"Mel Lewis: The View from the Back of the Band" - The Chris Smith Biography [From the Archives]

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

“Mel showed me at that time, what a drummer is capable of doing as far as being integrated as an inescapable component of the arrangement as a whole. Not just something stuck in there at the last minute. You don't replace Mel Lewis, you just hope to get somebody who's like him — maybe.”

- Don Sebesky, trombonist, composer-arranger

“Well, it boils down to the fact that Mel played music on the drums. He absorbed what everyone in the band was doing and found things to play that complimented it. His time was so relaxed that sometimes he got in trouble for it. I remember one time; while we were playing with Terry Gibbs, hearing Al Porcino pounding his heel on the floor and saying, "Let's go Mel!" Because Mel was so easy that sometimes he would drag a little bit. But, to me it was a perfect solution to big band drumming.”

- Bill Holman, tenor saxophonist, big band leader, composer, arranger

“Mel never stopped speaking up for what he believed in and he always stayed true to his belief that jazz music should be swinging and innovative. Due in part to his unapologetic honesty his career wasn't filled with the fame and fortune that other drummers achieved. Yet Mel stayed true to himself and developed artistically throughout his entire life, in turn leaving the world with a recorded legacy that is priceless.” [p. 105]

- Chris Smith, professional drummer, educator author of Mel Lewis: The View from the Back of the Band

"My whole approach to playing is reaction. I don't listen to myself play. I'm too busy listening to everything going on around me. All my body is doing is reacting to that. I augment, compliment, round out. I can make anybody sound good. I have my own style, but I play uniquely with everyone that I play with ... Sometimes I'm forcing things, making things happen another way, but I'm still reacting to everything I hear. The composition I'm creating as I play in a big band is also because of what I'm hearing ... Everything depends on your ears. If I'm busy listening to me, then I'm not hearing the rest of the band. When the band is playing as an ensemble, I'm part of that ensemble."

— Mel Lewis, clinic in Hilversum, Netherlands 1985

Early in his career, some Jazz critics dismissed Mel Lewis as a drummer with “no chops” [little technique] who played behind the beat. But as Chris Smith points out in his masterfully comprehensive biography of Mel is that - “What makes the critics' under-appreciation of Mel so incorrect is what most every musician and many listeners know: that while a band can play poorly with a great drummer, no band can be great without one.”

When you finish reading Chris’ Mel Lewis: The View from the Back of the Band - The Life and Music of Mel Lewis [Denton, TX: University of North Texas Press, 2014], there will be no doubt in your mind - nor should there be - that Mel Lewis was one of the greatest Jazz drummers who ever lived [1929-1990].

He ranks right up there with Baby Dodds, Zutty Singleton, Gene Krupa, Chick Webb, Buddy Rich, Davy Tough, Sid Catlett, Kenny Clarke, Max Roach, Shelly Manne, Louie Bellson, Joe Morello, Philly Joe Jones, Elvin Jones, Tony Williams, Jack DeJohnette and any other “signature drummer” in the history of the music. [“Signature drummer” was Buddy Rich’s term for a drummer whose style was instantly recognizable and distinctive from other drummers].

As Gerry Mulligan once put it: “There’s still not a drummer who achieved what Mel Lewis did. And I’m not sure how to describe it.”

Maybe one answer is in the following remark that Mel made to Burt Korall the author of Drummin’ Men: The Heartbeat of Jazz - The Bebop Years:

“I found that to really make money you had to give up music. So I gave up money.”

For forty years, Mel Lewis made music in a widely diverse range of settings that included trios, small groups and big bands.

And what a collection of big bands: Tex Beneke, Boyd Raeburn, Alvino Ray, Ray Anthony, Stan Kenton, the Terry Gibbs Dream Band, Gerald Wilson, Gerry Mulligan’s Concert Jazz Band, the Thad Jones Mel Lewis Big Band and Mel Lewis and The Jazz Orchestra plus the many performances with various iterations of the WDR big band in Germany during the 1980s.

But Gerry’s point is well-taken, Mel’s footprint on Jazz is so huge - how do you describe it?

Until Chris Smith biography of Mel came along, Mel’s career was almost impossible to recount let alone describe. After reading it one is tempted to ask: Is there anyone that Mel didn’t play during a career that spanned four decades from  approximately 1950 to 1990?

Each time I started to prepare and outline for how I wanted to approach reviewing Chris Smith’s engaging biography of Mel Lewis, I’d read a little further in my notes to each chapter which then prompted me to rethink and rewrite the whole feature!

Chris’ book is much more than a mere biography of Mel, it imparts a great deal of knowledge and information about the broader Jazz World in the second half of the 20th century and Mel’s role in creating of lot of it that it could easily have been entitled Drum Wisdom and Jazz Revelations: The Life and Times of Mel Lewis [1929 - 1990].

Perhaps the easiest way to begin is with Mel Lewis’ own description of who he is and what he does: “Hi, my name is Mel Lewis and I play drums and cymbals.”

