Tad Richards' odyssey through the catalog of Prestige Records:an unofficial and idiosyncratic history of jazz in the 50s and 60s. With occasional digressions.
Benny Golson and a full orchestra had backed Jimmy Witherspoon in Stockholm in 1964, and now in London in 1965, Golson was ready to round up a new orchestra and do it again. In fact, he was ready to recapitulate his entire Stockholm syndrome--he had done sessions with both Witherspoon and jazz singer Carol Ventura in Sweden, and so again in London. Golson, producer Lew Futterman and Prestige Records had something of a hit-and-miss record as predictors of popularity. The jazz chanteuse sank remarkably quickly into an undeserved oblivion; the blues, pop-blues, soul-blues crooner-shouter remains one
of the most popular representatives of his genre to this day.
Crafting hit records, and careers, is guesswork at best, as witness, on the one hand, Decca's decision to pass on the Beatles, and on the other, the mega-bucks and extravagant promotional campaigns devoted to Jobriath (who?) Making good music, on the other hand, is frequently as simple as getting some really good people together and giving them some creative freedom.
And such is the case here. Benny Golson clearly felt there was more to do with jazz singers and a full orchestra, and he was right. I spent an exhaustive amount of time and space on the previous Golson-Witherspoon collaboration, so I won't go into it all again, but this is a delighful album, the kind you'd put on again and again.
I don't know where they got the songs from. None of them are familiar to me, and few of the songwriters are even vaguely familiar to me. All of the titles sound vaguely like something you've probably heard before. None of them became standards, even though eight of them were released on 45 RPM singles. But they're good enough songs. and they fit Spoon's voice, and Golson's arrangements.
The singles were:
Make This Heart Of Mine Smile Again / Love Me Right
Oh How I Love You / One Last Chance
I Never Thought I'd See The Day / If There Wasn't Any You
Two Hearts Are Better Than One / Come On And Walk With Me
The album was titled Spoon in London. Lew Futterman produced. Baxking vocals were done by the Ladybirds, a British trio soon to become known for their work on the Benny Hill Show.
Montego Joe's two albums for Prestige were his only two as a leader, though he continued to be in demand as a percussionist through the 1960s and '70s. This second album leans toward what appears to be an attempt to move Joe into the mainstream of 1960s pop instrumentals. The tune that was selected for 45 RPM release is "Ouch," which uses the popular device of a repeated catch phrase, in this case "You shouldn't do that!" This is the device most successfully used in "Tequila," and "Ouch" is pretty good proof that it isn't always successful.
The session log includes a credit as arranger/conductor for tenor sax man Al Gibbons. Gibbons had a solid career without ever quite breaking through to the top ranks. He played in the orchestras of Earl Hines and Woody Herman, and also in the avant garde Jazz Composer's Orchestra. He worked with Stanley Turrentine and the Manhattan Transfer. And here his job seems to have been to create a Montego Joe for the masses, although one suspects that producer Lew Futterman's may have been the heavier hand.
Prestige, especially in the soul jazz era, was not a label to shy away from popular success, but neither was it a label to court it too assiduously, and the liner notes to this album, by Francis Squibb, seem to reflect that ambiguity. Are we courting the young crowd? Well, yes and no...
The music presented here is rhythmically akin to the rock 'n' roll and rhythm 'n' blues of the discotheques and teen hops--but with a difference. The "big beat," with which almost everyone is familiar, has been seasoned generously with a variety of twists and turns from African tribal musical traditions and from African-American music of Latin America and the Caribbean.
In short, like "Tequila." Or like Perez Prado. As someone who lived through that era, I can't help but follow the twists and turns of Mr. Squibb's attempts to find a balance. The rhythm 'n' blues of discotheques? For a start, who used the 'n' of rock 'n' roll to talk about rhythm and blues? But if you were young and representing yourself as a hip aficionado of jazz, you couldn't admit to liking rock 'n' roll...but it was sort of OK to like rhythm and blues.
Sorry, I can't help myself. Squibb's discomfort in being a jazz purist writing about impure music reveals itself in his compulsive need to put words into quotation marks, that familiar device that signals "I'm really better than this, I'm not really saying this":
The music of Wet and Wild was designed to get people to "shake that thing"--and not just that thing but everything [until] you are no longer "doing" the dance...but are a creature of the music and--perhaps--of something beyond music as we know it. [Perhaps you have seen them] "doing" the Frug, the Monkey, or the Swim.
The tunes on this LP, intended to emphasize the "commercial" aspects, have been selected with "the younger crowd of dancers" in mind.
Montego...continues to demonstrate...the ways in which supposedly "alien" melodic and rhythmical material can be combined with "native" jazz and pop material...
So Montego Joe and producer Lew Futterman set out to make a commercially successful pop album. It was certainly something that Futterman proved good at, in his work with Jack McDuff and George Benson, and his later work with rockers like Ted Nugent. He would also become even more commercially successful as a real estate developer.
Why didn't it work with Montego Joe? Who knows why things do or don't take off commercially? But also, perhaps, Joe's heart wasn't one hundred percent in it. Although he continued to work as a percussionist on a number of jazz (and a few pop) sessions, his heart was more and more with education and youth work, as described in the notes to his previous Prestige album.
Al Gibbons, trumpeter Leonard Goines, and drummer/percussionist Milford Graves all appeared on the previous album. New for this session are Arthur Jenkins, piano; Ed Thompson, bass; and Sonny Morgan, miscellaneous percussion, suggesting that the budget may have been tighter this time around, or that for a more commercial dance sound, they didn't really need Chick Corea and Eddie Gomez. Jenkins, who during this period was primarily working with pop/reggae singer Johnny Nash, would go on to become a much-sought-after accompanist, working with John Lennon, Harry Belafonte and Bob Marley, among others. Sonny Morgan worked with Milford Graves on his first album as leader, and later with avant-garde vocalist Leon Thomas, among others. Less is known about Ed Thompson.
