In 1963, Duke Ellington changed the lives of two young South Africans forever. One of them was the composer/pianist Abdullah Ibrahim, then known as Dollar Brand. The story of Duke’s discovery of this great talent in a Zurich, Switzerland, nightclub, the recording session that he produced in Paris, and the subsequent release Duke Ellington Presents the Dollar Brand Trio is well known.
The world is less familiar with Sathima “Bea” Benjamin, the singer who persuaded Duke to visit that tiny club on a snowy winter's night. She and Ibrahim, her husband-to-be, had fled South Africa in search of freedom and opportunity. They were poor, but they were making music on their own terms. Benjamin's singing impressed Duke deeply, and he recorded her as well as Ibrahim in Paris. Sadly, her effort languished in a vault, until it was finally released to much acclaim as A Morning in Paris in 1996.
A few weeks ago, I spoke with Benjamin, in Cape Town, South Africa, where she has resettled. While we spoke about many things, the story that she told about being discovered by Ellington was especially vivid. She told me that, when Duke arrived in Zurich for a concert she already knew that Frank Sinatra had asked him to recruit new talent for Reprise records. She was determined to get his attention:
“...I don't know how I got backstage. ...there were all these women with their furs. You know, Duke Ellington loved the ladies, and the ladies loved him. So there were a whole lot of rich, elegant Swiss ladies, with their furs and jewels, waiting to get in his dressing room. ...and I'm standing there with my little Salvation Army clothes.... But every time the door would open, he would catch my eye. Then at one point he said, ‘Let her in.’ And there I was in the room. It was a miracle.
"I'm Glad There is You." Sathima Benjamin with Abdullah Ibrahim, piano. Paris, 1963.
"I said if you'd just come with me when the show is over and listen to the Dollar Brand trio, I think you would be very interested. He didn't even ask me at that point what do I do. He said ‘Ok.’
"Afterwards... we get to the club and the owner had the key in the door. Abdullah and [band members] Makaya [Ntshoko] and Johnny [Gertze] were standing outside, and they see me get out of the car with Duke Ellington. Oh, my God! ...So the owner puts the key back in the door and we go in.
"The trio played, and Duke sat there in wonderment. [He] said, ‘Listen. Be at my hotel at 10:30 am.’ We didn't sleep that night. It was February and was snowing. ...We just couldn't believe what happened. [The next day, Ellington arranged for Sathima, Abdullah, and the band to travel to Paris to record for him.]
"...when we got to Paris... they took us to the Champs-Élysées. I have never in my life lived in such a grand hotel. ...I was just amazed at the grandeur of it all. But that's what Ellington did. [At the Barclay studios], Ellington came in with little Billy Strayhorn. And he aid, ‘Strays... this is Bea. I think the two of you can do wonderful things.’ And Strayhorn sits there, he has his big glass of champagne and his cigar. He says, ‘What are we going to do?’ Instead of me coming up with an Ellington song, I said I'm going to sing ‘A Nightingale Sang in Berkeley Square.’
"Solitude." Sathima Benjamin with Duke Ellington, piano. Paris, 1963.
"Then Ellington said sing with the trio... When I started to sing ‘I Got It Bad,’ he ran out of the booth. He said, ‘Get off of the piano,’ to Abdullah. ‘This is my song.’ I thought, ‘Oh, first it was Strayhorn, now here's Ellington. I can either drop dead now or sing like I never sang before.’ And I know I sang like I never sang before.
"A little later I sang ‘Solitude’ for the very first time. And ever since that time, when it comes time to do ‘Solitude’ in a show, I tell the pianists ‘No, no, no.’ They tell me that I don't have to sing it alone. I say, ‘I'm not singing it alone. I'm hearing Ellington accompanying me. I'm not alone. ...Ellington is here with me.’" [Yes, she's talking about the recording directly above.]
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This interview also appears in the June 2012 issue of Ellingtonia, the publication of the Duke Ellington Society. I'm very grateful to Miss Benjamin for giving me several hours of her time.
November the 29th is the birthday of one of my favorite composers, somebody that I'd argue ranks among the finest composers America has ever produced -- Billy Strayhorn. His songs -- "Lush Life," "Chelsea Bridge," "Day Dream," "Something to Live For," and many more -- are daringly complex, both musically and emotionally, but they're never forced or artificial.
Strayhorn is best know for his long collaboration with Duke Ellington (who is to jazz composers as Shakespeare is to playwrights) on everything from popular songs to movie scores to extended orchestral works. He was so much a part of Ellington's musical life that, in his memoir, Music is My Mistress, Ellington called him "my right arm, my left arm... the eyes in the back of my head." Strayhorn's composition "Take the 'A' Train" became the Ellington Orchestra's theme song and its greatest hit. (It's the first music you'll hear in the video clip below.)
