The Early Sylvia Syms, Vol. 1

Sylvia Syms was a remarkably good singer, especially early in her career. Today at the instigation of friend and vocal connoisseur Dave Federman, I'm starting a series that will present Sylvia's first three LPs, plus a bonus item or two.

Dave actually asked me for Syms' third album, but I think it's best to do these things in my usual chronological order, which gives the blog a veneer of orderliness not otherwise found in my affairs.

About Sylvia Syms

Sylvia Syms

Born Sylvia Blagman in Brooklyn, Syms (1917-92) was a club singer in New York throughout the 1940s. Her first records were for the small DeLuxe label in 1947. (Those records have not surfaced so far in my searches.) 

She was both an actor and a singer; her best-known part was as Bloody Mary in South Pacific. Her booming contralto, good cheer and depth of feeling must have made her perfect for the role. Those qualities are in evidence in this collection.

Syms was well regarded throughout her career, without ever becoming well known - or if her friend the pianist Barbara Carroll is to be believed, without working all that often. The vocalist died on stage at the Oak Room in the Algonquin Hotel, doing what she did so well.

As is often the case with singers who made their livings in smoke-filled clubs, her voice was freshest when she was younger, Her best-known LP is a late one - Syms by Sinatra, conducted by her great admirer Frank Sinatra, who otherwise only led LPs for Alec Wilder, Peggy Lee and Dean Martin. But her best records are from the 1950s.

Songs by Sylvia Syms (10-inch version)

Sylvia made two 10-inch LPs, both of which will appear here. It's not clear which was first - they both date from about 1952 - but let's start with the better known of the two: Songs by Sylvia Syms on Atlantic, which at the time had a substantial roster of New York club singers along with its formidable R&B contingent. The album was later expanded into a 12-inch LP, which we'll get to in the next section.

This record - at least the 10-inch version of it - was recorded in the early hours of March 8, 1952, following Barbara Carroll's set with her trio (with Joe Shulman on bass and Herb Wasserman on drums). The group is excellent, if under recorded.

Barbara Carroll, Joe Shulman, Herb Wasserman

Syms, who is in strong voice, begins has set with a real find - "There's Something About an Old Love," by bandleader Will Hudson and Lupin Fein. It's a song that can sound sentimental, but here Sylvia brings an appealing wistfulness to her singing that elevates the piece.

Syms does the same for a much better-known composition - Porter's "Down in the Depths (On the Ninetieth Floor)." The premise can seem contrived, but Sylvia is so sincere and so into the lyrics that the artifice is dispelled. She begins with the almost never heard verse, which sets off the Latin-tinged chorus extremely well.

Syms then tempts fate by presenting an even more overexposed song - "Mountain Greenery." Here she shows her jazz ability through subtle shadings of both the melody line and the rhythms. Her good cheer is irresistible.

The Duke-Harburg "What Is There to Say" is another cabaret favorite, but again Syms' leisurely and well considered reading does full justice to the song, which comes from the Ziegfeld Follies of 1934.

"Imagination" was one of the first Johnny Burke-Jimmy Van Heusen songs. Dating from 1940, it was a hit for the Tommy Dorsey and Glenn Miller bands. Sylvia reveals the depths in the song.

Benny Carter's "Lonely Woman" is the prize of the LP. It's been said that the song was written for Syms. I'm not sure that is true; I've also read it was written in the 1930s. Whether or not intended for Sylvia, she certainly makes it her own. It's heart-rending.

Next, she shows her range with a rollicking version of "Can't You Just See Yourself." This comes from the 1947 musical High Button Shoes, set in 1913. Cahn and Styne's excellent song - although it does reflect the influence of "Surrey with the Fringe on Top," at least lyrically - is one of Syms' best performances. She bends the melody at the outset, letting us know she's about to have fun. And she does, clearly delighted by the prospect of imagining herself "in a gingham gown, little pink ribbons tied in my hair." Just a delight.

The Gershwins' soaring "Love Walked In" ends the program of the 10-inch LP. While Sylvia's reading is perfectly fine, it does lack some of the exhilaration implicit in Ira's lyrics.

Songs by Sylvia Syms (12-inch version)

In early 1954, Atlantic decided to expand the 10-inch album into the 12-inch format that was taking over the market. Apparently, the cover artist thought that the best way to attract an audience was to design a swirl such as you would see in the smallest room in your house.

For the four additional songs, Atlantic brought in a highly accomplished septet conducted and arranged by the talented Johnny Richards. They provide a perfect complement to the trio sounds heard on the 10-inch edition.

