Tuesday, February 8, 2022

Carmen McRae - The Art Taylor Interview

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


"A bible for anyone who considers himself serious about jazz. It does for jazz what the Paris Review series 'Writers at Work' did for creative writing: It reveals the processes involved as well as the people."

—International Herald Tribune


"Anyone wishing to know what jazz musicians were talking about among themselves at the turn of an angry decade (and are likely talking about still) will have to look here. And what they have to say in these pages is certain to affect the way we listen to jazz and the ways in which we think (and write) about what we hear."                      

—Francis Davis, Philadelphia Inquirer


The following interview can be found in Arthur Taylor NOTES AND TONES Musician-to-Musician Interviews, Expanded Edition [1993].


Notes and Tones is one of the most controversial, honest and insightful books ever written about jazz. It consists of 29 no-holds-barred conversations which drummer Arthur Taylor held with the most influential jazz musicians of the '60s and 70s—including:


Art Blakey          Ornette Coleman        Hampton Hawes      Max Roach

Betty Carter       Miles Davis                Freddie Hubbard      Sonny Rollins

Don Cherry        Kenny Dorham           Elvin Jones              Nina Simone

Kenny Clarke     Dizzy Gillespie           Carmen McRae        Randy Weston


As a black musician himself, Taylor was able to ask his subjects hard questions about the role of black artists in a white society. Free to speak their minds, these musicians offer startling insights into their music, their lives, and the creative process itself. This expanded edition is supplemented with previously unpublished interviews with Dexter Gordon and Thelonious Monk, a new introduction by the author, and new photographs.


Arthur Taylor has drummed with Coleman Hawkins, Bud Powell, Sonny Rollins, Charlie Parker, Miles Davis, John Coltrane, Thelonious Monk, and dozens of others. He has been called "one of the great drummers to come out of the fertile Harlem bebop scene" (The New York Times) and "one of the best bandleaders living or dead" (Stanley Crouch, The Village Voice). His band, Taylor's Wailers, has recorded several albums, and is based in New York City.


Please keep in mind as you read this that the interview took place in Cologne, Germany on October 30, 1970.


CARMEN McRAE - “We were happy in the days of Fifty-second Street."



“I imagine my interest in singing must have started when I was a baby. My father was a very musical man. Not a performer, but someone who loved good music. I don't remember this, but I'm [old that as a child, I used to know all the popular tunes of the day, like most children do today because of listening to music that's being played constantly on radio and television. I found out later on that there were two or three relatives of mine who were musically inclined. I mean musically inclined to the point of having good-sounding voices. They could have been singers if they had wanted to be, but I guess they never did. So maybe that's where whatever musical talent I have came from.


I'm the only one in my family who is in this business. I have been fortunate; they all wished me well and they might have wished me their talent. Their talent and maybe a bit of my own has helped me get where I am today. I had to become one of two things in life: someone who was musically inclined and good enough to be able to perform or else a good audience of music. I just happen to be a performer.


When I was still in my teens, I met a woman who became my idol. She was my idol then and continued to be my idol; though she is dead now, she still is my idol. That's Billie Holiday. I met Lady when I was very young, and she was one of the most impressive women I have ever met in my life. She really scared me as far as singing was concerned. She seemed so utterly perfect to me that I felt anything after her would be anticlimactic. 


Consequently I was afraid of becoming what I had hoped to become at an earlier stage in my life. That was a very important phase to me. After that I had some minor experiences with Benny Carter's band, Mercer Ellington's band and Count Basie's band, just short stints which really couldn't influence me much because I was too young. What helped me was Billie Holiday, which happened at a very early stage in my life.


The next thing was going to Chicago [sings]: "Sorry that I can't take you." I'm getting carried away! Anyway, I went to Chicago and liked the city. In order to stay, I had to make a living. A friend of mine who was an ex-chorus girl knew I could play and sing, which I would do just for friends, not professionally. She said: "Why don't you take a job playing and singing?" I said to her: "Lulu, that sounds great, but I don't know if I'm capable." She said: "I know someone who wants a girl singer and piano player. If you go and you don't make it, at least you tried." I said: "It's hard for a woman like myself, who is an Aries, to take a defeat. I would rather hear nothing than hear no." She convinced me, I went, and the man there was beautiful to me. I will never forget him. He gave me a job for two weeks with a two-week option to play the piano and sing. He advanced me money to join the union. I stayed two weeks, and he picked up the option.


I realized that my piano playing was very limited, because I had never intended to become a real pianist except just to play for myself or to rehearse a tune. It became essential to play better. I stayed in that job for seventeen weeks. During that time I hired a piano, and as my repertoire was very shallow, I rehearsed every day until my repertoire grew bigger. I stayed in Chicago and worked there for three and a half years, which was the greatest experience I could ever have had. I don't care that it happened in Chicago. I don't care where it happened, as long as it happened. I found out I could make a living playing and singing. My idols were great pianists like Teddy Wilson and Art Tatum, so I could not be fooled by my own piano playing at all. My piano playing was just a means to get where I wanted to get as a singer.


How important do you think it is for a singer to know something about the 

piano?


Going by my experience, it's one of the most important things. I don't believe I would have whatever reputation I have today if I had not had any knowledge of piano. That experience of studying music is what put me where I am today. Without it I would perhaps not even be singing, or if I had become a singer, it might not be as impressive as whatever it is I do now. I have said this for years, and I still think it is extremely important. It is important if you want to be a lasting artist. Any artist who really knows what he or she is doing musically will last. I think it's the nonprofessional professionals who fade out. They earn a lot of money in a minute, yet they don't make it somehow. After they're gone, people don't even remember who they were. That's why it's very important to know your craft.


What would you recommend to someone trying to start a singing

career?


There is no set example you can give anybody. It's a combination of luck, talent and being at the right place at the right time, with the right people listening. They should have some sort of musical knowledge. It doesn't have to be the piano. It can be a guitar or a harp, but I think piano is the simplest if you want to be a singer.


Are you religious? If you don't mind my asking the question.


If I didn't want to answer it, A.T., I'd say so. If being religious is believing in a Supreme Being and that all our lives are destined before we enter on this earth, and believing that fate has a lot to do with our lives, if that is being religious, then I am. If being religious is going to church or getting on my knees and praying to a Supreme Being every night, or reading any sort of Scripture in regard to a Supreme Being, regardless of whether it be Allah or God, then I'm not religious. I'm not an atheist. I was a Catholic as a child, and to me Catholicism is a farce! I gave it up. I have not found anything to delve into other than the Baha'i faith that Dizzy Gillespie talked about to me, but I don't know.


I feel very comfortable the way I am. Rather than get involved in something that is seventy percent good for me and thirty percent not right, I'd rather not get involved in anything. I would like to embrace whichever bit of each faith suits my way of thinking. My main concept of anything we can consider godly would be to treat my fellow human beings, regardless of what color or creed or religion they might practice, as individuals. Let me put it this way: A lot of individuals are not human beings. I'd rather treat an individual the way I get vibrations from him as a human being. Consequently I have to practice it myself. I cannot expect my fellow brother or sister to be decent if I don't try to be.


