In 1985, a Swedish LP compiled
by American researcher Doug Seroff, The Human Orchestra,
gave many of us our first opportunity to hear pre-World War II
American vocal groups other than the Mills Brothers and the Ink
Spots. (This LP was expanded to two CDs—from 16 songs to 50—and
reissued by Jasmine in 2010. It is an essential item for vocal
group fans.) The title refers to a style popularized by the Mills
Brothers, but common to many other vocal groups, in which group
members imitated the sounds of musical instruments, such as the
trumpet and the bass. The Mills Brothers' imitations were so uncanny
that their record labels read “Four Boys and a Guitar,” so the
audience would know they were listening to the human voice rather
than musical instruments. (Of course, the use of the word “boys”
to refer to adult men was an objectionable racial slur.) Here they
are doing “Tiger Rag” from 1931.
As
Friedman and Gribin point out, imitation
was one of two ways in which vocal groups incorporated the sound of a
band into their songs. The other more common approach was instrument
replacement, in which
group members provided background support for the lead vocalist, but
without trying to sound like specific instruments. These backgrounds
often took the form of nonsense syllables, and one interpretation of
the term “doo-wop” is that it refers to these background sounds.
(There is another, less polite interpretation of “doo-wop” that I
won't go into now.)
To
illustrate, here's one of my favorite rhythm and blues vocal group
sides from 1956, “Up on the Mountain” by the Magnificents. While
it is often said to be a combination of various street sounds that
were popular in Chicago at the time, it sounds very much like a vocal
group version of a big band arrangement. It begins with two
different riffs prior to the start of the main melody. The melody is
in the traditional AABA song format, but it has an unusual structure.
The A section is 32 bars (8 lines) long rather than the typical 16
bars. The B section, or bridge, is only 12 bars (3 lines) long.
Based on its lyrics, it could be a blues—the second line repeats
the first—but it lacks a blues chord structure. Finally, the song
ends with the group imitating a big band instrumental fadeout.
You
probably noticed that “Tiger Rag” also included some scat
singing. Scat singing, popular
during the bebop era, is essentially improvising using the human
voice. In effect, the singer is taking a solo, just like the other
members of the band. The greatest of all scat singers was Ella
Fitzgerald; here she is doing “How High the Moon?”
A
related jazz vocal style, sometimes confused with scat singing, is
vocalese, in which the
composer writes words to a famous solo previously recorded by a jazz
musician. To the best of my knowledge, this
genre was originated by the Delta Rhythm Boys with their version of Duke Ellington's “Take the A Train.” (Check it out.) Vocalese was popularized by
Lambert, Hendricks and Ross in the early '60s. Manhattan Tranfer is
a contemporary vocalese group. Here are Lambert, Hendricks and Ross
doing “Cloudburst,” in which Jon Hendricks sings words to a tenor
sax solo previously recorded by Sam “The Man” Taylor.
Here's the John
Coltrane Quartet—Coltrane, soprano sax; McCoy Tyner, piano; Jimmy
Garrison, bass; and Elvin Jones, drums—playing “Afro-Blue” on
Ralph J. Gleason's TV show, Jazz Casual. I don't have the
date, but they recorded the song in 1964.
Vocal group fans
know that, with the exception of a few popular groups such as the
Mills Brothers and the Ink Spots, there is very little information
available about pre-World War II singing groups. Douglas Friedman, a retired lawyer, and Anthony Gribin, a practicing psychologist, both
now working as music researchers, set out to fill this gap. Mr.
Gribin previously co-authored The Complete Book of Doo-Wop,
the most comprehensive treatment of post-war rhythm and blues vocal
groups.
The book is divided
into four parts.
The
first 94 pages are a narrative history of pre-1950 vocal groups,
divided into four chapters: pre-1890, 1890-1920, the '20s and '30s,
and the '40s. Each chapter begins with a discussion of the
technologies which shaped the performance of vocal groups during the
period. This is followed by histories of the major groups, with
white and black groups discussed separately—an approach which
encourages the myth of greater stylistic differences between them
than actually existed. (Who but Billboard's
reporters would have known to classify the Four Tunes as
“race” music?) The text ends with discussion of two late '40s
groups, the Orioles and the Ravens, who paved the way for the golden
age of vocal groups in the '50s. Gospel
and country groups are mentioned only briefly.
The
next 183 pages are a groupography—an
alphabetical listing of the known personnel and histories of over a
thousand groups. Entries vary in length from a short phrase to
about half a page. References are given to CDs—primarily the
Document Records vocal group series—that include selections by the
group.
This
is followed by 235 pages of discographies
of those groups known to have recorded. Most discographies list
songs chronologically either by session or by order of release.
