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Mr. Records: Evelyn Freeman, "Didn't It Rain"

08-13-2026 | By Robert Pincus | Issue 146

If you enjoy pop vocal records from the sixties, you might be familiar with the name Ernie Freeman (1922-1981). Freeman wrote the arrangements for Frank Sinatra’s 1966 album That’s Life (Reprise FS-1020) and Dean Martin's 1963 album Everybody Loves Somebody (Reprise RS-6130). He was also the pianist on the 1962 album Roots (Reprise R9-6057) by blues singer Jimmy Witherspoon. Lesser known but equally talented was Ernie’s sister Evelyn (1919-2017) whose 1959 album Didn’t It Rain (Bel Canto SR1010) is the subject of this review.

The album Didn’t It Rain was actually credited to Evelyn Freeman and The Exciting Voices. So what else did she do? In the mid-1930s she formed The Evelyn Freeman Swing Band which included Ernie on piano. Soon after WW2, she married singer Tommy Edwards in New York City. The two became regular performers in the city’s nightclub scene, sharing bills with people like Lionel Hampton and Cab Calloway. During the late fifties Freeman formed a new group, the Evelyn Freeman Orchestra, who worked the showrooms of Las Vegas, backing performers such as Peggy Lee and Frankie Laine.

And who were The Exciting Voices? They were the incredibly talented R&B vocal group The Hollywood Flames, featuring a dynamic lead singer named Earl Nelson (1928-2008). On this album they were augmented by two female singers, one of which I assume was Freeman.

Didn’t It Rain is a rock ‘n’ roll-leaning gospel album, and I’m crazy about three cuts. It was first issued on the short-lived Los Angeles record label Bel Canto in 1959. They were essentially an audiophile label, one of the first to license titles from other companies to produce two-track reel-to-reel tapes. In fact, they were the folks who made the tape versions of the spectacular sounding Martin Denny albums on Liberty. (I wrote about Denny HERE.) Bel Canto also issued seven-inch singles and albums by the few artists who were signed to them. Although their mono LPs were pressed on standard black vinyl, their stereo LPs were pressed on beautiful translucent blue vinyl. After Bel Canto went out of business, United Artists reissued Didn’t It Rain in 1962. (Good luck finding a UA copy. I’ve only seen it once and it was trashed.)

Side one cut one is the Side Side one cut one is the spiritual “‘Ol’ Ark’s A-Moverin’.” It opens with two seconds of a cappella singing that might have you thinking that it’s going to be sung traditionally. However, the singers are jumping with rhythm and blues, and the brass and the drummer were infected by the rock ‘n’ roll bug! Nelson’s lead vocal is mesmerizing, especially when he belts the words: “See that brother dressed so fine / He ain’t got religion on his mind.” And the way the drummer smacks out the beat on his snare drum is practically worth the entire record, and I’ll bet that the man holding the sticks was Earl Palmer! I could go on and on, but this cut is forcing my butt away from my computer. And, by the way, you need to play this cut loud so you can feel the thwack of the snare. This will cause Nelson’s lead vocal to sound a little too loud, but the drummer and the singers deserve your attention. If this cut doesn’t make your booty shake, your time to make burial plans has arrived.

Cut three is “Let Us Break Bread Together.” Freeman and company aren't forging any new ground on this traditional cut, but I really like it. The lead vocalist isn’t Nelson, but whoever he is, he’s awfully good. The singing is pretty close to a cappella, as the brass and string bass are only there to offer a foundation in the background. In fact, unless you’re looking for them, you’ll barely notice their contribution.

Cut four is why I own this record. It’s the rousing spiritual “Didn’t It Rain.” I compared Freeman’s record to other versions, including those by Sister Rossetta Tharpe and Mahalia Jackson. As enjoyable as they were, neither matches the roof-raising energy of Freeman. The cut opens with the three seconds of nothing but stomping feet. The singers are stomping on what sounds like a hollow wood floor, no doubt a hollow platform brought into the studio for the purpose of making this record. At four seconds the stomping singers are accompanied by their voices, and their voices are captured in a panoramic stereo. At this point, all they’re singing is ooh ooh ooh ooh-ooh ooh/ooh ooh ooh ooh. (I may be off by an ooh or two!) The oohing lasts for approximately fourteen seconds. Their accompaniment is a distant (off-mic) acoustic guitar on the left and that fantastic drummer in the middle. At twenty-seven seconds Nelson starts to scream, but it’s the most musical screaming I’ve ever heard. His scream is what introduces the lyrics that are sung by the other singers. In addition to the lyrics are some of the most dynamic hand claps ever captured on tape! By this point there is so much singing, screaming, clapping, and tambourine smacking that I can’t stop myself from clapping along. And, by the way, if you aren’t able to crank this cut loud enough so that your neighbors can hear it, don’t even bother playing it. In addition to being the best cut on the album, it’s also the album’s demo cut. However, here’s a warning: If you play it too loud Nelson’s screams will make your ears ring. Playing this cut at the right volume reminds me of playing Ravel’s Bolero. It takes some practice.

You might be wondering how I discovered this gold foil covered gem with three great cuts. Here’s how: During my early teens, I used to visit my Uncle Jon’s house often. He and his wife had a home in Reseda, not too far from my home in Canoga Park. My uncle, who has been an audiophile since the early sixties, one day asked me if I’d like to hear a fun gospel record. I’m sure my answer was a resounding “yes.” What I didn’t expect was something as wild and crazy as “Didn’t It Rain.” I was flabbergasted! Up to this point in my life, I knew that audio equipment, especially tubed audio equipment, was going to be a lifelong obsession, but I had no idea that recorded music could leap into a room with such an intense sense of they-are-here palpability. I had to find this record!

Uncle Jon’s copy of "Didn’t It Rain" is the mono version. I can still see the gold foil peeling off the white cardboard jacket as if it were yesterday. For years, I assumed that it was a never-issued-in-stereo title. The mono system I heard it on consisted of a late forties JBL C33 cabinet sporting two fifteen-inch D130B woofers, and a model 175 compression driver with its companion horn. (The driver/horn/lens combo is called the JBL 175DLH.) The mono preamp was either McIntosh C8 or a Fisher 80C, the amplifier was a Fisher 50A, and the turntable was probably a Dual 1019. I’m still looking for a mono copy just so I can hear if the title cut actually had a dedicated mono mix, perhaps one that’s a little smoother on Nelson’s voice. I searched the internet and I saw zilch, so it looks like I’m stuck with my incredible found-in-the-eighties stereo copy. Oh the pain!

What about those fantastic Hollywood Flames? They came from Los Angeles and they formed in 1949. They went through numerous personnel changes before Nelson joined as their lead singer in 1957. It’s worth noting that another member of The Hollywood Flames was Bobby Day who became famous for recording the hit song “Rockin’ Robin” and co-writing the classic "Little Bitty Pretty One.” I listened to a few of the Hollywood Flames songs looking for a catchy cut with Nelson singing lead. This effort brought me to the incredibly stimulating “Buzz Buzz Buzz” which you can listen to HERE.

When I first started writing for Positive Feedback my goal was to write about easy to find records. It didn’t take long for me to discover that wasn’t a whole lot of fun. I never ripped myself out of bed on a Saturday morning to search for Journey, Tom Petty, and The Doobie Brothers. I hope you’ve had as much fun reading about this record as I’ve had revisiting it. If you’re ever in a Goodwill store, or a well-stocked used record shop, and you just happen to see an LP covered in gold foil that’s not Grand Funk’s We’re an American Band, grab that sucker. And if you find a mono copy of Didn’t It Rain, you know who to send it to.