AuthorA. G. Kozak

Bert and John Firman

“Slow Music” (1928)

“Slow Music” (Lax-Craig). Recorded in B Studio, Hayes, Middlesex on October 17, 1928 by the Rhythmic Eight (under the musical direction of John Firman) with vocalists Maurice Elwin, Arthur Lally, and Johnny Helfer. Zonophone 5233 (and Salabert FZ-950) mx. Yy-14801-2.

Personnel: John Firman dir. Sylvester Ahola-t / Arthur Lally-cl-as-bar-v / Jack Miranda-as-bar / Johnny Helfer-cl-ts-v / ?Bert Read-p / Joe Brannelly-bj / Billy Bell-bb / Rudy Starita-d / Maurice Elwin-Arthur Lally-Johnny Helfer-v

The Rhythmic Eight (v. Maurice Elwin, Arthur Lally, and Johnny Helfer) – “Slow Music” (1928)

“Slow Music” is, paradoxically, an eminently memorable song that has been almost entirely overlooked by artists; indeed, the Rhythmic Eight recording of it may be the only one ever made. Even the songwriters are obscure. “Lax” being a comparatively rare surname, I would venture to guess that one songwriter was the Arnold T. Lax whose hometown newspaper declared him to be a “second [Irving] Berlin,”1 although I do not recognize any of his other known compositions, while “Craig” (presumably misspelled on my Salabert disc as “Graig”) might be the Edward F. Craig who collaborated with Lax on one other song.2

The only recording, then, of “Slow Music,” was made at an unusual Rhythmic Eight session where Maurice Elwin, at that time the band’s go-to singer, was joined in a vocal trio by saxophonist Arthur Lally and reed player Johnny Helfer. The three work well together, though the difference in singing experience is apparent. Elwin’s voice is readily identifiable throughout. In “Slow Music,” I was surprised not to be able to detect the familiar idiosyncrasies of Arthur Lally’s voice (which can be heard speaking and occasionally singing on quite a few British dance band records — perhaps best in the Million-Airs’ “Just a Crazy Song”), but the final song recorded at the October 17, 1928 session, “This Is the Way the Puff-Puff Goes,” features only Helfer and Lally doing distinct vocal parts, and there Lally is definitely recognizable.

The Rhythmic Eight’s “Slow Music” features a mesmerizing arrangement, and the vocal harmony evokes a moody atmosphere. It is funny to note that this, the only known treatment of the song, is not particularly slow — a detail which may be due entirely to the judgment of director John Firman.

The recording serves as a reminder that Elwin was a singer who frequently collaborated in duets, trios, and even quartets (as with the Ramblers). I never seem to have difficulty detecting his voice in a group, but that is not to say that he dominates the overall sound unduly or fails to blend with his collaborators. Rather, I would say that he possessed certain vocal strengths that stand out in almost any context. The Rhythmic Eight themselves definitely stand out as a virtuoso group on this occasion, as always, with Sylvester Ahola’s trumpet performance being particularly noteworthy.

  1. Portland [Maine, USA] Evening Express, “Arnold T. Lax is Second Berlin As Composer of Song,” December 15, 1926, newspapers.com. ↩︎
  2. “’Mid Roses Twining.” ↩︎
Bert and John Firman

“Sweetheart’s Holiday” (1930)

“Sweetheart’s Holiday.” Music by J. Russel Robinson, words by Irving Kahal. Recorded in Studio A, Hayes, Middlesex on January 24, 1930 by the Rhythmic Eight under the musical direction of John Firman with vocalist Maurice Elwin. Zonophone 5559 mx. Yy-18307-3.

Personnel: John Firman dir. Sylvester Ahola-t / Danny Polo-cl-as-bar / ?E. O. Pogson-cl-as / Johnny Helfer-cl-ts / Bert Read-p / Joe Brannelly-bj / Billy Bell-bb / Rudy Starita-d-vib-x / Maurice Elwin-v

The Rhythmic Eight (v. Maurice Elwin) – “Sweetheart’s Holiday”

“Sweetheart’s Holiday”1 was composed by J. Russel Robinson (who had been a member of the Original Dixieland Jazz Band and who had written “Singin’ the Blues”), with words by Irving Kahal (who would, the next year, write the words for the hits “You Brought a New Kind of Love to Me” and “By a Waterfall”). The incredibly catchy tune’s lyrics repeatedly reference an upcoming tryst (a “sweetheart’s holiday”) with a “steady” (slang for boyfriend or girlfriend); personified aspects of nature (the moon and the birds, for example) are described as taking part in the preparations for lovers’ rendezvous.

In the peppy Rhythmic Eight version of “Sweetheart’s Holiday,” the individual virtuosity of the players is very much in evidence. Particularly memorable is a segment where Bert Read achieves a ragtime piano sound, accompanied by Rudy Starita on the drums (the cymbals would appear to be rather near the microphone2). The latter’s playing approximates the sound of tap-dancing feet.

