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Issue 89

All Fingers on Deck

All Fingers on Deck

Bill Leebens

Welcome to Copper #89!

I hope you emerged from the 4th (Independence Day, for our friends around the world) with all digits intact. By now, you've undoubtedly noticed some changes in the mag's appearance. Over the next several months we'll be instituting changes that will make Copper read more like a regular magazine, and will ultimately make the mag easier to navigate, and binge-read.

These things happen in baby steps---so please bear with us, and thanks for your patience.

Dan Schwartz looks at the sound of music; Richard Murison looks at our dream-state; Jay Jay French takes a sideways look at the influence of gospel music; Roy Hall hobnobs with the rich and sorta-famous; Anne E. Johnson’s Off the Charts brings us some of Etta James' more obscure cuts; Woody Woodward is back with part 3 of his treatise on Django Reinhardt, and on a related subject, Anne’s Trading Eights looks at Stéphane Grappelli. I look at the perils of age in The Audio Cynic, and in Vintage Whine, we look at yet another side of Fairchild. That last piece, incidentally, introduces J.I. Agnew, who will soon be contributing a column to Copper on all things analog---and maybe much more.

We've also got a feature from our friend, veteran speaker designer Ken Kantor, who will also be starting a new column soon. I'm excited to bring these unique talents to you.

Copper #89 wraps up with Charles Rodrigues offering choicesand an unusual Parting Shot from our friend Rudy Radelic.

Enjoy the issue, and stay cool!

Cheers, Leebs.


The Sound Of Music, Redux

The Sound Of Music, Redux

The Sound Of Music, Redux

Dan Schwartz

There’s something I’ve been thinking about for around 25 years; ever since I started working with Bill Bottrell, and he made me aware of how different my sound was.

What that is, is just how affected many of us — most of us, come to think of it — are by recorded sound, by recorded music, as opposed to the sound of music as it actually occurs. We’re usually not aware of it, but it causes us to favor so many things “wrongly”.

I think I wrote about this briefly in The Absolute Sound, writing about the glorious sound of the Neumann U47 and U48. Its colorations are so extreme and VERY romantic. And yet it’s become the number one choice of a microphone for most singers, including the Beatles. Think about those voices: so detailed, and yet sounding nothing like the real thing. Well, not nothing, but hyper-real.

I started to think about how this applies to me when someone — I don’t remember who — was talking about the way I play. Paul McGowan’s asking me about bass brought it up again. All the records I grew up loving were 4- and 8-track recordings. And everybody who played on the songs played a big role in those records, including the bass — I might say ESPECIALLY the bass — which, when I met Bill in 1991 had been reduced to a blip on beat one of most bars (think Jeff Lynne’s productions). Jack Casady, James Jamerson, Paul McCartney, the Wrecking Crew guys, they all played the song, not a bass “part”. EVERYBODY played the song.

Bottrell said back then, that to him, the sound of instruments had to fit on a 7-inch single. If he couldn’t hear them like that, he didn’t record them.

But there’s more to it than just the playing; more than just how I play. For those who don’t know, a little slightly technical stuff (I imagine Gus Skinas could do this better): in analog recording, the wider the track, the better the signal-to-noise specifications. For instance, I have the third one-inch 2-track made. Giving half an inch to each side of a stereo recording gives specs that about equal 16/44.1. Not bad for analog. (And it’s tube, to boot!)

So: think about when McCartney overdubbed the bass — it was given a track of its own, and a quarter-inch track at that, which was unusually wide (most 4-track machines were ½-inch). And the tape was running at 15 inches per second, which I think sounds much better than the 30 inches that was standard by the time I started recording. And then, of course he was in England, where the AC frequency is 50 Hz, rather than 60, which produced a head-bump, a frequency boost that’s a by-product of the tape head architecture, of about 100 Hz (rather than the American 120 Hz). The engineer, Geoff Emerick, generally mixed the bass 2 dB louder than everything else: a perfect situation for recording bass fat and loud. (Though sonically, my favorite McCartney bass track was one of the few done elsewhere, recorded by Keith Grant at Olympic Studio: “Baby, You’re a Rich Man”.)

And then the situation the players were in: all in the same room, some without headphones separating them — creating a hyper-real version of what you might hear on a bandstand. This is in the days when musicians still ran the show and engineers merely documented it — when, in Bottrell’s words, you had Mix A rather then Mix B (a subject for another day).

And then the relationship of bass to drums: by the mid-70s, when I started recording, drums were the be-all end-all —- if the engineer got good drum sounds, well, he was the guy. But in the records I came into this art-form loving, the drums were one element, often mixed to one-track, and all thought of as one instrument — a drum KIT. That’s how Geoff Emerick learned to hear, usually how he mixed them, and he and the Fabs heard the bass a bit louder. And they passed it on to me.

That’s how I learned to play.


Fairchild, Part 5

Bill Leebens

We’ve spent a fair amount of time and pixels on the brand Fairchild (part 1 in issue #75, part 2 in issue #76, part 3 in issue #77, and a sidebar/part 4 in issue #82), but there is a lot more yet to be said. Or maybe I’m just obsessive.

Fairchild’s professional products are still highly-regarded and sought-after, 60+ years after their manufacture. Their designs were forward-thinking, and the build quality was what you’d expect from a company that also built airplanes and precision optics. Outside of a few recording studios, they’re seldom seen these days—so when I found a comprehensive piece on a Fairchild pro product, I immediately wanted to add it to this series.

J.I. Agnew 
is a recording engineer in the U.K., and wizard in all things analog—as you’ll see if you take a look at his website. J.I. undertook the rebuild and voltage conversion of a Fairchild lathe, and has even used it for direct-to-disc recording. What follows is his incredibly detailed account of that process. I think you’ll find it fascinating—but you will need to allow some time to read it! —And oh: the whole “disc” vs. “disk” issue will not be resolved by this article. Just sayin’.

I’m happy to announce that J.I. will soon be writing a column for Copper, beginning with an explanation of the whole mysterious process of how records are made. And now, here’s J.I.’s Fairchild story—Ed.

This project started from a bare bones Fairchild Model 199 disk recording lathe, which was found in Florida back in 2015. It was manufactured by the Fairchild Aerial Camera Corporation in the mid-1930’s in New York, before the relevant patents were issued. It was originally sold to a radio broadcasting facility in Grand Rapids, Michigan, where it saw very heavy use, at least until the 1950’s. At some point it was sold to someone in the East Coast again and from there, made it down south.

Fairchild lathe

It arrived in a fairly sad state and it was clear that it was going to need a lot of work, as most old disk recording equipment does nowadays when sold at a bargain price.

It did not come with a cutter head or any electronics and was missing several parts, such as the original cutter head mounting bracket with the advance ball assembly.

 Fairchild lathe Fairchild lathe

The motor and “drive unit”

Following a thorough cleaning job and ample lubrication, the next challenge was to make it spin at the right speed. It is driven by a hysteresis synchronous AC motor, whose speed depends on the mains frequency of the supply. The motor and gearbox assembly (Fairchild called it the “drive unit”) were designed to run at the correct speed when powered by 60 Hz mains, but because we are located in Europe (50 Hz mains), it ran slow.

The original manual (available on request) noted that a “50 Hz version” of the “drive unit” was available with different gearing, so it would still spin at the correct speed, even though the motor would run slower. But, it proved impossible to find such a unit. Next thought was to machine new gears of the required ratio. The lathe was operated for half an hour at 50 Hz, and it was found that it ran a bit hot, which was to be expected due to the lower frequency. This would unnecessarily reduce its lifespan, so it was decided to leave the gearbox as is and figure out a stable 60 Hz supply. There are many ways to achieve this at low cost, but none of them are suitable for this application. Since the speed of the platter depends on the line frequency, any instability of the line frequency will result in speed instability. Moreover, any deviation from a pure 60 Hz sine wave (harmonics, noise, etc.) will be causing the motor to run hot and produce excessive vibration.

We developed a dead stable and clean 60 Hz supply unit, specifically for running disk recording lathe motors, the Type 191. Problem solved. We designed and assembled a more appropriate and stable wooden furniture for the lathe, and started the search for a cutter head.

