"Boneyard Shuffle" and "I Want to Bite Your Hand"

Today's Halloween selections are provided by Red Nichols and Dracula, both artists making their MYPWHAE debut. Nichols is one of my all-time favorite jazzmen, and Dracula is, fangs-down, my favorite vampire. Boneyard Shuffle, the Nichols selection, was one of the first '20s-jazz sides I ever heard--lucky me. The tune is by Hoagy Carmichael, the alto sax by Jimmy Dorsey, and the laid-back guitar by Eddie Lang. (Wish I knew who did the great bass slapping.) It would be a grave mistake to write this music off as mere "chamber jazz" (a term I just spotted on the Internet), i.e. as something other than true, blue, red-blooded, and authentic. Nonsense. This is jazz, through and through. If tight arranging and first-rank musicianship have no place in that musical form, we're all in trouble.

Boneyard Shuffle (Irving Mills-Hoagy Carmichael), Red Nichols and His Five Pennies (1926).

The tune is typical early Hoagy Carmichael: a stream of strains that pile up in an almost through-composed fashion, though not quite. Like everyone else, of course, Carmichael employed repeating sections, but his song forms were quite involved. If we don't notice as much, it's because of the masterful manner in which he merged his material.

Another song more "advanced" than the ear might first conclude, I Want to Hold Your Hand still sounds fresh after all these years, even in Gene Moss' fresh version thereof, I Want to Bite Your Hand. A very rare record: a horror novelty that's stupid AND funny at the same time. The Beatles, in a carotid vein. I mean, a parodic vein.

I Want to Bite Your Hand--Dracula (Gene Moss), 1964.

Bat-tastic. An injection of new blood into the Venom and McCountny heart-stopper--I mean, chart-topper. Thirteen weeks on the Rock'n'Ghoul Chop-forty slaylist.

(Hey, give me a stake! I mean, break. Vampire humor is supposed to suck.)

















Lee, writer of the MYPWHAE blogula.

Life before the ragtime revival of 1973, Part 3

We've discussed before how the American public was reintroduced to ragtime courtesy of the 1973 movie hit The Sting. This claim turns up everywhere, so it must be true. The "Life Before the Ragtime Revival of 1973" series exists to showcase some of the ragtime recordings people were listening to before they were reintroduced to ragtime.

Roaring 20's Rag (Ferris), Cutups with Stinewey Sam, 1962. (Flip side of Dr. Ben Basey, Tuba 8001.)

Whispering, The Phantom, from Capitol F3427 (recorded in Mexico City), 1956.

Five Foot Two, Eyes of Blue, The Phantom, from Capitol F3427 (recorded in Mexico City), 1956.

Luckily, ragtime was on its way, even if it was in no hurry to arrive. People, meanwhile, had to make do with ragtime. Somehow, they endured.

Lee

A Steve Allen Halloween: The Rockin' Ghost

Nobody, hardly, visits my Leeworks blog, the home of original keyboard works by me, Lee. Those who do tend to be either 1) me, 2) my e-friend Dave, or 3) probably those searching for idiot-savant "outsider" music to discover and pass along to their friends ("This music is 'great.' Wink, wink. Check it out. I wrote the guy to tell him how much I 'love' the stuff.") Hopefully, my site doesn't fit that bill. Still, seeing as how a lot of folks in the third category wouldn't know a canon from a cat running over the piano keys, I'm slightly surprised I'm not yet an "outsider" star. Maybe my ability to use music software disqualifies me.

From 1956, Archie Bleyer's orchestra and chorus perform Steve Allen and Ira Lee's The Rockin' Ghost. (Music--Allen, words--Lee, I'm guessing.) This was a minor hit, though it's mostly modal in nature (bad wordplay on "minor"), by virtue of the old I/#I gimmick, such as we hear in Love's version of Bacharach-David's My Little Red Book or the well-known "surf" tune Misirlou. That is, if we go by "major" vs. "minor" keys, The Rockin' Ghost is a "major-key" song, even though 9 out of 10 NPR music critics would label it "minor." And they'd be wrong. Nyah, nyah, nyah.

