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 formal chastisement for their misdeeds or peccadillos. However, gentle readers, I am, of course, not one to gaze too long into the roiling ink and pixel pots. Still, I am reminded of a couple of apropos musical links and, hence, another (apolitical, OF COURSE!) musical musing.
Talk about an earworm! Here is another one of those songs from our songbooks that has been around forever and recorded by just about everyone.
A note, gentle readers. After all of my postings over the past several years you should understand by now that to listen to one of the embedded YouTube videos, just click on the white triangle in the red box. Got it?
Moving on, “It’s a Sin to Tell a Lie” is a popular song 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.
The Ink Spots made this one of
their standards.
Originally written as a waltz, Waller made it a fast jazz tune, and—in the 1950s—it began being played by almost everyone in a fast four/four tempo.
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. Maybe just a scratchy old 78 RPM disk. A fast four/four? I don’t know; I’m a bit too old for that!
Now here’s a version first recorded during World War II, a time of liaisons and partings and, I’m sure, promises made and broken.
And, of course, the ultimate jazz singer of the day.
To me, an intriguing part of the song’s backstory is the composer, Billy Mayhew. After a search on Google, Wikipedia, and my 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.
Anyway, do you have an earworm yet? If not, here’s one more!
So, in these heady days of “news” and “proclamations,” take heed to at least the title of our song . . .
Having “retired” from posting my weekly “Musical Musings,” I plan on continuing, but in a less complicated and time consuming manner. Some may call this a “lazy man’s way of working.” I’ll just call it “recycling.” So, here is a timely musing from last year. Enjoy and STAY TUNED!
Rarely in my weekly musings do I focus on a single song, but the beginning of a new month gives this old “greyhair” of a music and musical theater buff an opportunity too good to let pass by. Oh yes, I know that Monday is Labor Day and I have to put my white shoes and straw hats on the shelf. But, let’s take a look at something else a bit more calendric.
It’s a melancholy song, rather than sad, and it sort of suits my mood these days as we head into the last few months of this bewildering year of 2024. So, let’s glance back eighty or so years and take an over-the-shoulder look and listen to what has become an American musical standard appropriate for this month: “September Song.”
Our song was written for the now almost forgotten Broadway musical “Knickerbocker Holiday,” starring Walter Huston (1883-1950), that premiered in 1938.
The book and lyrics were written by Maxwell Anderson and the music composed by Kurt Weill. The story is loosely based on Washington Irving’s “Father Knickerbocker Stories” about life in the 17th century Dutch “New Netherland” colony in America—old New York.
The musical is a romantic comedy with a thinly disguised ribbing of Roosevelt’s “New Deal” and of authoritarian governments in general. After all, it was the late 1930s. Sadly, the book didn’t sit well with either critics or audiences and the show didn’t last too long. “September Song“, however, lives on and on. Be that as it may, gentle readers, we’ll just leave the vagaries of political/theater history to be explored by others. We’ll simply muse along with the music.
Maxwell Anderson (1888-1959) was a prolific American playwright, author, poet, journalist, and lyricist. But, by the 1920s, his progressive take on politics pushed him away from journalism. He soon found his true calling in more creative forms of writing . . .
. . . and became one of the most prolific writers of historical plays and films of his day. He was particularly noted for adapting novels and other literary works for both Broadway and Hollywood.
Kurt Weill (1900-1950) was a German composer actively working, with his wife the singer and actress Lotte Lenye, from the 1920s in his native Berlin and in their later years as American citizens.
He was a leading composer for the stage and was best known for his fruitful collaborations with playwrite Bertolt Brecht, including their best-known and still performed work “The Threepenny Opera.”
The plot of “Knickerbocker Holiday” is a bit convoluted but basically it’s the tale of Peter Stuyvesant, a Dutchman both arrogant and a bit long in the tooth , who was sent to America in the 1600s by the government of Holland to serve as the governor of the “New Netherland” colony.
The musical dwells on the comi-tragic interactions between the colonial governor and the stubborn, independent-minded colonials. Needless to say, that was a typical political reality in America in those colonial days!All this was done with plenty of singing and dancing, no less.
In the context of the musical, “September Song” is a lyrical metaphor comparing a single year to a person’s entire life span from birth to death. Here, the song is sung by Huston, a Broadway idol in his day (but, alas, not the best of vocalists) in the starring role of the curmudgeonly, peg-legged Stuyvesant.
The song is a smitten but older man’s wooing song (lament, really) addressed to a colonial maiden that has caught his roving eye. She is, of course, desirable but, alas, much younger and, ultimately, disinterested. The premise of the song is that, in the eyes of the elderly Stuyvesant, the courting activities of young folks and the objects of their desire are, at best, transient and time-wasting. So,why not choose him now, he sings, while there is still time! As an older suitor, Stuyvesant pleads that he hasn’t “got time for the waiting game.”
Our plucky heroine, of course, brushes aside his advances and runs to the waiting arms (albeit locked in the punishment stocks) of a young and handsome colonial rabblerouser who (I said the plot was convoluted!) was about to be hanged for “disobedience” to colonial rule or some such thing. To our young hero’s delight and relief, the specifics of the hanging sentence were, to the least, unclear. And the play goes on . . .
