The Mystery Box and Blue American records

Well, what a week it's been! 

Hot damn this has been quite a week for records on my end. Whew!

This last Thursday, I took a trip over to my favorite antique store, thinking there may be something there, as I hadn't gone in about a month. I usually like to go to this place once a month or more if there are interesting lots of things to pick through. Never could I have anticipated the sort of things I'd be picking up that day...

This place I go to is one that I have frequented rather often for the last 6 months or so, grabbing piles of records and other old things of interest. I have gotten a ridiculously good stash of records overall from this place, but of course the only records I was getting, or ever saw from this place were disc records. I was just grabbing all the records, asking no questions and remaining modest and quiet when digging and later buying them. Since I've been going so often to this place, the proprietors have become familiar with the the sort of old things I'm looking for. 

After 6 months of stacking up the disc records from this place, with all colors and rarities of the phonographic rainbow, I finally asked the owner if there were any cylindrical records. The moment he told me there were some stashed up in the house(away from the customers poking around), he made me wait a little while. He had to go drop something off for one of the local customers, but with the promise he made, I was so anxious it was hard to maintain my antique store poker face. I waited about 20 minutes poking around mindlessly, as this was after I combed through all the usual spots here. When he came back, he went upstairs to grab a box of cylinders. 

I still was able to keep my cool as I opened the box and saw a few curious French brown waxes that weren't Pathé's. I inspected those thoroughly, and was interested, but of course I had no idea of their value, but I planned to buy them anyway. 

As I kept digging in this box, there were layers of records stacked on one another. There was a curious old looking case right under these French rarities, it looked to be from the 1890's. I was still keeping my poker face pretty constantly at this point, but it broke in a snap when I opened that old box. 

When I saw what was inside I just about screamed, I threw my hands up and nearly tore the 110 year old sleeves on my coat. 

That's what was inside. 

All brown wax, and only one of them was so moldy it can barely be saved. Unfortunately, as I started digging through all the slips and inspecting each record, a percentage of them were broken. But! despite that, I became passionately determined to take them all. That includes every last shard and piece of brown wax I could find. All the old slips were scattered around in the box and I kept looking over those to get some sort of idea of what was in this box. There were some interesting titles there. All the titles were handwritten in pen, in an almost familiar Spencerian script. The most tantalizing slip I saw in the batch was this one here: 

Yep, that's definitely a good sign. 

A brown wax with that title could either have been and original Hunting or a later Jim White take. That writing looks familiar doesn't it?

When I finally got through the box, I took 7 of them home with me after paying the owner. I was too afraid to grab them all at once, as I had a long and somewhat bumpy ride back home. 

I wasn't originally going to do anything the following day, but I became so bubbly over what sort of titles were in the first batch of 7. So the next day I got up early and got over to the place earlier than usual, to grab the rest of the old box of records and go. I spent no extra time this go around, the records needed to get home to be played and correctly identified. Don't get too worried, I only played the announcements and maybe a little more to get what they were and stored them back in their cozy 1890's box. Every one of these beauties was covered in dust, but under the dust, there's no mold or anything, just flawless recordings all from a very specific period of time. 

So after I finally spent several hours trying to get all of these correctly paired with the matching old slips, I got more into the strange circumstances of this almost flawless box of brown wax. 

So here are a few interesting things about this box:

-They are all Columbia's

-All from 1895-1899

-All the slips are written in pen

-there are two of each artist(almost)

-there's a lot of Len Spencer related selections

-no mold anywhere

-all the same shade of brown wax

-there's quite a variety of selections, from sacred to hot rag-time

-all the titles on the slips are abbreviated like Columbia studio slips I've seen

This box was carefully put together. Someone had quite varied tastes in records. These records were originally sold by Allen Koenigsberg, probably over a decade ago to this collector in Berkeley. The collector's name was on lots items I had previously picked up from this place, so without a doubt these brown wax beauties belonged to him at some point. 

Funny accompanying story, when I bought that batch of Berliners and Zon-O-Phone's from this place, I noticed that most of them were kept in distinct yellow sleeves from Kurt Nauck. With that, I contacted Mr. Nauck about these records, and he promptly told me to whom he sold the records. This collector in Berkeley died a few years ago, so it seems that all of these extremely valuable records were dropped off at this antique store I frequent. 

