1. There are two basic versions of every voicing, one with the 3rd  (above the bass) on the bottom (the A version) and one with the 7th  (above the bass) on the bottom (the B version).  Good voice leading switches the two, so that the 3rd in the m7 chord resolves to the 7th in the next chord, and the 7th to the 3rd. Simply play this progression, and keep going with the pattern established; Am7 D7 Gmaj7, Gm7 C7 Fmaj7, Fm7 Bb7 Ebmaj7, Ebm7 Ab7 Dbmaj7, C#m7 F#7 Bmaj7, Bm7 E7 Amaj7.  Notice each series of three chords progresses downward in whole steps.

2. In this example, the same progression is played, but now in descending half      steps.

3. This is the same as #1, but with the 3rd and 7th reversed.

4. This is the same as #2, but with the 3rd and 7th reversed.

5. This is the same as #1, but with an added note, either the 9th or the 6th. The right hand is actually a great left hand voicing, too. So practice this with the hands reversed. Same with #6.

6. Same as #2 with the added note.

7. Now, we’ve added a 3rd or 7th to the left hand. This is called a “shell” voicing, and often serves in bebop piano as a minimal accompaniment to a linear right hand when there’s no bass player. We’ve changed the right hand so there’s no  3rd  or 7th. Notice that there’s NO duplication of notes. This makes the voicing more sophisticated and contemporary sounding.

8. Same concept as #7 with the harmonic progression of #2. I’ve transposed the voicings so they sound good even when they get lower. In general, avoid the 3rd sounding below the C below middle C.

- Bill Cunliffe

Joe LaBarbera (left to right), Martin Wind, Scott Robinson and Bill Culiffe.

The great thing about traveling is that you really see how other people live, and how it’s, alternatively, similar and different from the way we do. Things we do better here in America, and things we’ve forgotten, that made us great, initially.

In a similar way, I like to think of myself as a “passionate centrist,” as talk show host Dennis Prager used to talk about himself as, politically. I believe, and I don’t know why anyone would dispute it, that we should keep what is good in society, and get rid of what doesn’t work.

My biggest complaint about our society, and how it’s changed, is that yes, the computer makes everything faster, but then the expectation is you have to do more, so, no time saved. And you have to care and feed the machine, so it’s a net loss. But, I have to look on the bright side and see that  individuals can be creative in a way they never could have before. And artists can totally do their own thing, without bowing to “the man.” So long as the government doesn’t control the internet (Syria!!), we’re OK.

The seminal book by Mihaly Csikszentmihalyi, (don’t ask me to pronounce it), “Flow,” talks about the way to happiness being that of being absorbed by an activity that produces flow, which is often described as “time speeding by,” “arousal”, “relaxation,” and “being in the moment.” He describes it as, “being completely involved in an activity for its own sake. The ego falls away. Time flies. Every action, movement, and thought follows inevitably from the previous one, like playing jazz. Your whole being is involved, and you’re using your skills to the utmost.”

Now, it makes sense to me that if a society can preserve the things that allow people to do this, it’s to all our benefit.  People would be happier, more productive (my kids at Fullerton work much harder when they are in flow), and I would imagine crime and things like that might go down. What kinds of things encourage flow in a society?

Love (family, relationships), music and the arts, food (local and organic food preparation), spirituality (yes, churches), health (good medical care, both preventive and  curative) and a sense of joy. And of course, economic prosperity, freedom, and democracy! Feeling like you make a difference.

Wanda Lau showing off a spectacular Italian dessert in Pesaro, before one of our gigs with the Martin Wind (background) Quartet and the Philharmonic Orchestra Marchigiana.

As great as we are as a nation, there are so many things that a place like Italy does better.

One can’t argue with the food, its freshness, the variety, and the excellence of its preparation. The siesta in the afternoon, that may decrease efficiency at that hour, but perhaps make life more enjoyable, and stress-free, and increase efficiency down the line. The beautiful ancient public squares that actually attract young people to walk, talk and hang together.

Furthermore, Italy is blessed with hundreds of medium sized theatres that encourage productions of music, and theatre at a not prohibitive cost. And its culture of celebrating beauty has many of us just sighing with pleasure as we look at a great looking Lancia, an ancient church, or a brunette!

