Ellington Forever: Enrico Tomasso

To commemorate the 50th anniversary of Duke Ellington’s death – on May 24, 1974 – I’ve asked a number of jazz musicians and aficionados to share their thoughts and feelings about this titan of the music. Today: the ace British trumpeter Enrico Tomasso.

How did you first hear or become aware of Duke Ellington and his music?

Being the son of a jazz musician, the music of Ellington was a part of my regular musical listening from before I can remember. 

Which Ellington recording/tune first piqued your interest?

My father had a heathy percentage of Ellington in his collection and the ones featuring Johnny Hodges were played on a regular basis as he was a favourite of my mother also. I remember being introduced to the sound of “Tricky” Sam Nanton and my father explaining the plunger-pixie technique which created a unique and distinct sound producing a “yah-yah” to the notes played. He then told me an anecdote about when Tyree Glen stepped in for “Tricky Sa”’. Ellington would let Sam take some leave only if he passed on his closely guarded technique to his substitute. With great reluctance he taught Tyree the skill with the proviso, “If you tell anyone else I’ll kill you.” As I was already playing trumpet I naturally was exposed to the way Cootie Williams developed a similar technique on the trumpet – which I’ve studied and used my whole career. The Ellington way of writing made his band instantly recognisable and sounded so different to his contemporaries even to my child’s ear. 

Which period or periods of Ellington’s career are you fondest of?

My induction into Ellington was non-chronological thus I would hear recordings from differing periods, often of the same song, which led to me appreciating his whole output equally and as a constant “work in progress”. I still listen to and love tracks from across the entire output from the 1950s and 1960s  back to the early 1920s.

When you hear his name being mentioned, what springs to mind?

The fact that he was the biggest innovator of jazz composition and development and was always years ahead of contemporaries. For example, you can hear certain harmonic structures being used in the 1930s recordings that only became the mainstream in post-bop forms. Also, his way of hiring musicians for their individual sounds to enrich the collective ensemble in a certain way was inspirational. 

Did you ever see him and his band perform?

I feel very fortunate not only to have heard the Ellington orchestra live but also to have met some of the iconic Ellingtonions. The venue was the Wakefield theatre club in about 1969/70 and my father. in his inimitable fashion, got us backstage into the band room where we met Cootie Williams, Jimmy Hamilton and Cat Anderson. Cat was extremely helpful to me as a developing trumpeter and my mum reminded me in later years that we invited him to stay and have some home-cooked Italian food for which he was graciously thankful.  

Which are your favourite recordings? (And why?) 

It’s always hard to answer this question. I have so many favourites – picking the best is impossible. Old King Doojie is one of them. A perfect example of Ellington’s advanced harmonic sense. The theme stated on the saxes is indicating the key of Cm whilst the response from the brass intimates an entirely different key of Bb major. The suspense this creates, played with startling vibrancy by the ensembles and perfectly balanced solos alongside the driving rhythm of Sonny Greer and co, adds up to an incredible piece of music which I describe as no less than genius. I can repeat this critical appreciation to a hundred more recordings and still not be able to pick a favourite.

Are there any particular Ellington numbers you like to play?

Answer to this is most of them. I have been fortunate to have performed with many bands – notably The Midnight Follies, Harlem and Echoes Of Ellington – playing Ellington transcriptions from every period, and the experience is so rewarding. Playing any of the ballads – eg: In A Sentimental Mood, Sophisticated Lady, Prelude to a Kiss, Black Butterfly …. – in small band settings is always a dream.

Which are your favourite albums? (And why?)

I will admit to a favourite here as Live at Newport is such an important milestone in the Ellington band. A pivotal time of the Orchestra between periods, with players like Clark Terry helping the transition. And of course the incredible 27 choruses of Paul Gonsalves as part of The Festival Suite, a forerunner to many contemporary concepts in Jazz orchestral writing. But apart from this huge significance it shows that Ellington could get through to the audience and create a live musical experience of unsurpassed joy. 

Do you remember when Duke Ellington died – and what the reaction was like?

I was only 13 so I don’t remember much about it. In some ways I felt he was immortal because of the legacy he left behind.

2 Comments

Filed under Ellingtonia

Ellington Forever: Russell Davies

To commemorate the 50th anniversary of Duke Ellington’s death – on May 24, 1974 – I’ve asked a number of jazz musicians and aficionados to share their thoughts and feelings about this titan of the music. Today: the broadcaster, writer and jazz documentary filmmaker Russell Davies. Next time: Enrico Tomasso

How did you first hear or become aware of Duke Ellington and his music?

I was first introduced to Ellington as an enthusiasm-in-itself by my school classmate David Marks (later a KC) who caught on to him while I was still working through King Oliver and Jelly Roll Morton. We first bonded in a jazz sense over an LP called Great Jazz Pianists, issued in 1959 on RCA Camden. It had everything from Peterson and Garner to Morton on it, and the Duke was represented by Rockin’ In Rhythm, the 1931 version, which we loved. 

David was half French and had picked up more Ellington in France, unavailable here at the time. Later in life, he practised in Chicago as a lawyer for a while, and met Ellington – actually what happened was that Paul Gonsalves got completely wasted and Dave was one of two volunteers who carried him out. Ellington noticed this, and gave Dave his calling card, which remained one of his most reassured possessions until his death.

 Which period or periods of Ellington’s career are you fondest of?

