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Bert and John Firman

“Sweet and Lovely” (1931)

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“Sweet and Lovely.” Words and music by Gus Arnheim, Harry Tobias, and Charles N. Daniels (using the pseudonym Jules Lemare; 1931). Recorded in the Kingsway Hall, London c. October 23, 1931 by the Orpheus Dance Band (under the musical direction of John Firman) with vocalist Maurice Elwin. Zonophone 5987 mx. 0Y-1506-2.

Personnel: John Firman dir. Max Goldberg-t / cl-as / cl-as-bar / cl-ts / ?Bert Read-p-cel / pac / Joe Brannelly-bj-g / Billy Bell-bb / Rudy Starita-d-vib-x / Charles W. Saxby-or / Maurice Elwin-v

Orpheus Dance Band (v. Maurice Elwin) – “Sweet and Lovely” (1931)

I have yet to find a version of “Sweet and Lovely” that I do not like. A creation of lyricist Harry Tobias, composer-lyricist Charles N. Daniels, and California-based bandleader Gus Arnheim, 1 the song was surprisingly effective at using its unusual melody to elevate romantic attraction to the spiritual plane. It became Arnheim’s signature tune, but the Orpheus Dance Band’s version with Maurice Elwin stands out as something special.

John Firman’s Zonophone house band used the pseudonym “The Orpheus Dance Band” when it recorded in the Kingsway Hall with Charles W. Saxby on the organ (the name “The Arcadians Dance Orchestra” had been used for that purpose up until 1930). In “Sweet and Lovely,” the organ and Billy Bell’s tuba establish a mellow pulsation for the other instruments to play off of. The effect is decidedly hypnotic; it establishes a sort of dream state for Maurice Elwin’s vocals to emerge from.

On this website I say a lot about Elwin’s precision as a singer and about how funny he can be, but “Sweet and Lovely” gives us an example of his being incredibly tender. He is operating at the higher end of his baritone range, which makes him sound more emotionally vulnerable, and he moves through the vocal chorus just quickly enough to give the impression that he is being carried away — transported — by his own argument. I come away from listening to this recording feeling younger and less jaded, convinced of the higher potential of romantic love.

Some representative American recordings of “Sweet and Lovely” made in 1931 are those by Gus Arnheim and His Cocoanut Grove Orchestra (v. Donald Novis), Ben Selvin (as Phil Hughes and His High Hatters; v. Jack Miller), Bing Crosby (whose version includes the intro that would have been in the sheet music but that was dropped in band arrangements), and Ed Kirkeby (as Bud Leonard; v. Elmer Feldkamp).

Other British dance band recordings were made in 1931 by Roy Fox and His Band (v. Al Bowlly), Dave Frost and His Band (v. Sam Browne), Jerry Hoey and His Band (v. Les Allen and two unknown singers), The Savoy Hotel Orpheans (dir. Howard Jacobs; v. Al Bowlly), Percival Mackey and His Kit-Cat Band (v. Phyllis Robins), Eddie Grossbart and His Café de Paris Band (unknown vocalist — Pathé footage survives of Grossbart’s band performing “Sweet and Lovely” in the Café de Paris itself), Jack Harris and His Grosvenor House Band (v. Harry Bentley), Ambrose and His Orchestra (v. Sam Browne), Jack Payne and His Band, and Jack Hylton and His Orchestra (v. Pat O’Malley, in a 12″ concert arrangement). Jay Wilbur recorded three different versions in November and December 1931: one as Jay Wilbur and His Band (with an unknown vocalist), and two as the Biltmore Players (one with Sam Browne and one with Les Allen).

Notes:

  1. It is possible that Arnheim’s contributions were minimal, but he did have past experience with songwriting. ↩
Percival Mackey

“I Have No Words” (1930)

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“I Have No Words.” Composed by W. Desmond Carter (words) and Arthur Schwartz (music) for the London stage musical Little Tommy Tucker (1930). Recorded in London on October 23, 1930 by Percival Mackey and His Band with vocalist Maurice Elwin. Columbia CB-168 mx. WA-10819-2.

