THE GREATEST SONGS OF THE 1960s THAT NO ONE HAS EVER HEARD
1,207)Joe Bataan — “Make Me Smile”
Joe Bataan (see #55, 339) takes a #9 hit by Chicago and turns it into a swinging and joyous Latin romp.
Richard Pierson tells us about Joe:
Born Peter Nitollano, of African-American/Filipino parents, Joe Bataan grew up in Spanish Harlem, where he ran with Puerto Rican gangs and absorbed R&B, Afro-Cuban, and Afro-Rican musical influences. . . . Self-taught on the piano, he organized his first band in 1965 and scored his first recording success in 1967 with âGypsy Womanâ on Fania Records. The tune was a hit with the New York Latin market despite its English lyrics . . . and exemplified the nascent Latin soul sound. In early anticipation of the disco formula, âGypsy Womanâ created dance energy by alternating what was fundamentally a pop-soul tune with a break featuring double-timed handclaps. Bataan would take this tendency even further on his influential Salsoul, which fused funk and Latin influences in slick yet soulful orchestrations. Salsoul remains influential as a rare groove cult item, and pointed to the future at the time of its release. The LP embodied the artist’s highly deliberate and culturally aware musical concept. Bataan theorized the ’70s next big thing as a hybrid: an Afro Cuban rhythm section playing Brazilian influenced patterns over orchestral funk. In many ways, his vision was on the money, though most of the money would go to others and mainstream stardom would elude him. He did, however, get in on the ground floor of the new trend as an early hitmaker. His biggest commercial move was a Salsoul production released under the Epic umbrella, and promoted to the new disco market as Afrofilipino, which included 1975’s “The Bottle,” a much-anthologized classic that drives an R&B horn arrangement with a relentless piano montuno. Always in touch with the street, Joe Bataan picked up on rap very early in the game. His minor rap hit, “Rap-O, Clap-O” was a bit more successful in Europe than in the States, and is remembered as rap’s debut in the European market. Nevertheless, his legacy remains his gritty and realistic Latin soul lyrics, his self-identification as an “Ordinary Guy”, and his highly personal and prophetic merger of Latin and soul influences.
[A] cohort of mostly Puerto Rican AmericansâNuyoricansâwere coming of age, seeking a stake for their generationâs sonic sensibilities. Into that moment strode Joe Bataan, knife in hand. . . . [A]s a kid, he ran deep with the Nuyorican crowd . . . . In his teens, he helped lead a local Puerto Rican street gang called The Dragons, but a few stints in the pen encouraged him to seek a different path. He turned to music. . . . [I]n 1966, a ânew breedâ of Latin music was bubbling up in New York that would enrapture Bataan and his band: boogaloo [which] began as a dance craze . . . . By 1966, the dance had made its way into New York ballrooms and it was here that Nuyorican house bands began to tinker with it, giving birth to a distinctive Latin boogaloo style. . . . [A] young record executive trying to get his new Latin label off the ground . . . Jerry Masucci of Fania Records.. . . . found [with Bataan] more than just a musician; here was a voice that could sell to black, white, and Latino audiences. . . . [T]he first single Bataan recorded for Fania nodded to an earlier soul classic: The Impressionsâ 1961 hit, âGypsy Woman.â However, Bataanâs âGypsy Womanâ wasnât a cover version. Beyond an opening line that riffed on Curtis Mayfieldâs songwriting, Bataan changed everything else: the lyrics, the arrangement, the instrumentation, etc. Whereas The Impressionsâ mellow original had more in common, aurally, with a bachelor pad exotica record, Bataanâs song was ferociously uptempo and unmistakably Afro-Cuban, opening with a lively piano montuno and background singers yelling, âShe smokes, hot hot, she smokes!â . . . Other boogaloo breakout hits in 1967 . . . boasted memorable hooks but the singing was middling at best. By comparison . . . Bataan demonstrated that he could be a quadruple threat: singer, songwriter, pianist, and bandleader.
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THE GREATEST SONGS OF THE 1960s THAT NO ONE HAS EVER HEARD
1,206) Barclay James Harvest â âMother Dearâ
This “incredibly beautiful” (VianaProgHead, https://www.progarchives.com/album.asp?id=3380) song off their ’70 debut is “a Poe-like Gothic mystery (about dream-like figures in black or white) as an acoustic, string-laden gem first penned in â67”. (Brian Banks, https://www.psychedelicbabymag.com/2018/05/barclay-james-harvest-barclay-james.html) It “combines moving visionary lyrics (okay, childish lyrics, but then again they have an excuse – the song is written from a child’s point of view) with a charming acoustic folksy rhythm and magnificent background orchestration – portentous, majestic, yet never descending into Hollywoodish sappiness.” (George Starostin, https://starlingdb.org/music/barclay.htm)
As to the LP, Jason writes:
[T]heir outstanding debut was . . . . absolutely dynamite . . . . The whole album is absolutely wonderful, finding some kind of middle ground between the Move, psychedelic era Pretty Things and late 60âs Procol Harum. A genuinely fantastic album that is not to be missed, pitched half way between the psych and prog eras.
[It] was one of the unsung classics of the late ’60s, a post-psychedelic pop album that posits a peculiar collision between the Bee Gees’ vision of classic grandeur and the heftier sounds leaking out of the rock underground. Add Norman Smith’s epic production . . . . [and] Barclay James Harvest ranks among the finest albums of the entire early prog boom.
Barclay James Harvest was, for many years, one of the most hard luck outfits in progressive rock. A quartet of solid rock musicians — John Lees, guitar, vocals; Les Holroyd, bass, vocals; Stuart “Wooly” Wolstenholme, keyboards, vocals; and Mel Pritchard, drums — with a knack for writing hook-laden songs built on pretty melodies, they harmonized like the Beatles and wrote extended songs with more of a beat than the Moody Blues. They were signed to EMI at the same time as Pink Floyd, and both bands moved over to the company’s progressive rock-oriented Harvest imprint at the same time, yet somehow, they never managed to connect with the public for a major hit in England, much less America. The group was formed in September of 1966 in Oldham, Lancashire. Lees and Wolstenholme were classmates who played together in a band called the Blues Keepers; that group soon merged with a band called the Wickeds, which included Holroyd and Pritchard. They became Barclay James Harvest in June of 1967 and began rehearsing at an 18th century farmhouse in Lancashire.
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THE GREATEST SONGS OF THE 1960s THAT NO ONE HAS EVER HEARD
1,205) Billy Nicholls — âCome Againâ
Another installment of gorgeous UK pop psych from Billy Nicholls, who gifted us with one of, if not the, greatest âlostâ albums of the â60âs â Would You Believe (see #2, 64, 144, 428, 757, 964, 1,085).âAs David Wells says, âlost classic is a much abused term amongst pop historians, but itâs difficult to know how else to describe Would You Believe.â(Record Collector: 100 Greatest Psychedelic Records: High Times and Strange Tales from Rockâs Most Mind-Blowing Era)â
All I know is that 1) I am a charter member of the Billy Nicholls Preservation Society, 2) Billy Nicholls bears an uncanny resemblance to Tom Hulceâs Mozart (in Amadeus), and 3) I will never forgive Andrew Loog Oldham for letting Would You Believe sink (apparently literally) to the bottom of the sea.
When [Andrew Loog] Oldham fell out with the Stones in 1967 he redirected all his resources into making the youthful Nicholls a star of the psychedelic pop scene.âThe results were the single âWould You Believeâ, which hitthe racks in January 1968, and the like-titled album that followed in short order.âThe single has been described as âthe most over-produced record of the sixtiesâ, and with reason; a modest psych-pop love song, itâs swathed in overblown orchestration including baroque strings, harpsichord, banjo (!), tuba (!!), and demented answer-back vocals from Steve Marriott.âA trifle late for the high tide of UK psych, it failed to trouble the charts.âUnfazed, Oldham and Nicholls pressed on with the album, Nicholls providing a steady stream of similarly well-crafted ditties and a bevy of top-rated London sessionmen providing the backings . . . .âThe album was ready for pressing just as the revelation of Oldhamâs reckless financial overstretch brought about Immediateâs overnight demise, and only about a hundred copies ever made it to wax . . . .
In words that I could have written myself, John Katsmc5 notes that â[i]tâs an absolute tragedy that this never got released, as it would DEFINITELY be hailed now as a solid gold true 60âs classic right up there with Pet Sounds, Blonde On Blonde . . . .â
It all come back to Pet Sounds. Oldham himself explains:
Pet Sounds changed my life for the better. It enhanced the drugs I was taking and made life eloquent and bearable during those times I set down in London and realised I was barely on speaking terms with those who lived in my home and understood them even less when they spoke â thatâs when Brian Wilson spoke for me.âMy internal weather had been made better for the costs of two sides of vinyl.
2 Stoned
David Wells explains that:
[Oldham] was desperate to create a British corollary to the American harmony pop sound of the Beach Boys and the Mamas & Papas, and his nurturing of many Immediate acts only makes sense when considered from this perspective.âBut many of the labelâs early signings . . . were merely pale imitations of the American model, copycat acts rather than originators who were further hamstrung by a lack of songwriting talent.âAnd then along comes Billy Nicholls â a superb singer, gifted songwriter and as green as the Mendip hills.âOldham . . . quickly latched onto the manipulative possibilities.â[H]e could turn his back on cutting unconvincing facsimiles of Brian Wilson tunes in order to mastermind his own three-minute pocket symphonies.âFired up by this grand conceit, Oldham commandeered the Nicholls sessions, recreating the American harmony pop sound in a resolutely English setting courtesy of a string of virtuosos production techniques, multi-layered harmonies and plenty of Wilsonesque baroque instrumentation. . . .â[The album] can be see both as a magnificent achievement and an outrageous folly â how . . . Oldham thought he could recoup the budget that heâd bestown on the album is anyoneâs guess.
liner notes to the CD âreâ-issue of Would You Believe
Nicholls himself observed that âAndrew had a great belief in the songs I was writing . . . and fortunately we had Andrewâs money to spend fortunes on the orchestration.â (liner notes to the CD reissue)
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From suburban Pointe-Claire, on Montreal’s west island, M.G. and the Escorts saw some chart action at local radio station CFCF with their 1966 debut seven-incher, the rather lame merseybeat of ‘Please Don’t Ever Change’. The boys, at the time still sporting matching Carnaby Street suits and spiffy Beatle boots, were kept busy on the Ottawa valley circuit, playing high school dances around Ottawa, Kingston and Brockville. By early 1967 though, after losing their Beatlemania fetters, M.G. and the Escorts had really hit their stride with their third release for the Reo label, a brilliant double-sider that reached number nine locally.
