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| Before. |
He started in life as Nathaniel Adams Coles, but left it among counts and dukes as jazz royalty. The man who became Nat King Cole was born in Montgomery, Alabama in 1919, but his hometown didn’t play any discernible role in his life: his musical life started in Chicago and he made his name in Los Angeles. That doesn’t mean it came easy. From the best source online I found on Nat King Cole (and take a bow, Indiana Public Media):
“Before he became the ‘Unforgettable’ star of both music and television, Nat King Cole was just a work-a-day pianist in Los Angeles, trying desperately to secure his next gig.”
Like a lot of musicians of the era, Cole first learned music in the church where his father served as minister. It was his mother, however, who first sat him down in front of a church organ. The young man proved a quick study, playing his first song in front of a crowd at age four (“Yes, We Have No Bananas”; old one), but the Coles family was precocious like that: all three sons - in order, Eddie, Nat, Ike, and Freddy - went on to pursue careers in music.
The call came early for Cole, before the end of high school, in fact (I found no mention of what his parents thought of this). He took his first stab at forming a band in 1934, at age 15, with a group he named the Royal Dukes. When that act sputtered out, Cole found a place as a member of a touring band under Noble Sissle (again, nothing about his parents’ thoughts). Once he got back to Chicago, Nat Cole teamed up with his older brother Eddie to form a sextet called Eddie Cole’s Swingsters. That group enjoyed some local success, even managed to record a couple sides for Decca Records, but Sissle came calling again and Nat Cole went.
The offer was better this time, a role in the touring group of a revival of Sissle’s once-groundbreaking musical, Shuffle Along. That one decision changed his life. He met and married his first wife - Nadine Robinson, who was also part of the Shuffle Along tour - and, when the revival petered out in Los Angeles, the young couple decided they liked the city and the weather and settled down. It being the late 1930s, Cole attempted to organize one of the big bands that dominated the era. When that stab at the big time failed, Cole tried something novel for the time - i.e., bringing together a band that could fit on any stage, even a seedy nightclub: a trio.
The trio started playing as the King Cole Swingsters, and later clipped it to the King Cole Trio, but it featured the same members: Wesley Prince on double bass, Oscar Moore on guitar, and Cole on piano. They built up a decent local following and started making headway in another line of work: recording for radio transcriptions. They played their own material on some recordings, but also sat in as something like session musicians on others. From Syncopated Times:
“The music alternates hot swing instrumentals and ballads with vocalizing by the trio in worked out scat-filled unison passages on heated versions of standards and novelties. On some numbers the trio accompanies other singers (Bonnie Lake, Juanelda Carter, Maxine Johnson, Anita Boyer, Pauline and her Perils, and the Dreamers) but up to that time Cole was not singing solos and the group’s ballads tended to be instrumentals.” [Ed. - Pauline and her Perils is a dynamite name.]
Nat King Cole hid the smooth, effortless baritone that would later make him famous due to anxiety about growing up with a lisp, but he took his first step past it (perhaps apocryphally) in one night:
“According to legend, his career as a vocalist started when a drunken bar patron demanded that he sing the song. Cole said that this fabricated story sounded good, so he didn't argue with it. In fact, there was a customer one night who demanded that he sing, but because it was a song Cole didn't know, he sang ‘Sweet Lorraine’ instead. As people heard Cole's vocal talent, they requested more vocal songs, and he obliged.”
