Tag Archives: Duke Ellington


VincentLopezSaxSection1926VerticalIn trying to describe what makes Bennie Moten’s saxophone section so wonderfully different from any other in the continuum, I started to think about what jazz listeners have come to expect from the entity known as a “saxophone section.” The following began as an introduction for the Moten posts, went in its own direction and then turned into some random thoughts on this very important part of the jazz orchestra. The reader may be able to extract some larger point, or at the very least enjoy the music and photos.

jazz-consortium-bandleaderblogdotcomPaul Whiteman called the saxophone section the string section of a big band. There’s more to his comparison than plush harmonies and fast scales. Just as the string section of a classical orchestra identifies the group as another link in a particular musical tradition, while distinguishing the best orchestras as unique members of that particular musical community, so does the saxophone section of a jazz big band. That’s not to diminish the distinct sound of a particular brass or rhythm section. Yet what instrument signifies “classical” like the violin, or “jazz” like the saxophone?

http://archive.org/details/BenPollack-91-100Think of Benny Goodman’s well-drilled but warm foursome under Hymie Schertzer’s transparent lead, or Earle Warren’s searing alto atop the twin tenors of Lester Young and Herschel Evans, with Jack Washington anchoring it all on baritone. Duke Ellington’s saxophone sections patched together various reeds in different combinations yet remained instantly recognizable despite, or because of, their versatility. Whiteman wasn’t just commenting on notes in a score or crafting good copy: how much does a single note from this instrumental part reveal about the musical whole?

Walter Thomas, Andrew Brown Arville Harris, Eddie Barefield in 1934The modern saxophone section lives and thrives by concerted blend and drive as well as the power of its soloists. Woody Herman’s “four brothers” section is best known for solos by Stan Getz, Zoot Sims, Herbie Steward, and Serge Chaloff, but their famous titular number shows how well they work(ed) together as well as individually. The best sax sections are their own band within a band. There’s enough differentiation of register and timbre between the two to three instruments that comprise the section to create a self-contained ensemble. At the same time, solid improvised solos splintering out of the unit are a given. Several “Meets the Sax Section” albums illustrate the idea, as well as how powerful that idea has remained for listeners.

Vanguard Jazz Orchestra c/o nj.comThe swing era may not have introduced the concept of a saxophone section (which was already de rigueur for dance bands by the twenties), but it did codify a certain conception of it. From the big, rich sound of Count Basie’s new testament saxes, through the Thad Jones-Mel Lewis band grooving under Jerome Richardson’s greasy soprano, to the thick, ultra-precise reeds directed by Bob Mintzer and other contemporary players, there’s a clear expectation of what a saxophone section should “do,” which still allows individual texture and growth.

Mingus Big Band JazzTimesUnlike the classical string section, where individual tone is incidental to the “ideal tone” taught and striven for in conservatories, the ideal tone in a jazz band is the musician’s tone. Individual timbres may balance one another but never disappear into the mix. Every metaphor has its limits…

Thomas County Central High School Saxophone Section

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A Very Brief History of Jazz via “Tiger Rag”

everynote.comThis list is more stylistic than chronological, and certainly less than comprehensive, but hopefully it still provides a fair overview of the music’s development.  At the very least it shows that good musicians never play “the same old tune.”

Note: The New Grove Dictionary of Jazz defines a “contrafact” as “a melody built upon the chord progression of another piece (after contrafactum, in medieval and Renaissance music).”

From there the tiger’s trail turns cold, but readers are encouraged to share examples  of “Tiger Fusion, Tiger Latin, Tiger Atonal, Tiger Hip Hop” or their own favorite exploration of the tune.

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Charlie Johnson, Straight Out of the “Holy *$#%!” Files

Charlie Johnson led one of the most popular jazz ensembles in Harlem, right around the time some guy from DC was starting his own career as a bandleader.  The rest, as they say, is footnotes.

Most historians concentrate on the nascent big band language contained in Benny Waters and Benny Carter‘s arrangements, painting the Johnson band as just another stepping stone in some inevitable teleology of jazz.  Listening to the band as its own entirely unique animal, with one foot in Jazz Age stomp and another in Swing Era architecture, is far more rewarding (not to mention fairer to the musicians).