You do meet people you don't like and that you're not compatible with. People meet me and dislike me, too, for some reason. I think when people feel like that, they should avoid each other, because life is too short to have to tolerate someone just for the sake of tolerating them, I don't think it's fair to them or to their intelligence. If you cannot make it with someone, then you both should go your own way. You've got to be fair to yourself before you can be fair to anybody else!


When you are onstage, are you singing for yourself, for the musicians or for the audience?


I'm glad you asked me that. That's one of the most important things in the world. I can answer this question better than a lot of other questions. I have to sing for myself. Let's look at this thing in the proper light. I am involved because I'm the one who is doing what I'm doing. Right? I'm only doing what I do because I want to please the people who have taken the time to come and hear me. I have to do it for somebody, because that's the only way I can find out whether I was right or wrong to feel good about whatever I've been doing. Consequently I sing for the musicians, too, because I need them to play competently behind me, doing what I want them to do for the people that are sitting there. So it really is a combination of doing it for everyone. If the musicians are good — and they have to be for me to feel good — I'm going to do my best for the audience; so it's really a combination of musicians, myself and audience.


I want the musicians to like it, too, 'cause if they don't like it they're not going to be able to play for me, even if they are competent. If they don't like what I'm doing and if they're only playing for the sake of the bread [money], it's no good. They've got to dig me. I dig them, 'cause I'm hiring them. Right?


Of course, my main way of earning a living is pleasing my audience, so that I can pay the cats and get paid, too, so I can go home happy. Actually it's a combination of pleasing everybody. If you can start out onstage pleasing each other, ninety-nine percent of the time you please the audience, too. Audiences know who you are, they know what you do and they have come to hear you in person. You have those three things going for you before you open your mouth. You only have to do your thing, 'cause that's what they came for. If you do it well and you're not inebriated or under the influence of anything, you'll be sincere, which is all you need.


It's such a beautiful business we're in, A.T. I guess all the arts are beautiful, but I think we have a better chance of feeling good about ourselves, and we have more incentive to go on, because we get confidence from the people who come to listen to us. The music business is one of the finest businesses in the world. You make contact with people immediately, and they tell you what they like and what they don't like, and that gives you a sense of what you're doing. You might want to go in one direction and they say no, they like the other way, so you go in the other direction. That's what you're really there for, to entertain. If I had to sing for myself, I would never hear a note, because I'm not here for that.


Do you consider yourself a jazz singer?


That's a question I have been asked many times. I am jazz oriented; if it weren't for jazz I wouldn't be anywhere. I only want to be categorized as a good or a bad singer. I originally started as a so-called jazz singer. I was dubbed that somewhere along the line, and I never really thought about it. I really didn't start out to be a jazz singer; I just started out to sing. But it was awfully hard, as it is for any musician, to play and not to improvise in some sort of way on the melody. If doing that made me a jazz singer, then yes, that's what I am. I have also done many tunes that couldn't possibly be called jazz tunes and made many single records that were not jazz.


Either people like what I do or they don't. They can say: "She has a good voice, but I wish she wouldn't do ..." I don't care, but they must not categorize me. I know what people expect when you sing a song, and if you scat, that's jazz; that's understandable. I hear people who are not categorized as jazz singers, such as Ray Charles, Nancy Wilson, Tony Bennett, Frank Sinatra and many others who are all making exorbitant amounts of money. I haven't heard them sing one song the way it was written yet. If they can deviate from the melody, which is what is categorized as jazz, where does it begin and where does it end? What makes one person a jazz singer and another one not a jazz singer? Is it a question of how much improvising they do? I don't understand it.


Today we have contemporary music, a lot of which is fantastic. A lot of it is also garbage. I'm very happy about contemporary developments in music, because to keep doing all the rest of my life eight bars and a channel and eight bars, and 4/4 time and 3/4 time, would have driven me crazy. I'm happy we have 7/8 time and 5/4 time; I'm happy we're saying something different than moon June and love dove. I love what I'm doing now. I do Beatles tunes. Incidentally, I think they are excellent songwriters. I don't think they are great at singing or doing their thing, but their songs are fantastic. If they want to call them jazz, I don't mind just as long as they call me to do it.


Have you ever had any bad write ups?


Well, you don't get all your write ups everywhere you go, but I don't remember having had a critic that really spoke ill of me completely. I've seen what I consider bad write ups. I have had critics who didn't particularly like a certain thing I did but who really loved something else I did. The only thing I find wrong with critics is that they are inclined to describe what the singers had on and what their hair looked like. I'm sure that's important, and I'm not saying that's not good, but I don't think it has anything to do with the music. I think it's the singing that should be described. If it's criticized it should be criticized by someone who is an authority on the music you're playing and not someone who comes up to you and asks you the name of your latest album. Then they tell you about an album they had ten years ago. How can they judge an artist if they're not aware of what he has accomplished up to that point?


Everybody in the world wants good write ups. If somebody is going to criticize, let him be someone who knows his subject. I'm sick of people who are critics for a newspaper and who don't know a thing about what the artist is concerned with. Everybody gets a bad writeup now and then, so at least let it be from someone who is really unbiased. It's not easy, because human beings have traits they cannot live without, and one of them is being biased.


Let's say I'm a critic and I've come to review you; before I walk in through the door, I'm in love with your playing anyway. So you're ahead of yourself, and that isn't truthful either, any more than when someone who doesn't like you walks in and you've got two strikes against you. It's awfully hard to find someone who is really down the middle and unbiased, walking in to do a

completely truthful criticism of someone's art. You also have to remember that however good or bad criticism is, it's only done by one person — his own opinion, that's all you'll get.


What do you think about the Black Panthers?


I have a second cousin, a young lady, who is a Panther. Oddly enough, I'm very proud of her, because she believes in what she is doing. If a lot of us believed in something, we would be better off. In my view, in my eyesight, in my opinion, the Panthers are young men who are trying to right a wrong that's been wrong for a long time. But they're trying to do it in the shortest space of time, which is fruitless. Now that's my opinion, but I think they are more manly than a lot of men I've met, because they are willing to either get things right or to die. There is nothing more beautiful to me than people who believe in something, who have been in slavery for so long and who want to come out of it, wanting to do it and getting what they want or else dying for it. There are a lot of people who want a lot of things but who are not willing to die for it. They'd rather compromise, and there is no compromise with the Panthers.


They have gone about doing a lot of things that I don't particularly condone, but then I say to myself, if I were their age, if I had their knowledge ... I found out that they were super intelligent young men when I did a benefit for them to help raise money for Panthers who had been arrested very unjustly and had not been given bail because of something they thought the Panthers were going to do.


