Category Archives: Songs

Comments on songs and lyrics…

Volga(z)! Heave ho!

Sheet music (partition musicale) of 'Katanga', song by Hippolyte Ackermans & Charles Geuskens, lyrics by M. Roels, 1928, illustrated by Alfred Mariano Bernier.
‘Katanga’ by Hippolyte Ackermans & Charles Geuskens, lyrics by M. Roels, published by Mado Editeur (Bruxelles, 1928), illustrated by Alfred Mariano Bernier.

Voici le style moderne: the Katanga Fox Trot! The forthright and powerful cover made by Alfred Bernier has the typical Art Deco marks. A purified theme, rendered with honest lines and shapes. The natural forms are geometrically stylised, they become streamlined. Repeated elements create a rhythmic tableau of colours, shapes and letters for the song about a man longing both for the faraway land and the woman who lives there.

Lyrics-Katanga

We know next to nothing about Bernier. Having studied at the Académie de Bruxelles, he was active as an illustrator for Belgian music publishers during the end of the Twenties. He was born near Buenos Aires in 1888. We have two other covers in our collection, one of which is the black and white ‘Volga!’. This is thousand miles away from Katanga, but also a delicious Art Deco cover. The stark composition expresses the strength of the workmen and the violent wind. Again, repeated elements create a dynamic scene, frozen in time.

Cover for the sheet music 'Volga!' by Max Alexis and Charles Tutelier, published by Vergucht and illustrated by Alfred Mariano Bernier
‘Volga!’ by Max Alexis and Charles Tutelier, published by Vergucht (Bruxelles, 1929) and illustrated by Alfred Mariano Bernier.

Lyrics-Volga

The song by Charles Tutelier was probably inspired by the 1926 epic silent movie of Cecil B. DeMille, The Volga Boatman.

Volga boatman Poster Gablin

This big-scaled romantic melodrama, set in the 1917 Russian Revolution, was a shift from the usual anti-Bolshevik films, in that it also focussed on the oppression and the cruelty of the Czar’s regime and did not portray all the revolutionaries as just dumb and violent agitators. On the contrary, our hero is even susceptible to romantic entanglement. See for yourself in this short montage we made from the 2-hour classic of the silent screen.

The film gets an unintentional Dadaistic twist when the social order is being ‘revolutionised’ by the Reds.

The film was an international success and generated sheet music covers in many countries.

Two sheet music covers. Left: 'Le Batelier de la Volga' by Emile Liétard (Châtelineau, s.d.), unknown illustrator. Right: 'Song of the Volga Boatman' published by Keith, Prowse & Co (London, s.d.), unknown illustrator.
Left: ‘Le Batelier de la Volga’ by Emile Liétard (Châtelineau, s.d.). Right: ‘Song of the Volga Boatman’ published by Keith, Prowse & Co (London, s.d.). Both unknown illustrator.
Two-Sheet-Music covers: Left: 'Wolga Lied' published by B. J. Smit & Co (Amsterdam, s.d.) illustration signed F.K. Right: 'La Canzone dei Batellieri del Volga', published by A. & G. Carisch & C. (Milano, 1929), illustrated by Bonfanti.
Left: ‘Wolga Lied’ published by B. J. Smit & Co (Amsterdam, s.d.) illustration signed F.K. Right: ‘La Canzone dei Batellieri del Volga’, published by A. & G. Carisch & C. (Milano, 1929), illustrated by Bonfanti.
'Burlaki (Lied der Barkenschlepper an der Wolga' published by J. H. Zimmerman
‘Burlaki (Lied der Barkenschlepper an der Wolga)’ published by J. H. Zimmerman (Leipzig, s.d.)

One can wonder why in 1917 the title character had to work as a boatman on the Volga. For at least a few decades there hadn’t been any boatmen (Burlaks or barge haulers) working on the Volga. Cecil B. DeMille called this tampering with ‘details’ from the past, telescoping history. His reason was probably very Hollywoodesque: if the American audience knew one Russian song, then it undoubtedly was The Song of the Volga Boatman. Let’s take a minute to hear and see a poignant and primal rendition of the song by the Bulgarian bass Boris Christoff.

