The Genius Lifts the Bandstand

The first concert I ever attended was at the Mosque Theater on Broad Street in Newark, New Jersey. The artist was Ray Charles. The Mosque was a big traditional theater, and all these years later my impression is vague, but I do remember being a bit overawed by its sheer size. Ray was late that night, so his band played an extended set. At that time he had musicians like Hank Crawford and David “Fathead” Newman  working for him, so the music was excellent―but the crowd wanted the Genius.

When he arrived, he apologized and promised a great concert. I don’t recall it as an absolute masterpiece, but he did do some great tunes – it was around the time of The Genius Hits the Road album, so Georgia on my Mind was a high point. I don’t remember much else, but just having had the opportunity to hear this great artist is something I’m still grateful for all of these years later.

Some of my favorite Ray Charles stuff was courtesy of Symphony Sid’s WADO midnight jazz show. Two of his masterpieces were Drown in my Own Tears and What'd I Say. Here they are from the 1960 Newport Jazz Festival. Genius, indeed.

The Elusive Bill DeArango

I first encountered Bill DeArango during my early explorations of bebop – specifically, Dizzy Gillespie’s 1940s recordings for RCA Victor. The tune: Ol’ Man Rebop. The guitar solo blew me away. Who was that guy? DeArango had a relatively brief career, recording-wise. After he got out of the service in 1944, he hit 52^nd Street and started gigging with the likes of Ben Webster, as chronicled in this Harvey Pekar comic. He quickly emerged as a leading bop guitarist, with Dizzy, Eddy “Lockjaw” Davis, and others.

DeArango recorded an album or two in the early 50s and then headed back to Cleveland, where he owned a music store, played with the local heavyweights, and explored freer kinds of jazz. His last album, with Joe Lovano, was issued on Gunther Schuller’s GM Records. Someone has started a Bill DeArango Web site that has a lot more information about the man and his music – and some amazing audio samples.

Here’s Ol’ Man Rebop and Jim Dawgs, a 1945 swinger led by Newark, NJ's own Ike Quebec, who's worth a post himself.

Good Vibes (and Piano) from Detroit

One of the reasons I decided to reinvigorate this blog was a YouTube video of Terry Pollard. Pollard, a fine pianist and vibraphonist who emerged from the incredible explosion of jazz talent that was Detroit in the late 50s, was one of the few women to make her mark in the music during that period. After playing with many of the top musicians of the day, touring for several years with the vibist Terry Gibbs, and recording only one album as a leader, she returned to Detroit to raise a family and faded from the scene.

After her death in 2009, Terry Gibbs’ YouTube channel posted a video (below) of his quartet with Pollard on piano and in a terrific duet with Gibbs on vibes. It’s a demonstration of talent that ranks with that of Barry Harris Tommy Flanagan, two other acclaimed Detroit musicians of her era. It’s also a reminder that jazz can be fun and doesn’t need to take itself as seriously as it often does these days. And yes, that’s Steve Allen on piano during the vibes duet. From the YouTube comments, which are less idiotic than usual, it seems that Pollard was a fine person as well as a great musician.

Whatever negligent conglomerate owns the rights to Bethlehem Records should reissue her 1955 LP but, given the state of the music business, it may be up to Fresh Sound or one of the other Andorran labels to do it. Anyway, I’m glad we have this clip and a Euro reissue of The Terry Gibbs Quartet Featuring Terry Pollard  (kudos to Gibbs and Bethlehem for the original billing!) to keep Terry Pollard’s memory alive.

 

Back at It

It’s been quite a while since I’ve done anything with this blog – press of time, other obligations, blah, blah, blah. I have been thinking about it, though. Up to now, I haven’t articulated a theme or governing principle to guide me (and you) as to exactly what I’m trying to do. I think I’ve zeroed in on that. I’m interested in keeping the memory of unsung musicians, authors, and events alive in a time where the overwhelming glut of information via the Internet, the concomitant apparent dumbing down of the media, and an accompanying publicity barrage for the worst (whose PR people are full of passionate, lucre-driven intensity). Okay, I do have a fondness for the obscure over the mainstream, but the mainstream seems pretty capable of taking care of itself, so why not? “Obscure” doesn’t mean untalented, unimportant, or ridiculous – anyway, it’s my blog and I’ll cry if I want to.

A relaunch demands a new name, so I’ve selected Lift the Bandstand! When Steve Lacy, the great soprano saxophonist, was gigging with Thelonious Monk, he jotted down Monk’s various utterances about music and life. “Lift the bandstand!” was his advice to Lacy and other musicians, and it seems to work for all kinds of other human efforts, so Lift the Bandstand! it is. I've also added a new look to go along with the new name.
To kick things off, here’s part of a performance by Lacy that really takes Monk’s advice to heart. The music is exciting and passionate, stemming from the jazz tradition and building from it. Lacy’s music is free but structured – he never abandons the music’s roots, even at his most abstract. Note: A lot of people don’t care for Irene Aebi’s vocals, but this one, at least, fits in seamlessly.

If you like where I’m going with the blog, or even if you don’t, please comment!