February 2001

Philly Jazz
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By Jan Klincewicz

With this being the year 2000, doorstep to the 21st Century, dawn of a new millennium etc., the idea of time capsules has captivated many imaginations. A selection of artifacts that represent our era for posterity reveals a lot about who we are. Looking forward, we can imagine what our choices will mean to our grandchildren’s children when they wonder what life was like in the 20th Century.

The importance of capturing not just time but also place cannot be over-emphasized. The ability to surgically isolate and illustrate a small corner of our universe (say for example, Third and Poplar, Philadelphia, Pennsylvania, U.S.A.) over the course of the last year of the 20th Century can certainly be viewed as a challenge. Bassist Mike Boone and trumpeter Roger Prieto dreamed up this very idea. They enlisted the aid of recording engineer David Stoller with the goal of capturing history.

In a less-than-upscale Philadelphia neighborhood stands a very unpretentious bar, popularly known as “Ortlieb’s” after the defunct brewery whose real estate it occupies. In fact, to call this establishment unpretentious is to be exceedingly polite. Technically, its full name is Ortlieb’s Jazz Haus, and it is jazz that distinguishes this establishment from the thousands of long narrow gin joints that dot the Philadelphia landscape. Ortlieb’s Jazz Haus became a legend the day it opened, and its reputation has only grown. Certainly, among Philadelphia-based musicians for whom this bar serves as training academy, revenue source, and networking hub, Ortlieb’s is home.

Perversely, we can thank the downsizing craze of the late 1980s for the club’s existence. Owner Pete Souders was slaving as a programmer for the Sun Oil Company. When they scaled back their workforce, and gave Pete his “package,’’ there was little question as to what career path he might take. Taking advantage of the company’s generous re-education program, Pete enrolled in the prestigious Philadelphia College for the Performing Arts. Blessed with a photographic memory, he quickly absorbed the repertoire of tunes and licks necessary to start making the rounds of Philly’s jazz bars, in particular Gert’s. While subbing at this colorful B-3 bar, Pete heard rumors of its inevitable sale and closing. When the new owner made it clear that it would not be re-incarnated as a jazz club, Pete began a real-estate search that eventually led to the space Ortlieb’s Jazz Haus now occupies.

Lacking any formal training in the food-and-beverage industry, Pete and his wife Margaret rolled up their sleeves and jumped right in. For the first week, Pete hired schoolmates. Knowing he would soon need to furnish a more experienced rhythm section to please the sophisticated Philadelphia audience, he sought the advice of one Fred Miles, a peripatetic hipster who eked out a living with a small jazz newsletter. Fred (who in bygone years had recorded notables as Clifford Brown and Zoot Simms) suggested Pete call Shirley Scott and place her in the piano chair. The thought of calling a legend like Shirley at first intimidated the novice club owner. Imagine his surprise when she not only accepted, but also showed up with bass ace Benny Nelson and drummer Bobby Durham (on leave from Oscar Peterson’s trio). When Bobby went back on tour with O.P. a few weeks later, Shirley appeared with a grin (and Dizzy Gillespie’s lifelong percussionist Mickey Roker in tow). This trio (often with Arthur Harper on bass) formed the nucleus of the Ortlieb’s Haus band for years. In between management duties, Pete often could be seen playing on his own stage with the Haus band, and occasionally in good-natured “tenor battles” with Bootsie Barnes and Larry McKenna. Pete plays every tune as though it were the last time he might play it (and with his impressive repertoire, it just might be).

With these auspicious beginnings, the Jazz Haus quickly gained a reputation as the place to be heard. To deal with the legions of would-be (and some day really would-be) jazz stars, Pete instituted a fair but firm pecking order. Tuesday nights were open to all. If you showed promise, you were asked back for a second tune. If not, you were politely thanked, introduced, applauded, and sent back to the woodshed before you knew what was happening. On Thursdays, sitting-in was allowed the last set, but only for established artists. Naturally, showing up with your axe was a good way to find out whether or not you were an established artist.

