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JIMMY HAMILTON AND RUSSELL PROCOPE:

THE CLARINET SOLOISTS

OF THE DUKE ELLINGTON ORCHESTRA, 1943-1974

DOCUMENT

Presented in Partial Fulfillment of the Requirements for

the Degree Doctor of Musical Arts in the Graduate School of

The Ohio State University

By

Thomas T. Reed, B.M.E., M. Mus.

*****

The Ohio State University

1995

Dissertation Committee: Approved by

J. Delzell M. Ellis W. McDaniel J. Pyne, Adviser Adviser, Schoo/of Music UMI Number: 9612139

Copyright 1995 by Reed, Thomas Terry All rights reserved.

DMI Microform 9612139 Copyright 1996, by UMI Company. All rights reserved.

This microform edition is protected against unauthorized copying under Title 17, United States Code.

UMI 300 North Zeeb Road Ann Arbor, MI 48103 Copyright by

Thomas T. Reed

1995 ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

The dedicated work of the members of the Dissertation Committee and the

D.M.A. (General Exam) Committee is gratefully acknowledged. In particular I want to thank my adviser, Prof. James Pyne, and Dr. Mark Ellis, who spent many hours thoughtfully reading and commenting upon the various drafts of this document. I am also indebted to Shawna Pearce, a student at Ashland University, who completed most of the music copying for this project. Finally I would like to thank my wife Jane, and our children Marian and Charles, whose patience and support have been invaluable throughout my pursuit of this degree.

I also want to call to the reader’s attention Appendix B, which contains notices of the permitted use of previously copyrighted materials in this document. VITA

September 27, 1961 ...... Bom - Kent, Ohio

1983 ...... B.M.E.. The University of Michigan

1984-198 6 ...... Adjunct Music Faculty, Ashland College, Ashland, Ohio

198 5 ...... M.M., The University of Akron Akron, Ohio

1985-198 7 ...... Adjunct Music Faculty, The University of Akron, Akron, Ohio

1986 - present ...... Ashland University, Ashland, Ohio, Associate Professor of Music

1988 - 1992 ...... Saxophonist, Cleveland Jazz Orchestra, Cleveland, Ohio.

1990-1995 ...... Chairman, Department of Music, Ashland University, Ashland, Ohio

1990 - present ...... Principal Clarinet, Ashland Symphony Orchestra, Ashland, Ohio

1995 - present ...... Bass Clarinet, Akron Symphony Orchestra, Akron, Ohio

111 FIELDS OF STUDY

Major Field: Music

Studies in:

Clarinet: James Pyne

Woodwind Pedagogy and Literature: Christopher Weait

Music Education: Judith Delzell

Saxophone: Eugene Walker

Improvisation: Hank Marr

Musicology: Charles Atkinson

Music Theory: Donald Gibson

IV TABLE OF CONTENTS

Acknowledgements ...... ii

V ita ...... ill

List of Figures ...... viii

Preface...... 1

CHAPTER

I. Introduction...... 4

II. Jimmy Hamilton - A Biographical Sketch ...... 9

III. Russell Procope - A Biographical Sketch ...... 20

IV. Jimmy Hamilton as a Clarinetist

General Com m ents ...... 34

Hamilton’s Playing S ty le ...... 35

Hamilton’s Role as a Clarinet Soloist ...... 41

"Ad Lib On Nippon" and "Air Conditioned Jungle" ...... 48

Criticism and Evaluation of Hamilton’s W o rk ...... 58 V. Russell Procope as a Clarinetist

General Comments ...... 63

Procope’s Playing S ty le ...... 64

Procope’s Role as a Clarinet Soloist ...... 76

Context and Accompaniment ...... 77

Literamre and Criticism ...... 78

VI. Hamilton and Procope as Saxophonists

General Comments ...... 81

Playing in tlie S ectio n ...... 81

Hamilton as a Saxophonist ...... 82

Procope as a Saxophonist ...... 87

Summary ...... 92

VII. Compositions Using Both Hamilton and Procope

General Comments ...... 93

Ensemble Playing and B lend ...... 94

Compositions with Contrasting Clarinet S o lo s ...... 95

Solos by Hamilton and Procope T o g eth er ...... 102

VIII. Conclusions ...... 109

Appendices

A. Transcriptions ...... 118

B. Copyright N otices ...... 170

C. D.M.A. Recital Programs ...... 174

v i List of References

Books and Articles ...... 176

Interviews and Oral H istories ...... 180

Sound Recordings ...... 180

F ilm s ...... 182

Vll LIST OF FIGURES

Number Title Page Number

1. "Stomping at the Savoy," m. 26-32 ...... 36

2. "Air Conditioned jungle," m. 1 - 2 2 ...... 36

3. "Stomping at the Savoy," m. 19-25 ...... 37

4. "Newport Up," m. 55-60 ...... 39

5. "Air Conditioned Jungle," m. 78-97 ...... 50

6. "Air Conditioned Jungle," m. 52-63 ...... 50

7. "Air Conditioned Jungle," m. 170-175 ...... 52

8. "Ad Lib On Nippon," m. 1 - 3 ...... 54

9. "Ad Lib On Nippon," m. 51-65 ...... 55

10. "Ad Lib On Nippon," m. 149-155 ...... 57

11. "Blues To Be There," m. 19-22 ...... 67

12. "Mood Indigo," m. 33-38 ...... 68

13. "Swamp Goo," m. 73-76 ...... 69

14. "Swamp Goo," m. 80-88 ...... 70

15. "Blues To Be There," m. 21-2 3 ...... 72

16. "Mood Indigo," m. 43-44 ...... 72

viii 17. "Mood.Indigo," m. 33-36 ...... 73

18. "Mood Indigo," m. 39-40 ...... 74

19. "The Mooche," m. 23-24 ...... 75

20. "Swamp Goo," m. 107-108 ...... 76

21. "Bensonality," m. 1-5 ...... 83

22. "Cherokee," m. 5 - 8 ...... 85

23. "Cherokee," m. 13-16 ...... 85

24. "Black and Tan Fantasy, " saxophone solo ...... 88

25. "Jam With Sam," saxophone solo ...... 91

26. ' Festival Junction," m. 19-25 ...... 97

27. "Blues To Be There," m. 1 - 8 ...... 99

28. "Harlem," m. 2-12 ...... 105

29. Excerpt of manuscript to "Harlem" ...... 107

30. "Harlem," m. 44-46 ...... 108

IX PREFACE

This project began with some of the transcriptions that are included in

Appendix A. These transcriptions are central to the project, even though they occupy

less space than the text. Therefore the general nature of transcriptions should be

discussed.

In this project, a transcription means a musical example that was not available

in a printed state, but was written down by the author from a recording. Transcribing

is a very time-consuming process.

Especially in the case of jazz transcriptions, it is impossible to notate exactly

what was played for several reasons: (a) As they improvise, performers are

imprecise about some pitches, rendering them indiscernible, (b) Improvisors do not

use the simple durational ratios of Western notation, so most rhythmic notation in a

transcription is in some sense an approximation, (c) Factors in the recording

(balance, recording fidelity, microphone placement) may make some passages

indiscernible, (d) Jazz uses rhythmic elements known as "blues style" and "swing,"

both of which involve very minute manipulations of pitch and/or rhythm, which are

crucial to the playing style but not conveniently notated with conventional notation.

Importantly, much of the detail of pitch and rhythm in jazz derives from the African 2 musical tradition. Western notation does not accommodate these subtle manipulations well; therefore notating jazz with Western notation is inherently inaccurate.

My approach to notating the examples, given the above limitations was this: I tried to notate in a manner readable to a performing musician, including as much detail as possible without becoming obscure through excessive detail. It is possible to

notate jazz solos with greater accuracy than I have chosen to do, but the result is

incomprehensible; a jumble of dotted notes, syncopations, ties, and odd groupings

will result. This latter approach is not satisfactory for my aims.

The transcriptions, then, are not a complete means of studying the music

which they represent; use of the recordings is essential to grasp those aspects which

cannot be notated, such as fine rhythmic detail, tone, and vibrato.

Articulation is also difficult to notate accurately because jazz wind players use

a wide range of articulations which cannot be represented using conventional notation,

which essentially indicates whether a note was articulated or not. My practice

regarding the notation of articulation is to notate a slur when a passage is clearly

slurred, to notate no articulation when a standard "swing" articulation is used (light

articulation on some of the notes, but not with distinct emphasis), and to notate

detailed articulations (slurs, staccato) when the effect is distinct and significant. In

other words I have not attempted to notate every articulation that might be notated.

The reader is again referred to the recordings for a full understanding of the

transcriptions. 3

In a few cases, portions of these transcriptions were found in sheet music at the Duke Ellington Archive, at the Smithsonian. This allowed me to fill in a few missing notes, and verify or correct my transcriptions. These instances were very

brief, so I have not identified them.

Please note that the measure numbering for each transcription starts with

measure 1, regardless of the position of the transcription in the composition. The

sole exception is "Swamp Goo," where the numbering does reflect ihe untranscribed

portion of the beginning of the composition.

Also note that in the transcriptions, except as indicated, all of the clarinet and

saxophone parts are notated in transposed pitch, and all parts for other instruments are

notated in concert pitch. CHAPTER I

Introduction

Duke Ellington (1899-1974) is renowned as one of America’s great composers and as the leader of one of its finest jazz bands. These two distinctions are inexorably linked, for at times Ellington maintained a band, at great personal expense, largely so that he could hear his own compositions (Hentoff, 1965). Furthermore, his compositions were highly dependent upon the members of the band, for Ellington is known to have composed with individual musicians, not instruments, in mind (Brask

& Morgenstem, 1976). Ellington’s ability to compose in this manner depended on stability and longevity among the band members, which he enjoyed, and upon his skill in utilizing the musical personality and instrumental color of each band member

(Schuller, 1989).

Two long-time members of the Ellington orchestra were Jimmy Hamilton

(1917-1994), a clarinetist and tenor saxophonist, and Russell Procope (1908-1981), a

clarinetist and alto saxophonist. Hamilton played with Ellington from 1943 until

1968, and Procope from 1946 until immediately after Ellington’s death in 1974.

Although both piunanly played saxophone in ensemble passages, both played most of

their solos on clarinet. 5

As clarinetists, Hamilton and Procope displayed contrasting tone qualities, melodic and harmonic senses, and rhythmic styles. Because their contrasting styles allowed Ellington to fashion material specifically for either Hamilton or Procope, rather than writing generic clarinet parts, their roles as soloists in the Ellington orchestra differed.

Hamilton’s role was that of the virtuoso. Ellington assigned Hamilton many fast, or "up-tempo" solos, as well as written melodies of great difficulty. Hamilton also played the role of the trained and "academic" musician. Many of Ellington’s players had strong blues orientation and employed elements common in blues singing,

such as growls, pitch bends, rhythmic freedom, and timbre fluctuations. However,

Jimmy Hamilton employed a more restrained, controlled, and precise approach,

resulting partly from his classical' training. He excelled not at blues nor at the

expressive guttural style of other band members, but at material with unusual scales,

harmonies, or intervals. Ellington featured Hamilton in compositions that displayed

his impeccable execution and, in many instances, his classical approach.

Procope, in contrast to Hamilton, was a brilliant blues player whose solos are

reminiscent of the best clarinetists of the traditional Dixieland, or New Orleans jazz

style. He achieved this style through (a) a broad, rich, warm tone; (b) a fast, wide

vibrato; and (c) a flexible but clear approach to rhythm. Procope was featured as a

soloist less often than Hamilton, but played a number of outstanding blues solos in the

band’s repertoire. Most of his solos occurred at slow tempos, which allowed his

' In this study, "classical" refers to the European art music tradition. expressive, woody sound and relatively free rhythmic concept to project clearly.

Many of his solos occurred in the 12-bar blues form^, and nearly all of his solos utilized a blues melodic vocabulary, using pitch bends, the blues and pentatonic scales, and a non-metrical sense of delivery. Partly because he utilized these blues elements, Procope’s solos had a smooth and emotional style. "Warm" and "liquid" are apt descriptors of his playing.

Ellington and his frequent collaborator Billy Strayhom were not content, however, to merely assign solos to fit these two very different clarinetists. In a

number of instances, Ellington and Strayhom used the contrast between the two

clarinetists as a musical device, either by presenting Hamilton and Procope as soloists

in adjacent movements of a suite, or by presenting them as soloists together. In these

instances Hamilton’s urbane and precise clarinet style contrasted markedly with

Procope’s soulful, expressive style. This effect of intentional contrast was partly

through the context: Ellington and Strayhom heightened the contrast by controlling

the orchestration and accompaniments for the solos.

Although Hamilton and Procope played most of their solos on the clarinet,

both did play some saxophone solos. Surprisingly, each man played the saxophone

with a very different style than he played the clarinet. Procope’s alto saxophone solos

were in a 1930s swing^ style, with a clear and controlled sound and a

^ The common 12-measure chord sequence upon which most blues-style compositions are structured upon.

^ "Here "swing" refers to the popular dance band jazz of the 1930’s and 1940’s. 7 swinging^ delivery reminiscent of Benny Carter. This approach to the saxophone was quite removed from the woody, throaty sound and oratoric delivery of his clarinet solos. Hamilton exhibited an even greater stylistic change when playing saxophone instead of clarinet. In contrast to his polished clarinet solos, his tenor saxophone solos are guttural, coarse, and bluesy. In fact, they would not sound foreign in a

1950s rhythm-and-blues recording. As he did with their clarinet solos, Ellington chose saxophone solo opportunities for Procope and Hamilton with careful consideration of their individual styles.

Following biographical sketches of the two men, I intend to accomplish several purposes in this paper. I will discuss in detail the clarinet-playing styles of both

Hamilton and Procope and demonstrate that Ellington usually limited each to specific

styles and improvisational situations, according to their individual styles.

Additionally, T will discuss how Ellington and Strayhom employed the contrast of

styles between players as a musical device and how the composers controlled the

orchestrations accompanying these contrasting solos for maximum effect. Finally, I

will describe the saxophone solo styles of Procope and Hamilton and offer explanation

for the stylistic differences between the saxophone and clarinet solos of each artist.

Although I have attempted to use a broad and representative choice of

compositions as the basis of this study, it should be pointed out that the conclusions

reached are based only on the evidence presented.

* "Swinging" means with convincing rhythmic motion; a steady feeling of rhythmic energy. 8

Throughout the paper, I refer to specific recordings, which are listed in the

List of References. Additionally, I have transcribed portions of some of the recordings discussed. The complete transcriptions are contained in Appendix A, and brief excerpts of these transcriptions are included as figures in the text. CHAPTER II

Jimmy Hamilton - a Biographical Sketch

Jimmy Hamilton was bom May 25, 1917 in Dillon, South Carolina. When he was about 5 years old, the family moved to Philadelphia. As a young child Jimmy was interested in music, but surprisingly he stated that he was not aware that his

father was an amateur clarinetist (Setlow, 1983). When Jimmy was about 6 his father

brought home a baritone horn from the marching band he played in (Greenlee, 1991).

Jimmy reports that he picked up the instmment and learned how to play "America" in

about an hour. Then, to the chagrin of some of his neighbors, he played the hom "all

day" (Setlow, 1983, p. 3).

He continued playing the baritone hom, and at the age of nine joined the band

his father played in (Setlow, 1983). He also studied piano for a time and learned to

play the tmmpet, which interested him because it was smaller than the cumbersome

baritone hom. Hamilton apparently became a fairly competent tmmpet player, for he

later played trumpet in professional big bands, and even worked in the same tmmpet

section as Dizzy Gillespie (Greenlee, 1991).

Hamilton reports that although he was exposed to Jazz through blues music

played and sung in his neighborhood, he was interested in music in general, not jazz 10 in particular. His interest in jazz increased when he heard recordings of Bessie Smith and Louis Armstrong, and heard Armstrong play at a local theater. The emotional aspects of Armstrong’s playing made a big impression on Jimmy (Setlow, 1983).

Jimmy had also begun playing the saxophone and, despite his young age, was sufficiently skilled to transcribe saxophone solos from recordings. Hamilton reported that he had taken up the saxophone and later the clarinet because he liked a challenge, and was a curious child. At what age he started saxophone and clarinet is not clear, but it appears to have been before he was twelve (Setlow, 1983).

Significantly, even as a chr^.d he was very conscious about learning to play with correct technique. He said that while he enjoyed clarinet players who used a

New Orleans style, he wanted to learn the clarinet "as it is supposed to be learned"

(Greenlee, 1991, p. 9). In other words, as a child he perceived New Orleans style as incorrect, and had already rejected it as his ideal. His preference for "correct" technique was to remain a part of his clarinet style throughout his career.

Hamilton used the Boehm, or French, system clarinet rather than the Albert, or German, system clarinet favored by most clarinetists who played in a New Orleans

style. He later said that the differing layout of the keys made the Boehm instrument

easier to play technically (Setlow, 1983). There is no indication that he chose the

Boehm instrument because he did not favor the New Orleans players.

When Jimmy was around twelve years old, his father died. Hamilton later

said that as the oldest child he felt an obligation to be successful at whatever he did.

This sense of responsibility deepened his dedication to music study (Setlow, 1983). 11

When he was about 20, Jimmy moved to New York to work as a musician

(Collier, 1987). His continued dedication to the serious study of the clarinet resulted in his study with the famed Leon Russianoff (Setlow, 1983), one of the leading clarinet teachers of his time. Russianoff played in the New York Philharmonic and taught at the Julliard School of Music. Indeed, later film of Hamilton shows a precise, relaxed finger technique and a traditional classical clarinet embouchure, utilizing a "pointed chin" position (A Duke Named Ellington. 1988).

Hamilton’s first job in New York was with Jimmy Mundy’s big band

(probably in 1939), but unfortunately the band had little work because it was made up of musicians who were not members of the powerful local union of the American

Federation of Musicians. As a result, Hamilton decided to transfer his union membership, presumably from Philadelphia, to Local 802 in New York. During the

3-month waiting period that was required before new members could legally work, he was helped by a Mr. Collins, who frequently fed and sometimes loaned money to

struggling musicians like Hamilton, even when they could not repay him (Setlow,

1983).

During this waiting period, in 1940, Hamilton declined an offer to join Count

Basie’s band, wanting to stay in New York for the steady work he anticipated

(Setlow, 1983). In a way I fmd it unfortunate that Hamilton did not join Basie; Basie

never featured a clarinet soloist, and it would have been interesting to hear Hamilton

playing saxophone with Basie. 12

Hamilton began to work steadily after becoming a full member of the union.

He played in Teddy Wilson’s trio from 1940 to 1942. Wilson, one of the most highly regarded pianists of the time, had made a number of important small group recordings

with Beimy Goodman, the most significant jazz clarinetist of the 1930s and 1940s.

Jimmy became acquainted with Goodman while working with Wilson.

In 1942 Hamilton lost his job with Wilson to Edmond Hall, an outstanding

clarinetist who played in a New Orleans style. Jimmy believes that John Hammond,

an influential jazz critic, record company executive, and promoter, was responsible

for his firing. Hamilton claimed that Hammond liked disliked his "modem" style and

favored players like Hall (Setlow, 1983).

After leaving Wilson’s band, Hamilton worked briefly with Eddie Heywood

and with Benny Carter before joining a small group led by pianist Dave Martin. This

was a "society" band, one that played light dance music rather than pure jazz. In

spite of the style of music played, Jimmy liked the job because it was steady and

allowed him to meet his financial obligations (Setlow, 1983).

Then, in 1943, Duke Ellington was looking for a replacement for the

clarinetist and tenor saxophonist Barney Bigard, one of Ellington’s leading soloists for

many years. Apparently not satisfied with Bigard’s immediate replacement Chauncey

Hnughton, Ellington sought out Hamilton (A Duke Named Ellington. 1989).

Hamilton said that he initially had no interest in working with Ellington.

Because he liked his steady and fairly lucrative job with Martin, he did not return

Ellington’s phone calls. When Ellington did reach Hamilton by phone, Hamilton 13 agreed to audition only after learning that Ellington was about to begin a 6 month

engagement in New York, at the Hurricane Club, so travel would not be involved

immediately. Martin encouraged Jimmy to audition for Duke, saying "it will

probably be the best thing that ever happens for you" (Setlow, 1983, pp. 15-17).

Hamilton took only his clarinet to the audition and was disappointed when

Ellington asked him play on a tenor saxophone. Jimmy preferred the alto saxophone

to the tenor. His audition consisted mostly of playing by ear and improvising, skills

he had mastered. Also an excellent music reader, Hamilton was surprised at the low

level of music-reading skill in Ellington’s band (Setlow, 1983).

Hamilton was offered and accepted the job, joining the Ellington band in June

1943 (Aasland, 1979). Despite his initial reluctance to leave his previous employment

with Dave Martin, Hamilton was soon happy in his new position. He was earning

much more money with Ellington, and as a young man (age 26) found the travel

exciting. He also realized that in playing with Ellington he had reached the highest

level in his profession. He found the acclaim that came from playing with Ellington

to be gratifying (Setlow, 1983).

In other instances, Ellington had replaced departed members with musicians

that played similarly (Jewell, 1977), such as the replacement of trumpeter Bubber

Miley with Cootie Williams. Because Hamilton played with a style much different

from that of his predecessor, Barney Bigard, he was an odd choice for Ellington’s

band. Although he admired Bigard and enjoyed listening to him and other New

Orleans style players, Hamilton was committed to his own approach, viewing himself, 14 as he viewed Goodman, a "modem" clarinetist (Greenlee, 1991). The context of

Hamilton’s statement indicates that by "modem," he may have meant post-Dixieland.

Not long before joining Ellington, Hamilton told a jazz writer that his goal

was to develop a technique comparable to Goodman’s and a semi-classical tone

(Thiele, 1943). Significantly, Hamilton did not attempt to mimic Goodman entirely,

and did not state his goal as developing a tone like Goodman’s. Hamilton did achieve

his goal, in my view, for his technique did rival the formidable skill of Goodman, but

Hamilton’s tone was clearer, more uniform, anu often riarrower. In fact Hamilton

said that while learning the clarinet, he admired the playing of Jimmy Noone, Barney

Bigard, and Benny Goodman, but that their individual styles were "not for him"

(Greenlee, 1991, p. 9). Apart from his partial emulation of Goodman, Hamilton’s

influences are unclear. He did state that he listened extensively to brass players, as

he started on brass instruments himself.

Ellington may have sensed that a more modem clarinet player would be an

asset, because he did feature Hamilton in some numbers with a Goodman flavor ("Air

Conditioned Jungle," "Flippant Flurry," and "Jam-a-Ditty"). Perhaps Ellington also

realized that a trained player with a good ear would be valuable to his increasing

creation of large scale concert works. Juan Tizol, a classically trained musician, had

been a valuable member of Ellington’s trombone section for many years, and

Ellington may have seen similar potential in Hamilton.

