In remembering the great trombonist, Frank Rosolino, we remember a style that was engaging and attractive to the ear. His was a way of playing that was fast and fluid and had time enough to smile in between. Of all the great trombone players that have graced jazz no one player has had a happy sound deeply rooted into the bop lines as Frank Rosolino.
Some of the great moments came during his stint with the Stan Kenton band. Probably one of Kenton's greatest orchestras was the one that featured the writings of Bill Holman and Bill Russo. With soloists like Frank, Lee Konitz and Conte Condoli to name a few, the band was one of the more even orchestras of Kenton's career. Whatever any Kenton critic may have had to say about Kenton's sometimes heavy handed approach to jazz, any sensitive and understanding jazz listener could not deny this band to be one of the major moments in Big Band Jazz. Listen especially to a composition of Holman's show casing Rosolino's trombone titled; "Frank Speaking" to get a feel as to what this gifted musician was all about.
Jazz trombonists seem to be few and far between. Many have made deep indentations into the annals of jazz. However, Rosolino sort of cut through at a time where he immersed himself into the roots of Charlie Parker's structure and carried on from that point in time. He expanded this idiom on the West Coast being one of the prime identification marks of this period with Art Pepper and Hampton Hawes and all the rest of the musicians extending the scope of the music.
If you can find any issues of Rosolino's music, both as a sideman and a leader, you would be benefited and treated to one of the rarest of trombonists that ever graced our music. For those that had never been previously treated to his unique style and sound, you're in for a rare delicacy.
Take It From The
Top
Joe
Maini
In the early Sixties, living in Los Angeles, I had the opportunity to listen to jazz at many clubs in the area. During that period Terry Gibbs was leading an extraordinary Big Band that today is regarded as a classic. The Band, loaded with stars, Terry, Conte Candoli, Richie Kamuca, Mel Lewis and Frank Rosolino,to name a few, was a joy to hear. Within that band, was a most promising alto saxophone player of that time, Joe Maini. Many critics were comparing him to Bird, they thought he was truly a gifted musician and expected many great things to emerge from his playing. Joe had too many personal problems. He hung around with Lenny Bruce and did all the self destructing things that Lenny did. Strung out on drugs he had attempted suicide more than once. Unfortunately, he ended his life playing and losing at Russian Roulette. Joe had a phenomenal sense of humor. This would answer to why he was Lenny's best friend. When Joe worked with Terry's Big Band I had the good fortune to hear them perform several times at the Summit, usually on Monday nights. My God, could that band swing! Terry's frantic nervous energy somehow electrified that orchestra and the charge could be felt all over the room. One night, the weather in L.A. was bad and the Summit was practically empty, save for myself. If I could help it, I tried not to miss this band when they were working in the area. Since the place was practically empty, the band was really loose and having a good time. Well, that night, whenever Terry was soloing toward the close of a piece, Joe would direct the band from the reed section and give the signal to end. While doing this, Joe's back was to the sparse audience with his hands up in the air and the band awaiting the signal to end. Seeing Maini with his hands raised over his head they cracked up with laughter, unable to play a single note. Terry, bewildered turned to the band with a look of confusion on his face wondering what happened. I too had always wondered what it was that cracked up the band. It was much later in years while reading Lenny Bruce's biography that I learned what took place on that bandstand. Maini was a well endowed male. What he did when he had faced the band to give the signal to finish, was to put the head of his large member over the top of his pants exposing it to the hysterical orchestra, forcing them to lose all control and double up with laughter. Through the years it had always amazed me how someone, like Joe Maini could celebrate the joys of life and finally succumb to such a violent ending. I suppose that within all of us there is a dark brooding spirit we try to keep contained and hidden. For some, that spirit can break through and destroy without any signal or warning.
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Shelly Manne was one of the finest, swingingest, dynamic, intelligent drummers that I've ever heard. Not a flashy pyro dynamic soloist; his solos were geared more to the melodic line, like Max Roach, he would play closely to the way the piece was written. Shelly begun getting noticed while playing on Fifty Second street, during that famous period in American Music when all the great jazz clubs were located on a block in the Apple between Fifth and Sixth Avenue.
