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.
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.
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!
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.
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...
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!
