Monday Side-Session: Caravan Across the Century

Yesterday, we heard several versions of Juan Tizol’s classic Caravan as played by various Duke Ellington groups. For today’s side‑session, we’ll wander a little farther into the dunes and check out how other bands and artists have handled this ever‑mysterious tune.

“Caravan” might be the most recorded number in the entire Ellington band book, and from the very beginning it inspired wildly different interpretations. We’ll do a little decade‑hopping and hit some highlights.

1937: The First Wave of Covers

We start with Bunny Berigan on Victor, recorded just a couple of months after Duke’s own version:

A sharp arrangement by pianist Joe Lippman, and Bunny’s growl trumpet is absolutely convincing. He could do anything he wanted with that horn!

Next up, pianist Edgar Hayes and his band for Decca, also in 1937:

I think I say all the time that Edgar Hayes had an underrated band. I stand by that statement!

And the tune even crossed the Atlantic that same year, where Ambrose recorded it for British Decca:

Three takes from 1937, each bringing its own flavor to the journey.

1946–1949: New Rhythms, New Ideas

This caravan moves fast, so let’s hop off in 1946 to catch Charlie Barnet on the Apollo label:

Charlie could never resist an Ellington‑related number.

Then in 1948, pioneer electric guitarist Les Paul gives the tune a then‑modern facelift on this multitrack gem for Capitol:

Possibly the first guitar‑centric Caravan — but far from the last.

Next, tenor sax star Flip Phillips teams up with Latin legend Machito for this 1949 Mercury side:

I’m sure Juan Tizol approved!

1952–1953: A Curious Case of Influence

We enter the 1950s with a fascinating take by The Esquire Boys for the small Rainbow label in 1952:

A very cool reworking featuring guitarist Danny Cedrone, who would soon play the iconic solo on Bill Haley’s Rock Around the Clock.

Then comes the intrigue: Ralph Marterie’s hit version for Mercury in 1953.

Ralph’s record is clearly based on the Esquire Boys’ arrangement from the year before. Was it authorized? Hmmm…

Late ’50s: Stereo, Steel and Swing

Next stop: New Orleans, 1958, where Al Hirt includes an extended version on his Swingin’ Dixie! album for Audio Fidelity:

Lots of fun in early stereo!

The guitars return with Santo & Johnny, whose steel‑guitar take was recorded in 1959 and released as a single in 1960 on the Canadian-American label:

I’m a big fan of Santo & Johnny — Sleepwalk is one of my all‑time favorites.

1960s: Big Signatures from Big Names

I’m also a big fan of Pérez Prado, who cut this version for RCA Victor in 1964:

Sounds great!

Then in 1967, Bert Kaempfert records his own unmistakable take, released in the U.S. on Decca:

You could do a blindfold test and spot both Prado and Kaempfert instantly!

1976: Disco in the Dunes

A quick stop in 1976 for — of all things — a disco version of “Caravan” by Rhythm Heritage on ABC:

I was a young big‑band fan in 1976 and don’t remember hearing this one. I’m sure I would’ve been horrified, but now it’s a fun artifact of the era.

2000: A Rockabilly Blast

We end our trek as a new century dawns with Brian Setzer’s roaring take with his orchestra from the 2000 album Vavoom!:

A long ride — but worth every mile! But how do we get the sand out of all those guitar amps?

Sundays with Duke #22: La Caravana de Juan

In 1937, Duke Ellington and his orchestra gave us a classic: Caravan, composed by Duke’s gifted valve trombonist Juan Tizol. Let’s start with Duke’s popular recording from May 1937 on Master Records:

That’s the one most folks know — Juan’s steady tone leading the way, exotic and hypnotic.

But here’s the twist: Duke had already recorded Caravan months earlier, in late 1936, as part of a small Ellington unit fronted by clarinetist Barney Bigard. That version was released on Irving Mills’ Variety label under the name Barney Bigard and His Jazzopaters:

It’s a fascinating contrast. Just Juan on trombone, Barney on clarinet, Cootie Williams on trumpet, Harry Carney on baritone sax, and a rhythm section of Duke, Billy Taylor (bass), and Sonny Greer (drums). No full band needed — the mood is all there.

