Only very, very loosely. As in, it's about an alcoholic white trumpet player. But the era's wrong, the music's wrong. It has Doris Day singing songs in it. (She's the love interest).
That said, I like it. Enough to own it on DVD. And it has Lauren Bacall, which is always a recommendation!
I'm looking forward to seeing Bolden!. And catching Louis, which I wasn't aware of.
Of the others, some are good films. But few actually catch the era well. New Orleans is a dreadful film. But the music's great!
i was fortunate enough to pick up a vinyl copy of The Complete Wolverines (Fountain Records FJ-114) recently for a couple of quid. the extensive sleeve notes begin with this statement:
"Bix apart, they weren't really a very good band. If Jimmy Hartwell's clarinet impersonations of Rapollo were a bit pallid, George Johnson's technical lapses on tenor were downright embarassing. They could only play in three or four keys. The rhythm tended to be lumpy, especially when Min Leibrook got carried away. Vic Moore, crouched behind the painted pines on the big bass drum, was an often perillously wobbly timekeeper. But inspiration is its own contagion, and the Wolverines had contagion aplenty in Leon Bix Beiderbecke."
personally, i think that's a very harsh assessment of a record that, to my ear, has a beautiful energy and enthusiasm, with Bix blowing up a veritable storm in amongst some very enjoyable jazz music.
The Wolverines were certainly good enough to inspire others at the time. In Hear Me Talking To Ya (which is a book I think someone else already mentioned), Jimmy McPartland says: "[...]when [Bix] came up on those Wolverines records, why, me and the rest of the gang - we just wore those records out. We copied off the little arrangements, and what was going on in the ensembles. One thing was definite that we would never do - copy any solo exactly". (p144, Shapiro & Hentoff, eds).
in preparation for the next installment, i've put chicago vol 2 on, which is full of white jazzers i've never heard of - charles pierce, frank teschemacher, max kaminsky. but then some that i have - jimmy mcpartland & gene krupa. is this who's up next?
in preparation for the next installment, i've put chicago vol 2 on, which is full of white jazzers i've never heard of - charles pierce, frank teschemacher, max kaminsky. but then some that i have - jimmy mcpartland & gene krupa. is this who's up next?
Lang was born in 1902, a second generation Italian, whose father was a luthier. There being a lot of prejudice about Italian immigrants at the time, he changed his name from Salvatore Massaro to Eddie Lang. (Sacco and Vanzetti were executed for murder in 1927, not because the evidence was good, but because they were Italians, immigrants, anarchists, and poor).
The rise of the guitar
In the New Orleans style, many guitarists doubled on banjo. Johnny St Cyr, whom we’ve heard with Louis and Jelly Roll, was one such player. But once in Chicago, guitar started to become the favoured instrument, and banjo went into decline. Thus many of the Chicago bands we’ll hear have guitar rather than banjo, and from now on guitar will become an important part of a jazz rhythm section.
Lead instrument
But as well as a rhythm instrument, Lang shows guitar can be a lead instrument. His fluid, inventive style, and mastery of the fret-board, paves the way for players like Charlie Christian and Django Reinhart. With recording technology improving, he is able to play single string solos and be picked up by the microphones.
Love of blues
Lang brings a European folk dimension to jazz, especially in his partnership with Joe Venuti, but he also has a deep love of blues. He was in huge demand as a sideman by both black and white groups, covering the range from big band jazz to accompanying blues singers.
Here he is with Louis Armstrong in 1929. He begins the piece, and then his solo is heard from about 0:58. Listen to his bluesy bent notes:
And here he is with Bix in 1927:
Listen to his bluesy intro, him trading phrases with Bix, and his clean, lyrical counter-melodies underpinning Tram’s sax, and the outro phrases with Bix.
Debt to New Orleans string bands
A lot of where Eddie was coming from can be heard in the early New Orleans string bands, and he fitted seamlessly with Lonnie Johnson’s band on a number of occasions, as well as recording a number of duets with Johnson, often destined for record machines at juke joints. The record company assumed the world wasn’t ready for a mixed race duo, so he often went under the pseudonym Blind Willie Dunn. (He was, after all, no stranger to changing his name to avoid prejudice).
