Secret History of Rock. The Most Influential Bands You've Never Heard Read Online Free Page B
Author: Roni Sarig
(1924) .
RAYMOND SCOTT
Don Byron, jazz clarinetist [from his notes to Bug Music (Nonesuch, 1996)]:
Jazz historians have chosen to understate the importance of [Scott’s band] in their histories of American music. The reasons for this rejection have much to do with [the band’s] overt interest in classical music. This music lives in a zone somewhere between jazz and classical music. [Scott’s group] accomplished this in a time when such a mix of influences was considered even more unusual than it is today.
Whether or not we realize it, we’ve all heard Raymond Scott’s music; his manic, colorful vignettes appeared in over one hundred Looney Tunes cartoons (accompanying Bugs Bunny, Daffy Duck, and the rest). His primary influence lies in the way his music has reached young television watchers and shaped the way that generations have perceived the relationship between music and motion.
Scott’s music is quintessentially modern. He was interested in mechanical sounds, even when made by humans. In his works, he took on the role of writer, arranger, player, conductor, engineer, and inventor, thus blurring the lines between composer, performer, and technician and creating a new paradigm for the roles a modern recording artist could assume.
By unapologetically injecting classical elements into pop and jazz, his music did much to relieve art music’s burden of seriousness and break down the lines between high and low. His greatest contribution to 20 th -century music was, ironically, also the reason for his relative obscurity. Deemed too classical (or else too goofy) for jazz and not sober enough for classical, Scott fell through the cracks of music history.
The son of Russian immigrants, Raymond Scott was born Harry Warnow in 1908 in Brooklyn. At school he studied to be an engineer, until his older brother Mark – conductor of the CBS Radio Orchestra – convinced him to pursue music. After attending Julliard, Harry became pianist in his brother’s band and changed his name to Raymond Scott (which he picked from a phone book) to avoid charges of nepotism. Scott soon craved further artistic control and recruited five orchestra members to form his Raymond Scott Quintette. Though the group was actually a sextet – with saxophonist, clarinetist, trumpeter, bassist, drummer Johnny Williams (father of Star Wars composer/conductor John Williams), and Scott on piano – Scott preferred the sound of the word quintet. (In 1994, Stereolab – also a sextet – would name their record Mars Audiac Quintet in tribute to Scott).
Between 1937 and 1939, the Quintette’s music appeared both on radio and in films. Songs like Powerhouse and The Toy Trumpet were fast and intricate, full of instantly gratifying melodies and caricaturesque instrumentation that makes them clear precursors to the hi-fi lounge sounds of Esquivel and Martin Denny. Evocative titles like Dinner Music for a Pack of Hungry Cannibals and Boy Scout in Switzerland complemented the whimsical, bizarre tunes. Though the music sounded closest to swing jazz, it borrowed classical melodies and was far too fast and disjointed for dancing. It became popular as novelty music, but was reviled by critics as fake jazz.
Tom Maxwell, Squirrel Nut Zippers:
What Raymond Scott did was completely off the wall, very fucked up tonally. He brought in this weird, machine-like feel to music that’s generally very loose and emotive. He was a nut out of left field who made sounds nobody else was making. Powerhouse kicks my ass; I love the changed times, the bizarre key, the weird drum breaks, the strange intervals, and it’s really fun. I definitely took a page from his book [when] I wrote this orchestral song called The Kracken.” It’s strange, angular jazz – but not bop – some other sort of 20 th -century sounding thing.
A perfectionist, Scott showed each musician exactly what to play and forbade any improvisation. In the studio, he pioneered the kind of creative techniques
RAYMOND SCOTT
Don Byron, jazz clarinetist [from his notes to Bug Music (Nonesuch, 1996)]:
Jazz historians have chosen to understate the importance of [Scott’s band] in their histories of American music. The reasons for this rejection have much to do with [the band’s] overt interest in classical music. This music lives in a zone somewhere between jazz and classical music. [Scott’s group] accomplished this in a time when such a mix of influences was considered even more unusual than it is today.
Whether or not we realize it, we’ve all heard Raymond Scott’s music; his manic, colorful vignettes appeared in over one hundred Looney Tunes cartoons (accompanying Bugs Bunny, Daffy Duck, and the rest). His primary influence lies in the way his music has reached young television watchers and shaped the way that generations have perceived the relationship between music and motion.
Scott’s music is quintessentially modern. He was interested in mechanical sounds, even when made by humans. In his works, he took on the role of writer, arranger, player, conductor, engineer, and inventor, thus blurring the lines between composer, performer, and technician and creating a new paradigm for the roles a modern recording artist could assume.
By unapologetically injecting classical elements into pop and jazz, his music did much to relieve art music’s burden of seriousness and break down the lines between high and low. His greatest contribution to 20 th -century music was, ironically, also the reason for his relative obscurity. Deemed too classical (or else too goofy) for jazz and not sober enough for classical, Scott fell through the cracks of music history.
The son of Russian immigrants, Raymond Scott was born Harry Warnow in 1908 in Brooklyn. At school he studied to be an engineer, until his older brother Mark – conductor of the CBS Radio Orchestra – convinced him to pursue music. After attending Julliard, Harry became pianist in his brother’s band and changed his name to Raymond Scott (which he picked from a phone book) to avoid charges of nepotism. Scott soon craved further artistic control and recruited five orchestra members to form his Raymond Scott Quintette. Though the group was actually a sextet – with saxophonist, clarinetist, trumpeter, bassist, drummer Johnny Williams (father of Star Wars composer/conductor John Williams), and Scott on piano – Scott preferred the sound of the word quintet. (In 1994, Stereolab – also a sextet – would name their record Mars Audiac Quintet in tribute to Scott).
Between 1937 and 1939, the Quintette’s music appeared both on radio and in films. Songs like Powerhouse and The Toy Trumpet were fast and intricate, full of instantly gratifying melodies and caricaturesque instrumentation that makes them clear precursors to the hi-fi lounge sounds of Esquivel and Martin Denny. Evocative titles like Dinner Music for a Pack of Hungry Cannibals and Boy Scout in Switzerland complemented the whimsical, bizarre tunes. Though the music sounded closest to swing jazz, it borrowed classical melodies and was far too fast and disjointed for dancing. It became popular as novelty music, but was reviled by critics as fake jazz.
Tom Maxwell, Squirrel Nut Zippers:
What Raymond Scott did was completely off the wall, very fucked up tonally. He brought in this weird, machine-like feel to music that’s generally very loose and emotive. He was a nut out of left field who made sounds nobody else was making. Powerhouse kicks my ass; I love the changed times, the bizarre key, the weird drum breaks, the strange intervals, and it’s really fun. I definitely took a page from his book [when] I wrote this orchestral song called The Kracken.” It’s strange, angular jazz – but not bop – some other sort of 20 th -century sounding thing.
A perfectionist, Scott showed each musician exactly what to play and forbade any improvisation. In the studio, he pioneered the kind of creative techniques
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