Les Brown - Six Navy Shows from 1953

Here from the original 16-inch transcription discs are six episodes of The Les Brown Show, which the bandleader produced for US Navy recruiting purposes in 1953.

The 15-minute programs each include four songs, two instrumentals and two vocal features. The singers are Jo Ann Greer, Butch Stone and Stumpy Brown from the band, and guests Margaret Whiting and Jimmy Wakely.

The provenance of the musical selections is largely unknown. It's assumed in some quarters that these are from broadcasts, but I think that is unlikely. For one thing, the applause is obviously dubbed in. These may items may be from transcriptions for radio stations or commercial issues, probably both. Whatever the source, the music is uniformly excellent - Brown had a top-notch working band at the time - and the sound is quite good as well.

So in total we have 90 minutes of programming, including 24 songs. Each program is fully tracked, so you can listen to Hy Averback's announcements and Navy promos once (if that often) and then move on to the musical selections.

Program No. 1

We start off, appropriately, with Program No. 1 in the series, which has Margaret Whiting as guest vocalist. Her numbers are "C.O.D. (My Broken Heart)" and "No Other Love," both popular favorites at the time. Whiting did a commercial recording of "C.O.D." for Capitol, but this is not that performance. She did not record "No Other Love" commercially.

Margaret Whiting

As usual with Whiting, she presents each tune sympathetically, with perfect diction and a fine rhythmic sense. The Capitol version of "C.O.D." can be found here. Back in 2011 I called it an execrable song, but I must be mellowing - now I like it! "No Other Love" is the Richard Rodgers melody originally titled "Beneath the Southern Cross" when used in his music for the Victory at Sea television series. He then repurposed the tune for the musical Me and Juliet, with the addition of Oscar Hammerstein's lyrics.

Ronnie Lang

The program also includes the instrumentals "Midnight Sun," a Sonny Burke-Lionel Hampton theme that is not a favorite of mine, and "That Old Black Magic," the Harold Arlen composition that is a favorite. The former is a showcase for alto saxophonist Ronnie Lang, who was with the band only in 1953. Brown did record "Midnight Sun," both for Coral and World transcriptions. There also is a Coral single of "Black Magic," dating from 1951.

Program No. 2

Jo Ann Greer

Program No. 2 features Les' new singer Jo Ann Greer, who was to stay with him for several decades. And why not - she was a supremely talented vocalist who had the great presence that a band singer needs. Not as welcome is singing saxophonist Butch Stone, who was with Brown for the better part of 30 years and whose novelties were reputedly popular with audiences. I must be hard to please.

Greer's showcase is "Something Wonderful Happens." This is neither the King and I's "Something Wonderful" nor the Sinatra favorite "Something Wonderful Happens in Summer." It is a enjoyable pop song from 1953 that was recorded by Margaret Whiting, among others I imagine. Jo Ann deploys her extraordinary vibrato to good effect here.

Les is awed by Butch Stone's shiny mouth

Butch Stone's feature is called "The Shiniest Mouth in Town," in which he is proud of all the gold fillings in his mouth, which apparently were the sum total of his net worth. This Stan Freberg concoction merited a 1952 commercial recording. (This may be it.)

Les also recorded "Ramona," an L. Wolfe Gilbert-Mabel Wayne composition from 1928, both for Coral and for transcription. Another oldie, "My Baby Just Cares for Me," is from 1930. A Walter Donaldson-Gus Kahn song, it was introduced by Eddie Cantor in the film Whoopie! There isn't a commercial recording of this number. Both are smoothly done.

Program No. 9

We leap ahead to Program No. 9 in the series, with vocal features for both Jo Ann Greer and Les' brother Stumpy, so named because he was short. (People were less sensitive back then, or, more likely, they were inured to such mocking monikers.) The label calls him "Stompy," but that isn't correct. Stumpy played the bass trombone in addition to singing.

Greer's feature is "When I Fall In Love," which she didn't record with the band. Former Brown vocalist Doris Day had a hit with the Victor Young-Eddie Heyman piece in 1952, but her version does not eclipse Jo Ann's passionate reading. There also is a striking trombone solo, possibly by Dick Noel.

Stumpy/Stompy

Stumpy Brown's feature is "Lulu's Back in Town," the Warren-Dubin item that Dick Powell and the Mills Brothers introduced in 1935. Brown wasn't a great singer but he could carry a tune and had a good sense of time, helpful when you are a jazz musician.

The instrumental features are "Brown's Little Jug," a take on you-know-what that the band also recorded for Coral in 1953, and "Rain," a Eugene Ford item from 1927 that appears on Les' 1952 LP Musical Weather Vane.

Don Fagerquist

"Rain" is a feature for trumpeter Don Fagerquist. Frank Comstock was the arranger. Les' other arrangers back then included Skip Martin and Van Alexander. He hired the best.

Program No. 10

Jimmy Wakely

The guest artist for Program No. 10 was Jimmy Wakely, who was ubiquitous at the time, having appeared in dozens of B Western movies, either as the lead or a supporting act. He also was a recording artist, on Decca for several years in the 1940s, then on Capitol, where he was particularly successful in duets with Margaret Whiting - "Slippin' Around," "Silver Bells" and others.

Jimmy's first feature is "Side by Side," which to me works better as a duet. His genial version of the 1927 Harry Woods song was probably occasioned by Kay Starr's hit record of the period.

