SloaneView

I heard voices in the night ...

2012-01-23T15:06:00.000-05:00

I enjoy a somewhat sporadic, highly pleasurable e-mail correspondence with a resident of up-state New York who has devoted a considerable portion of his life to the perpetuation of fact and the dispelling of myth regarding the life and career of Frank Sinatra. In recent exchanges, we have reminisced about radio personalities whose tastes and opinions informed us at an early age. (Specifically, these were people called "disc jockeys", not social and political commentators such as Gabriel Heatter, Lowell Thomas or H.V. Kaltenborn.)** The men who were spinning 78's in often cramped quarters with one or possibly two turntables at their disposal introduced us to and assisted in the cultivation of a life-long devotion to certain singers and musicians.

My own list of these highly influential male voices (no lady djs then) is comprised of those floating into my room from a cherished Bendix radio that delivered an AM signal exclusively. You can see it in this photograph.

I grew up in Rhode Island, and my little band box was a major source of entertainment and information from Boston AM stations WBZ or WHDH, both powerful frequencies blanketing all of southern New England. Powerful too were the well-modulated, elegant enunciations: deep, masculine, authoritative, confident and articulate as they not only introduced recordings but often took the time to explain why a particular artist's work was worthy of my attention.

This was educational radio in the truest sense. I'd never have discovered jazz if it hadn't been for the radio and the men who were my trusted guides. In Rhode Island, a gentle giant of Cape Verdean descent named Jim Mendes' was my original mentor. He was one of the most respected djs in the state during the 1950's and 1960's, sharing his knowledge and appreciation of jazz on WICE-AM. Jim's shows were heavily populated with stellar performances featuring Miles Davis, Dizzy Gillespie, Carmen McRae, Count Basie, or Oscar Peterson and hundreds of other legendary figures who were at the time recording and appearing with regularity in clubs and concert halls. The popularity of jazz was pervasive and exciting, simultaneously suggesting just a hint of wickedness.  This was an environment I hoped and dreamed of inhabiting, and it existed just two hundred miles down the road in New York City. I was only fourteen years old but I knew I'd someday live and work there.

If I couldn't actually transport myself to jazz clubs in Manhattan, I could at least pretend to be in Birdland to hear my jazz heroes perform. The desire to breathe the same air as Lester Young or Billie Holiday was made all the more intense when I listened to a dj named Sid Torrin who used the stage name Symphony Sid and also hosted a live hook-up from that most famous of jazz venues.  He could be boring and over-bearing and much too hip for his own good, but he conducted interviews with my idols between sets, and those conversations enthralled and fueled my pursuit of jazz scholarship.

Some AM frequencies suspended broadcasting at 6 PM, after which one could enjoy static-free reception from previously inaccessible locations. Tuning in to WNEW in New York became a late-night addiction.  A man named Al Jazzbeaux Collins* hosted his show from a magical Purple Grotto from which he and his pet owl Harrison broadcast. I was his most ardent fan, and made note of the numerous names of musicians and singers I found compelling so that I could save allowance money to buy their records. I most vividly remember the first time I heard a magnficient jazz pianist whose technique and improvisational skills greatly impressed me, and how astonished I was to learn the strength and dexterity I'd just enjoyed were created by A WOMAN! Her name was Marian McPartland.  Collins frequently played the equally versatile and inventive Barbara Carroll. My spirits were lifted and my brain cells were nourished with new jazz information received on a nightly basis.

It is true that in the 1940's, the sources of entertainment were decidedly limited compared to today's dizzying choices. I could (a) go to movies, (b) read books or newspapers, (c) watch a television screen filled with black and white images, (d) talk to my boyfriend for endless hours on the phone, or (e) listen to the radio. I did all that plus my homework. But disc jockeys sustained my insatiable curiosity about and thirst for more and more jazz. DJs were genuine gods to me.

Night club owners and concert producers then as now depended on djs to help promote the imminent appearance of an artist in the area, highlighting the recordings throughout the program, and occasionally conducting a live studio interview. Those chats humanized the artists for me and I dreamed of the day when I might converse with them myself. Eventually my dream came true, of course. The notion that I'd actually work with any of them was beyond my wildest fantasies.

Today's technology provides devices I could never have imagined when I was growing up, but like many of my generation, I long for the slower pace of those times. Distractions were prevalent, but my focus was directed toward acquiring good grades in school, fun and games and boyfriends a close second. The complex richness of jazz inspired a curiosity about the Arts in general: Grand Opera, symphonic composers and the orchestras that play classical music; fine art, architecture, reading a good book or cooking a great meal.

The discovery of jazz and subsequent relevant interests were most assuredly generous bequests for which I shall ever be grateful. Here's to those great voices in the night and all the jazz djs who labor in their wake everywhere around the world.

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*I sent Mr. Collins a florid fan letter in my flawless Palmer Method hand, written in purple ink and on the diagonal to demonstrate my sophistication and artistic temperament. Listening a few nights later, imagine how thrilled I was to hear him reading the contents of my note for all the world to hear! I fed on that one for weeks.

** Yes, Virginia, these were real people who helped maintain morale, informed and commented on political and social issues pertinent in the 1940's and specifically during WWII. Americans relied on their analyses, recognized and welcomed their voices and opinions into their homes via radio.

Bob Brookmeyer R.I.P.

2011-12-19T06:59:00.000-05:00

From the left: Bob, Jimmy Rowles, Myself and Tommy Flanagan

A Highly Personal Recollection

With the sad news of the death of Bob Brookmeyer, vivid memories of our occasionally turbulent relationship flooded my thoughts. We met in 1961 when he and several other prominent jazz musicians were members of the band playing Bill Finegan arrangements for my first album on the Columbia Records label.

Although Bob did eventually achieve sobriety, he was then drinking heavily, and he could be short-tempered and petulant when just moments before he'd been wise and funny and keenly observant. He often appeared at The Half Note, a club on the lower West Side of Manhattan with his co-leader Clark Terry. Some of us fondly called them "Mumbles and Grumbles".

Our friendship grew and eventually Bob, a passionate football fan at the time, became my personal tutor, patiently explaining some of the more complex and intricate components and strategies. Years later he told me how he tested my "girl-friend worthiness" by asking that I accompany him to Sheep Meadow in Central Park one very early Sunday morning. A few musicians gathered there for spirited collisions called touch football. I agreed to act as cheerleader, fetcher of hot cocoa and BandAid supplier. The predictable muscle aches/pains/scrapes ensued, leading to post-game therapy: submersion in a sudsy hot bath. He liked to soak while watching the Giants on a black-and-white portable tv in addition to the sound of a Jets' radio broadcast, cigarettes and beverage of choice within easy reach.

On Monday nights, we were at The Village Vanguard where Bob was a member of the ferociously exciting Thad Jones-Mel Lewis Orchestra. The club was always packed out, and I remember standing the entire evening with everyone else who couldn't find a chair. Being a band member's "ole lady" did not bestow seating privilege.

Bob's alcohol dependence continued, his anger and mood swings increased, and he spent most days drinking and immobile on the sofa, refusing nourishment. Thad began to telephone frequently, hoping to persuade him to write something new for the band. Bob remained unresponsive. In frustration, Thad began to call me at my secretarial job, insisting I do everything in my power to inspire him. Frankly, I was at a loss.

One day, quite by chance, I decided to play a favorite Mildred Bailey recording, telling Bob I especially liked her sweet version of "Willow Tree" written by Andy Razaf and Fats Waller. When the track finished, he tersely asked to hear it again. He wanted to hear it a third time, after which he rose and shuffled to the piano. A few days later, he had completed the score. You can hear "Willow Tree" on Thad Jones-Mel Lewis Jazz Orchestra "Live at The Village Vanguard", 1967 on Solid State. Though not as vivid or intensely complex as "ABC Blues", for obvious reasons, "Willow Tree" will forever be dear to my heart. (I have it on unimpeachable authority that the arrangement remains in the band book of The Vanguard Jazz Orchestra, appearing Monday nights at the historic venue.)

The last time I saw B, he and his beautiful wife Jan stopped by on their way to Fenway Park for a Red Sox game. This was to be his first visit to the fabled venue, and he was child-like and very nearly giddy. It was wonderful to see him so grounded and happy at last, and I am so proud to have known him.

*Bob's lovely arrangement of "Willow Tree" is a included on Thad Jones-Mel Lewis Orchestra "Live at The Village Vanguard", 1967 on Solid State.

Two of the most highly-informed jazz web sites which now focus on Bob are Marc Meyer's JazzWax and Doug Ramsey's Rifftides You should visit them immediately.

Bob is here playing "Bernie's Tune" with Gerry Mulligan, Art Blakey and Ray Brown at The Aurex Jazz Festival, Japan, 1981.

We're Back ...

2011-11-21T20:25:00.000-05:00

The SloaneView staff recently expressed both oral and written dissatisfaction concerning the involuntary suspension of duties which commenced at the end of August, 2011. The EIC (that would yours truly) became trapped in a Medical Mystery Tour which resulted in a stay of four days in hospital. Doctors and nurses and pills (Oh My) combined to set me right (or righter than I was before entering the place), so it's time to get back to work. With a crack of the whip, we resume publication.

Only to find a blank space where news and information should be gushing forth. Main focus of late has been slow but genuine progress on my auto-biography, only to be pleasantly distracted this week with preparations for Thanksgiving. Various delicious recipes are being examined although it's pretty standard fare in this New England home. I will make my own cranberry relish, the aroma of roast turkey will permeate the premises, brussels sprouts, baked sweet potatoes with apricots and bourbon, both pumpkin and an apple custard pie* for dessert. Lunch is at 3. Please don't be late!

* Holiday Apple Custard Pie

One unbaked pie shell
4 medium apples, peeled, cored and cut into
thin wedges (enough for two layers)
1 cup of sugar
1 teaspoon cinnamon
1/2 teaspoon salt
1 cup heavy cream
2 eggs
1 teaspoon vanilla
2 tablespoons butter, cut into small dice

1. Set oven rack in the middle position.
Preheat to 450 F

2. Arrange approximately half the apple slices on bottom of pie crust in an over-lapping pattern. Sift together sugar, cinammon and salt. Sprinkle half of cin., sugar and salt over apples.

3. Pour heavy cream into 2-cup glass measuring cup. Add eggs and vanilla and beat with a fork or small whisk to combine. Pour half egg mixture over top of pie. Layer remaining apples in pie and sprinkle with remaining cin., sugar, salt. Pour remaining cream over top of pie. Dot with butter.

4. Bake for 10 minutes, reduce temp. to 350 and bake for 45 minutes more, or until the filling bubbles rapidly and edges of crust are nicely browned. I use a pie crust shield to prevent burning.

Cool pie on rack for at least 2 hours
Best served the day it is baked ...
Store covered with paper towels and plastic wrap in refrigerator

This recipe is from The Brass Sisters
http://www.thebrasssisters.com/pages/2008/09/holiday-apple-custard-pie/

An Eerie (True) Encounter

2011-08-31T11:00:00.000-04:00

Editor's Note: The following item should have been published on Monday, August 29th, but the presence of Hurricane Irene over the weekend provided a distraction not to be ignored.

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In the August 22nd issue of SloaneView, I listed Casablanca as my favorite film, and indeed it is. I did NOT mention that I am currently reading a fascinating account of the making of the film. It is called "Round Up The Usual Suspects" , available at Amazon, recommended without reservation. Written by Aljean Harmetz, it is thoroughly researched and utterly mesmerizing. Now, here's my own true Casablanca story (well, really my Ingrid Bergman story):

On August 28, 1982, I was in a Tokyo studio, recording what was to become an album titled "As Time Goes By", the song featured on the cd. It's available today at Amazon and other online venues. The musicians were a marvelous trio: Tim Horner, one of my favorite drummers, the gifted Japanese bass player Yukinori Narishige*, and the marvelous, legendary American jazz pianist Don Abney who was living in Japan at the time. Abney's reputation as accompanist to some of the leading jazz singers of the day was impressive, and so I looked forward to collaborating with him. The studio date was set for August 28th.

Feeling rested and relaxed after an afternoon nap, a shower and comfortable satisfaction about the song list, I began work on my make-up. While standing in front of the bathroom vanity, I felt a sudden jolt of heat fill the small space. I really thought the infra-red heating fixture in the ceiling had somehow surged itself into the "on" position since I certainly hadn't engaged the switch myself.

As the warmth lingered, the strong presence of Ingrid Bergman was undeniable. My first reaction was astonished delight, followed by the more sensible assumption that since I was to record "As Time Goes By" in a few hours' time, my vivid imagination had stimulated an image of the beautiful Ilsa Lund.

The few moments of intensity began to dissipate, then gently vanished altogether. I felt elation, gratitude and humility, in that order. Finally, it was time to meet my colleagues in the lobby of the hotel to make the journey to the studio.

When I returned to the hotel after recording the entire album in one session, and following a jolly drinks/dinner party, I watched as CNN flashed the news that Ingrid Bergman had died that day in London. There is an eight-hour time difference between London and Tokyo, so the fact that I was recording on the 28th in Tokyo makes the date August 29 in London. I was startled and sad but absolutely convinced she had graciously paused on her journey just long enough to wish me well. To this day, I treasure the memory of all that.

Official Ingrid Bergman Web Site

Note this interesting fact: according to her official web site, she was born on August 29, 1915, and died on August 29, 1982 in London.

* At our first meeting, I had some difficulty pronouncing Mr. Narishige's name, but henceforward he was "Cookie", a nick-name he embraced with kind affection. We became very good friends.

Read any good books lately?

2011-08-22T10:02:00.000-04:00

The summer languorously ambles toward its demise. I'm not a big fan of hot weather so I am vigorously preparing for its departure by cleaning the den. This is strenuous labor which requires heavy lifting, not to mention the willingness to part with years of accumulated junk. Our exclamations are pretty standard stuff by now: "Why did we ever keep THIS?", predictably followed by "Oh look: here's a picture of Aunt Mabel dated 1942, Narragansett Pier".

In 1942, I was five years old, but even at that tender age, I was a big fan of the movies. "Bambi" was released that year and though the seat upon which my baby bum sat has long since vanished, it once contained DNA evidence of my over-wrought reaction as I wept uncontrollably. My father whispered "It's only a movie", but I was beyond consolation.

The Hollywood of 1942 produced some of my all-time favorite films, including (but not in any particular order): "Pride Of The Yankees", "Mrs. Miniver", "Madame Curie", "Random Harvest" (wasn't Greer Garson a busy lady!), "King's Row", "Holiday Inn", "The Man Who Came To Dinner" and of course the best of all, "Casablanca".

The fact that I was so young and couldn't possibly have understood complex story lines made no difference. Explicit sex and/or violence were unknown factors in these films. (For example, in today's cinema would we ever see Humphrey Bogart remaining immaculate in his white tux jacket even after Ilsa has just confessed: "If you knew how much I loved you ... how much I still love you", followed by that passionate kiss? Fade ... Next, he's turning from the window, holding a cigarette in his hand and without the slightest crease in his formal attire, delivers the memorable line: "And then?" as she explains why she was a no-show at the train station.)

The Community Theater in our town and others around the country provided great incentives to entice my mother and other devoted movie fans to fork over the 50-cent admission: A complete set of china, one dish at a time, service for six. Or a book. Not just any book either: Ibsen, Conan Doyle, Shakespeare, Whitman, the Brontes. I read them all eventually. As if being handed a free book wasn't enough, I forced my mother to take me to the small corner variety store where the latest Nancy Drew Mysteries were on sale. They cost more than the movie but my mother nurtured my love of reading and always bought the treasured tome for me.

I realize "Read any good books lately?" is an old-fashioned line, and shares its somewhat dated message with "Mind your own business", "How dare you?" and "Do you know the way to San Jose?" All the same, if you share my enthusiasm for black and white films of the 1930's and 1940's, send your list along. At the very least, I will have a better idea of the average age of my readers. Just click "Comments" below.
[Disclaimer: I was born in 1937 ]

Singers and Congressmen

2011-07-30T07:35:00.000-04:00

The Aging Singers topic continues to generate thoughtful comments, and once again, I thank you for sharing. If you would like to read them for yourself, simply scroll to the original post titled "Going, Going ... Gone?" below and click on Comments which now indicate 7 responses. And by all means, join the discussion if you like.

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SloaneView does not express a political point of view. However, it cannot be denied that this summer of 2011 is the most difficult our country has known for a very long time, and not just because of the political fracas in Washington confronting us with a daily dose of stress, bewilderment, fear, anger, frustration and bitterness on a scale not unprecedented but most certainly monumental.

Like you, we hope and pray that a bill will in fact manage to scrape through both Houses of Congress, but it will look pretty worn out with those hundreds of cut&paste paragraphs of scribbled demands and proposed compromise language written with such furor as to tear the page. In the end, not one politician will emerge unscathed. All will be bruised, battered and exhausted, just like all the rest of us.

Your thoughtful comments ...

2011-07-27T14:35:00.000-04:00

Thank you all for sharing your opinions regarding aging singers. I hope others of you will take the time to tell me how you feel.

Surely, the singer alone must decide whether to continue or not. If the voice has deteriorated but his or her name alone can fill the venue, then the audience arrives to pay tribute to the years of listening pleasure fans enjoyed over the decades. For myself, I find it so uncomfortable to hear a colleague struggling, I simply refrain from attending the performance. Often, highly influential, professional critics will make every effort to praise the singer's mature and sensitive reading of a lyric, i.e., " ... Can't hold a note, but even a sing/speak treatment is so effective, reflecting as it does the artist's optimistic vigor in spite of the odds." I myself cringe and squirm, sigh and weep.

Regarding Ella Fitzgerald, I experienced the great privilege of travelling with her on two of her late 1970's European tours, a period when her lower register exhibited the first signs of a widening vibrato. Once she came off stage with the sound of the audience howling for yet another encore (which would have counted six in all), glistening with damp proof of exertion and beaming in triumph. I told her I heard a lot of Ben Webster in her low notes. She grinned, said "Really?", and gave me a hug.

I believe Ella lived for those moments. She was so admired and adored, not only for her remarkable skills as a jazz singer, but her humility and gentle demeanor entranced us as well. For Ella, I can only imagine how happy she was to scan her next itinerary when her manager's office had finalized all details for yet another long concert tour. I like to think her stage wardrobe was in a perpetual stage of readiness, that her passport was packed, her music library was arranged, and her musicians were as eager as she to go on the road again.

With Ole Blue Eyes, I'm sure he too loved the pure physical act of singing, with the accompanying thunderous wave of love and adoration bestowed unconditionally. I never saw him in person, and I'm glad I didn't having read various accounts of his stutter-step performances and reliance on tele-prompters during the late years. That would have devastated me. (Aside: My all-time favorite Sinatra album is "The Wee Small Hours". What's yours?)

Scroll down, click "Comments" below and tell me what you think.

Going, Going .... Gone?

2011-07-25T21:38:00.000-04:00

A knowledgeable online group to which I belong called SONGBIRDS* recently discussed the subject of aging voices and whether or not singers with diminished ability should continue as if they were still on top of their game, or slip quietly into retirement. Of course, the deterioration of vocal prowess demonstrated by Frank Sinatra and Ella Fitzgerald in the latter stages of their illustrious careers were two spectacular examples of a sort of "show must go on" tenacity, but many expressed their dismay upon hearing ragged technique where once there had been flawless, thrilling musicality.

An internationally-famous cabaret singer has admitted to some loss of flexibility saying her voice has remained strong and supple, if a wee bit less confident in her upper register. She states that "with age, one tends to lose a little bit on top and you must therefore invest in your bottom, which stays strong."

This delicately worded description about how one might adjust to the vagaries of aging vocal chords aptly applies to my own experience. I have a substantial investment in my bottom, and have gone so far as to widen various other portions of my anatomy to accomodate the disparities.

I think my own voice has retained its fluidity, but it's been over a year since the tiniest of notes has passed over my larynx so I can't really say with any authority whether my humble skill as a vocalist still exists. My sister will be my most welcome house guest in a few weeks and we like to sing while driving to the grocery store. I'll soon discover if my top is in tact or if my bottom controls the sound.

Speaking of bottoms, you may know that in England, when friends meet in a bar, one might be heard to ask another: "May I top you up?", meaning "Would you like a refill?". My husband loved the phrase when first he heard it, but he startled friends with whom we were sharing dinner one night by asking: "Honey ... May I cover your bottom?"

I'd like to hear how you feel about aging voices. Just click "Comments" below, right there next to the time stamp.

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*The detailed description of the Songbirds group is lovingly set forth by one of our most respected senior members, Mr. Tom Pierce. Every word he writes is true.

Happy Birthday Sis

2011-06-02T05:00:00.000-04:00

The year 1941. I'm the weirdly dressed but cute as a button one on the left. The really adorable, sort of Oriental-looking cute one on the right is my sister Lois. Harsh sunlight bothered her, as did winter's cold. Still does, as a matter of fact.

There are so many memories of our years growing up together, but I vividly remember frigid mornings, standing outside the locked doors of St. Peter's School in Greenville, RI, along with six or seven other pitiful, shivering children huddled together for warmth. This Dickensian scene describes those of us unfortunate enough to be first arrivals. The Sisters of Mercy (a misnomer if ever there was one) declared that no students could be admitted into the toasty warm school building until ALL students were present and accounted for.

Her acute sensitivity to cold caused poor little Lois's hands to turn blue. In frustration and genuine outrage, I once took it upon myself to bang the front door loudly, gaining the attention and consternation of Sister Mary Benedict, a tall, thin-nosed woman whose kind and patient demeanor in the classroom always impressed me. Surely she would take pity on my now almost navy blue-handed sister, make an exception and permit her to enter and thaw out. She could see for herself how merciful it would be to ease Lois's discomfort, couldn't she?

Fat chance. Rules were (and still are, after all) RULES!! established for the very best of reasons, the mysterious benefits of which were to be withheld from children, who knowing them, might question and even rebel. Not likely in a Catholic school, of course. But it was right about that time that Lois and I decided we would NOT become nuns. Ever.

Lois is a cat lover, a letter-writer (she knows not the intricacies of a computer), a prolific Thank You, Christmas-Easter-Birthday card sender, and an admirer of cat-related kitsch who pastes darling images of cats all over the envelopes she mails. Thanks to her, my kitchen calendar features monthly photographs of adorable kittens. Easter changes the decor of her house dramatically, hard surfaces providing perfect display areas for ceramic rabbits and Easter egg baskets. The result is abundantly cheerful. Lois has never met a knick-knack she didn't like, although the last time we visited a shop filled with that sort of merchandise, we entered a solemn sisterly pact to stop buying the stuff from that moment on. (See, it's in the genes and I am prone to the disease myself).

When we were growing up, we enjoyed the luxury of separate bedrooms, each decorated as we wished. Hers was filled with posters and magazine photographs of her favorite movie stars, i.e., Robert Wagner (before he chose Natalie Wood instead of her) and Marlon Brando in his leather and bike gear for the 1953 film "The Wild One". Her love affair with Wagner continues to this day, and she actually met him, backstage at a road company production of the two-character play "Love Letters". She very nearly fainted dead away.

