Sundays with Duke #38: Everyone’s Jumping

Last Sunday, while we were digging into Duke Ellington’s I Got It Bad (And That Ain’t Good), I mentioned that the tune first appeared in Duke’s 1941 musical revue Jump for Joy. So this week, let’s jump straight to the title song itself.

Herb's Hurdle

Duke and the band recorded Jump for Joy for Victor in July 1941, with Herb Jeffries handling the vocal:

It really is joyous. Herb sounds terrific, but for me, Tricky Sam Nanton quietly steals the spotlight — his trombone practically sings the lyrics. It’s one of those moments where the Ellington band blurs the line between voice and instrument.

Ivie's Impetus

I’d known Herb’s version for years before stumbling across an alternate take from the same session on a later compilation. When I first heard it, I thought, “Hmmm… something’s a little different.” Then after Tricky Sam’s solo, the arrangement shifts — and suddenly Ivie Anderson comes in instead of Herb Jeffries.

It’s such a treat to hear the band try the tune with each vocalist. Herb’s take will always feel like the “official” one to me, but Ivie brings her own sparkle.

Ray's Romp

Duke kept Jump for Joy active in the band’s book, and after Herb left, it became a Ray Nance specialty. The band cut this version for Capitol Transcriptions in 1947, with Ray on the vocal:

This one sticks close to the original arrangement, with Tyree Glenn stepping into the trombone role. Tyree had taken over after Tricky Sam’s passing the year before — and while Tyree was a fine player, no one could truly replace Tricky Sam’s voice‑like magic.

Jimmy's Jump

Ray continued singing the tune for years, but let’s close with something different: an intriguing small‑group instrumental from 1956 featuring Jimmy Hamilton on clarinet:

This unreleased‑at‑the‑time performance is just Jimmy backed by Duke on piano, Jimmy Woode on bass, and Sam Woodyard on drums — a tight little rhythm section giving Hamilton plenty of room to dance, with a cameo from just the band's trombone section only!

So… Who Jumped the Best?

Plenty of jumping goin on — Herb, Ivie, Ray, Jimmy, Tricky Sam, Tyree. Each brings a different kind of lift.

Who jumped highest for you?

Warehouse Whispers

Was this the first song to rhyme groovy with movie? It seems so 1960s!

Tuesday Tidbit: Smoke Rings

Still thinking about Duke Ellington’s I Got It Bad (And That Ain’t Good), I’m reminded of how I first encountered that record. It goes all the way back to my early big‑band‑fan days — young, curious, collecting anything I could get my hands on, absorbing the era one 78 at a time.

One of the most enlightening finds from that period was the Smoke Rings album of Victor 78s from 1944. Eight discs, eight bands, each with a hit from 1936–43. It felt like a curated crash course in the pop landscape of the time. Duke’s side was in there, of course — and hearing it in that lineup made a lasting impression.

So today, I thought it would be fun to revisit all eight sides and add the impressions I had back then.

Side 1: These Foolish Things Remind Me of You — Benny Goodman

At the time, I mainly knew Benny Goodman as the King of Swing — Sing, Sing, Sing, Don’t Be That Way, all the up‑tempo instrumentals. So hearing his band play a ballad was a surprise. Helen Ward’s fragile, wistful vocal style fits the song perfectly, like tissue paper around a keepsake. It was my first glimpse of BG’s softer palette.

Side 2: Once in a While — Tommy Dorsey

A lovely record from the cold‑open trombone solo straight through the quartet vocal. I already knew Tommy Dorsey’s trombone sound, so that felt familiar. Jack Leonard I recognized from Marie, and later — once I’d heard more TD sides — I realized Edythe Wright was tucked into the vocal ensemble even though the label claimed it was a male quartet.

Side 3: My Reverie — Larry Clinton

My favorite of the set. Larry Clinton wasn’t as famous as Goodman, Dorsey, or Miller, so this felt like a real discovery. A star arranger leading a band rather than a star instrumentalist — that intrigued me. And Bea Wain’s vocal is just gorgeous. I raved about this one in this earlier post.

