Screenland (Jul-Dec 1948)

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'Cause "Love of My Life," from "The Pirate" with Judy Garland and Gene Kelly, would by any other name sound as sweet as his greatest songs, 'specially when it comes under the dexterous tonsils of the glorious Lena. Oodles of that throbbing sultriness cover you through a pulsating beguine, Jean. And the flip — wow! The one L.H. killed 'em with in her brilliant engagement at N.Y.'s Copa a while back, "Deed I Do." Scrape me off a saucer and call me buttercup if it doesn't make you flip your toupee! What a bounce, and what interpretation! And that L.H. doesn't stand for Lennie Hayton or Luther Henderson who conduct respectively and so perfectly. What appealing squealing! (MGM) ANDY RUSSELL: "Long After Tonight," "What Do I Have to Do." Della's boy is sproutin' with some nice spoutin' from "Arch of Triumph" on "Long After Tonight," bulgin' with the flavor of the Champs Elysee, May. Oh, that Bergman! Hubba! Backside has the chief sprout in the Russell menage trading wordage in a cute hunk of holler from "Are You With It?" and you will wanna be with this slab. (Capitol) BUDDY CLARK AND PEARL BAILEY: "Inside U.S.A." Smack from the Howard Dietz-Arthur Schwartz musical which set the apple on its core (knocked Broadway out) comes a sheaf of fine noise. Buddy's thorax is on four cookies and my girl Pearl's on two. The lark named Clark throws his head back for "Rhode Island," "First Prize at the Fair," "My Gal Is Mine Once More" and "Haunted Heart." And Pearl is her usual wonderful, languorous, sly self on "Blue Grass," a clever bit 'bout a chick losin' her man to the ponies down Kentucky way — "there's just no way to compete with poundin' feet" — and "Protect Me" on the other cheek. This album'll be inside many a pad in the U.S.A. molte allegro. (Columbia C 162) DUKE ELLINGTON: "Air Conditioned Jungle," "It's Monday Every Day." E.K.E. ekes out another in that never-ending stream of classics in "Jungle," 'cause the woodwind of Jimmy Hamilton (clarinet) is right in the side pocket, the way he pushes it around. Masterful technique! And that "Jungle" sure is airy, Mary. Underneath sits a fine lot of the epiglottis of Al Hibbler which vibrates so provocatively on "Monday." Make room on that shelf, elf. (Columbia) DANNY KAYE: Look out, you rascal, 'cause this Kaye kid doesn't tread softly on your ears, but what goes in sure does tingle. Like this newie "Ballin' the Jack," which is actually an old jazz tune Ga. Gibbs fried so joyfully on Majestic. Plenty of the moisenflay which is solely Daniel's on this and its mate, gate, "St. Louis Blues" — all adding up to melodious mayhem that you'll wanna put in your vest and let it rest. Fine barbecue! (Decca) BERYL DAVIS: My giryl Beryl, the Hit Parade maid, blooms forth with a cauldronful of biscuits that flows as gen tly as the Aft on. There's a single skimmer, "Spring in December," backed by a saucy little opus, "I Wanna," which rocks lightly and politely and Beryl right along with it. Then for the entree, there's a whole fresh album, "Beryl By Candlelight," which is just as soft and warm by gaslight or incandescent light. 'Tween its covers the English chick caresses "Mad About the Boy," "Alone Together," "Please Be Kind," "All Alone," "Auld Lang Syne," "They Didn't Believe Me," "The Touch of Your Lips," and "Tea For Two." And Beryl for me and you. Oh, such tasty sips from those pretty lips. (Victor album P 201) DORIS DAY AND BUDDY CLARK: M-m-m, strawberries! Dodo — I mean "Sparkle Plenty," and the "Baritone Lark" together for the price of one. They fit like filet of sole and tartar sauce on a brace of clever cuties, "Confess" and "Love Somebody." Buddy's Doris' echo on the first, which is perf for August romancin' and dancin'; the other cheek, tho, is the one that'll be luring all that green stuffin' from your little waistcoat 'cause it's custom-made for the gym, milk bar, apothecary or club cellar, feller. Really loaded for bear and a sure smash. What a team, hey! (Columbia) NATURE BOY: It always happens when there's a terrific waffle on a song. All the companies rush out with their versions. There's Sarah Vaughn (Musicraft) , Nancy's daddy (Columbia) , and Skipper's Pop, Dickie Haymes, (Decca) . All are cooked a capella, with voice backgrounds because of the record ban, but none of 'em touch Nat Cole's haunting slicing embroidered with Frank DeVol's great background. S'gonna be another "Xmas Song," in a class by itself. The more the merrier, tho, if some of that beautiful philosophy gets across. MARGARET WHITING: Just as welcome in August or any month is Maggie's grooving of "April Showers," which rains so refreshingly on your pink shelllike ear. S'from the pix of the same handle and is mated with some pretty notes from "The Lady From Shanghai," "Please Don't Kiss Me," which is impossible after the way it bubbles from Mrs. Whiting's daughter's throat. So, Maggie, there. (Capitol) JIMMY DURANTE: Aw, g'wan home, yer mudder's callin'. Probably wants to hear the fresh Durante waffle, "Chidabee-Ch-Ch" and "The Day I Read A Book," which is packed with effervescent humor and mirth right from the upper Durante berth. Wonderful tiling about Jimmy, you can enjoy him almost as much when you hear him as when you glim him. Whatta great artist! (MGM) BUDDY RICH: Of all the new bandleaders, Buddy's the guy who should be most likely to succeed. Has more talent in his finger than most all the guys put together, great drummer, singer and dancer, and even wears a Windsor knot. How much talent can you have! His first enchilada for MGM records spots that rhythmic Rich larynx on "A Man SCREENLAND