Tag Archives: Eddy Duchin

DEEP FEELINGS, 1933-34

This song made a deep impact on me decades before I might have encountered the emotional situation it describes.  Perhaps it’s something about the intense but elliptical declaration of love: I am so deeply entranced by you that IF you decided to behave in opposition to those feelings I wouldn’t be able to “take it.”  “Baby.” By the way, singers could have a whole course of study focused on the ways each singer pronounces and phrases that meaningful word.

Here I present Thirties versions of this song (our friends Banu Gibson, Hanna Richardson, and Becky Kilgore have done more recent versions, as did Maxine Sullivan in Sweden, but that’s another blogpost; I’ve also skirted versions by Eddy Duchin, Frances Wayne, and a particularly raucous reading by Lionel Hampton from 1937).

I think you will hear why the song struck home, as well as understand my admiration for the singers and their particular approach to the material.  (And imagine a time when the jukebox would play new recordings by Jack Teagarden and Ethel Waters.  I know that had I been there, I would not be writing this blog, but still . . . . )  I also suspect that the connection between the Teagarden, Waters, Bullock recordings is the wonderfully omnipresent Victor Young, and that all the recordings use an arrangement by Arthur Schutt.

First, an unexpected pleasure — the Leo Reisman recording from December 28, 1933, with Thelma Nevins singing.  Years ago I would have scorned this as “just a dance-band record,” but it’s so pretty, and Miss Nevins does the song beautifully.  Google turns up no photographs of her, but she’s mentioned in an April 1939 Variety as a “svelte looker” and in a 1947 Billboard as singing at the Chateau in New York City, so she didn’t disappear, thankfully:

Now, the first of two 1933 versions for which I can offer personnel: Frank Guarente, Sterling Bose, trumpet; Jack Teagarden, trombone, vocal; Chester Hazlett, Jimmy Dorsey, clarinet, alto saxophone; Mutt Hayes, clarinet, tenor saxophone; Walter Edelstein, violin; Joe Meresco, piano; Perry Botkin, guitar;  Artie Bernstein, string bass; Larry Gomar, drums; Victor Young, director. New York, November 11, 1933.  Jack only sings; before this, on the session, he recorded two takes of A HUNDRED YEARS FROM TODAY:

Jack takes it fairly briskly — one would think “matter-of-factly,” but listen to his variations on “Baby.”

Here’s Ethel Waters, accompanied by Benny Goodman and his Orchestra: Ethel Waters; Charlie Teagarden, Shirley Clay, trumpet; Jack Teagarden; Benny Goodman; Art Karle, tenor saxophone; Joe Sullivan, piano; Dick McDonough,  guitar; Artie Bernstein, string bass; Gene Krupa, drums.  (Two takes were issued; only one shows up on YouTube.)  New York, November 27, 1933  (the session at which Billie Holiday recorded her first side — YOUR MOTHER’S SON-IN-LAW, also written by Nichols and Hollner — with the same band.  Ethel went first, as befitting a Star, with two takes of HUNDRED and of BABY.  And please notice that although Victor Young saw Jack as vocalist only on his own date, he is memorable, as is Benny, in duet with Ethel as if two voices.)

Her reading, and I mean this as a compliment, is dramatic — a three-minute stage play, with deep feeling throughout.  Her enunciation, her phrasing, her wit and sorrow, are all unforgettable.  I know there was a massive and unsparing biography a few years ago, but where is the Ethel Waters celebration?  She was extraordinary:

Here are a few happy meanderings on the theme, first, a quick instrumental version from the “Bill Dodge” transcription session (circa February 10-28, 1934) featuring Benny Goodman and a nearly savage Bunny Berigan out front.  The collective personnel according to Tom Lord is Berigan, Manny Klein, Shirley Clay, trumpet; Joe Harris, Jack Jenney, or Larry Alpeter, trombone; Benny Goodman, clarinet; Hank Ross, Arthur Rollini, tenor saxophone; Arthur Schutt, piano; Dick McDonough, guitar; Artie Bernstein, string bass; Gene Krupa, Sammy Weiss, or Stan King, drums:                      :

Finally, Chick Bullock and his Levee Loungers from December 12, 1933. He’s accompanied by Guarente, Tommy and Jimmy Dorsey, Hazlett, Hayes, Edelstein, Moresco, Botkin, Bernstein, and Gomar.  I like Chick’s singing a great deal but no singer should have to follow Ethel:

In researching this post, I found a scholarly essay (scholarly in its digging, not in its stuffiness) about Alberta Nichols and Mann Hollner, who were married.  The writer, Molly Ruggles, is much more fascinated by UNTIL THE REAL THING COMES ALONG than this song, but the piece is well worth reading.

I JUST COULDN’T TAKE IT BABY is the real thing for those who feel.

May your happiness increase!

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“F’R INSTANCE”: DANCE WITH JACK PURVIS, SMITH BALLEW, and PAULETTE GODDARD

I know it’s an unlikely trio.  But permit me and “Atticus70” some small poetic license.  His YouTube channel — intoxicating in so many ways — is Atticus70.

These two 78 sides, lovingly restored, present more music by trumpeter Jack Purvis and his expert colleagues: Purvis, t / Bobby Davis, Pete Pumiglio, cl, as;  Sam Ruby, ts;  probably Sid Harris, Joe LaFaro, Al Duffy, vn; Jack Russin, p; Tommy Felline, g;  Ward Lay, sb; Stan King, d; Smith Ballew and two others, v. New York, June 12, 1930.

I can’t decide whether F’R INSTANCE is a frail example of the “conditional love song”: IF I were to say these words, how would you take them — passionate love songs for timid wooers — or if it has its own charm. It does seem to borrow so much from the Paul Denniker – Andy Razaf S’POSIN, doesn’t it?

