Eric Seddon's Hot Club, Live at BLU Jazz + on Mardi Gras (Feb 28th, 8pm)

Join us for our salute to "Mr. Mardi Gras", Pete Fountain!

Mr. Acker Bilk and His Paramount Jazz Band * ACKER * Columbia Record 33 SX 1248 * 1960

White Cliffs of Dover

Snake Rag
2.19 Blues
Fancy Pants
Lazy River
There's a Rainbow 'Round My Shoulder
Original Dixieland Onestep
Good Night, Sweet Prince
Good Woman Blues
Bottom of the Bottle
Milenberg Joys

Personnel [as listed in the album notes]:

Mr. Acker Bilk * clarionet and titular head 
Mr. Ken Sims * trumpet 
Mr. Jonathan Mortimer * trombone
Mr. Roy James * tenor banjo
Mr. Ernest Price * bass
Mr. Ronald McKay * traps and effects

recorded on the 5th, 7th, and 13th days of April, 1960

As with The Seven Ages of Acker and Band of Thieves, I'm sure I like this album way too much for my own good. From the zany liner notes and bowler hat cover to the vocal clarinet and loose but well balanced band, this is exactly what you'd expect from the golden era of Mr. Acker Bilk's Paramount Jazz Band, and it's probably one of their best albums.

The English Trad Jazz scene has historically been a bit of an anomaly to us Americans, though it's so little known in the United States, in a general sense, that to even call it that might be a little strong. Without putting too fine a point on it, the approach to the ambiance of the music, and sometimes to the social meaning of it, tends to be different on either side of the pond. Whereas the American attitude generally ranges anywhere from solemnity to a festive presentation of the music, there almost always seems a zany, Marx-brothers type approach not far in the background of British Trad. This can get annoying for Americans like myself, and it can be prohibitive to enjoyment of some bands, however well the musicians might play. To some very serious traditionalists here in the US, it can seem downright insulting to the music. Why Acker Bilk's Paramount Jazz Band is an exception, despite their use of comedy, is of interest to me, and something I've spent time considering.

My answer is simply that, for all the silliness of the liner notes, striped waistcoats, bowler hats, and hijinx, this is really fine, soulful music making. Bilk's clarinet is immediately identifiable: you can hear right to his heart and soul every time he picks up the horn. He had unique intangibles that were impossible to measure: like how to "lift" an entire performance when he added his voice, and how the band "goes" with him emotionally.

Over the last couple  of years, especially, I've been an advocate for Acker's music here in Cleveland. Many of the musicians I've played with, some of them considerably older than I am, hadn't really heard his playing before I started putting tunes on set lists and scheduling Acker Bilk themed concerts. I'd send bandmates recordings to listen to and we'd talk about them on set breaks or to and from gigs. The response has often been exactly my feelings about the music: that Acker had a unique lyricism, a very touching voice, and the band had an infectious joy about them. The approval hasn't been universal, or without criticism, but many musicians I've talked to have been very impressed. Even the humor that surrounds Bilk's packaging seems specifically good humored, and not just silly.

This album evokes WWII era nostalgia with "White Cliffs of Dover" immediately, then reaches back to early numbers like "Snake Rag" and "2.19 Blues" which originate with King Oliver's Creole Jazz Band and Louis Armstrong and Sidney Bechet, respectively. Immediately after that, though, we get an Acker Bilk original, "Fancy Pants", which might seem just goofy and simple, capitalizing on the caribbean/calypso fad of the late '50s and early '60s. On the surface, there's really nothing to this song: It's just made of a few simple, arpeggiated chords, modulates very obviously, upwards, and is nothing to write home about. But all that aside, it's a great little tune, and it's Acker's joyful sound, as usual, that makes it more than the notes themselves. Most impressively, despite all of the stylistic shifts and eras represented on the album (including another Bilk original "Good Night, Sweet Prince" and the howling howler "Good Woman Blues") the band has a unified concept and approach, making the whole program sound as though the tunes could have been written the day they were recorded.        

