Kansas City

May 1959

The songwriting team of Jerry Leiber and Mike Stoller was one of the most successful in early rock and roll. They're probably best known for giving us several of Elvis's biggest hits ("Hound Dog," "Jailhouse Rock," and "Loving You," among others), as well as most of the Coasters' hits. "Kansas City" was one of their early successes, becoming a minor hit for Little Willie Littlefield in 1952. But it wasn't until '59 that it became a staple of rock music, due to a version by Wilbert Harrison that spent two weeks at #1.



It's since been covered by countless singers and groups (here's the Beatles playing it, in an altered version). But let's compare the original to the #1 hit version that came out seven years later. I think this is a very good example of the development of rock and roll music. The Littlefield version could be considered R&R, if you were so inclined. But not exactly.

Probably the most defining aspect of rock music is the drum beat. In the 1951 song, it has a very clear jazz "swing" feel to it – listen especially to the hi-hat. And how about those saxophone lines that run constantly throughout the song? Again, very heavily jazz-inflected. The whole song has a sort of lazy trotting feel to it (not in a bad way).

And now the Wilbert Harrison version. The difference is night and day – just listen to the pound-pound-pounding of those drums. This, in particular, is perhaps the most important part of what makes rock music what it is. The beat goes "one TWO three FOUR..." with a strong emphasis on beats two and four. Listen to any pre-50s music, and you won't find this rhythm. It seems so basic and intuitive, but it was indeed an innovation – somebody had to do it first. Jazz music often placed the emphasis on two and four, but it was never a strong drum hit like it is here. Both songs feature a Fats Domino-esque rolling piano figure, and a similar vocal style, but the later version is much more "rock and roll" than the earlier one. And what's that in the '59 version? An electric guitar solo! Here is the influence of another major figure in rock music, Chuck Berry. Although he never had a #1 hit (What's that? He did? I CAN'T HEAR YOU LALALALALALALALALALA), his influence was felt throughout the next decade and long after that.

Another thing that struck me about Harrison's "Kansas City" – I'm surprised a pre-civil rights America was so enthusiastic about a black man singing such implicitly sexual lyrics. But I guess if "Stagger Lee" could pass muster then so could this.

A+

The Happy Organ

May 1959

In what might be the most unintentionally hilarious artist/song-title combination ever to become a hit, a guy calling himself Dave "Baby" Cortez recorded an instrumental song called "The Happy Organ."

It's surprising to see an instrumental song at the top of the chart, if only for one week – even fifty years ago when instrumentals were somewhat viable as a genre. And of course I'm always happy to hear a rock and roll song instead of a schmaltzy pop track.

And what sets this one apart from the rest is, of course, the organ as a lead instrument. Jazz artists like Jimmy Smith were using it earlier in the decade, but as far as I know, "Happy Organ" was the first rock and roll hit to feature the instrument. The implications of this are pretty far-reaching – the organ came to be an essential feature of the R&B, garage rock, and psychedelic music of the next decade.

Cortez himself had another top ten hit a few years later called "Rinky Dink" (okay – song titles were not this guy's strong point). Aptly, the very same year (1962), Booker T. and the M.G.'s had a hit with "Green Onions." The difference in style between the two songs is striking. Cortez may have been the innovator, but his songs were essentially novelty hits. The M.G.'s had soul in a big way. If you haven't watched the video because you figured you already know the song from its (over)use in commercials and sports venues, watch it – it's a particularly good live performance. In just a few short years, the organ had been transformed from a curiosity to a major driving force in music, particularly in the R&B genre.

B+

Come Softly to Me

April–May 1959

The singing trio Two Girls and a Guy recorded a pleasant little number called "Come Softly to Me" – by the time the song was released, they had changed their name to the Fleetwoods, and the song became #1 for four weeks, their first and biggest hit.

You don't really hear pop music anymore like this – where the music's entire appeal is in the vocal arrangement for a small group of singers. (Or do you? Let me know if you think of something.) There are no frills whatsoever, and the pleasure that the Americans of 1959 derived from hearing the song is derived from hearing a few voices sing a nice tune, and harmonize with each other. The instrumental arrangement is sparse, and the singers don't have much personality. The success of the song rides almost completely on the notes put down on paper, as opposed to many pop songs which have passionate performances, or unique production techniques. Any vocal trio could have sung this song and it would have turned out more or less the same.

