Christmas with the Crooners

A 1953 Julius LaRosa EP leads off tonight's share of Christmas records by some of the popular crooners of the postwar era, which also includes a passel of unusual songs by other singers.

The EP came out shortly after LaRosa's infamous on-air firing by American TV host Arthur Godfrey (a man who struck me as creepy even back then, when I was barely out of diapers). Julie has a reputation among vocal aficionados that is far greater than his popularity, and this record shows why. He performs these songs beautifully (a tendency to sing a little flat aside). He maintains his quality of voice even when singing loud, which is unusual for pop singers. And he is very involved in the repertoire. Excellent support by the Columbus Boychoir and Archie Bleyer. There is a small amount of groove noise on this EP - the second side was defective, but I managed to navigate around almost all the damage.

Billboard ad

We begin the assorted holiday singles with Johnny Mercer's 1946 recording of "Winter Wonderland," made with the Pied Pipers and Paul Weston. This one's a little worn, but the rest of the evening's fare is in excellent shape.

We move ahead to 1950 and Frankie Laine's 78 of "Merry Christmas Everywhere" and "What Am I Gonna Do This Christmas." Also from that year is the first of two singles from that fine singer Johnny Desmond - "Sleigh Ride" and "A Marshmallow World."

Next up is "That's What Christmas Means to Me," a good song and performance by Eddie Fisher. Back to Desmond for 1954's "Happy Holidays to You" and "Santo Natale" (think "Santa Lucia").

Billboard ad

Finally, from 1955 we have Tony Martin's "Christmas in America" and "Christmas in Rio."

The songs on this set range from the overly familiar ("Silent Night") to sorta familiar ("Sleigh Ride") to sorta unfamiliar ("A Marshmallow World") to completely unfamiliar (most of the rest). Many of the non-hits are very worthwhile, and I think that makes for a good holiday listening.

Merry Christmas 1947 from Signature Records

It's almost the Thanksgiving holiday here in the US, and that's not only the traditional beginning of the Christmas season, it's the traditional beginning of the Christmas music season.

I like Christmas music myself, and golly, do the visitors here like it! Holiday records are far and away the most popular things I share. Let's start things off with a most enjoyable 78 album from just before the LP era. It is called, sensibly enough, "A Merry Christmas" and it features several artists then associated with the Signature label, which was run by longtime industry figure Bob Thiele.

Ray Bloch gets top billing here. The orchestra leader was then active on radio, and later on TV (including with Ed Sullivan). Here he presents two songs ("Santa Claus Is Coming to Town" and "Let It Snow, Let It Snow, Let It Snow") with a good vocal group called the Eldorado Five. He also provides backing for the excellent vocalist Monica Lewis, who may remind you of Dinah Shore. She does a touching version of "White Christmas" and a good one of "The Christmas Song" (although her initial entrance misses the mark on pitch).

Also on board is bandleader Johnny Long, an exponent of the inexplicable swing era convention called the band vocal, in which the musicians form a tuneless chorale and bark out the lyrics of the song. Long had just had a big hit with "In a Shanty in Old Shanty Town" with Decca, which thanked him by showing him and the boys the door. They ended up with Signature, a much smaller label.

For this album, Signature had Long do "Jingle Bells" and "Winter Wonderland," and the results are surprisingly pleasing, mostly due to the fine band vocalist Francey Lane.

Lane and Lewis were both highly attractive, and had brief stints in Hollywood in addition to their singing careers.

Francey Lane

The sound on this 1947 release is quite good, and the records were in fine condition. I really enjoyed transferring this set - hope you like it as well.

Note (June 2024): This has now been remastered in ambient stereo.

LINK

Sargent's Second Dream

Malcolm Sargent conducted one of the most famous of all recordings of Elgar's oratorio The Dream of Gerontius. This isn't it. This, rather, is his second go at the piece, which didn't receive much praise upon its issue in 1955, or thereafter.

Honestly, it's really not that bad! Gerontius is sung by the estimable Richard Lewis, in his first recording of the role. He is among the strongest proponents of the role. John Cameron provides a notably well sung Priest and Angel of the Agony. Marjorie Cameron is not to the level of some other Angels, but is certainly a fine singer.

The reviews would have you believe that Sargent skates over the surface of the music, but I don't hear that, although I will admit that it does not have the passion of Barbirolli's account.

