Getting Some Fun Out of Life

Liner Notes

Concord Jazz is proud to present the debut of the DAVE FRISHBERG’S “GETTINGSOME FUN OUT OF LIFE” in Compact Disc format. The liner notes from the original 1977 release appear here, providing the listener with an historical perspective on the careersof the distinguished musicians who contributed to the making of this album.

In the lyric to Dear Bix Dave Frishberg, in praise of the late Beiderbecke, comment., “you’re no ordinary standard B-flat run-of-the-mill guy.” That’s the way I feel about Frishberg himself, and about his music.

On this LP the musically ubiquitous Frishberg seems to be everywhere at once, both on the keyboard and in the selection and arrangements of tunes. I might also add that, prior to “surrendering to the lure of music” (as he put it to me recently) Frishberg was a Journalist and writer and certainly could add to the quality of written commentary on jazz and popular music any time he put pen to paper.

Dave grew up in St. Paul, moving to New York City after getting his journalism degree from the University of Minnesota. He worked as pianist, arranger and composer with the likes of Ben Webster, Bobby Hackett, Al Cohn and Zoot Sims and singers Jimmie Rushing ( with whom he did an RCA album), Carmen McRae, Anita O’Day, and others.

During that time he composed Peel Me A Grape, I’m Hip, Van Lingle Mungo, and others;Frishberg’s move to LA, where he now lives, came in 1971 when he wrote the music and lyrics for the NBC-TV comedy series “Funny Side.”

An intense, introspective musician, Frishberg has a sharp sense of humor as well as a dedication to the finer aspects of American popular music. His work on this recording as musical producer, pianist, vocalist and arranger indicate his talents and versatility.

There is a touch of the sentimental and the traditional in what Frishberg creates yet he is by no means a musical reactionary or a “mouldy fig” in the jazz fans’ sense. He assumes professionalism and expert musicianship around him but has none of the stuffiness or rigid musical taste that often identifies the “studio musician.”

Surrounding Frishberg on the band-side of this LP is as tight an ensemble as the one John Kirby put together for his “biggest little band in the land” sound over 35 years ago. Trumpeter Bob Findley, a studio sidekick and friend of Frishberg, shares his eclectic musical perspective. Saxist Marshal Royal has been a prominent jazzman for over 40 years – a major solo voice in the Basie band (as well as its musical director) for decades and one of the most important California jazzmen in history. Drummer Steve Schaeffer, barely a whisper in this Frishberg quintet (as was O’Neill Spencer in the Kirby band) and Larry Gales, on bass, are, as intended, more ensemble contributors than soloists. Their playing is beautiful to hear, nonetheless.

Sweet Lotus Blossom, a tune I associate with Julia Lee from Kansas City (and a great pianist as well as singer) is the Frishberg quintet in its best Kirby mood. The fine piano solo with an astonishing modulation at the end gives way to Royal’s alto, then to trumpet-sax duet embroidery behind Frishberg’s second vocal chorus. All the material on this LP was recorded “live” (no overdubbing, editing, etc.) and it was accomplished, in total, during three three-hour sessions.

Anything For You, composed in 1932 by two fine pianists (Alex Hill and Claude Hopkins) evolves, in Frishberg’s hands, into a Fats Waller style romp. The Gales bass is light but swinging and on the uproarious ride-out chorus Schaeffer plays like he’s wire-brushing a suitcase, in the old vaudeville tradition.

Frishberg played, in 1961, with saxophonist Kenny Davern whose idea of “traditional jazz”

was (and is) quite separate from the usual dixieland definition. Rather than playing the usual “High Society, Basin Street Blues, Tin Roof Blues” selections, the Davern-Frishberg band (shortlived, admittedly) experimented with fine old numbers mostly overlooked and forgotten.

On this recording, note Stevedore Stomp, Violet Blue and Old Man Harlem. Violet is 30 years old; Harlem is about 15 years older than that, and Stevedore goes back to Ellington’s 1929 Cotton Club days.

