Monday Side‑Session: Doin’ Somethin’

Yesterday I mentioned that Duke Ellington’s great 1940 showcase for Cootie Williams, Concerto for Cootie, took on a second life a couple of years later when Bob Russell added lyrics and turned it into the pop song Do Nothin’ Till You Hear from Me.

So today, we’ll take a little tour through some notable versions of that tune.

🎙️ Ban‑Era Birth of a Ballad

The American Federation of Musicians recording ban was still in effect when the song appeared, so Duke couldn’t record it right away. But the band began performing it in 1943, as we hear on this aircheck featuring vocalist Al Hibbler:

The melody is the same, of course, but the new arrangement — with Lawrence Brown’s trombone and Al’s vocal — makes it feel like a different song entirely from Concerto for Cootie, if you follow me.

📻 Reissues, Renamings & Rising Fame

Duke must have liked the lyrics, because the band kept the song in rotation on broadcasts and personal appearances, even though Victor was late settling with the musicians’ union and couldn’t record it. Meanwhile, as the song gained popularity, Victor reissued the original 1940 Concerto for Cootie under the new Do Nothin’ Till You Hear from Me title — and it became a big hit.

Meanwhile, Decca and Capitol both settled with the AFM in the fall of 1943, and each label jumped on the song and released popular versions.

💿 Decca Dives In

Decca handed the tune to Woody Herman, who delivered it with his own vocal:

The song really suits Woody — relaxed, confident, and right in his wheelhouse.

📀 Capitol Comes Calling

Capitol gave the song to Stan Kenton, featuring Red Dorris on the vocal:

This was from Stan’s very first Capitol session, but the band already had its own unmistakable sound.

Red also played tenor sax, so he fits that classic side character mold of the sax player with a fun nickname who steps up for the occasional vocal.

🎼 Columbia Comes Through at Last

By the time Victor finally settled with the federation in late 1944, the song wasn’t quite as fresh, so Duke didn’t record it for the label. Fortunately for us, he did cut a studio version with Al Hibbler for Columbia in 1947:

You can hear that Al is leaning a bit more into his idiosyncrasies than he did in 1943, though not as much as he would during his later solo career. He was a unique vocalist, to be sure!

🌟 Ella Elevates, Webster Warms

Let’s jump ahead to 1957 for Ella Fitzgerald’s epic seven‑and‑a‑half‑minute version from her Verve album Ella Fitzgerald Sings the Duke Ellington Songbook, Volume One:

Ella sings it as though it were written just for her, and Ben Webster’s tenor is as magnificent as ever.

As a bonus, here's Ella performing the song with Duke on The Ed Sullivan Show in 1965:

So wonderful to see!

🎺 Satchmo Stamps His Signature

Louis Armstrong joins Duke for this track from their 1961 Roulette album Recording Together for the First Time:

It’s great to hear Satch put his own stamp on the song.

🎚️ Brown’s Bold, Brassy Back‑to‑Backs

For an Ellington‑adjacent version, Lawrence Brown returns to the tune for an instrumental take on his 1965 Impulse! album Inspired Abandon:

Sounds great — warm, confident, and unmistakably Lawrence.

And he’s back with Duke again for this instrumental version from the 1966 RCA Victor album The Popular Duke Ellington:

A totally different vibe, but both cuts show just how masterful Lawrence Brown was on the trombone.

🎺 Cootie Comes Back

We sneak back to 1960 to (sort of) come full circle as Cootie Williams returns with this cut from his awesomely title Warwick album Do Nothing Till You Hear from Cootie:

I included this one today and not yesterday, as it plays more as Do Nothin' Till You Hear from Me rather than as Concerto for Cootie, if that makes any sense!

🎵 A Melody’s Many Lives

A great ride through both versions of Duke’s melody — the instrumental original and the lyrical reinvention that took on a life of its own.

