Vintage Lounge

Vintage Lounge has moved to Music You (Possibly) Won't Hear Anyplace Else

2006-06-04T14:51:00.000-07:00

That is to say, all future VL-style posts will be found at my other blog. The main reason--I can't keep two blogs going. I thought I could, but I can't.

MY(P)WHAE can easily "absorb" this blog. And I have plenty more vintage lounge music to post, so this blog is anything but dead. However, I can't keep it moving at the speed it needs to be moving. Partly, this is because the material in question hasn't proven to be as easy to find as I thought (though it's out there--believe me). And because it takes longer to edit, as a rule. We're talking relatively quiet music (as opposed to, say, She Loves You or Be True to Your School), as well as music that often shows up shellac, 10" LPs, or early 45s--which means noisy surfaces and/or pinched fidelity. Quiet music + noisy surfaces=an editing challenge.

Anyway, please turn to MY(P)WHAE for all future posts of vintage lounge music. Thanks for the support, and I hope to see you at the other blog!

Lee

"Ecstasy," again

2006-05-16T18:31:00.000-07:00

One can never get enough ecstasy, I always say. Well, actually, I've never said it. But I just typed it. (Please bear with me--I'm half-asleep!)

Anyway, I'm about to repost the seven Otto Cesana tracks I posted a while back in (let's see) February, and I am currently swiping the HTML code for the cover photo so that I won't have to upload it again. Here we are:

"Honey? Honey?? Wake up!! Oh, my God...."

The 1955 LP pictured above was a reissue of two earlier Otto Cesana efforts, including a 10-inch 1953 LP of the same name. (The old reissue-with-the-same-name trick.) Thus, all of the tracks on Side One are from 1953. And all of the tracks on Side Two are from... dunno. But I'm guessing about 1951. That's the closest I've been able to date them.

Two of the better numbers on this one are unplayable due to a bad needle dig, else they'd be included, too. I can fix just about anything with my software, but I can't make my stylus go through cross-cut canyons. Jumping over them--no problem. Going through them--nope.

These seven gems will more than make up for the two I couldn't include. This is about the best easy listening material ever recorded, in this blog's opinion:

Otto Cesana and His Orchestra, 1953 and 195-? (All composed by Cesana):

Night Train, 1953.
Marionette, 1953.
Reflection, 1953.
Whirlwind, 1953.
Symphony in Jazz, early 1950s?
Ecstasy, early 1950s?
Starlight, early 1950s?

Lee

Unforgettable 1938 Whiteman

2006-05-13T14:40:00.000-07:00

A year following George Gershwin's death, Paul Whiteman conducted a radio tribute to the composer that this blogger considers one of the high points of pop music history. From that concert, a medley featuring Clap Yo' Hands, Do It Again, I Got Rhythm, and Somebody Loves Me. Another blow to the relentlessly-promoted myth that mood music began after WWII:

Gershwin Medley, Paul Whiteman and His Orchestra with Jack Teagarden, trombone; and the Lyn Murray Signers and The Modernaires, vocal. 1938, from radio performance.

What I like most about that arrangement is the way it so beautifully segues between joy and sorrow, thus speaking to the beauty of Gershwin's music and to the pain of the composer's passing. Mood music, indeed.

Lee

1953--a great year for lounge!

2006-05-07T17:50:00.000-07:00

Lounge music, that is. I can't speak for the furniture of the period. That I don't know about.

Um.... Er....

Oh, no--sirens. The Lame Introduction Police are coming! I'd better get these up fast.

We have four 1953 gems to share today, including one I really went all out to secure a decent copy of. I refer to Morton Gould's recording of Reginald King's Theme from Runnymede Rhapsody, a.k.a. Where Water Lilies Dream (I kind of prefer Theme from...). I first heard it on a pop-infested thrifted single and decided I had to get my paws on a better copy. Soon after, I won it from eBay on a 10" LP which turned out to be groove-damaged beyond hope--someone must have tried to play the thing on a gramophone. (The dealer was cool, though--I never received a prompter refund.) Then I got another copy of the 45 (eBay, again), which looked great but sounded like crap, owing either to play with a bad needle or simply too much wear. A lesser collector would have given up, but not me--I went for the next copy that showed up on eBay. Which turned out to be fine. And this is the copy we're about to enjoy.

In all, this only cost me five thousand dollars:

Runnymede Rhapsody (Reginald King), Morton Gould at the Piano and conducting the Rochester "Pops," 1953. From Columbia 45.

Runnymede Rhapsody was composed in 1947, and it might be my favorite condensed concerto of all (to use a term I made up). That's what I call stuff like this. Masterfully done. And masterfully declicked by me--the really quiet piano part at the end had five or six loud digs. Smaller than anything, but loud. It's amazing how hard you have to squint sometimes to see something that sounds like BOOM! when the stylus crosses it. Hence, we vinyl collectors love symphonic-type music pressed on crammed-together grooves. I know I do.

This next mood masterpiece could use greater dynamic range--and my 78 copy had plenty. But I don't have it any more. I got this to sound pretty good, though, with some careful and clever lower-end boosting (talk about testing the line between mud and boomier bass):

Ebb Tide (Robert Maxwell), Frank Chacksfield and His Orchestra, 1953. From London 45.

Damn, that's a great side! Unlike Chackfield's stereo remake, which I can live without. I can also live without the song versions of this, as the thing is moody enough without the hokey lyrics and over-arrangements that got tacked on to Maxwell's contrived but clever tune. Whatever I just typed.

The flip, Ray Martin's delightful Waltzing Bugle Boy, isn't sonically pinched at all. Almost the reverse:

Waltzing Bugle Boy (Martin), Frank Chacksfield and His Orchestra, 1953. Flip of Ebb Tide.

Dumb title, killer piece--Waltzing Bugle Boy. Heard it for the first time when I made this file.

And we close with an unbelievably moody version of Charles Chaplin's Terry Theme, one that sounds more like Sixties easy listening than something pre-Elvis. As I have suggested before, Hugo Winterhalter was on the easy cutting edge. He really and truly was:

The Terry Theme (Chaplin), Hugo Winterhalter and His Orchestra, 1953. From RCA Victor 45.

I walk away from this post with that good feeling that only comes with having presented some of the very best sides in your record collection. I mean, my record collection.

One's record collection. There, I said it. (Damn, I hate "one's." Give me tens. Twenties, even)

Lee, in bad-word-play mode

Cows in the lounge, Part 2

2006-04-29T21:05:00.000-07:00

Finally, the remaining five tracks from this excellent cowboy-song collection. The delay has been due to 1) lots of stuff going on at my other blog and 2) troubles with uploading these files. Home on the Range, for instance, required three tries!

But that's all water under the, er, trough....

I'm an Old Cowhand (Johnny Mercer), Morton Gould and His Orchestra, 1954 or 1955.

Riders in the Sky (Stan Jones), Morton Gould and His Orch.

Home on the Range (Trad.), Morton Gould and His Orch.

Buckaroo Blues (Gould), Morton Gould and His Orch.

The Last Roundup (Billy Hill), Morton Gould and His Orch.

Enjoy!

Lee

"Frenchman in St. Louis" and the Not-Quite-101 Strings

2006-04-19T23:03:00.000-07:00

I posted Jack Pleis' Pagan in Paris at my other blog, and here's the flip, a take-off on George Gershwin's An American in Paris by way of W.C. Handy's St. Louis Blues. You'll hear snatches of Rhapsody in Blue as well as American, and you'll hear some fine piano playing by Pleis. As a piece of concert lounge, this rates a B+ in my book. Not quite a classic, imo, but close enough:

Frenchman in St. Louis (An Arrangement of St. Louis Blues) (W.C. Handy) (Arr.: By Jack Pleis), Jack Pleis and His Orch., 1955. From the Decca 78.

Just a guess, but I'm assuming that Pleis' Gershwin quotes weren't lengthy enough to cause any copyright issues? I wonder....

And, from 1954, here are two fun sides by long-time 101 Strings arranger Monty Kelly, albeit three years before the 101 Strings (as such) showed up. As we will hear, the 101 sound was already there, or darned near (more like 79 or 80, perhaps). Thanks, Barry Stoller, for the info on this one. (Visit Barry's excellent 101 Strings site when you have a moment!)

Tropicana (Bernie Wayne), Monty Kelly and His Orch., 1954. From an Essex label 78.

Life in New York (Bernie Wayne), Monty Kelly and His Orch., 1954. From same 78.

Wow--I was just reading that Life in New York was used as the theme music for the TV show I Am the Law. Far out. And you might remember Bernie Wayne as the man who gave us the theme music to Miss America. Wayne provided some original material for The 101 Strings early on, reports Barry--including half of Night in the Tropics. Far out, again.

The Essex label was owned by D.L. Miller, the man who (I guess we could say) invented The 101 Strings. Essex is remembered mainly as the label for which Bill Haley recorded Crazy Man Crazy and Rock This Joint, among other pre-Decca Comets numbers.

Now you know how Bill Haley, the Miss America theme song, and the 101 Strings are connected. And you probably didn't even know that they were. Pop music history can be (and usually is) pretty weird....

Lee

South American Tangos, Nat-Shilkret-style

2006-04-17T13:26:00.000-07:00

Today, for our vintage-lounge pleasure, we have two 1928 gems by the International Novelty Orchestra under the direction of (who else?) Nat Shilkret. The first was arranged by Leonard Joy, and the arrangement is... a joy. El Choclo (1913), composed by Angel G. Villoldo, is much better-known as Kiss of Fire:

El Choclo--Tango Argentino (A.G. Villoldo), International Novelty Orchestra, dir. by Nat Shilkret, 1928. From Victor 78.

The flip is almost as cool--another Tango Argentino, this is Y Como Le Va? (1911) by Joaquin Valverde:

Y Como Le Va?--Tango Argentino (J. Valverde), International Novelty Orch., dir. by Nat Shilkret, 1928. From same Victor 78.

In case we thought the Latin American music craze started in/with Fifties pop, now we know better....

Lee

Cows in the lounge--selections from Morton Gould's "Wagon Wheels"

2006-04-13T19:30:00.000-07:00

Morton Gould's Wagon Wheels LP, released on Columbia in 1954 or 1955, is the usual superior Gouldesque easy listening. And I can't believe I just typed "Gouldesque easy listening." (I did. ) Ohhh-kay. We'll just move on.

So, what do I mean by "Gouldesque"? I guess I mean light orchestral music as streamlined as the smoothest 1940s Andre Kostelanetz, yet as big-sounding as early-1960s Mantovani. I don't know how Morton managed to pull off both gimmicks at once, but it made for an interesting contradiction in style(s). We like a little conflict in our easy.

Especially Mantovani-esque (ooo, I love that!) is the LP's first track, High Noon. And, you know, looking at this track line-up, I have to wonder if these weren't actually recorded around 1953 and not released until later. Just a guess, but seeing as how Morton moved to RCA in 1955, do you suppose Columbia might have had him record a bunch of stuff so that their Gould catalog wouldn't suddenly run dry the moment he departed? (Such as Victor did with Paul Whiteman before he moved to Columbia?) So, I'm guessing this stuff is more like 1953.

No matter. Whether it's from 1953 or 1955, the big, big sound of this track is way ahead of its time. In my opinion, anyway:

High Noon (Tiomkin, arr. by Morton Gould), Morton Gould and His Orchestra, 1954/55. From the LP Wagon Wheels.

Here are three more Western-lounge gems from that Columbia LP:

On Top of Old Smoky, Morton Gould and His Orchestra, 1954 or 1955.

Wagon Wheels (Billy Hill-Peter De Rose), Morton Gould and His Orchestra, 1954 or 1955.

Tennessee Waltz (Redd Stewart-Pee Wee King), Morton Gould and His Orchestra, 1954 or 1955.

Riders in the Sky didn't survive the transfer from my Dell to Box.net, so we'll start with it next time. More cows in the lounge to come....

Lee

Three loungey "Light Classics" from George Melachrino

2006-04-07T10:45:00.000-07:00

From 1958, and in terrible stereo, here are three high-class lounge concertos (lounge-certos?) written in the 1940s. Well, the first two were, anyway--and I'm guessing that the third (Copper Concerto) hails from the same period. It sure sounds like it. Donald Phillips' Concerto in Jazz was a Melachrino concert staple, and it's a lot of fun. Donald couldn't have guessed that, years alter, the 101 Strings would be recording entire LPs that sounded like this:

Concerto in Jazz (D. Phillips), The Melachrino Orchestra, 1958. Pat Dodd, piano solo. (From Light Classics, ABC-Paramount ST-90665)

Look on the Internet, and you'll probably find a year of 1943 for Artie Shaw's famous Concerto for Clarinet. Or you might discover it was written for a 1940 movie. I discovered both. So, I'm thinking that maybe it assumed its present form in 1943, that Shaw revised it sometime after its film premiere. Dunno. Shaw fans might hate me for this, but I consider the work to be lounge through and through. And boring, but that's just my opinion:

Concerto for Clarinet (Shaw, Arr; W. Hill Bowen), The Melachrino Orchestra, 1958. Gordon Lewin, clarinet solo. From same LP.

Copper Concerto, credited to "Melachrino, Ewing, and Durandeau," is my favorite of the three concertos. It's lighter than light, but the best lounge usually is. I wish I could find out something about this work. The last section has a John Williams sound--must be the flutes and the enigmatic I to II progression, which has become such a Hollywood cliche that it barely registers anymore:

Copper Concerto (Melachrino, Ewing, Durandeua), The Melachrino Orchestra, 1958. From same LP.

Great stuff, but such awful stereo is not something we expect from ABC-Paramount. And they were capable of much better. Maybe there's a story behind the awfulness of the two-channel sound, here.

Another longe-certo coming up!

Lee

The J.H. Squire Celeste Octet, from 1928--"Absent" and "La Cinquantaine"

2006-03-26T10:08:00.000-08:00

I'd call this sort of music the roots of lounge, but that phrase has been trademarked, thank you. Those three words, in that precise combination, are owned by Beyond the Roots of Lounge ("Home for Hepcats"), which means that nobody else in the entire world can use them.

In other news, I have some golf courses for sale on the planet Jupiter. Golf on Jupiter--It's a Gas®.

Anyway, here we have a dreamy, elevator-y ("elevator-y"??) treatment of the 1899 hit Absent, and years before Kostelanetz and Gould were doing the same thing to the songs of Gershwin, Porter, and Kern:

Absent (John W. Metcalf), J.H. Squire Celeste Octet (1928). From Columbia 78.

The flip side is La Cinquantaine (The Golden Wedding) by French composer Jean Gabriel-Marie in 1887. Again, classic mood-music fare, though not, obviously, written for that genre:

La Cinquantaine (Gabriel-Marie), J.H. Squire Celeste Octet (1928).

While we're on the subject of early, early lounge music, here's a 1907 recording by Chris Chapman that, if given a Sydney Torch or David Carroll treatment, could pass for a hi-fi-era novelty instrumental. The record is pretty hammered, but I got a listenable file from it:

Dance California (George W. Gregory, 1894), Chris Chapman, Bells with orchestra, 1907. From Victor 78.