Today some folks would probably chant “#MeToo” as Huston sang away but, that was eighty innocent years ago before such things as hashtags. Anyway, we “greyhairs” who may also be a bit long in the tooth can relate to the song’s metaphorical image of the passage of time. You youngsters—just you wait a few decades!
Moving on, here are the original lyrics–verses as well as chorus–as sung in the musical by Huston. This puts the whole song into context. Click or tap on the triangle in the next image for this.
You might not recognize Huston in his early “Knickerbocker role.” Here he is a few decades later as one of Hollywood’s great character actors. Who would have thought?
Here he is in the film “The Treasure of Sierra Madre” For which he won an Oscar. An interesting bit of family history is that his son John and grandaughter Angelica have also won Acadamy Awards!
Over the decades, “September Song” has evolved into a minor-key jazz and pop standard performed by many singers over the years–young, old, male, female –and it’s worth listening to a few other interpretations. It was featured in the 1944 movie version, also called “Knickerbocker Holiday,” and sung by character actor Charles Coburn who played Stuyvesant as even more comic and buffoonish than Huston.
Alas, there seems to be no YouTube of Coburn’s rendition of our song. But the whole movie is there if you have the hour or so, and the inclination, these “precious days.”
Here is Coburn, to the left, with a “baroque” wooden leg. The young hearthrob is the really good singer Nelson Eddy and the comely conquest is Constance Dowling. Needless to say, the movie suffered through a MAJOR rewrite to switch the lead to the young and handsome Eddy. At least Stuyvesant’s song remained.
The recording of our song that reached the top of the charts, however, was made in 1946, by a much younger and better singer than either Huston or Coburn, Frank Sinatra. He leaves out the verses that provide the song’s context, however, and really only does the chorus. Musical license, I guess; but musical cheeseparing nonetheless.
Click or tap on the triangle in the next image to listen to what became one of Sinatra’s signature songs over the decades.
A more recent “greyhair” to tackle this tune was Willie Nelson in 1978. Click or tap on the next image for his melancholy interpretation. Again, only the chorus without context.
Now–performing well out of his usual clownish character–is a surprisingly good take on “September Song” by, of all people, Jimmie Durante. Tap or click on the next image for this. I think that this “greyhair” really captures the poignancy of the song. And, it includes the verses! Context makes a difference; you might want to grab a hankie!
Since this musing is, lest we forget, about music and my favorite little musical instrument–the ukulele, I can’t resist digressing. The time setting of “Knickerbocker Holiday” coincides with the so-called Dutch “Golden Age” of commerce and art and, needless to say, a lot of art of the period touches on musical themes. I’m sure, of course, that these strummers and singers are using 17th century versions of our favorite three-chord song books!
I’m sure that somewhere in the New Netherland colony of our musical there was a lute or two to be found. But the only apropos reference to a ukulele that I could find is, well, a bit more modern–but from the ancient New Netherland village of “Old Dutch” Los Angeles. Sorry. “Greyhaired Grandpa Joke” . . .
Now, back to the business at hand and with a real ukulele. The melancholy lyrics of “September Song” that touch on the aging process are one thing that has lasted, but more so has the melody. This has been interpreted as a jazz standard by many musicians not the least of which is this intricate ukulele solo. Click or tap on the next image to feel the musical thrill of a September chill, Gypsy jazz ukulele style, no less.
So, as “the days grow short,” we reach the calendric September of this year, as well as a pivotal month within a metaphorical lifetime. So, let’s remember both the verses and choruses of the songs we sing and live, and–whether “greyhaired” or not–STAY TUNED!
Well, the year is half over and the dog days of Summer are upon us. So, watch your step as we slip (or sip?) into something to cool us off a bit. As far as another musical musing goes, why not just let go and “GO BANANAS!“
Bananas didn’t become common in markets until the 1880s or so when steamships, refrigeration, and railroads allowed the fast and safe distribution of this fragile fruit from the Caribbean to cities in the US, the UK, and Europe. What was uncommon soon became everyday. And, needless to say, our friends in Tin Pan Alley, Vaudeville, and British music halls noticed and slid right along!
Just for fun, let’s unpeel and enjoy a whole bunch of what was out there –musically speaking, of course. Caution: Don’t split your skin with peels of laughter!
Click or tap on the triangle in the next image for a look and listen to this Vaudeville favorite.
Another!
Click or tap on the triangle in the next block for a really ripe one!
Still another!
Click or tap on the triangle in the next image to look and listen to a tune that some might say is “showing a few of those brown spots!“
One more from the bunch.
Click or tap on the triangle in the next image for a look and listen to a song that ripened into a commercial!
And one more that just slipped in!
This golden (banana yellow) oldie is by that famed performer and (Yes!) Tin Pan Alley historian. Click or tap on the triangle in the next image and take a look and listen for as long as you can stand it!
And now, gentle readers, the ripest of the bunch!
The Top Banana here! Click or tap on the triangle in the next image for a fruitful treat!
If you want to sing along with any of these, here’s what to wear. Or not . . .
And, here’s a little instrument to play on!(Alas, not in my collection. Yet.)
