Fresh Air - Best Of: Folk Musician Jerron Paxton / Lyricist Ira Gershwin's Legacy

Episode Date: December 6, 2024

Musician Jerron Paxton is known for performing music from the 1920s and '30s. He just came out with an album of his own songs, called Things Done Changed. Paxton brought some of his instruments to his conversation with Sam Briger. Also, Terry Gross talks with author Michael Owen about Ira Gershwin, the lyricist behind many of the most enduring songs in The Great American Songbook. TV critic David Bianculli reviews the documentary Beatles '64.Learn more about sponsor message choices: podcastchoices.com/adchoicesNPR Privacy Policy

Support for this podcast and the following message come from Autograph Collection Hotels, with over 300 independent hotels around the world, each exactly like nothing else. Autograph Collection is part of the Marriott Bonvoy portfolio of hotel brands. Find the unforgettable at autographcollection.com. From WHYY in Philadelphia, I'm Sam Brigger with Fresh Air Weekend. Today, folk musician Jaron Paxton brings some instruments to play for our conversation. He plays guitar, banjo, and harmonica. Paxton is known for performing music from the 1920s, but he just came out

with an album of his own songs called Things Done Changed. Most of these songs, if not all of these songs, came from a little bit of inspiration and also at least a little bit of pushing the pencil along the page, I think as Irving Berlin said. Also, Terry talks with author Michael Owen about Ira Gershwin, the lyricist behind many of the most enduring songs in the Great American Popular Songbook. Songs like Fascinating Rhythm, I Got Rhythm, It's Wonderful, Embraceable You, Let's Call the Whole Thing thing off and they can't take that away from me. He has a new book about Gershwin. And TV critic David Bianculli reviews a new Beatles documentary on Disney+. That's coming up on Fresh Air

Weekend. On the TED Radio Hour, don't you hate it when leftover cilantro rots in your fridge? I have to tell you cilantro is like my nemesis. Food waste expert Dana Gunders says that's just a hint of a massive global problem. Food waste has about five times the greenhouse gas footprint of the entire aviation industry. Ideas about wasting less food. That's on the TED Radio Hour podcast from NPR. It's cuffing season, the cold months where we might look for a warm somebody to cuddle

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from MaximumFun.org and NPR. This is Fresh Air Weekend. I'm Sam Brigger. Prior to his new album, Geron Paxton has been entertaining audiences with his take on music that's mostly 100 years old or older. Some of the music dates back to the Civil War. He plays folk music, blues, hot jazz, ragtime, and fiddle and banjo tunes among others. He's released several albums, but this new album, Things Done Changed, is his first where all the tracks were written by him. Songs that are deeply rooted to music

of the 20s and 30s and older, but reflects Paxton's contemporary feelings and observations about things like love, lost and found, gentrification, and finding yourself far from home. Paxton was generous enough to bring some of the instruments he plays to the studio today. If he had brought all the instruments he plays, he would have had to rent out a van. Guitar, fiddle, piano, harmonica, banjo, and the bones is not even a complete list. Paxton, who is 35, grew up in Los Angeles near Watts and has called himself a throwback in a family of throwbacks. He now lives in New York. Let's

hear the title track from the new album, This Is Things Done Changed. And it said baby it hurt me to my heart, together so long now we got to get apart, between you and me Seems just like time Can't be like it used to be You mad wondering what it's all about Have I pulled up, have I done, feels a lot of things change between you and me It seems like time can't be like it used to be Smiling face that sure could always be fine And I seem like your smile don't want me around Seem like thing to change between you and me That's the song Things Done Changed from the new album by Jaron Paxson of the same name. Jaron Paxson, welcome so much to Fresh Air.

It's good to be here. So as I said, you've released a few albums before, but this is your first album of your own compositions. Have you been writing all along but just recently decided to release these songs? Yeah, songwriting is a funny part of the life of a folk musician. Most of us folk musicians tend to play our culturally inherited music, which isn't quite the same as doing covers of other people's music, but you play music that's reflective of your culture.