So the fact that these brown waxes came from Koenigsberg would make sense, since they are so outstanding and prime examples of mid-1890's recordings. 

So all of this is great without a doubt, but what was in the mystery box? I spent hours attempting to grab all the titles on these records, and match the slips with the proper record, as they seemed to have been scattered when I found them. At the current time I still have not gotten all the slips to match every single record, as I do not have a very good phonograph to present them in a decent fashion. I have only an 1898 Columbia Q that is definitely not a high quality machine, but I can play brown wax on it safely. So do not expect any transfers from me soon...
The first one I was anxious to play when I got home was of course the "Casey" sketch. That record was far more intriguing and valuable than I could have ever expected. Hunting's records alone are very rare, especially the brown waxes he made. But one thing is for sure, his pre-1897 cylinders are the most desirable of them. Well it turns out that this one in the mystery box was one of them. This cylinder was recorded probably in late-1895 or early 1896, before he got arrested with Charlie Carson for the smut cylinder scandal. It's got that same pristine sound quality as the few Original Hunting's that are online, such as this one:
https://ia802308.us.archive.org/4/items/RussellHunting/RussellHunting-CaseyattheTelephone.mp3
Now think about this, the record I got was recorded right there with Hunting. It was made under his own supervision, it was in the recording room with him, and he recorded directly onto that surface that I can now hold and handle. 

This is exactly why brown wax is so intriguing in a way that no other recordings are. If the record is old enough, it was likely recorded directly on by the recording star who's on it. The record witnessed the musicians and performers in person, and depending on the performer may have been handled by that very performer. This adds a level of personal touch that later records from this time just don't have. This is exactly why this Hunting record in the mystery box is so valuable to me in particular. 

There were several records by Len Spencer in this box. There were as follows:
"What Shall the Harvest Be" from 1896-97
"My Gal is a High Born Lady" with Ossman, 1897
"Crappy Dan" with Ossman, 1897
"-----Honey Boy" with Hylands 1898(I couldn't get the title of this one very well but it's likely something called "Lucinda Does you Love yer Honey Boy?")
Of course since these records are all Columbia's from around the same time, as to be expected, there are quite a few of them with Len Spencer announcements, which is perfectly fine for me!

There were two standout Edward M. Favor records in this box. Usually the Edward Favor records that collectors have are his Zon-O-Phone's from 1900-1903, and his Edison records from the late-1900's. But I assure you these two Favor's were the rarest and most desirable of all the kinds he made. Both of these Favor records are from 1896. They both had that distinct "...of New York City" announcement(as 80 per cent or so of these records have) and that beautiful clear piano accompaniment that was on those Columbia's he made in 1896. The two records sound exactly like this record here:
http://cylinders.library.ucsb.edu/search.php?queryType=@attr+1=1020&num=1&start=1&query=cylinder11859
Same pianist, same recording room, and overall beautiful quality. 
The titles unfortunately I could not make out just yet, and they are hard to match with the remaining slips. 
There was a Gaskin, Steve Porter, and a surprisingly clear Will F. Denny record. 
The Gaskin is a really pretty love song titled "Answer", with that pristine mid-1890's Columbia recording quality. The Steve Porter is an unusual one titled "She Lives on the Same Street with Me". The Denny is a very distinctly early 1897 Columbia titled "Then and Now". 
There were two Clarinet solos by William Tuson which really got me excited! I have a lot of love for those Issler soloists, as they were fantastic musicians that really stood out from the rest of the musicians in the orchestras. 
The two Tuson's were "Southern Plantation Echoes" from 1897 and "Old Black Joe" from 1897-98. Both of these records are online, but the ones I got in the mystery box are definitely different takes. There are some distinct differences between my takes and the ones I've heard online, which is great! To give you an idea, here are the two Columbia takes of these online:
"Old Black Joe"
"Southern Plantation Echoes"
My take of "Southern plantation echoes" is the longest one of the takes I've heard. It hovers right around the three minute mark and there's another chorus of the Tapioca played at the end. The clarinet and piano also alternate playing the Tapioca toward the end which is a really nice added touch. This take also sounds really nice, even on my crappy cheap old Columbia. 
There were a few Columbia orchestra records in the box too, such as an 1897 take of "Ecstasy Waltz"(with a cornet solo by Tom Clark!), and a curious recording of an unnamed "lanciers". 
There was also a super nice early 1897 take of "Stars and Stripes forever" by Sousa's Band, which added a nice touch to all the obscurities in the box. 
I know I'm missing a few to describe here, but I really want to get to the next part of this post. I will do another post once I know what everything is and when I know I can get decent electric transfers of them. I have already been given and offer to get them transferred!





