“Take It, Satch!”: 70th Anniversary Celebration of “Mack the Knife”

70 years ago today, Louis Armstrong stepped into Columbia Records’s 30th Street studio, acting upon an idea by producer George Avakian. It was the only free time he had before embarking on a three-month tour of Europe two days later. The stress of the session was worth it, as it resulted in the biggest hit of Armstrong’s career up to that point: “Mack the Knife.”

In 2021, I co-produced The Complete Louis Armstrong Columbia & RCA Victor Studio Sessions 1946-66 for Mosaic Records, alongside Scott Wenzel, David Ostwald, and Rich Noorigian. One of the most exciting days in the studio occurred at Battery Studios in September 2019 when transfer engineer Matt Cavaluzzo popped on a reel-to-reel tape sent over by Sony and all of a sudden, we heard alternate takes of “Mack the Knife” we never knew existed. I pulled out my iPhone to document some of the sounds and we eventually released a good chunk of the session on the 7-CD set. Alas, that set is streaming and none of the previously unissued material has made it to the streaming platforms. But given the significance of this anniversary, I’d like to share everything I have, the iPhone videos, photos from the Armstrong Archives, a major gift from David Ostwald, audio from the Mosaic set, and more, all set to the tune of my GRAMMY-winning album notes for the set.

You’ll have to forgive the in media res nature of this excerpt, which opens by calling attention to the other centerpieces of the session, Louis Armstrong Plays W. C. Handy and Satch Plays Fats (I was able to publish my notes on the latter album earlier this year right here on this site). I might break in here and there with 2025 updates to set up the media, but for now, enjoy my look back at the events of September 28, 1955!

Avakian’s first two projects — the landmark albums Louis Armstrong Plays W.C. Handy and Satch Plays Fats — will be dealt with later in these notes, but he followed those with a knockout of an idea for a single: “Mack the Knife.” How he arrived at having Armstrong do Kurt Weill and Bertolt Brecht’s “Die Moritat von Mackie Messer” from the 1928 musical drama, Die Dreigroschenoper, is a story in itself.

In 1933, an English version of Die Dreigroschenoper opened in America as The Threepenny Opera, but it closed in 10 days. Flash forward to 1954: The Threepenny Opera embarked on a popular off-Broadway run with fresh lyrics translated into English by Marc Blitzstein. The production featured Weill’s widow, Lotte Lenya, who appeared as Polly Peachum in the original German production of Die Dreigroschenoper in the 1920s and had been singing “Die Moritat von Mackie Messer” in German for years. Now she put her own spin on the Blitzstein lyrics and would end up winning a Tony for her performance, a rarity for an off-Broadway production.

The success of “The Threepenny Opera” led to a revival of interest in Lenya and the music of Weill. Between July 5–7, 1955, Lenya recorded an entire album of Weill compositions in Hamburg for release by Philips as Lotte Lenya Singt Kurt Weill. Philips was the European subsidiary of Columbia Records so it made sense that Columbia would also release the album in the United States, where Avakian was the head of Columbia’s Pop Album department.

In preparation for the November release of the album, Avakian latched onto the ballad of “Mack the Knife.” The October 29, 1955 issue of Billboard shed more light on how exactly he was led to this material. “It all began last winter when Anahid Ajemian, the classical violinist, gave the first American performance of the late Weill’s Violin Concerto, which she subsequently recorded for M-G-M. Miss Ajemian’s husband, George Avakian, became interested in Weill’s music as a result and was particularly taken with the Three Penny Opera, which, in an English adaptation by Marc Blitzstein, has been holding forth at a local off-Broadway theater and which also had been recorded by M-G-M.”

Thus, Avakian had the melody in his head and was determined to get the right artist to tackle it for Columbia. But, according to Avakian, everybody he showed it to — including Erroll Garner, Dave Brubeck, Gerry Mulligan and John Lewis — turned him down, saying in effect, “George, what can I do with eight bars over and over, from a German opera yet? And how about those lyrics, man?”