It reminds me of – bear with me – classical music. Schubert's fifth symphony will sound basically the same no matter which orchestra is playing it, under which conductor (assuming a competent performance). Obviously some performances/recordings are more passionate or inspired than others, but the beauty of the symphony lies largely in the written notes. As a counterexample, the Rolling Stones' "Symphony," er, "Sympathy for the Devil" sounds lousy when it's played by anybody but the Stones, as proved by any number of useless cover versions. The power of the song lies not in the written notes, but in the hugely inspired performance thereof.

Clearly these are two extremes, and lots of music falls in between. I purposely chose something from the Classical (late 18th to early 19th c.) period because of the music's reserved nature. Cognoscenti may scoff, but I would say that performances of Haydn and Mozart don't vary as greatly as performances of, say, Stravinsky. The 20th century modernist's music is much more dynamic and varied, so various interpretations could be quite different, while still playing the same notes on the page. On the other side, we have a group like the Beach Boys – if, in a parallel universe, a different five guys had played and sung the exact same notes and the exact same words, it's likely that their story would have worked out pretty much the same. Indeed, the band's lineup changed quite a bit, even in the 60s – did you notice? Sure, they were greatly talented performers, but the greatest aspect of their music is in the masterful writing of Brian Wilson.

Okay, okay... back to "Come Softly to Me." To me, this is firmly on the Schubert side of the fence. The music shares almost nothing else with that of the great classical master, and its similarity is pretty far under the surface, but it's there. Let's go back to our parallel universe – a different two girls and a guy had the exact same idea, at the exact same time, and recorded the same song. Would it have been a hit? Methinks so.

C+

Venus

March–April 1959

Non-threatening crooner Frankie Avalon scored a five-weeker with "Venus," probably the most popular song ever written about Roman mythology.

This is the kind of soulless pap I'm glad we're rid of (don't worry, it's been replaced by a different kind of soulless pap). While it gets maybe one coolness point for essentially praying to a pagan god, it loses thousands for being about half as exciting as tying your shoes. Also, "a little girl for me to thrill" might have flown in the 50s, but today this guy would be on Dateline NBC.

Almost twenty years later, Avalon rerecorded the song in a disco version, which actually charted, despite being completely dull. We'll have plenty of time to talk about disco, though, when it comes around in the blog – can't wait!

D

Stagger Lee

February–March 1959

It's hard to believe that the same America that gave the Chipmunks a #1 single turned around and started buying Lloyd Price's "Stagger Lee," a surprisingly graphic tale of a barroom murder which was #1 for four weeks. Here it is, accompanied by a pretty fun fan video:

What can I say, this song is just plain awesome. It's based on an old blues song of obscure authorship, which in turn was apparently based on a real murder; the most famous recording before 1959 was by Mississippi John Hurt, who spells it "Stack O' Lee" but still seems to pronounce it the same. The older version is pretty different, and not just in the musical arrangement. The main theme in Hurt's version is made pretty explicit by the oft-repeated refrain: "That bad man / Oh, cruel Stack O' Lee." The later hit version stops at the murder, but Hurt goes on to tell of Lee's execution by hanging, further reinforcing the character's villainy: "At 12 o'clock they killed him / We was all glad to see him die."

Lloyd Price's telling is much more matter-of-fact. Stagger Lee got in a fight with Billy over gambling, went home to get his .44, and came back to shoot Billy dead. The morality of the situation is not explored. Stagger Lee might be the bad guy, but then again he might be the hero – the story is told completely from his perspective, and how about that upbeat rock and roll arrangement?

TV host Dick Clark surely acknowledged this moral ambiguity, and so his solution was to have the lyrics changed so that Price could appear on American Bandstand. The altered version is so absurd that it's practically a parody. Not only is there no gambling; there's no murder. Stagger Lee and Billy even make up at the end. History is full of Bowdlers and Braghettones – as long as there's art, there'll be people declaring it obscene. The good news is that history invariably sides with the artist. "Stagger Lee" is a classic, and the Dick Clark version has been relegated to a small corner of history (only 174 views on that Youtube video!).