I like the funky organ sound, though I can't identify it--I'm no keyboard historian. The soulful organ and the jazzy bridge probably qualify this as exotica. Dunno. I do know that it's a nice song, and very well-done. (And, no, it doesn't rock--it swings, Fifties-style. Very NPR.)

The Rockin' Ghost (Steve Allen-Ira Lee) Archie Bleyer's Orchestra and Chorus, 1956. From 45.

Boo-ha-haaa!

Lee

"Old" files to go

At Fields on Fire, someone left a heartwarming comment which I thought I'd share:

"Anonymous said...
My compliments. I have enjoyed your Blog. You have so many interesting things to report, please keep up the good work.Did you know, that nearly all of us pay too much for their car insurance? That we are leaving a lot of money on the table by failing to compare properly the rates of all those different insurance companies?I've made a new Blog just about Cheaper Car Insurance. You are friendly invited to a visit and to learn more about this interesting topic.Thanks again and keep up the good work. The Car Insurance Guy from Cheaper Car Insurance"

I will keep up the good work. And I will continue to report interesting things. And, you know, he's right--nearly all of us DO pay too much for our car insurance. And all because we fail to check out the rates of other companies? We're a nation of lazy car-insurance shoppers. I'm so glad Anonymous left a link to his site. That was so thoughtful of him.

You know, I could have sworn I activated the Verification feature for that blog. What's up with that?

And while I'm saving money on my car insurance, I'll also be deleting MP3s from May and June, with the exception of "Roots of Elvis" files. Gotta clear room. My intention is to keep music files available for as long as possible, but they do pile up.

Just like car insurance rates. And all because we didn't consult with The Car Insurance Guy from Cheaper Car Insurance. There's a lesson there for all of us.

Lee

Halloween Promenade

Here are three Promenade-label cover versions of Halloween hits. (I don't use hip, hyphenated adjectives like "horror-themed," so please don't ask me to.) The titles are: Little Blue Man (the The dropped to save ink, apparently), Witch Doctor, and Dinner with Drac. These were hits for Betty Johnson, David Seville, and John Zacherle, respectfully. I mean, retrospectively. I mean....

For low-budget covers, these are pretty good, though no amount of effort (or lack thereof) could make Dinner with Drac funny. I can't account for why I dislike this record, since I'm a fan of awful humor. The awfuler, the better, usually. But this just doesn't make it. It leaves me cold--and not just because it's performed by a ghoul. I don't know. One man's horror-comedy is another man's horrible comedy, I guess. "Josh Logan," anyway, does a good imitation of Zacherle's bad shtick.

I prefer stupid records that are good, but "good-stupid" is impossible to define. Buchanan and Goodman are good-stupid. Dinner with Drac isn't. That's the best I can offer. (Q: When is stupid good? A: When it's good-stupid.) I suppose bad-stupid is better than stupid. But it's hard to say, ultimately. I have no idea what I'm babbling about.

Little Blue Man--Melody Jane, Promenade A-41 4, prob. 1958.

Witch Doctor (David Seville)--Josh Logan, Promenade A-41 4, prob. 1958.

Dinner with Drac--Josh Logan, Promenade A-41 4, prob. 1958.

Enjoy! Buwa-ha-haaaaa!


















Lee

A Roots-of-Raymond-Scott simulpost

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

A frightening Halloween photo

AIEEEEEEEEE!!!!

John Bolton, the first American ambassador to the United Nations not approved for that job by the Senate, must have been having a bad day when this photo was taken. Or maybe the camera was having a bad day. Almost makes you want to come as John Bolton for Halloween, except that you never want to make Halloween horror too real. It has to be pretend. This is too real-thing.

