In 1981, the music-biz publication Cash Box hinted that producer Michael Cuscuna was planning a collaborative LP between trumpeters Freddie Hubbard and Woody Shaw on former Columbia head honcho Bruce Lundvall’s new Elektra jazz label (9/12/81).
That label eventually evolved in to the short-lived but especially classy Elektra-Musician Records, briefly home to some of the most notable jazz of the early eighties and peopled by many former Columbia jazz stars like Dexter Gordon, Eric Gale and Billy Cobham.
The rumored Hubbard-Shaw collaboration didn’t happen until 1985 – for the revived Blue Note label (which, by then, Lundvall had moved to oversee). What came out instead was Shaw’s straight-ahead Master of the Art, with guest star Bobby Hutcherson (also both former Columbia artists), and Hubbard’s surprising crossover set, Ride Like the Wind.
The surprise wasn’t another Freddie Hubbard crossover record, but the appearance of a crossover set on a label that was, for the most part, either staunchly “straight ahead” or more progressive. Given the timing of the recording (June 1981), it seems entirely likely that this particularly expensive record was financed by and intended for another label altogether in a deal that somehow fell through.
It’s easy enough to assume that Lundvall picked up the masters to put out a brand-name record on his newly-launched Elektra Musician label.
This was the trumpeter’s first foray in to orchestrated jazz since The Love Connection (1979), an album Hubbard called “overproduced” in 1981 – precisely around the same time he was recording Ride Like the Wind. But it’s more like a West Coast Windjammer, down to the dual recent Top 20 covers and the wind on both covers blowing Hubtones’s bespoke scarves.
Released in March 1982, only several months after Splash, Ride Like the Wind pairs Hubbard with composer and arranger Allyn Ferguson, a name not particularly well-known in jazz or pop in the early eighties.
Ferguson’s work in jazz included brief collaborations with Stan Kenton (whose 1965 Ferguson-penned piece “Passacaglia and Fugue” features several of the same musicians heard here), Buddy Rich and Sarah Vaughan. He also served an extended stint as Johnny Mathis’s arranger in the sixties.
Much of Ferguson’s work, though, is as soundtrack composer for many TV series and movies, most notably at the time, as music director for TV’s “Charlie’s Angels” (1976-81) and “Barney Miller” (1975-82). His “Charlie’s Angels” theme is probably his best-known piece.
Here, Hubbard and Ferguson cover Kenny Loggins’s “This is It” (1979) and Christopher Cross’s “Ride Like the Wind” (1980, and also featuring this session’s trumpeter Chuck Findley), both of which surprisingly translate well as instrumentals. Edited versions of both tunes were issued as a promotional single, with “This is It” as the a-side. Presumably, it didn’t get picked up by many radio stations.
Ferguson contributes three peppy, if mostly soundtrack-y originals, the cleverly titled “Hubbard’s Cupboard,” the nicely moody “Condition Alpha” and the storyboarded “Two Moods for Freddie.” While “Condition Alpha” is the record’s stand-out piece, “Two Moods” is notable for trombonist Bill Watrous’s sole – and welcome – appearance on the disc.
Ferguson and Hubbard deliver an incisive and funky take on Joe Zawinul’s “Birdland.” Already nicely covered elsewhere by Stanley Turrentine and Maynard Ferguson, this “Birdland” has an edge that recalls Bob James’s gospel piano breaks on Hubbard’s earlier cover of “Dream Weaver.”
Hubbard’s always lovely “Brigitte,” named for his wife and first appearing on his 1973 CTI album Keep Your Soul Together, gets a bit soapy here – sounding as though it belongs on a James Bond soundtrack of the period.
Ultimately, Ride Like the Wind is like the evening breeze: pleasant, peaceful, calm and cool. And probably too much of a good thing. Like the breeze, you fail to even notice it after a while.
Despite saxophonist Bud Shank’s presence in the orchestra, Freddie Hubbard is the primary soloist throughout, with occasional tasty electric piano solos by Bill Mays. Hubbard delivers the goods, but he could be playing anything with anybody here. Nothing stands out.
“Hubbard displays…strong chops,” wrote Billboard at the time, “but…offers less warmth on Ride Like The Wind, a sleek but somewhat impersonal array of pop hits given supercharged string and horn charts by Allyn Ferguson. Cut live by Soundstream's two-channel digital system, the disk gives us plenty of Abe Laboriel's funky bass and Bill Maxwell's dance rhythms on drums. What it lacks is Hubbard's sense of discovery on his recent acoustic sets, but fusion fans will still relish its sonics.” (February 27, 1982)
Remarkably, for the period, the Wind recording sessions were filmed for the Sony VHS videotape release called Freddie Hubbard – Studiolive. Originally released in 1981 as part of Sony’s “Video LP” video cassettes, the entire 59-minute LP program is easily viewed now on YouTube.
Veteran trumpeter cuts a groove midway between his old Blue Note and CTI sessions on this slick album. Jazz radio will likely pick up on side one, featuring a session with guests Stanley Turrentine and George Benson. Unchallenging but commercially sure-fire. - Billboard
There’s absolutely nothing “midway” or “sure-fire” about this schizophrenic record.
Released in August 1987, Life Flight is Freddie Hubbard’s first solo outing on the storied Blue Note label since 1965. Its split personality pits anonymous electric funk on side one of the original vinyl LP (his first dive down this rabbit hole in a full five years) with two strong signature Hubbard compositions on side two, delivered by an acoustic quintet in straight-ahead fashion.
Both groups feature keyboardist Larry Willis, who, surprisingly, had only previously recorded with Hubbard on a 1981 Jimmy Cobb disc, and drummer and fellow-CTI accolade Idris Muhammad, who first factored with Hubbard on George Benson’s 1969 album The Other Side of Abbey Road.
Side one is comprised of two longish but bland funk-blues tunes that would have never made the cut on any CTI record. They do, however, boast the comfortable familiarity of the expert noodling by the leader and his former CTI All Stars compatriots, saxophonist Stanley Turrentine and guitarist George Benson.
These pieces include the oddly-titled almost-melody “Battlescar Galorica,” co-written by Eddie “Gip” Noble (best known as co-writer of Teddy Pendergrass’s “Love T.K.O.”) and George Johnson of the Brothers Johnson, and the electric blues riff “A Saint’s Homecoming Song.” The latter piece is credited solely to Johnson, who had previously “played” with Hubbard on Steve Arrington’s 1985 dance hit “Feel So Real.” Although the soloists are, as ever, a joy to hear, neither of these tracks will lodge in anyone’s memory.
For whatever reason, the guitarist George “Lightnin’ Licks” Johnson wasn’t invited to play here: probably to keep a light on Benson. But while none of this fusion side makes much sense, it’s easy to assume more was recorded than appears here. But if this was the best of what was recorded during the electric sessions, we probably don’t need to hear much more.
Benson and Turrentine sadly disappear from side two and exceptional tenor saxophonist Ralph Moore steps in for the record’s far-superior acoustic second side.
The 22 minutes of this side are the only signs of life or flight here. These two pieces – “The Melting Pot” and “Life Flight,” both Hubbard compositions – would have found favor on any one of Hubbard’s CTI, Columbia, Atlantic or Blue Note records.
Here, Hubbard steps up as composer – and his playing and soloing take on meaningful prowess, something rather lacking on too many of his fusion recordings of the period. So does the playing of pianist Larry Willis and bassist Rufus Reid. These pieces are not only worthy of Hubbard but Blue Note as well.
Interesting, though, to see Freddie pictured on the then-mod Italian couch here, as it updates or recalls his appearance 14 years earlier on Pete Turner’s then-hip “lips” couch, as pictured on the cover of the 1973 CTI album Keep Your Soul Together.
”For his Blue Note encore,” reported Billboard magazine on November 7, 1987, “Hubbard wants to do a ‘big production record,’ similar to the early '70s CTI work – like First Light and Red Clay – that enhanced his following. But to do so, the trumpeter says he'll need a bigger budget than he had for Life Flight.
”The producer who best captured this type of sound, says Hubbard, was CTI maven Creed Taylor, although he thinks Bob James came close with Windjammer. He'd like to book Herbie Hancock to run the board for his next date, but says Hancock's schedule may be too crowded.”
On Times Are Changing, the last major-label release during his lifetime, Freddie Hubbard was unable to secure the services or the aid of Creed Taylor, Bob James or even Herbie Hancock. He didn’t get to do a “big production record” either – something that synthesizers made wildly unfashionable at this point.
Odder, still, is the strange delay that it took Hubbard to get out his desired Life Flight follow-up. This suggests there was not much agreement about either what this disc should be or how much money Blue Note would fork over for this sort of record.
The program and the production here is largely overseen by keyboardist and songwriter Todd Cochran, much in the way Marcus Miller was then overseeing such Miles Davis recordings as Tutu (1986) and Music from Siesta (1987). Basically, the nominal leader drops his signature tones over top already-crafted grooves and then it goes to market.
Todd Cochran started his career as a teenager in John Handy’s group and made a name for himself with Bobby Hutcherson (check out the 1971 disc Head On). Cochran recorded two of his own albums as Bayeté for Prestige in the early seventies, memorably waxing the song “Free Angela,” which would later get covered by Santana.
Cochran would go on to form the pop-rock band Automatic Man, a short-lived venture he co-founded with drummer and former Santana co-founder Michael Shrieve. Cochran went on to be a session player and songwriter for sessions by Stanley Clarke, Stanley Turrentine, Stix Hooper and many others.
He had previously worked with Hubbard on Stanley Clarke’s “Together Again,” from the bassist’s 1979 album I Wanna Play for You. He also played on the title song to CTI’s Fuse One sequel Silk (1981), again with Clarke.
Hardly surprising then that Cochran brought some of his friends along for this date, including Michael Shrieve on percussion, Stix Hooper on drums (“Spanish Rose,” “Times ‘R Changin”) and Stanley Clarke on bass (“Spanish Rose”).
Also present throughout is percussionist Munyungo (here as “Munyango”) Jackson, a frequent Cochran associate. Jackson and Hubbard had recently appeared together on Norman Connors’s 1988 “Samba for Maria” and the percussionist was on the 1980 Connors album Take it to the Limit, where Hubbard is the featured soloist on the terrific instrumental cover of Steely Dan’s “Black Cow.”
This disc’s opener, ”Spanish Rose,” is a pleasant, breezy confection that finds Hubbard seemingly comfortable in a south-of-the-border smooth-jazz mode. Clarke and Hooper give the piece a real jazz vibe that is mostly missing elsewhere here.
