Red Norvo: The Secret Session

Red Norvo's The Secret Session arrives like a message in a bottle, its cork finally loosened after more than 80 years. Recorded in late 1942, in the dead of night and against the grain of wartime caution and a recording ban called by the American Federation of Musicians union, these sides capture a septet caught between eras. Besides Norvo, the band featured musicians who would go on to become stars in their own right, including trumpeter Shorty Rogers, trombonist Eddie Bert, clarinetist Aaron Sachs, pianist Hank Kahout, bassist Clyde Lombardi, and drummer Specs Powell. Led by Norvo's cool, precise, and rhythmically confident xylophone, the band showcased arrangements that were tidy without being precious, swinging hard while hinting at bop's sharper angles. Yes, it's a stolen moment, but one marked with exceptional clarity.

The opener, "One Note Jive," sets the mood with a sleek, insinuating riff that establishes the band's nocturnal confidence. Rogers displays brassy wit with his solo, answered by Bert's broad, grounded trombone. Kahout covers the keys with unpredictable sway, and Sachs' clarinet shows a clear attack. When Norvo finally joins in, he lets his mallets speak with clipped control. "Speculatin'" deepens the story. Built on a relaxed but probing arrangement, it allows the rhythm section of Kahout, Lombardi, and Powell to assert a flexible late-night pulse, into which Norvo integrates his instrument to create a sonic canvas. Sachs's solo wraps warmly around the changes, suggesting the Swing Era's lyrical past even as the harmonic movement nudges forward.

Two of the longest tracks on the album are "I May Be Wrong" and "Rose Room," which was originally written in 1917 but was repopularized by Benny Goodman in 1939, featuring guitarist Charlie Christian. The former shows the group's swing, discipline and restraint. The chart is compact and unshowy as Norvo glides through the melody with a dancer's balance, demonstrating how the xylophone can be both percussive and conversational. Sacks is on alto saxophone this time. He, along with Rogers, Bert, and Kahout, each solos economically but never overstays their welcome. In the latter, tradition is honored without dust. The familiar opening theme is established by Sachs' clarinet, who lays the groundwork for the soloists to build upon the recognized changes. Bert's trombone comes across as seasoned and confident, and Norvo reframes the standard with a modern sheen, his mallets dancing lightly where others might bludgeon. Rogers cuts clean lines, and Kahout delivers his solo with an easy, unforced swing.

As the band covers various pieces, such as "Russian Lullabye" with a darker tone and gentle nuance, or "Bugle Call Rag" with lively swing, or "Optical Illusion Pt.1" which hints at bebop's restless curiosity, it is clear that the band knew what they wanted to convey, even beneath the cover of darkness. The closing track, "Liza," ends the night on a lively note. Long a favorite jam-session piece, Specs Powell's brush work dances over the drum kit, setting the stage for buoyant solos and sharp ensemble work. Norvo plays with a distinctive touch, bringing the clandestine session to a confident close and a sense of forward momentum.

The album is more than just a historical curiosity. It is a sincere record of musicians embracing the future halfway, playing for the moment rather than posterity.

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