NRR Project: Highlander Center Field
Recording Collection
Curated by Frederick
C. Packard, Jr.
1930s – 1980s
The Highlander
Center is an alternative school in Tennessee, founded in 1932. It not only
taught traditional subjects, but pursued training in labor rights and civil
rights action. This decidedly liberal institution has become a magnet for those
interested in these subjects.
The National Recording Registry Project
tracks one writer’s expedition through all the recordings in the National
Recording Registry in chronological order. Next up: Suncook Town Tragedy.
I cannot do better
than the explanatory essay written by Matthew Rubery for the National Recording
Registry, which you can read here.
Basically, Professor
Frederick C. Packard, Jr. of Harvard decided that it was important for people
to hear poetry aloud, as opposed to the silent reading that had been going on
for centuries. He thought he’d record the great poets of his day, starting with
T.S. Eliot and continuing with hundreds of writers, including William Carlos
Williams, Wallace Stevens, Elizabeth Bishop, and Ezra Pound.
The result is
compendium of invaluable information regarding the author’s intent. To hear
them speak their own words strongly inflects the sense in which they express
themselves. The recordings are uneven in quality – not everyone is cut out to
perform their writing. However, when some fortunate, gripping recordings were
made, they reveal new bursts of nuance that help to set the writer down in
relation to his or her work.
Today, the Harvard
Vocarium still exists, and a substantial portion of it is available online,
here. A click on “the listening booth” tab on its site will lead you to selections
from the collection.
The National Recording
Registry Project tracks one writer’s expedition through all the recordings in
the National Recording Registry in chronological order. Highlander Center Field
Recording Collection.
Rodgers and Hart
were one of the first great songwriting teams of the 20th century. They
were introduced as young men in 1919, and soon began cranking out material together.
Richard Rodgers was an adept composer, and Lorenz “Larry” Hart was a master of
the lyric. By 1930, they had already crafted 17 Broadway shows, and several
hits, such as “Manhattan” and You Took Advantage of Me.”
“Ten Cents a
Dance” was written for the show Simple Simon, starring Ed Wynn, in 1930.
At an opening performance of the musical in Boston, the singer for whom the
song was written, Lee Morse, showed up drunk. She was fired, and Ruth Etting
was called on to take her place.
Etting was
riding high as well. She had started her singing career in clubs in Chicago. In
1922, she met Martin Snyder, a gangster better known as “Moe the Gimp.”
Insanely jealous, controlling, and violent, he took over Etting’s career, using
threats and intimidation to get her better gigs, recording contracts, and radio
appearances. (Their dysfunctional relationship was outlined in the film Love
Me or Leave Me in 1955.) She was a popular star, one whose performance could
make a hit out of a song. This Etting did.
“Ten Cents a
Dance” outlines the melancholy prospects of a “taxi dancer.” A taxi dancer is
someone who dances with customers for a fee, a formerly popular vocation in
formerly popular places termed “dance halls.” The dancer would charge ten cents
a dance – and she and the hall would split the money.
The singer
bemoans her fate, as she must dance with whoever chooses her as a partner.
“Ten cents a
dance
That's what they
pay me
Gosh, how they
weigh me down
Ten cents a
dance
Pansies and
rough guys
Tough guys who
tear my gown
Seven to
midnight I hear drums
Loudly the
saxophone blows
Trumpets are
breaking my eardrums
Customers crush
my toes
Sometime I think
I've found my
hero
But it's a queer
romance
All that you
need is a ticket
Come on, big
boy, ten cents a dance”
The plaintive
situation is fully revealed in Etting’s plaintive vocal. She’s sad and
complaining, but she also wields a rueful sense of humor. She doesn’t ask to be
freed from her work, she just views it as a means to an end. It stinks, but it’s
what she’s got.
The song would
inspire a movie of the same name in 1931. Rodgers and Hart would continue to
craft songs until Hart’s death in 1943. Etting would retire in 1937, after a
messy divorce and shooting scandal impacted her career. Soon dance halls would
die off, leaving only this unique artifact behind.
The National
Recording Registry Project tracks one writer’s expedition through all the
recordings in the National Recording Registry in chronological order. Next up: the
Harvard Vocarium record series.
I could hardly
do better than the explanatory essay by Linda Dahl, which you can read here. As
her biographer, Dahl offers not just a musical evaluation, but an extremely
painful personal narrative that underlies the 1930 recording session that gave
birth to “Night Life”.