Sounds a little like the 1916 hit Nola, no? (Nola No? Wasn't that a musical comedy by Vincent Youmans?)

Anyway, the roots of lounge are right here at... Vintage Lounge.

Lee

More Majestic sounds from Percy Faith

2006-03-19T20:57:00.000-08:00

Well, two more tracks, anyway. There are four, in all, on the second Percy Faith and His Orchestra set on Royale, but the sound on All Through the Night and Tia Juana is atrocious. Possibly, this is due to wear, but I suspect the pressing and transfers are mostly to blame. Good tracks, but I don't want to subject anyone to such awful fidelity. As it is, I'll be years with an audio therapist working past this awful experience.

By the way, do you notice anything interesting about the cover?

Namely, that it looks an awful lot like Set No. 1?

Just a little, no? Anyway, here is Temptation, from 1947, and Noche Caribe, from... same year, maybe.

Temptation (Freed-Brown), Percy Faith and His Orchestra, 1947. Originally released on the Majestic label.

Noche Caribe (Faith), Percy Faith and His Orchestra, 194?, Majestic label.

More lounge sounds to come!

Lee

Majestic sounds from Percy Faith

2006-03-16T12:14:00.000-08:00

I love this cover--it's tacky in an arty sort of way. And the music contained within is easy listening at its most listenable. Two of the tracks are Vintage Lounge reruns, but they sound better than before, I think. Here, then (I mean, now), is Royale EP 119 in its entirety--four tracks recorded in 1947 for the Majestic label, though they may sound like later, hi-fi-era efforts. That's because, as we frequently note, this kind of music was around way before it was supposed to have been. Someday, this will become the official truth, but not today. Not so long as there is $$ in marketing this music as the progeny of lounges and hi-fi sets. And I have no idea what I just wrote. (I guess I've been wanting to use the word "progeny." To impress people, you know.)

Gotta have at least one big word per essay.

Meanwhile, Vintage Lounge will continue to tell the whole truth, without holes, about easy/lounge/exotica music. We're just gutsy like that.

Oops--I said I was going to present the music "now," and that was two paragraphs ago. So, to the Muzak, er, music. Oh, and please note that the really lousy-sounding portions were in the originals--Royale was either working with damaged masters or slightly hammered copies. They had an ultra-cheap reputation to uphold, you know:

Begin the Beguine (Cole Porter), Percy Faith and His Orchestra, August, 1947. From Royale EP 119.

Dancing in the Dark (H. Dietz, A. Schwartz), Percy Faith and His Orch., June, 1947. Same as above.

That Old Black Magic (J. Mercer, H. Arlen), Percy Faith and His Orch., June, 1947. Same as above.

The Touch of Your Hand (O. Harbach, J. Kern), Percy Faith and His Orchestra, August, 1947. Same as above.

I just got my hands on another Royale EP of Percy Faith. If it plays worth a darn, I'll work some MAGIX on the tracks and post them as a follow-up.

Faith may not rock, but he rules!

Lee

Two more from "Lure of the Tropics"

2006-03-03T19:20:00.000-08:00

Andre Kostelanetz' Lure of the Tropics appeared in 1954 on the Columbia Masterworks label; then it reappeared in 1955 as part of the CL (popular) series. In fact, a number of Kosty's CL-series LPs are, in fact, reissues of earlier Masterworks albums, in case you didn't know. As if record collecting wasn't complicated enough already.

(Wait a minute--I already wrote this intro. Hold on....)

Sorry about that. I appear to be repeating myself. Not only that, I'm repeating myself.

So... these are the final two tracks from my four-track Lure of the Tropics EP (released on Masterworks, than you), and they're great, even if I had to do more than the usual de-clicking, etc. At Vintage Lounge, we love the straight-from-vinyl sound, but there's no point (click) in taking it too (pop) far (bam!). Granted, one goes with the other in analog formats (i.e., music and noise), but not if we can help it.

At several points in this first selection, the arrangement seems to be clearing the way for a Spikes-Jones-style interlude, but there's a nary a tin can to be heard:

The Moon of Manakoora (Frank Loesser-Alfred Newman, from the movie The Hurricane, 1937), Andre Kostelanetz, 1954. From Columbia Masterworks EP A-1838.

Andalucia (Ernesto Lecuona), Andre Kostelanetz, 1954. From Columbia Masterworks A-1838.

I love Andre Kostelanetz. My kind of easy listening. I'd take a shot of the EP cover, but my Kodak software slows my Dell down every time I use it, and I'm about to uninstall the dang thing! (This is a warning to the software. I hope it's reading this.) Seriously, I might remove it so I can reinstall it without the five thousand features I don't use. That might speed things up a little. It drives me nuts--all I want to do is take photos and load them into my computer and edit them. I don't want to be part of some worldwide network of Kodak users.

Thanks. I feel so much better after venting.

More easy/loungey sounds to come....

Lee

Two from "Lure of the Tropics"

2006-03-01T23:10:00.000-08:00

Andre Kostelanetz' Lure of the Tropics appeared in 1954 on the Columbia Masterworks label; then it reappeared in 1955 as part of the CL (popular) series. In fact, a number of Kosty's CL-series LPs are, in fact, reissues of earlier Masterworks albums, in case you didn't know. As if record collecting wasn't complicated enough already.

1954 is kind of pushing the upper limits of the historical window for this blog, but a blogger's gotta do what a blogger's gotta do. (Besides, it's my blog, and I can do whatever I want to do.)

Seriously, I like to draw the line at 1953, but it's not like the Accuracy in Blogging Cops are heading this way as we speak. (Wait a minute--do I hear sirens?) Ohhhh, no. Better hide.

Meanwhile, here are Kosty's versions of Kashmiri Song (Pale Hands I Loved) and Jamaican Rhumba. The first number, a depressing but gorgeous art song, was first published in 1902 with words by Laurence Hope and music by Amy Woodforde-Finden. Laurence Hope was, in fact, the British poet Violet Nicholson, who poisoned herself in 1904 (at the age of 39) upon the death of her husband, General Malcolm Hassels Nicolson. Thomas Hardy was one of her admirers. Now you know. Information courtesy of this excellent article.

Dig the theremin on the first selection:

Kashmiri Song (Pale Hands I Loved) (Nicholson/Woodforde-Finden), Andre Kostelanetz and His Orchestra, 1954. From the four-selection Columbia EP Lure of the Tropics.

Jamaican Rhumba (Arthur Benjamin) , Andre Kostelanetz and His Orchestra, 1954. From same disc.

Lee

Lounge Along With Mitch (or, Mellow Out with Mitch)

2006-02-26T14:08:00.000-08:00

It's funny, the way we can hear what we expect to hear. That's what happened to my ears, anyway, when they took in these ultra-smooth Mitch Miller tracks from the early 1950s: to wit, they heard strings. Why? Because easy-listening records have strings. As we all know. So, they heard them. Front and center. Or, rather, back and center.

Then, while I was copying composer credits from the album in question (Mmmmitch!, Columbia CL 601, 1954), my eyes noticed that the tracks were credited to "Mitch Miller with Horns and Chorus." And I exclaimed to myself, "Hey--no strings. No wonder these sound a little different." Yes, indeed, chicken-feed (a local expression that does not show up on Google).

Because I associate strings with EZ, I heard them. Even though they weren't there. Psychologists have a word for this: plain nuts. I mean, two words.

Anyway, this music functions beautifully as Hugo-Winterhalter-style easy listening, and without strings, thank you (save for piano, harp, and--I think--Celeste). I like this stuff better than MM's more brash "sing-along" style, though I don't mind the latter--it had its place, especially on Guy Mitchell's records. But here's a mellower Mitch than you might know or expect:

The Sea of the Moon (Freed--Brown, from Pagan Love Song), Mitch Miller's Horns and Chorus, 1952. From Mmmmitch!, Columbia CL 601. (So, Miller's singers could do something besides shout! Step aside, Anita Kerr. Astonishing, the stuff that had evolved before hi-fi sets became popular.)

Cuban Nightingale (Sun Sun Babae; George R. Martinez), Mitch Miller's Horns and Chorus, plus Stan Freeman on harpsichord, 1952. (The chorus in "sing-along" mode, and Freeman in virtuoso mode. Killer exotica!)

Oriental Polka, Mitch Miller's Horns (and percussion!), with Stan Freeman on harpsichord, 1953. ("La Choy makes Chinese food....")

Song of Delilah (Livingston--R. Evans--Victor Young), Mitch Miller's Horns and Chorus. Vocal by Burt Taylor; oboe solo by Mitch Miller, 1952.

Autumn Leaves (Johnny Mercer--Joseph Kosma), Mitch Miller's Horns and Chorus, 1952. English horn solo by Miller. (Best of the bunch, in VL's opinion. Predates Roger William's hit version by three years.)

I just noticed that box.net (my storage spot) isn't retaining the track info for recently-uploaded tracks. This is probably a temporary "bug." Meanwhile, however, listeners can again play files at the box.net site. Cool!

So far, box.net's latest changes have been for the better, by far. And I don't object at all to getting 400 percent greater storage space for no extra cost! Can't complain. (Though I usually manage to find a way. (<:)

Lee

Whittemore and Lowe: "Two Grand" (1946)

2006-02-20T07:50:00.000-08:00

When I first heard the material on this 45-RPM set, I couldn't believe it was from 1946. No way. However... way.

Not this edition, mind you (45s didn't appear until 1949, as we all know), but the recordings themselves. Apparently, this set is/was a reissue of the 1946 78-RPM set of the same name, same line-up. If it sounds more like 1960 Ferrante and Teicher than 1946 Whittemore and Lowe, then don't be alarmed--this is, after all, the Vintage Lounge blog. Though even I didn't expect to find the basic F&T sound at such an early date in history--I figured the early 1950s, perhaps, but not just after the close of WWII. But here it is--a duo-piano-with-orchestra sound specific to the pop charts of 1960, only a lot earlier. I think they call this phenomenon "history."

Here, in order of their box-set appearance, are Arthur Whittemore and Jack Lowe's amazing duo-piano-with-orchestra recordings from 1946. Lover makes its second appearance here:

Lover (Hart--Rodgers), Whittermore and Lowe, with the RCA Victor Orchestra, 1946. From "Two Grand."

The Song Is You (Hammerstein II--Kern), with the RCA Victor Orchestra, 1946.

In the Still of the Night (Porter), with RCA Victor Orchestra, 1946.

The Continental (Magidson--Conrad), with the RCA Victor Orchestra, 1946.

Falling in Love with Love (Hart--Rodgers), with the RCA Victor Orchestra, 1946.

Brazil (Russell--Barroso), with RCA Victor Orchestra, 1946.

They Didn't Believe Me (Reynolds--Kern), with RCA Victor Orchestra, 1946.

That Old Black Magic (Mercer--Allen), with RCA Victor Orchestra, 1946.

Lee

"Trylon and Perisphere," a Ferde Grofe classic

2006-02-17T11:37:00.000-08:00

From the CD Paul Whiteman--Carnegie Hall Concert, December 25, 1938 comes this gem of a Ferde Grofe composition:

Trylon and Perisphere (Grofe), Paul Whiteman and His Orchestra. Performed live at Paul Whiteman's eighth (and last) Experiment in Modern Music. (Edited) comments by Deems Taylor.

This is such a wonderful piece, I hate to take any portion of it to task, but things get a bit turgid during Grofe's usual reprise-athon near the end--I wonder if the fault lies in Grofe's writing or if the performers hadn't quite gotten the score down? Maybe a little of both. At any rate, Trylon and Perisphere, written for the 1939-1940 New York World's Fair, was by far the best work featured in the concert, which is available for purchase here. It's a very interesting historical document, even if most of the works--by folks such as Richard Rodgers, Raymond Scott, and Duke Ellington--are less than inspiring. The slow moments are more than made up for by Fred Van Epps' Quonk, Morton Gould's The Bell Fugue, and a performance of Gershwin's Cuban Overture (with Rosa Linda--who completed the work after Gershwin died--at the piano!) And, of course, by Trylon and Perisphere. As a lover of Arthur Honegger's music, I listen to Grofe's piece and wonder if he was trying to render Honegger in easy-listening terms. If so, I can't imagine a more successful experiment.

A rare example of what "Pops" concerts could be, if there were only more Grofes out there....

Lee

An intensely delightful track from "Ecstasy"

2006-02-11T18:37:00.000-08:00

A rather unfortunate album title/cover art combination....

The cover art to 1955's Ecstasy is just a little overdone, though what was merely ridiculous in 1955 now looks downright disturbing--a dazed woman swooning in a dark room, a man's hands gripping her shoulders, an empty couch waiting behind her, and the word "Ecstasy" in large letters above her. Oops.

Some images don't age well.

But some of the music on this Otto Cesana gem has aged not merely well, but superbly. Best of the bunch, probably, is Symphony in Jazz (First Movement), which, like the rest of the material, was composed by Cesana himself.

When I spotted this LP in a flea market several months ago, I could tell by the catalog number that it was from the mid-Fifties, and the titles struck me as old-fashioned for that period. Plus, the playlist (fifteen titles) seemed unusually long. So I should have suspected, right off, that this was a reissue of older material--probably two ten-inch albums' worth. However, I had (in spite of these clues) not a clue. And after years of collecting vintage mood music on LP. Sheesh.

Luckily, I quickly established, via Google, that Ecstasy is a reissue of two 10" Cesana efforts: a circa-1950 Ecstasy (Columbia GL-103) and 1953's Sugar 'n' Spice (Columbia CL 6261). These are the albums that make up Side One and Side Two, respectively. And it just occurs to me that I probably related this boring story already, a number of posts back. Oops.

The moral is, never assume the issue date of a mood/easy/lounge LP has anything to do with the date of the material. That's one of the first LP-collecting lessons I ever learned, though apparently I'm very capable of zoning that lesson out.

Well, nobody's perfect. And no piece of music is without flaws, either, though Symphony in Jazz is still pretty darn good. I was sure it would be a first-rate piece of fluff, a la The 101 Strings (whom I love), and a hodgepodge, like most concert jazz efforts. Instead, the music is lively, interesting, jazzy enough, AND superbly organized. In fact, it adheres very nicely to sonata form, as far as I can tell--the standard form for a symphony's first movement. The liner notes helped me follow every detail, and I'd type them here if I hadn't already gone on too long. Let's get to Cesana's excellent jazz symphony:

Symphony in Jazz (First Movement) (Cesana), Otto Cesana and His Orchestra, circa 1950. From 1955 Ecstasy LP.

And here's a Cesana repeat from 1953: Whirlwind, which originally appeared on the Sugar 'N' Spice LP. Fun, brilliantly-orchestrated mood music:

......

Um. Rather, let's hear it next time. Looks like I didn't upload the file. Behind the blog, things are very hectic right now, but we expect some calm to return to the picture soon. Whirlwind was probably not the track to be uploading, at least at the moment!

