Review by Mike
The Man With The Golden Arm: A Retro Jazz Gem That Still Hits Hard
Alright, let’s talk about The Man With The Golden Arm by Elmer Bernstein Und Sein Orchester. Released in 1959 under the Brunswick label, this album is a wild mix of Stage & Screen vibes and straight-up jazz swagger. It’s got that Big Band energy with some Soundtrack flair thrown in for good measure. And honestly? It slaps. Like, it really does.
First off, props to the lineup—Bud Shank on alto saxophone, Shelly Manne on drums, Shorty Rogers doing double duty on flugelhorn and arrangements—you can tell these guys weren’t messing around. They brought their A-game. But what makes this album stick out isn’t just the talent; it’s how well everything flows together. You feel like you’re stepping into a smoky club or maybe even watching some gritty noir flick unfold before your eyes.
Now, let me zoom in on two tracks that’ll stay stuck in your head long after the needle lifts off the record (yeah, I said it old-school).
"Breakup" kicks things off with this brooding tension that feels cinematic as hell. Bernstein knows how to build drama without overdoing it. The horns punch through like they’ve got something to prove, while the rhythm section keeps things tight but loose enough to groove. It’s one of those tunes where you can almost picture the scene—a couple arguing under neon lights, rain pouring down outside. Classic stuff.
Then there’s "Desperation," which hits different. This track grabs you by the collar and doesn’t let go. Milt Bernhart’s trombone slides in like a knife, and Pete Candoli’s trumpet wails like it’s got a story to tell. It’s chaotic in all the right ways, capturing that raw edge Bernstein was known for. Every time I hear it, I think, “Man, if desperation had a soundtrack, this would be it.” No joke.
What gets me about this whole project is how timeless it feels. Sure, it came out in ’59, but listening to it now, it still sounds fresh. Maybe it’s because jazz has this way of aging like fine wine—or cheap whiskey, depending on your mood. Either way, it works.
Here’s the kicker though: I didn’t expect an album tied to a movie score to hit so hard emotionally. Like, yeah, it’s technically a soundtrack, but it stands alone as its own beast. By the end of it, you’re not just hearing music—you’re living it. And honestly? That’s kinda rare.
So yeah, whether you’re a jazz nerd, a fan of golden-age cinema, or just someone who digs killer instrumentals, The Man With The Golden Arm deserves a spot in your collection. Just don’t blame me when you start picturing yourself as the lead in some black-and-white drama every time you play it.
