History can be a cruel and fickle arbiter. When it comes to the written record those remembered comprise a tiny minority when compared to those forgotten. In jazz, the differential is no less conspicuous. The process of natural selection necessarily raises certain surnames to iconic status while others submerge under the shoals of time. Pianist Dink Johnson’s case is a bit different. He had two shots at immortality- one forfeited, the other realized. As drummer in Freddie Keppard’s Original Creole Orchestra he narrowly missed the opportunity to take part in the very first jazz recording session. This thanks to Keppard’s fears that preserving his music on shellac would lead to rivals stealing his trumpet chops. The honor ended up going to the Original Dixieland Jazz Band, an all-Caucasian outfit, several years later.
Johnson’s second brush with perpetuity came nine years on in 1921 when he held the clarinet chair on Kid Ory’s records for the Sunshine label. These were the first jazz platters waxed in LA and are arguably the first employing an African American band. Sadly, the luster of Johnson’s early milestone faded in the following decades and by the 40s he was a slave to the bottle, eventually drinking himself to death in 54’. He appears to have played actively up until a few years prior to that all too common demise.
This new Delmark compilation reissues the contents of a November 1950 date originally released on vinyl through Paul Affeldt’s Euphonic Sounds label, with three previously unreleased numbers added. The disc also tacks on two tracks by pianist Russ Gilman that were originally mis-identified as being the work of Dink. The mistake seems odd given Gilman’s obviously more polished and, by proxy pedestrian, approach. Drummer John Joseph provides raw-boned rhythmic support for both men on all cuts.
Johnson sounds in good spirits throughout his eighteen-song recital, to the degree that spirits of another sort were presumably involved in the prep. Loose and limber at the ivories, there’s an extemporaneous feel to his delivery that’s immediately endearing. Rags and blues are the staples of the day and Dink charges through them with a surprising brio. His stabbing, jaunty stride runs on calcified tunes like “Kansas City Stomp” and “Twelfth Street Rag,” supply a badly needed personal stamp that levitates the music out of most potholes of predictability. On the former song he scats expressively along with his own staggered percussive lead as snare shots insert sparse punctuation. Johnson’s joyful eccentricities stand out boldly on other pieces like the just plain kooky “Pigeon Walk” where he gurgles amorously “You better wrap your wings around your love, baby, just like a dove.”
Joseph keeps things off-kilter too, striking sticks against sticks and bouncing tips off rims in a peculiar, responsive style that would make Cie Frazier proud. Wantonly capricious in spots, this music is at once a faithful invocation of a past era while simultaneously standing euphorically apart. Regardless of his rightful place in the jazz lineage, Dink’s name and visage probably won’t register much recognition in the minds of potential record buyers. That’s a damn shame considering the amount of earnestly entertaining music in abundance here.
.................................................. © 2003 - 2006 bagatellen ..................................................