Things get even smoother on the very eighties-esque “Back to Lovin’ Again,” a piece that sounds as though it could have been on any direct-to-video movie soundtrack of the period. Hubbard’s familiar elegance keeps things interesting, but neither of these pieces have the memorable punch of a typical Hubbard composition. Think “Red Clay,” “Povo” or even “Skagly.”
The Spanish flair continues on “Corazon Amplio (A Song for Bert),” a lovely cover of Sting’s eminently coverable “Fragile,” and the longish “Sabrosa.” Enjoyable and listenable as each of these may well be, all these tracks sound as though they are competing for spots on the Miles Davis/Marcus Miller Siesta soundtrack.
The evocative “Sabrosa” is by trumpeter Tex Allen (Gil Evans, Vincent Herring), who also contributed music to a 1981 Jimmy Cobb album featuring Hubbard. Saxophonist Vincent Herring – who would later join Hubbard’s band and appears on Hubbard’s Bolivia(1991) and MMTC (1995) – also covered “Sabrosa” on his 1995 album Don’t Let it Go.
Remarkably, for all the pop turns here, Blue Note took no chances with Times Are Changing. Several wannabe 45s are heard here, but no singles were ever issued.
Take, for example, “Was She Really There.” This peculiar number gets a vocal turn from then-frequent GRP vocalist Phil Perry, with a muted Hubbard adding sugary squiggles. To be sure, it’s not your average pop confectionary. One wonders who thought it might be.
It’s credited to the mysterious “G.F. Miely,” who turns out to be San Franscisco-based pianist and composer George Mullally. He recorded a few albums in the early eighties credited to “George M’Lely.” Hardly radio-friendly, “Was She Really There” may well have made a better instrumental – for a different album. It’s hard to tell.
That Blue Note translated this disc’s title track into common English from its otherwise Prince-ly derivation shows either how little they were behind the whole project or how much they just didn’t get any of it.
Unfortunately, the song “Times ‘R Changin” is little better than anonymous mid-eighties electro-funk: a knock-off of more interesting fare such as “Rockit” (1983), “Close (To The Edit)” (1984) or an instrumental outtake from Prince’s similarly titled Sign “O” The Times (1987).
”Trumpet vet delivers the ‘production record’ he has promised for two years,” wrote Billboard in May 1989, upon the album’s release. “Though his track record on crossover attempts has been spotty, early radio response puts this in the win column.” (Initially, this was true. But while the record reached a fairly respectable number 19 on the magazine’s Contemporary Jazz Albums chart, Hubbard’s previous effort, Life Flight, hit higher, reaching number 13 on that very same chart.)
”Keyboardist Cochran,” continued Billboard, “has written what may be Hubbard's smoothest fusion effort since his CTI days.” Whoever wrote that obviously hadn’t really listened to (or liked) Freddie Hubbard’s CTI records – or heard any of the studio records Hubbard waxed in the subsequent fifteen years.
Like the earlier Ride Like the Wind, Times Are Changing is more enjoyable than memorable. Hubbard’s playing throughout is on point, but he’s definitely coasting on autopilot here, more or less noodling over top someone else’s music.
If times were changing, then Times Are Changing was probably more backward glance than forward vision.
After this, Freddie Hubbard never made another so-called “production record.” Indeed, health problems and a serious lip injury curtailed much of his ability to record in any situation as prodigiously as he previously had.
The few studio recordings Hubbard waxed hereafter were all straight ahead – with several guest appearances on other artist’s hip-hop records – and, in most cases, contain little of the energy or enthusiasm he displayed on the records covered here.
I, for one, am glad for these records Freddie Hubbard made. I love each and every one. I could only wish this great player, bandmate and composer could have found a better way to navigate his path to a crossover success that likely never happened to his own personal satisfaction.
I recently received an email message from the Spanish Fresh Sound Records listing Spoonful as a new release. Only after I ordered it did I learn this marvelous double-disc set was issued way back in 2017. Still, it was new to me and well worth the effort to get.
Why name a big band after Gil Evans? French pianist, composer, arranger and bandleader Laurent Cugny puts it simply: “Pleasure of sound, of harmony, of melody, of form.” Indeed, Gil Evans (1912-88) had a language all his own. Maybe several languages. And each were pure pleasure.
In addition to being a musician and bandleader, Cugny is also a professor of music and musicology at Sorbonne Université. He is also the author of a number of significant jazz-related books, notably Las Vegas Tango: Un vie de Gil Evans (1989) and Électrique Miles Davis, 1968-1975 (1993), neither of which were ever translated in to English.
Cugny’s books available in English include the well-regarded reference texts Analysis of Jazz (2019) and Eurojazzland (2012), on which he served as a contributor and coeditor.
Laurent Cugny (b. 1955) met Evans in the mid-eighties when the younger man was writing what turned out to be the first book published about the jazz legend, best known then – and probably still today – for his magnificent work with Miles Davis. (At the time, Maria Schneider, now a revered leader of her own orchestra, was more than a protégé: she, too, was actively working with Evans.)
In 1987, Cugny invited Evans to travel to Europe to play his music with the French bandleader’s Big Band Lumiere. They played 21 dates in Europe and recorded enough music to fill two discs, Rhythm-a-Ning (1988) and Golden Hair (1989).
Both of these discs were studio recordings (captured over several days in November 1987), a real rarity for Evans at this point in his recording career – and both loom large as some of Evans’s best late-period work. Much of the reason for these discs’ artistic success is due, in large part, to Laurent Cugny himself.
”My idea at the time,” writes Cugny in this disc’s liner notes, “was…to rebalance somewhat the equilibrium between writing and improvisation, which, to my taste, too often went towards improvisation in his groups in his later style.”
Cugny, who cites his own favored model of the maestro’s, the superb 1972 album Masabumi Kikuchi + Gil Evans, continues to remain fond of Gil Evans – in his own music as well as the wide-ranging repertoire of Evans himself.
Cugny continues to work actively in France, and has worked with such Americans (in Paris) as Abbey Lincoln, Lucky Peterson and Rhoda Scott.
In what is – at least, to date – the lone GEPW project, Cugny manages to balance the acoustic and electric Evans and the decades-length Evans-like sound in a 16-piece band, with electric guitar and Fender Rhodes mixing and matching with French horns, tuba, trumpet and saxophone.
This remarkable double-disc set from 2017 features one disc devoted to the music of Laurent Cugny, titled “La vie facile” (The Easy Life) and another to the music of Gil Evans titled “Time of the Barracudas.” Each holds many secrets, only some of which I will reveal here.
Cugny bolts out of the gate, running with the banger that is “Krikor.” Given the gaming craftsmanship and the crafty gamesmanship at play here, it’s likely the song is named for the Brazilian chess grandmaster Krikor Mekhitarian. The solos may well be beside the point (the clever writing is what is most memorable here), but tenor player Adrien Sanchez takes solo honors, while Cugny offers up an impressionistic Gil Evans-like piano “solo” that gives the clever piece a welcome moody and contemplative vigor that sixties-era Evans would have appreciated.
The set progresses beautifully with a gorgeous cover of Milton Nascimento’s “Lillia,” spotlighting the ethereal and evocative guitar work of Marc-Antoine Perrio and a Steve Lacy-meets-Wayne Shorter soprano solo by Martin Guerpin (“Lilia” is best known from Wayne Shorter’s 1975 album with Nascimento, Native Dancer).
Also of note are Cugny’s lively, loping and lovely “Liviore,” the dreamy “La vie facile” and GEPW French Horn player Victor Michaud’s compelling “Louisville,” featuring a haunting trombone solo by Bastien Ballaz. “Louisville” harks to or recalls, to this listener, the dramatic and emotional story-like gravitas of so much of Snarky Puppy’s work. (I hear a little Hugh Masekela – or maybe Jonas Gwangwa – here too.)
One of the nicest surprises on this part of the program is the Gershwin classic “My Man’s Gone Now.”
You’d think this properly belongs on the Gil Evans portion of the set. But not the way Cugny handles it. Here, Cugny reframes the Porgy and Bess piece in the Miles mode of David Crosby’s “Guinnevere” – which Cugny previously tapped for his own “Lady, Like Yours” (from the terrific 1991 disc Santander). A dash of “Las Vegas Tango” informs as well – as though delivered by Henry Mancini.
With a few exceptions, the disc devoted to the music – or, more specifically, the repertoire – of Gil Evans, dubbed here “Time of the Barracudas,” falls just below the high bar set by “La vie Facile” and, in some respects, the earlier discs Cugny waxed with Evans, too.
Cugny covers a great swath of Evans’s music – maybe too great. The set spans Evans material from the fifties (“King Porter Stomp,” “Bud and Bird”) to the eighties (“London” and the Mingus covers), with the best material coming from somewhere in between. To be fair, though, the two extremes in Evans’s career noted here surprisingly seem to have much more in common than not.
Still, rousing as it is, the opener, “King Porter Stomp,” is a bit of a jolt. It’s delivered with great verve and Cugny’s typical wit but seems only peripherally Evans-ish. Jelly Roll Morton’s original was first “interpreted” by Evans on his 1958 album New Bottle, Old Wine. It wasn’t so much a feature for Evans (or even his writing) as much as it was a showpiece for saxophonist Cannonball Adderley, who swings the hell out of the tune.
Here, alto player Antonin-Tri Hoang gives it his all, but he still can’t fit it in to what this listener considers Evans country. (To be fair, Evans revisited the tune again in 1975, a few months before Adderley’s untimely death, where it was a feature for David Sanborn.)
But if opening with “King Porter Stomp” seems a bit off, the remaining program is beautifully balanced with alternating Cugny duets, all in the ever-so brief one-to-two-minute range: the underrated “Sunken Treasure” (with Pierrio), “Zee Zee” (with Quentin Ghomari), “Orange was the Color of Her Dress, Then Silk Blues” (with Martin Guerpin) and two versions of “The Barbara Song” (one with Bastien Ballaz and another with Cugny on dueling keyboards).
With these pieces, Cugny reveals precisely how Evans could turn mere sketches into full-fledged paintings. But on the longer pieces, Cugny expertly turns Evans’s one-act plays in to three-act theater.
This is most evident on the haunting and hypnotic 15-minute take of Willie Dixon’s “Spoonful.” While certainly this disc’s finest moment, the otherwise wonderful tune has a troubled provenance in Evans’s world.
Originally made famous by Howlin’ Wolf in 1960, ”Spoonful” was recorded by Evans in 1964 but not issued at the time. When a nine-and-a-half-minute edit of the song was first issued in 1974, Evans was unhappy about its release. Presumably, he was displeased with the performance but perhaps he was more upset about the edit. The song was, however, restored to its original near 14-minute glory – to Evans’s apparent satisfaction – for the 1988 CD release of The Individualism of Gil Evans.
