"I have made an important discovery," Oscar Wilde is said to have mused, "...alcohol, taken in sufficient quantities, produces all the effects of intoxication." This has always been my favorite quote from that eminently quotable Victorian. For starters, it's not funny. Not by itself. The statement's humor is utterly contingent on the personality of its author. Spoken by almost anyone else (except maybe Winston Churchill) it becomes a banal and uptight truism. But, because you're expecting Wilde to say the perfect thing - the kind of thing you always wish you'd have said in the moment as opposed to thinking up on the ride home from wherever - it is made profound by virtue of its non-profundity. That is the power of reputation. It can imbue its owner with special properties and coax goodwill from an audience ready to meet him more than halfway. My only personal experience of this type of charisma came in 2001, when I had the good fortune to see a taping of Late Night with Conan O'Brien. After waiting in various hallways for the hours before the show began, we were all primed to receive the man we'd come to see. When he finally made his entrance, we laughed at everything he did. Everything. We were putty in his hands. Similarly, even before pressing "play" on my iPod, I feel as if liking Louis Armstrong Plays W.C. Handy was almost predetermined. This is an album featuring one legend performing the songs of another. Louis Armstrong, the ambassador of jazz, and W.C. Handy, a composer who helped legitimize the blues. With the help of a crack ensemble (the All Stars) - and especially the vocals of Velma Middleton - Armstrong shows what world-class musicians can do when they have material worthy of their talents. The interplay between the instruments is exciting and though Satchmo's trumpet leads the way, everyone is given a chance to shine. The frisky back-and-forth between Middleton and Armstrong (who is full of mischief here) as they trade barbs, flirtations, wisecracks, and punchlines is a wonderful showcase for the joyous humor that this music stirs up in people. Many of the song titles highlight the various locales from which the blues hail: "St. Louis Blues," "Long Gone (from Bowling Green)," "The Memphis Blues (Or Mister Krump)," "Beale Street Blues," Ole Miss Blues," "Atlanta Blues (Make Me One Pallet On Your Floor)," and - via Armstrong's own New Orleans - "Chantez La Bas (Sing 'Em Low)." You really couldn't ask for better tour guides. Like Wilde, Armstrong's reputation is not only well-earned, but it was well-honed. Scholars insist that many of the witticisms attributed to Wilde were likely developed through hours of preening. Only by primping himself in private was he able to summon the charm he commanded in public. So, too, Armstrong's music has an improvisational feel, though by 1954 he had been playing for so long that for him spontaneity was second nature. As a listener, I'm not certain whether the group's genius lies in making well-rehearsed moments sound so loose or in making organic music in such an expert fashion, but I am certain it doesn't matter. Grade: A+
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