A song they played for a radio transcript called “Nothing Ever Happens” became the first that King Cole Trio recorded with Nat King Cole singing (July 22, 1940 for the record), but “Sweet Lorraine” was their first hit. Cole returned to Decca for the recording and they put a tune on the flipside that tip-toed around American anxieties about getting sucked into World War II, “Gone with the Draft.” With those two songs in their back pocket, the King Cole Trio embarked on a national tour. It carried them as far as Chicago (where they recorded “Slow Down”) and New York City (where they recorded “This Will Make You Laugh”), and when the 1942-44 musicians strike brought (nearly ) all recording to an end, all they could do was tour; long story short, musicians could play live all they wanted, but they couldn’t record anything but V-discs (recorded specifically for the troops and/or morale). The strike didn't hurt the King Cole Trio nearly as much as the 20+ ensembles of the swing era - fewer musicians to pay out, for one - but that wasn't their only advantage over the traditional big bands:
“But it was the interplay of his piano with Oscar Moore’s guitar that really made the group catch on at that point. Moore, who (inspired by Charlie Christian) had switched from acoustic to electric guitar, was at the top of his field, playing consistently swinging and inventive solos that, while often brief, added a great deal to the trio’s sound. Wesley Prince did a fine job in a supportive role with the trio and, after he was drafted in 1942, his place was taken by the equally skilled Johnny Miller.”
The big bands lumbered on through the war years, but their era had already ended. Smaller, nimbler acts and, more than anything else, leading vocalists came to dominate the popular music market by the end of the 1940s.
Once they were free to record again, the King Cole Trio returned to the studio with a vengeance - if without Prince (and I found no mention as to why Cole and Moore didn’t get drafted). Most significantly, they moved to Capitol Records, a new label founded by Johnny Mercer, “didn’t have all the qualms of signing black artists that older companies like Victor and Columbia had.” (Mercer actually joined the King Cole Trio on the single, “Save the Bones for Henry Jones,” in 1947.) They recorded a series of 78 rpm sets from 1944-49, each eponymously named The King Cole Trio, Vol. 2, Vol. 3, and Vol. 4 and kept getting bigger. Or at least Cole did.
“Before he became the ‘Unforgettable’ star of both music and television, Nat King Cole was just a work-a-day pianist in Los Angeles, trying desperately to secure his next gig.”
Like a lot of musicians of the era, Cole first learned music in the church where his father served as minister. It was his mother, however, who first sat him down in front of a church organ. The young man proved a quick study, playing his first song in front of a crowd at age four (“Yes, We Have No Bananas”; old one), but the Coles family was precocious like that: all three sons - in order, Eddie, Nat, Ike, and Freddy - went on to pursue careers in music.
The call came early for Cole, before the end of high school, in fact (I found no mention of what his parents thought of this). He took his first stab at forming a band in 1934, at age 15, with a group he named the Royal Dukes. When that act sputtered out, Cole found a place as a member of a touring band under Noble Sissle (again, nothing about his parents’ thoughts). Once he got back to Chicago, Nat Cole teamed up with his older brother Eddie to form a sextet called Eddie Cole’s Swingsters. That group enjoyed some local success, even managed to record a couple sides for Decca Records, but Sissle came calling again and Nat Cole went.
The offer was better this time, a role in the touring group of a revival of Sissle’s once-groundbreaking musical, Shuffle Along. That one decision changed his life. He met and married his first wife - Nadine Robinson, who was also part of the Shuffle Along tour - and, when the revival petered out in Los Angeles, the young couple decided they liked the city and the weather and settled down. It being the late 1930s, Cole attempted to organize one of the big bands that dominated the era. When that stab at the big time failed, Cole tried something novel for the time - i.e., bringing together a band that could fit on any stage, even a seedy nightclub: a trio.
The trio started playing as the King Cole Swingsters, and later clipped it to the King Cole Trio, but it featured the same members: Wesley Prince on double bass, Oscar Moore on guitar, and Cole on piano. They built up a decent local following and started making headway in another line of work: recording for radio transcriptions. They played their own material on some recordings, but also sat in as something like session musicians on others. From Syncopated Times:
“The music alternates hot swing instrumentals and ballads with vocalizing by the trio in worked out scat-filled unison passages on heated versions of standards and novelties. On some numbers the trio accompanies other singers (Bonnie Lake, Juanelda Carter, Maxine Johnson, Anita Boyer, Pauline and her Perils, and the Dreamers) but up to that time Cole was not singing solos and the group’s ballads tended to be instrumentals.” [Ed. - Pauline and her Perils is a dynamite name.]