A+

Smoke Gets in Your Eyes

January–February 1959

Originally written in the 30s for the musical Roberta, "Smoke Gets in Your Eyes" has been covered many a-time, most famously in this version by the Platters, which was #1 for three weeks. Here it is, if you can pardon the inept lip-syncing:

This is an example of a song I knew as a jazz standard before I had ever heard the original version. To choose just one example, here's Thelonious Monk playing it. Starting with the bebop artists of the 40s, converting popular songs and show tunes into jazz abstractions was standard fare, and this continued through the 50s and 60s - unquestionably the most productive and creative three decades for jazz music. But as somebody from a much later time, all that music is from the past for me, and you might say I tend to discover these old songs backwards. After all, the intended listeners of all the old jazz greats were expected to already be familiar with songs like these. With the occasional exception, it's the opposite for me - the jazz version is a brand new tune.

It could just be my biased opinion, but I believe you really don't have to know the original song to appreciate improvisations based on it. Although for my favorite example of this, I think everybody knows the original - "My Favorite Things" from The Sound of Music. The show tune is ridiculously campy but kind of cute, I guess, in its own way. However, John Coltrane's interpretation of it is deeply spiritual and moving (I won't link to it - it's very long, and you should really hear a version with good sound quality to do it justice). If you haven't heard it, it probably seems impossible to take such a corny old song so seriously, but Coltrane and his (terrific) band completely reinvent the song, so much that you totally forget where it came from.

So what do I think about "Smoke Gets in Your Eyes"? I don't really have much to say about it other than it's a good song. A damn good song. I don't know the original show tune version, and quite frankly I don't really care to seek it out, but I really like the Platters singing it. Okay well... till next time!

B+

Special Secret Bonus Post—1958 Awards

I think it's probably a good idea to recap each year when I get to the end of it. It's not going to be as interesting for '58 because I started more than halfway through the year, but here goes:

Most Weeks at #1: "It's All in the Game," with 6 weeks, which just barely edges out "Volare" at 5.

Best Song: "To Know Him Is to Love Him." I dunno, something about this tune just resonates well with me. You may or may not agree but I just think it's a really well-written song. And I'm not even taking into account the historical importance of it being Phil Spector's first hit single. Keep in mind, this is merely my favorite #1 single of 1958, not my favorite song - that would undoubtedly be Chuck Berry's "Johnny B. Goode."

Worst Song: "Christmas Don't Be Late." Easy choice for this year. Oh that adorable Alvin, he really wants a hula hoop!

Most Surprising Song: "Tom Dooley." I had no idea this kind of music was this popular in the late 50s. This blog is, of course, a learning experience for me.

Well that does it for this year. See you in 1959!

The Chipmunk Song (Christmas Don't Be Late)

December 1958–January 1959

During the holiday season of 1958, America failed.

This is the only Christmas song to ever hit #1 (Thankfully, Billboard created a separate Christmas chart a few years later). Not only was it the top selling single for the two weeks leading up to the big day, it continued to hold the top spot for the first two weeks of January. For the next few years, it reentered the top 100 every winter. In 2007, following the release of a new Alvin and the Chipmunks movie, it was back in the top 100 again. Another "remixed" version of the song also entered the charts.

What can I really say about Alvin and the Chipmunks, other than they are extremely annoying, and inexplicably popular. But I guess I can use this opportunity to talk about Christmas music a bit. It seems most Americans have a love-hate relationship with the genre. We won't hesitate to complain about hearing "Sleigh Bells" for the thousandth time in the mall, but I think almost everybody has a selection of holiday-themed music that strikes a certain chord. For me, it's the Nutracker Suite and Elvis's Christmas music. I think what's most important is that I used to hear these every year as a child, at a time when I was particularly excited about being a kid. There's nothing like a dose of nostalgia from time to time, and this stuff really does it for me. Then there's a Christmas album by gospel singer Mahalia Jackson, whose often indecipherable vocal eccentricities were a constant source of amusement for me and my sister ("the Hebrew chil-DRAH-NAH").

