Back in the 1940’s, the jazz world, like the rest of the world, was in some
turmoil. The end of World War II saw what were, in effect, the end of the
big band era and the emergence of “bebop” or just “bop.” When the big bands
were no longer economically viable, even when they turned to being
bop-centered, they tended to shrink to small group size. At the same time,
“dixieland” (or as some preferred to call it “traditional” jazz), began to
enjoy a revival, and these two camps engaged in confrontation between
“modernists” and “revivalists,” a battle that raged on for the rest of the
forties and beyond.
In the midst of all of this, in 1949 a completely new sound emerged by a
quintet led by George Shearing—piano, guitar, vibes, bass, and drums
playing the melody in unison by the piano, vibes, and guitar. Drums
featured quiet brushwork on snare and cymbals, and bass was played four to
the measure. (Unfortunately, no video clip of the original quintet—Margie
Hyams (vibes), Chuck Wayne, replaced later by Toots Thielemans (guitar),
John Levy (bass), and Denzil Bst (drums) is included, or possibly even
exists, but it was trail blazing.) There is, as one can hear, a gentleness
to the sound, almost an ethereal quality, and there is space left for
improvisations. Indeed, one could actually hum or whistle the melody,
unlike in most bebop tunes. The sound caught on, so that by the end of the
forties Shearing, not an unknown quantity in the U.K., became even better
known, perhaps, in the U.S., to which he had emigrated in 1947.
This “sound” was one Shearing, as he says in this documentary, had
sought—one which, unlike most modern jazz which seemed to require a code to
appreciate, allowed anyone to access. He goes on to analyze his
participation in creating the sound, his so-called “locked-hands” style,
with one of his best known pieces of 1949: “September in the Rain.” Then
follows a scintillating demonstration of different styles that his best
known composition, “Lullaby of Birdland,” lends itself to—the piece as it
might have been if composed and played by Bach, Earl Garner, even Chopin.
He also discusses his love of Latin music and its complicated rhythms and
cross rhythms with “Cuban Fantasy.” All of this is a fitting preamble to
his discussion of how limiting the quintet became for him after some
twenty-nine years of it. He was starting to play on “autopilot,” which he
found utterly bored him. He wanted freshness, an escape, a freedom to
explore, and not to be boxed in. What follows is a superb demonstration of
“Night and Day” played in the style of Beethoven.
As well as the musical content, we also get a glimpse of the personal side
with his second wife, Ellie Geffert, a
classical singer, and learn how they—or at least she—remembers the
start of their relationship. We see the two of them taking walks together
or pedaling along on a tandem in England, to which he repaired each
fall—one can take the boy out of the country, but not the country out of
the boy. While he became a U.S. citizen, he never became an American; yet
he did receive recognition for his artistic contribution from his patria, a
year or two after the making of this documentary film, in the form of an
OBE award in 1996 and a knighthood in 2007.
Born blind in 1919 in Battersea, London, into a totally non-musical working
class family—his mother a train cleaner, his father a coalman—Shearing was
from the start fascinated by sound. After his mother bought an old piano,
the die was cast. From playing in a London pub to playing at Carnegie Hall,
Shearing did it all before dying of heart failure at the age of 91 in New
York. In the short space of 50 mins., this film helps one understand how
this remarkable genius made that journey.
Bert Thompson