The importance of Philadelphia as a jazz incubator cannot be overlooked. There is no point in reprinting the “canonical list” of Philly’s contribution to the development of the music. Suffice it to say that from the Swing Era through whatever’s happening tomorrow, players from the Philadelphia area have been at the forefront in every step in jazz’s evolution. Most of the world associates the town with the soulful yet complex idiom known as “hard bop.” Often, Art Blakey’s Jazz Messengers units and legendary Miles Davis rhythm sections were comprised entirely of Philadelphia-based artists. But men and women from the City of Brotherly Love are widely known in broad music circles for their abilities to read, arrange, and play in a wide variety of styles.

Of course Philly’s jazz scene is not limited to hard bop. One Sunday a month, traditionalists can delight to authentic New Orleans and Chicago sounds of the Independence Hall Jazz Band. Their repertoire ranges from raucous dixieland to sophisticated Jelly Roll Morton arrangements. You won’t hear anything more authentic on Bourbon St. Award winning saxophonist Bobby Zankel fills in the other side of the spectrum with creative forays that nod to bop roots, while accommodating those with more “outside” tastes.

The now-established players who worked their way up through the Ortlieb’s ranks are well known throughout the world (and more are becoming so each day).

Duane Eubanks, of the illustrious family that includes trombonist Robin, and guitarist Kevin (of Tonight Show fame), is another recent New Yorker who came up through the Ortlieb’s ranks. “For me this is where I developed my sound,” says Duane. “I owe a lot to Bootsie Barnes. Without him I’d be nothing. He’s always got charts that kept my reading chops together, which helps me in New York.’’

Barnes, whose machine-gun like attack on tenor makes him instantly recognizable, has played at Ortlieb’s since the beginning. For over five years his organ trio has held down Wednesday nights (young keyboard man Kyle Koehler is one to watch, and so is drummer Byron Landham!), and he usually has a quintet or sextet one weekend a month. On free nights, he’s probably there again, freely offering encouragement, advice and tunes to the young musicians who are learning their craft. Legions of young musicians have earned degrees from the “College of Bootsie Barnes,” a phrase coined by pianist New York’s Uri Caine. “Thank God,” he says of Pete, “that we’ve got a club owner who loves jazz, (who) loves to play (and who) you can talk changes to, talk tunes to. He lets the club be a training ground, and there’s no other place in Philly that lets you try out new stuff any night. That’s why you’ll see me there whether I’m working or not.”

Caine recalls, “Ortlieb’s in Philadelphia gave me the chance to play on a consistent basis with a lot of great musicians. Four nights in a row with the likes of Mickey Roker, Bobby Durham, Arthur Harper and Mike Boone allowed me to develop my own way of playing, and was a lot of fun too!”

Criss-Cross recording artists John Swana, who is frequently seen reading down the hard charts next to Bootsie, is one of the best trumpet players on the planet. When New York players land in Philly, John is one of the cats that scare them. Says N.Y. trumpeter Joe Magnarelli, who can play with his tongue in his cheek: “I hate him. He plays too fucking good, and I hope he stays in Philly his whole life.” On a more serious note, he declares: “John Swana is probably the leader among my peers. He plays melodically, with a beautiful tone, but he’s also on the leading edge of rhythmic and harmonic concepts. In a fairer world, he’d be a bigger star. But I still hate his guts,’’ he says with a wide grin.

Joe’s telling a simple truth. Philly musicians are not appreciated in their own town. It’s not until they leave (like Fareid Barron, a recent regular pianist at Ortlieb’s who just went with Wynton Marsalis) that their names get known. After that, they rarely come back to play. No clubs in Philly really pay the big names. But it’s a sure bet that when they’re in town they’ll sit for a set at Ortlieb’s.

Of course, no club run this way is without its financial hardships. Pete Souders has cashed in IRA’s and sold his own horns to make payroll during hard times. Keeping kitchen staff is costly (but I’ve been told by long-time natives of New Orleans that his kitchen serves up better Jambalaya). Paying musicians a living wage, and keeping a parking-lot attendant on the payroll (remember, this neighborhood isn’t the high-rent district) takes its toll. But Pete manages to economize in other ways. Ortlieb’s has remained utterly unchanged since 1987. Maybe the bathroom’s been swept out once or twice, but this is a no-frills jazz club, and don’t expect a rest-room attendant to offer you a paper towel for a buck.

