Here is the song (Sarah Vaughn – Spotify link, sorry).

Here is the song (Joe Williams).

I discovered the Jazz Standard Gravy Waltz late last year and I was thoroughly charmed by the playfulness and affable imagery within the lyrics. There’s something ‘humpty-dumpty’ about the song’s progression as it wins your affection. Like all standards, Gravy Waltz has been interpreted by different musicians across the ages. There are two versions of this song that I love because they make me reflect on how truly amazing the gift of interpretation is.

I initially heard Sarah Vaughn’s version. Its Sarah Vaughn. Her voice is always going to be centre stage. Her voice is the fireplace at the centre of the home keeping us warm. All the instruments are drawing us closer to the fire, to feel that warmth, and to get a whiff of the gravy. The architecture of the song reinforces the main theme – The simplistic spirituality of domestic bliss. And this domicile is spacious, at ease with itself, is comfortable with silences and knows what’s important. All the materials are there – light touch organ, agreeable guitar, ‘lazy sunday’ percussion. Sarah is singing about ‘mama in the kitchen’ – an image indelibly etched into most of our archetypal brain along with all the reassurance that it brings.

Joe Williams ain’t singing about his mama, no sir! We can sense a different affection by his tone and his stresses alone – now that’s a singer. We can hear him smiling. And every instrument is a bright shining thing, expressive, full of life, dancing even. Whereas Vaughn’s voice was gesturing us to come closer towards the fireplace, Williams’ voice is gesturing outwards, towards the band and their fireworks. And Clark Terry, Colman Hawkins & co sure don’t disappoint. We may lose the subtlety and understatement of Vaughn’s house, but we gain the genuine joy in William’s anticipation prior to tasting the gravy. Listen at 1:22 as Williams says ‘Well she really ran to get her frying pan…’ it is as if he is telling us a story and that pause right after these words is for us – the listeners – to insert ourselves in the story, brilliant storytelling! And then we get to the moment of truth

‘Mmmmmmn, nice gravy dear’

That genius throwaway line should be on a t-shirt!

On second thoughts, maybe it shouldn’t…

Here is the song

Some people wear power on their sleeve, which is to say they make an ostentatious display of it. It relies on others to see it and give it credence. Others inhabit their power from their gut, it needs no explanation. It only needs one to sense its Ki, as if it were an episode of Dragonball Z. If you ever wanted to understand the meaning of the word Verve, Christian Scott has offered us a musical definition in Ruler Rebel.

I can go further, this song contemplates the consciousness of power, a power aware of its surroundings and its ability to create and destroy. It is like a black hole, who can discern its heart? Malevolence is swirling around the hi-hat. Yet so is responsibility in the questioning flute. Yet so is conceit in the bass. And what of the sagacity in the trumpet?

Further still? Well only because Scott goes further in the outro. Scott doesn’t bring the song to a conclusion, he simply heightens the tension in a creative outburst. The ultimate question at the end of the song is How will we handle the power that has been given to us? Every individual, every social group, every nation and every empire has continually faced this question. Will we exercise our power to bring greater order to the world, or will we rebel and destroy what has been built? Or will we end up doing both these things at the same time. Maybe we need all three flutes playing at the same time.