Side‑Session Monday: More Sentimental Moods

Following up on Duke Ellington’s standard In a Sentimental Mood, today’s side‑session rounds up some (then) contemporary covers along with a handful of later remakes.

Goodman Gets Moody

Duke’s version was released in 1935, and by 1936 a whole wave of bands jumped on the tune — mostly as an instrumental. First up, Benny Goodman on Victor:

A typically great Goodman record of a Jimmy Mundy arrangement. Murray McEachern sounds wonderful on trombone.

Jimmy Joins In

Jimmy Dorsey’s version for Decca features an even more prominent trombone — Bobby Byrne even gets (slightly misspelled) label credit:

Bobby replaced Tommy Dorsey after Tommy left the Dorsey Brothers Orchestra. Byrne was a fine trombonist and later a bandleader himself, but he couldn’t really compete with Tommy in either category — though honestly, who could?

Pollack’s Parade of Stars

Ben Pollack also recorded the tune for Irving Mills’ Variety label, featuring the great clarinetist Irving Fazola:

Pollack was never quite a top‑tier bandleader, but the roster of future stars who passed through his band is astounding. Around this time, Glenn Miller, Harry James, Charlie Spivak and Freddie Slack were all on the payroll!

McDonough’s Pickup Perfection

Ace studio guitarist Dick McDonough led some pickup groups for the ARC line of budget labels, which still managed to feature top musicians — including trumpeter Bunny Berigan:

This session also includes Toots Mondello on clarinet, Adrian Rollini doing double‑duty on vibes and bass sax, and that steady beat courtesy of the great Cozy Cole on drums.

Mills Adds the Missing Lyrics

Yesterday I mentioned that In a Sentimental Mood had lyrics by Manny Kurtz (AKA Mann Curtis) and Irving Mills, though Duke never recorded a vocal version. Mills did, however, have The Mills Blue Rhythm Band cut it with vocalist Chuck Richardson:

Lucky Millinder leads the band, and the lineup includes such stars as Henry “Red” Allen on trumpet, J.C. Higginbotham on trombone, Tab Smith on sax, and Edgar Hayes on piano.

Collectively, these 1936 recordings feature a ton of talent!

We encounter another high level of talent as we move into 1937 for an instrumental version by the Quintette of the Hot Club of France featuring guitarist Django Reinhardt and violinist Stéphane Grappelli on the HMV label:

Pretty cool to hear Stéphane take on the tune 25 years or so before his 1963 recording session with Duke

Mr. B’s Velvet Version

The tune became a standard and has been remade many times, but we have to jump ahead to 1948 for another notable vocal version. It’s worth the wait — Billy Eckstine wraps his velvet baritone around the tune for the National label:

There’s something about Mr. B singing an Ellington melody that’s pure magic.

Tommy's Sentimental Trombone

Since we’re already time‑traveling, let’s stop in the 1950s for a couple more instrumental versions of note. The Sentimental Gentleman of Swing, Tommy Dorsey, finally recorded his own version for Decca in 1953:

This was the title track of TD’s album In a Sentimental Mood, and the tune fits his trombone style like a glove.

Hackett's Mellow Mood

Another great musician, cornetist Bobby Hackett, included the song as a track on his 1955 Capitol album In a Mellow Mood:

An absolutely gorgeous nightcap for our little sentimental stroll!

Do you have a favorite version? Let me know in the comments.

Sundays with Duke #20: A Sentimental Solution

As we step into 1935 with Duke Ellington, the classics keep on coming. Today it’s In a Sentimental Mood - a tune so elegant it feels like it’s always existed.

The story goes that Duke composed it at a party to ease the tension between two women. Who knows if that apocryphal tale is true, but it’s a great story and an even better song.

The First Sentimental Spark

The first recording was for Brunswick:

The soloists include alto saxist Otto Hardwick, who may have contributed part of the melody. It certainly sounds like something he could have floated into the air for Duke to sculpt.

Otto Hardwick looking dapper!

As with many Ellington pieces that caught on, In a Sentimental Mood soon acquired lyrics (and Irving Mills as a co-writer). The lyricist was Manny Kurtz - later Mann Curtis - but Duke never recorded a vocal version himself. He did, however, return to the tune often in concert and on record.

Revisiting an Old Flame

One such revisit came in 1945, during those Victor sessions where Duke re‑examined several of his most popular numbers:

I love the jaunty little piano figure he tosses in there—just enough to remind you that even his most “sentimental” moods have a sly grin.

Sentiment, Stripped to the Essentials

Duke’s piano gets even jauntier on this next version, the leadoff track from his 1954 Capitol album The Duke Plays Ellington:

With only Wendell Marshall on bass and Butch Ballard on drums, Duke is truly “playing Ellington” - all touch, color, and quiet authority.

Sentiment Meets the Trane

Jump ahead to 1963 and we find Duke in one of his great late‑career dialogues: the truth-in-advertisingly titled Impulse! album Duke Ellington & John Coltrane. And what better way to open it than with In a Sentimental Mood?

