Western Songbirds, Part 1

Western Songbirds?

Perhaps confusingly, this series of posts do not discuss Vermilion Flycatchers, Curved-Bill Thrashers, or other birds merrily tweeting in the pine trees or cacti scattered across the American West.

Not the topic
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The topic is a long-time (and ongoing) cross-pollination within American popular culture: performers with successful music careers who go before the camera to make films; and, actors with successful film careers who go behind the microphone to make recordings.

The number of artists who did both is vast. Because this is Jeff Arnold’s West, the performers are narrowed to those who had a substantial role in at least one Western. And who, for reasons discussed below, cut an entire long-play album during the 50’s and early 60’s.

Further, it surveys female artists. The noble genre has a long (and somewhat curious) history of singing cowboys, but not so many singing cowgirls.

Some of these women sing in their Western films. To be clear, none of them sing Western songs on vinyl. The Western side of Country & Western was trending downwards during the 50’s. The songs on their albums are predominantly standards of the American songbook.

The 1950’s are highlighted in this post (and throughout this blog) because of the large number of Westerns produced for theatrical release: more than in any decade before or since. Coincidently, the decade was also a unique time for fans of recorded music. Rapid advances were made in the capture and playback of sound.

Prior to the late 40’s, recordings were constrained by physical limits of the discs on which sound was captured. This constraint naturally impacted the playback of the recorded sound: the mass market medium for playing recordings at home was a slab of shellac which spun at 78 revolutions per minute. A standard 10-inch record stored 3-4 minutes of music, while a costlier 12-inch stored up to 10 minutes.

Long-form works such as classical symphonies required multiple records. These works, as well as collections centered on a single artist or theme, were sold in a package with the records’ sleeves sandwiched between a front and back cover: a record ‘album’. The use of album as a colloquialism for packaged recordings persists to this day.

The adoption of magnetic tape in the late 40’s expanded the quantity of sound which could be captured: entire movements of long-form works could be recorded rather than 10-minute segments.

This innovation spurred the invention of the long-playing unbreakable record, the ‘LP’.  With an LP, a listener could play more music, up to 20-25 minutes, without having to flip or change the record.

In addition, the hardware for playing records became more sophisticated and affordable. Middle-class families could purchase high-fidelity systems, the ‘hi-fi’, to spin those long-playing records with their 12-inch jackets.

Due to the above factors, LPs were generally marketed to adults: classical, original cast recording of Broadway shows, well-known vocalists singing the classic American songbook, and such. Recordings of new-ish pop, blues, R&B, country, and the incipient rock ‘n’ roll were generally consigned to singles for play on radio and jukeboxes.

That dynamic changed, of course, in the early-to-mid 60’s. LPs by rock acts previously collated singles; roughly coincidental with the British Invasion, focus changed to albums and releasing individual tracks from an album as singles.

But rock’s transformation of the music industry is beyond the scope of this survey.

First on the spindle: a trio of redheads, all with records released in 1957.

Maureen O’Hara
O’Hara had a long film career, was a favorite of John Wayne, and was featured in many Westerns. But in the 50’s, she decided to try her hand at singing. To that end, she worked with a vocal coach and then recorded Love Letters from Maureen O’Hara.

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The art department of mighty RCA Victor created a mighty appealing jacket. The record within, however, is less appealing. Bob Thompson wrote decent arrangements and O’Hara certainly hits the notes. But her voice is heavy and her vocals seem mannered, more suited for art songs than American popular songs. Jeff Arnold previously dismissed her singing over the credits of The Deadly Companions (“She warbles… in her second-class operetta voice…”) The actress deserves more credit than given by Jeff, but this record is a lesser offering.

O’Hara did cut an album of Irish songs later. She presumably was more comfortable with that genre, but I’ve yet to hear the recording.

Rhonda Fleming
One of Fleming’s earliest roles was in Abilene Town with Randolph Scott. Her best-known Western performance is in The Gunfight at the OK Corral, but she was a Western mainstay throughout the 50’s. Although first an actor, she did sing as well: one of her first major roles was in A Connecticut Yankee in King Arthur’s Court, in which she sang both solo and in a duet with no less than Bing Crosby. In the late 50’s, she developed a nightclub act and appeared in Las Vegas and Palm Springs.

Curiously, she only recorded one solo album, for Columbia.

The jacket art befits the ‘Queen of Technicolor’, highlighting her red hair and green eyes to striking effect. It is classy pop, combining then-current songs with those from the great American songbook, and performed over arrangements by the estimable Frank Comstock.

His contribution warrants a brief discussion of the importance of the musical backings on a vocal album. When performed on stage or screen, songs are an aural and visual experience; the backing music, and the arrangement of that music, can be less prominent. On record, a purely aural experience, the music should support song and singer but the arrangement of the music can and should enrich one’s listening using dynamics, tone colors from solo or combined instruments, interaction within the orchestra or backing band, and so forth.

