Sundays with Duke #35: Take It!

As we step into 1941 with Duke Ellington, we hit one of the absolute crown jewels of the Ellington catalogue: Billy Strayhorn’s immortal Take the ‘A’ Train.

The band recorded it for Victor in February 1941.

Let’s spin it:

Everything about this record feels perfectly balanced — Duke’s attention‑grabbing piano intro, Ray Nance’s two bright trumpet solos, and Strayhorn’s subtle yet intricate backgrounds that glide underneath the melody.

It’s the performance that announced Billy Strayhorn’s arrival to the wider music world and confirmed Ray Nance as a worthy successor to Cootie Williams.

The tune was so well‑received that it became the Ellington band’s theme song, staying in heavy rotation from then on.

Out of the countless performances, here’s a distilled playlist of some of the most notable...

Broadcast Brilliance (1951)

First up is this revised arrangement from a 1951 radio broadcast spotlighting Paul Gonsalves on tenor:

It almost sounds like a different tune — leaner, cooler, and built around Gonsalves’ long‑line phrasing.

Uptown Unleashed (1952)

Gonsalves returns on this epic version from the 1952 Columbia album Ellington Uptown, also featuring vocalist Betty Roché:

The early LP format gave Duke room to stretch out, reinventing the song with extended solos and a more dramatic arc.

Newport Nostalgia (1956)

From the 1956 Newport Jazz Festival, we get a more traditional reading:

Ray Nance steps back in on trumpet, bringing that familiar sparkle.

Ella Takes the Train (1957)

Ella Fitzgerald once again joins with Duke and the band for her 1957 take from the Duke Ellington Songbook on Verve:

A blast of joy — Duke’s classic piano intro, Ella’s scatting, and the band’s playful train sound effects.

Duke in the Foreground (1960)

From Duke’s 1960 Columbia album Piano in the Background:

Despite the album title, Duke’s piano is very much in the foreground, and it’s wonderful.

Piano Royalty Meets (1962)

Staying with Columbia, here’s a track from Duke's 1962 album that teamed his band with Count Basie's band — First Time! The Count Meets the Duke:

Two titans in one studio — yet both leaders let Billy Strayhorn take the piano solos. A quiet, unmistakable sign of respect.

Ray Nance trades trumpet lines with Basie's Sonny Cohn just to keep things fair!

A Popular Performance (1966)

We wind up with Duke’s 1966 RCA Victor album The Popular Duke Ellington, which appropriately leads off with Take the "A’" Train:

Twenty‑five years after its initial departure, the train still sounds fresh!

A Cinematic Closing  — Hollywood Gets on Board (1943)

As a bonus, here's a fun clip from the 1943 Columbia picture Reveille with Beverly:

There’s young Betty Roché singing and Ray Nance showing off some dance steps. The band is shown performing on a railroad train — even though the real “A” Train was a subway line. The story goes that Duke told Strayhorn to “take the A Train” to reach his home in Sugar Hill.

Good thing Billy made the trip!

Sixties Saturday: Shelley!

📦 Warehouse Stack: Colpix, 1962 — One Perfect Pop Moment

I saw the sad news that Shelley Fabares passed away last week at age 82.

I always associate her most with The Donna Reed Show, and with the great hit single that spun out of her time on that series — Johnny Angel.

Let’s give that 1962 Colpix record a spin:

Shelley was the first to admit she wasn’t really a singer, but Johnny Angel is such a lovely little pop confection — soft, sweet, and shimmering with that early‑’60s innocence.

Am I partial to it because it has Johnny in the title? Maybe just a little!

But honestly, if I were a teenager on a late‑1950s/early‑1960s sitcom, I would totally want "Mary Stone" to be my girlfriend!

Rest in peace, Shelley.

Monday Side‑Session: Flamingo’s Flight

For today’s side‑session, let’s follow the flight path of Flamingo across twenty‑five years — a tune that kept finding new thermals to ride.

