The Musical MP – George Melachrino

I thought maybe I’d revisit the subject of easy listening music, the sweet and melodious kind that was the specialty of a few band directors I’ve written about before, like Mantovani, Kostelanetz, and Percy Faith. But I don’t think any of those particular guys had a background like George Melachrino, who in addition to his musical talents was also once a military policeman.

Melachrino was the British-born son of Greek immigrants whose real name was Militiades, although not much is known about why he later changed it for something almost as difficult to spell. What is known is that he was always musically-inclined, learning violin at a very young age and continuing with a solid musical education throughout his formative years. Along the way, the immensely talented young man learned to play just about every instrument around, and he could sing too.

By the time he’d reached adulthood in the late 1920s he was ready for a life as a professional musician, and wasted no time employing his skills in a series of jobs that gradually led him from classical music to jazz. By 1939 he was even leading his own orchestra, but unfortunately World War II was starting and that changed everything.

Melachrino joined the British army and was assigned to the Military Police division, but eventually his musical abilities were recognized and he spent the majority of the war as the leader of several different musical groups. By the time the war ended, he was well-positioned for a career as an orchestra leader and he was soon doing just that, with a lot of attention paid to the group that would generate his signature sounds — the Melachrino Strings.

Specializing in lush and romantic music, Melachrino spent the next couple of decades staking his claim as one of the busiest music directors around, selling countless records with his Music For Moods series. Among his 50+ albums were also light classics, show tunes, and music from the many movies he wrote for. He died in 1965 in a home accident, but his orchestra continued for a few years under new direction.

Melachrino – “La Mer”

REVIEW: Kevin Hays Trio – You’ve Got A Friend

When you consider all the permutations that are possible with jazz combos — not only with the number of musicians but also the instruments they play — you might occasionally find yourself craving something simple and basic. One of the purest choices would have to be a trio consisting of piano, bass and drums.

Having chosen, you might then find yourself looking for a threesome of artists who understand the concept and have the skills to do it up right. Enter the Kevin Hays Trio, with an outstanding new album, You’ve Got A Friend, now out on the Jazz Eyes label.

Hays is one of those guys who kind of sneak up on you a little — not a particularly big name in the pantheon of current jazz pianists, but someone who is talented and respected, and has a surprisingly long list of accomplishments. For one thing, in his two decades of activity he’s generated almost a dozen solid albums.

In his current effort he’s again teamed up with bassist Doug Weiss and drummer Bill Stewart, both vital parts of the group’s well-received previous album, Seventh Sense. This time around the trio is exploring a collection that is a little more pop-oriented, at least with some of the choices. Included are a very nice treatment Carole King’s “You’ve Got A Friend,” (which also serves as the album’s title) and what was probably my favorite here, McCartney’s “Fool On The Hill.” Both pieces give Hays a chance to show his keyboard skills, turning in some delicious improvisation while maintaining the melodies.

Another song from the pop world, Paul Simon’s “Bridge Over Troubled Water,” provides bassist Weiss an opportunity to earn his keep, and he does a good job of reminding us why he’s one of the most-respected around. (This track is offered as a free download by Jazz Eyes.)

But this album is also about other kinds of jazz, with offerings like Hays’ emulation of Thelonious Monk on his classic “Think Of One,” and a solid reworking of Charlie Parker’s “Cheryl.” Although Bird himself actually had more than one version of the piece, it’s a safe bet that none were like this one — I.E. without saxophone — but it’s still a nice listen, and the same could be said about all the tracks here. Recommended.

The Paler George Hamilton

I suppose it might be due to the approach of July 4th, but for some reason I found myself thinking today about George Hamilton IV. (And by the way, you do know that I’m not talking about the terrifically tanned guy, right?)

Hamilton the musician was one of the pioneers of the early rock and roll movement, but in the decades since has found much more success in pure country, along with gospel music. He’s probably best known now for his huge country hit, “Abilene,” but through the years he’s had a ton of songs hit the charts.

Born in North Carolina, young George was inspired by Gene Autry, who was a big singing star in the post-war years. George soon learned how to play guitar and sing a little too, and by his high school years was leading his own band. In fact, he was still a teenager in 1956 when he managed to make a recording of struggling songwriter John Loudermilk’s teen ballad “A Rose And A Baby Ruth.”

Lightning struck in the form of a top-ten hit, a new recording contract, and a future that included a place in rock and roll shows alongside stars like Buddy Holly and the Everly Brothers. But even though 1957’s “Why Don’t They Understand” crept into 10th place on the charts, his subsequent pop records didn’t do as well. Within a few years George had moved back to his first love, country music.

