BLP 1208

George Lewis And His New Orleans Stompers - Concert!

Released - March 1959

Recording and Session Information

Studio Radio performance, Bakersfield, CA, May 28, 1954
Avery "Kid" Howard, trumpet, vocals; Jim Robinson, trombone; George Lewis, clarinet; Alton Purnell, piano; Lawrence Marrero, banjo; Alcide "Slow Drag" Pavageau, bass; Joe Watkins, drums, vocals.

Gettysburg March
Bill Bailey
Burgundy Street Blues
Walking With The King

"Seven Arts Club", Bakersfield, CA, May 28, 1954
Avery "Kid" Howard, trumpet, vocals; Jim Robinson, trombone; George Lewis, clarinet; Alton Purnell, piano; Lawrence Marrero, banjo; Alcide "Slow Drag" Pavageau, bass; Joe Watkins, drums, vocals.

Over The Waves
Canal Street Blues
Red Wing
Just A Closer Walk With Thee (edited version)
Ice Cream
Mama Don't Allow It

Track Listing

Side One
Title	Author	Recording Date
Ice Cream	Jim Robinson	May 28 1954
Red Wing	Mills-Chattawy	May 28 1954
Mama Don't Allow It	Davenport	May 28 1954
Burgundy Street Blues	Lewis	May 28 1954
Bill Bailey		May 28 1954
Side Two
Over The Waves		May 28 1954
Just A Closer Walk With Thee		May 28 1954
Canal Street Blues	Oilver	May 28 1954
Walking With The King		May 28 1954
Gettysburg March		May 28 1954

Liner Notes

ONE of the first things heard on this record is the deceptively gentle voice of George Lewis diffidently stating that "After a year or so you may not hear this music any more." It was, to say the least, an understatement. This concert was recorded in 1954 and today, December 24, 1958, the George Lewis band is continuing its phenomenal career without apparent let-up or slow-down, the last of the great New Orleans jazz groups and the only traditional jazz group playing outside of New Orleans with a roster of musicians who, without exception, can claim to be pioneers in the music that's known as jazz.

A comparatively few years ago this jazz was called by one critic the "nothing-to-lose" school of music. The critical remark was not intended as a compliment. Yet today with a deeper understanding by those who listen to it with their hearts as well as their ears, the phrase becomes a definitive description; a brief three-word all-encompassing analysis of a music that defies analysis, yet is fast dying through over-analysis.

The early jazz musicians played for themselves, for each other and for their people. Jazz has been called a "happy" music, but this is true only in part. Jazz, as it was played by its originators, was a music of the heart, and whose heart — least of all the Negro's in the deep South — is always happy? Jazz was a form of self-expression, a means of articulating emotion by a people who spoke their greatest truths in music. A woman sang the blues when she wakened lonely in the morning; a man sang them in a jail cell; a child thumped a row of tin cans with a stick, or another twanged strips of inner tubing stretched over an empty crate, and each of them made music. The music on this record comes as close to the jazz that grew from these beginnings as any you will hear today.

George Lewis and his men played this concert without the knowledge that they were being recorded. There was no tension of recording studio, no direction, no worry over acceptance or non-acceptance by critics of the finished product. It was a happy gig, played in their favorite state, California, and the emotional atmosphere of the date is set from the first uninhibited rousing notes of Big Jim Robinson's tromhone in Ice Cream. The music speaks for itself. Jazz is a language, and on this record it is the language of musician speaking to musician and communicating with an audience without the knowledge that they were being overheard. Which is as it was in the beginning and always should be, but unfortunately seldom is.

Too many words have been written about jazz. And that includes these words. Too many books by too many people have been published year in and year out; books whose factual inaccuracies lie half-buried under the weight of academic dissertations about a subject which, in the beginning, was a music of the heart played by a naturally gifted people without a thought of critical acclaim, without the knowledge that the time would ever come when they would be 'discovered' by the critics, the musicologists and the intellectuals.

Critics have been almost unanimously kind to George Lewis. Critics who have damned with everything but faint praise other traditional bands have, even when pointing out flaws, showed unmistakably that the Lewis clarinet, the Lewis ensemble spirit, have a special quality of clarity and truth that defied their most captious analysis.

Collectors of George Lewis records will treasure this one in particular for it is the last time George's life-long friend, the great New Orleans - banjoist, Lawrence Marrero, was to be recorded with the band. Some of Marrero's finest recorded solos will be found on these sides.

It would be impossible to pick out the various high notes in this truly great album. One could mention the magnificent backing of the rest of the band in George's poignant Burgundy Street Blues; the driving piano and rhythm break in Over the Waves; George's grieving, moaning clarinet in Closer Walk with Thee, the vocals by Kid Howard and Joe Watkins, but to each listener the music will have its own message for those who have ears to hear it.

