Three Perfect Minutes

An Ending and a Beginning (1939)

2011-06-19T06:00:00.010-04:00

As the decade drew to an end, 1939 was a light year for the blues in general, but the following two classics are heavy-hitters: a haunting, posthumous Delta ballad and a riveting folk-blues debut.

Robert Johnson
“Love in Vain Blues” (Vocalion 04630, 1939)

This posthumous single is Johnson’s most lovely recording, and one of the greatest odes to unrequited love in the history of the blues. Like so many blues songs, the story it tells is simple on its surface, but the delivery adds a depth of emotion that words cannot convey. Johnson plays a simple melody and keeps a slow, steady beat on guitar while calmly singing the melancholy lyrics about a departing lover: “When the train rolled up to the station, and I looked her in the eye / Well, I felt lonesome, I was lonesome, and I could not help but cry.” The emotional highpoint comes at the end when Johnson softly wails several wordless lines (save for the name of the departing lover: “Ooo, Willie Mae!”), before ending the song with a matter-of-fact statement: “All my love’s in vain.”

~ You may also like: Robert Johnson, “Kindhearted Woman Blues” (Vocalion 03416, 1937)

Lead Belly
“Gallis Pole” (Musicraft 227, 1939; Negro Sinful Songs, Musicraft 31, 1939)

John Lomax discovered Huddie Ledbetter while the latter was serving a sentence for attempted murder at the Angola Prison Farm in Louisiana. Ledbetter, who went by the nickname Lead Belly, was a jewel of a find, a gifted singer and twelve-string guitarist with a diverse repertoire of folk and blues songs, many of his own composition. Once out of prison, he began a long recording career that established him as one of the most influential folk singers in history.

“Gallis Pole” is one of his best and most influential early recordings, and would later inspire Led Zeppelin’s “Gallows Pole.” It is a good demonstration of Lead Belly’s ability to interweave spoken and sung parts and evolve lyrical and melodic themes throughout the course of a song. The story itself is fascinating (a jailed man tries to raise enough money to bribe his way out of being executed), and the performance is mesmerizing: a fast, ever-changing rhythm on guitar married to increasingly frantic vocals.

~ You may also like: Lead Belly, “Alberta” (unreleased ARC recording from 1935; Includes Legendary Performances Never Before Released, Fantasy F-24715, 1952)

Vocals in the Spotlight (1939)

2011-06-12T06:00:00.012-04:00

The following tracks all share one thing in common: exceptional vocal performances that transcended the expectations of their time. Whether adding vocals to a beloved instrumental, forging a new vocal group style, crafting a timeless classic or breaking the mold for singing cowboys, these recordings are all worth repeated listens.

Larry Clinton and His Orchestra featuring Bea Wain
“Deep Purple” (Victor 26141, 1939)

Larry Clinton was the first to record the standard “Deep Purple” with lyrics, and the result was one of the loveliest pop singles of the big band era. Much of the credit is due to singer Bea Wain in what may be the most expressive performance of her career. Her voice is simply amazing here, wrapping itself around the lyrics like deep purple silk – soft, billowing and fluid. In the end, neither the music nor the lyrics make a lasting impression: all you remember is that luxurious voice.

~ You may also like: Bea Wain, “Kiss the Boys Goodbye” (Victor 27445, 1941)

The Ink Spots
“If I Didn’t Care” (Decca 2286, 1939)

The Ink Spots
“My Prayer” (Decca 2790, 1939)

The Ink Spots were the first of what would become a tradition of African American vocal groups that would set the stage for doo-wop in the 1950s and soul in the 1960s. Building on earlier vocal traditions, including the novelty “jive” that had become popular among small, jazz-oriented groups, the Ink Spots developed their own style of romantic, expressive ballads. These two records from early in their career are great examples of their style.

“If I Didn’t Care” was the group’s first big hit. The wonderful vocals alone would most likely have cemented this in musical history: over light, jazzy accompaniment, tenor Bill Kenny sings in a subtly quivering falsetto over top-notch harmony humming from the others. But the additional touches make this song even more remarkable. The first is a persuasive spoken interlude by bass Orville “Hoppy” Jones, something that would become a trademark for the group and served to “break down the wall” between band and listener, making the song that much more intimate. The second added touch is the remarkably harmonious group scat singing at the very end, which mellows a convention of jazz into something new, accessible and exciting.

~ You may also like: The Ink Spots, “We Three (My Echo, My Shadow and Me)” (Decca 3379, 1940)

“My Prayer” is even lovelier than its predecessor, an unabashedly sentimental record that takes full advantage of the group’s dreamy harmonies. Once again, Hoppy Jones gives a spoken interlude, but instead of introducing something new, he merely repeats the lyrics from the first verse, underlining their importance: “My prayer is to linger with you / At the end of each day in a dream that’s divine / My prayer is a rapture in blue / With the world far away and your lips close to mine.”

~ You may also like: The Ink Spots, “Java Jive” (Decca 3432, 1940)

Judy Garland
“Over the Rainbow” (Decca 2672, 1939)

There was a distinctiveness to the way that Judy Garland annunciated sounds, as if the song within was bursting through and it was all her mouth could do to sculpt it into words as it passed by. Her big, bright voice on “Over the Rainbow” is even more remarkable when you consider that she was only sixteen when she recorded it. Taken from 1939’s The Wizard of Oz, both song and film have endured as timeless classics. Garland would star in several more hit Hollywood musicals, but she would never top the inspirational performance she gives on this record.

~ You may also like: Walter Huston, “September Song” (Brunswick 8272, 1938)

Gene Autry
“Back in the Saddle Again” (Vocalion 05080, 1939)

Gene Autry began his career as a straightforward country singer, but he would soon become Hollywood’s number-one singing cowboy. “Back in the Saddle Again” is his signature song and a great example of why he made such a believable cowboy. His voice is strong and pleasant, but never flashy, and his inviting southern plains accent and everyman delivery are instantly ingratiating. The bouncing, western swing-inspired music gives the record a certain rough-around-the-edges polish, and the lyrics are the kind of fun, lighthearted cowboy material that audiences ate up: “I’m back in the saddle again / Out where a friend is a friend / Where the longhorn cattle feed on the lowly gypsum weed / Back in the saddle again.”

~ You may also like: Gene Autry, “The Last Round-up” (Banner 32886, 1933)

Jazz Evolving (1939)

2011-06-05T06:00:00.002-04:00

In 1939, big band jazz was making its mark on the American musical landscape, but jazz had not decided to sit still. Out of the limelight, jazz artists were continuing to push boundaries, as they had done from the beginning. The following tracks show the result of some of that innovation and the hints of things to come.

Coleman Hawkins
“Body and Soul” (Bluebird B-10523, 1939)

Recorded as an afterthought, “Body and Soul” is a sublime masterpiece and the single greatest accomplishment of Coleman Hawkins’ distinguished career. The song was already a pop standard, and remains so, but Hawkins’ performance is far from definitive, having less to do with the song itself than with the style and mood of his playing. With minimal accompaniment, Hawkins’ tenor saxophone paints a picture as revolutionary for the jazz world as Louis Armstrong’s groundbreaking work more than a decade prior. Hawkins follows the harmonic structure of the song perfectly, so that one could easily imagine the lyrics being sung along, but he improvises the melody so much that it is hardly recognizable as the same song. This would become the norm in modern jazz, but it was all but unheard of in 1939. And yet, unlike the harsh, confused reaction that bebop would elicit a few years later, Hawkins’ style is so endearing that this approach is instantly accessible. His soft tone is comforting and his rich improvisation is conducted with a gentle grace so smooth that a listener might be persuaded to think that this was the original melody all along. Even towards the end, when the saxophone squeaks for dramatic effect, it is spellbinding rather than jarring. It is a stunning performance, one that really wouldn’t be matched again until the “cool jazz” movement a decade later.

~ You may also like this stunning, unaccompanied recording: Coleman Hawkins, “Picasso” (Mercury 2073, 1948)

Willie “The Lion” Smith
“Echoes of Spring” (Commodore 521, 1939)

William Henry Joseph Bonaparte Bertholoft Smith, nicknamed “The Lion” because of his bravery while serving in World War I, is one of the giants of the stride piano style, along with James P. Johnson and Fats Waller. His 1939 solo recordings, and particularly “Echoes of Spring,” are considered the high point of his career. “Echoes” is a remarkably light recording, so pleasant that it is easy – at least for a while – to overlook just how talented and sophisticated a pianist Smith was. With a steady, meandering bass line from his left hand, his right hand produces a lovely, tinkling melody on the high notes. About a minute and a half into the song, his right hand gets more adventurous and opens up new perspectives on that melody. Smith even throws in occasional booming, discordant notes that are completely unexpected and yet do nothing to diminish the song’s loveliness.

~ You may also like: Willie “The Lion” Smith, “Finger Buster” (Commodore 521, 1939)

Art Tatum
“Tea for Two” (Decca 2456, 1939)

“Tea for Two” is Art Tatum’s most enduring recording, a work that manages to dazzle with its display of technical prowess while simultaneously retaining the charm of a lovely ballad. Like Coleman Hawkins’ “Body and Soul,” this record finds the lead improvising greatly, but where Hawkins created an entirely new world out of an old song, Tatum starts with the original melody, drives it into new possibilities with flashes of virtuosity, and then brings it ever so gently back to familiar territory again. In doing so, he creates a perfect framework for his unique talents, an arena where he can show off his abilities – things other pianists just can’t do – while staying grounded and accessible to an audience looking for a more gut-level connection. For one example, listen to the final half-minute, where a fast, free-form improvisation slows into a melodic and sentimental conclusion, while never quite losing its sense of spontaneity and wonder – ultimately resembling, but not quite matching, the original melody.

~ You may also like: Art Tatum, “Willow Weep for Me” (live: April 2, 1949; Gene Norma Presents an Art Tatum Concert, Columbia GL 101, 1952)

Sidney Bechet Quintet
“Summertime” (Blue Note 6, 1939)

“Summertime,” with music by George Gershwin and lyrics by DuBose Heyward and Ira Gershwin, is one of American music’s most enduring jazz and pop standards, and there are many top-notch renditions of it to chose from. One of the best is undeniably this instrumental Sidney Bechet recording from 1939. Bechet seizes upon the song’s underlying bittersweet tone and brings it to the surface with a soprano sax solo of exquisite depth. He shows great restraint, using the entire length of a 12" single to explore the song in greater detail while slowly building tension throughout. Even when that tension finally spills over into a wailing release, Bechet plays it close to the chest, muffling the volume and turning the emotion back in on itself.

The simple, spare accompaniment makes a wonderful companion to Bechet’s playing. Big Sid Catlett’s drums and John Williams’ bass measure a steady, plodding beat, with the drums becoming noticeably more forceful at times in parallel with Bechet’s playing. Meanwhile, Teddy Bunn’s guitar quietly picks out a bluesy countermelody that further fuels the song’s emotional fire. In all, it is a deeply intimate and beautiful performance and one of the best recordings of Bechet’s distinguished career.

~ You may also like: Tommy Ladnier and His Orchestra featuring Sidney Bechet, “Really the Blues” (Bluebird 10089, 1938)

Billie Holiday
“Strange Fruit” (Commodore 526, 1939)

I honestly don’t know how Holiday sang this song without getting choked up in the process. Such is the power of her performance that I find myself knotted up with anger and sadness every time I listen to it. The song’s subject matter is the lynching of African Americans throughout the segregated South: “Southern trees bear a strange fruit / Blood on the leaves and blood at the root / Black bodies swaying in the Southern breeze / Strange fruit hanging from the poplar trees.” The seemingly naïve lyrics paint an absolutely horrifying picture, and Holiday’s matter-of-fact delivery serves to underscore the heartbreaking sarcasm. Her voice only betrays emotion at the very end, as it rises dramatically to paint the final image of this “strange and bitter crop.”

Although Holiday’s voice is lovely as ever, that loveliness stands in stark contrast to the evil she sings about, and the impact of this reveals the underlying frustration and anger of the entire African American community. Holiday took a lot of criticism for performing such a controversial song, but a more powerful statement against this injustice was never made.

~ You may also like: Billie Holiday, “Gloomy Sunday” (Okeh 6451, 1941)

After a Long Break... (1931-1938)

2011-05-29T06:00:00.007-04:00

Hello, everyone. I apologize for the long time with no posts. I have been writing a lot, but mostly for other projects. However, I have slowly been collecting reviews of some great music for you. To begin with, here are a few songs I added to previous entries:

Thank you to fixbutte for introducing me to these recordings!

I have a bunch of new 1939 reviews that I've handwritten, and I will type those up and post them in the coming weeks. And then on to the 1940s...

Glenn Miller (1939)

2010-11-28T06:00:00.022-05:00

In 1939, trombonist and bandleader Glenn Miller was struggling to gain recognition and keep his second orchestra together when he landed a regular spot on CBS radio. The national exposure proved invaluable and by the end of the year, Miller’s inviting brand of swing music had made his band one of the most popular in the U.S. While many jazz purists derided the band (and many still do) for its highly polished, highly rehearsed sound, the public absolutely ate it up. Over the next few years, Miller would absolutely dominate the pop charts, earning number-one hit after number-one hit. And while there is no denying that he catered to mainstream tastes, it is hard to argue that his success wasn’t deserved. He led a talented group that created some of the most remarkable records of the era, and he was as innovative in his own way as any other big band leader. As proof, here are some of the earliest and best records from his remarkable career.

Glenn Miller and His Orchestra

“Little Brown Jug” (Bluebird B-10286,1939)

Of all of Miller’s well-known hits, “Little Brown Jug” may be the one that least follows the Miller formula, sounding very much like something we would expect from Bennie Goodman or Tommy Dorsey. But that does not make it any less brilliant. Miller’s trademark precision is here in spades as the band moves like a well-oiled machine to play the main theme and back up the soloists. As a case in point, note the dramatic build-up between the first and second solos: a riff repeated three times by the ensemble, followed by a held-note crescendo by the trumpets, and then even greater urgency as the trombones join in. The solos sound very melodic and rehearsed, but they are also full of energy and backed by a driving drum beat, and the song never sinks into predictability even as it remains danceable to the end.

~ You may also like: Glenn Miller and His Orchestra, “Anvil Chorus” (Bluebird B-10982, 1941)

Glenn Miller and His Orchestra
“In the Mood” (Bluebird B-10416,1939)

“In the Mood” is Miller’s most enduring hit, a fast-paced number that is both lullaby soft and irresistibly energetic. After a brief but noteworthy intro, the full orchestra jumps in and lays down one of the most memorable melodies in big band history. We are then treated to some soloing that expounds upon the theme in exciting ways without departing from it. But the most exciting part comes when the full orchestra returns. Once again, they play the main melody, but this time they play it softer and softer, with drawn-out pauses between each iterance. Finally, after one such pause, they return to full volume and build up to a glorious finale.

~ You may also like: Glenn Miller and His Orchestra featuring Ray Eberle, “Stairway to the Stars” (Bluebird B-10276, 1939)

Glenn Miller and His Orchestra
“Moonlight Serenade” (Bluebird B-10214,1939)

“Moonlight Serenade” was Miller’s breakthrough hit, and little wonder as the song’s gentle melody is so sentimentally sweet that it provides a perfect vessel for whatever strong emotion the listener may be feeling. As the Great Depression wore on and the world headed towards war, “Moonlight Serenade” struck a chord with listeners. Indeed, it is a lovely song and even today is arresting in its simple beauty. The record almost exclusively features ensemble playing, but the highlight is a wonderful, mellow clarinet solo about two-thirds of the way in. With tenor sax playing a subtle, low countermelody in the background, the clarinet soars into the high notes and strips the song to its barest emotion.

~ You may also like the other side of the original single: Glenn Miller and His Orchestra, “Sunrise Serenade” (Bluebird B-10214, 1939)

Inspired Swing (1939)

2010-11-21T06:00:00.001-05:00

The following selections show swing music blossoming in terms of both style and substance. These records are among the best of their era for balancing mass commercial appeal and artistic integrity.

In other words, they are really, really good.

Erskine Hawkins and His Orchestra
“Tuxedo Junction” (Bluebird B-10409, 1939)

Glenn Miller had a bigger hit with it in 1940 (Bluebird B-10612), but co-author Erskine Hawkins’ original is the definitive recording of this classic. The song gets its title from the nickname of a jazz club near the band’s hometown of Birmingham, Alabama, but this record transcends any tangible location to create a magical place all its own.

Although Hawkins was a gifted trumpeter (often called “the 20th Century Gabriel”), it was fellow trumpeter Wilbur “Dud” Bascomb that took the memorable solo on this record. An audible wave from Bascomb introduces you to “Tuxedo Junction,” and it’s such a welcoming place, you’ll want to stay awhile. After a relaxed introduction to the band and a hearty hello from Julian Dash on tenor sax, Bascomb returns to show you around. His trumpet solo is both rousing and endearing, filled with genuine warmth and joy. As it ends, one cannot help but feel that the song has passed its high point, and yet Haywood Henry’s clarinet soon proves that notion wrong, enthusiastically showing the listener another side of “Tuxedo Junction” – one that is every bit as captivating. Bascomb returns at the end to wind things down and say goodbye. Trust me, you will want to visit again.

~ You may also like another mellow hit from Hawkins and company, featuring some wonderful piano playing by Avery Parish: Erskine Hawkins and His Orchestra, “After Hours” (Bluebird B-10879, 1940)

Charlie Barnet and His Orchestra
“Cherokee” (Bluebird B-10373, 1939)

Don’t let the overall smoothness of Charlie Barnet’s “Cherokee” fool you: this band is dangerous. They are razor sharp and full of attitude, and while you may feel enchanted by the irresistible melody, a closer listen reveals that they never stop hitting you. Listen to the way the saxophones strike with short, staccato bursts and the horns repeatedly give a wah-wah whine during the opening solo. The same brash assertiveness continues throughout, with every smooth main melody backed up with saucy attitude from elsewhere in the band. Among the smoother parts, Barnet himself is particularly alluring on tenor sax, with a polished playfulness that touches the line of squeaking dissonance without ever crossing it. This record is a true classic of the genre and an indispensible part of any serious swing music fan’s collection.

~ You may also like: Charlie Barnet and His Orchestra, “Skyliner” (Decca 18659, 1945)

Woody Herman and His Orchestra
“(At the) Woodchopper’s Ball” (Decca 2440, 1939)

“Woodchopper’s Ball” was Woody Herman’s triumph, a flawlessly executed record that sizzles excitingly throughout while going down soothingly smooth. The uptempo blues is almost a head arrangement built around a simple riff, but a high degree of coordination between the instruments yields an extra-polished finish. The solos are gems and each is given a good deal of time to develop: clarinet, trombone, tenor sax, trumpet, and finally a duet between piano and bass. The record built up a following slowly, but eventually became Herman’s biggest hit and – deservedly – vaulted him into superstar status.

~ You may also like: Chick Webb and His Orchestra, “Let’s Get Together” (Columbia 2883-D, 1934)

Benny Goodman and His Orchestra featuring Martha Tilton
“And the Angels Sing” (Victor 26170, 1939)

“And the Angels Sing” was the biggest hit of Martha Tilton’s career and another huge hit for Goodman. Tilton’s plush voice is heavenly, to be sure, and benefits from terrific lyrics by Johnny Mercer: “You smile and the angels sing / And though it’s just a gentle murmur at the start / We kiss and the angels sing / And leave their music ringing in my heart.” If you listen closely as she sings, “You smile,” you can actually hear her smile in a wonderful bit of showmanship. But Tilton’s singing is only half the story. The orchestra itself provides tight accompaniment throughout the first half, and once the vocals end, Ziggy Elman (who wrote the music) bursts free with a tremendous trumpet solo. It begins with a fast, Yiddish-inspired dance interlude over a driving march beat, and then slows suddenly to end as a soaring, inspiring jazz solo as the full orchestra sweeps back in behind him. As heavenly as Tilton was, it is Elman’s trumpet at the end that truly represents the angels singing.

~ You may also like: Benny Goodman and His Orchestra featuring Helen Ward, “Goody Goody” (Victor 25245, 1936)

More Bonus Material (1931-1939)

2010-11-14T06:00:00.047-05:00

As promised, I continued working my way through this blog to add suggestions for further listening to all of the entries. I previously completed the entries from 1890-1930, and I have now completed all of them through my last 1939 entry. Every recording I have written about now has an italicized entry at the end that says "You might also like..."

For example, you'll still find an entry for "Song of India" by Tommy Dorsey (Victor 25523, 1937) just as before, with a brief description of the reasons why it is a milestone recording (Bunny Berigan's trumpet solo, for starters). In addition, at the end of that description, you'll now find this recommendation:

~ You may also like yet some more of Berigan’s best: Frankie Trumbauer and His Orchestra, “Troubled” (Victor 24834, 1935)

There is no further detail given about the new recording; it's just a teaser to encourage you to further explore some great music. And while these new recommendations didn't make my final cut for full reviews, that's only because I had to draw the line somewhere. They are definitely worthwhile!

So if you've read those earlier entries already, you might want to go back and check them out again. Meanwhile, I will continue adding new entries and suggested further listening as time permits. I have a few more recordings from 1939 to cover, and then on to the 1940s!

Lester Leaps In (1939)

2010-10-11T06:00:00.004-04:00

Lester Young had an incredibly productive year with Basie’s band in 1939, including some of his most classic performances on tenor sax. The following selections show him at his peak of creativity, and playing with band mates like Basie who perfectly complemented his easy going style.

Count Basie and His Orchestra
“Taxi War Dance” (Vocalion 4748, 1939)

In “Taxi War Dance,” Basie’s orchestra strips the big band swing format down to a bare minimum of complexity, and then builds it back into something transcendent by sole virtue of their talent – especially that of the amazing Lester Young. At its core, the song is nothing but a “head arrangement” – a brief riff repeated against a driving rhythm. What transforms this simple structure into pure magic are the memorable solos that fill the remaining spaces. The record begins with Basie introducing the fast pace on piano and then some taut riffing by the full orchestra, but just seconds into it everything but the rhythm section fades away and Young steps in with a breezy tenor sax solo that completely changes the song’s feel. The band riffs again and Dickie Wells picks up where Young left off with a remarkably agile display on trombone. Then we are treated to a series of brief riffs followed by short, highly inventive improvisations that each defy expectations and create something fresh and new. In the hands of lesser musicians, an arrangement like “Taxi War Dance” could be flat and repetitive, but as played on this record, it is marvelous.

~ You may also like: Count Basie and His Orchestra, “9:20 Special” (Okeh 6244, 1941)

Count Basie’s Kansas City Seven
“Lester Leaps In” (Vocalion 5118, 1939)

“Lester Leaps In” was written by Lester Young based on George and Ira Gershwin’s “I Got Rhythm.” Like the band’s other head arrangements, it features improvised solos built around a central riff, but where we might expect more of the band’s usual free-for-all virtuosity, this record is a study in minimalism. There are only two soloists – Basie on piano and Young on tenor sax – and they take turns seeing who can play the most with the least. Both show considerable flash at times, but they are even more brilliant in their use of space.

Young is clearly the main focus. His playing is fluid yet very laid-back, and he frequently plays around with the rhythm, delaying an expected note by a fraction, or pauses all together, trailing off where one might expect more fireworks. Basie’s approach, as might be expected, is even sparer, sometimes playing only a couple of quiet notes at a time. Despite the sparseness of his playing, or perhaps because of it, the record is bursting with energy from start to finish. The rhythm section is lively and keeps the beat going even when the melody disappears. And the occasional heat generated by the band (led by Buck Clayton’s prominent trumpet) and soloists leave you eagerly anticipating more.

~ You may also like: Count Basie and His Orchestra, “Tickle Toe” (Columbia 35521, 1940)

Count Basie and His Orchestra
“Jive at Five” (Decca 2922, 1939)

This classic is one of Basie’s best and the ultimate chill-out swing record, a relaxed jam built around a very simple riff. The band plays very tight, very spare snippets: at one point, the riff consists of just two tense notes, just enough to keep it going during the solos. Dickie Wells is prominent with a repeated casual growl on trombone, and the rhythm section keeps things bouncing steadily, especially Jo Jones’ light but firm touch on drums. Meanwhile, the soloists take turns playing smooth, comfortable choruses, and all are magic: Lester Young especially shines with an ethereal performance on tenor sax. He is followed by Harry Eddison on trumpet, Basie on piano, Jack Washington on baritone sax and Dickie Wells on trombone. The records fades sleepily to a close guided by Wells’ trombone.

