The Popular Song.

Duke of Earl

2011-02-20T09:08:00.000-08:00

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

2011-02-13T07:50:00.000-08:00

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

2011-02-12T09:53:00.000-08:00

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

2011-02-11T14:46:00.000-08:00

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

2011-02-05T09:45:00.000-08:00

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.

Big Bad John

2011-02-02T12:16:00.000-08:00

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+

Runaround Sue

2011-01-29T15:00:00.000-08:00

October 1961

A lot of these old songs that were once huge hits are now almost completely forgotten. But here we've had a few in a row which are still staples of oldies stations. Dion's "Runaround Sue" continues in that category.

And it certainly deserves it – it's a terrific song. After a portentous opening in which Dion declares that the girl he once loved started running around "with every single guy in town" (either it's a very small town or this is some world-class promiscuity), the song launches into a screaming tale of heartbreak and rock and roll vitriol. It's a classic song topic – man has been cheated on and is now very upset – but it's done with such conviction here that it's a resounding success, mostly thanks to Dion's powerful and charismatic singing voice.

Dion's follow-up single, "The Wanderer," was nearly as popular, and I'm sure I'm not the first one to notice the irony in the two songs' messages.

In "Sue," he so eloquently decries his ex for having the very same quality he would later champion in himself. I must admit, there's a certain charm to the sheer bravado that would inspire him to commit such a blatant hypocrisy, even though the song isn't quite the tour de force that the previous one is.

In fact, the more I listen to Dion's various hits, the more I like the guy. He produced a whopping 10 top ten singles between 1959 and 1963, and they are nearly all quite good. For a short list of the best, I'd pick the early charmer "Teenager in Love;" the gloomy, kazoo-featuring "Little Diane;" and the bluesy "Ruby Baby." For a pop singer, he's displayed considerable versatility. Before doing this entry, I'd more or less written him off as a campy 60s relic, and I'm glad I had the chance to change that opinion.

Dion made a moderately successful attempt to reinvent himself as a hippie folk singer in the late 60s. This culminated in "Abraham, Martin and John," a song in remembrance of Lincoln, King, and Kennedy, respectively, which was the last commercial success of his career. What could have easily been trite is actually well done and it comes across as pretty honest. However, my favorite song from this period of Dion is a hilariously misguided cover of Jimi Hendrix's "Purple Haze." It must be heard to be believed:

That nonsense aside, this entry has been a pleasant surprise. A bunch of these songs are worth knowing, even though "Runaround Sue" remains the biggest success of Dion's career and his defining song.

Hit the Road Jack

2011-01-23T11:52:00.000-08:00

October 1961

And so we return to Ray Charles. His previous chart-topper was a strings-drenched ballad, but here he strikes it big with an upbeat R&B number; the kind that made him who he was. I would say this song should be recognizable to just about anyone, or any American at least.

One thing that I like about Charles's style is that he has a propensity for interacting with his backup singers, rather than the more traditional approach of simply having them, well, back you up. I'm thinking also of his tour de force "What'd I Say," where he banters back and forth with his singers, to create a risqué sexual exchange. Here, Ray is the eponymous "Jack," and it's his backups who are telling him to get the hell out. He can only plead for mercy to this faceless and unforgiving woman – having the part sung by several women instead of only one serves to make Charles seem even more helpless. It's a neat trick, and it makes the short song a fairly effective mini-drama. Ultimately, we can't help but to side with "Jack;" this is clinched when we hear his sly spoken appeals at the very end.

It seems that for every cherished Ray Charles classic, there's a few missteps that haven't lasted quite as well. Take for example "Ruby," which was released around the same time as "Jack," and was top 10 on the R&B charts. It hasn't really stood the test of time. But his other smash success from this year, a brassy instrumental version of "One Mint Julep," is pretty well done in my opinion.

So this post covers a fairly brief portion of Ray Charles's career – that's because we're not quite done with him yet. He'll be back again next year. Until then, "Hit the Road Jack" will do just fine.

A-

Take Good Care of My Baby

2011-01-22T11:57:00.000-08:00

September–October 1961

It seems we have a perennial affection for teenage singers. Miley Cyrus and Justin Bieber today are simply the current iterations in a trend that goes back for decades. And so we come to Bobby Vee, who was only 18 when he had his only #1 hit, "Take Good Care of My Baby." Who could resist those boyish charms?

The song is one of several highly successful hits written by Carole King and Gerry Goffin, before King became well-known as a performer (they also brought us "Will You Love Me Tomorrow," and they're not done yet on this blog). The young singer, Bobby Vee, is not really much more than a vehicle for the song, which is really quite charming. But what can you expect from such a young teen idol? He gets the job done reasonably well.

Although he's not exactly well-known today, Vee was very successful at the time. "Take Good Care of My Baby" was one of five top 10 hits he released between 1960 and 1962 – aged 17 to 19. Most of the others aren't too exciting to today's ears, though. One is a blatant ripoff of the song "Earth Angel," and another is a lame Buddy Holly impersonation. Let's just say the guy didn't have a unique artistic vision all his own. But the last big hit of his teenage years, "The Night Has a Thousand Eyes," is quite good. I dare say it might be my favorite Bobby Vee song.

Like so many teen performers, his success didn't really depend on his own talent, but on the people around him that were involved in the production of his music. The upshot of this is that his fame didn't last long. He managed to eke out one last top 10, in 1967, at the ripe old age of 24. It's fairly mediocre, and it was his last whiff of real success. He turned out to be just one more disposable teenage face, crooning on the radio. America quickly lost interest, but at least "Take Good Care of My Baby" has had some lasting resonance, thanks to its sharp songwriting.

Michael

2011-01-21T13:27:00.000-08:00

September 1961

Next up is an adaptation of a black American spiritual that should be familiar to damn near everyone. It's "Michael Row the Boat Ashore" and it's sort of a campfire classic, I guess. Easy as pie to play and sing, and it always seems to come out pretty well. The subject of this entry is the Highwaymen's version, which I'd say is probably the most well-known recording of the song:

This is pretty typical of popular music of the 20th century: music borrowed from black culture, then whitified for the masses. That was apparently the modus operandi of this group – here's their other major hit from the following year, an adaptation of a Leadbelly song:

It just doesn't sound quite right coming out of the mouths of these preppy white college boys. But the American populace ate this stuff right up. Just look at the major popular trend of the first half of the century: jazz. The revolutionary music genre was codified by black Americans, but generally the most successful music of the time was produced by whites in a much more toned-down, easy listening style. It's what the people want.

Not that this song, in this version, is all that bad. Actually, it's all right by me. I'd say it's such an innately good song that it would be pretty hard to screw up. It's catchy without being annoying; a perfect balance. And the Highwaymen's reading of it is pretty straightforward. They don't do anything outlandish with it. It works.

B-

Wooden Heart (Muss I Denn)

2011-01-17T11:32:00.000-08:00

August 1961

One of Elvis Presley's innumerable films was a flick called G.I. Blues, some of which was actually filmed on location in Germany during his stint in the Army. It was released in 1960, soon after Presley returned to civilian life, and it contained a charming, if insubstantial, little ditty called "Wooden Heart."

As you'll notice, the second half of the song is in German, apparently adapted from a Swabian folk song. Our old friend Bert Kaempfert is even listed as a co-writer.

But wait!

This post is not about Elvis at all. His recording of the song was successful in Europe, but was not even released in the United States until far after the fact. Hence, it certainly did not become a #1 single stateside. So why am I even mentioning it, then? Well, because of a highly successful cover version which did hit the #1 spot, sung by this flat-topped doof:

Wrong choice, America. Not that the song was so great to begin with, but Dowell strips any of the charm the original may have had right away. Instead, it's a saccharine clone of all the other easy-listening schlock out there. His German accent is slightly better than Elvis's, and that's probably the only (faint) praise I can muster. Probably the best thing this guy ever did was to promptly go away – he never made the top 10 again, only scoring two other minor hits, including the insipid "Little Red Rented Rowboat." I've got to say, 1961 has been probably the best year so far for this project, but this sure isn't helping.

Tossin' and Turnin'

2011-01-16T10:37:00.000-08:00

July–August 1961

1961 has had a lot of rock and roll so far. It's a welcome development in my opinion, and the trend continues with this terrific number by Bobby Lewis, which spent a formidable 7 weeks at the top, making it the most successful single of the year.

Who ever thought insomnia could be so much fun? When you think about it, the topic of the song doesn't really fit the tone of it at all. He's so distressed by his lady that he's losing sleep at night; and yet the song itself is a rollicking good time, upbeat, and catchy as sin to boot. But somehow you don't even notice this glaring inconsistency until you slow down to think about it. For whatever reason, it plainly works. I suppose part of the appeal is that it takes a bad experience that practically everyone has had, and makes it sound like a party. How could you resist?

The runaway success of the song is a little strange in retrospect, considering that Lewis almost immediately fell out of the public eye completely. One-hit wonders make it to the weekly #1 spot all the time, but rarely do they score the #1 single of the year. Besides the inevitable, less successful follow-up single ("One Track Mind"), he never made another hit for the rest of his life. The guy is still alive (he's 76), and you've got to wonder what he does with himself. Well, I suppose he can rest easy knowing that he recorded more #1 singles than most of us have. One, to be exact; but boy, was it a good one.

