Happy 116th Birthday, Artie Shaw!

Born in New York City on this day 116 years ago, Artie Shaw went on to redefine the clarinet's range, flexibility, and lyrical capabilities. From his 1936 composition Interlude in Bb to his famous last recordings in the 1950s, Shaw developed and expanded the vocabulary of jazz clarinet perhaps more than any other player. 

Here is a short version of his Concerto for Clarinet, as performed in the movie Second Chorus (1940). There are great close ups of his finger technique and embouchure, along with improvised sections differing from the studio recording. 

Jazz Clarinet Gear Review: 1942 Conn 444N Connstellation Clarinet (Artie Shaw Model)

As one who grew up in awe of Artie Shaw, I've always wanted the opportunity to at least test the only American made model he endorsed: the large bore Conn 444N, aka the Connstellation.   

Even the name rings like the legend of a bygone era, and the obscure, sometimes contradictory stories of Shaw surrounding the Connstellation add to the misty, Excalibur quality of these rare horns.  

Well, a few years back I finally got my chance. Tom Ianni of Academy Music in Cleveland Heights called me one day, saying he had one available that I could take on trial. 

The case was sturdy and well preserved - brown leather of a bygone era. Opening it made me smile: Excalibur, King Arthur's sword, would certainly need a plush purple lining, and so this case did. A royal instrument for the King of the Clarinet. 

Conn 444N Connstellation Clarinet (Eric Seddon collection)

The 444N is a plain Boehm system with 17 keys, 6 rings, made of grenadilla and pitched in Bb, as seen here. 

Conn 444N Connstellation Clarinet
(Eric Seddon collection)

For years I'd read that Shaw loved the tone quality and the evenness of the instrument - from various quotes, it seems the intonation and scale were superior to other instruments of the day. But Artie also said, multiple times, that the 444N wasn't as loud as a Selmer, and so he had to resort to a Selmer Balanced Tone on the bandstand. 

detail:Conn 444N Connstellation Clarinet
(Eric Seddon collection)

Playing this old beauty myself, I found nothing to add to Shaw's assessment. It is exceptionally even in timbre for the age in which it was made - all registers are balanced and resonate uniformly, from top to bottom. The throat tone keys are a little smaller than Selmer keys, and interestingly enough, the instrument feels noticeably lighter. There is a sweet roundness to the sound, and the pinpoint focus to altissimo notes we so often hear on Shaw's recordings, but it never opens up into the raw power of a Selmer. In some ways it reminds me of Leblancs from the 1990s for it's evenness and restraint. An instrument, perhaps, well ahead of it's time. 

Bell:Conn 444N Connstellation Clarinet
(Eric Seddon collection)

Because of this refined volume and power, Shaw hinted his use of the Conn was limited to the recording studio. But even that is exciting to contemplate. There are anecdotes that the 444N graced his legendary Stardust recording, among others. We'll never know all the details, but I can confirm that the sound world of this instrument is instantly nostalgic - nothing to my knowledge has been made like it since. That ethereal, floating quality Artie Shaw got so often in ballads is present and I, for one, have no doubt many of his classic records were made on a Connstellation.   

Barrel: Conn 444N Connstellation Clarinet
(Eric Seddon collection)

So what does a jazz clarinetist do when a 444N Connstellation falls into his lap? He buys it, of course.  At least that's what I did. To have this instrument is to have a piece of history, from back when American instrument makers were among the finest in the world, trying to produce increasingly superior horns. It immediately conjures up the sound world of the 1940s, especially when paired with a vintage Brilhart mouthpiece. And while it isn't much use for gigs that demand the volume and power of a Selmer Centered Tone, it is perfect for house parties and other intimate settings. 

Case:Conn 444N Connstellation Clarinet
Ready for the gig!
(Eric Seddon collection)

Keep swinging, everyone! 

Jazz Clarinet Timeline to 1961

Jazz Clarinet history, like all others, has certain benchmarks and watershed moments that are of great importance to both the development of the instrument and the overall trajectory of jazz. That this timeline isn't as well known as, say, the jazz trumpet timeline is not because ours is so insignificant--it's mainly because trumpet players have done a better job of educating their audience. The average jazz aficionado knows "Buddy Bolden--King Oliver--Louis Armstrong--Cootie Williams--Roy Eldridge--Dizzy Gillespie--Clifford Brown--Miles Davis--Wynton Marsalis" and can recite similar genealogies with the precision of a Biblical scholar. The clarinet list can be a bit more complicated, but is no less impressive in its own way.

Being familiar with the timeline helps us put artists into context, and understand the importance of the instrument's place in our culture. For the performer, this can give a glimpse into the type of musical symbolism that the horn holds to the greater public.

Some of the important dates on the Jazz Clarinet Timeline are well known. Mention 1938, and most informed jazz fans could tell you about Benny Goodman's Carnegie Hall Concert. Others are less well known.

Here is a basic history of jazz clarinet, with an emphasis on recorded efforts:

Pre-1922--Picou and Tio

New Orleans is the birthplace of jazz, and therefore the birthplace of jazz clarinet. The talking style of playing, the richness of the chalumeau, and the emphasis on full, round sound that can also cut when necessary are all legacies of New Orleans. Players and teachers such as Alphonse Picou and Lorenzo Tio shaped the tradition which was to follow, with Tio in particular teaching many of the NOLA masters of the first generation of recorded jazz clarinetists.

Sidney Bechet

Though he first recorded in 1923, a year affer Leon Roppolo, Bechet was a major musical figure in the United States and Europe prior to that session. It's impossible to exaggerate his importance, not only to clarinet history, but to saxophone and jazz history overall. Bechet has been called the first jazz musician to have a fully developed solo style, and Duke Ellington referred to him as the foundation and symbol of jazz. Of particular interest to the clarinetist are recordings such as 'Blue Horizon', and his duo recordings with another great New Orleans clarinetist, Albert Nicholas (on 'Old Stack O'Lee Blues', Bechet takes the second solo). But honestly, his complete recordings are a must for any serious clarinets. We can't can afford to ignore the depth, soul, and humanity of Sidney Bechet's playing, regardless of the era in which we hear him. In addition to his music making, his autobiography, Treat it Gentle, remains arguably the greatest book written on jazz.


1922--Leon Roppolo

Outside of specialists in early jazz, Leon Roppolo is little mentioned these days. As clarinetist for the New Orleans Rhythm Kings his playing was remarkable and foundational for his influence on Benny Goodman. His altissimo flexibility and overall control is generally overlooked today, but speaks to a much longer history of jazz clarinet excellence, even on a technical level, than is generally recognized. His playing had an impact on several players, including Irving Fazola, Benny Goodman, and Pete Fountain.



1925-27--Johnny Dodds records with Louis Armstrong's Hot Fives.

With the recordings of Johnny Dodds, we have access to an important figure in New Orleans jazz. The Hot Fives recordings made with Louis Armstrong are among the most influential in history, not simply because Armstrong was so important, but the ensemble was as well. Dodds's violin-esque flexibility and core sound are apparent on tunes like 'Lonesome Blues'.

And while the Hot Fives recordings remain his most famous recordings, his work with King Oliver was exceptional as well, not to mention sessions he lead himself. 

1926-27--Omer Simeon's Hot Peppers Sessions

Omer Simeon was, in the words of Barney Bigard, an "unsung hero." The sessions Simeon recorded with Jelly Roll Morton displayed a clarinetist with unique polish and subtlety of phrasing ability. (For a good example, check out 'Black Bottom Stomp'). From the outset, the notion of rough, out of tune, unprofessional playing as being somehow the legacy of early jazz is thrown out the window. Simeon's playing proves that soul and technique are not opposed--and like Roppolo, he helped provide a jazz basis for the polished elements, without resorting to a European classical approach.