Nat King Cole hid the smooth, effortless baritone that would later make him famous due to anxiety about growing up with a lisp, but he took his first step past it (perhaps apocryphally) in one night:
“According to legend, his career as a vocalist started when a drunken bar patron demanded that he sing the song. Cole said that this fabricated story sounded good, so he didn't argue with it. In fact, there was a customer one night who demanded that he sing, but because it was a song Cole didn't know, he sang ‘Sweet Lorraine’ instead. As people heard Cole's vocal talent, they requested more vocal songs, and he obliged.”
A song they played for a radio transcript called “Nothing Ever Happens” became the first that King Cole Trio recorded with Nat King Cole singing (July 22, 1940 for the record), but “Sweet Lorraine” was their first hit. Cole returned to Decca for the recording and they put a tune on the flipside that tip-toed around American anxieties about getting sucked into World War II, “Gone with the Draft.” With those two songs in their back pocket, the King Cole Trio embarked on a national tour. It carried them as far as Chicago (where they recorded “Slow Down”) and New York City (where they recorded “This Will Make You Laugh”), and when the 1942-44 musicians strike brought (nearly ) all recording to an end, all they could do was tour; long story short, musicians could play live all they wanted, but they couldn’t record anything but V-discs (recorded specifically for the troops and/or morale). The strike didn't hurt the King Cole Trio nearly as much as the 20+ ensembles of the swing era - fewer musicians to pay out, for one - but that wasn't their only advantage over the traditional big bands:
“But it was the interplay of his piano with Oscar Moore’s guitar that really made the group catch on at that point. Moore, who (inspired by Charlie Christian) had switched from acoustic to electric guitar, was at the top of his field, playing consistently swinging and inventive solos that, while often brief, added a great deal to the trio’s sound. Wesley Prince did a fine job in a supportive role with the trio and, after he was drafted in 1942, his place was taken by the equally skilled Johnny Miller.”
The big bands lumbered on through the war years, but their era had already ended. Smaller, nimbler acts and, more than anything else, leading vocalists came to dominate the popular music market by the end of the 1940s.
Once they were free to record again, the King Cole Trio returned to the studio with a vengeance - if without Prince (and I found no mention as to why Cole and Moore didn’t get drafted). Most significantly, they moved to Capitol Records, a new label founded by Johnny Mercer, “didn’t have all the qualms of signing black artists that older companies like Victor and Columbia had.” (Mercer actually joined the King Cole Trio on the single, “Save the Bones for Henry Jones,” in 1947.) They recorded a series of 78 rpm sets from 1944-49, each eponymously named The King Cole Trio, Vol. 2, Vol. 3, and Vol. 4 and kept getting bigger. Or at least Cole did.
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| After. |
Both Moore and Miller checked out after Vol. 3, so Cole had to bring in new members to record Vol. 4. Irving Ashby slotted in for Moore on guitar, and Joe Comfort for Miller on bass, but the more notable addition was a guy named Jack Costanzo on bongos. With the band no longer a democracy, they rebranded as Nat King Cole and his Trio and started exploring new sounds like bebop and Cuban rhythms. More importantly, Cole started recording and performing with string orchestras, including most of the songs that made his name, e.g., “The Christmas Song” (1947; a Mel Torme song, btw), “(Get Your Kicks on) Route 66,” “(I Love You) For Sentimental Reasons” (1946), “There! I've Said It Again” (1947), "Nature Boy,” “Frosty The Snowman,” and “Orange Colored Sky” (1950).
It was another song, 1950’s “Mona Lisa,” that made Cole a pop star and completed his pivot from the front-man of a trio to “the ‘Unforgettable’ star of both music and television.”
Cole’s story continues from there and, honestly, there’s some incredible shit in there - e.g., his run-ins with racism and his straight-up messy relationship to the civil rights movement (seriously, click that link; it’s wild) - but its mostly a story of more and greater success and bigger stages. He had a completely different, much larger career during the 50s and 60s - and I may or many not circle back when that time comes - but the man rolled with the biggest names of the era, if on the square/legacy side of things. He died early, in 1965 from lung cancer, the legacy of being a life-long, heavy smoker. An avalanche of public support followed from news of illness, but he lasted just six months after diagnosis.
