Few jazzmen can keep up with their own standards. Even the great Goodman, one of the most ardent perfectionists in the business, has turned out a pitifully large number of stinkers. It's easy to say, on the other hand, that all of Muggsy Spanier's records are good when they total only a dozen. It's also easy to say that even in Louis Armstrong's worst numbers, the mere presence of a few golden notes from his horn redeems them.

But to get really tough, let's insist that a record be judged, as a whole, by its final effect. This way we find that only three artists have maintained a consistently high standard along with a large output: Duke Ellington, Teddy Wilson, and Mildred Bailey. Ellington and Wilson are fairly well-known, even among the lowest jive-addict, but Bailey, unfortunately, is a different case. To the swing fan she is just another singer, out of touch with the present "standards" of sexy song-singing. He probably first heard her when she sang with Goodman, bought a record of their joint efforts, and left it at that. To some jazz fans she is a pretty good singer who happened to be present on a date when Teddy Wilson, Bunny Berigan, and Johnny Hodges made four wonderful sides for the Gems of Jazz Album.

It's about time, however, that someone came out and gave Mildred her due. Downbeat and Metronome give her a kind word now and then, taking her for granted most of the time. The more csoteric jazz magazines ignore her completely. As a result, the rising generation of jazz lovers misses out almost entirely. Peggy Lees may come and Ramonas may go, but Mildred Bailey remains the best female singer since Bessic Smith. The strange part of the public's ignoring of Mildred is that she resembles in many respects the greatest living male singer, Bing Crosby.

Besides having grown up together, Bing and Mildred worked for Paul Whiteman when Whiteman's band included the greatest living white jazz men. Mildred may have stuck closer to the righteous music and Bing may have headed for greener commercial pastures, but their essential tastes and styles are the same.

Both Bing and Mildred demand and get the best out of the musicians with whom they work. They know what is right and if it's worth achieving, will work their heads off to achieve it. You'd never know the effort spent, however, by merely listening to their records. Their secret is relaxation. Neither betrays the slightest tension. From start to finish their records are a lesson to the Harry James school of swing and strain. For intimacy and warmth, no one can beat them. Put on a record of Mildred's, sit down, and listen. There is no phonograph, no needle, no turning record, but music that you hear inside, not with your cars.