“Fool” “entered the RPM Top 100 Singles chart at number 84 on February 18th 1967 and peaked at number 53 on April 1st 1967.” (twerptwo, https://www.45cat.com/record/8975x)
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Please consider helping to support my website/blog by contributing $6 a month for access to the Off the Charts Spotify Playlist. Using a term familiar to denizens of Capitol Hill, you pay to play! (ârelating to or denoting an unethical or illicit arrangement in which payment is made by those who want certain privileges or advantages in such arenas as business, politics, sports, and entertainmentâ â dictionary.com).
The playlist includes all the âgreatest songs of the 1960âs that no one has ever heardâ that are available on Spotify — now over 750 songs. The playlist will expand each time I feature an available song.
All new subscribers will receive a Brace for the Obscure 60s Rock magnet. New subscribers who sign up for a year will also receive a Brace for the Obscure 60s Rock t-shirt or baseball cap. See pictures on the Pay to Play page.
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THE GREATEST SONGS OF THE 1960s THAT NO ONE HAS EVER HEARD
1,203) The Shangri-Las — âSophisticated Boom Boomâ
Sometimes called the first female rap record, this ’65 and â66 B-side is a hoot, “a brilliant single”, “one of the most bizarre things ever committed to vinyl. . . . a paen to lounge music, given a finger-clickin’ hip-wigglin’ backbeat by Shadow Morton, and with one of Mary [Weissâ] drollest, most deadpan vocals” (BradL, https://rateyourmusic.com/release/single/the_shangri_las/long_live_our_love___sophisticated_boom_boom/), though I think Betty Weiss did the vocals. BradL adds that “And ain’t it a gas to hear the Shangri-Las actually sounding happy?” And GrubStLodger says “Wow, must be one of few shangri-la’s songs I know without a death in. They built up quite a bodycount.” (GrubStLodger, https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tsBQ5xvj8BU) đ đ đ
Steve Simels ponders:
You know, some times I think that if titles were everything, these gals’ 1966 masterpiece “Sophisticated Boom Boom” would be the greatest record ever made. Even if it isn’t, of course, it’s still pretty transplendent stuff. And incidentally — if anybody knows what instrument the solo is being played on, I’d be grateful if you could let me know. Is it a trumpet? A melodica? A kazoo? Somebody singing through their nose? I haven’t a clue, honest…
One-part teenage melodrama, one-part charming naivete, and more than their share of unshakable early pop melodies, the Shangri-Las were one of the greatest and most important girl groups of the ’60s. Along with joyous adolescent energy tailored for high school dances, the trio of Mary Weiss and twin sisters Marge and Mary Ann Ganser also conveyed an eerie darkness that offset their more innocent characteristics. Some of their biggest hits (produced by studio mastermind Shadow Morton) were crushing love songs about dead bikers, doomed love affairs, and familial estrangement. . . . [T]he group’s material[ is] a breathlessly exciting body of work that played an undeniable role in defining the girl group sound. The Shangri-Las formed in 1963 and were originally comprised of two pairs of sisters from Queens, New York (identical twins Marge and Mary Anne Ganser and siblings Mary and Betty Weiss). They had already recorded a couple of obscure singles when they were hired by George “Shadow” Morton to demo a song he had recently written, “Remember (Walkin’ in the Sand).” The haunting ballad . . . made the Top Five in late 1964. . . . The quality of Morton’s work with the Shangri-Las on Red Bird . . . was remarkable considering that he had virtually no prior experience in the music business. The group’s material, so over-the-top emotionally that it sometimes bordered on camp, was lightened by the first-class production, which embroidered the tracks with punchy brass, weeping strings, and plenty of imaginative sound effects. . . . The death rock classic [“Leader of the Pack”] became the Shangri-Las’ signature tune, reaching number one. Several smaller hits followed in 1965 and 1966, many of them excellent. . . . Unlike some girl groups, the Shangri-Las were dynamic on-stage performers, choreographing their dance steps to their lyrics and wearing attire that was daring for the time.
As to Shadow Morton, who wrote “Boom Boom”, Thomas Erlewine writes:
Shadow Morton is one of the legendary cult figures of rock & roll, a mad genius who existed in, well, the shadows. He was one of the great girl group producers . . . [and] one of the only Brill Building-related musicians to successfully transition from pop to psychedelia and acid rock, helming Janis Ian’s breakthrough 1966 single “Society’s Child (Baby I’ve Been Thinking)”: before producing heavy hits for Vanilla Fudge (“You Keep Me Hanging On”) and Iron Butterfly (“In-A-Gadda-Da-Vida”). . . . [He] carved out his own histrionic, theatrical sound within the confines of the Brill Building. . . . [T]he New York Dolls do seem like a career-capping masterwork, drawing upon everything else Morton tried in the previous decade and a half, but . . . in between the Shangri-Las and the Dolls, Morton created a wild, wooly, visionary body of work that retains its mystique to this very day.
Oh, and did I forget to mention the the Goodies? John Clemente writes that:
[A]n American pop girl group of the 1960s[, b]etween 1963 and 1965 they charted with teen melodramas, and remain perhaps best known for their recordings of “The Dum Dum Ditty” and “Sophisticated Boom Boom” before both songs were made even more popular by . . . the Shangri-Las.Sisters Maureen and Diane Reiling, Maryann Gesmundo and Susan Gelber were four [Long Island] friends . . . . [who] started singing . . . in junior high . . . . [T]he group . . . was introduced to producer George “Shadow” Morton. . . . [who] was already having success with the Shangri-Las . . . . Morton recorded . . . demos with [the Goodies (first known as the Bunnies), including] “Leader Of The Pack” [and] “Give Him A Great Big Kiss” . . . . Unfortunately, every time [they] were about to get their shot, the powers that be at Red Bird insisted that the more established Shangri-Las record the actual release. . . .
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The playlist includes all the âgreatest songs of the 1960âs that no one has ever heardâ that are available on Spotify — now over 750 songs. The playlist will expand each time I feature an available song.
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After two despairing singles, Bacharach and David return Jackie DeShannon to the gentle social relevance of “What the World Needs Now.” Instead of not needing another mountain or river, Jackie’s rejecting the need for more ceilings and floors. “If we have each other,” she concludes, “that’s all we need.“
Burt Bacharach: Song By Song
Billboard predicted (Oct. 29, 1966) that âWindowsâ, âan excellent showcase for the talented vocalist . . . should quickly spiral up the charts.” Alas, it only reached #108.
As to Jackie, Steve Leggett writes that:
Jackie DeShannon is best known as a pop singer who scored a handful of memorable pop hits in the 1960s . . . . [but this] just scratches the surface of [her] accomplishments. She was also a gifted songwriter who wrote hits for the Byrds, the Searchers, Irma Thomas, and Kim Carnes . . . . [By 1965] her sessions were dominated by her own songs, a rare accomplishment for a female artist at the time. In the ’70s, she blossomed into a sophisticated recording artist whose best work . . . stood beside that of Carole King and Joni Mitchell . . . . Born Sharon Lee Meyers in Hazel, Kentucky . . . [she] was singing country songs on a local radio show by the time she was six years old. By 11, she was hosting her own show . . . . [She] recorded regional singles under various names as a teenager . . . . Her versions of a pair of country songs . . . caught the ear of rocker Eddie Cochran, who sought her out and introduced her to his girlfriend, singer, and songwriter Sharon Sheeley. [The two women] began writing songs together, including âI Love Anastasiaâ (a hit for the Fleetwoods) and âDum Dumâ (a hit for Brenda Lee). Myers signed a recording contract with Liberty Records in 1960. By this point she . . . become known as Jackie DeShannon . . . . Although she . . . release[d] fine singles . . . she only had moderate success on the charts. Her biggest break came when she opened for the Beatles on the groupâs first U.S. tour in 1964 . . . . DeShannon moved briefly to England the next year and began writing songs with a pre-Led Zeppelin Jimmy Page . . . . [She q]uickly bec[ame] an A-list songwriter . . . . Moving to New York, DeShannon began writing songs with a pre-fame Randy Newman . . . . In 1965, [she] finally conquered the pop charts with her version of Burt Bacharach and Hal David’s âWhat the World Needs Now Is Love[]â . . . . In 1969 she returned to the pop charts with her own âPut a Little Love in Your Heart,â following it with the only slightly less successful âLove Will Find a Way.â DeShannon left New York and moved to Los Angeles, signing with Atlantic in 1970 — although her work for the label was critically acclaimed . . . [her] fine albums . . . failed to find large audiences. . . . âBette Davis Eyes,â which DeShannon co-wrote with Donna Weiss, was a huge hit for Kim Carnes in 1981.
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Please consider helping to support my website/blog by contributing $6 a month for access to the Off the Charts Spotify Playlist. Using a term familiar to denizens of Capitol Hill, you pay to play! (ârelating to or denoting an unethical or illicit arrangement in which payment is made by those who want certain privileges or advantages in such arenas as business, politics, sports, and entertainmentâ â dictionary.com).
The playlist includes all the âgreatest songs of the 1960âs that no one has ever heardâ that are available on Spotify — now over 750 songs. The playlist will expand each time I feature an available song.
All new subscribers will receive a Brace for the Obscure 60s Rock magnet. New subscribers who sign up for a year will also receive a Brace for the Obscure 60s Rock t-shirt or baseball cap. See pictures on the Pay to Play page.
