Greetings! This is a follow-up to this 2018 post, whose link I just returned to life: Early fake hits
I'm in the process of reviving earlier links, but it's slow going, of course. I had a time finding the zip file for the above post, as I had stored it carelessly on my hard drive--it was in a folder within a folder, and the main folder title didn't tell me much. But I found it, nevertheless. Yee ha.
Today's tracks--all fake hits of the non-rock and roll type--span the years 1948 to 1956, with an emphasis on the early 1950s. Let me say for the record (no pun intended), that restoring acoustical 78s is a waltz in the park compared to pulling sound out of these things. Reasons include the lousy quality of the cheap-label vinyl and shellac, the less than loving care from past owners (folks who bought Tops, Varsity, and Waldorf discs probably didn't own top-of-the-line hi-fi sets), and, in the case of Eli Oberstein's Varsity label, dreadful engineering. The Varsity 78s, even after the recording curves are tweaked, sound muddy as heck and... well, muddy. Rescuing the sound on these requires two or three levels of correction. But it's always a nice feeling to end up with passable Varsity files. I can't say it's the nicest feeling in the world, but it's better than a boot in the keister.
These sides are great fun, including the misfire that opens the set (an awful cover of Tony Bennett's Until Yesterday), with the performances--other than the first one--ranging from competent to much better than we have any right to expect. The latter category would have to include the two amazing Les Paul-Mary Ford knockoffs on Tops (I like that phrase), The World Is Waiting for the Sunshine (brilliantly parodied on Capitol by Stan Freberg) and Tiger Rag. I would have assumed the cheapo labels would have avoided the challenge of trying to copy Paul's multi-layered sound. And I would have been wrong.
Knockoffs on Tops. That almost sounds like the name of a cove in Scotland or something. "I'm writing from the Knockoff on Tops. How are things in Zanesville, Ohio?"
Anyway, we also have two Leroy Anderson numbers from the era when his ingenious instrumentals were jukebox items--Blue Tango and Syncopated Clock (Varsity omitted the "The"). I ripped the former from an LP but pretended it was from the original 45 issue, so don't tell anyone. (It's our little secret.) And we get musically solid imitations of Secret Love, Be My Life's Companion, Wheel of Fortune, and Till We Two Are One. That last title, amazingly, is as good as the Georgie Shaw original on Decca. Who was this Wayne Sherwood guy? Why didn't Tops use him more often? He was fabulous. (Hm. He has seven matches at Discogs. That's too bad. He deserves more!)
The possibly less familiar hits of yesteryear include Until, a hit for Tommy Dorsey whose lyrics are much like those of the similarly titled Till of 1957 (but far less moving), and 1948's Love Somebody, a hit for Doris Day with Buddy Clark. Also, Just Reminiscing, which was recorded (or at released) in 1949 by Ray Noble, Jo Stafford, and Jack Fina. A Cash Box ads lists our Varsity label version (by Barbara Brown) along with the others, which seems to support my theory that cheap knockoffs, at least in the early days of the practice, were seen as a normal part of the market. It wasn't until rock and roll--and the notion of a correct or definitive version of a song--that cheap knockoffs started to seem anachronistic. And hilarious. But, as I've noted before, I personally believe the evolution of the definitive version concept was more gradual than people think. Maybe I should have typed "cultural trope" instead of "concept," just to sound learned. And have people say, "Wow, he must know his stuff." Terms like "cultural tropes" make conjecture sound like fact. You always want to sound like you know what you're talking about. Anything else is bad form.
Fake Perry Como, Doris Day, Guy Mitchell, Tony Bennett, Frankie Laine, Mantovani, Kay Starr, and Les and Mary. Why limit the fun to fake Elvis, Little Richard, Silhouettes, and Frankie Avalon?
To the music....