"Ouch" and "Give it Up" were the two sides of the only 45 RPM single release. Wild & Warm was recorded at Futterman's preferred Regent Sound Studios in Manhattan. I've selected "Haitian Lady," composed by Harold Ousley, as the most interesting track for me. But the whole album is pretty good for "dancing."
Next up in the Prestige chronology we have the debut album by a pianist-composer who has fashioned one of the more impressive careers in American music, who has recorded over 250 albums, worked with "everyone from Ellington to Elvis, Joni Mitchell to Barbra Streisand, and Quincy Jones to Yo-Yo Ma" (from the bio on his web page), garnered a Grammy and an Oscar nomination, who has written the scores for 20 movies including the Streisand remake of A Star is Born; and a mid-career album (fourth out of a total of six) by a performer whose career is mostly bounded by the town of Perth Amboy, New Jersey,
where he and his trio were local favorites for over five decades, including a 22-year stint at one local club. The former's debut album was not long ago rereleased on CD; none of the albums by the latter seem to have been rereleased.
Unfortunately, I was only able to locate and listen to one of these albums on a streaming service--and it wasn't the guy with the truckloadfull of credentials. The Roger Kellaway Trio was actually Kellaway's second album, but the first was done for a tiny local label, so this was his debut on the national stage, produced by Jack McDuff's guiding hand Lew Futterman. I can't give you a first-hand response to the music by this "lean, bearded, intent young jazz musician" of 26 (from the liner notes; I was able to find them, but no music), but I wish I could have. It sounds fascinating, from "one of the good tunes penned by Beatles John Lennon and Paul McCartney" to a four-note melody written for "prepared piano," the adaptation of a traditional piano pioneered by John Cage.
No jazz musicians were recording Lennon-McCartney tunes in 1965--in Arthur Taylor's seminal interviews with his peers a few years later, collected as Notes and Tones, the interview subjects are unanimous in dismissing the musical value of the two Beatles' compositions. And certainly none were experimenting with Cage's prepared piano, although Dave Brubeck did record one tune with a modestly prepared instrument, laying copper strips across the strings. Bizarrely, the easy listening piano duo of Ferrante and Teicher did try a number of these experiments during the course of their careers.
Kellaway prepared his piano by "fastening objects to the strings, including washers, nuts, bolts, and wooden pegs. 'The choice of which notes to prepare was purely individual,' Kellaway noted. 'Besides the melody notes I prepared mostly the lower level of the piano.'"
But for now, for me, these experiments remain tantalizingly out of reach. So I turn my attention, instead, to the May and June sessions which comprised Morris Nanton's second of three Prestige albums. and which I was able to listen to.
First, I can't resist quoting a little from Jack McKinney's album cover notes, starting with the "many forces" which shape the identity of the trio: "It is music that evolves from Art Tatum through Oscar Peterson; it has ties to the 'space movement' of Ahmad Jamal ('freedom within form'); in its more reflective moments it becomes an extension of Bill Evans' introspective analysis." But where McKinney really gets going is his of all the things the Nanton trio is not: "These are not cocktail sounds for lifeless zombies pouring more Manhattans into bored executives. They are not forays into obscurity in which erudition becomes an end and confusion a means. They are not essays on the psychotic by the introvert who is playing to magnify his egomania."
Well, thank goodness for that, I guess. The May 13 session consisted of four songs, two of which did not survive the cutting room. Of the two that did, the first is "Mood Indigo," a 6:34 treatment that doesn't exactly follow the melody line or the arrangement suggested by Duke Ellington and Barney Bigard, but which, as it extends further in time and further into its own improvisational world, paradoxically starts to feel more and more Ellingtonian.
"Mood Indigo" is one of the lovelier jazz melodies, and "Taboo" one of the cornier, but Nanton and his guys defy expectations again by giving us a good deal more of melody of "Taboo," also stretched out to six and a half minutes. To what end? It's hard to say. They're certainly not playing to its cocktail-exotica strengths, although there's some of that. They're not hipster-satirizing it either, although there's humor in their version. On one of their Perth Amboy club dates, this would have been a delight--having some fun with a tune you're perhaps a little embarrassed to admit that you recognize so readily, and at the same time giving some real musical depth of exploration to it. On an album--and it's the last tune on side B--it's still a delight.
The June 16 session begins with a blues, "Something We've Got," the only Nanton original, the longest track of the two sessions, the title cut and the leadoff cut for side A of the album. What to say about a blues? One could go with McKinney, once again, and say what it's not: "a listless and hopeless essay on futility." Well, thank goodness for that, I guess. It is a pleasure all the way through, a workout in different moods and tempi by musicians attuned to each other.
Three shorter pieces finish out the session, and the album. "Any Number Can Win" is a moody number by French film composer Michel Magne for the Jean Gabin/Alain Delon gangster flick of the same name. Jimmy Smith had also recorded it. Two songs from the 1930s, Allie Wrubel's "The Masquerade is Over" and George Gershwin's "My Man's Gone Now" (from Porgy and Bess) are also of an appropriate length for a 45 RPM single, but that honor went--and appropriately--to "Something We've Got," split into a part one and part two.
Cal Lampley produced both sessions. The rest of the trio is Norman Edge (bass), who was Nanton's musical partner for over 50 years, and Al Beldini, drummer and vocalist (not here) probably best known for his work with Don Elliott.
