January has been a good month for the OPQ. We got a review of our CD Low Contrast in the January issue of Cadence Magazine, where they called the album a “fresh and fun slant on some classic materials”. Also, Jazz Today, a radio show out of the United Kingdom is playing Kathy’s tune My Waltz on their January 26th show. We’re really pumped that the word is getting out on our little album, and if you haven’t checked it out, now’s the time! Check it out here! Special thanks go to Jerome Wilson at Cadence and Pete Butchers at Jazz Today. Thanks for the extra push, guys!
We also had an awesome gig on January 22nd at the Lily Pad. First, Kathy played with Allan Chase’s Baritone Summit. I can honestly say that if you haven’t had your innards scrambled by four bari saxes playing at one time, you have yet to truly live. Audio from that is probably forthcoming on Kathy’s website, but to tide you over, there’s this video I recorded:
For those keeping track at home, the bari sax players were, starting from the left:
and the group also had:
Brian Friedland – piano
Bruno Raberg – bass
Austin McMahon – drums
Second, the OPQ played. The set was a ton of fun, and we had Allan Chase and Ben Whiting sit in with us. Here’s the audio:
Tygart Valley by Kathy Olson
On the DL by Randy Pingrey (Ben Whiting has the first bari solo)
Hide Your Heart from Sight by Kathy Olson (Allan Chase has the first bari solo)
My Waltz by Kathy Olson
Lester’s Lady by Randy Pingrey
The personel for the OPQ was:
Kathy Olson – bari sax
Randy Pingrey – trombone
Mark Zaleski – bass
Austin McMahon – drums
Many apologies for the lack of posts in recent…years. Due to popular demand, I’ll be back at it in the next few months. I couldn’t be more happy with how these recordings came out – Austin, Mark, and Kathy all sound fantastic!
Every solo concert is a learning opportunity, and this one was no different. I found myself going back to little motives over and over again – there was the allure of a certain dominant-to-tonic lick, an odd minor third in the upper register here and there, some fragments of old standards (maybe because it was Valentine’s Day) – and it helped anchor the structure of these improvisations.
Special thanks goes to Derek Beckvold and Andrew Hock for sharing the evening with me – they both did long-form solos which were totally amazing (you can listen to Andrew’s set here). Also, extra special thanks goes to Rob Chalfen for running the Outpost: its casual radicalism makes it one of my favorite places to play.
Recorded on 2/6/11 from 5:01 PM to 5:38 PM in Cambridge, MA.
Thanks to Mark and Austin for being totally amazing to work with and to Rob Chalfen for having us play.
Unfortunately, due to a technical mishap that was entirely the trombonist’s fault, we weren’t able to record the entire performance of the OPQ’s recent hit at the Outpost. Missing from this documentation is the incredibly brave performance Kathy gave on her Blues for Mac, the group’s nuanced reading of Stone Age Rhumba, and the deep, odd-metered pocket of Mark and Austin’s work on Reverie. At least we have something from the gig, and I hope you enjoy the tunes!
Things have been pretty quiet here at Trombonist-at-Large for the past month. That’s something I hope to change very soon! Keep yer’ eyes peeled!
This is the third part of my attempt to document the under-heard tradition of astounding jazz trombone work. The first part of the series is here. The second is here. This installment is a departure from the past: there is less trombone playing (it’s really more of a vocal disk) on this album than the other things I’ve chosen to highlight, but it’s just too good a record for me to ignore here.
Think Well of Me Jack Teagarden
I have a fascination with what happens when great artists get near the end of their run. Late Beethoven string quartets come to mind as the archetypal example, but post-1960’s Lawrence Brown recordings, Johnny Hodges’ performance on “…and his mother called him Bill”, and Eric Dolphy’s last European recordings also fit the bill. This recording, Teagarden’s second to last studio date, is filled with the gravitas which make these things such powerful documents.
The facts: Teagarden went into the studio in January of 1962 and ended up recording 11 songs, most of which were written by under-lauded composer Willard Robinson (best known for Old Folks, which Miles Davis recorded on the Someday My Prince Will Come record). He’s backed by Don Goldie, a trumpeter who played in Teagarden’s last touring ensemble, a rhythm section, and a string orchestra which, in a twist of trombonistic fate, was partially arranged by Bob Brookmeyer.
These songs are totally perfect for Teagarden – the lyrics are equal parts nostalgia, cynicism, and wisdom – and he sings and plays his heart out during the entire disk. Check out the way he sings the bridge to the title track:
The way he sings “forget the past” in that example kills me every time. Teagarden dedicated himself to his art – he sacrificed his health and his finances to be out on the road, and I can’t help but to hear this record as tinged with a little regret over past choices made. He sounds like – and is – an old man looking back on his accomplishments, reflecting on past glory and tragedy. And that’s what I love about artists in the late stages of their career – you can hear something that is impossible to simulate, no matter how many licks you practice in all 12 keys: it’s the grain of his experience rubbing up against our smooth youth.
In a Little Waterfront Cafe:
There is very little improvisation on this disk, but I don’t really miss it – the record is so beautiful as it is, and Teagarden’s occasional melodic trombone statements and Don Goldie’s embellishments add just enough.
