Please note: this article dates to Old Time Blues’ first year and does not meet the standard of quality to which more recent postings are held. Thank you for your understanding.
A Happy Easter (1942) from Old Time Blues to you!
I spent some time carefully deliberating over an appropriate record for this Easter. I considered a variety of rural sacred material, but nothing seemed to fit properly, before it hit me: what song could be more fitting for the occasion than Irving Berlin’s “Easter Parade”! I don’t know how I could have initially made such an oversight.
While these sides bear the name of Joe Venuti (though it was largely just an ARC studio band that included Venuti), they’re not particularly hot music. In fact, they’re rather run-of-the-mill Depression-era pop tunes, not bad by any means, quite good actually, but not hot jazz. However, these sides are remarkable for at least one reason: they both feature a vocal refrain by one Dolores DeFina, using the name Dolores Reade at the behest of her agent. Less than a year after this record was made, Dolores Reade married an emergent vaudevillian by the name of Bob Hope. Though she had to put up with Bob’s womanizing habit, the two remained married until Hope’s death in 2003. Dolores passed in 2011 at the age of 102.
Melotone M 12828 was recorded October 26, 1933 in New York City by Joe Venuti and his Orchestra, featuring a vocal chorus on both sides by Dolores Reade. Both songs originate from Irving Berlin’s 1933 revue, As Thousands Cheer. While the full personnel is not known, the band includes, besides Venuti on violin, Max Farley on clarinet and alto sax and Pat Davis or Bud Freeman on tenor sax.
In celebration of the holiday today, here’s a charming rendition of “Easter Parade”.
Easter Parade, recorded October 26, 1933 by Joe Venuti and his Orchestra.
On the other side is another song from As Thousands Cheer, though it’s not as well remembered as “Easter Parade”, “Heat Wave”.
Heat Wave, recorded October 26, 1933 by Joe Venuti and his Orchestra.
Born on this day (March 20) was Frank Hutchison, one of the outstanding players in early recorded music, and one of the earliest white musicians to record blues.
Hutchison was born in 1897 (per his birth certificate, though some sources suggest an 1891 date, see Mr. Scott’s comment below) in Logan County, West Virginia. He made his living working in the coal mines, but was also a versatile musician, skilled in guitar, which he frequently played using a slide, harmonica, and vocals. In September of 1926, Hutchison made his first recordings for the Okeh Phonograph Company, starting with one of his most famous numbers, “Worried Blues”. From 1926 to 1929, Hutchison cut forty-one sides, all for Okeh, and appeared on Okeh’s “Medicine Show” a set of records highlighting Okeh’s top hillbilly artists, much like Columbia’s “A Corn Licker Still in Georgia” series, and so forth. After making his records and ending his work in the coal mines, he opened a store and served as postmaster of Lake, West Virginia. Tragically, Hutchison lost everything and became an alcoholic when the store burned down. He later relocated to Ohio and worked as a musician on riverboats. Hutchison died of liver disease in 1945.
Okeh 45313 was recorded September 10 and 11, 1928 in New York City by Frank Hutchison. These were Hutchison’s only sessions in 1928, and the latter was his second to last session overall.
As were a great many of Hutchison’s recordings, the humorous “The Burglar Man”—an old time song also recorded by the likes of Uncle Dave Macon—is nothing short of a guitar masterpiece. This side was recorded on the latter date.
The Burglar Man, recorded September 11, 1928 by Frank Hutchison.
On his rendition of the old minstrel song “Alabama Girl, Ain’t You Comin’ Out Tonight?”, Hutchison is joined by Sherman Lawson on fiddle. This one is one of three issued Hutchison sides to feature Lawson. This side was recorded on the September 10 date.
Alabama Girl, Ain’t You Comin’ Out Tonight, recorded September 10, 1928 by Frank Hutchison.
Updated with improved audio on September 11, 2017, and on October 29, 2017.
Please note: this article dates to Old Time Blues’ first year and does not meet the standard of quality to which more recent postings are held. Thank you for your understanding.
At two o’clock in the morning, Sunday, March 13, 2016, most of us will be setting our clocks forward an hour for the beginning of daylight saving time. The practice first began in Europe in 1916, and the United States followed suit in 1918. There’s always been plenty of debate and debacle as to whether or not we should have it or not. I don’t care one way or the other, I’m just here to play good music, and that’s exactly what I’m going to do!
Victor 22723 was recorded May 26, 1931 at Victor’s Studio 2 in New York City by Maurice Chevalier backed by an orchestra conducted by Leonard Joy. Released as the economy was worsening, it sold 6,551 copies.
Forget about daylight saving time, Maurice Chevalier thinks “There Ought to Be a Moonlight Saving Time”.
There Ought to Be a Moonlight Saving Time, recorded May 26, 1931 by Maurice Chevalier.
On the reverse, Maurice wants your “keesses” “Right Now!”, and how!
Right Now!, recorded May 26, 1931 by Maurice Chevalier.
Bix Beiderbecke, circa mid-1920s. From Jazzmen, 1939.
March 10th marks the 113th birthday of the Patron Saint of Jazz, one of the greatest musical geniuses of the twentieth century, the one and only Bix Beiderbecke.
