Five tracks to wake you up this morning. Or whatever time of day (or night) it happens to be. Or whenever you're in need of being roused awake. This stuff should do it.
We begin with Woke Up Screaming (hope you didn't) by Bobby "Blue" Bland, reach the midpoint of our journey to wakefulness with Slim Gaillard's Dunkin' Bagels (a tribute to a favorite pre-Dunkin'-Donuts chain), and end with Janice Beck's performance of William Billings' 1778 exercise in dissonance, Jargon. Wow--and nearly 200 years before Frank Zappa invented such cluttered harmonies! Will wonders ever cease?
Update: The guitarist on the first track is Roy Gaines (vice Clarence Holliman). Information courtesy of BBB, whom we thank for the correction. Something told me I got that wrong, and I figured someone would help us out. Awesome lead work:
Woke Up Screaming, Bobby "Blue" Bland, 1956.
Sure Like to Run, "Chicago" Carl Davis, 1949.
Dunkin' Bagel, Slim Gaillard, 1945.
The Jam Man, Slim Gaillard, year unknown.
Jargon (William Billings, 1778), Janice Beck, organ.
Lee
Saturday, February 25, 2006
Thursday, February 23, 2006
Wake up to Benny, Lee, and The Versatile Four!
Some great wake-up music for your Thursday morning. We start with Lee Hartsfeld's (whoever he is) Belly-Dancing Rag, from 1999. Played back by my late Performer software through my equally deceased Macintosh 512K:
The Belly-Dancing Rag (Lee Hartsfeld, 1999), Entered onto music program and played through Casio keyboard.
That didn't do it? How about a version of House of the Rising Sun by blues great Leadbelly? Instead of the tune we're used to, Huddie used a fast, catchy work-song of a number:
In New Orleans, Leadbelly, 1944. From (highly cheap) Rondo label LP.
A "house of the rising sun," by the way, is a place of, um... you know. It's a rhymes-with-storehouse. Anyway, did that number do it?
No? In that case, fill your ears with Lee Hartsfeld's Dissonant Rag, from 2000. ("Frank Zappa Rag" has probably been used already.) Some fun polytonal moments--it helps to have a musical parrot on hand. (Get it? Polly tonal? Sorry.):
The Dissonant Rag (Lee Hartsfeld, 2000), Entered onto music program and played through Casio keyboard.
Still groggy? Well, The Versatile Four took care of that 90 years ago when they recorded this rough and raggy wake-up ditty:
Down Home Rag (Sweatman), The Versatile Four. Charlie Johnson, drums. Recorded in London, 1916.
No? O.K., this is your last chance. If Benny Goodman's Rattle and Roll doesn't rattle or roll you awake, there's not much we can do. Interesting title, no? Almost makes me want to do the Shake....
Rattle and Roll (Basie--Goodman--Clayton), Benny Goodman and His Orchestra, 1946. Rescued from home-made cassette.
Pretty good sound quality, considering that it comes from a fairly trashed 78 that I put on cassette back in 1998. It sounded much worse before I worked my MAGIX on it. I love the way that record starts out in typical big band mode and ends up in the realm of rock and roll. Not the only big band record ever to do that, either.
When I spotted Rattle and Roll in a thrift store, I thought to myself, "No WAY something with this title is going to sound like rock and roll. That would be too convenient." But sometimes history takes pity on us and makes the search easy.
Anyway, I hope you're awake now. I.... Zzzzzzzzzzz.
Lee
The Belly-Dancing Rag (Lee Hartsfeld, 1999), Entered onto music program and played through Casio keyboard.
That didn't do it? How about a version of House of the Rising Sun by blues great Leadbelly? Instead of the tune we're used to, Huddie used a fast, catchy work-song of a number:
In New Orleans, Leadbelly, 1944. From (highly cheap) Rondo label LP.
A "house of the rising sun," by the way, is a place of, um... you know. It's a rhymes-with-storehouse. Anyway, did that number do it?