It’s gorgeous - John Coltrane’s tenor tone is like a lantern in the dark, and Duke’s voicings are older, wiser, and more spacious. Interestingly, this is the only Ellington standard the two chose for the album.

A Sentimental Surprise

The next version is a little more mysterious. Recorded in early 1963 but not released until 1976 - two years after Duke’s death - it pairs him with another legend: violinist Stéphane Grappelli.

I don’t know the full story behind the delayed release, but I do know this: the performance is wonderful! Grappelli’s lyricism meets Duke’s harmonic poise, and the tune blooms all over again.

So, there we are - Another Sunday, another Ellington solution with enough sentiment to last for decades!

Threaded Thursday: Flipping the Daybreak

Yesterday we enjoyed five versions of the song Daybreak, and it struck me that each of those records also had a very strong flipside. So let’s keep the thread rolling and give those five flips their moment in the sun.

Tommy Dorsey’s Victor disc paired Daybreak with his massive hit There Are Such Things, with The Pied Pipers joining Frank Sinatra on the vocal:

Just a gorgeous record. Nobody could float a ballad quite like Tommy’s band.

Jimmy Dorsey also had a blockbuster on the reverse of his Decca release - Brazil, with Bob Eberly and Helen O’Connell:

Another gem in Jimmy’s run of Latin‑flavored smashes: Bob opens with a slow, romantic chorus, Jimmy slips in an alto sax solo, and Helen brings it home with that bright, rhythmic lift. Ace arranger Tutti Camarata was a wizard at stitching those elements together.

Over on Columbia, the flip of Harry James’ record gives us Manhattan Serenade, sung by the preeminent Helen of the band era - Helen Forrest:

Harry and Helen were simply unbeatable together!

Bob Carroll returns on Capitol with Gordon Jenkins for There Will Never Be Another You:

This one comes from the 20th Century Fox Sonja Henie film Iceland, written by the powerhouse team of Mack Gordon and Harry Warren, who were on a remarkable streak for Fox at the time.

And finally, we turn over Roberto Inglez’s Parlophone disc to find his take on the Cole Porter classic Begin the Beguine:

You truly never know what’s waiting on the other side of a record. That’s why we always flip ’em over at the Warehouse!

Word Association Wednesday: Day Keeps Breaking

For today’s Word Association Wednesday, we simply take the “Daybreak” from Daybreak Express and wind up with the popular 1942 song Daybreak.

The tune takes Ferde Grofé’s “Mardi Gras” theme from his 1925 Mississippi Suite and adds lyrics by Harold Adamson, resulting in a brand‑new hit song nearly two decades later. And all the major labels jumped on it!

The most popular version was recorded by Tommy Dorsey for Victor, featuring a young vocalist named Frank Sinatra:

Tommy’s band was really something. And that boy singer showed promise. Whatever became of him anyway?

Of course, Decca needed to get in on the action, so they had their own Dorsey brother, Jimmy, record it with his star vocalist Bob Eberly:

It’s always interesting comparing Tommy and Jimmy’s versions of the same song — and comparing Frank Sinatra and Bob Eberly while we’re at it. Bob was probably the more popular band singer at the time, and Frank reportedly left Tommy to start a solo career partly because he thought Bob might leave Jimmy’s band first and beat him to it!

Columbia also wanted a slice of the sunrise, so they handed “Daybreak” to their top bandleader, Harry James. His version features vocalist Johnny McAfee:

I like Johnny McAfee a lot — he’s obviously not as famous as Frank or Bob, but he had a lovely, warm sound. He also played sax, but as a romantic singer he was more in the Kenny Sargent mold than the Tex Beneke mold, as far as singing sax sideman go.

The new Capitol label joined the parade too, with arranger‑conductor Gordon Jenkins handling the chart and "guest vocalist" Bob Carroll doing the honors:

Bob Carroll was another fine singer who isn’t well‑known today, but he always delivered the goods.

Let’s jump ahead to 1947 for a nice instrumental detour. Here’s pianist Roberto Inglez on the British Parlophone label:

Roberto was born Robert Inglis in Scotland, but Latinized his name to match the Latin music he specialized in.

So, day has just broken five times now. No wonder this week is going by fast!

Monday Side-Session: Expressly Flipped

For today’s side‑sesh, we flip over yesterday’s two records of Daybreak Express to see (and hear) what’s hiding on the other side.

Duke’s Brunswick Flip: A Southern Stroll

On the flipside of Duke Ellington’s Brunswick disc, we find his take on Dear Old Southland, recorded in late 1933:

The sort‑of‑vocal comes courtesy of trumpeter Louis Bacon, who appeared on just a handful of Ellington sessions. I love how Tricky Sam Nanton threads his wah‑wah trombone around Louis’s vocal — it’s like a sly commentary track running underneath.

