Tuesday, April 3, 2018

Brubeck at Oberlin

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


*****... This is incredible music, jazz or whatever, and you should buy it.
— Neil Tesser Down Beat

Jazz At Oberlin was an enormous success on its first release and is still durable nearly 50 years later, with some of Brubeck's and Desmond's finest interaction; one of the pianist's innovations was in getting two musicians to improvise at the same time, and there are good examples of that on the Oberlin College set. It's all standard material, and there are excellent performances of ‘Perdido', 'Stardust' and 'How High The Moon' which adumbrate Brubeck's later interest in unconventional time-signatures.”
- Richard Cook/Brian Morton - The Penguin Guide to Jazz on CD, 6th ed.

“It took many years, but jazz has finally become a respected part of the musical landscape at Oberlin College.


For decades, most people believed there was no jazz at Oberlin College until 1953 when some students of the Oberlin Conservatory, world famous for its classical music, organized a jazz concert by the Dave Brubeck Quartet at Finney Chapel.


A recording of that concert became one of the best-selling jazz records of the 1950s. But, years later, Brubeck remembered the classical music-oriented school had refused to let him play one of its better pianos. He recalled, “‘I was given a small, beat-up, barely playable old grand.’”
- Jazzed in Cleveland:a jazz history by Joe Mosbrook, Part 132 - Jazz at Oberlin, Story filed October 28, 2010


“Jazz at Oberlin was one of the early works in the cool jazz stream of jazz that indicated new directions for jazz that didn't slavishly mirror bebop, and even hinted at free-jazz piano techniques still years away from realisation"; he further observed that it "marked Brubeck's eager adoption by America's (predominantly white) youth - a welcome that soon extended around the world ... for a rhythmically intricate instrumental jazz".
- John Fordham, The Guardian


A question I frequently ask myself is where to go in terms of identifying the topic for my next blog feature.

The sources for this inspiration vary from “a bulb going on over my head” - literally, an “inspiration” -  to preparing a piece on a style of music or a musician I’ve had an interest in for some time, to a suggested topic that’s derived from an outside “person, place or thing.”

The latter is how this feature originated when a Facebook friend posted an album cover of the Dave Brubeck’s 1953 Jazz at Oberlin Fantasy LP which resonated in me to such an extent that I decided, after relistening to recording on CD, to go on a quest and gather as much information on the album as possible in order to gain some insights into how it came to be made, what people thought about the music on it, then and now, and what its overall significance is in the Brubeck Canon.

Extending from the opening italicized remarks, what follows in an unedited compilation of commentary including the albums original liner notes [presumably written by Dave in conjunction with the staff at Fantasy records], James Newman writing on behalf of Oberlin College about the album, Scott Yanow’s annotation in www.allmusic.com, excerpts from The Guardian 50 Great Moments in Jazz Series, the explanation of the album’s importance in Thomas Cunliffe’s “Jazz History Online,” the relevant excerpts from Doug Ramsey’s biography of Paul Desmond [Take Five: The Public and Private Lives of Paul Desmond, Parkside Publications, Seattle, 2005.] which also include the noted West Coast Jazz scholar Ted Gioia’s reflections on the album, the relevant excerpts from Dave and Iola Brubeck’s interview in the University of the Pacific’s “Brubeck Oral History Project,” and a closing link to James Harrod’s extensively researched piece on the subject.

College jazz concerts have long been a commonplace, but in 1953 they were a rarity. It was the Dave Brubeck Quartet that pioneered in the genre, and this was their first on record. Oberlin, with its famous conservatory, was an appropriate setting, and the foursome came up with a program of five great jazz standards in long and often surprisingly free performances that found Dave and Paul Desmond at the top of their game. Dave's intense solo on "These Foolish Things" is one of his most inspired early improvisations, and Paul shines on "The Way You Look Tonight." Throughout, the interplay between them is fresh and often astonishing. Caught at the brink of fame, the quartet shows why it got there.



“As essential in the Brubeck canon as The Duets is Brubeck's 1953, self-taped breakthrough album, Jazz at Oberlin. The roughness of his thunderous chords spilling over and building harmonically as Desmond picks up the melody of "These Foolish Things" is early evidence of how perfectly they complemented each other. Exuding high energy, their simultaneous improvising at breakneck pace completely detonates "Perdido." Brubeck's playing evolved into something more nuanced in later years, but here it's his raw energy that repeatedly evokes roars and applause throughout. (At the time it was another Brubeck innovation to bring live jazz to a college audience setting.) Desmond's riffing on "Stardust" is especially gorgeous as Brubeck simmers down, albeit while exploring odd time signatures. Those, such as five, seven or nine beats per bar, were to become an enduring musical signature. On "The Way You Look Tonight," Desmond's swinging inventiveness provides the launching pad from which Brubeck gets into myriad changes that may leave you breathless. Of this seminal album Brubeck simply said, "I like this recording and so did Paul." You will too.”
  • Andrew Velez - allaboutjazz

Original Liner notes:

DAVE BRUBECK QUARTET — Dave Brubeck,  piano; Paul Desmond. alto sax; Lloyd Davis, drums; Ron Crotty, bass. Recorded in Finney Chapel, Oberlin College, March 2, 1953.

“Oberlin College in northern Ohio has always been the scene for a great deal of musical activity, mainly because of its highly regarded Conservatory of Music. Through the years the Conservatory has considered it its duty to maintain a policy of adhering rather closely to the mainstream of established classical literature in its instruction and its students' performances, never having seen fit to include jazz in its curriculum. Generally, jazz found little enthusiastic support on the Oberlin campus.

Toward the beginning of 1953 the few jazz enthusiasts at Oberlin, having grown extremely tired of the situation, decided to do something, to present, at Oberlin, jazz on an organized concert level. On March 2, 1953, in Oberlin's Finney Chapel they presented in concert the Dave Brubeck Quartet. In spite of early doubt, apprehension, and lack of encouragement, the concert was a huge success, the Quartet holding completely under its control for almost two hours a large and varied audience, many of which were Conservatory students almost entirely uneducated in jazz. When the group finally left the stage, the starving crowd, whose appetite had been only partially satisfied, were crying for more.

The success of the concert had an immediate effect. Students organized the Oberlin College Jazz Club, with plans for three concerts during the following year, including a return performance by the Quartet. Jazz had found itself firmly and comfortably at home in surroundings, where, in the past, it had been met only with apathy and misunderstanding.

These sides from the Oberlin concert represent the Quartet in their most free, uninhibited, yet relaxed manner. They swing constantly, but, as is innate in Brubeck's music, they never cease to emphasize structure — structure growing out of free improvisation.

STARDUST shows off Paul Desmond at his lyrical best, maintaining throughout a feeling of jazz time less ness. Dave constructs his solo on clear, classical lines — restrained, beautiful in their simplicity.
In PERDIDO the Quartet as a unit swings mightily, with Paul's and Dave's solos underlined firmly by ihe beat set by Ron Crotty and Lloyd Davis.
FOOLISH THINGS, probably the best on the program, again finds Paul at his high expressive peak, but on this side it is Dave who amazes. This is Brubeck at his best, constructing form chat builds from "old country" style blues through ihe more sophisticated Gershwin-type jazz, the rhythmic vitality meanwhile increasing to Bartokian proportions. It all resolves in a quiet, relaxed coda provided by Paul and Dave together. An ingratiating jazz experience — in Dave's words, "the best thing we've ever done."
WAY YOU LOOK TONIGHT, the last number on the concert, finds more intense swinging by the group, superb solos by Dave and Paul, and some interesting contrapuntal inventions by the two. The very unique drum figurations in the background are provided by Lloyd Davis who had played the entire concert with the flu and a 103 degree temperature.”

