The Big Spider Back—I mean Bix Beiderbecke—Jazz Festival took off on August 1st through 3rd, congregating enthusiastic folks back to Davenport, Iowa, including my mum and me. It was a thrilling reunion to meet both the same musicians and aficionados from last year as well as new folks. The long wait was so rewarding after an entire year of “dull silence” in Georgia, and Mum even convinced me to take an AP exam to attend the festival; the motivation was substantial. It happened to be US History, which as usual, I studied with much pleasure, except for some minor complaints, one being that they barely covered the 1920s and the birth of jazz.
Since we enjoyed last year’s festival so much, we decided to reach Bix’s hometown in time for the opening day at the Rhythm City Casino on August 1st. Furthermore, we actually got to attend the preceding afternoon concert held at the Putnam Museum too:
Blindly poking around to find where the proper entrance was, I heaved open a door and immediately, music flooded into my ears. I first caught the echoes of a bright, singing clarinet and noticed that it was Mr. Andy Schumm! Dumbstruck, I scurried into the large museum room. An employee inquired us, “Are you here for the science exhibit or the concert?” “The music,” I replied, bug-eyed with ears fixed to the clarinet, and I didn’t know what time it was—we definitely arrived late due to rental car complications, but the minutes flew past too quickly once entering the beloved Midwestern land of Central Time. We settled amidst the back rows due to a majority of the seats being occupied, and this made me gleeful to observe that there was a sizeable audience, including some heads of younger people popping out from the group. I eventually haven’t been acquainted with them well, but I do believe this year’s Bix festival experienced a jolly handful of new young dancers later into the weekend.
Straight ahead, I could see Mr. Mike Davis on cornet (and later vocals); Mr. Schumm on reeds; Mr. Sam Chess on trombone; Mr. David Boeddinghaus on piano; Mr. Steve Pikal on bass; Mr. Jacob Alspach on guitar; and Mr. Hal Smith on drums. They mostly performed tunes recorded by Bix, including rare favorites like “Blue River” and “Thou Swell,” but one that seemed to specially linger inside of me throughout the weekend was “Back in Your Own Backyard.” Mr. Schumm on clarinet began with the melancholy verse and Mr. Davis entered the poignant chorus, followed by Mr. Chess and the rest of the band for the heavenly harmony. I haven’t realized how strangely mournful, beautiful, and haunting that tune is. Relaxing in the midst of the mellow music, I felt like I was “back in our own backyard.”
Home seems to come with three criteria for me: firstly, and most importantly, it must be where there’s the people I love; secondly, there must be good nourishing food; and lastly, it lies where there’s the music I fancy. Traveling with my mum to Davenport for the Bix festival seemed to fulfill two and I felt— at home. The festival remains on my wish list every year, and here I am wishing to be there again as I write.
To be absolutely frank, last year’s festival was a wondrous thrill, although I wasn’t very accustomed to the continuous rows of consecutive concerts. Having heard hot jazz live for the very first time in 2023, I experienced an ethereal excitement tinged with 98.5% overwhelming wonder and 1.5% minor misery back then. The tad bit of this misery resulted from my small, concentrated mental repertoire of songs and bands mixed with the lack of knowledge of jazz history. Well, I thought I knew quite a bit for a pupil last year, but I might as well shuffle and recycle this belief throughout my lifetime of learning. Perhaps it also takes some duration to strengthen the endurance of attending an entire festival with a happy dose of nine hours of hot jazz a day.
Anyhow, there was boundless joy in Davenport when Mr. Mike Davis and The New Wonders made their debut at the Bix Beiderbecke Jazz Festival at the Rhythm City Casino. Being a fan of the Goofus Five and Red Nichols combos, I could particularly relate to this wonderful band’s style and repertoire, making it an additional plus of enjoyment that I have recently written my review for their brilliant album, Steppin’ Out, in the August issue of TST.
The lineup of stars was a new variation consisting of Mr. Davis on cornet and vocals leading Ms. Natalie Scharf on reeds, delivering a splendidly supportive voice for the frontline; Mr. Chess on trombone, making his debut at the Bix festival; Mr. Boeddinghaus on piano, who possesses thorough clarity in playing; Mr. Matt Tolentino on the melodica and bass saxophone (if you’ve been there on the first day, you’ll know that Mr. Michael McQuaid sat in for the bass saxophone in temporary replacement); Mr. Schumm on banjo livening the atmosphere as well; and Mr. Josh Duffee on percussions (to elucidate, his musical works never end on his beautifully painted 1920s drum set—come visit Davenport for next year’s festival if you wish to hear his entire “cache” of explosive surprises. From chimes to bells, really, you mustn’t miss this spectacle!).
