32:15

Ep. 116 Jun 2, 2026

Double Middles

This week’s Three Tune Tuesday is personal, political, and unapologetically defiant. When Donald Trump attempted to stage a partisan concert and seven of nine scheduled artists declined to participate upon learning its true nature, it was a reminder that saying “no” is one of the most powerful things an artist can do. That act of refusal — of drawing a line and refusing to let your name, your talent, or your reputation be used for something that conflicts with your convictions — is the thread that ties together this week’s three selections. We open with Eva Tanguay’s “I Don’t Care” (1922, Nordskog Records), the only recording ever made by the woman known as the Queen of Vaudeville, whose entire career was built on the radical act of not giving a damn what anyone thought of her. From there we move to Gus Van’s “Promise Me Everything, Never Get Anything Blues” (1923, Columbia), a Tin Pan Alley blues complaint about being strung along by someone who talks big and delivers nothing — a sentiment that needs no further explanation in the current moment. We close with Bert Williams’ “Never Mo’” (1920, Columbia), a song monolog by the greatest Black entertainer of the early twentieth century, a man who spent his entire career navigating a system designed to exploit him while denying him basic dignity. “Never mo’” — nevermore — is the final word, the line drawn in permanent ink. Sometimes the most important thing an artist can say is no. Sometimes the most eloquent gesture is a double middle finger. Bert William’s Silent Movies Fish (1916) Natural Born Gambler (1915)

52:04

Ep. 115 May 25, 2026

The Billy Murray Story

Today would have been his 149th birthday, and we are marking the occasion by telling the story of Billy Murray — the Denver Nightingale, the Phonograph King, the Irish-American kid from Colorado who talked his way into a New York recording studio in 1903 and never really left. We open with a song he recorded on his own birthday in 1922, a comic gem that catches him at the height of his powers and right on the edge of the upheaval to come. From there we travel back to one of the defining recordings of the acoustic era — a love song to the automobile that became so embedded in American culture it outlasted practically everything around it. And we close with the song that proved he still had it, a Jazz Age novelty that put him back on the charts at 47, even as the industry was quietly pulling the rug out from under the technique that had made him famous. Three songs, three decades, one remarkable career — happy birthday, Billy. Lyrics I Certainly Must Be in Love Mamey McShane was a dumb, dizzy dame that lived over on Hoist Avenue. She couldn’t be beaten for dancing and eating those two things was all that she knew. She met Jimmy Peter, a nifty cake eater, one night at the gasp at a stall. That guy danced her lame, now the girl’s all kidmame, but here’s how she answers them all. Since I met that kid, I’m clean off a mean litchie, I certainly must be in love. I can’t do me work and I can’t sleep at night, I’m dreaming of moiders and boiklers and fights. That guy’s got me vamped when he looks in me lamps, I feel like I’m in heaven above. We go to a dance and get home about two, but I don’t get upstairs till the boys start to coo. When I stand in cold hallways and flight with the blue, gee, I certainly must be in love. Jimmy’s not smart, but that guy’s got a heart that’s as big as a homemade mince pie. And gee, ain’t he jealous of those other fellas that speak to me when I pass by. But he needn’t fear him, I wouldn’t go near him if they gave me diamonds and coins. I’m strong for me, Kim, and I’ll stick right to him as long as he don’t flight with girls. Me whole life is spoiled, I’m not long for this while, gee, I certainly must be in love. I carried his picture right next to me heart, I kissed it so much that it all fell apart. Me bottle bounced me, I can’t add three and three, there’s just one poison I’m thinking of. I jumped in the bathtub and scrubbed myself white, and now I’m convinced that me mind isn’t right. Cause when I take a bath before Saturday night, gee, I certainly must be in love. In My Merry Oldsmobile Young Johnny Steele has an Oldsmobile He loves a dear little girl She is the queen of his gas machine She has his heart in a whirl Now when they go for a spin, you know She tries to learn the auto, so He lets her steer, while he gets her ear And whispers soft and low… Come away with me, Lucille In my merry Oldsmobile Down the road of life we’ll fly Automobubbling, you and I To the church we’ll swiftly steal Then our wedding bells will peal You can go as far as you like with me In my merry Oldsmobile They love to “spark” in the dark old park As they go flying along She says she knows why the motor goes The “sparker” is awfully strong Each day they “spoon” to the engine’s tune Their honeymoon will happen soon He’ll win Lucille with his Oldsmobile And then he’ll fondly croon… Come away with me, Lucille In my merry Oldsmobile Down the road of life we’ll fly Automobubbling, you and I To the church we’ll swiftly steal Then our wedding bells will peal You can go as far as you like with me In my merry Oldsmobile Don’t Bring Lulu Go bring Lulu! Go bring Lulu! Your presence is requested, wrote little Johnny White. But with this invitation, there is a stipulation. When you attend this party, you all be treated right. But there’s a wild and wooly woman you boys can’t invite. You can bring Pearl, she’s a darn nice girl, but don’t bring Lulu. You can bring Rose with a turned up nose, but don’t bring Lulu. Lulu always wants to do what the folks don’t want her to do. When she’s brought herself around, London Bridge is falling down. You can bring cake for a porterhouse steak, but don’t bring Lulu. Lulu gets blue and goes coo-coo like the clock upon the shelf. She’s the kind of smartie, greats up every party. Colorful Lulu, don’t bring Lulu, I’ll bring her myself. Last week we had a party, a real heist on the fair. And then along came Lulu, wild as any Zulu. She started into Charlton and howled the voices there. But when she did the hula-hula, then she got the air. You can bring Flo, her dad’s got dough, but don’t bring Lulu. You can bring Milk, she’s an awful kill, but don’t bring Lulu. Lulu has the reddest hair, auburn ear and tenor there. How can we boys keep our heads full so wild when they see red? You can bring peas and crullers and cheese, but don’t bring Lulu. When she gets door and slams the door, the plates lie off the shelf. She can make a fella wild on Sapperella. Colorful Lulu, don’t bring Lulu, she’ll come here herself. Don’t bring Lulu. Don’t bring Lulu. You can bring ham and crackers and jam, but don’t bring Lulu. Lulu goes wild and when she’s wild she climbs up on the shelf. She can make a passer, be a dancing master. Colorful Lulu, don’t bring Lulu, I’ll bring her myself. I’ll bring her myself.

