“this is NOT a memorial service,” Rev. Amandus Derr happily intoned in his lengthy opening remarks. Rev. Derr is Sr. Pastor of St. Peter’s, the Jazz Church in N.Y.C. where the pews were packed to raise high our praises for one of the greatest musicians and personalities in jazz, if not all music. CLARK TERRY. the nonagenarian lost both legs to diabetes and has not been in generally good health for some time. we WERE there to more than just defray his medical costs.

there were nearly four dozen performaners with as many more musicians auditing the proceedings: pros, colleagues, students, amateurs, acolytes, celebs, friends and fans cheered from the sidelines.

the subject checked in via Skype with devoted spouse Gwen at his side. with humor intact “Mumbles” even gave us a couple of bars of that unique vocal style.

CT & Gwen's Skype cameo. (photo Ed Berger)

the Terry twosome joined in writing the autobio entitled simply “Clark.” it’s a series of short chapters filled with joyous vignettes of a life spent on the road, in bars, clubs, concert halls, studios, and hospitals, and just hanging out. a quick read, the book opens with a line about his boyhood friend “Shitty.” how can do you put down a tome which opens with a dude named “Shitty”?

after preaching to the choir about Clark at the St. Peter’s do Dr. David Demssy, the sax-playing president and curator of the jazz archives at William Paterson University in N.J. played a tune with Clark’s latest trio: Helen Sung, Marcus McLaurine –the music coordinator for the event– and Syivia Cuenca, exemplifying what jazz is all about: the tones of the universe.

Dr. Demsey did a masterful job hosting. the musical fare were all familiar; the instrumentation ditto, but it was the joie d’vivre and love encompassing the night and the man that was the feature.

Lew Soloff & Wycliffe Gordon plunging for CT  (photo Ed Berger)

the musicians came on, had their musical say and were whisked off. if not for that we would have been there all night. as it was they literally locked the doors behind me. that never would have happened under the Revs. John Garcia Gensel and Dale Lind, who was on hand to offer his benediction.

i guess we have to be thankful that we still have such a place to worship our gods and celebrate camaraderie, often taking the corporeal form of personages such as Clark Terry.

all proceeds went to Clark for expenses via the Jazz Foundation of America. the musicians worked pro bono.

grand finale w/some of the musicians: Bryan Davis, Conrad Herwig, Don Sickler, Bob Kindred, Lew Soloff, Art Baron, ?? (photo by Frederic Sater)

- © arnold jay smith

April 2012

LINKS OF INTEREST 

www.jazzfoundation.org

International Jazz Day Mon. Apr. 30. in New Orleans and on WBGO-88.3 FM & www.WBGO.org.

PRESIDENT JIMMY CARTER’S VALIANT ATTEMPT TO RE-OPEN CUBA WITH JAZZ MUSICIANS CELEBRATES ITS 35TH ANNY.

PRE-RAMBLE

It’s early May 1977. my first wife and i are going through a divorce. my kids, Jeanne, 10, and Russell, 7, and i have just returned from a weekend mountain-top Bluegrass Festival in Amcram, NY. we attempted sleep up there as well. that is to say we brought sleeping bags with us. we left the Amcram Mountain early Sunday spurred by my daughter’s remark that the Sunday Sunrise Service was not to her liking, “daddy,” she opined, “i like yesterday’s music better.” (Bill Monroe, et al. ) seems the whiney c&w service was an experiment for the Festival; definitely not bluegrass. i must admit i was real proud of her at that moment. her daddy’s lobes?

after driving them to their mother’s home on Long Island i’m about ready to collapse into my convertible couch in my studio apartment in the Village, which was not much bigger than a walk-in closet. but as East Coast Editor (sic) for Down Beat i had to retrieve my messages,

one was from my friend David Amram, the phone message which would change my life. “Arny. i’m going to Cuba with Diz, Fatha, Stan and others. i’ll call you when i get back and we’ll do a story, Pops.” like Louis David calls everyone “Pops.” they were to cruise from New Orleans on a ship. what kind of a ship? a tramp steamer no doubt under cover of darkness for sure. just like one of those classic noir radio dramas, i romanticized.

i listened again to those strange combinations of words coming from the answering machine. “Cuba? with (Cubop progenitor and legend) Dizzy Gillespie?” during the Cuban embargo no less, in effect since the early 1960s? aloud i said to the machine, “going to Cuba?! not without me you’re not.” this was the antidote to my blues.

without looking at the clock –it must have been early in the a.m. still Amram time– i rang-up David. “who do i call to get on that Cuba gig?” seems it was a Jazz Cruise leaving from New Orleans in less than a week (mid-May). adrenaline rush. couldn’t sleep. i called. it was still early that Monday.

SECURING PASSAGE AND LINING UP THE GIG

the Cruise Company’s first response was a discouragingly curt, “we’re fully booked. with a full complement of press representatives.” then almost as an afterthought, “you need a visa, a letter that you’re on assignment, and, oh yes, F.B.I. clearance.” (do they call that vetting these days?) came more info. i thought i heard a snicker when he said “F.B.I. clearance,” that takes months, if at all, especially to Cuba. who has that?

i did! i was bonded by the Fed when i was an over-the-counter trader during an earlier Wall St. career. (see “About Me” on my home page.) but was it still effective? i had done some work for the then fledgling Nasdaq so i made calls to people i knew at securities agencies in N.Y. and D.C. i still had clearance, and it came with the required visa. my passport, which i always keep up-to-date, was.

