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PITTSBURGH JAZZ

 

From Blakey to Brown, Como to Costa, Eckstine to Eldridge, Galbraith to Garner, Harris to Hines, Horne to Hyman, Jamal to Jefferson, Kelly to Klook; Mancini to Marmarosa, May to Mitchell, Negri to Nestico, Parlan to Ponder, Reed to Ruther, Strayhorn to Sullivan, Turk to Turrentine, Wade to Williams… the forthcoming publication Treasury of Pittsburgh Jazz Connections by Dr. Nelson Harrison and Dr. Ralph Proctor, Jr. will document the legacy of one of the world’s greatest jazz capitals.

 

Do you want to know who Dizzy Gillespie  idolized? Did you ever wonder who inspired Kenny Clarke and Art Blakey? Who was the pianist that mentored Monk, Bud Powell, Tad Dameron, Elmo Hope, Sarah Vaughan and Mel Torme? Who was Art Tatum’s idol and Nat Cole’s mentor? What musical quartet pioneered the concept adopted later by the Modern Jazz Quartet? Were you ever curious to know who taught saxophone to Stanley Turrentine or who taught piano to Ahmad Jamal? What community music school trained Robert McFerrin, Sr. for his history-making debut with the Metropolitan Opera? What virtually unknown pianist was a significant influence on young John Coltrane, Shirley Scott, McCoy Tyner, Bobby Timmons and Ray Bryant when he moved to Philadelphia from Pittsburgh in the 1940s?  Would you be surprised to know that Erroll Garner attended classes at the Julliard School of Music in New York and was at the top of his class in writing and arranging proficiency?

 

Some answers  can be gleaned from the postings on the Pittsburgh Jazz Network.

 

For almost 100 years the Pittsburgh region has been a metacenter of jazz originality that is second to no other in the history of jazz.  One of the best kept secrets in jazz folklore, the Pittsburgh Jazz Legacy has heretofore remained mythical.  We have dubbed it “the greatest story never told” since it has not been represented in writing before now in such a way as to be accessible to anyone seeking to know more about it.  When it was happening, little did we know how priceless the memories would become when the times were gone.

 

Today jazz is still king in Pittsburgh, with events, performances and activities happening all the time. The Pittsburgh Jazz Network is dedicated to celebrating and showcasing the places, artists and fans that carry on the legacy of Pittsburgh's jazz heritage.

 

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Duke Ellington is first African-American and the first musician to solo on U.S. circulating coin

    MARY LOU WILLIAMS     

            INTERVIEW

       In Her Own Words

Dr. Lonnie Smith 1942 – 2021

One of jazz’s leading organists, he was a key inspiration for the 1990s acid-jazz movement, which in turn revived his career


Dr. Lonnie Smith at the 2013 TD Toronto Jazz Festival Dr. Lonnie Smith at the 2013 TD Toronto Jazz Festival (photo: Kris King)

Dr. Lonnie Smith, a Hammond B-3 organist who was a major stylist in the realm of soul jazz—and, later, one of the architects of acid jazz—died September 28 at his home in Fort Lauderdale, Florida. He was 79.

His death was announced in a statement by his label, Blue Note Records. Cause of death was pulmonary fibrosis.

A native of Buffalo, New York, Smith converted the organ grooves of his primary influence, Jimmy Smith, into a unique, genre-busting style. Early recordings with George Benson and Lou Donaldson incorporated his love of R&B; in later years he embraced darker funk, fusion, and psychedelia and collaborated with a host of unusual musical partners, from the Roots to Iggy Pop. His music became a foundation (by way of sampling) of the acid-jazz movement of the early 1990s, sparking a renaissance in a career that had then lain dormant for a decade.