Or as it it specifically stated in Chris’ biography:

“You can say I am an old man, the kids can say "Oh what does he know he is from the old school." Man, I am not from the old school! I am a musician, and I play drums and cymbals. I use cymbals that are real cymbals. It’s like driving a good car as opposed to a piece of junk, you know. But man, once you really know how to play a drum, meaning you can play it, you know what it sounds like, and you can sit and create music on that drum, then you’ve achieved something. I don't mean play songs where you sit there playing backbeats and play a fill here and you do this there. I mean where you can actually make music on an instrument, then you'll know exactly what I am talking about.” [p. 105]

The significance of this remark is that while many drummers are apologists because of the bad rap they get for not being like other musicians [not being melody and harmony “sensitive”], Mel was proud of his instrument and the way he played it.  

Never one to downplay his own abilities, Mel took things a step further when he remarked:

"I am a unique drummer. I have a style that nobody else has. I make music happen. I make bands do things that no other band can do. Any time I've played, any band I've played in, that band has become mine. Now, I didn't do it on purpose... it just happened.” [p. 74]

What becomes apparent as you read through the 23 chapters of Chris’ biography is that Mel Lewis put a lot of thought into his approach to drumming, something you might not assume, because Mel was not a flashy or “technique drummer.

Here are some quotations that reflect how deeply Mel thought about his drumming:

• "My whole approach to playing is reaction. I don't listen to myself play. I'm too busy listening to everything going on around me. All my body is doing is reacting to that. I augment, compliment, round out. I can make anybody sound good. I have my own style, but I play uniquely with everyone that I play with. Sometimes I'm forcing things, making things happen another way, but I'm still reacting to everything I hear. The composition I'm creating as I play in a big band is also because of what I'm hearing ... Everything depends on your ears. If I'm busy listening to me, then I'm not hearing the rest of the band. When the band is playing as an ensemble, I'm part of that ensemble." —Mel Lewis, clinic in Hilversum, Netherlands 1985

• Strangely, in print interviews Mel often downplayed the influence Tiny had on his drumming. However, in an interview with Will Moyle, Mel clearly stated, "Tiny played so musically, he was a big influence on my playing. That great sound out of his bass drum and his constant motion. He used what we call 'Rub-a-Dub' feel, which I use too. That is what really makes a band move ahead and play inspired, it's that 'Rub-a-Dub'."

• [Mel was often credited with bringing a small group style of drumming into a big band setting]. “Now I am with a dance band again [Alvino Ray], but the funny bit is that bebop had completely taken me over by this time; I was really a bop drummer. And the small group thing was really coming into my head now, this way of playing. But I wasn't thinking about it that way, I didn't even realize what I was doing. I wasn't saying, "oh, I'm gonna play small group drums in a big band."

• “Good drummers were a rarity and that's all there was to it. There's no ego problem involved, it's just there weren't many good drummers. There still aren't.”

• “[During] his time with Kenton, Mel's softer dynamics and bebop-influenced style of big band drumming were a major influence on the band's sound. … After only a handful of times playing the [Kenton band’s] complex arrangements, he was beyond reading the chart and had already interpreted the music in his own style. Even at the young age of twenty-six, Mel had the ability to quickly memorize music and play in a way that uniquely suited each arrangement … .Mel’s light touch, bebop comping, and ability to support the ensemble without overplaying, began setting a new standard of big band drumming.” [Chris Smith]

• “It is worth noting that the sound of Mel's drums and cymbals on Art Pepper + Eleven: Modern Jazz Classics [arrangements by Marty Paich] is an excellent representation of his "typical sound" at the time. Mel's "sound" was a combination of many aspects, two of which were his use of calfskin drumheads and tuning his drums medium-low in pitch, even when playing in a small group. His drum sound on Modern Jazz Classics is a prime example of the warm tone he pulled out of the calfskin heads and how the sound of his drums blended into the ensemble, yet were tuned high enough to cut through when needed. Another important aspect of Mel's "sound" heard on the album is his use of low-pitched cymbals and the master touch in which he played them. … Mel was physically relaxed when he played, creating so much intensity while making the whole process look effortless.” [Chris Smith]

• “Buddy [Rich] knew the melody so well he would play the melodies along with the band. That is where I disagreed with him. He forced the music to be played like a drummer, where my bit is I play it like the band is playing. That's where him and I are opposites in big band playing. But behind it, we have the same talent for hearing. This is what he liked about me and what I liked about him. In other words, what we liked about each other was the things neither one of us could do, the respect for each other’s signature.”

• “His cymbal colors and textures created a continually shifting sonic backdrop, and in typical Mel fashion, when it was time to swing his cymbal beat wrapped a comforting blanket of sound around the whole band. His bass drum and toms were used as both melodic voices and low register textures. Most importantly his drumming demonstrated that orchestration and patience were as powerful musical tools as chops and speed. … Mel often pushed intensity to new heights by moving from his main ride cymbal to his Chinese cymbal. At the point where other drummers may have added volume or overplayed, Mel elevated the music  by changing his cymbal sound and intensifying the texture.” [Chris Smith]

• "Playing from hand to hand and constantly moving the cymbal pattern, gets the feeling of straight ahead motion without getting into a rigid situation. The only thing that really has to keep going and stay rigid is the hi-hat. But you never think about your hi-hat, it just goes. But you keep moving your hands with different patterns while listening to the soloist and reacting to what they play." —Mel Lewis, clinic in Hilversum, Netherlands, 1985

