With the holiday season now mostly behind us and the new year of 2024 ahead, many of us who live in the Northern Hemisphere are experiencing winter and all that comes with it.
As great Harlem Renaissance poet, playwright, and activist Langston Hughes wrote in 1923’s “Winter Moon”:
“How thin and sharp is the moon tonight! How thin and sharp and ghostly white Is the slim curved crook of the moon tonight!”
The poetry of the season has also been captured in multiple music genres, so let’s listen to some of those tunes.
RELATED STORY: Black Music Sunday: Let it snow—and let’s find some music to keep you warm!
”Black Music Sunday” is a weekly series highlighting all things Black music with over 190 stories covering performers, genres, history, and more, each featuring its own vibrant soundtrack. I hope you’ll find some familiar tunes and perhaps an introduction to something new.
Kool and the Gang sang about the transition into the season in their frequently sampled 1975 tune, “Winter Sadness.”
When autumn leaves fall to the ground
And their colors change red and brown
The smell of chestnuts roasting in the air
That lets us know she’s almost here
Winter sadness
Winter sadness, hmm-mm
Give it a listen.
The Kool & the Gang bio, from their website:
Kool & the Gang, officially launched in 1969, after performing for five years under various band titles, has influenced the music of three generations and, at the age of 49, the band has become true recording industry legends. Thanks to iconic songs like Celebration, Cherish, Jungle Boogie, Summer Madness and Open Sesame, they’ve earned two Grammy Awards, seven American Music Awards, 25 Top Ten R&B hits, nine Top Ten Pop hits and 31 gold and platinum albums.
From Nairobi to Newark, Kool & the Gang has performed continuously longer than any R&B group in history and their bulletproof funk and jazzy arrangements have also made them the most sampled R&B band of all time. A reviewer recently called their performance “a 24-karat show” and every year, even after a half-century on the road, yields a non-stop schedule of shows across the globe.
…
In 1964, Ronald Bell and his brother, Robert “Kool” Bell, joined Jersey City neighborhood friends Robert “Spike” Mickens, Dennis “Dee Tee” Thomas, Ricky Westfield, George Brown, and Charles Smith to create a unique musical blend of jazz, soul and funk. At first calling themselves the Jazziacs, the band went through various names – The New Dimensions, The Soul Town Band, Kool & the Flames – before settling on their famous moniker.
In my home, we take down the Christmas tree and other decorations on Jan. 7—the day after Epiphany, or Three Kings Day, on Jan. 6. Drummer and vocalist Jamison Ross released his tune by that name on his 2012 debut album “Jamison.”
The Thelonious Monk Institute of Jazz introduced Jamison Ross as an incredible young drummer in 2012 after he won the Thelonious Monk International Jazz Competition. Three years later, Jamison, his joyous debut, presents him not only as a jazz musician who commands the drums, but also as a gifted composer, bandleader and more pointedly, a singer.
In fact, Ross sings on ten of the disc’s 12 sensational tracks. “When I won the Monk competition, basically no one there knew that I was a singer,” says 27-year-old Ross, before revealing that he began singing in his grandfather’s church while growing up in Jacksonville, Fla. “I grew up around the spirit of music with knowledge of how to present it but with hardly any level of formal education,” he recalls. “My family didn’t think about it too hard it; it was a just a part of who we were.”
…
Ross shines the light solely on his vocal and drums prowess with the enchanting solo two-minute piece “Jazz (Interlude),” which segues effortlessly into Ross’ “Epiphany,” a soul-bop original with triumphant hard-bop informed horn charts, driving rhythms and Ross’ warm wordless vocals. “Epiphany represents my development as a drummer and singer. Exploring the possibilities of my voice coupled with my drumming has been fun and challenging. I wouldn’t trade this journey for the world,” said Ross.
The word “epiphany” doesn’t always apply to Christian things. This tune is clearly a swinging moment of revelation.
Harkening back to Hughes’ “Winter Moon,” in 1956, Tin Pan Alley singer-songwriter Hoagy Carmichael wrote with Harold Adamson a tune by that name, then recorded it with his group, The Pacific Jazzmen.
Two other versions of it have very different flavors. Unfortunately, both were recorded by artists whose lives were severely compromised by addiction.
The first is from Stan Getz and Laurindo Almeida and was recorded in 1963.
Sandra Burlingame wrote Getz’s biography for Jazz Standards.
