From the days when Ella was Queen

Press, 2 May 1984, Page 12

From the days when Ella was Queen

By

ALLAN FRANCIS

ELLA FITZGERALD. The Rodgers and Hart and Duke Ellington Song Books. Two record sets from VERVE 2610 044 and 2610 057 respectively.

Perhaps I was hasty in commending Ella Fitzgerald’s album, “Bewitched,” as being the only one to have, for no sooner had the ink dried on this rash statement when these two sets came to hand and the force of the argument was shattered.

Recorded about the same time as “Betwitched” and indeed containing that track plus others, these two sets admirably displayed much more of the very best of the singer’s prolific output. It was variable too, as most admirers of Miss Fitzgerald would be the first to concede, yet here we are greeted with two wonderful programmes from the days when she sang "straight.” It is coincidental that the price is equally congenial.

Whatever or whoever persuaded Miss Fitzgerald to alter many good tunes — a feat she was ill-qualified to do — should not have been allowed, for it marked the end of a long reign as the Queen of Song. Her scat singing also became something of a bore in the 19705, so that many of her recordings from this latter era from the Granz stable exceeded my listening span and some were never heard at all. Gone too, was the best of her breath control and in some

cases she was heard to take a gulp of oxygen in the middle of a line. This is certainly not the case in either of the albums under review. Recorded in 1956 and 1957 respectively, she sails supreme through the Rodgers and Hart songbook on the crest of the Buddy Bregman wave of sound.

With 34 numbers to play with, Miss Fitzgerald gives ample proof of her superb style and technique where no amount of scat can possibly compete. It also is the trademark of a true artist to sing these excellent songs as they were written, for how many singers does one know whho better the polished work of accomplished song-writers such as Rodgers and Hart? Whereas Buddy Bregman is merely the vehicle for Ella’s vocal prowess, Ellington was no musician to play second fiddle to anyone, let alone a singer. Ellington was reputed to change his singers with remarkable frequency and the only one to make any sort of a stand was Ivie Anderson. Although his lyric writing collaborators included John LaTouche, Johnny Mercer, Peggy Lee and Mitchell Parish, often Ellington’s songs were poorly served by inferior lyrics. This would explain the frequency of so many of the numbers played but seldom sung, as witness the ones on the review set, “Day Dream,” “Caravan,” “Rockin’ in Rhythm,” “I Got it Bad and That Ain’t Good,” or “Perdido.”

To make her point, Miss Fitzgerald is forced into dramatic effects to get above the overpowering force of the Ellington band. Hence the presence of devious devices which may not please all her more orthodox fans apart from myself.

The contrast between the two albums is quite startling; where one is so gently wooed into the unified brilliance of “Manhattan,” the second is more of a struggle for survival. Ellington concedes little in the way of arrangements and the singer has to plough her way through his complicated orchestral techniques the best way she can. It is small wonder that singers were so dispensable. As a reward for bravery in action though, the Duke paid a splendid tribute by way of a four-movement “Portrait of Ella Fitzgerald” in which the Duke made “suitable comments,” plus a footnote with “The E and D Blues” to mark the collaboration. Ella went on to make a further set after this one, and yet again “At Duke’s Place” and “At the Cote D’Azur,” all with the same band. Such perseverance should not be treated, lightly, nor should either of these remarkable albums be discarded on the grounds of age alone.

Difficult though it may be to pinpoint the “golden age” of either artist here, there is no problem in being able to recommend without qualification the quality of the performances.