Mr. Shickley. Hey man, I'm hip, I'm hep, I'm ready to step. Here's the theme.
Hello there, I'm Peter Shickley and this is Shickley Mix, a program dedicated to
the proposition that all musics are created equal, or as Duke Ellington put it,
if it sounds good, it is good. And goodness gracious, it's good to be able
to report with gratitude that our bills are paid by the Corporation for Public
Broadcasting, by the National Endowment for the Arts, and by this really with it
radio station, where I'm provided with this swinging studio whence emanate the
cool sounds that are distributed to hep stations all over the place by PRI,
Public Radio International. It's an old cliche among musicians that when you're
tuning up for a rehearsal or a performance, when you're done tuning up
you say, good enough for jazz, or in some circles, close enough for jazz. That of
course reflects an assumed snobbery on the part of classical musicians towards
jazz, an attitude of disparagement, or it's often quite clever and even
charming, but certainly not to be taken seriously. On another edition of Shickley
Mix, dealing with the influence of jazz on classical music, we heard part of
Shostakovich's Jazz Suite No. 2, which has nothing to do with jazz as most of
us think of it. I mean, it has a Sousa-like march and a polka, and
obviously jazz in that title simply means light music, and we're talking L-I-T-E.
But many composers have had a healthy respect for jazz and have allowed it to
become a substantial influence on their style, rather than simply a spice that
they throw in occasionally to curry favor, as it were. Kurt Weill said that he
made no distinction between serious and light music, just good and bad. And on
that other program I mentioned, we did hear some examples of music by classical
composers who were really changed, not just tickled, by jazz and its older
relative ragtime. But today we're going to take it a step farther. This show is
one I ought to save for Sweeps Week, folks. No, it's not your old hat stuff
like veterinarians who love their patients more than their own pets, or
belly dancers who sleep with their accountant's ex-brother's-in-law. Today's
show is about classically trained composers who write for jazz ensembles. A
lot of people don't realize what they go through. And as a special bonus, we have a
live jazz ensemble right here in the studio today. And when I say jazz
ensemble, I don't mean a piano trio from the local hotel, either. I mean a big band.
That's right, folks. There must be, what, about 20 guys in here. We actually had to
take the whole storage cabinet for 45s out into the hall to fit everybody into
the studio. Anyway, they're going to play our tidbit for us later in the show. So
just hang in there, fellas. It'll be a while yet. Before we hear from the live
band, we're going to hear recordings of two miniature masterpieces for jazz band.
They were both written by classically trained composers who left little or no
room for improvisation, but the results are extremely different from one another.
In the first piece, the jazz influence is as much textural as anything else.
Stravinsky was over 60 when he wrote the Ebony Concerto for Woody Herman's band in
1945. Uncle Igor, for all his supposed changes of style, always had a strong
musical personality. Whether he was using material by 18th century Italian
composers, Tchaikovsky, or Russian folk songs, it always came out sounding like
Stravinsky, and the Ebony Concerto is no exception. He may have heard black bands
in Harlem, Chicago, and New Orleans, and he may have listened to Woody Herman's
recordings, but the Ebony Concerto is not jazz. It's Stravinsky. Stravinsky once
again, as he had been before, perked up, invigorated, put on his toes by jazz.
Here's the first movement of the Ebony Concerto preceded by one of the Woody
Herman numbers that Stravinsky is known to have listened to.
Here's the first movement of the Ebony Concerto preceded by one of the Woody Herman numbers that Stravinsky is known to have listened to.
It has been quite correctly observed that the symphony in three movements harkens back in many ways to the Rite of Spring and the Symphonies of Wind instruments, written two and three decades earlier.
But there's also quite a bit of jazz influence, and not the earlier ragtime-y jazz, but big band jazz of the 40s.
Listen to the end of the whole symphony.
In his later years, Stravinsky said that that last chord was a bit too commercial. And I guess I know what he means, but I don't know. I kind of like it.
