Here’s part three of an insightful documentary on YouTube about Bill Rank and his performances in Holland. Rank is best known as a sideman with Bix Beiderbecke, but “Santopec” comments on a confident, unique trombonist who continued to grow long after Beiderbecke’s Goethe-esque early passing:
The incredible technique is still there after “all those years,” even more well integrated into a highly personal (though clearly indebted to Miff Mole) style based off of wide intervals and suspended harmonies. The difference is a surer, more rounded sound and suppler sense of construction, which allows those leaps and notes to color Rank’s inventions rather than anchor them (as they occasionally do on earlier records). Hearing Rank’s music on its own terms, without any legendary colleagues surrounding it, is the real find.
As for the “modest and captivating” person playing these solos, he confesses to embarrassment at the privileged treatment by his Dutch fans, and he still pronounces the name of an admired colleague with a Midwestern clip (“Adrian Roll-IN-e“). Not much to do with the music, but sometimes the brain and heart behind the notes matter. Who’d have thought?
Political correctness advises that age should have nothing to do with how we evaluate the playing of eighty-year old “Wild Bill” Davison and eighty-three year old Newell “Spiegle” Wilcox. Apparently both musicians, as well as lifelong jazz aficionado, drummer and Tonight Show host Johnny Carson thought otherwise:
A few things stand out here. Of course there’s the music, including a beautifully cohesive clarinet solo and an upbeat rhythm section. The walking bass and drum accents underneath the “Dixieland” front line point to musicians playing dynamically but sincerely, rather than faithfully recreating some earlier era or obsessively keeping up with the stylistic Joneses. In other words, this is jazz, on The Tonight Show.
As for the headliners, it’s remarkable to hear them for reasons besides their ability to receive a senior citizen’s discount at the cinema. Wilcox was an important but under-recorded part of Jean Goldkette‘s seminal records, and only started to gain more attention (and a lot more solos) much later on in his life. It may have been due to the trombonist’s longevity, or perhaps it was simply the right time to hear what he had to say.
Davison himself explains that he had been “Wild Bill” for several decades already, and while he seems to hold back slightly for The Tonight Show audience, his crackling tone and driving lead are still a force of nature. He started his career in the twenties, and is perhaps best known for his work with various Eddie Condon and Commodore groups during the thirties and forties. It’s easy to think of artists frozen in time at some supposed peak, but Davison was also a gigging musician who lived and played until 1989. Based on the sound of that horn, he doesn’t seem like the type to rely upon social security for income.
Finally, they’re on The Tonight Show, with Johnny Carson, in their eighties (and yes, in the eighties), not only playing jazz but playing “jazz” as defined by two octogenarians, laughing it up with the host and at one point even discussing embouchures. It’s hard to imagine a similar scenario on any current late night talk show. That’s worse than a value judgment, that’s a simple observation.
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.
The Pop of Yestercentury 