Regarding Mr. Banta and slow speeds

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:

http://cylinders.library.ucsb.edu/search.php?queryType=@attr+1=1020&num=1&start=1&query=cylinder13658

https://archive.org/details/edgm-8310

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:

https://drive.google.com/file/d/1qQ8w12axwFMOo2_9wWiYvFwtg6QgvaPv/view

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:

https://adp.library.ucsb.edu/index.php/date/browse/1900-09-27

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: 

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1HmdepXpz00

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:

https://drive.google.com/file/d/1Wck5Wis5RK43-63FnqTCiNxXOsSw2-Ct/view?usp=sharing

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:

https://adp.library.ucsb.edu/index.php/matrix/detail/2000000582/Pre-matrix_B-1129-Quit_that_tickling_me

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7--truVAzLw

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:

http://cylinders.library.ucsb.edu/search.php?queryType=@attr+1=1020&num=1&start=1&query=cylinder17123

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:

https://archive.org/details/WantsmyChickensCollinsBantaHager1898

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:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ngLrZ63ZDfU

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. 

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

Hope you are all having a good holiday season so far! 

Charles Asbury and New Transfers

It seems Archeophone is back at it again, not like they aren't always. This next record that they're working on now is just phenomenal. I was looking around on Facebook this week, and came across a bit of samples for the new record that Archeophone is planning to release. This new record is only a two sided 45, but what's on it is tantalizing. For a while, I have highlighted the importance of Charles Asbury's records, or at least the one that is currently online. In terms of Rag-Time historians, his records are among the best case studies of the earliest examples. The one we've all heard online is his 1894 "Haul the Woodpile Down", and it never fails to amaze the Rag-Time historians. 

The only image I had seen of Asbury was a crude drawing from the December 1892 issue of The Phonogram. On that page, Asbury is surrounded by all the favorites, such as Len Spencer, Russell Hunting, John York AtLee, etc. It was surprising to actually see Asbury there in that bunch of recording stars, since we who know about him wouldn't think of associating him with them. 

Maybe we're mistaken by doing that? 

Here's that picture I'm talking about: 

It's pretty crude, and the quality of the scan isn't that great...

Now here's the thing about Asbury that's intriguing, there's nothing known about him! 

I remember years ago attempting to do some digging on Asbury, but was led nowhere. I did eventually find someone who had done thew same thing and assumed they had found him, a minstrel performer and banjoist born around 1852-53. The evidence and details were a but questionable, but it was and still is hopeful to see an interest in his mystery. The fact that his records are so good, and are such outstanding outliers to the other "coon song" singers, is what makes him attractive to record scholars. His records are nothing like the authentic rugged records of George W. Johnson, or the educated primitive nature of Len Spencer's(before 1897). Asbury's voice and banjo playing sound more like George W. Johnson than anyone else, but here's a thought...
Think of Silas Leachman: 

We are for certain that Leachman learnt all the music he recorded by ear, never from music. With Leachman we also get the benefit of his upbringing in Kentucky at a prime period of time, which is essential to his unique style. In keeping in mind Leachman's method of learning new music, we need to know what distinct characteristics to his singing and playing(of piano) would indicate this. 
It can be hard to tell whether someone learns music by ear, but being someone who does that myself, I can catch the signs. 
One important thing to notice is if the lyrics are switched around or are phrased differently from the written ones. This is why I almost always check to lyrics to certain songs to compare. This sort of thing is all over the place on Leachman's records, more particularly his brown wax records made at home. His records such as his 1895 or so recording of "old Uncle John" are perfect examples of how he switched around the lyric phrasing, even the time signature in the chorus. In the written music, the chorus is in 6/8, but on Leachman's take, the chorus is in 3/4. This sort of thing is a signature to leachman, even on many of his later Victors, all of these things are present here and there. But of course why am I saying this? We are certain that Leachman played by ear, it was written about in that long Chicago Tribune article from 1895 about him. In Leachman's case, we're just trying to make sure that the things correspond correctly to confirm it. 

What has all of this to do with Asbury?
Actually, quite a lot. 

