Ricky Nelson: "Poor Little Fool"

July 28, 1958 (3 weeks)

By rights, everyone should have hated Ricky Nelson. He was born to parents who were already radio stars in the US and their fame would only increase as they made the effortless move to television. Ricky and his older brother David would join their folks on the hugely popular sitcom The Adventures of Ozzie and Harriet which made them show business royalty. Not content to be stuck in their shadow, the younger Nelson boy decided to become a rock 'n' roll singer at the age of sixteen and quickly succeeded in that field too. So much for paying your dues. You might say Ricky Nelson was Hollywood's original nepo baby.

The other thing that must have frustrated his contemporaries is that he didn't make an ass of himself when he became a recording artist. A lot of young entertainers who subsequently made the jump from TV to music would go on to do so with crass commercialism as their guide but Nelson took what he was doing seriously from the off. We're still a couple years away from him dropping the boyish 'Ricky' to the more somber 'Rick', a decade away from his move to country music and it wouldn't be until he was in his thirties that he wrote and recorded history's first protest song about celebrity entitlement but even at just barely eighteen he was already out to prove that in music he was the real deal. And he was, at least some of the time.

Perhaps the most interesting aspect of "Poor Little Fool" is that it was written by a young woman who was about the same age as Nelson. Sharon Sheeley had been a teen model who, much like the subject of this blog entry, suddenly decided to try her hand at songwriting. This happened to be the first song she wrote. Humph, these bloody show offs. My first attempt at a song was some drivel about dreaming of becoming a star. People who hit the ground running make me sick.

But back to Sheeley and her first composition. I find it fascinating that a song about a young man who gets lured in by a girl with "carefree, devil eyes" was written by a woman. Did she sneak a little sarcasm in? The roots of it are said to go back to when she dated Don Everly of The Everly Brothers so it was probably written from the female perspective before switching it around but I like to think that she was sneering a little at the gullible dumbass who fell for the wrong girl. Better yet, sneering at the selfish jerk who now plays the victim as soon as his girl got some sense. Nothing in Nelson's reading would suggest an ulterior motive on Sheeley's part but I'm happy to speculate.

Much of Ricky Nelson's very jam packed forty-five years is of interest, from his childhood stardom all the way to his tragic death. Unfortunately, his music didn't always live up to the man himself. He had his moments but "Poor Little Fool" isn't quite one of them. Everything about it is just all right. It's sort of cool that his voice sounds like it belongs to someone at least twice his age but I'm not convinced that this maturity does Sheeley's work justice. He continued to play it near the end of his life by which point he seemed better suited to it. Elvis Presley's backing singers The Jordanaires do a great job rescuing it from sheer dullness so there's that. I don't quite dislike it as much as I feel I ought to but I certainly don't love it either. And, for the record, this has nothing to do with me being jealous of Nelson. Sheeley and her ease with songwriting, on the other hand...

Score: 5

Elvis Presley: "Hard Headed Woman"

July 7, 1958 (3 weeks)

So, about Elvis' decline...

The CHUM chart's first number one had been in the spring of 1957 which was only about a year after the rise of Elvis Presley to superstardom — and I was already convinced that The King was heading downhill. In some ways I wasn't entirely wrong. "All Shook Up", his first Canadian chart topper, smacks of more of the same, "(Let Me Be Your) Teddy Bear" is the first of his big hits you'd be forgiven for forgetting all about and the double A-side "I Beg of You" / "Don't" is just plain coasting. But the good side of Elvis could still assert himself. "Jailhouse Rock" is a certified banger, "Wear My Ring Around Your Neck" is far more enjoyable than its problematic title would suggest and then we come to "Hard Headed Woman" from the film King Creole.

Fred Bronson's The Billboard Book of Number One Hits spends much of the entry on this single discussing the final days of Gladys Presley's life, as well as how much her death in August of 1958 turned her son's life upside down. After initially being refused his request for leave from the army, he was finally given permission to be by her side only for her to pass away just two days later. He was inconsolable. It is said that Elvis collapsed more than once at his mother's funeral. Those close to him would say he was never the same.

With this devastating news, it must have been something of a gut punch that his most recent hit single was an attack on women ruining things for the "soft hearted men" in their lives. Eve failed to listen to Adam and Samson warned Delilah to stay away from him — perhaps a Cleopatra or an Emma of Normandy had also been in line for verses of their own but kept out for fear of hammering the point home. But the figures from history mythology begin to fade away as the lyrics get more vague — and, perhaps, somewhat more personal. Next up is a "king" who was doing "swell" until everything came apart because of an "evil Jezebel". At this point it feels like Elvis didn't regret releasing "Hard Headed Woman" just week's before Gladys' passing since his controlling, over-protective mother would have warned him about those evil harlots.

Even if they secretly pay tribute to his mother (which, needless to say, he didn't write), the good old fifties' misogyny in the lyrics are hard to swallow. Luckily, you can barely make them out with a powerhouse band performance and Elvis at his belting best. The horn section adds an extra blast to the rollicking 12-bar blues. Good fun all around and yet another welcome reminder that while his love songs could often be dull and lifeless, there really is nothing like Elvis doing pure rock 'n' roll. (As big a fan I am of brevity in pop, a minute-and-fifty seconds though is way too brief; it's difficult to take a record completely seriously if it can't even cross the two minute mark)

So, I'm done with trying to work out the "beginning of the end" of Elvis as a top recording artist. Since I treasure the 1969 From Elvis in Memphis album so much — it's superior to many of that year's big blockbuster LP's like Abbey Road, Let It Bleed and Led Zeppelin II, you know — I ought to be well aware that he still had it long after his military discharge. Deeply flawed and with an erratic muse, Elvis Presley was far from perfect but he had plenty left in him at the tender age of twenty-three. I have no doubt there will be some clunkers ahead but I'm now optimistic I'll be encountering some minor masterworks along the way as well.