I cry out, in anguish: Why can’t we be more like Italy, but still keep the essential things about America that are great!? Remember the two martini lunch? How many great plans were hatched over those?

You know the old joke:

Heaven, where the police are British, the cooks French, the mechanics German, the lovers Italian, and it is all organized and run by the Swiss. Hell, where the police are German, the cooks British, the mechanics French, the lovers Swiss, and it is all organized and run by the Italians!

Interior of the Teatro Rossini, Pesaro.

After the three orchestral gigs, we spent a day at a lovely winery outside of Brisighella. We tried to play a set outdoors, but the weather got in the way!

After that, we did a gig in Graz, Austria, where the lovely Dena DeRose sat in with us. Then to Germany, for a gig in Nuremberg, and finally, a clinic and concert in Neuberg, home of the great Birdland jazz club.

The flights home were blessedly free of stress. See you soon!

Ciao!!

Bill Cunliffe

Martin Wind Quartet (me and Joe LaBarbera, drums, Martin, bass, and Scott Robinson, sax, with the Orchestra Philharmonie Marchegiana in the Teatro Pergolesi playing my arrangement of Bill Evans’ “Twelve Tone Tune Two.“

They  say Italy doesn’t matter. You know, low birth rate, economic woes, the corrupt politics of Berlusconi, the transfer of quality, niche manufacturing to China, etc.

But you go there and . . .

My friend, bassist Martin Wind, hooked up some symphony concerts featuring the music of Bill Evans with his quartet and the Philharmonic Orchestra of the Marche region. We stayed for six days in the small city of Jesi, near Ancona, an industrial city on the Adriatic halfway down the boot of Italy.

Joe and Gillian LaBarbera, with our chef and my girlfriend Wanda Lau.

The hotel was a small pension, fairly non-descript, but comfortable. Our first morning, we took a walk along the main street. Much small business, the usual coffee shops and small appliance stores,  nothing really special.  Lots of cute Italian Fiats  and Alfas, perhaps a bit more stylish and sturdy than I remember as a kid in the US. Passed a very grim 50’s style hospital, and then saw some lovely large homes, somewhat in need of a little tender loving care. Spacious parks, lawns needing a little care, and lots of funeral notices.

Wandering back to our hotel, we went up the ancient steps a few hundred feet in the other direction, and we saw something quite different. A lovely, walled medieval city, with 15^th and 16^th century churches and homes, beautifully maintained. Quaint little shops, pizzerias, stationery stores, fashion boutiques. Still very quiet. It was 3 p.m., the middle of the afternoon break. We grabbed a cappuccino at a little cafe, and had a seat.

Wanda in Jesi medieval section, middle of afternoon.

About an hour later, the shops all started to open, and the young people started to emerge. Then the parents, and grandparents, and the little children. All walking about, chatting, playing, shopping, eating, and drinking. The ancient rhythm of life, maintained here in the age of the internet and cellphone. Musicians set up to play, duos, trios. A violinist and guitarist actually made it through “I’ll Remember April,” with the right chords!

We had dinner at a delightful little restaurant, Vincanto. Great food, service, and four (count ‘em) desserts. The chef thanked us personally. You felt like you were dining at a friend’s house.  Most restaurants in the U.S. would like you to feel that way, but don’t quite do it . . .  but it really seemed true here.

Now the street was in full eruption, with bars, and young people drinking, laughing all around the  beautiful 17^th century Teatro Pergolesi, renamed after the young Jesi composer who barely made it to 26, and inspired Stravinsky’s Pulcinella. The merriment continued until 2 a.m., when the bars closed and the young people made their way (perhaps staggering!) home.

Teatro Pergolesi

We did our first concert in the Teatro Pergolesi the next night with the Orchestra Philharmonie Marchegianna,  and their conductor, Massimo Morganti. They were a young group, and they played absolutely beautifully, and with great spirit and sense of fun.

So does Italy matter? I’ll talk about that more in my next blog. You can probably  guess some of the reasons why I think it does!!

