Musical Interlude

Gonna go all WFMU on the blog this week and hit you with some tunes that can only be termed: instrumental exotica.

But first, some of you want to know what's going on with the Ira/new slice contest. The man himself assures me that there's still time to get yer choices in – just click on ol' Feter Shmuel on the right, there, and then scroll down to leave your musical selection in the comments. No idea what he thinks about your groovy selections, but the KassaNostra is very pleased with the options. Regardless of how the slice turns out, I think a fan appreciation post is in order. Maybe before we take our annual summer hiatus.

On to the music! First up, we got us Elmer Snowden's banjo-licious take on the Twelfth Street Rag. Even you anti-folk dance heathens out there dig this tune. When Kinderland gets down with the rag, it gets down with Pee Wee Hunt's 1948 version on Capitol Records – that disc was Billboard's number-one single for that year, selling over three million copies. (Oddly enough, from a sheer numbers perspective, that may make it the single most popular song in the Tolland canon. Crazy, man.) Someday I'll post the Hunt version, along with a few others since there's thousands of covers out there. But for today, I'm sticking with Snowden, a jazz-era banjoist and bandleader. Don't know why this particular version tickles the KassaNostra's fancy so, but it does. One caveat: Snowden leaves out the throw-your-hands-in-the-air bridge, so if you're gonna try dancing to this, be careful not to get tripped up.

Elmer Snowden: Twelfth Street Rag



Never underestimate the power of a good instrumental. In 1962, the Ventures – surf-rockers of Run Don't Walk fame – brought rock 'n' roll to Japan. Seriously! With no language barrier to overcome, their tour of the Far East touched off the eleki buumu – the "electric boom" that had local manufacturers scrambling to meet the needs of guitar-hungry youth. When the Ventures returned in 1965 (unaware of the mayhem they had wrought), they were greeted with Beatlemania-level pandemonium. One of the first local guitar heroes to emerge in their shadow was Takeshi Terauchi, a fuzztone master on par with Dick Dale or Link Wray.

Now, surf-rock is one of those genres wherein literally any song can be covered in the vernacular of frenetic guitar chords, and Terauchi's impressive oeuvre does not disappoint in this regard. And yet, I was shocked – nay, gobsmacked – to find a copy of Dona Dona on one of his albums from 1966. I mean, I've seen Dona Dona covers before, but always on albums like this. Or this. How the hell did a Yiddishkeit folksong find its way to Japan? (As with most things, I find it easy to blame the hippies.)

I have to admit, before I heard Terauchi's take, I got inappropriately excited that he was gonna positively shred this sucker. Sad to say, it's pretty much a straight cover, as respectfully mournful as a surf-guitar cover of anything can be. I get the feeling, though, that Terauchi wasn't entirely sure how to tackle this, because he throws the kitchen sink at it: flamenco guitar riffs, circus organ, every bell and (literally) whistle imaginable. It's no masterpiece, but a fine cut nonetheless.

Takeshi Terauchi & His Blue Jeans: Dona Dona



Irving Fields was a nice Jewish boy. Then he fell in love with Latin Music. Then he started combining Latin rhythms with Jewish music, starting in 1946, when his Miami Beach Rhumba was recorded by Xavier Cugat. Fields helped drive an all-things-Latin craze among post-war middle class Jews, as unlikely as that sounds (Cugat was shocked to learn he couldn't speak Spanish). The success of 1959's Bagels and Bongos spawned first a sequel, then a string of ________ and Bongos albums, milking the Latin sound waaaay past any reasonable sense of tolerability. Or maybe not, since he's been rediscovered by the Esquivel-worshiping hipster set. Anyway, two things: one, anybody who names a song Havannah Negila is okay in my book. And two, his take on Die Grine Kuzine – recast as The Green Cousin-Merengue on Fields' 1960 LP More Bagels and Bongos – transitions so smoothly, it makes you wonder if some shyster didn't rip off a nice Cuban boychik back in the day.

Irving Fields Trio: The Green Cousin-Merengue



Finally, here's Moses Dillard & The Tex-Town Display, with their rendition of Matchmaker. Dillard was a session guitarist, working at various points with Otis Redding, James & Bobby Purify, and Mighty Sam McClain. None of the projects he led ever really took off, including the Tex-Town Display, which only lasted three or four years. It's most notable accomplishment was to feature a young Peabo Bryson on backing vocals (which, since this is an instrumental number, means I'm gonna hear from the legions of ex-Kinderland Bryson fans). It's a not a bad tune at all – starts off with some Coletrane-esque noodling, and shifts into a guitar that veers dangerously close to elevator music, before righting itself about halfway through. Jerry Bock would no doubt be pleased.

Moses Dillard & The Tex-Town Displays: Matchmaker



Next time: lyrics! (Maybe.) Meanwhile, keep those slice suggestions coming.

Peace & Vinyl,
The KassaNostra