Following up on yesterday’s "Frantic" V-Disc, I wanted to share another "secret" recording from that same 1945 window. While the general public had to wait for commercial releases, the troops overseas were treated to Hollywood Hangover.
This track is a masterclass in the "Warehouse" thrill of discovery. Like Frantic Fantasy, it wasn't a standard studio single—it was cut specifically for the men and women in uniform.
Let’s give it a spin:
The "Dope" on the High Notes
The spotlight here belongs to the one and only Cat Anderson.
If you’ve ever wondered why Duke kept Cat (shown at top of page) in the trumpet section off and on for decades, this is your answer. While Rex Stewart (yesterday's star) was playing inside the trumpet with his half-valves, Cat Anderson was playing above it. His ability to hit those "screamer" high notes with pinpoint accuracy was Duke’s ultimate secret weapon!
The Buck Doesn’t Stop
Interestingly, “Hollywood Hangover” isn't an Ellington composition. It was written by Buck Clayton, the star trumpet player for Count Basie’s band who was in the service at the time.
I always wonder what Buck thought of Cat’s trumpet pyrotechnics on his tune! It’s a rare moment where we get to hear the Ellington engine running on a "Basie-style" blueprint.
The V-Disc Connection
One of the most fascinating things about V-Discs is that they gave artists a chance to record songs they never touched for their "official" labels.
Both Frantic Fantasy and Hollywood Hangover were staples of Duke’s radio broadcasts and live appearances during this era, yet he never recorded them for Victor. Without these V-Discs, these performances might have been lost to the Warehouse of history!
Which V-Disc "Secret" do you prefer: Rex’s "Frantic" gymnastics or Cat’s "Hollywood" high notes?
It's Wednesday, so time for a little word association..
(Me thinking) Black and Tan Fantasy... fantasy... Duke Ellington... Got it!
In 1945, Duke recorded another fantasy - Frantic
Fantasy – but not as a commercial record!
The "Dope" on the V-Disc
What makes this track special is that it wasn't a standard
commercial release. It was recorded as a V-Disc (Victory Disc), produced
specifically for the troops overseas during WWII.
Similar to Glenn Miller’s famous St. Louis Blues March,
"Frantic Fantasy" was part of the musical effort to keep spirits high
on the front lines. These discs weren't sold in stores; they were the
"exclusive" sounds of the war era.
And since the infamous recording ban was in effect for much of WWII, the V-Disc program includes a lot of performances that never had a regular sudio recording or release, such as Frantic Fantasy.
Let’s give it a spin:
Love the extra time allowed on the 12-inch V-Disc!
The Half-Valve Gymnast
The star of the show is cornet star Rex Stewart (shown at top of page). If Bubber Miley
gave "Black and Tan" its soul, Rex gives "Frantic" its
muscle. Using his famous "half-valve" technique—pressing the valves only halfway to create those squeezed, talking tones—he turns the song
into a technical masterclass.
The Evolution
It’s fascinating to note how Duke’s idea of a
"Fantasy" changed. In 1927, it was a slow-burn funeral march. By
1945, it was a high-octane, "Frantic" showcase for a virtuoso
soloist.
Yesterday we looked at Duke’s secret aliases; today we
hear his wartime "secret" recordings. Do you prefer the slow-burn
"Black and Tan" or the high-velocity "Frantic" V-Disc?
Yesterday, we heard three versions of Black and Tan Fantasy by Duke Ellington. But what was on the other sides of those records? Let’s find out!
The "Soliloquy" Snafu
Let’s start with the Brunswick version, as credited to The Washingtonians. The flipside of that record was Soliloquy.
I’m not sure why the composer, Rube Bloom, wasn't credited on the label!
For a fascinating contrast, let’s hear the same song by Paul Whiteman and his Concert Orchestra on this 1927 Victor record:
Interestingly, Rube Bloom’s first name is actually misspelled on that label! Poor guy just couldn’t win.
Paul Whiteman was known as “The King of Jazz” back then, at the very height of his fame, but we know a certain Duke was about to usurp that crown.
The Jabbo Smith Connection
The flipside of the Okeh version of “Black and Tan Fantasy” was another non-Duke tune: What Can a Poor Fellow Do? This session is notable for featuring the great Jabbo Smith subbing for Bubber Miley on trumpet.
