Bandstand Christmas Essentials 1: Dean Martin's A Winter Romance

The holiday season is upon us again, and if last year we published an article on the Christmas recordings of Bing Crosby, Frank Sinatra, and Dick Haymes, three voices that are essential when it comes to providing melodies for this "most wonderful time of the year," we are now beginning a new series of posts that will hopefully become a Vintage Bandstand tradition. Entitled Bandstand Christmas Essentials, these brief reviews of holiday albums will only be published every month of December. And the first installment spotlights one of my favorite seasonal albums—Dean Martin's A Winter Romance.

Although Dean Martin recorded several Christmas songs throughout his long and successful career (as evidenced by the many anthologies of that type of material currently on the market), as well as a fine full-fledged holiday album for Reprise in 1966, it is his seasonal offering, A Winter Romance, that I would like to spotlight this year. And this is, indeed, a "seasonal" LP in the full sense of the word, for as its very title suggests, this 1959 Capitol gem is a collection of winter-themed tunes that inevitably includes a few Christmas songs, although Martin wisely stays away from traditional carols, which would not have suited the general atmosphere of the disc. Just looking briefly at the cover, it seems rather obvious that it was never anyone's intention to create a Christmas album here. The setting is a mountain ski resort, with lots of snow, a stylish cabin in the background, and people getting ready to go skiing down some slope, and everything has a definite Rockwellian feeling. But on the far left Dino is reluctantly hugging a very willing girlfriend while looking at another woman on the far right who is also suggestively smiling back at him. Not much to indicate Christmas here, unless it is that the character portrayed by Dino hopes to get to be someone's Santa sometime soon...

But as classic Dean Martin as the cover is (it somehow has always reminded me of the one from Pretty Baby, another one of his Capitol outings), we should not get too caught up in it, since the music is the important thing here. The album is bookended by two special-material tunes from the pen of Sammy Cahn and Ken Lane, the one that opens and lends its title to the LP and "It Won't Cool Off," placed as the closing track. The former is the most interesting, a beautiful melody with a lyric that appropriately sets the scene for the rest of the selections but that is somewhat misleading regarding the organization of the album. While "A Winter Romance" introduces the theme of a love story that begins during the winter, the album does not explore such a story, which is just an excuse to string together songs about snow, cold weather, winter wonderlands, and, as already noted, the holiday season.

Dino getting ready for the holidays

In between the two Cahn-Lane compositions, we find some fast-paced tracks about the joys of love during the cold season ("Winter Wonderland," "Let It Snow! Let It Snow! Let It Snow!" and "I've Got My Love to Keep Me Warm"), as well as some beautiful ballads like the pensive "The Things We Did Last Summer" (which Frank Sinatra had recorded superbly for Columbia in the 1940s) and the Bing Crosby evergreen "June in January." Two standouts from the album are Dino's lovely mid-tempo reading of "Canadian Sunset" and the often overlooked "Out in the Cold Again," an older song also cut by Johnnie Ray around the same time and handled by Dean with gusto and ease here. "Baby, It's Cold Outside" is undeniably the perfect vehicle for Dino's charming, happy-go-lucky persona, and instead of doing it as a duet with another singer, as is usually the case, he chooses to sing it with a female chorus, which does not work badly either. The two selections most commonly associated with the holiday season are "Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer," complete with Martin's ad-libbed impersonation of Santa Claus speaking with what sounds like a fake German accent and an enjoyable rendition of "White Christmas" that never strays too far away from Crosby's classic Decca recording. The orchestra and chorus are directed by the lesser-known Gus Levene, and the arrangements are always tasteful and never get in the way of Martin's singing. Finally, the CD reissue adds a bonus track to the twelve on the 1959 LP, "The Christmas Blues," another song written by Cahn but recorded six years earlier which perfectly fits the theme and mood of the album and is most welcome. The original liner notes conclude that "the music, combined with Dean's vocal artistry, succeeds in producing just the kind of lover's glow to stir everyone to humming, dancing, and romancing—whether it's hot or cold outside," and even though Dino recorded more straight-ahead Christmas offerings that are also worth owning, A Winter Romance is an album that never stops spinning on my record player every year come December.

Unsung Vocalists of the Past 2: Charlie Palloy

Another fine CD released by the California-based company The Old Masters gives us the perfect excuse to discuss the recordings of Charlie Palloy, a very obscure artist who made a handful of recordings in the early 1930s and subsequently vanished from sight. His small recorded legacy, though, reveals a very interesting singer and jazzy guitar player who was influenced by Bing Crosby, Eddie Lang, and Nick Lucas.

