Cal Tjader - The 1957 Downbeat Interview

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

Lately, I’ve been on a vibraphonist and percussionist Cal Tjader “jag” - [for those who may not be aware, the “T” is silent in his last name and it's pronounced “Jader”].

The dictionary definition of “jag” that I am referring to is “to be completely unrestrained” in the sense of listening to all the music I can lay my hands on regarding certain artists and checking the Jazz literature to see what I can find to form a piece about him/her that I can put up on my page - these include insert notes.

Here’s one of the earliest features in the Jazz literature on Cal in which he discusses his approach to Jazz and how it developed. It took place a few years after he took on  the leadership of his own quintet following stints with Dave Brubeck and George Shearing,

The interview was published in the September 5, 1957 edition of Downbeat by John Tynan who its West Coast editor.

“So far as Cal Tjader is concerned he hopes “they never take Jazz out of the saloons.”

Not that he overindulges. But he doesn't believe the same mood and unfettered spirit for the music can prevail in a more formal environment.

"Not too long ago," explained the 32-year-old Missourian, "the quintet played a couple of weeks in the Los Angeles Jazz Concert hall. Now this was a formal, concert-type presentation of jazz. But you know something? I wouldn't care for it as a steady diet. It just wouldn't make it for me. You get a little lazy, and the groove isn't there when you play to an audience of sitters and listeners. Of course, I do want people to listen to us—but relaxed, not too deliberate. In a club, the audience and the band can let their hair down."

ONE POSSIBLE reason Tjader places so much stock in a thoroughly relaxed audience could be that his group plays a lot of dances, principally in the Los Angeles area, in Spanish-speaking communities.

"I like people to dance to the Latin stuff," he said emphatically. "At one of our dances in the Sombrero ballroom, for example, you can play a montuna, and everybody is responsive to it. Of course, in clubs you have to gear it more to the listener; but to me this is much more rewarding than playing to row-upon-row of concert listeners.

"And when you feel that you can just play to a dancing audience, there's an emotional kick - the pressure's off. It gives me a real boot when one of the dancers will come to the stand and say with real sincerity, 'Ey, I sure like your progressive mambo, man.’” Tjader's fresh face brightened in one of his frequent grins.

Leader of his own quintet for the last 3 ½  years, since he left the George Shearing group early in 1954, the vibist-drummer was born Callen Radcliffe Tjader Jr. in St. Louis, Mo., 1925.

COMING FROM A musical show business family (his father was a dancer with the Duncan Sisters, playing the Orpheum vaudeville circuit when Cal was born; his mother a student concert pianist), it was a small surprise that at 2 Cal already was a piano pupil of his mother. This was in 1927 when the family moved to San Mateo, Calif., where his parents opened a dance studio.

After an introduction to drums in high school, Cal joined the navy in 1943. Upon discharge three years later, he enrolled in San Francisco State college, majoring in music and education. Latching onto an old set of vibes, he began teaching himself to play the instrument and was shortly sitting in with local groups around the bay area.

In 1948, while still a student, Tjader met Dave Brubeck, who then was studying at Mills college. With bassist Ron Crotty, he joined Brubeck to form the original trio led by the piano man.

Three years later, in 1951, he left to form his own quartet in San Francisco.

In 1953, Cal disbanded to join Shearing on vibes.

"One of the chief compensations of being with Shearing," he said, "was that back east I got to hear a lot of Machito, Tito Puente, and Noro Morales. 

Those bands had a tremendous effect on me. Immediately I wanted to reorganize a small combo along the same lines, only with more jazz feeling incorporated in the Latin format."

THE FRUITION OF this desire was in the formation of his first so-called mambo quintet in 1954. A booking at San Francisco's Macumba got the group off to a good start.

In addition to its six-month stint at the club, the first albums on Fantasy quickly established the quintet as a new unit to be reckoned with in concerts and clubs on the west coast. Today, according to Fantasy's Sol Weiss, Tjader is the label's biggest seller. In 1955, after a nationwide tour, Cal won new star laurels in Down Beat's Jazz Critics poll for his performance on vibes.

In June,1956,he radically reorganized his "mambo quintet." In effect, this entailed his dropping the mambo tag and placing the emphasis on jazz appeal.

It took about a month before he crystallized a new concept for the group; when he began taking bookings again, it was a predominantly jazz quintet that hit the road.

