Something new

Something old, something new, something borrowed, something blue. I'm not preparing for a wedding, so call this a reverie, a chain of reflections. It will lead to an exciting announcement.

1. I have three--much--older brothers. They listened to music which actually came from even before their own time, and that music is what I heard when I was very small. I still have some of the energy I picked up from this group.

2. I am currently working on a song called "Zoot Walks in." It used to the "The Red Door," but somebody added words to honor the great tenor sax Zoot Sims.

3. Thinking about Zoot made me in turn remember the last blog I wrote on Doc Tenney, an Iowa sax great, and the way musicians live in our memories and in our playing. We who love and play this music today owe a lo to those who were here before.



The Eddie Piccard Quartet is going to start honoring some of them in our appearances.

Each Friday night "The Second Set," the actual second set of our night, will be devoted to the music associated with two or three of these people--musicians who made their mark and left us something of real worth. That doesn't mean we're going to imitate them, of course. We will do our thing with some of their songs.

This week "The Second Set" will be devoted to the music of two great performers who actually once appeared together: Frank Sinatra and Count Basie. Sinatra once said that he learned about breathing in music by listening to the horns in the band. He had the great gift, which Eddie certainly shares, of understanding that every song is also a story. Singing means getting into the story. When It's Quarter til Three, it really feels like quarter til three.

Count Basie--well, for me it's not possible to think about the rich history of this music without thinking of Count Basie. That band had it all--the great soloists, the driving, compelling rhythm section, and the Count himself as the presiding officer and guiding spirit.

This Friday--June 27--The Second Set belongs to Frank Sinatra and Count Basie. I hope a lot of people will join us as we play music from their songbooks.

Incidentally, the blond woman dressed in white watching the Goodman group in the link above is one of Eddie's favorites, the great singer Peggy Lee. I hope one of these nights she will be one of the people we honor in "The Second Set."

Paul "Doc" Tenney

Here are some of the horns which belonged to Paul "Doc" Tenney.

The horns are sitting on the stage at the Hearst Center for the Fine Arts in Cedar Falls.  They are there because Doc died June 9.

When a jazz musician dies, jazz musicians come together.  They come together to celebrate a life.  They do that by celebrating the art they shared.  Some of the musicians who participated: Eddie Piccard, Bob Dunn, Rich Martin, Bob Crumley, Tim Crumley, Bob Washut, Chris Merz, Al Naylor, Dick Kriz, Craig Dove, Nick George, Gail Williams, Paul Rider, Stuart Wood.

Doc Tenney frequently sat in with the Eddie Piccard group when I first started playing with them. His solos were always melodic, inventive, fitting to the song, thoroughly musical.
  His friends remember that he didn't like to waste or mince words.  He was meticulous in his speech, in all of his work.  Doc thought that calling something "good enough" meant that it wasn't. 

  
                                                   








But Doc was always very kind to me, very supportive.  He helped me believe that I could learn something about playing this music, about taking part in sessions like the one held in his honor and pictured here.

 

These are wonderful occasions because they bring to life the old paradox of jazz.  There is joy to be found in sadness.  Playing the blues can make you happy.

 

I miss Doc and the sound of his sax, but, as his wife Jan said, we don't have to speak of this man in the past tense.  He is present while our memories are present.

 

"The past is never dead.  It's not even past."

 

So said Faulkner.  He was talking about the South, about history, but he could have been talking about music, about jazz.  We remember.  When we played "In a Mellow Tone," we  played a riff I first heard from Doc Tenney.

 

 

 

 



 

 

 

 

Songs of Autumn

Ah, autumn, the fall. I like all of the seasons. There is joy enough to go around. But I confess it is the autumn which most touches me.

In my teaching life, in the early years, there was Hopkins "Spring and Fall" and Keats’s "Ode to Autumn." Later, I taught a course in American Nature Writers. I was profound in the classroom, of course, but it was really the woods that provoked reverie in members of the class.

When I was a kid, it was still legal to burn leaves–and roast marshmallows. There is no better smell than that fire, no better taste than those marshmallows.

But there is still a glory in the season.

 

In my present life, though, it is especially the songs which reach me. There are great songs you can play any time at all. Some you can play only at certain times–Winter Wonderland, for example, and many Christmas songs.

