Monday, July 31, 2017

Jack Montrose and Pete Jolly

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Between 1985 and 1990, tenor saxophonist Jack Montrose recorded three sterling albums in Hollywood with pianist and friend Pete Jolly. What the three albums had in common was the music of David Holt.They also featured the same quartet: Jack Montrose (ts), Pete Jolly (p), Chuck Berghofer (b) and Nick Martinis (d).

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All three albums—Better Late Than Never (1985), Spread a Little Joy (1987) and Let's Do It (1990) appeared on obscure labels and two of the three don't seem to have been released digitally. The first two were on Slingshot Records and the third, which included trombonist Bill Watrous, was on Holt Records. I'm guessing that Holt had something to do with Slingshot as well.

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Mind you, these are hardly vanity albums for composer Holt. Montrose and Jolly had enormous respect for Holt and his music. All have storytelling melody lines, and you can hear the respect the musicians had for the music in their extraordinary playing. Holt's songs were superb by any measure. Yet these albums are somewhat of a mystery given their rarity.

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First, who was David Holt? Born in 1927, Holt and his family were lured to Hollywood by actor Will Rogers, who promised to find young Hold child-actor parts. But after Holt's father quit his job in Florida and moved the family to Los Angeles, Rogers refused to see them. Holt's father worked as a laborer while his mother tried to find work as an actor. Early on, his mother managed to win her son only bit parts in B films.

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Then in 1934, Holt was cast in You Belong to Me and became a child star. Paramount touted him as the male Shirley Temple, and Holt made 20 films over the next six years. He continued to land parts into the 1940s, but he suffered from anxiety and developed a troubled reputation. By the time he was 25 in 1952, his luck in the movie business had run out. [Photo above of David Holt, right]

To make ends meet, Holt turned to songwriting, which is probably how he befriended jazz musicians Jack Montrose and Pete Jolly. In the 1960s, he went into real estate and retired in 1985 at age 58. Which probably explains how he could afford to start record labels and hire Montrose, Jolly, Berghofer and Martinis to record his songs.

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Though Montrose appeared on many albums recorded on the West Coast in the 1950s—including a handful of leadership albums with baritone saxophonist Bob Gordon—he was mostly featured as a superb sideman and arranger. On Shorty Rogers's Plays Richard Rodgers (1957), Montrose was in the reed section and Jolly was on piano.

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But a serious drug habit made Montrose increasingly unreliable, sidelining him for years in the 1960s. By the time he straightened himself out, his heavy, melodic style of playing was no longer in vogue. Work in strip clubs and casinos followed. Not until the late 1970s and '80s did he team with Pete Jolly. And it's fair to say that his three albums of Holt's compositions were the high points of his career. Jolly was a magical, spry player, and a perfect foil for Montrose's meaty sound.

Perhaps Fresh Sound will re-issue these three albums in one two-CD set in the near future. The sound is great.

Jack Montrose died in 2006, Pete Jolly died in 2004 and David Holt died in 2003.

JazzWax tracks: Let's Do It seems to be the only one of the three albums that was issued on CD in the 1990s here.

JazzWax clips: Here's a track from each of the three Montrose-Jolly albums of Holt songs:

Here's Better Late Than Never...

Better Late Than Never

Here's Spread a Little Joy ('Long the Way)...

Spread A Little Joy ('Long The Way)

And here's Shore...

Shore

A special thanks to David Langner.

      

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U.S. Department of Labor’s OSHA, DJ Basin Safety Council Renew Alliance to Protect Colorado Workers

July 31, 2017 U.S. Department of Labor’s OSHA, DJ Basin Safety Council Renew Alliance to Protect Colorado Workers

from OSHA News Release http://ift.tt/2hhLW6O

Rescuing the Madonna Lily: Lilactree Farm Garden Notes, No. 4, 2017

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     ‘Gardening is an artificial practice…It is a set piece of three-dimensional drama and to keep the show running we cannot or should not be surprised nor aggrieved if we run into a range of frustrating obstacles. The picture created is a work of art, in its ephemeral way…’

                                                                             Christopher Lloyd, Gardening Year

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The Madonna Lily has begun to flower again. That’s no great triumph for the local gardener;  Lilium candidum is one of the staples of the English cottage garden and it is my own thoughtlessness or carelessness that has kept it from being a dependable success here.

