Ebola Music Radio Special

At EgoPlum.com: ''NOW PLAYING! A very special edition of the Ebola Music Radio show celebrating 100 years of Mad Genius composer/inventor Raymond Scott. The show includes super-rare tracks, amazing covers, and an interview with RaymondScott.com founder and CD producer Jeff E. Winner.'' Radio host Ego Plum is the composer of the musical score for Nickelodeon's newest animated TV series, the strange and hilariously bleak, "MAKING FIENDS." >>> Listen to the radio special: here.

Let 'em hear cake!

Above: Clavivox cake by Sarah Albu, Montreal
Below: Bakery birthday cake ordered by Ego Plum, Los Angeles

Portrait by DREW FRIEDMAN

A portrait of our revered musical control freak by renowned caricaturist (and Raymond Scott fan) Drew Friedman. The image depicts a beaming RS at the controls in a spaghetti-tangle of mic cords while his legendary 1937-39 Quintette runs through the ninety-sixth take of "Screwball Music for a Pack of Weary Sidemen."

You can buy a signed, limited edition fine art print of the painting: HERE. We're offering 30 numbered & titled giclée prints signed by the artist in a large (16" x 15") wall display format. The launch price is $300 for each of the first ten prints, after which the price will increase as the edition sells out.

Strange as it may seem considering the popularity and stature of Mr. Friedman's imagery, this is the first time his work is being offered in a signed limited edition.

P.S.: The tightest comprehensive bio of Scott ever — 650 words — posted at BoingBoing.com.

P.P.S.: Scott concert Sunday afternoon, Sept. 14 at West Point.

Directory Assistance

Today marks the Raymond Scott centennial. Our guy was born Harry Warnow on Sept. 10, 1908, in Brooklyn. We celebrate and pay tribute—but twenty years ago, such an anniversary observance was unlikely.

I've been a free-form DJ at WFMU radio since 1975. We're allowed to spin anything, without regard to genre. In the mid-1980s, I began airing a mix cassette of 78 rpm disc transfers of the Raymond Scott Quintette. The group's idiosyncratic titles (e.g., "War Dance for Wooden Indians," "New Year's Eve in a Haunted House," "Dinner Music for a Pack of Hungry Cannibals") were composed by the band's namesake leader. I didn't know anything about Mr. Scott, but soon discovered he was an intriguing figure of once-gargantuan stature whose name had slipped into the dustbin of music history, his accomplishments forgotten or unrecognized, a prime "Where Are They Now?" candidate. Only later did I learn that Scott, besides composing nutty titles, was a quasi-jazz pianist, orchestra leader, pioneering audio engineer, inventor of electronic music machines, and all-around eccentric control freak.

The cassette was compiled around 1985 by a friend in L.A., artist Byron Werner. Byron is a vinyl obsessive who coined the phrase "Space Age Bachelor Pad Music" to describe a broad genre of pleasant, sophisticated instrumental pop of the 1950s and '60s (e.g., Esquivel, Martin Denny, The Three Suns). By the 1980s, these relics were long out of vogue and reviled by hipsters. It was music for geeks. Like me. Raymond Scott was not part of this genre. He was something else. When Werner gave me the cassette, he explained, "You might recognize this music from Bugs Bunny cartoons." Though I had never heard these recordings and recognized neither the titles nor the composer, there was something curiously familiar about the music. It sounded like quintessential cartoon soundtrack fodder of the 1930s: frantic, wacky, edgy, and …. well, animated, with a layer of surface noise and compressed fidelity that affirmed its vintage.

I began airing tracks from the tape—and invariably the phones lit up, especially when I played a wild recording called "Powerhouse." Listeners wanted to know the title because they'd heard it before but didn't know where. I said it was from cartoons, which usually elicited the reply, "Where can I get it?" Since the recording was out of print, I dubbed copies of the cassette for dozens of listeners, friends, and fellow staffers. I attempted some research — pre-www: in libraries — about this Scott character but turned up little. He was an occasional footnote in jazz chronicles, and what few encyclopedic thumbnails I discovered mentioned nothing about cartoons.

In 1988 Steve Schneider published That's All Folks!—the first major monograph about classic Warner animation. The book included a full page about WB music director Carl Stalling's penchant for the "merry melodies" of Scott, who was, it turned out, in no way connected with cartoons. He didn't even watch them. Stalling, through a publisher's license, had adapted a dozen Scott titles in hundreds of Bugs Bunny and Daffy Duck cartoons in the 1940s and '50s. Scott's music thus became genetically encoded in every young earthling—few of whom knew the source.

