"Stan Levey, Jazz Heavyweight: The Authorized Biography" [From the Archives]

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

"Stan Levey is without a doubt one of the greatest drummers ever and one of the founding fathers of modern music. Along with Klook, Max, and Art, there was Stan Levey, who learned directly from Dizzy when they were both living in Philadelphia, As a result, Stan contributed to this beautiful art form and played on some pivotal recordings. Jazz Heavyweight is fascinating!"

—Wallace Roney, Grammy Award-winning jazz trumpeter

"I think Jazz Heavyweight is a piece of jazz history that's very important to document. Stan is a link. His life is an amazing story and he was a lovely man. I was totally in awe of meeting him and the legacy that he carries.”

—Charlie Watts,, Rolling Stones drummer

"Stan Levey was the drummer every bebopper wanted in his rhythm section. And with good reason. Jazz Heavyweight illuminates his role as an ultimate insider and important player—musically and otherwise—during one of jazz history's most vital eras.”

—Don Heckman, International Review of Music

"Jazz Heavyweight embraces the life and times of a Renaissance man in a topsy turvy world, rich with personalities and celebrities. Having lived through some of this crazy world with Stan and my Dad, this biography really hit home. A must-read.”

—Frank Marshall, motion picture director and producer

"It has been my privilege to have known and worked with Stan Levey. Stan was one of the greatest drummers of our time. While reading this book I was reminded of the many facets of Stan, and it invoked several memories of our years working together in the early 1960s with Dizzy Gillespie. He truly had a strong sense of musicality and most importantly soul, which was evident in each and every performance.”

—Lalo Schifrin, Grammy Award-winning pianist and composer

"Stan Levey was a superb, yet underrated drummer on both the New York bebop scene and the West Coast milieu. Frank Hayde's engaging biography shines a welcome light on this remarkable percussionist and delivers choice stories, a great many in Levey's own voice, lending a deep credibility to this book.”

—Zan Stewart, ASCAP-Deems Taylor Award recipient

“The Charlie Parker and Dizzy Gillespie era of modern Jazz that Stan is associated with has been referred to as a time ‘when giants walked the earth.’  If so, both physically and creatively, Stan Levey was a Giant among giants.”

It’s not every day that you get to learn more about one of your earliest musical influences and enduring heroes.

Imagine my delight, then, when Jeffrey Goldman sent me a preview copy of Stan Levey, Jazz Heavyweight: The Authorized Biography by Frank R. Hayde and Charlie Watts. The book has an “On-sale-date” of March 15, 2016 and you can locate order information at www.santamonicapress.com. The book is also available through Amazon both in print and digital editions.

As Jeffrey’s media release explains:

“Stan Levey is one of the most influential drummers in the history of modern jazz. During his extraordinary career, the self-taught Levey played alongside a who's who of twentieth century jazz artists: Dizzy Gillespie, Charlie Parker, Miles Davis, Stan Getz, Coleman Hawkins, Art Tatum, Ben Webster, Dexter Gordon, Lester Young, Thelonious Monk, Benny Goodman, Woody Herman, Ella Fitzgerald ... the remarkable list goes on and on, and includes dozens of the most distinguished names in the annals of jazz and popular music.

Jazz Heavyweight follows Levey's prolific and colorful life, from his childhood days in rough-and-tumble North Philadelphia as the son of a boxing promoter and manager with ties to the mob, to his stint as a professional heavyweight boxer, to his first gig as a drummer for Dizzy Gillespie at the tender age of sixteen and his meteoric rise as one of the most sought-after sidemen in the world of bebop, to his membership in the Lighthouse All-Stars and his prominent role in the creation of West Coast Jazz.

Coinciding with his years anchoring the Lighthouse All-Stars, Levey recorded over two thousand tracks while doing session work with such, vocalists as Frank Sinatra, Ray Charles, and Barbara Streisand. Levey ended his music career as a prolific player on literally thousands of motion picture and television show soundtracks under the direction of legendary composers Lalo Schifrin, Henry Mancini, Nelson Riddle, and Andre Previn, among many others.

Jazz aficionados will relish Jazz Heavyweight for its new, never-before-published information about such hugely influential musicians as Parker, Gillespie, and Davis, while jazz neophytes will find a fast-paced, colorful encapsulation, of the entire history of modern jazz. This book is essential reading for anyone seeking an up-close-and-personal look at jazz in. the latter half of the twentieth century.”

