Happy anniversary everybody! Yes, I started this very blog
nine years ago this week, and to celebrate this auspicious occasion we have
another disc that was suggested by a long-time WWR follower.
Donated to our aural cabinet of curiosities by Steve Simms-Luddington,
information on the utterly bizarre promo record I Want a Lovely, Lovely
Sausage has been hard to come by, but I
have managed to piece together a few facts about it and its creator, Alexander
Silver.
Written to promote a prize-winning British butcher, rather
than the more famous jam manufacturer, I Want a Lovely, Lovely Sausage and the equally peculiar flip side, Come
to Robertson’s was issued some time in the
early 70s on the custom Alexander Silver Promotional Records label, written by
the same Alexander Silver and performed by Silver’s People – presumably Alex on
vocals and the horrendously out of tune guitar, plus two unwilling and
under-rehearsed friends on bass and drums.
Alex Silver was a jobbing songwriter who had previously
written the England Football Song in
1965, issued as a single-sided single by the small Jackson Recording Company, a
custom recording company who also put out the occasional 45 or LP and that was
based in Rickmansworth, Hertfordshire. Issued primarily to help bolster
England’s chances in the 1966 World Cup (well, it certainly worked!), the song
was a hit with Sir Alf Ramsay, was played at the World Cup opening ceremony and
at several matches during the competition, and could be heard on television and
on radio prior to and during the tournament. Our Alex also wrote an alternative
version of the official World Cup Willie theme, but this seems not to have been recorded.
Buoyed by the success of this, Mr. Silver set up his own
company. As well as I Want a Lovely, Lovely Sausage his Alexander Silver label issued at least one more
45, the David Kaye Sound’s Lorelei
backed with Sing An Alexander Silver Song… both songs, naturally, written by Alexander Silver.
There have been a number of British butchers trading under
the name Robertson over the years, and there’s no clue on the label or in the
lyrics as to which particular company the disc was cut for. The names of some
of the staff are mentioned in the lyrics of the b-side… time for someone to do
some detective work.
My recent shout-out for recordings that I have not previously
written about turned up this little nugget. Fellow Blogger Bob at Dead Wax
brought this to my attention; unfortunately I’ve only been able to find one
side of the disc so far (and the B-side at that), but goodness – what a find! (UPDATE: see below!)
Released on the tiny Lorida label, this disc was custom
pressed by RCA in 1958 – just about the same time that they were pressing discs
for Grace Pauline Chew’s Musicart label. Lorida isn’t a spelling mistake: it’s
the name of a small, unincorporated community in eastern Highlands County,
Florida. Originally named Istokpoga (a Seminole Indian word meaning ‘drowned
man’), the name was changed to Lorida (pronounced lo-reed-a) by
then-postmistress Mary Stokes 1937 by simply lopping the ‘f’ off Florida.
Other people associated with Lorida also had connections with the song-poem world: Earl Luton (of Lutone fame) composed at least one side for Lorida, and Harold Crosby - who also issued a 45 on Top Fifty - issued a brace of 45s on Lorida. Mike Sarlo, who performed with a band called the Footstompers on another Lorida release, was a programme director for a Pennsylvania radio station who also dabbled occasionally in songwriting and recording.
It appears that Manders (1906-1978) was from Allouez
village, Green Bay, Wisconsin – quite a way from Florida. It appears too that
Lorida issued at least a half dozen 45s during the life of the company, and
that this particular coupling was the first. Quite how it came about is a
mystery: I assume either Leona or her dad paid for the recording and pressing
themselves, or that the Bass family were friends of Martin Manders and he
stumped up the $50 or so to have the record cut and pressed.
UPDATE APRIL 2018: friend Bob has tracked down the a-side, Ralph Trullo doing his best Elvis impersonation (and failing miserably) on My Heart's With You on Trial. I have not discovered any further recordings (yet) by Mr. Trullo, but it is my belief that his surname has been Anglicised from Trujillo, a reasonably common name south of the border.