Score: 7

~~~~~

Can Con

Oscar McLollie & Jeanette Baker: "Hey Girl — Hey Boy"

If longtime American resident Paul Anka can qualify as 'Canadian Content' then surely an American who spent some of his life residing in Chiliwack, BC should count as well. With that out of the way, may I present Oscar McLollie with this groovy shuffle alongside the equally-unknown-to-me-until-quite-recently Jeanette Baker. Amusing and engaging if a little pointless but I prefer to focus on the positive. Apparently "Hey Girl — Hey Boy" was his only hit. If the number sixty-one spot proved to be disappointing, maybe he took solace in the fact that it spent three weeks on the CHUM chart at a more respectable thirty-two. No wonder he would eventually migrate north. Yet another one who is well worth investigating further.

Sheb Wooley: "The Purple People Eater"

June 16, 1958 (3 weeks)

As anyone who's been following this blog will know — and a big cheers for doing so, by the way — I've been giving scores out of ten to every Canadian number one I've reviewed. This is something I took from Tom Ewing's Popular blog in which he writes about British chart toppers. (Tom Breihan also nicked the practice for his Hot 100 number ones page over on Stereogum; he's so into it that he's been giving scores to other songs that just happen to come up) A score of 10 is reserved for the absolute cream of the crop (Ewing has only handed out a total of eighteen tens and he's covered more than fifty years' worth of UK chart action) while a 1 is meant for the irredeemable dregs (twenty-two and counting over on Popular). So far, the two extremes haven't come up...until now!

On both ends of the spectrum, I did consider going with the most extreme scores but careful consideration ruled any possibilities out (until now!). On the positive side, The Bobbettes' "Mr. Lee", Elvis Presley's "Jailhouse Rock" and The Everly Brothers' "All I Have to Do Is Dream" have so far come the closest to a 10. I seriously considered both the Bobbettes and the Everlys but Elvis' 9 came from deciding that it deserved more than the 8 I initially had it pegged for. On the other end, The Chordettes' "Lollipop" is so far the only 2. Again, I did think about going for the absolute lowest score but figured that there had to be worse options out there — and there are.

As I just recently suggested, I had not been looking forward to covering 1958's number ones because of its over-abundance of novelty hits. Yet, "Witch Doctor" proved to be a pleasant surprise. Sure, it got what is ultimately an indifferent score but my expectations had been low. I got to thinking that maybe all three of them will be hidden gems, that those hustlers from the fifties who shoveled out such shit had some creativity deep down. But my first listen to "The Purple People Eater" in over thirty years dispelled any such sense of optimism.

To describe it as dismal only scratches the surface. It's meant to be funny but isn't. (Sheb Wooley was "inspired" to compose it after hearing the old joke, Q: 'what had one eye, flies, has a horn and eats people?'; A: 'A one-eyed, one-horned, flying people eater'. It really is true what they say about comedy not aging well, isn't it?) It's supposed to be cute but isn't. It's trying to be a song for kids to singalong with but it's lacking in childish wonder. ("Lollipop" had been a lousy work but I was able to recollect the enjoyment we had as kids from the chorus and that popping sound but there's no similar fun to be found in "The Purple People Eater". It's possible that Mr. Dressup, a beloved Canadian kids show presented by the late Ernie Coombs, might have once done a routine based around the song but the real joy there would have been in seeing a national treasure prancing about in a ridiculous purple monster costume)

Yet, a steaming pile of shit can turn into dried-out, colourless dog poop you sometimes see in the park: you like it no more than you used to and you can't believe it has managed to stick around as long as it has. Somehow, it has become a Halloween song like "Monster Mash" or "Thriller" even though there's nothing scary about it and the only thing I would associate it with October 31st are those nasty molasses candies or Thrills gum, the crap that you never get round to consuming. It's also become the theme for Bastion, a supervillain I am unaware of from the X-Men '97 cartoon series on Disney+. According to Wikipedia, "The Purple People Eater" was "self-chosen". I did not know that Marvel animated characters are permitted to choose their own theme songs nor was I aware that they had theme songs. All that's stupid enough but for him to have picked this garbage and it's presumably meant to intimidate? I don't think we're dealing with a bad guy along the lines of Hela, Magneto or Thanos here, are we?

A 10 will come along eventually. I have a few earmarked for a full score but the first of them won't be for a little while yet. There is always the chance one will pop up before then but it will have to be a very pleasant surprise since I'm not anticipating any until we get a couple years into the sixties. As for the next 1, I have no idea. I haven't looked into it. Can't say it's something I'm looking forward to.

Score: 1

Bobby Freeman: "Do You Want to Dance"

June 9, 1958 (1 week)

Popular Songs *You* Didn't Know Are Covers!!!

"I Will Always Love You" (Uh, yes, I did know it was a cover, thank you very much...Dolly Parton did it and it wasn't exactly a secret, so there!)

"Blinded by the Light" (I once got shouted down by a group of people who said I was wrong about believing it to have been written by Bruce Springsteen, so, yes, I am well aware of it being a cover)

"Red, Red Wine" (Song on an album comprised entirely of covers by a band who seldom performed original material so I'm going guess that it's also a cover)

"Nothing Compares 2 U" (G, who could have written this 1?)

"Hallelujah" (Am I the only person alive who thinks Leonard Cohen's original is way better than Jeff Buckley's? k.d. lang's is also better)

"No More "I Love You's"" (When the Medusa album came out a great deal was made about Annie Lennox doing a collection of covers so I just assumed it was one)

"The Only Way Is Up" (Actually, it's easy to forget that this one's a cover but then you don't tend to see it on such lists because Americans just got to American, am I right?)

These types of lists I occasionally see YouTube probably aren't meant for people like me. But then again, who are they intended for? Music fanatics know that there are famous songs that were covers by more obscure acts that preceded them while people who don't care about music so much probably aren't bothered about such trivia.

One that they never mention is "Do You Want to Dance" which I sort of knew was a cover all along but I couldn't have told you who wrote and/or first recorded it. I had been most familiar with The Beach Boys' 1965 cover — altered by then to "Do You Wanna Dance" — which, despite an enthusiastic but ultimately weak Dennis Wilson lead vocal, has sufficient booming kettle drums, a fine guitar solo and plenty of drama that it's easy to assume these qualities had always been a part of it. Maybe these people who are convinced Brian Wilson is a genius have been on to something all along. 

Rewind seven years to Bobby Freeman's original and it's a surprisingly skeletal affair. It could be a dry run for what Brian Wilson would eventually do with it. The guitar solo is about the only element that rivals its future cover version. In place of those drums, there's what sounds like the gentle pounding of pen or pencil on a Kleenex box. Making do with what you've got, I get it. When fans of indie and lo-fi music go on about a recording that is "raw" I don't think they have a single like this in mind. (They're most likely thinking of some godawful Daniel Johnston demo from the eighties) But that's exactly what this is.

It's a jarring listen at first knowing what it would become less than ten years later but after a few listens Bobby Freeman's original version of "Do You Want to Dance" reveals merits of its own. While his voice is solid but unspectacular, he probably gives a stronger reading of it than either those with much better vocal chops (Cliff Richard, Bette Midler) or those of more modest talents (the aforementioned Dennis Wilson, The Ramones). It's nowhere near as catchy as The Beach Boys but it isn't without hooks. The nagging problem of there not being a chorus when one is badly needed is an issue though. Repeating the title of the song again and again must have been staring at him right in the face too! (For god's sake, even Cliff and The Shadows managed to figure it out!)

Coming in just after The Everly Brothers' "All I Have to Do Is Dream", this has been the second of what amounts to a two part series on cover versions. I didn't intend for them to be written that way but that's where we are. How about a change of pace next time then? Something distinctive that no one has successfully managed to copy or improve over the years. Something that stands alone. Up next is...oh crap!

Score: 6

The Everly Brothers: "All I Have to Do Is Dream"

May 5, 1958 (5 weeks)

It was during the month long reign at the top for "All I Have to Do Is Dream" that the CHUM chart celebrated its first birthday. Over the course of this first year, twenty different groups or solo artists managed to reach the summit but just two managed to do so more once: Elvis Presley with five number ones (needless to say with several more to come) and Don and Phil Everly with two. Once again, all hail the dominance of The King!

"All I Have to Do Is Dream" has been covered a lot over the years. As Fred Bronson points out, it managed to chart in the fifties by the Everlys, in the sixties as a solo by Richard Chamberlain, the seventies back in duet form by Glen Campbell and Bobbie Gentry and in the eighties once again as a duet by Andy Gibb and Victorial Principal. True, there was a clear downward trend in the chart placements but there's no question that the tune had legs. (The streak would be broken in the nineties because, let's face it, we Generation Xer's are dead inside; that said, Cliff Richard managed to have a Top 20 hit with it in his native UK in 1994) But my first exposure to this classic was in the musical-comedy-drama Rags to Riches in around 1987.

When the show first started there was talk of comparisons to Annie. But instead of one happy-go-lucky orphan girl being taken in by a wealthy old miser, this time five young ladies of varying ages had been adopted by a rich playboy trying to improve his image. Oh the hilarity! My sister was interested in watching it and I went along with her. We were already loyal fans of Our House with the late Shannen Doherty and Chad Allen and I'm pretty sure this new series either came on right before it or just after. Bloody hell, I really would watch anything, wouldn't I?

The songs used in Rags to Riches were from the late fifties and early sixties but they all seemed familiar. Exploiting a Baby Boomer nostalgia that the forthcoming series The Wonder Years and hit motion picture Dirty Dancing would be vastly more successful at, the show's creators weren't going for obscurities of the era. My sister and I both recognized "All I Have to Do Is Dream" but we couldn't have told you who had originally done it. I think we both scoffed at Rose singing it about her unrequited crush — especially in the way she altered the words (a common practice on this show) to fit around the plot: "only trouble is, gee wiz, I can't treat Diane this way" — but the actress, Kimiko Gelman, doesn't do such a bad job of it. To be sure, I was expecting a good deal worse.

But that's the thing: "All I Have to Do Is Dream" covers well. Most versions out there are pretty good and it doesn't seem any manage to mess it up. The Campbell/Gentry rendition is perhaps the finest. R.E.M.'s interpretation, as seen in the 1986 documentary Athens, GA: Inside/Out, is instructive: while the indie quartet's smattering of other covers ("Superman", "Love Is All Around") manage to sound like R.E.M. songs that happen to have been written by other people, Michael Stipe and Mike Mills can't help but sing like Don and Phil Everly. For someone with such a distinctive voice, Stipe has never sounded so much unlike himself.

With all due respect to Glen and Bobbie, Michael and Mike and even Rose from Rags to Riches, none of them can quite match the magic of the Everlys, which perhaps explains why everyone tries to copy them rather than trying something new. And what can possibly be done with "All I Have to Do Is Dream"? If not quite a masterpiece then it's near enough with Tom Ewing describing it as a "big step forward for pop". Quite right. If others had little difficulty replicating the Everlys, then Don and Phil would have a challenge ahead of them in trying to match their biggest hit to date. Credit to them that they managed it since it's doubtful many others would.

Score: 9

