A Brief History Of The Great "Buckshot La Funke"

In February of 1957, 25-year-old trumpeter Louie Smith recorded a session for the short-lived Transition Records label.  Transition was founded in 1955 in Boston by (soon to be) legendary producer Tom Wilson (Dylan, Zappa, Simon & Garfunkel, etc.)  In its short two-year existence, jazz-centric Transition Records released 20 or so titles, including albums by Donald Byrd and Lucky Thompson, and the debut albums of both Sun Ra and Cecil Taylor.

Unfortunately for Louis Smith, Transition Records folded before his album was released.  But all was not lost:  Wilson sold the master tape to Alfred Lion at Blue Note Records.  In 1958, Blue Note released it as Here Comes Louis Smith (BLP 1584).  Smith released one more album for Blue Note later that same year (Smithville, BLP 1594) before returning to his day job teaching music at Booker T. Washington High School in Atlanta, GA.  He didn't release another record for nearly 40 years.

Which is a shame, because Smith was a fine trumpet player with a warm tone, very much in the mold of his hero, the great Clifford Brown.  Both of Smith's Blue Note LPs are well worth seeking out, although they are not easy to find.  

Mr. La Funke

But I didn't really come here to talk about Louis Smith per se.  I came to talk about the mysterious session man who plays alto sax on Smith's first album.  If you look closely at the players at the bottom left of the album cover (above), you will see that the first name listed is "Buckshot La Funke."  (I'm assuming that 'Funke' is pronounced like 'funk,' although it also works as the two-syllable "funky."  And either way it's hilarious.)  

Jazz fans who picked up Here Comes Louis Smith in 1958 were no doubt as puzzled as I was about the identity of Mr. La Funke.  However, all is (sort of) revealed in the liner notes by noted jazz critic Leonard Feather.  With his tongue firmly in his cheek, Feather notes that "Buckshot La Funke (of the Florida La Funkes) is one of the modern alto giants and has been described by Nat Adderley as 'my favorite soloist and main influence'."  That was more than enough info for most jazz fans to identify La Funke as Nat Adderley's big brother Julian, better known as Cannonball.  However, just in case anyone was still uncertain, Feather adds elsewhere that as a music teacher "Smith shares the profession (with) such distinguished teachers as Cannonball Adderley . . .  who was employed at a school in Ft. Lauderdale, Fla."  So, the mysterious Buckshot La Funke is clearly the great Cannonball Adderley.  (Feather's comments on Here Comes Louis Smith are some of the wittiest liner notes I've ever seen on a jazz album.  Feather keeps the yuks coming when he refers to pianist Tommy Flanagan as being one "of the Detroit Flanagans.")

Cannonball wasn't credited on Smith's Blue Note release because he was under contract with a different record company at the time.  (To be honest, I'm not sure which company that was since Cannonball put out records on at least three different labels in 1958.)  So, as has been done for many other musicians over the years, he is listed with a pseudonym on Here Comes Louis Smith.  It's important to note that pseudonyms aren't the same as nicknames.  Nicknames were very common among jazz musicians, and nicknames like Prez, Bird, Dizzy, Duke, Jug, Satchmo, Cannonball, and Rabbit were often better known than the players' real names.  Pseudonyms, on the other hand, were meant to disguise the identity of the player who sat in on the session, although it usually wasn't long before word got out; aficionados and critics could quickly identify the mystery players by their tone or style of playing.

Other jazz greats who have used pseudonyms include Charlie Parker, who is billed as Charlie Chan on the famous 1958 album Jazz At Massey Hall.  Jackie McLean shows up as Ferris Benda on Art Blakey's 1957 classic Night In Tunisia (right).  Dizzy Gillespie used a lot of fake names, including B. Bopstein, Izzy Goldberg, John Kildare, and several versions of his real given names, John Berks.  Even Leonard Feather (who in addition to being one of the most influential jazz writers/critics ever, was also a fine musician and record producer) gets in on the act.  He turns up as Jelly Roll Lipschitz when he played piano on a 1951 jazz compilation recording on the Folkways label.  Now that's funny.