1928-1930--Jimmie Noone leads a band at the Apex Club in Chicago

Like Simeon and Roppolo, Jimmie Noone's playing is a testament to the unity of technique and soul. Sweet, fluent, and strong at the same time, Noone brought a new level of virtuosity to the jazz clarinet. His chalumeau technique, known for rapid triplet figurations, is rightly singled out, yet perhaps overemphasized, as his flexibility between the altissimo, clarion, and chalumeau was equally impressive. His relentless pursuit of technical mastery lead him to take lessons from Franz Schoepp, teacher of Buster Bailey and the young Benny Goodman, even as he worked as a professional.

Noone's achievement has been too often overlooked. This is partly because he has had few imitators. His playing was at such a high level that few amateurs can approach it, and all too often the New Orleans/Chicago style has been maintained by dedicated amateurs who, admirable as their intent might be, tend to preserve best what they can themselves imitate. On top of this, Noone tends to be overshadowed by the person who learned from him most: Benny Goodman, who not only also studied with Schoepp, but was influenced by Noone's playing in his native Chicago.
   

1935--Benny Goodman on the "Let's Dance" Program

When a young Benny Goodman was chosen to lead one of the three bands featured on the nationally broadcast "Let's Dance" program, it was a major moment in the history of jazz. In the battle between "commercial" sweet bands and driving "hot" bands, Benny's was the vanguard of uncompromising swing. With a trumpet section that often included driving players like Bunny Berigan, Nick Kazebier, and Pee Wee Erwin, a sax section lead by Hymie Schertzer, Gene Krupa driving from the drummer's chair, and Benny himself playing more virtuosic horn than anyone had ever heard in a jazz band, the Goodman sound was crystallized as a hard hitting, driving force.


1935-36--Goodman's Broadcasts from the Congress Hotel in Chicago

These broadcasts, and this band, were singled out decades later as Goodman's favorite. He encouraged jazz fans to give them another listen, and hear how the band played for the love of the music rather than for mere commercial gain or star status. Fortunately, many excellent recordings still exist from air checks and studio recordings of that time. Historically speaking, it was this band that drove a young Artie Shaw to abandon his "first retirement" when he heard his old rival over the radio one night, as he was driving through the Pennsylvania hills to a farmhouse he was soon to sell.

Spring, 1936-- Artie Shaw's 'Interlude in B-flat'

At the Imperial Theatre in New York, Shaw made his first of many returns to the music business with a composition of his own, entitled Interlude in B-flat for clarinet, strings and piano-less rhythm section. Complimented by George Gershwin after the performance, the piece propelled Shaw into the national discussion and still serves as an anthology of early jazz clarinet techniques, a display of liquid virtuosity, and a precursor to what was later called "Third Stream" (though Shaw himself rejected both the term and most of the music later produced under that label).


August 1936--The Goodman Quartet formed

Arguably the most important small group in the history of clarinet jazz, and among a handful of the most important small groups in the history of music. Goodman's Quartet with Teddy Wilson, Lionel Hampton, and Gene Krupa expanded jazz technically, soulfully, and socially.


1937-39-- The Camel Caravan ("Camel Hot Club") Radio Program

Benny's influence over the airwaves continued through the late 1930s. Using his popularity as a bully pulpit for jazz, Goodman put together an entertaining weekly show featuring his band, his quartet, and the songwriting abilities of Johnny Mercer. Central to the theme of the show was the shtick of Benny as a light hearted professor of jazz--but the history lessons, thin though they might seem by today's standards, were real attempts at raising awareness. A young Pete Fountain listened every week to this broadcast.

January 16, 1938--Goodman leads the First All-Jazz Concert at Carnegie Hall

The shot heard round the jazz world. With this, jazz entered the discussion of serious art music--a discussion that has not always benefited jazz musically, but in many ways has helped preserve the art when popular trends pulled a gullible public away. Once again, Benny's penchant for educating his audience was on display, as he presented not only his own band, but a retrospective which included nods to Louis Armstrong, Bix Beiderbecke, Count Basie (who also performed that night with Goodman), and members of the Ellington band. The Goodman band was not perfect on this night, but several performances, chief among them "Sing Sing Sing" were so profound as to demonstrate the range and depth of American jazz. Goodman, Harry James, and Jess Stacy's solos from that number in particular rival anything written by the highly respected classical composers whose music graced the venue.

Christmas, 1938-Artie Shaw performs 'The Blues' at Carnegie Hall

1938 was a high water mark for the rivalry between Goodman and Shaw. Artie took over the charts that year when his arrangement of a little known Cole Porter tune, 'Begin the Beguine' rocketed him to number one in the nation. From that point on, battle lines were drawn in the press and the public imagination. The year that held so many great musical moments for jazz clarinet, beginning with Goodman's triumph at Carnegie Hall, ended with Shaw's own masterful performance in the same venue.

1940-The first Gramercy 5 is formed

In the Fall of 1940, Artie Shaw called together members of his band to form a "chamber jazz" group that would feature his clarinet, plus muted trumpet, guitar, bass, drums, and, of all instruments, harpsichord--one of the most unique combinations of the era. Like Goodman's Quartet, it diverged from the New Orleans line-up popular since the days of King Oliver. Among the first singles recorded, the blues tune "Summit Ridge Drive" (named for Shaw's home address where the group had rehearsed) became a million seller.

The various Gramercy 5s that Shaw was to assemble over the next fourteen years were to feature some of his finest music--and come closest to his own unyielding artistic goals.


1944--Rompin' with Edmond Hall

By 1944, New Orleans clarinetist Edmond Hall (best know for his work with Louis Armstrong) had absorbed the influence of Goodman and Shaw, fusing it with his own inimitable warmth, to produce some of the greatest (and most neglected) swing era jazz clarinet. The recording sessions for "Rompin' in '44" provide a unique glimpse into this rare genius. There are few jazz musicians who have ever transcended their era--growing into different styles beyond their first popularity. Goodman never convincingly grew into a bebop player, nor did Louis Armstrong, for instance. Of the great jazz clarinetists, the two who stand out most in this regard are Shaw (who was able to expand his musical language indefinitely) and Hall, whose unique brand of NOLA swing remains a benchmark for soulful performance. His 1944 sessions produced many masterpieces, among them cuts of "Caravan" and "Besame Mucho" which have never been surpassed.

1947-48--The unlikely career and tragic death of Stan Hasselgård

In 1947, a young Swede named Åke "Stan" Hasselgård relocated to New York, in order to fully pursue his passion for jazz. Possessing a full sound reminiscent of the swing masters, he began immediately absorbing the more cutting-edge bebop language of the day, making him one of the few boppers who maintained a jazz-based clarinet sound, rather than approaching the horn from a classical angle. He was given the rare honor of being invited to join the Benny Goodman Sextet, and we are fortunate to have live recordings of that unique ensemble. On November 23, 1948 he was tragically killed in a car accident outside of Decatur, Illinois, but before this happened he had already pointed a way for modern jazz clarinet.

April 23, 1949--Buddy DeFranco records as a leader. 

One of the longest and most critically decorated tenures for a jazz clarinetist began in 1949, when a 26 year old Buddy DeFranco recorded a set of modern jazz tunes with an orchestra including such luminaries as Lee Konitz, Irv Kluger, and Serge Chaloff. The intelligent, virtuosic approach of DeFranco proved conclusively what the foreshortened career of Stan Hasselgård only hinted at: that the clarinet was a worthy vehicle for modern jazz of all varieties.

Despite the overwhelming evidence he commited to record, his vaste acheivement has yet to be properly assessed. Anyone who thinks the clarinet disappeared after the swing era must simply be ignorant of Buddy's work.      

