Frank's Jukebox, Bop Street (2024)

12/06/2024

Today’s single sat in one of my boxes of to-be-played items for several months. I got it for free and had grave doubts that it would track through all the way. I picked it up, considered its condition and put it back in the box. The other day, I decided to give it a try. I cleaned it several times and removed layers of what appeared to be mud from both sides. This poor record was not treated with TLC in its former life. It’s never too late to be nice, and to my surprise, the thing played—with a lot of crackle, due to thousands of small scuffs and light-to-medium scratches on its playing surfaces.

This record is what we call a “beater”—and some pressings can take a lickin’ and keep on playin’ (and tickin’, thanx to all those pockmarks). This vinyl Vee Jay record still produces music 59 years after its release. Thanks to the invaluable audio restoration software ClickRepair, I got the lion’s share of detritus out of the digital recordings. Some light gravel remains, but it’s better to err on the side of leaving some rumble in. This is a solid item by Vee Jay’s premiere female soul vocalist, and we haven’t played much of Betty Everett here, so I think it’s a welcome entity. Here we go…

“It Hurts to Be in Love” is not the Gene Pitney song, but an item co-written by Rudy Toombs and Julius Dixon. This swinging mid-tempo item has what sounds like twin Betties—it might be the singer overdubbed in a self-duet. The marimba that decorated her big pop hit “The Shoop Shoop Song (It’s in His Kiss)” is present in a nice bit of consistency.

This strutting Chicago soul sw***er reminds of Ray Charles’ sound, but has that unmistakable Windy City vibe. Listening to this cleaned-up version again, I’m amazed at how much audio crud was successfully removed from the original snap-crackle-pop!

https://mega.nz/file/6wxEBDDK -ybjjUmicSPnkttX5uU1j61iEB3pt10CVta33yRD8

“Until You Were Gone” is the better side. It’s another fine song by Joy Byers. More layered background harmonies might mean there was a femme vocal chorus in the studio. Their overlapping “bom-bom-bom”s are impressive—as is Betty’s hurt, intense vocal stand on a seldom-heard soulful episode in her colorful musical career. Alas, neither side of this summer of 1964 record charted. She had two top 10 singles—“Shoop” and a duet with fellow Vee Jay star Jerry Butler on “Let It Be Me”—so she could afford the occasional miss.

https://mega.nz/file/W0Z3CJKJ

Due to schedule constraints, this is a quickie today. Tomorrow we’ll hear one of New Orleans teen idol Jimmy Clanton’s best singles for Ace Records—two sides from his kooky-but-endearing 1959 film “Go Johnny Go.”

11/06/2024

On the week of my birth, the #1 record on the charts was “He’s So Fine” by Black girl group The Chiffons. New that week was a promising disc by an up-and-coming singer/songwriter who’d achieve her greatest success singing other people’s songs. Two years before she had a global smash with Burt Bacharach’s “What the World Needs Now,” she recorded two fine songs by her LA music colleagues Jack Nitzsche, Sonny Bono and Randy Newman for a Liberty Records release that had all the earmarks of a hit.

It did meh; “Cash Box” had it on the lower end of their Top 60; “Billboard” showed it on the bottom rungs of their Hot 100. Within a year, Liverpool beat group The Searchers made it a chart-topper in the UK ( #13 in the US) in a performance that was a template for the forthcoming folk-rock sound. “Needles and Pins,” in The Searchers’ version, remains a familiar song, but outside of music obsessives, few have heard Jackie deShannon’s original. I recently acquired a serviceable white label promo copy of this record and I thought it might be fun to have something recognizable here for a change.

Jackie’s tough, intense double-tracked vocal, framed by strummed acoustic guitars, percussion and piano, via Jack Nitzsche’s epic arrangement, leaves the Liverpool lads in the All-American dust. (Nothing’s wrong with their version, save their hesitance to break into harmony until the last chorus, and their amusing pronounciation of “hurtin’ her” as “ed-da-na.”)

