As an Italian-American I may be partial, but for me Louis Prima holds a special place in jazz history. He may not have been as understatedly elegant as Duke Ellington or as musically innovative as Stan Kenton, but he possessed something they lacked: a manic humor and energy that was inimitably contagious.
Prima could get a place moving, which is no small feat. He had a loose, extremely assured stage presence, with over-expressive, theatrical mugging, yet always with a glint of self-knowing humor, even when wailing a trumpet solo. Sure, no one will confuse his horn playing with Dizzy, Miles or that other Louis, but Prima could blow.
Louis Prima: In Person! His Wildest Performances 1936-1973 is a retrospective companion to the biographical documentary Louis Prima: The Wildest, and these titles, especially the exclamation point, say it all. From early short subjects to appearances on The Ed Sullivan Show and The Dinah Shore Chevy Show, this is nearly 40 years of exclamatory madness.
With an ethnic rasp and articulation of someone for whom English is a second language, Prima managed to come off both goofballish and sharp-witted. My father told me stories of Italian racism during Primaâs time and no doubt the bandleader heard his share of âdagoâ and âwopâ. But Prima was shamelessly ethnic. It may even be charged that he played into Italian-American stereotypes — the robust mamaâs boy singing about pasta fagioli — but Prima transcends, or closer, rides down all these arguments through the exuberance and power of his talent. As Italian as he was, he was born more an Entertainer.
That was in New Orleans in 1910. Although this release is all about the music, host Louis Prima Jr. introduces each song with a short history, so we get a general background of his fatherâs career: his early years playing with the New Orleans Gang (which included clarinetist Pee Wee Russell), where his distinctive comic personality was already intact; his 22 piece orchestra and; his most popular outfit with vocalist Keely Smith and saxophonist Sam Butera.
I know him most from his Italian-American novelty songs of the ’50s, represented here by early television performances of âCome On-a My Houseâ (one of my fatherâs favorites) and âOh, Marieâ, and itâs fun to see Prima play to the dagos (hey, weâre allowed to go after our own). I watched the DVD with my mother and she could barely contain herself, laughing at every bit of Italian from capicole to scungilli.
Inarguably Primaâs most popular band was with Keely Smith and Sam Butera & the Witnesses. Prima Jr. calls Smith the âbored deadbeatâ to Primaâs âanimated wild manâ, and this comic dichotomy is something to behold. With her razor-helmet haircut, flat face and Buster Keaton eyes, Smith is like an existential sphinx or statue that can suddenly break character to ape Primaâs antics, mock his mugging, or belt a few bars. Add Butera and Prima exchanging nonsensical scat — is there any other kind? — and you have a special brand of lunacy: part jazz band/part comedy troupe, evenly distributed. Rehearsals mustâve been nuts.
I donât know if these filmed performances were the groupâs wildest, but theyâre all a blast: Keely killing âCanât Help Lovinâ That Mine of Mineâ (1955); âWhen the Saints Go Marching Inâ (1955), with tempo changes from slump to jump, so wacky even the cameraman canât keep up; âThat Old Black Magicâ (1959), my momâs favorite and one of Primaâs biggest hits; and a 1959 performance of âIâve Got You Under My Skinâ that proves Prima and Smith a comic duo worthy of the best of them.
Not just Prima and Smith, but Prima and Butera, as well. The two played together for over 20 years, and they have an infectious, in-joke Ratto Pack camaraderie. Their performance of âCoolinââ from the âTwistâ-era movie Twist All Night (1961) is fun to watch just to watch the fun theyâre having.
After Smith left to pursue a successful solo career, Prima hired singer Gia Maione, ultimately Mrs. Louis Prima. Though lacking Smithâs comic chops (at least in the clips here), Maione is a sweet and playful singer, as shown on the fast-talking âI Want You to Be My Babyâ (1964).
Prima had no compulsions about staying current and popular. He worked throughout the ’60s and early ’70s, famously voicing King Louis in Walt Disneyâs Jungle Book (1967). Later television performances provided here are the Prima-penned âSing, Sing, Singâ, with drummer Jimmy Vincent doing a smoking, and I mean smoking solo thatâs also literally tricky, and a 1971 version of âJust A Gigoloâ. Itâs kind of funny seeing Prima, Butera and Vincent with their new band of long hairs, but as Prima Jr. points out, his father lived to âplay pretty for the peopleâ.
Sadly, Prima died in 1978, after a three-year coma following a surgical complication. Itâs hard to imagine such a lively man so still for so long.
The extras are as good as anything in the film proper: Swing It!, a kind of Prima promo, is a historically fascinating 1936 short film with Prima and his New Orleans Gang as themselves (and a young Lucille Ball as a coat-check girl); besides some great music and hammy acting, the film contains a hysterical trumpet/clarinet âargumentâ between Prima and Pee Wee Russell.
Also, a 1943 performance of âSing, Sing, Singâ with Jimmy Vincent doing another outstanding solo; Keely again, on the classic medley âWhen Youâre Smiling/Sheik of Arabyâ (1959); another song by the comedy team of Louis and Sam, âStory âBout The Dogâ (1965); and a nice 2010 performance of his dadâs âJump, Jive and Wailâ by Louis Prima Jr. & The Witnesses.