Most of you will already be acquainted with Leona Anderson:
I’ve written about her a couple of times before but it’s always nice to revisit
old friends, especially if you have something new to share.
And boy, do I. Today I present for you the missing Leona
Anderson 45, her second for Columbia and her third release at that point, Limburger
Lover/Yo-Ho the Crow.
Let’s have a quick recap of her story (if you want more,
there’s a chapter on Leona’s career in my first book: most of what follows is
culled from there).
Born Leona Aronson on April 3, 1885, Leona was the younger
sister of early cowboy movie star Gilbert ‘Broncho Billy’ Anderson. She began
her showbiz career at fifteen and seriously thought about a career as an
operatic singer (I’ve read that her brother paid for her to travel to London to
study) before appearing in a number of films - thankfully all silent –
including Mud and Sand (which starred
Stan Laurel as Rhubarb Vaseline) and In the Park which starred Charlie Chaplin. Unsurprisingly she
also appeared in several movies directed by and starring her brother. Many
years later (in 1959 to be exact) she appeared in the Vincent Price horror film
The House on Haunted Hill as the
demonic Mrs Slydes.
By the mid-1950s Leona had developed her unique singing
style and made many cabaret appearances sending up opera singers: she once said
she chose this career because ‘Opera singers just can't kid themselves
properly; they never can let their voices go’, which is not a criticism that
you could ever level at her. Throughout her career she would wilfully let her
voice go just about anywhere it damn well pleased.
Described by Billboard
as ‘a gal with cultivated, and broken, pipes’, Leona (erroneously credited as
Leonna Anderson) issued her first waxing, Fish, on both 78 and on
clear red vinyl 7”, in 1953. Fish was
released by Horrible Records (motto: if it’s really a Horrible Record it’s
bound to be a hit) and put out as the B-side to the Dr Demento favourite There's
A New Sound (The Sound Of Worms Eating Your Brain) by Tony Burrello. Fish
was co-written by Burrello, who also played calliope on the track; Bill Baird
(a puppeteer who would become better known a decade later for the Lonely
Goatherd marionette scene in The Sound
of Music) played tuba. 500 copies were originally pressed but within
two weeks Horrible Records had received orders for a further 100,000 copies. TV
comic Ernie Kovacs heard it and invited her on his show. Aided by Burrello and
Murray Leona put together a nightclub act, which she called Songs to Forget; the success of the act, coupled with Kovacs
championing her cause led to her recording a cover of the Pattie Page hit The
Mama Doll Song (backed with I’m A Fool To Care) for Columbia (featured on this blog before) – of
which Billboard wrote ‘her cracked tones, sadly out of tune (have) the same
macabre appeal as the miserable chirping of Florence Foster Jenkins’.
Issued in March 1955, more than 18 months before her seminal
album Music to Suffer By, her second
(and last) 45 for Columbia – and the one I present for you today - featured Limburger
Lover and Yo-Ho the Crow. Both
songsalso appeared, in
re-recorded form, on the album. Catalogue info exists for 78 rpm versions of
both Columbia singles although, as is often the case with these things, there
appear to be more promotional copies of the 45 in circulation that retail
copies. A fourth single, Indian Love Call/Habanera, was also issued, in March 1956 as both a 78 and 45
by Unique (it was also issued, with the sides flipped, in Australia: I’m lucky
enough to have picked up a copy recently for my own collection). She also
recorded a theme tune, of sorts, for the Bob and Ray radio show in March 1956.
‘I sing songs which cannot be ruined,” she once said. “I
don’t sing very off-key… just enough. I
decided that if I couldn’t be the best I’d be the worst.’
She died, on Christmas Day 1973, in a retirement home in
Fremont, Alameda County, California at the age of 88. She may be gone, but she
left us with a legacy for which we should be forever grateful.
A copy of this 45 recently turned up on Ebay: I was bidding
for it but dropped out at $30. I’ll console myself with the MP3s until the next
one turns up.