Being a singer with some experience, I can attest that my sister is a terrific vocalist. We both inherited good natural voices and applied them with teen-age gusto in the church choir. Lois could have had a singing career if not for a chronic case of stage fright. However, she gradually understood and dealt with it, and used it most effectively one winter night a few years ago when I was to appear at a Rhode Island jazz club.

The snow and slick highway made for an interesting journey for the driver, the late, great jazz drummer Alan Dawson, so we arrived after start time. To my surprise, I saw and heard my sister's distinctive voice swinging away on some standard tune (scat singing included, if you please!) It was a sweet, and generous gesture, keeping the audience entertained until I showed up.

Thank you Lois!

The photo of us below was taken two years ago at her surprise 70th birthday. Far as I'm concerned, she still looks cute.

So ....
Happy Birthday To You ...
Happy Birthday To You ...
Happy Birthday dear Lois ...
Happy Birthday to you ....

The Visit

2011-05-23T21:26:00.000-04:00

****** Long fascinated by the incredibly versatile sounds birds make, I often focus attentively on their measured tweets and twirts, and patiently share the gap in communication which the sender must endure until he receives a reponse. I enjoy these conversations which I'm certain contain vital information regarding tracking systems, weather conditions, head and tail wind velocities and other crucial flight data. They may even be discussing navigational routes for the next trip while job assignments are posted. My visitor this morning obviously pulled the over-night duty.

At around 3AM, a lone feathered friend perched outside my bedroom window which was open a few inches as usual. This character initiated a faint-sounding warble, and I listened in eager anticipation along with him for a group member's response. The song sketched was thin, an anemic sound I thought. Some severe and unexpected turbulence might have exerted extra pressure to his fuselage and delicate wing structure. Whatever the cause, he sounded pretty exhausted.

His visit evolved into one much longer than usual, and the intervals between his calls were lengthy, each "Yoo-hoo" producing nothing but dead air. He patiently maintained his position and then skillfully but weakly called once more.

I began to think of him as an elderly telegrapher, weary and frustrated, shaking himself to alert status, and gamely trying yet again to make a connection, not unlike the people who sit at computer monitors flinging blips and beep signals into outer space hoping to finally pick up a "Well, hello there! How the hell are you? What a nice surprise! Let's get together real soon!"

I hope my Signalman comes back tonight.

On The Death Of A Fanatic

2011-05-02T12:59:00.000-04:00

With today's sensational news that Osama bin Laden has been killed, it's obvious that the draft labeled "Post Wedding Fatigue" should be forwarded to the dust bin.

I approve of the extremely prudent decision to bury his body at sea. Capture him, take him where? Parade him as some sort of trophy? Perhaps Mr. Bush would have enjoyed displaying the dead man's head on a pole on the White House lawn, but that gesture would be as knuckle-headed as standing in front of a large banner, emblazoned with the premature victory message "Mission Accomplished". However, we are now forced to be even more vigilant.

ObL fully prepared for his inevitable demise, and at this moment, his successor has no doubt gathered other fanatics prepared to implement a directive to strike one or more vulnerable targets anywhere in the Western world. Those people are just as angry now as we are jubilant. Perhaps even more so.

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The Royal Wedding

2011-04-28T16:25:00.000-04:00

****** A little girl of my generation grew up hearing bedtime stories featuring a handsome prince or two, wicked step-mothers, poisoned apples and golden coaches, industrious dwarfs, humble cottages, palaces and happy endings. No wonder I was fully enchanted to discover a genuine royal family living just across the Atlantic Ocean in a country filled with moated castles and diamond tiaras, not to mention a glorious history.

Accordingly, on November 20, 1947, at age ten, I demanded to be awakened in the pre-dawn hours to huddle beside the radio and share the BBC commentary of the Royal Wedding of Princess Elizabeth to Lieutenant Philip Mountbatten, Prince of Greece and Denmark. Here is some information about him which is easily found on-line:

Prior to the official engagement announcement, he renounced his Greek and Danish royal titles, converted from Greek Orthodoxy to Anglicanism, and became a naturalised British subject, adopting the surname Mountbatten from his British maternal grandparents. After an official engagement of five months, as Lieutenant Philip Mountbatten he married Elizabeth on 20 November 1947. On his marriage, he was granted the style of His Royal Highness and the title of Duke of Edinburgh by his father-in-law. Philip left active service, having reached the rank of Commander, when Elizabeth became Queen in 1952. His wife made him a Prince of the United Kingdom in 1957.

Tomorrow morning, I'll witness every second of the pageantry for which royals are famous, preserving the moments on my antiquated VCR equipment. I didn't own the technology, nor was it actually available, to tape the Charles and Diana nuptials, but a friend who was in London at the time brought me a salt and pepper set bearing their likenesses. Not worth much then because of the over-abundance of such commemorative kitsch, but when one considers subsequent events, perhaps their value will increase over time.

I can just see the grandchildren at the Antiques Roadshow ... "Oh, we've had these in the family for over fifty years", and being told they might fetch $50 at a specialty auction.

Enough. I'm off to check my video tape supply. Buck: Pour me a wee gin and tonic please, there's a good chap.

Unchained Melody

2011-04-26T23:23:00.000-04:00

It is a way cool moment when you step into the kitchen for that first cup of coffee and discover a banana inscribed with the words "I love you". There it was, nestled with other pieces of fruit in the bowl, and I can't say the sight of it brought tears to my eyes, but it did inspire me to plan one of his favorite dishes for dinner. "And, what would that be?", I hear you ask. Whole chicken roasted, with red potatoes, haricots verts, home-made cranberry sauce, with roasted stone fruit served over vanilla ice cream for dessert.

Incidentally, Buck and I will celebrate our Silver Wedding Anniversary in November, and we have run the rapids with only minor abrasions and contusions to show for the journey ... so far. Sturdy equipment (a healthy sense of humor) and proper safety gear (we talk about everything) have helped maintain our equilibrium. Sharing a loving and healthy family is good too. Now that's a lovely bunch of bananas.

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Bought an item of apparel for an exhorbitant amount which now looks like hell in the full-length mirror?

Well, I confess. It's all my fault. If I'd only sent you that chain letter which promised exhorbitant wealth in an abundant stream, or the one that guaranteed a free pass through the gates of heaven, or the one that offered perpetual protection from physical harm.

If only I'd dispatched emails to you and at least eight to twelve other unsuspecting acquaintances, none of this would have happened. I am so sorry. But, I want to make it clear that I am not nor have I ever been a reliable distributor of this sort of material. It will be kind of you to refrain from adding my name to your list in future. The chain will be broken in my hands ... yes, dare I say it? "The Buck Stops Here."

The Art Of Baking ....

2011-03-23T13:45:00.002-04:00

The post below, originally published on March 17th, is a piece of frivolous fluff, but since I hadn't written for months, it was merely an exercise: staring at a blank screen, hoping for some kind of inspiration, and the following is the result.
-The Editor-in-Chief
************************************

My last post was dated September 29, 2010. Where have I been? ("Right here"). What have I been doing? ("Not much to speak of") except (fanfare please):

I believe I've mastered the art of making a perfect pie crust. Somehow, I've always felt this to be a significant accomplishment, not unlike pitching a no-hitter. Ardent, well-intentioned past efforts have produced substances tough enough to plug any puncture in your Pirellis, but I can now boast that my pie crust is perfect and exceptionally easy to make, thanks to my food processor and Ina Garten.

It is a very good rule to read ALL instructions several times before starting out, to visualize the steps, assemble necessary ingredients and utensils (bowls, measuring spoons, etc.). It is because I have too often failed to practice what I preach that I've had my share of colossal baking failures, to wit: an alluring recipe for a tantalizing concoction called "Maple Cream Cake" invented by a stay-at-home Mom and which had consistently received highest praise from her kids: ("It's, like very good"). I will never know. I assumed I could incorporate ordinary syrup such as the Vermont Maid in my cupboard. On double-checking after tossing the horrid mess into the trash, there it was: It needed Grade B syrup, not the less potent substitute I'd used.

Or how about this bomb: I had assembled and double-checked before launching into the delicious filling for the graham cracker crust: Juice and zest of four large lemons, 3 egg yolks, and a 14 oz. can of sweetened condensed milk to be added, the mixture then poured into the crust. I knew I had the C-milk in the pantry, and having mixed all other items, was ready to add it. The stuff in the can I opened was the color and consistency of crankcase residue, not glossy white or fluid enough to pour. I nonetheless spooned the goo into the bowl, having tasted it to determine the extent of its deterioration. A tiny bit tart, shall we say, but certainly not totally inedible. It emerged from the oven a pumpkin-like color and too evil-looking to even consider a wee bite. It was only then I checked the bottom of the can: "Best Used by 2006". The whole mess was tossed into the garbage disposal. P.S.: I have made this delicious, rich pie several times since then, dinner guests suitably impressed.

They say we learn by our mistakes and at this rate, I'll be ready to publish my own Baking With Carol Sloane Volume I within the next ten years. I sing while I bake, by the way: Favorite melodies are "I'm Putting All My Eggs In One Basket" and "You're The Cream In My Coffee". Alternative titles welcome.

*******
My good pal, superb bass player and exceptionally witty fellow Bill Crow, submitted this comment: My cooking songs: Frim Fram Sauce, All That Meat and No Potatoes, Southern Fried, Save the Bones for Henry Jones, Jambalaya, Yes We Have No Bananas and (I love this one):" Miss Otis Regrets. I could add Bitin My Thyme, but you would just laugh.

September Song

2010-09-29T15:48:00.000-04:00

Oh, it's a long, long while
From May to December ...
But the days grow short
When you reach September ...

I once sang an a cappella version of "September Song" at the request of a then recently widowed wife of a robust NC State Psychology Professor who had suddenly collapsed on the tennis court while playing mixed doubles with his wife and another couple. On this penultimate day of the month, the memory of that time and place and the huge crowd of friends and admirers assembled to honor the man fills my mind. I enjoyed a wonderful life in North Carolina where I found love and lasting friendships cherished to this day.

Many of my friends still reside in and around the Research Triangle area which comprises the cities of Raleigh, Durham and Chapel Hill. There is a large academic community with N.C. State University (Raleigh), Duke University (Durham) and The University of North Carolina (Chapel Hill), otherwise known respectively as The Wolf Pack, The Blue Devils and The Tar Heels. I had little interest in college sports at the time which meant I listened to opera broadcasts from the Met on Saturdays while others zestily rooty-tooted for their home team. I was equally blissfully unaware of the magnificent athleticism of the major players and certainly knew nothing of their fame.

While performing one evening at an elegant supper club in Chapel Hill*, I was annoyed when interrupted in the middle of a ballad (!) by what seemed a bit of a dust up at the entrance. "What was that all about and who ARE those people?", the outraged diva demanded to know. "Oh, Michael Jordan and James Worthy just came in". I feigned excitement that the two had chosen to grace us with their presence, but I had not a clue who they were. People found this very amusing and some even felt sorry for me. I later learned to admire Mr. Jordan enormously, even when he seemed almost single-handedly to defeat my beloved Boston Celtics.

Speaking of great sports figures, you might enjoy reading today's article in The Boston Globe about Ted Williams written by Dan Shaughnessy. I did see Ted Williams play because my parents were deeply loyal Red Sox fans all their lives, and they took me to Fenway Park for a Sox/NY Yankees game. How my father ever managed to get the tickets remains a mystery, but we were all so excited about the trip on the train from Providence to our seats in Section 15, high up but along the first base line. What a day. Good time to insert the story about my mother: She once had bleacher tickets for a Sox double-header. Probably went with a group of friends, all because she was the biggest Ted Williams fan. When she returned home, I remember how thilled she was to tell my grandfather all about it, while I sat close by, feeling certain her badly fried face must certainly feel tender to the touch. She seemed not to notice. I just remember her eyes were shining as she related the details of the glorious moments she had witnessed.

The Red Sox are out of contention for the season. Too many injuries and fierce competion from the Tampa Bay Rays and the New York Yankees (a/k/a The Dirty Rats). My husband and I nonetheless watch the games because that's what we do during the regular season, and because I remember how I long for all this during the winter months. Patriots, Celtics, some golf, certainly watched ALL the major tennis matches starting with the Australian (in awe of Rafael Nadal's talent). We should change our address to Sports Central.

******
* It was called Stephen's, After All

Early Autumn

2010-09-22T11:15:00.000-04:00

Fall cometh at last ... in fact, it will officially arrive at 11:09 PM this evening, when the sun appears to cross the celestial equator, from north to south; this marks the beginning of autumn in the Northern Hemisphere (which happens to be my home town), and I intend to wallow in the glories of the season: apple pies, pumpkin pies, roast turkey (with its varied, edible accoutrements), cool nights and frosty mornings, hot chocolate, football games and less and less daylight. This latter phenomenon tends to enervate some people, my husband included. For myself, there is no difficulty adjusting to conditions. I just spend more time in the kitchen and/or reading a good book.*

******

On August 14, 2010, my most esteemed colleague Abbey Lincoln died in New York City after a lengthy illness. She and I were acquaintances but not close friends. I very much admired the songs she composed, and found her somewhat gritty-textured voice most appealing. The first time I saw her was at The Village Vanguard with Max Roach, during the "black power" period. She wore her hair close-cropped which, like Carmen McRae's in the late years, never obscured either ladies' dazzling facial beauty. She raised her fist defiantly more than once during the set which intimidated me to the extent that I couldn't muster the courage to approach her between sets to express my admiration. I told her of this story when we shared a dressing room at Carnegie Hall some years ago. She gave me a wide grin and put her arm around my shoulder but said nothing. Whenever I hear Abbey sing "Throw It Away" with the lines " ... so keep your hand wide open and let the sunshine through" I always think of her ..... and always with great fondness.
I was also quite gratified when she told me she knew and enjoyed my work, and I will forever regret that she will no longer beguile us in person or on recordings. R.I.P. dear Abbey.

******

* Last fine book I read: "Solar" by Ian McEwan, and just recently, a typically quirky short story by Alan Bennett which appears in the September 9, 2010, issue of London Review Of Books. Titled "The Greening Of Mrs. Donaldson", she is a widow who takes in a young college-age couple as boarders. When they have trouble paying the rent, they invite Mrs. D to sit close by the bed to observe them making love, as if this were some sort of equivalent compensation. Go London Review of Books and search the archives under Alan Bennett. I think you can read the piece even if you are not a subscriber. Let me know if I'm wrong.

I'm into the kitchen to bake the first of the season's apple pies.

******

Summer Reading

2010-07-26T14:59:00.000-04:00

I have completed the task of reading Justin Cronin's book titled "The Passage", and after 766 pages of vivid encounters with creatures of horrendous proportions and voracious appetites mainly for human flesh, I am rewarding myself with a very dry martini. I fell for the hype. That's why I bought the book. But I can see it transformed by special effects' technicians who will create scenes of mass destruction, desolation and desperation on film for a young audience whose stupendous support at the box office will generate millions of dollars for all involved.

Apparently, Mr. Cronin has two follow-up books ready for publication, but I shall pass. I am not much for this sort of "literature", so the rest of the summer I will be re-reading Hemingway. Incidentally, go here for a comprehensive review of "The Passage" written by Ron Charles, the Fiction Editor of The Washington Post. He may persuade you to get on the band wagon too. I can't deny the story is a near-perfect summer read. Just keep the martini pitcher handy.

July 20th Caught In The Act

2010-07-22T15:15:00.001-04:00

On July 20th, I proudly performed as part of the Jazz In July series at the 92nd St. Y in Manhattan's UES. Artistic Director Bill Charlap assembled an all-star band: Ken Peplowski, tenor and clarinet; Byron Stripling, trumpet; John Allred, trombone; Ted Rosenthal, piano; Bill Charlap, piano; Sean Smith, bass, and Lewis Nash at the drums. The program was titled "Hooray For Hollywood" and I got to sing four melodies I've always liked but never actually inserted in any set list ever (except for "As Time Goes By" which was the closer featuring all of the soloists).

In the first part of the show, I sang "When You Wish Upon A Star" from the 1940 animated Disney film "Pinocchio". In the movie, the song is sung by the insect character Jiminy Cricket, the sweet voice of Cliff Edwards doing the actual singing.

With the elegant assistance of John Allred on trombone, we channeled Lee Wiley's version of "Moon River" from her legendary cd "Back Home Again".

In Part II, I sang "The Days Of Wine And Roses" while standing beside handsome Byron Stripling whose trumpet gave the song gorgeous added texture, and then "Somewhere Over The Rainbow" as Ted Rosenthal played piano with great sensitivity, gracefully guiding me through the familiar, beloved changes. I can't begin to tell you what an immense pleasure it all was for me.

My good friend, main photographer/make-up man and Best Pal Eric Jacobs saw to it that my face and hair looked their best so that I strode on stage with confidence, and the audience was warm and welcoming, just as one has come to expect from the knowledgeable 92nd St. Y jazz fans. Thanks to everyone but especially darling Bill Charlap.

What Can I Say?

2010-07-14T14:37:00.002-04:00

I am in receipt of this email:

"Dear Mrs. Sloane,

You are an inspiration for all of us. I’d like to invite you to hear a few examples of my jazz singing. Please, listen the tracks entirely and you will see me imitating a trumpet with my voice on “‘Round Midnight” and doing the scats on “My Funny Valentine”.

Jazz is relatively poor in male singers but I assure you that I am a real jazz singer."

* * *

Although I audibly groan anticipating the sound of a voice imitating a trumpet on "Round Midnight", or even more frightening, that I'm about to hear a machete-chop through "the scats" on "My Funny Valentine", nevertheless, with misgiving aforethought, I visit the site he provided, instinctively sensing I am stepping through and into the portals of Vocal Hell.

This poor guy can't sing a note, let alone the challenging melodies and intervals each of those songs possess. How did he ever become so delusional? How do any talentless people persuade themselves they can do it better than Mark Murphy, Sinatra, Joe Williams or Nat King Cole, to name a few. Why hasn't someone delicately and with utmost consideration for his feelings advised "Don't give up the day job? Shall I be the one to (1) burst his dangerously inflated balloon, or (2) simply reply that I am unfortunately unable to offer any helpful assistance at this time, or (3) should I ignore the note completely. The last is just too rude. I'm going with Door No. 2.

Speaking of screwing up cherished melodies, I will recommend you NOT GO NEAR the newest recording by famed operatic soprano Jessye Norman ("Roots: My Life, My Song", a 2-cd set on Sony). I will confess to having heard only the stingy snippets amazon.com provides, but they are enough to make my head spin. Ms. Norman "pays tribute" to Ellington and Monk (!), and acknowledges her admiration for and being influenced by Ella Fitzgerald, Nina Simone, Lena Horne and others, producing calamitous, seriously flawed readings of "Don't Get Around Much Anymore", "Take The "A" Train", and "It Don't Mean A Thing If It Ain't Got That Swing". Please believe me: Indeed, it don't.

Although I feel certain hers is a sincere tribute to Ella et al, I don't quite see it that way. In her interpretations of standard jazz classics, she has basically trivialized the music rather than elevated it. These songs were brilliant at birth, filled with the original joyous content of syncopation and swing. For all her vocal prowess, Ms. Norman is beyond her depth here, and it would all be quite laughable if it weren't also so embarrassingly awful.

* * *

I am off to sweltering Manhattan next week to sing four songs with Bill Charlap and an All-Star band. His Jazz In July series at the 92nd St. Y will feature Hollywood film music, and so I will explore familiar material not previously absorbed by my larynx: "When You Wish Upon A Star", "Moon River", "The Days Of Wine and Roses" and (heaven help me) "Somewhere Over The Rainbow". The program closes with "As Time Goes By", a song beloved by all, and which I know by heart along with all the dialogue from "Casablanca".

Father's Day, 2010

2010-06-22T13:00:00.000-04:00

A major technical glitch occured at BlogSpot over the weekend, thereby preventing the publication of a Father's Day tribute on Sunday. Here is the belated item:

Frank Albany Morvan
September 26, 1909 - June 5, 1993

Well, there he is! The short stop for the Esmond Mills Textile League, c. 1930, at the precise moment of ball-to-bat contact. In my earliest memories of my father, he's in his baseball uniform. Family pictorial archives over-flow with images of me, sleeping in my pram behind the back-stop, while Dad strode to the plate and (from all accounts) could be counted on to put the team in a winning position with his youthful confidence and graceful skill, a consistent string of singles and doubles comprising the basic staples in his talented bag. He was a popular man in town, and we were all very proud of him. Good-looking chap too (or Claudia wouldn't have given him a second glance), he loved baseball and the Boston Red Sox all his life, and I inherited his depth of devotion.

He loved the popular music of the day, and when he chose to join us in a chorus or two of some familiar ditty, his vocal quality very much resembled Bing Crosby's silken croon. He was a gentle, smooth man himself, who enjoyed the outdoors, and the solitude of fishing for perch on Georgiaville Pond. He taught my sister how to bait a hook with a night-crawler harvested from the back yard in the wee small hours of the morning (I never quite got the hang of this particularly gruesome activity myself), but he praised us when we got a bite or actually landed a ferocious blue gill. (He would have baited my hook for me).

He liked the Glenn Miller Orchestra, Peggy Lee, four-part harmony groups (especially The Mills Brothers), and confessed an admiration for Gene Autry's Texas twang even though we teased him about it. He also loved the sound of the U.S. Military Academy Choir and their rousing renditions of patriotic songs.

My mother packed him off in the family sedan at Christmas and Thanksgiving during WWII to the USO station in downtown Providence. His orders were to invite as many as would fit into the car to join us for a feast and some genuine family holiday fun. Lots of young men from many far-away states became our friends, and Mom maintained a correspondence with them through the remainder of the War and beyond. One of our gifts to them: A free long-distance call to their families wherever they might be.

Dad liked to listen to a baseball game and drink a cold one in the back yard on a hot summer day while spluttering and howling about some stupid error committed by the Red Sox. A favorite beverage was the locally-brewed Narragansett Beer which is currently enjoying a huge renaissance in New England. Miss you Dad. Hope the brewery's open where you are.

Preserving the tradition of fair and unbiased journalism, SloaneView directs you to this site for our Mother's Day, 2010 article.

Contest Answers

2010-06-03T13:36:00.000-04:00

Happy to report that three loyal readers correctly identified the films and characters saying the lines. I think the last one may have stymied a few people (the word "hairdresser" was the clue). SloaneView Editors thank each of you for participating. The prize is a comp ticket to any future performance of mine in or near your city. Here are the correct answers:

A: Casablanca
Ilsa to Rick at LaBelle Aurore.

B: The Women
Spoken by Joan Crawford as Crystal Allen to Norma Shearer as Mary Haines in the dressing room of fashion salon.

C: It's A Wonderful Life
Town floozy Violet Bick played by Gloria Grahame when complimented on her dress.

D: Close Encounters/Third Kind
Richard Dreyfuss as Roy Neary to his children after he has seen a UFO.

E: Educating Rita
Marie Conmee as a customer of Rita the hairdresser played by Julie Walters.

We now return you to our regularly-scheduled program.

Who said that?

2010-05-21T11:58:00.000-04:00

There are hundreds of famous movie quotes, i.e.,

"Fasten your seat belt: it's going to be a bumpy night."

"I coulda been somebody ... I coulda been a contender."

"Toto, I don't think we're in Kansas anymore."

"What a dump."

