Recent Research Travels

In the last week and a half, I have been on quite a journey, to Southern California. 

Just over a week ago, I returned from a 5 day trip via train to Santa Barbara and then to Los Angeles proper. I mentioned at the very end of my last post that i would be visiting UCSB, and that's exactly what I did. In the weeks leading up to my visit, I spent hours combing through the lists of what Santa Barbara's library holds in terms of early disc records, picking out things I wanted to see when I visited. The requests kept piling up, until I had about 40 records to listen to when I called. The amount of records were astounding, so many things that ought to be beautiful, and how they were. After a day of frustrating but in the end pleasant train travel the previous day, I finally found my way to where the special collections are kept on campus, I was led to their modest reading room overlooking the beautiful mountains. I was entirely at peace, sitting there in the quiet listening to these 40 or so records, and writing notes down on each one, it was heavenly. 

I don't want to share every single image I
took of these records, as it's quite a few, but these are a few of the standouts from the little collection I requested:

(yes I took pictures of every record I requested, just for my personal reference)

(Keep in mind that this is nowhere near everything else I heard from the stack)

So...why did I go through so much to do this? What would be the point of doing this if i couldn't take the transfers with me? Well, as I stated above, I took very detailed notes on each record, more particularly the Zon-O-Phone's. The reason I went though as much as I did to come and see these records was to study two dozen early Zon-O-phone's to try and build a better foundation for the 2(or three) pianists that worked for Zon-O-phone from 1899-1907(or so). For example, when I picked out the records to listen to, I specifically chose a few doubles of the same song by different artists, but on the same label. The most telling example I chose were 2 versions of "strike up the band, here comes the sailor". The versions I chose were both recorded on Zon-O-phone in the same year, but by Edward M. Favor and Billy Heins(I posted a picture of the Heins version above). One thing that became very evident about these takes was that it was certainly the same pianist on both of them. But what does that mean?

Well, I am recalling now how I described one of the takes in my notebook, one take was much more precise and took stranger risks at the times for solos. The take I was previously more familiar with was the Heins take, with the familiar and extremely well executed "sailor's hornpipe" at the very end, the Favor take had this ending also, but somehow they found the time to place the same tag in the middle of the record!(very hastily and sloppily I might add). You can hear a not too great transfer here: 

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8eNE07ozZ38

This take is the better one overall, much better composed and thought out, the accompaniment anyway, Heins was always great. The two choruses of "sailor's hornpipe" seemed very improvised on the Favor take as I'm recalling now. But it's assuring to know that it's the same pianist on both, which isn't entirely surprising, but good to know. 

So did I come to any conclusions? Well, not really. I was hoping that hearing 35 more early Zon-O-phone's would solve my issues with Zono's accompanists, but it really didn't in the end. But there were some interesting things I observed about two records in particular. 

These two were particularly fascinating. I went back and listened to them perhaps half a dozen times each because of the accompaniments. The first one i would immediately assume to have the so-called Hager style accompaniment, and the second to have the Justin Ring accompaniment, and yes they did. But what about them made them so fascinating? 

Well, the first one is definitely the most unusual Zon-O-phone I've ever heard in terms of accompaniment. Denny sings the song very slow, and the accompanist follows in the most unusual and playful way, here are the notes I wrote about it:

Record 16--Goo Goo eyes by Denny, 1901 etched Lyre Zono. very funny and exaggerated intro and very playful as well as dynamic accompaniment. sung very slow by Denny, definitely an outstanding accompaniment...That pianist has got to be Hager: so dynamic, playful, humorous, adventurous, and full of odd syncopation as well as fifths and chords in the left hand for extra emphasis. rolled ending chords, can't forget the absolute precision and daintiness! 

So you can probably observe that I think that pianist is Hager. I am really starting to think that that strange and very distinct early Zon-O-Phone pianist is Hager, and thanks to a few passed down accounts of Hager's accompaniment, I am becoming increasingly certain of this. All of these characteristics seem to fit perfectly with what I gather of his personality, which is also quite nice. So, what about the second one above? That one was also just as good as the Denny from 1901, despite it being from the very end of the piano accompaniment era(1904). Already, the song proves for some good accompaniment to be expected(that's why I chose it!). If you haven't already heard it, here's a 1904 Columbia of it also by Bob Roberts:

http://cylinders.library.ucsb.edu/search.php?queryType=@attr+1=1020&num=1&start=1&query=cylinder10595

This song is already bluesy and well composed, so the accompaniment on the Zon-O-Phone I heard was no less. This record especially stood out because of the repeated use of many different early blues motifs(and this was recorded in 1904). It was definitely not the same pianist as the 1901 Zono I paired with it. The pianist is very similar, but it's not the same person. This pianist is the other familiar Zon-O-phone pianist, with the less dynamic and more aggressive touch that was common on many later Zono's with piano accompaniment. For this 1904 Zono, here were my notes:

Record 17--Wouldn't it make you Hungry by Roberts, 1904 brown 9-inch Zono. Very bluesy accompaniment exaggerated syncopation, every core blues motif present. This is likely Justin Ring! There are also bits of walking bass, very similar syncopation to that of Ring's "sweet potatoes" and "jovial Joe". 