Sundays with Duke #29: Cootie’s Big Moment

As we step into the 1940s, Duke Ellington and His Famous Orchestra is firing on all cylinders!

Billy Strayhorn had joined the fold in 1939, bringing his brilliant compositional mind; Jimmy Blanton was redefining what the bass could be; and in early 1940, the great tenor saxophonist Ben Webster arrived to complete one of the most storied editions of the band. Duke had also split from Irving Mills and begun a new chapter with Victor Records.

A Trumpet Triumph

We open this run of classics with a showcase for a star who had already been lighting up the band for years — Cootie Williams — in the immortal Concerto for Cootie.

Here’s the Victor recording from March 1940:

What a spectacular spotlight for one of the true trumpet giants.

The Ellington orchestra kept the piece in its book for radio broadcasts and personal appearances, even after Cootie left the band, though they didn’t return to it in the studio for quite some time.

Ray Rises to the Occasion

For example, here’s Ray Nance taking the lead on a 1944 broadcast excerpt:

Ray, of course, stepped into Cootie’s chair — and this shows just how capably he carried the mantle.

Title Trouble

The melody soon took on a second life when Bob Russell added lyrics and it became the popular song Do Nothin’ ’Til You Hear from Me. To my ears, though, that’s a separate tune; the original remains Concerto for Cootie!

Things get interesting with this 1945 aircheck of Cootie performing essentially the original arrangement with his own band — but it’s announced as Do Nothin’ ’Til You Hear from Me:

Whatever the title, the music still hits!

Cootie's "New" Take

Cootie later revisited the piece for his 1958 RCA Victor album Cootie Williams in Stereo:

I often see this listed as New Concerto for Cootie, though the label itself doesn’t include the “new.” And now the composer credit has shifted to Cootie rather than Duke — another twist in the tune’s long life.

Cat Comes Calling

And just for fun, here’s a fascinating contrast: a 1958 French recording by former Ellington trumpeter Cat Anderson:

A completely different energy — and a joy to hear.

We’ll dig a bit more into the Do Nothin’ ’Til You Hear from Me variation tomorrow. But for sheer impact, it’s hard to top the original.

Sixties Saturday: Boom Boom!

I saw the sad news that Freddy Cannon passed away this past week at age 89.

Freddy’s records were a staple of the oldies shows I used to listen to back in the day. The DJs always made a point of saying he was from Revere, Mass., and they always called him Freddy “Boom Boom” Cannon — like it was part of his birth certificate.

1959 — The Blast Begins

Freddy burst onto the scene in 1959 with Tallahassee Lassie on the Swan label:

That’s literally a blast — all snare cracks, handclaps, and teenage rocket fuel.

I remember Freddy saying that Elvis told him he had a copy of Tallahassee Lassie in his home jukebox. How cool is that?

1962 — Summer at the Park

Freddy’s biggest hit — the one everyone remembers — is Palisades Park from 1962:

That sounds like Summer itself: neon lights, roller coasters, cotton candy, and transistor radios turned up too loud!

It used to be a fun trivia nugget that Chuck Barris wrote Palisades Park, but explaining who Chuck Barris was now feels like a whole separate documentary!

1964 — Back‑to‑School Beat

For one more, let’s jump to 1964 with “Abigail Beecher” on Warner Bros:

That’s one of my favorites — pure pep‑rally energy — and it’s been on my Back‑to‑School playlist for ages!

Rest in peace, Freddy. Thanks for all the Boom Boom

Threaded Thursday: How They Hypnotize

From yesterday’s detour into the 1938 Mercer/Warren tune that felt like it should’ve been in a Warner Bros. picture (Something Tells Me), we follow the thread to a 1938 Mercer/Warren song that actually was in a Warner Bros. movie: Jeepers Creepers, introduced in Going Places.

The song wasn’t just a hit — it was a big hit, Academy Award–nominated and instantly absorbed into the bloodstream of American pop.

We'll be spinning versions from its 1938–39 moment of peak popularity, let’s drop the needle...

