In the last week and a half, I have been on quite a journey, to Southern California.
Just over a week ago, I returned from a 5 day trip via train to Santa Barbara and then to Los Angeles proper. I mentioned at the very end of my last post that i would be visiting UCSB, and that's exactly what I did. In the weeks leading up to my visit, I spent hours combing through the lists of what Santa Barbara's library holds in terms of early disc records, picking out things I wanted to see when I visited. The requests kept piling up, until I had about 40 records to listen to when I called. The amount of records were astounding, so many things that ought to be beautiful, and how they were. After a day of frustrating but in the end pleasant train travel the previous day, I finally found my way to where the special collections are kept on campus, I was led to their modest reading room overlooking the beautiful mountains. I was entirely at peace, sitting there in the quiet listening to these 40 or so records, and writing notes down on each one, it was heavenly.
I don't want to share every single image I
took of these records, as it's quite a few, but these are a few of the standouts from the little collection I requested:
took of these records, as it's quite a few, but these are a few of the standouts from the little collection I requested:
(yes I took pictures of every record I requested, just for my personal reference)
(Keep in mind that this is nowhere near everything else I heard from the stack)
So...why did I go through so much to do this? What would be the point of doing this if i couldn't take the transfers with me? Well, as I stated above, I took very detailed notes on each record, more particularly the Zon-O-Phone's. The reason I went though as much as I did to come and see these records was to study two dozen early Zon-O-phone's to try and build a better foundation for the 2(or three) pianists that worked for Zon-O-phone from 1899-1907(or so). For example, when I picked out the records to listen to, I specifically chose a few doubles of the same song by different artists, but on the same label. The most telling example I chose were 2 versions of "strike up the band, here comes the sailor". The versions I chose were both recorded on Zon-O-phone in the same year, but by Edward M. Favor and Billy Heins(I posted a picture of the Heins version above). One thing that became very evident about these takes was that it was certainly the same pianist on both of them. But what does that mean?
Well, I am recalling now how I described one of the takes in my notebook, one take was much more precise and took stranger risks at the times for solos. The take I was previously more familiar with was the Heins take, with the familiar and extremely well executed "sailor's hornpipe" at the very end, the Favor take had this ending also, but somehow they found the time to place the same tag in the middle of the record!(very hastily and sloppily I might add). You can hear a not too great transfer here:
This take is the better one overall, much better composed and thought out, the accompaniment anyway, Heins was always great. The two choruses of "sailor's hornpipe" seemed very improvised on the Favor take as I'm recalling now. But it's assuring to know that it's the same pianist on both, which isn't entirely surprising, but good to know.
So did I come to any conclusions? Well, not really. I was hoping that hearing 35 more early Zon-O-phone's would solve my issues with Zono's accompanists, but it really didn't in the end. But there were some interesting things I observed about two records in particular.
These two were particularly fascinating. I went back and listened to them perhaps half a dozen times each because of the accompaniments. The first one i would immediately assume to have the so-called Hager style accompaniment, and the second to have the Justin Ring accompaniment, and yes they did. But what about them made them so fascinating?
Well, the first one is definitely the most unusual Zon-O-phone I've ever heard in terms of accompaniment. Denny sings the song very slow, and the accompanist follows in the most unusual and playful way, here are the notes I wrote about it:
Record 16--Goo Goo eyes by Denny, 1901 etched Lyre Zono. very funny and exaggerated intro and very playful as well as dynamic accompaniment. sung very slow by Denny, definitely an outstanding accompaniment...That pianist has got to be Hager: so dynamic, playful, humorous, adventurous, and full of odd syncopation as well as fifths and chords in the left hand for extra emphasis. rolled ending chords, can't forget the absolute precision and daintiness!