After being able to hear a little more of Asbury this week, the ideas that I've formulated about Leachman have transferred to Asbury's style. The only reason I have any idea of this is because he had all the signs that would indicate learning by ear. Another important factor to this theory is the fact that the performer bring to the recording horn tunes that were never published, or cannot be traced historically. This is similar with Billy Golden and George W. Johnson. However, Johnson had the privilege of having Frank P. Banta to actually write down the songs that were his specialties, and arrange them exactly as Johnson performed them. 
Asbury was alone with his music, performing tunes that were rare even to the most popular recording stars. The very unpublished(or impossible to trace) tune of his I'm thinking of is "Haul the Woodpile Down". Wherever the tune came from, it's a very old, perhaps early American, song with elements similar to "Amazing Grace" and songs related.
Here's the record just to refresh the memory:
http://cylinders.library.ucsb.edu/search.php?queryType=@attr+1=1020&num=1&start=1&query=cylinder8103

 With this in mind, the sample of Asbury singing "New Coon in Town"(released by Archeophone this week) already exhibits these essential elements of ear learning. The chorus has mixed around phrases and added words, without the complicatedness of the original song published in Chicago in 1884. This was a popular song as the "coon song" era started to take shape, so it doesn't particularly come as a surprise that he recorded this tune. The way he plays the song is particularly interesting, since it's nothing like the way that all of us Ragtimers play it. One of my good friends listened to the bit of the "new Coon in Town", and immediately assumed it was a different tune with the same way, but that's not true. That is indeed the same tune that was often quoted, including in an article about George W. Johnson's domestic troubles:

Yep, those are the same lyrics, but switched around as expected. Just as Leachman was, Asbury also had all the aspects of a fully natural musician, with near perfect vocal pitch, and a very attractive style of banjo and singing. 
All of this makes Asbury more tantalizing for sure, though keep in mind that all of what I just said about him is just a theory, and none of it may be true. Hopefully there's at least a basic level of information on him in the notes that accompany the record Archeophone is putting out next month. 
I just can't wait! The samples are just unbelievable!



Now to move on from well hidden mystery. I said in the last post that I would do some more digging in Santa Barbara's new transfers, and in the past few weeks, that's exactly what I did. The excitement is never ending now that they're gradually putting up random brown wax transfers that have been sitting there on the website without any means of hearing them. Since there was so much to talk about on just a single Spencer record, there's actually more Spencer records put up since I dug deep into that c. 1895 record of "Mamie!...". Before I get into those Spencer records, I should most certainly dig into Hylands records solely. 
The amount of good Hylands examples has almost doubled on Santa Barbara's website, which is absolutely fantastic. There's one particular example that stands far better than the others, and it's this seemingly modest one:
http://cylinders.library.ucsb.edu/search.php?queryType=@attr+1=1020&num=1&start=1&query=cylinder14585
Never have I heard such mastery from Hylands. We can hear how well he had perfected the Banjo imitation style he supposedly played. What's genius about this particular take is that he's rarely playing the actual melody with Schweinfest, but he's playing accompanying melodic lines and quick banjo imitation patterns all over the piano. It's also rather shocking to note that the rather slow(but perfect for a cake-walk) tempo is kept constant throughout. This isn't often the case with early examples of authentic improvised Rag-Time. It's records like these where we are reminded why we love Hylands, and it's for that distinct and weird Rag style that is easy to pick out from the others. Of course, after hearing such recordings like this from 1899-1900, it makes me more anxious to hear this:

Such recordings as the subject matter here are good explanations for such compositions by Schweinfest of all people. 
Speaking of Roger Harding(the publisher of the Schweinfest piece), this reminds me of another new transfer that includes Harding. At last, there are a few different takes of "Little Alabama Coon" online. The more takes I've heard have been by Gaskin, which are the best ones, because of that horrid scream he does on each one. While the same little sketch is one every take, one thing can be assured always different, the end piano solo. This particular take is by the Greater New York Quartette, which included Steve Porter and Roger Harding on this record specifically. 
here's the record:
http://cylinders.library.ucsb.edu/search.php?queryType=@attr+1=1020&num=1&start=1&query=cylinder13403
To be honest, I only listened to this the first time because I knew there would be a dance part piano solo at the end. Supposedly Issler put together the arrangement that we hear Gaskin do, with the song and dance part and everything. That makes no different here however. That solo Hylands plays at the end is perfectly in his style. We even get the bonus of him playing those rare walking bass octaves, which is a distinct characteristic, but one that isn't always present. Like almost every solo by any early studio pianist(after Issler), it has got to be a quote of another song, but this one has me stumped. Most of the time it takes a few listens to get the more obscure musical jokes of the studio pianists. Also, listen to the very end, there's a loud thump! as though something fell over and a voice acknowledging the crash. It's clearly a mistake because it's so abrupt and it caught by some other voices far back there. 

