Fifty years ago a singer named Lyn Collins released a funk record that would become a very influential song in hip hop; samples from it were used in dozens of rap songs. That record, written and produced by James Brown, was “Think (About It).”
“Think (About It)’ only made it to #66 on Billboard’s Hot 100, but did reach the top 10 on the Soul chart.
If you’re familiar with “It Takes Two” by Rob Base & DJ E-Z Rock, you will instantly recognize the distinctive “Woo-Yeah” sample that is the heart of “It Takes Two.” A 1989 article in Spin magazine ranked it as the greatest single of all time! (Spin was obviously trying hard to be hip.)
On its own, “Think” is a fun listen. The grooves are funky and support Collins’ muscular growl. Her performance is worthy of the female empowerment lyrics.
Hey, fellas I’m talking to you, you and you too Do you guys know who I’m talking to?
Those of you who go out and stay Out all night and half the next day And expect us to be home When you get there
But let me tell you something The sisters are not going for that no more ‘Cause we realize two things That you aren’t doing anything for us We can better do by ourselves
So from now on, we gonna use What we got to get what we want
So, you’d better think, think Now’s the time when we have That’s the thing I never will forget
Collins died in 2005 at the age of 56, from heart disease.
Today’s SotW is coming to you from the great city of New Orleans. It is quite a bit different than most of my posts. For starters, it reaches back to the early 1930s, by far the oldest song I’ve ever featured. It is “Heebie Jeebies” by NOLA’s own Boswell Sisters.
The Boswell Sisters were a trio of real-life siblings led by Connie Boswell, who was unable to walk due to a childhood bout with polio, and her sisters Martha and Vet. As a result, the group typically performed with Connie and Martha seated at the piano with Vet standing behind them. This was a ploy designed to disguise Connie’s disability.
When you first hear this song, it will remind you of other female, harmony vocal groups, like the Andrew Sisters, whom the Boswells preceded and influenced. But don’t be fooled. The Boswells were classically trained musicians but were also jazz hipsters true to their New Orleans roots. In fact, the original recording of “Heebie Jeebies” was originally recorded by New Orleans jazz icon Louis Armstrong and his Hot Five in 1926.
But don’t take my word for it. In his book Eminent Hipsters, Steely Dan’s Donald Fagen discusses the Boswells’ version of “Heebie Jeebies.”
The Boswells could have just remade the record in their key. Instead, they bust the piece out by giving it a nuanced dramatic structure complete with tempo changes, ritenutos (slowdowns), additional lyrics, new melodic material, special vocal effects and their unmatchable group dynamics…
After a wordless introduction, the Sisters rip into the chorus. They’ve got the heebie jeebie blues and the only cure is to bring the feeling to critical mass by doing the heebie jeebie dance. Then Martha’s piano slows to an easy blues tempo and Connie, in an ethereal solo, explains the situation:
I been havin’ ‘em – havin’ ‘em all day long
I got the heebies but I can’t go wrong
‘Cause when I got ‘em I just roll along
Now listen everybody while I sing this song…
The newly composed melody and lyrics in this section totally change the character of the piece. Suddenly, having a case of the heebie jeebies isn’t all that funny. It’s a specific sort of agitated depression, and moreover, now stated by Connie as a gentle blues, it’s a state of mind specific to women. Banishing the blue devils with a beat, Martha and Vet then join in at the faster tempo. One chorus later, they paraphrase Armstrong’s scat vocal, but arranged as an ensemble for all three voices. Finally, they correct the Hot Fives’ famously flubbed hokum finish, and all is well again on Camp Street. The Boswells have transformed Armstrong’s party tune into a sonic moving picture of a woman’s inner life over a day’s time. And all this without sacrificing any jazz heat.
Here’s the Louis Armstrong version for context.
There are two items of note regarding Armstrong’s recording. The first is that accounts of the recording session have reported that his scat vocal was spontaneous because he dropped his lyric sheet during the take. The other point of interest is what Fagen referred to as the “famously flubbed hokum finish.” Wikipedia describes it as “a line (that) is delivered too early, leaving the break over which it should have been spoken completely empty.”
