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!

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.

Threaded Thursday: Waltzing and Swinging with Cinderella

Following yesterday’s tune, When a Prince of a Fella Meets a Cinderella, we keep the thread going with what might be the fella’s reply — the charming 1938 waltz Cinderella (Stay in My Arms).

British Beginnings

The song comes from British songwriters Jimmy Kennedy and Michael Carr, and it first appeared on record that same year courtesy of Joe Loss on Regal Zonophone, with the velvet‑voiced Chick Henderson:

Very lovely!

Ambrose Takes a Turn with Vera

Another major British bandleader, Ambrose, also took a shine to the tune in 1938. His Decca version features longtime star vocalist Vera Lynn:

It’s interesting that the lyrics weren’t gender‑flipped for Vera — perhaps the rewrite would have felt too clunky on the tongue.

Vera's Verse

Even more interesting: Vera recorded another version, in 1939, again for Decca, this time backed by The Six Debutantes:

This one includes the middle verse, which clarifies that Vera is quoting the fella’s plea to Cinderella rather than addressing Cinderella herself. A neat little narrative pivot tucked inside a pop waltz.

Glenn and Ray Crash the Ball

By 1939 the tune had crossed the Atlantic, and American bands began picking it up. Glenn Miller recorded it for Bluebird with Ray Eberle:

The Miller band was really hitting its stride here — and Glenn even steps forward with a pair of warm, confident trombone solos.

Jack Joins the Party

Of course, Glenn’s trombone was no match for the great Jack Teagarden, who both plays and sings his own version for Brunswick:

By this point the song has been fully de‑waltzed, but what a joyful, easygoing record it becomes in Jack’s hands.

Paula Brings the Pep

We return to a female vocalist with this Vocalion side by Al Donahue featuring Paula Kelly:

Paula really swings it — light on her feet, but with a little kick.

Carmen Cuts In

And for variety, here’s one more version that restores the tune to its waltz roots: Guy Lombardo and His Royal Canadians, with brother Carmen Lombardo on the vocal, for Decca:

It says something about a song when both Jack Teagarden and Carmen Lombardo can sing it as though it were tailor‑made for them!

Final Footnote: A Dance Card Full of Charmers

Cinderella has met a lot of fellas — and a few gals — along the way. Which version waltzes (or swings) its way into your heart?

Word Association Wednesday: A Modern Fairy Tale

To spin off Boy Meets Horn for this week’s Word Association, my wheels were turning for another tune with meets in the title — ideally something from around 1938. The obvious choice (to me, anyway) was the pop song When a Prince of a Fella Meets a Cinderella, subtitled A Modern Fairy Tale.

The Sisters Shine

The most popular version was by The Andrews Sisters on Decca:

This was early in the Andrews Sisters’ career, but their sound was already remarkably well‑formed — tight harmonies, crisp swing, and Patty unmistakably out front.

Bunny at the Ball

The tune also found its way to Bunny Berigan, who recorded his version for Victor with vocalist Jayne Dover:

No doubt that Bunny was assigned that song to record and wouldn't have picked it himself, but the band does a good job and Bunny’s trumpet is always great.

We had previously heard Jayne with Will Hudson, and she sang with a few other bands. An underrated canary!

Kay in the Court

Perhaps a more likely candidate to record this “Modern Fairy Tale” was Kay Kyser, who cut it for Brunswick with Harry Babbit:

The band was still leaning into the sweet‑band formula at this point, but their records from this era are consistently pleasant, and Harry's warm, easy delivery is a highlight.

Busse’s Ballroom Shuffle

We have one more record, this one by Henry Busse for Decca with vocalist Skip Morr:

I like the shuffle rhythm and always enjoy Henry’s muted trumpet.

Gracie's Glass Slipper

The first version of the song that I ever heard was not from a record, but from a radio show — The George Burns and Gracie Allen Show. Gracie sang the tune on the show from October 7, 1938:

At that time, the show was more of a variety format than the later sitcom style. George and Gracie weren’t portrayed as married yet, and Gracie was written as a bit man‑crazy. She often got a song, and her take on Prince of a Fella is pure Gracie: sweet, slightly off‑kilter, and completely endearing!

Oh, and I wasn't actually around in 1938 — I had an LP that featured a recording of that show!

Avery’s Animated Afterparty

1938 also brought us a delightful entry from Warner Bros.’ Merrie Melodies series: Cinderella Meets Fella, directed by Tex Avery. It’s full of Tex’s trademark wackiness and features an embryonic version of Elmer Fudd — still in full Egghead mode!