~~~~~

Can Con

Here's a name that's new to me: Sheila Guthrie. She was a Toronto native who cut a few singles and a pair of albums over the fifties, sixties and seventies but, alas, she seems to have been largely forgotten with the passage of time. Her prospects must have seemed bright when debut solo "Love Is Universal" took her into the CHUM Top 40. It proved to be just a cup for coffee in the hit parade however. I would like to say a little more but I can't find seem to find any trace of it on YouTube. Some of her future recordings are up so I really ought to investigate. It's worth noting that she chose some good material for her first album Is That All There Is. Fingers crossed her name pops up before long on another old CHUM chart. Rest in power.

David Seville: "Witch Doctor"

April 28, 1959 (1 week)

""Witch Doctor" was the first of three novelty song to go to number one in 1958," Fred Bronson states in The Billboard Book of Number One Hits, "making it the most successful year for this genre". Too true. The Americans would soon cool to the charms of the novelty pop smash though it's something that has carried on over the generations over in Britain. There have even been a handful — Lieutenant Pigeon's "Mouldy Old Dough", Doop's eponymous 1994 hit celebrating the charleston...damn, my brain can't conjure up a third example — that are actually rather good. Yet a trilogy of "comedy" singles that topped the charts Stateside proved to be more than enough — and given the overall quality, is it any wonder?

Canada's CHUM chart could differ from what was soon to become known as the Hot 100 south of the border. Close to half of the entries in this space have been Canadian number ones that came up short in the US. Yet, our country's obsession with trying to prove that we're not exactly the same as our neighbours to the south didn't apply when it came to the novelty pop invasion of '58. The one time we just had to follow suit...

In a vacuum, "Witch Doctor" is fairly tolerable and it's clearly the best of a poor crop. The fact that the high pitch is used sparingly certainly helps. That said, it couldn't be anything but a novelty song. Those horns that guide it along could be straight out of a silly old pratfall video. Creator Ross Bagdasarian (the real name for singer David Seville who would, confusingly, then become a cartoon character when he began managing an unruly trio of rodents) also has an ideal voice for children's music, which begs the question: did he always sound like a pop star for kids or does it just seem like it because everyone who has come along since sounds just like him? (See? It isn't just The Velvet bloody Underground who are influential!)

Bronson says that its infamous refrain of "Oo-ee, oo-ah-ah. ting-tang, walla walla bing-bang" is the sort of thing you'll wind up bursting into when doing a bit of dusting round the house but I respectful disagree. Rather, I'd say it's what you end up singing out loud while in a grocery store or in IKEA as it's playing over the PA — until you catch yourself, possibly when an attractive girl suddenly laughs at you singing along with what amounts to the Chipmunks. It would be fine if the scourge of "Witch Doctor's" earworm only affected us in the privacy of our own homes but it's real purpose is to humiliate us in public.

To its credit, "Witch Doctor" doesn't manage to get on the listener's nerves until pretty close to its conclusion. (Plenty of a other big novelty hits are not able to come close to the two minute mark before the desire to hurl a brick at whatever or whomever is playing it becomes overwhelming, as, indeed, we'll see shortly) Not much of a recommendation but sometimes not hating something is an achievement of sorts. Sorry to be hammering the point home but it could've been worse so well done David Seville and the weirdly squeaky-voiced shaman he went to see: you didn't suck. Not this time at any rate.

