Larry Kart

That the members of the Resistance unit whom Melville depicted had a good deal in common with gangsters morally was one of the film's points. Recall, for example, the killing of Simone Signoret’s character when the Resistance unit's leader admits that even though has no way of knowing whether she betrayed them, an example must be made. Likewise perhaps, but also inside out, the real-life gangster who was the model for the character Lino Venturi played in “Le deuxieme souffle” was a notorious collaborator with the Nazis during the war. BTW, in Signoret’s autobiography she recalls the shooting of the scene of her death in “Army of Shadows,” which was tricky because it had to take place amidst real people, not extras, on an actual city street, and they would get only one chance to get it right. Just beforehand, Signoret asked Melville for guidance at to what expression she should have on her face at the moment she realizes she’s going to be shot -- guilt because she had betrayed the group, perhaps? Said Melville, “What makes you think you did?” As a result, the expression on her face arguably was perfect, one of unreadable enigmatic consternation.

You don't think it's immoral to say that if you admire late Coltrane, you're mentally ill? What claim that a group of people who are not mentally ill ARE mentally ill do you find morally acceptable? Also, FWIW, that piece was quite calculated/written in cold blood. It was not a mistake or an aberration but, as I said above, "essentially an act of provocation, an attempt to kick up a fuss in order to further John's profile as a Truth-Telling Noble Traditionalist."

This detour came up when JSngry posted this re: the Savory collections focus on Benny Goodman: "Chicago's own...what's the guy's name, John McDonough? he used to be one of those staunch Goodman advocates back when I read the mag, going back to the 70s. Didn't have a problem with that per se, b/c BG did have some really excellent bands, but I was troubled that he was quite often dismissive of Ellington, and there's always something weird to me when somebody has that extreme of a divide." I then responded with further details because I've known McDonough since high school, and down the rabbit hole we went.

The Coltrane thing is both revealing and well nigh unforgivable IMO -- and BTW the piece didn't come from the '60s, when Trane was being labled "anti-jazz" by John Tynan and all sorts of other alarmed defenders of the status quo in jazz but from the '90s, long after Trane was dead. Revealing and unforgivable because it was not so much, if at all, an expression of taste on John's part (lots of reasonable people of various ages don't like post-"Chasin' the Trane" Coltrane) but a solemn insistence that there could be NO rational reason to like late Trane and that those who said they did were either lying or that their belief that they did find value in this music was a sign of mental illness. If you don't see how morally ugly that is... Also, though I don't have the piece in front of me, my recollection was that it wasn't even a genuine piece of bitchery but essentially an act of provocation, an attempt to kick up a fuss in order to further John's profile as a Truth-Telling Noble Traditionalist.

The question is when and all why John fell in love with Frazier's work. Based on my fairly clear memories of John in his early days, I'm pretty sure it was because Frazier's dandiacal tone, image, and views evoked an aspect of the world just before John was born, as aspect of that world that he very much wanted to embrace and even return to, even though the latter act was impossible. Again -- as I think I said above -- it's one thing to love and be fascinated by the art of the past because of its artistic virtues and another thing to do so as a means of expressing your distaste for the present. Hey, I have a taste for Benny Goodman, but not because his music somehow stands opposed to that of Charlie Parker or, heaven forbid, Ornette Coleman. (Again, BTW and if memory serves, John's taste for the jazz past pretty much begins only at the advent of the Swing Era and its social-musical paradise. For him, Jelly Roll Roll Morton, Johnny Dodds, et al. are just precursors or even primitives.) An excerpt from John's bio in our 50th high school reunion book: "One way or another, it would seem, we're all outcomes of our adolescent obsessions.... For me -- and this may sound silly -- it was a fascination with a period of American life that I had just missed by a generation: the '20s, '30s, and '40s." Sounds harmless so far, and it's led to some genuine journalistic accomplishments on John's part, e.g. uncovering those Lester Young army documents. But when it extends to that Down Beat piece that claims that those who admire later Coltrane are mentally ill? If you think that was an aberration, you don't know your man.