Additionally, as a bandleader, Mr. Davis crooned several lovely tunes like “Jeannine, I Dream of Lilac Time,” “Time on My Hands,” and “Moonlight (When Shadows Fall).” The latter melody was so lovely, and I was very glad to have been introduced to it for the first time at the festival. Hoping that Mr. Davis’ arrangement of “Moonlight” would perhaps succeed to a future The New Wonders album, I was positively surprised to discover that Turtle Bay Records uploaded a recording of it as a single recently. Hearing live numbers from Steppin’ Out was special, and while songs like “Helen Gone,” “My Fate Is in Your Hands,” “Do, Do, Do,” and “My Melancholy Baby” were enjoyable, I opinionate that “Half-Seas Over” was most thrilling because the Schutt-styled piano was accomplished by Mr. Boeddinghaus on piano while Mr. Schumm on banjo, creating a slightly different feel from the studio recording.
The next upcoming band on the first day was the Dooley Family band, making their debut at the festival. It was a brief set with Mr. Mike Dooley, Mr. Jim Dooley, and Mr. Jim’s daughter, Ms. Claire. They had a nice vocal trio accompanied by gentle guitar strumming, and the Dooley family featured many of early Bing Crosby’s popular songs. Mr. Schumm also sat in for a song or two on his cornet, and the Chicago-based musicians featured a peaceful, relaxed style.
The following band was Mr. Paul Asaro and his Rhythm. The lineup consisted of musicians nearly the same as the Chicago Cellar Boys sans Mr. Jimmy Barrett whilst augmented by Mr. Alspach on guitar and Ms. Gina DeGregorio on drums and vocals. Featuring stride piano, Mr. Asaro demonstrated many Fats Waller tunes and early to mid-30s swing combos. I greatly enjoyed the conversational duets of Mr. Asaro and Ms. DeGregorio in Crosby and Connee Boswell classics like “Basin Street Blues” and “An Apple for the Teacher.”
Next was Mr. Hal Smith and his El Dorado Jazz Band, which made its tribute to the original El Dorado Jazz Band that stationed the vicinity of Southern California in the 1960s. There were authentic washboard works from Mr. Smith; hot cornet playing from Mr. Colin Hancock, who flew from Austin, TX; energetic trombone jamming from Mr. Brandon Au; proficient clarinet playing from Mr. Schumm; fashionably raspy vocals and bouncy piano playing from the “Mystic Ballistic” Mr. Jeff Barnhart; banjo strumming from Mr. T.J. Müller; and calm, steady bass-playing from Mr. Mikiya Matsuda. Three of the members, Mr. Hancock, Mr. Au, and Mr. Matsuda, made their debut appearance at the Bix festival.
Since the members of Mr. Smith’s El Dorado Jazz Band weren’t based in the same location, I was surprised to observe how well they matched. After a brief conversation with Mr. Smith later near the end of weekend, as he autographed the CDs, I was so dumbstruck from their organized coordination and asked, “How do they all do that. . ?”
Mr. Smith turned to me and answered in his deep voice, tugging his ear, “This.”
It held me at profound insight as he explained about the mutual listening ear, familiar to the same records and open to hearing each other on stage. We shared pleasant discussions, and I treasured directly learning from and conversing with the musicians.
In the bright morning of August 2nd, the Celebration Belle serenely cruised down the Mississippi River, while Mr. Müller’s Jazz-O-Maniacs combo rambled happily on the upper deck. It was crowded with boisterous, jolly people, and the mass’s decibels climbed up the scale every moment. I think the volume might have diminished after everybody had their hearty meal, but the whole three hours were entertaining. I realized how amusing it is to have music aboard a riverboat with a buffet. It gives a beat to eat to (that phrase revolved ‘round my mind throughout the tour), and even better, the Jazz-O-Maniacs held open song requests at their last set on the cruise.
Back at the Rhythm City venue later into the day, the Jazz-O-Maniacs combo seen on the riverboat (Mr. Müller on banjo, Mr. Dave Kosmyna on cornet, Mr. McQuaid on clarinet, Mr. Jeff Barnhart on piano, and Mr. Josh Duffee on drums) was augmented by Mr. Steve Pikal on bass, Mr. Matt Tolentino on reeds and featured accordion, and Mr. Colin Hancock on trombone/cornet. I began enjoying Mr. Müller’s sets increasingly after realizing what an exceptional repertoire his band possesses. On top of many of St. Louis’ finest tunes, there were unique arrangements of the Bennie Moten Kansas City Orchestra numbers like “Kater Street Rag” and “Bouncin’ Around,” which added well to my education after reading Mr. Barnhart and Mr. Dan Barrett’s TST articles on Bennie Moten.
