By Bill Kirchner
Virtually every big band of the swing era functioned first and foremost as a dance band. The best postwar bands functioned as concert ensembles that also played for dancing. Jazz, whether it was played by a small or big band, was becoming a music for listeners, serious and otherwise.
The War, and other modifiers
Many factors led to the change. World War II forced musicians into the armed services, and gas rationing made it tough for surviving big bands to tour. Also during the war years, the ban on recording ordered by the musicians union in its fight for royalties from radio airplay kept a lot of people out of work until the issue was resolved.
Then came the postwar recession, a 20 percent tax on “entertainment” (big band music for dancing or that included singers), and the advent of television as a major source of amusem*nt. The result was less and less work for dance-oriented bands. But something else was changing. Writers, arrangers and big band-leaders were developing artistic goals that took them beyond the usual bounds of popular music.
A strange brew
A pioneer of the immediate postwar period was Boyd Raeburn, a marginal saxophonist and former commercial dance band leader. During his big band’s heyday (1944—48), Raeburn employed many of the finest jazz musicians of the time, including Dizzy Gillespie, Al Cohn, Lucky Thompson, Serge Chaloff, Frank Socolow, Johnny Mandel and Buddy DeFraneo. And he gave free rein to his advanced arrangers: Eddie Finckel, Johnny Richards, and most importantly, George Handy. Despite the big band’s talent, the music was just too strange for its time.
Gillespie’s own big band experiments fared somewhat better. After an abortive beginning in 1945, a new group formed in 1946 gave voice to such innovative writers as Gil Fuller, Tadd Dameron, George Russell and John Lewis, and succeeded in transferring some of Gillespie’s and Charlie Parker’s innovations to a large ensemble.
He kept it together for four years, thanks in part to his flamboyant personality and the fact that he was at the height of his playing powers. Dizzy continued to record and tour sporadically with large groups for the rest of his life, including two State Department tours in 1956 and 1958 with a big band that included Lee Morgan, Phil Woods, Benny Golson and Wynton Kelly. Some say he sounded best with a full bandstand behind him.
The Stan Kenton controversy
But leading a big band in the late forties and early fifties wasn’t simply a matter of success or failure—some bands generated serious controversy and strong emotions over the music they played. The “progressive” sound of the Stan Kenton big band was a prime example. They were phenomenally popular, due in part to Kenton’s considerable flair for public relations and the strong support of Capitol Records. But it was not uncommon at the time for listeners to also hate the Kenton big band.
At any given period, though, the Kenton ensembles played much that was praiseworthy and, in some cases, genuinely original. For example, Bob Graettinger’s “City of Glass,” recorded in 1951 by the “innovations” edition that included French horns and a large string section, remains even today a startling listening experience. In general, Kenton was a shrewd judge of talent in both players (Art Pepper, Shelly Manne, Maynard Ferguson, Frank Rosolino, Lee Konitz, Zoot Sims, Mel Lewis) and writers (Pete Rugolo, Shorty Rogers, Graettinger, Gerry Mulligan, Bill Russo, Bill Holman), and was generous in his support.
Duke Ellington, Count Basie, and other swing era greats
Those are just a few of the new big bands that sprang up right after the big band era supposedly came to a close. But what happened to the giants of’ the swing era? For both Duke Ellington and Count Basie, some years had to pass before they would be taken seriously again.
Duke Ellington went through a long period of transition (1945-55) when the big band was taken for granted and regarded by some as a bit old-fashioned. Personnel shifted, too: longtime drummer Sonny Greer left in 1951 and was replaced by Louis Bellson, and Johnny Hodges was absent from 1951 to ’55. Even so, there was much genuine achievement, including a series of Carnegie Hall concerts and, in 1951, what this writer would argue was Ellington’s single greatest composition, “A Tone Parallel to Harlem.”
After its 1956 triumph at the Newport Jazz Festival, the Duke Ellington band enjoyed renewed prestige and a creative burst that lasted until the death of Billy Strayhorn in 1967. The loss of Strayhorn and other key members led to a gradual decline in the Ellington big band until Duke’s death in 1974.
Count Basie re-born
Often, a distinction is made between two separate eras of the Count Basie Orchestra: the “Old Testament” period with innovative soloists like Lester Young and loose “head” arrangements, and the “New Testament” post-1951 period with modernized writing and tight ensemble playing.
In truth, there was a long transitional period in the forties highlighted by such scores as Jimmy Mundy’s “Queer Street” (1945) and J. J. Johnson’s “Rambo” (1946). For a time, Basie abandoned the big band and sealed down to a septet (including Clark Terry, Wardell Gray and Buddy DeFranco). But when he re-formed the big band, it quickly became one of the most distinctive ensembles in jazz and much of its most creative output is documented in two Mosaic Roulette collections.
And if Count Basie’s two lives seem remarkable, consider Woody Herman.
When he disbanded his First Herd late in 1946, listeners mourned the loss. In less than. a year, though, Woody Herman put together his famed Second Herd. The “Four Brothers” band included Stan Getz, Zoot Sims, Al Cohn, Serge Chaloff, Red Rodney, Gene Ammons, Milt Jackson, Terry Gibbs and Oscar Pettiford at various times during its two-year existence. The Third Herd followed in 1950, and though Herman led small groups during most of the late fifties, he bounced back with another great Herd in 1960 that included Nat Pierce, Bill Chase, Phil Wilson, Sal Nistico and Jake Hanna.
