ROANOKE TIMES
Copyright (c) 1996, Roanoke Times
DATE: Wednesday, April 3, 1996 TAG: 9604030072
SECTION: EXTRA PAGE: 1 EDITION: METRO
COLUMN: Off the Clock
SOURCE: CHRIS HENSON
The jazz jam is kind of like going to church. It's a ceremony most of the participants know by heart. There's a long list of standard jazz tunes that any decent group of musicians can play without even rehearsing. And there's a hymnal, of sorts, to refer to when memory fails.
All a jazz jam needs is a drummer, a bass player, someone playing the chords and a horn or voice to carry the melody. Everything comes together between the leader counting off "one, two, three, four" and that first note. The spark of inspiration set off in that moment can make your whole evening.
Like a good tent revival, a jazz jam needs an enthusiastic congregation. That's where you come in, Dear Reader. Big notes are gonna be flying tonight at Mr. B's Lounge at the Days Inn just off the Hollins exit of I-81. And you're invited.
In fact, the open jazz jam happens there every Wednesday night, starting at 8 p.m. and ending whenever. If you're coming to listen you're in for a real treat. If you want to play along, bring your axe and your hymnal.
For many decades, the business of jazz was conducted from what was called a "fake book." This was a notebook filled with music paper upon which was scrawled the melodies and chords of some of the most popular songs of all time. With this collection, literate musicians could "fake" their way through several hundred tunes, and get paid for it.
Fake books were an underground item, sold out of Studebaker trunks, and highly illegal as infringements of copyright law because composers received no royalties on the music. In the '50s and '60s, possession of a fake book was a finable, federal offense. People did time for selling them.
The advent of the photocopier made the books easier to produce and harder to trace. Ultimately, the powers that be realized the fake books were no longer policeable. This was about the same time that many musicians decided that the books circulating were inaccurate and often unreadable.
So, a little over a decade ago, a team of editors collected tunes, copied them legibly and produced what is called "The Real Book." It's standardized, mass-produced and basically legal. The bound volume contains nearly 500 songs. And no jazz musician is without one.
Bob Macklin figures he's been playing music for nearly 50 years. In 1959 and 1960 he played trumpet with Lionel Hampton's Big Band in New York. He came back home to Roanoke to sell insurance, play his horn free-lance on the side and be with his wife and kids. "Your family's got to come first," Macklin says. "I loved gigging like that, but road life is hard, you know."
When Macklin plays his trumpet, the sound is confident and cool, each tone hammered out with soul and love. Last Wednesday his band, "Just Friends II," was in great form plowing through tunes like "Satin Doll," No. 367 in your book, "Green Dolphin Street," No. 179, and "Stella By Starlight," No. 408.
The core band was an able choir to Macklin's jazz sermon. Tony Haworth, house pianist for the Hotel Roanoke, was on hand to hold down the chords and take a solo or two. Bob Peckman, an engineer with ITT, played drums. And Lawrence "Gabs" Reynolds played bass.
Stacked near the door to the club was a variety of instrument cases. Over the course of about three hours each musician would open a case, extract a guitar or saxophone, and "sit in" on a song or two. Many of these people had never played together before. But the mutual language of jazz (and in some instances, the book) made it seem easy.
The best surprise of the evening, though, was the much-talked-about voice of Rene Croan. Her husky, sultry vocals have gained a reputation in our area, and with good reason. She puts a lot of herself into every song she sings.
"It's not a science for me," Croan says. "I try to keep from sounding the same all the time." Her smoky rendition of "My Funny Valentine" (No. 308) silenced the club. Her scat singing on Jobim's "One Note Samba" (No. 331) was strong, too.
"People tell me I'm not old enough to know these songs," says Croan, who grew up on the sounds of Aretha Franklin. "But, I love these songs. I like to make them mine."
Macklin has deep memories of the jazz scene in the Roanoke area. "Oh yeah," he says recalling the heydays of Henry Street. "We played the 308 Club and the Yard, the Hotel Dumas, the Ebony Club. We had a time back then."
Today Macklin seems to be on a free-lance mission. "There are still a lot of jazz fans in Roanoke," he insists. "They just don't know where the jazz is at."
There are a few places in the area that are offering live jazz in a club setting: O'Dell's on the Market, and Cafe at Champs in Blacksburg.
But, tonight it's Mr. B's at the Days Inn. That's where perfect strangers can get together and honk through "My Favorite Things" (No. 306).
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