• "I think drummers should create their own fills based on what they are hearing instead of the old standard fill before a dotted quarter... Drummers can create their own fills based on the music itself, based on what will follow or what proceeded.” —Mel Lewis, Modern Drummer, February 1985-

• "When playing figures with the ensemble, duplicate its effects: loud or soft, long or short. For short sound, strike the center of the snare drum; snap the hi-hats shut tightly) press the stick into the head of a torn) make a cross-stick shot. For a long sound, strike a cymbal; hit the bass drum) instantly snapping the beater back) snap the hi-hats in an open position and let them ring. Strike a tone and let the note sustain. Strike the off-center area of the snare drum (a semi-long sound). Never, unless it is called for, play a figure with just one sound (every note sounding alike). Each note has a different texture and requires varying treatment... Always sing the figure, either aloud or to yourself. This applies when studying the figure (before playing it) and at the moment of execution. And sing with the feeling and articulation of the horn. Then duplicate this feeling on the drum set. In this way you will get a better blend between the drums and the horns." —Mel Lewis, International Musician, 1961

What also becomes apparent through a close reading of Chris Smith’s Mel Lewis: The View from the Back of the Band  is how much other musicians appreciated Mel’s approach to drumming.

• “The thing that was so amazing about Mel was that he heard everything that was going on in the band. Mel would give it up for the band. In other words, he felt that he was not only a part of the rhythm section, but that he was a part of each section of the band. And depending on which section had the lead, whether it was a sax soli, a trombone soli, or the trumpets were leading the ensemble through the out chorus, Mel knew every part. Inside of what he did, as far as the overall sound of the drums, he would also accentuate things that other drummers would never hear. He would do it so subtly that you felt it more than you heard it. He was just so unique in his ability to be a total part of the orchestration. He never got in the way, and Mel never made the drums a prominent instrument in the band. His sound was always something that the band sat on top of, and he was the most supportive drummer that I have ever heard. For me, I have never heard anyone be so giving musically, as part of a big band. I don’t think he ever thought of himself as a drummer, I think he probably thought of himself as just a band member. But as it ended up, he was the band!” - Marvin Stamm, trumpet player

• “The Concert Jazz Band was my first chance to really get to know Mel and get to play music with him on a steady basis. I thought it was a hot rhythm section! I liked the sounds that he got out of his cymbals and I liked the general steam that he was able to turn on. You know it s funny, one time he told me, ‘I don't like to play what the brass section is playing, they got enough accent in their playing and they can do that on their own. If I play everything that they play they get lazy. We need to get them more up on the time. I like to play what the saxophone players are playing.’ And I thought that was a very interesting insight into his conception of playing.” - Bill Crow, bassist

• “When Mel Lewis was with the Terry Gibbs band, he did some of the best drumming I ever heard with that band. I'm not that free with compliments, but the band was so hot. It was the most perfect way of playing drums with that band. Mel's a marvelous drummer and totally individualistic. He doesn't sound like anybody else. That's the best thing you can say about anybody, and I said it.” - Buddy Rich, drummer and band leader

• “Through the years I played various gigs with Mel, everything from big band, to piano trio at Jazz clubs, to wedding gigs. He was always so relaxed when he played it looked like he was up there reading the paper! Mel's absolute first priority, no matter what, was the feel of the music. He knew that if it didn't feel good, neither the band nor the audience would like it. It didn't matter what you wanted to do harmonically, melodically, formally or any of that—if the music didn't start from a place of good feel, forget it! Trust your body, trust your instincts and let the music flow—it will be ok.” Peter Malinverni, pianist

• “Mel really knew how to hear what was right for the music. Like most good musicians, he had the ability to adapt to a situation and play what was appropriate in a very natural way. He really knew how to orchestrate. What I also loved so much about Mel was his ability to "shade" the time of the music. He knew when to get up on it, and he knew when to get back on it, depending on what was happening with the band. He knew how to "dig in the stirrups," or "pull back the reins," you know. He had an amazing ability to know how and when to do that. A real gift — Adam Nussbaum, drummer

• ”Mel was capable of contributing many things to an album, and he did it in ways that only he could do. His musical approach to drumming never forced people to play a certain way. He allowed people to play the way they play, and then he made his musical contribution while that was happening. —Jerry Dodgion, alto saxophonist

• “He really embodied the idea of being a team player, rather than drawing attention to himself. He tried to keep the small group feeling in the big band, and I think that he proved that great music could be made without making bold technical statements. I also think that he showed that it's really possible to play a wide range of music well over the course of a career. Even though he may have been "pigeon holed" as a certain type of player, he found a way to bring life to all kinds of musical situations.” —John Riley, drummer

• “Mel's wasn't an incredibly technical drummer, he kind of rumbled back there, but he could just explode with energy when the music called for it. He was the only drummer that I have ever played with that told me he had a specific cymbal for my sound. That really blew me away! He said, "Yeah I have a cymbal for George, I had a cymbal for Richard, and I have a cymbal for you."
• Mel and I once recorded these play-along albums for Ramon Ricker. After recording the whole day it was suggested that since everyone had settled in we go back and rerecord the very first song. The recording engineer said, "Should I playback the tempo of the first take?" And Mel said, "No I got it."
• So we recorded the song again and when we finished we listened back. The new version ended up being one second different than the original take! The song was six or seven minutes in length and the two recordings were done at least six hours apart. Everybody that was in the control booth kind of fell silent and looked at each other and said, "Wow that’s incredible!" Mel had a very unique internal clock; that was one of his gifts.” — Rufus Reid, bassist

