When a gentleman (Monty Woolley) is forced to retire at age 65, he'll do just about anything to beat the system. Dying his hair black, he poses as the president of his former employer's holding company. Suddenly free to air his views on everything from company policy to national economics, comic craziness ensues when he meets not only the firm's top executives, but someone equally impressive - a beautiful secretary, played by Marilyn Monroe, in one of her first and funniest roles.
1951-1952 (2003). In response to shortsighted comments implying that Stan Getz and Zoot Sims sounded too much like each other and too similar to Lester Young, Ira Gitler liked to use the analogy of "…a friend calling you on the telephone. You know who it is immediately. It's the same thing when you hear a musician play." The secret, of course, is to listen so carefully and consistently that you feel as though you have become a friend of the artist. This sort of empathy is a vital ingredient in jazz - the empathy between composers, players, and listeners. Hearing Stan Getz recorded live in performance at Boston's Storyville club on October 28, 1951, spells it out marvelously. Backed by pianist Al Haig, guitarist Jimmy Raney, bassist Teddy Kotick, and drummer Tiny Kahn, Getz sounds as though he has arrived at a hard-won maturity…
Alongside Willie Mae Ford Smith, Sister Rosetta Tharpe is widely acclaimed among the greatest Sanctified gospel singers of her generation; a flamboyant performer whose music often flirted with the blues and swing, she was also one of the most controversial talents of her day, shocking purists with her leap into the secular market – by playing nightclubs and theaters, she not only pushed spiritual music into the mainstream, but in the process also helped pioneer the rise of pop-gospel…
The first disk surveys film music from the thirties and forties; jazz was no longer "jungle music" (i.e., ludicrously termed as "non-white" music), but still "youth-oriented," as the liner notes assert. Off the bat, the best track is most certainly the eighth, Artie Shaw's all-too-brief Nightmare (from MGM's Dancing Co-Ed).