DOWNLOAD: More early fakes--1948-1956
Until Yesterday--Art Rouse w. Herbie Layne's Orch. (Top Tunes 4-1007; 1954)
Charmaine--The Hal Lomen Orch. (Tops 313--45 rpm)
Jealousy (Jalousie)--Stewart Rose w. the Hal Lomen Orch. (Tops 299--45 rpm)
Belle, Belle, My Liberty Belle (Bob Merrill)--Bud Roman and the Toppers, the Freddy Laine Orch. (Tops 299--45 rpm)
Because of You--Burd Roman w. the Freddy Laine Orch. (Same)
Wringle Wrangle--Dave Burgess and the Toppers (Tops R302--45 rpm; prob. 1956)
Blue Tango (Leroy Anderson)--The Hal Lomen Orch. (Tops 322--45 rpm)
Syncopated Clock (Leroy Anderson)--Elliot Everett and His Orch. (Royale 322--78 rpm)
Tiger Rag--The Toppers w. the Les Morgan Quartet (Tops 318--78 rpm)
Until--Johnny Frank and Barbara Brown (Varsity 125--78 rpm; 1949)
Just Reminiscing--Barbara Brown with Orchestra (Same)
Be My Life's Companion--Mimi Martel w. the Hal Lomen Orch. (Tops 317--45 rpm)
Lavender Blue (Dilly Dilly)--Tyler Duo w. Orchestra (Varsity 124--78 rpm; prob. 1949)
Till We Two Are One--Wayne Sherwood w. the Toppers, Lew Raymond Orch. (Tops 392--45 rpm)
Make Love To Me--Gayle Larson w. Lew Raymond and His Orch. (Tops 392--45 rpm)
Secret Love--Gayle Larson w. Lew Raymond and His Orch. (Tops 391--45 rpm)
Wheel of Fortune--Mimi Martel w. the Les Morgan Orch. (Tops 318--78 rpm)
Hold Me, Thrill Me, Kiss Me--Betty Harris w. Enoch Light and His Orch. (Waldorf Record Corp. A114)
The Roving Kind--Bud Roman w. the Tops Choristers and Hal Lester's Orch. (Tops 272--78 rpm)
The World Is Waiting for the Sunrise--Mimi Martel w. Freddy Laine Orch. (Tops R106--78 rpm)
Maybe You'll Be There (Gallop-Bloom)--The Varsity Orchestra, Vocals by Frank and Chorus (Varsity 102--78 rpm; 1948)
Love Somebody--Barbara and Frank w. Orchestra (Same)
Forever and Ever--Barbara Brown w. Chorus and Orch. (Varsity 135--78 rpm; 1949)
Red Roses for a Blue Lady--Johnny Frank and Orchestra (Same)
Lee
17 comments:
Thanks, Lee - nice material.
When did the fakes start? Were there knock-offs going back to early cheap labels like the dime store variety?
Great!
Hi, Buster. Well, that's the sixty-four thousand dollar question (had to look up the quote). The Hit of the Week recordings could be regarded as the earliest fake hits, but I don't count them as such, because they pretty much announced their "fake" status, in the same way "Your Hit Parade" did. I might be splitting hairs, but a fake hit recording, to me at least, is one which pretends to be legit. It doesn't announce itself as a copycat or generic recording--it pretends to be the real deal, only cheaper. The notion is that you're getting "the hits" at a lower price. The artists giving you the hits--that's not an issue. What counts are the hits, not the people (or label) providing them.
Of course, someone could challenge my take by citing those LPs which include qualifiers like "as sung by..." under the titles (Alshire did that, I think). But I would argue that "as sung by..." essentially means "as good as." I think it goes even further--as in, why spend more for Elvis on RCA when you can get Elvis for less? That's not remotely logical, because a record is either by Elvis or it isn't, but, as a selling tactic, it taps into an area of the brain that doesn't run on logic. "Hey, I can get this for less" is the main message, and it overrides everything else. I think these labels knew exactly what they were doing in that regard. When you're operating on the margins of an industry, you have to know how to hawk your wares, because the margin for failure is almost nonexistent.
I believe this also applies to the "...of the week"-type qualifiers used by some cheapies in the record titles or even the label names (e.g., the Today's Records label, or Audition's "This Week's Pop Hits"). That would seem to be announcing that the offerings are counterfeits, but again I think the message was, "You're getting this week's hits, only cheaper than if you go with those unreasonably high-priced labels." The buyer checks his wallet, and that's where the thought process ends.
And the jacket designs are all people dancing in front of a jukebox (on which the major label hits would be playing, not these), and where any word or phrase that could function as a disclaimer is rendered in smaller font. It's like "Blah, blah, blah, HITS. Blah, blah, blah." It reminds me of the hilarious George Carlin bit, "Cosmetics, sundries, DRUGGGGGGGS."
(Continued) So, if my basic take is valid, then the starting point for the fakes would be post-WWII, as represented here. So far, 1948 is the earliest fake-hit year I've been able to determine. Postwar makes sense, because the economy was making a slow climb, and indie labels were booming. Perfect environment for Varsity, Tops, and the rest to sneak in. The Cash Box ad I mentioned is a wonderful find (my thanks to the folks digitizing these things), because it seems to confirm my feeling that the fakes were initially accepted as simply part of the market. Business as usual. It was only later that people started going, "What ARE these thing?" Because the original function of the things had been forgotten, and by then they were operating sort of against the market instead of with it. There's a parallel in what happened with easy listening or light concert music--by the 1950s, with the LP boom, mood music LPs took up a huge portion of the market, as you and I know, and so the critics--who wanted ordinary buyers to go for Bach and Stravinsky-- were pretty pissed. And they wrote off these offshoots of light concert music as pap for folks unable to appreciate genuine art music. All they would have had to do was research the subject a bit, and they'd have discovered that the stuff had 19th-(if not 18th-)century roots. But they were looking at the things from a current, prejudiced perspective. Kosty was crap, not because of what his music was, but because of what it wasn't. Having said that, I do remember seeing an old review from a major mag (High Fidelity, maybe?) praising a Kosty LP ("Gypsy Passion"), so, like all generalizations, mine has exceptions. In fact, I recall one of the major mags PRAISING the first Mitch Miller "Sing Along" LP. That stunned me, and still does. I'd have thought the critics would skewer that series.
