Artist Interview

Solo George Cables makes rare appearance

By Tom Ineck

The solo George Cables is a rare and wonderful thing. The jazz piano master is so popular as an accompanist and as the leader of his own groups that he seldom has the opportunity to do a one-man show. But it is in that liberating solo setting that he truly shines as a keyboard artist.

That’s why his performance March 13 at the Topeka Performing Arts Center in Topeka, Kan., was looked forward to with such anticipation. It was also the final concert in the first annual Berman Jazz Series. You will find the concert review elsewhere in this issue of Jazz.

Cables is a longtime favorite at the Berman Music Foundation, having fronted a trio three years ago at the outdoor Jazz in June series here in Lincoln. The BMF also has reviewed his occasional recordings. I recently connected with the pianist by telephone at his New York home. I asked about his solo experience.

“I’ve done a little bit of solo performance, every now and then,” he said. In recent years, private “house concerts” have allowed the solo Cables to venture out more frequently. “When people have a real nice piano and they sort of organize the ticket sales so they can fill that space up, I just do an intimate concert, which is really fun.” Those venues have been especially lucrative for Cables on the West Coast, places like Seattle in Washington; Portland, Salem and Eugene in Oregon; and, of course, the San Francisco area.

Touring piano players, historically, have had to come to grips with the fact that they are at the mercy of the performance venue and its house instrument. Cables explained the relationship.

“You go and you say hello to the piano, and you get to know it and, hopefully, it will be cooperative,” he said. “I really enjoy that because it gets to be very personal. When you play a solo concert or a duo concert, for that matter—piano/guitar or piano/saxophone—the character of the music that you most feel is the intimacy of just the one or two instruments. There’s a direct communication. It’s more personal with just one or two people playing.”

The solo art also dictates, to some extent, the repertoire.

“There are just some tunes I don’t play when I’m playing solo,” Cables said. “I try not to play typical solo piano. You may be interchangeable with many other pianists. I try to play myself and play my music the way I hear it played.”

Dynamics also enters into the solo equation. Just because the setting is more intimate and the audience is smaller than most group performances, Cables does not necessarily rely more heavily on the more personal ballad form.

“Most of the stuff I play is not ballads. If they are, the tempos move from slow to something faster within the tune.” For example, Cables’ 1994 Concord Records recording in the Maybeck Recital Hall series of live solo performances begins with the ballad “Over the Rainbow” and also contains renditions of “Bess, You Is My Woman Now,” his own composition “Lullaby” and Anton Dvorak’s take on the old spiritual “Goin’ Home.” But within most of these performances are variations that step up the tempo, creating a range of dynamics.

The Maybeck recording, by the way, also features Cables employing shifting tempos on “My Man’s Gone Now,” “Someone to Watch Over Me,” “You Don’t Know What Love Is” and “Everything Happens to Me,” among others. The key, as Cables makes clear, is keeping it fresh and personal. By definition, the solo art allows for more self-expression than a group interplay.

“I like dynamics. Silence is as important as sound. You need the contrast.”

Over the years, Cables has recorded many George Gershwin tunes, including an entire trio recording of his compositions on 1987’s “By George,” on Contemporary Records. “I think Gershwin and Ellington are America’s two greatest composers,” he says without hesitation.

Despite a downturn in jobs for New York City-based jazz artists since Sept. 11, 2001, Cables has been keeping relatively busy. He recently led a trio with bassist Essiet Essiet and drummer Victor Lewis at the Metropolitan Museum of Art. The occasion was a celebration of the works of Romare Bearden, a legendary black artist of the Harlem Renaissance.

“I was really excited to be connected with that in any way,” Cables said. “I played mostly my compositions. I thought of them as little portraits, little miniature paintings, and a couple of then related directly to some of his work. I consider music like painting with sound.”

Cables’ next release has already been recorded. Still untitled, it is a tribute to the music associated with tenor sax giant Dexter Gordon, including “Three O’Clock in the Morning,” “Body and Soul,” and “I Told You So,” a Cables composition that Gordon recorded. The recording also features Rufus Reid on bass and Lewis on drums. Cables worked with the saxophonist from 1977 to 1979, and all three are Gordon alumni.

