The OKeH mystery and new transfers

Well folks, It has been a hell of a month! 

Since my last post, it has been particularly difficult to sit down and write a decent blog post. A lot has happened in terms of research, so much so that it has been difficult to conjure a single thing into a decent write up, so hopefully this post goes somewhat well. If it's more scattered than usual, I do apologize. 

So...

Regarding Hager's collection...with the access to some of it, a whole lot of mysteries have risen. One particular thing has got me at a frustrating cliffhanger. In 1923, as many collectors know, the OKeH boys went out to the south to take on the earliest successful group of field recordings. From this trip there came about the start of the hillbilly record. When you look up these significant field recordings, the sole manager of these you see is a fellow named Ralph Peer. Mr. Peer is a familiar figure in the early jazz world, as he was the one who got King Oliver's first records on the market, and for dozens more things that more collectors of records care about(you know, who cares about records from before 1920?). 

So here's where the conflict begins.  

(Hager, second from left, and the Heinemann's and all, 1920. Notice the GENERAL PHONOGRAPH sign in the background.)

We know about Hager's high management role at OKeH in the 1920's, being the big kahuna(quite literally I might add!) in the studio. His prestige earned him lots of mentions in histories of the OKeH label, from Mamie Smith to Clarence Williams, but what about the Hillbilly records? 

According to every source I have checked, Hager had nothing to do with these field recordings. BUT! Hager's own writing proved otherwise. In some of Hager's writing dated to 1950, he states that he had something to do with these recordings, and more than once I might add. 

He claims that:

"Fred Hager[I], then the recording manager took his[my] recording crew to the South, where he[I] recorded many hillbilly troups..."

But this isn't the narrative that I've been led to believe. Hager a few lines before claimed that Vernon Dalhart's record of "Wreck of of '97" was responsible for the hillbilly record craze. 

And, he says all this more than once, almost as though he knew someone would be reading through his typo-ridden stories(typewritten) decades later. 

So this begs the question, why is it that we can't find Hager associated with these famous recordings anywhere but in his own private writing? 

In my past experiences of cross referencing the words of the stars themselves, oftentimes there are some serious issues. Like for example, Fred Gaisberg's writing. His writing was full of misinformation, so much of it that it took 50 years for a lot of scholars to finally set everything straight. He claimed outrageous things as George W. Johnson getting lynched for his murder trial, and so many more fallacies I won't take the time to list. 

In my experience with researching Hager's own words, he did get things wrong. He mixed things up, reversed orders and names. A good example is a piece that was written in Record Research  in 1973 by Jim Walsh. Walsh quotes a long letter from Hager received decades ago, and Hager went on about the details regarding his association with vertical labels. In this valuable letter, Hager gives a good idea of what the order of succession was, from Phono-cut to OKeH, but since this letter was published, scholars have proven otherwise. 

Hager reversed the order of a few things, and didn't at all consider the interference of the Starr piano company(later Gennett records) that was part of the deal done by Phono-cut, and later Keen-O-phone. Hager also claimed little responsibility for the Keen-O-Phone endeavor, though without doubt we can prove he was part of it somehow. Based on catalogs and supplements from these labels, Hager's words have been proven wrong. 

So there's that issue. Even with this in mind, why would Hager make this up? Why would he restate the matter in his writings(in two different places)? It wasn't really too far removed from the era in which he worked for OKeH, so it wouldn't seem too out of place. But okay, let's say that Hager was part of this trip, he went with Ralph Peer and the boys to the southern states. The thing that I am not comprehending is why didn't Hager mention Mr. Peer? In every source I've dug through so far, Mr. Peer is regarded as the mastermind and director of these trips. With his youth and vigor, Peer would be in the right place to direct these recordings, being a similar age to most of the performers they recorded. 