It’s not a Wall of Sound production, but it employs many of the touches heard on Nitzsche’s arrangements for producer Phil Spector, and it sure sounds like a hit. It was, kinda-sorta, but it took a transatlantic regurgitation to get it to register with Americans.

A decade-ish later, seminal punk rockers The Ramones did a cover version faithful to deShannon’s as a replacement for a banned track on their second LP, “Leave Home.” Thus, a new generation got to know this classic song.

https://mega.nz/file/Dgon2aAA

I’m not a big fan of Randy Newman’s later work, but I do admire his 1960s material. “Did He Call Today, Mama?” gets another fine arrangement by Jack Nitzsche. Ditto for the assured, emotional stand by our esteemed vocalist. It’s possible the backing femme choir on both sides is The Blossoms, who did a lot of LA studio work at this time.

This more traditional girl-group item teems with adolescent angst and is not ironic, smug or smarmy in the least. It’s surprising to encounter Newman’s early catalog; the absence of everything I dislike about his acclaimed period is striking. He was known to his colleagues as a rather brusque, dismissive person; he might also aid a budding songwriter with free counsel, as he did to Jeannie Seely, a secretary for Newman (and deShannon’s) publisher, Metric Music, who’d realized the potential for a song in an ad for panty hose. Newman encountered her fiddling around on a piano in the office, was intrigued, and offered some advice that led to “Anyone Who Knows What Love Is (Will Understand),” a classic 1964 recording by Irma Thomas.

https://mega.nz/file/O8QRkDTC

Jackie’s follow-up single, “When You Walk in the Room” (her own composition), fared worse in the US market than “Needles and Pins,” but, once again, was made a global hit by The Searchers. DeShannon is still with us and remains one of the best rock songwriters of the 1960s.

Tomorrow: Betty Everett returns with a record that looks like it has been through several wars but still plays well! A fine Vee Jay single from 1964.

10/06/2024

Here’s a great record created under the most cynical music-biz circumstances. Its sheer power and quality outshines the petty story behind its making. It all begins with a pioneering rock ‘n’ roll group I don’t care much for. The Jodimars are best-known today for “Clarabella,” a non-hit recording by them that The Beatles covered for one of their BBC broadcasts. The group’s key members were former Comets in the employ of country-rock bandleader Bill Haley, he of “Rock Around the Clock” fame. They split because they felt they weren’t getting paid what they were worth.

Capitol Records, eager to get a piece of the rock ‘n’ roll pie, signed them immediately. They recorded for Capitol for three years. I kinda-sorta like a couple of their records, but they suffer from that stiff, tense affect of a lot of early rock ‘n’ roll, as practiced by those who weren’t truly hep to the jive. Their records obviously appealed to some listeners; Capitol put out six singles on them. Once they left Capitol, Lew Chudd at Imperial Records expressed interest in signing them. Trouble was, the group had decided to split up. One Jodimar, Marshall Lytle, recorded four numbers with Chudd’s house band, which included guitarist Joe Maphis. This ad-hoc group recorded demos of four new songs penned by Memphis rockabilly siblings Johnny and Dorsey Burnette. These recordings, unissued until the 1990s, sounded good to all parties concerned.

But…one of Imperial’s star artists, teen pop-rocker Ricky Nelson, had first dibs on all Burnette songs. Lytle, when interviewed, said he felt that Ricky’s dad, swing-era bandleader Ozzie Nelson, told Chudd not to release the Jodimars tracks. He didn’t want another white rock ‘n’ roll outfit to compete with his boy’s hit records. If so, one might guess that Nelson got to do his own renditions of these songs. Instead, Lew Chudd approached veteran r&b vocalist Roy Brown with the material. Hey, Roy…I know this isn’t exactly your usual stuff, but the kids might go for ‘em. Whaddaya say, Mr. B. Le’s try ‘em, okay?