I could only find one other period recording of this Billy Meyers and Elmer Schoebel tune. It’s from 1928 by The Original Indiana Five on the Harmony label:
It’s kind of fun, but it also shows exactly the kind of "standard" jazz sound that Duke was rapidly moving away from as he developed his own language.
The Victor Mystery
So, what about the flipside of the Victor version of “Black and Tan Fantasy?” We’ll have to wait until next Sunday to find out!
In 1927, Duke Ellington wasn't just leading a band; he was painting scenes. If East St. Louis Toodle-Oo was the band’s calling card, Black and Tan Fantasy was their manifesto.
Duke was so obsessed with this piece that he recorded it for three different labels in a single year. To truly understand the "Warehouse" soul of the Ellington band, you have to hear how the "Fantasy" shifted depending on the room and the players.
I. The Prototype: Brunswick (April 7, 1927)
Recorded under the name "The Washingtonians." This is the rawest version—slightly faster, a bit more "raggy," and you can hear the band still working out the kinks of that haunting atmosphere.
Let's give that one a spin:
II. The Masterpiece: Victor (October 26, 1927)
This is the "High-Fidelity" version collectors consider the gold standard. The production is cleaner, the mood is darker, and Bubber Miley’s trumpet growl is at its most expressive. And the spelling is wackier!
Let's listen:
The "Dope" on the Growl
The heart of these first two recordings is Bubber Miley. Using a plunger mute and a secret combination of "growling" in his throat, Miley creates a trumpet voice that sounds hauntingly human.
But listen to the very end. As the song fades, Miley quotes Chopin’s "Funeral March." It was a cheeky, morbid wink to the audience—the musical representation of a "Black and Tan" club (where races mixed) being raided, or a night of partying finally meeting the morning sun. It’s a "Fantasy" in the truest sense: a dreamlike journey that starts in a blues stomp and ends at a graveside.
III. The "Hot" Rematch: Okeh (November 3, 1927)
Cladys "Jabbo" Smith
Recorded just eight days after the Victor session, the big "Warehouse" difference here is in the trumpet chair. Jabbo Smith—the young firebrand once considered the only real rival to Louis Armstrong—steps in for Bubber Miley. His presence gives the record a "hotter," more virtuosic edge that contrasts perfectly with Bubber’s bluesy grit!
Here we go:.
The Warehouse Verdict
Why record it three times in one year? Because Duke understood that jazz was a living thing. By comparing these three, you can hear the transition from a 1920s dance band to the most sophisticated musical laboratory in America.
Which one do you prefer? The raw energy of April, the haunting polish of October, or the Jabbo Smith fireworks of November?
The Warehouse Intrigue: Labels and Legends
For a contemporaneous-ish cover, we turn to Clyde McCoy on Columbia (1931):
Once again, Clyde's signature wah-wah trumpet translates perfectly to that "jungle" sound!
A bit of intrigue surfaces with the above label...
You would think that the great Louis Armstrong recorded a version of "Black and Tan Fantasy" back in the 1920s, and think "Oh, cool!" - but it's a trick! The British Parlophone label put Satchmo's name on the label because he was better known than Duke at that time!
All was not lost, however. The two giants finally teamed up for the aptly titled Roulette album "Recording Together for the First Time" in 1961. They revisited the "Fantasy" decades later, and the magic was still there:
Last Sunday, during our look at Duke Ellington’s East St. Louis Toodle-Oo,I mentioned that it made me think of Sally Field as “Gidget” using the expression “toodles” to say goodbye. So why not spend a little time with Gidget today on a cold, wintry day here in New England?
The TV Theme
Here’s the 45-rpm single version of the theme from Sally’s 1965-66 TV series, as recorded by Johnny Tillotson on MGM Records:
Nice tune! Johnny Tillotson, who passed away just last year at age 86, cut a lot of enjoyable records back in the day—from "Poetry in Motion" to this bit of TV theme perfection.
The "Twangy" Bonus
For a bonus, let’s listen to my personal favorite Gidget record, which comes from a sort of unusual source: the twangy guitar man Duane Eddy!
Here’s Duane’s version of the title song from the 1961 Columbia movie “Gidget Goes Hawaiian” on Jamie Records:
I’ve had that 45 for a zillion years and I still dig it! It takes that lighthearted Gidget theme and gives it that signature "low-note" grit that only Duane could provide.
