Hi neighbors and fellow strummers. These “musings” are intended to share some of the things I have learned over the years of banjo and ukulele history and lore, as well as some of the songs we find, listen to, and play. My goal is to both educate and enlighten by sharing what I have learned within the broader musical and historical context—with honesty and, at times, a bit of humor. Needless to say, your thoughts and comments are, as always, welcome.
For those of us following the news these days, a lot of reporters and commentators have written and opined on just who might find themselves facing the possibility of some form of judicial chastisement for their misdeeds or peccadillos.
However, gentle readers, while I am a bit too old to gaze too long into the roiling ink and pixel pots, I am reminded of a couple of apropos musical links–hence another (albeit apolitical!) musical musing. So, for starters, here is one of those “lesson” songs that seemingly has been around forever and recorded by just about everyone–a gentle earworm for the times that be.
“It’s a Sin to Tell a Lie” was written in 1936 by one Billy Mayhew. It began its recording odyssey with several dance bands and a couple of years later was jazzed up and popularized by Fats Waller. Click or tap on the triangles in the next couple of images to hear the contrasts.
Originally written as a waltz, Waller made it a fast four/four jazz tune. To me, however, it’s a bluesy, message tune—what I often call a “whiskey and cigarette” song—best heard in a darkish, smallish, oldish place with a piano, bass, and singer; or, maybe just a scratchy old 78 RPM disk. Here’s another version a bit more to my taste first recorded during World War II, a time of liaisons and partings and, I’m sure, promises made and broken.Click or tap on the triangle in the following image for a listen to the “Sweetheart of the Services.”
To me, an intriguing part of the song’s backstory is the composer, Billy Mayhew. After a search on Google, Wikipedia, and my few dozen or so books on the history of popular music, there is NO reference to be found other than his full name of William P. Mayhew—no biography, no obituary, no amusing anecdotes, no mention other than dozens of references to him as the composer of “It’s a Sin to Tell a Lie.” It doesn’t look like he wrote anything else and no one out there in musical history land seems to have pursued his story. Go figure.
Moving on . . . Here’s another newsworthy song from an entirely different musical genre. But, this time from a singer we know a lot about.
Many of you who watched the Ken Burns TV series on country music a couple of years ago are familiar with our next song. Along with “It’s a Sin . . .“, this one also seems ripped from today’s headlines.
If you don’t mind a bit of his signature yodeling, here is his take on this lively tune–another earworm! Click or tap on the triangle in the next image for a look and listen.
Rodgers’ version of “In the Jailhouse Now” was recorded in 1928 with Ellsworth Cozzins on the banjo. While Rogers got the credit because of his popularity, he didn’t actually write the song—it had been around for a dozen or so years. Needless to say, the song has been covered (and parodied) by hundreds of artists over the years.Here’s the cover of the earlier version.
Prior to 1930, several different versions of our song were recorded and copyrighted. The earliest is Davis and Stafford’s 1915 version, which has verses about a man named Campbell cheating at a card game and a corrupt election–How newsworthy today! Here’s a version with a political background, no less!
Click or tap on the triangles in the next couple images for a listen to, first, the original Memphis Jug Band and then a group from today that is keeping the jug band tradition alive. They have appeared on stage in our happy valley on several occasions–the Carolina Chocolate Drops.
Now, on to one last take on our Jailhouse song by the one and only Johnny Cash. When Cash recorded the song in 1962, he used a more humorous set of lyrics, based on the 1915 version. Click or tap on the triangle in the next image for a look and listen to his interpretation.
And, of course, a bit of philosophy from our singer that too, in its way, could be right out of the headlines!
So, read the newspapers, practice your yodeling, don’t tell lies, keep out of jailhouses, and–of course–STAY TUNED!
As many of you gentle readers are aware, I have been playing (alas, playing “at” rather than playing “well”) and collecting banjos and ukuleles since the 1950s. So, I thought it might be fun to muse a bit on my favorite type of ukulele marriage–the “banjo ukulele,” or as called by some, a “banjolele, or a just plain “banjo uke.” Please bear with me, gentle readers, but be prepared to be both entertained and enlightened. I hope!
Friends and colleagues have mentioned that, in these trying times, they have found my meant-to-be-merry musings on musical lore diverting if not soothing. Well, maybe not that soothing this time around! You might want to turn those hearing aids down a notch or two as we begin with–what else?--an overture! Click or tap on the triangle in the next image to see what can be done with a banjo uke. Get your earplugs on if you must because HERE WE GO!
This week’s musing on banjo ukuleles is a bit longer and a tad more rambling than usual. It focuses on an instrument and style of playing that some folks might find a bit off-putting but is, nonetheless, a part of our musical heritage. Many of us strummers think it’s the only way to go; others remain, shall we say, unenlightened and, in fact, disdainful!