Here’s Eddie with legendary New Orleans guitarist, Lonnie Johnson in 1929.
Lonnie Johnson had fond memories of his friend, recalling: “He was the nicest man I ever worked with. Eddie and I got together many a time in the old Okeh record studios in New York, and we even made many sides together with just two guitars. I valued those records more than anything in my life. [...] Eddie was a fine man. He never argued. He didn’t tell me what to do. He would ask me. [...] I’ve never seen a cat like him since. He could play guitar better than anyone I know. And I’ve seen plenty in my day”. (Hear Me Talkin’ To Ya, pp271/272).
He is best known, though, for his partnership with violin player, Joe Venuti, in Joe’s Blue Four, and as a duo.
His solo comes in at about 2:10.
Brief clip of Eddie and Joe playing together:
Lang died as a result of a botched tonsillectomy in 1933, aged only 30. He spoke with a croak, and Bing Crosby had recommended the operation to him in the hope that Lang could get into movies.
Eddie on CD:
You can hear Eddie on countless CDs, with Bix, with Hoagy Carmichael, in Paul Whiteman’s band, backing Bing Crosby, and Bessie Smith, and with Louis Armstrong, as well as with Lonnie Johnson. But the compilation that Morton and Cook recommend is The Quintessential Eddie Lang 1925 – 1932 on the Timeless Historical imprint of Timeless Records.
But also consider A Handful of Riffs, on the Asv Living Era label:
I believe I mentioned them in passing way back up the thread.
me said:
Genre fluidity However, rather than being separate and fenced off, they seemed to recombine and re-pollinate each other. Classic jazz as we understand it is primarily played by a brass and woodwind front line, and country blues by string ensembles. But in the very early days this seems to have been fluid: there are very early recordings of string ensembles playing music that can be described as proto- jazz. Freddie Keppard, for example, played violin and mandolin before switching to cornet.
Our next stop is another Eddie, and another guitarist. Condon, born in 1905, started out on banjo, but as the 20s progressed moved to guitar. It’s sometimes said that he was an unexceptional musician, but that’s rather unfair. He was a skilled accompanist, and since that was the role he sought to excel in, rather than as a soloist, then he achieved his ambitions. But he was more than that; he was also a charismatic theorist of jazz. He had a strong sense of what authentic jazz should be about, and because he had the organisational skill, the way with words, and the magnetic personality, for many in Chicago, and later New York, his version of authenticity became writ.
Authenticity
For Condon real jazz was improvised, it was played by small groups, and it sounded a lot like his idols, Louis Armstrong and Bix Beiderbecke. Although he was a devotee of the ODJB and King Oliver, the type of jazz he is associated with is less the ensemble polyphony of New Orleans, and more the new style that supported soloists.
Inaccuracies
The next inaccuracy that history has inflicted on Condon is that he was the leader of a school of white musicians. It’s unfair, because Condon most certainly would not have seen himself as such. He organised gigs, recording sessions and informal jams for musicians. To him, the race of the musician was not the issue, but whether they could play. This got him in a lot of trouble. Even in the North, mixed race bands were a sensitive issue at the time. A lot of others backed down for a quiet life. But not Condon. He cared about jazz, and jazz was made by both black and white musicians, and he wasn’t going to have prejudice trump that. Eventually, exasperated with the attitude of club owners, he opened his own.
The third inaccuracy that history has in store for Condon (although partly his fault for calling his band the Chicagoans), is to forever associate his name with Chicago. While he first found fame in that city, he was actually from a small town in Indiana.
Chicago School
However, we will forever associate his name with the Chicago school of white musicians because it was he who would best articulate their ethic. He is their guru-in-chief.
Aphorisms
His way with words has meant his lines are often repeated with relish. For example, his review of one musician he played with (Ted Lewis): “He made the clarinet talk, and it usually said ‘please put me back in my case’”. He was also a fun loving drinker and party animal, and did much to create the image of the jazz musician as a hip, unconventional bohemian.
He will come up again later in our thread, when musicians reacting against swing are looking for a figure head and rallying point. But for now, let’s hear some of his music:
Here is his band, McKenzie and Condon’s Chicagoans, on a tune he co-wrote:
You can hear his banjo with its descending chord sequence just ahead of the beat, propelling the tune forward.