And I've mostly done that. And every once in a while, something will inspire me and it'll stick around and you know I like writing music based on inspiration more so than anything so a few of these songs most of these songs if not all these songs came from a little bit of inspiration and at least a little bit of inspiration and also at least a little bit of pushing the pencil along the page I think is Irving Berlin said can you talk about how you approach the guitar like is there a particular? Guitar player that was very influential to how you play

well, I think My approach to music in general not just to guitar But to all the instruments I play, is to get the most out of them I can. That's the guitar, the banjo, the harmonic, all these things. Everything I like about those instruments, and especially the piano, is that in the style of music I was steeped in and brought up in, which is mostly the world, the country blues, there was this magical thing that would happen where one

musician would sit down and create this beautiful world where nothing was missing. You didn't need basses or drums or a second musician or anything. They just sit down with their fingers and their instruments and their voice and create this world where nothing was missing. So that's the approach I took to all my instruments and especially the guitar because that was the world that I was surrounded by. And just having that access to that real full sound is something I want to maintain. And I don't know, I think that's probably the biggest contribution to why I've remained

one of the few soloists out there. There's not too many people who can hold the audience's attention for, you know, two one-hour sets with just one person on stage and their instruments, but my audience has never seemed to be disappointed. I was wondering if you could show us perhaps with an instrumental like how you approach the blues. And the blues can be played lots of different ways like One of the one of the ways that it's often played is is like a simple three chord song But there's a lot going on in the way you play the blues. So could you demonstrate that?

I know you brought a guitar with you and I heard when you were getting ready that this is quite an old guitar, huh? Oh, yeah, this is a this is the cheapest guitar that Gibson made. Costs $4.95 when it was for, say, a little Kalamazoo. And when you say $4.95, I think you mean $4.95. $4.95, half a week's wages. So how old is this guitar then? Is it about 100 years old?

I think it's from 28, 29. So not yet a bird, not a century yet. So you said that when you're playing a guitar solo, you want it to sound like a bunch of instruments kind of playing together. Could you show us what that's like on the guitar? All right, all right. I got you there. I got you there. All right. Well, when you want that nice full sound out of the guitar, you've got to have a nice little rhythm behind you. And that could be just about anything. Let's try this one.

That's the rhythm of the song. So now you have this nice accompaniment to back up anything you want. And then you've got your voice which you can lay on top of it which I ain't doing nothing now but talking. But you also got some fingers that you can play with too. to give the guitar a nice little voice. That's Geraint Paxson with his guitar joining us today. He's a new album of all original compositions called Things Done Changed. Jaron, you grew up in South Los Angeles near Watts. What was your home like? Oh, it was a lovely place, I'd say. I was, you know, we didn't have too much money, but I was surrounded by the one thing you couldn't get enough of, which was love. And had a big multi-generational family.

I was in the house with my mother and my grandmother. And for the first few years, it was my grandpa, my uncle, my aunt. So it was with me, it was six of us in there. And my great grandmother was across the street. And, you know, three of her children were around her. And, you know, all the cousins would come over at least once a week to visit her. And, you know, so I grew up around lots of lovely family in a, you know, big backyard

that 80% of the food I grew up eating came out of. Well, you've said that you're a throwback from a family of throwbacks. What does that mean? Well, you could probably tell that just in music I love and my aesthetic that things at certain levels of contemporary don't quite appeal. And I tend to like, some people call it tradition, some people call it old fashioned, you know. I just like things of a certain aesthetic that tend to be a little bit older than what we have now. And my grandmother was the same way. She was born in 28 and she was sort of a throwback

to not her mother's age, she was born in 1906, but more her father's age, and he was born in 1886. In certain ways she was like that, but in certain ways, she was a very modern woman. So when you've got a person who's throwing back to the 1880s, you've got something there. And then her father was a bit of a throwback himself. And when you're a throwback and you're born in 1886... Pete Slauson You're going back pretty far. Reggie Harness You're going back a long way. He played a throwback banjo, which is sort of kind of why I played

this instrument. The instrument he didn't play didn't match his age, it more matched his parents' age, but that's the kind of person he was. It sounds like you were particularly drawn to the country blues. Like, what do you think it was that spoke to you? Well, it was the thing that spoke to me the most about the music was the tone of the instruments. And it's something till yet I still have a prejudice towards. I truly, at my heart of hearts, believe acoustic instruments have more power than any other instruments around.