Cugny joyfully extends Evans’s framework on “Spoonful” while juicy solos are served up by Marc-Antoine Perrio on guitar, Quentin Ghomari on trumpet, Léo Pellet on trombone and Antonin-Tri Hoang on alto sax.
“Spoonful” is undoubtedly Spoonful’s “La Nevada” or “Las Vegas Tango” moment, two Evans classics curiously missing here – even as Cugny boasts in his liner notes of getting Evans to perform “La Nevada” during their time together, a song Evans hadn’t performed since recording it on Out of the Cool in 1960.
Additional highlights of this Evans-Cugny collaboration include the perfectly evocative “Time of the Barracudas,” with Adrien Sanchez on tenor sax, Charles Mingus’s always delightful “Boogie Stop Shuffle” (which Evans arranged, late in his career, for the soundtrack to the 1986 film Absolute Beginners) and the bravura “Blues in Orbit,” with solos by Miles-ish Brice Moscardini on trumpet and Eric Dolphy-esque Jean-Philippe Scali on bass clarinet.
Kudos, too, to Cugny for the New Orleans lilt he brings to ”Bud and Bird,” topped by infectious solos by Bastien Ballaz on trombone and Quentin Ghomari on trumpet.
If the “Time of the Barracudas” disc isn’t as satisfying as “La vie facile,” it is due, perhaps, to the former’s “big band” sound overpowering its more ethereal and orchestral moments, the sound Cugny absolutely masters on the latter disc. But those brief interludes on “Barracudas” are exquisite and make for essential listening even so.
More recently, Cugny has put out the electrifying CD Zeitgeist (2023) with a group he calls the Laurent Cugny Tentet, which also includes GEPW trumpeter Quentin Ghomari.
This is a superb fusion fest that mines Bitches Brew-era Miles, shaped and grooved by Cugny’s logic and love for electric Miles, ca. 1969 to 1975. There, he offers scintillating covers of The Beatles’ “I Want You” and Joni Mitchell’s “Woodstock” (like Bitches Brew, postcards from 1969) as well as an electric Milesian cover of Cugny’s “Liviore” (also on the GEPW disc).
Zeitgeist also offers an impressively electric take on Ellington’s “Mood Indigo” and an unexpected cover of Miles Davis’s “Mr. Foster,” recorded by the trumpeter in 1973 but not released until 2007 on The Complete On the Corner Sessions box set (it also serves as the title track to the titular drummer Al Foster’s 1979 Japanese album). Like Spoonful, Zeitgeist is well worth exploring.
In a recording career that spans nearly eight decades, guitarist George Freeman (b. 1927) can be heard on only a handful of discs: some by others and fewer yet by Freeman himself.
One reason for this is that Freeman wasn’t often credited on his sessions for others (particularly in the forties and the fifties). Another reason is that Freeman always went back home to Chicago when he got tired of gigging to be with family and occasionally lead a trio of his own.
George Freeman, brother of Von and uncle to Chico, has played with sax greats Charlie Parker, Gene Ammons and Sonny Stitt. He’s traveled the R&B circuit with Sil Austin and Jackie Wilson and done his time in the organ combos of Wild Bill Davis, Richard “Groove” Holmes and Jimmy McGriff.
While George Freeman was never as prolifically recorded as other guitarists of his generation – say, Joe Pass or Kenny Burrell – the sound he put out on guitar was unlike anything heard before or since. His tone could be pretty, but often raw and aggressive. It’s the sound of feeling. Also, his phrasing could be melodic, but charges more like a leader on a horn than a section mate who takes a solo.
"There is virtually no precedent,” wrote tenor saxophonist, bandleader, educator, scholar, author and The Good Life producer Loren Schoenberg in his notes to a 1998 Charlie Parker compilation, “for the outrageously experimental music that George Freeman creates…[His playing] is unlike anything I have ever heard, and seems much closer to what John Scofield and Bill Frisell have brought to the jazz guitar in the '90s than to anything from his own contemporaries.”
In other words, once you hear George Freeman, you pay attention – as though a whole new sound and groove had taken over and a song becomes immediately transformed. The music takes on a totally new meaning and requires a whole new way of hearing.
Even an organ trio is amped up by Freeman’s presence. Check out the way he steals the show and shreds – before it was even a thing – on Jimmy McGriff’s “Freedom Suite (Part 2)” or Groove Holmes’ “Licks a Plenty” (both 1973, although Freeman can be heard to superb effect on the 1961 version of the latter tune with Ben Webster). On that latter recording, Freeman brings out a whole new meaning to the titles “Out of Nowhere” and “The Squirrel” as well.
Consider, too, the remarkably sizzling and scintillating “Jug Eyes” and the guitarist’s own “The Black Cat” from saxophonist Gene Ammons’ 1971 album The Black Cat!. And, of course, there is the psychedelic acid-jazz classic “The Bump” from Freeman’s 1973 rarity Franticdiagnosis.
Once you hear George Freeman, you’ll want to hear more.
That brings us to The Good Life, which, by my count, is only George Freeman’s twelfth album as a leader. To celebrate his 95th birthday in 2022, George convened two trios: one in May with bassist Christian McBride and drummer Carl Allen and another in June with organist Joey DeFrancesco and drummer Lewis Nash.
Surprisingly, or maybe not, Freeman had never worked with either McBride or DeFrancesco, yet, unfortunately, The Good Life seems to be the organ player’s final recording. Joey DeFrancesco died only two months after this date with Freeman.
Throughout, this nonagenarian is in especially fine fettle. While maybe not as fleet as he used to be – or maybe no longer in need of standing out – the guitarist is never less than witty, even feisty. He is, by turns, playful yet precise; sly yet succinct, and always warm, wise and wonderful. He’s clearly having fun here, playing, indeed, as though he’s living “the good life.”
The program is mostly made up of George Freeman’s bluesy originals, bookended by the jazz standard “If I Had You” (with DeFrancesco) and Sacha Distel’s popular “The Good Life” (with McBride). With his solos on these two pieces, however, the guitarist reveals his characteristic resolve of exploring the more unchartered waters of the otherwise well-known songs: not so much deconstructing, but reconstructing. As ever, his playing commands attention.
While there’s not a dud in the bunch, the disc’s highlight is surely Freeman’s “Lowe Groovin,” from the trio with McBride. The song dates back to the mid-forties when Freeman played it with trumpeter Joe Morris’s orchestra, a group that also featured Johnny Griffin.
When the song was released on record in 1948, it was wrongly credited to Morris – a move that caused Freeman to leave the band. By the eighties, Freeman was able to reclaim credit for the song and its publishing rights.
Here, Freeman and McBride turn the heat way down “lowe” to a smokey, smoking blues. It’s a stark contrast to the jumpy R&B of the original and contains many fine moments in its all-too brief six minutes (replete with the guitarist’s devilishly clever quote of “You Came a Long Way from St. Louis”).
It’s a shame that Defrancesco and McBride aren’t heard together here – as they occasionally had been as far back as Joey’s 1993 Part III and as recently as Christian’s marvelous big band outing For Jimmy, Wes and Oliver (2020).
Here, Joey shines on “Mr. D,” written by the guitarist especially for the late, great and much-missed organist, and “Up and Down,” while Christian rocks, as expected, throughout, most notably on “Lowe Groovin” and “Sister Tankersley,” written by the guitarist for his mother, who lived to be 101.
The disc’s affectionate liner notes were written by producer Michael Cuscuna, who, in a nice “full circle” moment, financed and produced George Freeman’s 1969 recording debut, Birth Sign. Cuscuna “discovered” Freeman back in 1968 while writing the notes for the album The Astonishing Mickey Fields, where the tenor saxophonist was backed by Groove Holmes’ group, featuring George Freeman.
One could wish for a full disc’s worth of material from both sessions. But what is here is absorbing, often bracing and always enjoyable. Five guys just a-sittin’ and a-rockin’.
The German composer and bandleader Bert Kaempfert looms large as a pop-song composer and maestro of exceptional easy-listening music. Nearly half a century since his untimely passing in 1980, Kaempfert’s presence in music continues to be felt.
He stands head and shoulders among the world’s best and best-known songwriters and his music continues to be covered today. And Kaempfert’s records – dozens waxed from the fifties through the seventies – are as timeless as ever.
But there’s no talking about Bert Kaempfert without mentioning Herbert Rehbein. And, sadly, too many of us – this writer included – fail to mention Rehbein’s significant contribution to music and the success of Bert Kaempfert.
Herbert Rehbein was born in Hamburg, Germany in 1922. His first contact with music was an inexpensive violin his parents gave him instead of the more expensive piano he wanted. He practiced with fervor, mastering the classics of Brahms, Mendelssohn and Tchaikovsky.
By age 19, he was drafted in to the military but was lucky enough to get stationed on the Mediterranean island of Crete, where he served in the Music Corps. Later, he was taken as a prisoner of war, yet somehow was allowed to play the violin. Even more remarkably, he was named violin soloist and musical director of Yukoslavia’s Belgrade Radio Orchestra.
Rehbein eventually returned to Hamburg in 1952 to attend to his mother’s illness. While there, he met fellow orchestra leader, Bert Kaempfert. After several performances together, the two became friends and, eventually, songwriting partners.
By the mid-fifties, Rehbein had relocated to Switzerland, where he became musical director and principal soloist of the Swiss Radio Orchestra, a position he held for many years. He began issuing singles under his own name and accompanying Swiss singer and actor Vico Torriani (1920-98) on a series of international hits.
On record, Kaempfert and Rehbein’s partnership seems to have begun on the former’s 1961 album Lights Out, Sweet Dreams with the pairs’ songs, “Highland Dream,” “Sweet Dreams” and “Magnolia Blossoms.” Expat Rehbein is also said to have had an even greater role in the Kaempfert universe as the Hamburg-based orchestra’s principal arranger and conductor. (Albums, in those days, rarely gave credit where credit was due.)
The pair were credited with crafting a “continental sound” that made the “Kaempfert Touch” an international success in the sixties. They wrote hundreds of songs (together and with others) over nearly two decades including “My Way of Life (Over and Over)” (a hit for Frank Sinatra), the lovely “Sweet Maria,” “The Lady Smiles,” “It Makes No Difference,” “Lady” and “You Turned My World Around” (also covered by Sinatra).
