All that Jazz, by Phillip Hoyle

Jazz goes way back in my family. Dad played piano in a dance band in the 1930s and 40s. He played a lot of jazz and he sang. Sitting at the piano in those pre-microphone days he’d keep the rhythm going in his left hand and sing to the dancers through a megaphone he held in his right hand. I’m sure he never lost a beat, missed a note, or mis-sang a word.

He played at church where the Sunday morning service was rather formal featuring hymns like “Holy, Holy, Holy” or “Faith of Our Fathers” or even “Faith of Our Mothers” (yes, a special version probably for Mothers Day), but the evening service was much less staid. Preludes then featured improvised versions of simpler gospel hymns played by Dad and my eldest sister Lynn. They would decide who would play organ and who piano. Each hymn was played twice, first with one person being in charge of the melody while the other was free to improvise. On the repeat they’d change it around. Dad always played the key changes so they had a seamless delivery. They’d begin at, say, Number 252 and keep going until the preacher showed up to pray and preach. They’d continue their duet accompaniments during the congregational singing. Jazz rhythms mixed with holiness. Mom said that sometimes in those evening gatherings the back of Brother Lown’s neck would grow red when Dad jazzed up some particularly vivacious song. When Dad played the church’s Hammond organ, he didn’t use the vibrato and jazz-sounding combinations, but his improvisations were as much influenced by Jelly Roll Morton or Fats Waller as by J. S. Bach or Franz Schubert.

There was a lot more jazz. There were jazz 78 rpm records ones my father had collected. We played them over and over. Then there were LPs. As a junior high kid my favorite album among my oldest sister’s Columbia Record Club selections was “Ella in Berlin.” My favorite moment in the recording was when scat singing a rather fast song Ella laughingly sang, “Oh, I almost bit my tongue that time.” And there was more performance. My sister Lynn played piano in the school jazz band. Eventually, when churches let in more styles, she would occasionally do jazz stylizations on hymns and gospel songs—even Christmas hymns—and yes, in the morning service.

My next older sister Holly and I both sang some jazz standards. Dad taught some of them to us. One Saturday evening we got to go with him to a dinner club to hear a live performance. Afterwards Dad made sure we understood that although he liked our interest in jazz we should never try to make a living in jazz. “It will never be enough for your life,” he explained. He knew too many musicians who had music only (well that and booze and drugs and sex), and said that wasn’t enough.

Dad and I would sometimes stop by the Donovan Sundries Store on a Sunday afternoon. Paul Donovan had an organ there and occasionally played jazz for us. Being self-taught, Paul played mostly black notes; that would be like in the key of C Sharp or F Sharp. They fit his hand Dad explained. Sometimes Dad would play a piece or two while Mr. Donovan filled his order for a box of condoms. (It’s interesting what a junior high boy knows about his parents. They already had five kids; didn’t need any more!)

In high school, I got to sing a medley of Cole Porter songs with the school jazz band and later with the city band. That’s how I came to know “It’s All Right with Me,” and “You Do Something to Me.” The director liked that I sang loudly. But it was many years later when those songs really meant something romantic for me. That occurred when I fell in love with another man.

My son Michael from early on had a good jazz ear and played his renditions on the guitar. His son Evan followed suit by playing his own kind of jazz on the piano. Then his son Kalo got the jazz fever and today plays the bass in jazz bands, folk bands, rock bands and symphony orchestras. He is also a composer of, among other music, jazz songs. I suppose at least one of my great grandkids will also start jazzing it up someday. Frankly I’m looking forward to it.

I feel lucky to live in jazzy Denver. The house sits just three blocks from live jazz performances six nights a week. And Jim and I try never to miss hearing Larry Wegner and CJ Nicolai when they perform at the club. I bought their CD and sent it to my sister for her birthday. It features “I Can’t Get Started,” “Stars Fell on Alabama,” “The Falling Leaves” (CJ sings that in French), “No Moon at All,” “Smile,” and “The Nearness of You.” Lynn wrote back: “Dear Phillip, Thank you for the jazz CD. The first time I played it, I was cleaning the hard[wood] floors. After one or two songs, I was crying to the music. My Style of music! … Now we play one song at night, to get relaxed. I think I’ll never get tired of it.” 

© 2 January 2017

About the Author 

Phillip Hoyle lives in Denver and spends his time writing, painting, and socializing. In general he keeps busy with groups of writers and artists. Following thirty-two years in church work and fifteen in a therapeutic massage practice, he now focuses on creating beauty. He volunteers at The Center leading the SAGE program “Telling Your Story.”

He also blogs at artandmorebyphilhoyle.blogspot.com