Sundays with Duke #31: Ben’s Big Breakthrough

Staying in 1940 with Duke Ellington, we flip over last week’s Victor disc of Never No Lament (Don’t Get Around Much Anymore) and land on another stone‑cold classic — Cotton Tail.

Ben Barges In

This side was essentially Ben Webster’s coming‑out party with the Ellington orchestra. Duke had never truly featured a tenor sax soloist before Ben arrived, and Cotton Tail became the perfect vehicle for his huge, urgent, modern sound.

Let’s spin it:

Forward‑thinking for 1940, influential for generations, and still fresh 86 years later.

Ben in Motion: The “Hot Chocolate” Soundie

Here’s the fun Soundie Hot Chocolate, showing Ben and the band tearing it up on camera:

Some fancy jitterbugging going on, too!

You may also notice that the title card shows the name of the song as "Cottontail," following the Stardust/Moonglow route!

Before Ben: No Tenor Stars

As I mentioned, it's fascinating that before Webster joined, Duke’s band had no featured tenor sax soloist. Barney Bigard played tenor in the section but took his solos on clarinet. Once Ben arrived, Duke always kept a tenor star on the roster — and each got their crack at Cotton Tail.

As an example, here’s Al Sears giving it his own spin on a 1945 aircheck:

That's an interesting bit from the announcer about the tunes title — I wonder if it's true!

A Tenor‑less Twist: Billy Strayhorn Trio (1951)

One of the most unusual versions is this 1951 Mercer label recording by the Billy Strayhorn Trio — no tenor sax at all:

Just Duke and Billy sharing piano duties, with Wendell Marshall on bass. A completely different texture.

Ben After Duke: King of the Tenors

Of course, Ben kept “Cotton Tail” in his book long after leaving Ellington. Here’s a great 1954 take from his Norgran LP The Consummate Artistry of Ben Webster (reissued as King of the Tenors on Verve in 1957):

He really was King of the Tenors!

Ella’s Scat‑Driven Spin

The tune doesn’t naturally lend itself to lyrics, but that didn’t stop Ella Fitzgerald from recording a mostly‑scat version for her 1957 Duke Ellington Songbook album on Verve:

That’s Ben on tenor, name‑checked by Ella, with Stuff Smith on violin and Barney Kessel on guitar adding tasty solos.

Ella at Duke’s Place

Ella returned to the tune in 1966 for this great take with Duke and the band from the Verve album Ella at Duke’s Place:

Totally different vibe — Ella becomes a featured “instrument,” with the band swirling around her. Paul Gonsalves gets a brief tenor moment, and Cat Anderson fires off those trademark high‑note blasts from the trumpet section.

Here's a great video of Ella with Duke and the band also from 1966:

Paul Gonsalves gets a nice "duet" with Ella and everyone seems to be having a blast — I think Johnny Hodges even cracked a smile!

Louis Armstrong & Duke

Let’s sneak back to 1961 for a similar vocal approach by Louis Armstrong with his All Stars and Duke, from their Roulette album Recording Together for the First Time:

Satch and Duke are in fine form, and Trummy Young on trombone and Barney Bigard on clarinet are awesome!

Lambert, Hendricks & Ross

We close with a full vocal version — Lambert, Hendricks & Ross from their 1960 Columbia album Sing Ellington:

This track is notable as I think it's the only version of the song with full lyrics. It’s clever and interesting, though maybe a little too cutesy for my taste. As always, your mileage may vary.

Stamped, carted and shelved — and as Ella says, "That’s Cot-ton Tail!"

Threaded Thursday: Lots of Sugar

Following yesterday’s Clyde McCoy song Wah‑Wah Lament, it feels downright mandatory to stay on the McCoy thread and spin his signature number, Sugar Blues — the tune that made Clyde’s wah‑wah trumpet a national novelty sensation.

Columbia, 1931 — The First Taste

Clyde’s original 1931 Columbia recording is a fabulous showcase for that unmistakable wah‑wah style. It’s instantly clear why the record caught fire: nobody else sounded like this, and nobody else could sound like this.

Decca, 1935 — The Definitive Sugar

This is the version I first knew, and it remains the definitive take for me. Clyde kept the same basic arrangement for decades, but this Decca side has that perfect balance of novelty, swagger, and sweetness.

Capitol, 1952 — Sugar Blues Boogie

Clyde must have performed the tune a zillion times in that style, but this Capitol remake is a fun curveball. The “Boogie” treatment gives the old warhorse a fresh coat of paint without losing the trademark wah‑wah personality.