Since Mrs. Ida Shoufler, the daughter of the late Mr. Frank Melrose, was among the audience, they also featured Kansas City Frank tunes like “How Come You Do Me Like You Do?”. It was welcoming to revisit some songs that resurfaced from last year like “Frankie and Johnny,” and “Starvation Blues,” which was memorable because Mr. McQuaid and Mr. Tolentino gave a haunting treatment on the shrilling clarinets. It was most appropriate for that song, and I somehow grew fond of that singing clarinet cry, maybe because it’s done so precisely.
I couldn’t resist tapping my feet along to all the concerts, especially the cheerful sets of the Chicago Cellar Boys. I enjoyed them significantly—even more than last year. I’ve begun gradually appreciating how supportive the fellow bandmembers are. Ms. Scharf seemed much more comfortable on the tenor saxophone in contrast to last year’s event. For the first time, I suddenly realized that the Chicago Cellar Boys had a special musical and personal bonding among the participants. It almost felt like a family band of its own, and I could sense how well they coordinated with a connection not only among themselves but also with the audience. At times, there were unintentionally formed standup comedy and sporadic commentary. I fancy the conversational side of trad jazz.
One of best thrills during their sets was listening to the original compositions brought fresh from the Chicago Cellar Boys HQ like “Everything’s Jake,” “Too Late to Make It Square,” “Highball,” and “Let’s Do Things”—the last tune (and “Half-Seas Over”) was performed under The New Wonders’ set, but it was too good to exclude from this wonderful list. The melodies are all uniquely excellent and well-constructed, marked with the distinct Schumm style; some are “real hot numbers” and others deeply sentimental and warm. Indeed, Mr. Schumm ought to launch a CD out of these lovely tunes someday, because there’s just schummthing so special about his songs. I really hope he considers recording these exquisite compositions. It’s a mighty interest of mine to observe the preservation of trad jazz expressed in innovative creations, such examples of those listed above.
Furthermore, Mr. Schumm’s fun explanations and anecdotes were most delightful if not informative. I learned about Bix’s “huddle method,” used in his early years with the Wolverines, in which the musicians crowded around the piano as Bix conducted the notes to play, arranged from memory without written scores. As a special, the Chicago Cellar Boys even performed the piano-swap act for the 1924 Wolverines record, “Big Boy,” which will celebrate its centennial this October (mark your calendars for this remembrance on the 7th!). Mr. Asaro played the piano until Mr. Schumm transitioned from cornet to the keys for Bix’s original solo. It was a breathtaking feat. I also received confirmation that I wasn’t hearing it incorrectly that the 1928 Bix Beiderbecke & His Gang record of “Somebody Stole My Gal” had a stolen verse of “My Melancholy Baby.” I had been bewildered, assuming that I was merely assuming that two separate phrases sounded similar, but with Mr. Schumm’s historical details, the mystery has been resolved.
Another random moment of amusement and glee that I specifically noted in my chronicle was the performance of “A Lane in Spain.” Remarkably, the Chicago Cellar Boys appropriately arranged the Jean Goldkette Orchestra number for a six-piece. It sounded grand, and the brief portion that made me smile was when, for the first time, I heard the descending measure of Fuzzy Farrar’s minor blunder of the B natural played correctly. I was mighty glad to have it captured on video since my sister and I used to kid a lot about that single note of the original record, despite that we respectfully find Farrar great.
Intriguingly, the Chicago Cellar Boys happened to perform “Lonely Melody” arranged from the 1928 Paul Whiteman & His Orchestra recording (with Bix on it). Mr. Schumm mentioned that the original label vaguely cited “Adapted from a melody by Grüenfeld.” Then, he scanned around the audience to see if anyone knew what original classical piece inspired the creation of its jazz remix. There was silence. So, upon reaching home, I conducted a search by looking for one “Grüenfeld.” I learned that there was an Austrian composer named Alfred Grünfeld (the letter “e” was deleted over time somehow). In Prague, he was born in 1852 and passed away in 1924, so the composer never got to hear the jazzy Bill Challis-ian arrangement of his piece. Next, I spent a session listening through all the Alfred Grünfeld recordings I could find on YouTube until I discovered a melancholy piano composition that sounded remarkably familiar. It happened to be that the jazzmen got inspired by Grünfeld’s elegant piece entitled, “Kleine Serenade” of 1888, and I was quite pleased to find it.
Another great favorite of my mum and me, the Graystone Monarchs, led by Mr. Josh Duffee, introduced a 1930s big band set at the end of that day, and I was not very familiar with the amusing repertoire of Artie Shaw, Chick Webb, Count Basie, Duke Ellington, Glenn Miller, and Benny Goodman. However, we were very impressed that the musicians were all sight-reading the arrangements, yet there wasn’t noticeably a single mistake. It’s still a mystery how the reed section accomplished “Lindy Hopper’s Delight” with those intentional quarter tone notes. I didn’t know that song back then, yet the silly sound effects of the saxophones made me both bewildered and delighted as the reedmen navigated through the score merely by ear, trust, intuition, and notations.
