Threaded Thursday: Getting Lost

We pick up the word‑association thread and wander from Duke Ellington’s Lost in Meditation to the 1942/43 Frank Loesser–Jimmy McHugh charmer Let’s Get Lost.

The tune debuted on screen in Happy Go Lucky (Paramount, 1943), introduced by Mary Martin. Mary didn’t cut a commercial record, but a few bands managed to sneak versions onto wax just in time before the recording ban hit in 1942 for release in 1943:

Vaughn Leads the Way

Vaughn Monroe was first out of the gate, and his Victor release became the big 1943 hit:

A relaxed, conversational reading from Vaughn and the Four Lee Sisters — easygoing and elegant.

Kyser Keeps It Cozy

Kay Kyser followed with a popular version on Columbia, with Harry Babbitt joined by Julie Conway, Trudy Erwin, Jack Martin, and Max Williams:

The Kyser band was making some truly lovely sides in the early ’40s, leaving the ’30s novelty gimmicks behind.

Teddy & Peggy's Underrated Gem

The underrated Teddy Powell band turned in a Bluebird version featuring a lovely vocal by the equally underrated canary Peggy Mann:

This was the first version I ever heard — and it still might be my favorite!

Hallett Hits It

Another canary, Kay Marie Baird, is featured with Mal Hallett's orchestra on the Hit label:

The records from the Hit label can be hit or miss, but the ones featuring an actual name bandleader, such as Mr. Hallett,  tend to be pretty good. I think Kay Marie is also good, but all I really now about her is that she was the sister of the more prominent Eugenie Baird.

Jimmy & Bob Step Up

Jimmy Dorsey’s Decca take features Bob Eberly in prime form:

When you hear Bob on a side like this, it’s easy to understand why young Frank Sinatra kept an eye on the competition.

Frankie on the Airwaves

By the time “Let’s Get Lost” hit big in 1943, Frank had left Tommy Dorsey and didn’t get a commercial recording — but he did sing it on Your Hit Parade:

The song fits early‑’40s Sinatra like a glove.

No wonder Olive Oyl swooned when Frankie sang it in the 1945 Paramount Cartoon Shape Ahoy!

Dinah Drops By

Staying in radio land, here’s Dinah Shore from the Eddie Cantor show:

Pure Dinah — warm, clear, and effortless. You can understand why she was on her way to major stardom.

Shep & Meredith's Encore

We had recently heard an aircheck of Meredith Blake singing Let's Get Lost with Shep Fields' all-reed band. Let's hear it again:

Still sounds great!

Adelaide Across the Atlantic

We do have one more 1943 studio version: Adelaide Hall on British Decca:

Another lovely, poised reading.

Chet Chimes In

After 1943, the tune went quiet for a while — one of those songs that had its moment and then drifted into the fog. But in 1955, Chet Baker brought it back on Prestige:

To be honest, I’ve never been fully sold on Chet’s vocal style, but he undeniably helped turn the tune into a modern standard. I'd say he's the artist most associated with the song.

Johnny's Jaunty Detour

And because I always like to slip in a snappy instrumental, here’s pianist Johnny Coates, Jr. from his 1960 Savoy album Portrait:

Snappy indeed — a bright little spotlight on the tune’s bones.

With guides like these, Let’s Get Lost never really got lost at all.

Word Association Wednesday: Another Place

We spin off Duke Ellington’s If You Were in My Place and land squarely in the orbit of the 1941/42 hit Somebody Else Is Taking My Place.

Morgan’s Melancholy Manner

The song was co‑written by bandleader Russ Morgan, and he was the first to record it. Let’s drop the needle on his late‑1941 Decca side:

That’s classic “Music in the Morgan Manner” — the melancholy, sighing trombone, Russ easing into the vocal and The Morganaires wrapping it all in that soft‑focus harmony.

Peggy Perks It Up

But the definitive version arrived almost immediately afterward, when Benny Goodman cut it for Okeh with his brand‑new vocalist Peggy Lee:

The lyrics don’t brighten up any under Peggy’s delivery, but the record sure does. It’s crisp, swinging, and no mystery why it became the hit.

