Editorial - Unearthing Wardell Gray
The joys of discovering something both old and new
For most of the recordings I've worked on over the last few years for Pristine I've had some clue before starting about what I was about to hear. I may not know every piece, every artist or even some of the composers whose music has graced my turntables and tape machines, but I've usually got some general idea of what to expect, and I rarely get caught out.
This week's releases were both previously unknown to me. I played a little Poulenc many years ago as a student of piano but he's not a composer I know well. Likewise the singers and musicians involved in the production of his opera
Dialogue des Carmelites were, by and large, unfamiliar to me. But I had at least heard of Poulenc, the recording came highly recommended, I read the opera's synopsis at Wikipedia, and indeed it was as described, a work which I too felt "contributes to Poulenc's reputation as a composer especially of fine vocal music". If it's unfamiliar to you I'd recommend a listen - I've bundled the first three tracks together into one for our sample download below.
Wardell Gray, on the other hand? Well one way to describe his appearance in my life is to say he's akin to the result of a happy but unplanned pregnancy! I didn't know I had him, I didn't know he existed, but suddenly there he was - as if from nowhere he suddenly appeared! I took him in, cleaned him up a bit, nurtured him with some loving and tender care, and now I've sent him out into the big wide world to see what he could do...
He was tucked away inside a fairly anonymous red box set which may at one point have housed a Jean Fournet set of Debussy's
Pelléas et Mélisande, snuggled up next to three Thelonius Monk LPs. With him was a note from his parents - OK, this analogy is perhaps wearing a little thin now - I mean the front and rear sleeve (they'd separated at some point) of the LPs from which they derived. There was a short and ambiguous sleevenote from legendary Jazz critic Ira Gitler which begins "The death of Wardell Gray has not been completely cleared up, but it is not for us to attempt to solve any mysteries here..." and some track listings for the two LPs which bore little relation to the order in which those tracks actually appeared on the vinyl. (On the label of the second disc someone's also helpfully pencilled in the word "reversed" above the two live tracks - even the label was out of order here.)
My curiosity aroused, I cleaned one of the sides and popped it onto my turntable, hitting the record button on my PC as I did so, then proceeded (as the music began to play) to the Internet to find out more. How ever did I cope in the days before Google and Wikipedia?...
It turned out that Wardell Gray was a very highly regarded saxophonist indeed - many of those who know about him regard his tone as perhaps the best ever - but thanks to his untimely death he's been largely forgotten. It perhaps doesn't help that, like so many others at the time, he fell into a drug habit in the early 1950s which is generally regarded as something which hampered both his playing and his musical imagination. Had a 5-year-younger Miles Davis, similarly struggling with drugs and their adverse effects on his recordings at the time, also died young in the mid-fifties, it's highly unlikely that many would remember him, either.
So we never really got to find out whether Gray was destined for immortality, despite an impeccable pedigree which took in the Earl Hines Orchestra (which had previously nurtured the talents of Charlie Parker and Dizzy Gillespie, among others), an early recording date with Parker himself, regular "tenor duels" with Dexter Gordon, and work in the late 1940s with Benny Goodman and Count Basie, among many others.
Tragically, just as recording sound quality started to improve in the early 1950s, Gray seemed to be heading in the opposite direction, until finally he failed to show up at a gig booked by Benny Carter on 25 May 1955. Wikipedia notes:
The next day he was found on a stretch of desert on the outskirts of Las Vegas dead with a broken neck. Although, by most accounts, there was a poor examination of circumstances, Gray's demise was ruled an accidental death. Foul play was suspected by some...
As I said a moment ago, I hadn't a clue who Wardell Gray was or what he sounded like when I lowered that needle. Wikipedia (again) tells me he was "an American jazz tenor saxophonist who straddled the swing and bebop periods" - but was he any good? Well, in my opinion, yes he was rather good. Good enough for me to want to transfer the other three sides and then remaster them all too, working a bit (quite a lot, actually) of Pristine's XR magic on the thin and harsh sound they offered.
The plan was then simply to save the results into my own digital music collection, there for my own listening pleasure. It was something I'd started on a rainy Sunday afternoon when I had nothing better to do - it wasn't something I'd considered proper "work", though I wanted it to sound as good. But the more I listened, and the more the records jumped into life, the more I started to wonder whether others might like to hear this too?
If nothing else, Wardell Gray might just provide a little light relief from the seemingly endless gloomy economic news we're hearing this Christmas - and in an odd way it ties in rather nicely with something that's coming next week on Pristine - again something that for me was an unknown quantity, even though in this case it follows on directly from one of last week's releases and is this time the result of some enthusiastic lobbying by e-mail - the ballet and Gala Performance from Karajan's 1960
Fledermaus recording.
I'm still not sure what to make of this particular "gala" recording - a sumptuously-boxed set of which arrived this morning from Papageno,
"spécialiste du disque lyrique" in Paris. Amusing as Guilietta Simionato and Ettore Basitanini's rendition of
Anything You Can Do may be, I'm really not sure I want to hear it in the middle of
Die Fledermaus. So a separate release it is then, and hopefully the better for it.
With a duration at around forty minutes, the ballet and gala leaves some space to fill, so off I went on a search for something special to go with it. Back in the late thirties and early forties Karajan made a number of recordings for DGG, and I briefly considered one of the two Mozart symphonies I have here on Siemens pressings from around 1942. But then I hit gold - four recordings of music by a certain Johann Strauss II, each around eight minutes long, and one of which just happens to be the overture to a certain
Die Fledermaus...
The recordings were made between 1940 and 1942 with the Berlin Philharmonic Orchestra, and I'm delighted to report that they're coming up astonishingly well with XR remastering. Right now I'm listening to his 1940 recording of
Künstlerleben, and a delightful and astonishingly vivid recording it is of the then 32-year-old up-and-coming conductor.
Finally this week, if you're so much a fan of these newsletter that you'd like your own copy of the past year's in one handy downloadable PDF file, then look no further!
It's now a year since we began using Constant Contact to distribute our newsletters, and I've collated all of those newsletters - from 3rd December 2010 to 2nd December 2011 - into a single, searchable PDF file, including all the text, graphics and links (and naturally my typing and other mistakes), which is now available on our website.
You can download a copy of it right now if you like - simply
click here and it'll open up in a new window in your browser. A whole year's worth of reviews, new releases and editorials all in one - what more could you possibly ask for?
Oh, OK then, Guilietta Simionato and Ettore Basitanini's rendition of
Anything You Can Do will be along next week!
Andrew Rose
9 December 2011