AuthorA. G. Kozak

Solo Recordings

“Everything I Have Is Yours” (1934)

“Everything I Have Is Yours.” Lyrics by Harold Adamson, music by Burton Lane. Composed for the 1933 film Dancing Lady. Recorded in January 1934 by Maurice Elwin. Imperial 2951 mx. 6546-2.

Maurice Elwin – “Everything I Have Is Yours” (1934)

Harold Adamson and Burton Lane wrote many songs for films in the 1930s, beginning with Dancing Lady (1933). In it, Joan Crawford plays a performer torn between two men: a wealthy suitor (Franchot Tone) who offers marriage, money, and an escape from show business, and a dynamic stage director (Clark Gable) who represents an ambitious career. Early in the love triangle, Tone and Crawford are dancing at a party when the bandleader, actor and singer Art Jarrett, introduces the song “Everything I Have Is Yours.”

The song is a lavish declaration of devotion and self-sacrifice, and Maurice Elwin’s 1934 recording takes it at its word: he holds nothing back, singing with real passion and conviction. Among his solo records, this one stands out as every bit as exciting as his dance-band vocals. The studio band also deserves credit. Its members are anonymous, but they were probably musicians closely associated with Jay Wilbur, musical director at Crystalate, Imperial’s parent company.

The record was made early in 1934, the last of Elwin’s very busy recording years. He continued to record in 1935 and 1936, but his output was greatly diminished. Late in his career his voice also seems to have changed, suddenly sounding artificially mellifluous and a little throaty. Friends I have played these late records for have suspected he was imitating Bing Crosby. I suspect instead that the change reflects his struggle to compensate for the “pernicious catarrh” that eventually ended his singing career.

American artists who recorded “Everything I Have Is Yours” in 1933 include George Olsen and His Orchestra (v. Joe Morrison), Ruth Etting, Jerry Freeman and His Orchestra (v. Frank Sylvano), Ted Weems and His Orchestra (v. Elmo Tanner), Joe Venuti and His Orchestra (v. Howard Phillips), Rudy Vallee and His Connecticut Yankees (v. Rudy Vallee), The Freddy Martin Orchestra (v. Elmer Feldkamp), Irene Taylor, Dick Himber and His Essex House Orchestra (v. Joey Nash), Cliff Perrine and His Orchestra (v. Flo Jordan), and Gene Austin.

Besides Elwin, British artists who recorded the song in 1934 include Al Bowlly, Harry Roy and His Orchestra (v. Ivor Moreton), Scott Wood and His Orchestra (as The Silver Screen Orchestra; v. Sam Browne; in a Dancing Lady medley), Harry Leader and His Band (as Joe Taub and His Melodians; v. Sam Browne), The New Grosvenor House Band (dir. Syd Lipton; v. Les Allen), Billy Merrin and His Commanders (v. Billy Merrin), Roy Fox and His Band (v. Denny Dennis), and Eddie Wood and His Band.

Ronnie Munro

“The Riff Song” (1927)

“The Riff Song.” Words by Otto Harbach, Oscar Hammerstein 2nd, and Frank Mandel, with music by Sigmund Romberg. Recorded in London in February 1927 by Ronnie Munro and His Dance Orchestra, with vocals by Maurice Elwin. Ariel 4251 (from Parlophone E-5762) mx. E-1206-1.

Personnel: Ronnie Munro-p dir. Jack Jackson-Max Goldberg-Frank Wilson-Lloyd Shakespeare-t / Lew Davis-tb / Charlie Swinnerton-Ben Davis-?Nat Star-cl-as / Buddy Featherstonhaugh-cl-ts / vn / Barry Mills or Carrol Gibbons-2nd p / Len Shevill-bj-g / bb-sb / Max Bacon-d-vib / Wag Abbey-Rudy Starita-d-x / Maurice Elwin-v

Ronnie Munro (v. Maurice Elwin) – “The Riff Song” (1927)

From 1921 to 1926, Moroccan Berber insurgents known as Riffians (named for the mountainous Rif region) rebelled against the colonizing forces of Spain. The Riffians proved to be formidable and skilled opponents, in spite of the asymmetry of the warfare (with the Spanish using aircraft and even chemical weapons). It was only with the intervention in 1924 of France (which had its own protectorate in Morocco), aided by American mercenary aviators, that the Berbers began to falter. In 1926 they were forced to surrender.

Meanwhile, in America (which was trying to remain neutral), Hungarian-born composer Sigmund Romberg and his team of lyricists (Harbach, Hammerstein, and Mandel) seem to have gauged that popular revulsion at the involvement of the American mercenaries in what was perceived as an unfair conflict, as well as a growing vogue for all things Saharan, would create an enthusiastic audience for an operetta sympathizing with the Riffians. The Desert Song had a convoluted plot involving a masked white savior character named Pierre, who, while posing as a Berber and leading the Riffians against the French, is actually himself French and even the son of the French general opposing the Berbers. As the rebel leader “the Red Shadow,” Pierre leads a double life comparable to those of the Scarlet Pimpernel and Zorro (a more recent parallel would be Superman/Clark Kent). Early in the drama, he sings “The Riff Song,” in which he boasts of the valor and prowess of “the Riffs” (i.e., the Riffians) and the Red Shadow.

