(Paying Subscribers, at the bottom you’ll find a 15-page transcription of Tatum on “Body and Soul.”)
For anyone who still doubts that Tatum was an improviser—and for those of us who just love to listen to him—let’s hear several of his introductions to “Body and Soul.” No two are the same. Last time, in Part 4, we heard two gorgeous ones, from 1950 and 1955. (I sincerely hope that you have checked out all four previous posts in this Tatum series.)
Here he is on a radio transcription (that is, pre-recorded for broadcast) for the Standard company in January 1944 (sometimes wrongly listed as ca.1945). This is in the usual key of D-flat major. Let’s listen to this striking and quite beautiful introduction:
Last time we heard the remarkable ending of his “Body and Soul” recording for a “V-disc” in October 1945 (in C major). The introduction to that one is in time, and has a delicate quality:
How about this lovely introduction to a version in D-flat by his trio on May 1, 1944?:
Tatum recorded it yet again with Lionel Hampton and Buddy Rich in 1955 (in D-flat). He begins it alone, adding extra chords at 0:05 and 0:09:
Well, you’ve stayed with me this far and you haven’t said, “Please, no more ‘Body and Soul!” So I think you deserve to hear two complete performances of the song. Here is Tatum recorded in Harlem in July 1941, at a club called the “Gee-Haw Stables.” This is one of many now-historic recordings made by Jerry Newman, who owned a portable disc recorder (tape wasn’t available until the late 1940s).
The sound quality is not great, and it’s far from the best piano that Tatum ever played. Also, on the LP and CD it plays in B major, which is too slow—so I have moved it to C major. (Tatum played “Body” in C and in the usual D-flat, but never in B.) Still, a lot happens here musically. He does not play an intro this time—just starts right into it. Some of the many highlights: The unexpected chords that he plays at 0:25; the running left hand on the bridge at 0:44; one of his trademark “crush chords” at 1:32. He begins the A section at 1:39 in the “block chord” style that we first hear in 1938 (in Part 4), but this time he ends with a quote from Grieg’s “In the Hall of the Mountain King” (from Peer Gynt). The bridge at 2:04 is very contrapuntal, with single notes in the right hand.
In the last bridge at 2:27, he begins to use one of his favorite “funny” quotations (“Oh where, oh where, has my little dog gone?”), but then he suddenly gets an inspiration to quote Gershwin’s “The Man I Love” and then immediately goes into “Rhapsody in Blue.” The permutations that he goes through to make these melodies fit the chords of “Body and Soul” are really quite witty as well as musically virtuosic. And there’s so much more here:
And now that you’ve taken the time to listen to that poorly recorded but amazing solo, how about a beautifully recorded, even more amazing one? This was recorded in December 1953 for Norman Granz’s Clef label (he had other labels before Verve), in a “marathon” session—so called because he recorded 35 songs, one take of each, in something like three hours. But don’t be fooled into thinking that he was rushing thoughtlessly through these songs. His playing is consistently inventive and committed, and it’s best that they are first takes, because that way his spontaneity was documented.
The truth is that every second of this performance, like many of his others, is precious. I’ll just mention a few things that stand out to me, but really, everything that he does is delightful and surprising. (Paying Subscribers, you may want to follow along with the 15-page transcription, which is your gift below.) Again, this one is in C and he starts in with no introduction. But right away from 0:05 to 0:12 he inserts some unexpected harmonies. What‘s that he plays at 0:20-0:24? Way out! There are also some unusual chords at 1:11, and one of his big ringing chords at 1:24. (Paying Subscribers, that chord is at the end of the third measure at the top of the page numbered 18 in the transcription.)
The second chorus sets up a nice groove, but he goes so far out from 1:38 to 1:50 that it really appears that he will not get back to the song for the next A section! At 2:17 he quotes “Nobody Knows the Trouble I’ve Seen”—that may seem like a bore, but listen to those left hand chords underneath! At 2:44, the last A of this chorus, he plays an ascending pattern of diminished chords that one might associate with Herbie Hancock a decade later. (Paying Subscribers, see page 21, the second stave from the bottom.)
The third chorus begins at 3:07 with a double-time feel, with an emphasis on right hand runs. At 3:34 to 3:38 in the second A section is a tricky passage. In passages like this, some people (including the author of the transcription, attached for Paying Subscribers), have said that he “loses” or “drops” a beat. But when I go back and count carefully, I have never found that to be true. His inner time sense is rock solid, but over that he uses rubato, or very complex rhythms. For the bridge at 3:55, he breaks it up wildly between the hands. That’s another passage that’s hard to count through, 4 beats to a measure—but all the beats are there.
When he finishes the third chorus at 4:44, instead of starting a new one, he goes back to the bridge. That is not an error either—it’s a standard move, often used when an artist is getting ready to end and doesn’t want to go through another full long chorus to do so. He plays some of his rich chords at 4:50 and at 530, then ends with a variation of that “Ravel-like” passage that he played at the end of the V-disc recording back in October 1945 (in Part 4).
Please set aside six minutes (this is the longest of all these versions) for a wonderful experience!
(PAUSE)
Wow!
You’ll be glad to know that I have nothing to say after that, except that if the word “genius” means anything, you and I have just experienced it.
All the best,
Lewis
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