The Beatles: "We Can Work It Out"

January 24, 1966 (1 week)

The RPM chart for the week prior to The Beatles notching their ninth number one smash prints an additional bit of info next to its title. It reads: WE CAN WORK IT OUT (f/s)

I can't find anything either to confirm or deny it so I'm just going to assume that '(f/s)' stands for 'flip side'. I suppose it could also be 'first side' but that doesn't sound quite right to me. In the UK, Ireland, Australia and New Zealand, the Fab Four's latest hit was a double A side. Though the CHUM chart had been more than open to them, this practice wasn't observed by RPM who presumably were following the American Hot 100's rule of only recognizing a single side. That said, the US singles charts also allowed for B sides to chart in their own right. Thus, The Beatles held two spots on the American Top 5 with the same single (while "We Can Work It Out" was number one, "Day Tripper" peaked at five); for whatever reason this wasn't permitted in Canada. (If I had to guess, I'd say it was due to Can Con regulations)

Famously, The Beatles had to rush to record their sixth album Rubber Soul so that it could come out in time for the Christmas market. Though deep cut "Wait" had been a holdover from the "Help!" sessions earlier that year, they wrote and recorded the thirteen remaining tracks in around a month. In addition, they had enough left in the tank for a standalone single and an unreleased instrumental. The pressure might have got to some but John, Paul, George and Ringo thrived under these conditions. Though not quite every track proved to be a classic — "What Goes On" is a Ringo number and therefore isn't especially great while "Run for Your Life" has an unsettling message even if the tune itself is quite good — more than enough of them are. The likes of "In My Life", "Norwegian Wood", "Drive My Car", "The Word" and "I'm Looking Through You" were by no means album filler: if anything, they rival and even top the two songs that ended up being selected for the group's next single.

The decision was made to pair "Day Tripper" and "We Can Work It Out" together. (While it's easy to imagine "Paperback Writer" and "Rain" ending up on Revolver and "Strawberry Fields Forever" and "Penny Lane" on Sgt Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band, I find it impossible to come up with a version of Rubber Soul that includes either of side of this single) Though John Lennon and Paul McCartney co-wrote them and their vocals appear on both, they quarreled over which one should be the A side. The more rockist Lennon preferred the former's memorable riff (as well as its suggestive lyrics) while the pop purist McCartney favoured the latter. (This isn't to suggest that they disliked the each other's picks however) Unable to agree, they gave up and let radio stations and audiences decide for themselves.

I don't know if there was a rift that developed between Lennon and McCartney over "Day Tripper" / "We Can Work It Out". If there had been the two parties must have moved on from it fairly quickly. In any case, it couldn't have been as serious as the issues that began to divide them at the end of the sixties. But what's interesting about this is that it seemed to divide listeners as well. The fanbase seems split over which one is better and which one should have received the bulk of the promotion. (As far as the critics I like to cite go, Tom Breihan prefers "Day Tripper" while Aidan Curran is firmly on the side of "We Can Work It Out". As if unable or willing to act as tie breaker, Tom Ewing doesn't specify)

Personally, I find it hard to take a side on this one. If I ever find myself leaning towards "Day Tripper" then I begin to think about how much more considered "We Can Work It Out" is. Then again, if I'm feeling like more of a "We Can Work It Out" guy, I'll immediately think about how audacious and relentlessly catchy "Day Tripper" is. The respective strengths of each are partially revealed by the other. Does "We Can Work It Out" feel just a bit too carefully thought out? Well, look no further than the more spontaneous "Day Tripper". Do you ever get the sense that "Day Tripper" isn't really doing anything new and that The Beatles might even have been phoning it in? The waltzy middle eight, Lennon's harmonium playing and even the Motown-esque use of tambourine all contribute to "We Can Work It Out" being a considerable step forward.

