Benny Goodman
The King of Swing®
Volumes 11 and 12
NBC Broadcast Recordings, 1936-1943
Volume 11
1. King Porter Stomp
2. Flying Home
3. Stardust
4. All The Things You Are
5. Indian Summer
6. One O'Clock Jump
7. Frenesi
8. The Moon Won't Talk
9. Yours
10. Gone with What Draft
11. Let the Doorknob Hit 'Cha
12. Caprice XXIII Paganini
13. I See A Million People
14. Moon and Sand
15. Superman
16. Who Can I Turn To?
17. Something New
18. I Don't Want to Set the World on Fire 3:29
19. A Smooth One
Volume 12 1. At The Darktown Strutter's Ball
2. Time On My Hands (You In My Arms) 3:10
3. Three Little Words
4. Sunday, Monday for Always 5. Bugle Call Rag
6. Sweet Georgia Brown
7. Memories of You
8. Medley: Oh Lady Be Good / Mack the Knife / I Can't Give You Anything But Love 9. Avalon
10. Rose Room
11. That's A Plenty
12. Lulu's Back in Town
13. New Kind of Love
14. Muskrat Rumble
15. Stompin' At The Savoy
16. The Dixieland Band
17. Dear Old Southland
DISC 1, VOLUME 11
With this album, we come to the end of what has been a 14-year labor of love. None of this would have happened if it had not been for the longtime friendship between Benny Goodman and William Hyland, an accomplished clarinetist and a distinguished lawyer who was also New Jersey's Attorney General. Goodman expressed interest in leaving his collection to Yale University, and even visited there with Hyland just days before his death in June 1986. But that meeting left nothing settled beyond the preliminaries, and it was Bill Hyland who set up the entire matrix that resulted in the issuance of these recordings, as well as the machinery that continues to run the Goodman Estate. He was also obliged to review and approve of the content of these recordings to ensure that they represent Goodman's legacy as BG himself expressed it. Everyone involved in this project also owes a large debt of gratitude to the much beloved Harold Samuels. As Music Librarian at Yale University, it was his fortitude and imminently sane sense of humor that transformed Benny Goodman's collection, at Bill Hyland's behest, from papers and boxes in the storage room of the library's basement into a living, breathing collection of swinging sounds that have pleased Goodman fans worldwide.
"Sam" as he was known to his friends, gave me the latitude to select all of the material and to program each volume in this series of first-time issues that have added a significant chunk to the recorded legacy of one of America's greatest musicians. This last set includes Goodman with three of his greatest big bands during his heyday as the King of Swing®. There are also rare moments half a century apart that reveal his ability to make every band he led sound uniquely his, in addition to a small group concert that was played, appropriately, at Yale in 1961.
The first broadcast finds the Goodman band in the midst of its first major stylistic change since the advent of the Fletcher Henderson/Jimmy Mundy/Edgar Sampson era in 1935. It was effected by the advent of three major factors: arranger Eddie Sauter, the bass and drum team of Artie Bernstein and Nick Fatool, and in the small groups, the playing and compositions of guitarist Charlie Christian.
JANUARY 15, 1940
KING PORTER STOMP
is a perfect introduction to Goodman's world. It was written by jazz's first great composer, Jelly Roll Morton (who also recorded it in duet with cornetist King Oliver), then batted
around the innovative Fletcher Henderson band for a decade before Henderson himself codified the various changes and additions in his classic 1935 arrangement for Goodman's band. The original BG recording was taken at a surprisingly slow medium tempo, but this broadcast version is much closer to where he liked to stomp it off in subsequent years. Trumpeter Chris Griffin had left the band just months earlier after a good three-year stretch, but was called in to sub on this broadcast -- he plays the muted, opening solo over the chanting reeds and sustained brass. The sax solo introduces the fruity, full sound of lead alto man Toots Mondello, who, along with Hymie Schertzer, gave the band one of its most distinctive sounds. Goodman is in inspired form, bridging his choruses with a keening, high Bb that elicits a vocal response from the band. Trumpeter Ziggy Elman grabs Goodman's last note, a C, and runs with it. Listen for Fatool's inspired fillshe had his own unusual combination of cymbal and drum hits that must have been thrilling to play over. Vernon Brown takes the trombone solo in his stoic fashion, followed by Mondello, who was, on occasion, a provocative soloist. The famous out choruses still sound inspired, no small feat considering the thousands of times the band must have played them by this time.