~ You may also like the 1938 small group recordings of Basie’s sidemen (recording without the Count for contractual reasons), including this number featuring Lester Young on both tenor sax and clarinet, as well as Eddie Durham with a groundbreaking performance on electric guitar: Kansas City Six, “Way Down Yonder in New Orleans” (Commodore 512, 1938)

Hot Ditches Sweet and Has a Swinging Night Out with the Blues (1938-1939)

2010-10-03T06:00:00.033-04:00

As pleasant and popular as “sweet” music could be, sometimes jazz and boogie woogie artists simply had to let loose and show what they were capable of. And thank God for that.

Count Basie and His Orchestra
“Jumping at the Woodside” (Decca 2212, 1938)

Set to an incredibly fast, eight-to-the-bar beat, “Jumping at the Woodside” is pure Kansas City energy through and through. It is also riotously fun, a bluesy romp that must have sent dancers into a frenzy. The solos come fast and furious and each one is a keeper. A stomping opener from Basie on piano is followed by a wailing flurry from Earl Warren on alto sax and then back to Basie again for some of his trademark, spare but genius piano playing. We then get an assertive blast and wonderful solo from Buck Clayton’s muted trumpet and a honking but perfectly fluid tenor sax solo from Lester Young that sounds like rock and roll come two decades early. Finally, a fiery, take-no-prisoners turn on clarinet from Herschel Evans ends the record in amazing fashion.

~ You may also like: Count Basie and His Orchestra featuring Jimmy Rushing, “Swingin’ the Blues” (Decca 1880, 1938)

Count Basie and His Orchestra featuring Jimmy Rushing
“Sent for You Yesterday (And Here You Come Today)” (Decca 1880, 1938)

Songs with vocals tend to be primarily a showcase for the singer, but someone forgot to tell that the Basie band on this record. It’s not that Jimmy Rushing doesn’t give a strong performance: “Sent for You Yesterday” is a great example of his potent vocal presence. But Rushing is limited to a single verse, and the band impatiently taps its toe the entire time he’s singing, stirring noticeably after every line. Before Rushing even enters, the band has firmly entrenched itself in hot blues with some call-and-response playing featuring Earl Warren’s floating alto sax, Basie’s tinkling piano and some growling, muted trombones. And Herschel Evans has already played an absolutely gorgeous, full-bodied chorus on tenor sax. As soon as Rushing is finished, the instruments immediately kick up the energy again and let out all the stops, first with a rousing call to action from Harry “Sweets” Edison on trumpet and then wailing in unison while drummer Jo Jones bangs away furiously in response.

~ You may also like: Count Basie and His Orchestra featuring Jimmy Rushing, “Goin’ to Chicago Blues” (Okeh 6244, 1941)

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1939 Headlines … Great Depression continues … World War II begins with German attack on Poland; U.K., France, others declare war on Germany; U.S. neutral … The Wizard of Oz and Gone with the Wind films premier
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Big Joe Turner and Pete Johnson
“Roll ‘Em Pete” (Vocalion 4607, 1939)

Pete Johnson helped kick start the national boogie woogie craze in a series of concerts with fellow pianists Meade “Lux” Lewis and Albert Ammons beginning in 1938. “Roll ‘Em Pete” is a good example of his playing and also features commanding vocals from Joe Turner, who would go on to become one of the most popular blues “shouters” of the post-war “jump blues” scene. Johnson’s playing is solid throughout and his solo in the middle is very entertaining. While he is not as flashy as Lewis or Ammons, he plays with a real feel for the blues and provides perfect accompaniment for Turner’s boisterous but highly disciplined voice. Turner is really amazing, singing each line at the top of his lungs and yet with amazing clarity and control: “Well, you so beautiful, but you gotta die someday / All I want is lovin’, babe, give before you pass away!” Together, the two men create one of the not-to-be-missed blues performances of the 1930s.

~ You may also like: Albert Ammons and His Rhythm Kings, “Boogie Woogie Stomp” (Decca 749, 1936)

The Marriage of Hot and Sweet (1938)

2010-09-26T06:00:00.048-04:00

From the very beginning, jazz fans described the music as being either “hot” (with lots of improvisation and variation) or “sweet” (with highly arranged structure and a focus on the main melody). Of course, these terms are not mutually exclusive; both can be found in the same recording, and the rise of big band swing made it increasingly possible to blend the two approaches, taking a tight, basically “sweet” arrangement and adding fiery solos or other exciting “hot” touches. As the following selections show, some bands did this very, very well.

Benny Goodman and His Orchestra
“Don’t Be That Way” (Victor 25792, 1938)

Forget Benny Goodman’s legendary concert at Carnegie Hall: his greatest legacy from 1938 is this flawless recording. The song had been written by Chick Webb’s alto sax player Edgar Sampson, and Webb had a hit with it in 1935 (Decca 483). That version is phenomenal, but Goodman’s is immortal. Where Webb and company played the song fast and razor-sharp, Goodman’s band set a somewhat slower pace that allowed them to polish it into a rounder, fuller sound. The entire band is in top form, and every instrument sounds simultaneously spicy and sweet. Goodman himself leads the way with one of his best performances on clarinet, three separate solos that lure listeners in with soft tones then hook them with pointed playing that is no less rich. Solos by Harry James on trumpet and Vernon Brown on trombone are also quite good, as is the playing of Jess Stacy on piano and Gene Krupa on drums. This record is more than just a series of individual performances, though, as the ensemble playing is also extremely tight and enjoyable. Just listen to the opening section with the woodwinds playing the same melody octaves apart while the brass instruments add short, staccato accents. Or the way the entire band repeats the theme over and over again at the end, softer and softer until Krupa brings the volume back up with a machine-gun burst of drumming. Classic.

~ You may also like: Benny Goodman and His Orchestra featuring Peggy Lee, “Let’s Do It (Let’s Fall in Love)” (Okeh 6474, 1941)

Artie Shaw and His Orchestra
“Begin the Beguine” (Bluebird B-7746, 1938)

The great Artie Shaw was perhaps the only clarinetist of the big band era that could come close to Benny Goodman’s pure, sweet tone. Shaw’s band certainly challenged Goodman’s in popularity as well, and while they tended to have a very polished, sweeter style, they were also very talented and not afraid to experiment. Their rendition of Cole Porter’s “Begin the Beguine” was their first big hit, and it remains one of the most recognizable and delightful gems from the period. (For the record, a “beguine” is a kind of Caribbean dance and is pronounced the same as “begin.”) It is highly arranged, and the solos by Shaw and saxophonist Tony Pastor do little more than express the main melody, but there are just enough “hot” elements to keep it swinging. Most of that is thanks to Shaw himself who adds wonderful, improvised touches in all the right places, including a sliding crescendo that ends the song on a high note.

~ You may also like: Artie Shaw and His Gramercy Five, “Summit Ridge Drive” (Victor 26763, 1940)

Artie Shaw and His Orchestra featuring Billie Holiday
“Any Old Time” (Bluebird B-7759, 1938)

In 1938, Billie Holiday joined Artie Shaw, becoming one of the first African American singers to be featured in a white band. It was a match made in heaven, but unfortunately the extreme racism she faced while touring the South soon made her leave the group. “Any Old Time” was the only recording she made with Shaw, giving us only a hint of what could have been. The band plays beautifully, and Tony Pastor’s solo on tenor sax, while not adventurous, is notable for its marvelously rich tone. But, of course, it is Holiday who steals the show with a performance that rides effortlessly on the gorgeous melody, and yet reaches beyond it thanks to her multidimensional voice. Given Holiday’s incredible versatility, it is revelatory to hear her sing something so straightforward and so joyously pure.

~ You may also like: Teddy Wilson and His Orchestra featuring Billie Holiday, “These Foolish Things” (Brunswick 7699, 1936)

Red Norvo and His Orchestra featuring Mildred Bailey

“Please Be Kind” (Brunswick 8088, 1938)

Vibraphonist Red Norvo led a compotent, popular big band and had several hit records. He is most known for his excellent work with his wife, singer Mildred Bailey, which earned the couple the nickname “Mr. and Mrs. Jazz.” Bailey was a large woman, but she had a voice that floated as if it had angel wings. She was one of the most popular singers of her day, and her voice remains one of the loveliest in pop music history.

“Please be Kind” is a great example. It is a light record, with superbly sweet playing that keeps the song enjoyable without calling too much attention to itself. That leaves more of the spotlight for Bailey, who doesn’t disappoint. With a voice so pure that it embodies innocence, she sings: “This is my first affair / So please be kind / Handle my heart with care / Oh, please be kind!” The record was a major hit, and while it may not be the most technically impressive thing Bailey ever sang, it is so lovely that you can’t help being dazzled by it.

~ You may also like: Mildred Bailey and Her Orchestra, “Rockin’ Chair” (Vocalion 3553, 1937)

Larry Clinton and His Orchestra featuring Bea Wain
“My Reverie” (Victor 26006, 1938)

Larry Clinton enjoyed much success on the charts, both as a bandleader and as an arranger for others, but his greatest accomplishments came during the two-year tenure of vocalist Bea Wain. “My Reverie” was Clinton’s first #1 under his own name and beautifully displays what has made Wain a favorite among big band-era singers. The first half of the song is a lovely instrumental, a pop adaptation of the classical piano piece “Rêvierie” by Claude Debussy. It is pleasant, pure pop, far removed from “hot” jazz.

Wain’s voice, however, is a multidimensional wonder that works on a purely pop level while providing the kind of expressive depth and fluid sense of swing that characterized the best jazz singers. From the moment she begins to sing, everything else is all but irrelevant and her enchanting voice becomes the song. Listen to the ground she covers in just one line: “Without you, life will never begin to be.” Such power in “without” and “begin,” yet such restraint in “you” and “be.” She is behind the beat in the beginning and yet races ahead of it in the end, only to slow down and find her place again. And throughout it all, the timbre of her voice shimmers and evolves, moving from weighty to light-as-a-feather.

Unlike Billie holiday or Frank Sinatra, Wain’s career did not extend beyond World War II into the era when singers became more well-known than band leaders, so she is not as well known today. But for those who appreciate pure, perfect singing, she is one to look for.

~ You may also like: Larry Clinton and His Orchestra featuring Bea Wain, “Heart and Soul” (Victor 26046, 1938)

Count Basie and His Orchestra
“Blue and Sentimental” (Decca 1965, 1938)

This is a great example of how a record can sound soft and “sweet” and yet still feel unpredictably “hot” and exciting. While Lester Young is the better known of the band’s two star tenor sax players, this record is a showcase for Herschel Evans. Evans sets the tone early playing a slow, bluesy solo that fits the song’s title to a T. Other band members then contribute their own bluesy solos: Basie on piano, Ed Lewis on muted trumpet and Lester Young playing clarinet. All of the solos are highly enjoyable, and when the full band enters during the end of Young’s clarinet solo, it adds an almost overwhelming sense of depth and power. Evans then returns on sax while the band continues to play, and as they fade back into the background, Evans’ tender touch brings the record to a beautiful close. Unfortunately, Evans’ greatest moment would be one of his last, as he would die from a heart problem early the next year, just one month shy of his 30th birthday.

~ You may also like: Count Basie and His Orchestra featuring Helen Humes, “If I Could Be with You One Hour Tonight” (Vocalion 4748, 1939)

Other Swing (1938)

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While the dance-floor sound of big bands like those of Benny Goodman and Chick Webb was rapidly becoming the standard for swing music, there was still a great deal of flexibility in the form. The following selections show some of the interesting variety that one could find in jazz in 1938, featuring everything from Gypsy strings to 1920s-style small group jazz.

Le Quintette du Hot Club de France
“Minor Swing” (Swing 23, 1938)

Here is another amazing record from Europe’s top jazz band, featuring the incomparable Django Reinhardt on guitar and Stéphane Grappelli on violin. Songs played in a minor key tend to generate dramatic tension – an increased sense of seriousness or somberness. This one, played in the A-minor harmonic key, is no different, but rather than creating an uneasy mood, the band channels that tension into a feeling of exotic uncertainty. The talented musicians keep things upbeat and swinging even while they leave the listener wondering what’s next. From the opening bars, the record plays with our expectations. Grappelli plays a brief intro that is followed by a single note from the bass that seems to be going somewhere, but instead simply fades to nothing. Where we would expect the full band to enter, we instead find ourselves back at the beginning. Grappelli repeats his intro and then we are finally off and running.

Reinhardt takes the first solo, a dexterous, unpredictable turn that starts with some melodic, single-string slide playing and ends abruptly on a discordant note. At that point, Grappelli returns for his own solo (with Reinhardt continuing to add little touches in the background). Where Reinhardt's Gypsy-style guitar had been mysterious and withdrawn, Grappelli soars with forceful purpose. Someone shouts, “Come on!” in the middle, and Grappelli responds by becoming even more animated. The record ends with a little coda that features some great interaction between Grappelli and bassist Louis Vola, and then someone cries what we’ve all been thinking: “Oh yeah!”

~ You may also like one of the fastest things Reinhardt ever recorded: Le Quintette du Hot Club de France, “Limehouse Blues” (HMV K-7706, 1936)

Louis Armstrong and His Orchestra
“When the Saints Go Marching In” (Decca 2230, 1938)

In the tradition of New Orleans funeral processions, Armstrong recorded this gospel song set to jazz. It proved immensely popular and has been covered so often that today it is the first song that comes to most listeners’ minds when they think of New Orleans jazz. Like much of Louis Armstrong’s 1930s output, “When the Saints Go Marching In” is more a showcase for his butter-on-burnt-toast vocals that for his trumpet playing, but he does end the song with a rousing solo that reminds us of his talent on that instrument. The other solos are taken by J.C. Higginbotham on trombone (twice) and Charlie Holmes on alto sax, and they have a distinctly Dixieland feel, as opposed to the swinging big band tone of the rest of the record. The lyrics are very simple, but Armstrong’s distinct voice is enjoyable to listen to, as are his spoken asides (“Blow, brother Holmes!”) and the backup singers’ responses (“Marching in!”). This is joyous music, plain and simple. It may not be deep, but it is perfect for singing along.

~ You may also like: Louis Armstrong and His Orchestra, “I Double Dare You” (Decca 1636, 1938)

Eddie Condon and His Windy City Seven
“Ja-Da” (Commodore 500, 1938)

Eddie Condon was a seminal figure in the Chicago jazz scene in the 1920s, playing with the likes of Bix Beiderbecke, Gene Krupa, Jack Teagarden and Frank Teschemacher. He was a solid but not remarkable banjoist and guitarist, but his true gift was organizing top notch players into exceptional ensembles. After moving to New York in 1928, Condon broke down barriers by organizing interracial recording sessions with some of the top African-American artists of the day, including Henry “Red” Allen, Louis Armstrong and Fats Waller. In the late ‘30s he assembled just such an interracial band that included some of New York’s finest musicians, and they would produce the best work of Condon’s career, including the lovely “Ja-Da.”

Although the swing era was already in full swing, Condon didn’t forget the older style of jazz he had played in the ‘20s in Chicago, and blended elements of it into swing to create his own unique sound. “Ja-Da” begins with some slow, old-style polyphony, with Bobby Hackett’s cornet carrying the lazy main melody while George Brunies and Pee Wee Russell add countermelodies on trombone and clarinet, respectively. Jess Stacy’s piano punctuates this and the rest of the song with spare, percussive notes that create a delicious contrast to the otherwise languid pace. After the opening section, Bud Freeman takes a long, mellow solo on tenor sax then Hackett returns to do the same on cornet. Mid-way through his solo, the accompaniment drops away and Hackett’s playing becomes much more forceful and staccato for a few bars before sliding back into mellow, dreamy territory. A brief solo by Russell on clarinet and a moment of soaring polyphony by the entire band bring the song to a close. This was the closest ting to Louis Armstrong’s groundbreaking Hot Five and Hot Seven sessions being made in 1938.

~ You may also like an earlier side featuring Condon on banjo and vocals, Frank Teschemacher on clarinet and a young Gene Krupa on drums: Eddie Condon Quartet, “(Back Home Again In) Indiana” (Parlophone R-2932, 1928)

Letting It All Out (1938)

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The following selections cover a wide variety of styles (jazz, blues, country) and moods (playful, impassioned, sinister, melancholy), but they share an emphasis on spare arrangements with deeply relatable vocals. These records foreshadow the coming shift to the singer-centric recordings that would take over popular music after World War II, and they lay the groundwork for the fundamental changes that would create all new styles like honky tonk and rock and roll.

Slim & Slam
“The Flat Foot Floogee” (Vocalion 4021, 1938)

As this record comes to an end, Bulee “Slim” Gaillard and Leroy “Slam” Stewart can be heard commenting on what they’ve just performed and one of them remarks, “That’s a killer!” A better review could not be found. “The Flat Foot Floogee” (originally titled “The Flat Fleet Floogee”) is a remarkably swinging record, and yet freely breaks from the usual trappings of swing music. The duo’s singing is firmly rooted in the “jive” style exemplified by Cab Calloway, and like Calloway they pepper the record with seemingly nonsensical phrases that actually have meaning to them. (“Floogee” was supposed to stand for “floozy,” and “floy floy” was slang for “venereal disease.”) The song is perfectly enjoyable – maybe even more so – without knowing this, however, and indeed much of the singing really is nonsensical scatting.

Unlike Calloway, Gaillard and Stewart’s style is much more laid back in its delivery. Adding to the relaxed feel is the small-group accompaniment – guitar, bass, piano and drums – which is mostly just used to provide a steady rhythm during the first minute of the song. The instruments occasionally pipe up to add emphasis during this part, but most of the work is done by the vocalists, with one of the duo singing and the other either singing along or behaving like an instrument by scatting in the background.

The second part of the song features two outstanding solos. The first is by Stewart, who was a master of the bowed bass. What makes the performance even more remarkable is the way he hums along, voicing the same melody an octave apart from his playing. The second solo is by Gaillard, whose main instrument was the guitar, but played many instruments. Here he plays the vibes, and both vocalists freely comment throughout: “Solid, man!” Both solos retain the laid-back feel of the rest of the song, something that would not be as easy to do in a larger ensemble. While that mellowness and the hipster lyrics make some people dismiss Slim and Slam’s work as novelty or fluff, to do so is a mistake. This is a unique and well-played record that just happens to be immensely entertaining, and it was an influential step on the road to creating jump blues and eventually R&B and rock and roll.

~ You may also like: The Spirits of Rhythm, “My Old Man” (Brunswick 6728, 1933)

Sonny Boy Williamson
“Whiskey Head Blues” (Bluebird B-7707, 1938)

Part of what I love about Sonny Boy Williamson’s music is the passion of his performances. There is loads of talent there, but his musical ability always takes a backseat to the sheer power of his delivery. “Whiskey Head Blues” is a particularly enjoyable example of this. Guitar and mandolin bounce along sloppily underneath, while Williamson gives a soulful, spellbinding performance. At times, it sounds like he’s not even trying to make a record, he’s just wailing (with his harmonica as well as his voice) and lamenting his lover’s drunken ways: “Well, now every time I see you, you’s at some whiskey joint / Standin’ at the back door, askin’ for another half a pint.” Of course, Williamson’s genius is that he pushes the boundaries just far enough, keeping the music jagged around the edges but never so sharp as to be off-putting. In fact, for blues fans, this is just the opposite: an utterly riveting, essential record.

~ You may also like: Sonny Boy Williamson, “Decoration Blues” (Bluebird B-7665, 1938)

Robert Johnson
“Me and the Devil Blues” (take 2) (Vocalion 04108, 1938)

(Note that there were two takes of this song recorded in 1937, and both were released as Vocalion 04108 in 1938. They are very similar, but the second take is the definitive one.)

This song has the most evocative imagery of any in Johnson’s catalog, packing a punch whether they are taken literally or figuratively. The narrator sings of “walking side by side” with the devil and unrepentantly blames his wicked behavior (“I’m gonna beat my woman until I get satisfied”) on “that old evil spirit.” Johnson’s guitar work and voice are as strong as ever, making the lyrics that much more compelling. At the end, he sings: “You may bury my body down by the highway side / So my old evil spirit can get a Greyhound bus and ride.”

Unfortunately, this would be the last of Johnson’s recordings released in his lifetime. In August of 1938, he would be poisoned, apparently by the jealous husband of a woman he flirted with, and would die a few days later at the age of only 27.

~ You may also like: Robert Johnson, “I’m a Steady Rollin’ Man” (Vocalion 03723, 1937)

Cliff Bruner’s Texas Wanderers
“It Makes No Difference Now” (Decca 5604, 1938)

Cliff Bruner was a fiddle player in Milton Brown’s pioneering western swing band until Brown’s untimely death in 1936. Afterwards, Bruner formed his own group, the Texas Wanderers, and experienced a good deal of success on his own. “It Makes No Difference Now” (written by Floyd Tillman) was his biggest hit, and listening to it you will understand why. While it is clearly rooted in western swing, this record reflects a sparer, more intimate style that would directly influence the “honky tonk” music that would come to dominate country music. This is not lively music to dance to, but something to feel in your gut. To use a country music cliché, it was music to cry in your beer to.

The background instrumentation features a crazy swirl of steel guitar (by Bob Dunn) and piano (by Aubrey “Moon” Mullican), but the emphasis is placed firmly on Dickie McBride’s melancholy, baritone vocals and Leo Raley’s striking electric mandolin. Both of these are slow and deliberate, making the listener pay attention to the narrator’s tale of a recently ended love affair: “Now that we have really parted, I can’t believe we’re through / I don’t blame myself, and I’m sure I can’t blame you.” It is a simple, direct and flawlessly executed performance, and one that every honky-tonk fan should know.

~ You may also like one of pianist Moon Mullican’s turn on vocals: Cliff Bruner’s Texas Wanderers, “Truck Driver’s Blues” (Decca 5725, 1939)

Epic Swing (1937-1938)

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Benny Goodman’s monumental recording of “Sing, Sing, Sing” was a watershed moment in American popular music, one that redefined the scope of jazz and further cemented swing as the sound of the nation. But Goodman weas not alone, as artists like Chick Webb and Raymond Scott were also pushing boundaries and making big band music that was every bit as ground breaking and compelling.

The Raymond Scott Quintette
“Twilight in Turkey” (Master MA 108, 1937)

Raymond Scott’s off-beat recordings are familiar to most people from the soundtracks of many classic 1940s Looney Tunes cartoons, where their frenetic energy and unexpected sounds fit in perfectly with the on-screen zaniness. His records were not originally made for that medium, however, and they are just as enjoyable on their own. “Twilight in Turkey,” for example, is a kinetic masterpiece with an uptempo beat that is carried by a variety of different percussion instruments, including at one point some finger cymbals. Meanwhile, the orchestra plays just as fast, their playing punctuated by frequent whining growls from a muted trumpet and several bizarre interludes – everything from an exotic-sounding Oriental dance to a dizzy saxophone solo to a confused, discordant clarinet. Somehow it all works and the end result stands as some of the most inventive jazz of its time.

~ You may also like: The Raymond Scott Quintette, “Powerhouse” (Master MA 111, 1937)

Jimmie Lunceford and His Orchestra
“For Dancers Only” (Decca 1340, 1937)

At his best, such as on “For Dancers Only,” Jimmie Lunceford created swinging records that rival the best work of better-remembered bandleaders like Goodman, Ellington and Basie. The genius of Lunceford’s band was the way it moved seamlessly as if a single entity, while still sounding loose and fresh. Except for two noteworthy solos, the instruments here stick close to the main melodic theme, but they make the most of that framework with colorful tone and a phenomenal arrangement by Sy Oliver. The two solos are highly creative and memorable: a spare turn on tenor sax by Joe Thomas that ends with “laughing” tremolo and a high, rallying cry of a trumpet solo by Tommy Stevenson that must have driven dancers crazy with excitement. This record should be on any swing music fan’s short list.

