So much musical wealth bursts from the grooves of Mosaic’s 11-CD set of jazz V-Discs that you’ll be forgiven for forgetting that the 263 sides presented herein are but a fraction of what was offered during the V-Disc era. But what’s here has been carefully chosen to fill those discs with the best small-group jazz that you were likely to hear in New York and, to a lesser extent, Los Angeles between 1943 and 1948.
The artists alone should inspire you to reach for your wallet. They include Louis Armstrong (briefly), Jack Teagarden, Nat King Cole, an Eddie Condon unit, Bud Freeman, Hot Lips Page, Teddy Wilson, Art Tatum, Fats Waller, Bobby Hackett, Meade “Lux” Lewis, Hazel Scott, André Previn (wearing his jazz hat, of course), John Kirby, Woody Herman, Bob Haggart, Gene Krupa, Red Norvo, and Lennie Tristano. Vocalists include Martha Tilton, Connee Boswell, Jo Stafford, Mildred Bailey, and Ella Fitzgerald. A charming bonus is that, per the V-Disc tradition, many of the session leaders introduce one or more of their discs, although that task also was jobbed out to such other showbiz talent as Eddie “Rochester” Anderson, Phil Harris, and Red Skelton.
What’s extra significant about the first year of V-Disc sessions was that no commercial recordings were being made in the US at that time, a story that makes some of these discs all the more special.
Lt. Robert Vincent, a sound engineer working in the Army Special Services Division, suggested to the War Department that music should be offered to overseas military personnel. He was given the go-ahead in July, 1943, and the first batch of V-Discs was pressed (in RCA Victor’s Camden plant) and shipped by the beginning of October. Those were drawn from already-recorded sessions—broadcast transcriptions and commercial releases—but Vincent believed that specially recorded titles would have even more appeal. What stood in the way was that recording ban, called in August 1942 by Musicians’ Union president James Petrillo. It wouldn’t be settled until RCA and Columbia agreed to new royalty terms in November 1944.
Vincent was able to tap into the otherwise heartless Petrillo’s patriotic sensibility, for on October 27, 1943, the union leader agreed to let his musicians to make V-Disc, recordings, waiving all fees and royalties, provided the resulting records were destroyed after the war, never to be returned to the US.
And it’s music from those specially recorded sessions that comprise this Mosaic set. We’re left to puzzle the union membership or fealty of some of the musicians, because the earliest sessions pre-date that Petrillo agreement date. We have Teddy Wilson in the V-Disc studio on August 13, 1943, Hazel Scott recording two weeks later, and, poignantly, Fats Waller laying down a series of increasingly lubricated tracks on September 16—his last studio recordings before his death in December of that year.
In all, including classical, pop songs, country, novelty, and more, over 900 two-sided 12-inch V-Disc releases were pressed, which, with a playing time of over six minutes on each side, could contain up to four different performances. They were sent overseas in lots of 30, in boxes dubbed “hit kits,” that also included phonograph needles and sheet music. By 1945, 3,000 V-Discs were being shipped every month, and a total of some eight million records found their way overseas. The effort ended in 1949.
Not surprisingly, those records did find their way back, smuggled by eager music fans. Many records were confiscated and destroyed; one record-company employee did time for possession of over 2,500 discs. But enough slipped through the cracks to become a potent legacy. On the 50th anniversary of the war’s end, V-Discs were declared to be in the public domain and began showing up online and on CDs, usually reflecting the terrible shape the source material was in.
Not so with this set. As usual with Mosaic, they’re drawn from the best obtainable sources, and mastered to bring out the music without detrimental over-processing. Sure, you’ll hear some swoosh and distortion, but it’s minimal enough to be negligible. These are 1940s recordings waxed in the same studios and by the same engineers used by top stars of the day, and they sound it. Let’s look at what’s inside.