Smith’s distinctive music was paralleled by a distinctive persona. Though he was known affectionately as “Doc,” the “doctor” honorific in Smith’s name was an invention of his own (in part to avoid confusion with his fellow keyboardist Lonnie Liston Smith). His trademark was a turban, which he adopted in the mid-1970s; reports in some corners said that Smith had become a Sikh, while others insisted that the new headgear was purely an affectation. Smith declined to answer questions about it. However, WBGO radio’s Greg Bryant, who had previously worked with Smith, has said that he wore the turban “as a symbol of universal spirituality, love and respect.”

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The more mysterious aspects of his presentation were offset by his playful demeanor—rather than a shadowy enigma, the Doc simply enjoyed messing with you. This writer interviewed him in 2012, two days after his 70th birthday; when I wished him a belated happy birthday, he gave me a confused look and said, “Not my birthday!” When I pressed the point that yes, he had just turned 70, he leaned into me and whispered, “That’s a fallacy.”

Dr. B3: The Soul of the Music, a crowdfunded documentary on Smith’s life and music, was produced earlier this year.

Lonnie Smith was born July 3, 1942 in Lackawanna, New York, just south of Buffalo. His mother was his earliest musical influence, a music lover who sang around the house and exposed her son to jazz, classical, and especially gospel music. Smith himself began as a vocalist, singing in a doo-wop group called the Teen Kings (later the Supremes—no relation to the Motown group) for six dollars a night. Saxophonist Grover Washington Jr., a childhood friend, was a onetime member of the group. As he became a teenager, Smith began experimenting with brass instruments, including trumpet and tuba, but also began learning piano by ear.

At about 20 years old, Smith was spending hours a day at a small music store owned by a man named Art Kubera. “He said, ‘Could I ask you a question, son? …Why do you come here every day and you sit and you sit?’” Smith recalled in an interview with Jake Feinberg. “I said, ‘Well, sir, if I had an instrument, I could learn how to play it. If I could learn how to play it, I could make a living.’ So one day I went in and he closed the place up and said, ‘Follow me.’ I went with him, he opened the door of his house in the back … there was a brand new B-3 organ…. He says, ‘If you can get this out of here, it’s yours.’” For the rest of his life, Smith referred to Kubera as “my angel.”

He quickly taught himself to play the organ, listening closely to records by Jimmy Smith and showing mastery over the instrument within a year. At that point, in about 1963, he rented his organ to Brother Jack McDuff while McDuff was performing in Buffalo with alto saxophonist Lou Donaldson. McDuff let Smith sit in one night, catching the ear of Donaldson’s guitarist George Benson—who offered Smith a seat in the new band he was forming.

Smith moved to New York in 1965, still working with Benson. He recorded two albums with the guitarist for Columbia, and on the strength of those records made his own debut, Finger Lickin’ Good, in 1967. His breakthrough, however, came while freelancing at a Blue Note session with Donaldson that same year: Having finished their planned material, the band was a few minutes short of the 30-minute minimum for an LP, and filled it with an impromptu funk jam that they dubbed “Alligator Bogaloo.” It became a surprise hit, and Smith received a contract to record for Blue Note.

In 1969, Smith would have a surprise hit of his own with “Move Your Hand”—another off-the-cuff addition, this time to a live set in Atlantic City—but quickly found himself hemmed in by expectations of repetitive hits in the same mold. The hits never materialized, and Smith found financial security accompanying the likes of Marvin Gaye, Gladys Knight, and Etta James in between jazz dates that moved him into slick fusion and proto-disco territory. Finally disillusioned with the music business, Smith—with a few exceptions that were largely favors for friends—sat out the 1980s from active performance.

His career was resuscitated with the birth of acid jazz in London during the early ’90s, when Smith’s organ grooves became key sources for artists’ sampling. The same began occurring in the American hip-hop scene, with A Tribe Called Quest cribbing from his 1970 album Drives for their iconic single “Can I Kick It?” Now calling himself “Dr. Lonnie Smith,” the organist returned to jazz, this time determined to follow his own muse. This determination would define the remainder of his career, with Smith trying on multiple ideas and ensembles, including frequent work with saxophonist Javon Jackson, guitarist Peter Bernstein, and drummer Allison Miller before settling in the 2010s into a regular working trio with guitarist Jonathan Kreisberg and drummer Jamire Williams (later replaced by Johnathan Blake). His final recording, Breathe, featuring that trio along with percussionist Richard Bravo and Iggy Pop, was released in March of 2021.

