We’ve made it to the end.
Or rather the beginning.
The pre-chart era is outside my area of expertise. But some of these have remained in the public consciousness – up to and over a century on:
George Formby:
When I’m Cleaning Windows
Contrary to the belief that sex was invented in the 1960s with the emergence of The Beatles, there’s this. In which George reveals that his job as window cleaner is a pervert’s paradise.
The song, from 1936, was used in the film Keep Your Seats, Please. Which did not extend to featuring any of the illicit goings on window cleaner George witnessed.
The things he’s seen. It’d make a nun blush. Being the 1930s the sex is strictly moderated, George is no one’s idea of a sex symbol and his cheeky chappy persona keeps it just the right side of lewd. That didn’t stop the head of the BBC, a sober Calvinist Scotsman named John Reith banning it from radio, declaring:
If the public wants to listen to Formby singing his disgusting little ditty, they’ll have to be content to hear it in the cinemas, not over the nation’s airwaves.”
George’s ukulele-centred act saw him rise to being one of the most popular entertainer in Britain through the 30s and 40s.
The Beatles were fans and paid tribute to him with the ukelele coda to Free As A Bird, played by George Harrison.
According to someone more attuned to these things, the first few seconds of When I’m Cleaning Windows are the ukelele chords from Free As A Bird – played half a step down.
While John Lennon’s voice played backwards, recites a Formby catchphrase:
“Turned out nice again.”
Here’s an edited version with George entertaining the troops in France.
Marie Lloyd
A Little Of What You Fancy Does You Good
Going even further back. And it’s not difficult to imagine what the little of what you fancy is. The innuendo may be more restrained again compared to George. But for the time, it was considered risque.
That was just a reflection of Marie Lloyd in general.
Born in 1870, she was on stage at 15 and became a huge star, known as ‘Queen Of The Music Hall.’
Marie popularised this song, first performing it in 1915. She was well used to creating a furore with suggestive lyrics and performances. This one pointed to a personal reflection of her as a middle aged woman who sees no shame in following her desires.
Offstage there was more drama than comedy.
She married three times and divorced twice. Suffered domestic abuse at the hands of two of those husbands and her final years were beset by alcoholism.
She died of heart and kidney failure at 52, any fortune she might have made from her fame long gone.
Here’s a performance from 1943 by her daughter Marie Lloyd Jr who followed in her footsteps on stage.
Harry Lauder
Roamin’ In The Gloamin’
Harry: Whose image shouts out:
‘Is this Scottish enough for you?’
Like Marie Lloyd, he was born in 1870, and although he took longer to get going: by 1911 he was reportedly the highest paid entertainer in the world, touring the world and earning $1,000 a night. He also wrote his own material, including this one.
His life was a lot more settled than Lloyd’s: no impropriety.
And a sign of his standing is that on his death in 1950 both Winston Churchill and soon to be Queen Elizabeth sent flowers.
For those in need of an interpreter, “roamin’ in the gloamin'” refers to walking with his beau in the twilight.
Flanders and Swann
The Hippopotamus Song
I’ve cheated. I thought this was pre-1950 but turns out it dates from 1957.
Given that it feels earlier and they had first performed together while at school in the ’30s I’m leaving it in. Plus I’d already started writing when I realised my mistake.
Michael Flanders is the singer and lyricist. He contracted polio while serving with the Royal Navy Maritime Reserve in WW2 leaving him in a wheelchair. Donald Swann is on piano, vocal interjections and composition.
They had a propensity for animal themed songs. This was their first with gnu, warthog, elephant, rhino, sloth and many more to follow. The Hippopotamus remains the best known.
Two of their concert revue performances were recorded for album release in the 1950s by…. no great surprise:
George Martin.
George Van Dusen
It’s Party Time Again
Implausibly, this charted at #43 in December 1988. A mere 51 years after release.
Information on George is limited. There’s a wiki page for George Van Dusen, but that’s a 19th century grain dealer from New York. His profile doesn’t sound like the guy singing this who went by the sobriquet of The Great Dutch Yodeler.