Friedman and Gribin list the songs alphabetically. This is helpful
when trying to locate a song, but I prefer to follow how a group's
repetoire changes over time.
Finally, there
are four appendixes: technology (again), sheet music, post cards,
and various lists of their favorite artists and songs.
To briefly
summarize, early vocal groups sang in a very formal and structured
way. Group members sang multi-part harmony in unison, almost like a
small choir. Over time, the arrangements become looser and more variable. Lead singers began to sing the melody, while the other
group members sang background riffs, often using a call-and-response
pattern. New styles were introduced such as the walking bass line,
or a falsetto high tenor soaring above the rest of the group. All these
innovations were made possible by microphones and recording technologies that allowed a clearer separation between each member's contribution to the group.
There is a lot of
fascinating information in this book. Much of the fun comes from
looking at the photographs. Both the first and last sections are
heavily illustrated, with pictures of groups and sheet music covers
accounting for most of them. But one of the dominant messages of the
book is how little is actually known about early American vocal
groups. No personnel lists or photographs exist for the overwhelming
majority of groups. Given our current state of information overload
about entertainers, it is easy to forget how little communication
about popular music was available 100 years ago. What we know about most of
the groups comes from names and pictures on the covers of sheet
music. Groups also advertised themselves by distributing postcards—a
practice of which I had been only dimly aware.
A depressing side
message is the popularity of minstrel shows during this period. Many
of these songs were racist—so-called “coon” songs such as
“You'se Just a Little Nigger, Still You'se Mine, All Mine” and
“All Coons Look Alike to Me,” both ironically written by black
composers. After about 1910, minstrel shows were gradually replaced
by vaudeville, but they still existed in this country as late as the
'50s.
This is a reference
book that belongs in the music section of any library. It's also an
interesting enough read to deserve a place in the personal
bookshelves of vocal group fans like me.
Some thoughts after
watching Bo Diddley: The Bo Diddley beat is basically a
five-note syncopated rhythm (to which Bo added some grace notes)
known as the clavé rhythm. Most sources trace it to the music of
sub-Saharan Africa. It is often used in Latin music. For example,
the bossa nova is sometimes called the Brazilian clavé. This beat
appeared in several rhythm and blues songs prior to the recording of
“Bo Diddley” in 1955. The most likely place for Bo to have heard
it was “Hambone” by the Red Saunders Orchestra featuring the
Hambone Kids, which received some airplay in 1952, although it did
not make the charts. You can hear the similarities.
“Hambone”
refers to a style of street dancing while slapping your thighs (and
other body parts) that frequently included the clavé rhythm. One of
the three Hambone Kids was 11-year-old Delecta Clark, who had several
R&B hits under the name Dee Clark; for example, “Hey, Little
Girl” (1959), which also used the Bo Diddley beat, and “Raindrops”
(1961).
Probably the biggest hit after "Bo Diddley" to use the Bo Diddley beat was "Willie and the Hand Jive" by Johnny Otis (1958). Bo spoke bitterly of this song as if it were plagiarism, but listening to "Hambone"puts that charge in a different light.
Rockabilly fans
will remember “Not Fade Away” by Buddy Holly and the Crickets,
which was a hit for the Rolling Stones in the U. K.
Here's Bo Diddley singing and playing "Hey, Bo Diddley" and "Bo Diddley" on American TV. The man who posted it identifies the date (1965) but not the program. The good news is that it's not a lip sync.
Blues singer and guitarist “T-Model”
Ford passed away at his home in Greenville, Mississippi on July 16.
He died of respiratory failure induced by a stroke that he suffered
in 2012. His age is uncertain; estimates vary between 89 and 93. He
was a representative of the North Mississippi hill country style of blues—juke joint music that is characterized by a steady, driving
rhythm (sometimes called a drone style), infrequent chord changes,
and irregular song structures. The style was originated by
Mississippi Fred McDowell and more recently popularized by R. L.
Burnside and Junior Kimbrough.
James Lewis Carter Ford was born on
June 24 sometime in the early '20s in Forest, Mississippi. As a
child, he was severely beaten by his father and lost a testicle.
This handicap did not slow him down, however, as he reportedly had
six wives and 26 children. His obituaries are filled with colorful tales about his violent, sexual and alcoholic exploits. These should
be treated with some skepticism, since blues men have been known to
exaggerate when reporters are about. However, it is generally
acknowledged that he spent two years of a ten-year sentence on a
chain gang for killing a man, he says in self-defense. His nickname
came from his occupation as a truck driver at a logging camp.
Mr. Ford first picked up a guitar at
age 58 and was largely self-taught. He began playing in Mississippi
juke joints in the '80s, along with his drummer Tommy Lee Miles, aka,
Spam. His first CD, Pee Wee Get My Gun, was released in 1997
on Fat Possum, a label that specialized in hill country blues.
