OLD-TIME SONGS
COMIC AND SENTIMENTAL SOME STILL POPULAR A chance inclusion of some old-time songs in a recent London production, 4 Melodies and Memories,’ proved bo popular that the number was promptly enlarged. People who lived in the days of dundrearies and antimacassars rejuvenated themselves by singing anew their old favourites, while a later generation has sought reasons for the vitality of songs and choruses that swept through the English-speaking world half a lifetime ago., Ta ra ra boom de ay,’ ‘ A Bicycle Built for Two,’ ’ After the Ball is Over,’ 4 You Should See Me Dance the Polka,’ and many another old song have resounded from thousands of throats, at testing a longevity denied to many more recent numbers.
It has been said that the songs of a people throw more light on its history and characteristics than its laws. An archeologist of 4)000 a.d., examining memorials of British civilisation, might be puzzled by such lines as 4 Get-yer-’air-cut,’ 4 ’E dunno where ’e are,’ ‘ Hi-tiddley-hiti.’ Millions of men in the Great War found a sort of emotional catharsis in roaring lustily about the distance to Tipperary, packing up troubles in an old kit bag, assurance that Australia would be there, and the doubtful attractions of a damsel in Armentieres. But these are only recent evidences of vocal inconsequence. The Boer War produced a crop, ot which 4 Soldiers of the Queen,’ 4 Sons of the Sea,’ and Kipling’s [ Absentminded Beggar ’ became the best known.
Popular songs that reflect the taste, manners, and absurdities of each generation, follow certain broad characteristics. Generally the chorus is more important than the verse, and correct English may be an actual drawback. The idea should be palpable to the meanest intelligence; the melody must be easily remembered. Taking liberties with pronounciation is acceptable as wit. As Spaeth observes in his entertaining ‘ Read ’Em and Weep,’ the world is full of wronged women and malevolent villains, and something should be done about it; death should be an occasion for maudlin orgy; sin is wrong, virtue praiseworthy, and gold highly overrated. Sentiment (especially orthodox love-making), pathos, humor, and nonsense set to tuneful melody, share in keeping a song sweet. In bygone ,days a music hall artist sang his own songs to audiences who knew not wireless, and to whom the gramophone was a curious novelty. The popularity of a song spread slowly outwards in ever-widening ripples. Now it reaches a climax much more quickly. It bursts upon the world and is heard everywhere at once. “ Saturation point ” is soon reached, and the “ listener-in ” demands that it be switched off for something ©lso. The present-day songster runs the gauntlet of mass production, on a scale never known before. And yet manv old favourites abide. By their very simplicity, both of words anl tunes, they have hummed, whistled, and sung themselves into the national consciousness. For some years a medley verse, compounded or hints and scraps of popular songs, went the rounds:—
Where did you get that ’at. That collar and that tier Climbing up the golden stairs, She winked the other eye. Little Annie Rooney Sitting in the sun— Hush, here comes the bogey man I Johnny, get your gun ! Then followed the roystering ‘Ta-ra-ra-boom-de-ay,’ which B. Middleton Batchelor is said to have sold for MU fn the early nineties Lottie Collins made the song a riot in England by singing the first part very demurely, and then going into a kicking chorus that presaged our modern jazz: A sweet Tuxedo girl you see, queen of swell society. Pond of fun as fond can be, wfien it’s on the strict Q.T. I’m not too young, I’m not too oia, not too timid, not too bold, Just the kind you’d like to hold, just the kind for sport, I in told. Tar-ra-ra boom-de-ay, Tar-ra-ra boom-de-ay,
‘At Trinity Church I Met My Doom,’ ‘Two Lovely Black Eyes, ‘The Bowery,’ ‘There’s a Tavern in the Town,’ ‘The Coster’s Beano, ‘ Camptown Races, Abdul A b .oUni> Amir,’ ‘ Down Went M Gmty jostle each other along the corridor ot memory. ‘ln the Pale Moonlight, which bad a haunting hit, was easily one of the best songs of its day, ana ran;—-