Lee, coping

Merv and Mort say "Welcome back!" to VL

2006-02-06T16:28:00.000-08:00

VL being Vintage Lounge, of course. And Merv and Mort being Merv Griffin and Morton Gould. An odd combo, but nothing wrong with that.

We begin with 1949's Your Kiss, which appeared as the flip side of The Merry Christmas Polka, oddly enough. The Freddy Martin band produced plenty of first-rate lounge during Merv Griffin's stay--one ultra-smooth chart after another, all superbly complimented by Griffin's mellow baritone. (You can probably tell I'm a Freddy fan.) Martin's was not the first of the smooth big bands, by any means, but his came the closest to the spirit of Mantovani and Percy Faith. Which, around this part of the Blogosphere, is something to praise:

Your Kiss, Merv Griffin with Freddy Martin and His Orchestra. (78 buried in stack; no composer credits handy!)

Next, Morton Gould's flashy and fun The Bell Fugue, composed for Paul Whiteman's eight and last Experiment in Modern Music. Needless to say, a very Raymond Scott feel to this, though more skillfully done in the Classical-content department. From the CD Paul Whiteman at Carnegie Hall, which I way-highly recommend. The works, overall, are a mixed bag, but the concert is a great historical document, and the highlights--such as this piece and Ferde Grofe's marvelous Trylon and Perisphere--are worth the price tag, I think. And, for Scott fans, there are three of his, including the interesting (however gloomy) Suicide Cliff.

Anyway, here's Mort, as superbly presented by Paul Whiteman:

The Bell Fugue (Morton Gould), from the CD Paul Whiteman at Carnegie Hall, Nostalgia Arts 303 3025, 2005. VL says, buy it--you'll love it!

Another reason to purchase the Whiteman CD: Rosa Linda shows up, performing Gershwin's Cuban Overture, which she completed following Gershwin's death in 1937! To quote Johnny Carson, I did not know that. I am impressed. Rosa is just one more musician who deserves to be much better-known.

Lee

State of the blog

2006-02-02T06:40:00.000-08:00

Greetings! My apologies for the lack of activity at this blog--I do hope to get things going again, and soon. What's been happening is that Music You (Possibly) Won't Hear Anyplace Else has been taking all of my blogging time, AND things have been unusually hectic hereabouts. Time is hard to find. Newsweek, too. Chortle, guffaw.

Sorry.

Anyway, I'll do my best to restart this site. Meanwhile, my thanks to, um, Anonymous for pointing out that Jesse Crawford accomplished A Precious Little Thing Called Love by his lonesome--I was afraid that might be the case, but I couldn't find specific disc. data for the track. My ears told me the xylophone and piano were the real thing(s), hence I referred to the other two musicians. (As it turns out, Jesse 2 and Jesse 3.) A calculated risk. Not knowing enough about theatre organs, I didn't know that these instruments often (or as a rule?) had xylophones and pianos literally built into them! Not synthesized, of course, but the genuine, actual sounds.

There. I think I covered my be-hind pretty well. (Oops. I didn't mean to type that out loud!)

Seriously, I appreciate corrections. It's like free knowledge for me--an unbeatable deal.

And I have got to get this blog going again....

Lee

The Roots of The Three Suns

2005-12-29T22:18:00.000-08:00

Actually, I hate the term "roots." I'll have to be honest. Part of the reason I hate "roots" is because it's ambiguous. Does it mean "the foundation of" or "a precursor to"? Both meanings pop up all of the time in music reviews, which is why I consider it sort of a joke term. But it's such a standard one, I can't resist using it. Only my psychiatrist knows for sure, and he's forbidden me to come back. "You're crazy!" he yelled, as he kicked me out of his office.

Enough weirdness. Unless we find it strange that The Three Suns' sound preceded them. And it did, by a number of years. Proof: Jesse Crawford's highly-TS-sounding A Precious Little Thing Called Love, from 1929. I don't know who the other guys are....

A Precious Little Thing Called Love, Jesse Crawford, organ. 1929.

More Three-Suns-esque sounds from organist Lew White--don't know who's on the xylophone. This dates from the earliest period of The Three Suns, but White had been doing this for a while. I'm trying to get my paws on White's late-1920s/early-1930s material:

The Whistler and His Dog (Arthur Pryor, 1905), Lew White, 1941.

And here's Lew White with two musical helpers--this one is way Three Suns. And, just between you and me, it also sounds way pre-1941, but that appears to have been the year:

The Wedding of the Painted Doll (Freed-Brown, 1929), Lew White, 1941.

Hopefully, I can land a copy of White's 1929 Brunswick recording of Doll....

The original sheet music cover for The Whistler and His Dog, courtesy of http://www.angelfire.com/ny/nyuk/whistler.html

Lee

Tamboo, Caravan, Hindustan

2005-12-15T18:34:00.000-08:00

Or, how exotica can ya get-ica?

I never heard of Tamboo until I came across this recording of it. The parallel ninth chords in the middle section immediately made me think of Les Baxter--who, it turns out, recorded an LP called Tamboo in 1956. You Baxter fans already knew that, but I didn't. My ears made an astute connection, there.

Here, from 1955, is the American Symphonic Band of the Air with a terrific rendition of Francisco Cavez' samba (please click on the label image for MP3 file):

And, from 1952, here is the exoti-standard Caravan, as played by the harmonica duo Martin and Brown (with steel guitar assistance, I'm assuming):

Caravan (Duke Ellington, Juan Tizol, Irving Mills), Martin and Brown, The Harmonica Duo, 1952. From Republic label 45.

From harmonicas to harp (wait a minute....), here's Robert (Ebb Tide) Maxwell with the 1918 Oliver G. Wallace and Harold Weeks hit, Hindustan:

Hindustan (Wallace, Weeks), Robert Maxwell, 1953, from Mercury label LP.

More to come-ica!

Lee

Exoti-Boogie: Rosa Linda, Ben Light, and Louise Wilcher

2005-12-02T21:30:00.000-08:00

Some keyboard Exotica for your enjoyment, beginning with Louise Wilcher and Harry Campell's 1941 organ-and-Novachord version of Amapola (Pretty Little Poppy). The best kind of futuristic, oom-pah skating-rink music (perfect for futuristic, oom-pah skating rinks):

Amapola (Pretty Little Poppy), Louise Wilcher, Hammond Organ; Harry Campbell, Novachord, 1941. From Columbia 78.

From 1948, the "lightning fingers" of Ben Light (piano), with Herb Kern (organ) and Lloyd Sloop (Novachod). For years, I've seen Ben Light 78s on Tempo, never buying a one. What a mistake. To my ears, the Novachord gives this a '70s, post-electric-piano sort of sound. I had a patch that sounded exactly like it on my Korg Poly-800 synthesizer.

Benny's Boogie, Featuring the Lightning Fingers of Ben Light (at the Steinway), with Herb Kern (at the Hammond) and Lloyd Sloop (at the Novachord)," 1948. From 78 on Tempo 506.

And now for two incredible sides by pianist Rosa Linda, who performed Gershwin's Cuban Overture in 1938 with Paul Whiteman's orchestra and who appeared in the musicals Banquet of Melody (1946), and Carnegie Hall (1947). Rosa also cut Will Success Spoil Rock-maninoff for the Era label in 11957. From www.showandtellmusic.com, here's an image of that cover:

We're going to hear Tabu and Flight 88, both recorded for Allen Records in 1953. Rosa, by way of tape effects (including sped-up tracks and sound-on-sound) achieves an uncanny imitation of Ferrante and Teicher.

Tabu (Margarita Lecuona, 1941), Rosa Linda at the Piano, 1953. From Allen Records 232 (78 RPM).

Flight 88 (R. Linda), Rosa Linda at the Piano, 1953. From Allen Records 232 (78 RPM).

More early Exotica/lounge sounds to come....

Lee

Kamasutra/Street Scene--Buddy De Franco and Richard Maltby

2005-11-28T19:33:00.000-08:00

The fascinating 78 I'm about to share with you is one of interesting contrasts: Jazz heavyweight Buddy De Franco paired with mood maestro Richard Maltby; and lively exotica (side A) coupled with the mellowest and most sophisticated easy listening (flip).

Also, I find the Kamasutra/Street Scene combination kind of odd, as you hopefully wouldn't be practicing the former on the street. Unless it were very late (and very dark).

"NOT FOR SALE!" appears on both sides, suggesting that MGM had such high regard for the music, it was loathe to place mere monetary value on it. Or that it was trying to scare DJs into not selling the record. Obviously, that tactic worked, as evidenced by the zillions of "Not for sale" 78s that still exist.

Anyhow, 1953's Kamasutra is a De Franco-Maltby composition, arranged and conducted by Maltby (though it was his orchestra, Buddy was busy with his clarinet solo). The modal portion features a Misirlou-ish flattened 2nd, and the relative-Major section is nicely jazz-chromatic. And I can't believe I just typed "nicely jazz-chromatic."

By gosh, I did. It's too late for me, but you can avoid falling into the hyphenated-adjective trap. Don't become like-me.

Where were we? Oh, and there's lots of percussion. Or maybe, in its loudness, it only seems like lots. It works, which is all that matters--though I wonder how many 20-lb. weights were required to keep the mike grounded.

Click on the photo for the music (aren't we fancy?).

And here's the flip, ten times more mellow but just as potent. Alfred Newman's Street Scene was written for the 1931 King Vidor film of the same name, and I love it to death even if it's more than a little indebted to Gershwin. Not that the latter composer invented the blues scale or Vb9 chords, but his sound is all over this--according to my ears, anyway. On the other hand, if only Gershwin could have produced something as smoothly Gershwinesque as Street Scene .

More lounge and exotica to come (and shortly, this time)!

Lee

Exotica through the years, part 4: More big band exotica

2005-11-12T14:48:00.000-08:00

This time, it's Paul Whiteman, Harry James, Freddy Martin, Harry Roy, Ted Weems, and... Andre Kostelanetz? Yup, Andre Kostelanetz, whose pre-Columbia-label orchestra could perhaps be termed a really big band. His acres-of-strings sound had yet to show up on shellac.

And here's Andre's really big band on the Brunswick label with Coubacaban, from 1937:

Coubacaban (Escarpenter--Morejon), Andre Kostelanetz and His Orch., 1937.

Next, it's Andre again with Xavier Cugat's My Sombrero, from the same year and label:

My Sombrero (Cugat--Stillman), Andre Kostelanetz and His Orch., 1937.

Now, Harry James and Frank Sinatra take us to a little street in Singapore, courtesy of lyricist Billy Hill and tunewriter Peter (Deep Purple) De Rose. In spite of the minor noise on this track, the selection is in a "Major key," to use NPR's phrase. Sophisticated melody, inane lyrics. The big band era was full of those.

On a Little Street in Singapore (Hill--De Rose), Harry James and His Orch., featuring Frank Sinatra, 1937.

This next piece of Roosevelt-era exotica takes place At the Cross Roads. Harry Roy's pop-song adaptation of Ernesto Lecuona's Malaguena features skillful exoti-crooning by Marjorie Kingsley:

At the Cross Roads, Harry Roy and His Orchestra, feat. Marjorie Kingsley, 1943.

Andre's really big band returns with Harold Mooney's Swamp Fire, from 1938 (and Brunswick):

Swamp Fire (Mooney), Andre Kostelanetz and His Orchestra, 1938.

From 1947, here's Freddy Martin and His Orchestra with pianist Barclay Allen's own Cumana:

Cumana (Barclay Allen--Roc Hillman--Harold Spina), Freddy Martin and His Orch., featuring Barclay Allen, 1947.

From 1933, Ted Weems' mega-after-the-fact-hit Heartaches, rendered rumba-style. This track is invariably labeled corny or worse, but it's extremely well-arranged, and Weems' musicians were some of the very best of the big band period. I suspect that Elmo Tanner's whistling has a lot to do with the disrespect accorded this superb dance record. Besides, corny is O.K. at Vintage Lounge:

Heartaches (John Klenner--Al Hoffman), Ted Weems and His Orch., featuring Elmo Tanner, 1933.

Paul Whiteman closes this set with four excellent tracks, beginning with Ferde Grofe's quite imaginative arrangement of Narciso Serradel Sevilla's big 19th-century hit, La Golondrina (The Swallow):

La Golondrina (Sevilla, arr: Grofe), Paul Whiteman and His Orchestra, 1928.

Next, Rimsky-Korsakov's Hymn to the Sun, as Fox-Trot-ized by Ferde:

Hymn to the Sun (Rimsky-Korsakov, arr: Grofe), Paul Whiteman and His Orchestra, 1936 radio broadcast.

I don't know, but I'm guessing that Victor Herbert isn't a big name in exotica history. Perhaps he should be--listen to his Cuban and Oriental serenades from the 1924 Suite of Serenades, as recorded by Paul Whiteman in 1928:

Suite of Serenades--Cuban (Herbert, arr: Grofe), Paul Whiteman and His Orchestra, 1928.

Suite of Serenades--Oriental (Herbert, arr: Grofe), Paul Whiteman and His Orchestra, 1928.

Big band exotica at--where else?--Vintage Lounge.

Lee (afraid he may have broken Spell Check with this post)

A hint of Esquivel; roots of Ray Conniff?

2005-11-04T22:12:00.000-08:00

This single was in my "to listen to" pile for about a year, and I'm glad I finally got around to spinning it--it's in my "to be sorted" pile now. We'll start with the flip side, One Kiss, which begins and ends in pure Juan Garcia Esquivel mode (courtesy, mainly, of the uncredited vocal chorus), with the mellowest kind of EZ big-band in between. Exotica and over-the-top "wordless" vocalizing on a Tommy Dorsey record! The kind of find I live for.

One Kiss (Romberg--Hamerstein II), Tommy Dorsey and His Orchestra, 1953. From Decca 45.

Actually, One Kiss appears to have been the plug side. But it was The Most Beautiful Girl in the World that made the Top 40--a side that, for want of an echo chamber, would have been right at home on Ray Conniff's 1956 'S Wonderful album.

The Most Beautiful Girl in the World (Rodgers--Hart), Tommy Dorsey and His Orchestra, 1953. From Decca 45.

And these two tracks have convinced me that I was right, after all, about the Ray Conniff sound of Hugo Winterhalter's chorus of the late 1940s and early 1950s. I had decided I was wrong on that score ("Apologies Due" post), but now I realize that my ears and memory weren't fooling me. So nice, to be able to trust both again.

To celebrate that happy reconciliation, let's hear Hugo Winterhalter's chorus and orchestra, from 1950, with the highly Conniff-esque The Third Man Theme:

The Third Man Theme, Hugo Winterhalter's Orch. and Chorus, 1950. Columbia label.

I guess this means that Conniff didn't invent the idea of voices trading off with instruments. Of course, Winterhalter most likely didn't, either. I wonder how far back that pop tradition dates? (This is a job for Vintage Lounge!) The point is, musical features are not things invented by any one arranger or orchestra leader; rather, they evolve over time. A concept that flies in the face of most pop music scholarship, true, but one that Vintage Lounge holds to in spite of any, and all, intelligent-design scenarios to the contrary (such as, Elvis inventing rock, Benny Goodman inventing swing, Link Wray inventing power chords, etc.). And this is why we find "later" features popping up years before they were supposed to have happened. Proof that changes occur over time, and often when and where we least expect them. (Oops--I forgot to subtitle this paragraph Conclusions.)