Here's a representative cut, “I'm Insane,” on one of his favorite topics, “kicking ass.” (Stella is his sixth wife.)
He released eight CDs in all—four
more on Fat Possum, one on Mudpuppy, and two on Alive Naturalsound,
the last coming in 2011. He usually toured as part of a package
along with other Fat Possum artists. He was fitted with a pacemaker
in 2008, and had a minor stroke in 2010, but continued to perform.
His second stroke, in 2012, was debilitating.
Here is an interview, complete with background noise, that T-Model Ford did
for the British newspaper, The Guardian, about five years ago.
The underrated Savannah Churchill is one of my favorite female vocalists. Here she is in a scene from the 1948 film Miracle in Harlem singing her #1 R&B hit, "I Want to Be Loved," accompanied by the Lynn Proctor Trio.
Ms. Churchill released about 20-25 records between 1942 and 1956, hitting the charts four times. She was usually backed by vocal groups, such as the Four Tunes. She also appeared in three "race movies"--low budget films with all-black casts. She sang in two of them, but the third was a dramatic role. She was the leading lady in 1949's Souls of Sin.
In 1956, she was the victim of a freak accident which effectively ended her career. While she was singing in a New York night club, a drunk fell out of the balcony and landed on her, breaking her pelvis. She spent most of the rest of her life in a wheelchair. She made an unsuccessful comeback attempt in 1961. She died of complications from pneumonia in 1974 at the age of 54.
Clarence Burke, Jr., lead
vocalist for Chicago's '60s soul group the Five Stairsteps died on May 26. He turned 64 the day before his death. The Stairsteps were
a family group consisting of four (later five) brothers and a sister.
They had 17 songs on the R&B charts, but only one of them,
“O-o-h Child” cracked the top 10. Here's my favorite of their
hits.
The first tenor of the Bronx group, the
Regents, Sal Cuomo, died on
June 10. (Guy Villari was the lead singer.) Cuomo had been a recluse and in poor health for many years. The Regents had a top 10
hit in 1961 with “Barbara Ann,” followed by a lesser hit,
“Runaround.” “Barbara Ann” was covered by the Beach Boys in
1965. A parody of this song, “Bomb Iran,” was recorded during
the Iranian hostage crisis in 1980 by Vince Vance and the Valiants.
The song returned to prominence when John McCain sang it during the
2008 presidential campaign, when it was situationally inappropriate, helping Barack Obama to win the election.
Cornelius “Nini” Harp,
lead singer of the Marcels, died in Homestead, PA on June 5. The
Marcels were a bi-racial Pittsburgh group who had a #1
R&B hit, “Blue Moon,” in 1961. It, and a followup,
“Heartaches,” are best remembered for the power bass part by
Fred Johnson. Harp's lead singing
can be better appreciated on this ballad, “Goodbye to Love.”
The Marcels are members of the Vocal Group Hall of Fame. In spite of the group's popularity in Pittsburgh, no obituary of Harp appeared in the Pittsburgh Post-Gazette. Here are the original members reunited for one of T. J. Lubinsky's PBS specials.
The
bass singer of the Youngstown, Ohio group, the Edsels, Marshall
Sewell, died of esophageal cancer on June 5 at the age of 75. The group originally recorded
“Rama Lama Ding Dong” in 1958, but it went nowhere. Due to a
printing error, the label read “Lama Rama Ding Dong,” making this
disc a collector's item. It was reissued in 1961 and became a best
seller, but their only hit. Sewell was a Cleveland policeman for
many years.
Jimmy Steward,
the last member of the late '40s-early '50s supergroup, the Ravens, died
May 18 in Jacksonville, FL at age 86. He was a substitute member
during the Ravens' declining years, replacing Leonard Puzey as second
tenor from 1951-1953 while Puzey was in the service. He rejoined
them in 1954 and stayed until they broke up in 1956. Although he was
usually in the background, on this song, “Green Eyes,” he sings
second lead to bass man Jimmy Ricks.
Finally,
Moses “King Moe” Uzzell,
of the Corsairs died on May 11 in Newark, NJ. He was 80. The
Corsairs, from LaGrange, NC, consisted of three brothers, Jay “Bird”
Uzzell, the lead singer, James and Moses, and their cousin, George
Wooten. Their 1962 hit, “Smoky Places,” had a similar sound to
the early '60s Drifters. Its lyrics were slightly more adult than
the typical pop song of that era. Their followup, “I'll Take You Home,” was
covered by the Drifters.
