I’ve been thinking about disguises lately, so I was tickled to discover Jazz Masquerade (Modern Recordings) while treasure-hunting on the way back from the desert. The musicians performing on the album are not named, just credited as “The Modern Jazz Stars” and the genius back copy kicks-off by stating, “Here is a giant jazz played by giant jazzmen, masked to conceal their startling identity.” And why the masks? “Here was a recording session like you’d always dreamed about, and yet how to give it to the people without making some of the companies that held the contracts of these jazz giants feel bad?”
Well we certainly wouldn’t want that.
It continues, “The names of the mysterious swingers behind those concealing masks would read like a convention of the elite of the modern jazz world [Ed. Note: We get it.] Listening in awe to this amazing, no-holds-barred music, one asks oneself, 'Must not this clever crew include:'”
A bunch of names get listed at that point. With question marks. Charlie Parker? Teddy Edwards? Ben Webster? Howard McGhee? Name after name after name, ending with “… but why go on? One can only guess...”
Sure.
Finally, it concludes by asking if the true identities even matter. “The playing’s the thing!” we're reminded, somewhat weakly. But you know what? They're right. If you ever see Jazz Masquerade, grab it.
It’s a knockout.
* I know a few minutes online would probably reveal the players' true identities. But don’t bother posting them. I like myself a little mystery. There seem to be fewer and fewer these days.
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