Very seldom do we find an artist about whom information is so scarce that it is absolutely impossible to determine even an approximate place and date of birth and death, not to mention other specifics about his personal life and career. This is precisely the case of Charlie Palloy, a singer-guitarist whose life story, like the budget label for which he made most of his recordings, Crown Records, is shrouded in such mystery that we simply have to rely on the aural evidence of his recorded work (which is just as scarce as the sources to reconstruct his chronology) in order to try to understand where his artistic ideas and inclinations came from. And the few sides he left us indeed show that, as a vocalist, he was heavily influenced by Bing Crosby, although his baritone was not as rich and deep as Der Bingle's, and as a guitarist he owed a great deal to Eddie Lang (not coincidentally, Crosby's accompanist of choice) and Nick Lucas. Researcher Allan Dodge, who wrote the liner notes for the only CD compilation of Palloy's music currently available, notes that his last name "is taken from the Greek word meaning 'of the common man' and exists as a common name today."

Palloy is uncredited on this 1932 Crown side

Whether this was his real name or not, the Greek meaning is fitting in his case, since he not only remains a very unknown figure today, but even in his day, he was simply a studio-bound singer who recorded exclusively with Crown's house bands and who would have been virtually indistinguishable from many other similar studio vocalists by the buying public, often more interested in the hit song than in the performer. This was, indeed, a common practice at the time (Dick Robertson and Chick Bullock are just two other examples that come readily to mind) and, like many of this type of artists, Palloy does not seem to have made any radio broadcasts or personal appearances. Unfortunately, Crown's session logs are not specific regarding the personnel of the bands backing Palloy, which often identified themselves with different names, although most of his sides were issued as by "Charlie Palloy and His Orchestra," without any information about the identity of the musicians who graced many of the recordings with some undeniably hot solos. As was the common practice then, these house bands also used stock arrangements, though in the case of Palloy's discs, he is allotted plenty of room for both his vocals and guitar playing. This is actually rather unusual in that other musicians, like Lucas and Lang, who were definitely more popular than Palloy, often did not get as much solo space on vocal records as Palloy. However, this is to the benefit of the listener, as he really was quite an accomplished crooner and guitar player.

The only CD completely devoted to Palloy that can be purchased at the time of this writing is Vocals & Guitar (The Old Masters), a very recommendable release that includes 22 sides that he cut for Crown in 1932 and 1933, as well as his only appearance on the Columbia label, providing the vocals for the 1933 version of "On a Steamer Coming Over" by the Meyer Davis Orchestra. The song selection makes it clear that Crown, a budget label distributed through Woolworth's, was attempting to market Palloy as a Crosby soundalike, having him record numbers associated with Bing ("Try a Little Tenderness," "Learn to Croon," "Just an Echo in the Valley," and particularly "Brother, Can You Spare a Dime") to be sold at a much lower price than Crosby's originals. That is precisely the kind of market niche for which budget operations such as Crown were aiming during the depths of the Great Depression, and Palloy handles this material with ease, usually managing not to sound exactly like a carbon copy of Crosby.

The Meyer Davis Orchestra, with whom Palloy recorded one side for Columbia in 1933

One of the most interesting tracks in the collection is the reading of Duke Ellington's "It Don't Mean a Thing (If It Ain't Got That Swing)" complete with some scatting from Palloy and some jazzy muted trumpet and saxophone. His scatting abilities are also on further display on "Forty Second Street," which features a rather lengthy scat chorus that suggests that he enjoyed wordless singing. Palloy's guitar shines on some quite extended solos, particularly on "The Gold Diggers Song (We're in the Money)" and "I've Got to Sing a Torch Song," and he also shows his talent for singing at slower, though still danceable tempos on "Stormy Weather" and "Say It Isn't So." Palloy proves to be very versatile throughout, both as a singer and as a rhythm and lead guitarist, making us wish that he had enjoyed a longer, more successful career. As it was, however, his recordings span less than two years, and after 1933, he disappeared into total obscurity never to surface again. The rarity and quality of these sides, together with Dodge's very informative liner notes (which, when writing about Palloy, is itself quite a remarkable accomplishment), definitely make this Old Masters CD an essential purchase. As for the mystery surrounding Palloy, hopefully one day some lucky researcher will come upon some time-worn documents in some forgotten basement that will shed some light on his obscure figure. Until then, though, Palloy's few recordings are a real pleasure to enjoy.


