Saturday, June 25, 2016

Organizing some of this pianist mess(or re-doing a guide to early studio pianists...)

Much of what I have said about all of those earliest studio accompanists on this blog are things that come directly from the recordings, and are based on their backgrounds, and more than half the time, these unfortunate artists are never mentioned in catalogs. It really is like untangling a huge ball of string, that will perhaps never be untangled completely. How frustrating this whole thing is... I cannot best express how much of a headache this entire studio pianist venture has become, and Columbia's lost/destroyed ledgers really don't help at all in this. Sigh...

 I have been advised to try and put together a list of four recordings for each of these pianists' styles, and I ought to think that the easiest and clearest place to start would be proving the studio term of Frank P. Banta. 

This picture came from an obituary of Banta in a newspaper from 1903. 

Banta at Edison's studio piano in 1902. 
The only reason that Banta is easier to pinpoint as a definite studio pianist is because he was mentioned later by many studio stars as an accompanist, and also that he was famous for his transcribed solo of "Violets". It also helps that he was in that picture of the 42 Edison recording stars from 1900:
here's a closeup of Banta:
No. 35 he is. Love that look on his face! 

Now that in itself secures the fact that Banta worked for Edison, seeing him in that picture has higher advantages than a catalog(it helps that he was very distinct-looking in this case...). 
Now as for identifying his style, which is the hard part. 
Banta's musical background has been debated over the last eighty or so years, and even back in the era in which he lived there were conflicting statements, and misleading connotations. One source(one of those who worked with Banta), claimed that he was self-taught and learned from a very young age. Whereas another source stated that he was very well-taught and learned theory, tuning, and sight-reading. One thing is true however from these claims, Banta had perfect pitch, and was able to play anything be ear, as several sources, including Dan Quinn's Walsh letters, stated that he was able to play something right off the spot if someone threw a title at him, as long as he had heard the song before(which, being a studio pianist, he certainly would have).To give Quinn's letters more credibility, he named his youngest son after Banta, and he worked with Banta the most at Edison in 1899-1902, from that, he certainly recalled those times with Banta fondly and full of detail. Banta was mentioned in a handful of catalogs from 1899 to 1903, since he made a few piano solos in that time, one being "Hello Ma Baby", and another being "Violets", though sadly, the latter was much more popular and common. That is very helpful in trying to figure out Banta's recording activity. 

Picking four recordings that illustrate Banta's style are hard to some extent, as he was reported to be on a few labels, and was liked by many recording stars, so he's behind many studio stars. It's not at all biased with Banta, unlike Hylands at some points...
The first one that I have here is 1901 Edison cylinder with Arthur Collins. It's a recording that has caused some buzz in the record collecting community for the Rag-Time piano accompaniment so early on. Here's "Lam Lam Lam" by Arthur Collins. It's a rather early example of Rag-Time, still with all sorts of tricks that were lost as the Rag-Time era went forth. The one trait in this piano accompaniment that really is distinct is that rollicking and rhythmically even improvisations in the right hand, also the choice of chords in the left hand rhythm. There are also some strange rolled octaves that can be heard at about 2:06 that was distinct about many Victors(that Banta also worked for, according to some of their ledgers). The improvisations are very easy to understand and are not out of the rhythm at all, unlike some Columbia's from the same time period. 

The next recording is Silas Leachman's famous recording of Ben Harney's "Mr. Johnson Turn Me Loose" form 1901. This is not only a fantastic early recording of Rag-Time, but it's also one of the best examples of Banta's Rag-Time style. It has pretty much everything that was distinct about those Edison cylinders, the gradual speeding up, improvisations free of mistakes, steady kept time, and the ending chord with the fifth. One item that came along with Banta's Rag-Time was a more "dotted" syncopation, which, if you know anything about music theory, means that it's very slightly syncopated and at times sounds a bit stiff and old-fashioned. It makes sense that this is so according to Banta's obviously trained background, and the fact that he grew up in New York, not anywhere in the midwest or far out in the Western states.  

