Tad Richards' odyssey through the catalog of Prestige Records:an unofficial and idiosyncratic history of jazz in the 50s and 60s. With occasional digressions.
This was the third and last album that Andy and his sisters made together, and one can't fault them for deciding to go their separate ways, career-wise. They all had artistically rewarding careers, although probably not with the recognition that they all deserved. One can certainly, however, fault the record company executives who passed up the chance to pass up recording this amazing trio -- only three albums in eleven years.
Family harmony groups have made their mark in gospel, in country, in rhythm and blues and soul, but there has never been a family harmony group in jazz like Andy and the Bey Sisters. The Mills Brothers made their contribution to jazz as well as to
pop, but there were none that I can recall with the modern phrasing and sensibility of the three Beys. Add the close, supportive feeling of a family group to the dangerous edginess of the modern sound, and you have something unique.
They start out with "Tammy," from the folksy-corny movie of the same name with Debbie Reynolds. I should probably turn in my hipster credentials for saying this, but I love the melody of "Tammy." It was written by Hollywood jinglemasters Ray Evans and Jay Livingston, and I think it's one of the most beautiful melodies to come out of 1950s pop. But it is simple, it is a little naive, and while what the Beys do with it is edgy and interesting, it may be a little more than the melody can bear.
But then they get something they can sink their teeth into, Ray Charles's "Hallelujah, I Love Her So." With gospel's deep tradition of family harmony, Charles's sensual overlay, and their own contemporary arrangement, they come bursting out, riding Kenny Burrell's guitar and Andy's piano to a thrilling treatment of this rhythm and blues classic. Remarkably, they distance themselves from Ray by taking it almost completely out of the church, and they make it work.
"Everybody Loves My Baby" takes this Spencer Williams anthem of the Roaring Twenties and moves from a scatted intro by Andy into three-part harmony that notches another decade on the Beys' scorecard. "Round Midnight" reaches into a totally different world, that of Thelonious Monk, and drawe it too into the Beys' world, with the harmonies, the Burrell guitar, and some lovely solo parts by Andy.
And I could go on. Every track on this album is a new delight. Each of them gets a solo turn, as they prepare to launch into three solo careers--each of them tintroducing her or himself on the "Love Melody" that came from the second session but became the first track of the album -- Salome on "Love is Just Around the Corner," Geraldine on "I Love You," Andy on "Love You Madly."
Few swan song albums have done it better.
Cal Lampley produced. 'Round Midnight was the album title. There were no 45 RPM singles from either session, which is a bit of a surprise, given that Prestige always did well with vocals.
Andy Bey's work with his sisters occupies a very small part of a long and legendary career (which is not over yet). It covers three albums, one with RCA Victor in 1961 and two with Prestige, and some television appearances, so we have some live work by the trio available on video. But it's an important part of his legacy--and that of Salome and Geraldine Bey, who also went on to have distinguished, if very different, careers.
We'll start with the sisters. Salome, born and raised in Newark, moved to Canada shortly after the trio broke up, and made a life and a career there. She came to be known as "Canada's First Lady of the Blues," and she was all that and more. She appeared on Broadway in Your Arms too Short to Box with God and received a Grammy nomination for the
original cast album; and her own show, Indigo, a celebration of the history of black music, won a Dora Mavor Moore Award, honouring theatre, dance and opera productions in Toronto. Her appearances at the Montreux Jazz Festival were captured in a live album and on video--check out this stirring performance at Montreux of Billy Taylor's "I Wish I Knew How it Would Feel to be Free." After her death in 2020, she was honored on a Canadian postage stamp.
