Listening to Prestige 545: Buddy Lucas

LISTEN TO ONE: Hocus Pocus

Tru-Sound, Bob Weinstock's "modern rhythm and blues" label, was not one of his more successful ventures, although it did hang on until 1963, when Weinstock folded most of his subsidiary labels (Bluesville and New Jazz hung around another year). But there weren't that many releases, and most of them--certainly the most successful--were by King Curtis. Buddy Lucas was one of the last artists to sign with the label, and if Weinstock was looking for a genuine rhythm and blues professional, he had come to the right man. Lucas had been recording R&B since joining Wynonie Harris in 1950, and had started recording with his own combo for Jubilee Records in 1951. An early two-sided hit for Jubilee set the pattern for his 78

RPM singles: a ballad on one side and an uptempo, honking blues on the other. That he was prized for both can be demonstrated by two of the biggest hits he played on: Frankie Lymon and the Teenagers' "Why Do Fools Fall In Love" and Little Anthony and the Imperials' "Tears on My Pillow." He was one of the most in-demand session men for rhythm and blues and rock and roll throughout the decade, and into the 1960s. Around the same time that he recorded this album for Tru-Sound, he played one of his best-known tenor sax solos, on Dion's "The Wanderer."

The 1960s also saw him getting calls for jazz recordings, with Clark Terry, Seldon Powell, Illinois Jacquet, Jack McDuff and others, one of the most unusual being free jazz pioneer Albert Ayler, on New Grass, an album Ayler made for Impulse! to show that he had a more poppish, commercial side, not entirely successfully. Unusually for a saxophone player, Lucas also doubled on the harmonica. He recorded on that instrument with King Curtis, Lou Donaldson, Thad Jones (also jaw harp), Yusef Lateef, Johnny Hodges, George Benson and many others. A number of female singers used his harmonica sound, including Laura Nyro, Aretha Franklin, Roberta Flack, and, most notably, Nina Simone on her recording of "Since I Fell For You." He was even called in to overdub a harmonica part on a posthumous Jimi Hendrix recording.

Lucas recorded his Tru-Sound albums over two Englewood Cliffs sessions in March and April. He

surrounded himself with good players for his first dates as a leader with a jazz label that had prestige in more than just its name, and some remarkable singers. Wally Richardson, Bob Bushnell and Herbie Lovelle were Prestige veterans. Al Williams (piano for the March 31 session) had been playing professionally since the 1930s; his resume included Henry "Red" Allen, Buck Clayton and Johnny Hodges. Robert "Bobby" Banks's career stretched from 1950s to the 1980s; during the period of this recording and through much of the decade he worked with Solomon Burke. He replaced Williams on piano for the  the April 22 session. Carl Lynch was one of New York's most sought-after session guitarists from the 1940s through the 1970s. one of the mainstays of Phil Spector's sound, and featured on such anthemic recordings as James Brown's "Say It Loud (I'm Black and I'm Proud)" and Nina Simone's "Young, Gifted and Black." 

Both sessions were logged in as Buddy Lucas and the Shouters, but the Shouters, Lucas's vocal trio, were only there for the April 22 date. They were three girl singers better known in those days as members of Cissy Houston's vocal group, the Sweet Inspirations. One of them, Sylvia Shemwell, remained with the Inspirations as they backed up Aretha Franklin and Elvis Presley, among others. The other went on to solo careers. They were a pair of sisters named Warwick -- DeeDee and Dionne.

The Tru-Sound release was titled Down Home Turn Around. It was also released on Prestige's budget label, Status, as That's the Blues Man. Two 45 RPM singles came from the session, "Hocus Pokus" / "Show Down" and "Down Home Turnaround" / "April Showers."

