Headliners for this year’s Detroit Jazz Festival, over Labor Day weekend, in Detroit’s Hart Park: Sonny Rollins, Wynton Marsalis Quintet, Pat Metheny Unity Band, Chick Corea and Gray Burton, Wayne Shorter Quartet, Joe Lovano, Art Blakey Tribute with Terence Blanchard, Lew Tabackin Quartet featuring Randy Brecker, Charles McPherson/Tom Harrell Quintet, Donald Harrison Quintet, Preservation Hall Jazz Band, Pancho Sanchez, Artuto O’Farrill Septet with Donald Harrison, Ellery Eskelin Trio, Kenny Garret Quartet, Louis Hayes Quaret.
Wow.
Headliners for this year’s Rhythm and Ribs Jazz and Blues Festival, on October 13 in the 18th and Vine district: Arturo Sandoval, Joe Louis Walker, Angie Stone.
Bleh.
This year we’ll see the third downsized festival since Rhythm and Ribs’s resurrection. And let’s recognize that last year, organizers staged an extraordinarily professional event. They expertly managed virtually every detail, from the staging of the music right down to the signage. It was marketed strongly. The vendors with whom I spoke were thrilled. I estimated crowd size at around 7000 for the day (as far as I know, no official numbers were announced), and most of them appeared thrilled, too.
The American Jazz Museum’s 2011 audit report, available on the Greater Kansas City Community Foundation website (download PDF here) covers the first revived festival, in 2010. Without breaking out details, it notes that 2010 was the first Rhythm and Ribs Festival ever to turn a profit. It seems reasonable to assume last year’s did, too.
But something is missing.
Museum officials two years back spoke of the 2010 event as a fresh start. After a year’s absence, in 2010 Rhythm and Ribs was back. It was downsized, out of Parade Park, into a more confined (and, presumably, more affordable) space between the American Jazz Museum and the Gregg Community Center, and with a more limited line-up. But that was just the start, officials said. The festival would grow from there.
Two years later, the festival shows no aspirations of growing.
The space is good, the right fit for the crowd the festival currently attracts.
But festival talent seems settled in a pattern of one good but not particularly major jazz headliner, one blues headliner, and one headliner with crossover appeal who presumably will be the one to draw a crowd.
That’s a pattern to bring about 7000 people into 18th and Vine for a day. That’s a pattern to maintain a day of profit and high profile for the American Jazz Museum. Both are solid goals.
But that’s a pattern, not a start. It’s not a pattern showing any confidence in jazz. It’s not a pattern showing any aspiration of building into a significant jazz festival.
And it’s largely not the American Jazz Museum’s fault.
Look at the Detroit Jazz Festival’s web site (here). Look at its history. That festival started in 1980 and received an endowment of ten million dollars in 2006. That’s why it can afford Rollins and Marsalis and Metheny and dozens more in 2012.
The Kansas City Jazz Festival in the 1980s grew not from a bunch of jazz fans, but from a civic organization of young professionals, with strong connections to Kansas City’s business and philanthropic communities, looking to make a contribution to the city.
That’s the support a jazz festival needs to grow beyond a well organized annual fundraiser. Lacking a ten million dollar benefactor, it requires the resources and stature which follow the civic community stepping forward and saying Kansas City needs and deserves something better.
I wrote after last year’s festival that it appeared the civic community had coalesced behind Rhythm and Ribs as Kansas City’s annual jazz event. Now, I’m dubious. Rather, some businesses are contributing to a fundraising day for the Jazz Museum in the guise of a festival.
Every one of us should support that.
But in its third year, Rhythm and Ribs appears to have settled into a comfort zone, and that zone includes no apparent aspirations to be anything more than a profitable day with a jazz guy, a blues guy and someone who will draw a bigger crowd than either the jazz guy or blues guy will draw.
Unquestionably, this city will support a major jazz event. The Kansas City Jazz Festival of the 1980s attracted tens of thousands of people over a weekend. It can happen again.
But it requires more than jazz fans. It requires an organization with strong business ties.
Or maybe there’s another answer.
Maybe an organization can build a jazz festival in Kansas City with the support of a company looking to bring its brand into this market with a major new venture, looking to garner civic support and acclaim, which can be sold on the benefit of attaching itself to a major community celebration.
The Kansas City Google Jazz Festival, anyone?
Monday, June 25, 2012
Monday, June 18, 2012
Urban Renewal and 18th and Vine
As early as the 1930s, Kansas City Realtor, the publication of the Kansas City Real Estate Board, decried the effects of blight on property values in the Central Business District. The federal Housing Acts of 1949 and 1954 supplied funding to identify blighted areas, acquire and clear the properties, then redevelop the areas with public housing. 1954’s Housing Act termed this process “urban renewal.”
Kansas City became so good at urban renewal that in 1958, Look magazine, in its article, City Honored for Face Lift, awarded us its Community Home Achievement Award, citing our redevelopment of slum areas. In 1959, the American Institute of Architects awarded the Kansas City chapter its Citation of Honor Award, at that time given in just 15 instances over 102 years, for its plan to revitalize downtown.
So just what was it we did so well?
18 urban renewal projects, starting with North Side (1953 - 1960, 6.6 acres, along Main Street between Sixth and Ninth Streets), continuing with Attucks (1955 - 1965, 54.2 acres, from Truman Road to 18th Street and Woodland to Brooklyn, displacing 478 black residents, 0 white residents and 85 businesses), and concluding with 12th and Vine (1969 - 1972, 33.1 acres, displacing 309 black residents, 19 white residents and 49 businesses).
In between, South Humboldt (1956 - 1965, 27.6 acres, displacing 28 black residents, 203 white residents and 66 businesses) and East Side (1958 - 1965, 58.3 acres, displacing 88 black residents, 582 white residents and 95 businesses) cleared land for construction of the downtown interstate highway loop.
And there were 13 other projects.
18th and Vine itself was not a part of any urban renewal project. Neither of the studies I reviewed suggest it was ever targeted. But the surrounding neighborhoods were decimated. Contiguous stretches of homes and businesses were torn down then bisected by interstates, insuring they could never return. The density of population needed to support a thriving business district, which 18th and Vine had been, scattered and has never returned.
But it’s difficult to say these were the wrong moves. One history of Kansas City describes the land cleared for the North Side project, along Main Street, as a “skid row.” And of the Attucks project, adjacent to 18th and Vine, the book says, “This area contained as bad a slum as any in the United States. Here some families lived without running water or toilets, and some of the buildings had dirt floors.”
A March, 1950 article in Holiday magazine declared, “Kansas City is marked by sharp physical contrasts. There are tenements only a few blocks from skyscrapers, the landscaped lands of elaborate homes face vacant lots cluttered with billboards, and there are shanties only a short distance outside the business district.”
It’s easy today to look back and ask why we tore down all the jazz clubs, why we destroyed, arguably, our most significant history.
We look back romantically today at the Reno Club, where Count Basie was discovered. It’s easy to mourn the history lost when looking now over the cracked pavement of the police station parking lot which replaced it. But saxophonist Buster Smith described the Reno Club as, “nothin’ but a hole in the wall. Just mediocre people mostly went in there. A lot of the prostitutes and hustlers and thugs hung out down there.”
Today, we decry tangible history no longer here. But at the time, urban renewal was clearing shanties and holes in the wall. Large swaths of population left and never returned. But many left for better conditions.
And in the mid-1950s, less than twenty years had passed since our most famous jazz musicians and the culture they helped build had moved on. It was too soon to recognize that the music, and barbecue and steaks, would define Kansas City forevermore.
Still, one resident, in the study from which many of the facts which open this post were quoted, looked back and noted:
“There had been semi-economic centers for black businesses that were around 12th Street, 18th Street, coming up Vine, say to 25th Street, because I remember Barker’s Market, Johnson’s Drug Store, and a cab company and a bunch of stuff like that. And all of the clientele was in walking distance, mainly because in the 1940s and early 1950s…people lived closer together. With urban renewal and people moving out, they lost their clientele.”
A look at population maps from 1950 and today make clear that 18th and Vine will not again be what it once was. Not in my lifetime, anyway. Right or wrong, not returning to what a district once was defines the heart of urban renewal.