The Lennon-McCartney divide is there for a reason but it sometimes feels like people are searching a little too hard for examples. Lennon's section in the bridge of "We Can Work It Out" is often described as a pessimistic counter to McCartney's optimism in the verses and chorus but this over-simplistic analysis misses a couple key points. One is that McCartney is being much more bull-headed than he's normally given credit for with few even noticing his perspective is based entirely around doing things his way in order to resolve the issues he and his girlfriend have been faced with. Which brings us to Lennon, who is really there to reaffirm his partner point, even if his words are far more blunt and to-the-point. Contrary to them being polar opposites, the two had a lot more in common than we might initially assume.

Mention of the song's bridge brings to mind the group's tendency around this time to have repeated middle eights when one would have sufficed. For a two-minute pop record, there doesn't seem to be much of a reason to have a second pass through the "life is very short..." bit other than to fill up some space where another verse or a guitar solo might have gone. This could at least partially explain why Lennon and McCartney were able to dash off so many brilliant numbers within such a narrow window of time (even though many of the songs on the less hastily recorded Help! also utilize the same trick). I don't wish to pick on "We Can Work It Out" specifically for a mildly irritating trend in their work during 1965 — the next time The Beatles come up it will be with a single that has three larbourious middle eights — but the song's brevity really does make it stand out - and not in a good way.

More than "Strawberry Fields Forever" and "Penny Lane", more than "Hey Jude" and "Revolution" and more than "Something" and "Come Together", the pairing of "We Can Work It Out" and "Day Tripper" is one which needs the other. (The only other Beatles' single that comes close is the non-double A "Get Back" and "Don't Let Me Down" and that's only because they sound so much alike) Though the two aren't quite enough on their own, together they're as good anything the Fab Four ever created. If I listen to one, I have to put on the other. It's not unlike how Lennon and McCartney themselves were always far better when working together as pop and rock music's unchallenged greatest duo ever.

Score: 8

The T-Bones: "No Matter What Shape (Your Stomach's In)"

January 17, 1966 (1 week)

Eww, you like The T-Bones?!? You know they don't write their own songs.

They do so!

They don't even play their own instruments.

No. No!!!

That's not even Joe Frank Corollo's own V-neck sweater!

Ahhh!

~~~~~

As just about everyone knows, a pop sensation emerged in 1966 that took the charts by storm. It later came out that the public face of this band didn't play the instruments on their recordings which forever tarnished their reputation. Fortunately, they would seek a degree of creative freedom and would find a bit of redemption, even if shaking the image of them as frauds would never quite wear off.

This is The T-Bones, a five-piece act that had been put together in order to "perform" and promote the single "No Matter What Shape (Your Stomach's In)" since the actual musicians on it were members of Los Angeles studio group The Wrecking Crew who were preoccupied with more pressing matters and who, presumably, weren't terribly photogenic.

What's funny about this now is that a pop hit credited to The Wrecking Crew would be something would please music geeks today — especially if it had been something that had just slipped through the cracks and had only been unearthed decades later. But to hell with obscurity! Even a big hit single would've been regarded as a feather in the cap of a hardworking and talented but largely overlooked group of musicians. They were invaluable in the fame and fortune of countless stars and they deserved a taste of it themselves.

The idea of taking advertising jingles and turning them into releasable pop music is an inspired one — not to mention alien when you consider that TV ads normally get their tunes from existing recordings rather than the other way around. (I always think of the Canadian ads for butter from the late eighties that used Donovan's "Mellow Yellow" with the whispered bits altered to "just butter it") While Brian Wilson was working on his magnum opus Pet Sounds with a lyricist who'd come from the world of copyrighting, at least one record company was using the compositional skills of people in the advertising industry to supply them with potential hits.

The problem is, the Wrecking Crew are far too much the polished pros to have much fun with the theme song from an Alka-Seltzer commercial. Working under the direction of a Brian Wilson or a Phil Spector might get them to push out creatively; similarly, their deft all-around abilities displayed on singles such as The Byrds' "Mr Tambourine Man" and Simon and Garfunkel's "The Boxer" marked them out as being able to mimic the sound of just about any band out there. Nothing of either sort is going on with "No Matter What Shape". It's easy to imagine Booker T and the MG's playing around with it, gifting listeners with some typically sublime organ and guitar solos and just making it so much more than a lightweight TV jingle but that's not what the finest crew of LA session cats did with it. ("Feelin' Fine", the B-side, is surprisingly spirited, sounding far less like they were simply phoning it in)

The public face of The T-Bones went out and did the promo work. While it must've been exciting to have been on national TV, it couldn't have been very fulfilling to be a professional musician miming along to a record they didn't have any involvement in. Luckily, this didn't hold them back in the long run. Three of the fake Bones went on to a successful recording career in their own right and they'll even be appearing in this blog in a while. Hamilton, Joe Frank and Reynolds did their own singing and playing and even wrote some of their own material. I imagine they'd outgrown the V-neck sweaters by then though.

Score: 5

