The (Jazz Record Collector’s) Bash 2024: “To Confer, Converse, And Otherwise Hobnob With My Brother Wizards”
Or “The Pop-Corn Man Cometh”
(Basic info on the Bash may be found here.)
This weekend marks the 48th year of a venerable American tradition - the annual Jazz Record Collector’s Bash - or as we longtime attendees simply call it, “The Bash.” In the early days, my Dad and I drove out with the dean of rare record dealers, Fred Cohen of the Jazz Record Center. This was always one of our great bonding events, and I still think of my Dad every time I go - perhaps it’s not a coincidence that the Bash is always the weekend after Father’s Day.
I’m attaching two stories; one is from another of my mentors, the late John S. Wilson, who wrote a feature article for the NYT right after the first bash in 1975. Not much has changed! (The only correction here is that the gentleman identified as “Richard Scars” is actually Dick Sears, the discographer who later gave us the authoritative history of the V-Disc program. Also, I don’t know if I’m familiar with a vintage Louis Armstrong record of a song called “I Can’t Do That.”)
As I state in the story, I haven’t actually purchased a physical record or a CD there in ages; for most of the current century, I have done all my listening via digital means - and still my apartment is crowded with stuff, with everything except records & CDs. The real reason I never miss the bash is, as Oz the Great says in the classic 1939 film, “To confer, converse, and otherwise hobnob with my brother wizards.”
I’m also including the text of my own story from the Wall Street Journal in 2009 - hard to believe that this was 15 years ago.
https://www.nytimes.com/1975/06/09/archives/a-bit-of-bg-lots-of-78-rpms-featured-at-bash.html
As Dave Weiner - who was there from the beginning, and, as of last year, took over the running and production of the bash - says, it’s like Brigadoon, in that everything, including conversations, picks up immediately where it was a year ago, although all of us do look a year older. To make another musical comedy allusion, it’s also “the oldest established permanent floating crap game in New York,” except that most of us have grown too old and too stout to actually “float.”
Anyhow, check out all the links - and I hope I’ll see you there. I’m not sure what I am most looking forward to: seeing the gang again; viewing the film shows of host Dave Weiner, veteran historian Lloyd Rauch, and Dean of Jazz Film Mavens Mark Cantor; or indulging in a monumental deli sandwich across the parking lot at Harold’s. (I call it “Pastrami Dearest.”)
Sharing Music the Old-Fashioned Way
By Will Friedwald
June 24, 2009 at 12:01 am
Since 1975, on the third Friday and Saturday of June, collectors have gathered at a Holiday Inn in central New Jersey for the Collector's Bash, not only to buy and sell rare and not-so-rare jazz discs, but to meet and mingle. About 15 years ago, during the final hours of that year's conclave, collector Charlie Braun recalls, there was a pile of "commonplace stuff" on one of the tables, priced at a dollar a disc. Mr. Braun found about five records mildly interesting, one of which, he casually noticed, was "oooOO-OH BOOM." He bought them, and only after taking his new purchases up to his room did he notice that the flip-side of "oooOO-OH BOOM" was, surprisingly, "Pop-Corn Man." It had to be a later reissue, he thought. But he showed the record to Goodman expert Warren Hicks, who was also at the Bash. Mr. Hicks informed him that there never was a reissue in the 78 era, so this disc had to be the original. Not only had Mr. Braun unearthed one of the most desirable rarities in jazz history -- the Maltese Falcon of swing -- but it had lain in plain sight of Goodman collectors for two days. And it was only a buck.
"Pop-Corn Man" probably remains the most spectacular find in all 35 years of the Bash. And record-hunting is only part of the attraction. Hardcore jazzbos like me also visit with old friends we get to see only on this annual occasion, making it more like a family reunion than a record show.
