“In a Shanty in Old Shanty Town” was written by Ira Schuster and Jack Little with lyrics by Joe Young, published in 1932. Ted Lewis and His Band performed it in the film The Crooner also in 1932. That version was released as a single and went to #1 and stayed there for 10 weeks.
Then Johnny Long and His Orchestra had a hit with it in 1946. Other versions have been recorded in various tempos including by Doris Day, Somethin’ Smith & the Redheads and Jerry Lee Lewis. If you want to look through the massive number of versions, here’s the Discogs link. I’m partial to the Ink Spots cover. As for the meaning of the lyrics, I think we can boil it down to “man likes his shack.”
In a Shanty in Old Shantytown
It’s only a shanty in old Shanty Town the roof is so slanty it touches the ground. But my tumbled down shack by an old railroad track, like a millionaire’s mansion is calling me back.
I’d give up a palace if I were a king. It’s more than a palace, it’s my everything. There’s a queen waiting there with a silvery crown in a shanty in old Shanty Town.*
*I notice that Somethin’ Smith and the Redheads had some fun with new lyrics sometime after WWII with mention of GI loans and such. You can find those additional lyrics here.
“I Found a Million Dollar Baby (in a Five and Ten Cent Store)” was written by Harry Warren (music) and Mort Dixon and Billy Rose (lyrics), and published in 1931. It was introduced in the 1931 Broadway musical Billy Rose’s Crazy Quilt where it was sung by Fanny Brice (Rose’s wife at the time).
A number of versions appeared in 1931. The one that did the best, featured here, was by Fred Waring’s Pennsylvanians with vocals by Clare Hanlon (and the Three Waring Girls and Chorus) on Victor Records. Bing Crosby released the second most popular version that year, and the Boswell Sisters put out their own, which did fairly well. It has subsequently become a pretty well-covered pop song.
In the history of popular music, it’s not unusual to find questions asked about who really wrote a given song due in part to the fact that someone in a position to push a song to popularity might ask for or simply receive songwriting credit for their services. And as is well known, the money is in publishing. Broadway impresario Billy Rose apparently was familiar with these kinds of arrangements as a “composer” of more that 50 hit songs including “Barney Google,” “That Old Gang of Mine,” “It’s Only a Paper Moon,” “Me and My Shadow,” “Without a Song,” and “I Found a Million Dollar Baby.” Rose biographer Earl Conrad writes:
Nobody clearly knew what he wrote or didn’t write…. Publishers tend to credit him with writing the songs known to bear his name as a lyricist…. But tales rumble on … that Billy could feed and toss in a remark and monkey around, but that others did most of the writing.
Anyway, an interesting aside, whatever the case may be on this particular tune. Word and chords attached.
I Found a Million Dollar Baby
Verse: It was a lucky April shower; It was the most convenient door. I found a million dollar baby in a five and ten cent store.
Verse: The rain continued for an hour, I hung around for three or four, around a million dollar baby in a five and ten cent store.
Chorus: She was selling china and when she made those eyes, I kept buying china until the crowd got wise. Incidently,
Verse: If you should run into a shower, just step inside my cottage door, And meet the million dollar baby from the five and ten cent store
Posted inUncategorized|Comments Off on “I Found a Million Dollar Baby” – Waring’s Pennsylvanians (1931)
Have you ever asked a serious songwriter what a given song is “about”? I’ve tried a few times and I can’t say I’ve ever come away particularly satisfied. More often than not the response is some form of asking me what I think the song is about. That sort of exchange makes me think that maybe good songwriting is about capturing a certain universality, words that point us in a direction but then end up meaning different things to different people. Not to be unkind but I’ve always thought with some notable exceptions that weaker songwriting is so literal there’s no way to participate in the experience – a “this happened then that happened” kind of thing. Sure, there are some songs that are clearly about something, but even then they’re often written in such a way that people can take away whatever they may happen to need.
