My son-in-law, Martin Myles, for some years hosted a programme on community radio at Castlemaine, where he was then living. The programme featured Martin introducing each week some 20 or so tracks from his extensive CD collection, with his knowledgeable and cool commentary. The programme title - The Kitchen Sink - implied a wide range of tastes and music genres but, in truth, it wasn't really all-embracing. It didn't, for instance, linger over traditional "rock and roll", and classical/serious pieces were outside its usual remit.
It was with some pleasure that I received Martin's invitation to be guest on his programme, and to bring along a couple of tracks for broadcast and discussion. Pleasure, but also surprise - surprise, because in comparison with the typical playlist for The Kitchen Sink, anything I might choose would be decidedly uncool. Martin knew he was taking a risk on behalf of his faithful listeners, but welcomed me into the studio nonetheless.
My first guest appearance was in episode 166 of The Kitchen Sink. I had chosen three pieces: two versions of the 1930s popular song, Brother, Can You Spare a Dime? and a song written and performed by the sophisticate vocalist, Blossom Dearie. That song: Someone's Been Sending Me Flowers.
I chose to air two versions of Brother, Can You Spare a Dime? as an exercise in contrasts. The song was written for a revue titled Americana by Jay Gorney, with lyrics by E.Y. ("Yip") Harburg. It came to be identified as the anthem of the Great Depression - the anthem of shattered dreams.
Here is my introduction to the song, as broadcast:
Thanks, Martin. When contemplating my appearance on The Kitchen Sink I was overwhelmed with choice, but tried to keep it within the popular vein, and thought I'd try something a little different; and that is, firstly, two versions of the same song. They were recorded 57 years apart.
This is a 1932 pop tune - older people will know it - Brother, Can You Spare a Dime? There were three artists who recorded it at that time. Bing Crosby was one, and the Bing Crosby version was the number one selling record in America in 1932. And Rudy Vallee. And Al Jolson recorded it as well; and many other people have recorded it since.
The one I'm playing for you this evening is the Rudy Vallee version. The song was written - I said 1932, but it was actually written in 1930, just into the depths of the Depression. It's a song talking about the experience of American workers, who were by that time - after one year of Depression - on the dole, on the breadline, and looking at American society with anguish saying look, it was only a dozen years ago when we were fighting for our country and we were heroes, and we were well fed as soldiers; and here we are waiting in line for bread. And so it's a despairing song, not written full of resignation but rather anger at the situation that they find themselves in.
The Rudy Vallee version has a real beat to it, it just rocks along like a march, really, and I think it's probably been recorded that way to be an echo of the fact that these people were soldiers once, and they would have marched to a tune with exactly the same beat.
Rudy Vallee was born in 1901, and was one of the great prodigies of American music.
By the age of 28 he had his own band, his own group based at Yale University. And he went on to an extraordinary career, lived to the age of 84, recorded many songs, was in Broadway plays, and was in more than 30 movies. So he had a very diverse career; and popped up after quite some years in the wilderness to star in the musical How to Succeed in Business Without Really Trying; and that ran on Broadway for three years. He was well into his sixties by this time. A very interesting character.
The second version of the song is by Mandy Patinkin. Patinkin these days is 61 years old, so he's been around during the lifetimes of all our listeners I should think - well, obviously! He's made 30 films, he's starred in a television soapie, he's been on Broadway in a number of shows where he's performed as a solo artist - so the Mandy Patinkin Show mark 1, mark 2 . He's done lots of other theatre. He's made a number of discs, about 15 CDs all told. Several of those are cast albums of shows that he's done; and he has a great fondness for the music of Stephen Sondheim, hence quite a lot of his songs are Sondheim songs.
Anyway, this track of Mandy Patinkin singing Brother, Can You Spare a Dime? is from one of his CDs. It's totally different from the Rudy Vallee version, as you will hear, and it attacks the music in a totally different way. I want you to listen specifically to the last note. Mandy Patinkin is not my favourite singer; he is a very artful performer, but he does like to demonstrate the power of his voice, and almost every song he sings he gives it a belt at some stage, and I find that a little off-putting. In this particular song, a few minutes from now, you will hear the last note that he sings, that he holds for about ten seconds, maybe more, and it's a stunner. It brings goose bumps to my flesh.
The third track is by Blossom Dearie. Blossom Dearie was a cult singer.......she lived from 1924 to 2009, so at 85 she was about the same age as Rudy Vallee when he died. She was a solo artist, really, spent a lot of her time in Europe and made lots of recordings there. Altogether she seems to have made about 30 albums, a number of them pre-CD, and I'm not sure whether they've been released as CDs.