~ You may also like: Jimmie Lunceford and His Orchestra, “Lunceford Special” (Columbia 38338, 1939)

Benny Goodman and His Orchestra
“Sing, Sing, Sing (With a Swing)” (Victor 36205, 1937)

While limited to just over three minutes per side on a standard, 10-inch 78 RPM record, many jazz bands would stretch songs out much longer in live performances. In 1937, Goodman and his band recreated this in the studio, creating an epic eight-and-a-half minute recording that filled both sides of a 12-inch record (the split coming in the middle of an extended drum solo), a format usually reserved for classical music. That recording of Louis Prima’s “Sing, Sing, Sing” was a game-changer and has continued to be one of the most recognized jazz records in history.

Right from the start, Gene Krupa’s drums command the listener’s attention with a propulsive intro. As the rest of the band joins in, it turns into an enjoyable, fairly straight-forward swing number with excellent arrangement by Jimmy Mundy and a hot clarinet solo by Goodman. But Krupa’s drums never go away; underneath the melody, he’s still banging out that rhythm like a man possessed, and when all of the other instruments suddenly disappear just before the two-minute mark, you realize that this is not going to be your average swing number after all.

Those drums are unstoppable, and every time the orchestra stops, Krupa bangs and bangs until he summons them back, sometimes en masse and sometimes one instrument at a time. Some of the best moments are the free form solos taken by Vido Musso on tenor sax and Goodman on clarinet against just that drum beat. Especially thrilling, though, are the full-orchestra moments in the second half, where the band seems to be rushing recklessly forward, barely able to control itself, pushed forward by that incessant drum beat. When the song finally comes to a sudden end, if you’ve been paying attention, you should find yourself out of breath!

~ You may also like any of the music from Goodman’s legendary 1938 Carnegie Hall concert, which featured an even longer version of “Sing, Sing, Sing” as well as this superb performance: Benny Goodman and His Orchestra, “One O’Clock Jump” (live: January 16, 1938; The Famous 1938 Carnegie Hall Jazz Concert, Columbia SL 160, 1950)

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1938 Headlines … Great Depression continues … Superman debuts in Action Comics #1 … Orson Welles’ “War of the Worlds” radio hoax causes panic through eastern U.S. … Holocaust begins in Germany
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Chick Webb and His Orchestra
“Harlem Congo” (Decca 1681, 1938)

One cannot say enough about how talented Chick Webb’s band was. Before their leader’s untimely death in 1939, no other band in new York could touch them. “Harlem Congo” is a perfect example of their prowess, a performance as fast-paced and lively as the city it represents. The whole band is phenomenal, but special attention goes to Taft Jordan’s show-stopping work on trumpet and Chauncey Haughton’s solo on clarinet, which starts ridiculously high and fast before taking a whirling plummet downward. And lest anyone forget who the best drummer in the business is, Webb settles the argument with a final drum solo that pulls out all the stops. When he is finished, the rest of the band returns for a slow, sweet coda as if taking a well-deserved bow after such a dazzling performance.

~ You may also like another display of Webb’s tremendous talent on drums: Chick Webb and His Orchestra, “Liza (All the Clouds’ll Roll Away)” (Decca 1840, 1938)

Chick Webb and His Orchestra featuring Ella Fitzgerald
“A-Tisket A-Tasket” (Decca 1840, 1938)

As if his band wasn’t already talented enough, Webb had the good fortune to discover a talented teenage singer named Ella Fitzgerald in 1935, and she was soon accompanying the band on performances and in the studio. Although she was an awkward “diamond in the rough” at first, as Webb put it, she would go on to establish herself as one of the all-time premier singers in jazz and popular song.

“A-Tisket A-Tasket” was her break-through hit with the band, with lyrics updated by Fitzgerald from a popular nursery rhyme. Those lyrics would be forgettable in lesser hands, but Fitzgerald’s vocal control and innate sense of swing allows her to transcend their silliness and turn in a thoroughly riveting performance. She delivers the lines sincerely and yet not without a playful wink, especially when she banters back and forth with the band: “(Was it green?) No, no, no, no / (Was it blue?) No, no, no, no / (Was it red?) No, no, no, no / Just a little yellow basket!” The band’s playing is highly arranged to provide the perfect background for the vocalist, but the lack of their usual “hot” soloing does not turn out to be a disadvantage. Try to listen to this song once paying attention only to the instruments, and you will hear a flawless blend of heavenly sweetness and lively energy that is as impressive as anything in their catalog.

“A-Tisket A-Tasket” proved such a monstrous hit that it helped propel the band to a new level of fame. Unfortunately, Webb himself would die the following year at age 34 following a lifetime of health problems, and it would be up to Fitzgerald to carry on as bandleader.

~ You may also like: Chick Webb and His Orchestra featuring Ella Fitzgerald, “Undecided” (Decca 2323, 1939)

Loch Lomond (1937)

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I added the following essential recording to the last entry:

Maxine Sullivan and Her Orchestra, “Loch Lomond” (Vocalion 3654, 1937)

Thanks to heartofglass for pointing out this omission!

Next: I wrap up 1937 and begin 1938...

Swing from the Heart (1937)

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The tight arrangements and hot solos of swing made it popular as dance music, but as the following selections show, in the right hands it could move hearts as compellingly as it could feet.

Billie Holiday and Her Orchestra
“Without Your Love” (Vocalion 3593, 1937)

On this fine outing, Lady Day gives another outstanding performance, convincingly delivering some very clever lyrics: “Without your love, I’m like a plane without wings / A violin with no strings, without your love.” Lester Young does a marvelous job throughout, his feather-light tenor sax shadowing Holiday with playful subtlety at every turn. After the first verse, James Sherman takes a pleasant, relaxed solo on piano, and then Buck Clayton delivers a knock-out punch on trumpet with a forceful solo that soon softens and glides gracefully back into Holiday’s vocals and Young’s obbligato.

~ You may also like: Teddy Wilson and His Orchestra featuring Billie Holiday, “Easy Living” (Brunswick 7911, 1937)

Bunny Berigan and His Orchestra
“I Can’t Get Started” (Victor 36208, 1937)

Bunny Berigan was a sideman on many of the best recordings of the swing era, but he saved his best performance for this record under his own name. In my mind, “I Can’t Get Started” is the most underappreciated recording of the swing era. It’s seen its fair share of accolades from jazz lovers, to be sure, but the song is so good that everyone should know it and be able to identify it as readily as “Take the ‘A’ Train,” for example. It starts out with a trumpet solo of sublime beauty by Berigan that easily rivals the work of his idol, Louis Armstrong. From his rich, shimmering tone to his intuitive phrasing, that brief solo goes straight to the heart and tells as much of a story as the lyrics that follow.

Those lyrics, by Ira Gershwin, are pretty incredible as well: “I’ve flown around the world in a plane / I’ve settled revolutions in Spain / And the North Pole I have charted / Still I can't get started with you.” Berigan does a fine job singing them, but it is his return to trumpet that really seals this song as a classic. The narrator may not have been able to seduce the object of his affection, but I challenge anyone to resist the musical seduction of Berigan’s incredible trumpet.

Unfortunately, Berigan’s genius was too short lived. His incredible talent began suffering due to his battle with alcoholism, and in 1942 at the age of only 33, he lost the battle and died from cirrhosis of the liver.

~ You may also like one of Berigan’s first great performances: Gene Gifford and His Orchestra, “Nothin’ but the Blues” (Victor 25041, 1935)

Barney Bigard and His Jazzopators (Duke Ellington)
“Caravan” (Variety VA 515, 1937)

The melody for “Caravan,” one of Duke Ellington’s most enduring standards, started off as an improvisation by trombonist Juan Tizol. Ellington would have a big hit in 1937 with his second recording of the song, a full-orchestra arrangement (Master 131). To my ears, though, the song’s first recording at a small group session in December 1936, has yet to be surpassed. Recording under the name of Ellington’s clarinetist, Barney Bigard, the band plays with incredible unity, stating and repeating the exotic theme vividly throughout. The solos are crisp and exciting. Tizol goes first, giving a sultry performance that builds anticipation slowly then speeds things up even as it retains a cautious air of danger. Cootie Williams’ “jungle” style muted trumpet then interrupts with a growl, followed by Harry Carney’s fluid baritone sax and Bigard’s wailing clarinet. Bigard’s solo is the song’s emotional high-point, after which it recedes back into the main theme and quickly fades back into the night from which it came.

~ You may also like: Duke Ellington and His Famous Orchestra, “Ko-Ko” (Victor 26577, 1940)

Bing Crosby with Lani McIntyre and His Hawaiians
“Sweet Leilani” (Decca 1175, 1937)

This lovely recording, from the movie Waikiki Wedding, opens with a duet between Hawaiian music legends Lani McIntyre and George Kainapau. McIntyre does not have the strongest voice, but there is a certain charm in his delicate delivery, and Kainapau’s falsetto backing vocals are dreamily delightful. After the first verse, Crosby takes over the lead, and his crooning baritone lifts the song to a new level of enchantment, with McIntyre and Kainapau continuing to provide backing vocals. Compared to the faster-paced swing music being made at the time, it might be easy to label this record as saccharine fluff, a Hollywood ode to the Hawaiian music craze. It should not be so quickly dismissed, though. It provided Crosby with a #1 hit for good reason: it is one of the best, and surprisingly most authentic, Hawaiian-themed hits of the era.

~ You may also like: King Nawahi’s Hawaiians, “Mauna Kea” (Columbia 40017-D¸ 1930)

Maxine Sullivan and Her Orchestra
“Loch Lomond” (Vocalion 3654, 1937)

Maxine Sullivan was a jazz singer with a particularly soft, smooth delivery that was nevertheless as swinging as any of her contemporaries. “Loch Lomond,” a swinging version of a traditional Scottish folk song recorded with Claude Thornhill and his band, was her biggest hit. It was so big, in fact, that it defined her for the rest of her career and she found herself recording mostly folk material from that point on. While that suited her style just fine, her magnificent renditions of jazz standards show that she was capable of much more. Still, “Loch Lomond” remains her finest moment.

Her voice seems to shimmer on this record, carrying the melody with perfect clarity, while adding a delicate extra dimension that makes the song truly swing. Listen to the way she modulates her voice, adding quick vibrato touches and controlling her timbre and timing with masterful precision as she sweetly draws out each word. The band behind her plays in a similar calm, slow-swinging style, but even without the relaxed trumpet and saxophone solos, this record would unmistakably be called jazz based purely on Sullivan’s remarkable vocal performance.

~ You may also like: Maxine Sullivan and Her Orchestra, “Nice Work If You Can Get It” (Vocalion 3848, 1937)

Tommy Dorsey and His Orchestra featuring Jack Leonard
“Marie” (Victor 25523, 1937)

Tommy Dorsey and His Orchestra
“Song of India” (Victor 25523, 1937)

Both sides of this single were breakout hits for Tommy Dorsey and they remain highlights of his catalog. “Marie” begins with a lovely, unassuming intro from Dorsey on trombone, and then heats up with some incredibly fun, layered singing. Jack Leonard provides the smooth lead part and his voice reverberates with a depth that belies his gentle delivery. Meanwhile, the spaces of that depth are filled by the band, half-singing half-shouting a different, more boisterous set of lyrics. While Leonard romantically sings, “Marie, you’ll soon be waking / To find our hearts are aching,” the band adds its own brand of rowdy enthusiasm: “Girl of my dreams! I want you! I need you! Have a little faith in me! Tra la la la la!”

The contrast of the two sets of superimposed vocals, simultaneously proclaiming love for Marie in their own way, is irresistible. As the lyrics end (with the band shouting “Mama!”), Bunny Berigan enters with a sizzling trumpet solo that ups the ante even more. His first note slides into a squeak that is like a jolt of electricity, and yet for all its energy his trumpet never loses its buttery tone. The rest of the solos are solid if not earth-shattering, but by then the record has already cemented its place as one of the finest pop songs of the swing era.

~ You may also like some great trumpet playing from Berigan with another band: Benny Goodman and His Orchestra, “Sometimes I’m Happy” (Victor 25090, 1935, 1935)

The other side of the single is nearly as good. “Song of India” is a jazz adaptation of an aria from the opera Sadko by Nikolai Rimsky-Korsakov. It is a remarkable arrangement that builds slowly around a soft theme first stated by Dorsey on muted trombone. The tension between that quiet theme and the energy of the full orchestra is ever-present, and the latter slowly builds in intensity until the final minute when Berigan bursts through with a trumpet solo that is the record’s finest moment. Although brief, it is another stunning display from Berigan, capturing both the energy and the spirit of the song while simultaneously breaking free from it. The full-band then returns for an amazing four-second transition that takes the song from its energetic peak back to the original, soft theme.

~ You may also like yet some more of Berigan’s best: Frankie Trumbauer and His Orchestra, “Troubled” (Victor 24834, 1935)

Bonus Material (1890-1930)

2010-08-31T06:00:00.005-04:00

I have slowly been making my way back through the early entries of this blog, and I am happy to say that I have now completed adding suggestions for further listening to all of the entries through 1930. That means that for the first 184 recordings I wrote about, I have now added 184 new recommendations of additional recordings that you might like.

For example, you'll still find an entry for "Country Blues" by Dock Boggs (Brunswick 131, 1927) just as before, with a brief description of why it's a milestone recording. In addition, at the end of that description, you'll now find this recommendation:

~ You may also like a similar recording from another eastern Kentucky banjoist: The Appalachian Vagabond (Hayes Shepherd), "The Peddler and His Wife" (Vocalion 5450, 1930)

There is no further detail given about the new recording; it's just a teaser to encourage you to further explore some great music. (If you like Dock Boggs, you should definitely check out Hayes Shepherd!) And while these new recommendations didn't make my final cut for full reviews, that's only because I had to draw the line somewhere. They are definitely worthwhile!

I also fixed some formatting problems on some of those early pages, made minor edits and added a few more photos. So if you've read those earlier entries already, you might want to go back and check them out again. (Start with the first recording in 1890 or use the Archive links at the bottom of this page to navigate to your favorite entries.)

Meanwhile, I will continue to slowly update the remaining entries even while I work on adding new ones.

The Thin Line Between Jazz and Blues (1937)

2010-08-16T06:00:00.034-04:00

There had long been cross-over between jazz and blues, from the jazzy accompaniment on the earliest blues records to the use of twelve-bar blues arrangements in jazz. Versatile musicians like guitarist Lonnie Johnson refused to be categorized and recorded both jazzy blues and bluesy jazz, as well as some genre-defying stuff in-between. And talented singers like Billie Holiday staked out similar turf for vocalists.

The coming boogie woogie craze would further blur the lines, creating a sound that combined the speed and artistry of jazz with the raw urgency of the blues. Innovative swing bands like Count Basie’s would take that blueprint and lay the groundwork for “jump blues,” which would eventually evolve into rock and roll. Listen to the following recordings, and you can hear the framework already in place.

Meade “Lux” Lewis
“Honky Tonk Train Blues” (Victor 25541, 1937)

Meade “Lux” Lewis may be the most famous boogie-woogie pianist in history, but he was almost completely overlooked. He first recorded “Honky Tonk Train Blues” in 1927, but it was not released until 1929 (Paramount 12896), and even then it was not well received and Lewis faded back into obscurity. The record did make one notable fan, however: legendary record producer John Hammond, who actively searched for Lewis and eventually found him washing cars in Chicago. Hammond got Lewis back in the studio to re-record the song for the European market in 1935 (Parlophone R-2187). This time, he continued to perform although work was hard to come by. He eventually got his big break in 1938 – and started a national boogie woogie craze – in a series of concerts arranged by Hammond and featuring fellow pianists Albert Ammons and Pete Johnson.

The year before, Lewis again recorded his masterpiece in the studio, and this recording captured him at his peak, making it easy to see why concert goers would be impressed. He is masterful on the keys, making the complex song sound effortless. The steady, eight-to-the-bar beat really does invoke a train rolling down the tracks, although for modern audiences, it brings to mind even more the outrageous energy of the early rock and roll it would inspire. While Lewis’ left hand keeps the rhythm, his right hand rattles off a series of entertaining themes. Some of these are breathtaking in their speed, but some are just as impressive in their use of space as Lewis switches from brashly pounding the keys to dancing across them fluidly and then back again.

~ You may also like Lewis’ tribute to his mentor, Jimmy Yancey: Meade “Lux” Lewis, “Yancey Special” (Decca 819, 1936)

Jones-Smith, Incorporated
“Lady, Be Good” (Vocalion 3459, 1937)

Count Basie and His Orchestra featuring Jimmy Rushing
“Boogie Woogie (I May Be Wrong)” (Decca 1252, 1937)

Count Basie and His Orchestra
“One O’Clock Jump” (Decca 1363, 1937)

When top Kansas City bandleader Bennie Moten died of complications after a tonsillectomy in 1935, many alumni from his group followed pianist Count Basie in forming a new band. They were joined by a new tenor saxophone player, Lester Young, who would soon become a legend. With a stellar line-up of the best Kansas City had to offer, all the pieces were in place for greatness. And it would not be long in coming.

Their first recording session, and the first ever for Lester Young, was produced for Vocalion by John Hammond in October 1936. The band had already been signed to the competing Decca record label, so they recorded under the name “Smith-Jones, Incorporated” (named for trumpeter Carl Smith and drummer Jonathan “Jo” Jones). One of the tracks was “Lady, Be Good,” and it would prove a stunning debut. It starts with just Basie on piano, Walter Page on bass and Jo Jones on drums. Page’s subtle, eight-to-the-bar rhythm is perfectly steady while being utterly fluid and alive, and Basie’s minimalistic approach to soloing is riveting. Then Young enters on tenor sax and redefines the instrument’s role in jazz. Whereas the top tenor player of the day, Coleman Hawkins, had established the saxophone as a lead instrument with his straight-ahead, virtuoso playing, Young takes a more relaxed but no less swinging approach, creating a smooth sound that floats gracefully and speaks directly to the soul. Carl Smith takes a turn soloing with muted trumpet, and then the band wraps things up with an amazing finale that transitions from an amazing duet between Basie and Page to an even more amazing one where Smith plays staccato bursts beside Young’s transcendent saxophone.

~ You may also like: Count Basie and His Orchestra, “Doggin’ Around” (Decca 1965, 1938)

By the time Basie’s band made its first recordings for Decca in January 1937, it had grown from a small group to a full orchestra. One of their first singles was “Boogie Woogie (I May Be Wrong),” a song inspired by the music of boogie woogie blues pioneer Pine Top Smith. While the song’s structure is based on boogie woogie, it takes liberties with the format in translating it to a big band setting. Basie interjects a few passages of straight boogie woogie piano, but through most of the song he plays in his typical, spare style, creating open spaces where a few well-placed notes can speak volumes. Likewise, the rhythm section keeps an eight-to-the-bar rhythm through much of the song, but adopts a more relaxed pace during the vocals. Those vocals, by Jimmy Rushing, are the real showcase of the song and are wickedly amusing: “She got ways like a devil, she shaped like a frog / Start to lovin’ me, I holler ‘Ooo God-dog!’” Rushing, known as “Mr. Five by Five” (five feet tall and five feet wide), had the perfect style for Basie’s kind of jazz: boisterous and bluesy at its core, but polished and nuanced enough on the surface for jazz.

~ You may also like: Count Basie and His Orchestra featuri Jimmy Rushing, “Stop Beatin’ Round the Mulberry Bush” (Decca 2004, 1938)

Basie and company had their first nation-wide hit with “One O’Clock Jump.” Like many of the band’s numbers, the song was a “head” arrangement where the musicians improvised around a repeated, brief melody (or “riff”) without sheet music and with only a very basic idea of the song’s structure. With talented musicians such as these, the result was often magic, and in this case they created a timeless masterpiece that would be one of Basie’s signature tunes for the rest of his career. It begins with a teaser of a piano solo from Basie, then the riff begins and the musicians begin one of the most memorable string of solos in jazz history. Particularly noteworthy are the tenor saxophone solos by Herschel Evans and Lester Young. Evans goes early and displays a resonant, sophisticated tone that conveys as much emotion as a human voice. After a slurred solo by trombonist George “Rabbit” Hunt, Young enters with a high, airy solo that goes from insistent repetition to playful inventiveness. Trumpeter Buck Clayton and bassist Walter Page take their own brilliant turns, then Basie comes back for another spare interlude that heightens the tension. The payoff comes as the full band plays together to end the song.

~ You may also like: Count Basie and His Orchestra, “Topsy” (Decca 1770, 1938)

More String Band Music - Part 2 (1929-1931)

2010-07-31T06:00:00.033-04:00

I must admit that the differences between the regional styles of rural string band music were lost on me at first, but the more I've listened to this music, (and I've listened to it a lot lately), the more I've recognized just how rich and varied it was - not unlike the regional, rural blues of the same period. Here is my proof:

For good measure, here are two additional blues recordings I've added:

Next time: back to 1937 - and boogie-woogie!

More String Band Music - Part 1 (1927-1928)

2010-07-24T06:00:00.022-04:00

I recently obtained a copy of "Indian War Whoop," one of only four recordings ever made by Hoyt Ming and His Pep-Steppers, and it blew me away. I not only had to include it, I realized I had to go back and re-evaluate all of the string band music of the 1920s to see what other essential recordings I may have missed in my first pass. As it turns out, a lot. Here are half of them.

Next: the other half (1929-1931)...

More Gospel, Jazz and Blues (1927-1930)

2010-07-16T06:00:00.005-04:00

Here are three more great recordings that every music lover should know. They have been added to the appropriate previous entry. Special thanks to fixbutte for introducing me to Jabbo Smith and to AlRog for making me pay attention to Geeshie Wiley.

Next time: more early country...

Blues Evolving (1937)

2010-06-28T06:00:00.014-04:00

With the debuts of both Robert Johnson and the original Sonny Boy Williamson, 1937 turned out to be a watershed year for the blues and a turning point in more ways than one. Johnson represented a new breed of country bluesmen, influenced not just by their peers in the Mississippi Delta but by the more sophisticated styles coming out of big cities like St. Louis and Chicago. Meanwhile, in Chicago, Williamson was rewriting the rules with his harmonica and in St. Louis, Peetie Wheatstraw was banging on the piano and doing whatever he pleased. And all of them were making outstanding blues records that mixed an at times harsh surface with a smooth, underlying rhythmic steadiness.

Robert Johnson
“Sweet Home Chicago” (Vocalion 03601, 1937)

Considering the tremendous variety of tones and styles that Robert Johnson was known to perform live, it’s a pity that we get to hear such a limited part of his range on record. “Sweet Home Chicago” is a great example of that, the kind of record that you wish he had made a hundred of. It is certainly his most famous song, and for good reason. It follows the basic structure of the popular blues song “Kokomo Blues,” which had already been recorded by several different blues artists (most notably Kokomo Arnold in 1934). Johnson’s version upped the ante, though, becoming an instant classic that works on multiple levels. Its universal themes, simple structure and killer hook (“Baby, don’t you wanna go?”) make it the perfect blues cover song.

Indeed, “Sweet Home Chicago” is Johnson’s least complex recording, following a simple, repeated rhythmic pattern without the usual flair on guitar. Because of that it is one of the few records of his where you can actually tell that he is playing unaccompanied, making the record sound much more intimate and relaxed than any of his other work. Compared to the intensity of records like “Cross Road Blues,” it is refreshing to hear Johnson so loose. The performance sounds unrehearsed, as if Johnson was playing for no one but himself. The lyrics, sung with carefree abandon, only add to that sense. They come across simultaneously spontaneous and clever, like the best freestyle rap from half a century later: “Now six and two is eight / Eight and two is ten / Friend, boy, she trick you one time / She sure gonna do it again.” It has to be said, though, that the spontaneity of the lyrics does cause a little confusion, as it’s not sure what Johnson means when he seems to repeatedly place Chicago in California. Later cover versions would remove the references to California, but a little geographical ambiguity doesn’t diminish the genius of the original.

~ You may also like: Robert Johnson, “Rambling on My Mind” (Vocalion 03519, 1937)

Bukka White
“Shake ‘Em On Down” (Vocalion 03711, 1937)

Booker T. Washington White (Vocalion misspelled his name “Bukka” on this record, and it ended up sticking) is a seminal figure in the blues who was underappreciated in his time and to this day probably does not get as much credit as he deserves. White is often noted for giving his cousin, the legendary B.B. King, his first guitar and thereby jumpstarting the career of arguably the most famous modern bluesman. But he also created a body of work that stands toe-to-toe with any of his more famous Delta neighbors, while forging a unique style that sounded completely unlike anything else from the region.