Fairchild lathe

Cutter Head Safari

The search yielded an RCA MI-4896 monophonic magnetic cutter head of similar vintage. Fairchild lathe Fairchild lathe

It also arrived in a very bad, non-functional state. J. I. Agnew promptly took it apart and rebuilt it, making it functional again.

At this stage, we wanted to do a quick and dirty test run of the whole setup, to see where there problems are and to make a plan of action.

 Fairchild lathe Fairchild lathe Fairchild lathe Fairchild lathe Fairchild lathe Fairchild lathe The easiest way to go is embossing/impressing, rather than cutting the grooves on the blank record. This process relies entirely on plastic deformation rather than the removal of material. As such, no suction system is needed to remove the chip, since there is no chip/swarf produced. It does work best warmed up with a heat lamp though, so we put one together. The platter was far from running true and the gearbox was noisy, most likely due to lack of proper lubrication in the past. Fairchild lathe Fairchild lathe Fairchild lathe Fairchild lathe Fairchild lathe Fairchild lathe Fairchild lathe Fairchild lathe Precise measurements were taken to verify where the problem lies. The platter was not very flat and the mounting method left very little room for adjustment. It had to be modified. Fairchild lathe Fairchild lathe Fairchild lathe

Platter experiments

Height adjusters were installed in the platter to compensate for the lack of flatness. Big improvements, but still far from being as precise as it should be.

Several experiments were then conducted with sandwich-type platter arrangements and a lot was learned in the process about how not to make platters.

Fairchild lathe In the meantime, we started putting together a chip suction system to be able to cut some grooves. Fairchild lathe Fairchild lathe Fairchild lathe As you can see, the blank disk is being held down by means of a "puck", which screws onto the spindle. This arrangement is far from ideal, but at least a starting point. We started out cutting plastic blanks to get the system set up without wasting lacquer disks in the process. The chip they produce is a transparent-whitish fluff, betraying the sandwich construction of the blanks, which appears to be solid black at first glance. Fairchild lathe Fairchild lathe The chip suction system needs to be precisely adjusted or it will clog up. Fairchild lathe Fairchild lathe Fairchild lathe

Stylus heating

With this sorted, it was time to try out stylus heating. This should never be attempted before ensuring that the chip suction system is operating reliably. If it fails half-way through the cut, not only is the cut ruined, but the stylus will most likely also end up being ruined. If this should happen with lacquer, it will catch fire so fast, it won’t even be funny.

Fairchild lathe Fairchild lathe Fairchild lathe Fairchild lathe Fairchild lathe Fairchild lathe Fairchild lathe

Weird pattern: Vertical oscillations

Next issue was the vertical oscillations (moire pattern on the disk). This is a very usual problem which is easily solved by means of an adjustable dashpot (which we can supply if required). First we tried an airpot, which sort of worked with the light-weight monophonic head but was not easy to adjust right. Fairchild lathe Fairchild lathe

Pitch control system

Then the focus shifted to a more versatile pitch control system, electronically variable, to be able to upgrade to an automatically variable pitch system in the future when the rest of the issues are dealt with. Fairchild lathe Fairchild lathe Fairchild lathe

Upgrade to stereophonic cutter head

The time was finally ripe to upgrade to a stereophonic feedback cutter head, the Caruso Nr. 135! A new head mount was needed, so we designed and built it (we can supply custom cutter head mounts to fit almost any head to any lathe, just ask). The airpot was not adequate for the much heavier Caruso head, so we had to upgrade to an oil dashpot as well. Fairchild lathe Fairchild lathe Fairchild lathe Fairchild lathe A stereophonic feedback cutter head of course also needs a serious amount of electronics and a different chip suction arrangement. The need for a high performance cutting amplifier system and the lack of any commercially available products at the time, resulted in the development of the Type 891, described in detail in a paper published in the November 2018 issue of the Journal of the Audio Engineering Society (JAES). Fairchild lathe Fairchild lathe Fairchild lathe Fairchild lathe

Gearbox overhaul

Now the tiny details are really starting to show. Bearing noises, clattering sounds, rumble, and so on. Time to get dirty and do a full-on gearbox overhaul. While we are at it, why not also get the lead screw sorted out? Fairchild lathe Fairchild lathe Fairchild lathe Fairchild lathe Fairchild lathe Fairchild lathe Fairchild lathe Fairchild lathe Fairchild lathe Fairchild lathe Fairchild lathe Fairchild lathe We actually had to disassemble and put the gearbox back together twice on this machine. The first time was to measure the bearing dimensions and purchase replacements, and adjust the assembly without replacing parts. This kept it running for a bit longer until all the bearings could be found. Some proved very difficult to source, so, as soon as we found any stock, we purchased all of it, to have a good supply. We probably hold the last remaining stock for some of these bearings, and they are running out fast as we rebuild gearboxes and supply other Fairchild lathe owners. When our stock runs out, the only way to keep these lathes running will be to modify the gearboxes to be able to make use of other bearing types which are actually in current manufacture. We can do such modifications in-house, when the need arises. The second disassembly and reassembly was to replace the bearings when all the parts had arrived. Should you require modification or repair work on disk recording lathe motors or gearboxes, do not hesitate to get in touch. Fairchild latheFairchild lathe Fairchild lathe Fairchild lathe Fairchild lathe Fairchild lathe Fairchild lathe Fairchild lathe Fairchild lathe Fairchild lathe Fairchild lathe Fairchild lathe Fairchild lathe Fairchild lathe Fairchild lathe Fairchild lathe Fairchild lathe Mods Beautiful engineering! Considering that this was actually made in the 1930's, long before CAD, CNC, and digital measurement tools had even been dreamed of, it is absolutely astonishing! The precision of this assembly, the quality of the materials, and the level of craftsmanship would put to shame most modern manufacturing! You can tell that Fairchild was also manufacturing aircraft! No wonder that even nowadays, for the most demanding precision engineering work, manually operated machine tools from the 1950's and even earlier are still being used. They really did use their knowledge, understanding of science, and abilities to their full potential back then, and their results are often still unsurpassed. To be fair though, this is not because it cannot be done as good at present, but simply that it is unfortunately seen as uneconomical to work to such high standards.

Pitch Control

In original form, the Fairchild Model 199 and the almost identical Model 539 were essentially fixed pitch machines, in that the pitch could not be altered during the cut. The operator had a choice of four pitches, ranging from 96 to 161 LPI, which could be selected by means of changewheels, as in early screw cutting lathes. Changewheels are little gears that can be changed out only when the lathe is not in operation. Once the lathe starts spinning, the pitch is defined by the gear installed. A lever is provided to select between inside-out and outside-in direction of cut and there was a fixed relationship between platter speed and pitch, resulting in highly accurate, constant groove spacing. However, it is possible to fit more music per side if the grooves can be made to come closer to each other during silent passages, and the spacing between them opened up for loud passages. This can be achieved manually with electronic pitch control, or automatically with a suitable pitch automation system. The Fairchild was first converted to manually variable electronic pitch control, and a Pitch13 automation system was eventually installed. Fairchild lathe Mods Fairchild lathe Mods Fairchild lathe Mods Fairchild lathe Mods Fairchild lathe Mods Fairchild lathe Mods Fairchild lathe Mods Fairchild lathe Mods

Dashpot

The previously made, enclosed dashpot, proved difficult to adjust, so a new head mount adapter was made, with a built-in oil cylinder, along with a plunger. At first, the plunger was made simple and non-adjustable, but was soon replaced with Type 6022, our standard high performance adjustable plunger. This setup allows the vertical damping to be fine-tuned, an essential feature for cutting stereophonic records, where quality matters. Fairchild lathe Mods Fairchild lathe Mods Fairchild lathe Mods Fairchild lathe Mods