But you can walk through the jazz district and see apartments and homes along 19th Street and along The Paseo, and more housing on Highland. You see a couple restaurants and a couple museums. You see modern offices. Yes, you still see some blight and you shouldn’t. But at the Mutual Musicians Foundation and at the facade of the Cherry Blossom, you can still touch jazz history.
I don’t know how the district builds beyond the groundwork. So far, nobody has figured that out. But, decades after urban renewal removed both slums and life, the groundwork is there for the area to grow into something better.
*****
Facts about urban renewal are quoted from the 2001 article, A City Without Slums: Urban Renewal, Public Housing and Downtown Revitalization in Kansas City Missouri. It can be read online here, or a PDF can be downloaded by clicking here. More illustrations and maps can be found in the 2009 thesis, Development at 18th and Vine: Understanding Problems and Formulating Strategies for the Future. A PDF can be downloaded by clicking here. The quote by Buster Smith is from the 1987 book, Goin' to Kansas City. Other facts come from the 1978 book, K.C.: A History of Kansas City, Missouri.
Kansas City became so good at urban renewal that in 1958, Look magazine, in its article, City Honored for Face Lift, awarded us its Community Home Achievement Award, citing our redevelopment of slum areas. In 1959, the American Institute of Architects awarded the Kansas City chapter its Citation of Honor Award, at that time given in just 15 instances over 102 years, for its plan to revitalize downtown.
So just what was it we did so well?
18 urban renewal projects, starting with North Side (1953 - 1960, 6.6 acres, along Main Street between Sixth and Ninth Streets), continuing with Attucks (1955 - 1965, 54.2 acres, from Truman Road to 18th Street and Woodland to Brooklyn, displacing 478 black residents, 0 white residents and 85 businesses), and concluding with 12th and Vine (1969 - 1972, 33.1 acres, displacing 309 black residents, 19 white residents and 49 businesses).
In between, South Humboldt (1956 - 1965, 27.6 acres, displacing 28 black residents, 203 white residents and 66 businesses) and East Side (1958 - 1965, 58.3 acres, displacing 88 black residents, 582 white residents and 95 businesses) cleared land for construction of the downtown interstate highway loop.
And there were 13 other projects.
18th and Vine itself was not a part of any urban renewal project. Neither of the studies I reviewed suggest it was ever targeted. But the surrounding neighborhoods were decimated. Contiguous stretches of homes and businesses were torn down then bisected by interstates, insuring they could never return. The density of population needed to support a thriving business district, which 18th and Vine had been, scattered and has never returned.
But it’s difficult to say these were the wrong moves. One history of Kansas City describes the land cleared for the North Side project, along Main Street, as a “skid row.” And of the Attucks project, adjacent to 18th and Vine, the book says, “This area contained as bad a slum as any in the United States. Here some families lived without running water or toilets, and some of the buildings had dirt floors.”
A March, 1950 article in Holiday magazine declared, “Kansas City is marked by sharp physical contrasts. There are tenements only a few blocks from skyscrapers, the landscaped lands of elaborate homes face vacant lots cluttered with billboards, and there are shanties only a short distance outside the business district.”
It’s easy today to look back and ask why we tore down all the jazz clubs, why we destroyed, arguably, our most significant history.
We look back romantically today at the Reno Club, where Count Basie was discovered. It’s easy to mourn the history lost when looking now over the cracked pavement of the police station parking lot which replaced it. But saxophonist Buster Smith described the Reno Club as, “nothin’ but a hole in the wall. Just mediocre people mostly went in there. A lot of the prostitutes and hustlers and thugs hung out down there.”
Today, we decry tangible history no longer here. But at the time, urban renewal was clearing shanties and holes in the wall. Large swaths of population left and never returned. But many left for better conditions.
And in the mid-1950s, less than twenty years had passed since our most famous jazz musicians and the culture they helped build had moved on. It was too soon to recognize that the music, and barbecue and steaks, would define Kansas City forevermore.
Still, one resident, in the study from which many of the facts which open this post were quoted, looked back and noted:
“There had been semi-economic centers for black businesses that were around 12th Street, 18th Street, coming up Vine, say to 25th Street, because I remember Barker’s Market, Johnson’s Drug Store, and a cab company and a bunch of stuff like that. And all of the clientele was in walking distance, mainly because in the 1940s and early 1950s…people lived closer together. With urban renewal and people moving out, they lost their clientele.”
A look at population maps from 1950 and today make clear that 18th and Vine will not again be what it once was. Not in my lifetime, anyway. Right or wrong, not returning to what a district once was defines the heart of urban renewal.
But you can walk through the jazz district and see apartments and homes along 19th Street and along The Paseo, and more housing on Highland. You see a couple restaurants and a couple museums. You see modern offices. Yes, you still see some blight and you shouldn’t. But at the Mutual Musicians Foundation and at the facade of the Cherry Blossom, you can still touch jazz history.
I don’t know how the district builds beyond the groundwork. So far, nobody has figured that out. But, decades after urban renewal removed both slums and life, the groundwork is there for the area to grow into something better.
*****
Facts about urban renewal are quoted from the 2001 article, A City Without Slums: Urban Renewal, Public Housing and Downtown Revitalization in Kansas City Missouri. It can be read online here, or a PDF can be downloaded by clicking here. More illustrations and maps can be found in the 2009 thesis, Development at 18th and Vine: Understanding Problems and Formulating Strategies for the Future. A PDF can be downloaded by clicking here. The quote by Buster Smith is from the 1987 book, Goin' to Kansas City. Other facts come from the 1978 book, K.C.: A History of Kansas City, Missouri.
Monday, June 11, 2012
The Dearth of Swing
In 1932, in Kansas City, Mary Lou Williams turned 22 years old. Lester Young and Ben Webster turned 23. Count Basie turned 28.
Led in part by Bennie Moten (who, in 1932, turned 38), they and other musicians developed a style of swing derived from 12-bar blues, with extended solos, backed by riffs, a unique music which secured Kansas City in jazz history.
When I first went to the Mutual Musicians Foundation, in the early 1980s, some of the masters who played the music at its height could be found there, still playing. Herman Walder had performed with Moten. Bill Saunders, Joe Thomas, Step-Buddy Anderson, “Piggy” Minor, Ben Kynard, Sam Johnson, Sr., were among the regulars who would sit across a table from you and describe what Kansas City once was.
Or, you could head over to 32nd and Main and let Milton Morris regale you with tales from the days when Kansas City peaked. If you were lucky, you might walk into Milton’s Tap Room on a Saturday afternoon when Count Basie was visiting.
Claude Williams’s and Jay McShann’s music epitomized Kansas City swing. But when “Fiddler” passed eight years ago, and “Hootie” six years ago, we lost our last geniuses with direct ties to Kansas City’s internationally renowned past, who could often be found playing around town. And with that direct influence gone, jazz in Kansas City has changed.
Pockets of Kansas City swing can still be found here. The Wild Women of Kansas City are wonderfully fun. The Kansas City Jazz Orchestra still plays the music though, between booking acts like the Four Freshmen and pricing the cheap seats at $40 next season (they were $25), the Orchestra appears to be targeting a limited audience.
Kansas City today is brimming with outstanding jazz musicians around the ages that Mary Lou Williams and Lester Young and Ben Webster and Count Basie were in the days they were exchanging musical ideas and developing Kansas City’s signature sound. But these young musicians are seeking their own voice and their own sound. And in many cases, lacking direct links to decades past, that voice is the antithesis of Kansas City jazz.
That’s not entirely bad and it’s not entirely good. Charlie Parker came out of Kansas City and, with musicians like Dizzy Gillespie, developed the voice of bebop. Miles Davis was constantly moving forward, absorbing the music around him and adding his own signature, eschewing what he had played before. Some of jazz’s best musicians thrive on constant growth.
And some Kansas City groups have shed this city’s signature jazz sound with resounding success. The People’s Liberation Big Band has reinvented big band music in Kansas City, its wit bringing accessibility to some way-out-there sounds.
