Bill Henderson: Jazz with a Smiling Voice

I’ve been a Bill Henderson fan forever―or at least since the days when was Joey was in steady rotation on Symphony Sid’s midnight jazz show on WADO in New York City. I owned his first album on Vee Jay records, his Verve recording with Oscar Peterson, and have picked up various other recordings over the years. About 10 years ago, Henderson appeared at the Kennedy Center and I was all over it. He did a fine show and, amazingly, his voice was just as it was when he did Joey―someone in the audience called it out as a request and Henderson laughed and said the requester was going WAY back. The guy sitting next to me summed it up: “He sounds exactly the same”!

You don’t have to take my word for it, though. Check out Bill Henderson’s last recording: Live at the Vic, made in 2007, just after he  turned 81. It’s not a great record just because his voice sounds so youthful, though. It's because his sound and phrasing are so delightful. The best way to put it is that Henderson always sang with a smile in his voice―sometimes joyous, often wry, and occasionally melancholy, but always warmly there.  Some of the high points of this recording include a great version of Never Make Your Move Too Soon, an extraordinary extended version of That Old Black Magic, and some of his personal standards, like A Sleeping Bee and You Are My Sunshine. I haven’t enjoyed a jazz vocal album so much in a long time.

There’s not a whole lot from this album on line, but The Song is You is pretty representative. I hope you enjoy it and check out more Bill Henderson.

Night Lights, or Whatever Happened to Gerry Mulligan?

The bassist and raconteur Bill Crow once remarked that people don’t talk much about Gerry Mulligan any more. For veteran listeners, Mulligan was for many years a dominant force in the music: arranger for Claude Thornhill, the Birth of the Cool sessions, the pianoless quartet with Chet Baker, the concert big band, and record dates with everyone from Ben Webster to Dave Brubeck to Thelonious Monk. It’s true, though, maybe because Coltrane and Ornette took the music in a different direction and younger musicians followed suit. Remember how “West Coast jazz” was cool and then it wasn’t?

It’s a shame, though. Take Night Lights, for example.  In 1963, Mulligan, Art Farmer, Bob Brookmeyer, the aforesaid Bill Crow, and Dave Bailey put together a masterpiece of what could be called “late night jazz”―subdued, worldly-wise, and subtly emotional. The album is a quest for classic beauty, which isn’t really much in style these days. I don’t think it’s just nostalgia on my part; it’s simply beautiful music. The title tune feature Mulligan on piano rather than baritone, with a bonus track of the same composition with him on clarinet. Art Farmer, especially on flugelhorn, is one of the most eloquent players ever. His tone, his choice of notes, and depth of feeling are always remarkable. Brookmeyer and hall fit the mood as well, with Crow and Bailey’s accompaniment in support. I’m not in the mood for analysis on this one―just listening.

Here's Festive Minor and Night Lights: