I was a child of the '60s and therefore came of age during the golden age of rock and roll. Three currents at once drew me to jazz at the age of eighteen: a school friend with a little collection of jazz recordings; my brother, an aspiring jazz trumpeter; and, in my freshman year at Indiana University, the tutelage of Dr. David N. Baker (later to become director of the Smithsonian Institution's jazz program). It was in David's class I first heard "East St. Louis
Toodle-oo," and my term paper on jazz bassists inevitably led me to Jimmy Blanton; hence, my first Ellington album wasThings Ain't What They Used to Be, a compilation of Ellington small groups led by Johnny Hodges and Rex Stewart in 1940 and 1941.
David Baker
My early jazz education was backwards, in the sense that my first jazz heroes were contemporary masters of "free jazz": Ornette Coleman, Don Cherry, John Coltrane, and Archie Shepp, among others.
I was fortunate, in 1972-- my senior year at Indiana University-- to attend a performance on campus of Duke Ellington and His Orchestra. I didn't really know what I was hearing: I spent the first half of the show anxiously checking my wristwatch and left during intermission to make a political speech. This was, after all, the impending revolution
Graduate studies led me in 1979 to join Chicago's Duke Ellington Society (dubbed the Ray Nancechapter). Another component in my Ellington education was"Dick Buckley's Archives of Jazz," on WBEZ radio nightly. At some point around this time, Buckley also devoted four to Ellington recordings alone for four hours each Sunday afternoon.
On one particular show, Buckley played a taped interview with Benny Aaslandin New York, from what was to become the first of many international gatherings of the Duke Ellington Study Group.
Dick Buckley doing what he did best
In 1979 or 1980 I interviewed drummer Louis Bellson at his gig at Rick's Cafe Americain, at the Lake Shore Holiday Inn. Unfortunately, I didn't tape the interview, but I do remember his utter enthusiasm when he recalled his time with Duke. When I asked how he fared in the segregated South while touring with the band, he replied sincerely, but ludicrously, that he was able to pass as an albino.
A few months later, in the Chicago Jazz Festival in the late summer, of 1981, Bellson returned to perfom in a quartet with his fellow Ellingtonian, Clark Terry. To WBEZ radio host Neil Tesser, neither had a bad word to say about Ellington.
By that time I was attending Northeastern Illinois University's Center for Inner City Studies in Chicago to earn a Masters in Education degree. Within two years, I wrote a 250-page tome, saddled with the cumbersome title, THE ENTERTAINMENT INDUSTRY AS EXPLOITER OF MUSICAL TALENT, AS REFLECTED IN THE CAREER OF DUKE ELLINGTON.
Why Ellington? My first serious interest in jazz had been Bud Powell, as I was earlier deep into bop. The explanation was given in the thesis itself: "By and large,...it must be said that the overwhelming preponderance of [jazz] writing has been little more than a history of Black failure in the American music business.... What we propose to do here is examine America's cultural apparatus by focusing on the career of a Black 'success': Duke Ellington." My approach was close to that of Harvey Cohen'sDuke Ellington's America (2010): to give as much attention to the social and political background as I did to Ellington himself. (Although Duke was to declare countless times, "I live in the realm of art. I have no monetary interests," I have never believed that. Unfortunately, every human being has monetary interests.)
from the copy of Ulanov's book I bought at Toad Hall
In the 1970s, there were few books about Ellington. I began with Barry Ulanov's 1946 biography of Duke, Mercer Ellington's memoir, Duke Ellington in Person, and a few years later Gunther Schuller's Early Jazzto give myself a foundation, especially with the discography Ulanov appends to his biography. There was also a book from the UK called Jazz on Record, which contained extensive commentary on Ellington and reference to over a hundred Ellington recordings on vinyl LPs. After I'd achieved a basic understanding of my subject, I knuckled down to the real work, finding primary sources.: news clippings, advertisements in library stacks and microfilm reels. There was no inkling of even a home computer in the 1970s.
Into the 1980s my searches took me far and wide. I remember several visits to Toad Hall in Rockford, a short drive from Chicago, to buy Ellington records, and I found plenty, almost all 78-rpm. I bought a collection of four discs on the Columbia label calledEllington Special and a splendid double-twelve inch masterpiece, the original issue of Black, Brown and Beige on RCA-Victor. I paid a small fee to have perhaps a dozen shellack discs, recording's I never heard, copied to cassettes on a big variety of labels to open up new vistas of Duke to me.
Mercer Ellington became, in 1979, one of my staunchest allies. Research led me to an interview with him between sets at aperformance at the Park West, on the North Side of Chicago.
I felt it had been a good interview (it later became an appendix to my thesis), but I had a stroke of good luck that night: A man who had overheard the conversation approached me and offer to sell his Ellington record collection at a very tempting price. I wound up buying only half of it, and I chose to take the oldies from before the Second World War. One of my purchases was a three-record Columbia box set called The Ellington Era.It was a compilation of the work Ellington had recorded for the label, and it became the cornerstone of my record collection. It also contained a beautiful booklet with fine essays by Stanley Dance and Leonard Feather.
Later the same year, Mercer returned to Chicago for the orchestra's performance at the Auditorium Theater downtown. We conversed casually until the band came onstage, during which time he introduced me to the great Cootie Williams, who went out with me for coffee in the nearby Palmer House hotel on Wabash Avenue.
After the Ellington band began to play I wandered backstage to meet the main attraction of the evening, the divine Sarah Vaughan. When I knocked on the door, I was surprised to discover her without her show clothes, including her wig. I timidly asked for and received her autograph on a piece of paper I had with me.
What I really wanted was to ask her to run away with me forever.
Cootie Williams
Harvey G. Cohen
Almost immediately after writing my thesis, I wanted to expand it into a larger, more up-to-date book, so I mailed copies out to prospective publishers. For a while I receivednothing but rejection slips, until I caught the interest ofOxford University Press editor Sheldon Meyer. (I was naive; as it turned out, Oxford sat on my manuscript for months, in order to come out later with a lackluster book by James Lincoln Collier, in order to avoid potential competition with my own work.)
.
The Chicago chapter of the Duke Ellington Society (dubbed the "Ray Nance chapter by our unofficial leader, Don Miller). As far as my listening was concerned, Don was indispensable; he had a sizeable collection of Ellington records and was happy to make cassette copies for me.
"All for the love of Duke"
"I have only two heroes: Duke Ellington and Thomas Jefferson."
2. "If you want to know Ellington, listen to the music; if you want to know Strayhorn, listen to the words... longing and loss
3. visiting her in hospital (appendectomy?)
4. rehearsing "Lush Life" with her.
5. invited her to speak to my Honors class.
6. She has elected to devote the rest of her life to religion, but her name still turns up on the Duke-LYM email list with pertinent comments and announcements (she still keeps a hand in the Ellington game).
"Salute to Strayhorn": Interview with Bill Charlap and Alyce Claerbaut
CA. 1979, I SPOKE WITH LOUIS BELLSON AT RICK'S CAFE AMERICAINE AT THE LAKE SHORE HOLIDAY INN. GEORGE DUVIVIER WAS IN HIS TRIO. BELLSON'S STORY ABOUT PASSING FOR "ALBINO" IN THE DEEP SOUTH.
1981 CHICAGO JAZZ FESTIVAL IN GRANT PARK: Bellson & Clark Terry were interviewed after their performance (by Neil Tesser?)
HELEN ENNICO, of TDES in New York, gave me all the contact information I needed for my journey to Southern California in the summer of 1982, from Patricia Willard to Stanley Dance.
1. mic set-up in his living room. We sat on armchairs, my Dad seated a few feet away.
2. for about half an hour we spoke in generalities: BB&B controversy, John Hammond, etc.
3. I had come prepared with FBI records, notes on Duke's 1950 European tour and his signature on the antiwar Stockholm Peace Petition, Ellington's lawsuit against the CPUSA and article in the right-wingThe New Leader. When I raised questions about DE's subsequent reaction to the Red Scare, Feather became defensive; after another 15 minutes, he was shouting at me and practically threw me out
DE'S SON-IN-LAW? Daniel James, probably wrote the New Leader piece.
Duke with Sid Kuller, 1941
C. Sid Kuller, at his home in Beverly Hills
1. revival of Jump for Joy, at Miami Beach's Copa City, Jan. 20-Feb. 8, 1959
a. large cast, including singers Barbara McNair, Timmie Rogers (accompanied by a vocal trio and full choir on "Show 'Em You Got Class."
b. Timner: "It appears that one entire show in the time span... was recorded live for the Columbia label; however, nothing has been released as yet [1996?].
"There is a tape circulating among collectors, which contains some of the material listed..."
c. during our interview, Kuller played 3 tunes from his own cassette tape: I was able to hear an updated "I Got it Bad," Barbara McNair and Timmie Rogers on "The Natives Are Restless Tonight," and another song I can't remember. To my everlasting regret, I lost my own recording of the interview, including the songs.
2. Kuller with DE&HO touring the Soviet Union, 1971
a. hostility of USSR govt?
b. students from Patrice Lumumba University call Harry Carney a "nigger."
John Steiner, 91, widely regarded as the world's foremost authority on early Chicago jazz, Died Saturday, June 3, 2001...
Mr. Steiner, who was smitten with the music during the first great blossoming in Chicago in the 1920s, amassed a unique personal collection of about 35,000 records plus sheet music, newspaper articles and related ephemera. The collection will be housed in the Jazz Archive of the University of Chicago Library... Born in Milwaukee and trained as a chemist at the University of Wisconsin in Madison, Mr. Steiner nourished his emerging passion for jazz by spending weekends in the nightspots of Chicago's South Side. Early on he came to know key figures such as pianist Earl Hines and drummer Baby Dodds, and befriended members of the fabled Austin High Gang (including cornetist Jimmy McPartland and saxophonist Bud Freeman.
"He would take the train down from Milwaukee or Madison and make it a weekend in
Chicago, absorb as much of the club scene as he could, then sleep in the train station, recalled Richard Wang, professor of music at the University of Illinois at Chicago.
"It was through his contacts with so many musicians he was able to begin to build his collection, and he was doing it in the 1930s, when most people were not interested in this music and its history in Chicago," added Wang.
"Without his research and appetite for Chicago music, we would be bereft information upon which future histories of this music will be based. He was the seminal figure in documenting the history of Chicago jazz."
Though Mr. Steiner worked full time as a research chemist and, in the 1960s and '70s, taught at UIC, he used his off-hours to document music in Chicago. In 1946, he dragged a portable recording machine to the Civic Opera House, climbed the catwalk above the stage, dangled a microphone below and captured the DE Orchestra on recordings that would not have existed without such efforts.
As self-styled oral historian, he taped hundreds of hours of interviews, but the exact contents of this will not be known for years, since U. of C. archivists will have to catalog two truckloads of material.
"It's a treasure-trove, said curator Gillespie, "but it's also a preservation nightmare."
In the 1940s, Mr. Steiner promoted concerts featuring McPartland and Freeman, among others, and with Hugh Davis started S&D Records to issue Chicago jazz recordings. By leasing and, in 1949, purchasing the catalogue of the old Paramount record label, Mr. Steiner was able to reissue historic recordings of Jelly Roll Morton, King Oliver, Bessie Smith, Ma Rainey, and Blind Lemon Jefferson, among others.
at the age of 12 he became the hat-check person at his father's music lodge in Milwaukee
took piano lessons at home and while at UWIS; also attended Axel Christianson's music school
as a teenager fixed his friends' radios and would hear a variety of music
his aunt Juliana, who worked qat a music store, would bring home chipped phonographs for him to listen
the ODJB made an impression on Steiner early on
Steiner was present at one of our Ellington Society gatherings when he gave me a copy of Duke's "Jig Walk on an ancient-looking 78 rpm record; he held the rights to that transcription of a piano roll from the 1920s. I recall Dick Buckley being there, too, along with Henry Quarles, all the way from Pewaukee, Wisconsin. Henry handed me a copy of an Index to Music Is My Mistress,an eighty-two page pamphlet by H. F. Huon, which was packed with useful information. I wish it were still in print.
Within a month of my sojourn in Southern California, along with other Chicagoans I attended what turned out to be the second annual international Ellington convention in Detroit (the first had been in New York the year prior). The first Ellington experts I met were Brooks Kerrand Jerry Valburn. Jerry was proud to show me the Ellington logo he'd fashioned for one of his several record labels.
Dick Buckley interview of Benny Aasland at the 1981 conversation in NY
described
Aasland's "chiseled features" description
remembers his thick Swedish accent: "Echoes of the "Yoongle"
Benny relates the enthusiasm for jazz all over the world
He said that he enjoyed "the entire spectrum of Ellington," not just the Cotton Club band, the Blanton-Webster band or the Newport band.
I knew next to nothing about Brooks Kerr, save that he was reputed to be a walking encyclopedia of Ellingtonia. He was a few years younger than I, but from the age of 28 was totally blind due to a degenerative retinal disease and glaucoma. He learned to play piano by assigning colors in his mind for each key. He studied formally at nearby Yale University and the Foote School. For a few years in the 1950s, he took private lessons from Jean Brown and a few years later worked with Russell Regain New Haven. Starting in 1964, he studied for eight years with Sanford Gold, at the Dalton School, the Manhattan School of Music, and the Juilliard School in New York. At points along the way, Kerr studied jazz with pianists Lucky Robertsand Willie "The Lion" Smith.