Dean Martin recorded the writing partners’ “I Can’t Help Remembering You” and “Welcome to My World” while Sammy Davis, Jr. had a hit with “Lonely is the Name” and Al Martino scored with “Wiederseh’n.” The two wrote many more songs – particularly for Kaempfert records – that deserve to be much better known. Only some are noted here.
Music To Soothe That Tiger (1965)
This is cheek-to-cheek music, designed to be shared with someone you love. Sit back and turn the lights down low…you might even unlock the cage…you’ve got nothing to worry about, start the music and “hold that tiger.” - From the album’s cheeky liner notes
This album title understates the contents. The tunes and arrangements could soothe the most savage of beasts. Lush, smooth strings and brass envelop the listener into relaxation. - Billboard (February 6, 1965)
European export Herbert Rehbein guides his lush [orchestra] in a rich-sounding tour of “cheek-to- cheek” music with this outing…a beautiful package of romance-filled nostalgia. - Cash Box (March 27, 1965)
Originally released in Europe in 1964 as Bert Kaempfert Presents Love, Music To Soothe That Tiger is specifically engineered to echo those popular mood records of the fifties, particularly the records of Jackie Gleason. Although this sort of thing was still in vogue, its luster was dulled rather significantly by the breakout of the Fab Four around this time.
Rehbein goes out of his way to contrast the then-popular “Kaempfert sound” by bringing strings to the fore, swapping out Fred Moch’s trumpet for the welcome smokey after-hours tenor of Emil Wurster and, most significantly, doing away with Ladi Geisler’s signature “Knack-Bass” in favor of upright bass and acoustic guitar for rhythm support (giving the orchestra a feel of Count Basie lite).
The Kaempfert-Rehbein compositions here include “Don’t Talk to Me” (also on Kaempfert’s Living It Up! and later covered by Johnny Mathis) and “The Lady Smiles” (also covered by Matt Monroe) as well as the little known but worthy “Moon Maid” and “Dry Eyes.” Also here is Rehbein’s solo composition “I Love You So,” which Kaempfert covered a decade later on the 1975 Moon Over Miami, his final American release.
(Interestingly, all five of the previously mentioned songs were sampled in 2018 by Pit Baumgartner for the fascinating and compelling Strangers in Dub: Bert Kaempfert meets De-Phazz. “I admit that in my youth,” writes Baumgartner in his liner note, “I thought Bert Kaempfert’s music was uncool. Today I can see his quality.” His loving tribute is proof of just how cool this music is – still.)
A violinist, possibly Rehbein himself, takes the lead on “Chances Are,” “If I Had You” and “Speak Low.”
”Sweet and Lovely” b/w “Blue Beat” (1966)
Of the three albums issued under Herbert Rehbein’s name in the United States, surprisingly none bore any single releases. This means that either radio stations expressed little to no interest in Rehbein’s music or Decca wasn’t doing much to promote Kaempfert’s co-hort. Either way, this is an indication that these records did not fare particularly well.
But in 1966 Decca managed to sneak out a Herbert Rehbein single that never appeared on any album. The A-side was the old chestnut “Sweet and Lovely,” a song made popular in 1931 by Bing Crosby and also Guy Lombardo.
The song has been covered by jazz pianists Thelonious Monk, Bill Evans and Ahmad Jamal but was largely ignored by the easy-listening maestros – although former Jackie Gleason Orchestra soloist Bobby Hackett (who cut a Kaempfert tribute album in 1963) covered “Sweet and Lovely” in 1961.
The single is notable, however, for its flip side: the otherwise unknown Kaempfert-Rehbein composition “Blue Beat.” This all-too brief and uncharacteristic bit of Kaempfertiana is a cool, catchy mishmash of Neal Hefti’s “Batman” theme with Herbie Hancock’s “Watermelon Man” and Henry Mancini’s “Baby Elephant Walk.” “Blue Beat” has somehow eluded all the many Kaempfert compilations on LP and CD, yet is well worth hearing.
Love After Midnight (1967)
A nightcap in a dimly-lit café, a slow ride through the park in a hansom cab, sweet nothings whispered in the wee small hours…Love After Midnight is beautiful music, beautifully played, certain to make lovers of us all. - From the album’s dreamy liner notes
A selection of romantic tunes performed by Herbert Rehbein and his orchestra. The sound…is full, rich, and clear, and the package should attract plenty of attention. - Cash Box (February 18, 1967)
The strings are lush and flowing, the trumpet muted and soft, and the violin crystal clear yet subduing in a beautiful program. - Billboard (March 4, 1967)
Recorded around the same time of Bert Kaempfert’s 1967 album Hold Me - which also includes versions of this record’s “Lady” and “Hold Back the Dawn” - Love After Midnight is a bit more taciturn than its predecessor: music to soothe that tiger to sleep.
Rehbein’s rather mournful violin is brought forward on more of the program than before but rather notably on “Yesterday” and the Rehbein original “A Gypsy in Manhattan,” a nice companion piece to the earlier Kaempfert-Rehbein number “Tipsy Gypsy.” This particular “Gypsy,” however, suggests a Bernard Hermann combine as much of the past (say, Vertigo) as of the future (possibly Taxi Driver).
Trumpeter Manfred “Fred” Moch (1930-2011), Kaempfert’s regular soloist at the time, is brought in to add a refreshing edge of jazz to the proceedings, much as Bobby Hackett added such flair to Jackie Gleason’s records in the fifties. Moch peps up the program considerably when he steps up to the mic, particularly on the title track, the lovely “Li’l Darlin” (a performance which likely made composer Neal Hefti especially proud), “Lady” and “A Gypsy in Manhattan.”
The record is flush with lush strings and all the better for it. The swells throughout are dreamy, and often vaguely suggestive. This sense of programming highlights what many listeners of this sort of music already knew: easy listening isn’t as easy as it sounds.
Along with the previously noted Kaempfert-Rehbein tunes, the album also features the pair’s terrific title track, which was previously recorded by Kaempfert in 1963 and included on his European compilation album Let’s Go Bowling. A particularly dreamy take of Kaempfert’s “Strangers in the Night” – a number one hit for Frank Sinatra and originally derived from a song on the soundtrack to A Man Could Get Killed - is included but it’s worth noting that Rehbein had no hand in composing the tune, even though he’s frequently credited there as Kaempfert’s co-composer.
…And So To Bed: The Love Music of Bert Kaempfert (1969)
The choice of songs offered here is dedicated to that special time when day ebbs away to a quiet close, when reality tunes out…and dreams tune in. Some of the songs are familiar favorites, popular with many of today’s top recording artists, while others are somewhat less familiar. Each, however, is a musical gem that sets a special mood, enhanced by Herbert Rehbein’s faultless musicianship. - From the album’s grim liner notes
Easy listening is not always all that easy, but with Bert Kaempfert's long-time collaborator, Herbert Rehbein, the soft sounds of easy listening are coupled with the pleasant sounds of smooth dance rhythms. If you were planning on dancing in your sleep, you would listen to Herbert Rehbein…” - Cash Box (August 23, 1969)
While it might be difficult to determine whether either of the above comments are positive or negative, there is a real sense about this album that Herbert Rehbein’s previous records, lovely as they may be, were anything but big sellers.
Marketing …And So To Bed as a Bert Kaempfert tribute album suggests that Herbert Rehbein seemed to need the more familiar name to sell records. After all, ten of the eleven songs here are as much Rehbein’s as Kaempfert’s. But it’s not even clear this was enough: Kaempfert’s popularity – at least in the United States – was beginning to wane.
…And So To Bed actually sounds more like a Bert Kaempfert record than Rehbein’s two previous efforts. Most notable of all is the inclusion of electric bass and the light touch of a drummer, both echoing the typical Kaempfert record of the period.
In addition to the soaring strings typical of Rehbein’s previous records, the leader’s violin (nicely) shares the solo spotlight with an unnamed flautist – a staple of Kaempfert albums of yore. A batch of vocalists also offer a minimal background of “oohs” and “aahs,” as was happening on Kaempfert’s records at the time as well.
The program is well-conceived too. Oddly, the one song here that Rehbein didn’t have a hand in, the well-known “Spanish Eyes,” is the album’s most significant highlight (and this listener’s first exposure to Herbert Rehbein and His Orchestra). Rehbein’s strings positively caress this most beautiful of melodies.
Other joys abound, though, too. These include the haunting “Malaysian Melody,” the otherwise too-morose “The World We Knew,” and the appropriately moody “Manhattan After Dark.”
Also included here are two numbers that don’t factor on any of the Kaempfert records: “The Times Will Change” (later covered by Johnny Mathis) and “I Can’t Help Remembering You” (covered earlier by Dean Martin). The cover versions – and not the Rehbein takes heard here – are included on the 2002 compilation The Bert Kaempfert Story: A Musical Biography.
While …And So To Bed was seemingly – and oddly – never released in Europe or Rehbein’s native Germany (or adopted Swiss homeland), it is also the last of Rehbein’s albums released in America. And so to bed, indeed.
The Rehbein Compilations
Bert Kaempfert continued to work with Herbert Rehbein throughout the seventies – even after the United States stopped issuing Kaempfert recordings in 1975. Rehbein won a 1972 competition for his Olympics theme song, “Munich Fanfare March,” recorded by German orchestra leader Max Greger (and also known as “Olympic Games March” and “Olympis-Jodler”).
Rehbein later recorded one final album under his own name in Italy (seemingly without Kaempfert), Beautiful Morning, which was issued posthumously in 1980. Sadly, Herbert Rehbein died of cancer at the relatively early age of 57 in 1979 while Kaempfert himself passed away eleven months later from complications of a stroke at the equally young age of 56.
In 1993, Herbert Rehbein and Bert Kaempfert were both inducted in to the Songwriters Hall of Fame. Three of the writing pairs’ compositions - “Lady,” “The World We Knew” and “Sweet Maria” (the only song not represented on these recordings) - won music publisher BMI Awards for exceptional performances.
The emergence of the CD format and streaming technologies were very good for Bert Kaempfert’s catalog, keeping much of the bandleader’s recordings in circulation throughout much of the more than four decades that have passed since his death.
Rehbein has also seen two CD compilations of his work: Herbert Rehbein and His Orchestra: The Complete LP Collection (Taragon, 2000) and Soothing The Tiger: The Gentle Sound of Herbert Rehbein and His Orchestra (Edel, 2013). Both sets contain the entire contents of the three Rehbein albums on Decca, though neither adds either side of the 1966 Decca single.
All three of the albums discussed here are thoroughly delightful. None are exactly the same, though each bears a consistency that begged for more.
One senses, though, that Herbert Rehbein was an uncomfortable and possibly unwilling leader. He seemed happier – and certainly more prodigious – behind the scenes.