No? In that case, fill your ears with Lee Hartsfeld's Dissonant Rag, from 2000. ("Frank Zappa Rag" has probably been used already.) Some fun polytonal moments--it helps to have a musical parrot on hand. (Get it? Polly tonal? Sorry.):
The Dissonant Rag (Lee Hartsfeld, 2000), Entered onto music program and played through Casio keyboard.
Still groggy? Well, The Versatile Four took care of that 90 years ago when they recorded this rough and raggy wake-up ditty:
Down Home Rag (Sweatman), The Versatile Four. Charlie Johnson, drums. Recorded in London, 1916.
No? O.K., this is your last chance. If Benny Goodman's Rattle and Roll doesn't rattle or roll you awake, there's not much we can do. Interesting title, no? Almost makes me want to do the Shake....
Rattle and Roll (Basie--Goodman--Clayton), Benny Goodman and His Orchestra, 1946. Rescued from home-made cassette.
Pretty good sound quality, considering that it comes from a fairly trashed 78 that I put on cassette back in 1998. It sounded much worse before I worked my MAGIX on it. I love the way that record starts out in typical big band mode and ends up in the realm of rock and roll. Not the only big band record ever to do that, either.
When I spotted Rattle and Roll in a thrift store, I thought to myself, "No WAY something with this title is going to sound like rock and roll. That would be too convenient." But sometimes history takes pity on us and makes the search easy.
Anyway, I hope you're awake now. I.... Zzzzzzzzzzz.
Lee
Wednesday, February 22, 2006
My cash ain't....
Just took care of a money matter on the phone. A check will arrive within ten days. I'll be getting what's left over after taxes--including a penalty tax that seems quite unfair, under the circumstances, though there's nothing I can do about it. The whole thing has left me feeling like my cash ain't nothin' but trash.
Hm? Wasn't there a song by that name, or close to it?
Your Cash Ain't Nothin' But Trash (Charles Calhoun), The Clovers, 1954. From Atlantic reissue 45.
Charles Calhoun--who also wrote Shake, Rattle and Roll; Money Honey; and Smack Dab in the Middle--was actually the jazz genius Jesse Stone, who had his start in the music biz at least as early as 1927. Stone is possibly THE unsung popular music talent of the last century. I get to thinking as much whenever I listen to a song like this one.
Lee
Hm? Wasn't there a song by that name, or close to it?
Your Cash Ain't Nothin' But Trash (Charles Calhoun), The Clovers, 1954. From Atlantic reissue 45.
Charles Calhoun--who also wrote Shake, Rattle and Roll; Money Honey; and Smack Dab in the Middle--was actually the jazz genius Jesse Stone, who had his start in the music biz at least as early as 1927. Stone is possibly THE unsung popular music talent of the last century. I get to thinking as much whenever I listen to a song like this one.
Lee
More Otto Cesana
Previously, I posted Otto Cesana's marvelous 1953 Night Train, a rip-roaring piece of (not so) easy-listening not be confused with the great Buddy Morrow hit written by Jimmy Forrest. Here are four more tracks written and conducted by Otto, and they're all great examples from the close of easy listening's first wave.
The close of what, you ask? Easy listening's first period, which lasted, by my estimation, from the late 1920s to about 1953/54. Then people discovered this stuff, gave it a name (mood/easy/semi-Classical) and a function ("Music to Test Your Hi-Fi Set By, Part 87"), and it became "commercial."
Sorry. Just playing with that journalistic cliche. Of course, the music was commercial from the get-go. Contrary to popular belief, pop is pop. The moment something goes from being just another pop form to THE mass music form, perhaps it becomes MORE commercial. But it doesn't go from being something pure or folk or "real" to something less so.
I hope you followed that paragraph, because I sure didn't.
Anyway, easy-listening/mood/etc. went from being stuff people heard on the radio and bought on 78s (Kostelanetz, Gould, et al) to becoming 80 percent of all music put out on long-playing records (or close to--look in any thrift store bin, if you don't believe me!). Quite a transition. Most lounge historians place the start of EZ's first wave, therefore, at 1955 or thereabouts. In fact, that was the beginning of the music's second wave. So there.
