Lena Horne “Stormy Weather”

This is a record I imagine a lot of people having in their collections in the late 50s—it’s got a classy cover, a photo of Lena Horne spotlighted in the darkness, maybe next to a piano—what I’d imagine to be a studio photo replicating a concert setting, but I don’t know. She was a huge star—the liner notes on back talk about how she was a star of first name recognition, like Ella and Frank—and those two come to mind listening to this record of standards—as her singing is every bit as singular as theirs—though none of them sound remotely like each other. So I like to think about a time when this record was on the normal person’s turntable—it’s anything but a boring record. I wonder if younger people know her? I suppose when you say “Lena,” now, more people think of Lena Dunham. As familiar as she is, I know nothing about her really—she lived into her 90s, had a 70 year career, passed away 10 years ago. She was at some point married to Lennie Hayton, who was known to wear captain’s hats, and conducted the orchestra on this record. One wonders if they are an inspiration to the Captain & Tennille. This LP is beat to hell, yet it plays—and just takes me back to a time before I was born. The first song, “Tomorrow Mountain” (Duke Ellington/John Latouche) is spectacular—crazy lyrics—the first I’ve ever heard it. Some of my favorite songs are here, including “Summertime,” “Stormy Weather,” “I’ll Be Around,” and “Just One of Those Things.” All 11 songs are good—nothing bland here, actually—you can’t really call this easy listening—there’s nothing easy about it. It’s out there, it’s jazz, it’s art—even a little challenging. I guess I’m going to have to keep an eye out for other old Lena Horne records now—I’m certainly happy to open another door to the richness of the past.

Gil Evans “The British Orchestra”

Up until now, Gil Evans didn’t crack my top ten Evanses—somewhere behind Bill, Bob, Dale, Jeff, Robert, etc.—a formidable list, sausage or not—Monsieur Jeffrey being the one I’ve met, and my hero. Bob (the sausage king) not to be confused with Robert (The Kid Stays in the Picture). Dale, the only woman here, partner of Roy Rogers (see: “a Roy Rogers roast beef sandwich). Bill and Gil both played piano, were important collaborators with Miles Davis—of course it gets confusing if you’re just not a jazz enthusiast or record collector. I count myself as someone with an encyclopedic gap of knowledge about just about everything, jazz included. Though I’ve spent hours and hours listening to Bill Evans—never get tired of that stuff. Gil, however, I know nothing about—I picked up this record with my fingers, put it on. The label says: Mole Jazz, it’s a British pressing, recorded live, March 14, 1983. I could probably tell you where I was on that day—Kent, Ohio, Spindizzy Records—listing to the new shipment of British punk and new wave records, not liking much. I probably wouldn’t have given this much of a chance either, since the first track is pretty guitar heavy, and guitar jazz just put me off for the longest time. I’m still pretty much on the fence when it comes to electric guitar jazz. Maybe I’m on the fence with jazz in general. I’ll wake up every morning at 4 AM and turn on WKCR, and sometimes it’s jazz that I love, and other times I’ll be kind of blocking it out until I realize how much I hate it, at which time I’ll say: “Why would anyone play that on purpose?” I think what it comes down to is that in general I don’t like “jazz fusion”—it’s just not my thing. I know that’s a huge generalization, but there you go. Any time I hear an exception, I’ll be glad to point it out. I’ve listened to this record a few times now, and all this nonsense I’m writing is my way of not having to write anything biographical about Gil Evans (you can easily go elsewhere for that). And also not have to make any decision about this record. There are four long instrumental songs, all live with a large band. The second one, “Friday the 13^th,” is a Thelonious Monk number, and my favorite—probably because it sounds like a Thelonious Monk composition, and reminds me of him—not only my favorite jazz musician, but my favorite musician, ever. As far as the rest of it, there are moments I like, but entirely too much saxophone here, guitar there—so, the closer it sounds to noise (seemingly formless and chaotic) the more I like it, and the closer it gets to rock (the dreaded rock, the insipid), the less I like it.

Deodato “Prelude”

If you have ever seen Being There (1979) and can listen to this version of “Also Sprach Zarathustra” and not vividly relive that opening scene, you must be suffering from brain damage and maybe want to get that checked out. If you’ve never seen that movie, I’m envious of you, because you have a great movie experience ahead of you—though I suggest waiting, hopefully, for a theater screening of it somewhere (I say that about all great movies, though it might not be realistic). If you’ve never heard this particular Strauss piece of music—no, that’s not possible. Anyway, this is an excellent version, and takes up half of the first side. The rest of the record is just as good, too. Actually, I think I like the rest of the record, on a whole, better, since it’s not weighed down with Peter Sellers or space stations. Particularly “Carly & Carole,” a Deodato number—and really, all of it. There’s a little of everything—bossa nova, rock and funk, jazz and classical, flute and a lot of space. The entire side two sounds like the soundtrack for an imaginary TV show about me—or at least a heightened, idealized version of fictional me. It’s got a great album cover too—a fine use of glossy deep green—kind of timeless—it looks like it might have come out yesterday, but it was 1973—at which time there was an offer on the inside cover to buy a print of the cover photo for $19.95, which seems like a steal to me, even then. This record was huge, I guess, at the time, though I was too young for it. It’s on the CTI label, and as I’m not a jazz collector, haven’t seen it a lot, but I guess it’s the label of Creed Taylor who seems to have been a big connection of Brazilian music to the popular US jazz market—is that right? Also, I noticed it was recorded by Rudy Van Gelder, a very familiar name, but just what all did he do? I looked him up and, Danger Will Robinson, there’s another gaping rabbit-hole just waiting for you to stumble into.

I admit to knowing nothing about this Eumir Deodato, apart from what I’m reading right now—he’s Brazilian, bossa nova pianist, likes that electric piano sound—composer, producer, arranger— still alive—wow, it looks like he’s got about 40 records. I’m going to keep an eye out for them—probably some are hard to find. This one is probably the easy one. He was fairly young here—his picture is on the inside album cover—and I’d guess he didn’t have a lot of trouble with dating. But anyway, if any of the others are even half as good as this record, they’re worth picking up. It would be funny if he got to be a major obsession with me, and I keep getting Deodato records—then the name of this one would be frighteningly apt. Not really related—I used to drive a Honda Prelude from the Seventies—that was a good car. Prelude is like an introduction to something else, right? So naturally you think, this is a taste of what’s to come… so I thought it was an odd name for a car, like, Oh, you’re going to get a better car. And an odd name for an album—it makes you think this record is just part of a bigger work. Which I suppose, if you consider all his work to come, even if it didn’t sell as much as this one, is apt. I can’t say how his other work compares, but I’ll keep an eye out for those records.