A Dick Haymes Serenade

It's such a pleasure to present these recordings by one of my favorites - Dick Haymes. Here we have a 1951 compilation of earlier singles by the great baritone - some familiar, some less so.

The first two songs - "It's a Grand Night for Singing" and "It Might as Well be Spring" are from the superb Rodgers and Hammerstein score for Haymes' best movie, State Fair, an entirely charming if insubstantial musical from 1945. If I remember correctly, Haymes shared the former song with co-star Vivian Blane, but Louanne Hogan sang the latter, dubbing Jeanne Crain. Haymes  recorded a six-song album from the film when it came out.

"It's Magic" was introduced by Doris Day in the 1947 Romance on the High Seas. 

Unlike these songs, Victor Young's "Searching Wind" from the 1946 film of the same name, did not become a standard; it is, nonetheless, quite a good song.

Back to the hits: "When I'm Not Near the Girl I Love" is from Finian's Rainbow, which debuted on Broadway in 1947. "My Future Just Passed" is a Richard Whiting standard from a number of years earlier. On this one, Haymes is backed by Les Paul, possibly the most over-praised guitarist in history. (Every time I vent that opinion, people vehemently disagree.)

"Some Hearts Sing" is another obscurity, which Billboard touted as something of a prestige item when it was recorded in 1946. It turns out to be an entirely conventional outing with an interesting bridge. It's by Joan Whitney and Alex Kramer - good songwriters who also did such things as "Ain't Nobody Here but Us Chickens," so I don't know how high brow they can be expected to be.

Finally, one of Haymes' biggest hits - David Rose's "Our Waltz," which was an instrumental hit and became popular as well with words by Nat Burton.

Haymes is superb throughout. Decca's transfer to LP was about a half-step flat, which I have corrected. The sound is quite good. The various orchestral backings are by Earle Hagen, Victor Young and Gordon Jenkins; all are outstanding.

Brahms First Concerto with Serkin, Reiner

Not too long ago I posted the Brahms second concerto in a recording by Rudolf Serkin and the Philadelphia Orchestra. I had a request for Serkin in Brahms No. 1, so here is his first go at it. This comes from February 1946, and is with the Pittsburgh Symphony and Fritz Reiner, rather than the Philadelphians and Eugene Ormandy.

Serkin recorded the concerto four times for Columbia - beside this effort, he addressed it in 1952 with Cleveland/Szell, in 1961 with Philadelphia/Ormandy, and in 1968 with the Cleveland combination once again. According to Michael Gray's discography, there also is an unissued Philadelphia attempt from earlier in 1961.

This is a good performance, closely recorded in Columbia's manner of the time. The Pittsburgh musicians don't possess the sheen of their cross-state counterparts, but the orchestral details are vivid and well balanced. It's not clear why Columbia and Serkin decided to redo the concerto only six years later.

The cover above is from the second LP issue. I actually transferred this from a near-mint first generation LP with a tombstone cover. (Scans of both are in the download.) You'll notice that the inset illustration at top depicts Brahms at the piano behind an open door. The scene is a detail pulled from the 78 album art, below. Making use of the 78 set's artwork to provide some color for the LP was a common technique for Columbia at the time. The illustration is pasted onto the cover, which uses a standard design. The art direction for both covers is by Alex Steinweiss; I don't know who did the drawing of Brahms.

Cover of 78 set

Melchior in 'Two Sisters from Boston'

This is the second installment in my miniature tour through Lauritz Melchior's less exalted musical moments, which has been received with breathtaking indifference by readers of this blog. The first was his 1950 recording of highlights from Romberg's The Student Prince (newly remastered here).

For this post, we have a 1946 album presenting songs from Two Sisters from Boston, an M-G-M musical set in the early 20th century in which the sisters were portrayed by Kathryn Grayson and June Allyson. To be more exact, it plunders Liszt and Mendelssohn to concoct noisy cod arias that Melchior attacks with some enthusiasm in his role as an imperious tenor. In the Mendelssohn, he is joined by Nadine Conner, taking the place of Grayson.

Nadine Conner

The film is available in its entirety on YouTube. Of most interest to record fanatics will be a scene that places Melchior at an early acoustic recording session. The recording director keeps having to push the powerful tenor back from the recording horn to avoid overloading the primitive apparatus, while the musicians rush up to the horn so their solos can be heard. This leads to an entirely fanciful scene in which Melchior's dog cocks his head at the sound of "his master's voice" coming from the playback gramophone (see cover above).

