Larry Kart

Imagine what John McDonough was like in high school (of this I have some direct experience): The only 17-year-old in America in 1960 whose dream it was to be George Frazier.

About Gitler being insightful, I've always liked this comment on latter-day Raney: "There is, perhaps, a bit more melancholy in the sound, burnished by the passage of time to include Djangoesque, aural tears." There are number of such moments of the album. As for the misidentification of "Autumn in New York" as "Autumn Leaves," note that that track is credited to V. Duke -- that is Vernon Duke, the composer of "Autumn in New York."

Hi Clyde -- good to hear your voice again. That wonderful young bassist who died of a brain hemorrhage was Charles Clark.

Ira's insightful comments on the music in his "Momentum" liner notes leave no doubt in my mind that he listened to it. What probably happened is that some underling (if indeed Schlitten had any) or design studio person made a double goof (title and side/track agreement) on the jacket, and then Gitler's notes were "corrected" to match the error(s).

Only know the first McDougal album. Don't recall Jay Peters being referred to as any anything but Jay Peters. Speaking of the aptly named Chicago tenormen, in the '50s there was the fairly eccentric (in several senses) Haig Tchician. I think that's how the name was spelled -- it rhymed with "Bitchy-en." As I recall, he sounded like a very hung up, spastic JR Monterose or Shafi Hadi (very hockety, hiccup-y) and was known for his spectacular genital endowment, a la Joe Maini. According to Chicago pianist Stu Katz, Tchician carried in his wallet a nude photo of himself; when he fancied a woman he'd wordlessly show her the photo and often, so the story goes, that was enough.

Sorry -- I got a little incoherent there (typos, parentheses that have no close, etc)., but I hope it can be sorted out without need of a secret decoder ring.

That's right, Jim -- you're full of shit. Oops, forgot I was supposed to be eloquent. Actually, I haven't listened to enough of the Weather Report-and-later Wayne that you've cited to speak with any confidence about your vision of Wayne and the "new esthetic" (haven't listened to enough of etc. because whenever I've tried I've gotten bored, which of course may be be MY problem, but lack of curiosity and/for fondness for that with which I'm already familiar is not, or so I believe, one of my traits. In fact, I'd say that, based on what I have heard of the Wayne I think you're talking about, either Wayne's "new aesthetic" is so subtly "inside" that it escapes my (in this zone only I hope) too coarse-grained ear, or (this is, provisionally, what I really think) the subtlety is there but is more or less decorative, however elegant it can be at times (as on much of "Alegria" IMO) -- that it involves a seemingly wholehearted, un-ironic embrace of some rather sweet-toothy stuff: "Serenata," "Bachianas Brasilierias No. 5," "She Moves Through the Fair," etc. Again, the elegance and subtlety of the presentation is more attractive (at least to me) than I thought it would be at first, but on the one hand I hate that "vocabulary's been exhausted" stuff in general (and "in general" is the only way that's typically done and especially when it amounts to (as it so often does, though I don't doubt the sincerity of your "I've been hearing it from the git-go" response to Wayne and the "new esthetic") a reason why we should settle for much lot less than we used to as a matter of course and then agree to call this something "new" to boot. And where does the AACM come into this? Yes, I know about Roscoe, for one, pretty much blowing apart the notion that you could or should take a (certainly not his) solo statement as a direct lyric stand-in for the man himself, but it seems to me that there's such a big difference between the way any notable AACM figure actually sounds (and I think operates) and the way the Wayne you're talking about sounds and operates that the connection seems to me like one that may be subtle to the point of inaudibility.

I've always like Brisker's 1987 big band album "New Beginning," with L.A. studio cats plus Victor Lewis. Brisker is/was a unusually linear writer (virtually every part makes individual sense), and his own playing at the time was less caught up in modal grooves that it would be later on. One track in particular has burned itself into my brain, an at once humorous and very hard swinging version of "Be My Love," with blistering solo by Kim Richmond. Also, there's a fine chart on Shorter's "Prince of Darkness."