So you can probably observe that I think that pianist is Hager. I am really starting to think that that strange and very distinct early Zon-O-Phone pianist is Hager, and thanks to a few passed down accounts of Hager's accompaniment, I am becoming increasingly certain of this. All of these characteristics seem to fit perfectly with what I gather of his personality, which is also quite nice. So, what about the second one above? That one was also just as good as the Denny from 1901, despite it being from the very end of the piano accompaniment era(1904). Already, the song proves for some good accompaniment to be expected(that's why I chose it!). If you haven't already heard it, here's a 1904 Columbia of it also by Bob Roberts:
This song is already bluesy and well composed, so the accompaniment on the Zon-O-Phone I heard was no less. This record especially stood out because of the repeated use of many different early blues motifs(and this was recorded in 1904). It was definitely not the same pianist as the 1901 Zono I paired with it. The pianist is very similar, but it's not the same person. This pianist is the other familiar Zon-O-phone pianist, with the less dynamic and more aggressive touch that was common on many later Zono's with piano accompaniment. For this 1904 Zono, here were my notes:
Record 17--Wouldn't it make you Hungry by Roberts, 1904 brown 9-inch Zono. Very bluesy accompaniment exaggerated syncopation, every core blues motif present. This is likely Justin Ring! There are also bits of walking bass, very similar syncopation to that of Ring's "sweet potatoes" and "jovial Joe".
Yeah, that pretty much sums up the pianist on later Zon-O-phone's. So I think that pianist is Ring, just logically, and considering his own rags and arrangements written around the same time. When I got back, I made sure to cross reference all the Zono's I had heard before with the corresponding labels, and pianists I think are the same.
For the Denny record, I used these for cross reference:
And for the Roberts I used these:
The accompaniments pretty much line up quite well with the assumed accompanists. The different styles fit pretty solidly into the periods that I associate them with. Occasionally I have heard standouts from this pattern, as I have heard a Zon-O-phone from 1901 where the pianist really sounds like the Justin Ring pianist, and I have heard teal label Zono's from 1902-03 that have that Hager accompanist on them. Naturally this would not be the case all the time, just thinking of this logically. Of course Hager and Ring would cross over often, it wouldn't always be Ring at a certain period of time, or vice versa.
So aside from the majority of Zon-O-phone's I studied at UCSB, the few Berliners and Columbia's I chose were beautiful as expected, I listened to George Schweinfest play "Sand Dance" a dozen times, as it was so loud and clear, as well as catchy as hell. The melodies are so nice in that seemingly modest piece, but they are haunting. I have bits of that record run through my head still. I should say in referring to a popular 1890's song, "her smile haunts me still", Schweinfest's playing haunts me still. To keep an even amount of space to tell the gist of this long tale, I will move along to the next phase of my travels. I will come back to some more of these records I saw and heard at UCSB in the next few posts.
The following day, after another 3 hour train ride, I got into LA proper, met with a friend that evening and was beyond excited for the day ahead. The next day I went to visit John Levin. I listen to brown wax every day, and a large percentage of these brownies are from the collection of Mr. Levin. So with this in mind you could imagine the overwhelming anticipation and excitement this brought me. I can barely describe the amount of extraordinary things I saw in his collection. I am still remembering little details of my 8 hour visit over a week removed. I only took two pictures from this visit, as it seemed I had no time to take out my phone, and out of kind courtesy I remained disciplined and intensely focused on the cabinets full of priceless brown wax. When he gave me the tour, there was drawer after drawer of every shade of brown, channel rims, and handwritten slips of every kind. he has two cabinets and three drawers full of Issler's orchestra records. There was a drawer of Kansas City Talking machine records, dozens of original wooden cases of U.S. records, and record boxes of every kind, some I could have never even conceived of existing.
Here's the one crappy picture I took of any brownies he had. Look at that beautiful channel rim!
he allowed me to choose any bunch of records I wanted to hear, and those records I chose were:
"Echoes from the Snowball club" by Issler's orchestra(1898)
"La Paloma" by Issler's Orchestra(c.1895)
"Dora Dean" by Leachman(1898)
"The Cocoanut Dance" by Ossman(c.1893)
"The Cocoanut Dance" banjo solo by James Dunn of Kansas City(c.1897)
"African Wedding Dance(cake-walk)" by Issler's orchestra(c.1894)
"The Cat Came Back"(The singer's name escapes me now) North American record(1893)
That's quite a bunch! I had always wanted to hear Issler's "african wedding dance", as I assumed it to be a cake-walk or negro dance of some kind, an important thing to look for in studying early rag-time. To add to the significance of that particular record, Len Spencer does the calls as usual, and at the beginning Spencer states, "all ready for the cake walk!".
There ya go folks, that's one of the earliest authentic references to the cake-walk on a record as far as I've heard. Why is it not surprising that it comes from Spencer?