Listening to Prestige 532: Etta Jones

LISTEN TO ONE: Just Friends

 

LISTEN TO ONE: The Masquerade is Over

Etta Jones probably hit her peak of popularity with Don't Go to Strangers and Something Nice. Scott Yanow, in his review on AllMusic, describes this album as "a too-long-forgotten gem," and Jones herself could easily be described that way. She doesn't make UDiscover.com's list of the 25 greatest female jazz singers, compiled by critic Charles Waring representing a younger generation (although Etta James and Norah Jones do). The voters for Ranker.com, who I suspect are mostly younger, have her at number 24 on the day I checked (this is an ongoing vote, and can change), just ahead of Norah Jones, but considerably behind Etta James. Fortunately, she continued to work, and record companies continued to want her musical stylings, right in the mainstream of vocal jazz and always rewarding. She would do four more recording sessions with Prestige, and she would continue to tour, and perform, and record, her last session (a tribute to Billie Holiday) coming just months before her death from cancer in 2007;

Oliver Nelson was back again with her, arranging two different sessions on two days, the first with strings and the second with horns.

The rhythm section was the same for both dates. Pianist Lloyd Mayers had worked one previous Prestige session, in 1956 with Bennie Green; he would become, in 1981, the pianist and musical director for the Duke (by then Mercer) Ellington Orchestra for the Broadway musical Sophisticated Ladies. Wally Richardson had become an active Prestige participant, appearing with vocalist Betty Roché and with several instrumentalists, most recently Johnny "Hammond" Smith just a couple of weeks prior to the Jones date.  Bob Bushnell brought his bass to a King Curtis session in 1961, but as the decade rolled on he would figure in many more Prestige sessions. And drummer Ed Shaughnessy played across a wide spectrum of jazz groups and styles, before settling into the solid payday of Doc Severinsen's Tonight Show Orchestra.

The string section on day one is unidentified; the horn players of the second day are all Oliver Nelson veterans.

The songs are standards, and they justify the album's title. The sardonic "Makin' Whoopee" doesn't

exactly come from the heart, and it's not Jones's most effective outing, although it's still a pleasure to listen to. "You Came a Long Way From St. Louis," by John Benson Brooks and Bob Russell, also has a wry comic touch, but the wryness is mixed with warmth, and that's more in Jones's comfort zone.

Of particular interest is listening to Oliver Nelson arranging for the same singer, on successive days, with strikingly different instrumentation. Of the songs with strings, I was particularly struck by "Just Friends," a standard that's perhaps best defined by Charlie Parker, also with strings, but has been done by many vocalists. Oliver Nelson gives it a particularly arresting arrangement, starting with a sort of "Wagon Wheels" clippety clop opening, that then gets swallowed up by lush strings. 

For the larger group of songs with horns, it was hard to choose, but I think I'll go with "I'm Afraid the Masquerade is Over," a song that's been done by both Ettas, Jones and James, as well as singers from Sarah to Aretha. The definitive male version is probably George Benson's, and the Cleftones gave it a doowop spin. It's a song that allows for a lot of individuality in interpretation, and Jones and Nelson put their stamp on it, for sure.

From the Heart was a Prestige release, Esmond Edwards producing. "You Came a Long Way from St. Louis" was the 45 RPM single, with "Just Friends" on the flip side.

Listening to Prestige 500 - KIng Curtis

LISTEN TO ONE: Honky Tonk

Here's the difference between your jazz critic (or your anything critic) and your average fan. Your critic has heard it all, and he rejects the tired, the trite, the overdone, the same old same old. An album of the most over-played, over-listened to songs in the history of jazz...spare me.

The fan isn't sophisticated enough for that. "Night Train"? "Fever"? "Honky Tonk"? Great shit, man!

Musicians aren't immune, either. Here's a story I've told before, but it's a great story, and it bears retelling. It's Phil Woods's story, and his words. 

I had just graduated from Juilliard in 1952 and was playing at the Nut Club on Seventh Ave. and Sheridan Square in the Village. After all of that great education, here I was playing "Harlem Nocturne" 10 times a night...I wasn’t happy with myself. I was saying to myself, “My god, I’m a Juilliard graduate, and I can play great jazz, and here I am playing "Night Train" and "Harlem Nocturne." I didn’t like my mouthpiece. I didn’t like my reed. I didn’t like my horn. I didn’t even like the strap.

