Songs of Summer

The summer season has provided inspiration for both popular and classical compositions for centuries. One of the earliest examples, circa 1260, is the English Medieval round “Sumer is Icumen In.” The translation from Middle English shows us that thirteenth century songwriters were motivated by the activities of summer. Sly Stone was similarly inspired in his 1969 hit “Hot Fun in the Summertime,” and a verse from each song seamlessly spans the centuries:

From “Sumer is Icumen In”:

            Summer has come in, loudly sing cuckoo

            The seed grows and the meadow blooms and the world springs anew

From “Hot Fun in the Summertime”:

            Boop boopa boop when I want to, out of school

            County fair in the country sun and everything is cool.

Instrumental music has its share of summer songs as well. Vivaldi had his 1723 “hit” with the Summer movement of “The Four Seasons,” and two hundred plus years later organist Walter Wanderley gave us “Samba de Verao,” (“Summer Samba”).

The Internet is rife with lists of the hundred best summer songs, and at present they are in heavy rotation on the oldies stations. My vote for one of the most outstanding summer songs is rarely heard on the radio, and never makes the lists.

In the late 1950s, Dave and Iola Brubeck started to collaborate on a musical production to be called “The Real Ambassadors.” Their lofty aspirations were to bring together some of the greatest musical talent in existence and show the world through music that humanity could live together in peace. Louis Armstrong was to be the focal point, and the whole production was built around his irrepressible voice and trumpet. Amongst the songs from “The Real Ambassadors” was a beautiful ballad entitled “Summer Song.” The music was by Dave Brubeck, and the lyric was by his wife, Iola. Iola managed to combine lyrical poetry, with homespun Americana. Her first line offers a beautiful simile:

            Love to me is like a summer day

            Silent ‘cause there is just too much to say

And later in the song:

            I hear laughter from the swimming hole

            Kids are fishing with a willow pole

“The Real Ambassadors” was recorded in 1961 and performed only once, at the 1962 Monterey Jazz Festival. The festival was mostly filmed but “The Real Ambassadors” debut was not, reportedly due to a lack of $750 that would have kept the film crew working. The Brubecks had always hoped that it could be turned into a Broadway production, but at this date it has only been reissued on CD. Check out Louis’ rendition of “Summer Song.” The Brubecks certainly could hear his voice when they wrote the tune. Louis made the song his own, just as he did a few years later with the hit “What a Wonderful World.” The song can also be heard on CD on the Columbia release “Dave Brubeck/Vocal Encounters” where Dave and his quartet are matched with the likes of Carmen McCrae, Jimmy Rushing, Tony Bennett and Louis Armstrong.

I came through the back door with my association with “Summer Song.” As so often happens, the first version of a song you hear is not the original. I became enchanted with “Summer Song” from the 1972 LP “Time and Love” by Jackie and Roy. Along with arranger Don Sebesky they cleverly combined their version of “Summer Song” with the Gershwin classic “Summertime,” entitled “Summer Song/Summertime.” To make the connection with the Brubecks one layer deeper, they invited saxophonist Paul Desmond to guest on the cut. He weaves “Summertime” in and out of his improvisations, and the lush arrangement by Don Sebesky make this version the equal of the original.

I had the privilege of interviewing both Dave and Iola Brubeck on separate occasions in their Connecticut home and I took the opportunity to play the Jackie and Roy version for them. They were both enamored of the recording; in fact Dave actually jumped out of his seat at a moment in the song (at 2:25). After Desmond’s gorgeous solo, Jackie and Roy sing an overdubbed four-part harmony that made the composer of this song sit up and take notice.

No one sits at a higher pinnacle in the music pantheon than the Brubecks, but in true humble musician fashion, both Dave and Iola separately mentioned the significance of Louis Armstrong’s participation in their “Real Ambassador” production. They both made mention of Pops’ inscription on their original score of “Summer Song,” which read: “To Mrs. Brubeck, I am very happy, Satchmo.”

Check out both of these recordings of Summer Song. I think you’ll have a new favorite for the season.

Dynamics Make it Interesting

A Bruce Springsteen quote: “I’m driving in my car/I turn on the radio.” The car radio gave me the impetus for my first blog about memorable music moments, and serves as a second inspiration for more. This time the focus is on dynamics. One of the definitions in Webster’s New World Dictionary defines dynamics as “relating to or tending toward change.” Then down the list, “the effect of varying degrees of loudness and softness in the performance of music.” Music students learn the basics of soft (p) and loud (f), as well as the gradual crescendos and decrescendos between them.

Back to the car. I was listening to the oldies station and was forced to another station by a song I couldn’t stand, and landed on the classical station. The DJ announced the mother of all classical pieces: “Beethoven’s Fifth.” How can you turn the channel from “Beethoven’s Fifth?” But how many of you have had the experience of listening to classical music in the car? More often than not it is a frustrating experience. Now you hear it, now you don’t. The obvious reason is the use of dynamics. Pop music rarely takes advantage of the effect of dynamics, unless it’s loud, louder, loudest. In fact if you’ve had studio experience, you know that the final mix on a pop song has the dB meter riding consistently just below the red. It’s a different story with instrumental classical music, where a huge part of the effect of a piece is the use of dynamics.

