Glenn Miller and His Orchestra
“Little Brown Jug” (Bluebird B-10286,1939)
Of all of Miller’s well-known hits, “Little Brown Jug” may be the one that least follows the Miller formula, sounding very much like something we would expect from Bennie Goodman or Tommy Dorsey. But that does not make it any less brilliant. Miller’s trademark precision is here in spades as the band moves like a well-oiled machine to play the main theme and back up the soloists. As a case in point, note the dramatic build-up between the first and second solos: a riff repeated three times by the ensemble, followed by a held-note crescendo by the trumpets, and then even greater urgency as the trombones join in. The solos sound very melodic and rehearsed, but they are also full of energy and backed by a driving drum beat, and the song never sinks into predictability even as it remains danceable to the end.
~ You may also like: Glenn Miller and His Orchestra, “Anvil Chorus” (Bluebird B-10982, 1941)
“In the Mood” (Bluebird B-10416,1939)
“In the Mood” is Miller’s most enduring hit, a fast-paced number that is both lullaby soft and irresistibly energetic. After a brief but noteworthy intro, the full orchestra jumps in and lays down one of the most memorable melodies in big band history. We are then treated to some soloing that expounds upon the theme in exciting ways without departing from it. But the most exciting part comes when the full orchestra returns. Once again, they play the main melody, but this time they play it softer and softer, with drawn-out pauses between each iterance. Finally, after one such pause, they return to full volume and build up to a glorious finale.
~ You may also like: Glenn Miller and His Orchestra featuring Ray Eberle, “Stairway to the Stars” (Bluebird B-10276, 1939)
Glenn Miller and His Orchestra
“Moonlight Serenade” (Bluebird B-10214,1939)
“Moonlight Serenade” was Miller’s breakthrough hit, and little wonder as the song’s gentle melody is so sentimentally sweet that it provides a perfect vessel for whatever strong emotion the listener may be feeling. As the Great Depression wore on and the world headed towards war, “Moonlight Serenade” struck a chord with listeners. Indeed, it is a lovely song and even today is arresting in its simple beauty. The record almost exclusively features ensemble playing, but the highlight is a wonderful, mellow clarinet solo about two-thirds of the way in. With tenor sax playing a subtle, low countermelody in the background, the clarinet soars into the high notes and strips the song to its barest emotion.
~ You may also like the other side of the original single: Glenn Miller and His Orchestra, “Sunrise Serenade” (Bluebird B-10214, 1939)
). To my ears, though, the song’s first recording at a small group session in December 1936, has yet to be surpassed. Recording under the name of Ellington’s clarinetist, Barney Bigard, the band plays with incredible unity, stating and repeating the exotic theme vividly throughout. The solos are crisp and exciting. Tizol goes first, giving a sultry performance that builds anticipation slowly then speeds things up even as it retains a cautious air of danger. Cootie Williams’ “jungle” style muted trumpet then interrupts with a growl, followed by Harry Carney’s fluid baritone sax and Bigard’s wailing clarinet. Bigard’s solo is the song’s emotional high-point, after which it recedes back into the main theme and quickly fades back into the night from which it came.
), and even then it was not well received and Lewis faded back into obscurity. The record did make one notable fan, however: legendary record producer John Hammond, who actively searched for Lewis and eventually found him washing cars in Chicago. Hammond got Lewis back in the studio to re-record the song for the European market in 1935 (
). This time, he continued to perform although work was hard to come by. He eventually got his big break in 1938 – and started a national boogie woogie craze – in a series of concerts arranged by Hammond and featuring fellow pianists Albert Ammons and Pete Johnson.
recording captured him at his peak, making it easy to see why concert goers would be impressed. He is masterful on the keys, making the complex song sound effortless. The steady, eight-to-the-bar beat really does invoke a train rolling down the tracks, although for modern audiences, it brings to mind even more the outrageous energy of the early rock and roll it would inspire. While Lewis’ left hand keeps the rhythm, his right hand rattles off a series of entertaining themes. Some of these are breathtaking in their speed, but some are just as impressive in their use of space as Lewis switches from brashly pounding the keys to dancing across them fluidly and then back again.
” (Decca 819, 1936)
.” Like many of the band’s numbers, the song was a “head” arrangement where the musicians improvised around a repeated, brief melody (or “riff”) without sheet music and with only a very basic idea of the song’s structure. With talented musicians such as these, the result was often magic, and in this case they created a timeless masterpiece that would be one of Basie’s signature tunes for the rest of his career. It begins with a teaser of a piano solo from Basie, then the riff begins and the musicians begin one of the most memorable string of solos in jazz history. Particularly noteworthy are the tenor saxophone solos by Herschel Evans and Lester Young. Evans goes early and displays a resonant, sophisticated tone that conveys as much emotion as a human voice. After a slurred solo by trombonist George “Rabbit” Hunt, Young enters with a high, airy solo that goes from insistent repetition to playful inventiveness. Trumpeter Buck Clayton and bassist Walter Page take their own brilliant turns, then Basie comes back for another spare interlude that heightens the tension. The payoff comes as the full band plays together to end the song.