1:01:02

Ep. 114 May 19, 2026

Victoria Day

This week’s Three Tune Tuesday takes us back to the origins of Victoria Day — not the long weekend, not the fireworks, but the woman herself. We open with an “On This Day” entry: “June Brought the Roses,” recorded by contralto Marcia Freer on May 19, 1924, one hundred years to the day before this episode was released — nothing to do with Queen Victoria, but everything to do with the warmth her holiday signals for Canadians. From there we travel to Montreal in 1902, where the Kilties Band of Canada pressed “The Maple Leaf Forever” onto a maroon disc with a tartan paper label for the Berliner Gramophone Company — one of the rarest and most distinctly Canadian objects the early recording industry produced. We close with the song that was Victoria herself: Ian Colquhoun’s “Soldiers of the Queen,” captured in London around 1900, the sound of an empire that believed without question in its own permanence. A New Zealand newspaper noted in 1901 that the death of Queen Victoria had rather interfered with the popularity of the song. It had. Nothing could have replaced her. Berliner Tartan Label

49:24

Ep. 113 May 12, 2026

Preventative Health (The Purge)

This week on Three Tune Tuesday, we’re thinking about health — specifically, the kind of health check that requires preparation, a gown, and a level of personal exposure that no one particularly looks forward to. We open with a piece of good timing: “By the Saskatchewan,” recorded on this very date in 1911 by baritone Andrea Sarto, taken from the hit Broadway musical comedy The Pink Lady, with music by Ivan Caryll — who, as it happens, was also born on May 12, making this a double centenary of sorts. From there we move to Rosa Henderson’s 1923 Victor recording of “Good Woman’s Blues,” a spare and dignified classic blues performance written by George Butts and Hulbert Esmere, in which a woman of considerable self-possession states her case plainly, accompanied by nothing more than Wendell Talbert’s piano. We close with Dame Clara Butt, whose vast contralto fills Samuel Liddle’s setting of Henry Francis Lyte’s immortal hymn “Abide with Me” — written by Lyte on his deathbed in 1847 and first sung at his funeral. It is, in short, a playlist assembled in the spirit of a colonoscopy: you go in hoping for reassurance, you endure what must be endured, and you emerge, if all goes well, with a clean bill of health and a renewed appreciation for being upright.