 


Note on Charlie Palloy's Vocals & Guitar CD

This fine Charlie Palloy compilation can be obtained from major online retailers such as Amazon. It can also be purchased by writing to The Old Masters. P.O. Box 25358. San Mateo, CA 94402. USA.

Palloy's version of "Try a Little Tenderness" is also available on the compilation The First Crooners Vol. 2: 1930-1934 (Take Two), which includes tracks by other neglected crooners of the era, such as Sam Coslow, Chick Bullock, Art Gillham, Little Jack Little, Jack Miller, Smith Ballew, Carl Brisson, and Conrad Thibault, to name but a few.

Vintage Records Review Desk 5: Dick Todd, Nat King Cole, Buddy Greco, Ronnie Deauville, Herb Jeffries

In addition to Nat King Cole's excellent After Midnight, one of my favorites among his always remarkable Capitol albums, this new post in the Vintage Records Review Desk series features four male vocalists that are now forgotten or that, in my opinion at least, do not currently enjoy the recognition that they deserve. In fact, in the case of three of them (Dick Todd, Ronnie Deauville, and Herb Jeffries) compact-disc releases are actually rather scarce, yet all the choices presented here are highly recommendable. Incidentally, the singers that are spotlighted today have taken many a tip from Cole, from Bing Crosby, or from both of them.

In my recent article about Jean Sablon, I mentioned the name of Dick Todd, one of the many singers of the 1930s and 1940s who were influenced by the sound of Bing Crosby, so I thought it would be a good idea to begin this new installment of the Vintage Records Review Desk by spotlighting one of the precious few CDs currently available by this crooner once hailed as the "Canadian Crosby." The moniker was not without justification, since Todd often reminds us of Bing's husky voice from the 1930s, but it certainly has had a damaging effect on his legacy, as Todd has gone down in the history of pop music—when his name is brought up at all, that is—merely as one of several Crosby imitators. In his early years as a solo act, Frank Sinatra recorded a parody of "Sunday, Monday, or Always" for a V-Disc which went, "I'll soon become a wreck / They're breathing down my neck / Dick Haymes, Dick Todd, and Como." If anything, this is ample proof of Todd's popularity at the time (he had actually begun his recording career slightly earlier than Young Blue Eyes) yet unfortunately, his popularity began to dwindle in the late 1940s, and by the 1950s, he was a relic of the past, forgotten and unable to make any sort of comeback. However, even a superficial listen to the two-CD set Orchids for Remembrance (Jasmine, 2003), containing 52 sides cut for Bluebird during Todd's heyday, between 1938 and 1942,  reveals how unfair his fate was.

For starters, even though his phrasing and intonation were shaped by Crosby, it is very clear that he was not just a Bing soundalike; rather, he did have a style of his own and possessed a rich voice that, like Crosby's, went over well on radio. Moreover, his confidence in his abilities as a singer seems to increase with the passing of time, aided by the polished playing of the studio orchestra under the direction of Leonard Joy. One of the main differences with Crosby is that Todd was no jazz singer; he was at his best as a balladeer, and on this Jasmine compilation there are plenty of examples of his mastery of slow numbers, including a beautiful version of "Moonlight Serenade," one of the highlights of a set that also features Todd's takes on some oft-recorded tunes, such as "I'll Be Seeing You," "Polka Dots and Moonbeams," "How About You?" and "Say It Isn't So," to name but four. After several years of inactivity and personal problems, Todd was almost penniless when he passed away in 1973. Mr. David Lobosco remembers Todd in a rather detailed article published in his blog, A Trip Down Memory Lane, which you can read here.

