Don Menza Sextet - Live at Carmelo's

© -Steven Cerra, copyright protected; all rights reserved.

“These live performances at Carmelo’s [were a great experience for me. It was a chance to play with some of my favorite players and, as time has proven, they have become jazz legends. Because of the time limitations of LPs, we had to choose from 2 nites of recording and only six tunes were picked for the original LP release. Here are some of the other tunes played on that historic live recording. Sam Noto was in town with the Rob McConnell Big Band. Sal Nistico flew in from N.Y.C. and the rest of us were here in L.A.

Thanks to the efforts of the late Herb Wong (my good friend) we had the opportunity to record the music of Frank Strazzeri and some of my charts. These charts were originally written for trumpet-tenor-trombone, but after the untimely death of Frank Rosolino everything was put on hold. On these recordings I played the trombone parts on baritone and some on alto.

It was curious that all the players on these recordings are from the East coast, and yet everyone considered us West coasters (always thought of as the cool school). As you will hear, these takes are anything but cool. My thanks to Jordi and Fresh Sound for re-releasing these recordings.”

- Don Menza, Los Angeles, October 2015

Thanks to Jordi Pujol, the six tracks that were originally issued as the vinyl LP Hip Pocket in 1982 on Palo Alto Jazz [PAJ 8010], were expanded to thirteen when they were released in 2015 on his Fresh Sound Records double CD Don Menza Sextet - Live at Carmelo's [FSRCD 883-2].

Recorded on the evenings of October 2nd and 3rd, 1981, the music on Don Menza Sextet - Live at Carmelo's is deserving of greater exposure given the high quality of the performances by Sam Noto, trumpet and flugelhorn, Don on alto and baritone, Sal Nistico, on tenor sax and a rhythm section made up of Frank Strazzeri, Andy Simpkins and Shelly Manne, on piano, bass and drums, respectively.

Started in 1979 by the Piscitello family, Carmelo’s was located on Van Nuys Blvd., in Sherman Oaks, CA. After Chuck Piscitello died in 1983, Ruth and Del Hoover took over the club and kept a Jazz policy in place for another three years.

Like many Jazz clubs, Carmelo’s offered an intimate environment for both Jazz musicians and fans, especially since the venue was centrally located in the San Fernando Valley [northeast of Los Angeles] where many L.A.-based musicians lived.

Leonard Feather, the esteemed Jazz author and critic, was a frequent visitor to Carmelo’s and wrote the insert notes to many of the LP’s that were recorded at the club including these liner notes to Hip Pocket [Palo Alto Jazz PAJ 8010].

“The catalogue of Don Menza’s accomplishments over the past 20 years would require the space available on a foldout, two-pocket album to enumerate all the bands and combos he has worked with, all the countries and cities he has played.  Don’s energetic personality, so well reflected in his music, has been Hollywood-based since the late 1960’s. But during the last two decades the vigorous, uncompromising sound of his saxophone, and the spirited, cooking character of his compositions and arrangements have taken him on the road with Maynard Ferguson, Stan Kenton, Buddy Rich, Louis Bellson and Woody Herman, to name just a few, to Germany (where he worked from 1964 to 1968 as a member of Max Greger's television house band in Munich), to Japan, and to the concert stages of the world.  Among other distinctions, he appeared in concert with the Buffalo Philharmonic playing two of his original compositions.

Since there is no way of drawing up a complete summation of Don’s achievements, it would be better at this point to concentrate on the particular session at hand, recorded live at Carmelo’s.

First, a word about the club.  New Yorkers and others who are not privileged to lead the good life in the Southland may be unaware that in the past three years this had become one of the most consistently successful jazz rooms in the world, with live jazz seven nights a week by large and small bands, local and imported talent.  Don has worked there countless times, as leader or sideman with a variety of cooking groups in the mainstream-modern idiom. On this occasion he headed a combo that owed much of its cohesion and excitement to a rapport among the members born of frequent associations over the years.

Four members in particular have much in common on the basis of their geographical backgrounds.  Don was born in Buffalo, NY, April 22, 1936. Sal Nistico (four years Don’s junior) is from the same neck of the woods, hailing from Syracuse, NY.  Like Don, he worked with Herman, thought at different times and for much longer stretches, and briefly with Buddy Rich. Sam Noto is a slightly senior member of what Don likes to refer to as “the Upstate Association”.  Born in Buffalo in 1930, he too was a Kenton, Herman, and Bellson sideman. (Nistico and Noto have another link in Count Basie, with whom they both worked around 1964-1965). Noto, after living in Toronto for several years, now has his own club in Buffalo.

