Ozzie Cadena - R.I.P.

[Lois Gilbert]

Los Angeles' Jazz Community Mourns Ozzie Cadena
Oscar "Ozzie" Cadena (September 26, 1924 - April 9, 2008)

Early yesterday morning, Oscar "Ozzie" Cadena passed away peacefully at Little Company of Mary Hospital in Torrance with his family at his side.

Music producer, promoter, A&R man and jazz enthusiast, over the years Ozzie Cadena collaborated with some of the best in the business.

A longtime jazz lover, Cadena worked at Savoy Records in Newark, New Jersey during the 1950s as a producer and A&R man. He later produced records at Blue Note and Prestige.

Over the course of his career, Ozzie Cadena worked with greats like Cannonball Adderley, Dexter Gordon, John Coltrane, Donald Byrd, Ornette Coleman, and Milt Jackson.

His musical interests were not strictly limited to jazz. He also made contributions to gospel music, the blues, and R&B. "Gospel scholar Anthony Heilbut cites Cadena as one of the greatest gospel producers of all time." (Silsby)

Born in Oklahoma City, Cadena served in WWII. He started his family and began his music career in Newark, New Jersey, the city where he was raised. In 1974, the family relocated to the South Bay. In his later years, Ozzie Cadena promoted jazz events throughout the city, but he is particularly known for keeping the jazz scene alive at The Lighthouse. On Thursdays and Sundays, the family still books shows at the landmark Hermosa Beach jazz venue.

Cadena was active with the Hermosa Beach Jazz Alumni and the Pier Plaza Jazz Memorial Committee.

Hermosa Beach's current jazz profile is almost entirely due to Cadena, an East Coaster who always acknowledged what West Coast jazz had to offer....He brought the music back to the Lighthouse Café after it had become a rock venue, first in the early '80s, and more recently since the late '90s. He also books jazz artists into the nearby Sangria restaurant (68 Pier Ave., 310-376-4412), and he spearheaded the movement to set plaques noting the Lighthouse's glorious history into the pavement. (The city has 10 plates it expects to install in November.) - Kirk Silsby, LA City Beat
This loss hits particularly close to home, as Ozzie was father to LAist's own Lori Nyx and local musician Dez Cadena. Ozzie is also survived by wife Gloria, son Pru, and grandchildren Kyle and Bret. Following his wishes, there will not be formal services. A tribute concert will be organized at a future date. The family requests that you honor Ozzie's memory by attending a jazz performance and showing your support for the musicians, to whom he dedicated his life.

[Valerie]

he was a tried and true jazz supporter and a very sweet man. he was part of what now seems like a "lost breed". we will most definitely miss him. i have already contacted his family but again send my sincere condolences to them.

[Chuck Nessa]

Very sorry to hear this.

[Ron Thorne]

Ozzie Cadena's name was (another) one which flew beneath my radar, sadly. What a legacy he leaves behind!

As a result of this thread, I was reminded to order Ken Koenig's Jazz on the West Coast: The Lighthouse DVD.





"The family requests that you honor Ozzie's memory by attending a jazz performance and showing your support for the musicians, to whom he dedicated his life."

I'll be pleased and proud to honor the family's request.

R.I.P., Ozzie Cadena~

[Ron Thorne]

I discovered an article which I felt that other Jazz Corner posters might enjoy.



Jazz's Cut Chemist



Ozzie Cadena's love of experiment has enriched the music in both studios and clubs

By Kirk Silsbee

Jazz has always needed facilitators, people who open the channels between musicians and listeners. They're impresarios, managers, record-label owners, and club proprietors, carrying out the nuts-and-bolts operations that bring the music to the marketplace. One of the most steadfast facilitators in Southern California jazz over the last 30 years has been Ozzie Cadena, who turns 83 next month. As he recuperates from a health crisis in a Torrance hospital, it's worth examining his contribution to the music.

Hermosa Beach's current jazz profile is almost entirely due to Cadena, an East Coaster who always acknowledged what West Coast jazz had to offer. (He also made a key contribution to SoCal punk, being the father of Black Flag's third singer and rhythm guitarist, Dez Cadena.) He brought the music back to the Lighthouse Café (30 Pier Ave., Hermosa Beach, 310-376-9833) after it had become a rock venue, first in the early '80s, and more recently since the late '90s. He also books jazz artists into the nearby Sangria restaurant (68 Pier Ave., 310-376-4412), and he spearheaded the movement to set plaques noting the Lighthouse's glorious history into the pavement. (The city has 10 plates it expects to install in November.)

Music took hold of Cadena at a young age. Growing up in Newark, New Jersey, he shined shoes in the proximity of a street blues singer. Beginning at age 12, he rode the train into Harlem every Saturday night. "I heard all the bands there," he once said, in his clipped Jersey accent, "every one of 'em." Each Saturday at midnight, Cadena - who was known as "Newark" to the regulars - was escorted to the nearby subway station. Did he ever feel a racial draft? "One time, some guy started to give me a bad time about dancin' with a girl," he relates. "And one of the bouncers got between us. They were all ex-pugs who carried billy clubs. 'He said, 'This guy botherin' you, Newark?' I said, 'This stupid bastard don't like the Dodgers.' That was the end of it."

