Frank P. Banta's death date is approaching, which is always a depressing time for me. I can barely express the words for how wonderful Banta was as a pianist, and how innocent and introverted the recording stars described him to be. The amount of praise Banta received from his studio fellows is quite outstanding. There are so few of those studio pianists mentioned in any context, but the only one that seemed immortal through recollection was Banta.
That sweet smile is always heartwarming.
Recently while digging around in period sources on the recording business, I finally found a better version of that Edison studio picture that was used in Edison catalogs years after Banta died:
Where do I begin with him?
The praises that Dan W. Quinn spoke of Banta are quite an interesting read. Quinn praised Banta so highly for his unequalled ability to play anything by ear, and that Quinn would rather have Banta play at all his gigs and recording sessions. Quinn enjoyed Mr. Banta's company so much in fact, that he named his youngest child after Banta. According to the Quinn family, Dan passed down many stories that included Banta's presence and name. Clearly Quinn had quite a high respect for his pianist Mr. Banta. Compare that to the non-existent accounts of his time working with Fred Hylands at Columbia. Despite those not being written down, we know they happened.
With Banta, it wasn't just Quinn who sung out his praises, it was also all the others at Edison, in more subtle ways however. Frank Stanley took the "Frank" in his studio name from that Mr. Banta. From written ledgers that survive from Edison, we know that Stanley worked very often with Banta. In fact, some of the most beautiful records Banta was on were recorded with Stanley, at least as far as I've heard. It's hard to beat these two gems:
That second one is particularly gorgeous, for a different reason then the first one.
One thing that's very curious about Banta, in considering the other studio pianists, is the amount of his music that was recorded over time. It can be argued that he in fact wrote the most popular song of the brown wax era, and that's "the Laughing song". Of course he was not the origin of the song, that was George W. Johnson, but Banta deserves the credit for writing the song down on paper, and helping promote it to phonographers all over. Of course Banta remained modest about the overwhelming success with "the Laughing Song", as he remained respectful to Johnson's ownership of the tune. His name may have been on it, but he kept all the success in the studios solely, with the satisfaction of making Fred Hylands read his arrangement, and eventually butcher it for an old Cincinnati jig. Hylands may have had the publishing firm with Len Spencer, but Banta had the keys to the most popular and profitable song of the brown wax era. Other than "the laughing song", Banta's other pieces remained in the standard studio repertoire until as late as 1906. His earliest songs in the mid-1890's(after "the laughing song"), were likely recorded by Quinn and other popular singers of the mid-90's. His 1897 piece "The Chaser" was taken and kept for almost a decade by Fred Hager, as he recorded it with his orchestra in 1905.
I have that very record to share here:
Even with all the very typical aspects to this march, I can still hear the characteristics that make it a Banta piece. Over the years I've studied his playing, it seems to have been more eccentric and self-taught than someone even as folksy as Hylands. Hylands had a distinct regional style, but Banta had his own mix of everything to create his style. Oddly enough, I would say that Banta's style was more closely related to Arthur Pryor's style than to Hylands'. There are a few reasons that I say that, the first being that the two were obviously close friends, recording two famous(or infamous rather) piano solos on the same day at Victor in 1900.
You can view the ledgers here:
There they are, the pair of pianists at Victor in 1900.
That's quite a pair! Not often would we associate a prominent figure as Arthur Pryor with such lost figures as the earliest studio pianists. I would guess that the reason the two were so well acquainted would stem back to their days at Berliner. Banta was working for Berliner as early as 1897, as was Pryor, and the few solos that Pryor made for them in that year almost certainly have Banta's accompaniment. Such as this one here:
It seems perfectly in line to see those two rag-timers enjoying each other's company.
Of course now that I have become well founded in the idea that all these band men knew each other, it seems almost certain they were constantly sharing each other's arrangements. Imagine it, Arthur Pryor, Hager, and Banta going out for a drink after the studio day, going to gossip about all the recording banter from the day.
So...another piece of Banta's that was recorded many years after it was written was his "Ragged William". As late as 1905 that piece was recorded by studio orchestras, in that year, the Regimental Band of the Republic revived the old Banta piece on the American label.