I remember when I was a high schooler just getting into jazz, this record was totally unavailable. I wanted to hear it because I was really interested in Bob Brookmeyer (this was when I was still on euphonium – I was interested in hearing every valve trombonist I could in order to see if I had to switch to the slide instrument). I’m glad that I didn’t hear it then, because I think my young ears would have taken one listen to the string orchestra and then would have subsequently dismissed the whole album as commercial shlock (which it might be, although it’s also so much more). It is, happily, available now through MP3 downloads on amazon.com and on Verve’s website. I hope I’ve convinced you to get yourself a copy.
There is an amazing video of Jack Teagarden playing Basin Street Blues in 1963, the year that he died:
It’s a video that gives me goose bumps every time I watch it. In some ways, Teagarden really seems to be phoning in his performance (at this point he’s probably played this arrangement of Basin Street Blues hundreds of times), but you can’t argue with the look in his eyes as he’s singing, or with the effort he tries to hide as he’s playing the trombone. Teagarden was a master!
All compositions are by Randy Pingrey, except for Another Quiet Feeling, which is by Bill Dixon
Recording by James Wylie – Thanks James!
Lots of exciting things are going on here at Trombonist-At-Large headquarters. I’m very, very excited about an upcoming tour that my good friend Jacob Zimmerman has arranged – we will be playing in Cambridge, Manhattan, Philly, Hartford, Brooklyn, and Washington DC. More information is here, on Jacob’s website.
Also, two months from today – on September 18th, the Olson Pingrey Quartet will go into the Rotary Records Studio to record our very first CD. We are busy preparing the music and deciding what to record. We couldn’t have a better, more supporting, rhythm section (thanks Mark and Austin!), and we’re super excited to work with Warren at Rotary Records. Watch this space for more information…
And as a follow-up to the previous post on Dickie Wells, here’s clip on Wells’ later life:
Wells was a jazz giant, and he deserved better. That’s all I have to say about that…
This is the second part of my attempt to document the under-heard tradition of astounding jazz trombone work. The first part of the series is here.
In Paris, 1937
This LP documents a record date that Dicky Wells lead in Paris while he was on a European tour with the Teddy Hill band. A year or two later Wells would join the Count Basie Orchestra and participate in some of the great canonical jazz records with Lester Young, Buck Clayton, and Basie’s All-American rhythm section. Small group dates led by trombone players are incredibly rare in the 30’s, especially if the trombonist isn’t named Jack Teagarden. The entire record features jazz trombone playing of the absolute highest order.
My personal history with Dicky Wells goes back to high school, when I was first discovering jazz. Among the first three jazz recordings I got from the local public library was a Count Basie record that had a few Wells solos (the other two were a Louis Armstrong greatest hits record and a CD of great Fats Waller cuts). My local library also had a copy of Wells’ quasi-autobiography called “Night People” which he narrated to historian Stanley Dance. The ladies that ran the check out counter at Baraboo Public Library certainly got to know me very well over four years of nightly visits to pick up countless held jazz CDs. However, during my college years, I forgot about Wells and focused on more contemporary trombone styles.
Then in grad school, when I told my teacher Anthony Coleman about my frustrations over playing with incredible virtuosic saxophonists, he reminded me of the Herculean task that Dicky Wells faced every night on the bandstand with Count Basie. Night after night, after amazing Lester Young solos, he managed to stand up to play something on the trombone that wasn’t totally forgettable. Something that had integrity. Something that swung. Amazing! Lester Young may have changed the vocabulary of jazz improvisation, but Dicky Wells showed that there was always room for another unique voice to be heard.
This record features a relatively young Dicky Wells totally playing his butt off. I love the infectious enthusiasm of the two opening tracks “Between the Devil and the Deep Blue Sea” (when someone shouts “Yeah!” during the shout chorus, I practically can’t contain myself) and “Bugle Call Rag” (during which Django Reinhardt really lights a fire under the Wells’ solo).
They real centerpiece of the record, though, is “Dicky Wells Blues”, which has to be one of the longest recorded trombone solos before ~1946 (when J.J. Johnson started recording small group sides for Savoy). It’s seven choruses of straight-ahead blues trombone playing, and the documentation of swing trombone style is totally priceless. I’m working on memorizing it right now – I’ve made it through the first chorus, and the rest is a work-in-progress. The experience of learning something off of an LP is particularly interesting – it makes you really respect the musicians that grew up in the LP era, who had to learn tunes off of their record player. Believe me, it’s harder than using mp3s!
This record is pretty tough to find. It’s usually up on Ebay, though if you go to your local record store, it might be under Django Reinhardt’s name (that’s where I found my copy, at Looney Tunes on Boylston Street in Boston). Some tracks may also be available online – “Dicky Wells’ Blues” is available from Amazon, but I would strongly recommend getting the whole LP. Like Ellington’s Unknown Sessions, this LP alone makes owning a record player worth the expense!
Oh yeah, you can also hear it here:
(though you still really should check out the LP)
Postscript: There is also a thing I hope every jazz trombonist is familiar with – Andre Hodeir’s assessment of Dicky Wells’ romantic imagination. I leave it up to the reader to investigate further, but I’d recommend starting by reading Hodeir’s Jazz: Its Evolution and Essence, avaliable at your local library.