On September 28 this blog will celebrate its ninth
anniversary: yes, I’ve been writing about bad music for that long. To
celebrate, I asked readers (via our Facebook page) to nominate a favourite bad
record that I had not written about, and over the next few weeks I’m going to
share some of those suggestions with you. You can suggest your own via the
comments section at the end of this post.
Born in 1909, Sir Robert Helpmann was an Australian dancer
who became an international ballet star and choreographer as well as a noted
actor and director. Openly gay (he lived with his partner for 36 years) and
with a flamboyant sense of theatricality, Robert had been on stage since the
age of eight. ‘When he was a little chap’, his mother, Mattie Helpman, once
revealed, ‘he used to take away my stockings and use them for tights. He would
tie feathers round his head, too, and go roaming round the streets until I’m
sure people thought I had a lunatic in the family.’
Knighted in 1968, during the 30s and 40s Sir Robert was one
of British ballet's premier male dancers. Noted as ‘a dancer who could act and
an actor who could dance’, his personality and talent played a vital part in
building the fledgling British ballet.
After studying briefly with Anna Pavlova in Melbourne (which
had been arranged by his rather dour father), Robert went to London in 1933 to
study and perform with the Sadler's Wells Ballet, now known as the Royal
Ballet. He was the leading male star with that company from 1934 until his resignation
in 1950, frequently appearing with his longtime partner Dame Margot. In the
1937-38 season, he beat Laurence Olivier for the part of Oberon in A
Midsummer Night's Dream at the Old Vic,
playing opposite Vivien Leigh. He later repeated that role opposite Moira
Shearer at the Metropolitan Opera House and on a US tour in 1954.
During his years with Sadler's Wells, Sir Robert took
occasional leaves of absence to act, most notably in the classic Michael Powell
and Emeric Pressburger film The Red Shoes,
a stylish, highly influential movie about backstage life in the ballet. Years
later, when an interviewer asked him whether the high-pitched portrayal of the
events and lives of the dancers were exaggerated, he replied, ‘Oh, no, dear
boy, it was quite understated’. Other film credits included multiple roles in
the Tales of Hoffmann, the Bishop
of Ely in Olivier’s Henry V and
the terrifying Child Catcher in the classic Chitty Chitty Bang Bang. In 1995 Marylin Manson paid tribute, of sorts, via
the album Smells Like Children,
with Manson dressed as the Child Catcher on the sleeve.
During his career he Puccini's La Boheme and Rimsky-Korsakov's Coq d'Or for the Royal Opera House, Covent Garden, T. S.
Eliot's Murder in the Cathedral
for the Old Vic and directed the musical Camelot on stage. In 1955 he co-starred with Katharine
Hepburn, touing in three Shakespearean plays in Australia, and from 1965 to
1975 he was co-director of the Australian Ballet.
But here’s one thing you’ll struggle to find a mention of in
his official biography. In 1963 Helpmann recorded four surf-themed tracks for
HMV in Australia. Seriously. Someone at HMV thought the gay, 54 year-old
Helpmann could pass as a teen idol and ride on the coat tails of the Beach
Boys, Jan and Dean and the like in to the charts. Two cuts from the session
were issued as a 45 the following year (the same year he was appointed CBE) - Surfer
Doll and I Still Could Care (HMV EA-4620) - with the second pair - Surf
Dance and Let-A-Go Your Heart - issued the following year (EA-4665). All four
tracks were collected on the Raven EP Sir Robert Helpmann Goes Surfing in
1982, dubbed from vinyl copies as the master tapes could not be located.
There’s a hysterical film clip of Helpmann performing Surfer Doll on YouTube if
you care to look for it and, apparently, sheet music featuring Robert on the
cover in a peroxide blond wig. The first 45 was also issued in the US, on Blue
Pacific Records.
Helpmann died in Sydney – appropriately for this anniversary
post on September 28 – in 1986 after a long battle with emphysema, caused it
seems by a lifetime of heavy smoking. He was 77 years old.