It wasn't until 1942 that Lionel Hampton recorded his famous version of FLYING HOME, which then became his band's theme song. Many forget that it was introduced by the Goodman Sextet and that their Columbia 78 of it contained the very first Charlie Christian recorded solo. Given his tremendous influence, it is difficult to appreciate how startling his evenly extended Lester Young-inspired phrases must have sounded at the time. Christian was a master musical architect -- listen for the way he lets the clarinet/vibes riff serve as a frame around his solo. Hampton starts his solo with a jarring dissonance, which brings his mastery of harmony to the fore -- both he and Christian pushed the limits of contemporary jazz harmony during their 10 months in Goodman's Sextet. Once again, Fatool's subtle accents help give the performance a dynamic, rhythmic profile.
One of Goodman's greatest traits was his way of paraphrasing a classic melody, which is on display on the next selection. The contrasting disciplines of improvisation and composition merge naturally during Christian's classic chorus on STARDUST. Many of its phrases pay homage to one of his inspirations and mentors, the trombonist/arranger/composer and pioneer
electric guitarist Eddie Durham. Christian played the same solo verbatim on all the surviving versions, and it stands along with Lawrence Brown's choruses on Ellington's 1938 recording of "Rose of The Rio Grande" as one of the great "set" solos of the day.
Next come two of the most delicious discoveries this collection has to offer: a pair of wonderful songs, arranged by the genius Eddie Sauter and sung by Helen Forrest. Sauter was, in the 30's, the most original voice to appear in jazz orchestration/composition after Ellington, and his conception is immediately recognizable. Gunther Schuller's book, The Swing Era, has an appropriately enthusiastic segment on Sauter's work that singles out his creatively challenging way of making the modulations from one key to another that had already become cliche-ridden in lesser hands in the big band parlance of the day. Listen for the way the key centers shift preceding the vocal choruses of both ALL
THE THINGS YOU ARE and INDIAN SUMMER.
Not only is it beautiful to hear, but it is composition of the highest order, as are the rest of the arrangements. Sauter's reworking of the original pieces was so radical, given the context, that calling it arranging doesn't suffice. Each one has wonderful and subtle moments, many
emanating from the counterpoint Sauter weaves behind the lead parts. It was his 1936-39 work with xylophonist Red Norvo's band, much of it featuring his wife, vocalist Mildred Bailey, that established Sauter as a major writer. But Norvo's quietly swinging unit called for a chamber music approach, and upon leaving there in 1939, Sauter had to learn to deal with the powerhouse that was the Goodman band. He gave it a richness and variety of timbres that it had never had before, and luckily, this set adds several previously unheard Sauter gems to the record.
When Goodman first heard Count Basie's 1937 recording of ONE O'CLOCK JUMP, he reportedly played it over and over again for his men, asking them why they couldn't sound like that. Well, no one else could, but Goodman soon worked up his own take on Basie's classic, cutting down the solo space a tad and adding an evolving series of shout choruses. Harry James introduced a canon of descending trumpets that he eventually recorded with his own band as the Two O'Clock Jump. You can hear the cascading trumpets here for a couple of choruses before the big ending. It's odd that tenor man Jerry Jerome, who just months earlier had been this band's featured soloist, is not heard from on this broadcast -- but then
again, Benny was always switching solos around. We have piano by Johnny Guarnieri, another chorus by altoist Mondello, trombone by Ted Vesley (sounds more fluid than Brown to these ears), trumpet from a muted Ziggy Elman and an inspired pair by the leader (hear Christian chonking away in the rhythm section), who midway through the solo works himself in and out of some pretty challenging intervals.
