The Solid Gold Trumpet Of Harry James by Harry James And His Orchestra MGM Records (E4058 / E 4058) Publication date 1962

 ‘here are those who make it and then spend the rest

of their musical lives sleepwalking through ‘a tedi-

ous argument’ of night-after-night replications.

But, not Harry James. Not by a long shot. The

former Thin Man (there was a time when Harry would

have fallen out of William Powell's double-breasted

urghuart plaids) has always liked to solo just beyond

the reach of help. It was this fact that, during the

up-tempo seasons of 1937-1939 when he held court

on the third riser of the Goodman bandstand, caused

James to fall into the fervent embrace of the swing

fans.

Let me try to get my own daguerreotype out into

the light. A warm Saturday evening toward the end

of June, 1937. The fragrance of a slow Ohio spring

still hung in the air. A steady flow of cars stretched

practically from Broad and High Streets in Columbus

to the dyke beyond the parking lot at Valley Dale. It

was the first dance of the season to make use of the

outdoor dance floor and music shell. There was the

Benny Goodman orchestra. And there in my throat

was an idiot constriction that makes my truly happy

moments unbearable. Helen Ward was singing

Robins and Roses when | edged toward the band-

TY

(am fighting a compulsion to elaborate at this

point—but, this is about Harry. Still, before the

jazz historians have permanently fixed the Goodman

legend in amber let me state a simple fact that to

me is plain as the bones | then lived in. Helen was

2s responsible as the great book, the peerless Good.

man clarinet, and the fine soloists for the band's

popularity with the mid-depression college kids.)

‘There was Krupa. Maniacal—then, smiling; and we

all smiled with him. And Allan Reuss. Crew-cut and

shy, his head bent over his guitar. For the first time

| felt a guitar in a big dance band. And Arthur Rollini.

Such relaxed authority. But, above them all, literally,

towered our idol. When Harry James stood up for

his first solo | was afraid something awful was hap:

pening. His cheeks ballooned out in a complete con-

tradiction of accepted technique. Someone near me

said, “They say he'll go crazy doin’ that."’ All night

long those spinnaker cheeks puffed out and forced

a flow of one exciting solo after another. We never

let him stop. Looking back, | have the feeling that

Harry hit for the wall every time up. Energy was the

distinctive idiom of the moment and energy was

Harry's personal diction...

Harry took his trumpet into the shooting gallery

of popular music in the early Thirties. One after an-

other he found the bull's-eyes of the moving targets.

He was the kingpin of the wonderful James-Ziggy

Elman-Chris Griffin trumpet section in the Goodman

band. He took off on his own toward the end of the

swing decade and became an extremely successful

leader-soloist. His trumpet technique gave him a

wider compass than just about any player on the

scene. He dazzled new thousands of fans. But, he

never lost touch with the spirit of jazz. The fire was

always there—under control.

But, in his case, past is prologue. Harry is not a

guy to live in the trophy room. For a number of sea-

sons now he has come swinging out of the West just

as though the word hadn't got through the Don-

ner Pass that the big band is now a museum piece.

He was born not only to play but also to celebrate

good music. Every time out, on a club date, a one-

nighter, a record date, he sends up a happy cheer

for music. You can immediately check out this claim

with a spin of the enclosed studio session, the latest

nf etelak tie WACRE

‘The band is in good form. It swings with supple

grace and roars when muscle is needed to reinforce

a musical point. As you will hear on The Opener, a

curtain-raiser based on a simple up-tempo riff, the

soloists who share stage center with Harry are Willie

Smith (alto sax), Dave Madden (tenor sax), Sam

Firmature (tenor sax), Ray Sims (trombone), and

Jake Hanna (drums).

‘The record is a curious blend of old and new that

somehow: coinies out all. riew. For example. Harry and

Willie Smith return to ph on I'm

Confessin’. On November 1, 1944, th@ first re-

corded their delightful frumpet a sax duet:

with-rhythm version of t #8 Here they

take another swing at od Milections.

Willie comes in at the be§nning of thgsecobd chorus

like a sneaky cat loping CH at news.

The trumpet-alto unison fas Mhepiy bright-

ness that hasn’t faded on§ candlepower.

The Mole revives one of Mdards that

he wrote with Leroy Holmes and first recorded in

1941. Jones Beach is a walking, witty, slow blues

that Quincy Jones wrote a few years ago for a Leon-

ard Feather record date called The Jones Boys. A

Swingin’ Serenade spotlights another of the succes-

sion of outstanding Ernie Wilkins originals that have

made the James book sound like joy in the backroom.

Lush Lite Is a coloristic exercise, an appropriate

treatment for Billy Strayhorn's orchestral classic.

The deep voicings on this piece are marvelously real-

ized in MGM's full-dynamics engineering. In another

thrice-around, the band shows its good, clean en-

semble on Sy Oliver's Opus No. 1. Autumn Leaves

showcases Harry's ballad horn and Serenade in

Blue nods to the Forties when this tune was a big

band favorite.

Allin all a handsome celebration of Harry James's

favorite subject: good music. | wish | could find the

voice in the crowd that night at Valley Dale in 1937.

I'd just like to set his mind at rest. Harry never went

crazy—but he did leave the rest of us happily daft.

James |. Maher

rrocuced by Jesse Kaye

Engineer: Al Schmitt