The Penguin Jazz Guide by Brian Morton, Richard Cook Page B
Authors: Brian Morton, Richard Cook
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scattered. The ballad playing on ‘Sweet Lorraine’ and ‘Blues My Naughty Sweetie Gives To Me’ is of a very high order and investigates a rare, cool vein in the Chicago jazz of the period. ‘Oh, Sister! Ain’t That Hot?’, ‘El Rado Scuffle’, ‘It’s Tight Like That’ and ‘Chicago Rhythm’ are further isolated successes, but the rest is rather discouraging.
Much of Noone’s output was spoiled by weak material, unsuitable arrangements, poor sidemen or a sentimental streak which eventually came to dominate the playing.
These are all familiar characteristics of the period, but Noone seemed oblivious to the excessive sweetness which overpowered so many of the records with his Apex Club band, named after his resident gig in Chicago. It was an interesting line-up with Noone out front and Joe Poston playing melody behind him. Jimmie had a mellifluous, rather sad-sounding tone and preferred his solos to be insinuating rather than fierce. Where Johnny Dodds, the other great New Orleans player of the day, was comparatively harsh, Noone sought to caress melodies. But the plunking rhythm sections, still dominated by banjos even in 1928–9, and the unsuitable front-line partners failed to give Noone the kind of sympathetic settings which would have made his romantic approach more feasible. Poston tarnishes many of the tunes, and his replacement, Pollack, is even worse; even Earl Hines, who plays on 18 tracks, can provide only flashes of inspiration.
All the same, it’s honest music and Noone points forward, albeit distantly, to some of the quieter jazz of a later age.
JABBO SMITH
Born Cladys Smith, 24 December 1908, Pembroke, Georgia; died 16 January 1991, New York City
Trumpet
Jabbo Smith 1929–1938
Classics 669
Smith; Omer Simeon, Willard Brown (cl, as); Leslie Johnakins, Ben Smith (as); Sam Simmons (ts); Millard Robins (bsx); Cassino Simpson, Kenneth Anderson, Alex Hill, William Barbee, James Reynolds (p); Ikey Robinson (bj); Connie Wainwright (g); Hayes Alvis, Lawson Buford (tba); Elmer James (b); Alfred Taylor (d). January 1929–February 1938.
Trumpeter Freddie Hubbard said (1982): ‘You keep hearing about what’s new in jazz, what’s “revolutionary” and so on. A while back I heard a cat out of Milwaukee: old recordings from the 1920s, but, I swear, he sounded like Fats Navarro, and bebop wasn’t meant to begin for another fifteen-some years. So either he was ahead of it all or there really is nothing new.’
Smith may have cut a dashing figure in late-’20s Chicago but he was cut down to size by drink and a poor attendance record and pretty much retired to Milwaukee. By 1940, he was barely visible, subsequently taking jobs outside music. He came back in the ’60s and ’70s and was in One Mo’ Time on Broadway in New York in the ’80s, reformed and intact, though understandably not the player he had been.
Until his rediscovery he was legendary as Armstrong’s most significant rival – that was the basis on which Brunswick signed him – in the ’20s, a dashing reputation that was won and lost before he reached his mid-20s. Like Pops, he’d learned to play in an orphanage. He had already made a name for himself with Charlie Johnson’s orchestra, but it was the 20 sides he cut with his Rhythm Aces that have endured as Smith’s contribution to jazz.
This Classics CD includes all of them, together with four tracks from a single 1938 session by Smith’s then eight-strong group. Smith’s style is like a thinner, wilder variation on Armstrong’s. He takes even more risks in his solos – or, at least, makes it seem that way, since he’s less assured at pulling them off than Louis was. Some passages he seems to play entirely in his highest register; others are composed of handfuls of notes, phrased in such a scattershot way that he seems to have snatched them out of the air. If it makes the music something of a mess, it’s a consistently exciting one. Organized round Smith’s own
Much of Noone’s output was spoiled by weak material, unsuitable arrangements, poor sidemen or a sentimental streak which eventually came to dominate the playing.
These are all familiar characteristics of the period, but Noone seemed oblivious to the excessive sweetness which overpowered so many of the records with his Apex Club band, named after his resident gig in Chicago. It was an interesting line-up with Noone out front and Joe Poston playing melody behind him. Jimmie had a mellifluous, rather sad-sounding tone and preferred his solos to be insinuating rather than fierce. Where Johnny Dodds, the other great New Orleans player of the day, was comparatively harsh, Noone sought to caress melodies. But the plunking rhythm sections, still dominated by banjos even in 1928–9, and the unsuitable front-line partners failed to give Noone the kind of sympathetic settings which would have made his romantic approach more feasible. Poston tarnishes many of the tunes, and his replacement, Pollack, is even worse; even Earl Hines, who plays on 18 tracks, can provide only flashes of inspiration.
All the same, it’s honest music and Noone points forward, albeit distantly, to some of the quieter jazz of a later age.
JABBO SMITH
Born Cladys Smith, 24 December 1908, Pembroke, Georgia; died 16 January 1991, New York City
Trumpet
Jabbo Smith 1929–1938
Classics 669
Smith; Omer Simeon, Willard Brown (cl, as); Leslie Johnakins, Ben Smith (as); Sam Simmons (ts); Millard Robins (bsx); Cassino Simpson, Kenneth Anderson, Alex Hill, William Barbee, James Reynolds (p); Ikey Robinson (bj); Connie Wainwright (g); Hayes Alvis, Lawson Buford (tba); Elmer James (b); Alfred Taylor (d). January 1929–February 1938.
Trumpeter Freddie Hubbard said (1982): ‘You keep hearing about what’s new in jazz, what’s “revolutionary” and so on. A while back I heard a cat out of Milwaukee: old recordings from the 1920s, but, I swear, he sounded like Fats Navarro, and bebop wasn’t meant to begin for another fifteen-some years. So either he was ahead of it all or there really is nothing new.’
Smith may have cut a dashing figure in late-’20s Chicago but he was cut down to size by drink and a poor attendance record and pretty much retired to Milwaukee. By 1940, he was barely visible, subsequently taking jobs outside music. He came back in the ’60s and ’70s and was in One Mo’ Time on Broadway in New York in the ’80s, reformed and intact, though understandably not the player he had been.
Until his rediscovery he was legendary as Armstrong’s most significant rival – that was the basis on which Brunswick signed him – in the ’20s, a dashing reputation that was won and lost before he reached his mid-20s. Like Pops, he’d learned to play in an orphanage. He had already made a name for himself with Charlie Johnson’s orchestra, but it was the 20 sides he cut with his Rhythm Aces that have endured as Smith’s contribution to jazz.
This Classics CD includes all of them, together with four tracks from a single 1938 session by Smith’s then eight-strong group. Smith’s style is like a thinner, wilder variation on Armstrong’s. He takes even more risks in his solos – or, at least, makes it seem that way, since he’s less assured at pulling them off than Louis was. Some passages he seems to play entirely in his highest register; others are composed of handfuls of notes, phrased in such a scattershot way that he seems to have snatched them out of the air. If it makes the music something of a mess, it’s a consistently exciting one. Organized round Smith’s own
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