PAT: A-CAKE

Mindful there has not been too much a pitter-PATter of posts arriving under this banner, time to think out of the box. And what could be better than a cake box, something that may have me awarding me a pat, SWIDT, on the back for inspiration. Of course, Cake are no strangers here, usually courtesy their way with quirky covers, enough to endear themselves to me bigtime. But they are more than just novelty revisionings, having a wealth of their own penned material on hand as well. As I have discovered.

With a modus operandi of always avoiding the obvious, this was apparent from the start by the prominence of trumpet, lead trumpet even, an instrument more reviled than revered in rock and pop, delegated, where I thought it should be, to old man's music like jazz or, within reason, the unison brass parts of soul music. I had utmost suspicion of the instrument, feeling it as uncool as short hair and straight trousers. Until then, just to damn my eyes, short hair and straight trousers came back in. My version of punk coasted into post-punk and an enduring love of Chumbawamba, another band with trumpet, forcing me to swallow my prejudice, luckily also coinciding with the astonishing discovery that jazz was OK too. (And that I preferred jazz trumpet solos to saxophone solos, despite sax being just about allowed a seat at the table of my earlier rockist tastes. And since you ask, Chet more than Miles.)

Rock'n'Roll Lifestyle/Motorcade of Generosity (1994)

Cake I first heard through their astonishing de- and reconstruction of I Will Survive, reeking so of mariachi I had to go and gather that whole style into my body of required and allowable listening. It has been touched on here. I bought the parent record. The second single from their second album, it came out in 1997 and made the indie charts at home, managing a 29 in the UK, and higher in some other european countries. Given their first album was all originals, and largely damned either by faint praise, or just plain damned, this left the band with a dilemma, one that never quite lost them, continuing arguably to be better known for their covers, despite barely doing any others over the next few records. (Having a self-penned song called Jolene on their debut arguably didn't help, allowing the lazy to make assumptions: I certainly downloaded the track on that basis!!) 

The Distance/Fashion Nugget (1996)

Never There/Prolonging the Magic (1998)

In researching this piece I was, therefore a little surprised to see their last record, 2011's Showroom of Compassion actually hit the coveted Billboard #1 slot, if only for a week, albeit based on the then lowest sales to attain that slot. And not a cover in sight. (Well, one, actually.) Also that all the four ahead of that had entirely satisfactory sales, with only the very first failing to make any splash, so bang goes my assertion. But maybe the fact they refused a greatest hits, and released instead the only other record of theirs I own, b-sides and Rarities, which is nearly all cover versions, explains my fallacy. 

Comfort Eagle/Comfort Eagle (2001) 

Sick of You/Showroom of Compassion (2011)

Scattered through this prose are a few of their finest. If you are unfamiliar, listen. If you know them, re-aquaint. The trumpet of Vince DeFiori is certainly not the only cause to celebrate, the caustic and conversational singing of John McCrea, also the main songwriter, being a joyful characteristic of the sound. These two are the sole permanently present members of the band, as they seemed to get through a slew of rhythm sections along the way. Just two lead guitarists, though, with a special mention for Greg Brown, no, not that one, there from the start, who left in 1997, if still making later guest appearances, his spiky playing adding to the overall counter-intuiveness of the whole. But for the last ten years there has been little sight or sound. There was promise of new material as far back as 2018, with only a single video, below, sneaking out. A demo leaked in January this year, so maybe we haven't quite had all our Cake yet. 

Sinking Ship (2018)

Eat some!

Valentines: My Funny Valentine

Miles Davis: My Funny Valentine
[purchase]

What makes a standard a standard? Clearly, there has to be something timeless about the songwriting, and there probably has to be a performance of the song that captures the imagination of other musicians, and through them the interest of their audiences. Certainly, “My Funny Valentine” qualifies as a standard. According to Wikipedia, the song, written by the great team of Rodgers & Hart for the 1937 musical Babes In Arms, appears on more than 1300 albums performed by over 600 artists, ranging from Chet Baker to Miles Davis, to Frank Sinatra, to Ella Fitzgerald to Chaka Khan, to Linda Ronstadt, to Elvis Costello. Apparently, it has become a song that many jazz musicians are sick of; yet it continues to be performed and recorded (although I read somewhere that in the 50s, one New York club owner banned the song).

I think that what makes the song so compelling is that while it is a love song, it isn’t a song where the singer objectifies his or her love. To the contrary, the song is a catalogue of physical imperfections that nevertheless do not detract from the ardor that the singer professes. And since most of us aren’t perfect and fall in love with imperfect people, there’s a universality in this sentiment.

