A Forest of 'Poincianas'

Before anyone inquires, that is a poinciana at left, a colorful tree that is indigenous to Madagascar but found in many tropical and semi-tropical locations. For our purposes, "Poinciana" also is a humid song that was popular in the 1940s into the 50s, and even later.

The sheet music reads "Poinciana (Song of the Tree)," and record labels will tell you the authors were Nat Simon and Buddy Bernier. In reality it is a traditional Cuban tune adapted in 1936 into a popular song, "La canción del árbol," with Spanish lyrics by Manuel Lliso.

The tropical Bing

Today we'll explore eight varied interpretations of the Americanized "Poinciana" - vocals, exotica, jazz and R&B. (I haven't found a recording of  "La canción del árbol," unfortunately.) Why "Poinciana"? It's a favorite of mine.

The Simon-Bernier version was published as far back as 1936, but the first recorded version I've found is a 1942 instrumental by David Rose. But our journey will begin, as many do around here, with Bing Crosby, who was the first to have a hit with "Poinciana," in 1943. Even before Bing begins singing, you will note that John Scott Trotter has identified the song as a boléro, and has patterned the accompaniment after Maurice Ravel's famous composition of that name In the verse, Bing's languid singing, in a higher register than usual, contrasts well with the rat-a-tat of the accompaniment. The chorus is more conventional.

Bing's Decca record is something of a scarce item. It has been reissued on CD a few times, but not nearly as often as its 78 flip side, "San Fernando Valley," which was a huge hit. This could be because "Poinciana" was not especially well recorded or processed.

Benny Carter

It took very little time for other artists to take note of the song. Shortly after Bing's recording, Benny Carter took a big band into a studio for an early Capitol session. The song is a showcase for his fluid alto saxophone and assertive band. There is no Ravel "rat-a-tat."

Another big band - a very big one, with strings and all - took up the song the next year. It was Capt. Glenn Miller and the Army Air Force Training Command Orchestra, who performed an elaborate Jerry Gray arrangement in what I believe to be a May 1944 broadcast, which has excellent sound.

Sgt. Johnny Desmond

Gray's chart is certainly more Miller than Ravel, with the brass's characteristic "boo-wah" effects prominent in the opening chorus. The performance segues into a romantic vocal by the young Johnny Desmond, backed up by the Crew Chiefs. Desmond is relatively convincing with Bernier's melodramatic lyrics: "Somehow I feel the jungle heat / Within me, there grows a rhythmic savage beat." He looks more stiff than savage at right.

Miller's recording is longer than the norm of the time, coming in at about five minutes. So too was the next interpretation, that of mood music maestro Andre Kostelanetz. He recognized the song as a prime piece of exotica, and packaged it into a Columbia album called Exotic Music, along with "Flamingo," a hit for Duke Ellington, "Song of India," a hit for Tommy Dorsey, and Cyril Scott's "Lotus Land" from 1905. You can hear the whole album via my friend Lee's blog.

My own introduction to "Poinciana" came several decades ago via a copy of Frank Sinatra's 1946 version with the usual superb backing from Axel Stordahl, who arranged almost all of the Voice's records until said Voice joined Capitol. Stordahl was very skilled, and his best work was done with Frank. Their "Poinciana" is outstanding, with Stordahl's sophisticated chart perfectly underpinning the intensely romantic vocal.

Frank Sinatra and Axel Stordahl

One of Sinatra's many rivals was the excellent Alan Dale, who didn't have a huge career but was nonetheless talented. He recorded "Poinciana" in 1948 for Bob Thiele's high-class but short-lived Signature label, backed by Ray Bloch. Dale's entrance blares, but the rest of the performance is fine. His singing is more Bing than Frank, and perhaps closest to the extroverted Don Cornell of Sammy Kaye's band.

Lynn Hope

"Poinciana" continued to appeal to both singers and bandleaders at mid-century. R&B saxophonist Lynn Hope did it for the small Premium label in 1950. His idea of the song was a calypso, and in that guise it's very listenable.

"Poinciana" inevitably became a subject of interest to the exotica mavens of the 1950s, inspiring recordings by Esquivel, Les Baxter, Arthur Lyman and today's featured artist, Tak Shindo, an American arranger-composer who combined American and Asian influences in his music.

The Shindo selection comes from his 1960 LP Brass and Bamboo, done for Capitol. The recording jumbles all types of effects into a captivating trip to another land - several of them, in fact.

These recordings were cleaned up from my collection and that of the Internet Archive folks.

LINK

A Public Health Push from Frank and Dinah

One of the most unusual recordings in Frank Sinatra's lengthy catalog is 1946's "It's All Up to You," a duet with Dinah Shore. Unlike the standard "My Romance," which they recorded at the same November session, "It's All Up to You" was a public service announcement in music - a plea to the citizens of North Carolina to get behind public health measures.