Side 4: Moon Love — Sammy Kaye

A wild card. Sammy Kaye sits firmly in the sweet‑band category, and sweet bands don’t get much respect now (or then), but they were an important part of the era’s musical tapestry. Same basic instrumentation as the swing bands — trumpets, trombones, saxes, rhythm — yet completely different results. That's always been fascinating to me.

The sweet bands heavily featured vocalists, such as Clyde Burke here. I liked this side then, and I still do — singing song title and all!

Side 5: All the Things You Are — Artie Shaw

This one’s the goods — wonderful song, wonderful band, wonderful singer. Artie Shaw’s clarinet is every bit as brilliant as Goodman’s, just in a different way. And Helen Forrest is one of the great canaries of the period.

Side 6: Intermezzo — Freddy Martin

Another sweet band, but Freddy Martin always stood apart. His tenor sax tone gave the reed section a rich, unmistakable sound. And his fondness for classical‑leaning material makes Intermezzo a perfect fit. I still occasionally mix up Clyde Rogers and Clyde Burke, though!

Side 7: I Got It Bad and That Ain’t Good — Duke Ellington

Here’s the seismic shift. At the time, I think I only really had heard the fabulous Take the “A” Train as far as Duke Ellington records. But this record was something else entirely. Ivie Anderson’s vocal, the band’s texture, and that brief Johnny Hodges alto solo between her choruses — that solo alone sent me down a rabbit hole.

And it wasn’t lost on me that Duke was the only Black bandleader included in the set. In 1944, that was a statement.

Side 8: That Old Black Magic — Glenn Miller

A fitting closer. Glenn Miller was the band I knew best back then — LP compilations of his records were readily available. But this was my first time hearing Skip Nelson instead of Ray Eberle, which felt different, but Skip fit in well during his brief stint before Glenn entered the service.

When this album was released, Miller was in the AAF, and no one could have imagined he’d be lost later that year. It’s bittersweet in retrospect.

I look back on Smoke Rings as a key piece of my big‑band education — a curated sampler that opened doors, raised questions, and helped set me on the path I’m still walking today.

Thanks for strolling down memory lane with me.

Warehouse Whispers

Because it’s my job to wonder about such things, I’ve always been intrigued by the billing of the bandleaders on the album cover. It’s not in chronological order, but it’s not quite alphabetical either.

My take: the artists who were still under contract to Victor at the time — including Glenn Miller — are listed alphabetically first, with Larry Clinton and Benny Goodman appearing afterward. Clinton had left the music business to serve as a flight instructor for the AAF during WWII, and Goodman was recording for rival Columbia by then, so Victor didn’t have much incentive to promote them too heavily.

Look at me thinking like a 1940s record‑label exec!

Sundays with Duke #37 – Ivie’s Got It Bad

We remain in 1941 with Duke Ellington, settling in with another true Ellington classic: I Got It Bad (And That Ain’t Good).

🤸🏾Jump‑for‑Joy Genesis

Composed by Duke with lyrics by Paul Francis Webster, the song was introduced by the incomparable Ivie Anderson in the Ellington musical revue Jump for Joy. 

Naturally, the band hit the studio for Victor with Ivie to capture the magic:

She is in peak form here, wrapped in one of Johnny Hodges’ signature velvet-alto arrangements. 

The record became an instant hit, even finding its way into a Soundie:

It's always a treat to see the band in motion, and especially wonderful to see Ivie!

Duke kept I Got It Bad in the band's repertoire for years even after Ivie departed the band in 1942 due to health challenges. 

🎙️Black‑and‑White Brilliance

In 1946, as a solo artist, Ivie recorded this version for the Black & White label:

It’s a gift to have another reading of this tune from Ivie — a perfect showcase for her warmth and phrasing.

🎤 Aladdin After‑Hours

Al Hibbler brought a different texture to the piece during his time with Duke, and he leaned into that sound for his own 1946 session for the Aladdin label:

Anchored by Harry Carney's baritone sax, this date features a stellar lineup. Al, Harry, trumpeter Shorty Baker, and altoist Russell Procope were all moonlighting from the Ellington orchestra.

🎷 Newport Nightfall

Fast-forward to 1956. We return to the Newport Jazz Festival for a purely instrumental take released on Columbia, putting Johnny Hodges right back where he belongs: in the spotlight:

The crowd knows exactly what they are hearing, and they dig it!

