The George Shearing Quintet “The Shearing Spell”

The stylized illustration on the cover—matchbook size silhouette of the quintet, casting effervescence on a barely formed woman in the aether—reminds me of the illustrations in my parents’ restaurant guidebooks that captured my imagination—so I must have connected those two magical artistic realms, during childhood. This was one of the records in my parents’ collection—and one they played all the time! (I recently found this copy for $1!)  The black and white charcoal drawing on back is even better—an elegant woman in a NYC cocktail lounge and—almost invisible in the grey gloom, foreground left—in first-person profile (representing you)—is her date, with a cigarette. Uncredited liner notes by some frustrated novelist—very good, especially considering there was no Wikipedia and so forth—a lot of information, there, and some opinions! A great band, including Johnny Rae, Armando Peraza, Al McKibbon, Bill Clark, Willie Bobo, and “Toots” Thielemans. It’s relatively early in the well over half century long Shearing discography—from 1955.

There’s a lot going on here—essences of jazz, Latin, pop, show standards, blues, classical, exotica, lounge, easy listening. Depending on the listener—where you’re dropping in, what you’re drinking, where you’re coming from, what you know. For me, this is, more than any other record, the sound of my childhood. I don’t know who brought the Shearing records to the marriage—probably my dad—he said he saw Shearing live in a club in Denver when he was in the Army. But it was my mom, home with the kids, who must have played this endlessly. I can hear it along with the vacuum cleaner, TV, kitchen sounds, kids making a ruckus. At first, I had no thoughts about it, that I can remember—though, no doubt, unformed feeling. But as time went on, I think I felt like it was kind of square—too mellow, too subtle for me, too much about being a kid at home. Now it sounds like the genius record of all time—there’s nothing I can manage to be less objective about—I’d love to listen along with a first timer to the album—preferably with an open mind. It’s no doubt why “Autumn in New York” is one of my favorites, all-time. I can even tolerate the weird, over-the-top harmonica (Toots) on “The Man I Love,” which I’ve spent my whole life (until I finally read these liner notes) wondering what the hell it was.

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