In any case, Hamilton did not exactly "replace" Bigard. Not only did

Ellington soon assign Hamilton new solos that fit Hamilton’s own style, but some of 15

Bigard’s solos went to baritone saxophonist Harry Camey (Carnegie Hall Concerts.

December 1944). Camey, although not a clarinetist in the traditional New Orleans style, did have a throaty tone that resembled Bigard’s tone more than Hamilton’s did.

Although Ellington’s habit of composing for specific instrumentalists and their respective instrumental colors and melodic styles is well established (Schuller, 1989), it took time for Ellington and Strayhora to learn how to compose material for

Hamilton and his particular musical personality. At Ellington’s second Carnegie Hall

concert, in December 1943, Ellington featured Hamilton on a hastily contrived

arrangement of "Honeysuckle Rose," a jazz standard. It was relatively unusual for

Ellington to play songs that were not composed by him or a band member; Hamilton

reported that Ellington included "Honeysuckle" because they had no other piece

featuring him (Greenlee, 1991).

Later, Hamilton helped Duke and Strayhom write for him as a soloist. The

first major effort was the wonderful "Air Conditioned Jungle," composed by Hamilton

and Strayhom in 1945. Another feature, "Flippant Flurry," followed, and Hamilton

soon established his identity as a soloist, becoming one of the most featured soloists

in the band and remaining so until his retirement from the band in 1968.

Hamilton also played an important role as a member of the saxophone section

that many observers consider the greatest big band saxophone section ever (Carr,

Fairweather, & Priestly, 1988). This section, including Russell Procope, Paul

Gonsalves, Harry Camey, Johnny Hodges and Hamilton, remained unchanged from

1955 until 1968, when Hamilton left the band. 16

Hamilton, along with Camey and Procope, assumed the task of keeping the section "tight," in other words correcting the section on matters of precision, accuracy, and unity. The ensemble playing of the section was not precise when

Hamilton joined, so corrections were needed. The fact that Gonsalves and Hodges

were less skilled as ensemble players than were Hamilton, Procope, and Camey was

contributory to these problems. Although Hamilton did not blame Gonsalves or

Hodges directly, he stated that Hodges in particular was not a skilled music reader

(Setlow, 1983).

Jimmy’s training also enabled him to write a number of compositions and

arrangements for the Ellington band (Greenlee, 1991). Identifying which

arrangements Hamilton was responsible for is impossible because Ellington and most

jazz artists usually did not credit arrangers on their recordings. However, Ellington

(1973) did identify Hamilton as co-composer of three pieces: "Air Conditioned

Jungle," "Tutti for Cootie," and "Tokyo" (the later probably is an alternate title for

the last section of "Ad Lib on Nippon" - see chapter IV).

Jimmy also played the flute and practiced it extensively. Trumpeter Eddie

Mullens reported that Hamilton practiced the flute in hotels, on buses, or almost

anywhere (Welding, 1962). There is no evidence that Hamilton performed on flute

with Ellington, and Mercer Ellington (1978) said that Duke would not allow Hamilton

to use the instrument in performance. Saxophonist Norris Tumey did play flute solos

with Ellington in the years after Hamilton’s departure. 17

Hamilton considered leaving the Ellington Orchestra for about five years before he actually left. He has cited a number of reasons for leaving. First, he disliked "one-nighters," that is, performances on successive nights in different venues

(Greenlee, 1991). Because long-term engagements had become infrequent,

Ellington’s band had to rely increasingly on one-nighters in the 1960s. Furthermore, by this time the band often traveled substantial distances between engagements, including long overseas trips. Both factors, the one-nighters and the long trips, had taken their toll on Hamilton.

Hamilton was also irritated that Ellington had not gÿ 'cn him credit as co­ composer of "Ad Lib On Nippon" on the Far East Suite album. Hamilton felt this was Duke’s way of getting even for his refusal to allow Duke to take credit for earlier

Hamilton compositions. Also, Hamilton believed Ellington may have claimed the composition as his own because he needed a minimum number of compositions in that year to receive a particular award (Greenlee, 1991). In Ellington’s defense, however,

it seems possible that composing credits may have been handled in a casual manner,

because individual pieces evolved gradually or were composed informally. Also, the

fact that song titles were often added subsequent to the recording sessions, and

sometimes by the producers (Townsend, 1960), may have contributed to the

overlooking of proper composer identification on recordings.

The immediate cause of Hamilton’s departure, however, was a dispute with

Ellington. During an extended engagement in Las Vegas, Ellington asked 8 or 9 of

the musicians, including Hamilton, to fly to Washington, D.C. on their day off to 18 perform at a State Department function. Hamilton refused, and Ellington told him not to play the next night in Las Vegas. Although Hamilton continued playing the Las

Vegas engagement after consulting the musician’s union, Ellington did not challenge him. Hamilton also said that Duke had been somewhat abusive to him around this time, kicking his music stand and "saying things to him" (Greenlee, 1991, p. 25).

The next time the band was in New York, July 1968, Hamilton resigned.

When Duke tried to entice Hamilton to stay by offering him a higher salary, Hamilton

was unwilling to make amends and replied "I don’t want money no more, it’s the

way you’re running the outfit" (Setlow, 1983, p. 25).

For about two years after leaving Ellington’s band, Hamilton lived in the New

York area, and freelanced as an arranger and player. He was particularly pleased

with a set of arrangements he did for singer Sarah Vaughan. These were performed

at a festival that also featured the Ellington band (Greenlee, 1991).

Hamilton moved to the Virgin Islands in 1970 with his wife Vivian (Pinckney,

1992), were he was to reside the rest of his life. Hamilton reported that he didn’t

play at all for about a year after moving there, but eventually performed as many as

four nights a week with local musicians (Greenlee, 1991; Setlow, 1983). He made a

solo recording, "Jimmy Hamilton Rediscovered at the Buccaneer," (1985) with his

steady local group. Hamilton taught music in the schools, and provided jazz

workshops and concerts for schools in the Virgin Islands and Puerto Rico, through a

grant from the National Endowment for the Arts (Pinckney, 1992). 19

Hamilton also played with Clarinet Summit, a group led by John Carter and comprised solely of four clarinetists: Hamilton, Carter, Alvin Battiste, and David

Murray (bass clarinet). The group recorded two albums, both in 1981. Other engagements for Hamilton after moving to the Virgin Islands included work with

Mercer Ellington and at various jazz festivals (Watrous, 1994).

By several accounts, Hamilton had a warm and pleasant personality. Two oral

history interviews conducted after his retirement (Setlow, 1983; Greenlee, 1991) show

this, as does a brief interview excerpt on the 1988 PBS Broadcast, "A Duke Named

Ellington." In 1944 Richard Boyer described Hamilton as a "solemn youth," because

Jimmy ignored teasing about his practicing. Indeed, Hamilton himself referred to

himself as being "straight" (Setlow, 1983).

His efforts to help his family after his father’s death are evidence that he was a

responsible and committed person. His commitment to professional excellence was

evidenced by his extensive practicing throughout his life. In the 1983 interview with

Kate Setlow, Hamilton mentioned having a Walkman with him, so that he could listen

to and critique a recording of one of his recent night club performances near his

home.

Jimmy Hamilton died of heart failure on September 20, 1994 in the Virgin

Islands. Hamilton survived his wife, and was survived by a son, Artie Jones, four

grandchildren and 12 great grandchildren. CHAPTER m

Russell Procope - A Biographical Sketch

Russell Procope was bom August 11, 1908, in New York City, into a musical family. His father was an amateur violinist, his mother played the piano and sang in a church choir, and his three siblings all apparently played instruments. Although his parents were not professional musicians, Russell remembered that music was a very important part of their home life. Among his first memories were those of his parents playing chamber music together in their living room, including classical pieces

such as "Poet and Peasant," by Von Suppe (Albertson, 1979, 1).

When Procope was six, he and a brother started violin lessons. "We took

music, you know, not intending to be professional musicians, but it was just part of

our education" (Albertson, 1979,1, p. 2). Procope immediately was very fond of

playing the violin, and continued studying for about nine years. During the time he

played in the first violin section of the Commerce High School Orchestra, the group

won first place in greater New York (Albertson, 1979,1), presumably in a high

school level competition.

2 0 21

Procope’s musical interests expanded when he heard a performance by the famed Fletcher Henderson Orchestra*, an important early big band that included

Louis Armstrong. Remembering that night. Procope said:

I just stood there with my mouth open all night. I didn’t move away from the bandstand. Oh, I never heard anydiing like that in my life. And I think right there I decided what I was going to do with my life. Right then. You couldn’t tell me anything about work, or anything. That was it. From then on I just dreamed music. (Albertson, 1979,1, p. 7)

His interest in jazz was also partly the result of listening to records his father bought. Procope remembered listening with his father to recordings of singer Mamie

Smith, and clarinetists Jimmy Noone and Albert Nicholas, both of whom played in a

New Orleans style (Procope, 1967).

However, as a violinist, Procope could not go far as a jazz musician. He spoke to a Lieutenant Mikell, a former U.S. Army bandsman who directed an ensemble called the "369th Cadet Boys’ Band." Mikell told Procope that the band needed clarinet players, and invited Russell to join. Procope was excited about the prospect of playing clarinet because one of his "heroes" was clarinetist Buster Bailey,

whom Russell had heard in Henderson’s band (Albertson, 1979,1).

Russell approached his father about obtaining a clarinet, but his father refused.

His father didn’t want him to give up the violin, feeling that their investment in years

of lessons would be lost and that Russell should not become involved with jazz

(Dance, 1969). "[My father] was of that old school, you know," Russell said

* Importantly, Henderson’s group largely pioneered the big band format and arranging style that were soon adopted by Ellington and others. 22

(Albertson, 1979,1, p. 10). Eventually, when he was about 14, his mother bought him a clarinet, he joined the boys’ band, and began clarinet lessons (Albertson, 1979,

I).

Procope told Stanley Dance (1969) a different version of events during the period when he began playing clarinet. He reported that he took up the clarinet before hearing Fletcher Henderson play, not after. "I wrestled with the clarinet for a year, but with no idea of jazz, because 1 had gone from longhair [classical] music to military band music. The jazz awakening happened out of a clear blue sky...there was a great band on the stage — Fletcher Henderson’s" (Dance, 1969, p. 155). In either case, Russell had switched from classical violin to jazz clarinet through the inspiration of the Henderson band and the opportunity he received with Lt. Mikell.

His early clarinet experience included playing marches with the boys’ band, and trying to play jazz informally with friends from his neighborhood. At some of these informal music-making sessions, Russell started playing saxophone, using a friend’s instrument. When he was about 16 or 17, his mother bought him an alto

saxophone for Christmas (Albertson, 1979, I).

In his clarinet lessons, Russell took a studious approach just as he had with the

violin. For violin lessons, he said "[I] had two books...a book for technique and

exercises and another book with melodies...from this opera and from this classical

(Albertson, 1979,1, p. 25)." He approached clarinet in a similar fashion, with two

basic sources of practice material, but instead of practicing classical melodies Procope 23 copied solos from jazz records. By copying solos he learned to imitate the styles of his favorite jazz performers (Albertson, 1979,1).

Procope was about eighteen when he played his first professional engagements, one-night jobs with Willy Freeman. He also played a summer engagement in Albany,

New York with Jimmy Campbell’s band at a "gangster house" (Albertson, 1979,1, p.

13).

Russell’s first steady employment as a musician came in 1927, when he was about 19. He played at the 116th Street Dancing School, at the Parody Ballroom, in a five-piece band led by Willy Martineau. The job provided good training for

Procope, although the dancing school apparently had an illegitimate side. He said that the ballroom employed girls who ostensibly were teaching the customers to

dance, but "actually they were doing everything but teach" (Albertson, 1979, I, p.

24).

Russell played mostly alto saxophone with Martineau, with clarinet as a

double. These would be his instruments throughout his career. Much later, with

Ellington, he would on occasion switch to baritone saxophone and play Harry

Carney’s parts if Camey were absent (Stratemann, 1993). Procope enjoyed playing

the baritone saxophone as a novelty. Also, as late as 1979, Procope still possessed a

bass saxophone that Ellington had purchased for him (Albertson, 1979, IV).

Although I have not heard a recording of Procope playing the bass saxophone with

Ellington, Procope’s predecessor, Toby Hardwicke, had played bass saxophone fairly 24 often. Procope may have played some of these parts early in his tenure with

Ellington.

Procope left his job with Martineau at the dancing school after about a year and a half, when he got a job in Henry Sapiro’s 10-piece band at the Bamboo Inn.

This job was considerably more significant professionally, for the band was large by the current standards and played arrangements written specifically for the band, called

"specials." Procope’s previous experience had been playing "stocks," or simplified commercial arrangements.

Later in 1927, after the engagement at the Bamboo Inn ended. Procope left

Sapiro and took another dancing school job at Rose Danceland. Compared to the

116th Street Dancing School, Rose Danceland was more elaborate and had a larger band and clientele. Procope worked for a series of band leaders at Rose Danceland,

the most significant of whom was Jelly Roll Morton. Morton, today considered one

of the most significant musicians of early jazz, was well known at the time and had

made a series of important recordings only a few years earlier. Despite his relative

fame, however, Morton apparently needed work, so he became the band leader at

Rose Danceland.

Morton took the band from Rose Danceland, billed as "Jelly Roll Morton and

his Red Hot Peppers," on a tour of small towns in Pennsylvania. Procope had never

been part of, or even heard of, going "on the road," and, like most of Morton’s

musicians, did not like the travel conditions he encountered (Albertson 1979, I).

Procope also made several recordings with Morton at this time. 25

Importantly, with Morton’s band Procope was able to work alongside Omer

Simeon, a slightly older, and highly respected, blues-style clarinet player. Procope would later list Simeon, Barney Bigard, and Buster Bailey as his stylistic mentors on clarinet (Dance, 1969).

Procope played with a number of groups after leaving Rose Danceland in late

1927. He went to Detroit with McKinney’s Cotton Pickers, but quit after a lonely

Christmas there. Also late in 1927 he played a one-night engagement with Duke

Ellington, in Washington, D.C. In early 1928, he worked at the Arcadia Ballroom with Benny Carter, a talented multi-instrumentalist and arranger. Procope’s next long

term engagement was a year and a half with Chick Webb, ending in early 1931.

Procope explained that playing with many different bands was not uncommon:

"Business was good at that time. You could leave one job and go on another job or

just freelance around with different people" (Albertson, 1979,1, p. 46). However

Procope also commented humorously that "freelancing" was a "dressed up word

[which meant] you were out of work" (Albertson, 1979, II, p. 14).

In 1931 Procope received the opportunity to join the Fletcher Henderson

Orchestra, the group that had inspired him to start playing jazz some ten years earlier.

The circumstances of Procope’s coming to Henderson were unusual. Procope called

it the "Big Trade": Alto saxophonist Bermy Carter and trombonist Jimmy Harrison

were sent from Henderson’s band to Webb’s in exchange for Procope and trombonist

Benny Morton. Much later, referring to Henderson’s loss of Carter, a musician of 26 immense talent, Russell said "I’m afraid Fletcher [Henderson] got the worst of that deal" (Dance, 1969, p. 160).

Procope stayed with Henderson until 1934 because he earned good wages and because it was an outstanding band, with good arrangements and many fine soloists, including saxophonists Coleman Hawkins and Lester Young. Disgusted with

Henderson’s leadership. Procope ultimately left Henderson and played briefly with

Tiny Bradshaw and with Ralph Cooper before joining Teddy Hill in 1934 (Albertson,

1979,11). Hill’s band, like Henderson’s, was of high stature and had excellent musicians, including Dizzy Gillespie, Chu Berry , Dicky Wells, Rex Stewart, and Roy

Eldridge. Procope toured Europe with Hill in 1937, accompanying a Cotton Club

revue.

Procope’s next engagement, with the John Kirby Sextet, was to be his most

prominent and lengthy (1937-1943), excluding his association with Ellington. Kirby’s

group, consisting of trumpet, alto saxophone, clarinet, piano, bass and drums, was

smaller that most groups of the era. Procope played alto saxophone, but no clarinet,

because Kirby’s clarinetist, Buster Bailey (one of Procope’s idols) was known

primarily as a clarinetist. Procope first played with Kirby as a substitute when Kirby

needed a strong sight reader to play accompaniments to singer Maxine Sullivan

(Albertson, 1979, 111).

Kirby’s repertoire featured detailed and sophisticated arrangements with brief

solos. Surprisingly, Procope said that the Kirby Sextet did not use written 27 arrangements; all of the detailed ensemble passages were worked out in extensive rehearsals, and only sometimes written down later (Procope, 1967).

Whereas the Kirby Sextet was popular, it is not esteemed as a fine jazz group.

Schuller said Kirby’s music lead "into a stifling artificiality that soon led completely away from jazz, leaving no trace of its existence" and that "it wasn’t very good or important music...a great part of the [audience’s] fascination lay in the well- rehearsed, disciplined ensemble playing of the group" (1989, p. 812-813).

Procope’s long association with Kirby ended after he was drafted into the U.S.

Army on October 19, 1943. Russell believes that he and Billy Kyle, who also played with Kirby, may have caused themselves to be drafted. Kirby had arranged for the sextet to go Rio de Janeiro to perform for one year. Delayed by wartime travel

restrictions, Kirby and the band members all tried to "pull strings" in order to leave

the country. Procope felt that this attracted attention from the draft board, because

the trip never materialized and he was soon drafted. After basic training. Procope

used the influence of a friend to get stationed in New York City at an installation on

110th Street near his home. There he played in an Army Band.

In 1944, Procope was transferred to Camp Breckenridge, in Kentucky, where

he also was a bandsman. This unauthorized band existed because the colonel who

commanded Procope’s regiment, Ned Gardine, liked music and formed the band on

his own authority (Albertson, 1979, III).

Many of Procope’s recollections of his military service involve special

treatment and privileges he and others received as musicians. Procope reported "we 28 didn’t have to do...any soldiering" and "I never was a full member of anything while

I was in the Army" (Albertson, 1979, HI, pp. 21-23). Procope also said that he once could have been found guilty of being AWOL (absent without leave), but was not reprimanded or punished because the major who questioned him was a fan of the John

Kirby Sextet.

Another privilege he and some of his fellow bandsmen received was the opportunity to perform for extra income. He played U.S.O. dances, club dates, and civilian dances, even using Army trucks for transportation (Albertson, 1979, III).

After leaving Kentucky, the band was stationed at Fort Huachuca, Arizona to prepare for duty overseas. Procope was not given duty overseas because Colonel

Gardine transferred Procope to the Medical Corps. Gardine had placed Procope on a list of "untouchables," as apparently was the Colonel’s prerogative. After some training as a medic, Russell was transferred back to the band and remained a bandsman until his discharge in October 1945 (Albertson, 1979, III).

Immediately upon returning to civilian life. Procope began to freelance with

various groups. He also played a broadcast as a guest soloist with Duke Ellington,

and then rejoined the John Kirby Sextet (Colombe, 1981).

Procope felt that the Kirby Sextet had changed for the worse. Personnel

changes had altered the sound of the band because some of the newer members were

interested in the increasingly popular bebop style. Also Procope felt the group had

lost the attention to precision and beautiful playing that had once made it unique.

Finally, Kirby’s personal problems affected the sextet (Albertson, 1979, III, IV). 29

In April 1946, Russell received a call from Duke Ellington. Procope said:

You know that old story about joining Duke for one night and staying 28 years. Well, that’s a fact because he called me to play this important Saturday afternoon [radio] broadcast in Worcester, Massachusetts. So I went there. I went up to Massachusetts that afternoon and played the broadcast with him...replacing Otto [Toby] Hardwicke. (Albertson, 1979, IV, pp. 5-6)

Procope maintained that Hardwicke, an often unreliable person, "had wandered off somewhere and got lost, and Duke didn’t know where he could find him" (Dance, 1969, p. 162).

Because he had been away from home for three years in the Army, he was not initially anxious to join Ellington as a permanent member. However, he was happy to play as a substitute, so Procope played another engagement with Ellington that night in Providence, Rhode Island. Procope continued to replace Hardwicke on a day-to- day basis for about ten days. When Ellington did extend the offer to join. Procope, having decided that the steady income would be worthwhile despite the travel, accepted.

During the first several years of his stay with Ellington, Procope was rarely featured as a soloist, and played saxophone almost exclusively. In the late 1940s

Ellington assigned Procope relatively insignificant saxophone solos, including a solo

imitating a train whistle in "Happy Go Lucky Local," and a parody of bebop

saxophonist Charlie Parker on "Boogie Bop Blues" (Colombe, 1981). Procope’s main

role was that of the section player and lead saxophonist (Schuller, 1989; Dance,

1963). 30

A 1950 Ellington remake of his 1930 classic "Mood Indigo" (from

Masterpieces bv Ellington') proved to be a turning point for Procope as an

Ellingtonian. In this recording. Procope played a beautiful low register clarinet solo reminiscent of the long-departed Barney Bigard. Procope had not played clarinet on a recording since 1937, so his warm, woody tone, and bluesy delivery were probably not familiar to listeners (Colombe, 1981).

Ellington typically exploited the unique aspects of each player as a soloist and

as a tone color, and with Procope he had now found a timbre that had been missing

from the group since Bigard's departure in 1942. Ellington began to feature Procope

more regularly as a clarinet soloist, including solos with a New Orleans flavor in

"The Mooche" (1952), "Creole Love Call" (1956), "Blues To Be There" (1956), and

"Way Early Subtone" (1959). Ellington made probably his most masterful uses of

Procope’s clarinet solo voice with "Almighty God" (from the Second Sacred

Concert). "Swamp Goo" (1968), and "4:30 Blues" (1969).

Procope felt that playing with Ellington allowed him to play the blues-oriented

style he loved best. "[With Teddy Hill] the more bluesy style wouldn’t have fitted.

In Duke’s band, I could play more in the styles by which I had genuinely been

influenced, and I was familiar with the clarinet style in his compositions and

arrangements" (Dance, 1969, p. 162). Procope’s saxophone solos with Ellington

were few, and are discussed in chapter VI.

It should be remembered that Procope joined Ellington less than three years

after Hamilton, who was in some ways not really a replacement for Bigard. 31

Therefore, Ellington valued Procope’s ability to fill Bigard’s role. In Music is Mv

Mistress Ellington said "Russell’s got the kind of wood that Barney had" (1973, p.

444). Ellington also said that Procope knew the Bigard style before joining the band, because Procope had listened extensively to Bigard’s recordings.

Procope played only once with the Ellington Orchestra after Duke’s death in

1974, even though Ellington’s son Mercer continued to lead the band (Jeske, 1978).

"[Playing with Duke] was special, very special. I don’t want to play in no ’Ellington’ band now. There’s nobody really left, and when it ended, it ended," Procope said of his decision (Jones, 1981, p. 27).

