Zadel Skolovsky, a Forgotten Virtuoso, Plays Milhaud

Today, two fascinating pieces by the French composer Darius Milhaud (1892-1974) - his popular and influential suite "Saudades do Brasil," in its original form for solo piano, and the Piano Concerto No. 4, in its first recording.

The pianist is Zadel Skolovsky, who commissioned the concerto and premiered it in 1949 with Charles Munch and the Boston Symphony. Milhaud himself conducts this recording, made with the French National Radio Orchestra in 1950.

Zadel Skolovsky

Skolovsky made very few recordings, but deserves to be remembered. In his autobiography, Milhaud termed him "an astonishing virtuoso," and so he shows himself to be in the performance of the concerto. The composer also was enthusiastic about Skolovsky's playing in the solo suite, telling the New York Times in 1952 that "This is the first time I've heard them played exactly as I want them to be done. I had to wait 40 years" [actually 30 - the suite dates from 1920-21].

Some background on the pianist. Born in Vancouver in 1916, he moved to LA at a young age. He studied at the Curtis Institute with Isabella Vengerova, later working as her assistant, and also took lessons from Leopold Godowsky. Skolovsky won the Naumburg Competition in 1939, which launched an active concert career; the download includes New York Times reviews dating from 1939 to 1968. He became a professor at Indiana University in 1975, and was professor emeritus from 1987. He died in Bethesda, Maryland in 2009.

Judging from the information on the Classical Discography site, the two Columbia LPs are the extent of Skolovsky's commercial recordings, with the exception of a 1955 Philips recording of Gershwin's Three Preludes, which I've been unable to locate. Those interested in the artist may want to check into a live performance of the Prokofiev Second Concerto with Munch and the NYPO that is available on the Laureate Conductor blog.

Darius Milhaud

Milhaud was an immensely prolific composer. The opposite of the tortured artist, music just poured out of him. He was a discipline of Erik Satie, and like that composer, he was influential in his time. "Saudades do Brasil," with its use of tango rhythms to portray the different districts of Rio de Janeiro (where Milhaud had a diplomatic post in 1917-18), has pre-echoes of both Copland and Gershwin in its songfulness and use of popular idioms.

In a 1948 article in the Saturday Review, Copland confessed that, "I became a Milhaud fan back in the early Twenties, when the composer was considered the enfant terrible of French music." Although Copland was writing about Milhaud's First Symphony in that article, his comments relate to the Piano Concerto as well: "Milhaud has a particular aptitude for suggesting the complexities of modern life, even at times embroiling himself in musical complexities." The concerto is at once dissonant and melodic, unruly and serene. Skolovsky's remarkable performance provides the thread that ties all these strands together.

Milhaud in action

For this post, I've combined the cleanest sections from my LP and a transfer found on Internet Archive. The sound is excellent in the "Saudades do Brasil," and the piano tone is good in the concerto, which favors Skolovsky's instrument over the orchestral backing. (Just as well; the band is raucous or wooly, depending on the section.) The Saudades recording comes from 1951.

The download includes reviews of the record from the New York Times, American Record Guide, the New Records, the Saturday Review and High Fidelity. Previous posts of Milhaud's music can be found here.

Stuart Foster with Tommy Dorsey, Part 2

This is the second half of our look at the complete Stuart Foster recordings with Tommy Dorsey. Both this and the first installment are courtesy of vocal aficionado Bryan Cooper, who was kind enough to compile all 50 titles for us.

Previously, we covered recordings from 1945 and 1946. Today, we pick up with some additional 1946 dates, then add the 1947 discs that were the last from Foster's stay in the Dorsey band. Those final recordings were on December 27, 1947, just a few days before the second American Federation of Musicians recording ban began.

Completing the 1946 Recordings

Our first selection comes from a July 1946 session that also produced "Gotta Get Me Someone to Love," the desperate-sounding tune that completed Part 1 of this survey. "That's My Home" is another one of the cowhand specialties that were popular then. Tunesmith Sid Robin's first hit was "Just Because," a 1938 country tune that was to become a massive hit for polka-meister Frankie Yankovic in 1948.

In August, Foster and Dorsey produced "There Is No Breeze (To Cool the Flame of Love)," from composer Alex Alstone and lyricists Roger Bernstein and André Tabet, the team that produced the successful "Symphony" in 1945. "There Is No Breeze" did not start the charts on fire, but even so it is a pleasant item, here in an excellent, romantic performance.

