I don't blog a lot, and mostly this blog is a supplement to my Twitter presence. But it is sometimes useful for sharing more verbose thoughts on a topic of fleeting interest, or for following up a Twitter conversation with more details or other information when somebody expresses an interest in a tweeted topic (often a recipe of some sort or another).
Today I've done a bit of housekeeping on the site. Mostly I've added some tabs at the top of the blog gathering together some topics which might otherwise never get seen again, until some random googler hits them. What would that be, perhaps once or twice per month?
So if you have interest in food-related chatter, my art series (which delved into the lives of twenty-one great artists of the past century and a half) or if you want to read some longer posts on rather pointless topics of my particular (& peculiar) interests, give the tab items above a click.
Meanwhile, this blog will continue forward with a minor post or three per year.
Ciao, from spring 2017.
Too Many Words™ on "Trust In Me"
In the series of Too Many Words™ posts this article explores a favourite jazz song. For other long reads on truly random topics, see the TooManyWords page.
I love the old jazz standard "Trust in Me" which has been a favourite of Jazz vocalists for the better part of a century. [Not to be confused with a more recent song of the same name that was used in the JungleBook Movie]. The jazz classic song dates all the way back to 1937, when penned by songwriters Ned Wever, Milton Ager, and Jean Schwartz but is probably best known as a 1960s hit for Etta James.
The first version I knew was the 1963 Dinah Washington one. It was on a compilation I acquired early in my burgeoning enthusiasm for Bebop jazz and grew on me as I came across other versions.
Washington's version is great for her trademark vocals. Though not as power-centric when compared against the energy of probably more-famous Etta James version, her more plaintive and understated style works well with the song's lyrical content. Where James evokes an almost hair-pulling frustration with her partner, Washington's is more of a late-night, heartfelt plea after a few drinks.
The recording is a bit strange, though. There's that little touch of misplaced reverb in the second stanza and orchestral accompaniment swells into a bit more of a 1940s feel than 1963 when it was recorded. But the brief trumpet piece before the bridge is pretty sweet, and worth the price admission.
Most notably, though, the ending of Washington's version is much more satisfying than is the Etta James arrangement, but more on that below the break. Have a listen:
The popular Etta James version of 1960 really nails it for raw emotion, and was suitably popular because of it. A modern listener can't help but think this is a little of the spirit that infected the latter-day, though already late, Amy Winehouse.
James starts the song soft, with almost a bit of a shy and raspy Billie Holiday feel. The recording is richer, warmer and more spacious.
Etta James gives us a plaintive lead-in but her tone quickly changes to punch the crap out of it. The band's horns don't really get involved until two thirds of the way through the song, but we're ready for them as James's pipes hit some notes worthy of a gritty trumpet solo.
The back-and-forth of her lows and highs takes us through a roller coaster of pleading, anger, lofty aspiration, and playfulness. It's that range that really sells it. Here's some playback from YouTube:
When you hear the power of her bridge, you think she has topped out, but she amps it up again in the last verse, going into the wrap up. But the arrangement ultimately disappoints in the wrap us, as all that power takes us nowhere. They opt for a rapid fade-out on her final pleas, rather than bring us to any sort of a conclusion, as Washington did so much more effectively.
I don't know the details of why there were two strong versions of the same song so close together – Washington's debuting three years after the James hit. Perhaps battling record companies? Washington's version was on Mercury vs. James released on the Argo label.
The song has some serious roots though. When we hear a remake of a song these days, we may think of it as a more modern thing – the recycling an old hit to try and cash in with a new generation. Of course that's a well oiled machination of the recording industry. And who can begrudge an artist inspired by a classic song, as long as they can do something new with it.
The original song came from the New York songwriting team Wever, Ager, Schwartz. They joined up from disparate backgrounds, originating from their respective New York, Chicago and Budapest origins.
The song hit for them in 1937 with a singer sporting that oh-so-marketable name Mildred Bailey. Have a listen to how it originally sounded:
The arrangement Bailey sings follows a more classic structure, beginning with a lead-in verse that gets dropped in later hit recordings. It evoked for me the feel of Hoagy Carmichael's infectious "Buttermilk Sky" (or the other way around, as his song is ten years later). The music is gentle, understated, and horn-centric, with an early jazz/ragtime feel. Both the trumpet and sax performances shine.