The fourth member of this loosely affiliated group, Frank Strazzeri, is a greatly underrated composer and pianist, born exactly one week after Noto, in Rochester, NY.  “Strazz” has fewer big band credits, thought he has worked with Les Brown, Oliver Nelson, and Bellson, but most of his best known work has been achieved with the late Cal Tjader, and with innumerable small units in the Los Angeles area.

In a moment, a word about the music, but first and explanation for those who may find it surprising that Don Menza, so well established as a tenor saxophonist, is heard on these sides playing alto and baritone, leaving the tenor assignments to Nistico.

“The fact is,” he says, “alto was my first horn, and to this day I enjoy playing alto and baritone even more than I  like to play tenor. Besides, it adds a nice color to the album rather than the usual two-tenor line-up we could have used with Sal and me.  Don’t forget, also, that I played the baritone chair in Mike Barone’s big band, and at various times I played both the alto and the baritone parts with Supersax.”

Completing the group are two superb musicians who for many years have enriched the Southland horizon.  Andy Simpkins settled in Los Angeles in 1966 after a decade on the road with the Three Sounds. He then toured with George Shearing for eight years, and lately has been consistently busy in a variety of jobs, mainly with Sarah Vaughan’s trio.

Shelly Manne, born in New York, was world famous as a drummer (with Kenton, Herman et al) before founding his Manne Hole, one of Hollywood’s most fondly remembered jazz clubs (1960-1973).  As Don remarked when we discussed this album, “Shelly is something else! I can’t get over the tremendous support he gave everyone on this album.”

The proceedings get under way with Hip Pocket, a Strazzeri original played in unison, and typical of Strazz’s invariable personal and attractive lines.  The composer has his own outing, and Don’s muscular bari has a sound that is personal rather than the all-too-frequent attempts to duplicate Harry Carney or Gerry Mulligan.  Simpkins has one of the most creative solos of his recorded career.

A racehorse pace dominates the next  Strazzeri piece. The Third Eye with four way solo credits to Noto, Don (on bari again), Sal and Strazz, after which the horns have a stimulating series of eights exchanged with Shelly Manne.

Nobody who knows his bebop history will fail to recognize Quasimodo.  These Charlie Parker lines of 1947 are based on the changes of Embraceable You, fittingly Don switches to also here, with Sam and Frank further accentuating the bop groove.

The third Strazzeri work, Opals finds Noto switching from trumpet to flugelhorn for a legato, lyrical solo that is characteristic of him.  Don’s alto solo on this track displays a stunning fluency and the ability to create a melodically meaningful line. Strazzeri displays the two principal aspects of his style:  single note line passages alternating with contrasted sequences in chords.

Don has the spotlight (yielded for a while to Strazz) as his eloquent alto outlines Winter of My Discontent.  This is a 1955 melody by the late Alex Wilder, introduced by Mabel Mercer. “Strazz found this song for me,” Don recalls, “as he has many other ballads.  He has an uncle in Rochester who’s a pianist and who knows a vast repertoire of great tunes like this.”

Finally there is the leader’s own composition, Steppin’.  The pace is up but not too hasty, the groove essentially bop, and the most remarkable feature is a long, dazzling solo by Sal Nistico.  Don modestly stayed in the background here, playing only on the ensembles. Sam Noto, like Sal, displays the essential three C’s of great improvisation: control, chops and continuity.  The changes, as hipper ears may detect, are those of You Stepped Out of a Dream.

Altogether, the contents of this very hip pocket typify the high standards maintained throughout Don Menza’s peripatetic career.  They mirror, too, the very considerable power of that too seldom recognized cadre, the “Upstate Association.””

Leonard Feather

Encyclopedia of Jazz in the Seventies

NOTES FROM THE PRODUCER

“A quick review of these three horn players should prompt you to realize at least two things – it’s the first time they have been on record together as a front line and their rich histories in the jazz world testify to their guarantee of very satisfying swing and unblemished musical values.  Don Menza, Sam Noto and Sal Nistico – “the upstart upstate burners” – can ignite any session; back up this phalanx with tried and true talents of Frank Strazzeri, Andy Simpkins and Shelly Manne and it should work, shouldn’t it? In truth, it’s a rhetorical matter.

There are memories of the record’s music the listener does not have – the conceptual origin of the record date and the circumstances permitting of coaxing its process of insight and mutation.  Despite this blur of experience, you can still focus on it by tapping your foot and getting in touch with the inspired players and their music. The experience is never removed from immediate consciousness.

One of the delectable things about hatching ideas for record dates is bypassing a prior framework and relying more on intuition and imagination.  Last year I was helping put together the debut performance of Rob McConnell’s heralded Boss Brass at the Monterey Jazz Festival – a consequence of my visit to catch Rob’s Big Band in Toronto on the occasion of their “live” recording in December 1980.  One of the galaxy of star players was Sam Noto, whose trumpet work I had admired since his earlier days with Stan Kenton.