This writer used to experience great satisfaction and great disappointment that the band’s complete, teasingly scant recorded legacy was contained on one French EPM Jazz Archives CD he purchased as a teenager, with subpar sound and inaccurate personnel listings (still available for premium price!).  Yet it was all that was available and all he needed, until now.

Thanks to the miracle that is the internet, here’s the Johnson band in all of their steaming, unissued and unearthed glory:

Thanks to whoever posted this brand new side on SoundCloud, and to the erudite trumpeter and jazz historian Yves Francois for spreading the news.  Keep ‘em coming!

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If (Only) Alan Sokal Wrote Jazz Criticism

Aesthetic, Not Anesthetic is honored to welcome Dr. Philippe Glas as a guest blogger today. He currently serves as Professor of Odontological Philology at the University of Oxbridge on Loxhamshire, and his book, “This Is Not a Gaspipe: The Hermeneutics of Wilbur Sweatman,” will be published next spring. Today he’ll be offering his insights into a well-known jazz classic. Enjoy!

Perhaps Duke Ellington’s best performance is not any musical performance but his performative “It don’t mean a thing if ain’t got that swing,” which defamiliarizes that which does not swing as no-thing-at all, literally non-thing, nothing or no-thing, a semiotic trap that also inverts the relationship of that which does swing, so often seen and heard as the other, now the “thing” reading otherness into the non-swinging nothing which declared that which swings to be the other in the first place! Ellington not only succeeds in escaping non-swing constructs (and therefore slipping the knot of “naught,” of nothingness) he uses the same constructs to lock the no-swing no-thing into the antithesis of everything the rationalizing universalist superstructure stands for, namely meaninglessness. By consigning the no-swing to no-thing and the absence of meaning, truth and other totalizing concepts, Ellington damns the unswinging to Hell on its own bourgeois terms.

It may seem as though Ellington consigns himself to his own purgatory of binary oppositions: his no-swing no-thing in turn generates the “swing…thing,” in turn generating a totalizing, totemic categorical categorization that holds all it beholds to the dictum, “swing, or face oblivion.” Yet Ellington slips another knot, that of narrow universalism, by reifying a signifier that has no signified other than the signified expressed in its signification. The “thing” called “swing” has been debated and deified while defying definition and systemization. Even if arguendo swing is a recognizable sonic phenomenon, and even discounting localized, autochthonous discourse, “swing” may be a “thing” but it is a thing that is at times dialogic, at times agonistic, at times even communicative but always discursive. The swing thing’s embedded, pregnant textuality, its capacity to be forever created and recreated yet never codified (though sometimes codafied), never snapped shut between the even eighth notes and hyper rational simulacra of the West, in turn affords the swing thing an infinite life, beyond the mere sound of its supposed revealing. “Swing” is “the thing” more thing than anything, an unending thing, and therefore everything and no (mere) thing.

Looks like we only ‘thought’ we knew Ellington’s tune well! Thank you, Dr. Glas!

Three Guesses…

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Opine, Y’All: M. Figg’s Desert Island Jazz at the Moment

In an effort to keep International Jazz Day going and keep my money where my mouth is, here’s a few suggestions for weekend or anytime listening.  They’re completely a matter of opinion, in no particular order and categorized in a completely subjective manner.  So start drafting those syllabi and get thee to the library/download queue!

The Stuff We All (Are Told We Should) Know (and Maybe) Love
-Louis Armstrong, The Hot Fives and Sevens: the first jazz soloist that sounds like “jazz” to most listeners.
-Charlie Parker, on Savoy, Dial, Verve, etc., take your pick: finding an off-day is hard, but not impossible, and not even really that “off.”
-Duke Ellington, any of the Suites: Ellington as a mature composer, weaving textures and colors jazz could never look back from.
-Charles Mingus, Mingus Ah Um: experimentation rooted in history.
-The (Old or New) Smithsonian Anthology of Jazz: love ‘em or hate ‘em, it’s hard to argue with the music packed into these collections.

Big Bands (A Choice of Instruments, Not an Era)
-Count Basie’s recordings for Decca: as swinging and soloistic as it gets!
-Benny Goodman, The Harry James Year, Volume I: also as swinging and soloistic as it gets, just different!
- Fletcher Henderson, A Study in Frustration: there is simply no music that sounds like Henderson’s late twenties sides, period, and his band’s alumni roster reads like a who’s-who of jazz greats.
-Don Ellis, Electric Bath: jazz that made electric sounds work, before “jazz got electric,” as well as often cluttered, static, fuzzy and unswinging.
-Miles Davis with Gil Evans’ Orchestra, Porgy and Bess: a jazz concerto with orchestrated improvisation, courtesy of jazz’s Debussy and its prince of darkness.