Appearing regularly on the Grand Ole Opry, George soon became a popular part of the country music scene. He began spinning out a series of best-selling records over the next decade and a half, including “Before This Day Ends,” “Three Steps To The Phone,” and of course his big number-one, “Abilene,” which was so popular that it even crossed over to the pop charts. (Video below.)

As the years passed, the top-ten hits continued, but George gradually began diversifying a little. For one thing, he began to lean a little closer to folk music by recording many of Gordon Lightfoot’s songs. He also helped bring country music to other parts of the world through his global tours, earning himself the title of International Ambassador of Country Music.

By the late 1970s George found himself more and more drawn to gospel music, and that’s where he’s pretty much stayed ever since. George Hamilton IV is still performing today — and looks pretty pale when compared to the Hollywood George.

Bobby Lewis And The School Of Hard Knocks

It’s an expression that we’ve all heard countless times and one that certainly could be applied to a lot of musicians, but when it comes to being a graduate of the school of hard knocks, Bobby Lewis definitely qualifies.

The R&B singing star, whose recording of “Tossin’ And Turnin’” rose to the number-one spot on the charts in 1961, came a long way from his humble beginnings. Born in Kentucky but raised in an Indianapolis orphanage, even at a young age he showed some musical aptitude. But things didn’t always goe smoothly for young Bobby, and by his early teens he’d been placed into — and run away from — at least one foster home. By age 14 he was on his own.

It must have been very tough for him to survive in America in that era — not just for the ever-present racism, but also because the country was just entering World War II. But in spite of all that was going on he somehow managed to stay afloat. Sticking mostly to the Midwest, he spent some time in both Indianapolis and Detroit and had a lot of jobs, at one point even working in a carnival.

In the post-war years he finally began to make some headway into a musical career, making spot appearances in small clubs and latching on as a singer with the Leo Hines Orchestra. By the 1950s he’d managed to land a limited recording contract, but successful record sales eluded him. In 1960 he finally got his break.

By then he was in New York and making occasional appearances at the Apollo Theater. That in turn led to a connection with a small recording company, Beltone Records, and a trip to the studio to cut what would be his one big hit, “Tossin’ And Turnin’.” By early 1961 the record had shot up the charts and hit the top, selling millions of copies.

It was so successful that Beltone allowed Bobby to record enough additional songs to fill an album, but even though one other tune — “One Track Mind” — did well as a single, none approached the success of his biggest hit. After Beltone itself went under, Bobby managed to record a few records for other companies but eventually pretty much retired, although he has occasionally appeared in Oldies shows. (Video below.)

REVIEW: Kyle Eastwood – Metropolitain

Let’s get the obvious question out of the way first. Yes, Kyle Eastwood is Clint’s son. And yes, he’s the same kid who showed up with his Dad in 1982’s Honkytonk Man, one of several of the elder Eastwood’s movies that have connections with music. Clint’s love of all things musical is pretty well documented, and it appears that music — rather than film work — has been the primary muse followed by son Kyle. (Clint’s daughter Alison went the other way.)

An accomplished jazz composer and bassist who’s equally at home with electric or acoustic, Kyle Eastwood has built a solid career in more than a decade of professional music. He has contributed to a number of soundtracks, has led various groups, and has generated several albums — two appearing on the charts — since his debut effort, 1998’s There To Here. His newest album, Metropolitain, is now out on the Rendezvous (Mack Avenue) label.

The spelling in the title might furnish a hint to the fact that the album was recorded in Paris, where Eastwood enlisted a variety of musicians to help bring to life what is mostly a collection of his own compositions. The ten tracks utilize a variety of mix and match groups that vary in size from a trio to an 11-piece combo.  Among the notables making appearances are trumpeter Till Brönner, drummer Manu Katche, and keyboardist Eric Legnini. A couple of the tracks also feature vocals, although in one case it’s French singer Camille performing mostly wordless background.

Leader Eastwood is front and center of some of the pieces, including the very nice “Le Balai,” which starts softly but steadily builds into a driving tempo, and “Samba de Paris,” which was probably my favorite here. Eastwood’s solid bass plays off Legnini’s piano, and Brönner’s trumpet completes the sound on this Latin-flavored tune. And Eastwood is almost the whole show on the deceptively simple “Song For You,” but he’s also is smart enough — and secure enough — to step back into mostly accompaniment on many of the other tracks, providing room for the other musicians to work. Some of the best of those pieces include “Bel Air,” a showcase for Legnini’s keyboard, and “Bold Changes,” which gives listeners a chance to enjoy the tenor sax of Graeme Blevins.

Just in case you were wondering, the track that utilizes an 11-piece group is the last one on the album, and it’s something a little different. For one, it features eight musicians and three vocalists, with the lead carried by guest singer Toyin, and although it’s an enjoyable listen, it does have a distinctly different sound.

