Tad Shull - Deep Passion in the Land of the Jazz Tenor Saxophonist

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

My introduction to Tad Shull’s big, blustery and boisterous Jazz tenor saxophone sound came from two CD’s he made for Gerry Teekens’ Criss Cross Jazz in the early 1990’s.

When listening to Tad, legendary tenor players like Coleman Hawkins, Don Byas, Johnny Griffin, Eddie “Lockjaw” Davis and Lucky Thompson come to mind. Not bad company to be in, but make no mistake, Tad is his own man.

As Richard Cook and Brian Morton have remarked in The Penguin Guide to Jazz on CD, 6th Ed.: “Shull is a big-toned tenor specialist out of Norwalk, Connecticut. … Having taken the trouble to get himself a decent sound and to learn the changes inside out, he’s not afraid to tackle ungarnished D-flat blues. An unabashed traditionalist, there is plenty of evidence on his recordings that Shull keeps his ears open.”

Here’s more about Tad’s background from drummer Kenny Washington sleeve notes to Deep Passion: Tad Shull Quintet [Criss Cross 1047 CD].

In an era when it seems like all you have to do to record for a major label is to be 20 years old, wear an imported suit, look cute, and have an attitude, it is refreshing to see someone record who really deserves it.

I've played with just about every young 'star', and I've found that if you take them out of their world of vamps, and phrygian and mixolydian modes, and you stick a standard tune or the blues in front of them, you really hear that they sound like beginners. A young musician (who will remain nameless) was playing in an all-star concert with Dizzy Gillespie. Diz called Ellington's In a Mellow Tone, and this musician asked me to hum the melody to him! That was six years ago, and I wouldn't be surprised if he still didn't know it now.

The two main reasons for this are, one, that the record companies are snapping up these players before they get any experience. Between a musician's looks, personality, and record companies' marketing strategies, they turn a young jazz musician into a boy wonder (or, as I call them, boy blunders!). In short, the last thing on some of these record bigwigs' minds is the music. They themselves are not into the music, but only their ill-gotten gains. All this helps to lower the once very high standard of this music. The second reason is that the young musicians themselves have not taken the time to study the history of this music. The average tenor saxophonist today knows almost nothing before Sonny Rollins' Prestige recordings. There are a lot of transitional figures that were around before Rollins. Tad Shull is definitely someone who has taken the time out to check out all musical styles.

Tad was born in Norwalk. Connecticut on October 15,1955. At age 11 his music teachers gave him a saxophone, saying his ear wasn't good enough for any other instrument (imagine that!). Tad says, 'I pictured a sound like Don Byas', though I had yet to hear him, and that's why I stuck with it. A local musician played me Coleman Hawkins' Body and Soul, and some Duke Ellington, a few years later.'

At age 16, Tad studied with Dave Liebman, who was playing with Elvin Jones at the time. Liebman turned him on to the other big-toned tenors, like Eddie 'Lockjaw' Davis and Johnny Griffin.

Tad went on to study at the New England Conservatory of Music in Boston, where he studied the mechanics of jazz with two legendary figures, Jaki Byard, and Joe Allard. Tad says he owes his whole approach to the horn itself to Joe.

In 1978, he made the big move to New York City. Tad caught the tail end of the midtown jazz scene that was left from the 'forties, playing at Eddie Condon's and Jimmy Ryan's before they closed. He got a chance to work with masters like Roy Eldridge, Connie Kay, Eddie Locke and John Bunch. Tad looked especially to Roy and also Jimmy Rowles not only as musical influences, but for attitudes towards the jazz life in general.

In 1980, Tad toured the U.S. and Canada with the Smithsonian Jazz Repertory Ensemble, led by Bob Wilber. A year later, he joined the Widespread Depression Jazz Orchestra, where he has held that chair ever since. In addition to playing with WDJO, he has continued to lead his own groups.

I met Tad in 1985 after playing with the WDJO, and was completely knocked out

by his sound and knowledge of the music. What you should keep in mind while listening to him is that this young tenor titan has checked out all saxophone styles. You hear everything from Hawkins to Coltrane. Also, you can hear how Tad was especially intrigued by some angular, more harmonically daring tenor players. I'm speaking of tenor masters like Chu Berry, Don Byas, Lucky Thompson, Paul Gonsalves, and Lockjaw Davis. These players had a different way of approaching rhythm and harmony. You could never tell what they might play next. From listening to these masters, I can tell that Tad has the same kind of approach. The amazing thing about it is that although he has listened to these great men, he's his own man on the horn.

For years it bugged me that Tad wasn't better known. It also bugged me that he didn't have a date out under his own name. I talked to Gerry Teekens, the owner of Criss-Cross, and urged him to check him out. After hearing a demo by Tad, he was thoroughly convinced that Tad had something to say.