I'm
grateful to the editors of Blues
and Rhythm, a great magazine from England, for keeping me up to date on R&B
deaths that typically don't make the newspapers in this country.
R&B singer and boogie-woogie
pianist Little Willie Littlefield, best known for having recorded the
original version of “Kansas City,” died of cancer on June 23 at
the age of 81 at his home in Voorthuizen, the Netherlands.
Willie Littlefield was born in El
Campo, Texas on September 16, 1931, and grew up in Houston. He began
to play the guitar at age 6 and the piano shortly afterwards. As a
teenager, he and tenor saxophonist Don Wilkerson formed a band that burned up Houston's Dowling Street. Willie became a teenaged sensation. The band came to the attention of dic jockey Eddie Henry, and Littlefield cut his
first record, “Little Willie's Boogie” for Eddie's Records at the
age of 16.
After a visit to Houston by Jules Bihari, he
moved up to Modern Records in Los Angeles in 1949. His first
Modern release, “It's Midnight,” went to #3 on the R&B
charts. It was an early example of the use of piano triplets, a
technique used extensively by Fats Domino. Littlefield's use
of triplets preceded Domino's, although it's doubtful that either of them originated the style.
Littlefield had about a dozen releases
on Modern, often accompanied by Maxwell Davis on tenor sax. Two
others, “Farewell” and “I've Been Lost” (with Little Lora
Wiggins) also made the charts. These recordings, along with
many alternate takes and unreleased sides, can be found on two Ace
CDs, Kat on the Keys and
Boogie, Blues and Bounce.
In 1952, he moved
to Federal Records, where he released seven singles. The first of
these was originally called “K. C. Loving.” Littlefield claimed to have
written the song and sold it to Jerry Lieber and Mike Stoller. If
so, it was a huge mistake. The song was rerecorded by Wilbert
Harrison in 1959 under the title “Kansas City,” and it went to #1
on the R&B charts. Harrison's version is less interesting than
Littlefield's and features toned-down lyrics.
Harrison: “They've got some crazy little women there, and I'm gonna get me one.”
Littlefield:
“They've got a crazy way of lovin', and I'm gonna get me
some.”
While at Federal, Littlefield also recorded
duets with Little Esther and Lil Greenwood. In spite of the high
quality of these sides, none of them made the charts. They are
collected on the Ace CD Going Back to Kay Cee.
In 1957-58, he
recorded ten sides for Bullseye Records in San Francisco. One of
these, “Ruby, Ruby,” backed by Alice Jean and the Mondellos, is a
favorite among R&B vocal group fans.
Littlefield's
career went into a decline in the '60s, but in the early '70s he made
a triumphant return at the San Francisco Blues Festival. This led to
his first successful European tour in 1978. Around 1980, he married
a Dutch woman and, following the example of many other blues and jazz
musicians, settled permanently in the Netherlands. During the '80s
and '90s, he recorded at least ten albums for European labels, most
of which are not available in this country.
Little Willie
Littlefield performed widely throughout Europe for the last 30 years
and retained his ability to play the piano up to the end. A great
showman, part of his stage routine included removing his right shoe
and pounding the keys with it. Here he is doing an extended version in "Sweet Home Chicago" in the U. K. in 2009. (You might also want to check out this performance of "Every Day I Have the Blues.")
Texas Johnny Brown (1928-2013)
Texas Johnny Brown had very few
recordings under his own name and was not very well known outside his
home state, but he was a favorite of blues and R&B musicians. He died of lung and liver cancer in Houston on July 1, about a week after the death of Bobby
“Blue” Bland, with whom he played for many years. He was 85.
Despite his nickname, John Reilly Brown
was actually born in Ackerman, Mississippi on February 22, 1928. As
a child, he played acoustic guitar with his father, who was a blind
street singer. However, he also listened to jazz guitarist Charlie
Christian, whose influence can be heard on his fluid electric guitar
lines.
He moved to Houston in the '40s and in
1946 became an original member of Amos Milburn's Aladdin
Chickenshackers, one of the most popular R&B bands of the day.
Although most discographies do not identify Milburn's guitarist,
chances are good that he played on most of Milburn's hits. In 1949,
he got his first opportunity to record under his own name, backed by
Milburn and the band. He recorded six sides for Atlantic, two of
which were released as Atlantic 876, “There Goes the Blues”/”The
Blues Rock.” He also recorded four songs for Decca in 1950. Here he is performing "There Go the Blues" in Houston earlier this year.
After a stint in the military, Johnny
Brown returned to Houston and became a regular member of Joe Scott's
band, which backed up most Duke and Peacock recordings. He
also toured regularly with Bobby “Blue” Bland and Little Junior
Parker. He was the composer of “Two Steps From the Blues,” not a hit single, but the title song of one of Bland's best selling albums.