By the mid-1950s, Nat King Cole had gradually concentrated on singing and had become a pop star thanks to a slew of commercially and artistically successful concept albums for Capitol. Not that he had totally forgotten his past as the founder and leader of the trailblazing King Cole trio, which paved the way for so many similarly styled combos, but there was undeniably more money in pop singing, and he was gifted with a unique voice that captivated the public's imagination. And then, in 1956, Cole stepped back into jazz territory by revisiting his trio sound on an album entitled After Midnight (Capitol, 1956 / 1999). Cut over four sessions, the LP finds Cole playing piano and singing in the company of John Collins on guitar, Charlie Harris on bass, and Lee Young (Lester Young's brother) on drums.  Each session features a guest star, which is a fine idea because it adds depth to the sound of the trio-turned-quartet, particularly if we bear in mind that the guests are musicians of the caliber of trumpeter Harry "Sweets" Edison, altoist Willie Smith, violinist Stuff Smith, and valve trombonist Juan Tizol. As the title seems to imply, this is a very relaxed album, with everyone involved interacting seamlessly as Cole revisits classics such as "Sweet Lorraine," "Just You, Just Me," "Caravan" (with the benefit of composer Tizol's trombone), and "I Know That You Know." The ballads ("Blame It On My Youth," "You're Looking at Me") are moody, and there are also some nice surprises in a lovely, violin-laden reading of "When I Grow Too Old to Dream" and the lesser-known "Don't Let It Go to Your Head." This is essential listening for any jazz aficionado, and the 1999 CD reissue adds six more tracks to the twelve on the original LP. The most interesting of these are a pensive ballad treatment of "You Can Depend on Me," usually associated with blues shouter and big band singer Jimmy Rushing, and a swinging take on Johnny Mercer's "Candy."

One of several vocalists who have recognized their debt to Nat King Cole is Buddy Greco, a prolific singer and pianist whose playing is heavily influenced by Cole and whose long career yielded notable albums such as Buddy Greco at Mister Kelly's and Songs for Swinging Losers. Some critics have noted that Greco is best experienced in a nightclub setting because of his engaging stage persona and his penchant for improvisation. If that is true, though, the two-fer My Buddy / On Stage! (Collectables, 1999) is not the best place to hear Greco live, since, as Will Friedwald has noted, these seem to be studio albums with added sound effects to make them appear to be live recordings. On aural evidence, it is hard to disagree with Mr. Friedwald, but it does not matter, because these are two of the best releases of Greco's career, recorded for Epic in 1959 and 1964 respectively. I have never understood the appeal of contrived live albums, particularly when the technology did exist to record actual live performances, but Tony Bennett's fine sessions with the Count Basie orchestra, made around the time that My Buddy was cut, were also issued that way. Both LPs presented here are equally interesting, though, and they are full of very inspired moments, such as, for instance, the sparse, swinging versions of "Like Young" and "Just in Time," the introspective treatment of Erroll Garner's "Misty" that features a celesta, the appealing Italian tune "(I Don't Care) Only Love Me," and the lyrically updated readings of "The Lady Is a Tramp" and "How About You" on My Buddy. Cut five years later, On Stage! seems to leave more room for Greco's piano playing ("Get Me to the Church on Time," for instance, includes a very engaging solo from him, while "It's Such a Happy Day" is an instrumental version of a rather lackluster tune written by Jackie Gleason) and also has its highlights, among them "The Best Man," "Dreamy," a magnificent extended reading of "I Can't Get Started," and the bluesy "The Best Is Yet to Come" and "Nobody Knows You When You're Down and Out." This Collectables CD reissue also includes Greco's minor hit "Mr. Lonely," and even though the sound is good, the notes by Mark Marymont, while briefly outlining Greco's career, do not offer any information about the two albums contained herein, which is strange to say the least.

Florida-born Ronnie Deauville began his career as a big band vocalist during the twilight of the great band era, and before trying his luck on his own, he was featured with Glen Gray, Ray Anthony, and former Glenn Miller sideman Tex Beneke. However, his best effort was an album that he cut in 1956 (the same year as Cole's After Midnight) with a quintet led by Lloyd Shaffer. Titled Smoke Dreams, it is a collection of subdued, intimate arrangements that are perfect for Deauville's thin, though hauntingly expressive voice. The quintet provides a relaxed setting for Deauville to shine on very slow numbers such as "I Kiss Your Hand, Madame," "Love Is Here to Stay," "Say It Isn't So," "Something to Remember You By," and "I Had the Craziest Dream." Unfortunately, Deauville was involved in a car accident, following which his life depended on an iron lung for more than a year. This, together with his problems with polio and the fact that he was wheelchair-bound from then on, was a blow from which his career, sadly, never recovered. But Smoke Dreams remains a truly forgotten gem of 1950s classy pop singing that it is high time to rediscover. Fortunately, this is now possible thanks to The Vocal Touch of Ronnie Deauville (Sounds of Yesteryear, 2012), a very welcome British CD reissue that includes Deauville's wonderful 1956 LP, augmented by tracks from his 1948 radio broadcasts with Beneke and 1950 studio recordings with Anthony. The liner notes by Michael Highton are a little short but offer an overview of Deauville's tragically brief career, and if anyone is interested in reading some more about his life, there is a neatly written article on him here.