This brings us to Deep Passion, which is Tad's first as a leader. The title simply means the feelings that are conveyed when this man plays his horn. His big, round, smooth tone conveys beauty, intimacy and love at all tempos -- but especially the ballads.

The musicians at hand here [Tad, Kenny, Irwin Stokes on trumpet, Mike LeDonne, piano and Dennis Irwin on bass] should meet with any jazz chef's taste buds. Jazz is like making a sauce. If you don't have the right spices it won't have the right flavor. The spices here are right. We get together to simmer and cook a soulful, swingin' jazz sauce….”

Tad shred these thoughts on his approach to Jazz in the insert notes from his second Criss Cross CD In The Land of the Tenor [Criss Cross 1071 CD].

“The best writers on jazz understand that there is only so much words can add to the music itself.   Having to speak on my own playing carries added risks.   I could fall into congratulating myself, or fuss over pet details.   Now, owners of this brand new CD must want to know something about the background of the person they are listening to. The best approach might be to offer something about my attitude towards the tenor saxophone and what it's like to learn to play it.

In terms of musical apprenticeship, I went backwards in time. While I struggled to grab a piece of whatever incredible things my idols were able to do, a part of unraveling the mystery was to find out what each guy listened to when he was coming up — what made him tick.

When I started, Coltrane was not long gone, and like many other tenor players at the time I was caught up in the wave. But it didn't seem as though Coltrane himself, different as he was, could have just sprung up from out of nowhere. Over a period of years, it turned out, Coltrane led me to Lockjaw Davis and Johnny Griffin, then Gene Ammons and Sonny Stitt, and of course Charlie Parker. Bird himself could not have been Bird but for the rich musical culture he had been nurtured with since day one. So curiosity about Bird then meant checking out Lester Young, and then finally Coleman Hawkins, and Hawk-inspired players like Don Byas and Lucky Thompson.

The more I went back, the more I discovered that the styles of these older men following Hawk were even harder to "cop" than the ones who came later, who I

think relied more on set patterns. There was something "whole" and personal there. Technique they had aplenty. But so does everyone else. It struck me that these classic tenors made technique the servant of an almost vocal, speechlike expression. Every note molded tone, attack, harmony, you name it, into something complete. I think that kind of split-second control over every facet of music at once is what we mean by the term "melody"—and that's always personal.

Thinking about the personal approach of these past masters of the tenor gives me the moxie to keep going in the future. Jazz has already seen many, many tenor players come and go. I keep hearing more new ones that can really play every day. After so much tenor, why still more?  Maybe it's because, in this music where the performer is also the composer, it's an ideal medium for self-expression. The tonal range of the tenor provides a raw, unformed piece of plastic material for each soul to shape or imprint as he likes. The classic tenors showed that the possibilities just overflowed from the bell of the horn, and their descendants proved the source couldn't be drained (ever notice that even bad tenor players "sound like themselves"?). With a hundred years of jazz behind us, it's still hard to believe that newcomers can't add to the choruses already played.

Now that it comes to painting myself into this tableau of tenor history, the job gets tricky.   Naming some of my worthy forebears, and rhapsodizing about jazz individualism, I risk comparing myself with them.   In my case, their breathtaking originality or technical innovation may still be a distant goal. But with so many

tenors listen to, there is a point where you can't help doing things your own way. The problem, as I said up front, is to put into words what that "way" is.

You probably guessed I am not an avant-garde player.   Even though I have some idols who were born before World War I,  I don't see much need to hone safely to "the tradition." How about something in between "trad" and avant-garde, then, say straight ahead? But I think you will hear that I do not sound like other straight-ahead players.

In the end, I can tell you something about what I'm not. But if you want to know what I am, you will have to listen and judge for yourself.”

This video with give you a taste of the sound of Tad Shull’s tenor “in action.” The tune is Mike LeDonne’s Tadpole on which he is joined by Irvin Stokes, trumpet, Mike on piano, bassist Dennis Irwin and drummer Kenny Washington.

Mel + Marty = Musical Magic [From The Archives]

This piece was originally published in 2010 but copyright issues blocked the accompanying video from being seen in many countries. For whatever reason/s, and with the continuing exception of Germany, which is served by a different distribution agreement, these restrictions have been lifted, so I thought I'd re-post the feature as the combination of Mel Torme's singing and Marty Paich's arranging have long been one of my favorite Jazz associations.

“The young Torme's voice was honey-smooth, light, limber, inef­fably romantic and boyish; and it's amazing how many of those qualities he kept, even into old age … Torme's rhythmic panache and tonal sweetness turn back the years.”

- Richard Cook & Brian Morton, The Penguin Guide to Jazz on CD.

“The one major singer who consistently sought to use the cool sound in his work …

was Mel Torme … [who was] inspired by the sound of the Miles Davis Nonet and the Gerry Mulligan Tentet, the two celebrated mini bands that had set off the cool reaction to bop’s heat. He and West Coast arranger Marty Paich put together a ten-piece unit patterned after both the Davis and Mulligan bands.