If that all sounds a little confusing, don’t let it deter you from taking a closer look at this album. Eastwood makes all this work pretty well, and has put together an intriguing collection of modern jazz that borrows a little from contemporary, funk, and even Latin jazz.

Doc Watson Is Still Pickin’

Whew. I just listened to a little piece called “Nashville Pickin’,” by a multiple Grammy winner who is among the best to ever pick up a guitar, and yet he remains a relative unknown to many modern country music fans. Maybe that just says something about the direction country music has moved in recent years, but it would certainly be nice to see a little more appreciation sent the way of Doc Watson.

Which is not to say that he’s been completely unappreciated. A Grammy winner in every decade since the 1970s, for many years he’s had the admiration and respect of a lot of knowledgeable fans, and has reached nearly God-like status with just about every professional guitarist around. He’s considered one of the all-time greats of the acoustic guitar, along with his contemporaries (and buddies) Chet Atkins and Merle Travis.

Arthel Lane Watson was born in North Carolina, and had the dual disadvantage of  losing his sight to illness while still very young and spending much of his childhood in the midst of the Great Depression. On the plus side, his family was strong and supportive and he grew to adulthood well-equipped to follow the path mandated by his musical talents.

During World War II and in the years following, Doc performed in relative obscurity nationally, although he did work regularly in everything from radio to county fairs, showcasing his guitar and his strong, natural singing voice. But even if he wasn’t hitting the big time during that period, he was busy in other ways. For one, he was building a family, and as he and new wife Rosa began to have children he found that his father-in-law, country fiddler Gaither W. Carlton, was a good source for another of Doc’s interests. He soon began building what would become his encyclopedic knowledge of traditional American music.

By the 1950s, Doc had begun to play electric guitar in addition to acoustic, and as he performed in various groups he even found himself occasionally playing a little rock and roll. But by the end of the decade he’d moved back closer to traditional country and folk music and had pretty much decided to stick to acoustic guitar, although he’d added banjo to his skill set. The stage was set for his breakout, which came via his appearance on the 1960 album, Old Time Music at Clarence Ashley’s. Ashley was a folk music icon from an earlier era, but he’d had some recent successes that allowed him to put together a recording session with Doc and a few others. Even though the two would continue to work together from time to time, it was this landmark album that played a significant part in Doc’s march to stardom.

In the decades since, Doc has enjoyed success after success, including star turns at folk festivals and appearances with many of the biggest names around. In addition to working with his fellow guitar virtuosos Atkins and Travis, he’s also shown up in highly visible guest spots such as performing on the Nitty Gritty Dirt Band’s seminal 1972 album, Will the Circle Be Unbroken.

He also helped give a start to his talented son, Merle Watson, and the two performed together for many years, including a period as a trio with bassist Michael Coleman. (Video below.) Unfortunately, Merle died in a tragic accident at the family farm in 1985, but even though that slowed Doc a little, this much-honored national treasure  eventually continued doing what he still does better than almost anybody — making music.

Slim & Slam’s Sly Song

I’ve always been fascinated by novelty songs, and I especially like those that have hidden meanings, although in some cases they’re barely concealed. That type of song is one that the songwriter is aiming at a certain audience — the kind that will “get it” — while hiding it from straight listeners.

A good example would be a little ditty written by Slim Gaillard, who was part of a popular novelty duo known as Slim & Slam. The song was called “Flat Foot Floogie (with a Floy Floy)“, and Slim and his partner Slam Stewart managed to turn it into a big hit in the late 1930s — even though most of those listening to it didn’t really understand the title’s true meaning.

Depending on the source, Slim (Bulee) Gaillard was born in Cuba, or maybe Florida, or possibly even Detroit, but what is known for sure is that he grew up in urban Detroit and was well-acquainted with African-American street argot. When he wrote the song and teamed up with his partner, Slam (Leroy) Stewart, to perform it, he knew exactly what the title meant, but he counted on sliding it by the straight-laced establishment of the times.

It seems that a “Flat Foot Floogie” (or floozie) was common urban slang for a streetwalker; and “Floy Floy” was another name for gonorrhea. So even though that seems pretty tame now, in those days it would have scandalized most listeners to discover that they were enjoying a song about a hooker with the clap.

Slim and Slam had some success for a few years after that and even appeared as a novelty musical act in movies, but eventually split. Both went on to have pretty good individual careers, although Slim was probably the better-known of the two. His talent on both piano and guitar, along with his ability to jive-talk with the best of them, helped him find decades of success before his death in 1991. Slam was a solid bassist who mostly concentrated on traditional jazz, working with many of the greats until he died in 1987.

Dad Was Never ‘The Old Man’

Fathers’ Day inevitably stirs memories, not only of my own experiences as a father but also those of my Dad. It was 25 years ago that we lost him but he’s still fondly remembered, and isn’t that the kind of immortality we can all hope for?