(OKeH group photo, taken in 1918. Hager is standing at center)

Hager was one of the oldest managers at OKeH in this period, nearly 20 years older than the very hip young Mr. Peer. As progressive minded as Hager was(as I have learned through reading through more of his writing, typewritten and handwritten), he could only go so far. This is why he left OKeH around 1926, but his buddy Justin Ring stuck around till the end. I don't imagine Hager had the means and physical strength to carry along all the way to New Orleans in 1923, but who knows. I'm judging by the fact that he had wildly spent much of his song hit money and ended up looking quite aged beyond his years by 1918(he was only 43 then). 

Something isn't right here. Something is amiss, and I have no idea what it is. Since there are so many collectors of OKeH records of this type out there, I ma hoping some of you can help in solving this tantalizing mystery. 

Why would Hager so fondly write about these field recordings, but is nowhere to be seen in every historical analysis of them? 

Is Hager wrong? Was there some kind of odd conflict? 

Who knows. if any of you can help, I'd be happy to cross reference with you and include any of your findings in a future post. 

Anyway, time to move on! 

UCSB has been quite busy as we know, they have been putting up all these lovely Zon-O-Phones, which have kept my ears busy. It is difficult to choose a few transfers to highlight here, as there are so many good ones to analyze. 

What's good about some of these new transfers is that they have gone back and taken on a lot of records I have been wanting to hear for years. Many really beautiful brownies! 

To begin, I'd like to highlight a new 1897 Columbia transfer. In my ever present research of Hylands, I am always searching for "...New York City" announced Columbias. Columbias from this period are essential for pinning down a more exact date of pianist style changes. These in particular were made in that period that Hylands was supposed to have been first employed by Columbia. This therefore would indicate the beginning of the hottest rag-time piano heard on records of the entire era(1896-1914). So here's the newly added 1897 "Whistling Coon" by George W. Johnson: 

http://cylinders.library.ucsb.edu/search.php?queryType=@attr+1=1020&num=1&start=1&query=cylinder9963

Unfortunately, the piano is quite distant on this particular take. There is only one thing that stands out in the accompaniment here, and it is that one little addition at 1:25. However! I can tell that this pianist is Hylands. Even with so little distinctions, I am so aware of Hylands' accompaniment on this particular song that it's got to be him on this take. Thanks to a c.1902 Columbia take on UCSB's disc site, it's definitely the same pianist, even though the approach is more ragged. Here's the 1902-ish take:

https://adp.library.ucsb.edu/index.php/matrix/detail/2000135596/211-The_whistling_coon

Aren't convinced yet?

 Well, there's an 1898-ish Columbia of "The whistling girl" with that same accompaniment style, particularly that lumbering vamp:

https://archive.org/details/TheWhistlingGirl1898JohnsonandHylands

So hopefully you are hearing that this is the same pianist here; one dating from 1897, 1898, and 1902. 

And these dates line up perfectly with my Hylands research. In 1897, 1898, and 1902, Hylands was free to work at Columbia with little outside work keeping him from them. These dates correspond well with his availability. 

The next pair of brownies are by John Yorke AtLee. We all love Mr. AtLee! 

I very much enjoy AtLee's records with Hylands. Something about combining the old world man AtLee with the hot young pansy Hylands makes for some brilliant records. AtLee was used to working with straight-laced Fred Gaisberg, so I always imagine that when AtLee walked into Columbia to see big redheaded Hylands there glaring down through his 'spects he must have been somewhat intimidated. The first record to listen to is their 1898 record of "The Mockingbird", which is almost an exact imitation of AtLee's c.1890 record of it with Gaisberg.

http://cylinders.library.ucsb.edu/search.php?queryType=@attr+1=1020&num=1&start=1&query=cylinder16695

Clearly AtLee wanted to this to sound a specific way, but Hylands couldn't help but cut it ragged. This record illustrates Hylands' brilliant talent for split second improvisation. It is kind of a mess, as he plays a lot of the wrong chord changes at times, but manages to keep a confident swagger in his playing. 

