Blame It On Woody Allen, Okay?

Blame It On Woody Allen, Okay?

CD REVIEWS

Yes, here is one more thing to blame on Woody Allen, as if he hasn’t had enough problems in his life. Earlier this year I watched and reviewed in this space the film Radio Days that Woody directed. Every since then in the deep recesses of my brain the tunes Paper Dolls and Sentimental Journey have been pounding away. Hey this is music made before I was born, although maybe I picked it up in the womb. Why is it in my head? I am still a child of my generation (the Generation of '68) and fought the anti-Vietnam War fight to the tunes of Bob Dylan’s Desolation Row and The Rolling Stones’ Gimme Shelter but I think I can make a little room for this, if only to keep my brain from stopping that pounding. Directly below are a few comments from my Radio Day review that fit here and below that some specific comments on the CDs being reviewed.

"…I am a first generation child of the television age, although in recent years I have spent more time kicking and screaming about that fact than watching the damn thing. Nevertheless I can appreciate Director (and narrator) Woody Allen’s valentine to the radio days of his youth. I am just old enough, although about a half generation behind Allen, to remember the strains of songs like Paper Dolls and Autumn Leaves that he grew up with and that are nicely interspersed throughout his story as backdrop floating in the background of my own house.

I am also a child of Rock 'n' Roll but those above-mentioned tunes were the melodies that my mother and father came of age to and the stuff of their dreams during World War II and its aftermath. The rough and tumble of my parents raising a bunch of kids might have taken the edge off it but the dreams remained. In the end it is this musical backdrop that makes Radio Days most memorable to me……

….Allen’s youth, during the heart of World War II, was time when one needed to be able to dream a little. The realities of the world at that time seemingly only allowed for nightmares. My feeling is that this film touched a lot of sentimental nerves for the World War II generation (that so-called ‘greatest generation’) whether it was his Jewish families (as portrayed here) on the shores of New York’s Far Rockaway or my Irish families on the shores of Quincy, Massachusetts. Nice work, Woody."

Songs that Got Us Through WWII- Vol. 2, various artists, Rhino Records, 1994

The highlights here are Vaughan Monroe’s There I’ve Said It Again. This is the time of the male crooner and the big band orchestra and Monroe combines both here. Bing Crosby and the Andrews Sisters hit with Is You Is Or Is You Ain’t My Baby. Male crooner and three female harmonies was another trade mark of the times. Billie Holiday’s Lover Man. Let me keep this one simple- I could get through war, pestilence and the apocalypse as long as I had a Billie album with me.

Sentimental Journey- Vol. 1 (1942-1946) various artists, Rhino Records, 1993

The highlights here include, obviously, Les Brown and his band doing Sentimental Journey with a young Doris Day on vocals-nice. Dick Haymes doing You’ll Never Know is something like the crooner voice of World War II. Of course, Paper Dolls by the Mills Brothers done here with a little jump middle section is classic. A nice version of Cole Porter’s Night And Day by one Frank Sinatra. It will not replace Billie Holiday’s rendition but is very nice and with the trademark Sinatra phrasing. The top tune here though is Lena Horne doing an incredible version of Stormy Weather. I have heard this tune done by many vocalists- male and female- this is the first time I stopped what I was doing to make sure I gave it its proper due.

The 1940’s, Volume I- 16 Most Requested Songs, various artist, Columbia Records, 1989

Highlights here include the classic Sentimental Journey with Les Brown and his band. Harry James and his band doing a bang up job on You Made Me Love You. A startlingly beautiful version (I didn’t expect it to be in this kind of compilation) of Some Enchanted Evening from the Broadway musical South Pacific done by Ezio Pinza. Kudos here. The surprise is a very sensuous Latin- tropical version of Amor in Spanish done by Xavier Cugat and his band with an unknown (to me) Carmen Castillo on vocals. Wow.