THE PRIMARY REASON for this change, according to Tjader, is that "Latin has its definite limitations, especially from the standpoint of improvisation. It's like a hypnotic groove. First you set the rhythmic pattern, then the melodic formulae follow — until pretty soon you realize there's not much real music invention happening.

"See, the Latin percussionist's conception of time is very straight, rigid," he elaborated. "It's not really loose like it has to be for jazz. That's why there's nothing more of a drag than having Latin percussionists sit in with a jazz group. Generally they seem to lack that loose, free rhythmic way of blowing. But on the other hand, you can take a jazz number like Bernie's Tune, for instance, and adapt it to Latin treatment, still preserving the flavor of both styles of music."

These days, Cal is not so much concerned with preserving Jazz feeling within a Latin context as he is with blowing straight Jazz in an identifying manner. 

As collaborators to this end, he can count on Vince Guaraldi, former Woody Herman piano man; Eugene Wright, bassist who played with many varieties of groups from Count Basie to Sarah Vaughan; and his steady versatile drummer, Al Torre. Then, to widen the appeal of every set, Latin percussionist Louis Kant contributes to several numbers in the Ritmo Caliente vein.

On the subject of an identifying sound, Cal is a stickler. “If you can get a real sound of your own, it’s half the battle,” he insists. “In fact, I believe a group sound is more important to make a band go over than the individual improvising talents of its members.”

“Of course, I realize that most groups starting out today will have to sound like some other existing units. This can’t be helped, but it doesn’t mean they still can’t play worthwhile Jazz.”

“It takes time to evolve a sound of your own. Look at the Modern Jazz Quartet: they were working for perhaps three years before they caught on and really got their identifying sound. For us the Latin thing worked. But there’s no law that says we had to stick to it. I think we’ve proved by now that we can make it with straight Jazz.”

With his breakthrough into chi chi haunt [stylish setting] of Hollywoodiana, Ciro’s on the Sunset Strip, Cal sees no reason why the quintet shouldn’t play similar rooms throughout the nation. As he views it, it boils down to living up to your responsibilities to an audience.

“You don’t necessarily have to be smiling all the time,” he explains. “You’re trying to sell Jazz right? Then you have to have a responsible presentation.The MJQ appeals admirably there. They’ve got a freedom in their individual playing, but as a group they’re disciplined. This is the most important thing, I believe.”

The vibist drummer, a well-scrubbed Joe-College type in a searsucker, has much to say regarding Jazz rooms. While a lot of this is unprintable, much of it is praise for happy rooms that are conducive to playing.

He rates San Francisco’s Blackhawk as one of these. Another of these he considers as an ideal room is Zucca’s Cottage in Pasadena, CA. 

“One more thing,” he added emphatically. In every contract that a band signs when it takes a club engagement, there should be a specific clause that the piano should be tuned to A440 [440 Hz, which serves as a tuning standard for the musical note of A above middle C].”

“Well,” he said with a wistful smile, “club owners being what they are, maybe that’s a lot to expect.”

LATIN ESCAPADE - George Shearing

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

Sometimes I wonder if fans of Jazz who grew-up listening to the music in the analog era realize how fortunate we are that so much of it has been reissued in digital CD and Mp3 formats.

Since Jazz, in general, accounts for less than 3% of all recordings sold, it is amazing how much of it has been subsequently released in digital configurations.

Although not all of my favorite LPs have been included in this transition, fortunately, over time, most have and I for one am very grateful for the convenience of having some of the more obscure among these in a digital conversion.

One such album is Latin Escapade [Capitol T737] which features pianist George Shearing and his quintet. In addition to George, the quintet is made up of a guitarist, vibraphonist, bassist and drummer. Although these are all instruments that must be struck or plucked, George’s group has managed to achieve one of the more beautiful and easily identifiable sounds in Jazz.

The uniqueness of “the Shearing Sound” comes from the way the group states the melody of each tune. This is formed by Shearing playing blocked chords around the notes of the melody with each hand an octave apart and the vibes playing in unison up an octave from the piano’s right hand and the guitar playing in unison down and octave from the piano’s left hand. 

When hearing "The Shearing Sound," essentially the listener is experiencing a melody that is harmonized into four-parts in which Shearing's upper melody note is doubled on vibes and the lower note is doubled on guitar.

You can hear this four octave span quite distinctly on every track of Latin Escapade. Each of the album’s twelve [12] tracks is less than 3.30 minutes.

Here are some YouTube videos that will provide you with a Shearing Sound sampling of the music from the album. 