1953--Buddy DeFranco: Mr. Clarinet

After "The King of Swing" and "King of the Clarinet" the name "Mr. Clarinet" sounds both bold and humble, simultaneously. The boldness is justified, as this, perhaps more than any recordings before it, threw down the bebop gauntlet. The quartet album is crammed with classic takes--including such essential tracks as "Buddy's Blues", "Ferdinando", and "It Could Happen to You", with Buddy joined by Art Blakey, Milt Hinton, and Kenny Drew.

1953 - Tony Scott: The Brunswick Sessions

One of the most unique and wide ranging jazz clarinetists in history, Tony Scott, made his debut recordings as a Quartet leader with his Brunswick sessions. Released under various titles, these sessions gave a new shape to modern jazz clarinet - lyrical, probing, insistent and often extreme in register and volume, Scott might be compared to Miles Davis if Buddy DeFranco was Dizzy Gillespie. Like DeFranco, his existence and long catalog of masterful albums contradicts the narrative that clarinet was no longer represented in jazz after the Swing Era.   


1954--The Final Gramercy 5 sessions

Among the very finest jazz clarinet recordings ever made, these last recordings of the enigmatic Artie Shaw were recorded after weeks of meticulous, paid rehearsal--highly unusual for that era. It seems Shaw deliberately recorded his "whole book" before saying goodbye to the world of creative music making. The four CDs worth of material left to us from those sessions serve as both a retrospective and precursor to much of what followed in modern jazz. 

When these were released in the 1990s, Shaw gave his opinion on the history of jazz since the final Gramercy 5, an opinion that perhaps sheds considerable light on jazz clarinet, and why it might have struggled since then:

"Isn't it interesting--here we are, almost 40 years later, and the records still hold up. [...] Not a lot has happened in jazz since 1954, except that it got more esoteric and hate-filled. I don't know what's going on in the music now. Music is not a political instrument; if you want to do that, you write the 'Horst Wessel Song' or the 'Star Spangled Banner', neither of which has very much to do with music. Look at the Russians with their painting--when it becomes 'socialist realism', come on, you're dealing with caricature." 

For those who can read between the lines, this is a highly compact and bracing indictment of much of the more ideologically driven jazz since 1954. For the jazz clarinetist, it's worth thinking through in particular, as esoteric and angry "hate-filled" music seem even less congruent with a deep understanding of our instrument than others.



1959--Pete Fountain's Tetralogy

In 1959, Pete Fountain came to his famous realization that "Champagne and Bourbon don't mix", decided that Hollywood just wasn't for him, and packed his family for the return trip to New Orleans. But before he left, he cut two very important albums. The first, Pete Fountain's New Orleans, seamlessly blended Pete's New Orleans style clarinet with a cool, West Coast rhythm section. It went on to become one of Fountain's best selling records, and is still available for download over sixty years later. The second, equally impressive despite having sadly slipped into obscurity, is Pete's first collaboration with the large ensemble scoring of Charles 'Bud' Dant, entitled The Blues.

After arriving in New Orleans, Pete quickly recorded two others--Live at the Bateau Lounge and Pete Fountain Day. Both of these are out of print, which is a major problem for clarinetists hoping to get a full picture of Fountain's brilliance as a jazz musician. These four remarkable albums recorded in five months are referred to here as Pete Fountain's Tetralogy.

 

Without question, Pete Fountain was the most successful jazz clarinetist with the general public since the days of Benny Goodman and Artie Shaw. That he didn't play bebop, and that his commercial success has sometimes been fueled by Nashville arrangements and easy listening albums, has often lead to his neglect by establishment critics. Yet few of his detractors have noticed two very important things: first, that the two biggest criticisms of Pete Fountain's style (that he is either too traditional or not traditional enough) are contradictory, and second, that his fusion of traditional New Orleans jazz with West Coast cool jazz and Nashville were as brilliant as Edmond Hall's fusion of NOLA and 'hot' swing.

 

The Tetralogy in particular forms a body of impressive work that ought to be required listening for all jazz clarinetists. 

 

Pete Fountain's massive recorded output over the next several decades accomplished more than stylistic fusion: he kept alive the tradition of jazz clarinet sound, steeped in both New Orleans tradition (from Irving Fazola's influence) and swing (from Benny Goodman). That the public has preferred this beautiful style of playing is worth noting and carrying forward.  

 

 

1959-61--Bill Smith's Trilogy with Dave Brubeck

In one of the rare blessed moments for a jazz clarinetist since 1954, Bill Smith managed to get three albums of his own compositions recorded with a top modern jazz ensemble: the Dave Brubeck Quartet. The resulting records (The Riddle, Brubeck a la Mode, and Near-Myth) presented some of the most interesting and satisfying jazz clarinet of any era.

 

***

[This is a revision of the original timeline published back in 2013]

[Part 2 of this Timeline will consider the developments in the world of Jazz Clarinet since 1961] 

CD Box Review: Artie Shaw and His Orchestra * King of the Clarinet * Live 1938-39 * Hindsight Records (HBCD-502) 1993

 

Artie Shaw - clarinet

Les Robinson, Hank Freeman - alto sax

Tony Pastor, Ronnie Perry, Georgie Auld - tenor sax

Johnny Best, Bernie Previn, Chuck Peterson, Harry Geller - trumpets

George Arus, Russell Brown, Harry Rodgers, Les Jenkins - trombones

Les Burness, Bob Kitsis - piano

Al Avola, Dave Barbour - guitar

Sid Weiss - bass

Cliff Leeman, George Wettling, Buddy Rich - drums

Helen Forrest, Tony Pastor - vocals

After more than a decade of writing this blog, I'm shocked to find I haven't reviewed this CD box. Maybe I took for granted that it was inevitable, or thought it would be too difficult to find enough superlatives, or maybe I thought I'd already done it. However I've managed to maintain this level of neglect, it's mind boggling. 

Of all the great jazz clarinetists, Artie Shaw resonates more personally with me than any other. We share a geographical connection with roots in New York, Connecticut, and Cleveland; an intellectual similarity that makes the world of literature and writing as enticing as music; a fundamental need to wrestle with the meaning of existence; and a musical preference, above all, for what might be termed lyric melody of meaning. That this box might contain what I consider his most important and beautiful recordings may have been why I've neglected to review it. The fact is, despite what one might think, I've tried to stay away from drawing too much attention to his music - not out of some Bloomian "Anxiety of Influence", but simply because I'm never sure I can do it justice. 

You see, I've given historical "lecture concerts" in nightclubs and libraries highlighting the accomplishments of many of the great clarinetists of jazz history. Sidney Bechet, Jimmie Noone, Benny Goodman, Pete Fountain, Hubert Rostaing, George Lewis, and Acker Bilk all come to mind - I've prepared lectures on their life's work and performed tunes in context for them. But never for Artie. It's probably because he's just too close to me - I almost don't know where to start. It's too personal. I can honestly say I've been influenced by just about everyone I've listened to by this point, but Artie is really the bedrock of my style. Here are a couple of quick stories demonstrating how this influence reveals itself: 

Once, while playing at a jam session at a local tavern, I remember an older gentlemen coming up to me between sets, with a puzzled look on his face. 

"It's been bothering me all evening...who you remind me of..." he said, with that odd familiarity with which perfect strangers approach jazz musicians after a set. "Then it came to me! Your playing reminds me of Gustav Mahler!" And he pointed at me knowingly, shaking his finger with a sly smile, as though he'd caught me throwing Mahler excerpts into my solos.  