An example is the Stephen Stills’ song “For What It’s Worth” (Stop, Listen, What’s that Sound), which he wrote when he was with Buffalo Springfield. It came out in the ‘60s and it sure sounds like an anti-war song or a song about some of the more energetic protests that were going on in American cities at the time. The truth is that it was inspired by what were called the Sunset Strip Curfew Riots in November 1966 – a fairly pedestrian series of conflicts between young people expressing themselves and the community establishment and police who were trying to curb their enthusiasm
Whatever the song was “about,’ it ended up being a pretty effective soundtrack for a lot of other stuff. Stills himself has said in interviews that a lot of people think “For What It’s Worth” is about Kent State, though it predates those events by four years.
The single was released on Atco Records in December 1966, and peaked at No. 7 on the Billboard Hot 100 chart in the spring of 1967. It was later added to the March 1967 second pressing of their first album, Buffalo Springfield. Funny thing is that the title was added after the song was written, and appears no where in the lyrics.
This is a song that screams, ‘this was the sixties,” whatever specific event acted as its inspiration.
“Ain’t We Got Fun” was published in 1921 – music by Richard A. Whiting, lyrics by Raymond B. Egan and Gus Kahn (all members of the Songwriters Hall of Fame). It’s a boppin’ little number about how much fun it is to be poor, which may seem odd given the image of the Roaring Twenties as a time of relative prosperity before the fall to come with the Great Depression at the end of the decade. Alas, tough times were known even in this era.
The post–World War I recession was an economic recession that hit much of the world in the aftermath of World War I. In many nations, especially in North America, economic growth continued and even accelerated during World War I as nations mobilized their economies to fight the war in Europe. After the war ended, the global economy began to decline. In the United States, 1918–1919 saw a modest economic retreat, but the second part of 1919 saw a mild recovery. A more severe recession hit the United States in 1920 and 1921, when the global economy fell very sharply.
Both the upbeat tempo and the jaunty lyrics would seem fairly obviously ironic, particularly with the rather “fun” observation that “the rich get richer and the poor get poorer (or laid off).” George Orwell even saw the song as indicative of post-WWI working class unrest. Some see it that way, others insist the mood of the song really is about how much fun can be had even amidst harder times.
I found this gem of an observation: “Although some citizens of the United States did not share in the good times [in the 1920s], most benefited from the country’s general economic prosperity. By and large, people had at least a little extra money in their pockets, and they also had a little more time to relax.” Wow. Rationalize much? Did this guy even listen to the lyrics? What I have not found is anything by the songwriters to explain their intention, but I’m thinking it’s not this.
A hit recording by Van and Schenck in 1921, featured below, helped to make it a popular standard. There appears to have been a lot of fooling around with the lyrics over time, but the original words don’t paint a particularly pretty picture.
As a bonus, leave it to Hollywood to bleach out all nuance as we see in this clip of Doris Day and Gordon MacRae from the 1953 movie By the Light of the Silvery Moon. Beautiful home, maid, well-dressed people everywhere, everybody looking pretty well taken care of making such that the lyrics about having not much money, unpaid rent, and owing the grocer seem a stretch, no?
Judith Lynne Sill (October 7, 1944 – November 23, 1979) lived what was surely a very troubled life, and died young. The second heading of her Wikipedia entry is “Early Life and Troubles,” with troubles that include armed robbery, drug abuse, and the early death of her father, mother and a brother, ending when she died of a drug overdose, possibly suicide at the age of 35. The full Wikepedia piece is worth a read if you want to be sad.
She was an American singer/songwriter, notably the first artist signed to David Geffen‘s Asylum label. She put out a couple of albums on Asylum and was working on a third at the time of her death. Her first album was released in late 1971 and was followed a year and a half later by Heart Food. In a review at the time in Rolling Stone, Stephen Holden wrote this (May 24, 1973):
The goal of Sill’s spiritual quest is absolute oneness with God, a fusion that is conceived both as psychedelic pantheism and in primitive, Judeo-Christian terms. The language with which Sill has chosen to express her vision is quite unusual and powerful. Her diction is elevated, at times almost Biblical, at others idiomatic… Judee Sill is a most gifted artist, one who continues to promise almost more than I dare hope for.”