Since there 's another earlier take(the last one is from 1898 or so), that one should be exhibited too. This take is transferred too fast, but it's still Gaskin's original take, likely from 1893 or 1894, which is entirely valuable. 

That's Gaskin around 1895. 
So here's that transfer:
http://cylinders.library.ucsb.edu/search.php?queryType=@attr+1=1020&num=1&start=1&query=cylinder11763
There's that signature scream. I know he's supposed to be a little black kid, but this take is where it sounds absolutely the most hilarious. I'm learning overtime that Gaskin was weird, more so than any of us could imagine. A little Irish leprechaun of a man with lots of energy left vacant from so many slow songs. The wildness comes alive on records such as his 1893 ish "Little Alabama Coon". By the way, the pianist on that is most likely Issler, indicated by the year and circumstances of how around that time I've seen newspaper evidence of Gaskin performing that very tune with Issler. 

Now to move to something that's a little questionable for me. 
Now you all know how much I'm in love with Fred Hager, but I cannot stand his violin records. They are such an infernal racket, and are generally boring selections.

However, Santa Barbara put a few Hager records that are of more interesting selections. The first interesting selection was his "Rag Time Medley", which ought to be good, given the chances are very high Frank P. Banta is the pianist behind him. Here you go:
http://cylinders.library.ucsb.edu/search.php?queryType=@attr+1=1020&num=1&start=1&query=cylinder11744
Just imagine it, pretty Hager looking not too different from how he did above playing violin with Banta. What a beautiful thing to imagine...
There are a few reasons I can't stand Hager's violin records, one is that he's rarely in tune(that's my perfect pitch coming in), and that he slurs notes so much that some of them blend together and make it more out of tune. This particular record is rather entertaining because Banta is keeping the rhythm nice and constant, with added syncopation so complement Hager, but Hager trips all over the place. 
Though, they did seem to put up the best Hager violin solo I've heard so far, and it's from a bit later than expected. 
http://cylinders.library.ucsb.edu/search.php?queryType=@attr+1=1020&num=1&start=1&query=cylinder11385
I had assumed most of his violin records were from 1899 and 1900, but I guess 1901 still works out. At least Banta's still there behind him to keep him from tripping over. For such a virtuoso and matinee idol, you'd think that he would embody the long passed soul of Niccolo Paganini. Hager unfortunately was nowhere close to that, despite his musical status in music conservatories and with symphony musicians all over. He was better at arrangements and keeping bands together turns out. 

Seems we're getting warmer to Spencer, so how about some George W. Johnson? Johnson's records are always different, since the arrangements were basically only based on chord changes and weren't exactly melody driven, each take is very different. We may not exactly know the origins of Johnson's "The Laughing Coon", but it likely had something to do with Banta, just as "the Laughing song" had back in 1894. Of course, the take i'm going to use here is not one of the typical Banta Edison takes, it's another one of those ragged Hylands Columbia takes. 
Unfortunately, this take is transfered really quiet, likely due to it being played quite often in its life of 120 years:
http://cylinders.library.ucsb.edu/search.php?queryType=@attr+1=1020&num=1&start=1&query=cylinder16897
It's really hard to hear, but from what we can hear of the piano accompaniment, it's really ragged and has all of those signature early Hylands characteristics. If you know the song as well as I do, you should be able to keep track of how the song goes and what might be played at certain times. That's the only way I've been able to understand and pull apart this recording at all, since it's so worn out and quiet. Hopefully I will be able to almost completely transcribe the accompaniment on this record, because in the end, this one is certainly worth the time and effort. This may be a case of pieceing together if anything. 

