A name from the past remembered by
Although not too well-known to the general public, the name and reputation of Matty Malneck are a legend in the music business in America which he graced for something like sixty years as musician, composer, arranger and conductor.
Born in Newark, New Jersey on 10 December 1904, he went into music at the age of sixteen, when he began taking violin lessons from his school music teacher Wilberforce J. Whiteman, whose son Paul was to play an important role in the young Matty's future career. He was soon playing with small local bands until he was 22, when he met up again with Paul Whiteman who asked him to join the mammoth (for those days) Whiteman Concert Orchestra on violin and viola.
His first recording session with the band was an (unreleased) version of Ferde Grofe's Mississippi Suite on 27 March 1926, and an early live appearance with Whiteman was at the Royal Albert Hall in London two weeks later, which HMV recorded but never issued. Malneck left the band for a few months in 1928 to do a number of sessions with that ubiquitous self-publicist and musical faker Irving Mills & His Hotsy-Totsy Gang, and other Mills groups like Goody & His Good-Timers and TheWhoopee Makers.
He returned to Whiteman as a major influence in composing and arranging, his fiddle playing was a by no means negligible part of the band’s string section and he was a jazz performer in recordings by Whiteman splinter groups led by sidemen such as Frankie Trumbauer, which found Matty Malneck partnering Hoagy Carmichael, Bix Beiderbecke, Jimmy Dorsey, Lennie Hayton, Joe Venuti and Eddie Lang & co.
On a return visit to London in November 1932 he guested on violin with Carroll Gibbons & His Boy Friends in a new version of On The Air/Till Tomorrow. His first experience as a leader was on a 1931 session for singer Mildred Bailey when he led a sextet to accompany her, repeating his function as leader a few months later when he conducted more or less the full Whiteman orchestra for a batch of singles including her famous version of Rockin’ Chair.
Deciding it was time he earned all the fruits of his labours Matty Malneek formed his own band in 1935 with dates booked in hotels, restaurants, theatres and clubs, but he was still busy doing recordings with Bing Crosby with whom had worked back in the Paul Whiteman days. If fact it was he who had put Bing together with Al Rinker and newcomer Harry Barris to form Whiteman’s Rhythm Boys.
The Malneck orchestra worked steadily featuring his bespectacled piano-accordionist Milton Delugg, until it got around to recording for Columbia in 1940 with Helen Ward as vocalist. But it wasn't a successful venture, as of the nine sides the band made the company issued only four in the USA and none at all in this country.
Matty appeared with his band in films like "St. Louis Blues" (1938) for which he and Frank Loesser wrote I Go For That, and in 1939 they wrote Fidgety Joe for "Man About Town", but Matty didn't contribute any songs to "Scatterbrain" (1940) and 1944' s "Trocadero" in which the band was featured.
Other film songs written by Mattv Malneck were for "Transatlantic Merry-Go-Round" (1932), If I Had A Million Dollars written in collaboration with Johnny Mercer, as was Central Park which they did for "Let's Make Music" (1941) and the complete score for "To Beat The Band" which included Eeny Meeny Miney Mo and If You Were Mine. He worked again with Frank Loesser on "Hawaiian N/ghts" in 1939, once more doing the entire score including Hey Good-Looking and I Found My Love.
Most of Matty's songs became standards, as did many not written for films, like Goody Goody, Pardon My Southern Accent , I'm Thru’ With Love, Deep Harlem and Snug As A Bug In A Rug. He also did such instrumentals as Little Buttercup and Park Avenue Fantasy co-written with his Whiteman cohort Frank Signorelli. The latter was premiered by Paul Whiteman in his 'Experiments In Modern Music’ at the Metropolitan Opera House in December 1933, and was later lyricised by Mitchell Parish as Stairway To The Stars while the Buttercup opus was transformed by Gus Kahn into I’ll Never Be The Same. One work that has not been heard since was Matty's collaboration with Harry Barris on Metropolis, an ambitious fantasy for piano and orchestra.
Clearly Matty Malneck was no ordinary musician/writer, and the only facet of his talent that might have limited his appeal to RFS members is that he does not appear to have entered the light orchestral field to any great extent. In fact, going back over the years he apparently made no records, LPs or CDs under his own name. His post-war activities decreased somewhat, although he carried on working. He did well with Bebop Spoken Here reuniting with his pre-war accordionist Milton Delugg, teamed up with harpist Robert Maxwell for Shangri-La, and resumed his old partnership with the great Johnny Mercer in two songs from the Audrey Hepburn-Gary Cooper movie "Love In The Afternoon".
His long association with dance music and jazz in the thirties made Malneck an obvious choice as MD of the 1959 United Artists film "Some Like It Hot", set around that era. His contribution was to supervise and conduct the band sequences by "Sweet Sue & Her Society Syncopators"... also to ensure that the score included his own I'm Thru’ With Love as a feature for Marilyn Monroe and Stairway To The Stars as romantic background music for her and Tony Curtis.
It's virtually inconceivable that such a man would not have continued making his mark musically, yet as far as I have been able to ascertain this might well have been his last assignment of any stature and importance before his death in March 1981 at the age of 77. A name from the past, perhaps, but what a name and what a past!
Editor: Matty Malneck’s date of birth is given as 9 December 1903 in some reference works; his date of death also appears as 25 February 1981.
This article first appeared in ‘Journal Into Melody’ June 2006.
THE NOSTALGIC DELIGHTS OF BBC TELEVISION NEWSREEL
By PETER LUCK
When BBC Television resumed transmission on 7th June 1946 after an interval of more than six years during World War II, news was seen as the preserve of sound radio and no attempt was made to broadcast televised bulletins. At that time the BBC had a monopoly of public service broadcasting in Britain, long before the advent of any form of competition, and the only concession to news broadcasting on television took the form of an audio recording of a BBC radio news bulletin, latterly the 9 o’clock (21:00) Home Service bulletin, without any form of graphics, following the end of each day’s television transmission. This had been the practice in the pre-war era also, the idea having been implemented on 3rd April 1938, although on Sundays it had been customary to broadcast the 20:50 National programme News ‘live’ instead.
This derisory coverage was not an oversight, as the then Director General, Sir William Haley, was a newspaper journalist who later became editor of The Times, and he felt that news was not appropriate for television. Prime Minister Clement Attlee disliked the medium, and the opposition leader Winston Churchill, believed that the BBC was a hotbed of communists. It was for this reason that Churchill, when he became Prime Minister, encouraged the development of Independent Television. He did not give any television interviews throughout his term of office, and furthermore, it had been agreed in the Attlee/Churchill era that ministerial broadcasts were to be for sound radio only.
The early history of newsreels coincided with the turbulent times of early twentieth century Britain. Cinemas had been showing newsreels since around 1910, with the birth of Pathé’s Animated Gazette, and in the early days of television before the second world-war the BBC had begun showing Movietone and Gaumont British Newsreels. This practice continued after the war until the newsreel companies became cautious or completely obstructive. As the popularity of television grew, they saw it as competition and no longer supplied the BBC with this material.
As a result, in 1948 the BBC began to make its own newsreel style programmes, recruiting senior journalists from the established newsreels. These films were light in content but tended to be deferential to the political establishment. BBC Television Newsreel was launched on Monday 5th January of that year, on a weekly basis. The newsreels were shown on Monday evenings, with three repeat showings during the ensuing week, but very soon two new editions were broadcast each week and this situation continued until the end of 1950. This was the first time that any form of visual in-house news presentation had been attempted.
From the outset, BBC Television Newsreel opened and closed with an animated caption showing ‘rings’ radiating from the aerial mast at Alexandra Palace round which the titles were fed in a circular motion from right to left, to the accompaniment of Hubert Bath’s ‘Empire Builders’ march (from the film "Rhodes of Africa") played by Eric Robinson and his Orchestra.
Each news story had its own introductory caption, but with the aerial mast depicted at 45 degrees, originating from the bottom left hand corner, and the ‘rings’ frozen, with the item’s title superimposed. During the course of evolution, these ‘rings’ later also became animated.
Television Newsreel was an instant success and was under the control of the Television service at Alexandra Palace rather than the news department at Broadcasting House. News editors on BBC radio were content to see it as entertainment and therefore no threat to their reputation for news that was up to the minute, accurate and impartial.
One of the most interesting aspects of the television newsreel presentation from this writer’s viewpoint was the practice of allocating a suitable item of light music as a background to each of the stories covered in the programme. This resulted in a regular feast of light music, and although many of the musical numbers were instantly recognisable to the light music devotee, e.g. ‘Comic Cuts’, ‘Melody on the Move’, ‘Peanut Polka’, ‘Joy Ride’ etc., others were less familiar. The programme’s title music was changed to Charles Williams’ composition ‘Girls in Grey’ in February 1949.
It was frustrating that there was no means of identifying the many wonderful tunes used. Some of these are now gradually coming to light over fifty years later, by chance appearances on Compact Discs of light music. Two recent examples of this are ‘Fashion Parade’ and ‘Wedding March in Midget Land’, but it is a slow process, to say the least.
If, as sometimes happened, there were several minor news items to cover that did not merit a specific item in their own right, these were swept up into a ‘Here and There’ feature. This had its own title music, in a piece entitled Bowin’ and Scrapin’ (R.Casson).
From the outset the commentary was spoken by Edward Halliday, but his appearances on screen were extremely rare, such as for example when introducing a review of the year. There is much to be said for this approach, rather than having the newsreader habitually staring into the camera, but that is not currently a fashionable view. Other regular BBC announcers also took turns with the commentary.
A standard running time of thirteen and a half minutes was adopted, but in due course the editions became more frequent. Cecil McGivern, then BBC Controller of Television Programmes, wrote in the Radio Times of 29th December 1950, "….We started 1950 with two editions of Television Newsreel per week; we start 1951 with three….." This took effect on 1st January 1951, with new editions being shown on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays.
The frequency was further enhanced to five editions per week (one edition each weeknight), as from 2nd June 1952, and this continued until the final edition on 2nd July 1954. Although it seems that the ultimate aim had been to produce seven editions per week, this goal was overtaken by events.
Snippets of hard news did tend to creep into the newsreels, but it was not until 1954 that agreement was reached on an improved format for television news. However, the Coronation of Queen Elizabeth II in June 1953 was an event that people were able to watch ‘live’ on television, and this effectively marked the beginning of the end of BBC Television Newsreel.
Eventually, on 5th July 1954 (by coincidence the very day of the withdrawal of the branch line train service to Alexandra Palace), the BBC launched a daily 20-minute ‘illustrated summary of the news’ with a commentary by an anonymous Richard Baker, off camera. The first broadcast, however, was not met with universal approval.
From this date BBC Television Newsreel was discontinued, but was replaced by "BBC Television News and Newsreel", with a similar format for the opening titles and, initially at least, it continued to use ‘Girls in Grey’ as its title music. The BBC News Division was to be responsible for all visual and audio output, and the programmes would run for a total of 25 minutes, including a 3-5 minute weather report.
The programmes were compiled at Alexandra Palace, and they incorporated film reports as received. The News Division staff assigned to the work took up their duties with great enthusiasm, and quickly developed a team spirit vital to the success of any enterprise.
In 1954-55 the amount of television air-time devoted to news increased greatly, and in September 1955 Independent Television was launched, with its own Independent News coverage.
BBC television newsreaders appeared on screen for the first time on 4th September 1955, eighteen days before the launching of Independent Television News (ITN), but only for late night summaries and only then during the headlines.
Whatever the advantages might be, if any, of today’s saturation news coverage, news reporting in those cosy far off days was a measured response to recent events based on available factual information. We were still in the time when news and comment were separated and the news itself was presented in a more positive light. Furthermore, to anyone growing up in the period, the newsreels were a joy to watch and the music enhanced their appeal.
A spin-off from the success of Television Newsreel was the introduction of a parallel programme aimed at children, entitled "BBC Television Children’s Newsreel", the first edition of which was broadcast for the first time on 23rd April 1950. The structure and style of presentation were very much the same as for the original Television Newsreel, and not in the least patronising. The commentary was spoken by Stephen Grenfell and the similar background music was used,but the title music was Clive Richardson’s ‘Holiday Spirit’. Here, again, regular BBC announcers took turns in speaking the commentary. Children’s Newsreel continued until September 1961.
Editor: any new collectors of production music may like to know that the signature tunes of the BBC Television Newsreels are available on the following CDs: "Empire Builders" Music From The Movies, Louis Levy – Living Era CD AJA 5445 [this is the original version, not the later one actually used by the BBC]; "Girls In Grey" The Great British Experience – EMI CD GB 50 [this is the commercial recording by the composer, Charles Williams]; "Holiday Spirit" – the original Chappell recording is on Guild GLCD5120 and also on Vocalion CDEA6021. Many pieces of music used in both BBC newsreels can be found on these CDs of tracks from publishers’ libraries: Queen’s Hall Light Orchestra Vol. 1 – Vocalion CDEA6012, Vol. 2 CDEA6061, & Vol. 3 CDEA6094; Sidney Torch and the New Century Orchestra - Vocalion CDEA6080; Queen’s Hall Light Orchestra – Guild GLCD5107; Bosworth recordings – Guild GLCD5115.s article first appeared in ‘Journal Into Melody’ June 2006.
THE GREAT ONES COMPARED
By Enrique Renard
I remember distinctly being 14 years old, in 1946, when I first heard Holiday for Strings in my native Chile. The reason that prompts such remembrance has to do with the particular sound of the recording. Nothing of the sort existed in a musical genre just starting to surge forth in those days of very limited recording technological resources. Clearly, to capture the ear of radio listeners what is required is a sonority way beyond that which sound engineers were able to produce then. Hence arranger-composer David Rose and the RCA engineers and producers came up with a sound that, keeping proportions, was not that different from what we heard years later, at least in terms of sonority if not fidelity. The year was 1942. That was the year Holiday For Strings was recorded for the first time.
Listening to recordings done by some of the big bands in 1938, for example, the sound is unbearably flat and pretty dead. The available mikes ignored the low register of the string bass and the treble of brass cymbals. That took away half of the sonority of the band, and if that was bad, recording strings with some fidelity was practically impossible. In the USA RCA and Columbia Records had pretty good sound engineers, and one of them came up with the idea of retarding the sound signal slightly to achieve an aural effect that would resemble an echo chamber. These things usually happen by accident, so I wouldn’t be surprised if it were found that such was the accidental result of someone manipulating the primitive electronics of the period. Whatever the reason, the sound that came out with Holiday For Strings plus a couple of other numbers recorded simultaneously by the Rose orchestra, represented a novelty, a new sound and a very attractive one at that. The record sold hundreds of thousands worldwide, but then a disastrous musicians strike took place in the USA that lasted over two years, and Rose could not continue to record, and neither did anyone else that used musicians. For a while top singers such as Bing Crosby and Frank Sinatra were accompanied only by a choir.
