Jazz History 1: Big Band & Swing

Long before the self-righteous had rock ’n’ roll to demonize, the Devil’s music was swing. In the late ’30s, the bluesy swoop of the saxophones and the sizzle of the cymbals on Glenn Miller’s “In the Mood,” and the jungle beat and serpentine riffs of Benny Goodman’s “Sing, Sing, Sing,” convinced parents the world was going you know where in a hand basket. Of course, it convinced their kids that the freedom they’d been longing for could be found on the ballroom floor. And by the time the swingin’ side of R&B rolled in after WWII on the pumping pistons of jumpin’ tracks like Louis Jordan’s “Choo Choo Ch’Boogie,” dancing themselves into a swirling, sweating frenzy felt like a better idea than ever.

Swing takes a trip around the world, in Next Steps.

The sounds of swing swelled in the ears of a generation dizzy from the dazzle of those cage-rattling rhythms and hot ’n’ heavy horn riffs. But the sound had a sleek, sophisticated side, as worldly as it was wild. Parisian hot-jazz heroes Django Reinhardt and Stéphane Grappelli wrap their guitar and violin, respectively, around the softly shifting shapes of “Nuages” (French for “clouds”), making gypsy-jazz history in the process. Alberto Dominguez penned “Frenesi” with Mexican marimbas in mind, but Artie Shaw laid a big-band treatment on the tune, turning it into a spicy, sensual new brand of Spanish-accented swing. And when Stan Kenton’s band picked up on Cuban classic “The Peanut Vendor,” you could feel the Havana heat pouring off those percolating congas and torrid trumpets.

Some swingin’ singers step up in Deep Cuts.

The big-band sound was about more than wailing woodwinds and brash blasts of brass; some of pop’s greatest voices started out in front of a swing band. A young Peggy Lee’s kittenish, come-hither croon pours like honey over the simmering flame of the Benny Goodman band on “Why Don’t You Do Right.” When the Chairman of the Board himself was just a skinny kid with big blue eyes and a crushed-velvet voice, he started making bobbysoxers melt by fronting Tommy Dorsey’s crew on heartbreakers like “I’ll Be Seeing You.” But the boys at the back of the bandstand were the ones that made things move, and the rhythm section gets its licks in on Bob Crosby’s bass-slappin’, tom-tom-thumpin’ instrumental hit “Big Noise from Winnetka.”

Swing started kicking into high gear in the ’30s, when everything from art to industry sped up to a supersonic pace, and the same old rhythms just couldn’t keep up with the whirlwind of the new world. The sound’s arrival was like a great big window being flung open, letting in a breath — no, make that a blast — of fresh air, an open invitation to dance, and ample encouragement for the unleashed libidos of a restless generation. In the bold, brassy hands of a big band in full flight, swing could be either a sweet or scorching thing. It lured lovers into each other’s arms with cooing clarinets and commanded a rush to the dance floor for the carefully choreographed flailing of arms and legs in syncopation with the beat. From the bluesy, boppin’ bonfire of Count Basie’s “Jumpin’ at the Woodside” to the uptown elegance of Duke Ellington’s “Satin Doll,” we’re serving up swing’s mightiest moments on a silver platter.