Erroll Garner died thirty years ago, almost to the day. I don’t know whether the National Public Radio station I listen to was aware of that, but the past few days during morning news programming, the producers cued up a few seconds of Garner’s piano as transitions between local and national segments. The news was mostly grim, but Garner was full of cheer and optimism, as he was in life. Even in fifteen-second bursts, he got the day off to a good start. I cannot think of another jazz pianist after Fats Waller who made serious music with so much happiness.
Garner is not often mentioned these days in discussions of major pianists but, unquestionably, he was one. As when he was alive, the tendency among critics–but not among pianists–is to dismiss him as a naïf, an instinctual primitive who never learned to read music, as if reading music is more important than making it. He didn’t read because he didn’t have to. He didn’t learn the names of chords because the chords presented themselves to him before he knew they had names. In harmony, melody and rhythm, Garner was complete, and he was one of the few pianists who could improvise convincing variations based on melody lines alone. I don’t buy the argument that if he had learned to read it would have diluted his originality. Nothing could have done that. What would reading have done for him, brought him studio session work? He didn’t need it. He was a star before he was thirty, a huge popular success by the end of the 1950s, the only jazz musician the impresario Sol Hurok ever booked.
As a recording artist, Garner was remarkably consistent. I cannot recall one of his albums that was substandard, but it is easy to recommend one in which he has no moment that is less than inspired. It is his most famous, Concert by the Sea. The recorded sound is less than perfect, in fact notably less than perfect. The piano had not been visited by a tuner. It doesn’t matter. That night in 1955, Garner was a force of nature. Close second: Campus Concert, taped at Purdue University in 1964, also with his faithful sidekicks bassist Eddie Calhoun and drummer Kelly Martin. This one has a priceless back-to-back double-header “Lulu’s Back in Town” followed by “Almost Like Being in Love;” as much swing and joy as it is legal to pack into eight-and-a-half minutes.
To see Garner at work, visit this video clip from 1962, when he was at the height of his fame. Yes, that’s a telephone book he’s sitting on. He took the Manhattan directory on the road with him. It gave him just the right height. Watch Calhoun concentrating on Garner’s hands as he tries to anticipate what the boss is leading up to in his Rachmaninoffian introduction.
Have a good weekend.