Platter upgrade

So, with the gearbox running as good as new, the platter was no longer satisfactory. Apart from the warping which made it impossible to true it up to the required level of accuracy, it also suffered from an additional major disadvantage: It was made of cast iron, which interacts with the stray magnetic field of a stereophonic cutter head (monophonic heads have weaker fields so it is usually not much of a problem) and ruins the depth of cut adjustment. Additionally, as mentioned earlier, the puck clamping of the blank disk is really not a good idea if you are trying to do professional work. The obvious choice was to fit a Neumann-style vacuum clamp-down platter, made of a suitable aluminum alloy to very precise dimensional standards (which means flat as can be). We first had to make a sub-platter with height adjusters and a new hollow spindle, to act as an air channel for evacuating the platter. The teeth around the subplatter provide the impulse to a speed/positioning sensor, to interface with automatically variable pitch and electronic speed regulation systems. Fairchild lathe Fairchild lathe Fairchild lathe Fairchild lathe Fairchild lathe The platter is fitted on top of the new sub platter and spindle assembly. A vacuum hose is fitted to the top of the spindle, over the blank disk, and the resulting vacuum firmly clamps the disk onto the platter and most importantly, flattens it out, should it have any tendency towards warping. Fairchild lathe Fairchild lathe Fairchild lathe The 16" platter worked well, but proved uncomfortably and unnecessarily large, leaving very little room for access to other parts. While the rebuilt gearbox now offered extremely stable and quiet operation, it only ran at 33 1/3 rpm, since the 78 rpm step-up parts were removed, to reduce rumble. By this point, I felt it was time to take this lathe to the next level! A custom 14" vacuum platter was machined from an aluminum/magnesium alloy (very similar to the one we made for the Scully lathe project a while ago), a new center bearing assembly was designed, machined and installed, a long shaft was fitted and a massive, floor standing precision motor with electronic speed regulation was installed. The Fairchild has been converted to direct-drive! Fairchild lathe Mods Fairchild lathe ModsFairchild lathe Mods Fairchild lathe Mods Fairchild lathe Mods Fairchild lathe ModsFairchild lathe Mods Fairchild lathe ModsFairchild lathe Mods Fairchild lathe Mods Fairchild lathe Mods Fairchild lathe Mods Fairchild lathe Mods Fairchild lathe Mods Fairchild lathe Mods Now the platter can spin at any speed from 0 to 120 rpm with extreme stability and no rumble whatsoever. In the presence of a "preview" signal, arriving at the automation system in advance of the same signal reaching the cutterhead, the spacing between the grooves can be automatically and dynamically altered, in proportion to the amplitude of the audio signal, calculating the required space along with platter rotary positioning. In the analog domain, when cutting records from tape, a preview head tape machine is required, to derive the preview signal. With digital sources, the "program" signal can be digitally delayed. However, with live sources, as in direct-to-disk recording, there can be no preview signal. In such cases, the lathe can be switched to manual mode, the pitch being varied in real time by an engineer with strong nerves. Fairchild lathe Mods Fairchild lathe Mods Fairchild lathe Mods Fairchild lathe Mods Fairchild lathe Mods Fairchild lathe Mods Fairchild lathe Mods The heavily modified lathe is now regularly used to cut masters for vinyl record manufacturing. Fairchild lathes, being solidly engineered, make an excellent basis for extensive modification and can result in systems offering performance and functionality giving any of the more modern "status symbol" lathes a good run for their money! I suspect we may be seeing more and more of the vintage Fairchild machines in professional use, as the supply of Neumann and Scully lathes is in a salvageable state is rapidly drying up. I had a really interesting moment some years ago, when I was preparing to solder in some of the automation circuits for that lathe. It suddenly occured to me that I was about to solder a brand-new, state-of-the-art SMD chip, manufactured by Fairchild Semiconductor, on a 1930's disk recording lathe, manufactured by the Fairchild Aerial Camera Cortporation...! - J. I. Agnew Fairchild lathe Mods

Badwater Basin, Death Valley

Badwater Basin, Death Valley

Badwater Basin, Death Valley

Neil Rudish

What Is It To You?

Ken Kantor

Rock and roll music – the music of freedom frightens people and unleashes all manner of conservative defense mechanisms.

– Salman Rushdie

I’d rather play jazz, I hate rock and roll.

– Ginger Baker

Appreciating music can be so many different things. It can be a tune casually whistled strolling down the sidewalk. It can be a jazz band expertly warping a commonly whistled tune into something new and amazing. Pots, pans, strings and chants, or a soloist mastering counterpoint of incredible complexity. It can be an arena rumbling with decibels of bass, or an orchestra delicately tossing a theme around the stage. Though some still argue, it can even be 4’33” of silence. And, as always, the serious music of one generation, society, or subculture may very well be unrecognizable or intolerable to another. A delicacy in one part of the world is headed directly for the garbage disposal in another.

For some people, in some contexts, music is a neck-up art form, subject to both emotional and intellectual scrutiny. To others, musical magic happens mainly below the waist. It can be a soothing medicine or an energizing source of nourishment. It can be solitary or a social activity; it can communicate, pass the time, catalyze true love, or it can rebel and alienate. I can’t think or work if there is music playing; many cannot think or work without some. Dinner music? Barry White or Bolero? Please no! I need to concentrate. Meanwhile, I have friends who break out in a cold sweat if there isn’t something playing in the background pretty much all the time.

No matter. Human beings express themselves in limitless ways, and I see no compelling reason why, over all, the composers of the 1800’s had any more or less skill than the composers of the 1900’s. Rembrandt, Rubens, Cezanne, Mondrian, and Pollock are all acknowledged as great painters by art lovers, regardless of the profound stylistic and conceptual differences between them. As a music lover, music exploration and the search for work that speaks to me is a great joy. I have yet to encounter a style or genre that I do not get at least some value from. Maybe just a tiny and forgettable sliver that suggests I ask for my money back. But, something. It’s fun for me to hear what people do with sound, even if the result is not to my liking. (I never understood people who tell me how much they love music, followed immediately by a list of genres they detest en masse.)

So, how does this all relate to our audio hobby? It mainly comes down to speakers, the component with the most influence over how the recorded signal is rebuilt into the listening room. When I was a young audiophile…shortly after the discovery of electricity…the prevailing wisdom was that there were speakers for rock and pop, and speakers for classical. (Jazz folks were just, plain out of luck, I suppose.) On the other hand, various experts at the time insisted that, “An accurate speaker is an accurate speaker!” So, what’s the truth, at least as seen by a speaker designer?

The way I see it, there are many aspects of sound, many realms of subjective impression, many kinds of specifications and measurements, that prove to have different weights of importance to the reproduction of different musical genres. While the theoretical concept of a “perfect reproducer” is appealing, that’s not how it works in the real world. In practice, all product design is a series of compromises and trade-offs, and speaker design has more than its fair share. How these are adjudicated by the designer must necessarily take into account the priorities of the listening, and the techniques used to make the recordings that are to be reconstructed. As an example, vocal purity tends to be degraded by rich ambience…just ask a concert hall designer. Deep bass and tight bass rarely go hand in hand. Imaging and seating coverage are at odds.  Etc.

Heck, these days, between computer-aided design and DSP processing, obtaining a flat frequency response, however one wants to measure that, is very doable. Instead, it’s all those trade-offs, that keep a speaker designer up at night. (Well, that and cheesy subwoofer porn.)

I can think of dozens of such balances that must be struck during the design of a speaker. A big one, well known, is that recordings of classical music tend to like a smooth power response from a speaker-room combination. While this can often lead to some deterioration of stereo imaging, that is not a big impediment to getting a concert hall experience. In contrast, EDM, rap, and other electronically-derived music does well with very little room reverberation, so that the sound is clear and spatially precise. Rock is a tricky one, since both electric and acoustic sources might be present. I think you get the idea: No matter what the review said, your favorite speaker for all your minimalist recordings of acoustic jazz is going to be less than ideal on classic rock. Hate classic rock? OK, you’re all set.

Over the coming months, I’d like to explore some of these issues and tradeoffs in more detail, and relate them to the specifications and design details that a listener can use to help understand how a given loudspeaker is likely to perform with a given style of music and a particular recording technique. At the same time, we can look at some approaches both in the design of speakers and in how a listener can set them up, that will help get the most from a wide variety of musical styles. They all deserve to be heard.

I think.