This next one is an earlier example of Banta's style, which is still comparable to the other two above, even though the style is much more "dotted" and old-fashioned, yet still syncopated to some extent. Here's Billy Golden's 1897 Edison take of "Turkey in the Straw". It's a much more old-fashioned sound, but it's also got Ragged playing in there, which is dotted and stiff much like the playing on the other examples above, also, there are also some hidden and hard-to hear fifths in there, including one at 1:32-33, and also are audible occasionally throughout. Also, the record is ended with that same fifth and chord that the others had. This take is almost identical to Golden's 1903 re-recording of this on Edison as well. 

The last one I have in my immediate reach at the moment is a recording with Will F. Denny on Edison. Here's Denny's "Go 'Way Back and Sit Down" from 1901. This recording is also a great piece of Rag-Time by in many respects, and it has many of those lost traits that were on the recording of "Mister Johnson Turn Me Loose", some of those fifths, and stiffness. Banta was able to play pretty loosely by 1902 and 1903(take the later recording of "Medley of Coon Songs" with Golden for example), but earlier on, was getting used to the Rag-Time feel, though he really did have it in him, as we can hear recordings like these listed here that are great pieces of Rag-Time regardless of the stiffness. The stiffness could not easily be noticed by someone not really listening closely, as it's pretty easy to miss most of the time. 

The fifths paired with "dotted" syncopation are really what distinguish Banta's playing, and they are not just heard on Edison's, as he's in that picture for proof, they are also heard on many Victors from the same time as well. There are other recordings made for Edison and Victor that would be good examples, but these main four are what I will stick with for now. This style would definitely suit Banta for his background, regardless of the fact that he was trained or not, it fits him for the place that he grew up, and that he came into the Rag-Time fad later, he was no pioneer in this matter, even if he worked with Vess Ossman before he was a regular recording artist. 



Now for Fred. Hylands.
Hylands posed with the Columbia orchestra, at the piano in Columbia's "big room" in  mid-1898. 


Hylands in Columbia's exhibition room in August-September 1898. 

Hylands is still a controversial figure with pianist identification, as I still haven't been able to prove myself of my theory that Hylands was at Columbia for longer than just the entirety of 1898.  It's hard to know about Hylands, as the only suspicion that got my interest sparked in him was the amount of times he was mentioned in The Phonoscope, as that's where the two pictures above came from(he's not identified in the first one, but as we can see, it's most certainly the same figure, just one image has him with more stately posture). 

This character's background says everything about his style. He's a fascinating character, which is of much contrast to Banta. He was born in Indiana, and raised in Indiana as well. His first instrument was the fiddle, and he began to play the thing at about the age of 10, learning who knows what when be began. It's likely, considering his location, that he was playing old songs from the Appalachians and even precursors to Rag-Time. By age 12, he was beginning to play piano, and learning how to rather quick, possibly being self-taught in reading music. Not long after he began at the piano, his parents took notice of Fred's and Etta's talent, and decided to have them become performers. They traveled around the Fort Wayne area, and occasionally went into northwestern Ohio. By 1887, Fred was working alongside his father at a grocery store/saloon, as well as playing some music there on occasion. In 1893, he and the family moved out to Chicago for the world's fair, and after the fair, they remained there for a few more years. Almost as soon as Fred got there, he was working in local vaudeville houses, and learning the newest underground fad of the "rag", or in those days called "jig-piano". He learned from the best, watching Ben R. Harney play, black professors who came to the fair, and other well-known pianists in the local saloon communities. By 1896, he was becoming known as a "Rag" pianist by playing syncopated music, as his earliest published piece was from 1896 and it already anticipated the big "rag time" fad soon to come with strange melodic improvisations and syncopated rhythms. in early 1897, he was out in New York performing at various theaters on 14th street, and earning his fame as a music director and and authentic "rag time" professor from Chicago.  it took until the middle of 1897 for local record companies to decide that they needed a new pianist, in this case, especially Columbia.  
Around September 1897, Hylands was beginning to be used as a substitute pianist in their studio, as by the end of 1897, much more often very ragged and "hot" playing can be heard on their records, in a style that is the polar opposite to the pianists there before. 

Picking four recordings with the style described in the section above is a little more complicated than picking some for Banta's style, because there are many more examples of the unique style from late-1897 to as late as 1905. 

