Ramsey Lewis VS. The Jazz Police

How do we feel about Ramsey Lewis? 

I ask because a few weeks ago I picked up a nice used copy of the 1966 release Swingin' by the Ramsey Lewis Trio.  It's an intriguing combination of cool jazz, blues, and classical, played with panache and youthful exuberance.  It sounds more than a little like early stuff by The Modern Jazz Quartet or The Chico Hamilton Group.  The eclectic mix of tracks on the album includes "My Funny Valentine," the Habanero aria from the opera Carmen, the Yiddish classic "Bie Mir Bist Du Schoen," Gerry Mulligan's "Limelight," as well as three originals by Lewis and Young.  

But hold the phone.  By 1966, Ramsey Lewis was well into his contemporary jazz pop phase and was no longer playing straight ahead jazz.  So what the heck is going on?

I'm glad you asked.  I have about 30 albums by Ramsey Lewis.  When I found Swingin', I was pretty sure I didn't have a copy.   I certainly didn't recall the photo on the front of the jacket.  As it turns out (and I would have realized this if I had read the liner notes) Swingin' is a 1966 reissue of the trio's 1956 debut album called Gentle-Men Of Swing (right).  In addition to Ramsey on piano, the original trio featured Isaac "Red" Holt on drums and Eldee Young on bass.  It was an auspicious debut that announced to the jazz world that these three young guys from Chicago had a fresh sound and, more importantly, something worthwhile to say.

And they said it a lot, releasing 20 albums by the end of 1965, including three each in 1960, 1961, 1962, and 1963.  Many are noteworthy for the unusual, wide-ranging choice of songs.  The group liberally mixed together folk melodies, gospel songs, nursery rhymes, soundtracks, current Broadway and pop hits, Bossa Nova, soul, and even some country western.  

The trio's style was generally mainstream, with some cool poly-rhythmical bass and drums.  The majority of the tracks clock in at only three to four minutes; there isn't much stretching out on these early albums.  But even if nothing like a hot jam session ever threatened to break out, Lewis and his band mates were clearly talented jazz musicians who could swing.  They competed for record sales with piano trios like Oscar Peterson and (fellow Chicagoan and ARGO label-mate) Ahmad Jamal.  In short, their jazz bona fides were solid.

After a decade together, the group had a loyal fan base and steady albums sales.  They were a popular fixture at Chicago clubs and also toured and played at venues like Birdland and the Village Vanguard in New York.  But their big commercial break came with their 17nd (!) album, the 1965 release called The In Crowd.  The record was recorded live during a three-night stand at the Bohemian Cavern club in Washington, D.C.  The instrumental version of the title track (which had been a big hit for singer Dobie Gray earlier in 1965) made it to number five on the Hot 200 Chart, and all the way to number two on the R&B chart.  The album won a Grammy for Best Instrumental Jazz Performance.  And more importantly, the light jazz treatment of current pop hits that made The In Crowd such a hit proved to be the winning formula to propel Ramsey Lewis to a string of chart-topping albums and a massive new audience.  As Lewis noted in an interview years later: "All of a sudden this huge hit was on the chart, and we were up there in the Top Five with Elvis Presley, The Beatles, Barbra Streisand . . . So of course our money just sky-rocketed.  And suddenly we were making five to ten times more than we had been.  So I guess, while it did take time to get used to that, those are certainly days that I'll always remember." 

From bottom: Ramsey Lewis, Eldee Young, and Red Holt

Alas, as is often the case, the trio didn't survive their sudden celebrity and the huge infusion of cash that followed.  In an interview with Down Beat magazine, Lewis mentions growing artistic differences as a reason for the breakup and says: "We weren't relating to each other musically."  Which may very well be true.  But apparently another factor was that Young and Holt were unhappy that Lewis was getting most of the attention that accompanied the group's new-found fame.  As a result, the trio broke up before they could record a follow-up to their hit album.  Young and Holt left to form their own group, The Young-Holt Trio, which was renamed Young-Holt Limited after about a year.  They put out some 10 albums of R&B and soul jazz, and had one top five hit with the catchy "Soulful Strut."  Lewis, meanwhile, quickly rebuilt his trio with veteran musician Cleveland Eaton on bass and session man Maurice White on drums.  [Years later, White would go on to become a founding member of the group Earth, Wind, And Fire.]

