Duke of Earl

February–March 1962

Being that I am a child of the 90s, Gene Chandler's "Duke of Earl" was originally known to me thus:

Like it or not, the Cypress Hill track is one of the defining rap songs of that decade, and it's a great sample in my opinion, even though Chandler's song title gets clipped and looped in the middle of the second word.

As for the original hit: it's another example of a song where the backing vocals are more recognizable than the lead singing, due to that distinctive doo-wop bass voice (cf. "Blue Moon").

Other than that, well... it's a pretty cool old song. Chandler based his whole persona on the concept of "Duke of Earl" (he never had another top ten hit), and here he is in full garb:

I'm not sure how well this was known to our friends across the pond, but they must have thought it was bloody silly—is he a duke or an earl? Whichever he may be, he certainly isn't a web designer; his website rivals Joey Dee's for looking like it was designed by a high schooler in 1999. I'm surprised it doesn't end in "tripod.com."

B+

Peppermint Twist

January–February 1962

Most of January is moot to us since it's taken up both by the Tokens hit carrying over from last year; and Chubby Checker's "The Twist," which hit #1 again on a second chart run (the only song to ever do this). When will the Twist die? It's pretty wild that a song could have such staying power to top the chart twice, almost 2 years apart.

And of course, even though we're finally done with Chubby Checker, we're not done with the Twist. The song spawned countless imitators, and it was inevitable that one of them would crop up on our list—and here it is. It's called "Peppermint Twist," and it's performed by Joey Dee and the Starliters. (Technically, it's listed as "Peppermint Twist—Part 1;" the flip side of the record is a rarely heard instrumental "Part 2" of the song.)

That's Mr. Dee on the left—the one with the huge head (hilariously, a good portion of the Youtube comments center around this aspect of his anatomy). One thing I notice is that choreographed dancing in pop music was much rougher and less tightened than it would become in the next few decades. They don't seem to be fully synchronized with each other. Watch a Backstreet Boys performance and you'll see what I mean. Aside from that, I'd say they get some kudos for being a racially desegregated musical group in 1962, although the blacks are mostly relegated to the back (or even offstage—where's the saxophone player?).

But let's talk about the song. Pretty bland, eh? I definitely got nothing against the Twist—I rated the original version as one of the best entries of 1960—but there's a serious lack of originality here. Also, compared to Chubby Checker's enthusiastic rendition, this seems downright lackadaisical, both in terms of performance (they don't seem all that excited about it) and production (the infectious "whomp" of the original is totally absent). But, it apparently worked well enough to hit #1 for 3 weeks, no small feat.

And did you notice those last 30 seconds or so? Sound familiar? That's right, it's the coda lifted right out of the Isley Brothers' "Shout." I think this kind of thing was seen as more permissible in those days. Today you'd never get away with something like that—you'd get sued to high heaven.

Now, if you were a totally unoriginal group with this hit song, what would you do for a follow-up single? Not unpredictably, their next (and last big) hit was none other than a cover of "Shout," which hit the top ten later the same year.

It doesn't even seem fair to compare this to the more famous version. The Isleys' fiery performance threatens to bring the house down; Joey Dee and the Starliters attempt to drum up some excitement by playing the song even faster than the original, but it fails.

One more thing for your amusement: Joey Dee's official website, which looks like it hasn't been updated since 1995, is a rather hilarious thing. Play the video on the front page for the full experience.

C-

Special Secret Bonus Post—1961 Awards

It's that time of year again. 1961 had its highs and lows; there was some really great stuff in there, as well as some complete garbage, but that's what I'm learning to expect at this point. The biggest hits of the year were by Burt Kaempfert, Chubby Checker, the Marcels, Del Shannon, Bobby Vee, Jimmy Dean, and the Tokens; with the biggest of all being "Tossin' and Turnin'" by Bobby Lewis, spending 7 weeks at the top.