To continue the AtLee and Hylands theme, they recently put up two very different takes of "Marchin thro' Georgia". Here you go:

(the first one is listenable, the second one is so messy I wouldn't try it if your ears are delicate)

http://cylinders.library.ucsb.edu/search.php?queryType=@attr+1=1020&num=1&start=1&query=cylinder12007

It really is a damn shame that these records are so mess, as the first one is absolutely great! The tempo they agreed on is perfect. Hylands' variations on this piece have encouraged me to learn this piece in the way he played it. 

AtLee and Hylands worked oddly well together, even with the 18 year difference between them. 

So to close off, I'd like to leave you with a beautiful(but transferred too fast) take of a Latin piece "Pro Peccatis". This has a rough and heavenly piano sound that was often typical of early Zon-O-Phone's. Their piano sounded like a harp sometimes, particularly when Ring played it(that's who I think the pianist is on this particular record).

https://adp.library.ucsb.edu/index.php/matrix/detail/2000259897/Zo_cat_545-Pro_peccatis

I have really built a love for Gogorza's voice recently. I really think he was one of the best singers to record in the 1890's and 1900's. He's up there with J. W. Myers, Silas Leachman, and Joe Belmont. The texture of the piano sound is so intense and precise, in that lovely way Zon-O-Phone records sounded. 

In a future post I will finally explain my recent findings on Ring. I am pretty sure he is the pianist on that Latin Zono based on recent findings regarding him. 

Anyway, 

Hope you enjoyed this! 

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!

Detailing research and Arthur Pryor

Okay...who did it?

Who's been putting up all the less-than mediocre information on all these early recording stars? A few days ago I went online to dig up a picture of Charles P. Lowe for a friend,and for some reason I stumbled upon this picture:

The nice quality and the fact that it was more of the image than I had seen before caught my eye. But that's not all, the picture led me to a wikipedia page on Issler's orchestra. Okay, I would love to help someone out to get all of the information that I (with help)recently uncovered about Issler, including the basics. I don't want to mess with wikipedia, I find it important to keep independent research on its own, not in a place where it is less-than trusted. Independent researchers have much power, and I intend to keep it that way. However, the only time that I would step in, would be a time like now, since someone took many of my cropped images(from this blog!) and used them to accompany the less-than-mediocre articles on these giants like Len Spencer, Issler, and John Yorke AtLee. I am glad to see some of my research being used out there, but I don't like to see it misinterpreted and not used correctly. 

I promise to stay away from the generic(wikipedia), since that will take me out of this blog, and will frontload too much information to people looking for generic(BUT ACCURATE) information. 
I don't know who you are who did it, but stop taking pictures from here and writing less-than-mediocre articles about the earliest recording stars, and all I have to say is...

STAY AWAY FROM HYLANDS.

Let me handle that subject. I intend to use the research I have conducted, and make it accessible to everyone who is curious, but I don't like to see mediocre articles with my research either debunked or misinterpreted. 
I still think it's important to spread the word about Edward Issler though, since he is still very unknown in the record collecting world. Issler really should be one of the most important figures in the early recording world, and here's why this is evident:

-He was the first studio pianist there ever was(the first studio musician for that matter)
I'm sure the man himself would find it absolutely disgusting and depressing that no one remembers his work, which, at first glance seems an endless list. Of course, it will forever be a shame that Walsh didn't go find him, since Issler lived into the 1940's, and was still working into the 1930's. Though it may be evident that he was probably the most bitter old man, he still would have been the best source ever about the earliest days of early recording. 

-he knew literally everyone
This is the one reason why interviewing these studio musicians(not soloists) would  have been the most interesting and productive troves of information anywhere. Issler particularly knew everyone, since he worked for Edison , North American, U.S., and later Columbia the four earliest companies that were competitors. Luckily, Issler had the luck of working for all of them and essential times in their histories. So with that, he would have stories about everyone from Old man Edison to Fred Hylands to young Ada Jones. Think about it, think about all the people he would have known, in the recording studio and not. 