“Dexter Gordon is the embodiment of jazz,” Cables said, with increasing enthusiasm. “Everything about Dexter is jazz, jazz as a state of mind, a lifestyle, a way of being. Somebody once asked Salvador Dali if he did drugs, and he said, ‘Salvador Dali use drugs? Salvador Dali is drugs.' That’s the way it is with Dexter. Dexter Gordon is jazz.

“There is a joie de vivre in his playing, when he picked up the horn and started blowing into the instrument. It was something that had just come to life. I could look out at the audience on many nights, and I could see a glow coming from them. It’s hard to talk about the essence of a musician because it’s not so much his notes, not even intellectual content. It’s the essence of the music that really makes the person. Dexter was really a skilled musician in the way he would outline chords. He could go through several choruses and play different things. He had a great sense of humor when he played.

“He could quote different songs, like ‘I’m Popeye the sailor man!’ One thing that was important to him was that the musicians learn the words of a song. Then you know what the song is about, and you have an idea how to phrase it.

“Music, and the arts in general, have a lot of life lessons in them. I think it really helps you deal with life.”

Besides his stint with Gordon, Cables also performed and recorded with Art Blakey's Jazz Messengers, Sonny Rollins, Joe Henderson and Freddie Hubbard. Art Pepper called him his favorite pianist. With more than 20 recordings as a leader, Cables most recent releases are 2002’s “Shared Secrets” and 2003’s “Looking for the Light.”

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2005 Topeka Jazz Festival tickets still on sale

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Commentary

Jazz killers (egos and apathy)

By Butch Berman

I used to think that my hometown of Lincoln, Neb., suffered culturally more than most cities I’ve experienced live music in. Now, sad to say, I feel this ego-driven lack of enthusiasm has spread outside just the jazz-starved Midwest that we call home.

When the Berman Music Foundation first burst onto the scene here, I held high hopes that jazz might catch on, like the early Zoo Bar did for the blues. Instead, my idealistic dreams fell upon one obstacle after another. For who-knows-what reason, our local news media seemed to go out of their way to either ignore us and the incredible array of talent we offered. When I was a youngster, if an artist the status of, let’s say, the late Jaki Byard had performed here, it would have received front-page coverage for such a scholar to be in our midst, regardless if he or she was playing here. Just BEING here would warrant some recognition.

I know in the rock world, most local musicians would flock in droves to catch one of their heroes. It seemed like most of our resident jazz educators felt our “intrusion” threatened their little niches, rather than for jazz’ sake it would enhance our environment. You almost always see Ed Love, Bill Wimmer, John Carlini, John Scofield and Scott Vicroy at our gigs…but that’s about it. I truly thank these guys for following their ears, hearts and true passions for the gifts of music they’ve been given and supporting us and our artists. Where are the REST of you cats who call yourselves jazz educators but seldom show your faces? You can’t all be playing all of the time.

I’m pretty much over the sting of losing my booking position at our annual Jazz in June. Read my December Prez Sez column if you haven’t been tuned into that reality. We’re a non-profit organization bent on creating a service, educating and entertaining the masses. Too bad a few people with narrow minds can screw up a gift created to benefit our community.

Anyway, this diatribe comes on the heels of our last Berman Jazz Series concert held in Topeka, Kan., March 13. We presented a solo jazz piano concert with one of the greatest living musicians still performing, Mr. George Cables. For more than 40 years, he has played and recorded with the likes of Freddie Hubbard, Woody Shaw; Art Pepper and Dexter Gordon, to name a few. We advertised this show for months, but mustered fewer than 100 fans at the beautiful Topeka Performing Arts Center (TPAC).

With Kansas City, Mo., less than one hour away, I only saw one musician—master bassist and BMF consultant Gerald Spaits—in attendance. He had an evening gig back in KC, but wouldn’t have missed the opportunity to revel in and soak up the incredible inspiration that memorable afternoon for anything. Thank you, Gerald! I’m sure what you picked up that day hearing George must have carried over to your own performance that night. But where in the heck were all of the other super players in KC that day?

Even when Grace and I were in Chicago and New York City in the last two years, I noticed that attendance was WAY down from when I last visited between five and 10 years ago. Large venues like Lincoln Center do well, but most of the famed jazz clubs are hurting. I hate to say it, but if the jazz scene totally dies out someday, we the fans and, yes, you the musicians will probably be to blame.

