Taking a break

Songs For Swingin' Lovers; Frank Sinatra.

It’s a beautiful summer day in South Dakota here in Maryland. I can’t stay indoors. So I’m playing hooky. I’m going AWOL. I’m going to ply a little bit of truancy. I’m bunkin’. I’m ditchin’, I’m slackin’, I’m skippin’. I’m taking a personal day. Please forgive me.

And while I’m doing all of those things, I will be listening to Frank Sinatra’s “Songs For Swinging’ Lovers”. In my opinion, this is one of his most successful albums. Everything swings, just like the title claims. Isn’t it nice to indulge once in a while in something that actually delivers what it proclaims?

Credits: To you, again, dear reader, for letting me take the day of off. The birds are singing, the grass and leaves are green, and I gotta’ get out there and enjoy it before the temperature ruins it all by getting up in the 80’s. Have a good day. On me.

Boredom in Paradise

20; Harry Connick, Jr.

I have to admit that the scene I stepped into when I joined the crew and band on board the S.S. Oceanic at Port Canaveral shortly after the new year in 1991 more closely resembled the vision I had in mind when I first conceived of the idea of cruise ship musician. Clear water, white sand, palm trees and hammocks; barbeques, colored drinks with little umbrellas and Calypso music; late night buffet, evening star-lit skies and refreshing tropical breezes. Aaaaaaaaaahhhhh. Paradise.

Well, for a while. I made friends quickly. I had my own room. The person who occupied my room before me had bunked the bed so that it sat level with the port-hole window. The first thing I saw when I woke up in the morning was the sea. We had every Saturday off. The band was outstanding, the food was delicious, the weather was terrific, the scenery was beautiful, the snorkeling was wonderful. Yadda. Yadda. Yadda, yadda, yadda.

The first ship I worked on, the Golden Odyssey, had blown all of my pre-conceived ideas of cruising out of the water. Centuries old cobblestone streets as opposed to sand and surf; museums, cathedrals and castles instead of grass thatched shacks and gaudy casinos; filet mignon, consommé and capers as an alternative to hotdogs, jerk chicken and Jamaican rice. Rome, Venice, Istanbul, Athens, Barcelona, Lisbon and Yalta vs. Cocoa Beach, Florida, and Nassau in The Bahamas.

The template for our itinerary had been laid out long before I arrived. Mondays and Fridays at Cape Canaveral; Sundays, Tuesdays, Wednesdays and Saturdays in Nassau; Thursdays at sea. It only took two weeks for me to realize that boredom and misery were on their way.

I called my contractor and said, I will honor and finish my contract with you and serve on this ship for as long as I said I would. But, after that, I gotta’ go someplace else. I’m going to go stir crazy here. “Well, there’s an opening on the Crown Odyssey in the middle of July. You would meet the ship in London. How does that sound?” Ooooohhh, yeeeeeeaaaaaahhhhhh, baby. That’s more like it. Thank you.

So over the course of the first twenty weeks of 1991, I went to the Bahamas forty times. And, with each passing week, grew more and more jaded with the impression that I had formulated of paradise.

To give myself something to do, I decided to transcribe one of the piano solos from the album “20” by Harry Connick, Jr. “Avalon” stopped me in my tracks the first time I heard it. It struck me as the quintessential improvisation. He played the tune in the style of New Orleans jazz pianist James Booker and, for all its rambunctiousness, made no mistakes.

Al Jolson, Buddy DeSylva, and Vincent Rose “wrote” “Avalon” in 1920, and several people, including Jolson, of course, have recorded it over the years. I say “wrote” because they lifted the melody from the aria “E Lucevan le Stelle” from Pucinni’s opera “Tosca”. Mr. Pucinni’s publishers sued Jolson and his friends for use of the melody and were awarded twenty-five thousand dollars and all subsequent royalties of the song.

Transcribe means exactly that; to write down, note for note, what the man improvised on the recording. It took me four weeks and ten sheets of staff paper to finish the job. And I did it away from the piano, strictly through listening.

The itinerary on the Crown Odyssey suited me much better than my time on Premier Cruise Line’s Oceanic. Premier Cruise Line gave up the ghost in 2000 and a Japanese cruise line bought the Oceanic.

All things being equal, I have nothing against the beach and palm trees. I just don’t need to go to them. A picture will do just fine.

Credits: To Al Jolson, for his resolve to “never leave the stage until everyone in the audience has been entertained within an inch of their lives.” Thank you for “Avalon” and “The Jazz Singer”.

