Six Minutes With Satch: Keepin' Out of Mischief Now / Lawd You Made the Night Too Long
It's the end of an era: Louis Armstrong's last OKeh single! I don't know how long this series will go on for but I'm thrilled I got through these because this 1929-1932 OKeh run is magical. Then again, so is the 1925-1928 OKeh Hot Five/Sevens run. Oh, and don't forget the 1923-1925 Louis the sideman/King Oliver/Bessie Smith/Clarence Williams run, too. Yeah, can't go wrong with Louis and OKeh!
It was fitting that one of the sides on the final single was written by Armstrong's friends Andy Razaf and Fats Waller, who had already contributed "Black and Blue," "Blue Turning Grey Over You," "That Rhythm Man," "Sweet Savannah Sue" and the song that made Louis a star, "Ain't Misbehavin'." When they penned something of a sequel, titled "Keepin' Out of Mischief Now," it made sense for them to present it to Louis. Interestingly, I just tried to find some other versions of the song from this period as I always love to compare what Louis was doing with what else was going on in the popular music world. But this time, I couldn't find anything! I've always thought of the song as something of standard. But really, it doesn't seem to have inspired many recordings in the early days. Fats Waller himself didn't record it until his solo piano version of 1937. Tommy Dorsey and Lee Wiley recorded versions in the 1930s and 40s but really, that's pretty much all I can find. Oh well, at least we have Louis's fine recording.
Louis and the band start right out with an introduction made up of the last four bars of the melody, Louis handling the lead with the reeds doubling it with their trademark intonation (you be the judge if this is a good or bad thing). Louis gives himself some breaks to trot out some very nimble double-timed phrases before leading the troops through the song's rarely heard verse, the group swinging in their slightly ragged, yet foot-tapping style. The saxes get a little loud in the mix (intonation!) before Louis finally gets to the song's main, atypical 20-bar melody. He plays it fairly straight, relaxed and swinging with little changes in the phrasing as he goes on. He passes the ball to the alto saxophone of Lester Boone, who takes off in precisely the opposite manner of Louis: not relaxed, herky-jerky, full of double-timing that doesn't mean much, etc. Not awful, but not one of my favorite sideman solos.
But then it's time for Louis's vocal, which is completely charming. There's a little slight hesitation here and there that makes me think he really must have picked up this song for the first time at this session. But he completely sells the sentiment of it and really starts swinging like hell towards the end (from the giant "Oh baby" onward). A beautiful vocal.
Then the tenor saxophone of Albert Washington creeps in on a wrong note before he puts together some puttering ideas. Louis then rises out of the ashes with a giant gliss and some passionate playing. Washington trades another four with him but is further buried with an even bigger gliss and some melodic playing an octave. Washington and Louis trade mild-mannered two's to end the chorus and then it's time for "every tub" to take the tune out, Louis playing lead with the section and also improvising some more scorching lines (with, yes, yet another gliss at one point). Midway through, he breaks free and comes up with a line that, to my ears, would morph into Hoagy Carmichael's composition "Judy" a few years later. And while I've been teasing the reeds a bit, I do like this rhythm section; hear bassist percussive double-timing as Louis heads to the final eight bars. Louis's playing is very relaxed, yet powerful; I wish he played for himself throughout. But interestingly, even when he plays with the sections, he still sounds like he's improvising because Zilner Randolph's arrangement is made up mostly of Armstrong licks. One more dash upward and Louis ends with a full, lush high note.
"Keepin' Out of Mischief Now" has some great moments but I don't know, I wouldn't rate it as a classic of classics, I guess because the band sounds pretty rough in spots. Personally, I've always been much more satisfied with the 1955 remake on the album "Satch Plays Fats."
But when it comes to the final tune recorded on March 11, 1932, there's no denying that it's an all-time classic: "Lawd You Made the Night Too Long." Oh man, I just got excited typing that title! The song itself was written by Sam Lewis and Joe Young, the team behind "Dinah." Louis wasn't the first to record it, but he was close; 10 days earlier, pianist Russ Carlson recorded it for Crown Records with a vocal by Dick Robertson and some nice muted trumpet playing possibly by Mannie Klein. If you know Louis's version, this should come as a surprise because they play the same arrangement. Check it out:
I mean, it's identical. Zilner Randolph must have gotten a copy of the stock and just tweaked it to serve Pops, but otherwise, it's the same (even the same key). But what Louis does on top of it....well, all due respect to Carlson's crew, but this is the work of a genius.