We keep the St. Louis theme going today as we reveal the other side of Ray McKinley—the folksy, singing bandleader!
After WWII, and before he took over the leadership of the legendary Glenn Miller Orchestra in the 1950s, Ray led his own highly successful (and very modern) band as both drummer and vocalist. We’ll do a deeper dive on Ray soon—he’s truly one of the great "side characters" of the era—but right now, let's dig into his big 1948 hit on RCA Victor: You Came a Long Way from St. Louis.
Let's give it a spin:
Pretty cool!
The Folksy Frontman
Ray had a relaxed, drawling vocal style that made it sound like he always "knew the score." Despite the easygoing delivery, he never loses that drummer’s sense of timing; he places his phrases exactly where they need to be to make the song swing.
A look at the label shows the side credited to "Ray McKinley and Some of the Boys." That is just so perfectly McKinley-esque—a down-home, unpretentious way of saying it’s just a small contingent of the band backing him up.
The Modern Touch
While the vocal is folksy, the arrangement is incredibly forward-thinking for 1948. Notice that Paul Kashishian (Kashian) is credited as the drummer here, playing a sparse, atmospheric part that mostly features bongos. It gives the track a "cool jazz" feel long before that term became a marketing slogan.
Ray always insisted on modern, sophisticated charts for his band, proving he was much more than just a "military march" man.
The Warehouse Verdict
So, there you have it: the two sides of Ray McKinley. He was the technically brilliant Sergeant who could get an entire army marching in St. Louis, and the hip, "small-town" vocalist who could tell you exactly how it is once you think you’ve "come a long way."
Whether he was behind the kit or behind the mic, Ray McKinley always delivered the "real dope."
It’s Wednesday, so time for some more word association!
Duke Ellington’s East St. Louis Toodle-O naturally makes me think of the "other" side of the river—St. Louis, Missouri. From there, it’s a short ride on the train of thought to the W.C. Handy classic St. Louis Blues, and an even shorter trip to the St. Louis Blues March, the famous Jerry Gray arrangement that became a powerhouse for Glenn Miller’s AAF (Army Air Force) Band.
So, let’s give it a spin:
The Strike-Breaker: The V-Disc Loophole
That comes from a special V-Disc recording session. This session was allowed to happen even though it was 1943—smack-dab in the middle of the infamous AFM recording ban.
While the rest of the music world was silenced by the strike, V-Discs were exempt because they were intended for military use only. They were the only "new" sounds the GIs had, and they weren't available for commercial sale. It gave the AAF band a "sonic monopoly" that cemented this arrangement as a legend.
The Sergeant on the Skins
Being a march, the rhythm is everything. That relentless, crisp cadence is provided by drummer Ray McKinley. At this point, Ray was a Technical Sergeant under his old friend (and now Captain) Glenn Miller.
McKinley’s precision here is staggering. He had to take a blues song—something meant for a smoky basement—and turn it into something 1,000 men could march to without breaking stride. He doesn't just play the drums; he commands them.
The Post-War Strut: Tex Beneke (1948)
Ray McKinley eventually took over the Miller Orchestra in the mid-1950s, but Tex Beneke was the man who first carried the torch right after the war. In late 1947, Tex cut this version of the "St. Louis Blues March" for RCA Victor, this time featuring drummer Jack Sperling in the hot seat.
This is a classic case of a sprawling AAF arrangement needing to be "trimmed for the tailor"—cut down to fit the 3-minute time constraints of a 10-inch 78rpm record. Even with the edits, 1948 listeners were thrilled to finally own a commercial copy of the tune they’d heard on the radio during the war. It was a massive hit for Tex, though, in the Warehouse, we know you still can’t beat that original AAF V-Disc.
Following up on yesterday’s look at the definitive East St. Louis Toodle-oo, I wanted to share how that same song—and that same band—turned up under a completely different name just a few months later.
In 1928, if you walked into a record shop and bought a disc by The Whoopee Makers on the Pathé label, you were actually taking home the Duke Ellington Orchestra.
The "Dope" on the Alias
Because Duke was under contract with Irving Mills and the Vocalion/Brunswick labels, they often used "The Whoopee Makers" as a pseudonym to record for other companies. It was the same growling brass and the same "Jungle" rhythm, just wearing a different hat!
Let's look at this Pathé pairing:
Side A: East St. Louis Toodle-oo:
I find it fascinating to compare this version to the Vocalion one we heard yesterday. Even with a wacky name on the label, that Bubber Miley trumpet is unmistakable.