🕊️ Lift‑Off

We begin in 1941, right after Duke Ellington’s hit sent the song fluttering through the band world. First up: Gene Krupa with vocalist Howard Du Lany for Okeh.

They’re clearly reaching for the Ellington flavor — the dreamy glide, the velvet phrasing — but the record never quite settles into that same atmosphere.

Let's slide the needle over to Jimmie Lunceford with Dan Grissom on Decca:

A smooth, confident reading. Lunceford’s band always had that satin‑finish polish, and it fits Flamingo nicely.

My favorite early cover is this Freddy Martin instrumental on Bluebird:

Freddy’s band takes Flamingo somewhere else entirely — a cool, floating place with that silky tenor sax leading the way. I’m absolutely tagging along!

🔥 Thermals Rising

Let's jump ahead a decade to 1951, when Flamingo suddenly rockets up the R&B charts thanks to Earl Bostic’s alto feature on King:

That’s the definitive version for a whole generation — volcanic tone, acrobatic phrasing, and a groove that grabs you by the collar.

🌤️ Crosswind Curiosity

Earl’s shadow looms large over this 1958 Mercury release by The Gaylords:

It honestly feels like sax man Eddie Chamblee was cutting a straight cover of the Bostic hit when The Gaylords wandered in and started singing Italian lyrics. A charming collision!

🌙 Night‑Flight

As we move into 1961, the King label returns with a popular vocal take by Little Willie John:

I love those R&B sides from that period that weave strings into the mix — they give Flamingo a kind of moonlit shimmer.

🌴 Jet‑Age Glidepath

And for our final landing, we touch down in 1966 with Herb Alpert & the Tijuana Brass on A&M:

That’s Flamingo in full mid‑’60s technicolor — crisp, bright, and perfectly transformed for the era.

🪶 A Quarter‑Century Migration

From Herb Jeffries to Herb Alpert, Flamingo covers a lot of sky. A tune born in Ellington’s world that kept reinventing itself every time it caught a new breeze.

📦 Warehouse Whispers: A Curious Tailwind

Interestingly, Gene Krupa’s version of Flamingo was the flipside of his hit Let Me Off Uptown. And here’s the fun twist: Let Me Off Uptown was co‑written by Earl Bostic!

Coincidence? A stray breeze in the release schedule? Or maybe Flamingo was already circling Bostic’s orbit long before 1951. Hmmm…

Sundays with Duke #34: The Flamingo Takes Flight

We stay parked in 1940 for one more Ellington jewel — Flamingo.

This tune didn’t come from Duke or anyone in the band. It was written by Ted Grouya (music) and Edmund Anderson (lyrics), two writers Duke had just signed to Tempo Music, his new non‑Irving Mills publishing company. He needed fresh material fast: beginning January 1, 1941, radio stations were set to ban all ASCAP‑controlled songs. Duke — and most major composers — were ASCAP members. Suddenly he needed non‑ASCAP songs in the book, and he needed them yesterday. Enter Grouya, Anderson and Billy Strayhorn.

Duke handed Flamingo to Strayhorn to arrange, and the band recorded it for Victor in November 1940, with Billy at the piano and Herb Jeffries floating that dreamy vocal over the top.

Let’s spin it:

That’s a tremendous record. It doesn’t sound like anything else — not in 1940, not in any decade. Herb’s voice doesn’t just sing the melody; it threads itself through the arrangement.

Herb was also a singing cowboy!

And Herb himself was an interesting character: Duke’s first regularly featured male vocalist, he lived to be 100.

I first heard Flamingo on a Reader’s Digest big‑band compilation ages ago, and it jumped out immediately. Johnny Hodges’ alto solo especially — nobody else sounded like that.

The record became a major hit in 1941 and even found its way into a Soundie:

Always fun to see the band!

After Duke's original version hit, plenty of covers appeared, but let’s stay close to the Ellington universe for now.