Lilium regale and Lilium candidum

Many years ago it grew in our White Bed along with yellow-throated Regal lilies and gypsophila, but as that bed fell increasingly into shade, the lilies stopped flowering and most of the plants disappeared completely and had to be replaced by shade-tolerant species. ©Brian Bixley

One of the Madonna lilies refused to give up, each year producing a small basal rosette of slender dark green leaves, limp and morose, but no flowering stem rose up to remind us of its earlier glories. Could it be revived? Eleanor Perényi confessed (in Green Thoughts: A Writer in the Garden, 1981) that it was among ‘the lilies (that) have failed me utterly,’ and that though she had followed Constance Spry’s recommendation (Garden Notebook, 1940) to plant the bulb ‘in a trench filled with wood ashes…it didn’t work for me’.

One  of the pleasures of gardening is learning of a plant’s history and its geographical distribution. The Madonna Lily – also known as the St. Anthony’s Lily, because the medieval Church ‘associated it with the Blessed Virgin and St. Anthony of Padua’ – turns up on vases and in frescoes from the Cretan/Minoan period, 1500-1800 BC (An English Florilegium, 1987, with meticulous paintings by Mary Grierson), and we are told that its specific name – candidum – was given to it by Virgil ‘because it was of such a rich, glistening white’ (Curtis’s Flower Garden Displayed, 1981, from the Curtis Botanical Magazine, 1787-1807). It seems to have been first recorded from a distribution at ‘the eastern end of the Mediterranean’, and was subsequently spread by Roman soldiers because it was widely valued as a vegetable (I haven’t tried it) and for its medical value, so that its early domestication ‘roughly corresponds with the size of the Roman Empire at its largest extent in AD 117’ (Curtis). Among its therapeutic properties: ‘to soothe corns (presumably particularly valuable for legionnaires), to cure epilepsy and dropsy, as a treatment for baldness, and to take away the wrinkles of the face.’ (I  should try this, but I am never sure whether I am to eat the plant – its flowers, its fruit, its leaves, its roots? Cooked? Uncooked? – or to rub it on).

The recommended time for planting and transplanting lilies is the fall, but the Madonna Lily has a reputation for being difficult to transplant at any time, so I was far from confident that I could move successfully our remaining specimen. But nothing was to be gained by leaving it, and I was encouraged when I read in Mrs C. W. Earle: Pot-Pourri From a Surrey Garden (1897) that while moving ‘this beautiful, stately lily’ in October or November is ‘fatal’, it could be safely moved in mid-summer after its spring growth ‘had dried up and died down without flowering.’ We have the right alkaline soil conditions, we could give it a sunnier place in the Maple Bed where, as some of its neighbouring plants flagged in mid-summer, its basal rosette would be open to stimulating light.

In July, 2015, I nervously dug around the few scrawny leaves in the White Bed. Though I knew the leaves were dying back, I was anxious to preserve them, which meant finding the bulb – how deep was it? – without breaking their connection to the bulb.

Luck was with me. The bulb was small, as though it had been on a starvation diet,  the few scrawny leaves had an air of disbelief, and I wondered what hope there was for the bulb in its new surroundings. Lilies typically like deep planting, with 8cm (3”) of soil over the top of the plant but Lilium candidum is, the RHS Encyclopaedia tells us, a notable exception, preferring shallower planting.  The soil was amended to give the bulb a richer life; it was planted with about 5cm (2”)  over it.

The leaves stay evergreen beneath the snow and they were there, looking greener and perkier to my hopeful eye, in the spring of 2016. They were well watered in early summer, carefully watched for lily beetle, and the rosette looked steadily stronger, healthier.

