Sir George Shearing, Gentle Jazz Piano Icon, Has Died : A Blog Supreme : NPR

Sir George Shearing, Gentle Jazz Piano Icon, Has Died : A Blog Supreme : NPR

Pianist and composer Sir George Shearing has died, at age 91.

Born blind, Shearing was a self-taught musician, the youngest of nine children of a London coal man. In a career spent almost entirely in the U.S., he won fame, fortune and eventually a knighthood from Queen Elizabeth for a lifetime of elegant jazz.

the fresh air interview

Remembering The Composer Of 'Lullaby Of Birdland'

Shearing will always be associated first and foremost with his composition "Lullaby of Birdland." He wrote the piece in 1952 about the jazz scene on 52nd Street in New York City. It was very quickly covered by jazz stars of all styles.

But he was far from a one-hit wonder. During a career that stretched from his native London during the blitz of World War II to his adopted home of New York — from which he toured the globe — Shearing projected not only graceful song but an elegant personal style. His touch was instantly recognizable for its nuance and articulation. His solos often employed rich block chords: harmonies voiced in notes played simultaneously, bunched together.

Shearing assumed no gap between classical technique and jazz swing, yet he never let virtuosity stand in the way of expression. His first big hit, a version of the song "September in the Rain," actually preceded "Lullaby of Birdland." It was recorded in 1949 and introduced a new attitude in jazz, which came to be called "cool."

While Shearing loved bebop — the fast, virtuosic style developed in the 1940s — he recognized there was a market for something less frenetic. He called "September in the Rain" an antidote to the the music he heard when he immigrated to Manhattan after World War II.

"We came in at the end of a very frantic era — the bebop era, where they take a tune like 'Indiana' [hums melody] and make a very complex [hums rapid improvisation]," he told NPR's Bob Edwards in 1995. "Make up a very complex melody out of it. And so, when you get to the end of this frantic era and somebody sits down with vibes and guitar and a well-written bass line and all in very good order, it's a lot easier on the ear."

Shearing's vibes, guitar, bass, drums and piano quintet popularized an easier, gentler jazz. But it was never cloying or "smooth" — always tasteful and musically substantial.

Within the commercial conventions of the 1950s and early '60s he was an experimenter, embracing Latin dance rhythms, working with new instrumentalists including vibists Margie Hyams and Cal Tjader, harmonica player and guitarist Toots Thielemans, and conguero Mongo Santamaria. He also forged enduring collaborations with musicians such as violinist Stephane Grappelli, bassist Brian Torff and singer Mel Torme.

Torme spoke highly of Shearing. "Georgie is absolutely right that we share a great love of things English," Torme said. "Georgie was English; he's as American as apple pie these days; and I'm American but I love the English ... This is one of the loveliest exports ever to come from over the sea."

George Shearing came a long way in life, from poor but honest beginnings in London to being celebrated on the international stage. He never allowed his blindness keep him from anything. Whether at the birth of the cool, playing Latin rhythms and conceiving chamber jazz, Shearing was a musician with a gift for reaching listeners beyond category.

Shearing died of congestive heart failure Monday morning in New York City, his management confirmed. But up until his death, at almost every performance, he played a certain lullaby.

Felix Contreras contributed to this report, and is the voice heard on air.

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James Moody, Jazz Saxophonist, Dies at 85 - NYTimes.com

James Moody, Jazz Saxophonist, Dies at 85 - NYTimes.com

By PETER KEEPNEWS

James Moody, a jazz saxophonist and flutist celebrated for his virtuosity, his versatility and his onstage ebullience, died on Thursday in San Diego. He was 85 and lived in San Diego.

His death, at a hospice in San Diego, was confirmed by his wife, Linda.

In November 2010, Mr. Moody revealed that he had pancreatic cancer and had decided against receiving chemotherapy or radiation treatment. He underwent surgery in February to have his gall bladder and blockage in his digestive system removed.

Mr. Moody, who began his career with the trumpeter Dizzy Gillespie shortly after World War II and maintained it well into the 21st century, developed distinctive and equally fluent styles on both tenor and alto saxophone, a relatively rare accomplishment in jazz. He also played soprano saxophone, and in the mid-1950s he became one of the first significant jazz flutists, impressing the critics if not himself.

“I’m not a flute player,” he told one interviewer. “I’m a flute holder.”

The self-effacing humor of that comment was characteristic of Mr. Moody, who took his music more seriously than he took himself. His fellow musicians admired him for his dexterity, his unbridled imagination and his devotion to his craft, as did critics; reviewing a performance in 1980, Gary Giddins of The Village Voice praised Mr. Moody’s “unqualified directness of expression” and said his improvisations at their best were “mini-epics in which impassioned oracles, comic relief, suspense and song vie for chorus time.” But audiences were equally taken by his ability to entertain.

