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Vinyl close to VG+

Vinyl close to NM

Vinyl closer to NM

Vinyl close to NM

Vinyl closer to NM

Close to VG+

From 1932 to the late 1940’s the period covered by this set, Cab had an orchestra that was about as swinging a band of solid senders as you’d find on the big-band circuit.
Cab projects, in his singing on records, something of the vital magic of his stage presence, a boundless exuberance and enthusiasm. His orchestral backing during the Thirties and Forties included many well-known names in jazz. At various times, Milt Hinton, Danny Barker and Cozy Cole were in his rhythm section.The reeds included the late, great Chu Berry as well as Ben Webster. Dizzy Gillespie was in the band, some members of which, at odd moments, served as a laboratory for the style to be called Bop. »This whole new chord structure idea was interesting to me,« Milt Hinton recalled, »and I would walk the new chords behind his playing.« Cab wasn’t the least enthusiastic. Danny Barker quoted him as saying, »I don’t want you playing that Chinese music in my band.«
The main attraction, however, was always Cab—showman, singer, entertainer. Most audiences didn’t even know that some of his sidemen were candidates for the jazz hall of fame. And that was as it should be. The musicians’ first function was to provide musical backing and a musical setting for the man who was being called 'King of the Hipsters', and this they did, wonderfully well. It was as Barry Ulanov noted in Metronome (January, 1943) a band extraordinary in every respect, hailed for its »clean musicianship, its jazz kicks, its brilliant showmanship«.

Japanese pressing. 1976 reissue. With OBI.

»They’d been living in Europe for months. They’d appeared in Cannes and at Knokke (…) yet the only thing missing was the consecration that a great concert in Paris would bring. They won that last battle with astounding brio, in front of an audience of connoisseurs. There were many there who thought modern jazz had never been so well-served in Paris.« (Jazz Magazine). Hard bop had arrived! Hallelujah! On its first French appearance, in July ‘58 at the Cannes Festival – the first and only Cannes jazz festival – the Donald Byrd Quintet had brought the house down. Yet four of its five members were relatively unknown in France … The French knew that the leader had replaced Kenny Dorham in the Jazz Messengers, that Doug Watkins was the Messengers’ bassist, and that pianist Walter Davis Jr. was still only 18 when he’d played with Charlie Parker. As for Art Taylor, even if his name meant something to fans, it was still difficult for people to have a more precise idea of his musical qualities. Only Bobby Jaspar was well-known to Paris audiences, and the tour marked the return of the prodigal son, the musician who’d decided, after setting the Club St. Germain on fire, to try his luck in the States early in 1956 – J.J. Johnson had hired him, and then Miles Davis (for a short spell) before Donald Byrd brought him into the group he was taking to Europe. This new tour would climax at the Olympia theatre during one of the “Jazz Wednesdays” that were organised there, ever since the "Jazz At Carnegie Hall” tour – Zoot Sims, JJ. Johnson, Lee Konitz, Phineas Newborn – had inaugurated the series a little earlier. Byrd and his band took pains not to disappoint a Paris audience they knew to be particularly fickle, and they astutely varied the public’s pleasures throughout the evening. The complicity that united the rhythm section – Walter Davis Jr., Doug Watkins and Art Taylor – was much in evidence on Ray’s Idea; mistrusting the traps of the spectacular at all costs, Donald Byrd, producing brilliant inventions on the trumpet, took the lion’s share of the honours on a theme that was then much in fashion, "Dear Old Stockholm", adapted from a Swedish traditional song; on "Flute Blues", Bobby Jaspar proved he was still a specialist on that instrument, and Paul’s Pal showed that, on tenor, the playing of Sonny Rollins hadn’t gone unnoticed. It must be said that it didn’t have much effect on the discreet lyricism underlying the choruses he played during his “St. Germain” period. The Olympia spectators weren’t sparing in their applause for the five musicians. How else could they have reacted, faced with the fire the band showed during a tune like "The Blues Walk"? It wouldn’t take much for us to applaud, too, even if it is fifty-five years later…