All right, time to get to that new Spencer transfer!
These are obviously the most exciting new things for me, since Santa Barbara has had quite a few good ones listed for a while, and none have been transferred. Now little by little they're being put up, which is a great way to get them. The one in particular that has been a source of fascination is his c.early 1898 Columbia of "Kentucky Babe". It sounds like it could have been recorded in late-1897, but its most certainly in the early era of Spencer with Hylands(pre publishing firm I mean). 
http://cylinders.library.ucsb.edu/search.php?queryType=@attr+1=1020&num=1&start=1&query=cylinder11394
Unlike every other take I've heard of this tune, this take is quick and jumpy, rather than following the very theme, that Spencer announces at the beginning, of the song(Picanniny Lullaby). That unusual fact makes this record all the more charming though. The piano accompaniment was recorded really well, which makes for a nice balance of Spencer and Hylands, and that's always good. We can hear them both equally, which isn't always the case. I must note, since it peeves me, that Spencer's pitch is not great on this take either, it's too reminiscent of his pre 1896 records...All I can comment on that is that Hylands is there, and his influence of anything addictive is likely present. 
That may also be part of why the song was played quicker and more playful than the slow and calming that it usually was. Who knows, with Spencer and Hylands, anything's possible. 
But what about that accompaniment? Wow. Hylands plays pretty nice throughout the record, playing weird inversions and voicings of chords like usual, but at the whistling solo at the end---all hell breaks loose! The quick and complicated banjo imitation is entirely unexpected. He's playing so many notes it's hard to fathom. It's based on the banjo imitation form, whatever he's playing, but it's got all of those 32nd notes that he was known for. At least we have more evidence of his frequent playing of banjo imitations, this time before 1900, and rather early in his collaborations with Spencer. Rag-Time scholars take note!




Anyway, there are quite a few new transfers I need to get to, but I've exhausted my immediate knowledge for the night, so I've got to leave it here. 

Hope you all enjoyed this!

Denny's Wails and Spencer's wise Cracks

There's a whole lot to love about Will F. Denny, but despite the praise he's gotten with record collectors, there's not much known about him. This is unfortunate, since he's one of the earliest Columbia "regulars", being advertised in The Phonogram as early as 1892. He was really the most energetic and vigorous of the earliest recording stars, even he surpassed Leachman's level of this on his Victors. Most collectors know of Denny's signature wails and laughs on most of his records, which made his recordings distinct in the era they were made. 

His records are comical in different ways than those of the Spencer's or Russell Hunting's, but his humor is a type that more collectors can easily catch, and agree with as well. Spencer and Hunting are often too crass for many collectors, which is perfectly fine to my liking. Denny's humor however, was full of energy and practical humor, that seemed more widely enjoyed by Victorian people. Denny's humor(for the most part), was the humor of the stuffy upper class, even though this was not always the case. Spencer's and Hunting's was the humor of the people, or saloon-goers and workers. It seems strange to compare these recording stars by the type of humor they conveyed on their recordings, but there's certainly a difference between Denny and Spencer. 

One thing to consider when reviewing Spencer's sense of humor is the fact that he was a dandy. 

Even at about 23, Spencer was already cultivating the dandy's style, as that tie is very unusual from the early 1890's. His humor was rather dark and crass, even with his well-to-do upbringing. His background didn't seem to matter when he became involved with the first "clan" members Russell Hunting and Victor Emerson. Hunting really got him into the business "full-time" so to speak, as it seems he was in and out of recording before 1892. Hunting was drawn to Spencer because of his knowledge and curiosity of recording, especially Spencer's ability and interest in the mechanics of recording, even though we know that Spencer did more than that. Of course, we know what Hunting decided to do almost just as he became a recoding star, recording smut. Once he began doing this, he must have gone to Spencer to ask if he would be one of his "doubles" to record his smut under pseudonyms, but of course, Spencer refused the offer. But after Hunting's bust in 1896, Spencer took on little bits of Hunting's crass humor and set them in some of his sketches and songs. With sketches like this one:

 (in a high voice) Say Nigger--

Well, what now lady?

(high voice)I wanta aks yew which one out a' all these gals you've got that yew really love the best?

Well lady, I consider that an impersonal 'cause I don't discuss my love affairs with nobody. But since that you are rubberneckin' an' wants ta know, why I'll tell you it's a---

(sings the rest of the song etc...)

This sketch came from Spencer's 1899 Columbia of "My Josephine" with Hylands on piano. This is certainly one of the more racy sketches of Spencer's, even though his auction records sometimes have even more saucy comments and puns, such as this one from his Victor of "Auction Sale of Household Goods":

"The lady that sells this piano's got beautifully carved legs, double back action..."

That's one that could easily be missed when listening to the recording, it took several listens to fully catch the joke. It's things exactly like this that define the humor of both the Spencer's, and what sets then apart from Denny's wild recordings. 