Herein, a contest begins and a prize for correctly identifying each of the following movies and actors will be awarded by a panel of impartial judges.

In which movies do the following not so familiar quotes appear and who speaks the lines?

****
A:

"Where were you say ten years ago?"
"Ten years ago ...let's see. Yes, I was having a brace put on my teeth. Where were you?
"Looking for a job."

Hint: 1942 B&W, One-word title.

****
B:

"If I'm wearing something Stephen doesn't like, I take it off."

Hint: 1939 B&W, Two-word title; unique cast

****
C:

"What? This old thing? I only wear this when I don't care how I look."

Hint: 1946, B&W, Four-word title

****
D:

"C'mon kids! This is better than goofy golf."

Hint: 1977 Color, Six-Word title

****
E:

Client to hairdresser:
"Is that a book you're reading?"
"Yeah"
"My husband's got a lot of books like that".
"What? Somerset Maugham books?"
"No. Bondage books".

Hint: 1983 Color, Two-word title.

Submit answers by clicking THE TIME OF THE POSTING, and good luck to all. As you can tell, this is just stuff and nonsense, but might be a bit of fun. You can also easily discern that I am a b&w movie fan, preferring films of the late 1930's and 1940's. I'll keep this going until I can acknowledge a winner.

Have a great weekend and GO CELTICS! GO SOX!

Mel Brooks Visits My Apartment

2010-05-20T14:14:00.000-04:00

I was going to tell you about several fun-filled meetings with Mel Brooks which occurred in the earliest days of my life in Greenwich Village. In 1958, I lived in a one-room basement apartment in a building which still exists. I know: I paid a brief nostalgia call to the address recently.

My neighbor, Charles Morgan Harris, a darling, starving illustrator, lived in an identical cramped unit beside mine. We learned quickly that we shared a love of jazz and our friendship lasted until his untimely death. Our small building contained six other tiny apartments, one of them the second-floor residence of an elderly, very patient lady named Mrs. Eleanor Biddlecomb. Perfect! Lacy, genteel, a cat/owner lover.

Our digs faced an indoor courtyard, an area which softened street noises and provided my cat the opportunity to pay a Curiosity Call on neighbors who left windows open. The building which fronts West 15th Street also housed a woman who provided secretarial services. One of her clients was Mel Brooks.

On a balmy spring night, Charles and I were sitting in the couryard sipping our favorite beverages with Miles Davis sounds in the background. We recognized MB as he approached and pulled up a chair. Mr. Brooks was not as well-known as he is today, and should it be possible you know not of his accomplishments, please go here.

Before long, Mel had us reeling with his jokes and hilarious takes on people and life in general. He was soon scheduled to appear on The Late Show Starring Johnny Carson, and he couldn't resist rehearsing his schtick for us: He would sit in the Number One Guest Chair and after a few minutes, Johnny would mention, feigning naive curiosity: "You like to sing, don't you Mel?" To which Mel would reply: "Well, yes ... and if I may ... I'd like to ... may I?" "Of course, please do", responds JC.

Mel: (To Skitch (Henderson, band leader): I'll sing "Dancing In The Dark" if that's okay ... just give me an arpeggio in C ... "

Mel begins to sing, and gets as far as " ... so deep in my heart, you're really a part of me", suddenly breaking off. "No, sorry Skitch, that key's too low ... could you take it up a half-step." Skitch complies. Mel stops in the same place. "Sorry, it's still a little too low ... another half-step please?" Mel stops at the same place again, and this time he's standing, presumably to make it easier to reach the low notes. The back-and-forth continues, taking Mel progressively into higher musical range. He's now standing ON the chair. Still no luck. Finally, Mel is standing on Johnny's desk, audience is screaming and JC looks appropriately bemused. Charles and I are now hysterical, holding our sides and gasping for air.

Before he left us, we asked about future projects. "Well, I can tell you now that I will one day produce a Broadway show called "Springtime For Hitler". We explode into tear-producing laughter: "Oh Mel! STOP ... we can't take it any more!

P.S. Please take special note next time you see it: In the movie "The Producers", starring Zero Mostel as Max Bialystock and Gene Wilder as Leo Bloom, there is a scene in which CPA Leo Bloom is carefully entering the names and amounts little old ladies have contributed to Max Bialystock's forthcoming project. One of the checks is signed "Mrs. Eleanor Biddlecomb".

Originally posted May 27, 2007
Labels: Mel Brooks Visits My Apartment

The World's Greatest Invention

2010-05-19T20:11:00.000-04:00

I'm lucky. I have one of those new-fangled gadgets called a television remote control. I'm sure you've seen them? Had it for a long time, actually. Long ago, I mastered the art of "mute" control and can successfully "zap" commercials filled with acidic clanging guitars and images of a band whose members appear not to have seen the inside of a shower stall for months as they all vaporize into silent grotesque mad men gyrating in an asylum. How sweet it is.

The high decibel count of most movie sound tracks also seems to reflect a significant erosion of the audio-intake capacity of today's sound engineers who most probably spent their idylic youth and entertainment dollars standing as close as possible to the Greyhound Bus-sized speakers de rigueur for any rock concert.

I was in the Mets' dugout for a Rolling Stones' Concert at New York's Shea Stadium. (That's a nice but long story I will happily relate at some other time.) I only mention it as a reference to the near-fatal assault on my fragile sense of hearing by quoting this insane statistic from The New York Daily News:

" .... the band almost erased the sound of the jets from nearby LaGuardia Airport, thanks to their 2.4 million watts of amplification." [Emphasis added] I'm sure some Staten Island residents and a few unfortunate New Jerseyites also heard the band from the comfort of their own front yards.

But why, I hear you plaintively ask, choose this as a focus for today's Blog? Good question. I was thinking about one of Mel Brooks' most famous characters, The 2,000 Year-Old Man. During his historic interview with Carl Reiner, he was asked if he would name mankind's greatest discovery. Quickly came the reply: "Saran Wrap! You can make a sandwich and it clings ... you can look right through it. The greatest thing that mankind ever devised. Saran Wrap." I dispute this claim. The greatest thing that mankind ever devised is The Mute Button!

Tomorrow, a Blog reprint of a famous meeting with Mel in my Greenwich Village apartment. You'll love it. I did.

About last night ...

2010-05-18T14:00:00.000-04:00

Last night's spirited game between the Boston Red Sox and the New York Yankees produced one long, loud, and very painful "Oh S@*%T@!!!!!" shriek in this house. For those of you who don't give baseball so much as a passing nod of recognition, the game provided many tense moments, but at a hard-fought lead of 9-7, I thought the Sox had it wrapped up. Grrrrrrrr. One should not anticipate victory in such a cavalier fashion, especially when facing the daunting Yankee bench. What did Yogi say? Oh yeah: It's not over until Carol Sloane sings.

However, I thought our ace reliever, Jonathan Papelbon, would surely save the day. I also knew he'd probably give up at least one hit. He likes to do that now and then just for fun and to keep us on our toes in the final innings. Then, with one man on and the Yankees down 9-7, one of our favorite villains otherwise known as Alex Rodriguez ("A-Rod") stepped to the plate and was given a gift: a 94-mph fast ball right down the middle which flew into the Yankees' bullpen. Marcus Thames, a man whom one may assume is a perfect gentleman off the field, hit a two-run blast two batters later and we were left with pin-stripe markings all over our faces for a final of 11-9. I howled an oath not fit to print in this family blog, and angrily switched off the bedroom light.

The Boston Celtics face the Orlando Magic tonight, one game up. And I see that Kobe Bryant scored 40 points all by himself, even with a bad knee in the Lakers/Phoenix Suns game. Boston is salivating at the thought of yet another final with LA, but we've got to dominate the Orlando team first.

Meantime, the world of jazz lost yet another musician with impeccable musical credentials, enviable charm and style with the news that Hank Jones died on Monday, May 17 at a New York hospital. I wish we had known one another. I always dreamed of working with him, even if we only did one song together. That would have been a drop of 23k gold in my jewel box. You can hear his acutely sensitive accompaniment on many recordings, but just listen to how he plays for the exquisite Abby Lincoln on "You Gotta Pay The Band" Verve, 1991. "Bird Alone", Abby's composition, is the first track and is one of my all-time favorite pieces of music.

Please Check Your Spam Folder

2010-05-17T15:11:00.000-04:00

I am always glad to read your mail, and I respond to each one (unless of course you're a Yankee fan ... just kidding). But if your mail box doesn't recognize my email address, it will automaticaly throw my reply into the Spam bin. My email address contains my name so keep an eye out for it. Send a note through my web site.

The Boston Bruins are no more; the Boston Celtics won the first game of the NBA Eastern Conference Finals last night, beating the tough Orlando Magic 92-88. The Boston Red Sox are flailing and it's not a pretty sight. It's a long season, however, and we have plenty of hope and Sam Adams to see us through.

I am just opening the first pages of David Remnick's book "The Bridge". Since I am a fan of the President's, I look forward to learning more about him. Ian McEwan's "Solar" is on its way. We've been fans of this British author since the publication of his immensely readable "Saturday", and subsequent books have reinforced our first impression of a literary talent of significant measure. Loved "The Girl With The Dragon Tatoo", followed by "The Girl Who Played With Fire", and eagerly anticipate the completion of the trilogy with "The Girl Who Kicked The Hornet's Nest", due in stores next week.

(Stieg Larsson, who lived in Sweden, was the editor in chief of the magazine Expo and a leading expert on antidemocratic right-wing extremist and Nazi organizations. He died in 2004, shortly after delivering the manuscripts for The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo, The Girl Who Played with Fire, and The Girl Who Kicked the Hornet's Nest.)

I tape the daily 30-minute program featuring chef Ina Garten on The Food Network, and always print out at least one of her dishes. The lady can cook and she focuses on easy, delicious things to make. Cooking is one of life's more meaningful pleasures it seems to me.

I'm babbling. Goodbye. And check that Spam box!

Mother's Day, 2010

2010-05-09T14:28:00.000-04:00

Claudia Veronica Morvan, nee Rainville
March 31, 1908 - July 11, 1995

She ran the ship, ruled the roost, called the shots, kept us on the straight and narrow, voted the straight Democratic ticket all her life, wept when FDR died, trembled with us when sirens wailed and a black-out was instigated because rumors of German submarine sightings off the New England coast brought fear and loathing.

She was the oldest of nine children and is survived by her sister Bernadette (88) and brother Joe (99). She loved movies, movie stars, the color red and big band music. She loved to write, and she maintained a prolific correspondence with dozens of service men and women during WWII. She was very proud her oldest daughter seemed to possess musical talent, and especially loved the sound of her young voice singing solo hymns during Sunday Mass.

She didn't live to see the Red Sox win the World Series but I feel certain she knew of the miracle which thrilled all long-suffering fans of the beloved team.

My father loved her and affectionately joked that "She can talk the handle off a pump." (We used well water). She didn't like to cook and passed this aversion on to my sister. She wasn't afraid to speak her mind or write her Congressman. And she loved to laugh, thank God, because I came along during the Great Depression, a time when there wasn't much to smile about.

She was very fond of the image above, a photo taken by a local newspaper to accompany her vivid account of the catastrophic 1938 hurricane which ravaged Long Island and southern New England. She said she thought it made her look "intellectual". She was one of the World's Great Moms.

2010-05-09T13:02:00.000-04:00

Sports Illustrated

2010-04-05T20:59:00.000-04:00

Sunday, April 4, 2010: Our cups indeed filled to the brim and more as Buck and I observed all or most of the following sports events yesterday:

Watched Andy Roddick defeat Thomas Berdych 7-5, 6-4 in the Sony Ericsson tennis final played in Miami.

Watched Anthony Kim win the Houston Open Golf Tournament by a whisker, collecting a day's pay totalling $1,044,000.00.

Took a break and prepared a turkey lasagna for dinner. Placed same in refrigerator until time to bake.

Watched a really dumb movie and laughed a lot until we

Watched the Boston Celtics defeat the mighty Cleveland Cavaliers 117-113 at home.

Watched Opening Night Ceremonies and a terrific first of the season game for my favorite guys, The Boston Red Sox. Balmy breezes, filled-to-bursting Fenway Park, and another tight game with the desired result: Red Sox 9, New York Yankees 7.

Tonight the sports drama continues with the final game of the NCAA championships featuring a highly skilled Butler University against the slick Duke University Blue Devils. I used to live in Durham, NC so my heart will be with those young men.

And oh yeah: we will be watching Tiger Woods face an uncertain reception in Augusta.

All this with poor Buck distracted by extreme soreness, result of a double lower front teeth extraction on Saturday morning. Painkillers for him, an unpretentious Cabernet for me. At least Buck didn't have to chew the lasagna which was delicious.

Rooting for so many folks, trying to make Buck as comfortable as possible, attempting to retain various statistics .... My pom-poms are sagging. GO DUKE!

Hello Spring ...

2010-03-01T16:11:00.000-05:00

Fast approaching yet another birthday ... (To the powers that be: No thanks. I've had 73 of these occasionally awkward moments). But my good friend Steve Schwartz at WGBH-FM in Boston will be playing a good chunk of my work on the night. Here is the official announcement:

"Friday, March 5, 8pm

Vocalist Carol Sloane (b. 3/5/1937 in Providence, RI) has been internationally famous since the 1950s. Her new CD is called "We'll Meet Again" Tonight's the night!"

If you'd care to hear the show, go to the station's site and click "Listen Live", top right-hand corner.

OTHER NEWS ITEMS: While on a recent visit to New York City, we were treated to an all-too brief but thrilling opportunity to hear a few tracks from the new, long-anticipated duet recording by Bill Charlap and his exquisite wife Renee Rosnes. This collaboration/conversation will most assuredly be one of your most-played recordings. Look for it on the Blue Note label in the spring.

INCIDENTAL MUSINGS:

My mother's favorite phrase, spoken with true Yankee outrage and directed toward any loud-mouth gasbag, or other thoroughly ego-centric personality, used to be: "Why doesn't he (she) go sit on a tack?"

How many times a day do you find yourself thinking the same thing, while reading the paper or watching an "expert" deliver an over-blown opinion on television. It's less difficult to avoid this sort of nonsense during baseball season, and thank goodness, it's coming to your area and mine very soon.

Because Buck and I grew up before TV was available (listening to Curt Gowdy broadcast play-by-play in the fire-fly lit back yard), you will find us, any summer night, turning our old, amazingly reliable RCA floor model (bought new in 1954 and never seen by a repair man) facing the terrace, audio off, AM radio on. A tall v&t, a cool summer breeze and comfortable lawn chairs complete the scene. Bliss. Can't wait.

"Jersey Jazz" WMA Review

2010-02-03T12:34:00.000-05:00

With Joe Lang's kind permission, SloaneView takes pride in reprinting his review of "We'll Meet Again" which appeared in "Jersey Jazz, Journal of The New Jersey Jazz Society". Many thanks, Joe. Glad you like it!

"Anytime that CAROL SLOANE brings out a new album, it is like a special gift for all those who love good singing. On "We'll Meet Again" (Arbors - 19400), Sloane is joined by Ken Peplowski on clarinet and tenor sax, Howard Alden and Bucky Pizzarelli on guitars, Aaron Weinstein on violin, and Steve LaSpina on base for a 13-song program that provides one delight after another. Sloane makes an art form out of understatement. She is a knowing reader of lyrics who uses her subtle artistry to bring out the full impact of each word.

Sloane is a wonderful ballad singer, but is also masterful at swinging without hitting you over the head. This latter aspect of her style is apparent right out of the box as she opens with "Exactly Like You," with Weinstein and Peplowski doing some nice urging. When I heard her singing "Anytime, Anyday, Anywhere," I immediately thought of Lee Wiley who was a co-writer of the tune, as Wiley had a similar understated style that just drew you in as you listened to her.

"Cottage for Sale" is a great song that tells a sad tale that Sloane relates in an appropriately melancholy manner. Few tunes capture the essence of what a jazzman is better than "Zoot Walks In," Dave Frishberg's lyrics having been added to a jazz classic penned by Zoot Sims and Gerry Mulligan, "The Red Door."

There are several selections that are truly obscure, but after hearing Sloane sing them, you will wonder why they have remained so to this time. Among them are "I Haven't Got Anything Better to Do," "If You Could Love Me," "The Meaning of the Blues," and "I Never Loved Anyone." After playing this disc several times, you simply cannot play it just once, I stood up and said out loud "Hooray for Carol Sloane!"

For The Love Of Ella ...

2010-02-02T13:47:00.000-05:00

On Saturday, Jan. 30th, I shared luncheon at my neighborhood Italian restaurant with an interesting lady named Judith Tick. She is a music historian who specializes in women's history and American music. Previous publications include "Women Making Music. The Western Art Tradition 1150-1950" (University of Illinois Press, 1986) and articles on Charles Ives, one winning a "distinguished scholarship" award in 1993. She has been an Associate Editor for "Musical Quarterly" for the last few years and teaches at Northeastern University in Boston. Her biography of Ruth Crawford Seeger is the first full-scale biography of any American female composer.

Ms. Tick is now embarked on what promises to be the most thorough biography of the universally admired/adored Ella Fitzgerald. Since Oscar Peterson introduced me to Ella, and since I subsequently travelled as part of her entourage during two European tours in the late 1970's, Ms. Tick was curious about my time spent with The First Lady Of Song. We talked for three hours and ate little. I hope that my fond memories of Ella will become part of what promises to be a very important book.

Words I Never Thought I'd Write: I have been listening to a cd titled "The Rumba Foundation" by one JESSE COOK and I am loving it. It's genre is (dare I say it?) SMOOTH JAZZ or NEW AGE!!!!! What? I always thought of SJ as that lousy saxophone sound produced by Kenny G, and NA suggested music played by a long-haired man named Yanni who was once the heart's delight of actress Linda Evans. This Jesse Cook fellow owns and plays a gorgeous guitar, and I'm a sucker for flamenco. On "The Rumba Foundation", melodies are of the slimmest proportions combined with a subtle rumba beat that I find soothing and somewhat mesmerizing. May I hastily say these positive words are in no way to be construed as an unequivocal endorsement. "New Age" music is repetitive and simplisitic in the extreme ... entirely appropriate for a long soak in the tub surrounded by scented candles. Or, if you recall how Ravel's "Bolero" provided background for Bo Derek and Dudley Moore in the film "10" ... This cd might be just the ticket. But I'll save my money for the next Bill Charlap release.

Now, where did I put that bubble bath Aunt Lucy gave me for Christmas?

Happy New Year All ...

2010-01-25T15:18:00.000-05:00

****** A newly renovated office and a bright, young, eager staff will help to provide more frequent news and commentary from SloaneView. Thanks to all for your patience during these past very silent months.

THE HEADLINES: The latest Arbors release called "We'll Meet Again" is in stores. A really mellow release party took place in Boston on Jan. 8 at the delightfully intimate jazz club Scullers. The entire band was on stage with me: Bucky Pizzarelli (who celebrated two significant milestone dates with us: his 84th birthday and his 56th wedding anniversary), Steve LaSpina on bass, Aaron Weinstein, violin, and good pal Ken Peplowski on tenor and clarinet. No piano. No drums. Tons of fun.

January 22nd: Went to hear Bill Charlap, Kenny Washington and Peter Washington at the opening of their two-night engagement at The Regatta Bar in Cambridge. The trio grows more cohesive and precise if that's possible. Much like the inner workings of a Rolex or Patek Philippe, one marvels as the delicate mechanisms smoothly interact, producing highly intelligent, elegant music that always satisfies and delights. Do not ever pass up the chance to see and hear these Jazz Masters should they be near you.

THE NOT GOOD NEWS AT ALL: On January 18th, famed author Robert Parker suffered a fatal heart attack while working at his desk. Bob was a friend who often surprised me by attending a performance of mine. We began corresponding in the 1980's when I was living in North Carolina. One day, a UNC student informed me that my name appeared in a Spenser thriller titled "Ceremony". Sure enough, Chapter 19 begins: "Carol Sloan was just beginning to sing when I regretfully snapped off the radio and climbed out of the MG." Of course, I wrote him immediately, asking that if in future Spenser found himself listening to my voice, could he please spell it correctly with an "e" at the end of Sloan. A spirited correspondence began, and when I moved to Boston in 1986 to marry Mr. Edward "Buck" Spurr, Bob and his wife Joan were among our wedding guests. A sizeable chunk of Boston is featureless without him.

****** After the usual bustle and good cheer we enjoyed during the Christmas holidays, I am heading to Macy's for the January sales, mourning the elimination of the New England Patriots in their quest for another Super Bowl title, I am counting the hours to the start of Red Sox spring training, keeping an eye on the Boston Celtics and NHL Boston Bruins, and looking forward to a spectacular New Year. I've finished reading "The Girl Who Played With Fire", the second of the Millenium Trilogy beginning with "The Girl With The Dragon Tatoo". The Swedish author, Stieg Larsson, is new to me and I am enjoying his characters and plots enormously. Eagerly look forward to reading "The Girl Who Kicked The Hornet's Nest". The bad news here is that Mr. Larsson passed away in 2004. Also have "Stormy Weather, The Life Of Lena Horne" by Jim Gavin, Elizabeth Gilbert's "Eat, Pray, Love" and Michael Connelly's "9 Dragons" lined up on the bedside table.

I have vowed to become a better wife, a better cook and a much better singer in 2010, with Progress Reports submitted sporadically (probably). Onward and upward!

Fall Update

2009-12-02T14:20:00.000-05:00

****** The trip to Sarasota was great fun in every way. My nieces are beautiful and thriving both in school and socially. My sister loved every sunshiny/humid hour and even I have to admit, the balmy weather was a sharp contrast to our own rather typical, rather drab late fall days of cloudy skies and chilly temperatures. Still, I can't imagine cooking a hearty beef stew in 80-degree weather.

****** My youngest (7&9) step-grandsons visited over Thanksgiving and insisted I join FaceBook. Soooooo, there I am and quite happy to connect with some old and dear friends, some presumed lost but never forgotten. Incidentally, the dinner was a triumph (sorry to boast, but it was) amazingly delicious. The tree is going up this week.

COMING EVENTS: January 8, 2010 there will be a CD release party at Sculler's Jazz Club in Boston for my new Arbors recording called "We'll Meet Again". I will be joined by legendary musicians Bucky Pizzarelli, Ken Peplowski, Steve LaSpina, and the rising young jazz violinist Aaron Weinstein. Scullers I hope to see many friends on that night. We will also be celebrating Bucky's 84th birthday, so be sure to join us for the party.

Mid-October Surprises All Around

2009-10-19T14:56:00.000-04:00

******
While a doozy of a nor'easter pounded the already fragile Massachusetts shore line yesterday, the fabulous New England Patriots were frolicking in the snow, ice and wind at Gillette Stadium in Foxborough, making mischief (and football history) while dancing on the heads of the hapless Tennessee Titans. The final score was a totally unbalanced 59-0. As we watched the show from the comfort of our easy chairs, the snow flakes falling outside my living-room window were the size of salad plates. Wild weather for mid-October.

In this terrific Jim Davis photo which ran in today's Boston Globe, you can see our beloved coach grinning from ear to ear, and you have to take my word for it that for him, this is a jack-o-lantern wide smile.

******
Until such time as it becomes available in stores, please visit the Arbors site here to purchase "We'll Meet Again". And many thanks.