Quarter to Three

2011-01-15T12:47:00.000-08:00

June–July 1961

The story goes that Gary Anderson changed his last name to "U.S. Bonds" so that radio stations might mistake his records for government bond advertisements. Whether or not that's true, he ended up getting some attention anyhow, and he's fondly remembered today as that guy who sang "Quarter to Three."

You've got to love that early rock and roll sound, and I'm always glad to see this kind of thing turn up on our list – it's a welcome relief from some of the schmaltzier things that were around 50 years ago. Bonds and his group stir up an atmosphere of real, genuine excitement and fun, which is something that I think is harder than it appears. Just because the musicians are having fun doesn't mean that feeling will necessarily make it onto the final product, and believe me, I know. There have been times where I've had a blast in some jam session, but then later been disappointed by the recording. It's easy to assume that since those guys up there on the stage are having a great time, it's only natural that their music is so effective; but it takes more than just exuberance to make a great rock and roll performance. You've got to have talent (obviously), but also a group synergy that takes time to hone. Whatever it is, Bonds & co. have got it in spades.

Correct me if I'm wrong, but it's my impression that Bonds is remembered as a one-hit wonder; although actually he had 4 other top ten hits from 1960-62. The few that followed "Quarter to Three" are disappointing; the formula is the same but the energy is largely absent. However, the year before "Quarter" he broke into the charts with a track called "New Orleans" which I quite like:

It doesn't have the raucous attitude that made his biggest hit so distinctive, but it's a solid early rock song. Unfortunately, the guy doesn't seem to have enough material to make a "Best of Gary U.S. Bonds" record worth it. He actually ended up breaking back into the mainstream in the early 80s with a few singles, one of which nearly broke the top ten. However, they are quite uninteresting and not worth your time. "Quarter to Three," on the other hand, is a classic, and rightly so. I'm happy to have it.

Moody River

2011-01-13T13:54:00.000-08:00

June 1961

Well, it's been quite a hiatus. Being busy with school and work and things, I haven't updated the ol' blog in a while. But I've always said you've got to finish what you started (actually I've never said that), and so here goes nothin'. I'm sure you're excited to know that Pat Boone is next up. Now, as a member of what might be called Generation Y, my introduction to the singer was this:

Not exactly representative of his style, you might say. But maybe it's more typical than it seems on the surface. Let's consider it: it's a clearly bored Pat Boone in the studio croaking out some song for a handful of money. Is that so different from "classic" Boone? Hasn't he always been a shill?

Boone had a number of very successful songs starting in 1955 (before this project's timeframe). After sampling a few of them, I started to wonder: how did this guy get famous in the first place? He must have made friends with the right people. His voice is just not very good. You could say it was his boyish charms, but come on, lots of other guys had those in spades. I am simply confounded. Most of his songs are simply boring – not particularly offensive, but certainly not exceptional at all. But one song in particular, "I Almost Lost My Mind" from 1956, practically had me laughing out loud at the sheer badness of this man's singing voice. Observe, Pat Boone in all his glory:

What this guy needs is a great, well-written song to hide the shittiness of his talent. Oh! Speak of the devil! The subject of this post, "Moody River," fits that description exactly! It's his only number one hit during the Hot 100 era, so it's the only one I'll have to cover (dodged a few bullets there). But I'll be damned if it isn't a very listenable, country, soft-rock-y sort of thing. It even has the tragic death of a lover, such a popular theme in this era's hits – you'll remember the first few entries of 1960. I think I'll go so far as to call it a... good song!

Okay. I can stop listening to Pat Boone now, right?

B-

Running Scared

2010-10-21T11:19:00.000-07:00

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.

A-

Travelin' Man

2010-10-18T12:36:00.000-07:00

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.

Mother-in-Law

2010-09-09T09:45:00.000-07:00

May 1961

I'm sure most every American should know this next one; I remember it being a staple of oldies radio when I was growing up. But I betcha can't name the singer!

That's right, it's the legendary Ernie K-Doe, famous for such hits as "Mother-in-Law," and uh... well... yeah, he's the very definition of a one-hit wonder. But where most OHWs tend to be annoying novelty songs, this one's pretty rockin' and I like it. He's not exactly probing the depths of the human spirit, but it's a fun and unique idea for a song, and I'm glad we have it.

What is it about the mother-in-law stereotype that is so enduring? Are mothers-in-law really so problematic? I've never been married, so I can't say I've had any personal experience. I suppose all parents want the best for their children, and some can be overly critical of their kid's spouse. But the lyrics here paint a quite literally demonic picture of her: "Satan should be her name/To me they're about the same." I can't help but think ol' Ernie could be doing more to accept his new family member.

His Wikipedia article states: "In the 1990s K-Doe began billing himself as 'The Emperor of the Universe' and, wearing a cape and crown, he became a famous local eccentric on the New Orleans scene." Keep in mind, he was a 60-year-old man in the 90s. This possibly sheds a little light on his relationship with his mother-in-law. Although this story may be an exaggeration, she may not have been so wrong to want him away from her daughter. But hey, he's the one with the song, so his side of the story is a lot more convincing.

B+

Runaway

2010-08-31T08:36:00.000-07:00

April–May 1961

A clever little song, this. I heard this a million times on the oldies stations growing up, but I always just knew it as the song where he goes "wah-wah-wah-wah." Spending four weeks at the top, it was a fairly big smash hit.

The most recognizable hook of the song is obviously the falsetto bit in the chorus – this couldn't have been a hit without it. However, as often happens to those who record such hits, Shannon was forever doomed to be that guy who does the falsetto thing. After "Runaway"'s, er, runaway success, he was undeniably goaded into attempting similar hits by his producers. You can't quite call him a one-hit wonder, because he actually had two more top-ten hits in the next few years: "Hats Off to Larry," which is a lame rewrite of "Runaway;" as well as the surprisingly good "Keep Searchin' (We'll Follow the Sun)."

And like so many other of the artists on our list, he has long since faded into obscurity, due to his inability to create more than basically one interesting thing. Oddly, he broke into the Top 40 one last time in 1981 with a terrible cover of "Sea of Love," and after that the world forgot about him. He died less than ten years later at age 55. So it goes.

A-

Blue Moon

2010-08-27T20:18:00.000-07:00

April 1961

Doo-wop group The Marcels weren't quite a one-hit wonder (they had another top-ten with "Heartaches") but they are remembered best for the insanely catchy "Blue Moon."

This song is fun because it's a re-imagining of a much sappier, older song. This wasn't uncommon in the day (cf. "Georgia on My Mind," "Smoke Gets in Your Eyes") but this is one of the coolest and most original examples, I think. Really, the only thing it has in common is the melody – The Marcels' version is much faster, it's danceable, and instead of schmaltzy strings it's got one of the most famous doo-wop vocal arrangements ever.

One of the interesting things about this song is that the backing vocals are the most recognizable part of the song – not the lead singer. The "bom buh-buh bom" refrain is what makes the song what it is. I honestly can't think of another song where this is true. Sure, it's a common feature of doo-wop to have a strong baritone to provide the bass notes, but here it's so distinctive that it's elevated to the main stage.

It's funny that with all the fame that bass hook has achieved, the same bass singer is (in my opinion) an incredible distraction during the middle eight section. The endless "doo-doo"s are pretty stupid sounding, and borderline comical. I suspect that most people hear this song without really noticing it, but for me it's unavoidable. When the main section comes back around, I'm relieved.

Well, I'd certainly like to hear this song more than once in a... okay, fine, I'll spare you.

B+

Surrender

2010-08-19T12:47:00.000-07:00

March 1961

Another goodie from Elvis, at the top of the chart for two weeks in spring.

Geez, for a song that's less than two minutes long, it's ridiculously epic sounding. It's got a crack production that results in a terribly exciting, but very short burst of pop music. I've thought of a few factors that give it this "epic"-ness.

The first is the minor key. Plenty of Elvis's blues-rock numbers are in the usual minor blues keys, but this one is in a totally different style, and that keeps it pretty dark, compared to most of the guy's stuff. The next thing is the lush orchestration: the piano, horn section, chorus, and effects-heavy, Hawaiian-esque guitar all merge to create a sort of aural storm.

And of course, the thing I'm referring to most when I label this as "epic" is those huge, pseudo-operatic crescendos - one in the middle and then again at the very end. Elvis had a larger-than-life status in his day's culture, and I think that's the reason he could get away with this sort of thing. The enormous, sweeping sound of this record fit perfectly with (and probably enhanced) his demigod persona at the time.

Also, the intro sounds like James Bond.

B+

Pony Time

2010-08-13T10:32:00.000-07:00

February–March 1961

One sure way to know that a dance craze hasn't stood the test of time – I can't find a single video on the web of someone doing the "pony." However, I'm sure that 50 years ago it wasn't too hard to find someone doing the dance, as Chubby Checker's song was #1 for three weeks.

