It is very cold in Toronto today and I was thinking about a song, any song, that might warm me up. “Summertime Blues” came to mind. If it was summertime right now, I would not have the blues.
The song was co-written and recorded by Eddie Cochran, and was his breakout hit. The other writing credit goes to his manager Jerry Capehart. It was released in August 1958 (as the B-side to “Love Again” on Liberty Records) and got up to No. 8 on the Billboard Hot 100 on September 29, 1958. It has been covered by The Who, Blue Cheer, Joan Jett, Van Halen, Alan Jackson, The Stray Cats, even Olivia Newton John.
Cochran was 19 when he recorded this. It was a big hit with his teenage fans, who could relate to the lyrics about being held back by society (and parents). Cochran got an image as a rebel with a guitar, and his legend was secured when he died 2 years later while riding in the back of a taxi. He was often compared to James Dean, who was 24 when he died in a car accident.
Rolling Stone magazine puts “Summertime Blues” at No. 73 on their 500 Greatest Songs of All Time. And it does have that great guitar lick. Not bad for a guy who died at 21.
How often have you listened to a singer or a group currently out there or perhaps even from the relatively distant past and asked yourself why they weren’t better known, why they weren’t making it or hadn’t made it? You think they sound great, or that they are at least as good as some of the stuff everyone seems to be raving about.
I guess this is why most of us don’t run record labels. But even for those who aren’t in the business, it sure seems like a crapshoot. I remember a conversion I once had with a guy who ran a small independent label in Toronto and I asked him what he was looking for when he signed new acts, what made him think they would be successful. Bottom line is that he was modest enough to admit he couldn’t really put it into words, but had a pretty good idea once he heard it. Okay.
Another thing I used to hear is that labels would sign a bunch of acts, release their music and then let the market decide, basically cutting most loose when the hoped-for breakthrough didn’t come. One of the problems here is the common complaint that there is an inherent bias in this approach based on how much promotion a label will put behind an act.
However things work now or used to work in the past, the fact is that we have all heard bands we thought would go further, and wonder why they didn’t.
On point, I was recently leafing through some stuff and came across a band name I knew nothing about. They were called the Blue Things from Hays, Kansas, and were around between 1964 and 1968. They recorded one LP and several singles for RCA Records in ’66 and ’67. The consensus on them is that they are remembered as one of the best bands to come out of the Midwest in the 60’s, never got any farther than that and are pretty much unknown anywhere else.
A totally unscientific survey of their popularity can be surmised by having a look at the comments section under any of their several videos posted to Youtube. Clearly, they were, for a brief period of time, very important to a lot of people.
The Wikipedia entry on the Blue Things does a good job of detailing with their rise and fall, changes in labels, changes in membership, and changes in their style of music, so if you’re interested in that sort of thing, you can find it here.
[Their lone album is] still one of the finest overlooked folk-rock records of the 1960s, combining some of the best elements of the Byrds and Beau Brummels in its mid-tempo electric-acoustic arrangements. The 1966 psychedelic single tracks “Orange Rooftop of Your Mind,” “One Hour Cleaners,” and “You Can Live in Our Tree” are also fine cuts that show the band progressing at a furious rate, with psychologically complex lyrics and unusual fuzz and violin-ish distorted guitar textures.
Even before reading Mr. Unterberger’s piece, I listened to several tracks and certainly came away wondering why I had never heard of them. As one commenter under a Youtube clip said about the band’s lack of mainstream success, “Somebody fucked up.” I think that’s about right.
Could have picked any number of cuts, for no particular reason than that I like it, here is “The Orange Rooftop of Your Mind.”
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Yes, a one-hit-wonder. The Elegants were a doo-wop vocal group started in 1958 in Staten Island, New York by Vito Picone, Arthur Venosa, Frank Tardogno, Carmen Romano and James Mochella.This was their hit, written by Venosa and Picone. It spent 19 weeks on the Billboard Hot 100, and achieved gold disc status.
After the song made a splash on radio, the group toured with heavyweights like Buddy Holly, Dion and the Belmonts, Chuck Berry and Jerry Lee Lewis. Must have been fun for these teenagers. But that was it. The beginning and the end. Still, it’s better to be a one-hit-wonder than a no-hit-wonder.
To be fair, it has been claimed that the Elegants refused to pay payola to a prominent New York disc jockey for subsequent recordings, which, in the day, was an important way to get a song on the air. At least they had their integrity.
