The Black Soul of Calcutta (and Mussoorie): Teddy Weatherford and Roy Butler

Think of Calcutta and what springs to mind? Poverty, Mother Teresa, decay, chaos, radical politics, the infamous ‘Black Hole’.

How about the center of hot dance and jazz? 

Between 1934-1945 Calcutta was the scene of a torrid jazz and dance culture that was led by a loose fraternity of African American musicians who had left the opportunity for lucrative careers in Chicago and New York to work and, in some cases, settle in the exotic ‘Orient’.  

They moved between Calcutta and Bombay but also worked the popular hill stations where the Indian and European elites escaped the summer heat as well as in smaller provincial cities like Lucknow.  From time to time they led orchestras in Colombo, Shanghai and even Indonesia (Surabaya), playing at luxury hotels and clubs, all the while living a ‘millionaire’s life’ as one of them gleefully wrote home in the late 1930s.

When they first landed in India, in the early 1930s, these musicians were members of larger European or American travelling jazz bands. But for a combination of reasons (money to be made, respect from local audiences, lifestyle, artistic freedom) several ‘jumped ship’ to set up their own orchestras. The chance to be the ‘leader’ rather than a member or even prominent soloist of a band that headlined at the Taj Mahal Hotel in Bombay, the Grand Hotel in Calcutta or the Trocadero Club in Mussoorie was too much to pass by.

The local audience was diverse: bored colonials who longed to ‘participate’ in the latest cultural developments of Europe and America; Anglo-Indian and Goan musicians of mixed blood who saw black jazz as inspirational and liberating, a way to renegotiate their marginalised position in a highly racist hierarchical society and; American GIs who flooded into India during the Second World War and who wanted a ‘slice’ of home on the weekends.

By the mid-40s when the war was well and truly ‘hot’ and bombing attacks came closer to Calcutta, the African American jazz brotherhood slowly faded away. What had seemed cutting edge ten years earlier now seemed out dated. New styles of jazz were available through radio and film. But the Goan and Anglo-Indians had been good students and were now leading a ‘cabaret’ jazz movement in Bombay that was to create a new ‘hybrid’ form of jazz-like music for Indian films.

Several of the musicians returned to the US and lived out their years giving the odd interview about their time in India.  Others stayed on and died in India.

Tonight the Washerman’s Dog is very excited to present the story of two of the most prominent of these American jazz musicians who for a short time made India one of the world’s ‘hot jazz’ havens.

Teddy Weatherford, according to some authorities, was the ‘greatest jazz pianist no ever heard of!’ He learned the ‘ivories’ in New Orleans but then moved to Chicago in the 1920s where he played with Louis Armstrong in the Tate Vendome Orchestra. His piano playing style was highly influential and indeed, one of the absolute giants of the instrument, the great Earl Hines, paid tribute to Weatherford as one of his key influences.  In 1926 he left American shores, first to Europe (Sweden and Paris) and then Asia. He played in various orchestras across these continents but found his ‘home’ in India where he stayed until his death (from cholera) in 1944.

Bradley Shope, an academic at the A&M University in Texas, is a leading authority on this subject, and I quote from one of his articles:  

“Weatherford, often hired Goan and Anglo-Indian musicians to perform beginning in 1941 and was keen on hiring female crooners, while holding on to his stable of African American musicians such as Roy Butler, Creighton Thompson, Crickett Smith, Rudy Jackson as well as Cuban Luis Pedroso.  His interest in creating a mixed-race performance group was both aesthetic and personal, as he married an Anglo-Indian woman, Lorna Shortland, who sang vocals in his bands.”

Roy Butler, like Teddy Weatherford, was a highly accomplished jazz musician in the US. Born in Indiana but musically active as a sax player in New York, Butler played with several important early jazz bands, such as Sammy Stewart and the trumpeter, Jimmy Wade. His most important connection was with the pianist/band leader Herb Flemming who toured across Europe, South America and Asia with his jazz bands.  

It was as a member of this band that Butler landed in Calcutta for a six-month run at the Grand Hotel in 1933.  When Flemming pulled up stumps for Shanghai in mid-1934, Butler chose to stay on and formed his own band and took up a gig at the elite Trocadero Club in Mussoorie, one of the most popular hill stations in north India. For the next ten years, Butler led and played in various bands (Trocadero Rhytym Aces, Deep South Boys, Crickett Smith’s  Symphonians) and in the early 1940’s a jazz band made up entirely of Indian musicians, (Roy Baker’s Indian Orchestra).

To quote Shope once again: 

‘Mussoorie, as a resort city, is an interesting locale to scrutinize to glimpse one facet of the flowering of jazz performances in India because it boasted a mixture of British, European, even a few American citizens, and wealthy Indian princes and their families, who were cosmopolitan enough to enjoy the summer series of live-band entertainment.’