Yeah, that pretty much sums up the pianist on later Zon-O-phone's. So I think that pianist is Ring, just logically, and considering his own rags and arrangements written around the same time. When I got back, I made sure to cross reference all the Zono's I had heard before with the corresponding labels, and pianists I think are the same. 

For the Denny record, I used these for cross reference:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1ITot33CDuo

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qi8K8iKZyXM

And for the Roberts I used these: 

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dVP33Ix8sp0

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aaTarCSS6gc

The accompaniments pretty much line up quite well with the assumed accompanists. The different styles fit pretty solidly into the periods that I associate them with. Occasionally I have heard standouts from this pattern, as I have heard a Zon-O-phone from 1901 where the pianist really sounds like the Justin Ring pianist, and I have heard teal label Zono's from 1902-03 that have that Hager accompanist on them. Naturally this would not be the case all the time, just thinking of this logically. Of course Hager and Ring would cross over often, it wouldn't always be Ring at a certain period of time, or vice versa. 

So aside from the majority of Zon-O-phone's I studied at UCSB, the few Berliners and Columbia's I chose were beautiful as expected, I listened to George Schweinfest play "Sand Dance" a dozen times, as it was so loud and clear, as well as catchy as hell. The melodies are so nice in that seemingly modest piece, but they are haunting. I have bits of that record run through my head still. I should say in referring to a popular 1890's song, "her smile haunts me still", Schweinfest's playing haunts me still. To keep an even amount of space to tell the gist of this long tale, I will move along to the next phase of my travels. I will come back to some more of these records I saw and heard at UCSB in the next few posts. 

The following day, after another 3 hour train ride, I got into LA proper, met with a friend that evening and was beyond excited for the day ahead. The next day I went to visit John Levin. I listen to brown wax every day, and a large percentage of these brownies are from the collection of Mr. Levin. So with this in mind you could imagine the overwhelming anticipation and excitement this brought me. I can barely describe the amount of extraordinary things I saw in his collection. I am still remembering little details of my 8 hour visit over a week removed. I only took two pictures from this visit, as it seemed I had no time to take out my phone, and out of kind courtesy I remained disciplined and intensely focused on the cabinets full of priceless brown wax. When he gave me the tour, there was drawer after drawer of every shade of brown, channel rims, and handwritten slips of every kind. he has two cabinets and three drawers full of Issler's orchestra records. There was a drawer of Kansas City Talking machine records, dozens of original wooden cases of U.S. records, and record boxes of every kind, some I could have never even conceived of existing. 

Here's the one crappy picture I took of any brownies he had. Look at that beautiful channel rim!

he allowed me to choose any bunch of records I wanted to hear, and those records I chose were:

"Echoes from the Snowball club" by Issler's orchestra(1898)

"La Paloma" by Issler's Orchestra(c.1895)

"Dora Dean" by Leachman(1898)

"The Cocoanut Dance" by Ossman(c.1893)

"The Cocoanut Dance" banjo solo by James Dunn of Kansas City(c.1897)

"African Wedding Dance(cake-walk)" by Issler's orchestra(c.1894)

"The Cat Came Back"(The singer's name escapes me now) North American record(1893)

That's quite a bunch! I had always wanted to hear Issler's "african wedding dance", as I assumed it to be a cake-walk or negro dance of some kind, an important thing to look for in studying early rag-time. To add to the significance of that particular record, Len Spencer does the calls as usual, and at the beginning Spencer states, "all ready for the cake walk!". 

There ya go folks, that's one of the earliest authentic references to the cake-walk on a record as far as I've heard. Why is it not surprising that it comes from Spencer? 

In keeping with my formula for studying pianists through cross referencing, I naturally chose two versions of the same song by different banjoists, I'm referring to the takes of "The Cocoanut Dance". Recently this particular piece has become especially interesting to me, as it's a great example of a dynamic and well composed negro dance, the direct predecessor to Rag-time. This piece was written in 1891 by Andrew Hermann, and was recorded countless times since that year, recorded as late as 1907. The Ossman version was interesting because it was a very early take, recorded almost certainly before 1895. I have been wanting to study more of Ossman's early recordings, as I would like to think that he dragged Banta into the studio to make them. Also, I think that Ossman played very slightly differently in his earlier days, his playing seemed a bit smoother and technically more odd. 

But the Kansas City "Cocoanut Dance" was something very different. I had never heard of James Dunn, but of course the label and banjo playing was entirely attractive to me no matter what. Those Kansas City records were all originals, so each one sounded superior, and this particular "Cocoanut Dance" was nothing less. It was swung and ragged in a way that one could expect from a record made in Kansas City in the mid-1890's, pretty much already sounding like Rag-Time, despite the piece being published several years before. The accompaniment was quite modest from what I remember, but there were points where the pianist followed with the swing quite well, but others where it kind of broke down(in a bad way) and got out of whack. 