Following Ellington's death in 1974, Brooks recorded an album with Sonny Greer on the Chiaroscuro label,Soda Fountain Rag, and now in 1982 he honored my request for New World A-Comin' at the grand piano in the hotel lobby. For his presentation the following afternoon, however, he used his portable Cassio electronic keyboard. He entertained us with stories and demonstrated a couple of rarely-heard. post-"Soda Fountain Rag" Ellington composition, first one titled "Bitches Ball" (a fragment of which appeared in the final movement of Black, Brown and Beige), and with lyrics the self-explanatory "Whatcha Gonna Do When the Bed Breaks Down." Following these, he proceeded to demonstrate the ribald lyrics of "The Boy in the Boat," whose cleaned-up successor was Fats Waller's famous "Squeeze Me."
Washington, DC, 1983
*
In 1984, the annual convention was held in Oldham, England. I couldn't make that trip, but I caught a break when it moved to Chicago in May,1985. Willis Conover, famed jazz d.j. for the Voice of America overseas, was present, as was Gunther Schuller. He too had received a copy of my 1980 thesis, but he'd had no time to read it. Mark Tucker, just lately out of the University of Michigan's college of music, talked about his still-unpublished study, Early Ellington. (He was not impressed by my attempt at "Black and Tan Fantasy" between sessions on the piano at the conference dais.). John Steiner, along with his Chicago cohorts, spoke to the assembly as well. But the most interesting talk of all was that of Robert E. Johnson, the former executive editor ofJetmagazine.
Through his career as a journalist, Johnson became a longtime and intimate associate of Ellington, as close to Ellington as anyone outside his family could be. When speaking to Johnson, Duke always addressed him as "Ro-Bear," in the French manner). His presentation, "More Conversations with Duke,"concerned Ellington's opinions on almost everything: journalists in general, as a parent, on education, his band personnel, consistency, religiosity; as a "libertarian," on race; as a role model, and finally the way he was portrayed by Johnson Publishers the parent company of Jet.
Eddie Lambert, one of the UK's foremost Ellington experts, spoke the same day. I had the pleasure of meeting him and his companion, Elaine Norsworthy, between sessions. It had been Eddie Lambert's Ellington entry inJazz On Record that had given me a great start collecting records, but he was surprised to hear that a relatively short piece could have impressed a jazz enthusiast halfway around the world. Eddie's presentation to the. convention concerned his findings leading up to the publication of hisDuke Ellington: A Listener's Guide in 1992.
Then it was my own turn to speak on the subject of Ellington's first visit to Chicago in 1931. (The audience couldn't see my knees trembling at the start, and they laughed at a joke I told while a reel of recording tape was replaced.) I began with the need of a multi-dimensional look at Duke's career and then proceeded with my account of Ellington's first visit to Chicago in 1931, built of clippings from the local press.
Rutgers University Newark, Institute of Jazz Studies, 1986
Author and curator of the Institute, Dan Morgenstern, Martin Williams, one of the world's most admired jazz writers. I don't remember much about Morgenstern's conference presentation, I still remember and agree with his opinion that the music forAnatomy of a Murder was almost too good for the movie.
Brian Wilson,What I Really Want for Christmas (Arista, 2005)
Coming on the heels of Brian Wilson Presents SMiLE, Brian's solo Christmas album is one to put under the tree. It doesn't really compare with The Beach Boys Christmas Album from 1964, one of the finest yuletide albums ever. But it does have a some delights of its own, particularly three new, charming "Christmasy" songs.
Royal Philharmonic Orchestra, Mike Love, Bruce Johnston and Special Guests, Symphonic Sounds: Music of The Beach Boys (Platinum Entertainment, 1998)
The jury is still out, but I believe this one will far out shine the following recording:
The Beach Boys with the Royal Philharmonic Orchestra (Capitol, 2018)
Yecchhh! The Beach Boys and Capitol Records agreed to piss on the group's greatest hits.
Miles Davis, The Columbia Years, 1956-1985 (CBS 5-LP box set, 1988)
Elis Regina, Luz Das Estrelas (Som Livre/ Gala, 1982)
A year after Elis's death, her brother Rogerio extracted all the tracks in this album; the vocals were then overdubbed on a prerecorded backing track and given a lot of echo, with only one exception, All of the selections are excellent but from this perspective the tracks sound dated '80s-style, full of synths and drum machines and tinny effects. But Elis, even posthumously, didn't seem to care who was in accompaniment.