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THE GREATEST SONGS OF THE 1960s THAT NO ONE HAS EVER HEARD
1,201) John Carter & Russ Alquist â âLaughing Manâ
Too weird to be a hit? Too irresistible not to be? To me, the latter, but in the UK unfortunately, this â68 A-side by one of the UKâs great songwriters was the former, â[n]ice pop psych that is worth a listen if the Circus Clown laugh doesn’t freak you out” (teabiscuit, https://www.45cat.com/record/srl1017), a “[v]ery bizarre single [unlikely to] ever st[an]d a chance of charting; imagine tuning the car radio on to this while driving and hearing that spoken section!” (CorporalClegg, https://www.45cat.com/record/srl1017)
Mark Frumento writes:
The clear highlight . . . is the over-the-top spoken word section performed by [Russ] Alquist, sounding strangely close to dialogue from the movie Yellow Submarine. . . . [John] Carter remembers the session fondly. “When Russ did that part we were so surprised. We were cracking up because we had never heard anything like it. “That part was almost all improvised,” Russ Alquist explains. “I’d record a section and we would keep the lines that worked.”
liner notes to the CD comp The Ministry of Sound: Men from the Ministry/Midsummer Nights Dreaming
Tim Sendra:
One of the leading tunesmiths of the ’60s and ’70s English pop scene, John Carter was responsible for writing big hits and timeless classics like “Can’t You Feel My Heartbeat” by Herman’s Hermits, “My World Fell Down” by Sagittarius, and the Music Explosion’s “Little Bit o’ Soul[]” . . . . the Ivy League’s “Funny How Love Can Be,” the Flowerpot Men’s “Let’s Go to San Francisco,” and “Beach Baby” for First Class. Typified by harmony vocals, simple melodies and, during the psychedelic era, very soft Baroque arrangements, the songs and productions Carter was a part of helped define the sound of English pop during his heyday. . . . Carter began writing songs at the age of 15 with classmate Ken Lewis. Inspired by the first wave of rockers . . . they worked up a batch of songs and in 1959, left their hometown [of Birmingham] for London . . . . find[ing] a publisher right away . . . . In 1960, they moved over to Southern Music and . . . began singing . . . under the name Carter-Lewis. . . . [and then] Carter-Lewis & the Southerners . . . . Between 1961 and 1964 they issued seven singles . . . . [t]heir sound was firmly rooted in the tradition of the Everly Brothers . . . . Though . . . a popular live act, the two songwriters quickly figured out that it made more sense financially to stay behind the scenes instead. Carter in particular exhibited no interest in becoming a pop star . . . . They soon shifted to cranking out demos . . . . [With] Perry Ford, [they] started . . . the Ivy League in late 1964 . . . . [W]hen the Rockin’ Berries turned down the song “Funny How Love Can Be,” the group released it themselves and had a Top Ten hit. Their sound was pitched somewhere between Del Shannon and the Beach Boys . . . . Carter left the band to head back to the . . . studio . . . with new [writing] partner Geoff Stephens. Along with songs penned for the Ivy League . . . the pair had hits with Manfred Mann, Mary Hopkin, the New Vaudeville Band, and Herman’s Hermits. Carter even ended up singing lead vocals on “Winchester Cathedral[.]” . . . [H]e was also working in the studio with a pair of songwriters, Robin Keen and Mickey Shaw, who he had signed to his newly formed music publishing company. Every week the pair would meet with Carter and play him the songs they had written. He’d pick his favorites and they would assemble a crack team of musicians to record them. Though they continued to work in this fashion for almost two years, they only issued one single, 1966’s “White Collar Worker,” [as] the Ministry of Sound. . . . Lewis left the Ivy League in 1967 and paired up with Carter again. . . . “Little Bit of Soul” [became a hit] . . . . [as did t]heir soft psychedelic confection “Let’s Go to San Francisco” . . . . Once again, Carter and Lewis decided not to go on the road and hired a band to go out and perform as the Flowerpot Men . . . .
Russell Alquist became John’s third writing partner . . . . They’d known each other for years — John and Ken [Lewis] demo’d his A little Lovin’, a hit for the Fourmost in ’64. [John recalled] “Russ is American, a great laidback hippy. To him, everything is ‘Hey man, don’t worry’, which was great for us because we’re so hyper!” The Carter-Lewis-Alquist partnership got their own office in Old Compton Street in 1968. “Underneath was a porn cinema, you had to turn your collar up coming in so that no one would recognise you.” Every Friday . . . . “Russ would bring a big bag of sweets with him, we used to call it Candy Day. Something would always come out of it.”
liner notes to the CD comp Measure for Measure: The John Carter Anthology 1961-1977
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MickaĂŤl Choisi (courtesy of Google Translate) writes of the album:
â[A] collection of jewels . . . . The songwriting, astonishing for young men barely twenty years old, is constantly enhanced by the arrangements of Gene Page and the inimitable playing of the “West Coast” musicians of the time, most of them from the famous Wrecking Crew . . . . At the turn of a harpsichord note, we even find Van Dyke Parks, whom pop symphony enthusiasts know well for having greatly participated in the construction of the âSmileâ cathedral with Wilson. Just like the genius of the Beach Boys, AndrĂŠ and Reid also possess this incredible instinct for complex harmonies (but never pretentious) and baroque reveries all enveloped in oboes, vibraphones, strings, brass and light guitars.
[Reid] King found inspiration in the tricky chords of the bossa nova. He mastered them and went on to write his own songs, often in collaboration with one-time child actor Thom Andriola, who performed under the stage name of Tommy AndrĂŠ. By 1966, [they] were recording demos, and one year later, they were signed to Canterbury Records. At the cult favorite Sunset Boulevard label, home to the Yellow Balloon, they found themselves collaborating with rock royalty as The New Wave. Van Dyke Parks, Gene Page, Mike Post, Hal Blaine and Carol Kaye all added their magic to the duoâs debut. But the promise of the day soon gave way to disappointment, and the New Waveâs lone LP has been shrouded in mystery for over forty years . . . . The New Wave brought together the sounds of Kingâs beloved bossa nova with jazz, pop and classical strains, while the harmonies recalled late-period Chad and Jeremy or even Peter and Gordon. . . . The New Wave took its name from the French filmmaking movement [that] included directors Francois Truffaut and Jean-Luc Godard . . . . King and AndrĂŠ hoped to bring that singular vision to their music. As such, they wrote all but one of the songs . . . . It is no surprise that members of the famed Los Angeles âWrecking Crewâ participated . . . . Gene Page, another Phil Spector session veteran, was in the arrangerâs chair and co-produced (uncredited) with Canterburyâs Ken Handler. Van Dyke Parks was enlisted into service on piano while in the midst of work on [Brian Wilson’s] SMiLE . . . . The album performed well in the Los Angeles area, but Canterbury wasnât behind it. King and Andriola continued to explore the boundaries of popular music, taking their sound in a less commercial direction (inspired by modern classical composition) and recording a second album in the U.K. that never saw release. But the New Waveâs self-titled LP has remained a favorite among sunshine pop collectors for its intelligent lyrics and quirky, moody, individual melodies.
Scott Blackerby is ambivalent and snarkily notes that “[m]ost of the songs boast fairly attractive melodies, though the arrangements are occasionally overwhelming and their lyrics suffer from standard college student angst, which probably drove female English majors crazy.” (The Acid Archives, the Second Edition) Richie Unterberger is less than complimentary:
The album is in fact so soft and pop-ish that its relationship to rock music is slight and it sometimes sounds geared as much or more to the adult pop market as the pop/rock one. Their material emphasizes breezy, samba-influenced close-harmony romantic tunes, acoustic guitars, and light percussion embroidered by vibes and some orchestration. The music is pleasant but fluffy . . . .
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Please consider helping to support my website/blog by contributing $6 a month for access to the Off the Charts Spotify Playlist. Using a term familiar to denizens of Capitol Hill, you pay to play! (ârelating to or denoting an unethical or illicit arrangement in which payment is made by those who want certain privileges or advantages in such arenas as business, politics, sports, and entertainmentâ â dictionary.com).
The playlist includes all the âgreatest songs of the 1960âs that no one has ever heardâ that are available on Spotify — now over 750 songs. The playlist will expand each time I feature an available song.
All new subscribers will receive a Brace for the Obscure 60s Rock magnet. New subscribers who sign up for a year will also receive a Brace for the Obscure 60s Rock t-shirt or baseball cap. See pictures on the Pay to Play page.
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THE GREATEST SONGS OF THE 1960s THAT NO ONE HAS EVER HEARD
Stir together some old British folk tunes and an old Texas gambling song, recordings by early 20th Century luminaries such as Fiddlin’ Jack Carson and blues legend Blind Lemon Jefferson, Dylan musings from the back cover of Another Side of Bob Dylan, and you get three killer versions of “Jack O’ Diamonds”, each one unique and unforgettable. The first is primo mod sung by a cult actor who later snared a role in The Dirty Dozen, guitar courtesy of Jimmy Page. The second is garage heaven from the Seattle underground. The third is psych folk from British folksters Fairport Convention’s first LP.
Tony Attwood begins the story:
Alan Lomax . . . says in âOur singing countryâ (1941) that it was a Texas gambling song that was popularized by Blind Lemon Jefferson (which is good enough for me). It was apparently sung by railroad men who had lost money playing conquian (a game known in England as rummy) and the song comes from a family of similar songs originating in Britain.
Buried among the military bands and trad jazz in my Dad’s record collection were one or two gems, notably a number of Lonnie Donegan 78s, perhaps the best of which was his version of this old gambling folk song. It reached No 14 in the UK singles chart in 1957 and I was thrilled by Donegan’s energetic performance, delivered at breakneck speed. “Jack of Diamonds” has a long history. The lyrics may date from the American civil war and the tune from even earlier . . . .
One of my favourite records of the summer of 1965 was âJack oâ Diamondsâ by Ben Carruthers and the Deep, produced by Shel Talmy and released that June on Parlophone. The songwriting credit on the label read âDylan-Carruthersâ. . . . Itâs a terrific piece of work, perfectly pitched between the exhilarating modernist Anglo-R&B sound of the early Animals, Kinks and Who and Dylanâs intense, inventive folk-rock. Great guitars â heavily reverbed arpeggios, slashing rhythm â with watery organ fills and solo, no nonsense from the bass and drums, and an urgent post-Dylan vocal. [B]eautifully constructed . . . . and a wonderful final chord.
Williams gives the story of Carruthers’ and his only 45:
Carruthers, an American actor who had appeared six years earlier in John Cassavetesâ great Shadows, was in London that summer to appear in a BBC-TV Wednesday Play, Troy Kennedy Martinâs A Man Without Papers, playing the lead opposite Geraldine McEwan. He visited Dylan at the Savoy hotel (a sojourn immortalised, of course, in D.A. Pennebakerâs Donât Look Back), and when he asked him for a lyric he was rewarded with a piece of paper on which Dylan scrawled a version of the poem that had appeared the previous year on the sleeve of Another Side of Bob Dylan . . . . No wonder the backing track is so sharp: the band, created by Talmy for the session at IBC Studios in Portland Place, included two of the sharpest 21-year-old session musicians in London, Jimmy Page on guitar and Nicky Hopkins on piano, along with a bunch of students from the Architectural Association: Benny Kern on guitar, Ian Whiteman on Lowrey organ, Pete Hodgkinson on drums and a bass player remember only as John. Whiteman later joined the Action, who became Mighty Baby. According to him (on the 45cat website here), it was Kern as much as Carruthers who put the music to Dylanâs lyrics. . . . Carruthers (which is how he was credited on some of his early films) was born in Illinois [and] was already 29 when he made âJack oâ Diamondsâ. He didnât make any more records, but there were several further appearances on TV and in movies, including The Dirty Dozen in 1967.
The composition Jack Oâ Diamonds has been reported as being composed by Bob Dylan and Ben Carruthers, and it has a very interesting origin and evolution. Whether this is a ârealâ Bob Dylan composition, Iâll leave you to decide . . . . According to Second Hand Songs âCarruthers took it upon himself to create a song based upon some poetry/prose that Dylan had penned for the sleevenotes of his Another Side Of Bob Dylan album. Carruthers (as well as being an actor) had worked as a secretary for Dylanâs manager Albert Grossman and itâs believed this connection made the whole thing possible.â . . So, bits of an old blues, a fraction of Dylanâs sleeve notes, and a new melody. I am not sure if this really warrants Bob being credited with the lyrics.