However, a new trend had been launched and by then Andre Kostelanetz was recording with similarly sonorous effects in the US east coast around 1941/42. Kostelanetz recorded for Columbia at Liederkrantz Hall, in New York City, a place with remarkable acoustics, and he used musicians from the New York Philharmonic. By 1945 his sales output was impressive, and Columbia gave him a free hand to do as he wished. Kosty was a remarkable musician with a range that went from classic baroque to jazz. Although he was also a splendid arranger, the scope of his activities forced him to use other arrangers. But, as correctly surmised by David Ades, and similarly to other famous orchestra leaders, arrangements done by his collaborators were supervised by him so as to conform to his well recognized sound and style. Besides, on top of having good arrangers and the best musicians, Kostelanetz could call upon as many musicians as he wanted to, regardless cost. It is no wonder, therefore, that he was able to produce such masterful recordings of Light Music covering practically the whole American song book issued from the likes of Cole Porter, Jerome Kern, Irving Berlin, Vincent Youmans and other remarkable American, British and European composers.
Kostelanetz understood popular tastes. He realized that there were some sophisticated people out there who could appreciate a fine way of voicing the strings, for instance. He also understood that such people were in minority and that in order to reach massive audiences and sales he had to play close to the melody. And he did, usually adding to it tempos that allowed dancing to the music! Hence he got not only the listeners, but the dancers and their shindigs as well! Pretty clever, but his was not only a commercial effort. He wanted to get the American public acquainted with symphonic structures, with the sound of a symphonic orchestra, and what better way to do it than playing popular songs (mostly Tin Pan Alley and Broadway melodies) with a symphonic orchestra! It is reasonable to assume he openly achieved his purpose, since by 1950 he had sold over 40 million records worldwide. His appeal was indeed universal.
Then RCA, aware of Columbia’s success with this type of music, hired Morton Gould, classified by some experts as a musical genius by the age of 6. Now Gould was quite another story in that his approach to popular standards by the aforementioned composers was entirely different. He used the jazz approach that consists of stating the theme of a song by sticking to the melody and then "going somewhere else", as he was fond of saying. His variations were invariably of impeccable taste and, in my view at least, they enriched whatever material he was using, but they were clearly for more sophisticated ears than those of the majority who listened and bought Light Music records. Still, and surprisingly, his stuff sold well, though not as well as Kostelanetz. He delved pretty much into classical music, and used the same musicians used by Kostelanetz in New York, where he too recorded.
Both had a distinctive sound. No one has ever duplicated the Kostelanetz string sound of that period. And Gould’s brass was unmistakable. It was low, even ominous at times, when he blended trombones and French horns with remarkable effectiveness. Kostelanetz never had that. Let’s take as an example the recordings both made of a Porter standard: Night and Day.
Kostelanetz first recorded the song in January, 1942 (at present it can be heard in a CD called The Kostelanetz Touch on the label LIVING ERA, CD AJA 5422, issued in England) and it is a gorgeous arrangement (with echo sound, of course). Later on, in 1953, he recorded another version under much better technology (though not stereo yet) considered by many as an archetypal arrangement that influenced many arrangers of the period. More or less by the same year RCA issued the Morton Gould version, without question way more "symphonic" than the two Kostelanetz versions (the first one by Kosty himself and the second by one of his most qualified arrangers, Carrol Huxley). Both the latter version and that of Gould couldn’t be more different, yet they are both masterful.
All this material was issued on 78 rpm shellac records. LPs appeared around 1949 and both Columbia and RCA quickly transposed the 78s into 12 song LPs, which gave a greater impulse to Light Music, expanding the public’s knowledge about it and increasing sales. Anyone who had a record player by the late 40s or early 50s knew about the Andre Kostelanetz Orchestra, the Morton Gould Orchestra, the Percy Faith Orchestra, etc. What few people knew was that none of these remarkable musicians had an orchestra of their own! They all used the same musicians provided by the contractors who supplied them. In the case of the above named, they all worked with musicians from the New York Philharmonic.
That most composers and arrangers of Light Music were heavily influenced by jazz and blues cannot be disputed. Kostelanetz was an excellent jazz pianist, and so was Morton Gould. David Rose started as a jazz pianist, and most of his arrangements have jazz phrasing in them. What Rose had in common with Kostelanetz was his string sound, not because he sounded like Kostelanetz (which he didn’t) but because like Kostelanetz he was widely imitated but never equalled. Aware of the lush effect that Rose’s string writing projected in his mood numbers and the potential for public interest in it, Jackie Gleason, who never learned music theory but was a natural musician, hired arrangers such as Pete King and George Williams to imitate Rose’s string sound, all with the bending of those long legato phrasings and voicings and using a languid cornet played by Bobby Hackett. Capitol smelled money in it and they were right. Gleason and the label made millions on those LPs, but again, because he played the melody straight. Most of Gleason’s string albums are mediocre and repetitive, but as he himself stated: "What we have here is stick-to-the-melody pure vanilla…" clearly giving to understand he wasn’t interested in interesting music. He was interested in sales, and that he achieved most effectively. And Rose who inspired in him the idea, never achieved Gleason’s fame nor his financial success. He did pretty well for himself, but keeping his integrity and his belief in his music. Ironically, he became better known worldwide for his recording of "The Stripper", a song far removed from his own style and musical character.
And speaking of David Rose, I was touched by Donald Southwell’s interesting short article in JIM 167 about his acquaintance with Dave during a flight from Los Angeles to London in 1975 wherein he was informed by the master of strings himself on the reasons why he wrote The Stripper. I’m indeed grateful to Donald for clarifying matters for me with an explanation by Rose himself that appears plausible. There are of course other slightly different versions of the occurrence, like the one that states that Rose had recorded a single that required another song for the other side of the disc, and Dave’s producer slapped The Stripper on it. It is a well known fact that the commercial success of a record largely depends on disc jockeys playing it repeatedly. One of those DJs apparently liked The Stripper more than the other side of the single, and kept playing it. It suddenly took off, as it usually happens with that kind of superficial, meaningless, syncopated music used for stripping! No wonder Dave took years to finally come around and release it and that after a lot of pressure from his producers. In my article on David Rose on JIM 166 I do state that he probably wrote the song as a lark, and I’m amazed to read he used those exact words when referring the story to Mr. Southwell.
I must confess my envy about Donald’s precious opportunity to meet David Rose in a situation where he could talk to him at leisure. What a marvellous thing that was! I met Dave personally at Epcot Center, in Disney World, Florida in 1985. It was a brief encounter as he was walking through the open amphitheater towards the orchestra stage accompanied by the local orchestra director, so I could only briefly chat with him and wish him well after I mustered the courage to approach him and shake hands with him. But I too found him personable and possessing a great sense of humor. I was so sorry I could not a have a more extended moment with him, and I can well share Mr. Southwell’s delight at his meeting with someone who, through the years since I was a kid, had been, and continue to be, my favourite musician.
In comparing talented musicians of Light Music, it is impossible to neglect the British simply because their contribution to the genre is as enormous as it is beautiful. Robert Farnon was not British (except maybe by adoption), but comparisons cannot be applied to him. He was, in the words of Frank Sinatra, "the Guv’nor". There was no one quite like him and plenty has been said about him that makes it unnecessary to repeat here. Quite simply put, he was the best! But then came a host of others. By 1953 we had in Chile the arrival of The Melachrino Strings. I remember listening on the radio, around 1948, "Winter Sunshine" and "There’s a Tavern in Town", by the Melachrino orchestra, and loving them. Unfortunately, those records were not commercially distributed, and I couldn’t buy them. Stations got them by means of record exchanges with the BBC in London. Those arrangements included more than strings, though. Anyway, when RCA issued the Melachrino Strings in 45 rpm format later in 53’, they were a hit, and I did buy the records.
I had also been listening through the same BBC records played by radio stations the Ray Martin Orchestra, and it immediately caught my ear. There was something in the way Martin wrote strings that resembled David Rose, not so much in texture but rather in concept, especially in the mood numbers, and I was taken by it. In 1948 I heard an arrangement by Martin of a Mexican song by composer Manuel Ponce called Estrellita (Little Star). Around the same time MGM released the Rose version and I was amazed at the similarity in concept and sound. One would assume that someone plagiarized someone there. But we know better, don’t we? Neither Martin nor Rose needed to plagiarize anyone. The Rose version was issued in Chile on a 78 that had Intermezzo on the other side, and the latter arrangement does not resemble at all Martin’s arrangement of the song. I was able to acquire the MGM 78, but the Martin version of Estrellita I never heard again. In 1954, however, and to my delight, Columbia issued a 10 inch LP featuring Ray Martin arrangements! (most can be found now in a CD titled "Unforgettable, and Other Great Melodies", issued by EMI in Britain, and also a couple of CDs titled "Music in the Manner of Ray Martin", issued by Vocalion, CDLK 4105 and CDLK 4119, but no Estrellita on them, regrettably).
Being a Rose fan, I always found a sort of musical closeness between both composers. But I don’t even know if they ever met each other personally. Other 78s by Martin were also issued in my country those days, and one truly fascinated me: The Golden Trumpet, solo trumpet by Eddie Calvert (who had an incredible tone) with strings arranged by Ray Martin. It is a marvellous piece, and one cannot but wonder why both never recorded an LP together that would have been a smash hit. It would have been something vastly superior to what Jackie Gleason was doing in those days with great commercial success.
Martin’s version of Unforgettable, the Irving Gordon piece made into a hit by Nat King Cole is, to me at least, the best orchestral arrangement ever done of the song. Surprisingly very few other orchestras recorded it.
It appears that Martin was a busy body. Among other things, he became A & R man for the Columbia label in Britain, and his recording possibilities diminished probably due to lack of time. When he migrated to the USA under a contract by RCA in 1957, he recorded two LPs that showed great versatility, but that excluded mood numbers: Dynamica and Excitement, Inc. He had become known to USA listeners through a mood album that sold very well there: Rainy Night in London, recorded in London for Capitol and issued by EMI in Britain in 1956. What he did for RCA was excellent but entirely different and somewhat unusual, and commercial success wasn’t there. Eventually, he returned to Europe and recorded six LPs for Polydor, in France. To my mind, Ray Martin hit his peak in 1957 when he scored the music of a movie called It’s Great to be Young, which included a song called You Are my First Love, winner of the Ivor Novello Award and eventually recorded by Nat King Cole.
Stanley Black and Philip Green were excellent arranger/composers, but they never achieved a sound that was immediately recognizable, as did Melachrino, for instance. They probably weren’t interested in that. But Peter Yorke was another story. I cannot agree with a writer in JIM 164 that described his arrangements as "pile driving". Despite being a great arranger and musician, it is true that Yorke cannot be compared favourably with Robert Farnon. But then no one can, really. However, he had in his outfit someone Farnon didn’t have: Freddie Gardner playing alto sax. I remember one occasion in 1951 when a radio station was playing Yorke’ version of These Foolish Things, my father, who knew NOTHING about music and who cared even less about it, stopped dead at the sound Gardner got from his horn and asked me: "Who is that!..." There was something glorious about Gardner’s tone, a sound that fascinated even Duke Ellington! And Yorke came up with a device that made the sound of his outfit instantly recognizable: four clarinets playing in harmony with Freddie’s alto to produce a transparent, sweet, surging sound that conceptually resembled Glenn Miller’s reed sound. Tragically, Gardner’s death at age 39 deprived the orchestra of its distinctive sound, and it was never the same again. Still, what a joy it is to listen to those records by the Peter Yorke Orchestra with Freddie Gardner playing alto.
And one cannot mention British arrangers/composers without mentioning two unsung heroes: Malcolm Lockyer and William Hill-Bowen. Lockyer was, aside from Farnon, the only arranger who could make strings swing. His musical sense with respect to big bands was unequalled and his work with the Knightsbridge Strings is brilliant.
Hill-Bowen, on the other hand, was responsible for the sound of the Melachrino Strings that appeared only when he started arranging for George Melachrino. Hence it is only fair to state that he was responsible for Melachrino’s success, although George had already made quite a name for himself leaning on his considerable talent only.
It is well understood that music is a matter of personal taste, and what appears great to some is not that great to others. In the particular case of Light Music, tastes on the different orchestras and their leaders and arrangers vary widely, but some of those musicians seem to transcend the relativities of personal taste. A survey done around 1963 about the David Rose Orchestra, for instance, showed that every minute of every day at least one radio station in the USA was playing a David Rose selection. There was something about his sound that was incredibly catchy and beautiful, and his music was being used in 22 different television shows. Ditto for Robert Farnon. Every time I play one of his records for someone they are instantly fascinated, even when people are not particularly interested in Light Orchestral Music. One thing is clear, though: to all these musicians who graced airwaves and recording studios with their talent and sensitivity during the 40s, 50s and early 60s, we owe a debt of gratitude. They made the world a better, gentler, more musical place for all of humanity, and they shall not be forgotten.
This article first appeared in ‘Journal Into Melody’ June 2006.
YOUR ENJOYMENT OF VINTAGE LIGHT MUSIC COULD BE AT RISK
Take a look at your CD collection and note which ones contain recordings between fifty and seventy years old. To give you a clue – many releases by (in alphabetical order) Guild, Jasmine, Living Era, Naxos, Pearl and Vocalion fall into this category – and there are many more small British independent labels similarly affected. The major record companies are supporting attempts by ageing pop stars to get the period of sound copyright extended beyond the present 50 years, which would deprive many music lovers of a large amount of music. The British Government set up a committee to investigate the whole subject of copyright, and invited members of the public and interested parties to make their views known.
As the 21 April deadline for submissions to the Gowers Review approached, British radio and television audiences were subjected to a barrage of reports which were high on emotion, low on serious discussion, and notable for presentation of one-sided and questionable statements. Hopefully the educated people chosen by the Government will have approached their task with an open mind, in which case some of the submissions received from members of the Robert Farnon Society will have received fair consideration. No doubt this subject will rumble on for many months, as pressure groups attempt to sway the outcome, so in order to achieve a balance we reprint below part of the documents sent in by Alan Bunting and your Editor. If you agree with some of their comments, you may wish to make your feelings known to your MP, MEP or the press if it seems that there is still an opportunity to influence the final outcome.
David Ades began his submission by questioning the motives behind the current pressure groups seeking a change in the law.
I am concerned to note that there appears to be considerable pressure building up for an increase in the present 50-year period for sound copyright in the United Kingdom. Reports in the media indicate that certain people in the music business (1960s pop groups have been specifically mentioned) are lobbying the Government for a change, but what particularly worries me is that the public are being fed information with is often one-sided and shallow. I have yet to see a report on television which attempts to deal with this important matter in a serious manner, since there are far-reaching implications involved.
Sound recording has been around for well over 100 years. Why has the question of sound copyright suddenly arisen? In my view the copyright act of 1988 was a sensible piece of legislation which struck a fair balance, and I cannot accept that a change is now necessary. Of course, the entertainment business thrives on publicity, and the cynical among us might believe that the current controversy is doing some aged pop groups no harm. But to suggest that they are about to lose a significant amount of income when their original recordings are more than 50 years old is questionable, to say the least.
The public are not being informed that there is a difference between sound copyright (which is owned for 50 years by the company making the recording) and composer royalties (currently payable for a generous 70 years after the composer’s death). If we take pop groups as an example, many of them from the 1950s onwards used to perform music they composed themselves – the prime example being The Beatles. Their royalties will continue to be paid, whoever reissues their music on CDs or whatever formats may be used in the future to provide music.
