Welcome to Three Tune Tuesday
A Journey into the Soundtrack of the Past
Why Three Tune Tuesday?
Because it’s more than nostalgia—it’s a time machine. By listening closely to these century-old voices, we rediscover the roots of today’s music and the stories of the people who sang them. Each crackle and hiss carries history: resilience in hard times, laughter in the face of change, and artistry that still resonates.
Where to Listen
- Right here at Blind Skeleton, the podcast home of Three Tune Tuesday.
- On Apple Podcasts.
- Or wherever you enjoy your weekly dose of vintage sound
Whether you’re a history buff, a music lover, or simply curious, Three Tune Tuesday offers an inspiring window into the past. Tune in each week to experience the melodies and stories that laid the groundwork for the music we know and love today.
Browse All Episodes
Welcome to “Three Tune Tuesday,” where vintage sound meets timeless music in a weekly exploration of acoustically recorded gems. Each episode, join us on a unique auditory journey through different genres and eras, as we feature three carefully selected tracks that showcase the rich tapestry of music history. Whether you’re a seasoned audiophile or new to the world of vintage entertainment, there’s something here for everyone.
Dive into the heart of music with your host, a passionate collector who brings these tracks to life on period-appropriate phonographs, offering not just songs but an authentic listening experience. From jazz and blues to folk and beyond, our “theme of the week” format keeps every episode fresh and exciting, blending informative insights with a casual, engaging style.
“Three Tune Tuesday” is for music lovers and vintage enthusiasts alike, providing a rare glimpse into the past through the lens of a private collection that stands as a testament to the enduring power of music. Tune in weekly to rediscover the sounds that shaped generations, played as they were meant to be heard, on the machines that first brought them to the world’s ears.
This week on Three Tune Tuesday, we’re spending an episode with memory itself — twenty-five years on from September 11th, right at the point where a shared national memory starts becoming history for the people who never lived through it, even as it stays close and present for everyone who did — and we let three of the earliest recorded sound era’s own records do the talking: “Ben Bolt,” a mid-19th-century parlor ballad that’s really just a list of everyone the narrator has outlived, still popular enough in 1908 for Victor to cut a brand-new version sixty years after it was written; “Long, Long Ago,” a song so deliberately vague — no names, no place, no year — that it became one of the most popular songs in America a decade after it was written and kept getting recycled by every generation after (it eventually became Glenn Miller’s “Don’t Sit Under the Apple Tree” in 1942); and, closing somewhere unexpected, Paul Lincke’s “Birthday Serenade,” a lighthearted German instrumental with nothing to do with loss at all, picked on purpose because this episode happens to be recorded on my own daughter’s birthday — a reminder that in the middle of an episode about grief and history, new memories are still being made, today, right now.
Lyrics
Ben Bolt
Oh don’t you remember sweet Alice, Ben Bolt
Sweet Alice whose hair was so brown
Who wept with delight when you gave her a smile
And trembled with fear at your frown.
In the old church yard in the valley, Ben Bolt
In a corner obscure and alone
They have fitted a slab of granite so gray
And sweet Alice lies under the stone
They have fitted a slab of granite so gray
And sweet Alice lies under the stone
Oh don’t you remember the wood, Ben Bolt
Near the green sunny slope of the hill
Where oft we have sung beneath its wide spreading shade
And kept time to the click of the mill?
The mill has fone to decay, Ben Bolt
And a quiet now reigns all around
See, the old rustic porch, with its roses so sweet
Lies scattered and fallen to the ground
See, the old rustic porch, with its roses so sweet
Lies scattered and fallen to the ground
And don’t you remember the school, Ben Bolt
And the master so kind and so true,
And the little nook by the clear running brook,
Where we gathered the flowers as they grew?
On the masters grave grows the grass, Ben Bolt,
And the running little brook is now dry,
And of all the friends who were schoolmates then,
There remain, Ben but you and I,
And of all the friends who were schoolmates then,
There remain, Ben but you and I
Long Long Ago
Tell me the tales that to me were so dear,
Long, long ago, long, long ago:
Sing me the songs I delighted to hear,
Long, long ago long ago:
Now you are gone my grief is remov’d,
Let me forget that so long you have rov’d,
Let me believe that you love as you lov’d,
Long, long ago, long ago:
Do you remember the path where we met,
Long long ago, long long ago.
Ah yes you told me you ne’er would forget,
Long long ago, long ago.
Then to all others my smile you prefer’d,
Love when you spoke gave a charm to each word,
Still my heart treasures the praises I heard,
Long long ago, long ago.
Thought by your kindness my fond hopes were rais’d,
Long long ago, long long ago,
You by more eloquent lips have been prais’d,
Long long ago, long ago,
But by long absence your truth has been tried,
Still to your accents I listen with pride,
Blest as I was when I sat by your side,
Long long ago, long ago.