Johnny Richards

The songs were complementary as well, with Syms at her playful best throughout the set. First up is "Paradise," which can be best described as overheated in Sylvia's hands. This is rhythm singing at its finest. "Paradise" is a Nacio Herb Brown and Gordon Clifford item from 1931 that is generally sung so as to suggest great ardor in a romantic sense. With Syms, it's frankly sexual. The soloists are Al Cohn on tenor sax and Kai Winding on trombone.

"Comes Love" is now a standard, although it originated in a hayseed epic called Yokel Boy that ran for several months on Broadway in 1939. Charles Tobias, Lew Brown and Sam H. Stept were the songwriters, Judy Canova the singer. Syms wrings every bit of juice out of the number.

Murray Mencher and Billy Moll wrote "I Want a Little Girl" in 1930, a song that Sylvia turns into "I Want a Little Boy."

The final song added to the 12-inch version of the LP is No, No, Nanette's "Tea for Two," written by Vincent Youmans and Irving Caesar. Sylvia greatly manipulates the simplistic melody line, showing off her jazz ability.

Bonus Track - "Don't Wait up For Me"

Syms recorded four single tracks for Atlantic in November 1953. I located one on Internet Archive. It's a moody "I'm-leaving" song written by Sylvia's fellow cabaret performer Charles DeForest titled "Don't Wait Up for Me."

DeForest has appeared on my other blog with his early recordings for Bell.

Atlantic's label claims that Syms' accompaniment is by Larry Clinton and an orchestra, but that may not be so. At the time Clinton was recording for Bell. He backed DeForest on two songs and among others was the bandleader for a singer named Sylvia Sims. I have the records, and Sims is not Syms to my ears.

Whoever did the charts, they are well in tune with this sad song that is nonetheless effective.

DeForest and Syms also recorded for the short-lived Version label, which as far as I can tell only issued three albums. (The other was a reading of Balzac by deejay-announcer Ken Nordine. Version was a niche label.) My next Syms post will be her Version LP.

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The Young David Allyn - 1946-49

Two recent posts here celebrated the vocal artistry of David Allyn - presenting one of his best LPs, from 1959, and his earliest recordings, from 1940-45. Today we complete the survey of Allyn's work in the 1940s, including work with Boyd Raeburn, Johnny Richards and others dating from 1946-49 - 24 sides in all.

These include all his commercial discs from that period (to my knowledge) along with a number of transcriptions. These came from my collection, with a few additions from Internet Archive.

As I wrote about Allyn in the first installment of this series, "He was a warm, flexible and intelligent artist who was as comfortable with ballads as he was with jazz ensembles." In short, he was one of the finest vocalists of the 20th century, still too little known.

With Boyd Raeburn, Part 2

We start with seven circa 1946 transcriptions with Boyd Raeburn's band, and it's immediately clear that the 27-year-old Allyn had already become a secure artist, comfortable at all tempos and with varied material. The first item, "I Don't Care Who Knows It" is a standard pop song of the time, but Allyn puts it across convincingly, with the assist of a good boppish chart from an unnamed arranger.

We do know who did the next chart - 20-year-old prodigy Johnny Mandel handled "If I Loved You" from Rodgers and Hammerstein's new show, Carousel. It's proficient work, but the real interest is in Allyn's caressing vocal, warm and wistful. The bass sax solo is by bandleader Raeburn (shown above on tenor sax, accompanying Allyn).

David Allyn

George Handy returns with one of his best-known songs, "Forgetful," heard in the first set in its commercial recording. As I wrote before, "'Forgetful' is not a good tune, but Allyn puts it across with authority."

Allyn was to return to Handy's hipster "Where You At?" in 1963 with Bob Florence, but here is supported by a good chart from the composer, a vocal from Ginny Powell (sounding like Peggy Lee), and a trumpet solo from Ray Linn.

Next is the excellent Arlen-Mercer song, "Out of This World," introduced by Bing in 1945 and a hit for Jo Stafford. Considering the title, Handy's surrealistic arrangement may be appropriate, but how Allyn could sing so beautifully with such distracting backgrounds is a mystery.

"Picnic in the Wintertime" also was included in the first collection in a live recording. This transcription is mercifully without that version's Ernie Whitman announcements.

"Blue Echoes" appears in this set in two versions - first the transcription and then a commercial recording for Jewel made in June 1946. It's not a great song, especially with a Handy arrangement that seems to throw in effects at random. Both editions use the same chart, but the Jewel performance is smoother.

The Jewel side is taken from an album called Innovations. The cover below is an amusing period piece, with Boyd shown in the center with a plant thing coming out of his head and the bearded Handy next to him. You are welcome to examine this artwork for any meaning you can derive from it.