55:09

Ep. 112 May 5, 2026

Cinco de Mayo

This week’s Three Tune Tuesday heads south of the border for Cinco de Mayo, tracing the sound of Mexican national pride through three recordings from the acoustic era. We open with a happy accident of the calendar: Arthur Pryor’s Band recorded Franz von Suppe’s “Jolly Robbers Overture” on this very date in 1909, a piece of spirited Viennese theatricality that had been delighting concert audiences since 1867. From there we travel to Mexico City and July 1907, where Victor dispatched a recording team to capture the country’s musical culture on disc — baritone Manuel Romero Malpica delivering Miguel Lerdo de Tejada’s danza mexicana “No lo diré,” followed by the Banda de Policia de Mexico under Velino M. Preza playing his march “Viva Mexico!” Together, these three recordings offer a rare glimpse of how Mexico sounded to itself, and to the world, at the height of the Porfiriato.

52:54

Ep. 111 Apr 28, 2026

April

April has a sound, and this week’s Three Tune Tuesday goes looking for it across three recordings that span a decade of the early phonograph era. We open with Charles Harrison’s 1922 Victor recording of “April Showers,” the optimistic Tin Pan Alley standard that Al Jolson had introduced just months earlier on Broadway in Bombo — a song built on the oldest of consolations, that rain makes the flowers grow. From there we move into stranger, more beguiling territory with Sybil Sanderson Fagan’s 1923 Vocalion recording of “April Sighs,” a whistling solo that trades Harrison’s warm tenor reassurance for something altogether more elusive — an April mood rendered not in words at all, but in pure breath and tone. We close with the oldest recording in the set, the Emerson Military Band’s 1918 take on “April Smiles,” a waltz originally composed by the French Maurice Depret and arranged for band by the Canadian Louis-Philippe Laurendeau — the man who also gave the world its definitive circus clown theme. Showers, sighs, and smiles: three ways April announces itself, caught in shellac before the world had quite decided what recorded music was supposed to be.

45:30

Ep. 110 Apr 21, 2026

420

Three Tune Tuesday marks 4/20 the only way it knows how: by reaching into the pre-1926 catalog and finding three recordings whose names, in combination, do all the work without saying anything at all. We open under the canopy — Renée Chemet’s violin drifting through Francis Thomé’s pastoral miniature “Under the Leaves,” recorded the day after 4/20 in 1924. Then the Victor Military Band crashes in with a one-step medley from Rudolf Friml’s Broadway smash High Jinks, whose plot concerns patients of a Dr. Thorne who take a mysterious Tibetan elixir that causes them to laugh and fall in love — and the show’s best-loved song is the one where they try to describe how it feels. We close with “Some Smoke,” a 1913 dance number by Sigmund Romberg, one year before he’d become Broadway’s most prolific house composer. Plausible deniability maintained throughout. Happy 4/20.

