Post 589: THE DEW DROP HALL - THE OLDEST SURVIVING VENUE

I have written about the Dew Drop Hall before. But it is such an important building in the history of traditional jazz that - for the benefit of newcomers - I think it is worth writing about again.

The Dew Drop Hall
April 2015

For me the ambition to see The Dew Drop Hall started when I read that Marla Dixon's Shotgun Jazz Band played there on 7th November, 2014. That was what prompted me to find out more about this important jazz venue. It must have been a great thrill for Marla and her team to play in this very spot, among the spirits of so many of the Greats who performed there one hundred years earlier.

So let me tell you about this truly legendary old building that is one of the most important venues in the history of traditional jazz. It's the oldest surviving building in the world in which jazz was played in the earliest years of its development; and traditional jazz is again being played there today. I'm referring to the The Dew Drop Dance and Social Hall, which is situated at 430 Lamarque Street in Old Mandeville, Louisiana.

A great thrill for me was finally setting foot in The Dew Drop Hall in April 2015, when I was in New Orleans for the French Quarter Festival.

The story of the Hall begins on 5 May 1885, when local African Americans created The Dew Drop Social and Benevolent Association - aiming to provide help to the sick and the needy.

The Association built the hall from cypress timber nine years later - and opened it in 1895. Its foundations were simple brick piers (a wise choice for flood protection at the time). The pier at the front on the left still bears the original inscription (now barely legible).

It commemorates the founding of the Dew Drop Social and Benevolent Society No. 2 of Mandeville on May 5th, 1885, and the construction of the building in 1895, along with the names of the building committee.

The walls were covered with weather-boards at the front, and batten on the sides and rear; and they were originally painted green. The carpenters created the large wooden double-door at the front gable end, and a smaller door on the right at the back. There was an open beam ceiling. It was essentially a one-room structure, available for meetings, celebrations, vaudeville, dances and so on. It became the centre of social life.

The dais (mainly used as a bandstand) at the far end was typical of the time - with a wooden banister front opening in two places for the steps. The original dais was small (the part behind the banister on the left) but it was later extended to what we see in the picture above. The hall was built without electricity - or plumbing - or even glass: the 'windows' were simply openings measuring 6 feet high by 4 feet wide. They were normally covered by wooden shutters. These windows must have helped keep the band and audience cool on humid evenings.

Lamarque Street is to this day a quiet sparsely-populated, leafy, narrow road.

But where exactly is it? Answer: about 35 miles north of The French Quarter in New Orleans. It's where I've put the red dot at the centre top of this Google Map, very close to the north shore of Lake Pontchartrain.

From the earliest days, musicians started to cross the lake by steamboat to play for Saturday night dances in the Hall.

There were three landing-places for the boats on the shoreline - from east to west the Camellia Landing (destroyed by fire in 1912), the St. Tammany Pier (destroyed by fire in 1926), and the Lewisburg Landing (at the Lewis Plantation). The bands brought plenty of fans with them: Mandeville was considered a fashionable resort. It had several bands playing in various venues, including pavilions, the hotels and local park.

Pretty well all the famous early jazz musicians played at The Dew Drop Hall. Buddy Petit, Bunk Johnson, Kid Ory, Tommy Ladnier, Louis Armstrong, Papa Celestin, Sam Morgan, Chester Zardis and George Lewis were among them. Local man Isidore Fritz - according to such witnesses as George Lewis one of the best jazz clarinet players of all time - was a regular there, leading The Independence Band, which was hugely popular. He had Tommy Ladnier on trumpet and Edmond Hall on clarinet. Isidore's two brothers also played. What a pity the band was never recorded (or even photographed, it seems). Fritz was unwilling to cross the Lake to play in New Orleans. Why? Because he was doing very nicely in Mandeville and also had a family building business there. Fritz died in 1940.

Lillian, the wife of banjo-player Buddy Manaday (of Buddy Petit's Band) later recalled that white people as well as black attended and they all got along well together. Petit's Band, by the way, played at many venues in the  region - including at Bogalusa, Pensacola and Moss Point.

By the 1920s and 1930s, the Hall was a major centre for jazz concerts. Wooden benches provided limited and basic seating for about 100 people.

