Threaded Thursday: After Hours Sessions

While listening to various versions of Fine and Dandy yesterday, I mentioned that Avery Parrish’s piano on the Erskine Hawkins side reminded me of After Hours. So let’s tug that thread and see where it leads.

🎹 Avery Sets the Mood

Here’s the 1940 Bluebird recording of After Hours by Erskine Hawkins and his Orchestra:

It’s easy to understand why that record was a sensation in 1940 — Avery Parrish’s piano pulls you straight into that after‑hours glow and never lets you out.

A little label intrigue: the initial releases listed Erskine Hawkins as the sole composer, but later reissues correctly credit Avery Parrish. I’ve never gotten the sense Hawkins tried to claim the tune; it feels more like a paperwork shuffle than a dispute.

🔥 Floorshow Steps In — 1949

Things get even more interesting with this 1949 side by tenor man Frank “Floorshow” Culley, titled After Hour Session on Atlantic:

To my ears, that’s at most a “re‑imagining” of After Hours, even though Culley and pianist Van Walls are listed as the composers. Whatever the case, After Hour Session is a tasty little groove — and it was a solid R&B hit at the time.

🌙 Benny’s Midnight Trio — 1953

The original title returns — with proper composer credit to Avery Parrish — on this elegant 1952 take by the Benny Goodman Trio on Capitol:

Benny is joined by his frequent small‑group partner Teddy Wilson on piano and the great Jimmy Crawford on drums. BG always surrounded himself with the best!

🍸Mancini at the Blue Hour — 1960

Let’s mix it up with one more version: Henry Mancini’s 1960 reading from The Blues and the Beat:

That’s pure Mancini — smooth, modern, and quietly luxurious. I dig that early‑’60s studio sheen.

Any of these sessions would make fine company for an after‑hours listen. And honestly, the fun is hearing how one little blues thread gets rewoven across twenty years of American music.

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 – Very Mellow

For today’s Word Association Wednesday, we take the “mellow” from In a Mellow Tone and let it drift us over to Billie Holiday’s Fine and Mellow — a song that wears its title perfectly.

Billie Sets the Mood (1939)

Billie first recorded it in 1939 for the Commodore label:

Billie wrote the tune herself, and it appeared as the flipside of her searing, history‑making recording of Strange Fruit. Even with that kind of company, Fine and Mellow holds its own — a blues that feels lived‑in, unhurried, and unmistakably Billie.

Erskine Hawkins & Dolores Brown (1939)

A couple of bands picked it up after Billie’s version hit. Here’s Erskine Hawkins with vocalist Dolores Brown on Bluebird from late 1939:

I like this one a lot. Dolores Brown isn’t Billie — nobody is — but she brings a nice, steady presence. The real star for me, though, is pianist Avery Parrish. His playing here already hints at the mood and touch of his big hit After Hours, which he’d record just a few months later.

Andy Kirk & June Richmond (1940)

Andy Kirk took a swing at the tune in 1940 with June Richmond:

June’s vocal is terrific. She’s not trying to imitate Billie; she’s got her own thing going, and it works beautifully. And Mary Lou Williams on piano? Always a treat — she lifts every record she touches.

Nellie Lutcher and Her Rhythm (1947)

The pianists keep rolling as we jump ahead to 1947 for one more version. This time it’s Nellie Lutcher, playing and singing for Capitol:

Nellie always makes a song sound like it was written for her. She reshapes the tune just enough to make it feel like a Nellie Lutcher original.

Billie in Full Bloom — The Sound of Jazz (1957)

Before we wrap up, let’s watch Billie herself performing Fine and Mellow on the 1957 television special The Sound of Jazz, surrounded by a stellar group of musicians:

Billie really seems to savor those instrumental solos between her vocal choruses — listening, reacting, almost conducting with her eyes.

So yes… fine and mellow indeed.

Monday Side-Session: A Pair of Panoramas

Following yesterday’s Duke Ellington classic In a Mellotone, we stay right in 1940 for a Victor 78 that carries two of Duke’s most vivid little city‑scenes. Both sides deserve their moment in the spotlight.

Side A: Sepia Panorama

Billy Strayhorn shaped the evocative arrangement with Duke, and the band paints in alternating strokes: Juan Tizol’s velvet valve‑trombone, Harry Carney’s deep‑toned baritone, Cootie Williams’ growl trumpet and Ben Webster’s unmistakable warm tenor. Underneath it all, Jimmie Blanton threads those typically brilliant bass passages—little bursts of invention that seem to tilt the whole piece forward.

Side B: Harlem Air‑Shaft

Barney Bigard slips in a couple of gracefully gliding clarinet spots, and Tricky Sam Nanton brings his signature plunger trombone murmur. Cootie switches to open trumpet here—no mute, just that bright, ringing tone for his main solo, but he sneaks a little muted trumpet bit in between Barney's solos.

Duke once explained the title: an air shaft in a Harlem apartment building was like a neighborhood radio—carrying the sounds of people cooking, arguing, singing, laughing. Everyday life drifting upward in fragments.

Two Vignettes of 1940 Harlem

Taken together, Sepia Panorama and Harlem Air‑Shaft feel like companion pieces—two quick, vivid sketches of Harlem life in 1940. Duke’s orchestra wasn’t just playing dance music; they were capturing the atmosphere of a place, a moment, a community — all filtered through one of the most inventive orchestras ever assembled. They matter because they’re not just performances; they’re portraits.

Sundays with Duke #32: The Mellow Tone

We’re still parked in 1940 with Duke Ellington, and we’ve hit another classic: In a Mellotone.

Let’s spin the original Victor recording:

Johnny Hodges and Cootie Williams are in peak form — Cootie even slips in a sly quote from Never No Lament at the tail end of his solo — but it’s Jimmie Blanton’s bass that steals the spotlight. His lines practically glow.

