Category Archives: Reissue

Various Artists: Black Sabbath- The Secret Musical History of Black-Jewish Relations

African-American performers sing Jewish songs

It’s not exactly a surprise that American musical history is filled with the combined efforts of African-American performers and Jewish songwriters. But this fifteen track collection shows that these collaborations often intertwined the two communities’ stories and struggles. Drawing together material across several decades, one hears tin pan alley, Jewish theater, and the borscht belt. Cab Calloway mixes Yiddish into his scat singing on “Utt-Da-Zy,” and the blues of “Baby Baby” prove a natural fit for Libby Holman and Josh White. The arrangements range from spare folk to fully-orchestrated productions like Eartha Kitt’s “Sholem,” the funky soul of Marlena Shaw’s “Where Can I Go” and the strut of Aretha Franklin’s “Swanee.” The set’s highlight is a nearly ten-minute live medley by the Temptations in which they work through the songs of Fiddler on the Roof (check here for video!). [©2010 hyperbolium dot com]

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Ola Belle Reed: Rising Sun Melodies

Pioneering Appalachian singer, songwriter and string player

Ola Belle Reed is destined for repeated rediscovery. An Appalachian singer steeped in the mix of folk styles born of America’s melting pot, she was discovered at her family’s country music park, by 1950s folk revivalists. By that time she’d already been playing and singing for several decades, and her national emergence at the 1969 Smithsonian Festival of American Folklife showcased a talent that was pure in its folk roots and mature in its expression. Her appearances resulted in recordings for the Folkways label and a 1976 audio documentary, My Epitaph. Her songs have been recorded by Marty Stuart, Del McCoury, the Louvin Brothers and Hot Rize, but it’s her own versions that best capture the folk tradition that she so fully embodied. Belle looked, dressed, talked and performed as a folk musician – part of a folk community rather than a commercially-bred folk scene.

Reed was bred among musicians: her father was a fiddler, one uncle ran a singing school and another taught her to play clawhammer banjo. Her father, uncle and aunt started a band in the early decades of the twentieth century, and Ola Belle and her brother Alex played in the North Carolina Ridge Runners before forming their own band in the late 1940s. Her husband Bud was also a musician, and his family combined with Reed’s to open the New River Ranch country music park. The park hosted most of Nashville’s major stars and many of Wheeling’s best acts, with Ola and Alex’s New River Boys and Girls serving as the opening act and house band. Oddly, at the crucial moment when Gei Zantzinger arrived to record the group, Alex chose not to participate – leaving the recording to be billed under Ola Belle’s name.

This set of nineteen tracks collects eleven from her previously released Folkways LPs and adds eight previously unreleased cuts from 1972 and 1976 archival recordings. The titles include Belle’s best-known originals, including the oft-covered “I’ve Endured” and “High on the Mountain,” as well as terrific renditions of fiddle tunes, mountain songs and nineteenth century standards that include “Bonaparte’s Retreat,” “Foggy Mountain Top,” and “Look Down That Lonesome Road.” Her son David Reed provides harmony on Ralph Stanley’s gospel “I Am the Man, Thomas,” but its her solo vocals that show how thoroughly she could imbue a lyric with aching loneliness. As she says in introducing “Undone in Sorrow,” “When I do a song that is as old as the hills and has the oldest flavor, as Betsy said, ‘If it’s a sad sad sad mournful song, when I get done with it, it’ll be pitiful’.”

Reed’s strength as a musician was matched by her humanitarianism as a Christian, both of which you can hear in the life force with which she leads her group through the disc-closing (and previously unreleased) rendition of “Here Comes the Light.” As she’s quoted saying in the 40-page booklet: “That’s what I am saying, that you cannot separate your music from your lifestyle. You cannot separate your lifestyle, your religion, and your politics from your music, it’s part of life.” Jeff Place’s extensive liner notes do a terrific job of telling Reed’s story through quotes, interviews and archival photos. If you haven’t already been clued in to Reed’s original recordings, this is an exemplary way to make their acquaintance. [©2010 hyperbolium dot com]

Ola Belle Music Festival

Allan Sherman: Songs for Swingin’ Livers Only!