This is the real addictive thing about Bilk and his band, especially of this era: They play with such joy and zest, and interpret tunes with such freshness, that all eras seem irrelevant when they're playing. It's just music, and their happiness to be sharing it is obvious. For me, this is vintage Acker Bilk, and even though I've only known of his music for a few years now, it's become an indispensable part of my regular listening (and as a band leader, my set lists).

Promotional poster from our first Acker Bilk tribute concert, back in 2015

  

Mpingo Documentary by Sir David Attenborough featuring Acker Bilk * 1992

Catching a reference to it on social media earlier today, I dug up a 1992 tv/e documentary called  Mpingo: The Tree That Makes Music, by Sir David Attenborough. It's a wonderful film giving excellent footage of mpingo wood, from the trees in Tanzania all the way to the concert halls and pubs of Europe.

When first clicking, I had no idea it would feature so much jazz clarinet. The great Acker Bilk was, in fact, the very first clarinetist shown (or even heard) on this documentary, near the seven minute mark, performing what appears to be a humble pub gig. Then, while showing off the manufacturing process of Buffet clarinets around the twenty minute mark, we're treated to Barney Bigard's classic performance of "Clarinet Lament (Barney's Concerto)" with the Duke Ellington Orchestra. At around 37:30 we're back at Acker Bilk pub gig, getting the chance to hear him, without strings or extended orchestration, launch into his most famous tune, "Stranger on the Shore." After this clip, Bilk offers his opinion that the clarinet is essential to jazz performance--which is not the sort of thing clarinetists are used to hearing when jazz is discussed, but Acker makes it clear he feels something is missing from a jazz band without it. It's great to hear him mention the light and dark qualities, the shadings the clarinet possesses in contrast to other instruments, noting that mpingo wood is responsible for the special warmth and tone quality of the instrument. Overall, it's a unique little moment of grateful reflection for the instrument, and a brief but eloquent argument for the clarinet's importance in our music.

One of the most moving moments of the documentary, for me, was hearing a conservationist named Robert Lamb describe the sound of the clarinet, in terms that I think will resonate with all of us who play this instrument: "What you're hearing is nature's voice: a direct connection between nature and music." This is highly recommended viewing for clarinetists and anyone interested in this remarkable wood.

Sidney Bechet * May 26, 1938 * with Trixie Smith and Grant & Wilson * Decca

May 26, 1938 was unique in Sidney Bechet's career: on this day he recorded ten tunes, all of them entirely on the clarinet. Maybe his soprano sax was in the shop, maybe he forgot it, or maybe he simply didn't feel like playing it that day, but whatever the reason, his clarinet chops were ready to go. One thing we can say without reservation: the sides he cut on May 26, 1938 in Decca's New York studios with singer Trixie Smith document some of his finest clarinet work.

What can I say about his playing on "Freight Train Blues"? It's an anthology of his greatest clarinet techniques, and he is so well miked that we really, finally, get a sense of his total sound quality. Trixie Smith is laid back as a singer, but a perfectly cool partner to Bechet's heat. The rest of the band includes Charlie Shavers on trumpet, Sammy Price on piano, Teddy Bunn on guitar, Richard Fullbright on bass, and O'Neill Spencer on drums. On "Trixie's Blues" the band gets the perfect soft bumping groove, and imprompu head riffs are woven and embellished by Bechet and Shavers throughouot. Bechet's clarinet is really in astonishing form for this date, and he delivers as close to a definitive performance as we could hope for on "My Daddy Rocks Me With One Steady Roll" (Parts 1 & 2). In his sound we can hear everything--from his warmest pumpkin bread chalumeau to muscular, biting altissimo. The interplay between Bechet and the muted Shavers is a type of contrapuntal perfection: they seem ideally suited for this sort of vocalist-fronted combo. Trixie is at her best when she's singing a blues; the more popular tunes like "Jack, I'm Mellow" or "My Unusual Man" are less convincing, and she falls a bit into vaudeville style. But the masterful blues sides by this band more than make up for anything else.