But - how sad! - as fashions and customs changed, the young were no longer interested, the Dew Drop Association ceased to exist and the Hall was virtually abandoned in the mid-1940s. This state of affairs continued for about half a century.

What amazing luck that nobody knocked the building down! All the other similar dance halls of its era were demolished or changed hands and acquired new uses or (like The Sons and Daughters Hall - also in Mandeville, on Lake Shore Drive) burned down.

The overgrown plot was bought at auction in 1993 by Jacqueline 'Jinx' Vidrine. She might have been expected to demolish the building and erect a modern house there; but she was a jazz enthusiast and knew what she was doing. She cleared the plot and investigated the building. She even found an old upright piano inside.

Jacqueline dreamed of re-opening the Hall as a jazz venue or museum. After some years, she managed to get the local Parks Service interested. By 1999, a first concert was possible! Mayor Eddie Price and the Mandeville Council recognised the importance of the property and bought the plot of land from Jacqueline. She herself donated the Hall to the community. Funds had been raised, including donations from the English. 

There had been a plan to transport the Hall to a site in Louis Armstrong Park, New Orleans. But the Mayor of Mandeville was easily convinced that the Hall should stay where it was. In 2001 the Hall was placed on the National Register of Historic Places. The 'official' re-opening was on 5 May, 2002. In 2006, two members of the Mandeville City Council led a campaign to create The Friends of Dew Drop - a non-profit organisation. There had to be a little refurbishment (at a cost of about 25,000 dollars), but they ensured it was entirely sympathetic with the original design of the Hall. Here is how the Hall looked in Lamarque Street when I visited. Note the (inevitably moss-covered) tree in front of it.

Concerts featuring the best of local musicians are now put on fortnightly in the Spring and Autumn. There are string bands, jug bands and various similar groups as well as traditional jazz bands.

The band performing when I was there included the great Gregg Stafford and Michael White and the outstanding young bass player Tyler Thomson.

There was even a brolly parade.

Just inside the entrance door

I'm thrilled to say that 'Jinx' is still very much involved in helping with activities at the Hall. She was there and I had the honour of being introduced to her.

Jacqueline Vidrine -
the driving force in preserving the Hall

If you go to The Dew Drop, you have a choice between standing, or arriving early to secure one of those wooden seats, or (bringing your picnic chairs) listening from outside to the wonderful music drifting through the large open windows (three on each side). Good Louisiana food is usually on sale outside the Hall, as it was in the earliest days.

The Shotgun Jazz Band
performing there in 2014

By the way, you may care to watch a video I made about The Dew Drop:
CLICK HERE.
Three days after the Gregg Stafford concert, the great Tuba Skinny played at The Dew Drop Hall. A video showing one of the tunes they played can be seen by clicking on here.

And for a much more recent video of Tuba Skinny playing at the Hall, CLICK HERE. The tune is the wonderful Deep Bayou Moan, composed by Shaye Cohn.

You can sample an entire album (19 tunes) recorded in The Dew Drop Hall during a live concert on 18 March 2017 BY CLICKING HERE. 

========================
Just in case you may be interested to know which tunes were played when I was there for the Gregg Stafford concert in April 2015, the programme was:
SET ONE
Hindustan
We Shall Walk Through The Streets of the City
Bye Bye Blackbird
Redwing
Fidgety Feet
Careless Love
Golden Leaf Strut (final strain of 'Milneberg Joys')
SET TWO
Panama Rag
When You're Smiling
Burgundy Street Blues (Michael White feature)
You Always Hurt The One You Love
Blueberry Hill
SET THREE
Baby Won't You Please Come Home
Creole Love Call
Just a Little While To Stay Here
What a Friend We Have in Jesus
When The Saints Go Marching In

Long may The Dew Drop continue!

Post 552: BUNK JOHNSON AND THE 'BLUE BELLS GOODBYE' MYSTERY

Among the many tunes recorded by Bunk Johnson in the early 1940s, one of the favourites was Blue Bells Goodbye (available on YouTube at https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-nGE7W-R0A4). Its appeal is easy to understand, because, following its leisurely 16-bar Verse, the Chorus breaks into 2/4 time and offers a pleasant, simple 32-bar melody.

