blakey and the Jazz Messengers with the Café Bohemia albums recorded in 1955. Their rendition of the 1939 hit What’s New is almost a duet between Doug Watkins’ bass and Horace Silver’s piano – Blakey really only comes to the fore at the end of the song. On the other hand, the band’s rendition of Jimmy Van Heusen’s Like Someone in Love shows off each musician’s talent. Kenny Dorham’s trumpet work is well balanced against Hank Mobley’s sax. Dorham’s another journeyman who led his own small groups and was a sideman for many others. A few years later Mobley would join the Miles Davis Quintet for Someday My Prince Will Come (but I get ahead of myself).

Coming around the other way, we have John Coltrane whose tenor saxophone would grace the work of the first great Miles Davis Quintet from ’55 to ’57, was already recording in the early 50s. Between 1949 and 1951, Coltrane recorded several sessions with Dizzy Gillespie (including one which featured Dinah Washington, which I can’t find the Washington tracks on Spotify), but We Love to Boogie gives a taste of the power he was already showing pretty early in his career. The swinging Used to Be Duke, is from a 1954 stint with Johnny Hodges (an alto sax player who worked with Ellington in the 30s and participated in that great Benny Goodman show at Carnegie Hall). Miles admired Coltrane for, among other things his ability to play both loud and fast, while maintaining complete control of the instrument. You get a taste of that in both of these tracks.

There’s more to say about Coltrane and the other people who played with Miles during this very rich period. In a couple of massive sessions in 1956, Miles and Coltrane, pianist Red Garland, bassist Paul Chambers, and drummer Philly Joe Jones would record enough material for four albums, enough to fulfil Davis’ contract with Prestige and allow him to jump to Columbia Records in ’57.

Next up, however, we’ll visit Billie Holiday’s later work.

Joe’s History of Jazz
Lesson 4C

http://open.spotify.com/user/bishopjoey/playlist/5L3ySZDnsMcniMXfM0kfAV (Scroll down to Sarah Vaughan and Dizzy Gillespie’s version of Loverman.)

In the late 40s, vocal styles changed a bit from the big band-backed style of the pre-war years to something more compatible with bebop. That’s a broad generalization, but let’s go with it for a little bit. Sarah “Sassy” Vaughan, who had played with Earl Hines and Billy Eckstine during the early part of the decade struck out on her own. I’ve found some early recordings with Dizzy and Bird (including another version of Loverman). The thing to listen for with all the vocalists of this period, and possibly in jazz vocalisation in general is for the phrasing. How does the singer play her voice against the melody, both that provided by the instruments, and that in the song? In East of the Sun, listen to how Vaughan plays with the spacing of the words (at 1 minute 20) just before Dizzy’s solo.

I’ve included her version of Nat King Cole’s Nature Boy. What’s interesting about it is that due to another musicians’ strike, she recorded with a vocal choir rather than instrumental accompaniment. In the late 40s, Sassy signed with Columbia and had both critical and commercial successes including with this sweet version of Black Coffee, though Columbia pushed her away from jazz and more towards pop. This was common for the label – Billie Holiday’s earliest Columbia work features angel choirs as does some of Aretha Franklin’s pre-Atlantic work in the early 60s.

Ella Fitzgerald, who had been recording since the 1930s (both ‘pop fluff’ as her 1966 NY Times obituary noted), added scat singing to her style in the mid 40s, in response to bebop’s influence. Scat is primarily wordless vocal improvisation, but the singer must handle it deftly or risk losing the audience to what can come across as nonsense. Cab Calloway and Slim Gaillard generally used scat to humorous effect. I’ve added Slim’s Puerto Vootie to the playlist for a reference, though I’m not sure how much of the song is actual Spanish, and how much is Latin-tinged scat. For her more straight-ahead style, listen to what Ella does on this arrangement of I’m Beginning to See the Light with the Ink Spots. Ella’s My Baby Likes To Bebop has that sense of humour from the origins of scat, but one could argue that what she does on this recording of How High The Moon (she comes in at about 5 minutes 50) is straight-up improvisation. The thing to note is how she’s always in control – you can hear it as well on Flying Home. Her harmony with the other musicians doesn’t stray.

Billy Eckstine is a really interesting case – he toured with Earl Hines in the late 30s/early 40s before forming his own big band, but it was a bop big band and featured at various times Miles Davis, Dexter Gordon, Art Blakey, and Dizzy Gillespie, among others. He played trumpet (Opus X), but was primarily a vocalist, and later focused on ballads. You can hear both sides on two 1946 tracks, Oo Bop Sh’bam and Prisoner of Love. Listen to Blue Moon and You’re All I Need (a duet with Vaughan) to get how beautiful his tenor was.

Another balladeer who started out in the jazz realm was Nathaniel Adams Coles, better known as Nat King Cole. Born in Alabama in 1919 and raised in Chicago, he studied piano, including jazz, gospel, and classical music. He landed in LA in the late 30s, after touring with a Eubie Blake revue and decided to stay. There he formed the King Cole Swingers, later the Nat King Cole Trio, an instrumental combo to which Cole later added his vocal talents. His piano style influenced later musicians including Oscar Peterson, Art Tatum, and Ray Charles. Peterson, also a pianist by trade, later recorded a beautiful album of vocals associated with Cole called With Respect to Nat. The Trio signed with Capitol records in 1943 and had its first hit with Straighten Up and Fly Right.

Next up: More Bop, More Blues.

My friend Renée writes some beautiful, achingly personal posts to Facebook about music. Usually opera, but other things as well. I asked if I could share this one here. A note about her – Despite the nose ring, and green hair she mentions (and being well tattooed as well), at the time Renée was the very capable classical music buyer for Tower Records on Castro Street.

I hope she will allow me to share more.

3 November at 09:31 ·
Sometimes you never know. I have watched a hummingbird fly backward and wanted to cry. You never know where another person may be. In the depths of thought,passion, sorrow…we know so little about a stranger.
At Stow Lake in Golden Gate park years ago,watching the ducks and lovers in rowboats, an older woman ( I was in my early twenties), completely in black, maybe 45, caught my eye. I wanted to know her… I needed to. How badly she interested me.
I joined her on the bench.
I did not speak.
Not wanting to intrude on wherever she had gone in her head.
Couples kissed , ducks honked, the boats were few and serene.
“What are you thinking about?” I asked her out of nowhere, not looking at her, I stared straight ahead as if still interested in the lake activity.
She did not answer me.
I did not respond either. I assumed I frightened her. Green hair, leather jacket, nose ring etc. I remained silent on the bench.
Oars splashed in the water…laughter echoed.
“Mahler,” she said.
I am sure she assumed that sounded Greek to me, but I know Mahler a bit, a little bit.
I smiled at her and asked “his 7th symphony?” as it is water themed.
“No.”
Silence.
And more silence.
“Kindertotenlieder” she said, she whispered.
We sat, not another word spoken.
Kindertotenlieder is a song cycle Mahler composed based on the death of children. Mahler later lost his daughter.
Sitting beside her, I could feel it, almost touch it, her thoughts, how they weighed on her. How lost she had become in them. Vivid only to her mind’s eye.
We never spoke again. But sat. I stayed until she left. How could I not?

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Kindertotenlieder