White recorded a number of sides for Victor in Memphis in 1930, but his breakthrough came seven years later in Chicago when he recorded two songs with a second, unknown guitarist. “Shake ‘Em On Down” benefits greatly from the accompaniment. The steady, two-guitar rhythmic attack is so irresistible enough on its own, it seems almost unfair that White was allowed to add vocals to it – but we should all be glad he did! White’s crying, nasal voice is a treat and shows great range and power. Listen to the way he holds and develops notes, as if he were playing his vocal chords like he played his slide guitar. And all the while, the guitars strum relentlessly to the beat, almost forcing the listener to move in unison.

“Shake ‘Em On Down” would go on to become a blues standard, but the one-two punch of that rhythm and that voice is hard to beat. Put this on your alarm clock and you’ll never hit “snooze’ again.

~ You may also like: Bukka White, “Po’ Boy” (unreleased 1939 field recording by Alan Lomax; Herwin 92400, 1967)

Sonny Boy Williamson
“Good Morning, School Girl” (Bluebird B-7059, 1937)

Sonny Boy Williamson
“Sugar Mama Blues” (Bluebird B-7059, 1937)

It is because of John Lee “Sonny Boy” Williamson that today the harmonica is thought of first and foremost as a blues instrument. There were others who played harmonica blues, but before Williamson it seemed like a novelty. When Williamson played, though, the harmonica was the blues, and all of those guitar players seemed secondary.

“Good Morning, School Girl” was one of Williamson’s earliest records and stands as his all-time masterpiece. It starts with a bristling, overblown harmonica section that is simply brilliant. Williamson blows with incredible energy, yet keeps the pace restrained enough to let the bluesy emotion of the melody shine through. The passage quickly ends and Williamson begins to sing. He has a magnificent voice for the blues, every bit the equal of his playing, and it drips with character as he sings the pleading lyrics: “Good morning little school girl / Can I go home with you? / Now you can tell your mother and your father / That Sonny Boy’s a little school boy too.” I don’t know how to describe his singing any better than to say that he mumbles in all the right places, manipulating the tempo, volume and punctuation like a jazz musician. He switches seamlessly between vocals and harmonica throughout and his mastery of both is dazzling. A classic from beginning to end.

~ You may also like: Sonny Boy Williamson, “Sloppy Drunk Blues” (Bluebird B-8822, 1941)

“Sugar Mama Blues” is another great example of Williamson’s genius. The tempo is slow and the accompaniment spare, leaving Williamson room to spread out on both vocals and harmonica, and he doesn’t disappoint. He pulls out all the stops vocally, delivering a convincing, bottom-of-the-soul performance. There is raw, genuine strain and emotion from the opening syllables, and it continues throughout: “Sugar mama, sugar mama, sugar mama please come back to me / Bring me my granulated sugar, sugar mama, and try to ease my misery.” On harmonica, he keeps things simple but no less emotionally convincing, and that choice may do even more to prove the harp’s place in blues than any technically impressive display could. Williamson doesn’t use the harmonica as an instrument so much as he uses it as an extension of his voice and of his soul, and in doing so, he captures the unfiltered essence of the blues.

~ You may also like: Sonny Boy Williamson, “Early in the Morning” (Bluebird B-7302, 1937)

Peetie Wheatstraw
“Peetie Wheatstraw Stomp” (Decca 7292, 1937)

Peetie Wheatstraw was a one of the most recorded blues artists of the pre-war era, benefiting from a larger-than-life personality and a distinctive performing style. Wheatstraw was born William Bunch, but changed his name before moving to St. Louis in the late 1920s. He gave himself even more colorful nicknames, like the “High Sheriff from Hell” and the “Devil’s Son-in-Law,” and spun wild, boastful tales about his invented persona in the lyrics of many of his songs, including the boisterous “Peetie Wheatstraw Stomp.”

Wheatstraw is in top form on this record, showing why he was so entertaining to the St. Louis working-class with a performance that is rough around the edges yet highly entertaining. While banging out a sloppy, bouncing boogie rhythm on the piano, he slurs his way marble-mouthed through lyrics that brag about his abilities with women and music: “Women all ravin’ about Peetie Wheatstraw in this land / He got so many women they’re goin’ from hand to hand.” The best bit – and also the most ridiculous – may be at the end when he tells himself, “Now do your stuff, Peetie!” and closes out the song with a brief, madcap piano solo.

~ You may also like a slower, but no less boastful, number from Peetie Wheatstraw: “King of Spades” (Vocalion 3066, 1935)

At the Crossroads (1937)

2010-06-19T06:00:00.021-04:00

Robert Johnson is the best-known of all the Delta blues musicians. In part, this is because of his extraordinary, charismatic talent, which has inspired legends and influenced generations of blues and rock artists since. Luck also plays a part, however: although Johnson recorded only 29 songs (13 of them twice) over two recording sessions in 1936 and 1937, he was fortunate enough to record them for Vocalion, one of the better quality record labels, and to this day his recordings bear little of the surface noise that plague the recordings of so many of his fellow Delta bluesmen.

Robert Johnson
“Terraplane Blues” (Vocalion 03416, 1937)

“Terraplane Blues” (named after the Terraplane automobile brand) was Johnson’s signature tune and first and best selling single, and it is a great showcase for his remarkable range on both vocals and slide guitar. Johnson had a chameleon-like ability to copy and absorb the unique deliveries of his contemporaries, in the process making them his own. On this record, he sifts effortlessly from style to style – he sings high, he sings low, he sings falsetto, he moans, he growls and he even delivers some spoken lines. His guitar does similar gymnastics, starting with a slow, wailing slide style, but transitioning to more upbeat, intricate playing as needed, or becoming a percussion instrument as Johnson just bangs out the rhythm on it. It is a remarkable performance, but only the tip of the iceberg of what Johnson would accomplish in his too-short career.

~ You may also like: Robert Johnson, “Stop Breakin’ Down Blues” (Vocalion 04002, 1938)

Robert Johnson
“32-20 Blues” (Vocalion 03445, 1937)

Musically, “32-20 Blues” was one of the simplest, most straightforward songs Johnson ever recorded. It was also one of the best. Written and originally recorded as “22-20 Blues” by Skip James (Paramount 13066, 1931), the lyrics are absorbing. A man calmly discusses the woman who he believes has done him wrong and the violence he plans to do in return (a 32-20 was a kind of gun): “Oh, baby, where you stay last night? / You got your hair all tangled and you ain’t talkin’ right.”

Johnson bangs out a slow, percussive beat on his guitar strings, adding some spare finger work here and there. And he sings with a slow, deliberate voice in a narrow register. Despite the lack of fireworks, or perhaps because of it, the song is amazingly deep. Stripped of all gimmicks, Johnson’s stunning talent remains undiminished. In fact, listening to him perform this way, with nothing but his raw charisma on display, adds extra weight to the cold, calculated lyrics, making this performance as electrifying as anything in his catalog.

~ You may also like: Robert Johnson, “Traveling Riverside Blues” (Vocalion, unreleased 1937 recording; King of the Delta Blues Singers, Columbia CL 1654, 1961)

Robert Johnson
“I Believe I’ll Dust My Broom” (Vocalion 03475, 1937)

Johnson was a tremendous innovator on the guitar, and perhaps nowhere is that more evident than on “I Believe I’ll Dust My Broom.” When guitarist Keith Richards of the Rolling Stones first heard this record, he is reported to have asked, “Who is the other guy playing with him?” – unable to fathom that Johnson could simultaneously be playing the rhythm and lead parts so seamless on the same guitar. Listen closely and you will find yourself similarly astonished. Although the technique is frequently copied on electric guitar today, at the time it was revolutionary. Johnson keeps a steady, boogie beat on the low strings while he rapidly picks the high strings for variations on the main theme.

The vocals are also quite engaging, and Johnson exhibits jazz-singer like timing in delivering them: never quite on the beat, but always aware of it. This is one of the more lighthearted blues Johnson recorded, and it is fun to listen to. It tells the story of a man who catches his woman cheating on him and “dusts his broom” – slang for leaving her completely and forever. Afterwards, he looks for another woman, starting in nearby towns (West Helena, East Monroe) and, in a humorous turn, ending across the world in places like China and Ethiopia.

~ You may also like: Robert Johnson, “Last Fair Deal Gone Down” (Vocalion 03445, 1937)

Robert Johnson
“Cross Road Blues” (Vocalion 03519, 1937)

One of the most oft-repeated parts of the mythology surrounding Robert Johnson is the story of him meeting the devil at the crossroads one night and selling his soul in exchange for his tremendous talent. While it is certainly possible to listen to “Cross Road Blues” in the context of that legend, it’s not necessarily the best interpretation. On the surface, the song can be read as no more than a tale of being stranded without transportation: “I tried to flag a ride / Didn’t nobody seem to know me, babe / Everybody passed me by.” Metaphorically, the crossroads could stand for any number of trying turning points in the narrator’s life. Johnson opens the song with a strong spiritual plea: “I went to the cross road / Fell down on my knees / Asked the Lord, boy, for mercy / Save poor Bob if you please.” In other places, however, he sings of the loneliness of not having a woman.

Regardless of the interpretation, there is certainly a strong sense of despair throughout, and it is Johnson’s conveyance of that emotion that has made the recording so popular. From the moment his voice cracks hitting the high, opening note, you can feel the narrator’s torment. Both his voice and his guitar oscillate between deep, introspective tones and uncomfortably high ones. He plays the guitar’s high notes sharp and choppy, amplifying the sense of anguish.

~ You may also like: Robert Johnson, “Preaching Blues (Up Jumped the Devil)” (Vocalion 04630, 1939)

Robert Johnson
“Come on in My Kitchen” (Vocalion 03563, 1937)

One of Johnson’s most soulful recordings, he begins the song with a moan and his singing never strays far from moaning. Even when he injects a spoken interlude at one point, his voice is a low mumble. His remarkable slide playing is equally soulful, diving in an impressive arc from the high notes to the low. Best of all, though, may be his brilliant use of space, as he stops playing a few times, holds the silence a second longer than expected, and then snaps the guitar back into place.

~ You may also like: Robert Johnson, “Walking Blues” (Vocalion 03601, 1937)

Robert Johnson
“Hell Hound on My Trail” (Vocalion 03623, 1937)

This may be Johnson’s most vocally expressive performance, as he keeps his voice noticeably strained through much of it. His guitar work is mostly spare and plodding, with a few discordant high notes added here and there for emphasis, creating an ominous tone that perfectly reflects the imagery of the classic opening verse: “I’ve got to keep moving…with a hellhound on my trail.”

~ You may also like: Robert Johnson, “If I Had Possession over Judgment Day” (Vocalion, unreleased 1936 recording; King of the Delta Blues Singers, Columbia CL 1654, 1961)

Country Kings (1936-1937)

2010-06-18T06:00:00.017-04:00

The years 1936 and 1937 were breakthrough years for three of country music’s biggest names: Bill Monroe, the father of bluegrass; Bob Wills, the master of western swing; and Roy Acuff, the king of country.

The Monroe Brothers
“What Would You Give In Exchange?” (Bluebird B-6309, 1936)

Bill Monroe, the father of bluegrass music, began his recording career as part of a close-harmony singing duo with his brother Charlie. “What Would You Give In Exchange?” was a huge hit for the brothers – so much so that they went on to record three sequels to it. Charlie plays gentle rhythm guitar and Bill adds quiet but superb flourishes on mandolin that only hint at the proficiency he would show later in his career. The mandolin had never before been considered a lead instrument, but then again it had never before been played so adeptly.

Meanwhile, their voices are perfectly matched in close harmony with each other, as only siblings can be. The result is so sweet that it almost belies the cautionary lyrics: “Risk not your soul / It is precious indeed.”

~ You may also like: The Monroe Brothers, “My Long Journey Home” (Bluebird B-6422, 1936)

The Blue Sky Boys
“Sunny Side of Life” (B-6457, 1936)

Earl and Bill Bolick were another close-harmony brother duo, and in fact one of the best. “Sunny Side of Life” was their first hit and an excellent example of their addictive singing style. Just as they stay close but not quite together on harmony, so too they parallel each other on the lyrics during the choruses with enchanting results. One brother draws out words like “happy” and “sunny” while the other says them each twice, adding a dynamic dimension to what had seemed a low-key song. Factor in the sheer magic of the way the brothers’ voices sound together and you have the makings of an amazing record.

~ You may also like: The Monroe Brothers, “My Savior’s Train” (Bluebird B-6729, 1936)

Bob Wills and His Texas Playboys
“Steel Guitar Rag” (Vocalion 3394, 1936)

Bob Wills and His Texas Playboys
“Right or Wrong” (Vocalion 3451, 1936)

The untimely death of Milton Brown cut short the career of one of the true masters of “western swing” music. Fortunately, the music carried on through many other artists, and it was Brown’s good friend and former band mate who led the way. Bob Wills was a fiddle player who had served with Brown in the Light Crust Doughboys in Fort Worth, Texas in the early 1930s, and it was there that the pair created the basic blueprint for what would become western swing. Wills’ ear for the music matched, and possibly even surpassed, his friend’s. While Wills employed other people to sing the lead vocals, each song was peppered with his trademark interjections, often in a high-pitched nasal tone: “Aww, swing it, Mr. Leon, swing it!”

“Steel Guitar Rag” is a great example of energetic, no-holds-barred western swing. It features Leon McAuliffe in an electrifying performance on electric steel guitar. The steel guitar’s trademark slide sound comes from sustaining notes, so one might think that using it as the lead instrument would make for a slow record. Instead, the rhythm section propels it forward with relentless energy, while McAuliffe adds color by making the steel sing. The other instruments are just as good: Al Stricklin bangs raucously on piano, and Robert “Zeb” McNally gives a rock-and-roll worthy performance on the sax. Little touches like cowbell and shouts from Wills add to the entertainment.

~ You may also like: Bob Wills and His Texas Playboys, “Osage Stomp” (Vocalion 3096, 1935)

“Right or Wrong” shows Wills and company in a slower, but no less compelling context. The vocals are sung by Tommy Duncan, who was the band’s primary vocalist during its heyday from 1933 to 1948. Duncan has the perfect voice for western swing: strong and twangy enough for country, but smooth and sophisticated enough for jazz. The lyrics are wonderfully heartbreaking, and Duncan imbues them with just the right amount of pathos. His band mates are wonderful too, from Wills’ longing fiddle solo at the beginning to the bittersweet melancholy of Everett Stover’s Mexican-style trumpet during the bridge. The sorrowful tension hits a boiling point at the end as Duncan raises his voice to a wail and repeats, “All along I thought I’d lose you!” He then adds a little well-placed yodel to brilliant effect as he brings the song to its conclusion.

~ You may also like: Bob Wills and His Texas Playboys, “Who Walks in When I Walk Out” (Vocalion 3206, 1936)

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1937 Headlines … Great Depression continues … Franklin D. Roosevelt begins second term as U.S. President … German airship Hindenburg consumed by fire … Joe Louis becomes heavyweight boxing champ
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Roy Acuff and His Crazy Tennesseans
“Great Speckled Bird” (Melotone 7-01-59, 1937)

Roy Acuff is one of country music’s giants and the first person ever inducted into the Country Music Hall of Fame. In addition to being one of the Grand Ole Opry’s biggest stars for decades, he would become one of country music’s most influential people after co-founding Acuff-Rose Music, the first major Nashville-based music publishing company, in 1942.

“Great Speckled Bird” was one of his signature songs and his first big hit. Over Clell Sumne’s slow, haunting steel guitar, Acuff reverently sings this popular hymn written by Reverend Guy Smith. The lyrics describe the Bible as a speckled bird, based on Jeremiah 12:9 (“Mine heritage is unto me as a speckled bird, the birds round about are against her…”). Acuff had a good strong voice that came across clearly on radio and record alike. While he could be quite animated, on this record he wisely showed great restraint, measuring his words carefully and allowing the story and Sumne’s ethereal slide work to carry the song.

~ You may also like Acuff singing to a different style of steel guitar: Roy Acuff and His Crazy Tennesseans, “Steel Guitar Blues” (Melotone 7-07-52, 1937)

Standing on the Blues (1936)

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There weren't a lot of noteworthy blues records issued in 1936, but here are two exceptional, somewhat atypical records that did stand out: a saucy, jazzy number from Lady Day and some excellent Mississippi gospel blues.

Billie Holiday
“Billie’s Blues” (Vocalion 3288, 1936)

This record shows Holiday at her sultry best as she belts out the bluesy lyrics with a feather-light touch. The final verse is lifted almost word for word from the 1925 Ethel Waters song “Down Home Blues” (Columbia 14093-D), but Holiday makes it all her own: “Some men like me ‘cause I’m happy, some ‘cause I’m snappy / Some call me honey, others think I’ve got money / Some tell me, ‘Baby, you built for speed’ / Now if you put that all together, makes me everything a good man need.”

Equally good is the accompaniment, featuring a flirtatious solo from Artie Shaw on clarinet and a growling come-on from Bunny Berigan on trumpet.

~ You may also like: Teddy Wilson and His Orchestra featuring Billie Holiday, “This Year’s Kisses” (Brunswick 7824, 1937)

Blind Roosevelt Graves and Brother
“Woke Up This Morning (With My Mind On Jesus)” (Melotone 6-11-74, 1936)

This is an outstanding gospel blues by brothers Roosevelt and Uaroy Graves. Roosevelt’s very competent slide guitar and lead vocals are brought to life with some dynamic tambourine and backup vocals by Uaroy. The brothers imbue real passion into their performance. Roosevelt sings in a clear, strong voice, while Uaroy’s grittier voice adds commentary (“Oh, Lordy now!”) in the background. It makes a powerful statement when they come together to sing the refrain, “Standing on Jesus!” at the end of each line.

~ You may also like the equally moving B-side to the original single: Blind Roosevelt Graves and Brother, “I’ll Be Rested (When the Roll Is Called)” (Melotone 6-11-74, 1936)

Casa Loma Orchestra (1931-1934)

2010-06-16T06:00:00.026-04:00

To finish out the string of new songs inserted in old posts, here are two songs I have added by the very talented Casa Loma Orchestra. Thanks to heartofglass and fixbutte over at Rate Your Music for cluing me in to the original version of "Blue Moon."

Next up: I get back to where I left off in 1936 with "Billie's Blues" and more great songs!

More Twenties Music (1921-1928)

2010-06-15T06:00:00.014-04:00

As promised, here are four new songs I added from the 1920s:

Next time, by popular demand: the Casa Loma Orchestra.

(...Then we'll get back to 1936...)

More 19th and Early 20th Century Recordings (1892-1914)

2010-06-12T06:00:00.019-04:00

When I started this project, I was very familiar with music from 1920 onward, but I had only a sketchy knowledge of the three decades before that. I have been working hard for some time now to fill in those gaps, and add songs where appropriate. Here are a few more early ones I've now added.

You'll find three new songs in a new section titled "Minstrelsy (1891-1899)":

In addition, I have added two new songs from the early 1900s:

Next up: more gems from the 1920s...

A Couple More Additions (1903-1906)

2010-05-23T06:00:00.007-04:00

Here are two more very early recordings I added to older posts. Some of these additions come from suggestions. Others, such as these two, are records I stumbled upon along the journey of writing this blog. The Bert Williams song, in particular, was a revelation - and gives me hope that I will never run out of good music to discover. Enjoy!

Stay tuned: I still have a few more that need to be added from the 1920s and early '30s, as well as tons of new ones from the late '30s and beyond...

A Few Additions (1921-1935)

2010-05-16T08:30:00.005-04:00

Hello, everyone. Sorry for being away so long. I wasn't lost, I just had a lot going on at the beginning of this year, as I got married, moved, went on a honeymoon and worked on some big projects for my day job. But I have been writing, and I will begin posting to this blog again soon.

In the meantime, I have gone back and added a few recordings I missed in my first pass. (Thank you to everyone who has made suggestions - and please keep doing so!) In case you missed them, here are links to the posts I added them to:

Finally, if you like a particular track and want to hear more of the same, I have started going back and adding tips on what to listen to next: “You may also like...” Look for all of the older posts to be updated soon, and all newer posts to include these tips going forward.

Jazz Bands Stretch Their Legs (1936)

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In 1936, the Big Band scene was starting to heat up in America, and band leaders responded with a variety of excellent recordings. Meanwhile, across the Atlantic, some very talented European musicians were showing that expertise in jazz was no longer limited to Americans.

Tommy Dorsey and His Orchestra
“I’m Getting Sentimental Over You” (Victor 25236, 1936)

Tommy Dorsey was a talented trombonist who had played with many of the top Chicago jazz groups of the 1920s and early ‘30s. He would go on to become one of the most popular big band leaders of the era. Although his orchestra would have bigger hits than “I’m Getting Sentimental Over You,” there would never be a better showcase for their leader’s talent on trombone. The trombone tends to have a larger-than-life personality as an instrument, but here Dorsey reigns it in to deliver a soft, sentimental performance. The entire band does a fine job with this material, but it is Dorsey’s rich, graceful soling that stands out and makes this record such a classic.

~ You may also like: Freddy Martin and His Orchestra featuring Elmer Feldkamp, “I Saw Stars” (Brunswick 6948, 1934)

Le Quintette du Hot Club de France
“Djangology” (Decca 23003, 1936)

Not long after jazz exploded in popularity in the U.S. in the 1920s, European audiences also began paying attention. Many of America’s top jazz stars, such as clarinetist Sidney Bechet, were able to extend their careers by playing in France. Before long, French musicians were copying the new style and adding their own spin to it. Chief among them was the Quintet of the Hot Club of France, an all-string ensemble of the highest caliber that featured Jean “Django” Reinhardt, one of the all-time great guitarists of any nationality. Reinhardt had only partial use of two of the fingers on his left hand, owing to injuries sustained in a fire when he was 18. This led him to develop his own unique playing style that was as impressive as it was distinct. Reinhardt was a Gypsy and combined the music he had learned in his youth with his passion for jazz to create a new “Gypsy jazz” sound that was utterly spellbinding.

“Djangology,” one of his original compositions, showcases his virtuosity splendidly. It is an easy-going piece that features some highly inventive soloing by both Reinhardt and violinist Stéphane Grappelli. The pair perform complex maneuvers in the most relaxed way. Reinhardt’s guitar is the centerpiece. For the first half of the record, he plays an entrancing solo, and on the second half he adds little interjections behind Grappelli’s violin, turning the song into an upbeat, friendly musical conversation. Reinhardt is particularly good at using contrast in beautifully inventive ways. For example, he will lure the listener into a trance repeating a low passage, then suddenly provide an unexpected but lovely, high response. Likewise, in the middle of such beautiful melody, he will keep things interesting with a few well-placed discordant strokes.

~ You may also like: Le Quintette du Hot Club de France with Freddie Taylor, “After You’ve Gone” (Victor 25511, 1937)

Fletcher Henderson and His Orchestra
“Christopher Columbus (A Rhythm Cocktail)” (Vocalion 3211, 1936)

After Benny Goodman hit it big in 1935 with a Fletcher Henderson arrangement of “King Porter Stomp,” Henderson quickly capitalized on the opportunity by reassembling his own orchestra. The band soon had a major hit with this classic, in which the band members improvise a series of superb solos over a highly memorable main theme.

Although there were several new faces in the band this time, it is amazing to hear how fully-formed the orchestra sounded. Two of the newest faces provided some of the best highlights: Roy Eldridge’s wailing trumpet and Leon “Chu” Berry’s smooth tenor sax. One can only wonder to what heights they would have soared if Henderson had been able to hold the band together, but sadly they were unable to maintain their momentum and by 1939 had disbanded again for good.

~ You may also like: Fletcher Henderson and His Orchestra, “Hotter Than ‘Ell” (Decca 3518, 1940)

Benny Goodman and His Orchestra
“The Glory Of Love” (Victor 25316, 1936)

After the success of “King Porter Stomp” in 1935, Goodman could do no wrong. He scored 15 Top Ten hits in 1936, including this lovely chart-topper written by Billy Hill. Helen Ward’s vocals are the centerpiece of the record. Her voice is charmingly sweet on the high notes, with a hint of worldly sauciness on the low notes (such as when she sings the words “a little” at the end of each line). Although very subtle, Jess Stacey’s mischievous piano provides the perfect accompaniment. And when the vocals end, Goodman unleashes one of his patented so-sweet-it’s-hot solos on clarinet.