Along with vibraphonist Cal Tjader, who had occupied the vibes chair in George’s quintet before forming his own combo, Shearing was one of the earliest adapters of Latin rhythms in a small group setting.  Many of his 1950’s album contained Latin Jazz tracks or were thematically based on Latin Jazz themes as was the case with Latin Escapade.

George developed such a deep interest in Latin rhythms that he went so far as to  insert a segment in his club sets or concert performances that highlighted tunes with a Latin-flavor. During these Latin features, Shearing would augment his quintet with conga drums and timbales with the Jazz drummer in the group playing various Latin percussion instruments, thus creating the instrumentation for authentic Afro-Cuban rhythms. 

Of course, George was always a very commercial-minded musician [in other words, he liked to eat regularly and pay his rent on time] and it certainly didn’t escape his attention that dancing to the [then, newly-introduced] Mambo rhythm was a craze that swept the US in the 1950’s.

Hence, the following Mambo with Me cut from Latin Escapade: 

The long-playing record provided Jazz groups with room to “stretch-out” take longer solos] and it was not uncommon for Jazz LP’s to have 2 or 3 tracks per side that produced 18-20 minutes of music per side.

During his career [1919-2011], Shearing did make some LP’s with fewer cuts per side, especially with the quintet in performance, but he made many more with the more commercial or popular music format of 12 tracks per LP.

Although Latin Escapade belongs in the latter category, its finely crafted and well-executed arrangements, while easy on the ear, are anything but commercial.

With none lasting longer than 3:35 minutes, each of the album’s twelve tracks is a miniature musical masterpiece. 

George is the only soloist and during his solos he reveals a thorough familiarity with Latin Jazz piano stylings; particularly the heavy use of riffs and “montuno” [repetitive refrain.

All of these qualities are reflected in this YouTube which uses vintage postcards of Cuba from the University of Miami’s collection and Mi Musica Es Para Ti [“My Music is For You”] from the from the album as its audio track.

George has always had an ear for pretty melodies. He can swing hard, too, but his affinity for appealing airs results in a healthy variety of ballads on all of his recordings. He always arranges his treatment of such tunes very artfully so as to further enhance their beauty and, in many cases, their romantic or alluring aura.

At a time in the 1950’s and 60’s when AM radio in Southern California still offered programs that specialized in “mood music,” it was not uncommon to hear a Shearing Sound ballad treatment during one of these late night broadcasts.

One such example of Shearing charming way with a ballad can be found on his Latin Escapade interpretation of Ray Gilbert and Osvaldo Farres’ haunting Without You that serves as the audio track to this You Tube commemorating The Shearing Sound.

Over the years, in addition to leading his marvelous quintet, George performed with Nat King Cole, Peggy Lee, Mel Torme and a host of other vocalists. including, toward the end of his career, guitarist and vocalist, John Pizzarelli.

In addition to the recordings that he has made with these artists, George has a substantial discography under his own name – none better than Latin Escapade [1956].

After sampling the music on this album, we hope you will agree.

Gerry Mulligan, 'Rebirth of the Cool' - 1991

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

“When the seminal gatherings for the Miles Davis Orchestra first took place in 1947, Gil Evans was the old man at thirty-five; Miles Davis was twenty-one; and Gerry Mulligan was still only twenty years old.  He had already contributed excellent arrangements to the Elliot Lawrence and Gene Krupa bands, and, as has been mentioned earlier, one of his charts, "Disc Jockey Jump," had become a hit after having been recorded by the Gene Krupa Orchestra.  Even at that early age Mulligan was circulating among the best of the swing and modern musicians, including Charlie Parker.  Both his performing talent and his precocious genius were clearly recognized by his colleagues.

Mulligan, like Evans, gained his compositional skills and arranging craft not at a college or conservatory but on his own, for he left high school for the road. His performance abilities as the premiere baritone saxophone soloist are well known by most jazz fans, but it is a lesser known fact that he was also a truly versatile single-reed instrumentalist, playing other saxophones as well as the clarinet at a remarkably high professional level. ….

