A Fly on the Studio Wall

One of the great things about being in my job is having the opportunity to interview world-class musicians, or introduce them on stage at concerts. Of course the chance to hear them play live right in front of me, or learn interesting things about them during an interview is amazing, but for me the most entertaining part is the discussions that happen before the tape is rolling or before the show begins.

This is the time where, even if it is only a sentence or two, I feel you can really get the coolest story of the event.

I have yet to run into sax man Joshua Redman in a bad mood backstage. He remembers names, asks about other people at the radio station by name and tells me to say hello to them for him.

While walking on stage to introduce Wynton Marsalis, one of his band members told me to wait a second because he wanted to know where the best place to eat after the show was.

The late Michael Brecker made it clear to me multiple times in one interview, after complimenting his recordings, that if I really wanted to enjoy his music, “you need to hear that **** live.”

And the great Clark Terry, after a wonderful interview and performance, was kind enough to join some of the staff and listeners for a sandwich. God bless him, as he fell asleep while I was in the middle of a sentence. In his defense, most people start falling asleep when I talk too much.

Thinking about this made me start wondering about all of the great conversations and interactions that took place “off-mic” in recording sessions that we never got to hear.

For example, to be a fly on the wall, Christmas Eve, 1954. Miles Davis and Thelonious Monk are in a recording session that reportedly almost came to blows because Miles didn’t want Monk playing during his solos. Give their recording of The Man I Love a listen, and you can almost hear the animosity. I would have loved to hear that conversation take place.

Or perhaps some studio sessions with slightly less violent interactions. How about Louis Armstrong and Duke Ellington (or any recording session with either of those two guys)? I can only imagine the conversations that took place when the tape wasn’t rolling.

Certainly there are many sessions that would have been great to be a fly on the wall for, and no doubt that with all of the ones that are racing through my mind right now, I am probably forgetting some that would have been the best.

I invite you to share who you would have liked to overhear in the studio when the microphones were off.

Remembering Duke Ellington on his 110th Birthday with Clark Terry

dukeWhen your name is Duke Ellington, it doesn’t really matter what anniversary of your birth it might be, or how long you’ve been dead, there always seems to be a stream of celebrations and remembrances every April 29th. On this, the 110th anniversary of Duke Ellington, one of the greatest musicians and composers in history, I chose to remember Duke in a different way.

Ellington died five years before I was born, so for me to “remember” him might be a little out of place. Instead, I invite you to click the link below and listen to a portion of my 2007 interview with legendary trumpeter Clark Terry.

Terry spent years touring and recording with Duke, and in the audio Terry remembers Duke, talks about his attitude towards compositions that just didn’t quite work, and compares Ellington to Count Basie.

To hear this audio blog, click here. Enjoy!

Duke Ellington: the 1952 Seattle Concert Celebrates an Anniversary

ellington-seattleI’m guessing that I’m not the only one who wasn’t aware that Duke Ellington’s The 1952 Seattle Concert was his first legitimate live performance release (with the exception of a few V-Discs). To be honest, I didn’t even know there was a Ellington Seattle concert recording until I came across it, and and today marks the 57th Anniversary of this concert.

One of the interesting things about this recording (aside from the fact that this is an anniversary of it and that it took place in my backyard), is that it showcases some new members at a time after Duke’s top star, Johnny Hodges, and two others, had departed. Drummer Louis Bellson was perhaps the most notable addition, along with valve trombonist Juan Tizol, slide trombonist Britt Woodman, saxophonist Willie Smith, and trumpeter Willie Cook.

The new members contributed not only with their instruments to this concert, but with their compositions as well. The band performed Skin Deep (the opening number) and The Hawk Talks by new drummer Bellson, as well as contributions by Tizol including Caravan and Perdido.

Perdido became a showcase tune for trumpet section leader Clark Terry. I interviewed Terry a couple of years ago, and while he might not be able to play like he did 57 years ago (triple-tounging notes as only he could), he maintains the same personality in his playing that he did when playing with Duke. Clark Terry shines on this recording, and did with the band until he left in 1959.

Other highlights of the release include multiple Ellington standards including It Don’t Mean a Thing, If It Ain’t Got That Swing, In a Sentimental Mood, Mood Indigo, as well as a 15 minute version of Ellington’s Harlem Suite.

This is a nice item to add to a jazz collection, again as it highlights the beginning of a series of great live recordings released by Ellington. While Duke’s Newport live recording from 1956 still might be his live performance highlight, this album is highly recommended.