Welcome to the Deep Dive. We're really glad you
could join us today. I want you to start by picturing
a web in your mind. Oh, yeah. Like a really messy,
tangled one. Exactly. A massive, tangled web
of history that stretches across completely different
eras and geographies. At one absolute edge of
this web, you have a highly controversial Russian
classical ballet premiering in Paris in 1913.
Right. And at another edge, you have this smoky,
incredibly rhythmic evolution of Afro -Cuban
jazz happening in Los Angeles in the 1960s. Two
very different worlds. Completely different.
And then at a totally different corner of this
web, you have this skyrocketing career of a Mexican
pop superstar. It sounds like a stretch, honestly.
It really does. How on earth do these three entirely
distinct worlds connect? Well, today we're going
to show you that they are all tied together by
a single four -minute piece of music. It really
is an incredible puzzle to piece together. We
are looking today at a stack of notes and a fascinating
Wikipedia article detailing a 1965 composition
called Morning. It was written by... the American
pianist, composer, and arranger Claire Fisher.
And a song's journey, especially this one, often
tells us vastly more about cultural cross -pollination
than a standard history book ever could. We tend
to think of songs as static things on a record,
but music is a living, breathing entity. It is,
and when we pulled this source material, I honestly
couldn't stop reading. The sheer domino effect
of this one song is staggering. Because our mission
for this deep dive is to unpack the fascinating
life cycle of a song. We're going to show you
how a single melody can mutate across decades,
across genres, and across entirely different
languages. It's a story of homage, of accidental
rivalry, and, well, of incredible endurance.
Right, and it's a testament to the fact that
when a composer puts ink to paper, they might
have a very specific vision for their work. But
as the source material brilliantly illustrates,
once that music enters the atmosphere, it belongs
to the musicians who play it and the audiences
who hear it. It really takes on a life of its
own. Let's set the scene and look at the origin
point. The year is 1965. Claire Fisher releases
an LP called Manteca. Produced by Richard Bach.
Yes, produced by Richard Bach and released on
the Pacific Jazz label. And right there on this
album is our focal point, the track Morning.
The song clocks in at exactly four minutes and
five seconds long. And those four minutes and
five seconds are about to make an incredible
mark on music history. They are. But to really
understand the impact of that specific album,
Manteca. Yeah. You have to understand where Fisher
was coming from creatively at that exact moment
in the mid -60s. Okay, set that up for us. Well,
for the previous three years, he had been deeply,
almost exclusively exploring Brazilian music.
Bossa Nova, samba, that was his entire musical
world. So Manteca represented a massive, intentional
musical shift. It was his very first recording
conceived entirely in the Afro -Cuban idiom.
So we have this massive shift into Afro -Cuban
sounds. Let's unpack this musically for a second.
If you aren't a jazz theorist, do not worry.
We're going to keep this totally accessible for
you. Very accessible. The Wikipedia source notes
that Morning is fundamentally a guajira or Afro
-Cuban jazz track. For a little context, a guajira
is a slower, deeply rhythmic Cuban musical style
that traditionally has a very acoustic, rural
feel to it. Right. It's very grounded. Exactly.
And this track was Fisher's first and remains
his most famous contribution to the cha -cha
-cha genre, which was a relatively newly evolved
dance style at the time. That's a great way to
frame it. And as a foundation for this foray
into Afro -Cuban rhythms, Fisher uses a very
traditional, comfortable architecture for the
song. Exactly. The song uses a standard A -A
-B -A structure. Think of that like a familiar
floor plan for a house. Yeah. You have your main
theme, the A section, you repeat it. Then you
walk into a new room, which is the contrasting
B section or the bridge. And then you go back
to the main theme, the final A. The whole cycle
is 32 measures in length. And a measure or a
bar is just the basic unit of time in music,
like a sentence in a paragraph. Right. So this
32 -sentence floor plan is tight. It is standard.
It is exactly what audiences and jazz musicians
of the era would expect to hear and play over.