The more straightforward inside cover below has several excellent photos of the band. That's Raeburn on the lower left with his wife, Ginny Powell.

The final Jewel single was recorded in February 1946. "I Only Have Eyes for You" has a relatively restrained Handy arrangement (still loud but with not as many peculiar interjections) and a sensitive Allyn interpretation. 

The First Solo Singles

The Raeburn band was to break up late in 1946, but by then Allyn had begun recording as a single artist for small labels.

Atomic records issued four songs under Allyn's name. Bandleader Frank Devenport and label owner Lyle Griffin collaborated on the first composition, "Chinero." It's an OK song, with better melody than words (e.g., "Like the stars shining in the heavens above, you shine"). The record features good guitar work by Al Hendrickson, himself a singer who later recorded an LP as Tommy Hendrix. The other star of this date was tenor saxophonist Lucky Thompson, one of the best instrumentalists of the time.

Lucky Thompson

"Sweet and Lovely" is another song Allyn later returned to, although with an up-tempo interpretation. It's on a 1964 Everest album that also contains a revival of "Forgetful." Here he and Thompson take their cues from the song's title, with satisfying results. 

"Snowbound" is a fine song by Lyle Griffin and bassist Red Callender. The tenor obbligato is by Thompson. The pianist for these sides is one "G. Style." The speculation is that Mr. Style is actually Dodo Marmarosa, who was more or less Griffin's house pianist at the time.

"Penthouse Serenade," a popular song of the time that has become a standard, gets another heartfelt reading with celeste by Devenport. Thompson and "Style" lay out for this one.

Allyn also recorded two sides with Griffin as leader and trombonist. "Deep in the Blues" is a terrific record with a quasi-R&B sound and growl trumpet from Al Killian. Hal McKusick received a label credit for his alto work.

"It Shouldn't Happen to a Dream" is a conventional ballad, with the love object traipsing through the singer's dreams, a la "It's the Same Old Dream," recorded by Frank Sinatra at about the same time. 

Also in 1946, poet Fran Kelly engaged Allyn to record two songs for her Fran-Tone label. Arranger Tom Talbert brought in everyone but an ophicleide player for the date, including (according to one source) oboist Ray Still (later the Chicago Symphony principal), hornist Vince DeRosa (a Hollywood studio stalwart) and pianist Erroll Garner. 

Kelly's songs are more interesting than you might expect. "Black Night and Fog" is a film-noirish essay in loneliness, with an appropriate early-exotica backing by Talbert. "Please Let Me Forget" is another downer, but again with a chart worth hearing. Allyn was not in particularly good voice for this date.

With Johnny Richards and Paul Smith

Allyn did not record in 1947 or 1948. (The latter year was lost to a musicians union strike.) Things picked up in 1949, with two dates for the Discovery label.

For the first date, in September, Allyn was in excellent voice and backed by a large ensemble led by arranger Johnny Richards. His rendition of "It Never Entered My Mind," one of the greatest Rodgers-Hart songs, is definitive vocally, and the busy arrangement is not too distracting.

Another Rodgers and Hart standard, "Wait Till You See Her," gets a sensitive reading, if lacking the sense of exhilaration implied by the lyrics. Harry Bluestone fiddles like he is in a salon orchestra.

Johnny Richards

Allyn is appropriately impassioned in Max Steiner's "Wrong" (formally, "It Can't Be Wrong") from the recent film Now, Voyager, with lyrics added by Kim Gannon.

The final number was "When Love Comes," a good song by arranger Phil Moore that gets a superior vocal from Allyn and a hyper arrangement from Richards.

Paul Smith, the pianist on the Richards date, led the second Discovery session, held in late December and devoted to three standards.

Paul Smith

"The Touch of Your Lips" is an excellent Ray Noble song first recorded by the composer with Al Bowlly in 1936. Allyn's version is ardent, backed by the fluent Smith piano. This session also featured a Novachord, a sort-of electric harpsichord that polluted the occasional record in the 1940s.

Also from the 1930s is "Did You Ever See a Dream Walking," a 1933 hit for Harry Revel and Mack Gordon. Not one of my favorites, but here in a good reading.

Allyn's 1940s recordings ended with Jimmy McHugh's 1926 "I Can't Believe that You're in Love with Me," with both Allyn and Smith in high spirits and the Novachord under control.

Despite the excellence of these 1949 vocals, Allyn did not venture back into the studios until the late 1950s. For him this period was marred by drug addiction and a prison sentence for forging prescriptions. He rose above these troubles and was to make many excellent records in the years to come.