Something I listened to last week in New York restored my faith in Benny Goodman. I don't know that I ever exactly lost faith in him, because it takes quite a lot to destory those first impressions. You see, it was from the Goodman band of lo! these six or seven years ago that so many of us took our first course in jazz appreciation. And for many of those who admired him then he has remained a sort of demi-god, even though his band has never matched its pristine achiechements of the Music goes 'round and 'round era when benny was beginning to be called the Swingmaster. We have wailed at his romantic tenors and will probably gnash our teeth at his forthcoming vocal trio, and have hung heads listening to "Buckle Down Winsocki." and when he comes out with a good record like "Limehouse Blues" or "String of Pearls," there has been jubilation in our ranks.

Some of us have remarked within the past couple of years how his clarinet playing seemed to have deteriorated, that it his lacked the verve and snap and inventiveness of yore. not only in his commercial products of popular airs, but in his too infrequent jazz records, his solos have been adversely affected by his full-dress symphony performances, for the cold, pure classical clarinet tone Mozart wanted sounds cold and pure when transferred to jazz, where tone can express so much.

But apparently Benny has not lost his touch. What he needed was the right conditions. And during the last four years Milt Gabler of the Commodore Music Shop in New York has been providing the right conditions at his recording sessions, which have accordingly produced some of the most beautiful spontaneous music on records today. Last month Benny recorded for Commodore for the first time, in a little band including some of his own musicians, calling itself Mel Powell's Big City Seven. all the soloists were in form, but the real delight was to hear the Good Man, appearing under the name of Shoeless John Jackson to avoid contract difficulties with Columbia, playing better than I've heard him in years. the two best sides, "World Is Waiting for the Sunrise" and the slow "Mood at Twilight," will probably be issued on the same record, and on each Goodman plays with all that old feeling. Al Morgan, the bass player on the occasion, who is now with Sabby Lewis at the Savoy in town, testifies to the chummy, intimate atmosphere which pervaded the session, with each player inspiring his neighbor. the records should be on sale within a couple of weeks, and Briggs and Briggs's stock deserves to be bought out the day it arrives.