Down Beat did not quite leap at the idea. their skepticism faded when i offered to pay half the fare. but they were not to have exclusivity. i made up for the balance by soliciting assignments from former affiliations, Variety and Billboard. eventually that consortium of publications grew to a total of five (5) with the addition of columns for Newsday alternating with Amram, and a long piece with photos for a classy Spanish language glossy publication, Nuestro.

all i now required was an airline ticket to New Orleans, returning from the Bahamas to the States (more on that later), which a friend secured with dutiful urgency.

all of the above was a sequential preamble series of events culminating in the most exciting trip of my life, then and now.

NEW ORLEANS

it was my freshman visit to the Crescent City –it was Spring Break as well– and i was there for only the overnight prior to boarding the Greek registry S.S. Daphne. what kind of name is that for a freighter?, i thought. anyway, i made the most of those few hours walking the famous streets, visiting the infamous boites, imbibing drinks i had never heard of as i strode..

here’s the deal as i remember it, quaint by today’s standards: as a U.S. citizen you weren’t permitted to travel to Cuba from a U.S. port. (Canadian trips were, and remain available.) and you weren’t permitted to re-enter the U.S. directly from Cuba. hence the reason our return port of entry was the Bahamas. we had to make our way home from there. on our own.

but i digress. while in N.O.LA we partied through the night. i wended my way back to the hotel for a quick rinse and a nap –it was already daylight– and thence to the ship docked at the foot of Canal St. on the Mississippi, hidden behind some warehouses. that scenario was more as i had envisioned it. did i hear sound effects, foghorns perhaps?

not! as i approached the pier i could hear crowd noises, more jeering than cheering. tor public consumption the trip was supposed to be an innocuous Islands Cruise. Pres. Carter was doing this surreptitiously and on his own initiative; he was trying to get a U.S. foot in Fidel Castro’s door then pry it open. it was nothing if not unprecedented.  the Hispanic citizenry (in self-exile?) objected, loudly.

protesters in N.O.

CONFRONTATIONS IN PORT

word had leaked to the Hispanic press and from them to the general media of our real destination, Havana. radio, tv, print were all present, in various languages. this was, after all, multi-cultural New Orleans. they were supposed to steer clear of the passengers and crew, but their bullhorns and placards were a-buzz including a pooled television crew on board. and then there were the attendant bomb threats. talk about stressful.

tv pool interviewer w/crowd in N.O.

tv interviewer w/N.O. street band

all of importance were interviewed and as we were sworn to secrecy, no one offered anything to the probing press crews. i don’t know how many of the passengers were aware of it, but we later learned there were ex-pat Cubans aboard with gifts such as food who were trying to get home to visit relatives. they were intercepted and may even have been arrested when we got into Cuban waters. the noir-ishness was coursing through my fecund imagination. we found out later how close we all came to that fate as well. or worse.

local media departed. bomb crews cleared us. promises were made by some of us to return to Nawlins to be debriefed. we didn’t know the (un)official line at that time about returning. we heard “castoff” and we slowly made our way down the muddy Ol’ Man towards the Gulf of Mexico.

LAISSEZ BON TEMPS ROULER

the historic jazz partying of a lifetime was about to commence. and we were all atwitter about it.

did i mention that the S.S. Daphne was not a freighter but a luxurious, if intimate, ocean liner?

S.S. Daphne docked in N.O.

to be continued.

- © content & photos arnold jay smith

April 2012

LINKS OF INTEREST:

Hot House Mag celebrates its 30th Anny: www.hothousejazz.com

N.Y.U. Jazz Fest 2012 celebrates Sy Johnson Friday, May 4, 9:30p in Skirball Center: www.steinhardt.nyu.edu/music

for Newport Jazz Fest 2012 updates: www.nreportjazzfest.net

PIONEERING BANDLEADER FETED AT TRIBECA

in a  two-parter the pioneering bandleader JAMES REESE EUROPE was celebrated at the Tribeca Arts Center at Borough of Manhattan Community College in Feb. part one presented by historian/author Krin Gabbard was a panel. some survivors of Europe’s family were in the audience and from the look of them there will be more. there was a brief film excerpt from Ken Burns’ Jazz. other than that Europe remains a shadowy figure murdered too early for him to have made a further impact, other than being the first black troop leader in WWI, and a bandleader there as well. not an inconsiderable feat in 1918.

on another night RANDY WESTON’s African Rhythms Orchestra dedicated a concert to Europe also at Tribeca/BMCC. Weston’s patter on Europe did not enlighten us much on the man but some of the selections performed expanded our knowledge of the music he played.

WHO WAS JAMES REESE EUROPE? 

the fact that he existed and prospered at all was amazing. the music was ragtime and Europe composed, arranged and played it on the African American music scene in NYC in the 1910s. he organized the Clef Club, an African American Music society and in 1912 his band made history when they played Carnegie Hall 26 years prior to Benny Goodman, and John Hammond’s From Spirituals To Swing concerts there, and more than three decades before Duke Ellington’s series began in 1943. Europe’s was a benefit for the Colored Music Settlement School.