Cinderella and her fella were having quite a year in 1938 — on records, on the radio, and even in the cartoons. A modern fairy tale indeed!

Sundays with Duke #27 - Rex Meets Horn

We finish Duke Ellington’s impressive run of 1938 recordings with one more classic - Boy Meets Horn.

Two from Duke and Rex

The piece was written by Duke in collaboration with cornetist Rex Stewart specifically to show off Rex’s half‑valve technique. Duke supposedly enjoyed the challenge of building a melody around Rex’s six best notes - and somehow turning that limitation into a feature.

Let’s give the Brunswick record a spin:

That’s just a lot of fun. Rex is practically winking at us with his cornet, but the record never tips into pure novelty. It’s clever, but it swings!

Interestingly, the band had recorded an earlier version a few months before, in September 1938, under the odd title Twits and Twerps:

That one does lean more toward novelty. I kind of like it, but the finalized version holds up better - and Boy Meets Horn is an awesome title!

A Contemporary Cover

For a fascinating early cover of the tune, jump ahead to 1940 for this Columbia version by Benny Goodman, featuring trumpeter Chris Griffin:

Chris really shows his prowess here. He was an excellent all‑around musician - a real pro - but he’s mostly remembered as something of a footnote, the “other” guy in Benny’s powerhouse 1930s trumpet section alongside Harry James and Ziggy Elman. How could you attract any attention with two of the most extroverted, charismatic trumpet stars of the entire era playing next to you?

Another curiosity: this is one of the relatively few Benny Goodman records without a clarinet solo by BG. The only other one that comes immediately to mind is Ziggy’s And the Angels Sing. There must be a couple more. Anyone know one?

This was actually the first version of Boy Meets Horn that I was familiar with, as it was the flipside of the 78 of BG's theme song Let's Dance and I've had that 78 forever!

Rex Takes It With Him

As with other showcase numbers Duke wrote for his sidemen - like Echoes of Harlem” for Cootie Williams - the band played Boy Meets Horn frequently on the radio and at personal appearances. But Duke never recorded it again in the studio. Everything had already been said.

And just as Cootie kept Echoes of Harlem in his book after leaving the band, Rex continued to feature “Boy Meets Horn” as a signature piece. He recorded it several times with his own groups.

Here’s a fun version from 1946 on the new Mercury label:

Still sounds great!

Hi‑Fi Nostalgia Arrives

Because the tune was so closely associated with Rex, there don’t seem to have been many versions by other artists until the late 1950s, when hi‑fi remakes of big‑band favorites became a trend.

Case in point: this 1957 version by Tutti Camarata, from his Disneyland album Tutti’s Trumpets, featuring Shorty Sherock:

Tutti and Shorty had worked together in the Jimmy Dorsey band in the 1930s, and by 1957 both were in high demand - Tutti as arranger/conductor, Shorty as a top studio trumpeter.

One more tribute came along in 1962, when Jonah Jones and his trio teamed with Glen Gray and the Casa Loma Orchestra for this Capitol track:

Lots of fun when the boys meet the horns!

In the end, Boy Meets Horn stands as one of those perfect Ellington moments where a private joke, a technical challenge, and a musician’s personality all fuse into something timeless. What began as Duke teasing a melody out of Rex Stewart’s favorite six notes became a signature piece, a calling card and a small masterpiece of charm and invention!

Sundays with Duke #26: Prelude to a Standard

Still in 1938 with Duke Ellington, we arrive at another classic - Prelude to a Kiss. It didn't catch on right away, however, and it had a long, yes, prelude before becoming a standard!

An Instrumental Kiss

Like many of Duke’s songs, this one was first recorded as an instrumental before acquiring lyrics.

Here’s the original Brunswick recording from August 1938:

Very lovely record which was reasonably popular at the time.

Johnny and Mary One More Time

Following the trend of the last few songs we’ve covered, Johnny Hodges recorded it a couple of weeks later with a small unit drawn from the main band. And since the tune now had lyrics, vocalist Mary McHugh was back:

This was the fourth and final session to feature Mary with Johnny. As I’ve mentioned before, I don’t know anything else about her - it’s as if she appeared just long enough to record these sides and then vanished. But I’ll keep digging!

This version was also popular upon its original release.

The lyrics are credited to Irving Mills and Irving Gordon, the same pair who appeared on the labels for “Pyramid,” which didn’t seem to have a vocal version. Gordon is most famous for later writing the Nat King Cole hit Unforgettable, and I remember him making the rounds when Natalie Cole successfully revived the song in the 1990s.