I remained fond of early Ellington, collecting for example all the many versions I could find of East St Louis Toodle-Oo (which the Duke called “todle-o”), including a fascinating one with Jabbo Smith, whom I later interviewed in NYC. Even my father liked that number, because he said the opening dirge-like theme resembled some Welsh hymn-tune he knew. But as the reissue programmes of the record companies got going here, I moved quickly on to the Blanton-Webster era. By then I was a trombone-player, so I was very fond of Lawrence Brown and Tricky Sam – and Juan Tizol actually, because I had a valve-trombone. 

An early Duke/Brown feature I got to love was Adelaide Hall’s version of Baby, with its marvellous unhurried tempo. I interviewed her too, twice – once in company with Cab Calloway. I’d asked Calloway on an earlier occasion which of Duke’s musicians he’d have poached, given the chance. He had to think about it, but he said: “Lawrence Brown. Trombone. Beautiful.” He was grinning as he answered.

When you hear his name being mentioned, what springs to mind?

I saw Duke play several times, so I have lots of mental pictures of him. His shiny suits were always memorable, bulky in the jacket region, stovepipe-thin in the trousers, which were always that little bit short (Sunak-like!) to expose his silk socks and extremely shiny pump-like patent-leather shoes. The arm-waving manner of conducting wasn’t wasn’t quite like anybody else’s – often it was like hailing a very distant taxi.. And there was the perennial joke of his holding a sheet of music up for Johnny Hodges to “read”, and Hodges disdainfully ignoring it. The way the band came to the stand was notorious – never as one body, but in ones and twos, gradually filling the chairs, possibly hoping for their own round of applause which they often got. Cootie Williams came last, and of course played behind the beat in his rhetorical style most of the evening. I wrote in The Listener once (review-depping for Sandy Brown) that Cootie sometimes sounded as if he were keeping time with another band, across the street.

 Did you ever see the Ellington band in action?

The closest any of us came to the band physically was in Great St May’s Church, 1967, when Duke played his first-version Sacred Concert. Our university group, the Idle Hour Jazz Band, were among the first to buy tickets. I’m going to be talking about this occasion in July in King’s College Chapel, because the Crouch End Festival Chorus is singing its own version of the piece, and I’m there as a witness to the original. 

We were quite close to the stage (the holy end), and I was on the end of a row, with my foot sticking out a bit – I remember that because Johnny Hodges, on his way to the stage, tripped over it. I could have ended a great career there. I sat next to our clarinet player, Trevor Stent, and I remember his sobs of panic (“Oh NO! you CAN’T do that!”) when Russell Procope, an early arrival, starting carving visible strips off his reed. But of course he’d been doing it since the 1920s. The only person we were envious of at the Cambridge event was a drummer we knew under the name of Freddie Foskett, who wangled sole permission to be present at Duke’s rehearsal, where he took many fine photographs – we’d no idea he was a serious photographer at all (he wasn’t a great drummer). He’s gone now, but his work is quite revered – under his proper name of Brian Foskett.

Twenty years later, I made a BBC2 documentary – a long one – called Duke Ellington – And His Famous Orchestra, filmed mostly in America, and got to know the Ellington world much better. Duke was dead by then, much lamented by all – especially his personal physician, Dr Luther Cloud (Lester Young’s doctor too), who saw him in his last days. “And he was such a nice-looking man,” he said, almost tearfully, meaning that by that time he no longer was. Anyway that film was crammed with interviews – with Duke’s sister Ruth, with Mercer his son, Cootie, Clark Terry, Al Hibbler, Louis Bellson, Jimmy Hamilton (very useful), Dizzy Gillespie, John Sanders, Dick Hyman (demonstrating the James P. Johnson style), Pastor John Gensel, Cab and so on. It was Jimmy H. who told us that Cootie and Cat Anderson were known as the Bookends, because they got on so badly that they had to be placed at opposite ends of the trumpet section. 

Which are your favourite recordings/albums?

Favourite records are too many to list. I like all of 1939-45, and pretty well anything with Ivie Anderson on it, and have an odd fondness for the slightly preposterous Flamingo with Herb Jeffries. (Ed Anderson who wrote the lyric is also in the film.) I like oddments like Tonk, the Ellington/Strayhorn piano duet. By some accident, I happen to be specially fond of all the songs beginning with I: I Ain’t Got Nothin’ but the Blues, I Didn’t Know About You, I Got It Bad (and That Ain’t Good), I Let a Song Go Out of My Heart, I’m Beginning to See the Light, I’m Just a Lucky So-and-So, In a Mellow Tone and In a Sentimental Mood.

Do you remember when Duke Ellington died – and what the reaction was like?

I don’t remember much about his death, except the same sort numbness that set in when Louis died. The last band of Duke’s I saw was a bit of a mess – full of just-about-heard-of-him players, too many saxophones etc. And the leader obviously not well, though we still loved him madly. 

Leave a comment

Filed under Ellingtonia

Ellington Forever: Scott Hamilton

To commemorate the 50th anniversary of Duke Ellington’s death – on May 24, 1974 – I’ve asked a number of jazz musicians and aficionados to share their thoughts and feelings about this titan of the music. Today: the magisterial American tenor saxophonist Scott Hamilton. Next time: Russell Davies

Scott Hamilton, Pizza Express, March 2022 (c) Alison Kerr

How did you first hear or become aware of Duke Ellington and his music?

When I was little (maybe 8), I became fascinated with the chapter on Ellington in The Pictorial History of Jazz. I was especially fascinated by Johnny Hodges who I thought looked so cool. I saved up and bought In A Mellotone at the record store and played it to death.

Which period or periods of Ellington’s career are you fondest of?

They are all equally interesting to me.

Did you ever see him and his band perform?

Yes! The first time was 1970 at Providence College, about a month before Hodges died. After that, I saw the band twice – once at a dance, which was pretty amazing. We could stand right in front of the saxes and read the music.

