Bill Perkins - The Gordon Jack Interview [With Revisions and Additions]

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

"Nobody could have been luckier" than to play with Herman and Kenton, Perkins told the Los Angeles Times."Though they were both very different, they were both forward-looking and never told you how to play. Stan especially gave me a “feeling of worth" -- a sense that "being a jazz musician was something of great value."

- Bill Perkins to Leonard Feather

Gordon Jack is a frequent contributor to the Jazz Journal and a very generous friend in allowing JazzProfiles to re-publish of his insightful and discerning writings on these pages.

Gordon is the author of Fifties Jazz Talk An Oral Retrospective and he also developed the Gerry Mulligan discography in Raymond Horricks’ book Gerry Mulligan’s Ark.

The following article was first published in Jazz Journal August 2001. Based in the UK, Gordon uses English spelling.

For more information and subscriptions please visit www.jazzjournal.co.uk

© -Gordon Jack/JazzJournal, copyright protected; all rights reserved; used with the author’s permission.

This interview with Bill Perkins took place at the 1999 "Stan Kenton Rendezvous" in Egham, England. He reminisced about Kenton and Woody Herman as well as colleagues like Dave Madden and Steve White, who are almost forgotten today. He was also quite happy to discuss the dramatic stylistic change that occurred in his playing during the early eighties.

“I was born on July 22,1924, in San Francisco, and my first big-time job was around 1951, when I worked with Desi Arnaz and Lucille Ball. He was a fiery Latin type who would punch first and ask questions later, so it was quite an experience, because I was pretty green. Lucille, of course, was a great comedienne, but Desi had a lot more to do with their success than he has been credited with. He was a brilliant man and the brains behind I Love Lucy. Later that year, thanks to Shorty Rogers, I joined Woody Herman. Shorty was often my benefactor, because he also recommended me to Stan Kenton, although I didn't know it at the time —I had to find out from someone else.

I took Phil Urso's place with Woody and showed up at the L.A. Palladium still wet behind the ears and scared to death. He put up with me for a long time, so he must have figured I would amount to something, and God bless him for that. Jack Dulong, who has since passed away, was the lead tenor, and he was a lovely player, although he didn't get much solo space with the band. He also played baritone and later on became a copyist in the studios for many years. Don Fagerquist. Doug Mettome, and Dick Collins were in the trumpet section, and they were just remarkable. Don was also an outstanding lead player, and Carl Saunders, who plays with me in Bill Holman's band, idolizes him.

Woody disbanded around Christmas 1953 and Dave Madden, for whom I had a great regard and respect, eventually took my place.1 He and his partner. Gail, were a couple at the time, and they were really avant-garde in every way. Dave and I had been to the Westlake School of Music together with Bob

Graettinger, and I was very impressed with the sound he got from his old Conn. I recommended him to Woody, which turned out to be a mistake, because he'd changed his approach and become pretty far out. Today his playing would be fascinating, but everyone was in that "Stan Getz" groove at the time, and I don't think Woody was too pleased with him.1

I was very lucky to be part of the Stan Kenton band, which I joined after I left Herman. Dave Schildkraut, who was a personal favorite, was on alto along with Charlie Mariano. One of our concert tours featured both Charlie Parker and Lee Konitz as guests, which was a great experience for me. still a pretty dumb kid. Anyway the player Bird liked the best was Davey. who was a complete original, and he played tenor well, too. although in a totally different way. We got along beautifully, but he was a worrier, always bugged with himself. I felt privileged to be playing Bob Graettinger's music with Stan, and I try to dispel the myth created by those who only know "City of Glass." He was not like a monkey with a brush tied to its tail, producing something that is subsequently sold as modern art. I really appreciate that piece now, although at the time I didn't know what to make of it. When we were at Westlake. he wrote every type of music and wrote it well, and whether you like "City of Glass" or not, he knew exactly what he was doing. I like it because I enjoy twentieth-century composers, and boy, was he a twentieth-century composer!

While I was with Kenton, Mel Lewis was my roommate, and he was one of my dearest friends. Times have changed, but he was one of the great big band drummers, and everyone got a little from Mel, just as he did from people like Tiny Kahn. He was the most unselfish drummer I've ever heard, though his personality was about as abrasive as sixty-grit sandpaper. He didn't bother me because I used to pull the pillow over my head and just go to sleep! Inside, though, he was very kind hearted and he played for you. He worked out much better in New York than in the L.A. studios, where you have to keep your mouth shut and do what you're told; individualists don't really make it in L.A. I wish I could have played in the band he had with Thad Jones, because the writing gave it a small band feel, which I like.

Towards the end of the fifties, Kenton decided to drop one of the altos and add a tuba and two French horns. Being the first tenor with a four-man sax section, I became in essence the second alto. That was great for my chops, especially with Charlie Mariano on lead, because he plays like there is no tomorrow, but it was tough competing with all that brass. The conventional sax section has been around for a long time with good reason, but Stan wanted a different sound. Not wanting to stand still, he was always looking for a new approach, but it made things very difficult for us. We kept telling him that we wanted another saxophone, so he got a second baritone, which we needed like a hole in the head, because it made the band even more bottom heavy. While I was with him I also worked in local L.A. clubs with Bob Gordon in George Redman's little group, and we also tried to get Bob on the Kenton band. He was the "Zoot Sims" of the baritone but was tragically killed in a car crash in 1955. He was a marvelously ebullient player and a really neat guy to be around, but he could get pretty down on himself if he thought he wasn't playing well.2

