Monday Side‑Session: Eleven More Strolls

Following along with Duke Ellington’s classic composition Solitude, here are eleven versions by eleven different artists from the 1930s. So let’s get strolling!

Eddie DeLange’s lyrics to Duke’s tune were clearly well‑received — most of the 1930s covers were vocal versions, and they came fast.

Mills Thrills and Red Riffs

We start off hot on the heels of Duke’s original with The Mills Blue Rhythm Band, featuring vocalist Chuck Richards:

As you might guess from the group’s name, the band was managed by the ubiquitous Irving Mills. It was led by Lucky Millinder and included top musicians like trumpeter Henry “Red” Allen, who contributes a tasty solo on this side.

Lunceford’s Lonesome Lilt

Another 1934 vocal version came from Jimmie Lunceford, with trombonist Henry Wells handling the vocal:

I say it all the time, but you really can’t go wrong with the Lunceford band covering an Ellington tune!

Goodman Goes Generic (But Great)

Moving into 1935, we get a couple of intriguing instrumental takes. First up is a budget‑label release by The Modernists — but don’t let the generic name fool you. It’s pre‑fame Benny Goodman and his band:

A really nice version from not too long before BG would become the King of Swing.

A Stone's Throw Across the Pond

Next we hop over to the U.K. for a snappy version by British bandleader Lew Stone on Regal Zonophone:

I really like the guitar work on this one — a lovely touch.

Bowlly's Bow

The most popular British bandleader of the era, Ray Noble, had already relocated to the States by 1935, fronting a great band assembled by Glenn Miller. Ray brought vocalist Al Bowlly with him, and Al sings Solitude on this radio aircheck:

Ray never made a studio recording of the tune, so we’re extra lucky to have this wonderful version.

Dorseys’ Deluxe Disc Detour

Tommy and Jimmy are on either side of canary Kay, Glenn Miller is to Jimmy's left and Ray McKinley is kneeling in front of Glenn.

Meanwhile, Tommy and Jimmy Dorsey were still co‑leading The Dorsey Brothers Orchestra when they cut their own outstanding version on a 12‑inch Decca disc with vocalist Kay Weber:

Not sure what prompted Decca to go with a 12‑inch pressing instead of the usual 10‑inch, but we’re glad they did. And perhaps Glenn Miller arranged it!

Prima Turns Up the Heat

For one more 1935 entry, we check in with Louis Prima and His New Orleans Gang, whose Brunswick recording gets the tune swinging:

Louis always sounds like he’s having a blast!

Satchmo’s Solitary Spotlight

The other singing trumpeter named Louis — Mr. Armstrong — took his turn for Decca in 1936:

Great to hear Satchmo’s solo version, recorded 25 years before his later take with Duke.

The Mills Brothers Multiply the Mood

Decca wasn’t shy about doubling (or tripling or quadrupling) up on a good thing, so in addition to Lunceford, Armstrong and the Dorseys, they also had The Mills Brothers record Solitude in 1936:

Another terrific example of the early Mills sound with John Jr. on guitar and bass vocals.

The Club Stays Hot

We head back to Europe for a 1937 instrumental version by The Quintette of the Hot Club of France on British HMV:

That’s the usual suspects — Django Reinhardt on guitar and Stéphane Grappelly on violin.

Adelaide Abroad

And we stay overseas for one more, a 1939 British Decca recording by Adelaide Hall, whom we last heard way back on Duke’s 1927 “Creole Love Call”:

Let’s spin Adelaide’s Solitude:

A nice version, and the organ accompaniment is by Fela Sowande, a pioneering Nigerian musician — a very cool detail.

There are a zillion other versions of “Solitude,” but these eleven sides from the 1930s show how the tune began its solitudinous stroll toward becoming a standard.

Sundays with Duke #18: A Solitudinous Stroll

As we remain in 1934 with Duke Ellington, we come across another classic composition that quickly became a standard - Solitude. It’s one of those Ellington pieces that seems to grow with him; every decade adds a new shade.

The Brunswick Hit and the Victor Delay

Let’s start with the original hit version, recorded for Brunswick in September 1934:

That record was very popular, but - as often happens with Duke - there’s some intrigue behind it...

The story goes that Duke wrote the tune in about 10–20 minutes when an extra song was needed for a recording session. Trumpeter Arthur Whetsol suggested the title “Solitude.” Fine… except the session in question was actually a January 1934 date for Victor, not the later Brunswick one!

Let’s spin the earlier Victor take:

Victor sat on the recording until Duke had left the label and rerecorded the tune for Brunswick. Brunswick released their remake in October, and Victor finally issued the original in November. No wonder the Brunswick version became the hit.

In any event, Duke performed and recorded “Solitude” many times over the years.