A celebration of Smith’s life and

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Dr. Lonnie Smith, Master Of The Hammond Organ, Dies At 79

Dr. Lonnie Smith.

Frank De Blase/Blue Note Records

Dr. Lonnie Smith, an NEA Jazz Master known for his dynamism and wizardry on the Hammond B3 organ, died Tuesday. He was 79 years old.

His death was confirmed on Twitter by Blue Note Records. A spokesperson for the label said the cause of death was pulmonary fibrosis, a form of lung disease.

Smith was one of the most unique Hammond stylists to emerge from the golden era of 1960s organ ensembles, a scene that had its roots in Black American neighborhood venues. Early in his career, he was lauded for his work in guitarist George Benson's first quartet and subsequently for his involvement with saxophonist Lou Donaldson's groups.

Musically, Smith wove an other-worldly and soulful tapestry that joined relentlessly grooving bass lines with stirring melodies and harmonies. As a band leader and performer, Smith had a spirited and visceral performance style that allowed him to garner fans around the world.

Offstage, Smith was affable and engaging with a healthy sense of humor. At concerts, the turban and tunic clad organist would unassumingly stroll onto the stage with one of his signature canes and waste no time. Almost immediately, all four of Smith's limbs would begin dancing, almost magically, at the Hammond organ's console.



Smith was born in Lackawanna, N.Y., a suburb of Buffalo, on July 3, 1942. His mother introduced him to gospel, blues, jazz and early rhythm and blues. As a teenager in the 1950s, Smith began learning music by ear and played trumpet and other brass instruments in school. He also began singing at local venues throughout Buffalo in a doo wop group known as The Supremes, an ensemble that predated the award-winning Motown all-female group that followed.

After a brief stint in the Air Force, Smith returned home to Buffalo in the early 1960s, at which point he began listening closely to Blue Note star organist Jimmy Smith. The pull to become a musician became stronger, but he had not decided on an instrument. Around that same time, he began frequenting a music store owned by local accordion player Art Kubera, who would have a catalyzing effect on Smith's career.

"One day the owner [Kubera] said 'Son, why do you sit here every day until closing time?'" Smith recalled in conversation with the National Endowment for The Arts. "I told him, 'Sir, if I had an instrument I could work, and if I could work, I could make a living.' One day I went there, and he closed the place. We went to his house in the back, and there was a brand-new Hammond organ. He told me, 'If you can get this out of here, then it's yours.' It was snowing in Buffalo, but I did. Art was my angel."

After a neighbor taught him how to power up the organ and navigate its stops and drawbars, Smith began playing and his growth on the instrument was uncannily rapid. Barely a year into his development, he began playing in house bands in the Midwest, New York City and in Buffalo. Many of the groups Smith performed in were backing bands for soul singers and instrumentalists on the touring circuit. In 1964, Smith broke onto the international jazz scene when organist Jack McDuff's young guitarist, George Benson, resigned his position and formed a group of his own. Benson secured Smith for the organ chair in his new quartet. After their residencies at Harlem's Palm Cafe and Minton's Playhouse that same year, both Benson and Smith were signed by Columbia Records and made albums as leaders. They established a new style that joined blistering bebop with new rhythm and blues. The music was danceable, yet it contained the language of the jazz tradition. When saxophonist Lou Donaldson hired Smith and Benson for 1967's Blue Note smash Alligator Boogaloo, the result was a surprise jukebox hit whose title track landed on the Billboard Hot 100 chart.

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This success set the stage for Smith to be signed by Blue Note as a band leader in 1968. Within two years, the organist cut five albums for the label. He earned honors as Downbeat's "Top Jazz Organist" and his albums Think (1968) and Drives (1970) both earned spots on Billboard's R&B albums chart.