Ey, ukhnem!’ is the Russian title of the well-known traditional folk song. In 1866 it was published for the first time, with only one (disconcerting Boy Scoutish) verse:

The firm stance of Christoff calls to my mind the posture of the gentleman singer drawn by Jules David  for the song ‘Ténors et Basses’.

Detail from the sheet music cover for 'Ténors et Basses' (Air Bouffe) , by Paul Henrion, lyrics by Emile Barateau, published by Colombier (Paris, s.d.)
Detail from the sheet music cover for ‘Ténors et Basses’ (Air Bouffe) by Paul Henrion, lyrics by Emile Barateau, published by Colombier (Paris, s.d.)

In 1873 Ilya Repin finished his iconic (almost 3m wide!) painting of burlaks along the longest river of Europe, in Tsarist Russia. It both condemns inhumane and harsh working conditions, while also saluting the dignity and long-suffering of the exhausted working class.

Painting by Ilia Efimovich Repin (1844-1930): Volga Boatmen (1870-1873)
Ilya Repin: ‘Volga Boatmen’ (1870-1873), State Russian Museum, St Petersburg (131.5 cm × 281 cm)

It was not only in Russia that ships were pulled by manpower along a tow path. Wherever it was impractical to sail, human force was used to drag the vessels. In the second half of the 19th century it apparently was a favourite theme for painters.

Painting by Frederick Arthur Bridgman in 1875: Towing on the Nile.
Frederick Arthur Bridgman: ‘Towing on the Nile’, 1875.
Painting by Telemaco Signorini: L'alzaia, Cascine di Firenze, 1864
Telemaco Signorini: L’alzaia, Cascine di Firenze, 1864

We found unsettling photographs of this human labour.

Burlakwomen photographed on the Volga, 1900s (Wikipedia)
Burlak women photographed on the Volga, 1900s (source: Wikipedia)
Photograph: On the towpath along the river Po, around 1920-1930. (source: G. Giarelli, La cultura del fiume: i barcari del Po, 1986/1987).
On the towpath along the river Po, around 1920-1930. (source: G. Giarelli, La cultura del fiume: i barcari del Po, 1986/1987).
Een man en een vrouw trekken samen een trekschuit door een binnenkanaal. Plaats onbekend, 27 mei 1931.
Man and woman towing a cargo-boat through a ship-canal. The Netherlands, 1931 (source: Nationaal Archief).

Later vehicles and beasts of burden replaced the human pullers, before the work became obsolete when ships were fitted with engines. Towing paths now offer pleasant walks and tourist rides.

Photograph Canal du Midi: chemin de halage (2014)
Canal du Midi: chemin de halage or tow path (2014)

One more thing. Volga also was the name of a car manufactured by GAZ in the USSR from 1956 on. The Soviet nomenklatura chose the Volga as their favourite car to commute between the Kremlin and their dacha. For many Russian generations the brand became the symbol of style and success. The first model was the GAZ-M-21. But then, that’s a completely different hobby…

(credit: Youtube’s Ramzis123)

Yes, We have no Bananas

no bananas
‘Yes! We have no Bananas’ by Frank Silver and Irving Cohn, published by Salabert, Paris in 1923 and illustrated by Roger de Valerio.

A newspaper article on the threat of a banana shortage brings to mind the song Yes! We have no Bananas. The origin of the song is not clear. Allegedly it was inspired by a shortage brought on by the Panama disease, a soil-based fungus which attacks the roots of the plant. As the banana is a monoculture crop, this means that if something goes wrong, the whole crop can be lost. The earlier and more tastier banana variety Gros Michel (or Big Mike) was thus completely wiped out in the 1960s. Today the Gros Michel is replaced by the Cavendish, but it is still a monoculture and it is no longer resistant to a more virulent strain of the Panama disease. About 10 years ago this new strain started to destroy plantations in Asia and Australia, threatening the Cavendish banana with the same fate as its predecessor.
Roger de Valerio, an illustrator with a vivid imagination, apparently didn’t read the original lyrics before illustrating the cover of the French version of Yes! We have no Bananas. He simply associated bananas with the stereotype of the black mammy and black people. To my dismay, this old stupid cliché is sometimes voiced on our soccer fields. For the cover of the original American sheet music Sol Wohlman straightforwardly illustrated the story: a Greek American greengrocer who tells his customers, in broken English, that he has no bananas to sell.