Todd, 1959 — Hot Sugar Blues

Another playful arrangement, and it sounds especially nice in stereo. Clyde knew how to keep his calling card fresh without ever abandoning the thing that made him Clyde. But Waa-Waa?

Lots of Sugar, Lots of Fun

I love novelty records, intentionally corny music, and idiosyncratic trumpet players — so Sugar Blues has a special place in my heart. And if that sentiment sounds as corny as Clyde’s trumpet, well… that’s part of the charm!

Bonus: Ella Enters

You may have noticed that the sheet music at the top of this post mentions that Ella Fitzgerald had her own Decca recording of Sugar Blues, so let’s give her 1940 version a spin:

This comes from the period when Ella was fronting the Chick Webb band after Webb’s untimely death in 1939. It’s always interesting to hear a non‑wah‑wah take on the tune — Ella brings a completely different kind of sweetness.

McCoy Matinee

Before we leave, here's a fun movie short from 1938 featuring Clyde McCoy and his band:

Always nice to see vintage musicians in "live" action!

Word Association Wednesday: Clyde’s Lament

Today’s WAW spins straight out of Never No Lament, and in my little corner of the musical universe, “lament” can only mean one thing: a wah‑wah lament — courtesy of the king of the wah‑wah trumpeters himself, Clyde McCoy!

The 1933 Columbia Cry

Clyde first put Wah‑Wah Lament on wax for Columbia in 1933:

It absolutely lives up to the title — pure Clyde, pure wah‑wah, pure personality.

Flip It!

And because we always enjoy flipsides here in the Warehouse, let’s turn that Columbia disc over for Nobody’s Sweetheart:

Clyde’s trumpet work here is a touch less wah‑wah‑y (if that’s a word), but still unmistakably his:

The 1935 Decca Detour

When Clyde moved over to Decca in the mid‑1930s, he revisited several of his popular numbers, including a 1935 remake of Wah! Wah! Lament:

Two exclamation points and plenty of wah‑wah — Clyde wasn’t about to leave his signature sound behind.

Flip It Again!

Flip that Decca disc and you get Dry Ice:

A surprisingly straight performance: not much trumpet, not much stylization, just a cool little side that shows Clyde could dial it back when he wanted to.

Final Spin

All in all, when Clyde McCoy is on the turntable, there’s never no lament — except, of course, a wah‑wah lament!

Monday Side‑Session: Getting Around

Today we follow up on Duke Ellington’s great classic Don’t Get Around Much Anymore with a tour through the song’s earliest years of popularity, beginning in 1942. It’s one of those tunes that instantly took root, and the recordings from its first decade show just how quickly it spread — even across oceans and wartime recording bans.

The Ink Spots (Decca, 1942)

The Ink Spots delivered the definitive early vocal version, a big Decca hit that kind of deconstructs the song. They treat it as a pure vocal number, complete with the rarely‑heard verse — a lovely touch that sets their reading apart.

Glen Gray & the Casa Loma Orchestra with Kenny Sargent and The LeBrun Sisters (Decca, 1942)

A solid, polished band version recorded just days before the AFM recording ban slammed the door shut. Good thing we got at least one full band treatment with lyrics before the freeze.

Hal Goodman & His Orchestra (Hit label, 1943)

The Hit label specialized in “sounds‑like‑they-could-be-real” bandleaders, and “Hal Goodman” fits the mold. The performance is… well… typically whelming, but it’s historically interesting as one of the few U.S. recordings to fill the gap during the ban.

Tommy Dorsey with Betty Brewer (Aircheck, 1943)

A refreshing reminder of what a real band could do with the tune. Betty Brewer is introduced as a “thrush” rather than a canary — and she delivers a charming, confident vocal over Dorsey’s smooth ensemble.

Across the Atlantic: No Ban, More Fun

With the U.S. recording ban in full effect, we hop to Europe, where studios kept rolling.

Ambrose with Anne Shelton (British Decca, 1943)

A lovely version with some Johnny Hodges‑inspired alto sax lines and Anne’s warm vocal. Elegant and very British in the best way.

Geraldo with Three Boys and a Girl (Parlophone, 1943)

The “girl” is Doreen Villiers, whose vocal — paired with gentle guitar reminiscent of the Ink Spots — makes this another standout U.K. reading.

Billy Toffel & the Original Teddies (Elite Special, Sweden, 1943)

A spirited Swedish take. Billy’s English is a little... challenged, but the band swings nicely.

Alice Babs (HMV, Sweden, 1943)

Utterly delightful! Alice’s accent adds personality, and it’s fun hearing her tackle an Ellington tune two decades before her Serenade to Sweden collaboration with Duke.