~ You may also like: Benny Goodman and His Orchestra featuring Ella Fitzgerald, “Goodnight, My Love” (Victor 25461, 1936)

Sentimental Singers (1935-1936)

2010-01-17T06:00:00.014-05:00

The next selections are feature vocals that are almost too sentimental, but the singers are all top-notch, and with performances this magnificent it’s easy to forgive a little maudlin.

Fats Waller and His Rhythm
“I’m Gonna Sit Right Down and Write Myself a Letter” (Victor 25044, 1935)

This is another striking example of Waller’s talents, this time showing him interpreting someone else’s material (music by Fred E. Ahlert, lyrics by Joe Young). The lyrics are pure gold, written from the point of view of someone who tries to cheer himself up by writing a letter and willing himself to believe that his love has written it. Although the record’s sound is generally upbeat, it is filled with a dramatic poignancy by the knowledge that his love couldn’t or wouldn’t write to him herself: “Gonna smile and say, ‘I hope you’re feeling better’ / And close ‘with love’ the way you do / I’m gonna sit right down and write myself a letter / And make believe it came from you.”

The instrumentation is all understated, placing Waller’s honeyed vocals squarely at the center of the listener’s attention. Waller’s voice is much less animated than in most of his recordings, as he prefers to let the simple, sweet melody and lyrics speak for themselves. In addition to Waller’s effortless piano, Rudy Powell’s clarinet wistfully responds to each line as it is sung, and Herman Autry has a subdued trumpet solo during the break.

~ You may also like one of Waller’s more over-the-top records: Fats Waller and His Rhythm, “Hold Tight (Want Some Sea Food Mama)” (Bluebird B-10116, 1939)

Fred Astaire
“Cheek To Cheek” (Brunswick 7486, 1935)

Fred Astaire was not the strongest singer of his day, but he used what he had marvelously. “Cheek to Cheek” is a great example: the fragile delicateness of Astaire’s voice in the higher notes actually adds to the tenderness of his delivery and strengthens the sentiment. This is a lovely song, well arranged and beautifully performed. Just listen to the subtle but exciting way the violins answer Astaire as he sings, “Heaven, I’m in heaven.” Heavenly!

~ You may also like: Andy Kirk and His Twelve Clouds of Joy, “Until the Real Thing Comes Along” (Decca 809, 1936)

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1936 Headlines … Great Depression continues … Edward VIII becomes King of the U.K., then abdicates and is succeeded by George VI … American Jesse Owens wins four gold medals at Olympics in Berlin
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Fred Astaire
“The Way You Look Tonight” (Brunswick 7717, 1936)

This is probably the most beautiful record Astaire ever made. As in “Cheek to Cheek,” the frailty of Astaire’s voice is its strength, its thinness providing transparency into his soul. The orchestra makes its presence known more forcefully in this outing and becomes the perfect dance partner to Astaire’s sentimental vocals. Those vocals are made powerful by wonderful lyrics that masterfully pull at the heartstrings: “Someday , when I’m awfully low / When the world is cold / I will feel a glow just thinking of you / And the way you look tonight.”

~ You may also like: Ray Noble and His Orchestra featuring Al Bowlly, “The Very Thought of You” (Victor 24657, 1934)

Bing Crosby
“Pennies From Heaven” (Decca 947, 1936)

“Pennies from Heaven” shows why Crosby was the top crooner of his generation. His full, baritone voice is in top form as he slowly unfolds the sentiment in every word, stretching each note to its dramatic limit. The highlight of the record may be the introduction. It has a looser, more playful feel and Crosby magnificently fills the space with a reassuring warmth, setting the stage for the more familiar refrain that dominates the rest of the song.

~ You may also like: Bing Crosby, “Brother, Can You Spare a Dime?” (Brunswick 6414, 1932)

Big Bands Boom (1935)

2009-12-06T06:00:00.010-05:00

Louis Armstrong and Fletcher Henderson had laid out the blueprint for big band swing music in 1925, but it wasn’t until a decade later that mainstream audiences finally, wholeheartedly latched onto the sound. Benny Goodman’s “King Porter Stomp” was the record that broke through and started the national craze in earnest, but as the following selections show, it was far from the only important swing record released that year.

Jimmie Lunceford and His Orchestra
“Rhythm Is Our Business” (Decca 369, 1935)

Like Milton Brown’s “Down By The O-H-I-O,” the playful lyrics in Jimmie Lunceford’s “Rhythm Is Our Business” call out the individual instruments before their solos, running through drums (“Oh, when he does tricks with sticks / The boys in the band all play hot licks!”), saxophone, bass and trumpet. The playing is superb all around. Joe Thomas’s tenor saxophone solo is particularly enjoyable, displaying an amazingly fluid sense of swing that leaves you wanting more.

~ You may also like: Jimmie Lunceford and His Orchestra, “Margie” (Decca 1617, 1938)

The Dorsey Brothers featuring Bob Crosby
“Lullaby of Broadway” (Decca 370, 1935)

Brothers Tommy (trombone) and Jimmy (alto sax and clarinet) Dorsey were both talented musicians who would go on to become top bandleaders of the swing era. Early in their careers, before a falling out caused them to split, they lead an orchestra together and turned out some great music such as “Lullaby of Broadway” written by Harry Warren and Al Dubin, for the film Gold Diggers of 1935. The Dorsey Brothers’ recording featured Bing Crosby’s younger brother Bob (who would also go on to become a popular bandleader) on vocals. Crosby gives a fine vocal performance reminiscent of his brother’s warm crooning. The real treat here, though, is the incredibly tight playing of the band, which moves fluidly between a variety of styles from slow lullaby to buoyant swing. The use of a car horn as an instrument in the beginning is a great touch and sets a playful tone that carries throughout the record. The highlight comes in the final minute when the singing ends and the band really cuts loose with a wailing burst from Jimmy, some well-placed piano and percussion, and a fast-paced run at the end by the entire ensemble.

~ You may also like: Jimmy Dorsey and His Orchestra featuring Bob Eberly and Helen O'Connell, “Tangerine” (Decca 4123, 1942)

Teddy Wilson and His Orchestra featuring Billie Holiday
“What A Little Moonlight Can Do” (Brunswick 7498, 1935)

Teddy Wilson’s sublime skill at the piano provided him with the opportunity to lead his own band in 1935, and right out of the gate that band produced this incredible record. With Benny Goodman on clarinet (who delivers an awe-inspiring opening solo), Ben Webster on tenor sax, Roy Eldridge on trumpet and Wilson himself on piano, it was already an all-star band, but what pushes this performance over the top is the addition of Billie Holiday on vocals. Holiday sounds like a veteran already, displaying an impeccable sense of swing as she plays her breathy voice like a jazz instrument. Holiday makes the lyrics her own, imbuing them with a sultry passion that speaks volumes beyond the words themselves. The way she sings “Oo-oo-oo, what a little moonlight can do-oo-oo” sends tingles up my spine. Some find the scratchiness of her voice distracting at first, but bear with it. If you are unfamiliar with the great Lady Day, you are in for a treat: the more you listen to her, the more you will begin to understand the subtle control and warm timbre that place her talent out of reach of mere mortals.

~ You may also like: Teddy Wilson and His Orchestra featuring Billie Holiday, “I Cried for You (Now It's Your Turn to Cry Over Me)” (Brunswick 7729, 1936)

Benny Goodman and His Orchestra
“King Porter Stomp” (Victor 25090, 1935)

On the one hand, it seems unfair that Benny Goodman, a white bandleader, should get the glory of making the record that jumpstarted the big band swing craze. After all, African Americans had been making swing music since Louis Armstrong joined Fletcher Henderson’s orchestra in 1925. On the other hand, if any record had to finally capture the public’s attention, you would be hard pressed to find one more deserving than the Goodman orchestra’s rendition of “King Porter Stomp.”

In fact, Goodman deserves a lot of credit. Not only was he one of the best clarinetists and bandleaders of the era, but he was smart enough and colorblind enough to collaborate with the best musicians he could, even when that meant flying in the face of segregation. It was that kind of thinking that put Goodman into position to become the “King of Swing” in the first place. When Fletcher Henderson’s orchestra began to struggle during the Great Depression, Goodman wisely bought song arrangements from him and hired Henderson and his men to teach Goodman’s own musicians how to play “hot” swing music. And so it was that in 1935 Goodman’s band recorded a Henderson arrangement of Jelly Roll Morton’s tribute to fellow pianist Porter King.

Henderson’s arrangement completely re-worked Morton’s original, transforming it from a solo piano / small group piece into one of the most amazing big band numbers ever created. And in 1935, Goodman’s group nailed the performance. This music is not derivative in any way. The band is incredibly talented and manages to swing with a graceful style all its own. Two performances stand out in particular: first, Goodman himself solos for nearly three quarters of a minute, laying down one of the most instinctive and inviting clarinet solos ever. Then, just as the listener has been completely entranced, trumpeter Bunny Berigan bursts in to take over with a solo as propulsive as Goodman’s was seductive. Berigan also provides the cool spark that kicks off the record, while Jack Lacey adds a fine, raspy solo on trombone. Great fun and deserving of its place in history!

~ You may also like: Fletcher Henderson and His Orchestra, “Wrappin’ It Up” (Decca 157, 1934)

Duke Ellington
“In A Sentimental Mood” (Brunswick 7461, 1935)

This was the first recording of “In A Sentimental Mood,” one of Ellington’s loveliest compositions. It is a moody loveliness, spending much of the time in a brooding minor key, but it also has a delicate beauty that is indeed sentimental. Harry Carney does a wonderful job on tenor sax, filling the first half of the record with a rich, warm, comforting tone. Lawrence Brown’s longing performance on trombone is nearly as good in the second half, and Otto “Toby” Hardwick (alto sax) and Rex Stewart (cornet) add all the right touches to bring it all together.

~ You may also like: Duke Ellington and His Orchestra, “Solitude” (Victor 24755, 1934)

Western Swing (1935)

2009-12-02T00:00:00.007-05:00

While people usually associate big band swing music with jazz, a similar style blossomed in country music around the same time. "Western swing" music developed in Fort Worth, Texas in the early 1930s and by the end of the decade had become one of the most popular styles of country music. (The term “western swing” would not be used to describe the style until the early 1940s, however.) Building upon the traditional, small-group string band, this music featured highly arranged string orchestras reminiscent of jazz big bands, and often featured the same kind of improvised soloing. The best western swing featured amazing musicianship, winning vocals and an incredible sense of energy. It is a style all too often overlooked by modern audiences, but its influence can be seen in honky tonk, bluegrass, and even rock and roll.

Patsy Montana and the Prairie Ramblers
“I Wanna Be A Cowboy’s Sweetheart” (Conqueror 8575, 1935)

On their own, The Prairie Ramblers were a talented and versatile string band, but it was their work with singer Patsy Montana (real name Ruby Blevins) that is most remembered. “I Wanna Be A Cowboy’s Sweetheart” was Montana’s breakout hit and would become the first record by a female country artist to sell more than a million copies. Both Montana and the Ramblers shine in this incredible performance. Montana’s singing is highly expressive and yet moderated by the melody, which follows a traditional singing cowboy approach. Every time she hits a higher note, the melody reverses and brings her back to the ground with a string of lower ones. However, her singing is only part of the story, as Montana was also an accomplished yodeler. Whenever she yodels there are no such restraints, and she adds a wonderfully addictive new dimension to the melody that explores her full range.

Meanwhile, behind her The Prairie Ramblers ignore the standard singing cowboy convention of simple guitar accompaniment and instead create a lively, full string band sound. The entertaining result falls somewhere between cowboy and old-time country music – and transcends them both. In fact, while the ensemble may be smaller than what is typically found in western swing music, it certainly captures the same energy and hints at that new style’s potential.

~ You may also like: Bill Boyd’s Cowboy Ramblers, “Wah Hoo” (Bluebird B-6308, 1936)

Bill Boyd’s Cowboy Ramblers
“Under The Double Eagle” (Victor 5945, 1935)

“Under The Double Eagle” is a great early example of western swing. Unlike a lot of the more adventurous records in that style, the solos here are very scripted, but the melody is wonderful and the tightly choreographed band plays it to perfection. After a couple of bars of solo piano, the rhythm section jumps in and bounds through the song with relentless energy. Guitar and fiddle take turns carrying the main melody. The highlight of the song comes when the fiddle solo becomes a duet and the melody changes briefly to resemble what would later become the melody of “You Are My Sunshine.”

~ You may also like: Bill Boyd’s Cowboy Ramblers, “Goofus” (Bluebird B-6328, 1936)

Milton Brown and His Musical Brownies
“Brownie’s Stomp” (Bluebird B-5775, 1935)

Milton Brown and His Musical Brownies
“Down By The O-H-I-O” (Decca 5111, 1935)

Milton Brown was one of the forefathers and undisputed masters of western swing. He tragically died from pneumonia following a car accident in 1936 just as his career was taking off, but in his short time as bandleader he created numerous masterpieces. “Brownie’s Stomp” and “Down By The O-H-I-O” are two great examples that feature arrangements with plenty of space for soloing. In “Brownie’s Stomp,” the energy level is at a maximum and the solos come in rapid succession, occasionally punctuated by an interjection (“Yeah!”) from Brown. When the song reaches Fred Calhoun’s piano solo, you realize that the lines between jazz and country have officially been erased.

~ You may also like a somewhat slower recording by the band with more great solos as well as vocals by Brown: Milton Brown and His Musical Brownies, “When I Take My Sugar to Tea” (Decca 5201, 1936)

“Down By The O-H-I-O” is nearly as energetic, but features a tighter song structure and Brown on vocals. The lyrics wonderfully set up the solos: “Now I’m gonna take my guitar / Oh, I’m gonna play on my guitar / Oh, I’m gonna really play that thing / Oh, I’m gonna knock off a dozen strings!” Between each line, the band members sing out “Down by the Ohio!” in the background and play their hearts out. Fiddle, guitar, piano and banjo each take fine solos before Bob Dunn appears with the most unusual and best solo of all on an electrically amplified steel guitar. Dunn’s inventive playing on this and several other Brownies recordings was very influential and would help cement the steel guitar’s role in country music.

~ You may also like some more great soloing by Bob Dunn and others: Milton Brown and His Musical Brownies, “Taking Off” (Decca 5149, 1935)

Please Don't Go (1934-1935)

2009-11-17T06:00:00.030-05:00

The following recordings show the amazing variety and individuality to be found in rural music, even at the height of the Great Depression. Every one of these records is an unparalleled classic.

Bessie Smith
“Gimme a Pigfoot (And a Bottle of Beer)” (Okeh 8949, 1934)

“Gimme a Pigfoot” shows Bessie Smith at her rawest and best. Vocally, she pulls out all the stops, hitting the typical highs with her powerful voice, but also unapologetically hitting all the lows with a snarling growl. By the time she sings, “He’s got rhythm – yeah!” there’s no doubt where the song is headed. The rest of the devil-may-care lyrics only add fuel to the fire as Smith calls for not just a pigfoot and a bottle of beer, but also for refer and gin as she demands a good time.

The accompaniment reflects the bluesy rowdiness as well, with the lead piano (by Buck Washington) and trumpet (by Frankie Newton) parts played playfully and loose. Newton’s trumpet solo, in particular, is wonderful as it slurs through the meandering notes and slides drunkenly into the final verse. Also providing colorful touches are swing legends Jack Teagarden on trombone, Chu Berry on tenor sax and Benny Goodman on clarinet.

Unfortunately, the November 24, 1933 recording session that yielded “Gimme a Pigfoot” would be Smith’s last. The hard-hit economy and the public’s appetite for newer sounds left her behind, and she was killed in a car crash only a few years later (in September 1937 at age 43).

~ You may also like: Bessie Smith, “Do Your Duty” (Okeh 8945, 1933)

Joe Pullum
“Black Gal, What Makes Your Head So Hard?” (Bluebird B-5459, 1934)

“Black Gal, What Makes Your Head So Hard?” was a big hit in 1934 for its composer Joe Pullum. It was covered by many other artists, but none could match the Houston native’s original. With Rob Cooper on piano, Pullum slowly unfolds a dramatic story of lost love and jealous obsession: “When I got my bonus, she followed me all over town / Now that she spent all my money, she don’t even want me around.”

Besides the song’s clever lyrics, Pullum’s version was appealing because of his unique vocal style. He sang entirely in falsetto, but exhibited remarkable vocal control while doing so: his voice was clear and breathy but never shrill. He even sings the lower octaves in falsetto, adding a nasal resonance to give his voice more depth and texture. The result not only sounded great, but distinguished him from his contemporaries. In addition to the spellbinding falsetto, Pullum adds other captivating little touches, like rolling his r’s throughout. He ends the song on a threatening note, making a wonderful nasal growl as the narrator promises revenge on the woman who did him wrong.

~ You may also like: Skip James, “Little Cow and Calf Is Gonna Die Blues” (Paramount 13085, 1931)

Leroy Carr & Scrapper Blackwell
“Blues Before Sunrise” (Vocalion 02657, 1934)

“Blues Before Sunrise” is another classic from urban blues pioneers Leroy Carr and Scrapper Blackwell. This is one of the darkest songs the duo ever recorded, with subject matter that skips right over melancholy to despair and ultimately murder. Fittingly, except for the occasional high, falsetto flourish, Carr keeps his voice at the bottom of his range throughout the song. His piano playing, too, is slow and deliberate. Meanwhile, Blackwell’s exquisite slide guitar perfectly captures the song’s depressing tone. Blackwell knows just what to play – and what not to play – to control the emotional impact without distracting from the vocals. Although he’s playing an acoustic guitar, his technique so influenced later electric blues guitarists that the record sounds years ahead of its time.

~ You may also like: Leroy Carr and Scrapper Blackwell, “Hurry Down Sunshine” (Vocalion 2741, 1934)

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1935 Headlines … Great Depression continues … Adolf Hitler announces German rearmament in violation of the Versailles Treaty … Board game Monopoly released … Construction completed on Hoover Dam
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Leroy Carr & Scrapper Blackwell
“When the Sun Goes Down” (Bluebird B-5877, 1935)

This record is Leroy Carr’s finest moment. As gloomy as his delivery was in “Blue Before Sunrise” the year prior, here his vocals and piano playing soar. Scrapper Blackwell provides his usual excellent, jazzy accompaniment on guitar, but this song is Carr’s showcase. His fingers bounce joyously across the piano and his voice proves a willing dance partner, belying the bittersweet subject matter: “In the evening, in the evening, mama, when the sun goes down / In the evening, baby, when the sun goes down / Well, ain’t it lonesome, ain’t it lonesome, babe, when your lover’s not around / When the sun goes down.”

Carr’s animated delivery works well with the song’s structure, especially when he repeats the line “When the sun goes down” at the end of every verse. The next-to-last verse has no lyrics, just Carr humming and playing, and it elevates the song to a new level. That happiness cannot be denied in the final verse, which ends on a hopeful note: “Goodbye old sweethearts and pals, yes, I’m going away / But I may be back to see you again some old rainy day / Well, in the evening, in the evening, babe, when the sun goes down / When the sun goes down.”

Unfortunately, Carr’s finest moment would prove to be his last. He died suddenly at age 30 in April 1935, the same month this record was released.

~ You may also like: Leroy Carr and Scrapper Blackwell, “Midnight Hour Blues” (Vocalion 02741, 1934)

Sleepy John Estes
“Drop Down Mama” (Champion 50048, 1935)

“Drop Down Mama” is another amazing example of Sleepy John Estes’ “crying” blues style. Estes plays solid rhythm guitar while Hammie Nixon takes lead on harmonica, but the real focus of the song is on the weary, tortured vocals: “Now drop down, baby, let your daddy be / I know just what you’re trying to put on me.” Estes’ voice creaks and moans throughout, and he stretches out the last word of every line, teasing out every last ounce of feeling.

~ You may also like: Sleepy John Estes, “Someday Baby Blues” (Decca 7279, 1937)

Joe Williams’ Washboard Blues Singers
“Baby Please Don’t Go” (Bluebird B-6200, 1935)

Big Joe Williams (not to be confused with the Joe Williams who would sing with Count Basie’s band) was a Delta blues musician who developed a unique style all his own. “Baby Please Don’t Go” is his best-known composition and has become a blues standard. The original 1935 recording of it is as distinct as it is riveting. In addition to Williams’ own heavily modified nine-string guitar, this record features washboard and a single-string fiddle (played by Chasey Collins) that combine to create a spare, uncanny sound. Williams alternates freely between rhythm and lead with his hybrid guitar, which sometimes sounds like a six-string and sometimes like a twelve. Meanwhile, the eerie fiddle floats above carrying the main melody, and the washboard obliviously tap-tap-taps the song along. The extra instruments add a poignant depth to Williams’ straight-from-the-soul Delta blues singing: “Now baby please don’t go down to New Orleans / You know I love you so.”

~ You may also like: Big Joe Williams, “Peach Orchard Mama” (Bluebird B-8774, 1941)

Amédé Ardoin & Dennis McGee
“Les Blues de Voyage” (Bluebird B-2189, 1935)

Accordionist and singer Amédé Ardoin was the first Louisiana Creole musician to be recorded, and was a big influence on all of the Creole and Cajun music that would follow. The Creoles were related to the Cajuns, but had mixed French, African American and Native American ancestry, rather than descending strictly from the white French Acadians. Like their ancestry, Creole music (known at the time as “la-la”) was a blend, taking Cajun instruments and song structure as its base and adding new rhythms and bluesy vocals. This music would eventually evolve into what is now known as zydeco.

Beginning in 1929, Ardoin frequently collaborated with white Cajun fiddler Dennis McGee, making them one of the first openly interracial acts. The combination proved a powerful one, as demonstrated by “Les Blues de Voyage” (“Travel Blues”). Accordion and fiddle play so well off of each other that at times it is hard to tell where one ends and the other begins. Ardoin half-sings, half-cries out the French lyrics, his high, resonating voice expressing a passion that needs no translation.

~ You may also like: Amédé Ardoin and Denus McGee, “The Midland Two Step” (Decca 17003, 1935)

The Carter Family
“Can the Circle Be Unbroken? (Bye and Bye)” (Melotone 13432, 1935)

“Can The Circle Be Unbroken?” had been performed earlier by the Carter Family, but never released as a record. Their 1935 recording, however, finally gave the song its due. Re-worked by A.P. Carter from a popular hymn titled “Will the Circle Be Unbroken?” it would go on to become a country standard. (Many subsequent recordings have used the hymn’s original title.) Told from the point of view of someone whose mother has just died, the song captures the grief of the situation: “Undertaker, please drive slow / For this body you are hauling / Lord, I hate to see her go.” However, it also expresses hope for a heavenly afterlife in the chorus: “Can the circle be unbroken / Bye and bye, Lord, bye and bye / There’s a better home awaiting / In the sky, Lord, in the sky.”

As always, Sara’s weary-yet-strong vocals are top-notch, and A.P. and Maybelle do a fine job on harmony during the catchy chorus. It is Maybelle’s guitar work, though, that stands out the most in this performance. After a hesitating, slow start, her playing begins to gain speed and confidence. By the end of the first chorus, the guitar has taken control of the melody and assertively drives the song forward.

~ You may also like: The Carter Family, “Will You Miss Me When I’m Gone?” (Victor 21638, 1928)

Showing Off (1934)

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There is quite a bit of stylistic variety in the tracks that follow – yodeling cowboys, rowdy fiddle-and-banjo, otherworldly Hawaiian steel guitar, well-coordinated orchestra, sentimental singing – but they all have one thing in common. These artists were at the top of their game and used these recordings to prove it.

Glen Gray and the Casa Loma Orchestra
“Blue Moon” (Decca 312, 1934)

“Blue Moon” has been covered many times throughout the years, most famously by the Marcels in 1961. The original 1934 recording by the Casa Loma Orchestra may beat them all, though. For a song so familiar, it is amazing how much this recording continues to delightfully surprise. The combination of Kenny Sargent’s measured, melancholy vocals and the orchestra’s spot-on accompaniment is out of this world. From Glen Gray’s airy baritone sax to the bouncing rhythm section to Pee Wee Hunt’s dreamy trombone, every detail is perfect.

