DUKE AND ELLA LIVE AT THE COTE D' AZUR ( $1.99 for 99 hours rental )

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In 1966, when I was in my twenties, I came with my family to Juan-les-Pins. I brought my wife, my young son and our little tent. We camped near the festival grounds, as we didn’t have much money.  I was already a big fan of Duke Ellington and His Orchestra. But this visit of theirs was special; It was the band’s first time in this part of  the south of France, its first time on the Côte d’Azur.

There was a festive air to the proceedings; the atmosphere was so special. The weather was great, the people were great, the girls were beautiful, the booze was great and the food was great.  I felt so privileged to be there. This was the first time that I had got to see the band in rehearsal – I was invited to one. So I saw the musicians around during the day and then I saw them performing ‘Under the Stairs.’ I was able to spend some time with them, in and out of rehearsal over the four days that they were in town. And I was able to spend my money – all of it – to see three of their concerts at night.  I had the wonderful feeling at that first night’s concert that the band wouldn’t be leaving the next day, that they would be around and part of the festival. I could see them again and again. This was especially important to us, as we hadn’t seen the Ellington band much in France in previous years (I had first seen the band in France in 1958, but they had not been back every year).  And staying in Juan-les-Pins for four days was good for the musicians. Although most of them were only in their fifties, I have to admit they seemed tired. When I looked at their itinerary, I realized that they had a grueling schedule in the States – every day another city – then they came to France, and the returned to the States to continue touring.

Paul Gonsalves actually slept on the bandstand when he wasn’t playing. When it was his turn to solo, he played like hell. Sam Woodyard, too, was tired – although I learned later that he was not in great condition. But we loved the way he swung the band. (When the band had come the previous February, there were two drummers, Elvin Jones and Skeets Marsh. Ellington seemed to have fun with Elvin but some sidemen didn’t like it at all. Ellington called Woodyard in Boston and asked him to rejoin the band, and that was a good thing for us as we got to see the best drummer for the Ellington band at Juan-les-Pins).  At the rehearsal I remember the band-members’ funny hats – Johnny Hodges was wearing a pink cap. I watched him sign his name on a girl – right on her flesh, next to her bikini. I heard that Gonsalves fell asleep on the beach after a concert, and that when he woke in the morning he was surrounded by these bikini-clad girls. (I also heard that some band-members didn’t speak to each other on this tour, but Woodyard assured me that the band was like Sherwood Forest).  It was so different from any other band. They didn’t always play together. This wasn’t Ellington’s best trumpet section and Lawrence Brown didn’t have his best chops.

Maybe some people thought that the band didn’t care. But you don’t have to smile in order to enjoy what you are doing or be a professional. These guys were pros, and they didn’t have to show emotion. Hodges never looked like he cared, even in old firms from the Thirties. The proof that he cared is that he was able to create such wonder. Hearing Hodges play just one note under the stars at Juan-les-Pins was like a rain of diamonds.  Russell Procope told me,

“Maybe you have the impression that I play the same solo on ‘The Mooche’ night after night. But every day I change just a phrase, just a little bit. It’s always fresh for me. I’m not tired of playing such beautiful music especially in such a beautiful setting.”

This was my first time hearing in concert ‘West Indian Pancake’, ‘The Trip’, ‘La Plus Belle Africaine’ and ‘The Old Circus Train’, all of which I saw the band rehearse. The Matador (El Viti) was nearly new and ‘Half the fun’ and ‘Madness in Great ones’ were not usually played in concert. And Hodges didn’t play ‘The Star-crossed Lovers’ that often. This version was slower, more majestic than ever.  I remember that there was a new arrangement of ‘Chelsea Bridge’ that Billy Strayhom had done, and that the band was really playing for him. Strayhorn was touring the world at this time, saying goodbye to everyone. His condition was poor, he was thin; I could see the scarf that he wore, where he had had cancer surgery. He sat with his companion, Aaron Bridgers. But poor Billy died less than a year later.

Ellington played piano like a kid. He had such enthusiasm, I didn’t care if it was the thousandth version of ‘Cotton Tail’ or ‘Take the “A” Train’. It didn’t matter. He made me feel that these versions were mine. And when he played those medleys, ‘Black and Tan Fantasy’, ‘Creole love Call’, ‘The Mooche,’ they sounded so fresh. I loved watching Ellington walking around at the festival. He was such a generous personality. I loved the way he strolled on the bandstand and stood in front of his band. He was so gracious and I loved his speeches. He was so funny with his “We love you madly” routine.  The Juan-les-Pins audiences weren’t just jazz specialists. Some of the spectators had never heard this kind of music and were so proud to hear and see stars like these in their home town.  It was unfortunate that the piano wasn’t a great one. The sound wasn’t really good, especially for those of us who didn’t have a lot of money. The best seats, as at all of these festivals, were reserved for the millionaires, those with connections, and local officials. Some of these people didn’t have any interest in the music. And for many of the critics coming from Paris, the new music was the thing. They came to see other groups – some of them groundbreaking ones. I understood that. Seeing these tired-looking musicians of Ellington’s, I can understand that they wouldn’t be so excited. These critics sat through the orchestra performances looking at their watches, penciling in their reviews. Even such a gentleman as Harry Carney held no interest for them.

It was strange time; young people, too, were into the new, free-music movement and, for them, Ellington was too old.  But now young people ask me what it was like to have seen all of those legends in the flesh. I tell them that I have enjoyed other bands like Count Basie’s and Woody Herman’s. The music was much clearer with them. But the sound of Ellington’s band, with all of this individuals… nothing could match it.  I was like a two-headed cat in a fish market, eyeing all of those legends. I was watching and hearing history. Nothing can approach the feeling that you have lived something out of the ordinary – that you have seen artists beyond category. You know that such a thing will never happen again.

Claude Carrière

Paris

May 1998