In Defense of the Knockouts

The three Doo Wop Boxes are among my most treasured musical possessions, and Billy Vera does a fantastic job of annotating all 303 classic group harmony songs. It’s always bothered me, though, that he was so negative about the Knockouts. In his notes to their one big hit, Darling Lorraine, found in Box 2, Vera calls them a “Jersey Shore bar band” (true—no insult there), but goes on to say that in their few TV appearances, they “looked kind of seedy and old”—older than what he thought were their true ages, the early thirties. Darling Lorraine, which I had forgotten about until I heard it again on Box 2, was always a favorite of mine, and I felt badly that its creators had been sort of sleazy. Most painfully, Vera suspected that the record might have been a parody that listeners took seriously—so much for my teenage taste, I supposed at the time.

Recently, though, I heard a very different song by the Knockouts, which led me to do some further research. The admirable Funky16Corners blog posted their astoundingly over-the-top version of I’ve Got My Mojo Working (or Mo Jo, as they retitled it). It was later than, and totally different from, Darling Lorraine—but I like it a lot. It was released in 1964, five years after their one big hit, so they hadn’t just faded back to the Shore afterwards.

After some rummaging around, I found a decent history of the group here. It consisted of Bobby D’Andrea, vocals; Eddie Parente, guitar; Bob Collada, Piano; and Harry Venuta, drums, all from Bayonne or North Bergen, New Jersey. The accompanying photo indicated that, while not in the first bloom of youth, they weren’t necessarily as old as Vera thought. Indeed, a news clipping reproduced on the same site claimed that they were in their early twenties when Darling Lorraine hit it big. According to the clipping, it peaked out at #46 nationally. They were a Jersey Shore band (Seaside Heights!), but also performed at venues in such NJ metropoli as Lodi and Lyndhurst. They also stuck around on the recording scene for a few years and even recorded an album—Go Ape with the Knockouts (and on the album cover, they did look older and perhaps less than prepossessing).

I’ve been exploring the Knockouts’ oeuvre: Riot in Room 3C, a twangy instrumental that originally was the A side of the surprise hit Darling Lorraine; Rich Boy, Poor Boy, a very nice doowop ballad; Please Be Mine, a mid-tempo tune; and the aforementioned Mo Jo, which shows they could do a wide range of material and had some staying power. As for the idea that Darling Lorraine might have been a parody, artists sometimes hit the mark despite themselves, although I think their performance came from the heart.

And as for staying power, as of a few years ago, Bobby D’Andrea was still going strong on the oldies circuit—and sounding pretty good! Maybe he wasn’t that old after all.

Hey, if anyone finds a copy of Go Ape with the Knockouts while crate diving in some thrift store, I’m in the market.

Charles Sullivan: Time for Re-Entry

These days, historians generally view the Great Man theory of history as a simplistic and obsolete concept, but the music world hasn’t caught up yet. Take jazz trumpet players, for example. Satchmo, Dizzy, Miles, Clifford, Lee, Freddie, and (maybe) Woody are the crème de la crème, and anyone else is an also ran, an imitator―“the poor man’s [Satchmo, Dizzy, Miles, etc.]." It’s as if there’s no way to categorize other players except as geniuses or pallid imitators. Was Wilkie Collins the poor man’s Dickens? Maybe The Moonstone has more readers these days.

This mild diatribe brings me to Re-Entry, the reissue CD of Charles Sullivan’s 1976 WhyNot LP. WhyNot was a Japanese label that recorded a number of talented musicians who weren’t among the revered few on their respective instruments. Sullivan, who also recorded as Kamau Adilifu, has played with Lionel Hampton, Count Basie, and Roy Haynes and recorded with a host of other fine players. He also has had a solid career playing for Broadway shows and other more commercial settings. With all of that, though, he’s still not well known as a first-rate, creative artist – and that’s a shame.

Re-Entry starts off furiously with the title track, and Sullivan’s solo is blazing―he uses a combination of longer flowing lines and staccato phrasing to create a showpiece of hard bop creativity. Of course, with a rhythm section of Kenny Barron on Piano, Buster Williams on bass, and Billy Hart on drums, he has colleagues who both support and augment his efforts throughout. On Body and Soul, the band uses a glowering, mysterious opening to set the mood before launching into a gorgeous rendition of this classic ballad, and Sullivan, Barron, and Williams all make it work seamlessly. Carefree is a more medium-tempo outing, in which Rene McLean’s alto complements Sullivan’s sound (hearkening back to the first paragraph, McLean often is criticized for sounding like his dad, Jackie McLean, but I really love that off-kilter tone), while Sullivan employs his mute to good effect on Cricket’s Waltz, and McLean does a nice turn on tenor. The program finishes up with Mabe’s Way―a Sullivan composition, as are all of those on the album except Body and Soul. Bonus versions of the latter and Carefree round out the program.

