Mule Walk by James P. Johnson (1)

Our favourite four-year-old mule is now walking again and we can’t think of any better way to celebrate than a modest tribute to the song that gives title to this blog.

By the spring of 1913, James P. Johnson was playing at the Jungles Casino, a cellar on 62nd Street, in the neighbourhood called The Jungles, the Negro section of Hell’s Kitchen and one of the toughest places in NY. The Jungles Casino was officially a dancing school called “Drake’s Dancing Class”, since it was very hard for coloured people to get a dance-hall license. 

He described the venue as “a cellar, without fixings. The furnace, coal, and ashes were still there behind a partition. The coal bin was handy for guests to stash their liquor in case the cops dropped in. There were dancing classes alright, but there were no teachers. The “pupils” danced sets, two-steps, waltzes, schottisches, and “The Metropolitan Glide”, a new step”.

JPJ played for those dances but, instead of playing straight, he broke into a rag in certain places and the younger dancers – mostly from Charleston, South Carolina, and other places in the South – screamed when he “got good to them with a bit of rag in the dance music now and then”, “hollering and screaming until they were cooked”.

That’s how Mule Walk was composed, as breakdown music for such wild and comical dance sets, the more solid and groovy the better. JPJ assimilated those old-country dance tunes and translated them into his own pianistic language, which would result in the foundation of stride piano. In this sense, Mule Walk, Gut Stomp and Carolina Shout, all of them composed in the same period, must be considered a prototype of the stride piano style. However, it is safe to assume that he must have played Mule Walk differently then and in his three recordings from the late 30s and early 40s.

Copyrighted on February 1940 by Bregman, Vocco & Conn, Mule Walk is a three-section composition in B flat with an infectious rhythm that perfectly suits JPJ’s energetic piano playing. Some ragtime player stated a few years ago that Mule Walk is “one of the most prominent examples of stride writing using minimal melodic elements and lots of rhythm”. But a seasoned listener will come to the conclusion that this is not a “primitive” composition, neither are any of JPJ’s performances of the tune. His playing is always enhanced by a fine sense of dynamics and a crystal-clear touch that always draw a melodic quality from the piano, and yet his extraordinary technique and conception in no way inhibit feeling. 

Every stride piano player may have a different composition considered as “the most difficult one” but, unquestionably, Mule Walk is one of the toughest. But, in Mike Lipskin’s words, “the big challenge is probably not so much a particular piece, but how to work within the style, keeping it fresh, inventive and how to maintain a left hand smoothness and relaxation”. A stellar example would be JPJ's Blue Note recording of Mule Walk.

Regarding improvisation on Mule Walk and other stride chestnuts, Grant Simpson comments that “the vehicles I use to solo on are usually standards. When it comes to Carolina Shout or Mule Walk, I find it incredibly difficult to take that tune as only a "frame work" to work within. I can do it as an exercise, but would never want to perform it that way. It's not that I can't, but for some reason it doesn't "feel right" or "sound right" to me. Probably because, when improvising, we are left with two basic choices: harmonic or melodic. I think JPJ dealt with this if you listen to his versions of said Carolina Shout and then listen to If Dreams Come True. I believe the difference is that Carolina Shout, Mule Walk or Keep Off The Gras are primarily harmonically structured. Their ingredients are primarily chordal in structure - even the melodies. When you try to truly improvise on those, you are somewhat restricted to staying within that structure or the piece no longer stays in true stride tradition. When I began to bare down on stride as the fundamental foundation of my playing, I had to change the way I improvised on some tunes. Not standards in which I still keep stride components happening, but the right hand solos are basically clarinet type of lines.”

Mike Lipskin - Stride Piano Styles

Stride piano master Mike Lipskin's new CD, "Stride Piano Styles" (Buskirk Productions) is now available directly from Mike's website or from CD Baby.