Don Menza and I mused about the possibility of Noto recording in L.A. once we learned the Boss Brass would be in Hollywood too.  (Incidentally, Menza has been a popular visiting player in Toronto for years.) To add even more Sicilian fire, Sal Nistico floated into our dream.  So he was flown in from his home in Queens, New York.

Fresh music came by was of Menza and Strazzeri’s resourcefulness and rehearsals were held at Menza’s “home-rehearsal hall” with an enthusiastic Andy Simpkins and Shelly Manne.  Every one is a strikingly versatile and individualistic player – precise, mature, charmingly lyrical and unflaggingly exciting.

In fact, it’s not possible to ignore the sense of presence and the in person deliberateness.  And you can get close to the musical play of light and shadows flickering in the musicians. The scent and heat soaked through clothing – players and audiences alike.  The qualities cultivated by the event stimulated strong emotional responses independent of any values one may attach to the scene. The band of six broke through the top of the thermometer.”

HERB WONG

(Dr. Wong is a jazz journalist and educator and broadcasts on KJAZ, San Francisco.)

Here’s a link to the Fresh Sound catalogue for order information.

The Red Mitchell and Harold Land Quintet

© Introduction. Copyright ® Steven Cerra, copyright protected; all rights reserved.

“Mitchell was known for a fluent improvising style in which pulled-off (rather than plucked) notes in a typically low register (Mitchell used a retuned bass) suggest a baritone saxophone rather than a stringed instrument; Scott LaFaro was later sanctified for a broadly similar technique.”

- Richard Cook and Brian Morton, The Penguin Guide to Jazz on CD, 6th Ed.

“The basic sound of the Mitchell-Land group is one that the musicians find elusive of verbalization. "Hard" is an adjective that has been applied too often lately to any brand of jazz with a substantial degree of aggressiveness; the implication that hardness involves harshness seems to invalidate the use of the term here. It is more relevantly a jubilant, sinewy, cohesive sound, in which the key factors are self-confidence and the kind of group feeling that can only stem from musicians who have been working together and listening to one another closely over an extended period.”

- Leonard Feather, Jazz author and critic

Among the unique voices in modern Jazz that always impress me every time I hear them are Red Mitchell's singing bass lines and Harold Land’s “Texas Tenor Sax Sound,” the blues-inflected, “moan within the tone” that Cannonball Adderley ascribed to this style.

Imagine my delight then when I learned that Red and Harold had teamed up in a new quintet that featured Carmell Jones on trumpet, Frank Strazzeri on piano and Leon Petties on drums.

Although the group disbanded after only about a one year stint, it was one of the finest bands on the West Coast playing a style with an emphasis on “heat” rather than the “cool” usually associated with Jazz on the Left Coast during the 1950s and early 1960s [all of which was exaggerated marketing nonsense to begin with].

Gene Lees offered these observations and thoughts on Red in his Cats of Any Color: Jazz, Black and White:

“Back in the 1950s, two names loomed very large on the bass: Ray Brown and Red Mitchell, idols of other bass players. Mitchell has to be accounted one of the most influential of jazz bassists, in a line with Walter Page, Jimmy Blanton, and Charles Mingus, if only because one of his proteges. Scott LaFaro, influenced just about every younger bass player since his death at twenty-four — almost the same age at which Blanton died. But more bassists have obvious audible debts to LaFaro and to Mitchell, who remains, as Mingus did, a phenomenon of one.

No one sounds like Mingus. No one sounds like Red Mitchell. What makes his playing so really odd is that he developed an approach to the instrument as if it were a saxophone, extracting from it melismatic vocal effects, glissandi that bespeak enormous strength in the left hand. At times he would play bottom notes on the first and third beats of die bar and then strum the rest of the chord on two and four on the top three strings, using the backs of his fingers a little like one of the techniques heard in flamenco guitar.

He developed a huge sound, producing tones that lasted forever, and did things on the instrument that no one else had ever done, and possibly no one else will ever do. He long has been looked on as something of a curiosity because he changed the tuning of his bass from the conventional fourths to fifths. One of the things one would not figure out for oneself is that the tuning actually could affect the sound of his instrument by altering the nature of its resonance.

