St. James Infirmary for Solo Accordion

Photo by Gerson Matos

I recently wrote about a gypsy version of SJI, featuring Michael Ward-Bergeman on accordion. This time, there's no gypsy band. Just MWB.

Okay. St. James Infirmary. For solo accordion.

Here, from Toronto's Ideacity concert hall, which has as its motto "The Smartest People - The Biggest Ideas . . . a constellation of top talent in the world," is accordion wunderkind Michael Ward-Bergeman performing "St. James Infirmary."

Enjoy.
ps You will get a fuller video view  by going directly to the YouTube site.

MP3 Monologue 10 - The Hokum Boys 1929

"St. James Infirmary" was first recorded in February 1927, as "Gambler's Blues," by Fess Williams And His Royal Flush Orchestra. The composer credit on the record's label went to Carl Moore and Phil Baxter. It was next recorded as "Gambling Blues" in January, 1928 by the, uhm, hillbilly Kentuckian Buell Kazee. There was no composer credit. The third recording occurred in December 1928. This time it was titled "St. James Infirmary," the recording artist was Louis Armstrong and His Savoy Ballroom Five, and the composer credit went to Don Redman. Until, that is, the second pressing of the record; that's when Joe Primrose made his first appearance on a record label. The fourth and fifth recordings, October 1929, were by The Hokum Boys. The songs were called "Gambler's Blues 'St. James Infirmary Blues'" and "Gambler's Blues No. 2." There was no composer credit. There were at least 23 recordings of "St. James Infirmary" released in North America up to the end of 1930, and most of these bore the composer name "Joe Primrose." Mattie Hite attributed her version to "Nobody," meaning it was in the public domain - but that was challenged, and Primrose appeared on later pressings of Hite's version, which was really a combination of the two songs Carl Sandburg documented as "Those Gambler's Blues" in his book American Songbag.

The Hokum Boys, though. These were quite different songs. I sometimes think of them as the last vestiges of a folk process that, before the copyright took firm hold, was still evolving the song. The one you will hear below, "Gambler's Blues 'St. James Infirmary Blues,'" initially follows the commonly known lyric, and then veers off into strange territory. The musicianship is, I think, extraordinary, and the song is a real pleasure. The second version, "Gambler's Blues No. 2" is odder, and well worth a listen - these songs can be found by clicking here.

To listen to this monologue (less than two minutes), with music (more than two minutes), click here: The Hokum Boys, Gamblers Blues 1929 MP3


Many thanks to Document Records for keeping all these songs available and alive.

St. James Infirmary - the gypsy version!! MP3

"GIG 365" CD cover by Kate Mayfield

Okay. After that last entry we're back on the SJI track. This one is important.

When I was a young lad, a very young lad, in Belfast, I remember looking out the window of a double-decker bus at the people walking on the sidewalk, and being astonished at the notion that every single one of those people were as aware of their own existence as I was of mine - and yet, none of us could sense or deeply feel each others' realities. This is one of the  memories that has haunted me through my life

Now, here we are in 2013, fifty-five years later. Michael Ward-Bergeman has recorded a selection of songs he performed during a year in which he pledged (to himself) to perform publicly at least once every day. I sit at my desk with headphones on and I feel as if I am listening to those people on the Belfast sidewalk.

In 2011 master accordionist Michael Ward-Bergeman undertook a "GIG 365," in which he vowed to play at least one gig a day for 365 days. He performed throughout North America, in Europe, and in Venezuela, often on the streets. He recorded many of these moments, including conversations with spectators; some of these are available on his blog GIG 365.

Michael has just released a CD of a few of these performances (and conversations). I can say that the first question one might ask oneself after listening is, "What a pity he did not include more selections!" Because this CD is a marvel. AND, to make it even better, it contains a six minute interpretation of "St. James Infirmary," recorded with a gypsy band in Bucharest (cimbalom, violin, clarinet, saxophone, bass, and a second accordion). More about that a little later.

He's a difficult fellow to keep track of, is Michael Ward-Bergeman. While a charter member of the roots music trio Groanbox, he also  performs with symphony orchestras, writes classical compositions, has been contracted to write a piece for the Silk Road Ensemble, and performs wherever the opportunity arises, from the back streets of New Orleans to the concert halls of America and Europe. He wields an accordion like Jimi Hendrix wielded his guitar, like Wilhelm Kempff played his piano. And – as the CD "GIG 365" will attest – he is able to adapt to just about any music genre and make it sound as if he was born to play it. One example from this CD is the song "Mississippi," which he wrote (and sings), but which could belong to a post-Stephen-Foster world of American roots music. This is one song on the album that features the percussionist Jamie Haddad, and Haddad's performances are as much a revelation as are those of Ward-Bergeman's accordion. That is, Ward-Bergeman has teamed up with some remarkable musicians on his travels, and you can hear the sharp focus of their collaborations. This is magical stuff.

