Conflicting reports have him born either April 5 or 10, 1911, but either way, I'm proud to say he's a fellow Aries. Hard to imagine a fiery astrological temperament emanating from the very Soul of Exotica—music made to aurally massage the mind, even if it's already been softened up a bit by a Mai Tai or two. Along with Les Baxter, his pioneering musical mentor, and Arthur Lyman, his star protégé, Martin Denny virtually invented this uniquely American jazz-mix of Polynesian, Asian, African and Latin influences.
Throughout his half century in show biz, his band employed bongos, drums, vibes, bass, chimes, grand piano, boobams, conch shells, Japanese koto, and a variety of other ethnic sonic tools—including natural "bird calls"—to create a singularly "exotic" listening experience. This tropical-pop trend swept a booming postwar suburban America longing for the forbidden adventures and erotic mystique of foreign ports of call.
The ex-GI's at the barbecue grills, sporting flashy aloha shirts and sipping fruity cocktails with umbrellas, dreamily recalled lush regions populated with scantily clad hula dancers, images they could now fully appreciate from their safe, hard won home turf. Denny supplied the soundtrack to those romantic reveries, and still does, well into this war-torn, terror-stricken, stressed-out 21st Century, sure to extend far beyond his recent passing at age 93.
The genre he helped create—later dubbed "Exotica" (after his first album) by pop archeologists, or "Tiki Music" by modern Lounge musicologists and nostalgia buffs—is not indigenously Hawaiian. In fact, when my wife and I were on our honeymoon on the isles of Kauai and Oahu, I couldn't find a single native who had even heard of Martin Denny. Only a couple of jewelry salespeople from Ohio knew whom I was talking about.
It was very frustrating, but also enlightening—Denny's music was a stateside and international phenomenon, but in the birthplace of "Tiki" his influence does not seem as deeply intrinsic to the culture as we mainlanders would care to imagine. This is because Denny's music was a Sailor's Fantasy, calling to the wandering spirit in landlocked dreamers everywhere. It was meant more for the poor saps stuck in Midwest snowdrifts than for the lucky swingers born under the Aloha Moon—but I'm sure they dig it, too.
The mixer and shaker of the modern "Tiki Movement" Otto Von Stroheim—publisher of the seminal Exotica periodical Tiki News (http://www.tikinews.com) and internationally popular Lounge DJ—had this to say: "I count Martin Denny as one of my few heroes in this world littered with role models fallen from grace. His music is always uplifting. My record cases always contain a few Martin Denny records—his tunes are universally loved and he will be universally missed."
Another famous fan, V. Vale—progressive punk rocker and founder of the world renowned outré treasure trove RE/Search Publications ( http://www.researchpubs.com)—was one of the few entrepreneur hipsters hep to exotica and other long lost emblems of Old School Cool before Retro became just another marketing trend. He interviewed Denny extensively for his groundbreaking Incredibly Strange Music books, and revealed to me this touching fact: "Up till near the end I think Martin Denny was playing (for free) anonymously in hospices for people living their last hours—most of them probably not aware of the lasting greatness of the man who was, in real time, playing the ivories just for them. Kind of reminds me of Andy Warhol working in those NYC soup kitchens, unrecognized...."
For the Incredibly Strange Music books, Vale also interviewed record collector Lynn Peril who—along with her husband, musician and fellow LP fiend Johnny Bartlett—met the man himself in 1995 (see photo). Lynn recalled to me: "I was struck by what an elegant gentleman he was and the loving relationship he had with his wife (June). He was very nice, and told us about playing at Bimbo's when it was the Bal Tabarin in 1937."
His lengthy career biography has been extensively documented elsewhere, but I'll take a moment to bring you fledgling Tikiheads up to speed. He was born in New York City (again, like your humble author!), where at age 10 he began his formal training in classical music with piano teachers Lester Spitz and Isadore Gorn.
A self-described "child prodigy," he then spent four youthful years traveling around South American on tour with the Don Dean Orchestra, absorbing the local Latin rhythms that would have a great impact on his mature work as an artist. His later use of Latin (and African) percussion was intentionally combined with the softer sounds of Hawaiian music to give it a livelier beat.
