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Essentials in
History
Everything old is new again in replica recording
The aim was not to reproduce the tinny sound of old 78-rpm recordings, but to replicate the artistry and sound of performances as they would have been heard when performed live.
Updated: 11/9/2005 4:13:58 PM
by Neal Siegal
Manhattan Chapter and The Blue Amberol Quartette
Hear clip:
The Barbershop Harmony Society continues to be recognized as a bastion and resource for authentic Barbershop quartet preservation among some of the most knowledgeable musicians, scholars and professional practitioners of early 20th century American popular music. This was certainly the case when Bob Erdos, executive producer of Stomp Off Records, a record label dedicated to preservation of 1920s ragtime and early jazz, approached New York musician and bandleader Dan Levinson about a recording project for which they wanted the music to sound like the real thing.
Early last year, following the success of their first collaboration Echoes in Wax, an instrumental note-for-note transcription of the first jazz recordings on the Edison label from 1917), Levinson inspired Erdos to envision a companion collection; one, however, that would replicate the sound and style of the groups that dominated the recording industry during the early part of the twentieth century, specifically including original 1917 transcriptions with vocals featuring a barbershop quartet.
For this collection, Erdos’ and Levinson’s objective was not to reproduce the tinny sound of old 78-rpm recordings; archivist labels, such as Archeophone and Document Records restore and preserve original early 20th century recordings. Rather, the album, Crinoline Days (named from the words of a 1922 Irving Berlin song) was intended to accurately replicate the spirit, artistry and sound of performances as they would have been heard when performed live, unaffected by the primitive recording technology of the early days.
As a musician and bandleader, Levinson’s artistry and expertise in ’20s and ’30s popular American music falls somewhere between scholarly and obsessive.
Sensitive and keenly knowledgeable about the music and recordings of the period, Levinson knew he’d have to pursue Erdos’ commission with specialized techniques and talents. The assembly of a savvy band (trombone, banjo, piano, violin, C-melody sax and drums —yes there is such a thing as “period” drums) came relatively easily from his regular trade associations. However, finding the right singers and a quartet promised to be a greater challenge. Even with access to New York’s abundant professional talent, he knew that today’s singers would not come ready with the distinctive sound, character and experience of early barbershop singers like Billy Murray or quartets like The Edison Quartet or The American Quartet (1909-1925).
Fortunately Levinson had an ace to fall back on. Ever since hearing the Buffalo Bills in the 1962 film The Music Man, as a child, he’d been fascinated by the sound of barbershop quartets. In his teens he began collecting original quartet recordings primarily from 1906-1925. Eventually his interest led briefly to membership in SPEBSQSA in the 1980s.
To find the quartet he needed, Levinson contacted his old alma mater, The Manhattan Chapter, home of the Big Apple Chorus. Four chapter members (individually avid quartetters—including me) who were particularly excited about the unique nature of the project and the credentials of the band personnel eagerly requested an audition!
After several weeks of preparation, some direction by Levinson and a good deal of studying original 1917 recordings of The American Quartet, we dubbed ourselves The Blue Amberol Quartette after a brand of recording cylinders popular in 1912, with “quartette” in the style of the time). Happily, we passed the audition. Erdos was equally delighted and quickly set up a live recording sessions with Levinson’s Canary Cottage Dance Orchestra in a Brooklyn sound studio.
For our quartet — Eddie Holt, lead; Neal Siegal, bass; Brad Verebay, bari; and Larry Bomback, tenor —the greatest lesson had to do with how and why today’s quartets sound so different from yesterday’s. More often than not, small bands accompanied the earliest quartets. As exciting as the instrumental accompaniment is, instrumentation sonically dampens or neutralizes much of the more delicate harmonic expansion we so love today. This may be why barbershop is practiced almost exclusively a cappella today. Furthermore the constant and fully expanded chord structures we use today were not codified, so the chords often have doubles to which we are unaccustomed.
Not surprisingly, too, the recording technology itself influenced the style and its popular appeal. Until the advent of electronic recording the rudimentary mechanical recording methods of the early 1900s (like the tin horn that predated the microphone and wax disks) were insensitive to the full range of balanced individual voices and fragile harmonies. They required distinctively robust vocals. In essence the technology dictated and created aspects of the original style. By today’s standards the early recordings, exciting, spontaneous and delightful as they are, lack the harmonic clarity and subtlety to which today’s listeners are accustomed. Crinoline Days was meant to capture yesterday’s unique verve with sonic fidelity.
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