“Jazz Me Blues” by Wild Bill Davison and His Commodores [1945]

Even as bebop was gaining momentum in the 1940s, early styles of “hot” dixieland jazz were experiencing something of a resurgence. Cornetist Wild Bill Davison was one of the better white band leaders in the ’40s, and had strong professional relationships with other greats of the “hot” jazz revival: Eddie Condon (especially), George Brunies, Pee Wee Russell, and even Sidney Bechet among them. In mid January 1945, Davison made this recording of the standard “Jazz Me Blues” for the Commodore label. Take a look here at both the musicians Davison was working with in the mid ’40s and the repertoire of standards in Davison’s sets at the time.

“Little Wig” by Roy Porter’s 17 Beboppers [1949]

When drummer Roy Porter arrived in Los Angeles in 1944, he was surprised at how “jumpin’” the city’s jazz scene was. Up and down Central Avenue, the city’s jazz community flourished in the 1930s and ’40s, partly because of the steady stream of newcomers like Porter. Porter’s star rose rapidly as caught the rising tide of bebop. Throughout 1946 he backed Charlie Parker (and recorded the tracks “Ornithology” and “Yardbird Suite,” among others). By 1948 had his own band and Savoy had come calling for a four-side session. Often loaded with Benzedrine (“bennies”—an early euphoric stimulant) in this period, Porter and his big bebop band recorded two sessions in early 1949. “Little Wig” comes from the second session, recorded February 23rd.

Have a listen and take a trip back to the amphetamine-driven bebop culture of late 1940s Central Avenue in Los Angeles. Get more in depth by reading Roy Porter’s autobiography There and Back (the source for my short paragraph above) and get ahold of the box set Central Avenue Sounds: Jazz in Los Angeles (1921-1956) (which is where this recording can be found).

“Where Did You Sleep Last Night” by Lead Belly [1944]

“Where Did You Sleep Last Night” (most commonly under the title “In the Pines”) stands as one of the most enduring songs in the American folk tradition. Surviving—no, thriving—through dozens of stylistic changes, the song has been sung and recorded under various titles from at least the 1870s. Most listeners in their 20s and 30s recognize it from Nirvana’s live MTV Unplugged show and subsequent album. This Lead Belly recording for the Musicraft label in 1944 is the one that inspired Cobain’s version. See this 1994 New York Times article for an in depth history of the song.

“I’ll Look Around” by Billie Holiday [1947]

A gorgeous love song sung by Lady Day? Yes please.

“Christmas Island” by The Andrews Sisters [1946]

Here’s a fun little tune by the Andrews Sisters about spending Christmas on tropical Christmas Island in the eastern Indian Ocean. With cold weather nowhere in sight in much of the U.S., it almost feels like a tropical Christmas. I’m home in Minnesota and I will only need a sweater on this sunny Christmas Eve day. (This song came back in a big way when Bob Dylan covered it on his infamous Christmas in the Heart in 2009.)

Merry Christmas wherever you are!

“Too Darn Hot” by Eddie Sledge, Lorenzo Fuller, and Fred Davis [1948]

This Cole Porter classic from the 1948 musical Kiss Me Kate sums up the feelings of much of the country today. I just biked home from work through a swampy 115 heat index. For those of you who have no clue about US geography, no, Minnesota does not still have snow on the ground and yes, it actually gets hot here in the summer!

“I’ve Just Told Mama Goodbye” by Hank Williams [1949]

Saturday was difficult. My father and I were so busy at the auction that it didn’t occur to me until we were in the room with her that visiting my grandma in the nursing home that evening would be the last time I would see her.

It’s one thing to say goodbye to an elderly family member knowing it might be the last time you see that person alive (as happened with my grandfather when my fiancee and I visited them for their 60th wedding anniversary last September). It’s quite another to look a loved one in the eye as you both realize it’s the last time—ever—that you’ll see one another. My grandmother’s body was just a wisp, but I’ll never forget that last hug. We made it a good one, despite the tears.

With Mother’s Day quickly approaching, this blue Hank Williams tune is almost too appropriate. For her own peace and freedom from pain, part of me hopes my grandmother doesn’t make it to Mother’s Day.

(I realize this isn’t exactly what my follower’s signed up for, but this blog is also a personal outlet. Thanks for bearing with me through both the exciting and the difficult times.)

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“Oh, But I Do” by Margaret Whiting [1946]

Random Music History Song of the Day

Margaret Whiting died on Monday. I posted this in October, 2009, but as the rest of the original post explains, timeless music is timeless. That is true even after the performer passes away.

Margaret Whiting’s success was almost assured, being as she was the daughter of Richard Whiting (writer of “Ain’t We Got Fun” and “On the Good Ship Lollipop” among other songs) and a young acquaintance of her fathers’ friend Johnny Mercer, the founder of Capitol Records. Mercer signed young Margaret Whiting to his fresh new label without delay in 1942. In 1946, Margaret Whiting had only recently begun recording as a solo artist after spending the later War years as the featured female singer for a number of big bands.