Lewis himself needs, perhaps, a word of explanation. Some day a perceptive and sensitive writer will do a biography of George Lewis and capture the gentleness and charm of this man who today, at 58, weighs 98 pounds and is, as this is written, packing his bags in New Orleans for a second tour of England and a first tour of Europe. If a champion is one who is knocked to the canvas repeatedly and comes back fighting each time at the count of nine George Lewis deserves the title of "champion". Throughout his life this frail man has been plagued by ill-health. Yet he has played, year in and year out, night long gigs after ten hours stevedoring on the New Orleans docks, for sometimes as little as 75 cents. There were many times when he needed the 75 cents, but there were times when he didn't. He played because he had to play. He played in New York for two months with a severe anemia, collapsing on the stand with pneumonia, in the middle of a number, towards the end of the engagement. He played in San Francisco tortured with angina. Years ago in New Orleans he played a four-hour parade three weeks after a serious abdominal operation, while his wife walked on the sidewalk beside the band in case he "fell out." The answer to the repeated question "Where does George Lewis get his tone" is found here, in the heart and spirit of a mar. who played for 44 years against overwhelming odds, in joy and in heartbreak, but almost always in ill health, who has never given up, or succumbed to trends or commercial opportunism.

The description of jazz as a "happy" music is most truly applicable to spirituals. Even in the ragtime, the marches and the stomps, a sensitive ear and heart can detect the release of emotions other than happiness. But in an up-tempo spiritual there is true happiness, for no matter how loudly the intellectual agnostic may decry it, here is a faith that cannot be denied or scorned. It is as real as red beans and rice. Without it a people would have perished. When the Lewis band plays Walking with the King it becomes more than a rousing foot-stomping rendition of a hymn. It is a statement of faith, of knowledge, of certainty that on a long, lonely road there is a royal companion. Because of that there is joy.

In 1957 George Lewis toured England, playing as guest artist with the Ken Colyer band. Altho concerts had been held down to four a week, it was an arduous experience. At the end, following two appearances in France, he was dog-tired. Wherever he went he had been acclaimed by wildly enthusiastic fans; several times the sturdy British 'bobbies' had been pressed into service to protect him. The jazz-minded British spread out the red carpet and handed him the keys to their hearts. No blame could attach to any musician who had completed that tour with an ego considerably larger than when he started.

At the end of the tour I asked him how he felt. "I'm tired," said George, "but I made it." Then he said something that had within it the essence of the music of George Lewis, and of his band, the secret of the Lewis tone, the revelation of the source of the strength that has kept him going, and the answer to the academicians and the critics of the "nothing-to-lose" school of music. George Lewis needed health and he needed strength; he needed money and security and all the things that most musicians of his calibre have acquired but that he has not attained because — despite the spirit of a lion — frailness of body has kept them away. Yet he was not concerned with these needs. He told me, at the end of that tour, "I guess one reason I made it is because every time I went on the stage in one of them big halls I prayed — like I always do everywhere — that God would stick with me and help me play my very best for these folks who'd been so good to me."

— DOROTHY TAIT

Cover Design by REID MILES
Rerecording by RUDY VAN GELDER

BLP 1206

 George Lewis And His New Orleans Stompers Volume 2

Released - 1955

Recording and Session Information

New Orleans, LA, May 15, 1943
Jim Robinson, trombone; George Lewis, clarinet, flute; Lawrence Marrero, banjo; Jim Little, tuba; Edgar Mosley, drums.

CD103 Don't Go 'Way Nobody (rehearsal)
CD104 Two Jim Blues

New Orleans, LA, May 16, 1943
Avery "Kid" Howard, trumpet, vocals; Jim Robinson, trombone; George Lewis, clarinet; Lawrence Marrero, banjo; Chester Zardis, bass; Edgar Mosley, drums.

CD105 Climax Rag
CD107 Just A Closer Walk With Thee
CD113 Dauphine St. Blues
CD114 Just A Little While To Stay Here
CD118 Milenberg Joys
CD119 Fidgety Feet
CD120 Fidgety Feet (alternate take)
CD123 Deep Bayou Blues

Track Listing

Side One
Title	Author	Recording Date
Climax Rag	James Scott	May 16 1943
Dauphine Street Blues		May 16 1943
Just A Closer Walk With Thee		May 16 1943
Two Jim Blues	Jim Robinson	May 15 1943
Fidgety Feet	Shields-La Rocca	May 16 1943
Side Two
Milenberg Joys	Jelly Roll Morton	May 16 1943
Deep Bayou Blues	Lewis-Marrero	May 16 1943
Fidgety Feet	Shields-La Rocca	May 16 1943
Don't Go 'Way Nobody	Bolden	May 15 1943
Just A Little While To Stay Here		May 16 1943