EUROPE IN EUROPE

the following year Europe recorded some of the best examples of pre-jazz extant. while a senseless war –is any otherwise?– was killing young people in the mud in France in 1918 Lt. James Reese Europe organized the first and only African American fighting and playing unit. his band not only took up arms but spread jazz throughout the Continent for the first time.

Europe led the 369th Infantry regiment, “The Harlem Hellfighters,” so-called because they rose from the trenches with such suddenness firing as they went. the Hellfighters did not lose a man neither in battle nor to the influenza pandemic. they travelled over 2000 miles in France performing for the British, French and American military as well as for French civilian audiences.

he was killed by a band member after the war.

RANDY WESTON’S DEDICATORY CONCERT

any reason to hear Weston’s African Rhythms Orchestra is a good one, but especially fine when the septet drives with purpose. this night they mixed their signature tunes such as The African Family, African Village Bedford Stuyvesant with W.C. Handy’s Memphis Blues, Weston’s Mobile Blues, Waltz for James Reese Europe and Hellfighters Blues. A Night In Mbari rounded out the evening with the added pleasure of an encore, African Sunrise.

the band? what more can be written? these guys come to play! they infuse Weston’s music with his imprimatur; it’s almost sacred. Alex Blake’s bass strumming vibrates you; Neil Clarke’s hand percussiveness pounds at your heart; T.K. Blue’s plaintive saxophone reaches your soul; the brass section, Robert Trowers, trombone and Howard Johnson, tuba adds color.

aboard for the ragtime feeling was banjoist Ayodele Ankhtawi Maakheru, but not playing the instrument a la New Orleans. his approach is more along the lines of the African multi-stringed kora thereby making it truly African-American. and tying in the African Rhythms Orchestra with James Reese Europe’s musical attack.

- © arnold jay smith

March 2012

HIS MUSIC ENDURES DESPITE HIMSELF

that’s an interesting premise. he was controversial while he lived and remains an enigma. Stan Kenton, towering physically, hired some of jazz’s greatest arrangers and let them have reign. names like Shorty Rogers, Pete Rugolo, Bill Russo, Manny Albam, Robert Graettinger, Johnny Mandel, Gerry Mulligan, Neal Hefti, Bill Holman and Johnny Richards

his female singers began the vibrato-less, cool trend:  June Christie, Chris Connor and Anita O’day.

he featured Latin percussion, nay, gave them prime seating, often down front rather than the traditional rear. sidemen went on to greatness (see below).

even in death he was controversial. his head remains in a cryogenic state and he refused in his will to allow survival bands in his name.  yet his music endures.

those arrangers and reflections of his sideman were celebrated by the Manhattan School of Music in two concerts in February and March: “The Innovations Orchestra” and “Big Band Retrospective.” Wynnton Marsalis and the Jazz At Lincoln Center Orchestra also dedicated a weekend to the Kenton Centennial.

MANHATTAN SCHOOL OF MUSIC JAZZ PHILHARMONIC ORCHESTRA

for the initial concert with its dedication to the late educator, percussionist and MSM alum, Clem DeRosa (see my blog), conductor Justin DiCioccio opted to present the “often inaccessible” Kenton.

as if “Artistry In Rhythm,” the Kenton band’s theme, isn’t enough of an American musical icon, the band’s opening gambit alluded to Gershwin. perhaps that wasn’t merely an allusion as the Kenton/Rugolo arrangement is similar in concept to Gershwin’s Rhapsodies and Preludes. most of the remainder of the pieces have rarely been “reformed.”

the orchestra dug right in with the Pete Rugolo Innovation Suite: ”Mirage,” “Interlude,” “Machito.” and “Conflict.” originally performed by the Kenton 43-piece Innovations in Modern Music Orchestra, the Suite included classical as well as jazz devices weaving in and out of written improvisations with the occasional solo. those cross cultural goings-on harken to John Lewis and Gunther Schuiller’s Third Stream experimentation. other writer/arrangers who signed on for 3rd Stream were J,J, Johnson, who later partnered with Kenton alumnus Kai Winding, and Albam.

some in the mostly sold out Kenton fanatic audience were already squirming. whispers were heard to ask,”are they gong to swing?” “will there be something we can hum?” then there were those who proudly called out that they had a 2-sided 78 rpm recording of some rara avis. i imagine Kenton himself endured any number of brickbats when he played these pieces in 1950-51.

Russo’s Improvisation goes still further afield. the total improv near the close is a precursor to the “free jazz” movement of the 1960s strings and all. i had never heard much of this; i was hooked, and hypnotized.

other innovative pieces followed some with titles i remember others less so: Lonesome Road, Shelly Manne, written by Kenton for his then drummer, Evening in Pakistan, Albam’s Latined Samana, Russo’s Ennui, and Kenton’s own Opus in Pastels. but the piece which remains in my mind was the famous City of Glass.

the Graettinger piece is easily the most artistic in terms of strength of composition and depth of intent. it is an atonal work as in Alban Berg. but did he swing? does City of Glass “swing” ? there is room for sax and brass exclamations as only Kenton’s could, but as the program notes assert you have to dig for the jazz as it is  hidden and abstracted. but then again, that’s what Kenton was all about.

the stuff sounded like it was written tomorrow.