There’s a fruitshop down our street,
It’s run by a Greek,
And he sells good things to eat,
But you should hear him speak,
When you ask him anything,
Never answers “No”,
He just yesses you to death,
And as he takes your dough he tells you:

Yes! We have no bananas,
We have no bananas today…

no bananas original
‘Yes! We have no bananas’ by Frank Silver & Irving Cohn, published by Skidmore Music Co., Inc, New York in 1923 and illustrated by Sol Wohlman (not in our collection, Johns Hopkins University, Levy Sheet Music Collection)

Wohlman himself falls into the trap of stereotyping when, for another sheet music cover, he caricatures a typical Italian person. Notice the similar exotic mustachios, earrings and mischievous eyes.

A typical Italian man drawn by Sol Wohlman (partition musicale - illustrated sheet music), 1923
Caricature of an Italian man drawn by Sol Wohlman for the cover of ‘When it’s Night-time in Italy It’s Wednesday Over Here’ published by The Lawrence Wright Music C°, Leicester, 1923.

Back to our song. After Eddie Cantor used the novelty song in one of his Broadway revues in 1922, it topped the charts in America and became a smashing  success all over the world.

bananas europa
Left: ‘Si, non ho piu banane!’ by Frank Silver and Irving Kohn, published by Carlo Lombardo, Milano (s.d.) and illustrated by Roveroni. Right: ‘Bananen’, by Frank Silver and Irving Kohn, and translated by Fritz Löhner (Beda), published by Wiener Bohème – Verlag, Vienna in 1923.

The song inspired a follow-up song “I’ve Got the Yes! We Have No Bananas Blues”.

bananas blues copy
Left: ‘I’ve Got the Yes! We Have No Bananas Blues’ By Lew Brown, James Hanley & Robert King, published by Shapiro, Bernstein & C°, New York in 1923 and illustrated by Politzer. Right: The same song published by Salabert, Paris in 1923 and illustrated by Roger de Valerio.

Again, Roger de Valerio gets the wrong end of the stick about the song’s content. It is obviously a mockery about a man who cannot stand the earworm, nicely illustrated by Politzer. Although de Valerio is to me the better illustrator, he once more gets his inspiration from a black people stereotype, palm tree and all.

In France the song spawned spoof versions, emphasising that the chauvinistic French didn’t suffer a banana shortage: Chez nous y a des bananes (We have bananas!). For illustrator Clérice, selling bananas is not a Greek merchant business, but a job for shrewd African vendors.

les bananes
Left: ‘La Marche des Bananes’ by Vincent Scotto, published by Salabert, Paris in 1923 and illustrated by Jacques Boullaire. Right: ‘Chez nous y a des bananes’ by René de Buxeuil, published by La Parisienne, Paris in 1923 and illustrated by Clérice frères.

The great Maurice Chevalier performed another parody: We have pineapples! (Nous avons des ananas!).

les ananas
‘Les Ananas’ by Fred Pearly & Max Eddy, published by Salabert, Paris in 1923 and probably illustrated by Roger de Valerio.

This in turn was an inspiration for the silly song ‘Nana n’a pas d’ananas’ (Nana has no pineapples).

nana
‘Nana n’a pas d’ananas’ by Dior & Delly, published by Dior, Paris s.d. and illustrated by Jean Chevalier.

Time to listen to the song. Mind you, it will stay with you for the whole day and slowly drive you mad as a box of frogs. I prefer the version by the Pied Pipers from the 1948 musical film ‘Luxury Liner’.

And because I adore Billy Wilder, I include a German version of the song from the Cold War comedy ‘One, Two Three’. The film features James Cagney as Coca-Cola’s head of West Berlin operations trying to get Coca-Cola into the Russian market.

