CD Review: Artie Shaw & His Gramercy 5 * The Complete Commercially Released Recordings * Jasmine Records * 2008

 

In September of 1940, Artie Shaw decided it was time to go the way of other bandleaders by adding a "band within a band" to his shows. Tommy Dorsey had done this as early as 1935 with his impishly named "Clambake Seven", as had Bob Crosby with his "Bobcats"--the group most responsible for presenting Irving Fazola to the world beyond New Orleans. These bands were designed to preserve and promote the older style of New Orleans polyphonic improvisation. Throughout the Swing Era different approaches to ensemble jazz had developed, most notably written arrangements and a different type of aural tradition known as "head charts"--motivic arrangements communally developed by bands such as the Fletcher Henderson and Basie bands, often left unnotated.

Benny Goodman had joined the trend for small groups in 1935, though in a more forward looking way, hiring Teddy Wilson to form a trio with himself and Gene Krupa. The group was expanded to a quartet with the addition of Lionel Hampton in 1936, producing music that was no longer a direct representation of New Orleans or Chicago, but something altogether different. One more major expansion of the group took place with the additions of Charlie Christian and various other players; the Goodman Sextet becoming Benny's small ensemble of choice from 1939 through the mid 1950s.

Considering all of these, which had gained considerable success over the years, Shaw's entry into the small group fray was quite late. When he finally entered, it was with a unique twist: this would be the group to pursue his old ideas concerning "chamber jazz"; ideas which had met with only sporadic success. In an era that prized "hot and loud" music, Shaw had never been at home. His ideal was cooler, more introspective, less bombastic. While the first cuts by his new group would feature some distinctly "hot" numbers, it would ultimately be remembered for its reflective romanticism.

The first version of the band was comprised of Artie's clarinet along with Billy Butterfield on trumpet, Al Hendrickson on guitar, Jud DeNaut on bass, Nick Fatool on drums, and the novelty for which the first Gramercy 5 will always be know, Johnny Guarnieri on harpsichord.

They began recording on September 3, 1940, and the tunes chosen were emblematic for the group's direction. Two Shaw originals were cut: "Special Delivery Stomp" (derived from his earlier big band chart "Man from Mars"), and a blues, "Summit Ridge Drive", named for Artie's Hollywood address at the time. Then there were two 'standards': "Keepin' Myself for You" and "Cross Your Heart."

"Summit Ridge Drive" became a major hit, selling over a million copies while taking advantage of the new craze for jukeboxes, and establishing credibility for the new band.

The next session took place three months later, on December 5, 1940. Once again there were two Shaw originals and two standards. "Dr. Livingstone, I Presume" was to contain Shaw's most explicit klezmer reference as a composer, while his sarcastic "When the Quail Come Back to San Quentin" paradoxically provided a canvas for many of his more baroque and inspired solo musings in future years. The standards recorded that day were to become almost synonymous with the group: "Smoke Gets in Your Eyes" (a miniature gem of aural poetics) and "My Blue Heaven", the solo of which contains one of Shaw's earliest veiled references to Stravinsky's Petrushka, a piece he would return to more than once.  

The group continued to develop past its initial line-up, with each reiteration adding a layer or two of depth and innovation. Reassembled in 1945, Roy Eldridge was featured on trumpet, Dodo Marmarosa on piano instead of harpsichord, and Barney Kessel on guitar. This was the group that laid down a succession of Shaw's most biting original tunes--"The Sad Sack" (short for "sad sack of shit"--a term used to describe worthless soldiers in WWII), "The Grabtown Grapple" (which predated Charlie Parker's similarly named "Scrapple from the Apple"), "Scuttlebutt" (Artie's ode to arguments), "The Gentle Grifter" and "Mysterioso" among them. Sometimes brooding, always intense, these tunes brought a satirical edge to small group jazz similar to Mahler's moments of symphonic sarcasm or Shostakovich's bitter parodies. This continued throughout the '40s, with Shaw adding tunes like "Crumbum" and "Nothin' From Nothin'" to the catalogue.