Mid-60s song parodist returns to his Jewish roots

After gaining fame with his 1962 debut My Son the Folk Singer and launching a #2 hit with 1963’s “Hello Muddah, Hello Fadduh!,” Allan Sherman embarked on a series of high-profile projects and guest spots. By the time he recorded this 1964 release, the mood of the nation had changed radically with the assassination of JFK; the light-hearted parody that felt so effervescent in 1963 seemed a shade more superfluous in the shadows of 1964. In an effort to reconnect with his original audience, Sherman reintroduced the Jewish-rooted humor he’d largely abandoned over the course of several albums. His clever writing and ear for a tune were still sharp, but the record buying public wasn’t as hungry for silliness as they’d been two years earlier. Stories of gluttony, in-laws, modern pharmaceuticals, subway conductors and Jewish Lotharios are still funny, but what was once party entertainment – Sherman having honed his act in impromptu performances at friends’ homes – was now performance laden with expectations. There are many nice moments here, including the memorably anti-consumerist “The Twelve Gifts of Christmas,” but five albums along, the change in national zeitgeist seems to have dimmed Sherman’s fire. Collectors’ Choice straight-up reissue includes new liner notes by Dr. Demento. [©2010 hyperbolium dot com]

Allan Sherman: My Son, the Nut

Early ‘60s song parodist hits his commercial peak

Sherman’s third album, released in 1963 and recorded less than a year after his debut, was his most solid collection of songs, and spun off his most famous composition, “Hello Muddah, Hello Fadduh!” As on the previous albums there’s a live studio audience, but with his humor now a known quanity, these feel more like staged performances than impromptu party appearances. The applause and laughs are genuine and well deserved, but they’re polite rather than the uncontrolled punctuations of his first album. Traces of his earlier Jewish humor can still be heard here, but the broader reach of My Son, the Celebrity is the real pay off. The opening treatise on the French crown, “You Went the Wrong Way, Old King Louie,” is both a funny history lesson and a rocking good time. Sherman’s musical director, Lou Busch, continued to write serious arrangements to contrast with Sherman’s hilarious lyrics, but he also managed to mock musical icons of the time, slipping Henry Mancini’s “Peter Gunn Theme” into the opener and revving up a parody of “Rag Mop” for Sherman’s “Rat Fink.” Sherman unleashes his imagination on the complexities of early computerization, modern medicine, international cuisine, and suburban vexations. The album’s crown jewel, “Hello Muddah, Hello Fadduh! (A Letter from Camp),” is like a musical version of a Bob Newhart phone call. Even here, among the numerous hazards that befall the summer campers, Sherman manages to work in an intellectual reference to James Joyce’s “Ulysses.” The single won a Grammy and peaked at #2 on the Billboard chart, and seemed to be everywhere in the summer of 1963. Collectors’ Choice straight-up reissue includes new liner notes by Dr. Demento. [©2010 hyperbolium dot com]

Allan Sherman: My Son, the Celebrity

Second-helping of early ‘60s musical parody

Recorded only a few months after his debut album brought a surprising burst of public acclaim, writer/producer Allan Sherman recorded his second album of song parodies. As on his first, Jewish-American characters and life are primary subjects of his humor, but he also branches out in multicultural parody on the album’s cleverly written and popular “Mexican Hat Dance,” and winningly recasts the Dixieland “Won’t You Come Home Bill Bailey?” as the intellectual “Won’t You Come Home, Disraeli?” As with his debut, this was recorded in front of a small, hand-picked studio audience in an intimate party-like setting. Sherman and his conductor Lou Busch play the live audience as much as the songs, leaving space for the uproarious laughs and hanging onto punch lines for maximum effect. Also similarly to the debut, Sherman’s everyman voice is backed by Busch’s serious arrangements, giving the humor of the lyrics an extra measure of silliness. This second helping isn’t as deeply clever as the debut (which, to be fair, was refined over several years in impromptu performances that Sherman made at parties), but it shows that Sherman wasn’t a one-hit wonder and set the stage for his third and greatest album later the same year. Collectors’ Choice straight-up reissue includes new liner notes by Dr. Demento. [©2010 hyperbolium dot com]

Allan Sherman: My Son, the Folk Singer

Brilliantly silly song parodies from 1962

Allan Sherman’s gift for parody songs dates back well before his commercial success in the 1960s. As a struggling comedy writer in New York he sang parody songs at parties, and as the successful creator and producer of the television game show I’ve Got a Secret, his parodies became well-known within the industry. He even recorded a single (“Jake’s Song” b/w “A Satchel and a Seck”) – a flop – in 1951. He tried again in the mid-50s with a Jewish-humor translation of My Fair Lady (to be called “Fairfax Lady,” after the Jewish neighborhood of Los Angeles), but failing to gain the original composer’s permission, the project was shelved. It wasn’t until several years later, after a move to Los Angeles, that his continuing party appearances garnered famous fans who led him to a composer, Lou Busch, and a recording contract with Warner brothers.