Here's the track list (piano solos unless otherwise indicated):

1. Yesterday (John Lennon – Paul McCartney) 4:15
2. Where Are You? (Harold Adamson – Jimmy McHugh) 5:00
3. Sweetie Dear (Joe Jordan) 4:20
4. Snowy Morning Blues (James P. Johnson) 5:14
5. When Sunny Gets Blue (Jack Segal – Marvin Fisher) 4:46
6. Blue Room (Richard Rodgers – Lorenz Hart ) 3:37
7. It Takes a Little More to Score (Mike Lipskin) 2:29.
8. Lover (Richard Rodgers – Lorenz Hart) 3:36
9. Isn't It a Lovely Day (Irving Berlin) 3:37
10. Keep Smoking That Cigar (Mike Lipskin) 3:20
11. Willow Weep for Me (Ann Ronell) 3:07

with Ruby Braff, cornet; George Barnes, Wayne Wright, guitars:

12. Wrap Your Troubles in Dreams (Ted Koehler – Billy Moll) 2:50
13. If I Could Be With You One Hour Tonight (Johnson – Creamer) 4:17
14. S’Wonderful (George and Ira Gershwin ) 3:39

James P. Johnson - WWI and WWII Draft Registration Cards

As part of my project to publish as much documentation on the early stride piano masters as possible -and therefore to make it available for future research-, these are James P. Johnson's Registration Cards for both the First and the Second World Wars, dated June 5, 1917 and April 27, 1942, when James P. was 23 and 48 years old.

The Lion at Hampton, 1968

Willie The Lion Smith's 20-minute performance at the Hampton Jazz Festival (Hampton, VA) on Jun 27, 1968, is now available at Wolfgang's Vault. Signing up and logging in -which costs nothing- is required to listen to The Lion roaring, though payment is necessary for a download.

From the concert summary at Wolfgang's Vault:

"After chatting for a while, Smith opens this Hampton Jazz Festival performance with his infectious theme song, "Relaxin'". Next up is the autobiographical vocal number "Music on My Mind", which also happens to be the title of his memoirs published in 1964. The Lion then leaps into the tongue-twisting swing-era vocal number, "Nagasaki", and closes out his set with a medley of instrumentals, beginning with James P. Johnson's "Charleston" and continuing with Fats Waller's "Ain't Misbehavin'", Luckey Roberts' "Moonlight Cocktail", Duke Ellington's "Satin Doll" and "Sophisticated Lady", and culminating with his own show-stopping number, "Finger Buster"."

Lion, it catches up with you!

"The last time I saw my old friend [James P. Johnson], he was in a coma. For two weeks he hadn't spoken to anybody. I thought to myself: Old Fats, the Gemini; James P., the Aquarius; and Willie, Sagittarius. There was an old piano in the room and I sat down. I played the "Carolina Shout". It was his tune, his piano selection, and I played it like he played it. It was stride piano, guys playing with two hands. Then Jimmy opened his eyes and smiled. He managed to write out a message. LION, it said, THEY WERE TOO GOOD TO THE PIANO PLAYERS WITH ALL THAT FREE BOOZE AND RICH FOOD. IT CATCHES UP WITH YOU."

From Willie The Lion Smith's Music On My Mind autobiography.

Battling the Jersey Rocket

Regarding my post on Willie The Lion Smith, Eubie Blake and Donald Lambert playing at the 1960 Newport Jazz Festival, superb stride pianist Mike Lipskin, who was Eubie's and The Lion's protégé, has written in the Stride Piano Yahoo group:

"The many times I was with Eubie at home, recording a 10 hours interview for the Rutgers Jazz Institute, he would often praise some pianist, and always do so about James P. Johnson, but just as often would talk of others and not praise them. I never heard him go overboard about Jelly Roll Morton or Scott Joplin as pianists, though he liked their compositions.

He loved Luckey Roberts and respected him very much. They were close friends. However, he once commented with a laugh that Luckey "ruined the voice of many singers" by not modulating if their range was in another key, but simply playing down or up one octave.

When he and Willie the Lion were on the bill with Donald Lambert at the Newport Jazz Festival, Lambert performed before they did. Eubie said to Willie "How the hell are we going to follow him?""

That's how even such stride/ragtime masters were scared of battling the Jersey Rocket!

James P. Johnson transcriptions

Paul Marcorelles has just published a book with transcriptions of 17 original piano solos by James P. Johnson. It is available from this website, both on paper and as a pdf file.

It includes classics like "Carolina Shout", "Keep Off The Grass", "Mule Walk Stomp" (does it ring any bell?) or "The Harlem Strut".

Paul Marcorelles had previously published three books with transcriptions of Fats Waller and Willie The Lion Smith piano solos, to be found here, here and here.