Label intrigue: Benny wasn’t being “demoted” to Columbia’s cheaper Okeh subsidiary. Glenn Miller was selling literal millions on Victor’s budget Bluebird line, so Columbia simply tried the same trick with BG.

Thornhill’s Tongue‑in‑Cheek Take

As 1942 dawned, more bands jumped aboard. Perhaps the wackiest cover of the moment was Claude Thornhill’s Columbia version:

It plays like a gentle send‑up — Claude’s honky‑tonk piano, the wink‑and‑a‑grin vocal by “A Pair of Pairs,” a playful rebranding of The Snowflakes.

Bunny Still Burns Bright

Next comes Bunny Berigan with vocalist Kay Little on the Elite label:

A late Berigan side, recorded just months before his untimely passing. Bunny’s trumpet still gleams, but Kay leans a little hard into the Helen O’Connell style that was popular at the time.

Monroe’s Moments

Vaughn Monroe was still the new kid on the block in 1942 when he recorded his Bluebird version:

Just to keep things interesting, let’s jump ahead to 1958 for Vaughn's RCA Victor remake:

Nothing about this should work — and yet I absolutely dig it!

A Modern Mose‑ment

And while we’re in 1958, let’s close with a snappy instrumental take by pianist Mose Allison from his Prestige album Young Man Mose:

Sounds good!

Turns out Russ Morgan was right all along: everybody was taking his place!

Warehouse Whispers

Apparently Somebody Else Is Taking My Place was composed in 1937 but not recorded until 1941, despite Russ Morgan having a recording contract all along. Hmm...

Monday Side-Session: A Date with Johnny

Since we heard a couple of sides yesterday featuring Johnny Hodges leading a small group of Ellingtonians, I thought it’d be fun to make today’s Monday Side‑Session a literal session — the four titles recorded at a Johnny Hodges date.

This particular outing took place on May 14, 1937, in New York City. In addition to Johnny on alto, the lineup is a dreamlike slice of the Ellington reed world: Barney Bigard (clarinet and tenor), Otto Hardwick (alto), and Harry Carney (baritone). Cootie Williams and his trumpet are all alone in the brass section and the rhythm section is pure Ellington: Duke at the piano, Fred Guy on guitar, Hayes Alvis on bass, and Sonny Greer on drums.

There’s also a surprise guest — a young Buddy Clark, not yet a star and not even credited on the label. No idea how he wandered into this date, but he fits like he was born in the bandroom.

The group recorded four songs (with multiple takes), and Buddy sings on the first three.

Let’s start spinning...

Foolin’ Myself

A lovely, slow, unhurried groove — the kind of tempo where Hodges can stretch out and the reeds breathe in unison.

A Sailboat in the Moonlight

This really shouldn’t work — a Guy Lombardo hit reframed by Ellingtonians — but it’s awesome! No surprise it became the most popular side from the session.

You’ll Never Go to Heaven (If You Break My Heart)

A neat structural twist here: Buddy starts right away, vocalizing over the introduction, and then disappears entirely after the vocal chorus. Most 1937 band records don’t front‑load the vocal like that, so this one stands out.

Peckin’

Buddy sits out, but we get a vocal from Cootie Williams and the band. The feel is a little odd — almost like the floor tilts under the beat — and the track wasn’t issued until the late 1960s. Strange, but intriguing.

We had heard Ozzie Nelson's version of Peckin' back here and I stand by my statement that the Ben Pollack/Harry James tune works better as an instrumental!

Release Shuffle

Foolin’ Myself and You’ll Never Go to Heaven were paired on a 78, which left A Sailboat in the Moonlight without a partner since Peckin’ stayed in the vault.

So what wound up on the flipside of Sailboat?

Manhattan Jam by Edgar Hayes

A solid, swinging companion.

Bonus Spin: Lombardo’s Original Hit

To round things out, here’s Guy Lombardo’s Victor recording of “A Sailboat in the Moonlight,” with brother Carmen Lombardo — the song’s co‑writer — on the vocal.

Always fun to hear how differently a tune can live depending on who’s steering the boat!