Score: 5

Elvis Presley: "Wear My Ring Around Your Neck"

April 21, 1958 (1 week)

Khao San Rd is in a part of Bangkok that I have long been fond of. I lived a ten minute walk from the famous backpacker ghetto and as a result it ended up being my go-to area when I didn't have anything else to do, which, given that I was largely friendless during the six months I lived in the Thai capital, was quite often. I'd go on weekends in the middle of the day when there weren't as many people around and I'd browse the dusty old bookshops. Sometimes I'd be there in the evening when it was teaming with tourists of all kinds and plenty vendors trying to hawks essentials like disco balls and model helicopters made from beer and pop cans.

There is now what amounts to an island of street food vendors who park down the middle of the strip but back in the early two thousands it was much more open for the hundreds of people in the area. It was a chance to see all kinds of travellers, from crunchy granola backpackers to the sleaziest sex tourists and everything in between. (I was once gawked at by seemingly everyone on Khao San the night I went to meet a friend for dinner not long after being released from the hospital after a serious accident. You don't see many white guys who are just shy of two meters with bandages on their heads and casts on their arms)  It was during one of my sojourns that I noticed a young couple: he was a fair haired westerner who was about my height and wore glasses, while she was a petite Thai girl. Nothing special there but for one thing: he had his hand around her neck.

It is this anecdote which comes to mind whenever I listen to Elvis Presley's fifth Canadian number one single "Wear My Ring Around Your Neck". I'm prepared to believe that both incident and song were not intended to have any ill feeling but that's still not the impression I get. The gentleman on Khao San looked to be holding his girlfriend's neck gently but the act still seemed violent. Same goes for a song about keeping an engagement ring around a girl's neck rather than on the left hand where it belongs. If we're being charitable, maybe it could be about having the ring on a necklace but is pulling a Frodo much of a statement?

"Wear My Ring Around Your Neck" broke a string of ten straight number ones in the US. It also missed the top spot in Britain, ensuring that it wouldn't be one of the better remembered Elvis numbers of the era. It didn't help that the overall quality of his work had been trending down even though it was a recovery of sorts from the ordinariness of the double A-side "I Beg of You" / "Don't". The band sound in good form with D.J. Fontana's drumming a particular high spot. Despite the brisk pace, it still doesn't quite measure up to the standards of even a year earlier. Still, a tip of the hat for Elvis managing to hold off the quality bottoming out — at least for now anyway.

Elvis seemed to have a knack for making problematic material just a little less uncomfortable. His masterpiece L.P., From Elvis in Memphis, contains a deep cut called "Power of My Love", an aggressive bar band blues with references to having to "punch it", "pound it" and "drag it all around". It gets especially tense in the chorus with his warning that "every minute, every hour, you'll be shaken by the strength and mighty power of my love". Not nice imagery but I'm not quite sure he's advocating for violence against women so I'll let it slide. (A couple of points in its favour: (a) it's followed on the album by the lovely "Gentle on My Mind" which offers some redemption and (b) it's an absolute banger; a good song can cover up many sins) Same goes in this instance: the wording isn't great, it's controlling not unlike putting a leash on a dog but I might give Elvis the benefit of the doubt because he's an insecure guy who's going to be away for some time.

Sgt Elvis Presley was by now stationed in Fort Hood (now Fort Cavazos), Texas where he put on a brave face about life as a soldier but longed for Memphis and feared for his career. If his previous hit could be interpreted as a message from his fans to him, this one could be seen as reciprocal: keep the faith, stay committed to The King, don't forget about him and he'll be back before you know it. I'd keep that ring on my finger or put away someplace special but you do you.

Score: 6

Connie Francis: "Who's Sorry Now?"

April 7, 1958 (2 weeks)

"Any chance for me, lads?"

Jimmy Rabbitte's neighbour only appears for a snippet to deliver a lighthearted audition for a band that would soon become known as The Commitments. She's not half-bad, especially compared to most of the singers and/or musicians who turned up for a place in the "saviours of soul" and the "hardest working band in the world". Yet the song she chose must have seemed ancient to Jimmy and his recruits Derek Scully, Outspan Foster and Dean Fey. Connie Francis' definitive rendition of "Who's Sorry Now?" may have come from the era of Elvis Presley and Buddy Holly but it might as well have predated them by a century for all these young Dubliners knew and/or cared.

It matters not that "Who's Sorry Now?" was recorded not long before most of what would appear in the acclaimed film The Commitments as well as its two best-selling soundtrack albums. Perhaps that's because it was an oldie even then. Published way back in 1923 (which means it could have been written at least a year or two prior to then), it had floated around as a foxtrot standard recorded by several artists and appearing in the Marx Brothers' 1946 film A Night in Casablanca. Not exactly a tune that was instantly familiar to the masses but not an obscurity either.

(While we're on the subject of its age, "Who's Sorry Now?" topped the Canadian and British charts in 1958, while The Commitments came out in 1991 which means that hits like "Losing My Religion", "Justified and Ancient" and "Set Adrift on a Memory Bliss" are as old in 2024 as Connie Francis' signature song was back then. Oh, what the passage of time does, eh readers? Also, it's about time we got a Commitments streaming series. In fact, I'm a little surprised it hasn't happened already)

It was perhaps with this in mind that George Francis cajoled his talented but unsuccessful daughter Connie to record it in a last ditch attempt to save her failing singing career. She wasn't keen but eventually relented. Giving the arrangement a contemporary beat proved to be a wise decision. Not only was it a huge hit around the world but Francis managed to take a song that was already a third of a century old and make it her own. Significantly, not a whole lot of cover versions have come along since. It's as if everyone immediately recognized there's no topping this one.

Like many 45's from the era, "Who's Sorry Now?" isn't long — it can't be anything but brief since the lyrics are so concise — but it manages to pack a great deal into its two minutes and twenty seconds. Tom Ewing admits to feeling like the point had been made ninety seconds in until it dawned on him that it's only near the song's end that she "coldly rubs her ex's misery in his face". For it to begin with Francis being much more regretful is a helpful reminder of how artists and producers once used economy to their advantage; far more happens here than in most modern songs that are at least double its length.

Giving it a rock 'n' roll beat and some chugging guitar parts, the arrangement is indeed up-to-date but there's still enough of a swing holding it all together to ensure it would have appealed to older listeners as well. Yet, the overall effect looks much more towards the future than it spends wallowing in the past — which is appropriate for a song about moving on from a poisonous relationship. Francis may sound more buttoned down early on but her stand out performance near the end even anticipates sixties' women's lib. I don't know if I hear stripper music as Ewing does in this part but certainly there's a commendable bravado as the climax approaches.

Jimmy Rabbitte's mandate in forming The Commitments was to bring soul to what he called "the blacks of Europe". (If such a statement seems hard to swallow, it pales in comparison to Roddy Doyle's novel from 1987 with its use of multiple racial slurs and the claim by veteran trumpet player Joey "The Lips" Fagan that jazz great Charlie Parker "didn't deserve his black skin") And while the likes of "Dark End of the Street", "I Never Loved a Man (the Way I Love You)" and "Try a Little Tenderness" clearly struck a nerve with the Northside Dublin crowds, they wouldn't have lost a beat had they added "Who's Sorry Now?" to their repertoire. They wouldn't have bettered Connie Francis but they hadn't been able to match Aretha Franklin and Otis Redding either so there you go.