A perfect afternoon in Oslo

Johannes Brahms: Sonatas for Viola and Piano, Op. 120; Lars Anders Tomter, viola; Leif Ove Andsnes, piano

I found this recording of Sonatas for Piano and Viola (or Clarinet) by Johannes Brahms at a CD store in Stockholm, Sweden, in August of 1993. But I didn’t have time to listen to it until I got to Oslo, three days later.

Both of the artists featured on this album come from Norway. Being Norwegian, myself, I almost felt it imperative, not only for my sake, but for the sake of millions of other Norwegian-Americans who would probably never have the opportunity to visit the land of their fathers and mothers – the Holy Land to the North - to listen to a CD of Norwegians while actually visiting Norwegia. When we finally arrived in Oslo, and as soon as the Crown Odyssey passengers had disembarked for their excursions, I headed for the park.

I keep the word “perfect” in a gleaming silver box, lined inside with red velvet, in the back of my sock drawer, under the socks that I never wear because I wash my others before I need to wear those. I almost never take it out. That Sunday in the park in Oslo was perfect. Not a cloud in the sky, mildly breezy, about sixty-five degrees, and every single Oslosian came out to the park for a stroll, a run, a round of Frisbee or a rendezvous with the sun.

I grabbed myself a rumpful of bench underneath an evergreen tree on the outskirts of Frogner Park, slapped some Norwegian Brahms inside my Sony Discman, and allowed these two native sons to compound the perfect with the sublime. At times like these, I am reminded that the great music masters composed beyond consideration of performance venue.

They didn’t write music in order to embellish carpeted cinder blocks with calculated acoustics. Herr Brahms and his musical “brothers” heard music in their heads, that they wanted in your head, but not just for the amount of time that it takes to perform it. They wanted their music to abide in your soul, in your biological iPod, so that you could – so that you can - mentally call it up while you’re hanging out laundry, going to market, preparing dinner, looking at clouds, wandering through a meadow, gazing at the moon or loitering in a park.

Music is for people, not for buildings. What does it do for you?

Music provides me with a sixth sense; a framework from which I can recall people, places, and events, ordinary and monumental.

A few weeks before visiting Oslo on that awesome Sunday afternoon, I happened upon a Saturday afternoon concert where a chamber orchestra and two trumpet players were performing Vivaldi’s Concerto for Two Trumpets in C Major on a floating pontoon stage in the harbour a few yards off shore in Copenhagen, Denmark. The performance was marvelous. Do you know why I remember it? Upon completion of their performance and after acknowledgement of their applause, they tossed their trumpets to a couple of violinists, quickly doffed their jackets and plunged into the water. Now THAT’S what I’m talkin’ about!!

Credits: To the builders of that bench in Frogner Park in Oslo. That might have been the crowning element that brought perfection to a happening scene. Anyway, it showed up when I needed it. Thank you.

Oreos rock!

Classical Gas; Mason Williams and Mannheim Steamroller

Tuesday night was Oreo night during my senior year at SDSU. Our fixation with Oreos had begun a few years before, but the tradition of Oreos on Tuesdays started when Mark took the job to sit late night desk at Matthews Hall dormitory. Sam, Greg and I would make a milk and Oreo run at around half past nine, then we’d meet up with Mark at ten o’clock and indulge in one of the most delicious, successful and satisfying combination of two food groups ever fused by any human being, anywhere, anytime, anyplace. Oh, Oh, Oh …

Ice cold milk and an Oreo Cookie

They forever go together

They’re a classic combination

When the dark delicious chocolate

Meets an icy cold sensation

It’s the one and only creamy,

Crunchy, chocolate, O-R-E-O

Keeps your milk from getting lonely

Nabisco. "ding"

I had known Mark and Greg from when they played trombone in the Pride of the Dakotas Marching Band. Greg’s roommate Sam came as a bonus. And I don’t use the term bonus lightly. Sam’s dad owned a music store up in Aberdeen, South Dakota, and he sold me my first keyboard in 1992.

Dad and I had taken a trip to Aberdeen specifically to outfit me with a quality keyboard before I moved to Orlando. I bought a Roland f-p8 at a price of two thousand dollars. I think Dad almost self combusted when he realized how much I was willing to pay for a keyboard, but he didn’t say anything. He DID tell me, however, that he had mentioned our keyboard expedition around coffee at the grain elevator a few days later. Our neighbor, Rolf, responded with, “Well, I hear that if you can afford one of those fancy ones, they can cost up to two hundred dollars.” Dad decided to keep the price of my keyboard to himself.