But other groups showcasing original compositions perform with mixed results. At one recent show I attended, I endured during one number a sonic debacle. This may be part of the process of young musicians finding themselves. Or it may be young musicians demonstrating that, nope, the 21st century’s Lester Young – a player regaled for his tone, his unique style, his masterful and original solos – isn’t in this group.
I understand musicians wanting and needing to find their own place in jazz. I understand their absorbing the influences immediately surrounding them. That’s what a young Basie and Lester and Ben and Mary Lou did in creating Kansas City jazz. But I’m not a musician. I’m an enthusiast, a fan. And I also understand that playing the unfamiliar can lead to limited audiences. Matt Otto noted, in an article in Jazz Ambassador Magazine, that he needed to play more accessible tenor sax to support himself in Kansas City.
There’s the key. The music needs to be accessible. I’m not going to buy a painting that I don’t understand no matter how good the painting technique. Likewise, I’m not going to enjoy sitting through a performance if the music fails to draw me in. Some of Kansas City’s young musicians venture into originality at the sake of accessibility.
It surprises and disappoints me how quickly, our masters gone, that Kansas City jazz has largely abandoned its signature sound. I’m booking acts for this year’s Prairie Village Jazz Festival. The principal sponsor favored a more traditional Kansas City jazz sound, appropriate for the family audience this festival attracts. The purpose of this festival is not to force Prairie Village to understand something musically new. It’s to entertain up to 10,000 people, on blankets and lounge chairs, from a large stage. Much of what I hear today on Kansas City jazz stages does not fit that profile.
I was surprised at how difficult it was to fill the limited spots in the festival. Not every act booked fits the profile. And one musician agreed to play some more traditional jazz, because that’s what it took for his group to secure the booking. In Kansas City today, there’s a dearth of Kansas City swing.
Jay McShann performed in the 1986 Kansas City Jazz Festival with “Sweets” Edison, Buddy Tate, Al Grey, Gus Johnson and Major Holley. A recording exists of that concert. Not long before he passed, one of Jay’s daughters played the recording for him. She suggested he should put together a group like that one more time. He couldn’t, he told her, because everyone who could play like that was gone.
That’s not entirely true.
One of the best live music shows I’ve attended over the last year was Ernie Andrews at The Blue Room. There, Bobby Watson, known for more complex music with his group Horizon, swung like he’d played 18th and Vine in 1932 with Basie and Lester and Ben and Mary Lou.
I’m not suggesting that’s what musicians looking for their own voice should adopt.
But I will suggest music doesn’t get any more accessible than that.
Led in part by Bennie Moten (who, in 1932, turned 38), they and other musicians developed a style of swing derived from 12-bar blues, with extended solos, backed by riffs, a unique music which secured Kansas City in jazz history.
When I first went to the Mutual Musicians Foundation, in the early 1980s, some of the masters who played the music at its height could be found there, still playing. Herman Walder had performed with Moten. Bill Saunders, Joe Thomas, Step-Buddy Anderson, “Piggy” Minor, Ben Kynard, Sam Johnson, Sr., were among the regulars who would sit across a table from you and describe what Kansas City once was.
Or, you could head over to 32nd and Main and let Milton Morris regale you with tales from the days when Kansas City peaked. If you were lucky, you might walk into Milton’s Tap Room on a Saturday afternoon when Count Basie was visiting.
Claude Williams’s and Jay McShann’s music epitomized Kansas City swing. But when “Fiddler” passed eight years ago, and “Hootie” six years ago, we lost our last geniuses with direct ties to Kansas City’s internationally renowned past, who could often be found playing around town. And with that direct influence gone, jazz in Kansas City has changed.
Pockets of Kansas City swing can still be found here. The Wild Women of Kansas City are wonderfully fun. The Kansas City Jazz Orchestra still plays the music though, between booking acts like the Four Freshmen and pricing the cheap seats at $40 next season (they were $25), the Orchestra appears to be targeting a limited audience.
Kansas City today is brimming with outstanding jazz musicians around the ages that Mary Lou Williams and Lester Young and Ben Webster and Count Basie were in the days they were exchanging musical ideas and developing Kansas City’s signature sound. But these young musicians are seeking their own voice and their own sound. And in many cases, lacking direct links to decades past, that voice is the antithesis of Kansas City jazz.
That’s not entirely bad and it’s not entirely good. Charlie Parker came out of Kansas City and, with musicians like Dizzy Gillespie, developed the voice of bebop. Miles Davis was constantly moving forward, absorbing the music around him and adding his own signature, eschewing what he had played before. Some of jazz’s best musicians thrive on constant growth.
And some Kansas City groups have shed this city’s signature jazz sound with resounding success. The People’s Liberation Big Band has reinvented big band music in Kansas City, its wit bringing accessibility to some way-out-there sounds.
But other groups showcasing original compositions perform with mixed results. At one recent show I attended, I endured during one number a sonic debacle. This may be part of the process of young musicians finding themselves. Or it may be young musicians demonstrating that, nope, the 21st century’s Lester Young – a player regaled for his tone, his unique style, his masterful and original solos – isn’t in this group.
I understand musicians wanting and needing to find their own place in jazz. I understand their absorbing the influences immediately surrounding them. That’s what a young Basie and Lester and Ben and Mary Lou did in creating Kansas City jazz. But I’m not a musician. I’m an enthusiast, a fan. And I also understand that playing the unfamiliar can lead to limited audiences. Matt Otto noted, in an article in Jazz Ambassador Magazine, that he needed to play more accessible tenor sax to support himself in Kansas City.
There’s the key. The music needs to be accessible. I’m not going to buy a painting that I don’t understand no matter how good the painting technique. Likewise, I’m not going to enjoy sitting through a performance if the music fails to draw me in. Some of Kansas City’s young musicians venture into originality at the sake of accessibility.
It surprises and disappoints me how quickly, our masters gone, that Kansas City jazz has largely abandoned its signature sound. I’m booking acts for this year’s Prairie Village Jazz Festival. The principal sponsor favored a more traditional Kansas City jazz sound, appropriate for the family audience this festival attracts. The purpose of this festival is not to force Prairie Village to understand something musically new. It’s to entertain up to 10,000 people, on blankets and lounge chairs, from a large stage. Much of what I hear today on Kansas City jazz stages does not fit that profile.
I was surprised at how difficult it was to fill the limited spots in the festival. Not every act booked fits the profile. And one musician agreed to play some more traditional jazz, because that’s what it took for his group to secure the booking. In Kansas City today, there’s a dearth of Kansas City swing.
Jay McShann performed in the 1986 Kansas City Jazz Festival with “Sweets” Edison, Buddy Tate, Al Grey, Gus Johnson and Major Holley. A recording exists of that concert. Not long before he passed, one of Jay’s daughters played the recording for him. She suggested he should put together a group like that one more time. He couldn’t, he told her, because everyone who could play like that was gone.
That’s not entirely true.
One of the best live music shows I’ve attended over the last year was Ernie Andrews at The Blue Room. There, Bobby Watson, known for more complex music with his group Horizon, swung like he’d played 18th and Vine in 1932 with Basie and Lester and Ben and Mary Lou.
I’m not suggesting that’s what musicians looking for their own voice should adopt.
But I will suggest music doesn’t get any more accessible than that.
Monday, June 4, 2012
The Magic Jazz Fairy Screams
It had been there several times last year, its wings wrapped tight behind its back so nobody would recognize it. It wanted to be discreet, to enjoy jazz on the outdoor patio, nestled in The Plaza, and a drink on a warm summer evening.
Last summer the same singer and pianist played the patio each Wednesday evening, sometimes with guests. They promoted the shows on their Facebook pages, through some tweets, with occasional emails. Crowds filled the deck.
This year the restaurant has chosen to feature different jazz artists each week. The pianist and singer opened the season. The mystical being saw that on the pianist’s Facebook page. And a trumpeter would be playing later this month. That was in the trumpeter’s email newsletter. But who else would be there each week? The Magic Jazz Fairy needed to know, so it could spread the word.
