| Title |
Johnny Smith Paraphernalia
by Classic Jazz Guitar |
| Date |
2- ,
2007 |
| by |
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March 2002, was the 50th anniversary of Johnny Smith's recording of Moonlight In Vermont. This landmark recording firmly established Smith as a guitar player to be reckoned with.
Moonlight In Vermont was introduced on the opposite side of Tabu on a 78 PRM recording, in 1952. Johnny Smith, already an established and highly respected studio guitarist, became an “overnight” success with this recording.
Every guitar player knows the rest of the history.
Johnny Smith's comments about the recording of Schoenberg's Serenade Opus 24 as told to Guitar, Volume 5, Number I, August I976. Published by Musical News Services Ltd., 20 Denmark Street, London WC2H 8NE, England.
Schoenberg’s Seranade, 1949. | |
Johnny Smith - It wasn't planned for me to play the guitar part and I wouldn't do it again for anything. What happened to me with this piece was this: They'd been working on it for a long time -- several months because it was going to be performed in honor of Schoenberg's 75th birthday with the composer there; but this was before he died and he was very sick so he wasn't there. They had this classic guitarist and he couldn't get it together. Schoenberg had written the piece in actual pitch -- in bass and treble clef where it sounds, so they'd even taken the parts out and transposed them an octave higher into the guitar's register. But I guess the poor classic guitarist's problem was that he just couldn't follow direction. So on a Friday afternoon I was leaving NBC and waiting at the elevator and these guys came up to me and said they'd like to talk to me. One of them was a violinist with the NBC Symphony Orchestra, and they told me that Mitropoulos was thinking of scrubbing it. This would be a disaster because this was Friday and the performance was on the following Wednesday; and they had composers who had come from all over the world for the occasion. So, they said, was it possible for me to try to do this piece, and they handed me this thing. I looked at it and I wanted to say that there was just no way. But they said if you're not willing to at least try it they're going to throw it out. So I said when is our first rehearsal, how long do I have to look at this music? They said Monday morning would be the first rehearsal. Well I'm an idiot and I say O.K. So this was Friday, and as usual I didn't have to work Saturday; I went out and made the rounds and really got myself good and juiced up and got to bed about 5 o'clock. At 6 o'clock the phone rang and a guy says the maestro insists on having a rehearsal at 7 o'clock. I couldn't believe it! I hadn't even looked at the music -- I'd hidden it under the bed. He says 'l understand that, but the maestro insists and you've got to come up.' So I go up there to his suite and, Oh, my gosh, I felt terrible. I was just hung over; had the shakes -- the whole thing. So, boy, I get my box of mistakes out and put the music up there. He gives a down beat, and naturally I couldn't find the neck of the guitar; but when he gave a down beat if I saw that there was something there well I'd hit it. And I guess that impressed him enough in at least one respect: that I could follow direction. So we shambled a bit on this thing and he gave the O.K. nod and everybody was real happy.
Now, at that time I was working with a man at NBC by the name of Irwin Kostel who had been pianist with my trio and later became chief arranger with Sid Cesar. He was one of the finest musicians I'd ever known. He'd scored all the music for West Side Story, The Sound of Music, all these things, and he'd won all these Academy Awards for his orchestrations. Anyway Irwin and I were real good buddies, so I went out to his house and we spent the whole weekend, day and night -- bless his heart -- sitting at the piano and guitar going through this music. Well, we rehearsed Monday, and Tuesday, and Wednesday night we performed the work in the theatre in the Museum of Modern Art, and it went perfect. Dimitri Mitropoulos was such a warm, beautiful genius that there was no way you could make a mistake; he just gave you that confidence. And they received that piece so well that we encored the whole 7 movements. As with the recording which we did later, I used my Epiphone Emperor without an amp and I really had to pound to try to get this thing heard. And it's not really all that loud on the recording.
Incidentally, that Epiphone was stolen during a break at NBC and I never saw it again.
Johnny Smith’s Moornlight in Vermont, 1952. | |
The Liner Notes from Roost RPL 410
Johnny Smith Quintet, 1952. | |
A 3 DIMENSON SOUND RECORDING
OF
“JAZZ AT NBC”
WITH
The Johnny Smith Quintet
JOHNNY SMITH could accurately be called a jack-of-all-trades. Just accurately, and without sounding as punnish that title seems, he could be described as a very success bridge between the jazz musician and the successful studio musician. In short, Johnny Smith is such a composite musician. In short, Johnny Smith is such a composite musical personality that he becomes a minor legend after one has read a list of his various accomplishments — a major legend if only he had picturesque habits, name and come from Kansas City or New Orleans or even Minton’s.
Unfortunately, for legend, he was born in Birmingham, Alabama and raised in Portland, Maine where he began his professional career as a hillbilly guitarist — then, as now, completely self-taught. It was during this time that his love of jazz began to mature, fed mostly by radio and records since the Portland of that time associated jazz with the plague and avoided both with equal fervor.
The Army interfered for four years with a jazz trio that Johnny had formed. But the Air Force band, in which he played, gave much more than it took away. He learned the trumpet and played lead in the section as well as playing violin and viola in the concert group.
But the guitar was still the instrument with which felt he could best express himself. And it was the guitar which he played with Eugene Ormandy and the Philadelphia Orchestra while in the Army. And the guitar which he played upon his return to Portland and the local NBC station there. The same guitar which he brought with him to New York's NBC after a friend, Arthur Owens, secretly sent an audition record of his to the network headquarters which brought a speedy summons for a personal appearance.
