March 2006
Giacomo Gates, consummate jazz artist,
to appear April 7 with Joe Cartwright Trio By Tom Ineck
The
consummate jazz artist is a collection of all that has passed before—in
personal experiences and in the history of the art. He also has an ear
always open to the present moment.
Singer Giacomo Gates is such an artist.
He draws on a blue-collar New England upbringing, a natural inclination
to song and a deep respect for the elders of the jazz vocal art form.
When he launches his expressive baritone voice in the interpretation of
a jazz standard, what comes out is pure Giacomo Gates. Gates
will perform in Lincoln April 7 at the Melting Spot,
227 N. Ninth St. He will be accompanied by the Joe Cartwright Trio of
Kansas City, with pianist Joe Cartwright, bassist Gerald Spaits and
drummer Ray DeMarchi.
Rather like the smell of greasepaint for
the Broadway child actor, Gates grew up with the smell of grease and
paint in his nostrils. His father was an auto body-and-fender repairman
who operated his own shop in small-town Connecticut.
“My parents were married about eight or
nine years before I was born,” Gates recalled in a recent phone
interview from his home in the Bridgeport, Conn., area. “When I was
going to be born, they built an apartment on the back of the garage. So,
I grew up smellin’ thinner.”
Born in 1950, it wasn’t until his 40th
year that Gates turned his lifelong passion for music into a profession.
Before that he had toiled, like his father before him, at a wide variety
of blue-collar jobs, including a 14-year stint in Alaska. But the move
to music wasn’t as sudden or unpredictable as it sounds.
“That transition was like a return,
actually, because as a kid I grew up around my father, who played
classical music around the house—records—and he also played the violin.
And he played pretty well. Here’s a guy doin’ body and fender work but
he played classical violin, and he played one of those ‘crying gypsy’
violins. He didn’t play for a living, but he played very good.”
So early on, Gates was exposed to
classical music, as well as the swing music of Basie, Ellington and Cab
Calloway. His formal instruction in music began at age 8 on the guitar.
“I took lessons for about seven years. I
could play OK, but I couldn’t play what I heard in my head. But I could
sing what I heard in my head.”
While
still in his teens, he sang for a few wedding gigs with a group of older
guys, introducing him to the tunes of Harold Arlen, Cole Porter, George
Gershwin, Rodgers and Hart and other composers of the great American
songbook. But, after all, Gates was a child of the ‘60s, so he also was
hip to the soul music of James Brown, The Four Tops and The Isley
Brothers and enjoyed the rock music of The Rolling Stones. Jazz,
however, was never far away.
“I would play Dexter Gordon for my
friends and they would say, ‘Who’s that? What’s that?’ I’d play
Thelonious Monk and they’d look at me like, ‘Whaaa?’ But I was fortunate
that I was aware of that music.” For a real education, the young Gates
tuned in jazz radio stations based in New York City. Among his favorite
singers were the trio of Lambert, Hendricks and Ross and Joe Williams.
But his own leap into a jazz vocal career came much later.
“I went to college for about a year, and
took civil engineering. Mathematics is not my strong point, so here I am
in an engineering school, right? I was putting myself through school,
working part-time. I was working really hard to just about pass, and
paying for it myself, and I said maybe this is not for me.”
Always interested in the construction of
things, he worked as a laborer, paving roads, installing catch basins,
laying pipe. He drove everything from trucks and tractor-trailers to
bulldozers and loaders. In 1975, he took his accumulated skills north to
Alaska, where oil pipeline construction had created an economic boom
unrivaled since the Gold Rush days.
He landed in Fairbanks, but was unable
to score a decent job. “It was the tail-end of the boom,” he recalled.
So he hung sheetrock, clerked in a liquor store and even worked as a
bouncer at an illegal gambling joint.
“It was great. I was 25 years old and I
was having a hell of a time. I liked the vibe. It was like the last
frontier.”
Eventually, his construction trade
skills proved a valuable asset for Gates. He would be flown with a crew
to a remote, isolated location, where barges carrying construction
materials would be unloaded.
“You’d build a place to live, then you’d
build a place to eat, then you’d start to build a road.” He would work
wherever he was needed, including the North Slope, the Aleutian Islands
and the Brooks Range. Sometimes, the closest settlement was an Eskimo
village 80 miles away.
