Search - Irving Berlin, Harold Rome, Moss Hart :: This Is the Army / Call Me Mister / Winged Victory

At long last and timely to boot

F. Behrens | Keene, NH USA | 08/31/2003

(5 out of 5 stars)

"Having scored a triumph during World War I with his "Yip Yip Yaphank," Irving Berlin was a natural to be asked to create a similar revue for World War II, and the all-male "This Is the Army" did very well. An original cast recording came out in 1942. The very next year, the Air Force got its chance with Moss Hart's "Winged Victory." Four of the songs appeared in boxed set of 78 rpm discs. When it was all over, the returning GI was saluted in yet another revue called "Call Me Mister." That original cast album appeared in 1946. Now you can hear them ALL on a single Decca CD (BOOOO831-02). There is a soundtrack recording from the film "This Is the Army" that is extremely fuzzy, making this Decca release far preferable, all the more so because it does give us the original all-soldier cast that included Irving Berlin himself singing (more or less) his immortal "Oh, How I Hate to Get Up in the Morning." Other songs include "I Left My Heart at the Stage Door Canteen," "How About a Cheer For the Navy," and "American Eagles." The focus here is how men made the transition from civilian to military life, and most of the problems they faced are mentioned in the opening number, "This Is the Army, Mr. Jones." We must also note with some sadness that the real problems of joining an army are never explicit, but the purpose of the show was to reassure and not to look at the "dark side of the force." "Winged Victory" originally contained only two discs holding four songs: "Winged Victory," "My Dream Book of Memories," "The Whiffenpoof Song," and "The Army Air Corps." That last one thrilled my generation whenever it was played over the radio and especially during the wartime films; and it has lost none of its potency over the years. (The line about going "down in flame" still chills.) This was also the first military revue that included women, a fact which makes it even more of an historical document. In 1946, Harold Rome lent his talents to putting together a revue for those returning to civilian life. Early in the war, Dinah Shore was able to praise "A Boy in Khaki," but Vaughn Monroe later in the war sang about looking forward to wearing "Just a Blue Serge Suit." I have a particular fondness for this set, because I owned a copy as a boy, played it to death, and eventually lost track of it. I never knew there was a 1950 LP version which included "This Is the Army," and I spent years trying to find the company that held the copyright that would get it onto a tape or (later on) a CD. So 57 years after the album first was released, my prayer has been answered! The first number, sung by Lawrence Winters (a great portrayer of Porgy, by the way), takes place aboard a "Going Home Train" and is replete with optimism. A sketch in which a group of men are waiting to be assigned work for the day included Winter's rendition of "The Red Ball Express" on which the Black GIs carried supplies to the troops. He is the only one denied work at the end of the scene. We had an even older enemy than the Nazis to face. A young newcomer named Betty Garrett delighted audiences with "Little Surplus Me" and "Yuletide, Park Avenue" in which many of the New York shops are mentioned in Christmas carol style. But it was her rendition of "South America, Take It Away" that brought down the house and raised her to stardom. You get the expected comic number, "Military Life," sung by Jules Munshin (remember him from the film "On the Town"?) and two other men, while Winters sings "A Face on a Dime," a song that needs some explaining to those who were born after the minting of the "Roosevelt Dime." "Along With Me" and the full version of "When We Meet Again" are the ballads, while the title song acts as a finale number. The press release announces, "Decca Broadway Salutes the Troops With the CD Release of Three World War II Musical Revues." The current situation, I am sure, helped prompt the release of this set; but whatever the reason, I am absolutely delighted it is finally available. The songs are mostly excellent examples of their kind, the lyrics for the most part clever and powerful, the historical value great. I really suggest that History Departments take notice and get a copy. All the textbook accounts of the war never give the human side of things, and this CD will go a long way to letting the present young generation know how we faced all-too-familiar problems back then."

Fine music, tone-deaf pricing from Vivendi

Gene DeSantis | Philadelphia, PA United States | 05/09/2007

(5 out of 5 stars)

""This is the Army" is the first, and by far the greatest. When the word historic has lost all meaning this revue truly was -- perhaps the biggest show-biz charity fundraiser ever (for the Army Emergency Relief, which exists to this day), an incalculable morale booster on two fronts, a show whose too-small number of black players nonetheless helped break down the military's color barrier. It also sired the first major-label musical cast album; Decca rushed it into production at the end of July, 1942 to beat the AFM's notorious recording ban. That (and perhaps some reticence with an untested genre) may explain why the public only got four 10" 78s, shorter than they should have been. (Victor rushed its own studio recording into print as well, with mediocre arrangements and Fats Waller.) The following year Decca atoned for its mistake when it declared peace with the musician's union to record "Oklahoma!", making the cast album a permanent part of our musical lives. If we got only a fraction of what must have been it must have been tremendous. On the evidence this was Irving Berlin's finest score to date, and after the slog through multiple continents with a war hardened company he dug deep and wrote "Annie Get Your Gun." The tragedy is that no one tried to revive this show when enough of the boys were still alive, say in the eighties; perhaps Berlin, by then a hopeless recluse, turned it down. As touching and as stirring as these songs are it is preposterous that this score has remained all but buried since the last production in 1945. That this show is inextricably tied to a war is no excuse; the memory of a brave generation deserves better.



We go inevitably downhill from there, starting with the first track of "Call Me Mister", a postwar show with a lighter touch, and a lighter songwriter in several ways. Harold Rome could write a mean lyric, and he was good at the sort of situational humor that worked with topical shows, but despite his ambitions -- at the end of his career he foolishly adapted "Gone with the Wind" -- he just could not write the fine ballad that would have put him in the first rank. So where "This is the Army" can move the soul "Mister" just sits there, despite a haunting tribute to the "Face on the Dime." Its comic relief saves the day and it's pretty good as a recording too, as it's from 1946, and gives us a flavor of the old-time Broadway sound that makes these early albums so appealing. The four concluding sides of incidental music from Moss Hart's play "Winged Victory" are negligible. These are from David Rose, author of "Holiday for Strings" and patron saint of easy listening (until he wrote "The Stripper" and no doubt caused Red Skelton to swallow his kaddidlehopper). As might be expected from a man Spike Jones parodied he writes the most self-important music with the most showoffy grandiose charts, undercutting whatever patriotic feeling it had. His orchestral yelling even makes "The Army Air Corps" ("Off we go into the wild blue yonder") tiresome, a true negative achievement. It's easy to see why this has never been revived -- and never could be.



Despite its shortcomings of production (and in the last two works of inspiration), this is a fine and valuable recording. Which brings us to Vivendi. When the company revamped its cast-album catalog it decided to price these completely amortized albums at full-line-plus. It's especially galling here as all the selections from "This is the Army" and "Winged Victory" and at least one from "Call Me Mister" have enough surface noise and distortion to indicate they're likely from commercial pressings. Maybe Mr. Bronfman Junior needed the money for his ultimately failed investment; but such gouging underscores the contempt the record business has for its customers, whom it sees as saps whose pockets will empty endlessly when it grabs them face down by the ankles. The public is now richly returning the favor by tuning itself out to the majors and its endless parade of tunelessness. For all the gold-chained clan's howls of denial it isn't good for the record trade -- and in the end, by eviscerating the one stable source for new music, it isn't good for us."