HITS OF THE ’40S, ’50S AND ’60S

we’re talkin’ sidemen emphasis here: names like Manne, Mel Lewis, Art Pepper, Stan Getz, Zoot Sims, Maynard Ferguson, Rogers, Pepper Adams, Laurindo Almeida and the vocalists mentioned above.

the more-than-capable students hit us in the face on Artistry Jumps, another Kenton flag waver. but it was his Latin side which most affected me as a jazz comer. my parents loved to dance so we had all the big bands in the house. as a pianist i led a small group beginning in JHS. the drummer was Terry Snyder’s nephew. Snyder was the house drummer for many back-ups including Columbia a & r man Mitch Miller and RCA vocalist Perry Como. it was Snyder’s 78 record collection which added zing to our understanding. interestingly no Stan Kenton. “couldn’t dance to it,” came the reply to my query.

i investigated further and discovered The Peanut Vendor with its multi-layered Latin rhythms and instrumentation including a Winding trombone solo. Vendor was the first Cuban hit to enter these shores via radio and Desi Arnaz. (a later Kenton congero Candido Cemero was in the audience.) there was a very Latin-ed “rhythmelodic” piano solo followed by clarinet and flute which added some spice to the arrangement.

Kenton was just warming up in 1945 as was the band this night. Russo’s 23⁰ North-82⁰ West opens with a clave count-off and soars from there.

a word about the band. the ensemble, consisting of students who can read as well as improvise, is an enthusiastically well-rehearsed –by DiCioccio– 17-19-piece affair augmented by additional percussion. while not as many hand drum players as Kenton’s –who often added some half dozen plus band members doubling on “toys”–  you get the point. i had heard that some students only wanted to do the hits as the Innovations Orchestra concepts were too difficult. DiCioccio insisted they play both or neither. the students rose to the occasion with two concerts which were nothing short of breathtaling.

they reprised Opus In Pastels with the sax section in the ascendancy. it was all written and pre-arranged, and beautiful. a couple of Kenton charts followed: Concerto To End All Concertos, with its challenging rhythms, and Dynaflow, named for Stan’s car (?).

the first half featured two re-worked standards: Porter’s Love For Sale (Rugolo) and Mandel’s A Time For Love (Hank Levy). but it was the second half which featured that dance band side of which the Kenton band was less critically popular.

Bob Haggart’s composition What’s New? shows what Kenton could do with a ballad. the melody is understated in this first of a quintet of Holman pop charts, while the ensemble is foremost. Stella By Starlight (Victor Young’s music from a ghost story flick called “The Uninvited”) is another ballad but with the added fillip of an up-tempo middle section.

drummer Mel Lewis spent a great deal of time in the Kenton organization. the heavily rhythmic influences on Porter’s I’ve Got You Under My Skin utilize his concepts. it’s a straight ahead jazz blower with soli.

every jazz band worth its arranger has one on Ray Noble’s Cherokee. the MSM/ Kenton band is no different. it’s all Holman with saxist Cam Collins featured. ensemble is key in one of Holman’s more famous charts on Stompin’ At The Savoy. you don’t have to know the lyric to this world-famous Benny Goodman-Chick Webb melody. it’s the Swing era incarnate. for those who suggest that the Kenton band lacked swing, listen up!

Kern’s Yesterdays, the last we hear from Holman for the night, featured Jonathan Ragonese’s tenor sax. concluding, Mulligan weighed in with a piece he was to use in one form or another, big band or small ensemble, for the rest of his life, Limelight.

THE LINCOLN CENTER JAZZ ORCHESTRA

it was your classic momenta of musical comparisons, a journalist’s dream. Wynton Marsalis and the Jazz@Lincoln Center Jazz Orchestra decided to ignore Stan Kenton’s dictum that swing, while important, was not the only thing. Kenton put swing on the back burner in favor of conception, composition and rhythm. not so the JALCJO. damning with feint praise may i offer that while expertly performed, every tune had the swing for which they are famous. (the Marsalis canon?) an interesting concept, which the audience loved, cheeerd and stood up for. (there were two shows; i was at the Sat. night show.)

when i walked into Rose Hall i was sorely disappointed not to see Latin percussion. how in hell, i thought, are they going to play Stan Kenton’s Music sans hand drums? easy; just make everything 4/4 “ching-a-ding.”

it was all there: the famous tunes; the charts by the famous arrangers (see above); even a bonus or two such as the Lecuona/Holman Malaguena. but the feature of the night was guest artist, and Kenton alum, alto saxist Lee Konitz. the 80+ year-old veteran of innovative bands and groups led by Claude Thornhill, Lennie Tristano and Mulligan played two tunes, My Funny Valentine and Lover Man in the first half which had the band, with which i presume he rehearsed, paying close attention. Konitz jammed with them after the interval. tenor saxist Victor Goines told me later that they really enjoyed working on Kenton’s music. it showed in their enthusiasm.

Mulligan was represented by two selections this time, Limelight and Swing House. other surprises on the program included Kenton’s Southern Scandal, Holman’s In Lighter Vein and Zoot, Russo’s Portrait of a Count and My Lady. solid choices all.

personally i would  have preferred more tonal color for which Kenton was famous, and less swng, for which he wasn’t.

in the final analysis, the crowd went wild. what do i know?!