• “Mel played to make everybody else in the band sound as good as possible. He did this by thinking of their phrasing and thinking like a horn player. He was totally unselfish; he always played what the band needed.” — Jeff Hamilton, drummer

• “Mel played very musical. All the drummers that have played with my band, after Mel left and the records came out, they sort of played the same licks that Mel played because it was almost like someone had written them out, they fit the music perfect! He was so musical.” - Terry Gibbs, vibraphonist and band leader

• “When Mel died, it was one of the biggest losses the music ever had. People all over the world suffered. And they'll never recover. We were sitting in Cologne, a key producer and I. We said, "Mel," and were silent for five minutes because there's no replacement. All of the bands, big and small, amateur and professional, that he made sound good have to feel a terrible, terrible loss. There will never be another like him. Mel was one of the greatest drummers of all. I'd stake my life on that.” - Bob Brookmeyer, valve trombonist, band leader, composer-arranger.

There are two other main themes that Chris Smith stresses over the course of the 23 chapters that make up Mel Lewis: The View from the Back of the Band are Mel’s development as a band leader which dated back to his time on Stan Kenton’s band when he observed: “‘Stan Kenton treated his musicians like gentlemen; and he knew how to draw the best out of you. He never told anybody how to play. And I thought that was very important,’ recalled Mel. The lessons Mel learned from Kenton deeply influenced the way he treated fellow musicians when he became a bandleader.”

The other primary theme that Chris Smith underscores in his biography was Mel’s efforts to help young drummers: “Much like the love he showed for the members of his band, Mel also extended his friendship, advice, and equipment to the young jazz drummers whom he thought showed promise. Drummer Adam Nussbaum recalled his relationship with Mel:

“I really got to know Mel when I was playing with John Scofield and Michael Moore at a club "Paissons" on West 72nd street in New York City; that was not too far from where Mel lived. He showed up to the gig and saw me playing with these cats. He kind of knew about me because I was playing with some of the guys in his band like Dennis Irwin, Dick Oatts, Joe Lovano, Jim McNeely, we were all buddies. At the time I had a set of walnut finish Gretsch drums, was using old K's, and had calfskin heads on my snare and bass drum. I guess he may have seen me as a younger version of himself; I also had red hair and was Jewish. After we said hello to each other, I said, "Hey Mel why don’t you come up and play a little bit." So Mel sat in and played a couple tunes with Scofield.

After the gig was done Mel said to me, "What are you doing tomorrow? I want you to come to my house tomorrow around noon, you free?" So I went over the next day, I ring the bell, and Mel said, "Wait for me in the lobby." So I waited for him in the lobby, and then we went down to the basement, to his storage place. When we got down there he took out a snare drum and floor torn. He said, "Here man, I want you to have these." I said, "What?" He goes, "Yeah man, these match your Gretsch drums | perfectly, they stole the rest from me and I am using Slingerland now, so you should have them." Just real matter of fact, it was just so sweet of him.

Mel didn't have a son, so I think he saw a bunch of us guys in New York—of the younger generation (Kenny Washington, Danny Gottlieb, Joey Baron, Peter Erskine, and others) whom he felt had some talent—kind of like his family. He was very supportive and encouraging to us, like a father. I would have to say that he is one of my musical fathers. We'd go out to eat, we'd go to his apartment and he would sit in his big chair and play recordings that he played on. I'd bring up things that I played on. We'd listen and we'd talk. We spent time just hanging out; not necessarily talking about drums per say just talking about music and life. He watched out for the guys that he cared about. If Mel cared about you and liked you, he really took to you.”

The book concludes with over 50 pages of drum transcriptions and annotated listening guides for examples of Mel on records, a timeline of the drum equipment that Mel played on over the course of his career and a selected discography.

One couldn’t ask for a better retrospective of Mel’s career and assessment of its significance in the history of Jazz than the one that Chris Smith has researched, compiled and written for Mel Lewis: The View from the Back of the Band -The Life and Music of Mel Lewis.

Mel was so deserving of the respect that Chris’ biography puts forth in his definitive study and we are fortunate to have Chris’ outstanding treatment of this singular musician. Along with Helene LaFaro Fernandez’s biography of her brother Scott LaFaro and Michael Sparke’s biography of Stan Kenton, it assumes its honored place in the University of North Texas Lives of Musicians series.

You can locate order information about the book via this link.

Mel Lewis, Terry Gibbs and The Dream Band

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

Due to his huge presence on the New York Jazz scene beginning around 1960 with Gerry Mulligan’s Concert Jazz Band and following with his long association with the big band he co-led with trumpeter and arranger Thad Jones which then culminated as the leader of his own big band until his death in 1990, many Jazz fans are less familiar with Mel Lewis’ development as a big band drummer from 1948 - 1958.

These formative years found Mel evolving his own style of big band drumming while occupying the drum chair for bands led by Boyd Raeburn, Ray Anthony, Tex Beneke, Stan Kenton and Bill Holman.