Another time, while recording my live album at the Bop Stop in Cleveland, also between sets, a very astute trumpet player in the audience commented that he felt my performance of "Go Down, Moses" was a seamless fusion of klezmer and blues. The truth is that neither the similarity to Mahler, nor the fusion was conscious - but they both spoke of the foundational influence of Artie Shaw on my playing. His musical thoughts have worked their way into my language, because they've always been the basis for my musical speech, as it were. 

So maybe this explains why I've taken so long to review these recordings. I think this box might represent the finest documents of Artie Shaw's playing and musical mind. And because of that, for me at least, they might be the greatest performances of what is known as the Swing Era, by any band. They document an important period for Shaw - from just before "Begin the Beguine" catapulted him to nationally recognized fame (and fortune), to his second (but thankfully not final) retirement. These recordings follow him from what he described as the "rat trap" that was the Blue Room at New York City's Lincoln Hotel in the Fall of 1938, through his stay at the Summer Terrace of Ritz Carlton in Boston during the Summer of 1939, to the glamour of the Cafe Rouge at the Hotel Pennsylvania in New York, where Shaw snapped at last and, in an effort to preserve his sanity and health, abruptly walked off the stage in the middle of a performance, never to return with this group again. It seemed a career ending move at the time. Fortunately for the rest of us, it wasn't, but even if it had been we'd have no cause to complain, as Shaw and this band left us some of the finest music of jazz history. This box is even more important than the great studio recordings made by the Artie Shaw Orchestra at the time, because it's live.     

With very rare exception, I always prefer live recordings, even with all their flaws. Whether we're talking about Benny Goodman's Madhattan Room Broadcasts, Duke Ellington's All Star Road Band, or classical recordings like Gennady Rozhdestvensky's live cycle of the Vaughan Williams symphonies, there is an immediacy and an interactive excitement that cannot be replicated without an audience. As a performer, both in the classical and jazz realms, I can attest to being more creative and alive on stage than in any rehearsal or studio session. Audiences draw things out of performers that can't be imitated. These recordings are no exception - they are almost all more interesting and exciting than their studio counterparts. Shaw himself was interviewed and served as a consultant for this set, and the booklet provides almost track by track observations from the great clarinetist. 

Unlike Benny Goodman's Madhattan Room Broadcasts, which were re-released in a six CD box in the 1990s, the tracks from these three discs are not released in strict chronological order, but chosen from the three broadcast locations in New York and Boston, to create three re-imagined "sets." Pete Kline seems to have made the choices for these sets (he's credited as the Box Set producer and compiler). He did an excellent job - the listener might be forgiven for thinking these were three complete performances from three evenings. It also speaks the amazing consistency of Shaw's band over the course of more than a year. The performances from Boston aren't notably different from the ones in New York, either before or after the groups Cinderella success. If you'd told me they were all from the same location, from the same weekend, I'd believe you. 

Most of the arrangements for these charts were done by Artie Shaw, Jerry Gray, and the guitarist for the band Al Avola. They represent the epitome of Shaw's style - lyrical melody, clear dialogue and counterpoint between the sections - nothing pedantic muddying up matters; they're a study of beauty without sentimentality. And slotted throughout the arrangements, some of the finest jazz soloing ever captured. 

Leading off with "Rose Room" from the Ritz-Carlton on August 19, 1939, we hear Artie's lyrical virtuosity at work. I don't know if anyone possessed a melodic gift to the degree he did at this point in his career. In many ways he reminds me of a jazz version of Tchaikovsky. His rhythmic variety alone during his solos, combined with an ability to craft the most intricate melodic ideas all within the space of a chorus (or at times half a chorus) remains, for me, unmatched. When jazz embraced bebop language, it lost some of this lyricism, in my opinion. I've always felt it would be worthwhile to use Artie's lyricism as a starting point, and develop jazz in a different direction - less modernist, more romantic. It's actually what I try to do myself as a player. Anyhow, we hear Artie at zenith here. his solos on "Rose Room", "Carioca", "Yesterdays", "Sweet Adeline", "One Foot in the Groove", "Man from Mars", "Stardust", "Out of Nowhere", "St Louis Blues", "It Had to be You", "I Can't Give You Anything But Love", "I Cover the Waterfront"  and more are classics.  For any musician they are a clinic of creativity, beauty, and invention. I cannot wrap my mind around the fact that he wasn't just soloing here, but leading the band as well - and the band is in incredible form - relaxed, warm, swinging - a type of perfection rarely accomplished by any ensemble of any musical genre.

(For those wanting a sample, the recording of "The Carioca" here cannot be surpassed. From a teenage Buddy Rich chirping in the background, to Artie's endless variations - including his stellar choruses over the band at the end, it's a must for any jazz collection).

There is plenty of great soloing by other members of the band in this set, but the star is Shaw. Helen Forrest, my favorite of the girl singers back then, is in top form on these recordings too. Her intelligent, heart rending versions of "Comes Love", "Don't Worry 'Bout Me", and "Two Sleepy People" in particular remain my favorite versions of these tunes by a singer. Tony Pastor, though he was admittedly a bit of a novelty singer in addition to being a solid tenor sax, is in good form here too - adding humor, and even a little pathos to the fine arrangements he sang over. 

When Artie left the bandstand in November of 1939, leaving this band and seemingly his career as a musician behind, it was widely believed that he did it out disgust for the music business and its hassles, along with the wildness of the teenage fans who annoyed him with their antics. But listening to these recordings, once again, this morning, I can't help but wonder if he psychologically needed a break from the intense creating he was doing on a nightly basis. I'm not sure many musicians have sustained such lyrical invention and technical brilliance over the course of a twelve month span as we have documented here. And to do it while leading one of the finest ensembles in the world - it's beyond what I can fathom.

As I wrote above, if he had never returned to music, we would have no reason to be anything but grateful. Fortunately for us, he added more brilliant chapters to his career and to jazz history. As great as those were, however, none surpassed the perfection he achieved in the year spanning from November 1938 to November 1939.               

***

Epilogue: I bought this box, of all places, at Tower Records in New Orleans in 1999. I wasn't aware of its existence until seeing it there, and immediately appreciated the irony of going all the way to New Orleans just to end up buying Artie Shaw discs. It was on the return to Indiana (where I lived as a grad student) that the importance of the purchase became apparent. Driving all through the night from New Orleans to Bloomington, through Louisiana, Mississippi, Tennessee, and Kentucky, my wife and I played these discs over and over. They were a match for the heartland landscape at night, perfectly engaging, managing  to keep me awake and in a type of elated awe for hundreds of miles. I'll never forget the experience. My admiration for these recordings hasn't flagged in the twenty four years since. 

100 Jazz Tunes Everyone Should Hear (#30) Artie Shaw - My Funny Valentine

#30 - Artie Shaw - My Funny Valentine

Hey, it's February 14th, so why not? This version also happens to be one of the great, final recording of Artie Shaw and his Gramercy 5

[ This is not a comprehensive list, nor is it representative of the "most important" or "best." Instead, following Duke Ellington's adage that the greatest music and musicians are "beyond category", I'm starting 2020 by sharing 100 jazz tunes I feel everyone should have the chance to hear--really just tunes and performances that I love. ]

100 Jazz Tunes Everyone Should Hear (#4) Artie Shaw Live in 1939

#4 - Artie Shaw * 'The Carioca' * Live in 1939


The unity of Artie Shaw's whole concept--from his expressive development of the altissimo register of the clarinet, to the clear band arrangements, slotting the instruments perfectly and giving space for his counterpoint--is on display from this 1939 air check. Add to that an all star crew that included a young Buddy Rich drumming and chirping the band on, and you've got one of the jazz tunes everyone should hear...

