My daughters’ piano teacher, Chris, is a gifted pianist who plays in a band called Louis Louis Louis. They specialise in jazz, swing, big band, boogie-woogie and jump blues, focusing (as their name suggests) on the three great Louis’s: Jordan, Armstrong and Prima. Sadly, the time constraint of the piano lesson window (along with the girls’ mortification at any conversation initiated by me going beyond normal pleasantries) precludes me from proclaiming to Chris: “I love Louis Jordan!”. Yet it’s true: I discovered the marvellous up-tempo jump blues and rich vocal tones of Louis Jordan and his Tympany Five many years ago, specifically from this compilation album here called Out Of Print:

Jordan had started his career in the big-band swing era of the 1930s, being a member of the influential Savoy Ballroom orchestra, led by drummer Chick Webb, in New York’s Harlem district. He specialised in the alto sax, but also played tenor sax, baritone sax, piano and clarinet. He was also a great songwriter, a consummately good singer, and had a wonderfully comic and ebullient personality that soon made him stand out from the crowd. This was the same period that a young Ella Fitzgerald was coming to prominence and she and Jordan often sang duets on stage.

Jordan would soon have his own band, pared down to a sextet, and a residency at the Elks Rendezvous club, down the street from the Savoy on Lenox Avenue. Their style was a dynamic, up-tempo, dance-oriented hybrid of earlier genres which became known as “jump blues” and was an instant hit with the audiences. His band, the Tympany Five, started recording music with Decca records in December 1938, and throughout the 1940s they released dozens of hit songs, including Saturday Night Fish Fry, the comic classic There Ain’t Nobody Here But Us Chickens, and the multi-million seller, Choo Choo Ch’Boogie.

From July 1946 to May 1947, Jordan had five consecutive number 1 songs, and held the top slot for 44 consecutive weeks, an amazing testament to his popularity at the time. It’s true to say that history has given him a raw deal, since his name is not as widely known as it should be, given the above stats (outside sophisticated circles such as our own, of course!).

I’ve selected a song (from many candidates) that is typical of Jordan’s wit and charm: 1953’s A Man’s Best Friend Is A Bed. As well as being a jumping tune, the song extols the comforts of the bed, and on cold mornings like today, who can’t relate to that?

Listen to Louis: 

I want a great big comfortable bed, so I can really spread out, and all that
Take it from me Ed, A man’s best friend is a bed

I want a big fat pillow that’s softer than a billowy cloud, for my head
Take it from me Nat, the best head piece ain’t a hat

Yes, a friend will ditch you, a horse will pitch you
A car will give you lots of grief
A dog will bite you, your wife will fight you
But if you want some genuine relief

Just get a great big comfortable bed, where you can really spread out, and all that
Take it from me Ted, a man’s best friend is a bed

When you’re in trouble, worries double
And everybody’s talking back
Just take your shoes off, you’ll shake the blues off
If you would just let go and hit the sack

In a nice cool comfortable bed where you can really spread out, and all that
Take it from me Ted, a man’s best friend is a bed

Ask any soldier, marine or sailor
Or anyone who’s been without, what do they miss most,
What thought is foremost? No Sir, you’re wrong!

It’s just a great big comfortable bed, where you can really spread out, and all that
Take it from me Ted, a man’s best friend is a bed

Yeah, if you dig me Jack, you’ll hit the sack
This ain’t no junk boy, hit that bunk
Take it from me Ted, a man’s best friend is a bed