Wes Hensel

"Crying in the Chapel," written by Artie Glenn, was a hit for his son Darrell in 1953, and was covered by many artists, including a big R&B success for the Orioles. Wakely did not record it for Capitol; that label's entry was by Wesley Tuttle. I actively dislike this piece, probably because of Elvis' insincere 1965 version.

The band's features are the "One O'Clock Jump," Count Basie's famous 1937 blues number, and "The Montoona Clipper," written by Wes Hensel, trumpeter and arranger for Les' group. Brown recorded the latter composition twice for Coral - once for a single, once for his LP Concert at the Palladium, Vol. 1.

Program No. 13

The vocal soloists for Program No. 13 were again the band's own Jo Ann Greer and Butch Stone. Greer's specialty was "I've Got a Right to Sing the Blues," written by Harold Arlen and Ted Koehler and introduced by Lillian Shade in Earl Carroll's Vanities of 1932. Jo Ann is again superb.

Butch Stone and Stumpy Brown - that's entertainment!

Butch Stone weighed in with "Etiquette Blues," written by Gayle Grubb and first recorded by several artists in 1928. "Always put both elbows on the table" is among the dubious pointers in this one, and "Thank you for your very kind attention" is the catchphrase. It suits Butch's persona poifectly.

"Green Eyes" was a big hit for Helen O'Connell with Jimmy Dorsey in 1941, but had been written back in 1931 as "Aquellos Ojos Verdes" by Adolfo Utrera and Nilo Menéndez. Les Brown's version is an instrumental, although I am sure Jo Ann Greer would have had no trouble improving on O'Connell's strained vocalizing. The composition also appeared on Brown's Over the Rainbow LP and his first live Palladium album.

Frank Comstock in emphatic mode

The other instrumental in this session was "Happy Hooligan," written by arranger Frank Comstock and the band's pianist, Geoff Clarkson.

I believe all the music in this program may have come from transcriptions. 

Program No. 14

Jo Ann Greer and Stompy/Stumpy Brown again were the vocal soloists in the final program on today's docket.

Jo Ann's feature is "Don't Take Your Love from Me," a Henry Nemo piece first recorded by Mildred Bailey in 1940. Stumpy added a easygoing version of "When I Take My Sugar to Tea," a Sammy Fain composition recorded in 1931 by everyone from the Boswell Sisters to the Chocolate Dandies.

Meanwhile, the band offered a lively version of "Stompin' at the Savoy," one of the hardiest of jazz standards, written by Edgar Sampson in 1933 and made famous by Benny Goodman in 1936.

The other instrumental feature was "You Are My Sunshine," which Les introduces as a folk song. That it may have been, although some research claims that a Georgia musician named Oliver Hood wrote it. Singer and later politician Jimmie Davis bought the music from Hood in 1939 and copyrighted it soon thereafter. This may have been the best $35 Davis ever spent - it made him famous. Surprisingly, it works nicely in a big band arrangement.

These shows demonstrated several things. The Brown ensemble was highly proficient and swinging, certainly one of the best postwar big bands. Jo Ann Greer was a terrific vocalist. Brown used two musicians from the band - his brother Stumpy and Butch Stone - to provide some variety to his programs and no doubt add some levity to live appearances. I make light of their contributions above, but no doubt they were important to the band's considerable success.

The Legendary Live Berg Concerto, 1936

Alban Berg and Anton Webern

Not long ago I wrote about the first commercial recording of the Violin Concerto by Alban Berg, written shortly before his death in 1935. The soloist was Louis Krasner, who had commissioned the work. Artur Rodziński conducted the Cleveland Orchestra.

The concerto's premiere had taken place in April 1936 in Barcelona, with Krasner and the Pau Casals Orchestra, Hermann Scherchen conducting. Berg's colleague Anton Webern, the other member of the Second Viennese School along with Arnold Schönberg, had been scheduled to lead the orchestra, but he withdrew. Some sources say he was sick, others that he was overcome with emotion at the loss of Berg. But Anthony Pople, author of a book on the concerto, says that the truth was more nuanced:

Webern’s emotional involvement with Berg's last score undermined the rehearsals from the start ... he found it impossible to communicate his precise wishes to the musicians, and became nervous and angry. After the third and final rehearsal he locked himself in his hotel room, saying that the performance could not take place.

Finally he did relinquish the score, and Scherchen took over the premiere, successfully.

Louis Krasner

The concerto's second performance, in London on May 1, 1936 with the BBC Symphony before an invited audience with Webern conducting, was smoother. Pople wrote, "Webern redeemed himself by his musicianship: according to Krasner, 'Webern was the inspirational Master on the conductor’s podium, the orchestra was at one with him and the performance became a Devotion for all.'"

Fortunately, this performance was recorded on acetate discs for Krasner. Those discs are the source of a transfer that was issued many years ago . Unfortunately, that recording is ill-balanced, off pitch and very noisy. My friend David Federman asked if I could ameliorate these problems, which I have tried to do, with some success. Some background noise remains, but the balance is much better and I believe the pitch is correct.

As I wrote in my previous post: "Berg had some difficulty writing [the work], but soon, grieving over the loss of a family friend, young Manon Gropius, the daughter of Walter Gropius and Alma Mahler, he wrote his famous concerto, which he dedicated to 'Dem Andenken eines Engels' ('The Memory of an Angel')." It was to become one of the defining works of the 20th century.