Satchmo Starts the Spell

Louis Armstrong introduced the tune in the film and then cut his Decca version in January 1939:

It’s hard not to treat this as the definitive reading — the one that sets the hypnotic pattern.

Ethel Enters

But Satch wasn’t first in the studio. That honor goes to the wonderful Ethel Waters, who recorded it for Bluebird in November 1938:

I don’t usually slot Ethel into the novelty lane, but she handles the material with real ease.

Ford's Focus

Ford

Victor handed the tune to Larry Clinton, with Ford Leary on the vocal:

Ford was also a trombonist, so he’s similar to the Tex Beneke/Sully Mason side character, but not from the sax section and Ford was his middle name, not a nickname.

Pops' Swing Wing

Jack

Then there’s the king of the singer/trombonists, Jack Teagarden, singing with The Four Modernaires and Paul Whiteman’s Swing Wing for Decca:

Always fascinating to hear the Modernaires before their Miller years.

And yes — this is the version used in the 2001 horror film Jeepers Creepers. Not my beat either.

Paula's Peepers

Future Modernaires partner Paula Kelly sings it with Al Donahue’s band on Vocalion:

I’ll say it again: Paula was an underrated canary.

Leo Leaps In

Leo on left, Gene on right

The wonderfully unpredictable Leo Watson gives a relatively “straight” vocal with Gene Krupa on Brunswick:

“Straight” being a very relative term in Leo‑land! Hear more Leo here.

The Mills Make Eyes

A terrific Mills Brothers version — issued by Brunswick only in England at the time:

It sounds exactly like what the Mills Brothers singing Jeepers Creepers in 1939 should sound like!

Ambrose & Evelyn Abroad

While we’re in England, here's Ambrose and his Orchestra with Evelyn Dall on British Decca:

A sharp, stylish arrangement — very Ambrose.

Hot Club Creeping

Then to France for the Quintette of the Hot Club of France:

Django and Grappelly never miss!

A Four‑Vocalist Free‑for‑All

We close with a Benny Goodman Camel Caravan aircheck from January 17, 1939 — four vocalists, each taking a turn. I won't spoil who they are, Johnny Mercer will let you know:

You can probably guess who I think walked away with it.

And One More Cartoon Thread

Before we leave the hypnotic spell of this tune: I have to mention that there was a 1939 Looney Tune titled Jeepers Creepers. A fun watch — and another place where the song’s DNA seeped into the culture.

And yet, after all this spinning…we're still no closer to knowing where those peepers came from!

Word Association Wednesday: Telling Something

For today’s WAW spin‑off from Something to Live For, the logical landing point — at least for me — is the 1938 Johnny Mercer–Harry Warren tune Something Tells Me.

It had a surprisingly busy little year, popping up across labels, bands, and even an animated operating room.

Fats Starts the Conversation

The first version out of the gate was Fats Waller’s Victor recording:

Fats gives it that patented sly, side‑eye delivery — but he’s not mocking the song. He’s just letting it wink.

Bluebird Brightness: Jan Savitt & Bon Bon

Recorded just after Fats but released a bit earlier was the Bluebird entry by Jan Savitt and his Top Hatters, featuring George “Bon Bon” Tunnell:

I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again: Bon Bon was one of the best band vocalists of the era!

Kay’s “Sassy” Sully Session

Kay Kyser brought the tune to Brunswick with Sully Mason on the vocal:

Maybe it’s my imagination, but it always sounds like Kay introduces him as “Sassy” Sully Mason.” Sully is a prime example of one of my favorite side characters — the sax‑section guy with a fun nickname who steps up to the mic for a novelty vocal!

Sweet Bands and Bell Music

Even more gimmicky than Kyser’s late‑’30s outfit were Bert Block and his Bell Music, who cut the tune for Vocalion with Bill Johnson singing:

These late‑1930s sweet bands have a charm all their own — a kind of earnest, slightly sugary optimism.