Liner Notes

This remarkable set of records testifies anew to the eternal vitality of New Orleans music. A living and dynamic art, ifs secret never reduced to a formula, Now Orleans style has eluded definition. The style of GEORGE LEWIS STOMPERS differs from that of any other band, yet in many respects this music is most typical of New Orleans style, and already has been hailed as the very incarnation of the spirit of the "Crescent City." Those records possess in unusual degree the energetic rhythmic drive, the vibrant expressiveness and warmth of tone, the ruggedness of ensemble, and the exuberant, unaffected grandeur so characteristic of New Orleans jazz. Prominent also are "off-the-beat" swing. lack of mechanical precision in attack and phrasing, and the ability to throw caution to the winds — musical qualities of men conditioned by years of nothing-to-lose living.

Although New Orleans dance bands have varied widely in size and instrumentation, the particular line-up used by the STOMPERS has been one of the most commonly favored. The use of the three most effective melodic instruments of the brass band long ago became standard. Rhythm sections have had few restrictions, but the absence of piano from marching bands and advertising wagons, and the fact that few halls owned one, discouraged its use in dance orchestras.

The unique New Orleans ensemble style requires musicians not only of exceptional individual improvising skill but of long and close association, capable of actually feeling music together. That The NEW ORLEANS STOMPERS possess rare ability in this most effective and intricate instrumental style has been amply demonstrated. These records should definitely establish GEORGE LEWIS as one of the greatest clarinetists of all time. Master of a fluent technique, he commands a biting attack and a forceful, driving style as well as a sensitive, highly emotional one, and on occasion can soar to triumphant heights. KID HOWARD, youngest of the group, proves he is well equipped to carry on the tradition of {he long line of celebrated New Orleans trumpeters. If the world's jazziest trombonist isn't JIM ROBINSON that person surely remains undiscovered. Jim does not specialize in subtlety or polished facility but "blows it out" with the finesse of a steam riveter. The 3-piece rhythm section is unusually powerful and has abundant drive to balance the zestful horns, who themselves constitute a rhythm section.

Although the phenomenon of New Orleans style depends more upon the treatment accorded a composition than the tune itself, there exists a distinctive New Orleans repertoire conducive to this unique improvisatory jazz style. The music of these records, consisting of marches, blues, rags. spirituals and stomps, is representative of that time-proven repertoire and indicative of the broad range of musical interests and the vital role played by music in New Orleans life.

Climax Rag not only is most thrilling music but an excellent demonstration of how the New Orleans improvisors were able to remold the St. Louis piano rags in their own orchestral style. When the original piano version came out in 1914, the St. Louis publishers called James Scott "The King of Rag Writers" and stated: "Now we need adjectives in fifteen degrees with a rising inflection. We need letters a foot high and a few exclamation-points the size of Cleopatra's Needle...Furious as a cat fight and will add materially to the gaiety of nations...Scott's name on a rag is like Rockefeller's on a check. It is legal tender...Climax Rag is Scott's latest, but no person will look for the date on a Scott rag. They will go echoing down the corridors of time when the season's hits have a long time been forgotten."

This orchestral adaptation closely follows the formal design and harmonic scheme of the Stark publication except that the trio is greatly extended as the band drives on and on with terrific heat and power. Melodically some of the piano passage work when applied to the various orchestral instruments has been skillfully reduced to more idiomatic and playable phrases. Effective orchestral performances of rags are extremely difficult, hence not every New Orleans band has been able to cut them. The astounding virtuosity with which The GEORGE LEWIS' STOMPERS perform this brilliant rag is unexcelled.

Deep Bayou Blues, an unusually somber and expressive improvisation, evolves entirely from a simple and appealing motive which is constantly elaborated on with increasing intensity. Several ensemble choruses of great breadth are followed by individual variations in which the theme is ably treated by Kid Howard's serious plunger style and Lewis' plaintive and ardent clarinet. In his second solo Lewis presents a unique and more remote development of the basic motive, as he uses blue 9th chords against simple tonic harmony.

A final solemn ensemble, led by Robinson's impassioned trombone, brings the Blues to a dissonant close.

To describe festivities at the historic pleasure resort Milneburg, with its beach, dance pavilion, and Lakeshore Hall one must go back to the memories of the oldest musicians. However, Jelly Roll Morton's masterpiece Milenberg Joys still tells the story musically. Judging by this performance, some gay, wild and noisy times were had at the old Lake Ponfchartrain resort. Ensemble throughout, this piece starts off immediately in exhilarating stomp style. Jim Robinson, who is really wound up, turns loose some of the most hilarious circus tromboning ever recorded. The lead, long a favorite vehicle for trumpet virtuosity, is performed excitingly by Kid Howard. After some of the most terrific breaks ever heard, the piece drives on to close in a frenzied orgy of joyful sound.

