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-

Sleep Walk

September 1959

The next two weeks were ruled by two Italian-American brothers from Brooklyn, going by the name of Santo & Johnny. "Sleep Walk" was their only hit in America, although they had more success internationally.

Another instrumental which, like "The Happy Organ," relies on an unusual instrument for its success – in this case, the steel guitar. To make an instrumental song that has any chance of commercial success, you've got to have something to replace the usual role of singer, and by that I mean you've got to have a lead instrument. Ever since the concerti grossi of the baroque period, more or less all successful instrumental music has one instrument in the lead, more prominently placed above all the others (if you can think of a counterexample, let me know). A common choice is the guitar: see the surf rock songs of the Ventures, and Dick Dale; the heavy metal-tinged jazz (or jazz-tinged heavy metal) of the Mahavishnu Orchestra; or the Allman Brothers with songs like "Jessica." Another popular instrument in the olden tymes was the saxophone (as in the ever-popular "Yakety Sax").

But here, in "Sleep Walk," we hear something we're not accustomed to, and it strikes us in an unusual way. The first impression is that of surprise ("What is that?"), but of course in a few seconds it turns to enjoyment, because the melody really is quite nice and original. But would we even be paying attention if it hadn't shocked us a little in the beginning with a fresh sound?

As we got further into the 60s, and onward, instrumental songs became less commercially viable. But of course, that doesn't mean they ain't good; some of my favorite songs are instrumentals. All guitar-based, though – I'll admit, I have a bias toward the instrument.

B+

The Three Bells

August–September 1959

Next up is "The Three Bells" by vocal trio the Browns, which was #1 for four weeks.

It's based on an earlier French song called "Les trois cloches," made popular by Edith Piaf (whom I only know of through the biopic La vie en rose); as far as I can tell, the meaning of the lyrics is more or less preserved in translation. It's a story song, chronicling the life of a fictional Jimmy Brown (who, curiously, has the same name as the lead singer). In three hushed, gospel-like verses, and three melodic choruses, we follow the path of Jimmy's life as he is born, gets married, and finally dies.

Jimmy Brown is a mythical figure, I suppose. The tone of the song is undeniably reverent – we are meant to be filled with awe when we hear the story of this legendary man. But here's the thing: we don't hear about a single thing he did in his lifetime, other than be born, get married, and die. I feel this has two effects, which are sort of opposite, and you can take your pick. The first thing it does is it increases the mystery of his life – we've got to use our imaginations to know what great things he did with his life. He becomes Davy Crockett, Paul Bunyan, John Henry, and all the other great American mythical heroes (or, I guess, the French ones).

But here's the other effect: what do being born, getting married, and dying have in common? They are three things that most everyone does in their lives. Jimmy becomes Everyman. So what... he's totally ordinary? So why sing a song about him? Well, I don't think the two interpretations of the song are entirely contradictory, as they might first seem. He's ordinary, yet extraordinary. Don't we all feel this way sometimes? With billions of people in the world, it can be humbling to realize it's pretty damn hard to be special. Of course I can only speak for myself, but I would imagine most everybody feels that they are truly special; extraordinary in some way. We could all be as famous and respected as any of the great figures in history, if we'd just had the right chance at the right time; or if the stars had lined up just a little differently. We could all be Jimmy Brown. But – and this is perhaps the central meaning of the song – we all are Jimmy Brown. For isn't there enough beauty and reward in the simple life described here? It's important to be comfortable with the life you've got, and "The Three Bells" reminds us of that.

B+

A Big Hunk o' Love

August 1959

Most of Elvis's most famous songs are from before the Hot 100 chart, and thus before the time frame of this blog. But here's the first one that we're concerned with, which was #1 for two weeks:



It's pretty fun to imagine the parents – the conservative, 50s parents – as they realized with horror what their innocent children were listening to. I mean, "Heartbreak Hotel" this ain't. Elvis wants the young women of America to give him a big-uh big-uh big-uh hunk o' love. And he's got a wishbone in his pocket! This is pretty much the raunchiest pop music got in those days.

Let's fast forward 50 years or so. Apart from a few minor stylistic differences, "Big Hunk o' Love" is more or less the same song as a certain 2006 hit by Akon and Snoop Dogg (which also hit #1 – so we'll get to it eventually). What was it Bob Dylan said about the times? Well they have indeed changed, but it's only the delivery that's changed. The message has been there all along. Sure, today's hyper-sexual club music leaves a lot less to the imagination, but let's not kid ourselves – Elvis knew what he wanted.