Lilium candidum with Verbascum chaixii

Their neighbours included the tall Verbascum chaixii, but these finished a first flowering by mid-July and were then cut back, so that the basal leaves of the lily were not crowded or deeply shaded. ©Brian Bixley

The régime worked, and this spring, as a stalk with two buds emerged from the rosette, I knew that the Madonna Lily had returned.
Lilium candidum

The flowers are of simple beauty, ‘the invariable six-petalled chalice’ with a small yellow suffusion at the base, the stamens with delicate mustardy-orange anthers. Candid, white, but also a proud, annunciatory reticence[1]. Add a romantically caressing perfume and it is easy to understand why the renowned Irish gardener and garden writer, Helen Dillon, would describe Lilium candidum as ‘the loveliest of all lilies’. ©Brian Bixley

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Lindens

July the Fourteenth, Bastille Day and the lindens that line the Maze Path are, on a humming summer afternoon, in flower. ©Brian Bixley

There is a connection, in my mind at least, the will-weakening magic of the linden perfume reminding me of a passage in Iris Murdoch’s Under The Net. It is Bastille Day in Paris and ‘on that day the city lets down its tumultuous hair, which the high summer anoints with warmth and perfume.’ Jake sees Anna, the woman of his dreams, in the dense crowds watching the celebratory fireworks, her face lit by a street lamp. He notices her ‘unutterably graceful and characteristic gesture’ with which she gathered up her skirt from behind as she descends a flight of steps.

When the fireworks end, he tries to catch up with her as she walks off apparently unaware of his presence. Sometimes he comes nearer, seeing ‘a golden coronet of hair some way ahead’, sometimes she disappears momentarily in the dispersing crowds. She enters the Tuileries gardens, and when she stopped walking, he stopped too. ‘I wanted to prolong the enchantment of these moments…That she was thinking of me now, that she was ready for me, I could not after this long pursuit any longer doubt…I caught up with her and spread out my arms. “Alors, chérie?” said a soft voice[2]. The woman who turned to face me was not Anna.’

It is simple to tease out some of the intent and implications of this philosophical parable, its hints and signals slowly released to the reader over eight pages as we follow Anna through the Paris streets. For me, the passage provokes a tumult of emotions, of reminiscences, of memories, of excitement, of anxiety. I first read Under The Net when I was seventeen or eighteen. My recognition, partial no doubt, of the author’s overt existentialism, that nothing in the world was uncontroversially true because nothing was what it seemed, that the search for the real and true must inevitably lead to delusion, that life was  filled with questions to which there might be no answer, that morality was a social fabrication ‘used to keep the strong in awe’ and the weak in servitude, that rationality was insufficient, was an exhilarating and depressing turnstile into adulthood.

These and other thoughts surged back to me in the past few days as the sultry perfume of the lindens made me recall the sultry passage in Iris Murdoch’s first novel. ‘Gardens are not innocent playthings,’ someone wrote; they can often be the provocative madeleines of our imaginations and our memories.

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The lines from Christopher Lloyd’s Gardening Year reminded me – if I needed reminding – of the close association between gardening and the more traditional arts. In earlier Notes I have frequently been tempted into comparisons between gardening and poetry, gardening and music; more recently I have begun to think of gardening as a drama parallel to ‘real’ life with the gardener as the stage director coping with, as stage directors must, a text that is sometimes obscure and often obdurate, a set designer who irritatingly flits off to other assignments, and actors who are sometimes diligent and cooperative and at other times vain, capricious and even malevolent. The stage, the setting is critical; directors must manipulate it to bring lucidity to the text. But if gardening is, as I believe, the ‘most complex of the arts’, it is because of the serendipitous rôle of the elements, their capacity to make or break a performance. It is seldom one thing or another, but ‘a range of frustrating obstacles’ mixed with an offsetting range of blessings.

This spring and early summer, following a mild winter, have been almost all blessings. The low temperatures, particularly overnight, and the daily rainfall have combined to produce rapid and substantial growth and to keep flowering plants in admirable condition for longer than is habitual.