All-right then!

Yesterday I had a serious aha! moment. Amid a moment of thoughtless listening(this is usually how is goes...), I realized something big. 
Many collectors try to grab those Blue American records when they can, as they're very attractive records that stand out from all others in pre-1910 recordings. I have quite a stack of them myself, this hot one included:

I am always amazed at their beauty. 
(in case you're wondering, this curious record is basically like one of Spencer's brown waxes with Hylands but half a decade later!)
Last night I went back and listened to the handful of American records that are online, and was reminded of how hot and tight their house orchestra was. Their orchestra was called the regimental band of the republic, which is quite a generic name for a studio ensemble. No one really knows who they were, as this company was shrouded in secrecy, but for good reason. They were started by a few sketchy Edison employees in 1904, but somehow these sketchy Edison workers managed to create the best sounding records of the era. Their records boom in ways that others just didn't! And how their orchestra did just that, and more!
so as many have been long wondering, who was the regimental band of the republic? Well, you know what, I may have come to a possible answer. 
That orchestra was just absolutely outstanding to all the other studio groups, with familiar sounding musicians. Who do they sound like the most?

Hager. 

Of course! It made so much sense once I started thinking through ways that could prove this idea. Before I go forth with the explanation, here are a few of their records:
Perhaps the hottest ever, "a Southern Belle(Cake-walk)"

"Cocoanut Dance"(written 1891)

"Princess Pocahontas"(buck dance)

Hager's own "Handsome Harry"

"1863 medley"

So why would it make sense that Hager could have led this this orchestra? They recorded "Handsome Harry" to start, which is Hager's piece from 1904. Of all the record insiders Hager would make the most sense in terms of having his hand in this mysterious and dreaded record company. Hager was part of the Climax scramble in 1901-1902, as he was working for Columbia-Climax-Zonophone when the tensions were boiling hot, but he was taking his orchestra to the more reliable and better quality Climax and Zon-O-Phone instead of Columbia. He managed to escape the battles over patents and record talent unscathed, but he gained ever more knowledge of the recording ropes and where the best fortune would be. With this heightened knowledge, Hager would have seen the great opportunities that American possessed. 
The sound of the orchestra on American nearly mirrors Hager's Zon-O-Phone orchestra from the same time period. This frame of 1904-1907 is also when Hager was working the most overall, so maybe this American notion went into his crowded work schedule. 
Also, I may add that the "1863 Medley" listed above sounds like many of hager's arrangements that were written down and the ones that were played at Zon-O-Phone around the same time. By this I'm meaning a tune of his like this one:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QrdarM0xKgs
Indeed so. 

Now all of this is very tantalizing indeed, but it's just a possibility. No one really knows what was the deal with those American records, and another thing that particularly intrigues collectors of them is that orchestra announcer. That announcer was always so unenthusiastic and not theatrical about the announcements. It's a very familiar voice though, very recognizable to those who own some of these American records. That announcer very well could be someone in the band. But think about who would be right there with no instrument to keep his mouth shut...



Anyway, I think I'll end it here. I really want to do another blog post this week but I'll be traveling for a week, back this following Tuesday. When I return however, I will be giving a lecture on Hager! Let's hope that turns out all-right, there's quite a lot to cover with his long story...

Hope you enjoyed this!

Picture analysis and deconstructing Frank Banta's style

Now that we have a much clearer picture of Fred Hylands, it be time to go back and look at the studio pictures with unknown pianists and pick him out. That infamous Columbia picture now makes much more sense because of that clear picture of Hylands, because we can now all come together in seeing that the pianist in the background is indeed Hylands. 