It's very hard to fathom at this point why Issler is forgotten, as he was all over catalogs, and his name was listed all over the place on actual ledgers. 

Look at that. There he is. Not only is he listed as a SOLO PIANIST but also as the accompanist for his clarinetist Willie Tuson. In this early book of ledgers, Issler is listed on almost every page doing something. This is why Issler is essential to studying the earliest recordings, in no matter what context, his name ought to show up almost anywhere. I hope to get to the point where we all know something about Issler and know how long he lived, since that is still a dead end when looking him up. Issler is still pretty mysterious to me, and I don't particularly know that much about him, though it may seem otherwise. 

We know he lived into the early 1940's, and would have been around 90 when he died, which is spectacular really. We still don't know what his relationship with Columbia was like, or any record company for that matter. 

Now I have a bunch of theories as to why he was kicked out of Columbia, or whatever they did. Of course, he may have been well used to how he was treated in the earliest days at Edison and North American, so when the business became much bigger and was becoming something very different, Issler must not have liked how he was becoming more of a wage slave than an orchestra leader. The way that Columbia treated their artists in the late brown wax era was less than mediocre, and this is very clear when examining the treatment of the studio musicians. He was used to being one of the sole managers of the studio, he was used to having much more power over the recording process. This couldn't have gone over well with the strict Emerson's. 

That is the face of Columbia's evil. 

He looks relatively harmless...Nope. 

I'm sure stubborn old Issler couldn't get along with Emerson. Even if Emerson was Issler's manager at U.S. from 1893 to 1896, Issler probably had enough of Emerson by 1898. His disappointment in Columbia must have been exacerbated by Hylands replacing him, who wasn't at all to the musical level that Issler was. Issler was likely the type similar to Hylands in the way that he was not only stubborn, but also intense and strident when it came to negotiations with booking agents and managers. Of course, under Emerson's rule, that wouldn't bode well. Emerson was stubborn and blunt, as we know from accounts of his former employees. Whatever they did with Issler, his recording stopped around 1899. And I really think more people should know about Issler, even if he's still mysterious and only a shadow of a figure in the history of early recording. 

Now to move to something else. 

recently, I have been digging into Arthur Pryor's rags, and I have come to a conclusion. Pryor should be regarded as one of the classic rag composers, on the same level as someone like Tom Turpin. I know that's saying an awful lot, but we often just think of Pryor on the context of his trombone playing. 

we often think of his amazing abilities that still astound trombonists and brass players today. Such as this record:

http://www.loc.gov/jukebox/recordings/detail/id/8702

Amazing. 

All of his solos bring a voice to the trombone that has never been replicated since then. 

There's three of the Sousa band guys, with Pryor at the far right. 

That picture was likely taken in 1893 while they were on their tour at the World's Fair in Chicago. All of them look very young, Pryor would have been 22-23 in that picture. When we look past the pretty face and the blond hair, Pryor was a fantastic Rag-Time composer. 

Underrated is the perfect word to describe his Rag-Time pieces. We need to keep in mind that he had a style that was a mix of the two most essential regional styles of early Rag-Time. In this case, I am referring to Missouri and Indiana style. Missouri is where Pryor came from, so he had the foundation of one of the most important Rag-Tim communities from the start. Later when he had just joined the Sousa band in 1892, he was destined to pick up interesting styles and sounds, and that's exactly what he did. After playing tunes like "Banjo Twang"(the Sousa band is mentioned on the cover of that piece) at the World's Fair, Pryor by the mid-1890's had the right foundation for a great rag composer. This foundation made his Rag style very strange while at the same time very interesting and varied. When we look at his published pieces, we can see they are very different from most of the rags we see out there, and when you get right down to it, his style sounds more like a primitive type of Joplin's style mashed together with Frank P. Banta's style. The thing about his style that is most interesting is how he often put the syncopated rhythm in the bass notes almost as much as in the treble. 

