I’d talked a bit yesterday about Freddy Martin’s big 1941 hit Piano Concerto in B‑Flat originally being the B‑side of its Bluebird single, and I’d also mentioned vocalist Eddie Stone, so let’s pick up that thread.
Eddie Brings the Energy
Here’s the intended A‑side, Why Don’t We Do This More Often?, with Eddie on the vocal:
Eddie’s bouncy, good‑natured style is all over this — he had that light, smiling delivery that made even a simple pop tune feel like a little party.
I remember reading an interview with Freddy Martin where he said the publisher and/or songwriters (Charles Newman and Allie Wrubel) weren’t thrilled that their song was paired with “some classical piano thing” on the flip. I’m sure the mountain of royalties changed their minds once the “classical piano thing” became one of the biggest hits of the year!
Duet Delight
The most popular version of Why Don’t We Do This More Often? wasn’t Martin’s, though — it was Kay Kyser’s Columbia recording, a duet by Ginny Simms and Harry Babbitt:
I really love this version. Ginny and Harry were two of my favorite band vocalists, and they always blended beautifully — warm, relaxed, and effortlessly musical.
I’ve mentioned before that by the early 1940s the Kyser band had broken free from the strict novelty formula of the 1930s. This cut is Exhibit A. No gimmicks, no winks — just clean, confident dance‑band pop with two pros at the mic.
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 Silvesterand 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!
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!
We pick up the word‑association thread and wander from Duke Ellington’s Lost in Meditation to the 1942/43 Frank Loesser–Jimmy McHugh charmer Let’s Get Lost.
The tune debuted on screen in Happy Go Lucky (Paramount, 1943), introduced by Mary Martin. Mary didn’t cut a commercial record, but a few bands managed to sneak versions onto wax just in time before the recording ban hit in 1942 for release in 1943:
Vaughn Leads the Way
Vaughn Monroe was first out of the gate, and his Victor release became the big 1943 hit:
A relaxed, conversational reading from Vaughn and the Four Lee Sisters — easygoing and elegant.
Kyser Keeps It Cozy
Kay Kyser followed with a popular version on Columbia, with Harry Babbitt joined by Julie Conway, Trudy Erwin, Jack Martin, and Max Williams:
The Kyser band was making some truly lovely sides in the early ’40s, leaving the ’30s novelty gimmicks behind.
Teddy & Peggy's Underrated Gem
The underrated Teddy Powell band turned in a Bluebird version featuring a lovely vocal by the equally underrated canary Peggy Mann:
This was the first version I ever heard — and it still might be my favorite!
Hallett Hits It
Another canary, Kay Marie Baird, is featured with Mal Hallett's orchestra on the Hit label:
The records from the Hit label can be "hit" or miss, but the ones featuring an actual name bandleader, such as Mr. Hallett, tend to be pretty good. I think Kay Marie is also good, but all I really know about her is that she was the sister of the much more prominent Eugenie Baird.
Jimmy & Bob Step Up
Jimmy Dorsey’s Decca take featuresBob Eberlyin prime form:
When you hear Bob on a side like this, it’s easy to understand why young Frank Sinatra kept an eye on the competition.
Frankie on the Airwaves
By the time “Let’s Get Lost” hit big in 1943, Frank had left Tommy Dorsey and didn’t get a commercial recording — but he did sing it on Your Hit Parade:
The song fits early‑’40s Sinatra like a glove.
No wonder Olive Oyl swooned when Frankie sang it in the 1945 Paramount Cartoon Shape Ahoy!
Dinah Drops By
Staying in radio land, here’s Dinah Shore from the Eddie Cantor show:
Pure Dinah — warm, clear, and effortless. You can understand why she was on her way to major stardom.
Shep & Meredith's Encore
We had recently heard an aircheck of Meredith Blake singing Let's Get Lost with Shep Fields' all-reed band. Let's hear it again:
Still sounds great!