The tune achieved even wider popularity when it was taken up by revivalists, such as the bands of Ken Colyer and Papa Bue. The first version I came across (nearly sixty years ago) was the Ken Colyer recording, which you can listen to BY CLICKING HERE.

But where did this tune come from? Bunk claimed to have recalled it from his youth. But nobody could find any evidence of a  'Blue Bells Goodbye' before his recording.

Some fans who idolised him believed that Bunk himself had composed it. Others speculated that it could have been a march dating back to the American Civil War.

Well, here is the solution to the mystery. In 1905, Egbert Van Alstyne composed a tune called Bright Eyes Goodbye. Words were provided by Harry H. Williams.

Sure enough, it has the same melodies as Bunk's tune, and the same 32-bar up-tempo Chorus preceded by the leisurely 16-bar Verse.

Our jazz bands still go on playing it as Blue Bells Goodbye. Perhaps we ought to correct the mistake and begin calling it Bright Eyes Goodbye. But titles get changed in the evolution of jazz, so would it be better to leave it with Bunk's title?

We can excuse Bunk for getting the title slightly wrong. He probably had a much better memory of the tune than of its title.

Here's the original sheet music. You can see that it's the tune in question all right. The Verse is virtually identical to what Bunk plays. The Chorus is almost so, especially at the start, though he seems to have tweaked a few of the later notes. The probable reason for this is that Bunk was further confused by memories of a song called 'Blue Bell' (not 'Blue Bells Goodbye') that had been composed in 1904 by Theodore F. Morse, with lyrics by Edward Madden. Its structure is remarkably similar to that of 'Bright Eyes, Goodbye'.

My good friend Todd Brown has not only offered me his own analysis of this matter (see foot of this post). He has also recorded 'Blue Bell' on his guitar, and you can watch his performance on YouTube BY CLICKING HERE.

Here are Todd Brown's perceptive comments: My guess is that Bunk was conflating "Bright Eyes Goodbye" with another song, known as "Blue Bell" or "Goodbye My Blue Bell" (music by Theodore F. Morse, lyrics by Edward Madden.) Like "Bright Eyes," "Blue Bell" has a lyric that begins with a soldier bidding goodbye to his sweetheart and telling her not to cry; unlike "Bright Eyes," it ends sadly, as we learn in the second verse that the soldier has died in battle, so the two will never be reunited. Interestingly, "Blue Bell" was published in 1904, while "Bright Eyes" was published in 1905. This suggests to me that "Blue Bell" came first and "Bright Eyes" was a sort of "answer song" written in response to it. (Lyrically, the first verse of "Bright Eyes" is remarkably close to "Blue Bell," and the phrase "I'll return true as blue" may have been included in the chorus as a nod to the earlier song.) Bunk Johnson had probably heard both songs and got the titles a little mixed up.

Incidentally, these days "Blue Bell" seems to be best known from an instrumental version by the American guitarist Merle Travis; the title is often rendered, incorrectly, as "Blue Belle" or "Farewell My Blue Belle." I suspect that's because here in the States, most people assume that the setting is the American Civil War and that the title refers to the young lady as a blue (i.e., sad) "southern belle." Given the spelling on the sheet music, I think we are actually meant to assume that the soldier calls his sweetheart "Blue Bell" because her "eyes so blue" remind him of the flower known as a blue bell.

Post 550: MAY AUFDERHEIDE'S 'DUSTY RAG' - AND THE EVOLUTION OF TUNES

I have often made the point that some of the tunes played by our bands have been transformed since the original composer penned the piano manuscript many decades ago.

What often happened - especially with those tricky early rags - was that the bands distilled the melodies from the pieces and played them more simply. This was mainly because it is not possible on a cornet or trumpet to play the range of notes and the rapid leaping semi-quavers that a pianist's fingers could cover. Also, the rags often included three or four parts, sometimes with a change of key in the final part. But the jazz bands tended to drop at least one of these parts and might have no key change in their version.

The popular Dusty Rag is interesting to examine.

