Boots Mussulli

Here's an alto saxist to be thoughtfully considered. During World War Il and for a year or two after, the keening, foaming, whiplash solos that betokened Boots Mussulli were intimately known to every Kenton fan. But if any of those enthusiasts should have wandered from the jazz scene then, and were suddenly to return to it today-to the strains of this music- he might conceivably have difficulty identifying the man on alto.

Boots isn't the same. He's changed; and in changing, he's done something that jazz soloists rarely attempt. Having reached a musical maturity, he polished and refined it into a successful style, then abandoned it in the cause of progress. The Boots of "Concerto To End All Concerto" and "Intermission Riff" is more kin than counterpart to the Boots recorded here, cousined chiefly through certain taproot characteristics: the tone is essentially the same—still vibrant and urgent; there still is a tendency to play a slew of notes—curbed somewhat now; and there remains an earmark that, happily, has proved immutable—an aura of stout-hearted sincerity.

Queried in his New England home by phone from Hollywood on March 2, 1955, Mussulli had something to say about this business of style-changing, and while he was at it, he let fly at several other topics pertinent to jazz. His remarks are quoted below; accompanying then are some appraisals of and information on the eleven songs of the album, in their play

boots ON HIS BACKGROUND: My home town is Milford, Mass. I was horn there November 18, 1916. I started on clarinet at 12. I played in the Milford High School Orchestra and led it for 3 years. The first band I worked for was Mal Hallett; one of the early ones was Teddy Powell. Then I had my own band for 7 or 8 years. When the war broke, I was working for Gene Krupa. I joined Kenton in 1943 and left him in 1947, but I've rejoined him for a tour now and then, and I made a tour with Charlie Ventura in 1950. Since then I've kept busy working as a soloist 3 or 4 nights a week at places like Storyville in Boston, and occasionally a couple of weeks somewhere with my quartet The rest of my time's taken up with private teaching the reeds and arranging.

RUBBER BOOTS—A cry of "Stand Clear!" from the alto, an excellent opening salvo from the drums, then everyone wades into this initial freshet with a will. Boots was stuck for a title;
Mentor Kenton dubbed this one.

LE SECRET—Gautier's oldie should stir memories in even the vaguest of ex-school-bandsmen. Boots studied it in a saxophone methods book and it kept running through his mind—intermittently, of course—for twenty years. With this easy going adaptation he exorcises it at last.

FOUR GIRLS—Following a figure that feints and stabs like I card party, the boys fete their opposite number in vir-chomses. Boots' work here delineates his debt to Parker.

boots ON STYLE: Some people think of me as a sort of "transitional" musician because I was identified with an earlier style of playing and now I don’t play the same way.
Sometimes they link my name with Georgie Auld's, saying he's done about the same thing. Well, Georgie's come a long way all right, and I admire his blowing very much. As for me, I've never felt like I was making a definite switch-over, it's just that the times change and I like to change with the times. I feel like I want to stay young musically and blow the best ideas I can at every stage. I've been following the different trends in jazz all my life. As a result my style is sort of a mixture of the old with the new, you might say.

EL MOROCCO—One of those sinuous showcases for un-American type drumming, this bazaar entry escapes being run-of-the-marketplace through Boots’ reluctance to overplay his snake-charmer role, and because Shelly’s buffeting arabesques are probably as artistic as anything he’s done on records.

DIGA DIGA DOO—Six swoops, six swift thrusts from the alto (an explosion from the drums
seemingly depicting the Merrimac attacking), a convoluted, bubbling cascade of notes out of Boots' past (the Monitor returns the fire) and the song leaps free like the wild dance it is.
Young Littman, though martial, plays very good solos, indeed.

boots ON ALTOS, CLARINETS: When I was a kid learning clarinet, the first guy that really killed me was Pee Wee Russell...then Benny Goodman. I was strongly influenced by Benny Carter. And those earlier guys didn't just fade out of the picture…Carter…Jimmy Dorsey…Johnny Hodges…I still enjoy hearing those boys play. Then there's a great crop of young alto players coming along now…I appreciate very much Lee Konitz, Paul Desmond…a fellow named Charlie Mariano; I think Charlie and I dig the same things in jazz…and there's a kid out there on the West Coast—Lennie Niehaus—I like. But my favorite is Charlie Parker…has been almost since the first time I heard him.