~~~~~

Can Con

I suppose back in the mid-sixties the idea of a Dylan parody must've seemed fresh rather than hackneyed. As for it being funny? Uh, not with this dreadful mess. Of course, it just has to be the product of a DJ who likes the sound of his own voice. (Ed.: That's every DJ that has ever lived) I previously blogged about CHUM legend Gerry Ferrier and his novelty single "The President's Canada Congress" — which I still haven't had the chance to hear; YouTube still comes up short when it comes to shitty Canadian comedy discs from decades past — but the man just wouldn't take a hint and get lost so there was lots more from him. This time, he actually made the Top 10 with "Like a Dribbling Fram" under the name Race Marbles. If you're going to make a bad Dylan-esque copy then you might as well do it as poorly as possible and in this respect Ferrier couldn't have done better. He sounds a lot more like Gordon Lightfoot than the Bard himself and that's probably the best thing I can even bring myself to say about it. I don't make many worthwhile comments in this space but I have to say I stand by what I wrote the last time his nibs came up: "Say what you will about old pop and rock stars hosting their own radio shows but they tend to be better suited to spinning records and yammering about nothing than DJ's do when it comes to cutting quality music". Quite.

The Vogues: "Five O'Clock World"

January 10, 1966 (1 week)

The opening credits and theme songs to TV sitcoms don't tend to change all that radically over time. Three's Company used the same tune ("Come and knock on our door...") while shots of the characters were altered over the years to reflect cast changes. Whether he was falling off a bike while ogling a young woman or falling into the orangutan pit at the zoo while, again, ogling a young woman, it was still John Ritter introducing himself as the lovable goof Jack Tripper. At roughly the same time, The Facts of Life's opening credits would be subtly changed as characters grew older and the show's setting shifted from Eastland Girls School to Edna's Edibles and, finally, the Over Our Heads novelty shop. Yet the song used ("You take the good, you take the bad, you take 'em both and there you have...") remained more or less the same.

But a sitcom that bucked this trend considerably during its run was The Drew Carey Show. During its first season it used a brief ditty called "Moon Over Parma" with a caricatured sketch of the show's titular star. It wasn't long and evidently didn't need to be. By the time it wrapped in 2004 (it was on for that long?), it had been using "Cleveland Rocks", a song originally by Ian Hunter of Mott the Hoople but which had now been covered by the Presidents of the United States of America, a band I had quite happily forgotten all about. By this time, Drew and the gang were doing what amounted to a giant flashmob all over the streets of the Ohio city. It sucked but by that point the show wasn't all that good anymore either.