Also like Mahler, while capable of being artistically critical and biting, Shaw was very rarely pessimistic in an ultimate sense. Over the course of his career he recorded many songs of disappointment and even bitterness, but only one ("Gloomy Sunday") strikes as despairing, self-pitying, and hopeless. A more typically Shavian message comes at the end of 1950's Gramercy 5 recording of "There Must Be Something Better Than Love"--the end of which dismisses the title sentiment with the final rhetorical questions:

But if there's something better than love who's got it?
Who wants it?
Do you?

Often emotionally confrontational, Shaw's love tunes from this period were certainly not facile.

The last group to be known as the Gramercy 5 was an entirely reconstituted group, both in sound and personnel. With Hank Jones on piano and Joe Roland on vibes, especially, the group took on a truly pellucid, ruminative, and romantic quality that has rarely if ever been matched, and was finally to realize Shaw's vision of clear, deep, chamber jazz. This is the group that laid down the now famous "Last Recordings" and "Final Sessions" of Artie Shaw, which were kept unreleased for several decades. They were the summit of Shaw's chamber jazz achievement, and as complete a look at his career's importance as we were ever to get--a last will and testament before, like Prospero, he "broke his staff and drowned his book."

Immediately apparent to Shaw enthusiasts is the difference in tone from these recordings. Gone is so much of the bitterness, the biting sarcasm, and the frustration-laced wailings of so many of Shaw's earlier recordings. Peace, so difficult to convey in music, gentleness, and warmth are dominant in new ways in this music--it exudes a pure, fresh romanticism seemingly untainted by darker elements often associated with the term. After these sessions, Shaw packed up his clarinet and never recorded again.

This 5-disc set from Jasmine Records, entitled "Six Star Treats" is one of the most essential box of jazz recordings available. Not only does it bring together, for the first time, all of the studio recordings of the various groups to work under the Gramercy 5 name, but it provides alternate takes and many live performances, including some tunes the group never recorded in the studio.

Towards the end of disc one, for instance, there are clips from a Bing Crosby broadcast featuring the Gramercy 5 performing Gershwin's "I Was Doing Alright" and Rodgers & Hart's "You Took Advantage of Me", both of which are given masterful interpretation and neither of which was recorded in studio. There are also some rare alternate, shorter takes released as singles of the last Gramercy 5. "Besame Mucho", "Tenderly", and "Stop and Go Mambo" are each presented in this alternate form, giving a rare and brief glimpse into the "head arrangement" process that Shaw had used throughout the life of the ensemble.

The transfers of these recordings are consistently good, though collectors will also want to own other versions. The RCA Victor "Complete" disc (which is nowhere near complete, but contains only the studio recordings from 1940-45)  has exceptionally good sound, and the original issues of the "Last Recordings" have not only good sound quality, but important interview liner notes with Shaw.

But as it stands, this 5-disc set is the very best out there for Artie Shaw and His Gramercy 5. It is the most comprehensive box of Shaw's most important recordings. It couldn't be more essential. 

[A version of this review was originally published in The Jazz Clarinet in May of 2013 - E.S.]

CD Box Review: Artie Shaw and His Orchestra * King of the Clarinet * Live 1938-39 * Hindsight Records (HBCD-502) 1993

[ Taking a break from Vaughan Williams this morning to review of one of the most important jazz sets out there...]

Artie Shaw - clarinet

Les Robinson, Hank Freeman - alto sax

Tony Pastor, Ronnie Perry, Georgie Auld - tenor sax

Johnny Best, Bernie Previn, Chuck Peterson, Harry Geller - trumpets

George Arus, Russell Brown, Harry Rodgers, Les Jenkins - trombones

Les Burness, Bob Kitsis - piano

Al Avola, Dave Barbour - guitar

Sid Weiss - bass

Cliff Leeman, George Wettling, Buddy Rich - drums

Helen Forrest, Tony Pastor - vocals

After more than a decade of writing a jazz clarinet blog, I'm shocked to find I haven't reviewed this CD box. Maybe I took for granted that it was inevitable, or thought it would be too difficult to find enough superlatives, or maybe I thought I'd already done it. However I've managed to maintain this level of neglect, it's mind boggling. 