I thought it might be fun to append an earlier blog feature on Stan as part of the review of the new book about him in order to add some personal dimensions to the story of a drummer, who along with Shelly Manne, Mel Lewis and Larry Bunker, was one of the predominant drummers on the West Coast Jazz Scene during its heyday in the 1950s.

Ironically, Stan’s style of playing drums was shaped by Max Roach who was, along with Kenny Clarke, Art Blakey and Philly Joe Jones, one of the mainstays of the East Coast Jazz scene during the same decade!

The concluding video features Stan with bassist Howard Rumsey’s Lighthouse All-Stars for which Stan was a mainstay from 1954-1960 The tune is tenor saxophonist Bob Cooper’s Jazz Invention. Joining Stan, Bob and Howard on this track are Conte Candoli, trumpet, Frank Rosolino, trombone, and Victor Feldman on vibes.

While you are reading all these deserving words of praise about Stan and his storied career I can’t emphasize enough the magnitude of his accomplishment. No one taught him how to create music at a consistently high artistic level in a wide variety of settings whether it be in big bands, or in small groups, or in backing vocalists. He did all of this primarily through his own desire to succeed.

The Charlie Parker and Dizzy Gillespie era of modern Jazz that Stan is associated with has been referred to as a time “when giants walked the earth.” If so, both physically and creatively, then Stan Levey was a Giant among giants.

“En fait, Stan a été influence par le jeu de Kenny Clarke sur la cymbal ride en accompagnement et par Max Roach pour les solos.”

- Georges Paczynski, Une Historie De La Batterie De Jazz, Vol. 2

“The art of jazz drumming has come a long way since the days of the bass drum player in the marching bands of ole New Orleans. Today we have come to expect a drummer to be an excellent technician, a well rounded percussionist, capable of improvising as well as any solo instrumentalist in any musical aggregation. It would take a very thick book to discuss the requirements of being a jazz drummer, and even then, it would be necessary to interpret the printed word through skins, sticks, cymbals, and mechanical contrivances in order to express yourself and your feeling for the music.

No doubt about it, drums and drummers are popular subjects; whether you're an avid jazz enthusiast or a bandleader, it is always interesting to hear and compare notes on the way different drummers play.”

-Howard Rumsey, Bassist and Jazz Club Operator

“You could set your watch to his time. It was one less thing for me to think about when I was playing.”

- Victor Feldman, Jazz pianist, vibraphonist and drummer

I initially learned to play Jazz drums by sitting just below where this picture was taken at The Lighthouse Cafe in Hermosa Beach, California and observing Stan Levey do it for almost two years.

Driving down to the club through the fog on Pacific Coast Highway, I couldn't wait to get there and here the thrill and excitement of Stan's drumming with bassist Howard Rumsey's [also pictured] Lighthouse All-Stars.

Stan Levey was my hero.

“Mechanical, my foot. You try playing his stuff and see how ‘mechanical’ it is.”

The late drummer, Stan Levey, is the fellow using the strong language [“foot” is substituted here for another part of the anatomy which was actually used by Stan in the quoted remark].

The context for Stan’s reply was his response to a statement that another drummer made about the playing of Max Roach to wit: “Oh, I don’t listen to Max much. He’s too mechanical.”

There is a reason why in his two volume Une Historie De La Batterie De Jazz, which won the 2000 Prix Charles Delauney, author Georges Paczynski follows his chapter on Max Roach with one on Stan Levey.

Stan adored Max.

Indeed, Paczynski subtitles his chapter on Stan :”Stan Levey le virtuose: à l'école de Max Roach.”

Stan was a gruff, no nonsense guy who, at one time, was a prize fighter. He left school at fourteen to make his way in the world, taught himself how to play drums, and did this well enough to be playing with Dizzy Gillespie in his hometown of Philadelphia at the age of sixteen.

Four years later, in 1945, he was working with Diz and Charlie Parker on 52nd Street along with Al Haig on piano and Ray Brown on bass.

Not a bad way to begin a career as a Jazz drummer before even reaching the age of twenty-one [21]!