The following is James Newman of Oberlin College addendum to the original insert notes.

“We sincerely feel that this record contains the best of that which happened in Finney Chapel that Monday evening and chat it fully captures the enthusiastic and entirely unanticipated response of the audience. The concert was the force which gave birth to jazz at Oberlin. We hope the record retains enough of that quality to do the same elsewhere.
[James Newman, OBERLIN COLLEGE]”


“Although a touch underrated, Jazz at Oberlin is one of the early Dave Brubeck classic recordings. The interplay between the pianist-leader and altoist Paul Desmond on "Perdido" borders on the miraculous, and their renditions of "The Way You Look Tonight," "How High the Moon" and "Stardust" are quite memorable. Brubeck's piano playing on "These Foolish Things" is so percussive and atonal in one spot as to sound like Cecil Taylor, who would not emerge for another two years. With bassist Ron Crotty and drummer Lloyd Davis giving the Quartet quiet and steady support, Brubeck and Desmond were free to play at their most adventurous. Highly recommended.”
  • Scott Yanow all music

The Guardian 50 Great Moments in Jazz Series

“The pianist and composer Dave Brubeck had more than his share of Great Moments: he was the first to sell a million copies of a jazz instrumental; he was one of Time magazine's rare jazz cover subjects; he has played for presidents and popes; composed everything from classic jazz themes to symphonies; and the tune of his most famous hit, Take Five, is familiar to music lovers, from eight-year-olds to octogenarians.

Brubeck's first Great Jazz Moment is one that has been overlooked though – the making of his quartet's 1953 live album, Jazz at Oberlin. Not only did this dynamic gig reveal Brubeck's vivacious creative relationship with west coast alto saxophonist Paul Desmond to a new and youthful audience, confirming the then 29-year-old Desmond as a sensational sax improviser, it also indicated new directions for jazz that didn't slavishly mirror bebop, and even hinted at free-jazz piano techniques still years away from realisation.

The significance of Jazz at Oberlin didn't stop with the music either. The enthusiasm of the college audience, audible throughout the album, marked Brubeck's eager adoption by America's (predominantly white) youth – a welcome that soon extended around the world, and brought the pianist chart hits for a rhythmically intricate instrumental jazz in a period in which the newly emerged rock'n'roll was carrying all before it.

Growing up on a California ranch, Brubeck learned classical piano from his mother and switched from veterinarian studies to music after his first college year. A conscientious objector in the second world war, he was given an army band to run instead, studied with the classical composer Darius Milhaud and founded his first quartet with Paul Desmond in 1951.

What came to be known as Brubeck's "classic quartet" (comprising of Desmond, bassist Eugene Wright and the astonishing polyrhythmic drummer Joe Morello) was still three years away when the Oberlin concert was recorded, though drummer Ron Crotty and bassist Lloyd Davis played the show with brisk empathy.

At the same time the repertoire – variations on standard songs or bop anthems – gave no hint as to Brubeck's subsequent fascination with adventurous but very catchy time-signatures like 5/4 and 9/8, not to mention his adaptations of classical forms like rondos and fugues. Oberlin did, however, open a window on the core creative relationship that would soon ignite all those elements (Take Five was a collaboration, developed by Brubeck from a Paul Desmond theme), and revealed a wealth of harmonic and rhythmic references in the leader's own playing that would change the language of jazz.

In the 1950s, some hardcore jazz fans disliked Brubeck's music, seeing it as Europeanised and overly formal, something that flattered middle-class audiences but sold out its more fundamental virtues of soul, swing and blues. But from the late 1960s on, as jazz opened up to influences from other genres and cultures, sectarianism receded, and Brubeck began to be credited as a visionary. He was seen as an artist who took jazz into stimulating new contexts without destroying its essence.”


The following is from Jazz History Online Dave Brubeck Quartet: "Jazz At Oberlin" (OJC 46) by Thomas Cunniffe.


“I have vivid memories of the first time I heard Dave Brubeck’s “Jazz at Oberlin”.  I was attending high school, playing alto sax in the concert and stage bands, and just starting to learn about jazz. A friend lent me a 2-record set on Atlantic called “The Art of Dave Brubeck—The Fantasy Years”. Around 2 AM, while everyone in the house was fast asleep except for me, I gave up trying. I slapped on a pair of enormous Koss headphones, loaded a blank cassette into my tape deck and placed the first record on the turntable. Sitting there in the dark, I felt my jaw drop as the Brubeck Quartet launched into a blisteringly fast version of “The Way You Look Tonight” and Paul Desmond played a solo with more fire than I had ever heard from his alto.  


To be sure, I had heard recordings of the Brubeck Quartet, but none like this. To say Desmond had “Petrushka” on the brain during his “Way You Look Tonight” solo would be an understatement, but I didn’t recognize the recurring Stravinsky quote until later. What I did notice was how Desmond was taking that idea and turning it every which way as an integral part of his solo. The Columbia studio recordings I had heard prior to this left me rather unmoved by Desmond’s cool, pure tone and ideas, but “Jazz at Oberlin” made me a believer! Brubeck was no less impressive, matching Desmond’s fire with inspired solos throughout.  I was especially moved by his wonderful lyric solo on “These Foolish Things” where Brubeck echoed the styles of country blues, Gershwin and Bartok and finished off the solo with an emotionally overwhelming statement in block chords. The bass and drum team of Ron Crotty and Lloyd Davis played with more energy than I had heard with Brubeck’s later pairing of Eugene Wright and Joe Morello (my appreciation of the Wright/Morello team came with further listening). Then came the final tune, a nearly themeless version of “Stardust”. I was carried away by Desmond’s beautifully sculpted solo variation as the album came to a close. It was the perfect nightcap. I slept late into the morning.


This was the first college concert that Brubeck had recorded and issued. Brubeck had been warned by the college administrators that the students might not warm to his music, but the students proved them wrong, hanging onto every note and cheering madly at every solo. According to the liner notes, the Quartet played a two-hour concert, but only the 38 minutes of the original LP survives. In contrast, the other half of that Atlantic set was the Quartet’s concert at Brubeck’s alma mater, College of Pacific, and another hour of music from that concert has been issued in the last decade, including a version of “Stardust” even better than the one from Oberlin.


In the 1980s, when Fantasy started the Original Jazz Classics series, I grabbed copies of “Oberlin” and “College of Pacific” as soon as they came out, and finally retired my well-loved and much-played cassette copy. It was then that I discovered that the Atlantic LP had reversed the sides of the original Oberlin album (no matter—I still play side 2 first, as “Way You Look Tonight” and “Stardust” made such great bookends. Ironically, “Way You Look Tonight” was the closing number on the concert!). Paul Desmond had already passed away by the time I heard “Jazz at Oberlin”, but I’ve met Brubeck several times and he accompanied my college choir when we  sang a couple of his compositions in a concert. My current copy of “Oberlin” is the OJC CD which Brubeck autographed for me. For several reasons, including his age and the thin air in my home state of Colorado, I haven’t seen him in person for several years, but as he reaches his 91st birthday, he is still a superb pianist and I love to see him when he appears on television. He still inspires me, just as he and Desmond did on that early morning several years ago.”


Doug Ramsey also wrote about the events surrounding the Oberlin Concert in his biography of Paul Desmond,Take Five: The Public and Private Lives of Paul Desmond, Parkside Publications, Seattle, 2005.


