Big Girls Don't Cry

November–December 1962

Another Four Seasons entry, so soon after the first! Everyone should know this one.



Is it just me, or is this exactly the same song as "Sherry"? It's like, they found something that worked, so... let's do it again! You can literally put one of these songs on, and sing the other along to it. Go ahead, try it.

Anyway, you can hardly blame me for not getting too excited about the second Four Seasons song in just four entries. I would say that this actually works slightly better than their former hit. Just sounds a little more tightened up, and the song's big hook is a little bolder and catchier. I'll take it.

B

Sherry

September–October 1962

Now, I know that the Four Seasons are one of the most loved musical groups from this time period, but I've got to be honest, right up front: I find Frankie Valli's singing voice to be shrill, silly, and frankly annoying. There have been lots of songs I've covered by artists with enduring reputations, where I totally get the appeal—Elvis's charm is contagious, the layered sounds of Motown can be marvelous, and hey, I can even dig Neil Sedaka—but this is where I draw the line.



I guess some things just can't cross the generational divide. It's not like the Four Seasons were some flash in the pan group, either—"Sherry" is merely the first of five #1 hits the group recorded, and there are two more from Valli's solo career. Not having been alive in 1962, it's impossible for me to have a true sense of what this music sounded like to people at the time, but there must be some way to explain this kind of massive appeal. Certainly they have a unique, easily recognizable sound, due mostly to the lead vocals. Perhaps it's the boldness with which Valli lunges into this performance, flipping in and out of falsetto, giving it everything he's got, injecting it with a charming youth energy. At any rate, you couldn't accuse this group of sounding like anybody else. Whatever it was, people got it.

Certain kinds of music are more generationally specific than others, I think. Radiohead's album Kid A, widely regarded as a masterpiece of the millennial age, probably has limited appeal to the folks that made the Four Seasons popular (and who knows how the children of the future will hear it?). Its cold, fearful depiction of the brave new world of the computer age is something that is pretty damn specific to people in my demographic or thereabouts, who grew up experiencing the emergence of personal computers and the Internet firsthand, during our formative years. When Kid A is as old as "Sherry" is now, people might look back and wonder what all the fuss was about.

I guess what it comes down to is that music sounds different to different people, and that's that. A great many cultural and societal factors go into how someone perceives a given piece of music, and I'll never be able to hear the Four Seasons from the frame of the early 60s zeitgeist. I can only relate my totally subjective experience.

B-

Will You Love Me Tomorrow

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. 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+

Stay

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.

B