The early 1940s was also about the time that Max Roach was coming up in the world of bebop and he and Stan were to become lifelong friends. As Howard Rumsey, Jazz bassist, who also was in charge of the music at the Lighthouse Café for many years, explains in his insert notes to Max and Stan’s Drummin’ The Blues:

“Ever since they first met on New York's famous 52nd Street in 1942, Max Roach and Stan Levey have felt intuitively that each was the other's personal preference. Their professional careers are closely paralleled, starting with almost four years on the "Street" with "Diz" and "Bird". In fact, Max was with Diz at the Onyx and Stan was across the street at the Spotlight with Bird when the modern period of jazz was officially born. Since then they have exchanged jobs many times with many great bands.”

Max would eventually recommend that Stan take his place with Howard Rumsey’s Lighthouse All-Stars at the famous 30 Pier Avenue Club in Hermosa Beach, CA and Stan stayed at the club from about 1955 to 1960.

Stan described his early years in the business this way to Gordon Jack in Fifties Jazz Talk, An Oral Perspective:

“I was completely self-taught because we couldn't afford a teacher, and that's why I play left-handed although I am right-handed; it just felt easier that way. I didn't learn to read really well until I joined Kenton's band in 1952, once again teaching myself. By the time I was doing studio work in the sixties and playing all the mallet instruments, I had become an accomplished reader. My first big influence was Chick Webb, who I saw with Ella when my father took me to the Earle Theater when I was about ten years old.” [p. 129]

And, about his first impressions of Max Roach’s drumming, Stan had this to say:

"The ferocity of the playing was new to me. I had never heard time split up like that. Max's playing had music within it. . . he changed the course of drumming." [p. 130]

I got to know Stan quite well during the last three years of his stint at The Lighthouse and I came to understand that he always had a chip on his shoulder about being self-taught.

Young drummers bugged him; they were always asking him technical questions about the instrument.

And because he couldn’t explain his answers in terminology or “drum speak,” he usually mumbled something and walked toward the back of the club.

What were you going to do, chase after him? The man was huge. He blocked out the sun.

Stan was never menacing or unkind in any way, he was just self-conscious about the fact that he didn’t have a studied background in the instrument.

Even though he was self-taught, Stan took the most difficult path to becoming a Jazz drummer.

By this I mean that he played everything open; he didn’t cheat or fudge. He didn’t press; didn’t finesse; didn’t adopt shortcuts.

Ironically, for someone who had never formally studied drums, he played them in a more “legit” way than most of the other Jazz drummers in the 1940s, 50s and 60s – many of whom were also self-taught.

To comprehend an open or “legit” sound, think of the crackling snare drums that almost sound like gunshots while listening to a Scottish Black Watch fife, bagpipe and drum corps or, most other drum and bugle corps.

Every drum stroke is sounded; nothing is muffled; nothing is pressed into the drums. Everything is struck. Art Blakey’s famous snare drum press roll would be unacceptable in such an environment.

To play in this manner, one’s hands need to be strong and they need to be fast.

Enter Stan Levey.

Enter Max Roach.

Although they came to their respective styles from different directions – Max had taken lessons - both approached drums the same way. Each relied on open strokes.

In Max’s case, because he had a sound grasp of the basic, drum rudiments and learned to cleverly combine them in a syncopated manner that particularly fit the Bebop style of Jazz, his playing could be described as a “mechanical” in the sense of structured or fundamental.

This is especially the case when Max’s solo style is compared to that of other bebop and hard bop drummers such as Roy Haynes, Art Blakey and Philly Joe Jones.

But Stan didn’t hear the looser and freer drumming of Blakey and Philly Joe when he was putting things together, he heard Max [and also Kenny Clarke, Sid Catlett, and Chick Webb].

And even though he didn’t know the technical names for them, he learned to play solos in a manner similar to Max’s “mechanical” or rudimental style.

I knew Stan to be a fiercely loyal person and a very competitive one.

When your hero and your friend is being “put down” or “disrespected,” isn’t it all the more reason to be defensive and perhaps curt with those implying such disapproval?

Stan knew that what Max was playing wasn’t easy to do. But to his everlasting credit, he broke it down and incorporated many elements of Roach’s approach into his own. And, he did it all by ear!

Stan didn’t like to solo. He loved to keep time. He referred to it as: “Doing my job back there.”

And “keep time” he did, with the best of them.

Louie Bellson once said: “Stan’s time is alive. It has a pulse that you can always feel.”

Ray Brown declared him to be – “A rock, and a magnificent one, at that.”