    “A more significant development in the life of the Dave Brubeck Quartet—and the recorded legacy of Paul Desmond—came in 1953. In her role as manager, booker and publicist in the lean days before Brubeck signed with Joe Glaser's Associated Booking Corporation, Iola Brubeck acted on an idea that led not only to more work for the Quartet, but also to a major change in the relationship of jazz to its audience. As far back as the 1920s, jazz musicians played on college campuses, but almost always for restricted fraternity and sorority dances. The Brubecks' pioneering opened the college market as a source of work for jazz artists and helped open society's ears to wide acceptance of jazz as a mature cultural element.


    Mrs. Brubeck wrote more than one hundred colleges and universities, enclosing reviews of the Quartet's recordings and live appearances. She suggested that The Dave Brubeck Quartet would be ideal for campus concerts and offered a deal that appealed to student associations—a low fee for the band and a split of profits. A few bookings developed. Early on, the band often played in lecture rooms or cafeterias doubling as concert halls, with students wandering in and out during the performances. By the time Joe Glaser 's office took over the Quartets management, the system was working. The young agent Larry Bennett, lola said, "took the idea and ran with it."


    For their March, 1953, appearance at Oberlin College in Ohio, the Quartet found itself in the acoustically blessed chapel of an institution known for the quality of its music department. The audience knew what it was hearing and responded with enthusiastic appreciation. In a canny business move, exchanging broadcast rights for ownership of the master recording, Brubeck allowed the Oberlin campus radio station to tape and later air the concert. When Fantasy issued the performance as a long-playing record, a phenomenon was established: Jazz kept on going to college and Brubeck created an audience that has been loyal to him for decades.


    From his first chorus of improvisation on "These Foolish Things" in Jazz at Oberlin, Desmond sets the bar high for himself and the group. His flow of ideas through faultlessly executed double-time passages is fueled by rhythm that jets from somewhere inside him to contrast with the stately accompaniment of the rhythm section. His energy sets up Brubeck to glide into a solo of extraordinary melodic and rhythmic invention. In his 32 bars, Brubeck covers a dynamic range so broad that it brings to mind Joe Dodge's observation, "Dave's emotion; that's what I loved about his playing. He could go from double-piano to so loud he almost didn't have enough fingers."


    Ted Gioia has written of Desmond's playing at Oberlin, "He spits out rapid-fire lines like a tried-and-true bebopper, to the astonishment of all (not least the audience, which responds with rapturous applause). Rapid-fire, yes, but Desmond is no bopper here and not like one. Nor is he playing strictly in any other identifiable jazz idiom. At twenty-nine, he has reached what he was agonizing over four years earlier in his memos to himself and that long, painful letter to Duane, "beauty, simplicity, originality, discrimination, and sincerity." He has come through his apprenticeship to reach Whitney Balliett’s ideal; he has borrowed from his masters the bones on which to hang his own vision. He is the furthest thing from a mimic. "The Way You Look Tonight" is his masterpiece of the album, one of the great accomplishments of Desmond's career. The brilliance with which he creates the melodic content of his solo is breathtaking! He weaves a phrase from Stravinsky's "Petrouchka" through the fabric of the improvisation, but, like the quotes from a variety of songs that comprise other threads, it is just one element in a construction of musical thought so unified that the whole hangs entire before the listener like a picture in a gallery.


    Component parts aside, what drives this performance and invests it with much of its character is rhythm. Desmond's internal time sense to cranked up so high that by the end of his second chorus, he is swinging the band even harder than it was already swinging. Together, they belie the claim of Miles Davis and others who enjoyed sniping at the Brubeck group with allegations that it didn't swing. Following Brubeck's solo, he and Desmond have an intense round of counterpoint before ending with the tight unison line of the arrangement


    In the fast "How High the Moon" that ends the concert, Desmond laces his solo with phrases echoed in octave drops, so that he sounds like two halves of a duet. It was a device that he used extensively, often to humorous effect in the early Quartet but less frequently as the years went by. Fifty years later, Brubeck still marveled at his partner's abilities, and his idiosyncrasies.”


© Doug Ramsey, 2005


Brubeck Oral History Project


Dave and Iola Brubeck were interviewed for this oral history project on January 30 and 31, 2007. During the interviews, the Brubecks discussed a broad range of topics from throughout their lives. Some of the stories cover well-known episodes in their career, others are related here for the first time. The interviews were filmed at Ellington's Jazz Bar and Restaurant on Sanibel Island, Florida. The interviewers were Shan Sutton, Head of Special Collections at the University of the Pacific Library, and Keith Hatschek, Director of the Music Management Program in the University of the Pacific Conservatory of Music.


The Brubeck oral history project is a collaborative effort supported by the University of the Pacific Library, Brubeck Institute, and the Experience Music Project of Seattle. The excerpts presented here were selected from over five hours of interview footage. Access to the entire interviews and their transcripts is available at the University of the Pacific Library's Special Collections department, and the Experience Music Project.


Dave and Iola Brubeck on the legendary concert at Oberlin College in 1953


SS (Interviewer) = Shan Sutton
DB = Dave Brubeck
IB = Iola Brubeck


SS: Getting back to the early and mid '50s, I want to talk a little bit about a couple of albums, Jazz at Oberlin recorded 1953 at Oberlin College in Ohio really proved to be a landmark album that is still widely considered one of the more vital live jazz recordings in history. What made that performance so special? What was going on that night that was captured and still remains 55 years later so compelling? What was happening at Oberlin that night?


DB: You're right. The quartet was playing at its peak. I think it's the best live performance, or maybe performance, I've ever heard of Paul Desmond. He was just perfection on fire that night .


And, I was probably a little disappointed in that they wouldn't give me a good piano, and I had an old grand, but it was in terrible shape. And, I remember that so much thinking that they said, you know, "The jazz musician can't play the good piano."


SS: They gave you the second rate piano .


Russell Gloyd: Tell them what Dean said to you before you went on, that you weren't welcome here, and be prepared for a very negative reaction from the students .


SS: So, the Dean of the Conservatory of Music at Oberlin had to talk to you ahead of time to kind of prepare you for what might transpire ?


DB: Yeah, that we weren't welcome. And, you know, it's hard to believe because now almost every good conservatory has a great jazz department. But, in those days, they were still thinking that jazz was terrible music, and not to be associated with the conservatories .


One time I was told, "You're playing at this school. It's a Catholic school to train nuns and organists. And, I don't think you're going to have a good audience at all." So, we went out and started to play, and I remember the nun came out on stage to announce us, and was trying to soften up the situation .


After the first tune, that audience went crazy for us. And, it was because they were all studying Bach and counterpoint. So, we really laid on some Bach and counterpoint (laughter), the influence of Bach .


IB: And Paul's saying they were out there shaking their habits. (laughter)


DB: Yeah, that's what Paul said (laughter). They're out there shaking their habits .


SS: Was it a similar dynamic with the audience at Oberlin then, where --


DB: Oh, you have to listen to the recording. You hear that audience at Oberlin .


SS: So, despite the fact that you were prepped by the dean saying that you were going to face at least skeptical and perhaps hostile audience, do you think your classical references and influences that won them over? Was it just the sheer power of your improvisations that night? What was the catalyst behind that being such a dynamic performance ?


DB: Well, it's hard to know how things will just turn in the right direction for you. But, that night shouldn't have been a good night. But, my drummer had a fever of 102, and was not feeling well at all. But, he came alive right from the beginning, and started really playing. He was quite ill. I was worried about him before going on, you know, "Would he be able to play?" He played great .


