A Homesick Thanksgiving 2025

Here is our annual Thanksgiving collection from the indefatigable and invaluable Dave Federman. Please read his touching essay, then find the link to his 32-song collection at the end.

Thanks, Dave - a happy holiday to you and to all!

Thanksgiving has long and maybe always been a national holiday that celebrates the peculiarly American longing for home. It has nothing to do with pilgrims and everything to do with pilgrimage. Its meaning lies in travel. Even in the most fractured families, members feel the need to travel back home or to invite family to their own for reunion. Hope springs eternal in these songs.

Going home has never been harder than it is now with air travel encumbered by massive traffic controller layoffs and shortages, plus severe aircraft age and safety problems. The skies have never seemed so unfriendly. And rail, the main alternate means of travel, has its own highly publicized problems.

So Thanksgiving 2025 has as much to do with yearnings for home as arrivals there. And these yearnings tap into deeper longings that are central to a nation that seems to have forgotten its refugee origins and relatively brief duration as a land of settlers. The natives, a good deal of whom were never really natives, are restless and want newer settlers banished. The dream of homecoming is suddenly more dream than reality.

This Thanksgiving has a kind of wartime quality to it. It’s as if we’re all on leave of duty and we can’t quite get to take that leave at home. Even many of those who make it home don’t feel at home when they get there. Maybe there’s too much uncertainty. Routes are no longer simple matters of maps and destinations. Once traveled to their end, many still feel a certain rootlessness. That rootlessness takes hold and intensifies the need to be home and truly thankful for lives more stressed and troubled than many of us haver eve known.

This medley acknowledges the homesickness gnawing at the hearts and hopes of many. Thanksgiving is no longer a cure for many who seek to celebrate it in its original contexts of reunion and gratitude. Many of the songs come from wartime and deal with yearnings for home and sentiments associated with them.

Strangely, four of the songs are Bing Crosby obscurities from either 1945 or 1950, both war years. Bing is America’s greatest troubadour of holiday songs. So how anthologists missed these recordings baffles me. His version of “Home Sweet Home” is the greatest I have ever heard and yet it is absent from every one of the numerous gatherings of his holiday recordings that I have found. Indeed, all of the four songs he sings have been denied candidacy for essential collections of his many holiday recordings. So, if this mix accomplishes nothing else, it gives the listener greater completeness of the incomparable Crosby corpus of holiday music.

A little past halfway, the music gets home and all sorts of iconic things give rise to music. But, again, much of the music has never been conscripted for holiday use. So here, too, the mix tries to remedy failure to include these recordings in CD collections or on streaming platforms at a time when they are needed most.

LINK

From the Back Room: Early Bob Manning

Big-voiced baritone Bob Manning became popular during his tenure with Capitol records in the 1950s, which has been covered here, here and here. But Manning (1926-97) made records and transcriptions before then, many of which have been assembled for this "From the Back Room" post.

These Back Room specials are projects that I put off for one reason or another, and which are now seeing the light of day, perhaps without the torrent of commentary that I usually produce.

In brief, Bob sang just as well at the beginning of his career with Ziggy Elman than he did later on. Today's post is the evidence, including all the materials I have been able to locate pre-Capitol - 13 songs in all.

With Ziggy Elman

The Ziggy Elman band: Bob Manning at left,
then Virginia Maxey and Ziggy with trumpet

As far as I can tell, Manning made only one commercial recording with Ziggy: the song "Ivy" that Hoagy Carmichael wrote for the 1947 film of the same name. It's an excellent performance, although the recording isn't very good.

Bob was on board for three ballads that Elman recorded for transcriptions, all first-class: "Maybe You'll Be There," "So Would I" and "To Me." These also date from about 1947.

"Maybe You'll Be There" (Rube Bloom-Sammy Gallop) was a hit for Gordon Jenkins with a Charles LaVere vocal. Parenthetically, LaVere is a "Back Room" candidate - I have 30-some recordings of him as pianist and vocalist.

"So Would I" is a fine Burke-Van Heusen song that was recorded by many artists back then but has fallen into something like obscurity.

Songs for the Click Label

Bob hailed from Philadelphia, and made three records for the small, local Click label in 1948. The first was a cover of "When You Were Sweet Sixteen," a turn-of-the-century ballad that Perry Como had revived. Nicely done, but only Como could pull off this sentimental stuff.