Most of you gentle readers and fellow strummers know that my go-to instrument for those Tin Pan Alley, old-time, and country tunes we enjoy has long been a banjo ukulele. I have a newer “Gold Tone Deluxe” tenor banjo uke, tuned gCEA just like a standard ukulele, and a vintage 1920’s “Bruno” baritone banjo uke, tuned DGBE like the top four strings of a guitar. These are set up with nylon strings and the sound can be softened with a rubber violin mute, but only when absolutely necessary!
To a lot of folks the bright, percussive tone of a banjo ukulele is thrilling, to others an acquired taste, and to still others . . . well. But this variation of the traditional uke goes way back in musical history. This might be nothing more than a “drum with a stick attached to it,” but this little instrument is taking off and has found more than a few fans over the past hundred or so years.
In 1916, San Francisco resident John A. Bolander patented the first banjo ukulele. In 1922, Hawaiiian-born Californian Alvin Keech, a ukulele player and vaudevillian, found himself in post World WarI Paris performing on stage and in cafes. He and his brother, Kelvin, also made and sold several variations of banjo ukuleles that would become known as “Keech Banjuleles.” (Note the spelling.) Because of their musical and manufacturing efforts, the instrument became very popular in Europe, specifically France and Britain, and later in the US.
Here is one of their simple banjo ukes from the 1920s.
Most “Uke-ologists” credit Keech as the performing perfector and earliest promoter of the banjo uke if not the inventor. He perfected a fast-fingered strumming style that set the stage for banjo uke players of the day and set a goal for many today. Despite the fact that this is a “silent movie,” check out his fingering skills in both regular and slow motion. Click or tap on the triangle in the next image for a look if not a listen.
For some sound, here’s a look at a restored vintage Keech Banjulele in action today. Click or tap on the image to check it out.
Examples of banjo ukes from both sides of the Atlantic show, basically, a four-string standard soprano ukulele neck mounted on a six- to eight-inch cylindrical pot, or “drum,” with a skin head. In fact, banjos and banjo ukes soon became a lucrative sideline of big name drum manufacturers such as Slingerland and Ludwig.
Before the advent of the banjo ukulele, however, short necked eight-string, four-course banjo mandolins or “banjolins” were available—usually with a ten-inch head. So were four-string versions called “melody banjos” and a five string version called a “piccolo” banjo.
These were the “soprano voices” in the banjo bands or orchestras of the 1890s and early 1900s.
While banjo ukes are usually tuned in the standard gCEA, the melodies and banjolins were usually tuned in fifths like a mandolin or violin, GDAE.
The banjo uke became popular, particularly with vaudeville performers, because it was relatively simple to play, like a regular ukulele, and is, like a good “stage voice,” LOUD! Tap or click on the following image for an example performed in the “Keech style,” later and especially today called the “Formby style,” about which more later.
And, of course, there were many, many vaudeville or stage performers.
Some say that what drove the banjo uke into popularity, however, was that it was easier to build (read less expensive) than the more curvaceous, guitar-like standard ukulele. It was made up of a lot of interchangeable metal parts and the less expensive models required little fancy wood bending and finishing. You could even use a bit of an old log.
Or make big pieces out of little pieces.
This, coupled with the popularity of Tin Pan Alley ragtime tunes, made the brighter, jazzier tone of the banjo uke THE sound of the 1920s and put a banjo uke into the hands of thousands. It seems that everyone wanted to learn, and many folks made money from songbooks as well as instruments!
As with all musical instruments, there are low-end as well as high-end models. Here are a few top-of-the-liners. A Stromberg Voisenette . . .
A Gibson UB-2 with resonator . . .
A gold-plated Ludwig Professional . . .
Simple styles cost only a few of dollars in their day while fully decked out vintage models–when found– easily can cost thousands or more in today’s market. Alas, none of those are in my collection!
Anyway, banjo ukes are fun to look at, fun to play, fun to hear, and fun to collect.
And they are easy to decorate. A blank “canvas” so to speak!
They were popular with buskers and strummers in the sweet old days as well as now.
Now, I would be remiss if I didn’t include samples of two of the great banjo ukulele players of the past who epitomized the fast-fingered Keech/Formby styles, both British. First, there’s Tessie O’Shea who headlined alongside the Beatles when they did their famous first appearance on the Ed Sullivan TV Show.
Their joint appearance drew what was then the largest audience in the history of American television. Imagine that for a banjo uke player! Click or tap on the triangle in the next image for this YouTube if you have a few minutes!
And then, on to the King of the fast-finger players and the performer who gave his name to the style as played today, George Formby. Just imagine the generosity, wit, musicality, and personality of Bob Hope, Danny Kaye, Steve Martin, and Jerry Lewis wrapped up in one British music hall and film star.
His toothy grin became known to a worldwide audience through his many films of the 1930s and 1940s and his entertainment of the troops during World War II. On stage, screen, and records he sang light, comical songs and became the UK’s highest-paid entertainer. Some say that he made the banjo ukulele famous and he certainly made his fast style of play the goal of many players.