Joseph Lanza, in his book Elevator Music, writes about pre-hi-fi lounge. But then he tosses all of his data out the window and conforms, as if ordered by the publisher, to the common view--i.e., that EZ magically emerged from the hi-fi sets of the mid-Fifties. That was the main reason I gave the book one star at Amazon.com. Until he pulled that stunt, he had three stars going.
Anyway, these four Otto Cesana tracks prove otherwise: far from getting its start in the early 1950s, lounge had come quite a long way by then. The first two tracks are pre-1953--1951, or so, is my guess. The last two are from 1953 and originally issued on the earlier, 10" version of the Ecstasy album. (Are you confused yet? Me, too!) Anyway, it's great stuff :
Ecstasy (Cesana), Otto Cesana and His Orchestra, early 1950s? From the earlier, 10" version of Ecstasy. Pre-1953; otherwise, date unknown.
Starlight (Cesana), Otto Cesana and His Orch., featuring Bernie Leighton at the piano. From original 10" version of Ecstasy. Pre-1953; otherwise, date unknown.
Whirlwind (Cesana), Otto Cesana and His Orch., 1953. Orig. from 10" 1953 LP Sugar 'N' Spice, but burned from the 12" 1955 Ecstasy LP. (This piece pretty much describes how my head feels after three days' worth of a respiratory virus.)
Reflection (Cesana), Otto Cesana and His Orch., 1953. Originally featured on 10" Sugar 'N' Spice LP, 1953, but this version burned from 12" Ecstasy LP, 1955.
Thanks for listening!
Lee
The close of what, you ask? Easy listening's first period, which lasted, by my estimation, from the late 1920s to about 1953/54. Then people discovered this stuff, gave it a name (mood/easy/semi-Classical) and a function ("Music to Test Your Hi-Fi Set By, Part 87"), and it became "commercial."
Sorry. Just playing with that journalistic cliche. Of course, the music was commercial from the get-go. Contrary to popular belief, pop is pop. The moment something goes from being just another pop form to THE mass music form, perhaps it becomes MORE commercial. But it doesn't go from being something pure or folk or "real" to something less so.
I hope you followed that paragraph, because I sure didn't.
Anyway, easy-listening/mood/etc. went from being stuff people heard on the radio and bought on 78s (Kostelanetz, Gould, et al) to becoming 80 percent of all music put out on long-playing records (or close to--look in any thrift store bin, if you don't believe me!). Quite a transition. Most lounge historians place the start of EZ's first wave, therefore, at 1955 or thereabouts. In fact, that was the beginning of the music's second wave. So there.
Joseph Lanza, in his book Elevator Music, writes about pre-hi-fi lounge. But then he tosses all of his data out the window and conforms, as if ordered by the publisher, to the common view--i.e., that EZ magically emerged from the hi-fi sets of the mid-Fifties. That was the main reason I gave the book one star at Amazon.com. Until he pulled that stunt, he had three stars going.
Anyway, these four Otto Cesana tracks prove otherwise: far from getting its start in the early 1950s, lounge had come quite a long way by then. The first two tracks are pre-1953--1951, or so, is my guess. The last two are from 1953 and originally issued on the earlier, 10" version of the Ecstasy album. (Are you confused yet? Me, too!) Anyway, it's great stuff :
Ecstasy (Cesana), Otto Cesana and His Orchestra, early 1950s? From the earlier, 10" version of Ecstasy. Pre-1953; otherwise, date unknown.
Starlight (Cesana), Otto Cesana and His Orch., featuring Bernie Leighton at the piano. From original 10" version of Ecstasy. Pre-1953; otherwise, date unknown.
Whirlwind (Cesana), Otto Cesana and His Orch., 1953. Orig. from 10" 1953 LP Sugar 'N' Spice, but burned from the 12" 1955 Ecstasy LP. (This piece pretty much describes how my head feels after three days' worth of a respiratory virus.)
