In 1962, composer-pianist Vince Guaraldi included an instrumental piece on an album of jazz tunes inspired by the film BLACK ORPHEUS. It became a hit single for the Vince Guaraldi Trio and won the Grammy as Best Jazz Composition the following year. It’s called “Cast Your Fate to the Wind.” And after more than half a century, it’s never gone away.
Guaraldi is best known for scoring and performing seventeen PEANUTS tv specials with a signature piano-led sound that really conjures up the cartoon characters. But his most lasting legacy just might be “Cast Your Fate.” The tune has been covered by so many artists that it’s mind-boggling. Many MOR instrumentalists have had a go at it, along with a wide array of others: the likes of George Benson, Earl Klugh, George Winston, David Benoit on the softer side; Quincy Jones and the British group Sounds Orchestral with lush multiplayer arrangements; even the James Gang on RIDES AGAIN, rocking “Cast Your Fate” to a “Bolero”-like drum cadence toward the end of their “Bomber” suite. Carell Weber wrote lyrics shortly after it hit the charts, and vocal versions have been recorded by Johnny Rivers, Mel Torme, We Five and the Sandpipers, among many others, but I don’t like a single one: the lyrics make the song too explicit, too ordinary. It’s as a pure instrumental that the tune really endures. I recently compiled a “Cast Your Fate” playlist just from the records I happen to own: being able to sort a database by song title makes it easy. The list takes nearly 40 minutes to play, but so far I haven’t tired of it. That’s because “Cast Your Fate to the Wind” is open-ended. The possibilities are limitless.
The piece begins with a gently loping lower-register line, then introduces eight light, haunting, faraway-sounding bits of dreamy harmony. It repeats this pattern, slightly adjusted, twice more. Then that inchoate tension finds release in warm major chords: here you detect the only bit of contemporaneity because the syncopation sounds so Sixtiesish, but it still makes you feel good. Now everything you’ve heard repeats. The second time through, you’re looking forward to that resolution at the end, can’t wait for it to arrive. But just as you’ve settled in comes the part which explains why “Cast Your Fate” attracts so many musicians.
Out of nowhere, the piece opens up into an improvisational section that has nothing to do with what has come before. Guaraldi’s inaugural hit version turns on a dime to a swaggering swing rhythm, doubtless reminding hepcats of Dave Brubeck’s time-signature mashups on his groundbreaking TIME OUT, but sounding fairly radical to a pop audience. The piece has now brightened — in fact it has teleported to a different place altogether — and the composer leans back into a midnight-set piano solo, Floyd Cramer “slipped notes,” walking bass line and all. But don’t get too comfortable: this center section ends as abruptly as it arrived. We pop back to that wispy tension-release combo which stated the motif at the top. Then the syncopated riff trails off, losing volume and notes until we can barely hear it. In my imagination, it too is borne away on the wind. Finally Guaraldi ends the track with a root-chord button (the only thing about the record I don’t care for: he should have just faded out).
A schizophrenic middle section is hardly a new invention. For example, the second movement of J. S. Bach’s Brandenburg Concerto No. 3 as written by the composer consists of only one measure with two chords, known to geeks as a “Phrygian half cadence.” We can’t be sure, but we believe Bach is inviting a keyboard or violin player to just wail, play an improvised cadenza or any verdammt thing he pleases, just so long as he winds up with the final notes that musically hand it back to the (once again tightly scripted) third movement. The sky’s the limit: interpretations of this section of No. 3 are as varied as are the players themselves. For the most extreme example I know, listen to Wendy Carlos’s space-age electronic freakout on SWITCHED-ON BACH — yet note how perfectly the bellicose Moogy mugging still leads in to Bach’s twinkle-toed third movement. (Carlos recorded the concerto twice more as the technology became more supple, and her second movement is different each time.)
I believe that ability to stretch out and make the piece your own is the secret to “Cast Your Fate to the Wind”’s longevity. It’s fascinating to hear different artists play with it, and not just jazzmen. The Sounds Orchestral dudes give the middle improv a lighthearted Vegas feel. Quincy Jones’s orchestral take is slow and sexy. Earl Klugh makes the piece sound as if it were written for guitar in the first place (lute players did the same for Bach). Allen Toussaint adds blue notes to that syncopated riff. Paul Brooks offers a dance beat. In George Winston’s version (it’s part of an entire album of Guaraldi tunes; George idolizes him) he keeps the left hand going in that same soft rhythm and realizes Guaraldi’s fading riff by reaching into the piano and dampening the strings with his fingers. Joe Walsh even does away with the center section altogether for the James Gang (to play No. 3, all you really have to do is hit two chords), but cleverly uses the main “Cast Your Fate” motif itself as a strange middle section in his own composition “The Bomber” for what amounts to a metamusical joke: whew!
To some snobs, “Cast Your Fate” is a square relic from the Sixties, like Nehru jackets or Rod McKuen poems. But not only do I love it — the theme and the center both — I sometimes crave it. I don’t think a year passes for me without at least one spin of the original Vince Guaraldi record, which still has the best snap to the improv of ‘em all. I know I’m not alone, because cover versions keep on coming. And no wonder. “Cast Your Fate to the Wind” is already beautiful by itself, but your personal touch and taste can make it belong to you.