The Basie Bus

Imagine your job required you to ride an average of 190 miles before you begin your workday. At the end of your shift you travel another 190 miles, but you will not be home. Instead you will arrive at a second- or third-rate motel room to be shared with one or two other co-workers. This was basically the life of a sideman in the world-famous Count Basie Orchestra in its early iterations.

The Basie band was originally a Kansas City organization. In the mid-1930s William “Count” Basie took over the Benny Moten Orchestra after the death of its leader, and in 1936 they ventured out from this swinging Midwestern city. Some of their early engagements were relatively comfortable, with multiple weeks spent in one location. The Grand Terrace in Chicago and the Apollo and Famous Door in New York City hosted the Basie band and offered them an opportunity to hone their soon-to-be-distinctive sound. But these location gigs were not the norm. Author Chris Sheridan reconstructed a multi-year itinerary derived from band member diaries and the records of the William Alexander Booking Agency in Count Basie: A Bio-Discography. This fascinating book includes a travelogue that gives us an acute sense of the dues paid by big band musicians during the swing era.

In 1938 the Basie band played a week-long stint at the Savoy Ballroom in New York City. The following day they left on a tour of 46 one-nighters in 51 days. Here is the documented itinerary for one month of that journey. Beginning on March 19, 1938 in New York City, they traveled to Harrisburg PA, Wheeling WV, Akron OH, Lexington KY, Dayton OH, Huntington WV, Mt. Hope WV, Bluefield WV, Charleston WV, Louisville KY, Memphis TN, Birmingham AL, Chattanooga TN, Atlanta GA, Bowling Green KY, St. Louis MO, Kansas City MO, Omaha NE, Kansas City MO, Topeka KS, Wichita KS, Tulsa OK, Muskogee OK, Oklahoma City OK, Ft. Worth TX, Shreveport LA, and Waco TX. This totaled 5,154 miles or an average of 190 miles between gigs. The road trip continued with 19 additional one-nighters, ending with a 488-mile trip from Durham NC to New York City.

Established bands like Duke Ellington and Cab Calloway traveled by private Pullman railroad cars, but the early Basie band spent most of their waking hours either performing or riding on the bus. There are loyal Basie fans who insist that the personnel from this era was never equaled. Among the future jazz legends were trumpeter Harry “Sweets” Edison and the tenor saxophone duo of Lester Young and Herschel Evans. What would later be known as the All-American Rhythm Section consisted of Jo Jones on drums, Freddie Green on guitar, Walter Page on bass, and the Count on piano.

In the segregated society of 1938 America, black musicians were denied opportunities in classical and radio orchestras. What they could aspire to was a chair in an established, working ensemble. In the Fillius Archive interview from September of 1995, Sweets Edison recalled the necessity of this lifestyle:

Sweets Edison, in 1995

SE: There was no place for us to play but dance halls. I joined Count Basie in 1938 and he used to do like 300 one-nighters a year. Where Benny Goodman or one of those bands would be in a hotel six months in New York and the hotel in Chicago for three months, you know, they always were sitting some place where they could do balls or whatever they wanted to do. They could be with their families, you know? But we had to take to the road.

Fast forward 20 years, the band bus is upgraded and an occasional trip by air is called for, but the grind of the one-nighters remained the same. Tenor saxophonist Frank Foster was part of the 1950s “New Testament” Basie ensemble, and in his 1998 interview he reminisced about life on the road, and how it was taking a toll on his family life:

MR: The decision to leave Basie — was it just the length of time you were there?

Frank Foster, in 1998

FF: It was a number of things, mostly I had a family that was growing, I had two children in my first marriage, and not being able to stay home more than a few weeks at a time, I was not able to really watch my kids grow up. And then gradually the audiences changed. I guess these people died off or something, and the audiences became mostly families, like people, maybe one guy, he loves the band, he brings his whole family, his wife and his sister and her husband and their children. And not everybody is feeling the way he’s feeling about it. And it got to appear as though a lot of people were coming just out of curiosity, like well let’s go see what this Basie band is about, I’ve been hearing about them, let’s see what they are. Oh, they’re not The Beatles. Oh, they don’t play rock & roll.

MR: Well you anticipated my question. I wondered if that was what was causing it, was the rock & roll.

FF: I think the advent of rock & roll and how the big beat just inundated the world, and I think that just kind of put a damper on things. The crowds, the big band groupies disappeared in the early, mid, late 50s we had big band groupies by the busloads. And that was all off. But it wasn’t so much that as the nature of the audiences was changing and it didn’t appear that everyone there was a devout jazz lover and a devout Basie lover. And so trips to Europe got to be not so exciting. And sometimes accommodations were a little touch and go. And I began to get tired of the bus. We began to become weary of smelling each other’s armpits.

MR: Basically living with each other all the time.

FF: Yeah. Basically living with each other all the time. And some guys who came to the band couldn’t get along with guys who were already there and there were a couple of even fist fights, and all manner of things that were making road life not as glamorous and as fun and as happy as it had been. The novelty had worn off and I had gotten involved in so many different kinds of undesirable affairs and personal life was just in a shambles. And I wanted to be closer to these children. So all these influences. And plus, oh the big thing was I wasn’t getting to play enough.

Young musicians of every era can read these stories, and even if they hear them first-hand from those who lived it, they still decide for themselves that they want to do it, and eagerly inquire, “When does the bus leave?”

Monk's Top Ten

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I was recently listening to “Desert Island Dreamers” by Bucky, John and Martin Pizzarelli, where they musically answer the question concerning must-have songs when stranded on a desert island. This is not the kind of list you would find in a jazz history book, where the author cites historically significant recordings that impacted the development of jazz. This collection was not conceived in the context of jazz history or evolution. In fact, only Louis Armstrong can be found on all jazz critics MVP lists. My opinions are personal, certainly based on musical content but also on the impact these recordings had on me at specific moments in my life.

