Bill Smith, William O. Smith, Br. Roy Parker, and Me (R.I.P William O. 'Bill' Smith)

I learned just yesterday, via the NY Times obituary, that one of the greatest of all clarinetists, William O. Smith (better know to jazz audiences as Bill Smith) passed away last February 29th. He was 93 years old, and lived a life wherein he contributed not only some of the finest jazz of the past century, but expanded our understanding of the clarinet, continuously, for decades. The obituaries will detail his remarkable and unique career - the talented composer who won the Prix de Paris, the Prix de Rome, and who studied with Darius Milhaud and Roger Sessions - the modern jazz master who recorded three albums of his own music with Dave Brubeck at the height of his popularity, but who preferred an academic career to a life of touring and recording. I'm sure there is much more to tell of those facets of his life and work, but his music effected me so deeply, I can't help but share one little story, of how I first heard Smith's music.

I was a teenager in the 1980s, immersed in clarinet playing and specifically jazz, when I happened to meet a monk from Holy Cross Monastery in West Park, NY. My brother and I used to spend time volunteering there--we'd clean the guesthouse before retreats. One of the monks was named Br Roy Parker, and though a soft spoken man, known for the masterful calligraphy he drew, he was in fact a huge fan of jazz, and while working in his shop would often listen to Benny Goodman, Dave Brubeck, and the like. He soon learned of my love of Goodman, Shaw, and others, and we'd talk jazz regularly. One Sunday afternoon when I was there to clean, Br. Roy announced that he was switching over his whole collection of cassette tapes to the newly introduced CD format -- and he gave me first pick of anything in his shop that I wanted. I don't remember all the tapes I took home that day -- but I remember the most important: Near-Myth/Brubeck-Smith. 

I had never heard of Bill Smith before, but that album opened new vistas for me as a clarinetist. In contrast to other modern jazz clarinetists, he seemed to come at modern jazz from a the point of view of a clarinetist, rather than through the saxophone. To put it another way, while it was clear he had listened to Charlie Parker, and gained language through that listening, it never seemed he was translating Bird to clarinet. To listen to Smith was to hear a musical personality of such depth, any influences were subservient to his own musical thought. For me personally, his art remains the most fascinating and satisfying of modern jazz clarinet.

His solo from 'The Unihorn' on Near-Myth was the first I ever sat down and transcribed by hand. Years later, I purchased the LP version simply to read the liner notes - it now hangs on my studio wall.

Near-Myth on my Studio Wall

A few years later, as an undergraduate clarinet major at the Hartt School of Music, I was given an assignment by the late Dr. David Macbride: to find a recording of a clarinetist using 'extended techniques' and play it for his 20th century music theory class. While rifling through the stacks of the Hartt Music Library, I stumbled across my first exposure to William O. Smith: Bill's classical side. Here I found him performing his own Concerto for Jazz Soloist and Orchestra, and a cavalcade of extended techniques in his brilliant Variants for clarinet solo. I've published a review of this album here.

I've made several attempts to get in contact with Bill Smith over the years, but unfortunately failed each time. I'd hoped to get copies of his lead sheets and other works that might not be readily available in print and tried in vain to get a hold of his published jazz clarinet method. If any of you readers know how to procure these things, please don't hesitate to contact me -- I'd appreciate it.

Though very little of his work is reviewed on this blog (his recording of The Riddle with Dave Brubeck might be my only other) it's more because of my admiration, and hopes to do his music justice, that I have refrained. I'll try to rectify that in the coming weeks and months.     

But those review's are for another day...today, there's just one more thing...

The day Bill Smith died, I'd actually been messaging a friend about his music, how much it continued to inspire me. And when I learned just yesterday of Smith's death, I tried to find contact information for my old friend, Br. Roy Parker, who I hadn't spoken to in over thirty years. I wanted to let him know about Smith's passing if he hadn't already heard, and to thank him for introducing this music to me. But it turns out Br. Roy passed away just nine days before Bill Smith. Br. Roy was a great artist in his own right, and appreciated all the technical nuances jazz musicians navigated - he would ask me all about those things with great interest. He was a great listener, and learned from what he heard. I hope and pray that he and William O are swapping notes in heaven right now. 