It was the show's second theme that is of primary concern here because they used "Five O'Clock World" by The Vogues. The song didn't reference Cleveland or Ohio — and The Vogues came from a town just outside of (gasp!) Pittsburgh, a longtime nemesis of the home of Rock 'n' Roll — but it seemed perfect for the show's knowing blend of the working class grind and escapist absurdity. While viewers who were Carey's age or older were likely familiar with it, the vast majority of the show's younger following had no idea what this was. I daresay most of us never knew who The Vogues were, unless - at best - they happened to pick up a copy of Cleveland Rocks! Music from The Drew Carey Show (I didn't; I don't remember it coming out, I wasn't that big of a fan of the show and there was always something off about soundtrack albums for TV shows). The first time I saw this intro, I figured it was a gimmick that was meant to be part of that particular epsiode, not a permanent fixture of the show.

As 1965 progressed, it seemed like more of an effort was being made by pop stars to address issues and concerns beyond love and heartbreak. The Beatles finished off the year with arguably their most pivotal album release, Rubber Soul. The opening track is a supposed comedy song about a wannabe starlet who drafts in a young man to be her chauffeur. It's followed by a confessional tale of spending the night at another woman's place albeit with the narrator lying that nothing happened. The idea that the Fab Four would have crafted songs like "Drive My Car" and "Norwegian Wood" would have been unthinkable even a few months earlier. While Rubber Soul would prove to be deeply influential even to this day, it seems that many in pop on both sides of the Atlantic were moving away from simplistic love songs independent of each other. Folk music may have had a long tradition of song about unemployment but the topic of being overworked and stressed had been largely untapped.

There's a great deal to admire in "Five O'Clock World": it tells a good story, it's easy to get into and it feels like a party is about to kick off. That said, I don't quite love it. Spector-esque production was already becoming passe by 1966, especially when it didn't involve Phil Spector. I mean, if you're going to go with that wall of sound then by all means go to the master to get the desired results. I still may not like it but he would've been the one to turn to. Copying what is already a hit-and-miss production style isn't the best idea. In this case, lead singer Bill Burkette is at times downed out by his fellow Vogues and/or the Nashville session crew backing them. It doesn't help that there's just too much going on and it's just as easy to get swamped in the dense arrangement as it is to bask in all its glory.

And then there's the fact that I'm just sick of it now. Having reacquainted myself with "Five O'Clock World" for the first time since I was nineteen or twenty and still considered myself a fan of The Drew Carey Show, I was at first taken with it all over again. That was a week or so ago. Now, I'm beginning to understand why Carey opted for yet another theme song after just one season of using The Vogues' signature tune. Sure, replacing it with shouty American indie rock was a poor decision but I sympathize with why they wanted to be rid of what they'd been using. With the RPM chart of the mid-sixties being entrenched in a series of one-week number ones, I often find myself wondering how some great singles weren't able to stay on top for longer. In this instance, however, I definitely get it: seven days was more than enough.