It seems like music on-line and pay-for-view TV has really cut into our live music scene, yet we DO have choices. Wake up America and go out in droves to keep this great American tradition alive. Do it tonight, or this weekend…but just do it.  Think back to the last time you really got off to some special musician blowing his brains out for ya. If we don’t get off our duffs, we’ll only have their LPs and CDs to remember them by.

Yup, egos and apathy…the true jazz killers. Please don’t be a part of the problem…be a  part of the solution. I thank you for your time.

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Sutton to perform April shows in Brownville

By Tom Ineck

It came as a delicious surprise to learn in a recent news release from Telarc Jazz that the talented and strikingly attractive singer Tierney Sutton will perform a weekend engagement April 15-17 at the Brownville Concert Hall.

The Los Angeles-based vocalist will appear at the intimate venue at 7:30 p.m. Friday and Saturday and at 2 p.m. Sunday. Brownville, an historic southeast Nebraska river town, is just an hour's drive from Lincoln. In the past, I have made the trip for wonderful jazz concerts featuring saxophonist Bobby Watson, cornetist Warren Vache and KC pianist Joe Cartwright and for a solo piano recital by the famed Andre Watts. The hall's performance series frequently includes top-notch cabaret singers.

Sutton’s style is exquisitely subtle, eschewing flashy vocal pyrotechnics in favor of perfect intonation, gentle swing and the ability of the best cabaret chanteuse to tell a story. In that regard, she brings to mind June Christy, Julie London, Jo Stafford and Jeri Southern.

Sutton grew up in Milwaukee and attended Boston University and Wesleyan, where she received a degree in Russian language and literature. At Wesleyan, she became involved in singing jazz and after graduating attended Berklee School of Music in Boston for a few semesters, studying under saxophonist Jerry Bergonzi. In 1994 Sutton moved to Los Angeles, where she has become a fixture on the jazz scene, often leading her own group and singing with Buddy Childers and Dave MacKay. Sutton also teaches voice at the University of Southern California.

Her debut CD on Challenge Records, “Introducing Tierney Sutton,” was recorded in 1996 and released in 1998. Since then, she has further established a solid recording career with four excellent CDs on the Telarc label. ”Unsung Heroes” was issued in spring 2000, followed in 2001 by “Blue in Green,” a lovely tribute to pianist Bill Evans. “Something Cool,” a 2002 offering, emphasized her affinity to the “Misty Miss Christy,” whose mid-1950s rendition of the title track is a classic.

Just a year ago, Sutton released what may be her finest recording to date, an homage to Frank Sinatra called “Dancing in the Dark.” It certainly is her most ambitious project, with arrangements for full string orchestra occasionally enhancing the fine accompaniment of her longtime trio—pianist Christian Jacob, bassist Trey Henry and drummer Ray Brinker. Sutton manages to put her own stamp on these immortal tunes associated with Sinatra, including “Fly Me to the Moon,” “All the Way,” “I’ll Be Around,” “Emily,” “Only the Lonely” and “I Think of You.”

“There are lots of songs that almost no one records, like ‘I Think of You,’” Sutton says. “Although many of the songs that we chose were not big hits for Sinatra, in each case I felt his commitment to the song, either because he had recorded it more than once or because his version remains the standard.” 

Tickets for the Tierney Sutton concerts in Brownville range from just $13 to $20. The Brownville Concert Hall is at 126 Atlantic St. For more information and for tickets call (402) 825-3331 or visit www.brownvilleconcertseries.com.

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Hersch Ensemble does Walt Whitman

”I hear America singing, the varied carols I hear.” ~Walt Whitman

The 10-piece Fred Hersch Ensemble, including vocalists Kurt Elling and Kate McGarry, will perform excerpts from Walt Whitman’s “Leaves of Grass,” to music by Hersch on March 31 at the Lied Center for Performing Arts in Lincoln. It has been booked as part of a University of Nebraska-Lincoln symposium on Whitman’s famous collection of poems.

Over his 30-year career, pianist and composer Fred Hersch has established himself as a master in solo, duo, trio and quintet settings. For his third release on Palmetto Records, he departs radically from these forms with his biggest and most personal musical compositional statement to date, “Leaves of Grass.”

