A Saluted To The Fabulous Dorseys - Buddy Morrow

 

Amapola

A Salute To The Fabulous Dorseys

Featuring Buddy Morrow and His Orchestra

Mercury Records MG 20204

1957

From the back cover: In all of musicdom one predominant trait stands out above all the rest. That is individuality. A band or vocalist develops a style and form there forward, that style is their own. Others may come up to copy it, but they never succeed. The only other time that music done by that particular band can come into prominence is when done in the manner of a salute or a tribute. Mercury takes great pleasure in presenting this Long-Playing album, "A Salute To The Fabulous Dorseys", as done by Buddy Morrow – a man graduated from the ranks of the Dorsey bands, and probably the best authority outside of the Dorseys on what music it was they made famous, and why.

As a youngster, Buddy Morrow dreamed of the day when he would be playing trombone in a leading dance band, and eventually heading up his own unit. Both these dreams came true, including one that came to him at a later date. His other ambition was to play with another trombonist, Tommy Dorsey. Not only did Buddy become one of the Dorsey sidemen, but later he also joined the band of Jimmy Dorsey, and in both, he played an active part in the making of such famous hits as those included on this Long-Playing album. You'll hear such Tommy Dorsey made-famous hits as "Oh Look At Me Now", "There Are Such Thing," "Marcheta," "Once In A While," "This Love Of Mine," "You're A Sweetheart," "I'll Never Smile Again," and "Sunnyside Of The Street". Included you will hear these famous Jimmy Dorsey hits: "Amapola," "The Breeze And I," "Marie Elena," and "Green Eyes." Not only do these hits represent the hit tunes of the Dorsey brothers, but they also represent the top hit tunes of an era when dance bands reigned supreme.

Despite having such a rich musical background stemming from the days prior to World War II, Buddy Morrow still remains America's newest, youngest, and most popular trombonist. His brilliant rise to fame is an inspiration to all aspirants of musical recognition. Buddy started his career at the age of 12 when he received his first trombone as a birthday gift from his parents. His aptitude became apparent almost immediately, and one year later, at the age of 13, he debuted professionally. At 15 he was featured with the Yale Collegians at eh then fabulous salary of $35 per week. His big break came while he was attending classes at the renowned Juilliard School of Music finishing up a scholarship award. It was there that he was heard by Paul Whiteman who immediately asked Buddy to join his band. Following his stay with Whiteman, Buddy also did short stints with such other famous units as Eddie Duchin's orchestra, Artie Shaw, and Vincent Lopez, as well as being highly sought after to play trombone on recording dates and radio programs.

After his discharge from the Navy following World War II, Buddy decided to form his own band and used as his "modus operandi" the following bit of philosophy – "Never try to educate the public from the bandstand, instead play the type of music they want to hear." Evidently Morrow's sage analysis worked, for not only was he chosen the nation's most promising band in a disk jockey poll, but his newly released records were receiving national acclaim. In fact, even before the band was formed, Morrow had a signed contract to play the famous Palladium Ballroom in Hollywood. Such hits as his own as "Night Train," and "Rose, Rose I Love You" soon made him the most sought after dance band in the land. Today, the Buddy Morrow band is no longer a coming thing, or even one of the best bands of the day, for disk jockeys across the country are saying that this will be one of the great bands of all time.

Buddy Morrow has always played clean, listenable, and danceable music, and has always remembered the men he studied under. This album you are about to hear, marks a milestone in not only Buddy Morrow's musical career, but in music itself. Here is a tribute, paid from the depth of his heart, from Buddy Morrow, to two former bosses. Two bosses to whom Buddy feels he owes much of his present day success for the way in which they impressed him with the values and pleasures of music both inwardly and how they affect a nation. Listen now and enjoy the invaluable treasures contained in "A Salute To The Fabulous Dorseys".