Smith left Blue Note records in 1971 and recorded albums for producers Creed Taylor and Sonny Lester off and on during the 1970s. He began to fade from the spotlight as the sound of popular music changed and Hammond organ-based music waned in popularity. During this time, he began to don his signature turbans. Though not explicitly religious, he wore them as a symbol of universal spirituality, love and respect. Smith also adopted the moniker "Dr." not as an indication of formal training, but to highlight his ability to serve as a unique practitioner of the music. (It also helped to create a distinction between him and fellow keyboardist Lonnie Liston Smith.) He worked briefly with Marvin Gaye, reconnected with George Benson and, by the mid 1980s, he rekindled his unique brand of swing on the Hammond organ with guitarists Richie Hart, Jimmy Ponder and Melvin Sparks, vocalist Etta James and drummer Alvin Queen.

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By the 1990s, the groove-based acid jazz movement broke out in London, England, and in the United States, hip-hop rejuvenated the beat-driven jazz of the late 1960s and early 1970s through sampling. As a result, Smith was again in demand as a featured guest artist and as a leader. He released a string of four critically acclaimed albums for Palmetto Records in the early 2000s that paired him with guitarists Peter Bernstein and Jonathan Kriesberg and drummers Gregory Hutchinson, Allison Miller, Herlin Riley and Jamire Williams.

Smith self-released two fiery albums in 2013 and 2014 before returning to the Blue Note fold in 2016. Over the next year, Smith was named as an NEA Jazz Master and made notable, cross-genre collaborations with Norah Jones and The Roots. Smith's final albums, All In My Mind and Breathe, were released in 2018 and 2021, respectively, and featured studio collaborations with Iggy Pop, along with magical in-concert explorations with his working band of Kriesberg, drummers Johnathan Blake or Joe Dyson, and horns.

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In Memoriam: Dr. Lonnie Smith, 1942–2021

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“When I go up on that stand, the only thing I’m thinking of is music.” —Dr. Lonnie Smith

(Photo: Courtesy Blue Note Records)

Dr. Lonnie Smith, one of the greatest musicians to ever touch the Hammond B-3 organ, died Sept. 28 at home in Ft. Lauderdale, Florida. He was 79 years old.

His death was confirmed by his manager Holly Case. The cause was pulmonary fibrosis.

“Doc was a musical genius who possessed a deep, funky groove and a wry, playful spirit,” said Don Was, president of Blue Note Records, the jazz label for which Smith recorded many of his masterworks. “His mastery of the drawbars was equaled only by the warmth in his heart. He was a beautiful guy and all of us at Blue Note Records loved him a lot.”

Smith made his name on Blue Note in the late 1960s and returned home to the label in 2016. He was born in Buffalo, New York, on July 3, 1942. His mother sparked a love of gospel, blues and jazz in Smith. As a teenager he was introduced to the Hammond organ and began immersing himself in the records of Wild Bill Davis, Bill Doggett and Jimmy Smith, as well as paying attention to the church organ.

Smith’s first gigs were at the Pine Grill, a Buffalo club where he came to the attention of Lou Donaldson, Jack McDuff and George Benson, eventually joining Benson’s quartet and moving to New York City.

After appearing on Benson’s albums It’s Uptown and The George Benson Cookbook, Smith released his debut, Finger Lickin’ Good, for Columbia. He then joined Donaldson’s band and made his first Blue Note appearance on the saxophonist’s hit 1967 album Alligator Boogaloo. Two more Donaldson dates followed (Mr. Shing-A-Ling and Midnight Creeper) before Smith was offered his own Blue Note deal. He made his label debut in 1968 with Think!, produced by Blue Note co-founder Francis Wolff.

Smith went on to record another four Blue Note albums over the next two years: Turning Point, Move Your Hand, Drives and Live At Club Mozambique, all regarded as soul-jazz classics.