[As I mentioned in Opening Salvo, Ken will be joining Copper as a regular columnist, writing about speaker design, psychoacoustics, and whatever in audio strikes his fancy—Ed.]


Django, Act 3

WL Woodward

The Hot Club

On a night in 1934 Django Reinhardt and Stéphane Grappelli found themselves playing for Louis Vola in a pedestrian dance band at the Hotel Claridge. During a performance Grappelli broke a string on his violin. At the next break Django was backstage practicing while Grappelli changed the string. As he tuned he began playing jazz musings on some popular songs and Django joined in. What followed was a surprise attack on the world of jazz.

Jazz at the time was dominated by horns, guitar playing a rhythm role and violins playing Beethoven. Both Reinhardt and Grappelli were not just enamored with jazz, but consumed with playing it. They just were stuck with, and loved, the instruments they played. So in adapting the instrumentation they had, Stéphane and Django, each of whom were uniquely talented, ransacked the medium and started over. The fact that these two discovered each other is a testament to faith and a happy coincidence you tend to find at many transitional phases in art. Balzac and Flaubert in Romantic literature, Van Gogh and Gauguin in post-impressionist painting, Muddy Waters and Little Walter in blues, Lennon and McCartney in pop, Armstrong and Oliver in jazz, Jon Lord and Ritchie Blackmore in rock, Mickey Dolenz and Davey Jones in..wait, strike that last one.

Django and Stéphane continued these jam sessions back stage joined by Vola on bass and brother Joseph ‘Nin-Nin’ Reinhardt on guitar. These sessions got the attention of a local student and jazz lover Pierre Nourry who dragged his jazz mentor to hear these guys. So enters Hugues Panassié.

In 1930 Panassié and Jacques Bureau, a young jazz enthusiast who would later make his fortune designing men’s dressers, started a jazz radio show in Paris. A group of students who were fans of the show approached Panassié and Bureau about starting a jazz club. Not a nightclub, but like a fan club. Gallic sensibility was drawn to unions and societies to meet with fellow passione of all kinds. Clubs at that time had to be registered with the government in order to charge admission to meetings and membership and promote concerts. Panassie named this the Hot Club de France. It was formed at first to meet jazz aficionados to share records and promote jazz in Paris. Soon Panassié and Bureau, spurred on by Django devotees Robert Delauney and Pierre Nourry were promoting these guys who had no intention of starting a band.

From a later period, the only video I could find of Grappelli and Reinhardt as youth. This is 1939 albeit after the fame of the Hot Club de France, but still worth the watch. “J’attendrai Swing”.

 

In 1934 Django’s playing was really developing into the jazz milieu but wasn’t recognized because he wasn’t playing flippin’ sax. The combination of Django and Stéphane and the collaboration between the two in that back room was quickly becoming astonishing. However neither Panassié nor Bureau were impressed enough to turn their attention from horns and drums and considered this gypsy music and not true jazz. There was even a note of racism in that Panassié stated that because these guys were white they couldn’t be playing REAL jazz. [HUH??—Ed.] Life is weird on so many levels.

But Nourry had vision and he invited Django to one of the club’s formal concerts. Reinhardt showed up atypically, in a crumpled gray suit that looked like he had slept in for months, his guitar wrapped in newspaper. He shyly setup in a corner. Soon he had everyone’s attention. The band played jazz standards like “I’ve Got Rhythm” and Django killed. His style was so unique, with strange phrasings and solos of power combined with the delicacy of jazz manouche that he had been working on with Grappelli in the back of the Hotel Claridge. The musicians got it. Panassié was not a musician but a self-styled promoter of sorts. So he didn’t get it but he knew audience reaction. Django became the darling of the Hot Club and their magazine raved on his playing.

Nourry decided they needed to record what was currently a loosely formed quartet with no name. So in August 1934 into the studio they went with Nourry having to put up his own money. After the sessions Nourry sent acetates to a few promoters including Panassié and John Hammond in America. Panassié and Hammond were un-impressed. Maroons.

Panassié had promoted a concert with the Spanish classical guitarist Andres Segovia so he arranged for Segovia to meet Django and have him play for the famous Spaniard. But Segovia was not a jazz fan and was loathe praising other guitarists anyway, and halfway into Django’s performance Segovia turned his chair around and sat with his back to Reinhardt. Ouch.

In the autumn of 1934 the great Louis Armstrong came to Paris, partially to play and record but mostly to hide out from the gangsters back in Chicago who were controlling his career. The Hot Club de France went crazy and got Armstrong to play at every opportunity they could. Louis was flattered by the attention so when Nourry asked if he could bring Django and Stéphane to meet him he agreed. At Armstrong’s hotel room the door was answered by the Great One himself, but he was in the middle of getting ready for dinner and left the two musicians standing with their instruments as he zipped around the suite putting his suit together. Nourry finally convinced Django and Stéphane to play something but Armstrong never acknowledged them. Nourry later said that walk back down the stairs from the room was one of the longest of his life.

So the boys were still not working, relegated to late night after hours jam sessions.

In October ’34 Nourry tried the studio again, and again with his own money booked a session with Odeon. The band was now a quintette adding Django’s brother Joseph on rhythm and Bert Marshall was brought on for vocals. This is “I Saw Stars” from that Odeon session in 1934 and you can hear Grappelli beginning to use his trademark harmonics.

 

Odeon was not interested. Nourry and the Hot Club arranged a concert on December 2, 1934 at the Sorbonne’s Centre Malesherbes. Django was so paralyzed by stage fright he hid in his caravan and had to be dragged to the performance hall.

The concert was a success and Panassié finally admitted the performance was great and so arranged another concert at Ecole Normale de Musique. Now the band had to have a name and the Hot Club named them: Django Reinhardt et la Quintette du Hot Club de France. On the strength of these two concerts Nourry arranged for another recording session, this time at Ultraphone on December 27, 1934.

This session had some remarkable sides including a rendition of “Dinah”. This recording is remarkable because the band’s power is really starting to show but also because at the very end you hear Django inadvertently bang his guitar on the back of his chair. The recording engineers wanted to restart but the musicians refused and the recording survived.

I did not include this side of “Dinah” because my Copper colleague Anne Johnson is coincidentally doing a piece in this same issue on Stéphane Grappelli and she’s using a recording of “Dinah”. I urge you to hear Anne’s version of the recording and to read her article.

Again, Ultraphone passed on releasing the material. Even the Hot Club’s own magazine in a review said that despite the obvious talent of Django, “don’t forget that the guitar from all points of view is a completely disagreeable instrument exclusively reserved for rhythmic accompaniment in jazz bands.” Glad nobody listened to DAT guy!

1935 and 1936 would continue to be spotty for the Quintette. They would disband for months as they were forced to take sideman gigs as much as Django hated that. Without any real experience to back up his attitude Reinhardt had developed a staunch ego that often was trouble for all bandmates, but especially Grappelli.

Django was a strange dichotomy of inflated ego with stage fright, a gifted jazz creator who often would rather go fishing than perform and would send his brother Nin-Nin in his stead to gigs, which drove Stéphane, the consummate pro, stark mad. Grappelli would say later in life that even after Django had passed on, he dreaded the first songbird of spring because when Django was alive Reinhardt would begin to disappear and that antipathy for spring stayed with Grappelli for life. As sophisticated and intelligent a player as Django was, he could not read or write and had no formal education. Stories abound of people like Bureau explaining to this man-child the world and geography or showing Django books of dinosaurs and Django’s childlike wonder at the possibility of an animal over 25 meters long. He was supremely superstitious, believing so absolutely in spirits rising from graves at night that if the only way to a performance was past a cemetery it was impossible to get him to go. While in Nice a friend repeated a story about a bicycle seen in the daylight going down the street without a rider, and Django refused to leave his room for three days.

The main problems to the band were the mood swings and disappearances. This would later become a serious problem when he went to the US to play with luminaries like Ellington and Goodman. In Paris people would hunt for Django to bring him to a performance. In America no one looked for you; you just got canned. As Django’s fame spread, he increasingly treated Nin-Nin like a valet, forcing him to carry his guitar and be responsible for spare strings and picks. When he went to America to work with Duke Ellington and Benny Goodman, he believed the guitar companies would shower him with free guitars so he showed up without an instrument. When no one came through Reinhardt had to borrow money from a bandleader to buy a guitar so he could make a performance. He was a complex man who loved his wife supremely but was distracted easily by random meetings with a girl in a café and again would disappear for days.