Side B: Jubilee Stomp:
This is one of the ultimate "hot" records of the era. It’s the band firing on all cylinders, showing that they could move from the dark "Toodle-oo" mood to a high-energy "stomp" without breaking a sweat.
Note also that the composer credit includes quote marks around "Duke," which you don't see too often!
The Collector's Corner
For me, the joy of these Pathé records is the "secret" nature of them. It’s like finding a treasure map where "X" marks the Duke.
Which side of this Whoopee Makers disc do you prefer: the familiar growl of the Toodle-oo or the frantic energy of the Jubilee Stomp?
It’s hard to imagine the sophisticated Edward Kennedy
Ellington calling himself a "Whoopee Maker," but the budget labels
didn't care.
I’ve always felt that manager Irving Mills was the architect
of this chaos. He knew that "Duke Ellington" was for the elite, but
"The Whoopee Makers" were for the people who just wanted to dance and
pay less for a record by a wackily named group rather than a “name” artist.
Either way, the music holds up!
We continue our chronological journey through the archive in
1926 and '27 as the train stops for another early Duke Ellington
classic: "East St. Louis Toodle-O." It served as the band's
theme song for years, but as with many artifacts in the Warehouse, there’s a
secret hidden behind the label.
First, let's hear the definitive 1926 recording by Duke
Ellington and His Kentucky Club Orchestra on Vocalion Records:
The "Todalo" Truth
So evocative, but what is it supposed to be evoking?
I will admit that for many years, I thought the title
referred to someone saying goodbye to a section of the Missouri city. You know,
like Sally Field-as-Gidget saying “toodles” to STL!
But here’s the real dope: Despite what the label says, Duke and co-writer Bubber Miley didn't intend for this to be a "Toodle-Oo" (the British slang for goodbye). The original title was "East St. Louis Todalo." Duke pronounced it "toad-low," describing a slouching, rhythmic, "broken" walk—the gait of a weary man walking home after a grueling day's work. Duke chose East St. Louis, Illinois, because it was a gritty industrial hub that represented the working man’s struggle. The record label misheard the title, and a jazz legend was born out of a typo!
The "Talking" Horns: Bubber, Tricky Sam, and
the Kid
That haunting main melody played by Bubber Miley on
trumpet? Bubber actually "borrowed" it from a 19th-century spiritual
called "The Holy City." He took a sacred hymn and
"corrupted" it with a plunger mute to create the "Jungle
Style."
Answering Bubber is the incredible Joe "Tricky
Sam" Nanton on trombone. He used a rubber sink plunger to create a
"wa-wa" sound that was eerily human. While the industry marketed this
as "primitive," it was actually a highly technical art form. He
wasn't just playing notes; he was speaking a language.
And listen to the deep "floor" of the saxophone
section. That is the debut of Harry Carney on baritone sax. He was just
17 years old here, but he would stay by Duke’s side for the next 47 years.
The Decade Update: 1937’s "New" Look
By 1937, the band had grown from a club outfit into a
world-class orchestra. Duke recorded The New East St. Louis
Toodle-O to show off this evolution. Here's Duke Ellington and his Famous Orchestra on Master Records:
If the 1926 version is a weary walk down a dusty road, the
1937 version is that same man finally reaching the city lights. Bubber Miley
had passed away by this time, so you hear his successor, Cootie Williams,
taking over the "growl" trumpet duties. It’s faster, smoother, and
"bigger"—a perfect example of Duke updating his architecture without
losing the soul of the building.
Of note is that The New East St. Louis Toodle-O was the first release on Master Records, a short-lived label owned by Duke's longtime manager Irving Mills.
The Covers: From the "Home of Happy Feet" to Rock Icons
This song is so quintessentially Ellingtonian that except for Duke himself, few dared to remake it for years. But when they did, the results were fascinating.
In 1959, veteran arranger Van Alexander gave it a snappy update for his Capitol album The Home of Happy Feet:
Interestingly, the liner notes credit trumpeter Shorty
Sherock with playing in the "Cootie Williams style"—forgetting
that it was Bubber Miley who laid the original tracks!