Ted Gioia in his definitive West Coast Jazz: Jazz in California, 1945-1960 offered these comments about Harold Land beginning with his early association with Max Roach and Clifford Brown’s Quintet before the group moved to New York and Harold, who chose to stay in Los Angeles, was replaced by Sonny Rollins:

“His early Coleman Hawkins sound had by now broadened to include a fluent command of the bebop idiom, complete with a polished technique that could navigate the most challenging progressions and tempos. Throughout his career Land has shown a continued ability to assimilate new sounds and musical ideas. First grounded in the music of the big band era tempered with a dose of R&B, Land later assimilated the modern jazz vocabulary and made it his own, just as, in the 1960s, he would adopt many of the musical mannerisms developed by John Coltrane and his followers.

A restless stylist, Land has been the jazz leopard who continually tries to change his spots. His stint with the Brown/Roach Quintet was no exception: For two years Land further refined his craft within the confines of this world-class ensemble, slowly forging a quintessential hard bop sound that would reach its fullest expression in his later work as a leader and with the Curtis Counce group.”

Sadly, Red and Harold’s quintet only made one recording together - Hear Ye!!!! [Atlantic Jazz 1376-2] which the distinguished Jazz author and critic Leonard Feather annotated in the following insert notes to the original LP.

“The record debut of the Red Mitchell-Harold Land Quintet may mark a turning point not only in the career of this group, but in the whole image of West Coast jazz.

For too many years this slogan was associated with a brand of music, emanating exclusively from Los Angeles, that employed tautly scored little performances with all the shine and sparkle of a prune. It was claimed at times that this represented a new trend in jazz, that the music had its own validity and was not a mere faded reflection of some ideas that had become desiccated on their way west from New York. Time has killed theory and music alike.

Red Mitchell and Harold Land were never a part of that scene. True, they have worked at times with some of the musicians said to typify West Coast jazz, but this has no more direct bearing on their musical ambitions than Red's TV shows with Mahalia Jackson or Harold's Las Vegas excursion with Brook Benton. Both were interested in a new, fresh, bold sound, one that could give the tired West Coast slogan a valuable meaning.

That their paths crossed, leading to the creation of what John Tynan in Down Beat aptly called "the most stimulating and creatively alive jazz group resident on the West Coast," was the product of a series of fortuities. Red, a New Yorker, had worked in the East with Chubby Jackson (as pianist doubling on bass), Charlie Ventura and Woody Herman. He moved to Hollywood in 1952, when he began a two year membership in the Red Norvo Trio.

"I can't remember exactly where and when I met Harold," says Red, "but I heard him with the Clifford Brown-Max Roach group around 1954-5, and then really got to listen to him extensively a year or two later when he was with Curtis Counce's combo.

I guess there was a mutual respect thing going; we started hanging out more, got to like each other a lot personally, and found out we had a lot of things in common, a lot of musical ideas and ideals.."

"It seemed a natural thing for us to get together. Even our families had grown close — our wives and sons — and somehow we started out with an idea for a quartet. But we wanted a fuller sound, and different voicings, and we had this concept of using the bass as a third voice on some things, so we agreed that the quintet is a perfect jazz instrumentation,"

"I can't remember exactly where and when I met Red," says Harold, completing the mutual oblivion pact, "but I think it was in San Diego, where I lived before I came to Los Angeles. He played there in a little group that Woody Herman had with Bill Harris and Bags, in 1950. That was four years before I moved north."

"The first time we played together was at an art exhibit, with a quartet. By that time I had known and admired Red's work for a long while. We both got to thinking that we could provide a few fresh approaches to the quintet sound. We felt there weren't enough well-organized, tightly-knit combos on the scene. . ."

The three sidemen lined up by these two leaders were all logical choices. "Carmell had come out to the coast primarily to work with Harold; he dug him that much," says Red. "Of course, I knew him well too; he had sat in with me several times. Frank Strazzeri and I had worked together a lot, and Leon Petties came here from San Diego, like Harold, and had been jobbing with Harold's quartet. I had known Leon since he sat in with me in 1956, when I was with Hamp Hawes' Trio; in fact, I had tried to get Hamp to hire him."

The five musicians began rehearsing in the summer of 1961. All but Petties doubled as writers, and all five had identical feelings concerning the group's objectives and musical potential.

"There has been so little of this kind of music organized out here," Red points out. "Curtis had a fine group, but it didn't last too long. We realized, too, that forming a group like this in Los Angeles and trying to keep it together was not the easiest thing in the world."

Despite the evident handicaps, the men were unflaggingly cooperative in making- rehearsals. All made sacrifices of one kind or another to keep the group intact. (On one occasion, in order not to miss a rehearsal, Red turned down a gig that would have meant a whole TV series for him.)

The basic sound of the Mitchell-Land group is one that the musicians find elusive of verbalization. "Hard" is an adjective that has been applied too often lately to any brand of jazz with a substantial degree of aggressiveness; the implication that hardness involves harshness seems to invalidate the use of the term here. It is more relevantly a jubilant, sinewy, cohesive sound, in which the key factors are self-confidence and the kind of group feeling that can only stem from musicians who have been working together and listening to one another closely over an extended period.