Reflection (Cesana), Otto Cesana and His Orch., 1953. Originally featured on 10" Sugar 'N' Spice LP, 1953, but this version burned from 12" Ecstasy LP, 1955.
Thanks for listening!
Lee
Monday, February 20, 2006
Places to visit
Check out the excellent Boss's Day offerings at Ben T. Steckler's Bent Records blog. The Orson Welles selection looks especially fun. I recall that's the way the director of Citizen Kane ended his career--narrating pseudo-scientific/paranormal nonsense. He had the voice and the presence. I guess, if you're reading B.S., you need to sound convincing in a stage sort of way. (As opposed to stagey.)
Scottish actor David McCallum eventually fell into that role, too, as did the late Irish actor Edward Mulhare, who I will always remember as the scientist who sent the former player into his evolutionary future on the original Outer Limits. I loved the Outer Limits, and I like the fact that it never pushed its pretend-science as the real thing. And I love that a show from the early Sixties would have even taken on a topic like evolution, though ABC's censors initially weren't too keen on the idea--luckily, OL's producers convinced them that evolution was a topic central to science fiction. And, sure enough, we have entire school boards today which regard Darwin's theory as science fiction.
Not what OL had in mind, I don't think....
"Amazing, isn't it, the things that endure the ravages of time and taste? This simple prelude, for instance. Bach will quite probably outlive us all..."--McCallum, sightreading Bach as Mulhare looks on, from The Sixth Finger. If you're never seen this episode, see it. Get the video. Or catch it in heavily-edited form on the Sci-Fi Channel.
Vintage Lounge is another place to be--blogger Lee Hartsfeld (who?) just posted all of the music from Whittemore and Lowe's 1946 set Two Grand--all eight selections thereof. Splendid duo-piano-with-orchestra EZ in the best Ferrante and Teicher style, and well before such sounds became the norm! I knew that someone must have been making such music before F&T, and was I right, or what? In fact, there were a bunch of folks doing the F&T/W&L thing.
I've always wanted to type "the F&T/W&L thing." At last, that dream fulfilled.
Going back to The Outer Limits (which I do, on a fairly regular basis, via video), that series' second episode was a mind-blowing tale wherein the (fictional) president of the U.S. was replaced by an impostor! The cowriter, Alan Balter, was one of the main creative forces behind Mission: Impossible, and perhaps that's why that installment (The 100 Days of the Dragon) feels so much like same. Superb stuff, with a script that impressed my mom, which impressed me--at age six, I was amazed that she would dig something I liked.
Don't get me going on The Outer Limits. I'll never be able to stop. It was too good for television, that's for dang sure.
Anyway, I need to put Bent Records in my links section. Now, before I forget. Which I'm so very good at doing.
Lee
Scottish actor David McCallum eventually fell into that role, too, as did the late Irish actor Edward Mulhare, who I will always remember as the scientist who sent the former player into his evolutionary future on the original Outer Limits. I loved the Outer Limits, and I like the fact that it never pushed its pretend-science as the real thing. And I love that a show from the early Sixties would have even taken on a topic like evolution, though ABC's censors initially weren't too keen on the idea--luckily, OL's producers convinced them that evolution was a topic central to science fiction. And, sure enough, we have entire school boards today which regard Darwin's theory as science fiction.
Not what OL had in mind, I don't think....
"Amazing, isn't it, the things that endure the ravages of time and taste? This simple prelude, for instance. Bach will quite probably outlive us all..."--McCallum, sightreading Bach as Mulhare looks on, from The Sixth Finger. If you're never seen this episode, see it. Get the video. Or catch it in heavily-edited form on the Sci-Fi Channel.