The one exception I mentioned, "Velho Arvaredo," is a perfect demonstration, in its first verse, of how beautiful a woman's voice can be while accompanied by a solo guitar.
N.B.: The following is a piece I wrote for esq in the spring of 1991.
The bulk of The Beach Boys' earliest material was not released until 1969, and from then until now collectors have had to put up with a succession of shodily- packaged LPs and bootlegged CDs that left the group sounding like rank amateurs. This compact disc, featuring the pristine sonic clarity of the original studio masters, is the first reissue of theHite Morgan productions really worth owning.* Among its treasures are five alternate takes and a complete audition session consisting of three tracks the Boys performed two weeks before their studio debut, while still calling themselves The Pendletones. This release is also the first to provide extensive session notes that, together with the music, help to clear up some hoary mythology and mistaken discography.
In the interest of accuracy here are some notes on the group's first four sessions. The CD program duplicates my order of presentation, with the exception of "Lavender" from the initial rehearsal tapes and Session #4, which I insert before the February session.
SESSION #1: The Pendletones, September 15, 1961, Hite Morgan home studio audition.
1. "Lavender" (Dorinda Morgan)
2. "Luau" (Bruce Morgan)
3. "Surfin'" (Brian Wilson, Mike Love)
Unbelievable as it seems, the tape reel of this session was stashed away and forgotten for almost thirty years among the memorabilia of Hite Morgan's son, Bruce. Now released for the first time, these demos recorded in Morgan's living room reveal a well-rehearsed and adventuresome vocal quartet (Dennis Wilson apparently was not present). While "Surfin'" and "Luau" are accompanied by acoustic guitar rhythm, "Lavender" is performed a cappella. As the notes point out, this track puts to rest the supposition that The Beach Boys did not attempt a jazzy, Four Freshmen-style vocal arrangement until Brian had time to experiment in the studio. If there is one shining jewel in this collection, "Lavender" is it.
SESSION #2: The Beach Boys, October 3 , 1961, World Pacific Studios, Los Angeles.
Most sources give the date October 4 and the venue Keen Studios in Beverly Hills, so there are still some questions about this session. Some myths, however, can be put to rest. One of them, that "Luau" was sprung on the group as a surprise flip-side, is refuted by the fact that the Boys had auditioned it in September. Another, that "Surfin'" was done in one quick take for the Candix single and later rerecorded for Capitol, is given the kabash here. Brian plays snare drum, and again Dennis is not present (Some accounts have Brian playing upon a plastic trash can lid, but the improved sound quality here clearly reveals wire brushes on a snare). Carl Wilson and Al Jardine accompany on acoustic guitar and string bass. The CD includes takes 1 (false start), 2, and 7 (master take) of "Surfin'." The first complete take is marred by a squeak and by Brian's loss of the beat in the last chorus. On "Luau," we hear takes 1 (fs), 2, and the master.
SESSION #3: The Beach Boys, February 8, 1962, World Pacific Studios.
On all previous issues, these sides have been distinguished by their crude, "garage-band" sound; here it seems as if a gray veil has been lifted. The personnel this time is Brian on Fender bass, Carl on electric guitar, and Dennis on drums. As before, the tunes are performed "live," vocals and instruments together. For "Surfin' Safari," the CD includes takes one and five, the selected master. On both the tempo is rushed, Mike's vocal is slightly breathless, and the muffled drum is out of sync with the guitar. Carl, however, turns out two little gems in his solos turns. (The hit version that later appeared on Capitolcaught on, I'm convinced, largely because of Carl's guitar break.)
In addition, there is an interesting but crude attempt to create a stereo "Safari" by overdubbing a separate channel of electric lead guitar and a full drum kit. It doesn't quite work out, mainly because the drummer (presumably Dennis) can't seem to find the beat.
There can be no more eye-opening comparison than between this "Surfer Girl" and the one released by Capitol in 1963, nor any better measure of what Brian learned about producing records in the meantime. In the studio chatter before the performance, we can hear Brian's request that the bass part be omitted and overdubbed later, but the man in the booth nixes the idea. The result is an echo-chamber mishmash with a droning bass line, not at all the kind of sound Brian had in mind. It is probably not too wild to assume that The Beach Boys' move to Capitol was the direct result of his dissatisfaction with the sound on these versions of "Surfin' Safari" and "Surfer Girl."