57:44

Ep. 109 Apr 14, 2026

Wax Cylinders

This week on Four Tune Tuesday, we’re going old. Very old. Rather than our usual today-in-history framing, we’re taking a detour into the cylinder era — the format that preceded the 78rpm disc entirely, and the one that gave birth to the commercial recording industry in the first place. We open in 1891 with what is, as best as we can determine, the oldest cylinder in the UCSB Cylinder Audio Archive: a cornet solo by D.B. Dana, accompanied at the piano by bandleader Edward Issler, performing the “Cujus Animam” from Rossini’s Stabat Mater — recorded live, by hand, into a phonograph horn, with no possibility of duplication. Our second cylinder is a vocal piece from the same year, J.W. Myers singing “Bell Buoy” for the North American Phonograph Company — not a record label, but the chaotic network of thirty-three regional companies through which Edison tried, and ultimately failed, to dominate the nascent industry. From there, we turn to the violin — and to one of the more quietly fascinating chapters in recording history. Charles D’Almaine was the first person ever to record with a Stroh violin, an instrument invented in 1899 specifically to solve the problem that the standard violin posed for acoustic recording. We hear him first in 1899, before the Stroh, on a conventional violin in a solo arrangement of the “Miserere” from Verdi’s Il Trovatore — and then in 1904, after, on a joyful fiddle medley that includes, somewhere in the middle, a reel he apparently named after himself. Stroh Violin [(https://ids.si.edu/ids/deliveryService?id=NMAH-92-13660&max=600)](https://ids.si.edu/ids/deliveryService?id=NMAH-92-13660&max=600)

57:36

Ep. 108 Apr 7, 2026

Easter and Passover

Spring arrives with music this week on Three Tune Tuesday, as we mark the convergence of Easter and Passover with three recordings that span the full range of what this season sounded like on early shellac. We open with a detour into pure coincidence — Vessella’s Italian Band recorded the “Blushing Maiden March” on this very date in 1911, a bright and breezy piece of light entertainment from one of Victor’s most beloved concert bands, the resident ensemble of Atlantic City’s famous Steel Pier. From there we turn to the sacred, with tenor Frederic Freemantel’s “Resurrection,” a 12-inch Red Seal recording of Oliver Holden’s great hymn tune “Coronation” — a melody so enduring it is considered the oldest American hymn tune still in continuous use, here given the full solemnity of Victor’s prestige format. We close on the other side of spring’s spiritual calendar, with Cantor Mordechai Hershman’s deeply moving “K’shimcho,” a Passover prayer recorded with Nathaniel Shilkret conducting, in which one of the golden age of chazzanut’s finest voices brings an ancient liturgical text into the modern world of recorded sound.

54:49

Ep. 107 Mar 31, 2026

Inner Peace

This week on Three Tune Tuesday, the theme is Inner Peace — inspired by a vision over the weekend. We open with a Today in History pick: on this very date in 1907, Prince’s Military Band recorded The Dream of the Rarebit Fiend for Columbia Records, a chaotic, lurching musical portrait of the nightmare state that reminds us what peace is not. From there we move to something quieter — the Revillon Trio’s 1915 instrumental recording of Somewhere a Voice Is Calling, a melody written by Arthur F. Tate on holiday in Whitby, England, in which the voice of the title goes unheard and the listener is left simply waiting, still, in the dusk. We close with one of the most hard-won declarations of peace in the entire hymn tradition: It Is Well With My Soul, recorded in 1906 by William F. Hooley and the Handel Mixed Quartet, the text written by Horatio Spafford as his ship crossed the spot in the Atlantic where his four daughters had drowned. Three recordings, three different ways of arriving at the same place — because inner peace, it turns out, is never simply given. It has to be found. Lyrics Somewhere a Voice is Calling Dusk and the shadows falling O’er land and sea; Somewhere a voice is calling Calling for me Dusk and the shadows falling O’er land and sea; Somewhere a voice is calling Calling for me Night and the stars are gleaming Tender and true; Dearest, my heart is dreaming Dreaming of you Night and the stars are gleaming Tender and true; Dearest, my heart is dreaming Dreaming of you It is Well With my Soul When peace, like a river, attendeth my way, When sorrows like sea billows roll; Whatever my lot, Thou hast taught me to say, It is well, it is well with my soul. Refrain: It is well with my soul, It is well, it is well with my soul. Though Satan should buffet, though trials should come, Let this blest assurance control, That Christ hath regarded my helpless estate, And hath shed His own blood for my soul. My sin—oh, the bliss of this glorious thought!— My sin, not in part but the whole, Is nailed to the cross, and I bear it no more, Praise the Lord, praise the Lord, O my soul! For me, be it Christ, be it Christ hence to live: If Jordan above me shall roll, No pang shall be mine, for in death as in life Thou wilt whisper Thy peace to my soul. But, Lord, ’tis for Thee, for Thy coming we wait, The sky, not the grave, is our goal; Oh, trump of the angel! Oh, voice of the Lord! Blessed hope, blessed rest of my soul! And Lord, haste the day when the faith shall be sight, The clouds be rolled back as a scroll; The trump shall resound, and the Lord shall descend, Even so, it is well with my soul.