In “Leaves of Grass,” Hersch leads a 10-piece ensemble in a full-evening work that features vocalists Kurt Elling and Kate McGarry singing the words of Walt Whitman set to compositions by Hersch. The instrumental players are: Ralph Alessi, trumpet/flugelhorn; Mike Christianson, trombone; Bruce Williamson, clarinet/alto sax/bass clarinet; Tony Malaby, tenor sax; Erik Friedlander, cello; Drew Gress, bass; John Hollenbeck, drums/percussion; and Hersch on piano.

For the first time, Hersch found himself stepping away from the piano and letting words guide him in his composing. He explains:

“The complete Leaves of Grass is more than 600 pages. To distill and create a libretto from this life’s work of poems was a lengthy and personal process. In setting out to compose the music, I had no idea where these words would take me. But I followed my instincts and, away from the piano, I simply started to sing the poems. Over time, musical themes emerged – and I began to find internal rhythms as I lived with the subtleties of the words. Like Whitman, I tried not to limit myself, and when the words wanted to take me somewhere – stylistically, melodically, rhythmically and harmonically – I did my best to just get out of the way. “

Hersch thrives on challenging himself and, with Leaves of Grass, has surpassed his own reputation for artistic brilliance. That reputation won him the prestigious Guggenheim Memorial Fellowship in 2003, which he used to support the development of this defining and compelling project. As Hersch approaches his 50th year, we are left to ponder what other creative leaps he will make in the second half of his professional life.

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By Dr. Bruce H. Klauber

The late and great Steve Allen, originator of the "Tonight Show" format, was well known as a jazz fan, friend to jazz musicians and a pretty decent jazz pianist. Few remember that Allen really went out on the television limb in the mid-1950s by booking folks like Billie Holiday, Lenny Bruce, Art Tatum, Charlie Parker and many others. 

Talk-show host Johnny Carson, who died recently at the age of 79, will be remembered as the quintessential talk show host, comic and interviewer, but Carson also continued Steve Allen's legacy of using the power of television to further the cause of jazz.  An amateur drummer since childhood, Carson was more than a fan. He supported the music and the musicians publicly and privately.

As one rather spectacular example, it was Johnny Carson who helped jazz drummer Buddy Rich become a star again, at a time when a 50-year-old Buddy Rich and the concept of a big band were considered old hat. Carson opened up his program to Buddy and Buddy's new band, beginning around 1966, and helped garner an entire new audience of all ages for "Buddy Rich: caustic comic and world's greatest drummer." Rich always credited Johnny Carson for reviving his career, and as thanks, awarded Johnny with a brand new set of drums. Carson loved Buddy Rich as a person and worshipped him as a player. When I was in the midst, along with the principals of DCI Music Video and the estate of Buddy Rich, of writing and co-producing a video tribute to the great drummer, there was nothing Carson wouldn't do for us.

"The Tonight Show Starring Johnny Carson" was, of course, an entertainment program. Many jazz fans of a certain age used to constantly complain about the lack of prime time television exposure accorded jazz on programs like Carson's. I vividly recall the jazz purists' contention that Carson's conception of jazz was Dixielanders Al Hirt and Pete Fountain, entertaining players who were booked frequently. But few of us realized that, along side an appearance by Hirt or Fountain, would be  someone like jazz singer Joe Williams (booked more than 50 times) or Sarah Vaughan (booked more than 20 times).  

The other argument, in line with television's always-at-a-distance relationship to jazz, was that a program like Carson's only booked the most "popular" jazz players, i.e., Duke Ellington, Count Basie, Louis Armstrong, etc. Where were the likes of the more creative players like Dizzy Gillespie,  Max Roach, Miles Davis, Clark Terry, Freddie Hubbard and the Modern Jazz Quartet? For the record, let it be said that each and every one of these players made at least one "Tonight Show" appearance during Johnny Carson's tenure as host. Dizzy Gillespie was on at least a dozen times. Wynton Marsalis made his first television appearances at Johnny Carson's insistence. You can look it up. 