Gimpiero,
Thanks!
I forget what I was going to say...
But, those brown cardboard hit-of-the-week 78s from the 30s (I think) wouldn't fall into your fake hit category then? They're just another of the dozen or so cover versions that came out of every new song in the early days of recorded music? They're still being recorded by an artist that no one is likely to recognize, and they're selling at a price point that the mainstream industry can't (or won't) reach.
But, to my mind, they were announcing themselves as cheap knock-offs. But I could be splitting hairs--and I probably am. But the eight-versions-of-a-single-hit phenomenon was more a postwar thing, far as I know. By that time, you had a good number of major labels, which was not the case in the Whiteman/Waring days or the early swing era.
I do want to avoid the common fallacy of defending a claim by revising it as I go. There's a natural urge to do that. It may simply be that the hit-of-the-week 78s were early fake hits. And that they failed to last because the economy had tanked, and because there were fewer major players. The postwar period gave the fake-hits practice an ideal environment in which to thrive. Yeah, I could go with that.
Don't cheap records go back to at least the 20s, with dime-store labels like Romeo? I just don't have any feel for how they chose their repertoire. I believe in some cases they were just recycling masters from other labels with the performers under pseudonyms.
Yes, and pre-1920s, too. Climax and Oxford come to mind--I think both reused Columbia masters--and, in the case of Oxford, Zonophone masters, too. And, during WWII, Eli Oberstein had a label called The Hit Record, which I'm sure you've seen--some of its tracks were cheaper editions of current hits, so it's sort of a forerunner to the postwar fakes. Or maybe I simply need to ditch the "postwar" part of my narrative!
It occurs to me if, for our definition of "fake hits," we simply go with lower-priced labels that provided cheaper versions of the hits, we have examples like Okeh label bands doing "Whispering" and "Avalon" in 1920. And there were probably pre-1920 examples, too. And I'm betting that the phase that I've described as starting just after WWII actually had its start five to ten years earlier. For instance, there are the two cheapie versions of "Der Fuehrer's Face" on The Hit Record and Victory labels.
My definition seemed a little pat to me--and a little too exclusive. Happy for the input.
I posted one of those Hit Records recently - a cover of Suddenly It's Spring by Timmy Ryan with Blue Barron's orchestra.
At least Blue Barron was a real person...I think.
He was - and so was Tommy Ryan (not Timmy - that was a typo).
Maybe that's a better definition then? Recordings by people who don't seem to exist. Clearly many of the things Lee shares around here are by names that appear nowhere else. Many artists use pseudonyms or stage names, but these are clearly made up names often applied to different artists and different recordings. Or maybe that's something else entirely...
The only problem there is that the Enoch Light labels used real names, many of them former big band singers who were, at the moment, out of fashion--Bob Eberly, Artie Malvin, etc. Tops used real names in the early days, though their later credits look very made-up. But Mimi Martel, for instance, was for real. But made-up names seem to have become the general rule as the 50s progressed, for reasons unknown to me. Maybe they were session musicians breaking union rules, and so they wanted to remain anonymous. We could include it as a feature of later fakes. Also, there was the charming tradition of giving credit to nobody--the Oberstein labels were keen on that. I read that Oberstein's labels had the non-singing portions--band and orchestras--recorded in Europe to avoid having to pay royalties. Which would mean the singers were dubbed over pre-recorded backgrounds. Weird.
This would be a whole 'nother bowl of poi, BUT I would love to see someone (you seem busy enough already) explain the plethora of "generic" Hawaiian stuff that arrived in the wake of statehood (1959). Record labels just made up names for acts to keep selling the same hula-rity over and over. Found an album today that credited Terry McKee and His Band on the cover, then Luke Leilani and His Hawaiian Rhythm on the label. Looked it up and found the same stuff out there by Harry Kaapuni and His Royal Polynesians. Involved labels include Diplomat, Promenade, Piroutte, Spin-o-Rama, and many more. It's a veritable Pacific Ocean of aloha.
Sounds like you've entered the cheap-label vortex! Diplomat, Promenade, and Pirouette were all the same outfit (Synthetic Plastics Co.), and Spin-o-rama was a Premier Albums, Inc. label. What you're describing is standard cheap-label procedure. These outfits didn't hesitate to offer the same tracks over and over, often with different names. Same for entire LPs. I'm not sure who the worst offender was, though I'm tempted to cite SPC. Does the music you bought even sound Hawaiian? If so, you're ahead of the game....
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