Rossano Sportiello new CDs aka Where's the stride piano?

Our faithful readers should be aware that two new CDs by Italian pianist Rossano Sportiello were released in the last months of 2009.

Do It Again (Arbors ARCD 19387) is his second duet disc with Australian bassist and vocalist Nicki Parrott. Those who listened to the previous one, People Will Say We're In Love (Arbors ARCD 19335, 2007) will know what to expect: virtuoso performances and astounding ability to read the other musician's mind, this is, pure chemistry. But this time they've gone one step further, within a context of more stylistically varied tunes: bop, classical, show tunes, standards and ballads. A few surprises are waiting to be discovered, such as the crispy rendition of Tommy Flanagan's "Sea Changes", the suggestive title tune, "Do It Again", the fragile rendition of Ellington's "Fleurette Africaine" or the vocal duet, "Two Sleepy People".

It Amazes Me (Sackville SKCD2-3072) starts with a focus on ballads and slow tempos, showing how Sportiello has matured as a pianist, and allowing him to showcase his elegant touch, full of nuances, his flowing lyricism and his intelligent use of space and silence. A couple of Barry Harris tunes (let's not forget Harris was one of his mentors) and "Dearest, You're The Nearest To My Heart" do turn the engine on, and the climax is built up at the end with "Chinatown My Chinatown", "When I Grow Too Old To Dream" and "Sleep", where a few choruses of shout piano are interspersed.

Both discs are stunningly beautiful and highly recommended.

Footnote:

Liner notes for Do It Again, written by Elliott Simon, show once again that certain jazz writers tend to confuse and mix up all early jazz piano styles. On "Of Foreign Lands And People", he states that "(...) in and exceedingly clever personal take on the theme he (Sportiello) stylistically shifts into a stride inspired variation that jolts the listener from innocence to adulthood and exposes stride's indebtnedness to classical and Sportiello's own debt to stride king Ralph Sutton" and on "Do It Again" he comments that "Nicki and Rossano use sultry understatement and a bit of stride piano styling to update this classic." Well, nice literature, but no hint of stride piano is included in neither of these performances. In the first one, after a straight exposition of Schumann's theme, Sportiello shifts up the tempo and immerses himself in a very swinging chorus, with his right hand gently jumping in an style very reminiscent of Teddy Wilson, and his left hand (and Parrott's bass) playing some "walking" patterns, that not even remotely reminds us of stride piano. And where on earth do you hear stride piano on "Do It Again", mister?

On the other hand, our commentator writes that, in "Liza", "Sportiello shows his respect for pianist Art Tatum and his own combination of speed and precision in adding his take to the repository of versions of this nugget", not mentioning stride at all. Oh boy, besides the two versions recorded by Tatum for Decca in 1934 (one in August and one in October), you should also listen to James P. Johnson's Asch recording in 1945 or any of the live recordings by Donald Lambert to discover where the stride choruses in Sportiello's version come from (yes, stride, this is the stride chestnut of the disc!). End of rant.

Monk on stride [1]

Although it is common knowledge that Thelonious Monk spent some time in the jam sessions that took place in James P. Johnson’s house in the late 1930s and that he often attended Donald Lambert’s gigs in the Harlem bop clubs in the late 1940s, neither Willie ‘The Lion’ Smith’s memoirs nor Scott E. Brown’s biography of James P. Johnson mention Monk being present in those friendly battles.

Willie ‘The Lion’ describes them vividly: “Sometimes we got carving battles going that would last for four or five hours. Here’s how these bashed worked: the Lion would pound the keys for a mess of choruses and then shout to the next in line, ‘Well, all right, take it from there’, and each tickler would take his turn, trying to improve on a melody…. We would embroider the melodies with our own original ideas and try to develop patterns that had more originality than those played before us. Sometimes it was just a question as to who could think up the most patterns within a given tune. It was pure improvisation”.

In the recently published Monk biography by Robin D. G. Kelley, Thelonious Monk: The Life And Times Of An American Original (Free Press, 2009), pianist Billy Taylor is quoted recounting his first encounter with Monk at one of those jam sessions in September of 1939. Clarence Profit was playing at a small club managed by a friend of his father, Billy Taylor, Sr., and Billy Taylor, after introducing himself to the manager, launched himself so proudly to play “Lullaby Of Rhythm”. “I thought I was really doing something” Taylor recalls. “The piano player kept looking at me funny and I didn’t realize it was Clarence Profit since I’d never seen him before. So here I am, playing his composition on his gig! Once I finished, Profit came to me and said, ‘Hey kid, that wasn’t bad. I have some friends that would like to hear you play’”.

