The Jazz Backstory Podcast Debut!

 

We are pleased to announce the debut of our Jazz Backstory podcast. The eight episodes of Season 1 will be released weekly on Tuesdays, beginning with this episode. Use this link to listen: 

https://www.Hamilton.edu/JazzBackstory

Junior Mance 1928-2021

 

It has been my privilege to meet and converse with a long list of notable jazz personalities, and I thought of pianist Junior Mance as one of my favorite guys. His wife, Gloria Clayborne Mance, announced his passing at home yesterday after a long illness. My first reaction to hearing this news was to fetch my autographed copy of the 1960s era “Harlem Lullaby” LP and play the title track. It took me back to my junior high days when I listened to an all-night jazz station and first heard this evocative Junior Mance composition.

We interviewed Junior twice for the Fillius Jazz Archive and he shared fascinating stories about his learning process, career path, and notable collaborations. Junior worked as a sideman with none other than Cannonball Adderley, Joe Williams, and many others, but spent most of his career as a leader of his own trio.

In a fortuitous aligning of the stars, we were able to facilitate a CD of a previously unreleased live date from 1964 with Joe Williams and the Junior Mance Trio with Ben Webster as special guest. “Havin’ A Good Time” was produced by Joel Dorn who also supervised Junior’s “Harlem Lullaby” LP.

In 2015 I was able to bring The Junior Mance Trio to Hamilton for what turned out to be his last road trip. He showed early signs of poor health, but his distinctive brand of blues-drenched bop won over students and faculty alike.

From the Fillius archive, here is a link to the first YouTube interview conducted with Junior on July 27, 1995. The second interview, conducted on January 18, 1999, can be found here.

The archive sends its deepest sympathy to Gloria, as we mourn the passing of yet another jazz luminary.

Playlists!

 In January of 2017 we began uploading our video interviews to YouTube. The Fillius Jazz YouTube channel now contains 400 interview sessions with a diverse list of jazz personalities. We have now created 20 playlists by categories which enables an alphabetical search through players of the same instrument or specialty. Our categories include the following sections:

Banjo Player Interviews

Bassist Interviews

Clarinetist Interviews

Composer/Arranger Interviews

Covid Interviews

Drummer Interviews

Filmmaker Interviews

Flute Player Interviews

Guitarist Interviews

Jazz Historian Interviews

Pianist Interviews 

Producer Interviews

Saxophone/Woodwind Player Interviews

Trombonist Interviews

Trumpet Player Interviews

Tuba Player Interviews

Vibraphonist Interviews

Violinist Interviews 

Vocalist Interviews

Writer Interviews 

To choose, or just browse through the interview playlists, click here.

100 Years of Bird

 

This morning I visited five internet sites professing to rank the greatest saxophonists of all-time. Four of the five bestowed the honor on Charlie Parker, and the fifth put him at number two behind John Coltrane. This accurately represents Bird’s foremost position in jazz hierarchy.

My first exposure to Bird was not a recording, but an arrangement of the bebop classic “Groovin’ High.” When Bird recorded this uptempo tune with Dizzy Gillespie, his 16-bar solo represented perfect balance of improvisation and composition. The arranger transcribed the solo note for note and cleverly added four supporting saxophone parts. The result was an exquisite blend of melodic and harmonic elements. It was as difficult as any classical etude.

Today marks Charlie Parker’s 100^th birthday, and his influence has not diminished since his death in 1955 at age 34. Bird and a small number of like-minded instrumentalists changed the course of jazz and brought an enthusiastic cadre of young musicians along for the ride.

Charles McPherson offered a typical story of the effect of hearing Bird for the first time, in our 1998 interview:

CM: I grew up in Joplin, Missouri, which is a little town south of St. Louis. I was there up until about nine years of age then I moved to Detroit. But during the time that I was there, I did have occasion to see various bands, coming from Kansas City, territorial bands. This is when I was  maybe six. Every year in the summertime these bands would come to this park in Joplin and play for a week. I was quite impressed with the bands, with the music and with the way the horns look, just the physicalities of the nice, gold, shiny horn.

During the 50s, you didn’t have jazz in the schools. We just played the regular school type things. We played marches and for football games, morning auditorium and all that. It was fun playing and I really liked it, This is what I wanted to do. There were some jazz records around my house, but not a lot. And I did get interested in jazz and a student at school told me about Charlie Parker. I’d never heard of him. And he said, “You should really check this Charlie Parker out.” So I did. I went to a little candy shop in my neighborhood and on the juke box there was a Charlie Parker record, a little 45rpm. I think he was playing “Tico Tico,” which is a Brazilian samba song. And it just blew me away. I knew immediately that this is what I wanted to do. It made perfect sense to me. I didn’t need to be nurtured or taught how to listen to this music. I was about 14, when I heard that, I had no history of hearing a lot of jazz records, I had no concept of what’s considered bebop and modern jazz or any of that. It was like this is the way music should go. This is the way an instrumentalist should approach this. I felt that. I immediately said okay, I’ve got to get these records. Then I was told that this guy was a member of a group of musicians that play a certain genre of jazz, and it’s called bebop. There was like a school of them. So I said oh? That’s what that is. I had no idea that Charlie Parker represented anything but a jazz musician. I knew nothing about schools and styles. Then I just zeroed in on that. He was definitely my main influence.