Good friend of and early influence on Jim Hall. I have this album, but the one time I listened it didn't make much of an impression on me: https://www.amazon.com/Erb-Symphony-Overtures-Concerto-Percussionist/dp/B0028VFIO2/ref=sr_1_8?s=music&ie=UTF8&qid=1469472585&sr=1-8&keywords=donald+erb

I'd have to go back again to be sure, and I do doubt myself in this (if only because of the weight of Krupa's mostly negative reputation), but there are times when I've thought while listening to BG's small groups that Krupa was the Tony Williams of the Swing Era. That is, his interjections/decorations or what you will were at once compositionally coloristic and rhythmically meaningful, albeit meaningful in a significantly different, more discursive (if you will) manner than the work of Jo Jones, Catlett, et al. In particular, placing Krupa's actual merits and debits a bit to one side for the moment, one ought not to get caught up in a "progressive" narrative of jazz's rhythmic styles and development. Krupa, I would say, comes from a Chicago-style approach in those realms, an approach that he helped to shape; and one could argue that -- again placing a bit to one side the "wave" of jazz's historical stylistic development -- it too had/could continue to have (at least until it became too "historical"?) its own musical validity. Not quite the same thing, I admit, but did Lester Young's undeniably more "progressive" approach invalidate that of Coleman Hawkins? Further, as the example of Sonny Rollins' relationship to Hawkins should perhaps make clear, is it not possible for any number of aspects of a style that has been more or less been run over by the "progress" of history to later on recur quite strikingly, albeit in somewhat altered forms, because another master finds them necessary and meaningful.

Bow-tie contrarian is perfect. Hey, if he could get away with it, he might wear spats. And carry a cane,

I said of the young McDonough and of the later McDonough as well, "while I don't doubt that John really likes the music he really likes, he likes as much or perhaps even more what he thinks it was like to have been alive and kicking in that world, would go back and live there forever if time travel were possible." There is a difference between liking/loving some of the music of the past because of its undoubted virtues (BTW, McDonough's roster of beloved music of the past pretty much cuts off BEFORE as well as after the Swing Era) and liking/loving the musical and societal past because it is (so one believes) inherently opposed to the present -- such that one's love for that musical and societal past in part stands for one's hostility toward the musical and societal present and one's desire to more or less escape from and/or overturn it. In other words, McDonough is a blend of the nostalgia-hound and the reactionary.

Have the Muhal and B. Harris discs. My memory of the Muhal disc is that much of the time Don Cherry sadly was at a loss as to how to play on those pieces, and that this seemed to discombobulate the rest of the band a fair bit. Cherry certainly knew how to respond to Monk's music -- he does so beautifully on Steve Lacy's "Evidence" -- but a fair amount of time (about 20 years) had passed between that recording and these concerts.

Amplifying my previous post -- when John was in high school, someone (this is true) once described him as a young fuddy-duddy.

I know what you mean; OTOH on first listen I liked that she didn't try to get bluesier than it was in her to be but instead went in another direction.

Thanks, Jim. Can't imagine why it sounded unusual to me.

BTW, Jim, can you tell me in what key Reed sings "St. Louis Blues"? Sounds unusual to me.

Just began to listen to "This Is Lucy Reed." Wow! Not quite like any other singer I l know. As intense an interpreter of lyrics as, say, Jeri Southern but deeply boldly musical (Southern, by contrast often was a lyrics-first singer IMO) with some quite novel, striking musical ideas, plus the grain of her contralto voice is right up my alley (not unlike Irene Kral, though I believe Reed preceded her). As for her ear, listen to how she weaves through those daunting Gil Evans and George Russell arrangements.

Yes, McDonough pretty much joined (or tried to join) himself to BG at the hip (and to John Hammond as well). John might be thought of as a Swing Era Moldy Fig, if you know what I mean -- even though the Swing Era was coming to end when he was born (probably in 1942, same as me; he was a high school classmate of mine). That is, while I don't doubt that John really likes the music he really likes, he likes as much or perhaps even more what he thinks it was like to have been alive and kicking in that world, would go back and live there forever if time travel were possible. I think John has gone on record that his favorite writer on jazz, social style, etc. is the late Boston newspaper columnist George Frazier. Google should fill you in on who Frazier was; if it don't, I'll give it try. Didn't know that John was dismissive of Ellington -- that's crazy.

