NRR Project: Duke Ellington: 'Never No More Lament: The Blanton-Webster Band' (1940-1942)

 

NRR Project: “Never No More Lament: The Blanton-Webster Band”

Music by Duke Ellington, Billy Strayhorn, Mercer Ellington and others

Performed by Duke Ellington and his Orchestra

Recorded 1940-1942

225 min.

I have been listening to this Duke Ellington material for a week, and I am a better man for it.

Edward Kennedy “Duke” Ellington (1899-1974) was, quite simply America’s greatest jazz composer. He led bands of varying composition throughout his career. He is distinguished for the marvelous complexity of his musical statements, which absolutely burst the bounds of the genre. Nobody could communicate more original ideas than he (and his fellow composer/arrangers and musical contributors Billy Strayhorn and Mercer Ellington).

Ellington could hear the complete range of what a jazz ensemble could convey. The sounds issued from his mind with ease into the scores, the rehearsals, the frequent performances on tour. For Ellington tested the merit of his tunes and arrangements night after night in front of paying crowds. He had a living feedback system that he used to hone his work. He was peddling popular music -- much like Mozart!

As a composer/performer/bandleader (he started as an acclaimed pianist), he could select his musicians carefully and with an ear for their particular strengths to which he could then write. He was like a painter with a box of living brushes. The collaboration is heavenly.

The control and precision of his group is legendary. The time period covered in the selection, recorded between 1940 and 1942, feature bassist Jimmy Blanton and tenor saxophonist Ben Webster. (Blanton bowed out due to a terminal case of tuberculosis at age 23, in 1941.) The rest of the ensemble are all-stars: there is Barney Bigard, Cootie Williams, Ray Nance, Juan Tizol. Ellington had these brilliant talents at his disposal, and he used them with verve and distinction.

Each number here is solidly within the jazz tradition. It is devastatingly tasteful. It is classic. It is ostensibly danceable, but I can’t but see a dance floor stilled to listening to it, such are its pleasures. It conveys wild bliss (“Jump for Joy”) and deep sorrow (“Rocks in My Bed”). It contains many of his classic works, such as “Take the A Train,“ “Jack the Bear,” “Concerto for Cootie,” “C Jam Blues,” “Ko Ko,” and “Cotton Tail,” but every cut is extraordinary.

Due to the limitations of 78 rpm records, each composition could be no longer than three minutes long. In that time, Ellington has to state a theme, propose variations, open up passages for improvisation, and reach a conclusion. And he does, every time, in a variety of ways but always of himself. Every song is a little universe of its own, ticking along with perfect timing.

There are gems everywhere, “All Too Soon” and “Harlem Airshaft,” “Five O’Clock Whistle” and "I Don’t Know What Kind of Blues I Got.” It pays to plow through these 66 recordings (there are extra takes of some of the numbers here as well) over and over again. Although many of his songs bear lyrics, they are at best pure music – the evocation of humanity’s thoughts and feelings at a time when great music and popular music intersected.

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 Budapest Quartet performs the Beethoven String Quartets (1940-1950).

NRR Project: 'Selections from George Gershwin’s Folk Opera Porgy and Bess' (1940, 1942)

 

NRR Project: “Selections from George Gershwin’s Folk Opera Porgy and Bess”

Music by George Gershwin; book, DuBose Heyward; lyricist Ira Gershwin

Performed by Todd Duncan, Anne Brown, et al; Decca Symphony Orchestra

Recorded 1940; 1942

This recording has a lengthy and convoluted evolution.

First of all, nobody really liked the original production in 1935; it didn’t last that long in its run (124 performances). Four days after it opened, George Gershwin supervised a recording of it in Manhattan; however, he booked two white singers – the great tenor Lawrence Tibbett and soprano Helen Jepson, instead of using the show’s original stars, Todd Duncan and Anne Brown! Why, Lord? The social climate must have still dictated that Caucasian singers were the only ones to properly interpret music. This kind of thinking would return in the 1950s, as record labels would take Black hits and re-record them with white groups to make them "acceptable."

A 1938 run of the show on the West Coast finally made the work popular. At that time, a few highlights from the production were put on record by Decca. Then, a 1942 Broadway revival caught fire and Decca decided to record many more passages from the show, and to release the 1940 material (featuring originals Duncan and Brown) and the cast of the subsequent recording session, using the 1942 personnel. Pieced together, it gives us 14 tracks in running order.

So it is not strictly speaking an original cast album, but it got the closest before the 1943 recording of Oklahoma!, which spawned the genre. (Oddly, Duncan sings Sportin’ Life’s “It Ain’t Necessarily So” here.)