Despite now being able to fully see that the pianist is Hylands, we still can't yet answer how he changed so much from that time to the time of the exhibition picture: 

Even with that rather amazing change, we still cannot answer the question of how. I guess we can call this dilemma one of the many Rag-Time mysteries that us record scholars and Rag-Timers have to solve. We know that he looked pretty rough toward the end of his life, thanks to the two new pictures, and I guess such awful times while at Columbia would be a reason for this. More and more we are realizing that Hylands was truly an 1890's character, despite the "second-wind" he caught in the 1900's performing on Broadway and in Vaudeville. We know also that this second go around he had after 1900 slimmed him out over time, which is good, but this slimming down was forced on him by illnesses and constant touring(he toured in the mid west starting in 1905 and ended around 1909). It must have been a great help that he was a theater director in this period of time as well. 

Just to really get into finally proving this thing once and for all, here's a detail of the picture:

Now that we're pretty certain his hair was vibrant red, we now look to the more minute details. 

Notice the same long sloped ears on both pictures(it's hard to see in the c.1897 picture...)

Take note of the flushed areas around the cheekbones, there appears to be that in both pictures. In the 1897-ish picture the shadows are at just about the line where these flushed cheeks would be visible, and despite those dark shadows, we can still see signs of variation in color. One thing I've been trying to figure out in the handful of weeks I've had this new picture drawing new cartoons of Hylands, is whether those flushed cheeks were speckled with freckles, which they may very well have been, but thanks to re-touching we can't tell. 

It's been a part of my descriptions of Hylands since the beginning, that crooked mouth he had, and it truly was a sight to behold it turns out(it's especially weird in the exhibition picture for some reason).The few times he spoke on records he was hard to understand, and since he did do some singing(if you at all are skeptical of this, think of his role as a Broadway performer, this would require that he sing, and occasionally do some tricky footwork believe it or not), his voice(the one we assume to be his)carried surprisingly well for an early recording star. In the 1897-ish picture we see the "better side" of that weird mouth, but if you really look at both pictures it's the same awkward structure. This really leads me to think he had some kind of Winston Churchill like speech impediment, especially if one side, as can be observed, drooped downward. It's rather funny actually how clearly that droopy side of his mouth can be seen in the exhibition picture in exactly the same way in the 1912 picture. 

Now I don't think I need to say anything about that curious nose, it pretty much explains all that needs to be said in the pictures. I must say though, that curious nose of his looks much better in profile(1897 picture). Again, he had a really weird profile. Of all these performers I draw in cartoons, his profile is the weirdest looking of them all, I have yet to see a profile as magnificent as well as comical as Hylands'. 

Thanks to the picture of his sister Etta, we know that those pleading droopy eyes ran in the family.

Etta had a little bit of that weird mouth thing, but at least it manifested rather gracefully on her, rather than a little out of whack with Fred. 

It's still hard to beat those desperate looking eyes, even though they look made to wear strong gold pince-nez glasses. He looks like his eyesight was crap. Not often do people look like that have bad eyesight, but when you can see it, you know it. With Hylands, it appears his bad eyesight was ever visible. With those likely ocean blue eyes sunken in shadows, usually they would be exaggerated by glasses, as for example the way they are in the exhibition picture. You can see the shadows over those wide eyes in the 1897 ish picture that are ever present in the other pictures definitively identified as Hylands. 

I guess there's no more need to debate who that pianist is in that 1897-ish studio picture, even with the baggage of change of his figure from that to the exhibition picture, we can now be assured that he worked for Columbia some time in 1897. Now that we are assured this, we can go on to say that he worked at Columbia during the day and did his shows and management at Pastor's theater by night. Recall that he lived across the street from Pastor's in 1897 and 1898, so he was conveniently located for sure. 

Now to move to a similar subject matter, Frank P. Banta. 

Such a kind and warm face...

Within the past week or so, I've been digging into Santa Barbara's new transfers, as there are so many new ones it's entirely overwhelming. There's one in particular that has been sparking new ideas about Banta's playing. I've said a lot about Banta's style in the past, since he's more well known, and has a distinct style that's near as outstanding as Hylands'. Before I get into the analysis, here's the specific record I'm talking about: 

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

It's an outstanding example of brown wax rag-time, just need to get that out first. This record is a classic example of Banta's entirely solid and well-founded syncopated style. It helps that the performer is Billy Golden, so then it is assured that the song will be folksy and full of itinerant aspects. This particular selection brings out the weirdest of Banta, and not would I have thought I'd be saying that about Banta. According to most records we've heard with Banta's accompaniment, they're pretty restrained and not nearly as wild as those rough folk characteristics of Hylands. This particular record is outstanding from other Banta records because of a significant mistake he makes. 