My passion for Scott's music, fueled by the injustice that such a major figure could or should be overlooked, eventually led me to Scott himself. Once again Byron Werner was the conduit. He found Scott in, of all places, the Los Angeles telephone directory, living in Van Nuys. He called and talked to Scott's wife Mitzi, who explained that Raymond, his speech impaired by a 1987 stroke, could not carry on a conversation. She explained that Scott could no longer work and that their finances were desperate.

Werner passed along Scott's number, and after making initial contact with Mitzi in January 1991, I agreed to officially represent her husband's music and revive his deserving legacy. Ironically, this was the second catalytic instance of Scott's name being plucked out of a phonebook. Around 1934, Harry Warnow sought a musical nom-de-plume to differentiate himself from his then-famous older brother, orchestra conductor Mark Warnow. Harry told interviewers he selected the name "Raymond Scott" out of the Manhattan phone directory. He thought the moniker had "good rhythm."

Harry, Raymond, Mr. Scott—whatever. Happy one hundredth birthday. Let's get going on the next hundred years.

Happy 100th Birthday: 1908-2008

Jeff Winner, who co-produced Manhattan Research, Inc., offers his 100th birthday toast: 

Much of my understanding of the 20th century came from Raymond Scott. Over the past 15 years I've studied his fascinating career and life in great detail; this gave me a greater awareness of the achievements of the past 100 years. The 1900s saw dramatic leaps of human advancement and technological invention. Scott was inspired by the optimistic spirit of this progress, and became a major player in both artistic and technical ways.

On September 9, 1908, Orville Wright made the first experimental flight to catch air for an hour. The following day, coincidentally, Raymond Scott was born. Scott's musical journey started as a kid with a player piano in his dad's music shop. In 1949 Scott wrote music that foresaw "the first experimental rocket express to the moon." Twenty years later, NASA did it. While aviators went from Kitty Hawk to the moon, Scott went from a player piano to synthesizers, sequencers, and homemade drum machines. They were both striving for a celebration on the planet Mars.

Happy birthday, Raymond, and thank you for the history lessons. I'm certain Earthlings will love your work even more in another 100 years. Especially if they're listening during a commute to the moon.

The perils of gluttony

Sweet Wishes, a short film by Mark Ryden and Marion Peck. Donuts and cheesecake in the prop budget. Mops, too. Soundtrack: "And the Dish Ran Away with the Spoon," by RS + The Secret 7, chipmunked vocals by Dorothy Collins.

Current Buzz

Stu Brown's Raymond Scott Project has launched a website. The group's mission is to introduce the original RSQ repertoire to a new generation of Euro audiences. Stu (at drumkit, left) recently began adding RS electronica into the mix, but his program largely offers an updating of early Scott Quintette tunes. He is also prospecting for an album deal.

The plunderphonically mischievous Bran Flakes have been given free reign to scavenge the Scott catalog and mash up a centennial remix album for 2009 release. More on this as-yet untitled project as it develops.

The U.S. Military Academy Band at West Point will present an all-Scott recital on September 14. Admission is FREE. I'll be on hand to offer an introductory talk about RS and screen the trailer for Stan Warnow's work-in-progress documentary about his father, the composer.

The student band at the Manhattan School of Music will perform "Powerhouse" on October 14.

"Powerhouse" also makes two cameos in the soundtrack of a new film, RockNRolla, directed by Guy Ritchie, slated for Oct. 8 release. View trailer here. (Spoiler alert: "Powerhouse" ain't in it.)

But were the musicians smiling?

Nice shot of RS in conductor mode, probably counting down "take 214-a" while band members glance at the clock, mutter imprecations, and wonder if they'll make last call.

Likely vintage: 1950. Apparently snapped when RS was at the musical helm of Your Hit Parade, which jumped from CBS radio to NBC-TV that year. Clue: haircut (similar to photos of RS leading his 1948-49 quintet; he later sported a crew cut on YHP); suspenders and elegant tie, both of which seem late-1940s/1950 vogue.

HT: Stan Warnow for the scan.

Raymond Scott: The Musical

ACT 1, SCENE 1 A basement in Brooklyn. Saturday. 

GRANDFATHER: Who in the basement makes such noise?

YOUNG BOY: Methinks should I, ere this box opn'd
T'would suffer most grievous shellacking
Yet respond I must and feign surprise
Ho, Grandfather, 'tis I that ventured
To this most subterranean homesick place.