It wasn’t until the mid-1980s that he
was introduced to the Fairbanks Summer Arts Festival. There he attended
a two-week vocal workshop conducted by cabaret singer Chris Calloway,
daughter of the legendary bandleader Cab Calloway. Seduced by the
possibility of a music career—and tired of life in the Alaskan
wilderness—he returned to his home state, closer to the urban
environment where his art could flourish.
“It
was certainly culture shock, coming back here. It was crowded when I
left, and it was more crowded
when I got back. I still miss those open spaces and the solitude and the
beauty of it (Alaska). But I went back up there to teach in ’99, and
it’s turning into America. It’s not crowded yet, but there’s McDonald’s
and Burger King and Subway and 7-Eleven and Cinema 1, 2, 3, 4, 5.”
Encouraged by educator and jazz writer
Grover Sales, Gates began to test the waters, singing locally and
regionally. Sales, who died in 2004, was so influential in his support
that Gates dedicated his most recent release, “Centerpiece,” to his
memory.
“I was just trying to get heard. I made
my own little cassette because you had to have a demo to give people.”
DMP Records liked Gates well enough to
release his first recording, 1995’s “Blues Skies,” which was produced by
Helen Keane, best known for her long tenure with pianist Bill Evans. The
CD featured the reed virtuoso Jerome Richardson and the impressive
rhythm section of pianist Harold Danko, bassist Rufus Reid and drummer
Akira Tana and accurately reflected the singer’s penchant for the hip,
relaxed vocal style of Jon Hendricks and Eddie Jefferson, which few
other singers are emulating. Gates even contributed lyrics to Monk’s
“Five Spot Blues,” retitled “Five Cooper Square.” Also displaying his
talent for vocalese and mimicking the sound of instruments, it was an
impressive debut.
“That helped me get a little more
recognition, and I started to travel a little bit, do some festivals.” A
second recording, “Fly Rite,” followed in 1998 on Sharp Nine Records.
Again he was in very good company, backed by pianist David Hazeltine,
bassist Peter Washington and drummer Ben Riley, with guest soloist Jim
Rotondi on trumpet and flugelhorn. The repertoire drew heavily on
standards and featured a Gates lyric to Lee Morgan’s “Speedball.”
The Origin label released “Centerpiece”
in 2004. Harold Danko is back on piano, along with bassist Ray Drummond,
drummer Greg Bandy, guitarist Vic Juris and saxophonist Vincent Herring.
Its song list is a similar mix of familiar standards—“Summertime,” “All
of Me,” “Route 66”—and more obscure gems, including “I Told You I Love
You, Now Get Out,” “Scotch and Soda,” and King Pleasure’s “Swan Song,“ a
lyrical take on Gene Ammons’ “Hittin’ the Jug.” Gates contributed new
lyrics for “Milestones.” For a review of "Centerpiece," click
here.
Gates also is featured prominently on
organist Eddie Landsberg’s 2002 release “Remembering Eddie Jefferson,”
even penning the opening track, “Mr. Jefferson.” For a review of
"Remembering Eddie Jefferson," click
here.
Modest and cautious by nature, Gates
downplays his relatively rapid rise to success since his decision to go
professional in 1990.
“I’m still trying to make something
happen after 15 years, 16 years,” he says. “It doesn’t feel that
quickly, but then again, when you’re in it, you can’t tell.”
Gates is quick to recognize his
influences and his respect for those who have gone before him. He
recites a long litany of the great vocalists and instrumental “vocalizers.”
“I’m
certainly a Frank Sinatra fan, a great singer. I’m certainly a Dean
Martin fan. Who’s more relaxed and takes himself less seriously than
Dean Martin? That’s why he’s fun, because he’s just havin’ a good time.
I like Sammy Davis Jr., great pipes. I like Betty Carter and I like
Carmen McRae, and I like Mose Allison and Nat Cole. I’m certainly
influenced by Lambert, Hendricks and Ross and Eddie Jefferson, Joe
Williams, Joe Carroll, and Babs Gonzales, a great scat singer. I also
think I’m influenced by the horn players who ‘sang,’ like Lester Young
and Ben Webster and Stan Getz. Lou Donaldson is right out of Charlie
Parker and Sonny Stitt. They’re very lyrical players. When I listen to
somebody like Lou or Dexter (Gordon), I can hear the words. Moody, Miles
is very lyrical, Chet Baker. I don’t sing like Chet Baker, but I hope
I’m influenced by him.”