In late August, Avakian visited the West Coast, where he offered the tune to Dixieland trombonist Turk Murphy. Murphy said he’d do it and would write an arrangement for free, but had a suggestion, cheekily taking Avakian to the Macumba nightclub in San Francisco to show him the name on the marquee: Louis Armstrong. (The All Stars played there for six nights beginning August 24.)

“Brilliant me!” Avakian remembered. “I had never thought of Louis Armstrong.” Murphy and Avakian recorded a quick run-through and played it for Armstrong at the Macumba. “And Louie’s reaction was marvelous,” Avakian said. “He broke into a big smile as he listened to the lyrics and he said, ‘Hey, I’ll record that. I knew cats like that in New Orleans. They’d stick a knife in you as fast as say hello.’”

On September 19, Avakian wrote Glaser, “If possible… I would like to have Louis record the Kurt Weill ‘Moritat (Ballad of Mack the Knife),’ which we were not able to record in Hollywood. I realize it will be next to impossible to do so because Louis will have so many things to do in the three days before he leaves for Europe, but I will save some time late at night in our 30th Street Studio in case one session is possible. This number is all arranged, and I have the score and complete parts in my office. It would, of course, be a hit in Europe because of its great familiarity to European audiences.”

Avakian hoped Armstrong could fit in the date, but not wanting to wait for an answer, he went ahead and recorded Lenya singing “Moritat von Mackie Messer” in the original German with Turk Murphy’s band on September 22.

After a few days, Glaser answered that Armstrong would be available for a late session on September 28, just two days before leaving for a three-month European tour with his All Stars, now featuring trombonist Trummy Young, clarinetist Edmond Hall, pianist Billy Kyle and drummer Barrett Deems in addition to stalwart Arvell Shaw on bass.

With everyone assembled for the 10:30 p.m. session, Armstrong and the All Stars recorded one of their “good old good ones” first, “Back o’ Town Blues.” We already encountered this number from Armstrong’s big band days but it was a staple of the All Stars’ repertoire from their inception.

[2025 update; here’s the recording sheet from the tape box]

And from the Mosaic set, here’s the rehearsal take, described below:

Avakian began rolling tape on a full rehearsal take, Armstrong keeping his sidemen focused, reminding them of their “catcall” responses and of the background figures to be played behind his vocal (this rehearsal could have also been for Hall’s benefit as the new man in the band). Young and Shaw could be heard getting in on the act, but Armstrong also invited valet Doc Pugh up to say a line. On later takes, Shaw referenced the object of Armstrong’s affection as working at the Braddock Bar in Harlem, but Shaw was off-mike, so Avakian overdubbed another friend saying, “Hey, Pops, why don’t you look up to Basin Street” and yet another guest shouting, “Lay it on ’em, Satchmo, lay it on ’em!” Avakian never identified these voices but they’re most likely members of Armstrong’s New York entourage, perhaps June Clark or bandboy Vernon Black. In the end, Avakian’s razor blade sliced off one of the two opening ensemble choruses, as well as Young’s roaring solo but he was still able to squeeze the 3:48 final edit onto the flip side of “Mack the Knife.”

When “Mack” proved to be a hit, one of the benefactors was Armstrong’s longtime music director Luis Russell, who had co-composer credit on “Back O’ Town Blues.” Russell’s daughter, vocalist Catherine Russell, remembered enough royalties coming in because of “Mack” that her father was able to buy the family a brand-new car!

Finally, it was time to work on “Mack the Knife.” In putting this set together, we were greeted by a most welcome surprise: unbeknownst to anyone, Avakian decided to let the tapes roll, capturing over 15 minutes of the All Stars working out and rehearsing what became one of the biggest hits of Armstrong’s career. There’s long stretches of silence, mumbled conversations and practicing, but we have edited it down to include the most compelling sequences, as they illustrate not only the behind-the-scenes making of a hit record, but also the inner workings of Avakian’s lightning-fast mind.