Green Eyes

There Are Such Things

Marcheta

This Love Of Mine

Maria Elena

Amapola

On The Sunnyside Of The Street

I'll Never Smile Again

Oh Look At Me Now

Once In A While

You're A Sweetheart

The Breeze And I

Songs 'n Stories About Animals

 

Little Red Riding Hood

The Rocking Horse Players and Orchestra

Children's Favorites with The Peter Pan Players/Orchestra/Chours

Rocking Horse Series 5034

Diplomat Records

Funny Little Bunnies
Three Little Kittens
Pussy Cat
I Love A Little Pussy

Little Red Riding Hood

The Animal Square Dance

Pony Boy

The Farmer In The Dell

Mr. Gallagher's Donkey

Sweetie Bear

Little Red Hen

Old Mother Hubbard

Oh Where Has My Little Dog Gone

Hark, Hark The Dogs Bark

Little Brave Sambo

Old Macdonald Had a Farm

Three Blind Mice

Mary Had a Little Lamb

My Heart Cries For You - Connie Francis

 

Lonely Again

My Heart Cries For You

Connie Francis

Produced by Bob Morgan

Arranged by Herb Bernstein & Joe Sherman

Director of Engineering: Val Valentin

Cover Design: Jack Anesh

Cover Photo: John Engsted

MGM Records ST 91303

1967

Lonely Again

Don't Touch Me

Four Walls

There'll Be No Teardrops Tonight

The Wayward Wind

How's The World Treating You

My Heart Cries For You

I'd Be A Legend In My Time

I Wish I Had A Wooden Heart

Room Full Of Roses

Anytime

Destination Moon - Leith Stevens - Heinz Sandauer

 

Designation Moon

Destination Moon

Leith Stevens

The Omega Orchestra - Heinz Sandauer, Conductor

Cover: Jupiter Missle Roars Skyward (World Wide)

Omega Stereophonic Disk OSL-3

1959

From the back cover: Although many composers maintain that they recognize no difference between absolute music and descriptive or program music, and that a program is merely an incentive to the creation of new musical form, the texture of some programmatic compositions has proved to be so extraordinary rich and full that almost universally it must create a pictorial narrative in the listener's imagination. For most of us, it seem, this is a simpler way to hear music because music takes on meaning for us in terms of everyday emotions and experiences. In fact, some composers, realizing this, have attempted to bring their art closer to listeners by depicting characteristic aspects of Twentieth Century civilization in programmatic  pieces.

Typical of that sort of composition are Honegger's "Pacific 231" which its celebrated musical description of a steam engine, or Copland's "Rodeo," describing a Western cowboy setting. In these works, as in others like them, the gulf between composer and listener is being bridged by a common ground – a musical description of something that is familiar to all of us.

However, when Leith Stevens was called upon back in 1950 to compose a score for George Pal's motion  picture, "Destination Moon," he had a peculiar creative problem on his hands. The picture dealt with man making a rocket to fly him to the moon, and this science-fiction fantasy itself was created to play upon unexperienced emotions by showing images never before seen. At that time, information on space, the moon's surface, rocket launchings and all the other scientific lingo that has become popular knowledge today, was considerably harder to come by. It took Stevens over three months to steep himself in enough scientific lore to prepare himself to write the first notes.

He consulted with many scientists, among them the now famous Dr. Wernher van Braun. In these conferences and by studying countless artists' sketches of the moon's surface, Stevens was able to discover what the space world was like. The result was a startling, particularly dramatic score which became immediately popular. The music evoked new feelings, new mental pictures... it investigated a musical world never before probed or propounded so sharply.

Today, when we are more familiar with space launchings and our newspapers and magazines are filled with Sputniks and Satellites, and a rocket trip to the moon doesn't seem so fantastic, this composition is more meaningful than ever.

As the music describes the film's action, it begins with "Earth," a launching sequence. There is a musical depiction of a count-down, and just as if "Destination Moon" had foreseen the future, something goes wrong with the rocket and it is unable to take off. There is a hurried de-bugging operation and another count-down which is followed by one of the most thrilling sounds in stereo... the sound of a rocket launching. Then up, up, up... into the eerie blackness of space.

"In Outer Space" is especially interesting because of Stevens' musical portrayal of weightlessness. He as created a sound picture of infinity, a sense of no bottom and no gravity... a feeling that if you'd let go of a cup of coffee it would hang there in space. The violins perform a shimmering figure to indicate the silence and the clear, far-away stars, the moon coming nearer. The woodwinds enter too, to tell of the curious mental aberrations that affects human beings in a world of no gravity.

"On The Surface Of The Moon" is even more exciting as the rocket makes a successful landing and our spacemen, with long woodwind passages interrupted by sudden chords, bound across the moon in great long 100-foot strides. In "Escape From The Moon" the spacemen have reduced the weight of the rocket to make their take-off, with everyone in right-angle take-off position, the rocket is fired and they are in space again.

"Finale" is joyous. The crew is aware they can make it back home and then watch the moon fade away as the Earth looms up at them.

