Deck Us All with Boston Charlie

Christmas always has been the most musical holiday of the year to me. Our home was, and is, filled with music almost every hour of the season. My father would even move speakers outdoors to share our celebration with the entire neighborhood.
The genre was Christmas music with little or no exclusion. The playlist included Gene Autry, Eugene Ormandy and the Philadelphia Orchestra featuring the Morman Tabernacle Choir, Louie Armstrong and Duke Ellington, Jo Stafford surrounded by her children for “’Twas the Night Before Christmas,” (still among my favorites, a beautiful voice now all but forgotten,) even Lionel Barrymore and Ronald Coleman from a radio production of Charles Dickens’ A Christmas Carol.



One of the biggest selling Christmas songs ever was sung by an eleven year old girl from Oklahoma City.
 Other personal favorites include:
• Jethro Tull, with their progressive reworking of We Three Kings, particularly appropriate in light of the recent loss of jazz giant Dave Brubeck.
• The Roches, as showcased in their performance of several Christmas carols HERE.
The Kingston Trio, whose album The Last Month of the Year is my favorite album of Christmas music. It is not the usual collection of hoary old chestnuts roasting on an open fire, but rather a celebration of Christmas with songs outside the traditional canon, balancing the secular with wonderful celebrations of the sacred.
• And a special mention of Yale, Oklahoma born Chet Baker, whose unnecessarily tragic life is documented in the film "Let’s Get Lost." His collection of seasonal standards, Silent Nights, is far from his best work. The songs are short and the arrangements are tediously conventional. But every now and then you can hear, in an all too brief solo, the soulful, quiet genius that was Chet Baker.      
I’ve saved my absolute favorites for last.
• Stan Freberg, the comedian of the clever arrangements and impeccable production skills, produces a scathing indictment of the commercialization of Christmas in “Green Christmas.”
• John Henry Faulk was a folklorist, earning a master’s degree in that subject at the University of Texas, a radio and television personality, and life-long civil rights crusader. In the 1950’s he was a leader in the fight against the blacklisting of artists resulting from the rabid, paranoid, and eventually hatefully incoherent anti-Communist ravings of Joseph McCarthy. An accomplished storyteller, his reminiscence of a Christmas long past is an entertaining, moving, and finally joyful definition of the true spirit of the season. And although it makes no mention of the Star of Bethlehem, the Three Wise Men, the shepherds in their fields, the hosts of heavenly angels singing praises in glorious adoration, nor the birth of Jesus the Christ, it illuminates and celebrates the true meaning of the season better than any of the music above. Listen, laugh, and learn. Thou shalt love thy neighbor as thyself.

Henceforth and forevermore…

Some musicians change everything that comes after. And sometimes the contributions of those musicians are obscured by the success of their followers.

Turn somebody on to Bill Evans for the first time and you get the reaction, “Oh, he sounds like a thousand other jazz piano players.” And that is correct, but backward.
Before Bill Evans, nobody sounded quite like Bill Evans. After Bill Evans, everybody sounded at least a little bit like Bill Evans. His style, technique and musical sensibility changed the art of jazz piano and that of the jazz trio so essentially it is easy for the casual listener to completely misunderstand his influence.

Likewise with Miles Davis.

And need I mention Jaco Pastorious?

 

Of course, none of these artists sprang fully formed from the head of some musical Zeus.

All built on the foundations laid down by the giants that preceded them. The art of jazz piano was pioneered by the ragtime genius of Eubie Blake, the speakeasy barrelhouse style of Fats Waller and the towering technical prowess of Art Tatum.

For trumpet, start with Louis Armstrong, the Father of American Jazz (and all jazz for that matter,) the pure tone and classically informed improvisations of the criminally under-recognized Bix Beiderbecke and wonderful Big Band stars like Ray Anthony and Harry James.

The art of the modern bass guitar would not have been possible without Jimmy Blanton, bassist for the Duke Ellington Orchestra; Percy Heath, co-founder of the Modern Jazz Quartet; and of course Larry Graham, the monster who could “add some bottom, so that the dancers just won’t hide!” for Sly and the Family Stone. These are just a few of the giants on whose shoulders these artist stood.