Of course, this piece was recorded many times in 1899-1901 by Banta's own orchestra, the Metropolitan and Peerless orchestras. This oddity of a rag was rather popular with the studio groups, as I'm sure one of Hager's Zon-O-Phone ensembles recorded the piece in 1900 or 1901. I searched around for other versions of the piece and it seems that the tune was listed in the Leeds catalog around 1900. But of course it doesn't really come as a surprise that studio pianists' piece were recorded, as they had the best chances of getting anything they wrote recorded than anyone else. Banta's were just a bit more interesting and attractive to more than his own orchestra, compare that to Hylands' "The Darkey Volunteer".
Banta's 1901 piece "Halimar" was also recorded. This particular piece had been a source of great interest for me, since I had wondered about it for so many years, with that oriental rondo subtitle to tantalize me, until I finally got a curious recording of it.
By Hager's orchestra.
The moment I saw that on Ebay I knew I had to snag it. Turns out this piece did not disappoint, it was definitely worth all the anticipation. Anyhow, you can hear my mediocre transfer here:
It's quite an interesting piece. So far, this piece presents all of Banta's self-taught eccentricities in composing and piano style. But of course the added bonus with this record is that it's my very favorite group playing it! To add some humor in this, I drew a cartoon with Pryor making a kind comment to Banta regarding this very record, with Hager himself well involved in dancing to the tune:
It's fun to imagine those three having so much fun together.
It's clear that all those studio boys respected Banta to highly, and for good reason. He naturally had abilities that surpassed that of such musicians as Pryor and Hager. He must have also had a very rousing sense of humor, as well as an attractive demeanor, as he was quoted in 1892 saying thus:
"Oh that doesn't matter...just hum it over once and I'll catch it."
The only other early recording star who was documented of having that freakish ability was Silas Leachman. That must be why Leachman and Banta's records sounded so damn good. Also, i have come to believe that Banta was on some of the best of Leachman's Victors, such as these two:
I firmly believe that Leachman's hottest Victors are so hot because of Banta's accompaniment. A long while ago I did a post regarding the frustration of Leachman's Victors in terms of piano accompaniment, but now I can pretty surely say that Hylands never accompanied Leachman on Victor, and with those records it's either Banta or Chris Booth. The more wild and ragged of Leachman's Victors likely have the Banta accompaniment. Now that I have become very used to hearing Banta's style on records, I have a very solid sense of what he tended to play overall, little eccentricities and characteristics. The most curious aspects to his playing that really don't make the most sense to me, in thinking of his musical region of origin, are the drone note and the rollicking/walking bass(you can hear a great example on this Leachman Victor here). Banta basically had all the aspects to his style of a rural pianist from way out west in Kansas, extra beats and measures included, but he was from New York.
Where did he pick these up?
I have wondered that often when I hear records like this with Banta's accompaniment:
Clearly Banta had heard some things that he wasn't supposed to(as a respectable pianist). Isn't that how all these rough pianists got better? Indeed so. He had an ear that could pick up anything, so who knows where he would have gotten the ideas going through his mind at that moment on that record above. A similar record you can hear below:
In case you are wondering why that recording of "The Weddin O'er the Hill" is so significant, listen to this piece of serious folk rag-time, it's quite similar:
Both of these pieces by the famous Missouri wonder Blind Boone sound remarkably similar to some of the things I've heard Banta play on many records. Just one example, that bass note pattern at 1:23-1:24 is actually in his "Halimar". There are plenty more things that you can listen to on your own to pick out. Keep in mind that Boone didn't put together this piece of reminiscence(remembering music of the 1870's or so) until 1912.
Anyway...
I will wear all black this Friday in honor of the sweet and gentle soul that was Frank P. Banta. His tragic life will remain immortal thanks to those who spoke of him so highly.
We still hear you Mr. Banta.
We still hear you Mr. Banta.
Well then!
In the last two days, I have been playing around with listening to some of my brown waxes, and others that are scattered online. A long while ago I did a post regarding the slow speed effect, of which I am still a very fond supporter. Awhile ago I acquired a very curious 1898 Columbia brown wax cylinder. My first brown wax cylinder was George P. Watson singing "Emmett's Lullaby" from 1898, but it is most certainly the most unusual take I've ever heard of it, but not for reasons these odd takes typically are. This particular take has a playing speed of just under 100 rpm.
What?