Decca Doubles: Will Osborne & Louis Armstrong

Decca issued two versions. First up: Will Osborne with canary Janice Todd:

Those wonderfully slurpy trombones are pure period flavor too!

And then, the heavy hitter: Louis Armstrong:

Satch gives the song a little grit and credibility after all that sweetness while still keeping it fun.

Across the Pond: Silvester Steps In

For one more spin, let's hop over to England for Victor Silvester and his Ballroom Orchestra:

Silvester made mountains of dance‑oriented records, and you can practically see a couple quick‑stepping across a parquet floor to this one.

A 1938 Time Capsule

The song didn’t travel far beyond its debut year, but it remains a delightful artifact — a snapshot of how a mid‑tier pop tune could ripple across labels, bands, and styles in the late ’30s.

Warehouse Whispers

You’d think a Johnny Mercer–Harry Warren song published by Warner Bros. would’ve come from a movie. Something tells me it was probably part of a stack of tunes written by the pair — some destined for films, some left to float around the publishing department.

But all was not lost: The tune did find a second life in several Warner Bros. cartoons, most notably 1938’s The Daffy Doc:

Recognizing popular songs in Carl Stalling’s scores for Looney Tunes and Merrie Melodies never stops being a thrill — like catching a familiar face in a crowd of animated chaos!

Monday Side-Session: The Sidemen Shine in '39

Following yesterday’s look at Something to Live For, which introduced us to composer/arranger/pianist Billy Strayhorn and vocalist Jean Eldridge, today’s side-session keeps both of them in the spotlight. We’re dipping into a handful of 1939 small‑unit sides recorded for the Vocalion label — little pockets of Ellingtonia where the sidemen stretch out and the textures get wonderfully intimate.

Johnny & Jean

We start with a Johnny Hodges–led date from February, featuring Jean on vocal. Here’s Like a Ship in the Night:

Flip the disc and you get the instrumental Swingin’ on the Campus:

Jean returns for Mississippi Dream Boat:

And here’s that record’s instrumental flipside, Dooji Wooji:

You can really hear Ivie Anderson’s influence in Jean's phrasing, which makes sense given that her main role was as a relief vocalist when Ivie’s asthma kept her off the bandstand.

It’s nice that Jean got a couple of studio moments with members of the band; she’s a small but distinctive part of the Ellington story, and these sides give her a little corner of the warehouse shelf.

Billy Sits In

The next few numbers feature Billy Strayhorn sitting in on piano and contributing arrangements — early glimpses of the voice that would soon become inseparable from Duke’s.

From June, here’s the Cootie Williams–led “Blues A Poppin’”:

Billy’s piano solo is a gem, and Cootie on trumpet with Johnny on alto is always a guaranteed good time.

Cootie and Billy return for September’s Johnny Hodges–led The Rabbit’s Jump:

“The Rabbit” was one of Johnny’s nicknames — and yes, he could jump!

Next up is October’s Tired Socks, also from the Hodges unit:

I’ve always wondered about that title. Is it just a bit of whimsical nonsense, or was someone in the band making a sly comment about life on the road?

November: A New Sound Arrives

We hit November as Barney Bigard leads his unit — with Strayhorn at the piano — on Minuet in Blues:

It’s a lovely showcase for Barney’s clarinet, with Rex Stewart adding his unmistakable cornet color.

And here’s the historical kicker: Duke’s new bassist, Jimmy Blanton, had joined the band by this point and plays on this side. Duke recognized immediately that Blanton was something extraordinary, and at the same session he recorded a pair of duets with him for Columbia.

Here’s the simply titled Blues:

And the flipside, Plucked Again:

With Billy Strayhorn and Jimmy Blanton arriving in 1939 — and Ben Webster soon to join in January 1940 — the Ellington orchestra was on the brink of one of its most astonishing periods. You can feel the ground shifting under these small‑group sides.

