Hot

Today was the second day of +100 degree temperature here in Portland. That's not as awful as it would be in a lot of places because it's not paired with the killer humidity, but it's still not fun.

So I took my notebook computer and decamped to a local coffee shop to suck down their iced tea and free wifi, and work through a backlog of big downloads, streaming media, and cleaning out my inbox--all made much easier by a 54Mbps connection and air conditioning.

Of course, even that didn't last forever; once the sun made it to the big west-facing windows of the coffee shop by mid-afternoon, the air conditioning never really had a chance.

But it lasted long enough for me to find a lovely little gem that John Amato posted over the weekend at Crooks & Liars: A performance of "(Get Your Kicks On) Route 66" by Mel Torme and a jazz trio, captured on public television about 40 years ago or more, from the looks of it, although the image size made reading production information as the credits rolled all but impossible (anyone with the info, please post it in the comments and I'll update). It's a trimmed-down, slimmed-down arrangement, very simple and clean, compared to the seriously amped-up version on my well-played compilation CD with its horn section, extended scat tribute to Fitzgerald, and clever winks at several big-band staples.

Wikipedia's article on Torme, cited by Amato, also includes an excerpt from an appreciation published after Torme's death:

Torme's style shared much with that of his idol, Ella Fitzgerald. Both were firmly rooted in the foundation of the swing era, but both seemed able to incorporate bebop innovations to keep their performances sounding fresh and contemporary. Like Sinatra, they sang with perfect diction and brought out the emotional content of the lyrics through subtle alterations of phrasing and harmony. Ballads were characterized by paraphrasing of the original melody which always seemed tasteful, appropriate and respectful to the vision of the songwriter. Unlike Sinatra, both Fitzgerald and Torme were likely to cut loose during a swinging up-tempo number with several “scat” choruses, using their voices without words to improvise a solo like a brass or reed instrument.

I never really understood why the nickname "The Velvet Fog" (which, as the story goes, Torme loathed) stuck; for me the most striking thing about his singing was his ability to phrase and trill like a jazz trumpeter.