The album doesn’t suffer much from its sometimes syrupy exterior, though — the songs are almost as strong as any of those from her debut. To wit, Heart Food suffers only in comparison to its predecessor; otherwise, it’s a stellar example of the kind of singer/songwriter fare the music industry was mining in the early ’70s.
Though she did not have any significant commercial success in her time, a number of important artists have noticed her work and recorded some of it including Liz Phair, Warren Zevon, and Shawn Colvin. That fact should not surprise.
This album is absolutely worth a listen. There is something about the recording technique/quality of the time that is somewhat muddy, perhaps syrupy, and off-putting, but that’s true of much of the work of the period. What strikes me most is that Judee Sill is so much a product of the early seventies in music, particular as one might situate it in the folk-rock genre. “The Kiss” sounds like something Seals and Crofts would do, “The Pearl” perhaps Pure Prairie League with strings and banjo, others like “Down Where the Valley’s Are Low” and “The Vigilante” with a spiritual, bluesy, steel string guitar vibe signalling where folk rock and country started to come together.
By the way, the final tune, called “The Jig” sounds like Aaron Copeland on acid, for what it’s worth. Not sure what was going on there.
Unique to Judee Sill are a vocal delivery and lyrics that evoke the vulnerability and sadness that characterized so much of her life. The cut below, my favourite on the album, would not sound out of place with much of the newer work featured on a web radio station like Folk Alley. This album is indeed a lost gem.
It does occur to me that Judee Sill was writing and performing the kind of music that made the Eagles, Pure Prairie League, Seals and Crofts, Jackson Browne, etc. rich and famous, and yet she didn’t make it. Could it be that this style of music was too much a guy thing for her to break through?
Posted inAmericana|TaggedJudee Sill|Comments Off on “There’s a Rugged Road” – Judee Lynne Sill (1973)
Rob Lutes is a Canadian folk and blues musician, born in Toronto, raised in New Brunswick, and currently based in Montreal. He has preformed solo and also with the band Sussex, producing albums since 2000. He received his first Canadian Folk Music Awards (CFMA) nomination in 2009 for Truth & Fiction in the English Songwriter of the Year category. He subsequently won a a CFMA for Walk in the Dark in the Contemporary Singer of the Year category in 2018.
In various reviews he has been called “among the best in a crowded roots field,” “a great songwriter,” “a man with a great way with words and also a fantastic guitar picker,” and “[one who] will soon be counted amongst the ranks of the best in the industry.”
This is the title track from his 2021 album. Listen to this album from start to finish and you will agree with all of the above.
“Low Bridge, Everybody Down” was written by Thomas S. Allen. It has also been called “Fifteen Years on the Erie Canal”, “Fifteen Miles on the Erie Canal”, “Erie Canal Song”, “Erie Barge Song”, and “Mule Named Sal.”
Mr. Allen (1876-1919) was an early part of Tin Pan Alley, and also a violinist and vaudeville composer. Lest one think he was anything like a one-hit wonder, in 1902 he wrote a tune called “Any Rags,” which topped whatever passed for the charts of the day.
The lyrics of “Low Bridge” are a reference to the middle decades of the nineteenth century when mule-drawn barges helped along the economic expansion of cites in upstate New York from Albany to Buffalo, roughly along the current path of what is now the New York State Thruway. As travelers would commonly ride on top of boats making that trip, a warning upon approaching low bridges to get down was wisely heeded.
Probably like a lot of people, I first heard Pete Seeger sing this one, though many others have taken a turn such as the Kingston Trio and Glen Yarborough. In 2006, Bruce Springsteen did a terrific version on his album “We Shall Overcome: The Seeger Sessions,” which is featured below. Seeger himself is the bonus track.
“On the Road” is a song I have always loved. I first heard it on John Denver’s 1974 album “Back Home Again.” You can find all the credits courtesy of Discogs at the link. That album had other gems on it like “Annie’s Song,” “Matthew,” “Sweet Surrender,” and “This Old Guitar.” Denver wrote seven of the 12 tracks, but “On the Road” belongs to Carl Franzen. It’s a great tune. A year earlier, Michael Johnson released it on his album, “There is a Breeze.”