Since being in New York, Johnny has played first trumpet and guitar with all groups of the NBC musical staff, arranged and played with Benny Goodman, recorded a-soon-to-be-released record with Gene Krupa, Bolero, was featured for several years with Paul Lavalle's Cities Service Band, recorded two operas — Berg's Wozzeck with Dimitri Metropolis and Schoenberg's Serenade, has played with the City Center Opera Company and the NBC Symphony as well as conducting his own groups at NBC and writing and conducting different radio and television shows: the Fireside Theatre for a year, the Solitaire Show with Bob Houston and the Dave Garroway show, which he conducted before the advent of Skitch Henderson.
Out of this diversity of experience, Johnny has emerged as a complete musician, at home in any one of a number of musical forms. Into all of them he brings TWO essential elements which are present in this album — the love of the beautiful and the penchant for simplicity. And both these qualities are enhanced by a sincere desire to communicate, both to the listener and to the other members of his group. It is this emphasis on communication which makes listening to these records a creative pleasure. Within the group there is a steady inspiration to better performance, and simplicity is assured because the song itself was thought of as being more important than the individual performance, which is another way of saying that simplicity is the structure within which these ensembles and solos were conceived.
For as Johnny says, "simplicity is beauty, and it communicates to the listener. It doesn't drive him to frenzy. It creates a quiet responsive audience which is highly preferable to a noisy performing audience." Especially preferable if simplicity means, as it does in Johnny's case, the ability or the skill of clearly portraying thoughts while maintaining a polished and profound technical and melodic sense. It means treating a song as if it were a painting, striving to complete the whole picture; For if the picture is complete, it is bound to remain in the mind, otherwise it takes considerable study on the part of the listener, more than he usually wants to do. It means, further, playing up to the listener instead of down. It is a thoroughly fresh and certainly a complimentary attitude on his part and it can be perceived throughout this record. Integrated with his unusual tuning of the guitar, which makes it comparable to a piano, and his writing, which produces a much bigger ensemble sound than is usual for this size group, this is jazz, Johnny Smith style. It is, in fact, great jazz, any style.
Bill Coss
Cover design by Burt Goldblatt
ROOST RECORDS, INC.
625 TENTH AVENUE
NEW YORK, N. Y.
RLP 410 – A 3 DIMENSION RECORDING
The Guild Ad for The Johnny Smith Model guitar, later renamed The Artist Award.
Guild ad for the Johnny Smith Award, 1955. | |
Johnny Smith with Harry Volpe at the Harry Volpe Music Store, New York, New York, 1956.
Johnny Smith with Harry Volpe, 1956.
Guitars left to right Harry Volpe, Johnny Smith, Arty Narvez, Sal Salvador. | |
Christopher Brooks' transcription of Johnny Smith's Pavane from the Man With The Blue Guitar.
Johnny Smith’s Pavane from The Man With The Blue Guitar.
Transcription by Christopher Brooks, 1978. | |
A photo of Johnny Smith playing at The Gibson Jazz Concert.
Johnny Smith From the Gibson Jazz Concert, 1980’s. | |
Complete liner notes from Angel 60011, Django's Guitar
Written by Johnny Smith
Hommage a Reinhardt
Within all of us there lies a universal love and appreciation for the true artist. Django Reinhardt was an artist in every sense of the word, not only as a musician, but as a person. Being fortunate enough to have known him personally, I am very grateful for this opportunity to express my feelings for the father of the jazz guitar -- and I have always called Django just that.
I speak of Django as an artist not only for his contributions as a guitarist, but also for his creative talent, as these improvisations will bear out. He was a romanticist, which I believe to be the propulsion for all artistic creativity and in his sometimes light, sometimes forcefully expressive guitar performances, I'm sure you'll find this quality foremost.
I have yet to meet one guitarist who has not been, at least to some degree, influenced by him. True, styles change as well as personalities; there is always new music to play and there are new stars to play it. But one thing never loses it place, appeal and value: a mind that remains young and fresh, ever seeking new ideas while adhering to those of proven value. This is a true indication of an artist; hence our Armstrongs, the Dorseys, Basies and Kentons, to mention but a few at random.
I will speak only in passing of Django's handicap of having two immovable fingers on his left hand. It was of no importance whatsoever to this man, as he, in his own way, always managed to execute cleanly and beautifully any musical thoughts that came to mind. I might add that this is what we all strive to do, no matter what we have to do it with, or on.
One of my most vivid recollections and a thrill I shall never forget, was the first time I heard a recording by Django Reinhardt. It was an inspiration as well as a challenge, for then and there I knew what the guitar could really mean as a solo jazz instrument. Consequently, I felt as though Django was my next door neighbor, although he spent practically all of his professional life in Europe. When I met him in New York in 1946, even though we did not speak the same language, I regarded him simply as my brother. If only all peoples of the world would learn to judge each other on merit alone, as musicians do, we we would surly attain the goals we so endlessly strive for.
Django Reinhardt will always remain one of my most cherished memories, and, as true artistry has universal appeal, I know that you will enjoy listening to him as much as I have.
Johnny Smith, Winner, Solo Guitar Division, Metronome and Down Beat polls, 1955.
Editor’s Note:
Article title photo courtesy of Donna Chapman.
©Copyright 2003 Classic Jazz Guitar
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