This ’66 B-side was from the first of the Flash’s two singles. Mike Stax tells us: “Opening with a drawn-out-feedback-and-drum build-up, and then launching into a thundering bass-driven arrangement, [it] is a remarkably advanced piece of work. The raw, wailing harmonica and abrasive guitar break recall something of the Yardbirds and anticipate the psychedelic movement centered around San Francisco.” (liner notes to the CD comp Nuggets (Original Artyfacts From The First Psychedelic Era 1965-1968))
David Marsh writes of this song ofâshambolic brilliance” that:
The opening wall of noise during which the drummer seems to be warming up; the bass playing the same insistent riff throughout; the urgent harmonica and jagged guitar; the production that suggests it really was recorded in someone’s garage â all contribute to a great record. It finishes as it begins and you have heard the definitive garage punk single.
Their sound, which fused elements of folk, rock and jazz, proved to be a contrasting force in a time where garage rock was such a dominant force in the San Francisco/Californian scene â this gave them an edge. So, with this in mind, I am about to share a track that contradicts all that I have just written!! The Daily Flash wrote a garage rock song!!!âŚand itâs pretty cool!!!. . . Rocking with blistering feedback and swirling with this warm hub of melodic chaos, itâs this rawness that makes this offering so edgy and sharp!! I love how the deep bluesy harmonica embellishments entwines with the frenzied guitar, as if in a dual, fighting for prominenceâŚboth components as mighty as one another! Itâs a little smasher!
David Marsh notes that the Daily Flash was “a Seattle quartet who moved to California and managed to rub shoulders with various big names (they were signed by the manager of Buffalo Springfield) without ever quite finding success themselves . . . .” (https://www.theguardian.com/music/2012/mar/13/daily-flash-jack-diamonds) Mike Stax adds that “Steve Lalor and Don MacAllister’s roots were in folk music, but by the middle of 1964 they were gravitating toward a more electric approach and enlisted jazz-trained drummer Jon Keliehor and guitarist Doug Hastings to form The Daily Flash. With an electic set that drew on folk, jazz, and rock elements, the group had become a major force in the growing Seattle underground scene by 1965.” (liner notes to the CD comp Nuggets (Original Artyfacts From The First Psychedelic Era 1965-1968))
Of the Flash, Richie Unterberger writes that:
More than any other Seattle group of the ’60s, the Daily Flash assimilated the folk-rock and psychedelic sounds of the day into a sound that was both forward-looking and commercial. Specializing in electric rearrangements of contemporary folk songs that emphasized their harmonies and 12-string guitar, the Flash were also capable of psychedelic rock, as on “Jack of Diamonds,” which featured blistering feedback guitar. They cut a couple of regional singles and appeared with many of the leading psychedelic groups of the day in California, but never managed to launch their own career or even record an album. Guitarist Doug Hastings played briefly with Buffalo Springfield and was a member of Rhinoceros. . . .
As interpreters, The Flash showed a great deal of skill, adapting compositions . . . to full-blown folk-rock arrangements with a touch of baroque pop. . . .
Michael Little sort of loves the song, from FC’s first LP (’68):
Fairport Convention plays Bob Dylan and Ben Carruthersâ . . . âJack OâDiamondsâ fast and loose like theyâre the Byrds, and I really dig it despite its recorder solo by Dyble (which should have been a guitar solo by [Richard] Thompson), and its lack of Thompson guitar mayhem in general. It opens with a slow guitar riff, then takes off, with [Ian] Matthews [see #173, 1,102] singing . . . . Then thereâs some ensemble singing I donât much care for, although I love Dybleâs wail at the end. All in all itâs a pretty cool song, perfect for an acid trip or poker night, and thatâs what I call one multi-tasking tune.
The best British folk-rock band of the late ’60s, Fairport Convention did more than any other act to develop a truly British variation on the folk-rock prototype by drawing upon traditional material and styles indigenous to the British Isles. While the revved-up renditions of traditional British folk tunes drew the most critical attention, the group members were also (at least at the outset) talented songwriters as well as interpreters. They were comfortable with conventional harmony-based folk-rock as well as tunes that drew upon more explicitly traditional sources, and boasted some of the best singers and instrumentalists of the day. . . . When Fairport formed around 1967, their goal was not to revive British folk numbers, but to play harmony- and guitar-based folk-rock in a style strongly influenced by Californian groups of the day (especially the Byrds). The lineup that recorded their self-titled debut album in 1968 featured Richard Thompson, Ian Matthews, and Siimon Nicol on guitars . . . . Most of the members sang, though Matthews and [Judy] Dyble were the strongest vocalists in this early incarnation; all of their early work, in fact, was characterized by blends of male and female vocals, influenced by such American acts as the Mamas & the Papas and Ian & Sylvia. While their first album was derivative, it had some fine material, and the band was already showing a knack for eclecticism . . . . Fairport Convention didn’t reach their peak until Dyble was replaced after the first album in 1968 by Sandy Denny, who had previously recorded both as a solo act and with the Strawbs. [Her] penetrating, resonant style qualified her as the best British folk-rock singer of all time, and provided Fairport with the best vocalist they would ever have. . . .
By far the most rock-oriented of Fairport Convention’s early albums . . . . [their debut LP was u]njustly overlooked by listeners who consider the band’s pre-Denny output insignificant[. But] this is a fine folk-rock effort that takes far more inspiration from West Coast ’60s sounds than traditional British folk. Fairport’s chief strengths at this early juncture were the group’s interpretations, particularly in the harmony vocals, of obscure tunes by American songwriters . . . . Their own songs weren’t quite up to that high standard, but were better than many have given them credit for . . . . It’s true that Fairport would devise a more original style after Denny joined, but the bandmembers’ first-class abilities as more American pop-folk-rock-styled musicians on this album shouldn’t be undersold.
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Please consider helping to support my website/blog by contributing $6 a month for access to the Off the Charts Spotify Playlist. Using a term familiar to denizens of Capitol Hill, you pay to play! (ârelating to or denoting an unethical or illicit arrangement in which payment is made by those who want certain privileges or advantages in such arenas as business, politics, sports, and entertainmentâ â dictionary.com).
The playlist includes all the âgreatest songs of the 1960âs that no one has ever heardâ that are available on Spotify — now over 750 songs. The playlist will expand each time I feature an available song.
All new subscribers will receive a Brace for the Obscure 60s Rock magnet. New subscribers who sign up for a year will also receive a Brace for the Obscure 60s Rock t-shirt or baseball cap. See pictures on the Pay to Play page.
When subscribing, please send me an e-mail (GMFtma1@gmail.com) or a comment on this site letting me know an e-mail address/phone number/Facebook address, etc. to which I can send instructions on accessing the playlist and a physical address to which I can sent a magnet/t-shirt/baseball cap. If choosing a t-shirt, please let me know the gender and size you prefer.
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THE GREATEST SONGS OF THE 1960s THAT NO ONE HAS EVER HEARD
1,196) Joe Tex — âIâll Never Do You Wrongâ
I love my Joe Tex (see #42, 455, 609, 732) — and not only the raucous, riotous and raunchy Joe Tex. Here is a beautiful and heartfelt ballad by JT at his sweetest. It even reached #59 on the pop charts in ’68 (#26 R&B). JT wrote “Never Do You Wrong”, which has a bit of country in it, which is fitting, as it appeared on his album of country covers (Soul Country). It “kicks the album off with some great vocals and backing in this wonderful tune.” (Matt, https://www.jazzmusicarchives.com/artist/joe-tex) Country singer Diana Trask did a great cover the following year.
If you know of this song because it was sampled by RZA for the Ol’ Dirty Bastard song ‘Snakes”, or it was played on the TV series The Umbrella Academy, that’s cheating!
Michael Jack Kirby gives a fabulous introduction to Joe Tex (Joseph Arrington, Jr.):
In 1965 . . . [he] had his first big hit, âHold What Youâve Got.â Perseverance got him to that point as heâd been making records for almost ten years. [Joe Tex] . . . . had advice for everyone, especially when it came to romance and moral behavior. The long road to stardom got under way in 1955 when he made the journey from the Lone Star State to New York Cityâs Apollo Theater, taking control of the crowds and coming in first place on more than one âAmateur Night.â Syd Nathan, owner of King records, offered him a chance to record . . . . After several releases but no breakthrough hit, King cut him loose and he headed back to Texas, where he served as a minister . . . . Tex joined the Ace [Records] roster in 1958 and waxed several singles . . . but . . . none were hits. . . . He [did] perfect[] some mean dance moves, including an impressive microphone stand gimmick by letting the stand fall to the floor as he grabs it with his foot just in time, proceeding to kick it around while dancing and singing, never missing a beat of the song. Those kinds of stage moves . . . would later get him into a skirmish with a certain âMr. Dynamite.â Joe had . . . a few singles for the Anna label . . . âBaby Youâre Right,â was interpreted with minor changes by James Brown . . . and hit the pop charts, and R&B top ten . . . the first major hit with Joeâs name attached. Any good feelings Joe had towards James was short-lived, though, when the latter made claims that the former had copied his moves onstage. Joeâs reply was to make fun of JBâs cape-wearing âPlease, Please, Pleaseâ routine at a concert, and when James began dating Joeâs ex-wife . . . the two cut ties permanently.
The break of a lifetime came when Joe met William âBuddyâ Killen. . . . Buddy worked for Big Tree Publishing . . . . Tex and Killen clicked when they first met and a deal was struck . . . . Ten singles came out . . . between 1961 and 1964 . . . . with the same frustrating results [as before]. Joe was ready to call it quits and move on . . . [but] Killen convinced him to hang in there a little longer. [The â64 single] âHold What Youâve Got[]â . . . went top ten on the pop charts and number one R&B in January 1965. . . . The Tex-Killen team was a well-oiled machine in those hitmaking years of the mid-to-late 1960s and the two became very close friends. Buddy produced and Joe continued doing all the songwriting himself . . . . [H]e caught a hot groove in 1967 with âShow Me,â . . [and] âSkinny Legs and All[]â . . was a smash hit beyond all expectations; top ten, a million seller and Grammy nominee to boot. . . .
Joe Tex made the first Southern soul record that also hit on the pop charts . . . . His raspy-voiced, jackleg preacher style also laid some of the most important parts of rapâs foundation. He is, arguably, the most underrated of all the â60s soul performers associated with Atlantic Records . . . . Tex made his mark by preaching over tough hard soul tracks, clowning at some points, swooping into a croon at others. He was perhaps the most rustic and back-country of the soul stars, a role he played to the hilt . . . . His biggest hit was âSkinny Legs and All,â from a 1967 live album, his rapping pure hokum over deeply funky riffs. âSkinny Legsâ might have served as a template for all the raucous, ribald hip-hop hits of popâs future.