As the music was recorded, somewhere an actual trip to the moon is being planned. It may only be a matter of months or a year or so before a rocket, like the one on our cover, courtesy of the Army at Cape Canaveral, Florida, launches itself into the world of space, headed for the moon... just as Leith Stevens has imagined it so beautifully for us in musical terms.

About the composer: Leith Stevens is one of the most versatile and accomplished composer-conductors in the entertainment world. He has composed scores for motion pictures, television and radio, successfully conducted symphony orchestras, composed a highly praised piano concerto, written pop tunes and is currently working on an original television musical.

Born in Mount Moriah, Missouri, in 1909, his music career started with private teachers. At 14 he made his debut as a pianist in Kansas City. Two years later he made his conducting debut and at the same time became coach for Madame Schumann-Heink's first Master Class at Horner Institute. He later continued his musical education at Juilliard where he was awarded a fellowship.

His professional career started in radio and was later signed by the motion picture industry to compose the score for the RKO production of "Syncopation." Since that time, Stevens has racked up over 40 screen credits among them such notable films as "Night Song," "War Of The World," "The Wild One," "Julie," "Garment Jungle," and "The James Dean Story." Stevens was one of the founders and the first president of the Composers and Lyricists Guild Of America. – Cy Schneider 

From Billboard - February 23, 1959: Moon music for space cadets. Current interest in rocketry could help sales. And the far-out musical effects could also catch on with hi-fi aficionados. The score itself is from the pic of the same name, highly original and manages to  convey feelings no human has  yet experienced – weightlessness, being on the moon, etc.

East

In Outer Space

On The Surface Of The Moon

Finale

The Platters

 

Have Mercy

The Platters

Mercury Records MG 20146

1956

From the back cover: Mercury Records is proud to present to music lovers across the nation one of the most talented groups to hit the spotlight in years – The Platters. Here is a group, in strict tradition of show business, which hit the coveted stardom mark overnight. They rose as if from out of nowhere and in the space of a twinkling they became the hottest group of records, a smash nightclub act, and movie personalities. And, while all this is true, it must be pointed out that stardom is really only achieved after greatness is achieved – and this never comes "overnight". It took a record titled "Only You" for the four boys and girl known as the Platters to be recognized as stars of the show business world – and then, only because they were actually great, great from the day they first sang together in a rehearsal.

They young people in and around Los Angeles have known about the Platters for quite some time. These people can recall the group when they were only a quartet trying to make good. It was much after the group had sung together for a long time, that they came to the attention of a songwriter named Buck Ram. Buck took the group under his wing, taught them new material, routines, and staging, and techniques of singing. After the group started to sound the way he wanted them to sound, he added a female voice and finally achieved what he knew would be a saleable group and blend of harmony.

Credit for discoing the group should go to a disk jockey in Los Angeles, Hunter Hancock. He heard the group sing at an amateur night performance. The group began to get known on the west coast and not long after, they received their Mercury recording contract, and are now known clear across the country.

The group consists of Zola Taylor, the only female in the group, Tony Williams as first tenor, David Lynch as second tenor, Paul Robe as baritone and Herbert Reed as Bass. This group has a distinct advantage over most other groups in that much of their material is very visual and highly entertaining from the standpoint of a floor show or stage presentation. Above all, they are great, which is really their biggest advantage.

My Prayer

Why Should I

Remember When

Bewitched Bothered And Bewildered

I Wanna

I'm Sorry

Have Mercy

Someone To Watch Over Me

At Your Beck And Call

On My Word Of Honor

Heaven On Earth

Glory Of Love

Caterina Valente's Greatest Hits

 

The Breeze And I

Caterina Valente's Greatest Hits

Werner Muller and His Orchestra

London LL 3441

1965

Malagueña

Poinciana

More

La Paloma

The Peanut Vendor

What A Difference A Day Made

The Breeze And I

La Golondrina

Amapola

Estrellita

Beasme Mucho

My Shawl

When Dalliance Was In Flower - Volume II - Ed McCurdy

 

A Young Man

When Dalliance Was In Flower 

And Maidens Lost Their Heads

Volume II

Sung by Ed McCurdy

Musical Settings copyright 1957 by Ed McCurdy

Engineer: Leonard Ripley

Production Supervisor: Jack Holzman

Elektra 140

1957

Robert Abramson - Harpsichord

LaNoue Davenport - Recorders

William Faier - Guitar and Banjo

Erik Darling - Solo Banjo (is featured in Tottingham's Frolic, The Jolly Miller, A Lady So Frolic And Gay and The Jolly Pedlar's Pretty Things

From Billboard - November 18, 1957: A further excursion into mores and morals of Elizabethan England via the lusty lyrics of the songs of that era. The arrangements by Ed McCurdy, who also handles vocal chores, have an authentic ring. Dealers who had any success with Vol. I will do repeat business with this item.