Ella Fitzgerald said: “He never strays and never gets in the way.”

Peggy Lee “loved the intensity [of his time-keeping].”

The other thing that Stan loved to do was keep time FAST!

Few could rival him, and this from a naturally right-handed guy who was playing an open, three stroke cymbal beat with his left hand!!

Some of the best recorded examples of Stan’s time-keeping speed can be found on the Bebop, Wee [Allen’s Alley] and Lover Come Back to Me tracks on Dizzy Gillespie’s For Musicians Only album [Verve 837-435-2].

''Is Seeing Believing?'' - Liebman, Ineke, Laginha, Cavalli, Pinheiro

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

In sending me a preview copy of the ''... CD Is Seeing Believing? by the Liebman/Ineke/Laginha/Cavalli/Pinheiro Quintet [Challenge - Daybreak DBCHR - 75224] drummer Eric Ineke explained that “ … the record was recorded in Portugal in 2014 and has an international character. We all know each other through the International Association of Schools of Jazz.”

Just to be clear at the outset, in addition to Dave Liebman on soprano and tenor saxophones and Eric on drums - both of whom have been stablemates for many years - the record features the talents of Ricardo Pinheiro on guitar, Mario Laginha on keyboards and Massimo Cavalli on bass.

The CD arrived recently and upon listening to it the following thoughts came to mind based around two themes - old and mature - which when combined form a reciprocal duality [think of “ying and yang” - opposites that are mutually inclusive].

In his insert notes, Dave Liebman states that:

“I remember when I took lessons with Charles Lloyd in the mid 1960s in his Greenwich Village apartment. One day out of the clear blue he said: "You'll spend the rest of your life editing."

A few years later when I played with Miles Davis, one night he said to me: "Stop before you're done!"

Like a lot of the little Zen-type phrases that the older jazz guys used to make points to the younger guys, it took me years to understand what they meant.

In this case these little words of advice all seemed to relate to one thing: how to say more with less. "Maturing as an artist"...."leaving more space between ideas"......"creating a good melody is worth everything"......"technique, though necessary should never obscure the musical point being developed".... etc.

It seemed that a valid goal for further developing as a player was to get to the heart of the matter and leave the unnecessary frills behind. I am not going to be so presumptuous as to suggest that I have found success in this way and suddenly achieved artistic maturity, but I do see progress in this regard.”

By way of contrast, there is a tendency among young Jazz players to use a lot of notes in their solos.

This inclination seems to be a part of the joys of first expression; the thrill of discovering that you can play an instrument and play it well.

Kind of like: “Look what I’ve found? Look what I can do? Isn’t this neat?”

Another reason why these young, Jazz musicians play so many notes is because they can.

They are young, indiscriminately so, and they want to play everything that rushes through their minds, getting it from their head into their hands almost instantly.

Their Jazz experience is all new and so wonderful; why be discerning when you can have it all?

If such abilities to “get around the instrument” were found in a young classical musician romping his or her way through one of Paganini’s Caprices, they would be celebrated as a phenomena and hailed as a prodigy.

Playing Paganini’s Caprices, Etudes, et al. does take remarkable technical skills, but in fairness, let’s remember that Paganini already wrote these pieces and the classical musician is executing them from memory.

In the case of the Jazz musician, playing complicated and complex improvisations requires that these be made up on the spot with an unstated preference being that anything that has been played before in the solo cannot be repeated.

But often times when a Jazz musician exhibits the facility to create multi-noted, rapidly played improvised solos, this is voted down and labeled as showboating or derided as technical grandstanding at the expense of playing with sincerity of feeling.

Such feats of technical artistry are greeted with precepts such as “It’s not what you play, but what you leave out” as though the young, Jazz performer not only has to resolve the momentary miracle of Jazz invention, but has to do so while solving a Zen koan at the same time [What is the sound of the un-played note or some such nonsense].

Youthful exuberance as contrasted with the artistic maturity that Dave Liebman suggests in his notes are not necessarily mutually exclusive. Both are part of the process of artistic growth and development which the Jazz musician undergoes over time.

In his notes, Dave goes on to say that - “This recording reflects this process as much as anything I have personally recorded in the past few years (and those who know me are aware of how much I record!). From the standards to the contrafacts to the originals the music that Massimo, Ricardo, Eric, Mario and I created is very lyrical, subdued, highly sophisticated and user-friendly.