Another legendary guy from those days was Steve White, who played clarinet, all the saxes, and he sang as well. On tenor, which was his primary instrument, he sounded like Lester Young, and I mean the real Lester from the late thirties recordings, when Prez was awesome. That's the way Steve played, just a complete natural. He was a real character, and there have been a lot of stories about him, which are all true! I remember staying on Hymie Gunkler's powerboat after a New Year's Eve gig. when I had been working with Murray McEachern's band on Catalina Island. We were woken up around 3 a.m. by the sound of a baritone coming from Avalon Harbor, which turned out to be Steve playing alone on the pier. Unfortunately, he stumbled and the baritone went over the side into the ocean, but he managed to fish it out the next day. He lives in San Fernando Valley and still plays, as far as I know. Stu Williamson, who died in 1991, is someone else who is forgotten today, which is a tragedy because he was a remarkable soloist. He was a gentle man and a real sweetheart, as is his brother Claude, who I'm glad to say is playing again quite beautifully.

Al Cohn and Zoot Sims have always been heroes of mine, and along with Richie Kamuca. I recorded with Al in 1955.3  I tended more towards Al, I suppose, because his mournful sound appealed to my personality, whereas Zoot was always so happy in his playing. Everybody knows Al had a great sense of humor, but Zoot could be pretty funny, too. Stan Getz once said to him, "Al prefers your playing to mine," and Zoot replied. "Don't you?"

I recorded with John Lewis in 1956, and that was a marvelous experience, because he had heard me play and knew exactly what my pluses and minuses were.4 I have always been grateful to John for arranging that date with Dick Bock and for making it so easy for me, just like falling off a log. Afterwards, when I went out into the real world. I found that record dates were not usually like that; they don't set them up just for you. Later that same year, I did an album with Richie Kamuca and Art Pepper, and one of the titles was my arrangement of "All of Me."5 I remember saying on the sleevenote that for all the effort I put into that chart, I could have had an original. Unfortunately you can't copyright an orchestration, which is something a lot of people regret, and that's why Bill Holman writes so many originals now. Jimmy Rowles played on that date, and he was another hero of mine, because he was a towering giant of individuality. A single bar on a record is enough for me to recognize him, which isn't easy on a piano. His daughter Stacy is a beautiful flugelhorn player, and I would love to do an album with her. She doesn't work much because she is dedicated to jazz music, and she is a girl on top of that, which is two strikes against her right there!

What a fine player Art Pepper was, and what a writer. People who remember his playing today have probably forgotten what beautiful lines he wrote. We were not close, so I didn't see him that often, but many years later we used to rehearse at my house, along with David Angel. That's when I really appreciated him, because when you are older, you stop focussing on yourself quite so much, and whatever chair Art played, alto or tenor, he always gave his part such life. Everybody around him responded to that, and Bob Cooper, whose tenor I have today, was the same sort of guy. Players like that can sit in the section and just lift you up. Towards the end of Art's life he could hear all the new stuff going on around him, and I think he felt left out. If he had lived, he would have assimilated the avant-garde things, and with his genius for playing, the results would have been priceless. I like guys that can add change to what they already have.

In the mid fifties I often worked with Lennie Niehaus at Jazz City and the Tiffany, and Hampton Hawes sometimes played with us. At the time I was usually bugged with myself too much and worried about my own playing, but in recent years I've begun to appreciate just how good some of these people were, which is the only advantage from growing old I suppose. Hampton was marvelous, and I only wish I could play with him now. He had his problems, like a lot of others, but he was a very nice and gentle man. It's funny, but when I listen to the album I made with him and Bud Shank in 1956, I wonder where I got all that energy.6

In the early sixties I played quite a lot with Marty Paich in his Dek-tette, and I really loved him. He did a lot for my career, and just like Bill Holman, he never wrote a note in haste or turned out a schlock bar. He was an old bebop piano player, but he was so dedicated and intense, he became a martinet on the podium. That could be misunderstood, but he thought it was the best way to get discipline. I was on a few albums with Marty and Mel Torme, and almost until he died, Mel's singing was right on the money. He was one of the best in-tune singers ever, just a paragon of excellence, although he sometimes forgot lyrics towards the end. but then, I forget a lot of stuff too! He was also a good arranger and drummer, but for my personal taste I prefer baritone singers like Joe Williams, because I don't care for high-pitched voices so much. You can't take anything away from Mel, though, because he started it all. influencing groups like the Hi-Lo's with his own Mel-Tones. He was a very exacting guy, but you can accept a lot from someone who can sing like that, with his intonation.

While I was working with Marty Paich, I was also playing in Terry Gibbs' Dream Band with one of my all-time favorite musicians. Joe Maini, on lead

alto. Sadly, through his own fault, very few people are aware of him today, but those who played with him will never forget him. Along with Lanny Morgan he was the greatest, most dynamic jazz-oriented lead alto I ever played with. He was also a wonderful soloist who didn't get much exposure, but every now and then some young player will say, "I heard a solo by this guy Joe Maini which was terrific." He was a larger than life character who would do anything without fear, living life on the edge, just a great person to be around and someone who could light the room up.

During the sixties I worked mostly in the studios, and I was on some Frank Sinatra singles like "Strangers in the Night," which is best forgotten. Chuck Berghofer was on that, and he also did Nancy's hit, "These Boots Are Made for Walking." and we are never going to let him forget that! Sinatra of course was a pro, none of this twenty-take business. By the time he had done three, that was it and you'd better be right, too. It was always an experience with him. because he would have a big entourage with lots of attractive girls in the studio. I remember once seeing a beautiful lady standing by herself, looking very quiet and lonely. She smiled at me. and it was Marilyn Monroe.