Later that day, the same backing band recorded with Coot Grant & Sox Wilson, a girl/boy vocal duo with more vaudeville pretensions, and a considerable step down from the musical quality of the Trixie Smith recordings. Bechet's clarinetistry is good and solid; once again the Decca recording engineers capture him exceptionally well, but these are comparatively forgettable sides. By the last tune of the day, "Blue Monday on Sugar Hill", Bechet seems to have run out of inspiration, delivering a competent but very common solo by his standards. Still, on the whole, this was a remarkable day in Bechet's recorded output, especially from the standpoint of the clarinet. Fans of Sidney Bechet are going to want to hear them.


[ Note: My review is based upon the remastered versions found in the Universal boxed set. I can't vouch for other transfers...]

Sidney Bechet and the New Orleans Feetwarmers * 1932

Sweetie Dear (Jordan/Cook)
I Want You Tonight (Bechet/Maxey)
I've Found a New Baby (Williams/Palmer)
Lay Your Racket (Bechet/Maxey)
Maple Lead Rag (Joplin)
Shag (Bechet)

Sidney Bechet * clarinet, soprano saxophone
Tommy Ladnier * trumpet
Teddy Nixon * trombone
Hank Duncan * piano
Wilson Myers * bass, vocals on "I Want You Tonight" and "Shag"
Morris Morand * drums 
Billy Maxey * vocal on "Lay Your Racket"

In 1932, Sidney Bechet and Tommy Ladnier declared fleeting independence from commercial music, broke free from Noble Sissle's orchestra, and on September 15, recorded six of the finest sides of their careers. The New Orleans reed man and Louisiana trumpet player had met, oddly enough, in Moscow in 1926 while touring through the Soviet Union, and had recorded with Sissle's group just prior to their own small combo formation. They named the group the New Orleans Feetwarmers, and though the vogue for small ensemble hot jazz was quickly fading, these sides shout like a cry of freedom, remaining among Bechet's crowning achievements.

The New Orleans Feetwarmers weren't just a studio organization, but a gigging band, playing around White Plains, NY, and in Jersey City while they built up repertoire. The night before these historic recordings were made, the sextet opened New York's Savoy Ballroom, billed as "Ladnier and Bechet's New Orleans Feetwarmers."

Bechet gets composition credits on half the numbers. His clarinet soloing is unusual and aggressive on "Sweetie Dear"--a study in his shocking brilliance. He's soulfully bluesy on "I Want You Tonight", but nothing can prepare anyone for his soprano sax tour de force on "I've Found a New Baby." From his masterful use of delay, seemingly stepping in and out of time over the barlines, to his fast triplet figures, jazz just doesn't get better than this. He pivots from lyrical and dazzling within split seconds, diving and soaring at will. Anyone who believes New Orleans style jazz is somehow less advanced than more self-consciously intellectual and modernist styles needs to check this out. The Soprano Sax virtuosity continues on his own "Lay Your Racket" and, especially "Maple Leaf Rag", which is up there with "I've Found a New Baby" as an unsurpassably brilliant interpretation of the tune. Throughout these recordings, his use of trills on both clarinet and soprano sax is exciting and unique, worthy of study for all musicians hoping to expand their ideas.

For as brilliant as they sounded, the New Orleans Feetwarmers weren't long for this world. The tastes in New York had already shifted, and Hot Jazz was becoming increasingly unfashionable as the sweet music crooners began taking over the gigging scene. The great depression was taking it's toll and most nightclubs couldn't afford hiring a five or six piece band on a regular basis, opting instead for a pianist alone (Chilton 90). It would be another couple of years before Benny Goodman's band could bring back a hotter style, albeit primarily in the form of a big band.