...One night somebody came into the club and said, “Hey, Charlie Parker’s playing across the street. He’s jamming.” ...I was going on my break so I rushed over. When I walked in, there was this 90-year old guy playing a piano that was only three octaves long [laughs]. His father was on drums using a tiny snare and little tiny pie plates for cymbals. And there was the great Charlie Parker—playing the baritone sax. It belonged to Larry Rivers, the painter. Parker knew me. He knew all the kids who were coming up.

...I said, “Mr. Parker, perhaps you’d like to play my alto?” He said, “Phil, that would be great. This baritone’s kicking my butt.” So I ran back across the street to the Nut Club and grabbed the alto sax that I hated. I came back and got on the bandstand, which was about as big as a coffee table. I handed my horn to Bird and he played "Long Ago and Far Away."...As I’m listening to him play my horn, I’m realizing ...nothing was wrong with the reed, nothing was wrong with the mouthpiece—even the strap sounded good. Then Parker says to me, “Now you play.” I said to myself, “My God.” So I did. I played a chorus for him... When I was done, Bird leaned over and said, “Sounds real good, Phil.” This time I levitated over Seventh Avenue to the Nut Club. And when I got back on the bandstand there, I played the shit out of Harlem Nocturne. That’s when I stopped complaining and started practicing. That was quite a lesson.

This  is my 500th entry on Listening to Prestige. That's six years of listening to great jazz and writing about it. Six years of putting a theory to the test--a theory that Peter Jones and I came up with, about the recorded jazz of the 1950s, our formative years...it was all good. We were young and we were learning, and we had those aforementioned critics to go by, and we had limited resources, and we tended to buy the albums that got four and five stars in DownBeat. Can it really all have been good?

Well, I've passed through the 1950s, and I'm two years into the next decade, and I've listened to every single track recorded on a pretty representative indie label, and so far our theory is holding up.

But after 500 recording sessions, and 500 blog entries, you'd think I'd have earned my status as jaded critic, wouldn't you?

But uh-uh. I'm with the average fan on this one. I'm with the guy in the Nut Club who wanted to hear "Night Train" and "Harlem Nocturne." I'm with Phil Woods, after he got schooled by Charlie Parker. Mr. King Curtis...no "Harlem Nocturne," on the September 19th session -- how could he have forgotten it? -- but  he made up for it three days later, with a return to Englewood Cliffs. Definitely "Night Train." And "Fever," and "Tuxedo Junction," and "The Hucklebuck," and..."Honky Tonk."

Billy Butler, who co-composed "Honky Tonk" and played the guitar solo on Bill Doggett's original recording, was a part of King Curtis's band at the point, and he still knew how to wail on this timeless number. He would return to Prestige leading his own group near the end of the decade.

Also on guitar for this session was a youngster, Eric Gale, who would go to become one of the most sought-after studio musicians of the 1960s-70s, playing on over 500 sessions--jazz, funk, pop. He was a member of the funk supergroup Stuff.

Bassist Bob Bushnell was new with Curtis, and new with Prestige. His career actually stretched back to the 1940s when, fresh out of high school, he played a few gigs with Jimmy Heath, but it doesn't seem really to have taken off until the 1960s, when his resume started to fill up with what became really a wide and impressive variety of the biggest names in jazz, blues and rock.

Willie Rodriguez, whose big band credits ranged from Dizzy Gillespie to Stan Kenton to Paul Whiteman, had made his recording debut as leader with a big band of his own in 1960--an album called A Bunch of Bongos.

One of Prestige's stars, Jack McDuff, rounded out the group.

Not quite so well known are "You Came a Long Way From St. Louis," from the 1940s, and "Lean, Baby," from the 1950s.

There were only four songs on the second session, but they were all classics; "Harlem Nocturne," of course. "Soft" had been a hit for Tiny Bradshaw in 1952, "Tippin' In" for Erskine Hawkins in 1945. "So Rare,"dating back to 1937, had been a huge hit for Jimmy Dorsey in 1957, hitting Number One on the charts right after Jimmy's death. Jimmy, a great talent unjustly overshadowed in reputation by his brother, played it sweet; Curtis wails it out.

The album was released on Tru-Sound as Old Gold. A later re-release on Prestige was titled Night Train.