From the outset, Alan Bunting made his objections to the proposals to extend sound copyright protection very clear:
I am writing to the Gowers Review to express my views on the specific subject of the record industry’s desire to extend the existing 50-year copyright period for sound recordings. I am opposed to this proposal on the grounds that it would not benefit the public and I would even argue that, under certain conditions, there is a case for the period to be reduced rather than extended.
The campaign the record industry has waged via trade magazines such as Music Week has rarely been equalled for the number of misleading and incorrect statements that have been made. Throughout their campaign they have failed to mention just what would be lost to a world wide record buying public and a significant number of composers if their wishes became reality.
The truth is that the record companies’ concerns are centred on a very small part of the material which is now approaching the present 50 year deadline. This is almost all "pop" material, recorded by the likes of The Beatles, The Rolling Stones, Cliff Richard, Elvis Presley et al and one can understand their wish to retain control of these recordings. The problem is that this 50 year old material they are so anxious to protect amounts to but a small fraction (probably less than 1%) of recordings of this vintage. If we consider all of the recordings which would be embraced by the sought for extension, then the figure is even smaller.
The record companies lobbying for a change have little or no interest whatsoever in the other 99% plus of their material that is more than 50 years old. Their accountants tell them that it is not cost effective for them to make it available to the substantial minority who wish to buy and listen to it. We are talking about hundreds of thousands of recordings spanning a wide range of differing musical genres – dance bands, singers, jazz, light orchestral music, brass bands, military bands, film music, folk music, spoken word, opera, musicals and classical music covering a period from the 1920s to the 1950s. The desire of people to hear this music again, which they usually last heard on scratchy 78s, has resulted in a significant number of British and European companies that specialise in restoring and re-mastering onto CD large amounts of this material. These CDs sell in sufficient quantities for such companies to make a reasonable return from material in which the mainstream record industry has lost all interest – indeed they often do not know that they made these recordings in the first place!
These specialist companies operate quite legally. They also pay the royalties due on the music on these CDs. This generates a significant income for composers and arrangers, many of whom would currently have no income whatsoever if they had to rely on royalties from those seeking an extension. I doubt if the record companies have mentioned this in any of their submissions.
Just one of these specialist British labels, Living Era, has a catalogue of over 500 CDs, most of which sell all over the world in large quantities, the majority containing material that the major record companies would not even consider re-issuing.
If we take into account the catalogues of the dozens of smaller re-issue labels in Britain and Europe, then we are talking about several thousand CDs containing "forgotten" music which generates revenue for composers and music publishers and provides much pleasure for those who purchase it. BPI Executive chairman Peter Jamieson is on record as saying "I can’t see that it benefits anyone not to extend it" – he appears to be completely unaware of these royalties being paid to composers and music publishers.
He also seems to think that the companies, and the hundreds of people who make a perfectly honest living restoring these old recordings, writing the booklets, doing the art-work, and re-issuing them would "benefit" from losing their livelihoods! And we should also consider the pressing plants, the wholesalers and the retailers whose turnover is enhanced by these re-issues.
More importantly, extension of the copyright in these recordings would result in this music being lost forever because, and I can’t emphasise this enough, the major record companies have no interest whatsoever in making this material available should they win. Do we really wish to deny thousands of people the pleasure of listening to it simply because these companies want to protect the recordings of a handful of "pop" artists? Doubtless such deprivation would be considered another "benefit" by the BPI.
The PPL’s Director of government relations Dominic McGonical said at a DTI seminar at the beginning of March: "There would be thousands of musicians right now who would benefit straight away from extension of copyright". He should be challenged to substantiate this reckless statement.
Who are these "thousands of musicians"? Maybe a handful of pop singers would benefit and a few star names from the classical world, but the "musicians" (i.e. backing groups, choruses, orchestral players etc.) would have been paid a one-off fee for the recording and receive neither royalties nor a percentage share of sales revenue. Even many solo artists were forced into contracts where the main beneficiary from sales was the record company rather than the artist. I would also suggest that, for the majority of pre-1950s recordings, the artists concerned are either dead or untraceable and therefore the only ones to gain from re-issues of this material would again be the record companies. In any case, the claim completely ignores the fact that these "thousands" would only benefit if the record companies chose to re-issue their recordings and, in most cases, this is unlikely to say the least.
Research in America shows that the extension there has had little effect on the re-issue programmes of the major record companies. The net effect therefore was to considerably reduce the choice of recordings available to the public. The same would apply in Europe - an extension of the copyright would have little or no effect on the amount of back catalogue issued by the major record companies so, despite their bold claims, few artists would gain anything and the public would undoubtedly be the losers.
It is worth considering this extract from the American survey:
The argument was made that giving the companies such lengthy ownership would encourage them to preserve and reissue older recordings. With nearly 30 years of experience, however, it is now clear that nothing of the sort has happened. My own recent study of early African-American recordings (surely a field of interest) reveals that only one half of one percent of covered recordings made prior to 1920 have been reissued by the copyright holders (Brooks, Lost Sounds 10). Another study indicates that of the pre-1965 recordings of greatest interest to scholars and collectors, those listed in major discographies, only 14 percent are made available by rights holders, and for recordings made prior to the 1940s the percentage dwindles to almost nothing (Brooks, "Sound Recording"). Undeterred by such experience (or ignorant of it) Congress in 1998 passed the now-notorious "Sonny Bono Copyright Term Extension Act," lengthening all the terms in the original act by 20 years. Now no covered recordings will pass into the public domain until 2067.
I suggest that the following questions be asked of each of the record company representatives:
1. How many recordings more than 50 years old are there in your current catalogue?
2. What percentage of your more than 50 years old recordings does this represent?
3. What percentage of your recordings have not been available for purchase for thirty years or more?
I can assure you that the answers to these questions will severely embarrass the record companies and considerably weaken their case for an extension – for example the answer to question 2 will be less than 1% and to question 3 it will be in excess of 99%. For some companies the answer to question 1 will be "none".
They could then be asked a supplementary question – "If this extension is so essential, then why do your answers reveal a total lack of interest in re-issuing the vast majority of old recordings?"
Despite my objections, I have no desire to prevent the record companies winning a copyright extension if, in return, they would undertake to make all of their recordings available to members of the public who wish to purchase them. However, as most of the recordings outside the "pop" field currently being re-issued by third parties haven’t been available from the original copyright owner for the past 50 years and, in many cases, 70 or 80 years, the chances of the original record companies ever re-issuing them are slim.
Of course, in reality, there is little need for an extension at all. There is nothing to stop the major companies from re-releasing their own recordings that are more than 50 years old. Provided that they have looked after their archives they should have the master tapes or pristine pressings of the discs in their vaults. This places them at a considerable advantage compared with the independent labels who usually have to rely on second hand copies of the discs, which are usually less than perfect. If the majors kept this material available, attractively packaged and reasonably priced, there would be no reason for any independents to want to get in on the act and duplicate these reissues.
However, except for the recordings of a (very) few pop artists, the record companies don’t currently do this (and never have), so why should an extension of copyright change anything, except to deprive the public of music they want to hear and ageing composers of an income?
There has been some suggestion that, should a change be made, it should be retrospective (i.e. apply to recordings which were already out of copyright the day the legislation is passed).
I find this not only unbelievable but totally unacceptable. Surely this would be akin to allowing a company to renew an expired patent on, say, an industrial process with all the ramifications and problems that such an action would cause? And what if the next step was to allow pharmaceutical companies to retrospectively re-patent drugs which are currently being manufactured cheaply and are saving lives all over the world? Some will dismiss this as pure fancy, but my view is that corporate greed knows no bounds and it wouldn’t surprise me one jot to see the extension of recording copyright being quoted as a precedent for further, potentially much more serious, claims.
Therefore, any extension should not be retrospective. i.e. any recording that is 50 years or more old on the day the legislation is passed remains out of copyright.
In addition to the above, I suggest that if the record companies insist on pursuing this matter then, in return for a copyright extension, they should be forced to agree to the following:
Recordings that have been unavailable for purchase for 30 years or more should come out of copyright as they are obviously not considered to be of any significant commercial value by the owning company. It is worth noting that there are thousands of LPs, most of which are less than 30 years old, that have never appeared on CD because the record companies don’t consider the sales would justify it – so why should anything more than 30 years old be they be protected if it has been ignored for so long? Such a change would generate much extra income for the composers concerned.
The copyright should only remain valid if the recording continues to be available for purchase by the public. With so many recordings in existence there would have to be some leeway here – perhaps along the lines of a condition that recordings should not be out of the catalogue for more than 5 years at a time.
The record companies also claim that a copyright extension would generate funds that they would use to promote new artists. Frankly, if anyone believes that, they probably also believe in flying pigs! The record industry’s track record in this area is abysmal and the way that they have treated artists over the years disgraceful. Perhaps everyone should read Louis Barfe’s excellent book "Where Have All The Good Times Gone – The Rise And Fall Of The Record Industry" before making a judgement on whether the record industry deserve a copyright extension.
Finally, I would urge the Review to constantly bear in mind that the motivation for requesting this extension is based on the paranoid desire of the major record companies to protect a few "pop" titles which represent but a fraction of a percent of the recordings which any change in copyright would affect.
The fact that an extension of the copyright period would effectively prevent public access to well over 90% of the music ever recorded and thus deprive Europe of its musical heritage and history does not concern them in the slightest.
Much of David Ades’ report to the Gowers Review made similar points (so it will not be repeated here), although in a few areas his recommendations were slightly different in emphasis and detail:
It has been claimed that the record companies continue to make payments to artists for recordings over 50 years old, and that this money would be ‘lost’ if the same music was reissued by independent labels. The record companies should be required to provide written proof to support this statement. From my knowledge many of them used contracts around 50 years ago that involved single payments to the musicians for the session, with minimal royalties being paid to the main artist named on the label for a stated period. I would go further to suggest that it is unlikely that documentation still exists in the majority of cases that would allow the record companies to calculate such continuing payments, in the unlikely event that they wished to do so.
One aspect which seems to have escaped attention from the media is: ‘why should independent labels wish to reissue old material’? The simple answer is because it has been ignored for many years by the major record companies. It is a well-known fact that accountants are in control, and recordings are deleted (often with indecent haste) as soon as sales slip below a certain figure. This can happen in as little as two years after the release of a disc, which means that probably as many as 90% of recordings can remain unavailable for up to 48 years until they fall into the public domain. This means that the composers of the music are deprived of royalties for their work. When reissued by independents, the royalties start flowing again.
Another factor which is escaping attention is the blindingly obvious fact that there is nothing to stop the original record companies from continuing to make their recordings available after 50 years have elapsed. If they wish to be generous to their former artists, they can continue making payments to them, over and above the composer royalties. It would be interesting to know how often this happens. To take The Beatles as an example, if EMI continue to reissue their recordings attractively packaged, and reasonably priced, why would an independent label wish to duplicate such material? EMI possess the master tapes and (provided that they have carefully looked after them – this is not always the case with every company) they are in a privileged position to be able to produce a superior product that could not be matched by an independent.
The truth is that the independents are often better at exploiting the archives than the record companies themselves. Having worked in both, I can confirm that a small company will take greater pains to use modern digital technology to produce sound quality that is often superior. The big companies have large overheads, and they cannot allow their sound engineers sufficient time to devote to sound restoration. This is an area where a growing number of small British companies excel, and their expertise is recognised internationally.
Yet these independents are, in the majority of cases, only dealing with recordings for a small minority of collectors who have long been ignored by the record companies. Make no mistake – sound restoration is an expensive business, and the small independents are certainly not making a fortune out of old recordings. The majors are simply not interested in releasing CDs unless they sell in tens of thousands, yet the dedicated enthusiasts who operate the small independent labels can survive with sales in the hundreds. They are providing a valuable extra dimension to the music scene, and preserving a culture for our country that might otherwise be completely lost.
Another reason why collectors find the independent labels appealing is the research which goes into providing detailed information in the booklets inside the CDs. Reading many of these it is clear that the CD has been produced as a labour of love; the corresponding booklets in many CDs from the major companies are poor in comparison.
I would summarise my main objections to an increase in the present 50 year period for sound copyright as follows:
1. 50 years is a reasonable (even generous) period of time in which record companies can recoup the cost of their recordings.
2. A change to more than 50 years would deprive many composers of the royalties upon which they rely, and which are paid by independent companies who reissue their material.
3. If the major record companies continue to release their older recordings, there is no attraction for small independent companies to duplicate such CDs, and probably lose money as a result.
4. A number of older singers have enjoyed a welcome revival of interest in their music as a result of independent CDs. This might not have happened if their fate had remained in the hands of the major companies.
5. The British independent labels have gained an international reputation for the quality of their work, which has generated valuable export sales that could be lost if the period for sound copyright is extended.
In conclusion I would make two important points. If it is decided to increase the period for sound copyright I urge you to insist that it is not made retrospective, and that a reasonable period of grace is allowed before any change is implemented. A date of 1960 would not seem unreasonable, with all recordings prior to that still being subject to the present 50-year period of sound copyright.
As an alternative to a blanket extension of sound copyright, a more equitable solution may be to allow recordings to fall into the public domain if they have not been made available by the original record company for at least two years during a certain period of time – I would suggest 25 years would be fair. This would allow independent labels to continue making available in relatively small quantities recordings of a minority interest that the record companies have long decided is of no further interest to them.
Editor: I apologise to any readers who may feel that too much room in the magazine has been taken up with this matter. However I know that many of you share my strong feelings on this subject, and we are talking about the distinct possibility that many of the records we currently choose to purchase may no longer be available to us in the future. Too often poor and unsatisfactory legislation gets enacted because people are apathetic and do not appreciate the full implications. Hopefully this feature will have alerted many of you to what is currently under threat.
This article first appeared in ‘Journal Into Melody’ June 2006.
The story behind an important series of Light Music CDs
THE GOLDEN AGE OF LIGHT MUSIC
Revealed by ALAN BUNTING
By the time you read this Guild Music’s Golden Age Of Light Music series will be celebrating its second birthday and number 23 volumes containing no fewer than 537 historic recordings, most of which have never been on CD before. Until now these treasures were the exclusive domain of the privileged few lucky enough to own the original 78s (and in a few cases, LPs and 45s) and, of course, the means to play them.
David Ades and I are jointly responsible for the series and we are often asked how we go about producing them, so this is an attempt to take you ‘behind the scenes’ and provide some answers.
In November 2003 Kaikoo Lalkaka of Guild Music in Switzerland approached David about the possibilities of producing a series of vintage light music CDs that would appeal to enthusiasts around the world. Guild already had a very successful series of Historical Classical CD re-issues as well as an extensive catalogue of modern recordings, ranging from choral and organ music to jazz, and thought that some re-issues of light music from the past would sit well alongside these. Naturally David reacted to the suggestion with enthusiasm and, as we had recently collaborated on some similar CDs for Living Era, suggested to Guild that I should come on board to do the restoration and re-mastering. This was agreed and a target of March 2004 was set for the first three issues.