Piacere!

Bill

Bill Cunliffe and his Grammy from 2010. Cunliffe lost his bid for two in a row to Billy Childs.

This was a bittersweet year for me at the Grammys. I was there because the orchestral piece, “fourth stream… La Banda,” that I wrote for my friend, trumpeter Terell Stafford, and the Temple University Orchestra, was nominated for Best Original Composition, the first time I’ve been nominated in this category.

I regard it as my best work in this genre. The Temple faculty were so excited that a bunch of them came out, including Dean Robert Stroker, conductor Luis Biava, financial officer Linda Fiore, and development director Tara Webb Duey, and some of their family. The night before, we had a spectacular dinner at Spago, and there was lots of anticipation in the air.

In past years, I’ve never prepared a speech, and never thought I had a chance to win, but . . . THIS YEAR!? We rehearsed our moves, what to say, how for them to follow me up to the podium, etc, etc. We had hoped to be the little engine that could, the tough state school with young musicians and a first time nominee in the category.

But it was not to be. Billy Childs, a friend and colleague, and great composer and jazz pianist, won for his Chamber Jazz Project. A masterpiece, recorded with world class musicians.

The air went out of the room among us. But we put on our game faces, and sat through the rest of the ceremony.

I agree with Branford Marsalis when he recently said that today’s popular music isn’t really for his generation, and that he wanted to pursue what interested him in classical and art music. But, as a professor at Cal State Fullerton, I still am always curious about what the young enjoy in music.  I’m usually quite pleased by my students’ taste. They like things that are alternatively melodic, and, outrageous.

The afternoon ceremony was filled with good vibes; the highlight for me was Bobby McFerrin and Esperanza Spaulding singing an unaccompanied duet on Miles Davis’ “Freedom Jazz Dance.” Kathy Griffin was hilarious as MC, many of her comments unprintable here.

The evening ceremony, musically not for people over 50 like myself, nevertheless had some high moments. Barbra Streisand, with a huge orchestra sounding very good despite a shaky opening in “Evergreen;” Mick Jagger singing and strutting around like someone at least twenty years younger; Lady Antebellum demonstrating a pleasing country pop with a lovely female lead. And Cee Lo Green and Gwyneth Paltrow were surprisingly funky and fun.

The Grammys have made, I think, the correct choice in making the thing play well on TV, so the requisite Lady Gaga pop production and choreography got the crowd buzzing, as did Eminem, to me he is a one trick pony, but good at what he does. I might add that the trumpeter Conte Condoli said the same thing about Mussolini.

Hopefully see you again next year!

Oliver Nelson

For the last two years, I’ve been playing and enjoying the music of Oliver Nelson in support of my CD “Blues and the Abstract Truth, Take 2,” and as I’m getting ready to embark on some new projects, I’d like to give some closing thoughts.

Oliver Nelson is one of those big “what ifs” in jazz, along with people like Clifford Brown, Scott LaFaro, and Charlie Christian. This immensely talented man, who excelled at the alto sax, jazz composing and arranging, and film/TV composition,  died at the age of 40 in 1975 from, apparently, overwork.

I first was introduced to his seminal work, “The Blues and the Abstract Truth,” at the age of 22 while in graduate school at Eastman School of Music, where we performed the entire recording in concert. For me, it was one of those brilliant blips on the jazz radar, an all star cast of greats playing simple, yet compelling compositions that hinted at genius by a young  guy who, although very productive in his career, didn’t fulfill the promise of those early works.

What was so interesting about this record is that these musicians got together only for this date and never again, and the concept of the album, although revisited somewhat in his “More Blues and the Abstract Truth,” side, was never really taken farther. But what remains great about this record, besides the spectacular playing of Freddie Hubbard, Bill Evans, Roy Haynes, Eric Dolphy and Nelson himself, is the combination of incredibly compelling tunes with a very loose structure that allowed for jazz “blowing” of the highest order. Everyone seemed really “ on their game” on this unique session.