In the early days of Supersax, they rehearsed in my garage, and we were casting around, looking for a second tenor. Med Flory may deny this (and he's bigger than me!) but I recall him saying, "Warne Marsh is available but he doesn't play so good." Anyway. Warne joined the group, and one night Med turned him loose on "Cherokee" and the rest is history, because after about six choruses it was obvious just how good Warne really was. Supersax was hard to play with, and there wasn't much solo room for the saxes, but I had to leave anyway, because of my studio commitments. I don't do studio dates anymore, as I have retired, except for playing jazz.

In the early eighties I started changing my approach because I felt I had to do something else. I'm not ashamed of my previous style and sound, but I wanted to move on, even if it was sideways, and jazz is all about being able to adapt, otherwise you become stagnant. Of course you can't change overnight, and at first it was painful and I didn't play well. I remember in 1983 when Zoot Sims and I were touring Switzerland with Woody's band. I was already striking out in a new direction, and sometimes really striking out. Zoot. though, was very nice and supportive to me. Hopefully things have smoothed out a little, because you have to be true to yourself; you can't be another person. In recent years I have started to play the baritone, and I've been very influenced by Pepper Adams, although I don't have his technique, because he was a monster. He was a true original, and even when he was with Kenton, he was such a radical player that he really turned me around. He's still the daddy of guys like Gary Smulyan and Nick Brignola, who are wonderful players, incidentally. Pepper grew up in Detroit with Tommy Flanagan, and this may surprise you, but their playing is very similar. I know it's hard to equate the baritone and piano, but their lines are very close, and it was [pianist] Frank Strazzeri who pointed it out to me.

I currently play with a marvelous young trumpeter. John Daversa, whose father, Jay, played with Stan Kenton. Everyone in the band is about half my age, and I keep handing in my resignation but he won't accept it. John's writing is fascinating because he uses a lot of mixed meters, which makes things interesting. I have to admit, though, that I'm tired of playing in big bands, although I make an exception for Bill Holman, who is an absolute genius. I play second alto with him and it is tough music, but he has given me a chance to learn the book and kindly given me solo space. Some of today's bands are so regimented, almost Kentonian, whereas I prefer bands that are loose, like Duke Ellington's was. Part of the problem is the college system, where Stan performed an invaluable service in his desire to educate, but there is now a tendency to discipline music too much. I'm tired of playing regimented music, and that was the only aspect of Stan's band that became burdensome. A lot of the stuff we did with him sounded better than it played. I'll tell you that. With Bill's band, not only do the charts sound great but they play great as well.

What must be respected, however, is that Stan Kenton always looked forward, often at great financial hazard to himself. They were totally different personalities, but Woody Herman was just the same, and that's what makes them heroes.”

Four years after this interview took place. Bill Perkins died on August 9th, 2003. A memorial was held for him at the Local 47 Musicians' Union on Vine Street in Los Angeles, where a packed crowd heard, among other attractions, Bill Holman's big band.

NOTES

1.  Dave Madden's career with Woody Herman seems to have lasted for about three months in 1954. He left after the band played the Hollywood Palladium in September and was replaced by Richie Kamuca. He went on to play with Jerry Gray. Si Zentner, and Harry James.

2.  Bob Gordon did a studio recording with the Kenton band in 1954 but, unfortunately, did not solo.

3.  Al Cohn, The Brothers. RCA Victor LPM 1162.

4.  John Lewis. Grand Encounter. Pacific Jazz CDP 7 456 592.

5.  Bill Perkins, Just Friends. LAE 12088 (subsequently issued in Japan on Toshiba TOCJ 5427).

6.  Bud Shank/Bill Perkins. Pacific Jazz CDP 7243 4 93159 2 1.

Rob McConnell and The Boss Brass

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

At one time or another many, if not most, Jazz musicians want to try their hand at playing in a big band.

When you are in one that clicks, there’s nothing in the world like it.

The surge of energy and rhythmic propulsion generated by a powerful big band leaves you giddy with excitement.

Navigating your way through a big band arrangement with fifteen or so companion musicians creates a sense of deep satisfaction that comes from successfully meeting a difficult challenge.

The art of individualism, which is so much a part of Jazz, gets put aside and is replaced by the teamwork and shared cooperation of playing in an ensemble setting.

When it all comes together you feel like you’re in love; overwhelmed by something bigger than you that you don’t understand.

You gotta pay attention; you gotta concentrate and you gotta do your best, otherwise it’s a train wreck.

So much goes into it:

- great charts [arrangements]

- great section leaders

- great soloists

- a great rhythm section

- and most of all, a great leader who melds it all together.

Enter Rob McConnell, who for over thirty years led a band based in Toronto, Canada which he called from its inception “The Boss Brass” [“boss” being slang for “incredible,” “awesome,” and “very cool”].

Rob passed away on May 1, 2010. The following memorial post and podcast was broadcast on Jazz.fm in Toronto, Canada. It was produced by Geoff Siskend with Jessica Humphries and Ross Porter as executive producers. Ross Porter also hosted the program for which financial support was provided by The Department of Canadian Heritage and the Canadian Culture Online Program.

You can also hear the documentary Rob McConnell: The Boss of the Boss Brass online at the Canadian Jazz Archive:

© -George Siskend, Jessica Humphries, Ross Porter, Jazz FM 91 and The Canadian Jazz Archives, copyright protected; all rights reserved.

