Audio
Charles A. Robertson : March, 1957

As an individualist in a world of conformists, Moondog is often a lonely figure as he plods the street of Manhattan. With this second collection of the unexpected ways in which the roving imagination finds expression, it is possible to know him well by means of the tape recorder which follows him on his travels.

He is heard attempting to match his bamboo pipe to the Queen Mary’s whistle, pummeling a drum with ostrich feathers and playing the Oo and Trimba, instruments of his own invention. Visits to his home include an interlude in which his cocker spaniel Ninon is introduced, along with further examination of his unconventional rhythmic ideas.

An extended monologue follows the processes of the unconscious as methodically as Stein or Joyce. The sound is good for portable equipment and the editing arranges the sixteen tracks for a varied sampling.

—–

Kansas City Star
Joseph Kaye : 04/07/1957
Rock ‘n’ Roll’s High Priest Calls Dizzy Antics Normal

There is a theater in Brooklyn that will soon be cordoned off by the police. This action will be necessary because on April 19 a stage show will arrive consisting of rock ‘n’ roll.

This means that throngs of teenagers will converge on the movie house, and in the absence of adequate protecting force, its very walls will be in danger.

The Brooklyn Paramount theater managers know what happened when similar shows played there, and they know what happened to the Times Square Paramount last month when a visitation from rock ‘n’ roll brought out the police, the firemen and the building inspectors – the latter to examine the balcony floor against the possibility of collapse from pounding feet.

Then, of course, we all know what takes place when Elvis Presley is on hand. But Presley apparently is only related to R&R. His is mainly a personal following.

What is rock ‘n’ roll? Where did it come from? Why does it have such an effect on our youth?

Visiting the Top Man.

The high priest of rock ‘n’ roll, and the one generally accredited in the music industry with being the originator and chief spark plug of the movement, is a dynamic young man named Alan Freed. It was Freed’s show that played both Paramount theaters here and caused the excitement that drew nationwide attention, and it is he who will generate further super energy in Brooklyn later on.

Freed’s business is that of a highly-starred disc jockey on a local radio station, WINS. Every evening except Sunday, for several hours, he conducts the “Rock ‘n’ Roll Party,” playing the new inspirations in this field to the joy of a vast number of listeners and the satisfaction of an imposing list of sponsors. In between he presents R&R shows at theaters, when he directs a band and a company of rockers. He also has made movies, all phenomenally successful. One of them, “Rock Around the Clock,” cost only $350,000 to film, but has already earned a profit of $3 million dollars.

Freed has a 2-acre home in Stamford, CT, where he lives with his wife and four children. It is from there that he broadcasts, shunning New York except Mondays, when he broadcasts from the studio and attends to business.

The “Rocker Artist.”

I talked with Freed one Monday afternoon in his workroom at WINS, which is a small littered room stacked with records. It is said Freed is the chief repository of all the rock records from wherever issued – which means several hundred a month now – and he is meticulous in his search for the genuine rocker artist.

From his retreat in Stamford or the radio studio, he passes severe judgement on the little 45s that flow in to him, and he will use only originals. It appears there is a practice in the recording trade of copying interesting products, transcribing the arrangements faithfully. These, it is claimed, are out for Freed.

The first thing Freed wanted to talk about was to deny there was anything startling about the rock craze or – more important – that there was anything wrong with the teenagers – “kids,” in his vocabulary – who love it.

“How about when Benny Goodman first played at the Paramount 20 years ago?” he queried. “There was what they called a riot then, wasn’t there? It was no riot in my language, but there surely was excitement, and they had to play the national anthem to get the commotion down. And Sinatra – when he was ‘Frankie,’ not ‘Frank.’

“And how about Rudy Vallée before that? Didn’t he cause mob scenes?

“The kids always like something new and exciting. They have been drugged for 10 years by crooners and ballad singers, and they would have accepted any change. Look, I’ve played to about 600,000 people since coming to New York about three years ago, and I doubt if more than a couple of dozen kids were tossed out for being over-energetic. I should say 97 percent of the kids are good kids – and the other 3 percent we’ve always had.”

Some Parents Alarmed.

This is not what many the kids’ elders think. They have been impressed with the tumultuous reception given the rock artists, not only in this country, but in other parts of the globe. London has seen the same sort of excitement, so has Australia, and even in unlikely Jakarta, Indonesia, a theater balcony began to tremble when the foot-pounding got heavy. So sizable segments of our population think rock ‘n’ roll is bad for the public morale, and in some instances it has been banned.

After Freed’s stand in the Times Square Paramount, when 175 policemen eventually were called out to bring order out of the mass upheaval, psychologists began analyzing the phenomenon. They reached the conclusion that a new dance contagion had hit us, something like the St. Vitus dance of the Middle Ages, the dervish dance of the East, and other forms of dance frenzy. They called the beat of the rock a rhythmic narcotic that drove youngsters into a wildness, and they also believe that yielding to this was a compensation for frustrations.

What actually is rock ‘n’ roll?

Experts here say it is merely the older “rhythm and blues,” which in turn is a mixture of blues and country music. Roughly speaking, rock ‘n’ roll is jazz with a strong beat, rendered by vocalists with stylistic gimmicks like grunts, growls and staccato burps, often sung to unconventional words.

