Showing posts with label Jimmy Neeley. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Jimmy Neeley. Show all posts

Wednesday, January 08, 2020

Listening to Prestige 446: Etta Jones

Etta Jones is back, with the same rhythm section that accompanied Betty Roché on her January 24 session for Prestige, and why not? These guys had demonstrated that they knew how to work with a girl singer, and Etta, I'm guessing, must have been very easy to work with, and a very professional singer, because she got a lot accomplished in a session -- a dozen songs in this one.

And she had material left over from her last session, in September, so six of the songs from this session were bundled with five songs from that one to make her next release, Something Nice. The rest of the September session had to wait until 1963 for Hollar!, when those songs were packaged with...five more songs from this session. The titles suggest
two different concept albums, one sweet and one wild, and that does seem to have been the logic. As I've said, making the decisions about what goes on what album, and gets released when, is way above my pay grade.

You can hear a lot of other singers in Jones's voice -- there's some Billie, there's some Dinah. Those are the main two, but maybe a little Sarah, and everyone was influenced by Ella. That was the style of the day, and it was a golden era for female jazz singers. So Jones makes the right choice, I believe, when she doesn't force herself to try to be different. She accepts her influences gratefully and graciously, and she uses them to create a sound that is wonderfully listenable. whether it's familiar standards or songs that don't get recorded all that often. She is, ultimately, her own singer, and why she isn't numbered among the first ladies of jazz is beyond me.

"And Maybe You'll Be There," the first song off the session to be placed on Something Nice, falls somewhere in between, on the scale of popularity. It hasn't been covered as much as, say, "Laura," but it certainly hasn't been ignored, either. Written by Rube Bloom with lyrics by Sammy Gallop, it's a good song to sing, and some good singers have done it, including Billie Holiday, Lee Wiley, June Christy, Dakota Staton. Frank Sinatra has recorded it, and a couple of marvelous and underrated doowop singers, Lee Andrews and the Five Keys' Rudy West. Even Bob Dylan.

Here's one more interesting comparison: Betty Roché recorded the same song, just couple of months earlier, with exactly the same musicians.

The musicians approach each session differently. Jimmy Neeley takes the lead for the Roché version, Wally Richardson for Jones.  Roché takes a more theatrical approach, and by that I don't mean grand gestures, I mean she does more to create a persona, the forlorn lover who can't help looking for something she knows she'll never find, and so is constantly torn. The quintet gives her space for little pauses of self-doubt, finds equivalents for the restraint which that self-doubt imposes. Jones sings the song, her engagement more with the melody and the musicality, and the musicians play to that.

I'm very glad we have both versions. I spent a lot of time on this song, a lot more than I'd expected, and when I got back to Etta Jones's version again at the end, it still sounded wonderful.

Composer Rube Bloom deserves a little mention. He had his share of hits as a songwriter, including "Fools Rush In" and "Give Me the Simple Life," and he had his moments as a piano player, working with Bix Beiderbecke and Frankie Trumbauer, and leading a group called Rube Bloom and his Bayou Boys, which included such bayou denizens as Benny Goodman and Tommy Dorsey. Bloom also wrote the music for "Fools Rush In," which, with Johnny Mercer lyrics, has been a staple for pop singers, jazz singers, country singers and Elvis Presley.

"My Heart Tells Me," a Harry Warren tune with lyrics by Mack Gordon, is from a Betty Grable movie, and it can fall prey to a little over-sweetness of rendition, but not the way Jones does it. With a powerful assist from Michael Mulia and Jimmy Neeley, she swings it hard. The tune has an interesting history, in that during the war, a version was made by Glenn Miller lyrics sung in German by Johnny Desmond. This was broadcast over the American Broadcasting Station in Europe, a station set up to broadcast hopeful news to Resistance fighters and demoralizing messages to German troops. Gordon also wrote the lyrics to "Through a Long and Sleepless Night," music by Alfred Newman, also from a movie. Neither of these songs have been widely recorded, but both worth a listen from Jones. "Love is the Thing" is also pretty obscure, and also written by movie composers--Ned Washington and Victor Young-- although not, apparently, for a movie.

"Till There Was You" was the hit ballad from the hit Meredith Willson musical, The Music Man, just winding up its 4-year run on Broadway as Jones took the tune to Englewood Cliffs, so that star Robert Preston could head for Hollywood to make the movie version, which was also a hit. This was the breakout romantic ballad from the show, and it became a Top Forty hit for Anita Bryant. But its biggest success was yet to come: in 1963, when the Beatles included it on their first American album. Jones keeps the sweetness of the song, but adds just enough jazzy tartness to make it interesting. "Till There Was You" was also the 45 RPM single from the session, along with "All the Way" from her first Prestige outing.

