Mark Stryker

Whoa. New to me. Burning.

So to be clear, Jimmy says that Joe's name given by Mtume was Keytu?

Hey gang -- here's something I've heard but never seen a reference to. Someone once told me that Joe had a Swahili name given to him by Mtume, like all the cats in Herbie's Mwandishi band. Anybody know if that's true about Joe and what the name was?

Gang -- the search is over. I'm cool now. Thanks.

Definitely go the Jazz Record Center. Not that far from the Village and Fred has very fair prices. Last time I was there I got the Louis Armstrong Decca 1934-45 set and some Ellington broadcasts that I didn't have. Plus, a great selection of books there.

Gang -- I'm trying to track down a story about Joe Williams in the the 12/17/64 issue of Downbeat. I don't have that particular issue on my shelf. Does anyone have it, and if so, would it be possible to scan the Joe Williams piece and send it to me. I can PM you my email address should you have it. Many thanks.

Michael Bourne, 1946-2022 I am heartbroken to learn of the passing of broadcaster and journalist Michael Bourne, who died Sunday at age 75. Michael is best known for his decades as a signature voice of WBGO-FM in Newark, the jazz station for metro New York, where he was on the air from 1984 until just recently. But for a dozen years before that he was a fixture on WFIU-FM in Bloomington, Indiana, where I grew up. He was one of the most important figures in my early jazz education. Every afternoon his daily program, "There," opened new horizons for me. He introduced me to more music, from staples of the jazz canon to au courant releases, than I could ever recount. He had impeccable taste and a distinctive vocal cadence. When I did volunteer jazz radio programming on WEFT in Champaign in 1985-87, I imitated his pacing and copied some of his favorite phrasing -- "And upfront, on the tenor saxophone, Dexter Gordon." I still have the tapes -- they're amusing. More importantly, Michael was my first true mentor as a writer. I was in an accelerated English class as a sophomore in high school. For our big project in the spring, our teacher paired us up with experts or professionals in the community. I was already interested in writing about jazz, so I got matched with Michael. I would go over to his tiny one-room apartment and he'd talk to me about criticism, writing profiles, his radio work, his work for Downbeat, the importance of reading widely. I can't tell you how significant all of this was to me. There are still ways that I think about criticism that come directly from Michael and that I pass along to students today with my own little spin. Borrowing from Aristotle, Michael said a critic should always ask three questions: What is an artist trying to do? How well is he or she doing it? And was it worth doing in the first place? Michael edited things I wrote; so much red ink and all of it necessary! Just by observing his life up close, I was able to envision what a life for myself might look like in the arts, even if I didn't end up pursuing a career as a performing musician. I remember so much of those visits to his pad. To prepare for his radio show, he would time everything out with a stopwatch and write out his scripts longhand. But he wouldn't read them verbatim on the air. He'd use them as guides, speaking off the cuff to maintain an air of spontaneity. His written notes ensured that he didn't forget major points or historical details. He told me great stories about his encounters with folks like Dizzy Gillespie, Bobby Hutcherson, and others. The one that sticks out most is Dizzy in his boxers in a Chicago hotel room, sitting on the bed, smoking a joint, watching some soap opera he was addicted to, and yelling at the TV about how "that woman is a bitch!" Michael was definitely an eccentric -- a Falstaffian presence who knew his Shakespeare literally -- he had studied acting in college and earned a Ph.D in theater at Indiana University. He grew up loving opera, especially Wagner, but he also collected comic books as a kid. In fact, he had torn all of the covers off his childhood comics and plastered them over every square inch of the ceiling of his apartment. Quite the interior design choice. I remember thinking, "Wow, you mean you're allowed to do that as an adult?" A great lesson to learn at age 15. I asked him once why he liked jazz. Besides telling me the music that got him interested in the idiom in the first place -- Dave Brubeck's "Strange Meadowlark" and Art Blakey's "Bu's Delight" -- he had an interesting perspective and way of expressing it. He said he liked jazz best because about 70 or 80 out of every 100 jazz records released were worth hearing, while only 40 or 50 of every 100 classical records released were worth hearing, and 15 or 20 pop records out of every 100 were worth hearing. Whether you agree or not with the sentiment, what a clever and creative way to make the point! Through the years, whenever I met someone from WBGO, I would always ask them to give Michael my regards. I only spoke with him once since I was a kid. This was in fall 2019, when I was at WBGO doing an interview with Nate Chinen about my book, "Jazz from Detroit." A station official called him and handed me the phone, and I was able to express my appreciation. What a gift to be able to tell him what he had done for me. I was also able to inscribe a copy of my book for Michael and place it in hands that made sure he got it. The bumper music on his afternoon program in Bloomington, bridging his show and the start of "All Things Considered" was Joe Farrell's 1970 recording of "Follow Your Heart" -- a great song written by John McLaughlin. Follow your heart: That's certainly what Michael did with his life. R.I.P.