Fats Waller interview (NYTimes, July 25, 1943)

Murray Schumach interviewed Fats Waller after one of the “Early To Bed” performances at the Broadhurst Theatre in New York, and the results were published in the NYTimes (July 25, 1943), just a few months before his passing (December 15). I haven’t found any reference to this interview in the thoroughly researched and high regarded Fats Waller bible, Laurie Wright’s Fats In Fact (Storyville Publications, 1992), but it is mentioned and partially reproduced in Maurice Waller’s biography of his father (co-authored with Anthony Calabrese), called simply Fats Waller (Schirmer Books, 1977).

There are several highlights, one of them being Schumach’s description of Fats Waller’s performance of “Tea For Two” as arranged by Art Tatum. It has such a photographic quality that you can easily imagine the black and white picture:

“There was an unreal quality to the music, like something in an opium den. It was soft, liquid and lingering, the rhythm slow and subtle. Intricate runs fluttered around the melody. Fats was hunched slightly, cigarette almost touching his chin and the smoke drifting lazily past half-closed eyes. He seemed to have forgotten the handful of listeners”.

Fats Waller doesn’t fail to point out two of his strong pronouncements: his reverent respect and admiration for Art Tatum and his disdain for boogie-woogie:

“That Tatum, he was just too good (…). He had too much technique. When that man turns on the powerhouse don’t no one play him down. He sounds like a brass band.”

“That’s music [referring to Tatum’s arrangement of “Tea For Two”]. Subdued and blatant. None of this boogie-woogie stuff that’s just monotonous. Boogie-woogie is all right if you want to beat your brains out for five minutes. But for more than that you got to have melody. Jimmy Johnson taught me that. You got to hang onto the melody and never let it get boresome.”

More on Tatum's and Waller's mutual admiration soon!

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Murray Schumach entrevistó a Fats Waller después de una de las representaciones de “Early To Bed” en el teatro Broadhurst de Nueva York. El resultado se publicó en el New York Times de 25 de julio de 1943, unos pocos meses antes de su muerte, el 15 de diciembre. No he encontrado ninguna referencia a esta entrevista en la “biblia” de Fats Waller, Fats In Fact de Laurie Wright (Storyville Publications, 1992), pero sí se menciona y se transcribe parcialmente en la biografía de Maurice Waller (hijo de Fats) y Anthony Calíbrese, llamada sencillamente Fats Waller y publicada por Schirmer Books en 1977.

Hay algunos momentos notables. Uno de ellos es la descripción que hace Schumach de la interpretación de “Tea For Two” por Fats Waller, según el arreglo de Art Tatum. Hay una cualidad casi fotográfica en esa descripción; te puedes imaginar fácilmente la fotografía en blanco y negro:

“La música tenía una cualidad casi irreal, como si estuvieras en un fumadero de opio. Era suave, clara y persistente, con un ritmo lento y sutil. Complejas frases revoloteaban alrededor de la melodía. Fats estaba ligeramente encogido, con el cigarrillo casi tocándole la barbilla y el humo flotando con pereza alrededor de los ojos medio cerrados. Parecía haberse olvidado del puñado de oyentes.”

Fats Waller no deja de señalar dos de sus más marcadas opiniones: su admiración y respeto casi reverente por Art Tatum y su desprecio por el boogie-woogie:

“Ese Tatum es demasiado bueno. Tiene demasiada técnica. Cuando ese tío se pone a máxima potencia, nadie puede batirle. Suena como una banda al completo."

“Eso sí que es música [refiriéndose al arreglo que hizo Tatum de “Tea For Two”]. Contenida y a la vez descarada. Nada de ese boogie-woogie, que es sencillamente monótono. El boogie-woogie está bien si quieres machacarte el cerebro durante cinco minutos. Pero a partir de ahí, necesitas tener una melodía. Eso me lo enseñó Jimmy Johnson. Tienes que aferrarte a la melodía y no dejar nunca que se vuelva aburrida.”

¡Pronto habrá más sobre la mutua admiración entre Tatum y Waller!

The Lion, The Lamb & Eubie Blake at Newport '60

In the 1960 Newport Jazz Festival, boisterous spectators created a major disturbance, and 12,000 college students were finally tamed by the state police, National Guard and the U.S. Marines. Poet Langston Hughes, with the strong conviction that the disturbances would mean the end of the festival, wrote an impromptu lyric, "Goodbye Newport Blues," that he brought to the Muddy Waters band onstage, where Waters pianist Otis Spann sang it:

I got to keep up singing
Though I got the Newport blues . . .
Those sad, bad Goodbye Newport blues

In this crowdy and tumultuous environment, the performance of ragtime and stride pianists like Eubie Blake, Donald Lambert or Willie The Lion Smith could be seen like nothing more than an anachronism.