Tulip tree flowering

A good example is the tulip tree, flowering here for only the second time. The first fully opened flowers were celebrated on June 14; a handfull of the many scores of well-formed flowers persists a month later. ©Brian Bixley

Daphne alpina

The giant Daphne alpina at the driveway gate was in unblemished flower for at least  three weeks, its heavy perfume mingling with that of thyme underfoot. ©Brian Bixley

In both cases, typical summer heat would have brought flowering to a swifter end.
Abies koreana

On the Eastern Slope, the slow-growing Abies koreana  produced a fine clutch of its handsome  violet-green cones over foliage green above, white underneath. ©Brian Bixley

We sowed seed of this on February 25, 1989 and obtained four seedlings. Eventually planted out in less than hospitable conditions, three survived. It has taken almost 30 years for this plant, the largest of the three, to reach 105cm (42”) with a 90cm (36”) spread.
Two dodecatheons

Many visitors are surprised by the easy-to-grow self-seeding Shooting Star, Dodecatheon meadia, small  plants in the driveway rock garden, a white form as well as the rose-purple type. ©Brian Bixley

Most of the 14 or so dodecatheon species are North American, mostly from the West Coast, but D. meadia is ‘found in the American South, as well as the Upper Midwest, Kansas, New York, Pennsylvania and the Canadian province of Manitoba’ (Wikipedia). Hence it can be described in Canadian plant catalogues as ‘native,’ an appellation that will cause the plants to be healthier, grow faster and flower more prodigiously.
Hosta Regal Splendor

Our favourite hosta, ‘Regal Splendor’ looks as though it has been fed on Royal Jelly, as do many unwanted plants. ©Brian Bixley

Lilies other than L. candidum have experienced formidable growth and flowering;
Clematis

clematis, even the low-growing herbaceous species, have rocketed skywards. ©Brian Bixley

Above all, the impression has been of a fertile greenness as the toile de fond  for extravagant flowering both within and outside the garden, and the countryside has never looked more prosperously verdant.

Maureen and Brian Bixley, July 2017.

 

[1]  Voltaire’s ‘Candide, innocent of all innocents’. (Julian Barnes).  Shaw’s Candida, as one would expect, a more wordly innocence: ‘Her ways are those of a woman who has found that she can always manage people by engaging their affection, and who does so frankly and instinctively without the smallest scruple…Her serene brow, courageous eyes, and well set mouth and chin signify largeness of mind and dignity of character to ennoble her cunning in the affections.’

[2]  The feminine form, ‘chérie’, is puzzling.



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Sunday, July 30, 2017

Complete "Audition at RCA'

Aaaaa
A few years ago, I stumbled across a 15-minute black-and-white film called Audition at RCA directed in 1964 by D.A. "Penny" Pennebaker. Also known as Lambert & Co., the film features singer Dave Lambert and four young singers he assembled for an audition at RCA studios in New York with hopes of recording a bunch of singles. Known as Lambert & Co., the group—Mary Vonnie, Sarah Boatner, David Lucas and Leslie Dorsey—was formed shortly after the disbanding of Lambert, Hendricks and Bavan in early 1964.

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Over the past few years, I've featured posts on the film as I've gathered more information from different sources. A few weeks ago, I interviewed Penny (pictured) for my "House Call" column in The Wall Street Journal. While I had Penny, I asked him about the making of Audition at RCA.

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Rather than post his comments as a sole entry, I've decided to unite all of the information from earlier posts into a single post so it will be a one-stop read. Interestingly, Penny filmed Audition at RCA just before embarking on Dont Look Back, his Bob Dylan documentary in 1965.

First, let's begin by looking at the film so readers new to my long-term obsession are up to speed...

Here's the story behind the film, featuring my interviews with director D.A. Pennebaker, producer George Avakian, singer Mary Vonnie and Dave Lamber's daughter, Dee Lambert...

D.A. Pennebaker: In the summer of 1964, I knew Dave Lambert and I knew George Avakian. I was a fan of Dave ever since I arrived in New York from Chicago in the 1940s. I knew George because I had and still have a substantial collection of 78s that he knew about.