You may have noticed that this song is exactly the same as "The Twist." Except he took out the word "twist" and replaced it with "pony." I can't say I'm thrilled about this one, especially since I have no idea what the dance even looks like. I found a description of the steps here, but I'm not about to parse through that tome and figure out what it means.

This was Checker's second and final #1 single, although he would continue to crank out Top 40 hits for the next few years. Browsing through the titles, almost all of them appear to be either attempts at starting a dance craze – "Dance the Mess Around," "The Fly," "Limbo Rock" – or extensions of the twist – "Let's Twist Again," "Slow Twistin'," "Twist It Up."

Talk about a one-trick... pony!

Oof. Sorry about that one. But really, this is the mark of someone who didn't have a lot of talent, but managed to strike it big with one lucky recording. Where someone truly talented would have continued to create new and original things, Checker merely rode out the success of "The Twist" as far as he could, until he was absolutely sure the public didn't care about him anymore. His last hit, "Let's Do the Freddie," barely scraped the Top 4o in 1965 – and I don't have to hear it to know that it's a semi-failed attempt at yet another dance craze. I'll happily acknowledge that "The Twist" is a great song, but, like so many great things, it inspired countless weak imitations.

B-

Calcutta

2010-08-08T18:39:00.000-07:00

February 1961

Lawrence Welk was some guy with a TV show that I'll never care about. His instrumental "Calcutta" was #1 for two weeks in 1961. I cannot imagine a public that would put this song at the top of the pop chart. If you own this record, YOU are responsible.

One of the problems with the format of this blog is that I am forcing myself to write an entry on each and every song that fits the category. Which means I have to come up with something meaningful to say about "Calcutta." But really, there is nothing to say. It's an existential problem for me. I'm gonna go watch TV.

Will You Love Me Tomorrow

2010-08-03T13:34:00.000-07:00

January–February 1961

How to Ruin a Great Song

An Unscientific Study

Our next song, I hope most people would agree, is a pretty rad song. It's the first of several smash hits by the girl group The Shirelles, and the first #1 by any group of that genre; it remains one of the best. Written by Carole King, it features a great, memorable melody; and lead singer Shirley Owens lends it a cool, confident air, helped in no small part by its distinctive string arrangement. This track will serve as the basis for our analysis:

This song, in particular, is notable for having an insane number of cover versions by all kinds of famous musicians. I have not the patience to listen to all of them, but of the one's I've found, they are uniformly boring (with the unsurprising exception of King's own version from her Tapestry album). There are versions of the song by the likes of Dusty Springfield, Cher, Dionne Warwick, Elton John, Joe Walsh, Neil Diamond, The Bee Gees, and countless others; there's even a hilarious version by a very young Ronnie James Dio. However, this being a blog focused on the most popular of songs, I will examine the 3 covers which made it to the top 40.

1968 - The Four Seasons

This rendition's major offenses are twofold. The first is its annoyingly busy arrangement, featuring violins, surf guitar, organ, a frantic bass guitar, and what sounds like a harpsichord. And it's almost as if the song's producers realized this, because they mixed the vocals way above the instruments, creating the effect of the Four Seasons' voices floating above a horrible, swirling chaos.

The second offense is that the harmony of the song is changed, in a forced attempt to make the version differ from the original. The result is that the song remains totally recognizable, but without the lean, economical punch of the Shirelles' version. For example, the reason that one string hook in the original (you know the one) works so well is because 1) it's the only featured instrument in that particular bar, and 2) it's simple and elegant, blending gracefully with the minimal, carefully selected chord pattern. And this is to say nothing of the song's main vocal melody.

1975 - Morningside Drive

This version is curiously unavailable online, so I have not heard it. However, it is purportedly a disco arrangement of the song. Have we really any reason to believe it doesn't completely suck?

1978 - Dave Mason

Mason, of Traffic fame, recorded this bland-as-beans cover, apparently while simultaneously doing his taxes and banging his wife. He simply does not care in the least about the song; it has a distinct "goin' through the motions" feel. The song suffers from an overly slick, late-70s pop production, and lackadaisical, non-shit-giving performances by everyone involved. Accordingly, this track has been largely banished to a far corner of history.

Conclusion

So what have we learned? The moral of the story is, don't cover a classic, time-honored song. There are very few examples of this ever succeeding in history. Unless you truly think you have some amazing new insight into it, just leave it alone. Your version will inevitably be damned by comparison to the far superior original. We will not still love it tomorrow.

A+

Wonderland by Night

2010-07-23T20:08:00.001-07:00

January 1961

Ah, time to kick off a brand new year! Let's see what we have here... aaaaaaaand it's off to a bad start. This clinker apparently sold more records than anything else for three weeks.

It's by Bert Kaempfert, a German musician who both wrote and performed it. I've already expressed my hatred of easy-listening music on this blog, so I won't go into a tirade here, but this kind of song definitely fits into the category. It's both mindless and soulless; it neither requires any effort on the part of the listener, nor does it have anything to offer. There's a word I particularly like that describes this music perfectly: "pap."

But hey, hey, wait a minute. How about this cover version? The always (well, usually) dependable guitarist Leo Kottke gives us a pretty nice rendering of the tune. I dare say, it's a pretty nice melody – not that you'd know it, judging by the hit version. This certainly isn't one of my favorite things by Kottke, but it goes to show how much performance can matter. Of course, you need both things – a good song, and a good performance – and only one or the other doesn't cut it, as demonstrated by our friend Herr Kaempfert.

In fact, Kaempfert himself will come up a couple more times in this blog, but only as a songwriter, not a performer. And that's for the better.

Special Secret Bonus Post—1960 Awards

2010-07-10T09:51:00.000-07:00

This was the best year so far, I think. We have some great stuff by Elvis, the Everly Brothers, and Ray Charles; a trilogy of teen death sagas; a dance craze that might be the most influential in recent history; and a helping of ridiculous novelty songs. Unfortunately, the song holding the #1 spot for the longest was the theme from A Summer Place, at nine bloody weeks. Anyway, here are my personal picks of the year:

Best Song: This decision is a little tougher than the previous years. "Cathy's Clown," "The Twist," "Save the Last Dance for Me," "Stay," and "Are You Lonesome Tonight?" are all great songs, among some other good ones this year. But my personal favorite has got to be "El Paso," which portrays a doomed love with all the grand style of the western cinema.

Worst Song: There were a few clinkers this year as well, but it would be pretty hard to top "Itsy Bitsy Teenie Weenie Yellow Polka Dot Bikini," which is a terrible abomination of the earth.

Most Surprising Song: Nothing too out of the ordinary this year. But if I have to pick one, I guess it'll be "Mr. Custer." It's incredibly stupid, and it's not even catchy or anything – it's hard to see why this was such a success.

All right folks. 1961 lies ahead!

Are You Lonesome Tonight?

2010-07-08T17:59:00.000-07:00

November 1960–January 1961

It's always comforting to see Elvis on our list. His songs (or his hits, at least) are some of the most dependable of this era. He has a seemingly effortless charisma in his performances, and I can totally see how this guy would get so popular. Here's the next in a long line of Elvis hits, "Are You Lonesome Tonight?"

The song dates back to the 20s, but first became popular in 1950 when it was recorded by some guy called Blue Barron. His version charted in the top 40, but it is totally sappy and not worth your time. A couple other singers covered it during the 50s to moderate success, but it wasn't until 1960 that Elvis gave us the definitive version. For me, this is one Elvis's best performances and one of the best examples of his vocal control – his dynamics, his vibrato, his ability to make every note seem perfectly placed. But wait – it only lasts for one verse! Almost half the song is taken up by the "talking" verse that follows.

To our modern ears, the talking verse is one of the most dated aspects of 50s and 60s music. Elvis used this technique pretty often, and I'm afraid his music suffers a bit for it. He couldn't have just come up with a real second verse? Or had his writers do it? The song would be so much better. As it is, it feels incomplete, with only one "real" verse amongst all the padding. Still, while the actual singing lasts, it's terrific.

But my favorite version of the song has got to be a 1969 live performance, where Elvis goofily changes one of the lyrics, which launches him into a fit of uncontrollable laughter which lasts for the rest of the song, while the backing group plays it totally straight. It's hilarious, mostly because his laughter is so infectious. I've always been a big fan of humor in music, and I think it's important for a musician not to take himself too seriously. Here's a guy that understood that.

Stay

2010-06-15T21:46:00.000-07:00

November 1960

Sometimes, as they say, less is more. "Stay," by Maurice Williams and the Zodiacs, is a fine example of how that advice can be true – it's short, sweet, and simple, and it's endured very well over the years.

It's quite a fine little tune. I also really like the fact that it was written by Williams himself, purportedly at age 15. I could believe that – the song has got a sort of boyish charm to it, although it's in no way a juvenile subject. Who hasn't ever had a time when they wished the object of their affection would stay just a little bit longer?