It appears that it took almost two decades for the song to move from Broadway to the Great American Songbook. In fact, when Babes In Arms was made into a movie in 1939 featuring Judy Garland and Mickey Rooney, the future classic wasn’t even used. But a gentle, quiet version of the song, sung in 1954 by the trumpeter Chet Baker (who had performed on an instrumental version with Gerry Mulligan the prior year that was so good that the Library of Congress added to the National Recording Registry in 2015) made the music world reconsider “My Funny Valentine.” Sinatra recorded it the same year, a couple of years later, Miles Davis recorded it with his quintet, and it was off to the races.

In fact, in 1957, the song appeared in the film Pal Joey, which was loosely adapted from Rodgers and Hart's 1940 musical of the same name, despite the fact that it hadn’t appeared in the musical. Sort of a musical make up call.

The version featured above, though, is from My Funny Valentine: Miles Davis in Concert, recorded on February 12, 1964, at the Philharmonic Hall of Lincoln Center in New York City, and in addition to Davis, features Herbie Hancock on piano, Ron Carter on bass, Tony Williams on drums and George Coleman, whose sax solo is remarkable.

I don’t think that we post many 15 minute jazz pieces here, so, when we do, it better be good—and this really is.

BIG BANDS: Colin Steele's Stramash

A change from some recent jottings, as I ease myself back into something at least resembling a comfort zone, avoiding the scatter gun of chuck everything at the browser, hoping some will stick of recent weeks. And, astonishingly, given my floundering ill-preparedly in the sea of big band jazz, this is partly jazz. But partly folk, with a tinge of classical chamber string quartet for good measure, and altogether the best damn piece of recorded music of the last decade. Sure, yeah, and other opinions are available but bear with me. It'll be worth it, I promise.

Colin Steele is a Scottish trumpeter. Trumpet to me is an instrument I always despised, smacking of the worst excesses of jazz, which to me, as a boy, meant Kenny Ball and his Jazzmen. Or it meant the hideous over instrumentation of 60s pop, wherein any and every band had to smothered in brass and strings. Even 'cool' bands ruined their reputations, Love and the Byrds for two, with the infernal parping I now know and love. Strangely, I can't claim it was Miles and Chet that put me right, although, ultimately, they did, it was more Chumbawamba who bludgeoned me into an acceptance of a trumpets worth. Anyhoo, Steele started his career in the late 80s, tinkering in the ranks of maverick Scots experimental soul boys, Hue and Cry, as they threw jazz and Latin into an ever smoother mix. Tiring of that and traveling through Europe, predominantly France, where bebop is still a potent groove, picking up more echoes of funk and worldbeat to his repertoire, he then formed his Quintet, up to now largely orthodox jazz, albeit well-received and acclaimed, within the minnow pool of UK jazz. This is by now the early years of this century. Jazz musicians traditionally don't make money from their muse, relying on outside projects to butter their bread, coming into contact with musicians from other spheres, and there has been a noble tradition of folk-jazz fusion in Scotland. Steele has thus found himself in the ranks of Scottish dance band, the wonderfully named Ceilidh Minogue and the unclassifiable The Unusual Suspects, themselves who could have been a shoo-in for this fortnights theme. But never had their been anything with with solo trumpet as a lead instrument.

"Stramash" burst into being after a visit to the Festival Interceltique, L'Orient in France, 2008, having immersed himself in Islay island life to prepare this immaculate gem. The folk purists at this meeting of the Celtic nations initially turned their noses up at this jazz trumpeter invading their domain, but not for long. The record followed in 2009, and was garlanded with accolades, becoming the Guardian national newspapers Jazz album of that year. Here's a wonderful review from All About Jazz. "Stramash" is a Scottish word meaning commotion or kerfuffle and is so apposite for the joyful ensemble pieces that flit between genre, effortlessly interwoven and interlinked. Enough of this, ye'll be wanting some music. Trumpet, sax, piano, bass, drums? Check. String quartet? Check. Fiddle and bagpipes? Check.....

3 consummate excerpts. I request you, nay, I require you to tarry no longer,
Buy it!!!!

Horns: I've Grown Accustomed To Her Face

Chet Baker: I've Grown Accustomed To Her Face

I'm not going to offer anything new from when I first posted this.

It's out of print* and full of scratchy-ness... If you can't dig that, mama, then you're outta my mind. Almost as much as Chet was out of his, back then.

But, you're still beautiful. Almost as much as Chet was...

...back then.

*Darius found it in print: See comments for a purchase link.