Manon Gropius

Addendum: here is David's eloquent response to this post:

You've extracted the best sonics from this extraordinary performance that I will ever hear. I had just listened to a live performance of the concerto with Klaus Tennstedt conducting the New York Philharmonic with Shlomo Mintz, which is the most analytic and clearly detailed performance I have ever heard. Indeed, he treats it as a tone poem rather than concerto. But Krasner is a far, far superior soloist and makes this the best playing of the work from a soloist standpoint I have ever heard. However, Tennstedt's interpretation is revelatory, especially in the last part where he makes it clear that the work is a collaboration between Bach and Berg. Every note refers to that chorale. But there is far greater drama to Webern's performance. Indeed, the emotional intensity is gripping, even overwhelming at times. To Webern, this is, in essence, a tragic work. Soloist, conductor and orchestra are in total synch. The transition into the chorale is exquisite. Those woodwinds sound like an organ. And Webern never lets us forget Bach's presence, even when Berg has his great outburst of grief. But the darkness of that moment never lifts under Webern's baton. I don't hear Krasner reach for the high notes Berg wrote at the end. I wonder if he just couldn't play them or he and Webern decided to let the orchestra say the Amen. In any case, this performance reminds me I am listening to a work by the writer of "Lulu." Thanks again for supplying it. It needs to be heard and cherished.

Lee Wiley's Two Rodgers and Hart Albums

Lee Wiley sings with Eddie Condon, guitar, Cozy Cole, drums, Sid Weiss, bass, Jess Stacy, piano, 1943

Everything about vocalist Lee Wiley (1908-75) was distinctive - her singing style, her looks, her accompanists, even her choice of songs.

Not that she selected unusual numbers; rather that she pioneered the concept of albums devoted to one songwriter or songwriting team. Today's post is devoted to just such a team - Rodgers and Hart. They were the subjects of her second such compilation, dating from 1940, along with a later R&H album, which came out in 1954. While the former set has been reissued a number of times, the latter is more neglected - but still worthy.

About Lee Wiley

The young Lee Wiley

Born in 1908 in Oklahoma, Wiley (streamlined from "Willey") was in New York at a young age, and was engaged by one of the biggest bandleaders of the time, Leo Reisman, soon thereafter. She was making records with him as early as 1931, followed by dates with Victor Young and Johnny Green, along with radio work.

For whatever reason, following these early accomplishments, she moved back to Oklahoma for a period, returning to New York after a year or so. Her biggest successes followed, generally in the company of the so-called Chicago school jazz musicians, whose style was compatible with her own. The series of "songbooks" she made for small labels were all with those musicians - one of whom (Jess Stacy) she was to marry. The music was great; the marriage not so much.

Her career continued into the 1950s, when she made records for Storyville (the second album included here), RCA Victor and others. The market changed, and her career sputtered, like many others', but she was never forgotten, because she made memorable records.

"She moved easily in and out of the world of high society and the raucous, barrelhouse world of jazz. She often sought the sleek, sophisticated wealthy and brittle world of society, only to pull away to the warmth, love and uncertainty of the world of jazz," Frank Driggs wrote.

As for her legacy as a vocalist, critic Stanley Green wrote, "All Lee Wiley ever had to do was to sing a song and it was hers. For keeps. No one ever sang anything quite her way and no one ever could. And she managed this closeness of identity not through histrionics and bombast but through controlled nuances and phrasings."

Lee Wiley Rodgers and Hart Album

If you are at all susceptible to the Wiley magic, you will be enchanted before she makes it out of the verse on the first song on her first Rodgers and Hart album. The song is "Here in My Arms," a prime example of the songwriters' art and the singer's sorcery. Appropriately, it comes from the first R&H show, Dearest Enemy from 1925.

The Rodgers and Hart album was released on the Music Box label issued by Rabson's Music Shop of New York, which was then a new emporium on W. 52nd St. This was in a time when some record stores produced their own discs. In the recent past, we have encountered the products both of the Liberty and Commodore Music Shops, who were active in issuing Broadway, cabaret and jazz records.

The Rabson's album was a follow up to Liberty's album of Gershwin songs, which Wiley had recorded just a few months before. And three months thereafter she would be doing a Cole Porter collection for Liberty, followed by a Harold Arlen set for Schirmer in 1943. These boutique labels loved her, and its clear why - artistically, these are entirely successful records.

The songwriter sets were the idea of a young advertising artist and jazz buff, John DeVries. He came up with the expressionist cover above showing an 12-foot tall Wiley towering over Kaminsky and Bushkin, along with the covers for the other songbooks.

Max Kaminsky

The small groups that generally accompanied Wiley are one key to her success. They created an intimate, improvisatory atmosphere that set off her elegant, yet elemental singing. For some reason, the Rabson's records are attributed to two different leaders - pianist Joe Bushkin and trumpeter Max Kaminsky - although the same musicians appear on all items. The others are Bud Freeman, tenor sax, Artie Shapiro, bass, and George Wettling, drums. Two arrangers are credited, although the charts seem to be limited to who solos when. Regardless, those named are Brad Gowans and Paul Wetstein, later to become better known as Paul Weston.