These Panthers were indicted for planning to blow up something. Well, that's a lot of nonsense. Say the government was right to arrest them, but they left them without bail or with exorbitant bails. It was like they were complete saboteurs of their country. I don't believe that. They are only looking for their rights, because they know life is short and we all need to live as human beings. In our country, the country we're born in, the country we pay taxes in, the country they want us to fight and die for, it's only right that these youngsters and everybody involved who are Americans should all enjoy the same benefits, I don't care what faith, creed or color. Why should some of us be expected to die for our country and then live in our country and really literally die in it. A lot of young people tend to be violent and maybe they have a right to be; I am not here to judge them but only to judge what I feel is right for me. I can't say what's right for you. If you think you ought to go out and kill seven people and I can't talk you out of it, go ahead, as long as I'm not one of the seven! I think the Panthers were treated very unfairly, and I wanted to do something for them, however little. I did it, and I'd do it again if they were right. If they were wrong, I wouldn't do nothing! I wouldn't care if it was my mama. Wrong is wrong!


Do you find traveling for your work a strain?


Yeah, it's a drag. I'm getting tired of it now because I've done it for so long. I loved traveling when I first started, but it's like anything else. I don't want to sit home too long, either. You try to find a happy medium, which I guess doesn't exist, anyway. I like to travel and I don't like to travel; I do it and I don't think about it. After I get where I am going, it's all worth it if the music is good and the people like what I do.


Tell me your impression of Bud Powell.


It's funny, but I think I got to know Bud better in Paris than I ever did in America. I don't know why. In fact, I don't think Bud and I ever exchanged more than fifty words in the many years that we knew each other. Sometimes I wondered if he even knew who I was. It really didn't bother me, because I knew who he was. I always loved him, and I still do. He was a phenomenal pianist, a cat whose potential never really got where it could have gotten to. I think our way of American life has a lot to do with it. Bud was looking for something and he didn't find it. If he had lived a little longer, he would probably have found what he was looking for. His piano playing to me was always a little frantic, never relaxed. He never relaxed, as though he was trying to do so much and get it all out because he did not have enough time to fool around. Even in ballads he had to get in so many notes, as though he might not get another chance to play the same tune again. He always gave me that impression. Art Tatum, great as he was and 93,000 years ahead of his time, was always relaxed when he played a ballad, however many arpeggios he made. Bud gave me the impression he had to get it all in right now. Every time you heard him it was another artistry, something else. I loved him; I hear things of his today being played and I ask who it is and they answer Bud Powell, and I say yeah, that was beautiful!


What were your impressions of Charlie Parker?


Yard was without a doubt my very favorite musician of all time. My favorite musician now is Dizzy. But Yard, I still hear things of his today that are so phenomenal I don't believe it. If they could take the background out of some of the things he did with strings or big bands and just put in a really up-to-date group, it would sound as though he had recorded it last week. In my estimation no one has caught up with this man. If he were still alive and doing what he did some twenty years ago, even if he never played anything other than what he was playing then, he'd still be up to date. He was one of the biggest musical influences in the world.


We were talking about Muhammad Ali earlier, and you got excited.


Let me tell you about this cat. Muhammad Ali is one of the nicest men I've ever met in my life. I met him for the first time in London, when I was doing a show called the Eamon Andrews show. On the show were Lucille Ball, Noel Coward, Muhammad Ali, Tom Jones and myself. People in London love Muhammad Ali to death. He sat on the panel and talked and he was extremely amusing with his answers. After the show, when we all went upstairs to have drinks and eats, that's when I really got to talk to him. This man is not at all like his public image. It's like a play or a mask that he puts on for certain things and then takes off as soon as he can be himself. He is a beautiful, soft-spoken, humble young man, besides being one of the greatest athletes I've ever had the pleasure of feeling. I felt his arms and legs and I have to say it was out of sight. It was just marvelous! He was a beautiful man who first of all respected women and particularly black women, which I loved, I adored that. He was very attentive and not fresh, but just as a man and a gentleman should be.


And then I saw him again when I did a thing called Operation Breadbasket in Chicago for the Reverend Jackson. He was there and we talked. I'm so happy they agreed to let him continue to do his craft, which he does so well. He has always been the champion, as far as I'm concerned. When they took the championship away, it wasn't taken away by another man, so consequently he was still champion to me. I hope he can continue to do his thing, because it helps so much to see a black man be champion and honestly be the champion, because that's exactly what he is.


What did you think when I asked if I could interview you?


I was really very pleased to know you were into something that we needed. To do what you're planning to do is really necessary, so that people will be enlightened about us, the things we do and think. I don't give a damn about older people, because they're into their thing and their minds are made up. What I'm interested in are the kids. I find the kids today so beautiful; they fight for anything they believe in, they're in sympathy with all the minorities, which is what we are called. The young kids are for anything that's right, and they'll get out and help you fight for what is right, for what you believe you should have. They are the ones I'm trying to get to. One of the greatest compliments I've had in this business is looking up and seeing young people in my audience.


I have always thought of myself as being a very sophisticated type of singer, talking only to people who have lived a little bit. But sophistication, I found out, is not for those who have lived any particular length of time; some of them are the dumbest people in the world. Sophistication has to do with the way you think, the way you want to live. It has to do with people thinking the same way about the same things. If it happens to be a teenager, then right on!


I have done a lot of things where I've had college kids who were so together that I was curious. Let me give you an example: I did a couple of one-nighters in the Catskill mountains, which caters mainly to vacationers. When you work at one of those places, you have a captive audience; in other words, they come on Saturday night and that's when the entertainment is. They come whether they dig you or not. I got compliments, of course, from the mothers and the dads who were in their late thirties and so on. But the thing that thrilled me most was having their fourteen-year-old kids come up to me and say, "Miss McRae, I really enjoyed that. I have two of your albums," and they could name them. I wonder what I do at my level that can get to a fourteen-year-old. Today I do some rock things and what we call contemporary music. I only do the ones I identify with. The kids say to me: "We love you because you're so sincere." I can't ask for anything more than that. I try to be sincere, but how do they realize that at fourteen? You see, that's the thing about kids today.


They come out of their mother's womb so completely together and so much more intelligent. Who knows; when we were kids, if we had seen what they see, we would perhaps be as active as they are. Times change, things change and people change. If we had not become aware of fighting for civil rights in 1954, which is not so long ago, who is to say that we would actually have felt so vehement about it. I think certain times breed certain things.

We were very happy in the days of Fifty-second Street. We didn't think of the things we think about today, did we? The one who really made it prominent was our Martin Luther King. He changed the whole economic structure of Alabama. That was the beginning, and it all stemmed from that. We all knew then that it wasn't right, the things that were being done to us. But nobody really got up and said let's sit in, let's picket here, let's boycott this. I'm sure we all thought of it, but we didn't do it en masse. It was never discussed like it is today. Today it's prominent, not only with black people but with every living human being. That's the trend. If it had been the trend of yesterday, we would be doing something else today; I just think it's the kids' world, really. We have lived in it and we have really done our thing in it, and we were lucky. Whatever we've done and whatever we're doing now will be somewhere in time, in a book of posterity, that we were alive and that we contributed something.


