NRR Project: Frank Proffitt performs "Tom Dooley" (1940)

 

NRR Project: “Tom Dooley”

Folk tune

Performed by Frank Proffitt, vocal and banjo

Recorded 1940

2:44

First of all, go to this excellent National Recording Registry essay by Ross Hair. I can only reiterate his information and provide a personal perspective.

This timeless murder ballad was created in the wake of a true crime – the murder of Laura Foster by Tom Dula in Happy Valley, North Carolina in 1866. Everybody seems to know it; its most famous iteration was by the Kingston Trio in 1958. It sparked the Great Urban Folk Revival of the 1960s, and marked the American transition from the playing of and listening to traditional music to the ups and downs of the singer-songwriter era.

The song has inspired numerous books and examinations of its origin and development. It was first sung by Frank Proffitt to folksong collectors Anne and Frank Warner in 1937; they recorded him the following year. Frank Warner performed it himself; it wound up in John and Alan Lomax’s collection “Folk Song USA” in 1947. Once it became a smash hit, the differing generators of the song and the Trio had litigation over its publishing rights.

It’s a simple, straightforward song, instantly memorable. It recommends that its subject cry, and pities him; ironically, the real Tom Dula was a cold-blooded murderer. The Dooley of the song reckons he is doomed, resignedly. There was something romantic in his resignation. Proffitt intones the words with a flat voice, subdued, the ring of his banjo undergirds him.

There are, of course, more and variant lyrics by the score. There are lyrics in Proffitt’s version that don’t appear in the Kingston Trio’s recording.

“I’ll take down my banjo

And pick it on my knee

By this time tomorrow

It’ll be no use to me.”

It’s one of the first songs I remember. The Kingston Trio were gods in our home, right up there with Pete Seeger and Peter, Paul, and Mary and Joan Baez. We played their records incessantly, sang along in harmonies . . . for this was the era of the hootenanny! When everyone sang along. Everyone was singing together – there were the sing-ins of the civil rights protestors; there was Mitch Miller  and his Gang broadcasting “Sing Along with Mitch” (1961-1964). In fact, on TV "Hootenany" (1963-1964) bred "Shindig!" (1964-1966) and "Hullabaloo" (1965-1966).

Everybody was singing or listening to “Tom Dooley.” There were no Beatles yet. The British had not Invaded. It was all folk, everybody participated. It was very wholesome, strikingly innocent now, as most of the dirtier and more lurid authentic folk songs were cleaned up and made family-friendly for the huge American audience. A more optimistic time it was.

It was so familiar that the Smother Brothers parodied it to a T (referencing the publishing rights lawsuits, but funny even if you don’t know that), producing “Tom Crudely” on their 1961 debut album. Their alternate lyrics -- “Poor boy, you’re hung” – still kill today. It’s a testament as to how deep the song imbedded itself in our consciousness.

The National Recording Registry Project tracks one writer’s expedition through all the recordings in the National Recording Registry in chronological order. Next time: Roland Hayes sings ‘Were You There’.

NRR Project: Art Tatum plays "Sweet Lorraine" (1940)

 

NRR Project: “Sweet Lorraine”

Music by Cliff Burwell; lyrics by Mitchell Parrish

Performed by Art Tatum, piano

Recorded 1940

4:20

Art Tatum (1909-1956) was a true prodigy. Nearly blind since birth, he picked up the piano on his own and became one of its greatest masters.

Tatum was known best as a solo pianist. His great strength was his ability to synthesize. He listened to and studied all kinds of music, from classical to pop to jazz; he took those influences and juggled them effortlessly, combining completely differing and seemingly inimical chord progressions, rhythm changes, and note selections, all at a blisteringly fast pace.

He was an interpretive artist. He covered all manner of jazz standards. His playing was compulsive – after an evening’s performance, he would continue to play in after-hours sessions until the dawn. (It is said that his creativity was even more pronounced in these informal performances. They were fueled by his legendary consumption of beer and whisky.)