Rob McConnell: The Boss of the Boss Brass

“For close to 30 years Rob McConnell’s ‘Boss Brass’ reigned over the Big Band scene with its driving power, clever arrangements and the raw talent of its roster of A-list players. In recognition of his accomplishments, McConnell has received more Grammy awards than Bryan Adams, Neil Young and Leonard Cohen put together. Crusty, comical, and opinionated, McConnell is tough on musicians and, as the boss, doesn’t settle for anything less than perfection.

Transcript of the audio documentary

Ross Porter: To me, Rob McConnell is one of the larger than life figures in Canadian Jazz. He is crusty, comical, and a musical triple treat. Because not only is he a gifted valve trombonist, he is also an incredibly talented composer and arranger. His band, The Boss Brass, received great international acclaim during its near 30-year reign. His arrangements have set the bar for big band music around the world. He has won more Grammy Awards than Bryan Adams, Neil Young, and Leonard Cowen combined. He has a reputation for excellence and an absolute demand for perfection.

I’m Ross Porter and welcome to the documentary, ‘Rob McConnell: The Boss of the Boss Brass.’

I recently had the opportunity to sit down with Rob McConnell in a studio in Toronto to talk about his life, his work, and his music.

Ross Porter: The music that you hear in your head, does it sound the same way after the musicians have played it?

Rob McConnell: Well, it’s usually better than I had hoped for because of the sparkling and eager and talented musicians I’ve had in any of my bands. I find that the musicians bring so much eagerness and talent to the floor that in under any circumstance they lift me up.

Ross Porter: A list of the players who’ve worked with Rob McConnell reads like a who’s who of the Canadian Jazz scene. Players such as Ed Bickert, Mo Kaufman, Don Thompson, Guido Basso, Terry Clarke, Rick Wilkins, and Ian McDougall. Rob may be admired throughout the jazz world for his playing ability and composing, but it’s his gift as a big band arranger that has really set him apart.

Jack Batten (former jazz critic for the Globe and Mail): The whole world should know about Rob McConnell, but not even all of Canada knows Rob McConnell, but that’s the nature of jazz, I guess. I mean, anybody, anywhere in the world who knows about big band music, in any country, knows about Rob McConnell.

Alex Dean (Boss Brass saxophonist): I think Rob is an individual voice, a true artistic individual voice in the world of jazz music. And I mean, in the world. I don’t think he’s doing anything that’s like, “Oh man, this is all brand new!” “This is the new thing.” In fact Rob would probably happy if you said, “Oh this is the old thing.” You know. His writing is incredible and his influence. I mean, he has influenced all other writing. The way he voices. The way he harmonizes. The way he puts unisons together. I guess the thing now is that people lift Rob’s stuff and use it. And they don’t even know.

Ian McDougall (lead trombone player for The Boss Brass): You know when went to an LA for the first time Rob was honored by the LA people and all the big people there. They just said, “Rob, you’ve actually done something that’s changed the way we think about rearranging for the big band.” It was the best damn band in the world.

Ross Porter: This giant of jazz was born in London, Ontario on Valentine’s day 1935. The son of a traveling salesman, Rob’s family was uprooted to Toronto to follow his father’s career when Rob was just 11 years old. And it was in Toronto that Rob was first introduced to the instrument that would become his musical forte and define his style as a composer, the trombone.

Rob McConnell: I started out singing, you know, as a soprano in church, stuff like that, but I was soon singing tenors so I was singing harmony parts. And then when I started to play in grade 9 at Northern Vocational School here, I really wanted to play the trumpet because my brother played the trumpet. But when they got to McConnell MCC, they didn’t have any trumpets left. So he said, “All we have is a trombone. And I said, well, it’s down an octave, but I’ll give it a try.”

Ross Porter: So in the 50s, what kinds of bands were you playing with?

Rob McConnell: Well, you know, I started in high school and I quit high school in grade 10, my second year of grade 10, I’m ashamed to say, and I went west. Go west young man, you know, whatever that is, and worked on an oil rig for about seven months, way up north of everything. And then I came back to Edmonton and I had cash money. So I went in the most famous music store in Edmonton and I bought a brand new trombone and put the cash on the counter in sight of those in the store, $250 or so. And so then I started practicing and I started playing around Edmonton, you know, like club dates and, oh you know, the odd Bar Mitzvah or whatever, you know, just kind of crappy jobs.

Ross Porter: Deciding that it was time for him to come home to Toronto and to get serious about his career. Rob piled into an old beat up car with no muffler and headed east. Joining him on the journey were brothers Don and Lloyd Thompson and Winnipeg piano player Bob Erlendson.

Rob McConnell: We were completely flat, busted broke by the time we got around Winnipeg. At that time we were siphoning gas so we could make a day’s drive.

Ross Porter: Siphoning gas from other people’s cars?

Rob McConnell: Yes, yeah. Usually used car lots or, you know. It would be at night, you know, in the dark. We got here and that was kind of, okay, now I’m home, now I‘m going to start trying to get some work here.

Ross Porter: It was the 1950s and the Toronto music scene was very much alive. Seedy rock and roll clubs littered the Young Street strip popping out the hits of the day to a well liquored crowd. Rob found himself stringing together a living by finding work playing in many of these clubs including one of the rowdiest, the Zanzibar Tavern.

Rob McConnell: Women take their clothes off there, now.  I think I haven’t been in there in a while – I don’t really want to see it again. I sang and played the piano and the trombone and we sang songs of the day, you know, mostly early rock and roll.

Ross Porter: And what was that like?

Rob McConnell: Well it’s long hours, low pay, and I was studying with Gordon Delmont then and I had to get my lessons done and stuff like that. I wasn’t a very good student.