Despite the name, George wasn’t Dutch. He wasn’t even George. His real name from what I can find is Thomas Harrington.
Hailing from the East End of London, his grasp on geography and culture may have been limited as he chose a name that associates with the Netherlands rather than the more yodel-centric Switzerland.
The verses are sober enough. But George lets loose on the chorus, living up to his nickname: the yodeling bit.
Arthur Askey
The Bee Song
Described as a nonsense song. Which is an insult to bees.
Then again, Arthur appears to agree; “Silly bee song isn’t it?”
Delivered in the manner of man who has had too much sugar and caffeine, Arthur really goes for it, especially on the chorus.
Gracie Fields
The Biggest Aspidistra In The World
‘Our Gracie,’ as she was known, hails from the same neck of the woods as George Formby, a few years behind him.
At a time when most English film stars reverted to a clipped formality in their accent, she kept her distinct Lancashire accent.
In her case it helped her profile rather than hindered. So much so that by 1937, she had eclipsed George as the biggest film star in Britain and signed a deal with 20th Century Fox that supposedly gave her “the highest salary ever paid to a human being.”
A sentence that suggests a non human was earning more. Perhaps Rin Tin Tin or Cheetah had a better agent.
The Biggest Aspidistra was co-written by Tommie Conner. Who we met in the 50s as writer of Never Do A Tango With An Eskimo.
Here’s a live performance from 1977 when Gracie age gave quite a different tone to her voice.
Leslie Sarony
Jollity Farm
I know this one reached America:
As a Google search of the title brings forward an actual Jollity Farm in El Dorado County, California. Satisfying all your handcrafted goat’s milk, cheese, soap and lotion needs.
You can even bottle feed the kids. As in, the baby goats. Not your actual human kids.
You can do that at home, you don’t need to go to a farm for that.
Anyway, before I distracted myself:
Written and recorded by Leslie Sarony in 1930.
The opening line sets it out as a response to a recent song called Misery Farm. It sounds like the animals are having a whale of a time. Just no one mention the words pork chops. Or beef ribs. The cats and dogs should be OK though.
Jollity Farm is just the tip of the iceberg, Leslie is also responsible for;
- I Caught Two Cods Cuddling
- The Sizzle of the Sausage
- Ain’t It Grand to be Blooming Well Dead
- Umpa Umpa Stick it up Your Jumper
- There’s a Song They Sing at a Sing-Song in Sing-Sing
My personal favourite is:
I Found A Hard Boiled Egg In My Lovenest. An evocative title if ever there was.
Monty Python fans may have seen him without realising. He’s in the Crimson Permanent Assurance short that acts as a prelude to The Meaning Of Life.
Series alumni Bonzo Dog Doo-Dah Band had a go at it. Here’s their typically restrained effort.
Flanagan and Allen
Run, Rabbit Run
Onto the war section. Given the times, it was fertile ground for songs mocking the enemy or to forget the fear and hardships. This doesn’t immediately sound like a commentary on the times, especially as its performed by Bud Flanagan and Chesney Allan.
Who as well as being a duo in their own right were also part of The Crazy Gang troupe of comics.
On the other hand, it’s certainly no Jollity Farm for the rabbits. The song debuted just a month after WW2 started and would quickly be adapted with the lyrics referring to Hitler and the Germans being the ones on the run.
It would take a while and some help from across the waters, but eventually it came true.
Noel Coward
Don’t Let’s Be Beastly To Germans
I’ll take a guess that if any of these performers names are familiar, it’s Noel.
He was a man of many parts; actor and playwright, singer and songwriter. Appearing as the height of sophistication with a line in charming repartee and quick wit.
He wasn’t born into high society but his success allowed him access into it. And he projected that image.
Composed by Coward in 1943, it’s a satirical take that presents itself as the face of forgiveness – but winds itself into indignation at the thought of absolution.
In his own words, it is:
“A satire dedicated against a small minority of excessive humanitarians… taking a too tolerant view of our enemies.”
