Tuesday Tidbit: Smoke Rings

Still thinking about Duke Ellington’s I Got It Bad (And That Ain’t Good), I’m reminded of how I first encountered that record. It goes all the way back to my early big‑band‑fan days — young, curious, collecting anything I could get my hands on, absorbing the era one 78 at a time.

One of the most enlightening finds from that period was the Smoke Rings album of Victor 78s from 1944. Eight discs, eight bands, each with a hit from 1936–43. It felt like a curated crash course in the pop landscape of the time. Duke’s side was in there, of course — and hearing it in that lineup made a lasting impression.

So today, I thought it would be fun to revisit all eight sides and add the impressions I had back then.

Side 1: These Foolish Things Remind Me of You — Benny Goodman

At the time, I mainly knew Benny Goodman as the King of Swing — Sing, Sing, Sing, Don’t Be That Way, all the up‑tempo instrumentals. So hearing his band play a ballad was a surprise. Helen Ward’s fragile, wistful vocal style fits the song perfectly, like tissue paper around a keepsake. It was my first glimpse of BG’s softer palette.

Side 2: Once in a While — Tommy Dorsey

A lovely record from the cold‑open trombone solo straight through the quartet vocal. I already knew Tommy Dorsey’s trombone sound, so that felt familiar. Jack Leonard I recognized from Marie, and later — once I’d heard more TD sides — I realized Edythe Wright was tucked into the vocal ensemble even though the label claimed it was a male quartet.

Side 3: My Reverie — Larry Clinton

My favorite of the set. Larry Clinton wasn’t as famous as Goodman, Dorsey, or Miller, so this felt like a real discovery. A star arranger leading a band rather than a star instrumentalist — that intrigued me. And Bea Wain’s vocal is just gorgeous. I raved about this one in this earlier post.

Side 4: Moon Love — Sammy Kaye

A wild card. Sammy Kaye sits firmly in the sweet‑band category, and sweet bands don’t get much respect now (or then), but they were an important part of the era’s musical tapestry. Same basic instrumentation as the swing bands — trumpets, trombones, saxes, rhythm — yet completely different results. That's always been fascinating to me.

The sweet bands heavily featured vocalists, such as Clyde Burke here. I liked this side then, and I still do — singing song title and all!

Side 5: All the Things You Are — Artie Shaw

This one’s the goods — wonderful song, wonderful band, wonderful singer. Artie Shaw’s clarinet is every bit as brilliant as Goodman’s, just in a different way. And Helen Forrest is one of the great canaries of the period.

Side 6: Intermezzo — Freddy Martin

Another sweet band, but Freddy Martin always stood apart. His tenor sax tone gave the reed section a rich, unmistakable sound. And his fondness for classical‑leaning material makes Intermezzo a perfect fit. I still occasionally mix up Clyde Rogers and Clyde Burke, though!

Side 7: I Got It Bad and That Ain’t Good — Duke Ellington

Here’s the seismic shift. At the time, I think had only really heard the fabulous Take the “A” Train as far as Duke Ellington records. But this record was something else entirely. Ivie Anderson’s vocal, the band’s texture, and that brief Johnny Hodges alto solo between her choruses — that solo alone sent me down a rabbit hole.

And it wasn’t lost on me that Duke was the only Black bandleader included in the set. In 1944, that was a statement.

Side 8: That Old Black Magic — Glenn Miller

A fitting closer. Glenn Miller was the band I knew best back then — LP compilations of his records were readily available. But his was my first time hearing Skip Nelson instead of Ray Eberle, which felt different, but Skip fit in well during his brief stint before Glenn entered the service.

When this album was released, Miller was in the AAF, and no one could have imagined he’d be lost later that year. It’s bittersweet in retrospect.

I look back on Smoke Rings as a key piece of my big‑band education — a curated sampler that opened doors, raised questions, and helped set me on the path I’m still walking today.

Thanks for strolling down memory lane with me.

Warehouse Whispers

Because it’s my job to wonder about such things, I’ve always been intrigued by the billing of the bandleaders on the album cover. It’s not in chronological order, but it’s not quite alphabetical either.

My take: the artists who were still under contract to Victor at the time — including Glenn Miller — are listed alphabetically first, with Larry Clinton and Benny Goodman appearing afterward. Clinton had left the music business to serve as a flight instructor for the AAF during WWII, and Goodman was recording for rival Columbia by then, so Victor didn’t have much incentive to promote them too heavily.

Look at me thinking like a 1940s record‑label exec!