Both Weatherford and Butler and other jazz artists recorded in India during this period and I post for your aural ecstasy this collection tonight. Also included in the download is a wonderful article on these artists and their influence on contemporary Indian music by the aforementioned Professor Bradley Shope.

I end this post with a personal confession: I went to school in Mussoorie and I had no idea that our lonely hill station had once been such a prominent venue of cutting edge American jazz.  Alas, I never heard of the Trocadero Club so if any reader has any leads on how I can track down more info on this I’d be very grateful.

The entire topic of Jazz in India is an endlessly fascinating one and one to which the Washerman’s Dog will return again.  But I would refer all who are interested to another brotherly blog TajmahalFoxtrot, by the amazing journalist and jazz aficiando, Naresh Fernandes, which is chocker block full of amazing photos, information and articles on India and Jazz. 

            Track Listing:

01 Soho Blues [Lequime's Grand Hotel Orchestra]

02 The House Where the Shutters Are Green  [Lequime's Grand Hotel Orchestra]

03 Taj Mahal [Crickett Smith and His Symphonians]

04 The Last Time I Saw Paris [Teddy Weatherford]

05 Blues in the Night [Teddy Weatherford]

 06 Basin Street Blues [Teddy Weatherford]

07 Memphis Blues [Teddy Weatherford]

08 St Louis Blues [Teddy Weatherford]

09 One Dozen Roses [All Star Swing Band]

10 Jealous [All Star Swing Band]

11 My Gal Sal [Reuben Solomon and His Jive Boys]

12 The Last Call For Love [Reuben Solomon and His Jive Boys]

13 The Lady Who Didn't Believe in Love [Teddy Weatherford and His Band]

14 So Long, Sara Jane [The Hutson Sisters]

15 Don't Be a Talkie [Frank J Orford]

16 Ice Cold Katie [Teddy Weatherford and His Band]

Listen here.

Like Father Like Son: Ustad Bade Ghulam Ali Khan and Ustad Munawwar Ali Khan (Fresh Links)

Ustad Bade Ghulam Ali Khan and Ustad Munawwar Ali Khan

Ustad Bade Ghulam Ali Khan, the inspiration and namesake of Ghulam Ali, like many of India’s great vocalists (Ustad Amir Khan, springs quickly to mind) began life as a sarangiya (sarangi player). The sarangi was born in the mehfils of the courtesans (tawaif) in 19^th century Hindustan. Late Mughal Delhi and the glorious regional centers of Lucknow, Rampur and Banaras were the historical milieu that gave rise to the singing, dancing and cultured courtesan, so often depicted in Indian films like Umrao Jaan and Pakeezah. And the sarangi came into its own.

By the early 20^th century the entire world of music making had changed in India.  Cultured patrons such as princes and large zamindars (landowners) were few and far between. The artistic center of gravity had moved from the countryside to the mushrooming colonial cities of Calcutta and Bombay. New audiences demanded new types of music and new modes of delivering them. And what had once been a well accepted stable social system of hereditary musical khandans (families) organised into close-knit groups who perfected and fiercely protected the ilm (knowledge) of their particular gharana (lit. of the home; style, school, family) was turned rather quickly into something a bit less secure.

Part of the change was a major social reconfiguration of instruments and performers.  Sarangiyas have always been absolutely critical to the success of a north Indian vocal performance, but in an accompanying role.  Now that the courtesan culture had been swept away and replaced by a publicly chaste Victorian ideal sarangi players were looked down upon.  While singers and other instrumentalists, including tabla players were eventually able to recreate themselves as respected ‘high art’ performers, sarangiyas remained tainted with the brush of ‘the house of ill repute’.

Obviously, Bade Ghulam Ali Khan and others who aspired to greatness realised their first and perhaps ‘natural’ instrument was not the vehicle to get them to where they wanted to be. In his early years (he was born in that great Punjabi musical markaz of Kasur) he found himself actually accompanying a tawaif on the sarangi in Banaras. But he soon began singing in public and after some time turned his attention to vocalising. It was probably with great relief that he said farewell to the sarangi.

In his lifetime Bade Ghulam Ali became one of the absolute icons of Indian music.  His performance at the ‘durbar’ (court) of the Prince of Wales in the early 1920s marked his rise to fame. In subsequent years he travelled all across India and into Afghanistan and to the deep south where, unusually, he was appreciated by the upholders of the Carnatic vocal tradition.

A friendly, happy looking man of huge stature he was not only a great performer but a composer of many cheeza (songs) under the name of Sab Rang.  After Partition he was one of the few musicians who though from what had been declared Pakistan remained in India where he died in 1968.

He left behind two sons, Karamat Ali Khan and Munawar Ali Khan, both of whom remained in Pakistan. Munawar Ali Khan, though he accompanied his father wherever he went, was not encouraged by the old man to become a solo performer. Was he jealous of his fame and cautious that his young heir could eclipse him in his dotage? Who knows but after the death of his father Munawar Ali Khan made some recordings which I post tonight with those of his great giant of a father. The singing is absolutely spectacular in both cases and I would hazard the view that  Munawar’s pieces, are strong in their own right.  He does not need to hide in the shadow of Bade Khan sahib.  And listen to that the poorly regarded sarangiya clinging to Munawarji’s voice like white to rice.