In a masterful series of sets like Mel Torme and The Marty Paich Dektette [Bethlehem] and Mel Torme Sings Shubert Alley [Verve], Torme and Paich brilliantly recast familiar show tunes into fresh, exciting new forms.”

- Will Friedwald in Bill Kirchner, ed., The Oxford Companion to Jazz 

“On the job, he [Marty Paich] became (in my estimation, of course) a U-Boat
Commander. On the job, the exact performance of his music was not just
desirable ... it was ordained. Quite often, Marty delivered a
passionate speech to whatever band was in front of him - having to do
with the importance of playing his music the only way possible - his
way. Which I'll add was unquestionably the right way. Usually as he
spoke, his voice would tighten and now and then a tremor could be
detected. It meant that much to him ... and I never encountered this
level of determination in anyone else I played for. Ever. And I
appreciated him all the more for it. Some of my colleagues, though,
didn't. Everybody considered him a gifted arranger, but some didn't
mind if they didn't get the call to work for him. I enjoyed every
minute of it ... even the speeches.”

-Trombonist, Milt Bernhart

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

After revisiting the music of Marty Paich in the context of the arrangements he prepared for Stan Kenton’s Orchestra, his work with alto saxophonist Art Pepper on the latter’s Art Pepper + 11 album and the charts he wrote for his own big band – we’ve done video tributes to all three – the editorial staff at JazzProfiles suddenly remembered that it had made a grand omission.

What about Marty’s writing for vocalist Mel Torme!?

Mel and Marty began their collaboration in the mid-1950s on a series of recordings for Bethlehem Records – most notably, Mel Torme’: Lulu’s Back in Town – on which Marty used his trademark prowess for taking a relatively small band and making it sound like a much larger orchestra.

The Torme’-Paich association produced musical magic in the sense that Marty’s arrangements personified in the public mind all that was hip, slick and cool in Mel’s vocal stylings.

Paich’s writing had a strong compatibility with Torme’s singing style. He had an uncanny way of producing arrangements that gave flight to Torme’s vocal acrobatics while at the same time keeping them from getting out-of-hand.

The partnership continued in effect during the early 1960’s when Mel moved to Verve. Their best work together at this label was on the Mel Torme’ Swings Shubert Alley about which Richard Cook and Brian Morton had this to say:

“This is arguably Torme's greatest period on record, and it cap­tures the singer in full flight. His range had grown a shade tougher since his 1940s records, but the voice is also more flexible, his phrasing infinitely assured, and the essential lightness of timbre is used to suggest a unique kind of tenderness. Marty Paich's arrangements are beautifully polished and rich-toned, the French horns lending a distinctive color to ensembles which sound brassy without being metallic. There may be only a few spots for soloists but they're all made to count, in the West Coast manner of the day. It's loaded with note-perfect scores from Paich and a couple of pinnacles of sheer swing in 'Too Darn Hot' (a treatment Torme kept in his set to the end) and 'Just In Time', as well as a definitive 'A Sleepin' Bee'.”

You can hear the musical magic that the duo of Torme and Paich produce on the Whatever Lola Wants audio track to the following video tribute to Mel. Throughout, listen for how Mel brings the fictional Lola to life with his phrasing of the tune's lyrics. There's disdain and more than a touch of pity in his voice. It's like he's saying to the young man about to be ensnared in Lola's clutches - "You don't stand a chance."  The genius is in the details; Mel's not just singing the song, he's portraying it.

Be sure and also listen for:

[1] Marty’s use of a musical reference to Dizzy’s Manteca in the intro

[2] Art Pepper’s roaring alto solo at 1:12 minutes

[3] trombonist Frank Rosolino’s quote of Dizzy’s A Night in Tunisia at the beginning of his solo at 1:33

[4] the subtle key change when Mel comes back in at 1:53 minutes with Marty’s use of a riff based on Bernie’s Tune in the background

[5] the one-man, three-note fanfare that Mel employs at 3:07 minutes to end the tune; not many vocalist could pull this off.

The following insert notes by to Mel Torme’ Swings Shubert Alley by Lawrence D. Stewart insert notes reveal the amount of thought, knowledge and sensitivity that went into the development of this recording [paragraphing modified].

“Geometry insists that the whole is equal to the sum of its parts; but when the proposition is Mel Torme plus Marty Paich, the result is far more than a combination of singular talents. Torme and Paich have made over half a dozen records together, always experi­menting in the balancing of this jazz equation. But the formula they have uncovered for this set is the most astonishing yet.