You have to admire the cleverness of fake names like Buckshot La Funke, in which buckshot plays off Cannonball as a type of ammunition.  Other particularly witty pseudonyms include that of trumpeter Fats Navarro, who is listed as Slim Romero on a 1947 Illinois Jacquet single, and saxophonist Gato Barbieri, who is billed as "Unknown Cat" on an album by Carla Bley.  "Unknown Cat" gets extra credit since Gato is Spanish for cat and jazz musicians were/are often referred to as "cats."  Muddy Waters was credited as Dirty Rivers on a 1964 release by Otis Span.  Finally, special recognition goes to trombonist Jimmy Cleveland for his use of the name Jimmy O'Heigho on The Drum Suite, a 1956 release by Manny Albam and Ernie Wilkins. (Cleveland, O'Heigho. OK, you got it.)

Lots of rock stars have used pseudonyms to get around contractual obligations as well.  The Beatles all used fake names at some point or other so they could give songs to other performers, sit in on albums by friends, or release songs or performances as a lark.  Paul used the name Paul Ramon on several albums and singles (and when booking hotel rooms anonymously).  Paul and wife Linda created the character of a socialite musician named Percy Thrillington and put out an album and a single under his name (left).  (The album was an orchestrated cover version of McCartney's 1971 album Ram.)  Paul later revealed that he wrote the liner notes for the LP Percy Thrillington using the name Clint Harrigan.  John was particularly fond of silly pseudonyms.  Just a few of his many bogus credits are: Dr. Winston O'Boogie (which he used on a cover of "Lucy In The Sky With Diamonds" by Elton John, (left), Booker Table And The Maitre D's (very clever), the Hon. John St. John Johnson, and Johnny Silver.  George used the names George O'Hara and Hari Georgeson, the later no doubt as a nod to his devotion to Eastern religion. (Hari is the Sanskrit word for god, as in Hari Krishna).  Ringo is billed as Richie Snare on Harry Nilsson's 1972 album Son Of Schmilsson.  

Elsewhere in the rock world, Neil Young has famously used the name Bernard Shakey for years.  And Bob Dylan has used numerous pseudonyms, including Blind Boy Grunt, Bob Landy, Tedham Porterhouse, and, most notably, Jack Frost, who is credited on many Dylan albums.

Occasionally old pseudonyms resurface and get repurposed.  In the 1990s, Wynton Marsalis released two albums with a band he called Buckshot LeFunque, clearly an homage to Cannonball Adderley's earlier alter ego.  And in 1974, a group of budding young musicians in Forest Hills, NY started a band called The Ramones, named in honor of Paul McCartney's Paul Ramon character.  The four original members of the Ramones (who weren't related) all took fake names and billed themselves as the Ramone brothers -- Joey, Johnny, Dee Dee, and Tommy.  "Gimme Gimme Shock Treatment" indeed. 

Returning briefly to Louis Smith.  As I mentioned earlier, his two Blue Note albums are well worth seeking out.  Both feature excellent straight-ahead bop and first-rate sidemen, including (in addition to Mr. LaFunke), such notables as Charlie Rouse, Sonny Clark, Art Taylor, and Duke Jordan.

Unfortunately, since Smith was mostly unknown, neither of his records sold well.  As a result, finding copies today is a challenge.  The price of the original 1958 Blue Note release of either LP is in the $1,000-2,000 range.  Beyond that, there are re-pressings of both LPs from 1972 on the "Division of United Artists Records" Blue Note label, as well as three different Japanese reissues of each.  All these reissues are also fairly scarce, with VG+ copies in the $50-60 range.  Your best bet by far for Smithville is the superb 2010 two-disk 45-rpm reissue on the audiophile Music Matters label, which can be found in mint condition for around $50.  For Smith's debut album, Here Comes Louis Smith, your best bet is a 2016 reissue on the Spanish Elemental Music label, which is available for around $20.  It's worth noting that unlike a number of other Spain-based labels that deal in off-copyright, public domain reissues, Elemental's EU Blue Note reissue series is fully licensed.  I assume they are remastered from digital copies, but I have several titles and am pleased with the sound quality and the fit and finish for all of them.  Not taking any chances, the Elemental reissue of Here Comes Louis Smith has a sticker on the front of the shrink that says "Featuring Cannonball Adderley (as "Buckshot La Funke").

Enjoy the music!