Ronnie Munro’s arrangement of the song is similar to the one that American Don Voorhees had used the previous year and includes a few (possibly not very authentic) gestures in the direction of world music that nevertheless serve to summon a feeling of place. Maurice Elwin is given just one brief iteration of the chorus to sing, but it stands out as a particularly impressive vocal performance. Elwin had had his formal education at the Royal Academy of Music, where operatic technique would have been a mainstay of instruction. It is pleasing to hear him applying his training judiciously in the context of operetta.

“The Riff Song” was recorded in America in 1926 by Nat Shilkret and the Victor Orchestra (v. The Revelers) and by Don Voorhees and His Earl Carroll Vanities Orchestra (v. The Shannon Quartet). In 1927, British artists who recorded “The Riff Song” include Alfredo’s Band, the Savoy Orpheans (dir. Carroll Gibbons), Jack Payne and His Hotel Cecil Orchestra (v. orchestra), the Debroy Somers Band (in a Desert Song medley), Harry Bidgood’s Orchestra (on Aco and Coliseum with vocalist John Thorne and on Broadcast with Bobby Sanders), Stan Greening’s New Regenta Orchestra (in a Desert Song medley), and Bert Firman’s Dance Orchestra (as Eugene Brockman’s Dance Orchestra).

Arthur Lally

“She’s My Slip of a Girl” (1930)

“She’s My Slip of a Girl.” Composed by Cyril Watters for the Melody Maker “All British Song Competition” (first prize, 1929). Recorded in Chelsea, London on January 31, 1930 by the Rhythm Maniacs under the musical direction of Arthur Lally with vocalist Maurice Elwin. Decca F-1630 mx. MB-914-2A.

Personnel: Arthur Lally-cl-as-bar / Sylvester Ahola-Dennis Ratcliffe-t / Ted Heath-tb / Danny Polo-cl-as / Joe Crossman or Johnny Helfer-cl-ts / Claude Ivy-p / Joe Brannelly-bj / Spike Hughes-sb / Max Bacon-d-vib / Maurice Elwin-v / Lew Stone-a1

The Rhythm Maniacs (v. Maurice Elwin) – “She’s My Slip of a Girl” (1930)

“She’s My Slip of a Girl” won first prize in the 1929 Melody Maker magazine “All British Song Competition,” which aimed to identify a foxtrot “considered worthy of holding its own with foreign importations.”2 The judges included C. B. Cochran, Noel Coward, and Jack Hylton, and there were 500 competitors. The prize was taken by Cyril Watters, a twenty-two-year-old pianist and musical clerk who would go on to compose over 250 songs and win many more prizes in the coming decades.

“She’s My Slip of a Girl” is undeniably catchy, even infectious, with its anapestic patter and rapid-fire rhyme scheme. The singer speaks of his elation (verging on ecstasy) at somehow having been so fortunate as to have a certain slender or otherwise diminutive type of woman in his life. The B part is particularly precious:

Maybe she's not a beauty,
But beauty's only skin deep.
She's the kind of a cutie
Knocks 'em all of a heap.

I know of no other lyrics that express so well the idea of a visceral attraction that transcends conventional standards for good looks.

Of the four British versions recorded of “She’s My Slip of a Girl,” the Rhythm Maniacs’ version best captures the trance-inducing qualities of the tune, which is repetitive yet never dull. As with many early Decca recordings, the sound engineers set the gain very high, and the song is blaringly loud. The result is that it almost pulsates, bringing out the nearly primal appeal of the Lew Stone arrangement. A quick scan over the personnel list reveals that the Rhythm Maniacs at this time were almost a subset of Ambrose’s orchestra.

One effect of the song’s high volume is the contrast between the blaring instrumental parts and Maurice Elwin’s vocal. The latter sounds deeply earnest — who would expect otherwise from Elwin? — but he is also enthusiastic, almost impassioned. There is considerable warmth in his voice. At a couple of points the melody goes rather high, and the baritone follows it upwards deftly, allowing himself to sound momentarily more vulnerable, as men sometimes do when they successfully sing above their usual range.

“She’s My Slip of a Girl” encapsulates for me one of the things that I love generally about Elwin: he is a fundamentally calm, mellow singer with a wholesome-sounding voice who found himself working with some of Britain’s hottest bands (I think particularly of the Firman bands along with Lally’s studio orchestras). To a certain extent he introduces a pleasant contrast with his comparatively composed vocal refrains, but at no time does he sound out of place.

To appreciate the brilliance of the Rhythm Maniac’s version of “She’s My Slip of a Girl” requires us to compare the other contemporary interpretations of the song, which happen to be all very good in their own ways. Eddie Hardie and His Night Club Boys recorded a December 1929 version on Piccadilly with a Harry Bentley vocal that is slow and bluesy. The same month, Ray Noble’s New Mayfair Dance Orchestra made a booming but elegant one, also comparatively slow, with touching vocals by Pat O’Malley, who scats gently at the end of the recording. In March 1930, Jack Payne and His BBC Dance Orchestra did a purely instrumental interpretation of the tune that must be at least as fast as the Rhythm Maniacs and whose arrangement is marked by amusing variations on the underlying tune that keep it from seeming overly repetitious. Finally, there is an interesting French version that I think may be a response to the Rhythm Maniacs.

  1. My thanks to Mike Thomas for providing me with the correct personnel lineup. ↩︎
  2. Daily Mirror, January 1, 1930, 4, British Newspaper Archive. ↩︎