His ability to write vocalese—note-perfect
and rhythmically faithful lyrics to difficult instrumental pieces often
written many years before—is no mystery to Gates, who said he simply
combines his vocal tendencies with his instrumental background. With
near-missionary zeal, he explained the process.
“When I heard Lambert, Hendricks and
Ross, when I heard Eddie Jefferson, to me they were singers who were in
the band. They weren’t in front of the band. They were in the band.
That’s what made it happen for me. And, you could tell the musicians
were having a good time. The singer was having a good time. When you
listened to that music, you couldn’t help but have a good time.
“They weren’t just singing rhythmically
flat-footed melodies. They were singing the triplets and the dotted
quarters, and there was a rhythmic pulse to their singing, and the story
was always a little more involved than just the lyric to the chorus. I’m
a fan of this music, so that’s how I ended up doing it.” A big Monk
fan, Gates has written lyrics to "Let's Cool One," "Think of One," and "Epistrophy,"
in addition to "Five Spot Blues."
What attracts him most to the sound of
the jazz masters was the sound of an individual, a unique personality
finding expression in song, whether as an instrumentalist or a vocalist.
Whether a listener understands music theory is irrelevant.
“The people who don’t know the theory of
it still know what they like and know what they hear. I never play an
audience cheap. Audiences know what they’re listening to.”
Gates has two recording projects in the
works. One is a Gershwin tribute with a piano trio led by former
Nebraskan Rex Cadwallader, now living in Connecticut. For many years a
contributor of compositions to the Nebraska Jazz Orchestra’s repertoire,
Cadwallader returned in 2005 to perform with the NJO. Gates expects his
next CD as a leader to see the light of day by the end of the year. As
planned, it will feature a piano trio, plus three of four horns.
Like many jazz artists as his level of
ability, Gates also is in demand as an educator, dividing his time
between Wesleyan University in Middletown, Conn., the Hartford
Conservatory of Music and New Haven’s Neighborhood Music School. While
on the road, he also conducts workshops and clinics. Students and school
administrators appreciate the fact that he’s a working instructor, but
Gates says he also benefits from teaching.
“Every time I work with someone, I get
something out of what they’re doing, and I’m realizing something else
myself.”
BMF turns focus toward
local scene in 2006
By Tom Ineck
When
the Berman Music Foundation gathered to conduct its annual
meeting Jan. 31 at the Dish restaurant in downtown Lincoln, it was with
a cautiously optimistic outlook for the coming year.
Despite its business meeting agenda, the
occasion also brought together many old-time friends and associates to
celebrate the BMF’s many accomplishments in its 11-year history.
Musician and foundation consultant Norman Hedman had recently arrived
from his home in New York City, and consultant Dan Demuth had driven
from his home in Colorado Springs, Colo. Also on hand were BMF president
Butch Berman and his wife and most trusted advisor, Grace Sankey Berman;
assistant Ruthann Nahorny; photographer Rich Hoover; attorney Tony
Rager; and yours truly—writer, editor and website manager for the
foundation.
Without dampening the celebrative mood,
Rager said the BMF would continue to produce the foundation’s online
newsletter (currently publishing three or four times a year), but would
turn its attention and financial focus more exclusively toward working
with local jazz artists and local venues, including two recent additions
to downtown Lincoln—La Krem Bistro and The Melting Spot.
Aside from those plans, Rager
emphasized, there are no large financial commitments in the offing for
the coming year, a year of retrenchment in the hopes of brighter days
ahead, as the BMF builds its asset base.
Lest we forget, the foundation already
has done much in its first 11 years. What follows is a partial list of
jazz artists the BMF has presented in Lincoln since its inception in
March 1995: singer Karrin Allyson, Claude "Fiddler" Williams, the
Quintet of the Hot Club of San Francisco, saxophonist Greg Abate,
trumpeter Claudio Roditi, singer Kevin Mahogany, the Kenny Barron Trio,
saxophonist Joe Lovano, bassist Christian McBride, saxophonist Benny
Waters, pianist Jane Jarvis, singer-flutist Andrienne Wilson, Norman
Hedman’s Tropique, the Mingus Big Band, Bobby Watson and Horizon,
pianist Eldar Djangirov, pianist Monty Alexander, the George Cables
Trio, singer Sheila Jordan, bassist Cameron Brown, and guitarist Jerry
Hahn.