In 1959, I co-founded Drew Associates with Richard Leacock and former Life magazine editor and correspondent Robert Drew. At some point in the early '60s, we decided to build a film production studio in New York's diamond district at 56 W. 45th St.

Jewelers had been in the space but were robbed. They decided to move out. After we got the 9th floor, it was just a empty floor. As with any place you move into, you think you’ll be there forever so we had big plans.

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While we worked on the rooms, Bob Van Dyke, our audio genius, introduced me to Dave (above). I told Dave what we were doing and Dave said he was a carpenter and would happy to help us finish it. Dave turned out to be first-rate. We built little editing rooms and a place for a mixing studio.
Another friend, Mario, who also did carpentry, helped, too. We finished the place in a month.

At some point in ‘64, Dave told me he had assembled a new vocal group and that they were going down to RCA to see about a record deal. I know Dave was keen on recording his material as a series of singles because it would make him more immediate money.

He said the group, Lambert & Co., were going to record a demo of the songs they had rehearsed to see what RCA thought. I told Dave I’d go down and film them. He liked the idea.

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George Avakian (above):
From the film, it looks as if I had asked Dave to meet me outside the studio and that I was championing the session. In truth, I found out about the session only an hour or so before and had agreed to tag along in case I could be of help.

Pennebaker: What intrigued me about the film project was this combination of the “wild rabbits” and the “hutch rabbits.” The hutch rabbits were the studio musicians who lived in “cages,” got fed every day and were told when they’d be playing. The wild rabbits, by contrast, were the ones who came in with new ideas for a record. They faced more risk and higher stakes. I thought it would be interesting to film the two groups of "rabbits" working together.

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Avakian:
From the film, it looks like RCA Studios at 155 East 24th St., between Lexington and Third avenues. The guy in front of the dials is Ernie Oelrich [pictured above], a superb engineer. The musicians were terrific. George Duvivier was an absolute rock in the studio—he knew exactly what to do the first time, perfectly. The same was true of pianist Moe Wechsler and drummer Gary Chester.

Pennebaker: There were three of us operating cameras—me, Nicholas Proferes and Jim Desmond. Several years earlier, Albert Maysles and I had created a compact 16mm camera that could be mounted on your shoulder. The portable camera eliminated the need for a bulky tripod and made the film more immediate, fluid and journalistic.

Nick was in the control room with his camera and Jim and I were in the studio shooting Dave and his singers. There was no real direction from me, which is how I did Monterey Pop. Everyone had a free spirit to go with his gut. Then we’d edit the results later.

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We never told anyone to do anything for the camera nor did we say a word to them. Sarah took off her shoes on her own, and they moved around in a circle without coaching so Dave could see the musicians. [Pictured above: Sarah Boatner and David Lucas]

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Avakian:
The guy on the left in the picture above is Steve Sholes, the director of RCA's pop music department. The guy I'm talking to without a jacket is Ben Rosner, an RCA promotion man. He's probably the one who got Dave the audition, and Steve probably set up the session.

Pennebaker: As I was filming, I found myself most interested in Sarah, the African-American singers. There was something about her that was intriguing. My camera tended to be on her. Desmond’s camera wound up on Mary Vonnie.

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Mary Vonnie (above):
Back in 1964, I had just graduated from high school in New York when a friend who knew Dave told me he was looking for singers to start a vocalese quintet. My friend thought of me because he had heard me fooling around singing Annie Ross' solos in school.

I was very familiar with Lambert, Hendricks and Ross. I said I'd love to do it, so my friend arranged a meeting. I auditioned at Dave's apartment, where I was hired and met the other singers. Dave didn't say much when we rehearsed. He taught us to sing like an instrument. I was a trumpet. He was a sax. He taught us syncopation and how to sing just before or just after the beat.

We did some gigs in and out of town to get started. Some of them were at clubs in upstate New York, near Niagara Falls. I remember we went out in a boat to see the falls.