Which are your favourite recordings? 

I love too many to list here but I’m really fond of Unknown Session and Ellington 65 and 66.

Do you remember when Duke Ellington died – and what the reaction was like? 

Right before I came to NY the whole band started dying. It was spooky. One of my first gigs was at Gregory’s on 1st Ave. Brooks Kerr was the leader and the band was Russell Procope and Sonny Greer. And me for 8 weeks!

Scott Hamilton & Brian Kellock (piano) play the Edinburgh Jazz Festival on July 18

Leave a comment

Filed under Ellingtonia

Ellington Forever: Bruce Adams

To commemorate the 50th anniversary of Duke Ellington’s death – on May 24, 1974 – I’ve asked a number of jazz musicians and aficionados to share their thoughts and feelings about this titan of the music. Today: the dynamic Scottish trumpeter Bruce Adams. Tomorrow: Scott Hamilton

How did you first hear or become aware of Duke Ellington and his music?

I first became aware of Duke Ellington through Django Reinhardt. My father, who was a guitarist, bought the album Django the Unforgettable when I was about seven. One of the first tracks to make an impression on me was C Jam Blues. Later on, I heard Django’s recording of In A Sentimental Mood, and began to realise there was something of interest here. Roll on to when I was 11 and had just started playing trumpet. Ellington numbers kept on popping up so a lot of my trumpet heroes at the time were Ellington sidemen – Cootie Williams, Ray Nance and Cat Anderson – and I was always looking out for new stuff to hear.

Did you ever see Ellington and his band perform?

Sadly, I never got to hear Ellington live myself. I did however see several television broadcasts which blew me away. I think the one from Coventry Cathedral in 1966 was probably the most memorable. The two numbers that stood out for me were Diminuendo and Crescendo in Blue and Single Petal of a Rose.

My father had seen Ellington when he came here and performed with a British rhythm section. That would have been the time of the M.U ban on visiting Americans. Ellington had Ray Nance who did his complete act of trumpet, violin, vocals and flying backflips across the stage. He was known in the band as “Floorshow”. The singer was Kay Davis and the British guys included Malcolm Mitchell on guitar and Tony Crombie on drums. I think the bass player might have been Jack Fallon, but I could be wrong there.

What do you think made Ellington’s orchestra so great?

I always felt Ellington’s band to be the most multifaceted of all the big bands. The band never stopped developing and growing. They had people – like Harry Carney – who virtually spent their whole career in the band. Johnny Hodges was such an integral part of band as was Paul Gonsalves. You couldn’t imagine either of them without thinking of Ellington.

Which Ellington numbers have you enjoyed playing?

In the 1990s, I had the privilege of playing the Cat Anderson chair with Echoes of Ellington, a British band run by Pete Long. We played everything in the Ellington repertoire from the early Cotton Club charts to the later suites written in collaboration with Billy Strayhorn. I played The Madness in Great Ones [from Such Sweet Thunder] for the Birmingham Royal Ballet. That was some of the best music I ever played, although that solo probably shortened my life by five years …

I was lucky to work a lot in Germany with Jimmy Woode, the bass player on Such Sweet Thunder. He was a nice man and had so many stories of Duke. There is one story I remember about when Duke stole three of the guys from Harry James’s band. One was Willie Smith who replaced Johnny Hodges for a couple of years. It was known as “The Great James Robbery” … A journalist asked Harry James about it and he said if Duke had asked him, he’d have gone too. Ellington’s band could be chaotic and sometimes sounded terrible. They also played mind games with Duke, and vice versa, but when they hit the groove there was nothing like it. 

Do you remember when Duke Ellington died?

I was 22 when Duke died, aged 75. We were all saddened but not surprised: in comparison to a lot of his contemporaries he had a long life. He did, however, leave a fantastic legacy which we’re lucky to have. As I’ve grown older I’ve learned to appreciate it even more, and if you are a mainstream jazz musician, Ellington is always going to make an appearance in your orbit.

We have a lot to be thankful for.

Bruce Adams is playing at the Leith Jazz Festival, various venues in Leith, Edinburgh between June 7 and 9. Visit http://www.bruce-adams.co.uk for more info on Bruce’s work.

Leave a comment

Filed under Ellingtonia

Ellington Forever: Dave Green

To commemorate the 50th anniversary of Duke Ellington’s death – on May 24, 1974 – I’ve asked a number of jazz musicians and aficionados to share their thoughts and feelings about this titan of the music. Today: the doyen of British bass players, Dave Green. Tomorrow: Bruce Adams

Ben Webster, who dazzled in Dave Green’s favourite incarnation of the Ellington band, with Dave himself, backstage at Ronnie Scott’s, London, 1967

How did you first hear or become aware of Duke Ellington and his music?

I first became aware of Duke Ellington when I was a young teenager, maybe around the age of 15. I used to listen to Willis Conover’s Jazz Hour which was broadcast over the Voice Of America every night at 12.15am on medium wave. The reception wasn’t that good but the music was fantastic. The programme opened up with Willis Conover saying “This is the Voice of America Jazz Hour” followed by Duke playing Take The ‘A’ Train. It was wonderful and mesmerising. 

What was your first Ellington record/CD? Or the recording/tune which first piqued your interest?

The first LP that I bought was Duke Ellington At His Very Best on RCA Victor. It was a compilation of various Duke Ellington tracks from the 1940s including Jack The Bear featuring the wonderful young bassist Jimmy Blanton. Of all the great bassists in the history of the music, I still go back to Blanton as my biggest influence.