[ This is not a comprehensive list, nor is it representative of the "most important" or "best." Instead, following Duke Ellington's adage that the greatest music and musicians are "beyond category", I'm starting 2020 by sharing 100 jazz tunes I feel everyone should have the chance to hear--really just tunes and performances that I love. ]

CD Review: The Artistry of Artie Shaw * Hep Records CD 78 * 2004

I can't say how many times I ignored this CD when seeing it in the rack at Half Price Books, walking distance from my house in Cleveland. The cover is bland: it just looked like another budget priced compilation of dubious transfer quality. For some reason though, this afternoon it finally occurred to me not to judge this disc by its cover, and I checked the titles. I was shocked to find the entirety of Modern Music for Clarinet -- the (mostly) classical album Shaw had recorded for Columbia in March of 1949. Prior to this, I'd only heard the rare LP version, which can be very difficult and expensive to obtain.

Modern Music for Clarinet is an interesting album in many ways. It gives us a rare glimpse into Artie's classical aspirations, and what sort of repertoire interested him. Poulenc, Ravel, Gould, Kabalevsky, Milhaud, Shostakovich, Shulman, Gershwin, Porter, and Debussy all make their appearances. But even the most devoted of Shaw fans, if they've got a working knowledge of this repertoire, can't help but admit Shaw sounds a little out of his element on the record. His phrasing can be pretty stiff and tentative, his intonation rougher than usual in spots, and he even has a difficult time finding the tonal nuance to match the musical content of several pieces. This is unlike the Shaw we all know from jazz recordings, where he had layer upon layer of timbral ideas, and it really speaks to the difference between the two disciplines of jazz and classical playing. A helpful contrast is Reginald Kell's "Quiet Music" of light contemporary classics, which were recorded around the same time. Unlike Shaw, Kell is in his comfort zone, and phrases boldly, with surety of style. Another comparison, from decades later, can be heard when Columbia recycled the arrangement of Ravel's Piece En Forme de Habanera for a 1986 album featuring a young Branford Marsalis on soprano saxophone. That album--Romances for Saxophone -- remains one of my favorite of its kind, and on it Marsalis is clearly more at ease with Ravel's lines and style.  

Having said that, one of the most interesting tracks on the album, for me, is a chamber orchestra version of Gershwin's "The Man I Love." Artie's solo here seems a bit self consciously angular and modern, perhaps an attempt to match the modernist theme of the album overall, but I find it intriguing and compelling -- a rare instance of Shaw reaching for something outside of his usual romantic lyricism on a recording. For those of us intrigued with Shaw's musical mind, these pieces, and moments, are invaluable.  

The rest of the CD (both before and after the numbers from Modern Music for Clarinet) is  dedicated some of the more rare recordings by Shaw's last Gramercy 5s, though I'm pretty sure all of these have also been released on Jasmine's box set of the complete Gramercy 5 recordings. 

The transfers themselves, done by John R.T. Davies, Hans Eekhoff, and Bill O'Donnell are very crisp, with little if any added reverb or extraneous sound. Unfortunately, they tend to sound a little shrill, too, and Shaw's clarinet distorts at times in ways that my old LP of Modern Music for Clarinet doesn't. Audiophiles and collectors will probably want to hunt down one of those rare LPs, but for those who have never heard Artie's classical musings before, this CD fills a real, interesting gap. This is highly recommended for anyone seeking to understand the breadth of Shaw's musical interests.

     

Nick Fatool (January 2, 1915-September 26, 2000)

The history of jazz clarinet is in many ways linked to the history of jazz drumming. When we think of Benny Goodman, we almost automatically think of Gene Krupa, Artie Shaw is linked with Buddy Rich, and Jack Sperling comes to mind on so many of Pete Fountain's classic albums. Beyond that, the interaction between Buddy DeFranco and Art Blakey on 'Mr. Clarinet', and Bill Smith with the likes of Shelly Manne and Joe Morello are enjoyable and instructive to anyone who is a fan of great ensemble playing. Really, because of the dynamic range of a drumset, the choice of drummer is essential for a clarinetist, and I was even warned as a young player to choose wisely once I became a band leader.

The drummer in my current band, Bill Fuller, is of a drumming lineage that stretches back through his father to the days of early jazz in Cleveland. His dad even gigged in University Circle with a teenage Artie Shaw when that clarinet master was learning his trade here. The first gig I played with Bill, a few years back, he mentioned to me on a set break that, while he'd idolized Joe Morello as a teenager, he'd soon grown to consider Nick Fatool an ideal jazz drummer. "The other players in the band play for the audience, but the drummer should play for the band: he should be the ultimate facilitator," was how Bill summed it up that night, and he felt Nick Fatool was the best example of that approach.

While Fatool is less well known to the general population than Krupa or Rich, it's significant that some of the very best and most important jazz clarinet recordings were made with him backing the band. Artie Shaw's first classic Gramercy 5 recordings were made with Fatool on the skins, and to see him in action, you can check out the classic film Second Chorus. Later in his career, he backed up Pete Fountain on several classic albums, so his contribution to the history of jazz clarinet recordings actually spanned a couple of different generations.

I also encourage folks to check out "Special Delivery Stomp" to hear this understated drum master's brush work.

Happy 102nd birthday, Nick Fatool!

Artie Shaw's Enduro Reed and the Classic 1940 "Stardust" Solo

Artie Shaw's chorus on "Star Dust" in 1940 is one of those rare solos people list among the most important ever recorded. His tone, his choice of notes, and his virtuosity all seemed to come together in one lyrical moment, rarely matched by other musicians. Buddy DeFranco called it the greatest jazz solo on record, and countless others have transcribed and studied it.

Year later, Shaw revealed he'd used a plastic reed for the recording session--an Enduro reed designed by the great mouthpiece maker, saxophonist, and Shaw Clarinet Method collaborator, Arnold Brilhart.

Enduro reeds were one of the first commercially viable attempts at a synthetic reed, and enjoyed a short heyday during the second world war, when French cane was difficult to obtain. Developed by Brilhart, they were a precursor to today's Fibracell, Legere, and Forestone reeds (among others).

According to New York based clarinetist, Dan Levinson, who discussed it with Shaw before his death, Artie only played on one Enduro reed, ever. And at the time of his death, there was only one Enduro among his possessions, which subsequently passed into the hands of Mr. Levinson.

It's therefore almost certain that the reed used in one of the finest jazz recordings ever made still exists. Mr. Levinson has kindly permitted me to reproduce a photo of Artie Shaw's #4 Enduro reed, likley the very reed played in that iconic recording. Most cane reeds are discarded as soon as they blow out or crack, so just about every reed ever used in classic records are long gone. Coleman Hawkin's "Body and Soul" reed is certainly long lost, as is the reed from Benny Goodman's Carnegie Hall concert, or John Coltrane's "A Love Supreme." But by an interesting quirk of history, that Artie decided to use an Enduro that day, we still have the "Stardust" reed. Amazing.

The Legendary Stardust Reed? Artie Shaw's Enduro
(photo: Dan Levinson/Dan Levinson Collection)

   

Artie Shaw's Smithsonian Interview

Public Service Announcement:

There's a great interview with Artie Shaw available on the Smithsonian Jazz site here.

Shaw's thoughts are expressed in his trademark dogmatic edginess, discussing jazz history and his place in it. Some quotes to whet your appetite:


No classical player worth his salt, that I know of, can play jazz.

I’m the only world-class clarinet player who started on saxophone.

What do we mean by the best? It’s not a pole vault, where you can measure. Who’s better? I don’t know who’s better. Who do you like better? And what causes your likes and prejudices? Why do some people like Coltrane and others like, like I do, Lester? I think Lester was the prototypical

tenor player. I don’t think anybody’s gone past him. I think he invented the tenor, he and
Coleman [Hawkins]. Just as Benny and I invented the clarinet, the jazz clarinet. I don’t
care who they talk about that came ahead of that. It’s not significant. There it is.  