Warehouse Whispers

Irving Mills kept his release options wide open, so these sides appeared on both Variety and Vocalion. And it’s interesting that Johnny’s discs were issued as Johnny Hodges and His Orchestra, in contrast to the more colorful branding of his colleagues: Cootie Williams and His Rug Cutters, Barney Bigard and His Jazzopaters, Rex Stewart and His 52nd Street Stompers. Mills loved a good sub‑label ecosystem — and a wacky band name even more!

Sundays with Duke #24 – Two Lost and Found

As we continue with Duke Ellington in 1938, we land on a pair of songs written and recorded around the same time as I Let a Song Go Out of My Heart, yet neither one found the same level of popularity. Both had promising starts, both slipped into obscurity, and both were unexpectedly revived in the 1950s — little musical time capsules waiting to be reopened.

A Cotton Club Companion

The first tune, If You Were in My Place (What Would You Do), was featured in the same Cotton Club Parade as I Let a Song Go Out of My Heart. Duke recorded it for Brunswick with Ivie Anderson on the vocal:

Johnny Hodges also cut the tune at the same small‑group session that produced his version of I Let a Song Go Out of My Heart, again featuring Mary McHugh:

I’d probably give the nod to Johnny’s small‑group take - the slower, steadier tempo feels more natural for the song’s mood.

The tune didn’t really go anywhere, and Duke never returned to it in the studio… except for one curious exception. For reasons lost to time, it resurfaced on the 1956 Blue Rose album on Columbia, with Rosemary Clooney overdubbing her vocal onto a backing track recorded by Duke and the band:

Not a bad song by any means, but this seems to be the end of the trail for it in Duke’s discography.

A Song With Two Names and a Few Lives

The second tune, Lost in Meditation, has a more tangled path.

This collaboration between Juan Tizol and Duke began life as an instrumental titled Have a Heart, recorded by Cootie Williams and his Rug Cutters for Vocalion in January 1938:

The lineup is a dream: Cootie on trumpet, Tricky Sam Nanton on trombone, and a sax section of Johnny Hodges, Barney Bigard, and Harry Carney, with usual suspects Duke, Fred Guy, Billy Taylor and Sonny Greer in the rhythm section.

Pretty cool record!

The following month, Duke and the full band recorded the same tune for Brunswick - slower, more reflective, and now titled Lost in Meditation.

I’m presuming the title change happened when the song acquired lyrics, although the earlier Have a Heart label already lists Louis Singer and Irving Mills as co‑writers. A little mystery there!

Although Duke’s studio version was instrumental, he did feature a vocal arrangement with Ivie Anderson on radio broadcasts, and we’re lucky to have an aircheck:

A proper studio vocal finally arrived in June 1938 at another Johnny Hodges small‑group session, again with Mary McHugh:

The personnel mirrors Cootie’s Rug Cutters lineup, but with Lawrence Brown subbing for Tricky Sam on trombone.

Just as with If You Were in My Place, Duke didn’t revisit Lost in Meditation again until the mid‑1950s, when it was picked up by a guest female vocalist.

This time it was Ella Fitzgerald, who recorded it with Duke and the band in 1957 for her Duke Ellington Songbook album on Verve:

It’s a terrific version, but the song seems to have disappeared from Duke’s repertoire after that.

Why These Two? Why Then?

I do wonder what led to Rosie and Ella reviving these two 1938 songs after they’d been “lost” for more than a decade.

We’ll probably never know - label logic, producer whims, personal taste, or just the right tune at the right moment.

But I’m glad they were found!

What's your take? Should either have become at least a semi-standard?

Threaded Thursday: Ah, So Pure

Opera to Orchestra: Flotow Finds Swing

Following yesterday’s updates to the classical My Heart at Thy Sweet Voice, we keep the thread going with variations on another 19th‑century operatic theme — Martha by Friedrich von Flotow.

Larry's Lovely Lady

And once again, we start with the preeminent classics‑into‑pop arranger of the big band era, Larry Clinton, and his super‑canary Bea Wain.

Let’s spin their 1938 take on Martha for Victor:

That’s another home run for Bea and Larry!

