Bobby Darin’s “Mack the Knife” at 60 December 19, 2018
Posted by intellectualgridiron in Pop Culture.Tags: 1958, 1959, Ahmet Ertegun, Atco, Atlantic, Bertold Brecht, Bobby Darin, Brian Setzer, Cole Porter, Dean Martin, Decca, Dick Clark, Ella Fitzgerald, Frank Sinatra, George Gershwin, Hoagy Carmichael, Ira Gershwin, Irving Berlin, Jerome Kern, Jerry Wexler, Johnny Mercer, Kevin Spacey, Kurt Weill, Lotte Lenya, Louis Armstrong, Macheath, Mack the Knife, Michael Buble, Richard Wess, Satchmo, Simon Cowell, That's All, Threepenny Opera, Tony Bennett
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Sixty years ago today – Dec. 19, 1958 – more music recording history was made. Specifically, Bobby Darin cut his biggest hit, “Mack The Knife”. Released first as a single and later on his career-defining album “That’s All”, it was a song that would help define an era just as said era was coming to an end.
The song itself was not new. For that matter, neither was the musical style in which it was recorded. This alone would be an odd juxtaposition in a time when newer car styles and newer technologies were rapidly entering society. Yet this record would go on to win the Grammy for Record of the Year for 1959; in the fall of 1959, it stayed No. 1 on the charts for nine consecutive weeks. Some polls hold it up as the fifth-ranked song of the 1955-1959 Rock Era, despite the song clearly not being rock. And it all started with one legendary recording session 60 years ago today.
The actual, written song was already 30 years old when Darin recorded it on the Atco label, which was an Atlantic Records subsidiary. Indeed, the record’s producers were Atlantic’s usual suspects of Ahmet Ertegun (its founder), brother Neshui Ertegun, and Jerry Wexler.
Kurt Weill wrote the melody and poet/writer Bertold Brecht wrote the original lyrics for “Moriat” (its original title) as part of their musical drama “Die Dreigrosschenoper”, or “The Threepenny Opera” in English. In the musical play, an organ grinder sings the song which tells the tale of Mackie Messer, a murderous criminal who in turn was based on the Macheath character from John Gay’s “Beggar’s Opera” from 1728. So yes, it’s all very derivative.
The word “Messer” means “knife” in German, hence the easy transition from Mackie Messer to Mack the Knife. And yes, the original lyrics to “Moriat” were indeed auf Deutsch.
An English-language version of the opera was first offered to the public five years later (1933), with translated lyrics by Gifford Cochran and Jerrold Krimsky. The production had a run of only ten days. In 1954, though, another English-language production of the Threepenny Opera was staged, and it enjoyed an off-Broadway run of six years. Mark Blitzstein used his own English translation of the murder ballad of Mack the Knife, and these lyrics became the standard we know and love today.
Louis Armstrong actually beat Darin to the punch in having a pop hit with this song, recording his rendition in 1956, and giving it his typical Dixieland-inspired flavor. But despite Satchmo’s first-mover advantage, the song today is associated with Darin, and rightly so.
This is not to say that the song’s success came easily. Recording it was not even an easy sell. Dick Clark advised Darin not to record the song because he feared its perception as an opera song would alienate rock n’ roll-oriented audiences. But rather than repel such audiences, it attracted them instead. Moreover, while Darin’s traditional young target demographics embraced his more mature music, the parents of the young audiences were reassured by the record’s strong Big Band sound (shouts to Richard Wess, who directed the orchestra for this track and indeed, the whole album), and enjoyed the record, too, as a result. In short, this timeless track appealed to a massive range of the buying public, which clearly was a leading factor in its stunning success.
Other notable names soon jumped on the bandwagon with their own versions of “Mack the Knife”, such as Ella Fitzgerald recording a live rendition in 1960, and Dean Martin doing a nice, live version the previous year. Frank Sinatra recorded it with Quincy Jones as part of his 1984 album “L.A. is My Lady”, yet he himself confessed that Bobby Darin did the better version. Other notables offering their respective takes on the tune include Tony Bennett, Brain Setzer, Kevin Spacey, and, not surprisingly, Michael Bublé. Bill Haley and His Comets recorded an instrumental version of the tune in 1959, which would be the last track the legendary singer and group would cut for the Decca label. Other notable acts have recorded variations and instrumentals of the song over the years.
One sterling example of the song’s timeless appeal: superstar music judge Simon Cowell once named “Mack the Knife” as the greatest song ever written. That is a stretch, to say the least, considering the bodies of work of Hoagy Carmichael, Cole Porter, Irving Berlin, Johnny Mercer, and Jerome Kern, to say nothing of George and Ira Gershwin. But on the other hand, it’s refreshing to hear a current superstar with a credibly discerning ear remind us of what a great song “Mack the Knife” is. It might not be the best ever, but it surely ranks up there.
