Threaded Thursday: A Different Kind of Minnie

We spent yesterday with Minnie the Moocher, following her from the Cotton Club to the cartoon world and finally to her big wedding day. 

That got me thinking: Minnie… cartoon… wedding… 1930s… Wasn’t there a song from the early 1930s about a certain other cartoon star marrying a different Minnie? Indeed there was! 

Let’s talk about the 1933 British hit, The Wedding of Mr. Mickey Mouse.

The British Connection

Despite Mickey and Minnie’s massive popularity in the States, this tune was strictly a British affair. It was recorded by quite a few artists in England, but I don’t think there was ever a proper American version.

Let’s listen to this representative version by Henry Hall and the BBC Orchestra on the British Columbia label:

Pretty fun, right? A couple of things of interest here: The song mentions the BBC, which certainly marks its territory, so it’s only fitting that the BBC Orchestra recorded it!

The Horace Horsecollar Snub

The lyrics name-drop Pegleg Pete, Pluto, and Clarabelle Cow, but they curiously omit Horace Horsecollar—even though he’s right there on the cover of the sheet music! (See the image at the top of the page). Personally, Horace gets my vote for the most underrated Disney character of all time.

The Mystery Instrumental

On just about every British record, the song is presented as a comedic skit rather than a straight musical number. However, I found this fascinating version on the French Pathé label:

It’s entirely instrumental! I don’t know exactly who the Novelty Dance Orchestra was or where they were based, but it’s a high-energy take that lets the melody shine without the slapstick.

So there you have it: Two Minnies and two weddings!

Word Association Wednesday: From the "Mooche" to the "Moocher"

Last Sunday, we were doing the "lazy gait" to Duke’s The Mooche. Naturally, that word leads me to only one place: the "low-down hoochy-coocher" herself, Minnie the Moocher!

The 1931 Kickoff

If Duke was the sophisticated soul of the Cotton Club, Cab Calloway was its high-voltage engine. In 1931, he and his great orchestra recorded this for Brunswick, and the "Hi-De-Ho" call-and-response became an instant cultural phenomenon.

You can still feel the heat of this track 95 years later!

Minnie Goes to Hollywood (via Animation)

As a connoisseur of vintage animation, I have to highlight the 1932 Fleischer Studios masterpiece. This cartoon is legendary because the animators used rotoscoping to trace Cab’s actual dance moves, turning him into a ghostly, swaying walrus. It is surreal, slightly spooky, and brilliant.

Here’s a link:

That's just wild! I appreciate the live-action footage at the beginning of these cartoons, as it's a rare chance to see the performers in action!

The Wedding of the Century

Minnie’s story didn't end with her "kickin' the gong around." Cab gave her a proper sequel in 1932 with Minnie the Moocher's Wedding Day. It’s a high-energy celebration that proves even a "moocher" can have her day in the sun—and the band is absolutely smoking on this track!

That was easily the event of the 1932 social season!

 

But Cab wasn't the only one celebrating; his Brunswick label-mates The Boswell Sisters cut their own incredible version of the tune.

The Boswell Sisters and the Dorsey Brothers—how can you beat that combo? I love how their tight harmonies give the song a completely different kind of swing.

Between the "Mooche" (the gait) and the "Moocher" (the girl), which one makes you want to get up and move more?

Monday Side-Session: The Okeh Speed Trap

Yesterday, we were crawling through the shadows with Duke's The Mooche. But if you flipped that original Okeh 8623 record over in 1928, you were in for a serious case of musical whiplash.

From the Crawl to the Sprint

While The Mooche was all about that "lazy gait," the B-side, Hot and Bothered, was Duke and the boys operating at a breakneck speed. I love this track because it features Baby Cox again, but instead of her haunting moans, she’s delivering a high-speed "scat" vocal that holds its own against the brass.

Let's give it a spin:

And dig the 12-string guitar solo by the great Lonnie Johnson! I’m not sure exactly how the pairing came about, but Lonnie sat in for two recording sessions with Duke in 1928, and the results were pure magic.

The Name Game Returns

We have a little more pseudonym shenanigans with a second recording of Hot and Bothered that made the rounds of the budget labels under various band names, including the old stand-by, The Washingtonians (see top of page).

But The Whoopee Makers return on the maroonish-colored shellac of Perfect Records:

There’s no Baby Cox or Lonnie Johnson on this one, but the band is still hot under any name and I'm not bothered!

Bubber’s Final Burn

These sessions were among the last great showcases for Bubber Miley before he left the band. On Hot and Bothered, his trumpet isn't just growling—it’s screaming. It’s the perfect companion to The Mooche because it shows the two sides of the "Jungle" coin: the dark mystery and the frantic heat.

Which fits your Monday mood better: the slow-burning Mooche or the frantic Hot and Bothered?

