Monday, February 19, 2024

Monday afternoon gospel: Smith's Sacred Singers (and two guests): 1926-1930

 



Of course, I'd hoped to have this up yesterday (Sunday), and I might have succeeded if the originals were in average-to-above condition.  But sacred shellac of the late 1920s has a far lower probability of showing up in decent shape than "pop" 78s.

But I did manage to get twelve sides good to go for this Monday.  The two "guest" artists are Rev, J.C. Burnett and His Quartet with the "folk" version of Will the Circle Be Unbroken (which, far as I can determine, is a variant on the 1907 Ada Habershon-Charles Gabriel hymn).  That, or the 1907 hymn followed from a folk source.  But, at this point in my investigation, it seems like a popular-to-folk migration.

And the other "guest" performance features the 1907 Circle, as performed by "citybilly" greats Bud Billings and Carson Robison.  Robison, while an imitation-"hillbilly" singer, did an important service in popularizing genuine from-the-hills material--and he was a gifted performer, besides. 

The rest are fabulous numbers by J. Frank Smith's quartet, Smith's Sacred Singers, spanning the years 1926-1930 and recorded in Atlanta, Georgia.  I really should know, but I'm not sure whether Columbia had a studio in Georgia or whether the group was recorded in "field" style with portable equipment.  Easily researched on line, I'm sure, but I'll leave that to you, dear reader/listener.

Here's a group photo I swiped from the great SecondHandSongs site, one of the net's most amazing resources:


1927's We Shall Rise might be my favorite SSS performance of all, and it's one of two resurrection-morning numbers often confused.  At one point, I went to the trouble of documenting the two numbers after much songbook research, but of course I can't recall the details offhand.  And a quick blog-history check didn't help.  The numbers in question are not as blatantly similar as A Wonderful Time up There and Gloryland Jubilee, both 12-bar boogie tunes, but they're close enough.

And the superlative 1927 SSS version of He Will Set Your Fields on Fire is an important document of the song as written (two years earlier, in 1925), and not with the "swingy" 2/2 pulse that came to dominate country and Southern gospel.  The distinction between the as-written and "swingy" pulse is too subtle to describe--it's akin to a choral score written in quarter and eight notes but with the instruction to introduce a "swinging" triplet pulse.  Country/bluegrass typically does not involve a jazz/R&B pulse (just every once in a while), but it rocks in its own way.  We're hearing Fire before it acquired the standard Chuck Wagon Gang/Cary Story feel. 

I hope that made some sense.  Sometimes, the slightest change in the feel of a performance can make a world of difference. 

Getting back on topic, SSS's style is often described as "shape note" (a variant on "shaped notes"), a term which refers to "Sacred Harp" singing, a choral style (typically rendered in the shouting manner of SSS) that started in New England and made its way down South.  "Shape note" refers to notation styles in which the scale degrees--do-re-mi-fa, etc.--are represented by (as the term implies) different shapes.  The most common variant is a repeated four-note scheme, which works because the standard seven-note Western scale (with the "do" degree doubled) consists of two tetrachords separated by a whole step.  I personally find shape notes an epic pain to read, and it seems, along with all the other music-reading shortcuts of its type, like more hassle than help.  Learning the various key signatures isn't all that much harder than memorizing different notehead shapes.

And... since any SATB or close-harmony number can be rendered in shape-note form, "shape-note" technically does not refer to a specific performance style.  But the SSS members were likely "singing school"-trained; thus, their style would be closer to "Sacred Harp" than not.  Aren't you glad I cleared that up?

Life's Railway to Heaven might have been my late foster mother's favorite gospel hymn, since the text is such a brilliant exercise in sustained spiritual metaphors: The spiritual journey of life as a train ride.  She was an OSU English prof and thus appreciated all expert vernacular examples of that literary device.  She also loved the allegorical aspect of A Tramp on the Street (aka, Only a Tramp), in which the tramp turns out to be no less than Christ himself.  Allegory-wise, Deliverance Will Come (more often titled Palms of Victory) is a condensed version of Pilgrim's Progress, that 1678-1684 work chosen by the Guardian as the greatest novel of all time.  SSS takes Deliverance at a slow tempo, in contrast to later versions.  