You might wish for sub-titles with this one, but this is one of his signature tunes. Click or tap on the triangle in the next image to watch and listen.
Playing in his fast-paced signature style is the goal of many of today’s banjo uke players and there are George Formby Society (GFS) clubs all over Britain. Needless to say, the banjo uke is HUGE in the UK!
Now, to wind things up, here is the quintessential George Formby song as performed by the United Kingdom Ukulele Orchestra. Click or tap for a treat!
Alas, there isn’t anyone playing a banjo uke in this performance. Those folks are virtuoso ukulele players but it’s the Formby signature song that’s important.
But, of course, no one should be without a handy banjo uke! It can certainly play an essential role when necessary, so to speak.
Warning, gentle readers! Don’t try the above pose with this one!
Anyway, stay well, remain modestly dressed, turn those hearing aids back on, learn to love the banjo uke–and STAY TUNED!
Here we are in first few weeks of the baseball season—alas, with our beloved Red Sox off to a slooooooooow start. But, anyway, it’s altogether fitting and proper to check out that iconic old musical chestnut from 1908, “Take Me Out to the Ball Game.” Most of us only know the chorus but, surprisingly the two verses put a bit of a feminine twist to the whole thing. For our first pitch, here’s a version from Ken Burns’ “Baseball” PBS series to get us into the mood. Have your beers and hot dogs ready!
Backing up a bit, our song was written by vaudeville star Jack Norworth (1879-1959) . . .
and Tin Pan Alley composer Albert Von Tilzer (1878-1956)
These men wrote and published hundreds of songs from that era. However, it’s interesting to note that while this song has become the unofficial anthem of American baseball, neither of its authors had attended a baseball game prior to writing the song! Go figure.
There are a lot of baseball songs out there from that era but our song is the grand-daddy—or more accurately, as we shall see—the grand-momma of them all.
The backstory goes that, while riding a New York subway train, Norworth was inspired by a sign that said “Base Ball Today—Polo Grounds.” He quickly wrote the lyrics about a “girl named Katie” whose boyfriend asks her out to see a vaudeville show. She accepts the date but, being “baseball mad,” will agree only if he will take her out to “the ball game.” The words were then sent to music by Tilzer and the rest is baseball, and musical, history. While performed by many singers and bands of the era, it wasn’t played at a ballpark until 1934, at a California high school game. Later that year, however, it was played during the 1934 World Series.
Click or tap on the triangle in the next image for the song with all its verses. Time for another hot dog!
“Take Me Out to the Ball Game” was selected by the National Endowment for the Arts and the Recording Industry Association of America as number eight of the top “Songs of the Century” as being “culturally, historically, or aesthetically significant.”
If you are a Chicago Cubs fan, the best interpretation of our song is by their late, great ballpark announcer Harry Caray who sang it at the seventh inning of every home game. Click or tap on the triangle in the next image for a look and listen while munching on a “Chicago” hot dog.
Norworth’s original lyrics, written on an envelope and complete with annotations, are on display at the National Baseball Hall of Fame in Cooperstown, New York—a rare “working document.”
The song shows up in the movies:
Click or tap on the triangle in the next image for a look and listen. How many hot dogs can you eat? Buuuurp . . .
Since the 111-year-old song has been in the public domain for decades now, hundreds of recordings have been made in a WIDE variety of interpretations. Needless to say, there are a couple of hundred on YouTube to pick from. Click or tap on the triangles in the next images if you have the time and inclination. Hey beer man, send a couple of ice colds our way!
And, of course!
Oh yes, for the uninitiated this is what a “Chicago” hot dog is all about!
Those of you who watched the Ken Burns PBS special series on Country Music a couple of years ago are probably aware of the history of southwestern Virginia’s Carter Family and their early recordings. These—and the radio broadcasts that featured their music—cemented them and their work as true American musical pioneers.
The original group consisted of Sara Carter, her husband A.P. Carter, and her cousin and sister-in-law Maybelle Carter. All three grew up immersed in the tight harmonies of mountain gospel music and shape-note singing. They were the first group to perform their style of music on the radio in the 1920s.
The most haunting of their songs is the ballad “Wildwood Flower.” The Carter Family reworked a much older song and gave us this lament of a young woman whose “true love” turned out to be a two-timing rascal who made off with someone else. Our heroine—who calls herself a “pale wildwood flower”—reflects on and then rejects her sad state.
She then vows to move on while wishing her roaming ex-lover his “regrets.” You go, girl! How many times have we heard this story in musical genres from blues to country to rap? This song is the grandmama of them all!
Click or tap on the triangle in the next image for a listen to this scratchy oldie.
Of particular interest to music historians is Maybelle Carter’s innovative guitar playing style, dubbed the “Carter Scratch.” She played melody with her thumb on the low strings and harmony on the high ones—a finger picking style adopted by many folksingers today. For a look and listen, tap or click on the triangle in the next image.