[2025: here’s my iPhone video of the first time we listened to the previously unissued first take, described below, as it had some of Murphy’s original modulations that surprised all of us!]

For years, Avakian told tales of Murphy’s famed arrangement, but anyone familiar with the released single would be left scratching their head because there didn’t seem to be much of an arrangement on the finished product. But this rehearsal sequence shows that wasn’t the case — at first.

When Avakian began to roll tape, the All Stars were working through a bizarre minor-to-major modulation written to get them into the key of Eb for the final chorus. Everyone is heard studying the arrangement carefully, with Avakian in the studio going over the routine chorus by chorus, while Kyle works over his descending piano lines and Armstrong warms up. With Shaw’s encouraging, “Let’s get hot, fellas,” Avakian called for take 1.

Murphy’s arranged passages before and after the vocal were still intact on this previously unissued attempt. There’s a little hesitation as Hall switches from improvised obbligato to arranged lines with Young, plus Armstrong stumbles over “dropping” and says “drooping” instead — more on that in a bit — but overall, it’s a very strong first attempt. Avakian called for a playback but the wheels were turning.

When he resumed recording, the band was still rehearsing, with Hall and Kyle struggling with the minor-to-major interlude before the last chorus, though Armstrong picks up his trumpet and starts playing it flawlessly!

But then Avakian comes to the rescue and can be heard telling them to cut the interlude and instead make a break before the band reenters in the new key of Eb. A wary Kyle asks of Armstrong, “How is he going to get in there that quick?” Avakian confidentially responds, “Oh, you can do it, Louie.” Sure enough, they rehearse it and Armstrong nails the transition, exclaiming, “Solid,” once everyone is on the same page. A complete second take, not included in this set, followed before Avakian offered up his next suggestion that the record could benefit from a spoken intro by Armstrong. It took four tries, but Armstrong finally nailed the eventual record’s iconic “Dig man, there goes Mack the Knife” opening.

We’ve included an unissued attempt before an interesting take 3, which provided some of the vocal that ended up on the master, but there’s still some sloppiness as Deems forgets to switch back to sticks for the rideout. Armstrong also tries to sneak in a “Swing one, Satch” before the last chorus, but doesn’t quite get his trumpet to his chops in time.

Avakian eventually called for an insert of the rideout chorus to be made, recording it three times, the third and final time being good enough to make it onto the master. We have included the first unissued attempt, a very exciting chorus highlighted by a searing high note shake that didn’t make it onto the final record.

Armstrong also correctly sings “dropping down” on take 3, but Avakian, remembering the accidental “drooping” from take 1, pulled him aside between takes and told him to sing “drooping,” even writing it on his lyric sheet; all later artists who performed this song, like Bobby Darin and Frank Sinatra, have George Avakian and a Louis Armstrong stumble to thank for always singing “drooping down!”

[2025: And here is the original lyric sheet, a gift from George Avakian to David Ostwald, that David allowed us to reproduce in the set!]

Take 4 isn’t included here but provided the two opening choruses on the single, as well as some more of the finished vocal.

Before take 5, Avakian instructed Armstrong, “Somewhere along the way, if you feel like you might make ‘Mack the Knife’ sound sinister instead of gay, when you sing ‘Maaaack the Knife,’ like you’re a little scared, you know?” Armstrong responds, “He’s a bad man.” “He’s a real bad man,” Avakian agrees. This is one piece of advice Armstrong didn’t follow as he continued to sing it in his effervescent style. Avakian also asked the band to “Jump it real good. Give me all that spirit, lots of drive.” But both takes 5 and 6, not included here, broke down, 5 due to a goof in Hall’s interlude before the vocal and 6 because Armstrong sings “Mack-knife” instead of “Jackknife.” Finally, a complete, exciting take 7 gave Avakian everything he still needed to complete the job.

