Into the light: the life of Billy Strayhorn

There's a telling moment in the svelte new documentary about composer/pianist Billy Strayhorn when Orson Welles, hosting a TV show, compliments Duke Ellington for "Take the 'A' Train."

"Yeah, that's Billy Strayhorn," says Duke diffidently, but before he can finish the sentence, Welles interrupts, "I know, but it's identified with you."

And that pretty much sums it up.

Some scholars estimate that Strayhorn, the retiring, cherub-faced genius known to friends as "Sweet Pea," wrote nearly 40 percent of Ellington's material between 1939 and 1967 — including " 'A' Train," "Satin Doll" and big swatches of long works such as "Black, Brown and Beige." Throughout his career, however, Strayhorn lived in Ellington's shadow and even when he did receive credit — or cash — few noticed, and even fewer really cared.

Was this Ellington's fault? The music industry's? Strayhorn's?

"Billy Strayhorn: Lush Life," a 90-minute documentary by Robert Levi (who won an Emmy Award for a documentary about Ellington), explores the complex, symbiotic relationship between these two men with unusual nuance and depth, neither casting Strayhorn as a victim nor Ellington as a saint. It also accomplishes the more important task of disclosing the life and music of a musical genius.

Raised poor in Pittsburgh, Strayhorn was born in 1915 to a loving mother and a steel-working father who beat him. Not long after he had graduated from Westinghouse High School, Strayhorn had written an entire musical comedy and one of the most sophisticated ballads in American popular song, "Lush Life."

Strayhorn actively sought out Ellington, who embodied everything sophisticated and glamorous Strayhorn craved, and in 1939 was drawn into the Ellington circle. The lyrics to " 'A' Train" are a riff on the directions Ellington supplied to his house in Harlem.

It was an extraordinary relationship. Musically, Strayhorn absorbed Ellington's style so thoroughly he could, literally, complete Ellington's thoughts. At the personal level, Strayhorn was gay in an era when this was taboo (trombonist Juan Tizol refused to write out parts for Strayhorn). Ellington was a notorious womanizer. Yet no one ever got closer to Ellington than Strayhorn.

Strayhorn eventually tired of being "kept" by the egotistical Ellington, even in the high style he was afforded. But after drifting away he was lured back to a more equitable financial arrangement. Even so, he sometimes received little public credit.

Always an immoderate smoker and drinker (he kept chilled martini glasses in the fridge at all times), Strayhorn eventually died young, at 51, of esophageal cancer.

"Lush Life" unfolds this bittersweet story through interviews with, among others, Strayhorn biographer David Hajdu; musicologists Walter van de Leur and Gunther Schuller; Strayhorn's lover, Aaron Bridgers; family members; Ellington's son, Mercer (a rival for Duke's affection and respect); colleagues Quincy Jones and Eartha Kitt; and, in some of the most revealing passages, arranger Luther Henderson and pianist Don Shirley.

"Ellington's real talent," says Shirley, who played piano on the premiere of the Ellington/Strayhorn civil-rights-era opus, "New World A-Comin,' " "was getting you to do what you wanted to do and he would take the credit."

This is a candid but cynical twist on the received wisdom about Duke — that he always "composed for individual players."

Little live concert footage exists of Strayhorn. Levi makes up for this by including some rare home movies — one of Duke, seated, reciting some sad Strayhorn lyrics, nearly in tears — and excellent performances of Strayhorn songs by Dianne Reeves, Joe Lovano, Hank Jones and others — a nice touch.

Not so nice are the unnecessary "docudrama" segments by actor Dulé Hill, as Strayhorn, which could easily have been folded into the voice-over narration by Keith David, who narrated the Ken Burns "Jazz" series. (The Burns influence also extends to annoying, antiquish title cards dividing the program into "acts.")

In general, however, "Lush Life" flows with grace and intelligence, accomplishing what Levi says he aimed to do: "help set the record straight."

Paul de Barros: 206-464-3247 or pdebarros@seattletimes.com