Stephen Jay Gould’s theory of punctuated equilibrium theorizes that periods of gradual evolution of life on earth are “punctuated” by infrequent, frenetic, earth-shattering periods of change. So also did Evans, Davis, Pastorius and others too numerous to name propel the art of music forward in great leaps and bounds, creating whole new universes of music in single lifetimes.

What started me down this particular rabbit hole was hearing an interview with the immensely talented guitarist and composer Kaki King. When I listen to her, or other contemporary solo acoustic guitarists, I am of course immediately reminded of Michael Hedges. Michael was influenced by great solo guitarists like John Fahey and Leo Kotke. But when his training at Phillips University in classical composition, use of alternate tunings, mastery of unorthodox techniques for coaxing and sometimes literally beating new and ground-breaking sounds from his guitar(s) and unrelenting work ethic coalesced into what he once described as “Savage Myth Guitar,” he created an entirely new genre of music.

Before, nobody. After, everybody.

A walk down a musical memory lane

I attended my 40th Enid High School reunion last weekend. Everybody was older of course and some had changed considerably in size, shape, circumstances and world view. Some are not so different than their long past selves, and we struck up conversations as if the intervening years were mere days. Others, even some I was very close to in 1972, have changed so much that we had little to talk about.

We partied at the Moose Lodge Saturday night. The music was provided by Poverty’s Children, a local group that many of us danced to in the basement of the YMCA, or at the old American Legion Hall, or at the now demolished National Guard Armory, 40 and more years ago. The lineup is basically unchanged: Donnie Record on guitar and keyboards, Gene Mooney on bass, Steve Linn on drums and Bob Williams on lead guitar. When the opening chords of “Louie, Louie” came roaring out of the amps, the parquet instantly overflowed with wildly enthusiastic dancers and stayed occupied all night. Every band should play “Louie Louie!”

Just as I have kept in touch with some classmates since our days at EHS, likewise I have listened to and continue to follow musicians these 40 years later as well. Of course there are the superstars: the Rolling Stones, Bob Dylan, the Who, Neil Young, Elton John, Van Morrison, Leon Russell. Then there are artists who have been around for the last four decades laboring in relative obscurity, at least in America.

Jose Feliciano comes most quickly to mind.

He has released albums on a regular basis from the 1960s to the present. For those of you who haven’t kept up, you have really missed some great music. Feliciano is one of the best guitarists on the planet, and his original tunes are outstanding. But his greatest strength, and in this regard I compare him to Linda Ronstadt and Tony Bennett, is as an interpreter of songs written or made famous by other artists. He has a way of honoring the originals while putting his unique personal signature on them. His latest effort, The King, is no exception. A tribute to Elvis Presley, this August, 2012 release is a treat. From “Don’t Be Cruel” to “In the Ghetto,” the twelve covers here are imaginatively arranged and delivered with an irresistible soulfulness. I even find subtle nuance and surprising new depth to songs, as in the case of “Love Me Tender,” that I have been listening to for over 55 years. I strongly suggest you check it out and explore his entire catalog, especially The Genius of Jose Feliciano, Volumes 1 and 2.

Loudon Wainwright III has also recorded and released new music for decades without interruption. Unlike his 1972 accidental hit “Dead Skunk (in the Middle of the Road),” Wainwright’s real genius lies in songs of insightful and satirical observation as well as humorous, thoughtful, and at times, savagely honest autobiography.

Over the years he has written about a personal life many of us can identify with only too well as when he describes in coming to terms with his father’s death.
He sings of his marriage to singer Kate McGarrigle of The Roches, the difficulty of raising children (Rufus Wainwright, Martha Wainwright, and Lucy Wainwright Roche, all successful musicians,) the even greater difficulty of dealing with split households after divorce, the journey through addiction and recovery and in his newest collection, Older than My Old Man Now, mortality and legacy. From whimsically befuddled to cynically nostalgic, brutally introspective to yearningly hopeful, Wainwright ambles from birth to death, examining his past, present, and future life and in the process gives me a fresh and unique lens through which to better understand my own life’s journey.