I later found other works of his, workman-like arrangements for big band, a saxophone sonata, and some extended works for jazz orchestra. All of these hint at a genius that was only partially realized; the spirit of a great jazz player combined with the inspiration and skill of a great composer and orchestrator. “Ollie, we hardly knew ye,” to paraphrase a John F. Kennedy admirer.

It was such a pleasure to take these six pieces that constitute “The Blues and the Abstract Truth,” and put them through my own grist mill of sounds and harmonies. I really didn’t want to change them, just to play them the way I heard them, and give the “cats” the same chance to blow that Oliver gave his men.

As time goes on, I throw these at other guys on the road, and it still gives me the same pleasure it did when I wrote them for the first time.  George Klabin heard one of these gigs, and insisted that we record it. I’m eternally grateful to him for this opportunity.

Don Gordon of KIPO FM between Noe Tanagawa of Hawaii Public Radio and Bill.

An Hawaiian love song?

I’ve always been, I  have wanted to convince myself, an adventurer. No one would ever confuse me with Richard Branson, but during my single days, I’ve skydived in North Carolina, gone to Brazil, Argentina, Bahrain and Turkey,  toured Japan, New Zealand and Thailand, studied Spanish in Mexico, backpacked across Europe, and, with people like Buddy Rich, Frank Sinatra and on my own gigs, slept in hotel rooms in dozens of countries.

But now I have a wonderful girlfriend named Wanda, and her wishes now figure into my travel plans.

This last year was probably the busiest one of my life. I wrote probably a dozen big-band charts, and the orchestral trumpet concerto “fourth stream… La Banda” for my friend Terell Stafford; wrote a jazz keyboard book for Alfred Music; taught full time at Cal State Fullerton, and the most strenuous activity, got my house refinanced (no thanks to the evil Chase Bank, with whom I have never been late with a payment for ten years, who turned me down even though my house is worth four times what I owe on it, I have 800 credit scores, and I could have simply paid off the mortage with a check).

Oh yeah, did you hear I won my first-ever Grammy this year! What a year. So, I’m a pretty tired guy at the end of this. Hey, as great as Wanda is, having a girlfriend can be a bit of work, too!

So it just made sense to go to Hawaii, flip-and-flop on a beach with my girl, who looks great in a bikini. Wanda works even harder than I do, as a copy editor for the Los Angeles Times, a 40-hour job that turns out usually to be 50 or 55. We agreed, we were going to CHILL.

Performing at Hawaii Public Radio with bassist Bruce Hamada.

But I wanted to do something interesting. So the agreement was, eight days – four days doing, four days flopping. And my dear friend and Red Sox fan, Don Gordon, legendary jazz disc jockey (yeah, there are a few of those left!) at KIPO in Honolulu, got me a gig at Hawaii Public Radio in the Atherton, a great recital hall with a lovely seven-foot Bosendorfer with the extra keys in the low octave. An old friend lives there, Bruce Hamada, the best bass player in the islands, takes after the great Ray Brown stylistically, and is a wonderful singer.

So it was agreed  . . .  I’d do half the gig myself, and half with Bruce.

(Here’s a podcast interview I did with Hawaii Public Radio’s Noe Tanagawa. Just click here to listen)

Our first stop was the Sheraton Waikiki. The fabulous king room with ocean views promised by my travel agent, procured at a price akin to highway robbery, was, alas, too good to be true.

The helpful staff at the Sheraton informed us that the agent bought the room at Priceline, which, I know, doesn’t offer you any choice of room style or bedding. Hmm. I contacted our travel agent and she assured us she would try to help. We e-mailed her back the next day, after the hotel had said, not only did they not hear from her, but that the hotel was sold out for weeks. We sighed, and said, well, this is really great, and if you position your chair 180 degrees on the left hand side of the balcony, you can, indeed, catch a glimpse of the ocean. A periscope would have been even better.

So we counted our blessings, checked in,  and went for cocktails at a local hotel that had an outstanding Hawaiian group there . . . three singers playing, respectively, ukulele, guitar and bass. And a lovely Hawaiian folk dancer.

You know, I usually love lots of chord changes in my tunes, but when you’re sipping a mai tai and looking at the surfers mounting those amazing waves, Hawaiian music sounds just great.