~ You may also like: Glen Gray and the Casa Loma Orchestra, “Smoke Rings” (Brunswick 6289, 1932)

The Sons of the Pioneers
“Way Out There” (Decca 5013, 1934)

By the mid-1930s, nostalgia for United States’ frontier days had reached a boiling point, resulting in a slew of Western-themed Hollywood movies. These movies romanticized the Old West and the lives of early settlers and cowboys, many of them featuring humor and music. In short order, a whole new style of “singing cowboy” music emerged, giving a the simple singing style of the original settlers a highly polished pop makeover. The Sons of the Pioneers were one of the style’s first and most successful artists, and “Way Out There” was one of their earliest hits. The song tells the story of a man who sneaks a free ride on a train, only to find himself kicked off the train “way out there.” In layered harmony, the singers conjure endearingly lonesome images of the unpopulated desert plain. The record is paced by a fast, bouncing guitar that conjures the clickety-clack of the train on the tracks. Some wonderfully harmonic yodeling in the chorus invokes a harsh train whistle at first, then softens and quickly turns lullaby-sweet.

~ You may also like: Jimmie Rodgers, “Any Old Time” (Victor 22488, 1930)

The Prairie Ramblers
“Shady Grove My Darling” (Bluebird B-5322, 1934)

They may have changed their name from the Kentucky Ramblers to the Prairie Ramblers to capitalize on the country’s Western craze, but with “Shady Grove” this incredibly versatile group proudly and ably displayed their Appalachian string band roots. Their fast ensemble playing may not have quite been bluegrass, but the seeds of that later style are certainly present in this raucous, entertaining romp. Multi-part harmony alternates with rapid banjo picking, fiddling and whoops of genuine joy: “Wooo-ha-ha! Come on boys!” That energy is infectious, and listening to this record you’ll be hard pressed not to whoop along.

~ You may also like some more energetic Kentucky fiddling: Ted Gossett’s String Band, “Eighth of January” (Champion 16160, 1930)

Sol Hoopii and His Novelty Quartet
“Hula Girl” (Brunswick 6768, 1934)

No one did more to popularize the Hawaiian steel guitar than virtuoso Sol Hoopii (pronounced “Ho-oh-pee-ee”). After honing his skills in his native Hawaii, Hoopii relocated to California in the 1920s. He soon found a very receptive public and by the mid-1930s he was making what are now considered his greatest recordings. “Hula Girl” is perhaps the best example of his genius. Although the steel guitar, ukulele and subject matter clearly mark the record as Hawaiian, those elements are actually little more than novelty layered over a jazzy little pop song. Indeed, Hoopii takes the steel guitar far beyond what most people would think of as Hawaiian music, soloing with all the creativity and dexterity of a master jazz musician. As rapidly as he picks the guitar, he still manages to use the slide continuously and expertly, adding an unpredictable and exotic dimension to his playing. For those used to hearing slide guitar in the more reserved setting of blues or country music, it is eye-opening to hear it played this way. With the ukulele providing a steady beat, Hoopii creates a dazzling array of sounds, rapidly careening from zany to dreamy and back again. His sense of timing is impeccable, and the entire performance is highly entertaining.

~ You may also like: Sol Hoopii and His Novelty Quartet, “I Like You” (Brunswick 6787, 1934)

Chick Webb’s Savoy Orchestra
“Stompin’ at the Savoy” (Columbia 2926-D, 1934)

From looking at William Henry “Chick” Webb, one would hardly believe he’d have the stamina to be a drummer, let alone one of the best of his generation. Despite short stature (he was under five feet tall), a hunchback and chronic health problems caused by tuberculosis of the spine, he and his orchestra managed to make the biggest, most robust swing music of their time. Listen to “Stomping at the Savoy” and you’ll have no doubt why this band consistently won the Savoy Ballroom’s “Battle of the Bands” contest to claim the title of best band in New York. Right from the beginning, the group sounds incredibly tight. The bouncing bass keeps rhythm while the horn section and tenor sax engage in a playful exchange. The music is incredibly well choreographed, but never predictable: it retains a sense of whimsy and a swinging beat throughout. The middle section of the song is simply tremendous: an irresistible dialogue between the Sandy Williams on trombone and Elmer Williams on tenor sax is followed by one between Taft Jordan on trumpet and Edgar Sampson on alto sax.

In the background, Webb’s well-timed drums are ever present. They begin tame enough, but increase in volume throughout the song. At the end of that magnificent middle solo section, Webb keeps the record moving along through sheer force of will, summoning the full band back into action as he pounds the drums with incredible ferocity. From there until the end of the song, the band does all it can to keep up with Webb. He briefly cedes the floor to the tenor sax, then returns with even more energy, propelling the song to its conclusion.

~ You may also like: Chick Webb and His Orchestra, “Blue Lou” (Decca 1065, 1936)

Fats Waller and His Rhythm
“Honeysuckle Rose” (Victor 24826, 1934)

As incredible as his piano playing was, Waller’s true legacy lies in his remarkable songwriting. “Honeysuckle Rose” is his most beloved composition and has become a giant among jazz standards. Waller’s original recording remains hard to beat, though. It starts with some of Waller’s dazzling yet seemingly effortless piano playing, of course, but the vocals soon become the focal point. Waller often took a comical approach to singing, but only a touch of that comes through here as he keeps things mostly on the sweet side: “When I’m taking sips / from your tasty lips / the honey fairly drips.” Waller is backed up by a small group that adds just the right touches, and the end result is just delightful. After the first verse, the band plays a lovely interlude where Waller’s sweet piano is accompanied by a repeated trumpet theme. When Waller returns to singing after the bridge, the energy level of the record has risen to joyous levels and the charming main melody returns with a full, exuberant sound that is hard to resist.

~ You may also like a great group recording of this same song, featuring Waller on piano, Bunny Berigan on trumpet, Tommy Dorsey on trombone, Dick McDonough on guitar and George “Georgia” Wettling on drums: A Jam Session at Victor, “Honeysuckle Rose” (Victor 25559, 1937)

Baby, Don’t You Wanna Go (1934)

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While a smoother, urban sensibility was emerging, rural blues was far from dead. In fact, some of the best and most successful country blues was still to be made, starting with an absolute classic in Kokomo Arnold’s “Milk Cow Blues.”

Kokomo Arnold
“Milk Cow Blues” (Decca 7026, 1934)

Kokomo Arnold
“Old Original Kokomo Blues” (Decca 7026, 1934)

From 1934 to 1938, James “Kokomo” Arnold recorded 88 sides for Decca, and his distinct voice and commanding slide guitar made him one of the most successful and influential blues artists of the decade. His first Decca single – pairing “Milk Cow Blues” and “Old Original Kokomo Blues” – provides the finest example of his work.

His guitar sounds fresh and lively on “Milk Cow Blues,” expertly walking the line between unpredictable and inviting. The finger work creates a riveting backdrop for the vocals and serves as a second, equally powerful voice. But as good as the guitar is, it is Arnold’s true voice that makes this song essential. It is one of the smoothest, most confident, most dynamic voices in blues, and it is not hard to see why he was one of the few blues artists to record regularly during the height of the Great Depression.

The high point of the record may be during the following passage: “Now you can read out your hymn book, preach out your Bible / Fall down on your knees and pray Dear good Lord will help you / ‘Cause you gonna need, you gonna need my help some day / Mama if you can’t quit your sinnin’, please quit your lowdown ways.” In the beginning of this stretch, Arnold’s voice is rich and mellow and drips character at every turn. The first time he sings, “You gonna need,” his voice jumps up to tease us for a moment with a low falsetto. The second time he sings it, he really lets loose and his voice soars even higher for brilliant emphasis. It is a remarkable moment in a song full of remarkable moments.

~ You may also like: Kokomo Arnold, “Back Door Blues” (Decca 7156, 1934)

On the flip side, “Old Original Kokomo Blues” is nearly as good. This is the song that introduced the phrase “Baby, don’t you wanna go,” and Robert Johnson later reworked it into “Sweet Home Chicago.” It also gave Arnold the name he would perform under for the rest of his career. (Kokomo was at the time a brand of coffee.) Arnold’s guitar work is faster and more aggressive here, and his vocals are biting each time he hits the refrain. With clever lyrics and Arnold’s outstanding delivery, it is easy to see why it proved so influential to Robert Johnson and others. I challenge anyone to listen to it without singing along: “Baby, don’t you wanna go!”

~ You may also like: Kokomo Arnold, “Policy Wheel Blues” (Decca 7147, 1935)

Charley Patton
“Poor Me” (Vocalion 02651, 1934)

“Poor Me” is one of a handful of records that Patton recorded for the Vocalion label toward the end of his life. The sound quality is thankfully much improved from his earlier work on Paramount, giving us our best glimpse of the full power of his unique voice. Here that voice sounds even more weathered and scratchy than normal, infused with a weariness that goes beyond the song’s bleak subject matter. Patton’s health was failing when he recorded this song at the beginning of 1934. He would pass away in April of that year, and the full weight of his impending mortality resonates in every syllable. He manipulates the slow tempo skillfully, dragging key notes and syllables out for maximum impact. His guitar work is subdued but brilliant as ever, and his tortured vocals are absolutely haunting. It is a fitting eulogy for the man who both defined and transcended the Delta blues style.

~ You may also like: Charley Patton, “High Sheriff Blues” (Vocalion 02680, 1934)

Memphis Minnie
“Moaning the Blues” (Decca 7037, 1934)

This record is a great example of why Memphis Minnie is remembered as “Queen of the Blues.” She had moved from Memphis to Chicago at this point, and her style is much more direct and confident than her earlier duets with Kansas Joe. Her powerful voice is cutting in its urgency, yet still soft and vulnerable around the edges. Each line starts off from the gut at full volume, but mellows in the middle and quickly fades to a tremble on the last syllable. At the end of the record, she “sings” an entire verse with no words: just a low, sustained moan punctuated by some excellent guitar work. It is an impressive vocal feat, its restraint making it that much more intimate.

~ You may also like: Furry Lewis, “Falling Down Blues” (Vocalion 1133, 1927)

New Blues (1933-1934)

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The following songs show the blues evolving, becoming smoother and tighter – more like the blues modern listeners are used to. This is still strictly acoustic material, but the roots of modern electric blues are firmly in place.

Joshua White
“Jesus Gonna Make Up My Dyin’ Bed” (Perfect 0258, 1933)

Josh White was a versatile performer who was equally at home playing blues, folk and gospel music. Because of this versatility and because he spent the latter part of his career as a folk revival singer, he sometimes gets overlooked as a blues musician. That is a shame, as his blues musicianship was the equal of any of his contemporaries.

“Jesus Gonna Make Up My Dyin’ Bed” is a gospel blues classic (and, incidentally, the original inspiration behind Led Zeppelin’s “In My Time of Dying”). The record is almost too easy to listen to: White’s pleasant voice and smooth, effortless slide guitar are almost soothing, and the lyrics are simple and straightforward. But listen to it again! Yes, that slide guitar is polished, but it is also as passionate as any Delta bluesman. White’s playing may be wine instead of whiskey, but it is no less intoxicating. His technique during the bridge is particularly impressive, as he snaps out a series of compelling, deep notes.

The same can be said of his singing voice: easygoing, yes, but also expressive. Listen as he sings: “In the time of dying, I don’t want nobody to moan / All I want my friends to do: come and fold my dying arms.” The subject matter is bittersweet, and his tone mirrors it: simultaneously buoyant and reflective. It is an amazing performance, and it’s no wonder that it was able to inspire artists like Led Zeppelin so many years later.

~ You may also like a more traditional blues song with White’s unmistakable touch: Joshua White, “Blood Red River” (Perfect 0257, 1933)

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1934 Headlines … Great Depression continues … More “Dust Bowl” storms in Great Plains … Apollo Theater opens in Harlem, New York City … Adolph Hitler becomes Führer, completes rise to power in Germany
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Big Bill Broonzy
“Mississippi River Blues” (Bluebird B-5535, 1934)

While growing up in the Mississippi Delta region, Big Bill Broonzy’s first instrument was the fiddle, but he switched to guitar when he moved to Chicago in 1920. He struggled to find success as a recording artist until 1934 when he signed with Bluebird Records and his many years of effort finally paid off. The records he made with Bluebird would help define a new style of urban blues that would set the tone for all blues to come, and Broonzy himself would go on to have a long, well-respected career.

In “Mississippi River Blues,” we can see all of the elements coming together. Pianist “Black Bob” Call provides a steady, walking beat and the occasional flourish, but it is Broonzy’s voice and guitar that make the record sound so fresh. Although the song progresses at an easy pace, Broonzy’s guitar is quick, crisp and loud. His percussive, staccato playing style fills the song with energy, neatly predicting the rise of rhythm and blues in the 1940s and rock and roll in the 1950s. Broonzy marries his kinetic playing to confident yet intimate vocals. His down-home Delta voice is magnificent: equal parts character, power and restraint. Notice the way each line starts small, swells in the middle and then steps down measurably again at the end. The song tells the story of a man trying in vain to find a way to cross the imposing river: “Mississippi River is so long, deep and wide / I can see my good girl standin’ on that other side.” As Broonzy sings the final word of that first verse, his big voice softens and cracks. By the time the song ends, he convincingly sings, “Lord, I’m gonna get me a good girl or jump over board and drown.”

~ You may also like: Big Bill Broonzy, “Long Tall Mama” (Banner 33085, 1934)

Something Different (1933)

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Despite an overall slowdown in the recording industry, musicians continued to innovate and some of that creative output managed to find its way onto record. Whether a bluesy new kind of big band jazz from Kansas City or exotic steel guitar from Hawaii, recorded music continued to grow in leaps and bounds.

Bennie Moten’s Kansas City Orchestra
“Moten Swing” (Victor 23384, 1933)

Bennie Moten was the top bandleader in Kansas City and “Moten Swing” was his signature tune. This recording from December 1932 displays a big band swing sound as fully realized as if it had been recorded a decade later. Moten himself does not play on this recording, leaving the piano to a rising star in his band, William “Count” Basie. Basie starts the song with a simple but swinging introduction, and he demonstrates an uncanny sense of musicianship throughout as he provides prominent, though spare, accompaniment that perfectly accents the orchestra and soloists. The rhythm section, led by former Blue Devils bandleader Walter Page on bass, is simply phenomenal, creating a propulsive rhythm that is impossible not to dance to. The soloists are also quite good, including Eddie Barefield on alto sax, Ben Webster on tenor and Oran “Hot Lips” Page on trumpet. Sadly, Moten would die in 1935, just as the big band era was beginning, but the Kansas City jazz sound he helped pioneer would live on through the alumni of this incredible orchestra.

~ You may also like: Bennie Moten’s Kansas City Orchestra, “Prince of Wails” (Victor 23393, 1933)

Art Tatum
“Tiger Rag” (Brunswick 6543, 1933)

Art Tatum is widely considered to be the greatest jazz pianist and one of the most technically gifted soloists of all time. Listening to “Tiger Rag,” it is hard not to be overwhelmed by the dazzling speed and complexity. Tatum’s improvisational flourishes seem to know no bounds as he makes use of the entire keyboard to unleash a succession of notes more intense than anyone had previously dreamed of. And yet, even more amazingly, the piece never seems out of control. The song’s original melody is still recognizable beneath the impressive ornamentation, and despite the impossible pace, Tatum executes with an exacting precision.

A case in point: with just under a minute to go in the song, Tatum is playing a complex back-and-forth melody and his right hand starts racing up the keyboard. He surprises the listener by not stopping where one would expect, but continuing to the highest keys. He then reverses and heads back down at the same breakneck tempo. This is impressive so far if only for its speed, but then something magical happens: he stops hitting every key and makes it sound as if his fingers have tripped, their momentum carrying them, bouncing, the rest of the way until they “regain their feet” and run headfirst into the next complex passage. The whole breathtaking exchange takes less than 10 seconds, and can be quickly overlooked in the rush, but if your brain can keep up, these little details are marvelous to witness.

~ You may also like: Art Tatum, “Begin the Beguine” (Decca 8502, 1940)

Ted Weems and His Orchestra
“Heartaches” (Bluebird 5131, 1933)

Ted Weems was a popular bandleader who scored a number of novelty hits beginning in the 1920s. “Heartaches” was originally issued in 1933, but it did not become a hit until it was reissued 14 years later (RCA Victor 20-2175). Its recognition in 1947 was long overdue, as it is an incredibly enjoyable listen. The record is built on a hyperactive, almost polyrhythmic drum beat, over which a rapid succession of novel instruments repeat the main melody (including some fine whistling at one point by Elmo Tanner). Finally, the rhythm drops away and the orchestra holds the last few notes together to bring the melody to a sweet, almost nostalgic end – punctuated by a final cymbal crash at the end.

Note that Weems and his band recorded this song in 1938 as well (first released as Decca 25017 in 1947). That version is a bit slower, but still quite enjoyable, with some more great whistling by Tanner. However, the Bluebird/Victor version remains the definitive one.

~ You may also like: Luis Russell and His Orchestra, “Saratoga Shout” (Okeh 8780, 1930)

Kanui and Lula
“My Little Grass Shack in Kealakekua, Hawaii” (Parlophone R-1957, 1933)

The development of Hawaiian music is a microcosm of American music in general: a multicultural blend that yielded something unique and unexpectedly wonderful. Traditional island chants were first augmented by stringed instruments (guitar and ukulele) and new singing styles introduced by Mexican, Portuguese and other immigrants in the early 19th Century. As the island nation came under the influence of the U.S., elements of American popular music and jazz were also incorporated. On top of this rich mix, Hawaiians added their own innovations. The most significant of these was the invention of “steel guitar,” where the guitar is played horizontally in the lap while a metal bar (“steel”) or other object is slid along the strings to change the pitch – a technique that soon became a staple of American country music and strongly influenced the “bottleneck” slide guitar style frequently used by blues musicians (the primary difference being that bottleneck guitar is played in the standard position rather than horizontally).

Hawaiian steel guitar is on strong display in “My Little Grass Shack in Kealakekua, Hawaii” by husband and wife duo Kanui and Lula. The native Hawaiians recorded this and a handful of other tracks for the European Parlophone label while living abroad in Paris in 1933. Bill Kanui’s lead vocals – sung in both English and Hawaiian – are powerful and pleasantly entertaining, and Lula’s island chant backing vocals give the song a delightful hint of the exotic. What really makes this rare recording essential, though, is Bill’s magnificent guitar work. He uses the steel liberally, creating an ethereal, shimmering sound that is in constant motion, never quite in tune, and yet remains as lullaby soft as an island breeze.

~ You may also like a song that topped the pop charts in Australia in 2001 after being used in a cell phone commercial there: Kanui and Lula, “Oua, Oua” (Parlophone R-1614, 1933)

Shades of Sentimental (1932-1933)

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The more the Great Depression weighed on everyone’s minds, the more people’s tastes turned to light-hearted, sentimental music that could lift their spirits. In this, the greatest artists of the era did not disappoint.

Louis Armstrong and His Orchestra
“All of Me” (Columbia 2606-D, 1932)

Armstrong’s rendition of “All of Me” was one of the top hits of 1932 and remains one of the best interpretations of this standard. It is a lovely song with bittersweet lyrics of unrequited love: “You took the part that once was my heart / Oh, why not take all of me?” The words occasionally get muddled as Armstrong twists them into a mumble, but musically the effect of this is sublime and the emotional weight of the lyrics is undiminished. Likewise, Armstrong’s trumpet playing is mostly subdued but still striking. Subtly informed by Armstrong’s genius jazz instincts, this pop gem becomes utterly irresistible.

~ You may also like: Louis Armstrong and His Orchestra, “I Gotta Right to Sing the Blues” (Victor 24233, 1933)

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1933 Headlines … Worst year of Great Depression … “Dust Bowl” storms … Franklin D. Roosevelt inaugurated as 32nd U.S. President … “New Deal” recovery measures enacted … Prohibition repealed in the U.S.
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Ethel Waters
“Stormy Weather” (Brunswick 6564, 1933)

Compare “Stormy Weather” to Waters’ 1929 hit “Am I Blue?” and the difference is striking. Both display a talented vocalist with an instinct for showmanship, but the newer recording shows a maturity that the earlier one couldn’t begin to hint at. Where “Am I Blue?” showed Waters’ breadth, “Stormy Weather” shows her depth.

Waters’ singing is subtle throughout, yet amazingly rich and enticing. Like Louis Armstrong, she was in the process of transforming herself from jazz star to mainstream pop star, and she succeeds wonderfully here, using her musical instincts and talent to create something transcendent. She is helped by an understated but nimble orchestra that included future stars Bunny Berigan on trumpet, Jimmy Dorsey on clarinet, and his brother Tommy Dorsey on trombone.

To be sure, Waters still understands how to put on a show, as witnessed by the dramatic bridge section that begins, “I walk around heavy hearted and sad,” and ends, “This misery is just too much for me!” However, she never sinks into melodramatic novelty or vaudeville, managing to entertain and even dazzle while still conveying emotional depth. The overall effect is mesmerizing: this is a song you can listen to over and over and never grow tired of.

~ You may also like: Ethel Waters, “I Got Rhythm” (Columbia 2346-D, 1933)

Bing Crosby
“You’re Getting to Be a Habit With Me” (Brunswick 6472, 1933)

This delightful record was a big hit for Crosby in 1933, but is often overlooked in light of the even bigger hits he would soon have. It deserves to be noticed, though. Guy Lombardo and His Royal Canadians provide a wonderfully sweet accompaniment that would almost justify this song’s place in history even without Crosby’s smooth vocals. Crosby’s voice is the main attraction, of course, pulling the listener in with every expressive note. And the lyrics he sings are simply brilliant: “I just can’t break away, I must have you every day / As regularly as coffee or tea / You’ve got me in your clutches and I can’t get free / You’re getting to be a habit with me.”

~ You may also like: Bing Crosby, “June in January” (Decca 310, 1934)

Duke Ellington and His Orchestra
“Sophisticated Lady” (Brunswick 6600, 1933)

This instrumental is probably the sweetest composition Ellington ever penned and borders on being overly sentimental. After a brief, discordant introduction by Duke on piano, it mellows into a dreamy melody over a steady, banjo-driven beat. The music is so sweet it at times borders saccharine as the soloists engage in a fair amount of over-the-top affectations, including an over-abundance of vibrato. (Near the end, Otto Hardwick’s alto sax warbles so much it almost sounds like he’s imitating bird calls.) However, the level of musicianship is high, and Ellington and company manage to walk up to the edge of that cliff without falling off. “Sophisticated” may or may not be the right word for this recording, but it certainly is easy on the ear and perfect for a nice, slow dance.

~ You may also like: Duke Ellington and His Famous Orchestra, “Prelude to a Kiss” (Brunswick m8204, 1938)

Shag & Swing (1932)

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The swing era would officially begin in 1935, but that didn’t stop Duke Ellington from recording killer swing music in 1932. Meanwhile, just as small-group New Orleans jazz had been left for dead, Sidney Bechet and company made what may be the greatest New Orleans jazz record in history.

The New Orleans Feetwarmers
“Shag” (Victor 24150, 1932)

New Orleans-born Sidney Bechet is widely regarded as the best clarinetist and soprano saxophone player of the early jazz period. He found some success working with groups like Clarence Williams’ Blue Five in the 1920s, and was well received in Europe in the later part of that decade. After getting into trouble in France, he was deported back to the United States where he formed the New Orleans Feetwarmers with veteran trumpeter Tommy Ladnier. The group only made a handful of recordings, which failed to catch on at the time as the traditional New Orleans style of jazz was falling out of favor. That’s a shame, since the recordings – “Shag” in particular – captured Bechet and Ladnier at their peaks and are some of the finest jazz ever recorded.

“Shag” is a joyously upbeat, kinetic record that wastes no time getting to the action. Whereas most jazz songs included a brief introduction of a main theme, “Shag” opens in full polyphony with Bechet, Ladnier and trombonist Teddy Nixon each pursuing separate but complementary melodies. Bechet in particular stands out with some amazing soprano sax playing that sets the tone for what is to come. The song settles down only slightly for some soloing by Ladnier on muted trumpet and Henry Duncan on piano, followed by some lively and wonderful scat singing by bass player Ernest Meyers.

It soon launches right back into a polyphonic frenzy, though, as Bechet leads the charge with some inspired playing. Actually, “inspired” doesn’t begin to capture it. His tone is so pure, his style so natural and relaxed, and his improvisation so thrilling that it defies imagination. You simply have to hear it (preferably over and over again!) to believe how good it is. With about a minute to go, the band falls in line with Bechet to play together on some held notes, punctuated by a sharp strike on the drums by Morris Morland. The effect is exhilarating, and after a few instances, the band starts shouting “Woo! Whee!” whenever it happens. You’ll want to do the same!