Even hearing the same acoustic music through a speaker or through headphones or anything like that does not compare with having an instrument in the same room as you and having the air that vibrates out of that instrument vibrate you and your eardrums. And, you know, I've done it, I've experienced it as a participant and as an audience member. Just the emotional power of being in the room with somebody playing the instrument quite well, it can't be beat. And I think I could gather that at that young age through those old scratchy records, not even knowing what it was or having no idea.

Like I said, I was a seven, eight-year-old kid who, you know, first heard John Hurt and Scott Dunbar and Bucklewhite and people like that. And I didn't know, you know, I didn't know that there were two kind of guitars and things like that, but just the sonic beauty of those instruments just wrapped me up and took me away. And when did you start playing banjo? I started playing banjo before I played the guitar.

I started playing banjo when I was about, oh, I think about 13 and a half, about 18 months after playing the fiddle, and being pretty bad at that in my early days, and realizing most of the fiddle I like was surrounded by banjo music. You said your grandfather played the banjo like was surrounded by banjo music. Pete H And you said your grandfather played the banjo? Joe

He played the banjo, the guitar, and the fiddle, so I've heard. But this would be my great-grandfather. Pete Your great-grandfather. Joe Yeah, my grandma's daddy, who was born way back in 86. But according to granny, they had to run off a plantation when she was about six or seven or so years old and had to leave Joe's instruments behind then so nobody too much younger than her, which she was the oldest, which that includes everybody, nobody younger than her really remembers Joe playing any

instruments but she remembers seeing a banjo on the wall and hearing the sounds of it and guitars and fiddles and things like that. I don't know how great a musician he was, but she knows he played them. Well, you brought a banjo with you today. It's kind of a special banjo. Can you tell us about it? This banjo I brought with me here is one I've been playing for a while. It's an 1848 model banjo, a stictor model banjo, as they call it. They don't know how many of these, how popular these things got, but I like the way they're constructed. They tend to produce a mighty sound.

Pete Slauson On the song that you play on the album, it's all over now. In the liner notes, you say that you play this stroke style. Can you explain what that is or demonstrate that for us? All right. The stroke style is what they called in books published at the time is, I guess what they call claw hammer banjo now or freilin or whatever. And I think most of those words can be traced back to none other than the great New Yorker Pete Seeger. Pete Seeger had a big influence on banjo culture, much bigger than he's given credit for, which

I think includes finding those words and making them ubiquitous among banjo players. But the stroke style is you stroke the string with the tops of your fingers rather than picking it like that with each individual finger. You hit it with the top. You can hear the difference between picking and each one of those stroke notes have a little bit punchier sound, and you combine that with the way you play with your thumb, and you get a nice cross-cultural reference here. Ah, that's called Brand New Shoes. Jaron, that was great. Our guest today is Jaron Paxton.

His new album is called Things Done Changed. We'll hear more of the interview after a short break. I'm Sam Brigger and this is Fresh Air Weekend. You might have heard this song on TikTok blow up this summer. On It's Been A Minute, we're asking the big questions about dating. Like, is it okay to date with money in mind? And what are we really looking for from a man in finance? To find out, listen to the It's Been A Minute podcast from NPR. On the embedded podcast from NPR, what is it like to live under years of state surveillance? So many people have fear, fear of losing their families.

For years, the Chinese government has been detaining hundreds of thousands of ethnic Uyghurs. This is the story of one family torn apart. Listen to The Black Gate on the embedded podcast from NPR. When you were a teenager, you started having trouble with your eyesight. What was happening? Well, I'd had trouble with my peripheral vision my whole life, but then I had two different eye diseases that start to mess with my central vision. And once that started to happen, the problems with my peripheral vision got to be pretty unavoidable and, you know, in some

places got to be a little bitable and you know in some places got to be a little bit hazardous you know I don't know if you know but people from South Central especially during the day and time I grew up we didn't move too much and Los Angeles being a big driving culture you sure didn't walk any place you know I left as 18 year old I think, maybe walked a mile in my neighborhood and could count the times I did that on one hand. So things like curbs were a bit unfamiliar to me. So imagine a pretty healthy strapping boy just kind of bumbling and falling all over