Vintage Lounge is another place to be--blogger Lee Hartsfeld (who?) just posted all of the music from Whittemore and Lowe's 1946 set Two Grand--all eight selections thereof. Splendid duo-piano-with-orchestra EZ in the best Ferrante and Teicher style, and well before such sounds became the norm! I knew that someone must have been making such music before F&T, and was I right, or what? In fact, there were a bunch of folks doing the F&T/W&L thing.
I've always wanted to type "the F&T/W&L thing." At last, that dream fulfilled.
Going back to The Outer Limits (which I do, on a fairly regular basis, via video), that series' second episode was a mind-blowing tale wherein the (fictional) president of the U.S. was replaced by an impostor! The cowriter, Alan Balter, was one of the main creative forces behind Mission: Impossible, and perhaps that's why that installment (The 100 Days of the Dragon) feels so much like same. Superb stuff, with a script that impressed my mom, which impressed me--at age six, I was amazed that she would dig something I liked.
Don't get me going on The Outer Limits. I'll never be able to stop. It was too good for television, that's for dang sure.
Anyway, I need to put Bent Records in my links section. Now, before I forget. Which I'm so very good at doing.
Lee
President's Day, Part Three--Time to Like Ike
If there were a time to like Ike more than ever, this is the time. Boomers love to believe that Ike's era was a conservative one politically, socially, sexually, and every other -ly. Real-ly?
If you honestly think that era was sexually repressed, rent 1955's Guys and Dolls. Witness the sort of soft-core porn that was all over the pop culture of that era--in this case, busty dancers clad in corsets and striking suggestive poses. Tell yourself that no one had, or had any idea about, sex. Otherwise, we're forced to conclude that people knew a lot about same during (what did they call that?) the Baby Boom. You think??
And if you really believe that Ike's era was politically conservative, ask yourself how many nanoseconds it would have taken for that president to leave his shoe-print in the average neo-con's posterior, should someone of that ilk have dared to enter his office. (What a wonderful image.) And Ike may have had less patience for the conservative evangelicals of our day who seek to turn our country into the U.S. of God. Of course, those folks were fringe characters back then--the media wasn't giving them unlimited attention, and that group's unkind ideas certainly wouldn't have fit in with the vernacular, live-and-let-live type of Christianity that existed then. Of course, now that we super-duper-liberal Boomers are running the show, neo-cons and evan-cons rule. Great job, fellow Boomers. We did real good.
We've sort of covered social conservatism. Oh, and how about musical conservatism? Well, let's see: During Ike's watch, rock and roll made it to the pop charts. And stayed there. By contrast, nowadays, the pop music world... um... er....
Nowadays, we have.... Things are.... Um....
Yeah.
Yup. Really conservative times, those. R&r hits the pop charts. The civil rights movement gets underway, big-time. We have a Republican president who, by today's standards, would be crucified for being too left-wing. And busty women dance in corsets in family Hollywood fare.
I think we have a lot to learn from Ike's era. And here's a super piece of music composed for one of our coolest presidents:
Dwight D. Eisenhower March (Lavalle), Paul Lavalle and the Cities Service Band of America, 1955. From RCA LP, Lavalle at Work.
I've grown to like Ike. I wish we could become an Ike-like country again, don't you?
Lee
If you honestly think that era was sexually repressed, rent 1955's Guys and Dolls. Witness the sort of soft-core porn that was all over the pop culture of that era--in this case, busty dancers clad in corsets and striking suggestive poses. Tell yourself that no one had, or had any idea about, sex. Otherwise, we're forced to conclude that people knew a lot about same during (what did they call that?) the Baby Boom. You think??
And if you really believe that Ike's era was politically conservative, ask yourself how many nanoseconds it would have taken for that president to leave his shoe-print in the average neo-con's posterior, should someone of that ilk have dared to enter his office. (What a wonderful image.) And Ike may have had less patience for the conservative evangelicals of our day who seek to turn our country into the U.S. of God. Of course, those folks were fringe characters back then--the media wasn't giving them unlimited attention, and that group's unkind ideas certainly wouldn't have fit in with the vernacular, live-and-let-live type of Christianity that existed then. Of course, now that we super-duper-liberal Boomers are running the show, neo-cons and evan-cons rule. Great job, fellow Boomers. We did real good.