They went to a brownstone on 140th just west of South Avenue, which happened to belong to James P. Johnson, the Father of the Stride Piano. “There’s some guys sitting around playing cards. He says ‘Hey fellas! I have a piano player here!’ They said, ‘Sit down, kid, and play something’”. Billy Taylor sat down and played “China Boy” in the Teddy Wilson style: “He was on my mind so I was doing my version of him. You know, my left hand doing this little thing? I got about sixteen bars in when one of these guys comes over and says ‘Hmmmmm, that’s nice. Let me try a little of that?’ He sits down and, man…! This guy has got a left hand that I didn’t believe! He was just like Waller. Turns out that everybody in the room was a piano player! I mean, these guys sat down one after another and just played! Nobody had to say anything. I just sat there and thought, ‘Oh, shit!’”.

“Turned out that one of the guys was Monk! It was the first time I ever heard him. But get this...! The other guys were Willie ‘The Lion’ Smith, a guy named ‘Gippy’, and James P. Johnson!” Willie ‘The Lion’ then called Monk over to the piano bench: “He said, ‘Play your thing, man’. And he sat down and played a standard, I believe it could have been “Tea For Two”. He was playing more like Art Tatum then. I think he really responded to the older musicians who told him to do his own thing”.

Monk told Billy Taylor that Willie ‘The Lion’ and those stride masters had shown him respect and had 'empowered' him to do his own thing, telling that “he could do it and that his thing is worth doing. It doesn’t sound like Tatum. It doesn’t sound like Willie ‘The Lion’. It doesn’t sound like anybody but Monk and this is what he wanted to do. He had the confidence. The way that he does those things is the way he wanted to do them”.

A version of this story was also published in Leslie Gourse’s biography of Thelonious Monk, Straight, No Chaser: The Life And Genius Of Thelonious Monk (Schirmer Books, 1998). According to Kelley, much of what Gourse wrote is made of the “fact” that James P. Johnson lived in Monk’s neighborhood. But, actually, he was not living there when Monk began playing music: in 1930, James P. lived in Queens on 108th Avenue [see my previous post: James P. Johnson in the US Census, 1930], and by the time Monk appears on the musical scene he was living in Harlem, at 267 West 140th Street.

A little Tatum-credo

A few weeks ago, while doing some research through the Afro-American archives (Baltimore edition), I came across an article by Franklyn Frank, published May 23, 1936, where Frank picks a sixteen-piece all-afroamerican jazz band and his choice for piano is Teddy Weatherford:

"Weatherford is the only person closing the door to young Teddy Wilson, who is way ahead of Earl Hines (...) and Art Tatum, who generally sounds as if he is using twenty fingers trying to play ten symphonies in five minutes".

This negative comment on Art Tatum prompted me to post a message in the Stride Piano Yahoo Group, asking for any other contemporary published sources (30's-40's) with such kind of humorous criticism on Tatum's overwhelming technique.

I got several replies from some respected pianists and critics, almost unanimously praising Tatum and, in one of them, George Croll wrote a succint but, in my opinion, very accurate description of Tatum's pianism, which he called his "little Tatum-credo". Under his permission, I'm reproducing it here:

"Talking about speed and virtuosity is missing the essence of Tatum completely. Of course most people, especially Tatum-novices, are overwhelmed or dumbfounded by Tatum's dexterity, but the wonder of Art Tatum is his tremendous musicality.

Some of his assets are:

- Unique "sound" and incredible touch: no one else had/has that "contact" to the keys that sounds like playing legato and staccato at the same time.

- "Inaudible" pedal work, if he used the pedal at all.

- Absolutely infallible time and great swing-feeling.

- Unique, new way of playing with voicings.

- Ability to "compose spontaneously" (highly complex, but always musical).

- Endless inventive talent concerning melodies.

... He just had the "complete package" like no one else!

Even with Tatum there are shortcomings, too:

- His often mentioned inability to comp/to submit in a group-context.

- Quite un-original repertoire.

- Sometimes lack of taste.

Nobody is perfect, even God Tatum!"

The Great Eight on tour

Let's take a glance at this mixed-bag all-star band touring Europe in 1983, doing an uptempo rendition of Charlie Shavers' "Undecided". Under the name of The Great Eight, you can have small pills of Teddy Wilson's swinging piano, Slam Stewart's vocalizing bass, Buddy Tate's powerful Texas-tenor tone and Tal Farlow's modern guitar style, all in the same plate.

During this European tour, this group was recorded at the Berlin Philharmonie on February 20, 1983 and a double LP was issued on Wim Wigt's Timeless label: Swingin' The Forties With The Great Eight (Timeless SPJ185/86). It has never been reissued on CD.