Score: 8  

The Chordettes: "Lollipop"

March 31, 1958 (1 week)

I have friends who seem to think I have an encyclopedic knowledge of music. I imagine this is because they know a lot less than I do — either that or I've been faking just how much I know. But I mix things up and get stuff wrong a lot. For example, I was well into my twenties when I discovered that the hit single "Copacabana" wasn't done by The Kinks. (It was the opening line of "her name was Lola" that caused the confusion; people would talk about the song "Lola" assuming I was already familiar with it which I clearly wasn't) 

It was perhaps with this howler in mind that I took my Korean wife confusing The Beatles' "Across the Universe" for Glenn Medeiros' notorious eighties' hit in good humour instead of being appalled. (Both songs having choruses beginning with "nothing's gonna change..." is, if anything, more understandable than mixing up The Kinks and Barry Manilow; before you say anything, yes I have composed a mash-up entitled "Nothing's Gonna Change My Universe", which I sung to her on her birthday a few years ago; if anyone happens to be interested in recording it, please let me know and I'll send you the lyrics) I could very well be wrong but I suspect that John Lennon would have found this mistake to be amusing too.

A good deal less embarrassing was that I always used to get the two well known pop songs with the word 'lollipop' in the title mixed up: the present single by The Chordettes — and, in Britain, The Mudlarks — and "My Boy Lollipop" by Millie Small. (Again, there's a potential mash-up if it hasn't already been done) Naturally, this was down to the hard candy on a stick rather than the quality of the two records, which couldn't have differed more in that respect. "My Boy Lollipop" is frequently cited as the first major international pop hit to emerge out of Jamaica but it's a great song even if its historic significance is ignored. Millie Small's story is a sad one but hopefully her family is proud of what she accomplished. Even if she never did anything beyond her signature hit, she would have a tremendous legacy.

Unfortunately, I will not have the chance to write about "My Boy Lollipop" in the future. While it would top the CHUM charts, it only managed to make runner up spot on the RPM listings, which was by then had become the official national pop survey of record. Instead, I am reduced to padding out this meager entry on a pop song I really can't stand by praising one that I love. (For the record, I would have scored "My Boy Lollipop" an 8) But let's finish up by crapping on the worst number one to date (though I don't imagine it will hold the crown for very long; there are a few chart toppers coming up that I am not looking forward to having to listen to but which I am looking forward to crapping all over)

As a boy "Lollipop" seemed like a lot of fun. I paid no attention to its verses and was simply happy to repeat the chorus as well as make that distinctive popping sound by hooking my thumb into the side of my mouth and abruptly pulling it out. While that side of things still appeals, it's just a shame everything else going on here is so pitiful. Their harmonies are flat but that's okay because it's bursting with humour — or so we are meant to believe. The whole thing just makes my skin crawl and I can't get through its two minutes and ten seconds without the overwhelming urge to turn it off. Was "Mr. Sandman" always this rotten too? I would investigate but I think I've put myself through more than enough, thank you very much.