"The Miracle of the Bells" was the title tune of a 1948 film that featured Frank Sinatra as a priest ministering to coal miners. Frank managed to avoid the title song; instead he was tasked with a Polish dirge called "Ever Homeward."

Bob was backed by the Johnny Dee orchestra on "The Miracle of the Bells" and its flip side, "Strangest Feeling."

With Buddy Williams

Buddy Williams

Manning next recorded with the Philadelphia bandleader Buddy Williams, along with "His Golden Echo Music," whatever that term may signify.

Their first effort, for the Rainbow label, was "Margot," titled for the main character in the film noir Where Danger Lives, with Bob Mitchum as a psychiatrist (so the cast list tells us) entangled with a femme-fatale patient. The song is a gloss on "Laura," but none the worse for that. A very good record.

Next, another film song for Buddy and Bob: "Sea of the Moon," written by Freed and Warren for the Esther Williams flick Pagan Love Song.

"Sea of the Moon" was backed up by "Listen to the Band." The vocal here is credited to Manning, but it's actually by a vocal group.

With Art Mooney

Art Mooney

Manning also recorded three sides with Art Mooney's band in 1950. I posted these many years ago, but am including them to round out the set.

The first number is Hank Penny's country novelty "Wham Bam Thank You, Ma'am," which is a lot less salacious than the title signifies.

"There'll Never Be Another You" is not the Harry Warren song with a similar title but a song by Carl Bergner dating from the 1920s, and nicely revived by Bob, the Four Clovers and Mooney.

Finally, "To Think You've Chosen Me" is a good Bennie Benjamin-George David Weiss song that many artists recorded in 1950, including Manning with the Skylarks and Mooney.

Bob's next records were for Capitol.

LINK

Arrau Plays Schumann, Vol. 1

I recently had a request to re-upload a Myra Hess program that included Schumann's Études Symphoniques. It inspired me to transfer some other notable recordings by that composer. Today we begin with three relatively neglected pieces, as played by one of the great 20th century pianists, Claudio Arrau (1903-91).

Arrau's pianism was regal without being ponderous, qualities that were well suited to Schumann, although less perhaps in these pieces than some others. The recordings were made in 1967 and 1968. My transfer is from an original Philips pressing with excellent sound.

Claudio Arrau

Leading off the program is the Faschingsswank aus Wien, Op. 26, a title that is variously translated as "Carnival Jest from Vienna," "Carnival Scenes" or "Carnival Tales," etc. The work is episodic, so the latter two are perhaps more appropriate.

That work is followed by the brief and relatively popular Arabeske. The major work is the Humoreske, little played but very worthwhile.

Harris Goldsmith of High Fidelity was convinced of the pianist's merits in these works: "[Arrau's] approach to Schumann combines massiveness with lucidity, freedom with stringent literalness. Arrau has a big plushy tone capable of infinite color gradations and marvelous pianistic control that permits him to weight chords convincingly and articulate all configurations with complete clarity. He sometimes has an undue penchant for the affetuoso touch and the redundant Luftpause, although moments of metrical waywardness are kept to a minimum in these particular performances. Some may think Arrau's playing a mite too studied, though in this instance I found his performances to be an unalloyed joy."

Robert Schumann

The Gramophone's Joan Chissell was of two minds about the recording: "Arrau's playing is extremely searching. Some of the reflective interludes [in the Humoreske] are outstandingly expressive and beautiful. What I miss from time to time is a feeling of glistening, improvisational spontaneity - such as a youngster like Rubinstein would most certainly have brought to the work. Arrau is too serious for Schumann at this time in his life - still only 29."

I do think a few touches of fantasy might not be out of place in these works, but there is no denying that Arrau's pianism is still a source of wonder.

LINK

From the Back Room: More Buddy Clark in the 30s

I've been working my way through all of Buddy Clark's commercial recordings in the 1930s, finishing up with this selection of 21 songs for my "From the Back Room" series.

This set includes five songs with Xavier Cugat, four with Eddy Duchin, four more with a Johnny Hodges group chosen from the Ellington band, and eight with Buddy as the featured attraction on the label. The recordings date from 1934-38.

