Larry Kart

Also, not to dig my toe in the ground, but the only cachet I think I should have or that I want to have is if what I'm saying seems interesting and makes sense. If it doesn't, there's no badge that will make it so.

I'm not saying that LT is a Rollins copier or that he's not readily recognizable as himself. Rather, my point is that LT incorporates into his own work (or used to incorporate -- I left the room some years ago, there's only so much time) a fair number of Rollins' most personal "emotive figures" -- those chortles, burps, guffaws etc. that every fan of vintage Rollins is familiar with. Further, as I tried to explain, those figures seem to me to be so personal to Rollins, especially in terms of the humorous/ironic role they played in his musical language as a whole, that their decorative use by other players just creeps me out, especially when it serves (as it almost always does) as a sign of how "heated" and "emotional" they are or are supposed to be at that point in their solo. So when you get all lathered up to the point where you are semi-overcome, you're moved to speak in/"borrow" Sonny's voice? Something about that ain't right IMO.

Indeed, he did! Jack Lewis was the A&R man behind many of Victor's best jazz releases from the fifties. Yes, he did supervise the Jazz Workshop series, but judging by the nature of much of his less adventurous work for RCA, I think he essentially just OK'd the JW projects (for which he certainly deserves credit). The musical supervision, I'd bet, was pretty much in the hands of the respective composers-leaders: George Russell, Hal McKusick, et al. Again, I wouldn't mind having full access to the RCA/Jack Lewis jazz catalogue of the time and being able to pick and chose, but there was IMO an air of routine to the typical RCA date of the Lewis era. And when there was some welcome focus and spark, as on the Cohn-Perkins-Kamuca album, I suspect it came from the musicians taking things in their own hands far more than from Lewis. Another way to look at it is that the RCA/Lewis material was essentially a byproduct of the relatively flush NYC recording studio scene of the mid-1950s, when guys like Milt Hinton, Osie Johnson, Al Cohn, Nick Travis, Barry Galbraith, Bernie Glow, Billy Byers, Manny Albam, etc. were playing in and/or writing for a floating studio big band that found itself in whole or in part in recording studios on dates of all kinds as often as 16 or more hours a day. Thus an air of the routine was almost inevitable when those guys assembled, though it could be broken through. I would say that the vast majority of the guys who recorded for RCA were drawn from that pool of musicians, with the exception of actual Basie-ites like Joe Newman, Thad Jones, Henry Coker, etc., and the West Coast people that RCA recorded (who were of course drawn from the LA equivalent to the NYC studio scene -- though I don't know if Lewis was the A&R man for the West Coast material). What potential Mosaics are in all that material? I don't have a list of all the stuff that RCA produced in the Jack Lewis era (BTW, I see that Al Cohn with Four Trumpets album is on the new Mosaic set), but unfortunately it looks like Fresh Sound has been there first in many instances ("unfortunately" because Mosaic could do it better and also because even when Fresh Sound is operating on the square, it feels to me like they are not). I believe that much, maybe all, of the Jazz Workshop material (George Russell, Hal McKusick, et al.) material has made it to Fresh Sound, plus there's a Fresh Sound that combines some RCA McKusick (the date with a string quartet and Manny Albam charts -- much better than one might think, with some gorgeous McKusick clarinet) with stuff he did at the time for other labels. A Rod Levitt Mosaic Select has been wished for before. For those with a taste for such things (I'd probably bite), a Sauter-Finegan Mosaic would be nice. Whatever else, those were fantastic-sounding recordings, and it would fun to hear them restored to their original glory if possible. Is there enough for a Mosaic Select of the Maynard Ferguson Dream Band? I'd probably pass, much preferring Maynard's band of the Roulette era, but it would be nice to have the option. Of individual albums of note, Mosaic has already done "The Brothers." RCA's subsidiary labels "X" and VIK had some interesting stuff: one forgotten gem is a Chuck Wayne big band/small group album with some of trumpeter Don Joseph's best solo work, "String Fever," reissued on CD on Euphoria, a guitar-oriented label; there are George Handy's two for "X," a blowing date with Allen Eager, Ernie Royal, and Kai Winding, and an interesting if precious at times orchestral album whose title I can't recall, both I believe on Fresh Sound now; and I've always had a soft spot for John Benson Brooks "Folk Jazz USA" (VIK), with Nick Travis, Zoot on alto, and Cohn on baritone. Fresh Sound also has put out the Nick Travis RCA quintet album with the Flora cover, "The Riot Is On," a collection of RCA Pete Jolly small group material that I have on order, and, I'm sure, much else that RCA did on the West Coast, including lots of Shorty Rogers. I'd love to see a complete list of RCA jazz albums from the '50s. I probably heard most of them at the time. But please spare me from "The Drum Suite"!