Working with Guild has been a very pleasurable experience because David and I have total control over the content and sound of each CD. At the outset we agreed on some parameters for the series. Each CD would be themed and would be multi-artist, although we later broke this rule when, at Guild’s suggestion, we produced the two Mantovani compilations. We also decreed that there would not be any vocals and that an "orchestra" would always have a string section, although discerning listeners will discover that we have also broken this rule on a couple of occasions. It was originally envisaged that the series would be totally orchestral but one day Kaikoo casually mentioned that he rather fancied a CD featuring bands. Once we were over the shock, and despite some initial reservations, we realised that there was much light music specially written for brass and military ensembles. The outcome of our research was "Bandstand In The Park", one of the most enjoyable and interesting CDs in the collection.
The most important rule we imposed on ourselves was that every CD would comprise mainly recordings which were appearing on CD for the first time with, to the best of our knowledge, never more than five previously issued tracks on any volume. Bearing in mind the modest selling price we felt that, even if a prospective buyer already had all of the duplicate tracks (very unlikely), they would still be getting 20 to 25 new tracks for around 8 pounds which represents very good value. In fact, we have so far managed to exceed our target on every CD with several volumes having no duplicate tracks at all.
We had one correspondent who challenged this but it turned out that he thought we were claiming none of the music had been on CD before! For us, one of the pleasures of producing this series has been tracking down alternative versions of favourite pieces, often in better performances than the best selling version – good examples of this are the Orchestre Raymonde’s Decca recordings of "The Horseguards – Whitehall" and "Runaway Rocking Horse". Naturally, there will be no duplication of recordings within the series itself.
The duplicate tracks rule also caused problems with "Mantovani By Special Request Volume 2" when we discovered that another company was about to issue all of his 1951 to 1955 tracks as a 4 CD set. Although we had already chosen and re-mastered 12 of these we decided to avoid any duplication and changed Volume 2 to be exclusively "pre-Charmaine" recordings. We now think that it’s a better compilation because of this, although we know that some purchasers were disappointed to find that there were no longer any "cascading strings" – but now they know why!
The other rules have also caused the odd problem. The most unexpected one was when I had carefully edited out a (not very good) vocal selection from one of the tracks on "Theatre And Cinema Orchestras Volume 1" only for David to receive a letter from someone who had bought the CD especially for this recording. Naturally he was very disappointed to discover that the vocals weren’t there but he was delighted to receive, with our compliments, a specially "put back together" version on CD-R, a level of service one is unlikely to receive from the major record companies!
Now on to the "how it’s done" bit. Once we have decided on a theme, usually chosen from a list made up by David (although I have been known to contribute the odd one) David produces a list of potential titles, most of which he has in his collection. He sends it to me, together with what recordings he has and I will add a few suggestions, some of which I will have. Thus we generally end up with a list of up to 40 proposals, some of which we now have to find. This is where our network of collector friends around the world comes in. Most are members of the Society and are so numerous that it is impossible to name them all here – but their names appear in the booklets of the Guild CDs to which they have contributed and their help is invaluable. Between them I estimate that they own several hundred thousand 78s and, so far, we have always managed to track down everything we have set our hearts on for inclusion. Some titles are the result of requests from RFS members and others, often accompanied by the offer of loan of the recording.
As shipping fragile 78s around the world is a risky business, much of the material is dubbed by the owner and comes to me on either CD or MiniDisc. Many people express surprise when they hear this, but all those involved have very good record playing equipment and are capable of making good transfers. MiniDisc is probably the least understood and most under rated recording medium ever, and many Hi-Fi fanatics are amazed to hear that a large number of the tracks on each CD are sent to me on this medium. Incidentally, I prefer transfers to be done in stereo, even though the recordings are mono – the difference in background noise between left and right channels is sometimes quite dramatic, so the options of using the least-worn side of the groove or combining them when I do the restoration can be very helpful.
At this stage I do a basic restoration of the recordings, rejecting any which are not going to meet our technical standards and send David a couple of CD-Rs from which he will make a final selection and produce a tentative running order. Once I know which tracks we are going to use I then carry on with the full audio restoration process and make a first listening copy of the CD. At this point it is still possible that some tracks may not make it because David and I have an agreement that, if I can’t get the sound of any track up to my self-imposed standards, then I have the right of veto. On the other hand, no matter how much I might dislike a track musically, provided it sounds OK, the final word is David’s. Surprisingly, I can’t think of a single occasion when we have had any disagreement over the final track selection.
We are very critical when it comes to the sound of The Golden Age. I do all of the restoration work using very high quality Sennheiser HD600 headphones fed by a Technics SU-3500 amplifier and, when I am satisfied, I listen to the results on several loudspeaker systems. First a pair of KEF 105s, then some Wharfedale Lintons and finally the £30 mini system in the kitchen. If all is well I send another listening copy off to David who listens equally critically. He usually comes back with some very diplomatically phrased suggestions that this track or that track might be improved in some way or another and so we hone and refine, some tracks passing back and forth three or four times for further appraisal and modification before we are both satisfied. It is not unknown for us to reject a track altogether at this stage and attempt to find another copy or, in extremis, substitute another piece. Perhaps I should, at this point, insert a little commercial for the Post Office. David is in Somerset, I am in Scotland but, despite the 400 plus miles separating us, we invariably get next day delivery of the large quantities of material we post to each other.
One of the problems with restoration is that, until you actually run a track through the system it is almost impossible to judge how good or bad the final result will be. The other problem is that that, as you remove the clicks, crackle and the "shash" noise from the shellac, all sorts of nasties are revealed, ranging from hum to background noises and assorted bangs and clatters made by the musicians. A classic example is the Lionel Jeffries track on GLCD 5106, which is a location recording and, in the quiet passages, people can be heard talking in the background. Many recordings also have the odd wrong note or bad bit of playing but it’s often possible to lift the same phrase from somewhere else in the recording and substitute it. The opening notes on many 78s often suffer from excessive wear – I won’t reveal how many tracks in the series have had the opening re-created by lifting the same notes from elsewhere in the piece! Many Guild tracks have been "stitched together" by using different parts of several different copies of the disc. Some recordings end very abruptly, especially on early LPs where the master tape has been viciously edited. In such cases a judicious amount of reverberation, carefully chosen to match the original sound is added to the final chord. Recordings that are judged to be too "dry" also have a small amount of overall reverberation added.
As I’m often asked what equipment and processes I use for restoration here’s a list – most readers should skip this paragraph. There’s an EMT 938 Turntable with half a dozen Shure SC35C cartridges equipped with a selection of styli (for mono and stereo LPs plus varying sizes for 78s). MiniDiscs are played on a Sony MDS-JB920, DAT tapes on a Tascam DA-30 MkII, CDs on a vintage Sony CDP-970, cassettes on a Nakamichi Dragon and tapes, depending on speed, track configuration and size are taken care of by either a Technics RS-1506 or a Sony TC-377. The outputs of these are fed via a Behringer Eurorack pro Mixer and Yamaha YDP 2006 Parametric Equaliser into the Cedar De-Click, De-Crackle and De-Clickle boxes. A Behringer Ultramatch Pro Analogue to Digital / Digital to Analogue is used to handle the feeds to the computer and monitoring. The computer uses an EM-U 1212 professional sound card and Minnetonka Software’s Fast Edit 4 for the actual recording and editing process. Further processing is done on the computer using Adobe Audition, Sony Sound Forge, Red Roaster and Sound Laundry. Reverberation when required comes from a Lexicon digital stand-alone system. The CD masters are prepared using Sony’s CD Creator and recorded on a PlexWriter Premium drive.
I have to be honest here and say that most of my restorations of 78s are probably not appreciated by the "purists". It is my belief that most people buying this series have only ever heard 78s played on a radiogram or a modern hi-fi, probably using equalisation more suited to modern LPs than vintage 78s and expect the CD version to sound the same, so this is the sound I aim for. I also attempt to create a certain uniformity between tracks so that, although a 1920s recording may come immediately after a 1950s one, the listener is not aware of a jarring difference. There are no hard and fast rules – what I do is probably best described as "messing about" with the sound until I’m happy.
While I carry on with the easy bit (not always that easy when being "assisted" by a large Bernese Mountain Dog and an even larger St. Bernard), David has the far harder task of writing the booklet notes. Finding something new to say about Haydn Wood when we are featuring him for the umpteenth time becomes more and more difficult, especially when you know that many people have every previous Golden Age CD in their collection.
David will then send me a draft of the booklet as a Microsoft Word document (without the Internet and e-mail this series would never have happened!) for me to comment on and possibly add information. We usually get through two or three drafts before David is happy.
At this stage Kaikoo at Guild has no idea what we have been cooking up for his next release other than the overall title – he’s a very trusting sort of fellow! So it’s time for me to send a listening copy off to Switzerland and for David to send the booklet information. Assuming that he likes it (and we haven’t had one rejected yet, so we must be doing something right!) Kaikoo and his wife Silvia then choose a suitable cover picture and this and the notes will be sent to designer Paul Brooks in Oxford who is responsible for the very attractive books and inlays which, with their uniform style, have contributed immensely to the success of the series.
When Paul has done his stuff, Silvia e-mails proofs of the booklets and inlays to David and myself as Adobe Acrobat files for us to check and amend if necessary. Again we may go through this process two or three times until everyone is happy.
Meanwhile Silvia, who is also Guild’s Financial Director, deals with the time consuming but essential matter of sorting out royalty payments for the composers and arrangers via SUISA (the Swiss equivalent of the British MCPS). Perhaps it should be made clear that, although composer royalties are payable on most tracks, all the recordings used in the series are more than 50 years old which means that they are, under current European law, out of copyright.
It’s now time for me to make the master CD which is used by the pressing plant to make the glass master used to produce the CDs. This is sent to Peter Reynolds Mastering in Colchester where Peter checks that all the coding I have put on the CD for timing, tracks starts, pauses etc. matches the Table Of Contents I have produced to go with it, and that it fully complies with the Red Book standards. If all is well it’s sent to the pressing plant where it meets up with the booklets and inlays that have come from a specialist printer and the finished CDs are shipped to Priory for distribution. Meanwhile David and I (and Kaikoo and Silvia!) keep our fingers crossed that someone is going to buy them and enjoy them.
Footnote by David Ades: I would just like to add two points to Alan’s ‘history’ of the Guild Light Music CDs. Firstly mention must be made of the fact that it was Paul Brooks (of Design & Print, Oxford) who mentioned my name to Kaikoo Lalkaka when he was considering a new series of CDs concentrating on light music. I had previously worked with Paul on CD booklets, so he was aware of my interest in this area of the music scene. Secondly I cannot find enough words to praise and thank Alan Bunting for his expertise in making these old recordings sound so good. More than that, Alan has been invaluable in making many helpful suggestions regarding repertoire, and he has also been responsible for tracking down some elusive tracks. Without his enthusiasm and unfailing support, my job would be so much more difficult, and it is not an exaggeration to say that some of the CDs we have released so far would never have seen the light of day. I am indeed very fortunate to be able to rely upon so many kind and generous people who have all helped to make the Guild ‘Golden Age of Light Music’ series such an important part of today’s light music scene.
From ‘Journal Into Melody’ March 2006
Forrest Patten sets the scene for his interview with one of the most highly respected, and talented, American composers and arrangers
In the world of music, Neal Hefti has done it all. As a composer, arranger and conductor, he has contributed to some of the most memorable musical icons of the twentieth century. Had Neal only composed "Girl Talk" (from the film Harlow), the "Batman Theme" (from the campy 60’s action TV series starring Adam West), or the sauntering theme from the film and television versions of The Odd Couple, his place in musical history would have been solidified then and there. But there was so much more. There were all of those great Basie charts and originals. There were the Sinatra arrangements. And who can ever forget the musical accompaniment to Jack Lemmon’s surprise when Virna Lisi popped out of a cake in the movie How To Murder Your Wife? It’s one thing to come up with great melodies; it’s another to create great arrangements. Neal Hefti is a master of both.
In June, 2005, ASCAP (the American Society Of Composers, Authors and Publishers) inducted Neal as an honorary member of the ASCAP Jazz Wall Of Fame.
Today, Neal enjoys tending to his musical garden: the care and feeding of over 500 copyrights. On September 7, 2004, Neal joined us for a very special interview in Studio City, California as a part of Frank Comstock’s Summit. In his own words (and exclusively for Journal Into Melody), here is Neal’s story.
FORREST PATTEN: Neal, musically speaking, how did it all begin?
NEAL HEFTI: I received a trumpet for Christmas when I was about 10 years old. My parents’ thought was to have all the boys learn a band instrument. During those days, the high schools were connected with the R.O.T.C. (Reserve Officers' Training Corps) who gave us uniforms. That meant that our cash-strapped family would not have to buy clothes for the boys. Also, if we were drafted into the service, we would be in the band and not the infantry. My mother thought that it might help protect her boys. My two older brothers played the sax and clarinet. I fell in love with the trumpet.
I learned the instrument ranges and transpositions at age 12, when I started trumpet lessons at the local music store. It had a Conn instrument chart posted on the wall, showing all the instruments they made and the various ranges of each, starting with the piccolo and going all the way down to the tuba.
In high school, I played in the orchestra, the concert band, the marching band, and what they called, "the swing band." I started arranging music for the territorial dance bands of that day for the biggest Midwestern booking agency, Howard White. I was arranging for three or four bands. I didn’t know quite how to do it, but I learned with the help of my older brother, John.
FP: Who were your inspirations in the beginning?
NH: My inspirations really centered on the orchestras of that time. Duke Ellington, Jimmy Lunceford, Count Basie, Charlie Barnet, Glen Gray, Glenn Miller, Tommy Dorsey and Artie Shaw. There were also two British bands, Ambrose and Ray Noble. Ray Noble played a week in Omaha, at the Orpheum Theater. After attending the show, I said to myself that if I ever became an orchestra leader, that's the kind of orchestra, I would want. Besides Duke Ellington, arrangers included Billy May, Billy Moore, Sy Oliver and Axel Stordahl.
When I was growing up, my favorite bands, besides the organized ones that would tour, were the ones I heard on the radio, like The Jack Benny Show and The Bing Crosby Show. I thought that conductors like John Scott Trotter were fabulous, fine musicians. Later I had the privilege to tell them how much I enjoyed their music.
FP: Neal, tell us about those early recordings for the Vik, Coral and Epic labels. That all really started in the 1940's didn't it?
NH: No, it started in the 50’s. During the forties, there were two recording strikes by the American Federation of Musicians. I recorded during that period mostly with Woody Herman, when he was with Columbia. While I was with Woody Herman, I married Woody's singer, Frances Wayne. Frances and I then concentrated on our own career away from the band. We settled in New York and soon had two children. I became a studio conductor. Whatever the studio wanted me to do, I learned how. I loved conducting, and I loved the music. So as a studio conductor/ arranger, I went directly into the recording world. I worked primarily at Decca/Coral, RCA/Vik and Columbia/ Epic. I did big band, vocal "doo-wahs," pop artists and catalog music.
FP: How much composing were you able to do at that time?
NH: A lot. When I began writing, I started with my own original instrumentals. Woody Herman recorded about five or six of them. Later I must have written about 20 pieces for Harry James.