A child prodigy,
Williams was not content with merely being an interpreter of others’ music. She
was a gifted composer and arranger, and found herself working with Andy Kirk
and his Twelve Clouds of Joy. While the band was setting up for a recording
session in Chicago, Williams was asked to improvise a couple of solo numbers. Out
of this came “Nite Life,” and “Drag ‘Em,” two classic tracks. (Dahl clearly
outlines the terrible personal circumstances suffered by Williams right before
this session.)
The piece is
sprightly and inventive, working on a bluesy foundation. Williams does frills
and fills, modulates and gets down and dirty, bringing it all to conclusion
with a twinge of whimsy. Few are the times when a young genius makes their mark
so clearly and distinctly.
The National
Recording Registry Project tracks one writer’s expedition through all the
recordings in the National Recording Registry in chronological order. Next up: Ten Cents a Dance.
This is one I don’t
have a lot of information on, and only a small excerpt to listen to online. I
refer you to the excellent, comprehensive essay by Steven Pecsek. Between 1926
and 1934, there was a National High School Band contest. This recording was
made in 1930. There was a small trade in commemorative albums of the high
school bands’ performances, used sometimes for fundraising purposes as well.
The Modesto High School Band ranked highly in these competitions.
The National
Recording Registry Project tracks one writer’s expedition through all the
recordings in the National Recording Registry in chronological order. Next up: Night Life.
It’s interesting
that a song I thought of as an upbeat bluegrass tune started off as a slowly
paced blues song. Once again, the National Recording Registry holds an
excellent explanatory essay on it by Edward Komara, which you can read here.
The Mississippi
Sheiks were a duo that consisted of Walter Vinson on violin and Lonnie Chatmon
on guitar. They played in central Mississippi, and probably would have been
forgotten if not for the success of this unique song. It was recorded when Polk
Brockman of Okeh Records caught them at a remote recording session in
Shreveport, Louisiana in 1930. The song was a hit, and sustained the duo
through their career together.
The lyrics are counterintuitive. Instead of
lamenting the loss of a lover, the singer declares, “Now she’s gone, and I don’t
worry/For I’m sittin’ on top of the world.” This defiant, proud statement overcomes
the sorrow that the singer is feeling. (The title may have come from the 1925
pop song, “I’m Sitting on Top of the World,” made popular by Al Jolson.)
Almost immediately, others began to cover the tune,
in all kinds of styles. Among those artists were Milton Brown and His Musical
Brownies, Bob Wills and His Texas Playboys, bluegrass creator Bill Monroe, Howlin’
Wolf, Cream, and the Grateful Dead. Each brought their unique perspective to
the song, bending it into many shapes, generally with a faster tempo, until the
song became a rollicking, happy one.
The National
Recording Registry Project tracks one writer’s expedition through all the
recordings in the National Recording Registry in chronological order. Next up:
the Modesto High School Band plays Beethoven’s Egmont Overture.
For the sake of
completeness, however, I will do my best to summarize. “Borincano” derives from
the native slang for Puerto Rico. The song is a lament from the person of a
peasant bringing his wares to town, only to find it deserted. The song becomes
larger in scope, as the singer contemplates the sorry state of his homeland,
before pledging his loyalty to it.
“The entire
morning goes by
Without anyone
wanting
To buy his load,
oh to buy his load
Everything,
everything is deserted
And the town is
full of need
Oh, of need
The mourning is
heard everywhere
In my unhappy
Bonrinquen, yeah
And sad, the peasant
goes
Thinking, saying
Crying like this
on the way:
‘What will
happen to Bonriquen, my dear God
What will happen
to my children and mt home?’ Oh!
Bonriquen, the
land of Eden
The one that
when sung by the great Gautier
He called out
the pearl of the Seas
‘Now that you
lay dying from your sorrows
Let me sing to
you also
Bonriquen of my
love’, and no one will take that away
I’m a child of
Bonriquen and no one will change that
I’m a child of
Bonriquen and no one will change that
And on the day
that I die, I want to rest in you
I love you,
Puerto Rico, and no one will take that away,
Yeah!”
The song was an
immense hit, and made the careers of its writer, Rafael Hernandez; of its original
bandleader, “Canario”, and its singer “Davilita.” It has since been recorded innumerable
times, serving as an informal anthem.
The National
Recording Registry Project tracks one writer’s expedition through all the
recordings in the National Recording Registry in chronological order. Next up: Sitting on Top of the World.