16 Most Requested Songs, Rosemary Clooney, Columbia, 1989

Yes there was a musical world before 1956 and the Elvis explosion. That musical world, however, was the world of the parents, including mine, of the Generation of ’68. One of those voices was that of Rosemary Clooney. Then I thought she was square- you know with that smooth voice and ‘good girl’ image and all in a film like White Christmas with Bing Crosby. Then, several years ago, before she died I heard her in an interview on National Public Radio where she admitted to a drug problem and other little indiscretions. Of course, for this reviewer that meant that I might have to reevaluate her work now that I knew she was not really that ‘good girl’. Now a lot of her sound is still beyond the pale for me and her seeming addiction to bebop novelty songs like Mambo Italiano is off-putting but she certainly is more interesting as a singer to me now. I like the sound of Come On-A My House but what really is nice is Ms. Clooney's way with a ballad. Try Hey There and Tenderly on for size. Then work your way to Half As Much and then a nice little version of Blues In The Night and Too Young. It only took me 50 years to recognize it but Rosemary- you done good.

***When Radio Ruled The Waves-Woody Allen's "Radio Days"

When Radio Ruled The Waves-Woody Allen's "Radio Days" (1987)-A Film Review

DVD REVIEW

Radio Days, Directed by Woody Allen, 1987


I am a first generation child of the television age, although in recent years I have spent more time kicking and screaming about that fact than watching the damn thing. Nevertheless I can appreciate Director (and narrator) Woody Allen’s valentine to the radio days of his youth. I am just old enough, although about a half generation behind Allen, to remember the strains of songs like Paper Dolls and Autumn Leaves that he grew up with and that are nicely interspersed throughout his story as backdrop floating in the background of my own house.

I am also a child of Rock and Roll but those above-mentioned tunes were the melodies that my mother and father came of age to and the stuff of their dreams during World War II and its aftermath. The rough and tumble of my parents raising a bunch of kids might have taken the edge off it but the dreams remained. In the end it is this musical backdrop that makes Radio Days most memorable to me.

Let’s be clear- there something very different between the medium of the radio and the medium of the television. As Allen’s film poignantly points out the radio allowed for an expansion of the imagination (and of fantasy) that the increasingly harsh realities of what is portrayed on television do not allow one to get away with. There is, for example, the funny sketch here involving the ‘scare’ caused by Orson Welles narration of War of the Worlds. Today the space wanderers would have to be literally in one’s face before one accepted such a tale.

Allen’s youth, during the heart of World War II, was time when one needed to be able to dream a little. The realities of the world at that time seemingly only allowed for nightmares. My feeling is that this film touched a lot of sentimental nerves for the World War II generation (that so-called ‘greatest generation’) whether it was his Jewish families (as portrayed here) on the shores of New York’s Far Rockaway or my Irish families on the shores of North Adamsville, Massachusetts. Nice work, Woody.

***From The Time Of Radio Days- Sentimental Journey- The Forties-A CD Review

Wow!

CD Review


Sentimental Journey, Volume 1 (1942-1946), Rhino Records, 1993

I am a child of rock ‘n’ roll, no question. And I have filled this space with plenty of material about my likes and dislikes from the classic period of that genre, the mid-1950s, when we first heard that different jail-break beat, a beat our parents could not “hear,” as we of the generation of ’68 earned our spurs and started that long teenage process of going our own way. Still, as much as we were determined to have our own music on our own terms, wafting through every household, every household that had a radio in the background, and more importantly, had the emerging sounds from television was our parents’ music- the music, mainly of the fighting World War II period. And that is what this Sentimental Journey volume evokes in these ears.

These are songs, not jitter-bugging songs like when Benny Goodman, Count Basie, Duke Ellington or Harry James and their orchestras started to “jump” to high heaven but the midnight mood songs, the songs of soldiers leaving for wherever and uncertain futures, the songs of old-fashioned (now, seemingly, old-fashioned) boy meets girl love, the songs of lonely nights waiting by the fireside, waiting for Johnny to come home. A very different waiting sound than rock, be-bop or hip-hop. A sound driven more by melody in synch with the Tin Pan Alley lyrics than anything later produced.

