Gene Kardos & Joel Shaw, Vol. 1 (1930s)Home |
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The Yorkville region of New York City, located in the Upper East Side, is now a community of upscale high-rise apartments and townhouses. At the dawn of the 20th Century, however, Yorkville was largely an area of poor, tenement-dwelling immigrants. Germans were the dominant group, bringing an array of restaurants, shops and dance halls to the community. However, a stroll through the Yorkville streets would bring to one's ears Hungarian, Italian, Russian, Polish, Spanish, Chinese and Yiddish. Hardly anyone strolled through Yorkville in those days, though. Gang fights in the streets were commonplace, and fists sometimes gave way to knives and guns. Poor kids—there were hardly any others in Yorkville—would swim in the East River during the summer, happily immersing themselves in what was largely sewage. Although Yorkville could be a very hostile environment, families grew close there, banding together against the hard life of the streets. Into this atmosphere, Gene Kardos was born on June 12, 1899. His parents, of Hungarian descent, were Joseph and Lottie Kardos. Young Gene was a good student, having quite a talent for mathematics. A childhood friend was James Cagney, who was just a month younger than Kardos. While attending De Witt Clinton High School, Gene became enamored of the saxophone and began learning the instrument, and he also became proficient as a violinist. Music began taking up more of his time as years went by, and although he entered Pace University as an Accounting major to please his father, he'd already begun thinking of becoming a professional musician. The Great War decided his fate, although in a totally unexpected way. Filled with patriotic fervor, 19-year-old Gene decided to serve his country. He quit the university and enlisted in the Army. Oddly enough, he did this on November 11, 1918, and only a few hours later the Armistice was signed. Since the army now had a vast surplus of soldiers, Gene tore up his pass to Camp Humphrey and forgot about a military career (or so the story goes!). Finding himself at a crossroads, Gene decided to try his luck as a musician and spent the next several years working with a number of jazz bands. By 1925, he was in vaudeville, playing the Keith Circuit in a six-piece combo supporting singer-comedian George Lloyd and his wife in a sketch called The Garden Party. Lloyd sang and engaged in nonsensical patter with his wife; the group would also play between acts. With Gene in the band were pianist Joel Shaw and drummer Smith Howard, whose real names were Joel Schwartz and Sal Horowitz. By any name, these capable musicians would be friends and musical companions of Kardos' in the years to come. Around this time, Gene met another young musician who would figure in his future, a saxophonist and arranger named Bernie Green. With the advent of the talkies, vaudeville began dying out in 1929 and '30, and Gene—who hated the constant traveling of the three-a-day grind—wanted to return home and form his own band. Smith Howard had left to work at the Grossinger's resort, so he was replaced on drums by Abby Fisher. Joel Shaw remained with Gene, who by early 1931 had formed a seven-piece band and was performing in restaurants in and around Yorkville. One of the area's largest night spots was the Gloria Palast, a restaurant and dance hall which held over 2,000 people. This venue was located in the basement of the Yorkville Casino, which, conveniently was also the locale for the offices of Local 802 of the Musician's Union. Performing at the Gloria Palast would thus be a great way for a new band to gain exposure with arrangers, publishers, and many others in the world of popular music. In the spring of 1931, the Gloria Palast began auditioning new bands. Gene still had only his seven-piece combo, but when he heard about the opening he quickly expanded to a full-size orchestra of eleven men, including himself. Still, Gene was very meticulous in deciding who made the cut in his newer, larger band: the men had to be excellent readers, and they had to be able to play with precision at breakneck tempos. With his newly-augmented crew of top-level musicians, Gene won the audition and became leader of the house band at the Gloria Palast. The band now consisted of Kardos, playing violin and sax on occasion but usually waving his baton; Joel Shaw, piano; a dapper, mustachioed fellow named Max Goodman playing tuba; Sal Sussman on guitar; a sax section of Moe Cohen, Gabe Galinas and Jules Harrison; Sam Caspin (formerly Castagna) and Stan Casner on trumpets; Milt Small in the trombone chair; and Smith Howard returning to the drums. Essentia! to the band's success was arranger Bernie Green, who wrote about eighty percent of its library. The group and its fast, disciplined yet loose style of performance soon gained an enthusiastic following among the patrons at the Gloria Palast, not to mention the music publishers who were roaming the place. Since the Kardos boys were exceptional at reading music, publishers would have them try out their new stock arrangements. Several of these