In 1944 he joined the Stan Kenton band and, at eighteen, became its premiere soloist. He left the following year to join first Jimmy Dorsey and then Benny Goodman, who fired him for missing performances while he was scuffling for heroin. With Woody Herman’s Second Herd he made a name for himself with the recording of “Four Brothers,” featuring Getz, fellow tenors Zoot Sims and Herb Steward, and baritone saxophonist Serge Chaloff, and with his solo on the band’s 1948 recording of “Early Autumn.”
…
In 1953 he was arrested on a narcotics charge and spent a few months in jail. But he continued to maintain an impressive musical career. In 1958 he moved to Copenhagen, returning to the U.S. in 1961 to find the music changed and John Coltrane outpolling him. He recorded a critically acclaimed album, Focus, with the orchestra of arranger Eddie Sauter and was introduced to Brazilian music by guitarist Charlie Byrd with whom he recorded Jazz Samba. The album rose to number one on the charts in 1963 and earned Getz a Grammy for best jazz solo. He followed up with Getz/Gilberto which won album of the year in 1965 and the best jazz instrumental award for Getz.
As for Brazilian guitarist Laurindo Almeida:
He brought Bossa Nova to the United States long before it was called that. He has scored many films, often composing, then playing his own music, and his famed recordings include everything from Bach to a beautiful solo album of Broadway favorites. Each of these things he did superbly, for he was unique among guitarists, and was so acclaimed by audiences and critics alike.
Almeida was born in Sao Paulo, Brazil of a musical family. He moved to the United States in 1947, having already become one of Brazil’s most famous musicians, admired even then by every kind of audience.
As a young musician touring Paris, Almeida became enamored with the legendary jazz stylist Django Reinhardt, and the music of this great innovator stayed with him. Upon coming to Hollywood his interest in the things that were happening in American jazz led him to Stan Kenton and a new career.
The second “Winter Moon” came from an album of the same name from Art Pepper and was released in 1981. Pepper had a wintry career, due to his addiction to heroin—one of its street names was “snow.”
From Art Pepper’s biography at AllMusic by Matt Collar:
He was still a teenager when he joined Stan Kenton’s band, touring the U.S. until he was drafted into the Army in 1943. Following his discharge after World War II, Pepper returned to Los Angeles, where he again joined Kenton’s ensemble, playing alongside bandmates like Conte Candoli, Lee Konitz, Frank Rosolino, and others.
By the early ’50s, Pepper was a star, widely regarded as one of the best alto saxophonists in the country. Though he had only appeared on a handful of recordings, he was popular enough to finish second behind Charlie Parker in the 1952 DownBeat magazine readers’ poll. However, it was also during this initial career ascent that he was arrested and sent to prison on drug-related charges stemming from heroin addiction; an issue that plagued him throughout his career and resulted in a number of incarcerations. Released from prison in 1956, Pepper quickly made up for lost time, recording a number of classic albums including Art Pepper Meets the Rhythm Section featuring Miles Davis bandmates Red Garland, Paul Chambers, and Philly Joe Jones, Surf Ride with Russ Freeman and Hampton Hawes, and Playboys with trumpeter Chet Baker. All of these albums showcased Pepper’s fluid, bop-informed improvisational style and singing tone, solidifying his reputation as one of the architects of the cool, West Coast jazz sound. There were also sessions with Wane Marsh, Herb Ellis, Jimmy Giuffre, and others.
Other musicians on Pepper’s “Winter Moon” included Cecil McBee on bass, Stanley Cowell on piano, and Carl Burnett on drums. Have a listen:
RELATED STORY: Black Music Sunday: A visit to Central Avenue, the center of the early Los Angeles jazz scene
For me, the most absorbing musical and poetic take on winter is probably Gil Scott Heron’s “Winter in America.”
From his original liner notes:
“At the end of 360 degrees, Winter is a metaphor: a term not only used to describe the season of ice, but the period of our lives through which we are travelling. In our hearts we feel that spring is just around the corner: a spring of brotherhood and united spirits among people of color. Everyone is moving, searching. There is a restlessness within our souls that keeps us questioning, discovering and struggling against a system that will not allow us space and time for fresh expression. Western icemen have attempted to distort time. Extra months on the calendar and daylight saved what was Eastern Standard. We approach winter the most depressing period in the history of this industrial empire, with threats of oil shortages and energy crises. But we, as Black people, have been a source of endless energy, endless beauty and endless determination. I have many things to tell you about tomorrow’s love and light. We will see you in Spring.”