When I look for a common thread, I find that all these recordings satisfy my own definition of essential listening: they move me physically; they stay in my head long after the record ends; and they touch something indefinable in the area of my heart.

Click on the song title to hear the particular song.

Sack O’ Woe

Cannonball Adderley Quintet recordings could easily fill my Top 10.  “Sack O’ Woe”  gets the nod here, a perfect example of “soul jazz.” Blues-based, with a back and forth between swing and straight grooves, and Cannonball’s inimitable presence on the alto sax. The live recording adds a nice bit of audience interaction.

Green Onions

More R&B instrumental than jazz, it seems this song will never die. The sound of the Hammond B3 organ is key to the success, as well as guitar and organ solos that seem like the only possible thing that could have been played at that moment. If you don’t respond physically in some fashion, check your pulse. I previously wrote an entire blog on this song, here.

Harlem Lullaby

Late-night jazz radio exposed me to his tune during my high school years. Pianist Junior Mance translated an evocative mood into music, a feeling that I still cannot put into words. The closest I get is a combination of soul and nostalgia except that I never experienced whatever it was that made me nostalgic. Junior has an uncanny ability to infuse a blues tinge into every phrase. I also wrote a blog on this tune, here.

In the Mood

As a junior high sax player, this tune provided a swinging challenge and an early lesson in big band arranging. The back and forth between the saxes and brass is classic big band writing. My parents took me to see the Glenn Miller “ghost band” and I must admit that I have watched “The Glenn Miller Story” enough times to memorize all the dialogue.

Take Five

Lightning struck for the Dave Brubeck Quartet. Dave encouraged Paul Desmond to write a melody that could match up with drummer Joe Morello’s 5/4 explorations. The collaborative effort resulted in a bona fide hit. According to jazz lore, Desmond thought the title, suggested by Brubeck, was ridiculous. Can you imagine it being called anything else?

Struttin’ With Some Barbecue

Absolute exuberance from the one man most credited with setting a formative musical style on the right path. Louis Armstrong’s playing and singing  became the model for generations of musicians and he spread music around the world, earning the sobriquet, “Ambassador of Jazz”.

Fly Me to the Moon

Count Basie, Frank Sinatra and Quincy Jones. This trio of musical giants does not disappoint as each contributes to a musical gem that could not possibly be improved. The Chairman of the Board knew his music and never sounded better than when he was standing among the Basie crew. This one also warranted a separate blog entry, here.

You’re Driving Me Crazy/Moten Swing

This recording is the latest to make my list but its place in a stylistic jazz timeline is only preceded by the Louis Armstrong tune. Pianist Dick Hyman arranged this medley for a small group of superlative players and captured early swing in a modern recording environment. The fact that I was able to play this music with Mr. Hyman in a live concert helped boost it into my favorites.

Us

The Thad Jones-Mel Lewis Orchestra provided us with a modern, adventurous big band. Thad’s writing was unique and I love the sections where the rhythm section drops out, leaving the brass and saxes alone. Jerome Richardson on soprano sax provides a lesson in economy and expression. The saxophone section gets a workout that becomes more challenging as the choruses progress.

Birdland

How can one song have so many hooks? Keyboardist Joe Zawinul, who spent ten years with Cannonball Adderley, cites a night at Birdland with the Basie Orchestra as inspiration for this iconic fusion hit. The combination of ear-catching riffs with its  infectious groove made it adaptable for both professional and scholastic ensembles.

George Martin, 1926-2016

Tonight I was flipping through a sampling of Beatle LPs. George Martin received a one-line mention on every album: “Produced in England by George Martin.” What exactly does that mean? I moved on to LPs by Steely Dan, Michael MacDonald and Al Jarreau. Separate individuals were credited as producer, for rhythm section arrangements, horn arrangements, string charts, etc. A Paul Simon CD, “Rhythm of the Saints” had multiple individuals credited for “guitar arrangements.”

I’ve done enough studio work to witness producers at various levels, some of whom were not musicians at all but had developed a good ear and a perceptive sense of what was needed for a particular group of musicians. For bands fortunate enough to have a big budget contract, the average producer might say, “Hmm I think I hear string parts on this song. Let’s get someone in here to listen and arrange it.” An arranger would come in, listen to the song, write the chart and pass it off to a music copyist. Meanwhile the producer might call a contractor whose job it is to know who the proper musicians were and how to contact them. The contractor books the date, the arranger may conduct the session, or perhaps another conductor is called in to facilitate the recording of these parts.

Mr. Martin did all of these things. His classical experience enabled him to write effectively for all the strings and brass, and to know what setting would take the Beatles’ songs to a yet-unheard-of level. In addition to his skills as an arranger, Mr. Martin had the connections to know exactly who to call and how to get things done.

Most important of all, he heard in his head what would complete the potential musical gems offered by Lennon, McCartney and Harrison. That’s the first step. Musicians can listen to arrangements and say “I could have written that.” They might listen to the strings that graced McCartney’s “Yesterday” and say “I could have done that.” Perhaps, but probably not. Writing the actual arrangement must be preceded by the insight that the song can benefit from it. All the skill of putting notes on paper is worthless if one does not have ability to conjure up the perfect accompaniment for the songwriters.

I would suggest you listen to the Beatles song “For No One.” How did George Martin know that a French horn solo would complete the song? How did he know that a small clarinet choir would make “When I'm 64” a song that would provide the appropriate geriatric sensibility to the lyrics? The list goes on and on.

We now know that George’s name credited on the back of these LPs was pivotal to the phenomenal body of work we love from The Beatles.