Score: 7

~~~~~

Can Con

Born in New York and raised in Bermuda, Debbie Lori Kaye came to Canada in the early sixties so she was either a citizen or a permanent resident by the time her version of "Soldier Boy" made the RPM chart. This week it reached number twenty-six; it would peak at a respectable sixteen a couple weeks later. "Soldier Boy" has already come up in this space. In that review, I mainly discussed just how realistic these pledges of fidelity were when young men were being sent to serve in the American military. The Shirelles sing it in a way that made me convinced that there's little long-term hope for the majority of these separated couples. But here, Kaye delivers the lyrics with a good deal more hope. She actually sounds proud of her boyfriend going off to serve his country — and well she might. Their relationship was probably going to sour too but she doesn't have know what's about to come down. In any case, Kaye has a sweet voice, one that could have been put to good use on anything from country to soul. One to look out for assuming she comes up again.

The Statler Brothers: "Flowers on the Wall"

January 3, 1966 (1 week)

The music of 1966 is primarily remembered for three key album releases: The Beach Boys' Pet Sounds, Bob Dylan's Blonde on Blonde and The Beatles' Revolver. For some, this is an unbeatable trilogy of LP's and it's easy to see why. They were (and remain) adventuresome, audacious and fresh. The fact that Pet Sounds came with a pretty bad cover (though it is adorned with sweet Cooper Black font, a sixites album cover/concert poster typeface if there ever was one) and that Blonde on Blonde had been cut in Nashville alongside some of the finest country music session players could easily be dismissed or ignored entirely. These albums were radical lines drawn in the sand, separating them from a suddenly quaint bygone era of throwaway pop - or so we might have assumed.

Yet, the first RPM chart to kick off a year that the English critic Jon Savage describes as 'the year the decade exploded" is by a country group, Virginia's Statler Brothers. With the exception of crossover star Roy Orbison, there hadn't been a country single on top of the Canadian charts for years (Skeeter Davis' marvelous "The End of the World" being perhaps the last that can even be considered country-ish) In fact, the creation of the RPM Country Tracks chart in the autumn of 1964 seemed to be an acknowledgement how irrelevant C&W had become to mainstream pop listeners.

But the unpacking isn't done. Even more surprising is how "Flowers on the Wall" seemed to fail as a country single while it thrived on RPM's flagship listing. The same week it topped the pop charts it failed to even crack the country Top 10, missing out on a spot to such legendary numbers as Skip Evans' "Freckles Freckles", Artie MacLaren's "Lost Love" and the one and only Bert Cuff with "Isle of Newfoundland". And I get it: country fans are very protective of their favourite genre. If the vast majority of them weren't so damn right wing they'd probably get into fits over bands and artists selling out just as much as earnest indie rock fans do. If "Flowers on the Wall" had suddenly become popular with high school and university students with increasingly long hair who believed in peace then I can imagine their natural fanbase spurning them - even if they wouldn't for long.

Then there's the fact that "Flowers on the Wall" is more like an early version of what would soon become known as 'country-rock' than pure country. Folk listeners could've dug this (along with a character from a famous film mentioned just below, it's easy to imagine The Big Lebowski's Dude "doing a J" or enjoying several White Russians or "oat sodas" to The Statler Brothers) and that fantastic chorus about "countin' flowers on the wall, that don't bother me at all" would've appealed to your classic sixties' stoner. Though the Statlers do have tremendous C&W-style harmonies, they seem far too laid back and playful to really fit in to Nashville's mainstream. And, yet, they didn't have to resort to pretending to be a bunch of phony baloney outlaws either.