🎼 Songbook Splendor

No retrospective on this tune would be complete without Ella Fitzgerald. Her 1957 Songbook sessions for Verve with Duke’s band are legendary, and this track is no exception:

Ella graces us with the rarely heard verse, and the extended arrangement gives Johnny’s alto yet another moment to glow.

📀 Popular Perfection

We keep the spotlight on Johnny in 1960 for this exquisite track from RCA Victor's The Popular Duke Ellington:

It’s a masterclass in economy and feeling.

🎺Satchmo's Spotlight

Then in 1961, Louis Armstrong sang and played this version with Duke as part of their Roulette sessions:

Trummy Young and Barney Bigard sat out this tune, so it's just Louis with Duke backed by Mort Herbert on bass and Danny Barcelona on bass. That's pure Satch!

🎵 Verve Velvet

Because there is truly no such thing as "too much" Johnny Hodges, we close our set with his 1962 Verve recording backed by Billy Strayhorn and the orchestra:

It's a sophisticated, wonderful farewell.

One thing's for sure: Ivie and Johnny may have "had it bad," but for us, that’s very good!

Sundays with Duke #36: Settin’ and Sittin’

As we stay parked in 1941 with Duke Ellington, we hit upon another classic Ellington–Strayhorn collaboration: Just a‑Settin’ and a‑Rockin’.

📀 Swingin’ into Summer ’41

The band recorded it for Victor in June, with Ben Webster featured on tenor sax:

That just moves along at such a relaxed, swinging pace, as if the band really is just a-settin' and a rockin'!

The other soloists are Ray Nance on trumpet, Barney Bigard on clarinet, and the unmistakable Tricky Sam Nanton on trombone.

📝 Lyric Lift & Title Twist

The tune was reasonably popular and stayed in the band’s book — but with a twist. Lee Gaines of The Delta Rhythm Boys added lyrics, the title shifted to Just a‑Sittin’ and a‑Rockin’, and unlike most of Duke’s retro‑fitted vocal numbers, he actually usually performed this one with the lyrics.

📻 Nance Nudges It Along

Although the band didn’t cut a vocal studio version at the time, it turned up frequently on radio broadcasts with Ray Nance handling the vocal. This 1946 aircheck with an extended arrangement is a great example:

It fits Ray beautifully, which likely explains why Duke kept it in rotation.

🎙 Capitol Curiosities

Studio recordings after that were sporadic. Duke and Ray revisited the tune for Capitol in December 1953 in a quartet setting:

An interesting take — unissued at the time.

Later that same month, the full band recorded another version, again with Ray on vocal, also left unreleased:

Hard to say why those two takes stayed in the vault, but they’re both worth hearing. Ray clearly loves singing it!

🌹 Rosie’s Rendition

Another shelved item: this 1956 track with Rosemary Clooney overdubbing her vocal:

It comes from the sessions for the Columbia album Blue Rose, though it didn’t make the original release. That's Buck Clayton with the snazzy trumpet work.

🎤 Ella’s Echo

For a version that did come out contemporaneously, we jump to Ella Fitzgerald’s 1957 Ellington‑adjacent take for Verve:

This comes from Ella’s Duke Ellington Songbook sessions — a small‑group setting rather than Duke’s orchestra — but we do get a welcome cameo from Ben Webster!

🎹 Billy Brings It Back

For the final word on the tune, we once again turn to Billy Strayhorn’s 1963 Reprise album The Peaceful Side for this lovely rendition:

I’ll say it again — very peaceful.

So the recording history of this tune ends up being a little sideways: a hit in 1941, a lyric added later, and a surprising number of versions that spent years just sittin’ in the vault before they finally got to rockin’.

Sundays with Duke #35: Take It!

As we step into 1941 with Duke Ellington, we hit one of the absolute crown jewels of the Ellington catalogue: Billy Strayhorn’s immortal Take the ‘A’ Train.

The band recorded it for Victor in February 1941.

Let’s spin it:

Everything about this record feels perfectly balanced — Duke’s attention‑grabbing piano intro, Ray Nance’s two bright trumpet solos, and Strayhorn’s subtle yet intricate backgrounds that glide underneath the melody.