In keeping with my formula for studying pianists through cross referencing, I naturally chose two versions of the same song by different banjoists, I'm referring to the takes of "The Cocoanut Dance". Recently this particular piece has become especially interesting to me, as it's a great example of a dynamic and well composed negro dance, the direct predecessor to Rag-time. This piece was written in 1891 by Andrew Hermann, and was recorded countless times since that year, recorded as late as 1907. The Ossman version was interesting because it was a very early take, recorded almost certainly before 1895. I have been wanting to study more of Ossman's early recordings, as I would like to think that he dragged Banta into the studio to make them. Also, I think that Ossman played very slightly differently in his earlier days, his playing seemed a bit smoother and technically more odd.
But the Kansas City "Cocoanut Dance" was something very different. I had never heard of James Dunn, but of course the label and banjo playing was entirely attractive to me no matter what. Those Kansas City records were all originals, so each one sounded superior, and this particular "Cocoanut Dance" was nothing less. It was swung and ragged in a way that one could expect from a record made in Kansas City in the mid-1890's, pretty much already sounding like Rag-Time, despite the piece being published several years before. The accompaniment was quite modest from what I remember, but there were points where the pianist followed with the swing quite well, but others where it kind of broke down(in a bad way) and got out of whack.
The Leachman was special. It was one of those so highly prized brownies he made at home in the 1890's, but this particular far surpasses even the "Wedding of the Chinee and the Coon'' that's transferred online. https://archive.org/details/ChineeandtheCoonLeachman99
Well, for one thing, this other Leachman wasn't nearly as messy as the one in the link above. I recall that his own accompaniment on this "Dora Dean" brownie was fantastic, eccentric, and ragged as usual. Despite Leachman's handicap of being barely able to read any music, his piano playing is about as close as we can ever get to hearing an authentic itinerant Chicago pianist of the pre-ragtime era. Aspects of his playing are reminiscent to those of the rags of William Krell and even the accompaniments of Fred Hylands. I cannot stress enough how significant Leachman's accompaniments are, if you could hear how I would be passionately speaking about this it might help.
Soon I will be able to very well dissect and study Leachman's accompaniment on his "Dora Dean". For now his odd humming chorus is forever going to reappear in my mind. That song is awfully catchy.
After we got a few things transferred, he took me downstairs to see his disc record collection. Several hours earlier I spoke to him of my mission to dissect those two(0r three) Zon-O-Phone pianists, he took note of this as we poked around in the basement. As he began searching for a stack of Zon-O-Phone's, I was standing by attentively hypnotized on all the records surrounding, and he ever so modestly handed me a stack of about 15 5-inch Berliner's, like it was nothing.
"Here--look through these while I find the 7-inch Zon-O-phone's"
5-inch Berliners! The first commercially made disc records in history.
Soon I spied an oddly shaped green box I had never seen before.
The box looked like this:
(of course on the 12 hour train ride back I drew a cartoon that included this little box)
Yep, that's what it was, a Zon-O-phone record case. This case was intended for 9-inch records, and it was a nice shade of green.
In this case, there were a handful of Zon-O-phone's that we listened to, including the one below:
Of course, pandering to my odd feelings about Hager's violin playing. But that aside, this record was fascinating, as it's quite upbeat compared to the other material Hager recorded violin solos of. So logically the pianist on that would have to be Justin Ring, right? Well yes, and actually, I must say that the accompaniment had similar aspects to that aggressive accompanist that I associate as Ring.
In this bonus Zon-O-phone stack, there were a few Rosa Chalia records, despite those being operatic, I am very much interested in those, as I am almost certain that the accompanist on those(her Zono's that is) is Hager. It can't really be Ring, as Hager spent a few years in music school to study every kind of music, opera most certainly included. Keep in mind that I still do not know what Ring was doing in the late 1890's, but it's quite possible the two met while both in music school.
Here's the best example I've heard so far:
It helps that Chalia was a great singer, and luckily since these ones I heard were on Zon-O-Phone, the piano was well recorded, but quiet as usual for them.
There were a few Hager's and Zon-O-Phone orchestra records in this little stack, each one good as expected, and luckily all of his Zono's were in great shape, so each one sounded nearly new.
When I got back to where I was staying, I was drained mentally and emotionally. It felt like I was recovering from an 8 hour long high, as it was so much to process. I'm still processing all that I saw that day.
Anyway, there's a lot more for me to talk about from the last few weeks, but it's getting late as I'm writing this, and I would like to finish this post in one shot. In the next post I will speak of the illusive Eddie King, and how he's becoming a more significant figure in my studies each day.
Hope you enjoyed this!