Kai Ewans & His Swinging 16 (Tono, Denmark, 1944)

A lively Danish version with more Hodges‑style alto and even a Cootie Williams‑esque trumpet break. Great energy!

Back to the U.S.

One more version to close out the 1940s...

Rody Erickson & His Dude Ranch Boys (Black & White, 1948)

A novelty‑leaning, Red Ingle‑flavored romp — clearly having fun with the tune rather than treating it reverently. A blast!

Closing Thoughts

It’s a treat to hear how quickly Don’t Get Around Much Anymore traveled — from Decca hits to wartime airchecks to British dance bands to Scandinavian swing outfits. These early recordings show the tune’s adaptability and charm long before it became a standard with zillions of versions to follow.

Sundays with Duke #30: No Lament At All

We remain in 1940 with Duke Ellington as we come across another true classic — Don’t Get Around Much Anymore.

It’s so well‑known by that title, and there have been so many vocal versions, that it’s easy to forget the tune began life as an instrumental under a different name. But aficionados know the band first recorded and released it as Never No Lament.

Let’s spin that 1940 Victor recording:

That’s one of those sides where everything locks in: the catchy tune, the tight ensemble work, and the brilliant solos by Johnny Hodges on alto, Cootie Williams on trumpet, and Lawrence Brown on trombone.

This was one of the earliest Ellington records I ever bumped into — it showed up on a couple of various‑artists compilations — and it went a long way toward making me realize just how great a band this was.

🖋️ A New Name, A New Life

As with Concerto for Cootie, after the original release, Bob Russell added lyrics and the title was changed to the familiar Don’t Get Around Much Anymore.

Unlike Concerto for Cootie / Do Nothin’ Till You Hear from Me, the original title Never No Lament faded into the mist. I get it — I can’t “un‑hear” the lyrics anymore, even when listening to an instrumental version.

Victor reissued Duke’s 1940 recording under the new title during the recording ban, and just like the Do Nothin’ reissue, it became a huge hit.

🎤 Hibbler Sings It

Despite the popularity of the vocal version, Duke seldom performed it with a singer, though the instrumental stayed in heavy rotation from then on.

He did record a studio vocal version for Columbia with Al Hibbler in 1947:

Al leans way more into his vocal eccentricities here than he did on Do Nothin’ Till You Hear from Me (recorded during the same timeframe), and he can’t quite get the words straight!

🎺The Ellington Alumni Parade Begins

From here, we’ve got a parade of Ellington‑adjacent versions. If you’ve been following along, you’ll know the artists by their first names: Ben, Rex, Ella, Cat, Cootie, Johnny and Louis!

🎷Ben's Velvet Tenor (1954)

Ben Webster lends his tenor to the tune on his 1954 Norgran album The Consummate Artistry of Ben Webster:

A lofty album title — but they’re not wrong!

🎺 Rex Rolls In (1955)

Next up, Rex Stewart with his 1955 take for Elite:

Great to hear Lawrence Brown alongside Rex.

🎙️ Ella Reimagines the Lyric (1957)

Ella Fitzgerald returns with this cut from her 1957 Duke Ellington Songbook album on Verve:

Ella takes even more liberties with the lyrics than Al Hibbler!

🎺 Cat Hits the Stratosphere (1959)

We move to 1959 for Cat Anderson’s version from his wonderfully titled Mercury album Cat on a Hot Tin Horn:

Those high notes — pure Cat!

🎺 Cootie Circles Back (1960)

Cootie Williams, the trumpet star from the original 1940 recording, returns with another track from his 1960 Warwick album Do Nothing Till You Hear from Cootie:

It’s fascinating to compare the styles of Cootie, Cat, and Rex.

🎷 Johnny Brings It Home (1962)

Johnny Hodges brings his alto back to the tune for his 1962 Verve album Johnny Hodges with Billy Strayhorn and the Orchestra:

Awkward title — great record. In addition to Billy Strayhorn, Cat, Lawrence and Harry Carney are among the Ellingtonians on the album!

🎺 Duke & Satchmo Share the Spotlight (1963)

Duke himself returns as he joins Louis Armstrong and his All‑Stars on their Roulette album The Great Reunion:

Trummy Young on trombone and old pal Barney Bigard on clarinet give great support to Satch (who sings the lyrics pretty straight) and Duke.

The track was actually recorded in 1961 during the sessions for Duke and Louis’ earlier album — they cut so many sides that there was enough for another release a couple of years later. So, not exactly a reunion!

🎶 A Snappy Reprise (1965)

Finally, Duke and the band deliver this crisp instrumental take from the 1965 Reprise album Will Big Bands Ever Return?:

It was recorded in late 1962, with Johnny, Cootie, and Lawrence all back in the fold — so at least that band returned.