Then came the audition at RCA. As we all drove over that day, Dave was cheerful as usual and not noticeably anxious. We recorded 10 songs—Individualist Waltz, Think of Me, Leaving, Old Folks, Comfy Cozy Blow the Man Down, Old Folks and Comfy Cozy. All except Old Folks were written by Dave.

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Standing around the microphone, each of us sang our parts and kept it tight with the other singers. It's kind of an inside-outside focus of attention. You have to be very intent on precision but at the same time blending with the others while riding the music.

I don't know what happened with the audition and why we didn’t get a chance to make a record. Dave never explained. I guess I assumed we'd just do another one, but we never did. I do know that the group didn't have any official breakup. I think we were on hold for a while. I'm sure Dave would have followed up with other record companies if he could, but he might have been sick or out of commission at some point. I know he really wanted to do an album featuring his own compositions.

Avakian: I'm not sure why the audition didn't result in an album. I think the reason was that Dave didn’t have enough new original material for a full 12-inch LP. At any rate, the decision to do the album would have been Steve's. I was in charge of the overall department but Steve was in charge of pop. I wouldn't have overruled him or stood in the way of what he thought was best.

Pennebaker: I have no idea why it didn’t happen. They may have disagreed over whether it should be a series of singles or an album. Or perhaps RCA didn’t see the commercial value. Either way, it was sad.

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Vonnie (above with Lambert):
Dave was such a pleasure to work with, always funny and laid back and amazingly gifted. He was an inspiration to all of us, not only for his outstanding musicianship but the way he was able to make magic happen while teaching us his songs. It seemed like the sound he wanted was effortlessly transmitted direct from his head into our voices. To this day I remember the songs and I sing them or parts of them from time to time.

Pennbaker: Dave was killed in October 1966 helping a guy change a flat on a Connecticut highway. After Dave died, Art D'Lugoff, who owned New York’s Village Gate nightclub, held a benefit there. I couldn’t go. Someone knew we had shot the film and asked if they could show it. We never had edited the film after Dave was turned down by RCA.

Nick and I edited all the film and got it to the lab for a print the next morning. Later a guy came to me, a reporter form Germany, and said he’d seen the film and liked it and wanted to take it back to Europe. So we gave him the print.

Vonnie: The last time I saw Audition at RCA was at a memorial for Dave in 1966 at the Village Gate. I will never forget the great time we had together.

Pennebaker: At the end, when we saw them off, they all went home and we went home. People in the studio stayed in the studio.

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Vonnie:
In the years that followed, I was in a theatre company in Los Angeles called The Colony that staged performances at the Studio Theatre Playhouse. Then I was in a completely different field, working with people to enhance their lives. Today, when I listen to music, I like the Klazz Brothers, and I love Latin and salsa, which I learned to dance to at the Palladium in New York.

Dee Lambert: Though I lost dad’s manuscripts for the original songs you hear in the film in a fire in 1979, I did have transcriptions made from the originals and filed copyrights for them. I have lead sheets of the songs as arranged as well as take-downs done by a Los Angeles service (from the soundtrack of the film).

Pennebaker: Our cameras loved the group because they loved what they did so much. Each of the singers was so different. Sarah and Mary loved Dave, and each of the singers had their own spirit. They were the wild rabbits and they didn’t give a shit about anything.

JazzWax flicks: If you want to buy a DVD of Audition at RCA (Lambert & Co.), they are available through D.A. Pennebaker's site here.

JazzWax note: Mary Vonnie and David Lucas are still with us. Dave Lambert died in 1966. Leslie Dorsey became a cab driver in Boston and was killed in a robbery in 1988 (go here). I can't find the status of Sarah Boatner.

JazzWax clips: Here are five of the audio clips recorded that day, including Old Folks which was cut from the film...

Here's Individualist Waltz...

Here's Think of Me...

Here's Leaving...

Here's Old Folks...

Here's Comfy Cozy...