Brown quit the music business in 1963
and worked primarily as a truck driver until he retired in 1991. At
this point, he formed his aptly named Quality Blues Band and performed steadily
for the next two decades. In 1995, he recorded his first CD, Nothin'
But the Truth, on the Choctaw
Creek label. It was nominated for a Handy Award and was followed by
Blues Defender in
2001. This version of "Just Can't Do It" from 2011 is typical of his more recent songs. You might also want to check out this excellent five-song set from an outdoor concert, Blues on the Hill, which can be found here and here.
You may also be interested in reading: The Soul of a Man: Bobby "Blue" Bland (1930-2013)
In March, while writing my lukewarm review of Wayne Shorter's CD, Without a Net,
it occurred to me that it might win both the Downbeat
Critics' and Readers' Polls as Album of the Year, and I might feel
like an ass. The first part of that prediction has come true; we
will have to wait until December to hear from the readers. But Wayne Shorter was the big winner with the critics in this his 80th
year. In addition to his CD victory, he was named Jazz Artist of the Year, his quartet won in the jazz group category, and he was the
winner on soprano sax.
The Downbeat
Critics Poll is a vote among 165 international jazz critics. It
should be noted that Downbeat's
“year” does not coincide with the calendar year, but refers to
the second half of 2012 and the first half of 2013.
Each
year, the critics add one member to the Downbeat
Hall of Fame. This year they have chosen veteran bassist Charlie
Haden, who began his career as a member of Ornette Coleman's quartet,
was the leader of the Liberation Music Orchestra and Charlie Haden's
Quartet West, and has participated in an impressive variety of
projects both as leader and sideman. Haden, who is 75, is struggling
with health problems due to post-polio syndrome, but was able to participate in the Healdsburg (Cal.) Jazz Festival in June. I'm linking to this clip of the Liberation Music Orchestra from 1992 because it features an extended bass solo. Unfortunately, the ending is cut.
A
subset of the critics, the Veterans Committee, can elect pre-1950
artists to the Hall of Fame if the artist receives votes from at
least 66% of them. This year, they selected Mississippi bluesman
Robert Johnson.
Here
are their top ten choices for Album of the Year:
(tie) Neneh
Cherry/The Thing, The Cherry Thing; Kenny Garrett, Seeds
From the Underground
The Historical
Album of the Year is the Miles Davis Quintet, Live in Europe,
1969: The Bootleg Series, Vol. 2.
In addition to
Artist of the Year, the critics choose a performer of the year and a
rising star for each instrument, as well as a Rising Star of the
Year. Here are some of the winners. A complete list can be found here.
Artist
of the Year: Wayne Shorter
Jazz
Group: Wayne Shorter Quartet
Big
Band (tie): Darcy James Argue's Secret Society, Maria Schneider
Orchestra
Trumpet:
Dave Douglas
Trombone:
Wycliffe Gordon
Soprano
Saxophone: Wayne Shorter
Alto
Saxophone: Rusresh Mahanthappa
Tenor
Saxophone: Joe Lovano
Clarinet:
Anat Cohen
Piano:
Jason Moran
Organ:
Joey DeFrancesco
Guitar:
Bill Frisell
Bass:
Christian McBride
Drums:
Jack DeJohnette
Male
Vocalist: Kurt Elling
Female
Vocalist: Cassandra Wilson
Rising
Star of the Year: Gregory Porter
The boundaries of when someone is
considered a “rising star” are unclear. Karrin Allyson was the rising star among female vocalists even though she has been recording for 20
years, and Gregory Porter finished second to Kurt Elling among the
presumably established male vocalists.
The jazz critics also flirt briefly
with the Blues and Beyond genres. “Beyond” refers to popular
music that is enjoyed by jazz critics. Dr. John was named Blues
Artist of the Year and his CD, Locked Down,
was Blues Album of the Year. The Beyond Artists were the
Robert Glasper Experiment, and Jose James' No Beginning, No
End was the Beyond Album of the
Year. Both are artists who blend jazz with R&B.
Book Review: Matthew
Delmont, The Nicest Kids in Town: American Bandstand, Rock
and Roll, and the Struggle for Civil Rights in 1950s Philadelphia.
There was one important change that [producer] Tony [Mammarella] and I made in
1957. Up until that time, the dancers on Bandstand had one
thing in common—they were all white. . . . So in 1957, we were
charting new territory. I don't think of myself as a hero or a civil
rights activist for integrating the show; it was simply the right
thing to do.
Dick Clark,
Dick Clark's American Bandstand
(1997)
Dick Clark's daily
television show, American Bandstand, was a major influence on
American popular music from 1957 to 1963. Clark presided over rock
and roll at a time when the pendulum swung back toward conformity.