Incidentally, both Master and Variety were Irving Mills creations. The man didn’t miss a trick.

Caravan Keeps Rolling

Duke performed Caravan often — on radio, in concert, and in revised studio versions. One notable re-recording came in 1945 for Victor:

By then, Juan Tizol had left the band, and Duke’s name had started appearing as co-composer. Irving Mills still got credit too, ostensibly for lyrics Duke rarely used.

Jump to 1951 and we find a curious version on Mercer Records credited to The Coronets:

Who were The Coronets? Listen closely - Juan’s valve trombone is unmistakable, so you don't even need to read the label to know it's him. Willie Smith, Duke's alto sax player at the time, is also credited, and Duke's right-hand man Billy Strayhorn is listed as director. Throw in that Mercer was Duke’s son’s name, and you don't have to be Sgt. Friday to know this is clearly an Ellington unit in disguise. Shades of The Whoopee Makers!

A treat from around this time is a video of Juan with the band:

Also cool to see and hear Ray Nance on violin!

LP Era with a Vocal Turn

Duke recorded a new version for Capitol in 1954, included on Dance to the Duke:

It’s a cool, expanded take - LP format in full swing - but again, no Juan Tizol, who was between stints with the band.

Then in 1957, we get what may be the only Duke-led version with lyrics, sung by none other than Ella Fitzgerald:

If you’re only going to have one vocal version, Ella’s the one to have. It's from the essential Verve album Ella Fitzgerald Sings the Duke Ellington Song Book.

Hidden Tracks and Bonus Rides

We wrap with two versions recorded in the 1960s but released much later - because what’s a Duke journey without a little unreleased intrigue?

First, a 1962 recording featuring tenor sax star Paul Gonsalves, released in 1984 on Fantasy:

Then, a 1966 version recorded during sessions for The Popular Duke Ellington (RCA Victor), left off the original release but later added as a CD bonus track:

A Ride Through the Decades

From small-unit mystery to full-band majesty, from label sleight-of-hand to LP expansion, Caravan rolled on — always with Juan’s signature sound at its heart. Whether front and center or tucked behind a pseudonym, his trombone steered the journey.

Threaded Thursday: More Nobility

Following yesterday’s deep dive into Harlem Nocturne — the Earl Hagen tune introduced by Ray Noble and his Orchestra before becoming a jazz standard — we pick up the thread with another Noble‑born classic destined to become a standard: Cherokee.

We’re doing another deep dive, but for the first few selections we’re going in reverse chronological order so we can start with the definitive version.

Barnet and Billy's Blast

And that, of course, is the classic 1939 Bluebird recording by Charlie Barnet:

That smash recording — with Billy May’s terrific arrangement and Charlie’s romping tenor — is one I’ve known forever. It showed up on just about every big‑band compilation I snapped up back in the day, and for good reason. A certified classic!

The Noblest Take (1938)

I’d always known that Ray Noble wrote Cherokee as part of his Indian Suite, but it took a while before I finally heard Ray’s own version.

Here’s his 1938 Brunswick recording:

A really lovely record — refined, elegant, almost like the older brother to Barnet’s rowdy little sibling.

Spud Sneaks In (1938)

For years I assumed Ray’s version was the first. But much later I learned that Spud Murphy actually beat him to the punch, recording Cherokee in April 1938, months before Ray’s October date. No idea why, but there it is!

Here’s Spud’s Decca side:

And yes — thank you, Internet — this was also when I learned that Spud Murphy had a band in the late ’30s. I’d only known him as an ace arranger for Benny Goodman and others.

Once Barnet’s record hit big, other bands jumped in.

The Count Doubles Down (1939)

Count Basie recorded a two‑sided Decca version later in 1939:

Another completely different take — relaxed, swinging, and very Basie.

Jimmy's Jam (1940)

And because Decca never minded issuing multiple versions of the same tune, Jimmy Dorsey got his crack at it in 1940:

Very nice — and unmistakably JD. The man could play!

Bird Breaks the Barrier (1942)

The tune’s adaptability helped make “Cherokee” a favorite among jazz musicians. The chord structure is famously tricky but incredibly rewarding for improvisers.