Just as an aside, since I'm writing about Sam Woodyard at the moment -- Woodyard's tenure with Ellington almost exactly parallels Payne's years with Basie Completely different style in that Woodyard, who like Sonny Greer, was fantastic colorist, expressly did NOT set up the band figures and make every hit like Payne did. Each cat was perfect for the band in which they played. And speaking of Payne, dig the windmills he starts throwing at his cymbal on 2 and 4 at the 2:22 mark with Sinatra.

"And if we could get a full accounting of the Columbia and RCA OT bands, we'd likely here that the change was both inevitable and necessary." Inevitable and necessary -- and likely more gradual than people generally think. Not that is was a straight line the Old Testament and the New Testament. I mean, hey ... JImmy Mundy, I think ...

Having always been aware of generally of a Sonny Payne backlash but having never looked closely at the roots of it, I always assumed that the folks who didn't like Payne were reacting to how much he differed from Papa Jo, not from Gus Johnson. And that this was actually part of the broader dialogue around the New Testament Basie Band, which some critics and others thought was an unfortunate turn away from the aesthetics of the Old Testament band. Am I wrong about this?

FWIW, in Basie's autobiography "Good Morning Blues" (as told to Albert Murray), he confirms Johnson's story and doesn't mention any bad blood in the band -- doesn't mean there wasn't any of course, but it's not brought up. Basie says: "... the guy we brought in to pinch-hit for Gus was Sonny Payne, and he came in and hit a home run with the bases loaded. That was not any reflection on Gus at all. Absolutely not, because Gus, even up to this very minute, is still one of the great drummers. He's got a great sense of timing, and he can hold things together. Everybody speaks of him as being a great man for backing a band. He can set things behind a big band or any kind of band or any kind of group. It doesn't make any difference. He's a great drummer even if he's just playing by himself. He can do it from on and two on up. He's just an all-around great guy to have in your organization. "But fate is funny thing. Sonny Payne came in there, and right away he touched off a new spark in that band, and we had to keep him as much as we loved Gus. Naturally, people noticed that Sonny was more of a showman than Gus was, but I wouldn't say that showmanship was what made the difference. It was not that easy. You can't see any stick twirling and trickerlating on those next records, but you can her and feel a difference in the band." "

Incidentally, Dance reports an October 1951 gig at the Savoy, opposite Jimmy Rushing's group, as the official start of the reorganized big band. Dance writes that "most of the arrangements were by Neal Hefti, Nat Pierce, and Buster Harding." Re: the Pierce arrangements, in his interview in the book, Pierce says, "Basie told me he was going to start another big band in a little while, and he said he wanted me to write some arrangements. Charlie Mariano, Sonny Truitt, and I wrote some and gave them to him and never thought anything more about 'em. Soon after that, I went with Woody Herman's orchestra and towards the end of 1951, we heard that Basie had gotten his band together one more time ... When I went to hear them, they were playing my arrangements and I said, 'Oh, wow, that sounds great!'" What is unclear to me from that statement is whether Mariano and Truitt contributed to Pierce's charts or whether they all wrote their own individual charts, but if it's the latter, did Basie ever play those by Mariano or Truitt?

In Stanley Dance's "The World of Count Basie," there i is a long interview with Gus Johnson. There doesn't seem to be any real drama or conflict. Johnson says he was with the band until December 22, 1954, but that the next day he was in the hospital with appendicitis. "I was there for 10 days or so when Basie wrote me to say that he had got Sonny Payne and that he was doing a good job. Basie like a lot of flash, and some of the fellows in the band thought sonny was better than me because he was more of a showman. Charlie Fowlkes told me later on that he (Charlie) fell and broke his kneecap, and Basie didn't hire him back either. The same thing to Marshall Royal when head to go into the hospital. Moral: Don't get sick!" (Obviously, Fowlkes and Royal were eventually rehired.) Johnson doesn't seem to have any hard feelings. He reports joining Lena Horne and making good money right after Basie, and then moving on to Ella.

The Lee Morgan idea is a good one.

Re: Big Band choices -- Thad Jones/Mel Lewis, "Consummation" (1970) is essential. There was a 2-LP compilation issued in the mid '70 called Thad Jones/Mel Lewis with the multi-colored cover that was great -- it grabbed tracks from all the early LPs on Solid State which by then was part of the same family as Blue Note. I don't know if technically those records came out on Blue Note on CD or if there were still on Solid State or if it was both. Except for the record with Joe Williams -- I think the CD of that is in fact on Blue Note. It's probably cheating, but there's some Basie Roulette material that appeared on CD under the Blue Note umbrella. The two Duke Pearson Big Band Records, Introducing and How Hear This, would definitely count, though I always felt like the whole was less than the sum of the parts, especially the first one. Haven't revisited them in a long time, though.