Today there are a lot of kids who have died for what they believe in, and you will never know who they were. They died valiantly, not from dope or somebody shooting them, but because they believed in what they were doing for this world. They either wanted to change the world or die, and they died. They really have beat the game.


What do you plan for yourself in the future?


I would like to do some acting. I would love to try something else that is still a part of what I do, only without music. I wouldn't particularly want it to be a musical — not that I would turn a musical down — but I would prefer something dramatic or in the comedy field. I don't know if I can do it, but I sure would like to try.


Singing is a natural road to acting, yet none of our great singers, including yourself, has gotten into acting. You should try.


A lot of people have told me the same thing. First I would like to convince myself that maybe I do have a knack for it, but I'll never know unless somebody comes along and offers me an opportunity.


Do you listen to music when you are at home?


Yes, I do. I listen mostly to instrumental music. Being a lover of the piano, Oscar Peterson happens to be my favorite all-around pianist. There are many other pianists I love, but I won't go into it because there are too many of them. Oscar is my favorite because he encompasses everything. There are pianists I like because of one thing and pianists I like because of another. But overall I like Oscar best.


Since we are talking about pianists, what is it you look for in a piano accompanist?


That's a hard question. Accompanying someone cannot be explained by a singer to a pianist. He either knows what to do or he doesn't. An accompanist and a guy who can play the piano are two different things. You have to find someone who is completely sympathetic to the soloist as a singer and not to a soloist as an instrumentalist. It's a completely different thing. Even if a guy can play his buns off, it does not necessarily mean he can accompany a singer. There are some guys who can accompany a singer and who can't play worth a damn as far as soloing is concerned. That is the difference, and it's a vast difference. A guy must really love to do it. He cannot do it because he has nothing else to do.


Getting back to the music you like: what else do you listen to?


Of course, I listen to John Birks Gillespie, and to the Kenny Clark-Francy Boland band; I listen to Miles, to Freddie Hubbard, to Cannonball Adderley and to Blood, Sweat & Tears. These are my favorite groups I'm mentioning to you, and I know I'm going to leave some out. I love music only when I can communicate with it. If I can't communicate with it, it leaves me cold.


You asked me about avant-garde music. Well, that's what the avant-garde does to me; I'm sorry. If there are six people in a group and all six are playing something different, there is no way for me to know who to concentrate on or what's going on. If I go to a club to hear somebody, I'm going there primarily because I believe that they're going to play the kind of music that brought me in there in the first place. I believe if it's more than one person, there has to be some kind of discipline. It mustn't get to the point where there is no discipline.  If you're playing by yourself, right on, anything you want. But when you've got three, four or five people, you start off with a mode of some kind or a set pattern of chords for all of you to play for the first chorus; then after the first chorus what happens? Where do they go? Why do they all have to go in opposite directions? When I find out how I

can get some musical satisfaction out of it, then I'll say, great, avant-garde, I dig it. But for the time being, I cannot.


What do you think about the vast publicity surrounding the use of drugs by musicians?


Well, I'll tell you, you've got to use something to be in this business, It's very hard to get by without drinking or smoking or whatever people feel they physically need to make it. This is not always because they had a bad upbringing and their parents weren't this and their mother was a whore and their father a drunkard. You can come from a completely normal family and have had a very normal and beautiful childhood, and when you get into this business, it's like something else. I think it's foolish for someone to try to destroy himself, but I do believe some sort of stimulant must be used by those who feel they need it in order to survive. If I feel that I need something and somebody else feels that he needs something stronger, then that's his thing. I can't say it's wrong. I just hate to see people — and it's usually the ones with great talent — who utterly destroy themselves by wanting something to stimulate them; after a while it's not a stimulant, it's a necessity.


It becomes a sickness because of what it does to you physically. But I'm not thinking in physical terms. I'm thinking in mental terms. If you feel you have to do something, I think you must be stronger than the will to destroy yourself. You must try to find something that you can cope with, that you can rule, and not something that rules you. That something, just the will to get out of bed, you must have from the start almost literally before you take your first breath. If you can't rule yourself you should go and take a gun and kill yourself, because that is better. You're putting not only yourself but the people who love you through all kinds of mental anguish, and that is not fair. If you were only doing it to yourself and nobody else cared, then I'd say right on. But not when people love you and have to sit around watching you destroying yourself . . .


I'll tell you this in regard to drugs. I am so proud and happy and love the cats I know who were so deep into it and have come out of it and are beautiful individuals. Maybe it sometimes helped to make them the great individuals they turned out to be. So how bad was it? But they are exceptions to the rule. I have known too many great cats who have died from it. That's when you wonder how it can be good. Then you look up at a cat that's been through it and licked it and come through and been a better man than before he tried it, so what do you say?


Do you use the same technique if you're recording, doing a radio show, at a club or at a concert?


You have to change according to where you are. If you're doing a radio show and there's nobody there but you and musicians and technicians, that's one thing. If you're doing a broadcast or a TV show in front of an audience, that's another thing. Doing a concert with nothing there other than the people you're entertaining is still another thing. If you're cutting a record in a studio alone with just the musicians, that's another thing again.


First of all, TV I can do without. I never feel too comfortable on TV, mainly because I can't see all those twenty or thirty million people that I'm supposed to be singing to. Consequently it's like singing to the audience in the studio. Right? Which doesn't make up one iota of the people who you're being seen by and who are the real judges of the show; that leaves me cold. I don't mind because eventually I can sit down at the panel and talk, and I hope I can make up whatever I lacked while I was singing with some intelligence.


I really prefer to sing in concert for people who have paid admission to hear me. I think I do my best in that atmosphere. I never do my best recording, because I never know the song until I record it and start doing it, and six months later it's right. Somebody says to you two weeks from now or four weeks from now, we're going to do a record; here are twelve songs. You learn them and you learn them, and you really learn them, But you don't know them until later.


You've never tried to do the numbers long before, say, in clubs?


I've never had the opportunity, unless it happened to be a song that I did with my trio and that I decided to put in an album with a big band. Then I know the song and I can do my thing. But not the songs that we sit down and pick out two weeks before the session. Some of them are utterly unfamiliar. I've never heard them before. Some of them I might know but have never sung before. It isn't really done right unless I dig the song and take out the rhythm-section parts after the session. Then we'll start doing it in clubs, and by the time the record comes out, I'm doing it completely different.


Carmen, I think we have a beautiful interview. We've been talking for days, 


A.T. Is there anything you want to add?


I think this is a fantastic idea of yours. I love to voice opinions and to be among such people as I'm going to be involved with in this documentary that you're putting down in book form. I'm very flattered that you chose to interview me. I just hope I will be worthy of all the other people that you've interviewed and that I'll have contributed something to somebody.