Which period or periods of Ellington’s career are you fondest of?

My favourite period of Duke’s career is the 1939-41 band known as the Blanton/Webster band.   

When you hear his name being mentioned, what springs to mind?

Duke’s name to me represents the peak, in fact the very summit of the music we call Jazz. 

Did you ever see him and his band perform?

I went to see Duke at the Hammersmith Odeon on Valentine’s Day 1965. It was an unforgettable experience. To see and hear the band live was sensational. The legendary names of Cootie Williams, Ray Nance, Lawrence Brown, Johnny Hodges, Russel Procope, Harry Carney were still there.  To hear the saxophone section, which included Paul Gonsalves, was alone worth the price of admission. I couldn’t believe the sound of Johnny Hodges’ alto and the baritone of Harry Carney. It was a wonderful evening of Duke’s music which I will never forget.

Which are your favourite recordings? 

My favourite recordings are too numerous to mention but here are a few: 

  • The Duke Ellington Jimmy Blanton duets recorded in October 1940. Jimmy Blanton was a true innovator of the bass. He was just 21 when he recorded these four duets with Duke. 
  • The legendary live recording from Fargo, North Dakota on 7 November 1940. This recording shows how great the band sounded on a live date. It was Ray Nance’s first night with the Duke.
  • From the studio recordings of the 1940/41 band – Sepia Panorama, Jack The Bear, Cottontail, Take The ‘A’ Train, Sidewalks of New York, All Too Soon, Harlem Air Shaft, I Got It Bad And That Ain’t Good, Warm Valley, Jumpin’ Pumpkins.

I’ve just picked out a few but I love all the records that were made by the 1940/41 band. From March 1940, when the band started recording for RCA Victor, the band took off. The addition of Jimmy Blanton in the rhythm section and Ben Webster in the saxes spurred Duke onto new heights of inspiration and in 1940 he produced a series of masterpieces one after the other. 

– Such Sweet Thunder, released in 1957, which includes the exquisite Johnny Hodges playing The Star Crossed Lovers.

– Black, Brown And Beige – the 1944 RCA Victor recording. 

Are there any particular Ellington numbers you like to play?

It’s a constant inspiration to play Duke’s music. Of course, I love to play Take The ‘A’ Train. I also love to play the songs written by Billy Strayhorn or in collaboration with the Duke, such as Isfahan, Day Dream, Passion Flower and Something To Live For. 

A few months ago I did a live recording at the Pizza Express, Dean Street with singer Ian Shaw, saxophonist Tony Kofi and pianist Barry Green. The album, which is being released in June on CD and LP on the Pizza’s new label PX Records, is titled An Adventurous Dream and is dedicated to the music of Billy Strayhorn and his collaborations with Duke. Some of the titles we do are Blood Count, Don’t Get Around Much Anymore, A Flower Is A Lovesome Thing and Passion Flower. There’s a couple of gigs coming up with the group – the Swanage Jazz Festival on July 12 and the Watermill, Dorking on August 20.

I’m also involved in a couple of other Duke projects with the pianist Alex Webb.The Pocket Ellington is a seven piece band dedicated to playing the music of Ellington small groups. The band includes Alan Barnes, Tony Kofi and drummer Winston Clifford. The debut gig with the band is at the Pizza Express, Dean Street on September 2.

The other project with Alex is a tribute to Ben Webster called Big Ben which we are doing at the Scarborough Jazz Festival on September 29. This involves the same line-up as the seven piece except it has Clark Tracey on drums plus a string quartet to recreate the Ben Webster with strings LP Webster’s Dictionary, which was recorded in London in 1970 and which I was honoured to play bass on.

We’ve already done a couple of gigs with Big Ben, including the London Jazz Festival last November. Tony Kofi does a brilliant job of emulating Ben’s playing and does it with great respect for the great man.

A word from our sponsor (😉). If you enjoyed reading this content, please consider making a donation via PayPal to support the blog. Times are tough in journalism and jazz!

Leave a comment

Filed under Ellingtonia

Ellington Forever: Clark Tracey

To commemorate the 50th anniversary of Duke Ellington’s death – on May 24, 1974 – I’ve asked a number of jazz musicians and aficionados to share their thoughts and feelings about this titan of the music. Today: Britain’s leading jazz drummer, Clark Tracey. Tomorrow: Dave Green

How did you first hear or become aware of Duke Ellington and his music?

I was lucky enough to hear Ellington’s music from infancy – he was constantly played at my house. Stan [Clark’s father, the renowned pianist and composer Stan Tracey] was particularly fond of the 15 minute extended version of Mood Indigo from the 1950 album Masterpieces. He played In A Mellotone a lot on gigs, but I think it was simply because everyone knew the changes!

What was your first Ellington record? Or the recording/tune which first piqued your interest?

Too many to pin down although I’ve always had a special place for Live in Newport 1956.

Which period or periods of Ellington’s career are you fondest of?

All of them, but especially the Sam Woodyard era. Sam’s input for me was a special concept of keeping time.  His cymbal, where he played the cymbal, and his solid time were hugely influential on me.  The comparison of his version of Skin Deep to Louis Bellson’s original version exemplifies his hipness and groove.  He also made great use of the offbeat “knock” as heard to great effect on Diminuendo And Crescendo In Blue in the late 1950s.

When you hear his name being mentioned, what springs to mind?

Orchestration and swing.

Did you ever see him and his band perform?

I only saw him once at Westminster Abbey in the early 1970s. We were way back in the audience so couldn’t see him too clearly.  The giant figure of Harry Carney was more prominent.  I remember Princess Margaret was there but as far as I can recall, Ellington was in a white jacket with the band in blue jackets.  It was a long time ago!