Procope continued performing until the end of his life. He worked from 1974 to 1978 in a trio with long time Ellington drummer Sonny Greer and pianist Brooks

Kerr, an Ellington enthusiast with a reported "total recall" of Ellington’s

compositions. In 1978 Procope helped form a quintet playing mostly Ellington’s

music (Wilson, 1981). Other engagements were with Chris Barber and with Wild Bill

Davis, an organist who had toured with Ellington (Jones, 1981).

An account of Procope’s personality describes him as a serious and modest

man who was content as a sideman. "Procope appeared to lack that streak of

exhibitionism, determination, and dedication, also perhaps the musical magnetism,

that go into making the making of great soloist. He said himself he was an introvert"

(Jones, 1981, p. 27). Indeed, Procope never was a leader of his own group, apart

from one or two solo albums, and was content with his very limited solo role with

Ellington. 32

Procope maintained a professional attitude about his playing. He was asked several times about the possible monotony of playing for decades with the same band, and having the same few solo opportunities night after night. He said he played

"Mood Indigo" nearly every night for 28 years but never tired of it because he would

make minute variations with each performance of the solo. Procope said he felt

privileged to be playing Duke Ellington’s music (A Duke named Ellington. 1988).

He also said "your satisfaction comes from your professionalism" (Welding, 1962, p.

330), revealing another attitude that helped him avoid monotony.

Procope appears to have had a dry and laconic sense of humor. A fan asked

Procope what he thought of Ornette Coleman, a saxophonist who pioneered the

avante-garde style of jazz known as "free jazz" around 1960. Procope replied "I

don’t" (Jones, 1981, p. 27). Procope also showed his blunt sense of humor when an

interviewer asked him if he played the flute. "I say, hell no. I say, I don’t even like

a flute. I don’t.. .1 don’t think a flute even has any place in jazz" (Albertson, 1979,

II, p. 18).

Regarding his tastes in jazz, Russell valued players who were sincere in their

musical expression, as long as they were not too "far out. "

Maybe one can vary it a bit, but if it gets too far out, it ceases to be jazz...the old players just played what they heard, for there was nothing written for them. Actually many of them knew nothing about music, but they just played and often played very well, because they loved the music. So I think one shouldn’t lose sight of the fact that jazz has a background. (Procope, 1967, p. 7)

In other words, he felt it insignificant that many older players lacked training, because

they often played with great personal conviction. Similarly, he was suspicious of jazz 33 education, saying "I don’t believe you can go to school and leam how to play jazz"

("A Jazzman and His Art," 1978).

Another example of his belief in sincere musicians was his respect and admiration for Charlie Parker, a younger, more complex player, and the most influential saxophonist in jazz history. Even though he did not adopt much of

Parker’s style, Procope considered Parker one of the greats. "After awhile I began to

understand [Parker’s playing]. I got the message" he said of Parker’s revolutionary

playing (Albertson, 1979, III, p. 40). However, he found the group SuperSax, which

plays harmonized versions of Parker’s solos with five saxophones, to be artificial and

unsuccessful (Albertson, 1979, II).

Ironically, although Procope was influenced by New Orleans style clarinetists,

and was considered a Nev.' Orleans style player, he disliked Dixieland, or traditional

New Orleans jazz, finding it monotonous ("A Jazzman and His Art," 1978).

Russell Procope died January 21, 1981, in New York City. He survived his

wife Helen, who had died in September, 1980, and was survived by his sister May,

and a brother, William. CHAPTER IV

Jimmy Hamilton as a Clarinetist

General Comments

In his autobiography. Music is Mv Mistress (1973), Duke Ellington included brief tributes to most of his significant band members, and to many other musicians and friends. This was his statement about Jimmy Hamilton:

Jimmy Hamilton was bom in South Carolina, like Cat Anderson and Rufus Jones, but he was raised in Philadelphia. He joined us in 1942 [sic] when we were in the Hurricane Club on Broadway. He had been playing in Dave Martin’s trio in Brooklyn, but, after sitting in with us for a couple of days, he decided to join us. However, he had to make a slight compromise. His main instrument was clarinet, and his double had been alto saxophone, but now he had to make a switch, because our book called for clarinet doubling tenor. That he managed this perfectly was typical of Jimmy. He usually manages anything musical that he sets his mind to, and there, I think, is the key to any attempt at describing him. He has the capacity to discipline himself and the diligence to study in order to leam. He practices endlessly and scarcely ever gets away from the school rules. You might say that he is a tutor-rooter, and a credit to his tutor! His solid musical foundation supports him when he arranges and com­ poses. Although he has strong classical tendencies on clarinet, he always more or less leaned toward the funky on tenor—until he heard Harold Ashby, and then you could tell how much he liked Ash[by]. He’s a nice guy, with patience and a dry sense of humor, and he’s easy to get along with. If he believes something, or in something, iieiiher hell nor high water will change his belief. He was very important to us throughout the twenty-five years he was in the band. (pp. 220-221)

34 35

On clarinet, Jimmy Hamilton was a capable improviser, a skilled technician, and an extremely accurate player. He was not, however, a major jazz soloist on the level of such players as Dizzy Gillespie, John Coltrane, or even Johnny Hodges.

Hamilton was criticized at times for a lack of emotional depth and furthermore was not comfortable in all improvisational settings.

Hamilton’s Flavins Stvle

The most notable characteristic of Hamilton’s clarinet playing is his technique; he played with surprising ease and with a high degree of precision, even at fast tempos. An example is his solo on "Newport Up" (Transcription 13, from Ellington

at Newport).

In addition to his precision, there are several components to Hamilton’s

technical skill. First, most of his clarinet solos utilized the altissimo register, those

notes above C \ such as the passage starting in m. 27* of "Stomping at the Savoy"

(Fig. 1). Hamilton played the altissimo register in a facile and controlled manner that

surpassed most jazz clarinetists. Additionally, his use of the altissimo was exciting

and energetic.

* The abbreviation "m." means measure number or measure numbers. Each figure takes its measure numbering from the complete transcription in Appendix A. 36

b I>7 Fm c y

FIGURE 1. "Stomping at the Savoy," m. 26-32.

Second, Hamilton was highly fluent with arpeggios, or the consecutive playing of the individual notes of a chord. Fast arpeggios covering two octaves or more occur in many of his solos. A stunning example is the opening of "Air Conditioned

Jungle" (Fig. 2, Transcription 2). This passage is extremely difficult, yet Hamilton

played it with apparent ease; he maintained uniformity of tone, rhythm, and volume.

J = 116

FIGURE 2. "Air Conditioned Jungle," m. 1-22. 37

m i-jLJügrjJ

i l â g & i

FIGURE 3. "Stomping at the Savoy," m. 19-25.

Third, Hamilton was clearly facile in difficult keys and with complex chord progressions. For example, the chord progression in "Newport Up" is a fairly

difficult one, yet Jimmy clearly executed the harmonic changes, including the

modulations from B-flat major to D-major (m. 11 and 43) and the chords descending

by half-step in m. 31-33 and 63-64. An intricate and seemingly effortless passage in

m. 19-25 of "Stomping at the Savoy" (Fig. 3), which passes through the difficult key

of G-flat major for the clarinet, is also an example.

Because many of Hamilton’s solos were highly precise technically, it

sometimes sounds as if he were executing a written, not improvised, solo. Because

improvising with clarity at fast tempos is difficult, a player could memorize solos,

rather than improvising them, to sound more fluent. Although Hamilton probably 38 worked out portions of his solos in advance, his playing still displayed spontaneity.

Furthermore, examination of solos from different recordings of the same piece shows that Hamilton varied his solos considerably. For example, his solos were quite different on two recordings of "Stomping at the Savoy," from All-Star Road Band,

vol. 2. and from an unreleased live recording. Similarly, Hamilton played

substantially different solos on two recordings of "Ad Lib on Nippon," from Private

Collection, vol. 10. and from S.R.O.

Another feature of Hamilton’s technique was his ability to accurately

synchronize melody with harmony, even in difficult passages. An example is from

"Newport Up" (m. 55-60, Fig. 4). Here, Hamilton’s strong feeling for harmonic

rhythm allowed him to be adventuresome, playing a difficult chromatic passage with

unusual groupings of notes (groups of 5 and 6 notes), yet begin a new phrase

precisely on the harmonic change at m. 59.

Hamilton described the skill that enabled him to improvise with rhythmic and

harmonic control in this and other passages. "If you can feel the phrases, you can do

anything you want to within the harmonic structure if you know where your phrases

are and always know where you are." (Setlow, 1983, p. 43). In other words,

Hamilton had developed a keen sense of phrase length, and therefore harmonic

rhythm, such that playing a complex passage did not confuse him or cause him to lose

his place in the harmony. 39

_— _ ------

f .

3 5 a Cm? F? b !>6

■inr-J— !j I. i—>— 4 = , = = = ^ s -

ITTIDu^ Cm : C7 V3i k: ■?7tl-E..I ^

FIGURE 4. "Newport Up," m. 55-62.

Not only did Ellington display Hamilton’s technique in improvised solos, but

in written passages as well, such as the introduction to "Air Conditioned Jungle." the

melody to "Ad Lib on Nippon," and the melody to "Schwipti” from Suite Thursday.

Because Hamilton was sometimes frustrated with the increasing difficulty of parts

Ellington wrote for him, he practiced extensively to "stay ahead" of Ellington (A

Duke named Ellington, 1989). Indeed, Ellington was aware that Hamilton’s

technique was exceptional, judging from a story Hamilton fondly told about Benny

Goodman. After writing a difficult piece for Hamilton, Ellington showed the clarinet

part to Goodman. Goodman was unable to play the piece accurately, prompting

Ellington to tell Hamilton "Benny Goodman is human too" (Greenlee, 1991, p. 6).. 40

Hamilton told this story with satisfaction, for he felt overlooked in comparison with

Goodman.

One of Hamilton’s stated goals as a clarinetist was to develop a semi-classical tone (Thiele, 1943). This goal must be understood in the context of the prevailing

tonal concepts among jazz wind instrumentalists. First, m'osi Ellington players used jazz tonal concepts, where blues and voice-like inflections, rather than evenness and

purity of timbre, were the basis of tone. This distinction made Hamilton’s pure and

even tone sound unexpressive at times, particularly when compared to Cootie

Williams, Johnny Hodges, and other Ellington colleagues who used timbrai variation

extensively.

Second, many clarinetists of the New Orleans school played with a very wide,

unfocused tone, using a fast, wide vibrato. Hamilton used little vibrato, and had a

clear, compact, focused tone. At times his tone could be described as thin, or lacking

in richness and warmth, but usually its clarity was a positive factor.

Third, even clarinetists not in the New Orleans tradition, such as Artie Shaw,

Benny Goodman, and Buddy DeFranco, used a more open and more loosely

controlled tone than Hamilton. Early in his career Hamilton did imitate Goodman

(Thiele, 1943), but during Hamilton’s career his tone gradually became more pure

and intense, losing the slight hollowness and looseness of Goodman’s tone.

Finally, Hamilton did develop a tone quality similar to the tone qualities of

classical clarinetists. Although his tone might have been out of place in a symphony 41 orchestra, Hamilton had a more classical sound than any other prominent jazz clarinetist of the era.

Hamilton’s Role As A Clarinet Soloist

Ellington’s skill in crafting material for the individual musicians in his orchestra is well documented. His musicians were described as colors "on the personal palette that was his band" (Brask & Morgenstem, 1976, p. 104). Gunther

Schuller (1989) wrote that Ellington was the first major composer to develop a repertoire by incorporating the musical ideas of the musicians who played it. Schuller went on to explain that Ellington’s players "produced such individual timbres on their

’horns’ that Ellington had almost as many diverse sonorities at his disposal as a ninety-piece symphony orchestra" (p. 49). Finally, Ellington’s way of composing was

likened to creating roles for a play (Giddins, 1984).

Because Ellington considered the individual musical personality of each

member, over time each player assumed certain roles, suiting their strengths and

tastes. As a clarinet soloist, very specific roles developed for Hamilton: He was

featured in (a) fast tempo pieces; (b) traditional swing pieces, where his playing

resembled Goodman’s; (c) pieces with classical influence; (d) many of Ellington’s

more exotic works; and (e) cadenzas.

Ellington exploited Hamilton’s technique with many fast tempo solos, where

Hamilton utilized elements of bebop style. Many examples exist, including "Newport

Up" (Transcription 13, from Ellington at Newport). "Stomping at the Savoy" 42

(Transcription 16, from All-Star Road Band, vol. ID. "Ad Lib on Nippon"

(Transcription 1, from Private Collection, vol. 101 "Air Conditioned Jungle"

(Transcription 2, from Duke Ellington 19451. "St. Louis Blues" (The 1953 Pasadena

Concert! "Red Shoes" from Toot Suite (1959, Jazz Partv). "Idiom ’59, part 2"

(1959), "Peanut Brittle Brigade" and "Dance of the Floreadores" from The

Nutcracker Suite (Three Suites) and "Jazz Festival Jazz."

Early in his tenure with Ellington, Hamilton played a number of solos reminiscent of Benny Goodman or Artie Shaw. The two major clarinet soloists of the swing era, both Goodman and Shaw had excellent technical facility and both played with precision. Hamilton was capable of emulating their styles, even early in his career. Ellington may have sensed the possible audience appeal of Hamilton’s

stylistic resemblance to these well known players. Examples of Hamilton playing in a

style reminiscent of Goodman or Shaw include "And Suddenly It Jumped" and "Blue

Skies" (or "Trumpets No End"), both from The Duke Ellington Carnegie Hall

Concerts. December 1944. "Smada" (1951, The World of Duke Ellington). "Jam-a-

Ditty," and "Honeysuckle Rose," his first major solo with Ellington.

Ellington frequently utilized Hamilton, either in solo or ensemble passages, in

a semi-classical style. Such passages were most evident in Ellington’s extended

compositions and suites. In these works Hamilton’s pure tone and clean execution

became essential to some of the complex passages Ellington wrote. One critic wrote

"the value of Hamilton’s precise musicianship and virtuosity [were] at a premium in

the more complex Ellington scores" (Lambert, 1963, p. 345). 43

Ellington and Strayhom put Hamilton’s classical skills to extensive use in their arrangements of "The Nutcracker Suite" and "Peer Gynt Suites Numbers 1 and 2"

(1960, Three Suites'), jazz versions of familiar orchestral works by Tchaikovsky and

Grieg. These works display the most outstanding work Hamilton did on.record, with the exception of "Ad Lib on Nippon" and "Air Conditioned Jungle." Hamilton is heard prominently throughout both suites.

In "Toot Toot Tootle Toot" ("Dance of the Reed-Pipes" from Nutcracker)

Hamilton used a classical style to play a written part, taken nearly directly from the

original version, using a delicate staccato articulation. Later in the same movement

he improvised a florid jazz solo. These differing statements both fit the musical

context nicely.

Hamilton also utilized a classical style in "Chinoiserie" ("Chinese Dance").

He executed the arpeggios crisply, but not in the same way a symphonic clarinetist

might. This is a significant aspect of Hamilton’s playing. He played classical or

semi-classical passages with just enough classical style to give the right effect, but

without sounding out of place. Perhaps the average symphonic clarinetist could not

assimilate classical style into a jazz rhythmic background as fluently as did Hamilton.

Hamilton’s playing is perhaps even more striking in Peer Gvnt. a less familiar

but even more effective orchestration than "Nutcracker." His playing is evident

throughout in the ensemble and in a number of brief but outstanding solos. In

"Morning Mood" from Peer Gvnt. Hamilton played an improvised arpeggio passage

in a transitional section, effectively communicating the change of key and the change 44 of mood entering the next section. His cadenza at the beginning of "Solvejg’s Song" shows a tone quality of impeccable beauty, and excellent control of dynamics and register. In the last movement, "Anitra’s Dance," Hamilton played an effective jazz interpolation of the theme.

Hamilton was able to switch convincingly from semi-classical style to Jazz style. In "Mynah" ("The Bluebird of Dehli"), the second movement of the "Far East

Suite," Hamilton played a very intricate semi-classical melody, imitating a bird.

Hamilton said that he had to concentrate carefully to avoid losing the rhythm in this unusual passage (Setlow, 1983). In the second section of "Mynah," Hamilton

improvised in a jazz style over the towering ensemble chords.

"Clarinet Melodrama" (1956, unreleased live recording) is a corny novelty

piece, but a good example of Hamilton’s semi-classical playing and excellent

technique. The main theme, a fast descending sequence, is very reminiscent of

passages in the clarinet concerti of Weber and Spohr. The passage is astonishingly

difficult to play, but Hamilton was nearly flawless. In the closing passage Hamilton

showed an effective blending of classical and jazz styles, by adding jazz inflections to

an otherwise trite classical melody.

A aspect of Hamilton’s style related to his semi-classical playing is "lace" or

"lace work." This term, adopted by Ellington, involved a delicate improvised part

accompanying a melody or other soloist, usually in the upper register, and usually

quite "busy," or full of notes. Hamilton said that Ellington frequently requested that

he use this style (Greenlee, 1991). Hamilton utilized lace playing in "Poor 45

Butterfly," "The Little Purple Flower," and "Supreme Being." Although Hamilton’s lace playing is not a classical technique, it contrasts with the blues-oriented playing of other band members just as his semi-classical playing does.

Ellington often featured Hamilton in exotic compositions, pieces based on unusual scales or intervals, and/or pieces lacking the traditional blues or swing basis of most jazz. Hamilton’s drifting solo in "La Plus Belle Africaine" is typical of his solos in these exotic settings. Here a stark, droning, and modal, or single-scale, background allowed Hamilton to explore dissonances and the pentatonic scale.

"Silk Lace" has a Latin rhythm, unusual in Ellington’s repertoire, and a

simple, nearly modal harmonic progression. Hamilton played a solo over a vamp, or

short repeated harmonic progression. In a live recording of "Silk Lace," Ellington

introduced this Hamilton feature as "more of that exotic rhythm" (All Star Road

Band, vol. 2). "Silk Lace" seems more of a novelty number today, but is exotic in

the sense that it was unusual among Ellington compositions and had non-jazz

influence. "Caravan" (Seattle Concert) included a Hamilton solo, and, like "Silk

Lace, " utilized a Latin rhythmic style and a static harmonic progression.

Because Hamilton was skilled in improvising in open harmonic settings,

Ellington often featured him in such settings. The above-mentioned compositions,

"La Plus Belle Africaine," "Silk Lace," and "Caravan," as well as "Air Conditioned

Jungle" and "Ad Lib on Nippon," all derive some of their exoticism from harmonic

progressions that were either modal or relatively static. 46

Hamilton also contributed to the exoticism of these compositions, using several techniques to create effective solos in pieces involving modal or static harmony. He

experimented with dissonances, he used motivic development, and his pure tone and

classical execution suited these passages well, because timbre and pitch variations

were not expected as they are in non-exotic pieces. Some Ellington soloists, such as

Johnny Hodges or Cootie Williams, would have been entirely out of their element and

probably not successful in these settings.

"Duet" (1951, The World of Duke Ellington, volume 3) is a good example of

an exotic solo by Hamilton, who was featured throughout the piece. The melody has

unusual motifs and spicy dissonances. The piece ends suddenly and rather illogically

with a duet with bassist Wendell Marshall, involving surprising double stops from the

bass with extremely fast scale passages and quirky staccato phrases from Hamilton.

This passage must be heard to be believed.

Finally, Ellington often featured Hamilton in cadenzas, where Hamilton

displayed his pure tone, clean technique, and command of scales. He used unusual

scales in his cadenzas, giving an exotic and often suspensefiil flavor. Hamilton

played cadenzas in "Festival Junction" (Transcription 8), "Harlem" (Transcription 9)

(both of which are discussed in chapter VII), "V I.P .'s Boogie" (unreleased live

recording, and The 1953 Pasadena Concert) and "Supreme Being" (Second Sacred

Concert).

Importantly, there are several roles that Hamilton did not often play as a

soloist. He rarely played solos in ballads, in blues compositions, or in slow or 47 medium "groove" pieces. Certainly Ellington was aware of Hamilton’s weaknesses as

well as his strengths, and therefore avoided giving Hamilton solos in certain

situations.

I have discovered only a few Hamilton solos in ballads, including "Contrasts"

(1962, Recollections of the Big Band Eral and "The Tattooed Bride" (The 1953

Pasadena Concert). Both are effective solos, perhaps because both pieces utilized

intricate harmonies and complex, exotic melodies that suited Hamilton well. In a

recording of "Sophisticated Lady" (1952, Seattle Concert), a more conventional

ballad, Hamilton played a short solo that was quite ineffective, because he played too

many notes.

Although blues pieces were common in Ellington’s repertoire. Hamilton was,

notably, rarely a soloist in them. His fine solos in "Festival Junction" (1956,

Ellington at Newport) and "Beale Street Blues" (1947, Transblucencvl are

exceptional.

Finally, Hamilton was rarely a soloist in medium "groove" style pieces,

although he did play successful solos in three medium tempo movements of the

Nutcracker Suite: "Entr’Acte," "Dance of the Floreadores" ("Waltz of the Flowers,"

now in 4/4 time) and "The Volga Vouty" ("Russian Dance"). In these pieces he used

blues inflections such as flat thirds and bent notes quite effectively.

"Tenderly" (1957, Ellington Indigos) is also a "groove" piece featuring

Hamilton. By assigning the trombones to play the melody while Hamilton played

interjections, Ellington (or whoever the arranger was) disguised Hamilton’s relative 48 lack of skill in this style, alleviating Hamilton of the responsibility for playing the melody with a swinging groove. This piece is an example of what Carr, Fairweather, and Priestly referred to, writing "the possible jazz deficiencies of [Hamilton’s] playing were cleverly minimized by Duke Ellington" (1988, p. 209).

"Ad Lib on Nippon" and "Air Conditioned Jungle"

Two of Hamilton’s most significant solos with Ellington deserve detailed discussion: "Air Conditioned Jungle" (1945) and "Ad Lib on Nippon" (1965). These

two compositions have much in common, despite the twenty years that elapsed

between them. Both are clarinet feature numbers, both have fast tempos, both have

difficult arpeggios in the melody, both feature extended open improvisation with bass

and drum accompaniment, and both have improvised cadenzas.

Although Ellington (1973) listed himself and Hamilton as co-composers of

"Air Conditioned Jungle," Strayhom probably composed the work with Hamilton.

The sound of the ensemble writing suggests that Strayhom may have contributed at

least as much as Ellington. Hamilton (Greenlee, 1991) credited Strayhom with

collaborating with him on the composition. In either case, Hamilton’s input is .

probable because the clarinet part, although difficult, is idiomatically written.

In the introduction to "Air Conditioned," Hamilton executed the fast arpeggios

(m. 17-20) flawlessly and then played the main theme (m. 25-42). An extended solo

with bass and drums accompaniment followed (m. 43-145). In this improvised

passage, Hamilton was quite inventive, developing motives imaginatively and using 49 chromatic pitches without straying from the key of D minor concert. The "open" harmonic setting (there was not a chord progression prescribed, just a key, D minor, for the clarinet and bass to explore) allowed Hamilton to imply harmonies through his

improvisation. Also, without the prescribed phrase lengths often inherent in

traditional chord progressions, Hamilton was free to develop ideas fully.