Adelaide Across the Atlantic
We do have one more 1943 studio version: Adelaide Hall on British Decca:
Another lovely, poised reading.
Chet Chimes In
After 1943, the tune went quiet for a while — one of those songs that had its moment and then drifted into the fog. But in 1955, Chet Baker brought it back on Prestige:
To be honest, I’ve never been fully sold on Chet’s vocal style, but he undeniably helped turn the tune into a modern standard. I'd say he's the artist most associated with the song.
Johnny's Jaunty Detour
And because I always like to slip in a snappy instrumental, here’s pianist Johnny Coates, Jr. from his 1960 Savoy album Portrait:
Snappy indeed — a bright little spotlight on the tune’s bones.
With guides like these, Let’s Get Lost never really got lost at all.
For our final “mood” song in this series, we jump to 1942 for the lovely ballad Can’t Get Out of This Mood,written by Frank Loesser and Jimmy McHugh for the RKO picture Seven Days’ Leave. It’s one of those wartime songs that manages to be both dreamy and grounded - a little escapism wrapped in a melody that lingers longer than you expect.
The Hit: Kay Kyser and His Orchestra (1942)
Let’s spin Kay Kyser's hit version on Columbia. The vocalists are only credited by their first names on the label -a homey touch - but the lineup is Harry Babbitt supported by Julie Conway, Trudy Erwin, Jack Martin, and Max Williams.
The song was introduced in the film by former Kyser vocalist Ginny Simms, though she never made a commercial recording of it.
Fun Fact: Trudy Erwin’s real first name was actually Virginia, but after Ginny Simms left the band, Kay didn’t want another "Virginia" on the roster - so Trudy she became!
The Flipside: Moonlight Mood
If we flip that 78 over, we find out exactly what kind of mood they were talking about: Moonlight Mood:
The label just lists the Glee Club as the vocalists, but that’s definitely Harry singing lead again, probably with the same four backup singers - more or less! And a nice solo from tenor sax star Herbie Haymer to boot!
By this point, the Kyser band was far less formulaic than it had been in
the late 1930s, when every song came with a singing song title. They still
turned out plenty of fun material, but they could also deliver beautiful
ballads like these two.
And it certainly didn’t hurt to have the wonderful Harry
Babbitt still around. (Did I mention that he’s my favorite male band vocalist of
the entire big band era?)
You know, I originally thought that I would do a quick little post here,
sharing the two sides of the Kay Kyser record with “mood” in the title and calling it a day. But, that’s not the way I work, though, is it?
In the Moonlight Mood
Let’s hear another version of Moonlight Mood. It was probably inevitable that a song with both "moonlight" and "mood" in the title would get Glenn Miller's attention and, indeed, he recorded the song for Victor in 1942:
That’s Skip Nelson singing with The Modernaires, although he’s
oddly not credited on the label. Skip was Ray Eberle’s replacement with the
Miller band and I think he fits right in, but he only got to record a few songs
with the band, as the recording band kicked in, then Glenn broke up the band to
join the Army Air Force.
It’s a fleeting little chapter in the Miller story, but a lovely one.
The Mood Gets Long-er
Now we’ll swing back to Can’t Get Out of this Mood with
another 1942 recording. Here’s Johnny Long on Decca:
I know I’m partial to Johnny Long due to his first name and his
appearance with his band in the 1943 Abbott & Costello movie Hit the Ice (coincidentally also co-starring Ginny Simms), but I think he had a solid band!
The Divine Take
Moving to 1950, we find Sarah Vaughan -“The Divine One” - taking the song to a whole new level of cool on Columbia:
This is one of those performances where you can practically hear the air change temperature. She stretches the melody, reshapes the phrasing, and turns the tune into something sleek, modern, and unmistakably hers!
The Modern Touch: Samara Joy (2022)
Now to show that the spirit of Sarah Vaughan is in capable
hands and to prove that I’m not totally stuck in the 1940s, here’s
a gorgeous contemporary take on Can’t Get Out of This Mood by the
phenomenal Samara Joy. This was the lead-off track from her 2022
Verve album Linger Awhile, which swept the Grammys and helped her
take home Best New Artist.