As Mike Boone would be quick to point out, this is not a club where pretense is practiced. “Once, at the end of a session,” he relates, “a bunch of unknown young kids got on the stand to take their shot. A few journeymen pianists who had played earlier declined. But Uri Caine, who by then had achieved quite a bit of fame in both the jazz and classical worlds stepped up, and finished the night with them. It made the kids feel good. It made Uri feel good. Hell, it made everybody feel good”.

Mike, who co-produced this release, comes from New York. He’s been through Eastman and the Buddy Rich band, and although he’d learned a great deal about time from those experiences, he contends that his development in Philadelphia playing with Roker, Durham, Scott and Billy James have taught him a lot about feeling, history and life. Known locally as the “man of a thousand sessions,” he is now more or less the “staff bassist” at Ortlieb’s. With Sid Simmons and Byron Landham in the Haus Band, Tuesday night sitters-in are assured a Philly rhythm section to kick their butts.

Pianist Sid Simmons has recorded with Grover Washington Jr., Valery Ponamerov and many others. He is a sensitive accompanist, and a soloist to be reckoned with. When his fingers are spread fully, they can span all 88 keys of the piano and leave room for his pinky to grasp a snifter of Courvoisier. Sid develops motifs that insinuate themselves into choruses in most surprising ways. Simmons switches effortlessly from sinuous melodies to immense block chords and back. He can (and does) make any soloist or singer feel good on stage. Byron Landham, who completes the Haus Band, is a drummer in great demand, so he’s frequently on the road. B3 monster Joey DeFrancesco has been calling Byron for 10 years now, and he can be heard on several recordings. Pianist/singer Betty “Bebop” Carter also has relied upon his taste and talent. Landham and his brother Robert, a first-call saxophonist, recently released a CD entitled “At Last,” which has achieved critical acclaim. We miss him when he’s on the road, but are always happy (and grateful) to welcome him back. One of these days, those road trips are going to end up longer and longer, but Philly has a way of filling shoes from within the ranks. It’s an oft-repeated cycle.

Roger Prieto, the reserved trumpeter who co-produced this project with Mike Boone, is another instrumentalist who “grew up” in the Jazz Haus. Many years ago, he stood among the novices, waiting their turn at the stage. He paid his dues, and the lion’s share was spent at Ortlieb’s. It took many years of sessions (and lessons) until Roger emerged as a stylist worthy of headlining at Ortlieb’s with his own tight group. After standing in his shadow for years, Prieto now can call up Bootsie Barnes to be a sideman -- and Bootsie will proudly accept. Prieto may not use all his considerable chops in every tune he plays, but this underscores his maturity. His solos are sensitive, thought out, and without waste. His oh-so-sleazy half-valve effects keep the salty memory of Lee Morgan burning in all our memories.

Shirley Scott is best known as a virtuoso of the Hammond organ. Although she hasn’t recorded as much on piano, the Steinway grand was her instrument of choice at the Jazz Haus during her tenure at the bench. Shirley (who as of this writing is suffering health problems which prevent her playing publicly) was a serious teacher both on stage and at Cheyney University. In addition to the incalculable volumes of jazz history she stores, her knowledge of theory, harmony and their practical application have enlightened countless players, both young and older. Her son Doug (Ducky) often can be found on the Ortlieb’s stage deftly caressing the traps. His left-handed setup has saved many a session from lesser percussionists who otherwise might have asked to sit in.

When discussions turn to Mickey Roker, every drummer in Philly gives a knowing nod. A consummate gentleman with unusually modest habits, Mickey is a role model for all musicians. At an age when many are enjoying a sedentary retirement, Mickey’s muscular limbs are knocking out subtle polyrhythms behind players young enough to be his grandchildren. He’s such a musical drummer that soloists can depend on him to outline a tune’s structure.

Mickey has taught lessons to many Philadelphia drummers. Billy James, Byron Landham and Rodney Green are just a few of the phenomenal percussionists this city has contributed who owe a debt to Mickey’s vast experience and fatherly demeanor.