He is a genuinely accomplished writer – my guess is Rehbein was responsible for the moodier and more wistful melancholy of Kaempfert’s music (Kaempfert’s thing was swing) – as well as a sensitively seasoned arranger who was able to corral large groups of strings, horns and rhythm into a beautiful singular whole. Again, easy ain’t easy.
A lot of Kaempfert’s success is due to Herbert Rehbein. Certainly, both owe much to producer (and occasional songwriting partner) Milt Gabler for their international renown. But Herbert Rehbein was the man behind the curtain: the maker of magic. Not the face of the music, but the body and soul of it.
The summer of 1967 is best remembered for Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band, The Doors’ “Light My Fire” and, of course, as the Summer of Love. But, as listeners at the time may recall, it is also when the German composer and bandleader Bert Kaempfert (1923-80) was at the peak of his own popularity – and, notably, right here in the United States.
Best remembered now as an easy-listening maestro who scored dozens of best-selling orchestral and mostly instrumental records in the sixties and seventies, Kaempfert was an especially prolific composer (and co-composer) of mostly “pretty” tunes that became hits for other artists, particularly popular American vocalists.
Kaempfert’s success started early in the decade when his orchestra’s cover of “Wonderland by Night” – a song, recorded in 1959, which he surprisingly couldn’t get released in his native Germany – turned in to a worldwide number one hit in November 1960. He then went on to discover The Beatles, producing the Fab Four’s earliest recordings that same year.
Embarking on a series of easy-listening records for the Decca label (in the U.S. and on Polydor in Europe), Kaempfert consistently sold well and solidified his place as a composer of catchy, memorable tunes and often beautiful, yet catchy melodies. He also waxed elegantly on jazz and swing standards – notably avoiding many of pop’s tops and the AM radio hits that so many of the other bandleaders of the day were trading in on at the time.
Kaempfert had his own hits with “Tenderly” (1961), “Afrikaan Beat” (1962 – beautifully revived forty years later in the film About Schmidt), “Red Roses for a Blue Lady” and “Three O’clock in the Morning” (both 1965).
But as a composer, Kaempfert also had a hand in such hits for Elvis Presley (“Wooden Heart,” 1961), Wayne Newton (“Danke Schoen,” 1963 and “Remember When,” 1965), Al Martino (“Spanish Eyes,” 1965), Nat “King” Cole (“L.O.V.E.,” 1964), Jack Jones (“Lady,” 1967) and, most notably, Frank Sinatra’s “comeback” hit “Strangers in the Night” (1966) – a song the legendary singer allegedly hated.
Kaempfert became relentlessly covered. Indeed, the music publisher BMI awarded Kaempfert Special Citations of Achievement “in recognition of the great national popularity as measured by over 1 million broadcast performances” for his compositions “Danke Schoen,” “Lady,” “The World We Knew (Over and Over),” “Spanish Eyes,” “Strangers in the Night” and “Sweet Maria.”
Among Kaempfert’s most popular songs, SecondHandSongs lists 312 recorded covers of “Spanish Eyes,” the 51st most popular song in 1965, and 379 covers of “Strangers in the Night,” the 21st most popular song in 1966.
While Kaempfert was nominated only once for a Grammy Award (“Strangers in the Night”) and Kaempfert (and James Last) engineer Peter Klemt was unaccountably nominated only once for his work on Bert’s album The Kaempfert Touch (1970), little wonder why Kaempfert felt unstoppable. Awards didn’t matter…sales did.
”Kaempfert predicts,” roared a Billboard magazine headline in May 13, 1967, “[a] shift to soft music.”
”I have made it a little easier,” said the composer at the time, “for both new and old vocalists of the soft-sell school to get recorded and sell their records.”
And so it was…for a few more weeks.
”Already,” Kaempfert boasted of his then-forthcoming record (…Love That Bert Kaempfert), "Frank Sinatra, Dean Martin, Al Martino, Andy Williams, Bobby Darin and Wayne Newton will record songs from my new album and the lyrics for these songs haven't been written yet."
For the record, Andy Williams did cover the earlier “Strangers in the Night” and “Spanish Eyes” – nothing from “my new album” – but Bobby Darin (1936-73) never issued anything written by Bert Kaempfert.
But while Bert was busting out all over, the summer of 1967 happened. That summer saw a seismic shift in popular music: from the Brill Building and folk to rock and the rise of the singer-songwriter. Suddenly, there was a whole new generation of record buyer. The “kids” of the day were no longer listening to or buying the “vocalists of the soft-sell school.”
Still, Kaempfert managed to chart with songs aimed at the “easy listening” crowd – known today as the slightly hipper “Adult Contemporary” set – at least for a few more years.
Kaempfert and his co-writers, notably long-time partner Herbert Rehbein, conceived a prodigious number of songs that became hits for English-speaking singers. This was likely facilitated by Kaempfert’s American producer and frequent co-writer, Milt Gabler. And most charted.
What follows is a list of those Bert Kaempfert compositions by others that charted on the Billboard Hot 100 (*) or on other charts that made such performances notable. Note: “AC” = the Adult Contemporary chart listing, while “UK” = the United Kingdom chart listing:
“Wooden Heart” by Elvis Presley (1961, #1 UK; 2005, #2 UK [!] – released twice in the US in 1964 and 1965, though neither issue charted)
(*) “Wooden Heart” by Joe Dowell (1961, #1)
(*) “A Swingin’ Safari” by The Billy Vaughn Singers (1962, #13, #5 AC)
(*) “Danke Shoen” by Wayne Newton (1963, #13, #3 AC)
(*) “L-O-V-E” by Nat King Cole (1964, #81, #17 AC)
(*) “Only Those in Love” by Baby Washington (1965, #73, #10 R&B)
(*) “Remember When” by Wayne Newton (1965, #69, #15 AC)
(*) “Spanish Eyes” by Al Martino (1965, #15, #1 AC)
(*) “Strangers in the Night” by Frank Sinatra (1966, #1 US/AC/UK)
(*) Weiderseh’n” by Al Martino (1966, #57, #3 AC)
(*) “Lady” by Jack Jones (1967, #39, #1 AC)
“Sweet Maria” by The Billy Vaughn Singers (1967, #6 AC)
“The Lady Smiles” by Matt Monro (1967, #11 AC)
“Sweet Maria” by Steve Lawrence (1967, #23 AC)
(*) “The World We Knew (Over and Over)” by Frank Sinatra (1967, #30, #1 AC)
“It Makes No Difference” by Vic Damone (1967, #39 AC)
“Don’t Talk to Me” by Johnny Mathis (1967, #21 AC)
“I Can’t Help Remembering You” by The Anita Kerr Singers (1967, #15 AC)
(*) “Lonely is the Name” by Sammy Davis, Jr. (1968, #93, #12 AC)
(*) “My Way of Life” by Frank Sinatra (1968, #64, #3 AC)
“The Maltese Melody” by Herb Alpert & The Tijuana Brass (1970, #14 AC)
(*) “You Turned My World Around” by Frank Sinatra (1974, #83, #11 AC).
(*) “Wooden Heart” by Bobby Vinton (1975, #58, #23 AC)
“Strangers in the Night” by Bette Midler (1976, #45 AC)
“Spanish Eyes” by Charlie Rich (1979, #20 Country)
“Spanish Eyes” by Willie Nelson with Julio Iglesias (1988, #8 Country)
Kaempfert also penned many more songs that didn’t chart. For example, Wayne – “Mr. Las Vegas” – Newton also covered such additional Kaempfert trifles as “Don’t Talk to Me” (1965) as well as “L-O-V-E,” “Moon Over Naples,” “The Yo Yo Puppet Song” (also covered by trumpeter Al Hirt), “Wiedersehn” and “Remember When” (all 1966).
Rat Pack crooner Dean Martin took on the Kaempfert nuggets “Take Me” (1963), “I Can’t Help Remembering You” (1967) and “Welcome to My Heart” (1968) – interestingly, though, none of these were ever issued as singles.
Singer and actress Jane Morgan recorded Kaempfert’s “Now and Forever” in 1966 while Johnny Mathis put out the Kaempfert tunes “Every Time I Dream of You” (1968), “Strangers in the Night” (1969) and the 1970 album Johnny Mathis Sings The Music of Bacharach & Kaempfert. (The Kaempfert pieces from that album were issued separately as a Bert tribute LP in Europe, although, quite curiously, none of the Kaempfert tunes were ever issued as singles.)
Mathis recorded his Kaempfert tribute in Hamburg with Kaempfert’s own orchestra, although none of the Kaempfert tunes from the set were issued as singles. Singers in the 21st century continue covering Kaempfert, including Joss Stone, Marc Almond, Jon Secada, Diana Krall and Helen Schneider, who recorded a full-on tribute in her The World We Knew – The Bert Kaempfert Album (2010).
Bert Kaempfert continued recording and performing with his orchestra throughout the seventies, but his appeal as a hit songwriter had largely dissipated. Since his early death at age 56 in 1980, Kaempfert’s prodigious catalog has often been reissued on CD and is available to this day on most streaming platforms. The music of Bert Kaempfert continues to resonate in the samples of his magic by such artists as Nicola Conte, Naughty by Nature, Lil’ Kim, Chelsea Collins, G-Eazy and others.
The German composer and bandleader Bert Kaempfert (1923-80) was a singular force in music in the sixties. Not only was he the first person to “discover” and record The Beatles (and, curiously, one of the few orchestral leaders that didn’t much cover The Beatles), he also gave Elvis Presley a huge European hit, “Wooden Heart” (from the 1960 Elvis Presley film G.I. Blues).
From the early fifties, Kaempfert – a talent scout as well as bandleader – had recorded successful orchestral records in Germany. But he achieved international success and acclaim with his cover of “Wonderland by Night,” a number one hit in the United States in 1960.
Throughout the sixties and seventies, Kaempfert put out dozens of records (for the Decca label in the U.S.), all recorded in Hamburg and supervised by American producer Milt Gabler that sold very well. The mostly instrumental records were considered “beautiful music” and filed under “easy listening,” and featured Europe’s leading musicians parlaying Kaempfert’s signature sound.
Kaempfert also penned many American hits for a variety of singers from Wayne Newton, Connie Francis, Al Martino, Dean Martin, Nat King Cole, Sammy Davis, Jr. and, notably, one of Frank Sinatra’s “come back” hits, “Strangers in the Night” (1966).
Naturally, these songs were covered by other singers, jazz instrumentalists and lounge meisters spinning out easy-listening records of their own. Several artists even devoted full albums to Bert Kaempfert’s music. These albums were recorded between 1963 and 1969, during Kaempfert’s hit heyday. (Kaempfert recorded up to his 1980 death, but his records stopped appearing in the States five years earlier.)