But Autumn has some of the greatest. Eddie sings Henry Nemo’s "‘Tis Autumn," first recorded by Nat "King" Cole. And we play the song made famous by Woody Herman and his sax section–"Early Autumn." Beautiful.

Last week-end Scott Barnum couldn't be with the band so Eddie asked Craig Dove to play bass.  We had a good crowd and a great night.

And the band played a tune I have loved all of my life--"September Song."  Only one week-end left for that one.

Visitors from Far Away

Speaking of friends stopping by, there are old friends and new ones.

Blanca and Javier Alejandro Flores have been married for two weeks.  I'm not sure how they happened to be in Cedar Rapids or how they discovered us, but it was great having them in the room.  People who like the music always add to the flavor of what is going on.


And in this case Javier added something more.  He joined us to sing "New York, New York" with Eddie.

Blanca and Javier are from Mexico!  I was going to give them our "Came a Long Way to Hear You" Award--until I remembered the couple who came from Copenhagen.

Near or Far--friends are always welcome. 

When Friends Stop By

It’s probably a reflection of my old life, but among the the fringe treats I love in this new life are all of the pr stuff and having special friends show up for a gig. Students generally come to see professors only when things aren’t going well. Deans want to see professors only when the Dean is perturbed about something (which Deans usually are). People don’t drop into the office just for fun.

So I really enjoy things that call attention to good times. I like seeing the signs on the Longbranch and on First Avenue advertising the Eddie Piccard Quartet, and I loved seeing the article which appeared in Hoopla (Cedar Rapids Gazette).  I like the poster in the lobby at the Longbranch which lets hotel guests know about the band and which brought in a couple of new listeners recently.

A couple of weeks ago I got a special surprise.  My niece Lara drove from Bloomington, Illinois, just to catch the band and brought along her friend Kent as a bonus.

We had a great time. And we always play better when friends are present. I hope they come back and that others will drop in--soon.

Generations and Jazz

Yes, it’s been awhile since I last posted. I got distracted.
　

Yes, that is our house.  And yes, that was our tree.

A tree hitting the house at 11:30 at night is a little like a Max Roach bomb. It’s quick, then it’s over. My wife and I said "that was a close one"--and went back to sleep. 

Now a policeman shouting at you from about fifteen feet outside your bedroom door is more like a Dizzy Gillespie entrance. It gets your attention and holds it, insists on it.

And house repair time is like–well, I don’t know because it is still going on.

Back before the tree asserted itself, I was talking about the sense of community jazz carries with it and offers to all. I just got another taste of that.

A couple of weeks ago Dick Guider sat in with us at the Longbranch. He is a trumpet player from Las Vegas Eddie has known for many years.

It was a treat to have Dick join us because, first, the guy is really good. I especially enjoyed it when we played "St Louis Blues." We have never played that before, but Eddie sang the opening chorus, then Dick took over and the rhythm section locked on. Sometimes something sounds and feels so good that one feels levitated. By the time I got to solo I was already about two feet off the ground.

But my enjoyment didn’t end there. Zach Gignac is a good young friend of the band; he drops in to hear us whenever he gets the chance. He belongs to a group called The Pocket Tones.

I have never heard them, but Eddie has and he has sat in with them.

At the break I saw Zach in conversation with Dick Guider. There are maybe three generations calendar-wise between them. The sight made me remember my own experience, many many years ago, with a trumpet player named Stompey Whitlock.

These moments of contact keep the music rolling.

Sights and Sounds

Some nice shots taken at a private party.  Sounds included.  Come to Longbranch tonight to catch the real thing.

On Drummers

When I was a kid (yes, it was quite a while ago) I started out as a drummer. Partly for that reason, I find that I am frequently watching the drummer when I see a band. I enjoyed seeing Greg Kanz play in the Ron DeWitte band. Greg didn’t take any solos, but he is a superb supportive player both musically and visually.

There used to be a bad joke. Asked about the size of his band, the leader would say "we have five musicians and a drummer." The drummer is a musician, of course, and plays a very important role. First, he (or she) must make the arrangement swing. A jazz drummer has a more difficult role, though, in that he must intuit where the improvising soloist is going and augment or punctuate what the soloist is doing–and must do this tastefully and tactfully, without getting in the soloist’s way and disrupting the flow.