Score: 2

~~~~~

Can Con

So, "Lollipop" is dreadful but at least there's an engaging slice of rockabilly from Sudbury, ON native Terry Roberts. I'd never heard of him either but he and backing band The Deans make me wonder why they've been such an obscurity despite hitting the CHUM Top 10 with "Oh Lonesome Me". He sounds rather too American for my tastes ("...I thought of everything from A to zee"? I know it rhymes but come on!) but his voice is strong and it's easy to imagine the choppy C&W chords morphing into some killer bar band rock. Maybe that's what everyone in Bermuda and much of the Caribbean saw in him in the seventies. Their gain was our loss.

The Champs: "Tequila"

March 24, 1958 (1 week)

It had been just over a month since The Silhouettes went to number one in Canada with a single that had initially been earmarked as a B-side and now in March of 1958 it was happening again. It's stunning to think that the quintet that made up The Champs as well producer Joe Johnson of Challenge Records sized up the two instrumentals cut on December 23, 1957 and agreed to give the prominent spot to the undistinguished "Train to Nowhere" over "Tequila", a piece of music that is so catchy and iconic that an awful lot of people could still hum its tune.

"Tequila" is the fourth Canadian chart topper to either be an instrumental or be be close enough. I've heard people online say that vocals of any kind should not be allowed for a song to qualify but I beg to differ. If lyrics and a singer aren't there to anchor a record then I think that's good enough to be an instrumental. A great deal of the jazz I listen to is vocal-free but you still might catch Thelonious Monk humming along in the background on some of his extraordinary recordings and Keith Jarrett's massively popular (though slightly overrated) The Köln Concert is littered with the pianist moaning and screeching as he's playing. My favourite example of a jazz musician "singing" along with themselves though is Duke Ellington on the insanely earworm-heavy "Limbo Jazz" from the terrific album Duke Ellington Meets Coleman Hawkins, in which you can hear the legendary bandleader enjoying himself so much that he just has to scat along with it. Fantastic.

So, all of these pieces of music are instrumentals in my book, as indeed "Tequila" is since it's only "lyric" is its title being shouted out three or four times. What was it about the fifties that made it such a friendly era for groups that didn't bother having a singer? It's common for fans of pop and rock to long for a return to the sixties but in this respect I'm all for going back a decade earlier than that. I do love me some Booker T. & The MG's but they had become pretty much a one off by the time "Green Onions" gave them a Top 10 hit. The Beatles released only one instrumental during their day and with all due respect to "Flying" it doesn't add a whole lot to their legacy. It's likely the only reason The Beach Boys put out as many vocal-less tunes as they did — "Summer Means New Love", "Let's Go Away for a While", "Pet Sounds", "The Nearest Faraway Place" — was because they couldn't get a half-decent lyrics out of Mike Love or Tony Asher to fit around them.

To be an instrumental act by choice is a whole other matter. The results could vary but when these sorts of groups were at their best, they could really deliver. It's uncertain if The Champs were up to the task, however. The December '58 session which resulted in both "Tequila" and "Train to Nowhere" actually included two more recordings. One of them is "Night Train" which was even more inconsequential than their spurned A-side while the other, "All Night Rock" has never been heard from since. It was only when all three of these masterpieces by leader Dave Burgess were out of the way that fellow Champ Chuck Rio had the chance to fool around in the studio with his jam piece built around some memorable sax playing that is best described as "dirty".

"Tequila" is one of those songs that feels like it's always been around. Being so familiar to me, it's not the sort of thing I'd normally sit down and listen to. I approached it this week wondering if I'd missed anything by not having ever listened closely until now. A sweet guitar lick perhaps. Or a subtle drum solo. Maybe even something cool in the production I'd never noticed before. Was there anything I missed? Nope, nothing. For sure Chuck Rio's sax is outstanding as it always has been but there isn't a great deal to it otherwise. It sounds exactly how I remember it sounding even when I was a little boy. How we hear some music changes as we get older but not in the case of "Tequila". Now that's what I call being timeless.

Score: 7

Chuck Berry: "Sweet Little Sixteen"

March 10, 1958 (2 weeks)

Look up Chuck Berry in Fred Bronson's The Billboard Book of Number One Hits or on either Tom Ewing's Popular site or Tom Briehan's Number Ones over on Stereogum and you'll discover that the legendary rock 'n' roll pioneer only had one chart topper in the US and UK. Worse still, it wasn't' with "Rock and Roll Music" or "Johnny B. Goode" or "Memphis, Tennessee" or "Nadine" or any of the numerous great songs in his discography from the fifties. No, his lone number one hit on pop's two major charts didn't occur until the end of 1972 and it was with the abomination that is "My Ding-a-Ling". Luckily, Canadians made up for this injustice somewhat by taking "Sweet Little Sixteen" to the top in the early part of 1958 — even if they ended up spoiling it by also having bloody "Ding-a-Ling" go to number one. Failing to land a number one at his peak in either the US or Britain would be a grievous injustice but for three matters: (1) it's only the bloody pop charts, (2) Berry was by most accounts a pretty vile human being and (3) much of what he recorded in his prime isn't all that brilliant.

For all of Chuck Berry's many talents — songwriting, guitar playing, showmanship — his biggest weakness as a recording artist was his poor voice. While there are rock stars who have lacked conventional vocal prowess — Bob Dylan, Leonard Cohen, Tom Waits, Billy Bragg...bloody hell, are they all men? — the bulk of them were able to add a degree of character to their otherwise workmanlike singing. This is why many people have favourite vocalists who aren't technically very good and why most people would opt for Madonna over Annie Lennox in spite the chasm that separates their voices. But this doesn't apply to Chuck Berry who couldn't sing well and lacked vocal personality, even though this seldom gets mentioned by critics and music nerds. But while few knock his crummy voice, you never hear of anyone praise him for his singing either.

Perhaps this is why The Beatles did so well with their Chuck Berry covers. Only two ended up on albums — "Roll Over Beethoven" on With The Beatles and "Rock and Roll Music" on Beatles for Sale — but the Fab Four thought highly enough of his work to do several more on their BBC sessions, several of which popped up on their Live at the BBC and On Air: Live at the BBC Vol. 2 collections. They were accomplished enough musically to recreate Berry's trademark guitar flourishes and in John Lennon, Paul McCartney and even George Harrison they had the vocal chops to sing his nibs under the table. (Call me a hater but I think I'd even take Ringo over him) Outstripping the source material is an overlooked Beatles strength from their early period and they never did it better then when handling Chuck Berry's works.

Recorded for the radio show Pop Go The Beatles in the summer of 1963, Lennon attacks the lyrics as he tended to do with early rock 'n' roll hits that he loved. Equally true to form is Berry sounding nonchalant on his original. This is understandable. As someone who was already a veteran performer in his late-twenties when rock 'n' roll broke, he couldn't possibly sound as excited as up and coming stars who were ten years his junior or, indeed, all those teenagers listening to him on transistor radios and jukeboxes. And, just to belabour the point above, his limited range couldn't have pulled off a full-throated take anyway.

Berry's arrest at the end of 1959 for transporting a teenage girl across state lines ought to have ensured that "Sweet Little Sixteen" would become problematic though this didn't prevent The Beatles from performing it nor Brian Wilson from retooling it into "Surfin' USA", The Beach Boys' first Top 10 hit. Having it pose as a list song of tour destinations all over America may have been a good way to obscure that it's otherwise about young groupies who get dolled up the night before only to have to be back in school the next day. Sure was the state of the creepy rock star-fan dynamic that he could report on highly inappropriate (not to mention illegal) behaviour but all everyone at the time heard was a celebration of the teenage dream.

Chuck Berry was an influential figure in rock 'n' roll's formative period. Better yet, he wrote some stellar pop songs that others, particularly The Beatles, were able to get more out of than he ever could. Budding guitarists in the fifties like George Harrison and Carl Wilson would study his playing. When he was in the mood and enticed with a sufficient amount of cash, he could no doubt put on an incredible show. All that really matters in the end though is how the influence trickled back. The only reason I have to appreciate Chuck Berry is down to what The Beatles ended up doing for him which means a great deal more than what he did for them.

Score: 4