About Paulette Goddard I will only say that we see why Chaplin fell for her, and that those photos (continued below) show that her beauty shone through no matter what the setting.

Here is the “hotter” side — giving Purvis more space — I LOVE YOU SO MUCH:

A few more words about Purvis.  Were you to take all the stories about him to heart, he seems a truly unbalanced figure: someone without the internal signal to say, “That’s a bad idea,” or “That’s wrong: leave it alone!”  Liar, kleptomaniac, someone unwilling to distinguish between your property and his.  Purvis as a larger-than-life mythic figure seems outlandishly charming now precisely because we are far away from him; there is no chance to Jack will rise from the grave to swindle us at the supermarket.  But these two 78 sides show us a player perfectly in command of his instrument, absolutely masterful in the sound, attack, and tonality he gets — one couldn’t be a madman, out of control, in the recording studios . . . and it’s clear that Purvis is more than the pathological personality he’s been depicted as — someone able to convey great sweetness through those unforgiving coils of brass.  Listen closely again to the winsome, pleading sound he gets from his trumpet: it’s a marvel.

For those who want to hear more of Jack and read about his exploits, this is the only place: a masterpiece of research and music: the Jazz Oracle three-disc set devoted to him: http://www.jazzoracle.com/

Another postscript: ten years ago I would have been somewhat impatient with the general sweet-band aura of both of these sides. I would have looked at my watch, waiting for the moment when the Hot Man blasted his way out of the sweetness for eight or sixteen bars.  I haven’t changed so radically as to start an Eddy Duchin collection, but it takes just as much integrity and control to make pretty sounds as it does hot ones.  In an interview with Ruby Braff, the interviewer spoke slightingly of the least-jazzlike band he could think of, which happened to be Sammy Kaye.  Ruby, characteristically, spoke his mind: “If I had Sammy Kaye here I would kiss him.  You had to be a MUSICIAN to play in one of those bands!”  Everyone on the sides above, including Smith Ballew, was a MUSICIAN — and is there higher praise?

LIGHTS OUT (CLOSE YOUR EYES AND DREAM OF ME)

In the name of accuracy, I must report that other copies of the sheet music for this song (circa 1935-6) have Kate Smith on the cover, so I don’t know if Louis ever performed it.  But he did record Hill’s THERE’S A CABIN IN THE PINES, and he would have known his friend Bing’s recording of THE LAST ROUNDUP.  The song seems to have been more popular with sweet bands — the lyrics below are connected in cyberspace to Eddy Duchin — but that doesn’t rule out Louis hearing or performing it, given his deep affinity for the Lombardo brothers. 

A tangential Louis-connection is that LIGHTS OUT was recorded by a jazz combo — with a vocal by Chick Bullock — under tenorist Art Karle’s nominal leadership (January 1936, Brunswick) with Mezz Mezzrow on clarinet, Joe Bushkin on piano and legendary drummer George Stafford as well as Frank Newton!

Beyond that, we have to imagine Louis tenderly asking the Beloved to close her eyes and dream of him.  I can hear the 1935 Decca band — think of THANKS A MILLION — doing this perfectly.  

The lyrics aren’t complex or striving for cleverness, but they’re very touching in their simplicity:

Lights out, sweetheart,
One more perfect day is through.
Lights out, sweetheart,
One more perfect dream come true.
We’ve reached the hour of parting,
So kiss me tenderly.
Lights out, sweetheart,
Close your eyes and dream of me.

Here’s a simple version of the melody, played sweetly by someone who may answer to “djweth”:

And a cover portrait of Billy Hill:

Let’s all sing!

And a postscript, sent to me from the invaluable Jack Rothstein, who knew “Arthur” Karle in Boston in the late Forties, about the LIGHTS OUT record date: “Arthur Karle told me they needed a piano player so he called Bushkin.  His father answered the phone and told him Joey was at the movies.  Arthur persuaded him to go get him.  He went but they wouldn”t page him so he bought a ticket and from the balcony yelled for Joey to go home.  And that’s how Bushkin got his first recording date.  It was the little Loews on 86th St. between Lexington and Third, directly across the street from the Loews Orpheum (the big Loews).”

HAPPY FEET (June 8, 2010)

I made my way to the second Tuesday-night appearance of Vince Giordano and the Nighthawks (at Sofia’s in the Hotel Edison, 221 West 46th Street, from 8-11 PM Mondays and Tuesdays) and recorded this delightful vignette: HAPPY FEET.

Everyone associates this song with Paul Whiteman and Horace Henderson; on their records, it’s played at a seriously brisk tempo.  But there’s another contemporaneous version (1930, I think) that Leo Reisman and his Orchestra [with Eddy Duchin on piano!] recorded for Victor — at a groovy tempo, with a blistering growl solo by trumpeter Bubber Miley.  (I read recently on the very informative Bixography website that Miley was a favorite of Victor recording executive L.R. (“Loren”) Watson, who was so impressed by Bubber’s sound and ferocious heat that he insisted that bands — including Hoagy Carmichael’s — make room for a Miley solo on their recordings.)

Here, the Nighthawks are Alex Norris and Mike Ponella, trumpets; Jim Fryer, trombone; Dan Block, Will Anderson, and Andy Farber, reeds; Andy Stein, violin / baritone sax; Peter Yarin, piano; Vince himself on vocals, bass sax, tuba, string bass; Arnie Kinsella, drums and percussion. 

James Lake and Deirdre Towers are the elegant, energetic pair of dancers.  Give them a low-down beat and they begin dancing . . . !

Who wouldn’t be happy?