The first performance I heard of Dusty Rag was a recording made in a relaxed manner by Ken Colyer's Jazzmen in about 1959. It was an attractive jaunty piece of music.

I discovered much more recently that Ken had kept very close to the version recorded by Bunk Johnson in 1942. Bunk's band had a stellar line-up:

Bunk Johnson - trumpet

George Lewis - clarinet

Albert Warner - trombone

Lawrence Marrero - banjo

Chester Zardis - bass

Walter Decou - piano

Edgar Mosley - drums

You can listen to Bunk's version on YouTube BY CLICKING HERE.

As you can hear, they play the piece entirely in the key of Eb. After a four-bar Introduction, there is a 16-bar first theme played twice through, and then a second theme (also 16 bars) played several times, always as full ensemble. The entire piece takes about three minutes and ends without a Coda. Here are the chords, as supplied to me by a banjo-playing friend.

You can hear Tuba Skinny in 2014 playing the piece quite briskly and without the four-bar Introduction (or a Coda) if you CLICK HERE. They make the tune last four minutes, with much soloing on Part B. 

More recently, I have seen the original sheet music. It was entirely in the key of C. It too began with a four-bar Introduction, not dissimilar to what the jazz bands play. And it too had a first theme of 16 bars, with a pattern very like the band version, and even including the attractive and distinctive diminished chord arpeggio in Bars 13 and 14. Then comes the second theme of 16 bars, which is very closely followed by Bunk and his imitators. Finally there is another theme of 32 bars, much in the spirit of the earlier themes. No jazz band, as far as I know, plays this third theme. Ever since Bunk, bands have decided that the first two themes give them enough to work on.

Dusty Rag was composed in 1908 by May Aufderheide of Indianapolis. This remarkable lady was only twenty years old at the time. Her proud, wealthy father set up a small music publishing business to sell her sheet music. Dusty Rag became very popular and she went on to compose many more pieces. One of them was Thriller Rag, which is also still played by our bands.

May Aufderheide lived to a good old age. She died in 1972. So she experienced the entire early evolution of jazz from Buddy Bolden until long after the death of Charlie Parker. Amazing to think she was still alive to hear The Beatles'  recordings of A Hard Day's Night and Sergeant Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band.

She lived through nearly three decades of my own life. How I wish I had had the chance to meet her and talk about those early days, and what she thought of Bunk Johnson's and Ken Colyer's versions of her music.

Here's May Aufderheide's composition. It was orginally called just Dusty, as you can see.

May Aufderheide

Post 417: KING OLIVER'S CREOLE JAZZ BAND: THE GENNETT RECORDINGS

Some of the most important recordings in the history of our music were made in 1923. I am referring to the 14 tunes King Oliver's Creole Jazz Band recorded in April and October that year for Gennett Records in Richmond, Indiana.

You can enjoy all of the tunes on YouTube and I hope you will have great pleasure discovering them - or exploring them again - for yourselves. You could start by clicking here.

The Gennett Company had been set up only six years earlier and was still using fairly primitive pre-electric recording methods.

The tunes were:
Alligator Hop
Canal Street Blues
Dippermouth Blues (King Oliver was nick-named 'Dippermouth' because he used to keep on the bandstand a bucket of water with a dipper in it)
Chimes Blues
Just Gone
Snake Rag
Sugarfoot Stomp
Working Man Blues
Zulu's Ball
(all the above were composed or co-written by Oliver himself)
AND
Froggie More
I'm Going Away to Wear You Off My Mind
Krooked Blues
Mandy Lee Blues
Weatherbird Rag.

We have only to read that list to appreciate what a contribution Oliver made to the history and repertoire of traditional jazz. (It is often forgotten that he also wrote Doctor Jazz. I have sometimes heard band-leaders, announcing this tune, wrongly say that it was composed by Jelly Roll Morton. We must also remember that it was Oliver who later composed those classics Snag It and West End Blues.)

But these Gennett recordings are also important because they are regarded as the first to document well an authentic black traditional New Orleans jazz band. (In fact, Kid Ory's band had made half a dozen recordings just  a few months earlier - for the Nordskog company.)

So who was Oliver?