publishers began raving about the Kardos unit to Eli Oberstein, a scout for Victor. Oberstein went to the Gloria Palast, heard the band, and promptly fell in love with it. Unlike some of the earlier A&R men for Victor, Oberstein truly enjoyed hot, fast dance music. (One of his predecessors was a fellow named Eddie King, who has gone down in history as the man who assigned the worst possible tunes to the great Jean Goldkette Orchestra, and took away Bix Beiderbecke's solo spots.) With this shared enthusiasm, Oberstein and Kardos were both bucking a trend in popular music. Before the stock market crash of October 1929, most popular dance band music had been fast, exuberant, dynamic. But in 1931 the party was definitely over, and, as if suffering from a collective hangover, the people wanted something quieter, slower, smoother, sweeter. Ballads such as "Out of Nowhere" and "All of Me" were dominating radio; most of the new tunes didn't get any hotter than the bouncy "I Found a Million Dollar Baby." Jazz-inflected hits such as "Minnie the Moocher" were scarce. Formerly hot bands such as Jan Garber's and Hal Kemp's were abruptly changing direction. The public wanted sweet music to worry the wolf away, as a Howard Dietz-Arthur Schwartz song of 1931 put it. Oberstein loved hot music and wagered that more than a few record-buyers still did, too, but he had to hedge his bets. Thus, the band's first session was not for the Victor imprint, whose releases sold for 75 cents each, but for the new Timely Tunes subsidiary label. Similar to Columbia's budget labels (Harmony, Velvet Tone), Timely Tunes releases sold for 35 cents, by mail through the Montgomery Ward catalog. The first Timely Tunes disc was issued in April 1931; Gene's first recording session for the label was on June 10, but by July the imprint had been discontinued. There was no cause-and-effect here, since Gene's first four sides were excellent. The tunes had all been recorded earlier by Victor artists as diverse as Ted Weems' band, guitarist Carson Robison and a group led by pianist-singer-composer Hoagy Carmichael, but Kardos and company put their own stamp on tunes such as "Jig Time" and "Georgia On My Mind." If there was any flaw in the band's debut recordings, it would be the rather stilted singing of Albert Julian, whose only known recorded vocals these were. Fortunately, two months later, Oberstein booked the band for another session, this one for the big-league Victor label, and featuring a different vocalist, Dick Robertson. By 1931, Robertson had replaced Irving Kaufman as the most prolific dance-band singer of the day. He would become an integral part of the Kardos band's sound on records, remaining with them on all of their subsequent Victor sessions. Although historian Brian Rust asserts that he was from Canada, other sources place his birth in Brooklyn, New York, on July 3, 1903. There's certainly a twist of New Yorkese in his vocals. He got around as a young man, performing in the States and in Canada, and in France and England as well. He made his first records in London in March 1927, among them a bright rendition of "Crazy Words, Crazy Tune." Robertson would certainly prove his versatility in the next few years, recording everything from pop songs to hillbilly numbers. He definitely gravitated toward jazz, and often sang on records with many of the best black orchestras of the day: Duke Ellington, Andy Kirk, Fletcher Henderson. The fact that Robertson was recording with the finest white and black musicians says something about his talent and stature in the musical community. (Years later, he'd make a superb, long-running series of small-band jazz records for Decca.) Robertson was a good friend of trumpeter Red Hymie (Hyman Rosenbaum), who replaced Stan Casner in Kardos' band and took the hot solos. Hymie said, "Dick could sing any style of vocal, from a low-down moan to the boy next door, 'Joe College.'" Robertson didn't appear in public with the band—he was too busy in the studios—but he was a valuable asset to Kardos' records. The band's sound differed in other ways between live appearances and records; Red Hymie asserted that "We used stock arrangements when we played in public, but we had special arrangements made for the recording sessions; Bernie Green usually would do those." The tunes given Kardos to record were bright and bouncy, but rarely of lasting quality. Just as the band had become a favorite "try-out" group for publishers of stock arrangements, it now introduced several little-known tunes destined to stay that way. "A lot of the tunes we recorded weren't exactly popular," said Red Hymie. "I think Eli Oberstein, the A&R guy at Victor, was being 'paid off' to get these tunes recorded. We did 'em, but....." If some songs remain obscure, they're still rendered with enthusiasm by the Kardos crew, which now had Nat Brown on trombone instead of Jules Harrison, and saxophonist Pete Salemi replacing Milt Small. With its second session, the Kardos band had found its true sound and line-up, which would remain intact through the band's tenure at Victor. Jig Time First recorded in February 1931 by Ted Weems, who co-wrote this with Country