(Paying Subscribers, in this essay I present many of Webster’s solos, excerpted from his recordings. At the bottom, you will get to hear some of those recordings in complete form.)
In the previous essays of this series, I have collected a tremendous amount of new information about the life of Freddie Webster. Together, they begin to give us a picture of Freddie as a warm, lovable man, a fancy dresser, someone who was fiercely anti-racist and carried a gun, and an artist who knew his value and asked for “star” treatment. He was also, at least during the winter of 1943-44, a troubled man who considered and once attempted suicide. But he recovered, and was fondly remembered by all who knew him.
In order to keep this series to a manageable length, I have omitted many of the newspaper clippings that I found, and I have not commented on his every known gig or every recording. But as a pianist myself, the music is still always the priority. There are about 54 recorded solos by Webster. I say “about” because there are a few cases where it is not known who plays trumpet on a recording—especially with big bands that have three or four trumpeters—and there is some debate as to whether Freddie is the soloist on those. I have listened to absolutely everything that has a definite or even possible Webster solo, except for the Jubilee Armed Forces Radio Service broadcast #40. The contents of that one have been found listed in paper files, but the only known audio copy is at the Library of Congress. I might go there to hear it someday.
Today and in the next essay, you will listen to many of these recordings. To save time for you, I have excerpted Freddie’s solos only. (For paying subscribers, many of the complete recordings are below as a bonus.) I omitted solos that were only four measures long, and focused on ones that are 8, 16, 32, and even 64 measures. The bottom line is that we have a lot of recorded evidence of Webster’s style. We also have many statements by fellow musicians as to what he sounded like. I’m going to tell you the conclusion first, and I trust that you will take the time to examine the wealth of evidence that I’ll provide below and next time. The recordings, and the testaments of his musician friends, all lead to the same conclusion. They tell us without a doubt that:
Freddie Webster was a swing trumpeter, somewhat in the vein of Roy Eldridge and Hot Lips Page, with a distinctive big, fat tone. During his last few years he was actively studying the new bebop language, partly with the help of Miles Davis, but he died before he was able to master it. His reputation was based largely on his tone and his vivacious personality, and of course on his bold swing style.
Let’s take the statements of his peers first. Just about every one of them talks about his tone. Several mention that he did not play a lot of notes, and some specifically state that he did not play bebop, but wanted to learn it. Since Miles Davis is probably the main source of Webster’s reputation today, let’s look at some of his statements. He was absolutely consistent over many years in saying that Freddie’s tone was his main quality, not his attempts to play bebop. These quotes date from 1950 all the way to about 1985:
When I was growing up I played like Roy Eldridge, Harry James, Freddie Webster and anyone else I admired. You’ve got to start way back there [that is, in the older styles] before you can play bop. (“Nothing but Bop? ‘Stupid,’ Says Miles,” DownBeat, January 27, 1950, by Pat Harris)
Freddie didn’t play a lot of notes…I used to teach him chords, everything I learned at Juilliard…And in return, I’d try to get his tone. (Nat Hentoff, Esquire magazine, March 1959, titled “Miles Davis: Last Trump”—believe it or not. Reprinted in Hentoff’s book Jazz Is. )
Here are Miles and Dizzy talking about Webster in Dizzy’s 1979 autobiography (p.227):
Dizzy: Freddie Webster probably had the best sound of a trumpet since the trumpet was invented.
Miles: That you ever heard in your life!
Dizzy: That was alive you know, just alive and full of life.
Finally, here’s an excerpt from an informal audio interview with Miles done at an airport, probably in July 1985. He starts by talking about Freddie’s “big” tone, and says it was not a “velvet” or “legit” tone (legitimate, that is, classical), but was more like a cross between a mellophone and a trumpet. (At 0:09 he burps and says quickly, “Pardon me.”) He sings an example of the “buzz” or “growl” that Freddie got on low notes, like Roy Eldridge. Miles even sings some examples of what Freddie did wrong in trying to play bop, showing the awkwardness of his phrasing. He ends by saying that he told Freddie, “Okay, you show me your tone, I’ll show you how to play fast” [that is, bebop].