Denny always threw in something to his records to make them more energetic, and sometimes they seem a little strange, such as one of the earliest surviving recordings of him, his 1893 New England Phonograph record of "You Can't Think of Everything". This recording is strange for the fact that Denny gradually grows louder as he sings the verses, which is something that recording stars were advised not to do, or maybe someone told him to do that, but this was the result. It's very weird, that he was probably told to be very loud, and how he delivered! He's shouting by the last chorus, which is something only suited for Edward M. Favor when making records. When he came around again in 1896, Denny used his shouting for more practical comedic effect, rather than just shouting the lyrics to the song by the end of the cylinder. A great example of this is on his early 1902 recording of "Has Anybody Seen Our Cat?", of which the link I cannot share, but if you know the song, you could guess that Denny really does all of his signature comedy, in fact, he does just that, and a little bit more. He does a whole Meow! Meow! Thing at the end, and it tops of the whole recording's wild nature. His many Columbia cylinders from 1898-1899, are among the best examples of his entire range of recording, since that's when there was a wide variety, but also a whole lot of his signature Comic songs, such as his wild version of "How'd You Like to be the Iceman?", and His 1898 patter specialty, "A Man Took A Girl"(Music starts at 5 minutes in...). His "A Man Took A Girl" is especially a great example of his Vaudeville skill, patter songs just like that are the apex of still-relatable comedy. It helps Denny had Fred Hylands behind him on all those fantastic recordings, especially since Hylands added little tags of Rag-Time at the end of the recordings, which always balances out the straight time in the rest of the song. 

Of course, like all the early recording stars, Denny recorded some coons songs here and there, but with him, they're pretty uncommon. One of the few coon songs he did was "Ain't that A Shame", and "Just because She Made Them Goo Goo Eyes", of which all versions of both recordings are fantastic. Noe can compare to Denny's wild side on his 1901 Zon-O-Phone of "Aint You my Lulu"(transferred too fast though...). Damn, Denny really is all over the place on that recording. It's pretty much the wildest of Denny's recordings I've heard so far, because the piano accompaniment is just as weird and spontaneous. of course, it's one of those in-between Zon-0-Phone's where the pianist could be Fred Hager, Hylands, or Banta, with that, I don't know who the pianist is on this one. That really is unfortunate, since the piano on that is fantastic, but it sounds like too much of a hybrid of all three pianists listed just above to be anyone in particular, so maybe it's the fabled Fred Hager. 

Hager might be more of a pianist that we've all cut him out to be...Just saying....

Denny's recordings can be compared to some of Arthur Collins' earliest recordings, though of course Denny's wails are sometimes a little more prominent and overkilled than Collins'. Just to get this point across, here's Collins' 1902 Zon-o-phone of "Just Because she Made them Goo Goo Eyes", and here's Denny's 1902 version of the same thing. The good thing about these two recordings is that the piano accompaniment on both of them is fantastic, in different ways, because it's likely they're two different pianists. Hager is likely on the Collins version, and Hylands is on the Denny version. Collins sings it much more like we would assumed Denny to, but interestingly, Denny sings it very straight, with little to none of his signature wails. Strangely enough, it almost seems like the star of the Denny recording isn't Denny! It actually seems that they might have intentionally made the piano louder than Denny, because it's suspiciously loud and well-recorded. It's actually not too strange for when this was recorded, since for some reason, for about the entirety of 1902 or so, the piano was always balanced weird on Columbia records, in fact, the piano was balanced in such a way that the singers were almost drowned out by the piano(wow, how Hylands must have been elated they were doing that....), wish I knew why, but it's always on 1902 Columbia records. They are all recorded just before Charles Prince took over the Columbia orchestra, hmm... Wonder if there's a correlation there? It's records like the Denny recording above and this one here that illustrate this strange effect on such a short period of Columbia records. Personally, I really like that this was a "thing" for almost the entirety of 1902, it makes Rag-Time pianists really listen, and actually be able to listen to the piano accompaniment. 

Denny's wails are really great to hear, and make his recordings much more fun to listen to, though it's unfortunate that he didn't live into the 1910's, where he could have been in silent films, and we could see his fantastic and hilarious range of facial expressions. The picture at the beginning of this post is only a slight example of one of many great expressions Denny had when he made records. 

Hope you enjoyed this! 

