A classical fan was heard to say the other day that he didn't like swing because he liked his music slow and easy." That is a very interesting quote, since the best swing music is played slow and easy. Somehow, and with the aid of Benny Goodman, the general misconception has arisen that music only swings when played loud and fast. That is not true. The things that the good swing musician tries to attain are relaxation and sincerity of expression. The idea of technique is secondary in jazz; that's why a good swing piano man doesn't like Art Tatum's work--a lot of octaves which when finished don't mean anything, don't convey any emotion, and could have been played twice as fast by Paderewski anyway. The true swing man tries to express sincerely, cleanly, and simply at all times the emotions and ideas which he feels. If you play fast, or loud, you stiffen up. The result is no swing.

It is in regard to the above that I find Red Norvo's band to rank with Jimmy Dorsey and Bob Crosby as the best white band in the country. Norvo himself is superb, plays delicate expressive solos that cut right through you while at the same time managing to yield fine swing. The band itself has that colored lag, playing just behind the beat, that is so essential to good swing, while at the same time playing with a precision that few colored bands ever reach. Ray Noonan (trombone), Stewy McKay (tenor sax), and Buddy Christian (drums) all contribute to the fine jazz which this band turns out. Compare Norvo's records of "Remember", "It's Wonderful", "I Know That You Know" with the same by Goodman, Dorsey, and Krupa to see why Norvo (shifting to Vocalion records shortly) plays really great swing.

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This is the tale of a girl, a voice and some steak with mushrooms. It may sound like a weird combination, but some time ago this writer was taking a leave of absence in Boston, and happened to wander into the Raymor, where Larry Funk's band was playing. Someone was starting to sing "I Cried For You", but no one paid any attention until about three measures had passed. But those three measures and everything that came there-after made up some of the best jazz singing that I have ever heard--easy, unaffected, done with long, slow phrases like Mildred Bailey, yet with the same rhythm that Ella Fitzgerald puts into everything that she does. Instead of Ella and Mildred singing duets, all the musical commotion was caused by a young lady with a wide grin surmounted by a pug nose. Later, over the traditional musician's supper--steak and French fries, this astonishing miss proceeded without the aid of any band to sing a style of lilting jazz with a sincerity seldom heard, and with a real singing voice--with the power and tone all there.

A few days after this rather unusual swing concert, the band went down to New York where, with a little persuasion, a famous band leader listened to her, dismissed the girl he had hired only a month before, and hired Helen O'Connell as the feminine vocalist for Jimmy Dorsey and his orchestra.

This reviewer hopped a freight to New York for the opening, and was given the biggest thrill of his life by seeing Miss O'Connell make a tremendous hit with everybody. No one can be unaffected by the charm and beauty with which she sings. Add the fact that the lady is a genuinely good looking vocalist, and the sum equals another factor in Dorsey's rise to the top.