Cornet player Joe Nathan 'King' Oliver was born on 11 May 1885. Unfortunately, he lost the sight of one eye in his childhood. But by 1908 he was playing in several bands in New Orleans, including the famous marching bands. He worked with Kid Ory and the two of them moved to Chicago in 1918. They joined Bill Johnson's Original Creole Jazz Band. Bill Johnson at the time was 47 years old. He played bass and banjo and was an elder statesman and entrepreneur in the music business. He had toured and made New Orleans jazz known outside the South. His band currently played at The Dreamland Ballroom in West Van Buren Street, close to the centre of the City of Chicago. (The building has long since disappeared.)

We have to remember that, in those days, the movies and radio were in their infancy; television and computers were things of the future. Most people went out for entertainment. So this was a boom time for dancing, for dance bands and for jazz bands. In Chicago there were plenty of cafés, bars, ballrooms and clubs where you could hear such bands.

As well as The Dreamland Ballroom, think of The Royal Gardens Ballroom, The De Luxe Café, The Sunset Café, Kelly's Stables, The Nest (later The Apex Club - of 'Apex Blues' fame), The Plantation and Friar's Inn. The Royal Gardens Ballroom (which regularly accommodated 1000 people) burned down and was replaced by The Lincoln Gardens; and that is where Oliver's Creole Jazz Band had its residency.

This was some way south from The Dreamland Ballroom - at 459 East 31st Street. As far as I can tell, the Lincoln Gardens Ballroom was bulldozed years ago and - with the help of Mr. Google - I find a glass office block on the site today. 

It seems that Bill Johnson was quite happy to hand on his own band to the younger man - King Oliver - to develop in his own way and then to evolve it into King Oliver's Creole Jazz Band.

Who played in Oliver's Creole Jazz Band?

Everyone thinks first of Louis Armstrong, because he went on to become a big star in the entertainment world and in the movies. He was to develop a phenomenal technique, a great tone, and virtuoso skill in improvising solo choruses. But in 1923, he was a junior member of Oliver's band - and we should not forget that. However, there's a clear and very enjoyable hint of future glories in the famous solo that Armstrong takes in Chimes Blues. Oliver had invited him to move to Chicago from New Orleans and this was the launching pad for Armstrong's stellar career. When you think of the energy and stamina needed for the band's performances (playing for dances long into the night), it is easy to understand why Oliver invited Armstrong to join and help him: it must have been a huge strain on Oliver's lip to sustain such long, hard gigs, with few breaks from playing.

But more important than Armstrong at the time, in my opinion, was the clarinet player Johnny Dodds (1892 - 1940). He had also worked with Kid Ory in New Orleans from 1912. Dodds made a huge contribution to the ensemble style and sound of Oliver's band: his fluency and his soulful, bluesy playing and tone have been an inspiration to generations of clarinet players. In a tune such as Canal Street Blues, his decorative runs around the melody and his memorable solo are outstanding. But listen for him even on lesser-known numbers such as Just Gone and Mandy Lee Blues and you will be impressed. I suppose it was Johnny's good fortune that the clarinet could be heard so clearly, despite the primitive recording process of the time.

Then there was Bill Johnson himself (1872 - 1972), the bass player and former leader who had achieved much even before King Oliver (at Johnson's invitation) became established in Chicago. It is said that he had to switch to banjo in the Gennett studio because the bass would record badly and spoil the sound.

Of enormous importance (and much under-rated by jazz history in my opinion) was the band's pianist Lil Hardin. She had been born in Memphis on 3 Feb 1898 and had worked for some time on the Chicago music scene: she had studied music at Fisk University, obtaining a diploma there (she also obtained a qualification later from the New York College of Music), and had played with various bands, including one of her own, even before her partnership with Oliver.