But, despite the poor image and sound quality and the strange feet fetishism of the camera man, we must be thankful for having these six videos, where we can watch, for example, Donald Lambert playing his amazing arrangement of Grieg’s “Anitra’s Dance”, with an artistic level at least as high as his famous January 30, 1941 Bluebird recording, or The Lamb and Eubie Blake playing together on James P. Johnson’s “The Charleston”. This is the only recorded duet between Lambert and anyone else (he apparently did some duet work with Paul Seminole in the 1920's, but no recordings survive) and it gets so good near the end that surprisingly the audience clamors for more (MORE!) and of course they have to do a few more choruses, this time with the Danny Barker group joining in.

Otherwise, aural evidence confirms that these "Liza" and "Anitra's Dance" performances by Donald Lambert are those included in the Storyville CD Donald Lambert - Recorded 1959-1961 (Storyville 101 8376). Storyville is incorrectly listing those tracks as being recorded on July 7, 1960, when the Lamb appearance at the Newport Jazz Festival was positively on July 1, 1960 (check the New York Times review from July 2, 1960).

Louis Mazetier & Rossano Sportiello video

Here's a joyful and technically amazing performance by two of the greatest stride pianists nowadays, Louis Mazetier from France and Rossano Sportiello from Italy, recorded on December 16, 2007 at the Alte Kirche in Boswil (Switzerland) as part of the Swing Piano Summit II.

Piano duets are not an easy game to play, and much less in the sonically overpopulated world of stride piano, but Louis and Rossano do succeed in their mission and, in fact, they win by a large amount of goals. One of the multiple pleasures of this video is having the chance to watch Mazetier's left hand striding over more than two octaves in some passages.

Willie The Lion Smith transcriptions

Paul Marcorelles has just published a book with transcriptions of 15 original piano solos by Willie The Lion Smith. It is available from this website, both on paper and as a pdf file.

-"Concentrating", "Sneakaway", "Echoes Of Spring", "Finger Buster", "Fading Star", "Rippling Waters", "Stormy Weather", "I'll Follow You" and "What Is There To Say?" are taken from the famous January 10, 1939 Commodore session.

-"Passionnette" and "Morning Air" are reportedly taken from a 1937 recording, but in fact I think these two pieces are taken from the January 10, 1938 Decca session, as I haven't found a recording of these two tunes from 1937 in any of my discographies.

-"Here Comes The Band", "Cuttin' Out", "Portrait Of The Duke" and "Zig Zag" are taken from 1949 sessions, probably the Royal Jazz/Vogue sessions from December 24, 1949 (for "Cuttin' Out") and December 1, 1949 (for the other three).

Paul Marcorelles had previously published two books with transcriptions of Fats Waller piano solos, to be found here and here.

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Paul Marcorelles acaba de publicar un libro con transcripciones de quince solos de piano de Willie The Lion Smith. Se puede adquirir en esta web, tanto en papel como en formato pdf.

-Las transcripciones de "Concentrating", "Sneakaway", "Echoes Of Spring", "Finger Buster", "Fading Star", "Rippling Waters", "Stormy Weather", "I'll Follow You" y "What Is There To Say" están sacadas de la famosa sesión para el sello Commodore de 10 de enero de 1939.

-"Passionnette" y "Morning Air", según señala el autor, están sacadas de una grabación de 1937, pero creo que más bien se refiere a la sesión de 10 de enero de 1938 para el sello Decca, puesto que no he encontrado ninguna grabación de esos dos temas del año 1937 en ninguna de mis discografías.

-"Here Comes The Band", "Cuttin' Out", "Portrait Of The Duke" y "Zig Zag" están sacadas de grabaciones de 1949, probablemente de las sesiones para Royal Jazz/Vogue de 24 de diciembre ("Cuttin' Out") y 1 de diciembre (las otras tres).

Paul Margorelles había publicado previamente dos libros de transcripciones de solos de piano de Fats Waller (volumen 1 y volumen 2).

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 (...)."