Sherman recorded this debut album in 1962 in front of a hand-picked studio audience, and with their laughter supplying the rocket fuel, the album, and it’s hit single “Sarah Jackman” (to the tune of Frerer Jacques), crossed over from the borscht belt audience to nationwide acclaim. The keys to Sherman’s success are many. His lyrics are both clever and catchy, eliciting spontaneous mid-song applause and sticking memorable lines (“He was trampling through the warehouse / where the drapes of Roth are stored” sung to the tune of the “Battle Hymn of the Republic”) in the listener’s ears. His comedic timing, augmented by terrific musical accompaniment, is perfectly tuned to his intimate studio gatherings, and the seriousness of Busch’s arrangements neatly emphasizes the silliness of Sherman’s words. His humor is decidedly Jewish, even old-timey, but exalting an old-time tailor and using an accent to rhyme “fourth” with “cloth” is funny whether or not you’re of the tribe.

This initial batch of songs threads archetypical Jewish characters – overbearing families, the merchant class, dealmakers, Floridians, gossipers, kvetchers and bargain hunters – into then-familiar melodies. He sings the praises of seltzer water, and in the closing “Shticks and Stones” traipses through six minutes of brilliantly segued slices of stereotypical Jewish life, including business problems, hospital bills, kosher foods and aging. Incredibly, rooting his songs so deeply in the Jewish-American experience somehow produces humor that’s universally funny and nearly fifty years later, Sherman’s humor and craft stand on their own, entertaining to even those who don’t know the original tunes. Collectors’ Choice straight-up reissue includes new liner notes by Dr. Demento. [©2010 hyperbolium dot com]

Judy Collins: True Stories and Other Dreams

Judy Collins finds her voice as a songwriter

Ironically, given Collins’ brilliant singing voice, she took more than a decade to find her voice as a songwriter. She’d dabbled with an original song or two on earlier albums, but for this 1973 release she wrote over half the album’s tracks, selected “So Begins the Task” from the catalog of her former paramour Stephen Stills, and opened with Valerie Carter’s intimate and homey “Cook With Honey.” The years that she’d been carefully selecting and sympathetically interpreting others’ material paid off in the imagination of her pen. She paints a colorful portrait of Long Island fishermen, shares wistful memories of her grandparents, and offers an admiring observations of her younger sister. Collins’ rendition of Tom Paxton’s “The Hostage” seethes with the prison guard narrator’s indictment of Governor Rockefeller’s handling of the 1971 Attica riot, and a pair of requiems, one for a friend who committed suicide, the second for the slain revolutionary “Che” close the album on somber and deifying notes. Musically, Collins consolidates the variety of sounds she’d explored up to this point in her career, including straight folk, country-rock and orchestrated pop; but unlike her previous studio album, 1970’s Whales & Nightingales, this one flows smoothly and creates a pleasant album experience. [©2010 hyperbolium dot com]

Judy Collins: Whales & Nightingales

Judy Collins embraces the 1970s

After breaking from straight folk with 1968’s In My Life, Collins continued to explore new sounds and song sources. This, her first album of the 1970s, masterfully mixes disparate material from contemporary folkies Dylan, Baez and Seeger, an Irish nationalist ballad, an Aaron Kramer poem set to music by her keyboardist Michael Sahl, a double-dip into the catalog of Jacques Brel, a two-part original, and several original arrangements of traditional tunes. It’s a more idiosyncratic collection than her earlier albums, heightened by varied recording locations that each provides a unique sonic ambiance. The result isn’t always cohesive from song to song, but Collins voice is so singularly beautiful, and her talent for interpretation so strong, that the individual pieces merit listening. The opening trio of songs, “A Song for David,” “Sons of” and “The Patriot Game,” meditate on different aspects of war: those whose principles lead them away from the fight, those who soldier on for the good cause, and those who die. Her vocal on Seeger’s “Oh, Had I A Golden Thread” soars with gospel emotion above its country-tinged piano, bass and guitar backing, and humpback whale and ocean sounds provide then-contemporary backing for the traditional whaling song “Farewell to Tarwathie.” “Simple Gifts,” a nineteenth century Shaker hymn, and a Top-20 a cappella take on “Amazing Grace” bring Collins back to simpler arrangements that revel in the soul of the human voice. [©2010 hyperbolium dot com]

Frank Sinatra: September of My Years

A reflective Sinatra records his last perfect solo album

Frank Sinatra was hitting yet another career peak as the British Invasion stormed the popular music charts in the mid-60s. But such was his artistic force that the period saw the Chairman’s continued success on both the album and singles charts, successfully battling the storm unleashed by the Beatles and their compatriots. In 1965, with his 50th birthday looming, Sinatra took stock at mid-life and recorded thirteen songs with arranger Gordon Jenkins. Their choices delicately balanced a nostalgic look at the successes of youth, poignant thoughts on the limitations brought on by age, and optimistic visions of what time was still left to live. Sinatra had never before sounded this personally vulnerable, and the realization of his own mortality comes across like a genuine first thought.

