A Unique Venue

Camerman Forrest Warner prepares for the streaming

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I had assumed I had played every kind of gig imaginable, from ballroom dance engagements to blues gigs to jazz venues to concert halls to playing on trains and boats. But the online course that I am leading, Jazz: The Music, The Stories, The Players provided an unexpected opportunity yesterday. My musical partners and I played an hour-long gig in the Little Pub at Hamilton College. By itself, the setting was not extraordinary. What made it unusual was the fact that we were live streaming to course participants not only in America but throughout the world.

People viewing the course could write in questions and comments as we performed, and a partial list of countries we heard from included Brazil, Finland, France, Spain, Germany, Peru, Greece, Scotland and Argentina. We literally were able to address questions from other continents and respond to them in real time from the stage. 

The MOOC team fields questions during the event.

I had anticipated the hour going by in a hurry but in fact the pressure of playing for a global audience made the time pass slowly. I think I can safely say that the music came through in fine form no doubt due to the flexibility of my first call musical partners, John Hutson on guitar, Tom McGrath on drums, and Sean Peters on bass. In addition, the participation of Hamilton College students enlivened the event.

This online course seems to have struck a positive chord with many participants and it’s not too late to sign up. Although we launch the last week today, the course will remain up for some time. If it piques your curiosity give it a try at this link where you can sign up for Jazz: The Music, The Stories, The Players.

Inside the Studios, Part 1

The same technology that has seen incredible advances in computers, smart phones and the like, has also been incorporated into recording gear. It’s possible now to have your own recording setup in your home and produce high quality recordings, from beginning to finished product. Years ago the phrase “going into the studio” had a different meaning. Music was recorded in spaces ranging from two rooms to vast complexes. Every sound we heard, from popular music to commercial jingles was recorded by engineers and performed by musicians. The next few blogs will take a look at the studio scene: the musicians who found lucrative employment there, and the ups and downs that occurred in that setting.

We are going to start our series with a guest post from my friend and bandmate, drummer Tom McGrath. Tom has participated in studio work from both sides of the glass, and in this blog he relates an experience from his years as an owner and operator of a studio in New York City. His clients included well known artists such as Bernard Purdie, Art Garfunkel, and many others.

 To be on Time?...That is the Question

by Tom McGrath

In the world of the ticking clock (digital and second hand) we are always reminded that time is passing us by. Some of us have “…gone fishin’” while others have their day planned quarter hour by quarter hour. I for one can teeter between the fishin’ and organized chaos. When it comes to performing music, being on time has “necessity” written all over it. Here is my “being on time” story from some years ago.

While living in New York City in the late 1980’s I was fortunate to own a small but thriving production recording studio. Reel to reel tape was the techne’ du jour while digital was for the big boy studios. Just the same, the studio was known for its live rhythm section in support of singer-songwriters; many of who were honing their craft through producing demos. A drum magazine hired out the studio to produce and edit drum tracks. The audio tracks would be put to cassette, which would accompany the featured article. One such article was spotlighting Ginger Baker. Mr. Baker, the master of groove and improvisation, along with Jack Bruce and Eric Clapton, formed what was considered the first “power trio”, Cream.

The producer of the drum tracks had scheduled Ginger to arrive at the studio at 9:00 a.m. but reminded me that Ginger would probably not arrive on time, and that he, the producer, would arrive at 10 a.m. Running a business requires you to read between the lines, which I did in this case. I arrived at 8:45 a.m. to set up a few microphones and get the coffee and tea brewing. The ticking clock struck 9:00 a.m. while the rhythmic knock on the door followed seconds later. I was greeted with, “Hello, my name is Ginger Baker” with his distinct majestic English accent. He asked me if I allowed smoking in the studio, I didn’t, but how could I say no to Ginger so I obliged and offered him tea and half of a scone. The vocal narrative overdub session went great and in one take we heard the beginning of Ginger Baker’s life as an English skiffle drummer, simply magnificent.

Reflecting on this now, so many years later, it still percolates in my head, like the coffee that morning, “…even Ginger Baker arrives on time!” It meant a lot to me that someone of his musical stature understood that his timely arrival would or could affect other peoples’ schedule.

Whether you play in a pit orchestra, doing club dates, bar gigs or private parties, if the “downbeat” is 8 pm, 6:30 or 12 a.m., be on time. Allow yourself plenty of time to setup in a comfortable manner; anticipate unexpected travel delays or load-in snafus. Your late arrival could affect the other players on the date and potentially place a dark cloud over the entire gig. In the end playing music is designed to be fun and arriving on time will ensure that fun will be part of the experience.