Torme does not conceive of himself as a soloist with a background accom­paniment. Instead, he treats his voice as one more instrument in the band and achieves his effects by balance, counter-rhythm and even harmonic dissonances, which ring against these instrumental changes. "Most singers want to finish singing and then have the band come in for a bar and a half—and then they're on again," observes Paich. "But Mel's always saying 'Let the band play — let the band play.' It’s quite unselfish from his standpoint and it doesn't overload the album. It makes for good listening." It does even more than that: It gives a totally new conception to some rather traditional music.

Shubert Alley is the home of stand­ards, and on this album we hear a dozen from as many shows of the past two decades. Broadway show orches­trations have a certain sameness which is effective in the theatre — where attention is directed toward the action on stage — but sometimes makes rather routine listening at home. (In­deed, does anyone ever hear an Origi­nal Cast album and not have his thoughts drawn to the footlights rather than to the song?) The first problem in choosing the numbers for this set was to pick tunes which had a jazz potential. Paich remarked, "When we picked the tunes we chose those geared not only to serve Mel as vocalist but to serve instrumentally as well."

"Too Close for Comfort" (Mr. Won­derful, 1956; music and lyrics by Jerry Bock, Larry Holofcener and George Weiss): A fine introduction to the set, with its rhythmic treatment, its stac­cato emphasis on rhymes, and its building to a sustained climax with harmonic changes. "Once in Love with Amy" (Where's Charley?, 1948; with mu­sic and lyrics by Frank Loesser): Origi­nally Ray Bolger soft-shoed this sing-along ballad to ecstatic audi­ences. Besides recreating this song-and-dance situation, Torme works up some melodic improvisations for the lyric.

"A Sleepin' Bee" (House of Flowers, 1954; music by Harold Arlen, lyrics by Truman Capote and Harold Arlen): This melody began as one of composer Arlen's famous "jots." He had thought of developing it for Judy Garland's A Star Is Born, but the tune was put aside and soon he himself was working on its lyric. "On the Street Where You Live" (My Fair Lady, 1956; music by Frederick Loewe, lyrics by Alan Jay Lerner): Torme and Paich take us for a fast trot down this famed thoroughfare. In the show—as on this recording — the song enthusiastically announced Freddy's love for Eliza Doolittle. So successfully did Freddy plead his case that Shaw himself in­sisted that it was to be Freddy, and not Professor Henry Higgins, who was to win the girl.

"All I Need Is the Girl" (Gypsy, 1959; music by Jule Styne, lyr­ics by Stephen Sondheim): For this tap-and-song specialty, Torme has con­cocted some up-dated lyrics, with ech­oes of Max Shulman and Ira Gershwin. "Just in Time" (Bells Are Ringing, 1956; music by Jule Styne, lyrics by Betty Comden and Adolph Green): Torme establishes this contemporary stand­ard to the accompaniment of bass and drums; then the band comes in, and soon Torme is spinning out improvisa­tions upon this insistently simple me­lodic line.

"Hello, Young Lovers" (The King and I,1951; music by Richard Rodgers, lyrics by Oscar Hammerstein II): Conceived as a bittersweet ballad, this song here gets sped up as Torme and Paich give it new emphasis and phras­ing. "The Surrey with the Fringe on Top" (Oklahoma!, 1943; music by Ri­chard Rodgers, lyrics by Oscar Ham­merstein II): The song itself may have been in the tradition of "The Donkey Serenade" with its jog-jog tempo and repetitive melody, but the show created its own genre: the American folk operetta. "Old Devil Moon" (Finian s Rainbow, 1947; music by Bur­ton Lane; lyrics by E. Y. Harburg): This song takes its title from a phrase in "Fun to be Fooled," a song which E. Y. Harburg had written with Ira Gershwin and Harold Arlen for 1934's Life Begins at 8:40. Paich now gives this quasi-Irish ballad a South American beat.

"What­ever Lola Wants" (Damn Yankees, 1955; music and lyrics by Richard Adler and Jerry Ross): As handmaiden to the Devil, Gwen Verdon undulated this song to acclaim on both the stage and screen. Torme has worked in his own allusion to Nabokov and worked over the song to advantage. "Too Darn Hot" (Kiss Me, Kate, 1948; music and lyrics by Cole Porter): Here we have a bril­liant arrangement, excitingly enunci­ated, with all the seldom-heard lyrics; and hear that repeated title and key changes which ever set it off.

"Lonely Town" (On the Town, 1944; music by Leonard Bernstein; lyrics by Betty Comden and Adolph Green): A song which has never lost its memorable evocation of World War II New York, this number can also be a contempo­rary supper-club lament, as Torme and Paich prove in this final demonstration of their facility with jazz equation.

LAWRENCE D. STEWART”

Personnel: Mel Torme, vocals, with the Marty Paich Orchestra. Orchestra includes Al Porcino, Stu Williamson, trumpets; Frank Rosolino, trombone; Vince DeRosa, French horn; Red Callender, tuba; Art Pepper, alto sax; Bill Perkins, tenor sax; Bill Hood, bari­tone sax; Marty Paich, piano; Joe Mondragon, bass; Mel Lewis, drums.