FP: Let’s talk about your years with Count Basie.
NH: He was one of the artists I wrote for. At the time, he had a six piece band - three rhythm and three horns. I was working on some music for Columbia/ Epic at the time and I was approached by George Avakian to do four sides for Basie. I wrote two standards that Basie chose, plus two originals. Then Basie went with Norman Granz/ Verve Records, and re-organized his big band. I was asked to do four to five originals a year for him. Norman was mainly responsible for promoting and recording the new Count Basie big band. He also managed Ella Fitzgerald at that time.
It was late 1957 that I did The Atomic Basie album. Up to that time, I think he recorded maybe 25 of my originals. I also recorded a lot of my tunes with my own band, as well as with Frances. There were about seven bandleaders that the record companies tried to promote at the time. I was one of them, along with The Elgart Brothers, Ralph Flanagan, Richard Maltby, Ralph Marterie, Billy May and Sauter-Finnigan. The idea in building these studio bands was to promote the idea of bringing the big bands back. In my estimation, the big band era was over after WWII.
FP: Neal, when you were working for multiple labels at one time, did you ever have to write under a pseudonym for contractual reasons?
NH: I did one time. I was conducting for a Patti Andrews recording. I was on Coral and she was on the parent company, Decca, so they came up with the name "Paul Nielsen." Paul is actually my middle name. After that, they didn't care if my name bounced from one in-house label to the other.
FP: From your vast repertoire, do you have a favorite personal recording?
NH: We always remember our very first. The first was the best for me. It was called Coral Reef. It was a minor hit or what they called a turntable hit. A lot of disc jockeys used it as a theme song to open their shows.
FP: Let's talk about your music for The Odd Couple.
NH: We moved to California in the mid-sixties to compose film music. Most of the films that I did were at Paramount. They gave me a couple of Neil Simon films to work on. The first was Barefoot in the Park. It was a huge success and broke records. The next one they gave me was The Odd Couple, which broke the previous record. For The Odd Couple, I wrote this sort of forlorn piece for the movie. Every time it was heard, Jack Lemmon was trying to "end it all," because of his divorce. (The soundtrack album received two Grammy nominations.)
FP: It certainly is a well known theme. It started in film, then TV, and more recently, it's been used as a background for various commercial spots. How did you ever come up with that melody?
NH: You have to work on melodies. I don't have to work that hard on the orchestration. But melodies are something else. Sometimes I'd compose music in bed and Frances would tell me to stop playing piano on her back. I guess I write most of the tunes while lying down. And I don't really feel that I've finished it until I personally like it and can hum it to myself. In most cases, I know what harmonies I'm going to use. I'll then go to the piano and try to improve on the chords and so forth. But the more you write, the more naturally you can hear the harmonies. The melodies, though, take a lot of time.
FP: Over the years, I've heard "the Neal Hefti format" to a number of pieces, especially those that were written during the Basie years. It usually starts with a musical phrase, then goes into a percussive break and returns to the melody again. I've heard this style imitated by a number of composers.
NH: Basie told me himself that when he had people writing for his band, he'd tell them to "write like Neal."
FP: The Hefti standard, Girl Talk, from the film Harlow. Tell us about that one.
NH: That was the name of the scene in the film. Harlow was making the transition from "silents" to "talkies" and was barnstorming around the country taking questions from the press. I wrote the piece simply for that scene. When we did the soundtrack album, the disc jockeys started playing Girl Talk, more than the main theme. (My instrumental from the soundtrack album also received two Grammy nominations)
FP: And, of course, there was the theme music from the TV series, Batman.
NH: That one came very hard to me. It took me a couple of months to write. I had seen some footage and I knew how outrageous it had to be. So I needed to write a piece of music that was equally so. Well, when I first took the theme in to demonstrate it for Lionel Newman and the series producer at Twentieth Century Fox, I had to sing it and play it on the piano. Well, I'm no singer, and I'm no pianist. But I had Lionel and the producer, Bill Dozier, listening to me. My first thought was that they were going to throw me out, very quickly, but as I was going through it, I heard them both reacting with statements like, "Oh, that's kicky. That will be good in the car chase." My father, (a salesman) once told me, "If they say okay, get out of there before they change their mind." When I saw Bill smiling, then I knew we had it.
FP: RCA Victor released the TV soundtrack music from Batman. Not too long after, they released a follow-up album called Hefti in Gotham City. The lead track from that album is one of my favorite, Neal Hefti compositions titled, Gotham City Municipal Swing Band. For many years, that piece was used as a theme for a popular San Francisco, Saturday night TV movie program, called Creature Features.
NH: I sort of like that tune. I'm happy with my Batman collection. As I said, the theme was hard to come by. Originally, RCA released a single with Batman Theme on one side and Batman Chase on the other. They called and said, "Neal, this record is doing really well, (it won a Grammy that year) we've got to come out with an album right away." So over a weekend, I had to come up with ten more tunes. They already had an album cover and liner notes in progress. They had the musicians and the studio booked. Because I had already written the first one (agonizing over it for months), writing the ten follow-up tunes, turned out to be easier. The first album did very well on the charts. So RCA said we had to come up with a sequel. For Hefti in Gotham City, I had to write twelve more pieces. That included our mutual favorite, Gotham City Municipal Swing Band.
FP: Neal, you've accompanied a number of singers over the years. Do you have a favorite?
NH: Frances. When we got married and left Woody Herman's band, I wish I could have written for just the two of us. We couldn't seem to connect however, either together or alone. I tell people that our number one, major cardinal unforgivable sin, was that neither one of us ever made a million selling record. That would have changed everything.
FP: Any comments about Frank Sinatra?
NH: He was the last singer that I wrote for. After that I wrote for movies. When I was with Frank Sinatra’s company, Reprise, I was their first producer. Truthfully, I had never really been a producer, and they knew that. I told them that I would stay in that position until they found somebody. It took about two years until Sonny Burke joined - he was exactly what they needed. I really liked working for Reprise and Frank. He was such a good singer and there were never any problems. Besides myself, he had also recorded with Axel Stordahl, Nelson Riddle, Gordon Jenkins, Billy May, Johnny Mandel, Sy Oliver, Don Costa, Quincy Jones, Pat Williams and Robert Farnon. If Sinatra chose you to conduct, you'd consider it quite an honor. It was just beautiful working with him.
FP: You've mentioned quite a few important conductors and arrangers here. Does anyone stand out in your opinion?
NH: I did an interview with Peter Levinson, for a book he was writing in which I told him that I felt that Nelson Riddle should be considered, "conductor emeritus" for Frank Sinatra. I included myself in there, too. Nelson, however, was a part of what I called, "The Trinity." That included him, Capitol Records, and From Here to Eternity. They all happened in about the same year. Those three things in succession launched Frank into orbit. And nothing would shoot him down from that point on.
FP: In looking at today's artists, whom do you favor?
NH: Of the newcomers, I like Chris Botti, Natalie Cole, Laura Fygi, Norah Jones, Keb’Mo, Diana Krall, KD Lang, Rod Stewart, Sting and Steve Tyrell.
FP: What about today’s film composers?
NH: Johnny Williams. I think he's as good as they come.
FP: So Neal, what are you up to today?
NH: Taking care of my catalog. I started doing this about 18 years ago. Frances passed and I raised the children and put them through school. With all of that going on, I decided to concentrate on family and take care of my copyrights starting back when I recorded with Woody Herman and going all the way through The Odd Couple and beyond.
FP: If students or other musicians would like to study your scores, do you have plans to make them available?
NH: Most scores of mine are at Paramount, in their music library. I don’t know what their studio policy is for students studying their scores, scripts and so forth.
FP: Neal, do you have a personal message that you'd like to convey to Robert Farnon?
NH: Robert Farnon, you have an impeccable reputation here in the States. I first heard of you from a friend of mine in New York. Marion Evans. He had your albums and would tell me, "That’s the man!" I think as a fellow composer, arranger, conductor and trumpeter, we share the same passionate search; to create, tell a story and communicate emotion with our music. It’s our small contribution to the world.
FP: Neal, what a career. Thanks for taking the time to talk with us.
Author’s Note: I’d like to personally thank Neal Hefti and his assistant, Dawn Thomas, for their editorial assistance in preparation of this interview. I’d also like to thank Frank Comstock for his part in arranging "Frank’s Summit." Additionally, I’d like to express my thanks and appreciation to my wife Nancy who assisted me in all aspects in this series of interviews.
Copyright Neal Hefti and Forrest Patten 2006: published in ‘Journal Into Melody’ March 2006
The Genius Who Wrote both Words and Music
by Murray Ginsberg
During his illustrious career Bob Farnon recorded so many great songs by most of the finest composers, that to list them all here would be an impossible task. However, some of Cole Porter's creations on which the Guv'nor wove his magic were Begin the Beguine (Geraldo's Orch.); Just One Of Those Things; Do I Love You?; Easy To Love (withEileen Farrell); I Am Loved (with Vera Lynn); / Get A Kick Out Of You; I Love Paris; In The Still Of The Night (Singers Unlimited), and I've Got You Under My Skin
A remarkable composer who produced hundreds of smash hits during a career that lasted for more than 50 years, Cole Porter was born in Peru, Indiana, June 9, 1891, and died in Santa Monica, California, October 15, 1964. Perhaps the greatest songwriter of the century, he was the only one apart from Irving Berlin, who wrote both music and lyrics. Someone said Cole Porter was a Rodgers and Hart in one.
The genius of Porter rests not only in the brilliance of his writing the music and lyrics himself, but of the intricate interpretation of his lyrics. To try to distinguish the intent of his lyrics is to try to comprehend Porter the man. At least half a dozen biographers wrote glowing accounts of Porter's talents. "He was a master of subtle expression without sentimentality," one wrote. "A kinetic dash without vulgarity, and a natural blend of word poetry with the finest harmonious melodies," wrote another. Critic Dale Harris wrote, "Porter's songs offer sophisticated views of love; they express erotic feeling rather than tenderness or exhilaration; in them order is firmly controlled."
Coming from a wealthy background he took piano and violin lessons at an early age, and was educated at Yale University 1911-12, where he earned a B.A. He then took academic courses at Harvard Law School and later at the Harvard School of Music. While at Yale he wrote football songs and also composed music for college functions.
His grandfather, J.O.Cole, who was the source of the money, tried to stop him from being a composer and did not accept it even when he was obviously a success.
Because of his wealth Porter moved in American upper class society and in 1919 married "the most beautiful woman in Britain" and both spent the '20s in Paris. In the early '30s they moved back to New York but Porter never got Paris out of his blood.
Even though he was married, it was known to friends that he was a homosexual and that his marriage was one of convenience. His wife Linda's first marriage was a physically abusive one and sex to her became abhorrent, yet she fell in love with him. Porter, though he was sexually conflicted in the beginning, became more and more overt in his homosexuality as time went on. Yet he loved and adored his Linda, and they were devoted to each other.
I remember seeing a television documentary of Cole Porter on Canada's Bravo Channel in 1980 which left nothing to the viewer's imagination. In addition to presenting his many Broadway successes and the dozens of wonderful songs he had created for Hollywood films, a portion of the one-hour documentary showed scenes of more than twenty beautiful young men in bathing trunks lolling around his swimming-pool. I recognized some familiar faces from various movies I had seen earlier.
The documentary also showed Porter after his legs had been shattered in 1937 when a horse fell on him. The immensely sophisticated world traveller was a semi-invalid for the rest of his life and suffered countless operations to save the legs.
His first production in New York was See America First (1916). There followed a cascade of musical comedies which placed him in the front rank of American musical theatre.
The musical Paris, which opened in New York in 1928, produced his first big hit...
Let's Do It
"Birds do it, bees do it
Even educated fleas do it
Let's do it, let 's fall in love."
Is it sex or is it love he's referring to? Or is it both?
In December 1929 in his musical Wake Up and Dream he wrote a song that went on to become a standard ... the poignant What Is This Thing Called Love
"What is this thing called love?
This funny thing called Love?
Just who can solve its mystery?
Why should it make a fool of me?"
Porter said the song wrote itself and he wrote it all in a few hours The song was not a frivolous play on words that Porter was so adept at. . ..this was something more. The enigma of Porter is there in the lyrics.
The list of Porter's 1930s musicals is enormous:
Gay Divorce (1932); Nymph Errant (1933), Anything Goes (1934); Jubilee (1935); Born To Dance (a film) and Red Hot and Blue (both 1936).
In The New Yorkers he had a white prostitute sing Love For Sale and the critics blasted him, calling it smut. In order to placate them he changed the venue to the Cotton Club in Harlem. This seemed to calm them. Yet the lyrics could not be broadcast on radio. Porter was bewildered. "You can write a novel about a harlot, paint a picture of a harlot, but you can't write a song about a harlot."
"Love for sale,
Appetizing young love for sale,
Love that's fresh and still unspoiled,
Love that's only slightly soiled,
Love for sale."
In the Broadway production of Gay Divorce he wrote Night and Day. Ring Lardner praised Porter for this achievement:
"Night and Day under the hide of me
There's an Oh, such a hungry yearning
burning inside of me "
Yet later on, Lardner complained about the suggestiveness of songs on the radio that he felt were largely under the influence of Cole Porter.
"Night and Day", a motion picture musical biography of Cole Porter, starring Gary Grant, was produced by Warner Brothers in 1946.
There were so many brilliant songs he wrote that have been performed continuously by the greatest artists of our time: Begin the Beguine; You do Something to Me, Just One of Those Things, So in Love, I Love Paris, C'est Magnifique, It's All Right With Me, It's De-lovely; Night and Day; My Heart Belongs to Daddy; Don't Fence Me In; and Wunderbar
After Porter's wife died in 1954, and his right leg was amputated in 1958, he became reclusive.
Cole Porter can be understood through his music: Haunting, full of passion, longing, but always mischievous, sexy and provocative.
His songs will live forever.
Copyright Murray Ginsberg 2006: from ‘Journal Into Melody’ March 2006
by Murray Ginsberg
Robert Farnon arranged and recorded the music of many of the great composers. Had those who had passed away remained alive to hear his arrangements, I'm sure each one, including the late great George Gershwin would have contacted The Guv'nor to lavish high praise for his stunning orchestrations of such gems as Porgy and Bess suite, Love Walked In, S’Wonderful and others.
The following passage is borrowed from a foreword by Richard Rodgers on the first page of a book titled The Gershwins by Robert Kimball and Alfred Simon (Atheneum, New York 1973):
"Composers, by tradition, are not a generous lot. Essentially, we are a breed of men and women concerned with the arrangement of the same seven notes. We tend to be somewhat taciturn when it comes to assaying each other's work, and will often go to extremes to avoid having to pay them public compliment.
So it ought to be with some misgivings that I attempt to set down my thoughts on George Gershwin and his music. In this case, however, I am delighted to break with tradition and pay my unreserved respects to a fellow composer.
George had an endearing appreciation of himself in his own work that was quite contagious. When he had a new song he could hardly wait to marshal his friends for a first-time-anywhere recital. On this occasion we were weekend guests at the home of a friend. All was quiet and relaxed, when suddenly George announced (to no one's surprise) that he had ‘a new composition’. Without further introduction he sat down and played his just completed symphonic poem, ‘An American in Paris’. I thought it was superb, and I raved about it. But a little later, as we were all on our way to the beach for a swim, George caught up with me and remarked with some puzzlement, "I never knew you were like that."