Chinese Music*
*Cab Calloway’s clever term and this blog’s leanings aside, the following albums feature lucid phrases and swinging rhythm, as well as a lot of fancy scales.
-Dizzy Gillespie with Sonny Stitt and Sonny Rollins, Sonny Side Up: worth it for “The Eternal Triangle” alone.
-John Coltrane, Blue Train: blues, ballads and blistering, balanced bebop; could there be a more perfect album?
-Clifford Brown with the Max Roach/Sonny Rollins Quintet, Complete Studio Recordings: CAUTION, might make you want to give up playing, or learn how to play!
-Miles Davis, Milestones: Davis’ melodic sense, Coltrane’s harmonic deconstructions and Cannonball Adderley‘s bluesy runs, all on top of an ideal rhythm section of Red Garland, Paul Chambers and Philly Joe Jones; could there be a more perfect album?

Goodies but Never Oldies
-Jelly Roll Morton‘s Red Hot Peppers: swinging, imaginative and just plain good music, no flatted fifths* or bass drum bombs* needed.
-Louis Armstrong, name something made before 1930: not to demean his later work, but his recordings as a sideman and developing bandleader are simply an entity unto themselves.
-King Oliver‘s Creole Jazz Band: the Plato‘s Republic of jazz, filled with phrases and rhythms that laid the foundation for jazz as a distinct art form.

-John Coltrane, Ballads: the man not only knew how to play a melody, he positively relishes it on this album.
-Charlie Parker, Bird with Strings: an enchanting but commercial aspect of Parker’s career? Bold experiment with lyricism and texture? Either way a wholly unique experience.
-Benny Goodman’s  Trios, Quartets and Sextets:Body and Soul,” “Moonglow,” “Memories of You,”Stardust,” “Poor Butterfly,” and others, with Goodman, Teddy Wilson, Lionel Hampton, Charlie Christian and others stretching out…could there be a more…what?  I said that already?  Twice?

Unsung Heroes
-Clarence WilliamsColumbia sides, washboard groups or any of a thousand pseudonymous groups: jazz polymath Williams led some of the most exciting, unique groups in the twenties, more than worth the search through Amazon to hear.
-Red NicholsRed Heads, Five Pennies, with Miff Mole’s Molers or any of a million pseudonymous groups: unfortunately marching to the beat of your own horn and making a living while doing it doesn’t often lend itself to jazz posterity.  One of the most unique and despised musicians in history who’s only now beginning to get some long overdue credit.
-New Orleans Rhythm Kings: a joyous, airy beat, transparent ensembles and great soloists (playing in the twenties and who aren’t Louis Armstrong or Sidney Bechet!)
-Sahib Shihab & The Danish Radio Jazz Orchestra: if this collection of dynamic soloists and intriguing charts set to a juggernaut rhythm had been created and released by an American group under the name of a more well-known bopper, it would still be a shame to miss out on.
-King Oliver’s Dixie Syncopators: Oliver led this big band after his legendary Creole Jazz Band broke up, filled with a variety of soloists and a decidedly earthy touch to dance band arrangements.
-Buster Bailey: clarinetist with a stunning technique, tossing out endlessly sunny lines that rarely gets his due.  See also “Don Murray.”
-Don Murray: clarinetist with a stunning technique, tossing out endlessly sunny lines that rarely gets his due.  See also “Buster Bailey.”
-Ed Allen: brilliant for a clean ensemble lead or rhythmically loose solo, no wonder Clarence Williams used him on so many sessions.

New Stuff (i.e. Released Within the Past Year)
-Esperanza Spalding, Radio Music Society: imaginative arrangements and clear production only add to the sheer catchy joy of this album.
-Vicious World, Plays the Music of Rufus Wainwright: heartbreakingly beautiful songs given tasteful, airy arrangements.
-Ambrose Akinmusire, When the Heart Emerges Glistening: admittedly an album I’m only now getting around to, filled with massive emotions that make it kryptonite for concentrating on anything else.
-Terrel Stafford, This Side of Strayhorn: melody and swing, great tunes…melody and swing, unfamiliar material from a gifted composer…melody and swing, a leader who understands his sidemen and vice versa…melody and swing

Once in a while us hobbyists come in handy.  Have a great weekend and happy listening!

