Jay Leonhart
Jay Leonhart (born December 6, 1940, Baltimore, Maryland) is a bassist, songwriter working and singer in jazz and popular music. He has performed with diverse artists including Judy Garland, Carly Simon, Bucky Pizzarelli, Sting, and Frank Sinatra. Leonhart is noted for his clever songwriting often laced with dry humor, and his compositions have been recorded by such notable artists as Blossom Dearie, Lee Konitz and Gary Burton. Leonhart's poetry is published both in, and outside of, the venue of song.
Biography
Jay Leonhart grew up in a musical family. His parents and six siblings were all musically inclined. Everyone played the piano. By the age of seven, Jay and his older brother Bil were playing banjos and guitars and mandolins and basses. They played country music, jazz—anything with a beat. In their early teens, Jay and Bil were television stars in Baltimore and were touring the country performing on their banjos.
When Jay was fourteen he started playing the bass in The Pier Five Dixieland Jazz Band in Baltimore. After studying at The Peabody Institute (1946–1950), Jay attended The Berklee College of Music (1959–1961) and The Advanced School of Contemporary Music in Toronto, before leaving school to start touring with the traveling big bands of the late 1950s and early 1960s.
Podcasts:
Jay Leonhart
ALBUMS
- This Rhythm on My Mind released: 2006
- Galaxies and Planets released: 2001
- New York Swing: Cole Porter Collective released: 1992
- NY Swing released: 1992
- Salamander Pie released: 1983
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by Jay Leonhart
Chantecler
by: Jay LeonhartLet me tell you 'bout the girl,
That I met in the chantecler,
Back when I was sixteen.
She was beautiful,
She danced for the people in a way,
That I had never seen.
Lord, she was a beauty,
Dancing was her duty,
To the music of the band.
Folks come in the chantecler,
She would dance and they would stare,
I was lost in wonderland.
I would go there sunday nights
To play some music, drink some whiskey,
Watch her dance and greet the sun.
I would go there sunday nights
To play some music, drink some whiskey,
Drive her home when she was done.
Seems I spend a lot of sunday nights that way,
Drinking whiskey, living in a trance.
Hanging round the chantecler, doing my best not to stare
And watching that girl dance.
This was Baltimore, back in the 50s,
A lovely place to be.
The worries of the world did not exist then,
At least looking back it seems that way to me.
I had never seen a live girl dancing with no clothes on,
Gracious, what charisma she possessed.
I would go downstairs and talk to her through the front door
Of a dressing room, while she got dressed.
Every sunday night I could not wait to see her,
Every sunday night it was the same.
Every ounce of my existence threatened to break out
Into total unabashed burning flame.
I know you never rest,
But no we never made love,
That could not be at the time,
But you filled my live with deep infatuation
And semi-drunken sunday night sublime.
Yes, you filled my live with deep infatuation
And semi-drunken sunday night sublime.