You're right, but I don't recall that I went into much detail. My main problem is that while I love vintage Sonny Rollins and in principle have to admit the possibility of there being good-to-excellent Rollins-influenced tenormen, when guys start to come up with some of Rollins's very specific/personal chortles, burps, and guffaws (as I think Tabackin does; in fact, LT not only imitates but also often exaggerates them), I run from the room with my hair on fire. Now it would be possible, of course, though difficult, to do what I think LT does as a sort of further humorous/ironic commentary on Rollins's own fairly extreme (and again quite personal) tendencies in that direction. But what I hear from LT and some other Rollins-drenched guys from his and later generations sounds to me like puppetry -- not that it's easy to do, but I feel like I'm listening to someone snatch away another unique man's living breath. I'd say BTW that this is not true, or not true to the same degree or in the same way, of most Trane disciples of however many generations -- while problems certainly lie in wait for them, the problem of speaking so directly in another man's voice is not high among them because I think Trane's "cry" was to some considerable degree generic (I mean that positively, as though Trane's voice were both personal and also inherently that of many or even a multitude, a la the bare-breasted woman at the barricades in Delacroix's famous painting; the same might be said of Young or Hawkins [though for somewhat different reasons in both cases, but Rollins' voice, when it gets emotionally specific in the way I have in mind. is not at all generic IMO]). An example of a Rollins-drenched guy who usually doesn't give me that "stealing the living breath" feeling would be Ralph LaLama. Among younger players, an interesting case is Grant Stewart -- who has considerable melodic and rhythmic gifts but can at times get too close for my tastes to specific Rollins-esque emotive figures; and now that I've stumbled aross that phrase, "emotive figures," perhaps that's the gist of what I have in mind. Rollins came up with and handled such figures in a way that I think was both new to jazz and unique to himself, in that these emotive figures not only were highly (almost luridly) emotive but also were quite self-consciously/knowingly (and usually humorously/ironically) so, such that the play between those figures and the rest of his musical-emotional vocabulary was a key part of his language. Can't think of many Rollins-influenced guys who have much a clue there. Actually, Archie Shepp probably did for a hot minute. And Ed Wilkerson Jr. does.

Of this piece, if I had to choose, Perlemutter. Likewise with much of Chopin, but I'm certainly not up on everything that's available -- don't know Engerer and Feltsman for example, though I do know and like some of Feltsman's Bach. I have tried much of Rubinstein's RCA Chopin, mono and stereo; it always seems bland to me, despite AR's reputation in this music. Again, I think other composers, esp. Brahms, were his real forte. On the other hand, I haven't heard AR's EMI Chopin (from the 1930s), which is said to be much more urgent. His EMI version of Op. 44 certainly is, but, as mentioned above, it is sabotaged by the inability of the recording to capture a key sotto voce passage.

I knew I should have kept my mouth shut.