Personnel: Percival Mackey dir. Jack Jackson-Andy Richardson-t / Ben Oakley-tb / Chester Smith-another?-cl-as / George Smith-ts / Dave Fish-vn / Pat Dodd-p / Bob Martin-bj-g / Jim Bellamy-bb-sb / Bill Harty-d / Maurice Elwin-v

Percival Mackey and His Band – “I Have No Words” (1930)
(Transfer by Henry Parsons)

Percival Mackey’s “I Have No Words,” like its reverse side (“Let’s Be Sentimental”), derives from the London stage show Little Tommy Tucker, a comedy of errors that was not particularly successful. The song did not make it into the movie version (Out of the Blue), so I have no way of telling which character sang it or what the context was, but no matter. “I Have No Words” is a musically compelling love song with light, witty lyrics by Desmond Carter that have been called “nonchalantly sophisticated” and “flippantly unsentimental.” 1

Percival Mackey’s version of the song has a very stylish arrangement, quick and upbeat. Maurice Elwin delivers the vocal refrain in a somewhat deadpan way, as if not in on the fact that the lyrics are incredibly silly. As in so many other comical vocals, Elwin plays the straight man; his seriousness or earnestness is the source of the humor. There is, perhaps, also a level on which Elwin’s smooth, sweet delivery rescues the lyric from being merely comical. I do not think that would have been possible if other excerpts from the original lyrics had been included:

I would beg for you,
Break a leg for you,
Lay an egg for you... 2

As usual, producing a first-rate recording of this sort is the work not only of a band and its vocalist but of the arranger, who, among other things, decides which short excerpt from a song to use as the vocal refrain.

The other British dance band treatments of “I Have No Words” occur only in medleys. The New Mayfair Dance Orchestra had recorded a purely instrumental medley (it literally had no words) three days before the Percival Mackey recording. On November 1, The Million-Airs (under Arthur Lally’s direction) would release one that had Maurice Elwin once again singing a snippet of “I Have No Words.”

While there are very few recordings, then, of “I Have No Words” per se, there are many of its basic melody. Immediately after working with Desmond Carter to set the lyrics of “I Have No Words” to music, composer Arthur Schwartz would turn to Howard Dietz to write new lyrics, producing the song “Something to Remember You By,” which was introduced on Broadway by Libby Holman in Three’s a Crowd (1930). Both Holman and Helen Morgan committed memorable versions of the song to shellac that year, and it has continued to be recorded every few years since and been featured in many movies.

It is interesting to note that “I Have No Words” had little staying power, while “Something to Remember You By” — fundamentally the same tune — has been so favored by musicians and audiences over the course of nearly a century. Composer and musicologist Alec Wilder was unaware of the melody’s origin in Little Tommy Tucker but had heard what he thought was an “unsubstantiated story” that an original version of “Something to Remember You By” had been sung “at least twice as fast as its later version.” 3 Wilder praised the decision to slow it down as having been “fortunate for all lovers of good song.” 4

This is a rare case where I cannot agree with Wilder or, apparently, popular taste. To me, the slow pace of “Something to Remember You By” makes it treacly, and its lyrics seem hackneyed. Percival Mackey’s “I Have No Words” with its Maurice Elwin vocal will always stand out as an excellent example of how the original concept could be executed successfully.

Notes:

  1. Philip Furia, The Poets of Tin Pan Alley: A History of America’s Great Lyricists. New York: Oxford University Press. ↩
  2. Ibid. ↩
  3. Alec Wilder. American Popular Song: The Great Innovators (1900-1950). Kindle location 4031. ↩
  4. Ibid., Kindle location 4035. ↩
Percival Mackey

“Let’s Be Sentimental” (1930)

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“Let’s Be Sentimental.” Lyrics by Desmond Carter, music by Vivian Ellis (1930). Recorded in London on October 23, 1930 by Percival Mackey and His Band with vocalist Maurice Elwin. Columbia CB-168 mx. WA-10818-2.