Of all the great jazz clarinetists, Artie Shaw resonates more personally with me than any other. We share a geographical connection with roots in New York, Connecticut, and Cleveland; an intellectual similarity that makes the world of literature and writing as enticing as music; a fundamental need to wrestle with the meaning of existence; and a musical preference, above all, for what might be termed lyric melody of meaning. That this box might contain what I consider his most important and beautiful recordings may have been why I've neglected to review it. The fact is, despite what one might think, I've tried to stay away from drawing too much attention to his music - not out of some Bloomian "Anxiety of Influence", but simply because I'm never sure I can do it justice. 

You see, I've given historical "lecture concerts" in nightclubs and libraries highlighting the accomplishments of many of the great clarinetists of jazz history. Sidney Bechet, Jimmie Noone, Benny Goodman, Pete Fountain, Hubert Rostaing, George Lewis, and Acker Bilk all come to mind - I've prepared lectures on their life's work and performed tunes in context for them. But never for Artie. It's probably because he's just too close to me - I almost don't know where to start. It's too personal. I can honestly say I've been influenced by just about everyone I've listened to by this point, but Artie is really the bedrock of my style. Here are a couple of quick stories demonstrating how this influence reveals itself: 

Once, while playing at a jam session at a local tavern, I remember an older gentlemen coming up to me between sets, with a puzzled look on his face. 

"It's been bothering me all evening...who you remind me of..." he said, with that odd familiarity with which perfect strangers approach jazz musicians after a set. "Then it came to me! Your playing reminds me of Gustav Mahler!" And he pointed at me knowingly, shaking his finger with a sly smile, as though he'd caught me throwing Mahler excerpts into my solos.  

Another time, while recording my live album at the Bop Stop in Cleveland, also between sets, a very astute trumpet player in the audience commented that he felt my performance of "Go Down, Moses" was a seamless fusion of klezmer and blues. The truth is that neither the similarity to Mahler, nor the fusion was conscious - but the both spoke of the foundational influence of Artie Shaw on my playing. His musical thoughts have worked their way into my language, because they've always been the basis for my musical speech, as it were. 

So maybe this explains why I've taken so long to review these recordings. I think this box might represent the finest documents of Artie Shaw's playing and musical mind. And because of that, for me at least, they might be the greatest performances of what is known as the Swing Era, by any band. They document an important period for Shaw - from just before "Begin the Beguine" catapulted him to nationally recognized fame (and fortune), to his second (but thankfully not final) retirement. These recordings follow him from what he described as the "rat trap" that was the Blue Room at New York City's Lincoln Hotel in the Fall of 1938, through his stay at the Summer Terrace of Ritz Carlton in Boston during the Summer of 1939, to the glamour of the Cafe Rouge at the Hotel Pennsylvania in New York, where Shaw snapped at last and, in an effort to preserve his sanity and health, abruptly walked off the stage in the middle of a performance, never to return with this group again. It seemed a career ending move at the time. Fortunately for the rest of us, it wasn't, but even if it had been we'd have no cause to complain, as Shaw and this band left us some of the finest music of jazz history. This box is even more important than the great studio recordings made by the Artie Shaw Orchestra at the time, because it's live.     

With very rare exception, I always prefer live recordings, even with all their flaws. Whether we're talking about Benny Goodman's Madhattan Room Broadcasts, Duke Ellington's All Star Road Band, or classical recordings like Gennady Rozhdestvensky's live cycle of the Vaughan Williams symphonies, there is an immediacy and an interactive excitement that cannot be replicated without an audience. As a performer, both in the classical and jazz realms, I can attest to being more creative and alive on stage than in any rehearsal or studio session. Audiences draw things out of performers that can't be imitated. These recordings are no exception - they are almost all more interesting and exciting than their studio counterparts. Shaw himself was interviewed and served as a consultant for this set, and the booklet provides almost track by track observations from the great clarinetist. 

Unlike Benny Goodman's Madhattan Room Broadcasts, which were re-released in a six CD box in the 1990s, the tracks from these three discs are not released in strict chronological order, but chosen from the three broadcast locations in New York and Boston, to create three re-imagined "sets." Pete Kline seems to have made the choices for these sets (he's credited as the Box Set producer and compiler). He did an excellent job - the listener might be forgiven for thinking these were three complete performances from three evenings. It also speaks the amazing consistency of Shaw's band over the course of more than a year. The performances from Boston aren't notably different from the ones in New York, either before or after the groups Cinderella success. If you'd told me they were all from the same location, from the same weekend, I'd believe you. 