Then, in 1974, Steely Dan threw a curveball by
including it on Pretzel Logic. It’s a surreal, faithful tribute where
pedal steel player Jeff Baxter does a yeoman’s job mimicking those
"talking" horns:
The Flipside: Birmingham Breakdown
Back to Duke himself. Let's spin the original flipside of
the Vocalion 78:
While "East St. Louis" was the mood, Birmingham
Breakdown was the engine—showing off the band's technical speed.
Birmingham Breakdown didn't get many covers either, but Ellington devotee Charlie Barnet cut a swinging version for Bluebird in 1941:
Always great to hear the Barnet band keeping the drivers
drivin’! That train ain't ‘breakin' down’ anytime soon!
This coming Monday, January 12, marks the sixtieth anniversary of the premiere of the Batman TV series on ABC! What better way to celebrate than by cranking up Neal Hefti’s legendary, driving theme?
Here is the original 45 rpm version by Neal on RCA Victor:
The rarely heard flipside, "Batman Chase," is also incredibly cool—it captures that frantic, pop-art energy of the show perfectly.
Those stereo mixes sound great!
If you haven’t watched the series in a while, I’m inviting you to join me in a "real-time" retrospective: I’m going to watch each episode on the same date it originally aired all those years ago! Since the show famously aired in two parts, it’ll be a fun mid-week tradition.
As we depart Chattanooga, we’re going to take one more quick ride on a musical choo
choo!
This time our conductor is the great Louis Jordan, who along
with his Tympany Five, brings us Choo Choo Ch’Boogie on Decca Records in
1946!
Here comes Mr. Jordan:
Louis Jordan made a ton of great records, but everything just
seems to come together just right on this record! Listeners rode it for 18 weeks at number one on the R&B charts!
Pianist Wild Bill Davis and guitarist Carl Hogan keep the
drivers drivin’ on this sleek jump-blues express! You know young Chuck Berry
was listening!
Note that one of the co-writers is Milt Gabler, Louis’s
producer at Decca, who helped Louis become King of the Jukeboxes!
And was it such a 'jump' for Milt Gabler to go from
producing Louis Jordan’s jump blues to Bill Haley’s Rock Around the Clock?
Not at all—the tracks were already laid!
It’s probably no surprise that the early Duke Ellington tune
Choo Choo made me think of other Choo Choo songs! Kind of a “word association”
thing, I guess!
In any event, I would think that the most famous of all choo
choos is the Chattanooga Choo Choo, made famous by the Mack Gordon/Harry Warren
song introduced by Glenn Miller and his Orchestra in the 1941 movie “Sun
Valley Serenade” from 20th Century Fox.
Let’s listen to Glenn’s recording on Bluebird Records:
That recording was an enormous hit in 1941, becoming the
first record to sell a million copies in about 15 years. It was even awarded the
first official gold record, with a literal record spray painted with gold paint presented to Glenn as a publicity stunt!
But you know what? I find it a little hard to listen to! Here’s
why…
Many years ago, I came across a Glenn Miller LP (shown
above) which was a promo item for Salada Foods ("That's Salada Tea!") and it's something of a mishmash of recordings. Mostly studio cuts of Bluebird/Victor
singles, but it also included a track by Glenn’s AAF band and two soundtrack
recordings!
The first track on side one was the soundtrack recording of
Chattanooga Choo Choo from “Sun Valley Serenade” – the whole shootin’ match! The
band part with Tex Beneke and The Modernaires (plus Paula Kelly) and the song and dance routine
with Dorothy Dandridge and The Nicholas Brothers!
Here’s a video of the number in question:
Now, what really caught my ear is that the band portion is
an extended arrangement, much longer than the 78-rpm single version. It
includes Tex whistling and whatnot.
But it’s the second instrumental chorus that's not included on the single version that blew me away! Specifically,
the smooth-as-silk saxes, which I now know are Hal McIntyre on alto, Tex on
tenor, and Ernie Caceres on baritone, with Wilbur Schwartz and Al Klink
supplying the clarinet flourishes on that particular extra chorus - Wilbur also plays alto and Al also plays tenor in that awesome sax section!
This extra chorus comes after the instrumental of the bridge of the song. You expect the vocal to start if you're conditioned by the single version, but there's a cool extra chorus!
It’s not hyperbole to say that the extra 20-something seconds
of that extra chorus was instrumental (yes, I went there) in turning me
into a big band (and Miller) fan so many years ago (although I prefer not to do the math)!