The B-side of "There Is No Breeze" was "This Time," a nice if non-memorable Paul Weston tune here in a sterling performance by Foster that is thankfully not undermined by Dorsey's sluggish tempo.

By this time, Dorsey and crew had moved lock, stock arrangements and trombones to Hollywood, where Tommy and brother Jimmy were starring in The Fabulous Dorseys. Tommy made only one commercial recording of music from the film: "To Me," an Allie Wrubel-Don George piece. It was sung by Janet Blair in the pic, but here is done by Foster. Blair, a former Hal Kemp vocalist, played a singer in the film.

Tommy Dorsey, Janet Blair, Stuart Foster

Foster appears in the film; he gets to play it straight throughout "Marie" in the face of that horrifying invention of the time, the band vocal. The whole film is on YouTube (see below); Foster's vocal starts at about 1:12:55. In the clip, you will see a reaction shot from Dorsey's mother, played by Sara Allgood, who within 20 years had gone from the lead in O'Casey's Juno and the Paycock to beaming at "son" Tommy as the band shouts, "Livin' in a great big way, MAMA!"

From The Fabulous Dorseys, we move on to another Irish clan, the McLonergans, and two songs from the splendid Yip Harburg-Burton Lane score for Finian's Rainbow. Foster's first item from the show is "How Are Things in Glocca Morra?" The tempo is too slow, but still the performance has a lovely opening with a muted Dorsey, and a good vocal. Foster plays it straight; no dialect, thank goodness.

"Glocca Morra" is a wistful song, but "When I'm Not Near the Girl I Love" is both wry and sly. Too bad that Dorsey takes it much too slow, missing the humor in the piece.

The 1947 Recordings

For the first 1947 session, Foster tried his hand with two exceptional Cahn-Styne songs from Sinatra's latest film, It Happened in Brooklyn: "Time After Time" and "It Happens Every Spring." As was often the case, the tempo is too slow on both tunes. While these both have their moments, "Time After Time" needs more ardor and "It Happens" more snap.

Also from this January date came one of the less successful classical adaptations of the time - "A Thousand and One Nights" from Rimsky-Korsakov's Scheherazade. Both the arrangement and lyrics are undistinguished, but Foster and Dorsey do what they can.

The bandleader and singer were back in form for two songs recorded later in January. "My Love for You" has a pleasing melody that is right in Foster's sweet spot. But the better item is "Spring Isn't Everything," one terrific song, with a superior melody by Harry Warren and lyrics by Ralph Blane. It was written for Summer Holiday (filmed in 1946 but not released until 1948) but apparently not used. IMDb suggests there is an outtake with Walter Huston gargling the tune.

Acknowledging that the business was not what it once had been, Dorsey broke up his band early in 1947. But he would soon be back in business, and Foster would be with him.

After a several-month hiatus from recording, Dorsey returned in July with his new band and new vocal accomplices for Stuart Foster. They were the Town Criers, comprising four siblings: Elva, Lucy Ann, Gordon and Vernon Polk. Like the Sentimentalists, the Criers were a highly accomplished group, who already had worked with such bands as Kay Kyser and Bob Crosby.

The Town Criers flank Kay Kyser: Vernon, Elva, Lucy Ann, Gordon

After the Town Criers disbanded in 1948, Lucy Ann went on to become vocalist with Les Brown, and to make quite a few recordings. Our own Bryan Cooper, the savant behind these Foster-Dorsey posts, recently produced a superb two-CD set of all Lucy Ann's non-LP recordings. More information is here; you can order from Amazon.

Foster's first effort with the Polks was "I'll Be There," an OK Sam Stept song, taken (again) too slowly. Stept had had a recent success with "Don't Sit Under the Apple Tree."

Also from that July 1 session came "The Old Piano Tuner," "Deep Valley" and "Just an Old Love of Mine."

"The Old Piano Tuner" (any relation to "The Old Lamplighter" or "The Old Master Painter"?), is more light textured and spirited than some of the other songs in this compilation.

"Deep Valley" is taken from Max Steiner music from the movie of same name, with the addition of Charles Tobias lyrics. (I'm not sure if it was used in the film as such.) Deep Valley has quite the plot, in which Ida Lupino falls in love with an inmate workin' on a chain gang. The movie may have been melodramatic, but the song itself is more lively than much of the fare that Dorsey gave Foster to sing.

"Just an Old Love of Mine" is one of the best songs in the set: a Peggy Lee/Dave Barbour tune that they recorded for Capitol. Foster is impressive, as is Lucy Ann Polk in her solo chorus. An outstanding record.