Most of the arrangements for these charts were done by Artie Shaw, Jerry Gray, and the guitarist for the band Al Avola. They represent the epitome of Shaw's style - lyrical melody, clear dialogue and counterpoint between the sections - nothing pedantic muddying up matters; they're a study of beauty without sentimentality. And slotted throughout the arrangements, some of the finest jazz soloing ever captured. 

Leading off with "Rose Room" from the Ritz-Carlton on August 19, 1939, we hear Artie's lyrical virtuosity at work. I don't know if anyone possessed a melodic gift to the degree he did at this point in his career. In many ways he reminds me of a jazz version of Tchaikovsky. His rhythmic variety alone during his solos, combined with an ability to craft the most intricate melodic ideas all within the space of a chorus (or at times half a chorus) remains, for me, unmatched. When jazz embraced bebop language, it lost some of this lyricism, in my opinion. I've always felt it would be worthwhile to use Artie's lyricism as a starting point, and develop jazz in a different direction - less modernist, more romantic. It's actually what I try to do myself as a player. Anyhow, we hear Artie at zenith here. his solos on "Rose Room", "Carioca", "Yesterdays", "Sweet Adeline", "One Foot in the Groove", "Man from Mars", "Stardust", "Out of Nowhere", "St Louis Blues", "It Had to be You", "I Can't Give You Anything But Love", "I Cover the Waterfront"  and more are classics.  For any musician they are a clinic of creativity, beauty, and invention. I cannot wrap my mind around the fact that he wasn't just soloing here, but leading the band as well - and the band is in incredible form - relaxed, warm, swinging - a type of perfection rarely accomplished by any ensemble of any musical genre.

(For those wanting a sample, the recording of "The Carioca" here cannot be surpassed. From a teenage Buddy Rich chirping in the background, to Artie's endless variations - including his stellar choruses over the band at the end, it's a must for any jazz collection).

There is plenty of great soloing by other members of the band in this set, but the star is Shaw. Helen Forrest, my favorite of the girl singers back then, is in top form on these recordings too. Her intelligent, heart rending versions of "Comes Love", "Don't Worry 'Bout Me", and "Two Sleepy People" in particular remain my favorite versions of these tunes by a singer. Tony Pastor, though he was admittedly a bit of a novelty singer in addition to being a solid tenor sax, is in good form here too - adding humor, and even a little pathos to the fine arrangements he sang over. 

When Artie left the bandstand in November of 1939, leaving this band and seemingly his career as a musician behind, it was widely believed that he did it out disgust for the music business and its hassles, along with the wildness of the teenage fans who annoyed him with their antics. But listening to these recordings, once again, this morning, I can't help but wonder if he psychologically needed a break from the intense creating he was doing on a nightly basis. I'm not sure many musicians have sustained such lyrical invention and technical brilliance over the course of a twelve month span as we have documented here. And to do it while leading one of the finest ensembles in the world - it's beyond what I can fathom.

As I wrote above, if he had never returned to music, we would have no reason to be anything but grateful. Fortunately for us, he added more brilliant chapters to his career and to jazz history. As great as those were, however, none surpassed the perfection he achieved in the year spanning from November 1938 to November 1939.               

***

Epilogue: I bought this box, of all places, at Tower Records in New Orleans in 1999. I wasn't aware of its existence until seeing it there, and immediately appreciated the irony of going all the way to New Orleans just to end up buying Artie Shaw discs. It was on the return to Indiana (where I lived as a grad student) that the importance of the purchase became apparent. Driving all through the night from New Orleans to Bloomington, through Louisiana, Mississippi, Tennessee, and Kentucky, my wife and I played these discs over and over. They were a match for the heartland landscape at night, perfectly engaging, managing  to keep me awake and in a type of elated awe for hundreds of miles. I'll never forget the experience. My admiration for these recordings hasn't flagged in the twenty four years since.