Two Jim Blues is surely one of the most extraordinary of all blues. Distinguished by its low-down instrumentation and its melancholic mood, it is one of the finest after-midnight, feet-shuffling slow blues on record. This meanest kind of blues was improvised on some ideas of Jim Robinson, and features his own magnificent trombone, together with the tuba playing of his nephew, Jim Little. Two Jim Blues also contains some of +he most imaginative clarinet playing of George Lewis whose fervent and eloquent blues style is unsurpassed.

The influence of spirituals on New Orleans jazz perhaps has been exaggerated. Certainly African dance and secular music wore brought to the New World as early as religious chants and probably remained less corrupted by European and Puritan influences. Often sacred and secular songs were similar expressions of identical emotions, and cases exist of both religious and "sinful" lyrics written to the same melody. Although real spirituals have plenty of swing in their own right, the actual swinging of spirituals for march or dance purposes is a comparatively recent development. Just a Closer Walk with Thee is one of New Orleans' most popular hymns, and quite understandably, for it is a beautiful melody which lends itself not only to fervent singing but to irresistible swinging. Throughout thirteen choruses the melody is preserved, yet infinite variety is achieved by skillful development and imaginative playing of this great band.

Just a Little While to Stay Here has been used both as a funeral hymn and as a homecoming march after burial. Bunk Johnson, the "father of New Orleans trumpeters," has described such an occasion: "The lodge would come out of the graveyard after the member were put away and they called roll—call in line — and then we'd march away from the cemetery by the drum only until we got about a block from the cemetery; then we'd go right on info ragtime. We would play DIDN'T HE RAMBLE or we'd take all these spiritual hymns and turn them info ragtime...We would have a second line there that was most equivalent to King Rex parade — Mardi Gras Carnival parade. Immense crowds would follow the funeral up to the cemetery just to get this ragtime music comin' back...There would be dancin' in the street, even the police horses would prance. Music done them all the good in the world."

Fidgety Feet, from the standard New Orleans repertoire, also attests to the notable influence of brass-band marches on jazz. The first part sparkles with clarinet fireworks, then leads to a lyrical trio section which is a prime example of a peculiarly New Orleans instrumental style. Trumpet, clarinet, and trombone all play concurrently different versions of the same melody, rather than countermelodies or accompanying figures. Each is saying exactly the same thing, but in a different manner, in his own characteristic instrumental language. The trumpet plays in decisive, full-toned, driving style; the trombone more brusquely accented. smeary, and with greater economy as befits a heavier horn, while the clarinet embellishes the tune more elaborately but nonetheless still sings the theme. To confirm the latter fact, compare Lewis' ensemble parts with his solos and note the identical melodic style. Thus New Orleans ensemble often consists of several instruments playing solos simultaneously, and the result, rather than a polyphony, is a heterophony more related to certain Oriental musics than to European. This system of allowing every musician the freedom and abandon of the soloist contributes no little to the enormous vitality of New Orleans jazz and utilizes maximum instrumental resources. Undoubtedly New Orleans is the most logical and inspired orchestral style ever created.

Dauphine Street Blues imaginatively develops two related traditional New Orleans themes. With uncommon fervor and seriousness, even for the blues, every man contributes his full share in the creation of this beautiful and moving composition. George Lewis' solo variation, evolving directly from his preceding ensemble part, is unusually florid. Here one sees virtuosity not for its own sake, but a facility released under stress of intense emotion, yet under perfect control. Throughout is the relentless beat of a rhythm section not to be denied as it drives on to a triumphant climax.

Of Buddy Bolden's fabulous dances the book JAZZMEN relates: "At night Tin Type Hall trembled with life and activity...High class people didn't go to such low-down affairs, and at about twelve o'clock when the ball was getting right, the more respectable of those who did attend went home. Then Bolden played a number called Don't Go 'Way Nobody, Let's Stay and Have a Good Time, and the dancing got rough. When the orchestra settled down to slow blues, the music was mean and dirty as Tin Type roared full blast." This performance is no staged attempt to re-create the old New Orleans spirit, for these men have never stopped playing jazz. This example of the New Orleans after-midnight style surely must be as rough, wild, and discordantly noisy as King Bolden's music ever got. The freest sort of free-for-all, it recalls the remark of Bolden's Willie Cornish, "When we goin' good, we'd cross three tunes once." The knocked-out performance of this "break" number abounds in typical New Orleans humor. Not even the celebrated King Oliver 2-cornet breaks pack the wallop of some of these ludicrous ensemble ejaculations, and unlike the Olivers these were all unrehearsed.