      

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Friday, July 28, 2017

Willie, Tina and Joe

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In The Wall Street Journal this week,
I interviewed baseball legend Willie McCovey, the former first baseman of the San Francisco Giants, for my "House Call" column in the Mansion section (go here). Willie talked about growing up in the segregated South, the slight his father had to endure and how he wound up playing major league baseball.

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Also in the WSJ,
I interviewed former Manhattan prosecutor and novelist Linda Fairstein on her favorite song, James Taylor's Fire and Rain, for my "Playlist" column in the Review section and how the song helped her through the terrible loss of a close friend (go here).

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And finally,
in case you missed it, I interviewed Steely Dan's Donald Fagen a couple of weeks ago on his new touring band made up of musicians in their 20s (go here). A few weeks ago I spent a few hours up in Woodstock, N.Y., as Donald rehearsed the band, the Nightflyers. A dream come true.

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Tina and Fathead.
Jim Eigo of Jazz Promo Services sent along this video clip of tenor saxophonists Tina Brooks and David "Fathead" Newman battling in the Ray Charles Orchestra....

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Jessica Williams.
Last week, I mentioned that pianist Jessica Williams was ill and in need of financial help (go here). Duff Bruce passed along a link to Jessica on Marian McPartland's radio show Piano Jazz in 1992 (go here

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The Voice meets Shorty. Photo above of Frank Sinatra and Short Rogers courtesy of Shorty's son Marshall Rogers, from his Facebook page. Frank and Shorty were on the film set of Man with the Golden Arm (1955).
 
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Bud and Shorty. Photo above of Bud Shank and Shorty Rogers in a Hollywood studio to record their album for Nocturn Records in 1954, courtesy of Von Babasin (son of bassist Harry Babasin).
 
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Muse Records radio.
In tribute to the late Joe Fields, "Symphony Sid" Gribetz will present a look at the Muse label on Sunday, July 30, from 2 to 7 p.m. (EDT). As Sid writes: "Muse Records was Joe’s biggest legacy, the record company that he ran from the early 1970's until 1996. As an independent label, Muse presented a wide array of uncompromising productions, delivering a snapshot of the jazz scene as it endured, and survived, through various iterations beyond the commercial ravages of the rock era. Muse championed younger artists like Woody Shaw, and stalwarts ranging from Sonny Stitt and Cedar Walton, to Pat Martino, Charles Earland and Houston Person, as well as vocalists such as Mark Murphy and Etta Jones.  Muse also recorded contemporary and less famous artists, and left behind an awesome catalog.
 
You can listen to Sid's show on Muse and Joe on your computer or phone from anywhere in the world by going here.
 
 
Fred-seibert
Fred Seibert on Joe Fields.
Fred, the founder and CEO of Frederator Networks and Frederator Studios, recently penned a lovely essay on Joe and what Joe taught him about producing albums (go here). Fred is a dear friend and the genius behind the MTV logo. Read my interview with Fred on the logo's creation in 2011 here.

To read my two-part interview with Sammy in 2010, go here

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SWR Big Band Plays Sammy.
Germany's SWR Big Band is out with a new album—A Cool Breeze—featuring the wham-bang arrangements of Sammy Nestico. You'll find A Cool Breeze here.

You'll find my two-part JazzWax interview with Sammy Nestico here (a link to the second part is above the red date at the top in Part 1)

Walter-wanderley-summer-samba-samba-de-verao-verve-2
What the heck.
Nosing around YouTube the other day, I came across this clip of Walter Wanderley's Summer Samba (So Nice) from 1966. It's being fed through a board that cleans up the sound. I have no idea what the board does or how this technology works (Tom Fine?), only that Summer Samba sounds great cranked up...

Oddball album cover of the week.

Music-for-listening

Wish I could have been in on the meeting that green-lighted this album. Pitch probably went something like this: "Boss, I have a great idea. Are you ready? I mean you're going to really love it. Totally original, never been done. We create an entire album of music that's—are you ready?—just for listening. That's it. Just listening. Great, right? My girl checked and it's never been done before. Ever. We own the concept. Crazy, right? They put it on and they listen."

       


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