On February 1, 1965 Petula Clark reached number one on Canada's RPM charts with "Downtown". A week later, it was nowhere to be found on the Top 40 & 5. (The same thing happened to The Righteous Brothers' "You've Lost That Lovin' Feeling", the chart topper during the last week of January and the previous week's number two) As a matter of fact, fully half of that week's Top 10 had suddenly disappeared from the charts just seven days later. Was there some sort of Great Pop Purge going on in Canada during the early part of '65?
Not quite. It was during this week that a unique and rather unwelcome change was made by the people at RPM to remove singles that had begun to slip down the hit parade. It didn't matter if it had been way up at the tippity top or down with the dregs, if a 45 began to fall it was over. So, what to make of it. Well, it's jarring to discover that a song that was at number one just a week earlier could vanish so suddenly. The charts aren't supposed to work that way: a single is supposed to work its way towards a peak position then gradually fade away as it makes room for others. This isn't always the way it transpires but it was the norm, particularly during the era in which physical sales still mattered.
But there is something I like about it. Not unlike the RPM chart's frequent turnover of number ones (incidentally, the current streak of one-week wonders is at ten; Elvis' "Ain't That Lovin' You Baby" all the way back in November of '64 was the last time a Canadian chart topper had spent at least a fortnight on top), I think this trend reflects the way young people consumed music back then. A single can be your favourite one week and then be dead to the listener the next. As someone who was geeky enough have his own version of the chart in his teens, I know full well how quickly a beloved single can drift from us. (Typically, a song would occupy the number one spot on Paul's Chart for however long it took, then it would drop down to number two or three and then be forgotten about entirely)
Ushering in this new phase of Canada's national chart is Jay and the Americans with "Let's Lock the Door (and Throw Away the Key)". While falling just short of the Top 10 down south, it continued the group's hot streak north of the border. While the solid if unspectacular "Come a Little Bit Closer" would go on to become their best remembered hit — along with yet another future Canadian number one that we'll be getting to before long — it doesn't approach the spectacularly unoriginal enthusiasm of "Let's Lock the Door".
Wait, 'spectacularly unoriginal enthusiasm'? This Jay and the Americans single is supposed to be better for how much it borrows from the work of others? Yes, exactly. By shoving The Beatles, Beach Boys, Four Seasons and the burgeoning Motown sound together, America's third greatest vocal group of the mid-sixties managed to just about sound like no one else. The copying is so brazen that even someone with as dead an ear as myself can hear all the influences being crammed in.
The Beach Boys and Four Seasons are the most readily apparent. Those towering Jersey Boys' harmonies are the backbone of "Let's Lock the Door" while the jazz scatting and Mike Love-esque baritone drop ins in the chorus are clearly nicked from the Wilson's over on the West Coast. Then the bridge comes in which pays an obvious debt to The Beatles' version of "Twist and Shout". Finally, there are those horns which might as well have been sampled from the Funk Brothers, Motown's highly accomplished if rarely acknowledged secret weapon. Add to the mixture some of their patented Latino rhythms and you've got a Frankenstein's monster of pop.
This all should be a huge mark against Jay and the Americans but they make it work. There's a certain genius in borrowing so liberally from a variety of sources and not failing miserably in doing so. In fact, "Let's Lock the Door" is two minutes and twenty seconds of glorious pop that any of their artistic superiors would have been proud to have released themselves. Though 1965 was becoming increasingly a place for insanely creative to thrive, it's nice to know that those more modestly talented types could keep pace — even if only fleetingly.
Score: 9
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Can Con
It's been fun tracking the progress of US immigrant Ronnie Hawkins on Canada's charts but this looks to be mostly coming to an end. More famous for a catchy if unremarkable recording by The Beach Boys, "Bluebirds Over the Mountain" is a surprising choice from the barrelhouse southern rocker. Not really the best use of his talents but it's all right all things considered. The swampy "Diddley Diddley Daddy" on the flip is the stronger song though it may not have had the commercial potential. A decent final Top 10 hit for the national treasure, (Though credited as 'Ronnie Hawkins and The Hawks' the accompanying band isn't that of Robbie Robertson, Rick Danko, Levon Helm, Garth Hudson and Richard Manuel, who had already departed and were soon to sign on as Bob Dylan's backing band. I hope they didn't begrudge him keeping their name)
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