This essay considers albums by Bobby Hackett, Anita Kerr, Pete Fountain, Al Hirt and the Living Strings. But later Bert Kaempfert tribute albums were also waxed by Johnny Mathis (1970 – recorded in Hamburg with Kaempfert’s orchestra), fellow bandleader Paul Kuhn (2003), former Kaempfert player Jiggs Whigham (2006), vibraphonist Christopher Dell (2007 – with Kaempert’s “knack bass” player Ladi Geisler on guitar) and the maestro's grandson, trumpeter Stefan Kaempfert (2011).
Bobby Hackett Plays The Music Of Bert Kaempfert (1964)
Jazz trumpeter and cornetist Bobby Hackett (1915-76) was initially (and latterly) associated with Dixieland, but earned his jazz chops in the bands of Eddie Condon, Benny Goodman and, most notably, Glenn Miller – often earning positive praise as the heir apparent to the great Bix Beiderbecke. He was also the featured soloist on many of Jackie Gleason’s mood music records of the fifties, offering a pleasing, light but soothingly sultry touch of jazz to those recordings.
Hackett’s “superbly gentle tone,” as Leonard Feather put it, made him the ideal candidate to front, if maybe not the first Bert Kaempfert tribute, then surely the first one to hit American shores.
Bobby Hackett Plays The Music Of Bert Kaempfert is a sequel to the 1963 Hackett tribute to Henry Mancini. Both discs were expertly – if not also, experimentally – arranged by keyboard virtuoso Dick Hyman, who is as responsible for the success of this Kaempfert tribute as Hackett.
Here, Hackett covers three of Kaempfert’s U.S. hits (“Wonderland by Night,” “Now and Forever” and “Afrikaan Beat”) as well as “Danke Schoen,” Wayne Newton’s 1963 American hit (Hyman covered the tune on his 1963 album Fabulous). Five of the tunes Hackett covers here come from Kaempfert’s terrific 1962 disc That Happy Feeling (released, for the most part, in Europe as A Swingin’ Safari) – emphasizing how much fun Kaempfert’s music was.
Indeed, Hackett swings this safari. His jazz roots kick Kaempfert’s music into gear while Dick Hyman’s typically quirky arrangements and various keyboard accompaniment work well here. The pair bring out the Mancini in “The Bass Walks” and Kaempfert’s melodic gift for such catchy numbers as “A Swingin’ Safari,” “Afrikaan Beat” and the appropriately “Happy Trumpeter” (covered several years later by Herb Alpert and the Tijuana Brass as “Magic Trumpet”).
The album’s highlight is surely the imaginative and delightfully spunky “Mexican Market Day,” a supercharged take on “Market Day.” It’s a wonder how this gem – which easily could have been titled “African Market Day” – never became a hit. It seems no one bothered trying. Here, as on the other up-tempo numbers, Hyman drives the beat a little harder and faster than Kaempfert does on the original – a key to the album’s success and what Cashbox called the album’s “bright freshness.”
In addition to breezy solos from Hackett and Hyman, guitar solos add an attractive edge to this very worthy tribute (Joe Puma, George Barnes and Jimmy Mitchell are the session’s guitarists). Bobby Hackett Plays The Music Of Bert Kaempfert is among the best of the Kaempfert tributes and the closest any of these recordings come to jazz. Hackett’s Mancini and Kaempfert’s tribute discs were combined for a single – and highly recommended – CD release in 2002.
The Anita Kerr Singers: Bert Kaempfert Turns Us On (1967)
Anita Kerr (1927-2022) wrote, arranged and conducted scores of records in the sixties and seventies for herself and many others. She also led a quartet of vocalists called the Anita Kerr Singers – based in Nashville in the early sixties (mostly in a country bag), Los Angeles in the late sixties (all in decidedly easy tempos) and in Europe thereafter in a variety of secular and non-secular circumstances.
Kerr had previously recorded a tribute to Henry Mancini and would later record one to Burt Bacharach. Released in mid-1967, Bert Kaempfert Turns Us On seems to suggest the German bandleader’s hit compositions were cool – the way your dad’s music is cool to you. Popular though they may have been, these songs were most likely not embraced by the Summer of Love crowd.
The hits covered here are an impressive lot: “Wonderland by Night” (1961) for Anita Bryant (the 1960 instrumental was Kaempfert’s first international hit), “Danke Schoen” (1963) and “Remember When” (1965) for Wayne Newton, “Spanish Eyes” (1965) for Al Martino, “Love” (1965) for Nat King Cole, “Strangers in the Night” (1966) and “The World We Knew” (1967) for Frank Sinatra, “I Can’t Help Remembering You” (1967) for Dean Martin and “Lady” (1967) for Jack Jones.
But Kerr turns down the heat and volume to such a degree that what we get are pretty, though ultimately, downer dirges. It sounds all hushed and dreamy, in a way meant to lull – or scare – children or listeners right to sleep.
Among the album’s few surprises are “Two Can Live on Love Alone,” which no one else seems to have ever covered, a slightly rousing “A Swingin’ Safari” replete with a jaunty set of lyrics (credited to someone named “Tansey”) and “For Bert,” a musically clever though lyrically confusing bit of fun from Kerr and lyricist Rod McKuen.
While seven of this album’s dozen songs were recorded by Johnny Mathis in Hamburg with longtime Kaempfert arranger Herbert Rehbein in 1970 for Johnny Mathis Sings the Music of Bacharach and Kaempfert, Kaempfert himself recorded “For Bert” on his 1975 album Love Walked In (which was never released in the US). Bert Kaempfert Turns Us On has been issued on CD in several variations.
Pete Fountain Plays Bert Kaempfert (1967)
This may be the most notable, if not the best, of all the Bert Kaempfert tribute albums discussed here. Pete Fountain (born Pierre Dewey Fountaine, Jr. in New Orleans), was already a veteran of Lawrence Welk’s orchestra and the Dukes of Dixieland and owned and operated a popular club in New Orleans’s French Quarter.
In early 1967, Fountain (1930-2016) traveled to Hamburg, Germany to record his own Bert Kaempfert tribute album – with no less than Bert Kaempfert’s own orchestra! Kaempfert’s lifelong musical associate Herbert Rehbein (1922-79) did the arrangements and Bert himself provided two new tunes to the program: “For Pete’s Sake” (also the album’s single) and the marvelous, though all too-brief “Have a Ball.” Neither tune ever popped up on Kaempfert’s own recordings.
All the usual suspects are here, including the then-recent hit take of “Strangers in the Night” – listed correctly as “A Theme From The Universal Picture ‘A Man Could Get Killed’,” even though no song of that title is on that soundtrack album. But Fountain seems to be on low burn. None of the fervor or swagger of New Orleans followed him to Hamburg. While there is a pleasant addition of marimba on some tracks, the producer (Fountain’s regular, Charles “Bud” Dant, and not Milt Gabler, Kaempfert’s regular helmsman) unwisely tamped down Ladi Geisler’s signature “Knackbass” throughout.
This safari doesn’t swing hard or often enough, but when it does it’s worth hearing. “For Pete’s Sake” was featured some years back on a Bert Kaempfert CD anthology, but the full album has yet to appear on CD.
Al Hirt Plays Bert Kaempfert (1968)
Dixieland trumpeter Al Hirt (1922-99) found fame in the mid-sixties as a hit instrumentalist on such catchy numbers as “Java” and “Cotton Candy.” But he was more than just a purveyor of novelty numbers. His long career was devoted to jazz and the music of his native New Orleans as well as the popular fare of the day. In his only album devoted to a single composer, Hirt recorded this tribute to Bert Kaempfert in 1967 (officially released in January 1968).
Bert Kaempfert had previously covered Hirt’s hits “Java” and “Cotton Candy” on his 1964 album Blue Midnight. Hirt, for his part, had covered such Kaempfert trifles as “Strangers in the Night,” on the 1965 disc Al Hirt Live at the Al Hirt Club (also here) and, most notably, “Yo Yo (Puppet Song)” (a.k.a. “Monte Carlo”) on the trumpeter’s 1967 disc Music to Watch Girls By.
Al Hirt Plays Bert Kaempfert (better known as Hirt Plays Bert) is a real feast, or trumpeter’s treat. While the disc’s liner note tries to convey a collaboration of Hirt and Bert – which it is surely not (the album was recorded in Nashville) – the disc surprisingly and successfully replicates a Kaempfert recording. Ace arranger Lenny Kirkland provides better than suitable arrangements and Hirt’s swinging horn really adds something muscular to the program.
Highlights include the Flamenco take on “Spanish Eyes,” the almost funky “Afrikaan Beat,” “A Swingin’ Safari,” and the surprisingly engaging “Sweet Maria” – all benefiting from Kirkland’s subtlety effective work (his lovely take on “Wonderland by Night” is worth savoring as well). Hirt masters the otherwise downbeat “Danke Schoen” in a way that must have made Kaempfert proud.
While this is hardly the Hirt-Bert collaboration it proports to be, it is far better than a merely fair approximation. It’s a shame that Hirt and Bert never actually worked together. This is another album that has never appeared on CD.
Living Strings Plus Trumpet Play Bert Kaempfert Hits (1969)
In the sixties, the budget label RCA Camden sponsored a huge number of easy-listening collections by such studio outfits as the Living Voices (for which the aforementioned Anita Kerr helmed several recordings), Living Brass, Living Guitars, Living Marimbas and Living Percussion.
The label’s best-known entity, however, was the Living Strings, which produced scads of easy-listening tributes and collections that literally became the model for what is now known as “elevator music.” These things flew off the shelves of grocery stores, drug stores and five and dimes – for those old enough to remember such venues selling LPs back in the day.
The brainchild of Ethel Gabriel (1921-2021) – one of the earliest women executives at any record label and producer of acclaimed records by Elvis Presley, Henry Mancini and Perry Como – the Living Strings was “formed” or created in 1959 and recorded dozens of albums through 1980. There was no such orchestra as the “Living Strings” per se. Studio musicians were recorded around the world to produce records that were ultimately to become known as the Living Strings.
After tributes to The Monkees, Jim Reeves and more than a few musicals – not to mention a record to help you stop smoking – the Living Strings put out an album-length tribute to Bert Kaempfert. The studio group had previously covered Kaempfert’s “Danke Shoen” on Sentimental Journey (1964) and the delightful “Jingo Jango” on its White Christmas (1968). This one was recorded in England, where Kaempfert and fellow German band leader James Last had a huge following.