The first example is a record by George W. Johnson from early or mid 1898. It has one of the most ragged accompaniments I have ever heard on any brown wax cylinder, and it has some even more strange distinctions adding on to the uniform syncopation. Here's one of Johnson's many takes of "The Laughing Song" from 1898. The playing on this very unique, and it's very much different in feel and syncopation style than the previous style exhibited, and it sounds much more natural and not stiff at all, unlike the last ones. It's got many distinctly characteristics, such as the syncopation pattern throughout the record, and at the very end, also the bass pattern in the solo after the first chorus, which is something I have only heard on Columbia records. The main thing to take away from the style on this is that there is not only heavily syncopated improvisations here, but also the one quick bass thing at 0:59-1:00 or so, that little attribute is very important to this style. 

This next one is a popular take by Billy Golden from 1899, a year after the last one. Here's Billy Golden's 1899 take of "Turkey in the Straw". Now the first thing to be said here is that it's a dramatic contrast to the 1897 take of this by Golden on Edison. The first thing to note is that same syncopation that was on the last one, the same natural "feel", and those bass patterns(and lots of them...). This record most certainly has the same pianist on it as the last one, and they were recorded pretty far away from each other date wise. Another important attribute to this style is the walking broken octaves, which is very strange to hear, but was played often in this style heard on Columbia records from this time. Those walking bass octaves are heard several times on this Golden recording. That ending pattern is also something that is heard only on Columbia's, as it can be heard at the end of this 1903 record here, and the walking bass octaves can be heard at about 1:08 on this 1905 record here. All of these are also in that same style, just configured a little differently, but with the same distinctions. 
This next recording is a fantastic rarity by J. R. Johnson and Bob Cole, who were members of the "Frogs" Club, which included Jim Europe, Bert Williams, and George Walker. This one is actually two takes recorded on the same day in 1902. Here's one of the takes, and then for the other one. There are so many strange things in the piano accompaniment on these records, but most of the same attributes from earlier are present on these takes. One thing that is heard often on both of these takes that I did not mention is the swift trills of thirty-second notes in the intro and in the first verse. This attribute was also part of this style that was on Columbia records, you might have already heard it on the records just above, as every one of these records has it somewhere, such as this Cal Stewart rarity from 1905(it's the fourth thing listed on the page). This Collins record shows off all of the walking bass octaves that could fit in every place, much like this 1899 record here(music begins at 6 minutes...). The mix of "dotted" notes with very syncopated notes is also part of this style as well, and these two Collins takes exhibit it in perfect harmony. 

This final one is actually a Zon-O-phone from early 1903, also by Collins. Here's his Zon-O-phone of "Bill Bailey". This record almost exhibits every thing that was explained in the records above, but it gets one aspect across that very few of these other ones did. This one shows off the "feel" that I mean better than any of these records so far. This record exhibits many Columbia pianist specific traits, especially the syncopation, which is pretty much identical rhythmically to that of this 1898 cylinder here, and also at the solos on this 1901 record here, as well as most of the other records in this section listed. That quick run of right hand octaves beginning at the second chorus at 1:30 is also the same thing as some of the improvisations on this 1902 record here






You may have noticed that I did not at all use Hylands' name in any of these examples and explanations. The only reason I did that is to save all of that for this section of the evidence. I now have to tie the style to Hylands in a logistical way. Do all of these attributes match the background that Hylands had?

Yes. 

Why? Well, if you know anything about how the earliest published rags were written, you might have noticed that all of the composers of these tunes came from Chicago for the most part, Kentucky, Ohio, or Indiana. 
Just for full proof of the similarity, here are some examples:
 Max Hoffman's "Rag Medley" of 1897

Ben Harney's "Mister Johnson Turn Me Loose" from 1896

Max Hoffman's "Ragtown Rags" from 1898 

I know this is a lot later, but it's from rural Indiana, and it's in the same style, "The Stop Rag" from 1913.

Theodore Northrup's "Louisiana Rag" from 1896(published in Chicago in 1897)

Robert S. Roberts' "A Bundle of Rags" from 1897(published in Ohio!)
(this one even has the rare added bonus of left hand melodies like from the records!)