Lil Hardin's Band playing at The Dreamland Ballroom

I think hers must have been one of the principal 'brains' shaping the band's music-making. Lil was also the co-composer (with Oliver) of Alligator Hop, Just Gone and Working Man Blues. The label on 'Just Gone' gives the composers as 'Oliver and Johnson' but it seems that the 'Johnson' was in fact Lil (not the band member Bill Johnson), because at that time she was very briefly married to a singer called Jimmie Johnson. My guess is that she had a big say in the arrangements of the band's tunes and possibly even in organizing the many two-bar breaks that occur in several of them and which listeners have often thought to be magically spontaneous (such as the famous breaks involving Joe and Louis together in Snake Rag). Lil's playing throughout these recordings is a model for all later pianists in New Orleans-style bands - solidly providing the chords on the beat and yet capable of a pretty solo chorus if required, as in I'm Going Away to Wear You Off My Mind. And how moving it is to hear those piano chimes of hers coming to us across more than nine decades in Chimes Blues!

Within the next three years, after marrying Louis Armstrong, Lil composed (originally for Louis' Hot Five) such core tunes in our repertoire as Knee Drops, I'm Not Rough, Lonesome Blues, Skid-Dat-De-Dat, Two Deuces, Hotter Than That, Jazz Lips, Droppin' Shucks and Struttin' With Some Barbecue. Her other compositions include Perdido Street Blues, Papa Dip, Tears, and Gatemouth. What an achievement!

Lil died on 27 August 1971.

The trombonist in Oliver's band was Honoré Dutrey (1894 - 1935). He had played in bands in New Orleans. He joined the Navy in 1917 and had an accident that damaged his lungs and eventually caused his premature death. Dutrey strikes me as just right for this band - keeping things simple but always accurate. A good clear illustration of his style is to be heard on Working Man Blues.

Warren 'Baby' Dodds, 24-years-old at the time of the recordings, is one of the all-time best drummers. He too had started in New Orleans and had played with Ory there, before working on the riverboats. He was of course the younger brother of Johnny Dodds. In these Gennett recordings, you do not hear the full range of his kit but his presence is strongly felt throughout. Enjoy his breaks on the wood blocks in Weather Bird Rag.

Other occasional band members (only on the October Gennett recordings) were Johnny St. Cyr (banjo) and the less-known Paul Anderson 'Stump' Evans (C melody sax).

The recordings were made without the benefit of electricity or microphones. The sound had to be picked up through a large megaphone-funnel. Certain musical instruments had to be omitted or restricted in use because their effect would spoil or unbalance the recording (Baby Dodds could use only part of his drum kit, and Johnson could not use his string bass). The players had to be positioned at various distances from the funnel, to achieve some kind of balance. This photo of a Gennett recording studio (alas, not of King Oliver's Band) gives some idea of the conditions. Note the funnel picking up the sounds.

Clearly, what we hear on the records is not exactly how the band normally sounded at Lincoln Gardens. But the wonderful polyphony and energy are captured really well.

The tunes are all multi-part, with tricky head arrangements, including introductions and codas. There's none of the simple repetition of one 32-bar theme, such as we are offered these days in most performances by traditional jazz bands. 

Oliver was proud and professional in his attitude to work and expected the  highest standards from his musicians. He was strongly self-disciplined. He drove his band hard. Baby Dodds in an interview years later  stated how strenuously all the band members worked at gigs: they would really exhaust themselves. Sure enough, all members of the band sound constantly so busy. Listen again to Dippermouth Blues and judge for yourself.

Oliver's personal interest in tone (he produced a throaty vocal sound on his cornet) and the use of mutes have had a massive influence on brass players ever since. You can sample his tone and his mutes throughout but of course they are specially conspicuous in Dippermouth Blues.

On top of all this, also in 1923, calling his band simply King Oliver's Jazz Band (drawn from a pool of players that included Barney Birgard, Paul Barbarin, Kid Ory, Luis Russell and others as well as those of the Creole Jazz Band), Oliver also recorded in Chicago for the Okeh, Paramount and Columbia labels a total of 23 numbers, such as Riverside Blues, Mabel's Dream, Southern Stomps, Tears, Buddy's Habit, Sweet Lovin' Man, High Society, Sobbin' Blues, and Camp Meeting Blues  - and others.

But Oliver's Creole Jazz Band of 1923 was short-lived. It disintegrated the following year. Oliver went on to play in various combinations and bands (sometimes run by himself). His struggles and decline have been well documented. And it is sad to think he died in poverty on 10 April 1938.