So, the commercial single version of Chattanooga Choo Choo,
only having about three and a half minutes to work with, really sounds to me
like just a condensed version of Jerry Gray's “real” arrangement, with about a minute missing!
And to really get into the weeds, I like how Tex sings "All aboard... get aboard..." on the soundtrack version vs. "Get aboard... all aboard..." on the single version! Yeah, I know!
There’s actually a handy transition in the full soundtrack
version where it goes from the band part to the dance part, so some reissues cut
the track there, which is fine. Then at some point, the true stereo tracks of the songs from "Sun Valley Serenade" were found and issued (Yes, stereo in 1941!). To me that gives us the definitive version of Glenn Miller and
his Orchestra playing Chattanooga Choo Choo!
Let’s listen to that version:
Yup, that’s the goods!
I have a couple of notes on the video clip…
I love seeing the band in action and the interplay between
the musicians.
I like how Hal McIntyre (already looking like a future star
bandleader) mouths something to Tex right before he gets up and starts
whistling and how Glenn directs Tex over to sing with the Modernaires.
You also see at what point Paula Kelly (my sneaky MVP of the
recording) joins in! (See more about Paula and the Mods and the actual original A-side of the platter here!)
It’s cool to see Billy May and teenage Ray Anthony (still
around at age 103!) in the trumpet section and Glenn’s good pal Chummy McGregor
on piano. (Not to "dis" John Payne, the movie’s leading man who portrayed the
band’s pianist - he’s cool) and everyone else.
And only a couple of reaction scenes of Milton Berle and
thankfully no dialogue over the music with Lyn Bari, who's steaming because Mr. Payne is MIA (which lets Chummy sit in at this "rehearsal") along with perceived romantic rival Sonja Henie, although if you've seen any movie ever made, it's no spoiler as to whom John Payne winds up with!
I like how the band is on one section of a big soundstage and Dorothy
and the Nicholas Brothers are right on there on the left with their choo choo!
And what a fun number by those three. Dorothy Dandridge is best
remembered, if at all, for various issues she had, but what a bundle of looks
and talent she was! It’s unfortunate that the times didn’t allow her to become as big
a star as her talent warranted.
And the Nicholas Brothers are just phenomenal! It’s great
that this number (as well as the Kalamazoo number from “Orchestra Wives”)
captures them in undiluted form!
Plus, it's a lot of fun to hear the band playing the accompaniment music, including a snazzy tenor sax bit from Tex!
Here's a link to another video of the movie scene, with the stereo track synced in:
So, anyway, yeah, I choo-choo-choose the soundtrack version!
Yesterday we started our journey through the chronology of
Duke Ellington’s recordings with his first recordings as a bandleader on the
obscure Blu-Disc label.
If those two sides were the first bricks in the eventual
skyscraper of Ellingtonia, today we present a little of the mortar, if
you will!
Said mortar is in the form of a session for Blu-Disc from a
few days earlier in November of 1924, when Duke first entered a recording studio,
but…
These weren't released as "Ellington" records.
They were released as backing tracks for a singer named Alberta Prime.
The Technical Hook: Even though Duke’s name isn’t on
the front, this is the same DNA as the Choo Choo session. It’s the
Washingtonians providing the muscle.
Let’s listen to the first side, It’s Gonna Be a Cold,
Cold Winter, a solo vocal for Alberta Prime:
Notice how Duke plays behind a vocalist. Even at this early
stage, he wasn't just "playing chords." He was weaving a tapestry
around the voice.
Now the B-side, Parlor Social De Luxe, which features
longtime Ellington drummer Sonny Greer in a duet with Alberta:
Sonny Greer is the ultimate Ellington “side character,”
serving as Duke’s drummer for about 30 years!
The Warehouse Verdict: I’ve included these because
the Warehouse isn't just about the "Hits." It's about the Context.
To understand the Duke, you have to hear him when he was just a
"work-for-hire" pianist in an obscure Blu-Disc studio.
These cuts do function as a history lesson to me. They’re
important for providing said context, but not something for a playlist in 2026
for repeated listening!
Actual Alberta Hunter!
One thing to note: There has apparently long been a debate
over the identity of singer Alberta Prime. Some think it’s pseudonym for
Alberta Hunter – pseudonyms being very common on record labels in those days –
as we’ll see. But it seems Ms. Prime and Ms. Hunter were two separate people.