Without going overboard, the music swings and feels good. What strikes me as well is the way we all kind of just naturally tuned into this vibe I am describing. Of course, the group's cumulative experience, coupled with the highly international status of the band (Mario and Ricardo from Portugal; Massimo from Italy; Eric from Netherlands and myself from New York) does point to a level of artistic maturity.

I am proud of how we constructed this together so quickly and smoothly. I think even your proverbial "grandmother" would enjoy this music. Thanks to the guys and all those who helped us put together this product.”

More artistic maturity is on hand in terms of the nine songs selected for the recording which include three of my favorite “old chestnuts:” [1] Old Folks, [2] Skylark and [3] I Remember You.

Gary Giddins in his definitive biography - Bing Crosby: A Pocketful of Dreams - The Early Years, 1903-1940 shared this background on Old Folks which Bing recorded in 1938:

“Matty Matlock arranged "Old Folks," a new song by Willard Robison, the master of pastoral ballads, whose folklike melodies and nostalgic images influenced Hoagy Carmichael and Johnny Mercer. After a deft four-bar intro by clarinet and brasses, Bing enters brightly, in utter control of the narrative lyric, as if the consonant-heavy words and tempo changes presented no difficulties whatsoever. He floats over the rhythm like a kite on a breeze. Bing's version helped establish the song as an unlikely yet durable jazz standard, with interpretations ranging from Jack Teagarden to Charlie Parker to Miles Davis.”

And in his seminal The Jazz Standards: A Guide to the Repertoire, Ted Gioia offers these observations about Old Folks and Willard Robison’s penchant for “... finding musical accompaniment to end-of-life musings:”

“Robison relied on a variety of lyricists for his songs, which were often marked by a lonesome world-weariness mixed with ample doses of nostalgia and smalltown Americana. …  Nowadays audiences will probably scratch their heads in befuddlement when the singer mentions that no one can remember whether Old Folks fought for the "blue or the gray." But the song retains its appeal and place in the standard repertoire, even as its references grow more and more outdated, largely due to its muted poignancy. …

Miles Davis's recording of Old Folks, from his 1961 project Someday My Prince Will Come, remains the most familiar jazz interpretation of this standard. … —this is one of Davis's most moving ballad performances, and as close as you will come to a definitive version of Old Folks.

And in the same work, Ted offers these insights into what makes the pathos in Skylark so compelling:

“If I had to rank jazz ballads on the emotional impact of their melodies, on their capability of sinking me into a sweet reverie, Hoagy Carmichael’s Skylark would be a contender for the top spot on the list. Carmichael had already proven 15 years earlier with Star Dust that he could construct a pop song from probing jazz phrases and still manage to generate a mega-hit. With Skylark he offered another telling example. The melody grows more daring as it develops. The motif in bar six is very much akin to what a jazz trumpeter might play, and the ensuing turnaround is not just a way of getting back to the beginning, as with so many songs, but a true extension of the melody, which pushes all the way to the end of the form.

The B theme is just as good as the A theme, and even more jazz-oriented. Commentators have suggested that Skylark, much like this composer's Star Dust, represented an attempt to capture the essence of 1920’s-era Bix Beiderbecke's improvising style in a song—and, in fact, Carmichael first developed the piece as part of his unrealized plans for a Broadway musical about Beiderbecke. But, to my ears, the bridge to Skylark reminds me of the manner in which a i94os-era Coleman Hawkins would solo on a ballad. Whatever the genesis, the end result of these various ingredients is an expression of feeling so natural and unforced that casual listeners won't notice the technical aspects, only the potent mood created by the finished song.

Johnny Mercer makes a substantial contribution with his words.”

There is also a Johnny Mercer connection to I Remember You which was penned by Victor Schertzinger for the 1941 movie The Fleet’s In as not only did Johnny write the lyrics for the tune he also directed the movie.

According to the Turner Classic Movie documentary Johnny Mercer: The Dream's On Me, Mercer wrote the song for Judy Garland, to express his strong infatuation with her. He gave it to her the day after she married David Rose.

In the capable hands veteran musicians such as Dave Liebman, Ricardo Pinheiro, Mario Laginha, Massimo Cavalli and Eric Ineke, there are now three more exceptional versions of these beautiful ballads.