Arranged and conducted by Marty Paich.

Recorded January 21, February 4 and 11, 1960 in Los Angeles.

Produced by Russ Garcia. Recording Engineer: Val Valentin

Quintetto Basso Valdambrini: A Tribute

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

Having been raised in California during an era when the West Coast Jazz style of Jazz was still predominant, this approach to the music with its emphasis on composition, harmonically blended front lines, elaborate counter-melodies and easy, loping swing has always been among my favorites.

It would appear that I am not alone in this regard as over the years this style of "cool school Jazz" influenced many Jazz musicians in Scandinavia, Holland, France and Germany and was a major factor in the development of the samba-lite bossa nova music that originated in Brazil.

Because of my fondness for it, I'm always on the lookout for other groups who play Jazz in this manner.

Thanks to a close friend who hipped me to their recordings, I became aware of an Italian Jazz Quintet led by trumpeter Gianni Basso and tenor saxophonist Oscar Valdambrini that sounds as though they could have stepped in for Howard Rumsey's Lighthouse All-Stars without missing a beat [bad pun intended].

There's more about the group and its music in the following review by Andrew Cartmel which appeared in the London Jazz News, Saturday, December 20, 2014

Basso Valdambrini Quintet – Fonit H602-H603
(Rearward RW154LP. Double LP. Review by )

"The small groups co-led by tenor sax player Gianni Basso and trumpeter Oscar Valdambrini were the most celebrated jazz units to emerge from Italy in the late 1950's and early 60's. First rising to prominence in Milan, under the name The Italian Sextet, Basso actually came from Asti (where they make such damn fine wine) while Valdambrini was born in Turin. They played the San Remo and Lyon jazz festivals and distinguished themselves in Armando Trovajoli’s big band before reverting to their own quintet. Working in a West Coast and hard bop idiom they held a long term residence in Milan which was successful enough to attract Verve Records in the USA, who issued a Basso-Valdambrini album in their International Series in 1959. The following year Basso and Valdambrini released a classic album Walking in the Night on RCA Italy. In 1962, operating as a sextet, they won a contest as ‘The Best Modern Jazz in Italy’ and toured the USA and recorded another RCA album under this banner. All these excellent albums went out of print and became collectors items. But in recent years they have resurfaced, first as Japanese reissues, and then in their native Italy.

While the back catalogue of Basso-Valdambrini’s most famous titles is now in pretty healthy shape, the Rearward/Schema label (based, appropriately enough, in Milan) has pulled off a real coup by unearthing some extremely rare library recordings by the Quintet. Library music, often performed by top musicians, is an anonymous genre designed to be used, uncredited, by TV and radio programs who don’t want to go to the trouble and expense of commissioning bespoke compositions. The recordings here were first released as two vinyl albums on the Milanese Fonit Cetra label, with generic covers and the inscrutable designations H602 and H603. Their subtitles are more enlightening: Stile: Pop-Jazz and Stile: Californiano (the ‘pop jazz’ is actually closer to a soul jazz feel). Recorded in 1970, these sessions are reportedly the last performances of the Basso-Valdambrini Quintet. They are certainly the rarest.

What is most striking about this music is the spirit with which Basso and Valdambrini and their rhythm section approach the project. These anonymous recordings — never, as far as they knew, destined to be linked with their names — are performed with as much conviction as anything they ever did. In fact, they play their hearts out. Plinius is reminiscent of Oliver Nelson’s classic The Blues and the Abstract Truth in the horn arrangements and the general balance of the instruments; it’s a tight knit blues vehicle with a driving, rolling beat. Subtle and deceptively complex drum patterns come courtesy of Lionello Bionda while Basso’s sax offers a taut commentary with Valdambrini shadowing him like a Siamese twin.

Maglione (‘Sweater’) also evokes Nelson’s masterwork, with gorgeous hard edged tenor which hands over to Valambrini’s virile trumpet and skirling scales on the piano from Ettore Righello. The abrupt, instant ending is audacious and breathtaking. Invertime pays homage to vintage Miles Davis in Valdambrini’s trumpet approach while on the free jazz outing El Gato (‘The Cat’), Basso conjures the spirit of Coltrane.

In the Stile: Californiano sessions, Gold Mine has a jaunty but laidback Jazz at the Lighthouse atmosphere, a mood which continues with Glaucus in its Chet Baker feel and E’ Molto Facile (‘And Very Easy’). Pick Up provides a bright barrage of trumpet, skipping piano and a Dizzy Gillespie rhythmic riffing. On The Jolly Basso’s tenor is darkly emphatic, with a lovely burnished, glowing tone. Ettore Righello contributes agile, methodical, story-telling piano cushioned by Giorgio Azzolini’s bass until unison sax and trumpet take over, waving the banner of the melody.