I've written about Geraldine Bey de Haas and her husband before, but I'm going to quote it here again, because it's such a significant story in the history of jazz'
if you are from Chicago, and a jazz fan, you quite likely have heard of the deHaases, for the music and civic involvement that they gave to the City of the Big Shoulders. When they retired in 2103, because of health problems, to go and live with family in New Jersey, here's a part of the tribute columnist Howard Reich of the Chicago Tribune gave to "two artists who have been central to jazz here for nearly half a century":
It was Geraldine de Haas, after all, who led many like-minded spirits in creating the first Duke Ellington celebration concert in Grant Park, in 1974, just after the master's death. The event proved so successful that it became an annual soiree, paving the way for the emergence of the Chicago Jazz Festival in 1979 and setting the stage for all the other city-sponsored music fests that followed.
When de Haas launched her campaign to stage the aforementioned Ellington tribute in Grant Park, she faced widespread resistance, even from fellow jazz musicians.
"The South Side musicians were talking about doing (the Ellington homage) on the South Side of Chicago" in Washington Park, recalls de Haas. "My suggestion was: 'Why don't you do it in the main park (downtown)? Duke Ellington was so important to all of us.'"
"(But) the black musicians were conditioned to think one way, and the white musicians were conditioned another away. They never thought about getting everyone to participate. … I was emphatic about that.
"They said: 'If you can get it, good luck.'"
Geraldine got it, in spite of resistance from the city parks commissioners, whom one has to assume were white. They told her there had been riots the last time they tried to hold a jazz concert. Riots? Jazz? It turned out they were talking about Sly and the Family Stone.
But if Geraldine wanted to give jazz to the whole city, "bringing jazz to a major downtown setting – and therefore bringing black, white and others together in a dramatic way that reflected both the cross-racial appeal of the music and the unifying characteristics of Ellington's art," she didn't forget the South Side either, creating a new and successful festival, "Jazz Comes Home," in 1981. In her words, again quoted by Reich,
"It was time to expose the music to the young people" where they lived, says de Haas. "The legacy left by a lot of African-American musicians – they needed to know about it. That was one of my missions in Chicago."
Andy Bey is still performing, into his eighties. After a meteoric career as a young man, with and then without his sisters, he slipped into obscurity, never stopped performing, was rediscovered, and is now a living legend, widely considered to be among the first rank of jazz singers. He and his sisters made two LP records for Prestige, so I'll have more to say about him next time. But let's get on to the music.
What became one album, Now! Hear!, was recorded in two sessions, three days apart, with Jerome Richardson the only musician to play both sessions. I don't know the reason for the change. Perhaps producer Cal Lampley, was dissatisfied with the first group (he needn't have been -- they are wonderful). Perhaps, new to Prestige, he decided he wanted a younger, hipper sound. All the musicians on the second date represent a different generation from the first group. Perhaps it was just a scheduling conflict. At any rate, it's not cause for complaints. Each group brings a distinctive and satisfying sound. And in any case, the focus is on the Beys, and their tight sound. In any musical field, from country to doo wop to jazz, there is something distinctive about a family harmony group. Andy recognized this from a vantage point of half a century, as he told Chris Slawecki in a 2020 interview for All About Jazz:
I was doing things with my sisters that I'm still doing somewhat, in terms of the tempo and in terms of the rhythmic attack we used to use. I used to sing the lower part, having the male voice. We have a family sound, we basically all sound the same. Like the Cole family, him and his brothers sound basically the same when they sang. They're not identical, but you can hear that family sound.
You can certainly hear that family sound on Buddy Johnson's "Since I Fell for You." The tune was written for his sister Ella, but the group harmony possibilities of it were quickly realized by a number of doowop groups, most notably the Harpton. Andy's Nat Cole-influenced piano anchors this one, with some wonderful guitar fills by Barry Galbraith.
"Willow Weep for Me" provides a good introduction to the second group, with particularly notable work by Richardson and drummer Osie Johnson, and again those family harmonies.
It's good that the Beys went their separate ways. Each of them had a distinctive and important career, contributing so much to American music. But it's also really good that they did this work, and recorded this work, together,
Prestige released two 45 RPM singles. each featuring one song from each session. "Willow Weep For Me" / "Quiet Nights Of Quiet Stars," and the second was "A Taste Of Honey" / "Besame Mucho."