View Charles’ YouTube video here.

The draw of Parker’s innovations compelled numerous aspiring jazz artists to New York City. Phil Woods offered his own variation on Bird’s magnetism:

PW: I graduated high school at the age of 16 and I wanted to go on with my music education. I went to the Manhattan School of Music for a summer course. I wanted to be in New York, that’s where Charlie Parker was.

MR:         You had to major on the clarinet, didn’t you?

PW:         Yeah. But clarinet, I think it served me well. I could work on my Mozart and with the keyboard stuff work on Bach, and I went to composers workshops. I sort of minored in composition. But at night I would study bebop, Charlie Parker, I’d have the radio on and listen to broadcasts from Birdland.

MR:         When was the first time you saw Charlie Parker play live, and what kind of effect did it have on you?

PW:         The first music I ever played of jazz, my teacher gave me transcribed Benny Carter solos. And then within that month, Ellington came to town and I saw Johnny Hodges. And then I picked up the latest record of this guy called Charlie Parker and it was “KoKo.” And that was it. I mean between Benny Carter, Hodges and Parker all in one dose, I said yeah, man, let me at it, my course was very clear, especially after hearing Bird. The first time I saw Bird would be on 52^nd Street when I was studying with Lenny Tristano, I was still in high school. That’s where I first heard Charlie Parker. I think he was sitting in with Milt Jackson and Howard McGhee.

MR:         What kind of person was he to you?

PW:         Sweet. I remember one day he asked me, “Did you eat today, young man?” I mean he didn’t know me from a hole in the wall, I was just another alto player looking at his heels, and he said, “did you eat today.” The misconception is that Charlie Parker was stealing everybody’s money and using it to buy drugs, but he was very nice to young musicians. That’s often overlooked. This is my only real Charlie Parker story up close — I was working in a place called the Nut Club in the Village, Sheridan Square. Playing for strippers, “Harlem Nocturne” ten times a night. This joint had so much class they would hand you like little wooden hammers as you walked in the door, so you could beat the shit out of the table for your favorite strippers. So somebody said, “Bird’s across the street jamming.” And he was over at Arthur’s Bar, which is still there to this day, it’s a little dinky joint. I walked in and there was Bird and he was playing on the baritone sax. Now let me preface this, at this period I didn’t know if my mouthpiece was right, I didn’t like the reed, I don’t like this horn, it’s not happening, I need new stuff, you know. So I got up my nerve and said, “Mr. Parker, perhaps you’d like to play my alto?” And he said, “That would be very nice, son.” Man I ran across Seventh Avenue and I got my horn, and I’m sitting — Bird was there and I was sitting there and the piano was there, just a drummer — a snare drum and a piano and Bird. And I’m sitting there. I hand him the horn. He played “Long Ago and Far Away,” Jerome Kern. And I’m listening to this guy and it seems there’s nothing wrong with my saxophone. The saxophone sounds pretty darn good, you know what I mean? And he says, “Now you play.” And I says oh Jesus. When kids talk about being awestruck, I know about awestruck. I did my feeble imitation of the master. He said, “Sounds real good, son.” Oh man, this time I flew over Seventh Avenue, and I played the Bejesus out of “Harlem Nocturne” that night. But I mean just those few words were so important.

Here’s a link to the full Phil Woods interview.

The lore of Parker’s talent and life are legion, most prominent among them is the story behind his nickname. Legend has it that a yard bird (chicken) crossing the road fell victim to the band’s car, and Charlie insisted on bringing it to their destination for dinner. Buddy Collette offered an competing tale in his interview in Los Angeles:

BC:  Bird had this meeting with Jimmy Cheatham. He said that all those stories are phony, that’s not what happened. He said when he was 14 years old he used to go out to the park with a couple of his buddies, a drummer or a guitar or bass player. Before school, at 6, 7 in the morning, so they could get a little practice in because at home they couldn’t get it in. They’d get home from school and they’d have to do work, so they’d get this hour or two early to play, just jam and do tunes and things. And he said that the neighbors could hear them. They were about a half a mile from the residential area. The cops would come by and they’d wave to them. They were just friendly neighborhood kids and they’d be jamming. So they said the neighbors called him the Bird. “Oh that’s just the Bird out there practicing in the morning.” So it was a kind of a cute story. They wanted to play so much that they would go out there, but that horn would always be going.