Warehouse Whispers

Back-room bulletin from the label files

1939 wasn’t just a musical turning point — it was a business one. Duke severed his long-running relationship with Irving Mills that year, reshaping the machinery behind the band just as the music itself was evolving. A pivotal year on every front!

Sundays with Duke #28: Billy’s Bow

Opening the Door to 1939

As we step into 1939 with Duke Ellington, we immediately meet a milestone: (I Want) Something to Live For, the very first collaboration between Duke and a young Billy Strayhorn. The tune was essentially part of Billy’s job interview — one of the pieces he brought to Duke when he was auditioning his way into what would become one of the most fruitful partnerships in American music.

Jean with Duke

The Ellington band recorded the song for Brunswick with vocalist Jean Eldridge:

Duke handled the arrangement, but Billy sits in on piano — a lovely symbolic passing of the torch. Jean, usually a “relief vocalist” for Ivie Anderson for personal appearances, rarely got called for studio dates, making this session a small gem in the catalog.

The record didn’t make much noise at the time, but Duke kept the tune in the band book.

Here it is resurfacing in a 1945 aircheck featuring Marie Ellington with Billy at the piano:

A rare solo spotlight for Marie — no relation to Duke, but later married to Nat King Cole.

A Quiet Tune Wanders Out Into the World

The next studio recording seems to come from an unexpected corner: sixteen‑year‑old piano prodigy André Previn, who included it on his 1946 Sunset album Andre Previn Plays Duke Ellington:

Barry Ulanov’s liner notes mention that André didn’t know the tune before the session — a sign of how under‑the‑radar it still was.

And it's just André on that cut, not the trio.

Only one other 1940s studio version appears to exist: Lena Horne’s 1947 MGM recording, verse and all:

It was apparently released only in England at the time. Lena, a close friend of Strayhorn, likely knew the song through him rather than through its modest public life.

The 1950s: Dormant No More

As with many of the songs we’ve been dusting off in the Warehouse lately, the LP era of the 1950s brought a renewed appetite for deep‑cut Ellingtonia. Let's listen to a couple of Ellington-adjacent versions...

First up, Betty Roché from her 1956 Bethlehem album Take the A Train:

Betty crossed paths with Duke more than once — and yes, the album title is a spoiler for a future stop on our journey!

Then comes Eugenie Baird on her 1959 Design LP with the gloriously clunky title Eugenie Baird Sings – Duke’s Boys Play Duke Ellington:

Mercer Ellington — literally Duke’s boy — directs the band, and the wide stereo separation lets Ben Webster’s tenor loom large behind Eugenie's vocal.

Duke Returns to the Tune

In 1960, Duke recorded an unreleased-at-the-time instrumental version for Columbia:

It stayed in the vault until the late 1970s, but it’s a beauty.

We jump to 1962 for an Ellington‑adjacent take by Johnny Hodges, who included the tune on his Verve album The Eleventh Hour:

A brisker tempo than usual — and it works like a charm.

Duke reenters the picture in 1963 with Swedish singer Alice Babs on the Reprise album Serenade to Sweden:

Recorded in ’63, released in ’66 — a light Nordic breeze with Billy once again manning the piano bench for his song.

Also in 1966 came Ella at Duke’s Place, reuniting Ella Fitzgerald with Duke and giving us another radiant reading of the song:

Jimmy Jones, Ella's musical director at the time, sits in on piano for this one.

Full Circle: Strayhorn at the Piano

To close the loop, we return to Billy Strayhorn himself, who recorded a solo piano version in 1963 for his United Artists album The Peaceful Side:

It’s a gentle, introspective reading — the composer alone with his own melody, years after that first audition for Duke. Peaceful indeed.

A Foundation Stone

It may not have been obvious in 1939, but (I Want) Something to Live For was the first brick in a new foundation for the Ellington orchestra — the moment when Strayhorn’s voice began to intertwine with Duke’s, reshaping the band’s sound for decades to come.