From the archives
Geoffrey Smith reminds us of Nat King Cole’s immense skills as a pianist and his flair for small-ensemble jazz
A funny thing happened to Nat King Cole on the way to becoming one of the stand-out pianists of his generation. He was waylaid by a fluke, a talent for singing he considered no more than a useful sideline, catapulting him from the keyboard to super-stardom as a velvet-voiced crooner on the iconic level of a Crosby or Sinatra. Indeed, his identity was so comprehensively transformed that his immense fan base scarcely knew he’d played piano at all, and regarded it as an amusing diversion.
So to put the record straight as to the depth of Nat King Cole’s artistic gifts, origins and legacy in the pantheon of jazz, it’s very satisfying to have a handsome seven-cd box. Hittin’ the Ramp: The Early Years (1936-1943) (Resonance HCD2042) covers his work from 1936-43, when the Nat King Cole trio set a brilliant standard for chamber jazz, spearheaded by Nat’s legerdemain on the keys with vocals as just one part of the act.
They were a terrific band, enormously slick and integrated, so the three parts of piano, guitar and bass rang remarkable changes in variety and colour. But the central element was Nat King Cole’s scintillating keyboard, giving the lead with wit and flashing technique. His main pianistic influence was Earl Fatha Hines, known for his bravura attack, which Nat distilled in a more focused, exuberant fashion, just the thing to tickle the hipster audiences of the 1940s. These tracks clearly display the qualities of a host of guitar-piano trios, not least Oscar Peterson, who always regarded Nat as his main man.
And the tracks themselves shine with shared inspiration, a band on fire. Their range is remarkable, from up-tempo showstoppers like ‘Honeysuckle Rose’ to the pure roots of ‘Easy Listening Blues’ and the laid-back group vocals of ‘Scotchin’ with the Soda’ and ‘Straighten Up and Fly Right’. And then of course there is Nat’s prophetic solo vocal turn, ‘Sweet Lorraine’, which remained his party piece – by accident, since he first sang it as a response to a listener’s request for a tune he didn’t know. But it still casts the unique Cole spell: deeply musical, consummately graceful, the sound of an artist who could bring the subtlety and imagination of jazz to everything he touched, even when he was a superstar swathed in Hollywood strings.