But as 1936 turned into 1937 success was coming, if in slow spurts. The Quintette was recording and the records were beginning to circulate outside Paris, then outside France into England, Japan and even in the jazz heartland, the U.S. The band was playing larger venues and gaining in popularity. In 1937 Gramophone spun off a record label solely devoted to jazz, the first label of its kind, and was named Swing. Swing then mainly focused on the Quintette and Django.

Before one of the first Swing sessions the record company told the band the sides they needed recorded. Django wanted to do some originals and in negotiation they got in a couple of Reinhardt’s compositions. From April 1937 this is Django’s train song, “Mystery Pacific”. Keep in mind through 1937, despite gathering success, the band was constantly in danger of collapse from Django’s excesses and disappearances. But the music was always paramount, and a panacea.

 

Unbeknownst to them the Quintette was wildly popular in England. The Brits had been buying up the records and the fame of the Quintette spread quickly. They first hit England’s shores in January 1938 and were amazed at the response from audiences well versed in their style and songs. They recorded at London’s Decca studio and a resulting wax was this, “Daphne”.

 

1938 was the year everything took off. The Quintette not only toured England but Belgium, Sweden, the Netherlands, and Germany. 33 sides were recorded in studios in London and Paris during 1938 and 1939. Despite the band’s troubles they were at the height of their popularity. But in July 1939 as the Quintette arrived in England for a tour, the country’s thirst for the life giving waters of jazz had a shark lurking in it.

On a Sunday in August the Nazi blitzkrieg took out Poland and the best and worst reason to break up a band happened. Reinhardt in fear fled back to France, believing in the invincibility of Paris and France itself. Oops. Grappelli, ever the pragmatist, stayed in England and essentially gave notice to the band. La Quintette du Hot Club de France was no more.

We will finish the war years and the remainder of Django’s career in Acte Quatre. But I’ll leave you for now with a parting salvo from the ground-breaking and breath-taking Django Reinhardt et la Quintette du Hot Club de France.

From that failed but sweet Ultraphone session in December 1934, “Tiger Rag”. Dig.

 

And “China Boy”. Someone should have thrown these clowns in the back of a van and saved them from themselves.

 


Can An Atheist Love Gospel Music ?

Jay Jay French

Hmmmm……

If I weren’t a writer, always looking for interesting stories, this article would not have been written.

Why?

Because I wouldn’t have ruminated over the fact that, as an atheist, my entire music foundation and love of rock ‘n’ roll and the blues is steeped in black music and, by extension, artists that were, more than likely, taught their craft through the connection of the Southern Baptist churches. It also extends to gospel music as well.

Isn’t it ironic that gospel music is a celebration of the Christian faith whereas rock ‘n’ roll and the blues is viewed as the flipside, often considered “devil’s music”?

Either way, religion in general permeates the music and the sound of the music that I hold most dear.

I say “the sound” because whether it’s the gospel music of The Edwin Hawkins Singers, Ben Harper, and the Blind Boys of Alabama, or the blues sung by Muddy Waters, Big Mama Thornton, Mississippi Fred McDowell, Sonny Boy Williamson, and Lightnin’ Hopkins, or the pop music of Sam Cooke, Jackie Wilson, Levi Stubbs (4 Tops), Eddie Kendricks (The Temptations), Aretha, Martha Reeves (Martha & the Vandellas), Marvin Gaye, and Smokey Robinson— I love hearing it all.

The lyrics almost never matter.

Maybe that’s why.

The lyrics have almost never mattered, regardless of who is doing the singing.

Even Dylan. As much as I love his music, as a teenager, I never understood a lot of it lyrically.

Okay, yes, some songs, such as the Beatles’ “In My Life” and Cat Stevens’ “Father and Son” (just to name a couple of examples), do matter and can bring an emotional response out of me, but for the most part, it’s always been the melody.

Oddly, the non-African-American singers I feel the most connection with are directly coupled to blues artists, and almost all are British (another phenomenon of the confluence of timing as they all come out of the same era, 1965-1975): Eric Burdon (The Animals), Mike Smith (The Dave Clark 5), Van Morrison (Them), Rod Stewart (Jeff Beck Group), Gary Brooker (Procol Harum), Steve Winwood (Traffic), Paul Rodgers (Free), Steve Marriott (Humble Pie), as well as Americans Greg Allman, Janis Joplin, and the most underrated American female blues singer from the 1960’s and ’70s, Tracy Nelson.

What we have here is my list of singers (and bands) that I love. Add to that list BB King, Albert King, Freddy King, Memphis Slim, Magic Sam, Paul Butterfield, Johnny and Edgar Winter – just about every blues singer you can imagine – and you get the idea.

So…whether it’s the uplifting gospel-style pop leanings of Earth, Wind & Fire, or the “hell on wheels” devil’s music of Little Richard, I love it.

All of it.

And, none of it makes me want to believe in God— or the devil, for that matter.

I don’t believe there is a Heaven or a Hell.

I wasn’t here before I was born and I’m not gonna be here after I’m gone. Period.

But there is something about the culture of the church that brings out some of the most amazing talent that I have ever heard.

This also extends to country music, as I believe that the discipline that the church experience creates in young people forces a certain weeding out process of the talent pool.

No, I have no studies to prove this but I can tell you this:

On any given night, you can walk into a bar in Manhattan or LA and hear some pretty awful musicians.

That’s what is known as “alternative” music to me. It’s an alternative to actually learning how to play, write, and sing songs with real musical foundations.

I have never walked into the Apollo Theater or any bar in Nashville and seen sucky players. It just doesn’t happen. It’s like it’s against the law or some kind of standard that the older ones pass on to the young ‘uns.

There is something to this, and all I have to say is if it’s the belief in a higher power that somehow imbues the artist to reach for the magic that great artists possess, then I’m all in as a fan.

Ironically, many of you know that I write for other publications and, on occasion, the stories I write about can overlap as my life reflects business, music, and my audio hobby.

I will leave with a quote from a gospel song written by an artist I used to manage. The refrain will be the subject of an upcoming article for Inc.com (a business magazine). The purpose of my articles for Inc.com are to give entrepreneurs tools to help them move their businesses along, and help them to get through tough times.

Great gospel music can be very uplifting, and nothing is a greater example of that than this line from a song called “I Say Grace”. It speaks entirely to how one can approach failure with unyielding optimism.

Andy Fortier, the artist who wrote it, has gone through incredibly hard times, but has always pulled through them with grace and a belief that everything will be all right. This line is so good that even I use it and reflect on it when things seem the bleakest:

“And when the roof caves in, it lets the sunshine in.”


To Sleep. Perchance to Dream.

Richard Murison

What do we do, as a society, when we are obliged to face uncomfortable realities that require us to make major changes to things we have grown to think of as fundamental? It is a problem we face on a global scale with the emergence of Climate Change, for example. On a personal level, there is absolutely nothing that you or I could do that would make one iota of a difference. Instead, we must look to our leadership at a governmental level. But what we demand of them is that they introduce measures that will address the problem without having any negative impact on our personal convenience. It becomes convenient to frame the issue as someone else’s fault, and it therefore becomes their obligation to get their own house in order first. And of course, nothing of substance actually gets done.

But what of other issues, where, for example, there are things that we are getting dramatically wrong on a societal basis, with disastrous consequences, but where we can each take substantive personal measures that will have an immediate individual impact on a personal level? What then? What changes would you be prepared to make to your personal lifestyle if the payoff was a major, measurable impact on virtually every aspect of your personal health and wellbeing? There is such a thing, if you are prepared to face up to it. It is called sleep.