"Give Me the Simple Life" (Rube Bloom again, with Harry Ruby) led off the March 30 session, and found its way into the groove of the uptempo swingers that make up Hollar! This kind of easy but forceful swing is most associated with Ella Fitzgerald, although she wouldn't record "Simple Life" until several years later. Jones can hold her head up proudly at a comparison with Ella--she swings it, with considerable help from Michael Mulia and a "Peter Gunn"-type walking bass.

"Looking Back" is a soulful blues from the pens of two songwriters equally at home in blues and pop, and this song has found success in both genres, and in country as well. Originally a hit for Nat "King" Cole in 1958, it was covered by country crooner Ferlin Husky in 1959, and later by Marty Robbins, Conway Twitty, and rockabilly Gene Vincent. Soul versions have been recorded by Mary Wells, Roy Hamilton, Carla Thomas, the Chambers Brothers, Otis Rush, Irma Thomas, and Johnny Adams. Jazz singers Nancy Wilson, Julie London and Ruth Brown have all recorded it. The soul singers, in particular, could have learned a lot from Jones' soulful interpretation, with great assists from Neeley and Rudy Lawless.

The songwriters were Brook Benton, no slouch as a pop and soul balladeer himself, and Clyde Otis, whose entry into the music business is one of those storybook tales. As a young marine, he became friends with fellow jarhead Bobby Troup (“Route 66”)—these were the days after President Truman had integrated the armed forces. Troup encouraged his songwriting, so after he’d mustered out, he moved to New York, where he spent the better part of a decade knocking on doors, piling up rejections, and driving a cab. One evening, he caught a fare who was going to a party given by a well-known music publisher, and he persuaded the passenger to give the publisher a song.

Reel to reel? There were no cassettes in those days. But anyway, the song was “That’s All There Is to That,” and it became a Top Twenty hit for Nat “King” Cole. Within two years, Otis was the first African American A&R executive with Mercury Records. He is credited with over 800 published songs. His work with Brook Benton yielded several hits for Benton singly and in duets with Dinah Washington in addition to “Looking Back.”

“And the Angels Sing,” by Ziggy Elman and Johnny Mercer, is another song like “Give Me the Simple Life,” made to be swung. Additionally, it has a lot of lyrics (“Suddenly the setting is strange / I can see moonlight beaming / silver waves that break on some undiscovered shore”) which require a very good singer to make them make sense, carry the emotion, and keep swinging. This takes some serious musicianship combined with some serious intelligence. And she does it all in two and a half minutes, which includes a most satisfying solo by Wally Richardson.

“Answer Me My Love” was originally a German song by Fred Rauch and Gerhard Winkler. A close English translation by Carl Sigman, a prolific lyricist, began “Answer me, my Lord,” and had the singer questioning why God had stolen his sweetie, but even when recorded by Frankie Laine, who was no stranger to addressing God (“I Believe”), it didn’t take off. Sigman tried again, and Laine had better success with the new secular version, although the big hit was Nat “King” Cole’s. Love was a good fallback theme for a song in those days. “Let Me Go, Devil,” was a song about an individual in the clutches of alcoholism, but when it was redone as “Let Me Go, Lover,” it became a number one hit for Joan Weber, a top ten hit for both Patti Page and Teresa Brewer, and a charted record for several other singers.
The tempo of “Answer Me My Love” may have been more suited to Something Nice” than Hollar!, but it’s nice to have it wherever.
“Reverse the Charges,” by Paul Francis Webster and Clarence Williams, seems not to have made much of a mark in spite of the pedigree of its composers. It was the B side of a 1946 78 RPM single by the Velvetones, a vocal harmony group in the style of the Ink Spots or the Mills Brothers. A nice save out of the remainder bin of pop history by Miss Jones, and a nice recording.

Tuesday, November 26, 2019

Listening to Prestige 432: Betty Roché

This is a Session of the Lost. The rhythm section is the same two guys who played with Jimmy Neeley on his one session as leader for Prestige, of which I can find no trace, although they were fine musicians. Bassist Michael Mulia played on one other Prestige session, for Etta Jones.

Rudy Lawless was one of that group of guys who grew up together in Harlem's Sugar Hill--the group that included Jackie McLean, Sonny Rollins and Art Taylor. His credits included stints with Andy Kirk, Blue Mitchell, Hank Jones and Roy Eldridge.

 Al Sears and Willie Dixon, and we'll see him again later in the decade with a successful fusion album.
Wally Richardson made two albums for Prestige, with

 Betty Roché, who did some important work with Ellington and got deserved acclaim for it. managed her own disappearing act, never recording again after this session. I've written more about her on-again, mostly off-again career in my entry on her first Prestige album.

The Ellington work, especially her two recordings of "Take the A Train," remains the benchmark of her career, and of this second Prestige album I can find only two cuts, "Polka Dots and Moonbeams" and "I Had the Craziest Dream," although it shouldn't be that obscure. It did get a CD release on Original Jazz Classics.