If the Feetwarmers had overarching societal problems contributing to their demise, there were also internal problems. Bechet and Ladnier quarrelled over leadership and billing, and at one point after a gig, drummer Morris Morand  got into a fight with Bechet, even threatening to kill him (Chilton, 95). Bechet, as usual, moved on quickly to join Willie "The Lion" Smith at Pod's and Jerry's Club, and the Feetwarmers were no more. In the end, they left us one brilliant session, consisting of six tunes, among which are two or three that will never be topped. For that we can all be grateful.    



Recommended reading:

Chilton, John. Sidney Bechet: The Wizard of Jazz. OUP (New York). 1987

Jelly Roll Morton 1930 (featuring Lorenzo Tio, Jr; Albert Nicholas and others ) * CD 323 from JSPCD Jazzbox903 * Remastered by John R.T. Davies

For as disappointing as Volume Two of JSP's Jelly Roll Morton box is from a clarinetist's perspective, Volume three is a real treat, at least for most tracks. This disc covers the Red Hot Peppers recordings from sessions in 1930. Of particular interest to clarinetists will be two gems, "Little Lawrence" and "Harmony Blues", featuring Lorenzo Tio, Jr.. Tio was the youngest of a family of clarinet players and teachers whose influence on the history of jazz clarinet would be difficult to exaggerate. Junior taught Sidney Bechet, Jimmie Noone, Omer Simeon, Johnny Dodds, Barney Bigard, Albert Nicholas, and other important jazz clarinetists of the early 20th century, and the foundation of the New Orleans sound is evident in his playing on these records--lush, round, and soulful. Despite his activity in both New Orleans and New York over the course of his career, he actually recorded very little (only a few sessions with Clarence Williams, Sidney Bechet, and Morton), so these sides are an absolute must for jazz clarinet aficionados.

The rest of the CD is taken up with various clarinetists who generally do a good job, including Happy Caldwell, a mystery clarinetist who might have been Ernie Bullock or Jerry Blake, and Albert Nicholas, who is in much better form for these recordings than the ones from a year or so earlier. His tone is full and mellow--the sound we generally associate with his playing. His chalumeau solo on "Low Gravy" sounds particularly influenced by Jimmie Noone, and he's focused on even more on "Strokin' Away." "Blue Blood Blues" is perhaps the best of the bunch, beginning with a truly beautiful chalumeau melody, which seems to portend the chalumeau work of Acker Bilk and Terry Lightfoot some thirty and forty years later.

The disc is rounded out with two tunes featuring a mystery clarinetist of lesser quality, but the songs themselves ("Gambling Jack" and "Fickle Fay Creep") are well worth hearing.

Jelly Roll Morton 1928-29 (featuring Russell Procope, George Baquet, Albert Nicholas, & Barney Bigard) * CD 322 from JSPCD Jazzbox903 * Remastered by John R.T. Davies

When starting this blog over six years ago, I knew it would take a while before addressing recordings like these. The repertoire is important, because many of the tunes are great and the composer/bandleader was a giant of jazz, but the clarinet playing is generally bad and sometimes awful. My goal for this blog was (and remains) to build a substantial body of reviews demonstrating true greatness of clarinetists throughout the various eras. Unfortunately, the overall recorded catalog of music that was created in the 1920s and 30s, which is arguably the most important era for the clarinet, was a bit indiscriminate as to the quality of players. Many of the greatest virtuosi (Jimmie Noone, Benny Goodman) were recorded right alongside some of the worst clarinetists ever documented in the studio. The poor players are almost universally flat, can't handle high notes especially, their tone is overwraught and weak from overblowing,  they break notes, their tonguing his ham fisted, their rhythm is bad, and unfortunately, they are too often copied as "authentic" by amateurs and doubling professionals alike.