Lee

Exotica through the years, Part 2: Perry Como and Tony Martin

2005-10-19T14:48:00.000-07:00

As Rose Room is to How High the Moon, Temptation is to Misirlou. What, you may wonder, am I talking about?

Well, according to Alec Wilder, Art Hickman's 1919 Rose Room was one of the jazz-improvisational vehicles of choice in the days before High High the Moon (1933), and for the same reason: its chords are constantly in motion. Nothing like the nonstop modulation that is Moon, but Hickman's tune accomplishes nearly as much, and with considerably crater economy. I mean, greater. Similarly, Temptation provided pop music listeners with the Misirlou scale (the name of which I forget) before the tune of that same name hit the pop charts, and without stating that mode as explicitly. In fact, Temptation's exotica-cliche I/bII chord change serves as a sort of cover for the scale's lowered 2nd and 6th. Tunewriter Nacio Herb Brown's 1929 Singing in the Rain is better-regarded by pop song historians, but we think they're all wet. Perry Como's hit 1945 recording really emphasizes the Misirlou nature of the song, thanks to Ted Steele's over-the-top-and-then-some arrangement:

Temptation (Brown--Freed), Perry Como with Ted Steele and His Orch. (1945).

And here's a more mellow--but far from dull--semi-Classical rendition from 1945, courtesy of my favorite such conductor, Morton Gould:

Temptation (Brown--Freed), Morton Gould and His Orch., 1945. (Orig. from 78 set, After Dark.)

Speaking of mellow, not to mention moody and melancholy, here are Tony Martin and David Rose with a subtle and spooky turn at Taboo:

Taboo (Margarita Lecuona--S.K. Russell), Tony Martin, with David Rose and His Orchestra, 1941.

Possibly the only thing less likely than exotica from Jesse Crawford (besides exotica from Perry Como, which we've already heard) is killer exotica from Jesse Crawford. But that's just what we're about to hear--expert and earnest Ernesto Lecuona on the Wurlitzer:

Siboney (Ernesto Lecuona--Theodora Morse), Jesse Crawford, Wurlitzer organ, 1931.

More pop exotica to come. Actually, exotica is already pop, so "pop" pop exotica might be the term I'm looking for. (To hyphenate or not to hyphenate? That-is-the-question.)

"Alec Wilder--who's that?"--Nacio Herb Brown, only one of whose songs is mentioned, none too positively, in Alec Wilder's American Popular Song.

Lee

Count Bingula presents: Scott roots and rock roots.

2005-10-14T13:01:00.000-07:00

This MYPWHAE/Vintage Lounge simulpost brought to you by Count Bingula.

Count Bingula (a.k.a. Bingo) says, "Goot day!" The Count recently discovered an interesting Raymond Scott precursor, along with a couple of rock-roots tracks, and all in the person(s) of The Dorsey Brothers. The Count is so excited by these finds, he can't sleep. Hence, he's stayed up well into the daylight hours (see above). He's been after me to get this post done, so I'd better do the Count's bidding.

The Scott-roots track is a once-famous number penned by Jimmy Dorsey called Oodles of Noodles (1932). Not too long ago, I posted Percy Faith's big-violin 1949 version, which is excellent in its own right but not very Scott-ish. So, what do we have here? We have Jimmy Dorsey's alto sax speeding along in Scott-style 16th notes, we have a tempo change for the moody middle section (more of a shift in rhythm(s); the speed change isn't as drastic as it seems), and we have the same kind of "modern" chords and jazzy syncopation. Note the +11 chord in the second strain, which later became Jimmy's radio theme, Contrasts. Oh, and note the silly, cartoon-style title. Keep telling yourself, "Nobody else wrote music like Raymond Scott's. Nobody else, etc."

Oodles of Noodles (J. Dorsey), The Dorsey Brothers, 1932.

The following three Dorsey Brothers sides feature superbly imaginative arrangements, probably by chief arranger Glenn Miller. Here's where I have to agree 100 percent with Scott (as opposed to his extollers), who regarded Miller as the best talent on the block. No argument here. The rock roots consist of the extreme gospel feel of 1934's Annie's Cousin Fanny (composed by Miller!) and the somewhat prominent rock-style backbeat; also, the no-nonsense, highly pronounced boogie-woogie of Milenburg Joys (1934), and Stop, Look and Listen (1934).

Annie's Cousin Fanny (Miller), The Dorsey Brothers, 1934. (Step aside, Hank Ballard!)

Milenberg Joys, The Dorsey Brothers, 1934.

Stop, Look and Listen, The Dorsey Brothers, 1934.

Glenn Miller, a rock-roots arranger? The idea isn't as far-fetched as it seems, by any means. Besides, rock historians are always telling us that gospel, blues, and boogie-woogie are in the Top 5 of rock influences, and all three things are powerfully present here. So, we're virtually compelled to agree with Count Bingula on these matters, I think.

In time, I'll post an amazing Glenn Miller Orchestra side called The Hop, which was composed by none other than Ray Conniff. It's a fast swing number that builds and builds in intensity, finally settling into twelve-bar-blues choruses and an afterbeat that threatens to bounce the stylus off the platter. Miller and Conniff, apparently, were at the hop years before any teen quartets arrived.

Lee

Exotica through the years, Part 1

2005-10-11T12:13:00.000-07:00

That branch of pop music known as "exotica" began with Martin Denny. And rock and roll was invented by Elvis. And The Sting reintroduced ragtime to the American public.

Now you're ready to start your career as a pop music journalist. Have fun.

Meanwhile, back at the blog, we will examine the history of exotica a little more closely. We'll start by traveling back to 1956, where we'll visit a few record stores and grab some Sun Elvis 78s and assorted blues and rockabilly sides to sell when we get back to the future. Once we've done that, we'll zip back 35 more years to 1921, where the sounds of Max Dolin's Orchestra are ringing forth from a nearby cabinet gramophone:

Si Llego a besarte (Dame un beso) (Bolero Cuban), Orquesta Max Dolin (1921).

"If I Get to Kiss You" is the translation of the first part of that title. Great stuff--Max's band was a rhythmically looser version of Paul Whiteman's, almost. And, speaking of Paul, here's a side by that hard-drinking King of Jazz called Down in Old Havana Town, known to Bix Beiderbecke collectors primarily as a Whiteman side featuring Bix but without a solo (and therefore of no interest). In fact, the side boasts a highly imaginative Ferde Grofe arrangement, interesting rhythm(s), and at least one brief change of meter--from 3/4 to 4/4 (the latter being the time signature of the verse, I'm betting). And great playing, too. But no Bix solo. Maybe I should throw it in a landfill. (Just being sarcastic.)

Down in Old Havana Town (arr: Ferde Grofe), Paul Whiteman and His Orchestra, 1928.

Now let's jump back nine years (bumpy ride, no?) to 1919, the year that Art Hickman began his recording career. If the idea of 1919 exotica seems like too exotic a concept, then give these beautifully-played performances a cyber-spin:

On the Streets of Cairo, Art Hickman and His Orchestra, 1919.

Cairo, Art Hickman and His Orchestra, 1919.

"Someday, guys, they'll call this stuff 'exotica'!"

And we close (for now) with two famous Lecuona numbers--the first by Margarita (Taboo) Lecuona, and the second by the better-known Ernesto (Malaguena, Granada, Andalucia) Lecuona. Jan August, whose Dizzy Fingers didn't get a rave review at this blog, does a terrific job on the Ernesto number.

Babalu (Margarita Lecuona), Jan August, 1951.

Siboney (Ernesto Lecuona), Lenny Dee, 1955.

More exotica-through-the-years to come!

Lee

Four versions of "Misirlou"

2005-10-05T23:38:00.000-07:00

Here are four recordings of Nicholas Roubanis' Misirlou, beginning with Freddy Martin's 1948 big band version. Hard to choose a favorite from these--The Cardinals' performance, maybe. Or Martin's. Or Herman's, possibly. Actually, Grant's is nice, too. Hm....

The Cardinals are maybe a bit out of place, vintage-lounge-wise, but what the heck.

http://box.net/public/lee/files/918630.html Misirlou, Freddy Martin and His Orchestra featuring Stuart Wade, vocal, and Barclay Allen, piano. (1948)

http://box.net/public/lee/files/918629.html Misirlou, Woody Herman and His Orchestra featuring Woody Herman, vocal. (1941)

http://box.net/public/lee/files/918628.html Misirlou, Harold Grant and His Orchestra (1941).

http://box.net/public/lee/files/918631.html Misirlou, The Cardinals (1955).

Enjoy!

Lee

Leading-edge Lounge

2005-10-03T10:42:00.000-07:00

Seven examples of vintage lounge that sound as if they were recorded 10, 15, 20 years later. Innovative lounge--is that possible? Of course. It's what this blog is all about.

We start with Jerome Kern's Poor Pierrot, arranged by Morton Gould, who plays the piano on this. This sounds, to my ears, as if it were recorded circa 1966--so much so, you can almost hear the stereophonic sound. Gould just doesn't get the respect he deserves, lounge-history-wise. And it's possible he wouldn't want it, come to think of it.

Poor Pierrot (Kern), Morton Gould, piano and orchestra, 1951.

And here's Alfred Newman, from 1953, conducting his very own Street Scene--a symphonic jazz classic he penned for King Vidor's 1931 movie of the same name.

Street Scene (Newman, 1931), Alfred Newman conducting the Hollywood Symphony Orchestra, 1953. From Mercury 45.

And, as an added bonus (isn't that a redundant redundancy?), here's George Greeley with the Warner Brothers Orchestra, from 1961:

Street Scene (Newman, 1931), George Greeley, Warner Brothers Orch., 1961. (Is there an echo in here?)

That was George Greeley with the Warner Brothers Orchestra, in case I forgot to mention it. And here is--I mean, are--Arthur Whittemore and Jack Lowe with the RCA Victor Orchestra (cond. by Victor Alessandro) in a roots-of-Ferrante-and-Teicher performance of Lover. This is another side that could easily pass for 1966, let alone 1946.

Lover (Rodgers-Hart), Whittemore and Lowe with the RCA Victor Orchestra, cond. by Victor Alessandro, 1946.

Another ahead-of-his-time loungster (loungster??), Andre Kostelanetz, is definitely not regarded by most people as the cutting edge of anything. But witness (aurally) how much this 1944 gem sounds like The 101 Strings, circa 1958. Which, again, isn't something that cries "innovation," but these things are relative, needless to say....

Blues in the Night (Harold Arlen), Andre Kostelanetz and His Orch., 1944. From vinyl (shellac would be more authentic, but I only have vinyl, in this case).

Louis Alter (best-known, possibly, for Manhattan Serenade) wrote the following gem in 1950. Here's Domenico Savino's 1959 recording:

Stranger in the City (Alter), Domenico Savino and His Symphonic Strings, 1959. From RCA Camden LP.

And we close with the late Salvadore "Tutti" Camarata's light music gem of 1953, Pizzicato Rhumba, which is exactly what the title describes. (Who would dare come up with a name like that and not live up to it?) Camarata, of course, arranged for Jimmy Dorsey and later worked for the Disney label (Annette, et al.), which he cofounded!

Pizzicato Rhumba (Camarata), Camarata conducting the Kingsway Symphony Orch., 1953. From Decca 45 (recorded in England).

And... Blogger's photo upload is not working (again). Oh, well.... It's the music that matters!

Lee

Raymond Scott, Part 7: Alec Wilder, again

2005-09-26T20:18:00.000-07:00

"Then there was Alec Wilder’s Octet. Extraordinarily advanced for its time. He wrote things like The Neurotic Goldfish and Debutante’s Diary."--Spike Milligan.

"He was too pop for the classical world and too longhair for pop; in Europe he would have found a niche, but in the USA Wilder was not marketable."--MusicWeb Encyclopedia of Popular Music.

"In essence, Wilder's music was so original that it didn't fit in any of the preordained musical slots and stylistic pigeonholes. His music was never out of vogue because, in effect, it was never in vogue, its non-stereotypical character virtually precluding any widespread acceptance."--G. Schirmer, Inc.

"Wilder's music is the music of the universe. Its sound waves bounce off of every planet and star and asteroid, and will continue to do so for eternity until the universe becomes nothing but sound waves. At which point, sound will be All, and All will be sound."--Count Cookula.

"Drinking is sophisticated."--Beyond the Roots of Lounge.

"You can shay that again!!"--Street wino.

"There are only two kinds of music: interesting and uninteresting."--Attributed to nearly every musician of the 20th century.

"Boy, this is complicated. We can't even tap along to it. Shit, you actually have to listen to this stuff. The melodies and chords, and all of those musical details. Don't you have any Raymond Scott?"--New York Times.

"Alec who?"--Fresh Air, NPR.

And here are three gorgeous late-1930s tracks by the Alec Wilder Octet: Neurotic Goldfish; Sea Fugue, Mama; and Concerning Etchings. Gorgeous, sophisticated concert jazz for those weary of the more cartoony variety. We boomers and post-boomers have been weaned away from adult music, but the stuff makes for a refreshing change. An occasional dose is good for us.

Neurotic Goldfish (Wilder), Alec Wilder Octet, 1938.

Sea Fugue, Mama (Wilder); Alec Wilder Octet, 1939.

Concerning Etchings (Wilder), Alec Wilder Octet, 1938.

Enjoy!

Lee

Raymond Scott in Perspective, Part 5 (Simulpost)

2005-09-22T15:39:00.000-07:00

You'll notice that I change the title of this thread every post or so. I've noticed that, too. Odd.

Anyway, in post number one, I said: "A lot of fairly outrageous claims have been made for the music of Raymond Scott. This time, we'll deal with an assertion made at RaymondScott.com: 'Regardless of what you thought of the man's technique, there was nothing like it.' That is, in spite of what some of Scott's harsher critics thought of his music back in the day, the stuff was unique."

I thought we'd deal with that assertion again. It had occurred to me that swing music, early in its evolution, had a Scott sound in terms of fast tempo and fast figurations, to name two features. Which is to say, Scott's brand of swing was decidedly not modern (ditto for Gould's and Alec Templeton's, though no one has ever claimed otherwise, to my knowledge). We present proof in the form of Red Nichols' 1930 recording of China Boy, which was most likely arranged by Glenn Miller (a swing pioneer, though I don't think he often gets the credit):

China Boy, Red Nichols and His Five Pennies, 1930. Arr: probably Glenn Miller.

Miller did most of Nichols' arrangements at this time, and it sounds very Miller-esque. So, I'm betting it was he. If I'm the first person to compare Scott to Miller, then... cool. The Internet needs an occasional original observation to shake things up a bit.