“Little Star” is a great example of doo wop music.
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Any song with a growling tenor sax will grab my attention. “Jim Dandy” by LaVern Baker (1929-1997) fits the category. It was written by Lincoln Chase (1926-1980) and first recorded by Ms. Baker in 1956. It topped the R&B charts that years and got all the way up to #17 on the pop charts in the U.S.
Chase also wrote “Such A Night,” recorded by Clyde McPhatter and the Drifters, and Elvis, among others, and “The Name Game” recorded by Shirley Ellis. Along with “Jim Dandy,” LaVern Baker had hits with “Tweedle Dee” (1955) and “I Cried a Tear” (1958).
That tenor sax solo on “Jim Dandy” is by Sam “the Man” Taylor (1916-1990). In his long career he worked with a number of jazz and blues heavyweights including Scatman Crothers, Cootie Williams, Lucky Millinder, Cab Calloway, Ray Charles, Buddy Johnson, Louis Jordan, and Big Joe Turner.
“Jim Dandy” was released as a single on the Atlantic label with the song actually credited to LaVern Baker and the Gliders. The Gliders were the Atlantic in-house backing group called at the time the Cues, consisting of Abel DeCosta, Ollie Jones, Edward Barnes, and Winfield Scott.
Another little oddity that I happen to have on vinyl (I doubt it exists anywhere else) is a record by The Halifax Three. The interesting thing about the group is that they featured a young Denny Doherty, who would go on to greater fame with The Mamas and the Papas.
The “Three” recorded a couple of albums in 1963, including the one I have, which is called The Halifax Three. The other is the San Francisco Bay Blues.
Some people remember that there was such a thing called the folk music revival that took place through the ’40s and early ’60s before it was killed by the Beatles, et. al. The Halifax Three were not an insignificant part of that revival. Originally called The Colonials, and from Canada, the members of the trio were Doherty, Pat LaCroix and Richard Byrne. After adding Toronto born Zal Yanovsky, they toured with The Journeymen and played Carnegie Hall.
Upon the demise of The Halifax Three, Doherty and Yanovsky formed The Mugwumps with Cass Elliot and John Sebastian. When that ended, Sebastien and Yanovsky formed The Lovin’ Spoonful. Doherty and Elliot joined Journeyman John Phillips and wife Michelle to form The Mamas & the Papas.
Got it? Little known to many, folk music gave rise to some pretty righteous music we all know as part of that 1960s thing.
Before all of that, there was The Halifax Three, just in case you thought Inside Llewyn Davis was based on something that never happened.
In 2006, Bruce Springsteen released an album called We Shall Overcome: The Seeger Sessions, which consists of 13 songs made popular by folk icon and social activist Pete Seeger (made popular, but not written by Pete, because what is the folk process if not popularizing songs people need to know?).
Perhaps not surprisingly, as an offering by Mr. Springsteen, the album did very well, winning a Grammy Award for Best Traditional Folk Album in 2007, and selling well enough.
Not only does We Shall Overcome feel different than Bruce‘s work; it also feels different than Seeger‘s music. Most of Seeger‘s recordings were spare and simple, featuring just him and his banjo; his most elaborately produced records were with the Weavers, whose recordings of the ’50s did feature orchestration, yet that’s a far cry from the big folk band that Springsteen uses here. Bruce‘s combo for the Seeger sessions has a careening, ramshackle feel that’s equal parts early-’60s hootenanny and Bob Dylan and the Band‘s Americana; at times, its ragged human qualities also recall latter-day Tom Waits, although the music here is nowhere near as self-consciously arty as that. Springsteen has truly used Seeger‘s music as inspiration, using it as the starting point to take him someplace that is uniquely his own in sheer musical terms.
Now that Pete is gone, I hope people give this album another listen. The point of folk music is not simply to repeat what others have done but interpret and inspire. This is exactly what Springsteen has done here.
“(Ghost) Riders in the Sky: A Cowboy Legend” is a cowboy song written in 1948 by American songwriter Stan Jones. A number of versions were cross-over hits on the pop charts in 1949 with Bing Crosby, Burl Ives, Peggy Lee, Spike Jones, and Vaughan Monroe each doing well with it that year.
Over the years more than 50 versions have been released by artists including Frankie Lane, Marty Robbins, Johnny Cash, Sons of the Pioneers, The Ventures, Dean Martin (no kidding) and Elvis Presley.