When I was a novice buff in the '70s and '80s, my father and I would spend at least one night a week "sharing music" the old-fashioned way -- visiting friends and listening together over pizza and beer (the same way other fathers and sons watched football). With the rise of the Internet, the social aspect of record collecting is fading and someone unearthing a rarity like "Pop-Corn Man" would be more likely to email it to his friends than invite them over to listen to it. The Bash is the one major occasion in my life when listening to records is still a social activity. We "regulars" would gladly forgo Christmas and our birthdays rather than give up our once-a-year weekend.
The Bash's founder, Ken Crawford, died in 2006, but the traditions he initiated are maintained: Both nights, for example, include film shows, the second hosted by the Vitaphone Project, which restores rare early sound films. Unfortunately, the increasingly older average age of the attendees is also something of a Bash tradition: I was the youngest participant in 1979, and I practically still am at age 47. For the past two years, at last, some younger collectors have started to attend, including 23-year-old grad student and educator Rob Vrabel, who specializes in early hot jazz and wears vintage period garb like he came straight out of the 1920s. There's also Zachary Sigall, an 18-year-old 78 maven who favors blues and "hillbilly" music, which he first heard in the 2001 movie "Ghost World," and who patterns his clothing and hair styles after "Seymour," Steve Buscemi's character in that film.
Crawford's most joyous legacy, however, may be "The Cutting Contest": Late on Friday night, after the films, collectors try to top each other by spinning their most exciting 78rpm trophies. This year, ethnic-music authority Steve Shapiro played an electrifyingly hot version of the 1935 pop tune "A Latin From Manhattan" and dared us to identify the band. No one had a clue until the vocal came on. It was sung in Russian; the band was the Muscovite bandleader Alexander Vladimirovich Varlamov and his orchestra.
At the Bash you get to hear both classic and unknown hot-jazz records from the '20s and '30s (little comes from the swing or bop eras) on original pressings in pristine quality. No LP, CD, or MP3 can recapture the magic of Duke Ellington ("Rocky Mountain Blues"), Clarence Williams ("Shout, Sister, Shout"), Bix Beiderbecke ("Humpty Dumpty"), or the Casa Loma Orchestra ("Jazz Me Blues") on authentic shellac. This year, there were still two-dozen collectors huddled around the turntable at 2 a.m. The assemblage, led by moderator (and collector-dealer) Henry Schmidt, included NEA Jazz Master historian-critic Dan Morgenstern, film archivist and singer John Leifert (who offered the furiously hot "Found My Gal" by North Carolina bandleader Tal Henry), veteran scholar Mike Biel and his daughter, Leah (the producer of a new documentary about record collecting), and reissue producer Sherwin Dunner.
A big part of the thrill is discovering great platters and bands you've never heard of, such as Norridge Mayhams and his Barbecue Boys or Eddie Deas and his Boston Brownies. The latter was proffered by young Mr. Sigall. A committed musical conservative steadfastly devoted to the very earliest jazz styles, the teenager reported that Louis Armstrong is "too progressive" for his taste; rather, he prefers the jazz icon's mentor, King Oliver. To support this claim, he produced Oliver's amazing 1930 Victor, "Shake It and Break It," on a clean pressing that he had won on eBay for a very reasonable $40.
Alas, the one record I most wanted to hear wasn't there. Although Mr. Braun attended, he has not yet brought "Pop-Corn Man" back to the Bash. The year after the discovery, however, he did return to the scene wearing a custom T-shirt reading, "I'm the guy who found 'Pop-Corn Man' for a buck!"
Mr. Friedwald writes about jazz for the Journal.
Disclaimer: These are my memories of these incidents, nothing more, nothing less. I apologize in advance in case they may not line up precisely with anyone else’s account of what transpired on those occasions.
Very Special thanks to the fabulous Ms. Elizabeth Zimmer, for expert proofreading of this page, and scanning for typos, mistakes, and other assorted boo-boos!
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I will make the journey from Philadelphia to Edison (EDISON!) on Saturday. It's been far too long since I've been to a Bash. Guys like Chick from CT must be long gone. Now that I'm getting back into vinyl, there may be something I might find to add to the growing collection.