And I may be the first person to make the unbelievably obvious comparison between Scott's sound and that of Duke Ellington, a once-famous name who has apparently been forgotten in all of the Scott hype. We present Ellington's Daybreak Express of 1933, which out-Scotts Scott at every turn and in every regard (dig the "Hold that tiger" section from Tiger Rag!), and Ellington's brilliant 1937 version of Caravan, which was co-written by orchestra member Juan Tizol. You'll recall the claim that Scott had been performing exotica before it even existed. Right. Reality check coming up....

Daybreak Express (Duke Ellington), Duke Ellington and His Orch. (1933)

Caravan (Ellington-Tizol-Mills), Duke Ellington and His Orch., 1937.

If Scott's program-music miniatures, with their rapid tempos and colorful instrumental combinations, were "eccentric," then Ellington's descriptive jazz was just plain nuts. And if Scott's compositions were "idiosyncratic," then how do we explain Daybreak Express? Idiosyncratic to whom?

And while not especially Scott-esque, Bob Haggart and Ray Bauduc's 1938 bass-and-drums duet The Big Noise from Winnetka is an example of very innovative big-band-era jazz that sounds nothing like Scott. (Coincidence?) Interesting--according to Google, a number of NPR stations have played this piece in one version or another. Wow! I guess the local NPR folks occasionally run out of "World Beat" (i.e. international New Age) and are forced to resort to music. I hope no one has ever gotten fired for playing this.

The Big Noise from Winnetka (Haggart-Bauduc), Bob Haggart and Ray Bauduc (of Bob Crosby's Orchestra), 1938.

I'm not trying to turn anyone off to Raymond Scott, though, if you do feel turned off to Raymond Scott by this point, I won't feel that I've accomplished nothing. Scott Collage No. 2 is forming as we speak....

And I'd love to post a photo of The Duke, but blogger.com's photo feature is down at this time. Wah!

Lee

Fred Waring, Part 3: Two glee-club-less classics

2005-09-21T10:45:00.000-07:00

Here are two early-'40s Waring sides featuring the orchestra by itself--both are superb examples of WWII-era easy listening. We'll Always Be Apart is based on Dark Eyes, and Scheherazade is based on... Scheherazade. (That was easy.) Waring in Whiteman mode, with the kind of lavish easy this blogger lives to hear.

I have no idea, by the way, what I just typed. Anyway, here's a Ray Harrington arrangement to weep over. I mean, die over. I mean, to die for. Not likely to show up on any Happy Hits-type compilations now or in the future.

We'll Always Be Apart, Fred Waring and His Pennsylvanians, 1942. (Arr: Ray Harrington)

And here's Nikolay Rimsky-Korsakov, as skillfully scored by Harry (The Little Drummer Boy) Simeone.

Scheherazade (Rimsky-Korsakov), Fred Waring and His Pennsylvanians, 1942. (Arr: Harry Simeone)

Spell Check had a fit with this entry. Sorry, S.C....

Lee

Blues in the Night and That Old Black Magic

2005-09-15T17:45:00.000-07:00

Two Harold Arlen classics by Fred Waring and His Pennsylvanians. These are "right out of the Great American songbook" (Cliche Alert, beeeeep, beeeep), which apparently is now called the "American songbook." Nobody informed me of this change, and I'm sick of it. Of not being informed, I mean. (Um, let me rephrase that....)

I love both songs, especially Blues in the Night (My Mama Done Tol' Me). And, while the words (by Johnny Mercer) are very artfully written, I wonder why people shy away from pointing out the racist, black-dialect nature of them. I mean, really. Johnny Mercer wrote a lot of, frankly, minstrel-style lyrics that are never acknowledged as such--Lazy Bones, Rockin' Chair, I Never Has Seen Snow, and Fare Thee Well to Harlem among them. By 20th-century standards, they's not tha' much better'n some o' them ol' Stephen Foster words, ya know. Yet, who catches hell? Foster, of course, who was black-dialecting it in the 19th century, after all, and not the 20th. But that's the difference. We're too close to the American-songbook era, probably, to admit that many of the "great" tunes were lyrically in a class with Mississippi Mud.

Personally, I think we can enjoy Mercer's lyrics and the tunes that went with them while being more honest about things. Racism was alive and well in popular music until not all that long ago.

In American Popular Song, Alec Wilder notes the twelve-bar blues structure of BITN's A section but fails to note that the B section is also in that form. I've always considered it an AABA blues, with only the bridge departing from the classic twelve-bar form, but that's just me.

Let's listen to Fred Waring and His Pennsylvanians in superb contemporary performances of Harold Arlen's Blues in the Night and That Old Black Magic.

Blues in the Night (My Mama Done Tol' Me) (Arlen-Mercer), Fred Waring and His Pennsylvanians, Paul Owens, soloist, 1942.

That Old Black Magic (Arlen-Mercer), Fred Waring and His Pennsylvanians, 1944.

These remarkable arrangements were written by Roy Ringwald. I suspect that the Pennsylvanian's treatment of BITN is closer to what Arlen wanted than the treatments by, say, Benny Goodman (with Peggy Lee) and Tommy Dorsey (with Jo Stafford), both of which were, well, blusier. Keep in mind that Arlen wrote a Blues Opera Suite for middlebrow-music Maestro Andre Kostelanetz.

These were rescued from a fairly trashed LP... so, sorry about the somewhat muffled sound.
Please save, rather than open, for best results. Unless you choose to play the file at Box.net, which works well, too!

Lee

A Roots-of-Raymond-Scott simulpost.

2005-09-12T21:45:00.000-07:00

History is being made. Right now. On this very blog. My first simulpost.

The subject of this post--the roots of Raymond Scott--straddles both blogs. (That doesn't sound right....) Straddles the subjects of both. Something like that. The Scott-esque examples I have to offer are, simultaneously, Music You Possibly Won't Hear Anyplace Else material and Vintage Lounge material. So, why not simulpost them? ("Good idea, Lee.") Thanks.

Who said that??

Anyway, I thought "simulpost" was pretty clever when I thought of it, but the word is all over the Net, so I guess it didn't start with me. That would be the safest conclusion.

We start with an example of "symphonic jazz" from 1927, a clever work that belongs to the same light-concert/jazz-miniature school as Scott's stuff, only earlier. If you don't believe me, well... listen. This is Rube Bloom's Soliloquy, from 1927, performed by Paul Whiteman's Concert Orchestra:

Soliloquy (Rube Bloom), Paul Whiteman and His Concert Orchestra, 1927. From 12" Victor 78.

I'm almost sure that Ferde Grofe was the arranger, because 1) I remember reading it someplace and 2) it sure sounds like Grofe. But I can't prove it. Rube Bloom wrote pop songs like The Man from the South, Fools Rush In, and Good for Nothin' Joe, and was very highly regarded by Alec Wilder.

The brilliant, blind Welsh pianist and composer Alec Templeton used titles that were goofier and funnier than Scott's, and--judging by the following movements from his Insect Suite--wrote music not unlike Scott's. I find Templeton's music to be a more skillful blend of "serious" and popular, but that's just me. These are 1944 radio recordings by Paul Whiteman, but no telling when this stinging, biting suite was actually written.

Ode to a Bumble Bee's Bottom (Templeton), Paul Whiteman and His Orchestra, 1944.

June Bug Jive (Templeton), Paul Whiteman and His Orchestra, 1944.

The Flea Fugue (Templeton), Paul Whiteman and His Orchestra, 1944.

Again, it may just be me, but I find this material far more interesting and progressive-sounding for its time than Scott's movie-theatre-style agitatos.

Written in the early-Scott-era year of 1938, Parade of the Visiting Firemen is the closing movement of J. Clarence Chambers' "satirical suite" All American. More than a little like Erik Satie's four-hand piano works, this piece nevertheless was quite edgy for its day. According to the liner notes for Jose Iturbi and Amparo Iturbi Play Music for Two Pianos, the Iturbis recorded All American shortly after it was written. So, this may be that recording. Or it may be a later one, from 1948. If none of his is making any sense, I blame the sinus-med combo I'm taking at the moment (Sudafed and Claritin). We are, after all, in the middle of a major national Pass-the-Blame-athon.

Parade of the Visiting Firemen (A Satirical Suite for Two Pianos, J. Clarence Chambers, 1938). Jose and Amparo Itrubi, from 1948 12" 78 album on RCA Victor.

Detail overload. Must... take break. Must....

Lee

Oops--Pepsi, not Coke

2005-09-11T11:15:00.000-07:00

Goofed up again. Dad-nab-it.

"Oops...."

Hugo Winterhalter, Part 2--Apologies due

2005-09-11T10:04:00.000-07:00

I've got two apologies to make here. The first "apology" is to the folks at Beyond the Roots of Lounge, whom I criticized for their let's-head-for-the-bars response to the Katrina tragedy. Little could anyone know that their posts were prescient: the mayor of New Orleans just announced that he is sending 60 percent of his police force to Las Vegas for rest and recuperation. "Asked if it was appropriate to party in these circumstances, he responded: 'New Orleans is a party town. Get over it.'" (Source: Charles Krauthammer.) Mayor Nagin, meet BTROL. BTROL, meet Mayor Nagin. You two are one of a mind.

(Spell Check doesn't recognize "prescient." And I thought I were illiterate.)

My second apology (no quotes) is for promising to present Hugo Winterhalter sides that anticipate the sound of Ray Conniff's singers by six or seven years. This is embarrassing, but I was really thinking of Norman Luboff and/or Ray Charles (not the Coca Cola spokesman). How to explain?

You see, I never listened much to Conniff's late-'50s "bop-da-bah" stuff--it must not have ever interested me. So, my knowledge of Conniff comes from his 1970s LPs (his version of My Sweet Lord, for example) and from the backgrounds he provided for Columbia singers in the 1950s. And it's hard to tell those things apart, sometimes--I thought Conniff had backed Desi Arnaz on the 1953 I Love Lucy, for example, but it was Norman Luboff. To make a long and sad story short, I had confused Conniff's sound with that of Luboff and Ray Charles (not the Coca Cola spokesinger). Oops.

I suppose I could go back and delete a couple sentences from my Winterhalter post, but that would be dishonest. Plus, someone would probably spot it.

To err is human. To lie about it is neo-con. So... I screwed up. My Lounge Historian permit is in an envelope, ready to go back to the Lounge Historian Home Study Course® headquarters. I'll never live this down.

Anyway, here are two excellent examples of the Winterhalter chorus sound, which anticipated the NORMAN LUBOFF CHOIR and RAY CHARLES SINGERS sound(s) of a few years later. Note that I said nothing about Ray Conniff. In fact, I never, at any time, made any connection between 9/11 and Columbia vocal backings. If anyone did, it was an underling. Who will be chewed out and punished with a promotion.

Blueberry Hill, Hugo Winterhalter Orchestra and Chorus, 1949 or 1950. Dedicated to Fats, who, thank God, was found alive.

I'll See You in My Dreams (Isham Jones), Hugo Winterhalter Orchestra and Chorus, 1951. By the greatest pop songwriter ever, and you may quote me.

I'm one of the probably few people (in my generation, at least) who loves the Winterhalter/Luboff sound. Statistically speaking, anyway. It was the choral sound that changed pop music, whereas Conniff's "bop-bah-dah" sound, however entertaining, lead nowhere in an evolutionary sense. Yet, which of the two gets all of the press? The one that lounge/space-age/exotica historians find to their liking, not the one that made infinitely more difference in the scheme of things. And what else is new....

Lee

The Utter Limits

2005-09-09T18:16:00.000-07:00

I hope that my Scott Collage was interesting and even eye-opening. (Ear-opening?) Of course, it was made in response to the epidemic of over-the-top praise for Raymond Scott--who was talented, yes, but not the 20th century's answer to Mozart, sorry. Then again, as an e-friend just pointed out to me, Scott did not manufacture his own legend--rather, his fans are responsible. And select journalists. My collage was especially dedicated to those two demographics.

I love that word--"demographics." Not to sound like that rant-aholic NPR linguist, Geoff Whatsishame, but nowadays we replace normal words with official-sounding ones that don't really apply directly to the subject, and just for the sake of sounding official. I doubt that "demographic" is really a replacement for "group." Any more than "learning curve" is a replacement for "learning."

And, sure enough, my dictionary identifies "demographic" as an adjective, not a noun: "Of or pertaining to demography." Not that the average bureaucrat even knows what a dictionary is. In other words, if "demographic" is even a noun, it didn't become one until recently, AND because of idiots who don't know how to use words. I can't think of a better or more noble reason for our language to change.

I should point out that my dictionary is not current. If it were, "demographic" would be in there as a noun. I just know it. Facing it is another matter.

Well, I've had my little tizzy episode. And I feel better. Me, me, me. People say, "It's all about you, isn't it?" and I say, "Now you're catching on!" Then I run for my life.

My favorite business-memo misuse of English is "commensurate with," allegedly meaning "in accordance with." I once asked someone if "commensurate with the guidelines" means that we're supposed to shrink ourselves to the size of our computer screen. To be commensurate with the guidelines. I don't remember what she said.

And we had a higher-up who talked about "learnings." As in, things he had learned. "I had some really good learnings at the meeting, Jim!" "Great. Now maybe you can learn some basic grammar!"

At Beyond the Roots of Lounge, the topic is drinking. As in, drinking a lot. Heigh-ohhhhh!!!! Judging by the punctuation in the following sentence, I think those folks are well on the way: "We could use some levity...and a nice stiff one...right about now, couldn't you?"

Speaking of beyond, it's beyond me how anyone could write something like that. It really is.

Meanwhile, the White House is trying to recreate the past. In their version of Katrina Week One, George W. Bush was on the phone to Louisiana the night before the event, begging the governor to please, please get an emergency evacuation going. This act of leadership must have drained him, because it was, what? Four more days before he went to N.O.? And two more days after that until he had the sense to stop cracking jokes in front of flattened homes?

This is the guy who was begging Louisiana to please evacuate. To quote Daffy Duck, "Ahhhhhhhhh... yeah."

Lee

Scott Collage No. 1

2005-09-06T20:01:00.000-07:00

A Raymond Scott sound "collage," that is. A collage made up of cross-faded sound clips, all of them Scott-esque but none of them (Irony Alert) by Scott. Most were recorded prior to Scott's quintet recordings, save for one (and, possibly, two--I have yet to establish the year for an Alec Templeton clip).

Scott, of course, was "One of The Most Influential Musicians of The 20th Century," at least according to the yellow sticker on the CD case of Reckless Nights and Turkish Twilights, a remastered version of a 1992 Scott quintet comp. To the right of the yellow sticker is a blue paste-on with red lettering that reads, "Best Value." So, maybe Scott was a best value, as well as one of the most influential musicians of the 20th century. We can't be sure.

Actually, I should be typing stuff like, "If you don't know who Raymond Scott is, you've been living on (name of other planet)." If I wanted to be like everyone else. However, I know people on Earth who haven't heard of the guy, so I won't say that. Anyway, Scott was a writer of "descriptive jazz" that sounded uncannily like much of the other light concert stuff that composers like Ferde Grofe, Alec Templeton, Morton Gould, and Duke Ellington were producing. You probably won't hear that anywhere else, because the extollers of Scott, as a rule, spend little time on musical perspective, preferring instead to focus on who-did-and-said-what details. It's a common music-journalism ploy: claim special, unique status for someone's art, then spend the rest of one's essay focusing on the artist and his work and nothing but. Such an approach creates the illusion that a point has been made and supported, when, in fact, nothing has been proven. Asserted, yes, but not proven.