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Who Cares About Duke Ellington’s Birthday

From scuffling musician, already trying out new orchestral textures with his first group in 1924:

to star bandleader at New York’s hottest hotspot The Cotton Club,

and Swing Era icon,

as well as a composer who changed the way jazz was played, heard…

and even defined:

Duke Ellington would have turned 113 years old today. Somehow it seems like a very small footnote to the music he continues to make.

Next Sunday we’ll resume ‘Sundays with Vivaldi,’ but I’d like to think one great composer would want to celebrate the birth of another.

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Clarence Williams: Good, Great and Gone

Speaking of neglected talent, where do you put a successful pianist, singer, bandleader, composer, manager and publisher in the annals of jazz?  If it’s Clarence Williams, square in the footnotes.

Largely forgotten to everyone except twenties aficionados and record collectors and occasionally mentioned for bringing Louis Armstrong and Sidney Bechet together for their gladiatorial first encounter, Williams was born just outside New Orleans, touring by age twelve, ran successful publishing houses in New Orleans, Chicago and New York, accompanied and managed the likes of Bessie Smith and Fats Waller and composed (or at least collected royalties for) early jazz standards such “Royal Garden Blues,” “Baby Won’t You Please Come Home” and “T’aint Nobody’s Business If I Do.”

Most histories treat Williams as a better businessman than musician, glossing over the hundred or so recordings he made under his own name for various labels throughout the twenties and early thirties.  Williams was a competent pianist and at best a charming singer, yet despite never being a great performer he still created some of the most unique jazz of the prewar era.

The best Williams sides combine the relaxed, airy beat of his hometown with simple but effective arrangements influenced by  Northern dance bands.  “Close Fit Blues” couples unsung hero Ed Allen’s cornet and Cyrus St. Clair’s tuba commentary with a pastoral clarinet duet from Fletcher Henderson‘s star sidemen Buster Bailey and Coleman Hawkins:

“Breeze” strikes a similarly pacific mood, starting with trombonist Ed Cuffee barking against a limpid sax trio.  It combines theme and variation at the same time, followed by Williams’ tender singing [just click the arrow to play]:

When Williams turns up the heat, as for example on “Sweet Emmalina,” it’s with a broad, gentle but driving energy, far removed from the jerky intensity of many other bands of the time and with St. Clair’s slap tonguing, on tuba, as an added treat timbral effect [just click on the song title to listen]:

Sweet Emmalina

Williams also knew when to just let soloists stretch out.  “Sweet Emmalina” and “Dreaming the Hours Away” forego snappy arranged introductions and simply let Bailey cut loose, with an especially finger-busting solo on “Dreaming.”  Later on, Hawkins sweats out a stabbing, metallic solo before the two reeds provide clarinet and sax riffs that make Williams’ little band sound much larger.  Jelly Roll Morton and Duke Ellington weren’t the only bandleaders experimenting with textures around this time:

Dreaming The Hours Away

Williams is best known for the Armstrong/Bechet recordings,  but he usually employed the same core of imaginative, now obscure players in addition to occasional guests from big name bands.  Allen was one of the most imaginative pre-Armstrong hornmen.  On “I’ve Found A New Baby” with a Williams washboard group, the cornetist’s scorching lead and rhythmically liberated lines make his historical neglect seem all the more surprising:

I’ve Found A New Baby

Reedman Albert Soccaras also appears on several Williams’ sides, including hot flute solos like the one on “Have You Ever Felt That Way” predating Herbie Mann by a few decades:

As for Williams’ own piano, he provided solid harmonies and steady, bumping rhythm underneath it all.  The piano rolls and solos he recorded may never have given his client and collaborator James P. Johnson anything to worry about, but Williams’ real instrument was his ear.

For a faithful but utterly individual tribute to Williams, check out the Hot Antic Jazz Band at the Whitley Bay Jazz Festival, captured by Elin Smith and posted on Michael Steinman’s (excellent) blog here.