Joe Bushkin

But back to the Rodgers and Hart songs. The second song is a contrasting fast number - "Baby's Awake Now," one of the more obscure items in the collection, derived from 1929's Spring Is Here. In that score it's overshadowed by the likes of the title song and "(With a) Song in My Heart."

"I've Got Five Dollars" is one of the two hits from 1931's America's Sweetheart, the other being the little-remembered but excellent "We'll Be the Same." I recently posted this particular Wiley recording on my other blog in conjunction with the Arden-Ohman single that came out when the show was new. Her personable interpretation was something of a corrective to the stiff Frank Luther vocal on the Arden-Ohman record.

"Glad to Be Unhappy" was still a relatively new song when Wiley recorded it, dating from 1936 and On Your Toes. It remains one of the enduring R&H favorites, seldom done better than here.

The next number is perhaps the best known in the set - "You Took Advantage of Me," from 1928's Present Arms, where it outshone such fare as "Crazy Elbows" and "Kohala, Welcome."

None of the songs from the next show, 1926-27's Peggy-Ann, are remembered today, but perhaps "A Little Birdie Told Me So" should be. It is entirely charming, sung with much grace by Wiley.

One of the selling points for this set was the presence of a new, unpublished Rodgers and Hart song, "As Though You Were There," a particularly fine example of Lorenz Hart's writing that amazingly may still be unpublished.

The final song is one of the duo's best, "A Ship without a Sail," with a soaring melody allied to one of Larry Hart's most personal set of lyrics. As he writes in the verse, "I go to this or that place / I seem alive and well / My head is just a hat place / My breast an empty shell / And I've a faded dream to sell." The number is from 1929-30's Heads Up!

The Rabson's recordings also came out on the Gala label in addition to Music Box. These transfers are a mix of pressings from the two original sets, restored from Internet Archive needle drops. "You Took Advantage of Me" and "A Little Birdie Told Me So" were mastered (or transferred) very sharp, which I've corrected.

The liner notes of the original album claim that Rodgers dropped everything to help ensure the success of this collection, which seems unlikely. Other observers have marveled that the composer approved a jazz approach to his songs, given that he reputedly preferred them to be sung as written.

Then again, as Rodgers himself pointed out in his notes to an Andre Kostelanetz collection, "Let it never be said that I resist the idea of large sheet music and record sales. Mr. Kostelanetz and I have formed the habit of eating and we like it." A practical man.

Lee Wiley Sings Rodgers and Hart

For this 1954 set on Storyville records, Wiley's song choices were more mainstream, perhaps reflecting the taste of producer George Wein. (He fancied himself a singer, making a vocal album for Atlantic in 1955.) "You Took Advantage of Me" and "Glad to Be Unhappy" are repeat choices from the 1940 album. The other songs are mainly items you might find on any Rodgers and Hart collection, then or now.

Lee Wiley, c1952

That's not to say they are unwelcome, and Wiley does them beautifully, if more cooly than in the 1940 album. Some of that was probably due to her vocal chords being 14 years older. Some may have to do with the musicians on hand. Pianist Jimmy Jones was an experienced vocal accompanist, having worked for years with Sarah Vaughan. But he was a much different stylist and much more linear pianist than others who had recorded with Wiley, such as Jess Stacy and Joe Bushkin.

Jimmy Jones

Ruby Braff was a young trumpeter who was contracted to Storyville. His playing is closer to what Wiley was used to hearing, but he was not always a distinctive player as yet. On "It Never Entered My Mind," for example, his obbligatos seem almost perfunctory (and are under-recorded). Meanwhile, on the verse Jones tries to stay out of the singer's way, and they end up sounding of two minds about the tempo.

Ruby Braff

But the next song, "Give It Back to the Indians," is much better. The trumpet obbligatos are more positive, and Braff provides a very good solo. Then too, Jones' support throughout is a plus. This is the best item on the LP; unfortunately it also is the last. (Mary Jane Walsh introduced "Give It Back" in Too Many Girls; her recording can be found here.)

About the other songs on the LP: "My Heart Stood Still" (written for a 1927 London revue) is done very well, including the verse, as was Wiley's usual practice. "My Romance" comes from 1935's Jumbo. The contrast here between Jones' horizontal playing and Wiley's more rhetorical singing is marked.

Hart assures Rodgers that beans could get no keener reception in a beanery

"Mountain Greenery," from 1926's Garrick Gaieties, can be heard on what seems like three-quarters of the R&H albums ever issued. Vocalists love to sing "Beans could get no keener reception in a beanery." It's an up-tempo song, so it makes a good change of pace for such ballads as "Spring Is Here." Wiley does it well.

Finally, "My Funny Valentine," a no-doubt great song that suits Wiley down to the ground, although her limited vocal range comes into play on the higher notes. The song comes from Babes in Arms.

As for the album cover, we go from the giant Wiley on the Rabson's album cover to a photo of her singing in a darkroom for the Storyville LP. This second image is the handiwork of art director/photographer Burt Goldblatt, who specialized in murky covers featuring underexposed photos further obscured by a saturated color overlay (cf., the Joe Derise Sings album).

I transferred the Storyville LP from a slightly later reissue with very good sound. If you have a few moments, read over the garrulous liner notes on the Storyville back cover by the journalist George Frazier, in which he admits he wants to have sex with Wiley, laments the end of his marriage, and criticizes the clothing choices of author and radio personality Clifton Fadiman. He even writes a bit about the record, which he likes.