Yes! You hear me right! Under 100 rpm. The oddly slow speed of this record creates some frustrating issues when playing it, of course. The grooves are very shallow, the speed fluctuates quite a lot, and the recording itself is rather quiet. It's worth the frustration because this record is definitely exceptional, the sound quality is very nice and clear, with loud and bass heavy piano accompaniment(by Hylands!). So here's where the slow speed idea comes into play, this record was made at a very slow speed, and I am fairly certain that this odd speed is correct for this particular record. Any slower it sounded unnatural, and any faster it sounded quick and low quality.
So here's the thing about this...I have come to believe(after many discussions with collectors) that records from this era are supposed to sound slow to our modern ears, but these records can only sound as beautiful and clear as they truly were a bit slower than we'd usually think to play them. I believe in the quality of records from this time being great, I am a firm believer in the superiority of brown wax(as did Russell Hunting), and that acoustic recordings sounded better than most people would expect. An oddly good example of this contrast of too fast can be heard on this 1891 Issler accompaniment record:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=u-wI7RWfcb8
The speed fluctuates so much on this record that we can actually hear the difference between too fast and just right speed. When the record is slower(at the right speed) in the key of F, it sounds much fuller and well recorded, but when it speeds up, it sounds very low quality and the piano sounds distant.
It's quite interesting how this turns out. If you listen to the record closely, you can tell that the record itself is already transferred very slow.
So most scholarly record collectors know that these records are to be played much slower than 78, but often the speed of cylinders are all over the place. Just consider what I said about that Watson brown wax.
So with that in mind, I played my two William Tuson brown waxes slow. How they sounded so much better. The two Tuson clarinet solos I have are "Old Black Joe" and "Southern Plantation Echoes". Tuson's solo of "old Black Joe" sounded beautiful in A flat, it sounded slow and pretty at the straight section, and rather jumpy and folksy at the variations section. The piano accompaniment came through very well when I played it slow, every note came through, and I could even go to the piano and figure out the exact inversions of chords Hylands was playing.
If you've got some records at home you're curious about, do try playing them a bit slower than you'd think to, it'll create quite a difference in quality!
Anyhow, I don't need to go on about this slow speed matter, it pretty much explains itself.
Before I close out, I'd like to share one of my favorite Leachman and Banta records, to further honor Mr. Banta for this Friday:
https://adp.library.ucsb.edu/index.php/matrix/detail/100002499/Pre-matrix_B-3356-Mr._Johnson_dont_get_gay
So here's the thing about this...I have come to believe(after many discussions with collectors) that records from this era are supposed to sound slow to our modern ears, but these records can only sound as beautiful and clear as they truly were a bit slower than we'd usually think to play them. I believe in the quality of records from this time being great, I am a firm believer in the superiority of brown wax(as did Russell Hunting), and that acoustic recordings sounded better than most people would expect. An oddly good example of this contrast of too fast can be heard on this 1891 Issler accompaniment record:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=u-wI7RWfcb8
The speed fluctuates so much on this record that we can actually hear the difference between too fast and just right speed. When the record is slower(at the right speed) in the key of F, it sounds much fuller and well recorded, but when it speeds up, it sounds very low quality and the piano sounds distant.
It's quite interesting how this turns out. If you listen to the record closely, you can tell that the record itself is already transferred very slow.
So most scholarly record collectors know that these records are to be played much slower than 78, but often the speed of cylinders are all over the place. Just consider what I said about that Watson brown wax.
So with that in mind, I played my two William Tuson brown waxes slow. How they sounded so much better. The two Tuson clarinet solos I have are "Old Black Joe" and "Southern Plantation Echoes". Tuson's solo of "old Black Joe" sounded beautiful in A flat, it sounded slow and pretty at the straight section, and rather jumpy and folksy at the variations section. The piano accompaniment came through very well when I played it slow, every note came through, and I could even go to the piano and figure out the exact inversions of chords Hylands was playing.
If you've got some records at home you're curious about, do try playing them a bit slower than you'd think to, it'll create quite a difference in quality!
Anyhow, I don't need to go on about this slow speed matter, it pretty much explains itself.
Before I close out, I'd like to share one of my favorite Leachman and Banta records, to further honor Mr. Banta for this Friday:
https://adp.library.ucsb.edu/index.php/matrix/detail/100002499/Pre-matrix_B-3356-Mr._Johnson_dont_get_gay
Hope you are all having a good holiday season so far!