Wait 'til next year ....

2009-10-13T18:54:00.000-04:00

****** We experienced the loss of the American League Championship Title over the weekend when the Boston Red Sox were defeated by the Los Angeles Angels in the third game of the series played at Fenway Park, a game we woulda-should-a won but for a number of bad pitches thrown by the perhaps overly-confident Ace Closer Jonathan Papelbon. (Granted, he wasn't the only problem). But now, like millions of other Boston fans, I shall root for those who beat us because they MUST prevail over the NY Yankees, the team I've loved to hate for all of my seventy-odd (you can say that again) years following Red Sox baseball.

My mother and father were ardent Sox fans, and most certainly, they could have predicted the choking and near paralysis which overcame the team in the final games of this 2009 season. The saddest fact for me is that Frank and Claudia didn't live to see our fabulous 2004 World Series victory. Why, my mother might even have shared a cold 'Gansett lager with her husband in wild celebration. I haven't fully embraced the concept of an after-life, but one can only hope that they were rejoicing in some other dimension. Millions shared that happy thought.

****** I am happy to report that Arbors has confirmed an official release date for my new cd called "We'll Meet Again" for January 12, 2010. Meantime, it is available for purchase at the Arbors web address. See the repeat October 6 post below for additonal information.

****** My sister Lois and I are off to Sarasota at the end of the month to visit my darling niece, her husband and their adorable daughters. I am on a particular expedition this year to locate and purchase a fine specimen of a wentletrap (pictured here):

Since we won't have time to drive to Sanibel Island, I will search for my ribbed spiral treasure in shops devoted exclusively to the beauty of sea shells. Choncology is the branch of zoology that deals with the study of mollusks and shells. I have become more interested in the science in recent months, and owe it all to a dear friend who taught me what to look for and how to clean the ones I chose from the beaches along the North Carolina coast. Her collection is truly most impressive, and I defy anyone to hold a magnificient sea shell and not be enchanted and dazzled.

****** SINGER ALERT: My good friend and exceptionally fine singer Carol Fredette is appearing tomorrow night at The Iridium in New York City. Go there and have a great time listening to one of our best.

"We'll Meet Again" Repeat Post

2009-10-06T16:04:00.000-04:00

****
We've been frozen in time, more or less. The reasons for the long silence are varied and many and waaaaaay too complicated to bore you with. I trust SloaneView will demonstrate a more consistent presence from here on.

In the meantime, the new cd titled "We'll Meet Again" on the Arbors Label is available at the site, but not yet at Amazon.

The choice of the title song is a deliberate and heartfelt tribute to Dame Vera Lynn whose WWII recording is not only cherished, but will continue to be heard as long as governments of all nations sacrifice their young men and women in the deserts and mountains of this world. With the recent news of the relatively robust health of Dame Vera at age 92, and the even more extraordinary revelation that her 1939 version of "We'll Meet Again" achieved Number One status on the UK charts of most-played recordings, I have some legitimate concern the BBC or any other radio facility over there will give my WMA so much as half a listen. One can only hope it will be accepted for what it is.

The musicians on WMA are top-drawer and it was a genuine pleasure to share those moments in the Nola Studios in New York City May 6 and 7, and June 4, 2009. They are Bucky Pizzarelli and Howard Alden on guitars, Steve LaSpina bass, Ken Peplowski tenor and clarinet and the gifted young jazz violinist Aaron Weinstein contributes just the right touches. And here is the song list:

1. Exactly Like You
2. Something To Remember You By
3. Anytime, Anyday, Anywhere
4. I Haven't Got Anything Better To Do
5. If You Could Love Me
6. Why Don't You Do Right?
7. The Meaning Of The Blues
8. Zoot Walks In
9. Where Are You?
10. Spring Will Be A Little Late This Year
11. A Cottage For Sale
12. I Never Loved Anyone
13. We'll Meet Again

There is a distinctly upbeat atmosphere at the Nola Studios because Jimmy Czak, Chief In Charge Of All Things Technical, is the master of his domain, and will not permit tension or attitude or any other nonsense to distract from the project at hand. He even agreed to let me stand in the middle of the room, not confined to the vertical sound-booth many prefer but which I hate.

Marc Myers, whose consistently informative and interesting web site is a "must-read" in this house, has written detailed notes for WMA. His enthusiasm for jazz, jazz musicians and jazz singers, is infectious and takes the form of extensive interviews with those bearing famous names and some not quite so well-known but who have devoted their life's energies to jazz. Marc also keeps us aware of new recordings and re-issues. Great site.

The cover photograph is a work of genius. Eric Stephen Jacobs (who has produced several outstanding covers for me) has, to say the least, "done it again". I am not nearly as glamorous as his lens always manages to make me look, but because we have worked so often in the past, I am able to relax during the shoot which eventually means we have diverse quantity and quality. Eric's brilliant talent and a Vitamin D each day ... magic.

I will be happy to hear from anyone who wishes to comment or ask for additional information about "We'll Meet Again". I have been forced to install a protective shield which will allow me to read submissions before they are published. I'm sorry about all this, but some offensive posts were previously available until I deleted them.

I am really happy to have added "We'll Meet Again" to my discography, and I hope it will please most of the people most of the time.

Sure-Fire, Almost-Instant Sleep Inducers

2009-10-01T15:30:00.000-04:00

****** On occasion, like many of you, I have trouble falling asleep. I used to force my mind to clear itself of stressful debris, envisioning a blissfully comfortable lounge chair in which I loll luxuriously. It's a tropical paradise with no one around except the unobtrusive staff who respond in an instant to my subtle request (a languid wave of the hand), and bring me whatever I desire. You're right: this fantasy soon becomes boring, achieving the desired effect: me, deep in slumber.

****** The dream, however, works especially well during the dull, long, gray days of winter here in New England, a time when we immerse ourselves in the carefree pleasure of monitoring and measuring falling snow and/or sleet, playfully shovelling the stuff, driving through blinding blizzard conditions, all the while maintaining a cheerful demeanor and light-hearted good will toward our fellow man.

****** Lately, the most effective method I use to fall asleep very quickly is the fantasy that I am Her Majesty, the Queen of England. Talk about unobtrusive staff, performing all sorts of tasks merely because I raise an eyebrow or wiggle a Royal digit. I am and have been a devoted fan of the Monarchy since I sat rivetted beside my radio at an ungodly early hour, listening to the voice of the BBC commentator describing the November 20, 1947, Westminster Abbey wedding of Her Royal Highness The Princess Elizabeth to Lieutenant Philip Mountbatten. I was ten years old.

****** Sorry about the size of the photograph. I haven't a clue how to enlarge it.

****** Her Majesty was photographed hundreds of times while on a Walk-About commemorating her 80th birthday. She chose to wear bright, cherry red, a brilliant idea. She's radiant.

******

****** Without the use of OTC or prescription drugs, I find it amazingly easy to fall into the gentle embrace of Morpheus, usually just as I'm about to see to the Corgis or confer a royal decoration for outstanding service to Queen and Country.

****** It occurs to me that simply reading this post has quite possibly caused you to glide into a light doze. Have a nice nap.

Submitting A Comment

2009-09-29T18:19:00.000-04:00

****** For those who are somewhat confused about how to submit a comment, simply click "Comments" button beside the date and time at the end of my post. That will take you to a blank form.

Come Fly With Me ...

2009-07-25T16:30:00.000-04:00

****** In 1950 or thereabouts, when television sets were expensive and the equivalent of any of today's technological marvels, my uncle George owned one of the most fascinating items I'd ever seen: a rather large box sat on a table top. Graced with the design logo "Motorola", we gathered around the 10" screen to watch a grainy black and white transmission live from Boston! How exciting it was and how we marvelled as we gazed transfixed, viewing a program which I distinctly remember was sponsored by Chesterfield cigarettes.

****** I am thinking of that time before jet planes and iPods, before cell phones and computers such as this one I can't live without. I have been keenly interested in the live stream of activities onboard the space shuttle Endeavor and you can join the fun by going to this site. I have watched the astronauts inside the lab of some section of the orbiting vehicle, I have watched two men in space suits and awkward-looking gloves gingerly remove and replace large objects containing essential operating devices. I have seen the earth from an altitude of over 200 miles as the Shuttle glides ever so gracefully and swiftly across our planet. This is too too astonishing, and we seem to take it all for granted. There are 13 people whizzing around the earth at this moment, gathering data, running experiments, and performing all sorts of scientific tests. You really must share in this. Go to the site as soon as you are able. I think you will be mesmorized too.

Sister's 70th Birthday

2009-06-01T16:38:00.000-04:00

****** My sister Lois was completely astonished and for once, made speechless, if only for a brief 30 seconds or less. About eighty of her best friends and many surviving aunts and uncles, nieces and one nephew howled "Surprise!" and later sang "Happy Birthday" before she began to slice into a huge chocolate cake adorned with two candles shaped into a "3" and a "9".

****** We enjoyed a lovely family visit with everyone, especially the two ladies in their 90's, both chipper, bright and delightful. Tell me it's in the genes, please.

****** I'm off to New York this week to participate in the final mix of the cd and to challenge my favorite photographer Eric Stephen Jacobs to produce a cover shot we'll all sigh over. Dinner with Marc Myers which will be both business and pleasure since he has agreed to write the liner notes for the new work, and reasons for choosing the songs will be topics between courses. Projecting late summer, early September release date.

Two Bombs = Tart

2009-05-19T15:47:00.000-04:00

***** It's heartbreaking for Boston sports' fans: The Celtics, the NBA defending champions failed in their last "must win" situation against the Orlando Magic, and the Bruins (a team so much improved over a recent long history of inconsistencies in spite of heroic attempts) also flamed out, defeated by the Carolina Hurricanes, of all people. A hockey team in North Carolina. A half inch of ice on the roads down there closes schools and causes near panic amongst the citizenry. But they seem to have acquired much valuable knowledge about the slick surface since I lived in the area some twenty years ago. New Englanders are so deflated and the Spurrs certainly share in the disppointment. I baked a French Apple Tart* to cheer us up.

* I used Ina Garten's fabulous and easy receipe. And since the weather forecasters are telling us the temperature in Greater Downtown Stoneham will reach 90+ degrees on Thursday, I will refrain from baking until conditions return to more normal spring-like 70's.

News of the projected release date for the new CD on Arbors will be published here in the coming weeks. Legendary Bucky Pizzarelli plays guitar, Steve LaSpina's the bass player, and Ken Peplowski played his tenor and clarinet. Swingin' stuff.

Now to tend to my mini-deck garden.

My Bad ...

2009-05-13T13:50:00.000-04:00

****** I hasten to add the name of Aaron Weinstein, the gifted, young violinist who played beautifully on the new cd last week. I apologize to Aaron for omitting his name in yesterday's post. It was a pleasure to have him join us.

Celtics played a terrific second half last night and triumphed over the Orlando Magic 92-88. The Boston Bruins NHL team took their second game in a row from the Carolina Hurricanes 4-2, and the Boston Red Sox defeated the LA Angels in Anaheim by a score of 4-3. Boston is THE center of the sports universe these days.

Talk to you later.

A Very Busy Week In New York ...

2009-05-12T21:20:00.000-04:00

****** After all the stress and anxiety associated with the preparation for last week's work in New York, it is extremely satisfying to unpack and relax. It's especially pleasant to reflect on the superb musicianship and professionalism of all the people involved. The new cd for ARBORS RECORDS was recorded on May 6 & 7th and I'm eager to hear it. Let me explain that last remark: The truth is that the best thing to do with newly recorded material is let it rest for at least a week to ten days. If I listen to yesterday's work today, I guarantee I will detect significant flaws and hundreds of reasons to beg to do it all over again. I will listen to the two sessions over the weekend. I think the songs are good choices, and I KNOW the over-all feeling is light swing, much in the tradition of the great Lee Wiley. Musicians are Bucky Pizzarelli, Steve LaSpina (b), and Ken Peplowski.

It was exciting to be in the city that never sleeps, where I lived for over fifteen years. We enjoyed dinner at Patsy's, Frank Sinatra's favorite Italian restaurant where the staff is always cheerful and upbeat, and the food is the very best. We were given a sneak preview of some unpublished photos of Frank Sinatra taken by Bobby Banks in February, 1977. The photos will be on display at Patsy's from May 7th – May 21th. I also spotted famous author Philip Roth dining with a beautiful lady, and couldn't resist telling him (ever so briefly, of course) how much I admire his work.

May 8, 9 and 10 were spent at The Iridium Jazz Club with Ken Peplowski, Leader on clarinet and tenor, Warren Vache, trumpet; Ted Rosenthal, piano; Pat O'Leary, bass and Chuck Redd drums. The program's theme featured music associated with Benny Goodman in this, the Centennial of his birth. Very swinging stuff, of course, and I was proud to follow in the tradition of some of Benny's outstanding vocalists like Peggy Lee, Helen Ward, and Martha Tilton.

Will return to New York in two weeks for final editing of the recorded material and a photo shoot for the cover. Meantime, I've been asked to host a summer mini-film festival in a Rhode Island coastal community which will feature my all-time favorite black and white movies of the 1930's and 1940's. Details will follow.

I will now move to the other room to watch the second half of a crucial NBA confrontation which at the half stands Boston Celtics 37, Orlando Magic 45, with the series tied 2-2.

Here I Go Again ...

2009-04-28T14:25:00.000-04:00

****** The Editor-In-Chief wishes to apologize to all faithful SloaneView readers:

Preparations for next week's activities in New York City have consumed us, and we still don't have firm song selections for the cd. Well, there are fourteen on the list, but one or two reside in the "Iffy" column. This situation is causing restless sleep and frightening Performance Anxiety Dreams. These nocturnal intruders involve clubs or concert halls filled to capacity, audience eagerly anticipating my impending arrival on stage in five minutes, although I am pacing the floor, have yet to apply makup and can't find my music. Last night, Frank Sinatra popped into my dressing room, beaming and bright, announcing he'd made the trip from beyond just to hear me for the first time, a treat he'd denied himself when he walked among us and for which he was profoundly contrite.

This sort of disturbing, even slightly poisonous atmosphere pervades and grows more noxious each day as the actual performance date approaches. I can see next Wednesday through Sunday looming darkly, a great chasm of uncertainty. Streisand's legendary stage fright is a mere chilly breeze compared to the Category 5 tornado I am subjected to. Some of my closest friends have been long aware of this stifling stranglehold which fluctuates in intensity but has accompanied me every step of the way during my fifty-plus years of singing. (I once began to hyper-ventilate while singing in Carnegie Hall. Those moments were admittedly a lot of unexpected fun, but I've been doing my utmost ever since to prevent a similar barrel of laughs.)

I know many singers and musicians who simply can't wait to walk into the spotlight. I, however, realize full well that when the M.C. begins his introductory remarks about Carol Sloane, my knees will become liquid poles upon which my substantial frame teeters, heart-rate will accelerate to dangerous levels, hands will become icy claws shaking with fear as they grasp a microphone which waves about like a horrid black snake. (Are you getting the picture?)

With some obvious (but not much) exaggeration, I have attempted to describe the tortures I KNOW will be all mine to savour next week. Is it any wonder my first request leaving the stage is that somebody will PLEASE hand me a flute filled with a bit of the Dom . (Okay: Veuve Clicquot will do).

The Schedule:
Record new cd for Arbors: May 6 & 7, New York City
Sing a few songs with Ken Peplowski and Warren Vache at
The Iridium Jazz Club, NYC (scroll below to particulars)
May 8, 9, 10
*********************************************************************

The Daily Reminder

2009-04-13T20:40:00.001-04:00

CAROL SLOANE
Joins An All-Star Jazz Line-up At

The Iridium
1650 Broadway at 51st Street
New York City

212.582.2121 - May 8, 9, 10

Shows: 8:30 & 10:30 PM
$35.00

A BENNY GOODMAN CENTENNIAL

Featuring: Ken Peplowski, Warren Vache, Ted Rosenthal, Chuck Redd and Pat O'Leary

Where do I change? ....

2009-04-11T13:41:00.000-04:00

****** In anticipation of the three-night engagement at The Iridium (see below), I emailed my girl-friend/marvelous singer Carol Fredette for some advice. Carol enjoyed a successful run at the club recently, so I knew she could give me some tips on what to expect, most specifically the location of and amenities provided in the dressing room. The mere fact that some sort of space actually exists is always a comfort since it indicates the club managers understand the rudimentary fact that FEMALE ARTISTS NEED A PRIVATE PLACE TO GET DRESSED!!!! *

The gladest of tidings? Carol has a new cd on the SOUNDBRUSH LABEL entitled "EVERYTHING IN TIME", and she's chosen a terrific group of songs sung to perfection. Visit this site and listen to some samples of her work. Brava, Freeeeeeeee!

* The absolutely best example of laughable dressing room facilities: None, Zero, Nada ... A small and very popular club in Ohio which was really a neighborhood bar that enjoyed cult status and attracted a devoted jazz crowd ... stage lighting consisted of a 75-watt bulb hanging on a single cord from the center of the ceiling, dangling over an old piece of furniture disguised as an upright, tinny piano Fats Waller would have instantly recognized, and a unisex, closet-size toilet immediately stage right, with a flushing mechanism as subtle as Niagara Falls. I haven't been on any gig since that comes close to this disaster, or one that was so much fun in spite of it all. The poor piano player had to give it up, so my pal Cal Collins stepped in and saved me'bacon, eliminating the sour note problems in a flush ... FLASH!

Engagement News:
CAROL SLOANE
Joins An All-Star Jazz Line-up At

The Iridium
1650 Broadway at 51st Street
New York City

212.582.2121 - May 8, 9, 10

Shows: 8:30 & 10:30 PM
$35.00

A BENNY GOODMAN CENTENNIAL

Featuring: Ken Peplowski, Warren Vache, Ted Rosenthal, Chuck Redd and Pat O'Lear

I would never mislead you ...

2009-04-10T15:13:00.000-04:00

In the interest of full disclosure, I must write that the Iridium gig listed below will be led by supreme reed player and old friend Ken Peplowski who graciously asked me to sing a few tunes in each of the two sets the band will perform nightly in tribute to Benny Goodman. I sang with one of Benny's small but flawless groups in the mid-1960's, which may be one of the reasons Ken asked me to participate. Luckily for the audience, I have not also been asked to repeat any of my own personal interactions with BG although I think they are all pretty hilarious. Well, there are tons of "Benny stories", a good many of which have been published by jazz historian and ambulatory encyclopedia Bill Crow in his must-have volumes "Jazz Anecdotes" and "From Birdland to Broadway".

******************************************
CAROL SLOANE
Joins An All-Star Jazz Line-up At

The Iridium
1650 Broadway at 51st Street
New York City

212.582.2121 - May 8, 9, 10

Shows: 8:30 & 10:30 PM
$35.00

A BENNY GOODMAN CENTENNIAL

Featuring:

Ken Peplowski
Warren Vache
Ted Rosenthal
Chuck Redd
Pat O'Leary

"On the road again .... "

2009-04-09T12:20:00.000-04:00

****** Even though we have notified all friends in our Data Base, the following announcement will appear at this site each day leading up to May 4. May 5 is a travel day (train to New York), recording a new cd May 6 & 7, followed by May 8, 9 and 10 singing at The Iridium Jazz Club. I hope this news reaches all of you, and perhaps you'll be able to drop by.

CAROL SLOANE
Joins an All-Star Jazz Line-UP

at

The Iridium
1650 Broadway at 51st Street
New York City

212.582.2121

May 8, 9 & 10

Shows: 8:30 & 10:30 PM
$35.00

A BENNY GOODMAN CENTENNIAL

Featuring:

Ken Peplowski
Warren Vache
Ted Rosenthal
Chuck Redd
Pat O'Leary

Show Times: 8:30 and 10:30 PM
$35.00

Remembering Carmen ...

2009-04-08T11:50:00.000-04:00

This photograph was taken backstage some years ago at Symphony Hall in Boston. I was honored to introduce Carmen so I became somewhat heavy-handed with the make-up, while she gave the capacity audience a flawless demonstration of what it means to be a jazz singer.

My first encounter with Carmen is related in this story which has been published previously. Carmen was born on this date, and an additional story of a previous birthday Ernestine Anderson and I shared with her is this one:

Carmen's Birthday
The following true story is just one of many precious memories of her I will forever hold dear.

Kyoto, April 8, 1983 ...

The Japanese promoters labelled the tour "The Three Pearls": Chris Connor, Ernestine Anderson and me. We appeared in concerts and also performed singly in clubs. On this date, Ernestine and I had the night off while Chris pulled the duty with Norman Simmons playing for her.

Our hotel rooms were adjacent, and each provided mini-bars among other amenities. As girl friends will do, we sat in E's room, talking and laughing and sipping Japanese Sake. When we depleted that beverage, we repaired next door to my room for a fresh supply.

I suddenly realized April 8 was Carmen's birthday. "Let's call her up and sing "Happy Birthday", says I, terribly pleased with myself for coming up with such a thoughtful gesture. "I happen to know she's in D.C., and I know the hotel where she likes to stay. AND it's perfect timing: she'll just be getting ready for the gig.

The phone in her room rang three or four times, and then a typically abrupt "Yeah?" came through. Ernestine and I burst into a lusty version of Happy Birthday and waited to hear her laugh. Silence. Long silence. And then a low growl which escalated into a perfect screech: "Do You Bitches Know WHAT TIME IT IS???"

When Norman Simmons returned to the hotel, I told him what had taken place. He offered this profound advice: "There are three things one should never do: Never spit into the wind, never step on Superman's cape, and NEVER call Carmen McRae at 6 o'clock in the morning!"

The next day I had a headache, I paid a very expensive telephone bill, and I bought a clock that displays the world's time zones.

Remebering dear Carmen on this day.

Post Post-Time

2009-04-07T12:56:00.000-04:00

****** I anticipated a weekend of fun and frolic with my sister, initially spending a chunk of time locating the non-smoking area at the Twin River Casino, then settling in and studying handicapping information my husband had kindly provided. On Friday, I concentrated on the horse races simulcast from beautiful Gulf Stream Park in Florida.

I cashed modest tickets in the third and fifth races, and made my final bet on the 8th, a $3 trifecta box which cost me $18. The horses complied with my selections: I held the winning ticket. I sent my neophyte sister to collect. She told me the cashier gazed at the winning combination with some surprise, then asked if Lois would accept large bills. Lois said "Sure", not knowing what the payoff would be, and then placed $730.00 in my eager hands. Nice work if you can get it, and it was pure, dumb luck, believe me. Not one of the three winning horses was considered favorably by my husband. He, on the other hand, played the races through his computer account, in the comfort of the seat appropriately called "The Captain's Chair".

We are now preparing for the annual serious fun of handicapping the Kentucky Derby (May 2nd). We will bet the races via computer while sipping a mint julep or two. Ain't technology grand?

Blue Note Tour

2009-04-02T11:55:00.000-04:00

THE BLUE NOTE 7 CELEBRATES 70 YEARS OF BLUE NOTE RECORDS

ALL-STAR SEPTET FEATURES MUSICAL DIRECTOR BILL CHARLAP WITH NICHOLAS PAYTON, RAVI COLTRANE, STEVE WILSON, PETER BERNSTEIN, PETER WASHINGTON AND LEWIS NASH

The Blue Note 7 tour, which began on January 7 in Yakima, Washington, continues with concerts at universities and concert halls in 50 cities across North America. Last evening, the band played in historic Mechanics Hall in Worcester, MA. The tour will culminate in a six-night run in mid-April at Birdland in New York. European dates will also be announced for Fall 2009.