A friend once asked me what is Hawaiian music? I said, take country music, and add a little Polynesian vocal stylings, and top off with that rhythm you hear in every Hawaiian word. HA-ne_A-ka-La. HO-no-LU-lu. That old big-band tune, “Hawaiian War Chant,” echoed in my ears. It stuck me that this must have been what musicians first feel when landing on a tropical island.

You’ve all seen this: The plane lands and the musician hears the rather loud rumble of what can only be described as jungle drums. He asks the flight attendant what it is, and she says, “Don’t ask, sir. If it stops, it’s going to be a lot worse!” So he gets his luggage and gets in a cab to his hotel. The drums are a lot louder now, and he says to the taxi driver, “What the hell IS that sound?” The driver, a huge Samoan, shrugs his shoulders and says, “Man, don’t complain. If it stops, it will be MUCH worse. Buy some earplugs at the ABC store!”

By the time he reaches his destination, the doors are rumbling and the glass is vibrating from the deafening sound. But then it stops. The Samoan moans, “Dude, we’re in BIG trouble now. This hasn’t happened in years!”

“What? What? What are you talking about!”

“Bro, it’s gonna be a BASS solo, now.”

Ba-DUM-bum.

Part II . . . later.

LA Jazz Scene: What is a typical week like for you? Are you highly scheduled or do you have enough free time for yourself?

Bill: I teach at Cal State Fullerton from Tuesday through Thursday, so those days are packed. I have to be there by 10 a.m. Living in Studio City, that can be a challenge just getting there. My iPhone has a great GPS program on it, though, so I can usually figure out the best way to get there in under an hour.

I get out of school around 7 p.m., and might just do homework, grade papers, etc, until 8. Then I’m home in about 50 minutes. Often I stay down there one night a week . . . there are many good cheap hotels down there.

I teach improvisation, direct four combos, a big band, have five piano students and teach arranging or jazz history. It’s a lot crammed into three days, but I really enjoy my students.

LAJS: You lived in New York for some time. You sent us columns from N.Y. so we got an idea about the jazz scene there. Why did you return to L.A.? What didn’t you like about New York?

Bill: I’ve been torn between N.Y. and L.A. for quite some time. I still have a place in N.Y., which is rented out a lot, and I love the people there, the scene, the energy. But it’s expensive, and living there takes up a lot of energy.

LAJS: It seems you’ve found enough work to satisfy you here in L.A. What makes L.A. good for musicians – the weather, connections, networking, more recording opportunities, etc. What do you think it is for you?

Bill Cunliffe flanked by trumpeter Terell Stafford and girlfriend Wanda Lau

Bill: For me, work has been good in L.A. and I have a great church here (All Saints in Pasadena where I’m composer in residence) and a great girlfriend, Wanda Lau, who is a copy editor for the L.A. Times. And the weather doesn’t hurt, either!

I never got into the studio scene here, just fell in with great players, such as John Clayton, Clay Jenkins, Bob Sheppard and Joe LaBarbera, and just couldn’t leave. Trombonist Bruce Paulson, who now lives in New Zealand, had a great weekly jam session at his house . . . that’s where I met a lot of my friends.

I do feel that because I travel a lot, L.A. is cool. If I were dependent on the L.A. jazz scene for my happiness, it wouldn’t be enough. It’s a very good scene, don’t get me wrong, and very underrated, but one night in N.Y., or even Chicago, tells you there’s a lot more out there.

These days, I’m as much a composer as a player, and L.A. is good for that. Excellent engineers and recording studios, and plenty of great players on every instrument. As the industry recording thing declines, it’s actually better for composers now, because you can get your stuff played and recorded, and these amazing players are available and interested in new things.

LAJS: You were nominated for a Grammy and won. Tell me about the recording and how it came about. What made it special for you?

Bill: George Klabin, a fine studio engineer (and owner of a health food supply company) recently started a record label,Resonance Records. We had done a record, “Blues and the Abstract Truth, Take 2, (the music of Oliver Nelson)” and we were very pleased with it. He knew I was an arranger, and he wanted me to help him do a tribute album to the music of Oscar Peterson.