 

Buddy’s YouTube is located here.

In the 90s I recall a Fed Ex television commercial featuring the world’s fastest talker. His supersonic, perfectly articulated verbal delivery came to mind when I recently listened to some classic Charlie Parker recordings. His rapid-fire ideas matched with peerless technique remains a wonder to behold, even 66 years after his death.

Bucky Pizzarelli, 1926-2020

This is a really hard one.

Part of being involved in an oral history project that has lasted 25 years is watching people pass on who you’ve come to know and feel strongly about. It’s the nature of the business, and one of the prime reasons that such projects exist, so that the words, images and stories of these people will stay with us after they’re gone.

Bucky Pizzarelli was a musician’s musician; an overused phrase but highly appropriate in this case. Well-known in the world of guitar players, Bucky was never a household name because he was the ultimate team player, the impeccable guitarist behind the scenes who knew what was required for every gig. His career spanned over seven decades and every conceivable situation, ranging from playing Tiny Tim’s wedding on The Tonight Show, (which included tuning Tiny Tim’s ukulele) to performing at the White House with Frank Sinatra.

Bucky’s attitude about music was, “What is required here? I can do it and feel good about it.” He was one of the many jazz players who moved into the active studio recording scene in New York City in the 50s, 60s and 70s.

Bucky is the only interviewee who has had three sessions with the Fillius Jazz Archive, in 1997, 2003, and in 2014, when my wife and I traveled to his home to interview Bucky along with his lovely and gracious wife, Ruth.

In our first interview, I asked Bucky about playing what was referred to as “three-chord” rock & roll as part of a studio gig:

MR:  How did you guys feel about this music?

BP: Well we were making money you know, and we could play gigs at night, but we got so busy we had no time to play gigs, no time. But I used to do, on Fridays and Saturdays, I played over in Jersey with a trio — piano, bass and guitar — all the time. I always had a little thing like that going on the side.

MR: To keep your jazz chops?

BP: Well not to keep them but I just did it automatically because I felt that this is what I like to do so I’ll make some money and support the family and everything doing the recordings, and go play for — I don’t know it was $35 or $40 a night to play that kind of music.

Like most musicians of his generation, Bucky learned from mentors, relatives, and by listening to recordings. He had a strong attitude about extensive formal jazz education.

MR: You were talking about music education. You seemed to say that the musicians were over-educated these days.

BP: Yes. Over trained. Everybody goes in school and they want to be a soloist today. So they go and they learn how to read and they do ensemble playing and they learn to read so well that when they get with a band, a commercial band, it’s boring. They could play it, like I said before, without even thinking about it. So when boredom sets in on any musician, you better quit the business. You’ve got to like what you’re doing.

Bucky received an Honorary Doctorate from Hamilton in 2003 and Ruth and his children traveled to the college to partake in the ceremony. He was also part of a team of musicians who performed annually at Hamilton College’s Fallcoming event. This annual gathering of jazz luminaries is in its 26^th year, and Bucky played at 12 of these events. One of our favorite memories is the year we brought his son John’s trio with John’s brother Martin on bass and Bucky as special guest. When John introduced Bucky to the stage, he referred to his father as “The Pope.” We previously blogged about this event, which occurred in 2004, and you can read it here, entitled Family Matters.

I was in attendance when John’s trio was playing at a swank supper club in New York City. After one virtuosic number, when the applause died down, a voice came out of the audience directed at John, saying, “That’s not so hard.” John said, “What do you mean?” The voice repeated sarcastically, “That’s not so hard.” John replied (acting annoyed), “Well would you like to come up here and try it?” The voice said, “All right I will,” and guess who strode up to the stage? Bucky. He was a plant, a set-up that was artfully executed.

After a number of years booking the Fallcoming jazz group, I was invited to play an entire set and, pretending to be reluctant, I knew I would be striding into a musical heaven. I remember Bucky sitting next to me playing Dick Hyman charts and there is a particular photograph which graces the home page of my website, where Bucky seems to be beaming approval at my soloing efforts.

Bucky’s job was doing what he loved. He played in every possible situation with every conceivable musician both here in America and abroad. He and his gracious wife Ruth had a wonderful family with four beautiful and caring children: Mary, Martin, John, and Ann. What more can you ask for?

The Hamilton community sends its deepest sympathies to the entire Pizzarelli family, for we will always carry loving remembrances of him in our hearts.

To watch our Bucky interviews, Part 1, conducted 10/11/1997 can be found here. Part 2, conducted 5/23/2003 can be found here. And the third interview, which was conducted at his home with his wife Ruth on 1/19/2015, can be found here.