Now and then, Sam’s dad would hook Sam up with something interesting from the CD rack in his store. So, during one visit to Sam and Greg’s dorm room, Sam threw a CD in my lap. “Check this out. I think you’ll like it.”

Composer, guitarist, comedy writer and author Mason Williams recorded the tune and album “Classical Gas” in 1968. At the time, he served as the head writer for “The Smothers Brothers Comedy Hour” where he received and honored several opportunities to perform the song on the show. The song caused a sensation, and it climbed its way to the number two spot on American charts very quickly, selling over a million copies along the way.

Almost twenty years later, in 1987, Mannheim Steamroller and Mason Williams teamed up to re-record “Classical Gas” and many other songs from his tome. This is the version of the song that fell into my lap in the dorm-cave of Greg and Sam. They played the CD for me while I became hypnotized by the cover.

In 1970, Mr. Williams made an appearance as the musical guest on a variety show that reunited regulars of “The Smothers Brothers Comedy Hour”. As a visual stimulant, he asked a prop designer for ABC TV to build a plexiglass guitar for his performance of “Classical Gas” on which he finger-synced the song for the show … but not before filling the guitar with water. And goldfish.

Mr. Williams kept the guitar from so long ago and used it for the cover of his album with Mannheim Steamroller. Maybe I should take a cue from Mason Williams and Liberace and have a plexiglass piano made for me. And fill it up with milk. And Oreos.

Credits: To Beth B., who made a giant Oreo cake for my college graduation party. We’ve talked about that cake for years. Can you bake me a giant Hostess Twinkie cake for my 45^th birthday?

My Funny Valentine

The Palo Alto Sessions - 1981 - 1985; Dianne Reeves, vocals

Inevitably, whenever I play a Valentine’s Day gig, some hipster approaches the piano and asks, “Hey, can you play ‘My Funny Valentine’?” I nod and say, Sure. But, inside, I’m saying, “My Funny Valentine” isn’t a Valentine’s Day song, friend.

Today, I blog before you to inform the uninformed. “My Funny Valentine” comes from the Broadway show “Babes In Arms” with music by Richard Rodgers and lyrics by Lorenz Hart. In the show, the character Billie Smith sings “My Funny Valentine” to her friend Valentine “Val” LaMar. His mannerisms and attributes make her smile and she considers him … funny.

My funny Valentine

Sweet comic Valentine

You make me smile with my heart

Your looks are laughable

Unphotographable

Yet you’re my favorite work of art

Is your figure less than Greek

Is your mouth a little weak

When you open it to speak

Are you smart?

But don’t change a hair for me

Not if you care for me

Stay, little Valentine stay

Each day is Valentine’s day

Dianne Reeves recorded this Rodgers and Hart treasure earlier in her career on the Palo Alto Jazz label. Most of the tracks on this label-compilation album date from the early 1980’s. Although this recording finds Ms. Reeves at an early stage of musical and vocal development, you can hear stardom and artistry in the making. It’s kind of like looking at someone’s old high school yearbooks.

“Babes In Arms” also featured the songs “Where Or When”, “The Lady Is A Tramp”, “Johnny One Note” and “I Wish I Were In Love Again”. Boy, they just don’t write them like that anymore, do they?

Credits: To Lorenz Hart, for artful lyrics. Rhyming “Your looks are laughable” with “Unphotographable”? Genius! Thank you.

Ten Year Old Pictures

Symphony No. 4; Gustav Mahler, composer; Cleveland Orchestra; Dawn Upshaw, soprano; Christoph von Dohnanyi, conducting

Judy R. taught either my kindergarten or first grade Sunday School class. I don’t remember which one. I also don’t remember that she read the first few chapters of Genesis to us in class one Sunday, after which, apparently, she had all of us draw a picture of the Garden of Eden. She kept the drawings.

About ten years later, when my classmates and I were tenth graders, Mrs. R. again held the reins in our Sunday School class. We liked Mrs. R. just as much in our tenth grade as we did in our earlier days. Her own kids kept her young and, from that, I suspect, she related to us very easily and very naturally.

One Sunday, she read the first few chapters of Genesis to us. She asked us if anybody had read those chapters to us before. None of us remembered that anybody specifically had done so. She then asked us, “What would you think if I told you that I had done exactly that to your class almost ten years ago to the day?”