Robert S. Roberts' "Pride of Bucktown" from 1897

even really early Rag pieces exhibit this style to a high extent, such as:
Carl Lexhoizt's "The Ebony Funeral" from 1894
and even
F. Neddermeyer's "Opelika Cake Walk" from 1892


All of these published Rags exhibit much of the style that I spoke of above, and with the background Hylands had, that style would almost certainly be his. If you're looking for a published composer of early rags that has a writing style the most similar to Hylands' style, Max Hoffman is one, Ben Harney is another and actually, Robert S. Roberts is the closest to Hylands' style as far as I have come with this. His "Bundle of Rags" is very very accurate to Hylands' style on late-1890's Columbia records. This style of Rags did not last very far into the 20th century sadly, as by 1905-1906(with a few exceptions like "Pickles and Peppers" and others) that very syncopated and playful style began to fade, and didn't last throughout the rest of the Rag-Time era. 



To many scholars I have spoken with, this style of playing(Banta's and especially Hylands') is a much more real representation of Rag-Time, and what it was actually supposed to sound like. You may disagree with me you Joplin lovers, but only Joplin's early works were in this style in any sort of way, but as time went onward, that began to fade away from his compositions. 

I will soon do a post on Edward Issler's style and Gaisberg's as well, but I will have to do more studying of their playing and backgrounds in order for that to happen...



Hope you enjoyed this! 
















Wednesday, June 22, 2016

Irony of Dan Quinn and more record slip observations

Sorry it's been a few days, I've been dealing with some important doings within the last week, and I cannot really share everything with everyone. Eventually, I'll be able to spread the treasure trove of information I have gathered over the last few days. The time will come. 

Anyway, within these eventful few days, I have listened to some fascinating recordings, none of which I will share just yet, but I will say some of the strange things I observed from these records. One of these things is the irony that surrounds Dan W. Quinn's notorious repertoire. 
We know of Quinn being the one who recorded "Glorious Beer", and "The Streets of Cairo", which were romping popular songs of the mid and late-1890's. If you know anything about the "Midway" at the Chicago world's fair of 1893, you certainly have heard of the "Hoochie Coochie" craze that originated from this affair. It was a scandalous dance that imitated popular dances of the middle east, and was danced originally at the fair by authentic Arabian dancers. As expected somewhat, the song "Streets of Cairo" was about a country girl going out to the place out in Coney Island with the same name. This song also popularized that "oriental" motif in music that is still often used not so politically correct nowadays in reference to Egyptian or middle eastern context. This motif I mean can be heard on this 1898 cylinder here, toward the end.
Now to further this "Streets of Cairo" tune, the lyrics to the second verse are really interesting: 

She was engaged,
as a picture for to pose.
To appear each night,
in abbreviated clothes.
All the dudes were in a flurrie, 
for to catch her they did hurry.
One who caught her now is sorry,
poor little maid. 

The song in its entirety is really great, especially since it's pretty raunchy for 1895, similar to Russell Hunting's sense of humor from the same time! 

Now for the irony. We know of Dan Quinn:
Yes indeed. 
Quinn was part of the "Columbia Clan" in the late-1890's, though he must have had some shame in being part of this group's despicable doings of 1899 and 1900. Of that we know is true, as he certainly would have denied that sort of thing if he was asked about it, according to what he said to Jim Walsh in his letters. The irony of Quinn is that he was a devout Christian, yet he followed the crowd at Columbia who went against most of his good beliefs. The most ironic of these being that he was a strong member of the temperance movement. While this is admirable, it's ironic since he was known for singing "Glorious Beer", and other popular songs about the liquor habit, particularly many of his Irish songs(go figure...). I can always imagine Quinn in a situation much like this one: 
(Drawn by the author)
Quinn would give a scowl to any of his drunk friends, though here, it be Hylands. 
He did contradict himself a little bit when writing to Jim Walsh in the 1930's, as he said that he was not too fond of comic songs, and thought of them as just frivolous and unnecessary, and that he preferred hymns and religious songs.  That is very strange, from the first time I read that, it did not seem true to me. He sang literally every comic song that was popular in the 1890's, and he learned everything that was new, since he was a sight-reader. How ironic that all is, since he considered himself a good Christian family man in the letters to Jim Walsh. This must also have been why he god along so well with Frank P. Banta, since they were men of the same vein and respect. He was most likely one of those recording stars who were friends of Russell Hunting, and wholly disliked his "smut" cylinder idea in 1892. That would say a whole lot in this irony. All of this might mean that Quinn was a little more complicated than we've been led to believe, as his writings to Walsh are a mix of truths and fixed tales. 



