This diary was originally for the first half of the twentieth century. But the words "First Half" ended up being insufficient: so this is the first two-thirds. Some of the Coltrane and Miles Davis bits go into the 1960s.
So, don't panic if it brushes against some blues, gospel or soul, but doesn't hit what you need it to. The next part of my 1960s diary, with the Gospel, Soul and Blues will hit a lot of what I may miss here. Be patient for that! It'll come... so the borders are a little squishy. Hope you understand. But this stuff is great. And, please forgive me if this isn't complete--those decades contained so much great stuff, I'd never have gotten to sleep, if I hadn't stopped some time!
So with this diary here, it's not the 1960s, as in the psychedelic Beatles and later. It's the stuff from before that. You dig? The kind of music that sends you, and that is the most, Daddy-o, and you know it!
Blues:
Another DKos poster turned us on to Leadbelly. I'm sorry that I forgot who, or else I'd hat-tip. Plainly, you can hear this in all the early Led Zeppelin, and all that sort of thing, as I'm sure Robert Plant would attest. Nirvana and Kurt Cobain, not to be outdone, needed to get in on this action too.
Bessie Smith was pretty heavy. Early on, too. Much respect.
Robert Johnson is one of those musicians, like Jimi Hendrix, of whom so much has been said that you can't stand to add another word... yet you have to... again, much respect for the pioneers.
One Freddie King was to make his debut at the start of the 1960s, with this wonderful number. I mean, you can get drunk to this, can't you? Talk to me, New Yorkers. (I know, Freddie King was Chicago, but drinking is very New York.)
Willie Dixon was roundly considered one of the pillars of early ("early" being a relative term, with Bessie Smith giving us the stuff in the 1920s already) blues. Here he is with T-bone Walker on the guitar. Have a t-bone on me (mm...).
Muddy Waters is great. "I spell M...A...N..." Well--no shit! How else would you spell it? So, no surprise in this song. But it's great fun getting there. No wonder great voices like Paul Rodgers are still sending his work into the stratosphere. It took me a long time to appreciate the blues in the way that my British Invasion heroes did. But I got there...
How about Howlin' Wolf? Is he not good?
And Sonny Boy Williamson? I wonder if a young Stevie Wonder was watching...
Joni Mitchell once sang: W. C. Handy, I'm rich, and I'm fey... and I'm not familiar with what you played... but I get such strong impressions of your heyday... looking up and down old Beale Street...
Swing Jazz:
OK, I know that I'm on record as being supremely uninterested in some other manifestations of jazz. But SWING jazz? YES! Bring on more of that! Check this all out.
Charles Trenet was absolutely the best. Just the best. Did I mention he was the best?
Glenn Miller was a staple, back in the day. Makes me imagine the days when you could really live a life. You could make a living, without someone pulling the rug out from under you; you could go out for a good time, without... well, okay, I suppose there was a gang of cockblocking there in the 1940s, too... as my old boss said: "testosterone... what's up with that?"
Benny Goodman. Look at this amazing man, in 1985. I'm talking about half a century after he rocked our socks off with "Sing Sing Sing," he's still doing it as of 1985.
But what about Benny's coworker, Lionel Hampton? Oh, he was still doing it in 1989. Well, yeah, but... what about Lionel back in the day? Oh, yes... here's something... Oh, that's marvelous! But that's only drums. Anything of him on the vibraphone, back then? Well... sure! Here you go... 1960s, but hope you enjoy it...
Well, yeah, but... what about both of them together, Benny Goodman and Lionel Hampton? Isn't there anything of that? And you're not leaving out Gene Krupa on the drums, I'm sure? Are you? Are you? Oh, okay... so demanding! But I understand, it's just too good not to share... so here you go...
Other Jazz:
Ditto this here. Now THIS is the sort of jazz you'd put a fedora on and bring your "best girl" to go see, before threatening to give a guy one right in the kisser ('cos that's what us Man's Men used to call the little ladies, and what we'd call another guy's mug, mac. If it goes well with your gal, take her to see a Kirk Douglas picture). This, finally, is comfort jazz, for me. This is not "f*** the audience jazz," as I like to call it. This is Good. Give ear.
I'm fond of saying that Miles Davis ruined jazz. But before he went into this self-indulgent shit, that took you nowhere emotionally IMhereticalO, he did this wonderful thing here. And stuff like this here. No problem. (No need to flame: I can hear Miles himself saying "F*%^ Villagejonesy. B%*%$ass motherf%^*er." If he even knew my name, which he didn't.)
Louis Armstrong. I'm a Francophile, I admit it. I love France, I love French people, French culture, French cuisine (bien sur!), French everything. God bless Louis Armstrong. Just God bless him. For his version of this song. Here's another one by him, just to give you more of a taste. Louis Armstrong did some Swing, all right, but he did other things too.