Of the twelve numbers recorded by the Miles Davis Orchestra for Capitol Records in 1949 and 1950, the largest number—six—were arranged by Mulligan, three were composed by him, and he also played on all the tracks. In addition, he composed and arranged another piece for the band, ")oost at the Roost." On the basis of these accomplishments, he must be credited as a major architect of the Miles Davis nonet and as a founding father of the style and movement called cool jazz. In the immediate period after these recordings, he, like Miles Davis, faced a difficult time artistically and financially, and in 1951 he hitchhiked from New York to California while seeking greater opportunities in jazz.  His chance soon came, just as did Davis's, but these two men, who remained friends over the years, followed dissimilar musical paths from this point on.”

• Frank Tirro, The Birth of the Cool of Miles Davis and His Associates [2009]

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

- Jeffrey Sultanoff, Bill Kirchner, ed., The Oxford Companion to Jazz [p.512]

“There has been some rewriting of the history books on behalf of Mulligan and pianist/arranger John Lewis vis-a-vis the original Birth Of The Cool. Mulligan is on record as feeling that the project was subsequently hijacked in Miles Davis's name. Though Miles 'cracked the whip', it was Lewis, Gil Evans and Mulligan who gave the music its distinctive profile. In 1991, Mulligan approached Miles regarding a plan to re-record the famous numbers, which were originally released as 78s and only afterwards given their famous title. Unfortunately, Miles died before the plan could be taken any further, and the eventual session featured regular stand-in Roney in the trumpet part. With Phil Woods in for Lee Konitz, the latter-day sessions have a crispness and boppish force that the original cuts rather lacked. Dave Grusin's and Larry Rosen's production is ultra-sharp  …. An interesting retake on a still-misunderstood experiment, Re-Birth sounds perfectly valid on its own terms.”

• Richard Cook and Brian Morton, The Penguin Guide to Jazz on CD, 6th Ed.

Interestingly, the first decade of Gerry’s career ended with his major involvement in what collectively came to be famously known as The Birth of the Cool recordings. The last year of his career began with recordings that he labeled The Rebirth of the Cool. 

Whatever the back story or, if you will, motivation, Gerry’s enduring friendship with Dave Grusin, co-owner of GRP Records along with Larry Rosen, resulted in a four-decades-later make-over of the 1949 Birth of the Cool recordings with some additions and subtractions in both the compositions and the personnel.

As explained in the commentary that opens this piece, Gerry had approached Miles Davis about a reunion to produce a new and different version of the original recordings. Of course, we can only surmise how this revisit by two of the principals associated with the original recordings might have turned out, but in a way, Miles’ ultimate declination and subsequent death brought forth other possibilities.

As Richard Cook and Brian Morton note - “Phil Woods in for Lee Konitz, the latter-day sessions have a crispness and boppish force that the original cuts rather lacked. Dave Grusin's and Larry Rosen's production is ultra-sharp  …. An interesting retake on a still-misunderstood experiment, Re-Birth sounds perfectly valid on its own terms.”

And David Badham in the 1992 November edition of Jazz Journal was pleased to note “ … that this reprise of Miles Davis's landmark session was 38 percent longer than the original. Almost exactly 43 years after the original Move date for Capitol, these come up absolutely fresh and vital, and quite as good as anything produced since in this vein. Personally, I have always regarded the original sessions as Gerry Mulligan’s not Miles Davis’s since he arranged seven of the 12 numbers and was by far the most impressive solo voice! If anything he is even better now, so I wel­come this issue wholeheartedly.”

More information about how and why The Rebirth of the Cool came about is contained in these liner notes by Leonard Feather that accompanied the GRP CD [GRD-9679].

“It all began in a basement room behind a Chinese laundry on West 55th Street in New York. Gil Evans, who lived there in the late 1940s, was a magnet for some of the forward-looking musicians of the day: Charlie Parker ("Bird"], the composers Gerry Mulligan, John Lewis, George Russell and John Carisi, saxophonist Lee Konitz, and, of course, Miles Davis.

"Everyone seemed to gravitate to Gil's place," Gerry Mulligan recalls. "We all influenced one another, and Bird influenced us all."

Bebop had brought startling innovations to jazz. Gerry, Miles, Gil and others foresaw the possibility of a new dimension that would allow an orchestral vision integrating bop's characteristics with written elements.

As Gerry pointed out, "We wanted the arrangers to have useful orchestral colors to work with, at the same time retaining the lightness and freedom of a small band." After much deliberation, this is the instrumentation Gil and Gerry decided on.

"One of the things that made it practical to use instruments such as tuba and French horn in the ensemble was that there were players who were already trying to adapt their instruments to a new approach. When Gil first told me about Bill Barber, he said Bill liked to transcribe Lester Young solos for tuba!"