We attended a spirited 3PM business meeting in Worcester, MA (an hour's drive from our home), followed by cocktails and dinner at Sole Proprietor, a popular sea food restaurant. Next stop: Mechanics Hall where we joined hundreds of other jazz fans to listen to The Blue Note 7. Absolutely marvelous in every respect, these outstanding musicians performed works by McCoy Tyner, Wayne Shorter, Herbie Hancock and others. Since the band has been touring for several weeks, this is a spot-on, tight ensemble featuring powerful, indeed thrilling solos, each accorded the enthusiastic approval of the thoroughly delighted audience.

If you live in one of the remaining cities to welcome The Tour, please do not deprive yourself of the opportunity to hear this exceptional group.

******

Tomorrow I am off to visit my sister in Rhode Island. We will be spending the next three days doing all the things sisters love to do, including singing together. Lois's voice is strong and true, and she has an uncanny memory for lyrics, singers and songs. I'll be probing her enormous source material. We also intend to go the dogs, literally. I am not a fan of greyhound racing myself, but there is a Rhode Island track which offers thoroughbred horse race simulcasts originating at Florida's Gulf Stream Park and other venues. So we will have lunch and place a few bets. We are sure to win because My Husband The Handicapper is supplying us with his own expert advice and counsel.

A Favorite Blossom Dearie ...

2009-02-26T20:03:00.001-05:00

****** Blossom Dearie died on Saturday, February 7 this year in her Greenwich Village apartment. This video is a perfect example of Blossom's understated delivery, and what I like best is the tempo. Typically, she conveys a parfait lightness as well undeniable swing and charm.

I believe this video quickly made the YouTube circuit immediately after the announcement of her passing, but I'd like to share it with those of you who may have missed seeing it, to remind us all of how unique and wonderful she was.

I confess I'm also attempting for the first time to successfully embed a video in my post. Other Bloggers I admire practice this technology with flawless frequency. I knew I had to find out how to do it. Hope this works. I'm learning as I go, which is probably painfully obvious. In any case, for those who loved Blossom as much as I did, here's a treat just for you.

The Mail Bag, Etc.

2009-02-22T12:58:00.001-05:00

***** I am always pleased to hear from anyone who wishes to add a comment to one of my posts. If you wish to contact me directly, please visit my web site where you will find a "Contact" button. I received a perfectly lovely bit of mail from a Dublin correspondent to which I replied immediately.

The reason I'm bringing all this up today is that I haven't received return mail from this charming man, and I'm wondering if he may have a Spam Filter in place. This reliable barrier to unwanted/unsolicited material is highly effective, but if one doesn't periodically comb through the good and bad mail, Ms. Sloane may give the highly inaccurate impression that she deliberately ignored the initial correspondence. It is my habit to type "Reply from Carol Sloane" in the subject line to more easily identify it as friendly and decidedly harmless. I welcome any dialogue about my work and questions you may have, and I'm grateful that you take the trouble to write. So, check that Filter!

*****

Week started with a bit of a jolt: I felt some pressure in my chest which persisted for 48 hours even when bombarded with just about every available OTC med. The thorough and reliable WebMd informed me that women seem especially prone to ignore such symptoms, dismissing them as severe and persistent indigestion. Not a good interpretation. So, to come down on the side of caution, I decided to get a proper diagnosis.

Buck jumped out of his deep sleep when, at 3AM, I quietly whispered in his ear: "Why don't we take a little ride to the ER at Melrose-Wakefield Hospital", a mere five miles away. Of course, they kept me overnight for observation, and I underwent a stress test and two sets of image exams. As a result, two new pills are added to my daily intake, and after these few short days on the regimen, I am pain free and feeling top hole. (I've been reading Lord Peter Wimsey stories, forgive me).

*****

Apart from the hospital stay, my brain continues to churn away, spinning song titles and dancing through melodies in anticipation of a new recording project for the Arbors Label. I'd like to be in the studio before year's end. Wish me luck.

Cheers, until next time!

??????

2009-02-11T22:14:00.000-05:00

****** I have no idea what could be wrong, but I am unable to type a title for this post. When I attempt to, here is what pops up: ;ोस्सोम, and that doesn't translate here. It's an ampersand/number sign followed by a series of four numbers. How strange. Leaving a message at Google hasn't brought a single word of help or advice. I'm not even certain this message will publish. But, fingers crossed, here goes:

****** Today's Title was to have been R.I.P.Blossom Dearie. She was a one-of-a-kind personality singer/pianist who was an acquaintance but not a close friend, and she died in her Greenwich Village, New York home on Saturday, February 7th. She was 82 years old. Hers was a voice of exquisite delicacy along with a gentle, confident sense of swing. There are dozens of Blossom Dearie YouTube videos you can take a look at. One of my favorites is her version of "The Surrey With The Fringe On Top" taken at a civilized tempo performed on The Tonight Show hosted by Jack Paar. I suggest you see and hear Blossom for yourself. Enjoy.

******

Mail this week has brought a delightful surprise message from an old friend I've not seen or heard from in ages who tells me he has been living in Costa Rica for eight years and loves every second of it. I can't wait to learn more about the country and his life-style in the tropical paradise. I also received a post from Max Bennett, the bass player on "Kinda Groovy" which is mentioned in "That Was The Week That Was" below, dated 2/2/2009. I hope some of you have visited the url which I included so that you can hear Jimmy Rowles singing "A Porter's Love Song To A Chambermaid". Otherwise, this has been an exceptionally quiet week, keeping tabs on the discussions and maneuverings of D.C. politicians debating the Stimulus Package, finishing my P.D. James book, and last night and Monday night, watching the delightful parade of canines otherwise known as The Annual Westminster Kennel Club Dog Show which takes place in February each year at Madison Square Garden in NYC. A thoroughly charming Sussex spaniel named Stump captured Best In Show. Quite an achievement for this animal: he came out of retirement to compete, and is 70-years old by human standards. We were especially thrilled about the win since he was our choice too. I know his image closed out many a news broadcast today.

But February's dog show is the highlight of this lengthy, chilly winter season. Football games are no more, the Australian Open's complete, the Red Sox are just starting their spring training sessions in Florida, The Masters Golf Tournament starts in a month, leaving sports viewing in this house focused on the Boston Celtics (Buck and I are not hockey fans) who are managing to defend their Championship status. We are very fond of the team and its coach.

****** Speaking of sports, several wonderful men in my life introduced me to their favorite sport and I in turn became a fan: my Dad (and Mother too, it must be said) gave me baseball; Bob Brookmeyer gave me football; Jimmy Rowles gave me tennis; my husband gave me basketball. The excitement of a basketball game hadn't penetrated my senses even when I lived in North Carolina. I was singing in a beautiful club in Chapel Hill one night when a slight commotion occured at the entrance and right in the middle of me singing a most heartfelt ballad. When I later asked who'd caused the ruckus, they said: "James Worthy came in." "Who's James Worthy?" said I to the incredulous people around me. Hero of the day, star of the team. James Worthy

****** There is a book with the intriguing title "Lark & Termite" by Jayne Anne Phillips, Knopf, sitting on my bedside table, begging me to plunge into its unknown depths, so I will finish for this evening. My hope that my Blog problem can be addressed successfully within the next forty-eight. By the way: What are you currently reading?

To Listen Or Not To Listen ...

2009-02-05T16:31:00.000-05:00

The morning routine never varies: comb hair, shower, brush teeth, kiss husband, pour coffee, read the newspaper, begin sorting the day's demands.

Recently, we experienced a computer melt-down which necessitated a somewhat frantic search for a capable tech whiz. We found Stuart Young working out of his house not more than 2 miles from our home. He diagnosed the situation, walked out with my tower, promising to return as soon as he'd repaired the device. He replaced the hard drive and restored the PC to our eager hands. I mention this because part of my daily routine involves reading various US newspapers as well as The London Times, the Chicago papers, SF and LA papers, Washington Post, most often reading book reviews and sports pages.

There are other web sites equally or often more intriguing, for example: Rich Wilson is a Massachusetts native who is sailing around the globe solo. His daily reports of this spectacular voyage are so totally fascinating to me that I wrote him a little note (lots of school children are monitoring his progress and express their curiosity via email). I asked (naturally) if he had time to listen to music and if so, what? Opera? Bach? Mozart? Gilbert & Sullivan? Selected Debussy? Rodgers and Hart? Coltrane? He responded to the child he assumed me to be, saying he did have some classical music on board, adding (rather vehemently, I thought) that he "never" listens to jazz. I wish the man good luck but I think a little Ben Webster drifting over a calm sea would be heavenly.

While spending my usual hour or so surfing, I never listen to music. It's impossible, and I believe my reason is sound, literally. Let me preface my defense with this brief true story: A brilliant jazz scholar I know named Gary Shivers hosted a Saturday morning jazz program on the NPR affiliate WUNC-FM in Chapel Hill, NC, c. late 1970's. When we met, I was living in neighboring Raleigh, and our paths crossed almost at the moment he assumed his position as station General Manager. His weekly show (which preceded live Metropolitan Opera broadcasts), quickly became the most popular program of its kind, and more importantly, provided starving jazz fans with a format not readily available in an area saturated with Country/Western music. Thousands boasted that they were Gary's most loyal listeners, keenly interested to hear his informed commentary which preceded each recorded performance.

I once asked him why he never played Bill Evans. He said: "On Saturday mornings the mere idea that a washing machine or vacuum cleaner might be in use prevents me from featuring Bill Evans. He deserves to be heard without distraction." Indeed, there were numerous other musicians of introspective persuasion who never got any air time either.

But I think Gary was right. This is my own dilemma: I could not sit here reading a book review or writing this Blog while any of the music I love hovered around and in my space. I would have to cease my labors to marvel at Carmen McRae's incisive phrasing or that astoundingly brilliant Tommy Flanagan improvisational passage. Mine are the ears Gary always hoped to reach on Saturday morning. Which brings me back to my hard drive woes.

After Mr. Young returned this household to full on-line capability, I hastened to make certain my music library was equally in tact. Yes: all the Basie, Charlap, Ella, Mozart, Ellington, Peterson, Webster, Lester and McRae just quietly awaiting my "Play" directive. But I can no longer write. It's time for some tracks from "The Peacocks" featuring Stan Getz and Jimmy Rowles. Seas are calm, winds are favorable, my jib is secure and today's Blog is complete. Ahoy, Mates!

The Week That Was

2009-02-02T15:46:00.000-05:00

It began with a nasty touch of food poisoning in the early hours of Monday, the 26th, and since this was my first experience with this most unwelcome intrusion, I can say with authority "it ain't fun". However, the rather uncomfortable hours from midnight to 8 AM were made a bit easier because Buck cared enough to forgo his night's sleep tending to my needs. What would I do without him? There is also the astonishing, very reassuring knowledge that a healthy body possesses the means necessary to preserve, protect, defend and eventually dispose of malevolent organisms. Word of advice: do not consume any food which tastes the slightest bit "off".

************

A friend sent along this absolutely wonderful opportunity to hear Jimmy Rowles singing "A Porter's Love Song To A Chambermaid". The cover of the album is a photograph of the Grand Canyon, and although I have no proof he chose it, the title is pure Rowles: "Kinda Groovy". This album is a rare gem, and I will happily exchange an autographed copy of my "Dearest Duke" for a burned copy of this LP. You heard me: an autographed copy of my "Dearest Duke" in exchange for a burned copy of "Kinda Groovy".

Here is the site: . Personnel include a stellar line-up:

Jimmie Rowles, Piano and Voice
Howard Roberts, Guitar
Max Bennett, Bass
Nick Martinis, Drums
Shelly Manne, Drums on 3 cuts
Recorded in Capitol Records' Studio A
Hollywood, California
October 23, 24, and 26, 1962
Dave Cavanaugh, Producer

************
John Updike R.I.P.

Upon learning of his death, I went to my bookshelves to take count of the number of Updikes I own. The count is a rather meager sixteen considering the numbers he wrote, but I can boast that they are all first editions. He often sends me scurrying to the dictionary for clarification of a word or words which even in context are indecipherable. It's the same with the dear Baroness James of Holland Park. I usually write down the little speed bump and check its definition at the end of the chapter.

I watched the Charlie Rose show on Jan. 29th to hear a distinguished panel discuss Updike and his work: Judith Jones, Senior Editor and V.P. at Knopf, David Remnick, Editor of The New Yorker magazine, and Sam Tanenhaus, Editor of The New York Times Book Review. The discussion was intellectually stimulating and enlightening since these three and Charlie Rose enjoyed frequent dialogue with Updike. I am eagerly anticipating the Feb. 9/16 combined issue which I believe will feature a very long poem Updike began when he first received the cancer diagnosis, and continuing through the course of treatment. Updike was somewhat obsessed with his own demise, so it will be interesting to read his impressions and perspective and method of dealing with it all. I am truly sorry he encountered the dreaded moment at the comparatively early age of 76.

Favorite Updikes: "Of The Farm", all the Rabbit books, "The Centaur" and of course, his legendary essay "Hub Fans Bid Kid Adieu"

In 1999, Ted Williams appeared at Fenway Park in Boston for the All-Star Game and was introduced as one of the top 30 players on baseball's All-Century team. Williams, 80 and in perilous health, was driven on the field at Fenway Park in a golf cart before the game, and he stood up long enough to throw out the ceremonial first pitch.

He immediately was surrounded by players from both All-Star teams in an emotional scene near home plate. The game was held up for 14 minutes while the greatest hitter of the past six decades laughed and talked with his admirers, comfortable at last on baseball's center stage. It would prove to be his last baseball-related appearance. And as his golf cart exited the field, he tipped his hat to the crowd several times.

**********************
I received a telephone call from Bill Charlap, one of the other men I love, while he was stopping in LA as part of the 51-city Blue Note Seven North American tour. Here is the itinerary: Bill Charlap Tour . At this writing, the group is on hiatus, set to resume on February 17. If the Blue Note Seven are within 100 miles of your location, make every effort to see them. You can't possibly be disappointed.

**********************

Hibernation in New England, more snow predicted for tomorrow, with the ever-stronger glimmer of light at the end of the tunnel: 9 days, 18 hours to Pitchers and Catchers at Fort Meyers, Florida, start of Red Sox spring training schedule. Hurray!

**********************

For everyone in New York City: My friend Carol Fredette will sing at The Iridium tomorrow night, delighting the audience and promoting her new cd "Everything In Time". Go to hear her and buy her cd. She's marvelous and always has been.

The First Day of the Obama Administration

2009-01-23T13:10:00.000-05:00

We had it timed perfectly: as soon as Chief Justice John Roberts said "Congratulations, Mr. President", we popped the champagne and cried as we toasted the man and the occasion. What a great day for this country and the world. And although the sentiment may have been expressed by others more than once yesterday*, my husband said it best: "Makes you feel proud to be an American again."

*(We watched the day's activities on commercial/commentary-free C-Span, so, except for the principal speeches, we were spared the incessant babble of the experts happily telling us what we could see and hear for ourselves. It was also an amusing game to correctly identify members of Congress or any number of familiar faces. I think we nailed most of them.)

************
Recommended reading: "The Private Patient" by P.D. James, Knopf: The Baroness writes yet another delicious mystery demanding every ounce of the amazing deductive skill of Commander Adam Dalgliesh, plus the genuine fun of discovering a brand-new word here and there. For example, I was curious about "uxorious". Grand word. Sounds like a disfiguring skin disease of some sort, but it means "excessively fond of or submissive to wife". I am not, nor have I ever been, acquainted with any man who might even remotely be described as submissive to his wife.

************

Recommended listening: The new cd from Rebecca Kilgore and Dave Frishberg on the Arbors label: "Why Fight The Feeling", Arbors ARCD 19356, features the music of Frank Loesser. The composer has long been a favorite of Dave's, and in this collection, Rebecca sings the songs to perfection. No fuss, no unnecessary embellishment, dead-on pitch. Hers is a cheery sounding voice and her diction is impeccable. My kind of singer. Dave's jaunty piano style is the perfect compliment for her, and they include a great many verses sinfully ignored by many. Five Stars for this one.

************

Steven Wright is one of my favorite stand-and-pace comics. He creates memorable, terse, and highly amusing material, delivered in a dry, thoughtful, dead-pan expression. Much of his best work can be found at YouTube. Here's a good example of the Wright stuff: "I went to my local 24/7 store but it was closed. When I asked the manager for an explanation, he said: 'We ARE open 24/7. Just not consecutively."

Apropos of that little vignette, I was looking for fresh thyme and rosemary at my local Stop & Spend only to find empty bins. I asked the teen-aged clerk if she'd check in the back for me. She returned and said "No, there's [sic] none, but we always have them sometimes." (I should have asked her if she ever worked part-time at the 24/7 store.)

************

One of my resolutions is to write on a regular basis. At least once a week. Stay tuned.

On a rainy day in Stoneham ...

2008-11-25T15:18:00.001-05:00

The weather outside is frightful, but the books I read are delightful. One title clearly demonstrates the wisdom of the old saying "Never judge a book by its cover". When my husband saw "The Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Pie Society", he proclaimed that any book bearing such a frivolous title would surely bore him to tears. With my famous and somewhat mystical powers of persuasion (no: I did not wield a rolling pin nor did I force him to drink a potion of my own concoction), he grudingly agreed to read the first chapter. I couldn't pry the thing from his grasping hands thereafter. It is truly a lovely story and I cannot recommend it with any greater enthusiasm except to say it will be equally difficult for you to put it aside: the kind of book happily embraced in one sitting.

I do find it comforting to know that in spite of all the consistently dreadful news about the economy, loss of employment and more hardships to come, I believe President-Elect Obama and his thoughtful appointees will work diligently to put things right. Certain we won't be sitting pretty for a while, or even to have made it up the first and second rungs of the ladder, there truly is hope that improvement, however slow to arrive, will indeed occur.

Our Thanksgiving will be spent in Rhode Island with my sister and brother-in-law, my nephew and my niece, her husband and daughters who've arrived from Florida. I can hardly wait to see 15-year old Kelly who has promised to satisfy my curiosity about "Twilight" which she saw just prior to her departure from Sarasota. She'll have read the books too, I'm sure. Then, true to form, our Christmas tree will be decorated over the weekend and I'll begin wrapping gifts. I HAAATE wrapping because I'm so clumsy at it and my packages always look distorted and somewhat lopsided because of my deficiency. Am I the only person in the world who sprouts three extra thumbs on each hand this time of year?

Buck and I wish all of you a safe and happy Thanksgiving.

"The Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Pie Society", A Novel by Mary Ann Shaffer and Annie Barrows, The Dial Press, A Division of Random House

P.S. Please do not be frustrated if you post a comment and then fail to see it. Somehow, that all-thumbs awkwardness applies here as well. I don't intend to delete your words, honestly I don't!

Oh, Happy Day ...

2008-11-09T11:51:00.000-05:00

We popped the first bottle of Veuve Clicquot as President-Elect Barack Obama strode upon the platform in Chicago last night with his beautiful wife and daughters. We cried as so many in the huge throng did, including Oprah Winfrey and Jesse Jackson. And we toasted and drank and wept and danced and cried some more.

Our polling place is the Town Hall which faces the Common and the tall, white spire of the Congregationalist Church, a scene so typically New England. Weather was spring-like, sunny skies, most of the trees still bearing leaves of crimson, amber and gold. We had chosen an ideal arrival time (11:30 AM), and encountered no delays. Found out later that lines began to form at midday and remained thick until the polls closed at 8PM.

I began to fill my ballot from the back, starting with three initiatives Massachusetts voters were asked to decide:

Question 1: The reckless idea to eliminate the state income tax. Defeated.

Question 2: The proposal to decriminalize possession of marijuana. Carried.

Question 3: The proposal to ban dog racing in Massachusetts. Carried.

Then I voted for various candidates for state offices, and finally, indicated my choice for the national Democratic ticket. We spent a total of approximately fifteen minutes completing our civic responsibility otherwise known as this overwhelmingly precious freedom to choose our political leaders. We walked through the Common to our favorite restaurant and enjoyed an Italian lunch while talking of everything BUT the election.

Buck and I always hoped we'd one day be able to vote for and then rejoice in the election of an African-American President. It is truly awe-inspiring to awake this day and find the dream come true. What a great accomplishment for us and all the world.

Although George Bush and his pals will walk away from the miasmic conditions they created, one can only hope and pray that the slender but strong shoulders of Barack Obama will find the strength and wisdom to forge a clearing in the jungle. We believe he will prevail, even triumph.

Eagle Hill School

2008-10-29T15:37:00.000-04:00

Saturday, October 25, 2008:
Parents' Weekend

Eagle Hill School
Hardwick, Massachusetts

My husband and I are associated with this unique learning facility which provides a caring, nurturing environment for its 150 teen-age student body. Eagle Hill School is a private co-educational college preparatory boarding school for students with learning disabilities in grades 8-12. Specific learning differences include: Dyslexia, Language Based Learning Disability, Attention Deficit Disorder, Attention Deficit Hyperactivity Disorder, and Nonverbal Learning Disability. Eagle Hill School also offers a five week academic and recreational summer camp for students ages 10-18 who have been diagnosed with learning disabilities. Eagle Hill School is the preeminent private high school for students with learning disabilities and ADHD who demonstrate average to above average cognitive ability.

Additional information about Eagle Hill can be found here.

Students and faculty are justifiably proud of their glittering, brand new Performing Arts Center which opened with the scintillatingly talented pianist/singer Eric Comstock and Barbara Fasano who performed music from The Great American Songbook for the citizens and civic leaders of Hardwick and adjacent communities. Eric and Barbara were ably supported by the superb bass player Marshall Wood. The evening was a great success, establishing the tone and essence of forthcoming attractions. Visit Eric's web site here.

On Saturday, October 25: The impressive, swinging New Life Jazz Orchestra led by Kendrick Oliver performed a rollicking set to which the audience consisting of parents, faculty and students responded with high-powered enthusiasm. Mr. Oliver invited Nicole Nelson, a powerful singer possessing impeccable blues credentials, to perform several stirring songs with the band and thrilled the audience. Standing ovations.

My husband and I heard about a young student named Jason months ago when we enjoyed our first hard-hat tour of the PAC. Jason is very popular on campus, and although his first love is opera, he is also an avid Frank Sinatra fan. Jason was given the opportunity to sing with the big band and he was admittedly a little nervous about it. But he stood firm and tall, singing "Fly Me To The Moon" with grace and style. Bravo Jason!

I sang three favorite Duke Ellington melodies and enjoyed myself enormously. Two cheerful and efficient young people named Brad and Sarah were close at hand to provide any last minute items I might have needed. Thank you both for being so helpful.

The Official Opening Night Gala on Saturday, November 1st will feature the popular young jazz vocalist Jane Monheit and her band. Anticipation of this event is running high among the students and faculty.

Buck and I want to thank everyone at Eagle Hill School for the opportunity to contribute to this exceptional institution and its new Performing Arts Center. Long may ye reign!