She’s certainly keeping us in that mood!
So… who wins the Mood Crown?
Does Harry Babbitt’s mid‑century charm still hold the crown for you,
or has Samara Joy’s modern classicism - by way of Sarah Vaughan - won you over?
Either way, it’s been a joy wandering through these moods with you this week!
We’ve spent the last couple of days with some devilish
music and are even currently enduring Friday the 13th, so what better way to climb back up from down below than with a Stairway
to the Stars?
I’ve rounded up every version I could find from 1939,
the year the song was published after being adapted from Frank Signorelli and
Matty Malneck’s 1936 instrumental Park Avenue Fantasy, now with
Mitchell Parish’s lovely lyrics. You can read more about the original here.
We have an even dozen, so let’s get started!
Glenn Miller and his Orchestra (Bluebird)
For me, this is the definitive version. The Miller band was
hitting on all cylinders at this point. Ray Eberle’s vocal here sounds much
more polished than on My Reverie, recorded less than eight months earlier. This song also perhaps suits him better.
Jimmy Dorsey and his Orchestra (Decca)
Always interesting to compare Bob Eberly to his younger
brother Ray when they sang the same song. I agree with the general consensus
that Bob was the better all‑around singer. I think Bob lifted the J. Dorsey band to greater heights while Ray kind of went along for the ride as the Miller band ascended the heights, you know?
Kay Kyser and his Orchestra (Brunswick)
We catch the Kyser band at the peak of its shticky‑sweet
formula, complete with the singing song title. Harry Babbitt saves it with the
vocal. Kay was hugely popular at the time and in 1939 starred in the first of
several successful movies, RKO’s That’s Right, You’re Wrong!
Swing and Sway with Sammy Kaye (Victor)
Sammy Kaye was even more locked into the sweet‑band formula
than Kyser, also employing
the singing song title gimmick. While Sammy stayed in this lane, Kyser’s band would eventually prove to be much more versatile. Sweet bands depended on their vocalists and Jimmy Brown was an asset to the Kaye band.
Personally, I don't mind the singing song titles, but I don't care for the spoken introduction of the vocalist during the song. It takes me out of the mood. And this is coming from someone who digs gimmicks!
Ella Fitzgerald and the Chick Webb Orchestra (Decca)
Ella brings us out of the sweet‑band world with a great
take. She was fronting the late Chick Webb’s band at this point, just before
her solo career really took off.
Al Donahue and his Orchestra (Vocalion)
Al Donahue’s band wasn’t overly sweet, but not really
swinging either - a pleasant, middle‑lane outfit. Paula Kelly, though, is always awesome.
Carroll Gibbons and the Savoy Hotel Orpheans (Columbia)
A trip across the pond to England! Vocalist George Melachrino would later find great fame as a conductor, but he certainly had the pipes for this. I like this one quite a bit!
Greta Keller (Decca)
Austrian-born cabaret star Greta Keller brings a wistful, world-weary vibe that adds a touch of sophistication to the climb.
Martha Raye (Brunswick)
You’d think we’d be going from the sublime to the ridiculous
here, but Martha plays it straight. She was a talented singer, though her comic
gifts (and large mouth) were too great for Hollywood to ignore. Her then‑husband
Dave Rose provides the accompaniment.
Chick Bullock and His Levee Loungers (Vocalion)
Prolific session singer Chick Bullock fronts a studio band
here. He was a total pro and in-demand for a reason.
Kenny Baker (Victor)
Tenor star Kenny Baker sounds great! He had come to
prominence on the Jack Benny radio show but branched out into just about
every entertainment field. In 1939, he co‑starred in MGM’s At the Circus
with the Marx Brothers. Groucho took the vocal honors in that film with Lydia, the Tattooed Lady, however!