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Jazz Where It Belongs: Strange, Derivative and Monochromatic

Given Jazz Age assumptions about which bands were supposed to play what, and the frequency of jazz-tinged instrumentals in Joe Candullo‘s discography, it’s remarkable that  the violinist and bandleader was able to record quite a bit of music other bands were simply expected to play. The same ratio of hot to sweet music was the norm for Duke Ellington, Bennie Moten or Charlie Johnson.

Occasionally double standards come in handy. Had the Candullo band’s family trees or repertoire been different, they might just be another jazz band, or another (most likely forgotten) dance orchestra. Luckily, the “novelty” of these players’ backgrounds draws attention to real musical discoveries. The tight ensemble, instrumental variety and tense but energetic beat on “Black Bottom” reveal some distinct archaic pop:

Candullo added his own sound to several tunes that Moten, Fletcher Henderson and King Oliver also recorded. Doc Cooke‘s band, featuring the pugilistic Freddie Keppard on cornet, gave “Brown Sugar” a raucous, red-hot treatment, while Candullo’s version simmers the themes and instrumental textures into a warmer feel [follow the link to listen]:

Joe Candullo & His Everglades Orchestra – Brown… by kspm0220s

Historian and collector Mark Berresford notes that “why and how Candullo and his men got to record such material is a mystery.” By the Swing era, the sounds of Harlem, New Orleans, Kansas City and other territories were well known in popular music. Yet saxophonist and bandleader Charlie Barnet‘s unabashed admiration for Ellington, Henderson and Count Basie would earn him a reputation as a derivative stylist, a second-rate soloist and another pop musician getting rich off of others’ creativity.  Assuming that musicians can play great music without innovating, Barnet left behind plenty of upbeat, passionate music.  It’s fairly obvious (and not just from the titles) where performances such as “The Duke’s Idea”

and “The Count’s Idea”

come from, but the emulation is sincere, flattering and far from an exact duplicate of its source material. Barnet was clearly a student of Coleman Hawkins’ tenor and Johnny Hodges’ alto, but does that make his own sax any less swinging and assured? He was also one of the few big band leaders to frequently incorporate the soprano saxophone. It adds a shimmering lead and tongue-in-cheek blues statements to “Pompton Turnpike”:

Thank goodness audiences and critics have moved beyond evaluation by association: just ask Elvis Presley, Jimi Hendrix, Leontyne Price, Eminem, Karmin…

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Jazz is Dead/This Isn’t Jazz, Part Etc.

Photo courtesy of The Atlantic online

Both Robert Glasper’s Black Radio and Esperanza Spalding’s Radio Music Society feature talented young artists who are primarily associated with jazz.  Both albums draw upon hip hop, r&b, neo soul, and other styles that often outstrip jazz in terms of airtime on that device mentioned in both titles.  Unsurprisingly, both Radio outings are also making a lot of headlines.

While not the first experiments along these lines (Miles Davis had his fingers in several pots his entire career, Glasper had begun to explore similar territory on Double Booked and Nicholas Payton’s Bitches proudly incorporated radio-friendly sounds, albeit with less media attention), and in all likelihood just the tip of this genre-breaching iceberg, the release of these efforts within weeks of one another and their corresponding media attention have generated familiar discussion regarding the future of jazz, its intersection with more popular styles and the potential dissolution of the former into the latter.

The script for this latest episode of “jazz meets the new(est) thing” is similar to previous seasons that included guest-stars rock, world and electronic music.  Some critics and musicians, notably Glasper himself, treat jazz’s diminishing popular appeal as the inevitable outcome for an art form that has stubbornly refused to market itself to new and wider audiences, even as that art form stubbornly continues to enter the debate decade after decade.  Jazz musicians and commentators have been reticent to define “jazz” at least since Duke Ellington expressed his own reservations about the term (which, as Stanley Crouch points out, perhaps had more to do with the negative social connotations of that word during Ellington’s youth than its musical signification).  Yet whatever jazz is, it keeps popping up alongside every new stylistic kid on the block.

Other voices have a very clear picture of what “jazz” means, and advocate for the music in its purest i.e. earlier nature.  Their definition usually sounds like recordings from Blue Note, Prestige and Atlantic released through the late fifties, or anything but what’s popular right now.

