Mark Stryker

Leaving aside the cover debate, a much bigger issue for me regarding the LT series is why the Japanese versions of these albums that came out on King sounded so much better than the domestic versions. On Friday, I found a mint Japanese copy of "The Soothsayer" (1979) that just destroys the LT version that I have had practically since the day it came out. If the Japanese could deliver this kind of sonic quality in the late '70s and early '80s, how come America could (or wouldn't)?. Carry on ...

To be clear, I didn't write the press release. That's the company ...

Good God -- previously unreleased Sheila Jordan recorded two full years before her Blue Note debut. What a find. Here's the press release that just came over the transom. I just listened to one of the streaming tracks for press, and it's fucking amazing. Capri Records releases a never-before-heard 1960 recording by legendary vocalist and NEA Jazz Master Sheila Jordan Comes Love: Lost Session 1960, due out September 17, 2021, captures the singular vocalist on her earliest known session, two years prior to her Blue Note debut "Cheeky, importunate and canny, [Sheila] Jordan’s voice is one of the great standard-bearing instruments of midcentury jazz… she still has that mix of sagacity and ingenuous charm that endeared her to discerning listeners in the 1960s." – Giovanni Russonello, The New York Times “Sheila Jordan is a one-of-a-kind artist who possesses the power to captivate audiences, inviting all to join her on a magical mystery tour of jazz history.” – Roseanna Vitro, JazzTimes At the age of 92 and still going strong, singer-songwriter Sheila Jordan has been one of the most revered and utterly unique voices in jazz for decades. Beginning with her debut album, 1963’s Portrait of Sheila on Blue Note Records, she pioneered a bebop-inflected approach to singing accompanied only by solo bass (in that case, a duet with Steve Swallow on one of her signature tunes, Bobby Timmons’ “Dat Dere”). Following the release of that album, however, Jordan retreated from the scene to concentrate on raising her daughter, working as a typist for the next two decades and not recording as a leader again for more than a dozen years. The never-before-released Comes Love: Lost Session 1960 thus adds a crucial new chapter to Jordan’s remarkable story. Recorded on June 10, 1960 at New York’s Olmsted Sound Studios for the little-known Chatam Records, the recently discovered studio date presents the singer in nascent but instantly recognizable form on a set of standards. Due for release by Colorado-based Capri Records on September 17, 2021, the album is otherwise shrouded in mystery: Jordan has no recollection of the date or the names of her accompanists, a nonetheless deftly attuned trio. The music that comprises Comes Love was unearthed by record dealers Jeremy Sloan and Hadley Kenslow of Albuquerque’s SloLow Records, who purchased it among a large collection of acetates several years ago. Knowing of Capri Records owner Tom Burns’ acquaintance with Jordan, they forwarded the surprise discovery to the Capri founder. The 1960 recording predates Portrait of Sheila by more than two years, making it the earliest representation we have of the singer at the dawn of her storied career. At the time Jordan was working regularly at the Page Three Club in Greenwich Village, often with pianists John Knapp or Herbie Nichols, bassists Steve Swallow or Gene Perlman, and drummer Ziggy Willman. It’s possible that some of these musicians can be heard on Comes Love, though there’s no way of knowing for certain at this point. “Whoever is playing on it is really good,” attests Burns. “The group seems to have an empathic relationship with her; I don't think it was just some pick-up band. But while it’s troublesome that I can't distinguish the musicians, I really thought this was a recording that should be out there because there's so much good music on it.” Even without the identifying label on the acetate (and the haunting headshot of the singer that accompanied it, also included in the album packaging), the voice inside is unmistakably that of Sheila Jordan. Her mature style is not yet fully formed, but the jaunty scat that opens Duke Ellington’s classic “It Don’t Mean a Thing (If It Ain’t Got That Swing),” the playful, sassy flexibility of her time feel on the Gershwins’ “They Can’t Take That Away From Me,” or the wry world-weariness that imbues Rodgers and Hart’s “Glad To Be Unhappy” reflect qualities that would remain and deepen over the next sixty years. “My first reaction was, ‘Wow, does she sound young!’” recalls Burns of his initial impression of the music – a reaction that he reports was shared by Jordan upon hearing the session. “Even though it's only a couple of years before Portrait of Sheila, she’d obviously developed more as a singer by then. But the way she dealt with a session of standards [at that stage in her career] impressed me. Most of the tunes aren’t your typical songs – there are a couple of well-known tunes, but most of them are kind of obscure even for that time.” The album opens with James Shelton’s wistful “I’m the Girl,” which Sarah Vaughan had recorded four years earlier on Sassy, though Jordan’s rendition emphasizes a naïve melodrama shared by “When the World Was Young,” perhaps the clearest indication that this is such an early effort. The winsome opening verse of “Sleeping Bee” takes on a sprightly tone also present on a brisk “I’ll Take Romance.” A stark “Ballad of the Sad Young Men” is followed by a brassy take on the title tune and a sultry version of Billie Holiday’s “Don’t Explain” that reflects the iconic singer’s influence. “She’s bending notes and singing the way a horn would play,” Burns points out. “[Jordan is] really trying different things out on this session. It’s an interesting look into her evolution as a performer.” Sheila Jordan One of the most distinctive and creative of all jazz singers, NEA Jazz Master and self-described “Jazz Child” Sheila Jordan is one of those rare vocalists whose voice can be regarded among the great instruments of the music. Raised in poverty in Pennsylvania's coal-mining country, Jordan began singing as a child and by the time she was in her early teens was working semi-professionally in Detroit clubs. Most of her influences have been instrumentalists rather than singers, the greatest being Charlie Parker. After moving to New York in the early 50s, she married Parker's pianist, Duke Jordan, and studied with Lennie Tristano. She didn’t begin recording until the early 60s, then faded from view for two decades as she stepped back from her career to raise her daughter. Since her return to recording in the late 1970s she has remained one of the most acclaimed and beloved vocalists in jazz, pioneering a duo approach with solo bass and enjoying longstanding collaborations with the likes of Cameron Brown, Harvie S and Steve Kuhn and recording with the likes of Carla Bley, Roswell Rudd, Mark Murphy, Arild Andersen and George Russell. Sheila Jordan – Comes Love: Lost Session 1960 Capri Records – Capri 74164 – Recorded June 10, 1960 Release date September 17, 2021 caprirecords.com # # # ReplyReply allForward