WILLIAM RUSSELL

Cover Design by REID K. MILES
Remastering by RUDY VAN GELDER

BLP 1205

George Lewis And His New Orleans Stompers Volume 1

Released - 1955

Recording and Session Information

Van Gelder Studio, Hackensack, NJ, April 8, 1955
Avery "Kid" Howard, trumpet, vocals; Jim Robinson, trombone; George Lewis, clarinet; Alton Purnell, piano, vocals; George Guesnon, banjo; Alcide "Slow Drag" Pavageau, bass; Joe Watkins, drums, vocals.

tk.8 Walking With The King
tk.9 Gettysburg March
tk.12 Savoy Blues
tk.16 My Bucket's Got A Hole In It

Van Gelder Studio, Hackensack, NJ, April 11, 1955
Avery "Kid" Howard, trumpet, vocals; Jim Robinson, trombone; George Lewis, clarinet; Alton Purnell, piano, vocals; George Guesnon, banjo; Alcide "Slow Drag" Pavageau, bass; Joe Watkins, drums, vocals.

tk.20 Mahogany Hall Stomp
tk.26 Lord, Lord You Sure Been Good To Me
tk.29 High Society
tk.30 See See Rider Blues
tk.31 Heebie Jeebies
tk.33 When You Wore A Tulip

Track Listing

Side One
Title	Author	Recording Date
Mahogany Hall Stomp	S. Williams	April 11 1955
See See Rider Blues	Ma Rainey	April 11 1955
When You Wore A Tulip	Mahoney-Wenrich	April 11 1955
Bucket Got A Hole In It	C. Williams	April 8 1955
Walking With The King	Traditional	April 8 1955
Side Two
High Society	Piron-Williams	April 11 1955
Savoy Blues	Kid Ory	April 8 1955
Gettysburg March	Traditional	April 8 1955
Heebie Jeebies	Atkins	April 11 1955
Lord, Lord You Sure Been Good	Kid Howard	April 11 1955

Liner Notes

THERE'S A STORY to this band, and it's right here — in the music they play. It's the New Orleans story, if you like, but it's really even more than that. In a sense, it's a story that re-writes the jazz legend, and makes you wonder what, after all, really makes this music go.

Picture a studio out in Hackensack, New Jersey. Picture seven men from New Orleans walking into that studio — most of them in their forties, two of them in their middle to late sixties. Some of them know the rough planking and the hot sun of the New Orleans docks. All of them have followed the ups and downs of a jazzman's life, from the early 1900% or before. Some of their horns are in beat-up cases—the clarinetist has an old Albert, a type that was supposed to have gone out of style years ago because you couldn't get around it fast enough.

And you watch them set up — the thin clarinetist, George Lewis, with a soulful face that breaks into light when he smiles "Big Jim" Robinson, the stevedore, whose large hands make a trombone look like a toy. There's "Slow Drag" Pravageau on bass. He's sixty-seven, but he keeps it a secret...even from his bass. Near him stands "Kid" Howard on trumpet, who's not a kid any more, and who followed the riverboats up to Chicago in the old days to see how they were doing on the South Side. You watch George Guesnon tune up his banjo. It's got a funky sound, but to a New Orleans ear, it's just right. Beside him sits Alton Purnell, hitting a few chords on the Steinway. He grins. It's not exactly what a Professor's piano should look like, but if you hit it right, you can forget about the twelve coats of varnish and shellac. And there, fixing the foot pedal on the bass drum, is Joe Watkins. The bands he's played with make a long list, and he knows the feeling of New Orleans pavements gliding under his foot as he strides along, the straps of his parade drum biting into his shoulders.

It's a recording studio in Hackensack, New Jersey, and the year is 1955. The past and the present are about to rub shoulders, and you wonder what it's going to sound like. And then Lewis kicks off the beat for Mahogany Hall Stomp —and the walls move back two feet.

And as you listen, you realize something you've half known, half hoped for, but never really dared believe. New Orleans Jazz isn't dead. It's as alive and kicking today as it was on those warm nights, so long ago, when the scent of magnolias blended with the sound of whacky horns down Bourbon Street way.

If New Orleans Jazz died that night in 1917 when they closed Lulu White's, these men never heard about it. If it was supposed to have changed in Chicago in the mid '20s, and then gone through a big band phase in New York in the '30s, they didn't hear about that either. For as you listen, here is the old sound on high fidelity. It takes a minute to get used to it — to really believe it — but it won't throw you. And you know what the old records were trying to sound like — and couldn't quite.