The Leachman was special. It was one of those so highly prized brownies he made at home in the 1890's, but this particular far surpasses even the "Wedding of the Chinee and the Coon'' that's transferred online. https://archive.org/details/ChineeandtheCoonLeachman99

Well, for one thing, this other Leachman wasn't nearly as messy as the one in the link above. I recall that his own accompaniment on this "Dora Dean" brownie was fantastic, eccentric, and ragged as usual. Despite Leachman's handicap of being barely able to read any music, his piano playing is about as close as we can ever get to hearing an authentic itinerant Chicago pianist of the pre-ragtime era. Aspects of his playing are reminiscent to those of the rags of William Krell and even the accompaniments of Fred Hylands. I cannot stress enough how significant Leachman's accompaniments are, if you could hear how I would be passionately speaking about this it might help. 

Soon I will be able to very well dissect and study Leachman's accompaniment on his "Dora Dean". For now his odd humming chorus is forever going to reappear in my mind. That song is awfully catchy. 

After we got a few things transferred, he took me downstairs to see his disc record collection. Several hours earlier I spoke to him of my mission to dissect those two(0r three) Zon-O-Phone pianists, he took note of this as we poked around in the basement. As he began searching for a stack of Zon-O-Phone's, I was standing by attentively hypnotized on all the records surrounding, and he ever so modestly handed me a stack of about 15 5-inch Berliner's, like it was nothing.

"Here--look through these while I find the 7-inch Zon-O-phone's"

5-inch Berliners! The first commercially made disc records in history. 

Soon I spied an oddly shaped green box I had never seen before. 

The box looked like this:

(of course on the 12 hour train ride back I drew a cartoon that included this little box)

Yep, that's what it was, a Zon-O-phone record case. This case was intended for 9-inch records, and it was a nice shade of green. 

In this case, there were a handful of Zon-O-phone's that we listened to, including the one below:

Of course, pandering to my odd feelings about Hager's violin playing. But that aside, this record was fascinating, as it's quite upbeat compared to the other material Hager recorded violin solos of. So logically the pianist on that would have to be Justin Ring, right? Well yes, and actually, I must say that the accompaniment had similar aspects to that aggressive accompanist that I associate as Ring. 

In this bonus Zon-O-phone stack, there were a few Rosa Chalia records, despite those being operatic, I am very much interested in those, as I am almost certain that the accompanist on those(her Zono's that is) is Hager. It can't really be Ring, as Hager spent a few years in music school to study every kind of music, opera most certainly included. Keep in mind that I still do not know what Ring was doing in the late 1890's, but it's quite possible the two met while both in music school. 

Here's the best example I've heard so far:

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

It helps that Chalia was a great singer, and luckily since these ones I heard were on Zon-O-Phone, the piano was well recorded, but quiet as usual for them. 

There were a few Hager's and Zon-O-Phone orchestra records in this little stack, each one good as expected, and luckily all of his Zono's were in great shape, so each one sounded nearly new. 

When I got back to where I was staying, I was drained mentally and emotionally. It felt like I was recovering from an 8 hour long high, as it was so much to process. I'm still processing all that I saw that day. 

Anyway, there's a lot more for me to talk about from the last few weeks, but it's getting late as I'm writing this, and I would like to finish this post in one shot. In the next post I will speak of the illusive Eddie King, and how he's becoming a more significant figure in my studies each day. 

Hope you enjoyed this! 

Digging into Leachman, and other Chicago Eccentricities

(Leachman, c.1898-1901, from Charlie Judkins)

Under the kind obliging of a friend of mine, I will do another post outlining Silas Leachman, including all of the new information on him that has been found within the last few years. 

When I mentioned that "treasure trove" of information in my last Burt Shepard post, I meant all of the basic background information on Leachman was made available to everyone, as before that, he a was very mysterious figure in the early recording business. It seemed someone did all of the census record findings and newspaper searching to find everything. Whomever that was, you cannot be thanked enough! Much like Burt Shepard, there's a lot about Leachman we will always wonder about, and will probably never know. Leachman was one of the few early recording stars who was genuinely a genius musically, and technically, which was very uncommon. You many argue that the Spencer's deserve that spot and title as well, but Leachman really takes the prize on this matter. 

It's really fascinating to consider that Leachman was not only just a local eccentric in Chicago, but he was also involved with the show business in the area, as he knew all the other famous eccentrics, and just others who passed by the city while he was there. Chicago seems more and more like the true Rag-Time melting pot as I study these encounters, as pretty much every one of the earliest Rag composers lived in Chicago at some point in the early or mid 1890's, which includes some of the popular New York performers as well, not just composers. Leachman just happened to be right in the middle of it, and luckily for him, all of these composers, performers and publishers found him interesting and took quick interest in him. It's not that strange to see a piece of Chicago music published in 1893-1896 mentioning Leachman on the cover, or anywhere in the music's pages. Local Chicago talking machine advertisements would mention him often as well. I have mentioned before in my Chicago posts that Leachman encountered "Bill" Krell, as my dad called him once(It was strange to hear someone call him that!). This was W. H. Krell:

Krell in 1895 

As I have come to notice recently, Krell actually had a Fred Hylands-like figure, which is strange to think, but if you really take a good look, you can notice it. Of course, at first glance, Krell looks like a handsome-faced, blond-haired German chap, it doesn't help that this is the only photograph there is of him, so far as I know.