FEBRUARY 24, 1941
We jump a little over a year into early 1941 and find yet another sterling edition of the Goodman band caught live on the air. There is an incredible array of first-rate soloists -tenor saxophonist George Auld, trombonists Lou McGarity and the seldom-featured Cutty Cutshall, pianist Guarnieri, Charlie Christian and trumpeter Cootie Williams. But first and foremost is the presence of drummer Dave Tough, who was diminutive in stature only. His beat and psychic energy were huge, and he had the ability to raise a band right off the floor. FRENESI had been a hit for Artie Shaw, and this swinging cover version was arranged by Fletcher Henderson, who was clearly challenged by the advent of Sauter in 1939, and as a result enlarged his orchestral palette. There are any number of effects he achieves that are nowhere to be found in his
earlier writing. But the harmonic and rhythmic spheres are still relatively (and that's the key word here) square compared to Sauter and the other writers who came into the band at this time. The tenor solo is by Auld who, during this period, was under the tremendous sway of Ben Webster's work with the Ellington band. And it was only in the Ellington band that you would find the challenging harmonic and melodic combinations that dot Sauter's reworking of
THE MOON WON'T TALK.
The countermelodies and the especially odd figure that introduces Forrest's vocals are inspired and the band interprets them with great finesse. Even simple figures such as the ones that back the bridge of the vocal chorus take on a new meaning in Sauter's hands.
Goodman rightly gets credit for integrating his band in the 30s with Lionel Hampton and Teddy Wilson. Rarely mentioned is his championing of women composer/arrangers. Mary Lou Williams received much more exposure from her work with Goodman than she did with Andy Kirk's bands. Lesserknown, but quite accomplished, was Margie Gibson. She only wrote a handful of charts for the Goodman band, but each one is outstanding. Gibson had clearly absorbed the idioms of Henderson and Jimmy Mundy,
but found her own creative voice within in.
On Yours, listen for the varied hi-hat work by drummer Tough -- tight behind the leader and loosely swishing for Williams' 12-bar homage to Louis Armstrong. And don't miss Tough's marching bass drum work -- the very definition of a swinging beat.
Benny Goodman and Count Basie both owed a lot to the pioneering jazz producer and talent scout John Hammond. At Hammond's suggestion, Basie recorded a few sessions as a featured sideman in Goodman's Sextet in 1939-40. After guesting on the broadcast with his own rhythm section, Basie enlivens this septet version of
GONE WITH WHAT DRAFT
. Based on the chords of Honeysuckle Rose, there are solos by the leader (who clearly enjoys Basie's bridge bass lines), Basie and bassist Artie Bernstein, in addition to some pretty fancy ensemble parts. This kind of small group jazz was innovative and quite influential with its sleek lines and complex figures. It's amazing how much music these men could pack into 150 seconds!
is kicked mercilessly by Tough's cymbals, and listen for the bass drum boot he uses to kick into the shout chorus -- BOOM! It's also worth noting that Williams was first known in New York as a sterling lead trumpeter -- the growling came later - and he plays the first trumpet parts on many of these pieces.
OCTOBER 22, 1941
Gibson's arrangement of LET THE DOORKNOB HIT 'CHA usually featured a Cootie Williams vocal chorus, but here it split between McGarity and Auld. The trumpeter gets the bridge of Goodman's chorus, which
During 1941, Goodman recorded with some great drummers, including Buddy Rich, Dave Tough, Jo Jones, Sid Catlett and J.C. Heard. Our next broadcast adds Ralph Collier to this august group, and he proves to be a superlative timekeeper and a swinging addition to the band. He had the unenviable position of taking Catlett's place. You have to understand Goodman's mindset about drummers to appreciate what is going on here. On the one hand, he knew that his band would never sound good without a dynamic drummer, but the tremendous popularity of Gene Krupa during the band's early years caused a feeling of resentment and/or jealousy on Goodman's part. All of his subsequent drummers had to deal with the extreme challenge of swinging the band without drawing attention to themselves. Catlett was not only one of the prime innovators in jazz, but also equally gifted as a showman. He only lasted a few months
with Goodman, and while some of the studio and broadcast performances made during that time are thrilling, there is a strain in Goodman's playing at times that seems to emanate from a desire to control Catlett, which was a losing battle. It must also be said that Catlett overplayed at times - but this is easily excused, given the pressure he clearly felt from Benny. There were times when Goodman's insensitivity reduced Catlett to tears.