Shelly became better known after he joined the Stan Kenton Orchestra. Although he complained that "working for Stan was like chopping wood," it was Shelley's driving and steadiness that drove that band behind soloists such as Shorty Rogers and Art Pepper. There is a memorable piece written for Shelly and the Kenton orchestra simply titled: "Shelley Manne." It was written during Kenton's innovative period, I believe, by Bill Russo. This piece exemplifies Shelly's feelings toward the melody line, as the entire piece extends from a simple line introduced by Shelley on tympany at the offset of the composition.
During the Early Sixties, Shelly opened his own club in Hollywood California called "Shelly's Manne Hole." I was fortunate enough to live in the area at that time and was able to see him perform with what was one of the finest post bop groups to ever play in California. Shelly had, one of the more underrated trumpet players until today, Conte Condoli and Richie Kamuca on tenor sax, Chuck Berghofer on bass, and Russ Freeman on piano rounded out the group. Behind Shelly's solid foundation the group swung ferociously. On their best nights there weren't many other groups that could approach their drive. Shelley's club hosted other major jazz groups. I remember one particular night when John Coltrane's astounding quartet came through Los Angeles and had an engagement at Shelly's club. It was a Monday night and I sat in the audience surrounded by the elite of West Coast drumming. No less than Mel Lewis, Stan Levey, Larry Bunker, Shelly and others were there to witness a phenomenon, Elvin Jones. Elvin was into something different in those days to compliment Coltrane's extended approach. They all came away in amazement knowing that jazz would never be the same again.
Shelly, kept playing much the same way as he always had until he left us a few years ago. With maestro Andre Previn they put together a memorable album based on the music of "My Fair Lady," which sold over a million copies and actually reached the charts, rare for any jazz recording. My lasting memory of Shelly will always be with his own solid group in his own club playing some driving and swinging unpretentious jazz, straight ahead.
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The jazz corner of the world
Recently, I overheard the sounds of the singing quartet, Manhattan Transfer, coming from the stereo in my son's room. The group had added lyrics to Joe Zawinul's extraordinary instrumental "Birdland," conjuring some warm memories of the jazz club that had once been called "The Jazz Corner of the World."
Broadway and 52nd Street in the 1950s andEarly Sixties was a jazz oasis. On Saturday evenings crowds could steal glances through open doors at the Metropole Cafe, across from the Colony Record Shop of greats such as Roy Eldridge orGene Krupa playing on top of the bar. Wednesday night was Mambomania night at the Palladium Ballroom up the street with Tito Puente and Mongo Santamaria ticking and booming their impulsive and complex rhythms on well tuned skins, what was to become the pulse of today's Latin Jazz, to the bustling street below.
Below the level of the street near an all night cafe hung the canopy of a place called "Birdland." Descending the magic stairs beneath a sign that read "Through these portals, pass the most mortals," visitors were greeted by waves of modern jazz being created, breezing past the thick red carpets. The intricate sound of Dizzy Gillespie's trumpet, the bell of the horn wasn't turned up as yet, blended coolly with the feel of the air conditioning pumping into the club.
To the right of the entrance were the tables, to the left, the bar with the unique "Peanut Gallery," where one, on a limited budget, could sit to the side of the bandstand, without being hounded, and nurse a watered-down Scotch on the rocks for an entire night. An unspoken feeling of harmony united the gallery dwellers. Most of them were there to listen reverently to the fresh musical feelings and to escape the upstairs tedium of Bill Haley, Elvis Presley and the "Top Ten" of the day.
Ever since the advent of bebop, American jazz had been ever changing, influenced by the ides of Charlie Parker, Bud Powell, Charlie Mingus, Dizzy Gillespie and other giants of the music who helped create this new form. While, at the time, other jazz clubs in the city delivered the message more convincingly than Birdland. Birdland, because of its popularity, was able to reach out to a wider audience. Businessmen, tourists and musicians who played other types of music, were among the customers in attendance who came to listen. There would never be another jazz club that would at times feature three big attractions for the price of one. In Today's world, once a set is completed, you either pay another cover or you're on your way.