"Old Chaperon" is in no way outstanfing, although it is well performed. This is one of the many ethnic items of the day, and Foster and Mae Williams enthusiastically adopt the appropriate (or inappropriate, depending on how you look at it) accents. This item has a spoken introduction by Dorsey, which Bryan lifted from one of Dorsey's radio shows. The bandleader had a regular spot on New York's WMCA at the time.

"Judaline" comes from A Date with Judy. It's an OK Don Raye/Gene de Paul song with a charming melody. The pitching is all over the place here.

In September, Dorsey recorded a six-song Tchaikovsky album, with Foster singing on four. Victor called the package Tchaikovsky Melodies for Dancing. I can't say I've had any desire to dance to the Pathetique Symphony, but Dorsey makes it work well enough.

"The Story of a Starry Night," the item derived from the Pathetique, is suited to Foster. "The Things I Love" is a reworking of a Mélodie Tchaikovsky wrote for violin and piano. Harold Barlow and Lewis Harris turned it into a catalog song, not especially well done lyrically.

The most popular of these adaptations was "None but the Lonely Heart," originally a setting by Tchaikovsky of a poem by Goethe, here wrung through the hands of Mack David, Al Hoffman and Jerry Livingston. I do like the chugging dance beat, although it doesn't really go with the sentiment that "None but the lonely heart can know my sadness."

The final item was popularized by Larry Clinton, who had produced perhaps the first big-band classical hit with "My Reverie" in 1938. His 1939 follow-up, "Our Love," was adapted from Tchaikovsky's Romeo and Juliet. The 1947 Dorsey version starts with the bandleader's trombone, and Foster handles the superfluous words in good fashion.

The September sessions also encompassed a tune called "Let's Pick Up," a generic ballad with  rhyming-book lyrics, although in a good performance by the vocalist and band.

In contrast, the next recording session featured one of the best songs of the era. "Where Is the One," recorded in December, is a brilliant Alec Wilder song with a superior Edwin Finckel lyric. The Clark Sisters (billed as such, not under their former Dorsey name "The Sentimentalists") lead off. The Clarks are always welcome, but I am not sure it was the best idea to start the arrangement with them. That sets an impersonal tone for a very inward song. Foster is outstanding here, on one of his last dates with Dorsey.

The next item couldn't be more different. Dorsey and arranger Sy Oliver decided to have fun with the oldie "Let Me Call You Sweetheart." Some clipped phrasing from tightly muted brass lends an old-timey air to the proceedings. Foster plays it straight in the face of the dreadful vocal counterpoint from the band. There is a real, live instrumental solo on this side, perhaps the only non-TD chorus in this set. Too bad it's not one of the best I've heard from the usually reliable tenor Boomie Richman.

For Foster's final Dorsey record, Tommy sent him back into Sinatra territory with "The Miracle of the Bells," the theme music from one of Frank's least remembered films, in which he plays a priest (!), not as successfully as Crosby's forays into the same territory. The music here is by Pierre Norman, with words from Russell Janney, who wrote the story. Sinatra himself did not record the tune, turning his attentions instead to the torporific "Ever Homeward," one of Cahn and Styne's few stinkers.

That effort completes our survey of Foster's recordings with Dorsey. Thanks again to Bryan Cooper for his contribution, which allows us to hear this talented singer during the period of his greatest popularity. For more of Foster, please see this post covering his later singles - and of course the first installment in the Dorsey series.

 

Foster with vocalist Martha Wright and DJ William B. Williams

More Vaughan Williams First Recordings: 'Sancta Civitas' and 'Benedicite'

Let's continue our series of Vaughan Williams recordings from early UK vinyl incarnations. Following the Hodie post of a month ago, today we have more choral/orchestral works - Sancta Civitas and Benedicite. 

As with Hodie, David Willcocks conducts the London Symphony and the Bach Choir, adding the King's College Choir for Sancta Civitas. The soloists are again among the best that the UK had to offer - baritone John Shirley-Quirk returns for Sancta Civitas, with soprano Heather Harper the soloist in Benedicite. Tenor Ian Partridge makes a brief but effective appearance in the first work.

The recordings derive from January 18-20, 1968 sessions in London's Kingsway Hall. Leading the recording team were producer Christopher Bishop and engineer Christopher Parker.

Ralph Vaughan Williams and David Willcocks, circa the 1940s

Sancta Civitas

In his Gramophone review, Roger Fiske remarked that neither Sancta Civitas nor Benedicite are heard in the concert hall - they require elaborate forces and are too short to command a program by themselves.