Jimmy Oliver (sometimes known as the Badman) was there when Bop was invented. Although his exact age is a mystery, when watching the diminutive tenor man mount a stage, most folks are surprised to see him lift the instrument. After hearing the musical history that pours forth from the bell, you can understand why he says, “I like to think that I laid the tracks for the ‘Trane.’ ” Jimmy was just one of the local cats who mesmerized youngsters like Jimmy Heath, Benny Golson, and Hank Mobley.

Larry McKenna is another tenor man who deserves wider recognition. Having honed his skills in the big bands, Larry is a seasoned professional. But all that experience aside, his solos are triumphs of melodic imagination that rival fellow Philadelphian Stan Getz. Larry usually sounds like a “cool school” player, swinging with an easy grace and enviable subtlety. When he gets on stage with Pete Sounders and Bootsie, a not-so-subtle change takes place. Even though Ortlieb’s “tenor battles” are not cutting contests, friendly competition heats up everyone’s spirit. The results bring down the Haus.

A regular patron of Ortlieb’s Jazz Haus can almost tell the passage of time by the new jazz stars who graduate to the “big time.” Rodney Green, now filling the drum chair with fellow Philadelphian bassist Christian McBride says, “Without Ortlieb’s, I wouldn’t have half the vocabulary I have. I wouldn’t have met Bootsie Barnes, Rob Landham, Mike Boone, Sid Simmons, Shirley Scott…and have the notion that I could play drums for a living. It was just something I did until I came here, and interacted with people where that’s all they did -- no day gig. So it definitely gave me the confidence that it could be done.” The experience he gained with Bootsie, Sid, Mike and Pete prepared him for the trek north to the Apple. Says Rodney: “It’s the same shit on a different scale -- the same shit you learn at Ortlieb’s”.

This is one club where you can sit back for a minimal cover (or for free on most weekdays) and just watch the jazz superstars of tomorrow develop. Duane Eubanks opines: “Five dollars is nothing. Everybody ought to have five bucks if they’re goin’ out!”

Pianist Orrin Evans immediately comes to mind as the “next big thing” to come out of Philly. Having begun his apprenticeship at Ortlieb’s after his father introduced him to the club, Orrin learned a lot by accompanying vocalists. “I was only lucky enough to do one gig with Evelyn Simms, but hey .. you talk about getting your ass kicked. You need to do a gig with Evelyn Simms.”

A young pianist is indeed fortunate to find himself on stage with Evelyn. Usually the experienced fingers of the world-renowned Sam Dockery are feeding the changes to this hip, powerful vocalist. Evelyn came up with the Heath Brothers, Benny Golson, Lee Morgan and folks like that. Both Dizzy Gillespie and Count Basie tempted her to go with their respective big bands (either of which she would have complemented), but she was pregnant each time. Fate yet again denied the world a treasure (or perhaps just guarded one jealously for fortunate Philadelphians). We are happy to have her still among us. To hear her perform with Dockery is to delight in a bit of rare history.

So how does one explain Ortlieb’s Jazz Haus to another who’s never had the pleasure of visiting? Is it a smoky jazz dive? Yes. Is it a great dining experience? Yes, but only if you have a cardiologist on retainer. Is it a school? In the purest Platonic sense, it is. This CD provides exposure to a lot of great players; Unfortunately, a CD’s liner notes don’t provide space to pay tribute to them all. Suffice it to say that these are Philadelphia’s best and that their music speaks much louder than any words. Listen closely and you’ll hear the future of jazz.

Into a boiling cauldron of Jambalaya that feeds all, Ortlieb’s Jazz Haus tosses the very young and very old, those black and white, some rich and the rest poorer, some obscenely talented and others somewhat less so. A thousand Congressional committees with unlimited budgets could not create Ortlieb’s Jazz Haus. Pete Souders and his wife Margaret, along with an unlikely family of overworked, under-compensated artists and an enthusiastic staff of cooks, wait staff, bartenders and parking-lot attendants make Ortleib’s what it is. Perhaps Orrin Evans puts it best.