Musicians experimented with some of the newer forms of jazz during, Monday's "Jam Session." Stars of today came from some of those Monday night memorable sessions. I can remember seeing Freddie Hubbard, Chick Corea, Gary Burton and Joe Farrell, to name just a few perform at one time on another.
When John Coltrane broke from the Miles Davis group to form his now famous quartet, he played an engagement at Birdland. In those days, Birdland ran its sets on a strict schedule. The conductor "Master of Ceremonies," Pee Wee Marquette, who later became a doorman outside the Hawaii Kai Restaurant just up the street, became flustered when just one extended piece by Coltrane would run well past his allotted time.
On another memorable Saturday night into Sunday morning , Billy Eckstein and Sarah Vaughn made one of their impromptu visits sitting in with the Count Basie orchestra to the delight and thrill of all the patrons. Their duets have since become jazz classics.
Once, when Stan Kenton brought in twenty of the brightest young musicians from the West Coast to play an engagement, they were packed in on that tiny bandstand like rush hour riders on the I.R.T. The five man trumpet section, with Maynard Ferguson on top of the orchestra with his supersonic blasts, popped manhole covers up and down Broadway, whenever they did the famous theme of the band, "Artistry in Rhythm, Viva Prado or the extended piece written by Shorty Rogers called, Maynard Ferguson."
I also had the added fortune of hearing and seeing Bud Powell's incredible trio, featuring Powell on piano, Max Roach of drums and Charles Mingus on Bass. This was an incredible trio that was so innovatively tight and worked off each other to perfection. Bud Powell, even in his most troubled moments, was an incredible musician and composer. It's my contention that after Charlie Parker, it was Bud who illuminated the ideas and visions of this new music.
Of course, there was "Bird" himself, Charlie Parker, for whom the club was named. Even in his most painful times, he was brilliant, inventing the fibers of the music that was to follow him for a long time to come. Parker died in 1955, his drug addiction finally killing him and much great music, never to be unleashed, dying with him.
However, this is all in the past. Birdland lost its influence in the mid 1960s and went from a dance club to a vacant space. The owners of the Metropole Cafe have long closed its doors so passerbys won't be exposed to the sight of topless dancers who have replaced the long gone musicians. A gray, featureless, building stands on the site of what was once the Palladium Ballroom.
Electricity has become an important element of jazz and many of the younger musicians lean heavily on it. Technically speaking, today's young musicians are magnificent. Many colleges around the country now offer courses leading to degrees in jazz. Modern recording techniques have developed a sort of sterile, predictable perfection, and the media can give us whatever we want instantly. In some areas,a pseudo form calling itself cool jazz, sic, has taken on a TopTen format.
I am not advocating a step back in time, especially where jazz, or any other art form, is concerned. However, I would like to see preserved, a certain amount of purity and honesty. It would be nice if some of the essence and spontaneity remained to nurture the design of today's jazz music.
Birdland's "Lullaby" was not a sad song; it was a theme for another era. That era, as any other, had troubles of its own and Birdland was just a place to go to forget one's blues while the good music played under the surface of the humid city's streets.
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Costa. Like Clifford Brown, he left us at a very early age. Eddie was a master at
playing the piano in the minor key. To hear him was like listening to someone who is
scuba diving for deeper emotions way down at the bottom of the sea. Eddie never
stopped swinging, he would weave in and out of a passage opening up and searching
every possible avenue to explore.
A small skinny guy, very intense and hunched over the piano, somewhat like Bill
Evans, he was a joy to listen to. He had the ability to involve the listener and take him
down into the depths of exploration, piecing it together so it would all make sense for
us.