Now for a bit of back story. The earlier song that the Carters “harvested,” was published in 1860 with music composed by Joseph Philbrick Webster and words by Maud Irving. It was titled “I’ll Twine ‘Mid the Ringlets.“
Webster was a New Englander, studied music in Boston, and–as a classical singer–had performed with Jenny Lind. His most popular work was the hymn “In the Sweet Bye and Bye.”
Maud Irving, on the other hand, was a pseudonym used by one J. William Van Namee, a poet and spiritualist who used this more feminine name when his rather eclectic poetry was published in the “lady’s magazines” of the day.
Needless to say, many other versions of the song evolved in the decades before the Carter Family “harvested it from the hills” and remade it their own. But, to give Webster his due, click or tap on the triangle in the next image for a listen to his hymn by a singer who married the daughter of Maybelle Carter in later years. All in the family!
Now click or tap on the triangle in the next image to hear Webster’s original song performed by Robin and Linda Williams, with a good introduction:
The Carter version includes a line about “wishing his regrets.” But the original lyrics clearly show that our young lady remains heartbroken and this lays out the sad, tragic nature of the song. On the other hand, the Carters seem to have given us an updated version with—to me—a bit more upbeat ending. Was this an early attempt to keep a song commercially viable for a rural radio audience in the hard times of the 1920s? Hmmm . . .
On a further note, the melody of our song had another well-known reincarnation.
It was used by that famous re-worker of traditional melodies, Woodie Guthrie, in his song: “The Sinking of the Reuben James”—a musical plea to “remember the names” of the 100 sailors who perished in the 1941 sinking of the American convoy escort USS Reuben James, the first U.S. Navy ship sunk by German U-Boats in World War II.
Later, during the war, Guthrie served with the US Merchant Marine on convoy duty and twice survived torpedo attacks himself. Who knew? Click or tap on the triangle in the next image for a look and listen.
Goes to show—you can always tweak an old song with a few new lyrics; and—in folk or country music— with second-hand songs you can’t keep a good melody down.
Keep on the lookout for second hand songs and, of course, STAY TUNED!
The “San Francisco Bay Blues” is one of great blues tunes of the past seventy-five or so years, played by many folks in a lot of venues. It’s a great blues tune written by a great performer–a one-of-a-kind, one-man band!
A one-man-band rendition of the song—featuring a kazoo solo—was recorded by Jesse “Lone Cat” Fuller (1896-1976) in 1962 and included in the Smithsonian Folkways compilation titled “Friends of Old Time Music.”
For openers, click or tap on the triangle in the next image for a look and listen.
“San Francisco Bay Blues” is considered an American folk/blues song and is the best known—and most often performed—composition by Fuller who first recorded the song in 1954. The song was brought into wider popularity in the early 1960s by club performances by Ramblin’ Jack Elliot and Bob Dylan. Covers have been performed by many artists including Jim Croce, Eric Clapton, The Weavers, and Peter, Paul, and Mary just to touch on a few.
Click or tap on the triangle in the next image to hear how these folks interpreted Fuller’s song.
Fuller was born in Jonesboro, Georgia, and, growing up, worked at numerous jobs: grazing cows for ten cents a day; working in a barrel factory, a broom factory, and a rock quarry; working on a railroad and for a streetcar company; shining shoes; and even peddling hand-carved wooden snakes. Whew!
By the age of 10, he was playing the guitar. In the 1920s he worked his way to California and settled in Oakland, across the bay from San Francisco, where he worked on the railroad for many years as a fireman, spike driver, and maintenance man.
During World War II he worked as a shipyard welder, but when the war ended he found it increasingly difficult to find work. So, around the early 1950s, Fuller began to consider the possibility of making a living as a musician.
Up to this point, Fuller had never worked as a professional musician, but he was an accomplished guitarist and had busked for money by passing the hat. He had a good memory for songs and had a large repertoire of crowd-pleasers in diverse styles from blues to country. He began to compose songs, many of them based on his experiences on the railroads, playing them in his syncopated style.
Click or tap on the triangles in the next couple of images for some of his railroad tunes.
When Fuller set out to make a career as a musician, he had difficulty finding reliable musicians to work with. Thus, his one-man-band act was born.
Fuller could play several instruments simultaneously, particularly with the use of a headpiece to hold a harmonica, kazoo, and microphone. In addition, he would generally include at least one tap dance, soft-shoe, or buck and wing in his sets, accompanying himself on a 12-string guitar as he danced.
His style was open and engaging. In typical busker’s fashion, he addressed his audiences as “ladies and gentlemen,” told humorous anecdotes, and cracked jokes between songs.