Advice for Jazz Graduates

It’s May. Thousands of young people across the country move on from their college education into the real world. Some of them entered college not knowing what their career path might be, and some of them graduate from college still not totally clear on where they are headed. It’s been my experience that music students are among of the most focused of all young people. Music students know exactly why they’re going to college. They may be headed on a performance path or a music teaching career, but there is no doubt of their planned trajectory from day one of their freshman semester. Four, six or eight years later their hoped-for destination may have shifted, particularly in the field of jazz. Jazz is one of the most creative, exciting and challenging career paths a musician can pursue, and equally fraught with competition. In this blog we’d like to offer three opinions about a jazz career and how to prepare for it.

In a most recent interview, I spoke with Denis DiBlasio, saxophonist and educator at Rowan University. His take on careers in jazz is highly relevant for the times.

Denis DiBlasio, in 2019

MR:   So are you able to give [jazz majors] advice on what their possibilities are after they graduate?

DD:   Well the ones that are serious we usually have a talk right around the sophomore, junior year. And it’s different for these — the age that we’re teaching now than it was for us. They can’t do what I did, because what I did doesn’t exist anymore. You know you go out in the big band, maybe get a name. I mean almost everything that happened to me happened because I was on Maynard’s band and I maybe took advantage of it afterwards, doing these clinics and all this business you know. It all came because people saw me with that band and you know then you’re able to keep it going. Most of us that have been on the bands, a lot of them, like when I think about the people I know who are doing things now, they either were with Count’s band or Duke’s or Woody’s or Stan’s or Maynard’s or Buddy’s, you know? And when these guys leave they either go to Chicago, New York or LA for the most part, and there’s pockets of guys, and they’ve all had that kind of experience, so — but now that whole band thing doesn’t exist. And I don’t want to say it shouldn’t, it just doesn’t. But when a student starts talking now about you know what am I going to do when I get out, I get them in my office and we look at YouTube. And I talk to them about how certain people have to — well you have to kind of design your own life. There’s nothing that you’re going to go to and join and that’s going to be your life in jazz. However, you look up — look at some of the people who are creating their own thing, and I’ll pull up you know Leo Pellegrino? Too Many Zooz? He’s a baritone sax player. He’s playing. And so I’ll pull that up. And I said, “Look at what he did.” Now no one would think you’re going to make a living doing this. But he put this up. Social media is a big part of it. You develop your own audience so your audience comes and sees you, where before you would play a gig to sell your CDs. Now you’re giving away CDs to hope they come to your gig kind of, because you have to have, how do you develop your audience? You’ve got to have an online presence. It’s all the stuff that didn’t exist before. Have a website. People start to follow you. People ask you questions, you answer them back, and I have a couple of students that have gone out and been successful but part of the work is this online activity that is very much a part of it all. We have a Music Industry major at our school. And these guys that teach it like they’re all about this thing. And I asked one of the guys, I said, “How do you get a record deal these days?” Because the record deal thing the way it used to work was different. You have a name like Sal Nistico. Played with Woody Herman, great tenor player. Sal gets off the band, Sal’s got recordings, ooh let’s follow Sal. That’s over. How do we do this. And I said, “What would the record companies even do?” He says, if you came to a record company one of the guys told me that the record company is going to look at your social media to see how many followers you have. And if you have enough followers then I’ll just create a real nice slick video for you and we’re just going to post it on the followers that you’ve already made and there’s your audience. So if you have enough followers you’re apt to get a record deal, not that the music isn’t that important but it’s almost not as important as how many followers you have. Nobody’s going to listen to it to say man that’s great tenor playing. They’re going to say who’s going to follow you? Nobody. Well then we’re not interested. So I think wow, that’s a whole change. But they need to know that. And as a teacher teaching something that is like an art form, and the society around it is changing so quickly you can’t look at it like the way it used to work. But it’s do-able and there are some kids doing it. So some of my students they get on it, it’s not that foreign for a lot of them, and they have a big presence. Because now it used to be the club would advertise it and you would go and play and you know you get paid and hopefully somebody would show up. But now they want a guarantee that you’re going to bring your peeps to the gig, right? So you have to guarantee like 35 people before you get — but for some kids it’s not a problem because they’re active on the social media. And that’s a thing that never happened — that didn’t even exist before. And when I had to learn that, I won’t say it was a bitter pill but it was so opposite of how I came up. But we talk about it and we look and Colin Stetson, this guy that plays bass saxophone and he sets up a loop, he does these concerts — it’s great playing. It’s unbelievable playing. I never heard it. I have about five different people that I show my students look at what they’re doing. This is what you have to do if you want to have a future in it. Because what I did is gone. It’s not a bad thing, it’s just what it is.

Denis mostly works with instrumentalists who hope to carve their own niche in the world of jazz.

