Spin And Groove

Some records arrive at you sideways. I wasn’t hunting for this one specifically — I found it in a stack of jazz compilations at a record fair, the sleeve worn at the corners but the vinyl inside clean and quiet. Stan Getz in Scandinavia, 1958 and 1959, recorded live across Denmark and Sweden with a rotating cast of European and American musicians. I put it on expecting background listening. Instead I sat down and stayed put for the entire side.

Getz in Europe — and Why It Mattered

By 1958, Stan Getz had already established himself as one of the defining voices in American jazz. The cool West Coast sound of the early 50s, the “Four Brothers” recordings with Woody Herman, the quietly ferocious ballad playing that made critics reach for words like “lyrical” — all of that was already behind him. What wasn’t settled was his personal life. Drug problems, legal trouble, a period of real instability that led him to relocate to Copenhagen in 1958, staying for several years.

It turned out to be one of the most productive relocations in jazz history. Scandinavia in the late 50s had an extraordinarily vibrant jazz scene — small clubs, attentive audiences, excellent local musicians who had absorbed American bebop and were doing interesting things with it. Getz found collaborators who could keep up with him, and the informality of the setting — live recordings, often at small venues — gave the music a spontaneity that his studio work sometimes lacked.

This record, released on the Rarities label as a compilation of those sessions, draws from two distinct recording periods. The 1958 sessions feature Getz with Danish pianist Bent Axen, bassist Gunnar Johnson, and drummer William Schiøffe. The 1959 session brings in a different and remarkable rhythm section: Swedish pianist Jan Johansson and the legendary Oscar Pettiford on bass.

Oscar Pettiford — a Word

Pettiford deserves a moment here. He was one of the most important bassists in jazz history — a pioneer of the bebop bass, a composer of real substance, someone who Charles Mingus explicitly acknowledged as an influence. He’d been a key figure in New York jazz through the 40s and 50s, working with Dizzy Gillespie, Duke Ellington, Thelonious Monk. Like Getz, he relocated to Europe in the late 50s, settling in Copenhagen. He died there on September 8, 1960 — less than a year after these recordings were made — from a viral paralysis that affected his nervous system. He was 37.

These sessions are among his last documented recordings. That alone makes the record worth having.

The Tracks

Seven tracks across two sides, pulling from three different sessions:

What to Listen For

Side 1 is the quieter, more introspective half. “Yesterdays” — the Jerome Kern standard — is one of the most played ballads in jazz, but Getz does something with the tempo here that makes it feel unhurried without dragging. Bent Axen’s piano is thoughtful and spare, leaving space for Getz to breathe. “Fireplace Blues” is a Getz original that sounds exactly like its title — warm, a little melancholy, the kind of tune that fits a specific mood perfectly.

“My Funny Valentine” with the Ib Glindmann Big Band is an outlier in both setting and texture — larger orchestra, more arranged — but Getz sounds comfortable, playing the melody with real tenderness before opening up in the middle section.

Side 2 is where Pettiford comes in, and the whole character of the record shifts. “I Remember Clifford” — Benny Golson’s elegy for Clifford Brown — takes on extra weight when you know that Pettiford himself would be gone within a year. The bass playing is exceptional. Pettiford and Getz listen to each other in a way that two musicians can only do when both are fully present. “Stuffy” closes things out with more swing and momentum, Pettiford’s bass driving it forward with authority.

This is a record where the personnel listing in the sleeve notes actually matters. Read it before you put it on.

Sound and Pressing

Being a Rarities label compilation, this isn’t a pristine studio recording — it’s a compilation of live and broadcast material from the late 50s. The sound is mono, the recording quality varies slightly between sessions, and there’s some ambient noise. None of that bothers me. The performances are what count, and they come through clearly enough to hear everything that matters.

The Stan Getz discography on Jazz Disco is a useful reference if you want to trace which labels released these Scandinavian sessions and in what combinations — there were several compilations drawn from the same pool of recordings.

How I Recorded the Playback

My setup for this recording: Technics SL-1200 MK3D turntable, Ortofon DJ Mk1 with Arkiv stylus. I’ve used the Arkiv on mono recordings before and it handles them well — the elliptical tip is more forgiving on older pressings than a more aggressive nude stylus would be, and for mono material you don’t need the channel separation that a fancier cartridge provides anyway.

Phono stage is the Yamaha HA-5, then into the Roland GO:MIXER PRO-X for USB digital output. Video captured on iPad Pro 2020. Same chain I use for most of my recordings — consistent, simple, gets out of the way of the music.

Closing Thought

I keep coming back to Side 2 of this record. The Pettiford sessions have a specific gravity to them — not heavy, exactly, but weighted. Like something was being caught on tape that everyone in the room knew was passing. Getz was finding his feet in a new country. Pettiford had little more than a year left.

The music doesn’t know any of that, of course. It just plays. But knowing it makes you listen differently.

That’s what the best jazz records do — they give you something new each time you come back to them, as you bring more of yourself and more knowledge to the listening. This one rewards that kind of attention.