Indeed, he did! Jack Lewis was the A&R man behind many of Victor's best jazz releases from the fifties. Yes, he did supervise the Jazz Workshop series, but judging by the nature of much of his less adventurous work for RCA, I think he essentially just OK'd the JW projects (for which he certainly deserves credit). The musical supervision, I'd bet, was pretty much in the hands of the respective composers-leaders: George Russell, Hal McKusick, et al. Again, I wouldn't mind having full access to the RCA/Jack Lewis jazz catalogue of the time and being able to pick and chose, but there was IMO an air of routine to the typical RCA date of the Lewis era. And when there was some welcome focus and spark, as on the Cohn-Perkins-Kamuca album, I suspect it came from the musicians taking things in their own hands far more than from Lewis. Another way to look at it is that the RCA/Lewis material was essentially a byproduct of the relatively flush NYC recording studio scene of the mid-1950s, when guys like Milt Hinton, Osie Johnson, Al Cohn, Nick Travis, Barry Galbraith, Bernie Glow, Billy Byers, Manny Albam, etc. were playing in and/or writing for a floating studio big band that found itself in whole or in part in recording studios on dates of all kinds as often as 16 or more hours a day. Thus an air of the routine was almost inevitable when those guys assembled, though it could be broken through. I would say that the vast majority of the guys who recorded for RCA were drawn from that pool of musicians, with the exception of actual Basie-ites like Joe Newman, Thad Jones, Henry Coker, etc., and the West Coast people that RCA recorded (who were of course drawn from the LA equivalent to the NYC studio scene -- though I don't know if Lewis was the A&R man for the West Coast material).

I've known the Cohn/Newman/Greene material since it first came out, and IMO it's rather dull compared to other "mainstream," more or less neo-Basie dates of the time, e.g. the stuff that John Hammond did for Vanguard. If I had to point to a particular reason why, it might be the freeze-dried Basie licks of Nat Pierce and (perhaps) the over familiarity (with each other) of Milt Hinton and Osie Johnson, but the atmosphere is a bit mechanical and "by the numbers." Perhaps it's just the RCA-ishness of it all. A lot of the things that came out there under the aegis of Jack Lewis had that mechanical, etc. feel -- or so I thought at the time, though there are few oddities (say, "Al Cohn with Four Trumpets") that I'd like to hear again, based on dim memories that there was some sparks in the air that day.

New Ideas also should be checked out for vibist Al Francis.

As a partial answer to Kalo's question about Ohlsson's Chopin, here's a post (mine) from Mar. 8 comparing his version, Perlemuter's, and Pollini's of the Polonaise in F Sharp Minor, Op. 44: Chopin's Polonaise in F Sharp Minor, Op. 44. What an incredible piece of music! I'm listening to three versions over and over -- Pollini's, Perlemuter's, and Garrick Ohlsson's. Pollini's is startlingly intense and, for want of a better term, gaunt -- almost skeletal. There's lots of power here from Pollini, and it's a piece that calls for that a good deal of power much of the time, but it's quite dry tonally -- deliberately, I think, in the name of a modernism that looks askance at most Romantic era gestures. And yet Chopin at his most intense and startlingly innovative -- and this piece would be one of those places -- was a Romantic era figure. Nonetheless, the Pollini is a keeper. He's especially good with the transition to section three of the piece (the bizarre mazurka interlude) from section two (the stamping "military" section, where repeated "A"s ring out against fierce, insistent, also repeated march-like figures; this section being one of the craziest and most powerful things I've ever heard -- see Charles Rosen's "The Romantic Era" for a great discussion of it). Ohlsson is powerful almost beyond belief in sections one, two, and four (the coda). He must have gigantic hands, the bronze sonority he gets, while a tad unvaried, is thrilling, and he brings out those repeated "A"s like gangbusters. (In Rubinstein's energetic, spontaneous 1932 recording of the piece, the repeated "A"s are inaudible -- no doubt the fault of the recording, not the pianist -- which makes that whole section virtually meaningless.) Also a tad unvaried, though, and a bit of a problem, is Ohlsson's rhythmic sense; there's nothing terribly wrong there, to my mind, but I'd like a bit more "bend" or "give" at times. Ohlsson almost sounds like he's trying to prove how tough and "masculine" Chopin really is, which in a piece of such power is like spraying sweat on a Olympic weightlifter. Where Ohlsson does lets me down though is in the mazurka section, where he gets soft and tinkly/moon-y salonish for a time. This is not how this music should go, I'm sure, and Perlemuter makes that clear. His mazurka magically flows right out of the "military" brutalities of section two and is, in some impossible to describe (at least by me) manner, contiguous with them -- all this thanks in large part to Perlemuter's wonderful rhythmic and tonal "rightness"; he gives me the feeling that this is Chopin playing Chopin. On the other hand, though Perlemutter throws himself at the piece's technical barriers without flinching, he doesn't have the chops one wished he did; while the power is there in terms of scale (which probably is crucial), and the superb rhythmic grasp is undeniable, there is a fair bit of smudging at times -- in part because it's a Nimbus "tiled-bath" recording, in part because Perlemuter's fingers at his advanced age wouldn't quite do his bidding. And yet he's great in section two; those repeated "A"s aren't quite as hammered out and hallucinatory as Ohlsson's, but Perlemuter seems to have a better (or perhaps just a different) sense of way they're there and therefore how to play them. Again, as with the mazurka section versus section two, Perlemuter's more or less "integrates" what is in fact meant to be quite odd and disturbing and thus makes it odd and disturbing in a more intimate manner. In effect, the weirdness feels as though it were as much in you as it is out there. I love Perlemuter. And, again, what an incredible piece!