Other leading swing era bandleaders dealt with changing musical and economic times in various ways. Harry James continued to lead a big band for many years, and it became a more jazz- oriented one than had previously been the case. Much of his library eventually was written by Neal Hefti, Ernie Wilkins and Thad Jones. The band itself, often based in Las Vegas, was consistently strong and featured its leader’s undiminished skids as a trumpeter.
The year 1949 saw three major swing bandleaders —Benny Goodman, Artie Shaw and Charlie Barnet—come to grips with the new trends. Goodman’s new big band featured Wardell Gray, Doug Mettome, Eddie Bert and the scores of Chico O’Farril. Shaw’s ensemble spotlighted typically adventurous writing by Johnny Mandel, Tadd Dameron, George Russell and others, along with playing talent of the caliber of Jimmy Raney, Zoot Sims, Al Cohn and Don fa*gerquist. In the Barnet band, the highlight was a powerhouse trumpet section that included Maynard Ferguson, Doc Severinsen and Rolf Ericson. The arrangements were by Gil Fuller, Manny Albam and Paul Villepigue.
All of these ventures were memorable but short-lived, though all three bandleaders continued to put together large ensembles in later years. Booking a large road big band was always a tricky affair, and by the 1950s, fewer leaders were interested in taking the risk.
Yet some new road big bands did arise.
The Sauter-Finegan band (1952-57) was one of the most memorable, though as we have noted, it was a concert band ill-suited to playing the dances that were still a major part of road band bookings.
Other musicians who made performances a real show—such as Maynard Ferguson and Buddy Rich—were better able to draw a crowd. After spending several years and a Hollywood studio musician and Kenton sideman, Ferguson formed a New York-based 13-piece band in 1957, and it became a major showcase for up-and-coming players and writers.
The players included Don Ellis, Joe Zawinul, Frankie Dunlop. Don Menza, Joe Farrell, Jaki Byard and Ronnie Cuber, and among the writers were Slide Hampton, Willie Maiden, Don Sebesky, Mike Abene and Rob McConnell. Even after moving to England in the mid-sixties, Ferguson continued to front big bands and tour with talented young players into the nineties.
Another latter-day road band of significance was formed in 1966 by Buddy Rich, who left a lucrative spot with Harry James to go on his own. Built around Rich’s virtuoso damming and showmanship, the band combined intense playing and effective (if sometimes flashy) writing and became a popular touring attraction. The Rich big band lasted, with only short hiatuses, until the leader’s death in 1987.
Blowing for sheer joy: rehearsal bands
Almost resigned to the fact that big band music was no way to make a living, a number of musicians since, the fifties have joined large organizations simply for the sheer love of playing in a big band context. Part-time bands, also known (sometimes unfairly) as rehearsal bands, have made some of the best big band music around.
One of the first was The Orchestra, a Washington, D.C. unit founded in 1951 and fronted by announcer Willis Conover. The big band played for a few years on Sunday afternoons in a local club, and many of its members, such as Marky Markowitz and Earl Swope, were ex-road musicians. It released only one album at the time but three decades later two albums came out that featured the big band with guests Charlie Parker and Dizzy Gillespie.
Many other part-time bands of high quality have since arisen in various parts of the world. In Boston, there was Herb Pomeroy’s. Los Angeles saw a lot of them, including big bands led by Terry Gibbs, Gerald Wilson, Don Ellis, Clare Fischer, Bob Florence, Bill Berry, Frankie Capp-Nat Pierce and Bill Holman. In England, John Dankworth, Neil Ardley, Mike Westbrook and Graham Collier all led big bands. The Kenny Clarke—Francy Boland band was based in Germany, and Rob McConnell led one in Toronto. And in New York and Los Angeles, you could hear the Toshiko Akiyoshi band.
Thad and Mel
New York had its share, too, including big bands led by Gerry Mulligan, Duke Pearson, Clark Terry, Howard McGhee, Bill Watrous, Gil Evans and perhaps the greatest and most influential rehearsal band of all, the Thad Jones/Mel Lewis Orchestra. It is certainly the longest-lasting. Now called the Vanguard Jazz Orchestra, the big band played Monday nights at the Village Vanguard continuously since February 1966.
And then there is avant-garde
As in any art, the avant-garde has made a parallel, and in some cases, reactive contribution. The best-known avant-garde big band, and longest in existence, is the Sun Ra Solar Arkestra, which has continued after Sun Ra’s death in 1993. It’s easy to hear his influence on John Coltrane, the Art Ensemble of Chicago and others. He was an early advocate of electric keyboards; and he was playing vintage Ellington and Fletcher Henderson long before jazz repertory became fashionable.
But while giving Sun Ra his due, it must also be said that his presentation had a strong element of theatricality (dancers, lights, etc.). As a strictly musical experience, his recordings need to be listened to selectively to pick out worthwhile passages amidst the water-treading.
Other members of jazz’s avant-garde (a diverse arena, to be sure) have written for big bands, with decidedly mixed results. Whatever their talents as instrumentalists, composers and conceptual thinkers, relatively few of those musicians have studied orchestrating and the writing, to trained ears, sounds amateurish.
This having been said, it should be added that such composers such as Muhal Richard Abrams, Carla Bley, Willem Breuker and Tom Pierson, to name a handful, have displayed considerable talent as orchestrators and big band leaders.
The heritage of orchestral jazz is a rich one rapidly approaching a century in duration, and the possibilities are still considerable. The principal obstacles are economic in nature, and it’s ironic that while these obstacles continue to mount, countless numbers of students are emerging from such colleges as North Texas, Eastman, Berklee, Indiana and dozens of others, trained to play big band jazz. One hopes that they won’t end up being all dressed up and having no place to go. – Bill Kirchner, Mosaic Records brochure