IB: There was another factor in it, too, I think in that it was the students' Jazz Club who sponsored this concert. It didn't come from Oberlin College or from the conservatory. So, I think there was probably in the audience from the students, a little bit of this, "Boy, this has to work" you know, or else our idea of having a series of jazz artists come in is just going to go down the drain. And so, I'm sure there were some enthusiastic people in the audience spurring everybody on. But, there were a lot of faculty in the audience too from what I understand. And so, everyone sort of got swept up into it.


Interviewer
Shan Sutton


© University of the Pacific Library, Brubeck Institute

Dave Brubeck, Paul Desmond, Lloyd Davis and Ron Crotty were featured on the cover of the February 1954 issue of Metronome magazine.  The Dave Brubeck Quartet had been selected as the Small Band Winner in the All Star Poll. The quartet had also garnered first place positions recently in reader’s and critic’s polls at Down Beat magazine.  


THE DAVE BRUBECK QUARTET: JAZZ AT OBERLIN


© James A. Harrod, COPYRIGHT PROTECTED; ALL RIGHTS RESERVED/June 24, 2013

To be redirected to James Harrod’s extensively researched piece on the DBQ-Jazz at Oberlin LP click here.



Monday, April 2, 2018

The Rob van Bavel Trio - Anniversary

Part 2 Jazz Repertory - The Beau Hunks Saxophone Soctette

This feature is a continuation of the Jazz Repertory theme initiated on JazzProfiles with an earlier piece on The Raymond Scott Chesterfield arrangements commissioned and performed by the Paul Whiteman Orchestra in 1937-38 and recently recorded by the Metropole Orchestra with The Beau Hunks Saxtette.

JazzProfiles now focuses exclusively on The Beau Hunks Saxophone Soctette involving their two beautifully recorded BASTA CDs that deserve to be heard and appreciated by the widest possible audience.

It may also be helpful to keep in mind that during the early decades of the 20th century, the saxophone may have been the equivalent of today’s electric guitar in terms of popularity or to put it another way:” During roughly four decades, the saxophone evolved from a rather cumbersome marching band instrument into a hugely popular and versatile Jack of all Trades.”

As was explained in the earlier piece, in searching for a context in which to highlight this music, the editors at JazzProfiles came across the phrase “Jazz Repertory” as used by Jeffrey Sultanof in his essay of the same name that appears in Bill Kirchner, ed., The Oxford Companion to Jazz [New York: Oxford University Press, 2000, pp. 512-521].

According to Mr. Sultanof: “The phrase ‘jazz repertory’ has many definitions and dimensions. Perhaps the most basic is: the study, preservation and performance of the many diverse musical styles in jazz. In recent years, the phrase most often applies to big bands and jazz ensembles performing classic and new music written for reeds, brass, and rhythm section in various sizes and combinations.” [p.512]

And, as was the case with the earlier Dutch Metropole Orchestra and Beau Hunks Saxtette performance of the Paul Whiteman Orchestra’s Raymond Scott Chesterfield arrangements, the two retrospectives by the Beau Hunks Saxophone Soctette would seem to fit precisely into this definition.

A close listening to these two discs will also serve to reinforce Will Friedwald’s assertion to wit:

“We Yanks are long accustomed to the irony that it often requires Europeans to tell us what's best about our own culture.”


Here are the insert notes to The Beau Hunks Saxophone Soctette BASTA CD [30-9089-2] as written by Robert Veen, one of the group’s members [pictured second from the left, above] as well as graphics taken from the insert booklet. Following these will be the notes and illustrations to Contrasts, the Soctette’s sequel BASTA CD [30-9128-2]. [C] Copyright protect ed. All rights reserved.Another Musical Crusade for THE BEAU HUNKS SAXOPHONE SOCTETTE

THE BEAU HUNKS are a project band or “documentary orchestra." They began their crusade to preserve the works of forgotten pioneers of American music in 1992. The first project was devoted to the music of Leroy Shield and Marvin Harley, who composed music for the films of Laurel & Hardy, The Little Rascals and many other comedies from the Hal Roach Studios. Because no original sheet-music or recordings of this music were available, our arrangers had to make note-for-note transcriptions from tapes provided by Piet Schreuders, who had somehow managed to reconstruct Shield's compositions on tape from the soundtracks of countless Hal Roach talkies.

Between 1992 and 1995, this resulted in 4 CDs:

The Beau Hunks play the Original Laurel and Hardy Music, Vols. 1 & 2 [Basta 99003, 990251]


The Beau Hunks play the Original Little Rascals Music, Vols. 1& 2 [Koch Screen 8702, 89021].



In 1994, we directed our attention to the works of composer Raymond Scott [1908-1994] with the Beau Hunks Sextette. Scott's compositions for his Quintette from the 1930’s were, again, transcribed from archive recordings by our staff of arrangers and recorded on 2 CD's: Celebration on the Planet Mars [Basta 30-9056-21]


and Manhattan Minuet [Basta 30-9036-2].

The most ambitious project to date materialized in 1997 when the band was expanded to a 35-piece outfit for the purpose of performing Ferde Grofe’s symphonic Suites as composed for the Paul Whiteman band in the 1920s. This was the first project where we could actually use the composer's original scores and parts which were retrieved in the collections of Williams College and the Library of Congress by the Hunks' leader, Gert-Jan Blom. The results of this project are available as The Modern American Music of Ferde Grofe [Basta 30-9083-21].


The present album introduces the Beau Hunks in yet another setting. For this project the brass, strings and piano were omitted, while the woodwind and saxophone sections were dramatically expanded. The aim of this project was to pay tribute to the various saxophone bands from the first four decades of this century, when the saxophone was still a 'new' instrument.

The idea for this CD originated when we discovered the original arrangements for the Paul Whiteman Sax Soc-tette and Woodwind Ensemble in the Paul Whiteman Collection at Williams College, Massachusetts.

During the 1938/39 season, the Whiteman band had a weekly job on The Chesterfield Program, a very popular radio show sponsored by Chesterfield cigarettes. In these shows Whiteman presented the various sections of his large orchestra as independent groups. He had special arrangements made for "The Bouncing Brass," "The Singing Strings," "The Swing Wing," "The Woodwind Ensemble" and the "Sax Soc-tette."


The extremely virtuoso arrangements for this Soc-tette were made by Nathan Van Cleave for a lineup of nine saxes doubling on clarinets, accompanied by two guitars, bass and drums. Four of these Soc-tette recordings were released on 78rpm discs: "Blue Skies"/"What'll I Do?" [Decca 2698] and "I Kiss Your Hand, Madame"/"After You've Gone" [Decca 2467, both recorded 4/7/39]. Van Cleave also arranged Irving Berlin's "Tell Me, Little Gypsy" and "Crinoline Days" [Decca 2694] for the Woodwind Ensemble with a lineup of clarinets, bass clarinets, flutes, oboe, bassoon and rhythm section.

While rehearsing the original charts we noticed that various cuts had been made, due to either the limited duration of a 78rpm disc or the available airtime on the Chesterfield Program. On this CD you'll hear the complete, uncut versions as originally intended by Nathan Van Cleave.

Nathan Lang Van Cleave was born in 1910 in Cedar Rapids, Iowa. Together with Lynn Murray and George Gershwin, he studied composition with Joseph Shillinger. He started out as a trumpet player with Charlie Burnet, but concentrated mainly on writing and arranging. He was a staff arranger for Paul Whiteman's Orchestra, for Andre Kostelanetz, and for CBS New York. In 1945 he went to Hollywood to become head arranger at Paramount.