Then she took out our drawings and gave them back to us. We really couldn’t believe this. We all considered it kind of freaky and strange. How had she orchestrated this? Had she planned to do this from the day we were born? Had she made a back-door deal with the Sunday School superintendent ten years before, assuring her that she would teach our class at these two times? Did her house have a time-warp in the basement?

All of these considerations disintegrated expeditiously, however, when I glanced at my drawing. To my utter horror and corporeal mortification, my sketch of the Garden of Eden included a row of carrots, a row of cabbages, some tomatoes, watermelon and pumpkins with a smiling Adam and Eve standing off to the side wearing overalls and holding hands.

Musicians through the years have dubbed Gustav Mahler’s first four symphonies the “Wunderhorn” symphonies because so many of their musical themes come directly from a set of earlier songs by the late romantic composer called “Des Knaben Wunderhorn” or “The Youth’s Magic Horn”. The master’s Symphony No. 4 is built around a single song from the set called “Das himmlische Leben” or “Life in Heaven”. The tune appears in fragmented portions sporadically during the first three movements, but is sung in its entirety by a solo soprano in the fourth movement. The text of the song presents a child’s vision of heaven. The last segment of the poem:

There is just no music on earth

That can compare to ours.

Even the eleven thousand virgins

Venture to dance,

And Saint Ursula herself has to laugh.

There is just no music on earth

That can compare to ours.

Cecilia and all her relations

Make excellent court musicians.

The angelic voices

Gladden our senses,

So that all awaken for joy.

Yeah, I don’t know. The music of Herr Mahler’s masterwork brushes the gates of heaven itself, for sure. But this kid’s perception of the hereafter waxes vaguely and nebulously of virgins and dancing and laughing and … Cecilia? At least in my Garden of Eden, you know what you’re gettin’ for supper.

Credits: To Mrs. R., for Sunday School classes and Saturday afternoon Christmas program rehearsals. You are one of a kind.

Walkin'

These Boots Are Made For Walkin'; Nancy Sinatra

My “Music from the 30’s, 40’s, 50’s and 60’s” gig continues to haunt my iPod. For this job, to listen to and learn, I also downloaded “These Boots Are Made For Walkin’”, all-time greatest hit of Nancy Sinatra. Oddly enough, I don’t remember if we actually played it. I remember that I intended to avoid playing it if I could. In the back of my mind, I’ve always wondered what the point is in playing this tune if I don’t get to hear sassy Nancy’s pouty voice licking threats all over my ear of “walkin’” – and probably some stompin’, kickin’ and not a little scuffin’ –if’n I don’t behave. Oooo, baby, that’s-a-what I like!

Big Daddy-O Frank Sinatra’s record label, Reprise Records, released Ms. Nancy’s debut album called “Boots” in February of 1966. “These Boots…” hit number one on both US and UK pop charts. Lee Hazlewood wrote the song. At the recording session, Mr. Hazlewood encouraged Nancy to sing the song as if she were a sixteen-year-old girl giving the brush off to a forty-year-old man.

Upon initial release, some thought the song had to do with the subway strike in New York City. The troops in the Vietnam War quickly adopted the song for when they marched. Ms. Sinatra traveled there in the late 1960’s to perform for the US soldiers.

I would suppose Nancy and Frank performed this song together a number of times over the course of their careers. I happened to see them sing “These Boots Are Made For Walkin’” on a video tape of Mr. Sinatra’s 1966 television special “Frank Sinatra: A Man and His Music – Part II”.

When I played with the Baltimore Symphony Orchestra on their “Pops Goes Vegas” concerts in March of 2008, the show included impersonators of Frank Sinatra, Elvis Presley and Liberace. The Liberace impersonator was spot on with both the piano playing and the persona.

To close the first half of the show, a medley of tunes brought each performer out to the front of the audience to sing just a little snippet of a song. When it was his turn, Liberace floateded out onto the stage, caped, wearing a bright red leather cowboy suit, absolutely littered with glittering stones, sporting some ridiculous red boots and accessorized by a gleaming, glistening, dazzling, twinkling, sparkling smile. What do you suppose he sang? Uh-huh. The surreality of a smiling, rhinestone-clad cowboy man completely and utterly disarming the penultimate pre-emptive bitchslap song in a matter of twenty-five seconds was a wonder to behold.

Credits: To Liberace, Mr. Showmanship and an all-around fantastic pianist. The generosity of your scholarship foundation has brought life to the dreams of young pianists all across the country. Bravo. And thank you.