A cartoon I did mocking several Chicago eccentrics of the mid-1890's, including Krell, Fred Hylands and Bert Morphy(who was also a famous cook!)

We Rag-Time freaks know him as the man who wrote "Missisippi Rag", which was the first tune to formally have "Rag" in the title, in the use of music terms that is. Krell was a young and new bandleader in 1892 and 1893 in Chicago, dearly wanting to get on the same terms as the other local military bands, since he had grown up among band competition of that sort. In 1893, he met a kind local eccentric named Silas Leachman, and wrote a tune dedicated to the former mayor of Chicago who had died during the Exposition of that year. Leachman must have sung this tune at performances by Krell's band in 1893 at the fair, in memory of the mayor. From there, Krell and Leachman had connections, and among the performers Krell endorsed, Leachman was probably one of them. Fred Hylands and Ben Harney were others among the long list of performers.  Leachman's connections earned him a lot of work with the local Chicago Talking machine company, and performing work in the city. Those thousands of brown waxes he made at home from 1892-1899 really give you a idea of how busy and demanded he was by Chicago record-buyers. The fact that he was mentioned more than once in The Phonoscope also tells you that he was a popular subject of gossip among the Columbia clan. He was not involved in all of their antics, but he was experimenting much like they were at the same time, in fact, he was doing things that none of the famous Columbia studio geniuses thought of, such as recording his voice in four different ranges and creating a quartette from only his voice(you can read the section from The Phonoscope here.)  
Other than being a famous recording star, Leachman was also just a local gambler and enthusiast. Among his local activities included owning a race horse, and being the epitome of a Kentucky dandy(of which this is personified in Roger Harding's hilarious 1901 recording here). He would dress in his best and go out to the races, being one of the warmest society swells at the track (Hmm, sounds like some other swells we know from Columbia...), with this fame and wealth from recording and horse races, he also became a policeman, for which he became even more well-known. We know that once he became chief of personnel for the Chicago police, that was when his recording career faded away. He was making all of those Victors when this new era in his life began, and when the pervious one was slowly ending. 

It's hard to believe that when he was making all of those Victors that just after then, he wanted all of that to be forgotten. Every one of his Victor's is amazing to hear, since they seemed to catch more of him than the few surviving brown waxes he made. It would seem that his brown waxes allowed him to be more wild, but the Victor's made him become someone else sometimes, though still keeping some of his prized humor from the brown wax era. His times at Victor were also where he could reconnect with some of his old Chicago eccentrics, like Fred Hylands, and Frank Banta(though Banta only came for a brief time in 1895, and maybe in passing before that while touring with Ossman). It is certain that he was able to reconnect with Hylands, as without a doubt, he was one of those strange and young "rag" pianists of the mid-1890's. I have always had the feeling that Leachman must have been hard to work with in the studio, and not really in the same ways that Arthur Collins and Henry Burr were. Leachman's issues in the studio came from how he remembered songs and recordings, as it's important to remember that he learned everything by ear. He was also constantly imitating other popular singers that the studio pianists would have known, which must have really been a kick to the pianists. Among the singers he imitated, I've heard Len Spencer, George Gaskin, Billy Golden and Arthur Collins. He was certainly good at imitating them, as Billy Golden was the hardest to imitate of all of them, and he did that often. 

I can tell that he heard a lot of Len Spencer. Heh! Who didn't? 

Many of his records imitate things that Spencer did only, and it helps that many of Leachman's Victor's were of Coon songs. Billy Golden is also another to consider that he heard often, as he did a recording of "Turkey in the Straw" in 1901, and he certainly took from Billy Golden's famous version of unknown origins. Here's Leachman's take on Billy Golden's famous specialty. It's funny that Banta's on piano here, as he would have known only how to accompany Golden's version, and would have been unsure of how Leachman wanted to do this. Leachman must have dissected every chorus of Golden's version to do this. Though as we know, the final verse was completely improvised on Leachman's Victor, which is extraordinary. That look on Banta's face when Leachman told him he was going to improvise the last verse must have been priceless. Leachman's ear must have been amazing, as he could probably hear things that most people couldn't, and could decipher Billy Golden's "Turkey in the Straw" better than anyone ever could. It has become a sort of pun how no one can fully transcribe Golden's lyrics to"Turkey in the Straw", and I think that Leachman could actually do it, so I wonder about how accurate Leachman's interpretation actually was. We will perhaps never know. Like I said, there's a lot about Leachman we will never know. 

It's frustrating how he wanted his whole recording thing to be forgotten, as that was why for so many years almost nothing was known about him,  and why much was probably lost since then. Leachman must have been like Len Spencer, complicated to the point of where none of us modern collectors will understand, and contradicting to many contemporary accounts. A lot of it doesn't make sense. With all of that about Leachman it's alright that he wasn't part of the Columbia clan, because if he had left Chicago earlier, he probably would have been, and that would have killed him, literally. 

Maybe we'll find more information on Leachman someday soon, and hopefully, some of his complicated nature will make more sense. That's not guaranteed though, much like Spencer's impossible personality. 

Hope you enjoyed this! Sorry about not posting for many days, staying on a single subject become hard to do within the last week or so. 