And in that regard, let's give Frazier the last word: "Wiley is one of the best vocalists who ever lived, with a magical empathy for fine old show tunes and good jazz. Indeed, I know of no one who sings certain songs so meaningfully, so wistfully."

I expect to post more of her records as time goes by.

Solomon - Mozart Concertos and Sonatas

We have heard a great deal from Solomon in recent months, and for good reason - he was an exceptional pianist who played the classical and Romantic repertoire superbly.

Today we look into his 1952-55 Mozart discs, encompassing three familiar concertos and two sonatas. These are the entirety of his recordings of this composer, save for a 1943 sonata disc that I don't have. Solomon's career was cut short by a paralyzing stroke in 1956, when he was 54.

I transferred the Mozart works on this program from a 1970s reissue. The cover images you see below are from the original LPs. Scans of the reissue and the originals are in the download.

Concertos in A major, K488, and C minor, K491

Solomon's traversals of the Piano Concerto No. 23 in A major, K488, and No. 24 in C minor, K491, came on May 10-12, 1955 in Abbey Road Studio No. 1. Conducting the Philharmonia was Herbert Menges, a childhood friend of the pianist who was one of his favorite accompanists.

Solomon's biographer, Bryan Crimp, wrote, "Unlike his recent concerto collaborations in the studio with Kubelik and Cluytens, Solomon felt no sense of disappointment with any of these recordings. Much of their success can be attributed to the rapport Solomon enjoyed with Menges." He added that while Menges was not considered a top-rank conductor, "He was, however, a thorough and hard-working professional who was quite prepared to collaborate before the sessions, as is apparent in the resulting accompaniments."

The two works are contrasted - the A major being generally optimistic and the C minor powerful and dark. Solomon is fully up to the demands of the music, technically and artistically. The orchestra plays elegantly and the sound is very good, enhanced - as these all are - by ambient stereo.

Herbert Menges

The Gramophone's Robin Golding was in awe of the performances: "This is classical playing at its very best, with no suggestion of sentimentality or self-indulgence, yet with what Harold C. Schonberg (whose tribute to Solomon from his book The Great Pianists is reproduced on the sleeve) describes as 'an incomparable blend of intellect and heart', adding, 'It was an intellect which both respected the text and comprehended the architecture of the score; the heart inspired a lyrical warmth and a radiant generosity. The resultant performance was an act of genuine recreation.'"

He continued, "AP [earlier reviewer Andrew Porter] thought that Solomon’s account of K488 - one of the most familiar of all Mozart’s concertos, but one of the most difficult to bring off really convincingly - was the best he had ever heard, on records or off, and I am still inclined to agree with him. Here is a blend of delicacy and strength, of crisp articulation and a feeling for the long breathed phrase, which give to the first movement and the finale a suppleness and resilience that elude many pianists, while Solomon’s shaping of the wide curves of the melodic line in the Adagio is extraordinarily poignant."

Golding adds that the minor-key K491 is a worthy foil to K488: "strong and purposeful in the outer movements, but never melodramatic, wonderfully limpid in the Larghetto; and it is in this latter movement that the playing of the Philharmonia Orchestra ... and particularly that of its princely wind section, is to be heard at its superlative best."

Concerto in B flat major, K450, Sonata in A major, K331

The concerto in B flat, K450, is largely a sunny work, which may conceal its real difficulties for the soloist. Solomon, in his pearly perfection, does not give a hint that any of these passages are challenging.

This concerto recording, from 1953, comes from Kingsway Hall rather than Abbey Road, and has more spacious sound. The conductor here is the Romanian Otto Ackermann, then resident in Switzerland. He was another reliable leader who made a good number of records for EMI, often as accompanist.

The concerto has appeared here before, in a pressing issued in the US. This is a new transfer.

The Sonata in A major, K331, is one of the composer's most often heard pieces - at least the finale. It is the movement Mozart marked Rondo "alla Turca;" it is sometimes called the Turkish Rondo. The music echoes the distinctive sound of the Turkish Janissary bands, which was then (1784) in vogue. The style also can be heard in Mozart's 1782 opera Die Entführung aus dem Serail, set in Turkey.

This Sonata and the K576 Sonata discussed below were recorded in 1952 in Abbey Road Studio No. 3. For the reissue, HMV coupled them on one 36-minute LP side, and in order to squeeze them both in, apparently sped up the tapes so that the music played quite sharp. I've adjusted the speed, hopefully accurately.

Sonata in D major, K576

The D major Sonata, K576 first came out on one side of a 10-inch LP, coupled with a Haydn sonata I don't have.

In The Gramophone Robin Golding wrote that the Sonata "with its taut, two-part contrapuntal writing, suits Solomon particularly well, and it provides an impressive tailpiece to a group of performances that are regrettably small in number though gigantic in stature. The mono recordings, like Solomon’s interpretations, do not seem to have aged at all." Nor have they 45 years later.

The sonata was Mozart's last. On the reissue LP it is identified as Sonata No. 17, but these days it is usually numbered No. 18. I've tagged the sonatas here solely by their Köchel catalogue number to avoid confusion. 

Tammy Grimes - the Columbia LPs

When we last heard from Tammy Grimes, it was 1959 and she was presenting a new cabaret act at Julius Monk's Downstairs at the Upstairs in New York. Her appearances caused at least a mild sensation, attracting the likes of Noël Coward to see the show.

