Down Under

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

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

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-