Let’s take a look at Beethoven’s Fifth Symphony, in particular the First Movement. Everyone can hum the four note figure in their head, and Beethoven milks it for all it’s worth, loud and intense. At about 1:09, he pulls back and decreases the volume and emotion, only to build up again. In this particular clip we hear some terrific use of dynamics, in the beginning, and also at about 2:46, where we experience the masterful use of crescendos and decrescendos throughout the First Movement. Watch Toscanini as he makes sure that the French horn lick at 4:50 is appropriately soft. It’s also interesting to note that Maestro Toscanini had memorized all of Beethoven’s dynamics and needed no score. It all works because this is concert hall music. People are being as quiet as possible, and no road noise intrudes.

Though separated by a century, setting, instrumentation and an ocean, Count Basie displayed the same skill as Beethoven in the use of dynamic extremes to create excitement in his work. With acoustic music, the most obvious way to increase the volume of a band is to have more people play, with varying degrees of intensity. Look at this version of the Count Basie Orchestra and their arrangement of “All of Me.” This is classic Basie. The piece starts with just the rhythm section, Freddie Green chomping away on the guitar, and Basie handling the melody in the most subtle fashion. Just before the halfway point, at measure 15 and 16 (1:07), all the brass and saxes slyly pick up their horns and lay into a three-note figure that takes the dynamics of the band from double piano (pp) to triple forte (fff). Perhaps some of you have had the experience of hearing the Basie band play this chart. I heard it backstage at a concert and it scared the life out of me. Listen to the audience. They applaud the dynamics! It’s a great moment. And of course, it’s followed by a return to that subtle chunking rhythm, a driving force with minimal volume.

Jerry Dodgion

Saxophonist Jerry Dodgion is most associated with the Thad Jones-Mel Lewis Orchestra, but in our interview from 1996 he cited his brief time with the Count Basie Band as thrilling and unforgettable. Jerry spoke of the unique ability of the band to play at both ends of the dynamic spectrum and still swing.

MR:   Did you get a chance again to record with [Basie]?

JD:   Yes, several years later. I didn’t even know it was with Count Basie which was good because I would have probably been nervous. I got a call for three days of recording with Chico O’Farrill on the answering service. And I showed up and it was Count Basie’s band. I’m looking around and I said am I in the right studio? So then I see Chico and I says I guess so. I mean that was really great. That was a lot of fun too. That was an album called “Basic Basie.” And I even played a few solos on that, which I was a little apprehensive about. I mean Lockjaw was on that too and he made that great recording of “Bewitched” on one of those dates. It was really wonderful to see this and be in there and be part of it happening. Because I loved the music so much and heard it on records so much, and heard the band in person. I heard the band in person a lot. And that band, the band of the ‘50s and ‘60s was an unbelievable ensemble band. Maybe it was really one of the best ever. They could play with the great swinging and feeling and the emotion and everything. But together. And the ensemble was just so together it was just thrilling. And the dynamics, unbelievable. I mean they could play softer than we’re talking now, the whole band. And you’d still hear the bass with no amplifier. Frank Wess would play the flute, Thad did some things with flute and bass, and you could hear him. Now I don’t know — when the amplification came in it changed everything, you know? The bass became louder than the band and you could not hear the flute unless you turned up the mic and when the flute player turns up his mic then the bass player turns up his mic and then there’s the guitar player, forget it. And here were — and there’s no end to this stuff. But the real sensitive part of playing acoustically, that band just was the best ever. I just, I couldn’t believe it.

Is there anything softer than triple pianissimo (ppp)? The only answer is silence. A rarely used effect in music is the total absence of sound. Two of my favorite musicians knew about it. Cannonball Adderley and Joe Zawinul had a productive working relationship from 1961-1970. Joe wrote many of Cannonball’s most notable pieces. Here’s an example from a live recording in Chicago. The “Country Preacher” Cannonball refers to is a young Reverend Jesse Jackson. Joe Zawinul composed the song and it starts in a meandering fashion with his electric piano lick followed by some Cannonball ruminations on the soprano sax. The band kicks into higher gear, reaching a crescendo at 2:23, ending with a snare drum whack by Roy McCurdy. What can follow that? How about three or four seconds of absolute silence, and then the most subtle entrance possible? Effective? Check out the crowd. They went crazy for the silence. That’s dynamic.

In a similar fashion, Samuel Barber, composer of the work “Adagio for Strings,” may have found himself in a musical quandary. Most people have heard all or part of this piece, as it has been broadcast at solemn occasions and notably employed in the Vietnam movie “Platoon.” This piece existed on its own for years and was first written as a string quartet. It is a marvelous example of the use of dynamics. No winds. No percussion. It’s simply a string orchestra at an imperceptible tempo, building and building, slowly stepping from one dynamic level to the next with rich harmonies. Barber’s composition climbs through seven highly emotional minutes, challenging the listener to stay engaged. Finally it builds to the point where you’re pleading for it to stop. And stop it does. What could possibly follow this heart-wrenching crescendo? Nothing but silence. A good three to five seconds of absolute silence is followed by a cautious reentry of the strings, allowing you to breathe again. This piece is not served well through your computer, so please plug it into your stereo system. Or, find a recording, turn out the lights, get rid of the video, and be absorbed by this piece.