Even in China, a place where you'd most expect to be able to escape from the banalities of American consumer culture, jingle bells abound at the ever-increasing number of malls and big box stores. Seeing wiry Chinese Santa Clauses walking around, and signs that say "Xmas Merry!" is slightly bizarre - it's a variety of Western/American holiday symbols, completely removed from their cultural context.

But anyway, I guess the main conclusion I can draw from the Chipmunks, Elvis, and Tchaikovsky is that I can't really like new Christmas music - it's all about what I grew up with. I shudder to think that, had my family played the 'Munks around the house when I was young, I might have the same wistful feeling for this stupid song as I do for Elvis. I have only Mom and Dad to thank for that one!

F

To Know Him Is to Love Him

December 1958

A name you'll be seeing a lot in this blog is Phil Spector, and "To Know Him Is to Love Him" was his very first hit. You could say he was off to a good start, as it spent 3 weeks at #1. Unlike his future work, his involvement in the Teddy Bears was as a singing member (not the lead, obviously).



It's really a sweet song, and I'm gonna go ahead and call it the best song I've covered so far. Not to get too technical but it makes great use of a fairly standard chord progression - something about that transition from the vi to the IV chord just has a tremendous feeling of lift (in the first verse, it falls on "makes my life worthwhile"). It does exactly what a great pop song should do - it takes established norms of songwriting and tweaks them just enough to make something really original.

As for the performance, of course it's a little corny, but you gotta love how singer Annette Kleinbard keeps it subdued for the verses, but then amps it up for the middle eight section. It gives the song a real dynamic feeling.

"To Know Him Is to Love Him" was successfully recorded in the late 80s by the trio of Dolly Parton, Linda Ronstadt, and Emmylou Harris. It's proven to be quite an enduring song over the years, having been covered by artists as diverse as the Beatles and, oddly enough, Amy Winehouse. For me though, the original version is by far the best.

After all the news about Phil Spector in the last few years, it can be a bit eerie listening to this old tune - like looking at old childhood photos of a serial killer. But look into this man's eyes, and you just might see the kindness of his heart:

A

Tom Dooley

November 1958

This arrangement by the Kingston Trio of a traditional American folk song seems pretty left-field for a chart topping single, but here it is, popular enough to interrupt Conway Twitty's #1 spot for one short week.

The Kingston Trio was part of the so-called "folk revival" in America, in which age-old traditional songs were brought back into the public consciousness. Reading about the group online, I'm realizing they were enormously popular around the turn of the decade, which is funny because time has mostly forgotten them. Hearing this, their most famous song, it's not hard to see why the kids these days aren't trading Kingston Trio mp3s. The music is extremely campy and unchallenging, which is incredible because the lyrics are quite dark - the story of a man about to be hanged for a brutal murder. It's definitely not your usual pop single fare for any decade, let alone the 50s, and there's huge dissonance in the fact that they're singing it like it's "You Are My Sunshine."

The folk revival would eventually culminate in Bob Dylan. Murder, trial, prison, and execution have always been popular topics in folk music, and Dylan wrote some of the best songs ever written on these topics. "I Shall Be Released" is about a wrongfully accused man in prison, "The Ballad of Hollis Brown" is about a man driven to a terrible crime, and "Seven Curses" (a little-known masterpiece imo, just don't pay attention to the corny fan video) deals with all the themes "Tom Dooley" does, but it goes even further and it's a far more powerful song.

Anyway, "Dooley" is apparently based on a true story, and the song was so popular that it inspired a movie, The Legend of Tom Dooley, which I'll reserve judgment on but I'm not gonna rush out to find a copy.

B-

It's Only Make Believe

November 1958

Conway Twitty, who just might have the stupidest name in all of history, was apparently an extremely successful recording artist, with forty (!) #1 singles on the country charts, which was a record until 2006. However, only this song topped the overall Billboard chart, with a Grover Cleveland-esque run of two nonconsecutive week-long terms.

You may have noticed that Mr. Twitty really, really sounds like Elvis. Of course, in the late 50s there was no shortage of little aspiring Elvises all across this great country, but this song made me do a double take. The similarity is so striking that it is his defining feature. The song itself is fine - a pretty clever little tune that I wouldn't mind hearing from time to time, but you could fool 99 out of 100 people into thinking it was the King crooning those lyrics instead of Sir Twitty.

