Showing posts with label Billie Holiday. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Billie Holiday. Show all posts

Thursday, 17 July 2014

Billie Holiday

Behind me, Billie was on her last song. I picked up the refrain, humming a few bars. Her voice sounded different to me now. Beneath the layers of hurt, beneath the ragged laughter, I heard a willingness to endure. Endure- and make music that wasn't there before. Barack Obama


Perhaps the greatest jazz vocalist of all time.(Note that I didn't even use the word "female".) Such is Billie Holiday's stature in the world of jazz. Her voice was unmistakeable and her life was remarkably sad and event-filled. In today's world of here-today-gone-later-today talent, it's unlikely that we'll see her like again. She was a pioneer, a one-off.

My first exposure to Billie Holiday's music was probably through a quite memorable car advertisement than ran back in the early 90s. So distinctive was her voice that I can still conjure up the advertisement in question. (Some kudos then to the ad men but unfortunately for them I couldn't remember the brand!) One can only imagine the impact her voice had on ears of the listeners who first heard her back in the 1930s.. 

Her early life was, to say the least, chaotic and full of serious adversity. After a few years trying her luck in various clubs in New York in the late 20s and early 30s she was picked up by John Hammond and began her recording career with Benny Goodman. Her first recordings were fairly unremarkable but she eventually began to find her own distinct style and phrasing, the like of which had not been heard before. Goodman himself was to remark, "she was the first girl singer I'd come across who actually sang like an improvising jazz genius". Her first real hit was the song What A Little Moonlight Can Do recorded with Teddy Wilson's Orchestra. With accompaniment by Ben Webster, Roy Eldridge, Cozy Cole and Goodman it is real gem. 


It was at this time that she began her musical association with Lester Young who was to give her her lasting moniker "Lady Day". (Not to be outdone she called him "Prez".). This Year's Kisses is a fantastic example of the type of recordings the two were to make together at the end of the 30s. 



It was around this time that she was to record the haunting track Strange Fruit. Originally written as a poem by Abel Meeropol, it was a favourite at the integrated nightclub, Cafe Society in New York. A song about southern lynchings it is an ominously dark song that perfectly suited Holiday´s delivery.


Her star continued to ascend in the 1940's with a number of instantly recognisable hits. However her life was taking the opposite turn. She had frequent run-ins with the law and her drug habit was spiralling out of control. As was her voice. Some find her last recordings to be remarkably inferior to her earlier work. Others can find a lot of  soul and heartfelt emotion in her scratchy delivery. Her final album Lady In Satin, released in 1957, divides such opinon and is a controversial work. 

One of her most famous appearances was in the CBS special The Sound Of Jazz from 1957. Here is a simply stunning performance of Fine And Mellow with accompaniment from none other than Coleman Hawkins, Ben Webster; Gerry Mulligan, Vic Dickenson, Roy Eldridge and of course Lester Young. (Lester is the one sitting during this performance but he stands to give his solo. The way that Holiday looks at him would melt the the stoniest of hearts. All the more poignant as both were to pass away within two years of the recording.)

Monday, 16 September 2013

Harry "Sweets" Edison

"I don't know why I'm named Sweets. Lester Young gave me that name. I don't know why I deserve the name. No-one knows but him"  Harry "Sweets" Edison.



Whether Lester Young gave Harry Edison his moniker, possibly as a recognition of his disposition or the tone that he produced from his trumpet, the name is perfectly apt. Edison was by all accounts a man with a wry personality and a compendiary wit. The unique and identifiable sound that he got from his trumpet was in many ways a reflection of this personality. His playing was dictated by the maxim of, "It's not how many notes you play, it's how many you leave out."

Edison was an alumnus of the Count Basie Orchestra at its peak. He played with the band from 1938 to 1950 and was a disciple of the sound that was to be known as "Basie Economy". Like the leader of the band, he didn't need to play ten notes when one would suffice. Sweets had a very distinct, bluesy sound that other trumpeters would try and ultimately fail to imitate. His signature was a bluesy submachine gun-esque da dee da da da da da dee da.  Yet being part of the Basie setup he understood the importance of how a jazz record had to swing. A fine example would be the song "Sweets" performed by the Basie Orchestra in 1949. Check out the interplay between Basie and Edison. (The fine tenor solo is provided by George Auld.)

Sweets by Count Basie & His Orchestra on Grooveshark

After Basie broke up the orchestra in 1950 Edison relocated to the west coast and pretty much for the rest of his career became one of the most sought after session trumpeters in music. If you've ever heard a classic Frank Sinatra song from the mid 50's then you will have heard Sweets Edison. He worked with Ella Fitzgerald, Billie Holiday, Sarah Vaughan, Nat King Cole and the aforementioned Sinatra to name a few. He knew how to accompany a vocalist in a tasteful, restrained manner, yet his muted sound added an unmistakeable signature to the song. Check out Billie Holiday's "What A Little Moonlight Can Doas case in point.

What a Little Moonlight Can Do by Billie Holiday on Grooveshark

I think Miles Davis summed it up perfectly when he said, "Music is about style. Like if I were to play with Frank Sinatra, I would play the way he sings., or do something complementary to the way he sings. But I wouldn't go and play with Frank Sinatra at breakneck speed... So, the way you play behind a singer is like the way Harry "Sweets" Edison did with Frank. When Frank stopped singing, then Harry played. A little before and a little afterwards, but not over him; you never play over a singer. You play between"

It Happened in Monterey by Frank Sinatra on Grooveshark

It has been such a joy in listening to the solo albums that Sweets made in the late 50's to early 60's.  In my view his stripped down, sparse style can be compared in artistic terms with the works of Hemingway or Monet. He collaborated with a lot of big names in jazz and produced some fantastic albums. Whether it was swinging out, playing the blues or laying down a smoky ballad, Sweets could do it with aplomb. Here's Embraceable You from an album that he made with Ben Webster in 1962.