I refer not to the idea that Scott was a great composer--this is an opinion, after all, and therefore neither true nor false. However, the assertion that Scott's quintet music was utterly unlike anyone else's is quite specific, in that it is either historically accurate or historically incorrect. Scott Collage No. 1 should aid us in testing that claim:

Scott Collage No. 1 (Cross-faded sound clips dating from the early 1920s to circa 1940.)

More Scott-related posts at my Music You (Possibly) Won't Hear Anyplace Else blog, including a sound file of Morton Gould's 1938 piano novelty, Deserted Ballroom.

Lee

The Roots of Ferrante and Teicher, Part 4: The Neurotic Goldfish

2005-09-02T07:40:00.000-07:00

I hope the folks at the hip-a-roony hepster haven Beyond the Roots of Lounge™ are O.K.--they haven't posted a peep since their eight-line "beyond: retro" offering of a few days ago. We hope that no harm has befallen them.

Of course, here at Vintage Lounge, we don't care about hep. We care about music. But we're kind of odd that way. Imagine--the music coming first. So un-lounge-like.

And today's music has been provided by Arthur Whittemore and Jack Lowe, duo-pianists who were tearing up their keyboards in 1960 Ferrante-and-Teicher fashion as early as 1944. The selections are Alec Wilder's 1938 miniature, The Neurotic Goldfish, and Nacio Herb Brown and Arthur Freed's 1933 Misirlou-style classic, Temptation (a massive hit for Perry Como in 1945).

http://box.net/public/lee/files/619448.html The Neurotic Goldfish (Alec Wilder, arr. by Whittemore and Lowe), Arthur Whittemore and Jack Lowe, duo-pianists, 1944 (from Victor 78).

http://box.net/public/lee/files/619852.html Temptation (Freed-Brown, arr. by Whittemore and Lowe), Arthur Whittemore and Jack Lowe, duo-pianists, 1944 (from Victor 78).

Lee

Big, lush, Sixties-style easy listening--from 1946

2005-08-28T15:27:00.000-07:00

So, we just have to be talking about Morton Gould, right? Right. Gould, we recall, is the American composer and mood-music Maestro who first recorded his spectacular 1961 "Living Stereo" arrangement of Beyond the Blue Horizon in the year 1947--long before stereo, living or otherwise, and one year before vinyl. He rerecorded the arrangement for RCA in 1955, adding some musical train effects (using musical trains), and this recording, in turn, was reissued in rather thinnish stereo for the Beyond the Blue Horizon LP. I was surprised and delighted to discover the earlier recording.

And I'm delighted to have discovered two more pre-vinyl Gould arrangements that sound way ahead of their time, not only in terms of their sophisticated scoring, but also sound-wise. You'd swear that fidelity this good couldn't have existed prior to, oh, 1956. But the year was 1946.

(Was that a gasp or a yawn I heard?) Anyway, nothing to yawn about in this first number, which just might be my favorite Gould arrangement of all. It's a little too early to tell.

http://box.net/public/lee/files/569675.html Brazil (Barroso), Morton Gould and His Orchestra, from South of the Border album, 1946.

El Rancho Grande is less spectacular, and less vintage-Exotica, but it's still very interesting as pre-lounge lounge. The orchestration is terrific: half-"Pops," half-elevator. I wish I could think of a pun for that. (An elder-vator? No, no....)

http://box.net/public/lee/files/585330.html El Rancho Grande (Ramos), Morton Gould and His Orchestra, from South of the Border album, 1946.

Please save, rather than open, files for best results. Thanks!

Lee

Hugo Winterhalter's "Hesitation," fixed!

2005-08-23T12:53:00.000-07:00

Many thanks to Stephen for pointing out that the Hugo Winterhalter Hesitation file clocked in at 4:59, which accounted for a lot of silent time. Here's the same file, fixed (I also placed this in the original post):

http://box.net/public/lee/files/523127.html Hesitation (Winterhalter), Hugo Winterhalter's Orchestra and Chorus, 1952.

My editing software, MAGIX, allows me to choose the start and stop points for each file. Of course, it allows gives me the chance to goof them up. Sorry about that!

And, while we're on the subject of big-band Winterhalter AND the whole-tone scale (which shows up all over the place in Hesitation), here's Winterhalter's utterly unsubtle and utterly fun arrangement of Beyond the Blue Horizon, from 1951. Again, we have a Conniff-style vocal chorus and much blending of voices with instruments:

http://box.net/public/lee/files/497711.html Beyond the Blue Horizon, Hugo Winterhalter's Orchestra and Chorus, 1951.

Enjoy!

Lee

"Sea-sick swellings and diminishings"

2005-08-22T09:36:00.000-07:00

Before I tell the fascinating history of the Hammond Novachord, let me share a "comment" I received in May from someone named "konbinisan," for those of you who didn't get to read it:

"The site The Roots of Lounge (www.gonix.com/rol), now also known as Beyond The Roots of Lounge, has been using the phrase 'Roots of Lounge' as a trademark since 1996." Kind of puts the "short" in "short and sweet."

It seems that, at the time, my URL included "rootsoflounge."™ That's right--my URL. Followed by "blogger.com." No doubt, "konbinisan" didn't want anyone ending up here instead of there, and I can understand his or her concern. I mean, who would want to end up here? So, of course, I changed my URL. I'm a nice fellow.

Now, I consider a post like the post in question to be anonymous. I mean, so what if someone uses a "name," if it isn't the person's real name? And something just tells me "konbinisan" is an assumed name. ("nasinibnok," backwards.) A fake name, no profile, no way to write back--that's anonymous, in my book. And everything I just said is trademarked, so don't be stealing my definition of "anonymous."™ My lawyers are standing by. I know, because I hear the meter ticking.

Anyway, last night I went to Roots of Lounge™ and read that site's "About This Site." Seems that there's been a problem with people stealing content from the site and that ROL™, though it hates to be "all Type A about it," had to take serious measures. Such as leaving that note at my blog.

No offense to ROL™, but, to be perfectly direct, the day I need to steal something from that place is the day that, hopefully, someone shoots me in the head.

The Hammond Novachord (see http://www.obsolete.com/120_years/machines/novachord/) was not a big success. It wasn't even a small success, even if the thing weighed 1/4 of a ton. But, according to many sources, it was the first synthesizer ever made, and it helped inspire Robert Moog to create the sounds he created. The Novachord was introduced at the 1939 World's Fair by Collins H. Driggs, American composer Ferde Grofe (Grand Canyon Suite, Metropolis, Death Valley Suite, the pop song Daybreak), and two other "Novachord Orchestra" members. Speaking of American composers, Elliot Carter stopped by the Ford Building while the NO was demonstrating Hammond's new synthesizer, and he was delighted:

"At the Ford building, I found... Ferde Grofe and three others at three Hammond Novachords and a Hammond organ, playing plushy arrangements of Old Folks at Home, and so on, with arpeggios, and sea-sick swellings and diminishings. They show just what the Novachord can do, how inhuman its breathless flutes and gutless violins can be."

Carter was down on "electrified music" in general, so it was inevitable he'd love and cherish the Novachord, which sounded like a video-game soundtrack stuck in "Pause." But I love the sound, even if, in addition to what I just described, it evoked a giant, mutant bee dying inside of a paper cone. It reminds me of the "piano" patch on my Korg Poly-800, for what that's worth (about $200 on eBay, I found out).

And here are four 1940 numbers by Novachord-introducer Collins H. Driggs, all from shellac. I have to wonder if When Day Is Done was arranged by Grofe, as it closely follows Grofe's 1927 arrangement for the Paul Whiteman Concert Orchestra™:

http://box.net/public/lee/files/500488.html When Day Is Done, Collins H. Driggs, Novachord solo, 1940.

http://box.net/public/lee/files/504348.html Estudiantina (Emil Waldteufel, 1883), Collins H. Driggs, Novachord solo, 1940. (From the French composer who gave us the waltz The Skaters.)

http://box.net/public/lee/files/504481.html Parade of the Wooden Soldiers, Collins H. Driggs, Novachord solo, 1940.

http://box.net/public/lee/files/504712.html Song of the Islands, Collins H. Driggs, Novachord solo, 1940.

Yup--lounge-style Hammond Novachord solos from 1940. Keep telling yourself that lounge music started in the early 1950s. Say it, again and again. ("It, again and again.") No, no, no....

Lee

No sound files; just me

2005-08-21T11:35:00.000-07:00

So, it's Sunday afternoon, and I'm waiting for the last of the Collins H. Driggs 1940 Novachord recordings to upload to boxnet.com, the storage site I use--a site which has been performing very well in recent weeks, I should note. Box.net seems to have done an admirable job of cyber-pest-control, getting rid of (hopefully) all of its bugs--or at least the ones that have been biting my Dell. Of course, I've just jinxed the heck out of myself by typing that. Never directly acknowledge good luck--never. And never admit that you're superstitious. This is the 21st century, after all. Life has never been more modern. We live in an age of animal-cloning, planet-surface radar-mapping, electronic vote-"counting," and high-resolution satellite-image-taking from space. And, if President Bush has his way, our classrooms will soon have Intelligent-Design-teaching alongside that stupid evolution stuff. In time, I hope to introduce my theory of Stupid Design (SD) into public classrooms. SD explains, among other things, how politicians like Bush and Ohio governor Taft manage to pop up in our species despite millennia of otherwise additive human evolution.

Wow. "Additive evolution"--a term I made up--seems to be an actual scientific term. Cool. Me, I mean.

Sometimes things get to me too much. On my MYPWHAE and Fields on Fire blogs, I've been dealing with the issue of gospel-song authorship, which mostly involves finding out who really wrote the sacred country tunes attributed to A.P. Carter. Apparently, there's this notion that Carter and/or the Victor label were careful about their borrowings, i.e. that they chose either copyright-expired material or material that never had a copyright. Right. Keep on the Firing Line was a fairly new song when the Carters swiped it. Will My Mother Know Me There? wasn't as new, but it still had its copyright. As did Will the Circle Be Unbroken. So, no, they weren't careful at all.

Which doesn't bother me. What the Carters stole, or didn't steal, 75 years ago is not the issue. The issue is that, as many years later, Keep on the Firing Line is still treated as a Carter Family song. Isn't three-quarters of a century too much time for the record to still be uncorrected? (By and by, or otherwise?)

Authorship is sure an important issue when it comes to rock or pop standards, though. Something tells me that Stairway to Heaven was not attributed to Dolly Parton when she recorded her version of it. And I doubt that Night and Day or Witchcraft were copyrighted by Frank Sinatra at any point.

But what about the artistic possibilities of good jazz? That's what Raymond Scott wrote about in the July, 1943 issue of Etude--I found Scott's piece while skimming through my copy of same the other day. "Deep" is not a word I'd use to describe the essay, and "in check" is not a word I'd use to describe Scott's ego. Etude introduced him as "one of the most vital figures in present-day popular music," which is interesting, because it means that all the folks touting Scott as the one of the great composers of the 20th century are in symphony with the editor of Etude some 60 years ago. I love it. The more things change....

I've owned Scott records (78s, mainly) over the years, but no one ever informed me that he was the last century's Mozart, and, apparently possessing tin ears, I heard nothing remarkable in his compositions. I must not have, anyway, because his sides are no longer in my collection. My reaction to Scott is summed up by an article featured at the Raymond Scott website--a 1939 Metronome piece, maybe? (can't remember)--which complains that all of the guy's stuff sounds the same, its avant garde reputation notwithstanding. What's interesting is that the present praise for Raymond seems to be little different from the press he was getting in his day. A cynic might suggest it's even an extension thereof. But I'm no cynic. (Ahem.)

This is where Scott and Elvis Presley have a lot in common. The explanations for their greatness seem to have been conceived right off the bat, then typed out and stuffed into envelopes marked "Open in the Event of Posterity." You know all the stuff about Elvis combining country and blues and creating a new form of music? Sam Phillips wrote that script at Sun, possibly before he'd even found his R&B-singing truck driver. Look magazine, in 1956, attributed rock and roll to "Negroes," which was both astute and correct. This was the commonly-accepted view. I suspect Phillips' tale would have been greeted by attendants in white coats.

Then, sometime during the 1970s, rock journalists picked up Phillips' crank r&r-genesis story and decided it would sell more magazine copies than the boring truth, and, in time, Sam's account became the official history. And, so, we celebrated rock and roll's "50th anniversary" last year. And Sun Studios probably had tourists lined up around the block. I wonder if Sam was watching this through his Heavenly telescope and having a good laugh? (Actually, Heaven has probably progressed to digital satellite images by now.)

Back to Scott, I'm not sure I can ever listen objectively to his music. Media hype is a powerful, and often negative, force. This is because the media has the power to make hype real. There's no burden of proof--an assertion, by itself, is sufficient. Sinatra is great, for example. Why? Well, because he was. Bob Dylan's lyrics are "important." Why? Because they are. We're supposed to think that some consensus, popular or otherwise, has been reached. Keep in mind, however, that no such process is necessary for an idea, any idea, to qualify for a plug on Fresh Air or at WMFU, or at any of the other cool-culture dispensing stations.

Yes, these things are very subjective. Good and bad aren't carved in stone. You say "tomato," and I say "lettuce." But ideas and notions must be allowed to evolve naturally, to sink or swim in the environment of other ideas and notions. Media hype allows the hyperbolically-fittest themes to survive unopposed; if it plays, it stays. A history of popular music based on, and around, hype is a shallow and narrow history whose highlights may or may not reflect the actual high points of evolution. As for the actual events--forget it. We can't even get the right credits for good old gospel songs that were published in the millions of copies. A hundred years from now, maybe websites will be attributing the entire Great American Songbook to Tony Bennett. (And he can have it, says my cat, Pery, who is no fan of that book.)

Lee

A record hokier than Fred Waring's "Trees"

2005-08-17T22:18:00.000-07:00

Is there one? Probably, but my brain doesn't want to go there. As if Alfred Joyce Kilmer's poem weren't maudlin enough, Fred and his arrangers (Roy Ringwald and Hawley Ades, in this case) decided to turn the camp meter up to 11 for this 1947 recording--and I think I know why. If my guess is correct, this is the very Trees recording that Waring provided for the 1948 Disney cartoon short, Melody Time. That would explain the over-the-topness (even by Waring choral standards) of the presentation, as well as the compressed, flat sound that isn't at all typical of Decca in the late 1940s. First-rate musicianship combined with first-rank camp--Trees, from 1947.

http://box.net/public/lee/files/447707.html Trees (Rasbach-Kilmer), Fred Waring and His Pennsylvanians, soloist: Gordon Goodman, 1947.

Alfred Joyce Kilmer (above), who wrote Trees in 1913. Kilmer was killed in France during WWI.