Beautifully arranged by the British bandleader Geraldo and German ex-pat Bernard Ebbinghouse (John Barry, Cliff Richard), this 1969 tribute is far better than any skeptic might guess. The strings are, as expected, lush and vibrant. But the album actually swings more than expected, particularly on the usually dour “Danke Schoen,” which has a positively Count Basie vibe about it, and the almost anthemic “L.O.V.E.” Or, as the album boldly claims: “A Striking Combination of Lavishness and Spirit!” If that means anything.
Predictably, the arrangers stick with Kaempfert’s prettier tunes (which is why they were hits in the first place), but they make wise choices throughout. The set opens with a lovely take of “Spanish Eyes,” adding a marimba undercurrent that seems nicely informed by “Spanish Harlem.” It’s a whole new way of hearing this overly familiar melody. Combining the marimba with Spanish guitars gives “Wonderland by Night,” Kaempfert’s first American hit, a romantic feel straight out of an old movie.
The gorgeous “The World We Knew,” whose strings and electric bass suggest John Barry’s score to On Her Majesty’s Secret Service, particularly “We Have All the Time in the World.” The ethereal “Sweet Maria” and “(You Are) My Way of Life” would also hardly sound out of place on a James Bond soundtrack as heard here.
This is a set that no doubt pleased Kaempfert – who began using more strings on his own recordings around this time. It’s easy to enjoy and among the best of the sets in this bunch. Unfortunately, Living Strings Plus Trumpet Play Bert Kaempfert Hits never found its way on to CD but is easily available and well worth hearing on streaming services.
The composer, arranger, conductor and record producer Don Sebesky wrote film and TV scores, orchestrated Broadway productions and worked on the classier albums by such pop vocalists as Barry Manilow, Christina Aguilera, Rod Stewart, Michael Bublé, Bette Midler, Barbara Streisand, Seal and John Pizzarelli.
But Sebesky, who passed away on April 29 at age 85, was – by most accounts – best known for some of the most important and memorable jazz records of the sixties and seventies. Many of these were produced by Creed Taylor for the Verve, A&M and CTI labels by such artists as Wes Montgomery, George Benson, Paul Desmond, Freddie Hubbard, Hubert Laws and others.
This was a period when jazz was in flux, notably from the rise of pop music and finally, rock and roll. Sebesky rode the wave, adapting many pop and rock hits – notably Beatles covers – and wound up finding his voice on jazz-inflected covers of classical tunes. When the whole fusion thing devolved into the “smooth jazz” of the early eighties, Sebesky completely opted out.
Many think Sebesky cheapened jazz with his arrangements. But either they weren’t listening or they just were plain wrong. Rather than superimposing his charts on soloists, Sebesky would often consider his additions as part of the group. Just like jazz. This made Sebesky stand out from the crowd. His work helped craft what became the “CTI sound” – often replicated but never matched.
Like a film that doesn’t call attention to its direction, Sebesky’s charts only made great (and often legendary) soloists sound even better.
In the spirit of the New York Times, my original intention here was to spotlight the “ten essentials” associated with Don Sebesky’s vast body of work – over sixty years’ worth of recordings. The recordings run the gamut of big band, jazz, crossover and fusion to pop, cabaret, Broadway and light classics.
But I could only pare the list down to 15 songs, the majority of which originally appeared on Creed Taylor productions from the mid-sixties to the early eighties. Many of these pieces are jazz classics and some are forgotten gems. But if I’ve missed anything you think is important, please feel free to leave a message below.
”Bumpin’” – Wes Montgomery (1965)
The first pairing of guitarist Wes Montgomery with arranger Don Sebesky was initially met with much hostility. But more than half a century later, “Bumpin’” has withstood the test of time. It’s neither as florid as some thought nor as dated as much other material from this period turned out to be. Montgomery’s haunting melody (not to be confused with the more popular “Bumpin’ on Sunset”) is perfected by Sebesky’s subtle string and pizzicato harp counterpoints. The arranger ramps up the drama for a brief but stirring string crescendo (04:18-04:58) that allows the guitarist to go out with the embers of lovely harp arpeggios. It’s the epitome of economy and elegance.
”A Day in the Life” – Wes Montgomery (1967)
The Beatles’ intriguing, complex and trippy “A Day in the Life” receives a positively dazzling reading here. It’s often considered the Fab Four’s greatest song and Wes Montgomery’s cover is among the finest jazz cover of any Beatles song. Herbie Hancock, Ron Carter and Grady Tate lay down a swampy blues groove that propels Montgomery on a signature course. The guitarist positively owns the melody here and solos off it beautifully. For the first four minutes of this “Day,” Sebesky only hints at what’s to come: single-note vibes counterpoints, strings and harps rumbles, bass flute riffs leading to impending doom string flourishes. Sebesky wisely opts not to orchestrate George Martin’s “end of the world” bridge to the song’s “middle eight” section (“Woke up, fell out of bed…”), perhaps sensing it wasn’t easily copied or bettered. He goes full-on orchestral during McCartney’s “ahh ahh ahhh” interlude in a blend of strings and horns that surely made Martin proud. (McCartney supposedly told producer Creed Taylor that he particularly admired Montgomery’s cover of “A Day in the Life.”) Sebesky’s dreamy (druggy?) fade-out is an atonal, though melodic, wash that finds Montgomery gamely contributing avant-garde chords of his own. For earlier evidence of Sebesky’s talent with strings, check out saxophonist Charlie Mariano’s cover of Russ Freeman’s “The Wind” on A Portrait of Charlie Mariano (1963), a magnificent recording.
”Up and At It” – Wes Montgomery (1968)
This might seem an unusual choice of “essential” Don Sebesky as there’s so little Don Sebesky to be heard here. But that’s the point. “Up and At It” is Wes at his funky best, with Herbie Hancock, Ron Carter and Grady Tate driving the guitarist along. It hardly needed any sweetening and, indeed, it doesn’t get much. What Sebesky does contribute are brief counterpoints: one-note vibes chords (reacting to Carter’s bass), a small string section (first echoing Montgomery’s melody, then later riffing off his solo) and three barely audible flutes. “Up and At It” is the pinnacle of poetry in Montgomery and Sebesky’s musical relationship. Like the best of Sebesky’s work, it’s subtle and effective in crossing a good performance over the finish line to great. Sebesky would apply a similar approach to Montgomery’s “Goin’ on to Detroit” (also from Down Here on the Ground), George Benson’s “Footin’ It” and Paul Desmond’s ethereal take on “El Condor Pasa.”
”Forget” – Jack Sheldon (1968)
In the late sixties, Don Sebesky produced and arranged two little-known albums for trumpeter and vocalist Jack Sheldon (best known today forSchoolhouse Rock!’s “Conjunction Junction” and “I’m Just a Bill”). Both sets mix pop hits of the day – Sebesky’s Wes-like take on “The Look of Love” is especially notable – with Sebesky originals. This one, the Spanish-tinged “Forget,” is one of Sebesky’s very best compositions. Sheldon’s beautifully mournful trumpet imbues Sebesky’s signature melody with the haunted romanticism of its title. It’s a torch song in the best tradition. “Forget” was later covered by violinist Jean-Luc Ponty, trumpeter Blue Mitchell (with Lee Ritenour and Harold Land) and Brazilian organist Walter Wanderley. Surprisingly, “Forget” was never covered on a CTI album, which may be why the song isn’t much better known. It’s a beauty, though.
”Guru-vin” – Don Sebesky with Larry Coryell (1969)
Before Don Sebesky shifted to more serious work, adapting classical composers to jazz and devoting tributes to the canonical (Sondheim, Ellington, Bill Evans), he adopted scores of pop, rock, Beatles and charting R&B of the day to jazz. He also composed terrifically engaging pieces of crossover work. The cleverly-titled “Guru-vin,” from Sebesky’s all but forgotten 1969 master patchwork The Distant Galaxy (often considered the artist billing as well as the album title), is one such piece. “Guru-vin” taps as much into the psychedelic music of the day as well as seemingly poking fun of it. Guitarist Larry Coryell mans the electric sitar here while studio vocalist Lois Winter pairs with a high horn section for a melodic counterpoint. The funky “Guru-vin” was never issued as a single and didn’t find an audience until decades later when it was revived as part of the acid jazz movement. Sebesky’s “Beatles strings” (toward the end) add just the right spice to this East-meets-West mash-up that knows how to get down. Coryell, who also guested on Sebesky’s Beatles covers “Lady Madonna” (from The Distant Galaxy) and the earlier “The Word” (from the 1969 album Don Sebesky & The Jazz Rock Syndrome) would reunite with Sebesky many years later on the guitarist’s 1993 disc Fallen Angel and the arranger’s 1998 disc I Remember Bill – A Tribute to Bill Evans.
”The Court of the Crimson King” – Doc Severinsen (1970)
This bravura piece of writing is based on the only hit British prog rockers King Crimson ever had. By all accounts, Sebesky was a fan. Sebesky’s brilliant and complex makeover is fusion of the highest order, worthy of any CTI record (Sebesky also produced here). The arranger pairs six horn men off in remarkable fashion: the trumpets of Doc Severinsen and John Frosk, the trombones of Rod Levitt and Paul Faulise, and Stan Webb on flute and Tommy Newsome on tenor sax. Mention should be made of the terrific support work of Joe Beck on acoustic guitar (giving those sections the Spanish flair Sebesky would later patent), the Fender Rhodes of either Derek Smith or Ross Tompkins and the flawless drums of longtime Severinsen ally Ed Shaughnessy. This “Court of the Crimson King” is what a James Bond soundtrack might sound like if it had more jazz.
”Scarborough Fair/Canticle” – Paul Desmond (1970)
This traditional English ballad was adapted by Paul Simon for Simon & Garfunkel, whose version was featured on the hit soundtrack to The Graduate. Sebesky had already arranged the song for the Soul Flutes and was Grammy-nominated for his uniquely Baroque arrangement of “Scarborough Fair” for Wes Montgomery (both 1968). But this is the version to hear. It comes from an album Sebesky produced and arranged for alto saxophonist Paul Desmond, Bridge Over Troubled Water, a set devoted to songs written or adapted by Paul Simon (the two Pauls shared the same agent). Considering Desmond wasn’t especially familiar or comfortable with Simon’s music, the album is a triumph. Credit Sebesky not only for the record’s artistic success but its considerable pleasures. Sebesky is not often celebrated for his commendable ability with traditional and contemporary folk music, but “Scarborough Fair” is among his best. Also of note here are Sebesky’s take on “Mrs. Robinson,” also from The Graduate, and the breathtaking album opener “El Condor Pasa.”
