Blame It On The Bossa Nova

Criterion’s announcement that it is issuing in August a Blu-ray edition of Marcel Camus’s Black Orpheus should remind us of how the bossa nova came to America. Released in the United States in December 1959, Black Orpheus made the composers of its soundtrack, Antonio Carlos Jobim and Luis Bonfá, internationally famous. The film’s main themes, “Manha de Carnival” and “O Nossa Amor”, have been covered countless times over the decades since. The bossa nova—from the Portugese, bossa, meaning “trend,” and nova, meaning “new”—combined cool jazz harmonies and pop melodies with a samba rhythm. The bossa nova was initially popularized by João Gilberto on his 1959 album Chega De Saudade. His individual guitar style and the hushed, casual lilt of his vocal delivery defined the musical form and altered the course of popular music history. The music soon became the de facto soundtrack of any European film made in the 60s that considered itself cool and bohemian. In 1961, the Kennedy administration sponsored jazz guitarist Charlie Byrd’s “goodwill” tour to Brazil. Upon his return to the United States, Byrd along with Stan Getz recorded the hugely popular Jazz Samba (1962). But perhaps the biggest hit, and one immediately identifiable with the 1960s, is the Getz-Gilberto hit, “The Girl From Ipanema” (1964), available here. Predictably, many dozens of pop albums influenced by the bossa nova were released. The Brazilian word suggesting the emotionally detached mood sometimes associated with cool is saudade, which may explain why for many people the bossa nova is sometimes confused with so-called “lounge” music, and both are confused with cool jazz. In 1963, Eydie Gorme released “Blame It On the Bossa Nova,” which became a huge hit. What’s the bossa nova? Why, it’s “the dance of love” according to Eydie Gorme. How to dance it? Why, you just march in place and swing your hips.

Elvis Returns

Fifty years ago tonight, on 12 May 1960 (a Thursday), ABC aired the Frank Sinatra television special, “Welcome Home Elvis,” Elvis’s first television appearance since returning from Germany in early March, where he been serving in the Army since late 1958. Actually the show was the fourth installment of The Frank Sinatra Timex Show, a series of mediocre television specials that Sinatra had made for Timex. Taped a few weeks earlier, on March 26, the show prominently featured other members of the so-called “rat pack,” including Sammy Davis Jr., Joey Bishop, and Peter Lawford, but missing Dean Martin. For trivia buffs the show is significant because it features Elvis singing a verse of the opening production number, “It’s Nice to Go Traveling,” the recording of which is available on the DVD releases of the show, but no official recording exists on record. Given that the show was an hour long, if the 1959–60 network television schedule available here is correct, it may have replaced The Untouchables at the 9:30 p.m. Eastern slot. Of interest now only as a museum piece, Elvis reportedly was paid $125,000 for his appearance on the program, an amount, according to the inflation calculator, equivalent to $895, 432 in current dollars. If you by chance have a copy of the DVD, please join me in watching it tonight, although be forewarned that Elvis appears on the show for only roughly six minutes. Elvis's first movie after leaving the Army, G. I. Blues, would be released slightly over six months later.

Elvis And His Colon

According to a Fox News exclusive published today, Elvis may not have died in 1977 from cardiac arrhythmia, as has been widely reported, but rather, according to Elvis’s attending physician, Dr. George “Nick” Nichopoulos, he possibly died from the effects of chronic constipation. According to the Fox News article,

“After he died we weren’t sure (of the exact cause of death) so I continued to do some research and I had some doctors call me from different places and different med schools that were doing research on constipation and different problems you can get into with it. I just want to get the story straight — it all made sense with the new research that was done,” the now retired Memphis M.D told Pop Tarts. “Dr. Nick” was by Presley’s side for the last twelve years of his life and tried to resuscitate him the day he died. He recently released the book “The King and Dr. Nick” about his time with The King, and his theory on the death that shocked America. “We didn’t realize until the autopsy that his constipation was as bad – we knew it was bad because it was hard for us to treat, but we didn’t realize what it had done," the doctor explains of Elvis’ condition. "We just assumed that the constipation was secondary to the meds that he was taking for his arthritic pain and for his insomnia.”

Astonishingly, according to Dr. Nichopoulous, the autopsy revealed that Elvis’s colon was 5 to 6 inches in diameter (in contrast to the normal width of 2-3 inches) and instead of being the standard 4 to 5 feet long, his colon was 8-9 feet long.

“The constipation upset him quite a bit because Elvis thought that he could handle almost anything, he thought he was really a man’s man and he wasn’t going to let something like this . . . he thought that this was a sign of weakness and he wasn’t going to be weak,” Nichopoulos said. “And it’s not the kind of thing you table talk. Back in the ‘60s and ‘70s you didn’t talk about constipation much, you didn’t hear people complaining about it, or saying what they did or how much trouble they had with it.”