It gives the listener a sense of security. You
know where the beat is. You know where the melody
is going. You are just grooving along to this
beautiful cha -cha -cha. But here's where it
gets really interesting. Because in that debut
1965 recording, Fisher decides to take a massive
musical detour that absolutely nobody would have
seen coming. Nobody. We're grooving along and
we're halfway through a trombone solo by a musician
named Gil Falco. According to that standard 32
measure floor plan we just talked about. This
is the exact moment the band is supposed to proceed
to the bridge. But they don't. They don't. Instead,
mourning completely morphs. The source notes
it turns into a 16 -bar development of a two
-measure motif taken from spring rounds. Let's
pause and translate that. For those who aren't
jazz musicians, a motif is just a short, catchy
musical idea. Think of the famous four notes
at the start of Beethoven's Fifth Symphony, that
dun -dun -dun -dun plot. Perfect example. So
Fisher takes a tiny two measure musical idea
from a completely different piece of music and
spins it out into a whole new extended 16 bar
section of his jazz song. And Spring Rounds,
for those who might not know, is the fourth section
of Igor Stravinsky's classical masterpiece, The
Rite of Spring. Yes. That is the controversial
1913 Russian ballet you mentioned at the start
of our deep dive today. The very same. He drops
a century -old Russian classical motif right
into the middle of a 1960s Latin jazz cha -cha
-cha. It's such a wild juxtaposition. What's
fascinating here is the sheer audacity of that
choice, but also the deep respect behind it.
You have to remember, the Rite of Spring literally
caused riots in the theater when it premiered
in Paris because it was so avant -garde and rhythmically
jarring. People were furious. They were throwing
things. And Stravinsky was one of Fischer's primary
musical influences. So this detour wasn't a cheap
gimmick. It was an unashamed homage. Fischer
is seamlessly blending early 20th century classical
motifs with the syncopated driving rhythms of
19... 1960s Latin jazz. That's incredible. It
really shows a composer who absolutely refuses
to see walls between genres. To him, great music
is great music, whether it was written for a
Parisian ballet stage or an American jazz club.
He really is brilliant. But as we move forward
in the timeline, the story of mourning. gets
incredibly messy and it gets messy specifically
when we start talking about the words oh the
lyrics yeah we transition from this tight beautifully
executed classical jazz fusion into an absolute
labyrinth of lyrics the historical record definitely
gets very murky here very as you read through
the wikipedia source you actually catch a really
funny contradiction right there on the page The
article states that Fisher's own lyrics for Morning
were not unveiled until 1980 or 1981. Okay. This
was with a vocal group he put together called
2 Plus 2, which was meant to supplement his Latin
jazz combo, Salsa Picante. So you read that and
think, okay, the official lyrics debuted in 1980.
But if you scroll just a bit further down to
the list of selected recordings in the very same
article, it lists a 1979 album by a vocalist
named Loras Alexandria called A Woman Knows.
And the notes explicitly state that this 1979
recording debuted his lyrics. It's a perfect
example of how jazz history is so often recorded
on the fly. It's full of messy, overlapping timelines
like this. And there's a good reason for it.
Think about the reality of the 1970s jazz scene.
It was chaos. Absolute chaos. You had musicians
constantly touring, playing live gigs in small
clubs where things might be tested out years
before they hit a studio. You had bootleg recordings,
independent labels with delayed release schedules,
and session musicians bouncing between projects.
Right, trying to piece it together. together
retroactively is a nightmare exactly session
dates constantly get confused with actual release
dates different musicians claim first based on
a live performance versus a studio cut it reminds
you that this music was happening in real time
often moving way faster than the people trying
to document it that makes perfect sense But that
little chronological contradiction in the late
70s is absolutely nothing compared to the massive
plot twist that had already happened a decade
earlier. Oh, boy. Because long before Fisher
could properly establish his own English or Spanish
lyrics for his own song, an absolute powerhouse
of a singer comes into the picture. And this
changes the trajectory of the song forever. It
does. In 1969, a young Mexican singer released
his eponymous debut LP. His name was Jose Jose.