Coward in particular became a fan, immediately casting her in his next play, the comedy Look After Lulu, based on Georges Feydeau's 1908 farce Occupe-toi d'Amelie. Grimes would seem to have been invented for the genre, but for whatever reason, the show was a flop, opening March 3, 1959 and closing April 4, 1959.  Coward would return to Grimes with another, more successful project a few years later.

With Harve Presnell, The Unsinkable Molly Brown

Lulu may have foundered, but Grimes kept on sailing. There were specials on television (the download includes a long New York Times interview connected with one of them), then she enjoyed one of her biggest successes, the title role in Meredith Willson's musical The Unsinkable Molly Brown. It opened in November 1960 and stayed at the Winter Garden until February 1962 with Grimes in the lead role,  wowing the customers with the opening number, "I Ain't Down Yet." She then was the lead in the show's national tour. She won a Tony, and the original cast album on Capitol was a healthy seller.

Columbia Records took note of her growing fame and signed her to a contract. Her first solo LP came out in May 1962, the second in March 1963. Today's post presents both. Spoiler: the first is uneven, but the second is mostly terrific.

Tammy Grimes

For Grimes' first LP, Columbia did give her something of the star treatment, with striking photos by Richard Avedon on the front and back covers, and liner notes consisting of rave reviews by the New York critics, who again competed to provide the most colorful descriptions of her voice and personality.

These tortured encomiums, presumably inspired by Molly Brown, included:

Walter Kerr, New York Herald-Tribune: "Out of this improbable rag doll, with its faraway stares comes a falsetto baritone that seems to be a distillation of all the sweet-tempered steampipes that ever played vaudeville.” 

John Wilson, New York Times: "Miss Grimes has an astonishing sweet-and-sour voice — at one moment as grindingly-penetrating as a dentist’s drill, but then miraculously all softness and tenderness."

Back cover photo by Richard Avedon

Joseph Wershba, New York Post: "Her voice ... has been aptly described as half velvet, half gravel and all magically rusty - set in a stage personality of rock-candy hardness."

The anonymous critic for Show Magazine was perhaps most on the mark with this notice: "Tammy Grimes is an artful, introspective comedienne with irresistible bounce, a hauntingly scratchy voice, and a face that is minxlike and memorable."

What did Columbia do with this magical, miraculous, haunting, irresistible voice? It toned it down. On this first Columbia LP, she sounds like no one so much as Eartha Kitt.

The album starts off with some real oldies - Sissle and Blake's "I'm Just Wild About Harry" from 1921 and the Hanley-McDonald "Rose of Washington Square" from 1920. She has fun with the former, name-checking bandleader Luther Henderson and producer Mike Berniker. But Henderson produced an old-timey arrangement for the latter, circumscribing what she could do with it. Great to hear the verse, though!

"I'll Be Seeing You" comes from 1938 but didn't make the charts until 1944. This use of the Fain-Kahal song was possibly inspired by its appearance on Frank Sinatra's LP I Remember Tommy in 1961. The lyrics' sentiments don't play to her strengths.

The Julius Monk LP had included a song called "Doodle Doo Doo." It also appears here under its correct title, "Doodle Dee Ooo." (She pronounces it "Doodle Lee Doo" anyway.) It's fun, but once was enough.

Luther Henderson

"You Came a Long Way from St. Louis," the John Benson Brooks-Bob Russell tune from 1948, does give Grimes something to work with, having a strong point of view that she could exploit - which she does at full throttle. Henderson's rock 'n' roll chart compliments it nicely.

Back to the oldies with "On the Sunny Side of the Street," a Depression song by Dorothy Fields and Jimmy McHugh. (Some say Fats Waller sold it to the latter.) Not a favorite of mine, and it does not lend itself to whimsy. Henderson's easy-going chart is enjoyable, but Tammy's intonation can be off, and she resorts to shouting.

Cole Porter's aesthetic would seem suited to Grimes' talents, and she is adept with one of his biggest hits, "Anything Goes." The chart is cluttered, though.

Next she ventured into Gershwin territory with "How Long Has This Been Going On." The problem with her approach is that she has a hard time - at least here - switching gears and expressing emotion. This isn't entirely convincing.

If you ever wanted to hear "I'm Always Chasing Rainbows" sung in a staccato manner, introduced by a snatch of "La Marseillaise," with a slide whistle and calliope thrown in, this is for you. Well, Chopin wrote the melody in France, so framing it with the French national anthem sort of makes sense.

Another relic, "If I Had You," is one of the best things on the LP, although the chart is again not much help. Grimes' singing is mainly sprechstimme.

Someone had the idea of including the 1958 pop hit "Tom Dooley," supposedly written by the Kingston Trio's Dave Guard, but actually a old folk song. This is at once overwrought and insincere, and the arrangement is clunky.

The LP does end on a high note with the 1930 entreaty, "Please Don't Talk About Me When I'm Gone." Tammy seems into the song and the simple chart helps her, for once. She ends strongly, in true vaudeville fashion.

My copy of this LP is in mono, but the sound is very, very good, processed in ambient stereo.

The Unmistakable Tammy Grimes

The Columbia moguls must have been happy with the first LP - they brought back the same team for a second effort: arranger Luther Henderson, producer Mike Berniker and a similar bill of fare, with a few newer items added. The album came out in March 1963.