Thus, middle-aged Roy Brown, who had recently done a cover version of Buddy’s Knox’s hit record “Party Doll” alongside a slew of New Orleans-recorded sides with Dave Bartholomew, stepped into the then-hot rockabilly sound for one of his least typical platters.

This rare disc is coveted by collectors. I knew of it but didn’t think I’d ever come across a copy. I encounter a LOT of copies of his version of “Let the Four Winds Blow” on Imperial. When today’s record, an un-played 1958 stock copy, showed up in a batch of three singles all shrink-wrapped for three bucks, I did a double-take and then went to the checkout counter. The other two records? Common B. J. Thomas styrene singles for Scepter Records. Those went in the discard pile.

“Hip Shakin’ Baby:” you might want to sit down, or grab hold of something solid before you hit PLAY. Brown sings like a man possessed on one of the hardest-rocking sides of 1958. The band, whomever they are, play with a manic drive that can peel the paint off the walls. Brown delivers a feverish stand, abetted by perfect reverb, on this 100 MPH mover that left no apparent impact on the hit parade. I’m sure in-the-know teens and r&b fans found this record and dug it, but it was such genuine rock ‘n’ roll, by one of the pioneers of the sound, that it might have felt threatening. I don’t imagine Ricky Nelson fans queued up to buy this from their neighborhood record shop.

https://mega.nz/file/SgJk1YBK

“Be My Love Tonight” is a mid-tempo type of pop-rock song taken at twice its typical speed by the insane band. The guitarist takes a long solo on this zippy side. I wonder if that might be James Burton—and if this is Ricky Nelson’s band, or some aggregation of LA talent that includes Burton, backing up Brown here?

This thing is a real surprise: most performers would have opted for an easy-going lope and the Dread Chorus, sheet music on hand, ready to ruin an otherwise good record, might have been employed. None of that nonsense for Roy and his compadres! He sounds like he’s having a blast fronting this wildfire band and the good energy is impossible to ignore or resist. Cut a rug to this one!

https://mega.nz/file/T85TBCZb

I hope this double-shot of adrenalin helps get your new week off to a fine start!

Tomorrow: the original version of a song that was a flop but went to #1 on the charts via a UK cover version a year later and has become a rock ‘n’ roll standard. You can probably figure out what the record is. From a vinyl promo copy instead of the styrene commercial versions of 1963.

09/06/2024

Soulful Sunday offers a magnificent mystery for lovely listening. Who in the heck was Magica Brown? There is zero info on this one-record wonder whose powerful 20th-Century Fox single came out in the last week of 1964. Dead on arrival, its two first-rate sides have caused some collectors to wonder if this was a pseudonym for a better-known singer. Could be. She could also be one of the thousands of recording artists who came and went without a trace in the hardest year for American vernacular music. 1964 was The Beatles’ year, and Motown’s year. The ascendance of these two musical giants had the industry scrambling for soundalikes they might exploit. Though as many American acts—sometimes far more—charted as did the British invaders, the market was overcrowded with potential stars and no one had the time or patience to winnow through them all and nurture the obvious stand-outs.

You’ve heard this many times before here, and it’s an unspoken part of the history of American popular music. I champion the cause of these forgotten talents and I hope that, by giving them new exposure, at least a few people will acknowledge their existence and agree that they left a tiny but indelible mark on the tower of song, to quote Leonard Cohen (something I seldom do).

Both songs on this rare 45 were co-written by Gregory Carroll, who was associated with Doris Payne—or Doris Troy, as she was better-known. Ms. Payne’s credit is absent from these two sides. Kelly Owens was a bandleader and arranger whom Savoy Records’ Fred Mendelsohn used constantly on his group of labels. The third name, Catherine Thomas, has no other evident songwriting credits. It's possible she was Magica Brown, but that’s only a guess. Carroll produced these two sides, which capture Black music as it morphed into soul from rhythm and blues. Most impressive is its refusal to sound like Motown.