His partial emulation of Beimy Goodman at this early point in Hamilton’s

career is evident throughout. He quoted from Goodman’s famous clarinet solo on

"Sing, Sing, Sing" in m. 96-103, and used a very slight growl effect as Goodman

often did. Possibly the key of D minor was chosen for Air Conditioned Jungle"

because "Sing, Sing, Sing" is also in D minor.

Hamilton effectively created harmonic tension, a feeling of suspense and

gravity towards the tonic pitch, in several phrases (see Fig. 5). In m. 80-82, his

chromatic, angular triplet phrase led convincingly to the tonic, e-natural, in m. 83.

This resolution in m. 83 then started a larger ascending chromatic sequence in which

Hamilton emphasized f-natural (m. 87), f-sharp (m. 89), and g-natural (m, 93) before

resolving to tonic again in m. 97.

Hamilton exploited the minor key through his skill with melodies of an exotic

nature, although this gives a rather dated "snake-charmer" effect today. For example,

in m. 52-63 he played a suspenseful melody using the harmonic minor scale (Fig. 6).

Also, Hamilton experimented with the improviser’s choices between the variants of

the 6th and 7th scale degrees (here between d and d-sharp and between c and c-sharp 50 in transposed pitch) that are inherent in minor keys (see m. 69-71, m. 105-106, and m. 137-138).

80 j, r~ 3— [ r-3 - -3 — I I— 3- I ± = z x y TT -tr

m

S3L

FIGURE 5. "Air Conditioned Jungle," m. 78-97.

5 Zsi. XX

FIGURE 6. "Air Conditioned Jungle," m. 52-63. 51

Following the reprise of the melody and the ensemble, Hamilton played an extensive cadenza (Fig. 7), an unusual feature for jazz compositions of the time. The cadenza is not as imaginative in a jazz sense as the extended solo described above, but it does contain some excellent technical playing and clever sequences, such as the diminished triad outlines (m. 170-172) and chromatically sliding thirds (m. 172-173).

Both of these passages could well have been taken directly from, or at least inspired by, classical exercises. Starting at the end of m. 174, Hamilton combined a classical motif outlining a B major chord with the blues scale in E, a clever blending of classical and jazz idioms. The descending chromatic series of tritones in m. 175 is perhaps an overly academic device, again pointing to his classical training.

Certainly Hamilton would have worked out some phrases in advance for this performance, but the fact that this solo differs from the alternate take recorded the

same day suggests that he improvised most of the solo.

An appraisal of this piece described Hamilton’s "immaculate, concerto-type

performance" (Horricks, 1977). The description of an Ellington work as a "concerto"

was not new, but was a meaningful way of describing "Air Conditioned Jungle."

Beginning in the late 1930s, Ellington, and later Strayhom, increasingly wrote feature

compositions for individual soloists, sometimes including the word "Concerto" in the

title, such as in "Concerto for Cootie" and "Barney’s Concerto" (or "Clarinet

Lament"). In these works, including "Air Conditioned Jungle," the composers

exploited the individual nature of each soloist, writing something that suited the player

well. Schuller (1989) called these works "vignette concertos." This is an apt 52

description, for although these works do not contain the breadth of, or development

of, musical ideas found in classical concertos, they are in reality character pieces, or

short vignettes, that form a small but coherent whole.

CADENZA lIQ i -4 U ------:--- , 1 i 1 - - h 4 rV r rfc, if r—^i ^ %_ e /e # r.i-- :—I—!—l_ j—l------.. . *

-9*- I

g

T f m .

It

FIGURE 7. "Air Conditioned Jungle," m. 170-175. 53

Another "concerto" for Hamilton was "Ad Lib on Nippon," from 1965.

Because it had a number of basic features in common with "Air Conditioned Jungle,"

"Ad Lib on Nippon" was outwardly a very similar composition. However, in "Ad

Lib on Nippon," Hamilton showed a higher level of artistry.

"Ad Lib on Nippon" apparently was first called "Igloo," a Hamilton

composition inspired by the Ellington Orchestra’s 1964 tour of Japan. Hamilton

wrote "Igloo" for an advertising film for American Airlines promoting "Astrofreight,"

a new air freight handling system. "Igloo," a clarinet feature, later became the final

section of "Ad Lib on Nippon" (Stratemann, 1992) and may have been retitled

"Tokyo" (Ellington, 1973). Ellington apparently composed the first sections of "Ad

Lib on Nippon." Hamilton’s frustration at initially receiving no credit as co­

composer was discussed in chapter II. The following discussion refers only to the

"Igloo," or clarinet solo, portion.

Hamilton began his portion of "Ad Lib on Nippon" (1965, Private Collection,

vol. 10) with a cadenza (Fig. 8), following Ellington’s dreamy and meandering piano

solo. Because Hamilton played a nearly identical cadenza in different performances,

it should not be considered an improvisation. Hamilton’s use of a pentatonic scale

gave the cadenza an oriental atmosphere. He performed the cadenza with a beautiful,

controlled and subdued tone. 54

Cadenza - Freely

‘ i

3

m

FIGURE 8. "Ad Lib On Nippon," m. 1-3.

A steady tempo began at m. 4 with a quick clarinet flourish, paraphrasing the

cadenza. After a brief ensemble passage, Hamilton stated the angular theme, a series

of perfect fourths. After a brief ensemble and solo interlude (m. 39-50), Hamilton

followed with an open solo (m. 51-148). This solo section is similar to the extended

solo in "Air Conditioned Jungle," an open solo based on a single scale or mode, with

bass and drums accompanying, and at a fast tempo. However, the "Nippon" solo is

more imaginative and subtle than the "Air Conditioned" solo. For example, Hamilton

again kept the tonic clear to the listener, but used more imaginative melodic forays,

such as the passage at m. 132-147. His displacements of the beat (notated as meter

changes, in m. 70, 75, and 96) are also striking. His skill in motivic development is 55 evident throughout the solo (see Fig. 9). Finally, his solo in "Nippon” has more

swing, or a more compelling rhythmic energy.

Solo ad lib

7 ? ^ h r - j) r- "h. r

3 3 #%

FIGURE 9. "Ad Lib On Nippon, " m. 51-65.

Hamilton followed the reprise of the theme, m. 4 - 47, with a lengthy cadenza,

displaying considerable technique, as he did in the cadenza in "Air Conditioned.”

However, because he avoided the classical cliches and predictable sequences used in

the "Air Conditioned" cadenza, instead blending his classical knowledge of scales and

intervals with jazz elements, the quality of the cadenza is much higher in "Nippon."

For example, the "Nippon" cadenza (Fig. 10) opened with 4 phrases of similar 56 length, but each had a different harmonic basis. He based his improvisation in m.

150 on an augmented triad, in m. 151 on a tritone, in m. 152 on a series of perfect fourths (quoting the melody from m. 18) and in m. 153 on a blues scale. He continued the blues scale into the next phrase, m. 154, before the final flourish at m.

155.

With the exception of the opening cadenza to "Nippon," the formal structure of these two works is identical: (opening cadenza), technical passage, band passage, melody, open improvisation with bass and drums, reprise of melody, cadenza. In composing "Nippon," Hamilton may have used "Air Conditioned Jungle" as a model, since he considered the latter a successful work (A Duke Named Ellington. 1989). 57

Cadenza - Quickly I

I— j

? r - ' 5 — 1 i r r - - ) — ; 9

m

FIGURE 10. "Ad Lib On Nippon," m. 149-155. 58

Criticism and Evaluation of Hamilton’s Work

Hamilton was a respected musician who received favorable reviews in many

cases, but was also criticized for his playing style. Some critics objected to the

classical aspects of his style, finding it stiff, and a departure from the roots of jazz.

An ongoing and larger debate in the early 1940s about jazz, including

Ellington’s most recent music, is an important point for the consideration of criticism

of Hamilton’s playing. Some critics and fans were supportive of Ellington’s

continued experimentation as a composer and his attempts at writing more complex

works and extended compositions, but some were highly critical of such efforts.

Those who criticized such pieces believed that Ellington the "modernist" was leaving

the field of jazz, and that jazz should be danceable and blues-based. They liked jazz

that was concerned with emotion and voice-like expression, not jazz that emphasized

technique and skill (Tucker, 165-178).

Apparently, to some observers Hamilton was a symbol of this modernist trend

in Ellington’s music; therefore Hamilton received some criticism on that basis, as well

as on his own failings. Incidentally, one of the reviewers that disliked the new

direction of Ellington’s music was John Hammond (1943), whom Jimmy believed was

responsible for his firing by Teddy Wilson (see chapter II).

Not surprisingly, therefore, much of the unfavorable response to Hamilton’s

work seems to have been concentrated at the beginning of his tenure with Ellington,

while this debate raged in the jazz press. Mercer Ellington (1978), Duke’s son and

trumpeter/road manager for the band in the 1960s and 1970s, wrote that older fans 59 were more tolerant of Hamilton’s saxophone playing than his clarinet playing. His explanation was that older fans resented newcomers and modernists like Hamilton, who represented the change in Ellington’s music after the early 1940s. However,

Hamilton’s saxophone solos were more traditional and therefore accepted by these

fans.

Barry Ulanov, a major jazz writer of the time, seems to have had mixed

feelings about Hamilton. He conceded Hamilton’s skill, but still favored Bigard,

saying "in the growth of Jimmy Hamilton as a clarinetist of stature, another sort of

musician is being developed in [Barney Bigard’s] place, but it is true beyond cavil

that Barney is missed" (1946, p. 249). Ulanov found Hamilton’s solo on

"Honeysuckle Rose" at the December 1943 Carnegie Hall concert "underfed" (1943,

p. 211). He may have been referring to Hamilton’s tone, which was thin on

occasion, or perhaps to a lack of interesting material in the solo.

In an essay on Ellington’s band members, one writer conceded that Hamilton

had a unique style different from that of Bigard, but said "unfortunately this

conception [is] a ’legitimate’ one, lacking the warmth of Bigard or Carney" (Aldam,

1957, p. 201).

Barney Bigard stated a typical criticism of Hamilton: "He’s a terrific

clarinetist, but he doesn’t have the soul to go with what he’s doing. He should have

been in studio music. He’s got that studio tone to begin with, and he’s straight and

fluent, but it’s not jazz" (Dance, 1969, p. 89). 60

There were two aspects to this stiffness, or lack of "soul" in Hamilton’s clarinet solos: (a) his occasional failure to adopt the prevailing rhythmic style of the bass and drums, the "groove," and (b) his tendency to play an excessive number of notes.

Hamilton's brief clarinet solo in "Happy-Go-Lucky Local" (1946) is an example. This solo was criticized severely by writer Max Harrison. "One thinks of

Jimmy Hamilton’s antiseptic clarinet solo in...the ’Happy-Go-Lucky Local,’ which destroys the special atmosphere of that score with a completeness that is almost as disconcerting as the promptness with which it is restored the moment he stops"

(Harrison, 1964/1991, p. 390). The piece in question is a musical portrait of a train,

with a pronounced blues style. Harrison’s description is quite apt, for Hamilton’s

solo contradicted the rhythmic feeling of the band. Additionally, Hamilton played far

too many notes to be in good taste, and attempted an ill-advised series of

chromatically sliding chords that were not present in the accompaniment.

In his solo over the ensemble on "Supreme Being" (Second Sacred Concert).

Hamilton was again needlessly busy, also missing the chord progression. Similarly

his dialogue with trombonist Lawrence Brown and saxophonist Johnny Hodges on

"The Feeling of Jazz" (1962, New Mood Indigo) contained far too many notes and

completely missed the rhythmic groove of his colleagues. Though Hamilton played

many fine solos, he made similar errors in a number of solos, such as in the "Main

Title and Anatomy of a Murder" (Anatomv of a Murder). Ironically Hamilton, in

1983, was critical of some younger jazz players who, in his view, played too many 61 notes and played without musical or emotional expression (Setlow), exactly the sort of criticisms that were justifiably made of some of his work.

Max Harrison, whose diatribe on Hamilton’s 1946 solo on "Happy-Go-Lucky"

was discussed above, appears to have had a profound dislike for Jimmy’s playing in

general. In his review of Ellington’s Anatomv of a Murder. Harrison said

"’Sunswept Sunday’ is stodgy non-jazz, aptly featuring Jimmy Hamilton" (1959/1991,

p. 315). Here Hamilton was criticized along with, or as a symptom of, Ellington’s

music. Harrison objected to Hamilton's playing, but also to Ellington’s "non-jazz."

Hamilton played "Sunswept Sunday" with an appropriate semi-classical style, but the

movement in question was not truly jazz, in the purest sense of the word. In

Ellington’s defence, he avoided the word jazz, and was not concerned with

categorization of his music (Dance, 1974), and therefore was probably not concerned

with what comprised "jazz. "

Several examples of favorable reviews should be given. First, a favorable

review of Hamilton’s playing on the Nutcracker Suite said "Hamilton’s musicianship

and taste here seem, as so often, to be wholly positive contributions in their own

right, not calling for those comparisons with the totally different concepts of Barney

Bigard" (Lambert, 1969, p, 11). This confirms that many had compared Hamilton

unfavorably with Bigard.

Hamilton received a favorable review for an early performance with Ellington,

the December 11, 1943 Carnegie Hall concert. Reviewer Colin McPhee found

Hamilton’s solos one of the "high spots" but disliked, "New World A-Comin’," 62

Ellington’s new extended composition (1944, p. 213). Finally, a 1952 review in

Down Beat was very complimentary of Jimmy’s work on "Smada." "Jimmy

Hamilton shares honors with the band throughout, reminding us again that neither

[Buddy] DeFranco nor [Benny] Goodman can claim to have said the last word in the jazz clarinet vocabulary." This comparison with the two most prominent jazz clarinetists of the time is significant.

Although Hamilton did receive some notice in the Reader’s Poll and Critic’s

Poll of Down Beat magazine, voted the best clarinetist in both polls in 1969, he felt slighted by these polls in general. He explained Goodman’s perennial victory in the polls, saying "that’s the way they had it planned, and I realized that. " Hamilton may have been referring to the 1940s or 1950s, because in the 1960s and 1970s Goodman was seldom the winner either. Hamilton said once Goodman won the Gold, Woody

Herman the Silver, and Hamilton the Bronze, because "they had to give [me]

something" (Greenlee, 17-18). He was more recognized in the Critic’s Poll than in

the Reader’s Poll; although the critics voted him second place in 1971 and fourth

place in 1970, he finished lower in the Reader's Poll. CHAPTER V

Russell Procope as a Clarinetist

General Comments

In his tribute to Russell Procope, from Music is Mv Mistress (1973), Duke

Ellington focused on Procope’s mentors and his considerable experience before he joined Ellington. This "pedigree," Procope’s work with many of the greatest jazz musicians of the 1920s and 1930s, had a profound influence on Procope’s playing style and subsequently on the Ellington band into the 1970s.

Russell Procope was a kind of child wonder. He was taught violin at first, but when he heard Fletcher Henderson’s band he was attracted to jazz. The urge grew stronger when his schoolmate Benny Carter got an alto saxophone. He was also drawn to the clarinet, first by the playing of Buster Bailey with Fletcher; then by Omer Simeon’s when he worked with him in Jelly Roll Morton’s band; and after that by Barney Bigard’s when he heard him in King Oliver’s and our band. So you see why even today he is a master of the old New Orleans style on the Albert system clarinet! He worked a while with Chick Webb until he became first alto in Benny Carter’s place with Fletcher Henderson. There he was alongside such idols of his as Coleman Hawkins, Buster Bailey, and, later, Hilton Jefferson. In 1938 he became a part of one of the most outstanding of all combos, John Kirby’s. Kirby and Buster Bailey had been with him in Henderson’s band, and with Charlie Shavers, Billy Kyle, and O’Neil Spencer they were a smash hit everywhere. After World War II he came with us in 1946, and he has been with us ever since. Russell Procope grew up through all this to be a man of dignity and gentility, of clean and gentlemanly appearance. What is more, he became a conscientious, all-around musician, one always to be depended on. (p. 222)

63 64

Procope’s Playing Style

The most noticeable features of Procope’s clarinet playing are his tone and his expressive playing style. His tonal concept derived from that of players in the New

Orleans tradition, and his expression was derived from traditional blues. Whereas his

tone was a major element in the expressiveness of his style, other factors, to be

discussed later, contributed as well.

Procope played with a very broad tone; full but not heavy, and clear but not

thin. His tonal concept can be partly attributed to his emulation of clarinetists Omer

Simeon and Barney Bigard, both of whom were from New Orleans and played with a

characteristic New Orleans sound: a broad, woody timbre with a heavy vibrato and a

certain loose, open quality.

Unlike Hamilton, who used a Boehm system clarinet. Procope played an

Albert system clarinet. Albert instruments were favored by players in the New

Orleans tradition, but are now nearly obsolete. However, Procope denied that the

choice of Albert or Boehm had a significant effect on the tone quality of the player.

"I think what you hear is more a matter of the man than the system. If Barney

Bigard had played Boehm, Buster Bailey Albert, I don’t think they’d have sounded

very different to the way they do now" (Dance, 1969, p. 155). Procope meant that

the desired tonal concept of a player, "what you hear," is the deciding factor in

determining an individual’s tone.

Procope intentionally used the clarinet’s ability to produce different tone colors

in different registers for musical effect. He described these differences: "In the first 65 place, you have so much more register on the clarinet, so much difference of tone; the low tone, the chalumeau; the middle, which they call the throat tone; the medium- high [clarion]; and the altissimo [highest]. They’re all on the same instrument and it’s like having four horns in one" (Dance, 1969, p. 157). Frequently Procope would remain in one register for several measures or even an entire chorus, rather than change registers frequently.

Procope used the chalumeau register, the lowest octave of the clarinet’s range,

to great advantage, because this register can be played with a richer tone than any

other register of the clarinet. In fact, the chalumeau register became Procope’s

"signature." It also served to distinguish his playing from that of Hamilton, who used

the chalumeau sparingly and with an entirely different timbre.

In the chalumeau register. Procope often played a beautiful, quiet "subtone," a

soft tone with reduced focus and some "fuzz" in the sound. Subtone is most easily

produced in the chalumeau. Examples of Procope’s subtone are "Blues to Be There"

(Transcription 5), the melody section (m. 1-13); "Way Early Subtone," from

Anatomv of a Murder: "The Mooche," m. 14-22 (Transcription 7); and "Red Carpet,

part 1," from Toot Suite.

When playing louder in the chalumeau, Procope’s tone became crisper and

clearer, but without losing its breadth. "Mood Indigo" (Transcription 12, m. 17-48)

and "Swamp Goo" (Transcription 17, m. 61-81 and 97-111) are good examples.

Procope did not limit himself exclusively to the chalumeau in these passages, but the

combination of clarity and warmth in the tone is evident. 66

In the clarion, or middle register of the clarinet, from b' to c \ Procope’s tone was more direct and brilliant than in the chalumeau. He used the clarion register in his second solo chorus on "Swamp Goo" (Transcription 17, m. 83-96) and in

"Harlem" (Transcription 9, m. 36-51), where the crispness of his clarion tone helped

to create a plaintive effect.

Although most clarinetists in the New Orleans tradition made extensive use of

the altissimo, or highest register of the clarinet. Procope used it only sparingly.

When he did use the altissimo. Procope could produce either a clear, singing sound

(see "Creole Love Call," Transcription 7, m. 1-12) or a loose, throaty tone that

produced a passionate effect (see "Second Line," Transcription 15, from m. 23 on).

I believe that Procope used the altissimo register sparingly for two reasons; (a) The

chalumeau, at which he excelled, became strongly identified with his playing, and (b)

Hamilton, a master of the altissimo, assumed the role of playing lively and technical

solos in the high register.

Procope, in the traditional manner of jazz wind instrumentalists, used timbrai

variations extensively, not just from one register to another, but often from note to

note. Changing the tone quality several times in a short phrase, by varying the air

stream and embouchure, was an essential part of Procope’s very expressive musical

language.

Procope’s improvised solo from "Blues to Be There" (Transcription 5, m. 14-

27) is an example of his use of such timbrai variations. Procope played many of the

notes with a subtone, and many with a relatively unfocused tone, close to a subtone. 67

However, in each phrase Procope emphasized at least one pitch considerably. This emphasis was more than an increase in loudness, because he also changed the timbre on the emphasized notes, making them crisper and more distinct. Procope most often emphasized pitches on the first note or highest note of a phrase. Additionally, he tended to utilize subtone for the long pitches at phrase endings. However, Procope avoided the possible monotony of this device by accenting notes in various parts of

the phrases. In m. 26, for example. Procope varied the timbre in the three trilled

notes. The effect was particularly noticeable here because of the repeated pitches.

Procope’s rhythmic style was crucial to his playing. He utilized a flexible,

rather than a mechanical or mathematically perfect, approach to rhythm. Many of

Procope’s phrases seem to be defined rhythmically not by the pulse and meter of the

piece, but by the first and last notes of the phrase, and by the emphasized, or

accented, notes described above. Many of his phrases consist of a flurry of notes

ending in a long note, such as in Figure 11, an excerpt from "Blues To Be There." m

Fm^

FIGURE 11. "Blues To Be There," m. 19-22. 68

Typically, in these flurries of notes culminating in a long note, Procope carefully placed the first note in relation to, but not necessarily on the pulse, and the long final note of the phrase allowed him time to prepare the next phrase. He played the intervening notes with a remarkable sense of freedom. He did not play in ignorance of the beat, yet gave each phrase a life of its own; each phrase was a small piece of oratory, transcending the mathematical implications of rhythmic alignment.

In most of his solos. Procope consistently used fairly long phrases with minimal articulation. An excerpt from "Mood Indigo" (Fig. 12) shows Procope’s typical phrasing: He played mostly two-measure phrases, and he rarely used any articulation other than on the first note and breath articulations on accented notes. In comparison to swing and especially bebop styles, both of which used clipped notes and small note groupings. Procope created long and connected phrases.

p

FIGURE 12. "Mood Indigo," m. 33-38. 69

Procope created phrases that were independent of the pulse and meter by using an inner logic, rather than the monotony of two or four measure groupings, to regulate phrase length and placement. He often started phrases in mid-measure and in mid-beat, and tended to phrase across the barline. Figure 13 shows this: Procope started each phrase in a different part of the measure, but played a note that carried across the barline at each phrase ending.

Procope’s long, connected phrases are most natural and evident in medium or slow tempos. However, even in "Second Line" (Transcription 16) the two-measure slurred groupings are evident, despite the fast tempo and robust style. A few

examples are m. 28-29, 44-45, 54-56, 65-66, and 76-77. [Â] Bl.6 s a w 4 ?

^[,6 (inaudible)

m

FIGURE 13. "Swamp Goo," m. 73-77.

