The equinox has arrived and “the dead leaves gather on the shovel, the memories and the regrets as well” - “Autumn Leaves” is one of the greatest jazz standards with a matchless elegiac power even after 80 years. And the thing about standards is because there are hundreds of versions people will have their first encounter in hundreds of different ways. The first version I heard was Coldcut’s take from the early nineties, I definitely wasn’t initially aware that it was one of more than a thousand different recordings of the song. It’s a magical adaption with a simultaneously powerful yet delicate vocal performance from Janis Alexander and a rolling groove and string arrangements that immediately evoke Massive Attack and their work with Craig Armstrong in and around that time. When looking at the detail that comes as no surprise “Autumn Leaves” has a remix by long time Massive Attack collaborator Nellee Hooper, and through their Ninja Tune label Coldcut were instrumental in the creation of what latterly became known as “Trip Hop” (but that’s a whole other and much longer story):
For a certain generation of people who discovered dance music in the 90s that Coldcut version will always be the first that comes to mind, but a YouTube play count of a respectable 300k+ tells the story that most people have discovered the song in a different iteration. To find that we have to go all the way back to the aftermath of World War Two, French Poet and screenwriter Jacques Prévert, who amongst other things was a pivtoal part of the surrealist movement in the 1920s. What would become his most famous work has some of the dreamlike qualities of surrealism, but is also grounded in reality and poignancy. Prévert worked with Hungarian Composer Joseph Kosma to set a number of his poems to music, and in particular “Les Fueilles Mortes” (literally translated, “The Dead Leaves”). The musical version of the poem first appeared in the 1946 film “Les Portes de la Nuit”, a mystery film also scripted by Prévert, the song appearing in various snippets and sung by one of the stars of the film Yves Montand. Montand recorded a version in 1949 with Kosma’s unforgettable minor key melody firmly in place. For many French people the song is indelibly associated with Montand; in this live performance from the 70s, as he approached the autumn of his career, spontaneous applause breaks out when he speaks the first line:
A year after the Yves Montand version Johnny Mercer wrote English Langauage lyrics, retaining the themes from the poem and of course Kosma’s music. From there the song took on a life of it’s own. Though the original was the product of a classical composer and a french surrealist it was adopted as a standard by almost every chanteuse and crooner throughout the 1950s. Edith Piaf bridged the French and the English in 1951, Bing Crosby, Nat King Cole, Frank Sinatra and many more recorded versions. Where every singer takes a slightly different angle it’s the Jazz interpretations take the track to new dimensions and demonstrate the malleability of the song. There’s a deceptively simple violin and vocal take by Duke Ellington and his Orchestra in 1957, Vince Guaraldi (of Charlie Brown fame), recorded a piano led version in 1964, Chet Baker and Paul Desmond perform it in a more amped style in 1974. The version by Cannonball Adderley, Miles Davis, Hank Jones, Sam Jones and Art Blakey from 1958 is, quite simply, eleven minutes of wonder:
Generations after it’s first composition Kosma’s masterclass is still a perfect match for the the echoes of lost love and symbolism in the words. It has an unmistakable and unbreakable core that lends itself to endless re-interpretations, with more than 1400 recordings by 2012, and many more since. There are upbeat versions, like Barbara Morrison and Breeze, or acoustic guitar accompanied adaptions such as Eva Cassidy in 1996 and Tatiana Eva-Marie in 2023. But i’ll spin back to the Coldcut version for the last one to share; seminal producer and DJ Mixmaster Morris remixed it, and it has become, (alongside Smokebelch II), the definitive Balearic sunset masterpiece:
If you were feeling sprightly and not too melancholic and you’ve listened to any of these, sorry about that.