When something's too campy for me, you know it's time to worry. But Waring's Decca sides weren't quite so far out, as a rule. And his earlier attempts at a glee club/choral sound were much more restrained. Here are two of them, starting with 1928's Who's Blue Now? a side graced by a remarkable vocal arrangement and brief but fine moments of Waring-style jazz:

http://box.net/public/lee/files/447250.html Who's Blue Now? (Caesar-Meyer), Waring's Pennsylvanians, 1928.

Three years later, Waring's choral-sound-to-be nearly was. Here is 1931's Dancing in the Dark, featuring the Three Waring Girls and various band members:

http://box.net/public/lee/files/447002.html Dancing in the Dark (Dietz-Schwartz), Waring's Pennsyvlanians, featuring the Three Waring Girls, 1928.

Please save, rather than open, files for best results. Thanks!

Lee

Genuine, bona fide faux-Twenties/ragtime

2005-08-12T22:32:00.000-07:00

And I thought the Twenties/ragtime revival started in 1947 with Art Mooney's I'm Looking Over a Four-Leaf Clover, followed closely by Pee Wee Hunt's 1948 Twelfth Street Rag. Boy, was I wrong--it happened much earlier. Here, to prove it, are three bona fide faux-Twenties/ragtime sides by Frankie Carle (pianist for Horace Heidt, bandleader, solo artist, and writer of Sunrise Serenade) recorded in 1940 and 1946. The man could play the piano!

http://box.net/public/lee/files/385745.html Twelfth Street Rag (Euday Bowman), Frankie Carle, 1940.

http://box.net/public/lee/files/448700.html Stumbling (Zez Confrey), Frankie Carle, 1940.

http://box.net/public/lee/files/448910.html I Want a Girl (William Dillon-Harry Von Tilzer), Frankie Carle, 1946.

For years, I've ignored Carle's LPs (which, of course, turn up by the score in thrift bins), never realizing what great sounds they contain. Now we know.

Lee

Big-band lounge by Hugo

2005-08-07T11:23:00.000-07:00

Much postwar pop was in a big-band mode, so I've always regarded Hugo Winterhalter's swingier Columbia and RCA sides to be par for the bandstand. But we live in an age of micro-labeling everything, so let's call Winterhalter's more big-band lounge sides "big-band lounge." The larger category would be "postwar Winterhalter." Specifically, postwar Winterhalter with a prewar edge. Which would make a good novelty song-title.

Hugo, of course, had written pre-postwar big band arrangements for Jack Jenney, Claude Thornhill, Benny Goodman, and Count Basie, among others. After the war, he worked at MGM and Columbia, before spending thirteen years at RCA. His biggest Columbia hit was Jealous Heart, possibly the example of big-band lounge:

http://box.net/public/lee/files/385738.html Jealous Heart, Hugo Winterhalter and His Orchestra and Chorus, 1949.

It's possible I typed too soon. The more I think about it, maybe the ultimate example of big-band lounge is Hugo's 1952 Hesitation, recorded for RCA. Let's pause to give it a listen:

http://box.net/public/lee/files/523127.html Hesitation (Winterhalter), Hugo Winterhalter and His Orchestra, 1952.

Arranger Ray Conniff always gets the credit for treating human voices as part of the instrumental mix, but it sounds to me as if that's exactly what Hugo is doing on these two sides. Just my ears, maybe. Certainly, we could be forgiven for thinking that we're hearing the Ray Conniff Singers eight years before they officially debuted on vinyl. More of the Conniff-esque Hugo Winterhalter Singers to come....

Please save, rather than open, files for best results. Thanks!

Lee

The Roots of Ferrante and Teicher, Part 3

2005-08-04T11:33:00.000-07:00

Who were the most popular virtuoso duo-pianists of the pre-Ferrante-and-Teicher period? That's a tough question, and one that's raised at least once every twenty years. Virginia and Livingston, I presume. At least, that's my guess. I refer to Virginia Morley and Livingston Gearhart, the duo-pianists featured by Fred Waring during the 1940s and early 1950s. Also, of course, I wanted an excuse to type "Livingston, I presume."

Gearhart wrote the duo's four-hand arrangements of Brahms, Strauss, Ravel, Chopin, and assorted Broadway composers. In fact, he wrote a number of original works that, judging by their titles, were from the Alec Wilder/Ferde Grofe/Raymond Scott/Alec Templeton American school of light music. Out of that whole group (which included many more than those listed), Scott has gotten all of the attention, mainly owing to the perpetuum-mobile thump-thump of his compositions, a quality pleasing to rock-conditioned ears, and maybe even a needed aural fix, in many instances, for same. I suspect that Gearhart favored the more involved theme-and-variation approach of Grofe or Templeton, but that's just a guess.

Actually, the finale from George Gershwin's Concerto in F--which we're about to hear--contains plenty of riffs and four-to-the bar thumping, but with a decidedly un-Scott-like diversity of texture. The track comes from the LP digitally-pictured above, a faux-stereo reissue whose best and most over-the-top selection, Trees, was cut down by awful re-engineering. The Concerto finale, however, sounds just fine in reduced-fake-stereo form (though please note that the lousy edit midway was not my doing; it came with the reissue). A brilliant arrangement and brilliant pianism from Morley and Gearhart's last year with Waring, 1954--the year that Virginia divorced Livingston and became Virginia Waring.

http://box.net/public/lee/files/385768.html Concerto in F (Finale, Gershwin), Virginia Morley and Livingston Gearhart, 1954.

Please save, rather than open, file for best results. Thanks!

(Hm. Spell Check wants me to replace "Waring" with "Warring." I'd read that Fred could be hard to get along with sometimes, but that seems unkind.)

Lee

"Twelfth Street Rag" and "Sheik of Araby," 1948-style

2005-07-29T16:34:00.000-07:00

For the moment, box.net is go! I've discovered that, if I migrate at the rate of one file per upload, all is well. Let's hope it remains so. Slow is better than grounded, any day.

Euday L. Bowman's 1914 Twelfth Street Rag was memorably recorded by Ted Lewis in 1923 Frankie Carle in 1940, and Pee Wee Hunt in 1948. Hunt's version, a huge hit, was rendered in a fake-Twenties style very familiar to late-1940s listeners, thanks in part to musical pranksters like Spike Jones and the Hoosier Hot Shots. When retro becomes retro, drastic measures are called for. And drastic meter changes. Which might explain Morton Gould's own 1948 rendition of the rag, which veers between wild and wilder in its approach.

http://box.net/public/lee/files/328643.html Twelfth Street Rag, Morton Gould and His Orchestra, 1948 (from the Columbia EP set Do You Remember?)

From the same set, we have Morton Gould's comparatively subdued but still lavish treatment of the 1921 hit, The Sheik of Araby. The arrangement features some highly Exotica moments that settle into quieter, subtler grooves. Not for the thrill-seeking listener, therefore, but it's a fine, mellow chart from a master orchestrator to whom the most elegant kind of easy came easily.

http://box.net/public/lee/files/337320.html The Sheik of Araby, Morton Gould and His Orchestra, 1948 (from same EP set as above). No Club-Royal-style slide whistle in this arrangement!

Please save, rather than open, files for best results. Thanks!

Lee

Endless problems with storage may mean closing of blog

2005-07-28T09:53:00.000-07:00

The last thing I want to do is shut down Vintage Lounge, but my storage service, box.net, has been nothing but problems from the time I signed onto it. The latest situation has been a 24-long affair (and counting)--six attempts to upload two mp3 files have all ended in failure. Box.net advised me to delete all of my Cookies. I did, and to no avail. Now I'm a stranger at my regular Internet stops. Wonderful.

I'm so tired of dealing with these problems that I'm on the verge of calling it quits. However, I don't want to make such a decision in haste--and especially not when I'm upset. Starting over with a new storage service will mean losing all of the mp3 posts to date, and how do I know I won't have the same problems elsewhere? It would be sad to have my blog finished off by storage issues, but a music blog without music isn't a music blog.

I'll give this some time and thought. It's "Time-Out" time. My sincere apologies if anyone is having problems with downloading files. Hopefully, it's only an uploading issue. (I hate the word "issue," but it's become part of the language.)

Lee, hoping he can remain

The roots of easy, Part 2

2005-07-23T23:34:00.000-07:00

Premiering in 1923, The Eveready Hour, according to a number of websites, was the first sponsored radio program. The ultra-light light music presented on the show was easy-listening in the making, if these two studio recordings by the Eveready Hour Group (directed by Nat Shilkret) are any indication.

1927 wasn't a good year for Victor label surfaces, unless by "good" one means "filled with annoying hiss." But it's the music that matters--and this is interesting stuff, considering the fact that we associate such sounds with a much later period. Down South (American Sketch), written in 1901 by British composer William H. Myddleton, is vintage mood music, and the choral rendition of Dvorak's Goin' Home, even moreso. Imagine that the surface hiss is 1927 static. (Too bad it's not; this disc would be worth a few bucks as a 1920s aircheck....)

http://box.net/public/lee/files/247548.html Down South (American Sketch) (William H. Myddleton), Eveready Hour Group, dir. by Nat Shilkret (1927).

http://box.net/public/lee/files/247560.html Goin' Home (Dvorak, Fisher), Eveready Hour Group, dir. by Nat Shilkret (1927).

Please save, rather than open, files for best results. Thanks!

Lee

The roots of Ferrante and Teicher, part 2

2005-07-16T21:41:00.000-07:00

Well, I promised to find some more roots of Ferrante and Teicher, i.e. pre-1952 records by virtuoso, Classically-trained duo-pianists playing "pop" titles. A search at my favorite Columbus used record store, Colleen's Collectibles, turned up nothing, but only because I didn't know who I was looking for. (Colleen, having guided me to the piano section: "Who are you looking for?" Me: "I'm not sure.") Turns out I should have been seeking Whittemore and Lowe, as well as Morley and Gearhart, two piano-playing teams who helped pave the way for Art and Lou, even if they didn't stick foreign objects behind the strings or mess with the hammers.

These folks I will be looking for in the thrift bins. Or at Colleen's, when next I visit. This isn't exactly stuff that flies off the shelves, unless the poltergeists get bored.

There were, of course, more purely pop pianists who zipped up and down the keyboard in a quest to impress people. Some were very good--Carmen Cavallaro, for example. Others were not, such as Eddy Duchin. And Jan August, whom we are about to hear in an embarrassing rendition of Zez Confrey's Dizzy Fingers. Of all the Confrey pieces for an arpeggio-faker not to take on, Dizzy Fingers is probably the one. Whose idea was this?

But try to ignore August's flub-athon and listen, instead, to the multiple-echo effect, a gimmick which makes the track sound very much like early, prepared-piano Ferrante and Teicher:

http://box.net/public/lee/files/108156.html Dizzy Fingers, Jan August, 1951.

Missed notes aside, this is very "futuristic"-sounding lounge for 1951. Very F&T.

Lee

A Royale pain: great music, lousy fidelity

2005-07-13T19:57:00.000-07:00

When I found a near-mint copy of Percy Faith on Royale (in EP form), I felt very lucky--until I listened to the thing. Much high-frequency "scritch" in the louder passages, and no way to eliminate it completely without muffling the sound. I did manage to make decent files of the first two tracks, but the remaining pair were hopeless. So, I'm only able to present half of Royale EP 119, though half a vintage-lounge masterpiece is better than none:

http://box.net/public/lee/files/278955.html Begin the Beguine, 1947. Orig. released on Majestic.

http://box.net/public/lee/files/278954.html Dancing in the Dark, 1947. Originally released on Majestic.

I managed to keep the "scritch" at a minimum, and the results are more than bearable, sonically. These superb arrangements are positively Satanic by the standards of Rock, the religion of which forbids strings and flutes in its churches. Faith works wonders with both, wondrously working them into the symphonic mix--scritch or no scritch.

(Please save, rather than open, files for best results. Thanks!)

Lee

Andre Kostelanetz Presents: Chant of the Weed

2005-07-08T22:35:00.000-07:00

From 1936, Andre Kostelanetz and His Orchestra with a terrific version of Don Redman's Chant of the Weed. This is symphonic dance band music in the style of Paul Whiteman, only lacking that leader's unfailing smoothness. The arrangement works, anyway, thanks to cartoon-style choral spookiness and loud, aggressive brass whose remarkable precision makes up for whatever it lacks in swing feel. The song's haunted-house chord--a dominant-seventh with a flattened fifth--pretty much calls out for clunky playing, anyway. (Or creates it!)

http://box.net/public/lee/files/246998.html Chant of the Weed, Andre Kostelanetz Presents, 1936. (From 12" 78)

And, the flip side--an energetic, get-out-of-your-seat vintage-lounge medley called Rumba Fantasy. Three years later, Kosty would be recording with more strings and (much) more echo. In fact, there doesn't seem to be any echo at all on these two numbers. Maybe RCA's budget, at the time, didn't allow for any....

http://box.net/public/lee/files/246997.html Rumba Fantasy, Andre Kostelanetz Presents, 1936. (From 12" 78)

Enjoy!

Lee

Elevator to the Moon

2005-07-06T11:39:00.000-07:00

Masterful pop-Impressionism from (and by) Mantovani--this is Monty's own Poem to the Moon, from 1948. The orchestration reminds us of Claude Debussy, whereas the modal minimalism reminds us of Erik Satie. ("Us" meaning me, myself, and I.)

Monty's Poem starts in Mixolydian mode with a suspended cadence, i.e. a minor seventh chord on V, with the tonic sounding on the bottom. Eventually, the harmony descends in steps not consistent with Mixolydian mode, just to throw our ears for a gentle loop. Monty does a great deal with very little, all the while creating a number of mood swings--most notably, the dramatic, minor-mode re-re-restatement of the main theme. Here's your chance to crank up Mantovani, though you'll have to wait for the moment.... (Be sure to yell, "MONTY!!!!! WOOOO!!")

http://box.net/public/lee/files/251172.html Poem to the Moon (Mantovani), Mantovani and His Concert Orch., 1948. (From 12" London 78)

Please save, rather than open, file for best results. Thanks!

Lee

Independence Day with F&T and the Decca Band

2005-07-03T21:26:00.000-07:00

From the album Hi-Fireworks , no less, comes our first Fourth of July selection: Susanna's Last Stand, recorded in 1953 by duo-pianists Ferrante and Teicher.

http://box.net/public/lee/files/252234.html Susanna's Last Stand, Ferrante and Teicher, 1953.

From 1949, here's the Decca Orchestra belting out Henry J. Sayers' 1891 classic, Ta-ra-ra-Boom-der-e, which we used to sing as Ta-ra-ra-Boomsee-ay (They Took My Pants Away). This comes from the 10" LP Concert in the Park, on Decca DL 5079.

http://box.net/public/lee/files/252628.html Ta-ra-ra-Boom-der-e, Decca Orchestra, 1949.

And here's Meredith Willson and His Concert Orchestra, performing the heck out of Ferde Grofe's March for Americans. Ripped from a great-sounding 1941 Decca 78 of the 12" variety. A repeat offering, but why not? This is too good to offer only once.

http://box.net/public/lee/files/152427.html March for Americans (Grofe), Meredith Willson and His Concert Orch., 1941.