Solo Recordings I

We begin with a group of solo recordings by Clark. The first items go back to 1934, at the beginning of his recording career. (There are a few earlier recordings from Gus Arnheim with a vocal by "Buddy Clark" but the aural evidence is that this is not the same singer.)

Clark was a skillful and pleasing singer right from the start, although he took a little time to find his own style.

The first song is the Leo Robin-Ralph Rainger standard "June in January," written for Crosby to intone in Here is My Heart. Buddy is suitably Bing-like in his singing, probably an advantage in this release on the budget Banner label.

"June in January" was backed by another standard from the same film and authors, "With Every Breath I Take." On all these solo numbers, the accompaniment is unidentified.

We jump ahead to 1936 for the next release on Banner. One side has "The Touch of Your Lips" from the great songwriter-bandleader Ray Noble, who recorded it with his American band and the superb vocalist Al Bowlly. (Their version can be heard here.) 

The flip side is another fine piece called "Lost," by Macy O. Teetor, Johnny Mercer and Phil Ohman. It was a popular item with the bands back then. On these, Clark is very much his own singer.

With Xavier Cugat

It would hardly be accurate to label Clark a specialist in Latin music, but he does fit in nicely with Xavier Cugat's Waldorf-Astoria Orchestra in some unusual repertoire. These Victor sessions were in 1937.

Xavier Cugat before he had hair

"A Love Song of Long Ago" is the first selection. The label tells us that Sigmund Romberg wrote it for the film They Gave Him a Gun, a crime saga that seems pretty far afield from such Romberg fare as The Student Prince. But it's a waltz and the sort of thing that Cugie and Clark generally did well, although the tempo here is more lugubrious than might be ideal. Gus Kahn wrote the words.

"I Hum a Waltz" also came from a crime film - This Is My Affair. This number too is less lively than it might have been. Hollywood vets Mack Gordon and Harry Revel were the songwriters.

The bandleader kept the waltzes a-comin' with Agnes Sarli's "Hold Me Tight." Buddy does a professional job, but doesn't seem convinced of the material's merit.

Possibly at the same session, Buddy cut two other songs with Cugat. These were released on the NBC Thesaurus label, a transcription series for radio use. Victor produced the masters for the series.

I don't know a thing about the first song - "Where Did the Night Go?" Buddy didn't seem to know much about it, either - he sounds like he is sight-reading.

The other song is better, and better-known. "You Showed Me the Way" was composed by Ella Fitzgerald, Bubby Green, Teddy McRae and Chick Webb, and recorded by Ella with Chick's band. Billie Holiday and Teddy Wilson also had a go at it.

With Eddy Duchin

Eddy Duchin

Buddy proved that he was not partisan by recording with one of Cugat's rivals among the swank New York bandleaders - Eddy Duchin - and during the same year as well. Eddy was at the Persian Room of the Plaza Hotel at the time. Both baton-wielders recorded for Victor.

Eddy gets us started with a fox trot - "Ten O'Clock Town," from a musical with the unpromising name Sea Legs. It's a good song, and Buddy seemed to like it a great deal. Too bad the show closed after 11 performances. The song was by Michael Cleary and Arthur Swanstrom.

The B-side of that song was "A Star Is Born," from the film of the same name - the original version with Janet Gaynor and Fredric Marsh. The music is by the famed Max Steiner, with lyrics by Dorothy Dick. Clark is earnest but he realizes that this isn't the best song he's ever tootled. Eddy is clangorous, as he tended to be.

I enjoy Edgar Leslie and Joe Burke's "The Camera Doesn't Lie (Neither Do I)," and Clark and Duchin seemed to have fun as well. Billy Rose had this one written for the Aquacade show he mounted at the 1937 Great Lakes Exposition in Cleveland.

"Heaven Help This Heart of Mine" is another nice piece of songwriting. It's by Hugh Williams and Jimmy Kennedy. The original recording was by the American-born British bandleader Roy Fox. Here we have a very skillful vocal from Clark.

With Johnny Hodges

Johnny Hodges

Clark was in decidedly more relaxed company when he met up with a Johnny Hodges group for another 1937 date. Hodges was of course the longtime Duke Ellington alto saxophonist, who occasionally had his own date, usually in company with some of his Ellington bandmates. Here, everyone on the date was in Duke's ensemble except for the vocalist. There are three songs, with an alternate take added for one number.