The Chantels: "Maybe"

February 24, 1958 (2 weeks)

So apparently the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame has a singles category. (This was news to me until just a few days ago) Albums haven't been given a similar treatment which is a little surprising considering how much the LP has overshadowed the 45, not simply in terms of sales but also in importance. Check out the vast majority of music YouTube channels for evidence. How many of them list favourite singles of, say, 1964 or 1987? Yet, album videos are all over the place. As someone who has a fondness for both of these formats, I welcome the spotlight being put on singles for once.

On the other hand, I don't know quite what to make of the R&RHOF having a singles "wing". My initial reaction was that it was far too late. I mean, they already inducted Buffalo Springfield who would have to be the epitome of a band that made one famous single and really nothing else that the average member of the public would know. (And I say this as a person who thinks highly of their second album Buffalo Springfield Again) Derek & The Dominoes as well. A singles category should be for them as much as it is for Steppenwolf, Procol Harum or The Kingsmen, groups who weren't quite worthy of a full on induction and who had to make due with "Born to Be Wild", "A Whiter Shade of Pale" and "Louie Louie" respectively all getting the nod instead. Same goes for The Chantels and their number one hit in Canada "Maybe".

The biggest issue I have with it though is that all they seem to care about is "importance". Perhaps that's the main concern of the Hall's trustees, to acknowledge those who've influenced others. This goes some way to explaining why The Cure and Depeche Mode have both been inducted and why Joy Division/New Order and The Smiths are brought up for possible induction and why Pet Shop Boys are rarely if ever mentioned. Having the seal of approval of Trent Reznor and Billy Corgan can come in handy. (This is why I suspect that Gary Numan stands a better chance of being inducted than the Pet Shops) But at least with groups and artists it's not entirely down to who they influenced

I have no doubt that The Chantels' "Maybe" is an important single. The girl groups of the late-fifties and into the sixties owe a debt to this milestone record. By extension, The Beatles would not have been the same without it. Neither would The Beach Boys. It is part of the foundations of pop music. If an institution like the Rock Hall wishes to honour the contribution The Chantels made with their one major hit then I'm all for it. I'm not sure exactly why they couldn't simply induct them as a group but an honour is an honour.

But is "Maybe" any good? Well, sure. It's perfectly good. The Chantels do some wonderful singing with just the right amount of drama from lead singer Arlene Smith. It's very well written too. Trying to come up with bullet points to knock it is tricky because there aren't flaws as such. But its very importance kind of undermines it. Better songs performed by more capable groups would soon come along and supplant it. 

The major knock I have against "Maybe" that it isn't The Bobbettes' "Mr. Lee". To have expected it to match the quality of this CHUM chart topper from late 1957 is a tough ask but I'm not hung up on its importance either. I want to feel engaged by pop records and I want to feel as though there's a reason for me to come back for more. "Mr. Lee" is the sort of song you can never quite rid yourself of. If I'm accompanying my wife round a shopping centre here in Korea or back in Canada or in Thailand or Guam on our travels, I'm likely to tune out "Maybe" if it ever happens to be piped in; whereas 'Mr. Lee" would have me nodding along and smiling to myself as I'm reminded of just how fantastic it is. No, it may not have convinced people to form a band with their school chums nor did it trigger something in aspiring singers and musicians but it did bring out something in at least one listener out there (ie this one): it reminds me of why pop music at its best is the greatest thing in the world.

But, sure, go with the important one.

Score: 6

The Silhouettes: "Get a Job"

February 10, 1958 (1 week)

XTC's "Earn Enough for Us"; The Beach Boys' "Looking at Tomorrow (A Welfare Song)"; The Clash's "Career Opportunities"; Talking Heads' "Found a Job"; The Style Council's "Homebreakers"; Wham!'s "Wham Rap! (Enjoy What You Do)"; The Valentine Brothers' "Money's Too Tight (to Mention)"; Buck Owens' "Waitin' in Your Welfare Line"; Hue & Cry's "Labour of Love"; Wet Wet Wet's "Wishing I Was Lucky". Yes, you could say that my list of great songs about unemployment and under-employment is considerably different from a simple Google search.

I really ought to know better by now. Music related Google searches always end up like this. Ultra hip bands I cared little for when I was younger and who I'm even less interested in now. Drive-By Truckers always come up on these sorts of lists for some reason. Sufjan Stevens is another one. Am I so out of touch? No, it's the search engines who are wrong.

I don't expect to see songs like the ones I listed above but I don't think it's too much to expect something from before 2005. (Scratch that: J.J. Cale's "Unemployment" is included) But such is the state of my music tastes. I have a soft spot for UK sophisti-pop from the eighties, a sub-genre that hasn't yet enjoyed a reappraisal similar to its American cousin yacht rock. The cheery Bakersfield country of Buck Owens is largely ignored in favour of phony baloney C&W outlaws. Songs by The Beach Boys written by Al Jardine do not have much in the way of cred but I'd argue that he was the group's finest songwriter who didn't have the surname 'Wilson'. And then there's XTC who only fans of XTC ever bring up. (It is only with The Clash and Talking Heads that I have cool kid bona fides to show off)

Barring ignorance is there any excuse for leaving off "Get a Job" by The Silhouettes? Not so much ignorance of the song itself since it appeared in Trading Places and Good Morning, Vietnam and Stand by Me and, crucially, has those memorable "sha-na-na-na, sha-na-na-na" refrains. If you don't think you know it, give it a listen and get back to me. A problem could be that its message gets lost among The Silhouettes and their vocal dynamism. Bill Horton's lead vocals can end up getting drowned out by his bandmates and their apparent lack of desire to lay out at any point. This would be a problem but for the fact it wouldn't be the same without the relentless backing vocals.

I prefer several of the songs listed above and I have no doubt that the Google search results point to numbers with lyrics that give much more thoughtful observations on the subject of joblessness than "Get a Job". Yet, it may well be the truest account of unemployment ever put to tape. The narrative's most appealing aspect is the fact that neither side comes out of it looking well. The girl in this account never stops nagging her guy to land this job she wants so badly for him while he is clearly putting in a minimal effort at best. Is he lying about trying to land a gig somewhere? No doubt but her insistence on poking the bear isn't helping.

In one of those scenarios that seemed to happen on a regular basis back in those days, the plaintive barbershop R&B track "I Am Lonely" was at first meant to be the A-side of The Silhouettes' latest release until disc jockeys discovered that they and their audiences much preferred the charming and comical number on the flip side. Quite right too. For while "I Am Lonely" is very good for what it is, there's nothing about it that makes it stand out the way its 7" companion does.

With all that said, I find myself admiring "Get a Job" but not quite loving it. (I can't even imagine mustering the enthusiasm to play it again once this blog post is up, if I'm being honest) The humour is a welcome addition but perhaps it keeps the listener at something of a distance. The subject of being out of work is one that a lot of people can identify with and it may cause us to crack jokes at our own expense as a coping mechanism but it isn't as funny thinking back on times when job opportunities weren't there. And it's worse when we try to think of what we could be doing if it were up to us. I put lots of work into this blog yet I'm not expecting to ever make anything from it. If only we could all just work on whatever made us happy.

Score: 7

Elvis Presley: "I Beg of You" / "Don't"

February 3, 1958 (2 weeks)

As a little boy growing up in hockey-mad Canada in the early eighties, there was this team called the New York Islanders who were tantamount to gods in my mind. I wasn't yet interested in watching the sport on TV but it didn't matter since I had the sticker books and trading cards. Just as my chief association with Star Wars was with the Kenner action figures instead of the movies, hockey seemed much more relevant when opening up a fresh pack of O-Pee-Chee stickers from the local convenience store than it did on TV or in an arena. I liked getting Calgary Flames' cards and stickers and didn't wish to get any featuring players on the hated Edmonton Oilers but it was members of the Islanders like Mike Bossy, Bryan Trottier and Bob Nystrom who I really wanted to add to my sticker books and/or the hockey card collection I kept in a shoebox.