The falsetto that comes in on the second verse is definitely the song's selling point – that is, what makes it so distinctive and recognizable. Falsetto was a fairly common technique among the doo-wop groups of the time, and it was never used as appropriately as it is here. I like how they don't bring it out until about a third of the way into the track. The song is set up quite nicely in the first verse, then it hits that minor chord, and then when suddenly that super-high note comes in – it's a little surprising no matter how many times you've heard the song.

As simple as the song is, it's no surprise that it's been adapted into several notable cover versions. My favorite of these is the Hollies' 1963 take, which was a top ten in the UK but never charted in the states. Rather than featuring smooth vocal harmonies, they play the song with frenetic energy, flipping it into hyperspeed and barreling through it like only the British rock and roll bands could. It's an awesome reinvention of the song.

Less exciting is the Four Seasons' 1964 version, which was a top 40 hit despite being basically a copy of the original. I suppose the song fits them because of Frankie Valli's predilection for falsetto singing, but they don't do much to make the song their own – it doesn't have the charm of the Zodiacs.

And much later, in 1977, Jackson Browne scored a top 40 hit with a live version of the song, changing the lyrics so that rather than asking a girl to stay, he's entreating his audience to stay at the show a little longer. Cute, I suppose, if you were there, but I'm surprised the single was so successful. It's yer basic 70s soft-rock rendition of the tune, with a lot of instrumental soloing and a not a lot of enthusiasm. Depending on my mood, I could go for Maurice Williams's original, but more often I think I'd take the Hollies.

Georgia on My Mind

2010-06-12T23:53:00.000-07:00

November 1960

Hey! "Mr. Blue" by the Fleetwoods made an appearance in today's New York Times Sunday puzzle, and as a theme answer, no less! I wouldn't have known it if it weren't for this project.

But anyway, Ray Charles.

Charles had been hugely successful for years in the R&B chart – from 1953 to 1959 he had 18 top ten hits on that chart, including four #1s. But it wasn't until 1959's "What'd I Say" that he broke through to the mainstream, and finally scored a top ten on the pop chart. The song, so long that it had to be split into two halves for release on a 45, is sublime. A lengthy instrumental introduction features Charles's explosively virtuosic keyboard playing over a manic rhythm section – we are then treated to one of the most controversial vocal performances ever in popular music. Many fans and critics deplored the song, particularly the ending, for being imitative of sex. Well, they were right, but they would have never guessed that the tune's mixture of gospel ideas with secular lyrical themes would be so influential – "What'd I Say" is often cited as the birth of the genre of soul music.

So how better to follow that success than with a cool, jazzy ballad about the Peach State? The song had been around since 1930, and had been variously covered by just about every jazz group around, but I don't think many people would disagree that Ray Charles's is the definitive version, due to his passionate vocal performance. I guess it makes sense that his first #1 hit would be a sweet, mellow tune rather than his usual, more energetic fare – this kind of thing is more palatable to a mass audience.

Although the cynic in me must point out that it's hard to imagine such a (relatively) challenging melody being so successful today. Or even back then! For example, compare "Georgia" to "Everybody's Somebody's Fool" or "I Want to Be Wanted" (let alone "Poker Face") – it's not immediately whistlable, it's very non-repetitive, and it takes a few listens for the song to really sink in. These are not common features of pop music, where things usually have to be blunt, obvious, and simple to make it big. But hey, sometimes popularity and quality are compatible. This is a terrific song, and I'm glad it's on our list.

I Want to Be Wanted

2010-06-10T19:11:00.000-07:00

October 1960

And so here's the second of two #1s by Brenda Lee, following "I'm Sorry." It spent a lone week at the top of the chart in October.

It's worth mentioning again that Little Miss Dynamite was only 15 years old in 1960. And here she is, pining for romantic love in a pop song – a little unsettling, no? Let's even put aside the fact that at 15, we can assume she has no idea what love really means. Any love she may have experienced at this age would be firmly of the "puppy" variety.

But who's the target audience for this song (or any of her other songs, for that matter)? I'm sure at least partly, it's 15-year-olds. But as the song was #1 in America – a substantial portion of the people buying and listening to this record must have been quite a bit older. And without dancing around the issue, there is a definite sort of simmering sexuality to this song. The line about wanting "his lips to really kiss me," and even just the general idea/title are not things you'd expect to hear from a person this age. My imagination can't help but conjure up an image of an unshaven old man, sitting at home playing the record with his wife out of the house, licking his lips and sweating. Think about how many copies this sold – statistically, this must have happened at least once. Think about it. Eeeeeeeeeeehhhhhhh.

B-

Save the Last Dance for Me

2010-06-02T06:27:00.000-07:00

October–November 1960

Once in a while the people know what's good for 'em, and so the same America that made "Mr. Custer" #1 turned around and started buying "Save the Last Dance for Me," a now-classic sung by Ben E. King and the Drifters (many will recognize King as the singer of "Stand by Me").

The story goes that co-writer Doc Pomus was sick with polio and could not dance – the idea for the song came to him when he sat watching his wife dance at a party. And unlike most of these stories, this one seems to be pretty much true. I mean, who knows about when exactly the inspiration came to him, but the basic fact remains that he did have polio and couldn't walk without crutches. So it's kind of sweet. It's a remarkably simple, yet unique concept for a song, when you think about it. You could see it one of two ways – either he's all right with his girl having a good time, because he knows she's really and truly his; or he's a little nervous about his girl having a little too much fun and he's sort of calmly entreating her to remember him at the end of the evening. It works just fine either way.

But on the other hand, it's kind of a strange relationship they have if throughout the evening, multiple men are "holding her tight" and holding her hand "beneath the pale moonlight." I know the times and dancing conventions were different, but there's a definite line between dancing and some of the stuff mentioned in the song. I'm just sayin'.

So to me it's a little odd when a female singer does a cover version of the song from the girl's perspective. It's called "I'll Save the Last Dance for You" and it was a Top 40 hit for the singer Damita Jo a couple months later. It's like saying, "yeah baby, I'm gonna mess around a little bit with some other guys, but you know I still love you."

The song has been a Hot 100 hit for several different artists, including an apocalyptically bad version by the dependably awful Michael Bublé. But the song is enduringly popular because it's really a damn good song – there's no substitute for good songwriting. And I'd say the original Drifters recording is the best, most honest sounding version we've got.

Mr. Custer

2010-05-31T01:36:00.000-07:00

October 1960

If you thought only one song featuring hammy Indian war cries could make it to #1 in one year, well you were wrong. In January we had "Running Bear" and here we've got "Mr. Custer," a dramatization of the Battle of Little Bighorn.

As you may have noticed, this song is totally ridiculous. It's the story of a bumbling fool in General Custer's 7th Cavalry, begging his commander not to make him fight the Injuns. For a 50-year old novelty song, it's about as good as it gets. That is to say, it's about as funny as say, "Alley Oop" or "Hello Muddah, Hello Fadduh." It's kind of dark actually, in a weird way – he describes his nightmares of being scalped and shot, and as he sings the song, his friend Charlie is killed with an arrow ("I bet that smarts!"). And I guess it's implied that he himself dies in the end.

Custer's Last Stand is one of the most well-known examples of a battle where the American forces suffered a complete, unambiguous loss, which casts a rather ominous shadow over the whole track, Kemosabe jokes and all. And let's put ourselves in 1960 – the Great Sioux War was only 83 years in the past (thanks, Wikipedia!), so in other words, slightly more recent at the time than World War I is for us today. It was history for sure, but while there probably weren't any living veterans, there were definitely people still alive who remembered hearing the news of it. I'm not sure what point I'm trying to make with that, but it gives it some perspective.

Other thoughts:

- The singer, Larry Verne, is in his early 20s here. Is it just me, or does he sound older?

- Long gone are the days when dramatizations of historical battles were a commercially viable genre of song. Of course you'll remember "The Battle of New Orleans" from 1959.

- You also don't hear the word "redskins" a lot in pop music these days.

My Heart Has a Mind of Its Own

2010-05-28T19:59:00.000-07:00

September–October 1960

Connie Francis was a big deal in 1960, with two songs topping the chart and two more in the top ten. In a way, she sort of typifies this sort of pop-country style that was popular at the time. I'd say this one is a better song than "Everybody's Somebody's Fool" from the summer.

I like those vaguely Mexican-sounding trumpets (see also: "Ring of Fire"). Notice that the harmonized vocals are, in fact, Connie Francis and Connie Francis, as opposed to the Everly Brothers who were two different people (or so they claimed). Obviously this would be impossible in a live performance – she'd need a backup singer, or else just sing the main melody line without the backup, which would change the character of the song. Also, on the subject of the Everlys – contrasting a song like "Cathy's Clown" with this one just doesn't seem fair. Connie's harmonies sound totally flat and by-the-book in comparison.

But hey, it's not a bad song at all. It's one of many songs which anthropomorphize the singer's heart, something I've always found a little strange when you think about it. I'd say it's a cliché, but this tune sort of gets around that by just going ahead and stating it directly - my heart has a mind of its own. There you have it. It's slightly meta.

Otherwise, well... not the most terrificly exciting song. Ergo, I don't have much to say about it. Oh welps!