- © arnold jay smith

March 2012

LINKS OF INTEREST:

James Moody Democracy of Jazz Festival and Sarah Vaughan Vocal Competition: http://njpac.org/moody/default5,htm

for Jazz Standard’s 10th Anny line up: http://www.jazzstandard.com

CATACLYSMS OF BIBLICAL PROPORTIONS ROCK HAWAII’S SOCKS

you all know the Hawaiian picture post cards: sunny climes, sandy beaches, the biue-green Pacific waters lapping them, the wave curls of the Bonsai Pipeline, the surfers, Diamond Head always looming in the distance, other defunct volcanoes strung together forming mountain ranges, the Pearl Harbor Memorials, the rainbows, sometimes double, triple and even quadruple helixes. one can almost hear the string sounds of steel guitars and ukuleles wafting as you look at them, “having a great time; wish you could hear.” [sound of stylus running across record right here!]

during early March coinciding with our vacation in this Paradise the worst storms in their history –perhaps in anyone’s, certainly ours– jazzed up the Islands. to wit: tornadoes –one by land, one a water spout, think Moses– heavy rain –three feet, yes i said feet, in two days in Kauai; winds up to 60 mpg like to take the panels and roofs off houses; hail, first marble-size, then golf ball, finally tennis ball. folks were collecting the stuff in baggies, marking them and freezing for posterity. thunder storms with three kinds of lightning, a light show which lasted some 20 minutes: ball, ground and horizontal. all the while we were hearing of sunny temps in the Apple higher than ours.

after an 11-hour flight from Newark a ten-minute trip to Fran’s uncle’s house on Oahu where we were staying took 1 1/2 hours due to a downed power line. (N.B.: Fran is vocalist Fran McIntyre, Ms, Smith. more on her later.)

was this Yahweh’s new set of plagues? it rained steadily for the first four days and intermittently for the rest of our ten-day stay. while the surging surf eroded those legendary beaches, both sandy and lava, it made for some exciting moments as water noisily and scarily gushed through the famous Blow Hole and lapped the roads we were told to avoid due to flash-flooding. everything shut down; for this tourist dominated destination that in itself spelled disaster. Pearl, the Polynesian Center, the Dole Plantation, Waikiki all mostly dark. all you could do was shop!

while water didn’t become wine, the sea did turn brown from the runoff.

UNCLE RUDY TO THE RESCUE

Fran’s Uncle Rudy McIntyre –a trumpet-playing Shriner– and his girlfriend Harriet saved the day. he piled us into his little hybrid –gas is beaucoup expensivo– and took us on a tour of the foreboding North Shore where we ate at one of those famous roadside shrimp trucks, dessert at the mountainside “Crouching Lion,” where this photo of some of the devastation was shot, stopping off at the gift shop at Dole and a chocolatier called “Donkey Balls” –the dark chocolate-covered macs which give the place its name were to die from– as well at some beach overlooks and the Blow Hole.  getting down to other beaches was not an option due to wind and rain.

storm damage Oahu North Coast photo arnold jay smith

Rudy McIintyre is a member of a group of mostly retired musicians –some still play club dates– who gather at the new Shriners Childrens Hospital weekly to rehearse stock jazz charts which they concert later at the hospital’s charity functions. the band is called “Pote’s Band” short for Potentates. Fran sat-in for a couple, “Kansas City” and “Amazing Grace,” she left ‘em pleading for more.

PEARL HARBOR MEMORIALS

whenever i’m in Oahu ;>) i always make the trek to Pearl. the Missouri is permanently berthed there now. my father, who was Chief Electrical mate at the Brooklyn Navy Yard, worked on the Bg Mo and other ships. consequently, i have been aboard her many times but never as an adult. for me it was a teary tour, indeed. Fran made it all the way topside, cane and all. it was she who coined the phrase which became part of the title of this blog after hearing FDR in the film accompanying the trip to the Arizona Memorial, and experiencing the weather.

HULA HARIRET

Rudy’s lady friend, Harriet, widow of a retired Navel Chief, hosted a Purim Party at the historic synagogue at Pearl. she is a studied hula dancer which she demonstrated for us at dinner. her hands actually spoke to us.

later in the week on the Lanai at the Halekulani Hotel in Waikiki bathed in a Pacific sunset –it rained later that night– she danced again, more formally this time. as it was St. Patrick’s day we gave her the sobriquet “Lovely Houlihan.” the leader of the classic Hawaiian string trio playing that night called it her stage name. perhaps it will stick.

sunset over the Pacific photo Fran McIntyre

THE TRIP HOME: TRUE INFAMY

just as we relaxed our guard we returned the rental car, a Dodge Caliber soon to be mercifully EX-Caliber as they are discontinuing it, and got to the Honolulu United Airlines terminal 2 1/2 hours ahead of our scheduled departure. (United and Continental had merged at the outset of our trip creating havoc across the board.)

the line snaked from the undermanned check-in kiosks clear out the door. there were no Caps nor curbside check-in. no supervisory personnel to be found. Fran managed to get us a manager by quietly telling someone we are handicapped and need our wheelchairs. i wouldn’t have been as quiet.

it was a super jumbo Triple 7 filled to capacity. THEY RAN OUT OF FOOD. FOR PURCHASE! i’m a diabetic so i persisted, loudly. Fran scored a banana from one of the hostesses, which posed the question, if Hawaii does not allow produce in or out and my Granny Smith apple, which does not grow there, was confiscated, how did that banana, which does, slip aboard?

our luggage, for which we paid extra –remember the shopping– went with the equipment to DC, thence back to Long Island, finally to us the next afternoon.

suggestions: do not fly United. buy food at the airport prior to departure.

conclusion: there is no Paradise, at least not on earth.