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Please consider helping to support my website/blog by contributing $6 a month for access to the Off the Charts Spotify Playlist. Using a term familiar to denizens of Capitol Hill, you pay to play! (ârelating to or denoting an unethical or illicit arrangement in which payment is made by those who want certain privileges or advantages in such arenas as business, politics, sports, and entertainmentâ â dictionary.com).
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Jackie Lomax . . . has always had a soulful voice, a bit like his contemporary Steve Winwood . . . (the two actually also look strikingly similar), but his considerable talent never translated . . . into international commercial success.
This lack of success baffled the Beatles, who try as they may, couldnât make Jackie Lomax a star, and it baffles me too. Brian Pendreigh writes that:
A lot of people thought Jackie Lomax should have been a big star. He had moody good looks[ and] a great bluesy voice . . . . Bill Harry, author of The Ultimate Beatles Encyclopedia, said his lack of chart success baffled The Beatles.
Bruce Eder adds that âGeorge Harrison and Paul McCartney both thought enough of his talent to back him variously as producers and record company executives at a critical juncture in all of their careers.â (https://www.allmusic.com/artist/jackie-lomax-mn0000130486/biography)
Richard Williams gives some history:
Lomax had known the Beatles since their early days at the Cavern club and in Hamburg, when he was the singer and bass guitarist with the Undertakers, a popular Mersey Beat band noted for their energetic stage show, in which the musicians wore the frock coats, and sometimes top hats, appropriate to funeral directors in the wild west. . . . [T]he son of a millworker, the teenaged Lomax and his friend the drummer Warren âBugsâ Pemberton left their first band, Dee and the Dynamites, to join the Undertakers in January 1962. Like the Beatles, their stage act was developed during residencies at the clubs in and around Hamburgâs Reeperbahn . . . . [A] contract with Pye Records had produced four singles . . . but no hits [so] they tried to capitalise on the British invasion of the US charts by moving across the Atlantic. Left stranded and penniless in a motel in Canada, they disbanded and in 1967 Lomax and Pemberton formed their own group, the Lomax Alliance.
[Limax recalled] âI went with The Beatles to Shea Stadium in 1966, and it was then that Brian asked me to become a solo singer. I said, ‘Well, I’ve just got a new band together, do you want to hear us?’ So he came to a rehearsal and was impressed, and he brought us back to England. We were called the Lomax Allianceâtwo American guys, two English. We started an album, but Brian died in the middle of it, so it all ended in confusion.” It was now late 1967. Jackie continues: “The rest of tile band went back to New York, but I stayed in London. I met up with Chris Curtis, the drummer from The Searchers, and we went to NEMS to see if The Beatles would help us out.” John Lennon re-iterated Brian Epstein’s earlier advice [to go solo] and helped push Jackie’s career in another direction too. Jackie recalls: âJohn took me aside and said, ‘Hey Jackie, Brian told me you write songs?’ I said, ‘Well, I’m just starting out, but yeah’. He said, ‘We want songwriters, so go and see Terry Doran at Apple Publishing’. So I did, and I got signed a as writer. This was before they’d launched the Apple record label. . . . I thought I was writing songs for other artists, but then George Harrison heard them, and he said, ‘I’m going to India, but when I come back do you want to do an album, and I’ll produce it?’.” Says Jackie: “I was screaming in my head ‘YEAH!!’, but being a typical Liverpool lad, I played it down and went, ‘Oh yeah, sounds like a good idea’. . . . Sessions . . . began in June 1968, at EMIâs Abbey Road studios. George booked dates around Beatles sessions for the ‘White Album’. The recordings continued until the end of the year, moving to Trident Studios . . . before George and Jackie jetted off to the USA to complete the album . . . . Jackie’s newly written Apple Publishing songs comprise all but one of the tracks on the album.
Pay to Play! The Off the Charts Spotify Playlist! + Brace for the Obscure 60s Rock Merchandise
Please consider helping to support my website/blog by contributing $6 a month for access to the Off the Charts Spotify Playlist. Using a term familiar to denizens of Capitol Hill, you pay to play! (ârelating to or denoting an unethical or illicit arrangement in which payment is made by those who want certain privileges or advantages in such arenas as business, politics, sports, and entertainmentâ â dictionary.com).
The playlist includes all the âgreatest songs of the 1960âs that no one has ever heardâ that are available on Spotify — now over 750 songs. The playlist will expand each time I feature an available song.
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THE GREATEST SONGS OF THE 1960s THAT NO ONE HAS EVER HEARD
1,194) The New Mix — âSun Downâ
This wonderful song appeared on the New Mix’s (see #1,184) sole LP, in ’68, and prior to that, when the band had been known as the Eighteenth Edition, was released as an A-side in ’67 (an “interesting psych-tinged single[]” — Bad Cat Records, http://badcatrecords.com/NEWmix.htm). In my mind, the album version is superior, with a great xylophone (?) accompaniment making the song truly stellar. You can listen to the Eighteenth Edition’s version here: https://www.discogs.com/release/12851663-The-Eighteenth-Edition-Sundown.
As to the New Mix and its only LP, Bad Cat Records tells us:
[I]t may not be 1968âs most original release, but as someone who is a big fan of sunshine pop and light-psych, it was an album I was happy to discover and repeatedly play. . . . Bassist Karl Jarvi, singer/lead guitarist Dave Brown, drummer Rob Thorne and keyboardist Henry Steele started their professional careers as the Statesville, North Carolina based The Eighteenth Edition. Like so many of their contemporaries, they were heavily influenced by The Beatles and other mid-â60s British bands. The quartet managed to release a pair of interesting psych-tinged singles for the small local Panther label. . . . Complete with paisley and Nehru jackets (and heavy Southern drawls), the second single even got them a shot lip-synching on the Charleston, South Carolina-based Village Square television show: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lgIMYxGkhAQ By 1968 they band had morphed into The New Mix, scoring a contract with United Artists. Produced by Tommy Kaye, The New Mix featured a collection of all original material with Brown and Steele sharing the writing credits. . . . Imagine a trippier version of The Association and youâd get a pretty good feel . . . . Brown and Steele had an undeniable knack for melding strong melodies, hooks and psych touches. . . . Originality was in short supply. You can play spot-the-influence throughout the album. Occasionally the band got full of themselves and while Brown was a capable singer . . . when he tried to get overly sensitive, or started singing in his higher registers, things took a turn for the worse. Still, itâs hard to believe United Artists didnât even float a single.
Richie Unterberger had a decidedly negative reaction:
This was an era that saw many a generic pop-psychedelic album on major labels, and even in that class, the New Mix didnât stand out. . . . [O]verall itâs a faceless clash of California freak-out psychedelia, sunshine pop, and a bit of British influence in some of the arrangements and harmonies.
The New Mixâs sole album is stereotypical 1968 pop-influenced trendy psychedelia. The ten original songs favor San Francisco psych-folk-rock-influenced minor keys, Doors-Strawberry Alarm Clock-influenced organ, and the odd screeching distorted guitar. The arrangements also nod to a pop influence with harmonies that sometimes recall the Holliesâ brief psychedelic phase . . . and some fruity instrumentation that might have made it into sunshine pop records by the likes of the Association. Itâs a real melange, in other words, and like a salad made up of various excerpts from the weekâs leftovers, it doesnât go together too well or taste too good or fresh. Thereâs little memorable about the songs, and some of the lead vocals have a distasteful stiff, strident air. Perhaps as a rough comparison, you might liken the New Mix to groups with awkward mixes of pop and freaky psych, like Fever Tree and the Strawberry Alarm Clock, but the band isnât even close to their level.
In reaction to this commentary, starcloud4959 stated that âit looks like that reviewer is some type of pompous twatâ. (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7X_XhvZcyBU) Now, I donât agree with Mr. Unterberger here â I think the New Mixâs album tastes real good and real fresh, and I love Fever Tree [see #614] and the Alarm Clock [see #127, 272, 901, 1,111] â but letâs be civil, itâs only rock and roll (and I like it)!
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THE GREATEST SONGS OF THE 1960s THAT NO ONE HAS EVER HEARD
1,193)The Tremeloes — âTill the Sun Goes Downâ
This May Day, enjoy stunning âsoft, acoustic-textured balladry” that “rates right alongside the[ Tremeloes’] best work of the 1960s”. (Bruce Eder (talking about the album as a whole, but I know he meant this song!), https://www.allmusic.com/album/may-morning-mw0000472603) Be warned, though — it comes from the soundtrack to an Italian movie where bad things happen on May Day!
The song has quite a pedigree, or at least its Mellotron does. Geoff Leonard & Pete Walker tell us that:
[Bassist Chip Hawkes] had recently bought [it] from Jeff Lynne . . . . This was the very Mellotron used by the Beatles to record . . . “Strawberry Fields Forever” . . . . [T]he influence of the Fab Four is evident throughout this soundtrack; the Mellotron in particular on “Till the Sun Goes Down”.
liner notes to the CD soundtrack release of May Morning
The song is from the Tremeloes’ soundtrack to Italian director Ugo Liberatore’s May Morning (which had to wait decades to be released after the film failed at the box office). Bruce Eder writes that:
It’s not every day that a three-decade-old, previously unheard soundtrack surfaces — especially one written by one of the most successful pop/rock bands in England. That alone would make May Morning a reasonably important release, but equally to the point, it’s a great record — one of the group’s very best, in fact, and essential listening not just for fans of the Trems, but also for anyone who liked the very late-’60s sounds of the Beatles, Badfinger, et al. . . . The Tremeloes were supposedly just a little past their creative peak by the time they recorded this album — they were riding a number two hit in England at the time, but their fortunes were about to turn, a fact that no one could have guessed when they cut the soundtrack . . . in Rome in the summer of 1970. May Morning is a cheerful, often bracing, always tuneful mix of upbeat pop/rock, bluesy songs, exquisite instrumentals, and soft, acoustic-textured balladry that rates right alongside their best work of the 1960s. . . . In all, this might be the most solid long-player the band ever cut . . . .
Vernon Joynson feels differently, that the soundtrack “was all part of their campaign to disown their pop history and court underground audiences, but on the evidence of this you can see why it didn’t work.” (The Tapestry of Delights Revisited)
As to the flick, Lazarillo says:
It focuses on the the brutal class relations and the storied May Day rituals at the world’s most prestigious university. The protagonist (Alessandro Oranio) is a working-class Italian student attending Oxford on a rowing scholarship and trying to fit in among his aristocratic British peers in an absolutely unforgiving environment of rarefied class privilege. He meets and gets severely teased by the daughter (Jane Birkin) of one of the Oxford “dons” who tutors him. The end, which takes place at the drunken May Day celebration, is absolutely brutal (albeit also pretty unmotivated). It’ll definitely stay with you for a long time afterwords.
