Memorable Musical Hires

New England jazz heroes Gray Sargent and Dave McKenna

Dick Kniss

Recently Dick Kniss died. He was the longtime bassist for Peter, Paul, and Mary. His passing made me think of other supporting players associated with big names. Do they consider themselves lucky to have established a gig that last decades?

Take Tony Bennett for example. For over four decades Ralph Sharon was his pianist. It's understandable why it's so important that Tony have someone he trusts at the helm. Think of how unnerving it would be to have to get comfortable with someone new every couple of years. As a singer, if you lack confidence in who's backing you, then you're insecure - and boy, does it show when you sing!

Yesterday I was enjoying Tony's Duets II film about the making of Duets II now airing on PBS. We should all thank Tony Bennett for offering us a model of how to age gracefully and always aspire to be the best. The production value on this video, and on anything that Tony does, is incredible. Well-executed, and with the deepest respect for the material. I also love the interviews with each of the singers that he chose to accompany him.

I noticed his new piano player. Well, new in the sense that he's probably only been with Tony for a decade! Also accompanying Tony was guitarist Gray Sargent. He's been with Mr. B for at fifteen years! Gray is from New England. I'll never forget hearing him accompany Margaret Whiting one rainswept Sunday afternoon (indoors - very intimate!).

Gray Sargent is referred to on one site as a "swing-bop" player. Tony first heard him play at a party on the Cape in the early '90s, just a few short years after he'd triumphantly returned to Columbia (with 1988's The Art of Excellence, an album arranged and conducted by Jorge Calandrelli, who has worked for Bennett for over twenty years! You'll see his name on each page of sheet music on the PBS special).

At the time Bennett heard Sargent, he was probably on the lookout for a fresh flavor to his trio. At that time swing was experiencing a brief burst of popularity (think of Brian Setzer). He was back at Columbia, but he couldn't continue doing exclusively string-oriented musical settings on his albums. It wasn't fashionable and besides, it was more demanding on his voice. So, Sargent came aboard, and Tony's career continued to prosper.

Now back to Kniss, the bass player. At the time that Peter, Paul, and Mary were starting out, they were seeking a way to differentiate themselves from the competition that, given that it was the folk revival, was significant at the time. So, besides their tasteful song selection and beautiful vocal arranging, they seized upon the idea of having a bass player provide them some ballast.

"Dick is continually re-inventing approaches to our songs", said Noel Paul Stookey of PP&M several years ago. "Sometimes he's there at the beginning; helping to create the tone or mood of a piece while the trio's vocal parts are still evolving. But personally", continues Stookey, "I think his greatest contributions come nightly! I can't name another bass player who improvises so tastefully within the framework of folkmusic".

After Peter, Paul, and Mary disbanded in the early '70s, Dick Kniss was snatched up by John Denver. Again, a memorable hire: Kniss helped co-write "Sunshine On My Shoulders", a song that catapulted Denver to fame (along with "Rocky Mountain High" and "Country Roads"). He stayed with Denver until PP&M reunited at the end of the decade.

Here's to the players behind the singers who provide them inspiration and awaken their musical imaginations!

John Denver Part I

Last week marked the anniversary of the death of John Denver—an important singer-songwriter (at least in terms of the popular consciousness).

Liking John Denver always seemed like a guilty pleasure. His music is so innocent and sincere. For someone who was as popular as he was, Denver now seems an obscurity—except for anyone around my age. Reflecting upon John Denver stirs thoughts about how ephemeral fame is and motivates me to rescue his legacy.

There IS a significant legacy. Let’s begin in 1970. That is the year that Earth Day was established in this country. At the time, we were embroiled in the Vietnam War, so the conservation message had serious competition for space in the public mind.

John Denver was unknown—he’d only recently finished his tenure with a folk group called the Chad Mitchell Trio and set out to establish a solo career. RCA, a label specializing in folk/country pop crossovers, had Denver on its roster, largely because of his promise as a songwriter—Peter, Paul, and Mary had scored a tremendous hit with his “Leavin’ on a Jet Plane” a couple of years earlier.

His initial release—1969’s “Rhymes and Reasons”*—is such a product of its time. The photography features Denver as he’d be shown on all his albums—outdoors, and loving it. (The guy was all teeth when he smiled, which was often.) On the back is a poem that Denver wrote about how “the children and the flowers are my sisters and my brothers” followed by the label’s declaration that

“JOHN DENVER—born—lives—cares—believes!”

Doesn’t the salability of this sentiment seem so quaint today? The public had an appetite for it, though—in the early part of the last decade, singers like Bob Dylan and Phil Ochs had struck a chord with what was dubbed “protest music.” The “Movement” —which, broadly speaking, represented peace and social justice—was fatigued by the continuing prosecution of the war, the assassinations of King and the Kennedys, and the ascension of Richard Nixon. This appetite was soon to be awakened by Henry John Deutschendorf Jr.

That’s right—John Denver named himself and, looking back, one finds the audacity truly remarkable. In a few years, Denver was destined to make Colorado and Montana paradise in the public mind. This was a singer with a vision, and a desire to be famous.

Listen to John Denver today. I’ll continue to pay homage and make my case in subsequent posts.

* The album title doesn't actually spell out "and" but Blogger won't seem to allow an ampersand.