Oh, and apologies for the wrecked condition of Shouting on the Hills, but it's too good to omit.  Plus, it increases the track count from thirteen to fourteen.  Not that I'm superstitious, but I'm superstitious.

As mentioned before, the 1928 Bud Billing/Carson Robison Will the Circle Be Unbroken presents the 1907 hymn as written, its lyrics intact (save for "Is a better world" revised into the more hopeful, "In a better world").  Though beautifully done, the recording is not something modern ears are likely to regard as remotely folk--or country, for that matter--but for 1928 listeners, it was a different story.  That is to say, the 1920s had its pop-country variant, just as we have ours today.  In fact, the latest variant is something I can happily do without, though I like the now-"classic" country of Marty Robbins, Hank Snow, and Johnny Cash.  A reminder that "authentic," "classic," etc. are temporally specific labels (and, usually, in reference to our own period).

To the downhome goodness of Smith's Sacred Singers:


DOWNLOAD: Smith's Sacred Singers, Feb. 2024


We Shall Rise--Smith's Sacred Singers, 1927

He Will Set Your Fields on Fire--Same, 1927

I Will Sing of My Redeemer--Same, 1927

The Church in the Wildwood--Same, 1927

Will the Circle Be Unbroken--Rev. J.C. Burnett and His Quartet, 1928 (Take 2)

Deliverance Will Come--Smith's Sacred Singers, 1928

The Home Over There--Same, 1928

Life's Railway to Heaven--Same, 1928

Meet Me There--Same, 1929

Working for the Crown--Same, 1929

City of Gold--Same, 1927

Climbing up the Golden Stairs--Same, 1927

Will the Circle Be Unbroken (Habershon-Gabriel)--Bud Billings and Carson Robison, 1928

Shouting on the Hills--Smith's Sacred Singers, 1926



Lee

Sunday, February 04, 2024

A variation on the standard twist-ploitation album: "New Twists on Old Favorites"---Sammy Kaye and His Orchestra, 1962

 


Finally, my promised Sammy Kaye post--1962's New Twists on Old Favorites--and sorry it took so long.  And, the big question: Do I like it?  Did it please your blogger?  I'm not sure, really.  However, I am impressed by how brilliantly this succeeds in its primary mission: The merging of Sammy Kaye's "sweet band" (aka, "Mickey") style with that 1960 and 1962 dance craze which heralded a new era of popular music.  That is, if you believe in the contemporary hype.  In my mind, the question remains: Why was this particular dance, the music for which was standard eight-to-the-bar boogie-woogie (instrumental blues), greeted as an epic moment in pop music history?  Most answers offered in this regard are classic tautologies.  Such as, "It was a dance which crossed generational lines."  Which I find weird, since the chief objection to r&r dances (on the part of grownups) was their absence of close contact. Rewind back to the 1830s, and the waltz was scandalous BECUASE of its close-contact nature.  Yes, such perceptions often do a 180 over time.  What is correct becomes incorrect, and what is is incorrect, etc.

But any answer which generates further whys (such as, "The twist crossed generational lines") is tautological.  Circular, even.  X is so because x is so.  In a word, "Because."  To me, the vastly over-the-top reaction to the twist makes no sense.  If there was a perceived cultural need for a style which put grownups and teens on the same page, why this one?

And could that be Barbara Nichols posing on the cover?  I can easily imagine Barbara taking such a gig.  At any rate, the model is Barbara Nichols-esque, anyway.  Here's Barbara Nichols.  A nice picture of her, um, face:


For vocals, we get the Kaydets and SPC great Laura Leslie, typically with spoken intros by Kaye.  And, again, these tracks are a remarkable marriage of Kaye's brand of big band and the twist beat (eight-to-the-bar with a backbeat, a la Chuck Berry and the Beatles).  But... Kaye started recording in 1937 (according to Brian Rust), and so why does the song list focus on the 1910s and 1920s (exception: 1939's We'll Meet Again)?  The arrangements are true to his style (if we make allowance for the boogie-woogie twist pulse), but the titles are not true to his era.  Was Decca expecting listeners to associate Kaye with the Victor Military Band, Paul Whiteman, and the Original Dixieland Jazz Band?