Studio Politics and New Leachman cylinders

Ah yes, the week prior to election day, and this time around, it's the most frantic one for many decades. To remain on the subject of politics, this brings me to the first part of this post. Much of the studio politics are hard to track as far as these documents go, but if you're looking into the outside activities of these recording stars, many assumptions and theories can be formulated. Sometimes it's a little misleading, such as someone like Len Spencer, who followed many ideals of the Democrats of that time, but embodied most of the mindset of Lincoln, as well as James Garfield(remember that Garfield was his godfather, and is where his middle name came from). Other than all of this, Spencer was a harshly standing Republican, and this is clear after reading some of those sections from The Phonoscope that he was a Roosevelt man, also McKinley for that matter. Other than Spencer's beliefs being primarily republican, most of his fraternal friends of the publishing firm were Roosevelt/McKinley supporters, and at that progressive Republicans, though with the rise of new ideas circulating at that time, some of these "brothers"(referring to the "fraternal" atmosphere that Hylands specifically promoted for the publishing firm)  later entered in the other, Socialism. That came around after 1900 though, even if the ideals existed before then. 

That one section from the May, 1900 issue of The Phonoscope very well illustrates the devotion to Roosevelt/McKinley that some of the Columbia staff had, more specifically Roger Harding and Len Spencer. With two sections in the General News section about the upcoming election, it seems that there's more than just a little devotion to politics there, even after Hunting was settled in out in England, and had been gone for almost two years by then. To add to this, Harding had his own republican club out in New York, and hosted performances of Spencer's minstrels there in 1900 as well, as it was in May of that year that a few performances can be tracked in local newspapers. Since Harding was such a politico, it seems that he ran most of the politics of the "Clan" at Columbia, and kicked aside those who weren't republican, or progressive. This would immediately eliminate Silas Leachman from any of the "clan" activity. 

That brings me to Leachman, who was a Democrat and it's clear that he was, as that's the party he ran for as a Chicago Alderman around his time of making Victor records(1901-1903). Leachman was from Kentucky though, so it isn't too surprising that he was a Conservative politician in Chicago. Take into consideration that the Democrats were the party of the trusts, and the barons of railroads and corporations. Leachman was part of no studio clan though, he just had local politicians and some local characters in his circles. There didn't seem to be a clan of recording studio performers out in Chicago, even if there kind of was in the mid-1890's, Leachman wasn't one of them. This group would have included Bert Morphy, Banta's orchestra, the North American outpost employees, and some more who recorded for the Chicago Talking Machine Company.

With all of these conflicting views of politics, it would seem strange to think where some of the "clan" member went after it broke up around 1903. Len Spencer remained firmly on Roosevelt's side, and when Wilson was put in office, he must have had none of it. It seems Fred Hylands became more progressive than previously thought, as he had begun to associate himself with not only strange and sassy actor folk(like J. Grant Gibson) , but also with Union leaders and workers' rights activists, and of course with this spreading like disease all over New York, it would seem inevitable for him to get roped in to the rough gangs of Socialists that were sprouting up. The friendly local Socialists must have found Fred to be a great example of someone that could make real change in their cause. He must not have been sure if joining them was a good idea, but since they were the ones for beginning all of these unions, it's not surprising that hard standing Socialist like Art Young would take an interest in Hylands' advocacy. Of course, now we have evidence of this happening, as this cartoon says everything about it:

Yes indeed, that fantastic and very accurate portrayal of Hylands. 

If you haven't already guessed, I will be using this cartoon of Hylands rather often now, since it really does personify everything about him that I draw and have pieced together. These union acts from Hylands certainly not only had him lose friends, but gain some that had nothing to do really with performing, like Art Young for example. I'm not saying that Hylands was solely socialist, but there must have been hints of it here and there, but remember, this is around the time that Columbia dropped him is when this was beginning. I would say that his socialist side began to kick in around the earlier part of 1902, when he was almost thrown out of Columbia because of the Climax/Victor/ZonOphone/Columbia feud, and it had nothing to do with him whatsoever, even if he was technically working for all of those companies when it happened(which was not really okay as you might have guessed). Of course, that's just typical Hylands, committing for a little while, then seeing more opportunities along the way and taking them, not regarding pre-existing animosity, legal stability, or company names. That, as we know, got him into trouble, and out of the Union that he helped kickstart in 1905(the White Rats that is). Spencer might have liked Hylands' hints of Socialism here and there, but when he began the owner of a Lyceum with many valued workers, maybe not so much, and especially since it's clear that Spencer hosted White Rats performances at his theater, he must have had enough of it by that contract fail in 1908. 

Spencer had another reason to be bitter toward is old accompanist by then.

Anyway, time for some music! While searching around in the Santa Barbara cylinder website, doing my daily checking for new transfers, I stumbled across three of the Leachman cylinders they have, and they're finally transferred! 