Which is your favourite recording? (And why?)

Queen’s Suite – the crankier side of the Duke. Crankier in terms of his compositions being less hard swing, but more intricate and personal towards the subject, her majesty.  The writing is unusual and more profound in its way.

Is there/are there any particular Ellington numbers you like to play?

The Nutcracker Suite, Such Sweet Thunder, the Sacred Music.

Which are your favourite albums? (And why?)

Live at Newport ‘56.  The crowd reaction enhanced the band and it swings hard.

Do you remember when Duke Ellington died – and what the reaction was like? 

I was 13.  My family was deeply saddened.

Clark has some gigs coming up with an all-star line-up over the next few weeks, including:

MAY

20 Isleworth

22 Stoke by Nayland

24 Chichester

26 Hexham Jazz Festival

31 Harlow

JUNE

6 Cadogan Hall

For more information, visit Clark’s website

A word from our sponsor (😉). If you enjoyed reading this content, please consider making a donation via PayPal to support the blog. Times are tough in journalism and jazz!

Leave a comment

Filed under Ellingtonia

Ellington Forever: Alan Barnes

To commemorate the 50th anniversary of Duke Ellington’s death – on May 24, 1974 – I’ve asked a number of jazz musicians and aficionados to share their thoughts and feelings about this titan of the music. First up … the wonderful British saxophonist, clarinettist, bandleader, arranger and composer Alan Barnes. Tomorrow: Clark Tracey

How did you first become aware of Duke Ellington’s music?

When I was 15, my parents bought me a Selmer alto saxophone for the then exorbitant sum of £200 from Stock and Chapman’s music store in Manchester. An old musician sat in the corner smoking a roll-up, perhaps sensing that I was being spoiled, said: “Now you’ve got that, get a Johnny Hodges record.” Soon afterwards, I purchased a remarkable collection of JH small band performances on Verve, featuring lots of other Ellingtonians – Ben Webster, Billy Strayhorn, Sonny Greer and Laurence Brown amongst them. There were a few non Ellington names on there as well: John Coltrane (not given any solos!) and trumpeter Emmet Berry (often called the greatest Ellingtonian to not join Ellington). I loved the music, with great charts featuring lots of blues and rhythm changes type things alternating with gorgeous ballads. The Strayhorn composition Day Dream really caught my ear. The sleeve notes mentioned that Hodges made these records when on a break from Ellington in the early-mid 1950’s so next purchase was an Ellington recording.

What was your first Ellington record?

It was The Popular Duke Ellington, which is a 1966 session revisiting and reworking some of the Duke’s biggest hits. It started with Take The A Train and then there were lovely versions of Mood Indigo, Perdido and Black and Tan Fantasy. I didn’t know at the time that Duke was constantly revisiting earlier material, including the medleys with which he would begin his concerts, getting the hits out of the way quickly so that he could move on to newer things. There is an unbelievable version of I Got It Bad on there with Hodges getting the biggest alto sound ever! It would be a while before I got around to hearing the first versions of these tunes.

Which period or periods of Ellington’s career are you fondest of?

I like all periods of the band’s history, but if pushed I’d have to choose the Blanton/ Webster years.  Blanton revolutionised jazz bass playing giving it such a strong solo voice. Ben brought so much to the band, joining one of the greatest sax sections ever. Cottontail was a huge hit for him of course. There’s a general opinion that the band lost its sound when Hodges left for a few years but Willie Smith always sounds good in this band (as he did in every band he joined). I also loved the bands after Paul Gonsalves came in.

When you hear Duke Ellington’s name being mentioned, what springs to mind?

I always think of the courage he must have had to keep a band of this size and quality on the road whilst constantly composing new music. He invested his song royalties back into the orchestra and created something completely unique. It will never happen again in this way. He wrote specifically for the strengths of his players who were all, first and foremost, jazz musicians. I also think of his catch phrase “love you madly” which could be used in the most ironic way.

Which are your favourite recordings? (And why?)

 I love the later suites – Such Sweet Thunder, The New Orleans Suite and Queen’s Suite. A lot of Sweet Thunder was written by Billy Strayhorn and their relationship was a complex one. I love jazz compositions that develop rather than just being in the tune, string of solos, tune. There are many examples of longer form writing for the band right from Reminiscing in Rhythm, Harlem Airshaft and Black, Brown and Beige.  As well as all the most famous things I have four albums that I constantly return to: Duke Ellington’s Spacemen – The Cosmic Scene, Piano Reflections, which is piano trio, Unknown Session from 1960 (a beautifully recorded small band) and Blues in Orbit. Money Jungle is a brilliant session with Duke, Charles Mingus and Max Roach which still sounds contemporary.

Are there any particular Ellington numbers you like to play?

I regularly play Chelsea Bridge, A Flower is a Lovesome Thing, Tonight I Shall Sleep With a Smile on My Face, I let a Song Go Out of My Heart, Johnny Come Lately, Do Nothin’ Til You Hear From Me and Drop Me Off in Harlem. I like playing Charlie the Chulo and The Mooche on duo gigs with David Newton.

Here’s Alan leading an all-star band on Harlem Airshaft at the much-missed Norwich Jazz Party in 2012.

For details of Alan’s forthcoming gigs, visit his website

A word from our sponsor (😉). If you enjoyed reading this content, please consider making a donation via PayPal to support the blog. Times are tough in journalism and jazz!