This year saw its share of one-hit wonders, like Ernie K-Doe and Joe Dowell, as well as early successes that made superstars of their singers, like Roy Orbison and Dion. Here are my awards:

Best Song: I really loved a lot of the songs this year. I was particularly impressed by some of the great rock and roll tracks that made it big; "Tossin' and Turnin'," "Quarter to Three," and "Runaround Sue" are all terrific and exciting songs whose effect hasn't worn off in the least. But, for my money, I'll take The Shirelles' "Will You Love Me Tomorrow." It is, for all intents and purposes, a perfect pop song. Its writing, arrangement, and performance are flawlessly executed—it's a tour de force of the girl-group genre.

Worst Song: For this award, I easily narrowed it down to just 2 songs—the only 2 this year to receive a score of F—Bert Kaempfert's "Wonderland by Night," and Lawrence Welk's "Calcutta." The songs are similar in that they are both instrumentals in the blossoming "easy listening" genre of the 60s. However, since I actually like Leo Kottke's cover version of the Kaempfert hit, I'll have to pick "Calcutta", which is a particularly egregious example of how low popular music can sink.

Song With the Curiousest History: Several of this year's hits were covers, but the Tokens' "The Lion Sleeps Tonight" goes back to Africa in the 30s, and in my entry, I included no less than 4 versions that are each notable in their own right—not counting the numerous other cover versions over the years.

Most Blatantly Unoriginal Song: Chubby Checker may not have invented "The Twist," but he was certainly on to something when he made it an international sensation. However, it soon became obvious that he didn't know how to do anything else, as each of his subsequent songs were attempts (some more successful than others) at creating a dance craze, essentially ripping himself off again and again. "Pony Time" is just one of the many that he cranked out. (Joe Dowell's "Wooden Heart" would be a runner-up in this category.)

Most Hypocritical Song: It may not have seemed so at the time, but when Dion hit it big with "Runaround Sue," he was decrying the very same promiscuity he himself would later admit to in "The Wanderer." The nerve!

Most Offensive White Appropriation of Black Music: Mainstream audiences generally like things sanitized for their consumption. "The Lion Sleeps Tonight" was certainly guilty of this, retaining very little of the spirit present in the original "Mbube." However, it's still a pretty good song, so it gets a pass in favor of the much blander "Michael" by the Highwaymen. This one is especially bad considering their follow-up hit, "Cotton Fields," which is literally about picking cotton, something these sheltered college boys surely knew so much about.

That's about it, folks. 1962 lies ahead, another year with 19 fresh songs to chronicle. I can't wait!

The Lion Sleeps Tonight

December 1961–January 1962

The Evolution of a Song

Here's a tune called "Mbube" by the Zulu South African singer Solomon Linda. In the 40s, it was a hit among black audiences in that country.

Sound familiar? That's because you (and I both) know it in a pretty different version. But I must say I was pretty taken with this old song when I first heard it just now. I can't be sure how much of the lyrics are actually in the Zulu language and how much are just nonsense (I'm out of practice in African linguistics), but it doesn't really matter; the song is infectious, due in no small part to the underlying "wimoweh" chant. Apparently, Pete Seeger felt the same way when he heard it—he recorded an adapted version with his group, The Weavers, and it became a top ten hit in the United States in the 50s. Seeger and co. were known for adapting folk songs, but mostly those of American origin. A tune from another culture wasn't too far of a leap, though, and this one fit right in with their repertoire, under the name (appropriately) "Wimoweh."

It sounds pretty silly, these white college boys imitating an African chant. But it's good fun, and they seem to be just having a whale of a time. Obviously, whatever meaning the original lyrics may have had is lost, but nobody hearing it is going to be able to tell the difference.

But it wasn't until 1961, the present year in our chronology, that the song was transformed into its most well-known form, and a huge sensation. A new arrangement was commissioned by the RCA company, and, among other things, the most crucial component was added—the lyrics. The group hired to perform the song was the unknown doo-wop group The Tokens, who took on the task with relish.