He would pile chord on chord, making sweeping, eloquent gestures with his keys that nobody could match. His technique was flawless; he mounted on that solid basis to improvise with great range and detail. His work needs to be heard attentively (he often insisted that food or drink not be sold during his performances; he liked the English audiences because they shut up and listened to him). His sound is thick; it’s meaty stuff.

Tatum recorded “Sweet Lorraine” 21 times during his career; each one is distinctive. He was lucky to have found engineers and producers who wanted to get his irreplaceable sound on tape. Tatum was a critics’ darling, never a popular success. He was “classical” in his approach; he did not succumb to the lure of bebop.

It only remains for the interested listener to tune in and harken carefully to his full, rich sound and amazing prowess.

The National Recording Registry Project tracks one writer’s expedition through all the recordings in the National Recording Registry in chronological order. Next time: the birth of Tom Dooley.

NRR Project: Stravinsky conducts 'The Rite of Spring' (1940)

 

NRR Project: “The Rite of Spring”

Composed by Igor Stravinsky

Conducted by Igor Stravinsky

New York Philharmonic

Recorded 1940

30:56

Composer Edgard Varese, who was there at its premiere in Paris on May 29, 1913, at the Theatre des Champs-Elysees, described its “cruel harmonies.” Its composer Stravinsky described the crowd’s reaction to it as a “terrific uproar.” It changed music forever. It was decades ahead of its time. It is called the most significant musical composition of the century, the founding document of modernism.

It is wildly jagged, staggered, and dissonant. It ignores all the rules of classical music; it brashly tears through a seemingly willy-nilly collection of percussive, atonal, compelling music. Wildly irrational, seemingly. It confounded the orchestra; the premiere’s conductor had to tell the players not to stop and point out what they thought were wrong notes. The orchestra laughed at one point; Stravinsky lit into them.

It began its life as the music for the dance of the same name via the famous Ballets Russes, led by the legendary impresario, Serge Diaghilev (1872-1929). He was a pivotal figure in the history of the avant-garde in European art at the time. It is he who elevated dancer and choreographer Vaslav Nijinsky (1888-1950) to prominence; he was known for his commissioning the most forward-thinking of compositions for his ballet troupe.

Stravinsky (1882-1971) was an ambitious composer, having previously penned for Diaghilev the successful scores for Firebird (1910) and Petrushka (1911). Rite of Spring was different, an urgent, lurching explosion of sound. He now put himself in the service of anarchic impulses, taking incredible chances musically and breaking the future of music out and away from its point of origin in, remarkably, Russian folk music. It has inspired more recordings than any other 20^th century piece; it has inspired many books. Its relevance to modern culture is persistent.

The setting is pagan Russia. A woman predicts the future. Young girls dance together. Two groups rival each other on stage. A sage blesses the Earth. There is ecstatic dancing. Next comes a “mystic circle” of girls, after which one of the girls is selected as the sacrificial victim. She dances herself to death.

At the work’s premiere, many booed – it is said, at Nijinksky’s bizarre choreography – and many others fought back. The crowd came, for a time, undone; the performance became legendary.

Stravinsky turned it into a concert piece; he toured it for years, tinkering with it until late in his career. It is siad that this recording, with the New York Philharmonic in 1940, most closely qualifies as the composer’s preferred performance of the work. This was also the year in which the Rite had been used by Disney as a setting for a sequence in that company’s Fantasia. The story of the evolution of the dinosaurs was a natural fit for the music; it made the piece a part of the cultural mainstream.

The National Recording Registry Project tracks one writer’s expedition through all the recordings in the National Recording Registry in chronological order. Next time: Art Tatum plays Sweet Lorraine.

NRR Project: 'San Antonio Rose' (1940)

 

NRR Project: “New San Antonio Rose”

Bob Wills and his Texas Playboys

Recorded April 16, 1940

2:37

Is there a happier sound to be heard than this? The jaunty, bouncy sound of fiddler and bandleader Bob Wills and his Texas Playboys marks the birth of the unusual musical hybrid known as Western swing.