The personnel is: Eddie Condon – banjo, Bud Freeman – tenor saxophone, Gene Krupa – drums, Jim Lanigan – bass, Jimmy McPartland – cornet, Frank Teschemacher – clarinet, Joe Sullivan – piano, and possibly Mezz Mezzrow on cymbals.
And here are his Footwarmers, with Jack Teagarden on trombone and vocals:
Here’s Eddie with Louis Armstrong in 1929, pretty far down the mix as it happens, but it’s a great track!
His work with Fats Waller is better known, but that’s in the 30s, so I’m not going to include it here.
But, actually, what is important about the man is better told in his own words, in his book about jazz in the 20s and 30s: We Called It Music.
Eddie Condon on CD:
There’s a 4 CD set of Eddie’s recording career from JSP. Since he played with so many greats including Artie Shaw, Benny Goodman, Louis Armstrong, and Billie Holiday, it’s quite a collection!
i love how he is using a cello with 2 strings! there is a lot if improv;d imnstruments in early NO jazz - cigar box banjo/guitar, kazoo etc. I was going thru Hear Me Talkin' To Ya and so many key figures died in obscurity or ill health - saddest one Bunk Johnson writing in 1939 that all he needs 'is a real good set of teeth ... Teeth and a trumpet and old Bunk can really go.' also many damaged by booze (Bix etc). we shd remember that this was not a bottle of bells and a couple of guinness but real bathtub gin that was toxic and highly damaging moonshine.
But he was more than that; he was also a charismatic theorist of jazz. He had a strong sense of what authentic jazz should be about, and because he had the organisational skill, the way with words, and the magnetic personality, for many in Chicago, and later New York, his version of authenticity became writ.
Authenticity
For Condon real jazz was improvised, it was played by small groups, and it sounded a lot like his idols, Louis Armstrong and Bix Beiderbecke. Although he was a devotee of the ODJB and King Oliver, the type of jazz he is associated with is less the ensemble polyphony of New Orleans, and more the new style that supported soloists.
The idea of jazz theory at this time interests me... if i understand it right pretty much all popular uptempo music was called jazz at this point, and its only with hindsight as jazz runs its own course separate from other popular music that we can look back on the 20s and say "this tune is jazzy", and "this one isn't really"... How aware of the differences were people at the time?
Nowadays you can go to university and learn about the definitive jazz elements (blue notes, a looseness of rhythm, non-regular emphasis, certain ways of soloing, improvisation and structure, etc.), but I get the feeling that was far from the case in the 20s.
To what extent did people theorise jazz at this point? Were there already debates about what was really jazz or not, or was it a case more of people abstractly finding one band more swinging than another? Also im curious what kind of slang was being used in the 20s to describe a firing band? Anyone any idea?
also been compiling a list of those who suffered mental illness (for a separate 'project'): billie holiday, buddy bolden, alfred wilson, cass simpson, joe suttler, tony ladnier, and apparently fletcher henderson and bix - all afflicted with various depression/withdrawal/general craziness. so sad.
also been compiling a list of those who suffered mental illness (for a separate 'project'): billie holiday, buddy bolden, alfred wilson, cass simpson, joe suttler, tony ladnier, and apparently fletcher henderson and bix - all afflicted with various depression/withdrawal/general craziness. so sad.
the relationship between mental illness>altered states>and genius in art is a complex one - not to play down the suffering, but you do hear of people afflicted who say they wouldn't choose being 'healthy' over it, for fear of losing that special quality that makes them stand out from the rest as artists. To qualify that I think it depends a lot on what the condition is though - for example a sort of manageable bi-polar condition is very different from full schizophrenia...
The idea of jazz theory at this time interests me... if i understand it right pretty much all popular uptempo music was called jazz at this point, and its only with hindsight as jazz runs its own course separate from other popular music that we can look back on the 20s and say "this tune is jazzy", and "this one isn't really"... How aware of the differences were people at the time?
Nowadays you can go to university and learn about the definitive jazz elements (blue notes, a looseness of rhythm, non-regular emphasis, certain ways of soloing, improvisation and structure, etc.), but I get the feeling that was far from the case in the 20s.