Porgy and Bess is problematic in that it’s a show written by white people about Black life. DuBose Heyward, a white man, wrote the novel Porgy in 1925, and he worked with the Gershwins on the theatrical adaptation. The setting is “atmospheric;” the poor quarters of Catfish Row, Charlestown, South Carolina serve as a kind of sociological backdrop to the material. The dialogue is in “Black” dialect. It has been derided for simplifying Black behavior, of a kind of anthropological condescension.

Despite this, the opera works because of its intense emotional power. It’s a classic story of thwarted love, a universal experience. It contains some of the most memorable songs in the catalog: not just “Summertime” but “Bess, You Is My Woman Now,” “I Got Plenty O Nuttin,” and “It Ain’t Necessarily So” but also with the wrenching “My Man’s Gone Now,” “I Loves You Porgy” and the compelling hurricane scene.

Porgy is a disabled beggar, kind-hearted and noble. Bess is a young woman, the girl of a brute named Crown. Crown murders a man and escapes; Porgy takes Bess in. In the wings, Sportin’ Life, the local dope peddler, emerges and puts the moves on Bess himself.

Eventually, Porgy murders Crown, and is hauled away as a witness to the crime. Sportin’ Life lures Bess to go to New York. Porgy returns from jail to find Bess gone. He vows to follow her and win her back.

Simple. It’s a great story. It goes from one marvelous tune to another; it contains two of the most passionate duets in operatic literature. It makes you curse the gods that Gershwin died so young, at age 38 in 1937. What more might he have done? Ira Gershwin continued as a lyricist with other composers, but this was his crowning achievement.

The National Recording Registry Project tracks one writer’s expedition through all the recordings in the National Recording Registry in chronological order. Next time: Duke Ellington’s Blanton-Webster era recordings (1940-1942).

 

NRR Project: Jimmie Davis sings 'You Are My Sunshine' (1940)

 

NRR Project: “You Are My Sunshine”

Music and lyrics by: disputed

Performed by Jimmie Davis with Charles Mitchell’s Orchestra

Recorded 1940

2:40

I must point you to Ronnie Pugh’s essay on this song at theNational Recording Registry. It is excellent!

Jimmie Davis (1899-2000) was an aspiring performer and an aspiring politician as well. Born and raised in Louisiana, he made his name in the early 1930s with songs such as “Nobody’s Darling But Mine” and “It Makes No Difference Now.” He parlayed his singing notoriety into two non-consecutive terms as Louisiana’s governor.

He heard the song “You Are My Sunshine” when its purported creator, Paul Rice, played it for him in 1939. Rice sold the song to Davis and Charles Mitchell for $35 – he needed the money for his wife’s hospital bill. (It was routine at the time for performers to buy songs from songwriters and take over the copyright themselves.)

The song is plaintive, and the lyrics are sad. However, the chorus is, pardon the expression, sunny. The song has been planted in our consciousness so strongly that it is difficult to remember that it is a classic country song. It has been recorded by more than 350 artists and has been translated into 30 languages.

I used to sing this little ditty to my children at bedtime – and so it passes on to the next generation.

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 ‘original’ cast album of ‘Porgy and Bess.’

NRR Project: Roland Hayes sings 'Were You There' (1940)

 

NRR Project: “Were You There (When They Crucified My Lord)”

Spiritual

Performed by Roland Hayes

Recorded 1940

4:24

First, I must direct you to Randye Jones’ excellent essay on this subject at the National Recording Registry. It is comprehensive, well-researched, and detailed; I can only reprise it.

Roland Hayes (1887-1977) was a member of the Fisk Jubilee Singers, first of all. This Black collegiate singing ensemble overcame vast amounts of prejudice to become the premier interpreters of American spirituals, delivering them in arrangements that are now canonical. This Nashville, Tennessee university choir, formed in 1871, barnstormed across the country to raise money for their institution. They succeeded, and exist to this day. You can read more about the Fisk Jubilee Singers at my 2010 essay on the subject.

Hayes, a tenor, was therefore well-versed in choral singing and in interpreting traditional melodies. To this he added expertise in the classical repertoire as well.  Due to continuing prejudice, he found his way as an interpretive soloist barred. Like Marian Anderson, he found acceptance and success in Europe. He had experimented with pressing records through Columbia as early as 1918; in 1939, he returned to Columbia with pianist Reginald Boardman to make some more recordings.

His rendition of this spiritual is a capella. By this time in his career, Hayes had married impeccable technical skills with deep feeling, giving a resonant and moving experience to any listener. He delivers the material with extreme seriousness and gravity; his ability to play the lyrics is unmatched. This recording is a stirring human document well worthy of inclusion in the Registry.

The National Recording Registry Project tracks one writer’s expedition through all the recordings in the National Recording Registry in chronological order. Next time: Jimmie Davis sings ‘You are My Sunshine.’

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.