Ross Porter: What was the clientele like back then?

Rob McConnell: Oh, a bunch of drunks, you know. A lot of them were kind of gangsters. One night, I knew all their names and they’d buy me a beer, you know, they were all friendly. They’d have this kind of crap game that was based in going into the washroom of places all. You know bars; and it was a set up.

Ross Porter: In the early 60s Rob left Canada briefly for New York where he spent time playing and touring with Maynard Ferguson. He returned to Toronto a short time later when he joint Phil Nimmons in his big band Nimmons ‘n Nine plus Six.

Phil Nimmons: What happened with the band, it was originally like, Nimmons ‘n Nine and we added six brass and of course, Rob was one of the trombone players that was added to the band that time. Rob was always a very vital individual and you could sense the sort of leadership qualities at that time and a tremendous sense of conviction about what he wanted to see happen. You know, and so, it was a great asset, both musically and more than that, we’ve been very close friends ever since then.

Ross Porter: He was still part of the Nimmons group when the idea struck him to form a big band of his own, a band that would define him for years to come. It was the beginning of The Boss Brass.

[Music]

Ross Porter: Did The Boss Brass come together by design? Or out of evolution?

Rob McConnell: Well, it was designed, Pat Williams did a gig. Pat Williams, the arranger, who lived in New York, he did an album of pop tunes with a New York studio band and it was very good. I forget what it was called, but I went with that idea to Lyman Potts at the Canadian Talent Library was just part of CFRB at the time.

Ross Porter: Formed in 1962, the Canadian Talent Library was conceived by Lyman Potts as a way of producing commercially viable music for air play on Canadian Radio Stations. A concept for which Rob’s initial idea for The Boss Brass fit perfectly.

[Music]

Guido Basso (founding member of The Boss Brass): Rob came up with this idea that he wanted to form a band without saxes and just have brass instruments, French horns, and trumpets and trombones, and percussion and rhythm section, which he did. And recorded some cover songs from the Hit Parade and like ‘Mrs. Robinson’ and ‘God Didn’t Make The Little Green Apples’, you know, and it became a big hit and people loved it. So then he got the band a gig at a place called The Savarin here in Toronto, which was a huge lounge, very, very large and with a nice stage on it. So we’d play there regularly and one night, Jerry Toff, Mo Kaufman, and Phil Nimmons, they led a whole bunch of saxophone players into the club with placards saying, unfair to saxophone players, you know. Boss Brass should have saxes and they came in during a ballad. We were playing something very, I think it was a guitar solo with Ed Bickert. It’s very quiet and all of a sudden these guys come in making all these rackets with their placards and the press was there of course, they took shots of that because they were told that they were going to do this. It was in the paper the next day and Rob decided right there and then. “Okay, enough of this, let’s have a real jazz band.”

Rob McConnell: I went from four horns to two. Fired one of the guitar players. No fender base. Add five saxophones, who all play woodwinds. The very first chart I did was Body and Soul, which was about 10 minutes long and then continued on, you know. I think that record, which was for a Toronto company.

Ross Porter: The Attic.

Rob McConnell: Yeah. People didn’t like the fact that the one, on Attic was called, “The Jazz Album.” Like they thought, well, you think you’ve heard jazz, well this is the jazz album. Well it wasn’t meant like that it was a poor title choice for me and because it wasn’t meant like that. It was just, finally we’re able to do a jazz album.

Ross Porter: From the 1976 Boss Brass released, The Jazz Album. Here’s ‘Body and Soul’.

[Music]

Jack Batten (former Globe and Mail jazz critic): The first time I heard the band. It was a thrill to hear them. The amazing thing is that Rob built it into something huge and wonderful. It was just a great band.

Rick Wilkins (tenor saxophonist and arranger): Rob was very into the music and he must’ve spent his countless hours writing all this music to get it right because when you show up and you rehearse it, you don’t want anything to be wrong. And he definitely knew kind of what he wanted in music and rehearsed the band that way. And he didn’t tolerate any kind of lack in musicianship; he always wanted your best efforts in trying to get it right. If you weren’t in your best effort, you’d get cussed out pretty badly and if you did it more than a few times, there’d be a new guy in the chair there. That’s how it went, you know.

Alex Dean (Boss Brass saxophonist): Well I just think that, you know, he’s gregarious. He enjoys a drink every now and then. He gets angry when things aren’t the way they’re supposed to be, when the music and himself and more likely the band and us are treated a certain way that he feels is not right, he is more than willing to raise his voice about it and let you know and also if you don’t give him exactly what he wants, he is more than willing to tell you in a loud and clear voice.

Ross Porter: The honor of playing with Rob McConnell and the Boss Brass attracted the best and most experienced musicians in the business and topping off this elite group of players was one of the most successful jazz musicians this country has ever produced, Mo Kaufman.

Mo Kaufman: There’s nothing like sitting, playing lead alto with some of the best musicians in the country and some of the best arrangements ever written. There’s a few of us guys of the same age ilk, we call ourselves the older boys, but because a lot of the younger guys in that band, when I say younger, I’m talking guys that are like in their 30s and 40s and guys like Rob, Guido Basso and myself and Rick Wilkins are sort of the older part of that band and we know each other as friends as well as musicians. And when you say the wit that Rob has, we can like crack each other up at any given time. He is a consummate musician. I respect him very much.

Arnie Chycoski (lead trumpet player): Mo is, I always consider him like a senior person. Mo was maybe 10 years older than him and yet he would rip into Mo. Mo, what are you doing? You know, like that. Treating him like little kids then. So, once you could realize that, that was part of the bear, you know, he was great. Just don’t argue with him.