The remaining tracks are more successful rhythmically, though not important to the group's catalogue. "Karate" has been described as an edit of the longer "Beach Boy Stomp," but close listening will confirm that two choruses of Carl's guitar solo were simply repeated at the end to create the "Stomp" version. The first of a long series of Carl Wilson blues instrumentals, "Stomp" is a rudimentary nod to Dick Dale, but it has never before sounded so crisp. Likewise, the rhythm on "Judy" really pops.
SESSION #4: Kenny and the Cadets, March 8, 1962, unknown studio in Los Angeles.
1. "Barbie" (Bruce Morgan)
2. "What Is a Young Girl Made Of" (Bruce Morgan)
The Kenny and the Cadets session seems to be a consolation gesture from the Wilsons to the Morgans for having broken their management contract to sign with Capitol. The chronology here is tricky, though: Murry Wilson's "letter of intent" agreement with Hite Morgan is dated March 29, nearly a month after this session took place. If these dates are correct, the rationale given for the session appears strange. In addition to Brian's lead, on backing vocals we hear Carl, Al we and Audree Wilson, the mother of Brian and his brothers. Both sides were performed over a pre-recorded instrumental track. The stereo release on this CD allows isolation of the vocals. On "Barbie" the backing vocals are on the same track as Brian's lead, but on "Young Girl" they are done with the instruments, and we can hear the nineteen-year-old man child Brian singing alone. His octave leap on "Young Girl" is something to behold. "I almost started laughing," he confesses after the take.
*A two-disc set, Becoming The Beach Boys, was issued in 2016 and presented the sessions in their entirety.
The following piece first appeared in esq, summer 1991. (I was submitting them hand-over-fist that year.)
From the first notes of the first track on this CD, it becomes abundantly clear that the Four Freshmen were the very paragon and inspiration for The Beach Boys' sound, and Beach Boys fans will be especially gratified to find here both "Graduation Day" and "Their Hearts Were Full of Spring" as Brian Wilson first heard them in his teens. Brian modeled his own voice upon Freshmen lead singerBob Flanigan and his own group arrangements after Freshmen timbres, voicing, and phrasing. If you love the vocal sound of The Beach Boys, your first experience of The Four Freshmen may come as a revelation.
From their beginning in 1948, The Four Freshmen set precedents, as Scott Shea's excellent notes to the CD explain: "They were the first four-part group to sing sophisticated jazz arrangements, redefining vocal harmonies: they were among the first artists to use the long-playing album to express a consistent musical theme."
This CD affords an ideal introduction to the quartet's work, and for those already familiar, it offers the pristine clarity of digital sound. The material is presented in chronological order, beginning with the group's signature tune, "It's a Blue World" (1952), and ending with "And So It's Over" (1962), a number the Freshmen used to close their live sets. In between there is a good balance of ballads, up-tempo performances, and Latin rhythms, with accompaniment both by the Freshmen alone and by various studio combinations. As a "greatest hits" anthology, it leaves the listener yearning for more, and there is plenty where this one came from: The Four Freshmen have released 41 LPs to date, 28 of them on the Capitol label. Let's hope that the response to this CD will lead to more digital reissues in the future.
NB: I present this piece in two parts, one an esq critique from my perspective when Stars and Stripes first appeared, the other a reflection on the past thirty or forty years of The Beach Boys' sixty-year run.
The esq piece appeared in September, 1996:
The Beach Boys, Stars and Stripes, Vol. 1 (River North, 1996)
Take a tip from the old Les McCann-Eddie Davis hit, "Compared to What?" Your enjoyment of this latest Beach Boys CD will depend greatly upon the level of your expectations. No, it's no Sunflower or even an L.A. In fact, it's not exactly a Beach Boys album at all. It is rather another showcase for their big '60s hits, with the twist of the Boys relegating themselves to the background, doing their best to make other singers (most of them up-and-coming or second-tier, depending on your point of view) sound better than they really are. But compared to the other crap o the radio these days, hey: it ain't that bad. If you can resist the temptation to compare these tracks to the original Beach Boys records, this can be an enjoyable listen. It's meant to be taken as a lightweight entry, and on those terms it succeeds.
Bright spots first: The Beach Boys themselves haven't sung together this well on record in a heifer's age. Summer in Paradise in particular had them sounding so homogenized and synthetic that renditions that were meant as loving tributes to originals by others-- and in a couple of cases, themselves-- turned out devoid of spontaneity and spirit. There are no drum machines this time; if the instrumental tracks are not inspired, at least they are human.