When Collier joined the band, Goodman felt liberated now that he no longer had to battle to establish his rhythmic primacy. Those of us who played with Benny easily recognize the special drive and bubbling-over feeling he purveyed when he was inspired, and it's all throughout these titles. The sheer bite of his phrasing during Skip Martin's reworking of a well-known classical theme, CAPRICE XXIII PAGANINI is a crystal clear example of the happy Goodman - hear those crackling quarter notes at the beginning of his solo. There is a brief, sparkling episode from pianist Mel Powell, who was an integral part of this band's personality. 'Later a Pulitzer Prize-winning composer and noted educator, he was barely 18 years old when he joined Goodman's band in June 1941, which makes the maturity and depth of his playing all the more astonishing. The tenor solo is George
Berg, who had previously been a soloist in Red Norvo's classic band with Mildred Bailey and Eddie Sauter. This is as good a place as any to note the superb balance the radio engineers obtained on these broadcasts. The horns, the rhythm section and Benny are all in perfect concord. Would that the great majority of today's recording engineers had an inkling of this aural concept!
Now we get to hear three Sauter arrangements in a row, starting with his beautiful treatment of I SEE A MILLION PEOPLE, which had been one of Peggy Lee's first recordings with the band a few months earlier. In the interim, her self-confidence had grown, and there are glimpses here of her later, mature style. A highlight of this performance is the piano/clarinet trading of two-bar phrases after the vocal - they seem to be talking to each other. You may have noticed by now the wonderful tone and phrasing of the brass section. They had been together for several months by this time and are comparable to the great 1937-38 quintet of Harry James, Ziggy Elman, Chris Griffin, Red Ballard and Vernon Brown. The trombones were still McGarity and Cutshall, and the trumpets comprised the legendary lead man Jimmy Maxwell, Al Davis, plus two distinctive stylists who were also wonderful first trumpeters -- Cootie Williams and Billy Butterfield.
Goodman never commercially recorded Alec Wilder's MOON AND SAND, and that's a shame, for Sauter's score captures the song's elusive essence. Things kick off with Collier keeping a marvelously controlled press roll that eventually subsides into swinging cymbal rhythms. This is a deceptively simple sounding arrangement, for the song has an unusual form, and there are many demanding phrases and instrumental combinations required of the horn sections. The gritty tenor is by Vida Musso, who made his name as a member of the 1936-37 Goodman band and later played with Stan Kenton.
WHO CAN I TURN TO? is another Wilder piece, and the arrangement could be his as well. Sauter and Mel Powell maintained such a high standard for the band that this arrangement, which in most other contexts would be good enough, sounds pedestrian by contrast - maybe it's not Wilder's after all.
Sauter's through-composed treatment of
SOMETHING
NEW is another piece so full of contrasting voicings and phrases that it took a long time for the band to make it sound cohesive. Goodman recorded four months earlier (with Jo Jones on drums), but this version holds together better. We get a rare chance to hear Butterfield (first two solos) and Williams (last trumpet solo) play on the same piece, but it is a soaring Goodman who gets the lion's share of the space. The tenor is by Musso and the alto probably by Clint Neagly. Sauter's variation of the saxophone and brass backgrounds to the clarinet solo is worth several listenings by themselves. Note that the introduction includes an emphasis on the flatted-fifth, which many still think came into jazz with Dizzy Gillespie and Charlie Parker.
SUPERMAN was composed as a feature for Cootie Williams, and Sauter pulled out all the stops. The hopscotching trumpet and trombone figures behind the solo trumpet at the top are known as hockets and are very difficult to pull off. As with many of Sauter's up-tempo pieces, there is a slightly cluttered feeling due to the preponderance of written material for the accompanying horns, but the band pulls it off with aplomb. One lesser remarked upon facet of big band soloing is the importance of the written backgrounds. Goodman and Williams were masters at letting the backgrounds do their job and fitting their solos around them. Listen to the way Goodman plays off of with the Ellington band, nothing fazed Williams and he sounds right at home.
like Who Can I Turn To, was never recorded by the band. Peggy Lee does a serviceable job with the vocal, but the most intriguing aspects are the blues-infected solos of the leader and Powell.