58:47

Ep. 106 Mar 24, 2026

The Follies of War

March 24, 1918: German forces crossed the Somme during Operation Michael, Ludendorff’s great spring offensive — the war machine’s last confident lunge toward a victory that never came. In 2026, with the Trump administration dismantling alliances built on the bones of two world wars, treating the consequences of war as someone else’s problem, and marching forward with the kind of certainty that history tends to punish, it felt like a good week to reach back to the era when people were still trying to make sense of what industrialized war actually meant — and some of them were brave enough to say so. “Peter Piper” — Arthur Pryor’s Band (Victor, 1905) It sounds like a march — all brass and forward momentum and purpose. But “Peter Piper” is built on a nursery rhyme tongue-twister, a piece of music that moves with great confidence toward absolutely nothing. Arthur Pryor was the second most famous bandleader in America after Sousa, and when his band played, people stood up straight. On the anniversary of the Somme crossing, it seemed like the right way to open: all that certainty, all that momentum, built entirely on nonsense. “Stay Down Here Where You Belong” — Henry Burr (Victor, 1915) Irving Berlin wrote this in 1915, before America entered the war and before he understood which way the wind was blowing. The conceit is simple and devastating: the Devil urges his son to stay in Hell rather than venture up to the surface, because up there they’re making butchers out of brothers, and there’s more hell above ground than below. Henry Burr recorded it with the quiet conviction of a man who meant it. Within two years, America was at war, Berlin had moved on to writing songs for the troops, and this one was quietly shelved. It is the voice that said don’t go — before the drums got loud enough that nobody could hear it anymore. “Oh! It’s a Lovely War” — Courtland & Jeffries (1918) By 1918, four years in, the Somme and Verdun behind them and millions dead, two music hall performers called Courtland & Jeffries were on stage insisting that everything was absolutely fine. Every verse of this song catalogs the miseries of army life — the mud, the tinned jam, the absurdity of military hierarchy — and every verse ends with the chorus cheerfully declaring it all perfectly wonderful. It is one of the only songs of the era that got away with mocking the war while it was still being fought, by the simple trick of never technically admitting that’s what it was doing. The humor is the gap between what is said and what is meant. In 1918, that gap was the width of the Western Front.

1:04:53

Ep. 105 Mar 17, 2026

St. Patrick's Day

St. Patrick’s Day This week, Boneapart and Yulia talk about St. Patrick’s Day and share some songs celebrating the emerald isle. Mother Machree There’s a spot in my heart which no colleen may own there’s a depth in my soul never sounded or known There’s a place in my mem’ry my heart that you fill no other can take it no one ever will CHORUS Oh I love the dear silver that shines in your hair and the brow that’s all furrowed and wrinkled with care I kiss the dear fingers so toil worn for me Oh God bless you and keep you Mother Machree Every sorrow or cure in the dear days gone by was made bright by the light by the smile in your eye like a candle the burns in the window at night you fond love has cheered my and guided me right. The Wearing of the Green O Paddy dear, and did you hear the news that’s going round? The Shamrock is forbid, by laws, to grow on Irish ground No more St. Patrick’s day we’ll keep, his colour last be seen For, there’s a bloody law agin the Wearing of the Green. Oh! I met with Napper Tandy, and he took me by the hand, And he says; How is Poor Auld Ireland, and does she stand? She’s the most distressed Country that ever I have seen For, they are hanging men and women for the Wearing of the Green. And since the colour we must wear, is England’s cruel red, Auld Ireland’s sons will ne’er forget the blood that they have shed. Then take the Shamrock from your hat, and cast it on the sod It will take root, and flourish still, tho’ under foot ’tis trod. When the law can stop the blades of grass from growing as they grow. And when the leaves, in Summer time, their verdure does not show. Then, I will change the colour I wearin’ my cabbeen But, till that day, please God ! I’ll stick to the Wearing of the Green. But if, at last, her colours should be torn from Ireland’s heart Her sons, with shame and sorrow, from the dear old soil will part I’ve heard whispers of a Country that lies far beyond sea, Where rich and poor stand equal, in the light of Freedom’s day. O Erin! must we leave you driven by the tyrant’s hand Must we ask a Mother’s blessing, in a strange but happy land Where the cruel Cross of England’s thraldom never to be seen But where, thank God! we’ll live and die, still Wearing of the Green. Ireland Must be Heaven, for my Mother Came From There I’ve often heard my daddy speak of Ireland’s lakes and dells, The place must be like Heaven, if it’s half like what he tells; There’s roses fair and shamrocks there, and laughing waters flow; I have never seen that Isle of Green, But there’s one thing sure I know. Ireland must be Heaven, for an angel came from there, I never knew a living soul, one half as sweet or fair, For her eyes are like the star light, And the white clouds match her hair, Sure Ireland Must be Heaven, For My Mother Came From There. I’ve pictured in my fondest dreams old Ireland’s vales and rills, I see a stairway to the sky, formed by her verdant hills; Each wave that’s in the ocean blue just loves to hug the shore, So if Ireland isn’t Heaven, then sure, It must be right next door.