"Sherman, the Boy
Wonder," R.I.P.
By Butch Berman
It’s
been so long, it’s hard to remember…but I think I first met Sherman,
an English Springer spaniel, unclaimed lost
dog, at the Lincoln Humane Society around 1992 I was a
suffering co-dependant in a relationship turning lousy, trying to find a
pet for the woman’s ungrateful pre-adolescent daughter. The little girl
spotted Sherman first, and ended up taking him home. He was three and a
half years old, and probably was lost on a hunt, perhaps being gun-shy
or, like me, detesting hunters and hunting for the sheer sport of it.
How would they like their heads mounted up on a wall? (I’m getting off
the track here.) He was
a cute guy, but seemed scared of everything. Whenever he got upset, he’d
roll over and pee on himself. Needless to say, Sherman’s tenure with
this mother-daughter team was pretty much doomed from the start. Since
he and my main side-dog, Ben, got along, I kinda kidnapped Sherman from
their back yard not long after I get wise myself and split the scene…and
the rest, as they say, is history.
Shermy
was a handful in the early days. He’d follow his nose, or be off after a
rabbit or squirrel, and lose his way from where he started. Neighbors
would always bring him over saying he appeared confused, but happy,
hanging out in their yards, even if it was a block or so away. I think
he might have been a horse in his prior life, as he could run like the
wind, so swift and graceful…but usually end up in a pickle somehow. We
had our moments, but certainly endured many wonderful years. Like the
Alfred E. Newman of dogs, Sherman’s “What, me worry?” attitude is what
kept him aloft for so long. Sherman’s way, Sherman’s couch, Sherman’s
house, Sherman’s master…you get the picture. God bless him. When I
acquired Toby (see his memorial in the
December 2004 newsletter) from yet another girlfriend du jour who didn’t
last long, and literally flew the coop, the feared pack of Ben, Sherman
and Toby was born, much to the chagrin of many undeserving puppies and
their owners at our beloved dog run here in Lincoln. Sherman would pick
out the intended victim for the day, bark, and Ben and Toby would run in
and cause havoc like a scene out of a WWE wrestling event. I once had to
give Sherman a kick to the ribs to defuse a situation that could have
turned catastrophic. I felt guilty about that for years, but in the
pre-“Dog Whisperer” days, I had to get as down and dirty as the “boys.” Moving
ahead to now, I figured Sherman to be approaching 20 years of age.
That’s an incredible number for most dogs, and especially for large guys
like him (a 70-pounder, at least). That
translates to 140 years in human terms. Pretty fucking amazing, if you
ask me (excuse my “French”). My most marvelous veterinarian, Dr. Stan
Cassel, who’s been taking care of my animals
for nearly 30 years, said Sherman was the healthiest and oldest dog he’d
ever dealt with. His blood work, done just weeks before he passed, was
perfect for a dog of any age. Unfortunately, besides his hearing and
seeing abilities becoming a bit compromised, the muscles in his rear
legs were going fast. A Springer with no spring left is a sad situation.
He just couldn’t jump in the car anymore, or hop on the couch and bed to
keep me company or, lately, just get up off the floor. Stairs were
really becoming problematic, and he’d often fall, usually breaking my
heart, thankfully, rather than his weakening bones. When I
heard him crying, stuck in the dog-door passageway trying to get back in
the house in sub-zero weather, I knew it was time. If I hadn’t been home
when that happened, it could have been a horrible end to a great dog
deserving a much more dignified journey to doggie heaven. Speaking of
which…I feel that my old buddy may be heading back to this planet on two
legs for a change. But for a short time I hope that Benny, Toby and now
sweet Sherman are having a good old time somewhere out there. In
closing, let me quote my long time ping-pong pal, artist and musician
Brad Krieger, who said of Sherman’s departure, “All the dogs up there
must be thinking to themselves...’Oh no…there’s a THIRD one.’”
R.I.P.,
big guy.
Feature Articles
Articles 2005
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Articles 2003
Articles 2002
Feature Articles
Music news, opinion, memorials
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