the place. That's what I was up to for a little while. What's your eyesight like now? Oh, it's about the same. I still have big troubles with my peripheral vision, which stops me from driving. My central vision, I think it's better than what it was. But part of that is the technology's improved. I used to go around New York City with a little small telescope

around my neck to see things like train signs and street signs and things like that. Now that I'm an iPhone user, which I never thought I would be, I could zoom in on something 10 times, and that's actually a lot more handy than this little telescope I was using. Well, I think because of your eyesight, you had to reconsider what you wanted to do for work. Is that correct? Yeah, yeah. I was going to drive trains and things like that. And, you know, I'd probably have done some of the other laboring jobs that most of the folks in my family have done. But when I say not being able to drive is just about the biggest disability I have. It's really true,

you know. Since you were so interested in trains or you were interested in being a train driver as a kid, do you particularly like train songs? Oh, yeah, I think so. As much as people who like rural music tend to get stereotypes as loving songs about trains and mama. Uh, you, you can't help it, I don't think. But if I find a good train song, I'll sit and listen to it for a good while. Would you mind playing one that you like particularly? Oh, well, my favorite is probably the Pullman passenger train, uh, which I can't do here.

Let's see. Before you play the harmonic, I just want to say that like all the instruments you play, you seem to be able to make it sound like you're playing two different parts on the harmonica. So I just want, I don't know if you do that in this song, but I just wanted listeners to keep an ear out for that. Oh yeah. It's not sounding like I'm playing two different parts. I am playing two different parts. Oh yeah, okay. Fair enough. Let's see, maybe I'll start off, start off that harmonica has been set on hold on oh that's what's been set on too So Wow I'm going to be a good boy. I'm gonna be a good boy. I'm gonna be a good boy.

I'm gonna be a good boy. I'm gonna be a good boy. I'm gonna be a good boy. I'm gonna be a good boy. I'm gonna be a good boy. I'm gonna be a good boy. I'm gonna be a good boy. I'm gonna be a good boy.

I'm gonna be a good boy. I'm gonna be a good boy. I'm gonna be a good boy. That was great. Thank you. That was our guest, Jerron Paxson, playing the harmonica. Was that hard to figure out how to do? In the words of Fats Waller, it's easy to do when you know how. Okay. Well, that couldn't be more cryptic if I'd asked it to be. Yeah, I watched a video of you playing and singing a song, Hesitation Blues. All right.

Yeah, and no, no, no, but at one point you were singing and then you played the harmonica with your nostril at one point. Hey, there's a lot of different ways to skin a cat and entertain the audience here. Well thank you for doing that. Cheers. Jerron Paxton, I just want to thank you so much for coming in today to bring your instruments and playing some music for us. Thank you very much.

Thank you, Sam. Jerron Paxton's new album is called Things Done Changed. ["Things Done Changed"] Disney+, which already gave us the three-part Beatles documentary Get Back and the restored version of their Let It Be film, has another new Beatles documentary to present called Beatles 64. It covers a very short but significant period in the group's history. Our TV critic David Bianculli has this review. Good evening, ladies and gentlemen. Tonight, live from New York, the Ed Sullivan Show. Sixty years later, what can a new film say or show about the Beatles' first trip to America that isn't already familiar or that is presented in a significantly different fashion. As it turns out, quite a lot.

Beetle 64, the new documentary presented by Disney+, works really well at exploring and explaining an intense two-week period in musical and cultural history. Director David Tedeschi starts his film with the group's first trip to New York, landing at the newly renamed John F. Kennedy Airport on February 7th, and ends with their return to Liverpool 15 days later. In between, they holed up at the Plaza Hotel, reached 73 million viewers on their first appearance on the Ed Sullivan Show,

played their first U.S. concert in Washington, D.C., did a second live Ed Sullivan Show, played their first US concert in Washington DC, did a second live Ed Sullivan Show from Miami, and flew back home triumphant, leaving America in the first giant wave of Beatlemania. Beetle 64, the film, benefits greatly from behind the scenes and fan's eye view footage shot at the time by the Maisels brothers, Albert and David, who also famously shot film of early Bob Dylan, the Rolling Stones at Altamont, and Little Edie and Big Edie at Grey Gardens.