And right there on his debut album, he recorded
a cover of Claire Fisher's Morning. Except it
wasn't called Morning anymore. Nope. Jose released
it under the title Una Mañana, which translates
to One Morning. And he didn't use Fisher's lyrics.
He used entirely different Spanish lyrics written
by a man named Joaquin Prieto. You really have
to understand the magnitude of what happens next
to grasp the importance of this moment. Jose
didn't just become popular in Mexico. He became
a massive, undeniable, once -in -a -generation
superstar across the entire Spanish -speaking
world. A total icon. Yeah, he was eventually
known as El Príncipe de la Canción, the Prince
of Song. His voice was ubiquitous. It was playing
in every household, on every radio station. And
because his star shined so incredibly brightly,
his debut album was heard. Which means his version
of the song became the definitive version for
the public. That's the crazy part. For millions
of people, Una Mañana wasn't a Claire Fisher
jazz standard that had been given new lyrics.
It was simply a beloved Jose. Jose pop anthem
that happened to be written by Joaquin Prieto.
The sheer magnitude of Jose Jose stardom all
but guaranteed that any official Spanish language
version Fisher tried to supply later was doomed
to obscurity. The public had already decided
what the song was and who it belonged to. Now
let me play devil's advocate here for a second.
The source notes that Fisher was still lamenting
this exact situation almost 30 years later. He
was deeply frustrated. But from a purely business
standpoint didn't Jose Jose's massive success
ultimately benefit fisher through songwriting
royalties i mean yes right because a massive
global pop hit has to pay the bills was it really
a tragedy for him or was it just a hit to his
ego It's a fantastic question. Financially, yes.
Having a melody you compose turn into a mega
hit is a windfall. Fisher absolutely received
composer credits and the royalties that come
with that. But this highlights a deeply human
element in the music industry, the frustration
of losing control of your artistic identity.
Yeah, sure. Fischer was a meticulous jazz composer
who wove Stravinsky into his cha -cha -chas.
He had a very specific, carefully crafted vision
for his art. To watch that art get hijacked,
simplified into a pop anthem, and completely
culturally redefined by someone else's lyrics,
that stings. It really does. The cultural momentum
of Jose Jose was a tidal wave Fischer simply
couldn't swim against no matter how much money
it made him. You really have to feel for the
guy when you frame it like that. Yeah. You write
this beautiful piece of music. Someone else writes
lyrics to it, becomes a global icon, and your
own official vision gets permanently sidelined.
It's tough. But despite that Spanish language
heartbreak, the story is far from over. Because
Fisher's original English lyrics eventually did
gain real traction in the jazz world. Mourning
became an undeniable standard, a true test for
serious vocalists. It gained an incredible amount
of prestige. It's not an easy song to sing well,
which is why it attracted so much top -tier talent.
Just look at the timeline of vocalists who cackled
it to prove their chops. You have Lisa Rich in
1983. You have Meredith D 'Ambrosio in 1989.
Jeannie Bryson sang Fisher's lyrics on a live
concert video in Warsaw in 1991. Nice. The legendary
Diane Reeves recorded it in 1998 on a brilliant
album called Afro -Cuban Fantasy. And even as
recently as 2014, Rosianna Vitro featured it
on her album Clarity, music of Claire Fisher.
And that is just the vocalists singing the English
lyrics. If we shift gears and look at the sheer
volume and caliber of musicians who recorded
instrumental versions of this track, it reads
like a who's who of jazz history. The list is
astonishing. Talk us through some of those instrumental
heavyweights and what they brought to the table.
Well, just a year after the original 1965 release,
Sergio Mendez records it on his album The Great
Arrival in 1966. And what's cool is that Fisher
actually arranged and conducted the orchestra
for that specific version. Oh, that's awesome.
Yeah. That same year, the great vibraphonist
Cal Jader records it on his album Soulburst.
Now that recording is special because it features
a young Chick Corea on piano. Oh, wow. Exactly.
Adding Correa changes the entire texture of the
track. His piano work brings this sharp, percussive,
incredibly innovative energy to the rhythm section.