Musical Time Travel

I’ve stated before that my performing repertoire and listening habits can hardly be considered current or up to date. My role as Jazz Archive Director at Hamilton has strengthened my enjoyment of jazz music and personalities from the past — the swing era and the soloists from the 30’s and 40’s. My “songs for gigs” list reflects this obsession and my “current tunes” are now mostly from the 50’s and 60’s.

My passion for this music was reinforced and well-satisfied during the last three weekends. The annual Fallcoming concert at Hamilton for the last five years has featured a group led by pianist Dick Hyman. This year’s members included guitarist Bucky Pizzarelli, trumpeter Randy Sandke, drummer Jackie Williams, and bassist Jay Leonhart. Jazz fans will raise their eyebrows at such an impressive cast of characters.

For Fallcoming Jazz ‘13 we tried something different than the normal organized jam session format. A number of years ago, a Dick Hyman CD entitled “From the Age of Swing” came to my attention. I fell in love with the creative arrangements for a four-piece rhythm section and four horns, consisting of alto and baritone saxes, trumpet and trombone. Mr. Hyman’s charts captured the feel of the early big band era, and his imaginative writing was a joy to hear and play. The quintet was augmented by Syracuse trombonist Greg McCrea, Hamilton student Deanna Nappi on baritone sax, and myself on alto sax. Here’s a YouTube link of the first tune we played on this concert.

We played the Hyman charts on September 27, and I found myself immersed in musical heaven. Randy on trumpet faithfully reproduced the approach and sound of Joe Wilder, the trumpeter on the original recording. The rhythm section provided an indescribable bed of swing, demonstrating the power of organized simplicity, and it wouldn’t have happened without the 4/4 chordal strumming of Bucky Pizzarelli, who also was on the 1999 recording. Guitarists describe this as “Freddie Green,” the style of strumming that Mr. Green provided for the Count Basie Orchestra for nearly 50 years.

Here’s a description of that style from Bucky, taken from his 2003 interview:

Bucky Pizzarelli

MR:    Is there some distinguishing thing about what Freddie Green did that’s possible to verbalize?

BP:    It’s very hard to describe what he did but he played a 4/4 beat with an accent on two and four, and he just kept chunking away. And if you study the music of Count Basie, the rhythm section never played figures with the band. When they played eighth-quarter-eighth, you know, they just kept chunking away through the whole thing. And it works better that way. The minute everybody’s doing the same thing it doesn’t work. It’s like a drummer hitting figures with the brass section. It’s terrible.

Jay Leonhart, Bucky’s rhythm section-mate at Fallcoming, described the specifics that make it work:

Jay Leonhart

JL:    I’ve heard Bucky, and who else, James Chirillo … the two of them, they’ll take the third and the seventh, right in the middle of the strings, right in that nice middle range around middle C, which on the piano would be — and they’ll just sit and play the third and the seventh. It’s either a minor third or a major seventh. Or maybe a sixth if they want to get adventurous. And they can just sit there and play like that. And the only notes coming out of the guitar are the relevant ones. And they’re not doubling the third, like making Bach turn over in his grave ... It’s so defined and clear. And as a result their chops are good because they’re not making a lot of moves and they’re not trying to play six notes with every … they can concentrate on the time, and they do. And that’s the way Bucky plays. Yet he’s a grand soloist when he plays songs by himself, he can really play the guitar. He’s not just a two, three and seven guy. He can really play the guitar.

This steady pulse allows everyone in the band to play less, and we know less equals more. It was a memorable moment, transporting me back to the time when this style was the popular music of the day. Mr. Hyman skillfully led the 8-piece ensemble, which had only engaged in a run through of the charts. As an added bonus, Deanna, one of my students, acquitted herself with great skill on the baritone saxophone. The biggest difference from actually performing this music during its original lifespan was the setting. If we had been performing in 1937 in a dance hall, the success of the band would have been determined by the number of dancers on the dance floor. This music has now been elevated to an art form worthy of a seated audience in a concert hall setting.

The next weekend I traveled to SUNY Fredonia, for another round of nostalgia. The annual Fredonia Jazz Ensemble reunion concert took place on Friday evening. In similar fashion, an all-too-brief rehearsal preceded a concert by members of the original members of the Fredonia Jazz Ensemble from the classes of the 1970’s. This weekend is always a mix of music and camaraderie, reconnecting with musicians from those brief college years who shared a love for big band music. At the time, we took pride in the fact that we were operating outside the conventions of the music program. In the mid-70’s jazz had not been embraced by the majority of music schools, and the jazz ensemble was a student-directed affair. Our repertoire this night consisted of familiar big band fare, but from the bands that thrived after the swing era. Material from Buddy Rich, Stan Kenton and the Thad Jones-Mel Lewis bands provided plenty of challenge. Most of us playing that night had harbored fantasies of getting a call to join one of these groups and abruptly leaving our studies in avid response.