54:00

Ep. 104 Mar 10, 2026

The Blues

This week Yulia and Boneapart talk, not sing, The Blues. We discuss some history and share two very fantastic Blues songs that come from different backgrounds. Of course, we also play a song “Released on this Date In History.” Songs Irish Hearts Artist: Fred Van Eps (banjo solo, with orchestra) Composer: Henry Frantzen Arranger: Everett J. Evans Recorded: March 10, 1916, New York Label: Columbia, catalog number A2283 Matrix: 46487, Take 00 Format: 10-inch disc Other title: “March and Two-Step” Flip side: “Pearl of the Harem” (Harry P. Guy / Fred Van Eps), same session Anticipatin’ Blues Southern Negro Quartette Recorded June 30, 1921, New York Columbia A3444, Matrix 79920, Take 4 Flip side: “I’m Wild About Moonshine” (Turner Layton / Henry Creamer) Composer: Billy James / Jean Harmon Format: Male vocal quartet, unaccompanied Lyrics I’ve been waiting ever so long, watching and praying for you, for you. Say if you know that my love is gone. What are you going to do? Don’t keep me worrying you. I’m tired of being alone. You hear me stating, I’m tired of waiting. You’d better worry back home, back home, of God’s laws. Tired of waiting, gonna steal the pain. It’s gonna flow, flow, flow. I’m getting worried, I’m starting to hurry. Hearing of my words, every so low, too low, too low. But what you’re telling me, I always thought that. I’ve been waiting ever so long, watching and praying for you, for you. Say if you know that my love is gone. What are you going to do? Don’t keep me worrying you. I’m tired of waiting, gonna steal the pain. You hear me stating, I’m tired of waiting. I’m tired of waiting, gonna steal the pain. You hear me stating, I’m tired of waiting. I’m tired of waiting, gonna steal the pain. You hear me stating, I’m tired of waiting. And there’s a pain now, flow, flow, flow, flow, flow. Someday you’ll regret what you’ve done. You’ll worry back, you’re my side, my side. But you’ll find another someone, and blame on me as his bride. Don’t keep me stalling around, waiting for what I don’t get. Oh how I’m sighing, say that you’re trying. So they can make me forget, forget. I’ve got no words. I don’t wait, sing those damn tears. The pain is so blue, blue, blue. I’m getting worried, it’s better to hurry, dear. Stop my burning with the blue, blue, blue. Those are what you tell me, always thought sad. And there’s a pain now of fifty percent. The others ain’t done. And there’s a pain now of fifty percent. The others ain’t done. The pain is so blue, blue, blue. I’m getting worried, it’s better to hurry, dear. Stop my burning with the blue, blue, blue. Oh how I’m sighing, say that you’re trying. So they can make me forget, forget. I’m getting worried, it’s better to hurry, dear. Stop my burning with the blue, blue, blue. Lose, lose, lose, lose, lose When someone does me wrong I always face down I’ve got the size of a thumb, no, why oh reason I’ve got the size of a ring and just the fate ain’t Lose, lose, lose, lose, lose Don’t be rich, it ain’t on trick I will join your life and I will kill you quick I’ve got the size of a ring and just the fate ain’t Lose, lose, lose, lose, lose, lose Some loooooose Crazy Blues Recording details: Artist: Mamie Smith & Her Jazz Hounds Recorded: August 10, 1920, OKeh Records, New York Released: November 1920 on OKeh 4169 Matrix/Take: S-7529, take C Flip side: “It’s Right Here for You” Composer: Perry Bradford (originally published as “Harlem Blues,” itself adapted from even earlier material) Lyrics I can’t sleep at night I can’t eat a bite ‘Cause the man I love He don’t treat me right He makes me feel so blue I don’t know what to do Sometime I sit and sigh And then begin to cry ’Cause my best friend Said his last goodbye There’s a change in the ocean Change in the deep blue sea, my baby I’ll tell you folks, there ain’t no change in me My love for that man will always be Now I can read his letters I sure can’t read his mind I thought he’s lovin’ me He’s leavin’ all the time Now I see my poor love was blind Now I got the crazy blues Since my baby went away I ain’t got no time to lose I must find him today You might also like Blue Yodel No. 1 (T for Texas) Jimmie Rodgers Believer Imagine Dragons Gimme a Pigfoot and a Bottle of Beer Bessie Smith Now the doctor’s gonna do all that he can But what you’re gonna need is an undertaker man I ain’t had nothin’ but bad news Now I got the crazy blues Now I can read his letters I sure can’t read his mind I thought he’s lovin’ me He’s leavin’ all the time Now I see my poor love was blind I went to the railroad Hang my head on the track Thought about my daddy I gladly snatched it back Now my babe’s gone And gave me the sack Now I’ve got the crazy blues Since my baby went away I ain’t had no time to lose I must find him today I’m gonna do like a Chinaman Go and get some hop Get myself a gun, and shoot myself a cop I ain’t had nothin’ but bad news Now I’ve got the crazy blues