Billy Butterfield (tp), Johnny Mince (cl), Buddy Tate (ts), Red Norvo (vib), Teddy Wilson (p), Tal Farlow (g), Slam Stewart (b), Sam Woodyard (d).

Joe Turner - Pianists in my life (2/3)

Second part of "Joe Turner - Pianists In My Life" as told to Johnny Simmen.

"(...) Shortly after, I had a tour of the west with Adelaide Hall (as accompanist, together with the late Alex Hill, my good friend- in fact it was a piano duo), but before we left we had trouble with Alex, and Francis Carter, also a good pianist, joined us. Benny Carter told me that when I reached Toledo, Ohio, I should not play any piano because there was a blind boy there called Art Tatum and I would not be able to touch him. When the Adelaide Hall troupe finally reached Toledo, I asked where I could find Art and I was given the address of a buffet flat where he would appear every night at two o’clock, after his work. After finishing at the theatre at midnight I went there and waited for Art to arrive. In the meantime, I played some good stuff on the piano there and two girls sitting near the piano started an argument over my playing compared with Art’s. One girl said “He’ll wash Art away”, while the other was insisting “Just wait until Art gets here and you’ll see how he’ll cut this boy!”. Art Tatum arrived at two o’clock. He asked me if I was the Joe Turner who had made a reputation with a fine arrangement of “Liza”. I said that it was me and begged him to play piano for me. After he had refused to play before hearing me (and of course with Art I lost the argument) I played first “Dinah” for warming up and then my “Liza”. When I had finished Art said “Pretty good”, and I was offended, because everywhere else that I played “Liza” it was considered sensational and there was Art Tatum saying “pretty good”! After that, Art sat down and played “Three Little Words”. Three thousand words would have been an understatement!!! We became the greatest of friends after that. Art came to my home the next morning and even before I had left my bed I heard him in the parlor play my arrangement of “Liza” note for note. After hearing it only once the night before! By the way, he liked it so much that some time later he recorded it exactly as I played it.

When I left Toledo I took his name and address with intentions of bringing him to New York, to team with me, especially since we were having troubles with Francis Carter. But when we returned to New York the troubles switched over to me and left the act, although they wanted to get rid of Francis. Since he was the only one left who knew the act, they kept him. Being honest with everyone, I gave Adelaide Hall Art Tatum’s address and that’s how he came to New York. Many people believed until now that I played together with Art -unfortunately I did not. Although I was supposed to have done, because of so much explaining, I decided not to deny anyone's belief that I had (that’s something putting all the discographies upside-down!) So I declare: Francis Carter made “I’m In The Mood For Love” with me, not Art Tatum, and Francis Carter played in my place with Art Tatum.

Now to mention some more pianists who really gave me solid kicks in my life:

Lucky (sic) Roberts, Fats Waller, who was the best friend I ever had, Willie The Lion Smith -the most unpredictable pianist of all time because if Tatum played, if Fats played, if James P. played, if anyone in Harlem played, we could pretty well guess what their feature number would be- but, when The Lion roared you never knew what was coming. By the way, The Lion and I are always in correspondence, reminiscing about the old times and discussing events in the present day jazz world. We are still having fun together, in spite of The Lion roaring in New York while I’m beating it out all over Switzerland.

There is one other pianist whose genius I would like to have heard beside that of Art Tatum: Seminole (Abalabba). He was the greatest trick pianist I have ever heard. I have jammed together with him many times and I know quite well that he was one of the wonders of our time. It would have been wonderful to have heard two geniuses in a contest, but Tatum came to New York after Seminole had already died.

Many times I heard Jelly Roll Morton brag about the things he’d done for jazz and much to my amazement he would always prove every statement. This leaves us to the one fact about Jelly Roll. This is that the mere mention of the history of jazz without his name in capitals, is bunk. Teddy Wilson came to New York and played with Benny Carter’s orchestra at Connie’s Inn. He gave me no peace until I had taught him some of those smashing minor thirds that I had learned from James P. Johnson and Fats Waller. There is no doubt that Teddy Wilson is one of the cleanest technicians of our time.

Another name I cannot leave out is that of Donald Lambert who came often to New York from New Jersey, always looking for cutting contests. Believe me, when he finished throwing that left hand very few people had even a desire to walk past the piano, let alone play it!

Another old friend of mine who would stutter in his speech but never in his playing, and whose left hand is comparable to that of the Lion, James P., The Beetle and Kirby Walker, is Willie Gant. Willie would always get Kirby Walker and hunt for me because it seems that my left had worried him a bit so he decided between him and Kirby Walker they could give me all the troubles I needed because they both had (and have) dynamite lefts (...)."