Late Night Theme

When NBC started airing Late Night with David Letterman, I didn't get it. I thought the whole production, from intro theme to monologue to B-list guests to closing credits was a parody of a late night show rather than an actual show itself. I thought that Musical Director Paul Shaffer was this weird, little person whose weird, little jam music used chord progressions I couldn't understand and an alphabet I couldn't pronounce. The Johnny, Ed, and Doc format had needed an update, a fresh successor, but whatever this show was, it wasn't it.

Man, was I wrong -- especially about the music. What changed my mind? Familiarity over time, for one thing. Youthful sounds of new bands often seem like simplistic, trashy noise in the moment of their creation but later stand as era-specific anthems.

Take Paul Shaffer's composition, "Late Night Theme", which opened every Letterman show in the show's NBC era. Nominated for a Grammy Award, this lead-in fanfare initially struck me as overwrought bombast, a carnival barker's catcall that oversold the host's deadpan visage, comedic gestures, and camera mugging. That was the joke. Everything was amplified as a promise of extraordinary wonderfulness; everything thereafter was a letdown from the promise, and that letdown was played to humorous effect.

So much for pathos; but then...

I attended a Milwaukee Bucks NBA game sometime in the late 1990s. The house band entertaining the crowd during the pregame warm-ups was local jazz saxaphonist Warren Wiegratz and Streetlife, his feel-good party band. What did I hear cranking up slowly but the intro strains of "Late Night Theme". Its funky, slouching, cakewalk rhythms slowly took hold of the arena, and me with it. With its street-shuffling beat and ample set-up for instrumental solos, I heard the music on its own terms for the first time -- and this was the full 4-minute version, not the 90-second, TV-length intro. It astonished me how elated I felt; rarely do I grin when listening to what I previously would have called filler music, but Wiegratz and company absolutely nailed it.

I learned later that Paul Shaffer also served as Musical Director for The Blues Brothers movie, which between comedic passages presented an ecstatically devoted tribute to rhythm and blues music as a uniquely American art form. High-profile, brilliant musicians, from James Brown to Aretha Franklin to Ray Charles to John Lee Hooker, and many more, carried the movie alongside Belushi's and Ackroyd's stylized low-lifes on their "mission from God." The real mission was that they'd brought this wealth of All-Star talent together to play a Hall of Fame performance for a new audience -- and as Musical Director, Shaffer had everything to do with that, from recruitment to song selection to arrangements to control of diva eruptions. He's not just a weird little man, it seems; he only plays one on TV.

Three decades or so later, I look back with admiration on the musical guests Letterman and Shaffer have brought onstage to jam with the stage band, both at NBC and CBS. Some nights they strike out, but other times they have iconic players and acts -- the late Warren Zevon, Dave Grohl and the Foo Fighters, and David Sanborn are three that come to mind immediately.

I've learned not to judge the musical gifts that are placed before me on the screen; if Letterman, or Conan, or Austin City Limits puts on a strange new performer or band of indeterminate genre, I might well turn it down -- or I might also listen a bit more closely. What sounds like noise today could keep me bopping down the street, at the Motor Vehicle Bureau, or in the doctor's waiting room, in a very few years. Bring it on!

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CORRECTION (May 20, 2015): This blog's fact-checker (me) failed to depict Paul Shaffer's short tenure as Musical Director for The Blues Brothers movie accurately. Shaffer was let go from the film early on due to scheduling conflicts during production, reportedly at the behest of comedic star John Belushi. I've let this essay stand as originally written, but note the factual error for the benefit of this blog's several readers.

You Never Can Lose, You Always Win

I'm not a jazz musician on a Saturday night bandstand. I don't have the talent to improvise nine or ten riffs around a recognizable theme before powering up with a Big Band flourish on the last verse while the beloved, Italian-American bandleader croaks out the familiar lyrics, wails out the climax, and takes a warm bow to scattered applause in the room.