Fortunately the opportunities for the quintet, though limited by their geographical situation, have exceeded their original expectations. In addition to stretching out for several weeks at Los Angeles' Town Hill club, they have worked every Monday at Shelly's Manne Hole for several months, played weekend concerts at Le Grand Theatre, and have gigged at the Renaissance and other local spots. With the release of this album they plan to make their first joint trip East.

It is a healthy sign that a group of this type has been able to get going in Southern California. After having lived out here for a year, this writer can attest to the frustrations that beset Los Angeles jazzmen whose ambitions are analogous with those of, say, a Blakey or Silver or Adderley in New York. Removed by thousands of miles not only from the principal jazz clubs but also from the booking agencies' headquarters, most of the record companies, and many of the influential jazz critics, the musicians in Los Angeles are sometimes tempted to become bitter as they see extensive publicity and work opportunities falling in the path of other groups, whose musical value may be equal to their own but is certainly not so far superior as to justify the great disparity in recognition.

Had the above-mentioned New York groups been stationed in Los Angeles during the past six or seven years while Red, Harold & Co. were transplanted to New York, it is entirely possible that jazz history might have been written a little differently.

Although I have stressed the importance of the group's overall sound, obviously no combo that relies heavily on improvisation can be any stronger than its weakest solo link. The steel links in this chain know no weaknesses; all ensemble considerations aside, this is, man for man, as strong an alliance of compatible talents as you will find on the scene today — and this does not just mean the California scene.

Harold Land, in the course of these sides, manages to communicate all the essential values of contemporary jazz: not merely the harmonic knowledge and technical virtuosity, but the obvious respect for basics, the understanding of the blues force in jazz, the emotional quality without which all his equipment would be earth-bound. He is a modernist whose respect for tradition and traditionalists has prevented him from transgressing beyond the true orbit of this music. The influences are clear from time to time — Coleman Hawkins, whose Body And Soul, played a large part in forming his love of the instrument; Lucky Thompson, whose warmth of sound and fluency of style impressed him a few years later; and of course Charlie Parker, whose soul was Bird's legacy to a whole generation. Above and beyond the influences, Harold is vitally and consistently himself, both as instrumentalist and composer.

Red Mitchell, whether playing arco (as in his solo during the title number) or in the round, clear pizzicato that has made him the most consistently respected bassist of the past decade, remains the most supple and subtle of artists. He takes pride in his work, in his associates, in his remarkable bass fiddle with its big sound, and in the compositions he has contributed to the books. Rosie's Spirit, named for his wife, is an energizing up-tempo sample of his writing,

Carmell Jones is the most recent Californian of the five. Born in 1936 in Kansas City, Kansas, he took up trumpet at 11, studied locally, went to the University of Kansas for two years and moved to Los Angeles in August 1960. Originally influenced by Miles Davis, and for a while by Chet Baker, he was traumatically impressed by a Clifford Brown record; it is clear from the lyrical timbre and the Brownie-like touches in much of his phrasing that he remembers Clifford very well. Samara, a slow and beguiling minor theme, is an admirable example of his promising work as a composer.

Born in Rochester, N. Y., where he studied at the Eastman School of Music, Frank Strazzeri lived in New Orleans and Las Vegas before moving to Hollywood early in 1960. He names Teddy Wilson and Bud Powell as early influences, Al Haig and Hank Jones as overall preferences. Trained empirically in every phase of jazz — he has worked in Dixieland bands as well as with Sweets Edison, Kenny Dorham and Conte Candoli — Frank has developed amazingly in the past year. He might be called a West Coast equivalent of McCoy Tyner or Wynton Kelly in terms of fluidity, technique and imagination.

Leon Petties, since he moved to L.A. from San Diego, has gigged with Buddy Collette, and worked with Shorty Rogers a few times when Shorty took over Harold's quartet en masse for a series of engagements. Petties is admired by his colleagues in the quintet for his steady time, taste and consistency.

These are the men of whom Tynan reported: "They are the happiest jazz news to sing out on the coast in years." The key word is "happiest." If you are among those who have expressed alarm at the neurotic trend in modern jazz, and are looking for a group that is fresh, vital, integrated (in both senses of the word), you will find the joyous answer in the Mitchell-Land Quintet.”

LEONARD FEATHER

The Sal Nistico Quartet Live at Carmelo's 1981

© -Steven Cerra, copyright protected; all rights reserved.