—Cologne, Germany, October 30, 1970








Sunday, February 6, 2022

CuberQuest - Ronnie Cuber "Meets The Beets Brothers" [From the Archives]

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


Ronnie Cuber was born in New York in 1941. Ronald Edward Cuber made his debut in the late 1950’s in trombonist and music educator’s Marshall Brown's Newport Youth Band at the Newport Jazz Festival. Locating the above photograph of the band in a 1959 edition of Down Beat prompted me to revisit Ronnie’s career and his music.


In the following decades Ronnie worked with Jazz and Latin Jazz masters like Slide Hampton, Maynard Ferguson, George Benson, Lionel Hampton, Woody Herman, Barry Harris, Lonnie Liston Smith, Eddie Palmier! and Lee Konitz. Over the years, Ronnie Cuber earned a reputation as one of the best baritone saxophonists in Jazz  and is often mentioned along with Gerry Mulligan, Nick Brignola and Pepper Adams as being among the best players on that instrument.


Cuber not only received recognition for his achievements on baritone sax, but also as an excellent flute and clarinet player.


In 1976 he joined the legendary Frank Zappa, along with Jazz funk luminaries Michael and Randy Brecker. He appeared on dozens of pop recordings as a sideman, meeting the needs of artists like Aretha Franklin, Eric Clapton. Paul Simon, Bette Middler, Chaka Khan and many more. During the eighties he was a member or the Saturday Night Live Band.


Nowadays, Ronnie Cuber continues to be one of the busiest baritone saxophonists on the contemporary Jazz scene working with the prestigious Mingus Big Band and Horace Silver, as well as touring worldwide with artists like Steve Gadd and Joey DeFrancesco.


In an interview Ronnie gave for the insert notes to his 2009 Maxanter CD Infra-Rae: Ronnie Cuber Meets the Beets Brothers [75967] he was asked:
“You have always played different styles of music like jazz, pop and Latin. Do you recommend young players to do the same.”


To which Ronnie replied: "Yes, I recommend it. There's all kinds of stuff happening. It seems to melt down into the jazz scene. Like in the 1970s with what Joe Zawinul and Weather Report did. It became the norm.  When l am writing music, I also use different style elements. I play all kinds of different music.”


And when Ronnie was asked: “What is your opinion of contemporary Jazz,” he answered:

"Smooth Jazz has developed to a point where it is definitely more listenable than it was some years ago. The musicianship is much higher in groups like Fourplay with Bob James and Everette Harp. But while it is very good, it still doesn't compare to the people I was raised on: Hank Mobley, Art Farmer, Horace Silver, Rav Charles, Art Blakey. Count Basie and Dizzy Gillespie."



Recorded in The Netherlands in 2009, Infra-Rae: Ronnie Cuber Meets the Beets Brothers shows the then 68-years-of-age Cuber more than holding his own with the likes of the much younger Beets [pronounced “Bates”] Brothers: Alexander on tenor sax, Peter on piano and Marius on bass. The drummer on the date is Eric Ineke and here’s a portion of what Eric has to say about Ronnie in his autobiography Eric Ineke The Ultimate Sideman [Pincio Uitgeverij, 2014, The Netherlands]:


“RONNIE CUBER


The first time I played with Ronnie was in 1977 and I was totally blown away by the sound, swing, phrasing and energy produced by this man. He is like Hank Mobley on baritone, a small wonder if you realise that he started out on tenor. The phrasing, just a little behind the beat so typically Mobley and, also like Hank, a very emotional player. His timing is awesome and he plays with such an authority. … He burns right from the start and he is so strong that he gets you where he wants you to be, Hardcore Be-bop. The drummer has to play on top but relaxed. You have to follow him; he is not following you, although he wants interaction. If he wants to burn, you’d better be there, otherwise he is losing you.”


The following audio-only digital music file features Ronnie and the Beets Brothers’ blistering interpretation of Hank Mobley’s Infra-Rae.


Friday, February 4, 2022

Shorty Rogers - The Art of Jazz - by Alyn Shipton

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



“It was William Claxton who set up the photo shoot for Shorty Rogers in this improvised spaceman's headgear plus formal suit jacket and tie. As Shorty told the author, "I don't normally wander around wearing a space helmet."”


"The original ten-inch LP version of Cool and Crazy is a prized collector's item . . . every performance is memorable. . . . Seldom have big bands swung so hard or produced such a joyous sound."

- Robert Gordon, Jazz West Coast (Quartet, 1986)


Periodically, the editorial staff at JazzProfiles enjoys searching out material that covers some aspect of  West Coast Jazz or the Cool School or Jazz on the West Coast and posting it to these pages as part of a recurring theme.


Jazz in California from 1945-1965 was our first exposure to the music and it’s always fun to find new and/or additional “takes” on this style of the music’s evolution.


The following is from Alyn Shipton’s The Art of Jazz: A Visual History [2020] and you can locate order information through its publisher by going here. The book is also available through online booksellers.


Not surprisingly, this excerpt about trumpeter, composer-arranger and bandleader Shorty Rogers is from the “Birth of the Cool and West Coast Jazz” chapter.


“In its issue dated November 4, 1953, Downbeat carried a full-page advertisement from RCA, mainly focused on the music of trumpeter and arranger Shorty Rogers. With the strapline "Modern Jazz by the Man and the Band Who Make It Best," it referred readers to two of Rogers's albums, Cool and Crazy and The Giants, plus an EP plugging the forthcoming Columbia movie Hot Blood (even though everything about it, from the cover image to the tune "Blues for Brando," shows that it was in fact hastily rebranded from an earlier tie-in to Marlon Brando's The Wild One, even down to the cast photograph!) There was also a puff for a compilation LP called Crazy and Cool, linked visually and by title to Rogers's album but featuring other contemporary players in RCA's stable.


Rogers was well known as a former trumpeter and arranger for Woody Herman and Stan Kenton, and had been based in Los Angeles for some time, writing for the Hollywood studios, arranging jazz where he could (including part of Chet Baker's album with strings), and leading his small band, the Giants. His small-band arranging took forward many of the ideas in the Miles Davis nonet; his big-band writing developed out of his time with Kenton. Yet as the 1950s went on, Rogers, with his impish grin and short beard, became the unlikely focus of the cool movement. This was due more than anything to the marketing department at RCA, which initially had no intention of signing him. He recalled that he was helped by a colleague who had worked on his earlier Capitol album Modern Sounds:


Jack Lewis went to RCA and told them they should record Shorty Rogers. They said, "Gee we don't know about that, but we have a title, and we'd love to get the album made. We don't know who to do it with."

He said, "What's the title?"

They said, "Cool and Crazy."


Jack spoke on my behalf and then it wound up being me.



[The cartoon that RCA's design department added to Cool and Crazy pepped up the zany image of the record title, and bore little relationship to the music— there is, for example, no guitar on the record, despite the character second from the right!]