Actually, the issue of Elvis’s dietary and bathroom habits was explored about twenty years by the enormously unpopular (at least to Elvis fans) Albert Goldman, in his book, Elvis: The Last 24 Hours (1990). Goldman discussed in detail how drug intake would have led to chronic constipation. The full Fox News article is available here.

Mortarboard Society

A few months ago, I wrote a blog entry praising Steven Beasley’s biography of Big Band leader Kay Kyser, titled Kay Kyser: The Ol’ Professor of Swing! America’s Forgotten Superstar (Richland Creek Publishing, 2009). I received a cheerful email from Steve yesterday, who wrote to tell me that he’d just returned from an exhilarating 4-day tour of North Carolina promoting the book, a tour financially supported by the Chapel Hill Museum (Kyser, as everyone from those parts knows, was from Chapel Hill, North Carolina). Steve indicated he did a 30-minute oral presentation and Q&A session at two of the larger locations, followed by book signings at each of the four cities he visited—Chapel Hill, Durham, Rocky Mount, and Raleigh. In Rocky Mount he spoke to several (elderly) people who’d known Kyser and heard some good stories. He also stopped by to say hello to Kyser’s widow, Georgia (pictured in the 40s, with Kyser), who at age ninety I’m happy to report is doing very well. Georgia graciously presented Steven with a couple of absolutely amazing gifts, truly historic items which you can read all about on his latest blog, available at www.myspace.com/officialkaykyser. I’ll let Steven tell you about the gifts she presented to him on his blog, but I will add that I, too, can’t think of a person more deserving of the gifts. I believe him when he says the gifts brought tears to his eyes, and I would have loved to have been there for the occasion.

Steve also indicated in his email that his publishing company, Richland Creek, has just issued a new 18-track CD titled Kay Kyser: The Ol’ Professor of Swing! Live Air Checks 1937-44, which he compiled, produced and annotated. Since he is a world authority on Kyser, you can be sure it is historically and factually accurate. You can purchase the CD at the book site, www.kaykyserbook.com. I should add that Steve owns one of the largest collections of Kyser memorabilia in the world (now, thanks to Georgia, grown a bit larger). As I stated in my earlier blog post, Steven’s book is the first (and only) full-length biography about the once popular band leader. In addition to its many fascinating biographical details, it is loaded with rare and unpublished photographs and interviews, sheet music and magazine covers, and the definitive Kyser discography. I strongly recommend it to anyone interested in America’s musical past, especially the Swing Era. To reiterate: Kay Kyser and His Orchestra had 11 “Number 1” records and 35 “Top 10” hits. In addition, Kyser had a top-rated radio show for eleven years on NBC, featuring the Ol’ Professor of Swing along with his show, “Kay Kyser’s College of Musical Knowledge.” No band leader of the Swing Era has a more extensive filmography than Kay Kyser, who starred in seven feature films and had appearances in several others. He frequently outdrew the Glenn Miller and Benny Goodman orchestras in live appearances; ballroom attendance records set by the Kyser orchestra during the Swing Era have never been toppled. In short, Kay Kyser was one of the most and popular and beloved entertainers in America from the late 1930s to the late 1940s.

I’d also like to applaud the Chapel Hill Museum for helping support Steven’s tour through North Carolina, as it seems to me such activities are an indication of its commitment to championing regional artists and culture. Incidentally, in addition to Kay Kyser, another of Chapel Hill’s favorite sons is James Taylor, for whom the museum maintains a website, available here.

Ghostly Apparitions

Perhaps the most famous ghostly apparition in Western literature is in Act I of Shakespeare’s Hamlet, when the titular protagonist confronts the ghost of his father. The moment in the play is an example of what Freud described as unheimlich, translated into English as the uncanny. In German, heimlich refers to that which is as familiar as one’s home, that is, “home-like.” A less common meaning of the word, though, is secretive or deceitful. Thus unheimlich can refer to something unfamiliar or strange, but also to something that was to have remained a secret, but has been unintentionally disclosed. Hence the familiar become alien is linked by Freud to the return of the repressed, and both such experiences are “weird,” odd, and perhaps frightening—i. e., uncanny. When that which is hidden away wishes itself to be disclosed, the person or persons who are chosen to disclose it are said to be “haunted.”