Carson's show was the last to feature what was called a "big band" as the house orchestra, with jazz as its common language. While players like Carl "Doc" Severinson and Tommy Newsome played the stooge on camera, the record will show that they were and are top, jazz-oriented players who staffed "The Tonight Show" orchestra with the greatest jazz musicians who ever lived, from Ed Shaughnessy and Grady Tate to Pete Condoli and Ernie Watts. Whether they were backing a comic, a vocal duo or Buddy Rich, they always swung. They're still on the road and still swinging under "Doc's" leadership and the driving drums of Ed Shaughnessy. 

Indeed, many viewers probably heard jazz for the very first time on the Carson show. But I doubt whether Johnny Carson himself ever thought he would be credited with these considerable contributions. The record, however, speaks for itself, and the careers of many jazz people would be considerably less were it not for him. The jazz world will miss him.

Dr. Bruce H. Klauber may be reached through his website devoted to the jazz drumming legends: www.jazzlegends.com.

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”Defining the blues is, ultimately, like defining the hot wind that stirs up dust devils in dry cotton patches. Like the wind, the blues simply exist.”

-- Michael Bane
 

By Mark Dalton

I had to think "The Healing Power of the Blues" through for awhile to really get my mind around the possibilities of this topic. Some concerns immediately jumped into my mind. I had an image of a bunch of well-groomed bourgeois Northwesterners in their Land's End duds and Birkenstocks, holding hands with their eyes closed at a genteel festival like Port Townsend (Washington), swaying gently back and forth while a 70-year-old "folk blues" performer does his rendition of "Amazing Grace." "Healing" like this in not a part of my understanding of the blues, and I don't believe you see it that way either.    

(Port Townsend is particularly on my mind due to a conversation I had last week with Pat "Guitar Slim" Chase, who had just had a long talk with Peter McCracken at Centrum, who claims to be in charge of bookings for the festival this year, who informed Pat that the "Blues in The Clubs" portion of the festival will now also be restricted to "acoustic blues," along with the festival performers at Fort Worden, thus effectively and completely turning the clock back to the 1950s, that safe and happy time—for folkies—before the Muddy Waters Blues Band literally electrified much of the Newport Folk Festival crowd for the first time with their famous 1960 performance... sigh...)

Notwithstanding the obvious power and intensity of black gospel music, we must never confuse this music, or Christian-based concepts of healing, with the blues. I get a little annoyed when local blues deejays start mixing up their shows with a little Five Blind Boys here, a little Mahalia Jackson there, and I would hate to see discussions about the “Healing Power of the Blues” get mired down in, or worse, co-opted by Christian ideas on the subject. The local “blues vespers” (Rev. Dave's in Tacoma, for example) are interesting events, and I've played in Rev. Dave's church myself, but it’s an uneasy mix, at best—the blues is not, repeat not, rooted in Christian ideals, nor does the healing power of the blues come from Christianity or any Christian diety, at least not as promulgated by the organized religions of today—quite the contrary.

The blues should not be seen as a primary way to bring people together to foster mutual understanding and sister/brotherhood in such a sense. I believe the blues does bring about healing, but not through "building community." The blues is a Gnostic discipline. That is, it brings about healing through knowledge and understanding, through direct individual engagement with and experience of both "real life" in a physical as well as a psychological sense, and a kind of transcendence or direct contact with the universe on a higher level of engagement than the day-to-day existence most of us are given to live.

The blues then, I think, brings about healing in several ways.  

Knowledge is one way. Blues artists tell life like it is. The blues can explain and point out the pitfalls of life to help people see them coming, or they can help identify what kind of a pit one has fallen into and offer some suggestions for how to climb out, if it is too late to stop! The joys and miseries of romantic and sexual relationships are discussed plainly and directly in the blues, which is one reason why middle-class white folks were drawn to this music back in the day, because we really didn't connect with many non-judgmental, plain-speaking artists of our own that would directly and plainly speak about these things.

Catharsis is another way the blues can heal. "Relationship crises" and the resultant anger and often violent feelings can be examined and exorcised through the blues. Tunes like John Lee Hooker's "Madman Blues" or Little Walter's "Boom Boom, Out Go the Lights" give vent to feelings that may be forbidden in polite society, but it can sure feel good to put such tunes on the stereo nice and loud when things go wrong. As Hooker might say, “It's in there, let it out!”    

