Pour: Coffee and Tea Edition

The Ink Spots: The Java Jive

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Manhattan Transfer: The Java Jive

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I will always associate this song with being excused from gym class. It happened in my senior year of high school. I had sung in the men’s chorus, (which was a way of getting out of homeroom), for three years, and the conductor urged me in my junior year to take choir as well. I also took choir as a senior, but I never even considered taking Schola Cantorum. This was the elite small singing group and class, and I never thought I would be good enough. I was, however, a rarity in high school especially, a true basso profundo, a low bass. I could sing notes below the staff with authority. So it happened in the middle of my senior year that one of the basses in Schola Cantorum broke his leg in a skiing accident, and could not perform with the group for the rest of the year. My choir teacher, who also taught Schola, basically strong-armed me into the group. He even got me excused from gym for the remainder of the year, which meant I got credit for nine classes in an eight period day. Java Jive was the first song I learned with the new group.

Java Jive was originally done by the Ink Spots, as presented here. I did not know that until years later. When I found the Manhattan Transfer version, I thought my search was over. In fact, I don’t think Manhattan Transfer has ever done an original song, but they do have a marvelous way with covers. Their Java Jive starts out being pretty faithful to the Ink Spots, but, at the bridge where they start listing the beans, they begin to make the song their own, and they take it out in style. The original lyric here says, “unless it is a cheery cheery bean”, which I have to assume was period slang. Manhattan Transfer’s pronunciation here is muddy, and some later versions sing it as the nonsensical, “chili chili bean.” I have never tried using coffee beans in chili, and I don’t expect to.

Horace Heidt and His Musical Knights: I’m a Little Teapot

Finally, our theme would not be complete without a version of I’m a Little Teapot. I have played the hero here, wading through some truly appalling examples of how bad children’s music can be to find this one. It’s a bit obscure now, and I could not find a purchase link. But this one was a big band hit in 1940. There was a dance that went with it, the Teapot Tip. The song was written a year earlier, and a dance that was more appropriate for very young children, and also easier, was also created at that time. I don’t have all of the details, but I believe the kids’ version was basically the moves that kids do to the song to this day. If you have ever sat through the preschooler portion of a dance school recital, you know the moves I mean. Meanwhile, in my big band version, I believe the singer is Ronnie Kelton. This is the only version of the song I could find that includes the lyrics about Napoleon.

Homonyms: Operator

Grateful Dead: Operator

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Manhattan Transfer: Operator

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Alexis Korner with Robert Plant: Operator

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Jim Croce: Operator (That‘s Not the Way It Feels)

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When I was a child, there was only one telephone company. If you needed any help making a call, you were completely at their mercy. What we call by the more clunky name of directory assistance was simply known as “information” in those days, and you spoke to a human being, usually female. Lily Tomlin, shown above, brilliantly spoofed the information operator and the power of the phone company. But their job was twofold: to help the customer reach their party, but also to protect the privacy of that party. So, if you didn’t have enough information to help the operator find the number and connect you, you might be treated with suspicion. That created the perfect metaphor for songwriters.

Ron McKernan, better known as Pigpen, was the original keyboard player for the Grateful Dead. His song Operator has the narrator trying to find a girl for whom he has incomplete information, maybe just her name. He has a vague idea where she might be, but nothing definite. The girl could easily be a groupie with whom the narrator had a one night stand that made a strong impression on the narrator. But, in listening to the song while preparing for this post, I was struck with another possibility, one I feel sure Pigpen never intended. What if the narrator is a father searching for his teen runaway daughter? As I said, I don’t think Pigpen had that in mind, but it works.

If you have heard of Manhattan Transfer, you may know them for their doo-wop flavored hit The Boy From New York City. Maybe you also know that they went in a jazz direction in their later career. But Operator was their breakthrough song in 1975, and it is pure gospel. The song was originally written and performed about 20 years earlier by William Spivery. Aside from Operator, Spivery is really only known for two other songs, musical tributes to John F Kennedy and Martin Luther King. The song is a prayer, with the singer asking the operator for a connection to heaven.

Special thanks go out to fellow Star Maker Bert for making this post possible. I asked him for the two songs above, and he went beyond the call of duty and sent me a third Operator by Alexis Korner. I had never even heard it before, but it’s a keeper that is also of historical interest. Alexis Korner was one of many British rock artists in the 1960s who embraced the blues. His playing, based on this example, was fine, but Korner wasn’t much of a blues singer, and that is probably why he isn’t better known. John Mayall was probably an even worse singer, but his reputation rests on his uncanny ability to find sidemen who would go on to fame and fortune. On Operator, Korner got that kind of help too, from Robert Plant. Plant would be in Led Zeppelin a year after this recording, developing his trademark rock howl. But here is the beginning of that voice, in a blues context. Personally. I would much rather hear Robert Plant sing the blues. This Operator is a breakup blues, with nothing special about the lyrics. But the performance is great. It’s just piano, acoustic guitar, harmonica, and that great blues howl by Plant that makes this one utterly convincing. Incidentally, nothing in the lyrics explains why this song is called Operator, but Korner had to call it something.