📀 A Tune with a Thousand Lives

These recordings barely scratch the surface of the zillions of versions of Don’t Get Around Much Anymore, but what a scratch we scratched!

Threaded Thursday: Just Fine

I’d talked a bit yesterday about Freddy Martin’s big 1941 hit Piano Concerto in B‑Flat originally being the B‑side of its Bluebird single, and I’d also mentioned vocalist Eddie Stone, so let’s pick up that thread.

Eddie Brings the Energy

Here’s the intended A‑side, Why Don’t We Do This More Often?, with Eddie on the vocal:

Eddie’s bouncy, good‑natured style is all over this — he had that light, smiling delivery that made even a simple pop tune feel like a little party.

I remember reading an interview with Freddy Martin where he said the publisher and/or songwriters (Charles Newman and Allie Wrubel) weren’t thrilled that their song was paired with “some classical piano thing” on the flip. I’m sure the mountain of royalties changed their minds once the “classical piano thing” became one of the biggest hits of the year!

Duet Delight

The most popular version of Why Don’t We Do This More Often? wasn’t Martin’s, though — it was Kay Kyser’s Columbia recording, a duet by Ginny Simms and Harry Babbitt:

I really love this version. Ginny and Harry were two of my favorite band vocalists, and they always blended beautifully — warm, relaxed, and effortlessly musical.

I’ve mentioned before that by the early 1940s the Kyser band had broken free from the strict novelty formula of the 1930s. This cut is Exhibit A. No gimmicks, no winks — just clean, confident dance‑band pop with two pros at the mic.

As Ginny says, everything’s just fine!

Word Association Wednesday: We Love Concertos

Following Sunday’s Concerto for Cootie, my train of thought didn’t have far to travel before hopping over to Freddy Martin’s massive 1941 hit, Piano Concerto in B‑Flat.

🎹 Ballroom B‑Flat Brilliance

Let’s spin Freddy’s original Bluebird recording featuring pianist Jack Fina:

I think that’s just a tremendous record — one of my favorites of the whole era. There’s a certain lift to it, a ballroom‑bright excitement that’s hard to pin down, but easy to understand why audiences went wild for it at the time.

📀  B‑Side Bewilderment

For years, I mostly encountered this same recording on reissues and big‑band compilations labeled as Tchaikovsky Piano Concerto No. 1, with Jack Fina prominently credited as pianist and arranger. So imagine my surprise when I finally came across the unassumingly titled Bluebird single, which instead credits Ray Austin as arranger and doesn’t mention Fina at all — and it's the B-side!

🎤 “Tonight We Love” Takes Over

Whatever the paperwork says, the record was a smash — and as often happens with hit instrumentals, lyrics soon followed. The tune became best known as Tonight We Love, and Freddy adopted it as his theme song. He also recorded a hit vocal version for Bluebird with Clyde Rogers later in 1941:

Nice enough, but you really can’t beat the original instrumental.

🎶 Concerto Contenders

A nearly forgotten footnote: before Tonight We Love took over, there was a rival lyric version titled Concerto for Two. A couple of bands recorded it, then it slipped into obscurity. I do appreciate that Concerto for Two keeps the “concerto” theme alive.

Claude Thornhill recorded a lovely version for Columbia, so let’s give that one a spin:

Also mostly forgotten today is vocalist Dick Harding, but I’ve always liked his work with Thornhill’s band.

📡 Miller’s Majestic Makeover

Back to the instrumental itself — Glenn Miller had a terrific Bill Finegan arrangement that he never recorded commercially, but we can enjoy this November 1941 aircheck:

I love how the audience hums along, completely swept up in the moment. The arrangement is less pianocentric and very Miller‑esque, with that familiar glide and polish.

🎹 Lopez Looks In

Let’s also drop the needle on this 1941 cover by veteran pianist/bandleader Vincent Lopez, issued on the Classic Record Company label:

It’s fun — not quite in Freddy’s league — but I do enjoy Lopez’s little piano flourishes. He plays it less like a concerto and more like one of his piano specialties!

🎬 RKO Reveries & 44th Street Showmanship

To finish, let’s return to Freddy Martin with a clip from the 1942 RKO film The Mayor of 44th Street, featuring Freddy and the band performing the Piano Concerto:

It’s wonderful to see this “live” version, and I always appreciate when a musical performance isn’t interrupted by dialogue. I’m especially intrigued by sprightly vocalist Eddie Stone playing violin with such a serious expression!

So, there we are — the little concerto that could!