The record changer (Feb-Dec 1948)

Records Noted Beginning with this issue we are expanding our Record Reviewing Staff. Paul Bacon, long a collector of traditional jazz records and also an authoritative critic of Modern Be-Bop, will review the extreme modern side. This is in line with the Record Changer's strong belief that the various forms of jazz should not be judged in comparison with one another, but rather should be evaluated within the framework of their own particular form. We also hope to include in the future, reviews of popular records, which should be considered only in terms of their own limited aims. This will give us a four-man Reviewing Staff, headed by George Avakian of course. Realizing that George is the man responsible for the jazz records put out by Columbia it is obviously impossible to have him review their issues and reissues. Therefore, in this and subsequent issues, Bucklin Moon will handle the criticism of all such Columbia releases. (Ed.) 'Deep Woods Blues" Three blues singers are the principals of this miscellany of fine old-time artists revived by Circle. It's really fine to have Chippie Hill, Hociel Thomas, and Montana Taylor with us again, and in the same fine form which gave their records of twenty years or more ago a considerable reputation among collectors. It's not so fine .that that curiosity wasn't strong enough until quite recently to prompt their rediscovery. What wonderful records they could have been producing all these years ! These cuttings are all from "first" sessions ; the artists hadn't recorded in nearly a generation when they made these sides. That they consequently may not be at their best is hinted by the fact that Chippie Hill is much more effective in person than she is on her record in this album, or even on her two best sides (the earlier releases made with J. H. "Freddie" Shayne on piano). Nevertheless, Chippie's sides are excellent, and the accompaniments offer an interesting contrast. One side, Around the Clock Blues (also familiar as My Daddy Rocks Me), features Lee Collins' intelligent trumpet work with a rhythm section consisting of Lovie Austin, John Lindsay, and Baby Dodds, while Black Market Blues is made with Montana Taylor on piano and Almond Leonard playing washboard as he blows a kazoo. Chippie, a down-the-line trouper if ever there was one, milks the steady roll number with that evil leer in her voice (my, if only someone had recorded her "If you can't Ret five, take two" to the tune of Old Grey Bonnet!), and her voice is equally fine on the Black Market side, but I find Almond Leonard's hokum distracting and Montana's fine piano is rather understressed here. 14 George Avakian Bucklin Mnon Paul Bacon Montana's own sides are in the vein of his wonderful I Can't Sleep, though not as effective either in content or in performance. Yet they are splendid blues sides, with both piano and voice equally important in their 100% Taylor interplay. Montana's playing and singing have an exceptionally sad accent, and his voice is unusually conversational. If anything, I think I enjoy him more when he sings along with his pianoplaying, and even a small matter like the complete omission of one line doesn't harm my enjoyment of Montana's Blues. The reverse, written by Mrs. Cow Cow Davenport, is Rotten Break Blues. Hociel Thomas, the least-known of this threesome, is represented with a piano solo and a vocal side in which she is backed by Mutt Carey. Carey, one of the finest trumpet players of all time, is not at ease here, and his unorthodox way of supporting Hociel — he frequently plays along with her voice, and only occasionally fills in between lines — is not especially successful, largely because his mute and pronounced vibrato don't blend well with Hociel's voice. It's too bad, because Hociel is first-rate, and the combination should have been tops. The revival of Go Down Sunshine scarcely, I think, justifies album-noter Bob Aurthur's acclaiming Hociel's voice as "the greatest since that of Bessie Smith," although Miss T. is a fine singer indeed. I think she is an even better pianist, although, like most barrel-house musicians, she has certain personal cliches which show up quite early. Her Tebo's Texas Boogie, though sometimes quite thin, is a corker in the best tradition of the Paramount racerecord pianists, and better than most. (Circle Album S-4) Bessie Smith St. Louis Blues, in 4 parts Taken from the sound track of Bessie Smith's only film (1929), this is an interesting preservation of a voice unhappily stilled in 1937. But it has little more than curiosity value, since it does not approach — either in quality of reproduction or in setting — any of the great many recordings which made her the biggest selling artist on the Columbia Gramophone Company's race label between 1923 and 1933. The motion picture was made before sound techniques were adequately developed, and moreover the dubbings for this album were evidently made from a worn copy. This ppint must be made, in all fairness, because the album notes claim that "Bessie's voice itself comes through clear and undistorted." A rather stiff band (hampered even more than Bessie by the abnormally poor reproduction) and a large choir under the direction of T. Rosamund Johnson takes up a large part of the records. Bessie sings about half of the time, one way or another — her highlights are the unaccompanied moanings on the first side, and a fine spot for twothirds of a chorus at the beginning of the third side. The meat of St. Louis Blues itself occupies the second side. In the film, Kaiser Marshall is easily recognizable as the drummer in the band, but few would spot James P. Johnson (who in those days wore a size 36 suit) at the keyboard. Jimmy, who recalls the filming well, says that Trumpeter Joe Smith and Bass Player Harry Hull were also in the band, and that the director was Dudley Murphy, who later did "Emperor Jones." The trumpet break at the beginning of the third side was probably played by Joe's brother, Russell Smith, who was then leader of Fletcher Henderson's brass section. James P. also identified Bessie's male lead, St. Louis Jimmy, as the well-known vaudeville dancer, Jimmy Mordecai (whose slow grind with Bessie, done to the band's moaning version of St. Louis Blues, is the visual climax of the film and comes in the first half of the last side of the records. The bartender, who steals the picture for my dough, is Johnny Lee, an exceptionally talented actor, singer, and dancer who recently played the comedy lead in Jimmy Johnson's musical, "Meet Miss Jones." There is barely enough, musically, hidden behind the poor technical quality of these records to warrant continued search for a better copy of the film. The power of Bessie's solo moans is strongly suggested, and it would be good to hear more clearly her singing of the song itself against the over-arranged chanting of the choir (which comprises the customers in the cafe in which the last section of the action takes place) and filling-in by the band. There is less likelihood that improved reproduction would yield much of value in the long band passages which take up most of the last half of this album. Still, a new set of dubs from a better print would increase the historical value of these discs and give the engineers a cleaner shot at a couple of side breaks. There was once a showing — 13 or 14 years ago — at a meeting of the Hot Club de France in Paris, so there's no telling where another print of "St. Louis Blues" will show up. Anything by Bessie Smith should be saved. (Circle Album S-6) "Collectors' Items" Capitol has solved the problem of what to do with odds and ends left over from several sessions, including those which went into its alleged "History of Jazz" series. It has even covered up by pointing out (both on the front and inside covers) that these sides have never before been issued. This gives the impression that these are unexpected gems from a forgotten past and not just some loose items made between May, 1944, and May, 1947, more by accident than by design, and with no significance except that this is the most convenient way to release them — so putting on the cover, "Collectors' Items, Previously Unissued," is a little pretentious. The quality of the music is a little more even than the make-up of the album. This is not, however, to be construed as a compliment. The quality is generally at a rather uninteresting level, and is quite persistent in staying there. The groups represented had best be covered in separate paragraphs ; there is no consistent plan in the album and it defies any common ground other than these sides were left around, see, and now here they are : 1. Stan Kenton opens the set, playing T ravelin' Man. Anita O'Day's vocal occurs RECORD CHANGER \v If' K 4 W |to if. h jnii % ; nor Btil