Yet Frishberg and band play each of these tunes with refreshing reverence, acknowledging the vintage quali ty but adding their own seasoning. Findley’s trumpet on Stevedore is not the growly Bubber Miley, nor is Frishberg’s piano the raggy, stride- like, Duke. The strong 4/4 beat with careful dynamic contrasts makes this an especially fine rendition. And Harlem, a Hoagy Carmichael-Rudy Vallee(!) collaboration, comes on, Frishberg style, again like Waller with astonishing swing. Dave’s vocal (as are all of his) has the Carmichael touch and brings a strong personal meaning ro the clever lyrics. The final chorus, after the false ending, is the wildest on this disc.

Billy Strayhorn’s 1947 Violet Blue, written as a Johnny Hodges alto sax feature, gets Royal’s interpretation mixed with Frishberg’s rich orchestrational style. The touching piano interlude, the trumpet-sax duet and the “Lush Life” approach (with fragments of Tatum-like piano) contribute to the Ellingtonish elegance of this rendition. Dear Bix, with a lyric that reveals Frishberg’s artistic dignity, sounds much like a 1940 Bobby Hackett-Lee Wiley musical blend but nothing on this LP is imitative, it is all interpretive. “You’re one of a favored few , one of akind,” sings Frishberg, then later he has the line, “When you reminisce in years to come … “-what Dave is doing, here, l think, is putting himself back (for 4 minutes) into-an early-30s mood . ..and reminiscing, indeed, in those years that now have come.

The remainder of this recording is all so lo piano. It disp lays Frishberg’s remarkable technique and touch and also reveals the piano giants who have influenced his direction.

On Save It Pretty Mama the reference is Earl Hines and, like Hines, Frishberg can make a musical implication without actually hitting the anticipated note-it is a sort of audio-i illusion that, by using unplayed notes as “open space” results in remarkable syncopated stanzas.

Frishberg goes even further on Save It by playing stop-time rhythm while his right hand, a la Louis Armstrong (who first recorded this tune with Hines) solos independently. There is even a touch of Jelly Roll Morton at the end of this splendid rendition.

Fats Waller’s Alligator Crawl is far more dynamically exaggerated than the composer’s version; it is strange, as a matter of fact, to hear Waller piano compositions used as vehicles rather than as music to be copied exactly. Frishberg indicates his love of Waller, Hines, Tatum and others by expanding their work and adapting it to his needs. Imitation may be the highestform of flattery but it is a deadly trait for a creative jazz musician to employ.

The version of In A Mist, Bix Beiderbecke’s only complete piano composition, is more of a Frishberg impression of Bix’s own recorded effort than a reading of the published score. Dave swings the beat lustily and establishes a joyous, exhilarated mood during his rendition; I particularly enjoy his brief Singing The Blues reference at the end, almost inserted as a “thank you” to Beiderbecke.

It may be that the most fascinating performance on this entire disc is the Frishberg solo based on Wonderful One. Using stride-style (or “Harlem style” if you prefer) left hand, Dave camouflages the waltz-time of the original score and produces a masterpiece of bewildering rhythmic variations.

Getting Some Fun Out Of Life is a definitive Frishberg mix- scattered references to Waller, Hines and Tatum hung like ornaments, from the firm thematic limbs which he develops early in the performance.

And on King Porter Stomp, almost a post-script to the album, Frishberg reminds us that even Jelly Roll Morton, the darling of the mouldy-fig trad jazz imitators, can be interpreted loosely without losing Morton’s fee ling.

In jazz, it isn’t that nothing is sacred. It is, specifically, that the name “jazz” means a way of playing (or interpreting) rather than what is being played. Perfect and accurate reading of a printed score is within the abilities of most jazzmen these days-but it is the ability to personalize one’s interpretation of that score, or tune, that makes for the finest jazz expression.

It has always been that way, and Dave Frishberg is a marvelous example of that kind of personalized instrumentalist and composer.

PHILIP ELWOOD,
San Francisco Examiner