Much of the inspiration stemmed from the Claude Thornhill Orchestra, to whose library both Evans and Mulligan had contributed. In fact, it was Gil who brought the, then, 19 year old Mulligan into the Thornhill orbit.

But it was Miles Davis who, as Gerry explained it, "...put the theories to work, called the rehearsals, hired the halls, and generally cracked the whip."

Move, Jeru, Godchild and Budo were recorded January 21, 1949, and were released as two 78s. Venus de Milo, Boplicity, Israel and Rouge were cut three months later, and the final session in March of 1950 yielded Moon Dreams, Deception, Rocker and Darn That Dream. In 1954, eight of the tunes were released on a 10 inch LP. Three years later a 12 inch LP, with all 11 instrumentals (omitting the vocal Darn That Dream), appeared under the Birth of the Cool title by which the sessions have been known ever since.

In the summer of 1991, in Rotterdam, Gerry told Miles he was planning to play the music again. Miles, who was very enthusiastic about the concert at the Montreux Festival two weeks before, (where he had played many of the great works Gil Evans had written for him, with an orchestra assembled by Quincy Jones), said to let him know when it was going to be. and maybe he would do it. Sadly, it was not to be.

With Miles' death the decision to find a suitable trumpet for this demanding role resulted in the selection of Wallace Roney, whose career had reached a high point when he joined Miles in an historic duet at the Montreux concert. Thus he was a logical choice for the "Re-Birth" project.

Gerry says, "He really understands something about Miles' melodic sense. He did some astounding melodic things on this album."

Gerry and Bill Barber were on all three of the original sessions, and John Lewis was on the last two. Gerry recalls, "John was Ella Fitzgerald's accompanist and it was just our bad luck that Ella was scheduled to record the same day as our first session!"

Lee Konitz, who was on all the early sessions, was originally scheduled to join the "Re-Birth" recording, but due to previous commitments that had him on the other side of the globe, it was impossible to get everybody together at the same place at the same time. "When Lee asked me who was going to take his place on alto, and I told him Phil Woods would like to do it, Lee laughed and said, 'I think you just invented the 'Birth of the Hot!"'

Gerry went on to say, "Phil told me he'd always wanted to play this music, so it was like a dream come true for him. He plays some absolutely fantastic solos and adds a great spirit to the whole project!"

Rounding out the "Re-Birth" group are trombonist Dave Bargeron and French hornist Dave Clark, both of whom were associated with Gil Evans in later years.

Gerry called on old friend and colleague Mel Torme to sing Darn That Dream, the one vocal in the collection. "Mel was happy to do this," Gerry says. "He always loved this instrumentation, and later on, my Tentet. In fact, he made an album with a similar instrumentation and we've talked for years about doing an album together along similar lines, which we'll get  around to eventually. When I told him we were doing this, he was eager to take part."

As these notes go to press, Gerry is planning a tour of the summer festivals with his Tentet, the instrumentation presented here, plus the addition of another trumpet and a clarinet. "We're introducing the band at the Ravinia Festival in Chicago (where Gerry is currently Artistic Director of their "Jazz in June" series), at the Anson Ford Amphitheatre in Los Angeles, and Carnegie Hall in New York.

The Birth of the Cool concept (which, in fact, was by no means as cool as the name implied!) lives on, some 40 years after Miles and Gil and Gerry and their fellow dreamers put their innovative ideas on record. It might well be added that the cool was not reborn, since for anyone who recalls its pristine

glory, it never really went away!”

-Leonard Feather

And here is an in performance review of the music by John Pareles that appeared in the June 30, 1992 NY Times 

Review/Jazz Festival; From Gerry Mulligan, 'Rebirth of the Cool'

“Each jazz era finds its own ancestors. Now that many musicians and audiences are turning toward music that prizes structure as well as solos, it's appropriate that Gerry Mulligan has decided to revive the arrangements he wrote and played with the Miles Davis Nonet more than 40 years ago. The music was collected in 1957 on an album titled "Birth of the Cool," and on Friday night Mr. Mulligan and a "tentet" (the nonet's lineup plus an extra trumpeter and saxophonist) performed at Carnegie Hall for a JVC Jazz Festival concert called "Rebirth of the Cool."