The record album also includes Melchior's go at "The House I Live In," which must have surprised Earl Robinson and Abel Meeropol, its writers. The song had become a hit in 1945, following its use in a short film on tolerance starring Frank Sinatra. Melchior's version is coupled with his first attempt at the Serenade from The Student Prince.

RCA's sound is OK. The arias are conducted by Charles Previn; the other songs by Jay Blackton.

(Note: May 2024): this set has now been remastered in ambient stereo. Also, I've added two of co-star Jimmy Durante's songs from the film, "G'wan Home, Your Mudder's Callin'" and "There Are Two Sides to Ev'ry Girl," from a commercial recording on the Majestic label. More information about these songs can be found on my other blog; needless to say, they were not based on Mendelssohn or Liszt.)

LINK

Brahms from the VPO and Böhm

I was so pleased to pick up the latest edition of Gramophone and learn that Karl Böhm has been elected to its Hall of Fame. Not that I have much use for such halls as a concept - but still, Böhm is a musician worth remembering.

The conductor's benediction in print was delivered by the great mezzo Brigitte Fassbaender. Here is some of what she wrote:

Böhm

"'Karl the Great' he most certainly was; he was a consummate musician, his repertoire embracing a wide spectrum from the Classical to the modern. His crystal-clear interpretation of the Mozart operas with the BPO, his deceptively straightforward Beethoven with the VPO and his close artistic collaboration with Strauss in Dresden will ensure his place in the annals."

I while back I prepared a transfer of the June 1953 Böhm-VPO recording of Brahms' third symphony. I find it most enjoyable, although it probably does not represent the best work of either party. The sound from the Musikvereinssaal is good. The download includes the December 1953 Gramophone review, Fassbaender's encomium, and as always, hi-res scans, in case you want to print out and frame that amazingly ugly cover for some reason.

Night Out Music for Stay-At-Homes

I transferred this circa 1956 LP for the Matt Dennis songs it contains, but I thought some of you might enjoy the complete contents, which feature a number of other pianists.

First, about the three Dennis songs. "Black Lace" and "Just a Girl That Men Forget" were coupled on a Coral single in 1950 or 51. As far as I can tell, "The Lonesomest Whistle" is otherwise unissued. I believe these were the only recordings the singer-pianist made for Coral.

I don't have access to my Dennis LPs at the moment, but I think he may have recorded "Just a Girl That Men Forget" for another label. Seems hardly worth recording once.

The LP starts off with two songs that Nat Cole recorded for Decca very early in his career, with guitarist Oscar Moore and bassist Wesley Prince. "Sweet Lorraine" - a classic - comes from December 1940, and "Slow Down" is from March 1941. The latter was written by singer-songwriter-publisher Redd Evans, a friend of Cole's. (Evans has appeared as singer on my other blog.) This transfer seemed to be about a half-step flat, so I've adjusted it accordingly.

The three sides by Erroll Garner are among the four he recorded for Signature in March 1945. I am not an admirer of Garner's pianism, so have little to say about these records, except that "Loot to Boot" appears to be based on "Nola" - at least Garner quotes the earlier tune.

Pianist Billy Taylor also makes an appearance with two standards: "My Heart Stood Still" is from January 1950; "Darn That Dream" could be from the same session. They first came out on a Coral single, and are pleasant.

Finally, there is pianist, later composer and sometime singer Cy Coleman, a favorite of mine. He recorded these two songs circa 1950, when he was just 21. The transfers of "Sabia" and "Caprice" seemed to be very sharp, so I have taken them down a full step.

The more records I work on, the more I realize that record companies often mucked with the speed of their transfers, for whatever reason. I have compensated for this phenomenon on many occasions, and have been taken to task (sometimes rudely) by commenters for missing other off-speed recordings. My collection contains one recording so out of kilter that I can't even produce an acceptable transfer. So this LP is by no means an anomaly for the period.

The recorded sound is variable, and my pressing had a few issues, hopefully not too distracting.

The cover is characteristic of the time, when the proportion of men smoking pipes and women in negligees was far higher on record covers than it was anywhere else, other than Hugh Hefner's publications.

George Byron Sings Jerome Kern

I don't know that cabaret singers are to the taste of many people who come to this blog, but I thought some of you might be interested in this obscurity from 1952. Neither the record nor the singer are well known, but the results are worthwhile.

George Byron was friendly with Jerome Kern, and this record is in fact a program conceived for the singer by the composer. The record had liner notes by Oscar Hammerstein 2nd. So he was highly thought of by some very distinguished personages.