They are gems. "Polka Dots and Moonbeams," with melody by Jimmy Van Heusen, known for light but tuneful pop fare ("High Hopes," "The Tender Trap," "All the Way") and lyrics by Johnny Burke, is probably not all that familiar to the casual pop music fan, but it's become much beloved by jazz singers and jazz musicians, with over 300 versions. It's a musician's song, and Roché makes the most of it.

She should be more remembered. She should have done more to make herself more remembered. But listen to her "Polka Dots and Moonbeams." You'll love it.


Listening to Prestige Vol. 2, 1955-56, and Vol. 3, 1957-58 now include, in the Kindle editions, links to all the "Listen to One" selections. All three volumes available from Amazon.


Listening to Prestige Vol. 4 is now in preparation!


The most interesting book of its kind that I have ever seen. If any of you real jazz lovers want to know about some of the classic records made by some of the legends of jazz, get this book. LOVED IT.
– Terry Gibbs






Sunday, November 24, 2019

Listening to Prestige 430: Willis Jackson

Willis Jackson came to Prestige in 1959 with his longtime bandmates Jack McDuff and Bill Jennings. They had been playing the genre of jazz often dismissed as rhythm and blues, but with the cachet of the Prestige label, their music was now called mainstream jazz, and soon, soul jazz.  By 1961, McDuff had gone out on his own, and was on his way to becoming one of the biggest stars on the Prestige label, forming a one-two organ punch with Shirley Scott. Bill Jennings would continue to play off and on with Jackson, creating a guitar sound that would deeply influence a future generation of guitarists, but would never win him stardom in his own career.

This was Jackson's first session with neither of his old cohorts, but he's still the same Gator, playing pretty for the people, and absorbing some lessons from his rhythm and blues years, when you played tunes that could fit on a 78, later 45, RPM record, and would get play on jukeboxes. The tunes could be long enough to fit on both sides of 45, like Bill Doggett's "Honky Tonk" or Cozy Cole's "Topsy," but mostly they weighed in at under three and a half minutes. He does have a couple of six-minute songs here (by the album standards of the day, still short), but most of the cuts come in around four minutes. The other lesson was pay attention to tunes and hooks. Give people something to respond to quickly.

These aren't the only criteria for making good music. In the age of Ornette Coleman, they might even have seemed a little quaint. But Jackson used them wisely and skillfully, and if he didn't make Down Beat's polls, nor is he remembered widely by today's jazz aficionados (did not make ranker.com's list of 200 greatest saxophonists of all time; by contrast, Jack McDuff  is #16 on their organist list), he nevertheless made music that is beautiful, soulful, earthy, danceable, and well worth your nickel in the jukebox.

This session featured Jimmy Neeley on piano. Neeley, whose name was also spelled Neely from time to time, had visited Englewood Cliffs before at Prestige's behest: the previous December, he had led a
trio in a session that was released on Prestige's short-lived budget label Tru-Sound. And he might have had a longer history with the label; he worked with blues singer H-Bomb Ferguson, who recorded for Prestige in the early days, but as with a lot of vocalist recordings, the session musicians weren't noted. He played with rhythm and blues/jazz artists Mickey Baker and Red Prysock, and wit Roy Eldridge.

Gus Johnson had recorded for Prestige with Coleman Hawkins, Lem Winchester, Taft Jordan and Willie Dixon. Wendell Marshall was one of their most often-used bassists of the era, and Juan Amalbert was the leader of the Latin Jazz Quintet.

Benny Golson's "I Remember Clifford" had already become a standard since its first appearance on record, performed by Donald Byrd and Gigi Gryce. Jackson treats it with the love you'd appropriately give to a classic. He does the same with "Careless Love," here credited to W. C. Handy, although it's an old folk blues which predates Handy. He has a few of his own tunes, a couple from other sources. "Again," by Lionel Newman, was introduced by Ida Lupino in the film noir cult favorite, Road House. "Girl of My Dreams" was the only hit for Charles "Sunny" Clapp, who led a territorial band, mostly in Texas, in the 1930s. And I think my favorite tunes on the album are the two composed by Johnny Griffin: "Oatmeal" and "Sweet Peter Charleston," featuring some hot blowing by the Gator, and some tasty work by Amalbert and Neeley.

The album was Really Groovin', which also featured one track from a different session and with a different band. "Careless Love" and the Jackson composition "He Said, She Said, I Said" (two more favorites) were the 45 pm single. One tune from session, "Estrellita," was held back for a later Moodsville album, In My Solitude. Esmond Edwards produced.

Listening to Prestige Vol. 2, 1955-56, and Vol. 3, 1957-58 now include, in the Kindle editions, links to all the "Listen to One" selections. All three volumes available from Amazon.

Volume 4 is in preparation now!

The most interesting book of its kind that I have ever seen. If any of you real jazz lovers want to know about some of the classic records made by some of the legends of jazz, get this book. LOVED IT.
– Terry Gibbs