At the end of the 1940's, Davis, Gil Evans, Mr. Mulligan and other musicians were looking for a next step after be-bop, which had depended on small groups and extensive solos. They wanted to create ensemble arrangements that would reflect the convoluted harmonies and whiplash rhythms that be-bop had wrought. With Davis as leader, they assembled a nine-piece group that played a few club dates between 1948 and 1950, to a largely indifferent response among nonmusicians. But the recordings, made in 1949 and 1950, have endured. Musicians including Mr. Mulligan and another member of both the original nonet and the current tentet, the alto saxophonist Lee Konitz, have both worked with similar groups in the intervening decades. The tentet also included Bill Barber, another nonet member, on tuba.

For "Rebirth of the Cool," which preceded a European tour by the tentet, Mr. Mulligan followed an established jazz-repertory approach. He used the original arrangements and tempos while adding new solos, some of them variants on the recorded ones.

The two sets covered half the "Birth of the Cool" album, including Johnny Carisi's modal blues "Israel," Mr. Mulligan's arrangements of George Wallington's "Godchild" and his own "Jeru," Evans's arrangements of Chubby MacGregor's and Johnny Mercer's "Moon Dreams" and Davis's "Boplicity," and John Lewis's arrangements of Bud Powell's and Miles Davis's "Budo" and Denzil Best's "Move." The concert also included pieces from Mr. Mulligan's own repertory, among them "Blueport" by Art Farmer, the tentet trumpeter who had the unenviable task of taking on Mr. Davis's solos.

Jazz repertory can bring to life compositions that were muffled by the limitations of early recording. But the "Birth of the Cool" recordings are relatively recent, and the tentet had Carnegie Hall's acoustics to contend with. The hall makes trouble for amplified music, even at the relatively restrained volume of the tentet. Compared with the intimate recordings, much of the detail of the arrangements was smudged.

Even so, a new chance to hear the music was welcome. Mr. Mulligan and Mr. Konitz were both in fine form, Mr. Mulligan gruff and swaggering on baritone saxophone, Mr. Konitz leisurely and oblique on alto. And even after 42 years, the arrangements remain enigmatic, a corrective to the brassy extroversion of the big-band era. They use saw-toothed lines and close, dense harmonies, often played by instruments clustered in the low and middle registers (and thickened with French horn and tuba); they mull over the tunes, occasionally opening up to let a soloist step forward. The Evans arrangements are oddest of all, wrapping gauzy timbres around dissonances few other arrangers would even try, much less get away with.

For an encore, the tentet played "Satin Doll," and its relaxed symmetry was a reminder of all that the "Birth of the Cool" had willfully and gracefully sidestepped. The tentet also included Rob McConnell on valve trombone, Mike Mossman (who took some pointed solos) on trumpet, Ken Soderblum on saxophone and clarinet, Bob Routch on French horn, Ted Rosenthal on piano, Dean Johnson on bass and Ron Vincent on drums.”

Finally, the following was from a time when Jazz, if it got mentioned at all in a major newspaper, got mentioned briefly. Hats off to Zan Stewart for trying.

Pop, Jazz Reviews : Mulligan Breathes Life Into Old Work at Ford

BY ZAN STEWART

JUNE 22, 1992 LA Times

“Gerry Mulligan’s performance with an 11-piece band before a sell-out crowd at the John Anson Ford Theatre on Saturday proved once again that a contemporary airing can breathe an amazing amount of life into a work composed long ago.

The renowned baritone saxophonist and composer went back 40 years, reviving selections transcribed from the memorable 1949 and 1950 “Birth of the Cool” sessions led by Miles Davis, and which Mulligan recently re-recorded. On those sessions, Davis, along with Mulligan and others, examined be-bop-based material with a fresh sound, pitting the higher timbres of trumpet and alto sax against such low brass as trombone, French horn and tuba.

Mulligan’s aggregation, which included such esteemed jazzmen as trumpeter Art Farmer and alto saxophonist Lee Konitz, duplicated the instrumentation of the originals, except for the addition of an extra trumpet and a tenor sax-clarinet part. The band’s vibrant renditions of such well-preserved items as “Godchild,” “Boplicity” and “Moon Dreams” clearly demonstrated that these are not simply museum pieces, that they indeed have lasting power.