If you've any idea that these New Orleans musicians are digging up a museum piece, just listen to any one of the cuts on this marvelous LP. For this is the only way these men know how to play — they're playing jazz, and this is what it sounds like, and if by some miracle Oliver, or Jelly, or Keppard walked in through the door, they'd think they were home again. For this is their music too—with the flags up and waving. It's certain, and sure, and it believes in itself.

Listen to the Lewis clarinet on See See Rider, with a tone a yard wide, and all velvet. Listen to Robinson on Mahogany Hall Stomp, catch the wonderful vocal of Alton Purnell on Heebie Jeebies, the incredible beat of "Slow Drag" Pavageau's bass on Lord Lord, You Sure Been Good To Me, the truly great clarinet-trombone ensemble which Lewis and Robinson cook up on Walking With The King. And if you want, you can practically slide into line behind Joe Watkins drums, as you round the corner playing Gettysburg. Marches, blues, hymns, all played as fresh as the day the music was born. "Kid" Howard's horn is the kind that made the shutters slide open on Basin Street, and George Guesnon's banjo, with its tremendous rock, is right up there at the front of the rhythm, pushing the horns, driving them, without ever stepping on them.

Notice the tunes that they play, some of which haven't had a New Orleans going over since the last edition of the "Blue Book." And above all, listen to the ensembles—sweet, driving, hot, superbly recorded, building to peaks they can't top — and then topping them on the next Chorus. You'll hear the rhythm laying down an incredible driving beat, you'll hear Robinson holding up the bottom of the band with a trombone that opens the gates, and then shakes them, and you'll hear "Kid" Howard sliding through with a driving horn that sets down a melody line and seduces it at the same time. And all through, there's Lewis, changing the whole tone of ensembles with his clusters of clean, high, nervous notes, and then coming downstairs with a tone so broad and sweet and steaming hot you'll begin to wonder how a clarinet ever sounded like that.

The books talk about a golden age of jazz, and the legend, and the giants in the land. These records talk about the same thing, but they let you in on a secret. When New Orleans Jazz "died," somebody forgot to lock the gate. Here is the music again — as incredibly alive as the day it was born. You've got it in your hands right now.

—ROBERT S. GREENE

Cover Design by REID K. MILES
Ship Engraving from BETTMAN ARCHIVES
Photo by FRANCIS WOLFF
Recording by RUDY VAN GELDER

1998 CD Issue Liner Notes

The role of independent record labels in documenting and preserving American music — and especially jazz — has not always achieved the recognition it deserves. Independents such as Gennett, Paramount, Okeh and Nordskog did much to document the early New Orleans pioneers who worked their way north and west at the dawn OF the Jazz Age. But the bust of the recording industry in the latter 1 920s cleared them all from the field, if the majors had not already swallowed them up by then. Following recovery in the mid-1 930s, a new generation of independent labels emerged: United Hot Clubs of America, Hot Record Society, and Commodore began with reissue campaigns that served as a threshold for more adventurous projects infused with a sense of "the righteous cause," the belief that jazz was an art form worthy of documentation and preservation. Perhaps the most adventurous of the new labels, and certainly the one that best exemplified the trend toward stylistic pluralism, was Blue Note Records, founded in January 1939 by a German expatriate, Alfred Lion. A statement of purpose accompanied Blue Note's first brochure in May 1939: "Blue Note Records are designed simply to serve the uncompromising expressions of hot jazz or swing, in general. Any particular style of playing which represents an authentic way of musical feeling is genuine expression. By virtue of its significance in place, time and circumstance, it possesses its own tradition, artistic standards and audience that keeps it alive. Hot jazz, therefore, is expression and communication, a musical and social manifestation, and Blue Note records are concerned with identifying its impulse, not its sensational and commercial adornments." This manifesto, dedicated as it was to preserving the integrity of Blue Note artists, stands in stark contrast to the usual tales of manipulation by unscrupulous A & R men within the record industry, and yet it also elucidates how viable such a strategy could be, for Blue Note successfully kept pace with the times, moving from boogie woogie, traditional jazz, and swing to bebop, hard bop, soul, and beyond. In retrospect, the Blue Note catalog amounts to nothing less than one of the nation's most significant musical treasures, and the reissue programs directed by Michael Cuscuna since 1975 have ensured accessibility to these priceless recordings.