There are the questions which haunt us as we travel along this mortal coil.  So, my verdict for the moment: This effort accomplishes precisely what it sets out to do as far as expertly merging a "sweet band" style with Chubby Checker (and with impressive musicianship), its song choices are anachronistic, and Laura Leslie should have been given more chances to shine on vinyl.  Her brief discography doesn't befit her talent.  I may grow to love this, but at the moment I'm very impressed by its originality and expert presentation.  Clever title, too, though I would have liked "Twist and Sway With Sammy Kaye."  

Enjoy!  Oh, and I neglected to note that this was another thrift gift from Diane.  Thanks, Diane!


DOWNLOAD: New Twists on Old Favorites--Sammy Kaye and His Orch. (Decca DL 4247, 1962.


Alexander's Ragtime Band

After You've Gone

Doodle Dee Doo

Who's Sorry Now

We'll Meet Again

I Wish I Could Shimmy Like My Sister Kate

That's My Weakness Now

The Darktown Strutters' Ball

Somebody Stole My Gal

Nobody's Sweetheart

Five Foot Two Eyes of Blue (Has Anybody Seen My Gal)

It's Sunday Down in Caroline


Lee


Friday, January 19, 2024

Light music festival: "Exotic Music" (Andre Kostelanetz), plus "London Suite," "Warsaw Concerto," "Park Avenue Fantasy," and "Deep Purple"!


I promised to get to Sammy Kaye (and, yes, musicman1979--it's his contribution to the twist-ploitation craze), and I will, but for today we have a light concert (aka, light music) post, all of the selections ripped from 12-inch 78s in my collection and spanning the years from (let's see) 1934 to 1946.  

We start with the four selections (!) of the two-disc Andre Kostelanetz set, Exotic Music (1946), whose standout track is the roots-of-exotica selection Lotus Land, composed by Cyril Scott in 1905.  From the liner notes:

"Lotus Land finds its story in the Odyssey of Homer.  During the ten years of tribulation which he spent returning from the siege of Troy, Odysseus braved and overcame many perils, some fierce and aggressive, others latent and passive, but just as deadly.  One of these periods awaited him in the land of the Lotus-eaters.  Whoever stopped here and ate of the lotus flower would at once forget all thoughts of home and duty and remain on to live in dreamy indolence.  This peril, successfully defied by Odysseus, is pictured with wonderful realism in this impressionistic music.  The languid, dulled ease, the meaninglessness of time, the fatal beauty of the flower, are all richly embroidered in this tonal tapestry."

Debussy Lite, in other words.  And I wish there had been at least two additional numbers, but maybe they ran out of studio time?  ("I thought we were booked till 4 pm.  Okay, we'll clear out.")
The other three titles are fine, even if lacking in conventional "exotica" feeling, as that term is applied to Esquivel, Les Baxter, et al.  

Then, Eric Coates' London Suite, played by the London Philharmonic Orch., as conducted by the composer, on a 1937 Masterworks single, the A and B sides combined into one file.  The individual sections are Covent Garden (Tarantella), Westminster (Meditation), and Knightsbridge (March).  Note the ingenious treatments of the bell chime ("Westminster Quarters").  This is joyful and skillfully constructed light fare--the epitome of a "Pops" selection.  The audio is exceptional.



Andre Kostelanetz returns with the famous Warsaw Concerto, penned by Richard Addinsell for the 1941 movie, Suicide Squadron.  Kosty must have recorded this somewhere other than in his usual studio, given the rather muffled highs (which I restored).  This isn't the usual distant-mic AK sound, but I don't suppose that would have worked for such a dynamic number.  I'm pretty sure the year is 1946.  Wish I knew who did the ivory tickling.



