James Moody (1925 – 2010)
Today marks the 98th anniversary of the birth of James Moody.
And today marks, approximately, the 22nd anniversary of Moody meeting me.
April 2001. We were both involved with the Cape May Jazz Festival.
Yes, before the “Exit Zero” celebrations, it was simply the “Cape May Jazz Festival,” started in the ’90s by Carol Stone and Woody Woodland, and held twice each year (April and November).
This edition of the multi-venue Festival came a week after Moody’s 76th birthday [and shortly before MT’s 48th — ed.] He was born in Georgia, but raised in New Jersey. He started out with Dizzy Gillespie and earned high praise for his work on saxophone and flute. Eventually Moody performed and recorded as a leader and soloist. But oddly, perhaps his best known work is as a vocalist.
In the early 50s, Eddie Jefferson wrote and recorded lyrics to match a jazz solo Moody recorded while improvising on the popular tune, “I’m in the Mood for Love.” Jefferson titled the song, “Moody’s Mood for Love,” and it clicked with listeners. Moody worked it into his appearances, often “singing” the lyrics himself. His unique vocal style endeared him to audiences and to the public.
I knew Moody generally by his recordings, and particularly by his recent CD saluting Sinatra. Personally, I was in my first year of learning to play sax and I knew seeing him play live would be educational. Couple that opportunity with a chance to chat and I’d have myself a Master Class.
But Moody was booked to play the Ballroom in the Grand Hotel and I would be at Carney’s in the Other Room. Fortunately, the sound check schedules were kinder. I’d be free during Moody’s sound check. So, at the appropriate time, my wife QT and I made our way to the Grand Hotel.
We quietly slipped into the rear entrance to the Ballroom. And there he was. James Moody at center stage. We listened as he played a few solos and traded bars with Rowan and Maynard Ferguson’s own Denis DiBlasio (years earlier I followed DiBlasio in a now defunct Riverside, NJ jazz club).
Suddenly, we heard Moody say, “Hold it. Hold it.” He removed his sax.
Over his shoulder, to the band he said, “Gimme a few minutes.” He stepped from the stage to the floor. He walked straight down the center aisle.
He pointed to me, and gestured. He wanted me to meet him in the aisle.
We arrived at the end of the row about the same time.
I smiled. “Mr. Moody,” I said and extended my hand.
He shook my hand. He smiled.
He said, “Hey buddy. You know where the men’s room is?”
My smile became a grin. “I sure do,” I said. “I’ll walk you right to the door.”
I saw him play live and had a chance to chat. I had myself a Master Class.
Moody found the men’s room and I was flushed with pride.