During those one-man-band years, Fuller also devised a new kind of instrument he called a “fotdella,” a big six string bass viol that he played with his foot via a system of pedals and levers. To complete his rig, he had a right foot pedal for the fotdella, a left foot pedal to run a high-hat cymbal, and a harness to hold a harmonica and kazoo. While sitting down in the middle of all this, he also sang and played a twelve-string guitar. Whew!
Quite a repertoire from a San Francisco busker whose performances might be called “solo ensembles.”
In the late ’50s and early ’60s, Fuller became one of the key figures of the blues revival, helping bring the music to a new, younger audience. Throughout the ’60s and ’70s he toured America and Europe, appearing at numerous blues and folk festivals, as well as countless coffeehouse gigs across the U.S.
Now that you have learned his story, click or tap on the triangle in the next image to see Fuller in action one more time!
Fuller continued performing and recording until his death in 1976.
So, be inventive when you play or listen to music. Who knows where art will be found, when, and at what age. And, oh yes. STAY TUNED
This week’s musing lets me drift off in astronomical directions. With the much ballyhooed total eclipse of the sun coming up on Monday, I think that it’s time, however, to seek out and place the blame on the culprit!
And, after intensive research on the internet (and in my collection of songbooks), I believe I have the the answer. It’s the moon getting in the way! Bad, bad, guilty, jealous moon!
Moving on . . . I’m not one to belittle the opinions of those who believe our moon to be a big rock rolling around in our sky. I would be remiss not to report my scientific findings–1) The moon is NOT made of green cheese, and 2) The Moon is actually made of PAPER! Thus leading me to say . . .
. . . there’s a song about that!
“It’s Only a Paper Moon” is one of those befuddled-lover songs of the jazz age when moon- and star-light set the scene for what, I am sure, was innocent romance. This song plays on this as the singer begs his or her sweetie to “believe.” Our song was published in 1933 with music by Harold Arlen and lyrics by Yip Harburg and Billy Rose.
Also, for some reason beyond my rudimentary research skills, a seat in the form of an artificial moon (probably plywood rather than paper) was often used in those days as a prop on the vaudeville stage and in photo studios. Click or tap on the triangle in the next image for further proof of this, and to hear the earliest recording of our song.
Whether or not these lunar seating devices had anything to do with our song or the dozens of other “Moon” songs that were hits of the day, who knows. What fun we had in the days before we were possessed by screens and selfies and a “moon shot” could be had in your local dimestore photo booth!
Needless to say, more enduring recordings that assured the song’s place in the Great American Songbook were made in the 1940s by the likes of Ella Fitzgerald, Benny Goodman, and a slew of others. For a New England tune . .
. . . click or tap on the triangle in the next image.
So, here’s to the many folks who took a ride on a paper moon, under a cardboard sky and left us wondering. The moon–a culprit, or a cliche?
And, finally, a movie version of the prelude to a historic solar eclipse. From this we can learn the “magic words” and we can try it ourselves! Click or tap on the triangle in the next image for a peek.
Alas, I digress. I’ve been sidetracked by the lunar vs. solar shenanigans of the day, but I’ll wind up this musical musing with a couple of songs that actually do play on the ECLIPSE theme.
“Total Eclipse of the Heart” was recorded by the Welsh singer Bonnie Tyler back in 1982. It’s a bit of a stretch, being more “heart” than “solar.” But, why not make a place for it in this musing? Click or tap on the triangle in the next image for a look and listen to her Grammy Award nominated performance.
Now here’s a second song, one that actually touches (ever so briefly, however) on a Solar Eclipse. Woo hoo! “You’re So Vain” is a song written and performed by American singer and songwriter Carly Simon. Click or tap on the triangle in the next image for a look and listen to what was nominated as the Song of the Year in 1972.
Now, get your eclipse glasses on . . .
. . . and take a well-shaded peek at what used to be the sun and remember who the defacing culprit is. You learned it here!
But, the moon will move on and the sun will comes back stronger than ever! STAY TUNED!
Sorry, gentle readers, but calendric quirks force me to dig into my holiday file a bit early this year.Anyway, why not? Thanks to the folks who invented Leap Year, it’s been confirmed that Easter is about as early in the year as it can be. So, let’s jump ahead and take a look at that most non-bunny, non-religious of holiday songs–“Easter Parade.”
I’m sure that quite a few of you will be having some sort of Easter celebrations with family and friends–in person, on Zoom, even by old-fashioned telephone. By any means, I hope that your Easter baskets are as much musically fun as these!
To crack this seasonal egg, let me delve into a bit of musical history and a little musical mind-candy. We all could use some of that before we suit up for the parade this Sunday.We ARE going to parade down the avenue, aren’t we?
That’s one way to suit up but, as an architect, I feel the need to expand on the dress code just a tad. But, I digress.
Moving on, “Easter Parade” is nothing more than a simple boy-girl romancing song written around that depression-era fashion parade on New York’s most fashionable street—5th Avenue. It’s an event that lives on today albeit in a slightly less modest form.