“Jeru” was distinctive for its dynamic climax, where the brass and reed sections tossed snappy lines back and forth. “Israel” began with the melody rendered by the low brass, then came the piercing brightness of trumpet and alto sax. Gil Evans’ dramatic arrangement of the oozingly slow “Moon Dreams” ended with a wall of soft sound, where instruments darted in and out, changing the work’s timbral color. The soloists were first-rate. Farmer’s ingenuity was quietly breathtaking as he took a series of brief phrases and strung them together into complex wholes. Konitz applied his one-of-a-kind sound, seemingly flat but really full of juice, to stretched-out notes and relaxed phrases that ran counter to the bubbling rhythm of a tune such as “Israel.” Mulligan swung with vitality and accessibility.”

THOMAS MOECKEL & RONNIE CUBER - JAZZ IN CONCERT 1990 (Part2)

Chuck Cecil: The Swingin’ Years [From The Archives]

© -Steven Cerra. Copyright protected; all rights reserved.

I first heard Chuck Cecil's radio program while tooling around greater Los Angeles in my yellow and white '55 Chevy with my buddies.  

In those days, we'd head out for a drive on one of the new freeways that seemed to open every other year as southern California expanded to accommodate it's every-growing population [we could sure use a few more of those, now]. 

It was fun to race across the newly laid surfaces at 65 mph with hardly another car in sight while grooving to the big band sounds of Charlie Barnet, or Stan Kenton or many of the others big bands from the Swing Era.

As of this writing in 2015, it was hard to believe that Chuck was still doing his radio program 67 years later.

At the age of ninety-one, he was as an inspiration to all of us to "do what you love and the rest will follow."

[by Charles Fleming writing for The Los Angeles Times 12.19.2013] 

"Chuck Cecil, [now 90 years old] went to his first big band show in 1939, driving with three high school friends in a Model A Ford to South Gate to see bandleader Jimmie Lunceford at the Trianon Ballroom.

The following year, he was at the opening of the Hollywood Palladium to see Tommy Dorsey and a skinny singer named Frank Sinatra.

Nearly three-quarters of a century later, Cecil is still swinging to the same music: His weekly big band radio show, "Swingin' Years," has been on the air almost continuously since it debuted in 1956.

It began as filler for an empty Saturday morning slot on Hollywood's KFI station and was later syndicated to more than 300 stations nationwide and broadcast internationally, on 240 ships and 170 military bases, by Armed Forces Radio Network. Though the show is now heard only on Long Beach's KKJZ and Long Island's WPPB, it reaches an average of 46,000 listeners a week.

His cheery Midwestern tones larded with corn-pone quips like "Let's split an egg and fry a watermelon," Cecil intersperses big band music with factoids about the songs and firsthand memories of the men and women who recorded them — the Detroit Tigers, for instance, were winning the World Series the day Bing Crosby recorded "Only Forever."

Now almost 91, the host seems a little mystified by the show's longevity — but not by the long-lived popularity of the music.

"It was an emotional time, and a hardship time, but it was a survival time," said the slim, white-haired Cecil, dressed in denim jeans and a chambray shirt that brought out the blue in his eyes. "That's why the music was so treasured. It did lift people's spirits during the Depression and the war."

Cecil was born the day after Christmas 1922 to a rancher who lost hundreds of heads of cattle and 650 acres of good Oklahoma land in the drought that brought on the Dust Bowl and preceded the Great Depression.

When his father couldn't feed his family of six anymore, he loaded them into a truck and drove to California, installing them in an apartment in Hollywood while he began building a house in what is now Sherman Oaks.

At Van Nuys High, he double-dated with local girls Jane Russell and Norma Jean Baker before they became movie stars (and Miss Baker changed her name to Marilyn Monroe). A drama teacher told him he had a good voice for radio.

During World War II, despite a childhood injury that left him with a lifelong limp, Cecil left a note for his mother saying he was going to enlist and might be late for dinner, and went off to join the Navy. He trained to fly Grumman Wildcats, and had just qualified for combat duty when the war ended.

By then, Cecil had already studied broadcasting at Los Angeles City College. Newly out of the service, he landed a job at a new station in Klamath Falls, Ore. The gig included doing a "remote broadcast" of a local performance by a 17-piece big band accompanied by a 16-year-old female vocalist.

Her name was Edna. When she turned 17, Cecil married her.

That was 1947. "Their" song was Perry Como's "They Say It's Wonderful."

When Cecil was hired by KFI in 1952, the big band years were already over. "Swingin' Years" was an exercise in nostalgia, right from its debut four years later.

"Big band music was in decline," Cecil said. "The big bands themselves were fading in popularity. It was vintage music."

But the show was a hit and became a weekly feature.