Joe Turner - Pianists in my life (1/3)

In 1952, jazz piano authority Johnny Simmen sat with stride master Joe Turner and got this very graphic recapitulation of his career and the great pianists he met. These memoirs were originally published in an European jazz periodical, and have appeared, excerpted, as liner notes on the LP Stride By Stride (77 Records, LA 12/32) and in their complete form, but divided in two parts, on the Solo Art CD reissue of the 77 Records LP, Stride By Stride, Volume 1 (Solo Art SACD-106) and its subsequent follow-up Still Stridin’ Along, Volume 2 (Solo Art SACD-116). I can strongly recommend both CDs, recorded live at the Cafe Africana, Zurich, as a magnificent example of what Joe Turner was doing by 1960.

This is the first installment of the complete text, which will come in three parts.

"I was born November 3, 1907 in Baltimore, Maryland. At the age of five my mother taught me piano (ear training) and then, after awhile, I improved alone. When I was twelve I took music lessons for six months. My very first teacher, a women, was a "clock-watcher" which I didn`t like. I paid her 75 cents an hour. The week after, I took lessons from a new teacher, a Mrs. Alma J. Thomas, wife of A. Jack Thomas, a well-known musical director in Baltimore. What I liked about Mrs. Thomas is that she was not a "clock-watcher," but really interested in my playing, even cracking my fingers with a ruler when I made mistakes. So, not too long after that I used to stand by the piano and say to my Aunt Katie, "I sure wish I could play like that," and then I started playing "shout piano," copying her, but without the benefit of the left hand. Gradually I made such progress in that style that people started considering me a good pianist. I entered into a piano contest one night (my first one, in fact; my latest one having taken place last August when the marvelous Ralph Sutton and I were taking turns at the piano in one unforgettable session.)

While we were waiting at the theatre to be called on stage, a tall, smooth-talking fellow by the name of Frank Johnson came up to me and said, “Kid, I want you and the rest of the fellows to do your best tonight because I’ll win the contest anyway. I know I can win, not even playing my best". I stomped with my "shout piano" through "Oh Baby, Don’t Say No, Say Maybe" and came in second. Frank Johnson won, as he had said, and I became very interested in him and asked him to teach me a few piano tricks. He agreed on the condition that I’d buy the music to the latest tunes and teach them to him because he couldn’t read. His style of playing was so similar to a good piano roll that you could not tell the difference. Frank was the first one, too, who mentioned the name of James P. Johnson to me, making clear that James P. was known, in fact, as the greatest jazz pianist in the world. That was in 1923.

I learned so rapidly from Frank’s teaching that the entire city of Baltimore was comparing me to him. That’s when he decided not to teach me any further because he did not wish to have that much competition. I take off my hat to him for being honest and plain spoken.

My interest in my left hand began when I heard Eddie Gibson of Baltimore, who had one of the greatest left hands I ever heard in my life. I would frequently visit his home and he’d play for hours with his left hand along and he was always complaining that his left hand must be brushed up!! This became boring to me at that time but I found out later that it was necessary to have a powerful left hand to play piano properly.

I copied numbers from James P. Johnson’s piano rolls such as "Harlem Strut" and the "Carolina Shout" and copied them so well that I was considered a sort of child wonder. After being encouraged to go to New York I considered it, and went. I arrived in New York City with only one dollar and twenty-five cents in my pocket, and a suitcase made of a carton. (I had told my Mother I had a job in NY, which explained my reason for not taking more money but in reality I had no job; I was just trying to make my luck in the big city). I asked the first person I met where I could find the colored section. I was told to take the E1 train to 130th Street in Harlem. There I asked where the musicians were hanging out. They told me that it was a placed called "The Comedy Club". Going there I had a drink, set my bag down and noticed that anyone who wished could play the piano. Realizing that none of the pianists who had performed before me had done anything special I walked over and started in. After a warm-up number I went into the "Harlem Strut" and then I went to the climax with “Carolina Shout”. When I had finished people swarmed around me and wanted to know where I came from. After I’d told them, someone in the crowd told me that the composer of the last two numbers I had just played was in the room: James P. Johnson! Of course, you can imagine how I felt! I must have impressed him however, since he left his table, came up to the piano and played the same two numbers as nobody in the world could! After it was over someone asked me if I wanted a job and of course I said “Yes” then asked “When do I start?”, at which point he replied “Right away, just come with me”.