Is Seeing Believing? [Challenge - Daybreak DBCHR - 75224] is available from Amazon as both an Mp3 download and as a CD and you can also purchase the disc on www.challengerecords.com. It’s a first rate recording that features the talents of professional musicians and Jazz educators who lead by example.

Jazz Humor - The Zoot Finster Series by George Crater

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

Jazz musicians love to laugh.

As bassist Bill Crow explains in the following excerpts from the Preface to his superb book Jazz Anecdotes:

“Jazz musicians are bound together by a rich and colorful history that lives in the music itself, remembered, recorded, created and re-created. In addition, we have stories about ourselves, stretching back to the beginnings of the music, that are told and retold; legends and laughter that remind us of who we are and where we are from.

Most jazz musicians are good laughers. If you want to play jazz for a living you either learn to laugh or you cry a lot. We don't laugh all the time; we have our low moments just like the rest of the world. But the pleasure of getting together to play the music we love seems to bring out our good humor….

The anecdotes we tell about each other seem to be the ones we like the best. They remind us of our individuality and our human nature. There is a wonderful variety of subjects: bandstand stories, road stories, jam-session stories, bandleader stories, tales about innocence and venality, serendipity and catastrophe.”

Jazz humor was such an important aspect of the music that for many years, Down Beat published George Crater’s humorous Out of My Head essays as a regular feature of the magazine.

Two of the most popular columns that George developed had to do with the legendary  -hep cat Zoot Finster.

I thought I’d share them with you in this feature.

OUT OF MY HEAD

George Crater Reviews Finster Jazz Landmark

Zoot Finster ••••••••••••••••••••••••

AT    SUN    VALLEY—Hipsville    3128:    Slolem

Soul; Ski for Two; Snow Use; Rudy's Sun Valley;

Frostbite   Bossa   Nova;   Frigid   Midget;    Original

No  Slope  Blues;   That   Cold  Gang  of Mine;   I'm

in the Mood for Gloves.

Personnel:    Finster,     tenor    saxophone;     Miles

Cosnat,    trumpet;     Gimp    Lymphly,    gorkaphone;

Humphrey    Nurturewurst,    trombone;    Milt    Orp,

marimba;    Strimp    Grech,    cello;    Rudell    Benge,

guitar;    Sticks   Berklee,   drums.

Rating: *   *   *   * 2/3

At Sun Valley unveils the new Zoot Finster Octet. If this album is any indication, this is a group that will go down in jazz history as the most significant jazz advance since Gunther Schuller gave Ornette Coleman a white plastic tuxedo. It is an unmitigated gas!

The entire group was in solid form, but there were several surprises. Orp, for example, lost his monogramed mallets (presented to him personally by J. Arthur Rank) en route to the set and was forced to borrow a pair of Berklee's brushes. Orp's comping on Midget (Benge's Gospel-ish melody) and Use (an up-tempo blues by Grech) was so frenetic that immediately after the set, he received an offer to pose in three Avedis Zildjian ads.

Nurturewurst, though only 19, plays his instrument cleanly and reminds one forcibly of the late Fletcher Mosby. His performances on tracks 2, 4, and 7 are highlighted by muted solos featuring his specially designed mute made from a Renault hubcap. His best outing, however, is to be found on Gang, on which he demonstrates his feeling for the material by deftly voicing the ensemble parts in 6/8 time, an interesting effect, since the rest of the group is playing in 5/4 at the time. Still, this minor mishap aside, these could have been some of the all-time ensemble passages.

Lymphly is bound to become a household name after the release of this album, which is another in the superlative series produced by Bob Piele, who is one of the few a&r men who understands artists of this rank.

A recent arrival on the jazz scene, Lymphly was discovered by miscellaneous-instrumentalist Cameron Lindsay Jr. while he was working in a razor-blade factory near Duluth. He masters the somewhat difficult gorkaphone (a cross between bassonium and ear flute) as a French chef masters a recipe. His tone on the unwieldy horn has a Far East tang, which is probably why he chooses to sprinkle his lines with bits of Buddhist music. His only fault, in this reviewer's eyes, is a tendency to forget the melody line, a lapse that explains his playing I'll Remember April on every track.

Finster's return to the jazz scene is significant in two respects, of course. First, it puts an end to the rumor that he had forsaken the music to become a freelance male cheerleader; and, second, it makes him the first big jazz name to do an outdoor concert in subzero weather. In fact, by the time the group had started to record the last track, it had become the first jazz act ever to play the blues while assuming that hue.

