May 27th, 2009
A red hot Yiddishe mamma
My passion for singers and their songs from the 1920s and 30s baffles my classically-minded friends. I won’t even try to explain it – they just hit me – hard – in a whole different place from Puccini or Bach.
Those French chanteuses whose influence was so evident later in the singing of Edith Piaf. And Marlene Dietrich (but only in her early days and only in German). And oh – Mae West – seriously, she was sensational – the archetypal bad girl.
But today, let’s talk about the one – the only – the original red hot mamma – Miss Sophie Tucker (1884-1966). In fact, give me a spangly frock & feather fascinator and I’ll sit right down at the piano and do one of her numbers for you…
One of my mother’s favourite songs was My Yiddishe Momme and I realise now that it was Sophie singing it. Now, Mother knew not a schmidish of Yiddish and if her Presbyterian soul had known of Miss Tucker’s background, she’d maybe have reconsidered. But that’s where I first heard Sophie Tucker. (more…)
May 26th, 2009
Shellac? Hell, yeah
I’ve been looking at my 78rpm shellac record collection. The ones above are what I’ve called Various. They date from the 1920s through to the 40s. Although there’s some familiar names there with the big band names (Duke Ellington and Edmundo Ros), there’s a whole heap of weird and wonderful ensembles. At the time, jobbing musicians were badly paid and so ad hoc bands were common, usually taking the name of the band leader. You really have to know your record history (I’m a complete amateur, I don’t!) to know that an achingly sweet horn on a particular record was actually Louis Armstrong, for example. And look at The Seven Gallon Jug Band playing on the reverse side of the queen of the blues, Bessie Smith!
May 15th, 2009
Dark chocolate or Melton Mowbray pie?
I just tweeted with the line Shostakovich is like intensely dark, bitter chocolate with orange zest and wondered how many composers’ music is associated with food in our minds?
Regrettably, this thought also led to thinking about people and their pet (often bedroom) names for each other which are loosely culinary, so I’d hesitate to describe Mozart’s music as a fluffy, mouthwatering muffin because, well look, we just won’t go there, okay?
But still Mahler is surely some Viennese pastry concoction with added schlag and Bach a flavourful river trout with fresh green vegetables? John Taverner a cup of green tea in an exquisite Chinese cup and Faure a brioche fresh from the boulangerie topped with strawberry preserve. (more…)
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