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Archive for the ‘Song IDs’ Category

Song ID: The Hollies – “After the Fox” (1966)

Thursday, March 26th, 2015

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One of the less familiar Burt Bacharach/Hal David movie themes. Featuring harpsichord and sneaky chord changes, it appeared the year after What’s New Pussycat. It plays during a candy-colored animated intro and includes comical interjections by leading man Peter Sellers in between the Hollies’ lead vocals. More appreciated today than in 1966, the After the Fox movie serves as a cineaste’s field day with its numerous industry in-jokes.

The Hollies (with Peter Sellers) – “After the Fox” (1966)

Song IDs: The Benson & Hedges Jingle Singles

Thursday, February 26th, 2015

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A 1966-67 TV ad campaign for Benson & Hedges 100’s focused on the extra long cigarettes’ disadvantages, making for situational giggles. The commercial was popular enough for the alluring musical backdrop to get some airplay on its own. Written by Mitch Leigh, the same man who scored the Man of La Mancha musical, the genuine as-heard-on-television article made enough noise in Cleveland to chart locally and to get listed in a 2/11/67 issue of Billboard as a potential breakout hit. This record was credited to The Answer on the red Columbia label, and the arrangers are listed as “Music Makers,” aka Leigh’s own production house. (Joel Whitburn’s Top Pop Singles erroneously cites Bill Dean and John Campbell as the songwriters.) Another arrangement of this song, by Phil Bodner’s studio assembly the Brass Ring, entered the charts a week earlier on the Dunhill label with the hyphenated title “The Dis-Advantages of You” (and an arrangement of the “Dating Game” theme on side B). Peaking at #36, it outpaced the original as a full-blown Top 40 hit.

The Answer – “The Disadvantages of You” (1967)
The Brass Ring – “The Dis-Advantages of You” (1967)

Song ID: Devo – “Shrivel Up” (1977)

Thursday, February 5th, 2015

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The proudly atonal guitar refrain endeared this one to some friends and me who were making plenty of atonal music not to be proud of. We also enjoyed the title’s anti-erection implications, spoken on the record as though it were part of a TV ad. “Shrivel up!” someone usually said whenever something disappointing happened.

Devo – “Shrivel Up” (1977)

Song ID: The Beach Boys – “Shut Down” (1963)

Monday, December 15th, 2014

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Little Deuce Coupe was the first record I ever owned. Dad, a California native, brought it home from a thrift store where he’d been looking for something else. He presented it to me and told me the names of all the band members, who were dressed as though ready for church. As it played, he also explained car culture terminology. To “shut down” a guy was to smoke him in a hot rod race. This was exotic info for a first grader.

The  Beach Boys – “Shut Down” (1963)

Song ID: Status Quo – “Drifting Away” (1974)

Thursday, December 11th, 2014

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The post-psychedelic version of Status Quo (pronounced “Stay-tus” in the UK) distinguished itself by a deep commitment to shallow boogie rock. I listen to this song, the last one on their 1974 self-titled album, and imagine how it would be if the lyrics delivered some arcane information, like the story of a 16th century Third World uprising. But it’s OK that they don’t.

Status Quo – “Drifting Away” (1974)

Song ID: The Beatles – “Across the Universe” (1968)

Monday, December 8th, 2014

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What springs to mind when this Let It Be song plays: 1) Its spiritual poetics, as if it were a hymn to Lennon’s imaginative Ono and her home continent’s mystic heritage; 2) evidence that the Maharishi era enhanced the Beatles’ artistry; and 3) that Lennon was a craftsman to the core.

Some Beatle versions you can choose from: 1) The official Let It Be one with Phil Spector’s overzealous angels; 2) the earlier version (on Past Masters) with bumble bees and horses; 3) The Anthology version where Lennon has trouble controlling his breath; and 4) the Let It Be Naked version, which is possibly the best one, although it omits the ascending eight notes reinforcing the outro on the familiar Spector version. Sigh.

Recently my teenage son asked me about the 1998 movie Pleasantville and I couldn’t quite articulate why my memories of it were so negative. So we watched it and near the end I thought, well that wasn’t so bad. Then Fiona Apple started up her moaning sick-bed rendition of “Across the Universe” and my memories made sense.

The Beatles – “Across the Universe” (1970)

Song ID: Hedva and David – “Naomi No Yume” (1970)

Saturday, April 26th, 2014

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In 1970 this Israeli duo (Hedva Amrani and David Rosenthal) entered their single “Ani Cholem Al Naomi” (“I Dream of Naomi”) in Tokyo’s Yamaha Song Festival and won first prize. They entered with a Japanese version, though, which subsequently sold close to a million copies.  If you let this sticky song run through your mind long enough, it might morph into the Association’s “Along Comes Mary” or the Zombies’ “She’s Not There.”

 

“Ani Cholem Al Naomi” – Hedva and David (Hebrew)

“Naomi No Yume” – Hedva and David (Japanese)

“I Dream of Naomi” – Hedva and David (English)

Song IDs: Two “Ooh Ooh” songs

Tuesday, February 18th, 2014

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“Ooh Ooh” and “Do you mind?” were catchphrases for Joe E. Ross on Car 54, Where Are You? (1961-1963), a sitcom I first saw on Nick at Nite during the mid-80s. Not only is it a real hoot, but it’s also like “character actors on parade,” with each player specializing in facial distinctions that make it hard for viewers to turn away. Fred Gwynne and Al Lewis of The Munsters are here, for example, each of whom actually look more interesting without their makeup. Joe E. Ross, who played the dimwitted but loveable officer Gunther Toody, might also have transitioned nicely to The Munsters, but he was apparently a severe headache to work with. (A recent WFMU writeup deals the man’s loveability a body blow.)