I could go on and on with tunes like this but I sense that one or more of my gentle readers might be losing their appetite for banana treats . . .
So, let’s split the scene and slip along to some more serious musicological musings before we let things ripen too far.Save room for some banana bread, however!
Sliding on . . . Sometimes a song is so familiar to us and so tied in with a particular performer that we tend to forget that most songs, like fruit, come in many varieties, and, like bananas, come in bunches. That’s the fun of nibbling into the back-stories of some of the songs we hear and play.
Certainly, “Day-O—The Banana Boat Song”–that icon of Jamaican patois and calypso rhythms–is one of those.
Essentially, it’s a work song sung by dock workers ending the night shift by loading freshly picked bananas onto market ships.
The simple lyrics describe how daylight has come, their shift is over, and they want their work to be counted up so that they can go home. The song originated as a Jamaican folk song with a repeated melody and refrain, so-called “call and response.”
There were numerous iterations and versions of the lyrics, most likely improvised on the spot by the singers. The song probably emerged around the second half of the nineteenth century or the first half of the twentieth century, when there was a rise in the banana trade from Jamaica.
Of course, the best-known version of “Day-O . . .” was released by American singer Harry Belafonte in 1956 and later became one of his signature songs sung before rapt audiences all over the world. Click or tap on the triangle in the next image to unpeel this musical icon.
The song was first recorded, however, by Edric Connor, a Trinidadian folk singer and later American film actor, in 1952.
Click or tap on the triangle in the next image for a listen to this first recording of our song.
Belafonte’s version of the song was based on this earlier release and his iconic, but later, interpretation soon zoomed up to No. 5 on the Billboard charts. But wait. There’s more!
Also in 1956, a trio calling themselves “The Tarriers,” recorded their version of our song and slipped in the chorus of another Jamaican folk song, “Hill and Gully Rider.” Click or tap on the triangle in the next image for a listen to their take on our tune.
This release became their biggest hit and soon out-performed Belafonte’s version by reaching No. 4 on the charts! Who would have thought that? Because they had rewritten the song with a slightly different arrangement than Connor’s and added additional lyrics, the three members of the Tarriers—Erik Darling, Bob Carey, and Alan Arkin (Yes, the late actor.)– are, in fact, credited as the writers of the song.
For us, our “Day-O . . .” is Edric Connor’s harvest, the Tarriers’s tweak, and Harry Belafonte’s signature. So, get out your bongos, steel drums, and load those bananas” at least until daylight comes and it’s time to top up those cornflakes with–what else?
And, don’t forget the banana bread!
Stick with your favorite bunch, watch out for those slippery peels and black tarantulas, and STAY TUNED!
There are some songs out there that are so linked to an individual that a long and circuitous musical history is slighted and too often forgotten. Such is the case with one of our favorite little tunes, “Hound Dog.” One could write a musicological dissertation on the history of this tune but, hopefully, this simple musical musing will be enough to slake your interest. There’s more to this tune than Elvis!
To begin, our song “Hound Dog” is a twelve-bar blues song written in 1952 by then 19-year-old songwriters Jerry Leiber and Mike Stoller. It was first recorded by blues singer Willie Mae “Big Mama” Thornton. It was her first hit record and it put her and “Hound Dog” into the Grammy Hall of Fame.
Thornton was a small-time, back-room blues singer with a great moaning style, but it was as much her appearance as her growly, bluesy voice that influenced the writing of “Hound Dog.” Leiber recalled: “We saw “Big Mama” and she knocked me cold. She looked like the biggest, baddest, saltiest chick you would ever see. And she was mean, a ‘lady bear,’ as they used to call ’em.”
Thornton wanted to reverse her musical fortunes at the time and her agent approached these young songwriters. After listening to Thornton rehearse several blues numbers, Leiber and Stoller quickly penciled out a song to suit what they saw as her “brusque and badass” personality.
In fifteen minutes of song-writing inspiration, Leiber remembered a slang expression from the Baltimore neighborhood where he grew up: “Hound Dog”—a euphemism referring to a man who sought a woman to take care of him, usually in exchange for “a bit more” than mere companionship. The simple lyrics morphed into a bawdy blues lament of a woman throwing a no-good man out of her house and her life.
You ain’t nothin’ but a hound dog. Quit snoopin’ ’round my door. You can wag your tail, But I ain’t gonna feed you no more.
A great song to record for the blues market, but, in the early 1950s, it was a bit too bawdy for the mainstream radio disc-jockeys of the day. So, as a NEXT chapter in the song’s history, it became “sanitized” for the teeny-bopper mainstream!
To give “Hound Dog” the requisite doggie shampoo, the founder of “Teen Records”—sensing a teenage hit—recruited a popular Las Vegas lounge act, “Freddie Bell and the Bellboys,” to rewrite the lyrics.
They replaced the racy with the ridiculous, turned a declaration of no more sex—“You can wag your tail but I ain’t gonna feed you no more.”—into a reprimand for poor hunting skills—“Well, you ain’t never caught a rabbit and you ain’t no friend of mine.”They also replaced “Snoopin’ ’round my door,” with “Cryin’ all the time.” The song was now literally about a dog!