WHAT! 

Yes indeed, Banta makes a few significant mistakes here. 

These mistakes are actually the same issue had more than once. Only three times have I heard Banta make this mistake he makes on this record. On this record, he completely gets stumped by Golden's adding and subtracting of measures. This is no a bad thing however, it's not something to look at in a negative light. This sort of thing is what adds eccentricity and uniqueness to Banta's playing, even though(in this case), it may be the fault of Golden rather than of Banta. The song itself is really simple with melodies, and has little variation in chord changes and melodic progression, so that already is a sign of its folk classification, and Banta luckily does nothing but enhance the nature of this song. The first half of the record is not nearly as interesting as the second half. Most interesting part is perhaps what Banta does in the extended vamp between the whistling solo and the second verse. This is where the big mistake lies. Banta had likely assumed the vamp would only go for a certain number of bars, an even amount, but Golden elongates it and audibly throws Banta off at 1:40-1:45. Notice how the melody and chord changes are different this time around from the first time. There's the mistake. It's unintended variations, but if you sit down and really try to dissect it, it's actually really interesting, despite the jarring break in the nice steady rhythm. Also note how Banta plays non-syncopated riffs in his extended vamp before the melodic mistake, and how he stays on a "drone note" in the bass. That means that he's only playing a single note throughout the beats of the entire vamp. I have heard Banta do this before, which is curious, because it somewhat corresponds with his written music. This "drone note" concept is something that was unique to Banta, in terms of studio pianists, and it's a really telling characteristic. I'm not exactly sure where he would have acquired this odd habit, but it's likely a manifestation of the long-standing banjo imitation paired with his entirely itinerant musical upbringing. 

Take his "Ragged William" for example. There are hints of his "drone note" tendency in the piece, as well as his weird counting of rhythm and measures. So could it be possible that Banta was, at his musical core, more itinerant than Hylands? They all said that Banta was truly gifted(Dan W. Quinn for example), with perfect pitch and the ability to play anything having heard it once, and in any possible key. These are characteristics that yield a natural musical talent that would require little training from the start. Yes, Banta must have had some training, but in his case, he likely had little of it and he refused to rid of oddly acquired habits. Where's another example of this?

Just to point out another example of this extra measure nonsense, here's a 1901 example with Arthur Collins: 

http://cylinders.library.ucsb.edu/search.php?queryType=@attr+1=1020&num=1&start=1&query=cylinder5245

The issue is at exactly the same place as the Golden record, the vamp between the first verse and the chorus. 

Now this whole thing may just be an example of the singer and accompanist just disconnecting for a moment, but the combined nature of Banta's overall music writing and common tendencies, it actually opens up many more possibilities that we normally wouldn't think about with Banta. 

In keeping with the theme of hot Banta records, Santa Barbara recently put up another great take of "Go Way Back and Sit Down" by Denny:

http://cylinders.library.ucsb.edu/search.php?queryType=@attr+1=1020&num=1&start=1&query=cylinder5275

Both takes are absolutely fantastic, but the second one is the new transfer recently put up online. In this new alternate take, it seems Banta almost embodies the slightly exaggerated and pushy melodic style that was characteristic of Hylands and his Indiana style. Now it seems that like Hylands, Banta's style could change here and there, and why that is I would be afraid to say. Unlike Hylands, Banta wasn't an alcoholic. Banta was clean living as far as anyone knows. With the amount of respect I have for Banta, I'd hate to throw around any theories assuming such habits. This is especially so when considering his horrid asthma and weak stature. If anyone has any ideas as to why Banta's playing varied here and there, please throw in your input in the comments! 

As much as we know about Banta, he's still pretty mysterious in many aspects. We have no idea what he was like as a person. And there are no hints either. At least with Hylands we have a few letters and quotes to work with to piece together a hyper-intelligent eccentric who was rather egotistical, or a typical theatrical-artistic type if you will. With Banta there is nothing to work with, all we have are technical descriptions of the guy, and hundreds of records with only accompaniment. That sweet smile of his though must be a hint that he was a pretty kind and loving man, and this can be supported with the amount of praise studio workers had for him and how much open mourning there was when he died. He was obviously well respected, and someone like Edward Issler would have found much merit and charm in him, especially in the both of them being part of musicians' unions. 