Strayhorn grew up in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania, and, appropriately enough, the photo above was made by Charles "Teenie" Harris, who chronicled African-American life in Pittsburgh from the 1930s to the 1970s. Now, over a decade after his death, Harris's work is being rediscovered. He left behind a magnificent archive, and much of it is now on display in a major exhibition at Pittsburgh's Carnegie Museum of Art.
This video can serve as a quick introduction to Strayhorn. It's a clip from a terrific documentary about him that aired on PBS, a few years back.
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Earlier this month, I reviewed Terell Stafford's fine new CD of Strayhorn's music for Ellingtonia, the publication of the Duke Ellington Society. I won't ask you to read the review, but if you click here and scroll down, you'll discover a video of Stafford and his quintet playing a joyful version of Stayhorn's "Johnny Come Lately."
Long ago, in a land far, far away, few musicians were as shrouded in myth as Billy Strayhorn. He was the tortured soul who wrote "Lush Life," the booze-soaked anthem of loneliness and despair, and the talented but ultimately minor satellite that orbited around Duke Ellington's radiant genius.
Over the last ten or fifteen years, that mythical Billy Strayhorn has all but disappeared. David Hadju's Lush Life: A Biography of Billy Strayhorn, and Walter van de Leur's rigorous study, Something to Live For: The Music of Billy Strayhorn, deepened our understanding of Strayhorn, the man and the composer. Albums by artists such as Joe Henderson, Fred Hersch, Don Braden and Mark Rapp, and the Dutch Jazz Orchestra have opened our ears to the richness and diversity of his output. The man that Wynton Marsalis once called him "a Duke Jr. of sorts" (a remark that no doubt embarrasses him today) has emerged as one of the true giants of twentieth-century music.
Unencumbered by the need to shatter myths or prove a point, Terell Stafford's new CD, This Side of Strayhorn, is a joyful, swinging celebration of Strayhorn's music, ranging from standards, such as "Raincheck" and "U.M.M.G." to rarely heard gems, like "Smada" and "Lana Turner."
This is very much Stafford's album. Even though he's a generous leader, allowing other members of the quintet ample room to solo, he and his trumpet or flugelhorn set the mood on most of the songs. Pianist Bruce Barth's charts are respectful and understated without being simplistic. Neither he nor Stafford sets out to reinvent the wheel. Nothing on the album would surprise Strayhorn, but all of it would probably delight him.
The CD opens with a sunny, up-tempo reading of "Raincheck." Stafford's formidable, fluid chops are immediately on display, as is his fine musical taste. Peter Washington's contributes a singing, melodic bass solo that's a model of concision and expression.
The band delivers a gently Latin take on "Smada," before moving on to "My Little Brown Book," a small masterpiece unto itself. Stafford's muted trumpet and the buttery, Websterian sound of Tim Warfield's tenor conjure up the bluesy feel of Ellington's great bands of the '30s and '40s. Especially in the lower range, Warfield's tone has the warmth and power of a lion's purr. Given enough space, which he has on "Multicolored Blue," it envelops you like a fat lover on a cold night.
"Johnny Come Lately," from Terell Stafford's This Side of Strayhorn.
Stafford is reflective, but not sentimental, as he plays "Lush Life's" melody over quiet chords from Barth's piano. Barth takes the first solo and brightens the mood, banishing all thought of late nights and stale drinks. Stafford then solos in a similar vein, until he ends the tune in the same contemplative mood with which he started. It's an unconventional reading of "Lush Life," and it's utterly convincing.
Other highlights include an appropriately sultry reading of "Lana Turner" and an exuberant, bop-inflected account of "Johnny Come Lately." The latter tune features strong, athletic solos from Barth and drummer Dana Hall and brings the album to a close.
There's an understated elegance -- a kind of restraint -- to all these performances, even when the band is stompin' the blues. I'm sure that I'll be coming back to it for many years to come. Highly recommended.
PS I'd be remiss if I didn't mention the photos that accompany the CD. They're by Jimmy Ryan, and they're gorgeous.
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Terrell Stafford, This Side of Strayhorn, MaxJazz MXJ 408: Terell Stafford, trumpet and flugelhorn; Tim Warfield, soprano and tenor sax; Bruce Barth, piano; Peter Washington, bass; Dana Hall, drums.
Another version of this review will appear in Ellingtonia, the journal of the Duke Ellington Society.
In its annual jazz critics poll, Downbeat magazine always has a category that it calls "Talent Deserving of Wider Recognition [TDWR]." The winners are accomplished, often brilliant musicians, who are flying under the radar.
Billy Strayhorn never won a TDWR award, but, over forty years after his death, he still deserves one.