He Coined a Phrase.

But there seems no such confusion where the name “rock ‘n’ roll” is concerned.

That seems to have been originated by Alan Freed. he claims it was, and opinion seems to confirm his claim.

Freed says he was a disc jockey on television in Cleveland when a local record store proprietor suggested he do a radio program composed entirely of “rhythm and blues.” Freed agreed, the show was arranged. Then came the question of a title for it. “I threw out the name rock ‘n’ roll,” said Freed, “and that was it.”

There’s a side issue here. A man from Kansas enters the picture, a most unusual individual, one known as Moondog.

Moondog is the assumed name of Louis Hardin, a native of Marysville, KS, son of a minister. When he was 16, his family moved to Hurley, MO, where the explosion of an electric dynamite cap blinded him.

Hardin had a musical urge. At schools for the blind he acquired a substantial musical education. His father had left the Episcopal ministry and had become a farmer. Louis, handicapped by blindness, drew further away from a normal existence and took to wandering about.

He lived for some time near Indian reservations and adopted the name “Moondog,” which sounded like Indian, and seemed picturesque for a strolling musician. He finally arrived in New York and tried to make a living composing songs. When he got nowhere, he went out on the streets, playing his music on a triangular stringed instrument he invented and tuned to his own scales, and on drums also of his design. He wore a khaki blanket over his whole body and wrapped his feet in cloth.

In the Payoff.

So he was known on the streets of New York. While he took his stand he incessantly composed music on a Braille board hung under his robe. Various people sympathized with him and some off-beat groups played his music. Then a Broadway music shop, the Spanish Music center, helped him make a recording of his “Moondog” music.

Here the man from Kansas and rock ‘n’ roll begin to get mixed up.

Three years ago Hardin sued Freed for using his name without authorization. He claimed Freed’s program in Cleveland, now transferred to New York, was called from the outset, Moondog Rock and Roll, that Freed described himself as the king of the Moondoggers and applied the title “Moondoggers” to his listeners as a sort of identification. He also claims that Freed used some music from his record as the introduction theme to his show.

Hardin says his record came into Freed’s hands and that the Moondog involvement in his program followed.

The court upheld Moondog’s claim and awarded him $6,000.

Moondog has now been taken up by Prestige Records of New York, which has issued two long-playing albums, Moondog and More Moondog. Some of the titles are typical – Big Cat, Frog Bog, One to Nine.

Hardin has appeared on a number of TV shows, including Steve Allen’s. But He still wanders around the streets in his togo-like robe.

“My way of life,” he says, “was imposed on me by my blindness. A blind man can do little to earn a living. I wear these clothes because I like them and feel free in them, but I’ve been wearing them also because I wanted to draw attention to myself and my work. Now that I have become known, maybe I can lead a more ordinary life. This year will be the 10th anniversary since I began using this outfit. I’m going to celebrate it by wearing a suit and shoes.”

—–

Pittsburgh Courier : 06/22/1957
Harold L. Keith : 4 stars

“I do not dress as I do to attract attention, I attract attention because I dress as I do,” explains Moondog during the monologue which highlights his latest esoteric offering form the Prestige lab.

Moondog’s album is designed to delight the ear of the intelligentsia and geared to challenge the best in hi-fidelity equipment. Throughout the disc Moondog offers pearls of wisdom which encompass a vast range of thought. For example: “One thing about life be it said, it feeds upon itself, over and over and upon itself is fed” … “Down is up and up is down because the earth is round there is no such thing as up” … “Thus the clown worse cap and gown for she lived by degrees and died by degrees with a frown.”

—–

Liner Notes by Robert S. Altshuler

Those who have looked forward to another edition of Moondog following his first Prestige album (LP 7042) will welcome this collection because it is Moondog, but more so.

The unexpected directions taken by Moondog’s roving imagination are represented here by sixteen examples. His most striking characteristic, refusal to recognize the customary separation between sound and the academic definition of music is persuasively shown again.

With an almost naïve indifference to the sheer volume of his foil, Moondog attempts a duet with the deep-throated whistle of the Queen Elizabeth and his Bamboo Pipe. His occupation with waterfront sounds is perhaps more successfully realized in the Tugboat Toccata. In Hardshoe, Ray Malone’s crisp tap dancing is superimposed upon Moondog’s equally crisp, though hardly conventional rhythmic accompaniment.

It is thus as a fusionist that Moondog often achieves his most rewarding results. He is not restricted solely to the matching of disorganized sounds and the organized sounds of music. Autumn for example, contains an appealing combination of French horn, reed, and Moondog’s self-styled rhythmic instruments.

More Moondog also affords several intimate glimpses into the personal life and philosophy of Moondog. The rest period during Violetta’s Barefoot Dance lesson permits us to join Moondog as he plays with his dog, and entertains his guests, until the stern voice of the teacher calls for a resumption of work, and music. The long and discursive Moondog by Moondog is of such an individualized nature, I would rather you draw your own conclusions.

The wide variety of sounds which have been absorbed into Moondog’s world of music serves another, though incidental purpose. Today’s deep interest in faithful sound reproduction will make this album a welcome companion to your phonograph. If you are a Hi Fi buff, More Moondog will “fuse” well with your system.