Procope’s control of the larger strucmre of his solos contributed to his highly

expressive style. Especially in slow to medium tempo pieces, he exercised excellent 70 control of the energy, pacing and climax of each solo. For example, in "Swamp

Goo" and in "Mood Indigo" Procope controlled the pacing and expression of his solos partly through the successive use of higher registers. In "Swamp Goo" (Transcription

17) Procope stated the melody in m. 61-72, exclusively in the chalumeau register. In his second chorus, beginning the improvisation (m. 73-82). he used a slightly higher tessitura, increasing the energy slightly. In the third chorus (m. 85-96. but essentially starting in m. 83) he played considerably higher. This created a much higher energy level, as Procope’s tone became brilliant and lively. This third chorus is the climax, for a quick drop of register in m. 93-96 created a relaxation before the reprise in m.

97. Figure 14 shows how Procope used the change of register in m. 83 to prepare the higher energy level in the third chorus at 85. G7

83 Bte :

FIGURE 14. "Swamp Goo," m. 80-88. 71

Similarly, in his solo in "Mood Indigo" (Transcription 12), Procope used the introduction of higher notes (m. 35-39) to increase the energy and to signal the climax before creating a relaxation at the end of the solo (m. 47-48) by playing a subdued chalumeau passage.

In "The Mooche" (Transcription 7, m. 14-37), Procope shaped the energy level imaginatively despite the brevity of the solo. He played the initial low passage at m. 14 calmly, building quickly to a brief climax in m. 23-24. After beginning the following section softly. Procope increased the tension by repeating the chromatic passage, gradually softer. He replaced the chromatic passage with a single trilled note at m. 30, and added to the suspense by using random accents within the trill.

Procope faded the trill until it was inaudible, leaving Ellington to resolve the tension with a final low E-flat from the piano (m. 38). Procope held the energy of the

moment expertly, controlling the focus of the listener. It was a masterful

performance.

Procope’s improvisations have a strong linear logic, which means they center

around melody and motivic development, not around the accompanying harmony.

His harmonic skills were conventional and more than adequate. The previous section

described Procope’s rhythm and phrasing, and therefore partly described the nature of

his melodic constructions. However, Procope’s pitch choices and the relation

between melody and harmony in his solos should be considered.

First, Procope was skilled at improvising appropriate passages for the given

harmony; in musician’s jargon he "made the changes." However, he did not allow 72 the harmony to dictate melodic choices. A good example is m. 21-23 of "Blues To

Be There" (Fig. 15), where despite the change of harmony at m. 22, he repeated the melody (an octave lower), creating linear continuity. He used a similar technique in

"Mood Indigo": m. 43 to 44 (Fig. 16) and again in m. 47-48. In both cases he made slight note changes while repeating a motif, which preserved the melodic emphasis of the passage while maintaining the correct harmony.

Fm?

fast Rubato

FIGURE 15. "Blues To Be There," m. 21-23

F Fm 43

FIGURE 16. "Mood Indigo," m. 43-44. 73

Even in those passages where Procope directly arpeggiated a chord, he did so in a manner that created more linear interest than harmonic interest. "Mood Indigo" contains a good example. In m. 33 and 34 Procope outlined the C* chord and the D’ chord, which might have been a rather pedantic device. However, he outlined the

two chords by utilizing identical contours, giving a sense of forward motion, and then

countered these two ascending measures with two descending measures. The four-

measure phrase, m. 33-36 (Fig. 17), as a result includes a question and an answer, an

effective melodic construction.

33

FIGURE 17. "Mood Indigo," m. 33-36.

Procope’s pitch choice in his improvisations reveals knowledge of, and

attention to diatonic harmony, but with a strong sense of blues melodic techniques.

He used neither a diatonic nor a blues approach exclusively. In other words, in most

cases Procope chose notes from the chord and scale used in the accompaniment, but

he also freely added blues style inflections such as bent notes, slides, and notes from

the blues scale. Procope’s solo from "Mood Indigo" (Figure 18) contains an example 74 of his use of the blues scale: In m. 40 the the and the A" are not part of the

G’ chord, yet are not dissonant because of their blues character and Procope’s creation of an effective melodic construction.

I

FIGURE 18. "Mood Indigo," m. 39-40.

One might overlook Procope’s excellent technique, because emotional, rather

than technical, aspects were the focus of his playing. For example, in the "The

Mooche" (Transcription 7, m. 14-24) Procope played a clarinet duet with Hamilton.

Procope played the principal part, Hamilton an echoing accompaniment. The passage

culminated with two cascading arpeggios: Hamilton played an arpeggio first and then,

surprisingly, Procope echoed him almost exactly (Fig. 18). Such technical flourishes

were common in Hamilton’s solos, but Procope matched Hamilton’s technique in this

example. Whereas technique was a central focus of Hamilton’s playing, technique

was a means to an end in Procope’s playing; the end was his engaging, expressive

style.

Later in the same solo (m. 25-29), Procope deftly played fast chromatic runs

while also demonstrating his control of soft dynamics. A film of an Ellington 75 performance of this piece shows that Procope used a precise and correct finger technique, without wasted motion (Reed Rovaltv. 1989).

Procope Ip- m

Hamilton

± z f Diano a Hamilton's part ends •5-1

% T

FIGURE 19. "The Mooche," m. 23-24.

Procope also demonstrated strong technical skill in the frequent bursts of notes

in his clarinet solos. Although these flurries may not sound technically difficult, great

skill is required to play them as cleanly and precisely as Procope did. "Swamp Goo"

contains several good examples of his precise bursts of notes. The arpeggios in m. 76 89, 90, and 93 are clean and seemingly effortless, as are the 32nd note passages in

the cadenza (Fig. 20).

107

FIGURE 20. "Swamp Goo," m. 107-108.

Procope’s Role as a Clarinet Soloist

Procope played a limited role as a clarinet soloist, generally playing solos only

in blues compositions or pieces with a New Orleans flavor. Of Procope’s solos

considered for this smdy, most are blues compositions. Those solos that lacked a

blues harmonic progression ("Mood Indigo," "Jazz Festival Jazz," "Idiom ’59, part

1," and "Second Line") generally had a blues melodic style.

Ellington also utilized Procope to recapture the style of the New Orleans

clarinet tradition, which had been an important timbre and style in the Ellington canon

since the 1920s. Procope’s solos on "Mood Indigo," "The Mooche," "Jazz Festival

Jazz," and "Creole Love Call" are examples of this nostalgic style. Harry Carney, 77 who performed with both Procope and Bigard, said that Procope was very successful at imitating Bigard’s style (DeMichael, 1962). Indeed Procope was sometimes

required to recreate Bigard’s solos almost note-for-note, not just play in a similar

manner to him.

Procope rarely played clarinet solos in fast tempo pieces. Other than a few

solos recorded at informal "jam session" recording sessions, his countermelody solo

in "Second Line" is the only fast tempo solo discovered for this study. The solo in

"Second Line" is excellent, leading one to wonder why Ellington didn’t use Procope

in such settings more often. I feel Ellington used Procope wisely, however. Except

for the introduction. Procope never played alone in "Second Line," but played solo

interjections between ensemble statements. Here his unique timbre was more

effective as a "flavoring" than it would have been as a single featured voice.

Context and Accompaniment

In many cases, Ellington and Strayhom contrasted Procope’s simple and

emotional playing with a complex or unusual accompaniment; few of Procope’s solos

utilized only the rhythm section (piano, bass, and drums) as accompaniments. Of the

solos considered for this study, only in "Mood Indigo" and "Swamp Goo" did

Procope play extensively with only the rhythm section accompanying. For example.

Procope improvised with other players: with Hamilton in "The Mooche" and with a

Dixieland band in "Jazz Festival Jazz." 78

Ellington used a variety of ensemble accompaniments for Procope’s solos. He used brass instruments for backgrounds to Procope’s solos in "Blues To Be There,"

"Idiom ’59, part 1," and "Red Carpet, part 1." In "Second Line" Procope’s

countermelody was concurrent with the powerful ensemble melody, and in "4:30

Blues" Ellington used a full ensemble accompaniment to Procope’s solo.

Ellington composed a number of pieces in which Procope played a New

Orleans style, but with a relatively modem accompaniment not in a New Orleans

style. Examples are "Blues To Be There," "Red Carpet, part 1," "Idiom ’59, part

1," "4:30 Blues," and "Swamp Goo." These compositions vary significantly in style,

but all use Procope’s unique and nostalgic style against a much more modem, or in

some cases unusual, background.

Ellington’s use of dense or complex accompaniments for Procope’s solos

appears to have been a way of avoiding the monotony that could result otherwise.

Procope, although a very expressive player, had a limited musical vocabulary. In this

sense Ellington minimized Procope’s deficiencies by providing rich, contrasting

backgrounds for his solos.

Literature and Criticism

For much of his career Procope was an established and respected but

unheralded musician; later in his career he became somewhat celebrated as an

exponent of a traditional but vanishing style of playing. Procope was respected as a

sideman, or ensemble member, but his early recordings are not considered a major 79 jazz efforts. "Procope didn’t number among the Kings of Jazz. But he was a highly rated by fellow musicians, who knew his strengths, as a top-notch professional. He was of course, principally a side-man and a talented one who played good lead alto"

(Jones, 1981, p. 27).

Procope’s playing with the John Kirby Sextet (1937-1943) resulted in more recognition. Jack Armitage (1959, p. 5) said that "his playing had by now [1937] reached a standard reached by few other alto players." Similarly, an obituary of

Procope read "[Procope’s] alto talent was given free rein for the first time in the John

Kirby years and it was with this excellent, highly progressive sextet that Russell

achieved some international recognition during the early war years" (Jones, 1981, p.

27).

Procope seems to have become somewhat more celebrated in the 1950s and

1960s, for several articles appeared about him in the jazz press, and Procope wrote a

nostalgic article himself in 1967 for Jazz Journal. Certainly his increased solo duties

with Ellington in the 1950s were part of the reason for his increased recognition.

Procope’s adherence to the traditional New Orleans maimer of playing

attracted some attention. Obituaries of Procope mentioned his New Orleans style.

Also, Armitage wrote "[Procope’s] musical roots are embedded in the true jazz

tradition and he has remained faithful to that tradition throughout his career" (1958,

p. 5). It can be noted that Armitage’s suggestion that there is one true tradition in

jazz confirms the existence of an anti-modemist camp among jazz listeners. Armitage

appears to have assumed New Orleans style represented the "true" jazz tradition. 80

Late in his career. Procope had some success in the Critic’s Poll of Down Beat magazine. After many years of receiving few votes, he was named Outstanding

Clarinet by the critics for 5 consecutive years, 1969-1973, before dropping to second in 1974 and third in 1975. In Down Beat’s Reader’s Poll, Procope was less heralded; third place in both 1970 and 1971 were his highest finishes. CHAPTER VI

Hamilton and Procope as Saxophonists

General Comments

Although Hamilton and Procope played most of their solos on the clarinet, both played some saxophone solos and both played saxophone extensively in ensemble. An examination of their solos indicates that both men utilized markedly different styles when playing saxophone as opposed to clarinet. This phenomena will

be considered using transcribed examples of their saxophone solos, and statements in

the literature.

Playing in the Section

Both Procope and Hamilton were important as section players because of their

training and their skill in music reading. Because the other players did not always

play precisely or pay attention to details, Hamilton, Procope and Harry Carney took

the responsibility for making the saxophone section play cleanly (Setlow, 1983).

Procope most often played the lead or first saxophone part (Dance, 1969).

The role of the lead saxophonist is an important one. In addition to playing the

uppermost voice of harmonized passages, the lead player must establish, either by

example or verbally, the stylistic parameters for the saxophone section for each piece.

81 82

To establish these parameters, the lead player must maintain a high level of consistency that will allow the other players to accurately match the style, and even

anticipate the style that the lead will employ in a particular situation.

As a tenor saxophonist, Hamilton played an inner voice in the section, rarely

if ever playing the lead voice. Yet Hamilton’s skill as a saxophonist was still

important, for Ellington and Strayhom wrote a number of difficult passages for the

saxophone section that required precision from all of the players.

Hamilton as a Saxophone Soloist

Whereas Hamilton’s clarinet playing was clean and refined, his saxophone

playing was uninhibited and coarse. "Although he has strong classical tendencies on

the clarinet, he always more or less leaned toward the funky on tenor. " Duke

Ellington gave this apt comparison of Hamilton’s clarinet and saxophone playing

styles (1973, p. 220). Similarly, Brask and Morgenstem describe Hamilton as

"Jimmy Hamilton of the impeccable clarinet and raunchy tenor sax..." (1976, p. 116).

Hamilton’s solo on "Rock City Rock" (Transcription 14, The World of Duke

Ellington, vol. 3, 1957), a highly engaging and emotional blues statement, is typical

of his saxophone solos. Hamilton played the rhythm-and-blues style utilized in "Rock

City Rock ” with great skill. One source said "[Hamilton’s] comparatively rare tenor

solos sounded like the better R & B players." (Carr, et al, 1988, p. 209). In other

words, Hamilton played simply and forcefully, used the blues scale extensively, and

used blues mannerisms like growling, pitch bends, and flexible rhythm. Because 83

Hamilton played with a clear rhythm, matched the style employed by the rhythm

section, used generally familiar blues melodic devices, and played aggressively, this

solo is very accessible to most listeners. The fact that Hamilton was not highly

skilled as a blues soloist on clarinet is surprising given his mastery of blues on

saxophone.

Hamilton’s saxophone solo on "Bensonality" (Transcription 3, 1951, The

World of Duke Ellington, vol. 3) is also effective. Hamilton played only one 12-

measure chorus, yet made a concise and energetic statement. He showed mastery of

the difficult key and outlined the harmonic progression well. In "Bensonality,"

Hamilton’s rhythmic style was flexible and declamatory; he chose rhythms that were

not symmetrical or regularly spaced, but rather chose rhythms that suggest speech

rhythms. Figure 20 gives an example of this expressive and robust rhythmic style,

but as with most jazz performances, the rhythm cannot be accurately transcribed using

conventional notation.

^ j= 1 1 2 e!>6 JX i. ^ i

3 ------:

FIGURE 21. "Bensonality," m. 1-5. 84

The "Bensonality" solo demonstrates the strongest attribute of Hamilton’s saxophone playing: his ability to retain the rhythmic control displayed in his clarinet solos, while using increased rhythmic freedom and a more emotional style.

Hamilton’s role as a saxophone soloist was mostly limited to blues compositions like "Rock City Rock" and "Bensonality." This is quite logical, for

Hamilton could not match the ballad interpretations of alto saxophonist Johnny

Hodges or the intense and convoluted tenor saxophone improvisations of Paul

Gonsalves. Indeed, Hamilton was the best choice as soloist for the straightforward saxophone style needed for rhythm-and-blues pieces such as "Rock City Rock" and

"Bensonality." These two compositions are the finest examples of Hamilton’s saxophone playing reviewed for this study. Hamilton also recorded successful solos

in similar settings on "Street Blues" (The 1953 Pasadena Concert) and Mercer

Ellington’s "Taffy Twist," (The Feeling of Jazz).

John Chilton (1988) wrote "[Hamilton’s] occasional performances on tenor

saxophone, at which he was not technically adept, have a guttural exuberance which

transmits the joyful qualities so often lacking in his clarinet playing." Part of

Chilton’s statement seems unjust, for although "guttural exuberance" is a good

characterization of Hamilton’s saxophone style, Hamilton did not lack technique on

the saxophone. In "Rock City Rock" Hamilton displayed good technique including

some skill in the extended upper register of the saxophone (m. 24-25 and 28-29).

Another example of Hamilton’s technical facility on saxophone is "Perdido"

(The Great Paris Concert). Hamilton played a difficult unison melody, a long and 85 winding bebop melody with tenor saxophonist Paul Gonsalves. The two men seem to play with ease, because they play softly and smoothly, and with a well-unified style.

Two examples of a Hamilton saxophone solo on a non-blues piece were found, and in these contexts he was less successful. He played a 16-measure improvised solo on "Cherokee" (Transcription 6, Recollections of the Big Band Era). Hamilton used a clear rhythmic style, but had difficulty with the chord progression. Especially in m.

5-8 (Fig. 22), his playing was inappropriately diatonic; he meandered in the key of C without clearly finding the harmonic changes. This difficulty contrasts with his playing in blues-oriented saxophone solos, where Hamilton made skillful use of

chromatic pitches to either augment or delineate the harmony. The last 8 bars of the

solo (see Fig. 23) were more successful because he returned to the more guttural and

blues oriented style that characterized his solos on blues compositions. On "Happy

Anatomy" from Anatomv of a Murder. Hamilton played a solo similar to his solo on

"Cherokee." Again he seems uncomfortable in his saxophone solo, playing timidly

and without harmonic clarity.

P6 8^7 ,

T-'jr- E a ^ (ghost) fatosl

FIGURE 22. "Cherokee," m. 5-8.

FIGURE 23. "Cherokee," m. 13-16. 86

Hamilton played the saxophone with a very full but clear tone, resembling his model, Ben Webster (Greenlee, 1991). However, Hamilton never demonstrated

Webster’s skill at playing ballads or improvising at fast tempos. Because his tone contrasted with Gonsalves’ lighter, fuzzier sound, Hamilton was an alternate color to

Gonsalves on Ellington’s timbrai "palette."

Despite several reports that Hamilton disliked the saxophone, whether he liked playing the instrument is not clear. He was displeased with having to play tenor saxophone when he joined Ellington in 1943 (Setlow, 1983). Early in his tenure with

Ellington, Hamilton was described as having frequent good-natured arguments over

his favorite instrument, the clarinet. He described the clarinet as "a very intelligent

instrument" (Boyer, 1944, p. 245). However, Stanley Dance, a reviewer and author

very close to Ellington and the Orchestra for many years, reported that Hamilton

"affected to despise" the tenor saxophone (1976), so part of Hamilton's grumbling

may have been light hearted. An additional indication that Hamilton liked playing the

saxophone comes from a recording he made late in his life (Rediscovered at the

Buccaneer. 1985). In this recording Hamilton played saxophone, both alto and tenor,

more than clarinet. As a leader of his own group in this recording, he played the

saxophone in settings in which Ellington rarely featured him. I find his playing on

this recording to be adequate but not impressive or captivating. 87

Procope as a Saxophonist

Russell Procope’s role as a saxophonist was much different from Hamilton’s.

Probably because he was overshadowed by his colleague in the Ellington band,

Johnny Hodges, one of the greatest players of his instrument. Procope recorded few saxophone solos. Schuller (1989) stated that Procope was valued as a lead player and as a strong reader, but was never a major Jazz soloist.

Procope did inherit some solos, such as the solo in "Black and Tan Fantasy,"

from his predecessor Otto Hardwicke. A transcription of this solo from The Great

Paris Concert is Figure 24 (and Transcription 4). Procope played this written melody

in the tradition of Hardwicke’s earlier interpretations, but added his personal

interpretation. Procope’s used a smooth and expressive tone, an elegant style, and

showed a refined sense of timing in the arpeggios in m. 6 and 14. He subtly varied

the second statement of the phrase (m. 9-16).

As a saxophone soloist Procope was at his best in ballad settings like "Black

and Tan Fantasy." Procope was the saxophone soloist in "Indian Summer," also a

ballad. He played effective solos in two Ellington versions of the song, one backing

Frank Sinatra. 88

GÜdim. C m

Em f i j G A9 D9 G C9 b !»9

r r ^ r j t ___ '«■'»»« f « f # I* - 3#' *--i-_J- I ■ i ' ' ^ -L |V -ygj m Ét) G^dim. Q6 Cm G 12 n - f t . f ' f I u 7* 4 $ H b Em^ A^_____5__------1 $ ■ • d r , I, I r'tYx -f=r FIGURE 24. "Black and Tan Fantasy," entire saxophone solo.

Gunther Schuller made an interesting observation about some of Procope’s

saxophone solos. In describing Procope’s earlier saxophone playing in the John Kirby

Sextet, Schuller says that "Procope often resorted to merely ’running the changes,’ as

musicians call it, mostly in arpeggios and other melodic cliches" (1989, p. 814).

Procope’s alto saxophone solo on "Jump for Joy" (Transcription 12, New Mood

Indigo) is an example of what Schuller called "running the changes." Procope played 89 the solo with an appropriate swing rhythmic style, but missed a number of the chords

(m. 3, 4, 6, 7, 33) and simply outlined, or "ran" some of the others. Because

Procope lacked clear harmonic control and direction, this solo gives the impression of

"killing time." However, Procope did create several effective melodic constructions in this solo, such as the use of chromatic pitches at m. 16-17, 24-25 and 36-37.

Procope’s initial break, or unaccompanied lead-in phrase (m. 1-2), is also very

effective because of the clarity and excitement of his fast notes.

The only fast-tempo saxophone solo that Procope seems to have played on a

regular basis is from "Jam with Sam" (Fig. 25 and Transcription 10, Seattle Concert!.

This piece is a 12-measure blues used to briefly feature and introduce to the audience

a number of the band members. Following a four-measure ensemble passage, each

soloist played a 20-measure solo.

A number of aspects to Procope’s solo are unusual. First, Procope appears to

have rarely varied the solo in more than 10 years of performance; Procope played

essentially the same solo in five different live recordings from 1952 to 1963. There

is some precedent for Procope’s repetition of this solo: Other members of the

Ellington Orchestra, such as Johnny Hodges, had particular phrases that they would

use consistently in certain solos. However, Procope’s solo in "Jam with Sam" seems

exceptional because the entire solo was repeated for years, and the other soloists on

the same song did vary their solos. A reviewer’s statement that Procope played the

"current version of his ’Jam with Sam’ chorus" (Lambert, 1963, p. 345) indicates that

the solo was familiar to the reviewer and varied only slightly. 90

Second, Procope did not follow the expected blues harmonic progression that was utilized elsewhere in the composition. Ellington did not play during Procope’s solo, so no piano clarifies the harmony. The various bassists heard in recordings find different solutions to providing harmony for Procope’s solo, but most seem confused.

Third, Procope played a series of short umrelated phrases. Following the four-

measure band lead-in. Procope repeated a two-measure phrase for the balance of the

first chorus (m. 5-12), using mostly the 2nd and 6th scale degrees. M. 13 through 16

used chord outlines, alternating between the A major and B-flat major chords (in

transposed pitch). A trumpet player provided harmony in m. 13-16 of this recording.

This brief passage is reminiscent of melodies played by Charlie Parker and Dizzy

Gillespie, because the trumpet and alto saxophone played clipped melodic phrases in

close harmony. In m. 17 and 18 Procope quoted from Ellington’s composition "I’m

Beginning to See the Light," and then continued into a new four-measure phrase. He

closed the solo with a rhythmically clever and technically difficult series of turns and

trills.