Wills was born in 1905 in Texas, the son of a champion fiddler. Growing up, he absorbed all kinds of American musical influences – country and Western, but also blues, jazz, and folk. He worked as a barber and played after hours. Gradually he built up his skills as a fiddler, a vocalist, a joke-cracking emcee, and even an enthusiastic on-stage dancer. He developed the habit of calling out during songs and making comments as he played, leading to an instantly identifiable style.

When he put his own band together, it originally consisted of the usual assortment of Western instruments, but he gradually began to add such things as trumpet, saxophone, drums, and slide guitar (the last played by the phenomenal Leon McAuliffe). Arrangements grew more complex. His music moved into tunes that got folks out on the dance floor. It was country, but country with a beat. Country that swung!

“San Antonio Rose” was originally recorded as an instrumental in 1938, and soon became the band’s signature tune. Wills and his compatriots concocted plaintive lyrics to go with the tune, and they re-recorded the tune with them on April 16, 1940. The new version shot to the top of the charts. The words of the song are belied by the warm, upbeat, propulsive music that accompanies it, with a full orchestral sound that’s intoxicating. No wonder Wills is referred to as the king of Western swing.

The National Recording Registry Project tracks one writer’s expedition through all the recordings in the National Recording Registry in chronological order. Next time: Stravinsky conducts The Rite of Spring.

NRR Project: Bartok and Szigeti perform live -- April 13, 1940

 

NRR Project: Bela Bartok, piano; Joseph Szigeti, violin

Beethoven: Kreutzer Sonata

Bartok: Rhapsody No. 1 for Violin and Piano; Violin Sonata No. 2

Debussy: Violin Sonata

Recorded April 13, 1940, Library of Congress

1:09

Here is a case where I can only point you to the words of a real expert. Elliott Antokoletz’s magnificent explanatory essay will tell you everything there is to know about this performance. Access it here!

Although I am conversant with the history of classical music, I am unfamiliar with most of Bartok’s music . . . and what I’ve heard I haven’t enjoyed. I was introduced to classical music in a time when atonality was all the rage, and I conditioned myself to listen to it and appreciate it. Since those days, the genre has moved on though minimalism to a new kind of melodiousness, which is much more popular with the public.

This performance is engaging and technically brilliant, although I have not the bandwidth to explicate it for you.

The National Recording Registry Project tracks one writer’s expedition through all the recordings in the National Recording Registry in chronological order. Next time: Bob Wills and his Texas Playboys!

NRR Project: Arch Oboler's Plays: "The Bathysphere" (Nov. 18, 1939)

 

NRR Project: Arch Oboler’s Plays

“The Bathysphere”

Broadcast Nov. 18, 1939

30 min.

Arch Oboler was a very talented S.O.B. (Don’t look at me; his curmudgeonly reputation is attested to in John Dunning’s definitive radio encyclopedia On the Air. Read this book).

This prolific radio writer came to prominence due to his work on the network horror program Lights Out. This series was created by Wyllis Cooper, “the unsung pioneer of radio dramatic techniques,” himself an innovator in making radio compelling. That show started in April 1934. In May 1936, Cooper left the show and Oboler took over, and ran the show until July 1938.

Under his leadership, Lights Out produced such memorable chillers as "Cat Wife," "Revolt of the Worms," and "Chicken Heart." The show helpfully urged easily frightened listeners to turn off the show before it began . . . then told those who remained to “turn out your lights!” Boo!

Oboler had a new idea: wanting control over his product, he proposed writing, producing, and directing a series of half-hour radio plays himself. NBC bought it, and soon he became the head of “the first series of varied radio plays ever given to the works of one radio playwright.”

From March 1939 to March 1940, Arch Oboler’s Plays dealt with two main themes: horror and Oboler’s hatred of Hitler and Naziism, and he split his productions between these two poles. World War II had not begun when the show started, and some derided him for his anti-fascism. But Oboler could see the evil for what it was, and he denounced it steadily during his year on the air.

“The Bathysphere” is a typical Oboler offering; it contains excellent performances, spare but effective sound effects, and a nimbus of dread that hung over the proceedings. Oboler himself chants, to the chiming of a clock, “It . . . is . . . later . . . than . . . you . . . think!” Again, he encourages the timid to tune out.