Take 7 has never been previously issued in complete form but it might sound familiar to some listeners because much of this vocal cropped up on the later Columbia LP, Louis Armstrong and Eddie Condon at Newport. Armstrong spent his 1956 Newport set singing into the wrong microphone, so for the album, Avakian used instrumental portions from a live rehearsal at Lewisohn Stadium in July 1956 and unused vocal portions takes 6 and 7 from the September 1955 session, despite the fact that they had two different tempos and two different bass players!

[If you’d like to hear this Frankenstein edit, go to 4:30 in the following video.]

Avakian might have been covered, but he wasn’t out of ideas just yet. He had invited Lotte Lenya to the session, most likely after a late performance of The Threepenny Opera since Armstrong’s session was booked until 3 o’clock in the morning.

[2025: I didn’t mention this in the notes, but though it was Avakian’s idea, he was the head of Columbia’s long-playing division, while Mitch Miller was head of Columbia’s singles department. Since “Mack the Knife” would be a single, Miller dropped in on the session and had his photo taken with Louis, too.]

While waiting for Lenya to show, the All Stars recorded a “background track” in Lenya’s key of G without a vocal, most likely so Avakian could have something to overdub her in case she didn’t show. Eventually, she did arrive but Avakian probably regretted it as soon as she opened her mouth. “The performance didn’t come off because Lenya just had no sense of jazz rhythm,” Avakian said. “I couldn’t believe it.”

Lenya might have been great as Polly Peachum on the stage but she simply couldn’t swing with Satchmo. mack the knife captures the whole scene as it happened, with Lenya struggling mightily with a half-note rest, as Armstrong patiently coaches her through it. Eventually, they got through enough of it unscathed for a master take to be edited, but it wasn’t issued at the time. What horrified Avakian, though, was the commercial release of Lenya’s struggles on a Bear Family boxed set in 1998 and a Sony reissue of Lenya Sings Weill in 1999.

[2025 note: One of Louis’s lines to Lotte Lenya during the “Mack the Knife” session has always baffled me and I didn’t get it into in the Mosaic notes. Louis hums a quick note while Lenya is singing, Avakian stops them and said he heard both voices for a second. Louis denies it, joking “Her voice is turning like mine,” before shouting something about peaches. Perhaps a reference to Polly Peacham, I thought? But while consulting an interview from 1953 on one of Louis’s tapes, Louis told a story about a session with Buck Washington of Buck and Bubbles. He said that Buck had to play piano, sing, and whistle, and after one take, the producer said, “Well, get them fuzz off your vocal chords there.” And Buck respond, “What you mean, like on peaches there?” And Louis went into hysterics relaying this story. I re-listened to the Lenya sequence and he shouts, “Them fur [or maybe fuzz] is for peaches, is happening there!” As always with his voice, I’m not sure that’s 100% accurate, but I bet it’s a reference to the Buck Washington line.] 

“It’s horrible,” Avakian says of the rehearsal. “I never wanted anybody to hear it.” In actuality, it’s a very sweet sequence as Lenya is a good sport and Armstrong couldn’t be any more gentle and encouraging in his instruction. When she finally nails it at the end, Armstrong cheers like a proud papa watching his child take their first steps.

[2025: though it wasn’t issued at time, an edited “master take” was assembled using Lenya’s best moments; it’s still not exactly one for the pantheon, but it’s an interesting experiment.]

Lenya was free to go home but Avakian couldn’t quit just yet and decided to go into overtime to try out one more idea. According to the original recording logs, it was 3:35 a.m. when he had the All Stars record yet another version of “Mack,” this time a slower, shorter instrumental version with the original title, “Moritat.” It’s possible Avakian was covering himself in case radio disc jockeys objected to the blood-thirsty lyrics. The All Stars were beyond exhausted by this point, with multiple attempts breaking down, causing an angry Armstrong to bark after a hesitant missed break, “It sounds like you all don’t know what you’re doing!” They got through it on take 5, but the results weren’t issued until a Book-of-the-Month LP boxed set in 1982.