A 1963 single featuring Joe E. Ross’s catchphrases is notable in that it’s so annoying it could have been used for a riotous episode in which Toody launches an ill-advised recording career.  An album track by the suave jazz vibraphonist Milt Jackson, on the other hand (written by Manny Albam), is notable for its mysterious inclusion on Jackson’s 1964 Jazz ‘N’ Samba album a year after the show had run its course. There’s gotta be a story there…

Joe E. Ross – “Ooh Ooh” (1963) (YouTube)

Milt Jackson – “The Oo-Oo Bossa Nova” (1964)

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Song ID: Sopwith Camel – “Fazon” (1973)

Friday, November 15th, 2013

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I checked out Jonathan Wilson’s new Fanfare album and liked its early ’70s California vibe. It should have had a gatefold including black and white/sepia pics of all the Laurel Canyon musicians involved for listeners to hold in their hands a la Deja Vu or If I Could Only Remember My Name. The biggest treat for me was Wilson’s cover of the San Francisco band Sopwith Camel’s “Fazon.” I knew this song from the 1973 Miraculous Hump Returns from the Moon record a friend gave me in the summer of ’85 – he’d found it in a stash of LPs his long-deceased uncle had left in his family’s basement. It became my most-played nighttime record that summer and whenever I’d look up at the night sky the swirling guitar chords that open up “Fazon” would play in my head.

Later that summer I took a trip to San Francisco to visit my Grandmother who lived on Geary Street and found a copy of the Camel’s self-titled 1967 album at a used record store on Polk Street. The man at the cash register had a walrus moustache and looked at the record for a longish moment. “This was an underrated band,” he said quietly, then took out the disk so we could listen to “Cellophane Woman.” I later taught myself a ragtime guitar version of “Hello Hello” and dug up a 45 of that song for its Byrdsy non-album B-side “Treadin’.” (Sopwith Camel only released two albums – the one from ’67 on Kama Sutra and a revival album on Reprise in ’73.)

I once had a conversation with Camel drummer Norm Mayell, who told me that one of the group’s first early advocates happened to be a guy with a walrus moustache who ran a used record store on Polk Street (no joke). He also told me that the “Fazon” incarnation of the band unraveled en route to a gig they were supposed to play with BJ Thomas in my present hometown of Austin, Texas. “We were leaving Palm Beach, Florida, because a concert with Sly Stone fell through and we were scheduled to play on the Midnight Special,” he said. “So a stop in Austin would be good preparation according to our manager Bob Cavalo (Little Feat, John Sebastian, Earth Wind and Fire).”

Austin, it turns out, is where the Camel’s second incarnation ran out of gas. The roadie and a band member, who were heroin buddies, were supposedly driving the van with all of the tour equipment up from Florida while the rest of the band waited in Austin. Eventually the manager got a phone call reporting that the “van had caught fire and all the equipment had burned on the freeway,” says Norm. In truth, the heroin buddies had been pawning all the gear, some of which had turned up in Macon, Georgia, where the group had played its last gig. It was a “gut punch,” as he put it, that did the Camel in. Norm, at least, could take comfort in the success he’d been having as the drummer for – and percentage holder of – Norman Greenbaum’s monster hit “Spirit in the Sky.”

Norm currently maintains the official Sopwith Camel website, where loads of memorabilia can be taken in, along with info about the newly reformed group’s live performances around the Bay area. Best of all, you can get your own copy of the remastered Miraculous Hump Returns from the Moon album and experience its time-tested ability to get inside people’s heads.

Sopwith Camel, “Fazon” (1973) (YouTube)

Jonathan Wilson, “Fazon” (2013) (Soundcloud)

Song ID: Jerry Wallace’s Night Gallery hit

Saturday, July 20th, 2013

screen-shot-2013-09-02-at-92411-pmI’ve been watching reruns of Rod Serling’s Night Gallery on MeTV. This was an early ’70s series that ran for three seasons and had a format similar to the Twilight Zone, with Serling as the host introducing creepy tales with twist endings. Each episode featured a corresponding painting in keeping with the “gallery” theme and fright factors that were more heavy-handed than in the Twilight Zone.

I finally got to see an episode called “The Tune in Dan’s Cafe” (painting on left), which I had known spawned the Jerry Wallace 1972 country #1 hit “If You Leave Me Tonight I’ll Cry.”  The episode told the story of a jukebox that played the same record over and over again due to its being haunted by the ghost of a jilted lover. After the episode ran in January of ’72, apparently, radio stations received enough requests for the nonexistent record to prompt an official release by studio vocalist Wallace, who’d had moderate pop chart success until the mid-sixties, when he’d shifted gears to country.

I’ve never much liked this Wallace record, being the kind of overwrought schmaltz country radio had more than its share of in the early ’70s.  When I saw the episode, though, I realized that the TV version is better, having a harder country sound.  Would listener demand for the song have been so strong if the TV version had been as goopy as the official release? Well, probably. Try as I might to decipher why songs become popular, sometimes melodies just get stuck in people’s heads.

Read more at Early ’70s Radio

Jerry Wallace – “If You Leave Me Tonight I’ll Cry” (Night Gallery TV excerpt) (1972)

Jerry Wallace – “If You Leave Me Tonight I’ll Cry” (hit record excerpt) (1972)