His manic Xpression s’touchin’ my soul. Jon Hendricks kids… the Poppity-Pop of scat and vocalese, really duz. (Well, Eddie Jefferson and King Pleasure may have started it, but…) What would a jazz vocalist who hates 2 scat do without Hendricks? And his most excellent sense of humor.
Hendricks parlays scat — par none and bar none – and blesses those without wit, 2. I mean, u know — the hapless hip — those sans loose lips and verbal flips. D’jazz expressionistas wit nothing to convey — they get 2 let a little Hendricks ARTiculate and portray what Trane and Monk might’ve thunk but did not orate. Translator of true tone to the tip ‘o the tongue with livin’ large laryngeal folds — I must say — Gabba Gabblase it ain’t! And vocalists jes don’t play no way near this swingin’ cat wearin’ 2 hats wit a way of layin’ down a tune non-pareleil.
TIME (the definitive metro tome) said — Jon Hendricks — with Lambert ’n Ross — iz d’ James Joyce of Jazz . LAMBERT, HENDRICKS and ROSS — L/H/ and R’s, “Sing a Song of Basie” and their tell-tale tail o’ “Cottontail” out hops the hip-hoppin’ hare raisin’ arrangements of Ellington. “Cloudburst “will never fail to reign amusement over every listener. One and all, profusely punctuated punctual performances by the 3 Wizards of Whoa, man! Dave, Jon and Annie. Twisted (you might know Joni Mitchell’s version). Done said.
I jest not — the chestnuts of jazz done dominated by the man dat played dem wit poetry — Hendricks. YOU can’t get no more oooouuuuuuuuuuuut than L, H, and R. No sax need access when these 3 played a capella da capo and cor — yes, heart — ya gotta have it when you hark ‘n herald the synopsis of a song from your synapses. These people are meters beyond the rule of thumbs up. Adjust your standards. Every bar gets raised in their routinely frazzling, phrase-turned, sense-sationally stimulating performances. My ayiiis get why-ed and my eeeers get BIG whenever I hear these most excellently executed tributes to the original composers.
How come they’re not here abouts more in the public ear? These guys and gal are nowhere near heard as much as they should be. I’m just sayin’, see? Whose clay feet gonna fill their shooze? Shoot, maybe a full on, real jazz ensemble with a tight rhythm section (in heels and evening gloves) … NOT EVEN. These iz hoomin’ be’inz! (Jazz players don’t normally check that box – JEST KIDDING – gnot — I should gno. ) Vocal chords and fluid movement of the larynx produce these amazing grace notes. Reed my lips! No body can out scat, prattle, or reprise the verbalizing edge off a jazz melody like these 3 (well, Ella, maybe coulda – but there was only one of her).
SWEAR — word up. Vocalese. It’s rap to an already arranged tune — tunes done by Miles or any of the major hitting outstanding improvisers and completely composed composer – not EZ — geeez — O — pleeze. Take a tune for every beat, every tone (not every body can) — substitute a syllable — you think rap taps the poet? Ah, Eh…I…Oh, NO WAY — Not as slammin’ azz jazz vocalese, where lyrical soloists of the ilk extraordinaire broach the gap between the instrument and the instrumental vocalist. And, speaking in tongues –- ya know, Bobby McFerrin wouldn’t’ve been-boppin befreft of Lambert, Hendricks, and Ross…and no jazz vocalist woulda been able to “Ruby My Dear” without the man behind the story, hear? Jon Hendricks — wit his ear for gems — lyricist to the melodically challenging and with d’saxiest vocal stylist around — still. He and Ross might be up in age, but they are still up to their ‘ol trix. Hendricks – Jazz Master J — is teaching at the University of Toledo, OH and Ms. Annie is singin’ at the Metropolitan Room in Manhattan (check her out on w/ the Low Note Quintet and Iggy Pop and Michael Stipe on the soundtrack of “Short Cuts” – not vintage Annie, but good 2 see her hangin’) — still dazzlin’ wit their verbratto and verbellious phrasing (Lambert departed the planet too soon, unfortunately). You jes don’t get glosslalia till you check ouuuuuut L/H and R and, mostest-specially Mr. Hendricks’ gloriously noisy lyrics. Take my word… dis iz faux d’REAL vocalistas, hermanas y hermanos simpaticos! LHR. OMG.
Go pay tribute…
TUESDAY DECEMBER 21, 2010 — Annie Ross
@ the Metropolitan Room 34 West 22nd St. NY, NYC
Poppity Pop Goes The Motorcycle
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Cloudburst