Some of these tunes still echo way back in my young teenager brain, some don’t, but here are the stick outs:

Swing On A Star, Bing Crosby (a much underrated, by me, singer, especially before I heard him do his rendition of Brother, Can You Spare A Dime? on the fly); Paper Doll, The Mills Brothers (this one I heard endlessly in the background radio and has great harmonics by these guys); There I’ve Said It Again, Vaughn Monroe (old Vaughn was the prototype, even more than Frank Sinatra, for the virile male singer who carried the “torch”); Stormy Weather, Lena Horne (I was mad for this song even in my “high rock” days and if you get a chance watch the late Lena Horne do her thing with this one on YouTube, Wow!); Night and Day, Frank Sinatra (classic Cole Porter, although I like Billie Holiday’s version better, Frank’s phrasing is excellent). Now if we just had Stardust Memories we really would be back in the 1940s.

Put Your Mother’s Dancing Slippers On- Once Again On The Songs That Got Us Through World War II

Click on the headline to link to a YouTube film clip of Vaughn Monroe performing There I've Said It Again. Yes, I know with an introduction by Ronald Reagan. Yadda Yadda.

CD Review


Songs That Got Us Through World War II, Volume 2, various artists, Rhino Records, 1994

There I’ve Said It Again, came wafting through the halls from another ballroom as Sally Madigan began to sit down at her table after having danced to her favorite dance, and almost naturally so, Mustang Sally. Strange juxtaposition, strange times she thought to herself. Just a bunch of years ago, a bunch of childhood 1950s years ago, she would do her own swoon, almost swelling to tears, just like her mother, sweet mother, Delores, when that deep bass voice of Vaughn Monroe came over WJDA, the local radio station in Clintondale that feature songs of the 1940s, the war-torn and separated 1940s, her mother’s time, and surely her father’s too. And now it just sounded, well, old-fashioned, old hat, and old fogy. Hell, now the be-bop rock 1950s that she craved sounded that way too. But that is a story for another time, a time of boy-finding and finding out about being a girl.

Strange that just that song, and now what sounded like the strains of Sentimental Journey starting up, heard more clearly now that the Lazy Crazy and the Rocking Ramrods were taking a break after finishing that last set with as sweat-poring, handkerchief wet rendition of Sally, are in the air. Strange since only a couple of weeks ago as Sally packed up her belongings from her room so that her younger sister, Meg, could move up in the Madigan girls' room pecking order and move in she had been flashed back to that same 1940s time. She was packing her belongings, sorting out what she was taking to State University and what she was storing, her other valuables and mementos like Timmy the Bear that just could not be parted with, down in the cellar.

In the cellar she had come across her mother’s wrapped in seven layers of plastic dancing slippers, or what was labeled as such by her label-happy mother. And a few Brownie-camera taken photographs, faded brown now, of her younger days mother, escorted by various beaus, some in uniform others not. But none of her mother with her father. And every picture had a note written in fountain pen, or what looked like fountain pen ink, thicker and more squiggly than Bics, that read something like this one- “to Delores Taylor, the rose of the Class of 1943 and the best slow dancer around. Love and kisses, Zack.”

Those finds had gotten Sally thinking about what those things meant, as they did now, as Caldonia came be-bopping through those halls and that distinctive Woody Herman flute reached for the high white note. Funny, she found herself toe-tapping to that sound, as were others around her, even though everybody agreed, agreed totally, that that was nothing but mothers and fathers music when she mentioned the name of the song. And Sally was thinking hard about the fact that her mother never danced, never mentioned dancing, and never mentioned any of the facts behind all that WJDA music that had practically mesmerized her in the 1950s. And if that was true of her mother then it was ten times more true about her father, Jim, who for the past several years had been a blur in her life, both because he did not understand how in the world he produced five girls and no boys. Although he repeated emphasized that he loved them all dearly when pushed on the subject and he had taken to spending more time with his old-time war buddy cronies and some younger guys as Timmy’s Irish Pub over near the softball field in North Clintondale. All she knew about those times was that Jim had a fist full of medals on a uniform that was also laid out in seven layers of plastic down in the cellar, and that was it.