After his first run of Blue Note albums, Smith recorded for many labels, including Groove Merchant, Palmetto and his own label, Pilgrimage. His wide-ranging musical tastes found him covering everyone from John Coltrane to Jimi Hendrix to Beck. Many awards have followed since 1969, when a DownBeat poll named Smith Organist of the Year, including honors from the Jazz Journalists Association and Buffalo Music Hall of Fame. Smith was named an NEA Jazz Master in 2017.

“I always sang,” Smith said in a March 2008 cover article for DownBeat. “My family sang spiritual music at home, and before I went into the service, I’d sung in churches. Then we had a four-part harmony singing group called the Supremes, which we changed to the Teen Kings. A disk jockey named Lucky Pierre managed us, and we made a record. But I always loved to play musical instruments. The first time I touched a piano, I’d just graduated to third grade, and I went to visit my aunt. I got up to the piano and figured out how to play ‘Crying In The Chapel.’

“I never had a piano, but I learned a little about the keyboard by fooling around,” he con­tinued. “I knew some boogie-woogie, and nat­ural things like that. My mother and I used to scat to instrumental songs, and I played trum­pet and tuba in high school, but I’d play piano in the school auditorium, or at someone’s house, like Grover Washington, who I grew up with. I’d play songs by Fats Domino or Little Richard — what they played had a lot of feeling, and wasn’t so complex that you couldn’t understand what they were doing. A friend played me Jimmy Smith’s Midnight Special record, and I heard Wild Bill Davis, Bill Doggett and Milt Buckner, too. My brothers played bass, guitar and drums, and on the jobs I’d sing a few songs, then sit on the side while they kept playing. I wanted to get up there so bad! It looked like they were having too much fun. I borrowed a Wurlitzer. I’d play a couple of songs, and I’d be happy.”

Earlier this year, Smith released his final album, Breathe, a dynamic eight-song set, six tracks of which were recorded during Smith’s 75th birthday celebration at the Jazz Standard in New York in 2017 with his steady trio of guitarist Jonathan Kreisberg and drummer Johnathan Blake, as well as an expanded septet featuring John Ellis on tenor saxophone, Jason Marshall on baritone saxophone, Sean Jones on trumpet and Robin Eubanks on trombone, plus guest vocalist Alicia Olatuja.

“I have so much passion,” Smith told DownBeat writer Ted Panken in 2008. “I had an algebra teacher who got real involved, and would shout, ‘Yeah, that’s it!’ and start writing out the answer. That’s how I feel when I’m playing, so enthused and so happy. I’m pleasing myself first, and you’re next. The Hammond is such a warm sound — the feel of the earth, the sun, the moon, the water — and it matches so well with the Leslie. The horn that goes around inside the Leslie moves slow and fast — when you close the switch on it, it’s like a nasal sound; when you open the switch, it’s like the earth opened. Later, I’m out of breath, I don’t want to talk, I don’t want to do nothin’, I just want to go home and relax. It’s so pleasant, unless somebody pisses you off on the stage. Sure, sometimes people you play with don’t match too good. But 99% of the time I’m having a ball.”

Part of the joy that Smith brought was from his soulful music, but another part was from his electrifying persona. Often asked about how he became a “doctor” and why he wore his trademark turban, Smith offered a beautiful response.

“I know you were trying to get to it,” he said, mildly amused. “You got it. Sun Ra had a miner’s cap, and Sonny Rollins had the mohawk hairdo. But I’m a doctor of music. I’ve been playing long enough to operate on it, and I do have a degree, and I will operate on you. I’m a neurosurgeon. If you need something done to you, I can do it. But when I go up on that stand, the only thing I’m thinking of is music. I’m thinking to touch you with that music. I don’t think about the turban, I don’t think about the doctor — I just think about how I’m going to touch you.” DB

Editor’s Note: This obituary was assembled by DownBeat staff based on information submitted by Blue Note Records.

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