Manny Albam

Arranger Manny Albam was interviewed in October of 1998. His work encompassed writing in the fields of jazz, popular music and classical orchestration. He spoke about dynamics and the potential power they have over audiences:

MA:   Subtleties work if you begin to manipulate the orchestra. And that is orchestration. And that is what dynamics in orchestration do[es] for the audience. You suddenly realize wow, they’re doing something I can’t quite hear, I’d better pay attention. That’s part of audience manipulation. I did things orchestrated on Broadway, not too much. I used to help other people and then I got my own thing to do. And I worked with George Abbott, Mr. Broadway, a great director and all that. And I wrote this great arrangement for one of the singers in the show and he called me over and he said “we don’t want applause at the end of that.” I said “no?” He said “no, we want that to dwindle off into the next scene and to be a smooth thing that will go right into the next scene.” And I learned something about that. They don’t want applause. If you want to bring the audience to their feet you write these big chords and the rhythm section and everybody’s wailing away, and the audience will go “hey! yeah!” and get up, “encore! encore!” You know, the show stopper. But these things are for dramatic changes that happen. No applause. I had to re-write the whole last twelve bars of the thing to bring it all down to nothing and then the whole thing would swing into place. Now once you learn things like that from other venues, in other words this is drama, this has nothing to do with music, but music has got a lot to do with drama anyway.

Dynamics leads to drama.

Vocal Musical Moments

Have you ever been asked to name a few of your favorite songs and drawn a blank? Too many choices. How about favorite musical moments? I know I have many, but I can’t mention them without a little prodding. Favorite songs and memorable moments don’t always coincide. The moments that catch one’s ear don’t always come from songs that would make it onto your personal Top 100. Recently I was listening to the oldies station and was reminded of a few of my favorite musical moments in the vocal category. They can all be found on YouTube, and surprisingly enough, the four I’ll mention all come from the 1960’s. Am I dating myself? Absolutely. But there’s little argument that the 60’s was a terrific musical decade.

The first one I could call a lightweight, a one-hit wonder by The Castaways called “Liar Liar,” and the best moment in it was “the scream,” one of the greatest ever heard in a pop song. This YouTube link will take you to one of the three or four videos of The Castaways. I chose this one for the added humor as they perform on what looks like American Bandstand or a similar show. The lip syncing is incredibly bad, and musicians will immediately notice no microphones, no guitar cords, and the distinctive Farfisa organ sound throughout the song is being “played” on a Fender Rhodes electric piano. But back to the moment. At :48 into the song the guitar player lets loose a scream worthy of a B grade horror movie, and it always caught my ear — the highlight of their one-hit. If you go to one of the other videos of the same song you will see the same scream, this time sung by the keyboard player. That’s what I call a democratic band.

The next two examples are eerily similar, both hits from 1968, both involve the singing of an impossibly high note that I first misidentified as a wind instrument. Sly and the Family Stone produced numerous hits; none more distinctive than “Dance to the Music,” one of the best examples of a song about music itself. After the initial hook, we hear the band reduced to the drummer for people who only need a beat, then the subsequent layering of the other instruments. As the song approaches the 2:00 mark, Sly nails a high G, a vocal feat that I was sure was a screaming tenor sax until Sly slid into his distinctive “yeah!” Perfect.

The 1968 hit by the Rascals “People Got to be Free” offers a similar moment. This particular Rascals song includes a powerful brass arrangement by Arif Mardin which made me think that the incredibly high note heard at 2:11 had to be played by what musicians call a “screech trumpet” — an understandable conclusion with a trumpet section being on board. But if you listen closely, this is indeed Felix Cavaliere hitting a note that most vocalists only dream about. The clue to identifying it as Felix is the same as with Sly, the note slides down into the once again classic “yeah.” You’ll find it at about 1:52.

The last song I’ll offer is a rarely heard vocal tour de force. The singer’s name was Billy Stewart. He sang for Chess Records, and died at the age of 33 in a car accident. He waxed this incredible vocal performance in 1966, an outrageous version of the song “Summertime.” This tune, originally from the opera “Porgy & Bess” is most often performed as a slow, sultry ballad, and also functions as a lullaby, as in “hush little baby don’t you cry.” Billy Stewart turned in a vocal performance that covers it all. Most distinctive is a sound that is hard to describe in words. Wikipedia calls it a “trilling of his lips.” More specifically it’s the sound that you make with your tongue if you speak Spanish or Italian — the rolling of the R’s — in this case taking it as far as it can go. We hear it during the intro at :42, then later in Billy’s improvised cadenza at 4:21. Check out the whole tune. In addition to this distinctive sound, Billy offers vocal gymnastics including scatting, improvisation, and unbelievable articulation. A terrific saxophone solo is an added bonus. Every other version of “Summertime” pales in comparison.

Of course I hope you’re inspired to listen to all of these songs in full, because the musical moments work best in context. Next up we’ll look at some memorable musical moments that involve dynamics.