Washburne. The band charges out like gangbusters in its first chorus, although Albert Julian sounds like a musical-comedy juvenile who's getting long in the tooth. The band doesn't show the slightest bit of hesitancy in its debut, performing with precision and self-assurance. Left My Gal In the Mountains A very citified version of a tune written by caustic hillbilly Carson Robison. Kardos' version is full of pizzazz and swagger. The pennywhistle behind Julian's vocal adds variety—a typically creative Kardos touch. The last chorus is full of tricky syncopation for the brass section, easily negotiated by Kardos' crackerjack team. Georgia On My Mind Hoagy Carmichael introduced his immortal melody (and Stuart Gorrell's lovely lyrics) with a Victor recording in September 1930. Julian here sounds a bit like Joey Nash, who would record for Bluebird with Richard Himber in 1934. Lazy River Another Hoagy Carmichael classic, although the main melody was written by New Orleans clarinetist Sidney Arodin (Hoagy wrote the verse and the lyrics). The intro tells us that this band can play soft, thoughtful music as well as the bold and brassy. The sax section work after Julian's vocal is a highlight, as is the muted trumpet solo on the final chorus. Waiting For the Moon A new session brings new members to the band. Sammy Caspin plays a muted lead trumpet on the first chorus. Joel Shaw's piano almost steals the show from Robertson's vocal. The brass section plays as one voice in the final chorus, which has some hairpin curves. Red-Headed Baby The whole band is seeing red, as Red Hymie's trumpet solo following Robertson's vocal is straight from Red Nichols land. As with most Kardos charts, the emphasis is on precisioned section work from the brass section, but solo voices are given several opportunities to shine. Mean Music Written by Herb Magidson and Frank Weldon, this one was arranged by Ted Raph, a trombonist who'd recorded with the California Ramblers and Phil Napoleon. With breakneck tempos like these, Kardos' "dance" records must've been intended solely for former Charleston champions. Robertson lapses into dialect on his vocal. Although the lyric advises the band to "Blue it up and moan it down," they finish things in their usual agitated fashion. China Boy Written by Richard A. Winfree and Phil Boutelje in 1922, this became a hit with Paul Whiteman's waxing in 1929. On Kardos' version, the trumpet, trombone and piano behind Robertson's vocal steal his thunder; it sounds as though arranger Bernie Green did his best to ignore the singers. The final chorus is full of unusual accents and unexpected crescendos. A Hot Dog, a Blanket and You High spirits run riot in this college football song written by J.
Fred Coots and Charles Newman for the first Depression-era class. The
vocal contributions from the band nudge this record into Waring's
Pennsylvanians territory: Joel Shaw becomes a falsetto cheerleader
before the boss steps in to introduce another highly unusual cheer from
the band: "Ikey, Moses, Jake and Sam / We are the boys that don't eat
ham / Baseball, football, swimming in a tank / We've got the money but
we keep it in the bank!" Yay, team! This highly irreverent number must've raised many an eyebrow in 1931. Peter and Paul don't get drunk, flirt with barmaids and "bum around Jerusalem" in my copy of the Good Book. The band has a fine time bellowing about Jerusalem the Golden, while solos from Red Hymie's trumpet and Gabe Galinas' tenor sax punctuate this pickled parable. What Are You Thinkin' About, Baby? After a whole slew of uptempo numbers, the band finally consents to a ballad, but typically they play it only slightly softer and slower than usual. Saxophonist Jules Harrison remarked, "I remember nights when we had requests for slow tunes and Gene's reaction was to twitch his nose and whisper to the guys, 'We're gonna play it, but we're gonna play it fast!"' You've Got to Sell It Kardos wrote this number with Jack Linton (a saxophonist with George Hall's band in the late '20s), who made the arrangement with Ted Raph. Kardos laconically spells out his musical philosophy in a distinctive Yorkville accent ("I've hoid some cawny bands who knock 'em owoff theah seats") while the band sprints through the highly-charged chart. Red Hymie's hot trumpet, Nat Brown's clarinet and Pete Salemi's Teagardenish trombone are but a precursor to that knockout final chorus, where even Max Goodman's tuba swings. The band gives itself a little "tah-dahhh!" flourish at the finish, deservedly celebrating its own mastery. Freddy the Freshman Another collegiate number, this one by Cliff Friend (who wrote a slew of wacky numbers such as "Ooh, Ernest, Are You Earnest With Me?") with David Oppenheim (co-author of "It's the Girl" and "When You're Over Sixty, and You Feel Like Sweet Sixteen"). In February 1932, the song formed the basis for a Vitaphone-Leon Schlesinger cartoon; the scores for those are among the few sources for genuinely hot American music from the early '30s. Now's the Time to Fall in Love This exuberant nose-thumbing to the Depression by Al Lewis and Al Sherman is indelibly associated with Eddie Cantor, who introduced it