If you like this song by the Boswell Sisters, dig a little deeper. There are treasures to be discovered!
I had this idea to write a post that featured a few of my favorite rock songs with a Latin flavor. But not the obvious ones performed by Latin artists like Santana. As I listened to them, I realized I didn’t have the technical expertise to properly describe them. Were they Samba, Rhumba, Bossa Nova? How do you tell the difference?
I strive for factual accuracy in these posts (though I’m sure I’ve made mistakes) so I gave a list of my selections to my high school friend, Dan D, who has a DMA (Doctor of Musical Arts) and teaches courses in trumpet, Chamber Music, Music Theory and The Beatles. I asked Dan for help. Here’s what he had to say:
So I gave a listen to these (songs) with your question in mind. The Samba, Rhumba, and Bossa Nova all share similar characteristics and each one of these works are not completely defined by the Latin genre – they are Latin-infused rock tunes. The genre not closely identified in any of them as rhumba. The conga sound is prevalent in any of them. For rhumba, the Beatle cover of “Mr. Moonlight” by Roy Lee Johnson fits that bill. Samba and Bossa Nova are closely allied. Often, the Bossa Nova is associated with jazz idioms. I could identify a jazz flavor in the Guess Who and Steely Dan tunes but it is not really that strong to differentiate. So with all that said, I am most apt to describe these tunes with a Samba flavor. Whew! A long, winding answer!
Thanks, Dan! So here are a few tunes I like that are loosely tied together through “a Samba flavor.”
“Undun” was the B-side to The Guess Who’s “Laughing.” Written by Randy Bachman, it reached #22 on the Billboard Hot 100 in 1969. (“Laughing” rose to #10.) In an interview with Ear of the Newt, Bachman was quoted saying “I remember the joy of hearing that (“Undun”) on the radio, figuring ‘Wow, a song with more than three chords,’ you know, ‘with lyrics that don’t rhyme.’ “
He goes on to describe the inspiration for the song came when he learned about a woman who went into a coma after taking some bad acid at a party he attended in Vancouver.
“Sunlight” comes from one of my favorite Buried Treasure albums – Elephant Mountain (1969), by The Youngbloods. Lester Bangs endorsed the album in his review for Rolling Stone. Written by Jesse Colin Young, “Sunlight” is an ode for a special woman.
Have you seen the sunlight pouring through her hair Felt her warm mouth on you in the summer’s air Running in a field of brown Laughing rolling on the ground Smiling as she pulls you down That’s the way she feels about you
Three Dog Night, who in their early days were masters at finding great songs to record, covered “Sunlight” on their 1970 album Naturally.
Steely Dan’s “Only a Fool Would Say That” (1972) has often been interpreted as a dig at John Lennon’s utopian worldview as professed in “Imagine.” This position was recently described in an article in Far Out, by Sam Kemp.
I’m not sure I buy into Kemp’s thesis. Steely Dan’s lyrics are always cryptic and subject to varied interpretations. To me, it’s a cynical knock on hippy idealism more generally.
Wait until the very end of the song where you can hear laughter and someone utter the phrase “Jiji, solamente un tonto lo mencionara”, “Only a fool would say that” in Spanish!
The debut, eponymous album by Marshall Crenshaw was released 40 years ago this month. It is a really fine album, filled with catchy songs that his fans love, but has flown under the radar for most people, even many music lovers.
Crenshaw received his first break in the music industry in the late ‘70s when he won a slot in the musical Beatlemania, in the role of John Lennon. It was during his stint with the show that he wrote many of the songs on Marshall Crenshaw, including the popular “Someday, Someway.”
“Someday, Someway” sparkles with jangly power-pop hooks and harmonies, with a nod to ‘50s Rockabilly. It’s impossible to hold back a smile when you hear it.
In a PBS program, On Canvas, that first aired in 2013, Crenshaw said that the lyrics for “Someday, Someway” were written to describe “the awkward beginnings of a marriage” when you suddenly realize you’re in something permanent.