Leon “Bix” Beiderbecke (some sources claim his full middle name was Bismark, others say it was properly Bix) was born March 10, 1903 in Davenport, Iowa. Hearing the jazz music on the riverboats that ran from New Orleans to Chicago, Bix had an affinity for music from an early age, and played with a number of bands as early as high school. Bix was inspired to take up the cornet after his brother Burnie returned from his service in the Great War, bringing home a phonograph and some records by the Original Dixieland Jazz Band, at which point Bix was hooked. He started recording with Dick Voynow’s territory band, the Wolverine Orchestra for Gennett, and later with the Bucktown Five and his own band, the Rhythm Jugglers. In 1926, Bix was hired by Jean Goldkette’s Orchestra in Chicago, but was fired shortly thereafter due to his inability to read music. He was rehired soon after, having brushed up on music reading, and played with many other jazz greats in Goldkette’s band, including Frankie Trumbauer (his frequent collaborator), Eddie Lang, Joe Venuti, and the Dorsey Brothers. As Goldkette’s orchestra fell on hard times, Paul Whiteman hired away many of his top men, including Bix, to play in his orchestra, the most popular dance band of the day. All the while, Bix recorded hot (and sometimes cool) jazz tunes with Frankie Trumbauer’s and his own band for Okeh. Bix had only two loves in his life, music and booze, and unfortunately, the latter was taking his life away.
In 1928, Bix suffered a nervous breakdown, brought on by an attempt to lessen his alcohol intake, and was forced to take leave of Whiteman’s band to recover at his home in Davenport. He returned to Whiteman’s orchestra in 1929, and traveled to Hollywood to appear with the band in King of Jazz, though he instead took the opportunity to drink with Bing Crosby, and did not appear in the picture. He once again returned to his home, and spent some time in a sanatarium, hoping to recover from his sickness. Paul Whiteman kept his chair in the band open, hoping for Bix’s return. After that, Bix made only a handful more recordings with an assortment of different groups. In his final recording session, on September 15, 1930, Bix played in Hoagy Carmichael’s band for the first recording of “Georgia On My Mind”. On a hot summer night in his apartment in Queens, Death came a-rapping for Bix Beiderbecke. On August 6, 1931, Bix practiced his piano into the night, around 9:30, he had a fit of delirium, believing that a gang of Mexicans under his bead was trying to kill him. His screams alerted a neighbor, who hurried across the hall to see what was wrong. Bix told him of what he saw, and dropped dead in his arms.
Vocalion 3150 was recorded September 9 and 17, 1927 in New York City by Bix Beiderbecke. It was originally issued on Okeh 40916, with the Vocalion 3150 reissue released around 1935, though this pressing dates to around 1938 or ’39. If anything, this late pressing, in exquisite condition, might well offer better playback than the original 1927 issue, as those pressings tend to develop lamination cracks around the edges, often causing a background rumble in playback.
On this disc, Bix plays “In a Mist”, also sometimes known (on the British issue, for instance) as “Bixology”, the only recorded piece of his Modern Piano Suite, which also included “In the Dark”, “Candlelights”, and “Flashes” (all of which can be found on Rivermont Records’ special edition 78 RPM release played by Bryan Wright.)
In a Mist, recorded September 9, 1927 by Bix Beiderbecke.
On the reverse, Beiderbecke is joined by Frankie Trumbauer and Eddie Lang to play “Wringin’ an’ Twistin'” in their three piece band, with Bix doubling on cornet and piano.
Wringin’ an’ Twistin’, recorded September 17, 1927 by Tram – Bix and Lang.
May Singhi Breen and Peter DeRose. From 1932 publication.
For your hopeful enjoyment today, I offer you yet another dance band double feature, this time two Electradisks. As with our first Bluebird double feature, these two are consecutively numbered, one catalog number falling immediately after other.
Electradisk was the RCA Victor Company’s second venture into the field of budget records, following the failure of Timely Tunes. Electradisks were introduced in 1932 and originally offered in an eight inch format (which is very rarely seen today) along with a prototypical Bluebird of the same format and sold at Woolworth’s dimestores. Soon, both Bluebird and Electradisk were upgraded to the standard ten inch format, which seems to have sold better, though Bluebirds of that period are still impossible to find. The Electradisk label continued into 1933, and was discontinued in that same year. Around that time, the “buff” label Bluebird was introduced, and began huge success and a mainstay well into the 1940s.
First is Electradisk 1922, recorded on November 22, 1932 in RCA’s Studio 1 in New York City. On the first of the pair, the Peter De Rose Orchestra (actually Tom Berwick’s Orchestra using DeRose’s name) plays “I’m Sure of Everything but You” with a vocal by the husband and wife duo of DeRose and “the original ukulele lady” May Singhi Breen…
I’m Sure of Everything But You, recorded November 22, 1932 by Peter De Rose Orchestra.
…and on the flip, “Underneath the Harlem Moon”, with a vocal by the Marshall Sisters, no doubt trying to capitalize on the success of the Boswell Sisters (though they’re nowhere near as good, sorry to say).
Underneath the Harlem Moon, recorded November 22, 1932 by Peter De Rose Orchestra.
The second disk splits up its artist credits to Jim Harkins and his Orchestra and Sid Peltyn and his Orchestra, but once again, both are pseudonyms for Tom Berwick’s band. Both sides of Electradisk 1923 were recorded November 23, 1932 in New York. On the first side, “Harkins'” orchestra presents a respectable rendition of the 1932 popular song “Play, Fiddle, Play”, featured by the likes of “Street Singer” Arthur Tracy. According to the distinguished Mr. Paul Lindemeyer, Harkins was a Boston area banjo and guitar player who doubled on the bagpipes.
Play, Fiddle, Play, recorded November 23, 1932 by Jim Harkins and his Orchestra and Sid Peltyn and his Orchestra.
On the flip, “Peltyn’s” band plays the Great Depression topical song “Here it is Monday and I’ve Still Got a Dollar”.
Here it is Monday and I’ve Still Got a Dollar, recorded November 23, 1932 by Jim Harkins and his Orchestra and Sid Peltyn and his Orchestra.