C+

The Twist

2010-05-27T18:52:00.001-07:00

September 1960 & January 1962

Ah, "The Twist" – the biggest dance craze of all time, and the one that arguably had the most lasting impact. Who could forget it? It's so ridiculously simple that it's amazing nobody had thought of it before.

As you probably could have guessed, Chubby Checker didn't invent the Twist – in fact, he wasn't even the first one to have a hit single with the song. That would be Hank Ballard and the Midnighters, whose version is curiously unavailable on Youtube. And people have dated the dance back much farther, back through plantation dances and even farther back to Africa. But what matters is that it exploded into popular culture in 1960, and you could say it never really went away.

After all, the concept of rhythmically "twisting" your hips back and forth, well – isn't that the basic idea behind dancing in nightclubs today? Is it a stretch to say that the Twist permanently changed the way people dance? Moving one's hips seems such a fundamental part of dancing (at least in the popular idiom) that it's hard to believe there was a time when it wasn't done. Look back on dancing footage from before the 60s – people don't swivel their hips unless it's a burlesque show or something. And so I can imagine how it must have felt for this to suddenly become socially acceptable. Liberating, I suppose. This song came along at just the right time – people were ready for it. Any earlier and it might have been dismissed as grotesque. Not that the parents didn't find it objectionable, or at least some of them. Apparently, it was controversial at the time for being overtly sexual. And well, I guess it is. Isn't that the point?

And yes, those are two different dates up there in the title of this post. "The Twist" is, in fact, the only song ever to do this – reach #1 on two separate chart runs. Not to mention the numerous Twist-themed songs Chubby Checker churned out in the following few years – "Let's Twist Again," "Twistin' U.S.A.," "Slow Twistin'," and "Twist It Up" were all charting singles. Even as late as 1964, the Beatles nearly topped the chart with their cover of the Isley Brothers' "Twist and Shout." That's four years later – an eternity!

A+

It's Now or Never

2010-05-17T02:36:00.000-07:00

August–September 1960

And so we return to Elvis, one of the true stalwarts of the #1 slot. In my opinion he never had a bad hit (to my knowledge – I may eat my words later), and so it's nice to see his name pop up on the list a few times a year. Ol' reliable.

You may recognize the melody (or not – it's okay, I didn't either) from the classic Neapolitan song "O Sole Mio." And so this song has the nice effect of sounding familiar, even if you've never heard it. And what else can I say? It's classic Elvis, on top of his game, delivering his typically charismatic performance and making it sound easy.

Hey, but isn't this cheating, from a songwriting point of view? Can't think of a melody? Just reuse an existing one! Well, not really. I see it more as a new take on an old classic (the original song was written around the turn of the century), breathing new life into an old song and introducing it to a new generation. There's something to be said for that – the original author likely didn't live to hear Elvis's version 62 years later, but I'm sure he (or she) would have been pretty darn happy to hear people whistling his tune again. Of course, if this happened today, there would probably be a lawsuit (the Internet tells me that the song has somehow been re-copyrighted until 2042. Sigh).

Lots of songwriters rewrite their own songs, or create different versions with different lyrics. Bob Dylan's "Boots of Spanish Leather" is almost musically identical to his earlier "Girl From the North Country," but with different words. And both are great, emotionally distinct songs in their own right – there would be no reason to compare them if it weren't for the similarity in the melody and guitar part.

So is taking a melody from someone else's song so much different? Ethically perhaps, it may be wrong to seek monetary gain from another writer's work. But aesthetically, it works just fine. Hey, the entire genre of blues is basically made up of only a few different song formulae. And what about the folk tradition? Once a tune becomes part of the popular awareness, it takes on a life of its own and can take many different forms. Dylan got in legal trouble with his slily-titled Love and Theft album, when he tried to adapt the folk tradition to our modern world of copyrights and lawyers, but he wasn't doing anything that countless other singers haven't been doing since forever ago.

And to take it even further, here's a meta-songwriting example – Neil Young's "Borrowed Tune."

I'm singin' this borrowed tune

I took from the Rolling Stones

Alone in this empty room

Too wasted to write my own

Itsy Bitsy Teenie Weenie Yellow Polka Dot Bikini

2010-05-08T00:09:00.000-07:00

August 1960

It's hard to think of a more annoying song than this monstrosity. Maybe "The Chicken Dance" could give it a run for its money. For one sad week in the summer of 1960, it was the #1 song in America.

It's funny how this incredibly stupid novelty song has endured into the 21st century, while most of the other #1s from this year are relegated to the annals of history. Lasting popularity is usually a mark of quality, but obviously the system fails us occasionally.

But come to think of it – I can't remember the last time I actually heard this song. It's immediately familiar to me, and I think many people my age would agree. But until today, I don't believe I'd heard it since I was a child. Maybe it's not that it's popular really, but that it's so idiotically catchy that even hearing it one time is enough to scar you forever. Who knows.

Anyways, let's remember that the bikini was relatively new and still somewhat controversial in 1960. The word's etymology is one of the more awesome ones I've read lately. According to my Oxford American Dictionary: "named after Bikini [in the Marshall Islands], where an atomic bomb was exploded in 1946 (because of the supposed explosive effect created by the garment)." So, uh... I learned something today!

I'm Sorry

2010-05-04T23:26:00.000-07:00

July–August 1960

Did you know that when Brenda Lee recorded the smash hit "Rockin' Around the Christmas Tree" in 1958, she was only 13 years old? I must have heard the song millions, nay, billions of times, but I never realized the singer was such a young girl. And so, two years later, she hit #1 with "I'm Sorry," at 15 years old.

As I remember from my high school years, the New York state law demanded that a person be 14 years old before being able to work legally. And even then, there are restrictions on hours until you're 16, I believe. I wonder how it works for child stars such as Lee. Singing, or any kind of performing, is certainly work – unless the laws have changed significantly since 1960, she would have been underage when she was rockin' around the Christmas tree. But even today, we have child actors, models, etc. I have no idea how they dodge the legality of it.

But legality aside, is it right for a child to be a performer so early? Lee supposedly was singing locally for money at age 10. You have to wonder how much of her success was due to her wanting it, and how much was due to her parents wanting it. She clearly was very talented at an early age, and we can only assume she enjoyed singing. So is it categorically different from other kinds of labor?

But anyway, it's a pretty dang good song. Lee's vocal performance is certainly beyond her years. During the "talking" verse (unfortunately, a pretty dated aspect of many songs from this era), her voice is deep and grizzled – it's hard to believe she's only 15. And of course that makes it all the more dramatic when she flips back into the song's hook. It's a convincing song with an unique melody, and I'd dare say it's a classic.

A-

Alley Oop

2010-04-29T18:40:00.000-07:00

July 1960

Ah, there's nothing like a novelty song, as a nice break from all the romantic woes we usually encounter in the pop charts. #1 for only one week, it's "Alley Oop," by the one-hit wonders The Hollywood Argyles.

It is the only popular song I know of that's based on a comic strip, unless you count "Charlie Brown," but I don't remember him calling the teacher "Daddy-o" in the strip. Anyway, I've never read the Alley Oop strip, even though it is apparently still in publication. I can only assume his depiction in the song is fair and accurate.

Most sources agree that the singer on the track is a guy named Norm Davis – although one of the record's producers, Gary Paxton, claims it was himself who recorded the lead vocal, in a somewhat bitter-sounding note on his personal website. An excerpt: "In the last 42 years, so many people have claimed things, all B.S. You've just read the actual truth."

Disputed authorship is fairly common in music, and it isn't hard to see why – if a record is a runaway success, everyone involved with it will want to claim the credit for themselves. It's a natural human reaction, but I have trouble understanding how a lead vocal could be disputed. To anyone who knew the performers personally, wouldn't it be obvious who the singer was? Wouldn't it be extremely difficult to fool people into thinking you sang a song that you didn't really sing? I guess this happens all the time in pop music – lip synching to someone else's voice (see Milli Vanilli). But here I just don't get it. It's not like this is a straightforward pop vocal – it's a highly unusual and distinctive performance.

Well anyway, as for the song itself, it's mildly amusing, which is all you can hope for in a novelty hit from the 60s. The funniest part of the song is the improvisation at the end – "He sho' is hip, ain't he? Like, what's happening?"

- Factoid: it's the second #1 hit in two months to contain the word "grizzly bear."

D+

Everybody's Somebody's Fool

2010-04-23T23:58:00.000-07:00

June–July 1960

Who was the top charting female singer of the 50s and 60s? If Wikipedia is to be believed, it's Connie Francis, whom I've never heard of before in my life. So much for posterity! Neither did I recognize her first #1 single, "Everybody's Somebody's Fool."

Assessment: average pap. I guess there's a reason someone from my generation has heard of the Everly Brothers, but not Francis. Also, the song's title declaration doesn't strike me as, well, true. Really? Everybody? "There is no exception to the rule," she sings. I for one don't think I'm somebody's fool. Not currently, at least. Unless there's someone out there that I don't know of, claiming me as her fool, in which case I'd appreciate it if she'd leave me alone.