And finally, an artist with a long career who is vastly underrated these days is the multifaceted Herb Jeffries, a one-time featured vocalist with the Duke Ellington orchestra (with whom he scored a big hit with "Flamingo") who also cultivated a career as an actor, starring in a series of all-black B-western movies as a singing cowboy named the Bronze Buckaroo. In his approach to the vocal art we can find traces of Nat King Cole and Bing Crosby, so it is no wonder that he paid tribute to both of them on two of his albums from the 1970s, If I Were King and I Remember the Bing, with the Lou Levy Trio and Quartet respectively. Gary Crosby wrote the liner notes for the latter, and the two of them are gathered together on a very recommendable 2003 Audiophile reissue. As in the case of Dick Todd, there is precious little available by Jeffries on CD, but fortunately, Say It Isn't So (Bethlehem, 1957), is an exception to this, at least at the time of this writing. By the late 1950s, Jeffries was no longer singing with Ellington and had been touring Europe for a while before he entered the recording studio to cut this LP. As the original liner notes describe it, "this is truly a Torch album," a set of twelve intimate ballads thoughtfully arranged and conducted by Russ Garcia that allows Jeffries ample freedom of expression as his rich, warm, always perfectly modulated voice sings of the heartache caused by lost love. The song selection is outstanding, including classic tunes like the title track (coincidentally, one of the songs on Ronnie Deauville's Smoke Dreams), "When Your Lover Has Gone," "It's the Talk of the Town," "Angel Eyes," "Glad to Be Unhappy," "The End of a Love Affair," and the somewhat under-recorded "Dinner for One, Please James." There is also a sort of tribute to Crosby with the inclusion of "Easy to Remember" and "(I Don't Stand) A Ghost of a Chance," and overall this is an excellent, well-rounded album that, albeit often overlooked, is one of the high points of Jeffries's career. And yes, that beautiful lady in a nightgown on the cover is, indeed, a young Barbara Eden, about eight years away from becoming the star of the NBC sitcom I Dream of Jeannie! Who knew???

The original cover of Ronnie Deauville's 1956 album Smoke Dreams

"Je Suis Sex-Appeal": Jean Sablon and the Art of Crooning in French

In the early 1930s, after Bing Crosby rose to prominence with a vocal style that was a noticeable modernization of the sound of 1920s crooners such as Gene Austin, Nick Lucas, Johnny Marvin, and Rudy Vallee, many other vocalists followed in his wake. Far from the high-pitched sound of his predecessors, Crosby's style of crooning was richer and much more appealing and exciting because it oozed with elements taken from the jazz idiom by way of Louis Armstrong and his contemporaries. This was the kind of music that shaped many of Der Bingle's best records throughout his career, his love of jazz always evident in his phrasing and sense of rhythm. The list of artists that were influenced by Crosby would be too long, so suffice it to say that it includes the likes of Buddy Clark, Perry Como, Dick Haymes, and a young Frank Sinatra, among countless others. Canada had its own "Canadian Crosby" in the often underrated Dick Todd, and across the pond, British singers such as Sam Browne, Denny Dennis, and later Michael Holliday (whose admiration for Bing was such that he strove to sound like Bing) were inspired by Crosby's hugely influential records to find their own style. And then, across the Channel, in France, there was Jean Sablon.

Grappelli & Reinhardt

Sablon, born in Nogent-sur-Marne, not too far from Paris, in 1906, actually had quite a few things in common with Bing. Both of them grew up fascinated by the strains of early jazz, and if Crosby was one of the first vocalists to understand the expressive possibilities of the microphone and to use it as an actual instrument, Sablon was reportedly the first French performer to appear on stage with a microphone, something that did not happen until 1935 or 1936. Crosby recorded all kinds of songs, from jazz numbers to Hawaiian ballads to country-and-western tunes, while Sablon seemed to be always in the avant-garde, bringing popular new rhythms into the French musical mainstream. Also, while Bing relished the company of jazz musicians such as Eddie Lang and Joe Venuti, Sablon was among the first to record with French jazz legends like Django Reinhardt and Stephane Grappelli. More than any other of his contemporaries, Sablon was responsible for introducing jazz into French popular music, and in fact, the very first time that Reinhardt ever soloed on wax was on Sablon's 1934 record of "Le Jour Où Je Te Vis," which was, not coincidentally, a French version of Bing Crosby's "The Day You Came Along." Michael Dregni describes the solo in his interesting biography of Reinhardt, Django: The Life and Music of a Gypsy Legend (Oxford UP, 2004):