Sargent's first recording of the piece has received ecstatic reviews almost since it came out in 1945. Heddle Nash was considered an ideal interpreter of Gerontius, and the praise has continued to this day. My own view is that this second version, issued to mark Sargent's 60th birthday, is not markedly inferior.

If you haven't heard this piece, a few words of introduction. First, Elgar's music isn't reputed to travel well, and this may be one of his most unexportable works. The work concerns the death of an old man (Gerontius) and his passage into the afterlife. It is based on Elgar's edited version of John Cardinal Newman's very Roman Catholic poem. These days, this kind of poem (and music) could hardly be more out of style. It is, nonetheless, a magnificent work, with sublime music perfectly married to the text by an inspired composer. I find it quite moving.

This is transferred from a mint copy of the original issue.

REMASTERED VERSION (JUNE 2014)

The Jazz and Poetry Movement

Once again we are exploring the intersection of jazz with other arts in the 50s, this time examining the short-lived jazz and poetry movement through this LP, possibly its most enduring artifact.

The idea of a poetry recital backed by jazz music is usually ascribed to the beat movement, specifically the San Francisco poets. This particular LP was midwifed by Lawrence Lipton, but Kenneth Rexroth was at least as involved in the movement. He made his own album about the same time, as did Kenneth Patchen.

This record features the work of San Francisco poets Philip Whalen and notably Lawrence Ferlinghetti along with Lipton. Also included are precursors Walt Whitman and W.C. Williams, along with Langston Hughes, whose poetry was influenced by vernacular music and who had experimented with jazz accompaniment back in the 1920s.

Lipton coined the phrase "jazz canto" to describe the fusion of jazz and poetry - although "fusion" is perhaps too strong a word for what is achieved here. This is not art song; the poetry is recited, although at times reciter Bob Dorough does fall into a sort of notated speech or even outright singing. Most often, the poetry and music seem to be in two different worlds; and although interesting and valid on their own, one doesn't add much to the other when heard together.

That is, except for one number that is gloriously successful - Dorough's recitation and music for Ferlinghetti's poem Dog. In this case, the music makes the poem leap vividly to life, and the result is one of the best things (and by that of course I mean one of my favorite things) produced in 50s music. It helps that Ferlinghetti's poem is based on the dog's journey through the streets of SF, which lends itself to being set to music that trots right along with him. It also helps that Dorough's wry Southern accent sounds just like you imagine this "real live barking democratic dog" would sound. It's a third-person (third-animal?) poem, but the poet identifies closely with his dog-tagonist.

Dorough also did the music and recitation for three Langston Hughes poems, with much less success. The LP contains music from Fred Katz, Ralph Pena, Buddy Collette, Jack Montrose, Bob Hardaway and Gerry Mulligan with speakers John Carradine, Hoagy Carmichael, Ben Wright and Roy Glenn. Mulligan's music accompanies Glenn's recitation of Philip Whalen's Big High Song for Somebody, and that cut has achieved a certain minor renown of its own, but I think the actor's hip baritonal presentation isn't right for the poem.

This was billed as Vol. 1 of a series, but I don't think there was a Vol. 2. The jazz and poetry movement, which started with a bang (or a rimshot) in 1957, was all but over by the time this record came out in 1958.

Do try this for Dog - who, writes the poet, has his head cocked sideways "into the great gramophone of puzzling existence with its wondrous hollow horn which always seems just about to spout forth some Victorious answer to everything." It's the perfect poem for a record collector.

LINK

The French Line

Movies in 3D are not new - there was a short vogue for the format in the 50s. They had the right idea back then, too. Why waste screen time on cute cartoon creatures or spurting blood when you can have Jane Russell's bazooms thrusting out at you?

And that was one of the main attractions of the RKO musical called The French Line, from 1953. As a reviewer on IMDb, who has seen the 3D version, writes, "When the posters outside of the theatre proclaimed 'JR in 3D!', they really meant what they said. During several musical numbers, when she would turn from profile and face the camera with her chest thrust out: watch out! You almost felt you should move away from the screen."

Of course, the soundtrack LP has no such advantages, and we are left with the vocalizations of Russell and Gilbert Roland. While both of them can sing, neither of them is a singer, if you catch the distinction. The songs here are by Josef Myrow (music) and the team of Ralph Blane and Robert Wells (lyrics). We have encountered Myrow here before with his songs for I Love Melvin. Blane is known for many films (Meet Me in St. Louis) and shows (Best Foot Forward). Wells' greatest hit was "The Christmas Song."