Enjoy:
Lyrics:
From the Indians who welcomed the pilgrims
And to the buffalo who once ruled the plains
Like the vultures circling beneath the dark clouds
Looking for the rain
Looking for the rainJust like the cities staggered on the coastline
In a nation that just can’t stand much more
Like the forest buried beneath the highway
Never had a chance to grow
Never had a chance to growAnd now it’s winter
Winter in America
Yes and all of the healers have been killed
Or sent away, yeah
But the people know, the people knowIt’s winter
Winter in America
And ain’t nobody fighting
‘Cause nobody knows what to save
Save your soul, Lord knows
From Winter in AmericaThe Constitution
A noble piece of paper
With free society
Struggled but it died in vainAnd now Democracy is ragtime on the corner
Hoping for some rain
Looks like it’s hoping
Hoping for some rainAnd I see the robins
Perched in barren treetops
Watching last-ditch racists marching across the floor
But just like the peace sign that vanished in our dreams
Never had a chance to grow
Never had a chance to growAnd now it’s winter
It’s winter in America
And all of the healers have been killed
Or been betrayed
Yeah, but the people know, people knowIt’s winter, Lord knows
It’s winter in America
And ain’t nobody fighting
Cause nobody knows what to save
Save your souls
From Winter in AmericaAnd now it’s winter
Winter in America
And all of the healers done been killed or sent away
Yeah, and the people know, people know
It’s winter
Winter in AmericaAnd ain’t nobody fighting
Cause nobody knows what to save
And ain’t nobody fighting
Cause nobody knows, nobody knows
And ain’t nobody fighting
Cause nobody knows what to save
Scott Heron was yet another artist trapped in that frozen winter of addiction, yet he was able to bring a spring of spiritual and political awakening to his audiences.
Simon Glickman wrote his bio for Musician’s Guide.
Mixing his unique, highly politicized, and verbally complex poetry with minimal percussion in the early 1970s, and developing a speaking/singing soul-jazz form he christened “bluesology,” performer Gil Scott-Heron has been widely credited with helping to invent rap. The title of Scott-Heron’s best-known piece, “The Revolution Will Not Be Televised,” has become a pop catchphrase, and his evolving activism would influence several highly regarded albums before he took a long hiatus; it was almost a decade before Scott-Heron released a new album to an eager public in 1994. By this time the legacy of his career was apparent; many of the most ambitious young rap and hip-hop artists have laid claim to Scott-Heron as a crucial influence.
Born in Chicago, Illinois, Scott-Heron was raised by his grandmother in Jackson, Tennessee, after his parents divorced. He briefly attended school in his hometown, but as one of a handful of black students in the heart of segregationist America, he was unable to tolerate the abuse ladled out by his white schoolmates. Scott-Heron, now with his mother, moved to New York City. There he discovered his writing talents and a wealth of inspiration provided by black American writers of the “Harlem Renaissance,” a literary movement of the early 1900s that included such writers as Langston Hughes. Like Hughes, the precocious Scott-Heron attended Lincoln University in Pennsylvania. Though he left after a year, he made the acquaintance of Brian Jackson, who would figure prominently in his musical endeavors.
Scott-Heron’s literary ambitions were substantial and were backed up by considerable stylistic prowess; he published his first novel, The Vulture, at age 19. The story of urban youth, drugs, and death, The Vulture indicated an already sophisticated writing voice. Scott-Heron next published the poetry collection Small Talk at 125th & Lenox. The title also graced his first album, a spoken-word recording featuring sparse music and percussion tracks released by Flying Dutchman in 1970.
As New Orleans writer and filmmaker Kalamu ya Salaam wrote in one of his many commentaries about Scott Heron:
I am convinced Gil knew just how fucked-up he was but—and this is the true tragedy—he also knew, as he candidly sang, no matter how much he wanted to, he could never kick his addictions, plus he could never go home again. And perhaps this fucked-up aspect of Gil’s life is a metaphor for all of us people of African descent struggling in America. In general, we can never kick the addiction to this place, and at the same time we can never be fully at home here if we define home as a space where we control our lives and live in peace and dignity. The hell hounds won’t stop barking and hunting down us runaways, the drugs (of whatever type they might be—could be just simple comfort corruption, get so we got to have air conditioning, whatever) keep enticing us, keep us fiending for the very shit that’s holding us down. The terrible truth is that Gil was a twisted genius who ultimately found it impossible to live what most of us call a normal life. And if you think it’s just cause Gil was a drug addict you are incredibly mistaken. True that the drugs were a major impediment but there was an even deeper danger.