I find this solo to be bizarre and ineffective for several reasons. First,

although the other solos on this song do not sound dated. Procope’s does. Second,

the series of unrelated phrases makes the solo sound confused. Finally, the lack of a

clearly implied harmonic sequence is disconcerting. It should not be assumed that

Ellington was displeased with the solo, however, for the solo was virtually intact for

years. Also, Jones (1981, p. 27) wrote that the "Jam with Sam" solo did not satisfy

Procope, but that Duke asked him to "keep it in." Don George, a lyricist who 91

collaborated with Ellington, said (1981, p. 5) that Ellington did not value the

"abstractions" of jazz soloists. This indicates that Ellington was not interested in the

contorted, complex improvisations of some jazz improvisors. Ellington therefore may

have liked the novelty of Procope’s striking and melodic, if bizarre, solo from "Jam

with Sam."

J = 244 . ,

'm

sax. 1 sa:(. only '--f rnL jf n -M)- 3-- f -- ^4 —*— 5— 5— -*— !-- L-cL-J— [ T 5-5 — !------^ tpt. (here in Eb)

A ^ —^f'-T r f b f r '1 — ) * ; ; TO ^ --- V\

FIGURE 25. "Jam with Sam," entire saxophone solo.

A final example of a saxophone solo by Procope is his role as the train whistle

in "Happy-Go-Lucky Local" (The Jazz Collector’s Edition). He played a series of

wailing notes, using an extreme pitch bend, to imitate a steam engine whistle. 92

Summary

Hamilton, an excellent blues soloist on tenor saxophone, was limited almost exclusively to blues pieces as a soloist. Hamilton was an important section player because of his ability to play with precision and his habit of coaching other section members on precision.

As a saxophonist. Procope was limited largely to his section and lead playing, both significant roles. In his occasional solos he was most effective in ballads and in

imitating the style of his predecessor Hardwicke. His opportunities for fast tempo

solos were limited. CHAPTER VII

Compositions using Both Hamilton and Procope

General Comments

The musical styles of both Procope and Hamilton have been established in the

preceding chapters. Like most of Ellington’s players, both men were distinctive

voices in his orchestra. In addition to crafting music specifically for Procope and for

Hamilton, Ellington and Strayhom crafted music which accentuated the contrast

between the two, making the contrast itself a musical device. In these examples the

contrasting styles of the two clarinetists were juxtaposed in either simultaneous or

consecutive solos.

Ellington and Strayhom accentuated this contrast by controlling the melody,

harmony, and orchestration for each soloist. The contrast then became an element of

the larger structure of the music. This was not a pervasive technique in the Ellington

repertoire, but there were enough instances, some following a pattern, to regard it as

a compositional technique.

93 94

Ensemble Playing and Blend

Before discussing examples of contrasting solos, it should be established that

Hamilton and Procope were quite capable of blending together on clarinet when functioning in an ensemble setting. If Ellington required them to play together rhythmically but not as soloists, they blended their differing tone colors quite well and played with a unified style. In fact, distinguishing the two in these instances is not always easy. Because Hamilton and Procope functioned as ensemble players more than as soloists, it is not surprising that they displayed good ensemble skills. A few examples of such unified ensemble passages will suffice.

Ellington composed a number of works in the 1920s and 1930s which included clarinet trios, such as "The Mooche" and "Creole Love Call." Ellington’s band performed both of these pieces frequently in the 1950s and 1960s. Because these

trios require the clarinets to play melodies in three-part harmony, a unified ensemble

style is imperative. These pieces call for a wide. New Orleans style tone, so either

Procope or Harry Carney played the top voice of the trio. Hamilton played the inner

part where his relatively compact, focused tone was best concealed, but he also

broadened his tone considerably, adding resonance and warmth, to match the other

two players. This effect is audible on a number of Ellington’s later recordings of

these early works, such as Reed Rovaltv. The Great Paris Concert, and Ellington

Uptown.

Ellington used a clarinet trio again on "Swamp Goo," a nostalgic composition

from the late 1960s. Here Hamilton played the top part, but the three clarinets still 95 blended well together because Procope and Carney subdued their tones and Hamilton played with a bit more abandon than usual.

"Pretty and the Wolf" is a Hamilton composition for two clarinets, bass clarinet, bass, and drums, along with Ellington’s humorous narration (Setlow, 1983).

In this semi-classical piece Hamilton played the upper part, and Procope and Carney

adjusted their tone qualities to match fairly well with Hamilton (Hot Summer Dance).

Finally, in The Nutcracker Suite Hamilton and Procope played a semi-classical

duet in "Toot Toot Tootie Toot" ("The Dance of the Reed Pipes"). Again they

matched styles well, each using a clear tone and detached articulation.

Compositions with Contrasting Clarinet Solos

A number of Ellington’s multi-movement compositions featured solos from

Procope and Hamilton in adjacent movements. Contrast was achieved not only

through the inherent stylistic differences between Hamilton and Procope, but also

through control of range, melodic style, and accompaniment.

The first example is the Newport Jazz Festival Suite, first recorded on

Ellington at Newport (1956). Ellington and Strayhom composed three movements in

a fast, slow, fast sequence. The composers balanced Procope’s solo in the second

movement ("Blues To Be There") with Hamilton’s solos in the outer movements

("Festival Junction" and "Newport Up"), forming an "A-B-A" structure in terms of

the solo clarinet timbres. Because Ellington and Strayhom designed the

accompaniment and context for each of the three solos to complement and accentuate 96 the contrasting styles of the two soloists, the contrast became a musical device that impacts the larger structure of the piece.

Hamilton began "Festival Junction" (Transcription 8) with an improvised cadenza marked by varied and somewhat unusual harmonic resources. After starting

in F major (in transposed pitch), he drifted chromatically in m. 4 and 5, before

settling in F major again in m. 6. In m. 7 he outlined a diminished chord and in m.

8 a melodic minor scale. After the fermata in m. 9, Hamilton started with a

diminished whole tone scale on G, and then switched to a whole tone scale for the last

octave of the ascent. Ellington provided harmonic support from the piano by playing

an E9 chord, then D-flat 13 then finally a Gb major 7th. This rather unusual series

of chords and the unusual combination of scales gave the cadenza an exotic and

unsettled feeling. This unsettled feeling continued somewhat in m. 18, where

Hamilton played the melody with rhythm section accompaniment. This jagged blues

melody is centered around two large intervals; A up to F, E’’ down to A** (see Fig.

26). The disjunct nature of the melody, the static and nearly modal accompaniment,

and the 16-measure phrase, rather than the expected 12-measure phrase, gave a

distinctive flavor to the piece. In other words, this piece is a typical setting for a

Hamilton solo. 97 Clarinet solo: Hamilton 19

(|i> J r M i ' V

I - i I \i m a a j —j FIGURE 26. "Festival Junction," m. 19-25.

In m. 35-58 of "Festival Junction," Hamilton played two choruses of

improvisation on a 12-bar blues, a swinging upper register solo, displaying steady

execution and rhythmic vitality. A simple unison riff accompaniment by the

trombones effectively contrasted the high note density of Hamilton’s solo.

In these first three sections—cadenza, melody, and improvisation—Strayhom,

whose name appears on the manuscript, not Ellington’s, successfully exploited

Hamilton’s unique abilities to play exotic material and to use precise technique.

Strayhom started the piece with a vague and unsettled beginning, gradually

establishing a rhythmic and melodic groove.

The acmal manuscript score and parts for "Festival Junction" do not begin

until m. 59 of the recorded example, after this transcribed example is over. On

Hamilton’s original part is a pencil marking: "cadenza, 3 cho’s". Strayhom or

Ellington added Hamilton’s cadenza, melody and improvised solo after the music was

composed and the parts were copied. The fact that this section was not notated does

not diminish the importance of the composer or the significance of the passage, for 98 much of Ellington’s "composing" was not notated, but performed by the musicians after verbal instruction and through oral tradition (Townsend, 196G).

In the second movement, "Blues To Be There," (Transcription 5) Procope played a solo section, a 12-bar blues (in D-flat), beginning with a beautiful and simple melody comprised of only two pitches. The melody was perfectly designed for his soulful expression and rich, woody tone. This melody also is much different in character than the abstract blues melody assigned to Hamilton in the first movement.

Procope’s melody has a most interesting accompaniment. In addition to drums and bass, he was accompanied by a trio of trombones (m. 2-13), just as Hamilton was

in the previous movement. However, this section is poly tonal. The trombones

alternate each measure between the keys of D-flat major and A major, staying in D-

flat during Procope’s whole notes, but playing essentially a 12-bar blues in A major

in the alternate measures. This passage is one of the most striking in Ellington’s

music. Figure 27 shows a portion of this polytonal section. 99 IJ Bb Clar. (Procope) | C ]

Dt®

Dt® G G D e t D A DA i l% m y. a-*- m i |

FIGURE 27. "Blues To Be There," m. 1-8.

Strayhom used the accompaniments to heighten the contrast between the two

soloists. Procope’s simple melody and nostalgic, emotional style are more noticeable

because of the abstract, harmonically rich, and unusual accompaniment; Hamilton’s

more involved, abstract style and his dry delivery are noticeable partly due to the

simple, sparse accompaniment.

The two cadenzas also provided an excellent way for Ellington and Strayhom

to display the contrasting styles of Hamilton and Procope. Procope’s cadenza was

highly expressive and mostly diatonic; Hamilton’s cadenza was emotionally detached

and highly chromatic. Because the cadenzas were both improvised, the composers’ 100 role here was to provide Hamilton and Procope the opportunity to display their personal styles.

In summary, because Hamilton and Procope had comparable solo

opportunities in the first two movements, each playing a melody, an improvised solo,

and an improvised cadenza, the contrast between them was made more direct. By

controlling the context of each solo, Ellington and Strayhom exaggerated this

contrast.

The third movement of the Newport Jazz Festival Suite. "Newport Up," a

very fast and exhilarating piece, seems to compliment the first two movements well,

partly because tliis third movement is quite conventional and therefore provides

finality following the unusual first and second movements. Another element of this

overall balance is the fact that Strayhom assigned Hamilton a solo in third movement

as well (Transcription 13); Hamilton’s solos in the outer movements provide a

symmetry to Newport Jazz Festival Suite. (Hamilton’s solo in "Newport Up" is also

discussed in chapter IV.)

The 1959 recording of Toot Suite contains another example of Ellington

contrasting the two clarinet soloists in consecutive movements. Movements 2,3, and

4 of this six-movement composition all have clarinet solos, and Ellington placed and

designed those clarinet solos similarly to those in the Newport Jazz Festival Suite

from 1956. The second movement, "Red Shoes," is quite similar to the third

movement of Newport and Hamilton again played a lively and effective upper register

solo. 101

In the third movement, "Red Carpet, part 1," Ellington used Procope as he did in "Blues to Be There"; Procope played a simple blues melody in the low register with a trombone trio accompaniment, followed by an improvised chorus of blues.

Procope’s subtone style contrasted with Hamilton’s virtuosic solo, just as the two contrasted in Newport. Even the trombone accompaniments to Procope’s solos were similar in an important respect. The trombones in "Red Carpet, part 1" played dissonant chords, producing a similar effect to the bitonal chords in "Blues To Be

There."

To summarize, Ellington again contrasted Hamilton’s energetic upper register playing with Procope’s woody low register. Again they played in consecutive movements, and with the exception of the cadenzas, in contexts similar to those in

Newport. Ellington appears to have deliberately repeated this technique.

Additionally, the fourth movement of Toot Suite. "Red Carpet, part 2," starts

with a saxophone ensemble section with a clarinet playing a strong lead voice in the

upper register. This upper register passage forms the third portion of a sequence of

three clarinet passages in Toot Suite, similar to the three clarinet passages in the

Newport Jazz Festival Suite. Although I caimot say whether Hamilton or Procope

played this high lead part in "Red Carpet, part 2," Ellington certainly contrasted the

strong upper register clarinet with the simple low register clarinet solo that preceded.

In "Idiom ’59," composed the same year as Toot Suite. Ellington also placed

clarinet solos in a similar manner to those in Newport. In the first movement of

"Idiom ’59," Procope played another low register solo, again with brass 102 accompaniment. In the second movement Hamilton played a typical upper register solo. Because no other solos occur in these movements, the contrast between the two clarinetists is again emphasized.

In "Jazz Festival Jazz" Ellington also used Hamilton and Procope in greatly contrasting solo situations, but the effect and the piece overall are not effective. Most of "Jazz Festival Jazz" appears to be an attempt to imitate, not only through the title, the Newport Jazz Festival Suite, because most of "Jazz Festival Jazz" is very similar to "Newport Up." A later section of the piece is a slow Dixieland section featuring

Procope playing in a New Orleans style. The inclusion of this section is illogical, detracting from the overall musical and structural integrity of the composition. It

does, however, contain another example of Hamilton and Procope playing adjacent

solos that "type-cast" their roles as modem, fast tempo player and New Orleans style

player, respectively.

Solos bv Hamilton and Procope Together

In two instances, Ellington had Hamilton and Procope play together, not in a

unified ensemble style, but with contrasting solo styles. "The Mooche"

(Transcription 7, medley of "Creole Love Call" and "The Mooche"). the first

example, was first recorded in 1928. In the 1963 recording (The Great Paris

Concert). Procope played the clarinet solo, remaining fairly true to the original

melody, but embellishing upon it (Transcription 7, starting at m. 14). 103

As Procope played the melody, Hamilton echoed him by improvising similar phrases in the spaces between Procope’s phrases. Whereas Hamilton’s part was not a

feature of the original version, Ellington added it in 1952 (Dance, 1969). The two

clarinetists played very similar material, but with two different styles. Because one

might expect that an echoing part would have closely mimicked the principal melody,

the effect created by the two clarinetists is an unusual one.

Hamilton and Procope interacted well through this brief passage, alternating

and overlapping nicely. In m. 23 and 24, the two increased the intensity by bringing

their phrases closer together. They played almost the same arpeggio in m. 23, just

before Procope executed a delicate ending (m. 25-37).

As a result of the recording technique of the 1952 recording of this passage

(Ellineton Uptown). Hamilton’s part sounded very distant and difficult to hear. A

pronounced reverberation effect was also used for this recording, rendering the

passage very mysterious. George Avakian, who produced this 1952 recording, said

that the recording technique was Ellington’s idea. Ellington instructed Hamilton to

move to a more reverberant part of the studio, away from the band. He then

instructed the recording engineer to add electronic echo, making a mixture of natural

and electronic echo. After listening to the playback, Avakian advised Ellington that

Hamilton was too soft and they should do another take. Ellington replied that the

effect was just as he wanted it (personal account, 1995).

A second example of Hamilton and Procope playing solos simultaneously is in

"A Tone Parallel to Harlem," one of Ellington’s must significant compositions. Also 104 known as "Harlem," this work was composed in 1950 on a commission from Arturo

Toscanini and the N.B.C. Symphony Orchestra (Collier, 1987).

A single-movement work comprised of many contrasting sections, "Harlem" contained a beautiful chorale-like passage that made sophisticated use of the talents of

Jimmy Hamilton and Russell Procope. The passage (Transcription 9) comes near the middle of the work, and is, in effect, a slow movement.

Hamilton started the section with written cadenza (m. 1). Because the cadenza used ambiguous harmonies and a classical style, it suited Hamilton well. At the beginning of the cadenza, following a brass flourish in F minor, Hamilton meandered in F pentatonic before settling in F major. In m. 2-5 Hamilton played a brief transitional melody with bass accompaniment.

In m. 6, a fascinating thing happened. Ellington took Hamilton’s note in m.

5, a', and passed it to Procope, who entered in m. 6, transforming this single pitch

from one clarinetist to another (Fig. 28). Perhaps this was an intentional way of

easing the transition from the raucous brass soli, through Hamilton’s stark cadenza,

into the blues/chorale melody that Procope played at m. 8. 105

o n A Tempo J = 7 s r 2 f e œ 0 •5 -J Clarinet (Procope) x c if g

Bass (Pizz.) -?cr-W '*'4^ % I a r I')' I r ^

Trombone

n

Tenor Sax

FIGURE 28. "Harlem," m. 2-12

Ellington’s own manuscript of the passage (Fig. 29, p. 107), which appears to

be the original sketch, shows this. On the top line of the second system. Hamilton’s 106 a' is followed directly on the same staff by Procope’s note. This, along with the fact that Ellington wrote the name of the player, not just the instrument, indicates that he saw this spot as a "hand-off," or a timbrai transformation, of the same pitch. The diagonal line to the second staff shows how Hamilton continued, playing an unusual pitch sequence, while Procope waited for his melody to begin at m. 8.

Continuing in this passage, Procope played the beautiful chorale melody while other instruments gradually Joined in, including Hamilton. The two clarinets then played a brief duet up to the climax at m. 23, blending their sounds together rather than contrasting them as they did in m. 5-7.

A trombone player presented the second theme of this chorale section at m. 28 before Procope took the second theme at m. 36, playing with a pronounced New

Orleans style. Hamilton, playing a delicate obbligato above Procope, and a

countermelody by bass clarinet and trombone created a polyphonic texture. Because

he played softly, used no vibrato, and utilized the upper register, Hamilton’s obligato

contrasts with Procope vibrant gospel-like melody. Incidentally, the first half of

Hamilton’s obbligato (m. 36-43) was at first assigned to a trumpet, with Hamilton

entering at m. 44, but by the time of this recording, 1966, Hamilton played the entire

passage. Figure 30 shows part of this countermelody passage, which lasts from m.

36 to m. 51. 107

vUiii '■ %

AW

*• S“ »«* (M«Uuml A U ^ % 0 FIGURE 29. Excerpt of manuscript to "Harlem." (Measure numbers were added to correspond to the complete excerpt in appendix A.) 108

44

Trb. and Bass Clar. mf

FIGURE 30. "Harlem," m. 44-46.

To summarize, Ellington used the two clarinet soloists in three ways in just 51

measures; (a) He contrasted their styles and timbres (m. 1-15), using a clever note

exchange (m. 5-6); (b) he had them play a duet in a matched style (m. 16-23); and

(c) he had one accompany the other with a contrasting style (m. 36-51). CHAPTER VIII

Conclusions

Although Jimmy Hamilton and Russell Procope had active professional careers before and after their tenures with Ellington, the purpose of this study is to consider only their work with Ellington. Importantly, Ellington is as much the topic of this study as Procope or Hamilton, for several reasons. As the primary composer for his orchestra, Ellington had substantial control of what Hamilton and Procope played.

Similarly, as bandleader, Ellington had the prerogative to assign solos and to alter compositions by other composers, including Strayhom, such that everything Hamilton and Procope played was filtered through Ellington.

Because of Ellington’s imaginative use of their talents, a study comparing

Hamilton and Procope in their Ellington years is fruitful; Ellington made an issue of

the stylistic differences between Hamilton and Procope. In contrast, a study

comparing the alto saxophone playing of Johnny Hodges and Russell Procope might

be less fruitful, because Ellington did not make a musical issue of their differences.

A study comparing the playing of Hamilton and Procope before their Ellington years

would be challenging due to an apparent lack of recorded evidence, and because the

important "ingredient" Ellington would be missing.

109 110

As bandleader and as composer Ellington shaped, over time, specific roles that

Hamilton and Procope played as clarinet soloists. Hamilton’s solos were usually in one of five situations: fast tempo pieces with bebop elements, swing pieces with a

Goodmanesque flavor, exotic pieces, semi-classical pieces, or cadenzas. Hamilton was rarely featured in ballads, blues pieces, or "groove" pieces, and the recorded evidence indicates that he was not as skilled in these styles. Some criticism of

Hamilton justly pointed out these weaknesses, but some criticism was unfair, criticizing him on the basis of stylistic biases against Ellington’s more adventuresome works, not on the basis of Hamilton’s skill. Hamilton was indeed a highly skilled

clarinetist, possessing strong and accurate technique, command of the upper register,

and a clear, well-controlled tone. Importantly, Hamilton’s st>lc by the late 1950s was

quite removed from Goodman’s swing style. Hamilton had developed a unique style

fusing a classical timbre with melodic elements of bebop, a keen sense of dissonance,

and imaginative use of small motifs.

Procope played a more limited role as a clarinet soloist, with most of his solos

occurring in compositions that were blues based and/or evocative of New Orleans

jazz. Procope’s role fit his playing; he had a warm, throaty tone, a blues melodic

style, a flexible and expressive sense of rhythm, and a strong sense of the structure

and climax of his solos. Procope played very few clarinet solos in pieces at fast

tempos, or with elaborate chord progressions. It would perhaps be unfair to attribute

this to weaknesses on his part, but better to speak of his limitations. He had a limited I l l harmonic and melodic vocabulary and thus was limited in the contexts in which he could successfully function as a soloist.

Hamilton and Procope each displayed a change of musical personality when playing saxophone instead of clarinet. Hamilton’s tenor saxophone solos were coarse, guttural, and blues-oriented, contrasting sharply with his refined, controlled, and

precise clarinet solos. Procope’s suave and romantic alto saxophone playing

contrasted with his earthy and ebullient clarinet style.

Although the differences between the clarinet and saxophone styles of each

player are perhaps surprising, probable explanations can be offered. In Hamilton’s

case the differences between his clarinet and saxophone playing are explained by (a)

his formal training on clarinet, and lack of formal training on saxophone, (b) his habit

of copying saxophone solos from blues records as a youth, (c) the fact that he had

rarely played tenor saxophone before joining Ellington, and therefore may have

initially played it rather gruffly, and (d) the strong influence that fellow Ellington

saxophonists Ben Webster, Harry Carney, and Johnny Hodges must have had on him,

especially given that his tenor saxophone playing was presumably undeveloped when

he joined Ellington. Webster and Carney were both assertive players with full tones,

Hodges a consummate blues performer.

Procope played saxophone with a different style than he played clarinet

because his early experiences on the two instruments differed. On clarinet he

emulated New Orleans clarinetists such Omer Simeon and Barney Bigard, and indeed

learned to play the clarinet while New Orleans style was predominant among jazz 112 clarinetists. Because he learned to play the saxophone while the instrument was coming of age in the early swing era, emulated Benny Carter, and played mostly saxophone in several swing bands prior to joining Ellington, Procope played the saxophone with a swing style, using a delicate, sweet tone, and a swing rhythmic style. Also, Procope himself hinted at an explanation for the differences between his saxophone and clarinet playing with Ellington. He said "In Duke’s band, I could play more in the styles by which I had genuinely been influenced" (Dance, 1969, p. 162).

He probably meant that Ellington allowed him to utilize the dissimilar playing styles he had developed earlier.

Although the evidence indicates that Procope’s musical style was established before his Ellington years, and that Hamilton’s predilection for correct technique, his symphonic tone, and his Goodmanesque improvisatory style were established before his Ellington years, the evidence also suggests that Ellington did play a significant role in shaping the musical personalities of Hamilton and Procope in subsequent

years.

For example, Hamilton’s interest in classical technique was probably not fully

manifested in his playing, nor applied to jazz when Ellington hired the 23-year-old.

