A teenager in the 60s whose passion for jazz had expanded from UK trad bands to pretty much the whole jazz spectrum (though I never liked Brubeck or Kenton, and I hadn't yet been exposed to the avant-garde) my exploration of the music was rather hampered by my lack of disposable income.
I was happy to listen to the revivalists live, especially when I won a year's free entrance to the club at the Bell Inn on Oxford Road in Reading for knowing Bix's first names. Ken Colyer nights at the Bell I were pretty wonderful, especially the last number when Ken started waving around his metal derby hat mute.
And I listened to the radio of course, twiddling the dial to pick up Willis Conover on the Voice of America. But record buying was a problem. If I'd possessed a middle class acceptance of deferred gratification I guess I could have devised a wish list of essential recordings and saved my money until I could afford them; what in fact happened was that I scurried off to the local record shop as soon as I had the necessary to buy something- often a bargain issue or compilation.
One such, on RCA's Camden label, was Great Jazz Reeds (still available from your on-line record dealer!) It's a knock-out collection, if rather eclectic. Bechet, Pee Wee, Dodds, Mezz- great Ladnier so we'll forgive the hyperbole- Chu, Bud Freeman, Bird...and as the last track, Cadillac Slim by the Chocolate Dandies, with Ben Webster and Benny Carter. Of the ten tracks, that's the one that really excited me at the time, and still does.
Customers often ask me if I'm a collector myself; I always deny it, despite having a sizeable personal music accumulation- I'm simply too disorganised to deserve the accolade. If I had been a collector, I would no doubt have searched for the other sides from this session. As it is, I waited for them to fall serendipitously into my metaphorical lap, in the form of a Swing (France) reissue of tracks by Hawkins both with Michel Warlop and with his All Star Swing Band (Carter & Django), and Carter with an international band (Bertie King, Alix Combelle, Django). Plus, to fill up the 2nd side, the four Chocolate Dandies tracks recorded in NYC for the Swing label.
It would be nice to be able to report that all 4 tracks were masterpieces; nice but untrue. Sweet Georgia Brown has a bright chorus by Buck Clayton and a full-toned one from Carter. Sonny White plays well - Teddy Wilson out of Earl Hines- and Ben Webster growls 2 choruses before a jammed finish. Out of my Way is by Sid Catlett, sung by the composer. He puts down his sticks to take his vocal chorus, and is missed. He has a musical tenor voice, but there's only room for a split chorus between Ben, Al Grey and the final ensemble.
What'll It Be is a riff-based Carter original, with Benny taking the first bridge. Buck and Sonny White split a chorus with riffs behind, before Carter sails in serenely on alto to claim his composer's privilege of a full chorus.
What makes Cadillac Slim special?- it is after all just another Rhythm changes riff tune- by Ben Webster.
Big Sid must take much of the credit; not only does he kick off the side with a brilliant 8 bar intro, but throughout the 3 minutes his fills are beautifully timed to push the soloists and create excitement. Another reason is the way the track's divided between the soloists: after the drum intro there's 24 bars of ensemble, with Ben taking the bridge. He plays a full chorus, the tempo's fast but he resists the temptation to growl. Then he and Carter trade 4s, followed by a Carter chorus. Sonny White gets 24 bars with Al Grey taking the bridge, and Sid kicks Buck into his 24 bar solo- he begins by almost playing the first half of the Salt Peanuts riff. 8 bars of ensemble and out. I judge it to be a completely unpretentious but perfect track. Everybody's at the top of their game, and Catlett is astonishingly good. Thank you RCA Camden.
One question remains; why did a group as musically sophisticated as this one call themselves 'The Chocolate Dandies'? You can read the origin of the name here; what I can't understand is why Carter was still using it in the '40s. Brian Rust (RIP) in his sleeve notes to the Parlophone lp by various '28-'33 groups under this name suggests daringly that it has a 'slightly patronising, certainly period flavour about it' and suggests that those were 'less touchy times'.
1 comment:
Alan, I'm interested by your remark about collecting -- and especially that you don't consider yourself a collector. Collecting fascinates me, even though I don't believe I fully share either the attitudes or the genes that make the hardcore collector.
Books, for instance. I literally can't move for books. I have thousands upon thousands (often literally -- the shelf space ran out years ago). But I don't really consider myself a book collector. I have lots of books because I love them as objects, but primarily they are a function of being addicted to reading.
But am I entirely free of the collecting contagion? Not quite. I won't buy books that I don't intend to read -- I won't buy a book by a writer that doesn't interest me because it's a first edition, for instance. But I will buy old 1950s/1960s Penguins because I love the jackets -- even though I may already have one jacket variant or don't (fully) intend to read the book in the foreseeable future.
Back on the subject of records. I *know* I am not a real collector because (a) I don't have a notebook full of serial numbers; (b) I don't replace a record simply because I have found an original vinyl issue as opposed to a reissue (at least, not often); and (c) because I lack space.
So on reflection, it may be truer to say that I am a potential collector (books, records, CDs) but consciously suppress this urge and instead practise a kind of utilitarianism which I find more "respectable" and less decadent...
It would be interesting to know how many of your customers consider themselves collectors -- and what they consider to be the particular qualities that mark them out as a collector.
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