Now “street legal,” the song was given a rock and roll rhythm and, as performed by the Bellboys in their Las Vegas act, “Hound Dog” became a comedy-burlesque song with what was described at the time as “show-stopping va-va-voom choreography”—one way to give the dog a bath and, literally, wash away the blues!
Now, the THIRD chapter. The best-known version of “Hound Dog” is, of course, the 1956 recording by Elvis Presley. His recording sold about 10 million copies globally and was his best-selling song for over thirty years! Presley’s recording was inducted into the Grammy Hall of Fame in 1988, and is listed as one of “500 Songs That Shaped Rock and Roll.”
Pretty good for a third-generation song! Needless to say, this is the cleaned up and blow-dried version most of us know and that appears, as would be expected, in most of our PG-rated songbooks.
Lieber disliked the, er, mongrelizing of his original lyrics, but the skyrocketing popularity of the Presley recording cemented Lieber’s fame as one of the pioneers of Rock-and-Roll and he and Stoller partnered with Presley on many more songs including: “Love Me“, “Jailhouse Rock“, “Loving You“, “Don’t“, and “King Creole“. You’ll find other tunes by the duo out there including “Kansas City,” “Stand by Me,” “Yakitiyak” and , “Love Potion No. 9.”
In his first appearance on the Ed Sullivan TV Show in 1956, Presley gyrated and sang “Hound Dog” but was shown on TV mostly above the waist—another way to “sanitize” his performance, along with the song’s already sanitized lyrics. Needless to say, this trick didn’t quite turn out as planned and the rest is musical history!
Anyway, here is a REALLY cleaned up version of “Hound Dog” featuring a decidedly NOT Thornton or Elvis take on our tune. Click or tap on the triangle in the next image for a look and listen.
And, of course, not to leave we “eldies” out, click or tap on the triangle in the next image for a “Geri-Atric” take on our tune!
So, just how far has our little dog gone?
Keep that hound dog of yours–human or canine–on its leash and STAY TUNED!
Well, we just passed through the Summer Solstice and into the first days of Summer. After this, the days will be getting shorter. We’ve turned the corner! Some also call today “Sunshine Appreciation Day” and that, of course, makes it easy for me to peruse my songbooks for a few appropriate tunes on which to muse. So let’s start with one that I have, shall we say, “taken a shine” to. And, it also has to do with politics! How timely!
The old chestnut “You Are My Sunshine” is a song that spans musical genres from “hillbilly,” to “country,” to “standard,” to “children’s.” We all evolve as we age, so why not songs?
First recorded in 1939, the song is credited to songwriters and performers Jimmie Davis and Charles Mitchell.
It has been declared one of the official “State Songs of Louisiana” because of its association with Davis, a popular country singer and governor of the state in the years 1944–1948 and 1960–1964.
The song has been covered numerous times — so often, in fact, that it is one of the most commercially programmed numbers in American popular music. Early versions by Gene Autry, Bing Crosby, and Wayne King reached the US charts of the day. Click or tap on the triangle in the next image for an iconic treatment by:
Davis (1899-2000) performed and wrote both sacred and popular songs, as well as being a politician. As Governor of his native Louisiana, he ran his campaigns as a controversial advocate for impoverished and rural white Louisianans—alas, today seen as a segregationist platform.
When he ran for governor of Louisiana in 1944, he used “You Are My Sunshine” as his campaign theme, singing it during stump speeches and at fundraisers, often while riding a horse he had named “Sunshine.” Ah, the sweet old days of political campaigns!
Despite its rather maudlin verses, “You Are My Sunshine” became even more famous when, in 2013, a tornado hit Moore, Oklahoma, and teachers in the local grade school rushed their students into the bathrooms — the safest places in their small building.
To keep their charges from panicking, teachers led songs including rounds of “You Are My Sunshine”—a gently defiant gesture given the dangerous weather all around them. While the building was destroyed, not one of those singing children was hurt. Ah, the power of music, and the subsequent honor of a presidential visit!
To make you feel safe, click or tap on the triangle in the following image to hear a soothing version.
But, gentle readers, this is too shiny a theme not to touch on a few other sunny musical chestnuts roasting in the heat out there.Lets make hay while the sun shines!
Click or tap on the triangle in the next image to ride along with Lesley.
Click or tap on the triangle in the next image to bounce along with Miss Blaine:
Click or tap on the triangle in the next image and get ready to powder your nose!
And of course, here is the alpha and omega of a sunny day. Here’s a musical metaphor not just for the swift and visible movement of the sun through the day but for the nearly imperceptible movement of the days through the years.
Click or tap on the triangle in the next image to reflect.
So, as we live with the heatwave on this year’s “Sunshine Appreciation Day,”
STAY TUNED,
appreciate the sunshine,
and remember, if nothing else, to WEAR THOSE SUNHATS!
Well, the calendar has rolled around to another Father’s Day as of this Sunday so here’s one of my musical musings that I dust off, tweak, and post just about every year. Enjoy!
Now, all of us who have or have had fathers can muse on their influence on our lives, at least our musical lives. Needless to say there is a plethora of “daddy” music out there from the sweet to the maudlin . . . Here are some early sheet music covers to remind us.