*Who ever you are viewing in Russia, I'm glad you're enjoying my blog! Thanks for the great heap of views within the past week!*

W. H. Krell and mid-1890's Chicago "Rag" scene

Since this date, January 27, was the date that Krell's famous piece "Mississippi Rag" was copyrighted back in 1897, this would be an appropriate time to do a post on Krell and 1890's Chicago Rag-Time. 

From the title of this post, I am not at all making the point that Krell was a sort of "chief" of the 1890's Chicago "Rag" society, but he was a big player in the sporty events and music of it. Krell's band was an important and popular group in mid-1890's Chicago, from the World's Fair in 1893, to playing at the big vaudeville houses with Silas Leachman in 1895. As I have briefly mentioned on a previous post, Krell was an aggressive leader who always wanted to be the best bandleader in Chicago, even if that fact was not really true. 

Krell was was in Chicago in a blossoming time of creativity, invention, and excitement. Since 1893 was such an important melting pot for so many from everywhere to experiment and learn, the many who were "stranded" in the city stayed and allowed for the knowledge to flow. Instead of becoming one of those many piano "professors", Krell skewed off to creating his own band after the fair, and wrote some music. In 1895, he wrote a handful of tunes that included a few songs, waltzes, and of course, a cake-walk "Rag". He had heard many of the early "Rag Time" pianists perform at rugged boardinghouses, and wanted to write some of it down, without too much of the realistic syncopation. 

Krell was living in Chicago when it was considered the "sin city" of it's day, with all the "rag time's"(rowdy boardinghouse parties in 1890's slang), sporting houses, prostitution, gambling, and everything else that comes from a city of that type. The young people who took part in this society of "trouble-makers" does include Fred Hylands, and Frank P. Banta, as both of them were in Chicago between 1894 and 1896. Banta was there in 1894-95, and Hylands was there from 1893 to early 1896. Banta played in saloons and sporting houses while there, and not much else. This might be why some may be curious about those Chicago Talking Machine Company records from c.1894-96, as it might be one of those two pianists behind those singers. Or not, it's hard to know. I'm sure when Ossman and Banta were on tour in Chicago, Vess split with Banta for a little while to got and enjoy himself, if you know what I mean...

Anyhow, back to Krell. With his band, he was making the rounds in the Chicago area, and making sure that his band was the best of all, even though it was getting very tough to stay on top by the time his "Mississippi Rag" was published. He came out with another rag in 1898 called "Shake Yo' Dusters" which is a better example of a Rag from mid-1890's Chicago. The melodies of "Mississippi Rag' came from black southern melodies Krell and his band heard while out on tour along the Mississippi in 1896. So in later 1896, he had a band arrangement of an un-named tune, but by the beginning of the next year, he finally had a title for the piece, which became hereafter The Mississippi Rag. 
The tunes in Rag-Time he wrote were popular at the hall dances his band played, and at vaudeville venues, as well as being played by other performers in the area(like by Fred Hylands!). Sometimes Krell had guest instrumentalists, like Harry Diamond, who was that young violinist that Krell got into a terrible argument with in 1900 and ended up hurting him badly. He must have also had someone like Silas Leachman sing with his orchestra, since he still resided in Chicago, even though in 1900 he was well engaged in making records for local companies(but not Victor just yet!). He knew somehow, that after 1905, his popularity was going downhill far faster than he had ever thought, but he didn't admit if fully until the mid-1910's. By then, Chicago was no longer that Rag-Time powerhouse of the mid-1890's. 
It was a place that was described in many accounts, 1890's Chicago(post world's fair), described in negative ways, and positive ways, certainly a fascinating period of time in that area.





Now I mean to get into some records for this evening. Some of these records I have here are ones that I could have shared a while ago, but I haven't for some reason. 
Now this first one is a Victor disc from 1901 by Len Spencer. The question though, lies on the pianist identification. Here is that record:
Will Marion Cook's "On Emancipation Day" by Len Spencer
After a few listens, I really think I know who that pianist is. For a long time, this was just as confusing a record as any Victor for knowing the pianist, but now that I have really figured out the distinctions, that pianist on this is...
FRANK P. BANTA:

Yes indeed. 
From my post a little while back where I listed all the studio pianist attributes, it would seem that Banta fits into this one quite well. Pretty much every one of Banta's stylings are present on this record, and it is a Victor from before 1904 anyhow, so it's probably Banta. It is a fantastic example of early recorded Rag-Time, and Rag-Time by a black composer other and Bert Williams and George Walker. 


