By Louis Armstrong, I mean the Great American Artist. You may not know him. Toward the end of his career, he morphed into “Satchmo,” the Great American Entertainer and served up crowd-pleasers like “Hello Dolly” and “Wonderful World.” That was a delightful act, but it had nothing to do with the Louis Armstrong of the 1920s, when his trumpet cut through smoke and conversation and carved indelible circles of genius in the air. (This mugging and cheesy song selection did, however, make sense — in his glorious youth,. Armstrong made more than 60 recordings with his Hot Five and Hot Seven, and at no time did he ever get a royalty check.)

 

What is totally cool about Armstrong’s W.C. Handy project is that he recorded these songs in 1954, when he was coming into his known as a popular entertainer. [Porgy & Bess, the next and perhaps final flowering, was recorded with Ella Fitzgerald in 1957.] Clearly, it was no challenge for him to draw on his past glory, and, with a new band, surpass it.

 

This is exuberant, showy music. The clarity of Armstrong’s playing will astonish you — no one has ever come close. His band is superb: strong but subtle. And Velma Middleton on vocals not only gives as good as she gets, she has a droll sense of humor in her ad-libs. From start to finish, it’s just flawless. [To buy the CD from Amazon — at just $6.99 — click here.

To download the music from iTunes, click here.]

 

Think I’m hyping? Listen to “St. Louis Blues,” nearly nine minutes of greatness:

 

 

To appreciate fully the importance of this immensely enjoyable collection of songs, we must go back to 1888, when Antonín Dvořák suggested that America’s classic music consisted of traditional slave songs. He was slightly ahead of his time — W.C. Handy didn’t turn slave songs into the more accessible form of the blues until he wrote “Memphis Blues” in 1912 and “St. Louis Blues” in 1914. This was not a simple matter. It was art. Let Handy explain:

 

 

Handy was swindled out of the royalties to his early hits; as soon as he could, he became his own publisher. Armstrong, for his part, recorded “St. Louis Blues” several times without seeing more than token money — in 1925, with Bessie Smith; in 1929 with a big band; and again, in Europe, in 1934.

 

 

All was preamble for the 1954 recording. Handy, old and blind, came to the studio to listen to the tapes — very soon, tears streamed from his eyes. When he died, a few years later, 25,000 people were at his funeral. Another 150,000 stood in the streets. Yes, he was that good. And this album is the proof.