Alessio Orano is the male lead and Jane Birkin the female and even money on who is the prettiest. Looks aside Orano is excellent as the politically aware Italian student enrolled at Oxford and disillusioned from the start. [H]e cannot see why whilst the rest of Europe is in turmoil, questioning everything, why the mighty college seems intent to carry on with its weird and bullying ways. The film begins leisurely but soon gets under the skin.
When UK chart-toppers Brian Poole And The Tremeloes parted company in 1966, few would have wagered that the backing group would outdo the lead singer. Remarkably, however, the relaunched Tremeloes went on to eclipse not only Poole, but the original hitmaking act. At the time of their reconvening in 1966, the lineup was comprised of Rick West . . . Alan Blakley . . . Dave Munden . . . and Alan Howard . . . . In May of 1966 Howard was replaced by Mike Clark; however, a mere three months later his spot was taken by Len âChipâ Hawkes . . . whose lead vocals and boyish looks gave the group a stronger visual identity. In order to keep up with the times, the group members abandoned their stage suits in favour of Carnaby Street garb and fashionably longer hair. . . . [Their cover of] âHere Comes My Babyâ (a Cat Stevens composition) smashed into the Top 20 on both sides of the Atlantic. An astute follow-up with âSilence Is Goldenâ, previously the flip side of the Four Seasonsâ âRag Dollâ, proved a perfect vehicle for the Tremeloesâ soft harmonic style and gave them their only UK number 1 and their highest US chart entry (number 11). Having established themselves as a hit act, they notched up an impressive run of hits during the late 60s . . . . At the end of the decade, the Tremeloes seemed weary of their role in the pop world and broke away from their usual Tin Pan Alley songsmiths to write their own material. Their first attempt, â(Call Me) Number Oneâ, was an impressive achievement, probably superior to the material that they had recorded since 1967. When it reached number 2 in the charts, the group members convinced themselves that a more ambitious approach would bring even greater rewards. Overreacting to their dream start as hit writers, they announced that they were âgoing heavyâ and suicidally alienated their pop audience by dismissing their earlier record-buying fans as âmoronsâ. . . . Thereafter, they turned increasingly to cabaret, where their strong live performances were well appreciated. . . .
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The playlist includes all the âgreatest songs of the 1960âs that no one has ever heardâ that are available on Spotify — now over 750 songs. The playlist will expand each time I feature an available song.
All new subscribers will receive a Brace for the Obscure 60s Rock magnet. New subscribers who sign up for a year will also receive a Brace for the Obscure 60s Rock t-shirt or baseball cap. See pictures on the Pay to Play page.
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THE GREATEST SONGS OF THE 1960s THAT NO ONE HAS EVER HEARD
1,192)Tangerine Zoo — âWake Up Sunâ
New England heavy rock rollinâ in from somewhere between Bosstown and Rhode Island. â[T]he instrumental breaks strewn throughout the album are marvel to be behold . . . [like] the extended tribal dance in âWake Up Sunââ (MusicGnomeology, https://rateyourmusic.com/release/album/the-tangerine-zoo/outside-looking-in)
Paul Martin rhapsodizes:
[âWake Upâ is an] excellent, truly psychedelic tune, full of joy and vitality, jumping off with some hard fuzz guitar runs followed by a killer chorus which repeats the line “Wake Up Sun” like an euphoric evocation. It has a strange but yet awesome rhythmic structure and stunning instrumental breaks that are overflowing with the brilliant haunting drums, almost Prunes-like blistering atonal guitar solos and totally mind-blowing swirling mad organ.
[Their second album Outside Looking In is] superior to the debut [album] but still unexceptional to my ears. The sound is typical New England . . . heavy psych rock with organ, fuzz and slow elephantine songs. . . . [A]fter more than a dozen plays I’m having trouble recalling one single hook or line from the album.”
The Acid Archives, The Second Edition
As to the Zoo, Jason Ankeny tells us:
Boston psychedelic band the Tangerine Zoo formed in 1967 in nearby Swansea, MA. . . . [T]he group renamed itself the Flower Pot, abandoning the Ebb Tides’ garage rock sound in favor of a more psychedelic approach. In addition to serving as the house band at the local Venus de Milo restaurant, the band also opened for the likes of the Jimi Hendrix Experience, Van Morrison, and Deep Purple. Their growing popularity was buoyed by a large fan base in Boston, and in late 1967 signed with the New York City-based Mainstream label. While recording their debut LP, label execs demanded another name change, fearing backlash from the obvious marijuana reference in the Flower Pot moniker; after setting on the Tangerine Zoo, the group released its self-titled debut in early 1968. . . . In mid-1969, the Tangerine Zoo was invited to play the Woodstock festival, but were forced to decline due to prior commitments. The band dissolved in 1970, with [singer/guitarist Wayne] Gagnon soon resurfacing in Wadsworth Mansion, which scored a Billboard Top Ten hit with 1971’s “Sweet Mary.”
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The playlist includes all the âgreatest songs of the 1960âs that no one has ever heardâ that are available on Spotify — now over 750 songs. The playlist will expand each time I feature an available song.
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An oddity fallilng somewhere between Curt Boettcher-styled sunshine pop, Association type Top 40, and Animated egg exploito. . . . [It was] a full-fledged concept piece. . . . something to do with the concept of escaping the physical body to experience spiritual embodiment. In spite of the goofy title and lyrics (“Today, I saw the sunrise”) and the fact that the arrangements were full of rather spacey instrumentation, virtually all of the songs were quite commercial.
The Acid Archives, The Second Edition
Beverly Paterson adds:
Composed of studio musicians, most notably the late great guitarist Hugh McCracken, who played with everybody from the Monkees to Simon to Garfunkel to Van Morrison to Steely Dan to John Lennon, the Astral Projection existed for just this one album. As their name implied, the band championed leaving the body. . . . The Astral Scene . . . profiles the beauty, joy and warmth attained when discarding our physical being. No chemical substances are promoted, as the lyrics impress such journeys can be attained from within and life itself is a natural high. Heavily orchestrated and glistening with birdsong harmonies and melodies, The Astral Scene rests firmly on the soft-rock wing occupied by the Cowsills, the Association and the Blades of Grass. The production values are clean and sparkly, the structures are adventurous enough to prompt repeated spins, and the performances are disciplined and proportioned. . . . Rhythms drift, float and soar, and the textures of the tunes are flush with color and motion. Pumping big brass sounds, string arrangements and flower pop motifs into a single blender, The Astral Scene rolls in as an early indication of new age music. Brain food for the ears, the disc is certainly a curious period piece.
A conceptual undertaking meant to reveal the wondrous cycle of the telepathic phenomenon of astral projection. The album somehow manages to communicate the complex precepts of astral experience in lay terms and remain deliciously frothy pop at the softest, most easy-listening end of the spectrum. It works the same sonic conceit as the Fifth Dimension (only in lily-white, soul-lite mode) or the stable of bands . . . produced or helmed by Curt Boettcher, only without the countercultural credibility and legitimately trippy factor. That’s because the album, as with dozens of similar efforts from the era, is really a quasi-exploitive cash-in project. Essentially a studio creation conceived and written by Bernice Ross and Lor Crane, who did not take part in the actual recording . . . . The playing was done by ace sessionmen . . . and then the music overlaid with delicate strings, and a brass and woodwind section. In a sense, it entirely missed the thrust of the decade’s more original and exploratory music that it meant to exploit. But in another cosmically ironic sense, it captures the heady era far more vibrantly than those more important artists, partly because the music of the Astral Projection is nowhere near as timeless as the music of those artists. And partly because the explosive creativity of the era filtered in weird and wonderful ways even down to the eternally unhip music business types responsible for this album, giving them carte blanche to experiment with the money formula, but not too much, thereby resulting in this odd hybrid of commercially minded but ultimately uncommercial music. . . . The Astral Scene is largely soft-pop ambience.
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The playlist includes all the âgreatest songs of the 1960âs that no one has ever heardâ that are available on Spotify — now over 750 songs. The playlist will expand each time I feature an available song.
All new subscribers will receive a Brace for the Obscure 60s Rock magnet. New subscribers who sign up for a year will also receive a Brace for the Obscure 60s Rock t-shirt or baseball cap. See pictures on the Pay to Play page.
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THE GREATEST SONGS OF THE 1960s THAT NO ONE HAS EVER HEARD
1,190)Robin Gibb — âDown Came the Sunâ
From Robin’s (see #497) solo album Robin’s Reign, released amidst the fleeting breakup of the Bee Gees (see #291, 353, 354, 439, 466, 484, 497, 570, 594, 717, 861, 962, 1,065, 1,101, 1,125), comes “vintage Robin Gibb[,] a classic beautifully sung tune that recalls the first Bee Gees album” (Dave Furgess, https://www.headheritage.co.uk/unsung/review/229/), “includ[ing] some typically intriguing Robin lyrics âYou like to think that you are Admiral Nelson with a gun, a wife and sonâ.” (David, https://lightspots.wordpress.com/tag/robin-gibb/)
I love the song and the album, but it is not for everyone. Bruce Eder writes that “too many of the songs (and ‘Down Came the Sun’ is a perfect example), although very pretty, don’t quite go anywhere — they lack a second idea, or a middle eight, or something, to take them to the ending without being predictable.” (https://www.allmusic.com/album/robins-reign-mw0000840610) That’s a great line about some album. In fact, I may borrow it some day! But it doesnât describe Robin’s Reign!
In any event, Eder tells us:
Although not many people remember it today, there was a moment when the Bee Gees’ lineup literally exploded into pieces — in the wake of the 1969 double-LP Odessa, the sibling music trio split, first into two parts, with Barry Gibb and Maurice Gibb initially retaining the Bee Gees name, and later into three parts, as even they stopped working together. You can judge the depth of the antipathy felt between Robin Gibb and his brothers from the lyrics in “Most of My Life,” the last song on the album at hand, which are steeped in bitterness. Ironically, amid a ton of solo activity by all three brothers that resulted from these breakups, Robin’s Reign by Robin Gibb was the only full-length solo effort by any of them to see the light of day commercially, and it contained a number two U.K. hit in “Saved By the Bell.” What is here is almost as much a “lost” Bee Gees creation as the two-man lineup’s Cucumber Castle album . . . the main problem is the “almost.” . . . Much of Robin’s Reign . . . needed just a little bit more work on the composition side — perhaps the input of another of the Gibb siblings — to reach that same standard. . . . [T]he album couldn’t get far enough away from the Bee Gees’ own roots to count as more than a footnote — albeit an often beautiful and reasonably entertaining one — to their history.