But this site's primary concern is "St. James Infirmary," so let me focus my attention there.

Michael wrote to me that "when I started doing 'St. James' I always felt there was a gypsy music connection both spirit and music wise." In earlier postings I have included YouTube videos of the Groanbox trio performing "St. James Infirmary" as well as a song that Ward-Bergeman wrote, based upon SJI, called "Darling Lou." Both are dazzling performances.

And now, on this GIG 365 undertaking, Ward-Bergeman has added another dimension to a song that continues to offer itself to us in surprising ways

I listen to this, and I am back on that Belfast bus, looking out at the people strolling on the sidewalks as we drive past. This time, though, it is different. I can hear them, I can almost touch them, almost understand them. The music on this CD communicates such a sense of collaboration, such a sense of us all that it starts to dissolve the boundaries that separate us. One cannot help but wonder at the mystery of our lives.

Here, then, is a real treat. At 6:38 and 256 kbps (anything of a lower resolution would be sacrilege) is Michael Ward-Bergeman and friends with "St. James Infirmary" MP3 - the gypsy version.

The CD can be purchased here:
amazon.ca 
amazon.com
emusic.com
As well as on iTunes, and elsewhere.

Look Out Mama - MP3 (Happy New Year)

Illustration by Pam Woodland

Here is an entry entirely divorced from the usual theme of this blog. But I write this in the spirit of the New Year.

Pam and I, since October 2010, live in a fairly remote area of southwest Saskatchewan. The village we live in has a population of under a hundred people. The nearest population centre, of 15,000, is a ninety minute drive away, and the nearest large book store or movie theatre is a four hour drive from here. We have had snow since late October, and the morning temperature this December averages about -20C (or about -5F).

What does one do in these circumstances? Among other things, I belong to a musical trio that practices weekly for about four hours. Our lead guitarist is the noted nature photographer James Page, and our multi-instrumentalist (rhythm guitar, ukelele, accordion, tin whistle, etc.) is the painter Colleen Watson. I play hand percussion (African drum, bongos, sticks, rattles, and so on).

The name of our trio was derived from the opening lines of Neil Young's song "Powderfinger." So, we are known as "Look Out Mama." I have been writing quite a few songs, too, of which we now include three in our regular practices. What I want to do here is include one of those songs.

I wanted, early this summer, to write something that was based both upon our trio's name, and upon  the history of the area we live in. So, the song "Look Out Mama" was born. While I wrote the lyrics and the melody, Page helped me work out the musical structure, and of course "Look Out Mama," the group, worked out an arrangement.  The only similarity with SJI is the fact that the song has no chorus. The link here is to a recent practice, pretty darned crude, with James Page on electric guitar, Colleen Watson on rhythm guitar, and me on percussion and lead vocal. And so, as the clock turns over from 2012 to 2013,  I present it to you with no further ado, "Look Out Mama" by Look Out Mama. Happy New Year.

Look out mama
The sun is sinking low
Look out mama
The sun is sinking low
I can hear Blackfoot calling
And pounding hooves of buffalo

Look out mama

The water is rising fast
Look out mama
You know the water is rising fast
Wolves are in the river
Don't know if they're gonna last

Look out mama

The wind is blowin' strong
Look out mama
The wind is blowin' strong
Hawks circlin' up above
I fear we done something wrong

Look out mama
The moon is high in the sky
Look out mama
The moon is high up in the sky
Y'can see those tepee circles
Remnants from a long lost time

Look out mama
Coyotes are on the prowl
Look out mama
Coyotes are on the prowl
When that evenin' sun goes down
Whoa whoa listen to them howl

Carl Moore as The Squeakin' Deacon - photograph

Moore as radio personality "The Squeakin' Deacon"

Back in the mid nineteen-twenties Carl Moore, along with Phil Baxter, claimed authorship of "Gambler's Blues" (aka "St. James Infirmary"). You can read more about each of those fascinating individuals elsewhere on this blog (and, of course, in the book).

I recently received a message from Cecil Warren, who noticed that once upon a time I started to create a family tree for Carl, at Ancestry.com. Moore was one of the central characters in I Went Down to St. James Infirmary, and I closely researched his early years.

When he was a young lad ("in the 1947/1948 time period when my parents took me to his radio program"), Mr. Warren once sat on Moore's knee, and received the photograph you see here. "Too bad it got torn," Warren wrote, "probably a result of a fight between my sister and I over who got to hold it while we listened to his radio show. It is still a piece of history that has survived these 60 plus years."

