Dr. Rat Posted March 15, 2004 Report Share Posted March 15, 2004 I remember when I saw this guy's name on the Mercury Jazz collection, I thought it was a pseudonym (I even tried to puzzle it out thinking it was an anagram.) Well, apparently not . . . if we can trust the source. The article below from NYTimes.com Has Clarinet, Will Swing Till Wee Hours March 15, 2004 By COREY KILGANNON The swing era is not over. It is stashed away in Sol Yaged's clarinet case, which he still opens nightly in a dark corner of a quiet Upper East Side restaurant. "I bought this baby in 1938 for $125" at a store on West 48th Street, Mr. Yaged, 82, said recently as he flipped open his worn case and took out his Conn clarinet at the restaurant, Il Valentino, on East 56th Street. The purchase turned out to be a long-term investment. He began playing professionally while still a teenager and has had few nights off since. Back then he had plenty of work on 52nd Street at clubs like the Onyx, the Three Deuces and Jimmy Ryan's. Those days are long gone, but Mr. Yaged is as busy as ever. Since 2001 he has been playing at Il Valentino, which is in the Hotel Sutton and was once a club run by the bandleader Eddie Condon. For a handful of diners each night Mr. Yaged turns back time, playing the same songs the same way he did a half-century ago. This is the Sol Yaged who hired the saxophonist Coleman Hawkins and the drummer Cozy Cole as sidemen and who wrote music for the film "The Benny Goodman Story," teaching Steve Allen to play the clarinet for the title role. Even now Mr. Yaged routinely plays into the wee hours; his business card includes his home phone number and the directive "Call after 1 p.m." Born in Coney Island, Mr. Yaged became a Goodman disciple in 1935 when he was 12. Early in his career he imitated Goodman's runs and phrasing and even mimicked his mannerisms and speaking style. He showed up so faithfully at Goodman's engagements and recording dates that Goodman called him "my shadow" and would jokingly reprimand him if he showed up late. "If it hadn't been for Benny Goodman I'd have been a juvenile delinquent," Mr. Yaged said. The jazz historian and radio-show host Phil Schaap said, "Sol Yaged has always been a solid musician," and noted that Mr. Yaged had played in Max Kaminsky's band on the opening night of the original Birdland. "That his fame has evaporated says more about the state of jazz than it does about him. He's still an employed musician in New York, a city with 600 hard-bop bands without work." The owner of Il Valentino, Mirso Lekic, said, "The man's a living legend and nobody knows he's still around." Mr. Lekic hired him to play quiet, classy music to dine by, and during the dinner hour he does just that, taking a back seat to chatting diners and to waiters reciting nightly specials. But as the evening progresses he seems to grow younger, swinging his group harder, until patrons put down their dessert forks and the dignified northern Italian restaurant turns into a festive jazz club. The musicians in his group sit in a corner in chairs backed against the wall, Dixieland style. They play their share of stompers, but their sets generally begin by invoking Goodman's spirit. Like Goodman's small-group ensembles, Mr. Yaged's band plays straight-ahead standards with simple melodies and a series of riffing choruses. Mr. Yaged plays with a steady, unsyncopated 4/4 beat with a guitar and bass backing. His usual group is Rick Stone on the guitar and Bob Arkin (the younger brother of the actor Alan Arkin) on bass, but he often invites friends to sit in. On a recent Saturday night there was a trumpet player and trombonist waiting for him when he arrived at the restaurant, sweating and puffing from the walk across town from his apartment in west Midtown. Mr. Yaged is built like a linebacker, and with his shaved head he looks like a cross between Yul Brynner and Knute Rockne. He wore a wide tie with a fat knot and had a threadbare fake rose in his lapel. The gold ring on his beefy pinkie shimmered as his fingers fluttered over the clarinet keys while the group began to play "Smoke Gets in Your Eyes." He plays with a creamy, elegant tone that evokes Goodman's lyricism. On "Embraceable You" he treated the melody like a fat balloon that he nonchalantly thwacked into the air. "I first heard him play this song 50 years ago," said a man gripping a glass of Scotch. Neither Mr. Yaged nor the group does much creative improvising. On "Lover Man" they played several choruses with no soloist deviating much from the melody, except Mr. Stone. But their tight, swinging ensemble playing is infectious. They did tidy, catchy arrangements of songs like "I Can't Give You Anything but Love" and "Love Is Here to Stay" with tailgating trombone obbligato and brassy offbeat trumpet punches. Mr. Yaged's best improvising is as a showman. He is an unabashed ham, whether delivering borscht belt one-liners while fixing his reed or fake-clobbering a diner with his clarinet. He often plays with one hand and pours wine for patrons with the other. At one point he joined a discussion at a side table, but leapt up in time to play an ornamental run on the final chorus of "How Deep Is the Ocean?" He finished the song leaning against a dessert cart. "So easy when you know how," he chuckled as the diners applauded. At around midnight the place seems like a speak-easy and Mr. Yaged swings the band like a lariat, spurring the musicians on with shouts and comments. When backing up soloists he comes up with simple, floating riffs. He applauds his sidemen's solos, clarinet tucked like an umbrella under his arm. Sometimes, when he particularly likes the way his bandmates end a tune, he will start them up again and have them play it several more times, guffawing gleefully each time. Late on that recent Saturday night a man from the bar wobbled over and stuffed a $5 bill into the tip jar. Mr. Yaged started the band off on a stomping "St. Louis Blues" and then "Flying Home" and "King Porter Stomp." During "Alexander's Ragtime Band" a man leaned over and said, "When you write your article, say the food's terrible and the waiters are nasty so us old-timers can come and not be swamped with people." http://www.nytimes.com/2004/03/15/arts/mus...2195efd0a021965 Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Christiern Posted March 15, 2004 Report Share Posted March 15, 2004 Sol was a little bit of a joke a few decades ago, when I first encountered him. Not a bad player (nor an exciting one), he was the poor man's Benny Goodman. I am amazed to hear that he is still around, and performing! Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
frank m Posted March 20, 2004 Report Share Posted March 20, 2004 My wife and I saw Yaged and his then sextet thirty or so years ago as the second group along with some much more famous group we've now forgotten. Sol worshiped Goodman but always played in his shadow. He was a pretty good musician but never made it to the front rank. But he sure loved to play. We were seated toward the back of the hall, and when it came time for the other band to take the stand, Sol stood behind us behind an airconditioner or something, playing softly along with the other group. I too was amazed to find him still at it. Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Ted O'Reilly Posted May 24, 2019 Report Share Posted May 24, 2019 ...and now he has passed: https://www.nytimes.com/2019/05/23/obituaries/sol-yaged-dead.html?action=click&module=Well&pgtype=Homepage§ion=Obituaries Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Big Beat Steve Posted May 24, 2019 Report Share Posted May 24, 2019 (edited) N.Y., 1947, with Joe Thomas and Rex Stewart (Bill Gottlieb photo). Edited May 24, 2019 by Big Beat Steve Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Brad Posted May 26, 2019 Report Share Posted May 26, 2019 Sounds like he was quite a character. RIP. Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
sgcim Posted May 27, 2019 Report Share Posted May 27, 2019 He sat in with this band I was playing in, and on the break, he went up to anyone in the band who was near him and said, "You sounded pretty good; how did I sound?" The last time I saw him was about ten years ago. He was playing a small group concert outside a library, on one of those stages on wheels, and he was trying to play the tenor sax for some reason. He sounded so bad, I had to leave. He could probably still play the clarinet, but I couldn't handle his tenor playing. RIP, Sol... Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
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