206. Frank Sinatra / In the Wee Small Hours (1955)

Though not as languished as 1959's No One Cares, this album of ballads sets the bar for melancholy, as well as being the first of the themed (and innovative) full-length LP's that Sinatra recorded for Capitol. Gordon Jenkins arranged and conducted on No One, but originally it was Nelson Riddle at the stand. The collaboration is magical. Riddle's restrained treatments underscore the mood of each lyric and magnify their impact. Sinatra expertly uses breath control and different vocal textures to interpret the material while Riddle's charts employ orchestral color at all the right incidental moments. Sinatra sings the passages carefully, sounding deeper and more mature than ever before. The frankness of songs like "Last Night When We Were Young," "I See Your Face Before Me," and "When Your Lover Has Gone" have secured In the Wee Small Hours a permanent place in the hearts of many fans. It remains one of  his most satisfying and moving performances on wax. More than a routine set of ballads, it only takes a few notes to know that Sinatra is making these songs his own. At the same time, they're yours too.

194. Louis Jordan & His Tympany Five / Choo Choo Ch'Boogie (1999)

Choo Choo Ch'Boogie is another terrific compilation of golden era R&B from the ASV/Living Era imprint. Jordan was a versatile vocalist whose act ran the gamut from vaudeville to jump to gut-busting blues. His smooth delivery and expertise with turning a phrase took dancers from cutting figures on the floor to falling down laughing. He was also an altoist with a nimble technique whose reserve of power drew comparisons to Earl Bostic. The set is a good representation of his repertoire from 1940-1947. In crisp audio, it includes famous numbers like his own "Caldonia," "Five Guys Named Moe," or "Let The Good Times Roll." But the playlist also has novelties like the hilarious calypso with Ella Fitzgerald (both ex-Chick Webb), "Stone Cold in de Market" or "What's the Use of Getting Sober (When You're Gonna Get Drunk Again)?" No stranger to the drink whose wife Fleecie twice tried to kill him by stabbing, Jordan sings these with confidence! His blues are followed by his alto, with nary a breath between verse and chorus. "Ration Blues," "Somebody Done Changed The Lock on My Door" and "Ain't that Just Like a Woman," show Jordan working his charm with sly double meaning and steamy intent. Fans of early rock and roll or Chicago blues will appreciate Jordan's work, and this is a fine place to start. Babs Gonzales, Slim Gaillard, King Pleasure, all similar.

189. Donald Fagen / Morph the Cat (2006)

Morph the Cat is a good representative of the Donald Fagen solo catalog. It is every yard a Fagen product whose pristine sonics and glossy group choruses recall the perfectionist grandeur of Aja and underplayed soul vamps of Gaucho or Nightfly. I prefer the guitar on Morph by Wayne Krantz, his variety of techniques and effects, to the guitars heard on Sunken Condos. Fagen also rocks the Fender Rhodes, ringing in that classic Steely Dan sound. Some lyrical themes nod in the direction of the aged, slyly morose matters explored further on Condos. But at this stage, our heroes, perhaps, aren't as willingly resigned to their fates as they will be in 2012. Some of these characters make the best of the New World Order, however, swaggering into the 21st century as if it were still 1975. Like the guy who picks up the TSA girl in "Security Joan." Fagen is the only living writer other than Murakami who can write a guy into a one night stand at the airport. But they're not all success stories. Former showbiz kids make jaundiced appearances in songs like "The Night Belongs to Mona," or the the unwitting pokes whose night vices all lead them to meet the man in the "Brite Nightgown." You'll be in familiar company with the motley assortment, and all nine tracks are rendered in sparkling audio.