Uptails All 

Tottingham Frolic

A Young Man

A Tradesman

A Tenement To Let

The Playhouse Saint

Merchant And The Fidler's Wife

A Virgin Meditation

Would You Have A Young Virgin

The Jolly Miller

Of Chloe And Celia

A Lady So Frolic And Gay

My Thing Is My Own

The Jolly Pedlar's Pretty Thing

Phillis

To Bed To Me

Something Broadway Something Latin - June Christy

 

Shadow Of Your Smile

Something Broadway 

Something Latin

June Christy

With Ernie Freeman's Music

Produced by Bill Miller

Capitol Records T 2410

1965

From Billboard - December 4, 1965: It's been all too long between albums, but Miss Christy makes up for the lull with this exceptional program of the newer crop of Broadway show tunes. She brings her own sparkle and individual style to the material and the result is a refreshing, artful and commercial dimension to the known tunes.

Do I Hear A Waltz?

Words by Stephen Sondheim, Music by Richard Rodgers

Long Ago from "Half A Sixpence"

Words and Music by David Heneker

Come Back To Me from "On A Clear Day You Can See Forever"

Words by Alan Jan Lerner, Music by Burton Lane

Here's That Rainy Day from "Carnival In Flanders"

Words by Jimmy Van Heusen, Music by Johnny Burke

He Touched Me from "Drat! The Cat!"

Words by Ira Levin, Music by Milton Schafer

Love Theme From "The Sandpiper" (The Shadow Of Your Smile)

Words by Paul Francis Webster, Music by Johnny Mandel

Gimme Some from "Golden Boy"

Words by Lee Adams, Music by Charles Strouse

What Did I Have That I Don't Have? from "On A Clear Day You Can See Forever"

Words by Alan Jan Lerner, Music by Burton Lane

Run For Your Live! from "Skyscraper"

Words by Jimmy Van Heusen, Music by Sammy Cahn

Tell Me More

Words and Music by Dok Stanford and Morty Jacobs

Cast You Fate To The Wind

Words by Carel Weber, Music by Vince Guaraldi

Charles Brown Sings Christmas Songs

 

Please Come Home For Christmas

Charles Brown Sings Christmas Songs

King 901

Distributed by Gusto Records

1975

Please Come Home For Christmas

Christmas With No One To Love

Christmas In Heaven

Christmas Blues

It's Christmas All Year 'Round

Wrap Yourself In A Christmas Package

Merry Christmas Baby

It's Christmas Time

Christmas Comes But Once A Year

Christmas Questions

Let's Make Every Day A Christmas Day

Bringing In A Brand New Year

The Sound Of Jazz - Various

 

Fine And Mellow

The Sound Of Jazz

Columbia Records CL 1098

1958

The Sound Of Jazz was presented by "The Seven Lively Arts" over CBS Television Sunday, December 8, 1957.

From the back cover: The best thing that ever happened to television happened on CBS between five and six in that afternoon on Sunday, December 8. At least that was where and when it happened first: the program may have been run at a different hour and date in your part of the country, and – if there is any justice – it will be repeated, the more often the better. It was an installment in "The Seven Lively Arts" series called "The Sound Of Jazz," and as far as I'm concerned you can throw away all previous standards of comparison. This is where live television began to amount to something.

It was open and closed, and from time to time interrupted, by John Crosby as "host," but mostly it was musicians playing jazz – in a bare studio, dressed in whatever they lied (hats, sweat shirts, it didn't matter), smoking, talking to one another, or just walking around. Each group was introduced and then away it went, with team enough (in nearly all cases) to get the music going, while the camera roamed over the faced of participants and spectators. There were no phony or elaborate explanations. As the executive producer, Jack Houseman, remarked approvingly to the music critic Virgil Thomson, doing the dress rehearsal: "This is the first program about jazz that doesn't say it started in New Orleans and then went upon the river."