Loudon Wainwright III "Older Than My Old Man" Live on Soundcheck 

I’m sure there are artists you listened to years ago and haven’t kept up with. Maybe you should look some of them up.

And a side order of country, please…

Musicians can be straight-jacketed by success. All too often their adoring public will only continue to adore them as long as they continue to sound pretty much like they always have.

Nat King Cole was a well established and successful jazz musician before he started singing in 1943. His first vocal hit was his own composition, “Straighten Up and Fly Right,” which sold 500,000 copies. He earned more money in one year than he had made in ten years as a jazz pianist. The same can be said for jazz guitarist George Benson. His 1976 vocal album “Breezin’” made him more money than his 13 years as a session player ever had. Success as crooners made it financially impossible for either star to go back to pure jazz. Like it or not, they had become pop stars.

To combat artistic stagnation, many musicians do side projects that allow them to stretch their musical legs. The Grateful Dead’s Jerry Garcia formed Old and in the Way, trading his electric guitar for an acoustic and playing bluegrass, his first love. George Harrison gathered long-time friends Tom Petty, Jeff Lynne, Bob Dylan and Roy Orbison for a one-off B-side single that turned out to be so much fun they recorded the wildly successful Traveling Willburys, Vol. 1. 

 

Rodney Crowell and Vince Gill recorded as The Notorious Cherry Bombs to play a different kind of Country than their usual fare.

Norah Jones, the jazz-blues-pop singer whose first album, Come Away With Me, sold 18 million copies and earned her 8 Grammy’s, has created a side project of her own.



The Little Willies, not unlike the Willburys, is a collection of five friends who simply wanted to play music together. Jones, sharing vocals with Richard Julian, leads the Willies not into jazz, not into pop, but deep into Country and Western music.

Their 2006 eponymous first album and the 2012 follow-up, For the Good Times, mine the depths of C & W from Hank Williams to Willie Nelson, Kris Kristofferson to Townes Van Zandt. Three standouts are upbeat and swinging versions of Bob Wills’ “Roly Poly,” Lefty Frizzel’s “If You’ve Got the Money, I’ve Got the Time,” and Johnny Cash’s “Wide Open Road.”

The oddest selection is “Foul Owl on the Prowl” from In the Heat of the Night, winner of the Best Picture Oscar in 1967. This appears to be the only time this song has ever been recorded commercially.

Two other songs are from true giants of Country and Western music; the Dolly Parton penned “Jolene,” where one woman pleads to another “Please don’t take my man just because you can,” and Loretta Lynn’s “Fist City,” where one woman warns another “I’m here to tell you gal to lay off my man if you don’t wanna go to Fist City!”

The last song on The Little Willies, “Lou Reed,” is one of the few originals on either album. And original it is. No spoilers here; suffice it to say it’s a nice easy ramble of a tune about a chance encounter with Lou Reed in a West Texas pasture.

Elwood Blues: “Ma’am, uh, what kind of music do you usually have in here?”

Female Barkeeper: “We got both kinds. Country and Western!”

The Blues Brothers

Listen:
The Little Willies – The Little Willies

For the Good times – The Little Willies

Come Away with Me – Nora Jones 
The TravellingWillburys Vol. 1 – The Travelling Willburys

Ellingtonia

Joe Jackson, the pointy-shoed, post new wave popster asking the question “Is She Really Going Out with Him” in 1979, has a new musical release, The Duke. The title refers, of course, to Edward Kennedy Ellington, known throughout the world simply as The Duke. The album covers a wide variety of the Ellington canon and is neither slavish reproduction nor pastiche but honest and sincere homage.

“Isfahan,” an atmospheric instrumental, is built around a beautiful and haunting melody that unfolds under the skillful hands and artful attention of guitar hero Steve Vai. “Caravan” features vocals by Iranian songstress Sussan Deyhim in her native Farsi. “Mood Indigo” starts in the string band style of the original 1930 hit and morphs into a New Orleans second line romp anchored by a wonderfully playful tuba. “I Ain’t Got Nothin’ But the Blues” is all over the place, opening with a light and chunky guitar riff that wouldn’t be out of place in a James Brown jam, sliding into a bluesy torch song, followed by a brief piano section echoing Ellington’s original, then back to James Brown, and finishing again deep in the blues. “I’m Beginning to See the Light,” could be Manhattan Transfer doing Gershwin and weaves the Duke Ellington Orchestra theme song “Take the A Train” into the mix to add some spice.

