Django 'n Duke

PAUL VERNON CHESTER

Manouche Maestro

Django 'n Duke

It is appropriate that 'Duke' Edward Kennedy Ellington one of the greatest of American composers and jazz musician should recognise the true genius of of this Belgian Gypsy that he identified after meeting him in 1939 then from recordings of the Hot Club Quintet and to place him rightly amongst the finest Musicians to be found in the USA - the Duke Ellington Orchestra. The humble but proud Gypsy had listened intently to American jazz recordings and adapted its format with his formidable technique to re-sell his own Manouche Jazz music back to the originators with European value added.

A dark part of Django's character was revealed when it was learned that Ellington invited Grappelli to tour America as well, but Django didn't tell him… from the different accounts, it looks as if Ellington invited the entire band, but Django basically accepted the invitation for himself.

Emile Savitry, an amateur guitarist, painter, and all-around bohemian. Savitry heard Django and his brother play in Toulon in the south of France, was impressed by their music, and invited them up to his apartment to play some new American jazz recordings, including some by Duke Ellington, Joe Venuti and Eddie Lang, as well as Indian Cradle Song by Louis Armstrong. According to Savitry's account, Django heard this and broke down, holding his head in his hands and exclaiming in the Romani language, "Ach moune," which means, "My brother." While it is an exclamation, in this case it had a secondary, ironic meaning. "Right away, he understood Armstrong. Right away, he preferred Armstrong's formidable playing over the erudite technique of the orchestra of Duke Ellington. Guided by an instinct of astounding precision, he was able to judge these musicians, almost instantly."

"Django's playing gave sound to the spirit of Jazz Age Paris. His lines of acoustic guitar notes were pure rapture, effervescent and evanescent, floating away with an unbearable lightness and transience of the moment, their fleeting beauty almost unbelievable. The genius of all his future music was in embryo in that one solo on Dinah." At the conclusion of the first recording of "Dinah," Django was so thrilled with his improvisations that he bumped his guitar against his chair as he finished his song, and this ugly noise was recorded, which appears at the end of the piece. The engineers wanted to throw the whole thing out and start over, but the Hot Club impresarios were quite happy with the improvisation-which was what mattered most to them-and convinced the engineers to keep this recording that eventually became so famous.

Django Reinhardt, the legendary French jazz guitarist of the 1930s and 1940s, came to the United States only once. He played his first U.S. concert in Cleveland. It was Monday night, November 4, 1946, at the Music Hall at East 6th and St. Clair. The headline in the Plain Dealer the next morning said, "French Guitar Artist Steals Duke's Concert."

Duke Ellington, who called Reinhardt "the most creative jazz musician to originate anywhere outside the United States," invited Reinhardt to come to the U.S. for a tour. Duke paid for his trip. The trip proved to be something of a culture shock. While the two legendary musicians had great respect for each other's artistry, they had trouble understanding each other's languages and habits. When Django arrived, his first words, in a combination of French and English, were, "Where's Dizzy playing tonight?" Django brought no luggage. He didn't even bring a guitar. According to Reinhardt's biographer, Charles Delaunay, Django believed American companies would compete with each other for the honour of presenting a guitar to him. He was wrong and had to buy a guitar when he got to the United States.

On the train trip from New York to Cleveland, Django shared a two-berth compartment with Ellington. The other members of the Ellington band were in a sleeping car. As they were getting ready for bed, Django was astounded to notice that the band members were wearing underpants with floral designs. In his limited English, he said, "You're crazy!" When he returned to the private compartment, he was about to joke with Ellington about it when he noticed Duke's underpants were even more gaudy than his musicians.' Later, Reinhardt asked some French friends to buy him some flowered pants.

In Cleveland, Django and Duke shared a suite at the Hotel Statler at East 12th and Euclid. Cleveland Press columnist Milt Widder reported that before they left for the concert, they had dinner in the suite. Django was again amazed when Ellington ate his dessert first. Widder quoted Duke saying, "I always eat my dessert first."

Reinhardt had only one brief rehearsal with Ellington before their concert in Cleveland. It was little more than a 20-minute "warm up" on the stage of the Music Hall. Duke, at the piano, asked Django, "What key do you want?" "Any key," said Django. Duke tapped his foot and the two all-time jazz masters just started playing. There was no musical conflict.

"At the start of the tour after Django and Ellington's very first rehearsal of their very first song, Sonny Greer's ear was caught by Django's playing. Stunned by the music, his response was succinct: 'Well, fuck my britches!'"

There had been very little advance publicity for the historic concert in Cleveland. There was only a small ad in the local papers that simply announced, "Elroy Willis presents Duke Ellington and his Orchestra at the Music Hall." There was no mention in the ad that Django Reinhardt would also be appearing. Milt Widder wrote the next day, "How the advent of Django Reinhardt escaped the local promoters is a mystery." Ticket prices for the concert ranged from $3.60 to $1.25.