Over the opening descending minor-keyed vamp, Louis shouts "Hallelujah" over and over, setting something of an ominous mood. Like the Carlson version, Louis take the melody in sober fashion, hitting upon a two-note clarion call of sorts that he repeats a few times, eventually setting his focus directly on the second note--a concert A--which he works over and over, giving it different inflections each time. He continues the low-key playing throughout his bridge, getting in a passionate trademark lick before going low to end his spot. Just an excellent reading of a melody, something that's harder than it sounds.
The reeds come in to take the final eight-bars, Lester Boone's alto once again out front, but the overall section giving a hint of the Guy Lombardo sound that Louis loved so much. (Speaking of Lombardo, Guy eventually recorded this song with his Royal Canadians for Brunswick on April 7, 1932, less than a month after Louis's version. It's on YouTube if you dare.)
After the reed interlude, it's time for a masterful vocal by The Man. I actually like Dick Robertson's vocal on the Carlson version but wow, Louis was in another universe during this time. He's so soulful throughout this outing, which also has some trumpet-like moments: Louis holds the first titular "long" as he would hold a high note, and even bends it to a higher note that would sound perfectly natural on his trumpet; there's a little triplet twist on the word "spring" that comes from Louis's instrumental conception; after singing the next phrase all on one pitch, he goes up for the word "song" and slides down like a gliss, etc.
The bridge is interesting; compared to the vocals on the Carlson and Lombardo versions, Louis starts his phrases a little late, perhaps due to unfamiliarity with the lyric, but he pulls it off, gradually building his emotions to a crazy level as he shouts, "What good is a heart and what good is a cabin" as if he's trying to get the good lord (lawd?) to hear him directly. Can't picture Robertson pulling that one off...
After ending the bridge on another falling vocal gliss, Louis continues his dramatic recasting of the melody but singing the next lines on a single pitch, completely leaving the written notes behind (much as he did on Young and Lewis's "Dinah"....I wonder if they appreciated the liberties he took with their songs?). I love Louis's pronunciation--and emphasis--on the word "earth" as "oy-th" before the gorgeous way he sings, "but who am I to say you're wrong." When he gets to the final reading of the title, his passion is positively jumping out of the record. I've said this before and I'll say it again; yes, Louis wrote the book on jazz singing but there wouldn't be any soul/R&B singing without him either.
He ends the vocal with such a flourish, picked up by the urgent descending vamp again, that I almost feel my heart racing before he even picks up that little Selmer trumpet; what is about to happen is going to be special. And naturally, it is! A master of the entrance, Louis enters with the most swinging goddamned phrasing imaginable (sorry, I'm getting worked up now!). He enters so simply with two notes, places three quarter notes, pauses and hits another one. It could not be any more simper on paper but he places each one so perfectly, he is giving anyone with working hears and aural definition of swing. He follows that with space, always a good thing, but more preaching. Up to this point, he's been pretty mournful but then it's time to turn up the head.
And how does he do it? With the break to end all breaks. I know that I've been harsh on Gunther Schuller in the past, both on this blog and in my book. Let's face it: Schuller and I will never see eye-to-eye on the last 30 years of Armstrong's career. But when he's right, he's right. I can get myself into a fervor trying to describe this break but I'll let Schuller take the lead, as seen in "The Swing Era": "Again, there is a break which must be heard to [be] believed. It is virtually unnotatable, not only rhythmically but also because it features a little trick Louis had been working up over the last year of embellishing notes with tiny grace-note scoops from below. This effect is technically extremely difficult to manage, even in moderately paced passages. In the 'Lawd' break, Louis unleashes a veritable cascade of these flip-floppy scooped notes, in a clear attempt to break beyond the boundaries of even his own formidable technique and conception." To that, all I can say is yeah, man....
But even after that spellbinding break, Armstrong isn't done yet. He sounds like he knocked himself out, too, for a moment as his playing grows quieter for a few bars....until he shatters the proceedings with a stirring rip into the stratosphere. From there, he takes us to end with some more swinging quarter notes and blues-drenched playing, ending up where we started with that descending vamp. Armstrong fills in the gaps of the vamp until the band finally holds a chord, allowing Louis to play a sure-footed, beautiful cadenza ending up high. Bravo, Pops.
What Louis Armstrong did for OKeh between 192e and 1932 is one of the great artist-and-label runs in music history. And as the music discussed in today's entry proves, Louis went out on top--with a high note, natch.
LOUIS ARMSTRONG AND HIS ORCHESTRA
Louis Armstrong (tp, voc), Zilner Randolph (tp), Preston Jackson (tb), Lester Boone (as), George James (as), Albert Washington (ts), Charlie Alexander (p), Mike McKendrick (g), John Lindsay (b), Tubby Hall (d).
OKeh recording session - Chicago, IL March 11, 1932
LOUIS ARMSTRONG AND HIS ORCHESTRA
Louis Armstrong (tp, voc), Zilner Randolph (tp), Preston Jackson (tb), Lester Boone (as), George James (as), Albert Washington (ts), Charlie Alexander (p), Mike McKendrick (g), John Lindsay (b), Tubby Hall (d).