While it was a simple chorus, it enhanced the aura of the song with sympathetic obbligatos and graceful ornamentation. Django inserted artful arpeggios into the arrangement, bridging verses as well as offering harmonic counterpoints to Sablon' vocal melody. The solo was not the audacious Django of his musette or jazz playing but rather was restrained and stylish, the perfect complement to Sablon's music. (67-68)

This is not to say that Sablon's voice is always "restrained and stylish"; on the contrary, he demonstrates an excellent sense of swing, which is evident, for example, in his jazzy version of the traditional song "Sur Le Pont d'Avignon," as well as on many of his other tracks with Reinhardt, such as "Je Suis Sex-Appeal" and "Par Correspondance," and in his French reading of "The Continental," recorded as "Rythme du Bal Continental" with Django on guitar and the excellent American pianist Garland Wilson in 1935. All of these tracks can be found on The Great French Stars: J'Attendrai (ASV/Living Era), a currently out-of-print collection of Sablon's 1930s recordings, many of which feature Reinhardt and Grappelli.

Sablon hosted hie own NBC radio show

But Sablon was equally at home as a balladeer, performing slow numbers with ease and gusto in a style that is often reminiscent of Crosby. On these, he is usually accompanied by the highly accomplished orchestras of André Ekyan and Wal-Berg, and they include classics such as "J'Attendrai," "Je Sais Que Vous Etes Jolie," "Un Amour Comme Le Notre" (sung as a duet with his sister Germaine) and "Vous Qui Passez Sans Me Voir," this last one written by the great Charles Trenet. His popularity throughout Europe led to a trip to the United States in 1937, where he met Cole Porter and George Gershwin, hosting his own NBC coast-to-coast radio show and guesting on several other programs alongside, among others, Frances Langford and Eddie Cantor. While in the United States, Sablon cut several sides in English, yet somehow he does not sound as convincing on "Stardust," "Two Sleepy People," and "Can I Forget You?" as he does on his French hits. Unlike Maurice Chevalier, whose French accent when singing and speaking in English actually advanced his career as an actor and a vocalist in the United States, Sablon never actually achieved major star status stateside (at least not to the extent that Chevalier or Charles Aznavour did) although he toured North and South America more than once throughout his long career. His English recordings are nonetheless polished and charming, but he is definitely at his best when he adapts American songs into French, as he does in his excellent 1939 rendition of (yet again) Crosby's "I've Got a Pocketful of Dreams" as "J'Suis Pas Millionaire."

Always a globetrotter, Sablon toured internationally, bringing his career as a live performer to an end in the 1980s with farewell stage appearances in Paris, New York, and Rio de Janeiro. He passed away in 1994, and his recorded oeuvre is vast and rich, although unfortunately many of his recordings are yet to be reissued on CD. For those interested in delving into his music, the best choice as of this writing is the indispensable (though recently deleted) four-CD set 100 Chansons (EMI France, 2008), which, though not arranged chronologically, presents one hundred sides from different periods of his career, making it the most complete Sablon collection to date. Jean Sablon became the prototype of the French jazz-tinged crooner in a country that for decades was fascinated by jazz. Though he was originally inspired by Crosby, Sablon in turn influenced several other singers that followed him, among them legendary names such as Charles Trenet, Yves Montand, Georges Brassens (his duets with Sablon on television are delightful to watch), and Jacques Brel. Suave, elegant, and always projecting an irresistibly classy nonchalance on stage, Sablon is an icon of the French chanson, and his importance was once very accurately (and poetically) summed up by his friend, the writer and all-around intellectual Jean Cocteau: "The waves, the sounds of the streets, the records, the refrains whistled by cyclists out on the street turned Jean Sablon into a great, vague face beloved of one and all, but without a clear shape, like memory." And, indeed, his voice is like a memory that is always a pleasure to rediscover.

Jean Sablon and Duke Ellington

In this excellent video, Sablon leans over the piano and softy croons Duke Ellington's "Solitude" while Ellington himself tickles the ivories.