on his radio show in '31 but didn't record it until March 1942. Robertson sounds positively giddy over the economic downturn. The chorus following his second vocal ignores the actual melody in favor of some creative new riffs from the brass and reeds. Down On the Farm A bucolic number which sounds overly cute until you realize that it's making fun of its own premise. By the time Robertson gets to that line about "the horses ask," all pretense at seriousness is over. Kardos' attempt at a rural accent is just as funny as the jokey lyrics he delivers. Sweet Violets This folk ditty with innumerable salacious lyrics had been sung for years; a Western band called the Prairie Ramblers made the song their own when they renamed themselves the Sweet Violet Boys and recorded it for Vocation in late 1935. Kardos' version ignores the smutty jokes and allows Robertson to sing only the innocuous refrain. It's no loss, as this allows space for the band's tasty section work, particularly on that dynamite last chorus. Tell Tales One of the band's few excursions into legitimate ballads, this is very tasty, without the slightest trace of mawkishness. Kardos adds his seldom-heard violin to the mix. The arrangement is more conventional, but the tempo is slightly faster than normal for this type of song. The lyrics are by Charles O'Flynn, whose best-remembered work is "Smile, Darn Ya, Smile." You're Foolin'Yourself A midtempo but potent performance on a catchy but slight song. Robertson's dialect vocal sounds a bit like blackface singer Emmett Miller. Pete Salemi's gutsy trombone, followed by a violin trio, introduces a powerful last chorus dominated by the sax section. Business in F A great, hot number written and arranged by Archie Bleyer, who would go on to fame in the '50s working on TV with Arthur Godfrey (as would Bernie Green). It was also recorded in a bouncier but less driving rendition by Kardos' idol, Fletcher Henderson, for Columbia. Movie buffs will recognize this from its inclusion in the music tracks made in 1933 by the Van Beuren studio for its reissues of the Charlie Chaplin Mutual silent two-reelers (it's prominent in The Cure). Corn-Fed Cal Robertson must've had to leave the session early, since the vocal is delivered, more or less, by pianist Joel Shaw. The rustic song sounds like a mixture of "Mississippi Mud" and "I Have to Have You," but it's actually closer to "Goofus" in its depiction of a would-be musician. Ted Raph's bright arrangement spotlights that great sax section before ending with a combination of "Oh, You Horse's Ass!," and "Shave and-a Haircut." Blue Danube Blues Although Jerome Kern had written a "modern" song by this title in 1921, also based on the Strauss waltz, this driving arrangement in four-four time is an original by Bernie Green. Although there are brief solo spots, the emphasis is on the brass and reeds playing in unison. (For some reason, a branch from "O Tannenbaum" grows in before Hymie's trumpet solo.) I Wouldn't Change You For the World This lesser-known but lovely ballad has an elegant melody by Isham Jones and rather jokey lyrics by Charles Newman. Although this isn't a typical Kardos flag-waver, there's still plenty of musical muscle; more, we'll wager, than on Guy Lombardo's version for Columbia. Fate Introduced Me to You A very pretty tune is enhanced by an arrangement that manages to be powerful and easygoing at the same time, looking forward to the Swing Era. The finale is atypically poignant, proof that this band could whisper as well as shout. —RANDY SKRETVEDT Editorial note: Randy Skretvedt is editor of Past Times, a quarterly newsletter devoted to the entertainment of the 1920s, '30s and '40s. Randy's liner notes and musical commentary are only a sample of the excellently written and researched articles which appear there. For information write to: Past Times, 7308 Fillmore Drive, Buena Park, CA 90620-3882. And if you mention that you found out about him from The Old Masters, he may even send a sample issue - free!
All selections recorded in New York. All originally issued as by "Gene Kardos
and his
Acknowledgments: The cover photograph of Gene Kardos is from the Frank Driggs collection. Blue Danube Blues was originally part of Jack Souther's dance band collection. It has since passed into the hands of Ron Collier, a San Rafael, CA collector who was kind enough to let us borrow it for this album. I Wouldn't Change You For The World and Fate Introduced You To Me are both from the collection of Alan Watkins and Tom Brown of Seattle, WA. Thanks Ron, Alan and Tom for sharing these rare sides! Randy Skretvedt wishes to thank Harold Smith, Andy D'Arienzo and John Leifert for their pioneering research into the life and career of Gene Kardos. The inspiration for this CD (and three forthcoming CDs devoted to Kardos) comes from a 2-LP set on Kardos done some years back by the above mentioned Harold Smith. Hal reissues under the Park Lane label and resides in New York. He is a collector and researcher of late twenties and early thirties music.
Playing time: 71:02 Digital sound restoration: George Morrow, Echo Productions |
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