Now for the second part of this post. Record slips for brown waxes are a mixed bag usually, and most of the time they don't even come with one. I have explained before that Edison's record slips all look the same, and when one is seen, a specific time frame can easily be assigned to it. The thing about Columbia's is that none of them looked the same, with varying styles, prints, colours, and means of identification. I saw another one within the last few days, and found it very strange. It was a Columbia slip of course, with a similar format to others, but very different in appearance. It had the record number written in faded pencil at the very top. This is pretty much the order:

7375 -V

Vocal Solo
By 
Len Spencer.

Warmest 
Baby. 

It was very strange, as Spencer wrote the title(well, half of it that is...), in his pretty hand of ink. It was written rather quick though, as though he was rushed to get to another take or record. Also, I noticed that the ink was smeared as well, which is really funny, just to think that Spencer probably had to shake out his hand and pen to write out the title. it's so funny, because unlike other slips I have seen, this one really gave a great image of Spencer actually signing it. There was this other slip that I used on this blog, one of these in fact:
 I mean the one in the center and on the right, as they were both signed hastily by Quinn. 
The middle one is a Columbia, though it looks very different from the one I saw recently. The shortened title is the same though, and is still funny that they did that. Just to prove that Quinn signed the two slips, here's an example:


Yep. That's the same signature alright, this one is just not rushed like the other ones. 
Some of the other record slips I saw had a similar format to the Columbia's above, and it seems that having the recording engineer identified was very important to the identification of the records. It's really frustrating that the accompanist didn't sign the slips. Most of the time, they easily could have, it was just not found important to the engineers for some reason. The exact dates are stamped on many of the slips I have seen, which does help me understand to some extent what months Hylands just happened to be at Columbia, and as I see more of them, I will hopefully be able to figure out what months and weeks exactly in 1899 that Hylands was in their studio. It's frustrating how they didn't put exact dates on Columbia slips in 1897 and 1898, that would really be helpful then. 1899 will just be a place to start. 


I will speak more of these discoveries in the future, for now that's all I have. More will come. 


Hope you enjoyed this! 













Friday, June 17, 2016

More on the Mystery cylinder

After some brief comment section discussion this morning and telephone conversation last evening, it would seem that this mystery cylinder from my last post has some more interesting theories about it. After listening to this cylinder many times, it would seem that this cylinder might be the inevitable possibility that I spoke of yesterday. Of the many possible theories, this cylinder could be an exhibition souvenir, which would date it to 1898 exactly, and that would make sense considering the song the was recorded, and the musicians possibly involved. 

Here's the cylinder just to refresh:

It's still very strange to me, as there's so many things that aren't right about this cylinder. The balance is really awful on it, the room sounds very strange and unusual for recording, and the announcer is very far away. Also, the fact that there isn't any identification of a company anywhere is also very weird. It really sounds like the setup seen in these two pictures: 

The setup is a little harder to see in the first picture, but it's the same as is in the latter. It's just very strange and amazing that any sort of exhibition-made cylinder would survive, but anything is possible. I have held records from this period in my hands that aren't supposed to exist, so if that just happens to be what this cylinder is, well, there ya go! 
The balance of the piano sounds like it is in the second picture just above, as it's not on the same side as it usually would be at Columbia. Usually, if you're in the perspective of the horn(s), the piano would be left, with it tilted at an angle similar to the picture just above, just reversed. The balance on this record sounds like it is just above, with the piano on the right and tilted the other way, also higher up off the ground. Hylands is at least four feet from the floor in the picture above, whereas in usual sessions, he would be at about three feet up. 