Before I close out, I'd just like to say that it's interesting that Banta and Hylands had those inward poking cheeks. Usually when I see that I think back to that picture of Georgie Emerson, looking all beat-up and drug ridden. 

Usually such a characteristic leads me to assuming a bit of a drug dependency. With Hylands was know this is true, as he died at 40 for a reason. Banta was already not well-built physically, so maybe Banta needed something to mellow out that rigid intensity...

Sit on that for a while.

Hope you enjoyed this! Sorry it's been a month since the last post...Summer has begun, so hopefully that means more posts.

A Spencer Brown Wax

It seems Santa Barbara has been busy...
Two nights ago, I spent hours checking all of the records they had put up but hadn't transferred. That ended up being a great decision...since it kept me listening to many new records i had always wanted to hear. Among those were several outstanding transfers of George Schweinfest, Denny, and of course Spencer. The first person I checked however, as expected of me, would be Spencer. Santa Barbara has a few bundles of those 1897-1901 Columbias that Spencer made with Hylands, but next to none of them are transferred. When I checked, there were a few of them up, but one in particular has me perplexed. This brown wax has Spencer singing one of May Irwin's first hits. 

This tune, likely due to it being from 1893, is amongst some of the earliest overt "coon songs" of that era. See, consider this, I hypothesize the "coon song" era really started around 1895, as that's the point where we get the first hints of the specific term "rag" in the syncopated context. Anything before 1895 didn't really use "coon song" as a way to describe slightly syncopated(or overtly syncopated) songs about black America, before then we get the practically ancient descriptor "Ethiopian song"(ancient because it was used back to the 1820's-1830's). Before that we get more medleys of Negro Spiritual songs and reminiscent tunes of slavery days(unfortunately...).Here's a related example from 1895:

There we go! 
Even by 1895 Spencer was described like that on sheet music, not just records. So back to the record...
This record is mislabeled on the website, so it took a little doing to actually figure out what the tune really was, ending up seeing the sheet music pictured above to help. 
Here's the record:
(beware! it's really quiet)
http://cylinders.library.ucsb.edu/search.php?queryType=@attr+1=1020&num=1&start=1&query=cylinder13670
My first listen to this made me assume that it was recorded around 1897, thinking of the Columbia record number that it attached to it, but after a few more detailed listens, something changed about that assumption. It seemed that this record had more aspects of the earliest records Spencer made. Luckily, I have had the experience of listening to enough of Spencer's pre-1896 records to know that his singing style varied dramatically from say 1895 to 1898. So in first trying to figure this out, we've got to go back to the earliest example of Spencer that we know(or at least that I've heard). 
Spencer's 1892 Columbia of "A Curl from baby's Head"
Spencer's voice sounds very different from what we're all used to. I'm not sure if it's the record speed, but the way he's recorded makes him sounds almost like a different person. But there are aspects of the early record that are still present on the later record. One thing that I've pointed out before about Spencer's early singing is that it sounds much different, but the main thing is that his sense of pitch got better over time. There's no way to really know why his sense of pitch changed, any why the sincerity of his voice changed, but the clear difference is interesting to note. Now the fact that there are specific characteristics to Spencer's style on "Mamie...", this would indicate a date other than 1897 to be put on the table. The only reason my first intuition assumed 1897 was the heavy and clear syncopation. But of course, when thinking of these things, we cannot underestimate the years before 1897 in terms of records. With all this in mind, it seems even with the prominent syncopation that this Spencer record is likely from 1895-96. It's also helpful that there's no announcement(even though usually this would be a deterrent), as this would indicate that it's likely earlier than 1897. This is not always the case, but with rather early sounding piano accompaniment and great quality capturing of the voice and piano indicates an original record. Original records always sound better, no matter what any of the ads said in that time. Usually with originals, the quality is at least ten times better, and we sometimes get more worn down copies, such as the record being analyzed. This record has the classic issues with a typical original record, it's still high quality and sharp, but the fact that it was played quite often makes it quiet. 
Aside from trying to establish a date, if it is indeed from pre 1897, it's an important piece of Rag-Time on brown wax, and not just because all of May Irwin's specialties are. Other than more slight examples of early syncopation, such as Gaskin's 1896 Berliner of "All Coons Look Alike to Me" with Gaisberg, this particular Spencer record  takes the prize for the best example of overt Rag-Time before the craze "started" in 1897. Just about every line that Spencer sings in the verse is syncopated, really take a listen and tap something as you go along and see for yourself! Even before Spencer became fully immersed in the world of George W. Johnson and the black tenderloin lifestyle, his "negro" dialect was distinct and more untrained and lyrical than rough and slick. I mean, really listen to the overt and groovy syncopation of the first verse of the record! His younger voice is just so fascinating, especially because of the mystery that surrounds his early records, and the little bits we have of them only for reference. This particular example if full of syncopation, full on cake-walk rag syncopation, and it's loose and not unnatural or forced like Dan W. Quinn's often sounded. 
Now I have no idea who the pianist is on than Spencer record, since his singing is so loose and slick, the piano accompaniment kind of follows with that style. Since the year is likely pre-1897, this would mean Hylands had not yet changed the world of Spencer, and therefore the overt rough and unique rag style is not present in the accompaniment. Considering the date, it's most likely that Issler is the pianist. It's a bit more creative and strange to be Issler at first, but really, when we consider a few records we've heard with Spencer and Issler, it's not too far fetched. Issler, as we've come to learn, could get pretty wild at times, and had unexpected characteristics of a seemingly conservative bearded Bavarian music teacher. 