His numerous film scores include:
· Conquest of Space [1955]
· The Colossus of New York [1958]
· The Space Children [1958]

He also composed music scores for the TV series The Twilight Zone, Gomer Pyle USMC, Gunsmoke, Have Gun Will Travel, Perry Mason, Hogan's Heroes, I Dream of Jeannie, and Rawhide. He died in 1970.

During our research at Williams College we came across a woodwind arrangement of Raymond Scott's most popular tune, "The Toy Trumpet," by Irving Szathmary, another arranger from the Whiteman organization. This was never recorded commercially by Whiteman but used for radio broadcast only.

There are several interesting connections between Scott and Whiteman. Scott's Quintette and Whiteman' Orchestra were both regulars on the Chesterfield Program. (During 1938/'39 Whiteman had 17 arrangements made of Scott compositions for his band. These arrangements are now safely in our library and were recorded for CD release in January of 1999 by the Metropole Orchestra featuring the Beau Hunks Sextette.)

When Whiteman guitarist Artie Reyerson left the Whiteman band in 1940 he joined Raymond Scott's Orchestra and worked with him for many years. When Raymond Scott became A&R manager for Everest Records in 1957, he employed Van Cleave as the label's staff arranger. In this capacity, Van Cleave led an orchestra backing Scott's then wife Dorothy Collins on her 1958 album Won't You Spend Christmas With Me?


On the original Soc-tette recordings one can hear some outstanding soloists. We dedicate this CD to all of them - but especially to the Soc-tette's first alto and clarinet virtuoso, Alfred Gallodoro.

Over the past three years, Al Gallodoro has become a dear friend, Our saxophone players had worshipped Al's impressive recordings for many years and were surprised to find out that he was still alive. At the initiative of Robert Veen, Al Gallodoro, performed with the Beau Hunks at the 1996 Breda Jazz Festival before a flabbergasted audience. Mr. Gallodoro - who had to obtain a passport for his first trip ever outside the U.S. - moved several audience members to tears with his playing and impressed the musicians with his incredibly accurate memory and wonderful stories about his career and the people he had worked with, including Whiteman, Scott, Grofe, Shield, Toscanini and many others. Al is a living encyclopedia of American music history.


The following year, by public demand, Al returned to Holland for a series of concerts, TV & radio appearances and several Master-classes at music colleges. A funny thing occurred when Beau Hunks' sax players Ronald Jansen Heijtmajer and Robert Veen drove Al to the Hilversum Conservatory where he was to give a Master-class. Robert played the new Beau Hunks recording of the original Nathan Van Cleave arrangement of "Blue Skies" over the car stereo. Hearing the introduction and the first chorus, and believing he was listening to the Whiteman original, Gallodoro remarked, "Yeah, we were great in those days..." As the music continued, he "recognized" Artie Reyerson [guitar], Sal Franzella [clarinet], Art Drelfinger [tenor sax], and even his own virtuoso cadenza in the coda! Having played a couple of our recordings, Robert stopped the car and told Al that what they were hearing was not the original Soc-tette but the Beau Hunks' renditions of the same arrangements. Al couldn’t believe it and was raving about it for the remainder of the trip, thus giving us the best compliment we could have dreamed of.


Along with Nathan Van Cleave’s Soc-tette and Woodwind arrangements from the late ‘30’s you’ll find some pre-thirties material to illustrate the history and evolution of saxophone bands.

As a special tribute to John Philip Sousa, Ronald Jansen Heijtmajer wrote an arrangement of Anchors Aweigh for seven saxes, based on a transcription of an original solo by Rudy Wiedoeft who started the saxophone craze in the 1910s.

Clyde Doerr led a saxophone ensemble for more than 10 years. We included its greatest hit “Down Home Rag” from 1923, performed by nine saxophones and a banjo.

Ruben Bloom was a pianist/composer who worked with several jazz greats of the 1920s [Beiderbecke, Lang, Venuti, Dorsey, Trumbauer and other]. Ronald Jansen Heijtmajer arranged Bloom’s enchanting composition “Soliloquy” for seven saxophones.

Legendary cornetist Leon Bix Beiderbecke composed a Modern Suite for the Piano in Four parts: “In a Mist,” “In the Dark,” “Flashes,” and “Candlelights.” Since Bix recorded “In a Mist” as a piano solo in 1927, it has been recorded by a great variety of artists: Jess Stacey, Bunny Berigan & His Men, Ralph Sutton, The Swingle Singers, Ry Cooder, Lew Davies and Michel Legrand to name just a few. To our knowledge, this is the first arrangement of “In a Mist” for nine saxophones.

Mr. Jansen Heijtmajer scored “In a Mist” and “Candlelights” for the whole range of saxes, from the bass sax all the way up to the little soprano.["In the Dark" and "Flashes" are included on the sequel CD - Contrasts]

Tenor saxophonist Merle Johnston, well known teacher and performer on the instrument, led a saxophone quartet in the 1920s & 30s and had a column in the prestigious Metronome Magazine in the 1930s where he wrote articles and answered questions about saxophone playing. Only four sides were ever recorded by his magnificent group; listening to those recordings today it seems hard to imagine that they were recorded back in 1929. Robert Veen transcribed three of those four sides so they could be included on this album [Baby, Oh Where Can You Be?; Always in All Ways; Do Something].

In a way, this CD is the companion of Fingerbustin’ by Ronald Jansen Heijtmajer and the Beau Hunks [Basta 30-9058-2] from 1995, an exploration of the development and history of saxophone music before 1940 with repertoire taken largely from Mr. Jansen Heijtmajer’s extensive collection of novelty pieces for alto saxophone and piano.


We hope that these recordings will contribute to a better understanding and appreciation of the pioneers of saxophone playing and arranging.-Robert Veen, September, 1998


As one would imagine, in the interests of authenticity, special provisions were made in the making of these retrospective recordings and they are described in the insert notes as follows:

“About the recording … This album was recorded with pioneering back-to-basics technology, employing vintage microphones. Equipped with the low noise Telefunken triode AC 701k, the NEUMANN M49 condenser microphone works as a node amplifier feeding a transformer which is astatically wound to avoid hum pickup. The capsule consists of two sections, each with a vacuum gold-plated plastic diaphragm. Each half of the capsule works as a pressure gradient transducer with a cardioid characteristic. They can be switched to omni-directional, cardioid, or figure-of-8 on the power supply unit. The microphone capsule is rubber mounted on a Perspex cover. Underneath this cover is the microphone amplifier which, in turn, is mounted on a rubber plate. Due to this construction, the microphone is insensitive to low frequency disturbances such as floor vibrations due to walking.”

Perhaps the above falls under the heading of too-much-information, but it is interesting nonetheless as a classic definition of “labor of love.”


In 2003, Contrasts was issued by the Beau Hunks on BASTA CD [30-9128-2] and this sequel carried the following introductory explanation.

The Beau Hunks Saxophone Soctette was formed in 1997 after we discovered Nathan Van Cleave’s original “Soc-tette” arrangements in the collection of the Paul Whiteman Archives. Written half a century after the invention of the saxophone, the recordings of the Paul Whiteman Sax Soc-tette from 1938-’39 stand out as a landmark achievement in the development of saxophone music.


During roughly four decades, the saxophone evolved from a rather cumbersome marching band instrument into a hugely popular and versatile Jack of all Trades. In its early years, vaudeville groups, circus bands, novelty acts and early dance bands incorporated the relatively new instrument into their programs. Some of these ensembles, like The Six Brown Brothers, were offered recording contracts, which helped spread the growing popularity of the instrument even further.

In the 1920’s, Rudy Wiedoeft [1893-1940], a professional clarinetist who had deliberately made the switch to the saxophone several years earlier, crafted the first specialized compositions and arrangements for the instrument.