Our song was written in 1933 by Irving Berlin who, not being one to waste a good thing, had originally written the melody in 1917 for another song called “Smile and Show your Dimple”. . .
. . . a “cheer-up” song for a girl whose guy had gone off to fight in World War I.
Tap or click on the triangle in the next image for a musical treat (of sorts).
This tune achieved modest success during the war years, but was soon forgotten—by everyone except Berlin. He resurrected it with a few modifications and new, quite secular “holiday” lyrics and title for the 1933 Broadway revue “As Thousands Cheer.”
Tap or click on the triangle in the next image for a listen to “Easter Parade” as it was performed in the original musical review. Believe it or not, it’s the four-time academy award nominee actor Clifton Webb’s voice on the early recording!Nothing “cheaper by the dozen” here.
As with most of Berlin’s songs, it later appeared in several musical movies of which the 1948 “Easter Parade,” with Judy Garland and Fred Astaire, remains the quintessential, sweet (some might say “saccharine”) version.
In fact, the whole film was written around the song. Click or tap on the triangle in the next image for what was, in its day, a cinematic Easter treat.
Irving Berlin (1888-1989) was widely considered one of the greatest songwriters in American history. Born Israel Beilin in Imperial Russia, Berlin arrived in the United States at the age of five. He published his first song, “Marie from Sunny Italy” in 1907 and received 33 cents for the publishing rights. That would pay for a spaghetti meal with a meatball, if not bread, in those days. I assume.
Click or tap on the triangle in the next image for a listen to this oldie by Irving.
The publisher misspelled his name on the sheet music and, ever after, “Beilin” became “Berlin.”
It is commonly believed that Berlin couldn’t read sheet music and was such a limited piano player that he could only play in the key of F-sharp. He “cheated” with a special piano he had made with levers that would allow him to change keys. It’s now in the Smithsonian Museum of American History!
So, as a kickoff to Easter Sunday, we have a Jewish songwriter, an immigrant born in Russia, who gave us this quintessential Easter song—only in America! He also wrote “White Christmas,” and of course, “God Bless America.”
So, let’s wrap up our Easter musical musing with–what else?–street band treatment of “Easter Parade.” Click or tap on the triangle in the next image for a down home treat. What’s not to like?
And, of course, one of the earlier film versions. Click or tap on the triangle in the next image for a look and listen. Who knew that Don Ameche could sing?
So, have your own kind of Easter fun this year, whether secular or sacred. Wear a beautiful bonnet . . .
Try to hide those Easter eggs where only you can find them . . .
Well, I assume that most of us are now aware that there is an election headed our way in just a few more months. I assume also that most of us will be able to vote one way or another and to have that vote counted one way or another. And, to add a bit of a historical flourish to this election in 2024, most of us are aware that the 19th Amendment to the US Constitution, passed in 1920, finally allowed most of the other half of America to vote—Women! So, vote for that hometown boy Calvin Coolidge! Ooops. That was 1924 not 2024.Oh, well . . .
The international “Women’s Suffrage” movement was born in Europe and the USA back in the mid-19th Century . . .
. . . but women’s right to vote didn’t get adopted by all forty-eight states until that constitutional amendment was adopted a hundred years ago.
During the last few weeks, newspapers and television were full of stories about this bit of American history, particularly during Women’s History Month. But, gentle readers, just what does this have to do with my weekly musings about music? Well, you need to start early with music and, of course, with the thought of voting!
Moving on, demonstrations and marching were big parts of the Women’s Suffrage movement . . .
. . . and so-called “Suffragettes” (the feminized form of Suffragist, for you grammarians out there) were energized by many marching songs.
Alas, there seems to be a dearth of recordings or YouTubes of any of these marches. They are probably seen as a bit too maudlin or “dirge-like” for modern ears, but here is one just to give a taste. The pictures are pretty good however. Tap or click on the triangle in the next image for a look and listen.
In those days, there were the Suffragette songs done in the more popular manner that became best selling products of Tin Pan Alley, or its British equivalent, and the nascent recording industry.Many parlor piano playing women loved to turn the musical tables on the men of the family!
Most men who were not suffragists simply pouted, sipped their beer, and made a grudging attempt to do unfamiliar household chores.
Needless to say, many popular songs reflected this!
Here’s a take on this ragtime tune. Click or tap on the triangle in the next image for a listen and look.
Here’s a more modern take on some of these tunes. Give a click or tap on the triangle in the next image for some fun.
I was able to find a newer version of this British music hall tune! Click or tap on the triangle in the next next image for a listen. The lyrics are pretty timeless.
There were, as would be expected, many popular songs that reflected the rather confused and confusing thoughts on both sides of the issue.
And, then, there were the songs of the so-called “Antis,” those men and (yes) women who opposed giving the right to vote to women.
Well, just to give equal time, here’s a tune of the ANTI-suffragette movement. Its a bit cringeworthy, but at least its short! Click or tap on the triangle in the next image if you must!
