Rabbit Holes

Although King Oliver's Creole Jazz Band was indubitably led by Joe Oliver himself, this deluxe box set, marking the centennial of the band's recorded debut, focuses on its second cornetist, Louis Armstrong, who was making his own debut. These landmark jazz recordings, nearly the first by a black band from New Orleans, had a profound impact on the jazz that came afterward. They were recorded acoustically, without the use of electricity, and previous reissues have suffered from terminal murk, to the point that individual horn lines could hardly be discerned. Richard Martin and the Archeophone label have done an outstanding job of restoration, rendering the instrumental parts with remarkable clarity.

Not content with that, the label presents the complete 1923 King Oliver sessions in the order of their original release twice in the same box, once on two CDs and again on two LPs, then adds two CDs of non-Oliver material and a large book containing photographs, discographies, extensive liner notes, and a poster. The first non-Oliver disc includes records that Armstrong (but not Oliver) is known or assumed to have listened to. The second includes sides that may have influenced or been influenced by Oliver and his musicians, especially Armstrong.

Recorded for four different labels—Gennett, OKeh, Columbia, and Paramount—the 37 King Oliver tracks represent an early form of jazz, featuring simultaneous improvisation instead of extended solos. Armstrong takes a handful of hot breaks but mostly plays behind or beside Oliver, his idol and mentor, 20 years his senior. While Oliver blows his muted cornet directly into the recording horn, the brighter-toned Armstrong stands in a corner of the studio so as not to overshadow the leader.

The opening song, "Dipper Mouth Blues," named after Armstrong's pre-Satchmo nickname, is perhaps the most exciting and influential of the lot. Beginning with a distinctive diminished chord, the band struts high-spiritedly through the contrapuntal theme before Johnny Dodds takes an exuberant clarinet solo. After Armstrong plays a single chorus, Oliver, using a plunger mute, wah-wahs his way to the deep bottom of the blues. The flip-side composition, Armstrong's "Weather Bird Rag," is also well-known, mainly because he later recorded a celebrated duet version with Earl Hines; here it's heard as a sparkling ensemble piece. Not until "Chimes Blues," the B-side of the band's fourth release, does Armstrong play a genuine solo, and it's a sizzler.

Among the many highlights are "High Society Rag," a jazzy adaptation of a straight-ahead march included on the third CD, and two renditions of the rollicking "Snake Rag." The romping "Alligator Hop" and "Chattanooga Stomp" display the band at its hottest. Later sides tend to be more tightly arranged, while maintaining enough musical elbow room to allow the players to swing, which they do with gusto on tracks like "Riverside Blues" and "I Ain't Gonna Tell Nobody."

The liner notes emphasize Armstrong and Oliver and give short shrift to Johnny Dodds and Jimmie Noone, two of the most important New Orleans clarinetists, who are at least as prominent in the mix as the cornetists, often soloing and sometimes playing the lead. Other band members are similarly slighted, but some credit is given to Lil Hardin, a fine composer and pianist, who would marry Armstrong in 1924.

The third CD is a ragbag of Armstrong influences, from opera arias to a Yiddish lullaby. Some selections are pertinent, such as classical cornet virtuoso Herbert L. Clarke's "Carnival of Venice" or operatically trained pop singer Henry Burr's "The Holy City," a theme of which is incorporated into Oliver's "Canal Street Blues" and "Chimes Blues." But others, such as Al Jolson's "That Haunting Melody" or John McCormack's "It's a Long, Long Way to Tipperary," seem a bridge too far. Dating as far back as 1891, the tracks on this disc, entertaining and informative as they may be, serve to showcase the restoration process as much as the music itself.

More to the point, the fourth CD offers recordings made between 1920 and 1923 by contemporaries of the Creole Jazz Band, including six takes on numbers also found on the Oliver discs. "Krooked Blues," done by Oliver as a wailing instrumental, is heard as a vocal number by Roberta Dudley with Kid Ory's Sunshine Orchestra, recorded in 1922 at the very first session by a black band from New Orleans. "I'm Going Away to Wear You Off My Mind," by the Original Memphis Five, a white group that followed in the wake of the Original Dixieland Jazz Band, is tighter and brighter but less spontaneous-sounding than Oliver's slightly earlier version. Oliver gives Jelly Roll Morton's composition "London Blues" more pizzazz than Morton does in his own rendition, recorded the same month as Oliver's. Also featured is the ODJB's swaggering interpretation of "St. Louis Blues," with a Larry Shields clarinet solo that influenced Johnny Dodds.

Given the limited dynamic range of the acoustic recordings, the audio falls well short of high fidelity, even if you can ignore the pronounced background hiss, but the instrumental parts are clear and distinct. The different labels' mixes, if you can call them that, are highly uneven, the volume of each musician varying from track to track. Due to the limitations of the recording method, drummer Baby Dodds, Johnny's younger brother, is relegated to a wood block, cymbal, and Chinese tom-tom, while slap-bass pioneer Bill Johnson plays banjo instead of double bass, although the acoustic horn captures Charlie Jackson's bass saxophone well enough. Less lucid than the CDs, the LPs are eminently listenable, necessarily lacking the heavy bass of many of today's vinyl pressings. The excellent restorations reflect up-to-date computer techniques. One can only look forward to the soon-to-come use of AI.