We've sort of covered social conservatism. Oh, and how about musical conservatism? Well, let's see: During Ike's watch, rock and roll made it to the pop charts. And stayed there. By contrast, nowadays, the pop music world... um... er....
Nowadays, we have.... Things are.... Um....
Yeah.
Yup. Really conservative times, those. R&r hits the pop charts. The civil rights movement gets underway, big-time. We have a Republican president who, by today's standards, would be crucified for being too left-wing. And busty women dance in corsets in family Hollywood fare.
I think we have a lot to learn from Ike's era. And here's a super piece of music composed for one of our coolest presidents:
Dwight D. Eisenhower March (Lavalle), Paul Lavalle and the Cities Service Band of America, 1955. From RCA LP, Lavalle at Work.
I've grown to like Ike. I wish we could become an Ike-like country again, don't you?
Lee
President's Day, Part Two--"The President on the Dollar"
I just read, for the 40th time so far, that George Washington wasn't really the first president of the United States. I see. Far out.
Oh, well. He was a great president, anyway. Besides, his picture is on the dollar, which happens to be the name of our first selection: His Picture Is on the Dollar. I mean, The President on the Dollar. The song was written by Bob (Any Day Now, Somebody Bad Stole de Wedding Bell, Our Day Will Come) Hilliard and Philip (Santa Baby) Springer. It made the Top 100 in 1956:
The President on the Dollar (Hilliard--Springer), Mitch Miller and His Orchestra and Chorus, 1956. From LP Mitch's Marches.
Hip music fans hate Mitch Miller. I love Mitch Miller. Therefore, I must not be hip. (But we knew that.) Of course, it goes further than that--I'm patriotic, I love church hymns and gospel tunes, and I even like many of George M. Cohan's songs. We can only conclude that I'm beyond hip. I mean, hope.
Perhaps you suspect that you, too, are terminally unhip. Have you, ever? Or does your mind refuse to even address such a possibility? Is being unhip really so awful?
While you're deciding that, let's hear two Washington-era marches, the first one titled after George, by George. The outstanding organist is Janice Beck. Excellent playing, excellent sound--great combo:
Washington's March (Anonymous), Janice Beck, playing the Noehren organ in the First Baptist Church, Ann Arbor, Michigan. From Musical Heritage Society LP.
The President's March (Hail, Columbia) (Philip Phile), Janice Beck, (see info above).
And here's another Washington-era organ work by Anonymous. (Man, I wish I received his royalties!) It's called Brandywine Quick-step, and dancing to this charming number would have been an aerobic experience, Leethinks:
Brandywine Quick-Step (Anonymous, late 18th century), Janice Beck, playing the Noehren organ in the First Baptist Church, Ann Arbor, Michigan. From Musical Heritage Society LP.
I really dig that one. Elegantly written, and then some--and we don't even know who put it down on paper. That sucks. At any rate, nice to know that Washington had such great sounds to sink his (wooden) teeth into.
(Hmm... "sink"+ "wooden teeth into" brings up fewer than 500 matches on Google. Not bad.)
"My first wish is to see this plague of mankind, war, banished from the earth."--George, whose words don't exactly speak for the current White House gang.
Lee
Oh, well. He was a great president, anyway. Besides, his picture is on the dollar, which happens to be the name of our first selection: His Picture Is on the Dollar. I mean, The President on the Dollar. The song was written by Bob (Any Day Now, Somebody Bad Stole de Wedding Bell, Our Day Will Come) Hilliard and Philip (Santa Baby) Springer. It made the Top 100 in 1956:
The President on the Dollar (Hilliard--Springer), Mitch Miller and His Orchestra and Chorus, 1956. From LP Mitch's Marches.
Hip music fans hate Mitch Miller. I love Mitch Miller. Therefore, I must not be hip. (But we knew that.) Of course, it goes further than that--I'm patriotic, I love church hymns and gospel tunes, and I even like many of George M. Cohan's songs. We can only conclude that I'm beyond hip. I mean, hope.