The group's first press conference at JFK has the press trying to make fun of the Beatles or treat them as novelties. But the four lads from Liverpool instantly win them over. When one reporter repeats the accusation that the Beatles are nothing but four Elvis Presley's, Ringo Starr wiggles his pelvis in response, and John Lennon follows, to raucous laughter from the reporters. From the very start, they treat the press not as something to fear, but something to play. Good point. Could you please sing with something?

No! Sorry. Next! There's some doubt that you can sing. No, we need money first. Our psychiatrist briefly said there's nothing but four Elvis Presley's. It's not two, it's not two. What do you think your music does for these people?

Well, it pleases them, I think. Well, they must do because they're buying it. Why does it excite them so much? We don't know really. If we knew, we'd form another group and be managers. Vintage interview and performance clips are collected and presented artfully. George Harrison, in an interview from the 90s, explains why the Beatles hit America and the press the way they did. The Beatles were very, I mean, they actually were funny.

Everybody in Liverpool thinks they're a comedian. I mean, that's a well-known fact. And all you have to do is drive up there and go through the Mersey Tunnel, and the guy on the toll booth is a comedian. You know, they all are. We had that kind of bread and born into us and when you just transposed it into New York or somewhere it was it was great I mean we were just

being hard-faced really and they loved it. And do you think it was being made even stronger by the fact there were four of you bouncing off one another? Absolutely yeah you just dried up and somebody else was already there with another fab quip. Another wonderful vintage interview from a decade ago has singer Ronnie Spector talking about how she and the Ronettes helped the Beatles escape from the Plaza Hotel, which was surrounded by a mob of adoring teenage fans. I'll tell you the truth. They had to escape. They were prisoners. So when I got a limousine, we went down the back stairs

and went to Harlem. I said, I'm taking you to Harlem. Nobody will notice you up there. And they didn't. They thought they were a bunch of Spanish dogs because of Spanish Harlem. So they didn't pay them any mind. We went into Sherman's Barbecue, it was called,

151st in Amsterdam. They went in and they loved it because nobody recognized them. You know, the black guys are eating their ribs and the Spanish guys, and nobody paid them any attention. And it was great. They loved that, that nobody paid them any attention.

See how sweet they were? They didn't care about stardom so much. Oh, we're going to be on Ed Sullivan. They said, Ronnie, who's Ed Sullivan? The film features new interviews as well. One of the film's producers, Martin Scorsese, conducts separate interviews with Paul McCartney and Ringo. McCartney is filmed at his Brooklyn photographic exhibit

from earlier this year, where he points out one of his favorite photos that he took during those two wild weeks. The Beatles are relaxing poolside in Miami, and George is being handed a drink by a young woman. The Liverpool guys, 15 years after World War II, and we're now here in Miami. This is the one that sums up the good life in Florida. It's got his shades on, it's got the sunshine, he's got his drink, and he's got the girl in the yellow bikini delivering it to him.

Instead of emphasizing the very familiar Ed Sullivan footage, Beatle 64 instead presents complete songs from the much rarer Washington, D.C. performance, which was filmed in the round in a boxing ring for a closed-circuit TV presentation. Giles Martin, the son of Beatles producer George Martin, remixed the music, and it sounds great. One of the young people in the audience that day was film director David Lynch, who talks about it. I was in high school.

I lived in Alexandria, Virginia. I was into rock and roll music, mainly Elvis Presley, who brought rock and roll music to the world, to me anyway. I ended up going to this concert. I didn't really have any idea that it was the first concert. I didn't, I don't know. And it was, I didn't have any idea how big this event was. And it was in a gigantic place where they had boxing matches.

The Beatles were in the boxing ring. It was so loud, you can't believe. I'm gonna turn baby, I'm gonna turn Baby I'm gonna turn you baby, baby saw you John, I saw you John, I saw you John, I saw you John, I saw you John. Other fresh stories come from such people as Jamie Bernstein, the daughter of Leonard Bernstein, record producer Jack Douglas, who tells a fabulous story about John Lennon, and Motown singer Smokey Robinson, who talks

of the importance of the Beatles covering one of his songs. A year or so later, he'd return the favor on national television by singing Yesterday with the Miracles. They were the first white group that I had ever heard in my life, the first white artist ever of their magnitude that I had ever heard in my life. Say, yeah, we grew up listening to black music. We love Motown. We listen to black music.

