russian lullaby

My collection of jazz on old LPs is steadily growing. However, as I’ve probably said before, real jazz fans don’t discard good recordings. This is perhaps the reason I’m often disappointed at the quality of tracks on pre-owned albums I buy. Usually only the lacklustre get into the second-hand shops. But there are exceptions.

Recently I had a grand piece of luck. Poking around in a charity shop, I noticed a Vic Dickenson record languishing beneath a pane of grubby glass at the counter. It was a little more than I usually like to pay (I was charged £2 for it) but I bought it anyway.

It’s not actually an LP. It’s a 10” long-playing single with one extended track on each side. The title: Vic Dickenson Septet Vol. 1. They really knew how to create compelling names for records back in 1953. The producers probably burnt gallons of midnight oil to come up with the sequel: Vic Dickenson Septet Vol. 2.

Here’s the good news. Side 1 is Russian Lullaby, a superb example of fifties jazz. The liner notes by Stanley Dance call it ‘mainstream,’ a genre sitting slightly awkwardly between New Orleans and Modern. Whatever type of jazz it is, Russian Lullaby swings like a catkin in a summer breeze. Now that probably seems a contradiction; a swinging lullaby sounds like an oxymoron. But take a look at the line-up of the rhythm section and genuine aficionados will understand me: Sir Charles Thompson (p) Steve Jordan (g) Walter Page (b) Les Erskine (d).

These lads might sit at the back, but they surge forward like the metaphorical Formula 1 drivers they are. And the three in the front row (Vic Dickenson (tb) – Ruby Braff (t) and Edmond Hall (cl) rise to the occasion and turn what could so easily be a desultory ramble into a championship event. And they all cross the line together. The pace isn’t fast, but it’s driven. The momentum carries it ahead of so many rivals. Too much jazz just doesn’t swing. This recording does.

At my age I need something to wake me, not send me nodding into a dribbling cocoon of senescent boredom. This Vic Dickenson is just what my psychiatrist prescribed.