Perhaps you suspect that you, too, are terminally unhip. Have you, ever? Or does your mind refuse to even address such a possibility? Is being unhip really so awful?
While you're deciding that, let's hear two Washington-era marches, the first one titled after George, by George. The outstanding organist is Janice Beck. Excellent playing, excellent sound--great combo:
Washington's March (Anonymous), Janice Beck, playing the Noehren organ in the First Baptist Church, Ann Arbor, Michigan. From Musical Heritage Society LP.
The President's March (Hail, Columbia) (Philip Phile), Janice Beck, (see info above).
And here's another Washington-era organ work by Anonymous. (Man, I wish I received his royalties!) It's called Brandywine Quick-step, and dancing to this charming number would have been an aerobic experience, Leethinks:
Brandywine Quick-Step (Anonymous, late 18th century), Janice Beck, playing the Noehren organ in the First Baptist Church, Ann Arbor, Michigan. From Musical Heritage Society LP.
I really dig that one. Elegantly written, and then some--and we don't even know who put it down on paper. That sucks. At any rate, nice to know that Washington had such great sounds to sink his (wooden) teeth into.
(Hmm... "sink"+ "wooden teeth into" brings up fewer than 500 matches on Google. Not bad.)
"My first wish is to see this plague of mankind, war, banished from the earth."--George, whose words don't exactly speak for the current White House gang.
Lee
President's Day, Part One: Copland's "Lincoln Portrait"
Aaron Copland's Lincoln Portrait was one of three works commissioned by Andre Kostelanetz. It premiered on May 14, 1942, with Kostelanetz conducting the Cincinnati Symphony Orchestra.
Copland, describing his piece in 1943, wrote: "I worked with musical materials of my own, with the exception of two songs of the period: the famous Camptown Races and a ballad that was first published in 1840 under the title The Pesky Sarpent but is better known today as Springfield Mountain. In neither case is the treatment a literal one. The tunes are used freely, in the manner of my use of cowboy songs in Billy the Kid.
The composition is roughly divided into three sections. In the opening section I wanted to suggest something of the mysterious sense of fatality that surrounds Lincoln's personality. Also, near the end of that section, something of his gentleness and simplicity of spirit. The quick middle section briefly sketches in the background of the times he lived in. This merges into the concluding section where my sole purpose was to draw a simple but impressive frame about the words of Lincoln himself." (That is what he said. That is what Aaron Copland said....)
This 1958 recording is, by far, the best one I've heard. When it comes to the Lincoln Portrait, Carl Sandburg is the narrator, Kostelanetz the conductor, and the NY Philharmonic the orchestra. Accept no substitutes. From the 1958 mono issue, which, in sonic terms, blows the CD reissue off the map. You'll never spend a more satisfying 13 minutes and 39 seconds at this blog:
Lincoln Portrait (Copland, 1942), Andre Kostelanetz, conducting the New York Philharmonic; Carl Sandburg, narrator. 1958, from Columbia LP.
Lee
Copland, describing his piece in 1943, wrote: "I worked with musical materials of my own, with the exception of two songs of the period: the famous Camptown Races and a ballad that was first published in 1840 under the title The Pesky Sarpent but is better known today as Springfield Mountain. In neither case is the treatment a literal one. The tunes are used freely, in the manner of my use of cowboy songs in Billy the Kid.
The composition is roughly divided into three sections. In the opening section I wanted to suggest something of the mysterious sense of fatality that surrounds Lincoln's personality. Also, near the end of that section, something of his gentleness and simplicity of spirit. The quick middle section briefly sketches in the background of the times he lived in. This merges into the concluding section where my sole purpose was to draw a simple but impressive frame about the words of Lincoln himself." (That is what he said. That is what Aaron Copland said....)
