One More from George Enescu

A very late addition to the series of recordings that George Enescu made of his own music - here he tackles his "Romanian Rhapsody No. 2" in a good recording from one of the Parisian orchestras, issued by Remington.

I almost didn't transfer this LP because it has a radial crack that makes the pressing look like it was hit by a ball peen hammer. But with some careful handling and digital refurbishing, it doesn't sound too bad.

The performance of Smetana's "The Moldau" on the other side - a spirited one - is from the so-called Austrian Symphony under George Singer. Michael Gray's website tells us this is the Vienna Tonkunstler Orchestra. NOTE (December 2018): the Smetana is a new transfer that eliminates the sonic problems on the original.

The cover is by Alex Steinweiss, post-Columbia. (I used to have a hat like that, but mine had a red plume.)

Freddie Mitchell

As the giant green saxophone suggests, this Boogie Bash is a honkin' sax outing for Freddie Mitchell, with his band of New York musicians.

Although this collection appeared on the "X" label in about 1957, the recordings were made for Derby from 1949-52, when Mitchell was its music director.

Mitchell had a propensity to update old tunes in jump style, so here we have everything from Mendelssohn's wedding march, to jazz riffs like Till Tom Special, to Maurice Chevalier's Louise.

In addition to the 10 numbers on the LP, I've added six from 78s, including Freddie's take on Easter Parade (below) and his hit, Doby's Boogie. The latter was a tribute to Larry Doby, the first African American baseball player in the American League. For a tribute, it isn't much of a tune, seemingly completely improvised.

The LP contains two vocals that are attributed to Sarah Dean (although I wouldn't have guessed they are by the same vocalist).

This post is a follow-up to the Todd Rhodes material below. Like Rhodes, one of Mitchell's records was adopted by disk jockey Alan Freed for theme music. Freed used Rhodes' Blues for the Red Boy when he was in Cleveland, and Mitchell wrote Moon Dog Boogie for Freed.

Miguelito Valdés with Machito's Band

Here's a departure for this blog - at least I can't remember featuring any Latin music before, unless you consider Carlos Chávez compositions to be a form of Latin music (and I suppose they are).

As the cover indicates, Miguelito Valdés was a Cuban singer who made these records with Machito's great band. And while these might be Cuban rhythms, the records were made in New York, where Valdés lived from 1940 on.

The music, while quite good of its kind, is not nearly as explosive (or as primitive) as the cover would have you expect. Heck, Bim Bam Boom is a song from a Fred Astaire movie! (I do love the cover though.)

The fact that Valdés was performing a 1942 song on this 1949 record leads me to suspect that it is a compilation of singles that he made for Decca throughout the decade. They are most enjoyable, and fairly early examples of the craze for Latin music in the US - one that continues today.

Two David Allyn Singles

Several bloggers have been drawing attention to the work of the great singer David Allyn, and this is my small contribution to the effort.

Allyn, who I believe is still active, began as a band singer, with Jack Teagarden and the legendary Boyd Raeburn ensemble. Although he is renowned among vocal aficionados as a ballad singer (with a beautiful voice and infinite sensitivity), he has always been associated with jazz as well. These two records, from the early and middle years of his career, concentrate on ballads.

The later item is a non-LP single he made for Warner Bros. circa 1959. (He was spelling his name "Allen" rather than "Allyn" at the time.) Allen/Allyn co-wrote the A-side above with another Allen, the prolific comedian/musician Steve Allen. The B side is an obscurity called Here's the Way It Is.

The earlier single below is from about 1945, and features tenor saxophonist Lucky Thompson (a Raeburn colleague) on Snowbound. Penthouse Serenade, which Allyn also recorded later in his career, is the flip side. Some of you may already have this single from Bill Reed's blog The People vs. Dr. Chilledair; but I did want to share it here because it is a favorite of mine.

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At a Mennonite Revival Meeting

This record takes us inside a Mennonite tent revival meeting of the mid-1950s, with both music and a message from evangelist Myron Augsberger. The Mennonites are a group of Protestant denominations that believe in adult baptism and pacifism.

The stereotype of a revival meeting is one of overt emotionalism intended to evoke a commitment to God. This example could hardly be less like that stereotype. The familiar songs are sweetly presented and unaccompanied. The evangelist presents an almost intellectualized version of Christ's death. He does not make demands on, cajole, or warn his listeners about sin. His message is of faith and redemption. (He also speaks as rapidly as any preacher I have ever heard.)