At times he's underpowered or whatever, due mostly to age, but Vlado Perlemuter understands how Chopin should go IMO, and usually he brings it all home. Rubinstein is a pianist I've come to admire greatly just recently but not in Chopin -- in fact, it was my lukewarm response to his Chopin on repeated exposure over the years that led me to go to sleep on his marvelous way with Brahms, Mozart, et al.

Meadow is in the Mob world at its most primitive and brutal when it suits her. For instance, in the last episode, when she "allows" Carmella to bring up the subject of how she was insulted by Coco, it seems to me that she knows exactly the sort of revenge that Tony is going to take on her behalf. She has no problem with the rightness or wrongness of the kind of power that Tony can exercise, though she might prefer to look to one side when things gets especially ugly. In fact, I'd say that she's arguably less compartmentalized in this respect than her mother -- which is among the reasons that I believe and hope that Meadow's violent demise will be a key a part of the series' grand climax. Certainly, if Tony survives, nothing could leave his soul more mortally wounded than the knowledge that his daughter's blood is on his hands. P.S. My son is convinced, and I believe he's right, that the two Muslim guys that the FBI is asking Tony about are really undercover FBI agents, and that the whole thing is a sting operation that will end up with Tony being nailed on terrorism charges. As you'll recall, Tony, through Christopher, did sell them weapons; now the FBI is establishing that Tony himself thinks they're terrorists. A tunnel closed at both ends. I like this because one of Tony's chief advantages over his mob rivals is that he's smarter than they are as well as being at least as brutal. Well, here, trying to be too smart, he'll outsmart himself -- perhaps.

Please -- anyone and everyone -- don't exaggerate the part I played/am playing here. Pullman just wanted another eye to look at what he'd done (someone who already knew a fair bit about Powell's life and times, had a background in editing, and with whom he felt comfortable) before he sent the manuscript on to the publisher. I was happy to oblige and did offer some advice here and there, but that's all.

Don't recall seeing Triglia's name in the text, but that doesn't necessarily mean that Pullman didn't talk to him.

Curious if you were at the 3 original recording sessions, the Public Theater performance of L-R-G later that year or at the recreation in Chicago at the Museum of Contemporary Art a few years back? I'm curious too, especially about the first, but would assume that the ordinary rules of space, time, and dimension need not apply to EDC. Also goes without saying that he can make himself invisible.

I'd forgotten about that but remember it now. Thanks. It sure is a great moment. Must have been a lot of love and understanding between Jackie and Lee.

I think that would be Paulie who is the "someone." We know he was doing that for a while with Johnny Sac, and seems likely that he would continue with Phil, though I don't recall any direct evidence of this.

