The Four Seasons: "Sherry"

September 3, 1962 (5 weeks)

1962 saw the rise of an all-time great American band, one that would go on to become something of an institution. They were a vocal group with roots in doo-wop. Their unique harmonies weren't simply hugely successful but also deeply influential. They were so good that they even managed to withstand the rise of The Beatles — for at little while anyway.

I am of course talking about The Beach Boys but I could just as easily be describing The Four Seasons. I've recently been rereading Craig Brown's wonderful book One, Two, Three, Four: The Beatles in Time (with the less imaginative title of 150 Glimpses of The Beatles for its North American release) which mentions how the first time Brian Wilson heard the Fab Four he was gobsmacked by how amazing there were before becoming despondent that his band was already in trouble. Brown then goes on to state that "for the past six months the Beach Boys had been the most popular group in America".

This is by no means a major criticism but I call bullshit on Brown's claim. While it was probably pretty close between the two, I'm going to state that The Four Seasons were the bigger group. Not only that, I'm not so sure The Beach Boys ever completely overtook them either. It's only from the modern point-of-view that the the Wilsons, their dumbass, creepy cousin and chum Al Jardine seem like giants next to the Jersey Boys. This is the group that did Pet Sounds. And released some unfathomably fantastic singles like "California Girls", "God Only Knows", "Good Vibrations" and "Sail on, Sailor". And had a tortured genius take them to incredible commercial and creative heights — as well as drag them down to some seriously embarrassing lows. Yet, I'm quite sure The Four Seasons were every bit as popular as they were.

Let's be honest: there isn't a great deal to their breakthrough smash "Sherry". The verses are of little consequence and most people would be hard pressed to describe the narrative (largely because there isn't one). The beat is not unlike contemporary Motown numbers, albeit without the same flawless musicianship. What made kids flock to it initially and what has been bringing people back ever since is that extraordinary voice of Frankie Valli's and, by extension, the stunning chorus which he brings to life.

Valli's voice isn't for everyone, especially at this early stage. (Having said that, the singer was already twenty-eight at this point so one can only wonder what he must've sounded like a decade earlier) Though I vehemently disagree with his conclusion and the score he gave, Tom Breihan's assertion that Valli sounds "like a playground bully making fun of a kid with a high-pitched voice" is hilarious. I'm not even so sure he's wrong either. Yet, I love it. His range is just incredible as though this humble 45 on a modest Philadelphia-area record label was his last shot at glory. (This was the same company that released Beatles' singles that Capitol wanted no part of in 1963; trying a year later to milk it for all it was worth, Vee-Jay even released a double album set called The Beatles vs. The Four Seasons)

And Frankie Valli sure made it count. His cohorts — Bob Gauido (who also wrote "Sherry"), Tommy DeVito and Nick Massi — all come through in a backing role but there's no mistaking who the star is. I'm not so sure if it's a matter of their powerhouse vocals, studio tricks on the part of producer Bob Crewe or the contrast of coming out of some comparatively dreary verses but each stab at that chorus seems even bigger and brighter and bolder than the last.

The Four Seasons — or one of their aliases — will be coming up several times in this blog over the next several months and years, to the extent that I'm bound to eventually get sick of them. Valli's over-the-top vocal style would eventually be tamed but their success would continue with the seven or eight CHUM/RPM number ones they would rack up vastly outstripping The Beach Boys. History would go on to remember the group on the west coast of the US but their rivals on the other side of the country deserve to be just as fondly remembered.

Score: 8

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Can Con

Like James Naismith and The Weeknd, Hank Snow is the type of celebrity who we have to be constantly reminded was Canadian - since we'd never know otherwise. On the country classic "I've Been Everywhere" he duly lists of hundreds of cities he's been to in the United States while only managing to fit Toronto and Ottawa in and, thus, is anticipating "North American" tours in which a group or singer visits four dozen towns in the US and just one or two up north. Snow's ability to list off locales at rapid-fire speed is impressive but he lacks the deadpan humour that Johnny Cash would give it on his true masterpiece, 1996's Unchained. From a modern perspective I'm a little turned off by his boasting of covering virtually every inch of the USA while barely mentioning Canada but perhaps this was a point of pride among his fans at the time. Nothing says Canadian pride like making it down in the States, you know.