Indeed the typical revival experience and the Mennonite culture were always somewhat at odds. As Theron Schlabach writes in a review of a book on this very movement (a movement called Christian Laymen's Tent Evangelism, headquarted in north central Ohio), revivalists have been criticized for "manipulating people in ways that have victimized children or the spiritually and psychologically insecure," but Myron Augsberger's approach was different. These recordings bear that out.

The LP was made sometime after Augsberger took over the movement in 1955 and before it changed its name to the Christian Laymen's Evangelistic Association in 1958. The movement itself continued until 1962. Augsberger, whom I believe is still alive, went on to become president of Virginia's Eastern Mennonite College, which he served for many years.

The sound on this record is fairly good; but the rustling and occasional peak distortion show that it was heavily used and clearly well-loved.

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Patrice Munsel as Melba

This is the 1953 soundtrack to a sanitized version of the life story of famous soprano Nellie Melba. True to form, Hollywood cast young singer Patrice Munsel, who was much better looking than Melba, and made her version of the diva into a sweet character, whereas the real thing was a pain in the larynx region.

Munsel did very well in the role, on the aural evidence. Her attractive soprano and forthright approach suited the familiar arias and songs nicely, and she was well accompanied by Covent Garden forces under Muir Mathieson and Warwick Braithwaite.

Patrice Munsel as a glamorized Nellie Melba

This 10-inch LP consists almost entirely of popular opera arias, from Gounod, Puccini, Mozart, Rossini, Donizetti and Verdi, salted with the usual chestnuts (now there's a mixed culinary metaphor): the Bach-Gounod "Ave Maria," Mendelssohn's "On Wings of Song," and, be it ever so humble, "Home Sweet Home."

Munsel pushes Melba toast

What it does not include are the songs written for the film by Mischa Spoliansky and lyricist Norman Newell. This is an odd omission because RCA Victor recorded the two songs with Munsel and an orchestra conducted by Henri René, and issued them as a single. For this revised (2021) post, I've included these numbers, which although delightful are somewhat similar waltzes, via an HMV pressing. Completing the package is Victor Young's instrumental recording of the "Melba Waltz."

Melba was Munsel's only starring role in film, although she often appeared on American television, either as a talk show or musical variety guest, and occasionally as an actor in roles that generally involved singing. She had her own television show in 1957-58. One of her TV roles was in The Stingiest Man in Town, which has appeared here.

Munsel was in the Met company from 1943, when she was just 18, until 1958. She continued appearing in opera and eventually musical comedy until 1981. She died in 2006.

Back then, opera stars often appeared in ads. Above, Munsel endorses Old London brand Melba toast. Below, she does away with "fingertip monotony." And in common with many singers, she also appeared in cigarette ads.

The download includes more ephemera, including a Life magazine article on Melba.

Dancing with Hal McIntyre

The latest in our series of post-war dance bands is Hal McIntyre. Here Columbia invites you to a dance date with Hal and his band - apparently at another college prom, as with the previous bands in this series.

This one came out in 1950, just two years after Columbia introduced LPs, and when it was battling RCA's competing microgroove format, the 45-rpm single. So the Columbia marketing wizards were touting the advantages of the LP - for dance music this meant continuous music, so you needn't let go of your beloved even for a few seconds. "No interrruptions between numbers," the cover proclaims. In practice, however, what Columbia has done is to stitch together the normal complement of eight tunes with a few bars of snoozy celeste transition. Not exactly revolutionary.

Well, enough of the marketing and on to the music. Hal McIntyre's band was in effect a spin-off of the Glenn Miller organization. Hal, a Miller saxophonist, struck out on his own in 1941 with Miller's backing, and remained popular (or at least in business) into the 50s. But while a Miller spawn, the McIntyre band does not display the familiar Miller mannerisms, thankfully. The smooth arrangements put me in mind of the Claude Thornhill band, and the two vocal cuts from the excellent Sinatra disciple Frankie Lester are reminiscent of Ronnie Deauville, who has appeared here on several occasions. Good stuff.

I should mention that there is a bit of pitch instability on the first side, and a few unavoidable skips.