So, whether you are a Suffragist or a Suffragette, vote proudly and thoughtfully for the candidate of your—not necessarily your partner’s or spouse’s—choice!
This musical musing has been a favorite with friends and neighbors over the past several years. That’s why I pull it out of the file drawer, tweak it here and there, and send it out year after year. It’s fun for both for Alison and me even though our ancestral roots to Ireland are a tad more orange than green!
Anyway, musical tales of the “Emerald Isle” and St. Patrick’s Day are low hanging fruit for Alison and me who have, indeed, bent over backwards and actually kissed the Blarney Stone! There are, however, way too many blossoms and branches on this tree for a simple musical musing. Nonetheless, with a dram or two (or three) of Jameson “in the jar,” try I must and do I will.
Because of the plethora of Irish and Irish-related songs out there, I’m just going to continue with my rove of some of the more interesting that I have found. Just have a good listen and look, sure and with the blessing of the Good Saint!Move to the next tune if you tire, or come back after you’ve drawn a fresh pint. Just be prepared to do a jig or two!
A rowdy celebration of St. Patrick’s Day is a big deal in the US but only lately in Ireland itself. It was always a religious holiday over there but seldom rowdier than a night of music and good “craic” (definition later) at the neighborhood public house or “pub.”
With pub bands, the four-string tenor banjo is traditional. It doesn’t quite sound like the bluegrass or old-time banjo playing styles we hear around here. It’s a bit more like mandolin picking. So, tap or click on the triangle in the next image to listen to the late, great Irish banjo player with the Dubliners, Barney McKenna.
Of course, there is a long, long tradition of Irish music going way back to the early days. Irish–and similarly, Scottish, Welsh, and English–traditional music has been collected, studied, and played to this day. It’s known as Celtic music, pronounced “Keltic.” That’s for music; for basketball its “Seltic.”
Leave it to say that the “Keltic” pronunciation (from the Greek “keltoi“) is preferred by those who study the Celtic culture, language, and history, to the point that if you call it anything else, they’ll be lookin’ down on you. But if you are attending a game in Boston, you’ll be rootin’ for the “Seltics” (from the old French “celtique“).Go figure.
Much of the early Celtic music we know followed the Ulster (Scots/Irish) migrations to the US and Canada in the 17th and 18th centuries. This “first wave” migration of mostly Protestant “Orangemen” settled in the mountainous frontiers of America, such as Appalachia, and their music became the foundation on which today’s old-time, hillbilly, country/western, and bluegrass music was built.
As another linguistic aside, Scots/Irish followers of William of Orange, in the “Glorious Revolution” of 1688 were known as “Billy’s Boys” and were identified by their bright red neck scarves. Settled in America, over the years they became “hillbillies” and “red-necks.” Now you know!
“The Wearing of the Green” is a traditional Irish ballad lamenting the repression of supporters of the “Rebellion of 1798” against British rule. It is based on an old Irish air, and many versions of the lyric exist proclaiming that “they are hanging men and women for the wearing o’ the green,”the color of the shamrock adopted by these supporters.
Click or tap on the triangle in the next image to listen to this early Irish song that is still sung today.
Later, during the potato famine–“starvin’ times”– of the mid- 19th century, these traditional dance tunes and nostalgic ballads from Ulster and the lower counties of Ireland were carried to towns and cities all over the world with the diaspora of mostly Catholic Irish immigrants. While the early migration brought traditional Celtic music to the American countryside and mountains, the later, “second wave” migration spawned newer, Irish/American music in the cities.
It was in American cities where musical nostalgia for the “Old Sod,” or “Emerald Isle,” rose and American/Irish songs were born. Here’s one from the early 1900s.
Click or tap on the triangle in the next image for a look and listen to this oldie.
Needless to say, American sheet music publishers profited, particularly as Irish immigrants found their way into the workplace, settled themselves in towns and neighborhoods, and brought their music into their pubs and parlors.
How about this one from 1915.
Tap or click on the triangle in the following image for the song and the scenery.
Now here’s one originally published in 1901 that has become a favorite among barbershop singers to this day.
Click or tap on the triangle in the next image for a “one-man quartet” version of this oldie!
Needless to say, the “Irish theme” was quickly picked up by enterprising songwriters—most of them non-Irish, many Jewish—on New York’s Tin Pan Alley and performed on Vaudeville stages and parlor pianos throughout the country. Needless to say, The whimsical, often satirical, and too often pejorative portrayal of the Irish immigrant rose in popularity.
Alas, no YouTubes of these. Perhaps for the better!
There are a few dozen YouTubes of the next one, however.It’s been around since 1898!
Click or tap on the triangle in the next image for a look and listen.