I was surprised and asked him what in the world he meant. Hastily, he clarified, "I didn't know you could like anyone else's stuff!"
Gershwin's ‘stuff' was marvellous, and I was crazy about it. I can hardly remember a time when I didn't know about him. He loved to play the piano. He played marvellously. Performing was like a shot of adrenalin to George; he loved to be the life of the party. The best way to sum up George Gershwin's work is simply:
The Gershwin brothers were born within two years of each other - Ira on December 6, 1896, and George on September 26, 1898. Their parents, Rose and Morris Gershwin, each of whom had emigrated from Russia before their marriage in 1895, produced two more children, a son Arthur and a daughter Frances.
Morris Gershwin, according to George, was "a very easy-going, humorous philosopher who took things as they came. He was at the time of his marriage, a foreman in a factory that made women's shoes. But in the next 20 years he moved his family no less than 28 times as his occupations shifted - part owner of a Turkish bath on the Bowery, part owner of a restaurant on Third Avenue, owner of a cigar store, and other pursuits."
Rose Gershwin, on the other hand, was, in George's words, "nervous, ambitious and purposeful." She wanted her children to be educated, feeling that with an education they could at least become teachers. She opposed George's desire to become a musician, thinking of such a career in terms of a $25-a-week piano player. But she did nothing to stand in George's way when he left school to take his first job as a pianist.
George and Ira were as dissimilar as two brothers could be. Almost everything that one was, the other wasn't. And yet, the various pluses and minuses of these two very distinct and individually creative men were so complementary, fitting together as snugly as the parts of a cleanly cut jigsaw puzzle, that, together, they formed a remarkably complete whole.
In everything they did they were opposites. George was open, exuberant, loving the spotlight, an irrepressible performer. Ira was shy, slow-moving, inhibited.
And yet they functioned together with the smoothness of a beautifully tooled piece of machinery.
The dynamism of George's personality was inescapable. Whenever he entered a room, he captured it instantly. He had an irresistible, infectious vitality, an overwhelming personal magnetism beyond that of most of the greatest movie stars.
George loved to play the piano. Whenever a piano was available, George would sit down and play. Part of his joy in going to parties was because of the opportunities they afforded him to play. And what he played was usually whatever songs he had written for many of his own shows.
Nor was his performing limited to the piano. He was a great storyteller and had a natural gift for dancing. If parties gave Gershwin an additional platform for his considerable talents, they were also the perfect showcase for a personality that helped give New York in the '20s so much of the character New Yorkers have come to associate with those years. New York mayor Fiorello La Guardia claimed that because of George Gershwin's reputation and his amazing musical output, New Yorkers were walking taller, smiling more, and seemed generally happier. Every citizen was proud to be a New Yorker.
Yet for all the love of self-acclaim that this seeking out of the spotlight might suggest, George was generous in his enthusiasm for other composers, helping to launch the careers of Harold Arlen, Arthur Schwartz, Vernon Duke, Kay Swift, and others.
On a different level he used a weekly radio show in 1934 and 1935 called ‘Music By Gershwin’, to promote the songs of his leading contemporaries - Richard Rodgers, Jerome Kern, Cole Porter, Hoagy Carmichael, Irving Berlin, all of whom were close friends. According to several biographers, there was a surprising absence of professional jealousy amongst them.
George Gershwin's musical output was remarkable. During his career George wrote the music for at least 25 Broadway shows, the first of which in 1919 was "La La Lucille" when George was only 20. Others were "Lady Be Good", "I Got Rhythm", "Strike Up The Band", "Funny Face", and a folk opera called "Porgy and Bess", to name a few, as well as a piano concerto for symphony orchestra called "Rhapsody In Blue".
When "Rhapsody in Blue" - the title supplied by brother Ira - was first performed in February 1924, in Aeolian Hall, with Paul Whiteman conducting, the concert was slammed by the critics as rubbish. They felt the work contained too much jazz and blue notes, which classical music must never include.
However, "Rhapsody in Blue" and his other works were not only acclaimed in America, but in Europe as well where Gershwin was hailed a genius.
He was also involved in more than a dozen Hollywood films. And the large number of songs from these shows and films will live forever in the annals of American entertainment.
Gershwin did have a problem with one song however: The Man I Love.
The Man I Love was introduced by Adele Astaire November 25, 1924, in Philadelphia in a show called "Lady be Good!" The show was noteworthy for two reasons: outstanding performances by Fred and Adele Astaire and a superb score by George and Ira Gershwin.
But after a few "Lady Be Good!" performances, Gershwin wrote to a friend: "Imagine my discomfort when the tune received a lukewarm reception that we felt obliged to take it from the play.
"But my spirits rose again shortly after this when Lady Mountbatten asked me for a copy of the song to take back to England. Soon, Mountbatten's favourite band, the Berkley Square Orchestra, was playing The Man I Love. Of course, they had no orchestral arrangement, so they ‘faked’ an arrangement - that is, they played the song by ear. It wasn't long before all the dance bands in London had taken up The Man I Love - also in faked or ear arrangements. Paradoxically enough, I now had a London song hit on my hands without being able to sell a single copy."
"However, its out-of-the-theatre popularity continued to grow, and after considerable success in London and Paris, The Man I Love was sung by an artist who has almost been directly responsible for its American success. I refer to that remarkable personality, Helen Morgan."
In 1928 George Gershwin travelled to London, Paris, Berlin and Vienna. While in Paris he visited Maurice Ravel, composer of the Bolero, and other celebrated works. Both musicians hugged each other on meeting, as though they were lifelong friends. There was no doubt each had become a mutual admiration society for the other. When Gershwin expressed his desire to study with Ravel, the Parisian replied, "But I was coming to America to study with you."
George Gershwin was so busy making music that one wonders whether he was ever interested in women. At first George claimed he was not attracted by the women he met in Hollywood, but soon found companionship with Elizabeth Allan and Simone Simone and became very much interested in Paulette Goddard, whom he met at a party Edward G. Robinson gave in honour of Igor Stravinsky in March 1937.
But he admitted to Ira's wife Lenore that marriage would add responsibilities as a husband and father that would detract from much needed time for composing, so he never married. Rest assured however, that he had women constantly throwing themselves at his feet.
In June 1937 George Gershwin, who was visiting friends in Los Angeles, began complaining about headaches. He went to a doctor who suggested he should have an x-ray taken. When he did the doctor told him he couldn't find anything conclusive, but on July 9 George collapsed into a coma. Friends contacted Dr. Dandy, an eminent brain surgeon in Chesapeake Bay who agreed to fly to California to perform the operation.
When it was too late to get him there in time for the operation, they opened up a direct line between Newark and the Cedars of Lebanon Hospital on the Coast so Dandy could follow the course of the surgery and offer advice to the California doctor who wielded the scalpel if needed.
Without regaining consciousness Gershwin died on the operating table on July 11, 1937. He was 38.
He was buried on a rainy July 15 after a simple funeral service, attended by 3500 persons at New York's Temple Emanu-El. Outside the synagogue a crowd of more than 1000 gathered in the rain behind police barricades along both sides of Fifth Avenue. Hundreds had been turned away at the entrance, and policemen were forced to hold back the crowd.
Earlier, Mayor LaGuardia had ordered a two-minute silence to be observed throughout New York City at the precise moment the casket was placed inside the hearse.
I remember it well. I was 14 years old at the time and remember radio stations across America and Canada, reporting on the solemn occasion. And later we saw it in the cinemas when they showed the news before the feature movie started.
Every person on the street, every taxi cab, car and bus stopped, as did the underground trains. For two minutes the city was frozen in time.
George Gershwin was deemed so important that the homage paid to him was the same shown only to wartime heroes.
Enrique Renard remembers the Englishman who became one of the ‘Greats’ of American Light Music
A BUNCH OF HOLIDAYS – THE DAVID ROSE STORY
It was in 1942, the year the USA had just entered World War II, that a totally unknown young jazz pianist brought to RCA producers a few light pieces he had composed. He played them in the piano, but explained that his intention was to orchestrate and record them with a full ensemble, including strings.
The A & R people at RCA must have been impressed with what they heard, because a session was arranged to record Holiday for Strings, Dance of the Spanish Onion, Our Waltz and One Love. As everyone knows, recording techniques of those days were very far from what we hear today, or even from what we heard in the fifties, where the studios’ technological jump was enormous. However, and whoever that recording engineer was at RCA, he came with the idea of adding echo effect to the sound by slightly retarding the signal. The result was a novelty sound that added life to the dull sound recordings of the period under the primitive technology available. Nothing of the sort had ever been heard before in popular light music, not even in classical recordings. Everyone was impressed, and David Rose’s illustrious musical career was launched then and there.
Columbia Records, always a pioneer in sound achievement under men like Goddard Lieberson during the 40s, had a remarkable recording studio called Liederkranz Hall on 115th E. 58th St. in Manhattan, NY, famed by its excellent acoustics. By the late 30s and early 40s Andre Kostelanetz used to record in that studio using musicians from the NY Philharmonic playing arrangements from popular tunes as part of the Kostelanetz effort to acquaint the average American public with symphonic orchestral sounds. His material was pop, but his arrangements were symphonic in that he used an 80 piece orchestra with a huge string section. He openly achieved his purpose… in the east coast, that is. In the west coast the first one to attract attention in that direction was David Rose.
At the time, swing was in full blast in the USA spearheaded by Benny Goodman and his Swing Band, but the times, with all that nostalgic effect on wives and fiancées with their men overseas fighting a tough war, popularized sentimental music. Hence the enormous success of the Glenn Miller Orchestra, and that of a young skinny singer called Frank Sinatra. The romantic, sentimental quality of David Rose’s tunes and string arrangements, evident even in his faster pieces like My Dog has Fleas (1944), fit perfectly the mood of the times. But it was Holiday for Strings, a million seller, that brought him into public consciousness. Given which, he wrote several other "Holidays": Holiday for Flutes, Holiday for Trombones, Autumn Holiday, Blue Holiday, etc. (An aunt of mine who was a pianist, remarked after hearing Holiday for Strings: "It’s called ‘holiday’ for strings but the only thing you hear in it is strings!). Tune titles aside, the thing is Rose can and should be credited with having started Light Music in the western USA.
David Rose was in fact British, born in London, June 15th, 1910. He was only 4 when his family migrated to the USA and settled in Chicago. By age 16 he was receiving musical training at the Chicago Conservatory of Music and starting to play piano professionally. His first contract was with the Ted Fio Rito Orchestra, but someone at NBC Radio caught his sound and in 1936 he was hired as a pianist-arranger by the network. By 1938 he was hired by the Mutual Broadcasting Service, in Hollywood, where he set up an orchestra for that network. There he met singer/comedian Martha Raye and married her. He provided the arrangement for her only hit, a song with a telling title: Melancholy Mood. He divorced Raye in 1941.
The US musical scene suffered a crippling blow through a strike by the Musicians Union that lasted more than two years. But through that time, Holiday for Strings, recorded shortly before the strike, became a huge hit. The 78 carried Poinciana onthe other side with a slow, sensual arrangement that contributed to the success of the single. He then did for RCA a set of Cole Porter tunes masterfully arranged and featuring the same echo chamber sound that so distinguished his output. Those 78s were transposed into 45 rpms in a box set issued in the early 50’s, when 45s became popular, and later into LP. Both sets are almost impossible to find. He recorded Holiday for Strings, his signature song that sold millions worldwide, about six times, including an extended concert version he did in 1955 for a long forgotten MGM movie called "Unfinished Dance" but released onan LP called "David Rose plays David Rose", MGM E-3748, long out of print.
But it was not only the sound per se that made his music sound "different". It was the way he arranged. Steeped in jazz since his early youth, he phrased the strings using jazz chords and tempos, enlarging and sometimes bending phrases and scoring the strings in several voices so as to achieve a sort of uniform sound particularly pleasant to hear and very apt in establishing a romantic atmosphere. Many of my generation of those days felt a debt of gratitude towards David Rose and his music. Our seductive efforts were amply rewarded when we placed a Rose 78 rpm record on the turntable. The problem was one had to get up too often to change the record, thus spoiling things to some extent…
In 1941 Rose married Judy Garland, of all people! That an extraordinary ballad singer and the best ballad arranger in the business would never record together during the three years their marriage lasted is something difficult to explain. There were probably contractual situations that made it impossible, but they would have been a perfect match. Garland’s heartfelt style coupled with the Rose strings would have been something difficult to forget. But that perfect matching did not extend to their marriage. They were divorced in 1945.
Meanwhile, Rose’s career and fame continued to climb. He was busily arranging for movies and he had his own radio show California Melodies. For that one he wrote one of his well known tunes of that same name. The original, seductive way in which he arranged old songs making them sound new and different, attracted MGM executives, and he was offered a contract to write music for movies and record for the label. At MGM, however, the main preoccupation was with movies, and Rose ended up scoring over 36 of these! Aware of his talent and his commercial appeal, MGM gave him the opportunity to arrange and record several LPs from American standards by Gershwin, Jerome Kern, Harold Arlen, Moose Charlap and others, plus his own compositions including re-recordings of the tunes he had done for RCA, all in a mood, seductive but vital style that sold very well. Above all, Rose and his engineers invariably aimed for the best in sound and his talent, added to the lilting sound of his arrangements, brought him a measure of popularity, especially amongst advertisers and broadcasters. Whenever they wanted something catchy for the public’s ear, they would use excerpts of David Rose tunes. A survey done around 1963 showed that at every minute of every day at least one radio station in the USA was playing a David Rose selection! And his music was being used as theme songs for 22 different TV shows!
But despite all his musical talent and his success, few people would imagine that his first love was not music. It was trains, all sorts of trains! More than everything he wanted to be a railroad engineer! He owned what was probably one of the largest collections of miniature trains in the world, and he had a scale railroad track surrounding his estate in Sherman Oaks, California, with a train on it, of course.
With his career well launched and his talent in huge demand from television shows as successful as The Red Skelton Show, Bonanza, the High Chaparral, The Bob Hope Show, The Jack Benny Show, etc., plus several movies and new LPs, he found time to marry once more, this time to Conover model and actress Betty Bigelow, with whom he had two daughters, Melanie and Angie.
By the mid fifties, MGM engineers Phil Ramone and Don Frey engineered Rose’s tour-de-force album in keeping with his permanent fascination with state-of-the-art recording technology: 21 Channel Sound. This was one of the first recording efforts done on a multi channel basis, and the results were spectacular by any means. Especially a Duke Ellington piece called In a Sentimental Mood, and another by Bishop & Jenkins, Blue Prelude, represent two of the most extraordinary arrangements of tunes ever recorded in Light Music. For the occasion Rose used an orchestra comprised of 58 musicians (30 strings: 20 violins, 5 violas and 5 celli, plus percussion, reeds and brass), and the post mix phase (a novelty those days) was a painstaking process by him and his engineers. An electronic gimmick was also used which, in my view at least, detracts from the brilliance of the record: the music sweeps from one speaker to another, left to right and right to left. I feel there was no need for this in an album where stereo separation was splendidly achieved. Still, later on Ray Martin did likewise with a couple of LPs recorded for RCA in the early sixties in the USA.