Like many Ellington instrumentals, the tune soon acquired lyrics - this time courtesy of Eddie De Lange, who would later team with Will Hudson to form the Hudson–DeLange Orchestra. And, as per usual, Irving Mills gets co‑writer credit.

Giving “Solitude” a Voice (1940)

Duke first recorded a vocal version for Columbia in 1940 with Ivie Anderson:

That’s from the same session early Blanton/Webster that yielded the vocal “Mood Indigo,” while “Sophisticated Lady” remained an instrumental.

Alone at the Piano (1941)

In 1941, back on Victor, Duke recorded this lovely solo piano version:

[Insert media file: Duke Ellington – “Solitude” (1941)]

Always great to hear solo Duke. That was from the Hot Piano album that included Fats Waller's version of Ring Dem Bells, which we heard here.

No Solitude Here: The 1945 Vocal Quartet

Next up is a 1945 Victor recording where the vocals are everywhere:

We have the trio of canaries — Joya Sherrill, Kay Davis and Maria Ellington - plus Al Hibbler. No solitude there!

That’s from the same sessions that produced the 1945 Sophisticated Lady, part of Duke’s mid‑’40s revisiting of his most popular numbers.

Expanding the Canvas (1951)

When Duke revisited Solitude in 1951 for his Columbia album Masterpieces by Ellington, the eight‑minute concert arrangement did not include a vocal. I suppose we would technically say it did not include a vocal by Yvonne!

A Visual Interlude (1952)

Back to vocals — here’s Jimmy Grissom, Al Hibbler’s replacement, singing with the band on this 1952 Snader video transcription:

Always great to see the band in action, including Harry Carney with that big baritone sax!

Jimmy (Jimmie) Grissom may or may not have been the nephew of Dan Grissom, former vocalist with the Jimmie Lunceford band. He sounds great. I get kind of a Hibbler-meets-Eckstine vibe!

Indigo Shades (1958)

Returning to instrumental mode, Duke cut this nice early‑stereo version for the Columbia album Ellington Indigos in 1958:

Old Friends and New Directions (1961–1963)

As we reach the 1960s, “Solitude” becomes a kind of calling card — a tune Duke could reshape depending on the company he kept - and it was some company!

First up, in 1961, Louis Armstrong returns with his pals Barney Bigard and Trummy Young on this track from the Roulette album The Great Reunion:

Satch had actually cut his own version of Solitude when the song was new. We'll catch up with that one soon!

From old school to modern jazz, Duke keeps up with Charles Mingus and Max Roach on this cut from the 1962 United Artists album Money Jungle:

Interesting take to be sure!

Then in 1963, tenor titan Coleman Hawkins joins the band for this excellent take on Impulse:

That was recorded during the sessions for Duke Ellington Meets Coleman Hawkins, but it wasn’t released until the next year on the various‑artists compilation The Definitive Jazz Scene (Volume 1). Thirty years later, we’re still running into unreleased‑recording intrigue!

One for the Road (1966)

Let’s spin one more version — this one from the 1966 RCA Victor album The Popular Duke Ellington:

A Lifelong Companion

We can see a definite trend: whenever Duke revisited his old classics, Solitude always made the cut. That was twenty minutes well spent in 1934!

Sundays with Duke #15: Swinging Into 1932

As we step into 1932 with Duke Ellington, we hit another landmark - It Don’t Mean a Thing (If It Ain’t Got That Swing)!

The wild part? This became the anthem of the Swing Era… before the Swing Era even existed. Duke was out here naming the decade before anyone else had even sharpened a pencil!

The Origin Story

The story goes that the famous phrase - came from Bubber Miley - you remember him, the growl‑trumpet wizard whose sound practically defined early Ellington. Bubber sadly passed away just months after the song was recorded, but his spirit is baked right into the tune. Even after he left the band, that line stuck around like a beloved inside joke. Duke and Irving Mills turned it into a song, and suddenly the band had a slogan that doubled as a life philosophy.

Let’s spin the original Brunswick recording with Ivie Anderson on the vocal:

This doesn’t sound like anything else from 1932. It feels timeless.

A couple things jump out:

• Ivie isn’t just “the singer” - she’s part of the arrangement. Her voice weaves in and out of the band like another horn.
• The soloists are on fire. Bubber's old cohort “Tricky Sam” Nanton growls his way through the trombone chorus, and Johnny Hodges takes over with his alto like he’s been waiting all day for someone to hand him the spotlight!

The song became a signature tune for Duke, and he kept revisiting it over the decades - reshaping it to fit the moment. Let’s hop through a few of those versions.

The 1940s: Swagger and Canaries

Jumping ahead to 1943, we get this terrific arrangement featuring Ray Nance and Taft Jordan sharing the vocal.