You will hear Cootie Williams on trumpet, Barney Bigard on clarinet and Harry Carney on baritone sax. The playing is masterful, and Clark's singing is at the same high level.

The songs are all excellent. "Foolin' Myself" is by Jack Lawrence and Peter Tinturin. Al Bryan and Joe Santly wrote "You'll Never Go to Heaven (If You Break My Heart)."

There are two takes of "A Sailboat in the Moonlight," by Carmen Lombardo and John Jacob Loeb. (The alternate is from a bootleg.) Make sure you have heard the brilliant version of "Sailboat" from Billie Holiday, Lester Young et al.

Solo Recordings II

Buddy recorded two songs from Rodgers and Hart's 1938 show I Married an Angel - the title song and the instant standard "Spring Is Here." I featured Clark's renditions a while ago, in a post devoted to the contemporary recordings from the show, but have included them here as well.

The final recordings, also for Vocalion, are more esoteric. "Let Me Whisper" started life as "Murmullo" by Dick Gasparre and Manuel Del Rio (the original label credits Electo Rosell), as recorded by the Trio Garcia of Mexico. Buddy makes it into a nice tango ballad, with English words from Edward Heyman.

"Beside a Moonlit Stream" came from Booloo, a jungle adventure film. The songwriters were Sam Coslow and a Hollander who may be the German composer Frederick Hollander. IMDb doesn't tell us if the number was actually used in the movie. Regardless, it doesn't really come off in this recording.

More Clark in the 1930s

There have been four previous posts devoted to Buddy's commercial recordings of the 1930s:

• A set with Lud Gluskin's orchestra

• With the bands of Dick McDonough and Nat Brandwynne

• With ensembles led by Freddy Martin, Archie Bleyer, Ruby Newman and Wayne King (plus duets with Hildegarde)

• More with with Archie Bleyer and Ruby Newman, along with the bands of Benny Goodman, Joe Moss, Bob Causer and Joe Reichman

Once again, thanks to discographer Nigel Burlinson, whose work was invaluable in assembling these posts.

Let me mention that I am also planning to feature transcriptions from the same period, as mentioned in the initial post about this series.

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A Second Beethoven Program, with Furtwängler and Fischer

The blog has recently featured a few posts with the famed conductor Wilhelm Furtwängler. Today we continue the series with a second program devoted to Beethoven.

Like the first such post, this one includes an overture, a concerto and a symphony - a typical concert program, although here the performances come from three different years and two different orchestras. Yet they are cohesive.

The orchestras are the Vienna Philharmonic and the Philharmonia of London. Pianist Edwin Fischer is the soloist.

Fidelio Overture, Op. 72b

I tried to clarify the muddle of the various Beethoven's Leonore/Fidelio overtures in my earlier post: "Beethoven wrote no fewer than four overtures for his only opera, which eventually was called Fidelio. The original title was Leonore, after one of the leading characters, and three of the overtures carry her name." Here the conductor programs the final, more succinct Fidelio overture, in a splendid performance with the Vienna Philharmonic dating from 1953 - taken from a complete recording of the opera.

The Fidelio overture provides a rousing concert opener, making its full effect here under one of the most significant conductors of the 20th century.

Piano Concerto No. 5 in E-flat major, Op. 73

Similar to the recording of the Violin Concerto, for the Piano Concerto No. 5, Furtwängler allied himself to a kindred spirit - Edwin Fischer was the soloist here; Yehudi Menuhin for the violin work.

Just as with Menuhin, Fischer described the conductor as being in tune with the divine. Here is an excerpt from his remembrances: "[I]n all those who heard him [i.e., Furtwängler], a part of him lives on, as in him a part of the spirit of Beethoven lived on, a precious gift of divine origin."

Fischer added, "How I know from my own experience what peace his grandeur emanated, as his sure and beautiful hand led the excitement of his soloist back to the clear path of the composition and forced him into the service of the work - as he himself during his whole life knew only one task, to be a loving and humble servant in the great temple of immortal Art."

Edwin Fischer and Wilhelm Furtwängler

Of course, some disagreed. The English critic Thomas Heinitz described the recording of the seventh symphony below as follows: "[T]his is the kind of performance to which Ernest Newman referred when recently he wrote: 'Furtwängler conducted, and, as is his way, made it a "conductor's piece" rather than a composer's work.' Furtwängler's readings of Beethoven contain an element of arrogance ('I know best, never mind what the score says') as well as an unpleasant striving after effects in order to 'bring down the house.'" This view of the conductor as knave is certainly much different from Fischer's or Menuhin's opinions. It's also unfair, to my mind.