Denny was a WWII veteran, spending 42 months on active duty. After being discharged in December 1945, he took up study at the LA Conservatory of Music. After several years immersed in the technical aspects of composition, he decided to settle in Hawaii—a portentous move, as it turned out.
In 1954, Denny got a regular gig at Don the Beachcomber's in Waikiki, and the following year formed his own band, whose members included vibist Arthur Lyman, bassist John Kramer and percussionist Augie Colon. The following year, the popular combo gigged at Henry J. Kaiser's Shell Bar, a popular spot located inside Honolulu's hottest hotel resort, The Hawaiian Village (often seen in a popular TV show of the era, Hawaiian Eye).
The group performed in an open-air arena next to a pond populated by croaking bullfrogs. Inspired by their natural collaborators, Denny and company began mimicking other tropical nature sounds, like bird calls, gradually incorporating them into their experimental blend of tropical sounds, which now included instruments and arrangements inspired by the Oriental Far East and remote South Pacific as well as local traditional Hawaiian music. This unique and innovative new stew of atmospheric, cosmopolitan sounds caught the ears of executives from Liberty Records, and Denny found himself with a lucrative deal leading to the release of the first of many LPs, Exotica, in 1956.
Denny's biggest commercial success and eventual signature tune was his very first single, the classic instrumental "Quiet Village" taken from his debut album. The piece was originally composed and recorded by Les Baxter several years prior to Denny's hit recording in 1957. Now replete with the once-improvised "bird calls" in the background, the music set a mystical, melodic Mai Tai mood his fans have been re-visiting, but not re-inventing, ever since. It was so popular Denny even appeared on the rock 'n' roll-riddled American Bandstand.
He later attributed his success to the new stereo technology being introduced into space age bachelor pads and middle class living rooms alike, rather than anything having to do with faddish Hawaiiana. Ironically, Denny never associated his music with "tiki culture" per se, but still appreciated any connections that would perpetuate interest in his work.
After this initial splash, Denny continued to record and perform in Hawaii, and then successfully tour the mainland. He entertained enthusiastic crowds from the balmy shores of Waikiki to the frigid outposts of Alaska, even as his record sales eventually slumped (especially after the British Invasion of 1964) and his audiences dwindled in the face of rapidly changing tastes. During this period he experimented with many different styles, influences and instrumentation, often giving popular songs of the day his trademark tropical touch, leaving a wealth of eclectic recordings in his wake.
In the late 60s he was one of the first popular musicians to incorporate the Moog, the original "synthesizer," into his standard body of work, even re-recording his hit "Quiet Village" using this then-cutting edge instrument. Ultimately, Denny's breezy brand of "Easy Listening" was washed away by the corporate rock and disco sounds of the 70s, in tragic tandem with the demolition of so many precious neighborhood tiki bars.
He lived long enough, though, to witness the truly epic rediscovery of his music as part of the sweeping Lounge revival of the 1990s, and he's never been off the musical map since, despite at least one announced retirement as early as 1985. His fans wouldn't let him quit, though, and in 1990 he was honored with the Hawaiian Association of Music's Hoku Award for Lifetime Achievement.
It can't be denied that Denny owes a great deal of his ongoing popularity to the brilliantly evocative and often stunningly sexual album covers of his Liberty LPs, featuring brunette bombshell model Sandy Warner. It was her voluptuous visage staring alluringly from the depths of dusty record bins that largely accounted for the resurgence of interest in the actual music these provocative album covers contained.
In any case, they were a magical match in hula-hipster heaven. The titles of his many Liberty LPs released throughout the late 50s and early 60s—Exotica 1, 2 and 3, Forbidden Island, The Enchanted Sea, Primitiva, Afro-Desia, etc.—are just as suggestive of the colorful content as the curvaceous cover girl. It was pure marketing genius. But all that doesn't entirely explain the enduring popularity of this Lounge legend.
Martin Denny's music can alternately soothe, inspire, seduce and excite the listener with its pure, percussive pleasures. It may prove one day to be the most effective cure for migraines, if not the answer to world peace. But in the meantime, we can all be grateful for the sonic therapy the exotic and eternal sounds of Martin Denny offer—whatever ails you.