Give a listen to this old tearjerker by that “singing cowboy” himself, Gene Autry. Click or tap on the triangle in the center of the next image for a treat.
And then there’s that perversion of the word “Daddy” into the torchy, tinted (but not quite off-color) slang of the day.
Here it is by Marilyn herself. Click or tap on the triangle in the next image to hear (and see) her in action!
Oh yes, we can’t forget the “Papa” songs either.
Here is this childish novelty tune of the 1920s. Click or tap on the triangle in the center of the next image to sing along.
Another Papa tune!
Here’s an early recording of this bluesy Papa song performed by Bessie Smith. Click or tap on the triangle in the next image to hear her voice.
And, of course, the novelty songs about fathers or even grandfathers. Don’t we have fun!
Seek and ye shall find! Click or tap on the triangle in the next image for this one.
Here are a few more rather curious sheet music covers of the day. What were they thinking?
And, of course, here is probably the most played “Papa song” out there!
Click or tap on the triangle in the next image for a listen to this one–brings a tear to one’s eye!
Now for a bit of comedy!
Here’s a version of this country/western chestnut of a song for a final musical offering. Tap or click on the triangle in the center of the next image to listen in and try to follow the convoluted lyrics.(Not me playing the uke; his beard is longer than mine!)
So, to all you fathers out there–and to all of you who have or have had fathers, grandfathers, dads, papas, and (perhaps?) “daddies,” have a happy, safe, Fathers’ Day this year for you and yours!
Over the years, many of you gentle readers have told me that you enjoy banjo music. “Good for you,” I reply. Then I ask, “What kind of banjo music?” After a pause, most don’t offer an opinion other than asking, “Are there different kinds?” Well, yes. Hence this musical musing—in a few paragraphs, with a lot of tunes! Now, take those earplugs out!
Let’s start with a bit of banjo history.
The musical instrument that today we call a “banjo” had its roots among the African peoples. Many brought their musical culture and traditions with them—if not their musical instruments themselves—when they were transported empty handed and against their will into slavery here in the so-called New World.
They soon found and fashioned shells or gourds, skins and strings, and sticks and wood into forms similar to those they remembered. With these, and their hands and voices, music was made.
While the banjo emerged from the enslaved Black community, White America listened, liked, absorbed, and copied. And, the banjo and banjo music evolved into what we see, hear, and play today.
Now, let’s jump from the past to the present. As with any musical instrument or musical genre, each player focuses on their own musical directions and styles.
Needless to say, this varies with different cultures over time.
But, it’s worthwhile to take a moment to look at the three most dominant banjo playing styles commonly heard today. Hopefully this simple musical musing will help your understanding and appreciation. A careful look and listen should help to hear and understand the stylistic differences of 1) old-time “Clawhammer” playing,
2) “Jazz” era tenor and plectrum playing,
and 3) modern “Bluegrass playing.”
We’ll save an exploration of the bawdy “Minstrel” style,
and the genteel “Parlor” style of playing for another day. Whew! Who knew?
Let’s start with the style from the earliest days that is still popular with folk musicians today. That’s what is known as the old-time “Clawhammer,” or, as some folks call it, “Frailing,” style. The banjo used by most folk musicians has a skin-covered (mostly mylar today) “pot,” a 22-fret neck, and five steel strings. Four strings are full length and a fifth, called a “drone” because it is seldom fretted, is shorter than the others. The short fifth string is played with the thumb while the other four strings are played downward with the fingers in a variety of single notes and chords.
Some even prefer to go “fretless.”Why not? That’s the way fiddle players do it.
It’s the right hand position that is said to resemble a carpenters clawhammer, hence the name. Most players rely on strong fingernails rather than picks and the smoother sound produced with this style of play is particularly well suited to accompany singing and dancing. Now, click or tap on the triangles in the next couple of images for a look and listen to the great banjo artist, Steve Martin (Yes, THAT Steve Martin!), and some folks just having some musical fun, clawhammer style
Moving along . . . During the jazz age, four-string (no short fifth string here) banjos played with a “plectrum” (flat pick) were used and the style of play featured rhythmic chording as well as melodies made up of single notes and chords played up and down the neck. A popular technique to look for is the fast up and down picking called “tremolo.” A so-called “tenor” banjo usually has 19 frets while a “plectrum” banjo has the standard 22.
Many were ornately decorated to show up and show off on stage.
This style of play is well suited for dance bands or for a soloist playing in what is known as the “chord melody” style. This style has many followers today, particularly for Irish music and in amateur “banjo bands.” However, it fell out of favor with jazz and dance bands with the advent of the amplified electric guitar. Click or tap on the triangles in the next few images for a look and listen–a 1930s jazz band, an Irish player, and a couple of contemporary treatments.
Now for Bluegrass music, players will use a fretted five-string banjo and metal or hard plastic thumb- and finger-picks used primarily to pluck the strings upward in syncopated patterns called “rolls.” These banjos, like the tenor and plectrum banjos, usually have a resonator mounted to the back of the pot to intensify and project the sound.