Defying the stereotype of the modern jazz musician as austere and humorless (and following the example of Gillespie, whom he considered his musical mentor and with whom he worked on and off for almost half a century), Mr. Moody told silly jokes; peppered his repertory with unlikely numbers like “Beer Barrel Polka” and the theme from “The Flintstones”; and often sang. His singing voice was unpolished but enthusiastic, and his noticeable lisp, a result of having been born partly deaf, added to the comic effect.

The song he sang most often had a memorable name and an unusual history. Based on the harmonic structure of “I’m in the Mood for Love,” it began life as an instrumental when Mr. Moody recorded it in Stockholm in 1949, improvising an entirely new melody on a borrowed alto saxophone. Released as “I’m in the Mood for Love” (and credited to that song’s writers) even though his rendition bore only the faintest resemblance to the original tune, it was a modest hit for Mr. Moody in 1951. It became a much bigger hit shortly afterward when the singer Eddie Jefferson wrote lyrics to Mr. Moody’s improvisation and another singer, King Pleasure, recorded it as “Moody’s Mood for Love.”

“Moody’s Mood for Love” (which begins with the memorable lyric “There I go, there I go, there I go, there I go ...”) became a jazz and pop standard, recorded by Aretha Franklin, George Benson and others, and a staple of Mr. Moody’s concert and nightclub performances as sung by Mr. Jefferson, who was a member of his band for many years. Mr. Jefferson was shot to death in 1979; when Mr. Moody, who was in the middle of a long hiatus from jazz at the time, resumed his career a few years later, he began singing the song himself. He never stopped.

James Moody — he was always Moody, never James, Jim or Jimmy, to his friends and colleagues — was born in Savannah, Ga., on March 26, 1925, and raised in Newark. Despite being hard of hearing, he gravitated toward music and began playing alto saxophone at 16, later switching to tenor. He played with an all-black Army Air Forces band during World War II. After being discharged in 1946, he auditioned for Gillespie, who led one of the first big bands to play the complex and challenging new form of jazz known as bebop. He failed that audition but passed a second one a few months later, and soon captured the attention of the jazz world with a brief but fiery solo on the band’s recording of the Gillespie composition “Emanon.”

Mr. Moody’s career was twice interrupted by alcoholism. The first time, in 1948, he moved to Paris to live with an uncle while he recovered. He returned to the United States in 1951 to capitalize on the success of “I’m in the Mood for Love,” forming a seven-piece band that mixed elements of modern jazz and rhythm and blues. After a fire at a Philadelphia nightclub destroyed the band’s equipment, uniforms and sheet music in 1958, he began drinking again and checked himself into Overbrook, a psychiatric hospital in Cedar Grove, N.J., for several months. He celebrated his recovery by writing and recording the up-tempo blues “Last Train From Overbrook,” which became one of his best-known compositions.

In 1963 he reunited with Gillespie, joining his popular quintet. He was extensively featured as both a soloist and the straight man for Gillespie’s between-songs banter, sharpening his musical and comedic skills at the same time. He left Gillespie in 1969 to again try his luck as a bandleader, but met with limited success; four years later he left jazz entirely to work in Las Vegas hotel orchestras, first at the Flamingo and later at the Hilton.

“The reason I went to Las Vegas,” he told Saxophone Journal in 1998, “was because I was married and had a daughter and I wanted to grow up with my kid. I was married before and I didn’t grow up with the kids. So I said, ‘I’m going to really be a father.’ I did much better with this one because at least I stayed until my daughter was 12 years old. And that’s why I worked Vegas, because I could stay in one spot.”

After seven years of pit-band anonymity, providing accompaniment for everyone from Milton Berle to Ike and Tina Turner to Liberace, Mr. Moody divorced his wife and returned to the East Coast to resume his jazz career. The final three decades of his life were active and productive, with frequent touring and recording (as the leader of his own small group and, on occasion, as a sideman with Gillespie, who died in 1993) and even a brief foray into acting, with a bit part in the 1997 Clint Eastwood film “Midnight in the Garden of Good and Evil,” set in Mr. Moody’s birthplace, Savannah.

The National Endowment for the Arts named him a Jazz Master in 1998. “Moody’s Mood for Love” was named to the Grammy Hall of Fame in 2001. His last album, “Moody 4B,” was recorded in 2008 and released in 2010 on the IPO label.

Mr. Moody, who was divorced twice, is survived by his wife of 21 years, Linda, and three sons, Patrick, Regan and Danny, all of California.

For all his accomplishments, Mr. Moody always saw his musical education as a work in progress. “I’ve always wanted to be around people who know more than me,” he told The Hartford Courant in 2006, “because that way I keep learning.”

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