Erroll Garner
Complete Concert by the Sea

Liner Notes

Sixty years! Hard to believe for this Garner fan, who grabbed the LP when it was “hot off the press” – to coin a phrase. And what a treat it was to listen to that live performance by the master in top form.

Though, come to think of it, he never was in less than that. No matter where – within the confines of a nightclub, in a concert hall, at an open-air festival, in a recording studio – you encountered “The Little Man” (as Art Tatum fondly dubbed him – he was 5’4”) in action, he would hold you spellbound with the musical magic he could coax from a piano, an instrument he made sound like no player ever had before – or would again.

That sound, that conception, was strictly his own creation. Undeterred by teachers, he made his hands realize what he heard in his head, and that was the sounds and rhythm of a big jazz band. A child of the Swing Era, Garner conceived of the keyboard as a combination of a band’s horn and rhythm sections, rolled into a single voice. And his uncanny sense of time, his marvelous touch, and wide-open ears made that conception come alive. Once Garner had taught his fingers to do his bidding, he found such joy in making music that it became contagious. His was, as an album title proclaimed, the most happy piano.

My first encounter with the special sound and feeling of Garner came via radio, just a few days after arriving in New York, 17 years old and in love with jazz (the affair had dawned earlier at age 9 in 1938, when I heard and saw Fats Waller in Copenhagen). Naively, I thought that New York’s airwaves would be awash with jazz. No such luck. But late in the evening, I discovered a disc jockey with the unlikely name of Symphony Sid, purveyor of what he called “the modern sounds.” That’s how I first heard Dizzy and Bird, and (Sid got records pre-release), a brand-new Garner, a swift original, “Trio,” and a lovely ballad, “Pastel,” by the bassist Red Callender, who recalled their first encounter: “Never had I heard anything like it...we fell in love musically right away. It was like turning on a big light, a big bulb went off in my head...the beginning of one of the happiest experiences in my life.” Red gave up his own group to join Garner.

“Happy” is the word most often employed when Garner is remembered. It was impossible not to be uplifted when listening to Garner. Without saying a word, he would establish complete rapport with an audience, purely by musical means. From the wonderful teasing introductions from which you’d hardly ever guess the tune, to those special diminuendo-crescendo endings, between which a melody would be treated to the most inventive variations, unfolding like a tale, each song was a mini-drama. Garner never played short sets, and now, happily, we can hear the entire *Concert by the Sea*, unfolding like this master storyteller paced it. Of course the concert, in the days of the LP, had to be edited to available time, and the producers – Martha Glaser, the wonderful lady who, once she discovered Garner, devoted all her energy and knowledge and managerial skills to his cause, a blessing for his career and life; and George Avakian, the young veteran (he first produced at 20 and is still with us at 96) who found Garner to be the most astonishingly productive artist he’d ever worked with – also wanted to avoid repertory duplication with recent releases. For sure, they did a good job, but the complete concert is a revelation. Garner, as we know from his solo performances, didn’t really need a bassist and drummer, but they were helpful in keeping the pace, and he could indulge in those Basie grooves he liked. This was the great Denzil Best’s only recording with Garner; he died much too young, at 48 in 1965. It was bassist Eddie Calhoun’s very first with Garner; he would remain for 11 years.

Too many highlights to mention, but how about the opening “Night and Day” with that inimitable ending; the tempo of “Sweet and Lovely,” getting a groove unlike anything heard in this day and age (Garner was a master of all tempos); the fun he has with the many allusions to “Humoresque” in “Lullabye of Birdland”; the fabulous swing and invention of “Will You Still Be Mine,” which compares interestingly with the 1953 studio version (a favorite of mine); the way he works with a triplet pattern on “I Cover the Waterfront”; and the wonderful swing and happy flow of “S’Wonderful,” and its great ending. And speaking of endings, “Caravan” surely is one that left them wanting more. As Garner always did.

Permit a few personal recollections. Newport, 1959: An unusual program, just two attractions (generally, there were quite a few), the Erroll Garner Trio and Duke Ellington and his Orchestra. Not known to be a disciplinarian, Duke requested best behavior of his men, warning them that Garner would be a hard act to follow, as Paul Gonsalves told me. Of course he was right – Garner was magnificent.

Last set at Mister Kelly’s, a Chicago nightspot favored by musicians. Garner had been using “Something,” his favorite Beatles tune, as a fairly brief get-off number (recorded as such), but this time, after a very mellow long set, he wouldn’t let go of it, putting it through the most amazing transformations.

And also in Chicago, where I had my sole fling with TV, as co-producer of a jazz series with the late Robert Kaiser, a director with a wonderful sense for the music. Thanks to Martha, we got Garner. These were half-hour shows, in a simulated nightclub setting, which Garner liked. We usually discussed the program, going over repertory (there was no host or voiceover, artists announcing the tunes, which of course was not applicable to Garner). We told Garner that he and his quartet (by then he had the conga drummer Jose Mangual) had 28 minutes of playing time, and expected some questions, but Garner just said, “I gotcha,” sat down at the piano (the mandatory phone books placed on the bench), and proceeded to produce a perfect program, never looking at his watch but coming out exactly on time. A genius!

George Wein, a pianist himself, said it well: “There was only one Erroll Garner and it would help every jazz pianist if they paid a little more attention to his talent and creativity.” Amen. Maybe this most welcome and happy discovery and resurrection will do the trick!