Ballads (if I have to choose -- because some swingers are perfect ("Get Happy," for example), though a good many others are too ring-a-ding-dingy). I think the Capitol "Willow Weep For Me" from "Only the Lonely" is my Sinatra ballad favorite. What he does with vowel sounds there, leading one into the next, shading his timbre, and god know what all -- all in the service of a really DEEP reading of the lyric and its mood. I once tried to write something about that performance as part of larger piece about Sinatra, and the task pretty much defeated me, just too many subtle, subverbal things at work (or at least "sub" my verbals). Whatever I did come up with at least one one good point I think, about how literally "cinematic" Sinatra's concept could be at times. An excerpt: "Listen, for example, to Sinatra’s 1958 performance of Willow Weep for Me, which appears on his famous album Only the Lonely --the more studied and solemn sequel to In the Wee Small Hours of the Morning (1955). Willow Weep for Me is an astonishing performance, both from the point of view of vocal control and poetic insight. Giving each syllable he emphasizes an appropriate tone color, Sinatra sweeps through the lyric with such eerie grace that by the end he has virtually recomposed Willow Weep for Me, even though he hasn’t altered the pitch of a single note or changed any of the original rhythms. Willow Weep for Me (Ann Ronnell wrote both words and music and dedicated the song to George Gershwin ) is a striking unity in itself, a kind of white blues number, if only in the way the chorus uses a call-and-reponse structure --"Willow weep for me (repeat)/ Bend your branches green/ along the stream that runs to sea" etc. Given this musical/verbal ode to self-pity, Sinatra deepens and transforms it. The words he choses to emphasize --"willow," "bend," "listen," "me," "gone," "sad," "none"--virtually become a poem within the lyric, one that is at once more abstract and more concrete than the original , depicting the song’s emotion even as it enacts it. And this sense that the singer stands just to one side of the feelings he’s singing about is nailed down by a final, very cinematic key change --like a dissolve or a dolly shot."

Bev, I didn't like that part of what they said either, though my favorite modern baritonist is Lars Gullin. (I think Gerry is more important as a composer-bandleader than as a soloist.) Again, though, the idea that Chaloff was Mulligan's model is absurd.

Also, some of the finest tracks on the set -- in terms of charts, solos, and overall performance by the band -- are those where Herman sings: Laura, I Wonder, A Kiss Goodnight, I've Got the World on a String, I'm Not Having Any This Year, Let It Snow, You've Got Me Cryin' Again, etc. And, of course, the very different Frances Wayne and Mary Ann McCall were among the best female vocalists of the big-band era, or any era for that matter.

I would hope that the authors of the "Penguin Guide" eventually would alter such gaffes as this (from the sixth edition, and I assume all previous ones): "The most important baritone saxophonist in contemporary jazz, [Gerry] Mulligan took the turbulent Serge Chaloff as his model...." Not only is there no evidence to support this lazy assertion (two celebrated modern baritone saxophonists, one must have influenced the other?), there is plenty of evidence that it is plain wrong -- including Mulligan's openly expressed distaste for Chaloff's playing and the fact there is no resemblance between Chaloff's typically agitated Parker-based phrasing and Mulligan's essentially Swing Era-based approach.

"The original issue of this Bill Potts album was a limited edition UA LP with a sketch on its cover. " That's the one I had. The sketch is reproduced on the CD cover. I listened to the first four tracks while on the way in to Chicago last night to hear clarinetist James Falzone (with cellist Fred Lonborg-Holm, bassist Jason Roebke, and drummer Tim Mulveena -- an excellent set; Falzone is a heady virtuoso; thumbnail description might be: sometimes Giuffre-esque concepts, Defranco-esque technique). Anyway, Potts' "Porgy" still sounds great; his charts have a falling-off-the-log naturalness/flow to them (he writes the kind of figures that, I'd bet, feel terrific to play), and in a subtle but surprisingly uncommon way (uncommon, at least, at this level of creativity and intensity), he writes for each section from deep within the character of its instruments. Thus, to make the obvious comparison that the subject of the projects brings to mind, Potts' orchestra is a choir made up of choirs, Gil Evans' is a coat of shifting colors where say, a trombone might have its "trombone-ness" significantly transformed or even denied, depending on the overall sound Gil was going for.

Sidewinder: I used to have the LP too (in mono, though). Somehow, somewhere, it went away, and I was thrilled when the CD came out, only to discover that the dropoff in sound quality between the vinyl original and the dubbed from vinyl CD was considerable (at least my memory tells me there was a big dropoff -- and the original was a very well-engineered date, probably recorded in one of NYC's better venues, Webster Hall). Still glad to have the CD of course.

Bruce: The only other Richmond album I have is "Range" (Nine Winds) -- from 1994, with Jenkins, Henry, LaBarbera. pianist Dave Scott, and trombonist Joey Sellers. It's very good, but "Ballads" is better IMO. I also listened once to part of a Richmond big band album that got a rave in the Penguin Guide -- "Waves," I think was the name. What I heard had its moments, but at times it seemed a little too stage-bandish, at least for my tastes. BTW, I first heard Richmond back in 1968 or '69, when he was a member of the celebrated U. of Illinois big band led by John Garvey, a very un-stage-bandish outfit.

Soulful and quite individual but also somewhat Charlie Mariano-esque veteran altoist Kim Richmond (he also plays soprano) has a gem in "Ballads" (CMG [i.e Chase Music Group -- whatver that is], rec. 2000--probably available through Richmond's website). Utterly locked-in rhythm section -- pianist Reggie Thomas (a bit gospel-ish and/or hip R&B-like at times, a la Donald Brown), bassist Trey Henry, drummer Jo LaBarbera (who makes ballad grooves move in just the right ways) -- is a big plus, nice guest contributions by trumpeter Clay Jenkins, Bill Perkins, Vinny Golia, terrific choice of tunes (e.g Never Let Me Go, Young and Foolish, I Wish I Knew, Lazy Afternoon, Street of Dreams are the first five tracks) and tempos/moods. Maybe I shouldn't like this one as much as I do, but it knocked me out the first time I heard it and still does every time.