“A Whole Lotta Lovin’ Left in Me” most certainly has Doris Troy as one of the background singers; that was her steady gig in the New York music scene. And while this sounds somewhat like the records Mary Wells made for 20th-Century at the time, it avoids the melodic characteristics of the Motown songwriters. This is a girl-group record, thanks to the boisterous femme choir, whose excited doo-doo-doos threaten to distort the record, with that sense of what would soon be called soul present in the room.

https://mega.nz/file/noRByITT -R7a2ZbTcMstnru09HiGzS77jMQ00

“I Won’t Be Back” is the superior flip-side. This is out-and-out soul, with a bluesy melody, flavors of New Orleans and Muscle Shoals and a more crisp, direct approach. Ms. Brown kills on this kiss-off classic, accompanied by a blues guitarist who uses a tone pedal (precursor to the ubiquitous wah-wah of the ‘70s) to enhance their fine solo.

If someone were to ask me how to tell the difference between r&b and soul, I’d play them the two sides of this record. Here the transition is keenly felt. “I Won’t Be Back” is so good that its obscurity, beyond a handful of collectors, is astounding. This is as good an example of early soul as you’d ever hope to find, and it sounds like a hit to me. It might have been a year or two ahead of its time. Alas, there was no second chance for Ms. Brown, whomever she might be.

https://mega.nz/file/KoBxhYJK

For the five people who might be interested, I’ve been working on a book devoted to one-record wonders, and this single will be discussed therein. There are so many to choose from in this era of recorded music—voices that deserve to be heard and appreciated.

Tomorrow: Roy Brown! Johnny and Dorsey Burnette! And I found this mint 1958 Imperial single in a dollar bin! It’s a wow!

08/06/2024

The Caravelles were two English shopgirls who sang in pixie-dust harmony style and penned songs. They caught the attention of independent producer Harry Robinson, who got them signed to Decca Records for a series of singles (and one LP) that bore the Ritz Records logo. Ritz was run by Bunny Lewis, who licensed material to Decca until 1964; he switched to Fontana, a subsidiary of Philips, afterwards. Robinson was Lewis' preferred producer/arranger.

The duo hit big with a revival of Ernest Tubb’s 1950 country hit “You Don’t Have to Be a Baby to Cry,” which producer Robinson gave an airy, spectral and fragile sound that was the opposite of rival indie man Joe Meek’s: it felt like it would crumble if you touched it.

Its ephemeral charms reached across the ocean to the US, where it was among the few pre-Beatle UK recordings to get onto the pop charts. It did better here ( #3) than on the group’s home turf ( #6). Both releases inspired the rush-issue of an accompanying LP. The girls’ magnificent original “Forever” was a highlight of both albums; the America LP included an exclusive track, “I Was Wrong,” that is among Lois Wilkinson and Andrea Simpson’s best songwriting efforts.

The fad-crazy bent of Space Age America meant a notoriously short attention span. The Caravelles’ follow-up, “Have You Ever Been Lonely,” barely grazed the lowest hem of the Hot 100. The girls were one-hit wonders; none of their other records charted in the UK. On the strength of that global Top 10 smash, UK Decca (and then Fontana) stuck with them. As beat music became a longer-lasting global phenom, The Caravelles’ music changed with the times. Their eerie close-harmony style prevailed, but the material moved along with new styles and tastes.

That said, Simpson and Wilkinson jumped the shark in a wonderful way with “How Can I Be Sure,” one half of a non-charted, ignored-when-new single issued, as were their other US releases, on Mercury’s Smash imprint. It is one of the oddest records I know of from this era, and, as with the films of Edward D. Wood, Jr., I am overjoyed that it got to be made and heard. It’s always a magical event when a person or persons takes common tools of mass-media creation and achieves such peculiar, skewed results.

Most records like this, in the UK, relied on a talent pool of London-based musicians. Like the US equivalents, they were hired because they could come in cold, with no prior knowledge of the material, and improvise a competent-to-inspired backing track. Here’s a marvelous moment when a session guitarist tries to navigate a tangle of bizarro chord changes. Without meaning to do so, The Caravelles anticipate the New Wave-era sounds of The B52’s and other groups in this beguiling song of romantic uncertainty.

