March 22, 2008
I hope you have enjoyed reading the blogs, looking at the pictures, and listening to the audio clips of LACO’s recent European tour as much as I have! It sounds as if the tour was a smashing success, a wonderful exposure for our superb orchestra, and the trip of a lifetime, not only for orchestra members, but also for their families and the patrons who accompanied the orchestra on its journey. Didn’t you enjoy Danielle’s day in Paris, and Marika Munday’s blogs “from a kid’s eye view”?
I think most of us other bloggers have tried to keep a low profile, to avoid competing with all the excitement being reported from Europe. But all good things must come to an end, and the orchestra has returned; I suppose members are settling back into their more mundane routines of daily living. So I, too, must get back to work, exploring the ever-fascinating interface between classical music and jazz, especially as it relates to LACO.
But first, I want to share with you a most frustrating experience we had recently which, fortunately, has a happy ending. Have you ever heard a tune that you know as well as the back of your hand, but which you absolutely cannot identify, only to have it haunt you for days on end? Well, this happened recently to me, and my wife Barbara became just as involved, haunted, and perplexed as I did. Here is the story:
In my role as moderator of the jazz forum at 52nd Street, I belong to a small group of jazz lovers from around the world who engage in a monthly Blindfold Test (BFT). Each month, by predetermined schedule, one member of the group prepares a compilation CD of unidentified music that he then copies and “snail-mails” to each other member of the group. Each member attempts to identify music and performers and posts his comments on the website. When all have contributed their best guesses, the preparer posts the correct answers, and members share their reactions. By then, it is time for another member to prepare and distribute the next month’s offering.
For the month of February, I was able to identify that the 11th (of 14 selections) was a duet by an alto saxophone player and a string bassist on the chord changes of “You Stepped Out of a Dream,” published in 1940 by Nacio Herb Brown, with lyrics by Gus Kahn. At the very beginning of the improvisation, however, and again at the end, the saxophonist quotes a bit of a tune that Barbara and I recognized immediately but could not identify. We pictured that the music was light semi-classical, and we imagined that we had heard it played by an orchestra like the Boston Pops, perhaps in the 1940s or ‘50s. In our “mind’s ear,” we could hear an initial vamp played by pizzicato basses and cellos, and I thought I could even hear the playful, catchy melody played perhaps by a trumpet. We initially suspected that the composer might be someone like Leroy Anderson or Morton Gould.
We sang the snippet of music to a number of our friends, and anyone over the age of 60 recognized it as immediately as we did, but no one had a clue as to the music’s identity. In the process, Alma Vazzana, widow of a member of the USC music faculty, became just as curious, and haunted, as we were. We went to hear legendary jazz pianist Hank Jones in performance at UCLA and, sitting next to vocalist Barbara Morrison, we shared the tune with her: again, recognition, but no identification. She called over friends (saxophonists Plas Johnson and Jackie Kelso), to no avail. We saw musician List Witherill with friends in the lobby at intermission: no luck.
Over the next several days, I ran the snippet past local jazz “disc jockeys” such as Bubba Jackson, Tommy Hawkins, and Helen Borgers, again, to no avail. I expanded the list of potential composers to include (in addition to Leroy Anderson and Morton Gould) David Rose, Victor Young, Gordon Jenkins and Raymond Scott, and began to explore their compositions at websites on the Internet. I found tune samples of all of Leroy Anderson’s compositions, but none of them matched. Although I could not listen to samples of the other composers’ original compositions, none of their titles sounded familiar to me.
Going to iTunes, I found 30 albums of compilations of light classical music. I listened to samples of every tune that had a likely title on each of them, all without success.
Although queried, of course, none of the other BFT participants could identify the mystery tune, either. When the identity of selections and musicians on February’s BFT was posted, I learned that Track #11 was “Dream Stepper” from the album Perfect Circularity (American Jazz Institute, 2007); alto and bass players are Gary Foster and Putter Smith, respectively. From a mutual friend, I got Gary Foster’s e-mail address and wrote him, to see if he knew the name of the tune he had quoted. He replied that he learned “Dream Stepper” from its composer, Lee Konitz, but that Lee had not identified that tune for him.
I discovered a site on the Internet called www.namemytune.com, where one can hum or sing a tune, and hope that other visitors to the site can assist with identification. I sang the snippet and left my identifying information; to date I have not received a response.
Finally, just as we were despairing of ever learning the tune’s identity, I got an e-mail from Roger Crane, the “Song Scout.” (It is my understanding that Roger scouts out new songs for vocalists to include on their new CD releases.) Roger had heard “via the grapevine” that we had a tune that needed identifying, and he volunteered to help. We arranged a time when he and his wife Lynne could be on the line together, and I sang for them the snippet. Again, they immediately recognized the tune but were exasperated that neither could identify it. Lynne in particular vowed to solve the riddle, and she promised me a call back.
Within the hour, Lynne Crane called back with the answer: Morton Gould’s Pavanne from Symphonette No. 2. (I had seen this selection in a list of compositions on the Morton Gould website, but I did not recognize its name.) Among others, Lynne had called vocalist Stephanie Haynes at her home in Las Vegas, and Stephanie knew the tune’s identity.
This particular CD, The Music of Morton Gould, was recorded in 1995 by Jeffrey Silberschlag, trumpet, with the Seattle Symphony Orchestra, conducted by LACO’s former Music Director Gerard Schwartz. (Yes, the “playful, catchy melody” was played by muted trumpet!) You can hear the tune by clicking on the link above and then clicking on “Listen to samples”; it is the first selection.
Interestingly enough, at least one jazz artist has improvised on Gould’s “Pavanne”: In 1989, The Ahmad Jamal Trio recorded it on their album Poinciana. Composers are listed as “M. Gould & G. Shelley.”
So, all’s well that ends well. Barbara and I are getting a good night’s sleep again, and we are at peace, at least until the next unidentified tune comes along…
1 comment
Thank you for this story Bob. I have had my share of sleepless nights over similar situations, but I am deeply impressed by how dedicated you were in finding a resolution to your musical mystery. I'll be sure to contact you the next time I need help identifying a tune.