1944 — The Trio (Signature Records)

Now let’s jump ahead — clean needle drop — to 1944. Here’s an instrumental version credited to The Trio: Eddie Heywood (piano), a young Shelley Manne (drums), and — crucially — Johnny Hodges on alto.

A very cool take. Johnny gets room to stretch out compared to his brief but unforgettable 1940 solo. It’s Flamingo with the spotlight tilted just a little differently.

Herb Keeps His Signature Tune

Flamingo suited Herb Jeffries perfectly, so he kept it in his repertoire after leaving Duke in 1942. He recorded it several times, each one a little postcard from wherever he was musically at the moment.

1950 — Exclusive Records

This 1950 version is from Heb's Magenta Moods album for the Exclusive label:

Nice backing from Buddy Baker — lush, late‑night stuff.

1952 — Coral Records (with Les Brown)

Then Herb teamed with Les Brown and his Band of Renown for this 1952 Coral release:

A lovely version — Les’s band earns its “Renown.” Herb sounds relaxed, confident, like he knows exactly how this tune fits him.

1951 — The Billy Strayhorn Trio

We slide back a year for an instrumental version by The Billy Strayhorn Trio — Billy and Duke sharing piano duties, with Wendell Marshall on bass. Same Mercer release that included their Cotton Tail duet.

Always fascinating to hear Billy and Duke trading piano lines. It’s like watching two master painters sketch the same subject from opposite corners of the room.

1953 — Duke Ellington (Capitol Records)

And now we jump forward again — new label, new decade, same bird — to Duke’s full‑band instrumental version for his 1953 Capitol album Premiered by Ellington:

That’s (of course) Ray Nance on violin and Paul Gonsalves on tenor. Johnny Hodges was leading his own band at the time, between Ellington stints.

That's an interesting early concept album — songs that Duke introduced and/or popularized, but didn't compose.

1954 — Al Hibbler (Norgran Records)

We close with Al Hibbler, who sang Flamingo many times with Duke after replacing Herb Jeffries as the band’s male vocalist. His 1954 version comes from Sings Duke Ellington on Norgran:

Al sings it straight, clearly drawing from Herb’s original phrasing — and he sounds terrific. It’s a respectful, confident reading, like he’s stepping into a suit tailored by someone else but wearing it well.

The Flamingo’s Flight Path

So there’s our little aerial tour of Flamingo — from Herb’s original glide to Hodges stretching out, to Strayhorn and Duke at the piano, to Hibbler’s elegant tribute. A tune that kept finding new thermals to ride.

Tomorrow, we’ll catch even more versions and let this bird keep flying!

Friday Fun: Puff! Puff! Puff!

Let’s keep the smoke theme rolling and land on perhaps the most famous song ever written about the habit — Tex Williams’ monster 1947 hit Smoke! Smoke! Smoke! (That Cigarette).

Tex Lights the Match

Here’s Tex and his Western Caravan on Capitol:

I adore everything about this record — Tex’s sly, bone-dry delivery, the clever lyric, and that Western Swing arrangement that snaps like a match being struck.

The record was a genuine phenomenon, climbing all the way to number one on the pop charts, which was no small feat for a country record in 1947. Tex and co-writer Merle Travis had that rare crossover magic.

Phil Unfiltered

Naturally, other labels wanted a drag off the hit, and RCA Victor handed the song to a man who could deliver a novelty number like this in his sleep — Phil Harris, backed by The Sportsmen:

A song like this sits so squarely in Phil’s wheelhouse that if you didn’t know Tex’s original, you might assume Phil was the one it was written for.

And I love the contrast: Tex leans into the talking‑blues patter, while Phil more talk‑sings his way through the verses, giving it that Harris grin.

Did Someone Say Monster Hit?

I totally want Bobby's cardigan!

Plenty of other versions followed — some charming, some forgettable — but let’s close with one that’s simply too odd not to share.