Towards the end of her career she founded her own record company, and so the last dozen discs were recorded for Daffodil. That was the company name she used - perhaps appropriate, for the song we are having is called Someone's Been Sending Me Flowers. It's a song recorded in cabaret, recorded at The Ballroom in New York in 1984. At the time Blossom Dearie was 60 years old.
I saw her on stage in Melbourne some years back. She was a delightful performer - sat at the piano, played the music herself, and sang songs that were different. She described them as "sophisticated songs". There were covers, but most of the songs she played, I believe, were written for her, and some she wrote herself.
We've just had Blossom Dearie singing Someone's Been Sending Me Flowers. Martin thought it was quite hilarious, and was actually wetting himself as he was listening to that - and I hope others were too. [Martin: In case any other presenters are out there listening, I didn't actually wet myself, so everything in the studio is just fine.] It's a clever song, and that's what she was famous for - getting people to write clever songs for her, then delivering them impeccably.
I have unearthed a review from the 2nd December 1984 issue of the New York Times. It reports a performance at The Ballroom, 253 West 28th Street, from the very season when Someone's Been Sending Me Flowers was recorded. I quote: "She comes, as usual, with a repertory of songs - funny songs, charming songs, wistful songs - that have become closely identified with her and with her very personal style of delivery. Her almost teeny-tiny voice continues to be a remarkably expressive instrument, capable of projecting moods ranging from the tender to the drily comic with only the slightest change of inflection."
Here's something further, from the New York Times obituary of 8th February, 2009 [note the zinger at the end]: "Blossom Dearie, the jazz pixie with a little-girl voice and pageboy haircut who was a fixture in New York and London nightclubs for decades, died on Saturday at her apartment in Greenwich Village..........A singer, pianist and songwriter with an independent spirit who jealously guarded her privacy, Ms. Dearie pursued a singular career that blurred the line between jazz and cabaret......she was a genre unto herself........Ms. Dearie didn't suffer fools gladly and was unafraid to voice her disdain for music she didn't like; the songs of Andrew Lloyd Webber were a particular pet peeve."
Gary Andrews
Postscript:
During the economic troubles of the 1970s the New York Times asked lyricist, Yip Harburg, to reprise his Depression-era sentiments. His offering:
Once we had a Roosevelt, praise the Lord!
Life had meaning and hope.
Now we're stuck with Nixon, Agnew, Ford.
Brother, can you spare a rope?
And a bit more:
Below are the lyrics to the two songs I chose for featuring in The Kitchen Sink #166:
Brother, Can You Spare a Dime?
They used to tell me I was building a dream,
and so I followed the mob.
When there was earth to plough or guns to bear,
I was always there, right on the job.
They used to tell me I was building a dream,
with peace and glory ahead.
Why should I be standing in line
just waiting for bread?
Once I built a railroad, made it run,
Made it race against time.
Once I built a railroad, now its done.
Brother, can you spare a dime?
Once I built a tower to the sun,
brick and rivet and lime.
Once I built a tower, now it's done.
Brother, can you spare a dime?
Once in khaki suits, gee we looked swell
full of that Yankee Doodle De Dum.
Half a million boots went slogging through hell.
I was the kid with the drum.
Say, don't you remember, they called me Al,
it was Al all the time.
Say, don't you remember, I'm your pal!
Buddy, can you spare a dime?
Once in khaki suits, gee we looked swell
full of that Yankee Doodle De Dum.
Half a million boots went slogging through hell.
I was the kid with the drum.
Say don't you remember, they called me Al,
It was Al all the time.
Say, don't you remember, I'm your pal!
Buddy, can you spare a dime?
Someone's Been Sending Me Flowers
Someone's been sending me flowers,
oh! what a sweet thing to do.
Every new day brings another bouquet
and I don't know who to say thank you to.
Sometimes they're thrown through my window.
Or down through my chimney they fall.
Sometimes at night when I've turned out the light
they come through a crack in the wall.
Now that my house is a garden
bursting with blossoms in bloom
I stand there for hours admiring my flowers.
I'd like to lie down but there just isn't room.
Someone's been sending me flowers,
more than I ever have had;
remarkable stuff, but enough is enough.
If I see another bouquet I'll go mad!
He started by sending me bluebells -
oddly enough they were grey.
Each faded bloom had a nasty perfume;
besides being grey they were papier-mache.
There followed a garden of fungus
and then, as a tropical treat,
he sent me a plant that proceeded to pant,
and later began to eat meat.
The cactus corsage touched me deeply,
beautiful plant in its prime.
I felt much the same when the rock garden came -
one rock at a time.
Somebody madly adores me,
I know not whom to suspect.
Since I cannot afford to be madly adored
I do wish you'd stop sending flowers -
collect!
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