"Lookout Mountain," "Shadows of the Night"--and more!

First up, your everyday ghost-of-a-deceased-husband-rising-from-the-grave-to-punish-a-couple-of-"hopeless-lovers" song. Voodoo is the subject of this charming family fare, and Chuck Miller is the excellent singer-pianist. I used to have biographical information on Miller someplace, and I wish I knew where. I recall that his career went back to the big band days. If so, not unusual for an early rock and roller. It only seems unusual because over-21 artists like Miller were long ago written out of r&r history to help along the myth that youngsters invented the music. News to the late Jesse Stone, I'm sure. Anyway, here's Lookout Mountain.

Which I forgot to upload. Dang it.

Now it's ready:

Lookout Mountain (Seymour Lazar), Chuck Miller, 1956.

What a charming song. The flip of Boogie Blues. Record-buyers everywhere were saying, "What the heck...?"

And here's more feel-good fare--from 1952, Billy Ward and the Dominoes with The Bells. Lead vocal by Edgar Allen Poe, of course. I mean, Clyde McPhatter.

The Bells, Billy Ward and the Dominoes, featuring Clyde McPhatter, 1952.

We follow the expert crying of Clyde McPhatter with the expert drumming of Lynn Easton, who also wrote the selection we're about to fear (er, hear)--1963's Haunted Castle, the flip side of Louie, Louie. Castle's lyrics are much easier to make out than Louie's, mainly because there aren't any. Haunted-garage rock at its spooky best:

Haunted Castle (Lynn Easton), The Kingsmen, 1963.

Remember Dark Shadows? I do. I was one of the Boomers who ran home from school to catch the adventures of Barnabas, Quentin, Chris Jennings, and Dr. Julia Hoffman. Which is something I could write off to youthful idiocy, except that I watched the series all over again when Sci-Fi recently reshowed it. What can I say?

Quentin's Theme, from Dark Shadows, was a big hit in 1969 for Charles Randolph Grean (that name, again!). This was the tune that werewolf-playboy Quentin Collins played on his cylinder phonograph and which the Dark Shadows engineers had EQ'd the low frequencies out of in the hopes that it would sound acoustical. Which it did, almost. We're going to hear the vocal version of that theme, featuring words by Grean himself and a vocal by one Robin Grean (daughter?). This is Shadows of the Night.

Shadows of the Night (Robert Cobert-Charles R. Grean), Robin Grean w. The Charles Randolph Grean Sounde, 1969.


















Five out of five monsters listen to The Charles Randolph Grean Sounde.

Lee

Raymond Scott in Perspective, Part 5 (Simulpost)

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

More spooky spins

We begin with 1960's The Face from Outer Space, performed and co-written by Jeff (Sugar, Sugar; Tell Laura I Love Her) Barry, best known as one half of the Barry-Greenwich songwriting team. We ho-oh-oh-oh-ope you en-en-en-joy-woy this siiiiiiiiide:

The Face from Outer Space (Barry-Raleigh), Jeff Barry, 1960.

Almost a companion to Merv Griffin's Screamin' Meemies from Planet X, when you think about it. (Actually, it doesn't pay to think very hard about these novelties....)

And here's Roy Clark (Roy Clark??) with Spooky Movies, sort of a pairing of Money and Western Movies. Cool sound effects, with the scream sounding like something left over from Merv's House of Horrors.

Spooky Movies (Steve Stone), Roy Clark, 1963.

And Drac is back with two toothsome tracks--Monster Goose Rhymes and the tale of the Surf Monster, the latter originally recorded by the famous surf duo Jan and Scream.

Monster Goose Rhymes, Dracula (Gene Moss), 1964.

Surf Monster, Dracula (Gene Moss), 1964.

Monster geese, surf monsters, and faces from outer space--plenty of critters to watch out for this Halloween season. And more to come....

Lee

Halloween with Merv: "House of Horrors" and "Screamin' Meemies from Planet X"

Two terrific Halloween novelties by singer/game-show creator and host/hotelier Merv Griffin. We begin with House of Horrors, a 1962 classic featuring orchestral backing by Charles (The Thing, Never Been Kissed) Grean. Griffin's Lugosi shtick is Bela well-done, and the lively, clever arrangement quotes Chopin (Funeral March) and Camille Saint-Saens (Danse Macabre). Kind of a Halloween art novelty, really.

House of Horrors , Merv Griffin, orch. conducted by Charles Grean, 1962.

Screamin' Meemies from Planet X lives up to the weirdness of its title, and then some. Bachelors, beware: "They've got no men and they're nervous wrecks, They're the screamin' meemies from Planet X." Their plan: to swoop down and grab you. I just might stay inside today. (Darn, I forgot--I have to cut the grass! Uh-oh. If the ragweed doesn't get me, the screamin' meemies will.)

The Screamin' Meemies from Planet X, Merv Griffin, 1961.


















Merv, starring in I Was a Teenage Band Singer (1951).

Frank and friends, "The Jolly Green Giant" and the "Tennessee Hill-Billy Ghost"

"I'm the real Frankenstein monster!" "No, me!" "They're lying. Don't believe them!" "Who are these guys??" "Somebody call Igor."


Gene Moss, as Dracula, returns with Frankenstein (Clementine) and The New Frankenstein and Johnny Song, both from 1964.

Frankenstein (Clementine), Dracula (Gene Moss), 1964.

The New Frankenstein and Johnny Song, Dracula (Gene Moss), 1964.

I love the line, "Oh, my Doctor Frankenstein." And, of course, Frankenstein was the doctor, not the monster. Originally, that is. Over time, however, Frankie became the monster. Just as, over time, the doctor's voice (in comedy skits and on records) became Boris Karloff's, or an imitation thereof. Karloff, of course, had played the monster in the first three Universal Frankenstein films. If you're confused at this point, join the club.

And here are two of the big guy's buddies, The Jolly Green Giant and the Tennessee Hill-Billy Ghost--the latter sort of a musical version of the former. As a dubious bonus, we've included the Hit label cover version of Giant, as performed by the Chords--not the Sh-Boom singers, of course, though that would be pretty cool.

The Jolly Green Giant (Lynn Easton), The Kingsmen, 1964.

The Jolly Green Giant, The Chords, 1964.

Tennessee Hill-Billy Ghost, Red Foley, w. Anita Kerr Singers, 1951.

I love the Anita Kerr Singers' backing vocals on that last track! They also showed up on Columbia in the early '50s, backing George Morgan, for example. (The roots of Countrypolitan?)

Red Foley, Anita Kerr, Drac, The Chords, and the Kingsmen for you Halloween. A line-up you'll encounter only at... MYPWHAE.













"How come no one told us Halloween was coming??"



Lee