By January 1969 it seemed like the Bee Gees . . . and especially Robin, their vibrato singing teen idol â were on top of the world. . . . But clouds were quickly forming. Rumors of drug addiction swirled around 19-year-old Robin, heightened by a nervous collapse and ongoing personal health crises that forced cancellation of an American tour. The actual cause of Robinâs tenuous physical and emotional condition was actually post-traumatic stress brought on in the aftermath of Robin having survived the Hither Green rail crash in November 1967 where 49 people died. While unharmed, Robin was trapped for a time in his car, forced to watch the dead and injured as they were removed . . . . Adding to his personal insecurities, familial tensions in the form of competition with older brother Barry were reaching a head. Odessa producer Robert Stigwood . . . saw Barry as the group leader and favored his songwriting and singing over Robinâs. The final straw occurred when Stigwood released Barryâs âFirst of Mayâ as the next Bee Gees single, relegating Robinâs âLamplightâ to the B-side. Shortly after this perceived slight, Robin announced his departure from the band.
[During t]he 12-month period of Robinâs absence . . . . Barry and Maurice released Cucumber Castle which, while including the hit single âDonât Forget to Rememberâ, stalled on the UK album chart at #57 . . . . Robin[âs] initial single âSaved By the Bellâ reached #2 on the charts, but its parent album Robinâs Reign charted disappointingly and plans for a follow up record were shelved . . . .
When asked why he chose âSaved by the Bellâ as the A-side, Robin explained that: “Everything I write I write to the best of my ability. That is every song I have written could be a single â I never write A-sides that would be an insult to my ego. . . . All the tracks for my first LP could be singles.” (https://www.theguardian.com/music/2012/may/21/robin-gibb-classic-interview)
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The playlist includes all the âgreatest songs of the 1960âs that no one has ever heardâ that are available on Spotify — now over 750 songs. The playlist will expand each time I feature an available song.
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THE GREATEST SONGS OF THE 1960s THAT NO ONE HAS EVER HEARD
1,189)David Bixby — âMorning Sunâ
From Dave Bixbyâs (see #531, 668) âdefinitive loner acid folk albumâ comes a song that has resonated with a lot of people, judging from the hundreds of comments on YouTube (https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=ch5lOo5cL1U&pp=ygUXZGF2aWQgYml4YnkgbW9ybmluZyBzdW4%3D) Here are some heartfelt ones: â[o]ne of the most beautiful songs I have ever heardâ (claramae), âholy f*ck i nearly cry every time i listen to this songâ (bilbobagpipe23842â), a âhauntingly touching songâ (lulululululululuul), and âif I die, I want this to be the song that plays when I’m remembering all the memories I had when I was aliveâ. (vanillasmelody93883)
Now, part of the reason for the outpouring is that the song forms the foundation for the A$AP Rocky song CallDrops. Whoâda thunk it?!
Klemen Breznikar tells us that:
Dave [Bixby] played with folk bands in high school before cutting off his hippie hair to join a religious group. . . . Daveâs ⌠Ode to Quetzalcoatl, was recorded following a long period of time [he] spent in what he calls âthe voidâ. A dark, depressive episode after a prolonged period of taking LSD almost daily. Dave came out of the void and turned to God, a journey and transformation Ode to Quetzalcoatl documents. . . . Daveâs lived a vivid and fascinating life, beginning with his leadership within a Michigan-based Christian cult only known as âThe Groupâ. Always a loner and an adventurer, Dave left the group after being sent to various corners of the country to launch new chapters, built a cabin and lived off the land.
For collectors of the downer/loner folk movement of the late â60s . . . the solo debut from Michigan garage rocker-turned-born-again Xian Dave Bixby . . . go[es] for upwards of $2,000 on eBay. . . . Recorded after he spent a year playing solo and experimenting with LSD, Bixby laid down this album in a living room with the bare bones of amenities. . . . Bixby relies on the strength of his deeply faithful lyrics rooted in the Book of Revelations and the artistâs own personal drug-fueled Armageddon to carry his songs through the night.
Winter of 1968 I was not doing so well. Too many acid trips . . . . I quietly freaked out. I was in hell with no way to communicate it to anyone. Some months later my lead guitar buddy Brian MacInness introduced me to Don DeGraff I ended up in a prayer circle. . . . That night I did my own praying, fell asleep and a new spirit was born in me. . . . I saw peopleâs pain and fear, it was just like mine. I knew what to say to give comfort. Songs began to flood in to me, writing them down I sang them everywhere DeGraff had the first Group meeting at his house with about ten to twelve people and the numbers grew every week eventually needing a bigger building; then we out grew that building. I performed songs every Tuesday night at group meetings. These meetings grew to 300 people. I was asked many times to record an album. I selected twelve songs out of thirty I had written. Each song supported the next song in theme. The Quetzalcoatl story of a Christ like man walking the Americaâs captivated my imagination becoming the title for the LP. . . . In the studio it seemed a little lonely. Ode to Quetzalcoatl is a lonely journey so it all worked well. . . . This album is a concept. Each song is a chapter in a book. The theme throughout is one of stepping out in faith and walking through the darkness into the light. . . . Apocalypse. [Asked in what state of mind he was when he recorded it, Bixby said] I felt new, humbled and grateful. When I prayed I got answers and direction. I was moving forward with out doubt. I was going through a metamorphosis with out words to describe my experience. I captured some of it in song.
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Please consider helping to support my website/blog by contributing $6 a month for access to the Off the Charts Spotify Playlist. Using a term familiar to denizens of Capitol Hill, you pay to play! (ârelating to or denoting an unethical or illicit arrangement in which payment is made by those who want certain privileges or advantages in such arenas as business, politics, sports, and entertainmentâ â dictionary.com).
The playlist includes all the âgreatest songs of the 1960âs that no one has ever heardâ that are available on Spotify — now over 750 songs. The playlist will expand each time I feature an available song.
All new subscribers will receive a Brace for the Obscure 60s Rock magnet. New subscribers who sign up for a year will also receive a Brace for the Obscure 60s Rock t-shirt or baseball cap. See pictures on the Pay to Play page.
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This is about as good a 1960s femme psych album as youâll find. Itâs wholly original and unlike a lot of singer-songwriter types of the era, the two women . . . had considerable creative input, and wrote seven of the ten songs. The music is a reasonable cross between British folk-rock and American psychedelia (with a strong Indian influence), and is the most interesting and successful album by a â60âs folkrock-psych duo, male or female. It also rocks with conviction . . . .
The Acid Archives (Second ed.)
Richie Unterberger adds:
Much mystery surrounds Jan & Lorraine, a female duo who recorded an obscure folk-rock album, Gypsy People, in London in October 1969. Jan Hendin and Lorraine Le Fevre [who wrote “Snow Roses”] both sang (often in harmony) on the record, did the ensemble arrangements, and also wrote (working separately) most of the material. . . . Hendin handled electric and acoustic guitars, piano, and organ, and Le Fevre contributed acoustic guitar as well. In part because the LP didnât sound much like other British folk-rock efforts of the time, there was conjecture that [they] might have actually been Americans (and, in fact, it has been reported that the duo hailed from Detroit, Michigan when the album was recorded), despite the record being cut in London. And it does have a greater American influence to its mildly psychedelic late-â60s folk-rock than most British efforts in the genre, with stirring, slightly strident singing; some slight pop accents . . . and some occasional exotic Eastern sounds on tamboura and tabla. The recordâs slightly moody and introspective, though pleasant (and sometimes a little loosely drifting) in feel . . . .
[A]lthough the set was recorded in London, slotting neatly into the contemporary British folk-prog scene, their accents tell another tale, supporting the veracity of at least one report that they hailed from Detroit, Michigan . . . . [I]tâs the intensity of the multi-instrumentalist pairâs delivery that sets Jan & Lorraine apart, with the women attacking both their vocals and guitars in particular with absolute gusto. There are, however, decidedly British elements leaking into the set as well . . . . Although supported by a clutch of guest musicians, Jan & Lorraine still asserted their independence. In a day when women artists had little control over their music, the pair not only penned the bulk of the set, they arranged it all. And itâs here the duo truly excelled, for the use of instrumentation is inspired, each song carefully crafted to create maximum effect. . . . [T[he pairâs past was shrouded in mystery, and once they packed up and left, their future destination was equally unknown. But Jan & Lorraine left behind a stunning, fiery album, as thrilling and exotic as a Gypsy dance.
Janice Grahm was my mother in law. She passed away in 1994. Her daughter (my wife) has a credit on the album as Taki (greek for loved one. Jan was a very accomplished musician (masters degree from Harvard) and a very loving person. Lorraine is living in souther California and teaches guitar in the Palmdale area. . . . Jan and Lorraine were from Detroit MI.
Pay to Play! The Off the Charts Spotify Playlist! + Brace for the Obscure 60s Rock Merchandise
Please consider helping to support my website/blog by contributing $6 a month for access to the Off the Charts Spotify Playlist. Using a term familiar to denizens of Capitol Hill, you pay to play! (ârelating to or denoting an unethical or illicit arrangement in which payment is made by those who want certain privileges or advantages in such arenas as business, politics, sports, and entertainmentâ â dictionary.com).
The playlist includes all the âgreatest songs of the 1960âs that no one has ever heardâ that are available on Spotify — now over 750 songs. The playlist will expand each time I feature an available song.
All new subscribers will receive a Brace for the Obscure 60s Rock magnet. New subscribers who sign up for a year will also receive a Brace for the Obscure 60s Rock t-shirt or baseball cap. See pictures on the Pay to Play page.
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[It is] cracker of a song . . . with Eddie Hardin sounding uncannily like Steve Winwood with that excellent organ swirling, and lets not forget that wwhhheeessshhhh sound of the flanging/phasing effect that is on this, this is certainly psych inspired but going other places, but its a fabulous song . . . .
[T]he LP showcased Hardin’s Winwood-esque vocals and swirling Hammond organ and York’s forceful drumming. While the duo could create a mighty sound on their own, Hurst thickened their psychedelic R&B sound with background vocalists Sue and Sunny, orchestral embellishments, and musicians including guitarist Vic Flick and bassist Herbie Flowers. Hardin continued to grow as a songwriter, penning most of the album’s original material.
Hardin & York’s debut album was quite competent yet derivative early progressive rock, and derivative of Traffic in particular. At least, however, it came by its influences quite honestly, Pete York having drummed behind Steve Winwood in thr Spencer Davis Group and Eddie Hardin having joined the Spencer Davis Group. after Winwood left. . . . Hardin sings and writes uncannily like Winwood circa Trafficâs âForty Thousand Headmen” period, but while that’s a good standard to shoot for, therein also lies the problem: it’s not quite as good . . . and certainly not as original. . . . [But] this is pretty decent stuff. . . . Hardinâs vocals are impressively rich and gritty, and his piano and organ quite skillful.