It's an inevitability of popular music that if somebody is insanely successful, they will be copied. Thinking back on the music that was popular when I was growing up - well, who remembers the band Bush? It's funny because it never occurred to me when I was 13 years old, but I realized later that the singer sounds inexcusably like Kurt Cobain. It's more than wearing your influences on your sleeve - it's completely surrendering to them, living and breathing them. It becomes almost a tribute act. I imagine it's not easy handling your success when you pretty much owe it all to one person you haven't ever met (except, of course, through his records).

In college, me and a few friends spent a semester as a Ween tribute band, playing only covers of their songs. It was a lot of fun, and I was surprised at the generally warm reception we got, but after you do that for a while, you kinda start to wish you had written those songs. Of course, there's a huge difference between something you do for fun in college, and something you devote your life to. It's probably unfair for me to extrapolate my experiences onto Professor Twitty's, but I would be surprised if he didn't spend a sleepless night or two fantasizing about being Elvis. Probably a lot more than one or two. Judging from his singing voice, he was damn near obsessed.

B

It's All in the Game

September–November 1958

A pretty massive hit here - this ballad by Tommy Edwards was #1 for a whopping six weeks. It seems the fall season of 1958 was practically defined by this song and "Volare."

I like how the title of the song wouldn't be at all out of place in 2009, albeit with an entirely different context. But seriously, what I actually do like about the song is that it doesn't rely on a gimmicky hook ("Twinkle twinkle little star...") to be a successful pop song. The more I listen to it, the more I like it - it has a fine melody which gets a solid treatment from Edwards. The lyrics are not your usual pop fare, either. Sure, your man treats you kinda bad sometimes, but hey, he loves you sometimes too, so stick with the guy. The thing is, the singer isn't that guy - it seems to be advice to a woman about another man.

The song has a pretty interesting history, actually. The wordless melody was written way back in 1911, by one Charles Dawes - history buffs may recognize him as the man who would become vice president of the United States under Calvin Coolidge. Wikipedia states, somewhat hilariously, that "It is the only #1 pop single to have been cowritten by a U.S. Vice President." Words were added in 1951 by some boring, non-presidential nobody, and the song became a minor hit for a few different artists, most notably Edwards himself in a strings-laden early version of the song. The later, more famous, 1958 version apparently was given a "rock and roll" arrangement, which is clearly a relative definition.

All right, so next we'll be looking at a few lesser hits, followed by the *shudder* Christmas season.

B+

Little Star

August 1958

Domenico Modugno's reign lasted for over a month, but it was briefly interrupted by the white doo-wop one-hit wonders The Elegants, whose "Little Star" was #1 for the last week of August.

Well, what can I say about this one. It says a lot about the atmosphere at this time in America that for a week, more people bought this schlocky thing than any other record. Now, gone are the days when people will take you seriously for writing a song unironically based on a nursery rhyme.

Sorry guys, I really don't have anything to say about this song. It's not very good - it's almost a parody of its own genre. Gotta love those matching plaid suits, though. And look at the mug on that kid on the left! Justin Timberlake he ain't.

C-

Nel blu dipinto di blu (Volare)

August–September 1958

As hard as it is to imagine a non-English language song becoming a huge hit today, Italian singer (and apparently, songwriter) Domenico Modugno had a #1 hit for 5 weeks with "Volare," as it was popularly called.



It's such a time capsule - his greased-back hair, his suit and bowtie, and the corny jazz orchestra playing behind him. It's not a bad song, I guess - the chorus is pretty catchy even though I don't know what he's singing about. I guess it doesn't really matter ("volare" means "to fly").

I recently saw The Godfather again, and I can't help but be reminded of the character Johnny Fontane, the pop singer of the Corleone family whose songs sound more or less like this one. The same crooning style, the same swingin' jazz accompaniment. In the film, Johnny gets the leading role in a big Hollywood movie after the producer wakes up one night with the severed head of his prize stallion under the covers. It's a bit of dramatic flair from Mario Puzo and Francis Ford Coppola, but you gotta wonder. You gotta wonder.

Anyway, teen idol Bobby Rydell hit the top ten with his English-language version in 1960, two summers later. It's given a more "rock" treatment, but somehow it ends up being campier than the original.

C+