Unsung: Django Reinhardt

I first heard Django Reinhardt’s music after having heard him called the greatest jazz… I first heard Django Reinhardt’s music after having heard him called the greatest jazz guitarist ever, and after listening, I was inclined to agree.

But Miles Davis, who, at times, openly aimed to capture a guitar sound with his trumpet, did not once, that I noticed, so much as mention Reinhardt’s name in his autobiography, which was largely a compendium of jazz history after World War II.

And Rolling Stone decided that Jimi Hendrix and 99 people were better guitarists than was Reinhardt.

I gradually came to realize that Django Reinhardt was — there’s no other way to put it — unsung.

Well, now I’m freakin’ singing.

The album I’d suggest to anyone getting started would be Djangology, although you’d do well with any album featuring Stephane Grappelli — himself among the finest jazz violinists ever.

Grappelli is even more unsung. So much so, indeed, that his name is misspelled on the album cover, with a “y” instead of the “i.”

Together, they create some of the finest of what, today, can only be called old-people music. Many of the songs are jazz standards, including top-notch arrangements of “Beyond the Sea,” “Paper Moon,” and — there had to be at least one Gershwin song — “I Got Rhythm.”

One of the highlights is song nine, the maudlin and romantic “All the Things You Are,” which is ideal if you are trying to woo that special someone, but may convince him or her that you are actually a very young-looking 73-year-old. Another standout is “Honeysuckle Rose,” the most eclectic and experimental song, in terms of Reinhardt’s guitar work, on the album.

It’s not the best setup for a jazz group featuring string instruments, particularly because the violin is not very good in accompaniment to leads by other instrument.

With drums, bass, piano, Grappelli’s violin and Reinhardt’s guitar, one finds that Grappelli’s violin solos are well-framed, benefitting from the stellar rhythm work of Reinhardt. Ironically, it is during Grappelli’s solos — not his own leads — that Reinhardt truly shines; he had only two working fingers on his fretting hand, making his rhythm work the most distinctive of … well, all guitar. Ever.

While the band is a marvelous complement to Grappelli’s playing, the backing hinges on Reinhardt’s rhythm. Because of the setup of the band, when Reinhardt plays lead, the rhythm sounds weak. Though his two-fingered solos would be impressive even if done by someone with six fingers, they would not suffer much if played in front of a metronome instead of a band. Perhaps that’s a testament to his incredible melodic sense. He plays in a manner such that single notes combine to suggest chord progressions, much like Leo Kottke or Jerry Garcia.

His status as a guitar hero did not transfer to the United States when he toured here in 1946, rubbing shoulders with American legends Duke Ellington and Les Paul, among others. In Europe, however, he became something of a legend. He lost the use of two of his fingers in a fire in 1928, shortly after his first recording sessions. One story has him falling asleep in bed with a lit cigarette; the other, perhaps influenced by his fame, asserts that he was burned while rescuing his mother and siblings from a fire in their caravan.