Columbia engaged the Vogue illustrator René Bouché for the stylish cover illustration, making his name bigger than that of Grimes. Apparently his name sold records. 

It is a fine likeness, with the artist turning her famously tousled hair into a Medusa-like apparition, perhaps a comment on Grimes' temperamental reputation.

For the back cover, Columbia turned to another famous photographer, Milton Greene, for one of the singer's most flattering portraits. Here, she's not dressed in leather, smoking a cigarette or disheveled.

Back cover with Milton Greene photo

As with the first album, Columbia went straight back to the early 1920s for the first song, "Toot, Toot, Toosie (Goo'Bye!)," associated with both Al Jolson and Eddie Cantor, two other powerful stage personalities. Both singer and arranger are reasonably straightforward with their respective duties, and the song comes off well. (Not as well as Jolie, though.)

"Miss Otis Regrets" is one of my least favorite Cole Porter songs, but Grimes plays it against the grain, in other words straight, without any knowing side-glances or innuendo, and it's effective. Luther Henderson is in tune with this approach.

We're back to the Twenties for "Bye Bye Blackbird," the Mort Dixon-Ray Henderson standard of 1926. Grimes and Henderson are integrated for this one, and Grimes sells it strongly.

I don't know who came up with the idea of including the quasi-spiritual "Gonna Build a Mountain" in this program, but I would have told them it was a horrible idea. And I would have been wrong. Grimes and Henderson do it without condescension, unlike the performances of its creator, Anthony Newley, which sound synthetic. Leslie Bricusse was the co-author.

I would have been even more emphatic about not programming "Hi-Lili, Hi-Lo," which, you may recall, was sung to a puppet by Leslie Caron in the 1953 film Lili. Again I would have been mistaken. It's a gorgeous song, although quite simple, and Grimes has the good sense to include Bronislaw Kaper's accomplished verse. She doesn't kid Helen Deutsch's lyrics in the least.

The Rattle of a Simple Man, 1963

Tammy is in a knowing mood for "Just Squeeze Me (But Don't Tease Me)," a 1941 Duke Ellington-Lee Gaines song that she does brilliantly, with Henderson adding an unexpected rock 'n' roll arrangement. (I assume Ellington didn't object - Henderson was associated with the Duke for many years.) This is great.

Even better is Henderson's take on the spiritual "Hold On," which comes off superbly here, rhythmic and inspiring.

Grimes is in commanding form in "My Man," reviving the Maurice Yvain song written for Mistinguett in 1920 and brought to the US for Fanny Brice in 1921. Henderson's choppy arrangement just doesn't work here; it seems to fight her rather than supporting her. "My Man" was adopted to great effect by another powerful personality a few years later.

"Time After Time" is a great Styne-Cahn song that Grimes sings ably, although she doesn't have quite enough vocal control to bring it off completely. It is affecting, however, and skillfully supported by the orchestra.

With Beatrice Lillie, High Spirits, 1964

They went back to rummaging around the music trunk for "Lullaby of Broadway," the Warren-Dubin song from 1935. Another fine tune, which Luther Henderson thought needed a Latin beat. Tammy doesn't have the chops for this one, in truth.

She does have fun with the old Ink Spots specialty "Java Jive" and Henderson's arrangement is in tune with her.

Tammy finishes the LP with "I'd Do Anything" from Lionel Bart's Oliver! It's a strong song from a recent show, but it works best as a duet. Henderson thought it required a Guy Lombardo-style brass chorus; not sure I agree.

This second LP ended Grimes' recording career with Columbia. The label almost simultaneously released the first album by the other powerful personality I noted above - Barbra Streisand. There are many parallels between the early careers of Grimes and Streisand. For the latter: cabaret show - check, at the Bob Soir and then Blue Angel. Broadway stardom - yes, in I Can Get It for You Wholesale. Distinctive appearance and singing style - check and check. Incandescent personality - oh yes. Now add Columbia Records, producer Mike Berniker, a different arranger (Peter Matz), a similar although more focused repertoire, and a great deal of talent, and a mega-star emerges.

But Tammy Grimes went on to her own great things on the stage and elsewhere - a triumph in Noël Coward's High Spirits in 1964, and another Tony for Coward's Private Lives in 1970, along with many more accomplishments. She deserves to be remembered.

My copy of this second LP is in stereo, and the sound is very fine.

The Only Game in Town, 1968

First Recordings: the Berg and Schönberg Violin Concertos, and More

Two of the most notable 20th century violin concertos were commissioned by the same instrumentalist, Louis Krasner, within a year or two of one another, during his relatively brief period as a soloist before he went into orchestra work and then teaching.

The composers were two of the three leading lights of the Second Viennese School. One, Alban Berg, produced a work that is noted for its intense beauty and emotion. Arnold Schönberg's concerto is mainly famed for its difficulty - although it too is intensely emotional.

Louis Krasner

Krasner (1903-95) was born in Russia but moved to the US as a child. A New England Conservatory graduate and veteran of engagements in Europe, he commissioned Berg's concerto when he was just 32. Berg had some difficulty writing it, but soon, grieving over the loss of a family friend, young Manon Gropius, the daughter of Walter Gropius and Alma Mahler, he wrote his famous concerto, which he dedicated to "Dem Andenken eines Engels" ("The Memory of an Angel"). It was to be the last work Berg completed before his own death.