I can’t stand to see you sad I can’t bear to hear you cry If you can’t tell me what you need All I can do is wonder why
Someday, someway aww Someday, someway, yeah now Someday, someway Maybe I’ll understand you
After all you’ve done for me All I really want to do Is take the love you brought my way And give it all right back to you
The album was given a brighter sheen with the help of producer Richard Gotterher, who did the same for Blondie and The Go-Gos.
Back in 1976, a band called Klaatu released their first album. For some reason they chose to package the album without any photos or credits. This anonymity led to speculation as to who was behind this “mystery band.”
That speculation took flight when journalist Steven Smith, of the Providence Journal, published an article suggesting that Klaatu might really be The Beatles, reunited under a pseudonym. This rumor seemed to be supported by the Beatlesque sound of some of the recordings and the coincidence that they were released on Capitol Records – the same as The Beatles’ early records in the US.
It was later revealed that Klaatu was a group of Canadian musicians. “Sub-Rosa Subway” and “Calling Occupants of Interplanetary Craft” were minor hits (both reached #62 on the Billboard Hot 100). “Interplanetary” was covered by The Carpenters who carried it to #32 in the US in 1977.
Around the same time, in the mid-’70s, another band chose to labor in obscurity – San Francisco’s Art Rock band, The Residents.
In a 2018 article for NPR Music, writer Jason Roth described The Residents’ approach to music:
The group’s musical canon – comprising over 60 albums that collectively are more of an ongoing act of cultural subversion than a traditional catalog of songs – includes a “four-part trilogy” of concept albums about a subterranean race of mole people, a record that contains exactly 40 one-minute-long commercials for itself and an album of Eskimo folk music consisting of what The Residents imagined Eskimo folk music might sound like. Which also, naturally, provided the group with its critical and commercial breakthrough.
The Residents’ debut album was titled Meet the Residents and had one of the best covers ever – a defaced parody of Meet the Beatles (released on April Fool’s Day, 1974). This too, caused some rumors to circulate that The Beatles were behind the group.
The album opens with an anarchistic, deconstructed (unrecognizable) version of Nancy Sinatra’s “The Boots Are Made For Walking.” Not everyone will be able to make it through the cut’s brief, less than 2 minutes, of chaos.
From 2010 to 2016, the band toured using the character names “Randy, Chuck, and Bob.” But in 2017, Hardy Fox revealed himself as the primary composer for the band as well as “Chuck.” Apparently he decided to finally expose his identity because he was sick and dying.
If you’re a fan or are interested in learning more about The Residents, check out the new book documenting their history from 1972 to 1983.
About a month ago I went to see Jason Isbell with a few friends at the Warfield in San Francisco. Shawn Colvin did a nice solo set to warm up the audience, then Isbell took the stage with his talented band – The 400 Unit — including his wife, Amanda Shires (singer, songwriter, fiddle), who only joins Isbell on occasion due to the commitments of her own successful career.
One of the highlights of the set was his signature song, “Traveling Alone.”
Isbell has recounted a story about meeting Bruce Springsteen where The Boss told him that he was introduced to “Traveling Alone” by his son – then proceeded to sing the chorus to Isbell.
I’ve grown tired of traveling alone
Tired of traveling alone
I’ve grown tired of traveling alone
Won’t you ride with me?
But the song is much more than that catchy chorus. It is a semi-autobiographical story about how he needed Shires to help him through a rehab program to end the downward spiral his life was in due to alcoholism.
I quit talking to myself
Listening to the radio
Long, long time ago
Damn near strangled by my appetite
Ybor City on a Friday night
Couldn’t even stand up right
So high the street girls wouldn’t take my pay
They said come see me on a better day
She just danced away
Isbell is known to include covers in his set. He has recorded and/or performed Springsteen’s “Born in the USA” and “Because the Night.” On the night we saw him, he closed his set with a kick-ass version of early Fleetwood Mac standard “Oh Well.”
Last November, Disney+ relased The Beatles: Get Back. The three episode documentary, directed by Peter Jackson of Lord of the Rings fame, took 60 hours of film footage and 150 hours of audio tape — from 22 days in January 1969 — and reconstructed it into an 8 hour, “fly on the wall” experience that seeks to revise the negative vibe and historical record of what actually occurred during the sessions that culminated in the original Let it Be movie from 1970. At that, The Beatles: Get Back succeeds.