This big-band album compounded the zaniness of its cartoon cover with enigmatic song titles (many of them dreamed up by trombonist Milt Bernhardt and drummer Shelly Manne) that emphasized the Cool and Crazy Idea, such as "Tales of an African Lobster," "Sweetheart of Sigmund Freud," "infinity Promenade," and "Coup de Graas" (named after the band's French horn player, John Graas). "We had fun with the titles," recalled Shorty, "and it became a fun thing to have the title say more than I'm a tune'!"


A residency for his small band led not only to one of the most famous of Rogers's tunes, but also to an album that gave his record labels plenty of visual ideas for marketing. Playing at a nightclub called Zardi's, where the band had a residency of several months, the graffiti "Martians Go Home '' had been written on the men's room wall. Shorty recalled:


“Someone told the girls who were waitresses about it, so it became a funny thing for the people that worked there. They'd say to one another, "Martians go home," and everyone would laugh. It became like a stone rolling down hill, and the thing was getting larger and larger, so we got on the bandstand one night, and I said, "Everyone listen, we have a new original we're going to play now for the first time, and it's entitled Martians Go Home."


The bartender fell down laughing, and all the people working there were laughing, too. And the audience was wondering what all these crazy people were laughing at. I told the rhythm section, "Just play a blues in F," and while they were playing, I sang a little riff to Jimmy Giuffre, and we played this simple little repetitive melody. We had our little joke, and we thought that was the end of it. But the next night, we got to work, and before we got up on the bandstand, people were saying, "Play that Martians Go Home thing." So it just became something associated with us.”



A Classic of Jim Flora's record-cover designs, this seems incredibly busy, yet the only two musicians actually depicted are Shorty with his trumpet on the left, and the central figure of Count Basie (whose music is interpreted on the album) at the whimsical piano.


On the French issue of the first album featuring the tune, there is a motif of a Martian spacecraft (looking suspiciously like a ride cymbal!! next to a boomerang (to symbolize the return homei. More Martian tunes followed by public request, and when the band moved from RCA to the Atlantic label, their first album was Martians Come Back. For this, Shorty posed in a transparent plastic space helmet. It fit the image of being both cool and slightly crazy, and even when Rogers was touring internationally in the nineties, with the Lighthouse All Stars, audiences still came up requesting the "Martian" tunes, at least in part prompted by memories of those original record sleeves.









Wednesday, February 2, 2022

The Flute in Jazz and Buddy Collette's Swinging Shepherds

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


“All in all, the Davis [Birth of the Cool] Nonet was much like a band of apostles, gathered together for a brief time before scattering in their several separate directions, each inspired to proselytize others in turn ….


Although the [West Coast Jazz] movement was never as monolithic as the term suggested, a certain convergence of aesthetic values could be seen in many of the West Coast recordings. The music was often highly structured, rebelling against the simple head charts of East Coast modern jazz and reflecting a formalism that contrasted sharply with the spontaneity of bebop. Counterpoint and other devices of formal composition figured prominently in the music. Larger ensembles — octets, nonets, tentettes — continued to thrive in West Coast jazz circles, long after they had become an endangered species elsewhere. Unusual instruments were also embraced with enthusiasm, and many of them — such as flute and flugelhorn — eventually came to be widely used in the jazz world. Relaxed tempos and unhurried improvisations were frequently the norm, and the music often luxuriated in a warm romanticism and melodic sweetness that was far afield from the bop paradigm.”

- Ted Gioia, The History of Jazz


This feature is an extension and an elaboration of Ted’s comment in the above quotation regarding the role of the flute in Jazz and how the eclecticism and experimentation that was a keynote of Jazz on the West Coast helped to establish the instrument in Jazz in general. 


Christopher Washburne offers the following synopsis of the flute in Jazz in the following excerpt from his essay Miscellaneous Instruments in Jazz in Bill Kirchner, ed., The Oxford Companion to Jazz [2000]:  


Musicians create jazz in innumerable ways, and at times have defied orthodoxy by developing their voices on instruments that have not attained a prominent role in jazz. 


The flute was used only sporadically in early jazz styles; its popularity, however, has steadily grown throughout this century. Way-man Carver, who performed with Benny Carter and Chick Webb, is known as the first jazz flutist. In 1953 he recorded one of the earliest flute solos on Carter's "Devil's Holiday" (Columbia). Webb's 1937 recording of "I Got Rhythm" (Decca) is particularly representative of Carver's work. It was not until the 1950s that the flute's use became widespread, due in part to the interest of several saxophonists—-known as "doublers," for their ability to play a variety of woodwind instruments-—to play jazz on the instrument. 


The doublers active in the 1950s who became noted as accomplished flutists include Frank Wess, James Moody, Yusef Lateef, Buddy Collette, and Bud Shank. Wess, a saxophonist with the Count Basie orchestra (1955—64), was one of the first popularizers of the instrument. His warm, breathy, rich sound and virtuosic ability are heard on the 1955 Basie recording "Midgets" (Verve). James Moody's approach to flute soloing favored a beautiful clear tone and cleanly executed virtuosic melodic lines. One of his most remarkable solos is heard on his recording of "Cherokee" (Milestone). Lateef explored more unconventional approaches to playing the instrument and popularized the multiphonic technique of simultaneously singing and playing. A good example is heard on Lateef's 1957 recording of "Take the 'A' Train" on The Sounds of Yusef Lateef (Prestige), where he alternates between playing a conventional bop solo and multiphonics. In 1958 Buddy Collette was the first to record all the instruments of the modern flute family (piccolo, flute, alto, and bass), on Buddy Collette's Swinging Shepherds (EmArcy). Bud Shank was an important figure in West Coast jazz of the 1950s, playing with Howard Rumsey's Lighthouse All-Stars. His 1954 recording with Laurindo Almeida, Brazilliance (World Pacific), captures his soloing style.


Other notable doublers include Eric Dolphy, Rahsaan Roland Kirk, Joe Farrell, and Lew Tabackin. Dolphy played flute in modern and free jazz settings. His work with Chico Hamilton on the 1958 recording Gongs East (Warner Bros.) showcases his expressive soloing style. Roland Kirk explored more unconventional playing styles utilizing multiphonics and circular breathing extensively. In addition to playing the modern flute, Kirk performed on a variety of wooden and ethnic flutes. His 1964 all-flute album I Talk With the Spirits (Limelight/Verve) showcases his abilities. Joe Farrell was a member of Chick Corea's Return to Forever, a group that fused Brazilian and Latin musics with contemporary jazz. Their 1972 recording Return to Forever (ECM) includes several extended flute solos, capturing Farell's light, clear, and vibratoless tone. Lew Tabackin has been a featured soloist with the Toshiko Akiyoshi Big Band and his own groups since the 1970s.

Musicians who are known primarily as flutists include Sam Most, Herbie Mann, Hubert Laws, Jeremy Steig, and James Newton. Most's first recording as a bandleader (1955), The Sam Most Sextet (Prestige), firmly established him as the first bop flutist. 


