May 31, 2011
Businessman's Bounce
Businessman’s Bounce
Some years ago, I had a series of country-club gigs with a pianist, “Bob,” and a guitarist, “Tommy.” I forget who was on bass and drums. Bob played OK, but he only used one intro, which was I VI II V , two beats each, repeated twice. He used that on pretty much every song. He also played in just one tempo - what musicians call “businessman’s bounce,” or “hotel tempo.” That’s at a metronome setting of about 132-138 beats per minute. This tempo is pleasant, happy, and danceable, and plays very well with a country club audience. You might note that 138 BPM is just about twice the typical human pulse rate.
The lack of tempo variety eventually began to drive Bob's sidemen up the wall. Finally at one of these gigs, after 3 hours of the same intro and the same tempo, and with an hour still to go, Tommy decided to put it delicately to Bob: “Maybe we should play a ballad, just to change it up.”
Bob said, “That’s a great idea! We’ll play a ballad! Let’s play Body and Soul!”
So Bob started it off with an intro...I VI II V, repeated twice, at 138 BPM.
Auld Lang Syne
It was New Year’s Eve, 2000. As you may recall, it was a big deal - Y2K, a new millennium. The big band I played with at the time had a gig at the Pacific-Union Club in San Francisco. To say that this is a high-society club only begins to describe it. You have to at least look at the Wikipedia entry (scroll down for the “list of prominent members”), and perhaps read some of the Yelp reviews (“The first rule about the Pacific-Union Club is that you don’t talk about the Pacific-Union Club”). The membership overlaps considerably with the Bohemian Club (see this scholarly article). The club doesn't have a website, at least not one that you or Google can access. But I digress.
From about 7:30, I was with a quartet playing jazz standards at the bar. The piano player pointed out a former Secretary of State standing a few feet away, chatting. At about 9:00, we joined the big band in the ballroom for the dance sets, to usher in the new year. A special show was planned for midnight: At 11:45, there would be a Chinese lion dance, and then at the stroke of midnight, a bagpiper would walk in playing “Auld Lang Syne.” The band was instructed to join in, and the guests would all join in singing. We didn’t have a chart, and didn’t know what key the piper would be playing in.
So at 11:45 the lion dancers put on their show - very impressive. Then the guests were all brought to the floor of the ballroom facing the band, we counted down the seconds, and at the stroke of midnight the bagpiper walked in, playing “Auld Lang Syne.”
We caught the key immediately - he was playing in Bb, which fortunately is an easy key for a big band. However, the bagpiper had a sense of tempo that was, let’s say, extremely flexible. The music was quite chaotic, with the band trying to match a constantly shifting “one.” This Youtube video will give you a rough idea. Start at 0:45 in, and imagine a piper that is far more tempo-challenged. I don’t think the guests had much luck singing along.
May 30, 2026
The Johnny Lampson Orchestra
Years ago, I was on a big-band gig for a corporate event. Eddy Arnold, the country singer, was at the event for some reason, and was scheduled to sing "September Song," accompanied by our pianist, Reed Struppa. Before the gig, when we were setting up, Eddy asked Reed to find the key where he would be most comfortable. They rehearsed a little, and came up with some little-used, awkward key. After the gig, Reed told me, "When they do that, I tell them OK, then when the time comes I just play it in the nearest easy key, C or F or whatever. They never notice the difference."
Memorable Music Moments
Music has had a profound effect on every aspect of my life. I have been involved with music, in one way or another, for the past seventy years. Though there were many events that were memorable in nature, two particularly phenomenal experiences remain in my memory as “once in a lifetime occurrences”.
The first occurred shortly after moving to the San Francisco Bay Area where we, my wife and five children, were attending our first cultural event in the state of California. The year was 1968. It was a perfect day (the locals called it just an average day in paradise). The setting was magnificent. We were seated on the grass in the spectacular Amphitheater, on the campus of Stanford University in Palo Alto. The entire theater was ringed with towering Eucalyptus trees with a canopy of spotless, brilliant blue sky. The mood was festive, with an enormous crowd eagerly anticipating the beginning of a concert featuring the San Francisco Symphony conducted by guest conductor, the inimitable Arthur Fiedler.
The performance proceeded with the highly talented musicians of the orchestra putting unusual energy into their efforts to provide a memorable afternoon of music. The selection of music was light in nature, playing some of the songs for which The Boston Pops were noted, along with a sprinkling of semi classical arrangements working up to Respighi’s “Pines Of Rome”.
The music progressed through the frenetic sounds of the city of Rome, then on to the tranquil, peaceful sounds of the Appian Way. The music is written with bird whistles inserted to further enhance the peacefulness that exists as you leave the city and drive through the woods and countryside. The audience was taken up with the beauty of the music and they were responding as if they were an extension of the orchestra. Suddenly, as if on cue, the birds in the trees circling the theater all began singing. The audience and the musicians were spellbound. It was a perfect melding of music and nature. Every person was in total synchrony with the music. For a moment it all became one. Everyone knew that something very rare had happened. You could not have found a bad thought or bad feeling among the fifteen hundred people there. The overwhelming feeling of oneness and peace cannot be described. I felt privileged to have had such an experience.
Yet, some years later, a similar event occurred. I was conducting the Johnny Lampson Orchestra at an Elks Club dance, again, in Palo Alto, California. The dance was exciting with a very happy and responsive audience of approximately 400 dancers. The last song of the first set was an arrangement of Glenn Miller’s “In The Mood”, always an eagerly anticipated number. About half way through the song, everyone suddenly became totally synchronized with the music. The rhythm of the song permeated every person in the room. No one said a word. It was silent, except for the music and the sound of feet on the floor, all in perfect rhythm. For almost a minute, the entire audience was held in suspension, every vibration of the body in perfect vibration with the music. When the song ended there was silence for a few seconds, then the audience burst into applause and accolades. The musicians, normally a “tight” sounding group, knew that a special moment had occurred. The intonation, attacks and releases of notes, balance and feeling had reached an apex. Eighteen musicians were playing as one. Never had any of the musicians ever experienced such a feeling. It was absolutely my most exciting moment of a sixty-five year career in dance bands.
Though that experience was never repeated, every dance we played was a spiritual success. The exhilaration you get, bringing groups of people together with music, is unlike any other activity. Every sporting event is competitive, with people choosing sides and pulling against each other. Music brings all people together as one. There is no hatred, bitterness, or disappointments. In music, everyone wins.
JJ Lampson
Here are some pictures of the Johnny Lampson Orchestra in 1972, and the 1971 rhythm and trumpet sections. These were taken before I joined.
I still have one of those blue jackets. I wonder if they wore those same jackets in Harrison Peeck's band, maybe even back in Oak Forest, Illinois?