All in all, The Duke is a successful and enjoyable tribute to the greatest American composer of the Twentieth Century.

How do I know Duke Ellington is the greatest American composer of the Twentieth Century? Because Ralph J. Gleason told me so. Gleason was a music critic, disc jockey, record company executive, twice Grammy nominated writer of album liner notes, twice Emmy nominated documentarian, instrumental in the beginnings of the Newport Jazz Festival and founding editor of Rolling Stone, on whose masthead he remains to this day, 37 years after his untimely death at age 58 in 1975.

His love of music knew no boundaries. From the jazz of the 1930’s to the psychedelic explorations of the San Francisco sound of the mid 60’s, Gleason loved it all. He was as serious in his critique and illumination of Duke Ellington, Billie Holiday, John Coltrane and Miles Davis as he later was of Janis Joplin, the Grateful Dead, the Jefferson Airplane and the Doors. And everything in-between.

In the collection of his essays, Celebrating the Duke, Gleason’s keen observations and penetrating insights into the music and lives of jazz artists from the 30’s through the 60’s make obvious the fact that he loves not only the music but the musicians as well. Beginning with a short but thorough history of jazz and it’s uniquely American roots, he then chronicles the lives and music of 12 giants of jazz. There is no better introduction to the origins of jazz than this.

The book concludes with three pieces in which Gleason not only celebrates the Duke but convincingly argues that Edward Kennedy Ellington is the greatest American composer of the Twentieth Century. And I believe him.

“Ralph Gleason! I read him. He understands me.”

Miles Davis

Listen: The Duke – Joe Jackson

The Blanton-Webster Band – The Duke Ellington Orchestra

A 66 song collection from the Orchestra’s most productive years

Ellington at Newport/1956 – The Duke Ellington Orchestra

As live as it gets

Together for the First Time – Duke Ellington and Louie Armstrong

Two geniuses at the summit- or in the words of Mr. Armstrong;

“Maxnificent!”

'Not too slow, not too fast ...'

Let me give you some background on myself.
My dad was a hi-fi nut and I was in the second grade before I realized that none of my friends’ houses had state-of-the-art stereo equipment covering a whole wall of their living room.
My earliest musical memory is as a 4-year-old standing in front of a stereo speaker taller than myself with my ear pressed to the grill cloth listening to Marty Robbins sing “Out in the West Texas town of El Paso …”
I was fortunate enough to be exposed to a wide variety of music early on. I grew up listening to Bob Wills, Hank Williams, Ernest Tubb, Red Foley, Sons of the Pioneers, Tennessee Ernie Ford: the bedrock of country and western music. Of course in between Bob and Hank were Mantovani (of the cascading strings), Louis Armstrong, Arthur Fiedler and the Boston Pops, Duke Ellington, Rosemary Clooney, Mitch Miller and the Sing-Along Gang, and of course the inescapable Lawrence Welk and his Orchestra. And “Tubby the Tuba” by Danny Kaye.
I still have the first record I ever owned, a small yellow disc of Roy Rogers and Dale Evans singing “The Bible Tells Me So.” The first 45 I bought was “Love Is Blue” by Paul Mauriat and the first LP I bought was “Wheels of Fire” by Cream, a double album including the live almost 16 minute drum-driven frenzy of “Toad.” My first concert, ticket price $6.75, was Grand Funk Railroad in the Travel and Transportation Building at the OKC fairgrounds with Bloodrock as the opener. And a rockin’ time was had by all.
I have loved music for as long as I can remember. And although I respect all kinds of music and appreciate the varieties of musical expression, I do not love all kinds of music. So this blog will deal mostly with music I like. A recommendation or two. The long-forgotten musical gem and the overlooked new release. Maybe some books. The occasional rant or rave.
I end with words that have served me well all my life. Louis Armstrong introduced one of his recordings with this admonition to the band; “Not too slow, not too fast. Just kind of half-fast.” I will try to meet the high standards of Mr. Armstrong.