Sundays with Duke #5: Mutes, Mysteries, and The Mooche

We are still in 1928, exploring the foundations of the Warehouse with another early classic Ellington composition: The Mooche. This track is the peak of the "Jungle Style"—dark, deliberate, and full of shadows. If you’ve ever wondered about the title, it's not about someone "borrowing" money - it's old Harlem slang for a specific, slow, aimless swagger. I love how the music perfectly mimics that "lazy gait," making it feel like a rhythmic crawl through a midnight club.

Let’s start with what I believe is the first recording of the song, cut for Okeh Records:

That is Baby Cox providing the haunting vocalizing. By this time, the legendary Johnny Hodges had joined the band, beginning his decades-long stay, but trumpeter Bubber Miley - the architect of that growl - wouldn't be around much longer.

The "Duke Brooks" Mystery

"The Mooche" is a song Duke recorded many times, but interestingly, it didn’t lend itself to many cover versions by other bands. However, a fascinating remake appeared in 1945 as part of Capitol Records' "History of Jazz" series.

You can't tell the history of jazz without Duke, but there was a catch: he wasn't a Capitol artist and was under strict contract to Victor at the time. To get around this, Capitol rounded up longtime Ellington drummer Sonny Greer and had him front a group of "The Duke’s Men."

But who was the piano player? The label credits a mysterious "Duke Brooks."

Let's  spin that side:

Once you hear those keys, the mystery vanishes! It sounds great, and when you read the names of the musicians on the session, the high quality is no surprise—contract or no contract, that's the Ellington spirit through and through. Shades of The Whoopee Makers!

The Mooche Goes Latin

Jumping ahead to 1953, we come across a truly fun and unexpected take on RCA Victor by Latin bandleader "Chamaco" Dominguez:

I find this one pretty cool! It proves that the "crawling" rhythm of the original could be translated into a completely different groove while keeping that essential Ellington "mood" intact.

Which version of the "crawling" classic do you prefer: the 1928 original with Baby Cox, the 1945 version with "Duke Brooks" or the Latin-flavored 1953 remake?

Friday Fun: More Columbo and a bit of "Stump"

As the week comes to a close, and since I like to keep a good thing going, I feel that we need to sneak in one more Russ Columbo song!

Let’s listen to perhaps Russ’s most popular number, Prisoner of Love from 1931 on Victor Records:

Like You Call it Madness, this song paints Russ as a tragic character - and a crazy level of romantic. Interestingly, Russ is credited as a co-writer on both songs. It’s hard to say what his exact contributions were, but I like to think he was the one who brought the angst!

The Mid-40s Revival

There was actually a mini-revival of Russ Columbo songs in the mid-1940s. As we saw yesterday, You Call It Madness had a few popular recordings, but the biggest hit of a Columbo tune came in 1946 when Perry Como waxed his version of Prisoner of Love for Victor.

Let's give it a spin:

This was a massive early hit for Perry, and it helped cement "Mr. C" as a major force for decades to come. 

Not to be outdone, Billy Eckstine wrapped his great pipes around the song for National Records in 1945.

Whom do you prefer: Mr. B or Mr. C?

I’m thinking the timeline suggests that someone realized these two Columbo songs were perfect for the "Modern Baritone" sound of Billy Eckstine. Mr. B’s 1945 recordings likely caught the ear of the biz, leading us right to Perry and Nat "King" Cole in '46. Whatever the case, we are all the beneficiaries!

The Wacky "Stump" Finale

Because I can’t resist such things, we need to listen to a wacky novelty version of Prisoner of Love that was “inspired” (or perhaps "inflicted") by Perry Como’s record!

Here is the incomparable Jo Stafford in her guise of “Cinderella G. Stump,” along with Red Ingle and his Natural Seven in 1947 on Capitol Records:

This was the follow-up to their massive hit Tim-Tayshun (itself a parody of a Perry Como remake of an early 1930s Bing Crosby tune). It’s as wild as you’d expect - and note that Jo actually gets credit on the label this time! "Cinderella's Back And Ingle's Got Her" - love, love, love it!

Red actually name-drops "Mr. Como" on the record, but it’s really more of a parody of the song’s high-drama lyrics than of Perry himself. Perry was likely a great sport about it - not only was he co-hosting the "Chesterfield Supper Club" radio show with Jo Stafford at the time, but he and Red Ingle were old buddies from their days together in the Ted Weems band!

From the tragic Russ Columbo to the hilarious Cinderella G. Stump... that’s just how we roll in the Warehouse.

Threaded Thursday: The Fine Line Between Love and Madness

As a follow-up to Creole Love Call and Indian Love Call, I was figuring that there must be at least a few other songs with “(Insert Descriptive Adjective) Love Call” for a title. But I figured wrong!