Coming of age as a working Jazz drummer in the late 1950s, I was very fortunate to live in the eastern San Fernando Valley, an area north of the city of Los Angeles with the largest population in Los Angeles county.

My home was a short drive away from Warner Brothers and Universal Studios via surface streets and a short drive away via freeway from the recording studios and Jazz clubs in Hollywood including Jazz City, Shelly’s Manne Hole and the It club.

Because of these proximities, the San Fernando Valley became a haven for working studio musicians who played Jazz at night and the area soon developed its own Jazz clubs such as The Baked Potato on Cahuenga Blvd, Donte’s on Lankershim Blvd. in North Hollywood, La Vie Lee, The Times and a host of other small clubs on Ventura Blvd [the portion of Route 66 that comes into Los Angeles] and King Arthur’s in Canoga Park [aka the West Valley].

One of my favorites was Carmelo’s which was located “in the heart of the Valley” on Van Nuys Blvd. and few blocks north of Ventura Blvd. I was particularly fond of it because the Bob Florence Big Band played there quite often.

This trip down memory lane was sparked by the recent release by Jordi Pujol and his fine team at Fresh Sounds Records of a double CD entitled Sal Nistico Quartet Live at Carmelo’s 1981 [FSR -CD -941] on which the tenor saxophonist is joined by pianist Frank Strazzeri, bassist Frank De La Rosa and drummer John Dentz.

Jordi Pujol wrote his usual insightful and informative insert notes to accompany the thirteen [13] tracks of music on this two disc set and we thought we’d present them to you “as is” because we could hardly improve on them.

About Carmelo's

Carmelo Piscitello opened his restaurant Carmelo's around 1960. He was a former barber, and accordionist, who envisioned having the best Italian food in Sherman Oaks, Los Angeles. It was a neighborhood restaurant, until in June 1979, Carmelo's brother Chuck — a professional musician described by disc jockey Chuck Niles as "a swinging little bebop drummer"— persuaded him to start offering jazz. The club was intimate, seating no more than a hundred patrons; it operated seven nights a week, and soon became popular. Chuck Piscitello booked the acts with name performers such as saxophonist Stan Getz, Harry Edison, Bob Brookmeyer, Don Menza, Terry Gibbs, blues singer Jimmy Witherspoon, singer Carmen McRae, the big bands of Louis Bellson, Bob Florence, Bill Berry, and jazz organist Jimmy Smith. In June 1982, the brothers acquired the space adjoining their restaurant, and by knocking out a wall they were able to double their audience. Don Menza — one of the regular name performers of the original Carmelo's — recalls: "The jazz club was enlarged (unfortunately) and lost the real intimacy of a true jazz club."

In September 1983, after Chuck Piscitello died of a heart condition, the club entered a phase of decline, and almost closed due to disagreements between the Piscitello family, and various technical difficulties that led to serious delays and financial problems. It was then, that Ruth and Del Hoover bought the club. Previously the Hoovers also operated a smaller nitery, Stevie G's, in nearby Studio City. For two years they tried to keep Carmelo's jazz policy, but business was slow. And Ruth said she found the financial odds were against her. "The trouble is, so many of the performers charge such high fees," she said. "We just can't afford to book them in a relatively small room." The opinion of Don Menza disregards what Ruth said: "I don't know what Ruth was talking about paying us too much. We got basic low pay and we all did it."

The scarcity of financial resources put Carmelo's, a popular jazz club for almost six years and a restaurant for more than 20, on the verge of extinction. In March 1985, "out of the blue" the Hoovers sold the club to the veteran singer and businessman Herb Jeffries. The local jazz community expected Jeffries would be able to return the Sherman Oaks club to its halcyon days as one of the most popular restaurants and clubs that featured jazz in the San Fernando Valley.

However, the expectations that jazz fans had were truncated when, a few months later, in 1986, Jeffries changed the name of the club to Flamingo Music Center. "We don't want to be known as a jazz club. Sure we have jazz," he said, "but we've had rock bands in here; pop; Steve Allen, who does comedy, and opera on Sunday nights." Carey Leverette, owner of North Hollywood's Donte's (for almost two decades perhaps the Valley's premier jazz club), conceded that Jeffries' switch to varied musical entertainment was a sign of the times.

"He's not the only one. Everybody else is doing it," Leverette said. "If it works for him, good for him. I'm sorry to see that jazz is not the premier commodity that it really is in the eyes of the public. When you can get a guy like Prince making $18 million a year and some of the greatest jazz players can't even get a gig — something's wrong there."

Don Menza pointed out how he felt after the club's expansion "I played a few times in the bigger club and it never felt the same. Chuck died shortly after the enlargement, and that was really the end of the jazz community helping out. We did not support the "show biz" part of Ruth or Jeffries' idea of jazz. There were a few who did, but in general the real players felt that Chuck had been betrayed. It was a bad time for all who loved Chuck. The end of an era — too bad."