I have just read a book called Why We Sleep – Unlocking the Power of Sleep and Dreams by Matthew Walker. If it sounds like another of those new age nostrums concocted by a self-appointed wellness guru, or, worse still, some pig-ignorant celebrity, then I must first correct that misconception. Walker has a PhD in neurophysiology, was professor of psychiatry at Harvard University, and is currently professor of neuroscience and psychology at the University of California at Berkeley where he is the founder and director of the Center for Human Sleep Science. He is recognized as one of the world’s foremost authorities on sleep, and his book has become an instant international bestseller. Walker has been invited to speak on TV shows around the world, and his April 2019 “Sleep is your Superpower” TED talk is one of the most-viewed with over a million views in the first 24 hours alone.

 

Walker’s book is a relatively dry and fact-based journey through the various contributions sleep makes to a person’s health and wellbeing. But, dry as it is, it makes for powerful, compelling reading. Even, to be perfectly honest, terrifying reading. What you will learn about sleep may well haunt you for the rest of your life. It should, in my humble opinion, be required reading for every man, woman, and child on the planet. Am I perhaps being a little over-dramatic? That would be a natural conclusion for you to draw. All I can say is, read the book, and form your own informed opinion. But let me share a handful of snippets with you anyway…

First of all, just how much sleep do we need, and how often do we need it? There are two major mechanisms which govern when we need to sleep. The first is a natural rhythm which has evolved at a deep level within our brains, and synchronizes with the diurnal cycle of night and day. It creates an internal clock which makes you feel tired and sleepy at night, and alert and wakeful during the day. The second is a chemical process which builds up in your brain, creating a “sleep pressure” which continues to build inexorably while you are awake, and is gradually relieved as you sleep. If you sleep a regular eight hours every night, both of those processes are in balance. However, if you stay up unnaturally late on a regular basis, even if you get up correspondingly late in the mornings, your sleep cycle will not be properly synchronized with your circadian rhythm and sleep disturbance will result. And if you pull an all-nighter then sleep pressure will build up to a point where you become dangerously drowsy, and scientific research has proven clearly that such drowsiness has effects very similar indeed to those of alcohol. A person who has been awake for 19 hours will be as cognitively impaired as a person who is a legally drunk driver.

Persons who do shift work, or who work for organizations such as the US Navy, whose sleep cycles are grossly disturbed on a regular ongoing basis, can take virtually no comfort from the fact that they have “adequate opportunities” to catch up on their requisite 8 hours of sleep. Your circadian rhythms tell your body when it must sleep, and it is when your body signals that it wants to sleep that you must sleep. A naval rating who has just completed a 16-hour tour of duty cannot simply sleep for 8 hours just because his superior officer commands it. The body will not generally respond. Even though you are dog tired, it can often take a couple of hours to unwind and actually fall asleep. The poor seaman may only get 6 hours of sleep, and that sleep will typically be of poor quality – on top of being at the wrong time.

Even if we talk about aiming for a regular 8 hours of sleep on an “optimum” schedule every day, that still does not resolve the issue completely. At different stages of life, we require different amounts of sleep. It is well known that babies and children sleep a lot more than adults, and as responsible parents we tend to provide for those developing individuals to get all the sleep they need. But at the same time it is also known that teenagers and young adults have a propensity to stay up late, and stay in bed all morning, yet we ascribe this behavior to laziness. It turns out that this is plain wrong. For reasons that remain unclear, the natural sleep cycle of youths is naturally skewed towards late nights and late mornings, and they function notably better on a whole smorgasbord of important tests when they are allowed to sleep on that natural schedule.

In America, many school boards are moving to a schedule that starts the school day at 7:30am, primarily to suit the convenience of parents and teachers. However, this practice exacts an appalling penalty on the ability of those students to learn effectively. But authorities are desperately reluctant to face up to the consequences of these facts. Even at UC Berkeley, where Dr. Walker is director of the Center for Human Sleep Science, the powers-that-be are remarkably reluctant to acknowledge this important – and now unambiguously proven – finding, let alone consider strategies to act upon it. A whole chapter in Walker’s book shines a profoundly disturbing light on the role of sleep in children and developing adults, and the way our society so thoroughly mishandles it.

Even among the adult population there is somewhat of a distribution of how the sleep cycles of individuals synch to their circadian rhythms. Some have naturally early-to-bed, early-to-rise rhythms, whereas others prefer to sleep and rise later. Unfortunately, our social norms have become strongly skewed towards the former, with breakfast-meeting types being seen as proactive, industrious, and strong leaders, whereas natural late risers are seen as lazy, unreliable and unworthy. It turns out that these stereotypes are entirely without foundation, but extreme societal pressure forces the latter types to adopt the behavior patterns of the former, to their dramatic detriment.

What are these dramatic detriments? A better question might be what aren’t they? Let me list a few of them, in no particular order.

  • Memory and learning. Sleep plays a critical role in transitioning recently-acquired information from short-term to long-term memory, functions which take place in very different regions of the brain.
  • Weight gain. Sleep loss causes the build-up of a hormone that signals hungriness, while at the same time suppressing a companion hormone that signals satiety.
  • Tests on mice show truly terrible links between sleep deprivation and cancer. Not only are sleep-deprived mice more likely to develop tumors when exposed to triggering carcinogens, those tumors turn out to be significantly more aggressive.
  • Blood sugar. Inadequate sleep disrupts blood sugar to such a profound degree as to classify a person as pre-diabetic.
  • Alzheimer’s disease. Some early research on the development of Alzheimer’s is showing what look like clear links between inadequate sleep and the propensity to develop this unpleasant disease.
  • A certain part of our DNA is made up of structures called “telomeres”. Long strings of telomeres are found at the ends of the DNA sequences known as chromosomes, and form a kind of protective cap. It is not known what telomeres actually do, but a gradual loss of telomeres are a significant aspect of aging. And – wouldn’t you know it – the less sleep a person obtains, the more damaged are the capping telomeres of that person’s chromosomes.
  • Drowsy driving is a major cause of traffic accidents. In fact, vehicle accidents caused by drowsy driving exceed those caused by alcohol and drugs combined. Furthermore, the inherent nature of drowsy-driving impairment (something Walker covers in great detail) means that those accidents actually tend to be far more deadly.

Walker’s book presents these – and more – not as mere headline-grabbing sound bites. He goes into each one in scientific detail, citing researchers, data and hard numbers, and providing context and counterpoint. It is one of the disappointing aspects of Western culture, its societal values, and indeed its approach to hard science, that we tend to want to reduce critical issues to black and white positions. For example, butter has for fifty years been seen as a BAD THING, a fundamentally unhealthy foodstuff, whereas the reality is quite different, and the product developed to replace it – margarine – is in fact considerably worse for your health. Thus it is with sleep. Mankind has never fully understood the need for sleep. Why we sleep, what happens when we sleep, what doesn’t happen when we don’t sleep…these are questions to which, until now, we have had no detailed answers. And our response to such matters is generally that if we don’t understand something we conclude that it can’t be all that important. Clearly, this has been doing us a great disservice.

As you can tell, this book has made a most profound impression on me. I gave copies to my son and daughter, and feel like I should be recommending it with almost evangelical fervor to anybody else who wants to listen to me.

Or read me.


Stéphane Grappelli: Eight Great Tracks

Stéphane Grappelli: Eight Great Tracks

Stéphane Grappelli: Eight Great Tracks

Anne E. Johnson

Nobody would dispute that Stéphane Grappelli is one of the top jazz violinists in history. So it says a lot about jazz history that, during much of the 1940s and early ’50s, he had trouble getting work and made only a handful of albums. That’s no reflection on his musicianship or level of ambition. It’s a big reflection on how the big-band jazz era couldn’t wrap its head around the concept of jazz violin, and also how Grappelli couldn’t be bothered with be-bop.

Fortunately for Grappelli, the options of jazz started to change and widen, allowing him to find a niche or two that really worked for him. He even got the chance to stretch outside of jazz proper (whatever that means). He collaborated very successfully with musicians in the new “fusion” genre and made some important crossover recordings with classical stars.