On the CD issue, it says: "The master tapes to this ... session have been lost." Sometimes lost things do turn up, but I'm pretty sure that Cuscuna, who was involved in the reissue, searched very thoroughly. It is quite an album. Of all the recordings made by that floating group of New York session samurai from the mid-1950s to the early 1960s, this one IMO has the most esprit -- in part because Bill Potts' charts are as fine they are (mainstreamy by then currrent standards but fill of distinctive touches), in part because of the extra fire of the bass-drum team (George Duvivier and Charlie Persip -- not the at times rather clunky Osie Johnson, who was on so many of the dates from that time and place), in part because the sax section is THE sax section of that time etc. (Woods, Quill, Sims, Cohn, Sol Schlinger) and plays like they feel this music is really special, in part because the other sections have the top usual suspects plus a few apparently stimulating ringers (Marky Markowitz, Charlie Shavers, Harry Edison, Earl Swope -- Markowitz and Swope being Potts homeboys may have helped everyone get into the aspects of his phrasing that were a bit different than the norm, while Shavers and Edison draw a line of continuity to the pre-war big band scene, which was, after all, the source for this sort of music-making).

"Empty Room" is really soulful. Sal was a special player. A guy who reminds me of him a bit and is still around is another ex-Hermanite (I think), Frank Vicari. Don't know where to find much Vicari. He solos on an album I wrote the notes for a few years back -- (excellent) vocalist Anita Gravine's "Welcome To My Dream" (remarkable Mike Abene charts on the album's big band tracks) -- and a friend sent me a tape a few years ago of Vicari in a club with a local rhythm section.

Adding to the chorus -- I order more stuff more regularly from Berkshire than I should. It's mostly a classical outfit; the best I know for cutouts -- stock is vast (I think almost 14,000 items), new stuff pours in regularly, prices are great, and the good fast search engine makes finding out whether they do have something you want a breeze. Only caveat is that it usually takes about three weeks for your order to arrive (don't call and complain until at least a month has passed, if it does -- they can get snarky if you do, and over the years everything I've ordered has arrived). I think their slowness vs. outfits like Amazon (not really comparable, I know) is because Berkshire operates from an actual warehouse and adjacent store in the eastern U.S., and the typical Berkshire customer (that would be me, I'd guess) usually orders a bunch of stuff from different labels. I imagine aging Dickensian counterculture types (rejects from the Ben and Jerry's plant?) walking down endless aisles with long lists in their hands. Fitting that image, perhaps -- within the boxes (when they do arrive), the CDs are tightly wrapped and then taped in several layers of old newspaper, and if the order is large, say 10 CDs, there is no regularity (or particular logic that I've been able to detect) in how many of your CDs will be wrapped and taped into each of the various sub-bundles within the box.

The 3-cd set with Michelot and Humair is available here for $17.97: http://www.berkshirerecordoutlet.com/cgi-b...eth=Some&RPP=25

Sorry, I didn't mean the passage Deus quoted - -that was me -- but Chuck's account yesterday of his conversation with OP's musical colleague.

Deus -- "And?" The passage you quoted means that one of OP's distinguished partners whose presence alongside him you cite as undeniable evidence of OP's high musical worth in fact felt (and stated) that in his opinion OP's work was quite mechanical.

"Ray Brown, NHOP, Ed Thigpen, John Heard and the many, many other players didn't play with him because he's an ass or show-off. Just ask them (or read what they have said about playing with OP)." Deus -- Take a look at Chuck's account posted yesterday. He was talking to one of the players you mention above.

Jim -- I think I know what you mean by "glorification of the obvious," but I'd say it almost amounts to, when comping, to a simple refusal/inability to pay sufficient attention to what's going on around him. That Hampton disc is such a good example because you'd think it would be almost impossible not to respond to Hamp's thinking in a like-minded manner -- not only because his thoughts are so damn groovy and (in this instance) freshly minted but also because they're so irresistibly logical/tuneful/rhythmically compelling, a la those of Hampton's one-time boss, Louis Armstrong. Now that I think of it, some of Oscar's most successful work IMO (e.g. the Stratford album) seems to have been more or less worked out, worked up. No blame for that; it really works, but maybe he wasn't always that comfortable without his guys and their routines around him.

In the back of my mind, I knew there was a spot-on Jim Sangrey thumbnail description of what it is about Oscar's comping when he's in his autopilot bluesy mode that makes it so hard for some of us to take. JS wrote of OP: " Twangity-splangity-fleep-floop-doo. Leave no third or fifth unflatted and/or unbent, it's the house rule."