The "fidelity to the score" concept was associated with Furtwängler's great rival, Toscanini, and is echoed in the recordings of the later, historically informed performance conductors such as Roger Norrington and Christopher Hogwood.

Despite the caviling above, this is a superb performance of the concerto, with soloist, conductor and the Philharmonia Orchestra all in prime form. Fischer's magnificent tone quality is something to hear. The recording is from 1951.

Symphony No. 7 in A major, Op. 92

This is a particularly fine recording of the seventh symphony, although the sonics displayed too much of the empty hall sound of the Musikvereinsaal in Vienna, and not enough of that city's Philharmonic. I've clarified the atmosphere as much as possible.

The reactions to Furtwängler's recordings in the US were often ambiguous and any praise seemed grudging. Here is the New York Times' Harold Schoenberg discussing several of Furtwängler's records, including this one: "For the most part, the conductor refrains from the eccentric, primadonnish mannerisms that sometimes mar his work, and he makes the orchestra sound like the great ensemble it is. On an ultimate critical level, the Toscanini or Krips 'Unfinished' might be preferable, and there are several versions of Beethoven's A major that are on a par with Furtwängler's; but certainly there is no better Mozart G minor on LP, and in no instance do any of these interpretations descend to a secondary level."

After reading that, you may be surprised to hear the exalted, powerful performance of the seventh symphony it describes. The disc dates from 1950.

LINK

September 1951 ad in The Gramophone

From the Back Room: the Music of Kay Swift

The name of composer Kay Swift is well known; her works, except for a few songs, less so.

Swift (1897-1993) achieved a certain level of fame relatively early on with a number of songs that continue to maintain their appeal.

But at the same time she was writing those songs with her husband - financier and amateur lyricist Paul Warburg ("Paul James") - she was engaged in an intense relationship with George Gershwin that would define a good part of her life, even after Gershwin's 1937 death.

In this post, we'll examine the songs that made Swift famous, along with a few others that she wrote over the years, her music for the stage, and other miscellaneous works - encompassing all the music associated with her that I could locate.

The discussion below is separated into her early songs, the Mark 56 LP set from 1975 with much of her concert music, her score for the 1952 Broadway show Paris '90, and her work preparing Gershwin manuscripts into songs for the 1947 film The Shocking Miss Pilgrim. There are download links in each section.

The Songs

Swift was classically trained - her composition teacher was Charles Martin Loeffler. But she had an interest in popular music, which grew after 1925, when she met Gershwin. In 1929, she and her husband contributed perhaps Swift's best and best-known song to The Little Show, primarily by Arthur Schwartz and Howard Dietz, but also with other songs such as "Moanin' Low" by Dietz and Ralph Rainger. Both "Moanin' Low" and Swift's "Can't We Be Friends?" were introduced by Libby Holman. That singer's commercial recording is the first selection in this set. Also included is Bing Crosby's version from the same time.

Libby Holman in the "Moanin' Low" scene of The Little Show

Swift and Warburg then provided all the songs for the 1930 musical Fine and Dandy, a showcase for vaudevillian Joe Cook. (This was the first score for a Broadway musical by a woman.) "Fine and Dandy," introduced by Cook and Alice Boulden, is another Swift song that has become a standard. A second song from that show that has achieved some currency is "Can This Be Love?" sung by Boulden in the original production.

Rehearsing Fine and Dandy: Joe Cook, Dave Chasen,
Kay Swift, James Warburg

For this collection, we have the contemporary recordings of the two songs by Victor Arden and Phil Ohman and Their Orchestra, with vocals by Frank Luther.

FYI - there is a Fine and Dandy studio recording from about 20 years ago, with a somewhat revised book. More information here.

In 1933, Kay collaborated with Edward Heyman on a good song, "A Moonlight Memory," here in a version from Freddy Martin with a vocal by Elmer Feldkamp.

The following year, she was commissioned to write the score for a George Balanchine work for the New York City Ballet. The music for Alma Mater is covered in the next section.

