Saturday, December 11, 2010

Arrivaderci, Moody.

Not many of the original old cats left these days. Moody was a good one. A sweet, funny, humble, talented man. He passed on Thursday aged 85, in San Diego. Nice replay of a 90s Fresh Air interview with Moody here. There I go, there I go, there I go, there I go...

Nice NPR remembrance here.

“I used to look at the saxophones every day, I'd just look at ’em, you know. And when I first got my first saxophone, I put it in bed by me and just used to sleep with it, man. Just looking at it.”

Moody’s passing made me remember what a big old hole John Birks Gillespie left in the world.

Little piece of Moody’s NY Times obit (entirety here):

“Defying the stereotype of the modern jazz musician as austere and humorless (and following the example of Gillespie, whom he considered his musical mentor and with whom he worked on and off for almost half a century), Mr. Moody told silly jokes, peppered his repertory with unlikely numbers like “Beer Barrel Polka” and the theme from “The Flintstones,” and often sang. His singing voice was unpolished but enthusiastic — and very distinctive, partly because he spoke and sang with a noticeable lisp, a result of having been born partly deaf.”

If you want to check out the man’s music, I’d recommend “Moody’s Mood for Blues” (Prestige OJC) a compilation of two 50s Prestige records, or “At the Jazz Workshop” (GRP) a 1998 reissue of the 1961 album “Cookin’ the Blues” plus some unreleased bits.

(Ithink the photo of Moody below is by my friend Chuck Stewart, but it wasn’t credited where I found it)