This next one is a record I just found this evening, and it's by a performer I don't think I've ever spoken of on this blog:

Charles D' Almaine. 
The violin extraordinaire on all of those Edison, Columbia, Victor and Berliner records in the late-1890's and 1900's. 
Now this record I have here, is an odd one, with questionable piano accompaniment, but a revealing date somehow. Now here you go with Charles D'Almaine's version of "Donkey and Driver" recorded in April, 1904. Since it was recorded in 1904 that rids of Banta from the guesses, but there are still three others it could be. I could be Fred Bachmann, Christopher Booth, or Fred Hylands. The one thing that makes me think it's more likely to be Hylands is how loud and jarring the fifths in the left hand are at the section starting at 0:46, also that he's not exactly playing the tune as written. Hylands was, anyway, the primary pianist for Victor in that short period of time after Banta's death in 1903 and the end of the piano accompaniment era in early 1905.
Speaking of D'Almaine, I just recalled another record from many years before, that just also happens to have Hylands on piano. 
Here's "The Mockingbird" by D'Almaine and Hylands, c.1898-99.
Now this is a weird record. Hylands is absolutely crazy on this one, and when I say that, I mean it! He's even more frantic than he is on any other record I've ever heard with his accompaniment. This is one of those few records where one would have to wonder what kind of drug Hylands was on when he did this take. There are a few more examples of this, but this one is a rare one from before 1900. 

I hope you enjoyed this! 

Character Studies-- W. H. Krell(1868-1938)

Yes, I know Mr. Krell wasn't a recording star, but he had connections with two recording stars of the 1890's and 1900's, and he's a fascinating character to illustrate and describe. Krell was born in Pennsylvania in May of 1868, to two German immigrants, who were not involved in music at all, but knew from an early time, that their son was. He first took up brass instruments, learning low the brass, trumpet, as well as a little piano. He wasn't primarily a pianist, which is a contributor to the fact that the first version of "Mississippi Rag" was only a band arrangement. It took a little while for the collection of melodies to become a piece published for piano. By the late 1880's, Krell was playing in local bands, but he wanted to move somewhere else, somewhere larger than his home town, where he could make a name for himself. He decided that Chicago would be the place to go. So by 1889, he was living out in Chicago, and beginning his own band. In 1890, he had formed "Krell's Band" and he was beginning to make a name for himself as a local bandleader and cornetist. The local eccentrics ran into him at the big World's Fair of 1893, and this is why he wrote a bunch of music in '93. This is where he ran into Silas Leachman, Ben Harney, Fred Hylands, Bert Morphy, possibly Byron Harlan, and a host of others. Krell's first known piece is a remembrance to the former Chicago Mayor who died in 1893, with the music primarily composed by Silas Leachman, as well as the lyrics. He wrote the "Cake Walk Patrol" in 1895, and then by the end of the next year, had written out his arrangements for "Mississippi Rag", only to get them published in January of the next year, 1897. He remained conducting his band until the beginning of the 1910's, and from there faded into complete obscurity.

Willie Krell was a classic German bandleader. He not only had the looks, but the competitive and organized means of a Germanic brass player and bandleader. He was about 5 foot 8, strongly built, had small blue eyes, and hair that was golden, very light, and seemed like the lightest gold that a person's hair could be. He was a short-tempered man, much like Sylvester Ossman, and wouldn't take any "B. S.", from anyone. If something wasn't done his way, he would speak out against the opposition and make them think his way, and abolish all others who thought otherwise. He was determined to have the best band in  Chicago, at any means possible, even if it meant beating up some members of his own band. He was the most determined and destructive bandleader Chicago ever had before the Jazz age, only because he was desperate for the best band he could possibly have, and have the best Chicago music-makers by his side, which at his height in the mid-90's, he certainly had. He was also a drinker, some one too, not a terrible one, but one who went out and drank after those "society shows", and maybe took a few band members along with him. The record managers of Chicago avoided him, as he was too much like banjoist Ossman, and that wasn't always the best thing, also because nothing would be able to be done his way in a recording studio. He probably had offers, as the Chicago talking Machine company was gaining a reputation by 1895, and was looking for better staff members. Of course, he refused this, even though it would have been interesting if he had accepted. With the help of the few Rag-Time performers he knew left in 1898, he wrote his third rag, "The Piccaninny Rag", this Rag was much more true to the actual style of the pianists he heard around him in Chicago, even if it was composed after many of them had left for New York. He had become especially evil toward his band members by 1900, as a few incidents of injured band members and filed arrests really showed that he was even more determined by then, as the business was becoming very crowded and full of competition. He was great at what he did, but a terrible man at rehearsals and after shows. By 1905, he was starting to wind down a little bit, and somehow, he knew that he hadn't too many years left in the music business. How he knew it, by the one-step era(or just before the starts of the Jazz age) he was out of the business completely. It was good that he did that, since he was going to end all of that inevitably, so no more of that competitive atmosphere could kill him. He lived out in Florida for the last few decades leading up to his death in 1938, where he died in complete obscurity. He was remembered for decades afterward as just that bandleader from Chicago who won that music-writing contest with his "Mississippi Rag" in 1897.

I hope you enjoyed this! 

Heatin' up Victor's piano and the genius of Silas Leachman

Last evening, I went through a multitude of Victors from 1900 to 1904, seeing if I could tell who the pianist was on certain recording dates. I can for some reason really tell the difference now. I have easily been able to spot Banta from Hylands. When digging through those relatively few records by Silas Leachman:

(from Archeophone's blog, thanks for putting up this fantastic photograph you guys!)