Herbie Mann was the first jazz musician to establish his career performing only on flute. Although versatile in many jazz styles, it was with his jazz-rock playing and his explorations into Latin music styles in the 1960s and 1970s, well represented on his 1968 recording Memphis Underground (Atlantic), that he attained his greatest popularity. Hubert Laws also plays flute exclusively and is accomplished in both the jazz and classical styles. His 1964 recording The Laws of Jazz (Atlantic) demonstrates his large and refined tone and impeccable intonation. Jeremy Steig was active in jazz-rock and other modern jazz settings. He favored an approach to soloing that often included the use of vocalizations; his work on Bill Evans's 1969 recording What's New (Verve) is illustrative of this. James Newton, inspired by Eric Dolphy, has been active in avant-garde and other settings since the late 1970s; his 1981 album Axum (ECM) is a good introduction to his work.”


Thanks to a disc jockey friend of the family who hosted a very successful popular music AM radio show, whenever our families got together, I was able to choose from “anything along the living room wall” a stash which usually consisted of preview Jazz LPs that would never get airplay on his radio show.


To my good fortune, one of these hauls contained an album with four flutists dressed as monks on the cover, three of whom [Buddy Collette, Bud Shank and Paul Horn] I had heard play the instrument in other settings while one [Harry Klee] was new to me.


The recording just clicked with me [I think today’s phrase is “to resonate with”] and I’ve been a fan of the instrument in a Jazz setting ever since.


And it would appear that I’m not the only one with whom the album resonated.


Buddy Collette's Swinging Shepherds 1958 LP must have been somewhat of a success as there was a sequel issued the following year entitled Buddy Collette and His Swinging Shepherds al the Cinema.


Both of these recordings have been combined on one CD in the Jazz City Series on Fresh Sound Records FSR 2258 and you can locate order information by going here.



Nat Hentoff’s Original Liner notes from the 12" album

Buddy Collette's Swinging Shepherds (Mercury SR 80005 stereo/ME 36133 mono)


“During the short but fervent recent struggle of jazz flutists to be admitted into the legitimate company of jazz instruments, the usual charge leveled against the flutists (who finally won) was that the instrument had so slight a tradition in jazz history.


Had the flutists, however, wanted to throw historical weight around, they might have pointed out that if tradition is the criterion, there have been funky flutes on the earth for many more centuries than such neophytes as the tenor saxophone or the vibes. Or, as Grove's Dictionary of Music and Musicians puts the case, "a visit to any representative ethnographical collection will show that the flute in some form or another is known and loved by primitive tribes all over the world." It's hard to get any more basic than that.


Actually, within jazz itself, the flute is not without some history. Wayman Carver was playing solos on flute with Chick Webb at least as early as 1937, and his work, as I had occasion to rehear during the past few months, was far from "novelty" playing. His solos swung and had a good jazz conception.


Another of the earlier jazz shepherds was Harry Klee of this present assemblage, who recorded Caravan with Ray Linn in the early '40s, was with Boyd Raeburn in the mid '40s on alto saxophone and flute, and was heard on flute in a Mary Ann McCall set in the early'50s.


The fully-committed march of the flutes into jazz, however, did not begin to shape up until about 1954. Herbie Mann and Frank Wess in the east and Bud Shank on the west coast began to demonstrate marked affection for the instrument and a degree of idiomatic jazz facility with the horn. More and more recruits were added until in the 1957 Down Beat Readers Poll—in which a separate flute category made its second annual appearance—there were 13 candidates who received enough votes to be listed.


Buddy Collette, the leader of this four-way flute album (possibly the largest single assemblage of flutists yet gathered on one jazz date), has had a considerable share in accelerating the acceptance of the flute in jazz by his work when he was with Chico Hamilton and by his recordings.


Among his converts, for example, is Edgar Jackson of the stately British Gramophone, who wrote recently of Buddy; "If my personal preference is for his flute playing it is probably because I find his tone more attractive than that of any other jazz flutist." "Versatility has been the downfall of many jazzmen, but Collette seems able to make the switch from one instrument to another with the utmost ease and without the tone of any one suffering. Always graceful, he has a flair for melody,"


William Marcell (Buddy) Collette was born in Los Angeles, August 6, 1921. He began on piano at 10, added the alto at 12, and headed his first band that year with sidemen Charles Mingus and Britt Woodman. He accumulated the clarinet at 14, went to Jordan high school, and during his last year there (he was leader of the school dance band) he began studying theory with Floyd Reese. A classmate at Jordan, by the way, was Joe Comfort, the bassist on this session.


After some professional experience in and around Los Angeles, Buddy served in the navy for 3 and half years, eventually becoming leader of military and dance units therein. He formed an all-star band in 1946 that included Mingus, Woodman, and Lucky Thompson; and later worked with, among others, Edgar Hayes, Louis Jordan, Benny Carter, and Gerald Wilson.


Starting with Jerry Fielding on the Groucho Marx Show in 1950, Collette has been in ubiquitous demand in west coast radio, TV, and recording studios. He also played for a time on tour with the Chico Hamilton quintet.


Buddy had started studying at the Los Angeles Conservatory after his 1946 band broke up, and it was there he began on the flute. He later did advanced work with Martin Ruderman and Henry Woempner while continuing his study of the other reed instruments and theory.


In addition to Harry Klee, long established in Hollywood studios, Buddy's flute associates in this session include Bud Shank, the Kenton alumnus, who is also known on alto and in recent months, has begun considerable concentration on tenor. Paul Horn is also multiple-skilled (alto, clarinet, piccolo, flute, alto flute) and became generally known in the jazz field when he replaced Collette with Chico Hamilton in September, 1956, after a previous term with the Sauter-Finegan orchestra. He has since left Chico to settle in Los Angeles,


As for the program, Buddy wrote the melodically animable Flute Diet with Bud Shank on alto flute and the rest on C flutes. Short Story is also Buddy's, with Horn and Shank on alto flutes, Klee on bass flute, and Buddy on C flute. It's a reflective story and illustrates again Buddy's skill at constructing quickly ingratiating melodies. Pete Rugolo wrote the tribute to Machito in which the opening alto flute solo is by Harry Klee. There is doubling to piccolos by members of the confraternity later in the number.


The pastoral Improvisation with conga drum opens with overtones of Ravel and involves Buddy on C flute, Horn on piccolo, Shank on alto flute, and Klee on bass flute. It was "done right on the spot," notes Buddy, "with one take." Pony Tale is by Paul Horn (all the composers, incidentally, arranged their own works) and utilizes three C flutes and one alto flute.


The Funky Shepherds (perhaps a redundancy) is by Bud Shank with two C flutes, an alto flute and one bass flute. Tasty Dish is Collette's with all the front line this time playing C flutes. The second Improvisation is without rhythm section and indicates the viability of the flute even in such multiple consanguinity. The closing The Four Winds Blow is by Paul Horn, and for the second-time in the album, all four are C flutes.


Thus endeth the flute seminar, a presentation in four-fold force of the thesis that the flute, like any other instrument, has the capacity to be part of the jazz species. It's not the instrument, after all, that determines eligibility; it's the player.”