OKeh recording session - Chicago, IL March 11, 1932
YouTube links:
It was fitting that one of the sides on the final single was written by Armstrong's friends Andy Razaf and Fats Waller, who had already contributed "Black and Blue," "Blue Turning Grey Over You," "That Rhythm Man," "Sweet Savannah Sue" and the song that made Louis a star, "Ain't Misbehavin'." When they penned something of a sequel, titled "Keepin' Out of Mischief Now," it made sense for them to present it to Louis. Interestingly, I just tried to find some other versions of the song from this period as I always love to compare what Louis was doing with what else was going on in the popular music world. But this time, I couldn't find anything! I've always thought of the song as something of standard. But really, it doesn't seem to have inspired many recordings in the early days. Fats Waller himself didn't record it until his solo piano version of 1937. Tommy Dorsey and Lee Wiley recorded versions in the 1930s and 40s but really, that's pretty much all I can find. Oh well, at least we have Louis's fine recording.
Louis and the band start right out with an introduction made up of the last four bars of the melody, Louis handling the lead with the reeds doubling it with their trademark intonation (you be the judge if this is a good or bad thing). Louis gives himself some breaks to trot out some very nimble double-timed phrases before leading the troops through the song's rarely heard verse, the group swinging in their slightly ragged, yet foot-tapping style. The saxes get a little loud in the mix (intonation!) before Louis finally gets to the song's main, atypical 20-bar melody. He plays it fairly straight, relaxed and swinging with little changes in the phrasing as he goes on. He passes the ball to the alto saxophone of Lester Boone, who takes off in precisely the opposite manner of Louis: not relaxed, herky-jerky, full of double-timing that doesn't mean much, etc. Not awful, but not one of my favorite sideman solos.
But then it's time for Louis's vocal, which is completely charming. There's a little slight hesitation here and there that makes me think he really must have picked up this song for the first time at this session. But he completely sells the sentiment of it and really starts swinging like hell towards the end (from the giant "Oh baby" onward). A beautiful vocal.
Then the tenor saxophone of Albert Washington creeps in on a wrong note before he puts together some puttering ideas. Louis then rises out of the ashes with a giant gliss and some passionate playing. Washington trades another four with him but is further buried with an even bigger gliss and some melodic playing an octave. Washington and Louis trade mild-mannered two's to end the chorus and then it's time for "every tub" to take the tune out, Louis playing lead with the section and also improvising some more scorching lines (with, yes, yet another gliss at one point). Midway through, he breaks free and comes up with a line that, to my ears, would morph into Hoagy Carmichael's composition "Judy" a few years later. And while I've been teasing the reeds a bit, I do like this rhythm section; hear bassist percussive double-timing as Louis heads to the final eight bars. Louis's playing is very relaxed, yet powerful; I wish he played for himself throughout. But interestingly, even when he plays with the sections, he still sounds like he's improvising because Zilner Randolph's arrangement is made up mostly of Armstrong licks. One more dash upward and Louis ends with a full, lush high note.
"Keepin' Out of Mischief Now" has some great moments but I don't know, I wouldn't rate it as a classic of classics, I guess because the band sounds pretty rough in spots. Personally, I've always been much more satisfied with the 1955 remake on the album "Satch Plays Fats."
But when it comes to the final tune recorded on March 11, 1932, there's no denying that it's an all-time classic: "Lawd You Made the Night Too Long." Oh man, I just got excited typing that title! The song itself was written by Sam Lewis and Joe Young, the team behind "Dinah." Louis wasn't the first to record it, but he was close; 10 days earlier, pianist Russ Carlson recorded it for Crown Records with a vocal by Dick Robertson and some nice muted trumpet playing possibly by Mannie Klein. If you know Louis's version, this should come as a surprise because they play the same arrangement. Check it out:
I mean, it's identical. Zilner Randolph must have gotten a copy of the stock and just tweaked it to serve Pops, but otherwise, it's the same (even the same key). But what Louis does on top of it....well, all due respect to Carlson's crew, but this is the work of a genius.
Over the opening descending minor-keyed vamp, Louis shouts "Hallelujah" over and over, setting something of an ominous mood. Like the Carlson version, Louis take the melody in sober fashion, hitting upon a two-note clarion call of sorts that he repeats a few times, eventually setting his focus directly on the second note--a concert A--which he works over and over, giving it different inflections each time. He continues the low-key playing throughout his bridge, getting in a passionate trademark lick before going low to end his spot. Just an excellent reading of a melody, something that's harder than it sounds.