"Flowers on the Wall" is perhaps best known to my generation for its brief appearance in the 1994 classic Pulp Fiction. Bruce Willis' Butch has just left his apartment having rescued his priceless wristwatch that his girlfriend left behind while also having shot his nemesis Vincent Vega to death following a short staredown. While he should be in a state of frenzy, his demeanor is calm and he sings along with the Statlers as they're "smoking cigarettes and watching Captain Kangaroo" just as he's about to encounter the crime boss he betrayed. To Butch, this is meant to symbolize his carefree attitude in spite of the danger around him. Now that he has the watch that his ancestors suffered greatly to preserve and that he too has gone through an awful lot to get back, he isn't bothered by what's about to befall him. If the song is indeed about prison as Kurt Vonnegut theorized then Butch is ready to face it and not have it kill his spirit.

If it isn't about spending time in the joint, then perhaps it's about lacking the motivation to do much with oneself (again, right up the Dude's alley). As an anthem of laziness, it's right up there with The Beatles' "I'm Only Sleeping" (along with, it must be said, an awful lot of John Lennon numbers, both with his famous band and as a solo artist), The Beach Boys' "Busy Doin' Nothing" and Belle and Sebastian's "A Summer Wasting". While teenagers who severely lack motivation will provide excuse upon excuse for not doing their homework, not cleaning their room and not doing anything with their lives, these grown men had the answer: having shit all to do is the dream, not something to avoid or apologize for.

Score: 8

1965: Hear the Birds Above Singing Once Again

 8 — Little Anthony and the Imperials: "Goin' Out of My Head"

 9 — The Supremes: "Come See About Me"

 3 — Gerry and the Pacemakers: "I'll Be There"

 9 — The Righteous Brothers: "You've Lost That Lovin' Feeling"

 5 — Petula Clark: "Downtown"

 9 — Jay and the Americas: "Let's Lock the Door (and Throw Away the Key)"

 2 — The Kingsmen: "The Jolly Green Giant"

 4 — The Four Seasons: "Bye, Bye, Baby (Baby Goodbye)"

 5 — Georgie Fame and the Blue Flames: "Yeh Yeh"

 8 — The Beatles: "Eight Days a Week"

10 — Guess Who? (aka Chad Allan and the Expressions): "Shakin' All Over"

 6 — Petula Clark: "I Know a Place"

 4 — Herman's Hermits: "Mrs. Brown, You've Got a Lovely Daughter"

 4 — Freddie and the Dreamers: "I'm Telling You Now"

 3 — Herman's Hermits: "Silhouettes"

7 / 4 — Unit 4+2: "Concrete and Clay" / Eddie Rambeau: "Concrete and Clay"

10 — The Beatles: "Ticket to Ride"

 6 — The Beach Boys: "Help Me, Rhonda"

 5 — The Supremes: "Back in My Arms Again"

 8 — The Yardbirds: "For Your Love"

 1 — Bobby Vinton: "L-O-N-E-L-Y"

 4 — Herman's Hermits: "Wonderful World"

 6 — Jay and the Americans: "Cara Mia"

 6 — Johnny Rivers: "The Seventh Son"

 7 — Jackie DeShannon: "What the World Needs Now"

 4 — Tom Jones: "What's New Pussycat?"

 5 — Billy Joe Royal: "Down in the Boondocks"

 3 — Gary Lewis and the Playboys: "Save Your Heart for Me"

 5 — Sonny and Cher: "I Got You Babe"

 9 — The Beatles: "Help!"

 6 — Eddie Rambeau: "My Name Is Mud"

 5 — Barry McGuire: "Eve of Destruction"

 6 — The Fortunes: "You've Got Your Troubles"

 7 — Roy Orbison: "Ride Away"

 2 — Sonny: "Laugh at Me"

 4 — Sonny and Cher: "Baby Don't Go"

 9 — The Toys: "A Lover's Concerto"

 6 — Billy Joe Royal: "I Knew You When"

 9 — Bob Dylan: "Positively 4th Street"

 4 — The Rolling Stones: "Get Off of My Cloud"

 7 — The Walker Brothers: "Make It Easy on Yourself"

 4 — Little Caesar and the Consuls: "You Really Got a Hold on Me"

 1 — The Wonder Who?: "Don't Think Twice"

 6 — The Dave Clark Five: "Over and Over"

I began blogging about the Canadian number ones on May 10, 2025 and am now only just finishing it off as August is beginning to wind down. During this time, I turned forty-eight, South Korea, the country I reside in, elected a new president and Ozzy Osbourne passed away — and I'm sure a few other things happened as well but I'm fucked if I can remember any of them.

Getting through all forty-four chart toppers has been a grind. I had initially intended to try to get through them all by the end of June but that proved to be way too optimistic. I had a houseguest, a ten day English camp I was working at and trips to Jeju Island and Thailand but the interruptions weren't the toughest part. Rather, it was the slog of getting through so many mediocre singles: Herman's Hermits, Freddie and the Dreamers, Barry McGuire, Sonny and Cher — and, worse yet, Sonny Bono on his own.