R.I.P. Dave McKenna

2008-10-21T17:10:00.001-04:00

He was one of the most popular jazz piano players of his generation. A low-keyed kind of man who loved to string medleys of songs with the same word in the title, always surprising and delightful to hear his imagination at work.

A small series of Sunday afternoon solo piano concerts were held in a Providence hotel ballroom in the 1980's. Buck and I took My Mother The Jazz Fan (80-years old at the time) to hear Dave. Choice seats, mere inches away from Dave's right hand. She was in heaven. The following Sunday we again attended the series which that afternoon featured a pianist renowned for his flawless technique and remarkable agility. We managed to secure the same seats. I watched my mother's genuine amazement and appreciation of this exceptional musician. On the way home, she casually offered this comment: "I liked [...] very much, but I think Dave McKenna swings more."

Here in Boston, he played regularly in the Oak Bar of the Copley Plaza hotel. It was a sizeable room filled with comfortable furniture strewn about the place in an effort to create a feeling of warmth and coziness. In this endeavor, it succeeded with customary Copley Plaza elegance, patrons settling into the cocktail hour or the night-cap after dinner and the theatre, and mostly focused on their libations and sparkling companions. At times, the gentle hum of conversation seemed to overwhelm the artistry of the pianist on the small stage in the corner. This atmosphere suited Dave perfectly. He knew which patrons had dropped in expressly to hear him, for they were loyalty personified and always made certain they were seated as close to him as possible.

I especially recall with great fondness his habit of placing a tiny Sony transistor radio (remember them?) into his jacket pocket, trailing a thin wire attached to an earplug firmly planted in his left ear. Since his right hand was toward the house, no one ever seemed to notice. But you could get an accurate pitch count if you asked politely and extended him the courtesy of waiting until he'd finished playing the tune.

I met Dave in New York shortly after I arrived there myself in the early 1960's. We found ourselves featured players on various concert stages throughout the years, and I once recorded with him, but only once, at a performance recorded for the Concord Jazz Label. A concert held in the ballroom of the Cape Cod Plaza Hotel on May 3, 1992, featured Dave, Scott Hamilton on tenor, Gray Sargent on guitar, Marshall Wood on bass and Chuck Riggs on drums. The cd is available at Amazon and probably at other outlets. It's "Concord All-Stars on Cape Cod", CCD 4530. I managed to call the wrong key for the song "Time After Time" but of course, that was no problem for Dave. He could play in any key. Unfortunately, I wound up sounding like a cross between Elaine Stritch and Billy Ecksine.

Dave and I didn't see much of each other in these last years since he became rather reclusive living on the Cape. However, I know he faithfully followed every movement of the Boston Red Sox. He held season tickets to games at Fenway Park for many years, and once graciously gave the precious seats to me and my husband because Dave was going to be out of town on game day. Third base line, just slightly off to the left of the visiting dugout. Wish I could remember who the Sox beat that day.

There is an extensive obit in today's Boston Globe which mentions a tribute concert to be held at some future date. Watch this Blog for specifics.

What I did on my summer vacation ...

2008-10-09T14:36:00.000-04:00

****** It's been many weeks since I posted. The summer has been filled with glorious weather, exciting Red Sox games, delightful books to read and new recipes to explore. (A truly easy and fool-proof chocolate cake with a surprise ingredient is included at the end of this note).

****** At times, it did seem utterly unfair that our summer weather was so beautiful when one witnessed the devastation suffered by our neighbors to the south. Help is still needed so maybe you can spare a couple of bucks for The Red Cross.

****** SloaneView has studiously avoided political commentary to date, but the Front Office feels compelled to recommend that you cast your General Election vote for the Democratic ticket. My parents lived through the Great Depression, squarely placing the blame for that catastrophe on the Republican administration of then President Herbert Hoover. My allegiance to the Democratic party was born in those difficult times. Many nights my sister and I were served frugal but nutritious meals while my parents contented themselves with toast and cocoa. We were too young at the time to notice the disparity.

****** It is overwhelming to contemplate the colossal failure of the Bush administration and the perilous position he and his advisors have placed the United States. When Bush was elected, I predicted tough times ahead. Oh, not for the wealthy citizens who helped elect the man because he promised to lower their taxes. That was really the only thing they cared about, and if he decided to place our young men and women in jeopardy by sending them to Middle Eastern hot spots, well, that was okay. After all, we'd be out of that region without too much loss of life, and then democracy would reign, the Iraqi people would embrace us as their true saviors, and the price of oil would plummet.

****** I am heartsick about it all. You may be too, so let's elect Barack Obama and do all we can to help him rectify the wrongs we face. He'll need all the assistance he can get.

Oh yes: here's the great and easy chocolate cake recipe:

CHOCOLATE-MAYONNAISE CAKE
MAKES ONE 8- OR 9-INCH SQUARE CAKE

Baking spray
2 cups all-purpose flour
1 teaspoon baking soda
1/4 teaspoon salt
2/3 cup cocoa powder, preferably Dutch-processed
1 1/3 cups boiling water
1 cup mayonnaise
2 teaspoons vanilla extract
1 1/3 cups sugar
Confectioners' sugar, for dusting (optional)

Set the oven rack in the middle position and heat the oven to 350 degrees. Spray an 8-inch or 9-inch square baking pan with nonstick baking spray and set aside.

In a medium bowl, whisk the flour, baking soda, and salt.

In a large bowl, whisk the cocoa and boiling water until smooth. Allow to cool for 2 minutes.

Add the mayonnaise, vanilla, and sugar and whisk to blend. Add the mayonnaise mixture to the flour mixture and stir to incorporate just until smooth (do not overmix).

With a flexible spatula, scrape the batter into the baking pan, smooth the top, and bake just until a toothpick inserted into the cake comes out clean and the edges of the cake begin to pull away from the pan, about 40 minutes (do not overbake).

Place the cake on a wire rack, cool to room temperature, cut into squares, dust with confectioners' sugar, if desired, and serve.

Downbeat Readers Poll

2008-08-09T12:40:00.000-04:00

****** The deadline for voting in the Annual Downbeat Readers Poll is August 24. If you wish to vote, please click this. Hearty thanks to the Editors for making the ballot especially user-friendly. You may choose names from the drop-down menu or type in your favorite in any given category.

July 31 In New York City

2008-08-03T16:05:00.001-04:00

****** In days of yore, I'd have felt tense, anxious, even genuinely ill before a performance. However, through the miracle of modern chemistry, those demons have been tamed. So it was with confidence and eager anticipation I stepped on the stage of the Kaufmann Concert Hall at the 92nd St. Y in New York City last Thursday (July 31) night. In fact, it felt more like entering heaven just to be on stage with such excellent musicians: Bill Charlap, piano, Frank Wess, tenor saxophone, Terell Stafford, trumpet, Mulgrew Miller, piano, Russell Malone, guitar, Peter Washington, bass and Willie Jones III, drums. The concert was the finale of the series "Jazz In July" directed by Bill Charlap, and paid tribute to Billy Strayhorn.

****** I sang "I Want Something To Live For", "My Little Brown Book", "Day Dream", and joined the ensemble for "Satin Doll" to close the show. I'd like to thank Bill Charlap for inviting me to be a part of the series, and also thank all the musicians for their kind support, not to mention the laughs we all shared in the Green Room. Sometimes it's good to be a jazz singer.

My Little Brown Book

2008-07-16T13:53:00.000-04:00

****** As I prepare to participate in a salute to the memorable composer Billy Strayhorn, I am memorizing the lyric to "My Little Brown Book". Artistic Director Bill Charlap requested I sing MLBB, only to be somewhat startled to learn I've never sung it before. How I've managed to avoid it all these years is truly a mystery. However, on July 31st, I will enjoy the enormous pleasure of singing it with Bill and several other outstanding musicians. Here .

****** In all my years as an active performer, I have never learned to read music. I carry a small, battered volume which contains song titles and the keys in which I sing them. It is my portable library. It is in point of fact a Little Brown Book, but it does not have a silver binding.

****** I was unable to stay awake to view the All-Star Game last night. Frankly, I find the spectacle somewhat boring, and except for the chance to see some retired professionals whose playing days I recall with great fondness, it is a ho-hummer for me. My husband woke me with the news of the marathon it became, but more importantly, the not surprising (to me) news that the American League prevailed. Now let's get back to the real thing please.

The Red Sox and Billy Strayhorn

2008-07-14T16:27:00.000-04:00

****** The past week has been full of interesting meetings and discussions involving a new project. (Note: I am more inclined to enjoy the newly acquired title of Entertainment Consultant over actual performing.)

****** A new and rather spectacular venue is in the process of structural completion, and Buck and I have signed on to provide assistance in the selection of artists who may appear on its new stage. I will happily provide more details as they become available. (Sound like a CNN anchor.)

****** On a personal level, Buck's 75th birthday occurred on Friday, July 11, and a lovely family barbeque party was held at his son's home on the 12th. The arrival of his youngest grandsons (ages 7 and 5) visiting from Westchester County completely surprised him and fulfilled my intended mission: To see my husband surrounded by his entire family: five grandsons, son, daughter and their spouses. Lovely weather, great eats, beautiful birthday cake ... everything I dreamed it would be.

****** Boston Red Sox are back on top in the AL Eastern Division, and as we face the All-Star break, I do think summer is proceeding at much too fast a pace.

****** I am preparing to join an exceptional line-up of jazz luminaries on July 31 in New York (go here) The amazingly brilliant Bill Charlap is Artistic Director of the Jazz In July Festival at the 92nd St. Y, and I am extremely gratified to have been asked to participate in a program devoted to the music of Billy Strayhorn.

****** I hope you will continue to submit your comments. I very much enjoy reading them.

"Songbirds" Tenth Anniversary

2008-06-25T11:53:00.000-04:00

****** With utmost respect and admiration, I'd like to salute the Moderator of an online group of music fans. His name is David Torresen and "Songbirds, The Singers of Classic Pop and Jazz" has been a thriving, exhuberant forum since its inception in June, 1998. Membership now includes over a thousand fans scattered across the planet. Daily mail includes information about familiar singers, and news of fledgling talent worth investigating; new recordings and valuable re-issues are posted, newspaper reviews, commentary, gossip, and the occasional good-natured debate among loyal fans of a singer and those who vehemently disagree.

****** Members are avid collectors, singers, composers, journalists, and musicians, with a healthy representation of some well-known artists. Here is the official description of the site:

Description

****** Songbirds: The Singers of Classic Pop and Jazz. A list primarily devoted to discussion of the legendary female vocalists of "classic pop" and jazz: Ella Fitzgerald, Peggy Lee, Judy Garland, Billie Holiday, Doris Day, Sarah Vaughan, June Christy, Ethel Waters, Mildred Bailey, Rosemary Clooney, Lena Horne, Anita O'Day, Carmen McRae, Chris Connor, Maxine Sullivan, Lee Wiley, Mabel Mercer, Jo Stafford, Dinah Washington, Julie London, Margaret Whiting, Nina Simone, Blossom Dearie, Keely Smith, Annie Ross, many more. Also, plenty of discussion of crooners, songwriters, bandleaders, and contemporary singers keeping this great song tradition alive. The common denominator is singers who interpret the Great American Songbook (to which we refer in shorthand as "GAS") -- Irving Berlin, Cole Porter, George and Ira Gershwin, Jerome Kern, Richard Rodgers, Lorenz Hart, Oscar Hammerstein, Duke Ellington, Harold Arlen, Johnny Mercer, Hoagy Carmichael, Harry Warren, Dorothy Fields, Jule Styne, many more.

****** Non-members can view the Home page at Songbirds; but are required to apply to the moderator to become members to be able to view past messages in the archives and post messages. The service is free.

****** Happy Tenth Anniversary David and the entire International Songbirds community.

George Carlin, R.I.P.

2008-06-23T13:00:00.000-04:00

Today's sad news of the death of George Carlin in California at the age of 71 reminded me of the following incidents. Although I hadn't seen or talked to him in a very long time, I have observed his steady ascension in the field of stand-up comedy with great admiration and respect.

****** One day in the mid-1960's, I was doing laundry in the basement of the large apartment building in Newark, New Jersey where I lived at the time. A man I'd seen on television unexpectedly entered, carrying a full basket and a box of detergent. We chatted, and I mentioned that I was surprised to know he lived in the building too. We hadn't at the time worked a gig together, although not too long after this encounter, we did appear on the same bill at the legendary hungry i in San Francisco. I opened for him.

****** George Carlin's career was just beginning to blossom, and he was frequently invited to appear on The Tonight Show or The Steve Allen Show. One memorable bit of hilarity featured "the hippy-dippy Weather Man", a character hopelessly bewildered by all things meteorological, who delivered the daily forecast in devil-may-care, hipster slang. He also appeared slightly stoned. Very funny and clever and totally inoffensive.

****** A few short weeks after the laundry meeting, I found myself on a bus to Philadelphia where I was hired to open for George on a weekend engagement at a brand-new venue. In fact, I believe we were the first of a very short line of entertainers to perform there. The club was most unusual: A small Catholic church which had been officially desanctified by the Vatican was now to function as a small concert hall/night club, with the bar located in the former choir loft. Carvings of saints and any other evidence of its previous function had been removed, the statue of The Virgin Mary replaced by an enlarged photograph of Billie Holiday. Duke Ellington's image hung in the spot previously occupied by the Crucifix.

****** The owners didn't seem to have a clue about how to run the place, and when asked, admitted they had relied on word-of-mouth and volunteers posting signs on street corners to alert the city of Philadelphia of its existence. Little wonder, our Opening Friday night audience consisted of about ten people, a piano player for me, the bartender and a couple of waitresses. With true professional grit, George and I delivered our best work as if the house were full of admiring fans.

****** On Saturday night, we faced the same dismal situation. We were both disappointed but didn't talked about it. As I was about to start the first set, there was some excitement at the front door. Like the Pied Piper himself, Bill Cosby entered, leading a group of as many as fifty people. We had an audience! Later we discovered that Cosby had heard of the embarrasing head-count the night before, and took it upon himself to round up friends and family to give us much appreciated support. A very magnanimous gesture I'm sure George never forgot. I know I never have.

****** George's language on stage was riddled with obscenity and profanity, none of it even slightly offensive to me, a veteran of a seven-week engagement opening for Lenny Bruce. Like all of his true fans, I heard his message; his colorful vocabulary merely reinforced his stinging observations and no-nonsense perceptions of our often misguided, even disasterous life choices. I hope other comedic philosopers will emulate George , but there will never be another quite so unique.

****** And be sure to check this brilliant piece of Carlin business.

Back Announcing ...

2008-06-20T13:18:00.001-04:00

****** I have a perpetual bone to pick with radio personnel who fail to "back announce" the track I just heard and loved. I want to buy that cd! But I don't who the singer was or the title of the disc. Grrrrrr.

****** When I was a dj (at WGBH-FM in Boston and WICN-FM in Worcester), I always back announced and often listed all sidemen as well, thus incurring the wrath of more than one Program Director. I did it anyway.

****** In my last post, I cited a superb rendition of Rachmaninoff's "Vocalise" sung by Anna Moffo (June 27, 1932 - March 9, 2006). She was an Italian-American lyric-coloratura soprano admired for her lush, radiant voice and great beauty. Her rendition of Vocalise is flawless, and my rave review might prompt you to seek it out. Therefore, I take this opportunity to "back announce" it: "Rachmaninoff Vocalise", RCA Number 09026-63669-2, features Ms. Moffo and Evgeny Kissin, James Galway, and Rachmaninoff himself coducting the piece played by The Philadelphia Orchestra, among others. Thirteen tracks in all. Go and get it.

Where have I been lately?

2008-06-17T16:30:00.000-04:00

****** My posts have been less than consistent, for which I apologize. This spring in New England has been filled with brilliantly fine weather demanding that one spend as much time outdoors as possible. Other delicious distractions for a dedicated sports fan such as myself: The Red Sox season is in full flow, The Boston Celtics at this writing need only one more victory to clinch the club's 17th NBA Championship title; the Boston Bruins are scattered about, nursing sprained knees and wounded pride, and the NE Patriots will be on the training field in August.

****** Yesterday, my husband and I spent the day watching and cheering for Tiger Woods as he faced one Rocco Mediate in a thrilling 18-hole playoff match for this year's U.S. Open title. Tonight, the Celtics will play game six against the enemy team called the L.A. Lakers. Soon, the the world's most accomplished tennis players will compete on Wimbledon's famed grass courts.

****** Added to these considerable temptations to remain firmly rooted potato style in my favorite chair, there is the stack of books beside said FC and the others which spill over the bedside table. During my childhood school years, vacations meant I was allowed to sit under the trees all summer if I liked, to endlessly and most voraciously read-read-read. I am today filled with the same giddy anticipation of the pleasures awaiting me among the pages any one of those books. What have I read lately? Jeffrey Archer's "Prisoner Of Birth" (I am a murder mystery/thriller addict), and "Counselor, A Life On The Edge Of History", a highly interesting book written by President John F. Kennedy's Special Counsel Ted Sorensen. I confess I was eager to re-live the days of JFK's administration in order to remind myself how proud I once was about the occupant of the White House.

****** I am scheduled to sing a few lovely Billy Strayhorn songs during a tribute concert to the composer. Bill Charlap is Musical Director of the series at The 92nd Street Y in New York. Full details are available here

****** The summer offers yet another highly pleasurable diversion: The New York Racing Association's annual summer meet at Saragota Springs, NY which attracts the most beautiful animals bred to run as fast as their spindly legs will carry them and a small jockey around the Oval Track. We prefer betting on the turf races, and our data base of information taps into various sources.

****** I hope your summer is filled with all of your favorite pleasures.

PS ... New compact discs I love: "Rachmaninoff's Vocalise", with thirteen tracks of the lovely melody played and sung by various artists. Best of the lot: Anna Moffo with The American Symphony Orchestra, Leopold Stokowski conducting. To die for.

Bill Finegan, R.I.P.

2008-06-13T14:41:00.000-04:00

****** Bob Brookmeyer sent me the message of the death on June 4 of our beloved friend Bill Finegan. What can I say after I say I'm so sorry we have lost him. He had entered my life in 1958 when I was a young singer, knowing very little about the man except that I was a bona-fide fan of the Sauter-Finegan Orchestra and owned all the lp's. It was easy to become hooked on the unique sound of the orchestra, with its delightful colorations, concert/jazz inflections, and the surprisingly successful use of unorthodox effects such as sleigh bells, hoof beats, booming tubas, vibrant kettle drums, fifes and even a glockenspiel!

****** So when I was told that Columbia Records had arranged for Bill Finegan to write the arrangements for my debut recording, I could hardly believe my good fortune. When the time came for our first meeting to discuss songs and become acquainted, I was prepared to be thoroughly intimidated by so brilliant a person and one I admired so much. Bill typically put me at ease from the start, and I fell madly in love with this charming, down-to-earth, funny genius.

****** Our collaboration, "Out Of The Blue", was recorded in 1961. When I arrived at Columbia's 30th Street studio in New York, I was thunderstruck to find so many famous musicians gathered, not just for me, but to share the experience of playing Bill's arrangements. I'll never forget that he arrived late, placed a full eight-ounce glass of straight bourbon on the podium, and set about calling the first take. God, I was nervous but from the moment I heard the glorious introductory chords of "My Ship", I felt safe and calm. Bill not only wrote the music, he also supervised the editing of two master tapes: one in monaural and one in stereo, the latter technology being one of the decades exciting new innovations.

****** Although we drifted apart over the years, I felt the loss of the connection most acutely about a year ago, resulting in a long love letter which I intended would convey my undying affection and respect for him. We began intermittent telephone chats, and I vowed to visit him. The last time we talked I was attempting to find out if he felt strong enough to see me. He emphatically said "No", but at the end of our chat, he said "I love you kiddo", I said "I love you too" and hung up the phone in tears.

Sauter-Finegan Orchestra Discography:

New Directions in Music (Bluebird, 1952)
The Sound of the Sauter-Finegan Orchestra (RCA Victor, 1952)
Inside Sauter-Finegan (Victor, 1953)
Concert Jazz (RCA, 1954)
Concerto for Jazz Band and Symphony Orchestra (RCA, 1954) (with Fritz Reiner and the Chicago Symphony Orchestra)
The Sons of Sauter-Finegan (RCA, 1954)
Adventure in Time (RCA, 1956)
Under Analysis (RCA, 1956)
Straight Down the Middle (RCA, 1957)
Return of the Doodletown Fifers (United Artists, 1960)

I Hate Rock "Music" ...

2008-04-17T16:31:00.004-04:00

****** My good friend Devra Hall has most succinctly expressed the state of the jazz business as of April 17, 2008. From my own perspective, I agree with her points well chosen: jazz is barren, bereft of club venues, difficult, unprofitable, uncomfortable, lacks the dedication and purity I once knew, and is irreparably damaged by the malignant infiltration of "smooth jazz", rock, rock fusion, and a plethora of singers hyped by record companies and so-called critics who know not the history of the art form. To read her comments in their entirety, go to DevraDoWrite. For those who may not know, Devra is the daughter of the renowned jazz guitarist Jim Hall, as well as an author exceptionally experienced in the field of Artistic Management. You can also go here to read detailed information about this remarkable lady.

****** I offer no solution for the current state of affairs, and this is one (and maybe the only) mess we can't pin on George Walker Bush. Europe and Japan can no longer be considered among the most desirable destinations where once we found eager and informed audiences since those ears too have been seduced by the lethal bombardment of the trash youthful populations prefer.

****** For myself, I escape the cacophony of rock-flavored tv commercials by engaging the "mute" button on the remote, and I will challenge anyone to a "fastest gun" contest anytime, but I wouldn't if I were you: I've been practicing for years and I'm better at it than you are.

Opening Day At Fenway Park

2008-04-09T12:41:00.000-04:00

****** The Red Sox home opener yesterday was a joyous event marked by thousands of lucky fans (with or without their children playing truant) at Fenway Park, and hundreds of thousands more who like me watched the televised festivities at home. Championship rings were given each member of the team, bands played, singers sang, Boston sports luminaries on the rosters of the Celtics, the Bruins and the Patriots waved at the crowd and revelled in the chilly April sunshine. There was an Air Force fly-over, always exciting but especially so at this address since I live spot on the direct flight path to the ball park. It is therefore a much anticipated but dizzyingly brief thrill to step out to the deck just seconds before the air craft rattle and roar across the rooftop.

****** Unquestionably, the most emotional moments occured with the announcement that Billy Buckner (Yes ...THE Billy Buckner) would throw out the first ball. He was greeted by waves of applause and cheering as he made his walk from center field to the mound, tears streaming his face because he realized he never again will carry the "goat" label. (For those of you who are not aware of the history, a brief description of the incredible moment follows below. You may read a full explanation here).

****** The 1986 World Series:

****** On October 25, 1986, the Boston Red Sox faced the New York Mets in game 6 of the World Series. Boston led the best-of-7 series 3 games to 2, and had a two-run lead with two outs in the bottom of the tenth inning. New York came back to tie the game with three straight singles off Calvin Schiraldi and a wild pitch by pitcher Bob Stanley. Mookie Wilson fouled off several pitches before hitting a ground ball to Buckner at first base. The ball rolled under Buckner's glove, through his legs, and into right field, allowing Ray Knight to score the winning run, forcing a seventh game, which the Mets won. Buckner's error capped off a poor Game 6 performance; he went 0-for-5 with runners on in all five at-bats.