It must be noted that the announcer is at least six or seven feet away from the horns, which is very far away for an announcer, and that the piano is much louder than the announcement, which is very strange. 
I now have the feeling that Hylands might be at that piano, and the only reason is because of how pushy the rhythm is in that odd minor section(which is in none of the other 1890's recordings of this song...), and also by the overall rhythm, which is too good for it to be Fred Gaisberg. It has a sort of Hylands "feel" to it, even if it's the farthest thing from Rag-Time. 

The rhythm at the minor section of this is really where that "feel" comes through very well, and the sound of the piano is very "1890's", as pianos in studios after 1900 just didn't have that sound for some reason. This record has a very distinctly Columbia sound, and does not at all sound like an Edison cylinder to me. 
The slight fading at the end of the cylinder also makes me think it's a Columbia of some kind, as Tom Clark often did that fading thing at the end of his cornet solos with the Columbia orchestra in the late-1890's, such as on their 1898 takes of "Schubert's Serenade". Notice! The sound of the piano on the takes, it's similar to the mystery cylinder, though it's more so on the second one listed. 

Well, there's not much more I can say here, but I am still looking out for some guesses! This is really an interesting and strange recording, that maybe we will get to the bottom of it some day! 



Hope you enjoyed this! 



Thursday, June 16, 2016

Mentioning of Hylands by Jim Walsh, and a mystery cylinder

Well, from what I was sent this morning by Charlie Judkins, it would seem that Jim Walsh mentioned Hylands a few times. FINALLY! It's about time we see that he mentioned Hylands...
I wanted to use this picture in my last post, but anyway, here you go:
If you read the "whip" analogy I used in my last post about Hylands at Hylands Spencer and Yeager, this makes full sense. 
I just saw this when I thought about that. It's kind of awful, but it's funny. 
Since that picture just above is of Hylands, it fits the subject of this post to a high degree. 
It would seem that what Jack Stanley told me was true, Walsh did indeed know about Hylands being a pianist and publisher, but not much more, as there was nothing to be done in regards to Hylands when he was researching all these recording stars. As, by the 1960's, when he wrote these articles that mentioned him, most of Hylands' closest relatives were long gone. It was only his nieces and nephews who were still living by 1955 and 1962. His wife was long gone by then, and all those who worked with him were as well(they all died off in the 1930's and 1940's), Billy Murray was the last surviving recording star to have worked with Hylands in Columbia's studio. It's strange to think, but it's true. Walsh mentions Hylands in the context of his publishing firm ventures, as he was following the flow of The Phonoscope editions that mention him, probably just like this: 
(this is some of them in order)
(May, 1898)
(July, 1898 still makes me laugh...)
(also July 1898)
(this goes with that exhibition picture I use so often, which is from September 1898)
(Also September 1898)
(February 1899)
(March, 1899)
(Also March, 1899)


(May, 1900)

And so on, you get the point. Hylands was mentioned in many Phonoscope issues from 1898 to 1900, as he was a first-class character and eccentric at Columbia who rose his way up rather quick, just by becoming a publisher. He had more activity in The Phonoscope than many other famous recording stars did, just look through their issues, and you'll be surprised. 
Walsh noted all of the obvious sections, including all of the ones above, save for that one with the quote that we all know of. I guess it's because Hylands throwing out a narcissistic compliant means nothing to a researcher looking for information on other recording stars.
It's still unfortunate that Walsh didn't bother to dig deeper into Hylands to eventually do an article on him, but as I've said before, Walsh only cared about the singers and performers, not many accompanists made it into his articles, though Banta was mentioned often. Banta was a special case though, and we know why. 
I still wonder if it was a lack of information about Hylands or if it was that the surviving artists who were interviewed speaking of him in a not-so-easy way. It was probably a mix of both, since there weren't many resources out there to find him,  and he already spoke to the last surviving studio stars and workers who would have worked often with Hylands. It's really great to see Hylands mentioned in Walsh's articles anywhere, as it gives this whole Hylands thing much more credibility, as Walsh's writings are the go-to place for information about any of these recording artists. 






Now to change the subject slightly, just as I was writing the post, a very interesting record was sent to me. It's very mysterious, so some analyzing needs to be done to think it through. It's a very strange recording, with no company attached to it, and no performers either. Of course when a cylinder like this comes by, anything is possible! 