(Puts on thinking cap) Love call… love… call… call… love… (Lightbulb!)… You Call it Madness (But I Call It Love).

The Original "Vignette": Russ Columbo (1931)

Before there was a "Battle of the Baritones" in the late 40s, there was the rivalry between Bing Crosby and Russ Columbo. You Call It Madness was Russ’s signature song, and it’s got that definitive early-30s "penthouse" sound. It’s vulnerable, slightly tragic, and incredibly smooth.

The record is haunting anyway, but Russ’s untimely death due to a freak shooting accident just a few years later gives it an even more tragic tone when we listen to it today.

The Jazzman’s Answer: The King Cole Trio (1946)

As the 40s rolled in, the song got a jazzy facelift courtesy of Nat King Cole. Here, the madness is a bit more polished. With his impeccable piano styling and that intimate, "near-the-mic" vocal, Nat turns the song into a sophisticated conversation. It’s less of a plea and more of a confession.

I really like the sound of the King Cole Trio—there’s a precision there that never gets old.

The "Mr. B" Powerhouse: Billy Eckstine (1945)

Finally, we have Billy Eckstine. If Columbo was the matinee idol and Nat was the jazzman, "Mr. B" was the powerhouse. His rich, vibrating baritone brings a level of romantic authority to the song that few could match. By the time Eckstine gets through with it, you aren't just calling it love—you’re convinced.

Here's Billy with his orchestra on the small National Records label:

Billy (with his forward-leaning band) and Nat (with his trio) were both very jazz-oriented at the time, but these records show that their vocals were simply too good for them not to emerge as solo stars!

The Closing Thought

Whether it’s a wordless vocal from Adelaide Hall, a swinging tenor-sax vocal from Tony Pastor, or the smooth baritone of Russ Columbo, the line between a "Love Call" and "Madness" has always been thin.

In the Warehouse, we’re happy to be guilty of both!

Word Association Wednesday: A Different Kind of "Love Call"

On Sunday, we explored the haunting, wordless mystery of Duke’s "Creole Love Call." Today, it’s a short ride on the train of thought to follow that "Love Call" title over to the king of the clarinet—Artie Shaw.

If Duke’s version was about the "Jungle" atmosphere of 1927, Artie’s Indian Love Call (1938) was about the pure, driving swing of the late 30s.

Let's give it a spin:

What a blast!

You'll note that Artie was billed as "Art" Shaw at the time!

From Operetta to the Jukebox

Originally written by Rudolf Friml for the 1924 operetta Rose-Marie, this song was meant to be sung by Mounties in the Canadian Rockies. It was stiff, formal, and definitely not "hot."

But in the hands of Jerry Gray (Artie’s brilliant arranger), it became a juggernaut. I love how they took that famous "oo-oo-oo-oo" melody and gave it a muscular, rhythmic foundation that made it a massive hit for the Bluebird label.

The Tony Pastor Charm

The "secret sauce" on this record is the vocal by Tony Pastor. He doesn't try to sing it like an opera star; he sings it in a gritty, conversational style—kind of like an Italian Louis Armstrong!

I always like the guys who are part of the band as instrumentalists but occasionally step up to the mic to sing a novelty or rhythm tune. They seem like the coolest guys in the room! Like Tex Beneke with Glenn Miller, Tony was also the tenor sax star of the Shaw band. Drummer/vocalist Ray McKinley (with Jimmy Dorsey and Will Bradley) was in this mode, too. Interestingly, Tony, Tex, and Ray all went on to be successful bandleaders themselves!

The “Secret” Version

Did you know there was actually an earlier version of Indian Love Call recorded by Artie? It was cut in February 1938—a few months before the famous July session for Bluebird—for the Thesaurus Transcription Service. But there’s a twist…

Listen and learn:

It’s an instrumental! Crazy, right? The arrangement is very similar to the famous record (although it sounds like the band chants "Yip! Yip!" rather than "Cheep! Cheep!"), but just when you think Tony Pastor is about to sing, he plays a tenor sax solo instead!

The Flipside: A Jukebox Giant

We can’t leave that Bluebird record behind without spinning the B-Side: a little number called Begin the Beguine.

It’s hard to overstate the impact of this record. It was a massive hit that made Artie a superstar and helped solidify the entire Swing movement. For me personally, “Begin the Beguine” was one of the “gateway” records that made me a Big Band fan. It popped up on so many compilations and just seemed like the perfect Big Band record.

And you know what? I still think so! 

Kudos to ace arranger Jerry Gray for his brilliant work on both sides of that disc.

Which "Love Call" gets your vote? The atmospheric "Creole" mystery of Duke Ellington, or the hard-swinging "Indian" energy of Artie Shaw?