With enormous thanks to Graham Graham for bringing these
tracks to my attention, here are all four sides cut by Sir Robert for HMV
Australia.
A couple of weeks ago I introduced you to the delights of
Tommy Dee, the stentorial DJ who cut more than a dozen ridiculous records for
various labels during his career, several of which dealt with the deaths of
musicians. Well, thanks to popular demand, we’re revisiting Tommy today,
specifically to have a look at another of his specialities, the patriotic pop
song.
There’s a Star Spangled Banner Waving Somewhere/The Hobo
and the Puppy (Challenge 612) was issued
on 1960, just a year after Tommy’s only hit, Three Stars. There’s a
Star Spangled Banner Waving Somewhere tells
the story of Francis Gary Powers – usually referred to as Gary Powers –an
American pilot who was shot down while flying a U-2 spy plane for the CIA in
Soviet Union airspace. The former USAF U-2 was equipped with a state-of-the-art
camera designed to take high-resolution photos from the edge of the
stratosphere over hostile countries, including the Soviet Union; Power’s
mission was to photograph military installations and other important sites.
He was shot down by a surface-to-air missile over
Sverdlovsk. Powers was captured and taken to Lubyanka Prison in Moscow. When
the U.S. government learned of Powers' disappearance they issued a cover
statement claiming a ‘weather plane’ had strayed off course after its pilot had
‘difficulties with his oxygen equipment’. CIA officials did not know that the
plane crashed almost fully intact, and the Soviets recovered its equipment.
Powers was interrogated extensively by the KGB for months before he made a
confession and a public apology for his part in espionage. His trial began on
August 17 1960, before the military division of the Supreme Court of the USSR.
Members of his family were present, as were attorneys provided by the CIA. Two
days later Powers was convicted of espionage and sentenced to ten years
confinement, three in prison, the remainder in a labour camp. On February 10
1962, Powers was exchanged, along with American student Frederic Pryor, in a
well-publicised spy swap at the Glienicke Bridge in Berlin. The exchange was
for Soviet KGB Colonel Vilyam Fisher, known as Rudolf Abel, who had been caught
by the FBI and tried and jailed for espionage.
Powers died in August 1977. He had been working as a helicopter
traffic pilot reporter for KNBC News Channel 4 when he was forced to make an
emergency landing as the helicopter was running out of fuel. As he descended he
noticed children playing in the area, and directed the helicopter elsewhere to
avoid landing on them. If not for the last-second deviation he might have
landed safely. The ‘copter crashed and Powers died instantly.
Our next disc was released by Tommy in February 1967. Roger,
Ed And Gus (America's Astronaut Heroes) is
a tribute to the astronauts Gus Grissom, Ed White and Roger Chaffee, who had
been killed during testing for the Apollo 1 mission at Cape Kennedy, Florida.
The men died after fire swept through the spacecraft, designed for a manned
flight to the Moon. It was thought an electrical spark started in the area
holding oxygen supplies and other support systems which quickly spread in the
oxygen-filled atmosphere of the capsule, killing the crew within seconds.
The autopsy report confirmed that the primary cause of death
for all three astronauts was cardiac arrest caused by high concentrations of
carbon monoxide. The third degree burns suffered by the crew were not believed
to be major factors, and it was concluded that most of those had occurred
postmortem. Asphyxiation happened after the fire melted the astronauts' suits
and oxygen tubes, exposing them to the lethal atmosphere of the cabin. An
Apollo 1 mission patch was left on the Moon's surface by Apollo 11 crew members
Neil Armstrong and Buzz Aldrin, and the Apollo 15 mission left a tiny memorial
statue, Fallen Astronaut, on the surface of the Moon along with a plaque
containing the names of the Apollo 1 astronauts.
Blimey, our Tommy sure knew how to pick ‘em!
I have also included the B-side, School For Fools, a rarity inas much as (instead of simply narrating) Tommy attempts to sing,
affecting a not unpleasant Johnny Cash-like lilt.