Having Chick Corea on your track in 1966 is quite
the feather in your cap. Absolutely. Then you
jump forward to 1979 and you have jazz trumpet
legend Donald Byrd recording it. And on that
track, the entire song features Claire Fisher
himself ripping an electric piano solo. He had
to get in there. He did. And of course, we can't
talk about Latin. jazz without mentioning the
king himself, Tito Puente. Puente recorded live
at the Montreux Jazz Festival in 1980 and then
again on his 1986 album, Sensation. And Puente's
live version brings a completely different high
-octane, explosive energy compared to Fisher's
more controlled studio cut. The song just refuses
to sit still. It travels from artist to artist,
absorbing a little bit of their unique style
and instrumentation each time. And it even crossed
entirely out of the jazz and pop spheres and
into rock music. Oh, wait. In 1998, and then
again in a massive MTV unplugged session released
in 2005, the Mexican alternative rock band Café
Tacba clivered the song. And of course, they
recorded it as Una Mañana using the Jose Jose
lyrics. Which perfectly proves our earlier point.
It shows how deeply entrenched those Joaquin
Prieto lyrics had become in Mexican culture.
A 90s alternative rock band is covering it because
it's part of their musical DNA. It was passed
down to them from the Jose Jose era. Exactly.
They aren't covering a 1965 Claire Fisher jazz
tune. They are covering a Mexican cultural touchstone.
It is wild to think about that chain of events.
But I love that this story actually has an emotional
resolution for the Fisher family. It takes a
long time, but it finally happens. It does. It
brings the whole journey full circle right near
the very end of Claire Fisher's life. In 2012,
an album called Ah! and Sometimes Instruments
was released. This wasn't just any vocal group.
This was the Claire Fisher Voices. And the group
was directed by the composer's own son, Brent
Fisher. That is a true, beautiful family legacy
project. Precisely. And on this 2012 album, they
finally introduced and recorded the officially
approved adaptations of Fisher's original lyrics.
They recorded the official Spanish version called
Una Mañana and an official Portuguese version
called Manhá. Amazing. After nearly 50 years
of watching his song run wild around the world,
wearing everyone else's clothes, so to speak,
Fisher's family finally put his original official
vision down on the record. So what does this
all mean? We started with a 32 -measure cha -cha
-cha standard recorded on a Pacific jazz label
in 1965. And through this incredible timeline,
we watched it become a canvas for classical Stravinsky
homages. We watched it become the source of a
30 -year grudge because of a Mexican pop star's
monumental success. And we watched it become
a multi -generational, multilingual standard
played by everyone from Chick Corea to an alternative
rock band like Cafe Takspa. But then you release
it. Right. Once you put an idea, a project, or
a piece of art out into the world, it takes on
a life entirely its own. It is shaped by the
people who interact with it. It is molded by
the cultural forces of the time. It's like launching
a ship. You build the hull, you set the sails,
but the ocean ultimately decides where it goes.
Beautifully said. The art becomes a true collaboration
between the creator and the culture. Jose didn't
set out to ruin Claire Fisher's plans. He just
found a melody that spoke to his soul and made
it his own. And in doing so, he introduced that
melody to millions of people who might never
have bought a Latin jazz LP in their lives. It
leaves you with a really fascinating question.
I want you to mull this over as you go about
your day. We've talked a lot about the frustrations
of losing control of a song in the 1960s and
70s. But think about the future of music today.
It's a whole new ballgame. It is. With artificial
intelligence and TikTok trends allowing fans
to remix, rewrite, and instantly distribute an
artist's song across the globe in seconds, the
concept of owning your melody is more fragile
than it has ever been. Oh, absolutely. If Claire
Fisher was frustrated by a cover song in 1969,
imagine how composers will feel in 2030 when
a million different versions of their song are
created by the audience overnight. When art is
instantly malleable by the masses, what does
authorship even mean anymore? It's a daunting
reality that every modern artist is going to
have to face. It certainly is. We want to thank
you so much for joining us on this deep dive
into the source material today. We hope you learned
something new and that you'll never hear a jazz
standard quite the same way again. Until next
time, keep listening closely. Take care, everyone.