Ametria Dock is a valued vocal and theatrical coach and has worked with numerous successful artists during her own career. She is adamant that setting goals is essential. In our 2019 interview, she offered advice.

Ametria Dock, in 2019

MR:   If you get a student that comes to you about the age of when you entered the business and they say, “I really want to make it in the music business.” This idea of making it — do you address that?

AD:   Absolutely. So I have a lot of young artists, up-and-coming I call them, artists, creatives. Now I have some that are really successful in movies and television right now that are transitioning over to doing more musical things. And we sit down and we talk about what is your idea of making it. What does that mean for you? What does that look like for you? Who does that look like for you? Who are some of the people that you think made it you know? Because sometimes what you think making it is not necessarily — I mean is it making a lot of money? Is it doing what you love everyday? So we sit down and we have conversations about that. And I have some really, really intelligent kids that are way ahead of their time. So I’m blessed to be able to mentor and sit down and have real conversations about what that looks like. What does the next five years look like for you in terms of working on this music and working toward whatever goals you have. We sit down and we create plans and things like that. I think that’s important — whether they’re kids or college aged, 20, 21 years old and coming up with a plan of action.

MR:   I wonder how the technology and the way music is delivered these days affects their vision?

AD:   Yeah. 100%. I think it does. I think that social media, I mean it has its value, but it also makes the creative, the artist see something so fast. It’s here today and it’s gone tomorrow. And so music that artists that I loved growing up, you know, they had albums upon albums upon albums. And now we have singles. And they’re here for a couple of weeks and then it’s on to the next thing. And it’s scary because you never really get to — I feel like a lot of artists got to really dig deep and develop and evolve and become. Artists today, that opportunity is, I mean you get a window and then you’re gone.

MR:   There used to be an art to creating an album concept, and which song should follow which and the keys and all that kind of thing.

AD:   Yeah. There was a lot of thought put into making an album or creating a body of work, and then introducing it to the world you know. I think now there’s more emphasis on introducing it to the world than the body of work, in my opinion. It’s like you’re pushing to put something out instead of taking the time to really master and create, and so yeah that’s my opinion.

And last, but certainly not least, the late iconic saxophonist Phil Woods suggests that the path to a jazz career has to start before you enter your freshman college dorm. As a successful jazz man who paid many dues, I feel he is qualified to offer the following advice:

Phil Woods, in 1999

MR:   Do you have advice for aspiring jazz musicians that might help them in their careers?

PW:   Advice for young jazz men. No. I figure that if they’re going to do it, no matter what I say they’re going to do it. It’s for those ones in between, those ones that aren’t really sure, those are the ones I worry about. I mean I think jazz is only for those that have no choice. I think if you’re a young man and you’re entertaining thoughts of becoming a brain surgeon or a jazz tenor man, I’d go with the brain surgery, you know what I mean? If you have a choice. If you’ve got two burning desires, don’t pick jazz. I mean keep playing it, I mean sometimes I envy the amateur, like all those dentists and doctors who play for kicks. They don’t have to worry about making bread at it. They really enjoy making music. And that’s really what it’s about. Never forget that joy, that first time you made a note and it made you feel good. Musicians kind of forget that stuff, you know, they’re sitting in the pit and reading The Wall Street Journal and grumpy, grumpy, grumpy. They forgot that feeling, that burn of the belly the first time they sounded decent. And it’s easy to get kind of trapped into just making some bread and trying to exist when the bloom is off the rose. But a young man should consider — you only have one life. When you make a choice, a career decision, it should be well thought out. Not too carefully structured mind you, but I wouldn’t rush into anything. I wouldn’t rush to go to a jazz school or any university. I always recommend take a year off man. Hitchhike around the world. Take your horn and see if you can play for your supper around the world. See what life is about while you can, before you have a family, before you need bread. Get a couple of thou and just do it. Just do it, man. Take a chance. Because you might never have a chance to do it, and that’s when you can really kind of get inside your head. It’s hard to do it when you’re surrounded by your peers or family or the pressures of society that you know — go somewhere where it’s all fresh and pursue your — find out who you are. And then when you decide, you’re going to be a much better player for this experience.

MR:   Well I think you just gave some good advice in spite of yourself.

PW:   Darn. There goes my image as the curmudgeon.

Jazz has evolved at a rapid rate, as have the social and economic conditions in which it lives. Opportunities for musicians that once existed have disappeared, but others have presented themselves. The music graduate must be open to career opportunities they create for themselves, which may not have existed thus far. Making a living in any genre of music has never been easy. People who have the requisite passion must also have parental support and enthusiasm behind them. Conversely, convincing a creative and determined young person that a musical path would be too difficult is unhelpful in the long run. Evaluating with an eagle eye the current musical milieu should be undertaken by all music majors before they arrive at music school.