Finally, I’m cheating a bit with my last selection. But how can you post a set of songs called Operator, and not include Jim Croce? The parenthetical That’s Not the Way It Feels in the title means the song is not a true homonym, but it fits the theme better than the Alexis Korner song in terms of lyrics. Like Pigpen, Croce’s narrator is seeking a girl he knew back when. But he knows where she is. What Croce’s narrator really wants is the ability to forgive an old hurt that won’t go away. And that is what he is asking for help with.

For the Birds: A Nightingale Sang in Berkeley Square

The Manhattan Transfer: A Nightingale Sang in Berkeley Square

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This week, we have been treated to some beautiful, realistic nature photography, as well as some more humorous images. But this post needed a romantic picture. For a few moments, we leave the real world behind, as The Manhattan Transfer transports us to the world of idealized romantic love.

I am a long time hater of love songs. They are often presented in huge productions, drowning in schmaltzy strings. Or the singer belts out the song with no nuance whatsoever. Or someone decides to jazz it up, and it sounds hokey and false. All of this and more has been done to A Nightingale Sang in Berkeley Square. The song is a standard, which means that it has been ruined in more ways than anyone can count. The song dates from 1939, just before Britain’s entry into World War II. Berkeley Square is in London, and no one has ever seen a nightingale there. To do so would be as miraculous as the love described in the song. The Manhattan Transfer would revisit the song on an album they did with a full orchestra. But this was how they first recorded it in 1981, with just four perfectly blended voices, and no instruments at all. And this simple arrangement is as lush and romantic as anything I have ever heard. So, I don’t actually hate love songs at all. I just hate how they are often performed.

Parentheses: Until I Met You (Corner Pocket)

The Manhattan Transfer: Until I Met You (Corner Pocket)

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If you saw my posts for our Joni Covers week, or if you’ve looked at Oliver di Place recently, you know that I love jazz singing. If you’ve heard of The Manhattan Transfer, you may remember The Boy From New York City, and wonder why I’m bringing this up. But The Manhattan Transfer was the group that introduced me to jazz vocals, and they have done quite a bit of it in the course of their career.

In high school, I sang in the choir, and the conductor, who was used to non-musical kids who took the class for an easy grade, was happy to have a bass who took it seriously. When one of the basses in the elite choir broke his leg in a skiing accident with a concert coming up, I got the call. The first piece we worked on was Java Jive. I wanted to find a recording of it, and that’s how I found The Manhattan Transfer. I was hooked, and I was still following their career when they got around to recording this one. Until I Met You is often recorded as Cherry Pink and Apple Blossom White, while Corner Pocket was a standard for Count Basie back in the day. Together, they form a love story, told from both sides of the relationship. I would like to dedicate this one to my wife Janice, on this our anniversary.

Name-Droppers: Vocalese Edition

Eddie Jefferson

I’m sure most of you have heard my news. If not, head on over to my blog, Oliver di Place for that, and then rejoin us here. I’m sure I will have my good and bad days for a while, but tonight I feel up to posting. And I had this one planned before everything happened. Without further ado...

Vocalese. Don’t feel bad if you don’t recognize the word. Neither does my spell check program. Still, it is a real word. Vocalese is a technique of jazz singing, where the singer takes a particular version of a tune, and writes lyrics to the melody and the solos in that version.

Eddie Jefferson: Body and Soul

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Eddie Jefferson is widely credited as the creator of vocalese. Body and Soul is a jazz standard that became one of Jefferson’s best known songs. The name-drop comes at the very end, when Jefferson credits James Moody as the artist responsible for the version of Body and Soul he used.

Manhattan Transfer: Birdland

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After Eddie Jefferson, the next artists to become known for vocalese were Lambert Hendricks and Ross. This trio were active as a group from the 50s into the early 60s. Perhaps their best known song, because of Joni Mitchell’s cover, was Twisted.

Lambert, Hendricks, and Ross remained active separately for many years. Their work as a group inspired many, including Manhattan Transfer. So when Manhattan Transfer decided to turn their attention to vocalese, it was only natural that they would turn to Jon Hendricks for help. Hendricks wrote the lyrics to Birdland for them. Birdland was the legendary jazz club in New York City in the 1950s, and the lyrics mention some of the jazz legends who played there. The song first appeared on the Manhattan Transfer album Extensions, which also includes their version of Body and Soul.