There are a zillion combinations of five Blue Note recordings I might recommend to newcomers. Off the top, these five would work. These records are not about introducing people to the Blue Note label per se but to jazz in a broader sense. I've recommended them all to various folks through the years, depending on the background, prior listening, and personality of the person I'm talking to -- though this is the first time I've ever grouped these particular five together. I tend to think about sound, vibe, and compositions when making suggestions to listeners new to the idiom. A list of my own favorites on Blue Note would of course be different, though I would note that Roll Call is my favorite Mobley record and Horace-Scope and Cape Verdean Blues are my favorite Silver recordings. Anyway, in chronological order: Sidney Bechet, The Best of Sidney Bechet Horace Silver, Horace-Scope Hank Mobley, Roll Call Herbie Hancock, Maiden Voyage John Scofield, Meant to Be

Never knew they were brothers either. Interesting!

Interesting. Would those same union rules likely been in place a generation earlier in the 50s and early 60s?

Here is a precious document. One of my heroes, the late poet Michael Harper, reading his work accompanied by Abdul Wadud. This was recorded in May 1971 at my alma mater, the University of Illinois, ten years before I first arrived on campus. Wadud sounds fantastic in this context, and it's a thrill to hear Harper read some of his greatest work, including "Dear John, Dear Coltrane," "For Bud," "Alone," and the Detroit-centric "A Mother Speaks: The Algiers Motel Incident, Detroit." (I cherish the six first editions I have of Harper's poetry, five of which are signed.) https://www.loc.gov/item/93842257?fbclid=IwAR3-Ouwhcf8em2ii4d8jqEd1FoHCmOdtmkMPdFh1qxYdT6Skd-HQGJnHok0

End of an era. Congratulations, Jack. https://www.cambridgeday.com/2022/08/12/stereo-jacks-records-packing-up-after-40-years-relocating-under-new-ownership-to-ball-square/?fbclid=IwAR3bXTf8lWjWSG-_-JJ5fETCDyzL3LrWIUyXssMCQWMeqG6erofcOYldD7I&mibextid=zpN4Kr&fs=e&s=cl

FWIW, “Round About Midnight” was recorded by Frank Laico and it sounds fantastic. Columbia had a real all-star team in those days.

Would appreciate photos or scans. I actually don't have that book. (Hangs head in shame.). Is there any commentary from Sam Woodyard as well? Also relevant ...

Gang, A friend (seriously) is looking for some information about who engineered Ellington’s Columbia records. Engineer credit was not given on the original LPs, and a lot of the CDs don't include this detail either. Masterpieces by Ellington was recorded by Fred Plaut at the 30th Street Columbia Studios, but it's not clear if Plaut recorded all of the Ellington sides of the era made at that studio. Also, as my friend notes, there are a few things recorded at Radio Recorders in LA such as Anatomy of a Murder, which ranks with the greatest sounding large-ensemble jazz recordings of all time, as well as the title track from Blues in Orbit and “Track 360,” the latter originally issued on Listening In Depth: An Introduction To Columbia Stereophonic Sound. The engineer isn’t listed in the album credits for this either. So, can anyone shed any light on this. Thanks as always. Coda: OK, late-breaking addendum. My friend find the booklet online for the UK Columbia box 1951-58 and it has some but not all credits. So now, the question is can anyone fill in the gaps here, as well as for the Columbia records from 1959-61. Parentheticals below are from my friend. • Masterpieces by Ellington: Fred Plaut and Harold Chapman (I assume Chapman recorded the 1951 session where the CD bonus tracks come from) • Ellington Uptown: Fred Plaut and Harold Champman (not sure which engineer recorded which sessions) • Blue Rose: Fred Plaut and Robert Waller (I assume Waller recorded Clooney’s vocals in LA) • A Drum is a Woman: no engineer listed • Such Sweet Thunder: no engineer listed • Ellington Indigos: Fred Plaut (“The Sky Fell Down” and “Cop-Out,” Harold Chapman (all other tracks) • Black, Brown and Beige: Lowell Frank (recorded in LA) • At The Bal Masque: no engineer listed • The Cosmic Scene: Fred Plaut

Part of the reason I'm asking is I want to write about Greer. (Spoiler: he's awesome, not just as a "percussionist' but as a swinger. On a related note, I think it's kinda received wisdom that Greer's time wasn't particularly steady. especially near the end of his tenure. But I'm not sure I can recall any recordings with him where the tempos dropped or speeded up appreciably. Of course, Greer was always a juicehead, and if there were tempo issues, these would typically reveal themselves more often on the road rather than in the studio. Can anyone cite an example of Greer fucking up the time?

Bingo! Thanks. Now the question is: Can we find a reliable citation?