Because, as we’ve established in previous posts, every city has a Magic Jazz Fairy who flies through town at night and whispers in the ears of sleeping jazz fans when and where to find the music, so we wake up knowing, just knowing. That must be the way jazz promotion works because, of course, small crowds couldn’t possibly be the fault of savvy restaurants and bars for not telling anyone they booked jazz.
But before it can spread the word to all of us sleeping jazz fans, the Magic Jazz Fairy needs to know the schedule. Surely this restaurant, with the outdoor patio nestled in The Plaza, this major restaurant, part of a nationwide chain, renowned for exquisite seafood, surely this restaurant has properly promoted their weekly jazz happy hour.
The Magic Jazz Fairy sat down at its computer and, with a quick Google search, found the restaurant’s website. Ah, a tab for Calendar. The mystical being clicked it. Up came this:
What? A blank screen? A page filled with black? It clicked back, then clicked the Calendar tab again. Again, a page of black.
How could that be, the Magic Jazz Fairy sputtered. How could the national restaurant with the patio nestled in The Plaza and exquisite seafood, how could that restaurant be promoting its weekly jazz event with a blank, black page?
Did that national restaurant want to know how to promote jazz? the Fairy thought aloud. Did it? Well, then, just look at this website, for a local downtown steakhouse with exquisite steak and jazz every night. Just look at their calendar. The mystical being clicked, and up came this:
There, see, the Magic Jazz Fairy harumphed. Look at it, and I can tell you that this weekend the jazz group there is...
The Magic Jazz Fairy looked. The calendar said, Live Jazz Band. Okay, I know that, the Fairy thought, but which jazz band? Who? The mystical being clicked a link. A window popped up which told him that playing at the downtown restaurant with exquisite steaks this Friday was...a live jazz band. It clicked Saturday’s link. Playing that night would be...a live jazz band.
Upset and annoyed, the Magic Jazz Fairy declared, “I’ll show you both. Look at this. Look at the calendar for this city’s premiere jazz club in the historic jazz district. Look at how easy it is to find who’s there this Saturday night.”
The mystical being clicked a link, and up came this:
It triumphantly turned to its computer and announced that there this Saturday night was...Saturday In The Blue Room. The Fairy looked again. The jazz club’s calendar described nothing more. It didn’t for half the month.
“What is going on?” the Magic Jazz Fairy yelled out. “How can I fly around town and tell every jazz fan while they sleep who is playing jazz so they wake up knowing, just knowing, if nobody announces who is playing jazz?”
Anger welled. Ever since a major jazz club closed last year, the music has been more difficult to find. It’s been up to the musicians, through Facebook posts and emails and whatever other communications they could muster with no budget or time, to tell fans where to find them. But too many post the day of the event, I’m here tonight. That’s not good enough. That doesn’t allow for planning. Besides, it forces Kansas City jazz fans to subscribe to the email or the tweets or the Facebook page of every musician they know to have any inkling of where to find them playing jazz.
Red glazed the Fairy’s eyes. It pounded its mystical fist on its desk once, twice. Besides, it maintained, the restaurant or club stands to gain the most through promotion, through more jazz fans showing up and buying food and drinks. It’s not unreasonable to expect a musician to announce a gig on Facebook. But marketing and promotion are responsibilities which lie heaviest on who gains most. Is it too much to expect more than a nebulous listing? Or a black page?
“No!” the being yelled. “Don’t complain that jazz draws nobody when you do nothing to tell anyone who's playing the jazz!”
“Knock, knock” cried the furious being, its wings flapping wildly.
“Who’s there?” answered a feeble voice in its head.
“The Magic Jazz Fairy!" it cried out, its feet off the ground.
“The Magic Jazz Fairy who?” queried the voice.
“The Magic Jazz Fairy who wants to poke your eyes out for promoting a fun weekly jazz event with a blank page!” the Magic Jazz Fairy screamed.
Enraged, the mystical being flew out a window. It needed a drink.
Or to poke somebody’s eyes out. Euphemistically, of course.
Last summer the same singer and pianist played the patio each Wednesday evening, sometimes with guests. They promoted the shows on their Facebook pages, through some tweets, with occasional emails. Crowds filled the deck.
This year the restaurant has chosen to feature different jazz artists each week. The pianist and singer opened the season. The mystical being saw that on the pianist’s Facebook page. And a trumpeter would be playing later this month. That was in the trumpeter’s email newsletter. But who else would be there each week? The Magic Jazz Fairy needed to know, so it could spread the word.
Because, as we’ve established in previous posts, every city has a Magic Jazz Fairy who flies through town at night and whispers in the ears of sleeping jazz fans when and where to find the music, so we wake up knowing, just knowing. That must be the way jazz promotion works because, of course, small crowds couldn’t possibly be the fault of savvy restaurants and bars for not telling anyone they booked jazz.
But before it can spread the word to all of us sleeping jazz fans, the Magic Jazz Fairy needs to know the schedule. Surely this restaurant, with the outdoor patio nestled in The Plaza, this major restaurant, part of a nationwide chain, renowned for exquisite seafood, surely this restaurant has properly promoted their weekly jazz happy hour.
The Magic Jazz Fairy sat down at its computer and, with a quick Google search, found the restaurant’s website. Ah, a tab for Calendar. The mystical being clicked it. Up came this:
What? A blank screen? A page filled with black? It clicked back, then clicked the Calendar tab again. Again, a page of black.
How could that be, the Magic Jazz Fairy sputtered. How could the national restaurant with the patio nestled in The Plaza and exquisite seafood, how could that restaurant be promoting its weekly jazz event with a blank, black page?
Did that national restaurant want to know how to promote jazz? the Fairy thought aloud. Did it? Well, then, just look at this website, for a local downtown steakhouse with exquisite steak and jazz every night. Just look at their calendar. The mystical being clicked, and up came this:
The Magic Jazz Fairy looked. The calendar said, Live Jazz Band. Okay, I know that, the Fairy thought, but which jazz band? Who? The mystical being clicked a link. A window popped up which told him that playing at the downtown restaurant with exquisite steaks this Friday was...a live jazz band. It clicked Saturday’s link. Playing that night would be...a live jazz band.
Upset and annoyed, the Magic Jazz Fairy declared, “I’ll show you both. Look at this. Look at the calendar for this city’s premiere jazz club in the historic jazz district. Look at how easy it is to find who’s there this Saturday night.”
The mystical being clicked a link, and up came this:
“What is going on?” the Magic Jazz Fairy yelled out. “How can I fly around town and tell every jazz fan while they sleep who is playing jazz so they wake up knowing, just knowing, if nobody announces who is playing jazz?”
Anger welled. Ever since a major jazz club closed last year, the music has been more difficult to find. It’s been up to the musicians, through Facebook posts and emails and whatever other communications they could muster with no budget or time, to tell fans where to find them. But too many post the day of the event, I’m here tonight. That’s not good enough. That doesn’t allow for planning. Besides, it forces Kansas City jazz fans to subscribe to the email or the tweets or the Facebook page of every musician they know to have any inkling of where to find them playing jazz.
Red glazed the Fairy’s eyes. It pounded its mystical fist on its desk once, twice. Besides, it maintained, the restaurant or club stands to gain the most through promotion, through more jazz fans showing up and buying food and drinks. It’s not unreasonable to expect a musician to announce a gig on Facebook. But marketing and promotion are responsibilities which lie heaviest on who gains most. Is it too much to expect more than a nebulous listing? Or a black page?
“No!” the being yelled. “Don’t complain that jazz draws nobody when you do nothing to tell anyone who's playing the jazz!”
“Knock, knock” cried the furious being, its wings flapping wildly.
“Who’s there?” answered a feeble voice in its head.
“The Magic Jazz Fairy!" it cried out, its feet off the ground.
“The Magic Jazz Fairy who?” queried the voice.
“The Magic Jazz Fairy who wants to poke your eyes out for promoting a fun weekly jazz event with a blank page!” the Magic Jazz Fairy screamed.
Enraged, the mystical being flew out a window. It needed a drink.
Or to poke somebody’s eyes out. Euphemistically, of course.
Monday, May 28, 2012
In Lieu of 1000 Words: The KC Sound Collective at The Blue Room
I’ve said it before: My rediscovery of Kansas City’s jazz scene, bursting with amazing young talent, inspired the start of this blog nearly three years back. So, when five of those exceptional musicians form a new group and release their first CD, you’ll find me at the release show.