Ellington provided numerous opportunities for Hamilton to develop his eventual

sophistication in combining jazz and classical idioms, pushing him beyond less

sophisticated goals like having a classical tone and a technique like Goodman’s.

Similarly, Hamilton’s employment in a society band immediately before joining

Ellington presumably did not require him to play anything like the numerous exotic 113 pieces he would later play with Ellington. Ellington, as bandleader and as composer, saw and developed this potential in Hamilton as well. Finally, Hamilton himself said that Ellington pushed his technique by composing difficult parts, so Ellington influenced Hamilton’s development in this way as well.

Ellington also shaped Procope’s style, but probably less so that Hamilton’s.

First, beginning in 1950, Ellington gave Procope a forum to display his New Orleans clarinet style. Because he played little clarinet in the John Kirby Sextet or in his early years with Ellington, Procope’s clarinet playing had been largely dormant since

1937. Beginning with the 1950 "Mood Indigo" solo, however, Ellington gave

Procope a steady stream of such subtone solos, and the recorded evidence shows that

Procope developed this style considerably in subsequent years. Also, the intricate

compositions and complex backgrounds that Ellington created surrounding Procope’s

nostalgic solos must have been stimulating to Procope; playing a New Orleans style

solo with Ellington must have been an entirely different experience than playing with

a lesser band of the 1920s. Therefore, Ellington’s role in shaping Procope’s style

was to provide the opportunity for him to resurrect and develop an aspect of his

playing that might otherwise have languished.

Billy Strayhom probably played a role in shaping the playing styles of

Hamilton and Procope, but to what extent cannot be accurately estimated. For

example, the extent to which Billy Strayhom contributed to Ellington’s compositions

has been and will continue to be subject to debate. For this reason one often cannot

identify in all cases which of Hamilton’s or Procope’s solos were created by 114

Strayhom, but it is clear that Strayhom was a prolific composer and therefore must have had some musical interaction with Hamilton and Procope. For example,

Strayhom probably collaborated with Hamilton in composing "Air Conditioned

Jungle," Hamilton’s first major feature with Ellington (Setlow, 1983). Also, based on examination of the manuscript, Strayhom appears to be the composer of Newport Jazz

Festival Suite, which featured both Hamilton and Procope soloing over carefully crafted accompaniments. However, because Ellington alone composed some works that featured clarinet, such as "Harlem," and because as bandleader Ellington

determined solo assignments and made frequent alterations in the music, including

Strayhom’s, Ellington presumably had more influence on the individual players than

Strayhom did.

Not only did Ellington influence the playing styles of his players, but their

playing styles also influenced his compositions. A part of Ellington’s greatness is that

he found imaginative and unique opportunities for each of his soloists, based on a

knowledge of each soloist’s strengths and weaknesses. Ellington’s use of Hamilton in

semi-classical pieces and exotic pieces, for example, was unprecedented in his

orchestra; these were not roles that Hamilton inherited from a previous player, but

roles that developed for Hamilton alone, pointing Ellington in new directions as a

composer. Ellington’s use of Procope in a New Orleans style, although not new in

his orchestra, still appears to have stimulated Ellington to compose modem pieces

making use of New Orleans style, such as "Second Line," "Swamp Goo," and "4:30

Blues." 115

In other words, a remarkable "cross-pollination" existed between Ellington as composer and bis band members. He learned from and drew inspiration from the unique musical personalities of bis players, composing music that in turn stimulated and shaped the styles of bis players. For example, Hamilton said that Ellington listened to band members while they practiced alone, getting ideas for subsequent compositions (Setlow, 1983); Hamilton also said that Ellington wanted the musicians to put their own personality back into the music, but that Ellington would rarely specify exactly bow a passage was to be played (Greenlee, 1991).

Both the remarkable and unequaled longevity of Ellington’s orchestra, and the long tenures of many of bis musicians were important factors in the relationship between Ellington and bis musicians. These conditions contributed to the success and musical development of Hamilton and Procope, and allowed Ellington the invaluable opportunity to become intimately acquainted with the musical styles of bis players.

Another part of Ellington’s greatness is the fact that be usually chose a soloist who would succeed in the given setting. This achievement is even more remarkable

when one considers the vast amount of recorded material left by Ellington’s band, and

the substantial portion of it that was recorded informally, or at live concerts, witliout

an initial intent of commercial release. Therefore, Hamilton’s and Procope’s

occasional solos that were not of high quality must be viewed with three

considerations in mind; (a) Ellington occasionally used a soloist in a setting that was

not his strength, (b) virtually the entire history of Ellington’s band is open to scrutiny

through recordings; Ellington did not record rarely or only under certain conditions, 116 rather he recorded frequently and in a vast array of situations, and (c) the Ellington orchestra should be viewed as a laboratory; the composers and players engaged in constant experimentation.

The real result of studying the playing of Jimmy Hamilton and Russell

Procope is a partial understanding of Duke Ellington’s relationship with and influence on the musicians in his band. Although both Hamilton and Procope were

accomplished players, their playing styles and their successes were highly dependent

on Ellington, for not only did Ellington provide a stimulating forum for their playing,

but he developed their personal styles through composing, arranging and bandleading.

Ellington’s use of Hamilton and Procope shows his imaginative use of soloists and his

creative use of contrasting timbres; he exploited the stylistic contrast between

Hamilton and Procope by contrasting them with consecutive solos and, remarkably,

by having them play solos concurrently.

The clarinet held a special place in Ellington’s music. It is important to note

that Ellington featured the clarinet in his music throughout his career, even when the

instrument fell somewhat out of favor in jazz in the 1950s, and even when the

saxophone had risen as the primary wind instrument in jazz. The many ways in

which Ellington used the instrument showed the breadth of his musical thinking. To

Ellington, the clarinet could represent jazz tradition, as evidenced by his late

compositions for Procope. Additionally, Ellington’s writing for Hamilton shows his

broad stylistic range, from swing, to semi-classical, to the exotic. Ellington, as a 117 great orchestrator, saw the value of the clarinet and the specific potential of his clarinetists, and ignored the trend of most jazz away from the instrument.

Significantly, Ellington allowed the musical role of each player to develop over time; he did not attempt to make a new member fit into the role of his predecessor, but gradually learned about the player and shaped the player at the same time. Ellington developed and expanded the musical skills and propensities of Jimmy

Hamilton and Russell Procope beyond what either player could have achieved alone. APPENDIX A

Transcriptions

1. "Ad Lib on Nippon" ...... 119

2. "Air Conditioned Jungle" ...... 124

3. "Bensonality" ...... 130

4. "Black and Tan Fantasy" ...... 131

5. "Blues To Be T h e re " ...... 132

6. "Cherokee" ...... 134

7. "Creole Love Call" and "The Mooche" (Medley) ...... 135

8. "Festival Junction" ...... 139

9. "Harlem" ...... 143

10. "Jam With S a m " ...... 148

11. "Jump for J o y " ...... 149

12. "Mood In d ig o " ...... 151

13. "Newport Up" ...... 154

14. "Rock City R o ck ...... 157

15. "Second Line" ...... 159

16. "Stomping at the S a v o y " ...... 164

17. "Swamp Goo" ...... 166

118 119

TRANSCRIPTION 1 : Jimmy Hamilton, Clarinet solo on "Ad Lib on Nippon." (Duke Ellington, Private Collection , Vol. 10, 1965, Saja 791 2342). Transcribed by Thomas Reed.

C adenza - Free l y ^ — -

- j - 7 b — J ------i------§ ------:------.-jrm.. i 4 =

i t . ; -m

^ Tempo J=138 a _a_ t T] f! r f:

m 5 L 120 m ~i <ér

-5—1 ir m . ^4,fL#:=Ê te e- m m m #

Q Solo ad lib 4 7 l ' g r « ?

) F f ir 1 M k h Z :::

$ I L h M ^

;s[ ^ (O 00 tm tp R C.^î'sy'J «JSNsb^

I «! » 44= f i l t «0 i J

*% i

â t«r 14 f i %

r4i •><«' '< 1$ " i T* * ^ r - i } 1 ') W/ i i , i w > 122 a M-

136 - 7 ru r j -

141 t r t i t ir, T f

D.S. WITH REPEATS % 145 /o

m w

Cadenza - Quickly $ c \ 149 I— 3 - [cjriL r c;trL , #

r \ ’

152 < 9 —#---F ■ a f W r V ------^------—:------^ -» ^ P'i 123

4 124 TRANSCRIPTION 2: Jimmy Hamilton, Clarinet solo on "Air Conditioned Jungle." (Duke Ellington and His Orchestra, 1945. Vol. 16, Circle CLP-10). Transcribed by Thomas Reed.

J=116

# I t 1 f f r - | ■ ■ * ■ ■ j r ± J ------1 ----- aSl------« 1 ff 0= f

$ r r 3X .

m i w 125

a ÿ=F f

#— # p - to PI0—«'» f—È—t—Fp=#i Gy - -—^ --- Ç--f-- ^--i_L_Lm."mj

Ê #A o aH # ^ i c L U

TSZ f f l » #

80 u i~'^~i r— I ■5 — I I— 3- * id 126

___ 5 — \ # P p--- \------V— f r r- / - z) j * 5 ^ # \ tpi#- m P ^ ,m 1- , ,Æ| -pV —J^ -----—---i—2-- -»-_-- -#:--^ Ü UaJ

98 if r i - ■> ,ir r ■» n \ j = r ^ w m 103. |, P f*tf r*^ if =9 f ~ i j . ------

T ' r îTr^ [*j # ^— t - ■ ■ I—5 —1

i n ,

? = A ^ T-W- -l# ±

1 1 7 ^ ^

XT "Cr

1 2 4 , a ^=j : I" -1 ^ j. ■ % U 4- Æ P 127 129,1 m frf}

m

#— A »—F—A * p- 0 c ^ T l F f Î M -+7= f ------Jll]a —J-—--- y - — ^ L 0------

f ' f > . .: f 1 ^ W —j — ’ CODA ■ t Jl/Jj Jî1

i*' 'f j- ^ 128

(Inaudible)

(Inaudible

CADENZA

------z - 1 i' ' F f 1 ! i - | H = ^ /« 1 —# W 1—• ^ - j

-H- rfPP: rv.v.-g:> P* f^f"m • J J|>— r i • i “-- 1----- ^ 1- O- 1 JirJ

i J J J -

1 7 3 ,

a

r f ü % = f a __J ------#L —. -4^ S ■«■ 129

TEMPO

?

« # 130 TRANSCRIPTION 3: Jimmy Hamilton, tenor saxophone solo on "Bensonality." (Duke Ellington, vol. 3, 1951, Columbia CE 33961). Transcribed by Thomas Reed . J=I12 EW3 3 Et6 I

«7 --- c. * i |#--- 1# ■ F * p q & F ------Î ------r M ------^ ------

A°7 growl Ü Et® C7 Fiti' 5 ------1 - 8 j?*

i El-' ^ 131

TRANSCRIPTION 4: Russell Procope: Alto Sax Solo on "Black and Tan Fantasy." (Duke Ellington, The Great Paris Concert. 1963, Atlantic Jazz 304-2). Transcribed by Thomas Reed. eI>7 J= 76 3-

G|dim. C6 Cm G É

Em □7 G E9 A9 D9 g C9 p9 bI»9 T f fi. f f i f 111II ig

El?7 G®

!#=& a # I G|dim. C® Cm G JL # '"-1— # 1 » , r - f r â ^ i â 1 m Em7 A7 Q7 G ' l » r r E rfer^f”wrrr.,f,rir.. I , 132

TRANSCRIPTION 5: Excerpt from "Blues To Be There." (Duke Ellington, Ellington at Newport. 1956, Columbia CK40587). Transcribed by Thomas Reed. .] J = 74 gy ciar. (Procope) | C |

D A DA dI>® D Bm D A TRB. . f e l #r * I •t»

XJ d1»® G ,D G D Gt D A DA f y É A m

gdz

d1>6 E Bm D A a1>3 D A DA ub J r g t A %

El» At»?

L ^J d I»6

m 133 E l,™ a I,^

y y 0 F ^ " ^ " 9

Fm^

21 , - e - ±:z JlZ.

b I»7 fast Rubato

fast chrom.

i, 4> liiy 4^ 4J 134

TRANSCRIPTION 6: Jimmy Hamilton, tenor saxophone solo on "Cherokee." (Duke Ellington, Recollections of the Big Band Era.1963, Atlantic SO 1665). Transcribed by Thomas Reed. ‘6 1 qJ= 1 8 ^ ^

p6

r r I & m ( g l t o s l ) 135 TRANSCRIPTION 7: Russell Procope: Clarinet solo on "Creole Love Call" and "The Mooche." (Duke Ellington, The Great Paris Concert, 1963, Atlantic Jazz, 304-2). Transcribed by Thomas Reed. J = 80

Procope:

5 . 136 r r M t — _:4f i r-^-| tT'vv -> ■ ■ «y ■ ------^ / l i § — Hamilton:

S\fm r - ’n i h - - J. W? r - ^ - l

it ^ J Ë ' t # m •5--J

i t= s i lano

Hamilton's part ends m

S M h?

4t_

=5 ■ ë— « ■ N ) J ‘-5 -J ‘-5 - ' 3- -3-

L-5' # t (trill and fade until end) 138

xx=: 3CC

g •0—# '-s- r-3- h ) h 0—:------• Î Jl? J ^ — # L-3—' 1—3

~rr x e :

/T\ ->------>------»------»------»------i -----2^ ----- = { — - f z z ------0 k = t l

/T\ // 139

TRANSCRIPTION 8: Jimmy Hamilton, Clarinet Solo on "Festival Junction." (Duke Ellington, Ellington at Newport , 1956, Columbia CK40587). Transcribed by Thoms Reed. , CADENZA 1 A _ ? I

_s_ £ r V c r f - - !

5

. ______I—^—I _ r~-^~I 140

PIANO

10 j-—

i 4 ^ 4

"g - ...... '

^ ------

n _____—----- r i ______— ------T Tl r-~ j j m À ■ -J^i ^ 4 t t t ^ ' ® ' '—-5 -—

"g—g— —-=— — ^

— 0------

—, jti _ _ y i « 0

13 ^ J = 85 - L I - - - = K : :JsüÉi 3- A Tempo r \

%" y 9

5?= 9 - , i 8 y—e-

Clarinet solo: Hamilton 19

- ( ) I) 'I rCur 11 i

1?#, a

,v i ■5--J 142

C?

U M r

b 1?7 O.. rS if .cifeN

UJ

L ' , . I f i i : . 143

TRANSCRIPTION 9: Excerpt from "Harlem." (Duke Ellington, The Private Collection. 1966, Saja 7912342). Transcribed by Thomas Reed.

Clarinet (Hamilton)

m m m

(All in concert Pitch)

2 O ' ^ Tempo J = 75 n j 1 , % ] | ^ Tnd------1~ | - | b •U L_■j—j Ü I Cl2rinet (1^rocope Î)

P — = =

— , -m, —i

Bass (Fizz.) z n p z k r k r T --f» * ^ d ~ ■s w -0- -i 144

^ ______^ _____ T ^ ------if------1~®— " .f . -1 - ■ > r ‘ t f ' _h M ------1------# #

Tenor Sax -iy.------p O L — ^ ... / .. ■ j------X* V* Æ» r r J j 4 -——-—^ -----:------ys—

13 ✓ A Hamilton

o ^ Trumpet É

I. Sax

T rt.. 1 S I Bass^pj p jj ÎEJJ

19 2 Clarinets m f j y Cresc. poco a poco T. Sax JCfZ f

a g

B 1. à j i -

ff>> f ff f “ f f ' ' j Trombone 3\ ^ ^ E D ÿ - > F ------H------\ J l'^'h "j " f ^ ; ^

Bass Clar. ------—

------r ,------. . . . ^ « ■ »« y . r. = p z i = y = f c f? -T 1

^ ------/ - X. X. X.•X ■ X. 3 ---i —--- î ÿ— —f f—--- k ------V 'I W # ......

^ -i— -f— f p-a - j« rihlM 4 = 0 — #• ■‘lJl L-k wM=Jl[— f:— 1

m -0 w * w

Clar. (Hamilton) 3 4 ______R C l.

... J . ^ J J □c e : 301 p Clar. (Procope) g a a

f r r I- r T

9 : J • ------^------J------ÿ------?----- 1 ë ------ÿ------ÿ------r------f----- i ~ é 146 37 É

W £

; W - é

r-? n H ^ im —— '■u i ÿ _ j .... ._\_* .. - --ztrz-M-àz. 4 % = a t ■j^ J 1 ^ ,^-' ■ V* * 9 w

'^ 0 A : f - HI--, ' t - J l tLTij - : _ - j : — z ^ — L*»--- W:. l_- 5 —'

------>------f------^ r----S---->- .1 1 > ^ _ / za “ 1 — % — ; — -1 — P — r - ^ f ---- s " • ' ' 9 « - 0

------, ==J—5 r T 1 ~ ^ r ^ *1 u ...... - i , -5-J ‘— 5---

1; - , j) r ^ [ ^ ...... ■ ■ ^ f ' ?------S- -Xm------^ ^ ------*W- "U. J I L U 4 = • a ■" ■ ^ Trb. and Bass Clar. mf ------

— »— — ~ 4 ------

------—------47 147 o ■— #------4------é= ^

9 7" t; ;# f" ■ - - '■ - ^ _ y ------«—f' ...... J^-- u m ■-- a - ^ * ------= F ~ = r------* ■■

^ — rV 1f , -f. ■ , »rfV^ y ------IZkf--.-[_J r k =

49 —T— f ------Ip ------' F # F— . F F i . L-T f ■ ^ H ‘- 5 - ’ r

------P = . = ^ ~ ------^ : r ^ . k = rJ J J “a - r -— ^ % = -“^ J..L » /^l>p —*—] : ■• > "-qi J A r » "■ ~ ----- —*— —^J------5 ---'

------mm------1 P = 148 TRANSCRIPTION 10: Russell Procope, Alto saxophone solo on "Jam With Sam." (Duke Ellington, Seattle Concert. 1952. RCA U M 100). Transcribed by Thomas Reed. J = 244. 1 4 2 2 y s m m

sax. sax. onl f y s « r » n c T r r r tpt. (here in Eb)

f e l l £ sms

¥ f f |tf r/T rtfrr r rr r rr r ii 149 TRANSCRIPTION 11 : Russell Procope: alto saxophone solo on "Jump for Joy." (Duke Ellington, New Mood Indigo. 1964, Signature AK40359). Transcribed by Thomas Reed.

Break Q6 Em Am j J 5 — *- .. rr > >— 4 t [kj-f K T' 4^^

Dm %-.. “loE I r j j J J - J

Em Am

c® Dm C®

\ff m i

P7 c®

5 m

Em A^ f rf-f ^

Dm C® Em Am itèÉe i a s 150 Dm

C® Am F CJ C® rff Tf. i#rrr f :£ m 151

TRANSCRIPTION 12: Excerpt from "Mood Indigo." (Duke Ellington, All Star Road Band. Vol.2. Dr. Jazz WAZ 40012). Transcribed by Thomas Reed. J= 95.

2 (j 6 ------L ■ j J J 1 o O o % ia r. f t f r \ (Procope) ' (mi 1-1 6 a ll ir1 concert pr tch) -e------o ------V 1,1^ (t ------^------^ ...... Bass Clar. I I I I I k J |-.7--= " f t ï f î T î F f r r T W r ,----Ur*------— 4^— ------

1/ J J ' J 4 hi .1 1 fF^----ke----- o --CS~ ■■■ — O f ' T " r.... ' Ï ^ ' “O ------«------^------? <> 4"------

Clarinet solo (Transposed pitch, Procope)

------# ------/ ------»----- « r - . i------■< " n — È — «y. ■ "J.::- ■ 1 ■ 11J 11 - m — ^ ------— i ------^ ----- a 4 k = r L-JJ- é 0 I - J - i M. i h Q: CG 2 0 1 1— 3 — 1 1------3 ------1 ...... ■> ------^ ------W: - # 1 ______> : 3 2 2 A t » ' , 1— J — 1 r - 3 — 1 1— 3 — 1 Q 7 ------»— ------2 * 1 ------/

- W - c l —W # > F ______- 152

F 28 1 c 1— 3 — 1 1— 3 — 1 - h H - t ■ -fcç ■ ■■ ^-- -4 4 = ^ ■ -0 ------» i" ■ - 3

30 d 9 Dm^ Q7 c6 G' -4 1 1 "■■ 1 1 ■ -----\ -- L

33 9^---5---- , r--- 6---- 1 , r---6---- — < — 1 I I I J --- 1 ■' j f --«V *4 ^ 4 = p : J __ J 4 4

S 153 Fm b1>7

1 d d 154

TRANSCRIPTION 13: Jimmy Hamilton, Clarinet solo on "Newport Up." (Duke Ellington, Ellington at Newport, 1956, Columbia CK 40587). Transcribed by Thomas Reed. J = 1 4 0 Break

Cm^ F su s b I>® D® 8 , f v > > i ''if &

Em7 D® Bm 7 Em7 _____

r * r r % r r |h #

o7 D® ; 7 c 7 p 7 J a k ® B f-rf r r f

Cm? P7 Bk 6 Cm? P su s i

b I>5 j t :z Æ 155

Cm’ q 7 B iyp o l> /p C /p B /p

ê a

el>® F el>6 = Î Cite'ê ê î

CiD^ ^ ____F’ ______f : k ^ f : f : f f- 1,. . _ T 37 LLTf rXTir

5 =R--- ^—_— UJ F------=J—2_L_ F # . f

Dfo7 Em’ A’ D® Bm’ Em’ A’ '' ■a[ri[rrfl'r!flyr'8iWrïÿJ-,j>iJh,>jt e i S É

D® G’ C’ F’ ^—^1»® - B °7

CL. \f ô t

y

Bl>®

i a 156

Cm^ C7 e n*. :E

5 5

p7 ^ C /^ ___ B /p b I» f : f : f : ->------—- ^ I - Il 157

TRANSCRIPTION 14: Jimmy Hamilton, Tenor Sax solo on "Rock City Rock." (Duke Ellington, The World of Duke Ellington. 1957, Columbia CG, 33961). Transcribed by Thomas Reed.

1 J = 1 6 0 &

i

C: 07 19-'

Ê M r , fi^Hrrr.f T > fî\ § — i2L' C7 A7 1§ p ^f f r ir f ,=—p—r-- 7 J),jp r r ^ 1' Dm7 Q7 C7

& -tr 5-J 158

C7#9

q7#5 f fri.rfrf^4 P L-

C7 c« A % > J — f ^ T T r ^ # 159

TRANSCRIPTION 15: Russell Procope, Clarinet Solo on Excerpt from "Second Line." (Duke Ellington, New Orleans Suite. 1970, Atlantic S-1580). Transcribed by Thomas Reed.