I've been playing something of an informal advisory-editorial role here. The book is completed and is IMO excellent -- everything one could wish for when it comes to nailing down facts, sorting out myth from reality, establishing social context, etc., etc. Pullman's labors here are almost awe-inspiring in their thoroughness, and no less important, their scrupulousness. In particular (and I think this was a very wise choice), Pullman doesn't presume to be able to read Powell's mind. Also the book is not, nor is it intended to be, a book in which Powell's music is analyzed. Pullman writes very well. The density of information is at a very high level when such information exists and can be dug up (and information of that density is what most people like us would want, I think), but the book certainly flows and has moments of high drama. The only problem now is bringing it into dock with the publisher. I don't know all the details there and probably wouldn't tell you if I did, but I expect docking maneuvers will be completed successfully and soon.

"Old Devil Moon" from this album: http://www.musicweb-international.com/jazz...olo_Quartet.htm It's in long meter and is moving a good clip anyway, so it creates a fantastic illusion that the music is traveling at twice the speed of the effort the musicians are expending to move it along -- just like chosing the right gear on a bike. Terrific performance too -- Hutcherson, Tyner, Herbie Lewis and (IIRC) Freddie Waits. Another good choice with be "La Nevada" from Gil Evans' "Into the Hot" (or is it "Out the Cool"?) Whichever, the sense of relaxed speed is awesome. BTW, even though Elvin is on this date, he's not playing drums but miscellanous percusssion. The incredibly propulsive drum work is that of Charlie Persip.

Glad you mentioned "Ella and Louis," Dan. There's some great singing there from both of them. Louis brought out the best in Ella, as did the Ellington people and material on that set in a somewhat different way. In both cases, it's as though the pressure was off. BTW, I met Ella once, when I presented a Down Beat award to her on the stage of some Chicago hotel nightclub, and she seemed to me to be shy to the point of it being pathological -- at least on the part of an entertainer who had been in the public eye for so many years (this was in 1968-9). I was pretty nervous myself when I came out from the wings to give her the award plaque, but she looked and acted as though she were about to be executed.

Weird, indeed -- but on a few of those links, such as those to two Doug Ramsey's "Rifftides" blog entries, my name crops up somewhere down the line there. I suspect that the same is true of all of them, but I'm too tired to play Google ping-pong -- at least I'm tired at the age I am as of this morning.

P.S. The movie Lewis was working on was, oddly enough, "Hardly Working" (1980).

Alarming because Lewis quite actively gave me the impression that his view of comedy, and of entertainment in general, was that it if he could amuse or entertain someone, that would allow him to eat their soul. In particular, he showed me a slapstick sequence on his editing machine of a film he was working on at the time, and when I laughed at some bit of business in the right place, the look on his face was utterly vampire-ish. On the other hand, he had nothing but nice things to say about Woody and Betty Carter.

Did Liberace provide his views on Betty Carter and Woody Herman? No, but he did provide his views on Barbra Streisand. Not very positive. As I recall, she opened for Lee (so his friends called him) the first time she played Vegas and stubbornly resisted his suggestion that she replace the schmatte (his word) she was wearing onstage with something more flattering and suitable. Also, I got to meet and observe Liberace's young sidekick Scott Thorsen, who was being paid a visit by his adoptive parents and young half-siblings. Hard-core Orange County, Ca., folk. That was weird. What did they know or suspect, if anything? Among the exhibits at the Liberace Museum in Vegas was a full-sized grand piano that some prison inmate fan of Liberace had fashioned out of toothpicks. Liberace was a smart, sly dude, it seemed to me, though I guess not smart enough when it came to balancing his sex life against his health. I think on the same visit to Vegas, I interviewed Jerry Lewis. That was fairly alarming.

No -- I'm here. It's just that the last week has been very busy, and so is today probably, and the weeks to come too. On the other hand, when I can get away, here is where I seem to want to be. Thanks for the birthday wishes. I share this birthday, BTW, with Woody Herman, Betty Carter, and Liberace -- two of whom I've interviewed.