The King James version

Harry James. The first link I have with him is the direct-to-disk vinyl album “King James Version” which I won in an eBay bidding several years ago. Much of what I know about this great musician came from my late audiophile father and my two older brothers who in the late ‘70s would talk endlessly about Harry, his music and his wife, pin-up girl Betty Grable. I was in my early teens then, and I couldn’t care less about the man and his wife, but I sure loved his music. Even then, with my late father’s and my two brothers’ influence, I was already hooked on jazz.

In time, however, I began to appreciate the men and women behind the music. It is through the persona of composers and performers that the world we know now is kept in balance. Their music is an endless source of hope, peace and inspiration. Just as their notes create harmonious sounds, so does their music serve as the thread that binds us all, beyond geography, race, gender, status and creed.

Harry Haag James was one artist who never failed to fire up his fans’ imagination. As a person, his egocentric and flamboyant ways turned off many; he was a man who lived “a sad and misguided life.”

Harry was aloof, according to one of his drummers. “Harry never got close to people. I don’t think anybody really liked him.” His first of three wives, singer Louise Tobin, told of James’ “inhuman side,” his “cold, icy stare” and his “absolute indifference to his own children.”

 But throughout his musical life, his trumpet and brand of music did his PR for him. For many jazz fans, he was an artist with enviable skills. His fiery style launched his career and helped him become the star of the Benny Goodman Orchestra in the late 1930s. Harry then later adopted a mushy approach that paved the road to a string of hit records during the ‘40s.

Harry drew inspiration from anything and everything to create or arrange music. In Sweet Georgia Brown (Track 7 on the “King James Version” album), for instance, Harry diverted from all other original arrangements for the song. One night, while watching a basketball game starring the Harlem Globetrotters, he envisioned Sweet Georgia Brown as Charleston, drew it in his head that way, and asked Rob Turk (one of the band’s arrangers) to put it on paper. In a typical Harry fashion, he quipped: “It’s a Charleston all right, stop-time, breaks and all. It swings.”

And swing it did! Sweet Georgia Brown became one of the favorite tunes on the dance floor during that era. Yes, it was the ballroom, which became Harry’s own kingdom. He was King James — for three decades — to one and all, and was credited for giving Frank Sinatra his start at lucrative gigs at the casino hotels in Las Vegas and Tahoe.

Sheffield Labs — one of the most famous recording companies In the 1970s — did what other in the industry was unthinkable: it decided to turn the clock back 40 years by removing the master tape, and all the editing/recording/electronic losses involved. The process took the electrical signal from the microphones to a mixing desk, and then direct to a disc-cutting lathe where the master copy was cut.

Sheffield practically threw away all the flexibility and control that modern recordings depend on, by combining the simplicity of a live performance with the quality of a studio recording.

And Harry was part of this recording transformation. In March 1976, the Sheffield Lab team recorded outside of the studio by using a 32-track console and in effect simply cutting out the master tape/editing process by taking a feed from that desk to the cutting lathe. It booked, not a small acoustic group, but the Harry James Big Band. It was a risk. Instead of the cozy confines of the recording studio the band were arranged in the Wylie Chapel just down the road. There were no atmosphere mikes, no fake echo or effects. This mike fed direct to a simple portable console, which in turn drove 600 feet of cable to the cutting lathe at the Sheffield Labs Mastering Lab. All this system was designed and set up for this recording. Not one transformer was in the music path. When the band finally sat down to record, all bets were off.

“The King James Version” made recording history. As soon as the first track Corner Pocket rings out, boy, forget all those audiophile buzz words such as “ambience,” “attack,” “palpability.” The album transports you to the sound of the chapel; the acoustic is just so real, you can almost see the altar and the pews. Awesome dynamics! You just can’t imagine how this level could be cut.

For all his faults, most audiophiles agree that Harry was one of the most essential trumpeters and bandleaders in the history of American music. Music was Harry James’ life, and it was as sweet for him as it was for those of us who were and continue to be mesmerized by his genius as immortalized by Sheffield Labs.

* * *

For comments or questions, please e-mail me at audioglow@yahoo.com or at vphl@hotmail.com. You can also visit www.wiredstate.com for quick answers to your audio concerns.