Mr. Fred Rogers, Unknown Songwriter

There’s been lots of press coverage recently about one Fred Rogers, aka Mister Rogers, a name that makes people of a certain age (like, say, mine) immediately think about his classic American TV program Mister Rogers’ Neighborhood. This coverage is prompted primarily by the release this month of A Beautiful Day in the Neighborhood, which stars Tom Hanks as Mister Rogers and focuses on Rogers’ friendship with a journalist assigned to write a profile on him. But it’s also true that interest in Rogers has only grown in the years since his death in 2003 and I don’t see it fading much even after the movie leaves theatres.

Even though Rogers is best known for his program for kids, much of the interest is driven by adults, and some of the most affecting material doesn’t necessarily lean on his program to make its emotional or psychological point. For example, Taffy Brodesser-Akner wrote a long, detailed profile of Hanks titled “This Tom Hanks Story Will Help You Feel Less Bad,” a headline that mimicked Rogers in its directness and truthfulness. (It did indeed!) In drawing parallels between Hanks and Rogers as adults and decent people, it doesn’t focus on Rogers’ interaction with kids.

For a look at Rogers’ life that focuses more on kids, give Carvell Wallace’s podcast Finding Fred a listen. It is a very affecting look at Rogers’ career and talks at a pleasingly broad set of people about Rogers’ impact on them, not only close co-workers and associates, but also kids, but those Rogers met, but also those Rogers only affected through the TV screen. Wallace is explicitly trying to figure out how Rogers’ lessons might be relevant today, not only to kids but to adults. (Really, go listen, it’s excellent.)

But I realized in listening to Finding Fred that I hadn’t fully appreciated how important music was to Rogers’ life. Lots of people may know he was a Presbyterian minister, but he wasn’t ordained until he was in his mid-thirties. He graduated with his Bachelor’s degree from Rollins College in Florida more than a decade before. His major? Music composition. (For a fuller exploration of Fred Rogers’ life as an artist, I highly recommend Jeanne Marie Laskas’ long New York Times Magazine article titled “The Mister Rogers No One Saw.”

Compared to Sesame Street, which started in 1969, just a year after Mister Rogers’ Neighborhood, I don’t think Rogers’ music has had nearly the cultural impact of that from Sesame Street. There are probably a variety of reasons for that, including the broader musical palette of Street and the use in later years of modern pop and rock hits as the basis for kid-friendly and educational parodies. Instead, what Rogers offered on his program were songs with simple language, sung directly to children.

They weren’t necessarily simple musically, and Johnny Costa’s jazz piano and his trio provided an appropriately cool and calming underlay to Rogers’ singing. But they probably didn’t capture the public imagination in total the way the Street oeuvre did.

All of which is to say that Fred Rogers is a comparatively underused songwriter from my perspective. Are there tribute albums to Rogers using his music? Sure. There’s 2005’s Songs from the Neighborhood, featuring artists like Amy Grant, Donna Summer, and Ricky Scaggs. Just last month, another tribute album, Thank You, Mister Rogers, features similar artists such as Sandi Patty, Vanessa Williams, and Lee Greenwood. (Hats off to Jon Secada, who appears on both albums.) And there are a couple more jazz-inflected albums from individual artists. But Sesame Street or Schoolhouse Rock seem to have had a much bigger footprint in terms of having their songs covered by other artists.

And kids’ musicians? If there’s a cover of a Mister Rogers song on a kindie album somewhere, I’ve missed or it’s escaped my memory. The closest I could find was Lori Henriques’ “Free Ride Everyday” — not a Fred Rogers song, just one inspired by the man:

While of course the title of this post is tongue-in-cheek, it’s not totally tongue-in-cheek. Rogers’ lyrical directness is probably somewhat out of style (it’s not a lyrical style I have always preferred over the years), the emotional empathy of the songs would be a powerful message. (And I am always interested in more songs about emotions.)

Kindie artists, you know what to do.

Interview: Amy Lee

I will admit that Amy Lee was not high on my list of artists I expected to release a kids' album, but after doing this for fifteen years, I probably shouldn't have been, given the long list of artists who have dipped their toes into the kindie pool.

Of course, the idea that Amazon Music would be a thing, much less the entity releasing Dream Too Much, Lee's entry into the kids music world, would have been fanciful fifteen years ago as well.

So let us accept that the co-founder and lead singer of Evanescence has brought her powerful voice to bear on songs about bees, ducks, donkey, chickens, and more. The album was inspired in part by the birth of her son Jack, whose toddler brain came up with lines like "monkey in the band" and "muffins are sleeping" that found their way into the title track. Dream Too Much the album is available to Amazon Prime members for streaming and the rest of the world to purchase on September 30, but you can read a few thoughts from Lee below on growing up, song inspirations, and his son's favorite instrument.

Zooglobble: What are your first musical memories of growing up?