I realize that's a pretty strong claim. After all, during his long association with the Duke Ellington Orchestra, Strayhorn was widely admired as one of the finest composers and arrangers in jazz. His songs -- "Lush Life," "Chelsea Bridge," "Day Dream," "Something to Live For," and many more -- were daringly complex, musically and emotionally, but they never sounded forced or artificial. His composition "Take the 'A' Train" became the Ellington Orchestra's theme song, its greatest hit, and, as David Hajdu puts it, "a leitmotif" of the entire swing era.
Strayhorn's collaboration with Ellington (who is to jazz composers as Shakespeare is to playwrights) on everything from popular songs to extended orchestral works was so important that in his memoir, Music is My Mistress, Ellington called him "my right arm, my left arm, all the eyes in the back of my head, my brainwaves in his head, and his in mine."
Given all that, it's reasonable for you to wonder why in the world Strayhorn deserves wider recognition. It's because he was, in fact, much more than Ellington's arms, eyes, and brainwaves.
In the last 15 years or so, there's been a flowering of writing and scholarship devoted to Strayhorn. The two most important studies have been Hajdu's compelling Lush Life: A Biography of Billy Strayhorn, and musicologist Walter van de Leur's rigorous examination, Something to Live For: The Music of Billy Strayhorn. Both books demonstrate that he composed much more music (enduringly beautiful music) than most people imagined -- songs, extended jazz works, concert music, film scores, and Broadway shows.
The extent of his achievement wasn't recognized for two reasons: some of his output was incorrectly credited to Ellington, and, more importantly, he willing lived in Ellington's shadow.
Billy Strayhorn, playing his own composition, "Chelsea Bridge." Recorded in Paris, May 1961.
Hajdu argues convincingly that Strayhorn generally (although not always) accepted the anonymity and misattributions as the price that he had to pay to live as an openly gay man in mid-twentieth-century America. His determination not to hide his sexuality was a rare choice, in the nation as a whole and within the macho, homophobic sub-culture of jazz.
Ellington, however, was an exception to the rule. Fully aware that Strayhorn was gay, he nevertheless offered him both acceptance and support. A closeted jazz musician who knew Strayhorn well told Hajdu that "For those of us who were both black and homosexual in that time, acceptance was of paramount importance, absolutely paramount importance. Duke Ellington afforded Billy Strayhorn that acceptance. That was something that cannot be undervalued or under-appreciated. To Billy, that was gold."
Working in Ellington's shadow, Hajdu concludes, gave Strayhorn the two things he wanted the most, "a high-profile outlet for his artistry, as well as... emotional support."
Although Strayhorn and Ellington worked together closely, for many years, sharing a musical and spiritual bond, they were not simply collaborators. They were two distinct musical giants. Van de Leur's intense scrutiny of autograph scores in the Ellington and Strayhorn archives has shown that...
...Strayhorn created a separate musical entity within the realm of Ellingtonia, employing an original and sophisticated musical vocabulary that drew from a different hormonic, rhythmic, and melodic source. His compositions opened new vistas... as he infused developmental techniques typically associated with European art music into an African-American idiom.
William Thomas "Billy" Strayhorn, born in Dayton, Ohio, on this day in 1915.
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Any number of fine CDs and downloads of Strayhorn's music are available. I'd start with Lush Life, an album session that Strayhorn himself led a couple of years before his death, in 1967, and the Ellington Orchestra's moving elegy His Mother Called Him Bill. Fred Hersch's Passion Flower and Joe Henderson's Lush Life: Music of Billy Strayhorn are more recent loving tributes from masterful musicians. My current favorite is Don Braden and Mark Rapp's The Strayhorn Project, which I reviewed here.
PS, 3 December 2010: Over the last few days, I've spent a lot of time listening to Passion Flower, the Fred Hersch CD that I mentioned above. It's been nice to be reminded how beautiful his interpretation of Strayhorn's music truly is.
PPS, 8 December 2010: Still listening to Strays. This evening's entertainment has been a terrific CD by the Dutch Jazz Orchestra -- Portrait of a Silk Thread: Newly Discovered Works of Billy Strayhorn. As the title suggests, these pieces were rarely, if ever, heard during his lifetime. According to the liner notes by Walter van de Leur (the same guy that I mentioned above), Strayhorn wrote so much that it was "more than the Ellington Orchestra could handle, especially since Duke himself composed incessantly. Choices had to be made and thus many pieces fell by the wayside...." Fortunately, the scores were preserved, waiting for van de Leur to discover them in various archives. The music on the CD is astonishingly beautiful, with the understated complexity and sophistication that was Strayhorn's hallmark. I first heard this recording when it was released about 15 years ago. I liked then, but I'm really loving it now.
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