More information on Jean Sablon

If you are interested in finding out more about Jean Sablon, visit the Official Jean Sablon Website, where you will find more information both in English and in French.

Sablon was the first French singer to employ a microphone

Update on October 30, 2013

One of the users of the Crosby Fan World forum, Jeremyrose, posted a message after reading this article on Jean Sablon (who is, he says, one of his favorite crooners) to recommend further releases to those wishing to explore Sablon's recorded output. Here are his recommendations, transcribed directly from his post on the Crosby Fan World forum:

The French company Fremeaux et Associés has two double CD sets of Sablon tracks, the best of which is the set covering 1933-1946. Bing gets a mention in the French translation of the lyric of "These Foolish Things"—"Ces Petites Choses." There is also a release available as a download from an English company called Pristine Classical, who specialize in downloads of historic classical recordings. They have got a jazz section, however, and there is a Jean Sablon release called Songs of a Boulevardier. It's a "three-albums-on-one" release, and included are the eight tracks of a 10-inch LP (Songs of a Boulevardier) which Sablon recorded in America in the early 50s. There is a nice Crosby connection in that the musical director on that album is the Philco Radio Time stalwart, Skitch Henderson.

Thanks for the information, Jeremyrose! It is also nice to know that the French translator of "These Foolish Things" kept the allusion to Bing Crosby that the original text of the song already has. Indeed, one of the things that the beautiful original lyric by Eric Maschwitz lists is "the song that Crosby sings."

Vintage Records Review Desk 4: Ziggy Elman, Bob Manning, Johnny Desmond, Benny Goodman & Anita O'Day, Dorothy Carless

Following a couple of trips to Nashville and Memphis, this new installment in our Vintage Records Review Desk series features recent purchases that I have been playing quite a bit in the past few weeks. Though some of these recordings are rather obscure, all of them are highly recommendable additions to anyone's collection. A compilation of sides by the orchestra led by trumpeter Ziggy Elman, a live recording of Benny Goodman with Anita O'Day, and CDs by vocalists Bob Manning, Johnny Desmond, and Dorothy Carless will be under critical scrutiny this time.

We begin with Philadelphia-born trumpeter Ziggy Elman, one of the best and most popular star soloists of the Swing Era, a multi-instrumentalist who was also proficient on alto sax and trombone. Elman became known primarily through his association with Benny Goodman (he appeared at Goodman's landmark concert at Carnegie Hall in 1938) and Tommy Dorsey, with whom he worked off and on in the 1940s. After World War II, and just as the heyday of the big bands was coming to an end, he formed his own orchestra and made some outstanding recordings for MGM in New York and Los Angeles. All the sides that are known to have been released are compiled on The Issued Recordings 1947 & 1949 (Jazz Band, 2000). Though not commercially successful at the time, these are very appealing recordings superbly played by a band that at different times included great musicians such as Charlie Shavers, Babe Russin, Heinie Beau, Buddy DeFranco, Louis Bellson, Buddy Cole, and Perry Botkin, among others. Most of the charts were thoughtfully arranged by Sid Cooper, with highlights including "How High the Moon," "Body and Soul," and "I'll Get By," as well as tunes usually associated with Elman, such as "Zaggin' with Zig" and his own classic composition "And the Angels Sing." Vocals were provided by two fine, though now mostly forgotten singers: Virginia Maxey and Bob Manning. For more information on Ziggy Elman, you can find a very interesting article here.

Speaking of Bob Manning, he may very well be one of the most under-recorded vocalists in the history of popular music, which certainly is a pity, because his voice was fantastic and had a romantic, soothing tone that should have turned him into a major star. But perhaps he arrived on the scene a little too late, making most of his best solo recordings in the 1950s, when the popularity of many former band vocalists like himself was in steady decline. As a result, the only CD compilation of his Capitol output currently available is the eighteen-song Spotlight on Bob Manning (Capitol, 1994), which leaves us yearning for more. All the tracks were recorded between 1953 and 1955 and find Manning backed by various studio orchestras conducted by Monty Kelly, although there are some titles made with Sid Feller, Nelson Riddle, and surprisingly, Bobby Hackett. Obviously influenced by Dick Haymes, Manning's warm baritone was at his best on ballads, which is what he mostly sings here, taking well-known standards such as "I Had the Craziest Dream," "These Foolish Things," "That Old Feeling," "You've Changed," and many others at very slow tempi that underscore the intimate nature of each song. Listening to these beautiful recordings, one cannot help but wish that some label would decide to release a more comprehensive collection of Manning's rather obscure body of work.