Even within that five-year space of recording dates, there’s a considerable variety of artists and repertory on hand. It’s something of a New Orleans reunion during the first several sessions in the set, beginning with trumpeter Bunk Johnson, probably, at 66 (or 76, depending on who you believe) the oldest performer of the bunch at the time of his 1946 session. His seven-piece ensemble also features clarinetist George Lewis, carrying forward traditions of their native New Orleans.
By 1943, the Original Dixieland Jazz Band had been retired for five years, but how long do such interruptions ever last? In any event, two of the original members, trombonist Eddie Edwards and drummer Tony Spargo, were joined by Bobby Hackett, Brad Gowans, and Frank Signorelli on four numbers, including fresh takes on their classic sides “Sensation Rag” and “Tiger Rag.”
There’s Sidney Bechet and His New Orleans Feetwarmers or Sidney Bechet and His V-Discers, depending on how he (or someone) chose to style his group, and Muggsy Spanier with two sessions, recorded a year apart (1944 and 1945) but presented here together, with Lou McGarity, Pee Wee Russell, Peanuts Hucko, Bud Freeman, Jess Stacy, and George Wettling among those spread between the outings.
The crowning moments occur at the beginning and end of a session from December 1944, when Louis Armstrong strode into the studio, unannounced, and joined Jack Teagarden and his all-star aggregation in “‘Jack Armstrong’ Blues” and “I’m Confessin,’” alongside a host of other lively (but Satch-free) tunes.
Martha Tilton takes most of the vocals during a pair of 1945 sessions, the first of which featured Lt. Bob Crosby and His V-Disc Bob Cats, and if you go by the liner notes, engagingly written by Michael Steinman, you’ll be in fear of Bob’s vocals. Sure, he was nothing like his famous brother in the crooning department, but he’s supported by Yank Lawson, Herb Ellis, Bob Haggart, and George Wettling, among others, and when Martha comes in with her refrain, all is forgiven.
Her material is a bit unusual: “Pack Up Your Troubles” and “It’s a Long Way to Tipperary” date from World War I, while “When I Grow Too Old to Dream” dated back only a decade but, being a Romberg song, sounds much older still. Probably good choices for lonely soldiers and sailors, though.
Tilton was back in the studio a month later with her own ensemble, including arrangements by Sy Oliver and featuring a sultry “Out of Nowhere” with a soulful Billy Butterfield trumpet refrain as well. And a couple of months thereafter, she paired with former Tommy Dorsey crooner Jack Leonard for duets on “Two Sleepy People” and “Thanks for the Memory,” more poignant listening for those in the trenches.
Connee Boswell leaned more towards the sentimental, waxing “Good Night Sweetheart,” “Shine on Harvest Moon,” and “Way Down Yonder in New Orleans.” But including, for good measure, a cleaned-up version of the ribald favorite “Bell Bottom Trousers.”
And while we’re considering the canaries, to use the lingo of the day, here’s Jo Stafford, recorded in 1945, with Billy Butterfield and Lou McGarity, among others, in a swinging ballad session that includes “Blue Moon” and “Am I Blue,” but ends with an up-tempo “I’m Coming Virginia.” That’s Billy Rowland making the studio’s neglected piano sound good.
Ella Fitzgerald’s 1945 session included “I’ll See You in My Dreams,” “I’ll Always Be in Love with You,” and a lyricked-up “Bugle Call Rag” retitled “That’s Rich.” Charlie Shavers, Lou McGarity, Peanuts Hucko, and Buddy Rich are among her cohorts.
Sometimes Mildred Bailey’s little-girl voice grates on me, but she sounds superb here on a 1943 date with Teddy Wilson—and only Teddy Wilson!—that’s one of the best things in this collection, which is saying a lot. They collaborate on “Rockin’ Chair” (of course), “Sunday, Monday, or Always,” “More Than You Know,” and the embarrassing “Scrap Your Fat.” You also get to hear the notoriously colorful Mildred cuss upon messing up an intro speech.