Here's Louis Armstrong with another giant of jazz, Dizzy Gillespie.
John Coltrane gets a lot of respect. Let's try to see why. Maybe this will show us. Or maybe this will. Hm... is this bebop? It's not for me, I guess... God love me, this, too, just doesn't take me much of anywhere emotionally. But it is included with respect for those affected by it. That's many of you out there. Here's another that you might dig.
Tito Puente was an early Latin Jazz pioneer. Does this voice sound smooth, or not? And the MUSIC! Wow! That's giving you your money's worth (and far more, considering that the show probably cost you no more than a dollar back then, too).
Here's Damaso Perez Prado, pioneering some Mambo for us. Sounds great! Nice.
Early Rock and Roll and Soul:
Don't panic. I've got a lot of soul coming for you in the 1960s Part 2 diary, with Blues, Gospel and Soul. Sit tight. But for now, here is the beginning of all that wonderful stuff.
At the start of the 1960s, a certain Marvin Gaye announced that he didn't need the charm school that Berry Gordy's record company usually prescribed. What do you think about that? Are you charmed? Many were. Our English friend Dusty Springfield was, I bet.
We'll be hearing more from this label and this young man in the 1960s Part 2 Blues, Gospel and Soul diary.
Check out Ray Charles here. Whew.
Little Richard gave a jolt to musicians like the Beatles, of course. If there was a bigger influence on Lennon and McCartney, I'd like to know who it was.
Speaking of Rock and Roll, here's a little bit of it (forgive me, the term "Rock and Roll" was not firmly defined then, but hope this all qualifies):
Rockin' Robin?
Okay, okay, this one. Well the guitar solo IS awesome, still.
Okay, okay, this guy.
Buddy Holly, well--he was interesting enough to John Lennon, wasn't he? But I confess, I still think Santana really blew Buddy Holly's version right out of the water...
Let's see that dust fly with that broom! Or you ain't gonna rock and roll no more! Leiber and Stoller, ladies and gentlemen.
Chuck Berry was rather important.
So was Jerry Lee Lewis, I'm told.
But the great Les Paul should have the last word, I suppose; although he did have the last word, by having his name put on one of the two most famous guitars in the history of rock and roll. If you ever see the greatest bassist of our time, Victor Wootten, playing his Amazing Grace using harmonic notes, and you're wondering if he was the first ever to do that, just watch this here, with Les Paul and Mary Ford, and hear the amplified harmonic notes pioneered. (Though, of course, Victor Wootten is the first to do what he's done, quite the way he did it, you've got to admit. MANY Kudos to him.)
Crooners and Star Singers &c.:
Frankie. Before he died, my father mentioned that he saw Frank Sinatra at the Roxy Theatre, he thought it was, in New York City, in 1949, for fifty cents, and that a movie came with it. He said that he saw Frank, and that the next week, there was a line around the block, and that after that, you couldn't get in to save your life. Good old Dad. Was that strange, posting a Christmas song? Hey--well my Dad was called a "Christmas-lovin' Jew" by my cousin... I might just post one more, even.
What's that you say? You want more Rat Pack stuff? Don't blame you, pally. Dean Martin was one of them, I think. You get a bit of them in the Swingers soundtrack, I think.
Sammy Davis, Jr. was another Rat Pack alumnus. "I'm colored, Jewish and Puerto Rican. When I move into a neighborhood, I wipe it out!" But his dancing has to be mentioned. This is crazy. This is nothing less than an astounding feat of dancing. I wish I could match this.
Bing Crosby. I mean, I know, I know, the stories, he's not supposed to have been so kind... but listen to this song. Have you got a heart? You won't tell me this isn't beautiful, will you? And yes, I DO like Christmas, thank you...
Anyone who knows me knows that I love San Francisco as deeply as I love most people (and that ain't faint praise, either, because there are many people I love very deeply). We leave our heart with Tony Bennett.
And speaking of France, cities I love, and singers I love (should she go here, or under "Other Jazz"?), listen to this wonderful song, "I Love Paris," done by a wonderful, much-missed singer, Ella Fitzgerald.
How do you categorize Edith Piaf? Our dear songbird.
What about Billie Holliday? This was an historic song. Heavy. Scary. Tragic times. I'm glad we can celebrate her now. Tie-in with the above: she made her debut singing with Benny Goodman, on this song, Riffin' the Scotch, and another record.