This style of play is often called “three finger picking.” The style is fast paced, and percussive with melodies emerging from the rolls. You’ll hear this style played both as background and solo in today’s bluegrass bands. Tap or click on the triangles in the next images for a look and listen, first to the late Earl Scruggs–considered both master and inventor of the style– and to a tiny wannabe.
Are your eardrums still vibrating? Well, after this deluge of strumming, chording, and picking, you should be able to go to your favorite play lists or YouTube and search for examples of the various playing styles. And, if your eardrums have survived, you’ll know the background of all those earworms you now have. My gift to you!
Wait! TMB? Too much banjo? Never! What? Ouch! Who threw that rotten tomato at me!
Just for that! Click or tap on the triangles in the next two images for my riposte! More, more, MORE! Heh, HEH, HEH!
Note: For those of the musically supercilious persuasion–not my enlightened gentle readers of course–these are the first two musicians to audition for and graduate from the Julliard School in New York on banjo. So, for those of you remain unconvinced and who might retain some lingering disdain for the banjo canon, here are the late Eric Weissberg, who wrote and performed the banjo music for the movie “Deliverance,” and the brilliant Bela Fleck. Nyaa, Nyaa Nyaa!
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Alas, gentle readers, sad opinions still linger in the minds of the uninitiated and uninformed. Well. I tried!
Not those of you, of course, who have absorbed the message of this musical musing and will, of course, STAY TUNED!
During the so-called “War Years”—1939 to 1945 for the UK and Europe, 1941 to 1945 here in the US—the swing era was, well, in swing. Songs were written, published, recorded, played on the radio, and performed on both sides of the Atlantic and, indeed, all over the world. Nearly everyone in uniform and at home whistled or hummed or even sang these tunes during the day and danced to them at night. There are hundreds of these songs out there and certainly worth a musical musing during this day when we commemorate the British Canadian, French, American and other Allied forces landing on the beaches of Normandy eighty years ago on D-Day, 6 June 1944.
Where to start?
Soldiers and sailors in those days often enjoyed singalongs in mess halls and clubs and while working. Men being men, however, they often laughed at and quickly discarded the official songbooks published for the morale of the troops.
They made up and preferred their own versions. But, needless to say, gentle readers, most of these are parodies of “official” songs and are much more silly, sexy, and scatological than those in the books–definitely NOT suitable for one of these simple musings of mine!
But, here’s one of those silly songs that has a D-Day backstory. As troops began to move from their transport ships into the landing craft that would take them ashore through the mine-filled and machine-gunned waters leading up to the Normandy beaches, some tried to ease their nerves by singing.
Many veterans of the landings remember hearing—and singing along—the catchy chorus of one of the more popular songs of the day, “The Hut Sut Song.”
Click or tap on the triangle in the next image to listen to this silliness that, somehow, soothed.
These were also the days for dozens of popular songs played and danced to by soldiers and sailors and their girlfriends such as . . .
Click or tap on the triangles in the next three images for a look and listen.
The British contributed many of the more memorable songs of the day, many of which brought the weight of the war home.
Click or tap on the triangles in the next couple of images for a look and listen.
And, of course, there were dozens of songs written about the uncertainties of those days, especially the partings.
Click or tap on the triangle in the next couple of images for a listen.
Silly songs soothed in those days but sober songs bring history home today. Click or tap on the triangle in the next image to hear a song written and performed by a British sailor who was THERE.
And, of course there is that great song that ended just about every movie, radio, USO show, or performance for most of the war years, “We’ll Met Again.”
Click or tap on the triangle in the next image to hear this song made famous by the beloved British “sweetheart of the services,” Vera Lynn.
This is one musical musing that could go on and on. There are just too many songs that each tell a story in their own way, silly or soothing or sad. All contribute, however, just like those who waded ashore that day and those that remain there today.
Well, here we go again. June is almost upon us, as is warmer (hot!) weather. It’s time think about wardrobe transitions. As a child, I remember my mother saying that her mother taught her that, after Memorial Day (Decoration Day to them), one may now wear white shoes and straw hats! I, of course, listened to my mother and–to this day–refrain from breaking the white/straw rule. Don’t you?
It’s also time for we Summer stylish gents (and ladies, of course!) to bring those Hawaiian shirts out of their winter storage bags and into our summer closets. Tis the season!
That being the case, I can’t pass up the chance to muse a bit on the history of this sartorial trend and to point to the protocols that “must” (well, “may”) be followed. And, there will be a tune or two. After all, gentle readers, this is a musical musing! And, ukuleles, salt water, warm weather, and Hawaiian shirts go together like “C,” “F,” “G7,” and back to “C.”
Click or tap on the triangle in the next image for a real Aloha!
As with my previous postings, of course, all is not mere frivolity. So, I’ll start with some serious scholarship about these shirts, their history, and place in our popular culture.
To go back a couple of hundred years or so, the first shirts associated with the islands were not what we think of today as a “Hawaiian Shirt.” Rather, these were simple, loose, long-sleeved work shirts, modeled after those worn by visiting British and American sailors.
They soon became the “uniform” for pineapple and cane field workers and island cowboys.