The results from this distinguished group are pleasant if hardly compelling. The best tune is probably "Wait Till You See Paris," but in this item Roland manages to be colorless and overwrought at the same time.

Oh well - it's a fairly rare LP, and I imagine connoisseurs of this kind of thing will enjoy the experience.

Note (July 2024) - This has now been remastered in ambient stereo.

LINK

Digression No. 25

I was very pleased that this blog was named one of the best sites for classical music downloads by Nick Morgan of the magazine Classical Recordings Quarterly (previously Classic Record Collector). In fact, Big 10-Inch was the only blog named that isn't exclusively devoted to classics. Most of the other sites named have been cited here before - including Vinyl Fatigue, Serenata in Vano, The Music Parlor, Neal's Historical Recordings, Quartier des Archives, Bill Anderson's posts at RMCR, Sacqueboutier's at symphonyshare, and Bryan Bishop's shares, now available at his new blog, The Shellackophile. If it had been me, I would have added Fred's Random Classics, Satyr's 78 Toeren en LP's, and Pablo's El baul del coleccionista. (Hope I am not forgetting anyone.)

Speaking of Satyr's and Pablo's blogs, I want to mention that they continue to post wonderful Cor de Groot recordings for everyone to enjoy. Pablo has offered a Chopin recital and Satyr has presented Beethoven's second and third piano concertos (with the VSO and Otterloo). Highly recommended.

1917 record cover

Switching subjects - longtime readers may remember a 2008 discussion of the supposed "first record cover design" - a 78 album of music by Richard Rodgers with a cover by Alex Steinweiss. At that time, both your host and a reader named Jeff expressed extreme skepticism about the claim that this was indeed the first such cover, citing items in our own collections that predate the Columbia cover. It turns out we were quite right. The 2010 Association for Recorded Sound Collections (ARSC) conference presented a long and profusely illustrated talk by Mike Biel that explodes the claim that Steinweiss was first. Designed covers go back to 1917 (above right), and there were literally hundreds of them issued before the first Steinweiss cover - several of them in my own basement. My friend Mel mentioned a Pinocchio album that he had as a child that included an integrated design not just of the cover but of the end papers, record pockets and labels. This is one of Biel's exhibits. You can find both the recording of his fascinating talk and a slide show with hundreds of images on the ARSC site. I urge anyone interested in the topic to seek it out.

The ARSC presentations for the past few years are on line, and many of them are fascinating. I listened to Peter Muir's discussion of the early blues industry, including a convincing demonstration of how a good bit of the musical content of W.C. Handy's St. Louis Blues of 1913 was borrowed from a 1908 ragtime song. There are many other worthwhile subjects - just the thing for a record nut!

Canta Maya - From Berlin to Bachelor Pad

We'll never know what path led prewar Berlin cabaret artist Canta Maya to Morris Levy's Roulette records in 1958, but this LP is the result.

There's not much background available on Canta Maya (born Elizabeth Rimmer in Alsace). While we can place her in 1930s Berlin as a singer and perhaps a courtesan - one who was called the "Venus of the flesh" (not sure what that means, but it sounds good!) - it's likely that she was not a big star because she does not appear in recent books chronicling the cabaret scene of the time.

During the war years she emigrated to a German exile community in Mexico, but does not turn up again until she made this one-off record for Roulette in 1958. Finally, she resurfaces years later as an acquaintance of the artist Tamara de Lempicka, again in Mexico.

Canta Maya in Berlin

On the evidence here, Canta Maya was a kind of Teutonic Eartha Kitt, or perhaps a Marlene Dietrich who actually could sing. She is far more intense than most exponents of the bachelor pad genre. She puts across such kitsch as "I'm a Kitten" seemingly without irony, and complete with a glottal purr that's closer to a growl. This kitten seems more odd than sexy. Her version of Ray Noble's "Good Night Sweetheart" sounds desperate - not an effect the urbane Noble was aiming for, I'd guess.

Even so, Canta Maya certainly was a skillful singer who knew how to get the effects she was aiming for, and this record is worth hearing for more than its curiosity value.

This is in response to a request from my friend Jeronimo.

REMASTERED VERSION - MARCH 2015