Etta James was great. Janis Joplin, apparently, really wanted to be just like Etta James (Janis covered her song "Tell Mama" in a really incendiary way). I had a neat experience with the song "At Last": my band played it at Pete Escovedo's club in San Jose, when Pete had his anniversary. Pete and his wife danced to our music. We played "Tell Mama," too. The dressing room was like a shrine to his daughter, Sheila E (and rightly so, of course, considering what a great musician she is, too). The greatest club I've ever played in, very comfortable for a musician. Kudos to Pete!
This lady, Nina Simone, was one who captivated my idol, Peter Gabriel, back when he started out. Long live the musicians from the islands.
Nat King Cole sang a great classic here. Paper Moon.
And as long as we're going over pieces from the 1930s, and from the movie Paper Moon, here's another great one.
OK, another one. Keep Your Sunny Side Up.
Singin' in the Rain (you remember those Fred Astaire movies, right?).
Cole Porter was one of the great songwriters, for sure.
Vera Lynn. You'll forgive me a moment of chauvinism, but I love my motherland of England. Vera Lynn, you may just know from Pink Floyd's song, bringing a pang to the heart, and wondering aloud what's happened to us all. But, along with Churchill, Vera Lynn saw England through those darkest days of the Battle of Britain, God bless her. You can't stand it? You feel I'm being corny, Colonel Blimp-ish? Maybe. But listen to this, why don't you. Think of my mother's homeland, and the fact that I don't have a mother anymore, to reminisce about the place with. Think of someone you miss, and a place you miss, so dearly. Then tell me. "There's a prize we can win again/and together, somehow we will/there's a land of begin again/on the other side of the hill..."
The Comedian Harmonists were an interesting band, which the Nazis didn't quite know what to do with. They had Jewish members, but they were a bit too popular to suppress. Hey, I've got an idea! Oh... but sorry, my idea is too late. Their song "Wochenend und Sonnenschein," you'll recognize as having the same tune as "Happy Days are Here Again." I always snickered a bit at the German lyrics: "Weekend and Sunshine/and Then with You in the Woods, Alone..." Heh.
Marlene Dietrich left Nazi Germany, and was denigrated for it, as a traitor. I celebrate her unconditionally.
Here is a song my Dad loved. I put it on for him and his sister, before he died, and he sang it for his sister, my aunt, with a grin, "remember this one?": Den Siebenten Himmel der Liebe. God, how I miss him. I Love you, Dad.
EDITS: I posted this at 4:00 in the morning last night; today, I awoke thinking: "Sondheim, Rodgers and Hammerstein, Mancini, and Bacharach." I will be getting to a lot of Burt Bacharach in the Part 2 1960s diary, but nonetheless.
Henry Mancini is the greatest monger of "tee many martoonis" music ever. The Pink Panther (the film) was undeniably enriched by his great music for it. Here's some Mancini stuff in action (again, love that these great musicians were still doing it as late as the 1980s). But my favorite was always A Shot in the Dark.
Stephen Sondheim wasn't bad, either. My music teacher in college used Maria, from West Side Story, as an example of the "devil's note," which is what people called the flatted fifth (that's the note on the letter "i" in "Mar-i-a."). She mentioned the way that it gives you a disoriented, uncertain feeling, until the song comforts you by going to the natural fifth in the last syllable, which is the "a" in "Mar-i-a." My clear favorite by him, politically incorrect though it may be (unless we're doing a little, uh, empowering role-playing, but you have to wear the apron) was this one. Here's another great onefrom the same show.
Rodgers and Hammerstein were great. The Sound of Music, the King and I? This one, though, gives you another cultural artifact from the "man's man" era, shows what guys did to look tough, before they bellowed at each other from spandex biking shorts like they do today. Great song. And as long as we're going full-on politically incorrect, try this one. Still can't hear it without substituting "grey" for "man," per the commercial. One of my favorite bands, the Tubes, actually sings this song in concert these days, still.
Burt Bacharach's ancestors, I presume, came from the picturesque town of
Bacharach. I visited it, it's beautiful. Spend a night there one time, if you can. Don't worry, more Bacharach to come in part 2 of the 1960s diary; but here's a little taste, from an actor with a sense of 60s retro.
And great posters below suggested the following:
Basie! Can't believe I forgot Count Basie and Duke Ellington! Here's the former, and here's the latter. Listen to Basie and his crew blowing on this one. And this one is where I'd like to be. Why can't anyone do this anymore? Like Duke Ellington did. And did. And, gloriously, did.
Great suggestion for Django Reinhardt! Here's my favorite by him. What a great song.
That made me think of Emmet Ray, featured in one of my favorite Woody Allen movies (because it introduced us to the great, great Samantha Morton, long may she act). Unfortunately, not much Emmet Ray on Youtube, yet, but oh well.
/EDITS