Music isn’t . . . It’s not rote. You don’t plan it out. What you think about is psychology.

Get the audience’s nerves jangling, and then smooth it out. It’s psychology through the
medium of notes.

[Tip of the hat to one of The Jazz Clarinet's readers, Frank Jellison, for letting me know about this].

The Shekomeko Shuffle: In Search of Artie Shaw

Leading off his series In Search of Shakespeare, Michael Wood asked:

"[Why] go in search of Shakespeare? Can the life of a writer ever be as interesting or exciting as a conqueror, an inventor, or an explorer, a Napoleon, a Columbus, an Alexander the Great? Well yes it can. More so, because the writers and the poets are the explorers of the human heart, and long after the conquerors are forgotten, their legacy will be the most valuable to us as human beings."

If poets are the explorers of the human heart, perhaps musicians are the explorers of the soul--that region touching the eternal; the essential aspect of human beings so difficult to describe or analyze. And just as the geography of great writers warrants our attention, so too those of musicians--especially jazz musicians, who more than any others seem to carry their lives with them wherever they go, singing them through their horns.

America isn't the type of nation that likes to honor (or perhaps even remember) its artists, especially those outside the mainstream, who might serve little immediate commercial or political purpose. Try naming the historical markers for great poets or musicians, and you might find the list to be short. In my own lifetime, I can remember seeing only three monuments to writers: A statue of Henry Wadsworth Longfellow in Portland, Maine; another of James Fenimore Cooper in Cooperstown, NY; and a statue of Hart Crane (since removed or relocated) in Cleveland. I'm sure there are others, but a casual trip through the UK will show more constant markers denoting important artists. In the history of jazz, only New Orleans seems to fully acknowledge importance of place, and has done an admirable job maintaining the roots of jazz history.

With this in mind, I set out this past week to visit one of  the most important landscapes outside of New Orleans for a jazz clarinetist: the site of Artie Shaw's farm near Pine Plains, NY, in the bucolic Hudson Valley Region.

Shaw remains for me among the most important of all jazz clarinetists, for several reasons. First, if you poll musicians you'll find that just about every type of clarinetist has endorsed him. In a world of rivalry, jealousy, and bravado, his playing remains close to universally admired.

New Orleans native and Ellington alumnus Barney Bigard called Shaw the greatest of all jazz musicians.

Buddy DeFranco, the first great bop clarinetist, called Shaw's 'Stardust' solo the finest ever played.

Don Byron, a representative of the avant garde in current jazz clarinet, has said "I remember the clarity of [Shaw's] tone, a harder, edgier, and more modern tone than Benny Goodman's. He could play stuff that made harmonic sense way up high, and where Goodman's playing seemed both triadic and ornamental, Shaw's note choices seemed to foreshadow the discipline that would become bebop."

Even the classical world has paid homage to Shaw's clarinetistry. Franklin Cohen of the Cleveland Orchestra said "Shaw is the greatest player I ever heard. It's hard to play the way he plays. It's not an overblown orchestral style. He makes so many incredible shadings."

This is nothing short of remarkable. There are few musicians who can claim, on any instrument, such a list of admirers.

Second, on a personal level, Shaw's geography has overlapped my own. Both of us grew up in New York and Southern Connecticut as kids. Both of us lived in Cleveland, and both of us had a deep attachment to the mystic beauty of the Hudson Valley region of New York State.

It was in the Hudson Valley that Artie Shaw made his most significant strides as a musician, expanding his musical style from swing to modern jazz. While living at Picardy Farm, four miles south of Pine Plains, New York, he wrote his autobiography and quietly deepened his playing, composing tunes reflective of the landscape. The first of these, entitled "The Shekomeko Shuffle" was a tongue-in-cheek tone poem describing the frustrations of having to commute from the farm, where he had felt such peace, to New York City. The tune begins and ends with a bitter quote from Stravinsky's Petrushka--but eschewing existential whining, Shaw launches into an argument that feels like an upbeat drive down the Taconic Parkway. Along the way, Shaw demonstrates how he was assimilating and transforming modern jazz influences--an expansion of jazz clarinet vocabulary that would ultimately result in the massive Last Recordings of 1953.

Shekomeko was very close to Shaw's farm--just over a few hills, in fact. Originally a Mohican village for converts of the Moravian missionaries, it was also the likely place where the fictional Natty Bumppo would have met Chingachgook in James Fenimore Cooper's Leather-Stocking tales.




The Jazz Clarinet goes to Shekomeko

Driving over the hills to the site of Shaw's old farm, I listened to tunes like "Lyric", which Shaw said was inspired by Robert Henri's quote about another painter; that he painted "like a man going over a hill, whistling." Nowhere has this music seemed more at home than these hills.




Landscape near the site of the Shaw Farm

Before this trip, I'd contacted the Library at Pine Plains, inquiring as to whether or not anyone still knew where Shaw lived, exactly, as the properties have changed hands and boundaries several times since he sold his acreage. As of this writing, I haven't gotten a reply--but I did manage to find out that his farm was located "four miles south of Pine Plains on route 82."

When I arrived at the spot along Route 82, there were a few options for potential homes. Not knowing exactly which might have been Artie's, I did the next best thing: stood alongside Route 82, by a barn that might have belonged to Artie Shaw, and played the Shekomeko Shuffle. Unless anyone can prove otherwise, I now lay claim to being the first jazz clarinetist since Shaw himself to play 'The Shekomeko Shuffle' along Route 82.




ES along Rt. 82

In one of my earliest posts on this blog, I mentioned the importance of place regarding the final Gramercy 5 recordings:

The music was intended by Shaw to sound "clear, pellucid" which he likened to the waters of a mountain lake, so pristine that you can see to the bottom. The metaphor is apt, and a worthy goal for jazz musicians: it implies a transparent honesty. Many such lakes exist up where Shaw had lived on a farm for much of the early '50s near Shekomeko, NY--a place he said he wished he could have remained.

"Picardy Farm..." he would write nearly thirty years later. "Good God, the emotions those two words evoke. The place where for the first time in my life I had found a real home, a warm sense of security, and a feeling of calm and peace of mind."

That sense of pristine beauty, clarity, and peace of mind is never far away in these recordings, and has probably never been equaled in jazz history.

Near the old Shaw farm is Taghkanic State Park, where one might experience one of those pellucid lakes. To see the morning mists turn into clouds in the sunrise at such a place, in a landscape that seems to eschew the banalities of commercialism and wrangling--somehow remaining pristine throughout it all--is to come into contact with some of the essential inspiration for Shaw's greatest music. It is a landscape that is unique for the variety of artists it has inspired: from James Fenimore Cooper's novels, to the paintings of the Hudson River school, to Artie Shaw, to Sonny Rollins.




Morning Mist over Lake Taghkanic

If I'd never gone to New Orleans, I might never have understood, on a deeper level, the roots of jazz--especially the playing of Sidney Bechet and the earliest jazz clarinetists. Likewise, going in search of Artie Shaw's farm; hearing and playing this music in this landscape, has brought me a deeper appreciation of both.

David Stone Martin Album Covers

Most of us who participate in jazz, either as musicians or as listeners, owe in some way a debt of gratitude to Norman Granz, the impresario who is perhaps best remembered for spear-heading the Jazz at the Philharmonic series and founding five important record labels: Clef, Norgran, Down Home, Pablo, and Verve. Albums like Bird with Strings, Bird & Diz, the Ella Fitzgerald Songbook series, Lady Sings the Blues, and a vast slew of other classics might never have reached the public without him.