These came to be known as “palaka” shirts, from the Hawaiian word for “smock.” For the island trade, British cotton mills wove this denim-like fabric in a unique checked pattern which soon became known as “palaka plaid.”
Still made and sold today, this has become an iconic garment embraced by many native Hawaiians.
Click or tap on the triangle in the next image for a bit of musical palaka lore.
Moving on . . . In the 1920s a Japanese tailor in Honolulu came up with the novel idea of making shirts from odd remnants of printed silk he had on hand after making traditional kimonos.
These patterned, brightly colored shirts achieved almost instant popularity and soon became the standard for the local beach and surf crowd. And, of course, these became a must-have for the growing number of Mainland tourists.
Then, in the 1930s, a Chinese tailor in Honolulu made and marketed a variation on these originals and had the entrepreneurial wit to copyright the name “Aloha Shirt.” The go-to garment that we know and love today was born!
Soldiers and Sailors stationed in Hawaii during World War II brought their colorful and casual silk and rayon shirts back home, as did more and more tourists in the ‘50s and ‘60s.
What was a cheap souvenir in those days has spawned an industry and early, well designed shirts have become scarce collectors’ items today.
Some sell for hundreds of dollars and even find themselves in museums and galleries.
Today, the Aloha Shirt (now a generic name) has become standard business attire for many in the islands—replacing neckties and jackets for some— during nearly nine months of the year.
As would be expected, the Aloha style even extends to those formal occasions where a tux would be called for in other climes.
For the women and girls, the cover-up of the “muumuu” (forced on bare-breasted native girls by those shocked nineteenth century missionary wives) moved from palaka plaid, to intricate patterns,
to the bright florals we see today in lovely dresses.
Click or tap on the triangle in the next image to hear the music and voice of one of the most popular muumuu wearing, singing “aunties” of Hawaii.
Click or tap on the triangle in the next image for a bit of muumuusical fun!
While Hawaiian flora and activities dominate fabric patterns, just about any theme can be found on a Hawaiian shirt these days. Ukuleles, of course!
Adult beverages, naturally!
Other interests or proclivities, you name them!
Presidents have worn them.
And even some police station mug shots show them!
And, movie stars and movies made them famous.
Click or tap on the triangle in the next image for a look and listen to an island icon!
And now, the BIG question! Do you wear a Hawaiian shirt tucked in, or not tucked in? The answer is simple—as with all shirts with a straight hem and side slits, you wear them UN-TUCKED and flying in the breeze.
Except, maybe, with a blazer in the office.
Or on a fashion show runway,
But is it acceptable to wear a shirt unbuttoned? It all depends. . .
And, they even work for really BIG guys like me!
So, let’s dig out and don our Hawaiian shirts for another summer. Why not?
Speaking of shirt music, how about a rap version of an “Aloha Shirt Song?” Click or tap on the triangle in the next image and look and listen for as long as you can stand it! It’s not my favorite musical genre, but I understand that there are folks out there who like this kind of stuff. Just sayin . . .
So, back to our sartorial exploration . . .
Not if you observe the Hawaiian shirt rules, send us postcards from the islands, . . . and STAY TUNED!
There are a lot of songs in our various songbooks that might seem silly to us today but, in their day, were popular. Times have changed but, gentle readers, we can still have a bit of fun with what our parents and grandparents enjoyed. For openers, let’s take a look and listen to this hit song of the 1930s.
“Bei Mir Bist Du Schon” is one those variously spelled songs now mostly forgotten. The title language probably throws most of us off today and we quickly move on. Actually, this is a “Germanized” title of a swing era song that—believe it or not—became a world-wide hit when recorded by the Andrews Sisters back in 1937.
Remember their names, “M . . .”, “P . . . “, and L . . . ?” Click or tap on the triangle in the next image for the first earworm of the day!
The song is a couple of years older than 1937, however. It was originally written in 1932 by Jacob Jacobs (1890-1977), lyrics,
and Sholem Secunda (1894-1974), music,
for a New York Yiddish theater musical comedy—“I Would If I Could.”
Alas, the musical was a flop and faded away quickly; but the song lives on and on in a serious shift of cultures, to say the least! Click or tap on the triangle in the next image for a look and listen to the original.
In the 1930s, Yiddish theater in New York was big as Yiddish was the at-home and street language of much of the huge Jewish population of the city.
The story goes that Secunda, a well-respected musical theater composer, rejected the young upstart George Gershwin as a co-writer in favor of his pal Jacobs. Later, he tried to sell the song to Eddie Cantor who rejected it as being “too Jewish” for him. He finally sold the song to a publisher for $30 and it was picked up by the Tin-Pan Alley songwriter Sammy Cahn. Cahn then collaborated with Saul Chaplin to rewrite it with English lyrics and a more “swing-style” rhythm. Then, for a fee of $50, a little-known, close-harmony trio—calling themselves The Andrews Sisters—recorded Cahn’s swinging English language rewrite. Whew!
Of all the “players” in the back-story of this song, the only ones who were not Jewish New Yorkers were the three sisters—Lutherans from Minnesota. Go figure!