It’s a two-player script. There is the Leader (George Zucco), a dictator looking for ways to aggrandize his name. With him is Eric (Hans Conreid) a marine scientist who takes the Leader down to the bottom of the sea in a bathysphere (as it sounds, a small round metal submersible which can sink to great ocean depths) to set a new world record.

The craft hits the seabed. Eric informs the Leader that radio communications have been cut, and that he has released the bathysphere from its connecting cable. He hopes to make the Leader go mad with fear. Interestingly, however, the Leader keeps his composure and defies Eric. He even demands a blunt instrument to smash the vessel’s glass in with.

Eric then reveals that, though he intended to kill the Leader and himself, he couldn’t go through with it. “What would have been the good of it? A fool and a figurehead die together. No good of it,” he says. He was bluffing. The Leader tells him he intends to have him shot when they get back to the surface.

It’s bleak and cynical, defeatist really, an odd direction for Oboler to go in, but you can see him resist taking the easy path of having the Leader come unglued on air. Oboler was trying to move through and past horror to real conversations about power, rebellion, and fate. His ambition is admirable.

One more episode of this series deserves to be remembered: the broadcast of March 9, 1940, featured an adaptation of Dalton Trumbo’s antiwar novel Johnny Got His Gun. This horrifying and deeply moving story of a soldier made into an extreme invalid was distinctly NOT the kind of fare the network wanted. But Oboler got his way – and he got James Cagney, who does a fantastic job, to star in it.

The National Recording Registry Project tracks one writer’s expedition through all the recordings in the National Recording Registry in chronological order. Next time: Carousel of American Music.

NRR Project: Premiere network broadcast of the Grand Ole Opry – Oct. 14, 1939

 

First of all, this explanatory essay on the Grand Ole Opry (the name is a backwoods, humorous corruption of “grand opera”) by Paul Kingsbury is a delight to read – clear and comprehensive. You should read it -- right now! Here’s the link. It celebrates a century of the revered program’s life. The “Grand Ole Opry” hit the air from Nashville, Tennessee, a powerhouse source of country and Western talent, on WSM on Nov. 28, 1925, and continues to this day.

Kingsbury’s iteration of the live half-hour opening network transmission is completely on target. I can only testify as to the musical influence the show wielded.

I was very young when I left the Midwest, but I remember people sitting down for it on a Saturday night, women wiping their hands on their aprons, eager to hear the music that ran through the show.

Its approach in this first network broadcast is pragmatic. It presents a slew of country, folk, and blues music in quick-marching order. There’s virtually no changeover time, it’s number after number, rapid-fire demonstrations of showmanship. The performers are remarkable, the best that could be found at that time, celebrating this heretofore little-known music, some destined to hit the big time due to their appearances here.

We heard country, folk, bluegrass, gospel. We knew this was the music real people listened to. We thought we were the real people.

We knew who Roy Acuff was, a voice if not of God then of soulfulness. We sang along to his “Great Speckled Bird,” a song he made good on. A melancholy Christian hymn, plaintive and solemn. (There were still parody lyrics of it banging around the place in my day, a sure sign of cultural currency.) We knew of Uncle Dave Macon. In this recording, we get a multiple dose of the then-elusive Fruit Jar Drinkers, led by Macon.

In many ways, it introduced a remarkable number of shades of country music, that sometimes-despised genre, to the nation. These were sharply distinct talents, the real thing at the speed of sound. There were the Dixie Clodhoppers, the Gully Jumpers, and the Hilltop Harmonizers. There were Bob Wills and Bill Monroe. It taught us the ins and outs of this indigenous music and all its permutations. Many musics sprang from this influential source. Many of the songs they sang were engraved on our memories.

Country music is memorable. It is melancholy. It’s catchy. It’s heartfelt. It is compelling. It’s Hank Williams on a Saturday at 8 p.m.

The National Recording Registry Project tracks one writer’s expedition through all the recordings in the National Recording Registry in chronological order. Next time: one of Arch Oboler’s Plays.