After 1860, Irish Americans also wrote songs to reflect the discrimination they felt first in England and then as newcomers in America.The protest song “No Irish Need Apply” was inspired by this. It’s the pride of this latter migration, however, that gave us St. Patrick’s day as we know it in this country and the “wearin’ o’ the green” that is celebrated today.
Click or tap on the triangle in the next image for a more contemporary take on this old, old lament.
And, let’s not forget the great Irish tenors of the past—a unique contribution to popular vocal music. Anyone remember Dennis Day on the Jack Benny radio show? And that great English/American/Irish Song . . .
Tap or click on the triangle in the next image for a listen.
In Ireland, the fellowship, banter, and fun conversation over a pint or a few at the local pub is said to be “good craic!” (Pronounced: crack.) And, a pub is a favorite venue for song.
Here, folks with pints in hand will shout/sing chorus after chorus as the house band runs through verse after verse. Here is what is said to be the most popular tune of this tradition— “The Wild Rover.”
Tap or click on the the image below to join the crowd at the neighborhood pub!
To end on a bit o’ good craic, let’s not forget the other musical Irish saints, such as the good Saint Ukulelaigh, patron saint of we strummers.Now you know!(Sorry. The influence of the Blarney Stone.)
So, Avoid rowdy Saint Patrick’s Day crowds, stay as green and sober as you need be, . . .
. . . and dance away!
Now, be sure to enjoy whatever craic you may be given or give, wear a wee bit o’ the green (or orange), and . . . STAY O’TUNED!
During the so-called “roaring ‘20s,” jobs were plentiful for men and available for women who had to work for a living. Confidence and prosperity were in the air and the Great Depression of the ‘30s was years away. Still, a few songs reflected the simple things of life—just having a good time, just getting by, not going it alone. A couple of songs in our songbooks remind us of this musical point in history: “Side by Side,” and “Ain’t We Got Fun.”
A simple song that tells a simple story is the 1927 tune “Side by Side.” This was written by Harry Woods (1896-1970), a Massachusetts native and Tin Pan Alley songwriter of many musical hits of the day. Click or tap on the triangle in the next image for a look and listen to this tune as filmed during World War II.
A couple of other tunes Woods wrote that show up in our songbooks are “When the Red, Red Robin Comes Bob, Bob, Bobin’ Along,” and “I’m Looking Over a Four-Leaf Clover.”
He composed his songs on the piano despite the fact that a birth defect had left him with a deformed left hand. Amazing!
Needless to say, dozens of other performers recorded the song all the way into the 1990s. With simple lyrics and a simple beat, it was a favorite “shuffle dance” duet on the vaudeville stage.
Moving on, “Ain’t We Got Fun” is a jaunty foxtrot recorded a few years earlier with music by Richard Whiting (1891-1938) and lyrics by Raymond Egan (1890-1952) and Gus Kahn (1886-1941)—all stalwarts of the Tin Pan Alley music scene during the Jazz Age and beyond.
Click or tap on the triangle in the next image to look, listen, and sing along with this one!
As folks were finding their way through the social and economic maze of the Great Depression, there were always songs touching on the brighter side of things. Wishful thinking, I presume, but they kept spirits afloat if not high above water!
“Painting the Clouds with Sunshine” was published in 1929. It was composed by Joe Burke (1884-1950) with lyrics by Al Dubin (1891-1945) for the musical film “Gold Diggers of Broadway.” Another of their collaborations was “Tiptoe Through the Tulips With Me.” Just for fun, click or tap on the triangle in the next image for a look and listen.
Now, since I am a bit of a banjo fanatic, I can’t pass up a rendering of our song by another Massachusetts native, the great plectrum banjo player Eddie Peabody (1902-1970). I can’t vouch for his singing voice, but his banjo technique is both unique and superb! Click or tap on the triangle in the next image for a listen.
For those of you who might not be as banjo nuts as I, a plectrum banjo has 22 frets, four strings, and is played with a flat pick or “plectrum.”
Because of their universal themes, a variety of timely verses have been added and subtracted to these songs by performers over time. These songs, despite their jocularity, reveal a certain resignation to economic forces beyond the control of working people. They gave everyone a look on the brighter side.
“We’re In the Money” was written for the 1933 film “Gold Diggers of 1933” and is sung in the opening sequence by Ginger Rogers and the chorus. The music was written by Harry Warren (1893-1981) with lyrics by our friend Al Dubin. They collaborated on many, many songs including most of the musical “42nd Street.” Click or tap on the triangle in the next image for a look and listen to the film version of our song.
Oh why not? Click or tap on the triangle in the next image to see how this song was handled in the movie “42nd Street.”
So, here we have some simple songs that reflect the optimism—despite the uncertainties—of the so-called “sweet old days.” What will the songs and stories of today tell our grandchildren—uncertainties tempered with optimism; or, optimism tempered with uncertainties? Go figure.
NOHOBANJO OF NORTHAMPTON, AND NOW EASTHAMPTON, "MUSICAL MUSINGS" 