Irene Dunne and Fred MacMurray in Never a Dull Moment

In 1939, Swift became Director of Light Music for the World's Fair. There she met a cowboy named Faye Hubbard, married him and wrote a book about her experiences at their Oregon ranch called Who Could Ask for Anything More? This then became the 1950 film Never a Dull Moment, with Irene Dunne as Kay and Fred MacMurray as her husband. Swift wrote a few songs for the film, one of which, "Once You Find Your Guy," was recorded by Margaret Whiting, among others.

LINK to the Songs

The Mark 56 Album

In 1975 the Mark 56 label issued a two-record set, Fine and Dandy: the Music of Kay Swift, with a comprehensive overview of her career, including much biographical information, included in the scans.

Louise Carlyle sang several of the songs covered above, plus "Up Among the Chimney Pots" from the failed Nine-Fifteen Revue of 1930.

Scene from the Alma Mater ballet

The second side contained "Three Dances from the Alma Mater Ballet" for small ensemble. This was the work she wrote for George Balanchine and the New York City Ballet. That side also contains a Theme and Variations for Cello and Piano, with cellist Marie Rosanoff and Swift herself in the piano part.

Louise Carlyle

Finally, there is the song cycle, "Reaching for the Brass Ring," written by Swift for her grandchildren and premiered by the Philadelphia Orchestra under Alexander Hilsberg at a 1953 children's concert. The soprano then and for this set was Louise Carlyle. She is accompanied in the recording by an orchestra under Robert Russell Bennett. A few additional songs are performed by Swift herself.

LINK to Mark 56 album

Paris '90

Swift wrote both words and music for Cornelia Otis Skinner's one-woman show Paris '90, which ran on Broadway for three months in 1952. The show was a dramatization of the lives of varied Parisian women, as portrayed in the paintings of Henri de Toulouse-Lautrec.

Columbia issued an LP capturing the score. Swift's songs were orchestrated by Russell Bennett.

Cornelia Otis Skinner as a laundress

LINK to Paris '90 LP

The Shocking Miss Pilgrim

Swift devoted herself throughout her life to preserving the music of George Gershwin. She worked closely with Ira Gershwin to prepare unpublished songs from the Gershwin catalog to form the score of the 1947 film musical The Shocking Miss Pilgrim. The stars were Betty Grable and Dick Haymes.

Betty Grable and Dick Haymes

The results were uneven, although to my mind the soundtrack does contain at least two fine songs - "Changing My Tune" and "For You, for Me, for Evermore."

The download includes all the songs from the soundtrack, the two commercial recordings that Haymes made with Judy Garland, and a particularly good version of "Changing My Tune" from Mel Tormé and Artie Shaw's orchestra.

LINK to songs from The Shocking Miss Pilgrim

Kay Swift and George Gershwin

From the Back Room: the Early Sarah Vaughan, Vol. 3

This post completes the survey of Sarah Vaughan's earliest recordings, taking her career up to when she joined Columbia, her first major label. There were two previous volumes in this collection, which can be found here and here.

This set includes 17 recordings in all. Fifteen were made from November 1947 through the end of the year. That was when labels were in a frenzy to complete recording sessions before the Musicians Union strike began on New Year's Day 1948. We also have two more discs made during the strike. These were with a choir - permitted because vocalists were not union members.

A November 1947 Session with Ted Dale

Ted Dale

Vaughan had been working with arranger/bandleader Ted Dale (see Vol. 2) and that relationship was to continue during what must have been a marathon session on November 8 that produced nine masters. Dale  provided relatively lush settings that set off the vocalist's virtuosity, rather than treating her as a member of an ensemble, which had often been the case earlier in her recording career.

Leading off is "Love Me or Leave Me," a Walter Donaldson-Gus Kahn number that Ruth Etting had introduced in 1928's Whoopee. Clarinetist Sam Musiker is featured here.

Sarah's first recording had been "I'll Wait and Pray" back in 1945 with Billy Eckstine. Presumably she wanted a more polished version of the song, which had been written by George Treadwell (her husband) and Jerry Valentine. Dale provides the requisite polish, but the song hardly merited a reprise.

Two of the most standard of standards were next. First, there is an uptempo version of Cole Porter's "I Get a Kick Out of You," followed by an appropriately slow and plush reading of the Gershwins' "The Man I Love."