In case you were wondering what the song sounds like in German, here it is. It seems to have been pretty common in the 50s and 60s (and earlier? I don't know) for a pop singer to record a hit song in two or more languages. Even the Beatles sang a couple of their early hits in German. It makes sense from a business perspective, and it's not clear to me why this isn't done anymore. Here in China, English-language pop music is ubiquitous – the language barrier doesn't seem to dampen its appeal. In fact, many Chinese-language songs have a line of English in the chorus, as the main "hook" of the song. And this song, which is currently a smash hit here, is half Korean, half English – which hasn't stopped it from being a ringtone on about 5 billion Chinese cell phones.

It's counterintuitive that non-Chinese songs could become so popular here, especially since karaoke is one of the defining features of Chinese (and East/Southeast Asian) pop culture. Hang out at a KTV bar and you'll probably hear someone croaking out "Hey Jude" or "My Heart Will Go On," even if they have no idea what the lyrics mean (or how to properly pronounce them).

Of course, the situation in 60s Europe was vastly different from modern China. No Western music company would bother translating a song for the Chinese market, because it's almost impossible to make money with music here, due to a lack of intellectual property rights. And really, music piracy plagues record companies everywhere, even if it's to a lesser extent than in China. The future of the music business is pretty uncertain in this day and age. But in the days of "Everybody's Somebody's Fool," with no downloading or pirating, you had to actually buy a record to hear a song. So it made perfect sense to produce a version of a popular hit that was suitable for a foreign market. But what about the time between the 60s and the computer age – let's say the 80s? Why didn't Michael Jackson record multilingual versions of "Billie Jean"? Maybe there are examples of translated pop music that I'm overlooking. If so, I'd like to hear about them. And no, I'm not talking about "Mr. Roboto."

C-

Cathy's Clown

2010-04-12T02:53:00.000-07:00

May–June 1960

Well folks, this is the 29th song so far, and yet it's the first one I would say I was familiar with before I undertook this project (young 'un that I am). Even cultural staples like "Mack the Knife" – I've definitely felt its influence, but I didn't really know the original version. But when I heard oldies stations in the car growing up, this one by the Everly Brothers definitely got a ton of airtime. It's the singing duo's third #1 single, but it's the first (and last) within our time frame.

First off, and I hope you'll agree – it's a terrific song. Foremost are the vocals, with as brilliant a two-part harmony as I can think of. The Everlys' singing was certainly an inspiration to many singers of the day, including a certain Paul and John. And the musical arrangement is great, too – especially those stuttering drums which seem to mimic the protagonist's nervousness. Because really, although he claims he's going to finally break it off with the titular girlfriend, we listeners aren't so sure if he'll really go through with it.

The situation in the song is pretty extreme – her cheating on him is so well-known that people openly laugh at him in the street – but it works because the emotion is believable on a basic level. I'd say most people have had the experience of staying in a relationship longer than they probably should have. With love can come a sense of attachment that's hard to exaggerate. People stay in abusive relationships all the time – everyone else around them can see the problem except themselves. It's easy to forget how powerful that feeling can be, but this song is strong enough to remind us. But in this case, it's not hopeless. He's finally declaring he's had enough. It's a pretty heavy emotion, and furthermore a dynamic one. What I mean is that the change from powerless cuckoldry to freedom feels like it's happening during the course of the song. It's not just a static image of heartbreak, or true love. I think this is why you can listen to the song so many times and it doesn't tire out. And those harmonies!

And here – in case you want the song ruined for you forever, be sure to check out this version.

A+

Stuck on You

2010-04-09T01:29:00.000-07:00

April–May 1960

Because of my arbitrary starting date of August 1958, I won't be covering most of Elvis's biggest hits. Ask someone to hum a bar of an Elvis song, and 9 times out of 10 they'll come up with "Hound Dog," "Don't Be Cruel," or another of his many smash hits that were popular before the Hot 100 chart existed. But even so, he had 6 number ones in the 60s – it's pretty remarkable that he was able to chart with some kind of regularity, all the way up to his death in 1977, 21 years after his first big hit, "Heartbreak Hotel."

So it's interesting that so far, both of the Elvis songs I've covered (this and "Big Hunk o' Love") were previously unfamiliar to me. Two of the biggest hits of the best-selling solo artist of all time, and I'd never heard them. Success in one's time doesn't guarantee that a song will be remembered, as we've seen with many other songs already. Why are his earlier hits so much more familiar in my lifetime?

Well, for one thing, they were more original. "Heartbreak Hotel" was pretty different from what else was out there in 1956, and you could probably say the same about a number of his other songs. On the other hand, "Stuck on You" is, musically, more or less the same exact song as his earlier hit "All Shook Up." By 1960 Elvis was still a mainstay of the zeitgeist, but his performances weren't as shocking as they had been 5 years earlier. He'd settled in his ways.

So a lot of his early 60s songs have a sort of "crankin' out the hits" kind of feel to them, in that he didn't really progress any more artistically, even though he continued to dominate the charts. The people knew what they liked and by golly, he gave it to them. This certainly isn't a bad song. You can be damn sure I'd rather listen to this than the Summer Place theme.

Other observations:

- Elvis is apparently "stuck on you" against your will – you can hide in the kitchen, hide in the hall, ain't gonna do you no good at all. This conjures up some bizarre imagery of Elvis as some kind of gremlin, holding on for dear life.

- He uses "yessiree" when addressing a woman.

- The way he says "GRIZZ-a-lee bear" is probably my favorite part of the song.

Theme From "A Summer Place"

2010-04-02T23:05:00.000-07:00

February–April 1960

It's not uncommon for a song from a movie to become a big hit. But here's an instrumental movie theme that was not only a hit, it was a monster smash that spent 9 weeks at the top. The movie was A Summer Place, and no matter how old you are, you'll instantly recognize Percy Faith's rendition of the tune:

It's one of those pieces of music that is so ingrained in our culture – in movies, TV, commercials, etc. – that it's easy to forget it actually had to come from somewhere, originally. Frankly, I have no desire to see the film – although its director, Delmer Daves, also gave us the classic western 3:10 to Yuma, this romantic drama is not remembered as fondly. The musical theme has far surpassed the film itself in our cultural environment.

The tune was written by Max Steiner, whom you may know as the composer for the film Gone with the Wind, but the famous version definitely bears the Percy Faith stamp. A lifelong opponent of good taste, Faith made a career out of producing campy, "lite" orchestral versions of popular tunes – he's known as one of the premier champions of the "easy listening" genre. This sort of music used to be a lot more successful on a widescale, commercial level. These days it's relegated to a niche market, and even banks and grocery stores don't play it anymore. (Strangely, neither do elevators – did they ever?)

Except, apparently, in China, where muzak is ubiquitous and always, always too damn loud. Tourist spots of cultural importance or natural beauty (as well as the bus rides to and from them) are all too often accompanied by a sort of easy listening music which is so sickening it makes me pine for Percy Faith. It is actually difficult for me to understand the appeal of this music. It is supposed to be soothing and calming (I guess) but for me it has the exact opposite effect of irritating me to no end. A misty mountainside or a river at night is serene enough for me without a sappy piano ballad telling me how serene it is. I guess it's pretty much my ultimate pet peeve – being subjected to bad music against my will. It's one of the main reasons I disliked working at corporate retail stores in high school and college.

So listening again to "A Summer Place," well... it's not so bad, I guess. But 9 weeks at number one... wow, people. The times they have a-changed.

Teen Angel

2010-03-28T23:37:00.000-07:00

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.

Running Bear

2010-03-26T03:33:00.000-07:00

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...

El Paso

2010-03-21T01:41:00.000-07:00

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.

A+

Special Secret Bonus Post—1959 Awards

2010-03-08T00:35:00.000-08:00

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

2010-03-07T23:58:00.000-08:00

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.

Heartaches by the Number

2010-03-02T01:39:00.000-08:00

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.

D+

Down Under

2010-02-08T04:26:00.000-08:00

January–February 1983

No, Men at Work weren't around in 1959 – they probably would have frightened people. I'm jumping to early '83 when the Australian group took over the world (briefly) with the whimsically patriotic smash hit "Down Under." Why would I do such a thing? Am I not disrupting the order of the cosmos by interrupting the chronology of this blog? Maybe I am. But you may have noticed this song in the news a few days ago, and so I figured it would be timely to cover this song out of order.

A court has recently ruled that, in "Down Under," Men at Work plagiarized a 1934 song called "Kookabura Sits in the Old Gum Tree" by Marion Sinclair (the song has since been bought by a company called Larrikin Music). "Kookabura" is apparently considered somewhat of a national folk song in Australia, and, like "Happy Birthday" in the U.S., most people are probably not aware that it is copyrighted. But nevertheless, somebody does own it, and that person has sued and won. Here's the story from the BBC.

The article has audio clips of both songs, for your comparing convenience. The part in question is the flute refrain that plays in the beginning of the song, and then again after each chorus. It's pretty clear to me that this tune is an intentional reference to "Kookabura," especially given the context of the song – the lyrics are loaded with references to Australian culture, and so here's a subtle musical reference as well. It's actually pretty clever – most people won't even notice it, but those that do notice it will have an "a-ha!" moment.