Personnel: Percival Mackey dir. Jack Jackson-Andy Richardson-t / Ben Oakley-tb / Chester Smith-another?-cl-as / George Smith-ts / Dave Fish-vn / Pat Dodd-p / Bob Martin-bj-g / Jim Bellamy-bb-sb / Billy Harty-d / Maurice Elwin-v

Percival Mackey and His Band – “Let’s Be Sentimental” (1930)
(Transfer by Henry Parsons)

“Let’s Be Sentimental” is, like many British dance band tunes, a delightful by-product of a not very successful London show. Little Tommy Tucker is the story of one Thomasina (“Tommy”) Tucker, the daughter of an impoverished baronet, who has to — you guessed it — “sing for her supper.” The man she has fallen in love with is betrothed to her sister. He does not love the sister, but his best friend does. Trying to get away from it all, Tommy ends up in Biarritz, impersonating a singer who has herself been pretending to be an exiled Russian princess. This is a comedy of errors reminiscent of the P. G. Wodehouse Blandings novels, insofar as several of the characters are always confused as to the others’ identities.

Little Tommy Tucker toured for six weeks, was partially recast and rewritten, and then lasted only two and a half months on the London stage. 1 In spite of this lackluster performance, Pathé would release a film version the next year, although it used only two of the songs and renamed it Out of the Blue, after one of the songs. “Let’s Be Sentimental” is the other, and it is sung by Gene Gerard and Jessie Matthews.

The lyrics concern the supposed necessity of going through commonplace romantic gestures if romance is to succeed. There is some clever wordplay, but it is the tune that is truly daring. In each verse the melody gradually rises, then falls a fifth abruptly, rises a fifth, falls a fifth, and then rises and falls a third time. That pattern is likely to throw off a less than competent singer, and even then, there is the risk of sounding like a police siren. Composer Vivian Ellis must have liked the effect, as he used a toned-down version of it in “I’m on a See-Saw” in Jill Darling (1934). 2

Percival Mackey must have felt bullish about Maurice Elwin, as it is the latter who introduces the unusual melody, and not the instrumentalists. By contrast, in the Jack Hylton version of “Let’s Be Sentimental,” first-rate vocalist Pat O’Malley comes in comparatively late in the recording. 3 It is my overall impression that Elwin leads with the vocals somewhat more often than other singers — I shall have to substantiate that claim over time — and I suspect that, if I am right, it is because he is reliably interesting without upstaging the band. There is little risk of doing that here, though: Percival Mackey’s band is at its most elegant in this piece, successfully executing the clever arrangement that puts foregrounded saxophones and violins in antiphonal conversation with muted brass. 4

Notes:

  1. London Musicals (1930-1934). Over the Footlights. ↩
  2. My thanks to Julian Dyer for pointing out the resemblance. ↩
  3. The third British dance band appearance of “Let’s Be Sentimental” is in a New Mayfair Dance Orchestra medley, which may be heard on John Wright’s British Dance Band Show No. 274. ↩
  4. My thanks to Terry Brown and Henry Parsons for their comments on the arrangement. ↩
Bert and John Firman

“How’s Your Uncle?” (1931)

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“How’s Your Uncle?” Lyrics by Dorothy Fields, music by Jimmy McHugh; composed for Shoot the Works (1931). Recorded in the Kingsway Hall, London c. October 23, 1931 by the Orpheus Dance Band under the musical direction of John Firman with vocalist Maurice Elwin. Zonophone 5987.

Personnel: John Firman dir. Max Goldberg-t / cl-as / cl-as-bar / cl-ts / ?Bert Read-p-cel / pac / Joe Brannelly-bj-g / Billy Bell-bb / Rudy Starita-vib-x / Maurice Elwin-v / Charles Saxby-or

Orpheus Dance Band – “How’s Your Uncle?” (1931) (Andy LeMaitre)

“How’s Your Uncle?” is a song deriving from the 1931 American revue Shoot the Works! (a slang expression referring to placing all of one’s money on a single bet). The show had been arranged as a way of providing temporary work for actors unemployed due to the Great Depression. The illustrious contributors to the revue (including “How’s Your Uncle?” songwriters Dorothy Fields and Jimmy McHugh) did not charge royalties for their work; instead, as much money as possible went to the cast.