187. The Complete Jazz at the Philharmonic on Verve, 1944-1949 (1998)

After being evicted, in a word, from Los Angeles' Philharmonic Auditorium in 1946, Norman Granz retained his revue's catchy name and took the show on the road. For the next several years, various incarnations of "Jazz at the Philharmonic" played for audiences across Europe and North America. The historically important concerts were recorded and released, pimples and all. In fact, they represent some of the first commercial "live" albums ever made. Some were broadcasted on big radio stations, and extensive touring allowed audiences in isolated locales to see performers who never would have reached them. A notable feature of the Philharmonic lineups was that they juxtaposed veterans of the swing era with younger players of bebop. Rosters included Slim Gaillard, Lester Young, Coleman Hawkins, Charlie Parker, Roy Eldridge, Illinois Jacquet, Billie Holiday, Gene Krupa, Hank Jones, Ray Brown.... too many to list them all here. These styles were often in stiff opposition, and their players unlikely to play together. Stories abound of the politics wrought by the odd marriage of styles. I've read critics who fault Granz for "forcing" jams and contests between players, but most listeners enjoy the results. I'm with the latter camp, and I rank these records among the most essential of all.

186. Duke Ellington / Sophisticated Lady (1996)

Sophisticated Lady is another cull from the legendary RCA sessions. It's a good one. Selections from the period also appear on the three-disc set, Never No Lament. But that, or Bluebird's Blanton-Webster box that spawned them all, are going to make one hell of a dent in your bankroll. On the other hand, you can buy Sophisticated Lady over at Amazon for the princely sum of one penny. I know, you have enough Ellington at home and will forgo this stage in the endless saga of repackaged jazz music. Still, a penny? I'll wait here while you go and get one. Back already? When it arrives in the mail, you'll appreciate the diversity of material and engaging sequence. Duke's best pieces are present, and there is a fair mixture of instrumental and vocal music. With Blanton at the wheel, it swings like a hammock. There is magic from start to finish. Like Kay Davis' electrifying vocal that makes "Mood Indigo," followed by Webster's whispering tenor. Tricky Sam Nanton's trombone should get you "In a Sentimental Mood," but beware the three sirens telling you "It Don't Mean a Thing if it ain't Got that Swing" (Joya Sherrill, Kay Davis, Marie Ellingon). The affair heats up to a frenzy courtesy of Jimmy B. Then Ray Nance sings "Just Squeeze Me," Al Hibbler chimes in on "Solitude"... Nothing to shake a stick at here, this is real music. This is what it all means. This is "it."

163-165. Chick Webb / Rhythm Man (HEP CD 1023) Stompin' at the Savoy (CD AJA 5416) & Stompin' at the Savoy (FABCD 119)

I've recently come across three similar compilations of the swing drummer and bandleader Chick Webb, who was affectionately known to his friends and admirers as "Little Man." Webb was a prominent leader on the '30s swing circuit, perhaps best known for introducing the world to Ella Fitzgerald who led the band following his death. Although short lived, Webb's orchestra was respectable and performed on par with the Ellington, Basie, Lunceford, Redman, and Henderson bands. Tragically, Webb died in 1939 so we don't know what kind of magical music he would have continued to make as the swing craze really took off.

All three records feature common selections in the playlists, all are released as public domain music by UK labels, but that's about where the similarities stop. If I could pick only one, I'd go with Rhythm Man. It has superior audio (transfers by John R.T. Davies), detailed liner notes including arranger credits and order of soloists, and two versions each of "Blue Minor" and "On the Sunny Side of the Street." If I could pick two of the three, then the ASV disc is the next clear winner. It has bright audio with excellent definition up top, but somewhat stingy in the low end. Like the Stompin' disc by Fab, it includes some later material not heard on the Hep release (hear "A-Tisket, A-Tasket"). Fab's Stompin' suffers from dismal and murky audio that sounds like gratuitous noise reduction, as well as some artificial reverb and overly loud levels. For all of its clarity and definition, the ASV's Stompin' sounds like it could be running a bit fast. Given, the difference in speed is only really apparent by listening to the two discs in contrast. Presently supplies are limited and ASV/Living Era imprint is defunct so better get on the stick if you'd like to own one today.

The following is a summary breakdown of each album, and should it interest you, I prepared a .PDF to download here which graphically compares the playlists of each album.

Rhythm Man  

Hep Records  

HEP CD 1023

Has a lot of earlier material, not included on either of the others. Excellent audio definition, transfers done by John R.T. Davies. Best liner notes and discographical information. Lacks later material, and there are no vocals by Fitzgerald. Two versions each of "Blue Minor" and "On the Sunny Side of the Street."