1 J= 1 7 0 ------—55 -—. ^ ------f a Ï* - N ■ z

■0—Z-0- * J cJ" r

a

(b rass) T

Brass (unis., concert pitch)

23Ë

Clar. solo (Procope) Ti—a

t - o J

p , f ------v t / - f 1r ff: - 11 - t h ' Y T ^ M

(sGpug)

4 - ^ ------^-1------^ I» E l ‘ 13

,r f 1, - 1 / 4 ------t»-TL i------< ------**-- -é f'éé—0M ^ én ---- f C

'J 'i J ü))

[

- f ‘ 1 r - i Wj J ™ - f—< --- ♦- i—;• 1 a ^ 161

;

&

e % r a O g i W i #

# ##

Brass, Reeds (Lead voice: only)

^ ______^^8va basso k g K 'Ê k Z z

inaudible JL T f —,------f ------t f r - ^ - | i i ►t t —?— r 4 - ^ ------

J T n ...... - -"^ 1 ^ j~, /" — r - r ^ — — - ! ------Î ------^ * J ------■ ~ a ^ ' - ^ ------4 ------™ 5 ï t

a t r r ^ - T *

t — r-T ~*~L--- Η J L f — f ------n — Î — Æ -----1 4 ■ * - . _ ___ a— 4J

h r ^ _ i J ^ A — f------= — ^ - j ----- ^ U» osseq BAS

f---7------' / - 4 — 1— —----\—=-L^— ' I f^ f ^-3 rf------& _, ... - . . - ^ i -A-----“-----^ W ' i Si ' — lr»l s9 163

p- p ^ r ^ : ,p ,p r .[r [

» l,ti''.if r 1 ------* %------:------

f -- f~ fr ^ --- ■ff-&--- 1i— li— ?-Ti—i-,^-!------T g r r » t T i K_ . |_

r \

Ȃ------L& \ i p r. -P^r'J

____ 'tr -^w- i r ~ t e ■> > *y ■ ■■ - J C ^ -î-----i ----- 2------

»

, M r P - J '...... 1------^ %: ': "■-■'■■ ■■■ ■■ •—

Inaodibte- m P

; P M -1»^ 164

TRANSCRIPTION 16: Jimmy Hamilton, Clarinet solo on "Stompin' at the Savoy." (Duke Ellington, All Star Road Band Vol. 2. 1964, Doctor Jazz W2X40012). Transcribed by Thomas Reed.

eI’ eI> —Em. B J== 120IZU ^ ---- ' #

Gm Fm______e 1> Fm Gtn E‘ 4. è j t 'X £:

a

b I»7 e I> b 1»7

Fm e I> Fm Gm gc LÜJ u-u mcfigm Fm bI^ e\>

\f0^r & # Al.7 ±:' w. £ t T N

00 m r m

t m m

trm . ■n 3

Q 3 *4 m

m v m "A

T1 3 g; 166 TRANSCRIPTION 17: Excerpt from "Swamp Goo." (Duke Ellington, Yale Concert. 1968, Fantasy 9433). Transcribed by Thomas Reed.

J= 106 25 3 clarinets i 32 Dililü 11. . xf ~w

Piano solo i 2 _

c 1 Clarinet Solo (Procope) ° ' r -3 —i r-3 -

E5 w 65 a E ^ r

69 r ^ - ] r—•?—1 ' r V j m J. 167

0 Bt'

a i l . - n ------: r — " - g — •V. ^ ■ -| Ti-|-

■

# = = 5 ^ . V * y : y - ~ m -« : 1

E dim. '

É

^3—1 p r — 1 P7 » “ — 1 — — ------»------i— > 1 — — 1 ------*— 4 - H Tf ■* 83 BbS .

86 Bt,6 #. (g r ^ r r f r r

8 8 e t ’’ ^ e I>6 11, I -f e I i ~i — P=F=#: FM ^ll=^ fa rrfIII J-_ SS- tt=rf# = t t C/ 80 L

t*. ~ t |-r^ r ^ r j _jtz yTfiffrfl # "SE a # ZOL

t î î s l î l : - T i VZN3QV3 ^ 9 0 1

g f - —---1 T , i f f ] ' f r V — f J J~ i A L 1 » t --- ZOL

^ 1

t f r ... - f f c = + f : ::— j | _ y t DBjp 1— p

/j p' ...... ^1 w4 i...:% rrr-Ÿ ^-i-i-4 -j 1» r I — ï------v-ï ------—I—'— -----j—1------1------. ^ jJJ £j ...Ji

S#]] j *l‘t: j * T# lO ~ “ zO Z6

1--=>- -i r - r r - r r —^ 1 J ^ n :--- 4-F ■ -« z r ' 'iQ Z- — 9 ------•UJP3 0 6

89T 169

109

(inaudible) APPENDIX B

Copyright Notices

"4:30 Blues" by Duke Ellington Copyright (c) 1970 by Tempo Music/Music Sales Corporation All rights administered by Music Sales Corporation (ASCAP) Used by Permission

"Ad Lib on Nippon" music by Duke Ellington Copyright (c) 1965 (renewed 1993) and assigned to Famous Music Corporation (ASCAP) All rights administered by Famous Music Corporation

"A Tone Parallel to Harlem (a/k/a Harlem)" by Duke Ellington Copyright (c) 1952 (renewed) by G. Schirmer, Inc. (ASCAP) Used by Permission

"Air Conditioned Jungle" music by Duke Ellington and Jimmy Hamilton Copyright (c) 1945 (renewed 1972) and assigned to Famous Music Corporation & Tempo Music/Music Sales Corporation All rights administered by Famous Music Corporation & Tempo Music/Music Sales Corporation Used by Permission

"Bensonality" music by Duke Ellington Copyright (c) 1952 (renewed 1980) and assigned to Famous Music Corporation All rights administered by Famous Music Corporation Used by Permission

170 171

"Black and Tan Fantasy" music by Duke Ellington and Bub Miley Copyright (c) 1931 (renewed 1954) and assigned to Famous Music Corporation and EMI Mills Music Inc. Used by Permission

"Blues To Be There" from Newport Jazz Festival Suite music by Duke Ellington and Billy Strayhom Copyright (c) 1956 (renewed 1984) and assigned to Famous Music Corporation & Tempo Music/Music Sales Corporation All Rights administered by Famous Music Corporation & Tempo Music/Music Sales Corporation Used by Permission

"Cherokee" by Ray Noble Words and Music by Ray Noble Copyright (c) 1938 The Peter Maurice Music Co., Ltd., London, England Copyright Renewed and Assigned to Shapiro, Bernstein & Co., Inc., New York for U.S.A. and Canada International Copyright Secured All Rights Reserved Used by Permission

"Creole Love Call" music by Duke Ellington Copyright (c) 1928 (renewed 1955) and assigned to Famous Music Corporation and EMI Mills Music Inc. Used by Permission

"Festival Junction" from Newport Jazz Festival Suite music by Duke Ellington and Billy Strayhom Copyright (c) 1956 (renewed 1984) and assigned to Famous Music Corporation & Tempo Music/Music Sales Corporation All Rights administered by Famous Music Corporation & Tempo Music/Music Sales Corporation Used by Permission

"Harlem"; see "A Tone Parallel to Harlem"

"Jam With Sam" music by Duke Ellington Copyright (c) 1952 (renewed 1980) and assigned to Famous Music Corporation All rights administered by Famous Music Corporation Used by Permission 172

"Jump for Joy" words and music by Duke Ellington Copyright (c) 1941 (renewed 1968) and assigned to EMI Robbins Music Inc. Used by Permission

"The Mooche" music by Duke Ellington and Irving Mills Copyright (c) 1928 (renewed 1956) and assigned to Famous Music Corporation and EMI Mills Music Inc. Used by Permission

"Mood Indigo" words and music by Duke Ellington/Irving Mills/Albany Bigard Copyright (c) 1931 (Renewed 1958) and assigned to Famous Music Corporation, EMI Mills Music Inc. and Mood Music d o the Songwriters Guild of America Used by Permission

Music is Mv Mistress by Duke Ellington Copyright (c) 1973 by Duke Ellington, Inc. Published by DaCapo Press, Inc. All Rights Reserved Used by Permission

"Newport Up" from Newport Jazz Festival Suite music by Duke Ellington and Billy Strayhom Copyright (c) 1956 (renewed 1984) and assigned to Famous Music Corporation & Tempo Music/Music Sales Corporation All Rights administered by Famous Music Corporation & Tempo Music/Music Sales Corporation Used by Permission

"Rock City Rock" by Duke Ellington Copyright (c) by Famous Music Corporation (ASCAP) Used by Permission

"Second Line" Music by Duke Ellington Copyright (c) 1970 by Famous Music Corporation & Tempo Music/Music Sales Corporation All rights administered by Famous Music Corporation & Tempo Music/Music Sales Corporation Used by Permission 173

"Stomping at the Savoy" by Goodman, Sampson, Razaf, Webb Copyright (c) by Robbins Music Corp. (ASCAP) Used by Permission

"Swamp Goo" music by Duke Ellington Copyright (c) 1967 by Famous Music Corporation & Tempo Music/Music Sales Corporation All rights administered by Famous Music Corporation & Tempo Music/Music Sales Corporation Used by Permission APPENDIX C

D M A. Recital Programs

Preliminary Recital February 18, 1993

with Elizabeth Pastor, piano; Debora Stewart, piano

Sonatina Malcolm Arnold Allegro con brio Andantino Furioso

Grand Duo Concertante Carl Maria von Weber Allegro con fuoco Andante con moto Rondo (Allegro)

Capriccio Heinrich Sutermeister

Sonata in E-flat, op. 120, no. 2 Johannes Brahms Allegro amabile Appassionato, ma non troppo Allegro Andante con moto - Allegro

Concerto February 26, 1994

with the Ashland Symphony Orchestra, Albert-George Schram, Conducting

Introduction, Theme, and Variations Gioacchino Rossini

Adagio Heinrich Baermann

174 175

Chamber Music Program November 20, 1994

with Amy Likar, flute; Debora Stewart, piano, Stephanie Sikora, soprano; Elizabeth Craig, ’cello; and Elizabeth Pastor, piano

Tarantella, op. 6 Camille St. Saens

Six German Songs, op. 103 Louis Spohi Sei still mein Herz Zweigesang Sehnsucht Wiegenlied Das heimliche Lied Wach auf

Trio, op. 114 Johannes Brahms Allegro Adagio Andantino grazioso Allegro

Solo Recital April 12, 1995

with Debora Stewart, piano; Jeff Ludwig, guitar

Piece en Forme de Habanera Maurice Ravel, arr. Hamelin

Contradanza Paquito D ’Rivera

Concerto Aaron Copland

Elizette Clare Fischer

In A Sentimental Mood Duke Ellington

I Let A Song Go Out Of My Heart Duke Ellington

Sonata Francis Poulenc Allegro Tristamente Romanza Allegro con Fuoco UST OF REFERENCES

Books and Articles

Aasland, B. (1979). The "wax works" of Duke Ellington: 31 July 1942 - 11 November 1944. the recording ban period. DEMS: Jarfalla, Sweden.

Aldain, J. (1977). The Ellington sidemen. In P. Gammond (Ed.), Duke Ellineton: His life and music (pp. 192-214). New York: Da Capo Press.

Armitage, J. (1958). Russell Procope. Music Mirror. 5(7), 5.

Bigard, B. (1969). Barney Bigard blindfold test. Down Beat. 36(12), 30.

Bigard, B. (1985). With Louis and the Duke. London: Macmillan.

Boyer, R. (1944). The hot Bach. In M. Tucker (Ed.), The Duke'Ellineton reader (pp. 214-245). New York: Oxford University Press (1993).

Brask, O., & Morgenstem D. (1976). Jazz people. New York: Harry Abrams.

Cairr, I., Fairweather, D., & Priestley, B. (1988). Hamilton, Jimmy. In Jazz: the essential companion. New York: Prentice Hall Press.

Carr, I., Fairweather, D., & Priestley, B. (1988). Procope, Russell. In Jazz: the essential companion. New York: Prentice Hall Press.

Chilton, J. (1988). Procope, Russell. In B. Kemfeld (Ed.), The new grove dictionarv of jazz. London: Macmillan.

Chilton, J. (1988). Hamilton, Jimmy. In B. Kemfeld (Ed.), The new grove dictionarv of jazz. London: Macmillan.

Coda: Russell Procope. (1981). Jazz Forum. 70. 26.

Collier, J. L. (1987). Duke Ellington. New York: Oxford University Press.

Colombe, G. (1981). Russell Procope. Jazz Journal International. 34(4). 10.

176 177

Dance, S. (1974). The funeral address. In M. Tucker (Ed.), The Duke Ellington reader (pp. 381-384). New York; Oxford University Press (1993).

Dance, S. (1976). The world of Duke Ellington, part 3. (liner notes to recording). Columbia 33691.

Dance, S. (1969). The world of Duke Ellington. New York: Charles Scribner’s Sons.

Dance, S. (1963). Russell Procope, Part II. Jazz Journal. 16(1), 4-6.

DeMichael, D. (1962). Double play: Carney to Hodges to Ellington. In M. Tucker (Ed.), The Duke Ellington reader (pp. 471-476). New York: Oxford University Press (1993).

Dictionnaire de l’alto. (1966, December). Jazz Magazine. 48.

Ellington, M. (1978). Duke Ellington in person: An intimate memoir. Boston: Houghton Mifflin.

Ellington, D. (1973). Music is mv mistress. New York: Da Capo.

Gammond, P. (1987) Duke Ellington. London: Apollo.

Gammond, P. (1977). Duke Ellington: His life and music. New York: Da Capo Press.

George, D. (1981). Sweet man. New York: Putnam.

Giddins, G. (1984, August 28). Ellington, music, and poker. The Village Voice, p.

66 - 68 .

Gridley, M. (1988). Jazz styles (3rd ed.). Englewood Cliffs, NJ: Prentice-Hall.

Hammond, J. (1943). Is the Duke deserting jazz? In M. Tucker (Ed.), the Duke Ellington reader (pp. 171-173). New York: Oxford University Press (1993).

Harrison, M. (1964/1991). Some reflections on Ellington’s longer works. In M. Tucker (Ed.), The Duke Ellington reader (pp. 387-394). New York: Oxford University Press (1993).

Hasse, J. E. (1993). Bevond category - the life and genius of Duke Ellington. New York: Simon and Schuster.

Helland, D. (1990). Riffs: Jimmy Hamilton. Down Beat. 57(5), 14. 178

Hentoff, N. (1965). This cat needs no Pulitzer prize. In M. Tucker (Ed.), The Duke Ellington reader (pp. 362-368). New York: Oxford University Press (1993).

Huon, H. F. (1980). Index to Duke Ellington’s music is mv mistress. Pewaukee, WI: QED-Co.

Jeske, L. (1978). Sonny Greer, 83, recalls the time the aristocrats of Harlem took London by storm. Jazz Journal International. 31. 22-23.

Jewell, D. (1977). Duke fa portrait of Duke Ellington). New York: Norton.

Jinuny Hamilton quits Duke after 26 years. (1968). Down Beat. 35(17), 13.

Jimmy Hamilton: A name listing. (1967. October). Jazz Monthlv. 27.

Jones, M. (1981, February 14). Procope: the perfect pro. Melodv Maker. 27.

Lambert, G. E. (1959). Duke Ellington. New York: A. S. Barnes.

Lambert, E. (1963). Duke Ellington — 1963. In M. Tucker (Ed.), The Duke Ellington reader (pp. 342-346). New York: Oxford University Press (1993).

Lambert, E. (1969). Duke Ellington’s Nutcracker Suite. Oualitv Jazz. 22, 11.

McPhee, C. (1944). The torrid zone. In M. Tucker (Ed.), The Duke Ellington reader (p. 213). New York: Oxford University Press (1993).

Pinckney, W. R. Jr. (1992). Jazz in the U.S. Virgin Islands. American Music. 10(4). 441-467.

Procope, Russell. (1967). Wonderful, wonderful jazz. Jazz Journal. 20. 6-7.

Rattenbury, K. (1983). The essence of Jazz is in the blues. Part 9. Crescendo International. 21(6). 32-33.

Rattenbury, K. (1983). The essence of Jazz is in the blues. Part 10. Crescendo International. 21(7). 32-33.

Rattenbury, K. (1990). Duke Ellington, jazz composer. London: Yale University Press.

Record reviews. (1952, November 5). Down Beat. 11.

Russell Procope dies at 72. (1981). Jazz Spotlite News. 2(2), 12. 179

Salman, R. (1995). Remembering Jimmy Hamilton. The Clarinet. 22(4), 46-47.

Schuller, G. (1968). Early iazz. New York: Oxford University Press.

Schuller, G. (1989). The swing era. New York: Oxford University Press.

Stratemann, K. (1992). Duke Ellington dav bv dav and film bv film. Copenhagen: Jazz Media.

Thiele, B. (1943). The case of jazz music. In M. Tucker (Ed.), The Duke Ellington reader (pp. 175-178). New York: Oxford University Press (1993).

Timner, W. E. (1988). Ellingtonia: the recorded music of Duke Ellington and his sidemen. New Brunswick, NJ: Scarecrow Press.

Townsend, I. (1960). When Duke records. In M. Tucker (Ed.), The Duke Ellington reader (pp. 319-324). New York: Oxford University Press (1993).

Tucker, M. (Ed.). (1993). The Duke Ellington reader. New York: Oxford University Press.

Ulanov, B. (1946). Duke Ellington. New York: Creative Age Press.

Watrous, P. (1994, September 22). Jimmy Hamilton, 77, clarinetist integral to the Ellington sound. The New York Times, p. D32.

Welding, P. (1962). On the road with the Duke Ellington orchestra. In M. Tucker (Ed.), The Duke Ellington reader (pp. 326-332). New York: Oxford University Press (1993).

Wilson, J. S. (1981, January 23). Russell Procope, 72, clarinetist with Ellington 29 years, dead. The New York Times, p. A21. 180

INTERVIEWS AND ORAL HISTORIES

Albertson, C. (1979, March 9-13). Interview with Russell Procope (transcript). Brunswick, NJ: Oral History Project, Rutgers University, Institute of Jazz Studies.

Greenlee, M. (1991, March 26). Interview with Jimmy Hamilton (tape abstract and index). Duke Ellington Oral History Project, Interview NMAH-AC #368. Washington: Archives Center, Museum of American History, Smithsonian Institution.

Jacobowitz, R. (1977, December). Interview with Russell Procope (transcript). Oral History, American Music Project, # 503. New Haven: Yale University.

Procope, R. (1978). A jazzman and his art (interview). New York: Encyclopedia Americana/CBS News Resource Library Vital History Cassettes.

Setlow, K. (1983, August). Interview with Jimmy Hamilton (transcript). Oral History, American Music Project, #580 a,b,c. New Haven: Yale University.

SOUND RECORDINGS

Ellington, D. (1986). The 1953 Pasadena concert. Crescendo GNP 9045. (1953, March 20).

Ellington, D. (1991). The afro-eurasian eclipse. Fantasy OJCCD-645-2. (1971, February 17).

Ellington, D. (1983). All star road band. Doctor Jazz W2X39137. (1957, June).

Ellington, D. (1983). All star road band, vol. 2. Doctor Jazz W2X40012. (1964, May 31).

Ellington, D. (1991). Anatomv of a murder. Sony WK 75025.

Ellington, D. & Fitzgerald, E. Ella and Duke at the Cote D’Azur. Verve V/VC-4072- 2 .

Ellington, D. Duke Ellington’s 70th birthdav partv. SolS 19000. (1969).

Ellington, D. (1987). Duke Ellington and his orchestra. 1945. vol. 6. Circle CLP- 106. (1945, January 3). 181

Ellington, D. (1988). Duke Ellington 1945. Vol. 8. Circle CLP-108. (1945).

Ellington, D. (1977). The Duke Ellington Carnegie Hall concerts: December 1944. Prestige P-24073. (1944, December 19).

Ellington, D. (1966). Duke Ellington’s concert of sacred music. RCA LSP-3582.

Ellington, D. (1989). Ellington indigos. Columbia Jazz Masterpieces CJ 4444. (!957, September-October).

Ellington, D. Ellington uptown. Columbia ML 4639. (1952).

Ellington, D. Ellington at Newport. Columbia CK 40587. (1957, July 7).

Ellington, D. Far east suite - special mix. Bluebird 07863. (1966, December).

Ellington, D. The feeling of iazz. Black Lion BLCD 60123. (1962).

Ellington, D. (1989). The great Paris concert. Atlantic Jazz 304-2. (1963, February).

Ellington, D. "Honeysuckle rose." (album unknown). Capitol T521. (1955).

Ellington, D. (1991), Hot summer dance. Red Baron AK 48631. (1960, July 22).

Ellington, D. "Idiom ’59," (album unknown). Columbia CL 1400. (1959, September 8 ).

Ellington, D. "Indian summer," (album unknown). Bethlehem BCP-6005. (1956, February)'.

Ellington, D. (1991). The iazz collector’s edition. Laser Light Digital 15-753. (1946?).

Ellington, D. Jazz partv. Columbia CK 40712. (1959).

Ellington, D. "La plus belle africaine," (album unknown). Verve V/V6-8701. (1966).

Ellington, D. (1989). Mood indigo. Pro-Arte Digital CD0482. (1929-1936)

Ellington, D. (1986). New Mood Indigo. Signature AK 40359. (1962-1966).

Ellington, D. New Orleans suite. Altantic S-1580. (1970). 182

Ellington, D. (1989). The private collection. Volume 9: Studio sessions. New York. SAJA 7912332. (1968).

Ellington, D. (1989). The private collection. Volume 10: Studio sessions. New York and Chicago. SAJA 7912342. (1965, 1966, 1971).

Ellington, D. (1963). Recollections of the big band era. Atlantic SD 1665. (1962- 1963).

Ellington, D. Seattle concert. RCA Victor U M 1002. (1952, March 25).

Ellington, D. (1974). Second sacred concert. Prestige PCD 240452

Ellington, D. (1989). S.R.O. LRC CDC 7680. (1961).

Ellington, D. (1990). Three suites. Columbia CK 46825.

Ellington, D. (1989). Transblucencv. Jazz and Jazz JJ 612. (1947, July 9).

Ellington, D. Unreleased live recording, Ann Arbor, MI. (1956, July 2).

Ellington, D. (1976). The world of Duke Ellington, vol. 3. Columbia 33961. (1951- 1957).

Ellington, D. (1973). Yale concert. Fantasy 9433. (1968, January 26).

Ellington, D. & Basie, C. (1962). First time!. Columbia CS 8515.

Hamilton, J. (1985). Rediscovered at the Buckaneer. Who’s Who in Jazz WWLP 21029. (1985).

Williams, M. (ed.). (1987). The Smithsonian collection of classic iazz. CBS Special Products RD 033 A5 19477,

FILMS

Council for Positive Images, Inc. (1988). A Duke named Ellington [videocassette]. United States: Videfilm Producers International.

Jazz Images, Inc. (1992). Reed royalty [videocassette]. Long Beach, CA: Pioneer Artists.