The daft chord changes help to stir up that feeling of tension and confusion that accompanies falling in love or succumbing to a romantic crush. The girls know their song well and sing it with weird authority; when it comes time for the obligatory guitar break, our nameless six-stringer struggles to come up with anything that fits the gonzo chords thrown at him. To his credit, he doesn’t crash and burn, but by the end of his solo, he’s clearly fed up with the whole affair.

It is wonderful that such an out-there song was recorded, released and marketed by its manufacturers. And, as well, that the “Cash Box” reviewer displayed no hint of the what-in-the-?!? affect of this one-of-a-kind song.

https://mega.nz/file/Hg5HjYyI

“You Are Here” is a retooled version of “Winter is Here,” originally recorded by US solo vocalist Robin Ward for Dot Records earlier in 1964, the song must have caught someone’s hear, since Ward’s single had no UK issue. The change in the lyrics might have ticked off composers Gil Garfield and Perry Botkin, Jr., but it makes the song more intimate and personal, and an elegant arrangement with strings shows that Harry Robinson wasn’t just a novelty-leaning eccentric.

This was, obviously, the A-side, and it’s a fine example of playing it straight. But given how authentic the B-side feels, I can’t help but wonder if the girls weren’t more comfortable going off-course. They do well in both guises; their breathy vocal style made a comeback in this century and thus make these sides sound more modern than they might otherwise.

https://mega.nz/file/HoY2wBAL -_AFZmDc5GsjR5oQUJeW9IU

For those so intrigued, RPM Records in the UK issued a complete CD collection of The Caravelles' recordings in 2011. I'm sure it's still available, and you need it just to have "Forever" at your fingertips.

Tomorrow: Another ’64 flop for Soulful Sunday: the lone single of Magica Brown, who knocks ‘em outta the ballpark on a powerful 20th Century Fox twin-spin.

07/06/2024

Yet another great group from Cleveland, Ohio, Angelo and The Initials made their final single under this name; their two earlier efforts were as just The Initials. Their sound has been described as “…greaser rock style with harmony vocals.” This makes them sound as appetizing as cafeteria macaroni and cheese that’s sat under a heat lamp for three hours.

This unheralded single is a fine example of homegrown rock ‘n’ roll, defiant in the face of the myriad British invaders and determined to keep the spirit alive and well—if anyone cared to listen. Lead vocalist Angelo Orteca fronted a solid Midwestern rock ‘n’ roll band who sang impressive harmonies. They ventured to New York to record for Congress Records. This meant an encounter with Bryan “Hutch” Davie, one of the most eccentric arrangers in popular music. He worked with cult r&b vocalist James Ray, who had two big hits and a third mild success in 1962/63. Davie loved the tuba, and never hesitated to throw it into his zany soundscapes.

After two singles in this fashion, it’s possible the band complained. For their final deck—a record designed to take the British groups head-on—they got a different producer and a pair of strong songs penned by Congress’ house writers Freddie Briggs and Johnny Northern. The results of this last stand are so good it’s hard to believe they didn’t click with the public. Let’s give them some belated attention.

“Someday She’ll Love Me” reminds me of many UK beat-group singles that also weren’t hits—in particular, one-shot stands where the performers tried to make a good impression on the producers and executives, in the hopes that they’d (a) publicize and (b) promote their single. This seldom happened; the usual result was (c) you later, alligator. The urgency of this song’s performance by all parties is impossible to ignore. They mean business, these Initials. It’s a solid song, as well. There was just too much competition in an unfair marketplace. Congress Records wasn’t a big enough name to have more than the occasional hit. Their current hit-maker was black chanteuse Shirley Ellis, who had a couple of novelty charters that were beneath her talents. But a hit is a hit—the one thing these guys so wanted and so couldn’t achieve, talent be damned.