His most outstanding rag can be hard to determine, but my favourites of his are his "Frozen Bill Rag" and "Razzazza Mazzazza". He wrote quite a few more rags, and some of us Rag-Time sheet music collectors are still digging ones up, which is a good sign that there's more to hear of Pryor's musical genius. of course, I haven't said anything about his arrangements yet. That's a whole other thing to delve into, since he was just like Fred Hager, who left hundreds of arrangements without his name on them, but we have outstanding records to learn from. 

Pryor's band was hard to beat in terms of sound and talent, since unlike most of the studio orchestras from 1895 to 1915, I cannot find a single bad take by Pryor, or his band too. They seemed like the indestructible band, and Pryor was lucky to have inherited some of the best possible musicians for his group. 

As I have slowly been becoming obsessed with Pryor, I am trying to decide on a seminar topic for WCRF next year, since the earlier I have an idea the better in this case. With this new found affinity for Pryor has begun manifestation, Pryor is most certainly an option for a seminar. Of course, I will stick to more of what people don't usually focus on with him, his Rags and arrangements. 

Something that we can notice in his trombone playing that corresponds with his rags, is how he had that same kind of smooth but also pushy style that Fred Hylands had, which is a strange connection to make, but makes sense if you think about it. Pryor was on the outside of the recording studio constantly, much like Fred Hager, so we can be assured that Pryor took from his fellow studio bums(that being Banta and Hylands, and even Justin Ring). We are lucky to be able to see what he took from them, as even rags like Banta's "Ragged William" sound like some of Pryor's rags. 

take a listen:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WxWWOq9CJIM

Banta's style was pretty similar to Pryor's, in the way that both their styles were naturally manifested.

what the %$#* does that mean?

(naturally manifested)

In this case it means that both of them had a style that was not strictly taught and fostered by traditional methods. They were naturally drawn to their styles by high musical abilities, like perfect pitch and perfect rhythm. We know Banta had perfect pitch(thanks Dan Quinn!), though we can't say for sure whether Pryor had either of those things, it's at least likely one of them had him. These two studio ramblers were not really that different, it's just that one(Banta) was confined to the studio for more reasons than just being contracted. Banta had the awful curse of being weakly built and having asthma, so there's another(more horrific and depressing) reason Banta seems to many of us like he was chained up to the studios. Pryor was more of a virtuoso of course, and had the Sousa band and his own to manage and go give frequent concerts, unlike Banta who didn't really do too much outside orchestra work(though he did do some). 

Anyway, I could go on and on, it seems my next post is beginning to take shape after comparing Hager with Pryor, and adding Banta in there. really get into some Arthur Pryor if you can, nothing is bad, ever, it's shocking really. 

Hope you enjoyed this! Sorry posts have become out of whack in frequency...

Recording Muzzles and Razors in the air--early stories from Fred Gaisberg

Yes indeed, Fred Gaisberg, the teenager dropped into the wild and woolly recording business in its earliest days. 

Many of us have had the opportunity to read from his diaries of trekking through Europe and Asia with Sinkler Darby, and have thoroughly enjoyed his vivid and witty descriptions of Madrid and the French countryside. Before all of that across the pond, he had a well-established life and recording career in the U.S. Someone in my immediate record collecting community has yet to buy a copy of Gaisberg's memoir written in the 1930's. Any time an original copy of his original book comes up somewhere, it is always sold for an extreme amount of money, an amount that no record collector in reality could afford to pay on a single item. Some of the information in his book(that is quoted everywhere), reminds us that the book is certainly worth the 2,000 or more of any currency it's worth. The amount of fantastic stories and anecdotes that Gaisberg told in his books are certainly worth the money paid. 