Nancy Wilson 1937-2018

On the heels of our tribute to Joe Williams, we now learn of the passing of vocalist Nancy Wilson at the age of 81. Nancy and Joe shared a number of parallel lines throughout their singing careers. They had a common manager in John Levy; they both recorded albums with Cannonball Adderley, George Shearing, and Count Basie; and both objected to being typecast as a certain style of vocalist. I was fortunate to sit with Nancy Wilson in November of 1995 for an interview, and she addressed the issue of stereotypes:

NW:   I have to say about jazz critics, they really gave me the pits for a while. They felt that the Cannonball Adderley album was a compromise for Cannon. Because I was a pop artist.

MR:   No kidding?

NW:   Oh, yes. You don’t know the stuff they did to us. But my point that I’ve always tried to stress is I came into this business with a gift, the voice is a given. It was a gift from God. I didn’t put any labels on it. I also decided to leave my home to do this, to be commercial. I mean the object of the game for me was why would I want to, why would anybody in their right mind want to give up their security, their home, all the things that mean happiness to me, to go out to only want to fulfill somebody else’s idea of who and what I am. I figured that I was going to do this on a major scale or I didn’t want to do it. Because I could go home, go to Carnegie Tech as opposed to Central State, and be a doctor or be something in medicine, and I’d have been fine. But the voice was always out front. But I have never apologized for being a commercial artist. That is why I do what I do, is to sell. I want to be heard, I want to reach as many people as I can. I believe in that mass thing. You know I want everybody to know who I am if I’m going to do it.

I recall being surprised to hear this recollection, as the Cannonball Adderley-Nancy Wilson LP is one of my absolute favorite recordings.

One thing Nancy did not have to deal with was performance anxiety. Again from her interview:

MR:   Can you recall as a child, were you always pretty comfortable in front of an audience? 

NW:   It never occurred to me that you should be nervous. When I found out I was so grown that it didn’t make any difference. Then I found out people actually get nauseous and tremble and shake. Well I don’t want to do this if I have to be sick before I go on. But some people do. Some people just feel that that’s a part of it. I like being relaxed. I like taking it in stride. I love it. I keep it in its proper perspective, and it allows me to continue to do it. As long as I do it this way I can do it.

Nancy was awarded three Grammys and was an NPR host for Jazz Profiles. She considered herself a storyteller, and she chose the songs in her repertoire based on their strong narrative element.

This interview was conducted early on in our oral history project, when I was still developing an interviewing style. I will always remember the dignity and class that was part of Nancy’s persona. You can view the complete video here.

Joe Williams Centennial

Joe Williams, in 1998

Today we celebrate singer Joe Williams’ one hundredth birthday. Joe was born Joseph Goreed on December 12, 1918 in Cordele, Georgia. He grew up in Chicago, paid his musical dues with a number of area swing bands, and joined the Count Basie Orchestra in 1954. Joe started a solo career in 1961 which lasted four plus decades. Along the way he became close friends with Milt Fillius Jr., an avid jazz fan and a 1944 graduate of Hamilton College. Together Joe and Milt launched an oral history project, an effort to gather extemporaneous life stories of jazz musicians, their spouses, writers, producers, and jazz aficionados. This collaboration resulted in what is now called the Fillius Jazz Archive, and I am proud to be called the Joe Williams Director. Our 350+ video interviews are now posted on the Fillius Jazz YouTube Channel.

To celebrate Joe’s one-hundredth birthday we are posting a compilation of interview excerpts which were previously unpublished. Joe’s commentary is intertwined with anecdotes from his accompanist Norman Simmons, his manager John Levy, and Basie band members Bill Hughes and John Williams. These excerpts and outtakes were originally captured for the 1996 concert documentary called Joe Williams: A Portrait in Song, a film commissioned by Hamilton College and produced by Burrill Crohn.

We invite you to view this compilation here, and hope you enjoy the magic of Joe Williams all over again.

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The Queen of Soul, 1942-2018

Today I feel the same way as when I heard Ray Charles died. Aretha Franklin and Ray Charles embodied the best of the musical styles developed by African-American musicians, singers and songwriters. These include jazz, blues, Gospel, rhythm & blues, and soul, of which Aretha was the absolute Queen. A colleague at Hamilton College today said, “She changed us,” and I believe she meant that Aretha raised the bar of what a singer could do to and for you. Aretha’s music touched your head, your heart, and your hips. There was something to think about, there was something to feel, and there was something to make you move.

I had my own unforgettable Aretha Franklin experience. In 2008, as part of the Great Names series at Hamilton College, Aretha performed in the field house on the Hamilton College campus. Typical of many artists of her stature, she brought her own rhythm section, but a local horn section was required. I was asked to contract local musicians to fill the saxophone, brass and percussion chairs. Conveniently, I hired myself as an alto saxophonist.