Charlie Parker loved it and used it as the basis for his early bebop experiments. Here’s a non‑commercial “Bird” workout from 1942:

You can hear how the world wasn’t quite ready for that in ’42 — it still astounds.

The story goes that Parker planned to record “Cherokee” for Savoy in 1945, but the label didn’t want to pay royalties (sorry, Ray). So Bird took the chords and created Ko Ko.

Let’s spin it since we're spinning:

Take a close look at the label for the eye‑popping personnel in the Ri Bop Boys.

Singing the Unsung (1942)

Back to Cherokee itself: Ray Noble also wrote lyrics, but the tune is overwhelmingly performed as an instrumental. There was one early vocal version, though — on Bluebird in 1942 by The Deep River Boys:

Very interesting — and very different.

A Sassy Switch (1956)

I don’t think another vocal version appeared until Sarah Vaughan included it — with a gender twist — on her 1956 Mercury album Sarah Vaughan in the Land of Hi‑Fi:

That really swings — and how fantastic is Cannonball Adderley on alto?

Taking "Ames" at the Classic

Let’s close with another vocal version that brings us full circle: The Ames Brothers, from their 1960 RCA Victor album The Ames Brothers Sing the Best of the Bands, with a Sid Ramin arrangement inspired by Charlie Barnet and Billy May:

An awesome finale to our twenty‑year stroll with the sweet maiden. Hope you enjoyed it!

Word Association Wednesday: A Nocturnal Stroll

For today’s Word Association Wednesday, it didn’t take long for me to wander from Duke Ellington’s Echoes of Harlem to another Harlem‑themed classic: Earl Hagen’s Harlem Nocturne.

The tune has inspired so many covers and reinventions since its 1940 debut that its origin story can feel a bit lost in the fog. But the tale goes like this:

Earl Hagen — then a trombonist and arranger for Ray Noble’s band — attended a Duke Ellington performance with his bandmate, alto saxist Jack Dumont. They were knocked out by Johnny Hodges’ alto sound, so Hagen wrote “Harlem Nocturne” in an Ellington mood, with a featured part for Jack.

The 1940s: A Slow Burn

The First Whisper: Ray Noble (1940)

Naturally, the first recording was by Ray Noble and his Orchestra, featuring Jack Dumont, on Columbia in 1940:

Such an atmospheric record — it sets the whole template.

Interestingly, despite its later status as a standard, Harlem Nocturne didn’t spark a wave of immediate recordings. It was a slow burn, just like the tune itself.

A Rare Early Echo: Shep's Reeds (Early 1940s)

The only other early‑’40s version I can find is this radio transcription by Shep Fields and his New Music:

That’s Shep’s all‑reed band — and it sounds great.

A Shift Toward R&B: Johnny Otis (1945)

The next commercial release seems to be by Johnny Otis in 1945 for the Excelsior label, featuring René Block on sax:

This one nudges the tune toward rhythm and blues — and René Block could really hold a note.

A Popular Turn: Randy Brooks (1945)

Also in late 1945, trumpeter/bandleader Randy Brooks recorded a popular version for Decca. Despite Randy’s virtuosity on trumpet, the spotlight goes to saxist Eddie Caine:

Across the Pond: Ted Heath (1948)

In 1948, British bandleader Ted Heath recorded a fine version for British Decca with alto saxist Leslie Gilbert:

A lovely reading.

The 1950s: The Tune Finds Its Crowd

Dick Jurgens Invites Us to Dance (1950)

Veteran bandleader Dick Jurgens recorded a nice version for his 1950 Columbia album Your Dance Date With Dick Jurgens:

It kind of seems like Harlem Nocturne is being treated as something of a standard with its inclusion on this album of mostly familiar songs.

Ray’s Trumpet Glows (1950)

Ray Anthony cut his version for Capitol in 1950 — and breaks tradition by featuring his own trumpet instead of sax:

I’ve always been partial to this one — the trumpet really works! And those Miller‑esque reeds make sense — you may recall that Ray had played with Glenn Miller as a teenager in the early 1940s.

