Jazz - The Essential Collection, Vol. 1

Joe “King” Oliver was born in or near New Orleans on May 11, 1885 and died in Savannah, Georgia, on April 10, 1938. As cornettist and bandleader, he was regarded as one of the most significant musicians in the New Orleans style, which may be called the parent style of jazz. Certainly he was the only New Orleans cornettist of his generation to be extensively recorded in the 1920s, but at best, he transcended the style with which he was associated, as do all the outstanding musicians – for example “Jelly Roll” Morton and Sidney Bechet in this present volume. By far his most important recordings were made in 1923 with his Creole Band, which recorded quite prolifically by the standards of that time. The virtues of these performances are due to an integration of parts and players, to individual and collective skill and to tempos which produce superb rhythmic momentum. The whole is more than the sum of the parts, and an expressive content is projected through unified feeling and disciplined performance. Although a co-operative group of players and not composer- or arranger-led, the Creole Band was the precursor of all jazz, such as that of Ellington or the Modern Jazz Quartet, which depends on integral rather than individual excellence. Their performances were undoubtedly edited to fit the ten-inch 78 rpm disc’s space limits and this was done with rather unexpected skill, all elements being, in general, well balanced in relation to the time available. Inevitably there are a few banal passages, such as the slide-whistle solo, presumed to have been played by Baby Dodds, in Buddy’s Habit. Yet the teamwork of Oliver’s and Armstrong’s cornets, for instance on Weatherbird or Snake Rag, or Johnny Dodds’s blues-inflected solos, breaks and ensemble parts, as in Canal Street Blues or Working Man Blues, are far more characteristic. Perhaps the most valuable of the individual contributions, though, is the leader’s expressive muted playing, as on Sweet Lovin’ Man, Jazzin’ Babies Blues and, above all, both versions of his three-chorus solo in Dippermouth Blues. Although there are differences of emphasis between the two performances, this latter improvisation is almost certainly the first great jazz solo to be put on disc. The overall consistency of method, aim and achievement was seldom equalled by other recorded groups of that immediate period, and this high quality makes it hard, even misleading, to discuss separate titles. Some general comments must be made, however, especially about Oliver. As might be expected of one who was into jazz at such an early stage, he played in a comparatively four-square manner rhythmically speaking, and with clipped, melodic style. All this was in contrast to the purposeful irregularity of Armstrong and those who followed him. Careful listening reveals that the difference was beginning to emerge in the Creole Band, as when the younger man takes the lead for 32 bars in Froggie Moore , in part of the second account of Dippermouth Blues or towards the end of Mabel’s Dream. Armstrong’s very striking stop-time solo in Tears is a real thrust into the future, of course, as, to a lesser extent, is his solo over stop chords on Riverside Blues. Besides the cornet work in Dippermouth Blues, mention should also be made of Dodds’s fine preceding clarinet solo and also the one on Sweet Lovin’ Man, which, most unusually for this band, is accompanied only by the piano. By the mid-1920s, while it would not be true to say that Oliver’s own playing was outdated, it was at odds with what Armstrong, Beiderbecke, Hines, Hawkins and other leaders of the next generation of jazz were by then doing. He still had some good playing to offer, but he was never again as sure of his direction as he had been with the Creole Band – and presumably before that in New Orleans. He tended to be most effective not in front of his later bands but in less formal circumstances, as with Sippie Wallace’s Morning Dove Blues, on which the pianist is her brother, the gifted and short-lived Hersal Thomas. Though not much recorded, Sippie Wallace seems to have been among the finest singers of the so-called “classic” period, which is to say the 1920s, and the impact of her delivery is heightened by Oliver’s effective obbligato. Blind Willie Dunn’s Gin Bottle Four made an even more casual sort of music and the picturesque name conceals the guitar duetting of Lonnie Johnson and Eddie Lang, teamed with a pianist - possibly J. C. Johnson - a scat-singing Hoagy Carmichael and some of the best of Oliver’s later playing. Such music shows that he was indeed still King Oliver, and his artistic intuition occasionally imposed order and meaning on the music of his bands after the Creole outfit had broken up. The main trouble with the Dixie Syncopators was the saxophone section, for which hardly anyone at that time knew how to write effectively. Yet Too Bad, with its drive and excellent tempo, suggests how good this band might have become if Oliver had still had a clearly envisaged aim and consistent working method. Snag It, too, owes most of its quality, even its continuity, to the contact with deeper feelings he was able to impart. And Wa Wa Wa, a fast, powerful stomp, is perhaps the best of the Dixie Syncopators pieces, with a good Oliver solo plus breaks at the end. His final group of recordings was done in New York and although some of these offer better performances, they are less personal, less shaped by the especial qualities Oliver had brought to jazz. Made by pick-up groups, not a regular ensemble, these show an often haphazard imitation of current stock arranging practices. Sometimes the ambitions are purely commercial, yet still there are exceptions. Occasionally the conventions of the day are not just passively reflected but are used purposefully, as in Sweet Like This and Too Late. Even now, Oliver could still play well on occasion, and his two solos on the latter title are examples of this. Max Harrison One of Britain's most prolific music journalists, Max Harrison is the author of seven books, including Charlie Parker (1960), A Jazz Retrospect (1976), Modern Jazz: The Essential Records (1945 - 70) (with Alun Morgan, Michael James, Jack Cooke and Ronald Atkins), The New Grove Gospel, Blues & Jazz (with Paul Oliver and William Bolcom, 1987) and The Essential Jazz Records Vol. 1 - Ragtime To Swing (with Charles Fox and Eric Thacker, 1984). He began piano lessons at the age of six and later studied theory, harmony, counterpoint, orchestration and composition. He began writing regularly on jazz for Jazz Monthly in 1955, contributing hundreds of articles and record reviews. He has also written for The Times, The Gramophone, Jazz Forum, Jazz Perspectives, Les Cahiers Du Jazz, Musica Jazz, Crescendo and numerous other publications. Essays by Harrison appear in The Art Of Jazz (edited by Martin Williams, 1959), Jazz: New Perspectives On The History Of Jazz (edited by Nat Hentoff and Albert McCarthy, 1960), This Is Jazz (edited by Ken Williamson, 1961), Jazzmen of Our Time (edited byRaymond Horricks, 1962), Just Jazz Vols.2, 3 & 4 (edited by Sinclair Traill and Gerald Lascelles, 1959 - 61), Jazz Era: The '40s (edited by Stanley Dance, 1963) and Jazz On Record (edited by Albert McCarthy, 1968). He has contributed to The New Grove Dictionary Of Music And Musicians, The New Grove Dictionary Of Jazz and The New Grove Dictionary Of American Music. He is currently working on the second volume of The Essential Jazz Records - Modernism To Postmodernism.