Every decade in jazz had a predominant style. New Orleans-style jazz of the early 1920’s morphed into swing (1930’s) which then begat bebop (1940’s). The 1950’s saw jazz kicked off its perch as the predominant style of pop music, as the music fragmented into more styles. The bebop got harder and less inviting to new listeners, while “west coast” jazz promoted a new cool sound.

But there was another strand, one that doesn’t see much interest from modern listeners. What was happening in the 50’s with all those guys who were wet behind the ears in the 1920’s, hitting the big time in the 30’s and maturing into the jazz establishment in the 40’s? There is a lot of good stuff in this group, and I have found 3 very nice examples for your listening pleasure.

There is one more criterion I applied for today’s selections. Top names like Ellington, Basie and Armstrong are well known for their 1950’s output. So today we will look at three artists who, even at the top of their games, never quite cracked into the top two or three names in their style. They did, however, survive into the 1950’s (and beyond) by making some really satisfying records.

Harry James grew up in a family of circus performers and learned how to play the trumpet in a circus band led by his father. By 1937 he had gone from anonymous Trumpet Guy in hotel bands to Benny Goodman’s star trumpet attraction when the Goodman band was at its peak. James left to start his own band in 1938 (which was, incidentally, the first band to hire a young, unknown singer named Sinatra). James struggled financially until he became less focused on jazz and more of a pop band. Still, Harry James was one of the most technically proficient trumpet men of his (or any) era and could handle a wide range of styles. The big band era was well and truly over by 1953, but Harry James kept a band going when many others gave up, and brought it into the era of the LP album.

“Lush Life” was written by Duke Ellington’s collaborator Billy Strayhorn some time in the 1930’s, but was not played by the Ellington band until 1948 – and even then, Ellington failed to get it on a record. It is a beautiful ballad with a complex and sophisticated chord structure that supports lyrics about failed love as experienced in a booze-soaked haze of regret.

It appears that nobody had done the song as an instrumental track when Harry James selected the song in a 1953 recording session. This record shows Harry James at his best, alternating between quiet tenderness in the mellow lower registers of his trumpet and his strong, clear sound where the song hits its emotional peak. The song has gone on to become a great jazz standard, with this version often being ignored. But not today, because it is a lovely rendition of a lovely song. (1)

Eddie Heywood was another second generation musician. His father, Eddie Heywood, Sr. had been a jazz piano player in the 1920’s and taught his son to play. Young Heywood found his way into the excellent band of Benny Carter in the 1930’s and then left to form his own outfit. After leading a big band for a short time, Heywood gravitated to leading smaller groups. His career was interrupted by a bout of paralysis of the hands in the late 1940’s, but he recovered and went back to the keyboard.

In 1955-56, Heywood collaborated with Hugo Winterhalter, who led what was essentially the “house orchestra” for RCA Victor records. His “Canadian Sunset” was a big hit from that combination of talented piano man and big, lush commercial orchestra. That same year, Heywood wrote another tune. This one was called “Soft Summer Breeze” and Heywood recorded it as a solo with rhythm for Mercury Records, and that is his contribution featured today.

Heywood’s relaxed style was always pleasing and he adapted it well to a sound that resonated with an adult audience of the 50’s. Although this was not as big of a hit record as “Canadian Sunset” was, it still managed to reach No. 11 on the Billboard charts, which was not bad in a year that was dominated by Elvis Presley and many other early rock and roll performers. Eddie Heywood is one of those artists who almost never comes to the front of my mind when I am looking for something to listen to. But after I stumble on him (for the umpteenth time) I never regret spending some time with his inviting style.

Gene Krupa was another alum from the Benny Goodman outfit of the 1930’s, and was probably the first jazz drummer to become really famous. After toiling in obscurity from the mid 1920’s, he joined Goodman in time for that band’s meteoric rise to the top of the jazz world. He left to form his own band in 1938, and was doing quite well until he was jailed on a marijuana charge in 1943. Upon his release he re-formed his band and continued to play as the big band format lost favor.

This selection is the latest of the three, having been recorded in late 1958 for an album released in early 1959 – Gene Krupa Plays Gerry Mulligan Arrangements. Gerry Mulligan, several years younger than today’s featured artists, was a pioneer in the cool West Coast sound of the late 40’s and early 50’s. Only here, he was responsible for writing the arrangements and leading the band instead of playing his trademark baritone saxophone.

Gene Krupa almost always played with spirit and inspired his bands to play in the same way. This up-tempo version of “How High The Moon” a great example of big band jazz from the latter half of the 1950’s. The tune is usually associated with bebop players, but Mulligan brings it (with a few boppish flourishes) into a fine balance that is both a little cool and a little hot. Notable sidemen on this album include Doc Severinsen (trumpet) and trombonists Kai Winding and Urbie Green.

All three of the artists featured today had long careers. Harry James reformulated his band in 1955 to give it more of a Count Basie flavor, and continued performing and recording right up until less than two weeks before his death at age 67 in 1983. Eddie Heywood suffered from and recovered from a second bout of paralysis, and made several albums through the 1960’s, and even a couple in the early 1980’s before his health declined and led to his death in January of 1989 at age 73. Gene Krupa died at age 64 in 1973, but like Harry James, was actively playing until shortly before he died. Although Krupa did not keep a band going the whole time, he performed and recorded regularly with multiple groups, many of which were led under his name.

Jazz performers come and they go, and most of the time they provide the rest of us with a lifetime output of great music. Each of these three did exactly that. While their names have not been well known for a few decades now, they provide three rich veins of jazz for those looking for things outside of the usual “1950’s jazz” orthodoxy. None of this was cutting edge music, but displayed the talents of three old pros who could still bring their A games to a recording studio long after the tastemakers went off in other directions.

(1) For anyone seeking a really satisfying early vocal version of “Lush Life”, Sarah Vaughn recorded a very good one in 1956.