Another vocalist who began his career as a big band singer and later struck out on his own was Johnny Desmond. Not as well remembered today as other singers of the period, Desmond, unlike Manning, made his most enduring recordings in the 1940s, at a time when his popularity among World War II servicemen earned him the nickname of "the G.I. Sinatra." Indeed, throughout the forties, he was a featured vocalist with Bob Crosby, Gene Krupa, and Glenn Miller, making a series of radio broadcasts with Miller in Europe that even called for him to sing in German! Desmond was a constant presence in the charts until the early 1950s, and in January 1958, he recorded his best album, simply titled Johnny Desmond Swings (Pickwick, 1997) and produced by Dave Pell for the Tops label. The album was one of John Williams' early arranging assignments, and it is very clear that he had been listening closely to Frank Sinatra's classic Capitol LPs arranged by Nelson Riddle and Billy May. Some of Williams' arrangements work really well ("There's a Small Hotel," "All of You," "This Can't Be Love"), while some others are a little overdone ("I Got Plenty of Nuttin'," "It Ain't Necessarily So"). Even some of the song choices point toward Sinatra here, and in my opinion, the most satisfying track on the album is the very pensive reading of "It's the Talk of the Town." Again, it really is too bad that Desmond did not get a chance to make more albums like this.

From Germany comes a very interesting release, which is a part of an ongoing series of live big band recordings and bears the title of Benny Goodman Orchestra Feat. Anita O'Day (Jazzhaus, 2011). The concert, recorded in Freiburg in October 1959, is notable because it marks one of the few instances when Benny Goodman and Anita O'Day performed together. Goodman always showed a keen ear for talent, and his band on this date includes Russ Freeman (piano), Red Norvo (vibraphone), Jack Sheldon (trumpet), Flip Phillips (tenor sax), Bill Harris (trombone), Jerry Dodgion (flute), Jimmy Wyble (guitar), Red Wootton (bass), and John Markham (drums) and is one of the best outfits that he put together in the 1950s and '60s. Yet the performance becomes truly electrifying when O'Day walks onstage to sing classics such as "Honeysuckle Rose," "Gotta Be This or That" (whose lyrics Goodman suddenly forgets!) or a bluesy medley that comes halfway through the concert and is one of the highlights of the CD. The sound is excellent, and although the liner notes in English and German are a little sparse, this is a very valuable addition to any Goodman or O'Day collection.

Very popular with audiences in her native Great Britain in the 1930s and '40s as a featured vocalist with great dance bands such as that of Ray Noble (very briefly at the beginning of her career), Bert Ambrose, and most of all, Geraldo, the name of Dorothy Carless remains largely obscure in the United States, even though she actually spent an important part of her life and made some fine recordings over here. Her two best albums, both recorded in New York in 1957 for the small Hi-Fi label, are gathered in one fantastic CD titled Here Lies Love (Flare, 2009), augmented by two unrelated tracks cut in 1949. On the first of these two LPs, The Carless Torch, she is backed by a trio led by guitarist Barney Kessel as she tackles twelve torch songs including standards like "It's Easy to Remember," "Ev'ry Time We Say Goodbye," "My Old Flame," and "I'll Never Be the Same," as well as lesser-known gems such as "Baby, Baby, You're the One" and "Too Late Now." The drumless trio of guitar, vibraphone, and bass suits Carless' voice perfectly well, and as we listen we discover echoes of June Christy here and Julie London there. But Carless was also adept at playing piano, as she shows on the second LP, Mixed Emotions, as she sits at the keyboard and accompanies her own singing. The material here is not all that different from that on the album with Kessel, mixing well-known tunes ("Little Girl Blue," "I Get Along without You Very Well," "One for My Baby") with rarely heard ones (Harold Arlen and Johnny Mercer's "Fancy Free," Cole Porter's "Were Thine That Special Face"), and Carless' piano playing is often sparse and intimate. One wishes that the liner notes of the CD edition were a little more detailed and informative, but the two albums definitely fall under the category of hidden treasures that need to be rediscovered, and hopefully this British release will do its part to bring Dorothy Carless the recognition that she deserves.

Glenn Miller and Dorothy Carless during a BBC radio broadcast