Here’s Bobby “Boris” Pickett and the Filter‑Tip Kickers on RCA Victor in 1964:

Now, I love Smoke! Smoke! Smoke! and I love Monster Mash, but I’m not entirely sure what to think when those two worlds collide. It’s like someone dropped a cigarette into a bubbling cauldron and said, “Eh, let’s see what happens.”

Still — whatever you do — don’t puff, puff, puff yourself to death!

Threaded Thursday - Smoky

From yesterday’s Dream, we tug on that silky 1940s Capitol Records thread — the soft‑focus, late‑night “dream” vibe — and land right on Jo Stafford’s 1947 recording of Smoke Dreams.

Let’s spin Jo’s Capitol side:

Jo is, of course, Jo: effortless, centered, and luminous. She gets gentle, velvety support from The Starlighters and her future husband Paul Weston, whose arranging always feels like it's guiding you through the tune.

Smoke Dreams served as the theme song for radio’s Chesterfield Supper Club, where Jo alternated hosting duties with Perry Como. Hard to believe now, but there was a time when cigarette companies practically owned the airwaves — huge sponsors of network programs, and cigarette references floated casually through popular songs like it was just part of the weather.

But here’s the twist: Smoke Dreams wasn’t a one‑song title. There was an earlier tune with the same name, featured in MGM’s 1936 picture After the Thin Man.

So let’s spin Benny Goodman’s Victor recording of that Smoke Dreams, sung by the incomparable Helen Ward:

This comes from Helen’s final session with the Goodman band. And while Benny certainly had wonderful canaries after her — Martha Tilton, Helen Forrest, Peggy Lee — Helen Ward had a quality that never quite got duplicated. A kind of direct, unaffected warmth that sat right in the center of the beat.

And the song itself? You’d think it would be another cigarette‑smoke reverie, but no — this one is about campfire smoke drifting into the night. Two songs, same title, totally different worlds.

Hope you enjoyed these spins. And remember, kids: don’t smoke — and only you can prevent forest fires.

Word Association Wednesday: That’s the Thing to Do

Following Sunday’s Day Dream and rolling right into today’s WAW, my train of thought took a few scenic turns — there are so many songs with “dream” in the title. So why not go straight to Dream, the 1945 classic by Johnny Mercer.

🌙 The First Few Winks

Johnny was one of the bosses at Capitol Records at the time, and he handed the tune to his frequent collaborators The Pied Pipers, who recorded it in late 1944 for release in early ’45.

Let’s spin it:

That record was a huge hit, and it’s easy to hear why — it’s really a dream.

By then, June Hutton had stepped in as the Pipers’ lead singer, replacing Jo Stafford, who was busy becoming a solo star on Capitol.

💫 Frankie's Fantasy

Once the Pied Pipers’ version took off, other labels naturally jumped aboard. Over at Columbia, Frank Sinatra recorded it a little later in 1945:

The song fits young Frankie like a glove. Cue the bobby-soxers!

✨ Martin's Mirage

Singers like Sinatra were starting to take over in 1945, but big bands were still holding strong, so Victor had Freddy Martin cut Dream with vocalist Artie Wayne:

A typically smooth reading from the Martin band with a somewhat haunting vibe.

🌜 Jimmy’s Alto Apparition

Meanwhile, over on Decca, Jimmy Dorsey recorded the tune with Teddy Walters:

Jimmy’s alto floats right through that lush arrangement.

🌠 Castle in the Air

For one more band take, we head to the small Musicraft label, where trumpet star Lee Castle recorded his version with Tony Dexter:

Lovely trumpet work from Lee on that one.

💤 Santo & Johnny's Somnambulism

Plenty of other versions of Dream have appeared over the years. Let’s close out with this 1959 track on the Canadian American label from Santo & Johnny:

They’re in full Sleepwalk mode — and I love it!

Warehouse Whispers

Johnny Mercer was known primarily as a lyricist, and out of the approximately one zillion songs in his catalog, Dream is one of the very few for which he wrote both the lyrics and the music.

Quite a dream!