We don't love this person. No other white artist had ever said that. Not anyone of magnitude until the Beatles said that. By collecting the footage, gathering the stories, and presenting very generous samples of the songs, Beatles 64 makes it clear why the Beatles made such an impact. And why the group and its music continue to not only be remembered, but revered. David Bianculli is professor of television studies at Rowan University. He's at work on a book about the visual artistry of the Beatles.

He reviewed Beatles 64, now streaming on Disney+. Coming up, Terry talks with author Michael Owen about Ira Gershwin, the lyricist behind some of the most enduring songs in the great American popular songbook. We'll hear plenty of great Gershwin music. I'm Sam Brigger and this is Fresh Air Weekend. Breakup stories are going super viral online. Normalize posting why you broke up on the internet. I cannot believe I'm about to tell this breakup story and expose myself like this. On It's Been a Minute, we're asking the big questions about dating. Like what's the line between a juicy story and an invasion of privacy?

To find out, listen now to the It's Been A Minute podcast from NPR. Tis the season for rich meals, twinkly lights, and New Year's resolutions. At LifeKit, NPR's self-help podcast, we're here to help you make those resolutions less of a December and January thing, and more like a year-help podcast. We're here to help you make those resolutions less of a December and January thing, and more like a year-long affair. We've got shows that'll help you draw up plans to meet your goals, whatever they are. Get the tools you need all year round

with the Life Kit podcast from NPR. Our next guest, author Michael Owen, talks with Terry about the life and enduring lyrics of Ira Gershwin. His new book is called Ira Gershwin, A Life in Words. Here's Terry. The classic songs Lady Be Good, Embraceable You, Wonderful, Love Is Here to Stay, Let's Go the Whole Thing Off, Fascinating Rhythm, I Got Rhythm, I've Got a Crush on You, My Ship, The Man That Got Away, Long Ago and Far Away, I Could Go On.

They all have lyrics by Ira Gershwin. Most of his best-known songs were written with his younger brother, the pianist and composer George Gershwin, but Ira also wrote with Harold Arlen, Jerome Kern, and Kurt Weill. My guest Michael Owen is the author of the new book Ira Gershwin, A Life in Words. Owen was the archivist for the Ira and Leonor Gershwin Trusts until those papers were given to the Library of Congress. Owen now works with the Trusts as a consulting archivist and historian.

He's also the author of a book about the singer Julie London. Let's start with Ella Fitzgerald singing Lady Be Good from her 1959 album Ella Fitzgerald Sings the George and Ira Gershwin Songbook. It's the title song from an early Gershwin musical. Oh, lady, be good to me. I am so awfully misunderstood So lady be good to me Oh, please have some pity I'm all alone in this big city. I tell you I... Michael Owen, welcome to Fresh Air. I love the Gershwin's music, so it's a pleasure to be able to talk with you about it. I open with Lay to Be Good because I think it ties together the early part of Ira Gershwin's career with

the part in the 1950s when he wasn't really writing much and his career, his songs like needed a boost and Ella Fitzgerald's Gershwin's songbook really helped give him that. So can you talk a little bit about the importance of both of those ends, you know, the Lady Be Good musical and the Ella Fitzgerald Gershwin songbook? Thank you first off for having me on. 1924 was absolutely a big year for Ira. Ira and George had brought them together for the first time as a songwriting team to write a Broadway show. And because Lady B-Good was such a success, it fostered the rest of their career together. But by the time the

late 1950s came around when F.G. Fittsgerald recorded the songbook, Ira's career had come to an end. He might not have known that at the time, but it did. We know that now. And the songbook, one of a series of song books that L. Fitzgerald did of other songwriters of the period, brought a new light, a new focus on the songs that the brothers wrote. And so it was a commercial success, it was an artistic success, and it brought on a wealth of new recordings of those songs and others in the catalog and helped Ira financially quite well. George and Ira had very different interests and personalities.