Aretha Franklin at Hamilton College, 1988

What made the day so memorable, beyond the fact that the Queen of Soul was coming to town, was the heightened abilities required of the contracted musicians. We convened in the late afternoon the day of the concert. I would not describe it as a rehearsal, it was more of a run-through and a not-so-subtle message to be on your game: to pay attention and keep focused on the task at hand. The lengthy song list required that the tunes were not even run all the way through. Intros and endings were played, the music director said, “The rest will be okay, just watch me,” and boy did he mean watch.

The hardest part of the evening was to basically tune out Aretha. How do you not pay attention to Aretha Franklin? No one commanded the stage as she did. But as soon as we horn players looked up to soak in the talent in front of us, we invariably would miss our cue and lose our place in the music. By the way, that was music we had not seen until that afternoon.

Later when people asked me what was it like or how was she, I had to turn the question around and ask them. How was she? I’m not complaining mind you. I shared the stage with Aretha Franklin.

Aretha’s career spanned six decades and, like all iconic artists, the styles of music she performed moved from one genre to another. I will suggest two recordings to listen to, one being rather obscure. In 1973 Aretha was still experimenting with jazz and she chose to record Leonard Bernstein’s Somewhere from “West Side Story.” The first time I heard it I was very puzzled. How could she sing so far behind the beat? She was so far behind the beat she was in the wrong measure. This does not indicate that she was making a mistake. Aretha was taking her time. She was letting the music speak for itself, and inserting the lyric where her innate musicality told her to do so. A jazz section follows with Aretha on piano and a fine alto saxophonist. This was not a hit for Aretha, but it brings home to me that her musicianship matched her incredible voice.

The second recording comes from 2015 at the Kennedy Center honors. This was the year that songwriter Carole King was among the group of artists to receive the award. This clip doesn’t need much explaining but you might want to have a tissue close at hand. No one commanded the stage like Aretha Franklin.

Bill Watrous, 1939-2018

From the left: Wendell Brunious, Dennis Mackrel, Jerome Richardson, Keter Betts, Monk Rowe, Bill Watrous, Rick Montalbano

Readers may have noticed my absence from writing this blog. All my spare time has been spent preparing uploads for the Fillius Jazz YouTube channel, where complete interviews have been posted for more than half of our oral history sessions. The death of Bill Watrous, however, has returned me to the blog. My interview with Bill, viewable here, was comprehensive and congenial, but there is more backstory to be shared about my association with him.

In the spring of 1999, in true cosmic fashion, Bill’s promo kit arrived unexpectedly on my desk just as I was seeking a trombone player to participate on my upcoming recording of “Jazz Life.” This album of original compositions would eventually include myself plus six members, three of whom are now deceased: bassist Keter Betts, saxophonist Jerome Richardson, and now trombonist Bill Watrous. Rounding out the ensemble were Rick Montalbano, Dennis Mackrel and Wendell Brunious. Before I started the archive project I had always assumed that artists of the stature of Bill Watrous would be unavailable to me. However, every artist I contacted happily agreed to the engagement. I learned along the way that jazz musicians always have dates in their calendars to fill, and a gig is a gig. Bill proved to be full of positive energy as well as the consummate musician. He entertained the group with his personal cache of jazz stories, while treating the music as if he was in an L.A. recording studio. One of my favorite moments on the recording is during the improvisation section of BeyondCategory at the 2:34 mark where Bill seamlessly extends Wendell’s last improvised phrase, then launches into his own striking solo. As trumpeter Joe Wilder said of improvisation, you always want to make a smooth transition, as perfectly exemplified in this moment.

Our paths crossed again at jazz conventions, and over the years we exchanged phone calls where our lengthy conversations extended beyond music and into the ups and downs of everyday life. Oddly enough, Bill’s wife Maryanne occasionally referred to Bill as “Monk.”

Bill’s passing caught me off-guard. He always struck me as younger than his years, probably due to his distinctive Price Valiant haircut, penchant for jean jackets, and his poignant observations on current events. Adios Mr. Watrous, and thank you for our friendship.

Otis Redding's Music Theory

Fifty years ago, on December 10, 1967, pop star Otis Redding along with his band perished in a plane crash on a lake in Wisconsin. Otis was at the height of his career. His song “(Sittin’ on) The Dock of the Bay,” written with Steve Cropper, was released shortly after his death and became the first posthumous number one record. I have played this song countless times as a solo pianist and as a member of various bands. To me it’s a perfect example of hip chord changes, optimized structure, and interesting story line.

Fifty years ago in December I had decided on a career in music. As a high school senior I was doing my best to prepare myself for music college taking lessons on saxophone, piano, and music theory. One of the first things we learned was chord types — mostly major or minor. A three-note chord built on each tone of the major scale looks like this:

When using chord symbols, the minor triads are indicated with a lower case m, as in Bm (for B minor). This arrangement is the same for every key, and has provided a basic compositional language for hundreds of years.