Granz was not only remarkably attuned to musical values, but understood the importance of matching great music to great contemporary art. His hiring of David Stone Martin, an artist with a rare understanding of jazz, was a stroke of brilliance. Stone Martin's album covers are deservedly revered in their own right, and some of his finest works depicted the clarinet and jazz clarinetists.  

In 1954, Granz convinced a reluctant Artie Shaw to release four albums worth of his last Gramercy 5 sessions on the Clef label. The albums are extremely rare these days: they went almost entirely unnoticed and fell immediately out of print, with rights reverting back to Shaw, who didn't share them with the world again for several decades. Unfortunately, the Clef releases didn't present Shaw's work particularly well sonically--choosing to emphasize Shaw the soloist, the audio mix brings his clarinet so far to the foreground that the rest of the band sounds muddied and less relevant: mere accompaniment. This fault was corrected on Shaw's subsequent releases of the material, but if the final Gramercy 5 had any chance of success, conceptually, in the 1950s, the Clef versions did little to help. Moreover, Granz, whose heart was certainly in the right place, nevertheless shot the project in the foot with his liner notes, defensively suggesting that Artie was a real jazz musician (as though that needed proof), and that he didn't lose sight of the melody in the recordings (as though that mattered). The sum total of the Clef recordings, between the vinyl and the back covers, amounted to naught but stoked disappointment for Shaw, leaving only one overwhelming saving grace: the covers by David Stone Martin, which happen to be some of the greatest artworks inspired by jazz clarinet.

These album covers are now extremely rare. Unlike the more famous bop covers for Charlie Parker and Dizzy Gillespie, which have been issued and reissued regularly, the Shaw Gramercy 5 covers immediately fell into obscurity. I have three of the covers, along with my three favorite Stone Martin Buddy DeFranco covers, on the wall of my studio (the bottom three in the pictures below).





 

David Stone Martin Jazz Clarinet Covers: (clockwise from top left) Buddy DeFranco and Oscar Peterson play Gershwin, The Music of Buddy DeFranco, Buddy DeFranco: Closed Session, Artie Shaw Gramercy Five #4, Artie Shaw Gramercy Five #3, Artie Shaw Gramercy Five #1

 

These album covers are my favorite depictions of the clarinet, and of the music, that I've ever run across. David Stone Martin not only understood the construction of the clarinet, but something of the feel of playing it. His varying abstractions of the keys and the joint sizes (particularly on The Music of Buddy DeFranco) speaks of a mind actively engaged in what it is to play clarinet. The differences between his depictions of DeFranco and Shaw are as telling as the musicians' styles: the modernist profile of DeFranco, with concentrated, abstractedly gnarled fingers (as though he was working out a particularly vexing problem); the reflective, meditative Shaw bowing his head and listening.

The pictures tell stories, too: how many jazz clarinetists will recognize the scene of a bed, with an open case--practicing in the bedroom or a hotel room before a gig? Then there is the cover of DeFranco's Closed Session: Buddy stares at the "fine instruments", his head turned away from the tenor sax (rejecting the double?), casually looking while his own horn is safely tucked under his shoulder, the case melding into his torso. Perhaps the masterpiece of them all is the final Gramercy 5 release, with the stabbed heart, like a guitar, the clarinet, and the profile of the beautiful woman--is she dancing to the music or is she leaving him? The poignancy of the abstraction works like a triad, but one so subtle we can't tell whether it's major or minor--in reality it's a graceful, extended chord.

Great album art is rare. Some labels have opted for a sensible and safer approach than Norman Granz's labels did: black and white photos of the musicians themselves is usually a smart way to go, and labels like Blue Note have produced some of the most iconic jazz photos utilizing that method. Rolling the dice on contemporary art styles and graphic design is considerably more dangerous. Having said this, we can be grateful for the many risks Granz took, and for the masterful work of David Stone Martin.

For jazz clarinetists, the work is inspiring: these covers are a testament to the complexity, beauty, and value of the music we have dedicated so much of our lives to.   



CD Review: Artie Shaw and His Orchestra * Hollywood Palladium * 1941

It's been said of Lord Byron's Don Juan, "No matter where you are in it, you've already read the best part." Most jazz careers read similarly, and because of this, Artie Shaw's is an anomaly--no matter where you jump into his discography, so long as you're not listening to the very last recording sessions, there's usually something even better ahead. This is far more rare than it might initially seem. The idea of a constantly developing and evolving jazz artist is really more myth than fact. Louis Armstrong and Sidney Bechet, for instance, never developed beyond styles that were fully formed by the 1920s, and Benny Goodman, when he tried, learned very quickly that to stray from his late-30s bread and butter was a bad idea. The list of artists who resist the trend of solidifying one basic style and re-asserting it in various guises is exceedingly short, and debatable.

Shaw is one who stands out. Up until 1954 he seemed to actually embody the myth of the continuously developing jazz musician. It's difficult to say which of his ensembles were the finest. For its day, the 1939 band might have been the best. Then again, the 1949 band, while largely ignored by fans and critics alike, can be argued for, in a musical sense. After the orchestras, there are the chamber groups, especially the last Gramercy 5. Few would assert, as most readily do regarding Goodman's 1937 band, that Shaw ever had a single ensemble or era that served as the epitome of his art. Yet even with all of this in mind, the orchestra of 1940, assembled by Shaw after his self-imposed Mexican exile, stands out in critical and popular memory. This is the group which recorded "Frenesi"--a tune Artie had heard in cantinas south of the border--and "Stardust", giving the latter a solo so impressive that this group has been known as the "Stardust Band" ever since.

The subject of this review features this band, as reproduced on a CD issued in 1997 by HEP records, also available as a download, entitled: Artie Shaw and His Orchestra: Hollywood Palladium 1941. The title is a bit misleading, suggesting a single gig or series of gigs at the Palladium. As the liner notes detail, though, most of the dates represented on the disc are from 1940, and were broadcast from NBC's Hollywood studio. This technicality doesn't really matter--the content is exceptional, and give us some of the best live renditions currently available for tunes like "Frenesi." Three live performances of it are here, all of them well performed by an expanded orchestra (including strings), with contrasting improvised solos by Shaw.

An abbreviated version of his "Concerto for Clarinet" is also presented, from an August 1940 broadcast. This version is particularly interesting for the comparison it suggests between the Concerto and Shaw's December 1938 performance of "The Blues" with Paul Whiteman at Carnegie Hall. In this live performance, as in the Whiteman concert performance, the klezmer roots of the piece are highlighted, setting it apart from both the movie and studio versions recorded months later. We'll never know how wide the stylistic scope of the Concerto's improvised sections--Shaw used it as a closing number for a tremendous number of gigs that went unrecorded. But this early version suggests the improvised sections had considerable flexibility and stylistic diversity--making the propensity of contemporary classical players to rigidly stick to the studio solo transcription all the more disappointing (along with the Mickey Mouse swing, prim conservatory tone, and pinched altissimo we're usually tortured with during such performances).

This disc is loaded with great and rare performances. Shaw's arrangement of "Sweet Sue (Just You)", his original composition "Prelude in C Sharp", and a live version of "Blues in the Night" featuring the vocal and trumpet of Oran 'Hot Lips' Page are highlights. Others are Shaw's brilliant solo on "Nobody Knows the Trouble I've Seen" and an extended chorus on a live version of "Dr. Livingstone, I Presume" while restating, almost identically, the klezmer-tinged coda from the studio version.