Technically "The Sound Of Jazz" gave the appearance of being very (as they say on the Avenue) "primitive." You knew that you were in a studio and that these people were being televised. If it sounded better to have a microphone right in the front of a man's face, there the microphone would be; and if one cameraman got in another's way he didn't scurry ashamedly out of it. But this impromptu effect, of course, took a deal of contriving. The musicians couldn't believe at first that thats were really okay, and Billy Holiday had to be persuaded to appear in slacks and pony-tail instead of the gown she had specially planned on. The air of casualness was in fact the end product of months of work.

This milestone was primarily made possible by Houseman, his assistant, Robert Goldman, and the producer for this show, Robert Herridge, who had the unbelievable courage and good sense to hire good taste and turn it loose. They found two jazz critics with some ideas, Whitney Balliett and Nat Hentoff, and after the usual round of conferences and memos, gave them complete artistic control. Balliet and Hentoff, from the start, had the kind of program in mind that they eventually produced – one that would concentrate in music. When I asked Balliett at what point they had decided in favor or visual realism and informality, he thought a moment and said, "I don't think it ever occurred to us to do it any other way."

They got the musicians they wanted, whether currently well known or not and whether or not "485" (the address on Madison of the Columbia front office) would have made the same choice. They were able to assemble combination of musicians whose booking arrangements usually keep them apart, and also let an old-timer like Pee Wee Russell play side by side with a modernist like Jimmy Giuffre. The name of one performer made "485" nervous, but Balliett and Hentoff put their feet down – and they won. Let i be written that as of 1957 there was still some decency left, and somebody willing to fight for it.

As "The Sound Of Jazz" came into the final weeks before air-time, it began to make other people uneasy, and for better reasons. Since there was so little of the normal panic on the surface, everybody panicked inside. The director, Jack Smight, found that he was twice as jumpy without actors around to worry about; and when "485" found out in the last few days that there really wasn't any script to speak of it began to emit angry noises: "What are you doing down there?" Balliett and Hentoff could only answer that everything was going to be fine, the musicians would turn up, and there would be some music. They hoped this was true.

They needn't have worried. If you were lucky enough to have seen "The Sound Of Jazz" I don't have to telly you how great it was and, even if you weren't, what I'd want to do anyway is sell you an explanation of why it was great. The cornerstone of live television, class will please now repeat, is the human face – with its spontaneity and tension, its halo of contradictions, its hints of life lived and life to come. Of course the TV camera is merciless; it draw on the person behind the face for all the resources that it can find there. It is not one eye but millions of eyes; it has high expectations and asks that the person before it be poised in the balance, somehow challenged or tested, so as to bring forth the most meanings from the ever-changing interplay of expressions in the face.

What made the jazz musicians extraordinary, when the camera put their features through its harsh examination, as how much it found there. Children and animals make the best movie actors, as Douglas Fairbanks said, because they are un-self-conscious and unable to fake. No more could these musicians be anything but themselves, for they are committed to independence and to a headlong attack of the cosmos. It showed; here – and no kidding – were individuals of stature and profundity, of flesh and substance, of warmth and bite. The music was good, yes, but what lifted "The Sound Of Jazz" to a level hitherto unattained was the sight of it being made. As a lady in White Plains sat down and wrote CBS as soon as the show was over, one so seldom has the chance "to see real people doing something that really matters to them."

Neither Belliett nor Hentoff expected the visual effect to be as sensational as it was. They knew that director Jack Smight "dug" jazz, but they would never have dared anticipate the deft and intricate camera work that enabled him to cut from one shot to another as skillfully as though he were a movie editor, working with developed film instead of a live show. The cameramen simply outdid themselves (for the record, and giving them a credit line they should have had on the air, they were Bob Heller, Harold Classen, Joe Sokota, Jack Brown, and Marty Tuck). Balliett and Hentoff's long and careful planning had made it possible for the musicians to extemporize; now the cameramen and the director could extemporize too, with the freedom to smudge the edges – lave that head half in the way – of practiced talent, the artistic intelligence that dares to risk a blunder because it knows precisely what it is doing. Jazz is like that, and as a result the two effects of "The Sound Of Jazz" – on the eye and on the ear – were miraculously in tune with each other.