~ You may also like: The New Orleans Feetwarmers, “I Found a New Baby” (Victor 24150, 1932)

Duke Ellington and His Famous Orchestra
“It Don’t Mean a Thing (If It Ain’t Got That Swing)” (Brunswick 6265, 1932)

There is no consensus on exactly what the term “swing” means, and yet jazz musicians know it when they play it and fans know it when they hear it. At its core, “swing” is about having an innate sense of rhythm that allows a musician to play in a very relaxed, individual way that flows very naturally with the beat without necessarily sticking rigidly to it. Regardless of exactly how you define it, though, there are three milestones for the term. The first is Louis Armstrong’s work with the Fletcher Henderson Orchestra in 1924-25, which inspired a change in how jazz was viewed and placed the concept of “swing” firmly at the center of that experience. The last was 1935 when the music of Benny Goodman (the so-called “King of Swing”) and others rose in popularity to kick off the big band swing craze that would define American music for the next decade. In between is 1932, the year that an immortal classic with “swing” in its title cemented the term in the lexicon.

“It Don’t Mean a Thing (If It Ain’t Got That Swing)” was composed by Duke Ellington with lyrics by Irving Mills. The orchestra does indeed swing, especially Johnny Hodges on alto sax, whose flying solo fills the middle of the song, grounded by some down-to-earth punctuation by Joe “Tricky Sam” Nanton on trombone. However, it is vocalist Ivie Anderson that really steals the show. She kicks off the song with some cool, enticing scat singing (“wah-tah-too”), but soon opens the throttle wide. It is clear that she means what she sings: “It makes no difference if it’s sweet or hot / Just keep that rhythm, give it everything you got!”

~ You may also like: Duke Ellington and His Orchestra featuring Adelaide Hall, “The Blues I Love to Sing” (Victor 21490, 1928)

Scatting (1931-1932)

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With the Great Depression in full swing, the early 1930s was not a good time in general, but it turned out to be a great time for scatting – the practice of singing nonsense syllables (“skit-scat-scoo”) to the melody – as the following four selections demonstrate.

The Mills Brothers
“Tiger Rag” (Brunswick 6197, 1931)

The Mills Brothers – Donald, Harry, Herbert and John – were a singing group known for the novelty of creating realistic imitations of instruments with their voices. Try to remember as you listen to “Tiger Rag” that other than a single guitar, there are no instruments on this record. The trumpet you think you hear is Harry vocalizing through cupped hands. The tuba is John. And as if that weren’t impressive enough on its own, the brothers throw in some great harmonizing and rapid scat singing. Yes, it’s a novelty, but it is also great fun and genuinely good music. This record deservedly made the brothers stars.

~ You may also like the similar, over-the-top energy of the first-ever recorded version of this song: The Original Dixieland Jazz Band, “Tiger Rag” (Vocalion 1206, 1917)

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1932 Headlines … Great Depression continues; U.S. banking system collapses … Infant son of Charles Lindbergh is kidnapped, killed … Mahatma Gandhi: 21-day hunger strike protests British oppression in India
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Bing Crosby with the Mills Brothers
“Dinah” (Brunswick 6240, 1932)

Harry “Bing” Crosby began his recording career in the late 1920s singing with Paul Whiteman’s orchestra and with a small vocal group called the Rhythm Boys, but as the 1930s began, Crosby became a star in his own right and went on to become the biggest selling artist of the pre-rock and roll era. His 1942 classic “White Christmas” (Decca 18429) is the best-selling song of all time, with over 100 million in sales, and remains a popular holiday classic to this day. Crosby’s smooth, baritone voice and intuitive, easy-going sense of timing proved irresistible and virtually defined the “crooner” style of singing that would dominate the era. These early singles capture Crosby at the start of his rise to fame and wonderfully display his talent.

“Dinah” begins with Crosby’s rich voice slowly flowing like honey over a relaxed jazz accompaniment, as he delivers the top-notch lyrics: “Every night, why do I shake with fright? / Because my Dinah might change her mind about me.” After the first verse, The Mille Brothers take over, and from that point on the instrumentation is a mix of real instruments and their unique vocalizations. The Mills Brothers repeat the first verse at a much faster tempo, then briefly begin scatting. It is at this point that Crosby rejoins them, and shows that he can play at that speed as well. He quickly takes over the scatting and does an amazing job, casting out the nonsensical syllables with a verbal dexterity that his previous laid-back delivery could not begin to hint at. The energy and sense of fun never let up as Crosby and the Mills Brothers continue to play off each other for the rest of the song.

~ You may also like: Bing Crosby with the Mills Brothers, “Shine” (Brunswick 6276, 1932)

Bing Crosby
“Sweet Georgia Brown” (Brunswick 6320, 1932)

“Sweet Georgia Brown” is one of the most popular songs in history and has been recorded by many artists, including the chart-topping original version by Ben Bernie and His Orchestra in 1925 (Vocalion 15002), and Ethel Waters’ famous interpretation (Columbia 379-D) that same year. Bing Crosby had a solid #2 hit with it in 1932, but it was not his biggest hit that year (that would be the melodramatic, depression-era ballad “Brother, Can You Spare A Dime?”), so it often gets overlooked in his cannon. However, Crosby’s collaboration with Isham Jones and His Orchestra is to my ears the best of the early pop versions of the song, and the perfect encapsulation of the song’s freewheeling energy. Crosby gives an incredible vocal performance that is simultaneously smooth and daring. Known for his pure, rich baritone voice, he nevertheless refuses to play it safe here, instead taking chances with his tone, timing and phrasing to really make the song swing. Listen to his voice on the section where he scats after the bridge, and you’ll notice that his voice cracks just a little as he sings a barrage of notes that are all over the chart. But this only serves to heighten the excitement and make the verse even more compelling. Jones’ orchestra, known as one of the top big bands of the day, is in top form here, executing flawlessly with a warm, enthusiastic sound that perfectly complements Crosby.

~ You may also like one of Crosby’s earliest hits: Paul Whiteman and His Orchestra featuring the Rhythm Boys, “I’m Coming Virginia” (Victor 20751, 1927)

The Boswell Sisters
“Everybody Loves My Baby” (Brunswick 6271, 1932)

Raised in New Orleans, Connie (later “Connee”) Boswell had tremendous jazz sensibilities and a knack for rearranging popular songs. By tinkering with the melodies, harmonies and rhythms, she was able to create works both familiar and unexpected. Together with her sisters Martha and Helvetica (“Vet”), she made a number of ingenious, groundbreaking recordings that redefined what vocal groups were capable of. The sisters quickly became known for their versatility, tight harmonies and amazing vocal gymnastics.

“Everybody Loves My Baby” is a great example of their talents. The song begins in a minor key with the sisters singing some new lyrics that don’t appear in the original version of the song. Next, the familiar song begins with Connie’s lovely voice singing the first verse in a relaxed, swinging style that eases smoothly into some sweet scatting. As soon as she finishes, the music speeds up suddenly and all three sisters begin singing the lyrics incredibly fast – and with a bunch of extra nonsense sounds squeezed into the words! Next follows a section of uvular nonsense sounds (“nguh-wuh-nguh”), and then some more fast singing. The record slows down briefly for the jazzy instrumental bridge, then it speeds up as the sisters return to sing the verse again, employing a wide variety of sounds and singing styles as they race for the finish line. It is a dizzying but thrilling experience.

~ You may also like: The Boswell Sisters, “The Object of My Affection” (Brunswick 7348, 1935)

String Band Sophistication (1931)

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Part of the charm of early string band recordings is their amateur nature. Many of the acts were not full-time musicians and paused their normal lives as farmers, miners and housewives just long enough to earn a few dollars recording a few songs they knew. Music was a pastime for them, not a lifestyle – but that is not meant as a criticism, for many were quite good and the passion and individuality they displayed more than compensated for the occasional missed or off-key note. Somewhere along the line, though, rural audiences developed a taste for more polished music, like that performed by Jimmie Rodgers and his imitators, and that old-time style of string band music started to lose popularity. It would not fade away completely, but it would definitely evolve to meet the public’s changing taste. The next two recordings happened at that juncture, signaling a last gasp for the traditional while offering a glimpse at what lie ahead.

Crockett’s Kentucky Mountaineers
“Little Rabbit / Rabbit Where's Your Mammy?” (Crown 3172, 1931)

Although their origin was similar to other Kentucky family string bands, John “Dad” Crockett and his children were able to find success as professional musicians after moving to California. Their experience working in both radio and vaudeville helped them refine their sound and expand their repertoire beyond traditional Kentucky mountain music. Nowhere is that more apparent than their classic record “Little Rabbit,” recorded in New York City for Crown Records. This tune may be straight from the mountains, but the execution shows a level of sophistication not often heard in such music. The playing is flawless, with the kind of tight interaction between fiddle and banjo that comes from being intuitively in sync. Although it is not bluegrass, it certainly provides some foreshadowing and shows that fast-paced Kentucky string band music was ready to evolve to that next stage. The inclusion of Jew’s harp in some sections of the song is a fun and entertaining touch and a welcome addition to the usual string band instruments.

~ You may also like the Kentucky fiddling of Andy Palmer: Jimmie Johnson’s String Band, “Shipping Port” (Champion 16559, 1932)

East Texas Serenaders
“Mineola Rag” (Brunswick 562, 1931)

On its surface, “Mineola Rag” is an uptempo ragtime played expertly by a four-piece string band, but a closer listen reveals a surprising amount more depth. In music-rich Texas, the quartet was surrounded by a variety of styles, and they clearly adopted some of those influences. Left-handed fiddler D.H. Williams plays with speed and precision, but with a mellow, bluesy tone rather than a sharp attack. Henry Bogan played staccato notes on a three-string cello, in a style that at times perfectly imitated the jug in a jug band. And the rhythm section of Cloet Hammond on guitar and John Munnerlyn on banjo moved together like clockwork, reminiscent of swinging jazz. In fact, that prominent rhythm section and the overall interplay of these instruments would be influential in the development of a new style that would soon dominate country music in the southwest: western swing.

~ You may also like: East Texas Serenaders, “East Texas Drag” (Decca 5347, 1937)

Hi-De-Ho (1931)

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Whether the jive of Cab Calloway, the tight swing of Duke Ellington, or the re-interpreted pop songs of Louis Armstrong, big band music in 1931 was all about entertainment. Fortunately for us, these bandleaders were not just entertainers but exceptional artists, creating timeless works that we can still enjoy today.

Cab Calloway and His Orchestra

“Minnie the Moocher” (Brunswick 6074, 1931)

When Duke Ellington’s orchestra ended its tenure as the house band of New York’s famed Cotton Club, they were replaced by a group led by Cabell Calloway III, who would soon become one of the most popular and commercially successful bandleaders of his day. Calloway’s orchestra was talented (though perhaps not at the level of Ellington’s), but what really made them so successful was the innovative singing and oversized personality of their leader. Calloway pioneered what was known as “jive” music: bluesy lyrics filled with slang words and scat singing (“hi-de-hi-de-ho”) set to swinging big band jazz.

“Minnie the Moocher” is Calloway’s undeniable masterpiece and the song that rocketed him to stardom. To mainstream audiences, the song told a slightly shady sounding story filled with a lot of silly nonsense. In reality, a lot of that nonsense was slang terminology that concealed references to illicit drug use: for example, “kicking the gong around” was a slang term for smoking opium. Either way it is viewed, the song is incredibly entertaining. Against some solid, “jungle” style instrumentation, Calloway’s voice rises and falls expressively as he tells Minnie’s tale, and he gets help from the band on some incredible call-and-response scat singing.

~ You may also like: Cab Calloway and His Orchestra, “Reefer Man” (Brunswick 6340, 1932)

Cab Calloway and His Orchestra
“St. James Infirmary” (Brunswick 6105, 1931)

There are many excellent versions of “St. James Infirmary,” including a famous 1928 recording by Louis Armstrong, but this Cab Calloway record may be the best of all. The song relates the story of a man whose love has just died and is “stretched out on a long, white table” at St. James Infirmary. Given the morbid nature of the song, Calloway’s version is surprisingly upbeat. It starts with an exotic sounding trumpet introduction, which is followed some wonderfully expressive baritone sax playing. Then Calloway begins singing, and his timing and timbre are amazing; at times he sings very fast in a high register and his voice sounds remarkably like a muted trumpet. The song then ends on a high note with some more excellent, exotic trumpet playing.

~ You may also like: Cab Calloway and His Orchestra, “(Hep-Hep!) The Jumpin’ Jive” (Vocalion v5005, 1939)

Louis Armstrong and His Orchestra
“Star Dust” (take 1) (Okeh 41530, 1931)

(Note: multiple takes of this song were recorded on November 4, 1931 and at least two were released as Okeh 41530. The fourth take is very good, but the essential version is the less common, slightly longer first take, Okeh master W.405061-1. On it, Armstrong repeats “Oh, memory” three times at the end of the vocal.)

In the 1930s, Louis Armstrong ceased making the kind of ground-breaking, small-band records that had redefined jazz during the previous decade. Instead, he focused on making jazzy, big band versions of popular songs, such as Hoagy Carmichael’s immortal “Star Dust.” Although this decision made him a huge star, it continues to disappoint some jazz fans who consider the move a sell out. However, while his 1930s output is nowhere near as innovative as his ‘20s “Hot Five” records, looked at from another angle, it could be argued that Armstrong made the most compelling mainstream pop of the decade.

On “Star Dust,” his trumpet playing is strong as ever, with a tone that has matured like a fine wine into something utterly intoxicating. The band playing behind him may be unremarkable, but that trumpet is still unmatched. And Armstrong’s voice has similarly matured, the gruff edges blending smoothly into the sweet melody. Just listen to the sentimental way he repeats “Oh, memory / Oh, memory / Oh, memory” at the end. Simply amazing.

~ You may also like: Louis Armstrong and His Orchestra, “Lazy River” (Okeh 41541, 1932)

Glen Gray and the Casa Loma Orchestra
“Casa Loma Stomp” (Okeh 41492, 1931)

The Casa Loma Orchestra, a collective led by saxophonist Glen Gray, was one of the top big bands of its day and a major trendsetter in swing music. Although they are not as well remembered as some of the other top bands of the early swing period, records like “Casa Loma Stomp” prove that them deserving of respect. The complex arrangement by Gene Gifford is played with incredible poise and proficiency. That they make it sound so light and effortless only makes it that much more impressive. The entire record is fantastic, but pay special attention to two particularly good passages: the first solo (a fast-paced revelry by trombonist Pee Wee Hunt) and the quiet but kinetic call-and-response by the entire band before they launch into the big finish.

~ You may also like: Glen Gray and the Casa Loma Orchestra, “San Sue Strut” (Okeh 41403, 1930)

The Jungle Band
“Rockin’ in Rhythm” (Brunswick 6038, 1931)

This “Jungle Band” recording of Duke Ellington’s classic composition “Rockin’ in Rhythm” was one of two Ellington versions released in 1931, and to my ears is the definitive take on the song. (It should be noted that Okeh 8869, credited to the Harlem Footwarmers, is nearly as good, though.) The track begins with some discordant piano by Ellington, and a humorous wah-wah by the trombone. Next, the reeds state the wonderful, bright melody and Cootie Williams takes a playful, swinging solo on trumpet. The mood becomes a little edgier as Johnny Hodges soars in on alto sax . Then we get some more piano from Ellington, another trombone flourish, and some muted, jungle-style trumpet from Williams before the reeds regain control, restate the main melody and bring the record to a close. The recording is filled with high-spirited, feel-good energy throughout.

~ You may also like an incredible later recording of this song: Duke Ellington, “Medley: Kinda Dukish / Rockin’ in Rhythm” (Piano in the Background, Columbia CL 1546, 1960)

High Water (1930-1931)

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In many ways, the first two years of the decade were a high-water mark for country blues artists, as the following riveting performances show. As the Great Depression caused sales to drop, though, opportunities would soon dry up even for established artists like Charley Patton and Blind Willie Johnson. Other promising talents, like Son House and Skip James, would find their careers over before they had even begun.

Geeshie Wiley
“Last Kind Words Blues” (Paramount 12951, 1930)

Geeshie Wiley doesn’t fit any of the molds for 1920s and 1930s blues singers, but her unique style is so captivating perhaps more should have been cast like her. “Last Kind Words Blues” is her masterpiece, a slow, haunting blues that chronicles the final exchange between the narrator and her lover, who is headed to war. The ominous tone captures the narrator’s worry at the impending threat of loss: “If I get killed, if I get killed, please don't bury my soul / I cry just leave me out, let the buzzards eat me whole.”

Wiley’s delivery is reserved but far from mellow, as an almost manic anxiety lurks just below the surface. The guitarist, probably her frequent collaborator Elvie Thomas, is masterful on guitar, strumming a steady rhythm and adding some edgy, minor-key picking here and there to heighten the tension. Despite recording one of the most exciting blues records of her era, Wiley made very few additional records, and almost nothing is known of her.

~ You may also like: Geeshie Wiley, “Skinny Leg Blues” (Paramount 12951, 1930)

Kansas Joe & Memphis Minnie
“Bumble Bee” (Columbia 14542-D, 1930)

“Kansas” Joe McCoy may have equal billing here, but there is no doubt that his wife Lizzie Douglas, a.k.a. “Memphis Minnie,” was the star of the pair. After the couple split in 1935, Minnie continued to enjoy a respectable career for another two decades and is today considered one of the greatest female blues artists in history.

“Bumble Bee” was one of Minnie’s first hits and signified a shift toward the traditional “country blues” style for female artists. While her commanding voice is as powerful as earlier, vaudeville-inspired female blues singers, she plays a mean guitar and proves adept at singing relaxed, “Memphis style” blues. The gentle, twin guitar accompaniment ultimately proves more satisfying than any jazz instrumentation would have, putting her voice clearly in the foreground and allowing her a greater range of expression. Her playful change of tempo on the final verse sounds perfectly natural and ends the song on a high note.

~ You may also like: Frank Stokes, “How Long” (Victor V-38512 , 1929)

Blind Willie Johnson
“God Moves on the Water” (Columbia 14520-D, 1930)

“God Moves on the Water” is one of the most amazing slide guitar performance ever captured on record. It is a recounting of the sinking of the RMS Titanic in 1912, told with religious overtones: “God moves, God moves, God moves, ah, and the people had to run and pray.” Johnson’s guitar wails and sings with as much emotion as the man’s voice, creating a haunting performance. The brief bridge in the middle is particularly entrancing with its stark, deeply expressive slide playing. The bridge ends with a wonderful transition as Johnson gives a little moan and starts fingerpicking again.

~ You may also like: Blind Willie Johnson, “God Don’t Never Change” (Columbia 14490-D, 1930)

Blind Willie Johnson
“John the Revelator” (Columbia 14530-D, 1930)

“John the Revelator” is a powerful gospel blues that references the author of the Biblical Book of Revelation. Johnson, one of the most striking vocalists and musicians in blues history, gives an inspired performance. His rough voice repeatedly growls questions (“Who’s that writing?”), and a woman’s voice (most likely his wife Willie B. Harris) answers “John the Revelator” in a much softer voice that provides a clear contrast. Johnson’s passion comes through loud and clear, and despite the rawness of his voice, his singing is quite strong and the song quite exciting.

After the April 1930 session that produced “John the Revelator,” Johnson would never record again.

~ You may also like: Blind Willie Johnson, “Praise God I’m Satisfied” (Columbia 14545-D, 1930)

Charley Patton
“High Water Everywhere (Parts 1 & 2)” (Paramount 12909, 1930)

This song is one of Charley Patton’s best vocal performances. Covering two sides, it is an account of the utter devastation caused by the Great Mississippi Flood of 1927, one of the worst natural disasters in U.S. history. Patton gives an eye-witness account of what he saw traveling throughout the region: “Oh, Lordy, women and grown men drown / Oh, women and children sinkin' down / I couldn't see nobody's home and wasn't no one to be found.” Patton’s delivers these lyrics with utter conviction, reaching deep into his soul to convey powerful emotion with every line. In Part 1, his gravelly voice strains with a sense of urgency and desperation. In Part 2, he sounds more reserved and saddened. Both are equally heartbreaking.

~ You may also like: Charley Patton, “A Spoonful Blues” (Paramount 12869, 1929)

Son House
“Preachin’ the Blues (Parts 1 & 2)” (Paramount 13013, 1930)

Eddie “Son” House is one of the giants of the Delta blues. He had a unique style characterized by repeated signatures on guitar, over which he layered intense, shouted vocals. He recorded only a few sides in the 1930s and a couple more in the ‘40s, but they were enough to cement his legacy. Eventually, he was rediscovered during the folk revival and made some recordings late in his life that nearly matched the intensity of these early sides.

“Preachin’ the Blues (Parts 1 & 2)” is his masterpiece. It is an autobiographical account of House’s life, from his original intention to be a Baptist preacher (“Oh, I'm gonna get me a religion / I'm gonna join the Baptist Church / I'm gonna be a Baptist preacher, and I sure won't have to work”) to his eventual downfall to temptation (“Oh, I'd-a had religion, Lord, this very day / But the womens and whiskey, well, they would not set me free”). The record was cut for Paramount, with its notoriously poor sound quality, but despite the scratches and hissing, House’s voice comes through loud and strong. He sounds like a man possessed as he drives through this two-sided recording. House may not have made it as a Baptist preacher, but on this record, he clearly has the passion and commanding presence of one, singing: “I swear to God / I got to preach these gospel blues!”

~ You may also like: Son House, “My Black Mama (Parts 1 & 2)” (Paramount 13042, 1931)

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1931 Headlines … Great Depression continues … “The Star-Spangled Banner” is adopted as the U.S. national anthem … Gambling legalized in Nevada … Empire State Building completed in New York City
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Willie Brown
“Future Blues” (Paramount 13090, 1931)

Willie Brown is both one of the most influential Delta blues musicians and one of the most elusive. Very little is known for sure about the man, except that he was a renowned sideman, accompanying such greats as Charley Patton and Son House. Many music scholars believe that he was an uncredited guitarist on the records of many other artists as well. He was also a noteworthy vocalist, but only three of his known solo records have survived: two from a 1930 session and one more from 1941.

“Future Blues” is taken from that first session and was issued by Paramount in 1931. Brown’s guitar playing is solid; he plots a fairly straightforward course, but executes it with precision. He regularly snaps the strings to add some emphasis. His distinctive voice is rough and yet wonderfully expressive. The highlight of the song is the fourth verse, where instead of repeating the first line twice, Brown slowly unfolds the line, revealing more and more of it until he finally says the whole thing: “I got a woman, Lord, and she's lightning when she smiles.” Brown’s voice soars, growls and grins during the delivery of this verse, and it is a joy to listen to.

~ You may also like: Son House, “Clarksdale Moan” (Paramount 13096, 1931)

Skip James
“Devil Got My Woman” (Paramount 13088, 1931)

Skip James
“I’m So Glad” (Paramount 13098, 1931)

Nehemiah Curtis “Skip” James had a unique sound among Delta blues musicians, and his legacy has proven highly influential. He recorded 26 songs for Paramount in 1931, but only 18 have survived. Despite their utter brilliance, sales of James’ records were poor due to the Great Depression, and he would not record again until the very end of his life when he was “rediscovered” during the folk revival. Nevertheless, his sound proved influential to later blues musicians like Robert Johnson, and his stature has grown over time.

“Devil Got My Woman” is one of James’ best recordings, and was the inspiration for Robert Johnson’s “Hell Hound On My Trail.” James plays the song very slowly in an ominous, open D-minor tuning, and his eerie, high pitched voice cuts to the listener’s soul with every line. The opening lines set the tone: “I’d rather be the devil to be that woman’s man / nothing but the devil change my baby’s mind.” James continues the song in that mournful, wailing tone until revealing the source of his despair at the end: “Woman I love, took her from my best friend / but he got lucky, stole her back again.”