About the Sampler
I linked to about half of it up above, but I pulled the rest from the various recording sessions the King Cole Trio recorded over the 1940s with Capitol. And, for what it’s worth, I cut out most of the slow, sappy numbers; those are sprinkled all over those sessions for anyone who wants to check them out. As for the actual selection, which I’ve organized in (loose) chronological order: “It’s Only a Paper Moon,” “Makin’ Whoopee,” (both covers, both good), “Prelude in C Sharp Minor,” “Easy Listenin’ Blues” (both instrumentals), “What Can I Say After I Say I’m Sorry?” (Cole had some fidelity issues), “I’m in the Mood for Love,” “I’ve Got a Way with Women” (see previous), “This Is My Night to Dream,” “The Frim Fram Sauce,” “Little Girl,” and, to close out with a couple from the Jack Costanzo era, “Yes Sir, That’s My Baby,” and “Bop-Kick.”
If there’s one thing that feels worth emphasizing in this chapter, it’s how much Nat King Cole counts as a transitional figure. After the big band era’s excess, he was key in taking jazz both forward and back to its roots with the smaller ensembles (most of the early bands had around five members, and they generally topped out at seven until Paul Whiteman came along). He also moved popular music forward with his choice of instruments - e.g., just a piano, a bass and a guitar; adding the bongos was its own whole thing. He was part of the transition to a period when the vocalists became the face of those smaller bands, and in some cases the only thing people paid any attention to. He also came up during a period when all involved swept scandals and peccadillos under the rug. Different, but also the same, in other words.
Till the next one.
It was another song, 1950’s “Mona Lisa,” that made Cole a pop star and completed his pivot from the front-man of a trio to “the ‘Unforgettable’ star of both music and television.”
Cole’s story continues from there and, honestly, there’s some incredible shit in there - e.g., his run-ins with racism and his straight-up messy relationship to the civil rights movement (seriously, click that link; it’s wild) - but its mostly a story of more and greater success and bigger stages. He had a completely different, much larger career during the 50s and 60s - and I may or many not circle back when that time comes - but the man rolled with the biggest names of the era, if on the square/legacy side of things. He died early, in 1965 from lung cancer, the legacy of being a life-long, heavy smoker. An avalanche of public support followed from news of illness, but he lasted just six months after diagnosis.
About the Sampler
I linked to about half of it up above, but I pulled the rest from the various recording sessions the King Cole Trio recorded over the 1940s with Capitol. And, for what it’s worth, I cut out most of the slow, sappy numbers; those are sprinkled all over those sessions for anyone who wants to check them out. As for the actual selection, which I’ve organized in (loose) chronological order: “It’s Only a Paper Moon,” “Makin’ Whoopee,” (both covers, both good), “Prelude in C Sharp Minor,” “Easy Listenin’ Blues” (both instrumentals), “What Can I Say After I Say I’m Sorry?” (Cole had some fidelity issues), “I’m in the Mood for Love,” “I’ve Got a Way with Women” (see previous), “This Is My Night to Dream,” “The Frim Fram Sauce,” “Little Girl,” and, to close out with a couple from the Jack Costanzo era, “Yes Sir, That’s My Baby,” and “Bop-Kick.”
If there’s one thing that feels worth emphasizing in this chapter, it’s how much Nat King Cole counts as a transitional figure. After the big band era’s excess, he was key in taking jazz both forward and back to its roots with the smaller ensembles (most of the early bands had around five members, and they generally topped out at seven until Paul Whiteman came along). He also moved popular music forward with his choice of instruments - e.g., just a piano, a bass and a guitar; adding the bongos was its own whole thing. He was part of the transition to a period when the vocalists became the face of those smaller bands, and in some cases the only thing people paid any attention to. He also came up during a period when all involved swept scandals and peccadillos under the rug. Different, but also the same, in other words.
Till the next one.
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