In another bit of irony, in 1938 the song became a surprising hit in Germany. Initially assumed to be an uncontroversial song in a southern German dialect, an uproar occurred when its Yiddish provenance was discovered and pounced on by the press. Following this embarrassing discovery, music by composers of Jewish ancestry was forbidden under the Nazi regime and the song was promptly banned. A sad bit of history in our songbooks, but there it is.
Moving onward and a bit farther to the west, here is a silly song from the islands. Sorta . . .
While it does show up in a lot of songbooks, most of us have glanced askance at the tune “Princess Poo-Poo-ly Has Plenty Pa-Pa-Ya.” While musically obscure, I do think that it’s worth a listen, if not a strum. And, it does gives us an interesting back-story.
Published in 1939, the sheet music for “Princess Poo-poo-ly . . . “ credits the song to Harry Owens (1902-1986), the well-known conductor of the then popular Royal Hawaiian Hotel Band. But did he really write it? A tradition of the time was that a few music publishing experts, like Owens, would assist local songwriters in publishing their works in exchange for a co-writing credit that would then get them a share of any royalties. It was actually written by one Donald McDiarmid (1898-1977), a member of Owen’s orchestra and a songwriter who, in a bar, wrote the whole tune in one evening.
Owens and his orchestra recorded it, but rarely if ever played “Princess . . .” at any of the sophisticated tourist hotels in Waikiki. Anyway, click or tap on the triangle in the next image for a listen to this oldie.
Owens considered it as “low-brow, mildly ribald, comic hula,” and was simply content with the royalty money. He and his hotel band stuck with the sweet and haunting island ballads and love songs that Mainland tourists came to Hawaii to hear and dance to.His best-known song is “Sweet Leilani,” written for the 1934 movie “Waikiki Wedding” and was the first Hawaiian song to win an academy award.
Owens was an early devote of what became known in Hawaii as “hapa-haole.” Literally “half foreign,” this was music with a Hawaiian theme and sound written and performed by non-natives.
Ensconced at the Moana Hotel in Waikiki, his live shortwave radio broadcasts were transmitted around the world.
Using tricks like a microphone planted on the beach to underscore his show with surf sounds, his show was instrumental in building up the Hawaiian mythos—and attracting ship- and plane-loads of tourist cash. At the same time, however, a lot of hapa-haole perpetuated a somewhat benign, but still stereotypical, view of Hawaiians and island visitors.
In retrospect, the period from 1900 to 1940 was a period in which “hapa-haole” ripened into its own in all the popular styles of the day—ragtime, blues, jazz, foxtrot and waltz time—often with a hula tempo, but jazzed up a bit.
It was a unique period marked by the enormous response by mostly Tin Pan Alley songwriters (who seldom set foot on a beach let alone one in Hawaii) to write songs and Mainland bands to perform and record them. A few were tasteless, many simply humorous, and a lot quite romantic about life and love in the islands and, particularly, with those lovely hula girls. It’s a testimony to the Hawaiians’ grace, humor, and sense of perspective that they make room for this music in their polyculture society of today.
After all, we mainlanders still play ukuleles and wear Hawaiian shirts. Go figure!
Oh Yes. “Poo-Poo-Ly” is a play on the Hawaiian word “pupule” (pu-PU-lee) which translates as “crazy; mad; insane.” Also, her “papayas” is Hawaiian slang for, well, your guess is as good as mine . . .
Time to move a bit further back in time . . .
“Ja-Da (Ja Da, Ja Da, Jing, Jing, Jing!)” was written in 1918 by a piano player, Bob Carleton (1894-1956), while he was serving in the Navy during World War I.
He was stationed at the Great Lakes Naval Training Center, just north of Chicago, and performed with a trio on the base and in local bars.
The simple tune became a jazz standard over the years and was recorded by just about every performer from that day to this—a simple 16-bar tune with a long, long life. How simple is it? Click or tap at the triangle in the next image for a look and listen.
In his definitive American Popular Songs, Alec Wilder writes about the song’s simplicity: “It fascinates me that such a trifling tune could have settled into the public consciousness as “Ja-Da” has. Of course, it’s bone simple and the lyric says almost nothing. Perhaps the explanation of its success lies in the lyric itself—”That’s a funny little bit of melody—it’s soothing and appealing to me.” It’s cute, it’s innocent, and it’s “soothing.” And, wonderfully enough, the only other statement the lyric makes is “Ja-Da, Ja-Da, Ja-Da, Ja-Da, Jing, Jing, Jing.” There are, however, more verses!
Click or tap on the triangle in the next image for a listen to all the verses. Another earworm!
Carlton went on to be a prolific songwriter/performer and published over 500 songs. He wrote ditties like “Teasin'”, “I’ve Spent the Evening in Heaven”, “I’ve Got to Break Myself of You”, and “Where the Blues Were Born in New Orleans.”
Ever hear any of these? Thought not. But, just for fun, here is Carlton himself at what he describes as his “Bar Room Baldwin.”
Well, is that enough silliness for the month of May? Three silly earworms today but not silly in their day! What’s not to like? In Yiddish, Hapa-Haole, or Ragtime, no less.
NOHOBANJO OF NORTHAMPTON, AND NOW EASTHAMPTON, "MUSICAL MUSINGS" 