Behind this less than alluring title lies an exciting reissue for fans of Italian jazz. What were once impossibly rare and expensive records are available again in a fine sounding double vinyl set which comes complete with a free CD."

Rat Race Blues: The Musical Life of Gigi Gryce - 2nd Ed.

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

“In the few short years Gigi Gryce lived in New York, it seemed just about every important jazz musician knew him. This was inevitable because of his ability as an alto saxophonist and an extremely creative writer. Many times, as the new boy in town, I was completely thrilled when visiting his apartment and Coleman Hawkins or Art Blakey or Max Roach or Howard McGhee or Hank Jones or others would call. I wanted to be in on the conversation so badly that the only thing I could think of to say was, "Tell him I said hello!" Of course, only a few actually knew who I was at the time. Gigi, knowing this, indulged me nevertheless.

He came to New York with bundles of music under his arms and even more in his mind. He was an organizer of the highest magnitude and quickly gained a reputation for it. When people—musicians, club owners, entrepreneurs—wanted quality jazz underscored with quality business, they often included Gigi in their calls. Although a graduate of the Boston Conservatory, he chose not to teach school in those early days because of devoting full time to writing and playing and becoming a well-informed business man in the marketplace. In fact, he and I later became partners in two publishing companies. Though he did not formally teach in any university then, he was always teaching. He was didactic by nature and could not envision life without intuitively teaching at every opportunity. I do not infer, however, that he was aggressive or arrogant in this. In a quite natural way, he lovingly and mercifully shared all the information he had stored in his capacious mind.”...

After perusing the contents of Rat Race Blues: The Musical Life of Gigi Gryce, the reader will never ever find Gigi Gryce relegated to the two-dimensional medium of vinyl discs and CDs only, but he will become as real as anyone we've ever known in life. Let's be glad that there was a musician like Gigi Gryce, and let's be glad that there were people like Noal Cohen and Michael Fitzgerald who had enough conviction and vision to recall Gigi's plethoric life with the aid of their minds, hearts, and pens. Noal, Michael— I salute you.”

- Benny Golson, tenor saxophonist, composer-arranger bandleader

Noal Cohen and Michael Fitzgerald are a couple of brave guys.

Not only have these courageous explorers signed on to navigate the dangerously obscure currents of the “Sea of Jazz History,” but in seeking to uncover the hidden island that is the biographical life of one “Gigi Gryce,” they have also volunteer to compile a discography of his recordings. Each a monumental task in-and-of-itself!

All metaphorical kidding aside, given the woeful and largely anecdotal information that exists about most major Jazz figures, not only have Noal and Michael taken on the huge task of writing a Jazz biography about a musician who was not particularly well-known outside of select Jazz circles, they have somehow managed to compile an excellent discography of his recordings, many of which were made for record companies who kept poor records at best, if they kept any at all!

The musician is question is alto saxophonist and bandleader Gigi Gryce 1925-1983 and the book is entitled Rat Race Blues: The Musical Life of Gigi Gryce [2nd edition.

Noal and Michael have assumed distribution responsibility for the second and subsequent editions of the book and you can locate more about them as well as order information by visiting this site.

What Noal and Michael set out to do and how they set out to do it are fully explained in the following excerpts from the book’s preface.

“THIS book is the result of nearly a decade of serious research and half a century of casual interest. It slowly came together as we became aware of Gigi Gryce's efforts, efforts scattered across many classic albums. Although his career was brief, lasting only a decade, he seemed to be associated with the greatest, most creative artists in jazz and his writing and playing were unique and readily identifiable.

Never before has there been a thorough and exhaustive look at the entire oeuvre of Gigi Gryce, which numbered over a hundred recording sessions, most of them issued commercially. During his lifetime he was the subject of a chapter in two books (Raymond Horricks's These Jazzmen of Our Time and Robert Reisner's The Jazz Titans), and since his death he has only figured as an auxiliary to the career of Clifford Brown and as one-of-many in the school of lyrical hard bop composers. Almost no writing existed that evaluated his career, his many compositions, and his place in the history of jazz. What did exist perhaps covered one aspect but ignored several others. Only when examined in full could the range of his musical development be seen and properly assessed.

Even before beginning work on this project it was apparent that there were contradictions and errors in the biographical details and in credits and titles of compositions. We worked to verify or disprove these definitively by using multiple sources. In digging deeper, we learned that Gryce's birth and death dates have regularly been misreported and that no published account of his life was without some kind of misinformation.

"So, whatever happened to Gigi Gryce?" was a frequent question we heard, not only from fans but also from some of the musicians who were close to him in the 1950s. Rumors were rampant and, if truth be told, Gryce himself contributed to the confusion. While this book cannot clear up the entire mystery, it will certainly present the clearest and most accurate account of his post-jazz life available at this time. It should be noted, however, that these years are not the focus of the book, which is concerned with the composer and performer.