Stompin' at the Savoy

ASV/Living Era (imprint)

CD AJA 5416

Contains everything on FABCD 119 except five songs. Lacks earlier material found on HEP CD 1023. Good definition and clarity, however, sounds like maybe running fast. Lower end tends to lack body. Later recording of "Sunny Side" and "Blue Minor." Fitzgerald on "A-Tisket, A-Tasket." Out of print and limited availability. Pretty good liner notes.

     

Stompin' at the Savoy 

Fabulous

FABCD 119

Similar playlist as CD AJA 5416. Muddy sound lacks definition and high range possibly due to noise reduction. Is that artificial "concert hall" reverb that I hear? Boo! Speeds seem inconsistent - some too fast, others too slow. Levels are hotter than ASV, and a little less than Hep. Earlier recording of "Blue Minor." Limited liner notes and discographical information.


     

144. Yma Sumac / Voice of the Xtabay (1950)

Xtabay is the Peruvian soprano's famous American debut. Its release was in 1950 when she signed to Capitol and began thrilling audiences with an astonishing range of nearly five octaves. The songs were composed and arranged by Les Baxter along with husband Moises Vivanco, and John Rose. Exotica aficionados will appreciate the presence of Baxter but Vivanco actually gets most of the credits. Some of these tracks, or at least snippets of them, have appeared in advertising campaigns and movie soundtracks, so there could be many listeners who are familiar with the voice but unaware of who it is. Selections combine catchy snatches and "exotic" percussion with lush jazz instrumentation and strains of Peruvian folk music. Some songs are haunting and ethereal ("Virgin of the Sun God"), some are delightfully quirky ("Monos"), and all feature Sumac's captivating voice. She doesn't just sing, either, but breathes, chants, yelps, croons, and shouts. It's invigorating! If you're new to this vocalist, then you could get one of those greatest hits compilations, but you'd do just as well to start here, and it's a very nice item for the shelf.

134. Chet Baker / Live in '64 and '79 (2006)

Baker's music definitely matured, although his development is sometimes difficult to appreciate given how his drug habit impacted his life and performances. This DVD from Jazz Icons shows him playing with two European groups, 15 years apart. In the '64 quintet I sense tension between the underplayed Baker and overactive pianist Rene Utreger, who is constantly throwing heavy handed chords at the end of Chet's phrases, sometimes before they appear to be completed. It's like a leadership dispute, and the band or producers clearly have their own ideas about who falls where. In spite, Baker manages a lovely "Time After Time," though the quintet's take on "So What" seems like a missed opportunity. Baker has trouble finding space to express himself and fights with the group, and also has difficulty with the intonation. The second performance is from '79 and begins with an interview that segues into "Blue Train," in progress. Baker says his lyrical approach to improvising has become more subtle with experience and the performance reflects this. The drummerless quartet is much more together than the '64 group, thankfully, and Baker's rich sumptuous tone pervades the set. Although "Blue Train" is truncated (which stinks, because what we do hear is beautiful), we get a heavy swinging and creative take on "Softly As In a Morning Sunrise" with Baker's smoothly flowing melodic improvisation, the occasionally interesting turn of a chord, and overriding melancholic appeal. Also notable are pianist and vibraphonist Michele Graillie and Wolfgang Lackerschmid. I like this installment of Jazz Icons for the contrast it provides between a younger Baker and an older, perhaps wiser player with a more respectful band.  

131. Ahmad Jamal / In Search of Momentum (2003)

Jamal is an excellent player, strong as ever and still developing past age 70. In Search of Momentum is a prime example, the kind of record that makes other new things feel stale (here "new" is 2003). His enthusiasm for contrasting percussive block chords with what I like to call 'negative space' on the piano is matchless. His style is ever more rhythm driven, and it's full of energy for standards like "Where Are You." In the opening "In Search Of" he plays with some sly quotes that bring a grin. In "Should I?" he characteristically mixes a heavy left hand with intermittent flourishes of the right, building to thundering crescendos a la Erroll Garner, then reclining in moments of delicate quietude. He works closely with his excellent trio, who are James Cammack on bass and Idris Muhammad (a personal favorite, nice to see him here, too) on drums. Jamal is aggressive and often angular, and his style shouldn't be a stretch for fans of more overtly experimental pianists like Cecil Taylor. O.C. Williams joins Jamal for the beautiful "Whisperings," the album's sole vocal spot and another opportunity for Jamal to stretch out his dynamic approach to the keyboard. And by the way, the liner says that Jamal's hat was designed by Ishmullah's Famous Hats of Oakland, California. Too bad Monk wasn't around long enough to endorse men's haberdashery.