Even though Spencer and Hylands were unstoppable on records, we often overlook where Spencer started, working with Issler. Spencer was Issler's roadie for the orchestra, booking them for shows and helping them out all the time while in the studio and out. So it seems Issler and Spencer had something that wasn't really there while he worked so tirelessly with his musical lovechild Fred Hylands. Spencer was the more submissive part of the relationship while working with Issler, as opposed to his relationship with Hylands later. Issler took in Spencer at at time when the record companies they both worked for were brawling over patents, and provided both Columbia and U.S. with the most loyal and sure fire studio workers they could ever ask for. This is where we get records like that curious "Mamie! Come Kiss your Honey Boy" brown wax, that seems to stand out from most Spencer records, even from his gems with Hylands in 1899. 

Well, since that description took so long, I'll have to save the other records they put up on Santa Barbara for the next few posts, since it's quite a lot to process and discuss. This one record stood out, even though it's quiet and hard to hear, it's got the most fascinating aspects to it, especially to the quest for the earliest studio recorded syncopation, this one so far takes the cake. 

Hope you enjoyed this! 

A mystery Pianist and Columbia's Nonexistent Censorship

Who's that?

Exactly. 

That's all we know as of now. Hopefully by the end of this post, some of the mystery here will be sorted out. 

Now, while searching around the pages of Antique Phonograph Monthly this evening, I stumbled across this image:

Now it looks like any old studio picture that was made into a lithograph of some kind, much like those pictures from The Phonoscope. At first, the pianist I had assumed to be Hylands, just like most of the time, especially since the singer whose face we can see is Steve Porter. But that doesn't seem to look like Hylands... not nearly as... ...eh...stout as he was... 

But that profile... ... ...

That looks suspiciously like some other picture we know of:

Hmm... ... 

This is a real hard one. More so than any previous photographic findings. One thing that is for sure--that's Hylands' profile(the picture at the very top of this post).COME ON! This are his lips, they are both the same in that picture and the exhibition picture immediately above, same slicked back hair, chin and neck, intensely bright and reflective eyes, that distinctly nose, the overall height--it's all the strangest thing. I have not any idea of what to think of this, since it really does look like Hylands, but the weight is not there. It almost seems to me like the lithographer who drew out the image fixed around Hylands' figure, which seems unthinkable, but isn't impossible. Remember that retouching was a very common practice in photography in this time period, particularly in show business and entertainment. Of course, this seems just completely like a  far-fetched, outrageous, inconceivable theory, since most people who know of my almost obsession over Hylands would know that I'd chuck this sort of possibility immediately upon looking at the image. This is a special situation however. It seems weird of me to go off an say that this:

is Fred Hylands, but really, since it's a Lithograph, anything's possible. Also, if you really study the look of his clothing, you can kind of see a little more of Hylands in it. That's still not enough to prove it, it still seems laughable for me to even think that's Hylands. 

