[Dixielandjazz] Jack Teagarden

[Steve Barbone]

Here's a 100th Anniversary piece on Jack Teagarden that was printed in the
NY Sun in August 29, 2005. Even if it was posted on the DJML back then, it
is well worth repeating.

Cheers,
Steve Barbone

Jack Teagarden at 100 - by Will Friedwald
New York Sun, August 29, 2005

No jazz musician was ever as relaxed as Jack Teagarden. Louis Armstrong and
Bing Crosby may have been the two coolest individuals in the history of
music, but when they worked with Teagarden they looked almost nervous by
comparison.

Teagarden projected the image of the lazy, unflappable Texan relaxing in the
very rockin' chair he sang about so often. He made it seem like the only
reason he even picked up his trombone or opened his mouth was because it
happened to be easier than not doing those things. Even when he sang the
blues he seemed not to have a care in the world. He never broke a sweat
while playing trombone runs so intricate and difficult that a lesser player
would have torn his arm.

Jack Teagarden (1905-64) was also the greatest trombonist in history. Of his
approximate contemporaries Kid Ory had loads of personality, Tommy Dorsey
had impeccable technique, Lawrence Brown had a distinctive tone, and Dicky
Wells had boundless imagination. But none had as much of everything as did
Teagarden. His speed was eventually matched by technically prodigious early
beboppers like J.J. Johnson and Kai Winding, yet they couldn't equal his
emotional resonance. And no jazz musician has sung or played the blues as
movingly as Teagarden.

He was born 100 years ago this month, yet you'd never know it. The jazz
world seems indifferent. There is no comprehensive CD reissue package --
although there are a few worthy-looking imports from England. Not one of the
major concert producers in the metropolitan area has announced an
appropriate Tea Party. The only good news is that 2006 promises the
publication of the definitive Teagarden biography. The Toronto-based
archivist and filmmaker Joe Showler has been working on this project for
more than 30 years and has amassed the world's largest collection of
Teagarden material. The book will be more than 1,000 pages, and Mr. Showler
has also made a superb two- hour documentary on Teagarden's life, which he
hopes will be distributed on DVD and shown on PBS.

It's not surprising that Teagarden's centennial should be shouted less
loudly from the hilltops than that of Duke Ellington in 1999, Armstrong in
2001, Bix Beiderbecke in 2003, or Count Basie and Fats Waller last year. The
trombone itself seems to have lost its star quality. Not only is Teagarden
absent from the Nesuhi Ertegun Jazz Hall of Fame -- situated in Jazz at
Lincoln Center's Rose Hall -- but so are all other purveyors of the
instrument. I suspect this has less to do with the trombone's glorious
history than its shaky present. While there are some brilliant players
around today, like Steve Turre, Wycliffe Gordon, or John Allred, there are
no big trombone stars. Like the clarinet, which has been superseded in
modern jazz by the soprano saxophone, the trombone is pretty much only heard
in big bands.

Another reason for the oversight is that Teagarden was the perfect jazz
collaborator; his career was less a series of star turns than a set of
partnerships with musicians more celebrated than he. When he first blew into
New York from his native Texas in 1927, he joined the "hot dance" band led
by drummer Ben Pollack. This started a fruitful collaboration with the
slightly younger, equally prodigious Benny Goodman; the two would record
prolifically together in the years leading up to the swing era. (Except for
one guest appearance, on the well-titled "You're a Heavenly Thing," Goodman
couldn't get Teagarden into his breakout band, and so employed a string of
Tea- influenced trombonists over the years, such Cutty Cutshaw and Lou
McGarity.)

In fact, Teagarden nearly missed out on the swing era. He was under contract
to Paul Whiteman and his archaic concert orchestra at the beginning of the
big-band boom. What saved him was the 11-piece side band he formed with his
kid brother Charlie on trumpet and fellow Whitemanian Frank Trumbauer on
sax. The sides they recorded for Brunswick,  collected on Mosaic's
seven-disc "Complete Okeh/Brunswick Bix, Trumbauer & Teagarden" -- showcase
the trombonist's tremendous swing skills.

Teagarden's most celebrated collaboration was with Armstrong. Some regard
the blues as the point of division between the races, but on recordings like
1929's "Knockin' a Jug" Teagarden and Armstrong made it clear that the blues
were a place where New Orleans and Texas could meet. From 1947 to 1951
Teagarden was officially a sideman in the All-Stars, the very popular small
band that showcased Armstrong in most of his postwar activities. When they
sang "Rockin' Chair" or "Jack-Armstrong Blues," it was clear that the two
men regarded each other as nothing less than full-fledged equals.

Teagarden left Armstrong's All-Stars because the constant traveling was too
much for him, and formed his own group in 1952. But he was far less
successful as a bandleader than he had been as a collaborator. Former
sidemen all say that he was a terrible businessman, and he never developed a
distinct vision of what a band should be. He was very good at surrounding
himself with first-rate players -- he discovered stride pianist Don Ewell
and clarinetist Kenny Davern -- but he never gave much thought to the
context of his music or the drive behind a band. He also tried to remain in
California, where he lived, as much as possible.

Any account of Teagarden's life will also be full of outlandish anecdotes
about excessive drinking. Once when he was too drunk to play, Tommy Dorsey
happened to be in the house and was called upon to lead Tea's band and play
his solos. So excessive and acknowledged was the trombonist's drinking that
it was even considered droll for Teagarden to appear regularly at a San
Francisco jazz joint called "The Club Hangover." But his drinking was
ultimately more tragic than funny: It killed him in 1964 at 58, when his
powers of inspiration were still with him.

Indeed, Teagarden's final years amounted to an Indian summer. He made some
of the best albums of his career in extensive sessions for Capitol,
Roulette, and Verve. He formed a great partnership with the brilliant
cornetist Bobby Hackett on a pair of Capitol albums, "Coast Concert" and
"Jazz Ultimate." (They are combined on a single CD from Collector's Choice
Music, WWCCM0165x.) He also cut a  trio of marvelous LPs in 1961-62 for
Verve.

"Mis'ry and the Blues" (1961) is a marvelously eclectic batch of tunes with
Teagarden and his regular group, as well as one tune ("Love Lies") with
organ accompaniment. Though Tea had two years to go when he taped "Think
Well of Me" in 1962, I always think of that lovely album as his swan song.
His very first recorded solo, waxed in January 1928, had been with Willard
Robison, and Tea capped his recording career 34 years later with this
stunningly beautiful, heartfelt collection of Robison's evocative Americana
tunes.

 
Here's hoping Verve next reissues Tea's last studio album, called simply
"Jack Teagarden!!!" which stretches his repertoire in the direction of "Moon
River," "All the Way," and "Learnin' the Blues." The latter title is an
ironic one: It was Jack Teagarden, after all, who taught the rest of us how
to sing and play the blues.