****** Buckner was a key member of the team that year. He hit 8 home runs that September, with 22 RBIs and a .340 average, missing only three games. He drove in over 100 runs for the season. In game 5 of the Championship Series when the Red Sox faced elimination, he singled to start their ninth inning rally capped off by Dave Henderson's famous home run.

****** The Boston press crucified Mr. Buckner and the fans were equally (and understandably) venomous. Yesterday, Boston collectively hollered "Enough already"! He threw the first pitch to Dwight Evans, another crowd roar, followed by Johnny Pesky's appearance at the microphone, who with the vigorous voice of a man half his age, shouted the words we waited all winter long to hear: "PLAY BALL"!!!!

PS ...Oh yes, the game: The Sox beat the hapless Detroit Tigers 5-0 in regulation.

April 8, 1920-November 11, 1994

2008-04-08T00:00:00.003-04:00

Remember ...

2008-04-07T13:45:00.001-04:00

Tomorrow would have been Carmen McRae's 88th birthday.

This is the way I remember her: smiling, happy, full of good humor and always glad to see me. She knew of my admiration ... love, of course ... for her as a person, and my genuine reverence for her extraordinary musicianship. We spent many hours together, in various dressing rooms, at recording sessions, on the phone, in her car and in her home in LA. When she laughed, the room vibrated; when she spewed venom, people, animals and birds hastily fled the scene. She was my friend and is my favorite singer of all time. I miss her every day.

The Florida Tour

2008-03-21T14:38:00.002-04:00

****** Tampa, Avon Park, Venice and Coral Gables, Florida, March 13-18: Arbors Records assembled a splendid group of musicians called The Statesmen Of Jazz for these concerts at which I sang some songs I like. These are the excellent musicians I had the pleasure to work with: Butch Miles, Nicki Parrott, Randy Sandke, Howard Alden, Bucky Pizzarelli, Ken Peplowski, Harry Allen, Wycliffe Gordon, Derek Smith, Jon-Erik Kellso, John Allred, Aaron Weinstein. A special tribute to legendary bass player Bob Haggart was the theme of the Venice concert, and the proceedings were guided by another legend, the exceptional Dick Hyman.

****** The Venice Tribute to Bob Haggart provided a rare but truly sensational chance for us to hear the remarkable Danish violinist Sven Asmussen, a most charming man and brilliant musician. His performance brought the house down.

****** On Monday, March 17, I welcomed about 25 gifted jazz vocal students to an informal workshop on the campus of The Frost School of Music, University of Miami at Coral Gables. It wasn't on the schedule and I certainly had no way of knowing in advance, but my good friend, powerful singer Tierney Sutton was not only in town too, but came along with Shelly Berg, the School's Director. I insisted she join me for the workshop. The students were thrilled by her presence, and she offered much insight and solid advice. The two and half hours sped by, each student demonstrated fledgling ability and technique, but each possessed a good sense of time and pitch. Tierney and I enjoyed ourselves immensely, so thanks to all of you who worked with us. Please let me know when and if you produce a cd.

On living seventy-one years ...

2008-03-11T16:32:00.000-04:00

****** I love birthday celebrations, no matter who they honor. I host a birthday party every January 27th and April 8th, and a very exclusive bash on October 16th. (Correctly identify those three honorees and I will send you an autographed copy of "Dearest Duke").

****** I particularly enjoy my own birthdays. One of the most memorable took place at least twenty years ago when a group of close friends hosted an intimate gathering at The Jockey Club in Manhattan (Park Avenue South at the time). They had asked me months before the fact to describe a fantastic birthday. They then proceeded to make my fantasy come true: A snow-white cake of lightest texture with thick, white icing upon which sat a notably incorrect number of dainty candles; endless glasses of chilled champagne flowing without restraint, congratulatory messages from the great and the near-great (they even went to the trouble of making up a number of old-fashioned-looking telegrams, signed by luminaries such as the President, Frank Sinatra, Helen Keller and The Pope). I also received an extravagant, beautifully wrapped gift (a gorgeous Rolex Immy) presented with appropriate fanfare (not to mention the singing of a robust chorus of "Happy Birthday"). Very much a perfect anniversary.

****** Thursday, March 6: It's a pleasure to delay my birthday celebration this year to the day after the fact since my friend Bill Charlap, Peter Washington (b) and Kenny Washington (dr) are playing at The Regatta Bar in the Charles Hotel, Cambridge, just a few miles from my home. Buck and I were enjoying dinner in one of the hotel's fine restaurants when Bill joined us. His birthday present to me? He'd play any and all songs I requested. He also invited me to sing a song at the end of the set. One accepts such a splendid invitation without hesitation. I chose "Sophisticated Lady" and savoured every note we four produced. These musicians blend delicacy, precision, passion and incomparable intelligence that is always thrilling to hear but even more exhilerating when one actually participates. Thank you Bill, Kenny and Peter for such a lovely birthday.

Meet John Brady

2008-03-04T21:22:00.000-05:00

My friend John Brady, otherwise known as The Man In Black (hereinafter referred to as TMIB) maintains a Blog worthy of your perusal. As an editor, author and teacher and friend, I rely on him to offer guidance and encouragement.

I met Brady at least ten years ago when he and several concerned listeners organized a significant protest aimed at one of Boston's NPR affiliates, the great and powerful WGBH-FM. The station's decision to terminate a program called Music America, an eclectic five-hour mix of jazz and popular music hosted by Ron Della Chiesa, one of Boston's most beloved djs, caused consternation and a ground-swell of support. John Brady was among the founding members of The Committee To Save Music America", and that's when I met him.

John Brady ... I mean TMIB .... is currently Visiting Professional at the Scripps School of Journalism, Ohio University, Athens, Ohio, where he has taught magazine editing and writing since 2003. He has also taught at Boston University, Indiana State University, Tufts University, Emerson College, and in 1996 he was Hearst Visiting Professor at the University of Missouri Journalism School.

He writes a monthly column on magazine editing for Folio:, the magazine for magazine management. For the past 25 years he has led magazine editing workshops at annual and regional Folio: conferences. Since 1976 over thirty-five thousand publishing professionals have attended his presentations.

Visit John Brady's Blog by clicking his name in the right-hand column.

Birthday Memories

2008-03-04T13:44:00.000-05:00

I love this photograph. It's a moment at the 1962 Newport Jazz Festival. Yes, that is Coleman Hawkins. I'm still transfixed at the mere thought of standing beside the great man. I was all of twenty-five years old at the time. And since I will reluctantly acknowledge another birthday tomorrow, I find myself reminiscing a bit.

Fortunately for me, I have lived during a time when jazz was respected and enormously popular in this country, not to mention in Europe and Japan, thanks in large measure to Norman Granz and George Wein. The "Jazz At The Philharmonic" and "Newport Jazz Festival" programs provided jazz fans abundant opportunities to hear and see legendary musicians and singers. Ella was riding high, as was Sarah Vaughan. And I not only saw all of the people listed below, but on some occasions, worked with them. Many I called friends. They are not listed in any particular order, but they were alive and well when I knew them, and I'm just sitting here thinking about them all.

The Ellington and Basie bands were swinging, Oscar Peterson, Louis Armstrong, Anita O'Day, Gerry Mulligan, Al and Zoot, Dave Lambert, Ben Webster, Al Grey, Erroll Garner, Wes Montgomery, John Coltrane and Miles Davis, Bill Evans, Cannonball and Nat Adderly, Thad Jones and Mel Lewis, Stan Kenton, Mary Lou Williams (who asked me to demonstrate my remarkably inadequate scat singing ability when I met her in North Carolina); Art Pepper, Art Blakey and Charlie Mingus, Benny Carter, Pepper Adams; Sir Roland Hanna, Woody Herman, Art Farmer, Dexter Gordon, Tommy Flanagan, Al Hibler, Clifford Jordan, Hazel Scott and Dorothy Donegan, Arthur Prysock, Joe Turner and Jimmy Rushing, Barney Kessell, Carmen McRae, Shirley Horn, Billie Holiday and Betty Carter, Maynard Ferguson, Bill Potts and Benny Goodman, PeeWee Russell, PeeWee Erwin and Jack Teagarden. (I'll give you a break here so you can read the following treasured memory of Mr. T):

********* I was only fourteen and singing two nights a week with a popular dance band in Providence, Rhode Island, my home town. The gig was Wednesday and Saturday nights at a ballroom called Rhodes-on-the-Pawtuxet, a summer-light structure facing the cool breezes of the river. One night on a break, the guys in the band insisted I accompany them to a smaller building on the grounds where a private party was being held. The room was crowded and noisy, nobody listening to the music. I found a small patch of stage where I could just fit, gazing up into the face of the bandleader. He smiled down at me as I was clearly mesmerized by his playing and perhaps because I seemed the only one listening. Later I was told that my experience was one I might want to tell my grandchildren: I'd been sitting at the feet of Jack Teagarden.

**********
Now back to the scheduled listing, still in progress:

Artie Shaw, Scott LaFaro, Jo Jones, Teri Thornton, Red Mitchell, Jerome Richardson, Jimmy Rowles, Panama Francis, Eddie Barefield, John Lewis, Percy Heath and Connie Kaye; Teddi King, Dizzy Gillespie, Joe Mooney and Stan Getz, Charlie Byrd, Teddy Wilson, Paul Montgomery and Thelonious Monk; Lurlean Hunter and Alberta Hunter; Cal Collins, Frank Rosalino, Gary McFarland and Steve Jordan; Illinois Jacquet and Milt Hinton; Ray Charles, Harry Edison, Keter Betts, Grover Mitchell and Milt Jackson; Mel Torme, Ray Brown, Paul Quinichete, June Christy and Chet Baker, and Gil Evans too.

Thanks to Jimmy Rowles, I met Gil Evans and Chet Baker, ever so briefly, when each visited Jimmy in the apartment we shared at the time in New York's Greenwich Village.

Bill Charlap is my birthday present this year. He's appearing in this area on Thursday and Friday night, March 6 and 7, at The Regatta Bar in the Charles Hotel, Cambridge, MA. His colleagues Kenny Washington, drums and Peter Washington, bass will be along, and I can't wait to hear them, my favorites now and forever.

PS ... Remind me to tell you about the time Mortimer Snerd put the make on me.

New Online Drum Workshop

2008-03-02T20:14:00.000-05:00

I have received a most interesting note from my good friend, California drummer Colin Bailey. It sounds such a good idea, I thought it only fair to pass it on to all of you. Here is Colin's mail:

"Don Lombardi recently gave the reins of his company in Oxnard (CA) (Drum Workshop I endorse for) over to his son. He has had a fantastic studio built and is now concentrating on putting together a fabulous Web site called “The Drum Channel”. Named drummers will give master classes, and lessons which will be available world wide on pay per view. There will be a segment where drummers get together and talk about their musical experiences. Another segment will be playing within a group.

I went down in September and filmed my bass drum technique and solo concept, in coordination with my books. A couple of weeks prior to that I was there to have a talking get together with Jimmy Cobb and this coming week I will be doing the same with Joe Morello, Louis Bellson & myself. I am having a GREAT time seeing all my old friends again."

So, we must all stay closely tuned for official launch date for the new site. I'll let you know as soon as I do. Meantime, here is Colin's web page.

Dearest Duke Cover

2008-02-17T15:26:00.003-05:00

After writing about the actual recording logistics, etc. below, and publishing several gratifying reviews, I certainly wish you all to see the cover (so you can more easily spot it in the Jazz Vocal bin at your favorite cd store), and to acknowledge the image captured by Eric Stephen Jacobs. If there is a Pulitzer Prize for Photography, he is the most deserving. Thank you Eric for this terrific shot, and I apologize again for being so fidgety. But then, we have worked on several covers in the past, so we know what to expect.

Yesterday's post is next.

Reviews for "Dearest Duke"

2008-02-16T12:50:00.002-05:00

An unanticipated glitch at my web site prevents the publication there of four reviews I'd very much like you to read. I'm rather proud of them. The cd was recorded in January, 2007, in the intimate Westwood, Massachusetts studio of bass player Peter Kontrimas. Brad Hatfield, the pianist on the date, unknown to many of you, is a busy musician. He and Peter most often are found working a chock-a-block schedule with The Boston Pops.

Ken Peplowski is an old friend possessing a magnificient talent you will instantly appreciate on this cd if you happen to be unfamiliar with his voluminous recording history. Visit Ken's web site to view his extensive discography.

In the studio, Ken and I stood side by side facing Brad at the Steinway: no isolation booths, no ear-phones (except on Brad who needed to hear the cue from Peter). It was an old-fashioned method which I believe served us well. I've been told by many that the sound - the presence the listener experiences - is outstanding.

Perhaps this background and the following reviews will persuade you to run right out and buy a copy. That would be very nice indeed, and I thank you in advance.

Review # 1:

Carol Sloane: Dearest Duke (Arbors 19350)
by Frank John Hadley
DOWNBEAT MAGAZINE, September 2007

Carol Sloane doesn't so much sing a song as bestow it a state of grace. Quietly expressive in an alto of tremendous warmth, she has recorded more songs by Duke Ellington than any other composer in the many years since being "discovered" at the 1961 Newport Jazz Festival. There have been two all-Ellington albums in her discography: "Sophisticated Lady" from 1977 and 1999's "Romantic Ellington."

Sloane's third fond bow to the master, "Dearest Duke," with Brad Hatfield on piano and Ken Peplowski on reeds, works like a charm. Though the material is familiar, nine individual songs and two medleys all breathe with the calm modulated joy of an unusually wise vocalist committed to finding new delight in long-treasured lyrics and music.

Sloane considers ballads her primary way of conveying emotion. She examines each word for nuanced meaning as if it were the edge of a diamond under a microscope. Negotiating the melody of "Sophisticated Lady" with a dreamy finesse, Sloane appears to have deeper understanding of the tune than when she interpreted it on records in the 1970s and '90s. She brings calm and considered awe to "In a Sentimental Mood," staying free of pretense or melodrama, as clarinetist Peplowski mirrors her mood with seeming effortlessness. "Mood Indigo" is her low-key yet poignant confessional on love, that special voice of hers gliding sky-high in rapture at song's end.

One reason why Sloane is so effective on ballads, and on the occasional number where she picks up the tempo with swinging surety, is her esthetic decision to leave pauses between phrases. These pregnant, suspenseful silences lure lucky listeners into the timeless songs.

************

THE WASHINGTON POST, December 25, 2007
"DEAREST DUKE"
Carol Sloane

Jazz singer Carol Sloane has been perennially underappreciated during her long, uncompromising career. She sings with a rare maturity and grace and has dozens of excellent recordings, yet she is little known outside a small circle of admirers.

Sloane has often recorded the music of Duke Ellington, including a full album in 1999 ("Romantic Ellington"), but her most recent effort reaches a deeper, more profound level. There are several up-tempo exceptions, but most of the 12 tracks on "Dearest Duke" are ballads that produce a delicate sense of intimacy. Sloane is supported only by Brad Hatfield's understated piano and the gentle fills of Ken Peplowski's clarinet and tenor saxophone. She doesn't scat a single note, yet her nuanced shifts in tempo and harmony -- not to mention her sultry, smoky voice -- possess the unmistakable feeling of jazz.

Sloane brings an almost literary sense of interpretation to a song's lyrics and can make a subtle vocal quaver in "I've Got It Bad and That Ain't Good" convey a plaintive undercurrent of pain. Her poignant phrasing and inflections in "Solitude" and "I Didn't Know About You" draw on such a deep well of experience that we don't hear the words so much as feel them.

At every turn in these familiar tunes, she discovers new colors and seams of meaning that we didn't know were there. This is the finest vocal album I've heard all year, and if Carol Sloane isn't America's greatest living jazz singer, then no one deserves the title.
-- Matt Schudel

************

THE NEW YORK SUN, Dec. 28, 2007:
"Jazz To Remember And To Remind: The Best Jazz of 2007":

Carol Sloane "Dearest Duke" (Arbors): The other outstanding vocal album of the year is Ms. Sloane's latest and most heartfelt collection of Ellingtonia. The nod almost went to Andy Bey's new Birdland set, but the presence of the brilliant clarinetist Ken Peplowski on every track puts Ms. Sloane over the top.
-Will Friedwald

************

THE NEW YORKER, January 14, 2008:
Best of 2007:
Carol Sloane, “Dearest Duke” (Arbors)

There’s no place for Sloane to hide on this intimate set, and that works out just fine for this underrated veteran singer. Accompanied only by piano and Ken Peplowski’s clarinet and saxophone, Sloane glides over imperishable Ellington ballads, treating each with the blend of delicacy and solidity that only a skilled vocalist can conjure. It’s minimalist magic.

************

A new Blog and some updating ...

2008-02-13T18:06:00.005-05:00

I have recently become acquainted with a passionate jazz fan who states his views and preferences with the zeal and pure delight more often related to the sense of wonder and joyous discovery many of us experienced as teen-ages. An adolescent he is not, but rather a guitar player/published author who expresses his enthusiasm with vigor and insight. He calls his new Blog "Jazz My Two Cents Worth" and a click of your mouse will enable you to savor his opinions too. Look to the right.

It's been some time since I posted, but the Domestic Sciences have consumed all daylight hours, i.e., the painters will be in next week, sooooooo the much needed task of sorting out, disposing of and quibbling over what to keep and not to keep (my husband is a Major Pack Rat) has made this a truly jolly time for us. The fact that we are still speaking is in itself a brilliant accomplishment. Combine our sometimes heated discussion about an item's value, occuring during this most dull and boring of months, and our patience is put to the supreme test. Pitchers and catchers report in 18 hours and some minutes FINALLY, a time for rejoicing as we draw closer to the official start of the Boston Red Sox Spring Training schedule. Otherwise, the Westminster Kennel Club Dog Show is the only February highlight for TV viewing, and that was over last night. A very sweet animal named Uno, a 15-inch Beagle also known as Ch. K-Run’s Park Me In First, won Best Of Show. We applauded wildly and we are cat people, so you have some idea of how tedious February is. It's usually longer than any other month no matter what the calendar tells you, but of course, that's only if you live in New England.

In New York recently, columnist Will Friedwald told me this: If Renee Rosnes had married Mickey Rooney instead of Bill Charlap, she'd now be Mrs. Renee Rooney.

Nothing Is Lost

2008-01-15T12:20:00.000-05:00

My very good friend Carp Ferrari sent this to me today from her farm in Natick, MA.:

"Nothing Is Lost"

Deep in our sub-conscious, we are told
Lie all our memories, lie all the notes
Of all the music we have ever heard
And all the phrases those we loved have spoken,
Sorrows and losses time has since consoled,
Family jokes, out-moded anecdotes
Each sentimental souvenir and token
Everything seen, experienced, each word
Addressed to us in infancy, before
Before we could even know or understand
The implications of our wonderland.
There they all are, the legendary lies
The birthday treats, the sights, the sounds, the tears
Forgotten debris of forgotten years
Waiting to be recalled, waiting to rise
Before our world dissolves before our eyes
Waiting for some small, intimate reminder,
A word, a tune, a known familiar scent
An echo from the past when, innocent
We looked upon the present with delight
And doubted not the future would be kinder
And never knew the loneliness of night.
-Noel Coward, from "Noel Coward Collected Verse",
Metheuen Publishing Ltd.

The Barcelona World Race

2008-01-08T16:15:00.000-05:00

Ahoy Mateys! Since November 11, 2007, I have been receiving and reading with great interest the daily briefings concerning The Barcelona World Race, a new two-handed, non-stop round-the-world yacht race, to be held every four years. For the first time, this race involves the world's best professional sailors from both solo and fully crewed disciplines coming together to compete against each other in teams of two.

The sailors race onboard Open 60 boats [60-foot monohulls], the same boats that are raced in the solo Vendée Globe. There are photographs of these beautifully sleek vessels here. You can sign up for the daily briefings if you wish. Click "Teams" to see photos.

I haven't any real interest in sailing, yachts or yachtsmen (although I admit I don't really know any). I'm not a good sailor: there's much too much mal in the mer. In fact, I can't remember when I heard of this colossal endeavor in the first place, but now I'm hooked. Lately, the boats in the lead have encountered ice bergs the size of Connecticut. They report heavy seas, bone-chilling temperatures, sail damage requiring repairs in spite of towering waves, bumping into unknown objects in the night (it must be comforting to know they are not entirely alone out there), and all the other thoroughly mind-boggling efforts each team is exerting in order to be the first yacht to finish.

Here on day 59, PAPREC VIRBAC 2 with Jean-Pierre (FRA) and Damian Foxall (IRE), is closing in on Cape Horn, and as the leading boat in the Barcelona World Race, has just over 500 more miles to run before reaching the great southern Cape. Cape Horn has great significance to any round-the-world sailor, and it's no different in the Barcelona World Race. In fact, in this race, it also marks the next scoring gate in the race as well. The yacht I'm cheering for just because I really like the name is HUGO BOSS with Alex Thompson (GBR) and Andrew Cape (AUS) sailing 1022 miles behind PV2.

Not surprising, I find reports of these high-seas adventures bracingly refreshing contrasts to anything I will read in today's newspaper.

"Duke" Best of 2007

2007-12-29T11:11:00.001-05:00

"Carol Sloane, "Dearest Duke" (Arbors): The other outstanding vocal album of the year is Ms. Sloane's latest and most heartfelt collection of Ellingtonia. The nod almost went to Andy Bey's new Birdland set, but the presence of the brilliant clarinetist Ken Peplowski on every track puts Ms. Sloane over the top."

The above comment by Will Friedwald appears in the December 28, 2007 edition of THE NEW YORK SUN titled "Jazz To Remember And To Remind: The Best Jazz Of 2007". While my "Dearest Duke" cd is "the other outstanding vocal album", you may be interested to know that he chose one by a favorite singer of mine, LA's much-admired Sue Raney. Wonderful news that a new recording is available:

"Sue Raney, "A Tribute to Doris Day: Heart's Desire" (Fresh Sound): The first recording in 10 years by Los Angeles's greatest vocal treasure is an homage to another underappreciated singer. Ms. Raney makes even Day's children's songs seem like profound life lessons. Here's hoping we don't have to wait another decade for her next album or to see her live in New York."

To read the complete article, go here

R.I.P. Oscar

2007-12-26T16:21:00.000-05:00

With the sad news this week of Oscar Peterson's passing, I am reprinting my July 31, 2007 entry.

Tuesday, July 31, 2007

The Night I Received The Oscar

I've told this story numerous times, but with this Blog, perhaps it will reach a larger audience. I certainly hope so because Oscar Peterson once gave me an invaluable gift, treasured to this day.

Picture this: August, 1961. I am 24 years old and about to make my New York night club debut: a two-week engagement at The Village Vanguard, opening for Oscar Peterson and his side men, Ray Brown on bass and drummer Ed Thigpen. I had appeared at The Newport Jazz Festival the previous month, where I received a great deal of very positive press. The buzz about that, and the fact that Oscar was making a rare club appearance, assured owner Max Gordon that the joint would be jumpin' every night. And it was. Many other instantly recognizable jazz luminaries were scattered in the audience on any given night, like so many brilliant stars in a clear night's sky.