I guess it's just because I'm so gall-durn American. And if you want commercial, you, yes you, have come to the right place.
I happen to have, right now, in stock, a lovely Db6add9 chord that has hardly ever been used, at least in the concert hall, and I am willing to part with this beauty for a mere...
What? What? The irrelevancy alarm? I'm talking about Stravinsky's symphony.
Let's see what the printout says.
Just as the artistic depiction of boredom must not be too boring, so when dealing with tastelessness, there is a limit...
Oh, come on. That is such bourgeois.
Well, let's get back to the Ebony Concerto. And speaking of alarms, I better activate the very old recording alert here.
I might as well do it myself before I put the record on.
I mentioned that the Ebony Concerto was written for Woody Herman. Here's the second movement, as performed by the Woody Herman Orchestra.
As far as I know, this has not been reissued on CD in either a classical or jazz series.
Jazz. If this is jazz, the Volga boatmen are hipsters.
The Volga boatmen
Igor Stravinsky conducting the Woody Herman Orchestra in the middle movement of his Ebony Concerto.
I wonder if the harp player was wearing a zoot suit.
By the way, you know when I make remarks like, if this is jazz, Ivan the Terrible is going to win the downbeat poll, and things like that,
regular listeners to this program know that I don't tend to get too head up about nomenclature.
I'm not about to get into any fistfights about what's jazz and what isn't.
What I'm doing is I'm just setting up the observation that of the two main pieces on today's program,
the two pieces we're going to hear all of, when you hear the second piece, which we will do later on,
the first thing you think is jazz.
Whereas when you hear the Ebony Concerto, the first thing you think is Stravinsky.
I love that second movement.
So what makes the Stravinsky jazzy at all, if it is?
Is it the saxophones?
Here's a piece with saxophone that I don't think anybody would call jazz.
Part of Webern's Quartet Op. 22 for violin, clarinet, tenor saxophone, and piano.
Lively, but not exactly a finger snapper.
The sax is totally integrated into the texture, and it is a solo saxophone.
I think that's actually an important point, jazz influence-wise speaking.
There's a small but significant classical repertoire for solo saxophone,
but when you hear a sax section, you're almost bound to think of a jazz band,
because that's the only place you've ever really heard one.
The traditional marching band may have saxes, but they are rarely featured.
They're more like cornstarch.
What they do, if you really want to know, is double the bassoons all the time.
Okay, mustn't get bitter here. My high school band days are over.
Sax sections do tend to evoke the aroma of jazz.
Here's the beginning of a classical piece that employs what the composer himself calls
a lounge lizard saxophone section.
.
The first three minutes of Fearful Symmetries by John Adams,
who was conducting the Orchestra of St. Luke's.
Very nice piece. Unfortunately for this show, it's 28 minutes long,
which, by the way, is considerably longer than I should go without identifying myself.
My name is... Okay, fellas, please be patient.
It's not time for you to play yet, but it won't be long.
I know it's a long time for 20 guys to sit in a studio this small without making any noise.
You folks are just doing terrific, but we just have to do a little bit more here.
My name is Peter Jazzbo Shickley,
and the program is Shickley Mix from PRI, Public Radio International.
Today's show is called Good Enough for Jazz.
Classical composers writing important pieces, whatever that means, for jazz bands.
Using jazz textures and phrasing.
If necessary, studying saxophone fingerings,
as Stravinsky did while working on the Ebony Concerto.
Using lots of drums, nothing new to Igor.
Learning the habits of jazz players.
Unlike classical musicians, jazzers are not used to the eighth note being the basic beat,
so Stravinsky had to recopy the whole first movement,
doubling the note values to make the quarter note the beat.
But above all, taking jazz seriously.
Putting your soul into it.
Even if, like Stravinsky, your soul comes from St. Petersburg.
Stringed Instrumental Music
The third and last movement of Igor Stravinsky's Ebony Concerto,
with Benny Goodman and the Columbia Jazz Combo under the direction of the composer.