- © arnold jay smith

March 2012

BIG BAND, ORCHESTRA, DYNASTY, HIGH SCHOOL COMPETITION

under the aegis of the indefatigable Sue Mingus, widow of Charles, the above emphatic if repetitively self-titled bassist’s album sprang to life during the 2012 Presidents Day weekend. there were a Mingus Big Band weekend at Jazz Standard (8 sets); the Mingus Orchestra at St. Bart’s Church (Sat.) and at the Standard (Mon, 2 sets), the Mingus Dynasty Ensemble at Manhattan School of Music, all wrapped around the otherwise enveloping Mingus High School Competition at MSM (both Sun.).

it was tough-sledding for one aging jazzster for an only-in-New York-happening- crowded wonderment of a weekend. in addition to the Minguses there was the Jazz at Lincoln Center Band fete for Stan Kenton’s Centenary (Fri. & Sat.) (next post) and a tribute to Four Black Immortals at Avery Fisher Hall (Sat). if planned carefully one could dance on every tune, work every room and not fall out from exhaustion, even catch some z’s. i could have nailed it if i had gotten the info on the Immortals in a more timely manner.

I. THE MINGUS BIG BAND

this aggregation was never an option for Charles when he was alive. expensive and expansive in the extreme, in Charles’ life it would be too unwieldy. there was that now-legendary Mingus Workshop Ensemble Town Hall concert where arranger Sy Johnson was passing around charts from the wings  as they were being written.

mixing metaphors, Sue took the baton and ran with it. she hired Johnson and together formed a powerhouse band which began its performing life –fittingly for Charles– underground at a place called Fez in lower Manhattan, NYC. they packed them in (literally) every Mon. night for years. they recorded for Dreyfus Jazz, for which i was publicist, so when, with some trepidation –and our encouragement– Sue decided to expand to a weekend the gauntlet was thrown. after getting all our PR ducks in a row i split for part of that weekend. upon my return i was greeted by “you are wonderful” telephone message from Sue which was high praise from her usually taciturn façade. they had sold out the joint for all three nights.

“EPITAPH” LEGACY

Sue uncovered snippets of not-always-music-manuscript and with the help of Johnson  and Gunther Schuller pieced together the monumental multi-movement “Epitaph” at Alice Tully Hall for 35 musicians. to my mind both the Big Band and Orchestra owes their genesis and continued permanence to those “Epitaph” movements, which are still in the book.

one such, “Children’s Hour of Dreams,” was performed at Jazz Standard on Friday night’s brooch of five Mingus originals during the first set.

the writing for the ensemble is brilliant. in the case of Mingus/Schuller that is understatement as anything they’ve done together has been nothing short of such. Mingus the colorist combines with Schuller the classicist to produce multi-hues and moods. (for the uninitiated award-winning author/educator Schuller is a french-hornist who has played on Miles Davis’ “Birth of the Cool” band. he has also conducted Scott Joplin’s “Red Back Book” with the New England Conservatory Brass Ensemble. and, with John Lewis, coined the term “Third Stream.)

the set opened with the band’s usual high volume energy “Nostalgia In Times Square.” baritone saxist Ronnie Cuber took the lead with Philip Harper’s trumpet and Conrad Herwig’s ‘bone following. Herwig’s approach to his soli is unique in that he starts soto voce then builds to bravura.

in years past when a newby asked to sit-in the leader usually called something like “Cherokee” up. MBB’s version of that is “Slippers,” a rarely played Mingus tune. the band was sight-reading and it quickly became a workshop event. some members had never laid eyes on it let alone played it. trumpeter Jack Walrath who played with past Mingus Workshops knew it cold. his solo stood out as did the (arrived) late pianist Dave Kikoski.

it was Kikoski who backed Seamus Blake’s sax on the plaintive “Goodbye Pork Pie Hat,” Mingus’ paean dedication to Lester Young’s headgear of choice.

Boris Koslov –who plays Mingus’ bass, but not this night as it was being repaired, Sue told me– arranged “GG Local.” a self-avowed subway and other trains expert Koslov said that Charles wanted his own train like Billy Strayhorn’s “A Train” (an express) for Duke Ellington. he settled on this. (N.B.: the GG local changed to a single G as did all locals in the system. i was a NYC tour guide with a specialty in subways. Boris has promised me a “Jeopardy” challenge round on the subject.)

another infrequently played tune, “GG” quickly devolved into Koslov giving –nay, discussing– the sections from the back of the stage to the rest of the band. there is an  alternative ending, which they did not play, twice. soloists were recent addition Al Norris, trumpet, Alex Foster, alto and Herwig.

