True entertainers are gifts from above.
The best of them have dedicated their lives to their fans, to help spread joy to millions worldwide, and to make us feel, at least for a moment, just a little bit better.
Thus is truly the case with today’s subject. August 4, 1901 marks the recorded birthday of Louis Armstrong, arguably the single most important artist in the history of American music. The New Orleans-borne trumpeter—who grew up in an area so violent it was nicknamed “the Battlefield”—became the emblem for America’s musical genius, spreading his influence to almost every genre of our popular music.
Starting with King Oliver’s Band and then to his own ensembles, Armstrong took a local musical form, jazz, into an international phenomenon, introducing new methods of improvisation, phrasing, arrangement and vocal technique. His “scat” vocals, which intermingled jazz lyrics and improvised rhythmic sounds, became the basis for almost all vocal popular music today, from country to hip-hop.
Then there was his trumpet. I can hear Armstrong’s loud, direct, brassy trumpet anywhere and know it was his. Every time I hear it, I weep. Every time I hear his vocal recording, I’m in tears. No other artist has that effect on me.
I am not alone. Up until just before his death in 1971, Armstrong, known as “Satchmo”, “Satch” or “Pops” to his fans, entertained millions of people around the world. He was adored, often worshipped, as the jolly, magnanimous ambassador of America to places as far as Asia and Africa. His popularity was evident even as late as 1964, when Armstrong’s recording of “Hello Dolly” dethroned the Beatles from the # 1 spot on the Billboard pop music charts.
Yet he did not forget who he was, and the struggles that people of color faced. Many blacks in his era criticized Armstrong for being too “cozy” with white audiences, with being too complimentary to white sensibilities. Yet if you listen to Fats Waller’s lyrics from his famous 1929 tune “Black and Blue”, you may think otherwise:
“Cold empty bed…springs hurt my head.
Feels like ole Ned…wished I was dead.
What did I do…to be so black and blue?
Even the mouse…ran from my house.
They laugh at you..and all that you do.
What did I do…to be so black and blue?
I’m white…inside…but that don’t help my case.
That’s life…can’t hide…what is in my face.
How would it end…ain’t got a friend.
My only sin…is in my skin.
What did I do…to be so black and blue?”
In 1957, as the Little Rock Nine endured torrents of abuse in integrating Little Rock High School, Pops reportedly wired President Eisenhower the following: “If you decide to walk into the schools with the little colored kids, take me along, Daddy.”
Many today would argue that Michael Jackson was more influential, more important to music. With all due respect to Michael, there would be no King of Pop without “Pops.” Jazz, rock, rap, hip-hop, country, popular vocals, Latin music—there isn’t a single planet that wasn’t within Armstrong’s orbit.
Bing Crosby said of him, “He was the only musician who ever lived, who can’t be replaced by someone.”
Fellow musical titan Duke Ellington: “He was born poor, died rich, and never hurt anyone along the way.”
Documentary filmmaker Ken Burns: “Armstrong is to music what Einstein is to physics and the Wright Brothers are to travel.”
Miles Davis was more frank: “No him, no me.”
I wanted to include some recordings, some MP3s of Armstrong’s music, but many tracks are not as of yet in the public domain. If anyone in the Neighborhood has any links to free downloads of Armstrong’s recordings, please let me know.
In the meantime, here’s a video of Armstrong’s 1933 Copenhagen recording of “Dinah”, followed by Pops’ performance of “Hello Dolly” later in his career.
This Day in History 8/15: The Beatles’ 1965 Concert at Shea Stadium
Who brought out Shea Stadium‘s biggest crowd in 1965, perhaps in its history? Well, it certainly wasn’t the hapless Mets (with all due respect to Mets fans).
On August 15, 1965, Beatlemania reached on of its true zeniths, as the seminal British rock band The Beatles played in Shea Stadium, the Mets’ home field, for their second US tour. The band would play once more there the next year, and would never play in public again after that tour.
Over 55,000 people packed into Flushing to see the Beatles play on a small stage below center field. The noise was deafening, but not due to the music: the fans’ shouts and screams–as well as the distance of the band from the audience, meant nobody really heard much of anything. It was only when Ed Sullivan released a documentary of the performance that anyone actually heard the setlist.
Furthermore, the Shea concert began a revolution in live music, for both good and ill. Its massive profits proved to promoters that massive outdoor arena shows can indeed be good business. The subsequent decade, particularly into the 1970s, saw the rise of “arena rock” as bands with giant speakers and screaming guitars blasted their way through stadiums and outdoor venues.
However, the “arena rock” phase would often be criticized as formulaic, sterile and commercial. Ironically, it would prove to be the catalyst of a countermovement, punk, that re-captured the indoor rebellious spirit of rock.
Attached is Ed Sullivan’s introduction of the band, and their rendition of “Twist and Shout.” Believe me, be lucky this documentary exists: you would’ve heard nothing but the white noise of screaming adolescents if you were there.
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