Any biography of a musician must necessarily deal with that artist's recorded legacy and a complete discography was begun. This is the only comprehensive discography of Gigi Gryce ever to have been attempted, although general discographers (Raben, Bruyninckx, Lord) included the vast majority of sessions to one extent or another. Items were added and corrections made up until weeks before submitting the manuscript for publication. Items that had been issued but never documented were included and, in most cases, new information was added to amend the earlier work. An international community of record collectors supplied rare recordings and information relating to foreign issues.

One of the first thoughts regarding research strategy was to interview the musicians who knew and worked with Gryce. This logical idea led to compiling a list of survivors based on the most accurate discography. Added to this list were family members and then friends, co-workers, and acquaintances. The period with which we were primarily concerned was the years 1953—1963 and in the intervening decades a number of the participants have passed away. Even as we were conducting our research and writing the text of the first edition, we learned of the deaths of several important colleagues: Art Taylor (1995), Johnny Coles (1996), Gerry Mulligan (1996), Walter Bishop, Jr. (1998), Betty Carter (1998), Jaki Byard (1999), Art Farmer (1999), Milt Jackson (1999), Melba Liston (1999), Ernie Wilkins (1999), Al Grey (2000), Milt Hinton (2000), Alan Hovhaness (2000), Jerome Richardson (2000), Stanley Turrentine (2000), JJ. Johnson (2001), John Lewis (2001), and Makanda Ken Mclntyre (2001). Three of Gryces sisters also passed away during this time: Kessel Grice Jamieson (1997), Elvis Grice Blanchard (1999), and Harriet Grice Combs (1999). Regrettably, we were unable to communicate with some of them and, of course, these missed opportunities can never be regained. Some other subjects declined to be interviewed, and some were impossible to contact (though we certainly did try). In the end, we were fortunate to record over seventy-five conversations specifically on the topic of Gigi Gryce and his music.

Each of these presented new information and interesting anecdotes. We have tried in many cases to preserve in the text the actual words of the interviews. In the tradition of earlier books like Hear Me Talkin’ to Ya, this has elements of an oral history, but here the stories of the participants share the page with retrospection, critique, and our follow-up research which attempts to support and clarify the quotes. While neither of us ever met Gryce, we hope that through the words of those who knew him, something of him may be conveyed to future readers. (The code for each quoted interview is listed in a table.)

Another avenue of research involved going through the periodicals and literature with a fine-tooth comb. Sometimes even the smallest mention would eventually lead to a major discovery, particularly when several items were used in conjunction with each other, and with the interviews and photographic contributions. The bibliography included here does not detail all of these, but covers the publications that contain significant coverage related to Gryce s work and the world in which he operated.

Although this book is not targeted for musicians only, a great deal of examination was conducted on Gryces music, involving transcriptions and study of copyright deposits at the Library of Congress. It is hoped that any musical discussion here will be accessible to all readers. We anticipate that the printed compositions preface of Gigi Gryce will finally be made available in the near future and this will certainly generate more interest among the musical community.

We are eager to share our knowledge and enthusiasm and encourage future researchers to contact us with questions or new information. This has been a labor of love and although publication here brings some sense of finality, there will continue to be discoveries that will complete the picture of Gigi Gryce as man, musician, and teacher.

Addendum for the Second Edition

As predicted, further discoveries have indeed been made in the twelve years since the first edition was published. In many cases, these have been the result of the first edition's existence. Other new information has become known as a result of new digital research tools.

We have been able to pinpoint the timing of Gryce's mysterious trip to Paris in 1952, and we have gained access to materials that were previously unavailable to us, including unissued recordings as well as the full score of a large scale classical work that Gryce composed during his conservatory studies. Finally, having been able, at last, to identify and interview students in Gryce's classes during his twenty years as a teacher in New York City (as Basheer Qusim, the name he used during this period) has provided further insight into his methods as an educator. These discoveries and others now provide an even more complete study of this fascinating but often inscrutable individual.

The demand for Gryce's music continues to grow, and happily, it has become available. For the music student and professional, a number of Gryce's compositions have been published in lead sheet form thanks to the efforts of Don Sickler at Jazzleadsheets.

In sadness we must note that since publication of the first edition, we lost additional colleagues and family members, many of whom had provided valuable information: Valerie Grice Claiborne (2002), Henri Renaud (2002), Idrees Sulieman (2002), Mal Waldron (2002), Louis Victor Mialy (2003), Edwin Swanston (2003), Rev. Jerome A. Greene (2004), Walter Perkins (2004), Clifford Solomon (2004), Mort Fega (2005), Raymond Horricks (2005), Lucky Thompson (2005), Bruce Wright (2005), Don Butterfield (2006), Clifford Gunn (2006), Jack Lazare (2006), Bob Weinstock (2006), Art Davis (2007), Esmond Edwards (2007), Norman Macklin (2007), Cecil Payne (2007), Max Roach (2007), Harold Andrews (2008), Jimmy Cleveland (2008), Daniel Pinkham (2008), Dick Katz (2009), Mat Mathews (2009), Danny Bank (2010), Hank Jones (2010), Benny Powell (2010), Fred Baker (2011), Sam Rivers (2011), Teddy Charles (2012), Eleanor Gryce (2012), Hal McKusick (2012), Donald Byrd (2013), Donald Shirley (2013), Ed Shaughnessy (2013), Ben Tucker (2013), and Horace Silver (2014).