Listening to all these Gennett recordings again has made me realise what an example to us all King Oliver's band of 1923 was. That's the way to do it. Many others have set out to emulate  his music. But there's nothing quite like the originals.
------------------
FOOTNOTE
Reader Barrie Marshall sent me this email:
Hi Ivan,

King Oliver was the mute master. Considering Louis' massive respect for his playing, I have never heard Louis use a mute.

Regards

Barrie 

Post 278: WHY ARE HYMNS AND SPIRITUALS IN OUR REPERTOIRE?

We take it for granted that hymns and spirituals have a place in our repertoires. But they still occasionally take people by surprise. For example, some weeks ago, friends and I were playing in Oakham, a market town in Central England. One of our tunes was The Old Rugged Cross. An elderly gentleman came up afterwards to tell us how much he had enjoyed it. He said he had never realised that a hymn could work well when played by a jazz band.

Marla Dixon, with all-star support, singing 'Over in the Gloryland'

You hardly ever hear a traditional jazz concert in which there is not at least one hymn or spiritual. Also, audiences no longer feel uncomfortable (as English people would have done a hundred years ago) about dancing to such religious music.

Among the most popular titles are:

Amazing Grace

At The Cross
By and By

Does Jesus Care?

Down By The Riverside

God Will Take Care of Me
Higher Ground

His Eye is on the Sparrow

How Great Thou Art

In the Garden

In the Sweet By and By

In the Upper Garden

It's Nobody's Fault But Mine

Just a Closer Walk With Thee

Just a Little While To Stay Here

Lead Me Saviour

Let the Light from the Lighthouse Shine on Me

Lily of the Valley

Lonesome Road

Lord, Lord, Lord, You Sure Been Good to Me

Man from Galilee

The Old Rugged Cross

This Little Light of Mine

Old-Time Religion

Only a Look
On Revival Day

Over in the Gloryland

Precious Lord, Lead Me On

Pass Me Not, Oh Gentle Saviour

Peace in the Valley

Rock Me

Roll Jordan Roll

Royal Telephone

Satan, Your Kingdom Must Come Down

Sometimes My Burden is Too Hard to Bear

Walking With the King

We Shall Walk Through the Streets of the City

What a Friend We Have in Jesus

When I Move to the Sky

When the Saints Go Marching In
Where He Leads Me

I began to wonder how it came about that such tunes have a place alongside the old pop songs, blues and rags in our repertoire.

It's easy to believe the myth that spirituals were sung in the cotton fields by toiling slaves in the mid-Nineteenth Century and that - when jazz bands came into being - they would have played them and from about 1910 would have 'jazzed them up'.

But I'm not sure it's that simple. I have found no evidence that this happened. For example, can somebody please let me know of any recordings of spirituals or hymns by jazz bands before 1927? I think there's nothing in the early recordings of the ODJB, King Oliver, Kid Ory and so on.

Until somebody does, I prefer the following explanation.

In 1927, Columbia Records twice recorded the great Sam Morgan Band in New Orleans. The recordings were made in the Godchaux Building, 527, Canal Street. Four tunes were recorded on each occasion. The resulting eight recordings are still considered a hugely important part of the history of traditional jazz and have influenced hundreds of bands over the decades.

The legend is that - like other jazz bands - the Sam Morgan Band played mostly for dancing and did not include religious music in its dance hall repertoire. However, one of the recording engineers was very keen on such tunes as Down By The Riverside and suggested that Sam's band should record them.

So the Band included three 'spirituals' in the eight recordings - and the rest is history: if Sam could do it, why not the rest of us?

Apparently trumpet-player Isaiah Morgan (Sam's brother) in a later interview made the point that jazz bands such as theirs might have played hymns and spirituals at funerals but would not have used religious music for dancing.

By 1940, it became commonplace for the most influential traditional jazz musicians to record spirituals. Think of George Lewis, Bunk Johnson, Louis Armstrong.

Quite a few spirituals we play - including some in my list above - were composed not in the days of slavery but in the days when jazz bands were already well established.

Here's a stirring modern example of a spiritual in a jazz band performance. In this video, we see two of the best bands in the world joining together to perform Over in the Gloryland - one of those spirituals made famous in 1927 by Sam Morgan: CLICK HERE.

=====