He knew of a Romanian pianist, Marian Petrescu, now living in Finland, who he said was the perfect guy. Boy, he was right on that one. Marian is amazing . . . really can do Oscar, technically. And a beautiful cat, easy to work with, and a lovely spirit.

Growing up, Oscar was my favorite player, and even though I had to get away from him, somewhat, to find myself, I thought the project would be a lot of fun. We picked out some of the repertoire together, and I really wanted to do some things from the Oscar “West Side Story,” album. George was like, “I don’t know, it’s a lot of stuff, too much music,” and I reminded him of the classic Buddy Rich arrangement of “West Side” that I played every night for a year and a half.

I thought we could do a 13-14 minute medley of the stuff, and it would be a real big hit, especially on live gigs. He agreed, and we did it, and it came out great. In fact, he said, “This is a Grammy winner,” and I poo-pooed him. But he was right!

LAJS: Tell me what the whole Grammy timeline is: How are you nominated, by mail or a phone call? Then what happens? What’s the time element here, weeks, months? How did you feel when you were nominated? Who was the first person you called with the news?

Bill Cunliffe gets lots of love on his Grammy-winning night from friends and singers April Williams (left) and Denise Donatelli at Vitello's in Studio City.

Bill: Grammy submissions are due in the fall. If you’re a member, you can nominate yourself, or someone else who is a member can nominate you. To be a member, you have to have recorded or participated in an album that’s available nationwide, which means it’s primarily musicians, engineers and producers who vote.

There are three levels, a call for ballot submissions, a call for final nominations in each category, and a final vote for the winner, which is announced in the end of January. The members vote, as far as I can tell, for the final nominations, and the winner.

There are committees of respected experts, in each chapter, there are 12 or 13 of them. They are a factor in the voting, which is great, because the Grammy, to win, your peers have to vote for you. From what I can tell, and I’m not an expert, it’s a combination of the chapters, and the popular vote.

I’m savvy enough to know that as a jazz player I’m competing with the universe, but the arranging category is a bit smaller, so the odds of recognition are a little better.

This was my third nomination. I really didn’t expect to win, there were some great entrants in my area, Jeremy Lubbock, Michael Giaccino and Vince Mendoza, one of my personal heroes. But it was a real thrill.

LAJS: Tell me what it’s like to actually stand on the stage and accept the Grammy. What were you feeling?

Bill: If you go on grammys.com, and scroll to minute 27 of the awards (it has since been taken down) you can see me, breathlessly running up to the front. I was sitting in the back with my girlfriend, Wanda, and friends Tierney Sutton and Alan Kaplan, her husband.

I wasn’t expecting to win, obviously, so I was way in the back, just talking. For whatever reason, I had sketched out my “bullet points” in the bizarre case of having to make a speech –  you gotta thank George Klabin, the owner of the label, the cats in the band, your girlfriend, Oscar Peterson (since I borrowed much from him in the arrangement), and, of course, Leonard Bernstein.

When I got up there, I saw that in the band were a lot of friends, Ron King, Brandon Fields, etc, and I said, to no one in particular, “Yeah, getting an award is nice, but you guys have a GIG! Get me on it!!”

I’ve heard from so many friends about the award, and it’s been a wonderful experience, but I returned to earth very quickly. The next day, I was sitting in my living room with dozens of Cal State Fullerton student schedules sprawled around me, trying to figure out who’s playing in the jazz small groups there. (Sigh)

Winning the Grammy has made me a little less obsessive/compulsive about my career. I always feel like I don’t do enough, I need to study, create more, hustle more work, etc, etc. All you musicians know how that is. But I can relax a little bit more.

I certainly don’t have to worry about winning the Grammy ever again, or being concerned about how people think about me. And, more importantly, I can really reflect that I’ve taken, maybe not the perfect life path, but a very good one, and I’ve done pretty much the best I can to make the most of myself.

LAJS : What are your future plans? What are looking forward to, more collaborations, composing, or something entirely new?

Temple University Symphony Orchestra performing at Lincoln Center's Alice Tully Hall with Luis Biava conducting and Terell Stafford on Trumpet.