I wonder if Igor led the band the way you're supposed to,
you know, with your back to the band looking out at the dancers, giving them a face to look at.
Remember back at the top of the show when I played Woody Herman's Goosey Gander
and said it was one of the records Stravinsky studied?
Well, I can't resist laying a pair of excerpts on you here.
The first from Goosey Gander and the second from the Ebony Concerto.
Here's Woody.
Stringed Instrumental Music
And here's Igor.
Stringed Instrumental Music
Coincidence or deja vu-do, you be the judge.
Okay, now, finally, we come to the other major.
Guys, I'm afraid you can't smoke in here.
I know it's a long time to wait, but there's a building rule.
I mean, you can't smoke anywhere in this building.
It won't be too long now. Let's see.
Just two more numbers and then you'll get to play, okay?
I appreciate your patience.
All right, the next piece, our other major work, was also written by a classically trained composer.
It is also for jazz band, but it too ignores the strong tradition of improvisation in jazz.
In other words, classical composers of the last couple of hundred years have tended to be control freaks.
But this composer was born 36 years later than Stravinsky, and he was American, very American.
So even though he may use a classical form like the fugue, which is an imitative form like a round,
his piece does not simply have a jazz flavor.
His piece is soaked, steeped, marinated in the gestures of big band jazz.
Three movements, eight minutes. See you then.
...
..
Leonard Bernstein leading the Columbia jazz combo in his Prelude, Fugue and Riffs
with Benny Goodman on solo clarinet.
The piece certainly swings more than the Stravinsky,
although I must say that if we're talking about influences,
I think that it owes almost as much to Stravinsky as it does to jazz.
Old Igor threw a long shadow.
You can see it on the pages of John Adams' piece as well.
I know that I, as a composer, have noticed a certain blockage of light on occasion
attributable to the same source.
My name, by the way, is Peter Shickley, and the show is Shickley Mix from PRI,
Public Radio International. Hey, it's good enough for jazz.
In fact, if it's good enough for jazz, it's good enough for classical.
Now, I think that the prelude, fugue, and riffs is one of Bernstein's best pieces,
but you don't hear it on symphony programs. Why?
Well, in the first place, some of the instruments it uses aren't a regular part of the symphony orchestra.
The saxes and the drum kit are trap set,
but also, you may need other players even for the instruments you do have.
A lot of perfectly good symphonic trumpeters, for instance,
don't sound idiomatic playing jazz licks. The phrasing is different, even the sound is different.
You need to have players who are used to that kind of play.
That's right, fellas, cats like yourselves.
I know, it's been, it's a long time to sit here in the studio without doing anything, I know that.
It'll be just one more number, okay? And then you guys are on.
I'm sure you'll blow us all away, and we're all looking forward to.
Anyway, back to the Bernstein.
It's also true that there are still a lot of symphony goers who either don't like jazz,
or feel it shouldn't be mixed in with symphonic music.
It's okay as long as it sits at the back of the bus.
Eh, maybe I'm not being fair. Maybe jazz doesn't belong on a symphony program.
Not because of inferiority, but simply incompatibility. What do I know? I'm from the Midwest.
The funny thing is that as jazzy as that Bernstein piece is,
to a real jazz person, it isn't jazz, because of the lack of improvisation.
Now, I don't know that score. I don't know if there's maybe some improvisation in the drums and,
and bass or something like that. But basically, this is a written out piece.
I've listened to different recordings. To illustrate the difference,
let's take the most classical form that Lenny used, the fugue.
Here's another fugue. In fact, this piece is called
The Fugue. Now this is jazz.
Okay, the University of North Texas two o'clock lab band,
not bad for a bunch of kids, playing Slide Hampton's The Fugue.
The landscape feels quite different from the Bernstein piece because of the improvised solos.
They really open it up and make it feel emotionally more direct.
It's like the difference between a symphony and an opera,
a melody being played by a violin section with 12, 14 players,
as opposed to a melody being sung by a solo soprano who steps downstage and faces the audience.