Obviously there are some excellent selections present. This is, after-all, the first year covered in which two chart toppers got full marks. (Plus, an additional six came just shy of getting a 10) This being a crowded year, however, the overall quality proved to be all over the place. Naturally, any chance for some consistently good singles wasn't aided by all the fantastic 45's that the Canadian public chose to spurn. Sorry, I know this is a point I have belaboured for the better part of four months (come to think of it, I'm pretty sure I have even managed to belabour all my apologies for belabouring the point) but I feel it is worth mentioning one more time. "My Girl", "I Can't Help Myself (Sugar Pie Honey Bunch)", "Mr. Tambourine Man", "(I Can't Get No) Satisfaction", "Yesterday", "Like a Rolling Stone", "Turn! Turn! Turn!": all could have easily increased the average score and made my (unpaid) job of reviewing Canadian number ones just that less tedious. (Incidentally, this year's average score is a 5.67 which is actually a bit higher than I had been expecting)

Not that 1966 will be any better. There will be a nice selection of classics but with forty-six number ones there's a good chance I'll be sifting through plenty of detritus as well. But hey, that's all part of what I signed on for!

The Dave Clark Five: "Over and Over"

December 27, 1965 (1 week)

Bloody Americans. Amazing how they make everything about themselves and still manage to act aggrieved all the time. But enough about that ghastly, disgusting fool in the White House. 

The Dave Clark Five had a respectable eight Top 10 hits in the United States. They had the same number of hits in their native Britain though only four of them managed to do so on both sides of the Atlantic. Meanwhile in Canada, no less than fifteen of their singles made the upper quadrant of the charts, including three numbers ones (yes, there's still one more to go). The DC5 did solid business in many territories around the world but Canada was certainly their strongest market. Yet you'd never know it given their tour itinerary.

Out of curiosity, I looked up The Dave Clark Five's tour schedule for 1965. According to Setlist.fm, they played seventy shows that year. Not bad but I would've expected closer to double that, not unlike the one hundred and fifty-four they played in '64. Assuming the records are complete (and that's by no means a guarantee), they only played once in their native Britain during that twelve month period and it happened to be at the Royal Variety Performance in November (The Beatles having once again turned down their invitation to perform after having stolen the show in '63). They started the year off with a five day residence at the Araneta Coliseum in Quezon City, Philippines before returning to the UK presumably to rest and do some recording — and possibly to play more gigs that haven't been accounted for over on Setlist. They returned to the Far East in May, doing one off shows in both Singapore and Hong Kong and then headed Down Under. They did seven shows in Australia and then nine in New Zealand. Hey, if you're going to go that far you might as well make it worth your while.

The DC5 finally made it to North America on June 18 with a show in New York. Two days later they appeared on the Ed Sullivan Show. Soon after that they were north of the border in Sudbury, Ontario, Canada's mining capital and the place that Neil Armstrong, Buzz Aldrin and Michael Collins were sent prior to their mission to the Moon so they could experience something approximating Lunar conditions. The next day, they were in "nearby" Sault Ste. Marie, a border town where Lake Superior and Lake Huron meet. (Actually, it's a pretty nice place considering much of northern Ontario is so bleak) They then headed back down south before playing a show in my hometown of Calgary just as the city was hosting its annual Exhibition and Stampede. After that it was back to touring the shit out of the USA.

Considering all the chart success they were having, it's worth asking why they never went on a lengthy Canadian tour. I know it's never been an especially lucrative market, particularly back in the sixties, but still they would've cleaned up. And with singles like "Over and Over" it was as if they were begging fans to go out and see them. While just a reasonably good rock 'n' roll song, you've got to think they would've torn the roof off of every arena they played from Victoria to St. John's.

Looking back at the last time they came up, I'm struck by how I could've stood to have been a little more generous towards the DC5. Then, I gave "Bits and Pieces" another listen and I stand by every word of what I wrote. Clark could pound the crap out of a drum kit and the stomping is a nice touch but there's nothing else worth mentioning about it. Fortunately, they got better over the previous two years. Clark's bandmates stay out of his way for the most part, keeping a steady, rumbling pace during the verses and allowing their beloved leader to make his case for being the British Invasion's finest drummer. Mike Smith sounds a great deal more confident in his singing too.

