Claude Williams gives new meaning to the phrase "fit as a fiddle."

The 92-year-old jazz violinist is not only still active, but he also often swings as beautifully as he did six decades ago.

"The secret is just being lucky enough to change with the changes," said Williams, who is known as "Fiddler." "I'm always adding on new stuff. That's my idea of staying popular and sounding good."

Williams, who was honored last week at the Kansas City (Mo.) Blues & Jazz Festival, recently released a superb CD on the Bullseye Blues & Jazz label, Swingin' the Blues. His collaborators on the disc — bassist Keter Betts, guitarist Joe Cohn, drummer Jimmy Lovelace, saxophonist Bobby Watson and the great New Orleans blues pianist Henry Butler — are a fraction of his age.

The fiddler plays such standards as "Things Ain't What They Used To Be" and "These Foolish Things" with his agile, nimble, always-witty style. And he sings with impish charm as well. "The Preacher" (RealAudio excerpt) leads off the CD.

Williams' swing still sounds effortless: light and ferocious at once. His melodic and harmonic flair is nothing short of sensational. And his elegant improvisations are full of fertile ideas.

Just Getting Started

"On a good day, Claude swings harder than anyone else on Earth," said violinist Matt Glaser, who has often played with Williams. "He [is] a miracle. He gave Charlie Parker lessons, was Lester Young's roommate. At age 79 he started to seriously practice, and he's now getting better and better. Claude can knock any young guy off the bandstand, and I'm always happy to be the sacrificial lamb."

When he was an 8-year-old in Muskogee, Okla., Williams heard jazz violinist Joe Venuti, and the youngster's life was changed forever.

"I had already learned to play banjo and guitar completely by ear," Williams said. "Then I heard Joe Venuti, and I told my parents that's what I wanted to play. When I got home the next day, I had a violin there. I couldn't read. So I got a violin teacher, and I learned how to read music."

Williams began his professional career in 1927 with the legendary Twelve Clouds of Joy, at first led by T. Holder and then Andy Kirk. When the band moved from Tulsa, Okla., to Missouri, Andy Kirk's Twelve Clouds of Joy helped put Kansas City on the map as the birthplace of swing. The young Williams played guitar, violin and banjo. He first recorded in 1929.

Days With The Count

"When we went to K.C., Count Basie was in town then," Williams said. "Count and I would jam up and down 18th Street for quite a few years before he could get a band of his own."

Kansas City was packed with dozens of jazz bars. The music flowed as freely as the gambling, the booze, the prostitution and the political corruption. "In those days, you couldn't build a house or do anything without paying Boss [Tom] Pendergast," Williams said.

Despite 70 years of achievements, the most famous incident in Williams' life may be the time he was fired. "In 1937 I was with Count Basie's first band when he got to New York. I was recognized as the #1 guitarist in New York that year. But [producer] John Hammond didn't want anyone to overshadow Count. He didn't want anyone but Count in the rhythm section to solo, and whenever I soloed on violin, I always got applause. So Hammond replaced me with guitarist Freddie Green."

The Basie outfit went on to become the leading swing big band of the age, although according to Williams, Hammond, the man credited with Basie's discovery, was no savant of swing: "He fired five men at once from Count's band, and it took them a year to get halfway back in shape. I was pretty disgusted with Hammond."

The fates of Williams and Green contrast dramatically. Green worked in Basie's band for almost 50 years and was perhaps best known for never taking a single solo.

Williams, meanwhile, soon dropped guitar, concentrated on fiddle, and grew into one of the most fluid jazz violin soloists. Yet for many years he lived in relative obscurity, playing only in the Midwest. "When I came on back to K.C., I got a little group, guitar and violin. I started a little swing-with-strings band," Williams said.

No Early Retirement

Because of his decades out of the national jazz spotlight, few jazz fans have heard of Williams. Yet his low-key, Midwestern years set the stage for a gratifying comeback at an age when most men dream of retirement.

Williams' star rose in the 1970s. He played with his old hometown buddy, the great Kansas City pianist Jay McShann, on McShann's 1972 album "The Man From Muskogee," which achieved world renown. Williams was suddenly a hot "new" jazz name. He's been touring the world ever since.

In the early '90s, the National Arts Council featured Williams on a folk violin tour, which showcased classic American styles ranging from hillbilly to western swing. In 1998 first lady Hillary Clinton presented him with a National Fellowship Heritage Award.

Williams is not surprised at his 70-year career.

"I started off as a kid making my living. Music was paying real good money, $50 a week. I could have worked a month for $50 at another job.

"I hope music has kept me young. Maybe I've kept young because I never had any real hard jobs."