George was more extroverted. Ira was more shy or wanted to stay more in the background. And you know, George was very musical. Ira was immersed in words. He read a lot. He kept a record of what he read. He started writing light verse that was published in the college magazine, or newspaper, and other places. Were they close as children, being so different from each other? Matthew McPherson They were only two years apart and they were the first and second children of Morris and Rose Gershwin. So they grew up together even though their interests were very separate. George was somebody who went out and got into fights and came home with a black eye. Iroh

was back in his room reading newspaper articles and magazines and books. So, you know, his life became more one of observation rather than activity, whereas George's life would have been a 180-degree difference from that. When Ira was young, either in high school or college, he became friends with Ida Parburg, the lyricist probably most famous for writing the lyrics for The Wizard of Oz. And he also wrote the very famous lyric, Brother, Can You Spare a Dime? And not only were they friends, and they often like talked about not only poetry and light verse, but also lyrics together. Ira actually contributed a couple of lines to Over the Rainbow from The Wizard of Oz. What was Ira's contribution?

Matthew Feeney Well, all three of the writers who were friends, Harold Arlen, the composer, and Yip Harburg and Ira, who had been classmates and writing partners together before when Arlen and Harburg had been hired to had been classmates and writing partners together before, when Arlen and Harburg had been hired to write the score at MGM for Wizard of Oz, they played the tune that, Arlen's tune that became Over the Rainbow for Ira, because he was a sounding board. And I must say that that was the way it was with all these writers of that period. They were all generally friendly to each other.

I don't think there was a lot of competition. I mean there was competition obviously, but there wasn't angry competition. So when the song was finished, or at least when Harberg and Arlen thought the song was finished, they came over to Ira's house and Arlen sat down at the piano and played the tune and Harberg sang the song. And Ira liked it a lot, but he felt like that there was something missing at the end, a coda to the song.

And so Ira was the one who came up with the line about the bluebirds flying at the end, which is one of the more famous lines from the song. If happy little bluebirds fly beyond the rainbow, why oh why can't I? Right and and I think that Sums up the song in many ways. It sums up the film. It sums up Dorothy's journey but I would I think he just was helping out his friends and

Whether he got credit for that or not Didn't really make that much difference to him and he did not get credit as a didn't really make that much difference to him. And he did not get credit as a person. He did not get credit, no, no. Why don't we just hear that code up, just hear the end of the song. rainbow while I can die. That was the end of Somewhere Over the Rainbow from The Wizard of Oz, and we heard those last couple of lines, which were actually written by Ira Gershwin. Ira read so many books and you know wrote light verse and some of the lyrics have really fun funny literary references in them and an example for that is But Not For Me which is a beautiful

song and it has a line I found more skies of gray than any Russian play can guarantee. One of his famous lines. Can you talk a little bit about that song and how it originated? Well, for me was one of the songs that was written for the 1930 musical Girl Crazy, which featured a very young Ginger Rogers. That was a song that Ginger Rogers sang in the show, a ballad that she sang. And it was also the show that brought Ethel Merman to everybody's attention. So, I Got Rhythm is in the same show. And it was perhaps the height of the Gershwin's silly shows by 1930, before they went into some of the political shows of the few years after, and then Porgy and Bess. But Not For Me is, it's a very romantic ballad, and you can take it

that way. But if you listen to the lyrics closely, you can hear both Iber's influences, because as you say, he read a lot and he had a huge library, but also his tricky rhymes about wedding knots and being that that was knot for me. Part of the lyric, and it's the end of the lyric, goes, when every happy plot ends with a marriage knot, and there's no knot for me. So a clever play on words. Matthew Feeney Absolutely correct. And I think that one of the things that Ira complained about sometimes was that in a theater, most people were never going to get that sense of the song. They were going to hear the two words and the two

sounds, not and not, and they'd think they were the same thing. And it was only the people who actually studied the sheet music or who sang the song professionally who might pick it up. But he did this on purpose. Why? Because he always wanted to have some fun with the lyrics. I don't think he ever thought of lyric writing, particularly in his early years, as a job so much as it was his way of making his thoughts about love and art known to the world of musical theater and film music and popular songs. And whether people got that or not, that certainly wasn't up to him. But he was very protective of his lyrics. And when singers would sing songs not in the way that he wrote them, singing I've Got Rhythm