But I'm not here to poke fun at a politician who happens to be extremely unpleasant to look at. Rather, I'm here to convey shocking, shocking news. Hard to believe, but this super-duper macho neocon, a guy who's presently busy "ruffling feathers" at the United Nations, DID NOT SERVE IN COMBAT WHEN HIS OPPORTUNITY CAME TO DO SO. Repeat: Did NOT.

Can you believe it? Me, neither. But, here's what I found when I plugged "Bolton" and "Chickenhawk" into Google: "John Bolton--wimp. A Vietnam hawk who remained stateside." No way! But the Yale Daily News says: "Though Bolton supported the Vietnam War, he declined to enter combat duty, instead enlisting in the National Guard and attending law school after his 1970 graduation. 'I confess I had no desire to die in a Southeast Asian rice paddy,' Bolton wrote of his decision in the 25th reunion book. 'I considered the war in Vietnam already lost.'" (Thanks, Slate)

Luckily for Bolton, there were more than enough blue-collar types who couldn't wait to die in a Southeastern Asian rice paddy. "Me! Me! Take me! I want to get killed!" they cried, pushing ahead in line, eager to be sent out to lose their lives and/or youthful outlook in a war that made no fucking sense whatsoever. Because of them, Bolton was free to "decline" to enter combat duty.

Funny, the brothers of my best friend in high school didn't have the option of declining Vietnam duty. Two of the three were drafted--the third, or so the story goes, was spared that fate when he revealed he was gay. I don't know--you'd think there would have been a lot of guys using that line, if it worked. The two brothers made it back alive, but the younger of the two was so badly shaken up by his time in Vietnam that he went semi-nuts, skipping out on his wife and kids and becoming just generally weird. The last time I talked to him, he wasn't the same person.

So I'm glad Bolton didn't have to go. He might be living on the streets someplace, yelling things at cars as they pass by, instead of ruffling feathers in the U.N. Then again, he supported the war. Hm. Well, I guess you can support a war without actually supporting it. Worked for Cheney, Bush, and most of those other war-for-oil types. Wars for (but never fought by) the rich. God bless America.

And poor Cindy is labeled a left-wing nut for pointing out things that happen to be facts. The truth, however, knows no party. And, often, isn't one.

I think Bolton's last name should be spelled "Boltin'." After all, when others were serving, he was boltin' in the other direction.

Anyway, our musical selection is French composer Emil Waldteufel's famous The Skaters--Waltz of 1882. If you don't know the name, you'll know the music. The performance is a Hammond Organ/Novachord duet, and it's quite cool. In the Navy, my fellow sailors labeled easy duty as "skate" duty. Bolton been skating for years, so this waltz is for him:

The Skaters--Waltz (Waldteufel, 1882), Louise Welcher, Hammond Organ; Harry Campbell, Novachord, 1941.

Lee, who won't be coming as Bolton this year

The Naughty Ghost--Jan August

From 1955, a fun October-31st novelty side. Jan August, whose 1951 performance of Dizzy Fingers was nothing to swoon over, does a fine job here, and the special sound effects are excellent. I've been reading up on the use of the dominant seventh chord on the minor sixth of the scale (the main gimmick in this tune), and, apparently the chord is considered an augmented sixth chord in such cases. Far out. Not really a seventh chord, theoretically, but that's how my ears hear it. So, there.

Courtesy of The University of Texas at Austin's website, we learn that "Augmented sixth chords are chromatic variants of the subdominant." Which is how it functions in this tune, for sure. The augmented sixth chord originated in the era of counterpoint. "Since this chord's structure is unlike any other diatonic tonal chord, the properties we attribute to diatonic chords...do not apply to augmented sixth chords." And they sound unlike other diatonic tonal chords. They seem to hover in the air, in no particular hurry to land.

Kind of like, well... ghosts. Naughty or otherwise.

The Naughty Ghost, Jan August, 1955.

More to come, as always--including a cheap-label cover version of Dinner with Drac, and other sounds to make you (want to) scream.

Lee