The single was part of a larger effort to improve the health of the state's citizens. The genesis of the campaign was North Carolina's poor record in providing manpower for the Second World War. About half the state's draftees were rejected for medical reasons. Clearly much more needed to be spent on public health, and the Frank-Dinah duet was designed to support that drive. (The download has an outline of the state's "Good Health Plan.")

Sheet music cover

Heading up the musical part of the campaign was bandleader and North Carolina native Kay Kyser. He enlisted the support of his label, Columbia, who offered the services of Sinatra and Shore. Also on board were frequent Frank songwriters Jule Styne and Sammy Cahn. Styne's tune is catchy, and Cahn's lyrics were unusual in his catalogue. It certainly was the only time he had Sinatra tout the wonders of "clinics where the poor can go for moderate fees."

The record was only distributed in North Carolina, and the original single (label above) is something of a rare bird. The song was included in Columbia's Sinatra box set in the 90s, but this transfer is from a copy of the 78 found on Internet Archive. 

I was surprised to see that the label attributes the backing to Kyser. The aural evidence says it's Sinatra's regular arranger-conductor Axel Stordahl, and the Sinatra sessionography supports that.

The flip side of "It's All Up to You" was a genuine Kyser recording. Appropriately, it's his rendition of "Carolina in the Morning," with a vocal by Gloria Wood and the Campus Kids. After consulting Nigel Burlinson's Kyser discography, it appears to me that this title was not otherwise released.

Music from 'Lady in the Dark' - But Not by Kurt Weill

The Kurt Weill-Ira Gershwin-Moss Hart musical Lady in the Dark was a major hit on Broadway in 1941. Hollywood, as it usually did, made plans for a film version, and then, as it also usually did, began making changes. One of the main modifications was to toss out most of the famous score. Very little "My Ship" and "This Is New." No "Tschaikowsky" (no Danny Kaye either). "The Saga of Jenny" and "Girl of the Moment" did remain.

Paramount did add some non-Weill music to its 1944 release, however. This post concerns the few numbers from the film that came out on commercial records. It is a companion to a post on my main blog that compiles the original recordings from the Broadway Lady in the Dark.

"Suddenly It's Spring"

The most important piece of music written for the film is "Suddenly It's Spring," a wonderful song by leading tunesmiths Johnny Burke and Jimmy Van Heusen, who were most often found laboring on Bing Crosby's musicals. (They would win an Academy Award for "Swinging on a Star" from Going My Way that same year.)

Ginny Simms

Some record companies got behind "Suddenly It's Spring" - but not as many as you might think. Part of the problem was the ongoing musicians' strike, which was still in force for the biggest record labels in 1944. One company affected was Columbia; while it did record "Suddenly It's Spring" with Ginny Simms, it was with choral backing rather than orchestra. Her version is in the download. She aims to convey deep feeling, but ends up making this optimistic song ("You look at me / And suddenly it's spring") sound mournful.

One of the smaller companies that had made peace with the union also took up the song. HIT records, a budget label, enlisted Blue Barron's sweet band to record "Suddenly It's Spring" with the ever-chipper Tommy Ryan on vocals. The long-time Sammy Kaye vocalist had gone out on his own a few years before, and by 1944 was fronting the Barron ensemble for its leader, who was in uniform. On this record, you will hear Ryan introducing himself - it was common among such bands for the leader to announce the singer.

Technically, both Simms and Ryan do well by the song, which has a tricky release. I've included an aircheck by Frank Sinatra, where that great singer has trouble with the bridge on its second go-round. Nonetheless, only Sinatra's ecstatic version reveals the song's full stature. Too bad The Voice never did a commercial recording. The backing on the aircheck is almost certainly by Axel Stordahl.

"A Message for Liza"

The other music from Lady in the Dark to make it to record was, surprisingly, a bit of the movie score done by music director Robert Emmett Dolan. This music somehow came to the attention of Leopold Stokowski, who decided to record it in an August 1946 session with the Hollywood Bowl Symphony Orchestra, which he had founded the year before. The delightfully lush orchestral miniature is called "A Message for Liza" on the label and "Waltz" or "Glamour Waltz" in the discographies. It is probably what IMDb calls "Artist's Waltz." The orchestration is possibly by Robert Russell Bennett, who worked on the film.

Bonus Stoki silliness

I've also included the other side of the Stokowski 78, although it has nothing to do with Lady in the Dark. It is Brahms' Hungarian Dance No. 1 - but wait, what is different here? Stoki has thrown out the composer's orchestration, and substituted his own, complete with prominent xylophone and wild tempo changes that would have challenged even the most adept Hungarian dance troupe. The result sounds like Liszt at his most garish - and maybe that was the idea. The whole thing somehow reminds me of the Bugs Bunny parody of Stokowski conducting at the Hollywood Bowl - minus the tenor, of course.

Most of these recordings were found amidst the huge pile of stuff that is the Internet Archive, and remastered for your listening pleasure. The Sinatra came from a long-ago bootleg.

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