Don't think that are many still living who think of BG as being in a league of his own, but while I never was quite in the necessary evil camp (though close to it, in part because I much preferred Artie Shaw in the Goodman versus Shaw sweepstakes), I eventually warmed up to BG many years ago. The man sure could play; above all, he was a swinger.

Just listened to the first of those above. Beautiful -- and it kind of rearranged my brain for the better.

That formerly young man is a nice player too.

A good one: https://www.amazon.com/Sessions-Sonatas-Martino-Fantasies-Impromptus/dp/B00000DFWN/ref=sr_1_1?s=music&ie=UTF8&qid=1468626657&sr=1-1&keywords=roger+sessions+helps Also worthwhile: https://www.amazon.com/Roger-Sessions-Symphonies-Composers-Orchestra/dp/B00FZ1MEUS/ref=sr_1_5?s=music&ie=UTF8&qid=1468626806&sr=1-5&keywords=roger+sessions+symphonies Don't know this one, but the performers have good track records: https://www.amazon.com/Roger-Sessions-Music-Violin-Piano/dp/B011QLB3N4/ref=sr_1_9?s=music&ie=UTF8&qid=1468626847&sr=1-9&keywords=roger+sessions A very worthwhile collection, with one Sessions work in (I believe) its only recording. The Di Domenica is fascinating IMO: https://www.amazon.com/Carter-Variations-Orchestra-Wuorinen-Bamboula/dp/B0002JZ2Z2/ref=sr_1_12?s=music&ie=UTF8&qid=1468626907&sr=1-12&keywords=roger+sessions

Met him a few years ago in NYC. Went to dinner and then to Smalls with him, his wife, and a relative of hers. A warm and very intelligent man and a heck of a player.

Only three Monk tunes out of six in all, but Steve Lacy's "Evidence" with Don Cherry is top-drawer, especially "San Francisco Holiday."

The Holman album is interesting but rather un-Monk-like. Oil and water, or maybe oatmeal and chili. Best Monk large ensemble tributes I ever heard were the two Chicago Jazz Festival re-creations of the Hall Overton Town Hall concert, the first with Mal Waldron, the second with Randy Weston, and with as many of the original players as were still among the living. IIRC, Chuck Nessa was largely responsible for both of those events, certainly for the first one. I have a cassette tape of the earlier of the concerts. IMO that band played Overton's charts better than the Town Hall band did. A good small group tribute is the first Sphere album (not a single artist, I know, but one group). Rouse sounds better there than he usually did with Monk, and the tempos are just right.

Jazz pianist and champion jingle-writer Dick Marx (at one time in the '60s Chicago was the jingle capital of the U.S., which is why some veteran Chicago jazz players who worked on those jingles ended well-off financially for life -- royalties each time the jingle was played!) always was Dick Marx, a Chicago fixture and father of rock musician Richard Marx: http://articles.chicagotribune.com/1997-08-15/news/9708150244_1_mr-marx-richard-marx-jingles Los-Angeles-based jazz pianist Bill Marx was Harpo Marx's son. Not in good health in later years IIRC, Reed did continue to sing and at her best was quite marvelous, lots of emotional depth a la latter-day Billie Holiday. She made at least one album in that period of her life; I think it was on Audiophile. P.S. The reason those Chicago jazz guys were jingle studio stalwarts was that the guy in charge, in addition to someone like Marx, was an ad agency person who thought he knew what he or his bosses wanted but didn't know much about music. Thus the musicians often would have to adjust on the spot, with time being of the essence, to vague or inchoate verbal directions/complaints, a la "That's not it -- I want more 'crackle and crunch'" or "It should be more like peanut butter." Jazz guys were capable of responding to this; most "straight' players less so. The Audiophile album: https://www.jazzology.com/item_detail.php?id=ACD-273

I heard Finola in Chicago in the late '60s when he was the cornetist in a fine band that Art Hodes led, with bassist Truck Parham and drummer Hilliard Brown. George was a soulful player.