The septet recorded A SMOOTH ONE several months earlier, but this Sauter big band version was the one Goodman played more often at the time. As mentioned earlier, up tempos were not Sauter's forte - he seemed loath to let the horns rest - but the intelligence with which he throws things together is more than enough compensation. Benny has the horns lay out, and plays a chorus with the rhythm section to great effect. Williams and Musso solo over a solidly swinging beat laid down by Collier (he makes the band romp), who plays a crisp eight-bar solo in the last chorus.
As a result of the recording ban that went into effect on August 1, 1942 (there was dispute between the Musician's Union and the recording companies), most Goodman fans know little about the bands he led until they began recording again for Columbia in early 1945. The war was wreaking havoc with the big bands as most of the experienced sidemen were drafted, leaving older vets and younger players (who were also awaiting their notices) to fill their shoes. Goodman
had his share of ups and downs during this period; but things came together in mid-1943 for about half a year, until he finally disbanded. The band's major sparkplug was the trombonist Bill Harris, who exploded into fame with Woody Herman's groundbreaking First Herd a year later. Pianist Jess Stacy had been a linchpin of the Goodman band from 1935-39 where he existed largely in the shadow of Teddy Wilson -- in this band, he got the spotlight. The guitarist was Allan Reuss, a disciple of the legendary George Van Eps and one of the best rhythm players of the era. Like Stacy, he was a member of the great BG band of the mid-30s. The following items come from a pilot for a projected radio series that revolved around Benny hosting a game show where the contestants were servicemen. While his charisma with his clarinet had made him an international star, Benny was not known for his verbal abilities (to put it mildly), and the show was never picked up.
DISC 2, VOLUME 12
September 9, 1943
This is at least the third arrangement of the old war-horse AT THE DARKTOWN STRUTTER'S BALL that Goodman featured over the years -- Spud Murphy's 1934 version and Mel Powell's 1942 one. While the
writing doesn't have the distinctive style heard on the previous broadcasts, it forms an effective frame for the solos of the leader, Harris, Stacy and tenor saxophonist Herbie Haymer (whose place was taken shortly thereafter by a teenaged Zoot Sims).
TIME ON MY HANDS (YOU IN MY ARMS) is an undistinguished pop tune with a charmingly swinging and all-too-rare vocal chorus by Benny himself (he always sounded vaguely self-conscious, and to these ears, influenced by Sophie Tucker, of all people). Stacy loved to play right through the arrangements, and Benny loved the counterpoint. The strange, upside down clarinet glissando at the end is quite unusual and quite funny.
Whereas the Goodman small groups of 193541 broke new ground, the combos with Jess Stacy hearkened back to their Chicago days of the 20s, albeit in an updated fashion.
THREE LITTLE WORDS rolls steadily along from the first note, and starts with a phrase that a year later became part of "Rachel's Dream." Listen for the sheer perfection of the rhythm section behind the clarinet and piano solos, and how naturally the soloists merge into counterpoint in the first half of the last chorus. Goodman loved this aspect of Stacy's playing. On more than one occasion, Benny played the famous 1938
Carnegie Hall Concert version of "One O'Clock Jump" for me -- the express purpose being to point out how Stacy's increasingly active accompaniment to his clarinet solo made the whole thing happen.
The next piece was arranged by Eddie Sauter and is issued commercially here for the first time. His work for this edition of the band was more extroverted and slightly less contrapuntal than his earlier writing.
SUNDAY, MONDAY OR ALWAYS has Stacy's piano throughout (vocalists hated it, but it adds a nice touch for us jazz listeners), some unusually dissonant brass, an odd interlude, a two-bar Goodman solo and a refreshing coda that serves as Sauter's signature.
There were two previous Goodman recordings of the BUGLE CALL RAG, (1934, Dean Kincaide, arranger and 1936, Jimmy Mundy, arranger). This is the extended version that was butchered through editing in the 1943 film, Stage Door Canteen, and it's nice to hear the whole thing. There's plenty of room for an extended Goodman solo over that smooth rhythm section, and a chorus from a bluesy Bill Harris. The strange thing about this broadcast is that we do not know who the drummer is. He was clearly a master, holding down the fort for Gene Krupa, who rejoined the band soon
afterwards. Though it's already been noted, the clearness with which the engineers captured the totality of the band's sound, while the norm at the time, is to be marveled at today.