"I'm Gonna Sit Right Down and Write Myself a Letter" is not of that renown, but has been sporadically popular since Fats Waller recorded it in 1935. Fred Ahlert and Joe Young were the authors. This one has a small combo feel, albeit with a string selection along for the journey. Vaughan is particularly good here.

"The One I Love Belongs to Somebody Else" by Gus Kahn and Isham Jones is a high quality song that has maintained some popularity since its publication in 1924. The tempo is too fast here for Sarah's taste. I suspect that the marathon session had something to do with this.

Another song from the 1920s - this one by DeSylva, Brown and Henderson - is "Button Up Your Overcoat," which seems more to the vocalist's liking.

Bandleader-pianist Phil Moore came out with "I Feel So Smoochie" in 1947 - Vaughan's was among a number of cover versions. It's an annoying song (to me), but she seemed to like it. The arrangement is too cumbersome for the song, and the tempo is hectic.

Sarah was among the artists who recorded Dietz and Schwartz' "Blue Grass," one of the songs from Inside U.S.A., a 1948 Broadway revue. The melody is pleasing, but Dietz's lyrics are contrived, and the song wasn't a hit. Vaughan's reading was not issued at the time, even though her singing is one of the most impressive things in this set. 

(FYI - A post from several years ago discussed two Inside U.S.A. albums issued at the time of the production. One featured stars Jack Haley and Beatrice Lillie, the other Buddy Clark and Pearl Bailey, who were not in the production. "Haunted Heart" is the best number from the score.)

December 1947 Sessions

Dick Maltby

Musicraft decided it needed to pile up a few more masters before the strike began, so on December 27 it brought Vaughan into the studio with arranger Dick Maltby to cut two songs.

Those were the Cahn-Styne numbers "It's You or No One" and "It's Magic," written for Doris Day to sing in the film Romance on the High Seas. That musical didn't come out until summer 1948, so the song publishers were working well in advance to get their works recorded before the ban took effect. That way the recordings could be issued in the run-up to the film's opening.

Maltby does well on the arrangements, and Vaughan is in good form for these two notable songs.

Jimmy Jones

Two days after the Maltby session, Sarah was back at it, setting down four songs with a combo led by her accompanist, the talented pianist Jimmy Jones.

The song "What a Difference a Day Made" began life as Maria Grever's "Cuando vuelva a tu lado." Stanley Adams adapted it for the American market. The Vaughan-Jones version swings hard, welcome after the Dale and Maltby arrangements. 

Vaughan was the first to record Arnold Horwitt and Richard Lewine's "Gentleman Friend." A number of vocalists have take it up in succeeding years. Sarah is entirely engaged in the number, and Jones' pianism dovetails nicely with her singing.

Michael Edwards and Bud Green wrote "Once in a While" back in the 1930s. Tommy Dorsey made it a hit in 1937, and it's been popular ever since. This too goes well.

"How Am I to Know" by Jack King and Dorothy Parker comes from 1929. It isn't much of a melody and Vaughan's recording wasn't issued at the time. The double-time section doesn't help,

The 1948 Choral Session

Nat Cole had the foresight to record "Nature Boy" in late 1947, when he could employ Frank DeVol's orchestra as backing. When it became a hit for him during the musicians' strike in 1948, competing pop singers searched for choirs who could provide accompaniments for their cover versions. Vaughan came up with the Earle Rodgers Choir, who otherwise did not record, as far as I can tell, nor were they credited on the label. This turned out to be a polished version of Eden Ahbez's greatest hit.

Jimmy Dorsey wrote "I'm Glad There Is You" with Paul Madeira in 1941, recording it late that year, with a Dee Parker vocal. (Correction: musicman1979 points out the 1941 recording was with Bob Eberly. There was a 1946 remake wit Dee Parker.) 

Sarah sings the elaborate verse, which is not often heard, and then executes a remarkable segue into the chorus. It makes for a spectacular chose to her time with Musicraft.

Vaughan began recording with Columbia in January 1949.

Most of these transfers are from the original 78s, with a few from vintage LPs and bootlegs. Musicraft's sound was variable; I've done my best to clean up and clarify what you hear.

One note: you may notice that a few of the songs here are taken from M-G-M releases. These were Musicraft masters that M-G-M licensed for a time following the former label's 1949 bankruptcy. Later on, those masters were licensed for release on Allegro and Royale LPs.

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