Lastly, we have made a significant decision regarding the revised and expanded discography and appendixes. These will not be found herein but rather online at https.www.gigigrycebook.com Our reasons for doing this stem from the following considerations:

1. The files can be updated regularly as new information and corrections are discovered or reported to us.

2. Online publication allows the incorporation of more tabulated information in an easily viewable format that is impractical with a print version. In this regard, it should be noted that the discography has now been compiled using Steve Albin's BRIAN database application, a major breakthrough in the storage and display of discographical information (http://www.jazzdiscography.com).

So while this new approach may seem an inconvenience at first, we are confident that the reader will ultimately appreciate the advantages online publication of these sections offers in the digital age.

Noal Cohen and Michael Fitzgerald September 2014”

The following video tribute to Gigi Gryce offers a sampling of his arranging skills from his Jazz Lab association with trumpeter Donald Byrd. The tune is Horace Silver’s Speculation.

Remembering L.A.’s First Great Record Store, Wallichs Music City

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

“Bing Crosby shopped the aisles, Frank Zappa worked the floor”

In an age of instantaneous audio gratification via digital file downloads and ultra miniaturization made possible by compact disc machines, Mp3 players and cell phones with their ubiquitous ear buds, it’s hard for those who didn’t experience it first hand to relate to an era when 78 rpm acetate followed by vinyl 45 rpm EPs and 33 ⅓ LPs were the primary commercial source for recorded music as played on turntables hooked up to amplifiers and speaker systems.

Much of the way music is sampled today has its origins in the technological innovations of California’s Silicon Valley where computers, information and communications systems, massive data storage capabilities and a high level of entrepreneurship assisted by ready access to investment capital created revolutionary new ways to experience music.

But although one could describe music fitted onto records that had to be purchased in a retail outlet and brought home and listen to on an audio console or portable record player as pedestrian by comparison to the marvels of the age of digital file sharing, there was still a fair share of innovation going on in California back in the slide rule era of the 1950s and 1960s as regards ways to listen to music.

Which brings me to the lovely piece of nostalgia that forms this feature which was written by Alison Martino and first appeared in Los Angeles Magazine,  June 16, 2015.

“Before there was a Tower Records, before the Capitol Records building was the Capitol Records building, L.A.’s coolest music-industry hub was Wallichs Music City.

Glenn Wallichs opened the record store with his brother, Clyde, at the corner of Sunset Boulevard and Vine Street in 1940. Until Tower Records set up on the Sunset Strip 30 years later, Wallichs Music City was the place to go for concert tickets, sheet music, LPs, 45s, tapes, 8-tracks, cassettes, and musical instruments. It’s where a friend of mine purchased a double neck guitar right off the wall, and where my mother picked up an alto recorder for my second grade music class. Maybe you remember its radio and TV jingle: “It’s Music City, Sunset & Vine!”

When Glenn Wallichs co-founded Capitol Records in 1942 with singer-songwriter Johnny Mercer and songwriter Buddy DeSylva, the record label had its offices above the store. (Dot Records moved into that space after Capitol left for Hollywood Boulevard in 1956.) On their way in and out of meetings, recording stars including Bing Crosby, Judy Garland, Nat King Cole, and Eddie Cochran browsed the aisles and signed their names on their latest hits at the display counters downstairs.

But Wallichs Music City wasn’t famous only for its clientele: It had the distinction of being the first record store to seal albums in cellophane and display them in racks. Before that, customers could listen to tracks—or record one of their own, for a small fee—in tiny chambers that looked like old wooden telephone booths.

By the mid 1960s, the area around Hollywood and Vine had become a place “to cruise” and an even more popular zone for music lovers. The Lawrence Welk Show was filmed and the “Teen-Age Fair” was held around the corner at the Hollywood Palladium. Wallichs Music City kept hip hours, staying open until 2 a.m. The store was so cool, in fact, Frank Zappa worked there part-time in 1965. I would have loved to see him in his company-issued coat and tie.

Despite its following, the Wallichs Music City lost business as record chains like Licorice Pizza, Music Plus, and Wherehouse Music & Movies popped up and then multiplied in L.A.’s suburban malls. Wallichs Music City closed in 1978 and the building was razed. Today, a Walgreens stands at its former location. Just don’t go in expecting to “try before you buy.””