Before I dig into it, here's the record:
http://cylinders.library.ucsb.edu/search.php?queryType=@attr+1=1020&num=1&start=1&query=cylinder5303
Very strange indeed. 
There's no information given, so it doesn't help, though from what I can hear, it sounds like an "off-label" Columbia, maybe a pirated one? Now if it's affiliated with Columbia in any way, the Cornetist is probably Tom Clark or David Dana. The Clarinetist is probably William Tuson more than anyone. I am not usually one who can tell tones apart in wind instruments, but that Clarinet playing is definitely Tuson. It sounds like the piano gives away some hints. 
That piano sounds a whole lot like Columbia's awful out-of-tune piano of 1897, of which you can hear examples here: 
http://cylinders.library.ucsb.edu/search.php?queryType=@attr+1=1020&num=1&start=1&query=cylinder5303
(do excuse the home recording, most of what needs to be heard is here.)

http://cylinders.library.ucsb.edu/search.php?queryType=@attr+1=1020&num=1&start=1&query=cylinder7959

http://cylinders.library.ucsb.edu/search.php?queryType=@attr+1=1020&num=1&start=1&query=cylinder9969

As I have said, the cause for the awfully out-of-tune piano likely came from Len Spencer flipping the thing over in earlier 1897, as reported in The Phonoscope
Yep.(from the May, 1897 issue of you know what)
That^^ is why Columbia's piano sounded so damn awful for several months of 1897, thanks Len! 

One of the theories I have about this cylinder is that it was probably a pirated Columbia, or something along those lines, and that it was recorded in one of Columbia's recording rooms at 27th and Broadway. It sounds like it might be that room: 
But! Something about it makes me think it's the inevitable. Their exhibition hall! Seen below:
The room sounds very large and tall, more so than their upstairs room(in the orchestra picture). It be strange to think that this mysterious cylinder was recorded in their exhibition hall, but there's a possibility. I'm not saying that it's a cylinder souvenir from an exhibition(that would be amazing though!), but something's strangely familiar with the sound of that piano paired with that room. 
If more information was listed about it, then I could probably jump to pianist conclusions, but there's no way to do that here. The pianist has the power and heavy hands of Hylands when he played their awful piano early on in his term, but there's no reason it can't be Edward Issler either. Also, it must be noted that the announcer on Tom Clark's "Schubert's Serenade" is the same as on this mystery cylinder. 

**If you have any guesses as to what you think that cylinder is, make comments on this post! I'd love to read your guesses!**


Hope you enjoyed this! 






Wednesday, June 15, 2016

The "Columbia Clan" examined and defined

The "Columbia Clan" is the name I've given the talent staff at the Columbia phonograph Company from 1897-1903. It is essentially a metaphor for the staff being like a gang who went out in a group, and wouldn't let in new members very easily. It is sometimes hard to define who was part of this so-called "clan" but there are some definite members in there. What was unique about Columbia is that they had created a bond between the staff that Edison never did, and it was all because of the management. Walter Miller at Edison was at least musical, but was much more opposed to the volunteering and democratic ways of Edward Easton's Columbia. The democratic atmosphere was well-promoted at Columbia, as this is why they had certain artists perform at those Waldorf dinners that the Eastons's held, it was done by volunteering, not by assignment, like it would be at Edison. 

In this "clan" here would be a few definite members:
Spencer

Gaskin.
Roger Harding.
J. W. Myers 
and of course,
Fred Hylands. 

There would also be Burt Green here, though he was not a Columbia recording artist, he still was involved with much of Hylands' shenanigans of 1899-1900, which immediately puts him in this group. Anyone who was involved with Hylands, Spencer and Yeager is part of this group, as it really established in some way that there was a sort of "clan" of Columbia artists, and with this, Hylands was determined to become the master of this group. Hylands wanted to be the "ringmaster", or the man with the whip, which for a short time, he actually was! It's very weird to think that the accompanist became the master of the music at Columbia in 1899, but it did essentially happen if you think about it. 
Hylands had all the music they recorded, and he was able to publish anything that the recording artists wrote, he kept much of their mail at his house, and he housed them ofttimes, therefore being the "landlord" to them(though it would be his father dealing with the money, Fred would just collect it from them)