Cool trivia: both Louis Armstrong and Bobby Darin give a nod to actress Lotte Lenya in their respective versions. Lenya was Kurt Weill’s wife, and she introduced the song during the first productions of Die Dreigrosschenoper.
America’s Greatest Music: I’ve Got Beginners Luck October 30, 2013
Posted by intellectualgridiron in Pop Culture.Tags: 1937, 1959, America's, classic, Ella Fitzgerald, Fred Astaire, George, Gershwin, gold, Great American Songbook, Greatest, I've Got Beginner's Luck, Ira, music, Shall We Dance, They Can't Take That Away From Me, tin pan alley
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When deciding on a particular tune to highlight for a blog entry, that decision becomes a particularly keen challenge when trying to decide among tunes that Fred Astaire broke to the public. After all, the tunes that broke out thanks to Fred Astaire’s rendition of them on the silver screen make up a list of upper-echelon legends within the already-hallowed Great American Songbook itself. One such ditty is the George and Ira Gershwin classic “I’ve Got Beginner’s Luck.” Pretty much anything the Gershwin Brothers wrote together was solid gold — some a greater degree of karats than others to be sure — and while this might be, say, 16 karat gold compared to the full 24 karats of “They Can’t Take That Away From Me” or even “Shall We Dance,” it’s a classic among classics nonetheless.
Moreover, can one think of a better tune that encapsulates the lucky feeling that a fellow experiences when happening on that special lady for the first time? Or vice-versa, for that matter? The shame of things is such that, as great as the song as it is, it has been under-performed by recording luminaries over the years, particularly when compared to other Great American Songbook favorites. Ella Fitzgerald did a version of it in 1959, and that is the only non-Astaire example of performance than comes to mind for this particular tune, and more the pity.
Nevertheless, the lyrics have that perfect eloquence that match with other Tin Pan Alley legends, as Fred Astaire himself demonstrated in the great 1937 musical “Shall We Dance.” “…There never was such a smile or such eyes of blue!” Enough said!
America’s Greatest Music – It’s De-Lovely October 25, 2013
Posted by intellectualgridiron in Pop Culture.Tags: 1936, 1956, Anything Goes, Bob Hope, Cole Porter, Eddy Duchin, Ella Fitzgerald, Ethel Merman, Great American, I Get a Kick out of You, I've Got You, It's De-Lovely, Night and Day, Red Hot and Blue, Shep Fields, Songbook, swing era, Under My Skin, Vincent Lopez
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“It’s delightful, it’s delicious, it’s de-lovely…” Those are some of the most famous lyrics within the body of work of Cole Porter, the last two of which being the title of the in question. Given that it is one of Porter’s most recognizable songs (save for “Night and Day,” “I’ve Got You Under My Skin”, “Anything Goes,” “I Get A Kick Out Of You”, and several others), it merits a very prominent place in the Great American Songbook.
Here’s the catch, though; despite it being a great song, few of us can think of lots of notable recorded renditions of it. Sure, a number of second-tier bands had moderate hits with it in the mid-1930s, but that will not turn lots of heads of music listeners who are not passionate and/or academic about the Swing Era.
The song originated when Cole Porter wrote it in 1936 for the show “Red Hot and Blue.” On the big screen, it was introduced to the masses by Ethel Merman and Bob Hope. Indeed, Merman would record a studio version of the song, which can be heard below. Note that the approach she takes to the song is one that would highlight the potential silliness/gayety of the situation described.
As mentioned earlier, several second-tier bands promptly recorded their respective renditions of the song, including Eddy Duchin, Shep Fields, and Vincent Lopez, whose 1936 version can be heard below:
But one version easily stands out over all, and that is Ella Fitzgerald’s take on the tune from 1956 (which would be the same time of decade when she would tackle the “Cole Porter Songbook” and leave many wonderful records for posterity in so doing). Frankly, nothing compares to this rendition.
Notice, in contrast to Ethel Merman’s approach from 20 years earlier, Ella puts all kidding aside and focuses on the shear passion that this tune can excite, what with being with the right gal (or guy) at the right time, along with the ensuing opportunity to create a magical evening.
America’s Greatest Music: A love song “twofer” from 75 years ago today. September 15, 2013
Posted by intellectualgridiron in Pop Culture.Tags: 1938, 75, Al Bowlly, Artie Shaw, Babe Russin, Begin the Beguine, Benny Goodman, Billie Holiday, Cadillac, Casablanca, Claude Thornhill, Columbia, Cozy Cole, diamond anniversary, Dinah Shore, Dinah Washington, Doris Day, Ella Fitzgerald, Forever Young, Frank Sinatra, Haven Gillespie, J. Fred Coots, Lena Horne, Louis Armstrong, Marie, Marlene Dietrich, Martha Tilton, Mel Gibson, Nan Wynn, Nat "King" Cole, Packard, Patti Page, Paul McCartney, Peggy Lee, Ray Noble, RCA Bluebird, Rick's Cafe Americain, Sarah Vaughn, Sid Ascher, Teddy Wilson, The Very Thought of You, Tommy Dorsey, Tony Bennett, Vaughn Monroe, Vocalion, You Go To My Head
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A 1938 Cadillac is shown on the right and a 1935 Packard (similar to a 1938 model) is shown on the right. This image montage is included for visual reference to some of the text below. Photos by the author.