I know a lot of modern opera directors don't approve of such primitive stagecraft,
but at the right time, there is nothing more powerful.
I'm not making value judgments here, by the way.
I don't think operas are inherently better than symphonies,
nor that improvised music is better than written-out music.
Each genre has its strengths and weaknesses. As a matter of fact,
it seems to me that the fugal aspects of the Slide Hampton piece make it feel
a little bit like a novelty number. The Bach-ish style of the fugal sections
is so completely separate from the other sections and the improvised solos in every way.
The only combination of fugue and improvisation that has felt convincing to me
has been in some of the work of the Modern Jazz Quartet.
Like I say, each kind of music has its delights.
And speaking of delights, it's tidbit time on the old bandstand.
That's right, guys. Get ready to roll.
It's time for our live 20-piece band to show us just how widespread
the influence of big band jazz is. They've come a long way.
And I want to tell you, gentlemen, that it's a real treat for us
to have some live music here on Shickily Mix.
You all set? Okay, take it away.
BAND PLAYS
♪
All right!
Fumio Matsumoto and Music Makers
doing their swingin' version of
Kagome Kagome, A Bird in a Basket
and I might add, A Feather in the Cap
of Sickly Mix.
They came all the way here from Japan.
Thanks an awful lot, fellas.
And I really do appreciate your patience here while we...
♪
Hello?
Yeah?
What do you mean?
They're right here in the studio.
They are, too?
What makes you...
Oh, okay, listen.
I'm going to speak very softly here
so only you can hear me, okay?
That needle drop and surface noise,
I actually added those sounds
to their performance
because these guys don't have green cards yet.
And, you know, if the Immigration Service
hears this program, I can always say
that it was really a recording.
Right.
That's it exactly.
That's okay.
Okay, take care.
Okay, Fumio Matsumoto and Music Makers here.
I've got a little handout of the pieces they do and everything.
It says,
Enjoy Japanese melodies in our own rhythm
and feeling we have received many of such requests
from the American people and others.
We present this selection of Japanese tunes
played in Latin and other foreign rhythms
to satisfy those desire.
And let's see, in addition to the regular big band instruments,
it's got, it says,
Japanese traditional instruments such as koto, harp,
shamisen, three-strings guitar,
and narumono, drums and flute,
joined in the orchestra,
would charm you with their characteristic sounds.
Well, they certainly would.
And as a matter of fact,
I think we've got time for another number here.
Let's see, here's the list of songs.
We've got the handball song,
rolling straw bags,
a bird in the basket, that's the one we heard,
pass through the gate, please,
little loach, little carp, that sounds like a good one.
Fumio, why don't we do that one?
Oh, man.
Hello?
What?
There's somebody down there right now?
He's coming up?
He's from the what service?
Okay.
Fumio, you know, I think maybe you guys should leave after hall.
We're a little bit short of time here.
As a matter of fact, there is a fire escape
right down at the end of the hall.
Let me get the theme on here, it's a little early,
let me get the theme on here, and I'll show you where it is.
¦
And that's Sickly Mix for this week.
Our program is made possible with funds provided
by the Corporation for Public Broadcasting,
by the National Endowment for the Arts,
and by this radio station and its members.
Thank you, members.
And our program is distributed by PRI,
Public Radio International.
We'll tell you in a moment how you can get an official playlist
of all the music on today's program
with album numbers and everything.
Just refer to the program number, and folks,
this is program number 100.
And this is Peter Sickly saying goodbye
and reminding you that it don't mean a thing
if it ain't got that certain je ne sais quoi.
You're looking good. See you next week.
¦
If you'd like a copy of that playlist I mentioned,
send a stamped, self-addressed envelope to Sickly Mix.
That's S-C-H-I-C-K-E-L-E, Sickly Mix.
Care of Public Radio International,
100 North 6th Street, Suite 900A, Minneapolis, MN 55403.