The music establishment regained control over the business, white
performers reestablished dominance on the pop charts, and fans
suffered through what most critics regard as a dark period
lacking in creativity.
From 1952 to 1957,
Bandstand, hosted by Bob Horn, was a local Philadelphia after
school program featuring teenagers dancing in the studio to recorded
music, with guest musicians lip-syncing their hits. There was an
explicit whites-only policy regarding the kids in the studio. When
Dick Clark took over as host in 1957, the program obtained a spot on
the nationwide ABC network. In 1964, Clark moved the program to Los
Angeles. It is agreed that after 1964, the high school dancers were
completely integrated. At issue is the period between 1957 and 1963
in Philadelphia.
When Delmont began
his research, he accepted Clark's account, and set out to discover
how integration had occurred so smoothly in the racially-contested
environment of Philadelphia. Instead, he found that Clark's
claim is false. The program remained segregated, for all practical
purposes, from 1957 to 1963. He cites several types of evidence.
Delmont interviewed
both white and black people who participated in American Bandstand
as teenagers. All agreed that there was an unacknowledged
whites-only policy and black dancers were few and far between.
African-Americans reported that when they tried to gain admission,
they were always excluded for some reason: they lacked a membership
card, they didn't meet the dress code, the studio was full, etc. One
(white) interviewee reported that blacks who tried to get in were
“beat up in the parking lot.”
Several times,
African-American teenagers tried to integrate the show. In October
1957, a small group of them, accompanied by a reporter from the
Philadelphia Tribune (a black newspaper), tested the policy. They were admitted, but the
following day it was business as usual. Several articles about
Bandstand's segregation policy appeared in the nation's black
press, but they lacked leverage to influence the policy.
Of course, whether
African-American teenagers appeared on the program is an empirical
question. However, Dick Clark Productions, Inc., controls all the
existing footage of American Bandstand. Delmont was able to
examine 130 video clips from their web archives. He also found
several hundred still photos published by Clark and other sources.
Among thousands of teens, he only found two black girls sitting in
the bleachers in two still photos.
Why did American
Bandstand follow a whites-only policy? Delmont attributes it
primarily to the commercial aspirations of the local station, WFIL,
the network, and the sponsors, who hoped to appeal to a white
suburban audience. Clark may have learned an important lesson from
observing the fate of New York disc jockey Alan Freed, who was
committed to integration. In the Summer of
1957, Freed had a prime time show, The Big Beat, on ABC, the
network Clark would join that Fall. During the closing credits of
the program, one of his guests, black singer Frankie Lymon, in a
moment of spontaneity, danced briefly with a white girl. There was
an national uproar. Freed was told that if the show was to continue,
he could only have white guests. When he refused the show was
cancelled.
Delmont embeds the
Bandstand story in a larger narrative about racial
conflict in Philadelphia. Housing was rigidly segregated, and white
residents formed associations to keep their neighborhoods “safe”
from integration. When African-Americans moved into a previously
white area, real estate speculators profited from “block busting.”
They bought homes cheaply from fleeing whites and sold them at much
higher prices to black families, whose real estate options were limited. De facto segregation in the public schools
was maintained by carefully drawing district lines to conform to
neighborhood racial patterns and by careful choice of the locations
of new schools. All of this took place after the school board passed a resolution claiming that the Philadelphia public schools
were integrated.
Why does all of
this matter? From 1957 to 1963, American Bandstand was an
important symbol of a national youth culture built around rock
music—a culture that it implicitly defined as all-white. This is
ironic given that the music itself was of a genre originated by
African-Americans. Although Clark featured some black musicians as
guests, he used his show to restore white artists, such as
Philadelphia-based “teen idols” Frankie Avalon and Fabian, to a
position of prominence on the pop charts. By coincidence, Clark
happened to be part owner of some of the record labels and publishing
houses whose music he featured.
Delmont takes no
position on whether Dick Clark's claims about integration were
deliberate lies or a classic example of self-serving memory failure.
But his false statements raise a larger issue: How will the civil
rights struggle of the '50s and '60s be remembered? Individuals and
groups who were once a big part of the problem, such as white
Christian churches, now claim to have been part of the solution. As late as 1966, twice as many Americans had an unfavorable view of Martin Luther King as had a favorable one. Those of us who remember the real history of these years are going to
have to document the validity of our memories—memories that are
increasingly challenged by propaganda from corporations and
individuals who would like to rewrite recent history.
Thanks to Gayle
Morrow for calling this book to my attention.
Here's Thelonious Monk playing "Epistrophy" for Japanese television in 1963, with Charlie Rouse, tenor sax; Butch Warren, bass; and Frankie Dunlop, drums.