I remember calling him Daddy when I was little and then Dad as I grew older, which is probably what most kids do — or at least the sons. Daughters seem to stick with Daddy a little longer, and sometimes never change. (Speaking of daughters, look closely at who’s peeking from behind Dad’s legs in the picture.)

Of course, there are a lot of other names for Dad. Your family might be more accustomed to using Papa or Pops or any one of a number of others, but the one name I could never get comfortable with was The Old Man. I know a lot of kids used the term affectionately, and one of my favorite writers, Jean Shepherd, got a lot of mileage with it in his nostalgic stories, but it just never felt right to me and I’ve never used it.

I’m not sure that British psych-pop group Fire really meant to participate in that particular discussion when they recorded what would be their most memorable song, but the title certainly fits and it’s a pretty good song too.

Fire – “Father’s Name Is Dad”

REVIEW: Frank Wess Nonet – Once Is Not Enough

If you’re into all things jazz, you might have read the recent announcement about the winners of this year’s Jazz Journalists Association awards, and you might even have noticed that the title of Flutist of the Year was given to Frank Wess. It’s just the latest of the many honors the talented instrumentalist has received throughout his long career. Equally adept on the saxophone, Wess came to prominence during his service with Count Basie in the Fifties, and for decades has been one of the most respected musicians around.

In a nice bit of timing, Wess has also generated a new album — Once Is Not Enough — and it’s now out on the Labeth Music label. It’s a follow-up (of sorts) to his recent duo with Hank Jones, Hank and Frank II, and features the veteran jazzman leading a nine-piece group — something a little different for him. His usual experience has been in small groups or full bands, but by putting together a nonet he’s giving himself the flexibility to handle just about anything.

Among the members of the group are some impressive musicians, including trumpeter Frank Greene, reedmen Ted Nash and Scott Robinson, and trombonist Steve Turre. A couple of guest stars — pianist Michael Weiss and bassist Rufus Reid — also make occasional appearances, giving Wess even more options to use, and he’s very creative in utilizing variously-sized combos for each track.

In addition to his playing talents, Wess is also a much-respected composer and arranger, and a half-dozen of the nine tracks here are his own compositions. The best among those are the title tune, which gives Robinson some space to show off his baritone sax play, and the gorgeous “Dementia, My Darling.” It’s a lush ballad dedicated to Wess’ granddaughter, and features some outstanding tenor play from grandpa. It was probably my favorite here.

Wess shows his flute at its best on a couple of the three standards on the album. Specifically, I enjoyed “Sweet And Lovely,” a Lemre/Tobias/Arnheim piece that’s always enjoyable, and the old chestnut, “Fly Me To The Moon.” The latter also gives us the opportunity to again hear Robinson’s baritone, but is mostly a showcase for the leader’s flute.

A nice collection from Frank and his nonet, one that should appeal to traditional jazz fans. Recommended.

The Blue Lady — Helen Forrest

I was listening to one of my favorites recently, and as I enjoyed the music I thought to myself that it was a perfect example of how the singers who performed in the big band era did their job. The song, performed by Harry James and his orchestra with a vocal by songbird Helen Forrest, was the aptly-named “Skylark,” with Harry’s trumpet dominating early and Helen coming in much later. That’s how it worked at that time — the bandleaders were usually the superstars and the singers were part of the supporting cast. But some of the vocalists would eventually become stars in their own right, and Helen was one who built a nice career along the way.

This isn’t the first time I’ve written about the Songbirds, the name that’s often given to the ladies who sang with the big bands. (Just do a search on this site for “songbirds” and you’ll see what I mean.) However, it is the first time I’ve featured Helen Forrest, and she was one of the best.

A New Jersey native whose real name was Helen Fogel, she got her start as a very young singer for her brother’s band. By the late 1930s, she’d worked her way into a spot with Artie Shaw — replacing the legendary Billie Holiday — but Shaw soon went into one of his many sabbaticals so she was out of a job. Luckily, she was able to catch on with another clarinet superstar, Benny Goodman. How’s that for landing on your feet?

During the war years, Helen worked with Lionel Hampton and others, and eventually began her stint with Harry James, one that would lead to a lot of hit records. She sometimes billed herself as Bonnie Blue or the Blue Lady, and was always a hit with fans. She continued to diversify by making the occasional spot appearance in movies, and also by teaming up with crooner Dick Haymes on his popular radio show. The duo also teamed up for a series of hit records.

By the 1950s, Helen had started to cut back on her performing. Over the next couple of decades she made occasional appearances, and was still cutting records in the 1980s, but within a few years she was pretty much retired from music. She died in 1999, but will always be remembered as one of the best of the songbirds.