I went with him to Baron (sic) Wilkins’ Club (most famous piano club in Harlem, all the best pianists having played there one time or another) where I met, for the first time, and played with, Hilton Jefferson, the great alto man. When the boss told me he could only pay thirty dollars a week I almost fainted because I had never made more than twelve dollars. I worked there for a few months then joined the red hot band of trumpeter June Clark, who was a carbon copy of Louis Armstrong. June and Jimmy Harrison were known as the greatest brass team of that wonderful period. Jazz Carson, a fine drummer, completed our quartet.

During these first few months in NY I visited Clarence Williams’ office where I met one who I considered a truly great pianist, Eddie Blind Steele. This was also the time when we had the world’s most exciting piano contests night after night with the following pianists regularly present: James P., Willie The Lion Smith, Fats Waller and Joe Turner. Very rarely did other pianists dare to play. Of course, there were times when Stephen The Beetle Henderson was getting into the contest and he was demanding the greatest respect for his perfect left hand. Two others who would try their luck occasionally were Corky Williams and Willie Gant (...)."

Joe Turner on French TV (60s)

Stride pianist Joe Turner first visited Europe accompanying singer Adelaide Hall (1935-1936), and he stayed in the Continent until the beginning of World War II. During this period, he cut some records in Paris (among them one cannot forget his "specialty" arrangement of "Liza" for the French Ultraphone label, coupled with "Cheek To Cheek"), Bern or Prague. Reportedly, a private recording of Coleman Hawkins (on tenor sax, piano and vocals!) and Joe Turner does exist (Zurich, April 1936).

When Turner returned home, he joined Sy Oliver's service band at Camp Kilmer in New Jersey, then playing as a soloist in New York (1939-1943) or as part of Rex Stewart's orchestra.

By 1948, he came back to Europe for good, variously headquartered in Hungary, Czechoslovakia, Switzerland, London and Paris, where he was featured regularly from 1962 on at "La Calvados", a bar off the Champs Elysées. Here's where, according to Siegfried H. Mohr, on March 3, 1990, Ralph Sutton, François Rilhac and Louis Mazetier joined him in a truly memorable kind of Stride Piano Summit.

Here you have a few Dailymotion Joe Turner gems, from a rare French TV program from the Sixties, Jazz Session. The other featured musician on this program was Champion Jack Dupree.

Joe Turner - Keep Off The Grass (James P. Johnson)

Joe Turner - Cloud Fifteen (Joe Turner) / Carolina Shout Ç(James P. Johnson

Joe Turner - St. Louis Blues (W.C. Handy)

Jelly Roll Morton & The Lion: Finger Buster vs The Finger Breaker

In his memoirs, Willie The Lion Smith recalls the story of a mythical cutting contest between him and Jelly Roll Morton in the early thirties:

“Some people used to put me on by asking whether jazz was born in New Orleans and whether or not Jelly Roll invented it. I said once that was one of the worst things I ever heard. What I meant was that most of the jazz I knew was, in the beginning, from the brickyards. And another thing, jazz comes from the person’s soul and not from a state. But Jelly Roll was a guy who always talked a lot.

He used to be around the Rhythm Club every day and stand out on the corner and he used to bull and con all those fellows. He had his twenty-dollar gold piece on and he’d stand out there with a bankroll, meaning money, so every time I’d come around, almost all the guys who used to play piano kept quiet. Sometimes I’d lay for Fats and Jimmy [James P. Johnson]. Sometimes I’d even lay for Tatum. But I used to come around especially on Friday and Saturday looking for Jelly. I went around this one Friday and he was standing on the corner."

“Look, Mr. One-Hand,” I said, “let’s go inside and let me give you your lessons in cutting.” So Jelly and I would go inside by the piano. I was the only one he would stand and listen to and then he didn’t open his mouth. I must have played nearly everything you could name and when I got through, I said, “Well, Jelly, you’ll keep quiet now.” And, true as I’m sitting here, Jelly would be quiet.”

In “Willie the Lion”, a documentary produced and directed by Marc Fields, Willie recalls the encounter in a slightly different way:

“Well, I knew Jelly Roll well. I think I was the one of the few who did know him… He was a character. Quite a talker, he had a habit of tearing people apart. I challenged him in the Hoofer’s Club, in the Rhythm Club, I got him before nearly 300 musicians and I said “You call the terms and I’ll call them on the piano, and I’m gonna make you remember piano as long as you live”. And I could.”