Nevertheless, Byron was and remains little known. Cabaret historian James Gavin notes him in passing as being praised by Kern and Ira Gershwin, and says he appeared at the very swank Café Gala, which operated on the Sunset Strip in Hollywood from 1939-48.

Otherwise, not much information is easily available. He seems to have appeared in some films in the 30s and early 40s, and apparently was a singing MC with the Ice Capades in 1942, appearing in a Republic film with that troupe. He had a sponsored 15-minute radio show in 1946. But then nothing until this 10-inch LP came out in 1952. It first appeared on Desto, and then was taken over by Atlantic in early 1954. Atlantic used the Desto pressings, pasting its labels over the Desto labels.

Byron also recorded a Gershwin LP (which I do not have), and a later collection of Kern songs, which came out on Atlantic in 1959 and which had arrangements by André Previn.

Byron was married to Kern's widow when the Kern LPs came out (a fact not noted on this present record).

It's easy to hear why the composers liked Byron. He had a fine voice, sang the songs straight, with excellent diction and intonation, and seems to have been scrupulously accurate. It's not an approach that is at all popular today - or was so even back in the 1950s - but it has a distinct charm and appeal. You may find Byron's vocal timbre slightly reminiscent of Bobby Short.

This is one of those LPs that can't make up its mind about its name. It's called "A Memo from Jerome Kern to George Byron" on the front, "Jerome Kern Songs Personally Selected for George Byron" on the back, "George Byron Sings Songs by Jerome Kern" on the Desto label, and "George Byron Sings Jerome Kern" on the Atlantic label. I have chosen the last named.

The accompanist here is the excellent pianist William Roy, himself a cabaret legend. The sound is fair, and my pressing is grainy. (Note: this recording is remastered as of 2022 and now has much better sound.)

Tchaikovsky Conducted by Rodzinski and (Maybe) Ringwall

A recent post in one of the classical newsgroups led me to undertake this transfer. One of the folks there posted the 1940 Cleveland Orchestra recording of Tchaikovsky's fantasy-overture Romeo and Juliet as conducted by Artur Rodzinski, the orchestra's music director at the time.

Ringwall

This elicited a fascinating anecdote from my friend Joe Serraglio, who said that it had been claimed that Rudolph Ringwall, the orchestra's associate conductor for many years, was the actual conductor of the contemporaneous Rodzinski/Cleveland recordings of the Marche Slav and 1812 Overture.

I have a good copy of the early LP edition of the disputed 1812 Overture, coupled with that same Romeo and Juliet recording, and decided to transfer the record to see for myself . . . well, not sure what I wanted to prove, but I did want to listen to it.

Here is what Joe has to say about the claims that Ringwall was the conductor of the 1812, not Rodzinski:

"Don Rosenberg's masterful history 'The Cleveland Orchestra Story: Second to None' mentions Ringwall's claim to have conducted the Marche slav and the 1812 Overture:

'In three days of sessions over a 12-day period, they [Rodzinski and Columbia producer Moses Smith] ... recorded ... Tchaikovsky's Romeo and Juliet fantasy-overture and Marche slav. The label on the Marche slav disks lists Rodzinski as conductor, as does a later performance of the 1812 Overture, though associate conductor Rudolph Ringwall claimed he conducted both recordings.' (180-181).

"Later Rosenberg weighs in on who he thinks conducted the 1812 Overture: '...the musicians and recording engineers didn't get it quite right. The orchestra is alert, occasionally untidy. It is much larger than the ensembles on the 1924 and 1927 recordings and therefore juicier. But this doesn't sound like Rodzinski at the helm. Everything is competent, a bit ordinary, lacking Rodzinski's pervasive zeal. The cannon shots are haphazard and some brass bloopers as well as an exposed cough, can be heard along the battle route. Ringwall would have done himself no favor by taking credit for this recording.' (182)

"And in the CO discography at the end of the volume Rosenberg lists both the 1812 and Marche slav as conducted by 'Rodzinski (probably Ringwall).' (670)"

Now you all can listen and decide for yourself, if such is possible. To me, this could well be a Rodzinski recording, even though there are no telltale signs like pistol shots during the peroration (Rodzinski supposedly carried a gun). The Columbia ad below, for what it's worth, claims the 1812 is played with "new vividness, new impact".

The sound here is good. Michael Gray says the Romeo and Juliet recording was on December 14, 1940 in Severance Hall, and the 1812 was on April 14, 1941.

Life Magazine, May 22, 1944 (click to enlarge)