Alone Together - George Shearing & Marian McPartland

 

Alone Together

Alone Together

George Shearing & Marian McPartland

Produced by Carl E. Jefferson, President, Concord Jazz, Inc.

Recorded at Soundmixers, New York City, March 1981

Remixed at PER, San Francisco, California

Recording and Remix Engineer: Phil Edwards

Mastered by George Horn

Cover Photo: Charles Stewart

Cover Photo/ Pianos: Bruce Burr

Art Direction: Dick Hendler

George Shearing and Marian McPartland play Baldwin pianos

Concord Jazz CJ-171

1981

From the back cover: "Ah," said George Shearing: "Here's the tea." 

"Indeed," said Marian McPartland. "How delightful."

So it was that tea was served, with biscuits and cocktail sandwiches, to two world-renowned music makers, British-born, enjoying each other's company on a sunny Friday afternoon.

"How would you like yours, my dear?" said George.

Marian brightened. "English style, of course. Hot and strong. And out of a cup. I can't stand to drink tea out of a mug."

"Milk first, of course?"

"Of course. You know, when you pour the tea on top of the milk, you can tell how strong your tea is going to be."

George nodded agreement. "You are so right," he said. "After all, you can always add more milk, but you can't change the tea once it's been diluted."

Things went tripping along in that vein for hours – easy, deliciously civilized. A little formal, perhaps, but only as a point of shared heritage. Enough to keep the tone. Witty, supremely adult, ever-intelligent.

Marian and George have been friend and admires of one another for years. They've played together on countless occasions. That they should one day record together was a foregone conclusion. No surprise that the light and effortless rapport which characterizes these two at their ease should also carry over into their work as a duo. They share several readily identifiable qualities as masters of jazz piano: unerring taste, a flair for elegance and high style. A fascination with fine, timeless melodies.

Above all, both are the proprietors of sparkling intellects, which illuminate and intensify their playing. And as they sit together on a Friday afternoon in early autumn, drinking their tea and commenting on these performances, there is a sense of shared respect and affection which can touch the heart as readily as it entertains the mind. Their remarks, in part, are as follows:

O Grande Amor. Marian: This is a wonderful Jobim tune. I don't know why it's not down more often.

George: I've found I can play it at many tempos, and get lots of textures and feelings out of it.

MM: Oh-Oh – that's the place where on a perfectly good take I just stopped playing and said something idiotic like, "Wasn't there on more chorus of this?" when things were going just fine. George just started right in again; we got it the next time, and it was even better.

To Bill Evans: GS: Marian, you'd better comment on this. I wrote it in tribute to Bill Evans, and threw it at you as a solo.

MM: You gave me a tape of yourself playing this, with a note saying, "You're not playing the melody as I taped it," and suggesting a change of one note. I changed it – then I played your tape and found that you'd played the note the way I'd been playing it. But I didn't dare contradict you at the time. The tune doesn't copy Bill Evan's style – but it has that wistful quality that he had.

All Thought The Night. MM: I'm glade we did this one. It's a Porter tune I never quite learned to play.

GS: Porter's a master of that kind of light two-beat. The songs just ride gaily along on top of it. Listen, too – this is one of those instances where we were doing part of each other' work. We're both filling the middle register, so that instead of four hands on two keyboards, it sounds a little like three hands on one.

Born To Be Blue. MM: This tune is damned hard. It's easy to modulate yourself right into the wrong key.

GS: But it lies very well. I wonder what key Mel actually wrote it in. 

MM: Why don't we call and ask him?

GS: I'm just bizarre enough to do that, you know.

MM: Yes, I know.

They Say It's Spring. GS: Tommy Flanagan brought this one to my attention. I like that kind of eighth-note feel we get there. Didn't we get this one the first time around?

MM: Yes. Listen – that was interesting. Was that me?

GS: Yes, m'dear. Of course. Why don't you pour yourself another cup of tea?

Alone Together. GS: Listening to us here, I think we're a lot more together than alone though we do play alone during that exchange of eight-bar phrases.

MM: We wind up here getting a little Bach-like invention.

GS: Perhaps we could call it a three-part intention.

MM: I never realized how hard it was to be a bass player before attempting to play some of those extended left-bass lines I do here. I'm always surprised at how well they work out.

There'll Be Other Times. GS: This is Marian's composition, which I presume to play as a solo.

MM: He's tantalized me with this for 25 years, since he first heard it. I'd come into a club where he was working, and he'd play just enough of it for me to think that he might be intending to play it. But he never did. Just enough to let me know he still remembered it.

GS: I could never fool you. You knew I'd never played it. But I love it. I'm just lazy enough, and sufficiently in love with the pastoral to play this kind of ballad the rest of my life.

MM: It sounds as though you're thinking of it in terms of an orchestral score when you play it. Strings, flutes – little takeoffs on Delius, Ravel.

Nobody Else But Me. MM: I keep hearing allusions to Dave McKenna peeking into what we're doing here.

GS: Not surprising. We both like him quite a lot... and I love the lyric: "...I'm not very bright, she's not very bright..."

MM: I beg your pardon.

GS: Listen to that ending, I still like it.

MM: I had to laugh when you said to me, "Wouldn't it be nice if we did that together, in thirds?" I said, "Forget it" – it wouldn't have been nice, unless I'd gone home and woodshedded it. And I had no intention of doing that.

Chasing Shadows. MM: I've always loved this. It had a great vogue in England years ago. I thought it was British.

GS: I feel that this tempo and this song belong to Teddy Wilson. Don't be surprised if you hear a bit of him in what I do here.

MM: Funny, though. In those fours we do, I don't think I was consciously avoiding playing that way, but it comes out like that. Yours are kind of Teddyish, but mine are sort of laid back and chordal.

GS: Oops – catch that ending. One final shadow...

MM: You chased that one right into the piano, I guess.

Improvisation. GS: This one was really form the top left-hand corner. No key. No tempo.

MM: It's what Alec Wilder used to call aleatory music.

GS: Just five notes, courtesy of an esteemed friend, who suggested them.

MM: Do you remember which of us did what?

GS: Certain things, but not all. We were really thinking together here. I  think that's what' nicest about something like this. We did it together, and it worked magnificently. – Richard M. Sudhalter - Jazz Critic, Author and Cornettist 

O Grande Amor

To Bill Evans

All Through The Night

Born To Be Blue

They Say It's Spring

Alone Together

There'll Be Other Times

Nobody Else But Me

Chasing Shadows

Improvisation On A Theme By Carl Edson Jefferson