Veteran big band leader Buddy Clarke's career stretches back to the '30s. His recording debut took place in the early '40s, the hectic days prior to the implementation of the AFM ban on new recordings. The sides he cut in this period are hard to find, and what does exist in print becomes mired in confusion surrounding this artist's name. He is often mixed up with two other performers named Buddy Clark, who in turn are often mixed up with each other, a fate they no doubt deserve for the audacity of both appearing on the same Doris Day sessions, one singing and the other playing bass. The crooning Buddy Clark -- note, no "e" at the end, and then feel proud for having noticed something that dozens of discographers and hundreds of electronic databases have not -- is in particular something of a black shadow, since he began performing in the same era as Clarke and does similar types of big band material. The bassist Clark plays a much wider range of material, but when it comes time to credit him, the percentage of Clarke entries that ought to be Clark suggest a tube of glue spilled in the typesetter's kit. Another thing the two big band performers have in common is that neither man's name is really either Clark or Clarke. Buddy Clark's real name was Buddy Goldberg, while Clarke's was Buddy Kreisberg. The latter man had already been a bandleader at East Coast hotels such as the Montreal Mount Royal for a lengthy stretch when he was signed by producer Joe Davis in the summer of 1942. The resulting recording sessions, part of a packed schedule of activity prior to the aforementioned ban kicking in, were actually smushed in between the more elaborate recording activities of vocalist Savannah Churchill, but yielded some interesting material nonetheless. At the same time, there was enough subterfuge involved to suggest that at least some of the participants didn't want to be that involved. One credited songwriter, Leslie Beacon, does not exist. This was a pseudonym for Davis, who had started the Beacon label. One of the featured vocalists, Jim Parsons, also did not exist. This was actually the seasoned vocalist Irving Kaufman, laying low, and maybe because he was asked to sing a number entitled "Why Is My Little Red Head Blue?" Recording logs from the period indicate Clarke may have gotten 50 bucks for his efforts. Hopefully his pay increased in his senior years, when the music of the '30s and '40s became something audiences were interested in reviving. Based out of Hampton, VA, Clarke is still going strong with an outfit called Buddy Clarke & His Big Swing Band, often featuring vocalist Marie Elena. ~ Eugene Chadbourne