With Hermon Mehari on trumpet, Steve Lambert on tenor sax and flute, Andrew Ouellette on piano, Dominique Sanders on bass and Brad Williams on drums, The KC Sound Collective brings together five of the best young jazz musicians in Kansas City. Their contemporary compositions and takes on more modern jazz standards draw an audience in during live performances.
Now The KC Sound Collective has released their first CD, In the Moment. The second CD release show was on the stage of The Blue Room last Thursday, May 24th. As the weather outside stormed, those of us in the club heard jazz from some of the musicians whose excellence is key to this music’s future.
The photos below show you how the evening looked. As always, clicking on one should open a larger version of it.
With Hermon Mehari on trumpet, Steve Lambert on tenor sax and flute, Andrew Ouellette on piano, Dominique Sanders on bass and Brad Williams on drums, The KC Sound Collective brings together five of the best young jazz musicians in Kansas City. Their contemporary compositions and takes on more modern jazz standards draw an audience in during live performances.
Now The KC Sound Collective has released their first CD, In the Moment. The second CD release show was on the stage of The Blue Room last Thursday, May 24th. As the weather outside stormed, those of us in the club heard jazz from some of the musicians whose excellence is key to this music’s future.
The photos below show you how the evening looked. As always, clicking on one should open a larger version of it.
The KC Sound Collective. Left to right: Andrew Ouellette on piano, Steve Lambert on tenor sax, Dominique Sanders on bass, Hermon Mehari on trumpet, Brad Williams on drums.
Trumpeter Hermon Mehari
Steve Lambert on tenor sax
Steve and Hermon
Bassist Dominique Sanders
Hermon on trumpet and, behind him, Dominique on bass
Pianist Andrew Ouellette
Steve, Dominique and Hermon
Drummer Brad Williams
The KC Sound Collective at The Blue Room
Monday, May 21, 2012
Chris Hazelton Trio and "Peregrination"
Chris Hazelton got me in trouble.
I was listening to his latest CD, Peregrination, at work, through headphones. I stopped, hearing the first cut, Harlem Groove. Then, I didn’t realize, I started swaying to the beat, moving one shoulder up, then down, then the next, listening to that swinging Hammond B-3 organ play. Then Danny’s solo flowed in and just intensified my concentration. All the while, Kevin’s beat kept the music moving perfectly.
Then someone tapped my shoulder and asked, “Are you okay?”
Sure I was okay, I thought. I was enjoying Chris Hazelton’s jazz organ, stepping right into the traditions set by Jimmy McGriff and Jimmy Smith, supplemented by Danny Embrey’s always intriguing and wonderful solos, and Kevin Frazee’s drums driving the tempo right. I was better than okay. I was enjoying this.
“You'll have that spreadsheet in a half hour,” I said.
Ever since Jimmy McGriff performed as the headliner who wasn’t rained out the year I presided over the Kansas City Jazz Festival, I’ve been a fan of the Hammond B-3. With Peregrination, whether on an updating of a Rogers and Hart classic, or on a ruminative ballad, or on an original by himself or Danny, Chris shows a masterful touch. And the interaction between himself and Danny regularly results in compelling lines tossed back and forth, organ to guitar to organ.
Peregrination can be purchased from Amazon here or downloaded from iTunes here. Or, better yet, catch this trio live this Friday at Take Five Coffee + Bar (151st and Nall) for their second CD release party, and pick up a copy there.
Their first CD release party was held last Thursday at The Blue Room, where about a hundred of us heard just how good this group sounds in person. Below is a glimpse at how it looked.
I was listening to his latest CD, Peregrination, at work, through headphones. I stopped, hearing the first cut, Harlem Groove. Then, I didn’t realize, I started swaying to the beat, moving one shoulder up, then down, then the next, listening to that swinging Hammond B-3 organ play. Then Danny’s solo flowed in and just intensified my concentration. All the while, Kevin’s beat kept the music moving perfectly.
Then someone tapped my shoulder and asked, “Are you okay?”
Sure I was okay, I thought. I was enjoying Chris Hazelton’s jazz organ, stepping right into the traditions set by Jimmy McGriff and Jimmy Smith, supplemented by Danny Embrey’s always intriguing and wonderful solos, and Kevin Frazee’s drums driving the tempo right. I was better than okay. I was enjoying this.
“You'll have that spreadsheet in a half hour,” I said.
Ever since Jimmy McGriff performed as the headliner who wasn’t rained out the year I presided over the Kansas City Jazz Festival, I’ve been a fan of the Hammond B-3. With Peregrination, whether on an updating of a Rogers and Hart classic, or on a ruminative ballad, or on an original by himself or Danny, Chris shows a masterful touch. And the interaction between himself and Danny regularly results in compelling lines tossed back and forth, organ to guitar to organ.
Peregrination can be purchased from Amazon here or downloaded from iTunes here. Or, better yet, catch this trio live this Friday at Take Five Coffee + Bar (151st and Nall) for their second CD release party, and pick up a copy there.
Their first CD release party was held last Thursday at The Blue Room, where about a hundred of us heard just how good this group sounds in person. Below is a glimpse at how it looked.
Chris Hazelton
Chris Hazelton Trio. Left to right: Chris on Hammond B-3 organ, Kevin Frazee on drums, Danny Embry on guitar
Danny Embry
Chris and, in the background, Danny
Kevin Frazee
Chris Hazelton Trio in The Blue Room
Chris and, in the background, Kevin
Monday, May 14, 2012
In Lieu of 1000 Words: Rich Wheeler Quartet at Take Five
This is one of Kansas City jazz’s best kept secrets.
Not among musicians. Musicians in town know all about Rich Wheeler. He’s in Alaturka, in the People’s Liberation Big Band, in Mark Southerland’s groups, in Brandon Draper’s groups. Musicians know Rich is one KC’s best on tenor sax.
But because he’s mostly played as a sideman, the public is less aware of his name. Many in an audience just ask, so who was that fantastic tenor player in the group tonight?
That’s why when Rich Wheeler fronts his own group – especially when it’s in Take Five Coffee + Bar, one of this area’s most delightful jazz spaces – I’ll be there. And when backing Rich up in that group is T.J. Martley on piano, Bill McKemy on bass, and Brain Steever on drums, I know I’m hearing a quartet culled from Kansas City’s top jazz musicians.
Last Saturday night, May 12th, at Take Five, they did not disappoint. Rich fronts this group with natural ease and remarkable talent. His full tenor sound filled the room with solos as exciting as they are imaginative. T.J., Bill and Brian played perfect support or spread-your-wings solos which consistently ended to wild applause. It’s been especially wonderful to hear Brian develop over the last couple of years into a drummer who leaves audience members whispering to each other about what they just heard (Saturday, I saw that more than once).
Let’s also recognize Take Five, which is bringing jazz to the suburbs several nights each week, in one of the most comfortable, most welcoming, and most acoustically solid spaces to hear the music, city or fringe.
If you missed it, here’s how the night looked. As always, clicking on a photo should open a larger version.
Not among musicians. Musicians in town know all about Rich Wheeler. He’s in Alaturka, in the People’s Liberation Big Band, in Mark Southerland’s groups, in Brandon Draper’s groups. Musicians know Rich is one KC’s best on tenor sax.
But because he’s mostly played as a sideman, the public is less aware of his name. Many in an audience just ask, so who was that fantastic tenor player in the group tonight?
That’s why when Rich Wheeler fronts his own group – especially when it’s in Take Five Coffee + Bar, one of this area’s most delightful jazz spaces – I’ll be there. And when backing Rich up in that group is T.J. Martley on piano, Bill McKemy on bass, and Brain Steever on drums, I know I’m hearing a quartet culled from Kansas City’s top jazz musicians.
Last Saturday night, May 12th, at Take Five, they did not disappoint. Rich fronts this group with natural ease and remarkable talent. His full tenor sound filled the room with solos as exciting as they are imaginative. T.J., Bill and Brian played perfect support or spread-your-wings solos which consistently ended to wild applause. It’s been especially wonderful to hear Brian develop over the last couple of years into a drummer who leaves audience members whispering to each other about what they just heard (Saturday, I saw that more than once).