The true leader of this "clan" was Len Spencer without a doubt, since he began forming friendships with other recording artists in 1892. It first started with Russell Hunting, who was forming his own tag team of Columbia workers, which, believe it or not, included this chap:
Victor Emerson. 
Russell Hunting was the founder of this Columbia clan, as he would be expected to have done this in the first place. Later in 1892, this small group included Len Spencer, Frank Dorian, and Billy Golden. The "clan" of 1892 to 1896 was much more of a club rather than a group of friends, as later on, it became a group that not everyone approved of, which is why many Columbia artists that one would expect to be there weren't. Emerson was kicked out of this group when he became the studio and music manager in 1897, and especially when he became that lame and tone-deaf manager he was in 1898 and 1899. With the entrance of Fred Hylands in late-1897, the mindset and musical output at Columbia changed quick. Since Rag-Time was all the rage, they needed Hylands at the time they hired him, to compete with that other pianist who played "rag time" over at Edison. 

The signing of the big contract in 1898 also led to a short time of exclusive Columbia artists, furthering a sort of "clan" created by the staff. It left many artists stuck at Columbia until after 1900, including Len Spencer, Billy Golden, George Gaskin, and Steve Porter. Some "Columbia clan" members went off to make some Edison cylinders in 1899, like Roger Harding, Vess Ossman, Will F. Denny, and Dan Quinn. Quinn in many respects, was more fit in the Edison staff, as he did not approve of much of the activity that the Columbia talent went off doing, though he approved of Hylands' tantalizing advertisements of Quinn on his sheet music, that was about it. 
This group travelled as one often, and performed as one, from knowing that Len Spencer and Harry Yeager managed most of the shows they did in 1899, it makes sense that Hylands Spencer and Yeager was the core of this "clan". It took all of 1898 for this to happen, as in that year Hylands was not really showing his true colours yet, as it was from that year that we get this here: 
Yes indeed. He was still learning the place by September 1898. 

Between September 1898 and March 1899, Hylands was working the system under Vic Emerson to begin his publishing firm, which he did in December of 1898, but it was only done to finally publish his "The Darkey Volunteer". 

This "clan" began to split after 1901, as they still made minstrel records in 1901 to 1903, but they weren't exactly of the same novelty and jollity than the ones of the brown wax era had been. Also the bitterness Hylands and Spencer had toward each other after October-November 1900 was another issue, since they were essentially the "alpha dogs" of the clan, and if they couldn't get along with each other, than the clan would crack and break up. Regardless, the 1899 members of the "Columbia Clan" still remained friends after it officially dissipated by 1903. Part of this breaking up of the "clan" was Charles Prince taking over the Columbia orchestra, which meant that Tom Clark was no longer a Columbia employee, which also happened in 1903. Charles Prince was not a "clan" member, and wanted to start his own Columbia orchestra, which meant dropping many of the great old soloists under Edward Issler, and throwing Hylands out of many regular sessions. Prince saw the future of record-making, with the orchestra accompaniment era just beginning, he was determined to make recording not as exclusive and hidden to most people. Most of the original "clan" members still worked at Columbia, but they didn't do all of those "descriptive selections" and weren't paired in groups on records behind Fred Hylands like they used to be.  
It was also a big loss to the "clan" in 1901 when Roger Harding died, as he was a big part of the group, and was essentially "second fiddle" at Hylands Spencer and Yeager, so his death caused more of the clan to split after that. Steve Porter  and Russell Hunting going abroad also contributed to this as well. 

Before I close out this post, here are a few records done in groups by "Columbia Clan" members during their existence:

This one features three clan members, Len spencer, Roger Harding, and Fred Hylands. 

This one features four clan members, Len Spencer, Steve Porter, Roger Harding, and Fred Hylands.(the piano sounds great on this!)

This one features five clan members, Len Spencer, Harry Spencer, George Gaskin, Fred Hylands, and Pete LaMaire. 

I hope I've made it clear that Len Spencer was the leader of this "clan". It should make more sense when seeing their records and hearing them, since he's on all of them. 


Hope you enjoyed this!