4 Comments

Filed under Ellingtonia

Louis Forever

Twenty years ago I celebrated Louis Armstrong’s influence with some of my favourite musicians for The Herald Magazine, in advance of a centenary concert at that year’s Edinburgh Jazz & Blues Festival. It all still holds true – on the occasion of the 120th anniversary of the great man’s birth.

Jazz anniversaries come and go, but there is none as significant or as worthy of celebration as that of Louis Armstrong. He was jazz. No other jazz musician has had the impact or the profile that Armstrong had. While the general public remembers him primarily as a much-loved entertainer who came from a jazz background, the jazz world regards him as the single most important figure in 20th Century American music. Armstrong invented jazz as an art form, and he revolutionised popular singing. His influence was universal and enduring.

Genius springs from unlikely sources – and Louis Armstrong was no exception. He was born on August 4, 1901, in the seedy Storyville section of New Orleans. Just 21 years later, the waif who learned to play trumpet while in a home for wayward boys had musicians queuing up to hear him, and all of Chicago buzzing with talk of his brilliant on the bandstand with his mentor King Oliver’s Creole Jazz Band. His impact on jazz was immediate. His dynamic, driving playing revitalised the Fletcher Henderson band in New York in the mid-1920s. What he played one night would be copied all over town the next day. And when he first got into a studio with his own bands, specially created for recording sessions, the results turned the jazz community upside down.

The 64 sides Armstrong recorded between 1925 and 1929 with his Hot Five, Hot Seven and Savoy Ballroom Five line-ups shaped the course of jazz and are now regarded as the single most important body of work in jazz history. These were the records on which his genius burst out in all its glory for the first time. His fantastic playing – dazzling lyricism and originality, innate swing and daring stop-time solos – threw down the gauntlet to musicians everywhere. The late guitarist Danny Barker once said: “The Okeh record company released a record by Louis about every six weeks, and everybody waited for the records because each one of them was a lesson in something new; in things to come.”

Armstrong had already inspired other musicians who came to hear him, but the Hot Five records had an even greater impact. They are the DNA of jazz.

Trumpeter Max Kaminsky wrote: “Above the electrifying tone, the magnificence of his ideas and the rightness of his harmonic sense, his superb technique, his power and ease, his hotness and intensity, his complete mastery of the horn – above all this he had swing. No-one knew what swing was until Louis came along. It’s more than just the beat, it’s conceiving the phrases in the very feeling of the beat, moulding and building them so that they’re an integral, indivisible part of the tempo. The others had the idea of it, but Louis could do it; he was the heir of all that had gone before and the father of all that was to come.”

Had Armstrong never made a record after 1929, he would still be the most important figure in jazz. Critic Gary Giddens has said: “In those [Hot Five] recordings, Armstrong proves for the first time that an improvisation cane be just as coherent, imaginative, emotionally satisfying, and durable as a writer piece of music.”

As he played, Armstrong wrote the language of jazz, transforming an ensemble music into a soloist’s art. One of his contemporaries, trumpeter Mutt Carey, later remembered: “He tried to make a picture out of every number he was playing to show just what it meant. He had ideas, enough technique to bring out what he wanted to say. He made you feel the number and that’s what counts.”

Miles Davis, the trumpeter who himself broke plenty of new ground, said: “You can’t play anything on a horn that Louis hasn’t played – I mean, even modern.”

Not only did Armstrong influence his contemporaries; he has continued to influence generations of jazz musicians. Cornettist Warren Vaché says: “He was the 20th Century Beethoven as far as I’m concerned. Nobody every swung before Louis. He taught us all how to play in 4/4 time and swing like mad. He also invented the language of the trumpet and pretty much the language of improvisation, too. It just doesn’t get any better than him.”

Marty Grosz, the guitarist and singer, echoes the sentiment. “Let’s put it this way, Louis Armstrong was to jazz, or is still to jazz, what Shakespeare was to English literature. He somehow, innately, just knew what to do and when to do it. He was the bell-wether of everything that followed. He pointed the way. That’s not to say that there weren’t many other talented people, but somehow Louis rhythmically freed up the whole thing.”

Tenor saxophonist Scott Hamilton says: “There is no other single person who has had the kind of impact on how we play the music than Louis Armstrong had, and his Hot Five recordings were pioneer examples. He continued the rest of his life to influence people, and he continued to make influential recordings, but those ones from the 1920s were the ones which first showed the way.”

It’s also important to note that Armstrong showed the way, not only to trumpeters, but to players of every instrument – a rare legacy, as clarinettist and saxophonist Ken Peplowski points out. “There are a few people who have come through the jazz pantheon who do that: Charlie Parker’s one, but Armstrong was certainly the first.”

Armstrong’s phenomenal achievements as a pioneer don’t end with his trumpet playing. He was also, as Gary Giddens said in Ken Burns’ series Jazz, “the single most important singer that American music has produced.” His first big hit, Heebie Jeebies, introduced the world to his gravelly style of scat singing, and his way of improvising with his voice as freely as if it were an instrument was enormously influential.

Danny Barker said: “That’s when the song stylist came in. People began to buy records because they liked a certain personality – Louis Armstrong was responsible for that.” Billie Holiday, Ella Fitzgerald and Frank Sinatra are among those who were inspired by his looser style of singing, his way of personalising songs.

Ken Peplowski is one of a huge number of musicians – including clarinettist Artie Shaw and tenor saxophonist Coleman Hawkins – who have credited Armstrong with inspiring him to create his own music. Shaw said that Armstrong taught him “that you should do something that was your own,” something that expresses who you are. Peplowski says: “He was a great entertainer and a great artist. He didn’t compromise either of these aspects – and almost refused to. He was one of the first people who presented himself in a very natural state – take it or leave it; this is what I do.”

