"One, Two ,Three, Four--" CRASH!

We as musicians and record geeks have all heard a bandleader do this before. But have you heard Banta or Hylands do it?

Well, if you have ever heard any of those early Victor records, with a label such as these:

The earliest Victor records have always been a fascination with record geeks and Rag-Timers alike(due to the heavy amount of Rag-Time that was recorded on them!). They are weird, collectable, often have over-recorded piano accompaniment, and on the "Metropolitan Orchestra" records, count-offs! Yes, on many of the Victors by the Metropolitan orchestra, you can hear very faint, but audible, count-offs by whoever the pianist was at that session. Of course, as I have well explained before, Victor had the most varying piano chair of any of the early record companies(more so than Zon-O-Phone in fact!). On these orchestra records, the pianist is either Frank Banta, Fred Hylands, or C. H. H. Booth. It was a very sketchy time at Victor. The three pianists came back and forth in the Victor studio, even though in 1900, it was mostly Hylands and Banta, after that, the three of them went in at whatever day one of them showed up. It was like rolling dice with them. They waited to see what it landed on, who would come in to lead the band and play for the singers. Booth and Banta seemed more likely to come in than Hylands however, as Hylands was doing all these records for Columbia, Climax, AND Zon-O-Phone(they were all pretty much the same thing though). Hylands was oftentimes too busy. Then there was Banta. Banta was busy at Edison, but just happen to have the means to come to the Victor studio and play for the boys there. He is said to have been the one who did all of those faint count-offs that can be heard if you are listening closely. Just as expected, it could just as well have been Hylands. It's something that we may never truly know. 
So to start the analyzing, here's one from 1901 that the count-off could be heard if you're really paying attention just after the announcement:
http://adp.library.ucsb.edu/index.php/matrix/detail/100002619/Pre-
matrix_B-3476-The_girl_from_Maxims
Just as said, " One, two, three, four--" that's the beginning of this Victor rarity. 

We will never truly know who's saying it though. It's either lumbering Hylands or stringy Banta. The band's loud playing often keeps us from truly knowing who it was because they drown out the piano, and one can only hear the ringing strings of the piano, rather than hearing how the pianist "attacks" the keys. It's odd, the pianist's attack or feel on the piano can be heard just enough on the Columbia's from the same time with their orchestra. just enough to where one can tell that it's Hylands:
http://cylinders.library.ucsb.edu/mp3s/5000/5225/cusb-cyl5225d.mp3
Hear them all shout at the beginning! 
But as I was saying, you can tell that Hylands is on the piano, because the piano is scorchingly loud compared to some of the other instruments in the band. Also by the clearly audible but blending deep octaves. Just to truly prove this point, here's one from 1903 with Edward M. Favor:
https://ia801406.us.archive.org/25/items/EdwardMFavor/EdwardMFavor-WhistlingReilly.mp3
The piano is balanced just a little too well on this one...
Well, thinking of Hylands' opinion on this, he would have been perfectly content with being louder than everyone else. 

Anyway, back to those Victors. Those Metropolitan Orchestra records were often done in only 1 or 2 takes, which was unusual for that time, and logistics 
wise. Some of the records sort of fell apart in the arrangement, someone(or two) was out of tune, or someone was lagging behind another person in their section, it could become an absolute mess sometimes. This is exactly what I'm talking about, even if the pianist still counts it off at the beginning(very very faintly this time):
http://adp.library.ucsb.edu/index.php/matrix/detail/100002306/Pre-matrix_B-3165-The_sleighing_party
This record completely falls apart by the end of the recording. They're all out-of- tune and a little bit off in staying together as one. But the piano is great! Which ever one of the pianist came in that day was playing finely, but somehow couldn't keep the band together very well. This is where the CRASH part of the title of this post comes from, it's the explosion of the band falling apart on this record. 
This next one is a reasonably better record, with them staying together pretty well, but their still not all in tune with each other:
http://adp.library.ucsb.edu/index.php/matrix/detail/100002301/Pre-matrix_B-3160-The_gridiron_march
(Deep octaves at 1:32) 
This piece is a fun march by the great Soloist of Sousa's band, 

Arthur Pryor. Now Pryor's own band did record this for Victor a little later than this, but before that could happen, there was this sort of messy record by the Metropolitan orchestra in 1901. Pryor's band did this better though. Sometimes this Metropolitan Orchestra just couldn't get themselves together, but sometimes it was alright. The end of this record can prove that, as they can't keep themselves as one when that chromatic pattern hits them, at the end of the record. But you can still hear the ringing of the piano strings! 
Not all of the Metropolitan Orchestra records have the audible count-off, but most of them have some mutters between the announcement and the start of the music. 

I hope you enjoyed this!