GRANDFATHER: Ay, t'were foretold one day the boy would come To find the discs that music play'd To rent the air with kitt'nish pseudo-jazz and end these years of peace My heart darken'd. O lost! 

YOUNG BOY: Yet who hailed as king 'mid these ancient tunes?

GRANDFATHER: Dare speak I not, nor say the name 'Tis now struck twelve; get thee to bed, lad. 

YOUNG BOY: For this relief, much thanks: 'tis bitter cold, And I am sick at heart. 

GRANDFATHER Fear not the turgid trembl'ng within thy bowels 'Tis but Grandma's chili racing for the exit.

They both laugh. The doorbell rings. Grandfather opens the door 

Enter two friends of Grandfather -- Marcel and Fellatio

YOUNG BOY: What, is Fellatio there?

GRANDFATHER: Welcome, Fellatio: welcome, good Marcel.

MARCEL: What, has this thing dost appear'd again to-night?

GRANDFATHER: I have witness'd naught.

MARCEL: Fellatio says 'tis but our fantasy, And will not let belief take hold of him Of this dread music, twice heard of us: Therefore I have entreated him along With us to listen the minutes of this night; As new year's eve in a haunt'd house That if again this apparition cometh, He may approve our eyes and speak to it.

FELLATIO: Tush, tush, 'twill not appear.

GRANDFATHER: Sit down awhile; And let us once again assail your ears, As the kittenish pseudo-jazz doth assail ours That are fortified against our story What we have two nights heard. 

FELLATIO: Well, sit we down, And let us hear Grandfather speak of this.

GRANDFATHER: Last night of all, When yond same star that's westward from the pole Had made his course to illume that part of heaven Where now it burns, Marcel and myself, The bell then beating one,--

Enter Ghost of Raymond Scott

MARCEL: Peace, break thee off; look, where it comes again!

GRANDFATHER: In the same figure, good radio's hit parade.

MARCEL: Thou art a scholar; speak to it, Fellatio.

GRANDFATHER: Looks it not like the bandleader? Mark it, Fellatio.

FELLATIO: Most like: it harrows me with fear and wonder.

GRANDFATHER: It would be spoke to.

MARCEL: Question it, Fellatio.

FELLATIO: What art thou that usurp'st this time of night, Together with that fair and warlike form In which the majesty of Shirley Temple Did sometimes march? By heaven I charge thee, speak! 

MARCEL: 'Tis offend'd.

GRANDFATHER: See, he stalks away!

FELLATIO: Stay! speak, speak! I charge thee, speak!

Exit Ghost 

MARCEL: 'Tis gone, and will not answer.

GRANDFATHER: How now, Fellatio! You tremble and look pale: Is not this something more than fantasy? What think you on't?

FELLATIO: Before my God, I might not this believe Without the sensible and true avouch Of mine own eyes.

MARCEL: Nor would I aver The entire quintette, should they arise.

FELLATIO: As thou art to thyself: Such was the very tux he had on When he the ambitious cartoon scor'd; So frown'd he once, when, in an angry parle, He smote the grievous saxophone man. 'Tis strange.

MARCEL: Thus twice before, and jump at this dead hour, Thus pow'rhous'd hath he gone by our watch.

FELLATIO: In what particular thought to work I know not; But in the gross and scope of my opinion, bodes bumpy weather o'er the new ark.

MARCEL: Good now, sit down, and tell me, he that knows, Why this same strict and most confusing watch So nightly toils the subject of the land, Among a fleet of brazen cabs, And soothing sounds, the playful drummer; Why such impress of stalling made, whose sore task To score the moods of stutt'ring pigs and insane poultry? What might be toward, that this sweaty haste Doth make the reckless night with the day: Who is't can inform me?

FELLATIO: That can I; At least, the whisper goes so.

[to be continued ...] 

by Don Brockway

Ducks, Bugs, Penguins, and Wooden Indians

Stu adds: "I don't remember Donald Duck being a Warner Bros. character." Little known fact: Donald auditioned for Looney Tunes, but was deemed too unstable for the role. He later caught on as a bit player for Disney and parlayed early waddle-ons into a respectable second-tier career. He had a lifelong predilection for bitchy dames and bad cars. Until his 1983 death from cirrhosis of the liver, Donald remained bitter and resentful at the star treatment accorded Mickey.

Stu Brown's Raymond Scott Project

Stu Brown's Raymond Scott Project is on the bill at the Edinburgh Jazz Festival Thursday evening (31 JULY), at the Jazz Centre, Grassmarket. Besides the classic Scott Quintette repertoire, Stu promises some new material, including his arrangement of "The Toy Typewriter" (from Soothing Sounds for Baby), performed with toy typewriter and digital effects unit. The work also features elements from the "Ripples" work tape (from Manhattan Research Inc.). Stu will also appear on Radio Scotland's Radio Cafe to talk about the RS project on Tuesday 29 JULY. You can listen online.