Interestingly, if a popular song about an uncanny experience is done well, it usually becomes a hit. For instance, although Burl Ives apparently first recorded “(Ghost) Riders in the Sky” early in 1949, the Vaughn Monroe version was the best-selling one. Monroe’s version, released around the first of April 1949, spent 22 weeks on the chart and reached No. 1. Bing Crosby’s version appeared on the charts soon after, and peaked at No. 14. Meanwhile, Burl Ives’ version spent six weeks on the charts and nearly made the Top 20. The popularity of Marc Cohn’s “Walking In Memphis,” in which the singer sees the ghost of Elvis, helped Cohn win the Grammy for Best New Artist in 1991. David Allan Coe’s “The Ride,” in which the singer is given a ride by the ghost of Hank Williams, reached No. 1 on the Country charts, and Stan Ridgway’s “Camouflage,” the jungle warfare equivalent of Red Sovine’s “Phantom 309,” reached No. 4 in the UK in 1986. In Sovine’s “Phantom 309” (1967), the singer is hitchhiking home after being unable to find work. Stuck at a crossroads on a rainy night, the singer is kindly given a lift by Big Joe, the driver of a rig named Phantom 309. Big Joe eventually deposits the singer at a truck stop, giving him a dime for a cup of coffee. The singer informs everyone at the truck stop of Big Joe’s largesse, only to learn from a waitress that Big Joe is a ghost. At the particular intersection where he, the singer, was picked up, years before Big Joe had avoided certain collision with a school bus by deliberately driving his tractor-trailer off of the road, killing himself but sparing the lives of the children. The song’s final twist is that the ghost of Big Joe has given rides to many hitchhikers. “Phantom 309” thus activates both meanings of unheimlich, a common activity made strange, but also the return of the repressed—the unknown or hidden is revealed, in this case the story of Big Joe. The song was later burlesqued in Pee-Wee’s Big Adventure (1985) during a sequence in which the hitchhiking Pee-Wee Herman is given a lift by a ghost driver named “Large Marge.”

In songs such as Joni Mitchell’s “Furry Sings the Blues” and Robyn Hitchcock’s “Trams of Old London,” ghosts are meant to invoke a way of life long past, suggesting belatedness, a situation in which one has arrived on the scene too late. The singers cast themselves as epigones, those born after the Golden Age is already over, and all the heroes have vanished. The singer in Neutral Milk Hotel’s “Ghost” is likewise haunted by the past, but especially haunted by the figure of Anne Frank, a young person whose bodily existence was reduced to ashes during the Holocaust.

A Few Close Encounters Of The Ghostly Kind:

David Allan Coe – The Ride
Marc Cohn – Walking In Memphis
Crash Test Dummies – The Ghosts That Haunt Me
Robyn Hitchcock – Trams of Old London
Dickey Lee – Laurie (Strange Things Happen)
Joni Mitchell – Furry Sings the Blues
Vaughn Monroe – (Ghost) Riders in the Sky
Neutral Milk Hotel – Ghost
Stan Ridgway – Camouflage
Red Sovine – Phantom 309

What The Dead Men Say

An interesting article on the late Alex Chilton has been posted on nola.com, well worth reading for anyone interested in the enigmatic rocker’s life in New Orleans after leaving Memphis in the early 80s. However, the article encourages at least one illusion about the musician, that he was actually a “professional” musician rather than an amateur one. I don’t use the designation “amateur” in any pejorative sense here, but only to suggest that a professional has a career, and Chilton did not. Practicing amateurs are the rule rather than the exception in rock. What is meant by career other than a narrative that charts an artist’s development through time? Since Chilton had a largely elusive life (and career, if one must use that word) after leaving Big Star, and is now dead and therefore no longer able to speak for himself, others will speak on his behalf, writing such narratives as can be found by clicking on the link above. For the act of speaking on a dead person’s behalf is always done retroactively. As Michelet observed about the writing of history, the living have every right to speak for the dead, articulating their wishes and desires, even if they themselves were not fully aware of them. As evidence of this, consider the declaration in bold at the beginning of the nola.com article: “Alex Chilton’s life in New Orleans was a mystery, and that’s how the Big Star singer wanted it.” Oh yeah? Says who? Why, we the living do. The article also reveals how his “career” is now open to (re)negotiation, and his greatness, however that is to be weighed and measured, shall be posthumously conferred. Certainly Big Star has undergone institutional ratification, that is, has earned institutional distinction (canonization), indicated by its albums being listed on Rolling Stone’s “500 Greatest Albums Of All Time”. I admit I do not know Rolling Stone magazine’s critical assessment of the band’s albums at the time of their initial release in the early 70s, but what their appearance (years later) on the “500 Greatest” list means is that the band’s music has been designated, retroactively, as “genuinely” innovative by one of rock’s sanctioning institutions. That is, the institution has brought the band into the realm of discourse, validating its musical endeavors. In any case, Big Star’s greatness was bestowed posthumously, and hence so, too, has Alex Chilton’s.