When speaking with Charlie Judkins last weekend, it seems that he finally got a hold of one of the books about Gaisberg(The one called A Voice in Time). It's not the infamously rare and valuable one, but it's the one that was about his life and travels in America, to Europe, and Asia. Of course, the "good stuff" to the two of us was certainly the tales he told from 1890's Washington. According to all sources(including him) he began working at the Columbia Phonograph company in 1889, which would have made him their first official studio pianist. Also, keep in mind that he was 16 when they hired him. He had no idea what he was getting himself into, and this is clear by the way that he described the very beginning. The thing that really got us hooked was of course his tales of Len Spencer from the very beginning. Amid his early days working there, it didn't take long for him to run into all of the limited amount of talent Columbia employed at the time. One of the first figures he met with was of course "the handsome Len Spencer"(hmm?Okay...) as he once stated. This story reveals a whole lot about Spencer, what we have often expected from him, and what turned out to be true. 

Gaisberg did not specify the office of Columbia, but he stated that he was at Pennsylvania Avenue(obviously Columbia's old headquarters), so it's hard to not know what he meant by that. He stated that the first time he met Spencer, Spencer was signing autographs for a group of "admiring darkies"(black kids) for a few cents each. Wow. Didn't really expect Spencer to have a black fan base. The image of him doing that really is kind of heart-warming, yet a little unexpected so early on in his recording. This is the sort of thing that we'd expect from Spencer in the exhibition days of Columbia in the late-90's. The fact that he was doing this so early on says a lot not only about him, but early Columbia. This was when Columbia had very slim management, and when those passing by the studio would gather outside the steps and essentially get a free concert. So with this, it seems groups of black kids built admiration for Spencer's singing, convinced he was black until they saw him. That really is somewhat surprising, since we wouldn't normally expect such offensive and stereotypical songs as Spencer's repertoire to be at all appreciated by the black community. Well, apparently we were wrong. This is one of those occasions that could very well change our viewpoint of what blacks thought of their own culture and society in the U.S. Makes me wonder what the black people who came to exhibitions thought of meeting with Spencer. Like any time encountering him, it must have been interesting, and slightly shocking. Again, our understanding of Spencer's relationship with black people has officially been changed with this new information. 

With all of this, we also have learned that Spencer not only had a black fan base, but also embodied many of the black stereotypes he spoke of so often on records. Other than just enough looking the part with his mess of curly brown hair and gaudy gold chains, he was a dedicated gambler. 

Of course, now that I know this, it seems I think now that Spencer dragged Hylands into gambling all their profits and such during the publishing firm. Yes, it seems likely that Hylands already had a taste for gambling, but after Spencer came along, that seemed to have inevitably been boosted. 
We know of Spencer as a rough-and-tumble sort of figure, more so than any of the early recording stars, with that scar on his face at whatnot. Contrary to what I have written previously on this matter regarding Spencer, it seems Gaisberg told the story of his scar differently. 

It's a little different than I had previously been told, but it's actually better the way Gaisberg told it. 
Here's how he spoke about Spencer, including the razor fight, and everything else:

Perhaps because of his unsavory reputation, my particular pet and hero of mine was the handsome Len Spencer. His father, the originator of the florid Spencerian handwriting, was the chief bugbear of thousands of schoolboys, myself included. The son had many and varied gifts. As a popular baritone, I accompanied him at concerts and for record-making. I first saw him seated at a small table in Pennsylvania Avenue, surrounded by admiring darkies, writing out visiting cards at six for a dime. His beautiful, ornate Spencerian writing, ending up with two doves, looked like engraving. Later I was always to remember his handsome face disfigured by a scar, the result of a razor-slash in an up-river gambling brawl. He was said to have been an adroit poker-player. His records of "Anchored", "Sailing", "The Palms", and "Nancy Lee" were important items of our repertoire. 

Well, there ya have it, Spencer in a nutshell. It's really surprising how much admiration he had for him, despite his certainly wild nature. Also, the way that he words his relationship with Spencer in the studio is also particularly interesting, "my particular pet and hero", especially since he's referring to recording for Columbia so early on. If we had a description of Spencer's relation with Issler or Hylands from a little later, I have the feeling that we'd hear something dramatically different. Issler would think of Spencer like an assistant and engineer, much like how Gaisberg was to Berliner. Hylands would have thought of Spencer like a sidekick to his rough-and-tumble antics(though Spencer was what stabilized their friendship). 
Without a doubt, Gaisberg understood how to best describe Spencer's beautiful script.