NOVEMBER 3, 1961
We jump almost two decades to a Yale University concert that catches Benny and band in rare form. This septet was taken out of a specially assembled big band Benny was taking to South America. His front line partners were the elegant trumpeter Buck Clayton, who after coming to fame in the Count Basie band had become an internationally known soloist and bandleader, and vibraphonist Harry Sheppard. The Rhythm section had Louis Armstrong (and BG) alumni Arvell Shaw on bass, the everpropulsive and long-time Goodman favorite pianist Derek Smith, guitarist Howie Collins and the undersung drummer Mousie Alexander. Though he had already played these tunes thousands upon thousands of times (and would continue to play them for the next quarter century), on a good night Goodman could breathe new air into them and make you think he was encountering them for the first time. Surprises and moments of eloquence abound
-- the extra tags at the end of SWEET
GEORGIA BROWN, the way the concert hall enhances Goodman's gorgeous sound during the introduction of MEMORIES OF YOU, the medley, which contains some beautiful even-eighth phrasing from Benny during the penultimate chorus of I CAN'T GIVE YOU ANYTHING BUT LOVE, the relaxed feel throughout ROSE ROOM and the rousing closer, THAT'S A PLENTY, which Benny had recorded back in his teens and which always brought out "the ol' pepper," as he called it.
JANUARY 17-19, 1986
In January 1986, Benny made his very last recording sessions. He was leading a band that I had put together in 1980 and that he had, for the last six months, gradually transformed into the last Benny Goodman Orchestra. The sessions themselves were unfortunately far from ideal. Particular about the way his band was recorded, but lacking the patience and/or verbal skills to express what he wanted, Benny forced engineer Gregg Squires to place his microphones far from their optimum positions, resulting in a balance that lacked definition. In addition, less than six months from his death, Benny was not feeling all that well, which put him in a rather odd mood most of the time.
Having said all that, with Benny it was always about music, music, music and the band sounds wonderful. The three titles, LULU'S BACK IN TOWN, YOU BROUGHT A NEW KIND OF LOVE TO ME and MUSKRAT RAMBLE, were all arranged by Fletcher Henderson and while only the second one can truly be called a classic, they represent what Benny and Fletcher brought to American music. And in these last recorded moments, he still manages to summon up the grace and the humor and the swing that defined his approach to jazz. The soloists include Ken Peplowski on tenor sax, trumpeter Randy Sandke and trombonist Dan Barrett. Note the presence of drummer Louie Bellson, who first joined the Goodman band in 1942. Known internationally for decades as a distinguished bandleader, Bellson returned and as always, selflessly swing the band even though Benny made him play with only one of his trademark two bass drums.
MARCH 29, 1936
The last three selections come from a half a century earlier and were broadcast during the band's extended engagement at Chicago's Congress Hotel. STOMPIN' AT THE SAVOY was an Edgar Sampson piece that Chick Webb's band had already recorded, but it was Goodman's Spartan and polished
version that captured the country's imagination. The soloists are tenor saxophonist Art Rollini and trombonist Joe Harris (listen for Krupa's subtle accents during his solo). Vocalist Helen Ward sang THE
DIXIELAND BAND
, which had been the band's first hit a year earlier. There's not too much to say about it now except that Benny and drummer Gene Krupa made the most of their spot in the middle of the arrangement.
Fletcher Henderson's brother, Horace, who was a better pianist and a far more imaginative arranger, was responsible for Dear Old Southland. This time the tenor saxophonist is Dick Clark and the trombonist is Harris again. Pianist Jess Stacy plays some great jazz during his 16 bars, but the band is the real story here. Rehearsed to a tee by Goodman, they make the music come alive, paced brilliantly by Krupa's drums. Benny frequently referred to this band as one of his favorites, and although it lacked the fire and brilliance that Harry James helped inculcate a year later, it's easy to see why. Things were still very much in the process of becoming, great success was almost visible on the horizon and the Kingdom of Swing was about to become a reality.
-Loren Schoenberg
Produced by The Yale University Music Library
Harold E. Samuel, Music Librarian
Engineering: Gregory K. Squires
Special thanks to William Hyland and Shirley Deeter, the co-executors of Benny Goodman's Estate, and to Phoebe Jacobs.
Photos courtesy of Yale University Music Library
Cover Design: Mairin Barbiere