https://mega.nz/file/Kwo1GZ6Y -n5xXs7E

If The Ramones had existed in 1964, their records might have sounded something like “I Should Have Listened,” my fave of the two fine sides. This sad story of an oblivious male who realizes his loss a little too late, it boasts a moody melody, a sax solo and Angelo’s sympathetic, impassioned vocal on a haunting piece that sounds like something worthy of our notice. It was just another B-side on just another record nobody was interested in hearing in a music-mad year of change.

https://mega.nz/file/foYTGLpI -HO0faDIRi9eUy17NnEtXFOpZ5zJjYwrK34

The group appears to have disbanded after the no-go action on this final stand. Angelo was later the owner of a Cleveland night spot called Fat Albert’s; he passed on in 1999 in his mid-1950s. You can find a picture of his gravestone on the Internet, but zero solid information about him. If he had an obituary, it isn’t easily accessed; it’s probably available on newspapers dot com, which I don’t currently subscribe to.

Tomorrow: brace yourself for the bizarro sounds of The Caravelles. Hear them confound a jaded studio guitarist with their near-atonal original beat-ballad and then croon a dignified cover of a US girl-group classic. Something different from 1964!

06/06/2024

Jerry Leiber and Mike Stoller wrote a fat stack of songs. Some of them never clicked with the public; a few were recorded by never released until much later. Here are two songs by them that you’ve probably never heard.

Up first is uptown r&b/pop crooner Sammy Turner, whose Bigtop singles litter chud piles everywhere. A couple of them are pretty good records, and one of the hardest to find contains the lone commercial release (in its day) of “Falling,” a song L & S wrote and produced for Varetta Dillard in 1956. Her versions didn’t see the light of day until Bear Family Records issued two long out-of-print CDs of her work in the late 1980s.

In this period, Leiber and Stoller tried to break into the mainstream pop market—which they’d soon do with Elvis Presley. Thus, they penned songs like “Lucky Lips,” which was a hit for Ruth Brown, and “Falling,” which feels like a Nat “King” Cole single that never was. Jerry Leiber couldn’t not write a memorable lyric, and his openness distinguishes an otherwise run-of-the-mill account of romantic bewilderment. Sammy Turner gives the song his all, with a gospel-style femme choir and violent violins in support. Mike Stoller’s melody is far better than the usual mainstream pop tune. Varetta Dillard’s versions remain the best, but Turner’s rendition is no slouch. It’s a Leiber-Stoller production as well.

https://mega.nz/file/fx4zQKga -_nreMOpnuQ

Baby Jane and The Rockabyes were a Black girl group who got into the national Hot 100 with a New Orleans-flavored revival of the ‘50s pop hit “How Much is That Doggie in the Window?” On the flip of this United Artists single is “My Boy John.” Hoo boy.

It’s “I Got a Woman,” the Ray Charles hit of 1955, which was an amalgam of two songs Charles and his band heard as they toured the deep south—a spiritual called “It Must Be Jesus” by The Royal Tones and one section of bluesman Big Bill Broonzy’s “Living on Easy Street.” With the help of Renald Richard, Charles’ trumpet man in his band, the main body of the song was secularized, while the almost patter-like rhythms from Broonzy’s recording created a memorable bridge.

This might have been an in-joke directed at Charles, or a dig at Atlantic Records’ Ahmet Ertegun and Jerry Wexler, with whom L & S had a contentious relationship—mostly because they kept asking for royalty payments from their hit writing and production work for the label. (These are just wild guesses.) Most likely, this B-side was a goof generated to supply a flip to a potential hit.

The girls sing it with real feeling, and Leiber’s lyrics have his usual level of colorful detail and wit. It was ballsy for the two to give themselves dual credit as composers, but an example had been set many times for this practice, and no one was harmed as a result.