A particularly odd take had to be Lawrence Welk’s version. What the hell did that sound like? Add to the list Slim Whitman, and let’s not forget the Blues Brothers 2000.
The Vaughan Monroe version first appeared on the Billboard charts on April 15, 1949, lasted 22 weeks, reached No. 1, and was ranked by Billboard as the No. 1 song for 1949. The specific lineup was Vaughn Monroe and His Orchestra with Vaughn Monroe and The Moon Men (Johnny West, Walter Olsen, Bill Mustard and Nace Bernert) on vocals.
Some interesting bits from the website Song Facts are that:
Stan Jones wrote and recorded “Ghost Riders in the Sky” in 1948. He was a forest ranger who wrote songs on the side.
The melody is based on “When Johnny Comes Marching Home.”
The song presents an image of cowboy hell – riders who are doomed to chase the Devil’s cattle for all eternity.
Pretty impressive voice on old Vaughan Monroe.
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“Lonesome Valley” is a traditional American gospel folk song, first recorded in the 1920s. It has for a long time been pretty standard fare for country artists, including the Carter Family early on, and then the Monroe Brothers and the Statler Brothers, among others. Woody Guthrie also famously took a turn.
One of my favourite versions is by Mississippi John Hurt (1883-1966) because I can’t get enough of that particular variant of fingerstyle guitar, and his vocals are so real. Hurt was of course a bluesman from Avalon, Mississippi, who first recorded in the 1920s, though continuing to work as farmer, and then was”discovered” during the folk revival in early 1960s, adding so much to that experience.
As is well known, Elvis liked his gospel music and recorded “Lonesome Valley” a couple of times. It’s interesting to place him side-by-side with the Hurt version, which I do below by the Million Dollar Quartet (Presley, Perkins, Lewis and Cash).
You’ve got to walk that lonesome valley Well you gotta go by yourself Well there ain’t nobody else gonna go there for you You gotta go there by yourself
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For fans of country rock, and I am definitely one, Bustin’ Out, the second album released by Pure Prairie League, is a classic. The odd thing about it is that it was released in 1972 but didn’t get much notice for about three years until country rock and southern rock started to become a thing in the middle of the decade.
The best known song on the LP these days is “Amie,” though originally no one cared, even after it was released as a single in 1973. At some point, however, college radio stations got onto it, major radio station air play followed, and it became something of a classic, always welcome around the campfire.
There is so much to choose from on Bustin’ Out including “Boulder Skies” and “Call Me, Tell Me” with their gorgeous string arrangements, but for some reason “Early Morning Riser” has always been my favourite cut.
For this album, Pure Prairie League was Craig Fuller (bass guitar, electric guitar, vocals), George Ed Powell (electric guitar, vocals) and William Frank Hinds (drums). Also a cast of thousands helped out in the studio, including the aforementioned strings and arranger. Over the 10 album history of the group, and a successful history at that, it’s very difficult to keep track of all the personnel changes, though the quality remained.
Here’s a fun little bit: the band is named after a women’s temperance group in the 1939 Errol Flynn movie Dodge City.
No disrespect to the Eagles, but they weren’t the only ones doing this kind of music, and doing it well in the 1970s and 1980s.
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“I Am a Pilgrim” is a traditional hymn going back to the mid-19th century, first recorded by the Norfolk Jubilee Quartet in 1924, an African-American group, and recorded and performed many times since by gospel, folk, and bluegrass artists.
The song combines elements from an “[o]ld hymn entwined with Poor Wayfaring Stranger (Sacred Harp – 1844). It appears in The Southern Zion’s Songster (1864) and in Hymns For the Camp (1862).” The song references or alludes to several Bible passages, including “If I could touch the hem of his garment” which references Matthew 9:20 where a woman touches the hem of Jesus’ robe and is healed.
The version I post below is by Frank Hamilton (born 1934), an important figure in American folk music as a musician, collector of folk songs, and teacher. He co-founded the Old Town School of Folk in Chicago, and has preformed on a variety of labels, including a brief stint with the Weavers in the post-Pete Seeger period. He also appeared at the first Newport Folk Festival in 1959, a date from which the recording below is taken. Hamilton was in the house band at the Gate of Horn, America’s first folk music nightclub in Chicago. He currently continues to teach music at the Frank Hamilton School in Atlanta, Georgia.
I am a pilgrim and a stranger Traveling through this wearisome land I’ve got a home in that yonder city, good Lord And it’s not, not made by hand