Lewis and his label wasted no time getting the new trio into the studio to take advantage of the chart-topping success of The In Crowd.  The newly-formed group released five albums in the next two years, and a total of 10 albums before the end of the decade.  It is worth noting that following The In Crowd, Lewis no longer billed his group as the Ramsey Lewis Trio.  From now on, it was just Ramsey Lewis.  

In retrospect, I feel certain that Swingin' -- the album I picked up recently -- was reissued by the label in 1966 to cash in on the popularity of The In Crowd.  No doubt they were counting on the fact that lots of new fans wouldn't notice that Swingin' was a reissue of the group's first album.  However, I have to assume that most fans of The In Crowd were disappointed if they expected Swingin' to be a follow-up album.

1975's Sun Goddess

Back at the ranch, things were going great for Lewis.  He was now a huge popular success, selling more albums than ever, and, by his own admission, making lots more money than ever.  In the 70s, Lewis expanded his group to a septet and began to experiment with fusion, electronic, and soul jazz.  Many of his 70s releases, including the 1975 hit album, Sun Goddess, went gold.  (Not my favorite musically, but one of the all-time great album covers, at left.)  Lewis continued recording well into the 2000s and also devoted considerable time and energy into teaching and promoting jazz education.  In 2007, he was named a Jazz Master by the National Endowment for the Arts.  However, if you're thinking there must be a fly somewhere in the ointment, you'd be right.

Despite his growing popularity, after The In Crowd, Lewis lost nearly all of his street cred.  Fellow jazz musicians and critics viewed Lewis as a sellout with his shift to a watered-down jazz/pop style.  In a 1982 review, critic Brian Harrigan wrote that Lewis's once brilliant technique was "totally submerged by the presence of horn sections, additional keyboards, backing singers and - although I didn't actually hear it - probably someone taping on the side of a kitchen sink."  In a 1993 review, Down Beat magazine said "[His] acoustic piano breezes blandly through a set of diluted pop tunes and insipid originals, lightly scattering bluesy signature riffs upon the tepid waters."  Ouch. 

Lewis mostly shrugged off the negative press, saying that he had been mixing jazz and pop from the start.  In a 2013 interview, he says that after The In Crowd, "The jazz police disowned us.  But at the same time, people like Duke Ellington and Oscar Peterson would come by and put their arms around us and say you guys have something unique, stick with what you have."  Presumably the ever-increasing royalty checks helped assuage any remaining hurt feelings.  

Ramsey Lewis in 2020

While I understand the reaction by the "jazz police" when Lewis decided to follow the money starting in the mid 1960s, it's hard to blame him.  Except for a handful of marquee musicians like Dave Brubeck, Miles Davis, and Stan Getz, most jazz musicians in the 50s and 60s were just trying to make ends meet.  And when it comes right down to it, Lewis's jazz/pop albums like The In Crowd, Wade In The Water, and Dancing In The Streets, are great fun to listen to.

After playing my newly-acquired copy of Swingin' (which, by the way, wasn't a total loss since the reissue is a stereo version to go with my original mono copy of Gentle-Men Of Swing), I pulled out a few more of Lewis's early albums, including Down To Earth from 1959 (maybe my favorite album by Lewis) and Barefoot Sunday Blues from 1963.  I hadn't listened to these LPs in a while, and I was struck by how Lewis, Young, and Holt had carved out a really interesting niche with their jazz treatment of folk, blues, and gospel.  

To date, Ramsey Lewis has recorded more than 80 albums.  Most of them are readily available for no more than $10 in VG+ or NM condition.  I frequently see his albums in the dollar bins or priced at $3 to $5 at used record stores.  Nearly anything from the 1950s or 60s is worth picking up.  And while I'm not a big fan of 1975's Sun Goddess, it's worth a few bucks just to have the great cover.

Enjoy the music!