56:33

Ep. 103 Mar 3, 2026

Fuck Trump

This week on Three Tune Tuesday, Boneapart and Yulia open with a piece of music history: on this day in 1916, Swedish tenor Aage Wang-Holm stepped into a New York recording studio to record a tender song of longing for home, sung in his native language for the millions of Scandinavian immigrants who made up a largely invisible audience for the early phonograph industry. Then the episode turns to its theme – freedom versus authoritarianism – beginning with Arthur Pryor’s Band and their 1904 march commemorating the Boston Tea Party, a moment of defiance against an empire that had decided the colonies existed to serve the crown rather than themselves. The episode closes with Reinald Werrenrath, one of the most recorded voices of his era, singing “Freedom for All Forever” – a WWI rallying cry built around a phrase chosen by the American public in a nationwide wartime slogan contest, and written by a soldier-songwriter then serving in the Canadian Engineers. Recorded in March 1918 with the outcome of the war still uncertain, it was a declaration that some things are worth fighting for. A century later, we’re still having that argument.

57:44

Feb 24, 2026

Egalite

This week on Three Tune Tuesday, Boneapart and Yulia explore the theme of Égalité — equality — through three recordings from the acoustic era. We open with a "This Day in History" spin: the All Star Trio's rollicking fox trot medley "You Ain't Heard Nothing Yet," recorded by Victor Arden, George Hamilton Green, and F. Wheeler Wadsworth in New York City on this very date in 1920. Then we turn to the theme, beginning with the Manhattan Harmony Four's stirring 1923 recording of "Lift Every Voice and Sing" — the Black National Anthem, written by James Weldon Johnson and his brother Rosamond, and pressed on Black Swan Records, the pioneering Harlem-based label founded by Harry Pace as an act of racial pride and cultural self-determination. We close with Emile Van Bosch, a Belgian-born operatic baritone, delivering a thunderous Dutch-language performance of De Internationale — recorded in Berlin in August 1925, just as the tensions that would define the coming decades were beginning to gather. Three songs, three movements, one enduring question: what does it mean to demand a more equal world?