From the outset of the first track, it is obvious that Finster has something to say. Unlike his last LP, Jazz in a Rumble Seat, he allows himself more blowing space. On this set he blows with more fire and tenacity than at any other time in his professional career (which dates back to the early '40s when he co-led a revolutionary quintet with the immortal pitch-pipe virtuoso Slide Yarbow).

On Ski, Use, and Midget in particular, he is no less than brilliant, building chorus after chorus of incandescent, flaming spirals of notes, giving a slightly pink hue to his work. In the liner notes, surreptitiously written by a Down Beat editor, he is credited as saying that his new heavy tone is not derived from listening to Coleman Hawkins but, rather, from swabbing his horn with cholesterol before the set.

Among other things, this astonishing disc acquaints the listener with one important fact — Maxwell Thornton Finster has at last arrived.

Marking his return to the group after a year of writing jazz backgrounds for newsreels in Hollywood, trumpeter Cosnat puts to rest the belief that a long layoff produces rustiness. His horn is prominent throughout the entire album, and he gives evidence of his wry, pungent wit when he lets go with loud, shrill blasts during everyone else's solos.

His dazzling upper-register interplay with the static from the speakers is sure to make jazz history. Mark Step 1 of the comeback trail for Miles Cosnat a successful one.

Guitarist Benge, formerly with the Jazz Invaders, is making his initial appearance in public with the Finster group. In this setting he is fairly inconsistent. On Valley, for example, he constructs a moving solo for 16 bars and then stops to crack his knuckles for 32 more, while on Gang he cracks his knuckles throughout, providing a dramatic foil to his stomach rumblings. It's not unlike lumpy chocolate syrup flowing over sponge rubber.

Grech, brought out of retirement by Finster at the urging of jazz historian Arnold Horde, displays the amazing skill, technique, and virtuosity that made him a star with the East Bayonne Philharmonic Orchestra in 1917. Because of encroaching senility and the cold weather, he has a bit of trouble keeping time on the up-tempo numbers, but otherwise his solos are fresh, daring (dig the four-minute pause on Frost), and gratifying.

The unusual rhythm section of marimba, guitar, cello, and drums is topped by percussionist Berklee, who has since left the group to become music director for the Smothered Brothers. Berklee's presence in the group is vividly picturesque, since he is the only drummer in jazz whose sock cymbals are argyle. He cooks relentlessly on the first three tracks, after which Finster made him stop and start drumming (tracks 4 through 9 — see liner notes).

The arrangements were done by Irving Nolson and are the best things he's done to date. From the looks of it, he is going to be with the octet for a long time to come. And, though somewhat hampered with frozen hands and impregnable earmuffs, audience reaction, as heard in these grooves, was generally excellent and well recorded.

Unfortunately — for the group as well as the public — this album won't be released until much later this year. However, when it is issued, don't miss it. This is one of the great ones and should be in every true jazz lover's library.

(G.C.)

Source:

April 11, 1963

Down Beat Magazine

OUT OF MY HEAD

George Crater, In Response To Numerous Reader Requests, Provides Biographies Of The Zoot Finster Octet Members

Since my review of Zoot Finster's At Sun Valley appeared recently in Down Beat, I've been getting mail asking for photographs, life histories, blood types, addresses, and so on, of the members of the group.

But because the group is camera-shy and I'm militantly protesting the increase in postal rates, readers will have to settle for digging the bits of information about them I have gathered here. Ordinarily I'd try to cop out of something like this ("you know how it is, man—the cat doesn't want his business in the street") but since you ask. . . .

RUDELL BENGE: Started blowing baritone saxophone when he was 2 and had to stand on cigar boxes to reach saxophone reed; switched to mandolin after a cigar box caved in and upper lip was caught on neck-strap key; switched to zither at 10 to get roots; at 17 switched to switchblade and was heard on recording of Blues Wail from the County Jail; switched to guitar at 24 and joined Jazz Invaders but left group when they decided to gig at Bay of Pigs; freelanced for year and a half as an overworked piston ring before joining Finster. LPs as leader: On a Benge, Hipsville 1102.