Now, a revue involves singing, dancing, and sketch comedy, and the individual acts are held together by minimal, flimsy, or even no unifying narrative; the audience, including the reviewers, would not have expected much of a plot. In spite of those low expectations, apparently Shoot the Works! still lacked something important. New Yorker reviewer S. Finney wrote that it “had been put together with string,” and in spite of constant rewriting, it closed after only nine weeks. 1

Fortunately, the failure of a revue does not vitiate its constituent parts, and “How’s Your Uncle?” saw great success with recording artists. The song’s lyrics consist of the sort of small talk (e.g. “How’s your uncle? How’s your auntie?”) that might lead up to a more important question (“And incidentally, baby, how are you?”). The questions about the more pedestrian aspects of life always precede the theme of love:

How's the cooking
And the washing
And the plumbing coming along?
Is the coffee
That you're making
Just as strong as your love for me?

The sing-song tune is catchy and perfectly suited to up-beat dance band arrangements.

The arrangement used by the Zonophone house orchestra, the Orpheus Dance Band, is particularly delightful, especially considering the interplay between the band and the organ played by Charles W. Saxby. There is also a wonderful sense of space in this recording. The echo that can be heard in Zonophone recordings made in Kingsway Hall is the polar opposite of the acoustically dead studios used by Decca in its otherwise excellent early recordings.

Maurice Elwin had been the Zonophone bands’ main vocalist since late 1927, so we should not be surprised to find him singing the refrain in “How’s Your Uncle?” He does seem perfectly suited for this song about the pedestrian sort of banter that people bury their real feelings in. Elwin’s approach to interpreting lyrics is famously understated, so to the extent that the song is a joke, Elwin could be said to be delivering it deadpan. He does alter his tone slightly when alluding to his love for the song’s addressee (and while asking after “the brother [he] could smother”), but for the most part he sounds like any one of us does when beating around the bush. The vocal refrain is subtly comical and contributes to the success of the whole recording.

Some American versions of “How’s Your Uncle” that were recorded while Shoot the Works! was still on stage were those of the Jesse Stafford Orchestra (v. Paul Small), the Troubadours (directed by Nat Shilkret, with vocalist Chick Bullock), and Fred “Sugar” Hall and His Sugar Babies (v. Arthur Fields).

Other British dance bands who recorded “How’s Your Uncle” in 1931 were Nat Star and His Dance Orchestra (v. Cavan O’Connor), Jerry Hoey and His Band (v. Les Allen and unknown person), Ambrose and His Orchestra (v. Sam Browne), the Filmophone House Band (v. Sam Browne), and Bidgood’s Good Boys (v. Tom Barratt).

Notes:

  1. Dan Dietz, The Complete Book of 1930s Broadway Musicals, Washington, DC: Rowman & Littlefield, 2018, 138-140. ↩
Bert and John Firman

“Short an’ Sweet” (1927)

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“Short an’ Sweet.” Words by Billy Tracey and Sam Ehrlich, music by Dan Dougherty (1926). Recorded in Studio B, Hayes, Middlesex on October 20, 1927 by the Devonshire Restaurant Dance Band under the musical direction of Bert Firman with vocalist Maurice Elwin. Zonophone 5033.

Personnel: Bert Firman-vn dir. Frank Guarente-another-t / ?Ben Oakley-tb / ?Arthur Lally-cl-as-bar / as / ?Bill Barton-ts / John Firman-p-cel / Jack Simmons-bj / ?Billy Bell-bb / Jack Trebble-d / Maurice Elwin-v

The Devonshire Restaurant Dance Band (dir. Bert Firman; v. Maurice Elwin)
“Short an’ Sweet” (1927)
(Transfer by John Wright)

In the Devonshire Restaurant Dance Band version of “Short an’ Sweet,” Maurice Elwin gushes about a diminutive woman that he is in love with. The lyrics themselves are about as cute as their “eeny-meeny-teeny-weeny” subject, and Elwin effervesces with enthusiasm that almost seems to give rise to the hot instrumental segment. I was happy to see that Rust lists this song not only in his dance band discography, but also in his jazz book. 1

Near the end of the song, Elwin returns abruptly to reveal something more about his motivation in pursuing his love interest:

Lovely ma,
Wealthy pa,
Bank account and a great big car,
She's as sweet as she can be.