Let’s also recognize Take Five, which is bringing jazz to the suburbs several nights each week, in one of the most comfortable, most welcoming, and most acoustically solid spaces to hear the music, city or fringe.
If you missed it, here’s how the night looked. As always, clicking on a photo should open a larger version.
Rich Wheeler Quartet. Left to right: T.J. Martley on keyboard, Brian Steever on drums, Rich Wheeler on tenor sax, Bill McKemy on bass
Rich Wheeler
Enjoying the quartet in Take Five
Pianist T.J. Martley
Rich, Brian and Bill
Bassist Bill McKemy
The Rich Wheeler Quartet performing
Rich and drummer Brian Steever
Framed by Billie on one side and Louis on the other, the Rich Wheeler Quartet in Take Five Coffee + Bar
Monday, May 7, 2012
People's Liberation Big Band of Greater Kansas City and Battleship Potemkin
Here’s an example of spectacular.
On screen, light shines on the sleeping, off-duty sailor. He awakens. In the theater, a big band plays, its score at this point cautious, curious. Other sailors awaken. There’s alarm. The big band score evokes apprehension but still curiosity, too. Sailors scurry, climb the riggings. The live music escalates. In the distance, a fleet of ships approaches. They’re the enemy. Will they attack? Music and movie mesh, the music building the stress and the sense of unknown, and underlying increasingly frenetic action. My hands are clenched, tight.
On screen, gun turrets are manned and raised. This single battleship prepares for an enemy fleet. They are the enemy, aren’t they? Why don’t they attack? The big band feeds the tension while foreshadowing nothing about how this will end.
I’m not going to tell you how it ends, either.
But I’ll tell you this: We’re hearing big band outside the box. This isn’t a lush auditorium with a guest artist. This isn’t late night in a club. This is Kansas City’s most original, inventive big band performing their score to the renowned 1925 silent film, Battleship Potemkin. The film plays to a few hundred people in the darkened theater, and the People’s Liberation Big Band of Greater Kansas City is an inseparable part of the experience.
Last year I photographed the big band’s May 1st performance at the Record Bar (here) where they played excerpts from their Battleship Potemkin score to excerpts from the film. It was typically quirky and fun, but the highlight of the evening came later when vocalists joined the band to parody the works of Kurt Weill. That’s the kind of musical sarcasm which People’s Liberation Big Band (PLBB) pulls off so skillfully, and which plays through so many of their shows with intellectual yet visceral delight.
But the real delight of their score to Battleship Potemkin wasn’t revealed until last Tuesday, May 1st, in the lower level theater of the Plaza Library, where the film was shown on the big screen. The music, both the original score and its performance, complemented the film near-perfectly, as if this 1925 silent epic was always meant to be seen with this and only this accompaniment.
Our friend Plastic Sax has written about the plethora of big bands Kansas City today is blessed to enjoy (here). And the others, such as the Kansas City Jazz Orchestra, are terrific, full of jazz masters over whom this city can unashamedly gloat. But few big band fans who relish a plush chair to enjoy the latest arrangement of a Basie or Ellington classic will also appreciate the risks taken by PLBB.
This is not your grandfather’s big band. It’s compositions pushing the edge through talent and wit. It’s unconventional voicing in unconventional settings. It’s accompanying, of all things, a Russian silent film lamenting workers’ rights on International Workers Day. Name another big band which has done that.
The People’s Liberation Big Band of Greater Kansas City takes chances, sometimes outrageous ones. And sometimes those chances don’t work.
But when they work, the results can be spectacular.
*****
So you missed last Tuesday’s Battleship Potemkin performance. But you can still enjoy the People’s Liberation Big Band of Greater Kansas City on a new CD.
They perform the first number, 12 Miniature Blues, 16 minutes of it, on Music for Owen/Cox Dance Group, Vol. 1. This may have been composed by PLBB leader Brad Cox for dance, but it stands on its own as a showcase for the big band at its best. From off-kilter cartoonish blues to Bob Fosse-style sleaze, to a sound cacophony, all wrapped in Brad’s unconventional whimsy, this is big band as you don’t hear big band anywhere else. It pushes boundaries and it’s fun.
You can purchase Music for Owen/Cox Dance Group, Vol. 1, here.
*****
Bill Caldwell Tribute
From an email from Stan Kessler:
My friends,
We are having a joyous celebration of the life of Bill Caldwell, May 20th, 2 p.m. at The Blue Room. This is for those of us who knew and loved Bill, but could not make it to the funeral. Please help us spread the word to the appropriate people.
Here’s the format:
Short set of tunes recorded by Bill by host band - Me, Kerry Strayer, Everett DeVan, Bob Bowman, Mike Warren, (Jerry Hahn?).
Remarks and stories by friends and family.
Jam session.
Tunes from Bill's CD projects played intermittently throughout.
The idea is for this to be fun and light, as Bill would have wanted it. This will last about 2 hours. There will be his CDs for sale, and part of the proceeds will go to his wife, Kim, to help defray funeral costs.
Hope to see you there.
On screen, light shines on the sleeping, off-duty sailor. He awakens. In the theater, a big band plays, its score at this point cautious, curious. Other sailors awaken. There’s alarm. The big band score evokes apprehension but still curiosity, too. Sailors scurry, climb the riggings. The live music escalates. In the distance, a fleet of ships approaches. They’re the enemy. Will they attack? Music and movie mesh, the music building the stress and the sense of unknown, and underlying increasingly frenetic action. My hands are clenched, tight.
On screen, gun turrets are manned and raised. This single battleship prepares for an enemy fleet. They are the enemy, aren’t they? Why don’t they attack? The big band feeds the tension while foreshadowing nothing about how this will end.
I’m not going to tell you how it ends, either.
But I’ll tell you this: We’re hearing big band outside the box. This isn’t a lush auditorium with a guest artist. This isn’t late night in a club. This is Kansas City’s most original, inventive big band performing their score to the renowned 1925 silent film, Battleship Potemkin. The film plays to a few hundred people in the darkened theater, and the People’s Liberation Big Band of Greater Kansas City is an inseparable part of the experience.
Last year I photographed the big band’s May 1st performance at the Record Bar (here) where they played excerpts from their Battleship Potemkin score to excerpts from the film. It was typically quirky and fun, but the highlight of the evening came later when vocalists joined the band to parody the works of Kurt Weill. That’s the kind of musical sarcasm which People’s Liberation Big Band (PLBB) pulls off so skillfully, and which plays through so many of their shows with intellectual yet visceral delight.
But the real delight of their score to Battleship Potemkin wasn’t revealed until last Tuesday, May 1st, in the lower level theater of the Plaza Library, where the film was shown on the big screen. The music, both the original score and its performance, complemented the film near-perfectly, as if this 1925 silent epic was always meant to be seen with this and only this accompaniment.
Our friend Plastic Sax has written about the plethora of big bands Kansas City today is blessed to enjoy (here). And the others, such as the Kansas City Jazz Orchestra, are terrific, full of jazz masters over whom this city can unashamedly gloat. But few big band fans who relish a plush chair to enjoy the latest arrangement of a Basie or Ellington classic will also appreciate the risks taken by PLBB.
This is not your grandfather’s big band. It’s compositions pushing the edge through talent and wit. It’s unconventional voicing in unconventional settings. It’s accompanying, of all things, a Russian silent film lamenting workers’ rights on International Workers Day. Name another big band which has done that.
The People’s Liberation Big Band of Greater Kansas City takes chances, sometimes outrageous ones. And sometimes those chances don’t work.
But when they work, the results can be spectacular.
*****
So you missed last Tuesday’s Battleship Potemkin performance. But you can still enjoy the People’s Liberation Big Band of Greater Kansas City on a new CD.
They perform the first number, 12 Miniature Blues, 16 minutes of it, on Music for Owen/Cox Dance Group, Vol. 1. This may have been composed by PLBB leader Brad Cox for dance, but it stands on its own as a showcase for the big band at its best. From off-kilter cartoonish blues to Bob Fosse-style sleaze, to a sound cacophony, all wrapped in Brad’s unconventional whimsy, this is big band as you don’t hear big band anywhere else. It pushes boundaries and it’s fun.