She returns a few discs later with Red Norvo in a pair of 1944 sessions where we hear the rapport that earned them the nickname “Mr. And Mrs. Swing,” a rapport that didn’t prevent them from divorcing two years earlier. “Someday, Sweetheart” and “Downhearted Blues” are trademark Bailey, wonderfully nuanced jazz performances.
Red, who was always forward-thinking, gives some easygoing tastes of bop, which is probably why his sessions are late in the set—on CD 10 with Mildred (and some instrumentals), and then spilling over onto CD 11 with a 1943 session that included Flip Phillips and Ralph Burns, and a couple of Helen Ward vocals.
Norvo terms it “light jump music” in his spoken introduction, but there’s light bop built in to the melody of “1-2-3-4 Jump,” sparked by an E-flat the sounds once, then twice, then—you get the picture. And if you’re inspired to count higher than four, the next tune is “Seven Come Eleven.”
Those introductions, by the way, add a charmingly personal touch. John Kirby introduces his band by name, and there are endearing messages from Peanuts Hucko, Jo Stafford, Teddy Wilson, and Gene Krupa, among others. Bob Crosby goes cornball, saying, “You know, it wouldn’t be much fun makin’ a V-Disc without a v-male,” by way of introducing Martha Tilton. Joe Bushkin wryly observes that there has been “nothing to do S.P.—since Petrillo.”
Art Tatum is unexpectedly sweet as he offers “a few tunes that I’m sure you might enjoy—I don’t know about the piano playing,” adding, “I’d like to see all of you back as quick as you possibly can, so any chance that I can do anything more for you, I’d be glad to do it.” But it’s Fats Waller who makes you feel like you’re relaxing in a late-night club with him. We already know his brand of ebullience from airchecks and his few film appearances, but his lengthy session from September 16, 1943 gives us 14 songs ranging from “Ain’t Misbehavin’” to “If You’re a Viper,” and finishes with an incredibly poignant “Sometimes I Feel like a Motherless Child,” played on an organ—his favorite instrument.
Exploring this set has been one of my greatest recent pleasures, because it’s a visit not only with old friends and familiar tunes but also tunes and players who are new to me, players like Johnny Blowers, Bill Stegmeyer, Loumell Morgan, Dick Farney, and the Swedish proto-bop clarinetist Stan Hasselgard.
And make sure you listen carefully to the lyrics, because some of these songs have been re-tooled for the destination audience. There’s a five-minute version of “Two Sleepy People,” for instance, with Martha Tilton and Jack Leonard giving the expected Frank Loesser lyrics, but then Trummy Young bursts in with a refrain that begins, “There they are, aren’t they a mess? / He with sloppy trousers and she a messy dress, / Two sleepy people at dawn’s early light, and much, much too tight to say good-night.”
And you never know what to expect when you turn Bud Freeman loose. He and some Tommy Dorsey bandmates destroyed a forgettable ballad titled “Am I Dreaming?” in 1937; a year later, he teamed with Minerva Pious (Fred Allen’s “Mrs. Nussbaum”) for a satire on “Private Lives” (“Private Jives”). He’s at it again here, with Yank Lawson and Peanuts Hucko, among others, for
“The Latest Thing in Hot Jazz,” which is sheer spoof, and “For Musicians Only,” which starts out corny but turns into a straight-ahead number.
As noted above, there have been earlier CD releases of some of this material, much of it shepherded by Edmond “Digi” DiGiannantonio, a former Navy lieutenant who was ordered to keep a copy of each V-Disc the Navy received. Decades after the war ended, he put together some CDs that were released by Collector’s Choice Music, but many of them suffered from compromised sound. This Mosaic set sounds as good as it’s probably possible to get. And the company hopes to mine the V-Disc catalogue for more releases in the future, which will be another victory to look forward to.
Classic V-Disc Small Group Jazz Sessions
Various Artists
Mosaic MD11-279
mosaicrecords.com
B.A. Nilsson is a freelance writer and actor who lives in rural New York. His interest in vintage jazz long predates his marriage to a Paul Whiteman relative, and greatly helped in winning her affections.
