Teen Angel

February 1960

Our next tragic love ballad is a one-hit wonder by Mark Dinning that took the #1 spot for 2 weeks.

The first two months of #1 singles in 1960 have got to be the most morbid in the entire timeline. First, a ranchero gets tangled up in a deadly love affair in Mexico. Then two American Indian lovers are swept away together by a raging river. Now, it's the most realistic one yet: it involves a high school class ring, a train, and two teenage sweethearts just like you, kids! (Never mind that Dinning was 26 when he recorded the track.)

The song was allegedly controversial at the time, and that's understandable, especially in the socially conservative climate of 50 years ago. Not only does it feature a 16-year-old girl getting hit by a train, but the lyrics are fairly direct. It doesn't hide behind ambiguous hinting – we witness the girl's death and then we see the ring clutched in her cold, dead fingers. (Okay, I added the "cold, dead" part, but still.) I myself am mildly offended by the song, not because of its violence, but because of the stupidity it promotes. Running back into a car that's about to get hit by a train? Really? Just for a ring? She deserved everything she got, I say.

Tragedy has been popular ever since drama has existed, and musical tragedy has been around ever since opera existed. The first fully surviving opera (or at least the first well-known one) is Claudio Monteverdi's L'Orfeo from 1607. It tells the Ancient Greek tale of Orpheus, who followed his dead lover into the underworld and successfully bargained with Hades himself, only to lose her again forever in an act of similar stupidity. Fast forward to the 2oth century, and what are the most popular operas? The death-filled tragedies of Puccini. In the world of popular music, such themes were clearly common as well.

Quick, name a movie where nobody dies. Not a comedy, or a kids movie. But even there you'll find deaths-a-plenty. People love reenacting death. It, along with its partner, love, are the cornerstones of drama. Story-songs are out of vogue these days, so teen tragedies seem to be a thing of the past. But given our human race's fixation on the subject of dying, I fully expect the genre to strike again. It's impossible to predict what form it will take, but you heard it here first.

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Running Bear

January–February 1960

If, for some reason, you were not aware that the racial climate in America has changed since before the civil rights movement, then I suppose this song by Johnny Preston will suffice to enlighten you. It enjoyed 3 weeks at #1:



"Running Bear" is, needless to say, extremely racist, and to modern listeners it can only be heard as, well, a sign of the times. The song was written by the Big Bopper (who died about a year ago in our timeline), and indeed, it kind of sounds like something he would have released on a B-side. The story itself is fairly innocuous - a sort of Romeo and Juliet-esque love tragedy. But of course the whole thing is backed by that "hum-da-hum-da" chanting, and I am reminded of the scene in Peter Pan that Disney has all but disowned ("Squaw no dance! Squaw get 'em firewood!").

I think it's important to distinguish between two different kinds of racism; that which is hateful, and that which is merely ignorant. Peter Pan and Johnny Preston are guilty of the latter. Not that I'm excusing it, though – White Americans dressing up in feather headdresses and chanting is such a grotesque parody of American Indian cultures, it's sort of unbelievable that it was so acceptable in the mainstream. I come from a generation where it was never okay to do this kind of thing, and although it doesn't directly offend me, I understand why it's upsetting to people. It's particularly insidious, I think, when it's American Indians that are being lampooned, since the European settlers all but eradicated them from existence and reduced those that remained to lives of poverty. Then to have some kind of pretense of understanding anything about their various cultures, let alone to make fun of them – it seems to me to be very mean-spirited.

Even on a story level, "Running Bear" doesn't make much sense. If they are separated by an uncrossable river, then how did they fall in love in the first place? I don't often find myself feeling deep passion for women I see hundreds of yards away.

And so soon after "El Paso" – what is it with tragic love stories in the hits of 1960? Strangely enough, the streak actually continues with the next one...

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El Paso

January 1960

First entry for the 60s, and we're off to a great start. It's "El Paso," written and sung by Marty Robbins, who was a massively popular country musician. He had a whopping 16 #1 singles on the country charts, but only 1 on the pop charts – this gripping story-song.

Man, I just love everything about this song. The archetypal story of love and tragic death, the odd way the rhythm is counted, the Spanish-flavored lead guitar, the lush harmonies. It is surely a classic, although I'd never heard of it before I researched it for this blog.

The story itself is one we've heard a thousand times. The narrator falls in love with a girl (as he tells us quite plainly in the first line), she's stolen away by another suitor, he kills his rival in a duel, and finally he himself is slayed in return – after a chase, of course. The same plot, or a variation of it, has been used so many times in plays, grand operas, ballads, and movies, that it's practically a basic part of our cultural consciousness. And the reason it endures is that it works so well, so often. Here it happens to be in the context of the Western genre, which so often draws upon these basic, primal themes. It's certainly not the first or the last time this story arc would be associated with the American West and Mexico – even Bob Dylan used it in his "Romance in Durango," which I'd bet is a direct tribute to this song. Actually, it just so happens I'm currently in the middle of Cormac McCarthy's "Border" trilogy (I just started the third book), and so these days the Wild West is on my mind more than usual. And it's hard not to see the parallels between those contemporary Western novels and the stories of old that are typified in country songs like "El Paso."

Not to turn this into a personal diary, but I myself am in the midst of a sort of love tragedy, or at least that's how I'd like to think of it – one in which situational and societal circumstances may prove the downfall of a hopeful romance. And in a foreign land, no less! Perhaps that's why I'm especially attracted to this particular song – but probably not. This is the kind of song I think I'd appreciate just about any time. Regardless of my personal situations, I'm always drawn to these sort of grand, sweeping archetypal gestures in art. It's just something about, I dunno, the human spirit or whatever.