[Music]

Ross Porter: The process of finding musicians to play your music. Walk me through that.

Rob McConnell: Well, you know when I was younger. I will probably be considered kind of a tough band leader. You know, come on boys, you know. I mean I was impatient and kind of strict, I think. I mean I always liked having laughs and good breaks and, let’s all go for a drink and, you know, things like that. I never treated anyone badly.

Ian McDougall (lead trombonist for the Boss Brass): You know, if you’re talking about an art, artist and art, you’re doing it because you want it to be the best it can be. And it became the best it could be and they said it was the best thing in the world. Best thing of its kind in the world at that time. So, is that worth it? Sure it’s worth it. You know, he was striving for perfection and we’re doing it and once in a while we’re not. You know, when you’re tired or something and he would lose it and we would lose it and in particular Guido would lose it and then these guys would come screaming at each other and then they kiss and make up afterwards, you know. Not literally kiss and make up, you know what I mean.

Guido Basso (flugelhorn and trumpet): The only time that I’ve had a problem is if he insulted somebody in the audience, that would embarrass me. There were times when I had to do my big feature number, ‘Portrait of Jenny’ and the introduction starts very quietly with woodwinds and flutes. So, it starts and one table would be acting up. So he stops, cuts the band off and tells the people to keep quiet. “Shut up!” and then he brings the band in again from the top and again, people are not responding. So, two or three false starts like that and then the people would get quiet. He’d tell them to shut up or get out! So they would. They would eventually just remain silent and on with his work. Those were difficult moments. Yeah! They were.

Ross Porter: Here’s The Boss Brass featuring Guido Basso on flugelhorn with Portrait of Jenny.

[Music]

I’m Ross Porter. You’re listening to a documentary: ‘Rob McConnell: The boss of The Boss Brass.’

Ross Porter: The 1970s were glory days for Rob McConnell and the A list of players who made up the Boss Brass. In Toronto work for musicians was both plentiful and profitable. At night the clubs were hoping with the sound of jazz echoing out onto the streets and during the daylight hours there were plenty of studio gigs to choose from. Everything from session work on albums to performing jingles for commercials to providing music scores for television and radio.

Rob McConnell: If you go, go back and get my book in 1972 and just show it to you, there is not a day when there isn’t three, four jobs on it.

Ross Porter: You’re talking about the Bob McLean show and.

Rob McConnell: That, which was 5 shows a week. At the same time we were doing Juliet Show, which was 5 a week, too. At the same time we’re doing a radio show from The Colonnade, which was five a week. Wayne and Schuster, I did Wayne and Schuster for 35 years. You know, I mean and then jingles and records and the Boss Brass. All of that went on at the same time.

Ross Porter: And was that good work? Was it satisfying to do?

Rob McConnell: No, we’d be bitching all the time about it. I mean I would be. It was trash generally.

Ian McDougall: Well sometimes Rob and I got, we were catalysts actually. We would spur each other on to do bad, be bad boys. It’s usually because we’ve been, you know, loaded with a couple of extra drinks or something like that, but you know, we have a good time together Rob and I. We would do the Bobby Benton Show and pre-record it and we got there to do the miming for the show, first of all we didn’t mime it. Rob and I had a case between us and we would be playing cribbage as the show was going on and they would give us shit for it, and certainly the leader wasn’t too thrilled with it, but Rob and I didn’t seem to give a shit so we did it anyway.

Guido Basso: He’s a guy who has taught bartenders all over the world how to make a Martini properly. You know, he goes to the bar and he says, I want a Martini, but I want to make it. I will come in there, let me get over this bar. Where’s the door? You know, he goes and helps himself to all the ingredients and shows the bartender how to make a proper Martini. I think it’s hell of a lot of gin and very little Vermouth and an olive and a twist, but it’s never the right combination, when other people make it. So, he has to make his own Martini and if he doesn’t like it then he’s the only one to blame.

Ross Porter: As the number of albums that The Boss Brass put out grew, so did the band’s stature and reputation. Each new release introduced new listeners to The Boss Brass and gained them an increasingly large fan based stemming from countries all around the world.

Ian McDougall: By popular demand we wound up going to Vegas. We did the Monterey Jazz Festival. We did the Playboy Jazz Festival at the Hollywood Bowl and we played in a few clubs in California, jazz clubs. And it’s amazing what a compliment to Rob for, when you look at the people sitting in the club and you’ve got Nelson Riddle, Hank Mancini sitting there, all the guys from the Tonight Show Band. Doc Severinson of that band. Composers. Woody Herman also. You know, we did two shows, you do the first show and go outside because the club was smoky and it’s not a very large club. So you go outside for a breath of fresh air and you see these big-named band leaders and musicians lined up for the second show because they’d throw everybody out at the end of the show and then if you want to catch the second one you have to pay another cover charge, you know. So, I would say that, that was probably one of the only, as far as I know, the only jazz band that became a name band all over the world. It’s quite an accomplishment. Yeah, it is. It looks good on Rob.

Ross Porter: And the awards piled up including Grammy’s and Juno’s.

Rob McConnell: I’ve given them all away.

Ross Porter: Have you?

Rob McConnell: Yeah.

Ross Porter: Where did they go?

Rob McConnell: Don’t tell Juno. Well, grandchildren. I have seven grandchildren. So I gave them all away and then all except the youngest, I guess. Then I had a couple of kids that lived across the street from me in Peterborough that helped me with various things, the pool and all the garden, cleaning up leaves and stuff like that. So I gave them each one and I put a new label on it. So I said, “To the world’s best neighbors,” and gave them both one.