The King’s Men (Vocalion)
We wind up with The King’s Men. Fans of the Fibber McGee
and Molly radio show will instantly recognize the quartet’s trademark
blend. It’s a treat to hear a Ken Darby vocal arrangement on a ballad rather than their usual novelty fare they performed on the show.
We’ve now climbed twelve flights of the stairway, so we’re
well and truly in the stars. Which version elevates you the most?
It's Day 24 of our Christmas Countdown and being that the holiday is tomorrow, if you didn't get the chance to write to Santa, you better get him on the phone!
With that in mind, here's the cute novelty song "Hello, Mister Kringle" from 1939!
Kay Kyser recorded the song for Columbia with the whole gang chipping in:
That's a lot of fun, especially if you're familiar with the band and its vocalists!
Also of note is that this is the rare record of the era to fade out at the end, and it's a novelty effect to illustrate that Ish Kabibble's Christmas list goes on and on...
The only other record I can think of from around that time to fade out is "Cherokee" by Charlie Barnet, which was also from 1939.
In any event, Frankie Masters returns with his version of "Hello, Mister Kringle" on Vocalion:
Pretty fun!
And Vincent Lopez and Penny Parker are also back with the flipside of "(You're Just As) Cute As Christmas" on Bluebird:
I hope you enjoyed this selection of 1930s holiday and seasonal songs! Maybe you have a new favorite!
For our next collegiate song, we flip over the Ted Wallace record of "Football Freddy to find "Fraternity Blues" on the other side!
So, let's hear that Columbia recording:
That's "Ted Wallace" (Ed Kirkeby) on the vocal and Jack Purvis back on trumpet!
Another fun version of the song was cut by Hal Kemp's band on Brunswick:
The "vocal refrains" are by usual suspect Skinnay Ennis and Saxie Dowell (later noted as writer of "Three Little Fishies").
Hal Kemp comes back into the picture in a bit...
You probably noticed that an odd drawing of Kay Kyser is on the sheet music for "Fraternity Blues" and that he's listed as the composer.
Funny thing is that I don't think Kay ever recorded the song! This was very early in Kay's career and he was between recording contracts at the time.
Kay had attended UNC and took over the campus band from Hal Kemp when Hal and Skinnay Ennis, et al turned pro. When Kay graduated, he recorded a few sides for Victor that didn't go anywhere, including this ode he co-wrote to another fair co-ed, "Collegiate Fannie":
Vocalist/saxist Sully Mason was with Kay from the start and remained a popular member of the band for many years.
It's interesting to hear Sully singing "Collegiate Fannie" with a Kyser arrangement so different from what we usually think of from the Kollege of Musical Knowledge!
Although you can't tell from the sheet music above, we're continuing with the Fox feature "Pigskin Parade" from 1936!
That's the British version of the song "It's Love I'm After" with the title of the movie changed to "The Harmony Parade" for British audiences!
I get it, they don't play American Football in England (especially not in 1936), so "pigskin" means nothing to them!
Whatever the movie is called, it's most notable as the feature film debut of Judy Garland, on loan to Fox while home studio MGM tried to figure out what to do with her!
Judy's future "The Wizard of Oz" co-star Jack Haley is kinda sorta the male lead, which is retro-fun!
Judy sang "It's Love I'm After" in the movie, but didn't record it commercially.
The song did get lots of recording action, though, including by Kay Kyser and his band on Brunswick Records:
Two things mark this as an early Kyser record...
First is that Bill Stoker is one of the vocalists. Bill made a couple of records with the band, but was replaced by Harry Babbitt and pretty much forgotten as Harry enjoyed great popularity!
Slightly more subtle is that co-vocalist Ginny Simms was stilled billed as "Virginia" at the time. She also was hugely popular and people probably forgot she was ever not called Ginny!
In any event, we do need to hear (and see) young Judy Garland, so here she is singing "It's Love I'm After" from "Pigskin Parade":
The level of talent shown by 14 year old Judy is crazy!