By this time, Moore had given up leading a dance orchestra (many dance orchestras dissolved due to supply and personnel shortages during World War Two), and had become the country radio personality, "The Squeakin' Deacon." The Deacon was living in California at this time, not far from Hollywood. In fact, he had a (very) minor film career, including an uncredited appearance as the Toastmaster in the Rock Hudson/Elizabeth Taylor/James Dean movie Giant. He was once considered for the title role in the Will Rogers film biography, but Rogers' son eventually played that part. Moore would have been a natural, with his down-home humor and country hick persona.

Mr Warren added, in response to my writing, that  "I am glad that his role in music history is being preserved." Thank you, Cecil

ps In her late nineties, Moore's wife Marjorie is very much alive and energetic - she will be thrilled to see that you remember Carl Moore, The Squeakin' Deacon.

. . . So God Took Caruso Away - sheet music

Cover of  the 1921 sheet music from Jack Mills Inc.

I am posting this as a kind of Christmas gift to you, readers of this blog. This post will contain a bit of history, related to (what else?) "St. James Infirmary." And - with a nod to all those who come here for my occasional postings of sheet music - there will also be some, well, sheet music.

I suspect that most readers of this blog know that Irving Mills was intimately entangled with the history of the song "St. James Infirmary" - as the fictional "composer" of the song (Joe Primrose), as the manager of various performers who recorded the song, as the impresario who publicized the song, and as the vice-president of the company that published the sheet music.

In the years prior to the rise of Elvis Presley, sheet music routinely outsold records, and was a major source of revenue for those involved with its publication. It was much more important to retain revenue from sales of sheet music than from the sales of records.

In 1921, the Mills brothers (not the singing group) were struggling publishers. Rising from poverty in New York City, largely on the strength of their ability to promote - or plug - other people's songs, Jack and Irving Mills eventually became owners of one of the most productive and important music publishing companies in North America - Mills Music. Formed in 1919, it was initially called "Jack Mills Inc." and in 1921 the company struck gold. The opera singer Enrico Caruso was the most beloved, revered, and top-selling artist of the era. He had just died, and Jack Mills Inc. bought the rights to a song titled "They Needed a Songbird in Heaven (So God Took Caruso Away)."  The song became so popular that in 1925 Time magazine described it as: "a ditty that was scratched from every phonograph, mewed through the sinus cavities of every cabaret tenor who could boast a nose, caroled by housewives at their tubs and business men at their shaving." (I should emphasize here that "housewives at their tubs" refers not to bathtubs, but to washing tubs -where the laundry was done by hand.)

It is possible that, were it not for this ditty, Mills Music would not have survived to, seven years later, discover and promote a gritty folk song called "St. James Infirmary."

Popular as "They Needed a Songbird in Heaven" was then, I have been unable to unearth a single vocal recording of this song, either by contemporary artists or on CD compilations of old songs. So . . . while it once enjoyed the heights of popularity, it has been forgotten today and, thus, is probably new to you.

So, without further ado, below you can see the three pages of the sheet music from 1921 (which should enlarge if you click on them). Merry Christmas.

MP3 Monologue 9 - Don Redman (part 2)

This is the second part of a monologue about Don Redman. The first part can be found here: MP3 Monologue 8.

In this episode, it is 1928 and Don Redman is about to travel to Chicago to help (as both an arranger and an instrumentalist) Louis Armstrong record a few songs. At a local ballroom he hears Al Katz and his band perform St. James Infirmary and . . .

To listen to this monologue (about 3 minutes) click here: Don Redman Part 2 MP3

Tony Bennett's first recording: "St. James Infirmary"

After a distinguished career in the army (and an eventual demotion for eating in a restaurant with a black friend), Tony Bennett made his first recording. This was on a V-disc, for American troops. You can read a bit about V-discs here, in a touching article by George Tannenbaum. You can read about his army career here, and here. All of these items are very interesting.

The record was made in 1946 or 1947. Bennett would have been about 20 years old. He was backed by the army orchestra, in Germany. The song was not released in the U.S., due to a musicians' strike. If you can't afford the Tony Bennett Complete Collection ($400 at Barnes & Noble), and want to hear the first recording Bennett made, "St. James Infirmary," you can find it here (although you will need Spotify). Wonderful.

Old Westbury Web Radio at stjamesinfirmary.net

Here is something unusual; maybe you can explain it to me.

Residing at the web page stjamesinfirmary.net is a web radio show that can be downloaded. The shows feature a variety of songs ranging from middle-of-the-road pop music to old blues songs, and much in between. The selections are certainly interesting, and could only have been selected by a true music fan. A true music fan?? What do I mean by that? Well, look at the lists and I have no doubt that you will agree with me.

Each show (there must now be over fifty of them) is divided into two parts, in which the first (or occasionally second) song of the first part is "St. James Infirmary." The really odd thing is that the "St. James Infirmary" in the various broadcasts is always, without exception, the one recorded by Alan Toussaint. Actually, Toussaint's 2009 version is one of my favourite recent recordings of "St. James Infirmary," along with Van Morrison's (2003) and Hugh Laurie's (2011). The shows are recorded at 128 kbps.