But perhaps the most important stint where it all came together for Mel behind the big band kit were the three years he spent in Hollywood driving what has come to be known as The Dream Band led by vibraphonist Terry Gibbs.

With each chair in the band occupied by a member of the Los Angeles studio elite and arrangements by a Who’s Who of orchestrators including Bill Holman, Al Cohn, Marty Paich, Bob Brookmeyer, Manny Albam, Shorty Rogers, Sy Johnson, Med Flory and Lennie Niehaus, Mel was surrounded by a bevy of swingas and cookers and he made sure that “all the pots were on” by booting things along from the Dream Band’s drum chair. [BTW - during its existence from circa 1958-1962, Terry’s orchestra was not referred to as “The Dream Band.” This appellation was given to it in retrospect.]

Because of the studio commitments of the band’s personnel, the band met in Hollywood locations on the “off night” [usually Mondays and/or Tuesdays] and because owners and waitresses who were tolerant of aspiring, young Jazz musicians like myself [I never knew I could nurse one Coca Cola for so long!] this allowed me to take a ringside seat and watch and listen to the clinic in big band Jazz that Terry and the boys in the band conducted on each tune they played.

Tune after tune, the band’s driving performances left you breathless and exhilarated. Mel’s hands moved almost invisibly across the drums, dropping bombs, crashing cymbals and putting in fills and kicks, all of which served to drive the band forward irresistibly and irrepressibly. 

The man was the personification of swing.

I didn’t realize it at the time, but Mel was being scouted by Bob Brookmeyer and Gerry Mulligan as the latter was in the conceptual stages of what would become his Concert Jazz Band [CJB].

Gerry went to The Left Coast in the late 1950s appearing in some movies and Brookmeyer, when not arranging for the Dream Band, also had other musical and personal reasons to be out among the southern California palm trees. And they both caught Terry’s Dream Band and focused on Mel’s distinctive big band drumming.

When the CJB first got going, Larry Bunker would dep for Mel in the drum chair while he was in New York and when Mel would fly back to The Left Coast, not only was he playing once again with Terry’s big band but he also became the drummer in Gerald Wilson’s fledgling big band as can be heard on that band’s initial recordings for the Pacific Jazz label.

Every big band wanted Mel behind the drum kit.

Chad Smith describes Mel's association with Terry and what would come to be known as The Dream Band in his The View from the Back of the Band: The Life and Music of Mel Lewis  biography on Mel.

“Terry Gibbs and The Tailor"

“Mel first met vibraphonist Terry Gibbs in 1948 while both men were living in New York City. Gibbs remembered his initial encounters with Mel:

‘Mel was with Tex Beneke, and he used to try to find me all the time because he loved Tiny Kahn's drumming. He knew that I grew up with Tiny, and had all of these things I could tell him about Tiny. So he would find me and we'd talk a little bit, but we never really got to know each other until I moved out to the West Coast.

When I moved out to the West Coast and wanted to start a band, that's when we got really tight. Mel was looking for a band to play with, and even though he had Bill Holman's rehearsal band and Med Flory's band, all they did was rehearse and my band ended up as a working band almost immediately.’

The two men first recorded together in September of 1957 on an album titled Jazz Band Ball—Second Set (Mode).2 It was during that session that Gibbs famously gave Mel his nickname, "The Tailor." Gibbs recalled the exact reason:

‘I named him "The Tailor!" He was funny because he would tell people that I named him the tailor because I said he was tailor-made for the drums, but that wasn't the case at all. I named him "The Tailor" because there was a little Jewish tailor in my Brooklyn neighborhood, who had bunions on his feet, and never lifted his feet when he walked. Well, Mel shuffled his feet when he walked too. So I nicknamed him "The Tailor," and it stuck with him.’

Gibbs and Mel recorded together again in November of 1958, resulting in the album Terry Gibbs: More Vibes on Velvet (EmArcy). While their first album together featured a small group, More Vibes on Velvet featured Gibbs accompanied by a rhythm section and full saxophone section. The arrangements by Pete Rugolo allowed Mel to showcase his small group playing behind the soloing of Gibbs, and also his ability to support the saxophone section throughout the written arrangements.

It was also during that fall that Gibbs decided to form a big band on the West Coast. Traditionally, Gibbs had recorded an annual big band album while living on the East Coast, and to continue the tradition he formed a new band in Los Angeles. In January of 1959 the Terry Gibbs Big Band rehearsed for the first time and prepared material for their upcoming recording in February. In addition to Mel on drums, Gibbs hired many of the best jazz players in Los Angeles including Conte Candoli, Frank Rosolino, Pete Jolly, and Joe Maini. It was through his new band that Gibbs accidently fell into the most successful era of his career. In a 1962 Down Beat article, Gibbs recalled the making of his West Coast big band:

‘A movie columnist friend of mine, named Eve Starr, called me one day in 1959. She told me about this club in Hollywood, a place called the Seville. She said the place was dying and the owner wanted to change the policy. He didn't really know whether he wanted jazz; he wanted anything that would bring customers into the joint. Eve suggested I go talk to him. His name was Harry Schiller.