The record label contains this confusing declaration: A LEIBER-STOLLER PRODUCTION/Directed by Bert Berns. I think that means that Berns, another major member of the New York talent pool, “worked the floor” with the performers while L & S stayed in the control booth, twiddling k***s and such.

https://mega.nz/file/z0AhjbyJ

And there ya have it!

Tomorrow: beginning a streak of 1964 chart failures—the last and best single by Angelo and The Initials. Powerful home-grown rock ‘n’ roll that no one’s ever heard. Don’t miss this one!

05/06/2024

The Cadillacs have a consistently good string of singles; anytime I find one I don’t have, I buy it. Today’s 45 is one I’ve wanted by this group for years. In the downright bizarre/wonderful 1959 film “Go Johnny Go,” the group performs the A-side of this record in a priceless example of their stage choreography.*

Both sides are equally good, and both feature guitarist George Barnes, of whom I’ve written in the recent past. I’m going to be lazy today and lean on an excellent introduction to this group, excerpted from the Bear Family Records 4-CD box set they did on The Cadillacs, here: https://www.bear-family.com/cadillacs-the/

Today’s record was The Cadillacs’ 18th single for Josie Records, and was released in the spring of 1959. They’d have four more Josie singles before their contract lapsed. They appear to have studied what The Coasters were doing and figured out their own spin in that teen-centric angle. “Please Mr. Johnson” is the sad story of two teenagers pleading with a gruff retailer to let them avail themselves of snacks galore in exchange for doing chores, minding the till (yeah, right) and “helping.”

Mr. Johnson, who is played by two voices (a weird touch in the video version), will have none of this plan. These moochers have freeloaded for too long. To the Mr. Johnsons of the world, these teenage eating machines are a menace to the livelihood of their business. Anything that isn’t nailed down will be consumed as if by osmosis. Mr. Johnson much prefers the elderly women who dawdle in the aisles, squeezing loaves of bread and fondling avocados. At least they’re cash customers.

George Barnes and producer Billy Mure play a solid guitar riff in tandem, and their energy seems to inspire The Cadillacs to put their shoulders into this neighborhood comedy. The band is sharp as a razor, including a sax solo I can’t ID. Over and done in 2:01!

https://mega.nz/file/z1oSjAKC -IpR5gU

“Cool it Fool” was penned by Jack Hammer, professional name of Earl Solomon Burroughs. His most famous song is “Whole Lotta Shakin’ Goin’ On,” which was first recorded by r&b star Big Maybelle before Jerry Lee Lewis made it a rock ‘n’ roll classic. (The song got a makeover from fellow r&b cleffer Otis Blackwell, but Hammer/Burroughs got to enjoy half of the royalties for the rest of his days.)

With its memorable doo-wop mantra, “Oop-chalada/nyeh nyeh nyeh nyeh nyeh,” this is another comedic tale of teen misfortune, as the narrator attempts to gain the favor of every girl he encounters. His skills still need considerable work, but he seems to take it all in stride. Two of The Cadillacs continue the character bit; instead of gruff grocers they portray rightfully offended young women, who admonish the amorous buffoon with the song’s title.

The guitar sound of this single was Billy Mure’s trademark. He made several LPs in the general Les Paul style, but with massed guitars playing in unison and in harmony. George Barnes was certainly prominent on those recordings and his nimble fingers and keen ear were an asset to any record he sat in on, including this one.

https://mega.nz/file/68oyBZwR

This is one of the group’s harder records to find. The copy I recently acquired looks terrible but plays fine. It never fails to impress me how seven-inch records can take so much mistreatment but still function well. It helps when they’re made of good quality vinyl, as were many of these Josie Records releases.

BTW, Bear Family has a great 34-track CD comp of The Cadillacs that’s well worth picking up. There’s a link to it in that webpage shared above. If you like these two sides, get that CD!

Tomorrow: two songs by Leiber and Stoller that few have heard—including one piece of impressive plagiarism!

* Here is a blurry version of the film excerpt. I have a much better version that I need to upload to YouTube. For now: https://youtu.be/NkYSrYAwzmU

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