The unusual power duo of keyboardist/vocalist Eddie Hardin and drummer Pete York made a few albums in the late ’60s and early ’70s, and were aptly described as a cross between Traffic and Procul Harum . . . . with their blend of hard rock, soul, progressive, and jazz influences . . . . Both . . . left the Winwood-less Spencer Davis Group in October 1968, and teamed up shortly afterward to form a two-man group . . . . unusual in rock to this day, and as far as two-person organ-drum combos go, the only other one of note from that period was used by Lee Michaels . . . . Hardin covered the bass parts with the left hand of his organ, and the result was actually a pretty full band sound for just the two members. However, on their three albums, the duo was sometimes augmented by horns, flute, guitar, backup female vocals, and other orchestration. Although Hardin & York weren’t that big in the U.K. or U.S., they had more success on the European Continent, particularly in Germany, where they were big both on record and as a touring act. . . . In 1971 each member started playing with their own bands as well (the Pete York Percussion Band and Hardin/Fenwick/Newman), occasionally playing in those bands on the same bill as live Hardin & York concerts. . . . [G]uitariat Ray Fenwick . . . joined Hardin & York in mid-1972, at which point the act’s name changed to Hardin, York & Fenwick.
Their stage show was energetic and, with just the two of them, it needed to be to capture the attention of the audience. They did this by using the dynamics of a sole keyboard player along with a jazz rooted drummer who packed a mighty punch, their interplay was dazzling and effusive at times . . . .
Pay to Play! The Off the Charts Spotify Playlist! + Brace for the Obscure 60s Rock Merchandise
Please consider helping to support my website/blog by contributing $6 a month for access to the Off the Charts Spotify Playlist. Using a term familiar to denizens of Capitol Hill, you pay to play! (ârelating to or denoting an unethical or illicit arrangement in which payment is made by those who want certain privileges or advantages in such arenas as business, politics, sports, and entertainmentâ â dictionary.com).
The playlist includes all the âgreatest songs of the 1960âs that no one has ever heardâ that are available on Spotify — now over 750 songs. The playlist will expand each time I feature an available song.
All new subscribers will receive a Brace for the Obscure 60s Rock magnet. New subscribers who sign up for a year will also receive a Brace for the Obscure 60s Rock t-shirt or baseball cap. See pictures on the Pay to Play page.
When subscribing, please send me an e-mail (GMFtma1@gmail.com) or a comment on this site letting me know an e-mail address/phone number/Facebook address, etc. to which I can send instructions on accessing the playlist and a physical address to which I can sent a magnet/t-shirt/baseball cap. If choosing a t-shirt, please let me know the gender and size you prefer.
Just click on the first blue block for a month to month subscription or the second blue block for a yearly subscription.
THE GREATEST SONGS OF THE 1960s THAT NO ONE HAS EVER HEARD
1,186) P.J. Proby — âThree Week Heroâ
Yesterday we heard from a rock star despairing over his fans wanting him to be God and bemoaning that the more he gave, the more people asked of him. Today we hear from a âthree weekâ sensation who finds to his dismay that “I’m no longer mobbed cause my last two records bombed and I squandered all the money that I had.” Wild man P.J. Proby’s â69 B-side “opens with a blues riff . . . and then P.J. in a cod country voice sings, ‘I’m a three week hero, I started with a zero, And I sold a million records on my own.'” (Spencer Leigh, https://rockasteria.blogspot.com/2012/06/pj-proby-three-weeks-hero-1969-uk.html) It’s a hoot. And to top it all off, “Hero” comes from a P.J. Proby LP backed and arranged by John Paul Jones, who was assisted by his friends Jimmy Page, John Bonham and Robert Plant (though only on harmonica) shortly before their first live performance as Led Zeppelin!
Spencer Leigh gives us some background on the LP:
Steve Rowland . . . . formed a group with session singers and musicians including Albert Hammond and Mike Hazelwood and called them the Family Dogg. They had a Top 10 hit in 1969 with ‘A Way Of Life’. Rowland, an American in England like Proby, became friendly with him and agreed to produce his next album . . . . He asked the Family Dogg to be backing vocalists . . . . [and] recruited Jimmy Page . . . John Paul Jones . . . and their new friends, Robert Plant . . . and John Bonham . . . to accompany him. . . . John Paul Jones wrote most of the arrangements. Although the album is now regarded as P.J.Proby backed by Led Zeppelin, the only track on which they really sound like that is ‘Jim’s Blues’. Three Week Hero is a schizophrenic, even quadrophrenic, album. It has no idea of its market . . . . . [It] was released in October 1969 and sold miserably.
[John Paul] Jones asked if he could bring in his own group for the session, thinking it would serve as a rehearsal of sorts before they went into the studio themselves and Rowland agreed. Jones told Chris Welch: âI was committed to doing all the arrangements for the album. As we were talking about rehearsing at the time, I thought it would be a handy source of income. I had to book a band anyway, so I thought Iâd book everybody I knew.â Itâs not known exactly when the two-day recording commenced, but August 25th, 1968 is probably the correct date, and would mark the very first time that Led Zeppelin, then still-known as The New Yardbirds, would enter a recording studio together.
P.J. himself recalls (in conversation with Corbin at the Finding Zoso: Discovering the Music of Jimmy Page website:
About 1968, a friend of mine from Hollywood, Steve Roland had come over to London and had done pretty well as a producer for . . . Dave, Dee Dozy, Beaky, Mick & Tich. So I went down to Steve and asked him to produce my next album, EMI wanted one out now. . . . [H]e said, âIâll put a band together for you.â So when I got to the studio that day, there was what they called, âThe New Yardbirdsâ. There was Jimmy Page . . . and John Bonham and another guy Paul Jones and Albert Lee. Anyway, we recorded that album, I think it was in two days. We even undershot, we recorded it with about thirty-five minutes left over, and so Roland yelled down, âWhy donât you all busket? We shouldnât waste the studio time.â I told the boys, âYâall start picking and Iâll write as you pick.â So the three last numbers on the album, âIt’s So Hard to Be a N*gger/Jim’s Blues/George Wallace is Rollin’ in This Morninââ, I just made up as the boys played. Afterwards, I said, âMan, yâall did a terrific job. Iâve got some tours coming up, would you back me?â They said, âWeâd love to, weâll be your backing band, but first weâve got two obligations weâve got to honour in California[“] . . . . The boys told me they were going over to play in San Francisco and all that, and I said, âLook, from what Iâve heard and the way you boys played tonight, not only are you not going to be my backing band, Iâm going to say goodbye right now, because I donât think Iâm ever going to see you again. Thatâs how successful youâre going to be. Youâre exactly what they want, you play all that psychedelic stuff and everything. . . . Youâre going to go over there and go down so great I donât think youâre ever going to come home.â
Born and mostly raised in Texas, rock & roller P.J. Proby never really hit it big in his homeland, but his trouser-busting stage antics helped make him a genuine pop star in England at the height of the British Invasion. . . . [I]n late 1963, Proby met British producer Jack Good, who happened to be putting together a TV special on the Beatles that was to feature several other up-and-coming artists. Proby’s demo tape impressed . . . Brian Epstein enough for him to make the cut, and Good outfitted Proby as an aristocratic fop, complete with ponytail, frilly shirt, tight velvet pants, and buckled shoes. After the special aired worldwide, Proby’s first British single, “Hold Me” . . . rocketed into the U.K. Top Five in early 1964. Proby’s next two singles, “Together” and West Side Story’s “Somewhere,” took a similar tack, and both reached the British Top Ten as well. In early 1965, Proby was booked as part of a package tour, and on one of the London dates in late January, his pants ripped open from the knee all the way up. Proby claimed it was an accident, but when the same thing happened at the next show (much to the audience’s delight), the censors descended and banned Proby from performing on television or in theaters. . . . Proby . . . scor[ed] another Top Ten hit with another West Side Story cover, “Maria,” in late 1965. . . . The lack of promotional opportunities began to hurt Proby’s chart placements, though, and he was also beset with financial problems. He attempted to crack the American market in 1967 and actually did land a Top 40 hit with “Niki Hoeky[.]” . . .
P.J. Proby had his run of hits and had wrecked his career by ripping his velvet trousers, perhaps deliberately, on stage. . . . [H]e attributes his wild behaviour as a reaction to the discipline he endured in a military school. He moved to Hollywood and hung out with Elvis Presley, Ricky Nelson and Eddie Cochran. He cut scores of demos and wrote “Ain’t Gonna Kiss Ya'” . . . on a hit EP by the Searchers, and “Clown Shoes” for Johnny Burnette. He had had problems with the police and the Revenue in the US [going bankrupt] and he was gratified when Jack Good offered him a guest spot in his UK TV spectacular, Around The Beatles, which was screened in May 1964. Eddie Cochran’s fiancee, Sharon Sheeley, gave him a new name for the show – P.J.Proby, but apart from that, “I created P.J. Proby totally alone. The ponytail, the buckle shoes, the big-sleeved shirts were all me[â] . . . . The TV special drew 8 millions viewers and âHold Meâ which Proby had cut in the UK with . . . Jimmy Page on lead [g]uitar, soared to N.3. Page played a distinctive [g]uitar solo on his follow-up hit, âTogetherâ and he can be heard on several other Proby recordings â âZing! Went The Strings Of My Heart”, “Stagger Lee”, “Linda Lu”, “Rockin’ Pneumonia And The Boogie Woogie Flu”, “Let The Water Run Down” and “Hanging From Your Loving Tree”. . . . Proby says that the campaign against him was spearheaded by Mary Whitehouse and that showbusiness moguls wanted him deported as he was an American earning good English money. P.J. Proby’s conspiracy theories are second only to those following Kennedy’s assassination.
Pay to Play! The Off the Charts Spotify Playlist! + Brace for the Obscure 60s Rock Merchandise
Please consider helping to support my website/blog by contributing $6 a month for access to the Off the Charts Spotify Playlist. Using a term familiar to denizens of Capitol Hill, you pay to play! (ârelating to or denoting an unethical or illicit arrangement in which payment is made by those who want certain privileges or advantages in such arenas as business, politics, sports, and entertainmentâ â dictionary.com).
The playlist includes all the âgreatest songs of the 1960âs that no one has ever heardâ that are available on Spotify — now over 750 songs. The playlist will expand each time I feature an available song.
All new subscribers will receive a Brace for the Obscure 60s Rock magnet. New subscribers who sign up for a year will also receive a Brace for the Obscure 60s Rock t-shirt or baseball cap. See pictures on the Pay to Play page.
When subscribing, please send me an e-mail (GMFtma1@gmail.com) or a comment on this site letting me know an e-mail address/phone number/Facebook address, etc. to which I can send instructions on accessing the playlist and a physical address to which I can sent a magnet/t-shirt/baseball cap. If choosing a t-shirt, please let me know the gender and size you prefer.
Just click on the first blue block for a month to month subscription or the second blue block for a yearly subscription.