Intellectual property laws serve a great purpose, which is to protect original ideas. A competitor who isn't allowed to simply copy an idea is now forced to come up with a new one – and thus innovation is encouraged in our society. Compare this to a country like China, where there is practically no enforcement of these laws, much to the dismay of foreign companies who watch helplessly as their products and logos are ripped off ubiquitously. Here, search the web with Gougou, or crack open an ice-cold Laoshan Cola. When it's that easy to copy your competitors, there's no reason to come up with anything new, and there's no progress.

But an unfortunate byproduct of these laws is that they often allow frivolous lawsuits like this one. Is the snippet of melody taken from "Kookabura"? Of course it is. But come on, people. I highly doubt that the song's success would have been any different if the flute refrain had been changed. In fact, this brings up two fundamentally different situations in which an artist uses a piece of another artist's music. The first is what Men at Work are accused of: taking a piece of music and passing it off as your own. The other is what Men at Work actually did: referencing a piece of music. The listener is not meant to think that Men at Work wrote the famous Australian folk song. And there is a chasm of difference between these two things. One is okay, and the other is not okay.

But to me, the most frustrating thing about this case is the remarks made by Colin Hay (a member of Men at Work). From the BBC article:

"It is no surprise that in more than 20 years, no one noticed the reference to Kookaburra... it was inadvertent, naive, unconscious... by the time Men At Work had recorded the song, it had become unrecognisable. It may well be noted, that Marion Sinclair herself never made any claim that we had appropriated any part of her song Kookabura... Apparently Marion Sinclair didn't notice either."

...Huh?

So he's denying the similarity between the two songs? The obvious truth is that the group, along with most of the population of Australia, assumed that the folk song was in the public domain (as it, quite frankly, should be by now). The band referenced it in their song (remember – referenced it) without giving it a second thought, just as you would have no problem referencing "America the Beautiful" or something. In this case, the law is on the wrong side, and I understand why he would have to tell a white lie in court, in his own defense. But come on man, the trial is over. Stand up for yourself.

Anyway, none of this takes away from the fact that it's a great, classic song, and lots of people love it, including myself.

All right, stay tuned. Next it's back to scheduled programming!

A+

Mr. Blue

2010-02-06T02:38:00.000-08:00

November 1959

"Mack the Knife"'s 9 weeks at the top were not consecutive. Its run was interrupted for one week by another hit by the Fleetwoods, whom you'll know if you've been following this blog. "Mr. Blue" was not as popular as their April hit, but (imo) it's a better song.

I think most would agree that the Fleetwoods' music has not aged well. I was trying to think what it is about this music that's so, I dunno, lame. It's a corny love ballad, but that doesn't disqualify it per se – so is "Smoke Gets in Your Eyes," and that's held up a lot better.

Well here's what I think: it's just too quiet. It's hard to put passion into a song when you aren't singing any louder than you'd normally speak. But this isn't something that's limited to the 50s – think of Nick Drake, or Elliott Smith, both of whom are very respected by many people but just aren't my bag of beans, for this very reason.

Maybe my aversion to this singing style stems from my feeling that it's unnatural, in a way. Think about it – it's a phenomenon that could only happen in the recording age. If the Fleetwoods didn't have microphones, they wouldn't be able to sing for an audience larger than a small room, and so they could never have become well-known. Again, this is probably a personal thing, but I love a singer who can really belt, and I quickly lose patience with a singer who can't. Of course, some straddle a comfortable middle ground – one of my favorite singers is Joni Mitchell, who neither bellows nor mumbles – but as a rule of thumb, I'm more drawn to the Mick Jaggers and Roger Daltreys of the world. In comparison, "Mr. Blue" doesn't really cut the mustard.

This reminds me of another recording-era singing phenomenon – and I can't believe I'm about to make this comparison – death growling. In reality (like the Fleetwoods) it's only about as loud as a speaking voice, and so the monstrous roar is an effect that can only be achieved by holding a microphone close to one's mouth. Of course, those that know me know that I am in the minority of people that thinks this sounds really awesome. But why my acceptance of this when I discount so many other singers for it? Well, here it produces the illusion of loudness – the fundamental difference. And like good special effects in a movie, it's a strong enough illusion for me to temporarily forgo my knowledge that it isn't "real."

Thankfully (for the purposes of this blog), the Fleetwoods never had another #1 hit. So let's forge onward!

C+

Mack the Knife

2010-02-04T06:19:00.000-08:00

October–December 1959

Bobby Darin lived a short life (just 37 years), but he was a very successful recording artist. His only #1 hit was his version of the standard "Mack the Knife," and it was a huge hit, topping the chart for 9 weeks – as well as becoming the definitive version for many listeners.

This is an example of what I think of as "casino jazz" – that sort of swaggering, over-confident lounge singer style with lots of punchy horns and a swingin' rhythm section. But hey, if I had to listen to something in this style, it might as well be this song. I kinda like it in its own way.

But the song itself is more interesting than this particular recording of it. First of all, it seems music fans of 1959 were pretty morbid – first "Stagger Lee" and then this, a portrait of a gangster which even details a couple of murders along the way. But yes, there is a context to all this. The song, and the character, are from the 1928 German musical The Threepenny Opera by Kurt Weill, lyrics by Bertolt Brecht. Weill was actually a prominent composer of classical music and opera – but despite the play's title, it's no more an opera than West Side Story. Even so, this has got to be among the closest a charting pop song has come to mingling with the classical world.

But out of context, just taken as a pop single – isn't it kind of weird to be celebrating a killer in a upbeat number like this? I guess it's just part of America's long history of romanticizing gang violence; think Godfather, Sopranos. The characters are anti-heroes, but there's something about their idealized lifestyles that we admire. Maybe it's their freedom from the constraints of society, their vigilantism, their ability to make their own rules. Hey, remind you of something? Just ask John Wayne and Clint Eastwood. Or for that matter, Han Solo. It's the same kind of escapism that draws us to many kinds of "genre" stories.

Of course, the original version of the song is quite different sounding – indeed, it's in German (gotta love those trilled R's). The singer, who sounds like a cartoon villain from Merry Melodies, actually fits the song's ominous lyrics much better than Darin, to whom a life of crime is some kind of big party. The song has been covered many times, including by Louis Armstrong (whose version predates Darin's), Frank Sinatra, Ella Fitzgerald, and of course, everyone's favorite band, Westlife. The English-language version has become such a staple of American culture, it's easy to forget its German origins.

But of all the recordings of "Mack the Knife" throughout history, the hands-down greatest and most moving version has got to be this one. You can thank me later.

B-

Sleep Walk

2010-01-24T12:08:00.000-08:00

September 1959

The next two weeks were ruled by two Italian-American brothers from Brooklyn, going by the name of Santo & Johnny. "Sleep Walk" was their only hit in America, although they had more success internationally.

Another instrumental which, like "The Happy Organ," relies on an unusual instrument for its success – in this case, the steel guitar. To make an instrumental song that has any chance of commercial success, you've got to have something to replace the usual role of singer, and by that I mean you've got to have a lead instrument. Ever since the concerti grossi of the baroque period, more or less all successful instrumental music has one instrument in the lead, more prominently placed above all the others (if you can think of a counterexample, let me know). A common choice is the guitar: see the surf rock songs of the Ventures, and Dick Dale; the heavy metal-tinged jazz (or jazz-tinged heavy metal) of the Mahavishnu Orchestra; or the Allman Brothers with songs like "Jessica." Another popular instrument in the olden tymes was the saxophone (as in the ever-popular "Yakety Sax").

But here, in "Sleep Walk," we hear something we're not accustomed to, and it strikes us in an unusual way. The first impression is that of surprise ("What is that?"), but of course in a few seconds it turns to enjoyment, because the melody really is quite nice and original. But would we even be paying attention if it hadn't shocked us a little in the beginning with a fresh sound?

As we got further into the 60s, and onward, instrumental songs became less commercially viable. But of course, that doesn't mean they ain't good; some of my favorite songs are instrumentals. All guitar-based, though – I'll admit, I have a bias toward the instrument.

B+

The Three Bells

2010-01-18T14:36:00.000-08:00

August–September 1959

Next up is "The Three Bells" by vocal trio the Browns, which was #1 for four weeks.

It's based on an earlier French song called "Les trois cloches," made popular by Edith Piaf (whom I only know of through the biopic La vie en rose); as far as I can tell, the meaning of the lyrics is more or less preserved in translation. It's a story song, chronicling the life of a fictional Jimmy Brown (who, curiously, has the same name as the lead singer). In three hushed, gospel-like verses, and three melodic choruses, we follow the path of Jimmy's life as he is born, gets married, and finally dies.

Jimmy Brown is a mythical figure, I suppose. The tone of the song is undeniably reverent – we are meant to be filled with awe when we hear the story of this legendary man. But here's the thing: we don't hear about a single thing he did in his lifetime, other than be born, get married, and die. I feel this has two effects, which are sort of opposite, and you can take your pick. The first thing it does is it increases the mystery of his life – we've got to use our imaginations to know what great things he did with his life. He becomes Davy Crockett, Paul Bunyan, John Henry, and all the other great American mythical heroes (or, I guess, the French ones).