It’s the performance that announced Billy Strayhorn’s arrival to the wider music world and confirmed Ray Nance as a worthy successor to Cootie Williams.

The tune was so well‑received that it became the Ellington band’s theme song, staying in heavy rotation from then on.

Out of the countless performances, here’s a distilled playlist of some of the most notable...

Broadcast Brilliance (1951)

First up is this revised arrangement from a 1951 radio broadcast spotlighting Paul Gonsalves on tenor:

It almost sounds like a different tune — leaner, cooler, and built around Gonsalves’ long‑line phrasing.

Uptown Unleashed (1952)

Gonsalves returns on this epic version from the 1952 Columbia album Ellington Uptown, also featuring vocalist Betty Roché:

The early LP format gave Duke room to stretch out, reinventing the song with extended solos and a more dramatic arc.

Newport Nostalgia (1956)

From the 1956 Newport Jazz Festival, we get a more traditional reading:

Ray Nance steps back in on trumpet, bringing that familiar sparkle.

Ella Takes the Train (1957)

Ella Fitzgerald once again joins with Duke and the band for her 1957 take from the Duke Ellington Songbook on Verve:

A blast of joy — Duke’s classic piano intro, Ella’s scatting, and the band’s playful train sound effects.

Duke in the Foreground (1960)

From Duke’s 1960 Columbia album Piano in the Background:

Despite the album title, Duke’s piano is very much in the foreground, and it’s wonderful.

Piano Royalty Meets (1962)

Staying with Columbia, here’s a track from Duke's 1962 album that teamed his band with Count Basie's band — First Time! The Count Meets the Duke:

Two titans in one studio — yet both leaders let Billy Strayhorn take the piano solos. A quiet, unmistakable sign of respect.

Ray Nance trades trumpet lines with Basie's Sonny Cohn just to keep things fair!

A Popular Performance (1966)

We wind up with Duke’s 1966 RCA Victor album The Popular Duke Ellington, which appropriately leads off with Take the "A’" Train:

Twenty‑five years after its initial departure, the train still sounds fresh!

A Cinematic Closing  — Hollywood Gets on Board (1943)

As a bonus, here's a fun clip from the 1943 Columbia picture Reveille with Beverly:

There’s young Betty Roché singing and Ray Nance showing off some dance steps. The band is shown performing on a railroad train — even though the real “A” Train was a subway line. The story goes that Duke told Strayhorn to “take the A Train” to reach his home in Sugar Hill.

Good thing Billy made the trip!

Sundays with Duke #34: The Flamingo Takes Flight

We stay parked in 1940 for one more Ellington jewel — Flamingo.

This tune didn’t come from Duke or anyone in the band. It was written by Ted Grouya (music) and Edmund Anderson (lyrics), two writers Duke had just signed to Tempo Music, his new non‑Irving Mills publishing company. He needed fresh material fast: beginning January 1, 1941, radio stations were set to ban all ASCAP‑controlled songs. Duke — and most major composers — were ASCAP members. Suddenly he needed non‑ASCAP songs in the book, and he needed them yesterday. Enter Grouya, Anderson and Billy Strayhorn.

Duke handed Flamingo to Strayhorn to arrange, and the band recorded it for Victor in November 1940, with Billy at the piano and Herb Jeffries floating that dreamy vocal over the top.

Let’s spin it:

That’s a tremendous record. It doesn’t sound like anything else — not in 1940, not in any decade. Herb’s voice doesn’t just sing the melody; it threads itself through the arrangement.

Herb was also a singing cowboy!

And Herb himself was an interesting character: Duke’s first regularly featured male vocalist, he lived to be 100.

I first heard Flamingo on a Reader’s Digest big‑band compilation ages ago, and it jumped out immediately. Johnny Hodges’ alto solo especially — nobody else sounded like that.

The record became a major hit in 1941 and even found its way into a Soundie:

Always fun to see the band!

After Duke's original version hit, plenty of covers appeared, but let’s stay close to the Ellington universe for now.

1944 — The Trio (Signature Records)

Now let’s jump ahead — clean needle drop — to 1944. Here’s an instrumental version credited to The Trio: Eddie Heywood (piano), a young Shelley Manne (drums), and — crucially — Johnny Hodges on alto.