Bill: What I’m really excited about now is the N.Y. premiere of a concerto I’ve written for trumpeter Terell Stafford and the Temple University Symphony Orchestra. It’s called “fourth stream… La Banda,” and it’s a fusion of jazz, classical and Latin music. They are doing it at Lincoln Center in two weeks, and recording it next week. I have always loved the orchestra, and it was a thrill to write exactly what I wanted to write, and get it played. (These performances were in April 2010)

LAJS: If you weren’t a musician, what would you choose to do to make a living? I’m just being curious here, maybe you have other talents or skills that mean a lot to you.

Bill: I’m lucky to live in Studio City, just two blocks from a very fine Italian restaurant, Vitello’s. Many of you remember it from the Robert Blake days.

I used to take people on my Studio City/Hollywood tour. I take them to Robert Blake’s old house, it used to have written on it, “Mata Hari Ranch.” eeecchh! Then I’d take them to Vitellos, and show them the dumpster. Well, not THAT dumpster, but any old one. You just make up things, like the double decker bus drivers in N.Y.C. do. According to them, Madonna lives in about eight different apartments in New York. Anyway, then I take them to the Brady Bunch house on Dilling, the one they showed at the beginning of the program.

April Williams has been managing the music there for over a year now, and she’s a great lady, supports the cats, does everything right. The room is acoustically excellent, and the young sound guys are cool, into the music, and do their job. She’s had a few big bands in there, and it sounds fantastic. So I decided to do, perhaps, the dumbest thing, the most foolhardy thing a musician can do.

Start a big band.

Well, for one night, anyway. My old friend Bruce Paulson did this for a gig in Alaska, announcing, “this is the first AND last gig of the Bruce Paulson Big Band.” And it was, too.

This night, in April (2010), will be a little less stressful. Just an hour-and-a-half, and we’ll finish with the Grammy-winning “West Side Story” arrangement. I’m getting as many of the cats from the session that I can. We’ll start with champagne at 7:30, and the band kicks off at 8:30 until 11. Should be fun. If you have a lot of champagne, we’ll sound even better.

Future plans?

I’m a little bit in transition. I’ve been writing so much, the piano looks lonesome over there. Gotta go give it some love!! Flutist Holly Hofmann and I have a duo, and we have a new record out on Capri Records (“Three’s Company”), and we’re going to do more with that.

And I’m going to Hawaii in June with my girlfriend, Wanda. We recently celebrated a year together, to the amazement of my friends!

One of the biggest thrills of my life was winning a Grammy Award earlier this year.

I’ve been nominated three times, and, really, that’s enough. It means your peers respect you and know about what you’re doing, and that’s good enough. I’m savvy enough to know that as a jazz player I’m competing with the universe. But the arranging category is a bit smaller, so the odds of recognition are a little better.

But, I was honored, with the 2010 Best Instrumental Arrangement Grammy for the chart I wrote for Resonance Records’ “Tribute to Oscar Peterson.”

If you go on grammys.com, and scroll to minute 27 of the awards, you can see me, breathlessly running up to the front. I had been sitting in the back with my girlfriend, Wanda Lau, and friends Tierney Sutton and Alan Kaplan, her husband. I wasn’t expecting to win, obviously, so I was way in the back, just talking.

For whatever reason, I had sketched out my “bullet points” in the bizarre case of having to make a speech –  you gotta thank George Klabin, the owner of the label, Resonance Records; the cats in the band; your girlfriend; Oscar Peterson, since I’d borrowed much from him in the arrangement. And, of course, Leonard Bernstein.

When I got up on the stage, I saw a lot of friends sitting in the band – Ron King, Brandon Fields, etc – and I said, to no one in particular, “Yeah, getting an award is nice, but you guys have a GIG! Get me on it!!”

I’ve heard from so many friends about the award, and it’s been a wonderful experience, but I returned to earth very quickly. The next day, I was sitting in my living room with dozens of Cal State Fullerton student schedules sprawled around me, trying to figure out who’s playing in the jazz small groups there. Sigh.