After that, whenever anybody referred to Jelly Roll Morton, the Lion would say, “Oh, you mean Mr. One-Hand”, noting the supremacy of the “two-fisted” (as they used to call themselves) Harlem piano players. In fact, in New Orleans and Chicago, Morton was generally known that he could cut people, but when he went to New York, the New York pianists really intimidated him, and Willie did.

In that era of house rent parties and cutting contests, every tickler used to have a challenge piece to defeat the competition. For a time, Willie The Lion Smith had “Finger Buster”, a piece that, in Dick Hyman’s words “was clearly throwing down the gauntlet, so that no amateurs would dare to compete the mighty Lion as he strode into a place.”

“Finger Buster” was composed (in F) by The Lion in 1934 and recorded that same year, but this first version remained unissued for many years. The first 32 bars of this piece were written at Clarence Williams’ office while the Lion was doing technique exercises, and The Lion said he invented it by playing around with a scale as fast and as loud as he could.

As pianist Tom Roberts describes in the liner notes for his own disc “In The Lion’s Den” (Stomp Off Records CD 1392), “the most remarkable section of the tune is the second strain. Here the left hand plays a beautiful descending counter line simultaneously with a variation on the Charleston rhythm while the right hand plays a figure in contrary motion. Rhythmically, tension is created by the juxtaposition of right hand figures in 3 against the left hand in 4. At the end of the 2nd strain, as well as the coda of the entire piece, he strays far away from the conventional chords associated with the key and creates one of his most magical musical moments”.

The definitive solo recording of this piece came in the famous January 10, 1939 session for Commodore (where he cut 14 wonderful piano solos) and was issued on Commodore 522 coupled with “Rippling Waters”.


In the Jazz Man recording session from December 1938, that took place at the Rialto Theater Building in Washington, Jelly Roll Morton cut five sides, one of them being a piano solo piece called “Finger Buster” (matrix number MLB-145) issued on Jazz Man JM 12, coupled with “Creepy Feeling”. “Finger Buster” contains a mighty left hand that thunders up and down the octaves, while the right hand flies with a torrent of arpeggios and trills. Everything goes at super fast speed (metronomique speed rises up to 304) and in the last part pianist Morten Gunnar Larsen sees “a conscious caricature of stride piano technique”. In November 1942 the name of the tune was changed to “The Finger Breaker”, when Roy Carew made a copyright application to the Library of Congress. Morton had not bothered to do so himself, on the assumption that his amazing, breakneck, bravura piano piece would deter all competitions. Other sources state that the piece was called “The Finger Breaker” from the start and that I got mislabeled in the Jazz Man 78 rpm disc.

Anyway, through the years, Willie The Lion Smith’s “Finger Buster” and Jelly Roll Morton’s “Finger Buster/The Finger Breaker”, which are certainly different pieces, have been mistaken in liner notes and discographical notes from quite a few reissues. A different matter is Leonard Feather’s assertion, in the liner notes for Dick Hyman’s Columbia LP with the music of Jelly Roll Morton, that Morton’s “The Finger Breaker” was his only real piece of "stride" piano. As pianist Butch Thompson told us in the Stride Piano List a few years ago, “it isn't stride piano and doesn't sound like it. It sounds like Morton playing fast, but nothing like James P. or any of the others. Morton's right hand riffs are not characteristic stride figures and the left hand bass notes are an octave higher than you would expect from a fully fledged stride player. Morton was his own man.”

Stride piano, according to Dick Wellstood

"I would like to say, first, that I don't like the term "stride" any more than I like the term "jazz". When I was a kid the old-timers used to call stride piano "shout piano", an agreeably expressive description, and when once I mentioned stride to Eubie Blake, he replied, "My God, what won't they call ragtime next?" Terms, terms. Terms make music into a bundle of objects - a box of stride, a pound of Baroque -. [Donald] Lambert played music, not "stride", just as Bach wrote music, not "Baroque". Musicians make music, which critics later label, as if to fit it into so many jelly jars. Bastards.