A very cool take. Johnny gets room to stretch out compared to his brief but unforgettable 1940 solo. It’s Flamingo with the spotlight tilted just a little differently.

Herb Keeps His Signature Tune

Flamingo suited Herb Jeffries perfectly, so he kept it in his repertoire after leaving Duke in 1942. He recorded it several times, each one a little postcard from wherever he was musically at the moment.

1950 — Exclusive Records

This 1950 version is from Heb's Magenta Moods album for the Exclusive label:

Nice backing from Buddy Baker — lush, late‑night stuff.

1952 — Coral Records (with Les Brown)

Then Herb teamed with Les Brown and his Band of Renown for this 1952 Coral release:

A lovely version — Les’s band earns its “Renown.” Herb sounds relaxed, confident, like he knows exactly how this tune fits him.

1951 — The Billy Strayhorn Trio

We slide back a year for an instrumental version by The Billy Strayhorn Trio — Billy and Duke sharing piano duties, with Wendell Marshall on bass. Same Mercer release that included their Cotton Tail duet.

Always fascinating to hear Billy and Duke trading piano lines. It’s like watching two master painters sketch the same subject from opposite corners of the room.

1953 — Duke Ellington (Capitol Records)

And now we jump forward again — new label, new decade, same bird — to Duke’s full‑band instrumental version for his 1953 Capitol album Premiered by Ellington:

That’s (of course) Ray Nance on violin and Paul Gonsalves on tenor. Johnny Hodges was leading his own band at the time, between Ellington stints.

That's an interesting early concept album — songs that Duke introduced and/or popularized, but didn't compose.

1954 — Al Hibbler (Norgran Records)

We close with Al Hibbler, who sang Flamingo many times with Duke after replacing Herb Jeffries as the band’s male vocalist. His 1954 version comes from Sings Duke Ellington on Norgran:

Al sings it straight, clearly drawing from Herb’s original phrasing — and he sounds terrific. It’s a respectful, confident reading, like he’s stepping into a suit tailored by someone else but wearing it well.

The Flamingo’s Flight Path

So there’s our little aerial tour of Flamingo — from Herb’s original glide to Hodges stretching out, to Strayhorn and Duke at the piano, to Hibbler’s elegant tribute. A tune that kept finding new thermals to ride.

Tomorrow, we’ll catch even more versions and let this bird keep flying!

Monday Side‑Session: Two More Dreams

Following yesterday’s Day Dream — which began life as an instrumental from a Johnny Hodges–led unit inside the Duke Ellington orchestra — let’s spin a couple more dreams from the small groups.

These sides were recorded in 1939 while Duke was still under contract to Columbia, but they didn’t hit the shelves until 1940, after he moved to Victor. That little overlap period produced some of the most relaxed, beautifully lit small‑group moments in the whole Ellington universe.

Just Another Dream — Barney Bigard (Okeh, June 1939)

This one is exactly what the title promises: Just Another Dream, carried almost entirely on Barney Bigard’s clarinet. It’s practically a solo feature from start to finish — a soft, wandering little reverie with Barney’s tone floating like a lantern in a quiet room.

Dream Blues — Johnny Hodges & (Vocalion, September 1939)

Then Johnny steps back in for Dream Blues, and his alto does what it always does: it brings the dream, and it brings the blues. Hodges could make even a simple phrase feel like a velvet curtain being pulled open.

These small‑group sides always feel like a gift — a chance for the individual sidemen to stretch out, breathe, and let their personalities shine without the full orchestra swirling around them.

Musician Roll Call

Both tracks use nearly identical instrumentation, with the spotlight shifting depending on who’s leading the date:

• Barney Bigard group (June):
  Rex Stewart (cornet) and Juan Tizol (valve trombone) support Barney’s clarinet.

• Johnny Hodges group (September):
  Cootie Williams (trumpet) and Lawrence Brown (trombone) join Johnny’s alto.

And anchoring both sessions:

• Harry Carney — baritone sax, the bedrock

• Duke Ellington — piano

• Freddy Guy — guitar

• Billy Taylor — bass

• Sonny Greer — drums

A dream team for dream tunes!