”The Rite of Spring” – Hubert Laws (1971)
Russian composer Igor Stravinsky’s ballet “The Rite of Spring” caused quite an uproar when it debuted in Paris in 1913. Experimenting with tonality, meter, rhythm and dissonance, Stravinsky’s piece was considered scandalously avant-garde by the French audience at the time. It’s all grist for Sebesky’s mill. In his variation, Sebesky weaves several of the ballet’s themes together – notably, the ballet’s signature solo bassoon opening (Part 1 – Adoration of the Earth: “Introduction”) and the first dance, “Augurs of Spring” – as a nine-minute feature for flautist Hubert Laws. Sebesky and Laws had collaborated on classical themes by Bach, Debussy and Fauré – all of which likely pleased the collaborators more than jazz fans. None of those other classics swung as well as “The Rite of Spring” does here. Especially notable here are David Friedman on vibes, Ron Carter on bass, Jack DeJohnette on drums and Bob James on keyboards. Sebesky would revisit “The Rite of Spring” on his 1979 album Three Works for Jazz Soloists & Symphony Orchestra (a.k.a. Compositional Jazz): it’s a bit more orchestral than this but offers a wide array of great jazz soloists. This is the one to dig.
”White Rabbit” – George Benson (1972)
While it’s not certain whose idea it was for guitarist George Benson to cover this 1967 hit by the Jefferson Airplane, it was Sebesky who opted to cast Grace Slick’s original in a Spanish mode. Curiously, Slick based the song’s text on Alice in Wonderland, while the music she composed was informed by Miles Davis’s album Sketches of Spain, particularly that album’s centerpiece “Concierto de Aranjuez” – a piece we’ll come back to here. Sebesky uses Jay Berliner’s acoustic guitar and John Frosk’s trumpet to set the Spanish mood. Benson, Herbie Hancock and Hubert Laws solo. Surprisingly, this sort of thing may have seemed passe by 1971. But, like “The Court of the Crimson King,” Sebesky imbues the whole affair with an air of timelessness.
Sidebar: Some of George Benson’s most enjoyable – read: guitar-oriented – music during his CTI years is courtesy of Don Sebesky. These include “Footin’ It” (1968 – a song co-written with Benson and later sampled for Faith Evans’s “Mesmerized”), “Water Brother” (1969), “I Remember Wes” (1973) and “Serbian Blue” (1974).
“Firebird/Birds of Fire” – Don Sebesky (1973)
Don Sebesky’s 1973 album Giant Box is surely the composer and arranger’s magnum opus. It is one of the few double-disc sets on CTI and has more stars than a late-night sky. It also contains some of Sebesky’s best writing. The album’s opener, “Firebird/Birds of Fire,” originally took up the whole of the record’s first side. This mash up of Igor Stravinsky and the Mahavishnu Orchestra may not even be the album’s finest moment – there are many here – but it is a striking and successful blend of jazz with the classics. Hubert Laws and Freddie Hubbard solo and Margaret Ross is on harp.
“Psalm 150” – Don Sebesky (1973)
This curious, though clever, Jimmy Webb anthem seems to have been championed by Don Sebesky. He first arranged the piece – whose lyrics are derived from the final Psalm of the Bible – for trumpeter Doc Severinsen’s 1971 album Brass Roots. The little-known song appears to have been written for the British group Revelation for its eponymous (and only) 1970 album. Shortly thereafter, the song’s composer featured “Psalm 150” on his own album Words and Music. Coming out of the period that brought “Spirit in the Sky” (1969), not to mention Godspell (1970) and Jesus Christ Superstar (1971), “Psalm 150,” a.k.a. “Psalm One-Five-O,” seemed poised to make something of itself. (For the record, Sebesky lifted the Beatles’ appropriation, “He loves you, yeah, yeah, yeah,” directly from Webb’s original.) To these ears, the appeal of “Psalm 150” to Sebesky was Webb’s unusual and provocative melody. It is also one of the highlights of Sebesky’s Giant Box. Jackie & Roy sing the lead (after Sebesky himself offers an acapella Latin incantation), with (probably) Sebesky on Fender Rhodes, Ron Carter on bass and Billy Cobham on drums. Outstanding soloists here include Freddie Hubbard on trumpet, Ron Carter on bass and Bob James on organ. Sebesky’s charts throughout are magnificent and recall Lalo Schifrin’s work on Rock Requiem (1971).
”Footprints of the Giant” – Don Sebesky (1975)
“[M]y favorite composer is [Hungarian composer Béla] Bartók,” said Don Sebesky in his Giant Box interview with Didier Deutsch. “I think he’s probably the premier composer of the 20th century.” Sebesky’s earliest reflection on the themes of Bartók is the magisterial “Footprints of the Giant.” Originally written by Sebesky for the 1970 album Doc Severinsen’s Closet, this “Giant” – from Sebesky’s second CTI album, The Rape of El Morro, amps up the rock on this slice of jazz-meets-the-classics ephemera. It features Michael Brecker (and brother Randy in the piece’s intentionally avant-garde intro), a Hendrix-ized Joe Beck on guitar, the electric violin of David Rose and supersonic drummer Steve Gadd. It is noteworthy that Beck also soloed on the Severinsen version of “Footprints” as well. Sebesky would reconsider the Hungarian composer on his “Bird and Bela in B flat,” from the 1979 album Three Works for Jazz Soloists & Symphony Orchestra, what the composer dubbed as a “musical account of an imaginary meeting of Charlie ‘Bird’ Parker and Bela Bartok.”
”Concierto de Aranjuez” – Jim Hall (1975)
Guitarist Jim Hall’s performance of Joaquin Rodrigo’s “Concierto de Aranjuez” is surely among CTI’s greatest artistic triumphs. Gorgeously arranged in a remarkably minimalist fashion (no strings or horns were overdubbed in the making of this classic) by Don Sebesky, “Concierto de Aranjuez” features a stunning performance by not only the guitarist but offers lush solos from Chet Baker on trumpet and Paul Desmond on alto sax. The rhythm section is helmed beautifully by Roland Hanna on piano, Ron Carter on bass and Steve Gadd on drums. Like the 1960 presentation of the tune by Miles Davis and Gil Evans, Hall and Sebesky wax poetic on only the second of the 1939 composition’s three movements. But what is conveyed here is truly outstanding. Each and every second of this nearly 20-minute performance is well worth savoring. Don Sebesky would provide Hall with a sequel of sorts in “Lament for a Fallen Matador,” an adaptation of Tomaso Albioni’s well-known Adagio in G minor, for the guitarist’s 1977 album Commitment. The guitarist would again record “Concierto de Aranjuez,” this time with David Matthews – the man who succeeded Sebesky as CTI’s in-house arranger – on the 1981 Japanese album Concierto de Aranjuez (issued on CD in America in 1992). This version of the Rodrigo classic was considerably more orchestral and featured Hall, rather less distinctively, on acoustic guitar.
”El Morro” – Chet Baker (1977)
Sebesky originally conceived this Spanish-hued piece as the title track to his 1975 CTI album The Rape of El Morro, where, according to the album’s liner notes, its working title was “Spanish Blood.” There it was a feature for Michael Brecker, Roland Hanna and explorative vocalist Joan La Barbara. Brecker returns to Sebesky’s epic original to share the spotlight here with trumpeter Chet Baker for this more polished version, now simply titled “El Morro,” from Baker’s 1977 album You Can’t Go Home Again. The album, produced, arranged and conducted by Sebesky, is a mix of old and new, with “El Morro” successfully falling somewhere in between. Indeed, it’s the album’s centerpiece and not inaptly described by Baker biographer James Gavin as “a cross between Miles Davis’s Sketches of Spain and a Hollywood bullfighting scene.” With John Scofield adding the appropriate flamenco touch on acoustic guitar, Baker serves up one of the most muscular, dynamic and hypnotic performances of his entire career. He seems very much to be staking his claim on “El Morro” as his own “Aranjuez.” Driving him on are Hubert Laws on flute and piccolo, Richie Bierach on electric piano (who is denied a much-deserved solo), Ron Carter – who is high up in the mix here and who also played on the original – and Tony Williams, low in the mix, on drums. When outtakes from these 1977 sessions were issued in 1989 on the Baker album The Best Thing for You, a 17-minute “alternative composite take” of “El Morro” appeared that added an electric guitar solo from Scofield and the percussion and (Airto-like) vocals of Arto Tunchboyachi. Both versions of “El Morro,” as well as a 13-minute “incomplete take” of the tune, are included on the two-disc CD of You Can’t Go Home Again issued in 2000.
”Malagueña” – Chet Baker/Jim Hall/Hubert Laws (1982)
Don Sebesky likely encountered Cuban composer Ernesto Lecuona’s most famous piece, “Malagueña,” in Stan Kenton’s band in the late fifties. Kenton recorded his own arrangement of the song several years before Sebesky joined the band, but it was likely still in the band’s book at the time. This 1982 performance comes from one of CTI’s last great albums, Studio Trieste, a forum nominally led by trumpeter Chet Baker, guitarist Jim Hall and flautist Hubert Laws (though often credited solely to Hall). Like Sebesky’s arrangement for Jim Hall’s “Concierto de Aranjuez” (and the whole of the album Concierto), ”Malagueña” is scored for the soloists with a small group of supporters. At the risk of repeating myself: No strings or horns were overdubbed in the making of this classic. Baker, Hall and Laws are substantially supported only by Kenny Barron (who solos) on electric piano, George Mraz on bass and Steve Gadd on drums. Mraz, who isn’t as high in the mix as Ron Carter so often is on his CTI discs, acts as the matador to the soloists. A close listen reveals that everyone here is listening to everyone else. It is a performance that positively dances, absolutely swings. Each moment of the all-too brief Studio Trieste is magical. But ”Malagueña” is undoubtedly the album’s greatest moment.
In 1992, producer Creed Taylor edited this recording of ”Malagueña” as a feature for Jim Hall and overdubbed an “additional” arrangement by Jim Pugh for Youkali, a set of updated takes on previous recordings the guitarist made for the CTI label. Sebesky, for his part, would later record ”Malagueña” – in a very similar arrangement but with equally compelling soloists, including Eddie Daniels, Jim Pugh (!), Alex Foster and son Ken Sebesky – on his 1985 album Moving Lines, whose 1989 CD release cops – without credit – Alen MacWeeney’s liner photo from The Rape of El Morro. Hubert Laws also recorded a compelling Sebesky arrangement of ”Malagueña” (which also reunited Sebesky with vocalist Joan La Barbara) on the 1993 disc My Time Will Come.