The same impulse which generated renewed vigor among independent record labels in the late 1930s also resuscitated the careers of several New Orleans jazz musicians whose reputations had remained strictly local until the historical writing of William Russell and Charles Edward Smith in Jazzmen (1939) brought them to national attention. During the 190s trumpeter Bunk Johnson and trombonist Kid Ory held forth as the twin pillars of a New Orleans revival which vied with bebop and modern jazz for the hearts and ears of young jazz enthusiasts. Despite the impact of this jazz schism (which preoccupied critics primarily), or perhaps because of it, musicians well into middle age were able to cultivate a dedicated youthful following, satisfying a hunger for authenticity and the virtues of a seemingly less complex time before world wars and the Depression. The Bunk Johnson saga ended in anti-climax following marginally successful seasons at the Stuyvesant Casino in New York City in 1945-46, but the revival found a more reliable champion in the band's clarinetist, George Lewis, who rose like a phoenix from the ashes after the trumpeter's death in 1949. Lewis had worked with all the best leaders in New Orleans in the 920s, including Buddy Petit, Ernest "Kid Punch" Miller, Chris Kelly and Henry "Red" Allen, and during the Depression he had traveled regionally with Evan Thomas before returning home to face the hard scrabble gigs along Decatur Street on the river front. During World War II, his association with Bunk on recordings for Jazz Man and American Music in 1942 and 1944-46 afforded a degree of notoriety. However, as Paige Van Horst observed in his notes to The Complete Blue Note Recordings of George Lewis: "George Lewis was not a prime candidate to become a jazz idol. His success seems in many ways accidental. He was a small, frail, shy, soft-spoken man and probably would have finished his days playing tavern lobs in New Orleans and working as a stevedore had there not been a back-to-the-basics movement in jazz during the late 1930s." This, of course, made him perfect for the Blue Note roster.

The sixteen cuts collected on this CD were recorded at Rudy Van Gelder's Englewood Cliffs, New Jersey studio on April 8 and April 11, 1955 and were produced by Alfred Lion. George Lewis's first connection with Alfred Lion and Blue Note had been a session recorded by Bill Russell in 19Å3—issued on the specially-created Climax label because it was a non-union recording — which had sold well and helped to establish name recognition for the clarinetist in his own right. The Van Gelder sessions resulted from a fortuitous engagement for George Lewis and his New Orleans Stompers at Childs' Paramount Restaurant in New York City in the midst of a national tour. It was Lewis's first return to Manhattan since his Bunk Johnson days nearly a decade earlier. The repertoire represents a cross-section of traditional New Orleans standards—popular tunes, marches, blues, hymns and stomps—all relying on the classic collective approach that makes New Orleans music so appealing. The interplay between soloist and ensemble is not always flawless, and New Orleans bands often sound rough to the uninitiated, but the intention of the musicians is to evoke surprise, and thus excitement, and to make the listener feel the music and respond to it. We can rest assured that George Lewis will not be remembered for his technique or for the number of records sold, but he had a "voice" that was unique in its emotional power and lyrical intensify, and once heard, it could never be forgotten.

—Bruce Boyd Raeburn
Curator, Hogan Jazz Archive, Tulane University

BLP 7028

George Lewis And His New Orleans Stompers - Volume 4

Released - 1954

Recording and Session Information

Van Gelder Studio, Hackensack, NJ, April 8, 1955
Avery "Kid" Howard, trumpet, vocals; Jim Robinson, trombone; George Lewis, clarinet; Alton Purnell, piano, vocals; George Guesnon, banjo; Alcide "Slow Drag" Pavageau, bass; Joe Watkins, drums, vocals.

tk.12 Savoy Blues
tk.14 Nobody Knows The Way I Feel This Morning

Van Gelder Studio, Hackensack, NJ, April 11, 1955
Avery "Kid" Howard, trumpet, vocals; Jim Robinson, trombone; George Lewis, clarinet; Alton Purnell, piano, vocals; George Guesnon, banjo; Alcide "Slow Drag" Pavageau, bass; Joe Watkins, drums, vocals.

tk.19 I Can't Escape From You
tk.26 Lord, Lord You Sure Been Good To Me
tk.29 High Society
tk.31 Heebie Jeebies

Track Listing

Side One
Title	Author	Recording Date
High Society	Williams-Piron	April 11 1955
Heebie Jeebies	Atkins-Jones	April 11 1955
Savoy Blues	Ory	April 8 1955
Side Two
Lord, Lord You Sure Been Good To Me	Traditional	April 11 1955
Nobody Knows The Way I Feel This Morning	Traditional	April 8 1955
I Can't Escape From You	Robin-Whiting	April 11 1955

Liner Notes

AVERY "KID" HOWARD, trumpet; JIM ROBINSON, trombone; GEORGE LEWIS, clarinet; ALTON PURNELL, piano; GEORGE GUESNON, banjo; ALCIDE "SLOW DRAG" PAVAGEAU, bass; JOE WATKINS, drums.

THERE'S A STORY to this band, and it's right here — in the music they play. It's the New Orleans story, if you like, but it's really even more than that. In a sense, it's a story that re-writes the jazz legend, and makes you wonder what, after all, really makes this music go.