Born in 1908 in Paris, he survived poverty in a Dickensian-level orphanage until his Italian father was able to reclaim him after World War I. He then studied classical violin at the renowned Paris Conservatory, but was far more intrigued by the violin players he heard on the streets and in the Métro stations. His first plunge into jazz happened at the piano, not on violin, and he started getting regular piano jazz gigs. One night in 1929, a friend challenged him to play “Dinah” on his violin, and he was hooked.

The biggest impact on his early career came from guitarist Django Reinhardt, a Belgian living in Paris. He and Grappelli founded Le Quintette du Hot Club de France in 1934, introducing the Paris scene to the concept of guitar and violin as solo jazz instruments. Grappelli went on to a long career as the father of European violin jazz and was musically active until his death at age 89 in 1997.

So rosin up your bow and enjoy these eight great tracks by Stéphane Grappelli.

  1. “Dinah”
Stéphane Grappelli and Django Reinhardt: I Got Rhythm!
1934
Past Perfect (re-release)

It seems appropriate to start with the first tune Grappelli ever played on jazz violin, here as a duet with his long-time colleague Reinhardt. You can learn a lot more about Reinhardt from Woody Woodward’s 3-part series featured in Copper issues 86, 87, and here—but this track should be enough to intrigue those who aren’t already familiar with his buoyant style.

But we’re here to talk about Grappelli, who comes in at 1:52. His entry note alone shows several typical characteristics of his playing: 1) a gently humorous slide to the main pitch; 2) a lift, or sense of air under his bow, as if he’s breathing like a singer; 3) an elegant, ever simply functional, sound.

 



  1. “A Nightingale Sang in Berkeley Square”
Improvisations
1956
Mercury

Speaking of elegance, Grappelli had a breathtaking way with the standard “A Nightingale Sang in Berkeley Square,” which he recorded many times over the years. Besides the sophisticated brush strokes of his phrasing, the most obvious Grappelli touch is the ornamentation that lets you hear that nightingale sing.

In this recording, he’s with a trio consisting of Maurice Vander on piano, Pierre Michelot on bass, and “Mac Kac” Reiles on drums.

 

  1. “Memorial Jam for Stuff Smith”
Ponty-Grappelli
1973
Polygram

Grappelli was one of those musicians who wasn’t afraid to learn from the young. And this particular track shows him nodding to his own generation at the same time. The piece is dedicated to American jazz-violin pioneer Stuff Smith, who recorded with Grappelli on a few occasions.

French violinist Jean-Luc Ponty was only 30 when he and Grappelli started collaborating. But it wasn’t so much Ponty’s age as his approach to jazz that might have scared off another musician. Ponty played jazz fusion, which integrated electronica into jazz. That meant both a different style and a different type of instrument: an electronic violin hooked up to wah-wah and distortion pedals.

Grappelli himself did not change his style or instrument, but was happy to play alongside the newer ideas. Grappelli’s solo on acoustic violin starts (1:20), followed by a virtuosic piano solo by Maurice Vander acts as a palate-cleanser (2:24) before Ponty does his thing on electric violin at 3:17.

 

  1. “Moonlight in Vermont”

Stéphane Grappelli and Earl Hines: The Giants
1977
Black Lion

Earl “Fatha” Hines (1903-1983) was one of the great jazz pianists of the mid-20th century. He was known for the usual way he accentuated his rhythms. That’s what makes this pairing with Grappelli so intriguing. Hines’ subtle but effective syncopations form a unique structure for the violin to slither around in this fillagreed take on “Moonlight in Vermont”:

 



  1. “Tea for Two”

Stéphane Grappelli and Yehudi Menuhin: Tea for Two
1978
EMI

Given his classical training, it’s no surprise that Grappelli befriended Yehudi Menuhin, an American violinist and conductor with an insatiable curiosity about all of the world’s music. The two made several albums together, mainly focused on music that was considered old-fashioned for the time. Unlike his collaborations with Ponty – or, even more oddly, with bluegrass fiddler Vassar Clements – here Grappelli’s style matches his mate’s, rather than standing in contrast to it.

The ease and charm of this “Tea for Two” hides some top-notch technical playing.

 

  1. “Medley -- a) Tzigani; b) Fisztorza; c) Fulginti”

Stéphane Grappelli and Dave Grisman Live
1981
Warner Bros.

Grappelli live and Grappelli in collaboration with another great musician: you just can’t go wrong. But add to that Grappelli playing gypsy-style violin, one of his signature sounds, and you end up with a true gem. Mandolin master Grisman shares solos with Grappelli in this energetic and sexy set: “Medley — a) Tzigani; b) Fisztorza; c) Fulginti.”

 



  1. “Ol’ Man River”

Grappelli Plays Jerome Kern
1987
GRP

It’s always a special treat to listen to one of Grappelli’s “songbook” albums – collections of standards by specific composers. This is the only one that focuses on music of Jerome Kern, who worked with Oscar Hammerstein II to create the score of Show Boat. Grappelli’s take on “Ol’ Man River” is made almost too sweet by Jorge Calandrelli’s string orchestra arrangement. But Grappelli’s playing is so thoughtful and wistful that the melody is turned into an exquisite sculpture. And at 1:44, he doubles the tempo, so hang on!

 



  1. “St. Louis Blues”
Stéphane Grappelli/McCoy Tyner: One on One
1990
Fantasy

Grappelli first recorded this standard in 1935 with Django Reinhardt. Here, in his last recording of it, he is paired with one of the finest of jazz pianists, McCoy Tyner. This recording represents yet another side of Grappelli: He didn’t play a lot of blues, but when he did, he gave it a bittersweet twist. And, of course, elegance.


Been Down So Long, It Seems Like Up To Me

Bill Leebens

As a parent, I’m used to my references being met with blank stares or an overt “Huh??” from my children.

But I know I’m getting old when more and more, I encounter the same reactions from regular folks who are otherwise polite. Somehow, “Huh??” is not considered rude. But then, I live in a place where half the adult males wear caps indoors, looking like 12/8ths versions of Beaver Cleaver. So what do I know about etiquette?

As usual, I digress.

So: dropping into conversation the phrase used as this article’s title is, these days, met with a laugh—and no sign of recognition. If I cite it as the title of a book by Richard Fariña—yknow, Mimi Fariña’s husband—y’know, Joan Baez’s sister…..

“Joan WHO?”

JOAN WHO??

>sigh<

I get it, I’m old. But how is it that I’m expected to be able to tell the difference between Post Malone and Watsky—I’ll bet I lost you there— but the younger folk around me have no sense of anything that occurred before their birth, especially when it comes to music?

This is not the standard “bash the millennials” rant: I’ve spent a lot of time defending millennials and twenty-somethings, as I think they’re being left a world of diminished possibilities and an awful lot that’s just completely going to shit…and in general, I find them to be industrious, inventive, and resourceful. They have to be, just to get by.

So—here’s something that’s either amusing or pathetic—you be the judge: I’ve often gone to trivia nights at bars and restaurants, gone up to a group of —umm, youngsters, and asked: “do you need somebody who can answer questions about things that happened before 1990?”

About a dozen times, the answer has been, “sure!” And I’ve helped those teams to kick ass. The other times? Yes, I’ve gotten that look as though I were some type of creeper, and they turn back to their frou-frou fruit-infused beers. It’s a percentage game, like everything else.

There are basically two schools of thought regarding historical awareness. On one side is Henry Ford’s “history is bunk”–but keep in mind this is the man who, when faced with Chevrolet’s six-cylinder engine (introduced to compete against his four-cylinder Model T), said, “I’ve got no use for an engine that has more cylinders than a cow has teats.”

Yup, he said that. Look it up. You think Elon Musk is nuts? Read a little Ford history.

The other side of historical awareness is George Santayana’s “those who cannot remember the past are condemned to repeat it”—which, like most well-known statements, has been misstated and spun in innumerable ways through the decades.

As usual, I agree with both— sorta. Being unaware of history has clearly caused some of the issues we face today; at the same time, I think it’s foolish to feel constrained by the precedents of history.

I really shouldn’t be shocked when someone in their twenties doesn’t recognize the name of Joan Baez. I remember rolling my eyes at my parents’ infatuation with big band and schmaltzy instrumental music, and only begrudgingly learned the names of Tommy Dorsey and my father’s inexplicable favorite, Carmen Cavallaro.