HUMPHREY NURTUREWURST: First gained nationwide recognition at age 10 when his music instructor convinced him to pose in a "help send this boy to camp" poster. At 13 he was a protege of Barry Miles. At 18 he joined Woody Herman's legendary Herd that featured Stan Getz, Max Roach, Thornel Schwartz, Ann Landers, Izzy Goldberg, Andre Previn, Conte Candoli, Daddy-O Daylie, Richie Kamuca, Yma Sumac, Art Davis, Bob Brookmeyer, Chuck Walton, Richard Burton, Lament Cranston, Frank Strozier, Cy Touff, Abe Most, Tutti Camaratta, and Sammy Davis Sr. After three months, he left Herman (lack of solo space) and met Finster at a Greenwich Village taffy pull. The two of them hit it off immediately and have stuck together ever since.

MILT ORP: Born in Romania, studied vibraharp until 20, and then changed to marimba. Later moved to Transylvania, where he met famed composer Bela Clot. Helped co-author with Clot such Hungarian jazz standards as Artery in Rhythm, A Bite in Tunisia, and Take the A Vein. Moved to United States in 1960 and studied marimba at the Hobart Crump School for Wayward Staffs and Stiffs. Joined Finster last summer in time for Fire Island Jazz Festival.

STICKS BERKLEE: Graduated magna cum laude from Benedict Arnold University with a B.A. in journalism. Started writing liner notes on cough-drop boxes after graduation. Began on drums after he wrote "how are ya fixed for blades?" on a Smith Bros, box, and company was sued by Gillette. First big-time gig with Morris Grain's society orchestra. Left Grain early last year after an argument over mixing with the patrons between sets. Later married the Duchess of Velstobourg, an avid jazz buff, who, by surrendering half the royalties to her newly invented homogenized, no cholesterol moustache wax, was able to land him a job with Finster.

STRIMP GRECH: Began playing cello in 1914. A smooth technique featuring a fleeting pizzacato helped him land a gig in New York with the Salvation Army. On the advice of Jean Simmons he left the group and joined the East Bayonne Philharmonic Orchestra, for which he became the first cellist to receive the award usually reserved for banjoists and guitarists, the Strummy. Retired in 1923 to live on the royalties of his never-to-be-forgotten hit One-Note Charleston. Brought out of retirement last summer by Finster at the urging of noted jazz historian Arnold Horde.

MILES COSNAT: Direct descendent of the fabled Connecticut vagrant Mooch Cosnat. After learning trumpet in the spring of 1950, he began working days in a Madison Ave. advertising agency and nights in the house band at Birdland. He soon became known around town as "the man with the gray flannel mute." Cosnat first met Finster in 1955 while the latter was picketing a razed pawnshop. After teaming with Finster, he became famous for his upper-register lyricism and his forearm tattoo of Big Maybelle. Put down his horn in 1959 to write jazz backgrounds for Hollywood newsreels and television test patterns before rejoining Finster last year.

GIMP LYMPHLY: Born Garnett Mash Lymphly in Kentucky, the most memorable event of his childhood was that of watching revenue agents smash his father's still. It was then he coined the phrase "flatted fifths." At the age of 24 he bought a secondhand gorkaphone at an Edsel parts rummage sale. Upon mastering the complicated fingering of the unwieldy horn, he was committed to a Stan Kenton Clinic as the result of chronic complaints by unhip friends and neighbors. After numerous treatments there, he decided to go on to bigger and better things and obtained a master's degree in music from a box of Cracker Jack. Unable to land a musical job, he went to work in a razor-blade factory near Duluth, Minn., where he was discovered by miscellaneous instrumentalist Cameron Lindsay Jr. Lindsay ultimately recommended him to Finster, and the rest is history.

ZOOT FINSTER: Leader or co-leader of some of the most dynamic jazz groups of the last 20 years. Because of his on-the-scene-off-the-scene shenanigans, his early life is a mystery. However, this much is known: in 1944 he became the first jazz musician to do a solo performance at the Hollywood Bowl, a bowling alley in Hollywood, Fla.; in 1951 he was the innovator of Gulf Coast Jazz while gigging part time as an itinerant Texas beachcomber; in 1954 he traded his tenor saxophone to Sid Caesar for a wallet-size photo of Imogene Coca; in 1959 he appeared on the back cover of Down Beat; in 1961, accompanied by 100 flaxen-haired tots with yo-yos, he recorded his first album for Hipsville, Zoot Finster and Strings.                

Source:

June 20,  1963

Down Beat Magazine