For best results, please save (rather than copy) files. Thanks!

Lee

From the composer of "The Hot Canary"--"Beverly Hill Billy"

2005-07-02T18:35:00.000-07:00

My copy of Beverly Hill Billy showed up by itself in a thrift store--no sign of the other three 45s, or the box. It originally belonged to a set called Nero Fiddles! featuring Paul Nero and His Entourage. Nero (1917-1958), best-known for his hit composition The Hot Canary, seems to be highly regarded in jazz-violin circles. Beverly Hill Billy is a Nero original, too:

http://box.net/public/lee/files/251179.html Paul Nero and His Entourage (1950). From Capitol 45 RPM EP.

It sounds to my ears as if Nero is quoting several "old-time" tunes, especially during the mellow middle section. Seeing Nellie Home, maybe. Barbara Allen, on the celeste (?). But I'm not familiar enough with these tunes to know for sure. Dig the obligatory boogie section at the end, probably intended for humor. Of course, while Nero fiddled, Rag Mop was burning up the charts. Mop was the kind of simple and unadorned twelve-bar blues that jazz musicians had a hard time taking seriously. They hadn't heard nothin' yet!

For those not familiar with The Hot Canary (such as I wasn't until a few months ago), here is Florian Zabach, from 1951:

http://box.net/public/lee/files/251252.html The Hot Canary (Paul Nero), Florian Zabach, 1951. From Decca 45 RPM EP.

Hope you enjoyed this lively jazz-lounge. Or is it lounge-jazz? Novelty lounge-jazz, maybe. Novelty violin jazz-lounge. Novelty violin-led small-group jazz pre-hi-fi.... Oh, never mind.

Lee

The roots of Ferrante and Teicher

2005-06-29T20:15:00.000-07:00

Everybody's favorite duo-pianists, Ferrante and Teicher, weren't the first concert pianists of awesome technique to record novelty numbers and/or arrangements. I know, because I have located one (1) example of what I'm talking about--Jose and Amparo Iturbi's 1948 Three Blind Mice, as arranged by Jose Iturbi and George Stoll. The piece is in two sections: a Waltz Version, and a Boogie Version. Sounds lame, I know--but Itrubi and Stoll's treatment is exceptionally well-done, and the husband-and-wife ivory-tickling here is nearly as flashy as F&T on a second encore. They have that same spooky chemistry, too. I guess I'm just a sucker for grand pianism.

http://www.box.net/public/lee/files/243966.html Three Blind Mice (Arranged by Jose Iturbi and George Stoll), Jose and Amparo Iturbi, 1948 (from the 12" RCA Red Seal 78 set DM 1246).

Hopefully, I'll get my hands on some more F&T "roots." They're out there--I simply have to find them. Time to go thrifting!

(Please save, rather than open, file for best results. Thanks!)

Lee

The roots of easy

2005-06-15T10:29:00.000-07:00

And, so, we've observed (aurally) that acres-of-strings easy listening existed in all of its massed magnificence at least as early as 1939. But where did it come from? Are there yet earlier examples of easy-esque pop? Music that was taking the EZ way out as far back as, oh, 1923?

Of course not. EZ roots from the early Flapper Era to the early 1930s? Ridiculous!

Then again, light classics, symphonic-style pop, and string-laden arrangements were very much a part of recorded popular music of the 1920s and 1930s. Almost makes us wonder why such stuff was greeted by music critics of the mid-1950s as a new (and, of course, unwelcome) development.

http://www.box.net/public/lee/files/200134.html
When Day is Done, Paul Whiteman and His Concert Orch., 1927 (probably arranged by Ferde Grofe). Add some strings and some echo, and... instant Andre Kostelanetz!

http://www.box.net/public/lee/files/198050.html
Edward MacDowell's famous 1896 mood piece, To a Wild Rose, arranged by Ferde Grofe and played by Paul Whiteman's Chester Hazlett (with Roy Bargy on the piano). From a 1929 Columbia 78.

http://www.box.net/public/lee/files/200135.html
Song of India, Paul Whiteman and His Orch. (a 1926 remake of an earlier acoustical recording).

http://www.box.net/public/lee/files/198047.html
A Hunt in the Black Forest, Victor Concert Orch. (1926 or 1927). A Pops-concert staple, from a 12" 78.

http://www.box.net/public/lee/files/198046.html
In a Clock Store, Victor Concert Orch. (1926 or 1927). Also a Pops-concert staple, from same 12" 78. Great sound effects.

http://www.box.net/public/lee/files/198451.html
Dreams of India (Percy Wenrich), The Benson Orchestra of Chicago (1923). From a Victor 78 in reasonably decent condition.

http://www.box.net/public/lee/files/198452.html
Where the Ganges Flows, The Great White Way Orchestra (1923). More concert pop/way-early exotica from Victor.

http://www.box.net/public/lee/files/113504.html
Deep Purple, Paul Whiteman and His Concert Orchestra (1934). I'm guessing the arranger to be Roy Bargy. From a 12" Victor 78.

http://www.box.net/public/lee/files/163917.html
Liebestraum, Guy Lombardo and His Royal Canadians, 1936. Mega-famous Liszt piece, as very effectively performed by Guy and the gang. From (you'll never guess) a Victor 78.

http://www.box.net/public/lee/files/140500.html
Kiddie Kapers, Victor Arden-Phil Ohman and Their Orchestra (1928). Sophisticated, charming novelty typical of the era, and very lounge in its sound. From a (yes) Victor label 78.

http://www.box.net/public/lee/files/151365.html
Dance of the Demon (Eduard Holst), Victor Arden and Phil Ohman, piano duet (1923). Further proof that keyboard lounge goes way back. Note that the Holst who composed this was not Gustav Holst--completely different people. That had confused me, at first. (From a worn 78 on the, um, Victor label.) Best heard with a silent film running.

Enjoy these ten (no, wait--eleven) tracks. Save files for best results! And lounge on!!!

Lee

Strings and brass and (a healthy dose of) woodwinds

2005-06-09T17:06:00.000-07:00

The standard stereotype of easy-listening music is as follows: strings, strings, and more strings. Nobody relayed that cliche to Percy Faith, luckily--strong brass, proud strings, and plenty of woodwinds were the rule on his records. (Proud strings?) His arrangements were equal-opportunity charts. No instrument or instrumentalist needed to feel left out. (Instruments have feelings, you know. At least, as we've observed, strings do.)

This intro is getting sillier than the title of the second selection, Jimmy Dorsey's Oodles of Noodles--which, by the way, is a very sophisticated novelty number, not to mention quite a workout for the players (who, fortunately, were guided by Faith). Listen for the bold and brassy closing to I Got Rhythm (George Gershwin's exercise in displaced Charleston rhythms) and the Day the Earth Stood Still-style intro to Deep Purple (the old #IV-I gimmick). Faith's Purple is almost the best version out there, save for not enough symphonic-jazz feel in the jaunty middle section. (I wish I could think of a good "purple" cliche. Something about Barney? No.)

Enjoy these terrific vintage lounge acts (er, tracks) from 1949!

http://www.box.net/public/lee/files/181618.html I Got Rhythm, Percy Faith, 1949.

http://www.box.net/public/lee/files/180556.html Oddles of Noodles (Dorsey), P. Faith, 1949.

http://www.box.net/public/lee/files/180557.html Deep Purple, Percy Faith, 1949.

Lee

Otto Cesana and His Orchestra, 1953

2005-06-06T22:19:00.000-07:00

As we know, vintage easy-listening wasn't necessarily mild--certainly, these two tracks by Otto Cesana are, by EZ standards, downright in-your-face. Both originally appeared on the 10" Columbia LP, Sugar 'n' Spice (1953). Though the Clebanoff-style arrangements seem designed for stereo, they sound just great in monaural. Both numbers were penned by Cesana, though Night Train, of course, is the title of a much more famous Jimmy Forrest twelve-bar instrumental. There was, also, an earlier Whirlwind, by Stan (Riders in the Sky) Jones. I guess the music world was running out of titles by 1953 (?).

Night Train, 1953: http://www.box.net/public/lee/files/177267.html

Whirlwind, 1953: http://www.box.net/public/lee/files/177266.html

Enjoy! (Please save the files, for best results)

Lee

No strings, please--we're skittish.

2005-06-02T23:56:00.000-07:00

Why do music collectors have problems with strings in popular music--especially lots of strings? A few reasons come to mind. Anti-string-section attitudes are, in huge part, a legacy of jazz criticism and its relentless bashing of popular music. Also, there's the received stereotype of strings as anti-rock. And--let's face it--there are plenty of Brahms-phobic collectors who resent strings as symbols of that big, scary monster called Classical Music, even though they don't dare bash Classical music. That would be way too uncool. On the other hand, making fun of Mantovani's massive string section is no-risk behavior, and it can make the right impression on the right people. Good deal: solidify your status in the ranks of collectordom while bashing Mozart through Monty. Psychologists have a phrase for this: being completely phony. (Or, bashing Mozart through Monty.)

Strings in pop music equal crap--a weird notion, really, but try to get away from it. Is that possible? Well, we can start by listening to two superb examples of string-laden easy listening, neither of them the least bit boring (another strings-in-pop stereotype).

We have Vincent Youman's Hallelujah! as played by my favorite EZ maestro, Andre Kostelanetz:

http://www.box.net/public/lee/files/163930.html

And Andre, again, with You and the Night and the Music, from 1950:

http://www.box.net/public/lee/files/163931.html

(And the strings. They forgot to mention those.)

Enjoy!

Lee

It don't mean a thing if it ain't got those strings.

2005-05-31T14:53:00.000-07:00

I'm sure that line has been used many times before, but I like it. Here are some more easy strings from the 1940s--luscious yet incisive, mellow but purposeful. (Purposeful?) Time to drop the intro and let the Holiday for Strings begin. Composer David Rose, and his orchestra, from 1942!

http://www.box.net/public/lee/files/150914.html

And here's Rose's gorgeous Our Waltz (link corrected--sorry!), also from 1942 (and the same slightly-worn EP). Forgive the slight "scritch" in the upper frequencies.

http://www.box.net/public/lee/files/159691.html

And here's a remarkable Morton Gould track from eleven years later--not quite the hi-fi era, but you sure can't tell from the arrangement. The close-miked pizzicato strings; the show-off-your-speakers sound effects; the Clebanoff-esque orchestration; and the deep, wrap-around echo all suggest a 1960 stereo track reduced to a single channel--but this was made in 1953!

http://www.box.net/public/lee/files/140499.html

Remember to save (rather than open) the files. Enjoy!

Lee

Early Lounge--Examples #2

2005-05-28T13:14:00.000-07:00

For today, some more easy sounds from the pre-hi-fi era. The first file comes from Meredith (The Music Man) Willson's four-78 Decca set of 1942, Chiffon Swing. The album doesn't boast the quietest pressings, but the following is the least noisy of the bunch and the most musically interesting: a charming (and then-novel) treatment of Chopin's Minute Waltz. No arranger is credited, but can we assume it was Willson himself? The major-7th ending chord is a very nice touch.

http://www.box.net/public/lee/files/151344.html

From the same 78 RPM set, a Willson-penned instrumental called Thoughts While Strolling (from O.O. McIntyre Suite, notes the label). A graceful and sophisticated pop-Impressionistic miniature very much like the "symphonic jazz" works commissioned by Paul Whiteman in the 1920s and 1930s. Willson had the good taste to keep that tradition going.

http://www.box.net/public/lee/files/154333.html

And, from 1940, two Stephen Foster selections by Andre Kostelanetz and his orchestra. These originally appeared in the three-78 album set, The Music of Stephen Foster (Masterworks M-442). The "Kostelanetz strings" are in full aural display on this file, which is excerpted from Beautiful Dreamer:

http://www.box.net/public/lee/files/154337.html

And there's nothing milquetoast about Kostelanetz' treatment of Old Folks at Home and Camptown Races, which are skillfully combined in a terrific arrangement:

http://www.box.net/public/lee/files/154336.html

The Music of Stephen Foster stayed in print for a number of years in different formats--from the original 78 set to a 10" LP to the 12" Beautiful Dreamer, the latter also featuring Ferde Grofe's Mississippi Suite and Jerome Kern's Mark Twain (Portrait for Orchestra), which had been commissioned by Kostelanetz in 1942.

More vintage lounge sounds to come! Thanks for listening.

Lee

Early lounge--examples #1

2005-05-22T19:46:00.000-07:00

When we think of easy-listening, we tend to think of massed strings. (Well, I do, anyway.) Amazingly, this echo-laden, somewhere-in-the-back-of-the-studio sound was not an invention of the 1950s. Rather, it dates back to 1930s and 1940s radio and recordings. Here's proof: released in 1940 (and recorded in 1939, according to the matrix #), this is Andre Kostelanetz and His Orchestra playing a beautifully syrupy arrangement of Debussy's famous Clair de Lune (misspelled Claire de Lune on my file), with plenty of strings that are plenty far away. Originally released on a thick and heavy 12" Columbia 78!

http://www.box.net/public/lee/files/108743.html

This next one also came out on a thick and heavy 12" Columbia 78: it's Morton Gould, from 1947, playing the very same arrangement of Beyond the Blue Horizon that appeared on his well-known 1961 RCA Living Stereo LP of the same name. No train effects, but, otherwise, it's the same chart. Long-playing records were a year over the horizon when Gould recorded this classic. Ripped from an original 78 copy.

http://www.box.net/public/lee/files/113503.html

And here's Percy Faith and His Orchestra from 1949 (on RCA Victor) with a superb version of the exotica standard, Cumana. What this version might lack in exotica, it fills in with energy, volume, and (to borrow a term from Gunther Schuller) orchestrational ingenuity.

(I cheated. This dates from the early LP era.)

http://www.box.net/public/lee/files/102654.html

Important note: It's best to save each file rather than open it; the latter may not work on your computer (it often doesn't on mine).

Enjoy!

Lee

Welcome to the Vintage Lounge blog!

2005-05-22T19:11:00.000-07:00

The Vintage Lounge blog is about early lounge, exotica, and "bachelor pad" recordings that predate the hi-fi era, Ozzie and Harriet, or (in some cases) even the invention of the LP. It's also about the music that became lounge (proto-lounge, if you prefer, some examples of which have been transcribed from symbols on cave walls). I hope to prove, by way of this site, that lounge and all things exotica did not begin during the hi-fi era, in spite of what we're always being told. I will be posting vintage-lounge mp3s every day, or close to same. This is not the place to find Les Baxter, Esquivel, retro-retro pop, conservative Christian kiddie records from the Eisenhower era, or the Simon and Garfunkel songbook as sung by the Ohio School for ADD Children's Chorus. This is, however, the place to encounter Andre Kostelanetz, Morton Gould, Meredith Willson, David Rose, and other folks who were creating easy/loungey sounds in the days before lounges, hi-fi sets, and Elvis Presley.

I hope this blog is interesting and fun (and relatively historical-error-free).

Lee Hartsfeld, who fancies himself a lounge historian.