Initially Gibbs signed a contract with Schiller to play the Seville with his quartet. Gibbs's quartet had always been his most commercially successful group and was the main source of his income. It was only because of his love of big band music that Gibbs recorded his yearly big band album. Journalist John Tynan explained the situation in a 1962 Down Beat article titled "Vamp Till Ready—Terry Gibbs' Big Band":

‘It was a nice musical arrangement for Gibbs; he could record and work nightclubs with his quartet, commanding top money, and then, for kicks, he could cut loose and indulge his real love for big band jazz.’

Shortly after he signed his quartet contract with the Seville, Gibbs ran into a major hurdle with his upcoming big band recording. The Los Angeles Musicians Union rules prohibited any unpaid rehearsals for a recording, but permitted a band to rehearse unpaid for a nightclub job. This meant that Gibbs couldn't rehearse for the recording, unless they were also rehearsing for an upcoming gig. Gibbs would have loved to pay the musicians for the

rehearsals, but that was not financially possible. This left him with only one option; get the big band a gig:

‘I made Schiller a proposition, I asked him if he'd let me take the big band into the club on Tuesday night only for the same amount of money as the quartet was getting. Schiller said it was okay with him if the quartet did business. If the quartet brought in some customers, he said, he didn't care if I brought in a band of apes on Tuesday. So we were set.’

With the Tuesday night confirmed, Gibbs began preparing for the big band's opening night. He made a guest appearance on the Steve Allen Show to promote his new big band and their upcoming Seville performance. In addition to the publicity from Steve Allen, word of mouth quickly spread that the band's show on Tuesday night was going to be one of the best jazz events of the year. By 1959, big bands, especially in Los Angeles, were not popular entertainment and did not even gain much attention from the music community. The Los Angeles big bands of Bill Holman and Med Flory were the most popular amongst musicians, but both were mainly rehearsal bands that released studio albums every year but did not perform live on a consistent basis. Mel played drums in both Holman's and Flory's bands during 1958 and 1959, but according to Gibbs, Mel really missed having the opportunity to play a steady live gig with a big band.

While excitement for the band's debut was mounting, no one knew if the band would attract much of a crowd. But to Gibbs and the other members, it didn't really matter. They hoped to draw a crowd, but in reality they were still just rehearsing for their upcoming studio recording. They didn't have their sights set on being a steady working big band, but after opening night at the Seville their plans quickly changed.

Opening night was a huge success and bigger than Gibbs or anyone could have ever imagined. In the packed club sat not only lovers of big band music, but also a remarkable mix of musicians and celebrities. By the end of the evening, Gibbs and Schiller decided that the group would perform again at the club the next Tuesday. The turnout for the band's second week was just as successful as the first, and Gibbs found himself, and his band, the hottest event in Los Angeles:

‘The gigs were like a party. It was like a freak thing, and all of a sudden that band became the stars of Hollywood. You couldn't get in the club; there would be three hundred people packed inside, with a line full of movie stars waiting to get in. We were making fifteen dollars a night, the band was, and I was making nineteen dollars. Well, actually I made eleven dollars after I paid the band boy. See, we were making no money at all; we were just having fun. Everybody was so happy in that band because the music was so good. It didn't have anything to do with money, we just wanted to play that music together. We played twice a week most of the time, and sometimes we'd even play five days a week. The band was ecstatic because all the lead players in the band were the greatest lead players, but didn't have a place to play except in studios.’

As the band's popularity grew, composers and band members submitted their arrangements to Gibbs for use with the band. Bill Holman was playing tenor in the band and contributed several arrangements that he had previously recorded with his own group. As Holman noted, it was a great opportunity to have his arrangements played on a weekly basis to a large and enthusiastic audience:

‘I didn't have a band; the records I made I had gotten a band together specifically for that. So I didn't have a band of my own that I was trying to promote, so having my music performed by a band that was working was beneficial for me. It was no sacrifice on my part.’

On February 17 and 18, several weeks after their first engagement at the Seville, the band went into the studio to record their first album. Terry Gibbs and His Orchestra: Launching a New Sound in Music (Mercury) featured the arrangements of Bill Holman ("Stardust" and "Begin the Beguine"), Marty Paich ("Opus #l" and "I'm Getting Sentimental Over You"), Al Cohn ("Cotton Tail" and "Prelude to a Kiss"), Manny Albam ("Moten Swing" and "Jumpin' at the Woodside"), Bob Brookmeyer ("Let's Dance" and "Don't Be That Way"), and Med Flory ("Midnight Sun" and "Flying Home"). While the recording was well received by fans and critics, it was not a complete representation of the excitement that the band produced during their live performances.

The packed crowds followed the Terry Gibbs Big Band for a total of nine weeks at the Seville and three weeks after that at the Cloister Club. The band then found a steady home at the Sundown Club on Sunset Boulevard. The band performed every Sunday, Monday, and Tuesday there for eighteen months. During that time the venue was sold to a new owner and renamed the Summit. The band's incredible live run from 1959 through 1961 was one of the most successful and longest-running steady gigs of any big band after the swing era. More importantly, the gigs allowed Mel to play continually in a contemporary big band setting. When many other jazz drummers no longer played regularly with a big band, or performed the same material night after night, Mel had the opportunity to learn and perform new arrangements on a weekly basis, rapidly developing his concept of drumming within a big band.