It certainly was like an engraving. 

Before all of that was written in the book, Gaisberg told his story of being with Sousa as a child:
I also sung in Sousa's choir, which was organised for Sunday evening concerts, and I attended rehearsals in his then modest home in the Navy Yard in south Washington. He patted me on the head and made quite a pet of me... I can still see the small room that one entered direct from the street, and a very old "tin-panny" square piano from which he conducted rehearsals. In hot weather the front door used to be left open and a circle of negro children would surround the entrance, silently enjoying the music we made. 
...
On Saturday afternoons in the spring and summer, the Marine Band formerly gave concerts on the lawn in the grounds of the White House... I was one of those music-mad youngsters who hovered by his podium and never missed a concert. On windy days his music used to become unmanageable, and he would turn round and beckon to me. It was then my pride to stand beside him to turn over and hold down the music. 

How great is that? Imagine little Gaisberg tagging along behind Sousa and the Marine Band. Everything about that is heartwarming and comical. It's funny that Gaisberg was accompanist to Quinn, who was also a choir boy until about age 12. Quinn probably told him that early on, and caused some surprise to Gaisberg. Imagining Sousa bitching at ten-year-old Gaisberg about his music not co-operating  at a concert is fantastic to the highest degree. It doesn't get much better than that, in terms of stories relating to early recording stars. 
His first time hearing of and meeting Berliner is also fantastic:

It was Billy Golden who asked me one day... If I would go with him to see a funny German who had started experimenting with a flat-disc talking machine records and wanted to make some trials. I was only too eager to see him at work. 
We found Emile Berliner in his small laboratory on New York avenue and received a warm welcome from the inventor. Billy was right, Berliner certainly did make me smile. Dressed in a monkish frock he paced up and down the small studio buzzing on a diaphragm[nice pun there Fred].
"Hello! Hello!" he recited in guttural, broken English. "Tvinkle, tvinkle, little star, how I vonder vot you are."

Hmm. How unexpected of Billy Golden. Normally, we wouldn't expect such a thing from him, but certainly he was well aware of everything that was going on in the early business. Being at Columbia meant for that in the first place, since they were the ones who invented the dubbing/pantographing process. Even for a hick, Golden knew his way around in the business. 
Here's how Gaisberg described his first session with Berliner(on the day that he and Golden called):

Berliner placed a muzzle over Golden's mouth and connected this up by a rubber hose to a diaphragm. I was at the piano, the sounding-board of which was also boxed up and connected to the diaphragm by a hose resembling an elephant's trunk. Berliner said "Are you ready?" and upon our answering "Yes", he began to crank like a barrel-organ, and said "Go." 
The song finished, Berliner stopped cranking. He took from the machine a bright zinc disc and plunged it into an acid bath for a few minutes. Then, taking it out of the acid, he washed and cleaned the disc. Placing it on the reproducing machine, also operated by hand like a coffee-grinder, he played back the the resulting record from the etched groove. 
To our astonished ears cam Billy Golden's voice. Berliner proudly explained to us just how this method was superior to the phonograph. He said that in his process the recording stylus was vibrated laterally on a flat surface, thus always encountering an even resistance, and this accounted for a more natural tone. 
Acquainted as I was with the unnatural reproduction of the old cylinder-playing phonographs, I was spell-bound by the beautiful round tone of the flat gramophone disc. Before I departed that day I exacted a promise from Berliner that he would let me work for him when his machine was ready for development. 