The longer work, Sancta Civitas, calls for orchestra, three choirs (one off-stage) and two soloists, one of whom (the tenor) has only one line. It lasts barely more than a half-hour. Still and all, Fiske called it "a masterpiece and among Vaughan Williams' greatest achievements."

While the composer termed Sancta Civitas an oratorio, it will not remind you of The Messiah, or closer to Vaughan Williams' time, The Dream of Gerontius. As with the latter work, however, Vaughan Williams' intent was spiritual. In his notes, Michael Kennedy quotes the composer as writing, "The object of all art is to achieve a partial revelation of that which is beyond human senses and human faculties, of that in fact which is spiritual." The work is from 1923-25, and sets texts from the Book of Revelation and other sources.

As Fiske wrote, the performance is superb, and the recording is all one could wish. (Perhaps a bit more than one would wish; it is quite bright sounding.) Shirley-Quirk and Partridge are excellent.

John Shirley-Quirk and Ian Partridge

Benedicite

In his High Fidelity review, Alfred Frankenstein noted that Benedicite "is quite different from Sancta Civitas. It is rugged, vigorous, effervescent with reminiscence of English folk song in tune and text."

The text leaflet optimistically calls the work a setting "of the familiar canticle." A canticle is a liturgical setting, in this case "Benedicite, omnia opera Domini, Domino" in the Latin Rite, or "O all ye Works of the Lord, bless ye the Lord" in the Book of Common Prayer. Vaughan Williams set the latter version, interpolating a 17th century poem by John Austin.

Heather Harper

The work, which dates from 1930, is half as long as Sancta Civitas, but no less worthy. Frankenstein considered it "one of the most important of Vaughan Williams' numerous brief choral works." Here, the soloist is Heather Harper, who distinguishes herself, as do the choral and orchestral forces under Willcocks.

The download includes reviews, texts, and front and back cover scans. Although I possess both the original HMV and Angel pressings of this coupling, I made use of a lossless transfer of the HMV from Internet Archive, which seemed marginally cleaner than my LPs.

In later posts, I will have more of Willcocks' Vaughan Williams choral recordings from the 1960s. 

Stuart Foster with Tommy Dorsey, Part 1

Not long ago, I devoted a post to a fine, but now forgotten singer, Stuart Foster. That post covered much of his career, while leaving out the period of his greatest success, when he was Tommy Dorsey's band singer in 1945-47.

At that time, I glibly asserted that Foster's Dorsey oeuvre is well-known, which elicited a gentle riposte from friend and vocal maven Bryan Cooper, who has contributed to the blog over the past several years. He insisted that Foster's many Dorsey recordings are too little known, and offered to compile them for me.

This then, is the first installment of two devoted to Foster's vocals with Dorsey, which total 50 recordings. Today we have 25 records made in 1945 and 1946, compiled by Bryan and cleaned up by Bryan and me.

The vocalist was highly regarded during this period, but that didn't lead to solo success after he left Dorsey, unlike Tommy's previous star vocalists Frank Sinatra and Dick Haymes. But Foster's subsequent career was addressed in the previous post, and today is devoted to his excellent work with Dorsey's band. 

About Stuart Foster

A few notes from my previous post about this vocalist:

Stuart Foster (1918-68), is a former big-band vocalist who was not even that well known during his heyday, and recorded only sporadically under his own name. He was featured, however, on records by bandleaders as diverse as Guy Lombardo and Gordon Jenkins, and had a long career as a studio singer. Foster was much more talented than his reputation would suggest, as I hope you will agree after sampling his output.

Foster's first professional gig was as a singer for the Ina Ray Hutton band, starting in 1940. The download includes a May 1946 interview with George Simon of Metronome magazine, where Foster tells the story of his stage name. Born Tamer (or Tamir) Aswad to a Syrian-both father and American mother, he acquired the name "Stuart Foster" upon joining Hutton's band. She introduced him as such on a broadcast, neglecting to tell "Stuart" of his new name ahead of time. He went with it.

When Hutton disbanded in 1944, Foster joined Lombardo, then Dorsey in early 1945, where he stayed until 1948.

Foster had a strong voice, even throughout his range, excellent diction and superior intonation. While a forthright singer, he also was sensitive to words.

In this post, you will perhaps note that he was a polished singer from the beginning of his stay with TD, gaining more confidence as time went on.