This 1958 recording is, by far, the best one I've heard. When it comes to the Lincoln Portrait, Carl Sandburg is the narrator, Kostelanetz the conductor, and the NY Philharmonic the orchestra. Accept no substitutes. From the 1958 mono issue, which, in sonic terms, blows the CD reissue off the map. You'll never spend a more satisfying 13 minutes and 39 seconds at this blog:
Lincoln Portrait (Copland, 1942), Andre Kostelanetz, conducting the New York Philharmonic; Carl Sandburg, narrator. 1958, from Columbia LP.
Lee
Sunday, February 19, 2006
Female Voices, Part 5: Rosie, The Paulette Sisters
Two years before the Fifth Dimension had a big hit with the song (and a year after Keely Smith recorded it for Atlantic), Rosemary Clooney came out with her version of Burt Bacharach and Hal David's One Less Bell to Answer. I'm amazed by how much it sounds like the 1970 version to come. Clooney's voice was a little too croony for such a song (too-croony Clooney?), but she's always wonderful to hear:
One Less Bell to Answer (David--Bacharach), Rosemary Clooney. Arranged and Conducted by Shorty Rogers, 1968. Dot 17100.
And here are three by The Paulette Sisters (the who? you ask), who remind my ears of The Chordettes, though their harmonies weren't as tight. Two of the titles are less than P.C. by today's judgment, especially Sui Sin Fa, which was cowritten by big band leader Larry Clinton. But such material was dirt-common in the early 1950s--Flower Drum Song was still six years away, after all. And it's kind of charming, really. And Kalamazoo to Timbuktu, whose title strikes me as kind of cute, probably raises issues of location sensitivity, or something. And the chanting in the background is definitely not-correct. But it's a dang catchy ditty. At any rate, it was cowritten by the very talented Alec Wilder, a songwriter and composer whose superior jazz concert pieces have unfortunately taken a back seat to Raymond Scott's more mass-appeal titles in the same vein and of the same era. Artier efforts always suffer that fate, do they not?
Sui Sin Fa (Dees--Schelb--L. Clinton), The Paulette Sisters with Larry Clinton and His Orchestra, 1952. From Columbia 45.
The Glow-Worm (L. Robinson--Lincke), The Paulette Sisters and Dick Style with Larry Clinton and His Orchestra, 1952. From Columbia 45.
Kalamazoo to Timbuktu (Wilder--Barer--M. Brown), The Paulette Sisters with Mitch Miller and His Orch, 1951.
Female voices for your Sunday-before-President's-Day.
Lee
One Less Bell to Answer (David--Bacharach), Rosemary Clooney. Arranged and Conducted by Shorty Rogers, 1968. Dot 17100.
And here are three by The Paulette Sisters (the who? you ask), who remind my ears of The Chordettes, though their harmonies weren't as tight. Two of the titles are less than P.C. by today's judgment, especially Sui Sin Fa, which was cowritten by big band leader Larry Clinton. But such material was dirt-common in the early 1950s--Flower Drum Song was still six years away, after all. And it's kind of charming, really. And Kalamazoo to Timbuktu, whose title strikes me as kind of cute, probably raises issues of location sensitivity, or something. And the chanting in the background is definitely not-correct. But it's a dang catchy ditty. At any rate, it was cowritten by the very talented Alec Wilder, a songwriter and composer whose superior jazz concert pieces have unfortunately taken a back seat to Raymond Scott's more mass-appeal titles in the same vein and of the same era. Artier efforts always suffer that fate, do they not?
Sui Sin Fa (Dees--Schelb--L. Clinton), The Paulette Sisters with Larry Clinton and His Orchestra, 1952. From Columbia 45.
The Glow-Worm (L. Robinson--Lincke), The Paulette Sisters and Dick Style with Larry Clinton and His Orchestra, 1952. From Columbia 45.
Kalamazoo to Timbuktu (Wilder--Barer--M. Brown), The Paulette Sisters with Mitch Miller and His Orch, 1951.
Female voices for your Sunday-before-President's-Day.
Lee
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