The flip side to not knowing Baez, is me not being able to tell the difference between dubstep and regular EDM, or bachata from reggaeton. I try, but they all run together for me.

I imagine my kids try as well, but somehow all the “whiny white chicks”—their global term for everyone from Baez to Joni Mitchell to Aimee Mann—run together for them.

I guess the moral of the story is that when you can’t tell when “millennial” stops and “Gen Z” begins, you shouldn’t be too critical of other people’s unawareness.

…but that doesn’t mean I’m not going to be the graying curmudgeon who yells, “you damn kids! GET OFF MY LAWN!”


Etta James

Etta James

Etta James

Anne E. Johnson

Born to a single teen mom and passed around foster care, Etta James did not come into this world with many advantages. Even the choir director at her church in South-Central L.A. used to punch her in the chest when she sang as a child, a twisted way of forcing her to put more power behind her sound. James managed to use that power in her voice to conquer the R&B charts during a long career plagued by demons.

She started her recording life focused on gospel and blues, but by the time she made her third album, Etta James (1962), she had taken on enough of a pop feel to be considered R&B. Although the record was released on Argo, it had been produced by R&B pioneers Leonard and Phil Chess, with a few of the tracks previously released on their own Chess Records.

The fact that Burt Bacharach wrote something for this album is ample proof of James’ growing pop bona fides, even if it wasn’t a song that got much attention. The Bacharach/Bob Hilliard number “Waiting for Charlie to Come Home” was the B-side of the Top 40 hit “You Got a Hold on Me.”

Supported by organ and a full orchestra, James luxuriates in the emotional pain of this torch song.

 

James kept winning fans with those pop chops, and in 1965 Argo Records felt confident calling her new album The Queen of Soul.

The Norman Mapp number “I Worry ’Bout You” gets the full heartache treatment, complete with a gospel choir in the background. There’s a definite early-country tinge to this one, too. James shows off her voice’s impressive range of pitch and dynamics.

 

For the 1968 album Tell Mama, James had switched to the Cadet label, although she and Leonard Chess remained friends. It was Chess who convinced her to go to Muscle Shoals, Alabama, to record this album at FAME Studios, which was churning out hits thanks to producer Rick Hall and an in-house rhythm section known as the Swampers.

The studio delivered, helping James achieve two of her highest-charting songs: “Tell Mama” and “Security” (an Otis Redding cover). The Swampers laid out a sauntering foundation in “I’m Gonna Take What He’s Got,” supporting and interacting with James as she gives us the lyrics like a storyteller.

 

No one had any question that James could manage gospel, blues, jazz, and soul. But what about funk? Asked and answered: In 1970 she released Etta James Sings Funk. About half the album consists of songs composed by Pearl Woods, a long-time friend and collaborator.

This is Woods’ sassy song “Tighten Up Your Own Thing,” certainly the slickest arrangement on an album that didn’t sell very well. James funks up her voice with gravel and growl, and the guitar and bass are working overtime. And that frantic brass section is a riot.

 

A singer increasingly weakened by drug use, James surrounded herself with really strong session musicians to bolster the 1974 album Come a Little Closer. But she’s still very much present: The heavy funk beat of “Sookie Sookie” might be driven by Trevor Lawrence’s arrangements, but James is the fuel, pouring out energy through a voice now more suited to shouting than singing.

 

Although James continued to put out albums every year or two through the Seventies, living hard and fighting the demons eventually took their toll and shut her down. In 1980 she had no choice but to take time off to deal with her drug problem. She called her next album Seven Year Itch (1989) because that’s how long it had been since she’d last had a recording contract. Fortunately, Island Records saw fit to sign her.

With “One Night” (not related to the tune made famous by Elvis), she shows she’s still soul royalty. Her voice has grown lower and huskier, but that only increases the pathos in her delivery. The sensitive production is the work of Barry Beckett, trained at FAME Studios, who also contributes a sweet sound at the organ. Jim Horn, a standard on many James albums, deserves a special nod for his spirited baritone sax.

 

James was not taking her second chance for granted. Only a year later she released Stickin’ to My Guns (1990), which featured tracks by Isaac Hayes and Otis Redding. Buried among those well-known songwriters is a rarity: a song by James herself.

“The Blues Don’t Care” might not be one of the great songs of blues-rock history, but the composer reveals a lot of herself in it. And not just in the cynical lyrics analyzing the universal reach of misery in this world. It’s also the way she sings it: straightforward, simple, like she’s sharing the plainest truth she knows.

 

Time after Time (1995) is an album worth mentioning because it shows yet another side of James. This jazz collection draws from the American Songbook, with composers like Gershwin, Cole Porter, Sammy Cahn, and Rodgers and Hart. Although she’d certainly sung some jazz in her day, who knew she had a cabaret artist inside her all this time? Would have been interesting to see what happened if her career had gone in this direction earlier on, back in the heyday of this music.

 

James died in early 2012 at the age of 73, from leukemia. Only two months before that, she had released her 28th studio album, The Dreamer. Maybe she still dreamed she’d get a fair shake and her tough life would improve. As if hedging her bets, she ended the album with a blues song called “Let Me Down Easy.” No surprise that she brought it back home to her roots in the end.

But just as revealing about her personality and strength is a very surprising song choice on this last album. It’s “Welcome to the Jungle.” Yes – the Guns N’ Roses song! That’s some gumption, Etta James. She made it her own, of course. Axl Rose needn’t have bothered.


Party

Party

Party

Roy Hall

“This is S.I. Newhouse’s personal secretary, I would like to invite you and your wife to a party to celebrate the construction of his new apartment.”

I almost hung up the phone. S.I. Newhouse, owner of Conde Nast (publisher of Vogue, The New Yorker, and Vanity Fair magazines) calling me with an invitation? But there was something in the woman’s voice, which made me think this wasn’t a joke. She went on to explain.

“The party is to celebrate the architect’s wedding and honor his design of the apartment. I believe your wife is a friend of his wife.”

I vaguely remembered something about this guy doing work for the Newhouses. His wife was an illustrator who did freelance work for Newsday, a local newspaper in Long Island where my wife Rita, was an art director. How could I say no. It’s not every day billionaires invite me to their apartments.

His home was a floor-through on 1st Avenue very close to the UN. Clutching our invitation, security ushered us up to his floor where we were compelled to remove our shoes and put on some very ugly, cheap looking Chinese sandals. This pissed off my wife because she was very nicely put together that evening and changing her footwear did not improve her look. Shoes off, we shuffled into this large room, a symphony in beige. The carpet and the walls were fawn and the sofas were taupe. Phalanxes of waiters were circulating dispensing tiny morsels, which vaguely looked like food. The wine, although copious, was white. (Mustn’t stain that carpet). The room had many windows and the view of the UN and Brooklyn beyond it across the east river was magnificent.

More of an art gallery than a reception area, the walls were hung with art works by Andy Warhol, Roy Lichtenstein, Paul Cezanne, Vincent Van Gogh; there was a sculpture by Alberto Giacometti. But in the pride of place, centered on its own pedestal, was a stainless steel rabbit. A larger than life-sized shiny balloon, it looked like it belonged in the Macy’s Thanksgiving Parade. I was not impressed.

S.I. eased himself through the crowd saying hello and nodding a lot. I did try to converse with him but he seemed to be shy and looked as if he would rather be somewhere else. Not so Victoria, his wife, who was holding court with her curator. She was very much the interesting hostess. From her we learned that they had recently sold off most of their collection of abstract expressionist art and replaced it with a selection of Pop and other modern pieces. She seemed particularly proud of the rabbit and waxed eloquent about its lines and beauty.

At one point, the staff started fluffing up the scatter cushions, which we all took as a signal to leave. Shoes retrieved, we took the elevator down from the rarefied world of billionaires to the squalor of normal life.

As of the time of writing, Christie’s had just sold the rabbit by Jeff Koons at auction for 91 million dollars. I guess Macy’s couldn’t afford it.


If You Don't Like THIS One....

If You Don't Like THIS One....

If You Don't Like THIS One....

Charles Rodrigues