Best part of living in Detroit is that this community still exists. Another way to say this is that the jazz audience here IS a community.

One of the commentators says this was taped in Dallas but broadcast on a Nashville show. Apparently 1966. Jim -- do you recognized any of the cats?

No time for participating in a extended Gershwin discussion, but I will say I have seen the complete opera on stage three times -- the first when I was 13, at Indiana University in Bloomington, and the latter two in Detroit, produced by Michigan Opera Theatre. I have complicated feelings about the opera (natch) but I'm always glad to see it and it can be effective and emotionally satisfying with judicious musical cuts, a conductor who can keep it moving along, and a director and cast who can subtly but firmly overcome the stereotypes. Do I prefer the individual tunes to the whole opera? Sure, but I'm not sure what that proves. It still is true that certain songs in the opera are much more effective when sung within the context of the score -- particularly "There's a Boat that's Leaving Soon for New York," "Bess, You Is My Woman Now," and "It Ain't Necessarily So."

Plus the second volume of this material issued as "Straight No Chaser" on Verve.

It's not that Clarke hasn't done anything of note. But the NEA Jazz Master Award is the country's highest honor in jazz. That's a high bar, and Clarke's contributions to the art form don't come anywhere close to meeting that standard,

Who are the other nominees in this category?

In alphabetical order: Stanley Clarke, Donald Harrison (jazz advocacy award), Billy Hart, Cassandra Wilson. I'm especially happy to see Billy Hart included here -- so deserved and an inspired choice. By the same token, Stanley Clarke is a terrible pick (nothing personal, just the wrong guy for THIS award. If I'm Buster Williams or Cecil McBee, neither of whom is yet in the club, I'd be livid). I'm basically cool with the others, though Michael Cuscuna is WAY overdue for the advocacy award and so is Chuck Nessa. Louis Hayes and Charles McPherson would be sterling picks in 2023, along with Cuscuna and either Williams or McBee -- whichever bassist is left out in 2023 gets in in 2024, along with Chuck. https://www.arts.gov/honors/jazz

Pleased to be quoted in this piece. The music is fantastic. https://www.nytimes.com/2021/07/13/arts/music/roy-brooks-understanding.html?smid=tw-share

VERY early Donald Byrd, who had only relocated to New York from Detroit in June and had only made two studio dates by the time of this gig.