In tho pale moonlight, In the Isle of Wight . A gay young spark met rlossio; He was gaily dressed In his Sunday best, , And his hair was smooth and glossy. Said he, “ My papa is a millionaire. Said she, “My grandmother owns Leicester square.” , And they walked and talked together in the pale moonlight’ Each told the other such a fairy tale, He was but a tailors fitter, And she a stocking fitter. Oh! No wonder that the moon turned psle 1 Once-popular songs were written to acclaim the march of invention or same forward stride in mechanical progress. The ‘ New Electnc Light affirmed that this wonderful illuramant would show up atrocities committed in the East, throw light on Russia s shifty policy, while in the House or Parliament '* we shall learn aright the policy of Beaconsfield by the new electric light.” Neapolitans celebrated the funicular railway up Vesuvius with ‘Funiculi. Funicula,’ and the arrival of the telephone caused a composer to burst into song. Inspired by the vogue for foreign dances, She Does the landango AH Over the Place, with words and music by G. W. Hunt, once had an immense vogue. Hunt, by the way. was a prolific writer of songs for comedians, and produced the famous patriotic warning: We don’t want to fight, But, by Jingo, if we do, Wo have the ships, we have the men, Wo have the money, too. One of tho most uproarious favourites of long ago was ‘Champagne Charlie’ sung by George Legbounio. whose fame was largely established by the song. Words and music were by AM tee. Till .bout 1896 t ™ the “ last word in devilishness. On the first cover design Charlie was depicted in motley striped trousers, orange coat, grey suede gloves, and silk topper, with a cigar held at a raking angle between dangling whiskers, described as coming down in points tc like the roots of <1 molar. A stick in tho right hand pointed to a champagne bottle in the left. At some performances Legbourne redeemed an offer in one verse by ” standing free champagne to the audience, thus helping tne popularity of the piece. Hie chorus had more than one repetitive line, its burden being:— For Champagne Charlie is my name, Champagne Charlie is my name; Good for any game at night, my WhotFcome and join me in a spree?
At various times other great favourites were ‘ Villikins and His Dinah,’ ' The Two Obadiahs,’ ‘ Are tho Buffalo Girls Coming Out To-night?’ ‘ A Hot Time in the Old Town’; ‘Tommy, Make Room for Your Uncle,’ with words and music by T. S. Lonsdale; Slap Bang, Here We Are Again,’ Alfred Vance’s most celebrated effort, invoking long life for British gentlemen and sports “ who smoke their weed and swig their stout, and won’t have Gladstone’s port.” Bibulous songs such as ‘ Beer, Beer, Glorious Beer ’ and ‘ Little Brown Jug, Don’t I Love Thee ’ (a most shameless avowal of strong taste for spirituous liquor) have been countered with appealing antialcoholic pieces such as ‘ Father, Dear Father, Come Home With Me Now,’ by an American, H. C. Work; and 'Don’t Go Out To-night, Dear Father.’ Fred Gilbert, author and composer of ‘ The Man That Broke the Bank at Monte Carlo,’ achieved a world success: As I walked along the Bois Booking With an , independent air, You can hear the girls declare He must be a millionaire! You can hear them sigh and wish to die, You can see them wink tho other eye At tho man who broke the bank at Monte Carlo. One might go on indefinitely. ■Where Did You Get That Hat,’written and sung by J. J. Sullivan in the ’eighties, had an Irish flavour, and musically was founded on a bugle call. The singer proclaims how his grandfather left him his property, but as a condition of getting tho nionCT he had to wear his forbear’s hat. Hence the query: Where did you get that hat? Where did you got that tile? Isn’t it a nobby one, and just the proper style. I should like to have one just the same as that— Wherever I go they shout Hello, where did you get that hat? One effect of the reaction from jazz extravaganza is a marked revival of many simple old-fashioned melodies, which with good reason, thousands of radio listeners prefer to the complexities of the newer dance music.
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Bibliographic details
Evening Star, Issue 20422, 1 March 1930, Page 20
Word Count
1,430OLD-TIME SONGS Evening Star, Issue 20422, 1 March 1930, Page 20
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