My affinity for this song is (was?) apparently shared by the Grateful Dead, who made this song a recurring part of their live sets starting in the late 60s. I haven't really shopped around for different versions, but here's one from 1972. It's no surprise that they liked this song so much – they were students of American folklore as much as they were a psychedelic jam band. But their version of the song is a pretty good example of why I never really got into the Dead – the Spanish guitar in the original is replaced by Jerry Garcia's usual aimless noodling, and the overall feeling and sweep of the song is reduced to their sort of DIY aesthetic that doesn't carry nearly the same weight as the Marty Robbins version. They were a band that certainly had their moments, but I feel there's too much to sift through in each concert recording to get to the good stuff. Although guitarist Bob Weir claims the song was their "most requested number." So what do I know.

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Special Secret Bonus Post—1959 Awards

When I started this blog, I was fearing the first few years would be bogged down with too many schmaltzy, dated love ballads. And there were a few of those in 1959 (almost all of them by Frankie Avalon or the Fleetwoods), but for the most part I was pleasantly surprised. A song based on a historical battle, a song based on a German operetta, a couple of great rock and roll tracks, a couple of instrumentals – when you put 'em all together it's not a bad year at all. So here goes:

Most Weeks at #1: "Mack the Knife," with a monstrous 8 weeks at the top.

Best Song: "Stagger Lee" is a pretty easy choice for me. Lloyd Price delivers a great vocal over a great rock and roll backing band – and the story is of a cold-blooded barroom murder over a Stetson hat. What's not to like? Incidentally, since I originally posted on it, I discovered Bob Dylan's underrated 1993 album World Gone Wrong, in which he plays an assortment of old blues and folk songs, including none other than "Stagger Lee"! But as much as I love Dylan, I do prefer Lloyd Price's more spirited rendition.

Worst Song: Technically, "Christmas Don't Be Late" carried over into 1959, but since I already called it the worst song of '58, that wouldn't really be fair. Instead I'll go with "Why," continuing the tradition of the last song of the year being the worst. Maybe it's the cold weather?

Most Surprising Song: Gonna have to go with "The Battle of New Orleans." As if a nationalistic song about the War of 1812 weren't odd enough on our list, it went ahead and stayed at the top for an alarming 6 weeks. I still can't figure out why this was so darn popular.

And that just about does it! See you in the 60s.

December 1959 - Why

Our friend Frankie Avalon joins us again for the last #1 hit of the 1950s (and mercifully, the last of his career). It's called "Why," it topped the chart for only one week, and it goes like this:



It's hard to find much redeeming value in the song, besides the obligatory "why... was this a hit" snide comment. But here's one way to enjoy it: when the female singer comes in for her two lines in the second verse, pretend it's Avalon doing a falsetto "woman" voice. Way funnier that way.

What is it about this song that's so... lame? Well, I guess it really doesn't have any emotion or dynamics whatsoever. It's a happy love song, a man extolling the mutual love he shares with his significant other. But wait – it isn't really that happy, is it? It's more... content. Here, this is what a happy song sounds like. Listen to a couple minutes of "Keep On Growing" and then flip back to "Why" and you'll see what I mean. Frankie Avalon says a lot of things about "love" and "forever," but he kinda sounds like he doesn't give a shit. But it's hard to blame him – even Marvin Gaye himself probably couldn't have done anything with that insipid backing music behind him.

But wait, you say. What about that feeling of quiet content that we can sometimes feel when thinking of a loved one – can that not be captured in song? Are the more violent and passionate emotions the only ones suited to the format of popular music? Well, I guess it depends on whom you ask. But I'll go with: no, it probably can't. And yes, they probably are.

And with that, we conclude the brief year-and-a-half period that our timeline extends into the 50s. Ahead lie the 60s – a decade more mythologized than any other, but in which the sounds and attitudes of popular music become much more palatable to our 21st century tastes. But let's not get too far ahead of ourselves – first there's the early 60s. Not too much different from 1959, really.

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Heartaches by the Number

December 1959

Haven't updated in a while, as I was on a trip around the northeast provinces of China - take a look at my pictures here. But now I'm back, and it's back to business! We'd left off at Guy Mitchell's 2-week #1 hit, "Heartaches by the Number." It's a very corny song of unrequited love, without much going for it other than a counting gimmick.



The counting thing is mostly the fare of children's songs, and maybe that's why I'm writing this song off as a dated curiosity. However, I'm sure there are plenty of great songs that use a counting rubric as their structure – Shel Silverstein's "25 Minutes to Go," famously performed by Johnny Cash, comes to mind – but "Heartaches" comes off as pretty lame, especially considering he only makes it to 3. Come on, only three heartaches? Hardly enough to merit being listed "by the number."

My opinion on this song improved a little bit when I discovered an earlier, superior country version by Ray Price. It's funny how that used to happen – a hit song is remade less than a year later, and becomes a hit again for another singer. This isn't all that uncommon when we're talking about popular music from 50 years ago, but I can't think of a modern example (if anyone can, speak up). Like if next week Lady Gaga came out with a cover of "I Gotta Feeling," would it even have a chance at charting? Today's pop culture moves too quickly. A song that's one year old might as well be 20 years old. (God forbid!) Think of the viral clips that were circulating last year. Can you even remember any? Hell, "Epic Beard Man" is already old hat, and it's hardly 2 weeks old.

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