To better appreciate Louis Bacon, let’s spin Rude Interlude, a slightly earlier Ellington side for Victor featuring Louis’s scat vocal:

Not rude at all — actually quite lovely. Before the vocal arrives, we get graceful solos from Juan Tizol and Cootie Williams, setting the mood with that early‑’30s Ellington shimmer.

Back to Dear Old Southland: Duke revisited it in 1941 with a solo piano version for Victor:

This comes from the same session as Duke’s solo Solitude we heard last week, both originally issued on Victor’s Hot Piano album — a nice little nugget of unaccompanied Ellington.

Borrah’s Decca Flip: A Moonlit Glide

Now we flip over Borrah Minevitch’s Decca record of “Daybreak Express” and find his harmonica‑band take on the Will Hudson–Eddie DeLange standard Moonglow:

Proof positive that a great song can wear any outfit and still look fabulous!

And while Borrah and his Harmonica Rascals never recorded Dear Old Southland, they did cut a version of Deep River for Brunswick in 1933:

Here’s the twist: Dear Old Southland was based on the melody of Deep River, an earlier spiritual. At the time (1921), adapting a spiritual into a popular song stirred controversy — and understandably so. The lineage is unmistakable once you hear them side by side.

Flip, Listen, Learn

As always, flipping those records over reveals a whole new little world — unexpected pairings, hidden gems, and the occasional spiritual‑to‑song intrigue. That’s half the fun of these Side‑Sessions, and today’s stack delivers beautifully!

Sundays with Duke #19: A Dawnbound Dash

As we continue through 1934, we arrive at one of Duke Ellington’s most joyful recurring themes: the sound of the train. This time it’s a full‑on novelty delight — Daybreak Express.

Leaving the Station

Let’s spin the Victor recording:

It’s remarkable how the arrangement captures the whole journey — the whistle, the wheels, the gathering speed — yet still holds together as a real composition rather than a sound‑effects stunt.

Duke recorded this in late 1933 for a 1934 release, but I don’t think he ever revisited it, unlike, say, Solitude. Everything that needed to be said was said right here.. And after last week’s twelve‑car “Solitude” special, this one‑car novelty train pulls in nice and tidy!

The Warehouse Find

Although Duke’s record was popular, perhaps due to the novelty aspect of the tune, Daybreak Express didn’t inspire many contemporary covers. But I did manage to dig up one!

Borrah Minevich and his Harmonica Rascals recorded their own version for Decca in 1934:

Borrah and the boys could seemingly do anything with their “Technique‑Tone Harmonicas” (as the label proudly put it), so this was a perfect vehicle for them to show off.

I’d happily hop aboard either train!

Collector's note: The sheet music shown at the top isn't real. I'm not sure if there was sheet music published for Daybreak Express, but if there was, I hope it looked like this!

Threaded Thursday: Floyd Plays the Blues

Following Charlie Christian and Benny Goodman yesterday, we stay on the thread of pioneering electric guitarists working inside big‑band settings — and today we meet up with Floyd Smith, who recorded his signature number Floyd’s Guitar Blues with Andy Kirk and His Clouds of Joy for Decca in 1939.

Let’s spin it:

That’s a remarkable display of technique from Floyd. It doesn’t sound like anything else from 1939 — it’s almost like someone slipped a post‑war guitar solo into a pre‑war session!

I’ve always said Andy Kirk’s band was underrated, and one reason I enjoy it so much is the roster of fascinating musicians he nurtured, especially Floyd Smith and Mary Lou Williams. They gave that band a personality all its own.

Indies to the Rescue

Floyd revisited his tune a couple more times, including this small‑combo version from 1947 on the independent Hy‑Tone label:

The rise of independent labels after WWII gave players like Floyd the chance to record material the majors wouldn’t touch — and we’re lucky they did. These sides are little windows into what musicians actually wanted to play.

Krazy King-Sized Blues

One of the most successful of those independents was King Records, and Floyd turned up again in 1957 on a King remake of Floyd’s Guitar Blues, credited to the pickup group Krazy Kris and the Swinging Gentlemen:

It’s a fun, updated take, though I’m not convinced the tune changed enough from Floyd’s original to justify co‑writer credit for Chris Columbo and John Weigland. But that’s the record business for you.

El Rey de la Guitarra

We sneak into the 1960s with one more version — this time without Floyd himself. It’s a stereo remake by Glen Gray and the Casa Loma Orchestra from their 1962 Capitol album They All Swung the Blues, featuring guest guitarist Alvino Rey:

Alvino Rey was the public face of the electric guitar in the 1940s, so bringing him into a Hollywood studio for a session that needed a guitar master was a no‑brainer. I like how he gives a bit of his own twist while staying pretty faithful to the original. I'm a huge fan!

And there you have it — Floyd’s guitar resonating across four decades, from a 1939 Decca side to a 1962 Capitol stereo remake. A single tune tracing the evolution of the electric guitar in American popular music.

But who in 1939 — besides Floyd Smith, Charlie Christian and Alvino Rey — could have imagined that within 20 years, the electric guitar would be the predominant instrument in popular music?