Connee Captivates

I’ve known that Clinton record for so long — and it’s appeared on so many compilations — that I consider it the definitive swing version of the song. So I was surprised sometime later to learn there was an earlier swing adaptation: Connie (Connee) Boswell’s late‑1937 Decca recording backed by Bob Crosby’s Bob Cats.

Let’s spin it:

That’s a great version! I’ve probably run out of adjectives for Connee Boswell, so let’s listen to the glowing introduction to her performance of Martha from the Philco Hall of Fame broadcast of May 7, 1944:

Connee on Camera: Martha in Motion

We’re still not done with Connee — we have two videos of her singing Martha.

First is this 1950 Universal short in which she sings “I Don’t Know Why” and “Martha,” backed by Les Brown and his Band of Renown:

Fun to hear Connee talk a little about the song.

Next is a video transcription from 1952:

How great is it that we have this footage to enjoy?

One thing I wonder: was Connee drawn to the song because one of her Boswell Sisters siblings was named Martha? And what did Vet Boswell think?

I also notice that neither Connee nor Bea sing gender‑flipped lyrics — they seem to be singing to Martha, not about Martha.

Wingy’s Wild Woman

For a contemporary male take, we turn to trumpeter/singer Wingy Manone, who cut his version for Bluebird later in 1938:

Wingy has officially taken Martha off the opera stage and into a juke joint!

Label intrigue: Wingy’s last name is misspelled on the label, which also credits the adaptation to Larry Clinton — though it’s actually closer to Connee’s version!

Rollini’s Radiant Reverie

Now to 1940 for a cool instrumental version by multi‑instrumentalist Adrian Rollini on vibes with his trio for Okeh:

Cooler still: there’s a video from 1948 of Adrian and his Trio playing Martha:

Adrian is best remembered for his ginormous bass sax, but he could play anything.

Crew Cuts’ Catchy Chorus

To show once again how adaptable a great melody can be, we land in 1955 with the fun Mostly Martha by The Crew Cuts on Mercury:

I still remember when I first played this on an old 45 and instantly knew it wasn’t mostly Martha — it was all Martha!

Martha’s Many Masks

Our girl Martha certainly got around, from the opera house to the soda shop, but she remained herself — a pure heart, a catchy tune and apparently no objections to being reimagined every decade!

Word Association Wednesday: Sweet Voices

For today’s Word Association Wednesday spinning off from I Let a Song Go Out of My Heart, the last two words nudged me toward “My Heart…” — which, in my universe, leads straight to My Heart at Thy Sweet Voice, the famous aria from Camille Saint‑Saëns’s Samson and Delilah.

Clinton’s Classical Conjuring

And more specifically, it leads to Larry Clinton’s adaptation, recorded for Victor in 1938 with the ever‑radiant Bea Wain:

Larry had a real knack for turning classical themes into swing‑era charmers, and hearing my favorite canary float over that arrangement never gets old.

Savitt’s Showcase

From there, the melody takes a stylish detour to Jan Savitt, who recorded an instrumental version for Decca in 1940:

A beautifully tailored arrangement by Billy Moore, and what a terrific trombone solo from Al Leopold — warm, confident, and right in the pocket.

D’Artega’s Delicate Detour

Jumping ahead to 1947, we find a more classically oriented take by D’Artega and his Orchestra on the Sonora label:

The label helpfully notes that one‑time bandleader Will Bradley handles the wonderful trombone solo, with Charlie Margulis stepping forward on trumpet. A nice bit of personnel transparency you don’t always get on mid‑’40s releases on small labels.

Bostic’s Bold Breakout

To show just how versatile a great tune can be, here’s Earl Bostic’s 1954 recording for King:

Always a pleasure to hear Earl's alto — that unmistakable, laser‑bright tone cutting right through the arrangement.

Jackie’s Journey

When I first heard the Larry Clinton record back in the day, the melody felt familiar, but I couldn’t quite place it. Then it hit me: Night, the Jackie Wilson song! Sure enough, Night is based on the same Saint‑Saëns aria.

So let’s spin Jackie’s 1960 Brunswick record:

A deservedly huge hit. Jackie gets to show off his own sweet voice — soaring, operatic, and absolutely electrifying.