About Sal Nistico

Tenor saxophonist Sal Nistico is mostly remembered for his years as one of the main soloists in Woody Herman's band. The fact is, more outstanding tenor saxophone soloists have roamed with the Herds of Woody Herman than with perhaps any other band in jazz. Among those great names who have worked or recorded with the band were Allen Eager, Stan Getz, Zoot Sims, Ben Webster, Paul Gonsalves, Al Cohn, Flip Phillips, Jimmy Giuffre, Phil Urso, Richie Kamuca, Bill Perkins, Gene Ammons, Jerry Coker, Don Lanphere, and our man: Sal Nistico.

He was born on April 2, 1938, in Syracuse, N.Y. He had an early inclination for jazz. "There used to be a lot of records around the house", he said, "and I listened to a lot of them and always wanted to play something. So, in grade school, I asked them for a trumpet. They said they had enough trumpet players and handed me an old beat-up alto. So I tried to learn to play that. They didn't think I was going to be able to play anything, though. They didn't see any promise whatsoever."

Some years later, Sal began listening to Jazz at the Philharmonic records and developed a liking for Illinois Jacquet and Charlie Parker, His first time playing jazz was with a high school combo, and reflected his listening preferences. "We played things like Anthropology at school dances," he said.

"I was playing alto at the time. I picked up the tenor at 16 and dug it immediately.

So, I went out on the road—playing with anybody I could, from rhythm and blues to strictly entertainment-type groups." At 19, his prior acquaintance with trumpeter Chuck and pianist Gap Mangione in Rochester, N.Y. led to his joining the Jazz Brothers, then a sextet, on tenor. "Up until then," Sal pointed out, "I couldn't play much more than blues, but Chuck and Gap were into all kinds of things— like  Serpent's   Tooth—and  I'd  listen. Later, I sat in with them and was hired."

He was a member of the Mangione Brothers for a couple of years. "The Brothers kept growing," Nistico recalled. "We had a chance to play every night and were really into it. Looking back on it, it really was a high point. Then, in 1962, I got the call to go out with Woody Herman. The band caught fire at the Metropole in New York and things started to happen from there." He joined that 1962 edition of the Herd which was deservedly a much-heralded outfit. The Herman "renaissance" led to Grammy awards and Woody was named one of Down Beat's jazzmen ol the year in 1963.

Nistico had what would be probably the longest tenure of any Herman tenorman, playing until 1971, even though his association with the band was not continuous — he had two stints with Count Basie (in 1964 and 1967) and a European sojourn with a small group in 1965 and 1966. But for most of the 60's, Nistico experienced the rewards of being a featured soloist with one of the most important jazz bands. Also, he experienced the frustrations and limitations of an improviser in a big band context.

He left Herman in the fall of 1971 to become a freelance soloist. In 1972 he joined the Slide Hampton orchestra that travelled to Italy in January. For a few years he played and recorded both in America and Europe with a variety of groups and orchestras led by Lionel Hampton, Buddy Rich, Buck Clayton, Francy Boland, Barone-Burghardt, Benny Bailey, Curtis Fuller, among others; he also recorded as a leader for the German label Ego. And although his career never really got off the ground, Nistico was always a player to reckon with.

In the summer of 1978, after spending almost three years in Europe, he returned to the US scene in top form, recording an excellent sextet album for the Chicago label Bee Hive.

In January 1981 he arrived in Los Angeles, where he would become a regular of the local jazz circuit in a short few months. There he met some old friends from his Rochester days, like Don Menza and Frank Strazzeri. In those days, Carmelo's in Sherman Oaks was one of the most popular Italian restaurants and jazz clubs on the Los Angeles scene. It was owned by the brothers Carmelo and Chuck Piscitello, and Menza and Strazzeri used to play there regularly.

Chuck, the younger brother, was in charge of hiring the bands. Trumpeter Bobby Shew, who also used to play at Carmelo's, recalls that "Chuck was also a pretty decent drummer but didn't get many opportunities to play, sadly."

When Chuck learned that Nistico was in town, he hired him to play at the club in January 22, 1981. For the date, Sal put together an ideal supportive rhythm team made up of the energetic driving piano of Frank Strazzeri, with bassist Frank De La Rosa, and drummer John Dentz.