Saxophonist Charlie Rouse said something along the same lines in Ira Gitler’s book Swing to Bop (p.99). The punctuation is not very clear, but this is how it was published:
Freddie wasn’t like a soloist that’d be running everything [that is, he didn’t “run” fast notes as in bebop], but that sound Freddie had. And that includes Dizzy and all of them—tried to get that sound of his. Freddie would hit one note, man, and it would fill up a whole stadium, whole theater.
In short, nobody said that Webster taught them to play bebop, or that they transcribed his solos to learn bop, or anything like that.
Please don’t comment on this just yet. We will talk about this some more, and about Benny Bailey’s testimony, in the next essay—after we have heard his music. I want you to be as well informed as possible, so I have collected for you a substantial portion of Webster’s recorded solos, including many that are exceedingly rare, and one below that has never before been listed. So let’s start listening. I’ll share several solos at a time, roughly in chronological order:
Webster’s first recorded solos are on the two takes of “Solid Mama” with the Earl Hines band, March 7, 1938. I agree with Brian Priestley and Jan Evensmo about this. We disagree with Schneeberger, who thinks it is not Webster. And everyone agrees that he is featured on the two takes of “Goodnight, Sweet Dreams, Goodnight,” from the same session. This first group contains all four of these solos:
His next recorded solos were on a film of the Lucky Millinder band made in early 1940. Those clips are in Essay 3, so I won’t repeat them here.
The popular small band of alto saxophonist and singer Louis Jordan had only one trumpeter, so Freddie is well featured on his one session with the band, April 2, 1941. His trumpet is muted on all of his solos. This next group, in order, contains his solos from “St. Vitus Dance,” “De Laff’s On You” (you’ll hear two solos from this Caribbean-influenced number), and “Boogie Woogie Came To Town”:
(Schneeberger believes that Webster was also the unidentified trumpeter on Jordan’s session of January 1941, but my ears tell me that he was not there.)
Webster’s music was captured by Jerry Newman on his portable disc recorder at Minton’s nightclub in Harlem on April 30, 1941. Webster played two of his longest recorded solos, “My Melancholy Baby” and a wildly flamboyant approach to “Sweet Georgia Brown”:
(These two jam session tracks also featured Hot Lips Page, Joe Guy, and Thelonious Monk. The complete tracks, and more, are included below as bonus items for paying subscribers.)
This next group features seven of Webster’s solos. First is Freddie’s solo from a song simply called “Savoy” (not “Stompin at…”) with Lucky Millinder’s band in February 1942; then “Strictly Instrumental” with Lunceford in June 1942. After that you’ll hear two solos from a session for Decca Records led by pianist Sammy Price on July 25, 1942: “Teed-Up” (a golf expression that was used in slang to mean “drunk” or “high”) and “Frantic.” Finally, we will listen to three Webster solos from another Decca session the very next day, July 26, 1942, led by a little-known singer and jazz pianist known as Sonny Boy aka “Sunny” Williams (not to be confused with several blues singers named Williamson): “Reverse The Charges” (coauthored by Williams and Webster), “Rubber Bounce,” and “Honey It Must Be Love.” Here goes, seven solos:
(Paying Subscribers, below you will find all three Williams titles complete.)
From roughly this same time period, here are four Webster solos from a Lucky Millinder broadcast, believed to be from the Apollo Theater in Harlem, on December 7, 1941. (We know the date because the broadcast was interrupted by a news update regarding the Pearl Harbor attack.) Webster solos briefly on “Let Me Off Uptown” (made famous of course by the Gene Krupa band), gets more time on “Deep in the Heart of Texas,” and takes a full two choruses on “Sweet Georgia Brown.” I have added a number listed as “Comin’ On Home” (aka “Coming Home”) because, although it has never before been noted, Freddie solos on this one too. Here are the four solos:
And now from his year with Lunceford’s band, which lasted from about May 1942 through late July 1943, here are three solos: “Jersey Bounce” from a radio broadcast at the Trianon Ballroom in South Gate, in Los Angeles County, June or July 1942; “When The Swallows Come Back to Capistrano,” probably from the same time period; and finally, from an unknown date of his tenure with the band, a full feature for him on “Star Dust”:
Next time, we will continue our survey of Webster’s recordings, including his most famous trumpet feature, and his most serious attempt at playing bebop. Then we will conclude our discussion of his life and music. I’ll see you shortly!
All the best,
Lewis