Fun detail: tenor man Al Sears gets label billing on the V‑Disc. He’s great, but honestly everyone’s cooking here - it's an embarrassment of riches!

And to see them in action, here’s a clip from an RKO Jamboree short with basically the same arrangement:

Ray Nance singing and playing violin, Taft Jordan singing and playing trumpet, Al Sears tearing it up… but the highlight for me is Tricky Sam’s trombone solo. Watching him work that plunger mute is pure joy!

Maria, Kay, Joya

Next up, a 1945 version featuring Joya Sherrill with Kay Davis and Maria Ellington joining in.

Not sure how this was originally released, but this Victor label is from Sweden.

Funny twist: Al Sears doesn’t get label credit here, but his solo is actually longer than in the 1943 version.

The trio of canaries sounds fantastic. And no - Maria Ellington was not related to Duke, but she did become related to another great jazz pianist when she later married Nat King Cole!

And did I mention I have a retro crush on Joya? Because I do!

The 1950s & 60s: The Duke, the Queen and the King

Now we get to Ella! This version comes from the 1958 Ella Fitzgerald Sings the Duke Ellington Song Book, though it was recorded in 1956 with a small group rather than the Ellington orchestra and is not technically an Ellington recording,

We’ve got Barney Kessel on guitar and Ray Nance swinging the violin, with Ella's personal pianist Paul Smith rather than Duke. We'll say it's Ellington-adjacent!

Ella makes the song seem like it was written for her!

To make up for Duke not being on that track, here’s a treat: Duke and Ella performing it together on the Ed Sullivan Show in 1965:

How fun is that? Even Ed seemed to be excited!

Next, from 1961 comes an extended instrumental version from the intriguingly titled Columbia album Piano in the Background:

It’s a fascinating reimagining - looser, roomier, and full of that early‑’60s Ellington glow.

Ray Nance handles the trumpet solo. Ray could also dance, sing, and play violin, which is why the band called him Floorshow!

Now it's 1963 and another titan enters the chat. Louis Armstrong joins Duke on this version from the Roulette album The Great Reunion:

Satch even sings the rarely‑heard verse!

The small group includes old friend Barney Bigard on clarinet and Jimmie Lunceford alum Trummy Young on trombone. The group may be small in size, but it's huge on talent!

The Final Bow: 1973

To close the loop, we go to Duke’s final studio sessions, which teamed him with the ever-delightful Teresa Brewer for the Flying Dutchman album It Don’t Mean a Thing If It Ain’t Got That Swing. Teresa is joined by tap legend Bunny Briggs on the vocal:

It’s a fun, spirited version - and it’s wonderful to hear Ray Nance still in the band, along with Harry Carney, Duke’s longest‑serving sideman, still providing that baritone bedrock 40 years later!

And that’s our swing‑through‑the‑decades tour!

From 1932 to 1973, Duke kept this tune alive, reshaping it, refreshing it, and proving - over and over - that it really does mean a thing 'cuz he's always got that swing!

Word Association Wednesday: First Mood

As we move from Mood Indigo into Word Association Wednesday, my head is spinning a little - there are so many songs with “mood” in the title! But I’ve settled on a few favorites, and we’ll visit them over the next couple of days.

The Original: Frances Langford (1935)

Today we start with the great Jimmy McHugh/Dorothy Fields standard I’m in the Mood for Love, introduced in the 1935 Paramount picture Every Night at Eight. 

Frances Langford introduced the song in the film and recorded it for Brunswick.

Very Nice! Here is a clip of her from the movie:

It’s interesting that Frances got to sing the hit song and play George Raft’s love interest, especially with the higher-billed Alice Faye in the cast. But Hollywood had its own logic: Alice would soon become a major star at Fox, while Frances carved out a long, successful career on radio. 

The Satchmo Touch: Louis Armstrong (1935)

As a contrast, here’s a contemporary cover by Louis Armstrong on Decca:

Satchmo is absolutely the whole show here - trumpet solo, vocal, and a final trumpet solo - all riding over those vaguely Lombardo-esque saxophones!

The Evolution: James Moody (1949)

If we jump ahead to 1949, we find a very different use of a saxophone: an alto in the hands of James Moody. He recorded this brilliant improvisation in Sweden, which was issued in the U.S. on the Prestige label:

This version caused such a sensation that it earned its own nickname: “Moody’s Mood for Love.” It’s a great example of how a musician can find a completely new architecture within a familiar melody.

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Which version puts you in the mood for love? Are you partial to the classic Langford vocal, Satchmo's trumpet, or the bebop brilliance of the Moody mood?

Word Association Wednesday: The Double Dare

 

For this week’s Word Association Wednesday, we’re springboarding off Sunday’s Double Check Stomp and following the word double straight into one of 1938’s most irresistible pop confections: I Double Dare You. It’s one of those songs that seemed to be everywhere at once in the late ’30s - a perfect blend of bounce, flirtation, and that lightly sassy wink that defined so much of the era’s dance music.