You can purchase Music for Owen/Cox Dance Group, Vol. 1, here.
*****
Bill Caldwell Tribute
From an email from Stan Kessler:
My friends,
We are having a joyous celebration of the life of Bill Caldwell, May 20th, 2 p.m. at The Blue Room. This is for those of us who knew and loved Bill, but could not make it to the funeral. Please help us spread the word to the appropriate people.
Here’s the format:
Short set of tunes recorded by Bill by host band - Me, Kerry Strayer, Everett DeVan, Bob Bowman, Mike Warren, (Jerry Hahn?).
Remarks and stories by friends and family.
Jam session.
Tunes from Bill's CD projects played intermittently throughout.
The idea is for this to be fun and light, as Bill would have wanted it. This will last about 2 hours. There will be his CDs for sale, and part of the proceeds will go to his wife, Kim, to help defray funeral costs.
Hope to see you there.
Monday, April 30, 2012
A Repost on Andy Kirk
The bulk of my last week was spent traveling on business, and when I returned I purchased a new car, replacing a reliable but aged jalopy. My mind has rambled amongst numerous topics this past week, but none of them, alas, was jazz. So today I ponder nothing new. Instead, I offer a re-post from this blog's early days, from January, 2010, when I was recounting tales of my days as an organizer of the Kansas City Jazz Festival (and when hardly anyone read this blog). This particular tale recalls the year we brought to town and I had the delight to meet bandleader Andy Kirk.
*****
Many don’t know that Andy Kirk led what once was the most popular band to come out of Kansas City, Andy Kirk and his Clouds of Joy. Their 1936 recording of Until the Real Thing Comes Along was that year’s top national hit. Count Basie would leave Kansas City the same year, and by 1937 Basie’s band was recording a string of tunes which not only eclipsed the Clouds of Joy’s popularity but which remain jazz standards today.
For the 1985 festival, we brought Andy Kirk back to Kansas City to honor him. The original idea (mine, actually) was to celebrate Kirk and fellow KC jazz era bandleader Harlan Leonard with a battle of the bands, groups we would assemble and they would nominally lead. But we found that Leonard had passed away a year-and-a-half earlier in California. So we flew in 87-year old Andy Kirk and scrapped the mock battle.
I would introduce Andy on stage. I’d prepared remarks, but wanted to make certain I had all the facts right. The Nelson Museum hosted our hospitality room that year, and that’s where I sat down with Andy.
I’ll never meet anyone nicer, or more delightful. I intended to cover my list of facts in a few minutes. But as I read off each, Andy asked, “Can I tell you a story about that?” For half an hour he regaled me with tales of Kansas City in the 1920s and ’30s, of life on the road, of legendary pianist and composer Mary Lou Williams, of the beginnings of Kansas City jazz. Among my great regrets from those festival years is that I did not have a recorder on the table that day.
All that Andy told me is in his autobiography, Twenty Years on Wheels (1989, The University of Michigan Press). Yet, for some reason, one particular story sticks with me still.
When Andy took over as bandleader in 1929, a promoter dubbed the group Andy Kirk and his Dark Clouds of Joy, with “Dark” in the name to insure no confusion that this was a band of black musicians. But Andy didn’t like “Dark” in the name. As he explains in his book:
“I’d heard that expression back in Denver. It usually came from men hanging around in front of a saloon with nothing to do. When some of us came down the street towards them they’d remark, ‘Looks like it’s gonna rain. Dark clouds comin’.’”
Upon taking charge, Andy’s first change was to rename the band, Andy Kirk and his Twelve Clouds of Joy.
*****
Few who know Kansas City jazz will ever forget Claude “Fiddler” Williams. His first recording (to my knowledge) was with Andy Kirk and his Twelve Clouds of Joy in a 1929 session at KMBC radio. Coincidentally, “Fiddler” played in a jam group just ahead of Andy at the 1985 festival. Of course, I know that over the years many people older than I saw “Fiddler” Williams and Andy Kirk together. But I was young and impressionable. And as I watched them greet each other on stage and chat, I was taken by the Kansas City jazz history standing before me.
I still am. I may not be young anymore, but I remain quite impressionable.
*****
The next day, some of the wonderful folks from Kansas City Parks and Rec, who booked the festival that year, took Andy on a tour of downtown. He wanted to see what this city had become. They stopped on 12th Street, in front of the then-brand new Vista International Hotel (today, the Marriott). This, they told him, replaced a strip of old buildings and clubs where he once played. Andy, they later told me, was amazed.
That would turn out to be Andy Kirk’s last visit to Kansas City.
*****
Many don’t know that Andy Kirk led what once was the most popular band to come out of Kansas City, Andy Kirk and his Clouds of Joy. Their 1936 recording of Until the Real Thing Comes Along was that year’s top national hit. Count Basie would leave Kansas City the same year, and by 1937 Basie’s band was recording a string of tunes which not only eclipsed the Clouds of Joy’s popularity but which remain jazz standards today.
For the 1985 festival, we brought Andy Kirk back to Kansas City to honor him. The original idea (mine, actually) was to celebrate Kirk and fellow KC jazz era bandleader Harlan Leonard with a battle of the bands, groups we would assemble and they would nominally lead. But we found that Leonard had passed away a year-and-a-half earlier in California. So we flew in 87-year old Andy Kirk and scrapped the mock battle.
I would introduce Andy on stage. I’d prepared remarks, but wanted to make certain I had all the facts right. The Nelson Museum hosted our hospitality room that year, and that’s where I sat down with Andy.
I’ll never meet anyone nicer, or more delightful. I intended to cover my list of facts in a few minutes. But as I read off each, Andy asked, “Can I tell you a story about that?” For half an hour he regaled me with tales of Kansas City in the 1920s and ’30s, of life on the road, of legendary pianist and composer Mary Lou Williams, of the beginnings of Kansas City jazz. Among my great regrets from those festival years is that I did not have a recorder on the table that day.
All that Andy told me is in his autobiography, Twenty Years on Wheels (1989, The University of Michigan Press). Yet, for some reason, one particular story sticks with me still.
When Andy took over as bandleader in 1929, a promoter dubbed the group Andy Kirk and his Dark Clouds of Joy, with “Dark” in the name to insure no confusion that this was a band of black musicians. But Andy didn’t like “Dark” in the name. As he explains in his book:
“I’d heard that expression back in Denver. It usually came from men hanging around in front of a saloon with nothing to do. When some of us came down the street towards them they’d remark, ‘Looks like it’s gonna rain. Dark clouds comin’.’”
Upon taking charge, Andy’s first change was to rename the band, Andy Kirk and his Twelve Clouds of Joy.
*****
Few who know Kansas City jazz will ever forget Claude “Fiddler” Williams. His first recording (to my knowledge) was with Andy Kirk and his Twelve Clouds of Joy in a 1929 session at KMBC radio. Coincidentally, “Fiddler” played in a jam group just ahead of Andy at the 1985 festival. Of course, I know that over the years many people older than I saw “Fiddler” Williams and Andy Kirk together. But I was young and impressionable. And as I watched them greet each other on stage and chat, I was taken by the Kansas City jazz history standing before me.
I still am. I may not be young anymore, but I remain quite impressionable.
*****
The next day, some of the wonderful folks from Kansas City Parks and Rec, who booked the festival that year, took Andy on a tour of downtown. He wanted to see what this city had become. They stopped on 12th Street, in front of the then-brand new Vista International Hotel (today, the Marriott). This, they told him, replaced a strip of old buildings and clubs where he once played. Andy, they later told me, was amazed.
That would turn out to be Andy Kirk’s last visit to Kansas City.
Monday, April 23, 2012
This 'n That 'n a Map
By this time, the Cherry Blossom was a bowling alley. But there was a post office just a couple doors away. The Street and the Booker T. Washington and the Rochester all stood as active hotels. You could see movies at The Gem. There's apartments and homes throughout the district. A filling station sits right along The Paseo, just south of 18th Street. And on 18th, across from what today we call the Boone Theater, and a couple doors down, you could find an undertaker.