Stuart Foster and family

The 1945 Recordings

Dorsey had run into trouble finding a steady male vocalist before Foster joined him in time for a March 8, 1945 recording date. That session produced a recording of "June Comes Around Every Year," an indisputable assertion from the team of Mercer and Arlen that was written for the film Out of This World. 

Unlike most of his Dorsey recordings, Foster is behind the beat here. He told George Simon that he had to learn to sing on the beat during his tenure with the decidedly choppy Lombardo band (an experience he did not enjoy), but here he had slipped into his old habits.

Stuart also recorded Out of This World's better remembered title song, although not until the following month. "Out of this World" is a beautiful song, here marred by an distracting Gus Bivona clarinet obbligato. In the film, Eddie Bracken, who played a band singer, had the good fortune to have his warbling dubbed by Bing Crosby. (The movie was a release from Paramount Studios, where Bing was king.)

To return to Dorsey's March recordings: Tommy and his new vocalist were back in the New York studios on March 9, a date that yielded the excellent "A Friend of Yours" and "Nevada." The former song was from a film that Crosby produced, The Great John L, which predictably had music by Burke and Van Heusen. In the movie, "A Friend of Yours" was assigned to Linda Darnell's character, dubbed by Trudy Erwin. Foster's singing is lovely, befitting this beautiful song and lush arrangement.

For some reason, Dorsey resurrected "Nevada" from a two-year old Freddy Martin film, What's Buzzin', Cousin. (We can be thankful that he did not choose "Three Little Mosquitos (Hitler, Tojo and Benito)" from that same score.) "Nevada," in contrast, isn't a bad song.

"Nevada" was Foster's first recording with Dorsey's vocal group, the excellent Sentimentalists, a name that Dorsey had given to the Clark Sisters upon adding them to his troupe in 1944. They replaced the Pied Pipers, who went solo. The quondam Sentimentalists later returned to performing under their family name, making four LPs in the 1950s. They had wanted to continue using the "Sentimentalists" name after they left his band, but the bandleader's felt the name was too associated with him; after all he was the "Sentimental Gentleman of Swing" and his theme song was "I'm Getting Sentimental Over You." 

The Clark Sisters. This is from their 1959 barbershop-style LP Beauty Shop Beat, which explains the panoply of products

Switching back to the April session, "You Came Along (From Out of Nowhere)" is from the film You Came Along, sung there by Helen Forrest and Lizabeth Scott (herself a passable vocalist who later made an LP). Before the film came out, the song was called "Out of Nowhere" and had been introduced under that title by Bing in 1931. It's one of the best numbers that Johnny Green and Edward Heyman ever wrote. After You Came Along (the film) left the nation's theaters, "You Came Along" (the song) reverted to being called "Out of Nowhere."

"There You Go," from a May 14 session, is a little-remembered but pretty tune by Fud Livingston with words by Edna Osser. Livingston himself did the arrangement. He's best known for "I'm Thru With Love," while Osser's greatest hit was "I Dream of You (More than You Dream I Do)," which Dorsey had recorded in 1944.

Later in May, Foster was back before the microphones for "In the Valley," which Mercer and Warren wrote for The Harvey Girls, where it was performed by the incandescent Judy Garland. It's not the best remembered number from the film, but still a good one.

Billboard ad, October 6, 1945

In September, Dorsey and Foster were back in the land of Bing, with "Aren't You Glad You're You," a Burke and Van Heusen tune from Crosby's The Bells of St. Mary's. "Aren't You Glad," possibly a Bill Finegan arrangement, starts with a muted Dorsey. Unlike the recordings we've covered to this point, the bandleader did not employ strings or woodwinds on this date.

"Never Too Late to Pray" is another Fud Livingston tune. The words (from the "Mammy-Alabamy" school of faux-Dixie dislocution) are by Willard Robison, who apparently did not record the number. Foster plays it straight, thank goodness.

Also from this second September session is the fine "A Door Will Open" with music by John Benson Brooks, another one-time Dorsey arranger. Brooks' "Just as Though You Were Here" had been a hit for Dorsey and his then-vocalist Frank Sinatra. The lyricist of "A Door Will Open" was Don George. Although the arrangement does not utilize strings, the tinkling of a celeste and the contributions of the Sentimentalists give it a romantic feel.

"That Went Out with Button Shoes" is a novelty, in contrast with Foster's previous numbers. It employs 40s hipster lingo that is as quaint to us as button shoes were back then. It's not a bad song, actually. Foster shares it with Pat Brewster and the Sentimentalists.