instead of I Got Rhythm you know he was he was somewhat offended by that in a humorous way. It was the same with it's wonderful. Somebody sang it's wonderful you'd get pretty upset and I was listening to the Lee Wiley she did a whole set of Gershwin songs and she sings it's wonderful as opposed to it's wonderful but she's such a great singer anyhow Let's not get too distracted and here. Let's hear but not for me Should we hear Lee Wiley singing it? Absolutely. Let's hear Lee Wiley and and this is on her recording from the 1930s, right? Yes, Lee Wiley was she's generally a forgotten name in the world of popular song these days But she was one of the first performers to

do what we now call songbook albums. So, let's hear Lee Wilde's recording from the 1930s of George and Ira Gershwin's Songs of love, but not for me. Lucky stars above, but not for me. With love to lead the way I found more clouds of gray Than any Russian place could guarantee I was a fool to fall and get that way. I owe a lass and all, oh, like a day. Although I can't dismiss the memory of your kiss, I guess he's not for me. That was Lee Wiley, recorded in the 1930s, singing the Gershwin song,

but not for me. My guest, Michael Owen, is the author of a new book called Ira Gershwin, A Life in Words. What was their approach to writing together? Everybody wants to know what came first, the words or the music, and their approach to writing together changed over the years. It did. I jokingly would usually say that what came first was the contract. Sammy Cahn used to say that too. Yes, I think they all said that. Yes, in the early days, and I would say that it would have been from the 20s into the mid-1930s, it was usually George's melodic ideas that started the ball rolling for a song.

And it might just have been a fragment of a melody. And Ira had a very good memory for melodies, even though he couldn't really play the piano. But he did remember them in a certain way that kept them in his mind and could bring them back and try to remind his brother of something that might have been brought up a few months earlier. And it was a very unique relationship. I mean, I know that every songwriter worked in a different way, songwriting partnerships worked in different ways. But typically over the years, Ira would be at a little card table next to George at the piano and he would have his big sheets of paper with him and he would just scribble

out ideas. And if you looked at some of the archival material that I used in writing this book and went through Ira's papers as I did, you can see the vast amount of changes and ideas that flowed through his head as his brother was elaborating on these melodies. But eventually over the years, it became more of a joint partnership that it wasn't always the music that came first, particularly as they got into the so-called political musicals of the 30s of the I Sing and things like that, where the lyrics came more to the forefront of the show rather than the music. Memorable music, though it is, but it is the lyrics, the satirical nature of those lyrics that brought Ira to a new level where people were starting to compare him

to one of his idols, Gilbert, W.S. Gilbert of Gilbert and Sullivan fame. How did Ira Gershwin's life end? Well, Ira died in 1983. He had been housebound for a number of years. His last real work was in the early 1960s. And so after the end of the 1960s, which was basically the last time he traveled, he increasingly stayed at his house. He had had a stroke and various other physical ailments over the years, which were leaving him more incapacitated. But I will say that his final years actually were quite good ones because,

among other things, was the arrival of a young man by the name of Michael Feinstein, who I know you've had on your show, who was hired initially to sort of entertain Ira and wound up working on Ira's archive. And I did some similar work to what Michael did in terms of the archive, but certainly not entertaining Ira. I wasn't around then. And there was a piano that was brought up into Ira's bedroom, and Michael spent a lot of time at the house singing for Ira, some of the more obscure corners of Ira's catalog, which entertained a man who had become somewhat isolated. But it was a good life. It was a successful life. And, you know, it's certainly one that is well remembered by those of us who love great songs,

great lyrics, and a great American songbook. Danielle Pletka Michael Owen, thank you so much for talking with us. Michael Owen Thank you, Terri. It's been a pleasure. Michael Owen's new book is Ira Gershwin, A Life in Words. Fresh Air Weekend is produced today by Thea Challener. Fresh Air's executive producer is Danny Miller. Our technical director and engineer is Audrey Bentham. Our interviews and reviews are produced and edited by Phyllis Myers, Anne-Marie Baldonado, Lauren Krenzel, Teresa Madden, Monique Nazareth, Susan Ickundi, and Anna Bauman. Our digital media

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