As an incentive for my own writing, I always compose a new work for this weekend, and I can be confident that it will be played well and with great spirit. My new piece, “Angelica,” was received a good deal of praise, making it worth the time and effort.

The last step on my time travel took me back even further. I got a call to play a dinner dance entitled “A 1920’s Jazz Gala.” While my musical tastes have traveled backwards, the 1920’s was pushing it even for me. A fair amount of research was required for this Great Gatsby-era gig. It was an authentic recreation of a 1920’s speakeasy with period clothing encouraged for all attendees; a non-alcohol event in the spirit of prohibition. This time the songs included tunes you would find in dusty sheet music archives: “Alexander’s Ragtime Band,” “The Charleston,” and “3 O’clock in the Morning.” My current quartet rose to the occasion. The drummer brought vintage drums and the required whistles, woodblocks and cowbells that were so much a part of this upbeat small-band jazz. I was happy to see a number of college and high school students among the attendees, illustrating the fact that some eras carry a magical aura all their own. Here’s a photo of our group from this nostalgic evening.

(L-R) Monk Rowe, Tom McGrath,
John Hutson, and Sean Peters

The three consecutive weekends provided a welcomed musical challenge and a personal sentimental journey.

The Band Takes a DAT

This past Saturday my band took a serious dance aptitude test (DAT). We played for a local dance club, an organization that teaches ballroom dancing to couples and has monthly dinner dances where they practice what they learn. The instructor couple had indicated to me how much trouble they had in past years finding bands who could cut the gig. I sympathized with them up to a point, but in the back of my mind I was wondering what the problem was. Was it because playing for dancing has become a thing of the past? This is partly true, but musicians in my generation have spent many hours playing gigs where people dance, most often at weddings but sometimes in clubs. So I wasn’t quite sure what the problem was, until I got the suggested song list, which I requested.

When I received the list I understood their issue with bands. It was easy to see that these dancers would be very specific in their wants. In years past, a band leader could feel comfortable going into a gig with dancers by having a sampling of tunes that covered swing, a few 6/8 ballads, a couple of rock numbers, a waltz, a bossa nova and a polka if requested. These styles could usually get you through any gig.

The list I received from the leaders of this club was more specifically defined. It included all the above-mentioned styles, with the addition of a foxtrot, a bolero, a merengue, two types of cha-chas (a regular cha-cha and a chilly cha-cha), a samba, a rumba, a mambo, an Argentine tango and an American tango. You might guess that I was approaching this gig with a bit more seriousness than was originally anticipated. As I looked through the identified songs that accompanied each style, I surmised an unusual degree of homework lay ahead. The biggest issues were with the Latin numbers. When we are asked for a Latin tune, most musicians think of a bossa nova, like “Girl from Ipanema,” or “Spanish Eyes.” That used to cover the Latin genre. This list made me seriously ponder what I actually knew about the difference between a tango, a cha-cha, a samba and a mambo. I had to admit that I did not actually know a heck of a lot. Adding to my trepidation was the fact that although I had a quartet, I did not have my full band with me. I was grateful, however, to have Tom McGrath on the gig, my A-list drummer.

The gig was a dinner dance and I put a lot of thought into the first tune. We started in our comfort zone and played the bossa nova “Summer Samba,” (also called “So Nice”), and to my immense relief we weren’t four measures into the tune when more than half the audience was on the dance floor, even though they were mid-dinner. I immediately saw that these dancers knew their stuff. As the night progressed I felt better and more confident as the dancers responded to our selections. But in addition to all these styles, we had a flood of requests. We expected the polka and the waltz, but in addition we were asked for west coast swing, “Spanish Eyes,” “The Hustle,” “Mustang Sally,” “The Electric Slide,” and even a song called “Number 720 in the Book.” I admit I had never heard of that one, but we filled nearly every request and apparently passed the DAT by a margin of two standard deviations above the mean.

I often think I missed the era of music I really would have thrived in, the late 30’s through the war years, when the audience participated by dancing, when arrangers could find work with big bands, when there were plentiful gigs for sidemen, and when jazz and swing music was the popular music of the day. I try not to talk about music history that predated me as if I were there, like the 39-year-old who proclaimed in a Ken Burns documentary that in 1940 the Savoy dance club was THE place to be. So I will only say that I had a flash this last Saturday night of being in a dance hall in 1939. We had a stage, a beautiful dance floor, we had the spotlighted globe rotating in the ceiling, and we had 50 couples dancing and dressed to the nines, applauding after every selection with enthusiastic smiles.

If I’d had a roadie to move my gear I would have called it the perfect gig.