The swagger of Sinatra’s recent swing albums gave way in this set to the sort of melancholy he’d explored with Jenkins on 1957’s brilliant Where Are You? and 1959’s No One Cares. Though Nelson Riddle is usually hailed as Sinatra’s most sympathetic arranger, Jenkins’ charts, both in 1957 and in 1965, winningly back Sinatra with lush strings that frame the singer exquisitely. In the thirty years since Sinatra broke into music as a boy singer, he’d proved himself America’s greatest interpretive vocalist, and now, in the approach to his golden years, he firmly established himself as the elder statesman of pop music. He’d record some good albums throughout the rest of the 1960s, but never again would he make such an arresting, innovative and deeply personal artistic statement.

The songs he picked for this album don’t fight the notion of aging, but neither do they succumb to its frailties. The title track, recorded five weeks after the rest of the album, opens the set with the stark realization of passing years, but “How Old Am I” opts to see the changes of age as maturity rather than weaknesses, and exults the power of love to keep one vital. Sinatra and Jenkins gathered “top of your game songs” and performed them with a presence and knowingness that was, particularly among Sinatra’s rich catalog of stellar recordings, astounding. Sinatra’s empty nest – his three children were grown and he was currently single – is heard in Jimmy Van Heusen and Sammy Cahn’s “It Gets Lonely Early,” but even here the lyric is both happily nostalgic and optimistically forward looking.

Sinatra was no stranger to thematic albums, but never before, and never after, would the theme connect so closely to his circumstance or the emotion spring from so deep in his heart. Recorded in only three sessions spread over eight days, September of My Years won the 1966 Grammy award for album of the year, and Sinatra won an individual Grammy for best male vocal performance for “It Was a Very Good Year.” Jenkins won for his brilliant arrangement of the same song, and Stan Cornyn (who returns to this reissue with new liner notes) won a Grammy for his original album notes (which themselves are reproduced in the booklet). Concord’s 2010 reissue adds two bonus tracks to the original baker’s dozen: a 1984 live recording of “This is All I Ask” and an alternate version of “How Old Am I?” released as a single. With or without the bonuses, this is one of a half-dozen essentials in any Sinatra fan’s collection. [©2010 hyperbolium dot com]

The Sons of the Pioneers: Sing the Stephen Foster Songbook

Nineteenth century American songs sung in 1930s close harmony

It’s a mark of Stephen Foster’s seminal place in American culture that the two songs opening this collection, “Oh Susanna” and “De Camptown Races,” are known more as part of the musical landscape than a particular songwriter’s creation. But those two, along with “Old Black Joe” and “Swanee River” are indeed part of Foster’s catalog of American musical classics. “Oh Susanna” was his first commercially successful composition, and though written in Cincinnati, it became emblematic of the California gold rush of the mid-1800s. Within five years he’d written many of his most memorable songs. But in an era of limited copyright, Foster barely profited from his songwriting, and by the early 1860s he was living in poverty in New York City, finally passing away in 1864. But his songs lived on, burnishing his reputation as one of the first truly American songwriters.

The Sons of the Pioneers came together in 1933, at a time that Foster’s songs were gaining renewed recognition. Kentucky adopted “My Old Kentucky Home” in 1928, and Florida adopted “Old Folks at Home” (aka “Swanee River”) in 1935. Though the Sons of the Pioneers are more typically recognized for their close harmony Western songs, they included Foster’s works in their Americana songbook right from the start. The 1934 and 1935 performances collected here include lead vocals from all three of the group’s founding members, Roy Rogers, Bob Nolan and Tim Spencer, as well as an instrumental version of “Swanee River” featuring fiddler Hugh Farr. The tracks from 1935 also include guitarist Karl Farr.

Foster’s occasional use of racial slang may have been acceptable in the 1850s or 1930s, but it will stick out to contemporary listeners. The performance of Foster’s songs by minstrel acts and the later repurposing of his lyrics by post-Reconstructionists further magnified the offense felt today; listeners may strain to take the dialect and epithets in the context of their times. These recordings are drawn from transcription recordings that the Sons of the Pioneers made for radio broadcast, and have not been widely available in the intervening decades. This is a treasure trove for fans of Stephen Foster as well as Sons of the Pioneers fans who want to hear their original harmony sounds. [©2010 hyperbolium dot com]