Now that I’ve checked out Re-Entry, I’m interested in Sullivan’s two other outings as a leader―both available (but pricey). He’s an excellent and original talent and I hope he gets to record more in the future than he has in the past. If you want to hear a sample, try this.

Hearken, Hearken to the Reed! – Jalal al-Din Rumi

Poor Herbie Mann doesn’t get much respect from the critics or the cranky old guys who post on the jazz boards. Admittedly, Herbie never seemed to meet a musical fad he didn’t like (disco!), but he did make what I think is a substantial contribution to integrating African and Middle Eastern music into jazz. The first Herbie Mann track I ever listened to was Baghdad/Asia Minor from The Common Ground: The Herbie Mann Afro-Jazz Sextet + Four Trumpets.  That album featured Nabil “Knobby” Totah, a Palestinian, on bass, and my all-time favorite Babatunde Olatunji on African percussion, along with Ray Barretto on bongos and Ray Mantilla on congas.

My favorite, though, is The Wailing Dervishes, a 1967 live date with a coterie of Middle Eastern-derived musicians like oudist Chick Ganimian, dümbek player Moulay “Ali” Hafid, and clarinetist Hacheg T. Kazarian. In addition to featuring the unique Rufus Harley, the premier jazz bagpiper, on one track, it includes an absolutely mesmerizing version of Norwegian Wood. This piece really reaches out in an almost ecstatic, Sufi-like way, trying to fulfill the verse of Rumi on the back of the LP: “Hearken to this reed forlorn/Breathing ever since ‘twas torn/From its rush bed, a strain/Of impassioned love and pain.” Mann, Roy Ayers on vibes, and Reggie Workman on bass all seem to catch the spirit on this one.  I wish we had more recordings like this one and fewer like Push Push, but give Herbie Mann full credit for pushing forward a world music ethos in jazz when it was much more uncommon than it is now.

Here's Norwegian Wood.

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!

The Blogger's Update

Well, it’s been a busy few months here at Stolen Moments world headquarters. I retired from my job at the Government Printing Office (GPO) at the beginning of July and was almost immediately hired back as a contractor, working three days a week to continue the Government Book Talk blog. Since it ramped up at the end of March, Government Book Talk has had almost 80,000 page views and acquired more than 900 subscribers. It’s also won a Silver Inkwell from the Washington DC chapter of the International Association of Business Communicators.

Then there’s the comic book. Last fall, our Managing Director asked me to create a script for a comic book about the history of printing. To me, it was just another writing job, but the results have gotten a lot of press:

http://www.washingtoncitypaper.com/blogs/artsdesk/books/2010/09/21/meet-a-local-comics-writer-a-chat-with-the-gpos-jim-cameron/ (From DC’s weekly paper on culture, politics, etc.)

http://voices.washingtonpost.com/comic-riffs/2010/09/book_of_the_week_gpos_squeak.html (The Post’s comics blog)

http://voices.washingtonpost.com/federal-eye/2010/09/squeaks_the_mouse_channels_gut.html
(Ed O’Keefe’s Federal blog at the Post – he was kind enough to post the YouTube video done by GPO)

http://www.federalnewsradio.com/?nid=15&sid=2058315 (radio interview with me and Nick Crawford, who did the terrific art work.)

Well, enough shameless self-aggrandizement. Molly and I are expanding (we hope) our freelance editing and writing business, so “retirement” is not quite the word, at least not yet. We’ve been really busy for the last few months. Her major back surgery (scheduled for November 19) may slow us down, but we’re not looking at it from that angle. If it goes the way we think, she will be pain-free after years of increasingly difficult back problems and trying every other treatment under the sun.

Okay, end of sermon, as my 8th grade science teacher used to say. I have lots of jazz reviews planned, including a look at some of the great reissues of music recorded by the Japanese Why Not label in the 1970’s, a bunch of Prestige mainstream and soul jazz, and more. Keep looking at the skies!