—Nat Hentoff



John Tynan’s original liner notes from the 12" album sequel - Buddy Collette and His Swinging Shepherds al the Cinema (Mercury SR 60132 stereo / MG 20447 mono]


“In this set of songs and themes from 11 Hollywood Flickers, Buddy Collette's "Swinging Shepherds" (Bud Shank, Paul Horn and Harry Klee) combine with the leader to produce by pen and assorted flutes one of the freshest albums of movie tunes to come along in a month of cliché-ridden Sundays.


Until the release of Buddy Collette's Swinging Shepherds (Mercury MG 36133), the flute in jazz had generally been utilized in solo context. Then came the Shepherds with their unique arrangements for a quartet of flutes, blowing free and off-the-chart modern jazz as the mood dictated.


Little need be added to Nat Hentoff's comprehensive summation of the action and the personnel on the first album except to note that Collette, Horn, Shank and Klee (and, of course, the worthies in the rhythm section Bill Miller, piano, Joe Comfort, bass, and Bill Richmond, drums and conga) continue to reign supreme on their instruments in the west coast jazz sphere. All remain top studio musicians on many of the most popular television programs, motion pictures and records.


In this album, where the instrumentation is of such complexity and variability, it would appear worthwhile to list the different flute voicings and order of solos. Bassist Red Mitchell is present on all the tracks; piano and drum chores were split between Bill Miller and John T. Williams (on piano) and between Shelly Manne and Earl Palmer (on drums). Jim Hall is on guitar.

So far as the flutes are concerned, suffice to say that confusion may seem the order of the day to the casual listener. But, for the assiduous fan, here is the track-by-track breakdown:


Colonel Bogey, a light, sprightly treatment of the Bridge on the River Kwai theme (composed as a military march by K.J. Aldford and adapted for the film by Malcolm Arnold), was arranged by Bud Shank. It's very tongue-in-cheek and cheerful and is scored for Horn and Shank on E flat flutes before a switch which casts Shank on the solo C (or "regular") instrument with Collette, Horn and Klee manning an alto flute apiece behind him. Collette has a brief statement on alto flute, and the piano soloist on this track is Bill Miller. Earl Palmer is on drums.


Laura spotlights the bass flute work of Harry Klee and Pete Rugolo's richly colorful arrangement of this David Raksin composition for the Gene Tierney-Dana Andrews picture. Note the startling key change as the bass flute enters to state the theme after the C flute introduction. There is a sinuous Latin beat behind the two-part writing for the C and E flat flutes of Shank and Horn, respectively. If you listen carefully it is easily discerned that Shank is quite close to the mike here. Soloist is Collette.


Smile, the poignant theme in Charlie Chaplin's Modern Times is here given a medium-up, swinging treatment by Collette, who arranged it for two C flutes (himself and Klee) and two altos (Shank and Horn). Collette has the lead in the ensemble section before guitarist Jim Hall's fine solo, then returns to take the first flute solo. Horn plays the second flute solo, followed by Bill Miller on piano. Note on the final chorus the big, fat ensemble sound achieved by Collette in his section writing for the four flutes. Shelly Manne is on drums.


The Bad and the Beautiful, one of the most haunting movie themes of all time, is another David Raksin composition for the film of the same name starring Lana Turner and Kirk Douglas. In the picture, it may be recalled, the first full soundtrack statement of the theme was played by trombonist Si Zentner as a "mood catcher'" for actress Turner. Here the blue legato feeling is sustained in Paul Horn's sensitive arrangement for his own C flute, the altos of Shank and Collette and Klee's bass flute. Note Jim Hall's effective downward guitar slur which ends the introduction, effectively preparing the listener for the mood to follow.


The Shrike, composed originally by Pete Rugolo for this film, is the only number here arranged by the original composer. It is appropriately eerie, but swings in medium tempo to Shelly Manne's drums. A high spot of this arrangement is Horn's piccolo performance, on which instrument he doubles with the alto flute; Collette is on C flute. Shank on E flat and Klee on bass. Rugolo's reputation for "far out" writing certainly is not belied here. Note in particular the manner in which he achieves unusual tonal color by manipulating instrumental voicings; e.g., the flutes, piccolo and piano toward the close manage to suggest an almost "Moonlight Sonata" feeling. Williams is on piano.


I Can't Believe That You're in Love with Me, by Clarence Gaskill and Jimmy McHugh, has been featured in a number of films, most recently in The Caine Mutiny. Always a good tune for jazz blowing, here it skips happily under Bud Shank's pen through 16-bar exchanges between the four flutists. First comes Shank, then Collette, then, finally Klee. Red Mitchell's brief but excellent string bass solo precedes a riding ensemble exercise on the final chorus.


The Trolley Song summons sentimental memories of a young, fresh Judy Garland in the picture Meet Me In St. Louis. Buddy Collette's interpretation of the Hugh Martin-Ralph Blane tune features the C flutes of himself and Klee and the altos of Shank and Horn. After motorman Earl Palmer clangs into up tempo, Klee takes the lead, then drops an octave on the first bridge. Note Bill Miller's economical and intelligent piano solo here.


Intermezzo inevitably recalls to the imagination a very young, refreshing Ingrid Bergman and the late Leslie Howard. The romantic theme is sentimentally handled by arranger Pete Rugolo who wrote for two C flutes (Collette and Shank), alto (Horn) and bass (Klee). Horn opens, followed by Collette, and Klee's is the final voice.


Ruby arranged here by Buddy Collette, was composed as a theme for the film of the same name by Mitchell Parrish and Heinz Roemheld. Guitarist Hall opens with a statement of the melody line backed by The C flutes of Collette and Horn and the altos of Shank and Klee. Following Bill Miller's piano solo, Mitchell enters for a 12-bar bass statement before the flutists command for a series of 8-bar breaks: Horn is first (note his flutter), then Klee; Collette follows and, finally, Shank. Drummer Palmer sends the ensemble riding home to the coda.


Invitation is another movie title tune — this time composed by Bronislau Kaper — was arranged by Paul Horn for his own alto flute lead, the C flutes of Collette and Shank, and Klee's bass. With drummer Palmer playing stick against tom-tom shell and guitarist Hall plinking a bongo effect at the bridge of his instrument, an exotic rhythmic pattern is achieved behind the flutes. Bill Miller is heard in a brief and tasteful piano interlude, and the piece closes with a high C flute note by Shank.


Would You Like to Swing on a Star will be remembered as the musical query posed by Bing Crosby in Goin' My Way. Composed for the film by Johnny Burke and Jimmy Van Heusen, this version was arranged by Paul Horn for three C flutes and Klee's alto. Solos by all four are on the C instrument and the order is Horn, Collette, Shank and Klee. There's a wild flurry of flutes before Red Mitchell steps in for a short solo, inviting the Shepherds to pipe the album back to the fold after an uncommonly happy gambol.”