One might be able to tell that the piano accompaniment on many of them is exceptional and reasonably different from some of the usual records you would hear from pre-1905 Victor's. This is because the pianist is Fred Hylands on many of them. I tried to explain this to a friend of mine(who is a piano player), that Hylands did indeed have to make trips off to the Victor studio that was in Philadelphia reasonably often, and that it wouldn't be surprising that he went back to Columbia in the early evening for a few sessions after a few hours at Victor, or vice versa. Sometimes Fred would have to board somewhere near the Victor studio in Philly for a few recording days in a row at Victor, which as looking into Leachman's records, were usually recorded in bunches.  A great example of this are the days of December 3 to the 7 of 1901. 

Here is a record from each one of these days:

December 3, 1901.

December 4, 1901(you can really notice Hylands one this one!!)

December 5, 1901(I thought Banta was on this one for a long time)

December 6, 1901(the second one listed on this page is the one I mean. this is a fascinating and weird one, as Hylands changes the speed a little too much...)

The ones from December 7 are not digitized, but I have heard Leachman's "My Maid of Hindoostan" from that date. It's a record that should not have been issued, as it's a pretty substantial "mess" of a record. The only problem with the record is that Leachman genuinely forgets the lyrics, and improvises on some made-up-on-the-spot words to the song. I do not recall how it all fits together, but I do know that Hylands was pretty good behind him and that Leachman completely mixes up the lyrics. It was one of those few records I have heard that really weren't supposed to be issued, but were anyway. As I try my hardest to recollect the sequence of the record, and how it sounded, I can just see the look on Hylands' face when Leachman started to go off on his improvised section. They must have run through it at least once before they did the take, but when they actually did it, Leachman probably was at a loss for words to continue on in the song. Leachman was usually able to make up words on the spot, without any real thought, even if they didn't rhyme. He can be heard here in the second verse of this record doing this:
http://adp.library.ucsb.edu/index.php/matrix/detail/100002503/Pre-matrix_B-3360-Turkey_in_de_straw

Leachman was one of the rarest cases of perfect pitch. He was one of the best I have ever heard of in my studies of these recording stars(better than Frank P. Banta!). It would seem that he was able to listen to two different versions of the same song(on cylinders!) and play back each of them, imitating the versions with their small distinctions, both the accompaniment and the singing as well. 

Leachman and Hylands was probably the most powerful and crazily intelligent duo that any of the artists at Victor ever had, in all its history. The sheer power and musical intellect of these two could probably have been felt in the breath of the air of the Victor studio when they came together. It's two musical powerhouses together, one who had the might on the piano, and the other who had the best of all the earliest recording artists in one singer. Leachman imitated EVERYONE. No matter who is mentioned, Leachman heard them and imitated them somehow. He heard Len Spencer, Arthur Collins, Billy Golden, Fred Hylands, J. W. Myers, George Gaskin, Steve Porter, Edward M. Favor, Russell Hunting, and who knows who else. Leachman probably got a kick out of Len Spencer and Billy Golden, and this is why he imitated them quite often, recording exactly the same songs that they did, with the lyrics they chose, and small details that distinguished their versions. He must have been considerd a real "Freak" in the Chicago area in the 1890's for being able to do this. This is where I am sure that Leachman ran into those popular Chicago eccentrics like Fred Hylands and W. H. Krell:

Krell, in 1895.
Krell was just a local bandleader in Chicago, but he was a very well-known one in that area. I know for a fact that Leachman and Krell met. Krell's song from 1893 called "In Memory of Our Carter", says that the co-writer and introducer of the song was Silas Leachman. Interestingly enough, Leachman later recorded this very song on a Victor in 1903, but it was never issued for some reason. Hylands wasn't really as well-known as Krell, but I am almost 100% sure that Leachman would have run into Hylands at some point between 1893 and 1895, as that was the time that Hylands lived there, and when Leachman was making records, and a name for himself as a local musical "freak". Hylands must have accompanied him at some of the few concerts Leachman did in the Chicago area as well, as Hylands was a reasonable pick for an accompanist at that time. He wasn't really doing too much, so it would seem very possible that Hylands would have gotten picked out of the crowd of musicians by Leachman to be his pianist. 
 There was no other recording star like Leachman, not even someone with as good an ear like Hylands could play and sing to the awesome ability that Leachman could. It's extraordinary really, and hard to fathom, even to me being an ear-player. He could imitate any singer he heard, and could pronounce every syllable like the singer he heard. Since he had an extraordinary vocal range(from high tenor to low baritone)so he had all the means for mimicking any singer he heard. Leachman probably showed Hylands and Krell's band(at different times of course!) what he did, and how he did it. They all must have watched in awe, and silence, at the musical miracle that occurred before their eyes. Hylands must have been fascinated first with the phonograph upon first hearing about Leachman's temendously rare and extraordinary talent. 
It's a damn shame that Leachman left all of these amazing talent behind him and made the heaving effort to never speak of it again after he ended his time in the business. People still spoke of it here and there, and Hylands probably remembered Leachman until the day he died, as I'm sure one meeting with Leachman could be one to remember for one's entire life. 

I hope you enjoyed this! Sorry it's been a few days, I've been getting ready for the West Coast Ragtime Festival.

Hylands, his stage partners, and other things

It's been a while since I have been able to use this odd picture. 

I still think it's comical and queer, just as I did when I found it. 