However, it can’t be denied that a mere 15 months later, on April 10, 1970, Paul McCartney announced that The Beatles had broken up through his ambiguous answers to the questions he was asked during an interview about his first solo album, McCartney.
I was browsing through the recent Paul McCartney book The Lyrics: 1956 to the Present that my wife gave me for Christmas. It has the lyrics to 156 McCartney compositions along with his commentary and loads of photos and memorabilia.
I was interested in his explanation of the lyrics to “Too Many People”, from 1971’s Ram.
He explains:
This song was written a year or so after The Beatles breakup, at a time when John was firing missiles at me with his songs, and one or two of them were quite cruel. I don’t know what he hoped to gain, other than punching me in the face. The whole thing really annoyed me.
The key lyrics blame John for the breakup and scold him for preaching and telling people how they ought to live.
That was your first mistake You took your lucky break and broke it in two.
Now what can be done for you? You broke it in two.
Too many people preaching practices Don’t let ’em tell you what you wanna be Too many people holding back This is crazy, and baby, it’s not like me
What surprised me was that John’s most scathing song aimed at Paul, “How Do You Sleep”, was written as a response to “Too Many People.” I had originally thought it was the other way around. “How Do You Sleep” was on Lennon’s Imagine that was released about 4 months after Ram.
John’s basic personality had an acerbic, mean spirited side that was foreign to the genial McCartney. So John’s swipes were direct stabs to the heart where McCartney’s were more subtle. John says:
So Sgt. Pepper took you by surprise You better see right through that mother’s eyes Those freaks was right when they said you was dead The one mistake you made was in your head
You live with straights who tell you, you was king Jump when your momma tell you anything The only thing you done was yesterday And since you’ve gone you’re just another day
Those last lines are references to McCartney’s signature Beatles’ tune, “Yesterday”, and the soft rock of his solo song from Ram, “Another Day.” Ouch!
I’d like to think that if John were still alive today, these past grievences would be forgiven and settled, and the Lennon/McCartney team would be friends again.
Have you ever heard of the ‘70s rock band, Be-Bop Deluxe? Have you ever heard Be-Bop Deluxe?
The British band released five excellent studio albums of obscure progressive rock, helmed by songwriter, vocalist, and guitarist extraordinaire, Bill Nelson.
Many consider the third album, Sunburst Finish, to be their best album, I included. (All of their first three albums make references to guitar terminology – Axe Victim, using the slang, axe, for a guitar; Futurama, a brand of mid-priced guitars popular in England in the late ‘50s/early ‘60s; and Sunburst Finish, a recognizable style of finish very popular on Fender Stratocasters and Gibson Les Pauls.) It also had a provocative cover with a silhouetted, naked woman. I’m surprised it wasn’t banned like similar covers for records by Roxy Music and Golden Earring.
“Sleep That Burns”, from Sunburst, captures what Be-Bop Deluxe was all about.
The song opens with galloping hard rock, goes to a middle section with a Latin feel, then returns to climax with a screaming guitar solo.
Lyrically, the song describes an anxiety filled night of insomnia:
The night winds are howling… Seducing the trees, I wake in a cold sweat With the sheets ‘round my knees
I lay in the darkness With visionless eyes… Exhausted and reeling… All heartbeats and sighs…
But the sleep still burns, Got a sleep that burns all night
Sunburst also marked the debut credit for the successful producer, John Leckie (XTX, Radiohead).
If you find Sunburst Finish to be of interest, you can dig deeper and watch the 45 minute documentary, The Making of Sunburst Finish, on YouTube.
Today’s SotW was written by guest contributor, Michael Paquette. This is Michael’s sixth post since February 2020.
Doc Pomus was a blues singer in the 1940s who would later become one of the most prolific songwriters in American history. He was crippled by polio as a child and spent most of his adult life confined to a wheelchair. Doc Pomus was married to the Broadway actress and dancer Willi Burke. On their wedding day she danced with friends and family while he wrote the lyrics to today’s SotW. Here is the 1960 version of “Save The Last Dance for Me” by the Drifters with a classic vocal by Ben E. King.
