Take Five: Exploring lesser knowns from 'A Great Day in Harlem'

We marvel that the likes of Thelonious Monk, Lester Young, and Dizzy Gillespie were on the stoop together that day. But what about the people whose star has faded?

“Take Five” is posted each Friday, and offers five things I spent some time with over the course of the previous week. No criticism, no in-depth analysis, just a few things I think you might be interested in checking out. When the spirit moves me, I’ll post other things at other times.

After writing last week about the New York Times wonderful interactive story about Art Kane’s 1958 photo of jazz performers, I re-watched the 1994 documentary about the photo, "A Great Day in Harlem," this weekend, and was struck by just how many of the artists I didn't know. Over the past 30 years my knowledge of jazz has expanded enormously, but there are still so many performers who have eluded my attention. I thought I would take some time this week to dive into work by a handful of them.

NOTE: Take Five is taking next week off, but will return with the first Take Five of 2025 on Jan. 3. In the meantime, watch for my favorite books of the year list next week!

1. Vic Dickenson — Gentleman of the Trombone

It felt a bit unique to listen to a record led by a trombone, and then I started thinking about it and realized that plenty come to mind — J.J. Johnson and Kai Winding, Curtis Fuller, Wycliffe Gordon, Steve Turre, Jacob Garchik, and of course Trombone Shorty. Still, it's a much shorter list than for many lead instruments. Perhaps that is why I wasn't familiar with Vic Dickenson. I'm glad to make the discovery. Dickenson was mainly a sideman, but led a few dates over the course of his career.

I still want to track down his earlier work, but Gentleman of the Trombone from 1975 is a good place to start. This feels like it could have been recorded anytime over the previous 30 years. Supported by pianist Johnny Guarnieri, bassist Bill Pemberton, and drummer Oliver Jackson, Dickenson leads his way through a mix of standards and originals, employing the usual growl for which the instrument is best known, but also playing strong melodies with a surprising delicacy. I can skip the perfectly pedestrian vocals on a couple of tracks here, but otherwise this is a highly enjoyable, straight-ahead jazz date.

2. Pee Wee Russell — Ask Me Now!

Unlike the trombone of Vic Dickenson, which simply eluded me, the clarinet of Pee Wee Russell was likely consciously avoided. When given the choice, I prefer the sound of the trumpet or the saxophone. Perhaps this is because of the way the clarinet is deployed, because I associate the instrument with Dixieland or more traditional jazz, which don't excite me the way bop, post-bop and anything beyond it does. But listening to Pee Wee Russell — and I'm cheating, because I picked an album from 1965 that is clearly influenced by then-modern sounds — shows me the clarinet can be used in very pleasing ways. This opens with Ornette Coleman's "Turnaround" and later features tracks by Thelonious Monk and John Coltrane, so Dixieland this is not. This puts me in the mind of my evolution on science fiction. Rather than saying I don’t read it, I’ve taken to stating that I don’t read bad science fiction. Perhaps the same will be said of clarinet-led jazz someday. If so, I’ll have Russell to thank.

3. Stuff Smith — Cat on a Hot Fiddle

Unintentionally, this has become an exercise in exploring non-traditional lead instruments… or at least those that are less prominent. Here we have Smith, who plays the violin. There certainly are plenty of top jazz violinists, past and present — Stéphane Grappelli, Regina Carter, Jenny Scheinman, etc. — but it is not an instrument that is part of much of what I hear. After hearing this, I know I'll be adding more Stuff Smith to my listening. This absolutely swings. It was recorded in 1959, just after the Harlem photo shoot. Smith had been performing for more than two decades at that point, but he was not mired in the past. This had to feel quite modern at the time, as the assembled band worked hard to keep up as he tears his way through tunes like "Take the 'A' Train." As a bonus, this is the recording debut of pianist/vocalist Shirley Horn (who only plays here).

4. Mary Lou Williams — Zodiac Suite

I'm fudging a bit because I've heard of Williams, of course, but wasn't really familiar with her music. Plus, having hopped around from one instrument to another, it seemed fitting to add piano to the mix. I'm glad I did. This suite is fascinating, composed by Williams after she read a book about Zodiac signs. Each of the 12 parts of the suite were written to reflect the traits of that particular sign, with inspiration drawn from artists born during that part of the year (“Leo,” coincidentally enough, was dedicated to Vic Dickenson). About half is solo piano, with the rest either featuring her trio or Williams in tandem with the bass. She performed the suite in various configurations over the years, including with a full symphony orchestra. This stripped-down original version was initially released in two sets, each with six of the tunes, and each set comprising three shellac 78s. It doesn't sound dated, however. Williams's blend of classical composition and jazz phrasing, with greater fidelity, would sound timeless. The pieces — collectively and separately — have been covered and performed many times over the years. Most recently, Aaron Diehl & the Knights Orchestra recorded the suite for a vibrant 2023 release.

5. Osie Johnson — The Happy Jazz of Osie Johnson

Rounding out the instruments of what would be an odd but cooking band, I checked in on drummer Osie Johnson. He was a prolific sideman, playing on more than 600 sessions by some counts, known more for who he played with than for any session he led himself. But those rare sessions are worth tracking down if The Happy Jazz of Osie Johnson is any indication. it is a swinging little session, with a couple heavy hitters like Milt Hinton on bass and Thad Jones on trumpet among the combos represented here. Johnson plays with a light hand where needed, but knows how to drive the beat if it’s required. “Johnson’s Whacks,” a punny little tune, starts with a blast, but then settles into a comfortable lope as Johnson backs the solos, steering with his ride cymbal and a timely tap on the snare. And anyone who knows me is aware I'm not a fan of vocal jazz, but how can I reject Johnson’s clunky but spirited vocals on the swinging "Don't Bug Me, Hug Me"? This, like all of the above albums, is one I plan to return to.

That’s only five, but there are many others who were on the stoop of that brownstone back in 1958 who have escaped my notice. I may indulge in this exercise again sometime soon. If the quality of these previously unknown artists is any indication, I’m in for a treat.