But if I were, I'd arrange an 8-minute jam to the Schenectady Savings Bank's 30-second television commercial of the 1960's and 1970's, the one that's still lodged in my cranium like a crowbar:

          Get the most,
          Get the most,
          At Schenectady Savings Bank!
          It's the most,
          Yes the most,
          That's Schenectady Savings Bank!
          You never can lose, you always win
          When Schenectady's the bank you keep your money in!
          Get the most,
          Get the most,
          That's Schenectady Savings Bank!

God forbid this should be the last tune going through my mind when I pass away, but based on the commercial's reach and frequency when I was growing up, not to mention its penetrating melody and vocal harmonies, I wouldn't bet against it. It's not a bad little tune, actually; the syncopation is rather catchy. I'll take it over that cloying, ubiquitious Jared Jewelers jingle anytime. A toast to the composer -- wherever he may be banking now.

As for the lyrics: the careful observer will notice that there's some serious public policy embedded in the song's bridge, resulting in today's claims in perpetuity on taxpayer dollars. I'll bet Bernanke and Geithner wish they could musically improvise on that "never can lose" line right about now.

Schenectady Savings Bank eventually merged with Hartford Federal Savings & Loan in 1982; the combination was federalized and renamed Northeast Savings. Northeast Savings was bought out by Shawmut National Corp. in 1994; which merged into Fleet Financial Group in 1995; which in turn merged with BankBoston -- itself a 1996 merger of the Bank of Boston and BayBanks -- to form FleetBoston Financial in 1999. All of which was acquired by Bank of America in 2004.

In 2009, Bank of America, too big to fail, received $20 billion of taxpayer money and $118 billion in government guarantees against toxic assets.

Get the most? I'll say!

Aziza Mustafa Zadeh: Jazz and Tiramisu

Have you ever happened across a performer at a quick glance and been captivated instantly with his or her musical art? Such occurred with me about fifteen years ago, when I heard jazz artist Aziza Mustafa Zadeh, an Azerbaijani singer and pianist, for the first time on a Deutsche Welle cable program. Luckily that show was repeated, and I was able to catch her name. I've enthusiastically followed her music and career ever since.

Daughter of Vagif Mustafa Zadeh, a Soviet-era jazz musician who performed at personal hazard behind the Iron Curtain, Aziza also learned from her mother Eliza, an opera singer. Her etherial tonalities are an exotic blend (to the Western ear) of "mugam" scales, evoking a vaguely Arabic or Islamic sensibility, and American jazz riffs and chord progressions. Her tranquil instrumentals featuring this "double jazz", in her father's parlance, are entrancing mood pieces that could serve as the national soundtrack for her homeland, while her faster compositions display her technical virtuosity.

Aziza's incredible, classically trained vocals incorporate influences from mugam to opera to scat-singing jazz improvisation. It is the range and breadth of her vocal talents -- a haunting melody in one phrase, percussive clicks in another, leading to an operatic, high note climax -- that captivate the listener and distinguish her music from garden-variety Eurojazz.

Her most accessible work for fans of American jazz standards is Jazziza, an album of recognizable jazz songs arranged with her own ethnic stylings, sensibility, and wit. Her humorous take on Dave Brubeck's classic, "Take Five", presents her full-throated, operatic voice at a feverish pace, mixing in syncopated scat-singing, articulate "pips" at the top of her range, and, in the album version, tight harmonies (with herself!) and musical puns -- such as the surprise drop-in of the opening tones to Beethoven's Fifth Symphony at a propitious moment.



Based in Germany, Aziza performs mainly in European cities. My beloved spousal unit and I, along with good friends living in Europe, had the high privilege of seeing her concert nearly ten years ago, in Schwetzingen Castle near Heidelberg. Shy in her stage conversation with the audience, her concert presented the full measure of her musical talents. The encore, she explained, was a bit of "dessert"; she altered the lyrics of her very fast, very brief scat song called "Moment" to include the musical refrain, "Tiramisu, tiramisu, tiramisu!"

It's my fervent hope that aficionados of world music and jazz on this side of the Atlantic will have the same opportunity to see her perform live, either solo or perhaps as the featured guest of a symphony orchestra. It will change your concept of what is possible musically. To North American musical directors and impresarios: may I respectfully recommend that you offer Aziza Mustafa Zadeh some tiramisu at the earliest opportunity.