Br. Roy Parker, OHC

The greatest music is so powerful that it impresses itself right onto one's life story. Br. Roy's kindness and Bill Smith's celebratory brilliance will forever be connected in my mind.  May they both rest in eternal peace.

Wall of Inspiration in my Studio

Two Sides of Bill Smith * CRI * 1974

Concerto for Jazz Soloist and Orchestra
William O. Smith, clarinet
Orchestra U.S.A.; Gunther Schuller, conductor

Mosaic 
William O. Smith, clarinet
Robert Suderburg, piano 

Variants for solo clarinet
William O. Smith, clarinet


I first heard this recording on LP, nearly twenty five years ago, while an undergraduate clarinet performance major at the Hartt School of Music. Our 20th century form and analysis professor, Dr. David Macbride, had given us the assignment of presenting the class with recorded examples of extended techniques on our major instrument. I presented two clarinetists: Artie Shaw and this album by William O. Smith. Shaw's Concerto for Clarinet served as a primer for how jazz timbral language had broadened our understanding of the expressive sonorities possible on the clarinet, outside of the classical canon. William O. Smith took matters even further, showing how a clarinetist equally comfortable in jazz and classical realms could expand both genres exponentially.

I'm not going to do a full analysis of this album, which would look and read more like a graduate thesis than a blog post. Suffice it to say there is actually enough material here for a graduate thesis, and a good one at that. There have been many attempts at concerti for jazz soloists and orchestra, and many clarinet concerti have been written with jazz clarinetists in mind. But this has to be one of the finest. Applying his extensive knowledge of jazz, modern classical methods (such as serialism) and an inside knowledge of extended clarinet techniques (many of which he discovered and charted), the concerto on Side 1 is a unique tour de force. I know of no other wind player who has done anything quite like it for their instrument--expanding our knowledge of the capabilities of the instrument while mastering multiple genres, seamlessly fused together in a thrilling and meaningful musical expression.

It helps tremendously that the orchestra was sympathetic, could swing and articulate like a jazz band, and was lead by a champion of  this music. Indeed, the conductor, Gunther Schuller, coined the term "Third Stream" to describe a potential fusion between European concert music and jazz, so successfully accomplished here. Beyond that, the music itself is fully effective: the liner notes to the album point out the following:

A twelve-tone row is the basis for both the orchestral material and the improvised clarinet part. Although the listener is not expected to follow the various permutations of the row, it is hoped that he will feel a psychological cohesion. The row itself utilizes only two basic intervals, the major 2nd and the minor 3rd, and is simply the transposition of a four note figure which happens to be the first four notes of I Got Rhythm. The simplicity of the the row lends itself to spontaneous improvisation. The four movements correspond roughly to traditional concerto form. In style, the jazz idiom is consistently employed. 

Here serialism isn't presented as dry or melodically meaningless. Upon listening, the reasons for using twelve tone method seems to be manifold, but include a chance to focus more on timbral issues, and tone color. There is an expansive, lyrical quality to it rather than restrictive (the technique can be used either way), and the connection to jazz history really works.

Side 2 features a more intimate chamber setting, and for those interested in Smith's jaw dropping, abstracted use of extended techniques (including multiphonics, extreme altissimo, and even mutes, if my memory of the score to Variants is accurate after 25 years) this will keep you interested. When I was in music school, it was common for clarinetists to program William O. Smith's Five Pieces for Clarinet Solo on recitals. Those are great pieces, and a worthy addition to the unaccompanied clarinet repertoire, but I always thought the more challenging and intriguing pieces of his for solo clarinet were the Variants. They are certainly more demanding on both the clarinetist and the audience, and are also the fruits of Smith's extensive research in the area of extended techniques. Combined with this recording of the composer himself, the Variants represent a real watershed moment in the history of the clarinet.

This album is off the charts, should be in every clarinetist's library, and ought to be more widely available. Buy one of the vinyl copies still to be found before they're all gone.