Amy Lee: You know, one of the things that had a real impact on me as a little girl was Fraggle Rock. I used to watch it before school when I was 6 or 7. I have realized, seeing it again as an adult, how awesome and musical it was. There was an original song in just about every episode, and there was so much depth and creativity in it. Jim Henson is one of my all time heroes. Even as a kid, what's always attracted me to music most is when it digs into your soul and makes you feel. My first favorite songs were by Stevie Wonder, Michael Jackson, The Beatles, The Temptations, Whitney Houston, Jeff Healey....

How did you go about choosing the songs for Dream Too Much?

Well all of the originals were totally inspired by my 2 year old son, Jack. I was writing those songs before I knew I wanted to make an album just naturally, to connect with him. Then it became this fun, elaborate project, and my mission was always making music I thought he would love. Most of the songs we chose to cover relate to my childhood memories and my family. "Rubber Duckie" and "Goodnight My Love" are both songs my dad sung and played to all of us kids when we were young, many times. I wanted to get a good recording of my dad doing those for us all to have forever, that was the original reason that my father and I got together to record this year.

What your musical hopes and dreams for your son?

I just want him to follow his heart and do what makes him really happy, whether that's music or not. Of course I would LOVE for him to grow into a musician and take an interest in that. Music is a huge part of my life so it would be really amazing to share that interest. He already seems to have rhythm, if that's even possible. Maybe its just a toddler thing but he absolutely loves drums and percussion. Hitting stuff and making different sounds. I love it!

Photo credit: Drew Reynolds

Itty-Bitty Review: I Believe in Little Things - Diana Panton

I'm surprised there aren't more albums like Diana Panton's I Believe in Little Things. Given that jazz often takes classic songs and standards as the basis for creating something entirely new, why haven't jazz musicians devoted more attention to classic kids' songs?

On her new album, the Canadian jazz singer Panton doesn't reach all the way back to "Twinkle Twinkle Little Star" and "Mary Had a Little Lamb," but instead uses classic twentieth century songs written for kids' entertainment as her starting point. So she turns to Sesame Street songwriter Joe Raposo, Kenneth Ascher and Paul Williams' songs from The Muppet Movie, and some Disney, among others. Panton's crystal-clear voice is a delight to listen to, with her backing musicians (primarily Reg Schwager on guitar and Don Thompson on bass, piano, and vibraphone) providing a subtle background from which her voice shines without being brassy, which would serve these songs poorly. As lovely as the renditions are, the musicians explore the songs to a point that some listeners with short attention spans may drift off ("When You Wish Upon a Star" clocks in at nearly six minutes). As a result, I'll peg the 55-minute album's target age range as ages 5 and up.

I hesitate to call this "kindie" or "kids music" -- remove the delightful album art by Jacqui Lee and replace it with abstract shapes or stylish pictures of Panton and her band, and it's a tossup as to whether it'd be filed in "children's music" or "jazz." Having said that, the answer to that question is probably a tossup under the current album art as well and probably irrelevant -- it's an album kids and adults are both likely to enjoy settling down with. Recommended.

Note: I received a copy of the album for possible review.

Mixtapes For My Father

I did not fall into reviewing music for kids because of any deep childhood immersion into the genre. When I was young, my own musical memories are that of Mantovani, Herb Alpert, and other bandleaders you could hear on "Easy Listening" radio stations.

Not only did my parents predate the Baby Boom generation, neither of them came to the United States until adulthood, and so American (and British) rock and roll, rhythm and blues, jazz weren't part of their musical DNA. "Light music" wasn't performed and recorded with kids in mind, but as many of the songs lacked vocals and certainly were not harsh in any way, they were perfectly safe for listening with kids, and so I remember tooling around Northern California on weekend drives with my parents, listening to one perfectly orchestrated, slightly swinging tune after another. All those classic kids' albums from the '60s and '70s -- your Peter, Paul, and Mommy, your The Point!, anything from Pete Seeger or Ella Jenkins -- I never heard them until years after I became a parent, or thirty, forty, or even fifty years after they were released.

And so while music was never hidden our house -- and, indeed, I took all sorts of lessons, from piano to violin to organ -- it was never anything that my parents looked to specifically share with me. And although I have fond memories of listening to that "light music," I don't revisit it today and doubt I would listen to it for any reason other than nostalgia.

Here seems an appropriate time to mention two new attempts -- from completely different parts of the musical spectrum -- to craft a listening experience to be shared by parent and child. Neither of these attempts includes anything from Mantovani, though one is slightly Mantovani-adjacent, despite its relative newness.

This Record Belongs To... record and record player

Let's start, then, with that slightly retro attempt from Light In The Attic Records. It's called This Record Belongs To ________, and it's received press attention well beyond any release the kids music world typically receives. I suspect that much of the attention has to do with the format of the release -- Light In The Attic issued the record on vinyl and partnered with Jack White's Third Man Records to package the album with a miniature record player. As high-concept ideas go, This Record Belongs To, is a pretty good one -- deliberately push back against the digital tide that's swept the musical world, even the kids' bay I thought would be sheltered for longer than it has been.