In collaboration with the Frank Holton Co. from Elkhart, Indiana, he modified the saxophone to facilitate higher action and smoother projection of the lower notes in order to accommodate his virtuoso style. Thanks to the pioneering contributions of Wiedoeft, the saxophone finally gained the respect of professional musicians as its voice became more mature. By the late 1920s a veritable “saxophone craze” was underway and there was an increasing demand for saxophones of all shapes and sizes, which were eagerly supplied by a rapidly growing industry.


Our previous album [BASTA 30-9089-2] includes all of Van Cleave’s original arrangements for the Paul Whiteman Sax Soc-tette and Woodwind Ensemble. This new album is a further exploration of the history and development of saxophone music in a wide variety of musical dialects and formats. You’ll hear the entire range of the saxophone family, from bass sax to sopranino, including the extremely rare Swanee-sax!”


In closing this Jazz repertory retrospective of early saxophone music by the Beau Hunks, Jeff Sultanof offers these further thoughts about the relevance and importance of such efforts [paragraphing modified].
“Jazz repertory represents and important direction and challenge for the future: to acknowledge the creative gifts of the men and women who created ensemble music for listening and dancing, and to prepare usable performance materials so that ensembles can easily play and study it.

Just imagine if materials from the baroque and classical eras of music had been allowed to collect dust in attics and languish in special collections and colleges and archives without editing and publication; by this time, they would have probably ceased to exist.

We are only now accepting that the music of the big band era is unique and warrants saving, not just in terms of American cultural history but of world music as well. It is imperative that this work continue for the sake of indigenous American music. Perhaps wide interest in this music is still several years away; yet the time to save it is now.”
[p. 521] 




Sunday, April 1, 2018

Part 1 of Jazz Repertory: Raymond Scott's Music, The Chesterfield Arrangements for the Paul Whiteman Orchestra and Their Revival by The Metropole Orchestra

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





THE METROPOLE ORCHESTRA
conducted by Jan Stulen and
featuring THE BEAU HUNKS SAXTETTE

“We Yanks are long accustomed to the irony that it often requires Europeans to tell us what's best about our own culture.” – Will Friedwald

The Raymond Scott Chesterfield arrangements commissioned and performed by the Paul Whiteman Orchestra in 1937-38 and recorded by the Metropole Orchestra with The Beau Hunks Saxtette is stunning music both in conception and execution. As beautifully reproduced on this BASTA CD, it deserves to be heard and appreciated by the widest possible audience.

In searching for a context in which to highlight this music, the editors at Jazzprofiles came across the phrase “Jazz Repertory” as used by Jeffrey Sultanof in his essay of the same name that appears in Bill Kirchner, ed., The Oxford Companion to Jazz [New York: Oxford University Press, 2000, pp. 512-521].

According to Mr. Sultanof: “The phrase ‘jazz repertory’ has many definitions and dimensions. Perhaps the most basic is: the study, preservation and performance of the many diverse musical styles in jazz. In recent years, the phrase most often applies to big bands and jazz ensembles performing classic and new music written for reeds, brass, and rhythm section in various sizes and combinations.” [p.512]

The Dutch Metropole Orchestra and Beau Hunks Saxtette performance of the Paul Whiteman Orchestra’s Raymond Scott Chesterfield arrangements would seem to fit precisely into this definition and, as such, become the initial Jazz Repertory feature on JazzProfiles. Other jazz repertory performances by both groups will be offered on future JazzProfiles.

What follows are the insert notes to the BASTA [30-9097-2] CD as written by the erudite, Will Friedwald.
 [C] protected. All rights reserved. Graphics added.

“The Raymond Scott boomlet of the ‘90s has already outlasted the “lounge music” fad (which resulted in acres of randomly-programmed reissues driven almost exclusively by their gaudy packaging) and will hopefully also survive the so-called “retro swing” movement (which continues to produce naught but warmed over rock and roll laced with ill-trained horn players paying misguided homage to Louises Jordan and Prima). It’s true that there are far fewer CDs available of Scott’s own performances than there ought to be, but Scott’s music dominates the mass media more at the millennium than at any other time since his initial 15 minutes of fame in the late 1930’s. You can’t watch any kind of programming on TV, from commercials to contemporary animation(not to mention much of the vintage contents of The Cartoon Network) without hearing “Powerhouse.” At venues all over (in New York at least), all manner of bands from The Knitting Factory to the Bottom Line and the Jewish Museum feature his work. Much of this has been due to the tenacity of Irwin Chusid, who’s served as the late composer’s posthumous rabbi for over a decade already, but Irwin would be the first to tell you that Scott’s music doesn’t need much pushing; you just lay down a few bars on the cats and recognition and delight will instantly set in. The stuff has a life of its own.

And yet Scott’s Quintette music of the ‘30s was hardly listened to or played by anybody (especially the composer himself) from the ‘40s to the ‘90s, only to be rediscovered around the time of Scott’s death in 1994. One obvious answer would have to be because of Carl Stalling: people know “Powerhouse” and “The Toy Trumpet” mainly from growing up with these melodies on television as accompanying arias for the wacky antics of wabbits and ducks. In the early 1960s, Scott composed three LPs worth of electronic music with the intent of quieting toddlers entitled Soothing Sounds For Baby (reissued on BASTA 90642, 90652, 90662), yet his Quintette music had already supplied the soundtrack for several generations of our collective childhood.

Yet the cartoon connection isn't the only reason. Quan­titatively speaking, Stalling made use of many more tunes, for instance, by Harry Warren, Warner Brothers own in-­house giant of the movie musical. Many Looney Toons and Merrie Melodies even took their titles from Warren's tunes. (Other slices of cartoon music rate the same recognition factor: the premiere episode of South Park quoted Harold Arlen's "I Love To Singa.") Thus the motivation behind the Scott resurgence can't be attributed entirely to the fami­liarity of the themes themselves.





What makes Scott so relevant to our times, ultimately, is the rhythmic accessibility of his work. Scott supporters lament that the composer is invariably given scant notice in histories of jazz (the inevitable reference to his Duke Elling­ton‑Cootie Williams homage "When Cootie Left the Duke"), but in truth, it would be difficult to consider the ‘30s Quintette music jazz in any except the broadest defini­tion of the term. Scott's groups may have used essentially the same instrumentation as Fats Waller and his Rhythm, but that was about as far as he went. The Quintette didn't utilize improvisation, it had no connection to the blues (not a necessary element of jazz, but it doesn't hurt to use blues harmonies if you want your music to be considered jazz), and it didn't swing. That is to say, it doesn't adhere to the rhythmic patterns codified for jazz by Louis Armstrong, then expanded upon by Benny Goodman, Count Basie and others for what became known as the "Swing Era." The Quintette music has a rhythmic drive of its own, and it "swings" in the same way that Bach or Hank Williams or Marvin Gaye can be said to swing, but Scott never tried to make it swing the way a swing band swings.

Jazz purists of the '30s decried that Scott's music wasn't strictly jazz even then. (While working on the original Raymond Scott Project in 1990, Irwin and I sent some tapes of Raymond's CBS acetates to an authority on Bunny Berigan, hoping to identify which tracks might contain that great trumpeter. Said authority was very helpful, but returned the tapes denouncing The Scott Quintette as nothing more than “junk music.") Today, however, the fashion in which Scott used rhythm, and in general avoided a jazz conception of time, ultimately works in his favor. Those wonderfully tricky, rinky‑dinky, mechanical sounding pieces fall very easily on the ears of contemporary listeners who've grown up with a rock and roll sense of time.




