Soldier Boy

May 1962

Oh, the Shirelles. How far you've fallen. You'll recall that this is the very same group who brought us such great classics as "Will You Love Me Tomorrow" and "Tonight's the Night." Often cited as the first girl-group, they certainly were not the most prolific. Among their small handful of hits was this curious little number.

It's a little shocking, really, how poor of an effort this is, compared to the Shirelles' other material from around the same time. Musically it's trite, and lyrically it's hardly inspiring. Historically it makes sense, though, as the years 1961 and 1962 saw a dramatic escalation of U.S. involvement in Vietnam, and I suppose the sentiment of a woman waiting at home for her soldier was one that resonated with the public. When we think back on Vietnam-era popular music, we tend to remember the anti-war protest side of things, and it's easy to forget the more mainstream songs like this one. It's totally complacent with the war, even optimistic—a very real attitude that is underrepresented in most nostalgic views on this time period. You'll note that "Blowin' in the Wind" did not chart at all on the singles chart.

But oh boy, "Soldier Boy" just has not aged well at all. Even on the level of production values, it just sounds cheaper compared to the Shirelles' other major hits. There always is a certain random element that decides which songs become #1 and which ones don't. Maybe there wasn't much else out at the time to compete with this one? At any rate, the group's hits from the previous year were much stronger musically, my personal favorite being the wonderfully catching "Mama Said." And when I think of this group, that's the kind of song I'll think of, not this unfortunate disappointment.

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Johnny Angel

April 1962

How unfortunate that since my return to this project, several songs in a row have been so mediocre. It makes for a rather limp restart, but rules are rules, and I'm doing the songs in order. The next one is by Shelley Fabares (rhymes with "cabaret"), another lame one-hit wonder.



One interesting thing to note about these songs is the demographic groups that were responsible for pushing them to the top. Someone like Connie Francis probably appealed to younger people, but also had a strong popularity among the adult age groups—I think it was this breadth of target audience that allowed her to generate such a massive number of hits. Think of the most successful acts of the recording era, the likes of Elvis, the Beatles, Madonna, Michael Jackson. All of them had an appeal that attracted teenagers and adults alike. (Notably, the over-40 section of the population, although a huge demographic group, is largely not a concern of the artists that I am covering.)

Shelley Fabares, on the other hand, had a much more limited appeal—"Johnny Angel" is clearly designed for teenyboppers only. The song's lyrics express a sentiment that only a middle or high schooler could possibly sympathize with: "Johnny Angel, how I love him, he's got something that I can't resist / But he doesn't even know that I exist." Few mature people would identify with the idea of falling in love with someone you don't even know, but this is of course a huge phenomenon among the newly pubescent—who didn't have a crush or two in their younger years?

And indeed, the singer herself was only 18 when this song was popular. Probably a little past the age of most of her fans, but closer than most. But anyway, it's not like teenyboppers are some obscure, niche group. They were, and are, an enormous and influential section of the consumer base of popular music, for better or for worse. They were able to get Shelley Fabares to the top of the chart, but they couldn't keep her there. Of her few other attempts, the only one that even made a blip on the radar was a sequel to "Johnny Angel," released a few months later, called "Johnny Loves Me." Johnny may have finally loved her, but her fans gave her up.

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Wooden Heart (Muss I Denn)

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.

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Mr. Custer

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.

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Alley Oop

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."

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December 1959 - Why

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.

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Heartaches by the Number

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.

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The Battle of New Orleans

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.

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Venus

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!

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