I have a love/hate relationship with
the Pittsburgh Blues Festival (PBF). The festival has certainly had
its glory days. For example, in 1997, the lineup included Buddy Guy,
Luther Allison, Charles Brown and a Roomful of Blues. That was also
a sad year. When we arrived, there was a handwritten sign at the
entrance to the parking lot saying, “Luther Allison has cancelled.”
Nothing was said during the performance, but we found out later that
he was hospitalized with a brain tumor. Six weeks later, he was
dead.
Unfortunately, 1997 is long gone. In
recent years, the PBF has suffered from two syndromes. One is the
aging rock stars syndrome, in which rock musicians and groups
from the '60s and '70s who are no longer able attract an audience on
their own reinvent themselves as “blues musicians” and play the
festival circuit. The other is the blues lite syndrome.
(“Lite/light” is used here in both senses of the word.) The
premise seems to be that Pittsburghers won't show up for real blues
artists, so you have to attact them with something else—blues-rock, pop, folk, country, gospel, etc. This year, there are no aging rock
stars; the lineup leans toward the blues lite.
Here's
the lineup. Those in italics are referred to by the festival as
“national acts.” The rest are local.
Friday, July 19
5:00 Miss Freddy and Blue Faze
6:30 The Slide Brothers
8:00 Jimmy Adler's Youngblood Blues
Camp
9:00 Big Sam's Funky Nation
Saturday, July 20
2:00 The Olga Watkins Band
3:00 Gina Sicilia
4:30 The Pittsburgh Blues All-Stars
5:30 Joe Louis Walker
7:00 Eric Lindell
9:00 Los Lonely Boys
Sunday, July 21
2:00 Shot o' Soul
3:00 Billy the Kid and the Regulators
4:00 J. D. McPherson
5:30 theCAUSE and Friends
6:00 The Nighthawks with Billy
Price
8:30 Tab Benoit
There are two
legitimate blues stars in this year's lineup. Tab Benoit is a New
Orleans-based singer and guitarist specializing in swamp blues in the
Southern Louisiana-East Texas tradition. He has been recording since
1992. He won the Blues Music Award this year as best Contemporary
Blues Male Artist, which is the blues-rock category, in contrast to
the other three: Acoustic, Soul and Traditional. He's a likeable
guy, widely admired for founding Voice of the Wetlands, an
organization that is attempting to stop erosion of the Louisiana
coastline. Musically, he works around the fringes of the blues and I
find him mediocre, but I can understand why he was scheduled.
I chose this clip
in an effort to put his best foot forward. This is my favorite of
his recordings that I'm familiar with, but it also illustrates the
limitations of both his singing—which pales in comparison to Otis
Redding's original version—and his playing, which is acceptable,
but hardly inspiring.
There other star is
Joe Louis Walker, a blues man of much greater stature in my opinion.
Raised in San Francisco, he started as a rock musician and was a
contemporary of Jimi Hendrix. He formed his blues group, the Boss
Talkers, in 1986 and recorded the first of his 25 or so albums. He
plays a modern variation of Chicago-style electric blues, enhanced by
his soulful vocals. He often includes some acoustic numbers in his
sets, played on a Silvertone slide guitar. I rate him as one of the
half-dozen best blues guitarists playing today. This year he was
inducted into the Blues Hall of Fame, an honor that musicians seldom achieve while they're still alive. His Alligator CD, Hellfire,
was the #1 blues CD of 2012 according to Living Blues, which
does monthly surveys of the playlists of dozens of blues radio
programs. I previously postedthe title song from that CD, so check it out. For variety, here's an acoustic number from Silvertone, one of my favorite of his CDs.
So these two men
have to be the two of the three closers, right? WRONG!!!Tab Benoit closes on Sunday
night, but Joe Louis Walker's set is at 5:30 on Saturday, in between
a local group and Eric Lindell. Lineup placement is important to
blues musicians and fans. This
is an insult to Mr. Walker and an embarrassment to the blues fans of
Pittsburgh! (If there
is some logical explanation for this—for example, if he requested
the time in order to catch an early flight to LA—well, . . . never
mind.)
As much as I admire
Billy Price, seeing him perform is not a novelty for most
Pittsburghers. The rest of the “national acts” are either
non-blues or fall clearly into the blues lite category. The Slide
Brothers are primarily a gospel group. While I enjoy listening to
pedal steel guitar, I found their recent CD disappointing. Los
Lonely Boys are a Tex-Mex group. I'd never heard of J. D. McPherson,
but judging by the music on his website, his genre is rockabilly. As
for Big Sam's Funky Nation, a visit to their website will tell you in 20 seconds whether you want to listen to them for 75 minutes.