Before the 1960s, when the trend of folk and rock musicians writing their own songs took off, pop artists searched for well-written songs in any number of places. Among the most important source pop singers looked to for music to record was musical theater (be it Broadway, Hollywood, or elsewhere). Margaret Whiting boosted her fledgling solo career when she recorded “Oh, But I Do,” a song taken from the 1946 Warner Brothers backstage musical film The Time, The Place and the Girl. Although the run-of-the-mill plot kept the film from becoming a classic, the Arthur Schwartz (music) / Leo Robin (lyrics) score held two superb songs: this and “A Rainy Night in Rio.”

Now I realize that for many people in my generation worthwhile pop music begins with either 50s rock & roll or the British Invasion (or maybe even punk or later). Although the style was quite different, there is a treasure trove of great music from the first half of the 20th century that is worth looking into. Arthur Schwartz as a songwriter and Margaret Whiting as a singer are both highly recommended!

“What Are You Doing New Year’s Eve” by Dick Haymes and Les Paul [1947]

Frank Loesser is most famous for writing the music for Guys and Dolls. He also wrote two classic winter/holiday songs. No doubt you all have heard some version of the (sometimes creepy) song “Baby, It’s Cold Outside,” which Loesser wrote in the mid-’40s, but which was not recorded until 1949.

In 1947 Loesser composed another great holiday tune, “What Are You Doing Doing Year’s Eve.” That holiday season saw at least five big name singers release the song as a single. None of them charted, as far as I can tell, but two of them are pretty decent recordings. I had trouble deciding between the two best, but the presence of Les Paul gave Dick Haymes the edge over Margaret Whiting. The first version to fare well on the chart was by the African-American vocal group The Orioles.

Happy new year everyone! I am seeing the seventh Harry Potter film this afternoon, then going to a small party with friends for the night. What are you doing New Year’s Eve?

“Blues” (live) by Jazz at the Philharmonic feat. J.J. Johnson, Illinois Jacquet, Nat “King” Cole, and Les Paul [1944]

Music history is full of significant characters who never played or sang a note of music. Our recent focus on 1944 leads us now to shine the spotlight on Norman Granz, one of the most important jazzmen who never performed (though it’s easy to say he could improvise with the best). Almost everything about Jazz at the Philharmonic was novel, from its initial “high art” location to Granz’s foresight that live recordings of jazz jam sessions would have a market.

From an obituary about Granz:

[Granz] instituted the famous Jazz At The Philharmonic concerts, launched and ran four record labels, including one of the most significant imprints in jazz, Verve Records, and managed the careers of two of its most widely known performers, Ella Fitzgerald and Oscar Peterson. 

In the process, he became jazz’s first official millionaire, a fact held against him in some quarters. At the same time, he fought tirelessly on behalf of both his artists and audiences, demanding the same treatment for jazz musicians as accorded to classical performers, and refusing to book his JATP tours into segregated concert halls in the 1940s, long before the major civil rights breakthroughs of subsequent decades. 

Granz was of Ukranian-Jewish descent. His family had lost their business in the Depression, and he worked his way through college, then joined MGM as a film editor after his wartime military service. His passion was jazz, and he began a long involvement with the music by persuading Billy Berg, a well-known Los Angeles club owner, to allow him to promote a jam session at his club, the Trouville, on Sunday nights. One of the conditions he imposed was that Berg abandon entirely his whites-only audience policy. 

The jam session proved very popular, and set the mould for most of what would follow. Granz took the idea a step further when he booked the Philharmonic Hall for a concert in July 1944, which was also a big success. The rather stuffy venue, the home of the Los Angeles Philharmonic, soon evicted the noisy jazz types, but Granz retained the name for the most successful jazz touring show of the era. His JATP packages crisscrossed America for over a decade, ceasing only with the advent of the rock and roll era in 1957 (he continued to promote tours under that name in Europe into the 1960s). 

The formula was simple, but also revolutionary. The artists would operate in the free-wheeling but competitive jam session ethos fostered in after-hours clubs, but would perform in a formal concert hall, and to a desegregated audience. If these conditions were not met, Granz would refuse to accept bookings (regardless of loss of revenue), and even went as far as cancelling a sold-out show in New Orleans because the audience had been segregated. 

On stage (and in the studio), Granz encouraged the musicians to grandstand as much as their hearts desired. Musical “battles” were not only encouraged, but were positively mandatory. Critics (a breed for which Granz had only disdain) complained that much of this was crass, and with some justification, but Granz looked after his musicians in a fashion unprecedented in jazz, and audiences revelled in what he had to offer. 

“Blues” exemplifies everything Granz desired from his new project and was immediately recognized as the highlight of the first show. Make sure you listen at least to the 9:00 mark, when Nat “King” Cole and Les Paul trade twos in a lighthearted competition.