It's surprising, then, to discover that their record wasn't dominant year after year. In 1980, they won just thirty-nine games in the regular season but this evidently left enough left in the tank for them to win their first Stanley Cup. They struggled again in '83 with just forty-two regular season wins only to promptly win their fourth Cup on the bounce. Even when they weren't that great they still managed to win when it mattered. After what proved to be their last Cup they still managed to return to the finals the following year when they were finally dethroned by (shudder) Edmonton.

The sports dynasty is not unlike a pop music imperial period. Everything goes right, every decision made is the correct one and success seems to come even when you're underperforming. Just as the Islanders lost their fair share of games en route to four straight Stanley Cups, Elvis Presley had his less-than inspired moments during his lengthy stay at the top of the charts. If they can't all be winners then they may still wind up getting to number one in the charts anyway — and be winners all the same!

The point of an act having an imperial period is that they can fumble creatively and still not pay the price. Pet Shop Boys, whose singer Neil Tennant is credited with coining the term, put out the single "Heart" in the spring of 1988. While a lot of PSB fans love it, it really isn't one of their top tier efforts. Blondie's cover of "The Tide Is High" is catchy but unremarkable when held up against the likes of "Heart of Glass" and "Atomic". I've heard people make the case that "Super Trouper" is ABBA's misstep smash but surely the very ordinary "The Name of the Game" is the one most could give or take. When Madonna put out her first greatest hits, The Immaculate Collection, she left off at least two major hits so she could include a pair of new tracks instead — and, honestly, did anyone care that both "True Blue" and "Who's That Girl?" missed the cut? The Beatles' "Hello Goodbye", Elton John's "Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds", all those endless singles from Michael Jackson's Thriller and Bad and even bloody Dangerous: an imperial period artist can keep shoveling out the shit and fans will keep lapping it up.

No one did this better than Elvis. If 1957 had seen a slight decline in the quality of his recorded work — largely due to "(Let Me Be Your) Teddy Bear" — '58 would be where he really started to go downhill. A packed schedule of recording sessions, tours, film commitments and promotional work had already left The King with little in the way of leisure time to enjoy at his newly purchased Graceland home but now he was in an even bigger rush with his induction into the army on the horizon. One of his priorities had been to really nail his performance in the upcoming motion picture King Creole but I'm not so sure his music was being treated with similar care. While his film career could be put on hold while he was being stationed in Germany, the recorded product had to keep on coming.

Isolated from other releases before and after it, "I Beg of You" / "Don't" feels like a dry run for Elvis' eventual return to life as a civilian star two years later. The latter anticipates the drippiness of "It's Now or Never" and "Are You Lonesome Tonight?" while the former even more worryingly looks ahead to the many bloodless supposed rockers that would really start to set him back as the British Invasion made him appear increasingly irrelevant. "(Let Me Be Your) Teddy Bear" had been a creative hiccup because the composition was substandard; now it was as if everyone involved had followed suit. And The King had become a licence to print money by this point so why bother doing anything more than phoning it in? Again, that's the benefit of being in the midst of an imperial period.

In the CHUM singles chart for January 13, 1958, Elvis' "I Beg of You" is listed at being a new entry at number nine. Meanwhile "Don't" debuted at the much more modest position of thirty-one. A week later the two sides were amalgamated into a single chart entry, this time placing at number 6. At this point the single was listed with "I Beg of You" first but the two switched positions on February 3 when it reached the top the chart. Though "Don't" was considered to be the A-side in the US, its 45" companion seemed to be more popular in Canada so I have it listed first. (It's also slightly less dreary than its flip side) It should be stated though that they do belong together, if only as a way for fans to send a message to their hero: "Oh Elvis, please Don't go into the army, I Beg of You!"

Score: 4

Billy Vaughn: "Sail Along Silvery Moon"

January 13, 1958 (3 weeks)

Imagine a recording artist of today deciding to do a cover version of a single from twenty years ago. They might choose "Toxic" by Britney Spears or "Boulevard of Broken Dreams" by Green Day or...damn, what the hell came out in 2004? I'm pretty sure "Everything Changes" "Everybody's Changing" by Keane came out then (or close to it at any rate). It feels like Arcade Fire were becoming a thing and also The Killers, a pair of groups that never did much for me. And there was a Wilco album that I was excited about which I only listened to the once. But pick anything from this very unremarkable year in music and decide to do something radical with it.

The obvious thing is to replace the glossy Max Martin production for some "real" instruments like a guitar, bass and drums — in fact, there's nothing remotely "radical" about this approach; indeed, I have no doubt there are several versions of "Toxic" that have been recorded this way. The other thing you could do is synth up something like "Everybody's Changing" which the original isn't a million miles from to begin with. Or you could do "Boulevard of Broken Dreams" in the style of Norah Jones. Or The Killers' "Mr. Brightside" as performed by Johnny Cash. Just take any song from '04 and give it a stylistic remodel. Simple.

What you most likely wouldn't think to do if you had any chance of sniffing the charts and/or gaining some measure of critical acclaim is to have it done it as an instrumental. Yet, this is what the multi-instrumentalist and bandleader Billy Vaughn did on several occasions throughout the fifties and into the sixties as a regular on both the American and Canadian hit parades. It should be said that the quality of his work varies. "Love's Melody" was a big hit for him back in 1954 but he lays the syrup on thick. His recording of the Western standard "Shifting, Whispering Sands" is stronger but the narration and chorus (yes, another one of those!) lets it down a tad. His rendition of recent Canadian chart topper "Raunchy" — which also happened to be the B-side of the present single — is punchier than Bill Justis' but he and his orchestra don't quite deliver the powerhouse jazzy rockabilly treatment it deserves.

But he certainly got it right when it came to "Sail Along Silvery Moon" and he managed to do so by making chicken salad out of the chicken shit that was Bing Crosby's 1937 original. To be fair, the Old Groaner did give his typically beautiful restrained vocal performance but there's seemingly nothing to the tune which just nonchalantly glides about on the back of a Hawaiian ukulele and little else. For Billy Vaughn to sense a stellar composition lurking about in there somewhere is a credit to his ear.

Not unlike "So Rare" and "Raunchy", one can imagine a full-blown jazz version of "Sail Along Silvery Moon". It's easy to picture tenor saxophonist Sonny Rollins doing an inspired blowing session over it and I would swoon over what the Modern Jazz Quartet might have done with it. That said, this much more compromised effort is probably the best of both worlds. The rock 'n' roll influence on the song's beat gives it a steady groove. Too much improvisation might have also wrecked the relaxed atmosphere which Vaughn managed to preserve from the Crosby original. Perhaps he and his orchestra had some fun by stretching it out in their concerts but as a 45 release it's perfectly good the way it is.

With jazz waning commercially and this newfangled rock 'n' roll turning off anyone over the age of twenty-one, easy listening music was there to appeal to increasingly conservative men and women who really weren't all that old but whose tastes must have seemed ancient. This could result in some dreadful stuff and a good deal of it was also horribly boring. Yet, in the right hands there was a place for creativity to peak through by borrowing from styles of music that they normally steered clear of. Who'd have thought that so much could be done with a forgotten Bing Crosby number by adding on jazz and rock? It's as if they had unwittingly created jazz fusion at a time when Miles Davis was still trying to be as classy as possible. There's a pop music what if you never hear about.

Score: 8

~~~~~

Can Con

The Diamonds return with "The Stroll" which would end up being their second biggest hit after "Little Darlin'". While hitting number three in Canada and four in the US seems a little higher than it might have deserved, it's a good deal better than their earlier work. Nudged along by a honkin' tenor and/or baritone sax, the Toronto foursome go all moody and sensual. The same cannot be said for Paul Anka's "You Are My Destiny" which only makes me wish his nibs could have made a return to form in the style of "Diana", which you may recall I didn't think much of when I reviewed it a few weeks ago. Well done Canadian public for not overdoing it on Ottawa's favourite son. I'm not looking forward to having to deal with him again but at least it won't be for a while.