You'll note that I'm specifying "Quintette" music as opposed to “Raymond Scott Music." That's because Scott himself only made music that sounded like the '30s Quintette for a few brief Years. When he put together his own big band, starting in 1939, he only infrequently played his classic Quintette compositions and in general avoided making the Raymond Scott Orchestra sound like an augmented edition of The Raymond Scott Quintette. In the early ‘40s, Scott went in for mainstream swing in a big way, and his CBS studio orchestra was a legendary jazz organization that, to Scott's credit, was said to be the first to regularly employ jazzmen of all races side by side in a studio situation. There's even a tape somewhere of Ben Webster soloing with Raymond's orchestra and making “Powerhouse” swing like Duke Ellington.

However. If Scott wasn't playing the Quintette compositions with his own big band, plenty of others were. The tunes were especially popular in England, where "experimental” or “novelty” composers, such as Scott's unduly neglected colleague Reginald Foresythe, had long found favor. Popular dance orchestras like Ambrose ("Powerhouse”) and Harry Roy ("Dinner Music For A Pack of Hungry Cannibals”) crafted their own big band interpretations of classic Scott small group pieces. In Ameri­ca, even as dedicated a trio of proselytes for the cause of swing as Artie Shaw, Benny Goodman and Tommy Dorsey found “Twilight In Turkey" worthy of their admiration. The father of swing himself, Pops Louis Arm­strong, later recorded "Christmas Night In Harlem," right before that song became terminally un‑PC.

Yet bassist, researcher and producer Gert‑Jan Blom of the Beau Hunks has recently established that the biggest supporter of Scott's music from the musical mainstream, both figuratively and physically, was The King of Jazz him­self, Paul Whiteman.





In 1937, Whiteman was nearing the end of his second decade as the most celebrated bandleader in the nation. The former violinist began his career by hiring composer and arranger Ferde Grofe’ to all but invent the popular dance orchestra, and throughout the '20s, Whiteman's band, his physical girth and his ambitious vision for Ameri­can music matched each other for sheer size. He brought jazz‑influenced dance music to recordings, to the new medium of radio and, very early on, the concert hall. Along the way, Whiteman nurtured careers as varied as George Gershwin, Bix Beiderbecke and Bing Crosby.

Whiteman stayed on top‑continuing to score high ratings on radio deep into the swing era‑because he was always able to find something new. An early supporter of the long form, he commissioned Gershwin's “Rhapsody in Blue and continued to play extended works by everyone from Victor Herbert and Ferde Grofe’ to Duke Ellington and even a symphonic narrative by Rodgers and Hart. With Bing Crosby and Mildred Bailey, Whiteman defined the concept of the dance band vocalist. His was the first orchestra to create its own audio identity in the era of elec­tronic media, even including motion pictures. Whiteman played everything from the loftiest classical adaptations (even a "fantasia" medley of Wagner‑definitely not your basic foxtrot) to the hottest treatment of "Tiger Rag" that money could buy; from Hoagy Carmichael's gully low "Washboard Blues" to waltzes (like "Coquette") to silly novelties like "C‑0‑N‑S‑T‑A‑N‑T‑1‑N‑0‑P‑L‑E."

When Whiteman switched to Columbia Records in 1927, the company rewarded him by putting his potato­-headed caricature in full color on the labels of his discs. That drawing confirmed Whiteman's iconic status as the single best known figure in all of popular music, and he was only beginning to tumble from that pinnacle in 1937. The swing band boom, ignited by many of "Pops'” own alumni (most notably Jimmy and Tommy Dorsey) was beginning to steal some of Whiteman's formidable thunder. At first, Whiteman assumed that swing was just anot­her trend that he could assimilate into his presentations. In truth, he did launch a "swing wing" within his larger orchestra, a group that could dispense the same kind of hotter dance music that the newer bands were offering, and also premiered a number of jazz combinations from within his ranks, such as the Bouncing Brass, Swinging Strings and Sax Soctette. It took a while for it to dawn on Whiteman that such groups were beside the point ‑ that his whole concert presentation was irrelevant in a world that now wanted to forget its troubles by dancing to the hottest, fas­test and loudest music it could find.





But in 1937, Whiteman was still on top, and his new Chesterfield series for CBS was one of the most popular on the airwaves ‑ former employee Bing Crosby was one of the few who matched Pops in ratings. For Whiteman, Raymond Scott offered a whole new realm of possibilities. His tunes were now being heard everywhere (although not yet cartoons for a few more years), both in perform­ances by the Quintette and other bands. But Whiteman did everything in first class fashion: where other leaders could merely offer Scott's tunes, Whiteman's Chesterfield show brought listeners Scott himself (it helped that Scott spent most of his career under contract to CBS, under whose aegis the Quintette had been developed). The pianist and his six man fivesome became semi regulars on the series.




In total, Whiteman commissioned 18 different arrange­ments of Scott's most popular pieces (among them two very different treatments of "Powerhouse") from his orchestrating staff, which included Roy Bargy, Irving Szathmary, Nathan Van Cleave, Joe Glover, Russ Case, and Fred van Eps. All 18 charts were heard on the series between December 1937 and December 1938, but although Whiteman was recording prolifically for Decca at the time, he recorded almost none of these works. (The only discs that have come to our attention are "The Toy Trumpet" and "Minuet In jazz," released by "Paul White­man's Swinging Strings." "Christmas Night in Harlem" is an exception on several levels, it's a song with lyrics and not a Quintette instrumental.
The Quintette never recorded it, but Whiteman did in 1934. Thanks to Whiteman, "Christmas Night in Harlem" became a much‑reprised duet feature for Johnny Mercer and Jack Teagarden as well as landing Scott his major success as a songwriter from then up to the time of his Broadway show, Lute Song.)


It's likely that some or even all of the original CBS bro­adcasts were transcribed (several LPs worth of material spotlighting Jack Teagarden has, thankfully, been availa­ble) but no aircheck of the Whiteman‑Scott works has come to light. Therefore, when the Metropole Orchestra (one of the finest large jazz ensembles in all of Europe) combined forces with The Beau Hunks Sextette (who've already recorded two definitive discs of Raymond's Quintette arrangements, Celebration on the Planet Mars, Koch KOC 3 7907-2, and Manhattan Minuet, BASTA 90362) it meant the chance to document these orchestrations both for the first time and in the best possible way. What you'll hear in this disc is a revelation in both careers.





A few pages ago, we went to great pains to discuss how the Quintette music was essentially not jazz and shouldn't be expected to swing like, say, Fletcher Henderson (or even John Kirby, Scott's darker "brother"). Apparently no one told the Whiteman arrangers. While keeping more or less true to Raymond's original rhythmic conception, the time feel has been pushed ever so gently more towards that of a conventional big band, and the result is a middle ground that will satisfy both ends.

The only listeners who might be disappointed are those died‑in‑the‑wool Raymondites who want a big band treat­ment of "Twilight In Turkey" to sound like an exact elabo­ration of the way the Quintette played it. Of all 18 tracks here, only one of the two versions of "Powerhouse" make the listener think he's hearing four Dave Wades playing trumpet in unison or a whole reed section doing what Pete Pumiglio and Dave Harris did in the original. Most of the time, the arrangers took considerable leeway with Scott's compositions. Knowing how fussy the composer was regarding his music (particularly in this, his pre‑jazz chase), it's doubtful that Scott himself enjoyed these treat­ments much, but nonetheless they are exciting, creative interpretations of tunes that do much to make the Quintette music work in a genuine swing band setting.