Manon Gropius

Krasner premiered the work in Barcelona in 1936, following Berg's death. The concert was to have been conducted by the third member of the Schonberg circle, Anton Webern, but in the event Hermann Scherchen led the orchestra. Krasner then took the work to London for a private concert with the BBC Symphony and Webern. That performance was recorded for the violinist and has appeared on record, albeit in fairly poor sound. In fact, I had refurbished a dub of that version, and old friend David Federman asked me if I would present it here. I'm waiting for a better copy of the release to arrive and then should be able to do so.

Alban Berg

In the meantime, this post contains the first recording of the work, also performed by Krasner, with the Cleveland Orchestra and its then music director, Artur Rodziński, in 1940. It's quite a good performance, acclaimed upon its initial release on 78s and then on LP in 1954, when it was coupled with the Schönberg concerto, which Krasner had premiered in 1940 with the Philadelphia Orchestra and Leopold Stokowski. The Schönberg recording was in 1952 with the New York Philharmonic and Dimitri Mitropoulos.

C.J. Luten wrote in the American Record Guide: "The Berg concerto is a master's masterpiece: Krasner (for whom the work was written) and Rodziński give a devoted performance... It is intensely serious, deeply felt, and beautiful of sound. It also has an expressive coherence uncommon among the works of the Viennese dodecaphonists. 

Artur Rodziński

"How different is the force of Berg's concerto compared with Schönberg’s (written in 1935 a year before the former). The Schönberg concerto (superbly performed and recorded) is deadly serious, darkly emotional, intensely intricate, and fiendish to play. Its expression is, however, ever so ambiguous; and its tortured invention ever so difficult to follow."

Not every critic was as baffled by the Schönberg. Arthur Berger, himself a leading composer, took to the Saturday Review and blithely opined: "I wonder if the unwarranted intellectual processes so often attributed now to the contemporary composer are not really, in many cases, in the mind of the listener - the calculated effort, namely, that we must exert in any new and challenging situation, whether it is the apartment we have just rented, the new route we take to drive to the country, or the strange language in which we order dinner abroad." Oh, OK.

Arnold Schönberg

Berger goes on to dismiss the Berg concerto as an comfortable piece: "[I]f its emotional appeal now seems thoroughly patent it is because, to start with, its moods were not particularly elusive - pervasive languor and desolateness gently fluctuating - and it is also because we no longer need exert ourselves much to grasp the idiom in which they are embodied."

Meanwhile, he faults the Schönberg because he "failed to use reason as a check upon feelings so abundant and intense that they overflowed the bounds of judicious form. Thus, instead of the impact of a well-unified structure, we carry away the memory of some lucid and imaginative scoring and of the tenuous quality of such passages as the approach to the first cadenza and the Mahleresque opening of the andante. Few details of the Berg are of such rarefied beauty."

The last words go to Alfred Frankenstein of High Fidelity: "[The Schönberg concerto] is colossally difficult for the soloist and almost equally difficult for the supporting ensemble and for the hearer, but what comes out of this collaboration is one of the most devastatingly dramatic symphonic compositions of the twentieth century. The Berg concerto, on the other hand, is a lyric work. As everyone knows, it was composed as a requiem for a young girl, and its mood is one of exaltation and ethereal expressiveness. No better contrast between Schönberg and Berg could be provided, especially since the performances are uniquely authoritative and masterly. Fine recording, too."

Dimitri Mitropoulos and Louis Krasner following a 1954 performance of the Schönberg concerto in Munich, courtesy of Alexandros Rigas

Louis Krasner was to go on to become the concertmaster of the Minneapolis Symphony from 1944 to 1949, during Mitropoulos' tenure there, and then a teacher at Syracuse University and the New England Conservatory. His lasting legacy is commissioning these two masterworks and several other notable compositions, including concertos by Alfredo Casella and Roger Sessions, and shorter works by Henry Cowell and Roy Harris.

A word about the LP cover: The 1930 drawing by Paul Klee is titled, "Ausgang der Narren," that is, procession of fools or jesters. It is may be an ironic depiction of carnival time, or it may be an oblique commentary on politics, but it is not related to the music. It is, however, preferable to the cover below.

Schönberg's Erwartung

In 2014 I posted another Schönberg work, his 1909 Expressionist monodrama Erwartung (Expectation), with soprano Dorothy Dow and again the New York Philharmonic and Dimitri Mitropoulos. I've now reworked the sound on that recording, which is backed by Ernst Křenek's Symphonic Elegy (In Memory of Anton von Webern), while greatly expanding the commentary.

Dimitri Mitropoulos

There, too, I quote Arthur Berger: "Erwartung stems from an intermediate period separating Schoenberg’s frankly post-Wagnerian stage from his ultimate crystallization of twelve-tone technique. The Tristanesque contours evocative of love-death and frustration had not yet been subjected to the compression and abstraction that makes them, in his later music [e.g., the Violin Concerto], barely recognizable as such."

The work is not easy listening. C.J. Luten: "Erwartung is shocking, violent, and more than a little morbid. It concerns a mature woman, who, upon taking a midnight stroll through the forest, runs into the dead body of her lover. The words of the play are the thoughts which occur to the protagonist throughout the 25-minute course of action."

If this intrigues you, please do visit the original post for more information. The download link is both there and in the comments to this post.