Listening to Prestige 601: Red Holloway

LISTEN TO ONE: Monkey Sho' Can Talk

 Red Holloway first came to Prestige as part of a large ensemble put together by Oliver Nelson for a Gene Ammons session, then appeared on a session with Brother Jack McDuff, with whom he was to remain for several years. But Bob Weinstock liked his stuff, both musically and commercially, enough that he was to bring out four albums with Holloway as leader over the next few years, with an emphasis on "jazz with a beat" -- the liner notes to this album emphasize, a touch melodramatically, that this music has a good beat and you can dance to it.

Although he was born in Arkansas, Holloway was a true musical son of Chicago, where his family moved when he was still in school. He attended DeSable High School, that cradle of jazz education, where one of his classmates was Johnny Griffin. He left Chicago for the army, but returned to

spend his formative years there, playing with a wide range of musicians. He was active in Chicago's blues and rhythm and blues scene, joining Roosevelt Sykes's band, and playing with Chuck Berry, Willie Dixon, Junior Parker, Lloyd Price, and Bobby Bland. He accompanied a range of visiting jazz stars, including Dexter Gordon, Yusef Lateef, Ben Webster, Sonny Rollins, Wardell Gray, and many more. He worked with vocalists -- Billie Holiday, Dakota Staton, Joe Williams, Aretha Franklin. He toured with Sonny Stitt, Memphis Slim, and Lionel Hampton. 

And all of this -- the rhythm and blues, the modern jazz, the entertainers, the soul jazz -- can be heard in Holloway's own sound, making him a good fit for Jack McDuff, and a good bet for recordings under his own name. To quote the teenage record reviewers on Dick Clark's American Bandstand, Holloway's records had a good beat. You could dance to them.

Holloway first brought a group to Rudy Van Gelder's studio on August 27. It was a quiet time (for Prestige, not for Rudy, who rarely had down time) between the two Gildo Mahones sessions, but even so, they did not spend much time with Red. He recorded two tunes, one a standard "Moonlight in Vermont") and one an original ("Miss Judie May"). 

Some of the musicians on this date shared a Chicago connection. Thomas "Tiaz" Palmer worked with a number of Chicago doowop and rhythm and blues groups as well as jazz groups, and in the 1980s would reunite with another ex-Chicagoan, Amina Claudine Myers, for a recording. He also toured and recorded with the Coasters frequently. Trumpeter Hobart Dotson was a music veteran, having been a member of Billy Eckstine's big band in the 1940s. He had also been a stalwart on the Chicago jazz scene, recordint with a number of groups. 

Bob Durham also had his start in doowop, working with the Orioles at 16, He went on to a long and distinguished jazz career, highlighted by an an association with Norman Granz that found him playing with many of Granz's artists, including Oscar Peterson, whose regular drummer he was through much of the 1960s.

But two sides were all that this group cut, and only one of them was used. "Miss Judie May" was shelved, to be recorded again when Holloway convened a completely different group on October 10.

This one was anchored by two Prestige mainstays, Leonard Gaskin on bass and Herbie Lovelle on drums. The other players were all new--and again, relying on his Chicago connections.

Paul Serrano made his mark on the Chicago music scene not only as a trumpeter but also as a recording engineer. After playing with Woody Herman, and appearing on hundreds of recordings for Chess and other Chicago-based record labels, Serrano opened his own South Side P. S.  Recording Studios in 1966. In 1992, as he began to suffer from Parkinson's disease, he closed his studio and went to work for Delmark Records as their head engineer. Ramsey Lewis, who recorded frequently with Serrano, remembered that "being a musician, he knew what the instruments were supposed to sound like." Lewis also recalled Serrano's generosity with musicians who couldn't afford to pay.

Big John Patton, like many organists, started on piano, accompanying Lloyd Price as a teenager. Switching to organ in the 1960s, he cut two records with Lou Donaldson, then served an apprenticeship of sorts with Jimmy Smith, playing tambourine on an early session by the soulmaster. By the middle of the year he was fronting his own group for Blue Note. He became one of their soul jazz stalwarts throughout the decade, then had a resurgence of his career in the 1980s with avant-gardist John Zorn.

This is a very early session for guitarist Eric Gale (he had made his Prestige debut on a King Curtis session), who wouldn't really hit his stride until the 1970s, when he became one of the most sought-after session guitarists around. His recordings with supergroup Stuff are some of the best examples of 1970s jazz-funk.

The album was released on Prestige as The Burner. "Monkey Sho' Can Talk" and "Crib Theme" were the 45 RPM single, the latter a rare composition credit for Ozzie Cadena, who produced both sessions.

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.