Next, Paul Whiteman conducting his 1934 Concert Orchestra in two famous "symphonic jazz" works, both of which yielded highly successful pop songs: Park Avenue Fantasy ("Stairway to the Stars"), and Deep Purple ("Deep Purple" [what else?]."  The scoring is by Roy Bargy and (probably) Irving Szathmary, respectively.  The pianist is Dana Suesse.  Some gramophone-soundbox wear in the loud closing passages for both, but with only minor distortion.


And we wrap up with even more Andre: The 1944 "Oklahoma!" Medley.  We're back to the classic easy listening/mood music acoustics we associate with Kosty.  Wish I had arranger information--the scoring really sells the wonderful Hammerstein II-Rodgers numbers.  It's too bad that much music of this sort/era (the kind of popular instrumental fare common to 1930s and 1940s radio broadcasts) has come to be perceived as "Muzak"--as that brand name is generically used, that is.  A style which, for a time, entered the "Music to (name of activity) By" category during the 1950s.  Music to study by, read by, date by, knock over convenience stores by, etc.  As this 12-inch single demonstrates, it was, often as not, music worthy of full and admiring attention.




Click here to hear: Light Music Festival--Andre Kostelanetz, London Philharmonic Orch., Paul Whiteman Concert Orch.



Andre Kostelanetz and His Orch. (Columbia Masterworks MX-264, 1946)

Flamingo (Grouya)
Poinciana (Song of the Tree; Nat Simon)
Song of India (Rimsky-Korsakov)
Lotus Land (Cyril Scott)

Various

London Suite (Covent Garden, Westminster, Knightsbridge)--London Philharmonic Orch., c. Eric Coates, 1937

Warsaw Concerto (Richard Addinsell)--Andre Kostelanetz and His Orch., 1946

Park Avenue Fantasy (Matt Malneck-Frank Signorelli, A: Roy Bargy)--Paul Whiteman and His Concert Orch., piano: Dana Suesse, 9/11/1934

Deep Purple (Peter De Rose, A: prob. Irving Szathmary)--Same

"Oklahoma!" Medley--Andre Kostelanetz and His Orch., 1944




Lee


Wednesday, January 10, 2024

The Electro-Sonic Orchestra, c. Dick Jacobs, 1961. "Defies all restrictions"!

 

So, this 1961 album is either a revelation or a snooze, and I have yet to decide on that count.  It demands multiple plays.  But the liner notes are unambiguous in their acclaim: "The Electro-Sonic Orchestra represents a new sound, a sound never heard before, a sound that defies all restrictions and delights in its breathtaking scope and startling dept."  Sounds which are new and never heard before.  How's that for redundancy?  "A sound that defies all restrictions."  Is that even possible?  I love to make fun of liner-note puffery.

The secret of the new, never-before-heard, restriction-obliterating sound is the transducer.  Which all microphones are, fundamentally (transducers), but we'll overlook that technicality and let Coral continue:

"The Transducer--an especially designed device that attaches directly to the instruments."  No "open" microphones, and so we're hearing the vibrations of acoustic instruments as picked up by contact microphones, I'm presuming.  We're talking piano, drum, bass violin, guitar, electric bass, cello, two violas, and six violins (Oxford comma added).  

And: "This is electronic music.  Not the weird machine-made sounds usually associated with the term."  Yet, a vintage synth--the ondioline--and an organ (electric, presumably) are used, and so we are, in fact, getting some of "the weird machine-made sounds usually associated with the term."  Hey, Coral's description, not mine!

And, when introducing a new sound never heard before--one which defies all restrictions--Itsy Bitsy Teenie Weenie Yellow Polkadot Bikini is a playlist must!

Though this has obvious historical interest, it goes for ordinary prices, and possibly because it sold well (with umpteen copies extant).  And because its gimmick didn't catch on (to my knowledge).  Still, the crisp stereo separation is cool, and the constant panning (to add to the orch.'s "new" feel) is hilarious in a dated way.



DOWNLOAD: The Electro-Sonic Orchestra, c. by Dick Jacobs (Coral CRL 757381; 1961)    


Volare

Cry

Hey There

Tammy

Itsy Bitsy Teenie Weenie Yellow Polkadot Bikini

Sincerely

Mack the Knife

Fascination

I'm Sorry

Little Things Mean a Lot

(Put Another Nickel In) Music! Music! Music!