Please read this surprising and deeply meaningful piece. https://admissionsprojects.com/2021/07/06/mulgrew-miller-saw-us-through/?fbclid=IwAR3XBa9YUpERRXiJyrPFRPuMQmUG93lPcZ2D8McSwPirjFZPxnkxy05NNoc

Happy birthday to Della Reese, born July 6, 1931 in the Black Bottom neighborhood of Detroit. Here she is in 1960. Man, she was born to sing. Dig the multiple endings -- when it feels this good, you don't want to stop. I think the only person who didn't dig it is the director, who keeps panning back when he thinks things are coming to a close. Oops.

I think the black flute/piccolo player on our left is likely Bill Green.

From the regrettably short-lived Redd Foxx Comedy Hour, yes?

Gang: I'm trying to track down a story about Howard McGhee that ran in Downbeat in the August 15, 1963 issue. I have the issue before this and the issue after this is my collection, but, alas, I am missing the one I need. I'd be grateful i anybody that has it could take some phone pics and email them to me. PM me if you can help and I'll send you the email address. Many thanks -- MS

It is. I fucked up. Fixed. Thanks.

Via Ethan Iverson, here's a 36-minute interview with Hemphill conducted by Terry Gross in 1976. Fascinating stuff. Coda: Gross has been doing this a LONG time. She began doing Fresh Air in 1975, so she's about 24 at the time of this interview. https://freshairarchive.org/guests/julius-hemphill

Right! What Shepp had no way of knowing is that Joel LOVES to play fast, so he took that instruction as both a challenge and license. The faster he goes the more comfortable he gets. Anyway, sounds like it was one of those memorable moments that always happen at the best festivals. Would like to hear it.

One set I've always heard about but the tape hasn't shown up in the archive is the 1982 (I think) appearance by the Archie Shepp Quartet. Drummer John Betsch was delayed for some reason and because the set was being nationally broadcast it HAD to start on the button. My old friend Joel Spencer, who had just finished playing with a big band, was quickly recruited to start the set, and by all accounts played his ass off. Betsch arrived after a tune or two but Shepp waved him off and Joel played the entire set. A young Kenny Werner was in that band too. Not if you're stressing about deadline! That shit will take its toll -- if not the walk, then the post-filing alcohol (or whatever) to calm the adrenalin. YMMV. I always tried to have at least my lede written in my head before I reached my computer, whether it was formed on the walk/drive back to the office or actually while sitting in my seat at the performance, where I would jot it down in my notebook. Made a big difference to me to get rid of the blank screen as soon as possible -- even if I eventually ended up rewriting the lede.

I was lucky with the Detroit Jazz Festival all the years I was on the beat, because the footprint for the festival was a 5 to 15 minute walk from the newsroom depending on where exactly you were starting from. Those extra minutes were a godsend on deadline. Still, in later years, I'd take my laptop and often file from the festival grounds.

Threadgill, Hopkins, McCall at the Chicago Jazz Festival, the national WBEZ broadcast. I'm sure our Chicago board members like Larry Kart and Chuck Nessa were there. https://archive.org/details/air-trio-chicago-jazz-festival-1981-wbez/04-Air+Song.mp3

Off topic, but nectarine -- "half a peach, half a plum; it's a helluva fruit."

You know, when I played this the other day, I noticed a couple of spots in the saxophone solo on "Plantation" where I thought I heard a skip -- it wasn't a repeating skip, but a barely audible "jump" that sounded almost like a clumsy edit. I took the record off and wiped with a cloth to see if there was a speck of dust or something stuck to the vinyl. Played it again with same result. I couldn't feel anything with my finger, so I was confused. Then I played it again with my eyes right at stylus level to see if I could actually see the "jump" but I could not see anything unusual, but I still heard the jump. I was about ready to take the record back but then the next time I played that spot, the record seemed to play fine. So: (a) I guess I am not the only one who noticed an issue. (b) My record apparently is possessed and it is sometimes going to jump and sometimes will play fine just to fuck with my mind.