That opening verse provides some back story for her approach to her untrusting partner. It evokes more of a sense of a couple braving the wilds while homesteading in a frontier town. The edgier 1960s versions speak more of smokey jazz club infidelities and night life.
But the history of this song is broader than this in both directions. There was a strangely accented, mid-forties version by 'Hadda Brooks' (hear it on 78rpm record). While the vocal is strange, the music is very good. And it's the first recording I know of that drops that intro verse.
Two men recorded versions too - both Eddie Fisher and Louis Jordan recorded in a previous round in 1951. The Eddie Fisher version is really terrible. It features over-the-top choral background vocals more suited to a Walt Disney animation soundtrack. and a monotonously emotionless delivery by Fisher.
I haven't heard Louis Jordan's version - but his big-band really swings, so it would be interesting to see what he did with it.
Our modern celebrated Beyoncé did a version for a movie about a record industry. It didn't work out so well.
I'll let you decide for yourself, but she tries way too hard, rendering her attempt thin and forgettable.
She opens okay with a soft delivery, but quickly goes off the rails. She's not helped by the pathetic orchestration. The bad sounds just one step up from a shopping-mall Casio 'orchestra in a keyboard' system.
After the first stanza, she seems to think listeners will lose interest if she doesn't add some gimmick or flourish to every other word. It's at its worst nearing the end, where every second word seems to need a growl.
"Have they noticed my growl? I can do more. How's this?" It's like she noticed that brief note in Etta James's voice, and tries desperately to find it herself. More is less, and there's much less there.
And the ending of this arrangement is even worse that the decision to fade out Etta James. The low energy back-up music does a fade out, but Beyoncé's lyrics just stop as if she dropped her sheet music rather than with any sort of intentional wrap up. No finesse there.
But you don't listen to Beyoncé for her classic jazz attempts. Here, have a little Lemonade.
Lots of other lesser known modern singers have had a shot at singing "Trust in Me." It's not unusual to hear it at your local jazz club. I'm sure there will be another big-name attempt when someone comes up with a new take on the classic piece.
Browse YouTube for some other treatments. For example there is this longer rendition with expanded verses which you won't usually hear outside a live club setting. This is an east coast American club singer name Shirleta Settles on there – worth a listen, in spite of the cheezy lounge chatter she throws in for her audience.
The theme is thoroughly recognizable, so it'll often get an instrumental treatment by a jazz trio here and there. This version from Thelonious Monk and Clark Terry isn't too bad a listen.
Ultimately, it'll be hard to out-do the Washington and James treatments. But I'm always game to hear another take on it. Given that the song emerged in the 1930s, I'm not sure many modern songs will ever be able to claim such longevity.
I love the old jazz standard "Trust in Me" which has been a favourite of Jazz vocalists for the better part of a century. [Not to be confused with a more recent song of the same name that was used in the JungleBook Movie]. The jazz classic song dates all the way back to 1937, when penned by songwriters Ned Wever, Milton Ager, and Jean Schwartz but is probably best known as a 1960s hit for Etta James.
The first version I knew was the 1963 Dinah Washington one. It was on a compilation I acquired early in my burgeoning enthusiasm for Bebop jazz and grew on me as I came across other versions.
Washington's version is great for her trademark vocals. Though not as power-centric when compared against the energy of probably more-famous Etta James version, her more plaintive and understated style works well with the song's lyrical content. Where James evokes an almost hair-pulling frustration with her partner, Washington's is more of a late-night, heartfelt plea after a few drinks.
The recording is a bit strange, though. There's that little touch of misplaced reverb in the second stanza and orchestral accompaniment swells into a bit more of a 1940s feel than 1963 when it was recorded. But the brief trumpet piece before the bridge is pretty sweet, and worth the price admission.
Most notably, though, the ending of Washington's version is much more satisfying than is the Etta James arrangement, but more on that below the break. Have a listen:
The popular Etta James version of 1960 really nails it for raw emotion, and was suitably popular because of it. A modern listener can't help but think this is a little of the spirit that infected the latter-day, though already late, Amy Winehouse.
James starts the song soft, with almost a bit of a shy and raspy Billie Holiday feel. The recording is richer, warmer and more spacious.
Etta James gives us a plaintive lead-in but her tone quickly changes to punch the crap out of it. The band's horns don't really get involved until two thirds of the way through the song, but we're ready for them as James's pipes hit some notes worthy of a gritty trumpet solo.