And what’s the deal with Blu-Disc records having a really
red label? Were the discs themselves blue? Hmmm…
As we kick off the new year,
I’m thrilled to begin a journey I’ve been planning for some time: Sundays
with Duke. Every Sunday, we’re going to look at a Duke Ellington recording
in chronological order, tracing the evolution of a genius, one 78rpm disc at a
time.
To understand the skyscraper, you have to look at the first
brick. For Duke, that brick is Blu-Disc T1002, recorded in November
1924. This single record contains the two poles of the Ellington world.
At this stage, the band is still The Washingtonians, but in addition to Duke, the band already includes long-running core Ellington band members Sonny Greer on drums, Otto Hardwick on alto sax and (maybe) Fred Guy on banjo, along with original trumpet star Bubber Miley! The mostly obscure trombonist Charlie Irvis rounds out the sextet of musicians.
OK, so what about the music? Let's dig in...
The "A" Side: Choo Choo
"Choo Choo" is a classic 1920s novelty "pep" tune. It’s
light, it’s rhythmic, and it features a literal train-whistle imitation that
was the "viral hook" of its day.
What to Listen For:
The
Whistle: A fun novelty touch, but notice how tight the rhythm section
is underneath it.
The
Energy: This is a young band hungry to make a mark. You can hear the
raw enthusiasm of Bubber Miley and Sonny Greer through the
thin, acoustic recording.
Let’s give it a spin:
Even in this early 1924 session with the Washingtonians, you
can hear the seeds of his genius - specifically his lifelong fascination with the
rhythms and whistles of the American railroad. It’s the first link in a chain
that leads directly to later masterpieces like Daybreak Express and Happy-Go-Lucky
Local.
The "B" Side: Rainy Nights
If "Choo Choo" is the train leaving the station, "Rainy
Nights" is the feeling of looking out the window at the dark city
passing by. This is the "Warehouse Secret" of this session. Even in
1924, Duke wasn't just interested in catchy tunes; he was interested in atmosphere.
What to Listen For:
The
Mood: It’s slower, moodier, and hints at the "Indigo"
textures Duke would master a decade later.
The
Trumpet: Listen to Bubber Miley. You can already hear the beginnings
of that soulful, "vocal" horn style that would define the band’s
identity at the Cotton Club.
Let’s give it a listen:
You can’t really hear Duke’s piano there, but in those days of
acoustical recording with everyone playing into one giant horn, we had to take what
we could get! Within a couple of years, the advent of electrical recording allowed
for more subtlety in the band’s recordings.
The Warehouse Perspective
Starting with these two tracks reminds us that Duke’s genius
didn't appear out of thin air—it was built on the foundation of 1920s dance
music. Whether he was playing a "pep" tune or a "mood"
piece, the technical discipline was already there.
I feel like we're almost at the point where you can enjoy the two sides as entertainment here in 2026, not just as a history lesson, if you know what I mean.
It’s the start of a journey from a "novelty" band
to the greatest orchestra in history. I hope you’ll join me every Sunday as we
watch that transformation happen and we build that skyscraper, one "brick" at a time.
Welcome to the Duke’s Workshop: An Ellington Chronology
Welcome back to the Warehouse!
Starting tomorrow (and every Sunday for the next year), we’re embarking on a massive project: a chronological journey through the recording career of Edward Kennedy "Duke" Ellington.
Duke famously said, "My instrument is not the piano, it's the orchestra," and over the next sixty-ish entries, you’ll hear exactly what he meant. This list isn't just a collection of songs; it’s a map of how American music evolved from the "Jungle Style" of the 1920s Cotton Club to the sophisticated, long-form suites of the 1950s.
What to Expect:
For each entry in this archive, I’ve embedded a recording from my personal physical and digital collections. You’ll find:
The Original Ellington Masters: From the 1924 foundations to the 1959 brilliance of Anatomy of a Murder.
The Sidemen: Deep dives into the "side characters" like Johnny Hodges, Cootie Williams, Rex Stewart, and Cat Anderson.
The Covers & Contemporaries: Fascinating "plus" recordings—versions by the Mills Brothers, Bing Crosby, and even the "Warehouse" favorite, Spike Jones—to show just how far Duke’s influence reached.
Whether you’re a lifelong "Duke-ophile" or a newcomer looking to understand why Ellington is considered America’s greatest composer, I hope this collection serves as a valuable resource.