It turns out that the little lady is wealthy. Elwin rattles off these lines quickly and does not sing the rest of the verse, highlighting the joke.

“Short an’ Sweet” is thus a predecessor to the Coon-Sanders song “Got a Great Big Date with a Little Bitta Girl” (1929), in which Joe Sanders expresses excitement about a “little bitty 2 girl,” only to reveal that he finds her ugly — but she is rich. At least “Short an’ Sweet” has Elwin merely expressing two different reasons to be attracted to a woman. The song is funny, and Elwin’s vocals complement the band nicely.

I am so used to seeing a bewildering number of band names attached to what appears to have been one Zonophone studio band directed at various times by Bert or John Firman that I had written off the individual band names as mere marketing gimmicks, but it turns out that in 1926-1927, Bert Firman really did direct music at the Devonshire Restaurant in Piccadilly (and so presumably had acquired the legal right to use its name commercially). 3 It would appear that the restaurant band’s personnel overlapped quite a bit with the studio personnel in this recording. 4

The only other version I could find of “Short an’ Sweet” was one by American Jay C. Flippen and His Gang. The composer, Dan Dougherty, would go on to write the music for the song “Moanin’ for You” (1929).

Notes:

  1. Brian Rust and Sandy Forbes, British Dance Bands on Record, 1911 to 1945, and Supplement, Bungay, Suffolk: Richard Clay, Ltd., 1989, 230; Brian Rust, Jazz and Ragtime Records 1897-1942, Sixth Edition, Free Personal-Use Edition, Littleton, Colorado: Mainspring Press, 2016, 442, https://archive.org/details/rust_jazz-records_free-edition-6. ↩
  2. He never does say “bitta,” does he? And yet that is what is on the label. ↩
  3. John A. B. Wright. “Short ’n Sweet.” The British Dance Band Show 377 (May 25, 2018 – June 8, 2018). ↩
  4. Chris Hayes, Dance Band Diaries from the Melody Maker 2 (1927): 2. ↩
Arthur Lally

“Sitting on a Haystack” (1930)

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“Sitting on a Haystack.” Composed by Julian Wright, Carol Bourne, and Harry Castling. Recorded in Chelsea, London on November 13, 1930 by the Savana Players under the musical direction of Arthur Lally, with vocalist Maurice Elwin. Decca F-2057 mx. GB-2268-2.

Personnel: Arthur Lally-cl-as-bar dir. Jack Jackson-Andy Richardson-t / Ben Oakley-tb / Peter Rush-as-vn / Harry Berly-ts-oc-vl / Pat Dodd-p / Jack Hill-bj-g / Spike Hughes-sb / Bill Harty-d

The Savana Players (v. Maurice Elwin) – “Sitting on a Haystack” (1930)

The Savana Players’ version of “Sitting on a Haystack” with Maurice Elwin appears to be the only recording of that song. The original composition may not, therefore, have been a commercial success, but this Decca issue is a comedy gem and a good example of the hot music being produced under Arthur Lally’s supervision in 1930. The song begins with a curious snoring or even snorting sound and a small child crying, “Daddy, daddy!” At this point we hear Lally’s voice snarling, “That’s not your father, child — them’s pigs!” “Oooh!” the child exclaims. The grunting is incorporated into the first bars of the song, establishing its comical, rustic setting.

The tune is introduced first instrumentally. Then comes Maurice Elwin’s vocal refrain, which describes a haystack that once served as a trysting place until a pipe-smoking vagrant accidentally lit it on fire. Elwin sings the lyrics quietly, as if sharing a dirty joke, and one can hear his amusement at the ridiculous scenario.

After Elwin’s part concludes, there is a series of interesting, hot variations on the tune, played with a great deal of pep. In many ways, the pleasure of listening to “Sitting on a Haystack” derives from the contrast between the understated vocals and the more extroverted instrumental music. Elwin contributes to the overall sound of this recording without in any way dominating it; the result is a collaboration that is delightfully silly yet elegant.

Arthur Lally, musical director at Decca