But, hey, the dj - a dentist by the name of Michael J. Mand - talks over Toussaint's piano at the beginning of the broadcasts, in fact chats with his audience (in an informal, meandering - appealing - way) before moving into the subsequent playlist, which really is a fascinating cornucopia of popular music past and present. Check out the site, listen for a while; I am sure you will discover something you like.

More copyright questions: "Grist for the Mills"

Ratzo B. Harris

Well, this seems to be a day for copyright issues! Hours after I had written the article below, I received - from one of my readers - a link to another discussion that muses about copyright

The "Mills" in the title above refers, no doubt, to Irving Mills. And that part of the title is also the title (are you following?) of an article by bassist Ratzo B. Harris. The article concerns a number of things, in part a confession of a painful misunderstanding, but ends up discussing concerns about how financial difficulty or professional relationships can result in misattributed copyright assignments. (From another article by Ratzo Harris, but pertinent to this discussion: "there is the problem of whether something agreed to vis-à-vis economic coercion is actually a matter of mutual consent.")

For those unfamiliar with the music of Duke Ellington - who figures prominently in this article - let me say here that Billy Strayhorn was a gifted composer, pianist, and arranger who was, for many years, part of the Duke Ellington organization. While he and Ellington worked closely together, it is often difficult to determine which compositions Strayhorn originated (and were credited as a collaboration between Ellington and Strayhorn), which ones Ellington originated and Strayhorn modified (but for which Ellington retained copyright credit), and so on. In the same way, sort of, that there is controversy over how much Irving Mills contributed to the many Ellington tunes on which he receives co-composer credit (likely more than is generally opined).

Okay, here I shall take a deep breath. And let Ratzo B. Harris tell his own story. His article can be found here, at The New Music Box website: "Grist For The Mills"

Copyright article - from "Brain Pickings"

Maria Popova

Readers of this blog will be aware that the history of "St. James Infirmary" is intimately entangled with issues of copyright. There is an argument, easily sustained, that rigid copyright law is antithetical to a culture's creative evolution - and, by extension, contributes to stagnation and decline.

I have just encountered an article from . . . well, a most interesting blog called "Brain Pickings," managed by Maria Popova. The article can be found here: Transformation As Authorship. Well-written and concise, it is definitely recommended reading.

Saxophone sheet music for St. James Infirmary

I recently had a request to show the sheet music scans I have for the saxophone section of the orchestra, in the 1929 arrangement that Fred Van Eps made for the Gotham Music Service - aka Mills Music.

There are actually several saxophone parts, so I shall include them all here. At the top of this entry is the 1st saxophone part, written for alto sax.

The also sax also served as the third saxophone, and that music is immediately below:

And, finally, the music for the 2nd saxophone, written for tenor sax:

All these images should enlarge if you click on them.

Hugh Laurie and SJI

Last year Hugh Laurie - a very talented fellow best known for his portrayal of House on the Fox television series - released a CD called "Let Them Talk" on Warner Brothers Records. The first song on this CD is "St. James Infirmary" and clocks in at 6:23. I have to tell you that I really like this rendition - Laurie's piano playing is superb, and he respects the deep history of the song in his vocalizations. In fact, this song alone is worth the price of the CD. No kidding.

Every now and again one can bump into Hugh Laurie on YouTube, playing and talking about the song. For instance, in this YouTube snippet Laurie declares that "St. James Infirmary" was "based on a much older English folk song in which the St. James of the Infirmary is actually what is now St. James' Palace in London where the queen eats cucumber sandwiches. I find that interesting; almost no one else in the world knows."

That's too bad. It is most unlikely that the St. James of the song had anything to do with St. James' Palace, although that - along with its (erroneous) connection with the song "The Unfortunate Rake" - have hung around the neck of "St. James Infirmary" like a dead albatross for decades. In the case of St. James' Palace, the culprit is possibly the Wikipedia entry on "St. James Infirmary Blues" or most likely the liner notes to the Folkways Records disc, "The Unfortunate Rake," which contains about twenty variations of the song. Here is an excerpt from Kenneth S. Goldstein's long and very interesting liner notes:

"It is, perhaps, a bittersweet historical irony that the 'St. James Hospital' which provides the setting for this series of ballads is known today in London as St. James Palace, the home of the 'Court of St. James.' The original St. James Hospital was a religious foundation for the redemption of 'fourteen sisters, maidens, that were leperous, living chastely and honestly in divine service.' Now known as St. James Park, the grounds on which the palace stands was acquired by Henry VIII in 1532. During the whole reign of George III, the royal court was held at St. James."

In fact, the real story of SJI is much more interesting.