Back in 2009, a local newspaper in the Minneapolis area, where Franzen lives, caught up with him at home, and this is a bit of what Franzen had to say about songwriting.
“I went to L.A. when I was a young [songwriter], and all they said was, ‘Where are the hooks?
Where are the hooks? I decided right then I wanted nothing to do with the music business,” says Franzen, who makes his living as a freelance advertising copywriter. “But two weeks later, I wrote a song called ‘On The Road’ which Michael Johnson and John Denver recorded. Then soccer took over (i.e., organizing a community soccer league in Minneapolis), and I stopped for a long while.”
But, as Franzen continues to sayt, the songwriting and piano-playing bug never left him. There is more to it, of course, and you can find some of it in Jim Walsh’s piece here.
According to a ReverbNation page, Franzen appears still to be writing songs, which is great to see. “On the Road” is the kind of song that paints a most vivid picture, and I’m glad Mr. Franzen is still at his craft.
Carl Franzen is a singer-songwriter-writer-filmmaker. His lyrics paint pictures, tell stories and ask questions (melodies and rhythm included). His new chapbook, “Words for Wordies,” is a collection of irreverent essays taking on topics like french fry consumption, voters who can’t make up their minds, and rules for heaven. His song “On the Road,” was recorded by Michael Johnson and John Denver. Lonnie Knight recorded Franzen’s “Suddenly.”
Here are two very different, but compelling, versions, of this special song, with Johnson ‘s as the primary and Denver’s as the bonus, but it could have gone either way. Here’s to hoping Franzen is still writing songs this good.
Guy Clark was an iconic American songwriter and folksinger with more than twenty albums to his credit. In 2014 he won a GRAMMY for “My Favourite Picture of You.” His songs have been recorded by a great many of the most important artists in the business including Jerry Jeff Walker, Willie Nelson, Emmylou Harris, Rodney Crowell, Steve Earle, Kathy Mattea, Lyle Lovett, and Johnny Cash.
An obituary that ran in the Guardian at the time of his death in 2016 said of Clark that he “was never a chart-busting phenomenon, but he was the embodiment of the painstaking craft of the songwriter, where meaning emerged from fine details, carefully observed and polished.”
One of the best examples of how he practiced his craft is surely “Dublin Blues,” the title track from his 1995 album.
Here’s a stunning version from an episode of Austin City Limits.
Posted inAmericana|TaggedGuy Clark|Comments Off on “Dublin Blues” – Guy Clark (1995)
The Canadian duo Ian & Sylvia (Ian & Sylvia Tyson) are recognized as important figures in the North American folk revival of the early 1960s. In Canada, “Four Strong Winds” is still something of a second national anthem. And then the British Invasion happened and folk music either got absorbed into rock, country, or pop music or moved into highly creative but less commercially successful directions.
By the early ‘70s, Ian Tyson was hosting a country music TV show on which Sylvia would regularly perform. A number of never-released recordings were made during this period and quite amazingly Sylvia found them while doing some cleaning around the house. These tracks, 26 in all, country and pop music classics, have now been released under the title The Lost Tapes by Stony Plains Records.
Nicholas Jennings writes:
The Lost Tapes contains classic songs from Ian and Sylvia’s folk period, notable for the duo’s rich, unrivalled harmonies, with the backing of Great Speckled Bird. These include Ian’s evergreen Four Strong Winds, once voted the greatest Canadian song of the 20th century in a CBC listener poll, Four Rode By and Summer Wages, his semi-biographical number about the gamble of seasonal work and romance. But there are also live versions with the band of many of the duo’s traditional repertoire, old ballads drawn from Anglo-Celtic and Appalachian sources: Little Beggarman, When First Unto This Country and Come All You Fair and Tender Ladies.
So much to choose from on this collection, but this traditional song stands out as just the kind Sylvia liked to unearth, showcasing the pair’s always beautiful harmonies.
Posted inCanadian Folk Music|TaggedIan & Sylva|Comments Off on “When First Unto This Country” – Ian & Sylvia (1971-1974)