Nelson Riddle was the pinnacle of the arranger’s art, followed closely by Billy May and Gordon Jenkins (all three, not so coincidently, had long associations with Frank Sinatra). Frank Comstock was not quite at the level of these musicians, but he was good, and his arrangements on this record are consistently interesting.

Fleming has a wide vibrato in places, and certain words and phrases give her trouble (I’m surprised a retake wasn’t called after her somewhat awkward handling of the final lyric in Baby, Baby All the Time); but her extroverted vocals are solid overall. And huge props to Fleming and Comstock for the chutzpah to include an up-tempo version of I’ve Got You Under My Skin: Sinatra and Riddle cut the definitive version a year before.

A worthy effort. The lack of a follow-up is surprising.

Tina Louise
Unlike O’Hara and Fleming, Tina Louise studied singing (as well as acting) before her break in movies. She also cut her one-and-only vocal album early in her career. At the time, she had several television and theater credits; the largest was fifth billing in Li’l Abner, a moderately successful Broadway musical. This record was released well before her roles in two Westerns, Day of the Outlaw (a JAW favorite) and The Hangman.

It was initially issued by Concert Hall records, a smaller company which was mostly known for releasing classical and opera recordings by lesser-known orchestras, often German, and occasionally sourced from radio broadcasts. But they did dabble in recording pop and jazz.

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But the recording was somehow acquired by Urania Records, another small outfit. Urania issued the record twice, in ‘58 and ‘59, with the same cover image except for its name and logo.

Surprisingly, one of the Urania releases is in stereo! Stereo recording was uncommon when Louise was originally in the studio; it was probably even more rare for smaller companies which presumably had budget constraints.

Even more surprising are Louise’s accompanists on the date. Jim Timmens is named as the arranger, but the orchestra includes four jazz musicians of note: Hilton Jefferson on alto sax, Buddy Weed on piano, Tyree Glenn on trombone, and Coleman Hawkins on tenor sax.

Coleman Hawkins, 1960
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Jefferson, Weed, and Glenn were all distinguished musicians with lengthy careers. Hawkins, however, was a titan of improvised music; his facility with the instrument is credited with bringing the tenor saxophone to jazz prominence. He also adapted to the times, subtly updating his playing as the music evolved from swing to bebop, but always maintaining his burly tone.

Booking Hawk and his jazz cohorts as her backing band seems like quite a coup for the young singer/actress. But Hawkins was very prolific in the studio at this stage of his career and did accompany several other, albeit more established, vocalists on recordings. All four musicians have the opportunity to play obbligatos and solos over the course of the album, adding to the slow-burning sultriness of Louise’s interpretations.

But that’s not all! Even before Time for Tina hit the stores, Concert Hall released another record featuring young Miss Louise. But she doesn’t sing a note.

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While Louise (obviously) appears on the jacket, and penned a portion of the liner notes, the actual music is a collection of classical “music she herself enjoys most in her most romantic moods…. arranged in the shimmering style that brings new excitement to old Favorites of Continent.”

Well then.

Having not heard the recording, I cannot comment on its ‘Portrait in Hi-Fi’.

Leaving aside Miss Louise’s continued cachet in American pop culture, the combination of singer, accompanists, and music makes Time for Tina an engaging late night or date night listen.

Jane Russell
Russell first achieved notoriety through one of Jeff Arnold’s bête noire films, The Outlaw. But, her filmography includes other, and considerably better, Westerns. Like Fleming in Alias Jesse James, she made a Western comedy, The Paleface, with Bob Hope; the picture was successful enough to warrant a follow-up, Son of Paleface. But the connection to Hope would not be the only link between the two actresses.

In spite of Howard Hughes’ crass attempts to focus all attention on her bosom, and Jeff’s general disdain, Russell had talent well beyond her measurements: she was a decent enough actress with a wry comic touch. And she could sing! Russell had a strong voice and interpretive talent. In the late 40’s, Columbia  released a 4-record album of 78’s; in 1958, MGM Records released her only solo LP.

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Interestingly, she also performed and recorded in a gospel quartet. All these years later, the influence and popularity of gospel quartets in the US is difficult to imagine. The Blackwood Brothers, for example, filled auditoriums, sold piles of records, and greatly impressed a young Elvis Presley.

In Jane Russell’s quartet, Beryl Davis and Connie Haines (who sang with the Harry James and Tommy Dorsey bands) were the mainstays. Della Russell completed the quartet in the early 50’s.

This version of the quartet cut sides which were released on a Coral EP.

D. Russell then left, but J. Russell, Haines, and Davis remained and recorded as a trio for Capitol.

Later, the group again became a quartet with the addition of… Rhonda Fleming. The reconstituted quartet recorded additional tracks for Coral.

Ultimately, all of the quartet recordings were collated onto one LP using the ‘The Four Girls’ as the group’s name.