Sally mentioned that fact to her escort, yes, escort, not boyfriend, okay, Johnny Rizzo, a fellow freshmen she had met her first day at State at orientation and whom she immediately liked. He invited her to this first Freshman Mixer and she accepted. He noted that his own parents never talked about those war days, although they did not play the old-timey music so maybe they just wanted to forget. That opinion was shared, mostly, by the other three couples at the table, at least between the cooings being made by those couples. And as When My Man Comes Home started to get competition from Lazy Crazy warming up to the Kingmen’s Louey, Louey Sally was determined to fill in the lost years. Just then Johnny asked her to dance, and as her feet were feeling too hot she slipped off her own dancing slippers before heading to the dance floor.

Note: Sally did find out, or partially find out, what happened back in those days and to make a long story short, There I’ve Said It Again was the “their” song for Delores and Zack, Zack Smith. Zack was killed, like too many boys, at Anzio (Italy) and Delores had married Jim Madigan, war hero and alive, on the “rebound.” Jim never said anything about it, that was Jim’s way, but he never danced with Delores either.

His Father’s Uniform- “The Songs That Got Us Through World War II”

Click on the headline to link to a YouTube film clip of the Ink Spots performing I'll Get By.

CD Review

The Songs That Got Us Through World War II, various artists, Rhino Records, 1990

Rick Roberts was curious. Not curious about everything in the world just this minute, although more than one teacher had noted on his early childhood reports cards that little characteristic, but curious about his father’s military uniform, his faded, drab, slightly moth-eaten army dress uniform, World War II version, of course. That curiousness came not from, like the usual, some daydream curiosity but the result, the this minute result, of having come across the suit in an attic closet as he was preparing to store his own not used, not much used, or merely out-of-fashion, excess clothing against time. And that time was, or rather is the time of his imminent departure for State University and his first extended time away from home.

Funny Rick knew that his father had been in World War II, had gotten some medals for his service as was apparent from the fruit salad on the uniform, and had spent a little time, he was not exactly sure on the time but his mother had told him 1950 when he asked, in the Veterans Hospital for an undisclosed aliment. But he had not heard anything beyond those bare facts from his father. Never. And his mother had insistently shh-ed him away when ever he tried to bring it up.

Oh sure Rick had been sick unto death back in the 1950s when the kitchen radio, tuned into WNAC exclusively to old-time World War II Roberts’ parent music. To the exclusion of any serious rock music like Elvis, Chuck, Little Richard and Jerry Lee, but that was parents just being parents and kicking up old torches. Especially when Frank Sinatra sang I’ll Be Seeing You, or his mother would laugh whimsically when The Andrew Sisters performed Boogie Woogie Bugle Boy or The Mills Brothers would croon Till Then. But they, Rick’s parents, never were overheard discussing that war, nor was it discussed when his father’s cronies, and fellow veterans, came over to play their weekly card games until dawn. What happened back then, what went wrong?

After having spied the uniform Rick decided it was time to ask those questions, those curiosity questions. Later it would be too late, he would be too busy raising a family of his own, or he would be doing his own military service, although he hoped not on that count. It just didn’t figure into his plans, and that was that. So with a deep breathe one evening, one Friday evening after dinner, when his father would not be distracted by thoughts of next day work, or Saturday night card games, his asked the big question. And his father’s answer- “I did what a lot of guys did, not more not less, I did it the best way I could, I saw some things, some tough things, I survived and that’s all that there is to say.” And Rick’s father said it in such a way that there was no torture too severe, no hole too deep, and no hell too hot to get more than that out of him.

Later that evening, still shell-shocked at his father’s response, as he prepared to go out with his boys for one last North Adamsville fling before heading to State, he could hear his mother softy sobbing while the pair listened on the living room phonograph to Martha Tilton warble I’ll Walk Alone, The Ink Spots heavenly harmonize on I’ll Get By, Doris Day songbird Sentimental Journey, Vaughn Monroe sentimentally stir When The Lights Go on Again, and Harry James orchestrate through It’s Been A Long, Long Time. Then Rick understood, understood as well as an eighteen year old boy could understand such things, that it was those songs that had gotten them through the war, and its aftermath. And that was all he had to know.