I was looking through one of the many sheet music websites I use as sources for many of these great picture I use on this blog, and I found a small picture of someone that I recognize:

Hmm, I think I know him from another piece of sheet music...

Yep, that's Hylands' last vaudeville partner, as seen in the first picture above with Hylands. This picture is a good 7 years older that the other one, but it's still the same guy, before he got entangled with Hylands. Now, I don't really know anything about him, but I do know that he was three years younger than Hylands and that he came from Kentucky, also that he was a popular singer and minstrel man. That's about it, I don't really know anything else about him. 

He was one of the few who went on that tour in England with Hylands though, so he saw him in his last days. He can be found listed with Hylands here:

Hylands is listed first, as deceased, probably at the explanation of Marie. 

This was the log of the passengers aboard the ship that they came back on from England. 

It was so sudden, Hylands just croaked quick while they were over there. The small troupe that came along with them were planning on staying over in England for two years, but how that was severed short. They were all forced to come back to the US after only three months or so of traveling around, and as I know now, Marie was broken by this. I do think it's interesting that she and the others of the troupe did a few more shows after Fred passed before they came back to America. That was either a little bit hard to configure or it was hard for them to even get through with. 

Enough of Hylands' death(it gets me all blue!), I found a piece of music just after I began this post that Hylands arranged back in 1896. I had only found his "Narcissus  Gavotte" from 1897 his oldest piece, but now that I did a little digging on the LOC website, I found this here:

http://www.loc.gov/item/ihas.100006481/

I wish they had it digitized just as much as you probably do. It really got me frustrated, because who knows what it says on the cover about Hylands! It would certainly have all the usual things on the cover just like any piece of sheet music from 1896, but it could label him something "Rag" related for all I know! It will certainly say he is the arranger, and if we ever get to see the music, it will unlock many things about his pre-1897 piano style. I really want to see it, and if any of you can help me do that, it would be wholly appreciated! 

I do have the feeling that Hylands may have been mentioned on some Chicago sheet music from the mid-1890's, just like Silas Leachman was, and W. H. Krell. Someone like Trebor Tichenor would probably get stuck on this also, as he did particularly know Hylands too well, but he had certainly been aware of him, and his relatively few Rag-Time compositions. 

Since I found a picture of Burt Green, I can finally put him and Hylands together, and picture them together reasonably well, at least better than before. 

These two must have been really something to see together. I can see that Burt Green had some interesting hair, and wasn't very tall. That's quite a contrast to Hylands' 250 pound weight and 6 feet of height. It's similar to the contrast between Ben Harney and Hylands, Harney was about 5 foot eight, and had the perfect build for an athletic dancer, whereas Hylands was almost near a freak compared to Harney. It wasn't this way with Len Spencer though. When Hylands was with Spencer, it seemed as though it was meant to be that way. Having roots in neighboring states, Spencer and Hylands were both hicks at heart and had the same love for music, the kind that had broken time that is. I have yet to know how the two met first, but it may have just been a studio encounter, or something more unexpected. 

However they first decided to be recorded together, their records were great nonetheless, and are among the best examples of recorded Rag-Time prior to 1900, both vocally and musically. Such as this one here from 1899(the music starts at 6:00!).

Proves the point enough. I cannot get over his playing on the one in the link above! It's such a perfect example of Indiana Rag-Time, and vaudeville piano as well. 

This final thing I would like to speak of is a record that I have plucked through on this blog before, but would like to bring back. It is that record where you can hear Hylands singing among the crowd of brass players and sound effects. There are many cylinders from 1898-1903 where you can hear the boys in the band yelling and clapping, but there are few where you can hear them all sing. When they cheer, it's harder to pick out single voices, but when they sing, you can easily pick out more voices. Here is that record from 1898.

Did you hear it? There's this one voice that really sticks out when they all sing at the end, and I have a notion that this voice is probably you know who(Hylands). There are several pieces of evidence I have to back up my theory here:
1. Hylands would be the only one who would be able to sing while he played his instrument, other than Harry Spencer and maybe a few more engineers.

2. Hylands did in fact sing, and since he did, considering his build other obvious feature of him, he would have been a baritone, and that is the range of the one voice that sticks out here
3. The volume at which the one voice is would indicate being about the length away from the horn that the pianist would be, and it slightly indicates the height of the piano chair as well, if your ears are good enough to notice

4. I hear a slight dialect in the voice as well, which would indicate one of only two people in that studio I am certain are present

5. Only Tom Clark would be doing the calls, and playing coronet, so he can't be singing at the end

I have more ideas on this theory, but I don't need to list all of them, as I think I got the point across with these few ideas. I hope you can hear that voice I'm referring to! It's still a fun record nonetheless. This record is similar to this one here, recorded also in 1898. This record is played too fast though, so the cheering and yelling does not sound the same as the last one. This one is much more wild though, by the whole "Commence firing!" thing goes. Hylands hits the piano keys fiercely(probably with his elbow) and everyone else is swinging those wooden things that make a big Click! when you swing them around in a circle, and yelling and etc. Those "descriptive selections" were really fun things to do I bet, which makes them so fun to listen to.

I hope you enjoyed this!