That's My Desire


Lee


Monday, December 25, 2023

More Merry Mervmas, Tu Scendi Dalle Stelle, Holiday Favorites (Gilmar)

 




DOWNLOAD: More Mervmas and Tu Scendi Dalle Stelle

I guess this will be my December 25 post (in fact, Christmas is nine minutes away).  I would have revived more "banned" posts and put up a couple more "new" LPs, but my storage options are limited, and I quickly exceeded Box.com's downloading bandwidth.  Which I don't want to do at pixeldrain.  MEGA?  Won't let me use it.  Clearly, I'm the only music blogger uploading material with any copyright-claim potential.  Obviously.  Oh, and thanks to all who recommended alternate hosting sites.

Things start with three Merv Griffin sides I present every Christmas. The first two--1950's Sleigh Ride and Christmas Time--date from Merv's time as vocalist for the Freddy Martin Orchestra. The third--1962's Christmas City--was recorded by Merv for the annual Christmas City of the North Parade in Duluth, Minnesota. Nice song, well arranged, well recorded, and Merv is fine, my only issue being his pronunciation of "youth"--"Come this Christmas, and you'll suddenly find your youth," which initially sounded to my ears like, "...and you'll suddenly find you're you." Which sort of works, but not nearly as well as "youth."

And I'll skip ahead to the Gilmar Holiday Favorites 45 rpm EP, its A and B sides combined into one file.  Both sides feature a continuous groove, with awkward pauses and fades between selection fragments. The engineering ineptitude is of the have-to-hear-it-to-believe type, and many of the recordings are very familiar, though I can't place them.  Tops?  Eli Oberstein?  Maybe I'll have time to find out at some point.  I swear that the B side sounds like something cobbled together while the guy at the controls dozed off.  ("Wha... what?  Oh, yeah, I'm mixing a side.  I forgot.")

And the gorgeous Tu Scendi Dalle Stelle (You Come Down From the Stars) is a 1732 Christmas carol featuring words and music by Saint Alphonsus Liguori of Italy.  Here's the wonderful comment I received in 2020 by Roberto of Milan, Lombardy.  The references are to guesses I'd made in my post:

"Hi, I have some other records from that series -not this one, so thank you very much-. You're right about the interpretation of "4 voci dispari": here it is second case, all-male adult/children. The plaque in the town of Nola (close to Naples, not LA) tells the song was written there in december 1754, yet those were the years indeed. For the Italian generations born no matter when from 19th to 20th century this one was the pretty first Xmas tune to be heard and learned by heart. The child introducing the song is a guest of the Orphanage -turned into a private high scool nowadays-: he calls himself "Ricciolino" [Curly] and he's 13. He's thanking all the benefactors, to whom this record is probably given as a freebie, wishing season greetings to all Italians in and outside the Country -emigrants were still many in 1959, that should be the year- asking everyone to remember and help the lonely like him and his companions. Then the song begins, just first verse and twice refrain. You won't escape the translation, just as horrible as only mine could be:

[O Blessed God!] 
You come down from the stars 
O King of Heaven 
[O King of Heaven] 
And come to a cave 
In the cold, in the frost 
And come to a cave 
In the cold, in the frost 

O my Divine Child 
I see you trembling here
O Blessed God
Ah, how much it did cost you 
For loving me! 
Ah, how much it did cost you 
For loving me! [2]

Even the manufacturer Cellograf-Simp survives today, with production and marketing strategies slightly different though... Always been into plastics, at those times it first finalized others' given masters, later starting an editorial branch of its own (Phonocolor/Style). From late 50s to early 60s it was the main flexis stamper in Italy and yes, a bit more thickness has always featured its production. They were mainly freebies: Italy was living an economic boom back then and after purchasing the right amount of any stuff you always got your flexi thrown to. Sorry the lengthy... Roberto - Milan, Lombardy -not so far from Desenzano-"

Merry Christmas!


Lee