A family jam: Two generations of cool share the stage at Jazz Alley
John "Bucky" Pizzarelli and his sons, John Jr. and Martin, are living proof the theory doesn't always fly.
The three have been digging each other's music for a long, long time. Family functions at the elder Pizzarelli's New Jersey home, including the ritual Christmas dinners, usually turn into jam sessions. ("Why turn on the TV when you have a couple of guitars in the house?" the younger John asks.)
And the Pizzarellis are so in tune, they often share a stage together — as they are doing now in Seattle, nightly through Sunday, at Jazz Alley, with pianist Ray Kennedy.
Chatting on a recent rainy Seattle afternoon with Bucky and John (while Martin takes a snooze), it is obvious this father and son have much in common. They're both natty dressers, affable gentlemen, and they share a joshing mutual ease and professional respect.
True, John Pizzarelli, the dark, lean 43-year-old singer-guitarist, gets most of the star treatment these days. His smooth vocals and deft instrumental work have gained him a high standing among New School of Cool jazz-pop revivalists — Diana Krall, Harry Connick Jr., et al. — who share his love for Great American Songbook standards. And this Pizzarelli is something of a comedian, too: His quick, self-deprecating zingers make him a hoot on the bandstand.
Taking a cue from one of his idols, the late Nat King Cole, he leads a drumless trio rounded out by his 40-year-old brother, Martin (on bass), and the fine keyboard player Kennedy. With and without his 10-year-old band, Pizzarelli has already recorded 18 albums on various labels. (The latest: "John Pizzarelli: Live at Birdland," on the Telarc label.) Plus he's appeared in the Broadway musical "Dream" and turns up now and again on the hip, late-night TV shows hosted by Conan O'Brien and David Letterman.
But if ever John's head starts to swell, his dad's achievements during 60 years in the music racket can bring some perspective.
A longtime player in jazz clarinetist Benny Goodman's band, a member of Doc Severinsen's fiercely swinging "Tonight Show" band for years, and a guy who has lent his quicksilver guitar stylings to countless studio recordings and concerts with Stephane Grappelli, Zoot Sims and other jazz luminaries, Bucky Pizzarelli is a low-key, genial patriarch — and a musician's musician.
"Dad, weren't you on Ray Charles' recording of 'Georgia on My Mind'? And on Sinatra's 'Fly Me to the Moon'?" John Pizzarelli reminds his 77-year-old parent.
Bucky nods sagely. And when asked about his long musical alliance with the famously demanding Benny Goodman, he informs you, "Benny was the best. He always had a knack for finding out who in the band wasn't giving 100 percent, and he could give you a hard time about it. But I always gave more than 100 percent, so we got along great."
The Pizzarelli musical heritage extends back at least to Bucky's Italian-American uncles, who taught him to play banjo. And when Bucky and Ruth (his wife of nearly 50 years) had four kids (daughters Mary and Anne, then John and Martin), it seemed natural some would adopt the family trade.
"There was no real rebellion at home," muses John. "Dad wasn't a guy who loved only one kind of music. He just never said no to us about music, so we never thought of it as a job. We still don't."
John took up guitar at age 6. His idols, in his teens, were rockers and singer-songwriters — "James Taylor, Michael Franks, Billy Joel." But later Bucky nudged him in a different direction by introducing him to the gently jazzier musical groove the junior Pizzarelli specializes in today.
"Dad told me that if you can learn to play a Peter Frampton solo off the record, why don't you try this solo by (jazz guitarist) Django Reinhardt too?" John recalls. "And he steered me toward Nat King Cole and his early trio. Listening to them gave me the feeling I could do anything I wanted to do. Cole's music could really swing, it had a sense of humor, some romance. He was a great, great star."
"The first record I had of his was 'Paper Moon,' " remembers Bucky. "I heard it when I was coming home from the service in World War II, and I thought it was so terrific I ran right out and bought it."
Bucky would eventually record with Cole. And decades later, John and trio put out two tribute albums to the late crooner: "Dear Mr. Cole" and "P.S. Mr. Cole."
But earlier, while in his 20s, John started his jazz career by playing gigs with his dad; the two cut their first record together in 1979. And at some point John enlisted his younger, quieter brother Martin into the family firm: "I had a fight with some bass player, so I showed Martin all the bass fingerings and said, 'You wanna do this?' I kind of forced it on him."
Today Bucky, who worked mostly in nearby Manhattan while raising his family in New Jersey, hits the road with John's trio for 20 to 30 gigs a year. The two laugh about a wild week spent as the special guests of a popular TV-variety show in Rome. ("It was like a cross between Ed Sullivan and 'Ted Mack's Original Amateur Hour,' " cracked John.) And on separate tours, both shared the thrill of appearing in Germany, just as the Berlin Wall was coming down.
They applaud the current jazz vocals revival and marvel at how many young people turn up at John's dates to hear the songs of Gershwin, Arlen, Rodgers and Hart.
Yet while John has kind words to say about most of his standard-singing peers, he's not thrilled with rocker Rod Stewart's hit records in a similar vein. "I think they're horrible," Pizzarelli opines bluntly. "At least it gets people listening to 'Bewitched' who never heard Ella Fitzgerald do it. I just wonder, why can't they put all that advertising behind someone who can really do the music well?"
He may not get half the hype lavished on Rod the Mod. But during Tuesday's opening night concert at Jazz Alley, Pizzarelli had other things working for him: talent, charm and Bucky.
Starting with a blithe trio set, including some swinging Cole favorites ("The Frim Fram Sauce," "Just Me, Just You"), John swapped lightning runs with nimble piano cohort Kennedy. He sang caressing versions of "Manhattan" and "What Are You Doing New Year's?"
He cracked up the crowd with witticisms and shared a winking rapport with brother Martin, a stalwart on stand-up bass.
Then he jokingly introduced a slow-moving but beaming Bucky as "my father, guitar legend Les Paul," and the two played an intimate set of shimmering string duets. Amusing and surprising each other with playful turns of phrase, bent and ringing notes, and lush chordings on Duke Ellington ballads and other golden oldies, father and son beguiled the crowd with something that can't be faked, even in this cynical age: the sheer joy of making beautiful music with a true kindred spirit.
Misha Berson: mberson@seattletimes.com
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