Eddie was also a master on the vibraphone. His style with the mallets was similar to
what he did on the piano. Unfortunately there isn't a great body of work that Eddie
left behind. The recordings that have been left to us are all gems. I would highly
recommend picking up anything that can be found on any collector's record shelves.
Eddie is one of those rare musicians whose work is timeless.
My brief musical encounter with Eddie was in a small club in Kew Gardens Queens,
in New York City. Back in the Fifties, Eddie played a few Sunday afternoon gigs there
with Phil Woods and Teddy Kotick. Off the stand, he seemed like a very shy person.
This may have been because of his aggressive playing which contrasted his
personality. Eddie would literally attack the lower notes on the piano, creating a
cumbersome texture that lumbered along and swung in its own special way.
To date, I personally have yet to hear anyone duplicating the idiom that Eddie
played in. He was a rare original that only comes around once in a great while. What
a sad pity that we could only have him for such a short period of time.
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When I was a kid and listening to the early sounds of jazz, Gene Krupa's orchestra was one of my favorite bands of the time. He had Roy Eldridge and Anita O'Day in the band and one of the hits that Gene had was Roy and Anita singing "Let Me Off Uptown." It was, and still is, a truly hip example of a rendering of jazz vocalizing. A young Gerry Mulligan wrote for the band and put out some great big band charts.
It was around that time, or a little before, something most unusual came out of the band. Again, it was in the form of a vocal team. There names were Dave Lambert and Buddy Stewart and what they did may have been a very early example of what was to become Vocalese. The tune was called "What's this." At first hearing it sounded as if there were lyrics, but after listening a little closer you'd realize that they were emulating instruments and doing a very progressive approach to scat singing.
Later in the latter part of the Fifties a vocal trio came along and completely took everyone by surprise with their unique and unorthodox style. They were: "Lambert, Hendricks and Ross, namely , Dave Lambert, Jon Hendricks and Annie Ross. What they did was astounding. They took, what were famous solos, such as Miles Davis' recording of "Four." and put lyrics to the instrumental solo parts. They did ensemble work on some of Count Basie's big band works, again putting words for some of the lines put out by the sections of the band. This bit of creativity became known as Vocalese. One memorable work was done by Annie Ross, since working in films and the English stage, and her rendition of Saxophonist Wardell Gray's composition, "Twisted." With Freudian tinged lyrics and a wry sense of humor, Ms. Ross displayed what can happen to a solo line when some creative words embellish each improvised note. When Dave Lambert had an untimely death after being struck by a car, the group broke up. Annie went to England and Jon wrote and began working solo.
Today Jon is working with a large twelve piece unit, four of which are vocal artists like himself. In fact two of the members are part of Jon's family, Aria and Judith Hendricks. Jon just turned Seventy four and still has the drive and youthful inspiration for what he does. Much of his invention and inspiration comes from the work of Eddie Jefferson. Eddie, who did the famous lyrics to James Moody's solo of "I'm in the Mood for Love" which resulted in "Moody's Mood For Love," was the leader and Godfather of Vocalese. His "Moody's Mood for Love" has since become a jazz classic.
If you are new to Jon's music I would recommend his album: Jon Hendricks and Friends. He is joined by some of the greats in vocal jazz. Collaborating with Al Jarreau, George Benson,The Manhattan Transfer and the incredible Bobby McFerrin, they team up on Miles' "Freddie Freeloader" which is an example of straight Vocalese done by a group of some of the purist practitioners in the business. They're so truly dedicated to the original solo line while the lyrical line tells a story that moves the piece along with logic and whimsy.
Whether you are an avid jazz fan or new and inquisitive to this American Art Form, the one thing that you'll experience from Jon Hendricks' music is a good and fun feeling. Watching him perform is a treat. No matter who he teams with they'll both come away having a good time. I can remember seeing Jon perform and trade fours with Mel Torme on television some time back leaving me with the feeling that I would have liked to get in a couple of licks myself. The bottom line is that it's fun; the artists are having fun and it spills off intuitively to the audience as the famous solos take on a new form with words replacing solo lines of the great artists that originally created them standing on their feet.