126. Babs Gonzales / The Chronological Classics: 1947-1949 (2000)

Babs Gonzales was a fringe character in jazz, although he garnered a devoted fan base. I have a difficult time finding him a slot in my head, which I guess a lot of people must. So I'll file him with King Pleasure on one side and Screamin' Jay Hawkins on the other, not too far from Slim Gaillard and Betty Roche. The chief characteristic of his music is a bebop inflected vocal style somewhere between scat and vocalese, with occasional forays into conventional lyric singing. He had lots of friends on his records: Tadd Dameron, Art Pepper, Sonny Rollins, Bennie Green, and James Moody to name a few. This disc contains just what its title describes. Included are his legendary sides for Blue Note with Dameron on piano, as well as his work for the smaller Apollo and Manor labels (enjoy Green and Moody on Manor). Also here are eight sides recorded by Capitol, three of which were rejected. These groups contain a young Sonny Rollins, Art Pepper, J.J. Johnson, Roy Haynes, as well as Wynton Kelly, and Pee Wee Tinney on guitar. It's a motley bunch of tunes and dudes that are charming ("Running Around"), humorous ("A Lesson in Bopology"), or spooky ("Weird Lullaby"), but always good fun. Appreciate them for containing the work of other notables, or on their own merit. You won't find much like Babs anywhere else.

115. Joe Lovano / Celebrating Sinatra (1997)

Joe Lovano here performs his version of the Great American Songbook by interpreting one of his more powerful muses, Frank Sinatra. I read Lovano's single page in the accompanying booklet and I can't disagree with him. Sinatra was consistently great for the duration of his career, and exerted a powerful influence on succeeding generations of musicians. The effect continues and this 1997 album is a prime example. As Lovano and crew cut through classics like "I've Got the World on a String," "In Other Words," or "Someone to Watch Over Me," they meld modern sensibilities and at least five decades of stylistic development in jazz with Sinatra's timeless swing. It's a natural setting for Lovano, like balm for the soul. He grew up with Frankie playing all around him, and it immediately conjures memories of his home and family, notably his Aunt Rose Verzi. A Sinatra devotee who saw him in person hundreds of times, she sounds pretty cool! Lovano was certainly taken by his auntie. His ballad work bubbles with ideas and earnest sentiment. The arrangements and orchestration aren't just tasteful, they're clever, too, as in the aforementioned "String" where Lovano weaves in and out with the cello to make a play on the lyrics in the song. Or the wild and nasty group sections culminating at the end of "One for My Baby." During "South of the Border," Lovano lets George Mraz have the first chorus, giving a new context for Lovano's solo to emerge in, instead of jumping right off the melody. The result is really fresh. Every track is as good as the next, so hats off to Joe Lovano for indulging his passion and recording this set of Sinatra staples. As with other Lovano records, it stands up heartily to repeat listening.

109. Julie London / Julie is Her Name (1955)

Julie London's range and the timbre of her voice is one that sits very well with me. Ensconced within her silky mezzo soprano is a space filled with sumptuous partials and overtones that make a single note sound like a chord. Her voice and my wife's are quite similar so when I listen, I sense something familiar. In the classic debut Julie is Her Name, London's young voice is the main attraction and backed often by only a guitar. Her phrasing and timing leave you on the edge of your seat, wondering where the next phrase will fall ("It Never Entered My Mind"). She's always playing this way with the lyrics and her timing, while Barney Kessel anxiously holds back comping. Later in her career, she fronted a big band whose eloquence and power gave her smoldering vocals and lovelorn ballads some extra emotional impact. But here it's all Julie. The album opens with the quintessential "Cry Me a River," and moves through 12 other standards and ballads including aforementioned, quirky "It Never Entered My Mind," and the beautiful "Laura." There's also a second volume, which is just as bit as this first volume, two records that should be on every jazz lovers shelf.