From Mellotone to Mellow Tone

Duke kept the tune in the band’s book throughout the 1940s, but the song found a second life in the 1950s when producer Milt Gabler added lyrics and nudged the title toward the now-familiar In a Mellow Tone.

Milt had The Mills Brothers record it for Decca in 1955 with Sy Oliver arranging:

It’s a delight — how can you beat the Mills/Oliver combination?

Funny that it took fifteen years for someone to add lyrics — the melody practically chants “in a mellow tone” on its own.

Ella Steps In

Once lyrics existed, Ella Fitzgerald naturally grabbed the tune for her 1957 Duke Ellington Songbook album — one of my favorite playgrounds:

Ella stretches out beautifully here, weaving between the written lyrics and her trademark scat. And yes, Ben Webster is still along for the ride, adding that warm velvet to the edges.

Duke Revisits the Instrumental

Duke circled back to the tune in 1960 for his Columbia album Blues in Orbit, keeping it strictly instrumental:

By this point, the “Mellow Tone” title had fully overtaken the original “Mellotone” spelling — the mellow won.

Louis Joins the Party

Duke recorded another instrumental version in 1961 with Louis Armstrong on Recording Together for the First Time — another favorite playground:

It’s interesting that Louis doesn’t sing the lyrics — even though they existed by then — yet he scats on Cotton Tail, which didn’t have lyrics. Satchmo gonna Satchmo.

And just to keep us on our toes, the label lists the tune as In a Mellowtone!

Here's a link to Duke and Louis performing the song in 1961 on The Ed Sullivan Show:

It's great that so many Sullivan shows were preserved so we can enjoy seeing these wonderful artists!

Betty's Baby

As far as I can tell, Duke never recorded a version using Milt Gabler’s lyrics. But things get wonderfully twisty when we get to Betty Roché, whose specialty with the Ellington band featured a totally different set of lyrics.

Here’s a 1953 live recording of Betty singing the Baby, You and Me variant:

The announcer mentions the lyrics and title change at the beginning and says it's "soon to be released" at the end — but I can't figure out what release he's referring to!

As far as I can tell, Duke never cut a studio version of that variation, but Betty did — for Bethlehem in 1956:

And here’s the fun part: Bethlehem kept the title In a Mellow Tone and even credited Milt Gabler, despite the lyrics being completely different. I’m guessing Milt didn’t write both sets… but you know we love a little label intrigue!

Billy Brings the Moves

We close out with a wonderfully wacky take on the tune, as Billy May turns it into a cha‑cha for his 1960 Capitol album Cha Cha!:

Billy was well‑known for his sense of humor, and it absolutely shows here — the arrangement is playful, brassy, and just a little mischievous. And what a good sport he was to pose for the album cover in that get‑up. The man committed to the bit!

Whatever the Title…

Whether it’s Mellotone, Mellow Tone, Mellowtone or even Baby, You and Me, one thing stays constant — the tone is mellow!

Friday Fun: Freberg's "Friday"

Today marks the centennial of master satirist Stan Freberg (1926-2015), born 100 years ago and still one of the sharpest, funniest minds ever to hit a recording studio.

So let’s celebrate the man properly — by spinning his biggest hit, the immortal Dragnet spoof St. George and the Dragonet, released on Capitol in 1953.

That record is an absolute jewel: a full comedy sketch disguised as a single, packed with Freberg’s layered gags, timing, and that deadpan Dragnet delivery.

It was so wildly popular that it actually hit number one on the Billboard singles chart — almost unheard‑of for a spoken‑word novelty record.

And since the flipside, Little Blue Riding Hood, was also a crowd‑pleaser, we’re not leaving it behind. Let's flip the disc and spin it:

I’m a lifelong novelty‑record nut, and Freberg sits right at the top of the mountain for me. His records aren’t just jokes — they’re miniature audio plays, built with precision, running gags, and a whole cast of characters ably brought to life with the assistance of Stan's coconspirators Daws Butler and June Foray — two of the best voice actors in the biz. You can listen ten times and still catch new details.

Word has it that Jack Webb — "Sgt. Friday" himself — was a fan and got a kick out of Freberg’s Dragnet spoofs. Here’s the Billboard ad that says so:

And since Jack also gives a nod to Ray Anthony’s Capitol recording of the Dragnet theme — also from 1953 — we’re absolutely spinning that next:

And because we don’t do loose ends around here, we’re flipping Ray's disc too. The B‑side is his take on the standard Dancing in the Dark:

Turns out that side was part of Downbeat Magazine’s National Dance Week Promotion, which is exactly the kind of mid‑century ephemera I live for.

If Downbeat says dance, I’m dancing!

Lots going on at the Capitol Tower in 1953 — and that's the facts.

Threaded Thursday: An Angel in Lace

From yesterday’s The Bunny Hop, we keep tugging the Ray Anthony thread with another early‑1950s confection — Marilyn, Ray’s tribute to Marilyn Monroe.

Let’s spin Ray’s 1952 Capitol record featuring Tommy Mercer and The Skyliners:

A cute little number, and a perfect time capsule from an era when blonde‑bombshell movie stars and handsome, trumpet‑playing bandleaders were the very definition of show‑biz glamour!

I don’t think Ray and Marilyn were ever romantically involved, but if any bandleader had a shot, it would’ve been Ray. My mother used to say he was the only handsome bandleader — and she said it with conviction!

And considering Ray later married Mamie Van Doren, we can safely say MM was very much his type!

To keep the 1950s Marilyn mania going — while also picking up the mambo thread from yesterday — here’s a 1954 blast from Perez Prado on RCA Victor:

Marilyn and Mambo? That's so 1954!

Hope you enjoyed the mini‑Marilyn marathon!