Cadena worked for Newark-based Savoy Records in the '50s, as an A&R man and producer. He recorded swing-era veterans like Coleman ˝64 Hawkins and young players like Milt Jackson, Yusef Lateef, Cannonball and Nat Adderley, Kenny Burrell, Tommy Flanagan, John Coltrane, and Hank Jones. His feel for black roots music served him well. Big Maybelle, Jimmy Scott, and Nappy Brown (on the original "Night Time Is the Right Time") were among his studio charges. He put blues pianist Sammy Price with King Curtis and Mickey Baker to make one of the greatest R&B instrumentals of all time, "Rib Joint."

While Cadena had a gold card at Birdland, he also had entrée to the black churches in New Jersey. His gospel recordings - with Ruth Davis and the Davis Sisters, among others - would make a formidable boxed set. Gospel scholar Anthony Heilbut cites Cadena as one of the greatest gospel producers of all time. He went on to record for Blue Note and Prestige in the '60s.

One evening in '88, Cadena was at the Hyatt Hotel on Sunset Boulevard for the inaugural reception of a short-lived jazz organization. It was the kind of event that attracted everyone in the music who was in town. Donald Byrd made a beeline for Cadena's table. "Ozzie!" he almost shouted. "You makin' any records?" Cadena smiled his lopsided grin and shrugged. "Naw. You know how I make records: I get this guy and that guy, and we go into the studio and roll the tape. They can't use me anymore." It was a lighthearted assessment that hid the lifetime of preparation Cadena brought into a recording studio.

His studio philosophy was simple yet effective: pair up players from different schools and generations to stimulate a chemical reaction that will result in something new from each. For him, recording was not rocket science. He was the first to record Cannonball, in '55, and is characteristically modest about beating the major labels to him. "If five guys tell you somebody can play," he offers, "you record him."

Drummer Kenny Clarke took the Adderleys under his wing, steering them away from New York hustlers and toward Cadena. Clarke had revolutionized jazz drumming by moving the beat to his ride cymbal and accenting with sticks and bass drum "bombs." He worked hand-in-hand with Charlie Parker, Dizzy Gillespie, and Thelonious Monk to redefine jazz in the bebop insurgency of the '40s. Like Milt Jackson, Charles Mingus, Hank Jones, and Tommy Flanagan, Cadena used Clarke at every possible opportunity.

It was a symbiotic relationship. In '93, Cadena articulated it in a very informed way: "He had weaknesses in his playing, like everybody else, but he could give a band a good shim like nobody. Except Ed Blackwell and Billy Higgins, but they came along later. What I liked about Klook [Clarke] was his meter. He was not right on it with a 'tick, tick, tick' which could be too damn monotonous. His beat was like the ocean - sometimes it came in deeper, sometimes shorter. His beat might have varied mathematically a little but his playing just glided. The pulse was always there. When I'd walk into a club where Klook was playin', the band was instantly loose and relaxed. He didn't hit his cymbals as hard as a lot of guys but the sound he got was like a long 'whoosh.' The pulse was where he hit it but the vibrations off the cymbal were constant - like an organ with the key pressed down."

In '82, Cadena began booking jazz into the lounge of the Hyatt on Sunset, resulting in a little golden age for L.A. jazz. He used the occasion to extend his recording modus operandi to the bandstand, brokering first-time meetings between guitarist Tal Farlow and tenor saxophonist Warne Marsh, alto saxophonists Frank and Lanny Morgan, pianist Mal Wadron and Frank Morgan, guitarists John Collins and Tal Farlow, and tenor saxophonists Lockjaw Davis and Joe Farrell.

He also gave bandstand space to promising young players, usually in the company of veterans. Trumpeter Stacy Rowles, saxophonist Rickey Woodard, and bassist Kristin Korb were all championed by Cadena as youngsters. The excitement and expectation that his combinations raised are things he's tried to carry through at the Lighthouse and Sangria.

Of course, not all experiments yield great results. A local soloist, who prefers anonymity, has worked for Cadena a number of times. "I've always liked and respected Ozzie," he stresses. "I think it's great what's he done in Hermosa Beach. But I don't agree with the premise of throwing strangers in together. They do that at those jazz parties. I know the people like it, but I think it's a mishmash. If I can bring my own band, the musicality is always at a much higher level than if I'm playing with someone for the first time."

Still, Cadena knows the value of names on a roster, just as he knows the value of making live music available to the jazz audience. Getting musicians into the studios and people into the clubs is what he's done with his life. It sounds simple, and Cadena probably wouldn't try to convince you otherwise. He'd probably say, "I'm just trying to do something for jazz."

Published: 08/03/2006

[Valerie]

thanks so much for the posts, Ron.