I’ve been introduced to Sanborn Fire Insurance Maps. The Kansas City Public Library’s web site probably offers the best explanation of them:
“These maps, created by the Sanborn Map Company to assist fire insurance companies to assess the risk of insuring a particular property, are a great resource. Besides showing what buildings existed in a specific area at a certain time, the original shape (footprint) is illustrated, allowing you to pinpoint any remodeling or other changes that may have occurred over time. The footprints are color-coded to indicate building material (e.g., brick, frame, stucco), and other symbols are used to indicate roofing material, location of chimneys, water line availability, and other features….
“Because it was prohibitively expensive to reprint them, employees of the Sanborn company would use a base volume and paste over areas where significant change had occurred (e.g., a new building had been built). For example, a base volume may be dated 1909, but the changes within that volume could date as late as 1945….”
Or 1950, in the case of the Sanborn map for the 18th and Vine district, which you can view on the library’s web site, here. Controls on the site allow you to enlarge and scroll the map.
The map provides a fascinating snapshot of the historic district. It’s a layout of the district three years before urban renewal would begin transforming the surrounding areas. It would be fourteen years before the Public Accommodations Act would pass, forcing Kansas City businesses to serve black patrons. It had been fourteen years since Count Basie left for New York. Musically, we were midway between Lester Young taking down Coleman Hawkins in an historic jam session at the Cherry Blossom, and The Beatles appearing on The Ed Sullivan Show.
18th and Vine’s day as a jazz mecca had passed. The Eblon, which opened as a silent movie theater in 1923, became the Cherry Blossom nightclub in the 1930s and then the Chez Paree (where Jay McShann and Walter Brown performed nightly) in the 1940s, is identified on this map as a bowling alley. The building which opened as the New Rialto Theater in 1924, was renamed the Boone Theater, and later Scott’s Theater, here is a National Guard Armory.
The district at this time was segregated Kansas City’s vibrant black downtown. 18th Street from Paseo to Woodland is packed with storefronts. Likewise, Vine. Most businesses are not identified. But among the ones that are, you find a couple of drugstores, auto repair garages, a bicycle repair shop, filling stations, a couple of printers, photo shops, a post office, offices, restaurants, hotels, homes, apartments, churches, a movie theater, a pool hall, and a building at 1823 Highland that’s labeled, Club Ho[use].
The map is a glimpse of 18th and Vine at a particular point in time, somewhere between its days of jazz and sin and its days of museums and a giant neon greeting.
*****
Diverse Trio with Hermon Mehari, Ben Leifer and Ryan Lee. Millie Edwards and Michael Pagan. Joe Cartwright and “Duck” Warner.
So we know the jazz will be superb.
JazzBeats is a fundraiser for pancreatic cancer next Sunday, April 29th, in the Off-Broadway Theatre, at the edge of Penn Valley Park. It runs from 11 a.m. to 2 p.m. The organizers describe it like this:
“Brunch style small plates brought to you by local Kansas City restaurants and food trucks. Our menu ranges from chicken and waffles to tacos to quiche and bagels.
“A come and go as you please festival… an atmosphere of mingling, toe tapping and food sampling.”
More information is on their web site, here.
*****
Two days later is May 1st. That’s International Worker’s Day. And you know what that means.
If you don’t, you can refresh your memory here. That’s the last time I photographed the People’s Liberation Big Band of Greater Kansas City, one of the quirkiest and funnest big bands you’ll find. And International Worker’s Day is their holiday.
Last year at The Record Bar, they celebrated in part by playing a portion of their score to the silent film Battleship Potemkin. I noted in the post, “They have a complete score ready if a theater would show the film. Anyone?”
How about we settle for a library.
On Tuesday May 1st, the People’s Liberation Big Band of Greater Kansas City will play their complete score during a showing of the silent film Battleship Potemkin at the Plaza branch of the Kansas City Library. A reception starts at 6 p.m. and the film at 6:30. Admission is free. More details are here.
Until last year, I never thought that International Worker’s Day would become a holiday I look forward to. But, frankly, this year I can’t wait.
I’ve been introduced to Sanborn Fire Insurance Maps. The Kansas City Public Library’s web site probably offers the best explanation of them:
“These maps, created by the Sanborn Map Company to assist fire insurance companies to assess the risk of insuring a particular property, are a great resource. Besides showing what buildings existed in a specific area at a certain time, the original shape (footprint) is illustrated, allowing you to pinpoint any remodeling or other changes that may have occurred over time. The footprints are color-coded to indicate building material (e.g., brick, frame, stucco), and other symbols are used to indicate roofing material, location of chimneys, water line availability, and other features….
“Because it was prohibitively expensive to reprint them, employees of the Sanborn company would use a base volume and paste over areas where significant change had occurred (e.g., a new building had been built). For example, a base volume may be dated 1909, but the changes within that volume could date as late as 1945….”
Or 1950, in the case of the Sanborn map for the 18th and Vine district, which you can view on the library’s web site, here. Controls on the site allow you to enlarge and scroll the map.
The map provides a fascinating snapshot of the historic district. It’s a layout of the district three years before urban renewal would begin transforming the surrounding areas. It would be fourteen years before the Public Accommodations Act would pass, forcing Kansas City businesses to serve black patrons. It had been fourteen years since Count Basie left for New York. Musically, we were midway between Lester Young taking down Coleman Hawkins in an historic jam session at the Cherry Blossom, and The Beatles appearing on The Ed Sullivan Show.
18th and Vine’s day as a jazz mecca had passed. The Eblon, which opened as a silent movie theater in 1923, became the Cherry Blossom nightclub in the 1930s and then the Chez Paree (where Jay McShann and Walter Brown performed nightly) in the 1940s, is identified on this map as a bowling alley. The building which opened as the New Rialto Theater in 1924, was renamed the Boone Theater, and later Scott’s Theater, here is a National Guard Armory.
The district at this time was segregated Kansas City’s vibrant black downtown. 18th Street from Paseo to Woodland is packed with storefronts. Likewise, Vine. Most businesses are not identified. But among the ones that are, you find a couple of drugstores, auto repair garages, a bicycle repair shop, filling stations, a couple of printers, photo shops, a post office, offices, restaurants, hotels, homes, apartments, churches, a movie theater, a pool hall, and a building at 1823 Highland that’s labeled, Club Ho[use].
The map is a glimpse of 18th and Vine at a particular point in time, somewhere between its days of jazz and sin and its days of museums and a giant neon greeting.
*****
Diverse Trio with Hermon Mehari, Ben Leifer and Ryan Lee. Millie Edwards and Michael Pagan. Joe Cartwright and “Duck” Warner.
So we know the jazz will be superb.
JazzBeats is a fundraiser for pancreatic cancer next Sunday, April 29th, in the Off-Broadway Theatre, at the edge of Penn Valley Park. It runs from 11 a.m. to 2 p.m. The organizers describe it like this:
“Brunch style small plates brought to you by local Kansas City restaurants and food trucks. Our menu ranges from chicken and waffles to tacos to quiche and bagels.
“A come and go as you please festival… an atmosphere of mingling, toe tapping and food sampling.”
More information is on their web site, here.
*****
Two days later is May 1st. That’s International Worker’s Day. And you know what that means.
If you don’t, you can refresh your memory here. That’s the last time I photographed the People’s Liberation Big Band of Greater Kansas City, one of the quirkiest and funnest big bands you’ll find. And International Worker’s Day is their holiday.
Last year at The Record Bar, they celebrated in part by playing a portion of their score to the silent film Battleship Potemkin. I noted in the post, “They have a complete score ready if a theater would show the film. Anyone?”
How about we settle for a library.
On Tuesday May 1st, the People’s Liberation Big Band of Greater Kansas City will play their complete score during a showing of the silent film Battleship Potemkin at the Plaza branch of the Kansas City Library. A reception starts at 6 p.m. and the film at 6:30. Admission is free. More details are here.
Until last year, I never thought that International Worker’s Day would become a holiday I look forward to. But, frankly, this year I can’t wait.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