For the verse of “Dock of the Bay” Otis and Steve chose the I, the iii, the IV and the ii chord, in that order. If you look at this transcription of the first eight measures of the song you will notice that their three and two chord are not minor at all. This very slight change makes all the difference in the sound of the song. I have tried playing the song returning those two chords to their normal state and it is amusingly terrible. It works in an odd way because of the nature of the melody, which will be discussed momentarily. But Otis and Steve’s progression is where it’s at.

In the chorus of the song, the chord choice is the I chord, followed by the vi chord. If we refer to our triad chart we notice that the vi chord is normally minor. But once again, our two songwriters change this chord to major, offering a distinctive progression that schooled musicians would rarely be inclined to employ.

When I did get to music school, I was placed in Music Theory 101, and quickly learned about four part contrapuntal composition. Among the myriad rules is a dictum to “avoid parallel fifths and octaves.” The Harvard Dictionary of Music defines this in musical legalese as: “…[T]he duplication of the melodic progression of one part by another at the distance of a fifth or an octave. Such voice leading is considered faulty and strictly prohibited in classical tonal counterpoint.”

Fortunately for us, Otis Redding was not confined by such archaic directives. If we look at his notated melody and the accompanying chords, we will find that this whole four-bar repeated phrase contains exactly the parallel octaves that classical composers were forbidden to employ. Even when it hits the chorus, Otis still lands on the root of the chord with his melody. I never noticed it until I sat at the piano and, instead of singing the melody, actually played it and compared the treble and bass. “A classicized version of the first four bars of “Dock of the Bay” would look like this:

If I had handed in this melodic invention in my Theory 101 class, red ink would have flowed. The professor would have been puzzled by both the chord progression and the insistence on parallel octaves. It’s a definite breach of classical etiquette. Including an F major chord in the key of G as Otis did later in the bridge would have earned a “see me in my office” from the professor.

What’s the conclusion? For me, I am continually fascinated and envious of the musical inventions of self-taught songwriters. Lennon and McCartney, Cat Stevens, and Joni Mitchell all fall under this category, and I like to describe it as “if it sounds good, use it.” Referring to music theory, trombonist Dan Barrett stated in his interview, “Any knowledge is good.” But there is a downside if adhering to music theory norms inhibits the use of ears and musical intuition.

If you haven’t found it by now, here’s a YouTube link to “Dock of the Bay” for your listening edification.

George Avakian, 1919-2017

Artists in all disciplines depend on a variety of behind-the-scenes personalities who bring their visions to life. George Avakian, who passed away on November 22, was an integral part of the presentation and marketing of jazz for six decades. In addition to his role as a producer, George was a jazz historian, a talent scout, and a prolific writer of LP liner notes. Early in his career he made a significant contribution to the jazz canon by compiling and re-issuing historically important recordings by Louis Armstrong and other jazz pioneers.

There is some debate about when jazz changed from entertainment to an art form. George addressed this question during our interview:

MR: Yesterday I had asked you a question about if the early jazz musicians thought of their music as an art form. And you said probably not.

GA: No not really. They were just playing happy music that they had developed within their lives, and they were happy making a living at it as best they could in many cases of course. Because a jazz musician’s life has never been easy unless you happen to hit it big. But I don’t think musicians ever took it seriously as an art form until they were told it was an art form, and that probably started, I think it would have to be during the World War II years. Because before there weren’t any articles being written in magazines, God knows no books to speak of, but once that started, quite a bit of pretension did begin to creep in. And some of it spurred I feel the bop movement because that was something new and hard to understand compared to the relative ease of listening to the earlier music because that was, among other things, dance music, social music, good time music, popular songs were involved. Bop became something which for the most part did not depend on familiar standard selections, even though a lot of the earlier compositions were simply variations on the harmonies which were themselves altered along the way, of standard tunes by Gershwin and Cole Porter and so forth. So it became a kind of an inside arty thing. And this was encouraged by the people who wrote about jazz because more and more writing about jazz took place in magazines.

George’s expertise in production and marketing played an important role in moving jazz not only into the retail marketplace but also into the greater culture. His range of projects included work with Louis Armstrong and other innovators such as Dave Brubeck, Miles Davis, and Gil Evans. Notable LP productions included Benny Goodman “Live at Carnegie Hall,” “Ellington at Newport,” and “Miles Ahead.”

George was the co-founder of the National Academy of Recording Arts & Sciences, and was named a National Endowment of the Arts Jazz Master in 2011.

From the Fillius archive, here is a link to the full YouTube interview I conducted with George on April 21, 1998.