The reeds come in to take the final eight-bars, Lester Boone's alto once again out front, but the overall section giving a hint of the Guy Lombardo sound that Louis loved so much. (Speaking of Lombardo, Guy eventually recorded this song with his Royal Canadians for Brunswick on April 7, 1932, less than a month after Louis's version. It's on YouTube if you dare.)
After the reed interlude, it's time for a masterful vocal by The Man. I actually like Dick Robertson's vocal on the Carlson version but wow, Louis was in another universe during this time. He's so soulful throughout this outing, which also has some trumpet-like moments: Louis holds the first titular "long" as he would hold a high note, and even bends it to a higher note that would sound perfectly natural on his trumpet; there's a little triplet twist on the word "spring" that comes from Louis's instrumental conception; after singing the next phrase all on one pitch, he goes up for the word "song" and slides down like a gliss, etc.
The bridge is interesting; compared to the vocals on the Carlson and Lombardo versions, Louis starts his phrases a little late, perhaps due to unfamiliarity with the lyric, but he pulls it off, gradually building his emotions to a crazy level as he shouts, "What good is a heart and what good is a cabin" as if he's trying to get the good lord (lawd?) to hear him directly. Can't picture Robertson pulling that one off...
After ending the bridge on another falling vocal gliss, Louis continues his dramatic recasting of the melody but singing the next lines on a single pitch, completely leaving the written notes behind (much as he did on Young and Lewis's "Dinah"....I wonder if they appreciated the liberties he took with their songs?). I love Louis's pronunciation--and emphasis--on the word "earth" as "oy-th" before the gorgeous way he sings, "but who am I to say you're wrong." When he gets to the final reading of the title, his passion is positively jumping out of the record. I've said this before and I'll say it again; yes, Louis wrote the book on jazz singing but there wouldn't be any soul/R&B singing without him either.
He ends the vocal with such a flourish, picked up by the urgent descending vamp again, that I almost feel my heart racing before he even picks up that little Selmer trumpet; what is about to happen is going to be special. And naturally, it is! A master of the entrance, Louis enters with the most swinging goddamned phrasing imaginable (sorry, I'm getting worked up now!). He enters so simply with two notes, places three quarter notes, pauses and hits another one. It could not be any more simper on paper but he places each one so perfectly, he is giving anyone with working hears and aural definition of swing. He follows that with space, always a good thing, but more preaching. Up to this point, he's been pretty mournful but then it's time to turn up the head.
And how does he do it? With the break to end all breaks. I know that I've been harsh on Gunther Schuller in the past, both on this blog and in my book. Let's face it: Schuller and I will never see eye-to-eye on the last 30 years of Armstrong's career. But when he's right, he's right. I can get myself into a fervor trying to describe this break but I'll let Schuller take the lead, as seen in "The Swing Era": "Again, there is a break which must be heard to [be] believed. It is virtually unnotatable, not only rhythmically but also because it features a little trick Louis had been working up over the last year of embellishing notes with tiny grace-note scoops from below. This effect is technically extremely difficult to manage, even in moderately paced passages. In the 'Lawd' break, Louis unleashes a veritable cascade of these flip-floppy scooped notes, in a clear attempt to break beyond the boundaries of even his own formidable technique and conception." To that, all I can say is yeah, man....
But even after that spellbinding break, Armstrong isn't done yet. He sounds like he knocked himself out, too, for a moment as his playing grows quieter for a few bars....until he shatters the proceedings with a stirring rip into the stratosphere. From there, he takes us to end with some more swinging quarter notes and blues-drenched playing, ending up where we started with that descending vamp. Armstrong fills in the gaps of the vamp until the band finally holds a chord, allowing Louis to play a sure-footed, beautiful cadenza ending up high. Bravo, Pops.
What Louis Armstrong did for OKeh between 192e and 1932 is one of the great artist-and-label runs in music history. And as the music discussed in today's entry proves, Louis went out on top--with a high note, natch.
LOUIS ARMSTRONG AND HIS ORCHESTRA
Louis Armstrong (tp, voc), Zilner Randolph (tp), Preston Jackson (tb), Lester Boone (as), George James (as), Albert Washington (ts), Charlie Alexander (p), Mike McKendrick (g), John Lindsay (b), Tubby Hall (d).
OKeh recording session - Chicago, IL March 11, 1932
LOUIS ARMSTRONG AND HIS ORCHESTRA
Louis Armstrong (tp, voc), Zilner Randolph (tp), Preston Jackson (tb), Lester Boone (as), George James (as), Albert Washington (ts), Charlie Alexander (p), Mike McKendrick (g), John Lindsay (b), Tubby Hall (d).
OKeh recording session - Chicago, IL March 11, 1932
YouTube links:
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