Come to think of it, it looks a little disproportionate if you really study the body structure of the figure, as well as the size of the upper arm.Who am I kidding, this is just a crazy theory, that probably none of you reading this believe. If you do think it's Hylands, PLEASE COMMENT ON THIS POST! I would love to hear other voices in this conversation, because there's no way I can figure this out on my own. 

Do note that the pianist is VERY tall. 

Whatever becomes of this, I REALLY  hope that's Hylands, because if so, he was better-looking than I thought!

*Again, PLEASE share your thoughts about the pianist in this image, they are mightily appreciated in this circumstance, more so than any other time I've asked for feedback*

Now to move to something also Columbia related! It's clear that Columbia had their own sort of "Clan" in the 1890's, with Russell Hunting as its leader and founder. Hunting was the king of the crass humor and little censorship that makes many early Columbia records charming and attractive to younger listeners, even in the modern terms. Many things slipped out on these early Columbia's, not only countless mistakes from the distracted piano player(Hylands), but well-hidden obscene humor, such as that of both Spencer's. Someone like Dan W. Quinn refused to let any of these things cause him trouble in the studio, and with that, many takes of his must have had to be redone. However, when we move to figures like Gaskin, that's a different story.

Gaskin is becoming an ever more interesting character than previously thought. Not only was he an advocate for George W. Johnson, but since he dealt with oppression of the Irish, he had time to become self-aware and wise about suffering and discrimination. Gaskin was poor Irish scum. Roger Harding was well-to-do Irish. That right there says everything about Gaskin's outlook, and how he was viewed by even his colleagues in the business. Gaskin pretty much personified all Irish stereotypes, from the weird and crooked speech with a thick dialect, to the firey red hair and steel blue eyes. Gaskin also didn't care a rap about messing up often on recordings, which seems strange to say since his records seem all fine when thinking that over at first, but there are a few recordings that could change our preconceptions of Gaskin. One record in particular caught my attention, and it was posted just this week. 

Before the analysis, here's Gaskin's 1898-ish recording of "Drill Ye Tarriers Drill"(with Hylands). This recording is very interesting(despite the fact that it's played too fast). Now this seems like just any crazy Columbia record from the late-1890's, with all of the aspects loud and clear, especially the piano! Not only is Hylands' playing really great, especially at the end when he plays his whole Irish jig thing that he used to do on many records by Quinn and Gaskin, but one thing Gaskin says really caught my attention. If you know about Gaskin's routine with this song, you'll know that he did the usual protocol when the singers said "hell" on recordings. Quinn exemplified this by always saying "h-well!", and Collins and Harlan never said the word flat out. You may notice that Gaskin on this take just above actually says the word. 

Oh--the boss was a fine man all around,

but he married a great big fat fall down.

She baked good bread, she baked it well,

---she baked it hard as the hearts of hell.

Yes folks, that is what Gaskin sings on this recording. That is what makes this take so unique, as the other takes by Gaskin have him not even saying "Hell" in the lyrics. On his famous Berliner you can hear this. 

He says on the Berliner:

she baked good bread, she baked it well,

she baked it hard, well I won't tell!

This small thing really says a whole lot about Columbia compared to other record companies. It backs up the fast that Columbia was a much more liberally run company that others of the time, and that Emerson didn't care about small ticks like this, despite the fact that Edison would overreact to things like this. A few recordings were deleted almost immediately from the Edison catalog because someone at the playback thought they heard "hell" in the lyrics, but really that's not what the singer(Will F. Denny by the way) actually said. Emerson probably couldn't care less about Gaskin or anyone saying that on recordings. It must be noted that Columbia released something called their "tough series" in 1899-1900, which included "The Side Show Shouter" and early takes of Spencer's "The Dog Fight". These recordings were along the lines of Gaskin carelessly saying "hell" on a recording, from around the same time. Even after Hunting went to prison, and went out overseas, the boys back at home still held on to the humor he helped influence. 

I hope you 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!