The audio quality is often less than perfect--it can give a "bubble" sound similar to that of old tape, and the fuzz is noticeable in spots. But the chance to hear the Shaw band in top form, with real gig situations impacting the performance, is great. One example: members of the crowd were rowdy enough to knock 'Lips' Page off the lyric to Blues in the Night at the Palladium gig on January 22, 1941. It's priceless to hear him sing:

Now, the rain is falling,
Hear the train are calling hoo-wee!
(my mama done told me)

....he-yeeeah der roomin' foolin'
....haaaallin' dullin' fooling hoo-wee!
(my mama done told me)

The band and Page soldier on perfectly, and the crowd eats it up.

As with so many others, Shaw was to disband this group almost as quickly as he'd assembled it; this time to enlist in the U.S. Navy, where he would serve in the South Pacific during World War II. Like the live recordings of the 1939 band from the Cafe Rouge, then, this disc is a document of a particular high point in Shaw's career as an orchestra leader, with some significant historical recordings that help us better understand his musical mind.

Three Good Reeds.

CD Review: Artie Shaw & His Gramercy 5 * The Complete Commercially Released Recordings * Jasmine Records * 2008

In September of 1940, Artie Shaw decided it was time to go the way of other bandleaders by adding a "band within a band" to his shows. Tommy Dorsey had done this as early as 1935 with his impishly named "Clambake Seven", as had Bob Crosby with his "Bobcats"--the group most responsible for presenting Irving Fazola to the world beyond New Orleans. These bands were designed to preserve and promote the older style of New Orleans polyphonic improvisation. Throughout the Swing Era different approaches to ensemble jazz had developed, most notably written arrangements and a different type of aural tradition known as "head charts"--motivic arrangements communally developed by bands such as the Fletcher Henderson and Basie bands, often left unnotated.

Benny Goodman had joined the trend for small groups in 1935, though in a more forward looking way, hiring Teddy Wilson to form a trio with himself and Gene Krupa. The group was expanded to a quartet with the addition of Lionel Hampton in 1936, producing music that was no longer a direct representation of New Orleans or Chicago, but something altogether different. One more major expansion of the group took place with the additions of Charlie Christian and various other players; the Goodman Sextet becoming Benny's small ensemble of choice from 1939 through the mid 1950s.

Considering all of these, which had gained considerable success over the years, Shaw's entry into the small group fray was quite late. When he finally entered, it was with a unique twist: this would be the group to pursue his old ideas concerning "chamber jazz"; ideas which had met with only sporadic success. In an era that prized "hot and loud" music, Shaw had never been at home. His ideal was cooler, more introspective, less bombastic. While the first cuts by his new group would feature some distinctly "hot" numbers, it would ultimately be remembered for its reflective romanticism.

The first version of the band was comprised of Artie's clarinet along with Billy Butterfield on trumpet, Al Hendrickson on guitar, Jud DeNaut on bass, Nick Fatool on drums, and the novelty for which the first Gramercy 5 will always be know, Johnny Guarnieri on harpsichord.

 The first recording session of the Gramercy 5 took place on September 3, 1940, and was emblematic for the group's direction. There were two Shaw originals: "Special Delivery Stomp", derived from his earlier big band chart "Man from Mars", and a blues, "Summit Ridge Drive", named for Artie's Hollywood address at the time. Then there were two 'standards': "Keepin' Myself for You" and "Cross Your Heart."

"Summit Ridge Drive" became a major hit, selling over a million copies while taking advantage of the new craze for jukeboxes, and establishing credibility for the new band.

The next session took place three months later, on December 5, 1940. Once again there were two Shaw originals and two standards. "Dr. Livingstone, I Presume" was to contain Shaw's most explicit klezmer reference as a composer, while his sarcastic "When the Quail Come Back to San Quentin" paradoxically provided a canvas for many of his more baroque and inspired solo musings in future years. The standards recorded that day were to become almost synonymous with the group: "Smoke Gets in Your Eyes" (a miniature gem of aural poetics) and "My Blue Heaven", the solo of which contains one of Shaw's earliest veiled references to Stravinsky's Petrushka, a piece he would return to more than once.  

The group continued to develop past its initial line-up, with each reiteration adding a layer or two of depth and innovation. Reassembled in 1945, Roy Eldridge was featured on trumpet, Dodo Marmarosa on piano instead of harpsichord, and Barney Kessel on guitar. This was the group that laid down a succession of Shaw's most biting original tunes--"The Sad Sack" (short for "sad sack of shit"--a term used to describe worthless soldiers in WWII), "The Grabtown Grapple" (which predated Charlie Parker's similarly named "Scrapple from the Apple"), "Scuttlebutt" (Artie's ode to arguments), "The Gentle Grifter" and "Mysterioso" among them. Sometimes brooding, always intense, these tunes brought a satirical edge to small group jazz similar to Mahler's moments of symphonic sarcasm or Shostakovich's bitter parodies. This continued throughout the '40s, with Shaw adding tunes like "Crumbum" and "Nothin' From Nothin'" to the catalogue.

Also like Mahler, while capable of being artistically critical and biting, Shaw was very rarely pessimistic in an ultimate sense. Over the course of his career he recorded many songs of disappointment and even bitterness, but only one ("Gloomy Sunday") strikes as despairing, self-pitying, and hopeless. A more typically Shavian message comes at the end of 1950's Gramercy 5 recording of "There Must Be Something Better Than Love"--the end of which dismisses the title sentiment with the final rhetorical questions:

But if there's something better than love who's got it?
Who wants it?
Do you?

Often emotionally confrontational, Shaw's love tunes from this period were certainly not facile.

The last group to be known as the Gramercy 5 was an entirely reconstituted group, both in sound and personnel. With Hank Jones on piano and Joe Roland on vibes, especially, the group took on a truly pellucid, ruminative, and romantic quality that has rarely if ever been matched, and was finally to realize Shaw's vision of clear, deep, chamber jazz. This is the group that laid down the now famous "Last Recordings" and "Final Sessions" of Artie Shaw, which were kept unreleased for several decades. They were the summit of Shaw's achievement and as complete a look at his career's importance as we were ever to get--a last will and testament before, like Prospero, he "broke his staff and drowned his book."

Immediately apparent to Shaw enthusiasts is the difference in tone from these recordings. Gone is so much of the bitterness, the biting sarcasm, and the frustration-laced wailings of so many of Shaw's earlier recordings. Peace, so difficult to convey in music, gentleness, and warmth are dominant in new ways in this music--it exudes a pure, fresh romanticism seemingly untainted by darker elements often associated with the term. After these sessions, Shaw packed up his clarinet and never recorded again.

This 5-disc set from Jasmine Records, entitled "Six Star Treats" is perhaps the most essential box of jazz clarinet recordings available. Not only does it bring together, for the first time, all of the studio recordings of the various groups to work under the Gramercy 5 name, but it provides alternate takes and many live performances, including some tunes the group never recorded in the studio.

Towards the end of disc one, for instance, there are clips from a Bing Crosby broadcast featuring the Gramercy 5 performing Gershwin's "I Was Doing Alright" and Rodgers & Hart's "You Took Advantage of Me", both of which are given masterful interpretation and neither of which was recorded in studio. There are also some rare alternate, shorter takes released as singles of the last Gramercy 5. "Besame Mucho", "Tenderly", and "Stop and Go Mambo" are each presented in this alternate form, giving a rare and brief glimpse into the "head arrangement" process that Shaw had used throughout the life of the ensemble.

The transfers of these recordings are consistently good, though collectors will also want to own other versions. The RCA Victor "Complete" disc (which is nowhere near complete, but contains only the studio recordings from 1940-45)  has exceptionally good sound, and the original issues of the "Last Recordings" have not only good sound quality, but important interview liner notes with Shaw.

But as it stands, this 5-disc set is the very best out there for Artie Shaw and His Gramercy 5. It is the most comprehensive box of Shaw's most important recordings. It couldn't be more essential. Five Good Reeds indeed.