At some point, Armstrong put the headphones back on to overdub his trumpet obbligato behind his vocal and record the spoken, “Take it, Satch” that lead to the closing rideout, but those tapes no longer seem to have survived. Finally, at 4 a.m., Armstrong and the All Stars were able to go home and prepare for their trip to Europe 48 hours later, but Avakian’s work was really just beginning. When it came time to editing, Avakian got a lot of shaves out of his razor blade, eliminating the clarinet interlude before the vocal and making so many splices in the vocal, it’s almost impossible to reconstruct exactly how he did it (in transferring the tape of the original single for this set, the producers couldn’t keep up when trying to count the number of short splices in the vocal).

[2025, here’s a short taste of me trying to count the splices before one of the original splices comes apart, necessitating a quick fix by Matt Cavaluzzo, a true pro.]

Such practices remained controversial, but Avakian was proud of his handiwork. He addressed it in a Nat Hentoff story in the December 12, 1956 edition of Down Beat:

“If it is possible to improve the performance artistically without hurting the artist in any way, I owe it to the artist to use the processes that are available to me. Whatever I do in splicing is always consonant with the artists’ character and does not violate the artist’s own integrity. Everything as issued is what the artist might have played. And you know, the way we splice, there are many splices I made that I myself can’t detect any more. You’d be shocked to know how much splicing was done on some sides.

“Take Louis’ ‘Mack the Knife.’ Now, that flows along nicely, as if it were one performance, doesn’t it? It was spliced from four different takes, even including words that were taken from one take and placed into another. I liked Louis’ inflection on ‘drooping’ on one take and inserted it in the final version. I spent the whole day editing ‘Mack’ because I believed in the record.”

Columbia released Armstrong’s single at the beginning of November 1955 as “A Theme from the Threepenny Opera (Mack the Knife).”

They simultaneously released an instrumental recording by Turk Murphy (with more of his arrangement intact, and a vocal introduction by Lotte Lenya).

Word must have spread about Avakian’s endeavors, as MGM also released an instrumental version featuring Dick Hyman whistling and playing a “harpsichord piano.”

Billboard reviewed Armstrong’s single in its November 19, 1955 issue, writing, “Trick lyrics sell this tune from Weill’s ‘Three Penny Opera.’ The Satch comes thru in the usual great style with his own blowing dubbed in behind the singing.” Not all reviews were as positive; one in The Gramophone discussed “Mack’s” “unnecessarily long, and in places, revolting lyric that might easily incite impressionable teenagers to violence (and has had that effect in America, I understand.)”

Armstrong’s record eventually landed on the Billboard charts, hitting the number 20 spot, though perhaps surprisingly, Hyman’s harpsichord version hit number 1! At number 20, Billboard described it as a “fair seller,” but Avakian always maintained that “Mack the Knife” sold more copies than generally known — many more copies. Why? Because the “Columbia Record Club” was sweeping the nation and Louis was a big part of it in 1956. Avakian maintained that the Record Club didn’t measure individual sales but he assured me that Armstrong’s mack the knife “sold in the millions” just through the Record Club alone; Armstrong was even on the cover of the May 1956 Columbia Record Club Magazine.

Armstrong wasn’t able to immediately take advantage of his hit on his three-month international tour. Avakian caught up with him in October to begin recording material for Ambassador Satch and told him “Mack” would be a smash in Europe. Unfortunately, Armstrong entrusted his valet Doc Pugh with the arrangement and Pugh didn’t bring it to Europe, so Armstrong was unable to capitalize on the song’s familiarity overseas.