But the last word goes to the late trumpeter Dizzy Gillespie who memorably summed up the feelings of thousands of jazz musicians the world over when he said of Louis Armstrong: “Without him – no me.”

2 Comments

Filed under Uncategorized

Jim Petrie obituary

Jim Petrie, who has died at the age of 83, was a highly regarded stalwart of the Scottish jazz scene, a gifted cornettist and the leader of the Diplomats of Jazz, a much-loved classic jazz band which was something of an Edinburgh institution. His height gave him an imposing appearance, but although he towered over many other musicians musically as well as physically, he was an extremely modest and quietly spoken character who was taken aback by his own popularity and his reputation as a cornettist with a hot sound and lyrical, swinging style. 

He was born James Petrie in Edinburgh in 1937. The youngest of three boys, he was the son of a train driver and a housemaid/factory worker. It was during his last year at Tynecastle Secondary School that he – along with his pal Jack Weddell – took up playing music. He told the Scottish Jazz Archive last year: “We went to the room and all the instruments were on the floor – there was a choice. I saw the smallest one – the cornet – and Jack took the trombone.” Petrie was already interested in jazz, thanks to his brother John, who had begun to assemble a record collection of traditional jazz which, when they were teenagers, was enjoying a revival. 

For a while, he took lessons with Jock Miller, a trumpeter who played in the pit band at the King’s Theatre. “I got a cuff of the ear for mistakes from him – I was 15. That’s why I stopped going to him. Jack and I practised together instead.” Initially, Petrie was particularly influenced by the playing of the early New Orleans jazz trumpeter Bunk Johnson, a forerunner of Louis Armstrong who was first recorded in the early 1940s, towards the end of his life.

Petrie, who served an apprenticeship as a painter and decorator when he left school, soon began going to gigs. During this period, the city was bursting with bands representing all the variations of classic and traditional jazz. He and Weddell became regulars at the India Buildings, on Victoria Street, where two now-legendary local bands, one led by clarinettist Sandy Brown and one by trumpeter Alex Welsh, packed the place out every week.

“They would do an hour each, and it cost us sixpence to get in; a shilling for non-members,” recalled Petrie last year. “Brown’s band was out of this world.” At a farewell party at the Crown Bar for Brown before he left for London, Petrie and Weddell were approached by Mike Hart, the young banjo player who would eventually go on to establish the Edinburgh Jazz Festival. This meeting ultimately led to the formation of the Climax Jazz Band which existed in various forms – Petrie was out of the line-up during his two years’ National Service in Germany in the late 1950s – for several decades. 

The 1950s were colourful times in Edinburgh’s thriving young jazz scene. Trad jazz was hugely popular amongst teenagers and twentysomethings; to the extent that there was an annual Scottish Jazz Band Championship at the St Andrews Hall in Glasgow to which jazz bands, including the Climax, came from all over Scotland to participate. In Edinburgh, the Climax Jazz Band’s regular gigs became moveable feasts because they would run foul of disapproving residents.

“Our bass player, Jim Young, had a house with a cellar in St Peters Place– so we’d play there. We had police climbing over the gardens at the back with their binoculars trying to see what was happening. They thought there must be drugs and sex going on – but there was none of either! We ended up playing in the cellar below Dofos Pet Shop on London Road; it was a shambles. The police closed us down. Then the jazz club moved to York Place – The Stud Club. It was for students, not for studs! Then we moved to the Golden Eagle Lodge on the top of Castle Terrace.”

It was at a local jazz club that Petrie met his future wife, Margaret, and he followed her down to London when she took a job there. They married in 1961, and returned to Edinburgh to start a family. James Jr said: “In addition to jazz, classical music was a great love for my dad – Sundays were spent listening to it all day until the TV went on at 7.30. The other great love of his life was football and the Hibs football team in particular. He followed the team religiously.”

In the late 1960s, Petrie – who worked by day as a self-employed painter-decorator – joined Old Bailey’s Jazz Advocates and quit the Climax Jazz Band – though he returned to it later in his career. His elder son James Petrie Jr says: “Jazz was just part of our family life. We often went as a family to listen to him playing ….the Maybury Hotel on a Sunday afternoon, especially. One of the other children that used to go with their jazz playing parents recently described us as being ‘jazz orphans’. It was quite exciting as a child to be in bars drinking bottles of juice with the smells of a smoky pub, and all the colourful characters around us. It was a scene and a lifestyle for all those involved and we were part of it by default. As we got older we would often drink with dad at some of his many residencies, taking our friends as well.”

It was in the 1980s that he founded the Diplomats of Jazz, a four-piece outfit comprising cornet, clarinet, sousaphone and banjo – with occasional vocals by Petrie. As the band evolved, it reflected his love of the playing of such trumpet greats as Jabbo Smith and Louis Armstrong. A class act, it always stood out amongst the other bands on the scene, partly because the four musicians were often decked out in their dinner suits at festival gigs in Edinburgh and Leith, partly because of its unusual – in this century – combination of instruments and also because it performed hot, swinging, seldom-played numbers from the repertoires of such top-notch black ensembles of the 1920s and 1930s as McKinney’s Cotton Pickers and the bands led by Clarence Williams, and avoided the hackneyed staples favoured by trad outfits. 

“He worked in jazz because he loved it,” says James Jr. “He loved to play it and he grew into the musician he was because of that. He kind of blossomed as a professional player despite a non-professional approach to it. I recall the pride he had when Humphrey Lyttelton played him on the radio – it was almost as if even he was taken by surprise by where playing had taken him.”