Colin Lindell is an
odd choice, since this New Orleans singer's style overlaps with that
of Tab Benoit. A few years ago, he might have been called a rising
star, but since Alligator dropped him, he might be said to be hanging on by his fingernails. Finally, when did it become
conventional for second-rate blues festivals to book one young,
physically attractive white woman who is lacking in experience and
talent? Aren't the women in the audience attractive enough? This
year's Ana Popovic time slot goes to Gina Sicilia. (Listen and weep.)
When is the last
time the PBF booked an acoustic country blues act?
I'm not going to be
able to make it to the PBF this year. What do I recommend? First of
all, I'd only consider going on Saturday, and for only one reason—the
great Joe Louis Walker. You might want to plan on arriving around
4:30 to support some local musicians. And if you're a blues fan,
you'll probably leave around the middle of Eric Lindell's set to beat
the traffic.
Does it matter who
performs at the Pittsburgh “Blues” Festival? I think it does.
For one thing, the festival is cheating the young people who come to
learn what the blues is all about and leave knowing little more than
they did before. Secondly, the PBF is free-riding on the reputation
of a musical tradition that they no longer honor. By calling
themselves a “blues festival,” they get publicity and respect
from sponsors and the media that they wouldn't get if they billed
themselves more honestly as “just another rock festival.”
Finally, they are taking away the livelihood of the real blues
musicians who, if they were booked, could provide Pittsburghers with
an outstanding musical experience.
In 1962, both Dave Brubeck and Tony
Bennett were at the peak of their careers. The Brubeck Quartet was
basking in the success of their three groundbreaking albums of tunes
with offbeat time signatures. Bennett had just released his single
of “I Left My Heart in San Francisco.” The concert was not held
in the White House, but at the outdoor Sylvan Theatre, near the
Washington Monument. It was arranged by President Kennedy to honor
college students working in D. C. for the summer, but there is no
indication that he was present. The event was long rumored to have
been recorded, but the tapes were not located until 2012. Bennett
and Brubeck would not record together again until 2009 at Newport.
The sound quality is very good.
The CD breaks down into three acts.
The Brubeck Quartet plays four tunes; Bennett sings six songs with
his regular accompanists; and Bennett is joined by the Brubeck Trio
(minus Paul Desmond) for another four.
Fortunately, the Brubeck Quartet
session occupies more than half of the CD. Two of the songs are in
5/4. They get off to a disappointing start with their hit, “Take
Five,” taken at a faster-than-usual tempo, and lacking the usual
drum solo by Joe Morello. “Castilian Blues” more than makes up
for it, with a lengthy slow-building solo by Morello that is one of
the best he ever recorded. The remaining two songs are from Jazz
Impressions of Eurasia (1958).
Both are longer than the recorded versions, with Brubeck in
particular stretching out. “Nomad” is a Middle Eastern beat
driven by Morello's tom toms. “Thank You” is Polish-inspired,
with Brubeck's solo morphing into a classical interlude—Chopin,
according to the original album's liner notes.
I'm not a big fan of Tony Bennett.
Most of the songs are up tempo, sung in the supposedly hip style of
Sinatra that was popular at the time. He rushes through them—“Rags
to Riches” is only 1:17—in a relaxed fashion, but tends to bellow
out the endings. There are two ballads. “Small World” seems to
me to have been started in an uncomfortably high key, with unpleasant
results at the end. “San Francisco” is the highlight of
Bennett's performance.
Bennett creates low expectations for
his set with Brubeck by announcing that they haven't rehearsed, but
there are no noticable fluffs. Brubeck solos on all four of the
songs, but as you might expect given the spontaneous nature of the
performance, his improvisations don't deviate much from the melodies.
(This is a good set to play for someone just learning about jazz.)
The CD is an interesting historical
document. If you happen to like both performers, you'll certainly
want to consider it. And jazz fans may purchase it just for the
first 36 minutes or so—an excellent example of the Brubeck Quartet
at their creative best.
Dave Brubeck Quartet
Tracks: Take Five; Nomad; Thank
You (Djiekuje); Castilian Blues.
Personnel: Paul Desmond, alto
sax; Dave Brubeck, piano; Eugene Wright, bass; Joe Morello, drums.
Tony Bennett
Tracks: Just in Time; Small
World; Make Someone Happy; Rags to Riches; One For My Baby; I Left My
Heart in San Francisco.
Personnel: Tony Bennett,
vocals; Ralph Sharon, piano; Hal Gaylor, bass; Billy Exiner; drums.
Tony Bennett/Dave Brubeck Trio
Tracks: Lullaby of Broadway;
Chicago; That Old Black Magic; There Will Never Be Another You.