Many present day commentators choose to define jazz according to a musical aesthetic neither its earliest practitioners or contemporary exponents bore witness to.  Part of the joy and frustration of listening to the earliest recorded jazz is the way jazz materializes alongside ragtime, vaudeville, Tin Pan Alley, dance tunes and other musical styles Americans enjoyed throughout the twenties and thirties.  At that time, blue notes, vocal inflections on instruments, improvisational flights and an uninhibited rhythmic thrust  were startling musical ideas, as foreign to their first-time audiences as sampling, rapping and breakdowns are to some contemporary jazz listeners.

King Oliver and Fellow Purveyors of Strange, Perhaps Socially Deviant Sounds

Many perspectives on what jazz is gloss over the fact that jazz was something very similar to hip hop: a new, exciting and for some listeners an intimidating musical expression, deeply rooted in African-American communities, which shaped all aspects of American popular music and culture.  Today, jazz thrives as a distinct mode of expression: it says something in a different way than hip hop, rock, r&b, polka, etc. (that’s why these modes are called “styles”).  Audiences leave it up to artists (such as Mozart, Ellington, Charlie Parker, Miles Davis and now perhaps Glasper and Spalding) to blend and transcend these modes, but there are things that still make “jazz” jazz, and “hip hop” hip hop.  Like some far guiltier pleasures, audiences know what they are when they hear them.

"Oh dear, I can't tell if that beat is hot or phat!"

Listeners (such as this writer) should simply be grateful to have a variety of music to experience, enjoy or pass on.  Both knee jerk innovators and diehard purists aren’t doing those listeners any favors.  Jazz’s rhythm, harmony, virtuosity and interplay, its powerful little way of blending the earthy and the intellectual, make it a unique force unto itself.  Celebrating its demise in favor of new directions (or selling more albums) denies whole generations a special form of expression.  Insistent reductionism of that expression accomplishes the same ends for all the other music out there (while adding credence to the perception of jazz as an insular, academic pursuit).

It’s a great big wide world, why not put all of it on the radio?

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Jazz In The Family: Eddie Durham Lives At DurhamJazz.Com!

Working for my father’s home improvement business during high school taught me to appreciate the hard work supporting our household.  It also paid for the music in my earphones, which were usually on full blast as I swept floors and fetched coffee.  I listened to a lot of music working the family business, but one job still stands out because it introduced me to Eddie Durham.

I had just purchased the Count Basie collection playing on my Walkman as I stuffed insulation.  After a string of bright, up-tempo tunes including “One O’Clock Jump,” “John’s Idea,” “Out the Window” and “Swinging the Blues,” a moodier, minor key piece materialized.  It had the same loose Basie beat and spare but powerful ensemble figures.  Buck Clayton‘s tart-toned muted trumpet was also recognizable.  Yet the chromatic drawl I heard gave the band a more structured, darker persona.  All the dusty, scratched cassette case in my pocket told me was that the song was called “Topsy.”  A lot of curiosity and a little research told me that this was Eddie Durham:

I also realized that I already knew of Eddie Durham without knowing who Eddie Durham was.  He had arranged all those other numbers for the Basie band, and his name would keep coming up in the recordings of Jimmie Lunceford, Artie Shaw, Glenn Miller and Jan Savitt.  Later on I would discover his electric guitar on the Kansas City Six sides he made with other Basie sidemen for the Commodore label.  Eventually I would have to stop counting the number of times I uttered, “Wow, that was Eddie Durham on trombone!”  My career responsibilities and knowledge of jazz have changed since first hearing “Topsy,” but more importantly I keep encountering Eddie Durham.  It’s just a matter of knowing where to look.

Durham doesn’t receive the same attention as contemporary arrangers like Don Redman, Sy Oliver or the legendary Duke Ellington.  His trombone playing never spurred any followers the way Jack Teagarden did, and Charlie Christian’s pioneering work has overshadowed Durham’s electric guitar as well as his influence on the young Christian.  Eddie Durham is easy to appreciate but not always easy to find.

Durham’s children, daughter Marsha “Topsy” Durham and son Eric, are helping to change that.  Their website honors their father with fastidious, loving care. From Durham’s beginnings as a musical director for a wild West shows to his post-retirement comeback, visitors can read about Durham’s life, peruse photos, find links to other sources and even enjoy a concise, informative documentary featuring Dan Morgenstern, Loren Schoenberg and Vince Giordano.  It’s an incredible resource and tribute to their father’s legacy.  In the meantime we’ll all look forward to hearing more of Eddie Durham.

Look, learn and best of all listen at DurhamJazz.com!

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