Then, when it was expected his popularity would wane under the growing impact of rock-n’-roll, MGM paired him with another talent: Andre Previn, then in his 30s. They recorded a set of tunes for an LP titled Like Young. It was so successful they were asked to do an encore: Like Blue. Previn was an excellent jazz pianist and arranger, and Rose used only a string orchestra for the sessions. Both albums stand as a shining example of light music with a jazz feeling. Shortly after, something more unexpected came up. The writer has never found anyone who can explain why Rose, a master of mood music, wrote The Stripper, a hoochi-coochi strip-tease song if there ever was one! But the fact is that the thing shot up to the top of the charts in the USA and even today there are people who know and remember Rose only for that song! Public taste is sometimes suspect. But we all know that. The success was of such magnitude, Rose recorded The Stripper a whole LP album of standards arranged in that style, and then a second one, More Music of The Stripper, to satisfy the demand!Well, one must admit the man had versatility.He probably wrote the song as a lark, without imagining it would become a hit.
It is a fact that great musicians, especially great arrangers, will be imitated. Well… let’s say that some will be "influenced" by them. It is not merely a question of imitating that which sells well, but also of being inspired by originality borne in genuine talent and taste. Humoresque, a song written by Anton Dvorak, the great classical composer, was classified by my ears as one of the most trite and boring things they ever heard. And when I saw the song included in an RCA LP LPT 1011 (the first compilation of 78s by Rose by the label transposed into 33⅓ rpm.) I couldn’t believe my eyes! There was nothing anyone could do for that regrettable song! I surmised. Boy, was I wrong! Rose picked up the slow, narcotic main theme, changed it into a fast tempo played by pizzicato strings, orchestrating the central motive in the manner of that of his Dance of the Spanish Onion, adding a romantic twist to it, and a dull song picked up life and beauty. That requires imagination, an outstanding feature in David Rose’s musical talent. It was inevitable that he would be copied. And he was.
By the early 50s when he had scored well with some mood albums, he started to receive phone calls where all he heard was his own recordings being played by the caller. This went on for quite a while and he said it drove him nuts. He just couldn’t figure out who would do such a weird thing. Suddenly, in one of the calls a familiar voice came in. "This is Jackie Gleason, Dave… How are ya!... I just figured I told you we’ve been listening to your records. They sound wonderful…"
Gleason was known more as a comedian than a musician. He had never studied theory, to begin with, and couldn’t read music. He was a good bass player though (he can be spotted as the bass player in the Glenn Miller Orchestra Wives movie -1942). The fact is he was a natural musician and also a shrewd businessman, as we shall see. Fascinated with the Rose mood sound, he decided to do something similar. He tried to sell the idea to Mitch Miller, A&R man for Columbia those days. Miller laughed at it. "Strings and a trumpet? Are you crazy? I have shelves full of Harry James stock I cannot sell! Take a walk!" Gleason did, and that was a major faux pas by Miller, similar to the one he took with Sinatra before. Gleason went into hock, got together with arrangers George Williams and Dick Jones and made them listen to David Rose. "I want it to sound like that…" he explained to them, "and I got Bobby Hackett to do the trumpet part". The thing was Hackett played cornet, that smaller kind of trumpet with the conic tubing that mellows the sound and makes it languid and intimate. In short, ideal for Gleason’s concept. Gleason went ahead and recorded a few tunes. Upon hearing them, the Capitol A&R people got interested and released the album Music for Lovers Only. It was a smash hit, worldwide. It sold millions but it was a bad imitation of David Rose.
The thing was, however, that Rose included variety in his arrangements and a wide selection of different material. Tempos, colorings, fast and slow percussion and tone alternated brilliantly in his records. But Gleason understood that for wide appeal he had to play the melody straight. Average people simply did not understand nor musically relate to anything else. Add a romantic tone to it, and you got it made, he figured. He recorded over thirty "for lovers" albums, made millions, and he did change orchestration, sometimes even omitting strings (his best work, I think), but always playing the melody, and he got to be better known than Rose himself, who unwittingly gave him the idea.
The 60s were the last successful decade for David Rose. By then he recorded again many of his first hit compositions, using now the better technology available. By 1970 he recorded a couple of albums in London for Polydor, Portrait and The Very Thought of You, the latter including one of the best instrumental versions of the Ray Noble standard that I have ever heard. There is no indication of any other recordings after those.
I met David Rose at Epcot Center, in Disneyworld, Orlando, Florida, in 1985. He had been invited to do a few concerts with the local orchestra, a relatively small group (no more than 12 or so strings) that could not fully show his brilliance as an arranger. I found him to be a person who did not take himself seriously, humorous and funny. The only sad note came when he was asked why he wasn’t recording any more. There was a tone of sadness and frustration in his answer: "I don’t play rock n’ roll", he said. He was 75 at that moment, but one could sense he was still young inwardly. He was physically short, but a giant in talent. And his influence in all light music arrangers, including British composer/ arrangers such as Melachrino, Ray Martin, Stanley Black (the mood albums), William Hill-Bowen, Malcolm Lockyer, etc., was undeniable.
The distinctive Rose sound reached a lot of people, but it was difficult for me to determine clearly my predilection for it above all other light music composers. Added to his taste and brilliance there was another factor I could never pinpoint, but that attracted me. Then, by 1973, while I was living in San Juan, Puerto Rico, for a while, I was playing one of his records and a neighbor heard and came to knock at my door. He introduced himself: "My name is Tom Schaeffer, and I am a professor at the local university here, and would you mind telling me what is it that you are playing? It sounds great". I said, "That’s David Rose, and if you wish to come in and listen please feel free. He did, and as we listened, he turned to me and asked me if I had a song called June in January arranged by Rose. I said I did and I played it for him. And when the strings were picking up the main theme with the typical full sound Rose got from them, Tom turned to me and said: "You know, Enrique, the thing with David Rose is that his was always such a happy sound! I smiled in full agreement and thanked him for identifying the main reason why I liked David Rose above almost all others: his music made me happy! It conveyed a bubbly feeling of happiness! And $3 for an LP was an insignificant price to pay for it. I didn’t pay only for the beauty of his compositions and arrangements. Unwittingly, I was also paying for happiness.
Davis Rose died in Burbank, California, on 23 August, 1990, leaving behind not only the David Rose Foundation he set up in the 1960s, but a splendid collection of recorded music. His talented output was honored with six gold records and 22 Grammys. Not bad for a British-born kid who would have preferred to be a railroad engineer. Happily, he went the way of music to our benefit and listening pleasure.
This article appeared in ‘Journal Into Melody’ December 2005.
Whether you realize it or not, you’ve heard the guitar of Bob Bain. In all reality, you couldn’t miss it. Starting in the 1950’s and through the 80’s (not counting today’s re-runs or syndicated programming), if you watched television shows like Peter Gunn, Bonanza, Mission Impossible, The Munsters and M.A.S.H., it was Bob Bain’s guitar that you heard on the themes. For 22 years, Bob was a fixture along with Doc Severinsen and The Tonight Show Band during the Johnny Carson era on NBC. But you’ve also heard his work in movies like Thoroughly Modern Millie and on recordings with the likes of Frank Sinatra, Peggy Lee and Nat King Cole. Bob has also recorded several albums of his own on Capitol Records, recorded with the group Guitars Unlimited, and produced a couple of releases by jazz pianist Junior Mance.
Having started out as a bass player in a trio fronted by guitarist Joe Wolverton, Bob made his way out to Los Angeles and settled into the club circuit. It was there that he met one of his heroes and mentors, Les Paul. In 1942, Bob joined Freddy Slack’s band, and through fellow guitarist Jack Marshall, was introduced to Phil Moore. He subsequently joined Phil Moore’s Four and One More. Moore’s group was introducing the new bebop sound and was one of the first interracial bands to play in the L.A. area. In 1945, Bob joined Tommy Dorsey (where he played along side Buddy Rich) and, two years later, became a part of Bob Crosby’s big band. In addition, he had formed his own band, The San Fernando Playboys. They actually recorded in Les Paul’s own home studio. Bob later played and recorded with Harry James and was also a part of André Previn’s trio.
The following interview took place during the afternoon of September 8, 2004 in Studio City, California and was organized by Frank Comstock as a part of "Frank’s Summit."
FORREST PATTEN interviews
BOB BAIN – one of the Great Guitar Players
FORREST PATTEN: Bob Bain, guitarist extraordinaire, thank you for joining us today on behalf of the Robert Farnon Society. You have been on so many recordings that we’ve enjoyed over the years, but many of our non-U.S. subscribers might not be aware of your tenure with the Tonight Show Band when Johnny Carson hosted on NBC. Tell us about some of the memorable things that went on behind the scenes.
BOB BAIN: Whenever Johnny did his nightly monologue, they had cue cards for him, naturally. He would always rehearse with them. Johnny would use Doc (Severinsen) as a kind of buffer if the audience didn’t laugh at one of his lines. He would always turn to the band and expect something to come out of them. It was like when they used to do this segment called Stump The Band. This is where an audience member would come up with a song title and the band would have to try and play it. Doc was good at that and every once and a while the band would really get into it, too. I remember one night during the monologue, Johnny was talking and mentioned that he had heard one of his favorite records by Alvino Rey. I was playing a Telecaster guitar with a pitch bend that night. I hit a C chord and, with the pitch bend, brought the tone way down and then brought it back up again. It broke the place up. Things like that would just happen. I remember a time when Beverly Sills came on the show. She had just had surgery. She had just done a concert in Houston and had flown in for the show. She was extremely tired and didn’t feel like rehearsing (and wanted to lie down). They wanted her to sing a number on the show. She said that if she did sing, she would do it with a guitar player. That was all she said. Well, then the show goes on. She comes out and is talking to Johnny. Johnny says "I know that you’re not feeling well, but could you do just a few bars for us?" She agreed and looked over at me and said "Estrellita?" I said "In F?" and she nodded. We then did a chorus and a half. She was so easy to accompany. If we had rehearsed it, it wouldn’t have come off any better. The band was always a lot of fun. We had a great brass section. The lead trumpet was John Audino. Conte Condoli was the jazz trumpet. Jimmy Zito sat on the other side. The fourth trumpet was either Snooky Young or Maurie Harris. Just having those four guys in the band was enough to make you laugh. They never stopped talking! Sometimes Pete Candoli would sub for Audino and you’d think that Pete and Conte hadn’t seen each other in ten years! They were just so funny. You had Pete Christlieb and Ernie Watts on tenor sax and, of course Tommy Newsom on lead alto. You had Ed Shaughnessy on the drums and Ross Tompkins on piano. It was a great band. I really enjoyed doing the show. You came in at 3:15 in the afternoon and got to go home at 6:30 that evening. So that was a pretty good job.
FP: You’ve played on and recorded the themes for so many memorable television shows. Tell us about Bonanza.
BB: I got a call from Dave (David) Rose and he told me that he had to record a theme that had been composed by the team of Jay Livingston and Ray Evans. He said that it was a Western and asked me what I thought. I asked him what he wanted and he replied that he’d like something with guitars. I told him that I thought he should use maybe four or five guitars and put them in unison with whatever he wanted to do. We’d just try and fake it when we got there. He said "Great." He wrote his usual arrangement for strings and other parts of the orchestra. There were five guitars. Laurindo (Almeida) was there; Tommy Tedesco, Al Hendrickson, Dennis Budimir and myself. He had just a lead sheet for us. We played it in octaves. He had a nice orchestration behind us, but simple. So we recorded that as the theme song for Bonanza. Then David scored the rest of the show without guitars because he didn’t use guitars as a rule. When the show started to become a hit, I remember having dinner with Dave one night and he said, "Can you imagine that they asked me to write the theme for that show and I turned them down because I told them that I was too busy!" He was doing the Red Skelton Show at the time. But that’s the story of Bonanza.
FP: How about the opening theme to the TV series M.A.S.H.
BB: That’s a long story. Johnny Mandel is really the one who was responsible for that. He scored the original motion picture. When it came time for the TV version, Twentieth Century Fox picked it up. Johnny wrote the theme, orchestrated it, and supplied cues for the first couple of episodes. After that, he gave it to somebody else. But he did write the guitar part that appears at the opening. It was actually written for two guitars in the key of B-minor. One guitar played B and F# and the other guitar played the thirds. As the show became popular, the union law said that you had to re-record the theme every year. So we’d come back in the next year and Lionel (Newman) would say "Let’s add a few more guitars." So now we did the theme with four guitars. And the next year, there would be six guitars! Since there were only two parts originally, you had guys that were adlibbing and strumming along or whatever. As it turned out, the original recording (with two guitars) continued to be used for the entire run of the series. Even though you would come in and do another annual session, the producers could use the original track as long as the guys were paid their union fees. If you ever listen to the theme on M.A.S.H. closely, you’ll notice that there are different versions that they use throughout the series. The editor for that week’s show could choose the particular rendition he wanted to use for that specific show or season. But Johnny Mandel really deserves the credit. After all, who would ever think of starting a TV show with just two guitars playing? Most people would say that it just didn’t have enough sound. But it worked.
FP: And, of course, another television favorite: The Munsters.
BB: Uan Rasey reminded me how much fun we had on that show. The leader was Jack Marshall, a good friend of ours. It was a small band, comparatively speaking for television. There were three trumpets, two trombones, tuba, guitar, bass, drums, piano and two or three woodwinds. There might have been some extra percussion, also. Jack wrote the theme that sounded a little bit like "spooky" music we always thought. He put the electric guitar as the lead because electric guitar was very popular then. Les Paul was very popular at that time, too. The producers wanted that sound. He would write these cues that were so short sometimes. Jack would give you a downbeat and almost have to cut you off immediately because it might have been a six-second or less bit. But the fun thing about it was that the people who were filming The Munsters on one stage (which was only about a block away) would come over when they heard there was going to be a scoring session. Fred Gwynne as Herman Munster would come by in full "Frankenstein" make-up and Al Lewis (who played Grandpa) was always there. He loved it and just liked to sit around and listen to the music. Yvonne De Carlo (Lily Munster) didn’t show up too much. The male characters did, even Butch Patrick who played their little boy, Eddie. Jack Marshall was so funny. It was like one big three-hour laugh session. When you had the likes of trombonist Frank Rosolino along with trumpeters Uan Rasey and Jack Sheldon, and Shelly Manne on drums, it was great. The music was funny to begin with, and then to see all of the shenanigans that went on in the show (like smoke coming out of Herman’s ears) was a lot of fun. It didn’t pay a lot, but you did it because it was with Jack Marshall and there was always a lot of laughs. That was forty years ago. The thing that amazes me today is that young guitar players will come up to me when they hear I did The Munsters. They could care less about the rest of the stuff! They say, "Hey, are you the guy that played on The Munsters?" To them, that’s more important than playing for Sinatra or anybody else.
FP: Let’s segue here and talk about your many years playing for a man named Henry Mancini. Didn’t it all start with a TV program called Peter Gunn?