Problem is Gil spoke out against the system and the system made him pay. The system exacts heavy dues from everyone and is especially oppressive to those who dare resist. They hound you. They force you to make choices: heads they win, tails you lose. Make a mistake and they are all over your ass. Smile at their silly shit, smile and do silly shit, they’ll give you a dollar; scowl at their bullshit and they’ll give you a hard way to go and not even a goddamn penny—hand your ass an inflated bill and demand payment in full.
Thinking about his life and death gives me the blues, but there are blues songs related to winter. One of them is from Muddy Waters, in which he sings:
Oh, so cold up north that the birds can’t hardly fly
So cold up north that the birds can’t hardly fly
I’m going back south
And let this winter pass on by
Give “Cold Weather Blues” a listen.
For his story, I suggest you read William J. Wright’s “Untold Truth Of Muddy Waters” at Grunge.
Few musicians loom as large in the history and development of the blues as McKinley Morganfield. Better known by his stage name, Muddy Waters, Morganfield left the cotton fields of Mississippi in the 1940s for better opportunities in the North. Bringing the country blues of the Delta with him, Waters made a practical decision that would revolutionize music. By setting his acoustic instrument aside and embracing the potential of the amplified electric guitar, the bluesman would help develop a sophisticated, urban-oriented form of blues music that would lead directly to the development of rock ‘n’ roll in the 1950s
RELATED STORY: Black Music Sunday: Chicago and the urban electric blues
I’ll close with a rarely heard 1972 tune from the Queen of Soul herself, Aretha Franklin. As discussed by Andrew Martone, who describes himself as “a music journalist currently writing his way through Aretha Franklin’s catalog, one song at a time, at 365daysofaretha.com,” the tune—“First Snow In Kokomo”—is …
Jarringly serene and wonderful. One of the most underrated and under-appreciated songs in Aretha Franklin’s catalog. “First Snow In Kokomo” holds a place as one of only two songs in Aretha’s catalog that has no rhythm. What drives Kokomo instead is what Aretha called “the irregular rhythm of real life”. It’s one of very few opportunities to really hear Aretha at the piano with minimal distraction. While she is accompanied by background vocals, as well as subtle organ, guitar, and bass parts, Aretha’s piano drives the song. It’s one of the most beautiful compositions Aretha ever wrote and recorded.
“A poem of mine set to music. I was feeling free and willing to take creative chances,” Aretha said in her 1999 autobiography Aretha: From These Roots of creating “First Snow In Kokomo”. “In a free-verse style, I painted a picture of a blissful January afternoon when we pulled into the small, peaceful midwestern town to visit (my partner Ken’s) family.”
Aretha wrote “Kokomo” in Kokomo, Indiana, during a trip with her partner Ken Cunningham to visit his mother. Aretha ‘the celebrity’ was off, and Aretha ‘the woman’, ‘new mother for the fourth time over’, was on.
Listen:
Lyrics
The first snow in Kokomo …
Off an Indiana highway,
I was on my way to Kokomo…
A funny friend named Chuck slipped and bumped his head
(ooooops!),
And as we picked him up, asked us had his nose turned red …
That was the first snow in Kokomo …Kenny learning to blow his horn …
I was feeling right up to it;
Could it be done?
Yes, I could do it …
That first snow in Kokomo …Jimmy Dee playing a bass he was learning to play;
Applegate discovered a coronet, almost right away …
Reggie expecting a baby,
and was Freddy kinda blue!
That was the first snow in Kokomo …Jimmy Dee has put his bass away
(put away),
And I wonder if Applegate ever learned to play?
Kenny is really, really blowing his horn,
And a baby named Moishe has been born …
(pretty little baby!)
Freddy’s getting ready to make things right …
(Right on, Freddy!)Since that first snow in Kokomo…
(First snow in Kokomo … the first snow in Kokomo …)
Where I live in New York’s Hudson Valley we haven’t had our first snow yet, but I smell it comin’. What wintry tunes are on your playlist? Please share them in the comments below, and join me for more great music!