set two was a stunner. Sue had invited members of some of the high school competitors to listen as to how Charles’ music was played. she assigned specific pieces to them. none were easy.

we were greeted by “Gunslinging Bird” which has complicated and varying rhythmic patterns: fast 3/4; medium 4/4; then slow 4; “Ecclusiastics” most often a selection from the Orchestra’s book; the always challenging and moody “Love Chant;” then came   “Opus 4,” the piece which broke the band’s resolve. it became yet another workshop affair as these masterful readers buried their noses in the fly shit that was on the manuscript. admonishment to the youths in attendance: don’t try this at home. (read on.)

my exhaustive evening drew to a close –there was a third set– with “E’s Flat, Ah’s Flat Too.” but wait, there’s more! the MBB’s traditional closer, “Better Get Hit In Your Soul” declared a dividend: a tuba coda by Earl McIntyre. the sudden musical silence was deafening drowned out only by the standing o’.

II. THE MINGUS ORCHESTRA

belying the absence of strings the sobriquet,”Orchestra,” was bestowed on this medium-sized ensemble by Sue because, as she said at their opening years ago in another cellar of a downtown NYC restaurant called City Hall, “you will hear instruments usually heard in an Orchestra rather than a jazz band: french, horn, double reeds (oboe, bassoon) and bass clarinet.” there is precedent for these instruments  identifying with Mingus’ music: David Amram played french horn with a Workshop; Eric Dolphy’s bass clarinet was also a feature. Yuseff Lateef played oboe on occasion.

i missed their concert at St. Bart’s Church on Sat. night, but Schuller told me that it was not as good as the preceding year’s. “last year was special; magic happened. it just came together,” he said knitting his fingers.

feeling cheated for having missed this year’s St. Bart’s, i managed to catch Mon. night’s final set at the Standard where “Ecclusiastics” opened (Ku-umba Frank Lacy’s vocal and trombone, Wayne Escoffery, sax). harking to Sue’s “assignments” for the High School competitors we heard “Inquisition” (from “Epitaph”), “Self Portrait in Three Colors” (Ralph Duguay who was working the door, sat in on bass; Mark Gross was on sax); and a ragged-sounding ensemble on “Purple Heart,” a feature for Douglas Yates’ clarinet, who rose above it.

the always popular “Eclipse” featured Michael Rabinowitz’s bassoon, David Gilmore on guitar and Lacy’s vocals. “Tonight At Noon.” the title of Sue’s book on Charles, was all Adam Cruz’s drum kit and John Clark’s french horn. “Noon” segued into their theme “Better Get Hit” as the MO tried to call it a long weekend, but the small-but-mighty patrons were having none of that. the rousing encore, “Devil Woman” with Lacy as preacher closed it emphatically.

III. THE MINGUS DYNASTY ENSEMBLE

the direct descendant of Mingus’ Workshop Ensemble this septet was the finale to the High School Competition at Manhattan School of Music on Sun. it was a brief set of a trio of tunes: “Fables of Faubus,” “Pork Pie” and “Better Get Hit.” what made this a standout was the inclusion of pianist Helen Sung. her soli were dynamic, ranging, soulful and percussive making her Mingus-perfect..

IV. THE HIGH SCHOOL COMPETITION

i had to keep repeating to myself, “remember, these are HIGH SCHOOL students.” the performances ran as high as the underlying talent. the judges –Foster, Herwig and Schuller–  said individually and collectively that this was the hardest competition yet. “It was difficult to choose,” said host co-producer and Associate Dean Justin DiCioccio. “you are all winners,” co-producer Sue “Let My Children Hear Music” Mingus chimed in.

no cliché, that, but i can say that the Lexington (MA) High School Jazz Combo and Large Ensemble and the Jazz House Kids Small Group and Big Band (Montclair, NJ) each swept their categories. kudos go out to directors Ken Gable (Lexington) and Radam Schwartz and Julius Tolentino (Jazz House). there were some familiar named individual winners as well: trumpeters Adam O’Farrill, son of Arturo, and Wallace Roney, Jr.

the bands were an admixture of sex, color and nationality, as well as upper and lower scholastic class-people, which is always good to see.

all the winners are on the MSM website, www.msmnyc.edu. more details www.charlesmingus.org, and Let My Children Hear Music a 501(c)3 not-for-profit education foundation.

- © arnold jay smith

March 2012

BASSIST/VOCALIST/COMPOSER HAS LAST LAUGH

i’m sure she doesn’t feel that way about it. but i do.

having been vilified for not selling enough after being voted 2010′s Best New Artist by Grammy voters Esperanza Spalding, shamefully an unannounced cameo on the ACADEMY AWARDS telecast, radiant in a white gown and crowned by an over-the-top ‘fro, sang, on camera, the tribute section for recently deceased Academy members. the song she sang was “What A Wonderful World,” which was notably made famous by Louis Armstrong. i’m sure certain Grammy execs would not have approved. sales are down for the song.

in your face NARAS!

-© arnold jay Smith

February 2012

IMPORTANT GOSPEL-TINGED SOUL & POP VOICE STILLED

journalist Eugene Holley, Jr., from his hometown of Wilmington, DE, called to commiserate on the tragic passing of Whitney Houston at 48. his take was that “you get out of Newark as quickly as you can; she waited too long.”

while still a record company exec Barbara Harris remembered telling Whitney’s dad, John, that his then-very young daughter was a real talent. he concurred. Harris called Houston’s life and death “a terrible tragedy indeed.”

a friend and a fellow jazz traveler a retired air-traffic controller from Boston left a massage asking, “Is it true? i just can’t believe it.”