For numerous solos, the band featured Mr. McQuaid on clarinet, whose strong, operatic vibrato reminded me of Ray Lodwig (although Ray was a trumpetist), and it was quite a highlight of the day listening to his reflections of the great Jimmy Dorsey. Under rare circumstances, Mr. Schumm was seen performing alto saxophone solos in the 30s big band. The lineup was massive with literally “all hands on deck,” as the majority of musicians appeared for the unusually augmented thirteen-piece showcase: Ms. Scharf, Mr. McQuaid, Mr. Tolentino, and Mr. Schumm in the reed section; Mr. Au, Mr. Chess, Mr. Davis, Mr. Kosmyna, and Mr. Hancock in the brass section; Mr. Duffee, Mr. Boeddinghaus, Mr. Müller, and Mr. Mikiya Matsuda in the rhythm section.
On the subsequent day, the Graystone Monarchs returned to their original 1920s concerts. It was heartening and inspiring to listen to Mr. Duffee’s own story on being introduced to the Jean Goldkette Orchestra’s rendition of “My Pretty Girl,” which sparked his journey into hot jazz music at age seventeen. I found this very amusing, since that specific record (and “Clementine”) brought me interested in the Goldkette Orchestra due to Steve Brown’s hot bass slapping along with Danny Polo’s and Spiegel Willcox’s solos. And so, that was the ultimate song the Graystone Monarchs performed for the festival with Mr. Pikal accomplishing the memorable bass feat, and it was done marvelously.
Later into the final day, the Chicago Cellar Boys ended the festival with “Depression Stomp,” a vigorous number played (and sung!) passionately. After Mr. Schumm foreshadowed the song’s effects in his announcements from the band stand, I felt deeply related to this expression when the sentiments began setting in after the great festival ended and everybody sadly parted.
In reference to what Bing Crosby said in the beginning of his book Call Me Lucky about his mind feeling like a broken jukebox trying to figure out where to start the story, mine is no different mentioning those highlights to end this vignette here. If I had another instance playing in my mental jukebox, it’d be the merry happening of the second day when Mr. Schumm was presented the Bix Lives Award.
If I may insert another highlight: while I anticipated with low odds and reasonable probabilities that The New Wonders will perform standards or decently popular tunes like “Whispering,” perhaps in the arrangement of Red Nichols & his Five Pennies, a great surprise sprang up when Mr. Davis unexpectedly appeared extra excited and mentioned (more like cautioned) the impending number. A rather obscure tune, he said. I paused and was nonplussed when he announced that they’ll be playing, “The Whisper Song”—not “Whispering.” If this title remains unfamiliar to you, it is a 1927 Goofus Five record accessible on YouTube—please give it a try! Once in a blue moon, when trad jazz musicians, historians, or enthusiasts (or trifecta-people who are all three) inform and “warn” you that some incoming tune is “obscure,” be readied for something eccentric. “Obscure” here is complimentary praise for a rare discovery, and “The Whisper Song” (which I completely did not expect to hear during my lifetime) was a buzz. Mr. Duffee accomplished the bird’s singing with his whistler along with all his impeccable percussion works. If you’re in a campaign search for obscure, enigmatic tunes, Davenport’s the place in August.
At another time, during the Graystone Monarch’s penultimate set, Mr. Gavin Rice joined in with the late Bobby Gillette’s banjo for a couple songs. It was the very instrument used for Bix’s debut recording sessions with the Wolverines, which created the recordings that have just begun to enjoy its centennial year. So, the Graystone Monarchs performed “Fidgety Feet,” just like how it was played at the Starr-Gennett studio in Richmond, Indiana a hundred years ago. Many folks found this amusing, and I noticed after writing this paragraph that Mr. Hoffman, whom I had the pleasure of meeting with, also mentioned this sensation of the late Gillette’s banjo in his Bix festival review of last month’s issue of TST.
After all that concert filming, I have loads of footage to listen, share, and study. Well, I guess those will keep me busy—until next time. I am already pining and yearning for the next Bix Beiderbecke Jazz Festival.
Here now lies a year-long ambition of learning further into jazz history and music until greeting the Mississippi River again. Rally your friends and family—invite them over to Iowa for next year’s joy because there’s nothin’ like a fine Bix festival while it lasts.
See you in Davenport!
Clorinda Nickols is a homeschooler residing in Georgia. While being an avid pupil of trad jazz, she is also fond of researching history and sharing her thoughts through her writings. Her hobbies also include: playing the cornet/piano/her ‘Pocket Rollini,’ sewing vintage garments, and drawing.