101. Buddy Tate / The Texas Twister (1975)

Tate was with Basie in the early days but has many dates to his own name and was a leader whose career lasted well into the '90s. His sound on The Texas Twister is large and assured, with occasional wailing outbursts, but it's less assertive than some other horns associated with the Count, like Eddie Davis or Illinois Jacquet. And I like that, too. But the music on Twister swings close to the Basie band in more ways than one. To start with, there's the addition of Paul Quinchette on tenor. The first number "The Texas Twister" is an uptempo 32-bar intro to the proceedings that showcases both horns (Tate on the left, Quinchette on the right), and has game piano work by Cliff Smalls. I thought it could easily go a few more rounds but the leaders opted to be concise and it's off to the next tune once the front line gets back to the head. Further in the Basie vein of blues-based small group swing, we also get Tate singing a la Jimmy Rushing in several cuts, including two installments of "Take Me Back Baby" that showcase Tate's sweet vocal and the impact of opposed horns. The arrangements feature some expected dueling, a mature and more relaxed but no less exciting form of the stylistic counterpoint from the old days. It happens between Tate and Cliff Smalls, too, as in "Talk of the Town." Tate opens the tune in a whispering voice that is soon hammered by Smalls' angular piano statements directly on top of the beat. Tate returns to state his piece every bit as eloquently and reserved as before, endowing the ballad with some very poignant sensibilities. Tate also plays clarinet, on "Chicago" and the closer "Gee Baby," adding further depth to the quintet. It's a good session and thoroughly enjoyable listen with a few hidden surprises.

93. Etta James / At Last! (1961)

In James' debut long player, the young vocalist demonstrates her versatility in a variety of related musical forms (pop, soul, rhythm and blues) while bringing her strongest suit (the blues) to make an impact in all. Raw ballads ("A Sunday Kind of Love" and "Stormy Weather") or songs approaching bubblegum if not for James' gravely vocal ("Tough Mary") are rendered as justly as the pair of Willie Dixons ("Spoonful" and "I Just Want to Make Love to You"). Her style combines different vocal techniques, vacillating between the heartbroken spoken-word to a gut-wrenching growl, or thin, girlish whisper. She is really exciting in tunes like "Trust in Me" when she careens through the whole arsenal in the span of a few seconds. It's an emotional roller coaster, a wild ride. Leonard and Phil Chess had the wherewithal to see James' crossover potential, and invited Riley Hampton to add strings to the session. This gives Ms. James an eloquent backdrop that frames her voice in stately beauty. The CD reissue includes several singles not issued on the LP, like the above "Spoonful." 

91. Duke Ellington & His Orchestra / Never No Lament: The Blanton-Webster Band (2003)

This superb 3-disc set from Bluebird compiles all the master takes  from 1940-42, plus a handful of juicy alternate takes. These sides are for the Duke catalog what the Complete Decca Recordings are for Basie. The comparisons should generally end there, but I just want to convey how important they are not only to the group, but to the notion of jazz itself. And finally, justice was done to this historic music in terms of packaging and audio quality (I say finally, but we've had this set for 10 years now), a clear improvement over previous digital offerings. If you already own RCA's Complete Duke Ellington set and you're only a casual listener, then there isn't much to entice you into repurchasing. But if you lean the way of the completist, or you're more serious about your collection, then you really need to have this on your shelf. It's many people's favorite Duke orchestra, and in hindsight the stand looks like a murderer's row of jazz legends. Of course you get Ben Webster and Jimmy Blanton, but there's also Cootie and Cat Anderson, Sonny Greer, Juan Tizol, Ray Nance, Rex Stewart.... the list goes on and on, without even getting into the vocalists. I'm not going to bother talking about individual tracks because we all have our favorites, and there isn't a lemon in the bunch. Above all, this music proves that eloquence is truly timeless.