Such close proximity to world-famous Oscar Peterson intimidated me. Giant of a man: robust, gregarious, full of good humor and charm with an added devilish hint of mischief. I was paralyzed with awesome admiration, practically speechless as well. All I could manage that first week were the humble mumbles: "Good evening, Oscar", "Pardon me, Oscar", and "Goodnight, Oscar", though I was longing to share a real conversation with him. Never mind: I was being paid to sing a brief 20-minute set after which I could sit with every other of his adoring fans to watch and listen to his genius. In heaven? You needn't ask.

One of the songs I sang each night was the Kurt Weill-Ira Gershwin haunting masterpiece "My Ship" from the 1941 Broadway production "Lady In The Dark", starring Gertrude Lawrence, warbling in her delicate, charming British accent. It's a gorgeous melody, deceptively simple but like any other mine field, to be approached at each step of the way with cautionary respect.

I was singing at THE Village Vanguard; I was opening for one of the world's greatest JAZZ pianists. Was I not therefore A JAZZ SINGER??? And what do jazz singers do? They improvise! To hell with a boring, simple melody. It needed some embellishment, some "jazzing up". And so I commenced to work around, above and below the line every time I sang it. After one or two of these seriously flawed attempts to improve on Mr. Weill's melody, Oscar took notice.

He'd say: "Carol. Sing "My Ship", and of course I was flattered that my rendition so impressed the Great Man. He'd sit in the shadows on the banquette just to my left. Each night I sang with my usual abandon, and each night I'd eagerly look toward him, expecting acknowledgement for my inventiveness. Instead, his was a dead-pan expression, PopEye-like biceps firmly fixed across his expansive upper torso. Buddha displeased.

I was baffled (and yes, stupid). He made the same request each night for a week, and each night I'd muck it up. Finally, I became impatient and decided to just sing the damned song without fiddle or flourish. When I finished and looked once again toward Oscar, he was smiling and applauding. Brick falls on young singer's head, a million-watt bulb illuminates the clouded brain. It was an extraordinary lesson I've carried with me ever since.

In the intervening years, I've listened more closely to singers who sing the melody while exploiting to their considerable advantage the highly effective use of space, thereby establishing his or her signature interpretative twist. Shirley Horn mastered this technique, Diana Krall adapts it beautifully, and Billie Holiday paved the way for us all.

Thank you Oscar, and long life to ye!

Labels: The Night I Received The Oscar

I found this in my stocking ...

2007-12-26T15:59:00.001-05:00

The Washington Post, December 25, 2007

"DEAREST DUKE"

Carol Sloane

Jazz singer Carol Sloane has been perennially underappreciated during her long, uncompromising career. She sings with a rare maturity and grace and has dozens of excellent recordings, yet she is little known outside a small circle of admirers.

Sloane has often recorded the music of Duke Ellington, including a full album in 1999 ("Romantic Ellington"), but her most recent effort reaches a deeper, more profound level. There are several up-tempo exceptions, but most of the 12 tracks on "Dearest Duke" are ballads that produce a delicate sense of intimacy. Sloane is supported only by Brad Hatfield's understated piano and the gentle fills of Ken Peplowski's clarinet and tenor saxophone. She doesn't scat a single note, yet her nuanced shifts in tempo and harmony -- not to mention her sultry, smoky voice -- possess the unmistakable feeling of jazz.

Sloane brings an almost literary sense of interpretation to a song's lyrics and can make a subtle vocal quaver in "I've Got It Bad and That Ain't Good" convey a plaintive undercurrent of pain. Her poignant phrasing and inflections in "Solitude" and "I Didn't Know About You" draw on such a deep well of experience that we don't hear the words so much as feel them.

At every turn in these familiar tunes, she discovers new colors and seams of meaning that we didn't know were there. This is the finest vocal album I've heard all year, and if Carol Sloane isn't America's greatest living jazz singer, then no one deserves the title.

-- Matt Schudel

Bill Crow

2007-11-01T17:20:00.001-04:00

I have added bass player Bill Crow's site to Links Of Interest on the right. Jazz fans are familiar with Bill's work in bands led by luminaries such as Clark Terry and Bob Brookmeyer, Al Cohn and Zoot Sims. His memory is air-tight and flawless. Two of my favorite books are "Jazz Anecdotes" (which features a cover photo to be treasured: Roy Eldridge has just said something to Lester Young which is causing Prez to hold his sides to keep from falling down), and "From Birdland To Broadway", both insightful, informative and beautifully written, not to mention often tear-inducing hilarious. Both are very much worth your dollar investment. Not surprisingly, Bill is also a funny, kind and generous man, not to mention an excellent musician.

If you have followed jazz and its practioners as long as I have, you will cherish these books. If you have followed jazz and its practioners as long as I have, you probably own these books. Time to share them with other addicts.

The Rockies, The Sox And Dave

2007-10-25T14:50:00.000-04:00

The Red Sox stomped the Colorado Rockies last night, winning 13-1 in a rather dull contest precisely because of the trouncing. We had expected a bigger fight from the much-heralded National League champs, even if we didn't recognize any of the names or faces on their side. Perhaps tonight the Rocks/Sox show will be more interesting. One can only hope.

The especially good news for all of you Dave Frishberg fans (please get behind me in the line) is that he has a new web site filled with amazing stories of his own experiences in New York and LA, his connections with hundreds of famous singers and musicians, all told in typically droll fashion by this master craftsman of the written word. I heartily recommend you make a visit here and enjoy the tales he tells.

On the mend ....

2007-10-19T17:00:00.000-04:00

I told all of you about my husband's heart attack, the diligent and highly-skilled doctors and nurses at Mass General in Boston who took such good care of him, and the continued TLC administered at Youville Rehab Center in Cambridge, Massachusetts. He's been home for just two weeks, showing such remarable recovery, his visiting nurses, OT and PT specialists have officially signed off. He walks every day, eats a new but flavorful diet (I know it's fine: I not only prepare it, I also share the meals), reads a lot, has been making and receiving calls from business associates. All in all, it's rather astonishing.

Thanks to each of you for your kind wishes, cards, flowers and telephone calls. No wonder he's looking more and more fit every day. Your thoughts and prayers encouraged him enormously.

Ah, October. The Red Sox still have to deal with the very talented Cleveland Indians tomorrow night at Fenway Park. The Indians lead the best-of-seven series, 3-2, meaning they still have two more chances to get to the World Series. We will watch every move on our vintage (1954) RCA color tv which has NEVER seen the inside of a repair shop.

I have more "Opening for ... " stories coming soon to this space.

The Opening Act

2007-10-09T13:26:00.000-04:00

Many performers have experienced the thrill of Opening For The Headliner. In my long career, I opened for comics (Jerry) Stiller & (Anne) Meara, Phyllis Diller, Jackie Vernon, Godfrey Cambridge, Jackie Mason, The Smothers Brothers, Woody Allen, George Carlin, Richard Pryor, Bill Cosby and Lenny Bruce (see June 18, 19, 2007 for Opening for Lenny Bruce, Parts One and Two).

In the 1960's, many successful night club formats presented a singer as opening act, followed by a headliner comic. The most prestigious venues were The Blue Angel and The Village Vanguard in New York; Mr. Kelly's in Chicago; the hungry i in San Francisco. Here are a few mini-stories about my interaction(s) with some of these diverse personalities.

******

Stiller & Meara: Intense, focused, charming people who were always very seriously running over their routine before taking the stage. They were "New Stars" in the 1960's when I opened for them, but they were enjoying frequent national television exposure appearing on The Ed Sullivan Show, The Steve Allen Show, and continuing with Jack Paar and Johnny Carson in the enormously successful Late Show network slot. Unfortunately, I did not establish any sort of acquaintanceship with them, but very much enjoyed their intelligent, screamingly funny act.

*******

Phyllis Diller: Phyllis was riding high in the 50's and 60's, guesting on tv shows hosted by Merv Griffin, Milton Berle, Bob Hope, Sid Caesar, as well as numerous Late Show appearances with Jack Paar and later with Johnny Carson. You could hardly turn on the tv and NOT see her. An outrageously camp figure, she wore gloves and flamboyant, over-the-top costumes, had stick-skinny legs and wore fashionable little ankle boots daintily sprinkled with rhinestones. She frequently embellished her dress with ostrich feathers. She sported a fabulous wig and carried an over-sized cigarette holder. She laughed raucously at her own jokes, often made at the expense of her husband "Fang".

We shared a dressing room at The Blue Angel in New York when I opened for her. One night she sported a heavy cast on her leg: rehab gear after a nasty fall. As she made her way to the stage for her first entrance that night, she cheerfully bellowed "I look like Chester in drag"!* Phyllis also told me she had carefully crafted "A Life Plan" which set specific career and personal goals she anticipated with wide-eyed enthusiasm.

P.S. Phyllis was a jazz fan, and proved it by patronizing Bradley's, the famous bistro in Greenwich Village,whenever she was in NYC and heard that Jimmy Rowles was playing there. She also expected to be invited to "sit in", so she always brought along her little C-Melody sax. Jimmy cheerfully obliged the lady.

*The name of tv character Chester Goode, played by Dennis Weaver. He was a regular character on "Gunsmoke", a popular 1950's tv western series starring James Arness as Marshall Matt Dillon and walked with a pronounced limp.

******

Jackie Mason: His act frequently targets hapless people in front-row-seats who have no choice but to laugh at zingers Jackie flings their way. Jackie's night-club material was exactly that which catapulted his huge one-man successes on Broadway.

I opened for Jackie (and subsequently for other comics during the 1960's) at the famed Chicago nightclub called Mr. Kelly's. Jackie's act never failed to make me laugh vigorously, even if I heard the same lines over and over again. Jackie understood that one person's laughter can often stimulate a similar response in the audience. So, on some evenings, I was his "plant". Jackie thanked me by taking me to one of Chicago's most popular delis for lunch several times during that two-week engagement. He was always greeted warmly by the staff. "Jackie! How're you doin'?" "Thank God I'm working", was his standard dead-pan reply.

Jackie Mason's career was unexpectedly derailed in 1964 after a furious Ed Sullivan blackballed him after Mason allegedly gave the finger when the show tried to cut him off prematurely. The truth of the matter is, the show ran long because of a speech by then-President Lyndon B. Johnson, and someone backstage used gestures to try to get Mason to finish quickly. Mason told the audience "getting a lot of fingers tonight" and started making random gestures himself. Nothing obscene, but Sullivan didn't see it that way.

My husband and I went to see "The World According To Me" on Broadway in 1986 and chatted with Jackie in his basement dressing-room after the show. We reminisced about the Chicago gig and lied about how gracefully we'd both aged. I don't share much if any of Jackie's political point of view, but if you wish to explore his opinions, visit this site.

More "Opening For ... " coming soon to this location.

Jazz On Riverside Drive

2007-10-08T19:06:00.000-04:00

October 8, 2007: My husband's frightening heart attack occured on Labor Day, about a month after the Riverside Drive concert took place. I apologize for the delay publishing this item.
-Sloane

I remember with great clarity my very first visit to New York City. It was 1953, and I was a passenger in a friend's car, driving from Rhode Island. I'm sixteen years old and tingling with excitement as we approached the city via the Henry Hudson Parkway, exiting at Riverside Drive.

"Riverside Drive"!!! Towers glittering in the twilight on the left: apartment houses, I was told. New Yorkers stacked on top of one another! Sophisticated and glamorous people like those in 1930's movies: every woman leading a languorous, luxurious life on a daily regimen of breakfast in bed, followed by cocktails and luncheon with friends, cocktail parties and Opening Nights on Broadway, jazz and cocktails and dinner parties, full-length sable coats and slender gowns of silk caressing their pencil-thin, slinky bodies. And cocktails. I have been a devotee of that fashion period all my life. Ladies wearing hats and furs and suits and gloves: the epitome of the well-dressed lady often portrayed in films by Claudette Colbert, Kay Francis or Myrna Loy. How stunningly elegant. How divine. How desirable!

Early Sunday evening August 5, 2007, starting at 6 PM, I sang some favorite songs for approximately 2,000 people at Riverside Park adjacent to Riverside Drive. What a great audience! Both glamorous and sophisticated, down-to-earth and unpretentious, families sharing picnics, children, people dancing and swaying to the pulse of my swinging trio. Because this was an outdoor concert on a balmy summer night, I could see all the people. It was all very free, warm, loose and predictably spontaneous: Jazz.

I had finished the first chorus of "In A Sentimental Mood" and pianist Norman Simmons began the start of the song the second time. I then saw a child of about 3, not only waving goodbye to everyone, but walking up to and warmly hugging three or four of the ladies seated in the front row. I thought perhaps they were his aunts. Naturally, I found this charming and sweet so I called out to him: "Am I gonna get some sugar too?" He was eager, so his Mother lifted him up to me. I got my hug and he grabbed the mike. He began singing wordless sounds absolutely in the chord and he brought the house down. I didn't expect any of it, and he may be the most memorable "sittin' in" guest who ever joined me on stage.

Thanks to all who bought "Dearest Duke", the latest cd. I was happy to sign them for you. And thanks to Mickey Bass and the folks who invited me to be there. Love to do it all again, any time.

There are two Carol Sloane videos at YouTube.com, one of which is a rendition of "Sophisticated Lady" as performed that afternoon. Go here and type Carol Sloane in the search envelope.

Medical Report

2007-09-29T21:14:00.000-04:00

Now where was I? Oh yes. We were enjoying some truly stupendous weather, visiting the coastal towns of Southern New England, savouring the summer's sea and garden harvest. I intended to post on or about September 1st, with two diary notes poised for submission.

Labor Day, 6 AM: My husband Buck wakens me to complain of chest pain. He had a heart attack in 1987, so I leap from the bed, prepared to call 911. We live within a mile of a hospital, and he insisted I take him there. The absolutely correct call, it turns out: he collapsed within minutes of our arrival at Winchester Hospital. Technicians and doctors immediately applied defibrillation devices, unquestionably saving his life.

After an hour or more, during which I contacted my step-son David who lives nearby, Buck was transported to Mass General, one of the world's most prestigious hospitals, his distraught wife seated in front beside the ambulance driver. He went directly to Cardiac ICU where he remained, heavily sedated, medicated and monitored for the next 2-1/2 weeks.

I spent most days sitting at his bedside, his son stopped by daily as well, along with a loving journey made by his daughter from her home in Hastings-on-Hudson. With two small children, one about to enter first grade, Sandy drove with them to hold her father's hand and tell him she loved him. We all shed many tears and held each other during the critical phase of his recovery. Our family has never been stronger or more loving.

Buck is now in a rehab facility in Cambridge, MA, responding to Physical Therapy and growing stronger each day. We hope he will be released and home by mid-October.

I am astonished to type this on the next to last day of Septmber, the longest month I have ever lived. Not only have we successfully evaded death's deliberate grasp; the opportunity to accept the challenges of life-style changes and reinforced family unity make us all terribly grateful to the medical teams who provided such skilled and compassionate care.

I am hoping to post more frequently, but the days are chock-a-block. I have missed the writing very much.

Loading Up

2007-08-14T17:15:00.000-04:00

Me and Tex was a'sittin' round the camp fire's dyin' embers last night. Suddenly we heard some really scary sounds coming out of the darkness: low growls, jaws being licked in anticipation of a juicy meal, and in the gloom, menacing red eyes blazing, moving slowly in and out of range.

"They're coming closer, Tex".

"I know, April Darlin'. Are you sure we got enough ammunition to hold 'em off?"

"God, I think so. I HOPE so."

"Courage, woman. Hang on to your bloomers and keep the shotgun close to your sweet thighs. It's probably going to get very nasty."

August 14, 2007: The Boston Red Sox are a mere four (4) games ahead of the dastardly New York Yankees in the American League Eastern Division.

RIP: Yankees famed short stop and broacaster Phil Rizzuto, today at age 89.

A Good Book Is Hard To Find

2007-08-01T14:10:00.000-04:00

I'm off for a few days until next Monday, but I've posted a good many items I hope will interest you. Meanwhle, I want to recommend a book given to me on my birthday by Bill Charlap. "Easy To Remember, The Great American Songwriters and Their Songs" by William Zinsser, David R. Gordine, Publisher. It's a delightful book filled with insight and humor and for me, it's the perfect summer read. Thanks Bill. And thank you Mr. Zinsser.

Until next time, I hope everyone is enjoying an especially fine summer. It's been nothing short of stupendous here in Southern New England, and the Red Sox are today seven games ahead of the Yankees after we lost last night to the Orioles, and the Yankees thrashed the poor Chicago White Sox 16-3. Baseball scores this season more closely resemble football tallies.

The Night I Received The Oscar

2007-07-31T20:08:00.000-04:00

I've told this story numerous times, but with this Blog, perhaps it will reach a larger audience. I certainly hope so because Oscar Peterson once gave me an invaluable gift, treasured to this day.

Picture this: August, 1961. I am 24 years old and about to make my New York night club debut: a two-week engagement at The Village Vanguard, opening for Oscar Peterson and his side men, Ray Brown on bass and drummer Ed Thigpen. I had appeared at The Newport Jazz Festival the previous month, where I received a great deal of very positive press. The buzz about that, and the fact that Oscar was making a rare club appearance, assured owner Max Gordon that the joint would be jumpin' every night. And it was. Many other instantly recognizable jazz luminaries were scattered in the audience on any given night, like so many brilliant stars in a clear night's sky.

Such close proximity to world-famous Oscar Peterson intimidated me. Giant of a man: robust, gregarious, full of good humor and charm with an added devilish hint of mischief. I was paralyzed with awesome admiration, practically speechless as well. All I could manage that first week were the humble mumbles: "Good evening, Oscar", "Pardon me, Oscar", and "Goodnight, Oscar", though I was longing to share a real conversation with him. Never mind: I was being paid to sing a brief 20-minute set after which I could sit with every other of his adoring fans to watch and listen to his genius. In heaven? You needn't ask.

One of the songs I sang each night was the Kurt Weill-Ira Gershwin haunting masterpiece "My Ship" from the 1941 Broadway production "Lady In The Dark", starring Gertrude Lawrence, warbling in her delicate, charming British accent. It's a gorgeous melody, deceptively simple but like any other mine field, to be approached at each step of the way with cautionary respect.

I was singing at THE Village Vanguard; I was opening for one of the world's greatest JAZZ pianists. Was I not therefore A JAZZ SINGER??? And what do jazz singers do? They improvise! To hell with a boring, simple melody. It needed some embellishment, some "jazzing up". And so I commenced to work around, above and below the line every time I sang it. After one or two of these seriously flawed attempts to improve on Mr. Weill's melody, Oscar took notice.

He'd say: "Carol. Sing "My Ship", and of course I was flattered that my rendition so impressed the Great Man. He'd sit in the shadows on the banquette just to my left. Each night I sang with my usual abandon, and each night I'd eagerly look toward him, expecting acknowledgement for my inventiveness. Instead, his was a dead-pan expression, PopEye-like biceps firmly fixed across his expansive upper torso. Buddha displeased.

I was baffled (and yes, stupid). He made the same request each night for a week, and each night I'd muck it up. Finally, I became impatient and decided to just sing the damned song without fiddle or flourish. When I finished and looked once again toward Oscar, he was smiling and applauding. Brick falls on young singer's head, a million-watt bulb illuminates the clouded brain. It was an extraordinary lesson I've carried with me ever since.

In the intervening years, I've listened more closely to singers who sing the melody while exploiting to their considerable advantage the highly effective use of space, thereby establishing his or her signature interpretative twist. Shirley Horn mastered this technique, Diana Krall adapts it beautifully, and Billie Holiday paved the way for us all.

Thank you Oscar, and long life to ye!

"Do you teach?"

2007-07-25T20:12:00.000-04:00

I'm often asked this question. Since I have never had formal training, cannot play the piano or read music, I feel stunningly unqualified to teach. Disclaimer: I did, for a brief period conduct a series of classes at The New England Conservatory Of Music, but it was a temporary assignment. My students were eight young women, each convinced hers was a directive from On High to demonstrate her amazing capacity to emulate if not surpass Ella Fitzgerald's scat singing. I was sympathetic to their zealousness, but I posted the following message on the classroom blackboard with the invitation:

"Choose one as your focus for this semester:

In A Sentimental Mood
Solitude
Prelude To A Kiss
Sophisticated Lady
Day Dream
Lush Life"

Any one of these melodies presents exquisite challenges to any singer: graceful, logical, and seemingly easy to maneuver. That's where the beauty of these carefully constructed songs shines through. It's not at all easy to place the notes correctly. But practicing the technique will pay off handsomely in the final analysis. My young students were unable to discern the wisdom of my method, and grumbled accordingly. My argument was and is simple: You should not attempt Advanced Calculus (scat singing) until a firm grasp of basic math (chord structure) is achieved. My students much preferred the bungee-jump thrill of diving into wordless versions of "Joy Spring" or "Ornithology". Yes, I certainly understand the desire to explore improvisational jazz since so many singers with impeccable credentials express themselves in this manner, thereby suggesting to the not-so talented that this activity is easy and without peril. My argument is that scat singing is an acquired attribute developed and nurtured over time. Listening to some blatantly confident but thoroughly unskilled scat singing can be harmful to your health, or (if you're lucky) hysterically funny.

Throughout my earliest years, I listened to and learned from the voices of the popular singers on the radio. There were so many but here are some I remember: Fran Warren, Helens Ward, O'Connell and Forrest, Anita O'Day, Francis Faye, Doris Day, Ruth Olay, Johnnie Ray and even Dennis Day! (Mr. Day was the singer on The Jack Benny Program and so far as I know, no relation to Doris). Also, Kay Starr, Kay Armin and Beatrice Kaye; Peggy Lee and Lee Wiley; Ella Fitzgerald, Sarah Vaughan, Carmen McRae, Billie Holiday, Bea Wain and Francis Wayne, Frank Sinatra, Billy Eckstine, Jack Jones, Les Paul & Mary Ford, Perry Como, Nat King Cole, Tony Bennett, Vic Damone, Dick Haymes, Judy Garland, Francis Langford and Jo Stafford; Andy Russell and Andy Williams; Rosemary Clooney, Maxine Sullivan, Margaret Whiting, Bing Crosby, Dinah Shore, Al Hibbler, Chris Connor and June Christy; Bill Henderson, and Johnny Hartman; Andy Bey and The Bey Sisters, The Andrews Sisters, The McGuire Sisters, The Four Freshman and The Four Lads; The Ames Brothers and The Mills Brothers and The Ink Spots. Learned from them all; sang along and knew every melody and lyric by heart.

I listened all the time and learned everything I know about singing from these instructors.

I guess, when asked if I teach, I might say: "Yes. Everytime I sing".

The Sound of Silence

2007-07-16T17:05:00.000-04:00

Dear Readers: I wish to apologize for the absence of entries in the past few weeks. Health-related problems have consumed my days and nights, but I am persuaded that we will emerge from this thorny patch unscathed and rejuvenated.

I want to explain the events which led to the release of my new cd titled "Dearest Duke", and to thank Ken Peplowski in particular since he was instrumental in bringing the project to life. I will post that yarn in the next few days.

Thank you for your patience.