It was the live performances of Terry Gibbs's Band in 1959, 1960, and 1961 that resulted in many of Mel's most well-known recordings. Gibbs knew that the band was at its peak during their live performances and that only a live recording would do his band justice. As a result, weeks after their debut at the Seville, Gibbs contacted Wally Heider about recording the band live.

In 1959, Heider was a mildly successful lawyer in Eugene, Oregon, who was more interested in his hobby of recording music than his law profession. (You may recall that Heider also recorded Mel with Kenton's Orchestra in November of 1956.) After speaking with Gibbs, Heider drove his customized U-Haul trailer of recording equipment to Los Angeles and began recording the band at the Seville for much of 1959. In 1960, the excitement of recording led Heider to quit his job as a lawyer and move to Los Angeles to pursue a career as a fulltime recording engineer.

Heider became one of the most famous recording engineers of all time. In addition to his long career recording jazz music, he eventually relocated to San Francisco and recorded legendary pop and rock musicians such as Jimi Hendrix, The Grateful Dead, Jefferson Airplane, and Santana. He is responsible for what was known as the "San Francisco Sound."

Throughout 1959, 1960 and 1961, Heider continued to record the Gibbs Big Band during their weekly gigs. At the Sundown/Summit Club, he improvised a control booth in a small back room where he operated all of the recording equipment without being able to see the band. His two-track, direct-to-tape masters had no EQ or post editing, but sounded absolutely incredible. The Exciting Terry Gibbs Big Band (Verve) and Explosion: Terry Gibbs and His Exciting Big Band (Mercury) were released in 1961 and evidence of Heider's ability to record the band hitting on all cylinders. Most importantly, the albums finally gave listeners throughout the country a chance to hear the band in a live setting.

In addition to the material on those albums, hours upon hours of Heider's recordings were not commercially released. Through the years these unreleased recordings became something of a legend in the jazz community. For twenty-six years, only the truly lucky heard them as they stayed in Gibbs's personal possession. It wasn't until 1986 that Gibbs finally began releasing the recordings on the Contemporary label. Contemporary released all six volumes on digital compact disc under the name "Terry Gibbs Dream Band." This was the first time that Gibbs's band was called anything except the "Terry Gibbs Big Band" or "Terry Gibbs and His Orchestra." Terry Gibbs Dream Band: Volume 1, Terry Gibbs Dream Band: Volume 2—The Sundown Sessions, Terry Gibbs Dream Band: Volume 3—Flying Home, and Terry Gibbs Dream Band: Volume 6—One More Time featured previously unreleased Heider recordings, many from the band's 1959 run at the Seville. By 1986 the LP versions of The Exciting Terry Gibbs Big Band and Explosion: Terry Gibbs and His Exciting Big Band had been out of print for nearly a quarter century and were reissued as Terry Gibbs Dream Band: Volume 4—Main Stem and Terry Gibbs Dream Band: Volume 5—The Big Cat.

The "Dream Band" recordings are a testament to the greatness of that band and feature some of Mel's finest drumming. In 1986, when asked about the release of Terry Gibbs Dream Band: Volume 1 Mel responded,

‘This recording brings back a memory of probably the best big band of its time. I was so proud to be a part of it. Everybody was a real jazz professional, and Terry evoked so much spirit. I think it was some of my best playing in my entire career also. I don't think there was ever a better band than this one, including my own. Different, but not better.’

Similar to Mel's recordings with Kenton, the "Dream Band" recordings display his ability to subtly take control of a band and make it his own. In a completely unselfish manner he was the greatest musical influence on Gibbs's band. Mel realized his influence:

‘I am a unique drummer. I have a style that nobody else has. I make music happen. I make bands do things that no other band can do. Any time I've played, any band I've played in, that band has become mine. Now, I didn't do it on purpose... it just happened.’

The Peripatetic Mel Lewis [From the Archives]

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

Drummers make or break big bands.

Along with the lead trumpet and first alto sax, drummers help guide the band through its arrangements.

The drummer also drives the band; provides it with the power, the force and the pulse that keeps the music flowing.

No big band drummer ever did the job better than Mel Lewis.

The editorial staff at JazzProfiles has featured Mel on these pages on a number of occasions and you can search out these pieces in the blog archives.

The following article by John Tynan, who, at the time he wrote it was the West Coast editor of Downbeat magazine, captures Mel at mid-career as he was making the transition from being based in Los Angeles where he performed with the big bands led by Stan Kenton Marty Paich, Terry Gibbs, Bill Holman, Shorty Rogers and Gerald Wilson before taking up residence in New York where he was to become a featured member of Gerry Mulligan’s Concert Jazz Band and then embarking on co-leading an orchestra with Thad Jones and ultimately leading his own big band.

I can think of no other drummer who has had such a rich and varied experience in a big band setting.

By JOHN TYNAN

“MEL (THE TAILOR) LEWIS has logged so many air miles since the end of 1960 he recently acquired a second sobriquet, Sky King.

The drummer's travels—all on business—have taken him virtually all over Western Europe and across the United States so many times he is thinking of publishing his own Atlas for Drummers.

In November, 1960, he made his second trip to Europe with the Gerry Mulligan Concert Jazz Band (his first was with Stan Kenton in March, 1956), and last November he flew the Atlantic a third time with the Dizzy Gillespie Quintet.

