By David Todoran (8/19/99)
In the amber light of The Lounge at Bill's Bistro, guitarist Cliff Webb launches into a solo. Webb's fingers skip and stutter in a staccato attack on the fretboard of his latest acquisition, a 1979 Gibson ES 355. Then in one swift motion, he plucks the ever-present Viceroy cigarette from his mouth and lets go with a rapid succession of notes sung in unison with those from his guitar. A few bars of quotes from Woody Woodpecker and Alfie follow before the Viceroy is between his lips again and his hands have settled back into comping the changes.
On this night, Webb is backing up singer Lynn Lawson, but whether working with a singer, or fronting his own trio, the 47-year-old Webb has earned a reputation as a first-rate soloist, and a first-call sideman.
Sporting his trademark rose-lensed Raybans and a well-oiled pompadour, Webb cuts a distinctive profile. There is a certain playful, of- kilter sense of humor and a particular madness in his playing that belies the often somber approach and persona affected by many such serious and accomplished jazz musicians. Blue Moon Boys guitarist Kenny Taylor recalls sneaking into Mother's (now Columbia Street) as a teenager to catch Webb in action. He compares Webb to other "whacked out stylists" like Gatemouth Brown and Jimi Hendrix, and calls him "our resident hometown genius." Still, despite the fact that his playing has influenced a couple of generations of local guitarists, Webb remains a somewhat enigmatic figure and one of many unsung heroes in a relatively low profile local jazz scene.
Like many musicians of his generation, Webb first picked up the guitar to play along with the Lennon/McCartney and Motown hits of the early 60s. It wasn't long, however, before his love for the guitar led him to the serious study of the instrument's intricacies and possibilities.
"My dad would listen to me strumming along with these records and say åClifford, you gotta learn some runs.'" And learn he did. Webb runs down a litany of jazz guitar soloists who were early influences, including Pass, Django and especially Wes Montgomery.
Webb soon turned his love for playing into a living. His professional career began in the early 70s with a two-year stint as a sideman for Ronnie Speakes at the now defunct Sands Lounge, once located on Coliseum Boulevard. Webb then kicked around Southern California for a few years before settling back in Fort Wayne. He was the driving force behind a string of late-70s and early-80s jazz and R&B bands, including Red Ball Jets (no connection to the local rockabilly band currently under that name) and Dr. Bob. More recently, he can be seen leading a trio with Jerry Sparkman and Jamie Simon on bass and drums, or throwing down some blues in Felonious Monkey, with Brad Kuhns and Kent Klee on bass and drums and yours truly on harp.
Webb credits those early Beatle records, along with singers like Sinatra and Bobby Darin, with his having developed a sense of melody. That sense, he says, was a crucial foundation for the explorations into the more progressive elements of jazz harmony and soloing.
"It all begins with the melody," he says. "I listen to how a singer phrases the words and melody, even their tone. And no matter what I'm playing, I'll play differently and even better if I know the lyrics." Webb is also mindful of the mood set by a legendary singer's persona ã the underlying violence in Sinatra's smooth croon, for example, or the cheesy lounge image of Darin or Damone.
Certain movie themes or scenes also help him set the feel, or tempo of a particular piece. I know from working as a singer with Cliff that it's not uncommon for him to suggest something like "let's do this like a scene from Cat On A Hot Tin Roof" when setting up the sweaty tavern crawl of "Stormy Weather." Or, while vamping the intro to Jobim's "Corcovado," he might look up and announce, "Think of Richard Burton in Night of the Iguana." Webb seems to instinctively know how these nuances affect a player's approach to a tune.
Shelly Sanders is one of the many vocalists who have grown to appreciate Webb's talents. "He is such a competent musician. I can put anything in front of him, and I don't have to worry about feeling comfortable doing what I do. But he'll also push me a bit towards other styles. His bluesy feel for voicing chords brings out the musician in me."
Bassist Brad Kuhns echoes Sander's observation. "Cliff has the presence of mind to lay back and play tastefully when playing behind someone, but once he has the lead, he likes to stretch the boundaries. Very few players would take the guitar riff from åSecret Agent Man' and insert it into a Latin/blues like åChitlins Con Carne.'"
It's that sense of recklessness that sometimes sends him skidding and fishtailing off-road and into the mud, only to find his way back between the lines again. "Even if I'm playing way out there or fast, I'm trying to make the beautiful statement. But with guitar it's too easy to fall into patterns. I look at scales as a bunch of choices of were I can go or get to, not what I have to play."
Guitarist Taylor shares Webb's philosophy. "Cliff's ability to rise out of clichÈ is extraordinary. In a world full of guys playing math, some folks should put down the calculator (and watch Webb) whip up some spiritual art with a large side order of pain."
Artistry, empathy and anarchy. Those are the three key elements in a distinctive approach appreciated by listeners and fellow players alike. When the swing boom brought a stream of touring orchestras through town, it wasn't long before late-night jam sessions resulted in offers to hit the road. "I've done that you know, it's a lot of the same old thing. I'd have to give up my students, and besides, I'd miss my dog," says Webb.
Clearly, Webb is a fixture on the Fort Wayne jazz scene. Like many local jazz musicians, Webb seems to thrive on playing his part in the loose-knit contingent of the city's top players who effortlessly rotate among combos featuring various combinations of instrumentation and personnel. While performing is Webb's primary source of income, he is also an enthusiastic teacher of jazz guitar and theory. Even a late-night conversation over a cocktail might run the gamut of musical topics, from Stevie Ray Vaughan's sweet tone to the ins and outs of playing over a Dminor seventh flat five chord. For Webb, being a jazz guitarist is more than a playing style, it is a lifestyle-a lifestyle devoted to, and dependent on, a local taste for jazz.
Still he laments a local scene that he sees stagnating due to a lack of jazz venues and increased competition for the "casuals" or background music gigs.
He remains hopeful, however, that the fallout from the recent popularity of swing will eventually bring a wave of interest in cabaret and retro-lounge/jazz, resulting in listening rooms where the soloist or vocalist can be heard above the banter.
Until then, Webb, like other Fort Wayne jazz musicians, will content himself with playing the usual dinner clubs, cocktail lounges and occasional feature performances. So, whether it's straight up jazz at an upscale lounge or down and dirty blues at the Hot Spot, there can be no doubt that when he gets the call, Webb will come out smokin'ã a Viceroy, and the tune.
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