~ You may also like: Skip James, “Hard Time Killin’ Floor Blues” (Paramount 13065, 1931)

“I’m So Glad” is another classic from James. Like “Devil Got My Woman,” James’ distinct, high pitched voice features prominently and gives the song an otherworldly feel. However, this song is much faster, and contains some inspired fingerpicking. James easily proves himself the equal of the best Piedmont blues fingerpickers, but his technique is uniquely his own. His unusual tone and forceful delivery set him apart from his contemporaries, and mark him as a kindred spirit with later guitar heroes like Jimi Hendrix and Jimmy Page.

~ You may also like: Skip James, “Jesus Is a Mighty Good Leader” (Paramount 13108, 1931)

Willie Walker
“South Carolina Rag” (Columbia 14578-D, 1931)

Willie Walker was a talented guitarist who unfortunately only cut only single in his lifetime. “South Carolina Rag” is one side of that solitary record, an easy-going, ragtime-inspired ditty that leaves you wanting more. Walker has a fine voice with a lot of range, and he takes advantage of it in the way he slides from low to falsetto. But it is his guitar work that deserves most of the praise, as he shows a fluid fingerpicking style that shows him to be among the best of the Piedmont blues guitarists. Walker manages to show off on guitar without doing anything to diminish the song’s relaxed feel. It’s an enjoyable and entertaining listen that shows true talent, and like so many others of his generation, it is a shame he didn’t leave behind any more of a legacy.

~ You may also like: Blind Blake, “Police Dog Blues” (Paramount 12888, 1929)

Blind Sammie (Blind Willie McTell)
“Broke Down Engine Blues” (Columbia 14632-D, 1931)

Willie McTell recorded under a variety of names for a variety of record labels. For this original recording of “Broke Down Engine Blues” on Columbia, he was billed as “Blind Sammie.” He would later record the song as Blind Willie McTell in 1933 (Vocalion 02577) and as Barrelhouse Sammy in 1949 (Atlantic 891). Whatever the name on the record, there is no mistaking his distinct voice and unique 12-string guitar style.

The song tells a typical blues story: a man is down on his luck and feels “like a broke down engine” that “ain’t got no drive at all.” The narrator tells of gambling away all of his money and losing his woman as well: “I went down to my praying ground and fell on bended knees / I ain’t crying for no religion, Lordy, give me back my good gal please.” McTell’s guitar playing is magnificent, but much more reserved here than on his 1928 masterpiece “Statesboro Blues.” What makes this song truly compelling is his quivering, nasal voice. He gives it a great workout on this record, and the result is addictive, especially between verses when he sings “Lordy Lord, Lordy Lordy Lord.”

~ You may also like: Blind Willie McTell, “Dark Night Blues” (Victor 38032, 1928)

Kind of Country, Kind of Blues (1930)

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While racial discrimination dictated that country was for white audiences and blues for black ones, the musicians themselves largely ignored these differences, freely borrowing from each other. The following selections show some excellent “blues” played by country artists, and a gentle folk song sung by someone whose record label tried unsuccessfully to promote him as a “blues” artist.

Charlie Poole and His North Carolina Ramblers
“If the River Was Whiskey” (Columbia 15545-D, 1930)

This record is taken from Charlie Poole’s next-to-last recording session, and shows Poole and his band in fine form. The song is an inspired re-working of two blues songs: Sleepy John Estes’ “Diving Duck Blues” (Victor V-38549, 1929) and “Hesitation Blues,” a traditional tune with lyrics by Billy Smythe, Scott Middleton and Art Gillham (first published in 1915). The instrumentation may be that of white, “hillbilly” string bands, but Poole has a real feel for the blues, and his raw vocals do a good job of expressing the yearning emotion of the lyrics: “If the river was whiskey and I was a duck / I’d dive to the bottom and I’d never come up / Oh, tell me how long have I got to wait? / Oh, can I get you now? Must I hesitate?” Odell Smith’s smooth, restrained playing on the fiddle also helps underscore that bluesy feeling. This is a simple, but powerful song, and if it does not fully fit the blues mold, it completely shatters the mold in terms of what other white string bands were playing at the time.

Unfortunately, that river of whiskey would be Poole’s downfall. After a lifetime of hard drinking, he would drink himself to heart failure a little more than a year after recording this song. He was 39.

~ You may also like: Art Gillham, “Hesitation Blues” (Columbia 343D, 1925)

The Carter Family
“Worried Man Blues” (Victor V-40317, 1930)

Despite having “blues” in the title, this song is not a blues, but another of the Carter Family’s amazing Appalachian folk ballads. This one tells the story of a man who has been captured and imprisoned, and has lost his love in the process. In this recording, Maybelle Carter’s harmony vocals are nearly as prominent as Sara’s lead. The two altos deliver the vocals in a very simple, straight-ahead fashion with very little embellishment, but despite this understated approach, the combined voices create a sound that is riveting. (A.P. Carter also sings on the track, and his voice is more lively, but it is barely audible behind the women.) Maybelle sounds as if she is singing “wearied” instead of “worried,” which adds an extra layer of possible meaning to the song – one that works well with the world-weary delivery of the lyrics.

~ You may also like: The Carter Family, “My Clinch Mountain Home” (Victor V-40058, 1929)

Mississippi John Hurt
“Avalon Blues” (Okeh 8759, 1930)

In 1928, John Hurt traveled to New York to record a few sides for Okeh, and this record captures that experience. Like all his recordings, Hurt’s style is very understated and gentle. In a sweet, quiet voice he sings simple lyrics about life in his hometown of Avalon, Mississippi, and feeling homesick for it while visiting New York: “New York’s a good town, but it’s not for mine / Going back to Avalon, near where I have a pretty mama all the time.” Hurt accompanies himself on guitar with a deceptively subtle but intricate fingerpicking style that is incredibly beautiful.

Like all of Hurt’s 1928 recordings, “Avalon Blues” had trouble finding an audience amidst the other, less subtle blues records of the day. It sold poorly when it was released in 1930, and tragically, no record company would come calling again for 35 years. However, appreciation for his music grew considerably during the folk revival of the 1950s and ‘60s, and in 1963, music scholar Tom Hoskins managed to use the lyrics of “Avalon Blues” like a treasure map to locate Hurt. Now in his 70s, this time Hurt was greeted as a living legend, and he spent the last few years of his life recording and performing for the kind of eager, appreciative audiences that had escaped him the first time around.

~ You may also like: Mississippi John Hurt, “Got the Blues, Can't Be Satisfied” (Okeh 8724, 1929)

On Top of the World (1930)

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The next four recordings feature superb blues played on a variety of instruments, including banjo, mandolin, violin and harmonica. These tracks are engaging, entertaining and wholly original. Sadly, this kind of variety would soon be a thing of the past, as the Great Depression limited recording opportunities for all but the most successful blues artists.

Cannon’s Jug Stompers
“Walk Right In” (Victor V-38611, 1930)

Gus Cannon was a seminal figure in the Memphis jug band scene, and “Walk Right In” is his most famous composition. It has been covered by many artists since, but the original is hard to beat. Cannon plays banjo and sings the vocals, with some excellent support by Noah Lewis on harmonica and Hosea Woods on kazoo and backing vocals. Lewis’ harmonica is very subdued and is not the first thing many listeners will notice, but it is the key to the entire record. The harmonica is present at just about every point in the song, and Lewis shows a tremendous range throughout. The singing is well done also, and Woods’ lengthy kazoo solo during the bridge shows what that instrument is capable of in the hands of a master.

~ You may also like: Jack Kelly’s South Memphis Jug Band, “Highway No. 61 Blues” (Perfect 254, 1933)

Sleepy John Estes
“Milk Cow Blues” (Victor V-38614, 1930)

Fellow bluesman Big Bill Broonzy described John Estes’ music as “crying the blues,” because of his emotionally expressive vocal style. That voice is in fine form as he sings some classic lyrics on “Milk Cow Blues,” one of his earliest hits: “Went upstairs to pack my leavin’ trunk / I never saw no whiskey, but the blues done made me sloppy drunk.” Estes plays just a very basic rhythm part on guitar, but is accompanied by piano and an out-of-tune mandolin played by James “Yank” Rachel. That mandolin keeps the whole record slightly off-kilter, but Rachel’s picking is outstanding and shadows Estes’ vocals extremely well.

~ You may also like: Jack Kelly’s South Memphis Jug Band, “Red Ripe Tomatoes” (Perfect 254, 1933)

Mississippi Sheiks
“Sitting on Top of the World” (Okeh 8784, 1930)

The Mississippi Sheiks were an African American string band from the Jackson, Mississippi area consisting of Lonnie Chatmon on fiddle and Walter Vincson on guitar and vocals. “Sitting on Top of the World” was their biggest hit, and has become a blues standard. While the instrumentation is the same as that used by white, “hillbilly” string bands, the pace is much slower and it has a distinct blues feel to it. Vincson’s strong voice bears as much resemblance to Jimmie Rodgers (sans yodeling) as it does to his fellow Mississippi bluesmen, which further underlines this band’s unique blend of country and blues. The lyrics paint a bleak picture of lost love, but sound an optimistic note in defiance of the song’s overall melancholy feel: “But now she’s gone / I don’t worry / I’m sitting on top of the world.” It is a simple but very well constructed record. Vincson picks out a slow beat on his guitar with small flourishes at the end of each verse, while Chatmon expertly carries the melody on fiddle, stretching out sad, vibrato-filled notes.

~ You may also like: Mississippi Sheiks, “Stop and Listen Blues” (Okeh 8807, 1930)

Blues Birdhead
“Mean Low Blues” (Okeh 8824, 1930)

James Simons, a.k.a. “Blues Birdhead,” cut only one record and is not well remembered today, but he was very influential in the development of the harmonica as a blues instrument. He was the first to “over blow” the instrument on record, a technique which greatly increased its range. Simons puts that full range to good use on this record, urging every conceivable sound out of his harmonica in a truly remarkable performance. With piano accompaniment, he displays a jazz musician’s instinct for improvisation, sustaining a soft, vibrato-filled note one moment, then launching into an impressive cascade of notes the next. He makes the harp sing, then growl, then wail, and at one point he and the piano both launch briefly into a breakneck boogie woogie rhythm. The best part may be near the end, when it appears that the record is fading out on a final sustained note, but Simons playfully comes back with just a little bit more.

~ You may also like some more early harmonica blues: Jaybird Coleman and the Birmingham Jug Band, “Man Trouble Blues” (Columbia 14534-D, 1930)

So Sweet (1930)

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The next recordings are pure pop delight. Songs like “Confessin’” and “Dancing with Tears in My Eyes” are often referred to as “sweet” and criticized for being a watered-down version of the “hot” swinging jazz that people like Louis Armstrong were making. But that is missing the point: yes, this is jazz with all of the rough edges smoothed out, but what is left is a pure distillation of the beauty within. This is sweet candy for the ears. The same can be said for treats like “The Peanut Vendor” and “Mood Indigo” as well. Treat yourself and enjoy.

Guy Lombardo and His Royal Canadians
“Confessin’” (Columbia 2259-D, 1930)

For the record, Louis Armstrong himself was a huge fan of Guy Lombardo. Listening to “Confessin’,” that comes as no surprise. The light sound here is deceiving: this is a band on top of its game. The orchestra moves as one with every instrument in place, and the playing is exceptional. The exquisitely crafted melody has you so entranced that by the time the lovely single-string guitar solo starts 40 seconds in, you already feel like confessin’ your love for this song. There is another minute of equally sweet music to go, though, before the singing begins. The wonderful guitar re-enters at this point to back up the vocals, and the effect is just heavenly.

~ You may also like: Red Nichols and His Five Pennies, “Ida! Sweet As Apple Cider” (Brunswick 3626, 1927)

Nat Shilkret and the Victor Orchestra
“Dancing with Tears in My Eyes” (Victor 22425, 1930)

Nat Shilkret was the head of Victor’s “light music” division. As a bandleader, he rivaled Paul Whiteman in popularity in the late 1920s. (It was actually Shilkret who led Whiteman’s band in the famous 1927 recording of George Gershwin’s “Rhapsody in Blue.”) “Dancing with Tears in My Eyes” was the biggest hit of his career. Again, there is nothing technically challenging about this piece, and its classification as “jazz” is tenuous at best, but it is so amazingly beautiful it will make your heart ache. This song itself is like a dance: listen to the baritone sax at the one minute mark, and then the orchestra’s response. Once the vocals are finished, the orchestra comes in with a bit of ballroom-worthy light jazz that is hard to resist dancing to, with or without tears in your eyes. That baritone sax peeks in again at the very end, as the instruments come together for a delicately beautiful finale.

~ You may also like: Ben Selvin and His Orchestra featuring Scrappy Lambert, “Dancing in the Dark” (Columbia 2473-D, 1931)

Don Azpiazu and His Havana Casino Orchestra
“The Peanut Vender (El Manicero)” (Victor 22483, 1930)

Cuba had already become a popular destination for Americans during Prohibition in the 1920s, and ties with New York were particularly strong. Many influential New York bands played regularly in Havana, and in 1930 this Cuban ensemble traveled to New York and recorded “The Peanut Vendor.” While not strictly music in the “American tradition,” it became the first Cuban record to sell more than a million copies and kick-started a Cuban music craze. Cuban and American music have continued to intermingle and influence each other ever since.

“The Peanut Vendor” is a pregón (a song based on a street vendor’s cry) and is performed in the son style, which combines Spanish guitar and song structure with African rhythms and percussion. It is a heavenly song. The gentle, polyrhythmic percussion is hypnotic and makes it hard to sit still while listening. Singer Antonio Machín’s vocals are enchanting, and trumpeter Julio Cueva adds just the right amount of flair. At the end, the music softens and trails off dreamily as Machín repeats “Me voy” (“I’m going”) softer and softer. Wonderful.

~ You may also like one of the most popular bands during the 1930s Cuban music craze: Lecuona Cuban Boys, “Rumba Tambah” (Columbia 45-DC 735 , 1935)

The Jungle Band (Duke Ellington)
“Mood Indigo (Dreamy Blues)” (Brunswick 4952, 1930)

Not above sounding sweet himself, this Duke Ellington record is simply amazing. The Brunswick version of “Mood Indigo” is the second of three he recorded in late 1930 (the first was released as Okeh 8840 and the third was Victor 22587). As usual, all of these versions are unique and worth acquiring, but this seven-piece “Jungle Band” version is the one to start with. The horns begin by painting a slow, muted picture on top of a subdued but persistent rhythm section. Then clarinetist Barney Bigard steals the show with the first solo, giving a performance that shows that hot and sweet are not mutually exclusive. Even when he dramatically soars to the highest register – and squeaks on the way back down – it sounds like he is floating weightlessly. The trumpet solo by Arthur Whetsol continues in the same minimalistic but beautiful vein, and then after a brief interlude by Ellington on piano, the horns come together again for the mellow wrap-up.

~ You may also like: Duke Ellington and His Orchestra, “The Blues with a Feelin’” (Okeh 8662, 1929)

Happy Days (1930)

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The world may have been in an economic depression, but one never would have known that listening to the music being made in 1930.

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1930 Headlines … Worldwide Great Depression worsens … Radio mystery program The Shadow debuts … Construction is begun on the Boulder Dam (Hoover Dam) … The BBC begins regular TV transmission in U.K.
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Louis Armstrong and His Orchestra
“St. Louis Blues” (Okeh 41350, 1930)

This is the second recording Louis Armstrong made of W.C. Handy’s classic “St. Louis Blues.” The first was a slow, heartfelt recording in 1925 with Armstrong on cornet and blues great Bessie Smith on vocals. This version is every bit as brilliant, but that is where the comparison stops, because the two sound nothing alike. Armstrong takes the same Handy melody as a starting point, but creates his own unique interpretation of it: he speeds it up, adds exotic percussion and jazz instrumentation, and improvises like mad. Not only does he add his own unique spin to the melody, but he throws the original lyrics away and starts over from scratch. He sings lines like, “I believe in my soul my baby’s tryin’ to quit me,” but there is no trace of melancholy. Instead, Armstrong’s vocals are as exuberant as his trumpet playing. And his trumpet playing is phenomenal, especially in the song’s final minute where Armstrong abandons the original melody all together and soars into the stratosphere with some unbelievably joyous improvisation. It is nothing less than we have come to expect from him, but for the mainstream audiences who were just starting to pay attention to him, this must have been quite a revelation.

~ You may also like: Louis Armstrong and His Savoy Ballroom Five, “St. James Infirmary” (Okeh 8657, 1929)

Louis Armstrong
“Weather Bird” (Okeh 41454, 1930)

The first record released under just Armstrong’s name was actually a duet with pianist Earl Hines. It was recorded in Chicago in December 1928 but not issued until nearly two years later in October 1930. Compare it with other any other jazz record made during this time, and you’ll see why: this is revolutionary stuff that did not easily fit into the rest of Armstrong’s cannon. Armstrong is as impressive as ever, but he actually plays it fairly straightforward. It is Hines that steals the show, as he turns all previous notions of jazz piano inside out, sounding like nothing that had ever been heard before. We had been given some glimpses into Hines’ revolutionary style in his previous work on Armstrong’s Hot Five recordings, but not to this degree. He sounds twenty years ahead of his time, as he plays fast and loose with the tempo and bangs out a series of what at times sounds like completely random notes. Despite the perceived chaos, however, there is a method to Hines’ madness and it all fits together brilliantly. For example, listen to his solo about half-way through, where his two hands seem to be playing two different songs, and at times even two different tempos, but they somehow come together again just before Armstrong re-enters. Its complexity makes “Weather Bird” a challenge to listen to, but also a delight. This is where modern jazz begins.

~ You may also like: Earl Hines, “57 Varieties” (Okeh 8653, 1929)

Ben Selvin and His Orchestra
“Happy Days Are Here Again” (Columbia 2116-D, 1930)

This song was written in 1929 and first recorded in November of that year by Leo Reisman and His Orchestra (Victor 22221), soon after the Black Tuesday stock market crash that marked the start of the Great Depression. Popular band leader Ben Selvin had a big hit with it the following year, and Franklin D. Roosevelt revived it as his Presidential campaign theme song in 1932. It is an enjoyable piece that captures its time well. The lyrics paint an unabashedly sunny picture: “Your cares and troubles are gone / There'll be no more from now on.” However, the singing in Selvin’s version is very reserved and mostly sticks to the lower registers, suggesting a cautious optimism. The instruments are also mostly toned down, although there are a few showy flashes, which become more pronounced toward the end, finishing the song on a high note.

~ You may also like: Claude Hopkins And His Orchestra, “Mush Mouth” (Columbia 2674-D, 1932)

Fred Astaire
“Puttin’ On the Ritz” (Columbia DB 96, 1930)

Fred Astaire’s first claim to fame was his marvelous dancing, which he expertly displayed in many of Hollywood’s biggest musicals. He also had a pleasant singing voice that helped him score several chart hits, including this classic Irving Berlin number. Most of Astaire’s better known hits were sung in a sweet, “crooning” style, but this record is fiery by comparison. Not only is the instrumentation feisty, but Astaire proves himself adept at jazz singing, with loads of expression and a swinging approach to timing. The tap dancing interludes are also well done, the tapping syncing nicely with the bouncing rhythm section.

Incidentally, this is the first recording on this list made outside of the United States: Astaire cut this record while on tour in London in March 1930.

~ You may also like the first British jazz record to gain popularity in America: Fred Elizalde and His Music featuring Al Bowlly, “If I Had You” (British Brunswick 3948, 1928)

Hard Times: 1930-1939

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The 1920s were a unique period in the development of American music, and as we reach the end of that decade, it’s worth taking a look back at its significance. More than any other decade, the ‘20s stand apart musically, and it is important that we not forget this music: not just because of its historical significance, but because so much of it is amazing and unlike anything that would come after. This was a decade where every artist was a pioneer, every record a first. While modern audiences often don’t appreciate the richness of this period, the ‘20s rival any decade since in terms of the diversity of music captured on record. And although the musical landscape was rapidly evolving thanks to technology and social changes, the recordings of this period give us a window at least into the music that had been passed down but never recorded in the previous decades and centuries.

For many rural artists of the 1920s, making records was a curiosity, a way to earn a few extra dollars, but not a primary source of income. Few artists achieved fame on a national level, and in many cases record sales were limited to within a few miles of the artist’s home town. Many rural artists – African American and white alike – never found success in their own times, and lived their entire lives in relative poverty. Some recorded a few sides and were never heard from again: we have no biographical information, no surviving photographs, just a handful of scratchy records. The fact that some of these records were made at all is in many ways a miracle, and one can only speculate about the equally talented artists that never got the chance to leave such a legacy behind.

As the 1930s began under the shadow of the Great Depression, money for buying records dried up and with it recording opportunities for all but a handful of the artists of the ‘20s. Many brilliant careers stalled as poor rural artists were forgotten, and put aside their banjos and guitars to take jobs as janitors and field hands. Some of those artists would be rediscovered in their twilight years decades later, and would finally find the fame they so deserved, playing before thousands of appreciative fans at folk festivals. But for many more, it was too late. A shockingly high percentage of these artists died young, done in by a combination of fast living, poor medicine and hard times. They were buried, some in unmarked graves, and quickly forgotten.

The 1930s would in many ways be even harder. At the height of the Great Depression, many record companies went out of business, and there were almost no new records being made. And yet, the well never went completely dry. Jazz would continue to capture audiences’ attention, thanks to the fresh new sound of big band swing, and for those jazz artists able to make the transition, there were many opportunities. Blues, country and other “folk” styles also managed to hold on, and they too innovated new sounds that would earn a place in history.

What follows are some of the undeniable classics of this new decade, as well as a few all-but-forgotten gems that deserve to be rediscovered. Start here, but by all means explore the music of the ‘30s on your own as well… and enjoy!

Lovable and Sweet (1929)

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These final three recordings from 1929 feature three very talented ladies singing lovely, jazzy pop songs. All three are sweet slices of pure heaven.

Annette Hanshaw
“Lovable and Sweet” (Okeh 41292, 1929)

Annette Hanshaw was one of the first great female jazz singers. “Loveable And Sweet” was one of her best records, and is a great showcase for her easy-going, accessible style and a natural sense of swing. Her tone fluctuates subtly between matter-of-fact and dreamy as she describes her man: “Talk about your perfect lover / And you couldn’t help discover / That he’s that way lovable and sweet / He’s candy!” The instrumentation is well done, as is Hanshaw’s effortless scat singing, and they match the charming tone of the rest of the song. The song slows to a perfect end, as the dreaminess finally wins when Hanshaw delivers the final, affectionate line: “He’s very loveable, and oh so sweet.”

~ You may also like: Marion Harris, “The Man I Love” (Victor 21116, 1928)

Ruth Etting
“Love Me or Leave Me” (Columbia 1680-D, 1929)

Ruth Etting was one of the most popular singers of the late 1920s and early ‘30s. Compare her style to Annette Hanshaw or Ethel Waters, and you’ll hear a big difference: while Etting’s style and accompaniment was certainly flavored by the jazz of her time, she sang her songs in a by-the-book pop style instead of the looser, improvised feel of true jazz singers. “Love Me or Leave Me” was her signature song, and in this recording Etting relies on her expressive, versatile voice to deliver the sentimental lyrics. Twice in the song she sings: “There’ll be no one unless that someone is you / I intend to be independently blue.” Notice how she hits the word “you” in those places. The first time, she hits a high, clear, beautiful note that perfectly captures her sense of sad resolve. But as the song progresses, more emotion bubbles to the surface, and when she sings that line again, the word “you” starts on an even higher note, but wavers dynamically.

~ You may also like: Ruth Etting, “Ten Cents a Dance” (Columbia 2146-D, 1930)

Ethel Waters
“Am I Blue?” (Columbia 1837-D, 1929)

Ethel Waters was a versatile blues, jazz and pop singer, and one of the most popular entertainers of her day. “Am I Blue?” was one of her best recordings, a dazzling performance that bears witness to her remarkable range. She sings the verses in a very earthy, bluesy fashion, but her approach becomes lighter and jazzier for the choruses. Along the way, she freely varies her tone and timing, bending the song to her will with a supreme sense of showmanship. He voice goes from rough and raspy to pure and sweet with ease, and it is always highly expressive: at times she almost shouts the lines, and at other times she almost cries them. The jazz instruments follow her lead, providing an understated, bluesy backdrop that shadows her tone step for step and provides just the right accompaniment for her incredible voice.

~ You may also like: Willard Robison, “Deep Elm” (Perfect 12387, 1927)