And a few months later, he received a card from Berliner asking him to come along to his lab once again, to officially make some records. Well, it seems we know why early Berliner records sounded to great now. This strange and horrific sounding method of using muzzles and all of these tubes was the ticket to the signature Berliner sound, which as we know, was clear and full in the beginning. This is why we get fantastic records like Quinn's 1895 Berliner of "The Streets of Cairo". Now that we know all of that, we can all picture this strange method being done with those earliest Berliners. Another with this, not with piano though, is one of George Graham's first records, his "Street Fakir" from 1896. That muzzle was right there, and this is why it sounds like the speaker and piano were right in front of the diaphragm. 

Also! Here's his description of getting Graham to record for Berliner:

Then there was George Graham... a member of and Indian Medicine Troupe doing one-night stands in the spring and summer and in winter selling quack medicines at the street corners. His tall, lanky figure, draped in a threadbare Prince Albert coat and adorned with a flowing tie, his wide-brimmed Stetson hat and his ready stream of wit combined to extract the dimes and nickels from his simple audience in exchange for a bottle of coloured water. 
I discovered him one day on the corner of Seventh and Pennsylvania Avenue selling a liver cure to a crowd of spell-bound negroes. He was assisted by John O'Terrell, who strummed the banjo and sang songs to draw the crowd. I brought this pair to Emile Berliner. Always a student of humanity, he was delighted... George recorded...his famous talk on "Liver Cure" in which he cited the instance of a sick man taking one bottle of his liver cure, and when he died the liver was so strong that they had to take it out kill it with a club.

Yep, that was this guy:

The image that Gaisberg pieces together with Graham is really very vivid, and puts us right there at where he found him. Of course, this is ever more tangible by seeing the two picture we have of him. It's all fitting together. 

His description of Charlie Tainter is also one of the best articulated of his character descriptions in this early portion. Here's a picture before the description:

That's him in the late-1870's. 

Charles Sumner Tainter was a scientist as well as mechanical genius. I can see him now working at a watch-makers lathe with a glass to his eye; he had a touch as delicate as a woman's. I never knew anyone who lived so abstemiously...
Tainter was an Englishman an a confirmed tea-drinker. Indeed, he taught me how to brew and enjoy it. The perfume of that special China blend of his haunts me still. Between the cups he would mount the diaphragm and adjust the angle of the cutting stylus. In his clear Yorkshire voice he would test them with:
"Caesar, Caesar, can you hear what I say---this, which; s-ss-sss."
The stress was alway laid on the sibilants, these being the most difficult sounds to record. In playing back the test, at the slightest indication of the "s" sound, he would smile with joy and treat himself to another cup. 

Certainly one of the best characters who Gaisberg truly admired, more than most of us would think, since Tainter hadn't much to do with Gaisberg early on. 

Before I finish, here's his full description of AtLee, who turned out to be his very first project while employed at Columbia in 1889:

[AtLee's]pompous announcements which introduced each performance in tones that made the listener visualise a giant. In reality he was a mere shrimp of a man, about five feet in his socks, that little government clerk with a, deep powerful voice.Of this and his fine flowing moustache he was mighty proud. After his office hours, from nine to four, as a wage-slave of the U. S. Government, he would return to his modest home where I would join him. In the parlour stood an old upright piano and a row of three phonographs lent to him by the Columbia Phonograph Company. Together we would turn out, in threes, countless records of performances of "Whistling Coon", "The Mocking bird" and "The Laughing song". I can still hear that reverberating announcement:

"THE MOCKINGBIRD" BY JOHN YORKE ATLEE, ARTISTIC WHISTLER, ACCOMPANIED BY PROFESSOR GIASBERG.

I was then only sixteen, some professor...

AtLee has pretty much seemed exactly the same in other descriptions of him out there, not much is different from what we've already heard, but of course, Gaisberg's diction is priceless. It seems as though working for AtLee was horrid for him, though it must have secretly been a joy. 

There were more stories, but that will make this post just as unmanageable as Sousa's music blowing in the wind, so I'll stop here. 

Hope you enjoyed this!