Margaret Petrie died last year; Jim Petrie is survived by his sons James and Martyn, and by his grandchildren William, Victoria and Aimee.

Jim Petrie, born April 14, 1937; died August 1, 2020.

Leave a comment

Filed under Obituaries, Uncategorized

Annie Ross Obituary

Stars in Scotland 090Annie Ross, who died last week in New York, crammed several careers – and lifetimes – in to her 89 years. A restless, energetic and driven performer, she had showbusiness in her blood, and a need to entertain which lasted her entire life, from her childhood debut with her parents in music hall to the intimate weekly jazz concerts she gave in Manhattan’s Metropolitan Room up until recently.

Ross was accomplished in many areas: as an actress, a lyricist and, of course, as a singer. Had her career ended in the mid 1950s, she would still have earned her place as a jazz pioneer because by the age of 22, she had introduced a new style of singing: vocalese, which involved using her voice to mimic an instrument, and set lyrics to existing instrumental solos. Her big hit, Twisted, a song with music based on a tenor sax solo to which she set droll lyrics, put her – and vocalese – on the map, and ensured her place in jazz history.

Born Annabelle Short in Surrey, in 1930, Ross became part of the family act as soon as she could toddle. May and Jack Short were already an established team, billed as Short & Dalziel, which played on the music hall circuit.

At the age of four, Ross’s talent as a singer and mimic inspired her parents to take her to New York where May’s sister, Ella Logan, was already working as a singer. There, Ross – whose family hoped she would be the next Shirley Temple – won a radio talent show; the prize being a movie contract with MGM. After accompanying her to Hollywood, Ross’s mother returned to Scotland, leaving her daughter in her sister’s care.

The early movie career only comprised two films – one of the Our Gang series of shorts (in which she sang a swinging version of Loch Lomond) and the Judy Garland movie Presenting Lily Mars (1943). As she hit her teens, her relationship with her aunt – who described her as “a handful” – became acrimonious and Ross, determined to make a career in music, began to dream of escape.

Aged 14, she won a songwriting competition with Let’s Fly, which was subsequently recorded by the great American songwriter Johnny Mercer and which demonstrated her witty way with lyrics. Three years later, Ross returned to Glasgow for what proved to be an unhappy reunion with a family she no longer knew. She later admitted that she only felt any kind of love for her brothers Bertie and Jim.

After briefly treading the boards as part of The Logan Family in Scotland, Ross made her London stage debut in the musical Burlesque. Shortly afterwards, in Paris, she appeared in cabaret and began to hang out with jazz musicians. She made her first recording, Le Vent Vert there, in 1949. A relationship with the African-American bebop drummer Kenny Clarke produced a son, Kenny Clarke Jr. (He died in 2018.)

In New York in the 1950s, following the success of Twisted, which was released in 1952, Ross was a fixture on the jazz scene, performing at the legendary clubs on 52nd Street and even subbing at the famous Apollo Theatre for the great Billie Holiday, the troubled singer who went on to become a close friend.

She made notable recordings with such luminaries as Chet Baker, Zoot Sims and Gerry Mulligan but her most important recording was the1958 album Sing a Song of Basie, on which she joined fellow singers Jon Hendricks and Dave Lambert to perform a collection of Count Basie big band arrangements to which Hendricks had written words. Apart from a rhythm section (led by Nat Pierce), this landmark album featured no instruments; the three singers – collectively known as Lambert, Hendricks & Ross – recorded their voices four times each to simulate the entire Basie band. Over the next four years they recorded a total of seven albums.

Ross, meanwhile, began a double love affair – with the doomed stand-up comedian Lenny Bruce and with drugs. By the early 1960s, after an overdose, she quit New York and came to Scotland where she kicked her habit with the help of her brother, Jimmy.

For a very brief period in London in the mid-1960s, she ran a popular Covent Garden nightclub called Annie’s Room with the actor Sean Lynch, whom she had married in 1963. They divorced in 1977 by which time she had declared bankruptcy and lost her home. Lynch died soon afterwards in a car accident.

After appearing in a string of British films and TV series during her marriage, Ross returned to the States, where, in the 1980s and early 1990s, she appeared in a semi-steady stream of films, among them Superman III (1983). Her most important role, however, was in Short Cuts (1993): director Robert Altman created a character – of a jazz singer – specially for her. She spent the rest of her life in the US, and became an American citizen in 2001. In 2010, she was named a “Jazz Master” when she was honoured by the prestigious National Endowment for the Arts body.

Throughout her career, Ross made sporadic appearances on the musical theatre stage, notably the 1956 hit show Cranks (which Princess Margaret loved so much that she attended more than once), The Threepenny Opera (1972) with Vanessa Redgrave and Barbara Windsor, and The Pirates of Penzance (1982) with Tim Curry.

She starred in Dave Anderson and David MacLennan’s musical The Celtic Story (2002) during one of her many visits back to Glasgow, and took part in a concert performance of Stephen Sondheim’s Follies at the Glasgow Royal Concert Hall in 2005.

However, it was as a daring jazz singer with a swinging, sassy style that she will be best remembered, certainly by audiences who saw her at the Glasgow Jazz Festival in 1994 and 2007, or at either of her two concerts at Oran Mor in 2012, when she returned to Glasgow for the premiere of No One But Me, a documentary about her life.

She mesmerised the audience with her still deep and powerful voice, her sense of swing and the way she turned every ballad into a gripping mini-drama, investing the lyrics with raw emotion and prompting listeners to hang on her every word.

Annie Ross, born July 25, 1930; died July 21, 2020

4 Comments

Filed under Obituaries, Uncategorized