Between transoceanic jaunts, he commutes steadily to New York City from his Van Nuys, Calif., home for recording dates with a variety of bands. Touring the country on one-nighters is no novelty to him; his most recent tour was with the now inactive Mulligan band.

The Tailor, a nickname bestowed on Lewis by Terry Gibbs because, the whimsical vibist noted, "he walks like my tailor," has lived in southern California since shortly after he joined the Kenton Band in 1954.

He spent most of the ensuing 2l/2 years on the road with Kenton. By early 1957 he had decided to settle down in the San Fernando Valley, where he established his wife and two daughters. In spring of 1960 Lewis, who will be 33 in May, resigned a staff job with the American Broadcasting Co. Hollywood studio orchestra to join the Mulligan band.

In Hollywood recently, Lewis sat still long enough for a personal commentary on, among other subjects, including himself, the varied and changing styles of European jazz drummers since his first trip with Kenton six years ago, a tour that included England, France, West Germany, Italy, Denmark, Belgium, The Netherlands, Switzerland, and Sweden.

"That first 'time," Lewis recalled, "those drummers I heard included Allan Ganley, Tony Kinsey, Phil Seamen, Jack Parnell, and Kenny Clare. They all sounded to me like a combination of Buddy Rich and Don Lamond — and all wrapped up in technique. Technique for its own sake. Their playing was all tight, loud, and stiff. Very sad. Seamen was the only one who seemed to have any swing in his playing."

"But," he cautioned, "these are all good musicians capable of playing all kinds of jobs — big bands, small groups, shows, the whole thing.

"On the Continent I didn't hear anything of interest. The playing was all sloppy and stiff. And that includes Sweden."

Back on the Continent 4 1/2 years later for three weeks with the Mulligan band (England was not on this itinerary but he revisited the other countries), Lewis eagerly listened for improvements or new U.S. influences on European drummers. He found only disappointment.

"Things hadn't changed too much," he said. "They still sounded the same as before. I didn't hear one good rhythm section. In fact, the rhythm section accompanying Bud Powell in Paris was quite sad.

"The best thing I heard on that trip was a little drummer who played with George Gruntz' band in Switzerland." [Probably referring to Daniel Humair.]

The tour last November with Gillespie in a package also featuring the John Coltrane Quintet afforded Lewis an opportunity to hear British drummers in person once more. He discerned a marked improvement, he said.

"In England I was able to hear several drummers, mostly in the London area," he related. "This was in Ronnie Scott's club, which is a nice room with good atmosphere.

"I noticed immediately that things have loosened up considerably. Just as here in the U.S., the Philly Joe Jones influence has taken over, except for a few exceptions."

THE GILLESPIE - COLTRANE tour brought along a bonus for drum-conscious European listeners. In Lewis and in Coltrane's drummer, Elvin Jones, they could appreciate representatives of widely varying styles. Lewis with his emphasis on more orthodox rhythmic conception and concentration on laying down the time; Jones with his independent, individualistic innovations and rhythmic experimentation.

"Now that they've all had a chance to hear Elvin," Lewis mused, "I wonder what the British drummers  are doing since. Elvin is so fantastic, he  must have turned  them  all  around. There could — should — be only one of him!"

Turning his attention to this country, Lewis said, "Over here, you hardly hear anybody with a style of his own anymore. That's bad for the future. The one thing I'm extremely sorry about is, what has happened to the big-band drummer? There aren't any.

"Of course, there are really no big bands to serve as training grounds. But there's a great need for the big-band drummer — for recording purposes, for example—and he's become a rare commodity. Today, there are only five or six in the whole country." Reverting to his resignation from the ABC staff orchestra to join the Mulligan band, Lewis noted philosophically, "The security of it didn't mean that much on the job if I couldn't get to play. Then, along came Bob Brookmeyer who got me to come with Gerry's band. The decision really wasn't as difficult as you may think. I'd been working semi-regularly with Terry Gibbs' big band, but that was only maybe one night a week."

Between tours with Mulligan, Lewis played a lot with Gibbs. "This was very good experience for me," he declared. "The variety of music in both bands necessitated that I take a different approach with each one. And this has made a better drummer of me.

"Actually, the past year has been one of the most musically rewarding I've ever spent."

Capping 1961 for him came the four weeks with Dizzy Gillespie when the trumpeter's previous drummer, Chuck Lampkin, was recalled into the Army. Gillespie needed a new drummer in a hurry, a musician who could learn the quintet's not uncomplex book quickly. He called Lewis. "Fortunately, I was able to get the book down without too much trouble," Lewis said.

"Those four weeks," he said gratefully, "were worth a year in training. I learned so much from Diz."

Lewis returned from Europe to another steady job on a staff orchestra — at the National Broadcasting Co. Hollywood television studios.

"This gives me more time," he commented, "to put to good use all I've learned during the past few months." "That    is," he added cautiously, "whenever and wherever possible."

Will not steady studio work affect his jazz prowess adversely? Lewis denies this vigorously.

"Why should it?' he asked. "It seems to me that too many young drummers seem to believe this. I'll just say this to them  — and to anyone else who believes studio work hurts a jazz musician: "Studio work will hurt a man's jazz playing only if he lets it. Just look at Clark Terry!""                                

Source

Down Beat magazine

May 10 1962