I’m looking for…

'Ich suche Dich Titine (Je cherche après Titine)', by Léo Daniderff and German text by Friedrich Hollaender.
‘Ich suche Dich Titine’, music by Léo Daniderff and German text by Friedrich Hollaender (Victor Alberti Musikalienhandlung, Berlin, 1922).

This gorgeous sheet music cover was created by Katerina (Käte) Wilczynski. Born in Poznan (1894) she studied and worked in Leipzig and Berlin where she illustrated books. She travelled a lot in Europe, especially to Greece. In 1939 she definitely moved to London where she died (1978). She was known for her portraits and street scenes, later also for her landscape drawings.

A drawing of a street scene in Paris (1928) by Katerina Wilczynski.
Katerina Wilczynski: a street scene in Paris (1928).
Left: illustration for 'Kyrie Eleison' by Waldemar Bonsels (1922). Right: portrait of Joyce Cary by Katerina Wilczynski, pen and ink, 1954 (National Portrait Gallery, London, 4822).
Left: illustration for ‘Kyrie Eleison’ by Waldemar Bonsels (1922). Right: portrait of Joyce Cary by Katerina Wilczynski, pen and ink, 1954 (National Portrait Gallery, London, 4822).

Strangely, having discovered that she was ambidextrous she let each hand play its own part in the creation of the drawing. I love this greeting card that she made for a friend in 1974. Perhaps because travelling by memory is what we also do in this blog with many hands.

Wilczynski's good wishes for 1975, drawn when she was eighty.
Wilczynski’s good wishes for 1975, drawn when she was eighty.

The sheet music above is the German version of the original French song that was sung by so many poilus, as the infantrymen were called during the First World War. The tune of Je cherche après Titine’ had been written by Leo Daniderff (1878-1943), presumably in 1917 for his loved one, the physically disconcerting Gaby Montbreuse. Daniderff had ‘russianised’ his first name (he was born Ferdinand Niquet), which earned him the nickname faux Russe (‘false russian’). This (or his talent) also earned him success: he became the composer of hundreds of popular songs and helped the career of many celebrities.

We haven’t yet found a French copy of Je cherche après Titine’ with a worthy illustrated cover. Here and there you may find a petit format, a small and cheap publication of the song written by Marcel Bertal, Louis Maubon and Emile Ronn.

Petits formats (small sheet music) of 'Je cherche après Titine'.
‘Je cherche après Titine’, two ‘petits formats’ or small sheet music found on Du temps des cerises aux feuilles mortes.

In 1922, the same year as the German publication, Carisch launched the Italian version of the song: Io cerco Titina. The flapper on the cover for this ‘ultimo successo internazionale‘ is by Roveroni.

'Io cerca Titina'
‘Io cerca Titina’, with Italian lyrics by Guido di Napoli (Casa Editrice Carisch, Milano, 1922).

Not at a viral speed but still in a steady pace, the song conquered the world. In 1924 we find this beautiful American Titina sheet music cover.

Titina sheet music cover by Harms Inc. 1924.
‘Titina’, published by Harms Incorporated (New York, unknown illustrator, 1924).

Jack Hylton‘s orchestra popularised Titina as a hyper danceable foxtrot. But we’lll listen instead to a Billy Murray 1925 recording of Titina, and sing along its refrain:

I’m looking for Titina – Titina, my Titina,
I’ve searched from Palistina, to London and Peru.
I’ll die without Titina, I can’t eat my farina,
I don’t want Rose or Lena, Titina I want you.

Warning: the following old label has nothing to do whatsoever with our story, except the brand name and its roaring looks. We couldn’t resist…

Tinned tomatoes.
Titina label for a brand of tinned tomatoes.

There is no better way to conclude this article than by viewing the ultimate Titine dance and singing act by Charlie Chaplin in Modern Times (1936).  How very ironic that for his first ‘talkie’ Chaplin uses nonsense words, or what do you make out of “La spinash o la bouchon Cigaretto Portabello Si rakish spaghaletto Ti la tu la ti la twah” ?

And while for many years the whole world was looking for Titine, at last someone found her:

‘Titine’ by Jacques Brel, 1964.