The French Line

Movies in 3D are not new - there was a short vogue for the format in the 50s. They had the right idea back then, too. Why waste screen time on cute cartoon creatures or spurting blood when you can have Jane Russell's bazooms thrusting out at you?

And that was one of the main attractions of the RKO musical called The French Line, from 1953. As a reviewer on IMDb, who has seen the 3D version, writes, "When the posters outside of the theatre proclaimed 'JR in 3D!', they really meant what they said. During several musical numbers, when she would turn from profile and face the camera with her chest thrust out: watch out! You almost felt you should move away from the screen."

Of course, the soundtrack LP has no such advantages, and we are left with the vocalizations of Russell and Gilbert Roland. While both of them can sing, neither of them is a singer, if you catch the distinction. The songs here are by Josef Myrow (music) and the team of Ralph Blane and Robert Wells (lyrics). We have encountered Myrow here before with his songs for I Love Melvin. Blane is known for many films (Meet Me in St. Louis) and shows (Best Foot Forward). Wells' greatest hit was "The Christmas Song."

The results from this distinguished group are pleasant if hardly compelling. The best tune is probably "Wait Till You See Paris," but in this item Roland manages to be colorless and overwrought at the same time.

Oh well - it's a fairly rare LP, and I imagine connoisseurs of this kind of thing will enjoy the experience.

Note (July 2024) - This has now been remastered in ambient stereo.

LINK

Digression No. 25

I was very pleased that this blog was named one of the best sites for classical music downloads by Nick Morgan of the magazine Classical Recordings Quarterly (previously Classic Record Collector). In fact, Big 10-Inch was the only blog named that isn't exclusively devoted to classics. Most of the other sites named have been cited here before - including Vinyl Fatigue, Serenata in Vano, The Music Parlor, Neal's Historical Recordings, Quartier des Archives, Bill Anderson's posts at RMCR, Sacqueboutier's at symphonyshare, and Bryan Bishop's shares, now available at his new blog, The Shellackophile. If it had been me, I would have added Fred's Random Classics, Satyr's 78 Toeren en LP's, and Pablo's El baul del coleccionista. (Hope I am not forgetting anyone.)

Speaking of Satyr's and Pablo's blogs, I want to mention that they continue to post wonderful Cor de Groot recordings for everyone to enjoy. Pablo has offered a Chopin recital and Satyr has presented Beethoven's second and third piano concertos (with the VSO and Otterloo). Highly recommended.

1917 record cover

Switching subjects - longtime readers may remember a 2008 discussion of the supposed "first record cover design" - a 78 album of music by Richard Rodgers with a cover by Alex Steinweiss. At that time, both your host and a reader named Jeff expressed extreme skepticism about the claim that this was indeed the first such cover, citing items in our own collections that predate the Columbia cover. It turns out we were quite right. The 2010 Association for Recorded Sound Collections (ARSC) conference presented a long and profusely illustrated talk by Mike Biel that explodes the claim that Steinweiss was first. Designed covers go back to 1917 (above right), and there were literally hundreds of them issued before the first Steinweiss cover - several of them in my own basement. My friend Mel mentioned a Pinocchio album that he had as a child that included an integrated design not just of the cover but of the end papers, record pockets and labels. This is one of Biel's exhibits. You can find both the recording of his fascinating talk and a slide show with hundreds of images on the ARSC site. I urge anyone interested in the topic to seek it out.

The ARSC presentations for the past few years are on line, and many of them are fascinating. I listened to Peter Muir's discussion of the early blues industry, including a convincing demonstration of how a good bit of the musical content of W.C. Handy's St. Louis Blues of 1913 was borrowed from a 1908 ragtime song. There are many other worthwhile subjects - just the thing for a record nut!

Canta Maya - From Berlin to Bachelor Pad

We'll never know what path led prewar Berlin cabaret artist Canta Maya to Morris Levy's Roulette records in 1958, but this LP is the result.

There's not much background available on Canta Maya (born Elizabeth Rimmer in Alsace). While we can place her in 1930s Berlin as a singer and perhaps a courtesan - one who was called the "Venus of the flesh" (not sure what that means, but it sounds good!) - it's likely that she was not a big star because she does not appear in recent books chronicling the cabaret scene of the time.

During the war years she emigrated to a German exile community in Mexico, but does not turn up again until she made this one-off record for Roulette in 1958. Finally, she resurfaces years later as an acquaintance of the artist Tamara de Lempicka, again in Mexico.

Canta Maya in Berlin

On the evidence here, Canta Maya was a kind of Teutonic Eartha Kitt, or perhaps a Marlene Dietrich who actually could sing. She is far more intense than most exponents of the bachelor pad genre. She puts across such kitsch as "I'm a Kitten" seemingly without irony, and complete with a glottal purr that's closer to a growl. This kitten seems more odd than sexy. Her version of Ray Noble's "Good Night Sweetheart" sounds desperate - not an effect the urbane Noble was aiming for, I'd guess.

Even so, Canta Maya certainly was a skillful singer who knew how to get the effects she was aiming for, and this record is worth hearing for more than its curiosity value.

This is in response to a request from my friend Jeronimo.

REMASTERED VERSION - MARCH 2015

Sweet Smell of Success

In a small tribute to the actor Tony Curtis, who died last week, I thought I might upload the soundtrack to one of his films. For some reason, Curtis appeared in a great number of movies that had notable scores, including Trapeze, The Vikings, Kings Go Forth, Spartacus, Taras Bulba, Paris - When It Sizzles, and others. Here is 1957's Sweet Smell of Success, which featured Curtis in his first "serious" role, and composer Elmer Bernstein in his best swaggering jazz mode.

Life Magazine ad

The ironically titled Sweet Smell was actually a particularly poisonous film noir tale of power and corruption - a genre that flourished in the supposedly placid and conformist 50s.

Whether you think Curtis was effective in such dramas or not, there is no doubt that he had a gift for farce, most notably in Billy Wilder's 1959 classic-in-drag, Some Like It Hot, in which Tony ends up with Marilyn Monroe and Jack Lemmon gets Joe E. Brown.

I think Elmer Bernstein is making his first appearance on this blog, unless my fallible memory and labelling system are both failing me. Bernstein has an enormous reputation among film music aficionados, although among the general public he doesn't have 1/100 of the reputation of his namesake Lenny - no relation. This is a relatively early score, and a particularly strong one.

I should point out that some of the music on the soundtrack was composed by jazz musicians Chico Hamilton and Fred Katz, who appeared in the film as part of Hamilton's quintet. Decca also released an LP of music from the film as performed by this group. The Hamilton quintet does not appear on this album, which features a studio group conducted by Bernstein. The back cover below has more information.