Fleming, Russell, Haines, Davis
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Despite being a discographical mishmash, with some songs featuring Della Russell, others featuring Fleming, this album is a polished, enjoyable, and toe-tapping listen. Some buyers, however, possibly experienced some level of remorse; at barely 19 minutes, Make a Joyful Noise is an LP in name only.

Dinah Shore
Shore began her long career as a singer, one of the few of the era without a strong tie to the big bands. She had multiple pop hits for RCA and Columbia in the 40’s and 50’s, pleasant, innocuous, and highlighting the singer’s natural warmth.

On-screen, Dinah was more of a television personality than movie star; she only appeared on the big screen a few times. But, critically, one of her appearances was in a Randolph Scott picture, Belle of the Yukon (one of the few Scott movies which Jeff Arnold did not enjoy). That role, plus her marriage to oater icon George Montgomery, earns her a place in this post.

Early albums were of the bundled 78 variety. But as the market for LPs expanded, so did Shore’s catalog: albums from Columbia were collections of singles, while RCA’s offerings alternated between collated singles and tracks recorded specifically for LP. All are pleasant enough.

Then Shore signed with Capitol, the pinnacle of pop music for adults in the 50’s and early 60’s. She proceeded to record four LPs, each in a different musical style, which are easily the best of her career and deserve to be better known.

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Wasting no time, Capitol paired Shore with crack arranger Riddle and a conventional strings ‘n’ swing orchestra; Dinah, Yes Indeed was released in 1959. In a wink to Dinah’s earlier efforts, Riddle includes a backing chorus on several songs. Even though such choruses usually stop swing in its tracks, Riddle and Shore keep the music moving. Another sly touch is the inclusion of Sentimental Journey, which is, of course, Doris Day’s signature song.

One track is a medley of four songs; Yes Indeed! interpolates another. Shore negotiates the lyrical twists and turns with aplomb.

On some songs, Dinah stretches her voice to its absolute limit. Throughout the record, she plays with the beat. Overall, the singer seems to have a fine old time.

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For her second Capitol release of 1959, Somebody Loves Me, Shore teamed with André Previn. The young German was something of a prodigy in the 50’s, writing music for film soundtracks and recording both jazz and classical chamber albums. Later, he became a prolific orchestral conductor in concert halls and on LPs. (With five marriages and ten children, he was prolific in other ways as well.)  Previn wrote plush string and woodwind orchestrations to support a collection of classy songs, including another medley.

Shore’s honeyed voice nestles into the arrangements; she sings beautifully. The title song, the last track on the album and also the best, anticipates the singer’s subsequent encounter with Previn, as the lush strings are cut by his moody late night piano.

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Shore next collaborated with bandleader Red Norvo on Dinah Sings Some Blues with Red, also released in 1960. The goateed musician was born in Beardstown, Illinois, a river town known as much for its watermelon and cantaloupe as Norvo; he was another jazz artist who gracefully made the transition from swing to bop. Besides playing marimba, vibes, and xylophone, Norvo knew a bit about working with vocalists. He was married to vocalist Mildred Bailey and co-led a successful swing band with her; in the late 50’s, Norvo was bandleader during a Sinatra tour of Australia.

Norvo’s regular quintet plays behind Shore, augmented with a trumpet on some songs, and a muted trumpet choir on others. Dinah fits easily into the small jazz band, even wordlessly vocalizing (not quite scatting) at one point.

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Previn and Shore then re-teamed in 1961. The result, titled Dinah Sings, Previn Plays, is an intimate record, delivering “songs in a mid-night mood” as promised by the jacket. Previn reduced his forces to only a trio and played the piano himself. He brought no arrangements to the sessions; he and Dinah worked out the songs in the studio. With no massed strings or brass or reeds providing cover, it is the most ambitious recording of Dinah Shore’s career. The piano and rhythm section swing lightly behind her assured vocals. A triumph.

These records were not, of course, the end of Shore’s career on record. She cut two more records for Capitol, one in which the Tennessee-born singer takes on songs associated with the American South, the other a stereo re-recording of old hits. She then moved to Sinatra’s Reprise label, which was Fort Apache for adult-oriented vocalists resisting rock music’s takeover of the record business; that signing resulted in one album. Thereafter, she only occasionally went into the recording studio.

A note on availability: most of the above are available on streaming services, although premium versions are required to hear full albums in their entirety. Some songs and complete albums are also available on Youtube.

For those fellow travelers who favor physical media, one can certainly hunt at shops and e-sites specializing in used records and compact discs. The industrious Japanese reissued all of the records mentioned above on CD except the Fleming and gospel albums, albeit in expensive limited editions.

Assuming this series does not incite a revolt among JAW readers, it will feature Abbe Lane, Julie London, Lizabeth Scott, and other Western cross-pollinators. Alas, Dorothy Malone never cut a record.

 

Photo credits
1. Dan Weisz, wildlife.foothillsclusters.com
2. author’s collection
3. who2.com
4. Burt Goldblatt/CTSIMAGES
5. stuffnobodycaresabout.com
6. discogs.com

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