1:05:04

Feb 22, 2026

Six Song Sunday

Coinciding with The Colonial Theatre in Phoenixville discovering that their theatre was actually opened in 1902, not 1903, Yulia and Boneapart visited the theatre and recorded a special, one-off, Three Tune Tuesday - named "Six Song Sunday" - in the hotel room the night before! All songs were recorded in 1902!

52:38

Feb 17, 2026

Fraternite

In this week's episode, Boneapart and Yulia continue their Liberty, Equality, Fraternity series with a look at Fraternité — brotherhood, solidarity, and standing together — themes that feel as urgent today as they did a century ago. We open with a "today in music history" moment: Marcel Journet's rich bass voice bringing the Porter's Song from Flotow's opera Martha to life in a 1905 Victor recording. Then we turn to our theme, starting with a stirring 1922 brass band march simply — and perfectly — titled "Fraternity," performed by the St. Hilda Prize Band, a group of coal miners from South Shields who happened to be among the finest musicians in Britain. We close with "Hold the Fort," recorded in 1914 by the Chautauqua Preachers' Quartette — a gospel hymn born from a Civil War battle cry that found new life as a labor movement anthem. Three songs, three stories, one enduring message: we're stronger together. Pull up a chair, pour yourself something warm, and join us.

49:27

Feb 10, 2026

Liberte

In this week's episode, Boneapart and Yulia both get ready to run through a wall after a listen to an early recording of Patrick Henry's famous (possibily anachronistic) Give me Liberty speech. They also listen to a couple other Liberte inspired runes and get all sorts of riled up.

56:24

Feb 3, 2026

Imbolc

On this Imbolc-themed Three Tune Tuesday, Boneapart and Yulia spin three pre-1926 gems: a cheeky hospital flirtation in Billy Murray's "Good-night, Nurse" (1913), the hopeful robin-call of Charlotte Kirwan's "When the Robins Nest Again" (1913), and Irving Berlin's tender confession "Tell Her in the Springtime" (1924). Amid crackly grooves and seasonal candlelight, they explore rebirth, from personal healing to nature's first whispers

54:11

Jan 27, 2026

Self Care

The world today sucks. So do fascists. It's important to remember that fighting them also requires Self Care. In this episode we try for some levity as a method of self care.

52:30

Jan 19, 2026

Its Electric

1925 was the year that "electric recording", or "orthophonic" records, were designed, greatly enhancing the sound of recorded music. This week Yulia and Boneapart discuss what made electric recording such a game changer and provide examples of just how much of an improvement over previous "acoustic" recording it made.

1:02:10

Jan 13, 2026

Looking Forward

This week on Three Tune Tuesday, we’re looking forward—not with naïve optimism, but with determination. Through a 1914 recording of Danse macabre, the unsettling call of Your King and Country Want You, and the resolute stance of We’ll Never Let the Old Flag Fall, we explore how resolve survives the rise of authoritarianism—and how easily it can be misused. These songs come from a moment when the world stood on the edge of catastrophe, yet they still speak to endurance, awareness, and the refusal to surrender one’s values. This isn’t about cheering for power or glory; it’s about recognizing the voices that try to claim us, remembering that no regime lasts forever, and choosing—quietly, stubbornly—to keep looking ahead.

1:00:45

Jan 6, 2026

Peace

Peace opens the 2026 season of Three Tune Tuesday by tracing how the idea of peace sounds when it’s assumed, hoped for, and finally begged for. We begin with a carefree 1913 duet recorded on this very day in history—light, romantic, and blissfully unaware of the catastrophe to come—before moving into two post–World War I songs that reflect a world trying to steady itself after profound loss. From ringing bells to a grieving father’s plea to stop singing about war altogether, this episode listens closely to how music carries exhaustion, hope, and quiet resolve across a decade forever changed.