Running Scared

June 1961

On the surface, Roy Orbison's singing voice sounds kinda like Elvis. It has a similarly confident vibrato, as well as the remarkable ability to sound "deep" even when firmly in the tenor range. His early material sits comfortably in this model, riding on the coattails of Presley's success – indeed, he was signed to Sun Records, the same label as not only Elvis but Carl Perkins as well. His minor early hit "Ooby Dooby" from 1956 is a competent, if not terribly exciting exercise in the genre. Throughout the rest of the 50s, he produced a number of these songs, finally scoring another minor hit in 1959 with "Uptown." It's in a similar boogie-woogie type vein. Understandably, history has mostly forgotten these early singles.

But what Orbison had in store was something entirely different. In his 1960 breakthrough hit, "Only the Lonely," he easily distinguishes himself from the competition by taking his rich, full voice to brave new heights. It's so much more than just a verse-chorus-verse pop song; backed by a string section, it's an elaborate mini-epic, punctuated by orchestra hits and soaring high notes. In the midst of so many banal popular songs of the day, it was purely sensational. Orbison is listed as co-author, along with songwriter Joe Melson – the team would produce a number of his most well-known songs. The songs were finally robust enough to support the full range of Orbison's singing voice.

But wait – this isn't about "Only the Lonely," because that peaked at a mere #2 on the charts. His next two lesser hits were "Blue Angel" and "I'm Hurtin'," which are in a similar vein as his breakthrough, but not quite as strong. Still, they are worth a listen – it's the sound of a struggling artist finally coming into his own.

And then, in 1961, he made it to #1 with "Running Scared," another Melson collaboration. The song is a complete singularity in early 60s popular music, unlike anything else that existed at the time. For one thing, it's flat-out undanceable – the drum beat doesn't even enter until three fourths of the way into the track. Instead, it's a song that tells a complete (albeit short) story. In just over two minutes, we identify with the protagonist, learn about the characters' history, and it all comes rushing together in a brilliant climax. I love when a pop song is brave enough to break all the rules, and yet it still becomes successful against all the odds – and this is a perfect example. It's a fine and dignified first #1 for Roy Orbison, but the story doesn't end here, because he's got another one coming up in a few years.

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Travelin' Man

May–June 1961

As you may have noticed, one thing men love to do (in each other's company, at least) is brag about sleeping with women. It's a perennial topic of discussion at the bar, the ball game, or the Sunday poker session. So it's only natural that songs have been written on the subject – a famous example from this era is Dion's "The Wanderer." Ricky Nelson's "Travelin' Man" takes that sentiment one step further by combining it with the classic blues archetype of being on the run, never settling down. Together, it's sort of the ultimate exaggeration of the masculine ideal (certainly, you don't hear many songs by women about this kind of lifestyle).

The Grooveshark widget creator seems to be broken at the moment, so you can listen to the songs on the site here.

In the short three years between "Poor Little Fool" and this song, Nelson remained extremely popular, producing 12 more top 40 hits, half of which were top 10. Most memorable among these are the heartbreak ballad "Lonesome Town," the campy "It's Late," and the upbeat, Elvis-esque "Just a Little Too Much." Soon after, though, he seems to get stuck in a creative rut before petering out in about 1963. His three most prominent hits of '62 – "Young World," "Teen Age Idol," and "It's Up to You" – are all based on the exact same beat as "Travelin' Man." Go ahead, sample the first couple bars of all 4 songs in succession, and you'll see what I mean. It's like he just stopped trying. 1963 only saw one major hit, the decent "For You," and then he pretty much faded away.

A funny thing happened, though. After Nelson had been out of the popular sphere for a few years, he sort of reinvented himself playing country-rock with the Stone Canyon Band. He would never again achieve his earlier level of success, but arguably his later sound was much more mature and it certainly sounds a lot less dated to modern ears. Of particular interest (for me, at least) are a couple of Bob Dylan covers recorded during this period, here and here. I must say, I quite like these versions, especially the latter.

I like the fact that he stopped being so popular (except for one fluke top 10 hit in 1972, "Garden Party," which apparently tells the story of a time he was booed off stage at Madison Square Garden), and yet he continued to mature as a musician. It's like he has a secret canon hidden beneath the surface.

He died an untimely death in a 1985 plane crash, at the age of 45.

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