Scott wrote ...

Here's an index of Scott compositions in the online ASCAP database. This is not a complete list of titles. The eminently hummable "IBM MT/ST: The Paperwork Explosion" is omitted, but the unforgettable, hook-filled "Look for the Hotpoint Difference"—go ahead, whistle that melody!—is included. Go figger. The database includes publisher info and a half-hearted survey of recording artists for each title. "Half-hearted"? We've collected recordings of 59 different artists covering "Powerhouse." The ASCAP database lists nine—and these include "Bass S," "Byron D," "Don Byron," "Sid Bass," "Raymond Scott," "Scott,"and "Scott R." It's an imperfect system. They are working on the problem. Please stay on the line. Your call is very important to us.

Sleepytime

On March 12, a compulsively dedicated and immensely talented Raymond Scott devotee named Adam O'Callaghan directed and performed in a monumental cross-genre Scott centenary concert at Concordia University, Montreal. O'Callaghan recruited 50 or so acoustic and electronic musicians — students and professionals — in various ensemble settings.

The program offered repertoire from Scott's 1937-39 cartoon-jazz and 1948-49 chamber-jazz Quintets; orchestral works; the composer's elegant but rarely heard 1950 Suite for Violin & Piano; tunes from the idiosyncratic 1960 Secret Seven album; and pioneering proto-electronica from Manhattan Research Inc. and Soothing Sounds for Baby. The proceedings included re-enactments of Scott's 1950s electronic TV commercials and a rhapsodic replica of a Space Age Scott invention, The Fascination Machine. The concert was a mind-boggler, never likely to be duplicated. Dozens of performance videos from the concert are on YouTube. One performance (just posted) was particularly stunning and unexpected — a surprise collaborator accompanying the trio Unireverse on Scott's electronic lullaby, "Sleepytime" (from Soothing Sounds). The guest arrives onstage three minutes into the performance.

Mrs. Raymond Scott at 90

Mitzi Scott belongs to a generation among whom it is considered improper to give a woman's age. However, we've been advised by her family that she won't mind us revealing that she turns 90 today. What we won't divulge is her birth name. Just call her "Mitzi."

Mitzi and Raymond met in July 1966—he was recently divorced from his second wife, Dorothy Collins—and they were married six months later. That Raymond was an idiosyncratic man obsessed with music and technology was a fact of their marriage. They lived together at Three Willow Park, a Long Island industrial development which Raymond was comfortable calling home.

"He would come into the living quarters for lunch, and I would put his lunch on the table and go back to the kitchen to get my lunch," Mitzi recalled. "By the time I returned to the table, he was gone. He was back in the lab.

"If he awoke at four in the morning and had a great idea, he would get up. Then he might work until 7:00 or 8:00 or 9:00 in the morning, and then go back to bed. One night I woke up—it was around three or four in the morning--and he was hanging over the side of the bed reading some notes, with the lamp on the floor so he wouldn’t wake me up."

Not content merely having Mitzi prepare lunch, Raymond recruited her for projects. "Even before we got married, he had me wiring," she laughed. "He taught me soldering, and to attach the red wire to the blue wire, and the yellow wire to the green wire. I didn’t like doing it—but I got pretty good at it."

Of course living with Scott meant music was part of the package—although it might not be Mozart or Chopin.

"We would be having lunch, with the Electronium on in the next room," she recalled. "He would just leave it on—it was a self-working machine. It composed and performed at the same time. Sometimes it would play something lovely, and I would say, 'Oh my, isn’t that a pretty phrase!' And it would repeat it as though it had heard me and said, 'Well, if you like it that much, I’ll play it again!' It was so out of this world."

When Raymond was hired by Berry Gordy to work for Motown in 1972, Mitzi oversaw the move to Los Angeles. They settled in Van Nuys, remaining in the same home on Valerio Street until Raymond's death in 1994. Two years later she sold the house and moved to Santa Clarita.

Besides living with and taking care of an eccentric musical genius, over the years Mitzi also took in dozens of stray dogs and cats, many rescued from local shelters.

Mitzi was a dancer in the 1940s. Here's a publicity photo from back in the day. She still dances—not professionally, but with a group of spry senior gals.

Thanks to Bianca Bob for 1993 living room photo above.