I can't comment on the record player or the vinyl record -- hey, what can I say, while I love CDs, I've never had much interest in collecting vinyl. But the album itself (also available on mp3 if necessary) is essentially a mixtape of classic kid-friendly tracks from the 1960s and 1970s -- Carole King's "One Was Johnny," a couple Harry Nilsson tracks including "Me and My Arrow," the Pointer Sisters' "Pinball Number Count" permanently imprinted upon the brain of countless American youth who've seen more than a handful of Sesame Street episodes. And there are a number of tracks that weren't created with kids in mind -- Vashti Bunyan's "Diamond Day" and Donovan's "The Mandolin Man and His Secret." As mixtapes go, this one is excellent.

Now, to the credit of the person who created it, DJ Zach Cowie, hasn't tried to suggest anything like that he's trying to bring "real" music to kids. (Would that some of the coverage of the album had been as modest in suggesting how much better this selection is.) Which is a good thing, because leaving aside the issue of the general quality of kids music these days (memo: it's good, better than it's ever been), the idea of mixing "kids music" with kid-friendly music for all has been used for years by DJs like those at Greasy Kid Stuff and Spare the Rock, Spoil the Child, to name a couple. All I'm suggesting is that, as good as this particular set of tracks is -- it's good, really it is -- it's by no means unique, and it's very much possible to create a similar album with tracks that were recorded in the past quarter-century.

Approaching kids music from the other end of the spectrum is Smiles Ahead, the first release from Kansas City-based Mighty Mo Productions, a label whose specific goal is to raise the visibility of the current crop of musicians making music for kids and families. This album is a collection of "happy" songs (their next collection, scheduled for release on Valentine's Day, will have more of a love theme), a theme that is pretty flexible and, in a genre that is as generally positive as kids' music, open to a wide variety of tracks. Particular standouts include Brady Rymer and the Little Band That Could's "Jump Up," The Pop Ups' soaring "Box of Crayons," and one of the new tracks, the Verve Pipe's "Get Happy!."

It is not necessarily a mixtape, and unlike the This Record Belongs To _______ and the radio shows I mention above, there's no attempt to mix current "non-kids" music (or older music of any sort). In a genre that, despite recent attempts, by artists to stitch together a concept of "kids music" as a national thing, is still fairly atomized, Mighty Mo is staking its business model in part on the idea that if a family on the West Coast likes Caspar Babypants (aka Chris Ballew), then they might also like Minnesota's Okee Dokee Brothers. They're hoping that listening to music in the minivan will lead to jamming to music together in concert. They're also wanting to make their business dependent on "kids music that parents will like too." That is definitely not their tagline, but it's a tagline I've heard literally hundreds of times in my 15 or so years of covering this genre. The fact that the tagline (or its variants) still gets thrown around is an indication that the genre's got a long ways to go.

I don't know whether Mighty Mo's business model will work any better than Light In The Attic's will (though I'm guessing Light In The Attic won't necessarily be looking to develop another vinyl mixtape at quite the same pace that Mighty Mo will be releasing albums). I obviously have some built-in affinity for Mighty Mo because they're working with artists of today while Light In The Attic's collection features, for the most part, artists it's literally impossible to see perform because they passed away many years ago.

And if there's a more fundamental difference between the two albums it really hinges on the progress of time and the impermanent nature of life. This Record Belongs To _______ is based on the view of listening at home (preferably with a physical object) as the primary source to developing a musical background, while Smiles Ahead views the album merely as the gateway to the concert experience, where lasting musical memories will be made. Neither is necessarily correct, nor are they mutually exclusive -- but which one you gravitate to says quite a bit about how you want your kids to approach music.

There is a third way as well.

If there was any musical legacy my parents left me, it probably had its origins in 1984, the year we moved to Texas. That was the summer I taped a penny to an ad ripped out of who knows where, and I joined the Columbia House Record Club for the first time. Their legacy was letting their middle schooler agree to a contractual obligation and letting me choose 12 cassettes of my very own. I can't remember the whole dozen -- there was a Bruce Springsteen album (Born in the USA), something from Slade which featured their hit "Run Runaway," and beyond that, I have no specific memory.

But I'm pretty sure that I spent much of that summer in an apartment, listening to those tapes every day, reading those mailings and scanning the hundreds of album names available to me. That was probably the summer I became an honest-to-goodness music fan, all because my parents let me do my own thing.

I know that parents want to provide a broad set of experiences for their kids, and giving them musical experiences both recorded and live are important as part of that, particularly if you can give them experiences viewed as high quality. But eventually you have to let go, and regardless of whether you played Harry Nilsson, Caspar Babypants, or even Mantovani for your kids, they'll find their own set of musical heroes. It's not so much the stops along the way as it is the journey itself.

Note: I received copies of both albums for possible review.

Monday Morning Smile: "Furry Happy Monsters" (Sesame Street)

I know, I've posted before about R.E.M. performing a reworked version of "Shiny Happy People" on Sesame Street. I don't care -- this is such a joyful and funny piece, nearly perfect in every detail, that I still think about semi-regularly.

R.E.M. - "Shiny Happy People (Furry Happy Monsters)" (from Sesame Street) [YouTube]