88. Various Artists / Ultra Lounge Sampler (1996)

Without buying every disc in the Ultra Lounge series, you can have a nice cross-section of what the series offers in the slick Ultra Lounge Sampler. The CD came clad in gaudy leopard print fuzzy fabric that will inspire the animal in you at the next cocktail party or late night rendezvous. Each disc in the series focuses on a specific sub-genre of exotica, like Space Age, Tiki, Mambo, etc., and this collection dips its toes into each. I can dig the variety, and good sequencing makes a nice ride. It starts off with a real bang, or rather a real hoot and a chirp, with the archetypal "Mondo Exotica" by Martin Denny. Following are the wild vocal contortions of Yma Sumac, and then it's straight to Cape Canaveral with "Glow Worm Cha-Cha-Cha." The Rhapsodesia section is a nice touch, putting Julie London's syrupy "Go Slow" (don't miss "Teach Me Tiger" either!) right after two swingin' tunes by Louis Prima and Bobby Darin. There's a lot of pop nostalgia here, and it's all handled by the best studio orchestras in the business.

72. Frank Sinatra / No One Cares (1959)

This collection of lovelorn standards is about as dark as Sinatra gets. The selections, with orchestra, were arranged and conducted by Gordon Jenkins. They collaborated on several other albums for Capitol, and oddly enough this is my favorite. Sinatra supposedly referred to this as a set of suicide songs, although I haven't verified that. One might listen and think some levity is in order, but is it really? While the material and arrangements are stormy (the photo on the jacket ain't no joke), the mood is a nice change of pace and Sinatra's mature performance is rich and captivating. He sings confidently and in good voice, working through the likes of "I Don't Stand a Ghost of a Chance," "I Can't Get Started," and the superb "Stormy Weather," and a handful of others big and small. I think some of these performances might be worthy of their own benchmarks, even as high as the bar was set by other performers in earlier times. Enjoy the CD which contains several previously unreleased bonus tracks.

37. Duke Ellington / Ellington Uptown (1952)

It seems like Ellington Uptown gets short shrift, which could put off a listener who hasn't heard it. It really needs another look because it's an excellent album, and the orchestration and arrangements are especially good. Duke's work is like pizza: when it's good it's great and when it's bad... well, was it ever bad? Be honest. Even when it wasn't that great, it was still better than most everything else. By comparison, I think some of Duke's legacy is unfairly praised. All the "three minute masterpieces" are cracking good sides, but they're not all on the same level, and so the mediocre ones are elevated to a higher status partly by association and partly by critics who haven't listened to them all. Yet Duke's work from the 1950's languishes in the shadows, right at the moment when his famous soloists had matured and were really hitting a stride. With that in mind, this set swings really hard and practically lifts you off the floor. The arrangements are the full-length concert arrangements, closer to what the band was doing on stage rather than something they cooked up just for the record. There's even a live cut ("Skin Deep") with a famous drum solo by Louie Bellson. My favorite moment, on an album filled with favorite moments, is listening to Betty Roche sing "Take the 'A' Train." She had such a fun and playful style, like improvising a scat vocal that self consciously stabs at bebop. I love it when she sings her last line and leans off the microphone as the massed band blows in behind her. It sounds like the girl is falling backwards into an approaching tidal wave. So enjoy these chestnuts, which may be another example of Duke reinterpreting his back catalog, but are also a darned good example of what this band was all about.  

18. Nancy Wilson / Nancy Wilson & Cannonball Adderley (1962)

Wilson appears with Cannonball and brother Nat, singing six of 11 selections. The remaining instrumentals are the stock and trade of the Cannonball Adderley Quintet, a group that prospered playing hard bop with a heavy helping of blues and soul. The addition of a vocalist produces a velvety sophistication that is very appealing. Wilson's songs are dustier selections that depart somewhat from standard fare and make a cracking good program. Most importantly, the chemistry between Wilson and the quintet really cooks. Nat uses the mute to good effect, augmenting his brassy tone with an even more strident edge ("Never Say Yes"), while Cannonball tears through some hot leads of his own on (like "Teaneck" and "Unit 7"). Wilson seems right at home in this setting, her voice like just another instrument in the front line. She is gifted with an expressive range, as in "(I'm Afraid) the Masquerade is Over" where she quietly laments her blues with Zawinul tinkling in the background, ultimately breaking into the next register, climaxing, and bringing the song to a thunderous close. Wow.