Ross Porter: And how many Grammy’s?

Rob McConnell: Three.

Ross Porter: And where are they?

Rob McConnell: I have one. I don’t know where the other two went. Probably with my two daughters. I was nominated for 17 Grammys and I won three in three different categories.

Ross Porter: For your work with the Boss Brass?

Rob McConnell: Yep.

Ross Porter: So, world-class band. That kind of recognition from the industry.

Rob McConnell: Yeah, I don’t think anybody can top 17 nominations and three wins in three different categories. Best Band. Best arrangement. Best arrangement accompanying a vocal.

Alex Dean: That’s pretty amazing. When you think about it, three Grammys. I don’t think anybody in Canada knows that Rob has got three Grammys. I’d be surprised. You know. I don’t know if the awards mean that much to Rob. Maybe they mean more now that he is older and he’s starting to slow down. Maybe mean a little bit more, but at the time he would get the award, but, you know, I think at one point, it was Toshiko Akiyoshi got an award for a Grammy or something and then she went and made the speech and she said, “This is very nice, but what I really need is a job.”

Well, I think that’s sort of a way Rob looked at the awards, you know. It’s very nice to get these awards and stuff, but what I really need is a gig. I really need to be touring and working with this band and I need to do it. It doesn’t have to be easy. I just need to do that and, people always give you these awards and that’s great, but really we’re musicians. We just want to play. I mean, that’s what we want to do, we want to play. We want to hang out. We want a couple of pops. We want to play some hard music and make it sound good. Sit in the bus. That’s what we want to do. It’s fun, you know, and I think that’s what Rob is about to a certain degree.

And I think, to a certain degree he is an anti kind of guy in a way because on the one hand he doesn’t necessarily get a lot of the respect that he deserves possibly because he’s a cantankerous individual and on the other hand, complains a little bit that, you know, it would be nice if he got paid a little bit or got the respect that he deserve, you know, it’s kind of like six to one that have this to the other. I think he would be happy if, you know, if his big band records and his quintet records and his trio records had sold billions and billions and everybody was happy and he was touring all the time, but he never got an award. I think he’d be happier with that.

Ross Porter: One of Rob’s Grammy awards recognized a very special collaboration in his career. It was an award for one of the two studio albums that the Boss Brass recorded with a man they called, the Velvet Fog, Mel Torme’.

Rob McConnell: He was damn musical. He had a great ear. He very seldom made a mistake. There was a couple of charts that I can’t sing and I wrote them.

Ross Porter: By the time of their first collaboration Mel was a seasoned veteran with a reputation for sharing many of the same traits as Rob, both were seen as opinionated and wouldn’t settle for anything short of perfection. For the guys in The Boss Brass. The bets were in. They were all curious to see how two of the most temperamental musicians in the music business were going to get along when challenged with working together in the high pressure environment of a recording studio.

Rob McConnell: We had a really funny chart. I was quite sure it would be okay, but I was worried that Mel might not like it. He liked the tune. And we had a certain amount of trouble with people high up in the company that, there are three guys on the record company and an engineer, none of them from Toronto and none of them had been at any other dates I’ve done. We worked on it quite hard. We did I think two takes and we’re going for take three the suit people in the booth are asking about, is that note right and I had to go in give them a little talk into and I said, “Now, here’s the situation you guys.” I said, “I‘m the band leader and I’m the arranger. It’s Mel Torme’s record and he’s the engineer. I don’t want anybody else to have any opinion or open his mouth about the music. That’s all been decided a long time ago and has taken a long time. And getting a take on this Goddamn thing is taking a long time too and I’m not pleased about that, but I’m certainly not pleased when you’re giving advice. So, button up.”

So that was our little meeting and then I came back and the band all heard me and so then, Mel was standing right near me. He said, “You know, what is bothering me about this chart and the band?” You know, so like this and I‘m saying, so I’m standing there and the booth is listening too and they’re hoping that he doesn’t like it and he says, I said, “No what is it Mel?” And he says, “I’m starting to like it.”

Ross Porter: From the 1995 album, ‘Velvet and Brass’. Here is Mel Torme singing the Grammy Award winning Rob McConnell arrangement, ‘I Get A Kick Out Of You.’

[Music]

I’m Ross Porter and you’re listening to Canada’s premier jazz station Jazz FM 91. You’re listening to a documentary: ‘Rob McConnell: The boss of The Boss Brass.’

Ross Porter: For 32 years the Boss Brass towered over the big band scene. They recorded dozens of albums, which earned them both critical praise and countless awards and throughout this amazing run it was Rob McConnell who stood at the center of it all and kept The Boss Brass moving.

So, 32 years. What kept you doing it?

Rob McConnell: Well I had work most of the time and my late wife Margaret said in 2000, you know, she said, Rob you got to start addressing this problem here. If you have a band that only works three times in a year, you don’t have a band do you? You have three gigs for a big band.

Ross Porter: How long had you kicked it around before you announced that it was over.

Rob McConnell: Not long Ross. Our last gig is in 2000. I had already started writing in 1998 for the 10-piece band. So, my wife’s and my discussions about, do you have a band if you only work three times in one year, which was the year 2000 and I said no and the first thing I have to do is write for a band that’s half that size because I can’t make any money myself and I can’t pay the guys in the band. You know, it’s just what bands are left now that are playing around? Not much. Like it’s a big enough insult to pay Guido Basso and Mel Kaufman and Ed Bicker and Terry Clark and Don Thompson and all these all stars of Canadian music, $250 for a concert and I’ll take the same. I’ll take $250 too. It’s just not enough. You can’t do it for that. You know what I’m saying. And it’s too much money. It’s almost $5,000, you know, by the time you – and nobody will pay you $5,000. So, I’ll do it with 10 people. I still want $5,000.