Having demurred thus, may I say that stride is indeed a sort of ragtime, looser than Joplin's "classic rag", but sharing with it the marchlike structures and oom-pah bass. Conventional wisdom has it that striding is largely a matter of playing a heavy oom-pah in the left hand, but conventional wisdom is mistaken, as usual. Franz Liszt, Scott Joplin, Jelly Roll Morton, Earl Hines, Teddy Wilson, Erroll Garner and Pauline Alpert all monger a good many oom-pahs, and, whatever their other many virtues, none of them play stride.

To begin with, stride playing requires a certain characteristic rhythmic articulation, for the nature of which I can only refer you to recordings by such as Eubie Blake, Luckey Roberts, James P. Johnson, Fats Waller, Willie "The Lion" Smith and Donald Lambert. The feel of stride is a kind of soft-shoe 12/8 rather than the 8/8 of ragtime, and though the left hand plays oom-pahs, the total feeling is frequently an accented four-beat rather than the two-beat you might expect. For instance, the drummer Jo Jones once told me that when Basie played stride he would play a soft four on his bass drum, accenting, however, the first and third beats. This would be perfect. A straight four is too confining; a simple two makes you seasick. At any rate, the characteristic rhythms of stride are provided by the right hand, not the left. It is possible to play an otherwise impeccable stride bass and ruin it by playing inappropiate right hand patterns. By pulling and tugging at the rhythms of the left, the right hand provides the swing.

Now, if the right hand is to be able to do this, the left hand must be, not only quasi-metronomic, but also totally in charge. The propulsion, what musicians nowadays call the "time", must always be in the left hand. This is what Eubie Blake means when he says, "The left hand is very important in ragtime". To a non-performer, the lefthand dominance probably seems either unimportant or self-evident, but it is the crux of a successful stride performance. If, in the heat of the battle, the time switches to the right hand (because perhaps of a series of heavily accented figures), leaving the left hand merely to wag, then the momentum goes out of the window. The left hand must always be the boss and leave the right hand free to use whatever vocalized inflections the player desieres.

Stride bass is not just any old oom-pah, either. The bass note, the "oom", should be in the register of the string bass, a full two octaves or more below middle C - an octave or so lower than was used by Joplin or Morton. And the "pah" chord is usually voiced around middle C - one or two inversions higher than Joplin or Morton (here, as elsewhere, I'm referring strictly to [Donald] Lambert-style fast stride and am also generalizing wildly, of course). Moreover, the bass note is ideally a single note, not an octave, except in certain emphatic passages. The use of an octave would shorten the stretch between bass note and chord, and it is this wide stretch that gives stride its full sound. The wide stretch means that the player can activate the overtones of the piano by pedalling technicques unusable by Joplin or Morton, the denser texture of whose playing would have been unbearably muddied by the sophisticated pedalling of, say, Waller.

Stride bass lines move in scalar patterns, too. Ragtime stuck largely to roots and fifths, with most of the scalar motion in the tenor parts but stride pianists, having more room in the bass, can walk up and down scales in a way that is very difficult in the shorter span of the earlier pianists.

One can also use in the left hand what pianists called in my youth "back beats", where one disrupts the rhythm temporarily by playing oom-pah, oom-pah, oom-oom-pah, oom-pah, oom-oom-pah, and so on. With luck it comes out even, without sounding like one of Leonard Bernstein's early works.

To stride is to have patience, not to be in a hurry to get things over with. Lambert could play pieces in which the melody would allow a harmonic change perhaps only every four bars, requiring his left hand to pump patiently away for what seems like hours. And the late Ben Webster was an ardent stride pianist, whose pet piece was a version of "East Side, West Side" in long meter with lots of left hand, to with: (East!)-oom-pah, oom-pah, (Side!)-pah, oom-pah, oom-pah, oom-pah, (West!)-pah, oom-pah, oom-pah, oom-pah, (Side!)-pah, oom-pah, oom-pah, oom-pah, and so on, ad infinitum, ad wolgast. Fantastic patience!

If all this sounds rather difficult and complicated, you may be sure that it is. In a world full of pianists who can rattle off fast oom-pahs or Chick Corea solo transcriptions or the Elliot Carter Sonata, there are perhaps only a dozen who can play stride convincingly at any length and with the proper energy (...)"

Dick Wellstood [liner notes from "Donald Lambert - Recorded 1959-1961" on Storyville]

(bold letters are mine, intelligent and acid sense of humour is Wellstood's)

James P. Johnson, The Father Of Stride Piano

Here's where it all began...

... or very nearly...