Neither are the Boys content with a mechanical repetition of their old charts. There are fresh vocal arrangements on many of the old warhorses, done by none other than Mr. Country Feelin's himself, Brian Wilson. As coproducer with Nashville's Joe Thomas, Brian had a chance to work alongside country-pop visionary Jimmy Webb. Along with the other Beach Boys, Brian did his thing at the mic as well, and if he couldn't quite hit the high notes like he used to, there was Matt Jardine, who has been appearing regularly with the group on their current tour, to restore the lustrous falsetto sound we haven't heard since Brian went down on his luck twenty years ago.
Matt Jardine stands between Wilson-Phillips and Mike Love
There are four or five tracks that stand out from the rest. Lorrie Morgan leads off the album with "Don't Worry Baby," sounding comfortable and believable in the dragstrip setting of the song. (While there's no surf in Nashville, they do have their demolition derbies.) The song most deserving of wide exposure is "The Warmth of the Sun, featuring the legendary Willie Nelson, whose recruitment brought Brian on board this project at the beginning. It's one of Brian's most nearly perfect compositions and an ideal vehicle for the laconic Nelson. Kathy Troccoli sings an energetic "I Can Hear Music" (currently in the Adult Contemporary top twenty and still rising), and Timothy B. Schmit does a very un-countryish, but credible performance on a "Caroline, No" enriched by a new harmony arrangement for voices and strings that finishes the album out in grand style.
While I don't care quite as much for Collin Raye's lead on "Sloop John B," this tune also allows the Boys to fully strut their stuff, and Matt duets with Collin beautifully on the first chorus.
That said, this album-- given the C&W premise-- could have been a lot better in any number of ways. I'm surprised by the relative paucity of ballads here, generally a mainstay of country music. It seems natural that the few that are included-- that is, most of the ones I have just named-- are among the most appealing and successful on the album. I'm also curious about the non-inclusion of Beach Boys songs that, while not necessarily hits, were meant as C&W tunes, "Country Air," "Back Home," etc.
This is probably explained by the disc's almost total concentration on their greatest hits, sacrificing variety to a string of rockers, all at nearly the same tempo, by lead singers who sound nearly alike. I sometimes have to check the song-listing to recall that it's James House singing "Little Deuce Coupe," Junior Brown on "409," Doug Supernaw on "Long Tall Texan," Mark Miller (of the band Sawyer Brown) on "I Get Around" (with real handclaps by God!), Toby Keith on "Be True to Your School," Ricky Van Shelton on "Fun, Fun, Fun," and Graham Brown on "Help Me Rhonda." The two female singers fare well in comparison; I wish there had been a few more represented.*
Finally, some of the backing tracks seem rushed, especially on these fast songs, and several of the singers sound awkward as a result; "Rhonda" comes off most ungainly of all (it's got to be san-copa-ted.) The Beach Boys themselves play no instrument on any of these tracks, which are handled by Nashville cats, as I suppose they should be; still, it would have been nice to hear Carl take an occasional guitar break just to inject a little personality into an otherwise bland instrumental arrangement.
In short, I'm looking forward to a better Volume 2, one that features more excessive singers in a more reflective mood, singing tunes more directly descended from C&W traditions. I'd also welcome The Beach Boys handling a tune or two all by themselves to put their own stamp on the classics of country.
* 2021 note: Stars and Stripes appeared too early to include a sweet duet between Tammy Wynette and Brian Wilson on "In My Room," one of the last tunes she recorded before her death.
A FOND FAREWELL AND A LOOK AHEAD
For my money, The Beach Boys never recovered from the shock of losing Dennis Wilson. No longer could the group benefit from his unique writing and producing talent, but even more they would miss the sound of his voice in the stack, unmistakable, like a little cowlick within an otherwise perfect arrangement.
By 1998, with the death of Carl Wilson, even that perfect sheen, honed by decades of rehearsing and performing together, would be lost. The Beach Boys' past twenty-three years have been the story of, at first three, and now two competing factions. Their single reunion--Brian, Mike Al, Bruce, and David Marks-- for an album and a tour emphasized what they were still capable of doing, but the Boys are getting old, and with each passing year the chances of another reunion recede.
The first obvious thing about KTSA is the absence of Dennis's input, especially when compared to their prior release, L. A. : Light Album, which he rescued with material from his current solo project, Bambu.