The complaints of the many members of the public made it clear that they didn’t get the joke. The angry reaction of listeners thinking it really was advocating being nice to Germans led to it being banned by the BBC. Winston Churchill got it, though.
Apparently requesting (possibly demanding) Coward perform it numerous times at one show he attended.
The song also reportedly holds the distinction of the first use of the word ‘bloody’ on the BBC. It appears people were to busy being annoyed at the thought of not being beastly to Germans to notice. Or maybe the more pressing matter of the blitz meant they were prepared to overlook such language.
Harry Champion
Any Old Iron
Any Old Iron was a traditional shout of rag and bone men who would trawl the streets looking for unwanted scrap that they could sell on. The shout alerting householders to their presence.
The original version was released in 1911 with later recordings adapting the lyrics including a WW2 version, with a new final verse expressing patriotism and encouraging donation of any old iron to the war effort.
A year before Any Old Iron, Harry had performed the original version of I’m Henery The Eighth, I Am.
A whole 55 years before Herman’s Hermits would top the Billboard charts with it.
Elsie And Doris Waters
Knees Up Mother Brown
I’ll leave you with the mother of all party anthems. A ‘knees up’ is a party, rather than an exhortation for Mother Brown to run faster, harder, stronger.
This one goes way back, so much so that it’s not clear when it originated or who from, but by the 1800s it was a popular song in pubs across the East End of London.
The East End is a traditionally working class area. So the song serves in marked opposition to the usual view of buttoned up Victorian prudishness and morals.
The identity of Mother Brown may possibly be Queen Victoria. Who, after the death of Albert was in need of a good knees up. In more ways than one.
One reading is that she just needed a party to cheer her up. Another is that getting her knees up referred to sex. With her servant John Brown being the man to do his patriotic duty. Hence Mrs. Brown:
If you’ve seen the 90’s Judi Dench / Billy Connolly film, you’ll know the story.
It took until 1938 for it to finally be published. And in 1940 a version by sisters Elsie And Doris popularised it for posterity. Being from the East End themselves they were the ideal match for the song.
And on that note:
The novelty has finally worn off.
I hope you’ve enjoyed the journey back through time.
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As you might imagine, none of these songs or artists ever reached the Hot 100
You’re overdue a Harry Lauder or George Formby revival.
I often find my mind wandering to ponder the statistical nature of things:
There are nearly 9,000,000,000 people on planet earth. What would be the odds that within the past 24 hours, someone had consecutive earworms of Motortown, followed by The Biggest Aspidistra In The World?
If anybody wants to do the math, I’m willing to learn.
Given that to my ears the aspidistra song is far from the biggest earworm out of this lot I’d say that lengthens the odds even further. I can’t decide between Jollity Farm, Any Old Iron, Knees Up Mother Brown and The Hippopotamus Song as to which is the most invasive.
At least with Motortown and Aspidistra you’re broadening your range of earworm far from the usual suspects.
We strive for variety.
I fancy it.
Oh, and these songs, too.
Well, it will do you good.
Music hall and vaudeville are really important for UK (and US) music history, so it’s not surprising that the novelty tunes more or less stem from that lineage.
Three cheers for these obnoxious ancestors, and for the MC who Leeds them!
Vaudeville / music Hall did a good job in spreading these songs to large audiences who then had the novelty of being able to buy recorded versions. As evidenced by what I found for Knees Up Mother Brown with its roots stretching back 100 years or more from it’s first recording in the 1940s there must be a lot more songs that didn’t make it to the recording age.
Tracking down 19th Century novelties may prove more difficult and won’t have quite the same impact if there’s no recorded version. For now my work here is done.
Great series closer as were your previous entries, JJ! For those of us on the other side of the Atlantic, it’s interesting to note that Flanders and Swann still had enough mystique with someone at CBS to give the duo a TV special that pre-empted The Carol Burnett Show in 1967, during her first year of her series.
I have not had a chance to read this/listen yet, but I am so looking forward to it. Maybe over the weekend.