Now there is talk not only of a repeat but of a series, and no one could better deserve it than this new-found team. But one wonders if the miracle can happen twice. Part of the reason that Balliett and Hentoff were let alone was that no one in high authority really understood what they were up to. Now the secret is out and there will be many hazards. As I sat with them in producer Robert Herridge's office, going over the first day's mail, the phone rang and Herridge answered it. He listened, laughed explosively, and  hung up. "Lawrence Welk," he said, "demands equal time." – Eric Larrabee

Also from the back cover: Eric Larrabee's hymn of praise to CBS' "The Sound Of Jazz" reproduced here by courtesy of Harper's Magazine, omits one important reason for the brilliant success of the show. Four days before the show went on the air, during a driving blizzard, all the jazzmen on the show appeared at Columbia's 30th Street studios to record the show for this album. They wore the usual recording uniforms, hats, sport shirts, snow-drenched shoes, and they played up a storm of their own that day. What you saw on television looked like the recording session; what you hear now is the sound of jazz.

Credit for this remarkable event belongs to a number of people, including the show's producer Robert Herridge, its director Jack Smight, associate producer Charles H. Schultz, and musical advisors Nat Hentoff and Whitney Balliett. Also responsible for this album are the executives of the various labels who graciously allowed their exclusive artists to participate in the recording. And finally, and of course most important, credit goes to the real pros of the show, the musicians, who worked quickly and flawlessly to blend their highly individual styles of jazz into a single swinging performance. To all of these we express our thanks that what they contributed is here forever to be enjoyed.

To help you enjoy the music more, the following is a summary of solos by each of the all-stars.

Side 1

Wild Man Blues

Henry "Red" Allen All-Stars including; Henry "Red Allen and Rex Stewart, trumpet; Pee Wee Russell, clarinet; Coleman Hawkins, tenor sax; Nat Pierce, piano; Jo Jones, drums; Milt Hinton, bass; Vic Dickerson, trombone

1st chorus: Allen

2nd chorus: Coleman Hawkins and Vic Dickenson

3rd chorus: Pee Wee Russell and Rex Stewart

4th chorus: Ensemble

Rosetta

Henry "Red" All-Stars

1st chorus: Allen

2nd chorus: Allen (vocal)

3rd chorus: Hawkins

4th chorus: Dickenson

5th chorus: Stewart

6th chorus: Russel

7th chorus: Allen

8th chorus: Ensemble (Pierce solo)

Fine And Mellow

Billie Holiday with Mal Waldron All-Stars including: Lester Young, Colman Hawkins, Ben Webster, tenor sax; Doc Cheatham, trumpet; Vic Dickenson, trombone; Mal Waldron, piano; Jo Jones, drums; Danny Barker, guitar; Jim Atlas, bass.

1st chorus: Holiday

2nd chorus: Young

3rd chorus: Webster

4th chorus: Holiday

5th chorus: Cheatham

6th chorus: Hawkins

7th chorus: Holiday

8th chorus: Dickenson

9th chorus: Holiday

10th chorus: Holiday

Blues

Jimmy Giuffre, Pee Wee Russell, clarinet; Jo Jones, drums; Danny Baker, guiar

Side 2

I Left My Baby

Count Basie All-Stars featuring Jimmy Rushing, including: Lester Young, Coleman Hawkins, Earl Warren, Harry Carney, saxophone; Roy Eldridge, Joe Newman, Doc Cheatham, Emmett Berry, trumpet; Vic Dickenson, Dickie Wells, Frank Rehab, trombone; Count Basie, piano; Jo Jones, drums; Eddie Jones, bass; Freddy Green, guitar.

1st/2nd chorus: Rising with Young

3rd chorus: Ensemble

4th chorus:Basie

5th chorus: Hawkings

6th/7th  chorus: Rushing with Wells

The Train And The River

The Jimmy Guiffre Trio including: Jimmy Giuffre, bariton tenor sax, and clarinet; Jim Hall, guitar; Jim Atlas, bass.

The Jimmy Giuffre Trio appears through the courtesy of Atlantic Records

Nervous

Piano solo by Mal Waldron.

Dickie's Dream

Count Basie All-Stars (same band as for I Left My Baby)

1st chorus: Young, Wells, Newman

2nd chorus: Young

3rd chorus: Rehab

4th chorus: Newman

5th chorus: Carney

6th chorus: Dickenson

7th chorus: Berry

8th chorus: Hawkins

9th chorus: Wells

10th chorus: Eldridge

11th chorus: Basie

12th chorus: Ensemble

Note: One member of this great assemblage of jazz immortals did not appear on the show or on these recorded performance. Walter Page, one of the greatest of all bass players and an alumnus of the Basie rhythm section, could not leave his bed to join the others. Walter Page died of pneumonia Friday morning, December 20, 1957. Columbia and the musicians appearing on this album dedicated it to his memory.