The Dorsey Show Boat album cover

Next on the schedule were November 1945 sessions devoted to Dorsey's recordings of songs from Kern and Hammerstein's Show Boat. Tommy did six numbers for an album produced in the run-up to the opening of Show Boat's 1946 Broadway revival. Four have vocals by Stuart Foster: "Make Believe," "You are Love," "Nobody Else But Me," and "Ol' Man River." Kern wrote "Nobody Else But Me" for the revival. It was to be his last composition; he died in November 1945, just a few weeks before Dorsey and Foster recorded this valedictory song.

Dorsey's Show Boat recordings are what you might expect from a dance band, but neither the arrangements nor Foster's vocals show this team at its best.

1946 Recordings

From Kern, Dorsey moved on to Louis Alter, a good songwriter whose instrumental compositions have appeared on this blog twice before. "If I Had a Wishing Ring," with lyrics by Maria Shelton, is pleasant, but not of the quality of Alter's best songs, such as "Nina Never Knew," "My Kinda Love" and "You Turned the Tables on Me." Andy Russell introduced "Wishing Ring" in the film Breakfast in Hollywood.

Billboard, February 16, 1946. Victor had apparently run out of Dorsey poses. (See ad above.)

Also during that January 1946 session, Foster recorded Ivor Novello's wistful wartime song, "We'll Gather Lilacs," from the composer's West End success Perchance to Dream. This gorgeous number was a deserved success for the Dorsey-Foster team.

Later in January, the band recorded a Cahn-Styne-Harry Harris song, "Where Did You Learn to Love," which was popular with many recording artists of the time. It's not one of the best known works from the prolific Styne and Cahn, but even so has a agreeable melody complemented by a good arrangement and vocals from Stuart and the Sentimentalists.

For March's "There's No One But You," Dorsey paired Foster with his small instrumental group, the Clambake Seven. That was quite a starry ensemble, boasting trumpeters Ziggy Elman and Charlie Shavers, clarinetist Buddy DeFranco and tenor sax Boomie Richman. Dorsey, however, did not give his sidemen much room to shine on the vocal numbers. This is a good Redd Evans song, and a worthy performance.

From April, "Like a Leaf in the Wind" is by Marjorie Goetschius. Her best known song is "I Dream of You," which Dorsey had recorded with Freddie Stewart. As usual, the Dorsey team's performance shows the song in its best light.

Billboard ad, June 15, 1946

A date later in April 1946 yielded three Foster vocals. "Remember Me" is not one of Harry Warren's greater efforts, but it is a much better song than I would have expected, being only familiar with it from the Hal Kemp-Skinnay Ennis recording from 1937. Eschewing Ennis' enervated phrasing, Stuart's romantic vocals flatter both the tune and its Al Dubin lyrics. The Dorsey single was occasioned by the song's use in the 1946 film Never Say Goodbye.

"That Little Dream Got Nowhere" is by Cahn and Van Heusen, and comes from the film Cross My Heart (not "Your Heart" as the label has it), where it was introduced by the hyperkinetic Betty Hutton. Foster can't match her energy, but can match her vocal skill. This is one of his best performances. Here (and elsewhere), you can hear echoes of his early idol, Bob Eberly.

"I Don't Know Why" is a nice performance of an old classic. It dates from 1931 when it was a hit for Wayne King among others. In 1946, it was featured in the movie Faithful in My Fashion and did well for Dorsey and company.

Allie Wrubel's "Gotta Get Me Somebody to Love" was featured in 1946's Duel in the Sun and recorded by many artists. It's a cowpoke song, but done well here. Foster was more convincing with this type of material than, say, Sinatra, although the champ was Crosby, who was an experienced tune wrangler. 

The recording comes from a July 1946 session in Hollywood. Tommy had moved out there to open a ballroom and to film The Fabulous Dorseys with his fabulous brother Jimmy. More about that film and the balance of Stuart Foster's Dorsey recordings in Part 2 of this collection.

These recordings come from several sources, some of them lossy, but the sound is generally very good. Beside quite a few contemporary ads, articles and reviews, the download includes a discography of Foster's Dorsey recordings, plus 1945 and 1946 Dorsey chronologies from Dennis Spragg of the Glenn Miller Archive.

Thanks again to Bryan for supplying these recordings! Part 2 soon.

Addendum: Bryan has sent along a photo of the Clark Sisters when they were Tommy Dorsey's Sentimentalists. See below.