Chuck and Edna set up house in the San Fernando Valley, when it was still mostly orange groves, and raised four children. Cecil, by now a local celebrity, was made honorary mayor of Woodland Hills and asked to ride in open cars in local parades.

The show grew in popularity. Disneyland hired Cecil to do a series of "Swingin' Years" shows in 1961. Ronald Reagan did a "Swingin' Years" TV special in 1962. Cecil even hosted "Swingin' Years" cruises, sailing the Caribbean with bandleader Freddy Martin.

Cecil hung out with Harry James, lunched with Artie Shaw and Bing Crosby, and interviewed Peggy Lee in her boudoir. (He sat on the bed while the singer reclined.) Cecil recorded and archived the interviews, using them to introduce his listeners to the men and women behind the music.

Bandleader Shaw, Cecil remembers, invited him to his Newbury Park house and then insisted on doing the interview while driving to lunch. "It was the most terrifying drive of my life," Cecil said. "He was a wild driver."

The opportunity to interview Crosby arrived suddenly, when a record producer friend said, "I can get you in to see him, but you have to come while he's eating lunch." Cecil asked questions while Der Bingle ate a burger.

"This music is the voice of America, and he has documented it," said veteran deejay Bubba Jackson, who hosts an evening KJazz blues show. "Thanks to Chuck Cecil, that music will never disappear. He is one of the great historians of American culture."

Crooner Tony Bennett, who at 87 is three years younger than Cecil, called the radio host "a great jazz historian."

"I want to thank him for keeping the music alive," he said, "and for playing my records all these years!"

Today, the Cecils are spry and active, and walk a brisk three miles a day near their tidy Spanish-style home on a quiet Ventura street, where they moved 11 years ago.

"That's one of the reasons we moved to Ventura — because we can walk to the market, to the shops, to the doctor," Cecil said. "We can walk everywhere but the cemetery."

On Sunday, there's no walk. Instead, the Cecils attend church in the morning and go dancing in the afternoon.

Now almost 91, Chuck Cecil says big band music brings back good memories.

Cecil confessed he's no hoofer, though he and Edna did sign up for swing dance lessons a few years back.

"Radio announcers are like musicians," he said. "They generally can't dance."

Nevertheless, their Sunday ritual includes a circuit of big band-themed events at clubs in Ventura, Oxnard, Canoga Park and Simi Valley.

Each week, Cecil and his wife assemble "Swingin' Years" manually, without the aid of computers, for the Saturday and Sunday morning broadcasts. The recording studio is a back room of their home filled with casual photographs of the radio man sitting with jazz giants such as Woody Herman, Count Basie, Lionel Hampton and Bennett.

Working from a massive library of more than 30,000 78-, 45- and 33-rpm records, and his own personal library of interviews with 356 band leaders, singers and sidemen, Cecil mixes dance tunes, sentimental ballads, jazzy jumpers and novelty records. Often you can hear the sizzle of the needle on the platter.

Cecil said he sometimes tires of the 15 to 20 hours required to produce each week's "Swingin' Years" broadcasts. "I've done more than 20,000 hours of programming," he said. "Maybe that number has got my attention, but I've lost a little of my zip for the show."

Despite that, Cecil was planning to do a new "Swingin' Years" series on bandleaders and their theme songs — Glenn Miller's "Moonlight Serenade," Duke Ellington's "Take the 'A' Train" — and another on the lesser-known sidemen who worked for the famous bandleaders.

Almost none of the musicians Cecil admired or befriended are still alive.

"When you get past 90, people really start corking off," said Edna Cecil, who celebrates back-to-back birthdays with her husband, turning 84 on Christmas Day. "But not us!"

The Cecils' daughter Sherri recently returned to Ventura, moving in with her parents and bringing modern technology with her: the Internet.

As a result, Cecil was able to hear his own show for the first time since he moved to Ventura, which doesn't have a radio station that broadcasts "Swingin' Years."

A couple of Saturdays back, he and his wife tuned in to a live stream from WPPB in Long Island.

"I lit two candles and we sat there with sandwiches and wine and the music — for four whole hours," Edna Cecil said. "It was heaven."

She said her husband fails to appreciate his own contribution to the American music scene.

"He doesn't realize how important he has been," she said. "Many musicians tell him that — 'You kept the music alive.' But he doesn't have a clue.""

Dizzy Gillespie (1946) [NIGHT IN TUNISIA] - In the beginning