Humor is, of course, a major source of healing in all modes of life, and the blues is filled with self-deprecating humor that reaches out to listeners and helps to restore a sense of balance and proportion. A song like Sonny Boy Williamson’s “One Way Out” (“ain’t but one way out, and I ain’t going out that door... because there’s a man down there, might be your man, I don’t know...”) can inject a measure of rueful humor into the kind of situation that can be notably unfunny.  (I’m waiting for some brave blueswoman to tackle a female version of this tune. I think it’s time!)

Transcendence is, as noted above, another way that the blues can reach out and help to heal wounded hearts. A song like Albert Collins’ “Fade Away,” for example, has a remarkable unity of intense lyrics (by his wife, Gwendolyn) with searing guitar and a great arrangement and band that seems to just reach down and lift the listener to higher ground. The blues played live by a master is much more powerful yet, and some performances (for me, one was a Freddie King show I saw in the early ‘70s) will stay with folks the rest of their lives. Kim Field tells a story about seeing James Cotton at the Eagles Auditorium in the ‘60s that forever changed his life. The blues can, and does do this for people.

Lastly, there’s another kind of healing that the blues has done, and continues to do today. I said the blues is not primarily about creating community, but what it has done is built bridges of understanding and mutual appreciation across some notable gaps between the races (not just black and white, but many different ethnic groups) and around the world—East Europeans in Poland, Hungary, Croatia, Slovakia, Russia, alienated kids in Japan. Struggling working people all over the globe hear, understand and respond to the message of the blues across all kinds of lines that ordinarily might divide us.

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To commemorate her 69^th birthday Oct. 1, actress and vocalist Julie Andrews made a special appearance at Manhattan’s Radio City Music Hall for the benefit of the AARP. One of the musical numbers she performed was “My Favorite Things,” from the legendary movie “The Sound of Music.” However, the lyrics of the song were deliberately changed for the entertainment of her “blue hair” audience. Here are the lyrics she sang:

“Maalox and nose drops and needles for knitting,

Walkers and handrails and new dental fittings,

Bundles of magazines tied up with strings,

These are a few of my favorite things.

Cadillacs and cataracts and hearing aids and glasses,

Polident and Fixodent and false teeth in glasses,

Pacemakers, golf carts and porches with swings,

These are a few of my favorite things.

When the pipes leak, when the bones creak, when the knees go bad,

I simply remember my favorite things,

And then I don’t feel so bad.

Hot tea and crumpets, and corn pads for bunions,

No spicy hot food or food cooked with onions,

Bathrobes and heat pads and hot meals they bring,

These are a few of my favorite things.

Back pains, confused brains, and no fear of sinnin’,

Thin bones and fractures and hair that is thinnin’,

And we won’t mention our short shrunken frames,

When we remember our favorite things.

When the joints ache, when the hips break, when the eyes grow dim,

Then I remember the great life I’ve had,

And then I don’t feel so bad."

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Editor's Note: The following exchange has been widely circulated on the Internet. We make no claims as to its authenticity. The premise is: What if Yogi Berra was asked to explain jazz?

Interviewer: Can you explain jazz?

Yogi: I can't, but I will. 90 percent of all jazz is half improvisation. The other half is the part people play while others are playing something they never played with anyone who played that part. So if you play the wrong part, it's right. If you play the right part, it might be right if you play it wrong enough. But if you play it too right, it's wrong.

Interviewer: I don't understand.

Yogi: Anyone who understands jazz knows that you can't understand it. It's too complicated. That's what's so simple about it.

Interviewer: Do you understand it?

Yogi: No. That's why I can explain it. If I understood it, I wouldn't know anything about it.

Interviewer: Are there any great jazz players alive today?

Yogi: No. All the great jazz players alive today are dead. Except for the ones that are still alive. But so many of them are dead, that the ones that are still alive are dying to be like the ones that are dead. Some would kill for it.

Interviewer: What is syncopation?

Yogi: That's when the note that you should hear now happens either before or after you hear it. In jazz, you don't hear notes when they happen because that would be some other type of music. Other types of music can be jazz, but only if they're the same as something different from those other kinds.

 Educator Bobby Watson gets recognition
 

Interviewer: Now I really don't understand.

Yogi: I haven't taught you enough for you to not understand jazz that well.

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