The back-and-forth of her lows and highs takes us through a roller coaster of pleading, anger, lofty aspiration, and playfulness. It's that range that really sells it. Here's some playback from YouTube:
When you hear the power of her bridge, you think she has topped out, but she amps it up again in the last verse, going into the wrap up. But the arrangement ultimately disappoints in the wrap us, as all that power takes us nowhere. They opt for a rapid fade-out on her final pleas, rather than bring us to any sort of a conclusion, as Washington did so much more effectively.
I don't know the details of why there were two strong versions of the same song so close together – Washington's debuting three years after the James hit. Perhaps battling record companies? Washington's version was on Mercury vs. James released on the Argo label.
The song has some serious roots though. When we hear a remake of a song these days, we may think of it as a more modern thing – the recycling an old hit to try and cash in with a new generation. Of course that's a well oiled machination of the recording industry. And who can begrudge an artist inspired by a classic song, as long as they can do something new with it.
The original song came from the New York songwriting team Wever, Ager, Schwartz. They joined up from disparate backgrounds, originating from their respective New York, Chicago and Budapest origins.
The song hit for them in 1937 with a singer sporting that oh-so-marketable name Mildred Bailey. Have a listen to how it originally sounded:
The arrangement Bailey sings follows a more classic structure, beginning with a lead-in verse that gets dropped in later hit recordings. It evoked for me the feel of Hoagy Carmichael's infectious "Buttermilk Sky" (or the other way around, as his song is ten years later). The music is gentle, understated, and horn-centric, with an early jazz/ragtime feel. Both the trumpet and sax performances shine.
That opening verse provides some back story for her approach to her untrusting partner. It evokes more of a sense of a couple braving the wilds while homesteading in a frontier town. The edgier 1960s versions speak more of smokey jazz club infidelities and night life.
But the history of this song is broader than this in both directions. There was a strangely accented, mid-forties version by 'Hadda Brooks' (hear it on 78rpm record). While the vocal is strange, the music is very good. And it's the first recording I know of that drops that intro verse.
Two men recorded versions too - both Eddie Fisher and Louis Jordan recorded in a previous round in 1951. The Eddie Fisher version is really terrible. It features over-the-top choral background vocals more suited to a Walt Disney animation soundtrack. and a monotonously emotionless delivery by Fisher.
I haven't heard Louis Jordan's version - but his big-band really swings, so it would be interesting to see what he did with it.
Our modern celebrated Beyoncé did a version for a movie about a record industry. It didn't work out so well.
I'll let you decide for yourself, but she tries way too hard, rendering her attempt thin and forgettable.
She opens okay with a soft delivery, but quickly goes off the rails. She's not helped by the pathetic orchestration. The bad sounds just one step up from a shopping-mall Casio 'orchestra in a keyboard' system.
After the first stanza, she seems to think listeners will lose interest if she doesn't add some gimmick or flourish to every other word. It's at its worst nearing the end, where every second word seems to need a growl.
"Have they noticed my growl? I can do more. How's this?" It's like she noticed that brief note in Etta James's voice, and tries desperately to find it herself. More is less, and there's much less there.
And the ending of this arrangement is even worse that the decision to fade out Etta James. The low energy back-up music does a fade out, but Beyoncé's lyrics just stop as if she dropped her sheet music rather than with any sort of intentional wrap up. No finesse there.
But you don't listen to Beyoncé for her classic jazz attempts. Here, have a little Lemonade.
Lots of other lesser known modern singers have had a shot at singing "Trust in Me." It's not unusual to hear it at your local jazz club. I'm sure there will be another big-name attempt when someone comes up with a new take on the classic piece.
Browse YouTube for some other treatments. For example there is this longer rendition with expanded verses which you won't usually hear outside a live club setting. This is an east coast American club singer name Shirleta Settles on there – worth a listen, in spite of the cheezy lounge chatter she throws in for her audience.
The theme is thoroughly recognizable, so it'll often get an instrumental treatment by a jazz trio here and there. This version from Thelonious Monk and Clark Terry isn't too bad a listen.
Ultimately, it'll be hard to out-do the Washington and James treatments. But I'm always game to hear another take on it. Given that the song emerged in the 1930s, I'm not sure many modern songs will ever be able to claim such longevity.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)