Guido Basso: Rob formed a tentet and I was in the tentet with the other boys and that was fun for a while and I think at the moment the tentet is dormant. Rob is getting himself together again because he has not been well and I certainly hope that the sun shines on him again.

Rob McConnell: I had some trouble with my balance and stuff this summer, well this year.

And then I had a fall down at the Rex one night and so I missed the second night. I fell down and was taken to the hospital and musician humor is that one by one every guy in the band wanted to call me and say how good it sounded without me. So, okay, they played my book and he said, boy it was really good the second night without you, you know. It’s too bad you couldn’t have heard it.

Ross Porter: What have you learned about yourself over the last few months?

Rob McConnell: Well, nothing much I haven’t changed anything. I take a lot more drugs and I’ve seen, I’m on doctor number 13 I think now. So, I’m hopeful. I have got McConnell heart disease, grandfather’s, father, elder brother, me, my younger brother. My younger brother has five stents. So it’s just, you know, welcome to the club.

Ross Porter: How has all of this changed your outlook? Or has it changed your outlook on life?

Rob McConnell: Well it has a little bit. I haven’t been playing. It got so, well I don’t want to talk about it anymore, but I only have three arteries left, like two are closed, but they are not important, but it can’t get down to just one.

Ross Porter: Rob’s trombone has been sitting quiet since his heart troubles began, but the illness hasn’t dampened Rob’s spirit or his love for the music, even as just a listener and fan.

Rob McConnell: I have an iPod now and it has really revitalized my listening to music. Two years ago my first wife died, Margaret, and Jean Purling of the Singers Unlimited and Helen came to our, we didn’t have a real funeral. We had a reception in my son’s house and I had listened to the iPod on his veranda the last visit I had at his place in Marin County.

Well, he brought the iPod that I had listened to at his house because he bought a better one and he’s programmed everything so I‘ve got an iPod, a 25 gigabyte iPod with 4,000 tunes on it of everything you can imagine. Some classical music a lot of piano players, some Singers Unlimited, some Hi Lo’s, some Rob McConnell, Ian McDougall. And if you just put them on random play you don’t even remember the last time you heard it, you know, because they just go back like, while they are unplugged. They go back to random.

Yeah, I could never find anything I wanted if I had it with me now I’d want you to hear something and of course it would take me about nine hours to find it, but it’s just so little trouble. There’s always beautiful music, Bob McFerrin and oh gosh they are just swooning some things. It exhausts me actually. And the girl I live with. She can tell when I’ve been listening. You know, if she’s in another room or comes home from work or whatever, she says “Did you have a nice afternoon with the iPod?” Because I sing.

Ross Porter: Rob’s influence as a big band arranger will live on for many years. His international acclaim and stature has earned him a proud place in the history of jazz. His strong sense of determination helped push himself as well as the musicians around him to extraordinary heights through his desire for excellence and his stubbornness to settle for nothing less. He was able to achieve something that was and will continue to be truly magnificent.

One last thing before we wrap it up. It’s a quote, ‘When I’m [Rob McConnell] asked ‘What do you really want to do?’ Well, I really want to be in charge.’

Rob McConnell: I remember saying that. I forget where, but that’s why being the band leader is best for me. I’m not really a good side man because I’m trying to change things for somebody else because I think they’re not doing the right thing. You know, I think I was a pain for several band leaders that I played for. I think

Guido Basso once said that he played lead trumpet from the fifth chair: “I’m playing fifth trumpet, but I’m telling all the other trumpets how to play”. So that’s what I do in a band of my own. So the best idea is to get your band and you can tell them what do.

And you have to be a writer really, you can’t have a band and just ask people to write for you. You have to pay them. The only reason I did it because I didn’t have to pay me, you know. I used all my money, I have no money. I used all the money I made from studio work in those busy times. I used it running my band and at a loss, you know, it’s expensive, but I had a lot of fun.

[Music]

You’ve been listening to ‘Rob McConnell: The boss of the Boss Brass,’ an original documentary on Jazz FM 91.”

Here’s a video tribute to Rob and The Boss Brass that uses as its audio track one of Rob’s arrangement in which he combines Horace Silver’s Peace into a medley with trumpeter Blue Mitchell’s Blue Silver.

As Rob explained: “Blue’s original choruses are hard enough to play when you can practice them, let alone create them instantly on a record date, as Blue did … whew!”

Terry Clarke, the first drummer with The Boss Brass, said to me recently: “Rob McConnell was some kind of big band arranger; they don’t come any better.”

I’m sure going to miss Rob McConnell.

He was a boss arranger.

Mike Abene's arrangement of Horace Silver's "Cookin' at the Continental" - GRP All Star Big Band

Celebrating Mike Abene's birthday with his brilliant arrangement of Horace Silver's "Cookin' at the Continental" for the GRP All-Star big band. Mike orchestrates a section of Horace's piano solo from the original Blue Note quintet recording to form a shout chorus that begins at 3:22 minutes. Mike has been one of the very best Jazz big band arrangers for a long, long time. A true national treasure.

Strike Up The Band - Buddy DeFranco and Oscar Peterson.

After I finished listening to this masterpiece, I realized that I had just held my breath for two minutes and thirty seconds! Arrangement by Hank Garcia. Another gift to the Jazz World from Norman Granz.