Fort Worth, 11.8.2025

We headed over to Arts Fifth Avenue to catch the Johnny Case Trio, appearing as part of Arts Fifth's Second Saturday Jazz series. For 24 years, Gracey Tune's venue has provided a listening space for jazz, including an annual Django Reinhardt festival (originated by the late Slim Richey) and tributes to esteemed reedman James Clay (who my late buddy Jim Yanaway recorded at Caravan of Dreams). 

The estimable pianist Mr. Case is justifiably famous for having held down Fort Worth's longest-lived jazz gig (28 years!) at Sardines Ristorante Italiano, once every Fort Worthian's favorite date spot and a gateway to jazz for many (another: the Sunday night sessions at the late Tad Gaither's Black Dog Tavern, whose legacy is now carried on by Joey Carter and Paul Metzger at the Scat Jazz Lounge).

What Johnny represents to me is the jazz tradition before it was co-opted by academia and transformed from an ephemeral art informed by individuality into a canon of techniques and conventions that could be reproduced. With ears big enough to hear both Bob Wills and Cecil Taylor, Johnny is equally well versed in western swing and jazz modernism. His mother Floy Case, an early country music scribe and familiar of Ernest Tubb, is in the Country Music Hall of Fame. His brother Jerry, who passed in 2023, was a guitarist with whom he collaborated. 

Johnny mentored and encouraged generations of jazz players in Fort Worth, and turned overtly political following the invasion of Iraq in 2003. He is as well versed in the history of American popular song -- the "Great American Songbook" repertoire -- as he is in the rhythmic and harmonic innovations of his jazz predecessors. He is a unique treasure in a city that underappreciates its jazz heritage (from I.M. Terrell High School through Caravan of Dreams).

His current trio includes virtuoso bassist Nathan Phelps, son of ubiquitous Denton low-end master Drew Phelps and a CalArts graduate, and Keith Wingate, a jazz man for all seasons, on drums. I have history with Keith going back to when I used to write about his trio with Chuck Brown and Lucas White for the Fort Worth Weekly (where Gayle Reaves, also in attendance last night, beat all the Lester Bangs wannabe-ism out of me, to my great benefit) -- a unit that mixed '70s fusion repertoire with Beatle covers. 

When Keith heard I'd sold all my musical equipment after getting fired from my tech writing job at RadioShack, he gifted me a guitar and amp that got me through two years of house band gigs at the Wreck Room (RIP). When his children, now college age, were still small, he transposed his entire repertoire to the ukulele, because it was easier to carry when he was out and about with the kids. Over the years, Keith repeatedly reinvented himself, first as a stand-up bassist, then (seven years ago) as a drummer, to gig with Johnny. Luckily for us, he still gigs on guitar, too; I plan to be present on December 11, when he plays solo during happy hour at the Nobleman Hotel.

The music was standard repertoire: some ballads (played uptempo), some bossa nova, some blues: "Charade," "I Can't Get Started," "Wave," "Stella By Starlight," "Summertime," "Manha de Carnaval," "Solar." Johnny digs a strong groove, which Keith provides, playing inside the tunes (to which he knows the chord changes and lyrics) in a Jimmy Cobb/Roy Haynes bag, flashing his chops only when called on to solo or trade fours, giving the lie to his self-deprecating assertion that "No one else would hire me" with crisp and ingenious fills and terse rhythmic statements. Nathan's an able accompanist whether playing deft countermelodies or walking straight four-to-the-bar, soloing on every tune and taking the head on one at Johnny's request. His solo work is particularly strong in the bass's upper register, playing across the neck and fretting with his thumb at times. 

Throughout, Johnny fairly danced on the keys, always inventive and swinging, always faithful to the song. My mind drifted back to a hundred nights at Sardines, sitting in the warm candlelit glow while Johnny's music provided its own incandescence. If you haven't heard Johnny Case in awhile (or ever), you owe it to yourself.