Sixty years! Hard to believe for this Garner fan, who grabbed the LP when it was “hot off the press” – to coin a phrase. And what a treat it was to listen to that live performance by the master in top form.

Though, come to think of it, he never was in less than that. No matter where – within the confines of a nightclub, in a concert hall, at an open-air festival, in a recording studio – you encountered “The Little Man” (as Art Tatum fondly dubbed him – he was 5’4”) in action, he would hold you spellbound with the musical magic he could coax from a piano, an instrument he made sound like no player ever had before – or would again.

That sound, that conception, was strictly his own creation. Undeterred by teachers, he made his hands realize what he heard in his head, and that was the sounds and rhythm of a big jazz band. A child of the Swing Era, Garner conceived of the keyboard as a combination of a band’s horn and rhythm sections, rolled into a single voice. And his uncanny sense of time, his marvelous touch, and wide-open ears made that conception come alive. Once Garner had taught his fingers to do his bidding, he found such joy in making music that it became contagious. His was, as an album title proclaimed, the most happy piano.

My first encounter with the special sound and feeling of Garner came via radio, just a few days after arriving in New York, 17 years old and in love with jazz (the affair had dawned earlier at age 9 in 1938, when I heard and saw Fats Waller in Copenhagen). Naively, I thought that New York’s airwaves would be awash with jazz. No such luck. But late in the evening, I discovered a disc jockey with the unlikely name of Symphony Sid, purveyor of what he called “the modern sounds.” That’s how I first heard Dizzy and Bird, and (Sid got records pre-release), a brand-new Garner, a swift original, “Trio,” and a lovely ballad, “Pastel,” by the bassist Red Callender, who recalled their first encounter: “Never had I heard anything like it...we fell in love musically right away. It was like turning on a big light, a big bulb went off in my head...the beginning of one of the happiest experiences in my life.” Red gave up his own group to join Garner.

“Happy” is the word most often employed when Garner is remembered. It was impossible not to be uplifted when listening to Garner. Without saying a word, he would establish complete rapport with an audience, purely by musical means. From the wonderful teasing introductions from which you’d hardly ever guess the tune, to those special diminuendo-crescendo endings, between which a melody would be treated to the most inventive variations, unfolding like a tale, each song was a mini-drama. Garner never played short sets, and now, happily, we can hear the entire *Concert by the Sea*, unfolding like this master storyteller paced it. Of course the concert, in the days of the LP, had to be edited to available time, and the producers – Martha Glaser, the wonderful lady who, once she discovered Garner, devoted all her energy and knowledge and managerial skills to his cause, a blessing for his career and life; and George Avakian, the young veteran (he first produced at 20 and is still with us at 96) who found Garner to be the most astonishingly productive artist he’d ever worked with – also wanted to avoid repertory duplication with recent releases. For sure, they did a good job, but the complete concert is a revelation. Garner, as we know from his solo performances, didn’t really need a bassist and drummer, but they were helpful in keeping the pace, and he could indulge in those Basie grooves he liked. This was the great Denzil Best’s only recording with Garner; he died much too young, at 48 in 1965. It was bassist Eddie Calhoun’s very first with Garner; he would remain for 11 years.

Too many highlights to mention, but how about the opening “Night and Day” with that inimitable ending; the tempo of “Sweet and Lovely,” getting a groove unlike anything heard in this day and age (Garner was a master of all tempos); the fun he has with the many allusions to “Humoresque” in “Lullabye of Birdland”; the fabulous swing and invention of “Will You Still Be Mine,” which compares interestingly with the 1953 studio version (a favorite of mine); the way he works with a triplet pattern on “I Cover the Waterfront”; and the wonderful swing and happy flow of “S’Wonderful,” and its great ending. And speaking of endings, “Caravan” surely is one that left them wanting more. As Garner always did.

Permit a few personal recollections. Newport, 1959: An unusual program, just two attractions (generally, there were quite a few), the Erroll Garner Trio and Duke Ellington and his Orchestra. Not known to be a disciplinarian, Duke requested best behavior of his men, warning them that Garner would be a hard act to follow, as Paul Gonsalves told me. Of course he was right – Garner was magnificent.

Last set at Mister Kelly’s, a Chicago nightspot favored by musicians. Garner had been using “Something,” his favorite Beatles tune, as a fairly brief get-off number (recorded as such), but this time, after a very mellow long set, he wouldn’t let go of it, putting it through the most amazing transformations.

And also in Chicago, where I had my sole fling with TV, as co-producer of a jazz series with the late Robert Kaiser, a director with a wonderful sense for the music. Thanks to Martha, we got Garner. These were half-hour shows, in a simulated nightclub setting, which Garner liked. We usually discussed the program, going over repertory (there was no host or voiceover, artists announcing the tunes, which of course was not applicable to Garner). We told Garner that he and his quartet (by then he had the conga drummer Jose Mangual) had 28 minutes of playing time, and expected some questions, but Garner just said, “I gotcha,” sat down at the piano (the mandatory phone books placed on the bench), and proceeded to produce a perfect program, never looking at his watch but coming out exactly on time. A genius!

George Wein, a pianist himself, said it well: “There was only one Erroll Garner and it would help every jazz pianist if they paid a little more attention to his talent and creativity.” Amen. Maybe this most welcome and happy discovery and resurrection will do the trick!