Save the Last Dance for Me

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.

A

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.

D

My Heart Has a Mind of Its Own

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

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

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

B

Itsy Bitsy Teenie Weenie Yellow Polka Dot Bikini

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!

F

I'm Sorry

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-