Doug Raney’s personality is a bit hard to describe. He had a sort of tough guy, school-of-hard-knocks persona which he hid his intellect under.
Where we grew up in Briarwood was sort of a melting pot. There was some racial tension from time to time but for the most part we all got along. You just had to be cool enough to hang in the clique and act like you were willing to fight even if (for the most part) you didn’t have to.
The local place to hang was the P.S. 117 schoolyard with an alternate hangout in Hoover Park near Archbishop Molloy High School. As in any social settings where teenagers are involved, you need to develop a lane where your personality fit based on your particular strengths. This was no place to share intellectual thoughts. You either hung out, did drugs, drank, tried to get laid, talked shit about people or played sports.
Although my brother was generally good at all sports, he had a particular propensity for handball and he was a fierce competitor. My father commented that Doug always had to be the best at everything, and when he wasn’t, it pissed him off. As a result, he was one of the best handball players in the neighborhood. He had kind of an old school roundhouse stroke that was quite effective. And he was really good at putting the game away with a “roller” (this is judicious shot placed so low to the wall that it basically rolled after it hit the wall, making return impossible). People would come from other neighborhoods to challenge him.
Another of his fav sports was billiards. He had learned that from our Dad. He often would go to the Golden Q in the neighborhood. I tried to hang with them but both would take turns running the table as I just watch dejectedly waiting for a turn that would never return after a missed shot. But even on the billiard table you could see their distinct personalities. My brother was aggressive. He would wind up and whack the balls really hard sinking as many as he could on the break and follow-up the rack with great aim. My father was more of the scientist, he would use English, draws and spins and plan shots ahead with great positioning. My father had the edge but you had to watch out for Doug.
When my brother decided to take up guitar around age 14, again it was more a reflection of what the neighborhood kids were doing. Although he was obviously a fan of Dad’s music, jazz really wasn’t the thing in the neighborhood, being a rock guitar God was. Emulating Hendrix, BB & Albert King and the British guitar kings, Clapton, Beck & Page was where it was at. And there was plenty of pot, LSD and alcohol to go around and Doug really indulged. He was kind of living on the edge by his mid-teens and was causing a lot of tension at home. After his initiation into rock and eventually being the best guitarist in the neighborhood, he took an interest in jazz guitar and abandoned his Gibson SG for an L7.
At this point in his life (age 16-17) he was doing too much hanging out to all hours, getting shitfaced, practicing ceaselessly and not going to school. My mother to teach a lesson kicked him out. Somehow, he ended up in the apartment of my Mom’s new boyfriend Bob, who was now living with us. After that he moved in with guitarist Attila Zoller in Jackson Heights; Attila was kind of like our uncle hosting all of us at one time or another. By the time Doug was 20, he was on his own in Europe, gigging and learning on the job as he did with his early gigs with Dad at Bradley’s in 1976. It was sink or swim for him as he really had nothing else but his love of jazz guitar. All of his bad habits and demons unfortunately came along for the transatlantic ride as well.
But anyhow, somewhere in the middle between his feel for rock, his athletic timing and competitive personality from sports and his tough guy persona he situated his approach to jazz guitar. It’s hard to describe this exactly but when I listen to him play, I see his handball playing, his forceful break shot, his distinctive gait, his Heineken on the side, his fuck-off stare and his cigarette. It’s like the cool guy that really just does what he does, knows how and why he does it and makes no excuses for who he is.
And with this context I offer up this gorgeous cut that I discovered last year. The tune is the walking tempo rhythm changes tune, “Little Esther” by pianist Horace Parlan. Horace takes the first ride followed by Doug. Think about what I’ve mentioned here before about Doug before you listen to it. Also on the 1997 Concert are bassist, Lennart Ginman and drummer Keith Copeland. Swinging like mad!
Doug was at the top of his game at this point and the records he made during this period, Raney ’96, Back in New York and The Backbeat (with the recently deceased Joey D. Francesco) reflected this. if only there could’ve been more.
Happy Birthday once again my brother,
Love,
Jon