The Scott‑Whiteman collaboration, in essence, repre­sents a meeting of two traditions: Scott comes out of the era's trend of novelty or experimental jazz‑pop composers (the terms were essentially interchangeable at that point) such as Foresythe and Red Norvo; Whiteman was the grandfather of radio "program" music, a genre associated by that time with Andre Kostelanetz. Although Kostelanetz (like Percy Faith) became a muzak maven later on, his presentations in the '30s were considerably more challenging, a fact which can be verified by the presence of Claude Thornhill on his arranging staff. The traditions had met before; Whiteman had recorded Foresythe's "Serenade to a Wealthy Widow” and Kostelanetz had done an elaborate treatment of Don Redman’s “Chant of the Weed.” (The only Maestro to continue making this kind of music into the television decade, and not take it straight into the realm of elevator arias, was probably Leroy Anderson).

Therefore, in addition to making the Scott tunes swing a’ la Benny Goodman, the Whiteman arrangers also succeed in making the charts work as “program” music. Scott’s penchant for exotica was especially useful in this regard. Over the decades, a sort of aural folklore had clustered around the concept of sounds from other than white, western sources; by the ‘30s, Hollywood score composers were relying on even-then-old notions, clichés even, of what Native American and middle eastern music was supposed to sound like.

Scott embraced these hand‑me‑down ideas and made them a solid part of his repertoire: when he wasn't depic­ting the mechanical rhythm of a factory or the no‑less mechanical walk of a penguin, chances are he was depic­ting some far away place with a strange‑sounding name. Indeed, probably one of the reasons Scott was tapped to write Lute Song was because of his fondness for "world music" style themes. Although none of the Quintette pieces was overtly oriental, Lute Song at last gave him plenty of opportunity to compose such chinoiserie.




Even Raymond himself would have had to admit that the Whiteman Orchestra was, in some instances, better equipped to carry out his artistic vision than the Quintette. Where the six‑piece group can simulate only a handful of wooden Indians, the full band puts you in mind of an entire tribe. The same is true of the other geographically‑driven works‑the Whitemanites expand "Dinner Music for a Pack of Hungry Cannibals," "Twilight In Turkey," and "Egyptian Barn Dance" to Cecil B. DeMille‑like propor­tions, with hundreds of extras up to their “buttskis” in red Jell-O. "Siberian Sleighride" opens with near‑silence, and gradually the sleigh bells theme gets louder, as if the sleigh itself were barely visible on the mountain slope and slowly coming into view. The orchestra's expanded potential for dynamics renders one of Scott's more cinematic devices a lot more effective.

"Tia Juana" may be Scott's most unusual travelogue; he wrote it some years before the Quintette, and it has the least to do with the Quintette music of all the pieces here. Scott draws a connection between those two pentatonic cousins, Spanish music and middle eastern music. While the Quintette never recorded it, Desi Arnaz and his Babalu band actually did. Without so much as a suggestion of the Quintette's trademark herky‑jerky beat, this piece comes most closely to sounding like an authentically ethnic piece, offering Scott's approximation of a bolero.

The Whiteman orchestrations also call attention to the concept of interpretation. One Scott piece not done by Whiteman, "In an 18th Century Drawing Room," offers Scott's treatment of a melody written by Mozart for one of his piano sonatas; likewise, "The Happy Farmer" was in­spired by Robert Schumann (it's a theme that you'll hear, in another re‑interpreted form, in the background to the opening scene of The Wizard Of Oz). "Tia Juana," like­wise, is Scott's version of a bolero, while "Mexican Jump­ing Bean" (another oddity, Scott didn't record this piece until October 1939, on his first session with "His New Orchestra") has Scott suggesting a typical south‑of the-­border theme. The Whiteman arrangers then re‑interpret Scott's own interpretations of these familiar motives and concepts, and elaborate upon Scott's own elaborations.

Lastly, Scott's music is loaded with conflict: often he sets it up as kind of a culture clash‑"A (presumably American) Boy Scout In Switzerland"‑what would he be doing there? "Christmas Night in Harlem"‑un‑PC as it was for Raymond to suggest it back in 1935, that was not the locale where the holiday was normally depicted in pop culture, then or now. "Minuet In Jazz"‑that about says it all right there. On "Twilight In Turkey," Scott choreo­graphs the contrast between an original theme of his own devising and another "received" melody, an archaic motif associated with the faux‑middle east in carnivals and vaudeville going back at least to the 19th century, a piece sometimes known as "Snake Charmer" and often encum­bered with a lyric concerning the absence of pants in the sunny side of France.





Such contrast, it's almost needless to say, is grist for the mill for a larger jazz ensemble, and as a result the battle between the two warring themes of "Turkey" has never sounded more exciting. Likewise, the dichotomy between the two ideas described in the title of "Minuet in Jazz," with the Whiteman crew (or, rather, the Metropolites) illustrating the difference between the symphony and the swing band. "Egyptian Barn Dance" essentially pivots around a series of exchanges between the full ensemble and the drummer; "Suicide Cliff," which may be the sleeper sensa­tion of the current collection, is a dark, noirish theme that Scott never recorded. Although "Egyptian" exists in a Quintette version, after hearing the BH6‑Metropole per­formance you'll agree that both times properly belong to Scott’s orchestra oeuvre. As "Reckless Night on Board an Ocean Liner" and other pieces show, the Whiteman arrangers make a much greater use of background themes and countermelodies than was possible in the six‑piece group. Victor Herbert's "March of the Wooden Soldiers" can be heard in the background to Scott's fairyland foray, "The Toy Trumpet." The growling trumpet also gets considerably bluesier than Dave Wade by himself could ever hope to be on the blues theme of "Toy Trumpet."

What's also remarkable is that all this unique music was written, performed once or twice on the air and then forgotten, all within a one year period, By 1940, both Scott and Whiteman were no longer making noises that sounded anything like this ‑ both had given in to the swing thing and were individually leading two of the best bands in the contemporrary style (coincidentally, the often excellent recordings that both leaders made in that period are equally unduly neglected). Scott's 1940 big band, included future salon music auteur Hugo Winterhalter on clarinet and tenor, as well as, future band­leader and driver of the Woody Herman rhythm section, Chubby Jackson. The Quintette had already employed CBS house musician Johnny "Drummer Man" Williams (who had recorded with them under his own name, play­ing more straight-ahead stuff), and the drummer's son, pianist and composer‑John Williams, would grow up to win Oscars for his movie music and to succeed Arthur Fiedler as the conductor of The Boston Pops Orchestra. It would complete a nice full circle if The Pops would mount a pro­gram of the Whiteman‑Scott orchestrations, hopefully in conjunction with the Beau Hunks, as the Metropole does here.

We Yanks are long accustomed to the irony that it often requires Europeans to tell us what's best about our own culture. In documenting the remarkable collaboration of Raymond Scott and Paul Whiteman, these Dutchmen have rendered a major service to American music.”

‑ WILL FRIEDWALD
New York City, June, 1999

“Jazz repertory represents an important direction and challenge for the future: to acknowledge the creative gifts of the men and women who created ensemble music for listening and dancing, and to prepare usable performance materials so that ensembles can easily play and study it. Just imagine if materials from the baroque and classical eras of music had been allowed to collect dust in attics or to languish in special collections in colleges and archives without editing and publication; by this time, they would probably have ceased to exist. We are only now accepting that the music of the big band era is unique and warrants saving, not just in terms of American cultural history but of world music as well. It is imperative that this work continue for the sake of indigenous American music. Perhaps wide interest in this music is still several years away; yet the time to save it is now." Sultanof, p. 521.