To what extent did people theorise jazz at this point? Were there already debates about what was really jazz or not, or was it a case more of people abstractly finding one band more swinging than another? Also im curious what kind of slang was being used in the 20s to describe a firing band? Anyone any idea?
It wasn't academic theorising. More about what's "authentic" jazz and what isn't. About what is commercial stuff, and what is proper jazz. What's sweet and what's hot. And above all, what swings. Although, until the late 20s a lot of white musicians had a great deal of trouble with "swing". Louis Armstrong is the gold standard on that one. Musicians are consciously holding him up as the one to emulate for "swing".
As to playing solos, Louis famously gave the advice: "The first chorus I play the melody. The second chorus I plays the melody round the melody, and the third chorus I routines".
To "routine" seems to be a verb of his own making, meaning to mix things up a bit!
They'd be "hot", "gone", and "jumping". And the rhythm section would be "in the pocket". And people who could appreciate the difference would be "hep" (not hip).
A lot of stuff we still say comes from then. And even more of it was invented by Lester Young during the following decade. (He invented "cool", for example).
i love how he is using a cello with 2 strings! there is a lot if improv;d imnstruments in early NO jazz - cigar box banjo/guitar, kazoo etc. I was going thru Hear Me Talkin' To Ya and so many key figures died in obscurity or ill health - saddest one Bunk Johnson writing in 1939 that all he needs 'is a real good set of teeth ... Teeth and a trumpet and old Bunk can really go.' also many damaged by booze (Bix etc). we shd remember that this was not a bottle of bells and a couple of guinness but real bathtub gin that was toxic and highly damaging moonshine.
When you're reading jazz histories, it's a litany of people who died young. And not all of them through booze or drugs. For many, it was a result of the grinding poverty of their youth. For others, it was because hospitals just didn't give proper care and attention if you were black.
yeah the relationship between creativity and mental illness is a dodgy one - the tears of a clown being the worst. and danny i hear ya! bunk lost his teeth. couldnt afford false ones. great pity.
i also think a separate thread for jazz slang may be in order. if we look at song titles for examples, interviews, slim gaillard and the 'voot' stuff, lenny bruce and lord buckley using black slang as well as drug/street argot etc. hot and cool sum it all up as far im concerned.
i am also curious of the answer to this question, plus, a recommendation of the best jazz slang websites would be good. I found a few but would ideally like a dictionary, if there is one.
Muggsy Spanier, born in 1906, was a native of Chicago’s working class South Side. A cornet player, he first heard King Oliver’s Creole Jazz Band play in the early 20s in Chicago, at the Lincoln Gardens club, and began to sit in with them whenever he was allowed.
He remembered: “You can imagine the thrill it was the first time they let me sit in with them and play. I even remember the first tune – it was Bugle Blues, an original Joe Oliver tune”.
Speak Easies
With fellow South Sider, drummer George Wettling, Muggsy began to jam with musicians in the Black district of Chicago, at speak-easies patronized by musicians, and in the homes of black musicians such as Johnny Dodds. Even in Chicago, in the supposedly less racist North, the authorities forbade black and white musicians to play together, but they’d get around the rules by not being paid.
In the period of 1926 to 1928, they would jam at Chigaco clubs such as The Cellar and the 3 Deuces, where Eddie Condon often played. Soon they were forming bands, in various configurations and reconfigurations, with Condon and the others.
Spanier, top right
Jamming at the Midway and the Sunset
Muggsy and Wettling’s regular gig from early 1926 was Midway Gardens Ballroom, on Cottage Grove, but – again ignoring the Jim Crow rules – when they finished, in the early hours of the morning, they’d dash across to the Sunset Cafe, where Louis Armstrong’s regular spot was at the time (with his Sunset Stompers), in order to take over from Louis during his breaks. Sometimes they’d sit in with Louis’ band to let some of his musicians take a rest. Muggsy would play second cornet to Louis, just as Louis once had with Oliver. (Earl Hines was the pianist with the Sunset Stompers, and in the 50s Muggsy and Hines would co-lead bands together). Armstrong would occasionally guest at the Midway in return. Muggsy would try to steal Louis’ thunder by playing Armstrong’s best numbers before he got on stage. Armstrong was once heard to grin and say, “I do believe Muggsy is trying to cut me!” (Cutting contest), something nobody, least of all Muggsy, would have thought a serious possibility.
