Sundays with Duke #39: Billy’s Bridge

We stay in 1941 with Duke Ellington for one more session — this one giving us another classic from Billy Strayhorn: Chelsea Bridge.

The First Crossing

Let’s spin the Victor disc recorded in December 1941:

A lovely record, with Ben Webster’s tenor and Juan Tizol’s valve trombone floating through the mist.

In addition to composing and arranging the number, Billy plays piano and directs the band — a clear sign of how much trust Duke already placed in him.

The Lost Bass Line

Interestingly, the band had recorded an earlier version for the Standard Transcription service the previous January, with Duke at the piano:

What really jumps out here are the delightful bass passages from Jimmie Blanton.

It’s not clear why Duke waited almost a year to make a commercial recording — a rejected version was attempted in September — but by the time he did, Blanton had contracted tuberculosis and left the band shortly before the December session. Jimmie passed away the next July at just 23 years old — a heartbreaking loss for the music world.

Billy’s revised arrangement for the Victor recording has him playing piano in place of the bass solos, rather than giving them to new bassist Junior Raglin.

A Tune Ahead of Its Time

Chelsea Bridge was something of a slow burner — not a big splash at first, perhaps because listeners didn’t quite know what to make of its dreamy harmonic world. But it eventually became a standard and has been frequently recorded.

Bothwell's Signature Sound

The earliest cover seems to be alto saxist Johnny Bothwell’s 1945 recording for Signature:

Bothwell played a lovely alto — clearly influenced by Johnny Hodges — and his “Swingtet” for this session includes Harry Carney and Ray Nance!

LP Era Bloom — 1950s

Like so many slow‑burning standards we've visited, Chelsea Bridge blossomed in the LP era. Let's cross the bridge a few times with some highlights...

Big Ben Brings It

Ben Webster revisited it with this string-laden take from his 1954 Norgran album Music with Feeling:

Lots of feeling indeed — Ben’s tenor sound is pure velvet.

Marian's Magical Mood

Then in 1956, pianist Marian McPartland included it on her Capitol album After Dark:

Betty Glamann’s harp gives this one a celestial shimmer.

Pre-Peanuts Piano

Also from 1956 is this track from pianist Vince Guaraldi’s debut Fantasy album:

Vince is best remembered for his brilliant scores for the Peanuts TV specials, so it’s fun catching him with his trio a decade earlier.

Ella Strolls Across with Ben

Things always get intriguing when Ella Fitzgerald visits the Ellington songbook. She offers some lovely vocalese on this 1957 cut from her Verve sessions, with Billy sitting in on piano and Duke’s band behind her:

Nice to have Ben Webster back in the house for this one!

The Freshmen Go Latin

The vocal angle gets even more interesting in 1958, when The Four Freshmen recorded Chelsea Bridge with lyrics for their Capitol album Voices in Latin:

Apparently the lyrics were written by future Freshman Bill Comstock, who was a friend of current Freshman Ken Albers, specifically for this album. But since the lyrics weren't authorized by Billy Strayhorn or his publisher, only Billy got songwriter credit on the label.

I’m not sure why they went through all that trouble to include the non-Latin Chelsea Bridge on this album alongside Latin standards like Brazil and Frenesi, but, hey, it works!

Cat's Crossing

Back to instrumentals, Cat Anderson cut this very intriguing version for his 1959 album Ellingtonia on the Wynne label:

Ray Nance's violin lines adds a nice texture to the arrangement and Cat shows he didn't have to hit those stratospheric trumpet notes all the time!

A Peaceful Return

Billy brings the song back to its roots on his 1963 United Artists album The Peaceful Side:

I think I say this every time we visit that album, but it really is peaceful!

Duke's Island Crossing

We close in 1965 with Duke returning to the tune for his Reprise album Concert in the Virgin Islands:

Lovely as ever with Paul Gonsalves' gorgeous tenor sax!

That’s about 25 years of crossing Billy’s bridge — and it never gets old. Thanks for walking along with me!

Warehouse Whispers

There are a couple of different stories about where Billy Strayhorn found the title Chelsea Bridge. It seems certain that he was inspired by James McNeill Whistler’s painting Nocturne: Blue and Gold – Old Battersea Bridge.

One story says he mistakenly thought it depicted Chelsea Bridge.

Another says he knew it was Battersea Bridge but felt Chelsea Bridge simply sounded better for a song.

Billy was pretty smart — I vote for story number two.

Whistler's mother was unavailable for comment!

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 #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’.

Monday Side-Session - Taking the Train

For today’s side-session let’s hop back aboard with Billy Strayhorn as we Take the “A” Train for a few more stops.

1941: Cab and Glenn Catch the Ride

We kick off in 1941 with two contemporary covers that prove just how fast Strayhorn’s tune spread across the map once the Duke Ellington version hit.

First stop: Cab Calloway on Okeh:

Cab never imitates Ellington — he just swings his own way. Chu Berry on tenor, Dizzy Gillespie on trumpet, and Cab’s band sounding sharp as ever. He didn’t cut many instrumentals, so this one feels like a little treasure.

Billy May

Then comes, to me, the most fascinating contemporary cover of any Ellington hit ever: Glenn Miller on Bluebird:

Billy May turns the tune into a ballad — a sly, cheeky move, but also gorgeous. That Miller band could float a melody like nobody else - those reeds, the muted brass, a sensuous Tex Beneke tenor solo.

May and Strayhorn were old Pittsburgh pals, so you know they probably had a chuckle together over this arrangement.

1950: Tito’s Latin Express Line

Jumping ahead to 1950, Tito Puente on RCA Victor takes the train onto Latin tracks:

The label may say Tren Expreso, but that’s our "A" Train under the hood — bright, percussive, and full of Puente’s spark.

1954: Tex Swings the Standard Out West

Next stop: the Western plains with Tex Williams on Decca in 1954:

I’m a complete sucker for a big‑band standard played by a Western Swing outfit! It’s like the tune put on cowboy boots and decided to two‑step.

And Dance-O-Rama? I am so in!

1957: Jackie’s Velvet Ride

Back to the city for Jackie Gleason’s take from Velvet Brass (Capitol, 1957):

Velvety indeed — lush, slow‑motion brass with Toots Mondello gliding on alto. It’s the "A" Train dipped in gold leaf.

How sweet it is — Ralph Kramden never drove a bus this nice!

1960: Esquivel Goes Off the Rails

Then everything goes gloriously sideways with Esquivel for RCA Victor's 1960 album Infinity in Sound:

All the wild Esquivel touches — sound effects, stereo ping‑pong, space‑age sparkle, and that unmistakable sense of fun. It’s a carnival ride disguised as a train.

Count me in as a Hi-Fanatic!

1967: Homer & Jethro Play It Straight

One last stop: Homer and Jethro from their 1967 RCA Victor album It Ain’t Necessarily Square.

Not square at all — they play it straight, and it’s fantastic! Jethro Burns’ mandolin is brilliant — clean, quick, and full of personality.

Their novelty records were funny, but the musicianship was always dead serious.

Final Stop

A wild ride across decades, genres, and detours — but we’ll Take the “A” Train anywhere it leads us.

Thanks for the ride, Billy!

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!