BB: Yes, I played the guitar part on Peter Gunn. I first met Hank Mancini when he was an orchestrator at Universal Pictures. He had originally come out to the West Coast with the Tex Beneke Band when he got a job on staff at Universal with a weekly salary. He orchestrated The Glenn Miller Story. That sort of opened the door for him. Then they gave him another picture called Rock Pretty Baby with John Saxon. It was a typical beach rock and roll picture. And then Dominic Frontiere and I did an album with him featuring accordion and guitar for Liberty Records. The next thing you knew, he had Peter Gunn come up. He was a friend of Blake Edwards who told him to write a theme and "we’ll see what happens." It was a pilot show that caught on and that was the beginning. Then Hank did everything that Blake ever produced including Breakfast At Tiffany’s with "Moon River." So I got to know Hank and his family very well. We became very close friends. I worked with him on just about everything he did for about the next twenty or thirty years. The reason that I stopped working with him more recently was because he was doing a lot of concerts on the road. Because I was doing The Tonight Show, I couldn’t get out of Burbank! The wonderful thing about working with Hank is that he did so many great pictures with so many great melodies. There was Days Of Wine And Roses and Soldier In The Rain. The song "Dreamsville" (from the original Peter Gunn soundtrack album) was originally just "thrown in" to fill up the record. Later on, Sammy Cahn wrote a lyric for it. I think it’s one of the most beautiful tunes that Hank ever wrote. Over the years, I can say that as many pictures as Hank did, the one that ended up being the most popular was The Pink Panther series. In the original picture, it started out with guitar and vibes doing fifths. The vibe player was Emil Richards and I did the guitar part. Compared to the "George Shearing" style, this was more of a low-end sound. Plas Johnson played the tenor sax melody. To honor what would have been Hank’s 80th birthday, they re-recorded The Pink Panther using a big orchestra and Plas, once again, played the main melody. I didn’t get to do that album because, I believe, they wanted all "younger" players for that session.
FP: A lot of people might not realize that when watching a movie and seeing their favorite star sing while strumming along on guitar, that you are actually the one providing the guitar track. I seem to remember the late Natalie Wood (with guitar) singing a beautiful ballad called "The Sweetheart Tree" in the Blake Edward’s comedy The Great Race. How did that work?
BB: That was, of course, pre-recorded with Natalie. In Breakfast At Tiffany’s there was kind of an interesting thing. You had a big orchestra scoring the picture at Paramount and then, when the date was over the contractor (Phil Coggin) came over and said "Bobby, you stay." The whole orchestra left and I’m sitting around. Hank said "Why don’t you go over to Nick’s. We won’t need you for another half hour. All you’ll need is your gut string (guitar)." I figured that they wanted me to play a little background music or something. When I came back, Audrey Hepburn was in the studio. The studio had been darkened and the only people there were the engineer in the booth, the producer (Blake Edwards), Hank, and an assistant in the booth to run the tape machine. They had told everybody else to essentially get lost. Audrey did not want to sing with a big orchestra. She wanted to record "Moon River" with just guitar and voice. She was so nice and very easy to accompany. She was really a good singer, too. She sang for My Fair Lady and was pretty good. There are some outtakes of her singing all of those tunes. She made one take and we went in the booth to listen to it. Hank asked her if she thought she could do it one more time and she agreed. We did a second take and that was it. Then Hank took that track (with just guitar and voice) and overdubbed strings. In the picture, the first sixteen bars has Audrey in a window or a doorway singing "Moon River" with just guitar and then the orchestra sneaks in. It ended up with this really nice orchestration.
FP: I’ve always wondered whether or not Henry Mancini did the majority of his own orchestrations, or did he have some ghost arrangers?
BB: No, Hank orchestrated almost everything. He was very particular about that. The only time I ever knew Hank to give some stuff out was much later when he asked Jack Hayes to help arrange some of his concert pieces. But in the beginning, Hank did everything himself.
FP: Bob, out of all of the film and television composers that you’ve worked with over the years, do you have a favorite?
BB: I’d have to say Billy May. He was a great kick to work with. The music was good and he was funny. I’ve also enjoyed working with Nelson Riddle and Frank Comstock. One of my heroes was Victor Young. I didn’t know Victor at all, but I certainly knew his music. It’s hard to believe that he wrote "Sweet Sue." I was working with Andre Previn when he had a trio. We had a guest shot on The Carnation Hour. Victor conducted the orchestra on the show and the singer was Buddy Clark. We did some Nat King Cole trio-type stuff worked out in thirds for guitar and piano. It was hard because Andre liked to play fast tempos. We played the guest spot. When it was over, I packed up my guitar and was getting ready to leave. Victor’s brother-in-law, Henry Hill (who served as orchestra contractor on the show), came over to me and asked if I’d be interested in working for Victor. I said sure. He told me that Victor had a call at Paramount the following week and would like me to do it. That was my first job with him, and we continued to work together for years after that. Phil Sobel, Henry Hill and I (along with Victor) would go over to Victor’s house after a date and would play Casino. His wife would serve us tea. She didn’t speak English.
FP: One of my all-time favorite Victor Young scores was his last to Around The World In 80 Days. Were you involved with that?
BB: I worked on that quite a bit. There was a lot of recording on that because there was so much music in the picture to start with. It was almost wall-to-wall music. There were a lot of scenes in the Orient (or wherever they were) and Victor said to me "I don’t want to bother getting any authentic samisen players in here. Can you make your banjo sound like a samisen?" We all knew how to do that by putting a mute on the bridge of the instrument and muffling it. It had sort of a "twangy" sound to it and you could bend the strings a bit. There’s a lot of music in that picture that sounds like it was done with a Japanese instrument, but it’s actually a banjo that’s being muffled! But, of course, there was a lot of guitar music in there, as well. He hired several authentic Flamenco guitar players for the Spanish scenes. I didn’t do that. But I did a lot of work on that picture.
FP: Do you remember who the arrangers were on that film?
BB: Sure. Leo Shuken and Jack Hayes were involved, and even Leo Arnaud did some things. There was so much music to be scored. Victor was so busy conducting. We recorded it all at Todd-AO. It took six weeks, at least.
FP: Bob, you’ve worked with so many of the great vocalists in the business including Frank Sinatra, Peggy Lee and Nat King Cole. Tell us what it was like working with such musical legends.
BB: You get a call from a music contractor. They’d tell you that there was a date with Nelson Riddle at 8:00 at Capitol. When you walked in, it could be Peggy or Frank or Keely Smith. It could be anybody. Sometimes they would tell you in advance. For example, on the Sinatra album Songs For Swinging Lovers, they tried to keep the band the same so they’d tell you that you have three sessions in a row and they’d like you to do all of them. Every once in a while I’d show up for a session at Capitol and it would be with Nat. His regular guitar player might be playing with the trio in Chicago. Capitol would fly Nat out to do a couple of recording dates, but they wouldn’t bring the trio with him. So they’d add a guitar and another bass player.
FP: Tell us about the famous guitar opening to Nat Cole’s hit Mona Lisa.
BB: Over the years, there’s been a lot of speculation about how that happened. The truth is that Nelson Riddle and I were pretty good friends. This was a long time ago when his kids were pretty small. I was over at his house and I always brought my guitar along because his daughter, Cecily, liked to sing and I’d provide the accompaniment. He told me that he was writing the arrangement on this tune and asked me what I thought. I looked at it and he asked "How does that lay for guitar?" Well, the original lead sheet (which was composed by Livingston an Evans) had that beautiful melody line and I said "That lays perfectly in thirds for the guitar." He then asked to hear it and I played it for him. It was almost as if a guitar player had written it out originally. He said, "Great," but nothing else. The next thing that I knew was that it became a hit record. Nelson had written the arrangement and Irving Ashby played the guitar part because he was the guitar player in Nat’s trio. Later on, Irving and I talked about it. He said, "When I first looked at the score, I thought that this Nelson Riddle really knows how to write for guitar. But then, I looked at the original lead sheet and realized that it was written that way to begin with." But Irving did play the opening guitar solo on Mona Lisa. He was a great guitarist and joined Nat after Oscar Moore left the trio to go with his brother’s group, The Spirits Of Rhythm, if I recall. And then John Collins took Irving’s place and that lasted to the end of the trio.
FP: Do you have a favorite singer that you’ve worked with?
BB: I’d have to say Nat Cole for a male singer. His phrasing and sound were wonderful. He was a great guy to work with in the studio. Nat would never play piano after he became a stand-up singer. He always wanted keyboard artist Buddy Cole to be there on the recording dates with him because he admired Buddy’s playing so much. Nat really knew how to read music. Ever so often if he wasn’t sure how a tune should go, he’d walk over to the piano and sit down next to Buddy and ask him to play the part in question in single notes. He also had a small rhythm section around him. He’d listen and say, "OK. I’ve got it," and would walk back to the recording mic. He was such a beautiful and wonderful guy and was such a swinging piano player with his trio. In fact, I think he was one of the best jazz pianists I’ve ever heard. Capitol A&R man Dave Cavanagh was quoted as saying, "There are three different sexes. Men, women and girl singers." My favorite "girl singer" or female vocalist would have to be Peggy Lee. We did the album Guitars A La Lee together. I especially enjoyed Billy May’s arrangement of "Call Me" on that record. Peggy put so much expression into the lyric and picked such great material. She also appreciated all the players at the session. In fact, her first husband, Dave Barbour, was a fine guitar player himself. I also loved the way that Linda Ronstadt sang on the first album that Nelson Riddle did with her doing all of those standards. I’ve worked with so many great girl singers. As I think about it, I guess I’d have to say it would be a tie between Peggy Lee and Rosemary Clooney. Rosie was a complete gas to work with and was so sharp. She could pick up a tune so fast and had a great ear. I actually did her television series, The Rosemary Clooney Show. And it goes without saying, Doris Day also ranks right up there with my two favorites. I think one of the nicest records I ever heard was a Doris Day’s version of "Remind Me" with just piano accompaniment. Betty Bennett also did a beautiful rendition with Andre Previn and his orchestra.
FP: You did an album with violinist Herman Clebanoff on Mercury Records. It was done with a full orchestra and contained a number of standards and Latin pieces done in a true "bossa nova" style. How did that association come about?
BB: There was a fellow named Wayne Robinson who was a great arranger and did a lot for Wayne King and also did a number of string arrangements for Herman Clebanoff (who was a violinist from Chicago). Robinson wanted to do a Latin album featuring the Clebanoff Strings and it was also going to have a lot of guitar in it. The pianist Caesar Giovannini was also a part of it. Their idea was to feature the Latin/bossa guitar sound (that was so popular at the time) with a full string orchestra. That was back in the mid 1960’s.
FP: I’m going to mention a few of your contemporaries in the guitar world and ask you comment on each. Let’s start with Charlie Byrd.
BB: A great player and innovator. He was really responsible for getting Stan Getz to go down to Brazil and record with Joao and Astrud Gilberto. He had that marvelous rough technique that I loved. He played everything with his fingers using a gut string guitar. It was hard to believe that Barney Kessel, Herb Ellis and Charlie Byrd (playing the rhythm) could create this great swinging sound. But they did, and Charlie was just an amazing player. I really think that he was responsible for making the Bossa Nova popular and bringing Antonio Carlos Jobim’s music to the U.S.
FP: Laurindo Almeida.
BB: A very close friend. I met him while doing a television show. There were just two guitars. I got to know his family, as well. They lived out here in the San Fernando Valley. He taught me so much. Even though Charlie Byrd was responsible for bringing the Bossa Nova to the public eye, Laurindo (who was originally from Brazil) was playing the Bossa Nova long before it became so popular here in the states. The first job he got here was with Stan Kenton’s band; but he really didn’t have the chance to play a lot there. When I met him, he showed me the basic Bossa Nova beat. He was a marvelous technician.
FP: Chet Atkins.
BB: I didn’t know Chet that well, but he was quite a gentleman. He would play as a soloist every once in a while on The Tonight Show. He and I would talk and then I’d get a letter from him saying "it was so nice seeing you again." He was one of the original "finger pickers" that really got his own style going. It’s a distinct Chet Atkins style. He was also a student of classical guitar. He could play almost all of the things that Segovia had transcribed. He was quite serious about that. He made his money and became a legend in Nashville as a producer because he had such a great ear for talent.
FP: Tony Mottola.
BB: Tony, a lovely man. He was on the east coast. I didn’t work a lot with him. I did meet him a few times, though. One time he came out to California to work with Frank Sinatra as an opening act. They were doing a TV show and he called me and said "I left my L-5 in New York. Can I borrow yours?" I was doing The Tonight Show at NBC and he was in the studio right next to us. I brought my L-5 down and I’ll never forget what happened. Tony picked it up and played it and then said "Change the strings the next time you play this."
FP: That brings up an interesting point. When you’re called in to a recording session, do you naturally bring a variety of guitars with you?
BB: You have to. In the olden days (when one would be working everyday), the trunk of your car would be filled with a banjo, an electric guitar, a rhythm guitar (like the L-5), an acoustic guitar, and a twelve-string. You might also have thrown in a mandolin, but you would have hardly used it! I remember walking in the studio for a Doris Day date and looking at the chart. It called for a mandolin. Al Hendrickson and I were together for that session which was the recording of Doris’ "Que Sera Sera." As you recall, that had a lot of mandolin in it! Later on, the studios began to pay cartage like they did for drummers and harpists. So you had a big trunk made that could hold a dozen instruments in it, an extra amp, and all kinds of pedals and other special effects.
FP: Can you single out a particular guitarist that you would consider as being your personal hero or inspiration?
BB: No doubt about it. It was Django Reinhardt. I listened to his records when I was a kid and I couldn’t believe how meticulously he played and with such great ideas. This was back in 1934-35. He played out of the Hot Club in France. Another great influence on me was Les Paul. I know Les and feel that he hasn’t gotten the credit he deserves for what he has done for guitar players. Electronically, he’s a genius with his innovations with multi-track tape machines. There’s an interesting story. Les was doing a show with Bing Crosby, a fifteen-minute radio show. It was a daily show with the Les Paul Trio. Bing owned a great deal of Ampex stock. Les asked him why Ampex couldn’t come up with a two-track machine so that when he overdubbed, he could put two tracks on one tape (instead of going from one machine to another). Bing took the idea to Ampex and, by gosh, they came out with a two-track machine! And then Les said, "If you can do it with two tracks, why not four?" It took off from there. And, of course, Charlie Christian is an influence on anybody who plays electric guitar. You can’t help but be amazed by all of his ideas and the sound that he had.
FP: One last item, Bob. Do you have a word or two that you’d like to say to our friend Robert Farnon?
BB: Yes, I certainly do. I have never met you, Mr. Farnon, but I have played your arrangements while working with Pia Zadora for six nights in the theater. They played nothing but your arrangements. I enjoyed them so much. I have many of your albums. In fact, the first one I got was From The Emerald Isle. I still have it and it’s one of my favorites.
FP: Bob, thank you for talking with us and for really giving several generations so many fine performances through your work on recordings, television, films and concerts.
BB: It’s been a pleasure.
This article appeared in ‘Journal Into Melody’ December 2005