Aside from "Goin' On" and the decade-old "When Girls Get Together," there really isn't an interesting track on the album.
The following release five years later, titled simply The Beach Boys, let them down by the sterile, synth-laden production of Steve Levine, the erstwhile producer of the latest fad, Boy George. Some of the tracks do appeal to me: Al's "Crack at Your Love" (!), Mike's "Getcha Back," Brian's "I'm So Lonely," and an interesting dive into Stevie Wonder's "I Do Love You," where I swear Carl and Al's leads both sound as if Stevie himself had sung it.
The best cut on the album, though, was the CD bonus track"Male Ego," if only for the fact it sound like a Brian Wilson production (but isn't).
Their next release, Still Cruising', was a cop-out of sorts, padded out with three songs from their sixties heyday and fair-to-middlin' new material. It marked the album release of their number-one hit-- the first since "Good Vibrations" in 1966-- "Kokomo," which received wide exposure in the Tom Cruise film, Cocktail. Better, though, is Al's swing at "Somewhere Near Japan," which succeeds in creating the tense dilemma set in the lyrics. Many of the rest are included by virtue of their being used in movies, like "Make It Big," but then there are"Island Girl" and the wretched "Wipe Out" with the Fat Boys. And Brian's sole contribution, the clunky "In My Car," has Eugene Landy" written all over it.
(Our sponsor here inserts an unpublished piece he once wrote for esq:)
The good news is that the Beach Boys, after some seven years without a bona fide label contract, managed to get an album out at all. For the third time in their career, the Brother appellation appears, this time as "Brother Entertainment," whose "Executive in Charge of Production" is Michael Edward Love and which is distributed by theNavarre Corporation. Brother's old Indian logo, however has made way for something that resembles a flatted pyramid.
The bad news, of course, is that it's more of the same emotionally inert pop pap that has constituted the bulk of the group's studio output over the past decade. It's not that these tunes aren't pleasant to hear, but once you've heard one Terry Melcher production of a Mike Love song, you've heard them all: "Island Fever" is the latest Kokomo-Klone, while "Lahaina Aloha" recapitulates "Somewhere Near Japan," and neither gets better the second time around. In all, Mike Love co-wrote and sang lead on half the album's songs, the balance consisting of oldie covers and "Slow Summer Dancin'," not one of Bruce Johnston's better efforts. In fact, Summer in Paradise is more a Mike Love album than a Beach Boys album; Brian, of course, had nothing to do with it, and the other three guys appear to be present only to relieve the tedium of Mike's lead vocal on nearly every track.
A few words are in order concerning the oldies in the lineup.Sly Stone's "Hot Fun in the Summertime" is probably the most successful, although interest declines rapidly after the first chorus. A synthetic-sounding "Under the Boardwalk" is rescued by Carl's pretty rendition of the refrain, but even he cannot salvage "Remember," a pallid, robotic nineties-style update of the old hi. Without question, the low spot is "Surfin'," which barely resembles the single that started it all for the Boys thirty years ago.
Remember that crude, makeshiftHite Morgan production? Well, compared to this retread, it was a masterpiece. The new version could be a textbook example on how to waste all the advances in recording technique that have accrued since the original, whose raw energy and sheer joy seem to be mocked here by a condescending attitude and stultifying layers of studio glitz.
Finally John Stamos, who coproduced and sings a Dennis-like lead on "Forever," managed to accomplish a fairly literal remake of the Sunflower track, but it serves only to reemphasize the pointlessness of the whole effort. In short, one seeks in vain for the one cut that could redeem this album, but it simply isn't there: no musical surprises and certainly nothing to challenge one's imagination.
This is the first release I'm aware of marketed in the "eco-pack," which dispenses with the
customary throwaway wrapper. While it's certainly in keeping with the album's ecological slant, you may need a set of instructions to assemble it and a pair of pliers to open the damned thing. Other than that, Robert Lyn Nelson's artwork is the only distinctive feature in this entire project. My advice: buy the package and throw away the CD.
Here we arrive where we began, at the 1996 release of Stars and Stripes, Volume 1, the final Beach Boys album of the last century. With any luck at all, there will never be a Volume 2.
WHAM! Many fans besides me, I'm sure, had been hoping against hope for a new Beach Boys album featuring the five surviving members of the group. It finally arrived with their reunion tour in 2012, and it turned out to be a brilliant success.
As the group nears its 60th anniversary, I'm afraid there's little to come from this time hence.