So a jugalbandi post facto. Father and son. Patiala gharana at its most supreme.

            Track Listing: (Ustad Bade Ghulam Ali Khan)

            01 Raga Shudha Sarang

     02 Raga Megh Malhar

     03 Pahadi

Listen here.

            Track Listing: (Ustad Munawar Ali Khan)

01 Aalay Nabi Aulad-e-Ali

02 Data Gharib Nawaz

03 Aaj Rang Lagaya

Listen here.

Dissolute Heart: Ghulam Ali

Ghulam Ali is one of the best loved singers in South Asia. His ghazals are stupendously popular across both Pakistan and India and indeed, it is said, ‘you’ve not heard music until you hear Ghulam Ali sing a ghazal.’  Although his ghazals have sold multiple millions and his style and lyrics are accessible to the casual listener, his musical pedigree is rooted in the Hindustani classical tradition.  Named after one of India’s greatest classical vocalists Ustad Bade Ghulam Ali Khan with whom he studied as a lad, Ghulam Ali, takes the musicality and lyricism of his music very seriously. He is one of those artists who is both immensely popular and critically adored.

Here is a snippet from a radio interview in which he opens up about his childhood and approach to singing.

Ghulam Ali

I was born in 1941 in Pakistan's Sialkot district. I was six at the time of the Partition. I have foggy memories of people crossing the border. Once, when I was six or seven years old, I was humming a song in the class and my master Ebrahim noticed and called me. I was terrified and afraid he would punish me. But he just asked whether I was Daulatbhai's son. My father was also a musician.

Then he asked me to sing the song I was humming. I sang the song and my master, also a singer, was very impressed by me. At the age of eight, my father gave me a raaga and asked me to rehearse it on the harmonium. I worked on it for a month and learnt it. My grandmother was very angry with my father because she felt that he was overstretching a small child like me, but my father explained that my age was the right time to build the base in music. 


My name 'Ghulam' was given by my father, a great fan of Bade Ghulam Ali Khansaab. He used to live in Lahore. I had always been listening to Khansaab, since childhood. My father used to take me to Lahore, 100 km away from our village. We used to travel first in a tonga, and then take a bus to Lahore.

Bade Ghulam Ali Khansaab used to sit near Lahore Shahi Masjid on a charpoy surrounded by people. He used to talk about music and his singing used to give me goose bumps. After the Partition, Khansaab came to India. He used to come to Pakistan once a year to meet his younger brothers. Once, he had gone to Kabul for some music function, and my father also attended. He requested Khansaab to take me as a student. He in turn asked me to sing and I was terrified. I recalled a little of what I had heard of Khansaab's own thumri and sang it.

He was pleased seeing my dedication to music. He told my father he would baptise me as a student. He was based in India and said I would learn under the guidance of his brothers, who were based in Lahore. I stayed in their house. There were other students and we had to do household chores like filling water, washing vessels etc. We never had any specific time for learning. We were taught in between the work.

I was a good student. Whatever they used to teach, I would retain it. Once I was rehearsing on the terrace, and a person from Radio Pakistan had come to meet them. He heard me and was very impressed. I was called down and he asked me whether I wanted to sing on the radio. In those days singing on the radio was very prestigious.

I replied that if my teachers permitted it, I would come. When I was called to the radio station and they started my audition, they stopped me mid-way. I thought they had rejected me, but the station director and deputy wrote 'Excellent' as their remark. I was only 14 years old when I started singing for a children's programme for Pakistani radio. In six months, I progressed to the topmost level.

Mohammad Rafi: The entire world listens to me. But I listen to Ghulam Ali

Everyone has their favorite Ghulam Ali ghazal. Mine is the title track of tonight’s post, Yeh dil yeh pagal dil mera (This heart, this mad heart of mine) also known as Awaargi. It is an absolute masterpiece of forlorn and mad love and the devastation that accompanies that state of heart. But equally high on my list is the second track Jin ke honton pe haseen on which he is accompanied by one of the most masterful tabla performances ever put to tape. Unfortunately, it  is cut short as this selection is from a home-recorded mehfil in Rawalpindi, and thus the audio quality is pretty basic.

It is still highly highly highly enjoyable and if you are a fan this will be a selection you’ll return to again and again. If you are new to Ghulam Ali this set is less accessible than some of his more popular recordings but still worth the time.

So until next time…ladies, gentlemen, khawateen aur hazraat: Ustad Ghulam Ali.

         Track Listing:

01. Yeh Dil Yeh Pagal Dil

02. Jin ke Hoton Pe

03. Qurbaton mein bhi judai

04. Wo ek khwab mein taskeen

Listen here.