Jon Wilson, the drummer with the Eddie Piccard Quartet, is very good at backing the wide variety of songs that Eddie plays. I also enjoy his strong support when I am soloing. And Jon is himself a very musical soloist. Listen to his work when we play Samba De Orfeu.

And while we’re talking about drummers, here’s a solo from the guy I first saw when I was about 14: Buddy Rich.

Support Live Music

Editorial comment: Support Live Music. Go hear somebody.  Have some fun yourself and at the same time help make it a good night for everybody. A good audience is critically important in making for a good performance.

What’s more, live music needs support. We are lucky in the Quartet because we are working steadily, but a lot of good musicians are not.

We caught a good show recently. Jackie and I went with Dallis and Eddie Piccard to the ARA Gallery to see Ron DeWitte and his band, along with his wife, singer Lynne Rothrock, in concert. I didn’t know it at the time, but learned later that Eddie had played for their wedding.

We have played ARA ourselves and it is a nice venue–comfortable for audience, good for acoustics. This night drew a responsive crowd. The band--Ron DeWitte lead guitar, Gerard Estella keyboard, Dave Ollinger bass, Greg Kanz drums–has a solid, tight sound. We really enjoyed the music.  

We had a good audience ourselves at the Longbranch last Friday–a nice mix of dancers and listeners. Jackie got a picture of Eddie framed by dancers.

Flying Home--and Conti Milano

Mentioning "Flying Home" brings back something I wrote a few years ago. It is about one of my favorite memories of a musical performance–and about the way the music works.

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[from 2010]

"The past is never dead. It’s not even past."

So said Faulkner. He was talking about the South, about history, but he could have been talking about music, about jazz. He could have been talking about my own experience recently when we played "Flying Home."

"Flying Home" was Lionel Hampton’s signature song. It was usually the last number on the program, and it was a thrill to hear it start because you knew that there was a wild tenor sax solo on the way, that the band would keep building, that whatever was left of the roof would blow off.

So it was exciting to me when Eddie called Hamp’s song.

But there are also memories inside of songs, and they all lead to what happens when one solos. Sometimes we don’t remember even what the memory is, but in this case I’m lucky. I do.

There are two parts to this story. Somewhere in the late 40s a young tenor sax named Illinois Jacquet became part of Hampton’s big band. One night it was time to play "Flying Home." There are many versions of what happened to Jacquet, but it went something like this. As he was rising from his chair to solo, fellow-saxman Marshall Royal tugged on his sleeve. "I’ve heard you sound like Prez," he said, "and I’ve heard you sound like Hawk. Now–go for yourself."

Jacquet’s solo made such a mark that some musicians have called it "Flying Home, Part Two."

And here’s Part Two of my story. A few years ago on a gig in Kalona, I met Conti Milano, an old friend of Eddie Piccard’s. Conti sat in with our band on bass. He once played bass with the Buddy Rich band. That will tell you what a strong bass he was.

On a break, he and I started talking about music and about "Flying Home." I was enough younger than Conti that he didn’t think I would know who originated that great tenor sax solo. He didn’t think I would know even after I named Jacquet. "Do you know the solo I mean?" he asked, and began quietly singing it. And there we sat, in the outdoor lounge of the Tuscan Moon, at a nicely decorated table, under the patio umbrella, singing together Illinois Jacquet’s solo.

When I launched into my first chorus on "Flying Home" last week, I found myself playing something like Jacquet’s solo. But I wasn’t thinking of Jacquet. I was thinking of Conti Milano, in the outdoor lounge of the Tuscan Moon, at a nicely decorated table, under the patio umbrella, singing Illinois Jacquet’s solo.

My second chorus was something of my own. The out-riff was all Hamp’s.

"The past is never dead. It’s not even past."

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After I wrote the above, I got a copy of The Chicago Music Scene, 1970s. The book was written and the pictures compiled by Dean Milano, Conti’s nephew. There is a picture of Conti Milano as a young man on p. 76. Incidentally, there is also a picture of Eddie Piccard–on p. 91.

And here’s a still more recent discovery–Eddie playing at Conti's Memorial Service. The drummer is Rusty Jones, the bassist Dean Milano. Dean sings "Lady be Good," Mark Milano sings "How About You," and a few people share some memories of Conti.