The song was released as a B-side but Dick Clark flipped it over and decided it was the stronger song. He was proven right when it became a number one hit on all the charts. It was also released by The Searchers and later recorded by Emmylou Harris, Dolly Parton, and the European star Dalida, who, because she could sing songs in ten different languages, was the most Internationally famous French singer in history.
The song contains the refrain that captures the mood: “But don’t forget who’s taking you home / and in whose arms you’re gonna be / so darling, save the last dance for me.”
Doc Pomus was born Jerome Felder and he liked to say that he was called Doc because his songs made you feel good. This song, along with several other classic hits he wrote, including “This Magic Moment,” A Teenager In Love,” “Turn Me Loose,” “Suspicion,” and “Surrender”, certainly fit the bill.
Elvis recorded 20 songs written or co-written by Doc Pomus (mostly with Mort Shuman) including the classic “Little Sister.” Doc Pomus never actually met Elvis. He was in a press line waiting to meet him at the Hilton in NYC in 1974 but \ before he got the chance he was told that Elvis had left the building. Three years later they arranged a meeting but Elvis died a week before it was to happen which spooked Doc.
Doc Pomus had a revival to his career in the late 1970s, writing songs for Dr. John and producing the debut albums for Roomful of Blues and the Fabulous Thunderbirds (unreleased).
He was the first white recipient of the Rhythm & Blues Foundation Pioneer Award and he is a member of the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame and the Songwriters Hall of Fame.
His songs were recorded by Mink DeVille, Bob Dylan, Brian Wilson, Dr. John, Solomon Burke, John Hiatt, Shawn Colvin, Lou Reed, The Band, B. B. King, Roseanne Cash, Charlie Rich, Andy Williams, Ruth Brown, Marianne Faithful, Irma Thomas, Joe Cocker, ZZ Top, The New York Dolls, Los Lobos, Dion and hundreds of others.
Doc Pomus died on March 14, 1991, of lung cancer at the age of 65 at NYU Medical Center in Manhattan. His legend and songs live on. “Save The Last Dance for Me” is one of my favorites from his incredible library of work.
The LP (long playing) record album was introduced by Columbia Records in 1948. At the time, shellac “78s” (records played at the speed of 78 RPM – revolutions per minute) were the standard. “45s” (7 inch discs with one song per side, played at 45 RPM) were introduced by RCA in 1949. For many years, the recorded music market was dominated by singles.
With the introduction of stereo LP and high fidelity reproduction equipment, the album slowly became the dominant format, reaching its heyday with ‘70s rock music.
Even though cassettes, then CDs, took over from the vinyl record format, the album was still the preferred way for fans to consume their music. But with the evolution from physical records to digital devices that began 20 years ago with the iPod, today streaming services like Spotify are the dominant listening format.
The digital formats have had an unintended consequence; their convenience in selecting songs and building playlists has returned us to being singles consumers. Most people, especially those under 40, rarely listed to full albums – sadly, me included.
But that’s not without exception. There was one 2021 album release that I tend to listen to from start to finish – St. Vincent’s (aka Annie Clark) Daddy’s Home. Yes, it’s that good!
The album title refers to the real life situation of her father being released from prison after being convicted in 2010 for his involvement in a stock manipulation fraud.
“Live in the Dream” is the fourth track on the album. It starts as a dreamy dirge reminiscent of Pink Floyd’s “Us and Them”, from their Dark Side of the Moon album, builds to a crescendo with a screaming Clark guitar solo, then drops back to its wistful beginning.
“The Melting of the Sun” follows.
“The Melting of the Sun” has a ‘70s soul/funk/R&B feel. St. Vincent takes a little from Sly Stone and a bit from Stevie Wonder and makes it her own. I dig the sounds of the clavinet and electric sitar.
The song opens with the line “So sorry, missed the party/Hello, on the dark side of the moon.” I find it hard to believe this is a coincidence.
It has been reported that St. Vincent took inspiration for the writing of this album after rooting through her dad’s record collection. If true, that would bring us full circle.
Listen to the whole album. Then listen to it again. You will be rewarded for the familiarity.