Picture a studio out in Hackensack, New Jersey. Picture seven men from New Orleans walking into that studio — most of them in their forties, two of them in their middle to late sixties. Some of them know the rough planking and the hot sun of the New Orleans docks. All of them have followed the ups and downs of a jazzman's life, from the early 1900's or before. Some of their horns are in beat-up cases — the clarinetist has an old Albert, a type that was supposed to have gone out of style years ago because you couldn't get around it fast enough.

And you watch them set up—the thin clarinetist, George Lewis, with a soulful face that breaks into light when he smiles — "Big Jim" Robinson, the stevedore, whose large hands make a trombone look like a toy. There's "Slow Drag" Pavageau on bass. He's sixty-seven, but he keeps it a secret.... even from his bass. Near him stands "Kid" Howard on trumpet, who's not a kid any more, and who followed the riverboats up to Chicago in the old days to see how they were doing on the South Side. You watch George Guesnon tune up his banjo. It's got a funky sound, but to a New Orleans ear, it's just right. Beside him' sits Alton Purnell, hitting a few chords on the Steinway. He grins. It's not exactly what a Professor's piano should look like, but if you hit it right, you can forget about the twelve coats of varnish and shellac. And there, fixing the foot pedal on the bass drum, is Joe Watkins. The bands he's played with make a long list, and he knows the feeling of New Orleans pavements gliding under his foot as he strides along, the straps of his parade drum biting into his shoulders.

It's a recording studio in Hackensack, New Jersey, and the year is 1955. The past and the present are about to rub shoulders, and you wonder what it's going to sound like. And then Lewis kicks off the beat for Mahogany Hall Stomp —and the walls move back two feet.

And as you listen, you realize something you've half known, half hoped for, but never really dared believe. New Orleans Jazz isn't dead. It's as alive and kicking today as it was on those warm nights, so long ago, when the scent of magnolias blended with the sound of whacky horns down Bourbon Street way.

If New Orleans Jazz died that night in 1917 when they closed Lulu White's, these men never heard about it. If it was supposed to have changed in Chicago in the mid '20s, and then gone through a big band phase in New York in the '30s, they didn't hear about that either. For as you listen, here is the old sound on high fidelity. It takes a minute to get used to it—to really believe it—but it won't throw you. And you know what the old records were trying to sound like — and couldn't quite.

If you've any idea that these New Orleans musicians are digging up a museum piece, just listen to any one of the cuts on these two marvelous LPs. For this is the only way these men know how to play — they're playing jazz, and this is what it sounds like, and if by some miracle Oliver, or Jelly, or Keppard walked in through the door, they'd think they were home again. For this is their music too — with the flags up and waving. It's certain, and sure, and it believes in itself.

Listen to the Lewis clarinet on See See Rider, with a tone a yard wide, and all velvet. Listen to Robinson on Mahogany Hall Stomp, and catch the wonderful vocal of Alton Purnell on Heebie Jeebies. There's so much here — even the little things, like the slow, haunting four-bar piano intro to I Can't Escape From You, the incredible beat of "Slow Drag" Pavageau's bass on Lord Lord, You Sure Been Good To Me, the truly great clarinet-trombone ensemble which Lewis and Robinson cook up on Walking With The King. And if you want, you can practically slide into line behind Joe Watkins drums, as you round the corner playing Gettysburg. Marches, blues, hymns, all played as fresh as the day the music was born. "Kid" Howard's horn is the kind that made the shutters slide open on Basin Street, and George Guesnon's banjo, with its tremendous rock, is right up there at the front of the rhythm, pushing the horns, driving them, without ever stepping on them.

Notice the tunes that they play, some of which haven't had a New Orleans going over since the last edition of the "Blue Book." And above all, listen to the ensembles—sweet, driving, hot, superbly recorded, building to peaks they can't top—and then topping them on the next chorus. You'll hear the rhythm laying down an incredible driving beat, you'll hear Robinson holding up the bottom of the band with a trombone that opens the gates, and then shakes them, and you'll hear "Kid" Howard sliding through with a driving horn that sets down a melody line and seduces it at the same time. And all through, there's Lewis, changing the whole tone of ensembles with his clusters of clean, high, nervous notes, and then coming downstairs with a tone so broad and sweet and steaming hot you'll begin to wonder how a clarinet ever sounded like that.

The books talk about a golden age of jazz, and the legend, and the giants in the land. These records talk about the same thing, but they let you in on a secret. When New Orleans Jazz "died," somebody forgot to lock the gate. Here is the music again — as incredibly alive as the day it was born. You've got it in your hands right now.

— ROBERT S. GREENE

Cover Design by GIL MELLE
Photo by FRANCIS WOLFF