BLUES IN THE NIGHT—Boots' pleasantly guttural baritone wends its casual way through the familiar fields of this middle-aged torch song. The mood is properly blowzy and effect somehow comforting and wholesome.

MUTT AND JEFF—Mutt and Jeff are the baritone and the alto and that's the long are of it. The big horn handles the incoming choruses, competent piano bridges the gap, and the alto exits. Much elbow room is allotted to both horns; close comparison proves them equally well and with equal ease.

boots ON THE NOVEMBER SESSION: The session started late at night and the morning. Shelly Manne and Max Bennett came to the studios direct from a concert in Brooklyn. Max was with Stan's band and Shelly was with Shorty Rogers. They seemed beat but relaxed. We just put the tunes up and went to work; when you've got guys like Shelly and Max there you don't have to worry too musch. Things went pretty smooth…not many hassels. The last thing we did was "Tico Tico," then the boys jumped right on a train for Boston. Everybody seemed pretty happy with the date…I maybe could've relaxed a little more on some of my things…but as a whole I thought it swung and that's the thing we were after.

YOU STEPPED OUT OF A DREAM—The gang steps out at a pace a bit too brisk for sleepwalking but one conducive to gentle swinging. A pretty song touched up with just the right amount of writing, this number exemplifies Boots' restrained approach to arranging. Mussulli arranged all the old and wrote all the new material in this album. He employs a style, uniform and personal, which, under study, discloses from its meager garb a certain subtlety, an ordered craft, and a sympathetic way with songs.

TICO TICO—The swift-winged cuckoo song, closing the November session, gives Boots a chance to exercise his virtuosity; he presses to the fore. With Santisi and Bennett rolling in overdrive, this last go-round before the train to Boston finds Manne singularly at ease finishing up one of the suavest performances of his career.

boots ON HIS QUARTET: I first heard these boys working as a trio at the Stables in Boston. I was looking to form a quartet and I asked them to come on and go with me. The thought I had at the time was how much easier it would be to pick up a ready-made rhythm section and just go to work with it. Since then I've realized what a lucky idea that was: these boys are a great team. Ray Santisi's 26 and, I think, one of the young, coming-up piano men. Jack Carter's 24 and Pete Littman is just 20. They're all three Boston boys. They still work as a trio at the Stables in between our quartet jobs.

LITTLE MAN—A little man can go a long way, certainly, in such gracious company as this, and at such a carefree jog. This is far and away Boots' best solo. Here is the optimum relaxation he pursues, wielded to good purpose. Here his phrases fairly chirrup, in tones bright and summery as a lemon popsicle. Peter, John, and Ray ride under, supporting him without jolt or strain. Who first bolstered whom is a chicken-and-egg conjecture; such high moments may seem just routine to them. If so, it augurs well for the fortunes of the group.

LULLABY IN RHYTHM—In this excellent close-out number a lot of the rapport remains, and if the fine edge of the excitement is softened, that's only fitting in a lullaby. This song has good time, good blowing, and a good spirit to close an album of high rhythmic content.

boots ON THE FUTURE: I'm going to get my quartet together on a long-term basis and travel from city to city. If it's true, this business about me changing styles and making it stick, then I feel pretty cheerful about the future…because anybody that changes stands a chance of improving…at least a better chance than the guy that stands still. And one thing's sure. I'm going to be trying to improve myself…always will. Some people think the jazz situation's slipping down but it’s on the upward trend. There'll always be jazz as long as there are people excited about it. Me, I'm as excited about it as I was the first time I heard it.

—Will MacFarland