Sometimes certain recording sessions prove to be particularly fecund, if not downright one for the ages. That was especially the case, for example, when Artie Shaw and his band cut the legendary record “Begin the Beguine,” in addition to other greats such as “Any Old Time,” “Back Bay Shuffle,” “Yesterdays,” and so on, all on July 24, 1938 for RCA Bluebird. It happens that way in recording sessions, sometimes: things just happen to click, and one great record after another is put to acetate for all of posterity to appreciate.
Such turned out not to be the case with the recording session the Billie Holiday undertook 75 years ago today (Sept. 15) for the Vocalion label (a Columbia subsidiary at the time), this being contrary to that which I wrote in this very article earlier. I apologize for misleading the readers, as I did get my discography information incorrect, which led to the inaccurate info. Nevertheless, these are two incredible, timeless records that were produced in 1938, and both just so happened to be the [arguably] definitive versions of two songs that definitely belong in the Great American Songbook.
One is “You Go to My Head.” Written by the relatively obscure duo of J. Fred Coots and Haven Gillespie — interestingly, the same pair that wrote “Santa Claus is Coming to Town”; seriously! — the song itself has been recorded by numerous artists and has become a venerable pop/jazz standard over the course of three-quarters of a century. Nan Wynn and Teddy Wilson (on piano, naturally) took a stab at the song the same year Lady Day cut her version. Marlene Dietrich recorded a version the following year, and in the years since then, luminaries including Frank Sinatra (1946 and 1960), Lena Horne, Doris Day (1949), Charlie Barnett, Bing Crosby, Peggy Lee, Sarah Vaughn, Tony Bennett, Dinah Washington (1954), Dinah Shore, Patti Page (1956), Louis Armstrong (1957), Ella Fitzgerald (of course; 1960), and many others all have a version under their respective, figurative belts.
An outstanding yet relatively obscure version was done live in 1938 by Benny Goodman and his band during a Camel Caravan radio broadcast from Chicago, with Martha Tilton on vocals. Goodman’s sound and ‘take’ on the tune certainly did it justice, as is the case with most Goodman records. But the one that stands out above all is Billie Holiday’s version from that same year (she actually cut this track on May 11, 1938, not Sept. 15, as originally posted).
How could it not? The very first thing the listener hears — and never forgets it when he/she does for the first time — is a fantastic opening tenor sax solo by Babe Russin (a member of Goodman’s band at the time, though the year prior capped off the legendary Tommy Dorsey record “Marie” with another great solo!) that simply oozes Art Deco imagery in the listener’s mind. For best effect, try hearing the record while beholding the styling craftsmanship of, say, a 1938 Cadillac or Packard! Claude Thornhill on piano and Cozy Cole on the drums make for a nice touch, too.
But that’s just the beginning. Holiday’s expressiveness was practically tailor-made for the lyrics, and how they so accurately personify the incredible sensations one experiences of adoring “the one”, the potential significant other, despite how diligently the rational side of our minds tries to remind us of key apprehensions. Hear for yourself!
On a related note is another love song, one just as timeless, and that being “The Very Thought of You.” (And this was recorded on Sept. 15, 1938!) The lyrics focus more so on the pure adoration aspect regarding the feelings one has for a significant other, and how “the one” tends to become the center of one’s focus.
Sid Ascher — later the manager of Tony Bennett — wrote the song in 1934, and sold the rights to the great British bandleader Ray Noble, who cut a fine version of it that year with Al Bowlly providing the vocals. Bing Crosby himself did his own version that same year. Vaughn Monroe recorded his rendition a decade later, and the inclined movie connoisseur can hear a band-accompanied piano instrumental of the song during a scene inside Rick’s Cafe Americain in the 1942 hit film “Casablanca.” Doris Day later sang a version of the song for the 1950 film “Young Man with a Horn.” Ella Fitzgerald, Frank Sinatra, and Nat “King” Cole all have their respective versions (the latter of which is particularly lovely), and Paul McCartney and Tony Bennett recorded a duet of it together.
But as is the case with the previously-examined song, Billie Holiday’s version stands out above the others.
A rather modern, repeated reference to this record can be heard throughout the 1992 film “Forever Young” with Mel Gibson; the song being used as something of a constant, a source of continuity, a bridge to two very different eras and how certain things were meant to stand the test of time, much like the song itself.
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