Yay! More Leachman cylinders! 
These transfers were messy, which is unfortunate, but one of them stands out more than the others in that respect. More than half of the cylinder can be heard very well and clearly, with almost no mold, but the other two are plagued with the spores. 
Here's the best one:
http://cylinders.library.ucsb.edu/search.php?queryType=@attr+1=1020&num=1&start=1&query=cylinder15987
This is a fantastic example of authentic Chicago Rag-Time, and all of the playing is made more interesting by the great sound of the piano! It sounds a lot like Columbia's piano after Spencer flipped it over back in 1897. Since it's not balanced the same way that normal studios were balanced, it sounds a little weird and out-of-whack, and that's really why the piano sounds the way it does. However, the piano really does sound great from my strange standpoint of what historically accurate pianos sound like, in fact, that little interlude he plays at about 1:21 is one of the best examples of what a studio piano from that time should sound like, and it's not a studio piano! it's just the piano that Leachman had at his home, as it is one of those cylinders, that he made at home with four cylinder players set atop the piano, recording them "white wax style"(or like Spencer did when he began making records in 1889). 
Here's the one that's second best as far as mold goes:
http://cylinders.library.ucsb.edu/search.php?queryType=@attr+1=1020&num=1&start=1&query=cylinder16000
The piano certainly sounds better on this one, more well-recorded and tuned. It's a great cylinder, even if it's really messy. That can't compare in mold to the third one:
http://cylinders.library.ucsb.edu/search.php?queryType=@attr+1=1020&num=1&start=1&query=cylinder15986
From what can be heard, it is a fantastic cylinder, that would sound really good if it wasn't moldy. It's also a really good song on it, which certainly helps to make it better to listen to. It must be noted that Leachman plays the final chord of the piano accompaniment exactly the same way that Hylands did, which is very strange, yet makes sense, since Hylands was a Chicago pianist when Leachman was making records in the mid-1890's. After listening to these, I see why Vic Emerson always said Leachman was not really the best musician, but he only said that because he was comparing him to the pianists he had at Columbia, which isn't really a fair comparison. Of course, those Victor that Leachman made in 1901-1903 are better examples of his singing and his absolutely phenomenal vocal range, but since no one really said who was on piano, all guesses are essentially off for his Victors, as they could be any one of the early studio pianists, or even Leachman himself. Maybe there's a reason that some of his Victors sound a little unbalanced as far as piano goes...
It's not impossible that he would have been playing his own accompaniment, as that was his act, and the Victor people might have seen past Emerson's ignorant claims to Leachman's musicianship. A particular Victor of his that comes to mind is "I need the money" from 1901, not only can we hear the piano extremely clear, but also hear Leachman change his voice from his normal tone to a Hebrew dialect, and then Irish, all on the same recording. Really listen to when he changes from his regular voice to the others, it's really extraordinary, and ingenious. That's something you don't get to hear too often on these early records, the change from normal tone of voice to something completely different. Someone who also did that often was Roger Harding, and he sounded pretty different once he did, but not nearly as different as Leachman. It's that about Leachman that is so ingenious, that most people don't realise, that his range and versatility was in reality more so than all the other early recording stars, and yes, even Len Spencer. 

There's probably no way we'll ever know for sure if Leachman played piano on his Victors, but that's something to keep in mind when listening to them. Maybe try to envision them being recorded that way if you're someone who can do that when listening(that's what I do usually).

For a good comparison, here's a 1901 Victor by Roger Harding:
http://adp.library.ucsb.edu/index.php/matrix/detail/100002593/Pre-matrix_B-3450-Ive_been_down_in_old_Kentucky_
Damn I love Roger Harding. This record is exactly why. 
Listen to how the piano is recorded, with the distance, and tone.
Now compare it to the first and second takes of "Whoa Dar Mule" by Leachman:
http://adp.library.ucsb.edu/index.php/matrix/detail/100002500/Pre-matrix_B-3357-Whoa_dar_mule#
There's a dramatic difference in the sound of the piano, and it's a little suspicious. Alright, I'm a little more convinced that Leachman played his own accompaniment on at least some of his Victors. If this is true, we've got some listening to do Rag-Time pianists, because he sounds an awful lot like the earliest Rag composers, out in Chicago that is. 


Maybe that's why I thought Hylands was on some of his Victors... ...

Hope you enjoyed this!