Nistico's main influences were mainly in the straight-ahead bebop tradition mainly, but he also developed a great admiration for the early Sonny Rollins. As he pointed out, "Sonny Rollins has given me more pleasure than any musician alive. He's got a swing and swing's a medicine. If you're sick, it'll make you feel better — I firmly believe that." He makes his roots clear in these live recordings, with a redoubtable spirit, no tricks and few concessions to more modern stylings, a demeanor that surely added to his reputation a musical heavyweight among his peers. And the quartet setting allowed him the space to play inspiring, emotionally-charged music — qualities to which the at-home ambiance of Carmelo's was very conducive.

He's playing was a pure joy — blisteringly hot and imaginative at up-tempos, and equally eloquent and compelling on mid-tempos and ballads. To start the first set, Nistico picked up a buoyant up-tempo new composition titled Backlog, which he wrote for this gig. After stating the theme in unison with the piano Sal was off and flying with stunning fluidity, injecting emotional intensity and depth into the music, racing over the straight-time walking bass figures of Frank De la Rosa, the stunning fluency of Strazzeri and the restrained power of John Dentz. His solo on Lester Leaps In is a superlative, flawless, swinging, Lester-guided tenor, harmonically rich and rhythmically loose, a string of inventive, winding choruses in logical succession.

On How Deep Is the Ocean he projects his powerful rhythmic attack, and the choruses that tumble out with exuberant, driving lyricism and a limitless supply of inventive energy. A sign that Nistico was a gifted musician was his ability to infuse an old Dixieland evergreen like Sweet Georgia Brown with new vitality, startling twists of perspective, and fresh emotional zing.

He also demonstrates an obvious affinity for a standard like You Stepped Out of a Dream, making it sound as fresh and vibrant as new tune. His invigorating solo is surging and full-bodied, played at a feverish pace, never letting up and moving continually into new areas of exploration. On Equinox. Sal did inject mild Coltrane-sounding tonal nuances into his playing, and they added an extra spice to a demanding performance. Strazzeri gave an excellent and moving solo. Bass and drums play with confidence, especially Dentz, who was outstanding in catching the melody and molding rhythms for it.

Frank Strazzeri, as had happened with Nistico, was a pianist who obtained the recognition of his professional colleagues, rather than the jazz fans. Strazzeri, was a devoted jazz musician who gathered his various influences, among them Bud Powell, Horace Silver, Carl Perkins, and Hank Jones, into an exciting, cliche-free, readily identifiable personal expression. His improvised lines were consistently exciting, inventive and uncluttered, and delivered with a crisp, bright sound in medium and fast tempos. It's worth paying attention to Frank Strazzeri's solo piano rendition of Johnny Mandel's ballad Close Enough for Love, staying respectfully close to the melody, infusing it with charm and feeling with a delicate, controlled touch.

Strazzeri was a fine and prolific composer as well, and Opals was one of his memorable compositions. A melodically meaningful tune, on which Nistico emerges as a more thoughtful and lyrical soloist. This melodic quality is accentuated by his warm roundish sound. That aspect of Nistico is also heard on the groovy bossa nova Pensativa, where his approach is a relaxed, whimsical exploration of the melody, but with a highly lyrical feeling.

Chuck Piscitello, "II Padrone" as Sal announces him at the end of the tune, sat on the drums for Dentz in Hank Mobley's Funk in a Deep Freeze, a mellow neo-bop tune, delivered by the tenor with tempered energy and mature musicality. There is also a palpable feeling of joy in the whole improvisatory process of Strazzeri's solo, proving him to be a consistent source of inspired playing.

On Cedar Walton's Bolivia, Nistico displays imaginative variations from the tune's prime melodic, harmonic and rhythmic elements with commanding authority

Although the vigorous tenor of Sal Nistico is the dominant, leading force throughout, Frank Strazzeri infuses the set with his amazing grasp of harmony, and the two principal aspects of his style: single note line passages alternating with contrasted sequences in chords. Nevertheless, his rather depressive personality, and lack of recognition sometimes made him underestimate his own talent, an opinion not shared by those who had the opportunity to be on stage with him, including Art Pepper, Stan Getz, Chet Baker, Frank Rosolino, Terry Gibbs, Don Menza, Bill Perkins, or Bobby Shew, among many others. The latter talked enthusiastically about Strazzeri: "a giant, a master, an incredibly underrated player, a complete genius."

This gig at Carmelo's was a totally enjoyable musical event. You can hear it in the warm response of the audience. All the jazz fans who have overlooked Sal Nistico (1938-1991) — perhaps because so many great tenor soloists came out of his generation — these previously unreleased recordings are sure to be an eye-opener, pleasing old fans, and reaching younger listeners who will appreciate his powerful sound and style.”

• Jordi Pujol

Recorded on stage by Don Menza

Mastered by Pieter De Wagter

Produced for CD release by Jordi Pujol

C & ®2017 by Fresh Sound Records