Maurice Elwin’s vocal refrain is upbeat and does credit to the song’s admirable wordplay. It is a comparatively short vocal interlude but memorable, nonetheless. I first heard this song in the Tom Clines version, where Jack Carney provides elegant but somewhat awkward and mannered vocals. Elwin, by comparison, sounds natural and youthfully enthusiastic. The overall effect is perhaps most comparable to Elwin’s vocal chorus in the Rhythm Maniacs version of “She’s My Slip of a Girl” (recorded only a week after “Sweetheart’s Holiday”), where he also engages in a rapid-fire delivery of playful love lyrics.

“Sweetheart’s Holiday” was recorded in the United States in 1929 by Jerry Macy and Ed Smalle, The New Yorkers, Tom Clines and His Music (v. Jack Carney), Tom Gott and His Rose Room Orchestra (v. Scrappy Lambert), Ted Wallace and His Campus Boys (v. Smith Ballew), Walter Cummins, Henry Busse and His Orchestra (v. Richard Barry), Lee Morse, and Charles W. Hamp. It was also sung by Georgie Price in a Vitaphone short, Don’t Get Nervous.

It was recorded in Britain in 1929 by The Savoy Plaza Band (dir. Les. Norman/v. by unknown person) and by Bidgood’s Broadcasters (as Nat Lewis and His Dance Band/v. Tom Barratt).

“Sweetheart’s Holiday” (1929) Sheet Music
George van Dusen

“Yodel-O-Eskimo” (1931)

“Yodel-O-Eskimo.” Composed by Joe Pearson and Harry Stogden. Recorded c. February 2, 1931 by George van Dusen and Maurice Elwin. Parlophone R-1000 & Regal Zonophone MR-1906 mx. E-3912-1.

George van Dusen & Maurice Elwin – “Yodel-O-Eskimo” (1931)

When commemorating milestones in Maurice Elwin’s life and afterlife (today is his 127th birthday), I am always faced with a difficult choice. Should I share my thoughts on one of his many sublime dance band recordings? Should I surprise my readers with a lesser-known solo recording? Or should I share something considerably more outré that attests to his good sense of humor and his willingness to record virtually anything as long as it paid? Put that way, the latter choice seems obvious, so I will turn my attention to an instance of Elwin’s propping up a novelty yodeling act with the strength of his excellent singing.

Yodeling is a technique of alternating the voice between the natural and falsetto ranges to produce a warbling effect; it is found around the world, but in European contexts it is most often associated with Swiss cowherds and other such people. Originally a way of calling out to animals, yodeling does not usually involve conventional language, but rather comparatively nonsensical vocalizations. I like to think of it as “Alpine scat.” For Anglophone audiences, yodeling may be generally considered an acquired taste, but it does appear to have been somewhat in vogue in the early 1930s. Perhaps the popularity of Jimmie Rodgers’s cowboy yodeling from the late 1920s onward had opened people’s minds to the art form’s potential.

Thomas Harrington (1905-1992) spent more than half a century sharing his love of Alpine yodeling with the British public,1 starting his music hall career in 1921 at the age of 16. He always worked under pseudonyms, the most common of which was the one used on “Yodel-O-Eskimo”: George van Dusen, the Great Dutch Yodler. He recorded quite a few records, and there are nine known sides where he is joined by Maurice Elwin, whose singing voice van Dusen acknowledged to be stronger than his own.2 On this particular record, Elwin does all of the singing, and van Dusen only provides the yodeling. The usual rule seems to have been for van Dusen alone to be acknowledged on the label; only on Parlophone R-1080 is Elwin credited (as John Curtis, his usual Parlophone pseudonym).

van Dusen seems to have populated the record catalogues with various attempts at driving home the universal appeal of yodeling. He recorded “The Yiddisher Yodeller,” “The Yodelling Chinaman,”3 “The Yodelling Bullfighter” — the list goes on. “Yodel-O-Eskimo” presents us with the story of Ice Pack Joe, an indigenous Arctic person who hears yodeling over the radio and is inspired to imitate it. The concept of the song is ridiculously simple, and there is little attempt at understanding or even stereotyping Northern peoples; the lyrics mostly just reiterate how cold it is where they live. van Dusen even recorded a follow-up to “Yodel-O-Eskimo,” “The Wedding of Eskimo Joe” (without Elwin). The silliness of the underlying concepts for these songs is apparent: van Dusen just wants an excuse to yodel, so he is not bothered by the complexity of an Englishman (Thomas Harrington) pretending to be a Dutchman (George van Dusen) pretending to be an Inuit (Ice Pack Joe) pretending to be a Swiss yodeler.

What makes this record worth having, though, is Maurice Elwin’s wonderfully mock-sincere delivery of the lyrics. The contrast between his careful diction and van Dusen’s awkward vocalizations is simply hilarious. It is hard to imagine Elwin keeping a straight face during the recording; it is easy to imagine him smiling all the way to the bank, though. “Yodel-O-Eskimo” is just one extreme example of how he was admirably willing to lend a hand in the production of music of all genres.

  1. Rick Hardy and Arthur Badrock. “George van Dusen: A Life by Rick Hardy; A Discography by Arthur Badrock.” Talking Machine Review 86 (Spring 1994): 2502-2505. ↩︎
  2. Ibid., 2504. ↩︎
  3. Apologies for the dated and now offensive exonym; for that matter, I understand that “Eskimo” is now frowned upon, as well. ↩︎