And let's not forget that this song was one of 10(!) top 40 hits Presley released during his two-year service in the U.S. Army. Here, get a load of the record cover:

Elvis's military service is one thing that redeemed him in the eyes of the older generations. He may have been a hip-swinging corrupter of youth, but he was all-American. Anyway, this isn't one of his best songs, but it's a good enough rocker that displays Presley's more upbeat side. "A Bing Hunk o' Love" will do.

B

Lonely Boy

July–August 1959

Paul Anka (a Canuck, as my Canadian colleague dutifully reminded me) had his only #1 hit with "Lonely Boy," which topped the chart for four weeks. I guess that makes it his biggest hit, although he had a smash hit with "Diana" a couple years earlier – before the inception of the Hot 100 chart, and this blog. But for the purposes of this blog, this is the one that matters most:

It's similar to "Venus," #1 a few months earlier, in that it's a love song, but not for any specific girl. Rather, it's a general call (to the heavens?) for "someone to love." I guess it's not too uncommon a theme in popular music – I'm reminded of Queen's 1976 "Somebody to Love" – but it's just a little funny that two songs like this were huge hits in such close succession. I guess a lot of people in the late 50s, uh, really wanted a girlfriend? I don't know.

And say, remember when pop singers wrote their own songs? Or at least some of them did. Anka was a pretty talented songwriter – he composed a number of successful songs for himself, as well as for other singers. I'll admit though, "Lonely Boy" doesn't really do it for me. Harmonically, it consists of a whopping 2 chords, which no amount of strings and backing singers could save from repetitiveness. But hey, better songs have been written on only 1 chord (Bob Dylan's "Masters of War" comes to mind). It's a funny thing about simple songs – they can be powerful and pithy, or trite and bland, and it's a fine line. It's just that there isn't really anything else about this song that stands out. It's kind of boring, and Anka is more shouting it than singing it.

But, credit where credit's due – Anka also gave us the far more awesome "She's a Lady," made famous by Tom Jones in the early 70s. And speak of the devil! Except for the bridge and the occasional embellishment, the song is built around, yes, 2 chords. Not the same 2, but what is it that makes this song so much better? Well, I don't think anyone would deny that it's a far better vocal performance (sorry Paul). And here, the simplicity of the song comes off as very direct, almost sexual. The 2 chords of "Lonely Boy," on the other hand, sleepily rock back and forth until the song finally fades out, which apparently worked just fine for listeners of 1959. But hey, if nothing else, here's a guy who was able to adapt to the changing times.

C

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.

D

Kansas City

May 1959

The songwriting team of Jerry Leiber and Mike Stoller was one of the most successful in early rock and roll. They're probably best known for giving us several of Elvis's biggest hits ("Hound Dog," "Jailhouse Rock," and "Loving You," among others), as well as most of the Coasters' hits. "Kansas City" was one of their early successes, becoming a minor hit for Little Willie Littlefield in 1952. But it wasn't until '59 that it became a staple of rock music, due to a version by Wilbert Harrison that spent two weeks at #1.



It's since been covered by countless singers and groups (here's the Beatles playing it, in an altered version). But let's compare the original to the #1 hit version that came out seven years later. I think this is a very good example of the development of rock and roll music. The Littlefield version could be considered R&R, if you were so inclined. But not exactly.

Probably the most defining aspect of rock music is the drum beat. In the 1951 song, it has a very clear jazz "swing" feel to it – listen especially to the hi-hat. And how about those saxophone lines that run constantly throughout the song? Again, very heavily jazz-inflected. The whole song has a sort of lazy trotting feel to it (not in a bad way).

And now the Wilbert Harrison version. The difference is night and day – just listen to the pound-pound-pounding of those drums. This, in particular, is perhaps the most important part of what makes rock music what it is. The beat goes "one TWO three FOUR..." with a strong emphasis on beats two and four. Listen to any pre-50s music, and you won't find this rhythm. It seems so basic and intuitive, but it was indeed an innovation – somebody had to do it first. Jazz music often placed the emphasis on two and four, but it was never a strong drum hit like it is here. Both songs feature a Fats Domino-esque rolling piano figure, and a similar vocal style, but the later version is much more "rock and roll" than the earlier one. And what's that in the '59 version? An electric guitar solo! Here is the influence of another major figure in rock music, Chuck Berry. Although he never had a #1 hit (What's that? He did? I CAN'T HEAR YOU LALALALALALALALALALA), his influence was felt throughout the next decade and long after that.

Another thing that struck me about Harrison's "Kansas City" – I'm surprised a pre-civil rights America was so enthusiastic about a black man singing such implicitly sexual lyrics. But I guess if "Stagger Lee" could pass muster then so could this.

A+