I'm not going to lie—I'm a little torn on this one. As in the Weavers' version, the affectation of African chant is extremely silly, and borders on parody. I could understand if someone were offended by this. But I can't help but enjoy the song. It's just really good—totally unique in the history of pop music, and relentlessly catchy. I don't blame the American public at all for rocketing this one to #1, leaving it at the top spot for 3 weeks.

The song has certainly been adapted plenty of times, too. Among the most successful versions is a later 1972 top-ten by the singer Robert John; however, in my view, it isn't different enough from the more famous version to warrant much attention. Simply put, the Tokens did it better.

A much more interesting cover appeared in 1982, by the British group Tight Fit. A delightfully 80s backbeat turns the song from a clever novelty to a propulsive dance track. The record was huge in the United Kingdom, hitting #1 there (but not charting at all in the States).

Maybe it's because it's closer to the age I grew up in, but that might actually be my favorite version of the song. It's either that or the original Solomon Linda version—they are so different that it seems useless to evaluate them against each other. This entry was one of the more fun ones to write recently, since the song has such a long and curious history; also helpful is the fact that it's just a plain good song, so I didn't mind listening to so many different interpretations of it. The rating, of course, is only for the Tokens version, the very reason why I'm writing about this in the first place.

B+

Please Mr. Postman

December 1961

1961 is soon coming to a close. Our next song, the penultimate one, is this hit by the Motown group The Marvelettes, notable for being the very first #1 hit by the famous Detroit record label (although it's not the first girl group entry – that would be "Will You Love Me Tomorrow").

Considering the song's continuing popularity (or maybe because of it), I can't think of much to say about it. It's a nice, original concept for a song, but it's certainly not among my favorites of the girl group genre. In fact, I am guilty of preferring the Beatles' version, a sacrilege to purists, I'm sure.

The Marvelettes themselves were not one of the more successful Motown artists, having only 3 major hits, "Postman" being their first and biggest. The song was predictably rewritten for next year's "Playboy," and it wasn't until 1966 that they scored their last top-ten, "Don't Mess With Bill." That last one is my favorite of the 3 songs by far; its cool, funky sound demonstrates how much the genre had developed in five years.

Some may appreciate the rawer, less polished sound of "Please Mr. Postman," and I'm not saying I don't like it. Maybe it's just that my opinion has been jaded from overexposure to the song.

B

Big Bad John

November–December 1961

Unless you're old enough to remember this song, you probably identify Jimmy Dean not with country music, but with this:

But in fact Dean, who died last summer, was a very successful country singer, and "Big Bad John" was his breakthrough hit, as well as one of the most popular songs of the year, holding an impressive 5 weeks at #1. It tells the story of the eponymous John, who it turns out isn't really "bad" at all, although he is indeed big; he uses his legendary strength to rescue a group of trapped miners, only to be killed himself when the mine collapses. It plays as a sort of American "tall-tale" story, not unlike Paul Bunyan or John Henry.

It is, in fact, a "talking song," a genre which I don't believe we have encountered yet in this project. We've discussed the talking verse in "Are You Lonesome Tonight?" but this is sort of a separate category. Country and folk music have their roots in storytelling, and this kind of song does that in the most direct way: by simply telling the story (in verse, of course). Dean's voice is appropriately deep and grave for the tale, although to modern ears, the whole thing seems hopelessly dated.

One approach to the talking song which has survived better, I think, is infusing it with comedy, as Bob Dylan was wont to do, as in this very amusing early performance:

This is rooted in the same folk tradition as "Big Bad John" – Dylan's near-worship of Woody Guthrie is well documented – but Dylan's unwillingness to take himself seriously is what gives it its real charm and staying power. Dean's approach, while somewhat convincing, is too plain to have any real value besides historical curiosity. Perhaps the talking song will make a comeback someday, but it doesn't seem likely, in the near future, anyway.

Jimmy Dean continued to have success into the 70s in the country charts, but in terms of crossover appeal, he only had this song and a nationalistic 1962 top-ten "PT-109." I wonder if his sausages are any good?

C+