The Plain Dealer reported that 1,800 people attended the Monday night concert at the Music Hall. But they had to wait for the music to begin. A baggage car, carrying the Ellington Orchestra instruments, arrived late, and the concert was delayed for about 45 minutes, to about 9:15.

But Glenn Pullen, writing in The Plain Dealer, said, "The faithful followers of the popular composer-bandmaster did not seem to mind the long wait. They were offered extra compensation in the form of Django Reinhardt, the noted French guitarist." Pullen said Django's first American performance soundly substantiated his reputation. Wrote the reviewer: "In the hands of this virtuoso, who resembles the screen's Adolph Menjou, an electric guitar acquires richer, magical qualities. His digital dexterity was remarkable, in intricate chords that were executed with such technical brilliance that the band musicians kept shouting, `Go to it, master!'"

Reinhardt played improvisations of "Tiger Rag," "Blues in E Flat," and a tune which even Ellington admitted on stage he was unable to identify.

Milt Widder wrote in The Press, "Duke Ellington came to Cleveland without fanfare and he gave his fans here the greatest treat in the annals of local jazz when he introduced in this country, for the first time, the hottest guitar player in the world."

After the concert in Cleveland, Reinhardt travelled with the Ellington Orchestra to Chicago, St. Louis, Detroit, Kansas City, Pittsburgh, and finally New York City where they played two nights (November 23 and 24) at Carnegie Hall.

There is a story that while the full band were waiting on stage at Carnegie Hall for Django - he was happily chatting enthusiastically to a Frenchman in a local bar - his priorities were clearly self centred, booze induced or child like.. If this is a stateside picture -judging by the Architecture - Django clearly had a suitable instrument of his choice..

Django rarely if ever played a solo the same way twice. Numerous recordings prove this to be true. His creative genius was not only that of the master improviser, but also that of the composer, and he can be credited with numerous pieces with beautiful melodies and sophisticated, subtle harmonic structures. However, Django could not read or write musical notation and he was at the mercy of others that could to get his ideas down on paper.

Dates included Cleveland, Ohio, Civic Opera House Chicago (Nov 10th 1946), Aquarium NYC, Carnegie Hall NYC

Django's first biography, called the American tour a failure. He had his reasons for calling it that, partly because he was left out of organizing it and being part of it, but also because it was such a bittersweet experience for Django. While on the one hand he had great success with Ellington's orchestra, on the other he had these naïve dreams of becoming a movie star and of recording with all the different American jazz stars-dreams that didn't come true during the three months he was in the United States.

Dregni Broadcast 2

Alas this would appear to be a 2 sided compilation and not a joint recording - did Django and Duke ever make a recording - ?

Yes They Did!

Prima: DC 01 & 02 - 2 LPs
Duke Ellington and His Orchestra with Django Reinhardt. r. Civic Opera House, Chicago, 10 Nov 1946.
Personnel - Taft Jordan, Cat Anderson, Francis Williams, Harold Baker, Shelton Hemphill, Ray Nance, trumpet; Lawrence Brown, Claude Jones, Wilbur de Paris, trombone; Jimmy Hamilton, Johnny Hodges, Russell Procope, Al Sears, Harry Carney, reeds; Duke Ellington, piano; Django Reinhardt, guitar; Oscar Pettiford, bass; Sonny Greer, drums.

According to biographer Charles Delaunay (son of the husband-and-wife painters Robert and Sonia), when Reinhardt mounted the stage to rehearse with Duke Ellington on November 18, 1946 in Cleveland, Ohio, the Duke asked him what key the tune was in. Django told him that he didn't understand what the word "key" meant. When they translated it for him, he told Duke to not worry about the key, just play.

A week later, Django was scheduled to play with Duke's orchestra at Carnegie Hall in an 8:30pm concert. As was so often the case, he was running on "Gypsy time" and showed up two hours late. Despite his tardiness, he thrilled the audience which gave him a grand ovation that occasioned 6 curtain calls. When Duke Ellington later asked him for an explanation, Django stated that he ran into boxer and fellow Frenchman Marcel Cerdan (husband of Edith Piaf) on the street. Happy to run into a countryman in a strange city, the two repaired to a café and chatted for over an hour.

This was typical of Django who when not playing before audiences enjoyed the carefree traditional Gypsy life. This included whiling away the hours in small talk with his extended family, playing billiards, fishing and driving along country roads. In 1949, after his career had entered a slump (partly the outcome of critics' anger at his Carnegie Hall lateness), he sold his Paris apartment, bought a Lincoln, attached a trailer to it, and head out to the open roads of France. Eventually he hooked up with a larger caravan that included his mother, who lived in an old Citroën that had been converted into a van. From his camps in the countryside, he'd venture into Paris for occasional gigs, always making sure to take some money from a fat wad of banknotes that he kept under his pillow.

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Last modified: 25/04/2008