Back home in 1956, Armstrong now had a hit record on the Billboard charts but was still unable to perform it live because Pugh had officially lost the arrangement entirely! “Opening night at the Fontainebleau in Miami,” Avakian wrote about Armstrong’s return to the United States, “Louis fielded requests for his hit with charm and ‘come back tomorrow, folks, and we’ll lay it on you!’ That evening, he took the band down to the hotel coffee shop, armed with five dollars worth of dimes and a stack of blank music paper. They fed the jukebox over and over, copying their own parts…and that’s how Louis Armstrong got to play his multi-million seller-to-be for the first time in public.” Avakian remembered Armstrong appearing at the Fontainebleau in Miami but in actuality, he was at Ciro’s in Miami from February 9–19. This is undoubtedly where Mack the Knife made its debut in the All Stars’ repertoire, never to leave, a mainstay in his live shows up to his death in 1971, and a heavy influence on later Grammy-winning versions by Bobby Darin and Ella Fitzgerald.
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That concludes the notes portion of this look at the 70th anniversary of the “Mack the Knife” session, but now it’s time to reward your attention spans with some bonuses from our Archives! First off, here’s the final session photo, not taken by, but rather collected by Jack Bradley:

Jack Bradley also collected the sheet music, with Louis’s image on the cover:

For Louis’s part, his collection contains 23 (!) copies of “Mack the Knife” on 45. Here’s probably the earliest one, a “Promotion Record” with a white label, marked “Not For Sale”:

Now here’s a real curiosity; on February 6, 1956, Louis made a tape for his friends in France, Hugues Panassie and Madeleine Gautier. Without any introduction, he plays the first part of the hit single of “Mack the Knife.” But midway through, he switches to the duet with Lotte Lenya! Unfortunately, he senses he’s running out of tape, announces that he will continue on the other side, and picks up with the Lenya version. But as Louis shouts, “Take it, Fraulein,” he switches back to the All Stars version in time for the “Take it, Satch” rideout chorus. It’s a cool example of Louis in DJ mode, already remixing his own recording, but I’ll be damned to know where he got the “Take it, Fraulein” tape because I don’t recall it in the tapes from Sony and alas, it appears nowhere else in our Archives:

Another mystery: in our Archives is an acetate disc made at Nola Recording Studios on West 57th Street in New York City, featuring Louis doing the Lenya duet arrangement but with Velma Middleton! It’s clearly the same edition of the All Stars so it must have been made somewhere around 1956, but this doesn’t appear in any discographies, though Louis did seem to enjoy it and dubbed it to multiple tapes. First, the record (notating it as “Mac the Knife”):

And here’s the audio:

Isn’t that fun? Velma’s a natural (even if she turns “Polly Peachum” into “Polly Seaman”) and it would have been fun to hear them do it as a duet in live settings, but I guess the original was such a big hit, Louis decided to keep it as his own.

One of the earliest surviving live performances of “Mack the Knife” comes from an episode of Steve Allen’s Tonight Show, broadcast live on March 22, 1956. The visual no longer survives, but thankfull, the Tonight Show folks sent Louis an acetate disc with his segment. He had just finished performing at the Fox Fabian Theater in Brooklyn with Woody Herman and made it to the live broadcast in time to talk to Allen about his new, svelte figure (the Swiss Kriss plug goes over the audience’s head and Allen’s too nervous to read Louis’s diet chart on the air) and perform “Mack the Knife.” Louis’s chops were probably beat from the concert so he doesn’t blow, but he sings with great cheer (though he “Louie Miller” becomes “Lookie Miller” and he closes with a hilarious “Jack, Mack eats in town!”). The All Stars had gone home to bed by this point, so Louis is backed by the Tonight Show studio orchestra, conducted by Skitch Henderson–enjoy this rare treat!

We should close with the voices of our main participants. First, an excerpt from a tape-recorded interview from 1960 where Louis talks about how he related “Mack the Knife” to the characters he knew in New Orleans (he also makes the same “Polly Seaman” error Velma did!):

And finally, in 1993, George Avakian donated a tape to our Archives that contains the definitive telling of his role in the saga, a perfect little summary of all of the above:

That concludes our celebration of the 70th anniversary of “Mack the Knife.” That’s for reading–take it, Satch!