Conniff’s Choral Counterpoint Coda

We’ll close out with another track from 1960. This one is titled An Improvisation on My Heart at Thy Sweet Voice and it appears on Ray Conniff’s Columbia album Concert in Rhythm, Volume II:

I’ve always preferred the Conniff tracks where the male and female choruses provide wordless counterpoint rather than singing actual lyrics — those floating syllables give the arrangement a kind of shimmering, weightless lift.

And I do wonder how many people in 1960 dropped the needle on this LP and thought, “Hey, Ray Conniff is covering Jackie Wilson… but why is he using a different title?” A perfectly reasonable conclusion if your reference point was the Brunswick hit rather than Saint‑Saëns.

Aria’s Amazing Afterlife

A fascinating journey for a 19th‑century aria, winding its way through swing bands, classical pops, R&B sax showcases, easy listening improvisations and ultimately into the hands of one of the great voices of the 20th century.

Which treatment is your favorite?

Monday Side-Session: More from the Heart

We follow up on Duke Ellington’s 1938 classic I Let a Song Go Out of My Heart with a parade of covers and remakes — and boy, did they come fast and furious. Duke’s original was an instrumental, but the lyrics by Henry Nemo, John Redmond and Irving Mills (?) caught fire almost instantly. Of all the Ellington tunes that sprouted lyrics after the fact, this is the one where I can’t not hear the words when the band plays the melody. If you know what I mean!

Let's start spinning...

Hot Lips Page (Bluebird)

Most of the 1938 responses were vocal versions, but let’s start with an instrumental detour. Here’s trumpeter Hot Lips Page with a Bluebird side that jumps right out of the speakers:

He had hot lips all right!

Now the canaries take over with four stellar vocal renditions from that same whirlwind year.

Mildred Bailey (Brunswick)

Mildred is backed by the band of her then‑husband Red Norvo. It’s always fun to compare the sides issued under Mildred’s name with the ones issued under Red’s name with Mildred as the vocalist. The “solo” sides let her stretch out in ways the Norvo discs sometimes don’t.

Connie Boswell (Decca)

Such a wonderful stylist — that rhythmic ease, that conversational glide. Connie never forces this tune; she just lets it bloom.

June Richmond with Jimmy Dorsey (Decca)

June Richmond was likely the first Black singer to be featured regularly with a major white band. She was no novelty — she could sing — but the public wasn’t ready, and her stay with Jimmy was far too short.

This record also gives Jimmy plenty of alto space, which makes for a fascinating comparison with Johnny Hodges. Johnny admired JD’s tone and technique, and you can hear why.

Martha Tilton with Benny Goodman (Victor)

The biggest vocal hit of the tune in 1938. Prime BG, with a sparkling Edgar Sampson arrangement and the Liltin' Miss Tilton in peak form.

I love how each of these women puts her own stamp on the song.

To hear a male vocalist tackle it in 1938, we have to cross the Atlantic...

Mantovani with Ken Crossley (Columbia UK)

Annunzio Mantovani was so associated with lush postwar mood music that it’s easy to forget how jaunty his 1930s records can sound!

Now let’s time‑hop to 1954 for a pair of male vocalists who each brought their own distinctive style to the tune.

Al Hibbler (Norgran)

Former Ellington vocalist Hibbler sounds terrific here, and the arrangement is pure Ellingtonia.

Billy Eckstine (MGM)

You know I’m all over any record of Billy singing an Ellington tune!

We go from Mr. B to Miss D to show that the ladies were still at it in the ’50s...

Dinah Washington (EmArcy/Mercury, 1954)

An extended version from After Hours with Miss D gives Dinah and the band a chance to really pour out their hearts.

Ella Fitzgerald (Verve, 1957)

From her magnificent Duke Ellington Songbook. Ella makes the melody feel inevitable, with great support from Ben Webster on tenor and Barney Kessel on guitar.

Let's wrap up with one more instrumental version...

Eddie "Lockjaw" Davis with Shirley Scott (Prestige)

Tenor man "Lockjaw" and organist Shirley romp through the tune in awesome 1959 stereo from the album Jaws.

So: lots of songs from lots of hearts. Which one makes your heart sing?