I’m lucky to live in Studio City, just two blocks from a very fine Italian restaurant, Vitello’s. Many of you remember it from the Robert Blake days. I used to take people on my Studio City/Hollywood tour. I’d take them to Blake’s old house, where once, tagged on a wall, were the words “Mata Hari Ranch.” eeecchh! Then I’d take them to Vitello’s and show them “the dumpster.”

Well, OK, not THAT dumpster, but any old one I saw. You just make up things, like the double-decker bus drivers in NYC do. According to them, Madonna lives in about eight different apartments. Then I’d take them to the Brady Bunch house, on Dilling, the one they showed at the beginning of the program. Quite the contrast, don’t ya think?

April Williams has been managing the music at Vitello’s for more than a year now, and she’s a great lady, supports the cats, does everything right. The room is acoustically excellent, and the young sound guys are cool, into the music, and do their job. April has had a few big bands into Vitello’s, and it sounds fantastic.

So I decided to do, perhaps, the dumbest thing, the most foolhardy thing, a musician could do. Start a big band. Well, for one night, anyway.

My old friend Bruce Paulson did this for a gig in Alaska, announcing, “This is the first AND last gig of the Bruce Paulson Big Band.” And it was, too.

Next Saturday night, April 17, will be a little less stressful at Vitello’s. In just an hour and a half, we’ll finish with the Grammy-winning “West Side Story” arrangement, then we’ll do some other material. It will be a bit of a surprise.

I’m getting as many of the cats from the original session that I can. We’ll start with champagne at 7:30, and the band kicks off at 8:30 until 11.

This should be fun and if you have a lot of champagne, we’ll sound even better.

Temple University's Terell Stafford and the Temple Symphony perform Bill Cunliffe's "fourth stream . . . La Banda"

A couple of weeks ago, I was in Philadelphia, visiting friends at Temple University,where I taught for three years. I really loved Temple, but the chance to live full-time in So Cal again was pretty irresistible, so I took a job at Cal State Fullerton in 2007.

I’ve remained close to folks back in Philly, and they asked me to write a piece for my favorite trumpet player, the great Terell Stafford, who is head of jazz studies at Temple.

I called it “fourth stream . . . La Banda” because Gunther Schuller called the mix of jazz and classical music the “third stream.” My piece combined those two with Latin music, hence, “fourth stream.” “La Banda” because it’s kind of, at times, a battle between the Latin jazz percussion section and the orchestra. The Latin band wins out.

Luis Biava and the Temple Symphony premiered the piece at Verizon Hall in Philadelphia, the place where the Philadelphia Orchestra performs. Biava, for many years, was the guest resident conductor there and he was totally up to the task of conducting this score.

With that score, I tried to show a wide range of orchestral colors. Some of its tempo and time changes took everyone a little time to get used to, but once they did, the piece took off.

When we read the piece down a few weeks ago in Philly, Terell mentioned that he didn’t feel the ending was “big” enough. He thought I ought to give the Latin percussion more to do, especially near the end.

Maestro Biava thought the piece was a little long, as well. So I shortened a few sections and rewrote the ending, having the percussion go into a double-time mambo while the orchestra is still playing a slower 12/8 Afro-Cuban groove.

Boy, was that the ticket. The piece just went into overdrive, and the finale was spectacular – standing ovation and all. I know that’s not all the composer’s doing … if you end loud and don’t lose the audience during the piece, they will love it.

But the lyrical moments of the piece came through beautifully, and the avant-garde opening, with the woodwinds playing random rhythms on top of a double bass and tympani drone, was very effective.

I have to say that sitting in the home of the Philadelphia Orchestra, one of my favorite musical aggregations of all time (you could get all their mid-Sixties Columbia LP’s at a good price when I was a kid!) and hearing a hundred talented musicians playing my music was one of my all time musical experiences.

I’m very grateful. I was sitting next to Chris Brubeck (of that Brubeck), who wrote a lovely piece accompanying Ansel Adams portraits projected on huge screens above the audience, and we gave each other hearty thumbs up.

The best thing is, I get to do it all over again. They’re playing the piece on April 9 at New York’s Lincoln Center Alice Tully Hall. And they’ll play it even better.