And if we’re talking I Double Dare You, there’s only one place to start.

Larry Clinton and Bea Wain

Let me just say it plainly: Larry Clinton is the most underrated bandleader of the Swing Era. The man had taste, polish, and a knack for arrangements that were both danceable and musically satisfying. He wasn’t flashy, he wasn’t gimmicky - he was just good, consistently and quietly good, in a way that history tends to overlook.

And then there’s Bea Wain, my favorite big‑band “canary” of them all. She had that rare combination of warmth, clarity, and rhythmic poise - never overselling, never underplaying, always landing right in the pocket. On I Double Dare You, she’s at her absolute best: bright, confident, and just teasing enough to make the title feel like a promise.

Let’s spin their Victor record:

The Clinton/Wain version is the hit for a reason. It’s crisp, buoyant, and utterly charming — the kind of record that makes you understand why 1938 dancers kept dropping nickels into jukeboxes.

Satchmo Doubles Down

For contrast, we hop over to Decca for Louis Armstrong’s take, recorded in January of 1938 — just weeks after Larry Clinton had already put his version in the can at the tail end of ’37. Clinton’s record hit the market first, but Armstrong wasn’t far behind, and the two versions ended up circulating side by side through most of 1938.

At this point in time, Decca often paired Louis with then‑current pop material to keep him in the mainstream ear. His I Double Dare You sits alongside other pop covers that he transformed into Armstrong vehicles through sheer personality.

It’s fascinating how the same tune can wear two completely different suits: Clinton’s is pressed and tailored; Armstrong’s is relaxed and lived‑in. Both work. Both swing. Both show how flexible a good pop tune could be in the hands of musicians who knew exactly what to do with it.

A curious footnote: Even though Terry Shand was currently leading a band and had just come off a stint as singer–pianist with Freddy Martin’s orchestra, neither he nor Martin seem to have ever recorded I Double Dare You!

Which One Wins?

Depends on your mood. If you want polish, charm, and the best canary in the business, Clinton and Wain take the crown. If you want personality, grit, and that unmistakable Armstrong joie de vivre, Decca’s your stop.

Either way, “I Double Dare You” proves that a simple word - double - can open the door to a whole little corner of 1938 worth revisiting.

Monday Side-Session: Memories of the Blackbird

Yesterday we listened to Duke’s elegant Black Beauty, his tribute to the legendary Florence Mills. But the "Queen of Happiness" inspired more than just one masterpiece. One of the most enduring standards in the American Songbook, Memories of You, was written by Eubie Blake and Andy Razaf for the 1930 Blackbirds revue as a direct nod to the vacancy Florence left behind.

Satchmo Gets the Vibe

Let’s start with Louis Armstrong’s definitive 1930 recording. Not only is Louis in top form here, but this track is historically significant for featuring a young Lionel Hampton. It is widely considered the very first time the vibraphone was recorded in a jazz setting!

I love how the shimmering sound of the vibes adds such a dreamy, nostalgic layer to Louis’s vocal.

The Ellingtonian Side-Trip

Lionel Hampton returned to the song in 1939 with a studio pick-up group on Victor:

It sounds great, and a glance at the label explains why: it’s basically a Duke Ellington small unit! We have Harry Carney on sax, Rex Stewart on trumpet, Lawrence Brown on trombone, Billy Taylor on bass, and Sonny Greer on drums. The only "outsider" is Clyde Hart on piano (filling in for Duke), plus Hamp on vibes. 

Hamp headed a number of these sessions with top-tier musicians for Victor while working with Benny Goodman, right before forming his own powerhouse band.

Trumpet Pyrotechnics

For a completely different vibe, we sneak back to 1938 to listen to trumpet star Sonny Dunham with Glen Gray and the Casa Loma Orchestra on Decca:

If Louis gave us the soul of the song, Sonny gives us the fireworks. His high-note trumpet work on this arrangement is legendary - a masterclass in brass virtuosity that had other trumpet players of the era shaking their heads in disbelief!

Back in the day when I was beginning my Big Band journey, this was the type of record that really caught my ear. I’ve always been drawn to trumpet stars with somewhat idiosyncratic techniques pushed to the limit!

Which do you prefer: the groundbreaking "vibes" and soul of Louis, the Ellingtonian feel of Hamp, or the high-flying pyrotechnics of Sonny?

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Note: Since it’s Black History Month, let us remember the groundbreaking Florence Mills, the Original Blackbird and the true Black Beauty!

 

Sundays with Duke #3: The "Black and Tan" Trilogy

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:. 

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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?

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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:

Here they are:

It's a fantastic fantasy!