Stan's Sketch (1953)

Also for Capitol, Stan Kenton recorded this striking 1953 version:

Kenton loved to experiment, so of course he features his piano against that big, brassy sound — and no alto sax solo.

Herbie Brings Back the Sax (1953)

Later in 1953, sax star Herbie Fields recorded a popular version for the Parrot label:

The Big One: The Viscounts (1959)

From here, there are zillions of versions — but we have to stop at the most famous: The Viscounts from 1959 on Madison:

It hit the Top 40 twice — in 1959 and again in 1965 (on the Amy label) — and it’s unforgettable.

1960: Space‑Age and a Vocal Turn

Esquivel’s RCA Victor Magic (1960)

In 1960, the always‑fascinating Esquivel included a version on his RCA Victor album Infinity in Sound:

I really dig Esquivel — no one else ever sounded quite like him!

His version features vocalese and has just one word, “Nocturne, sung at the endwhich makes it seem like the tune never had lyrics. But it did — written by Dick Rogers — though they’re rarely heard.

A Fascinating Vocal: Ernestine Anderson (1960)

One vintage vocal version does exist: Ernestine Anderson, on her Mercury album The Fascinating Ernestine:

Fascinating indeed. And awesome!

The Plot Thickens

Caterina's Blues (1957)

Now for some intrigue: there’s also a rival set of lyrics by Sid Robin, retitling the tune Nocturne for the Blues. The first recording was by Caterina Valente on Decca:

I’m not sure how I feel about Caterina’s vocal, but Sy Oliver’s backing is terrific!

The Velvet Fog Rolls In (1965)

And here’s a moody 1965 take from Mel Tormé, on his very literally titled Atlantic album Mel Tormé Sings “Sunday in New York” and Other Songs About New York:

Smooth as smooth can be. And how about the little nod to the original title at the end?

A Slow, Steady Stroll

I suspected when I stepped onto the Harlem Nocturne path that we’d end up hearing a lot of versions, and her we are 25 years down the road! Hopefully you enjoyed the stroll!

Drop a comment and tell me your favorite — even if it’s one I missed.

Monday Side-Session: A Little Bit of Little Jazz

After enjoying trumpet star Roy Eldridge’s take on the Duke Ellington/Cootie Williams classic Echoes of Harlem, it feels like the perfect moment to swing our Side‑Session spotlight over to Roy — “Little Jazz” himself.

As a big‑band aficionado first and foremost, I’ve always loved Roy’s work with Gene Krupa’s band in the early 1940s. So today we’ll spin a quartet of sides that show off the full Eldridge arsenal: fire, finesse, humor, and heart.

Let Me Off Uptown (Okeh, 1941)

A stone‑cold classic, with Roy trading playful jabs with vocalist Anita O’Day before uncorking a sizzling trumpet solo.

This record is just a blast — ten inches of shellac capturing the whole electric mood of the era.

For extra fun, here's a video transcription of the song:

How cool is that?

After You’ve Gone (Okeh, 1941)

A workout for the ages. Roy tears into this old standard with pyrotechnics that still feel modern.

Rockin’ Chair (Okeh, 1941)

The tempo drops and Roy turns lyrical, delivering a solo that’s a masterclass in melodic storytelling.

Knock Me a Kiss (Columbia, 1942)

A novelty tune elevated by Roy’s charm — he sings, he swings, and the band wraps around him like a well‑tailored suit.

That’s just plain fun!

Taken together, these four sides represent a real peak for Roy, Gene and Anita — a little pocket of perfection in the Krupa discography!

A Little Archeology: Tracing “After You’ve Gone”

Since “After You’ve Gone” is such a signature Eldridge vehicle, let’s dig up a couple of earlier versions that set the stage.

Benny Goodman Trio — After You’ve Gone (Victor, 1935)

Benny on clarinet, Teddy Wilson on piano, and Gene Krupa on drums — three masters in tight formation.

Roy Eldridge & his Orch — After You’ve Gone (Vocalion, 1937)

With vocalist Gladys Palmer, and with Roy already sketching the blueprint for what he’d later unleash with Krupa.

These are just snippets from the long, brilliant career of Little Jazz — but what glorious snippets they are.