Spanier said of Armstrong “How can you help loving a guy that makes the world smile and a happy place like Louis does? If he couldn’t blow or sing a note, he’d still be worth his weight in laughs”.
Rhythmic drive
Muggsy’s style was very like the black players he idolised, especially Joe Oliver, from whom he had learned at first hand. He had a warm tone, and stuck to the mid range of the instrument. Never a flash player, Muggsy created his sound with a forceful, rhythmic drive he derived from Oliver. Humphrey Littleton said “He wasn’t the greatest technician. Some of the solos play around with just four or five notes, but he gets something across every time. It’s almost miraculous how he does that, like Picasso creating a recognisable likeness with just two strokes of his brush”. (Morton & Cook, p74).
When Muggsy later played in big bands, he told one band leader (Ted Lewis) who asked him to hit high notes, “Aw, get a piccolo!”
Muggsy first recorded with the Bucktown Five in 1925, and the Stomp Six in 1926, before joining McKenzie and Condon’s Boys in the late 1920s.
Here’s Muggsy with the Chicago Rhythm Kings in 1928 (including Mezz Mezzrow on tenor sax, Gene Krupa on drums, Frank Teschemacher on clarinet, and Eddie Condon on guitar):
Here’s Muggsy’s strong rhythmic playing kicking off There’ll Be Some Changes Made, by the Chicago Rhythm Kings:
(The vocal on the above is from Eddie Condon).
The aforementioned Stomp Six in 1926. (The sound on this one is very thin):
The CRKs again, with Red MacKenzie on vocals this time:
Muggsy on CD:
The Penguin Jazz Guide doesn’t recommend any Spanier tracks from the 20s, only the Classics collection Muggsy Spanier 1939-42.
In all fairness, the 30s and 40s is when his best recordings were made, especially with his Ragtime Band, and the Big Four with Sidney Bechet. But we’re still in the 20s, and to get those sides you might want to consider the 2 CD Essential Collection on the Avid Records label:
This sure beats reading the paper every morning - amazing stuff Danny - hope its not getting too tiring. And glad we're still sticking in the 20s - when you did the post about Louis Armstrong I thought we were moving on to the 30s...I didnt realise how thorough you were going to be!
This sure beats reading the paper every morning - amazing stuff Danny - hope its not getting too tiring. And glad we're still sticking in the 20s - when you did the post about Louis Armstrong I thought we were moving on to the 30s...I didnt realise how thorough you were going to be!
I think Louis had to come before these guys in the thread because they all looked to him for a lead. Not just how to play, but how to dress, how to talk, and even how to walk!
the clothes were important. many of the NO lot were poor (and started playing young!) so wearing 'jazzy' suits showed that you were coming up and had some dough. description of louis - ''He wore a box back coat, straw hat and tan shoes." they would have adopted similar clothes in the way pimps did - jazzy clothes indicated they weren't working stiffs (diamonds on their shoes reckons 1 jazzer) hence musicians looking like 'musicians.' also an interesting quote on class (not race) from johnny st cyr: 'a jazz musician have to be a working class of man, out in the open, healthy and strong.' (shapiro & hentoff, 1962, 33).
the clothes were important. many of the NO lot were poor (and started playing young!) so wearing 'jazzy' suits showed that you were coming up and had some dough. description of louis - ''He wore a box back coat, straw hat and tan shoes." they would have adopted similar clothes in the way pimps did - jazzy clothes indicated they weren't working stiffs (diamonds on their shoes reckons 1 jazzer) hence musicians looking like 'musicians.' also an interesting quote on class (not race) from johnny st cyr: 'a jazz musician have to be a working class of man, out in the open, healthy and strong.' (shapiro & hentoff, 1962, 33).
When I die I want you to dress me in straight lace shoes,
Boxback coat and a Stetson hat,
Put a twenty dollar gold piece on my watch chain,
So the boys’ll know that I died standin' pat.
This site uses cookies to help personalise content, tailor your experience and to keep you logged in if you register.
By continuing to use this site, you are consenting to our use of cookies.
But the music's great!
)