Gospel and blues singer/percussionist and cable tv host Fran McIntyre (Mrs. Smith) praised her as an actress. “she should have pursued that part of her career more,” McIntyre said.

such was Whitney’s reach. she was a product of her environment both good and evil. Newark, NJ was and is a hotbed for blues and Gospel singing, organ groups and proud church-goers. it is also home to America’s #1 jazz radio station, WBGO. classical WQXR is also there. but then there are the Streets, among the highest crime-ridden.

Whitney’s mother, Gospel-singer and sometimes back-up folkie Cissy protected her, bringing Whitney with her when Cissy played in New York and elsewhere. once-upon-a-time in the 1980s i frequented a room on the Upper West Side of Manhattan called Sweetwater’s. good food for your soul, musically as well as gastronomically. it was a side of the music which Down Beat, for whom i worked, and Billboard for whom i strung, did not cover much.

Sweetwater’s drew from the deep talent pool that is the Apple.  Cissy was already quietly a legendary singer but there were others who stopped by either as sitters-in or hired hands, all r & b and the then fledgling “soul.” vocalists and vocal groups to be sure, but instrumentalists as well. i saw Gloria’s Gaynor and Lynn and Donna Summer during comebacks. local talent were showcased but established stars such as George Benson popped in. their budget was small but there was a warm “come on in” atmosphere. you never knew with whom you might be sharing ribs on any given night. Sweetwater’s in the Bronx is the successor room.

one weekend Cissy was booked and she brought along this gangly youngster girl-in-a boy’s-body. Whitney was all legs but once the light hit her she was all pro. this teenager belted Gospel and the blues from her soul reaching deep down. gave us the chills from one so young. we cheered. once her cousin Dionne Warwick sat in with the family. another time her Godmother Aretha Franklin stopped by. i believe she played the piano.

“fame kills the mind, the spirit and (eventually) the body,”McIntyre concluded.

as for the patrons at Sweetwater’s we just knew that this Houston chile was destined for stardom; she exuded confidence to go along with that powerful rangy yet controlled instrument. what a shameful loss.

-© arnold jay smith

February 2012

MERDE. SCHEISSE, MIERDA. SHITTE.

it’s something we all do, in private. as Groucho might say on his quiz show, You Bet Your Life, “it’s something you find around the house.” in fact, some of us are in deep doo-doo as you read this. others are constantly being admonished to get our shit together. yet on television or radio the word is taboo no matter what the context, no matter what the reference, no matter if we are referencing our stuff, or expressing something complementary, or distasteful, or venting, or checking out something of which we are in awe, or bullshit, as some of you may think of this post, or as Robin might say, “Holy shit, Batman.” (is that religious?)

i find it most annoying and puritanically disconcerting when i’m watching a Brit  program such as MI-5, or New Tricks on American tv to find the word blotted out.  tits (as slang), bastard (as expletive), son-of-a-bitch (not referring to a male puppy) are all acceptable. why? are the religious right involved? don’t think so as it’s been going on for decades long before their ascendancy, in fact, when Fox airs re-runs in syndication it excises words used on the original network shows. (but then Murdoch is a special case.) PBS has been doing it for some years. but it wasn’t always thus.

i remember when PBS not only left the defecation word in –it’s in the dictionary, as you know; spell check doesn’t even highlight it– but also displayed nudity, frontal at that. i pay dues to my local PBS and tolerate (sometimes) their ever more frequent and lengthening beg-a-thons; i don’t appreciate expurgation, censorship, nor being treated as a child being scolded in school. as they constantly remind us. it’s our station. so leave it the fuck alone.

THE REAL DEAL

i expect more realism from PBS programming. in their fine series on the western mythical persona, Billy The Kid, Jesse James, Geronimo, Wyatt Earp, et cie, we were enlightened as to their brutality, their viciousness, their treatment of the citizenry, women and American Indians, idols with feet of clay, indeed. but you never heard the word. and those war docs. shit, man! did you ever hear sailors, soldiers, marines, whatever, not pepper their specch with vulgarities? the movies have grown up; Broadway and dance have come about. but on tv they’re still squeaky clean.

there was a tv series by Amistad Maupin based on his Tales of the City (San Fransisco) truly adult material with nudity, transsexuals, transgenders, drug use, homosexual and heterosexual behavior. the script contained liberal use of the vernacular. it was one of Laura Linney’s early star turns. Tales worked because that was the way the inhabitants of Haight-Ashbury spoke and comported themselves in the social revolutionary ’60s & ’70s. when the sequel was aired in the U.S.A. “Goddamn” became “gosh darn,” “shit” became “shoot.” it waa laughingly ludicrous and embarrassing actually making it worse than if the original script had been left intact. nudity? fugetabahdit!

Victoria’s Secret proves the point that scantiness is sexier than nudity. all the censoring just highlights the “dirty parts.” our imagination takes care of the rest.

your comments are always appreciated.

- © arnold jay smith

February 2012