A Sleeper Hit Waiting for Its Moment

As with some of the other songs from this period, Prelude to a Kiss didn’t get much traction at the time. But unlike those others, it eventually made a spectacular comeback and became something of a standard.

It hadn’t been played much up to that point, but Duke selected it for his 1945 Victor sessions revisiting several of his most popular songs:

It kind of sounds like it had been waiting for Ray Nance’s violin all this time!

Prelude Finds Its Second Life

Duke still didn’t feature the song much for the rest of the 1940s, but he began including it in concerts in the early 1950s and recorded it a few more times.

He cut a version for his 1954 Capitol album The Duke Plays Ellington, a trio date with bassist Wendell Marshall and drummer Butch Ballard:

Next came this 1956 recording that wasn’t issued until 1987:

I don’t know the circumstances of this session or why it remained unreleased for so long, but Johnny Hodges’ alto is fabulous as always.

A Standard at Last

The next version is from Duke’s 1958 Columbia album Ellington Indigos:

The early stereo sounds great on this extended arrangement, with another terrific solo from Johnny.

By this time, Prelude to a Kiss had become a popular standard, and Duke continued to feature it from that point on.

But it was quite a long prelude!

Sundays with Duke #25: Six Steps to the Pyramid

As we hang around 1938 with Duke Ellington, we come across another collaboration between Duke and his valve trombonist Juan Tizol - Pyramid.

It never became nearly as popular as Juan’s earlier composition Caravan, but it’s a moody, atmospheric piece, and the recordings it inspired make for a wonderfully twisty little journey.

Step 1: Tom-Toms and Hand Drums

Duke and the band first recorded “Pyramid” for Brunswick in June 1938:

The haunting pulse comes from Sonny Greer on tom‑toms and Duke playing a hand drum fashioned from a tambourine. There’s no piano from Duke on this one, and the instrumentation is unusual in another way: Harry Carney’s baritone sax is the only saxophone on the record!

It’s a sparse, hypnotic sound world, with Juan's valve trombone leading the way.

Step 2: Johnny's Small‑Group Detour

Just a couple of weeks later, at a Johnny Hodges small‑band session for Vocalion - the same date that produced Lost in Meditation - Pyramid took on a completely different character, with Duke back at the piano and Lawrence Brown on trombone rather than Juan Tizol:

Comparing the small‑unit versions with the “official” band takes is always a treat, and this one is no exception.

A Brief Pause for Label Intrigue

As usual, the songwriting credits give us something to chew on...

The Brunswick label lists Irving Mills as co‑writer with Duke and Juan - no surprise there.

But the Vocalion label lists Irving Gordon instead of Mills. Not sure what the story is, but the implication is that the tune has lyrics. If a vocal version was ever recorded, I haven’t come across it.

Step 3: Artie Shaw Picks It Up

Pyramid didn’t seem to get much traction at the time, but it resurfaced in late 1940 when Artie Shaw recorded it for Victor:

Nick Fatool - maybe the most underrated drummer of the era - drives the beat, with strong solos from Artie on clarinet and Billy Butterfield on trumpet. The larger Shaw band with strings gives it a bit of a Frenesi-era vibe to me.

What’s unusual is that this might be the only Ellington‑associated number Artie recorded back in the day. He tended to favor swing arrangements of show tunes and standards rather than jazz pieces by other composers. He did have an arrangement of Pyramid with his earlier band, but never made a studio recording of it.

The little sting to end this record reminds me of the sound of Artie’s Gramercy Five.

The Gramercy Six

Which brings us to the next version - a snappy stereo take by what seems to be an unofficial Artie Shaw spin‑off/tribute group, The Gramercy Six, recorded for Edison International in 1959:

Nick Fatool returns on drums, joined by bassist Jud Denaut and guitarist Al Hendrickson, both veterans of Shaw’s 1940 version, which is pretty cool! Rounding out the sextet are Shorty Sherock on trumpet, Al Sherman on harpsichord, and Eddie Rosa on clarinet.

It’s a lively, modernized spin.

Duke Returns to the Pyramid

Duke himself revisited “Pyramid” in 1962 for his Reprise album Afro‑Bossa:

That's a terrific version and it seems to have rekindled Duke’s interest in he tune, as he began performing it more frequently in concerts afterward.

Johnny Steps into the ’60s

Johnny Hodges picked the tune up again in the 1960s, teaming with with organist Wild Bill Davis for this version on the 1966 Verve album Blue Pyramid:

That one definitely sounds like 1966 - in the best way!

From tom‑toms to harpsichords, the six steps through the life of Pyramid each brings something distinctive to the table.

Do you have a favorite - or does it depend on the mood of the day?

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?