But here's the other effect: what do being born, getting married, and dying have in common? They are three things that most everyone does in their lives. Jimmy becomes Everyman. So what... he's totally ordinary? So why sing a song about him? Well, I don't think the two interpretations of the song are entirely contradictory, as they might first seem. He's ordinary, yet extraordinary. Don't we all feel this way sometimes? With billions of people in the world, it can be humbling to realize it's pretty damn hard to be special. Of course I can only speak for myself, but I would imagine most everybody feels that they are truly special; extraordinary in some way. We could all be as famous and respected as any of the great figures in history, if we'd just had the right chance at the right time; or if the stars had lined up just a little differently. We could all be Jimmy Brown. But – and this is perhaps the central meaning of the song – we all are Jimmy Brown. For isn't there enough beauty and reward in the simple life described here? It's important to be comfortable with the life you've got, and "The Three Bells" reminds us of that.

B+

A Big Hunk o' Love

2010-01-10T22:34:00.000-08:00

August 1959

Most of Elvis's most famous songs are from before the Hot 100 chart, and thus before the time frame of this blog. But here's the first one that we're concerned with, which was #1 for two weeks:

It's pretty fun to imagine the parents – the conservative, 50s parents – as they realized with horror what their innocent children were listening to. I mean, "Heartbreak Hotel" this ain't. Elvis wants the young women of America to give him a big-uh big-uh big-uh hunk o' love. And he's got a wishbone in his pocket! This is pretty much the raunchiest pop music got in those days.

Let's fast forward 50 years or so. Apart from a few minor stylistic differences, "Big Hunk o' Love" is more or less the same song as a certain 2006 hit by Akon and Snoop Dogg (which also hit #1 – so we'll get to it eventually). What was it Bob Dylan said about the times? Well they have indeed changed, but it's only the delivery that's changed. The message has been there all along. Sure, today's hyper-sexual club music leaves a lot less to the imagination, but let's not kid ourselves – Elvis knew what he wanted.

And let's not forget that this song was one of 10(!) top 40 hits Presley released during his two-year service in the U.S. Army. Here, get a load of the record cover:

Elvis's military service is one thing that redeemed him in the eyes of the older generations. He may have been a hip-swinging corrupter of youth, but he was all-American. Anyway, this isn't one of his best songs, but it's a good enough rocker that displays Presley's more upbeat side. "A Bing Hunk o' Love" will do.

Lonely Boy

2010-01-05T16:15:00.000-08:00

July–August 1959

Paul Anka (a Canuck, as my Canadian colleague dutifully reminded me) had his only #1 hit with "Lonely Boy," which topped the chart for four weeks. I guess that makes it his biggest hit, although he had a smash hit with "Diana" a couple years earlier – before the inception of the Hot 100 chart, and this blog. But for the purposes of this blog, this is the one that matters most:

It's similar to "Venus," #1 a few months earlier, in that it's a love song, but not for any specific girl. Rather, it's a general call (to the heavens?) for "someone to love." I guess it's not too uncommon a theme in popular music – I'm reminded of Queen's 1976 "Somebody to Love" – but it's just a little funny that two songs like this were huge hits in such close succession. I guess a lot of people in the late 50s, uh, really wanted a girlfriend? I don't know.

And say, remember when pop singers wrote their own songs? Or at least some of them did. Anka was a pretty talented songwriter – he composed a number of successful songs for himself, as well as for other singers. I'll admit though, "Lonely Boy" doesn't really do it for me. Harmonically, it consists of a whopping 2 chords, which no amount of strings and backing singers could save from repetitiveness. But hey, better songs have been written on only 1 chord (Bob Dylan's "Masters of War" comes to mind). It's a funny thing about simple songs – they can be powerful and pithy, or trite and bland, and it's a fine line. It's just that there isn't really anything else about this song that stands out. It's kind of boring, and Anka is more shouting it than singing it.

But, credit where credit's due – Anka also gave us the far more awesome "She's a Lady," made famous by Tom Jones in the early 70s. And speak of the devil! Except for the bridge and the occasional embellishment, the song is built around, yes, 2 chords. Not the same 2, but what is it that makes this song so much better? Well, I don't think anyone would deny that it's a far better vocal performance (sorry Paul). And here, the simplicity of the song comes off as very direct, almost sexual. The 2 chords of "Lonely Boy," on the other hand, sleepily rock back and forth until the song finally fades out, which apparently worked just fine for listeners of 1959. But hey, if nothing else, here's a guy who was able to adapt to the changing times.

The Battle of New Orleans

2010-01-03T00:33:00.000-08:00

June–July 1959

And now we come to the first nationalistic song on the list. It's also the first country-western song on the list – coincidence? It was apparently written by a high school history teacher, but the famous version is the massive (six weeks at #1) hit by Johnny Horton.

Funny this song should come up right now, because this Friday (January 8th) will be the 195th anniversary of the battle, which is often seen as the deciding American victory in the War of 1812. Of course, in the song, the details of the battle are not important. The Americans won, and the British ran away like little girls. However, it doesn't even purport to be a true account of the facts. It's deliberately mythologized and exaggerated – one of the later verses involves using an alligator as a cannon.

So it's all in good fun, but it raises the question: what did Americans of 1959 have against the British? This wasn't some flash-in-the-pan ditty – it was the number one single in America for a month and a half. The British had been our allies in both world wars, and most recently in the Korean war. Why the hostility at this particular time?

But maybe this has nothing to do with the U.K. Maybe people just wanted to remember a time when America won a war so triumphantly. The modern wars were American victories too, but they were increasingly bittersweet, being closer to the present, rather than history. And let's not forget that in the summer of '59, the U.S. had been funding a war in Vietnam for half a decade, and we would enter it ourselves in a short few months. Maybe people were scared enough that a nice little tale of red-blooded American victory seemed very appealing. But I'm betting this song didn't chart in England.

Kansas City

2009-12-30T16:51:00.000-08:00

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

2009-12-25T16:11:00.000-08:00

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

2009-12-24T20:53:00.000-08:00

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

2009-12-23T05:01:00.000-08:00

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!

Stagger Lee

2009-12-20T16:30:00.000-08:00

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

2009-12-16T17:30:00.000-08:00

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

2009-12-13T19:50:00.000-08:00

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)

2009-12-13T18:59:00.000-08:00

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!

To Know Him Is to Love Him

2009-12-10T18:37:00.000-08:00

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:

Tom Dooley

2009-12-08T00:56:00.000-08:00

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

2009-12-06T07:36:00.000-08:00

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.

It's All in the Game

2009-12-03T17:30:00.000-08:00

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

2009-12-02T18:16:00.000-08:00

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)

2009-12-01T17:33:00.000-08:00

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+

Poor Little Fool

2009-11-30T23:19:00.000-08:00

August 1958

What better singer to kick off this project than dreamy, dreamy Ricky Nelson? Here, take a moment to bask in the deep, blue oceans that are his eyes:

Talk about a sign of the times. It's hard to imagine a chart-topping song in this day and age (or even ten years later) where a male singer refers to himself diminutively as "little." The words of "Poor Little Fool" tell a simple story - once upon a time, this guy used to go around breakin' young girls' hearts. Then a girl came along that broke HIS heart, and now, boy howdy, he's learned his lesson! It's totally clean-cut and wholesome, and it's very 1950s.

And for all its corniness, isn't it just a nice little song? I mean, it's not blowing my mind, but it's tuneful, it's got a pretty strong hook in the chorus, and it's well performed by our non-threatening charmer Ricky. After having the 2009 charts topped for a stunning 26 consecutive weeks by the *sigh* Black Eyed Peas, it's pretty refreshing to go back to a time when someone could hit #1 by, you know, actually having a good singing voice. Nelson would have another #1 a few years later, so we're not through with him just yet.

B+

Ground rules

2009-11-02T03:01:00.001-08:00

Those that know me know that I have a fondness for the chronicling of pop and rock music through history, and this blog is one result of that. Those same people also might know that I love lists of every kind, and so here's a list for you: every song that ever made it to the #1 spot on the Billboard Hot 100, in chronological order, starting from the chart's beginning in August 1958. I'll be blogging about each one individually, just sharing my thoughts and opinions and all that stuff. Of course, the idea of a #1 single has been around for longer than that, but the inception of the BH100 is a nice convenient landmark, and plus, this way I just barely avoid having to post about "The Purple People Eater" (phew).

One inherent problem (or bonus) of this idea is that there will continue to be new #1 singles every week or two or fourteen. Will this be a neverending quest, doomed from the start never to be completed? Will I become like the mythical Sisyphus, who eternally rolls a stone up a mountain, only to have it roll back down again? Well, no. As long as I post reasonably frequently, I'll have this whole thing wrapped up by the time my grandkids are graduating from college. And who knows what crazy music they'll be listening to then? I'm sure it'll be just like the music of the Krell from Forbidden Planet.