While blues grittiness and pitch inflection are an essential part of playing jazz clarinet, an overall flat and flabby tone is not competent playing, no matter who is doing it. Neither Sidney Bechet nor Jimmie Noone played this way--their styles, while far apart in terms of timbre and instrumental approach, are worthy models of imitation. The same can be said of many Johnny Dodds recordings, such as the sides he cut with King Oliver. But Dodds, like many others, struggled at times with his pitch, and we should be honest about those moments. Now a word of caution: we shouldn't take this too far as no one plays spot on in tune, in a mechanical sense, every time. You can find plenty of examples of variable intonation, especially if you're tracking note to note, in any of the great players--including classical virtuosi who work within even more limited intonational parameters. But as a rule, the great players aren't sagging consistently below pitch, or riding a quarter tone sharp either.

This collection demonstrates the big step down in clarinetistry in Jelly Roll Morton's bands after the initial recordings with Omer Simeon and Johnny Dodds. A young Russell Procope (who had improved somewhat by the time he played with Ellington) plays flat on December 6, 1928's "Red Hot Pepper" and his solo on "Deep Creek Blues" is a real disappointment for such a beautiful tune. We can only imagine what a player like Noone or Bechet would have done.

By July 9, 1929, Procope had been replaced by George Baquet, who isn't any better. His clarinet is particularly bad on the out chorus of "Burnin' the Iceberg" and haunts "Courthouse Bump" and "Pretty Lil" from the same date as well. His intonation is so bad it sounds almost like a drunken parody at times. His low level playing continues on the next day's session, flabbing his way through a solo on "Sweet Aneta Mine" and sticking out horribly for his flatness on "New Orleans Bump (Monrovia)."

The torture continues on July 12, 1929, when Baquet rasps, flabs, and squeaks his way through "Down My Way", "Try Me Out", and "Tank Town Bump." I can't stress it enough: This is not 'authentic' jazz clarinet playing; it's just incompetent. Frankly, this sort of playing is unlistenable for any serious clarinetist, revealing that the standards for our very difficult instrument were sometimes poorly maintained on recordings, even by the most important band leaders. The clarinet playing is so bad the recordings would have better without a clarinet--and unfortunately, perhaps in part because of hideous performances like these, many bandleaders started deciding exactly that.

By November 13, 1929, Jelly Roll had replaced his clarinetist again, this time for a Red Hot Peppers session featuring Albert Nicholas, the childhood friend of Sidney Bechet who was to record successfully with him later in life. These recordings are not Nicholas's greatest recorded work by a long shot--he tends to be on the flat side, and his solos aren't great-- but he's at least a step up from the truly abysmal playing of Baquet.

Even Barney Bigard can't rescue this album, though his clarinet playing is better than most on the disc. The final four tunes, recorded on December 17, 1929, feature the Jelly Roll Morton Trio with Bigard on clarinet and Zutty Singleton on drums. Bigard struggles with his high clarion, altissimo intonation, and his attacks. Even though his ideas tend to be decent (he was a far more competent clarinetist at this point than anyone else on the Jelly Roll Morton sessions from these years) that really isn't saying much. His playing is excruciatingly out of tune on tunes like "Turtle Twist" and "My Little Dixie Home." This isn't good Bigard...it's actually embarrassingly bad for someone who was to play better (if inconsistently) in the future.

So why bother writing a review like this? Well, there are a couple of reasons. One of them is to say there have to be professional standards. If  a player can't handle the instrument on a basic level of musicianship, they can do real damage to the estimation of the instrument overall. Players like Buddy DeFranco and Artie Shaw routinely dismissed or disparaged the early New Orleans players, implying or openly saying they weren't important to the history of the instrument in jazz. If all anyone had heard were these Jelly Roll Morton sides, or some of the Hot Fives session where Johnny Dodds struggled with his intonation, this could be understood as an act of professional self preservation as much as anything else. This disc features such bad clarinet playing, it makes you want to go back in time with a saw and savagely adjust their barrels. But to dismiss all of New Orleans clarinet because of this would be terribly wrong. All one has to do (and should do) is listen to some Jimmie Noone as an antidote.

This disc earns a broken reed for clarinetists.