Critical consensus agrees that the original by Bobby Day is much better but I'm not so sure. While the message of the song about being a giant party pooper is better communicated by the more mellow Day, I quite like the fact that the DC5 are undermining their point. The song they're playing suggests everyone's having a good time and that Smith doesn't even seem all that bothered that the girl he's been chatting up isn't digging his moves. Rather than wallowing in teen angst, these guys are just going to show up at another party the next night and try to impress the shit out of everyone all over again. I wouldn't have the nerve to do the same myself but I applaud them for their spirit. It's just a pity they chose not to share this spirit with a few more of their devoted Canadian fans.

Score: 6

The Wonder Who?: "Don't Think Twice"

December 20, 1965 (1 week)

Taking a look at acts with the most Canadian number ones on both the CHUM and RPM charts up to this point, Elvis Presley still has a commanding lead with seventeen chart toppers. In a distant second but coming on strong are The Beatles with eight. Right below them are The Four Seasons with a very impressive seven. Beyond that, no one else has more than three number ones, though this would soon begin to change.

Up until now, they've been solid. Not all have been brilliant but at worst I've been indifferent to them. "Sherry" is excellent while follow-up "Big Girls Don't Cry" is just all right, more of the same but not nearly as good. Their third number one, "Walk Like a Man", seemed to get them back on course which led them to their two finest singles to date, "Rag Doll" and "Save It for Me". Sure, "Bye, Bye, Baby (Baby, Goodbye)" was a considerable step in the wrong direction but it's not so bad considering it's their least impressive 45 to date.

On a technicality it still remains their worst since "Don't Think Twice" is credited to The Wonder Who?, a near one off name stemming from supposed contractual issues. Considering that Frankie Valli had been unhappy with his vocals during the sessions for a reported album of all Bob Dylan covers (which ended up being folded into the more compromised release The 4 Seasons Sing Big Hits by Burt Bachrach...Hal David...Bob Dylan), it's possible the use of a pseudonym was also to avoid embarrassment - and who can blame him?

To be as fair as possible, I do sort of like the idea of this. Dylan was already a revered figure (at least in some circles) so I appreciate the act of having some fun with one of his compositions while tearing down the mythology surrounding him. The Four Seasons The Wonder Who? weren't even alone in doing so in the late stages of 1965. The Beach Boys did a silly version of "The Times They Are a-Changin'" for their Beach Boys' Party! album which seemed to find the right balance between folk music righteousness and moronic frat boy frolics. A serious Al Jardine takes the lead vocal while everyone else (as well as a few female companions by the sound of it) has a laugh with it. Were the likes of Mike Love and Dennis Wilson deliberately trying to sabotage such a serious and important song? Perhaps but their behaviour throughout the Party! sessions indicates that every song they had tried out had been fair game for mockery. (And, honestly, there are plenty of Bob Dylan songs to take the mickey out of — in addition to "The Times They Are a-Changin'", there's "Blowin' in the Wind", "A Hard Rain's a-Gonna Fall" and all those stream-of-conscious works that seem like drivel half the time; by contrast, "Don't Think Twice, It's All Right" is mature beyond Dylan's tender years — he was just twenty-one at the time he recorded it for The Freewheelin' Bob Dylan — and it seems like poor taste to have a go at such a thoughtful song, especially when, as I say, there are more obvious targets out there)

Hopefully Valli and his chums had a good time recording "Don't Think Twice" but the fun vibes fail to rub off on the listener — or this one at any rate. Tom Breihan's reviews of early Four Seasons' Hot 100 chart toppers indicate that he has little patience for Valli's glass-cutting soprano but his wailing on "Sherry" is nothing compared to "Don't Think Twice". It's actually kind of impressive that he's able to twist his vocal range to such a register but having to listen to it is torturous. Whatsmore, the other members of the band aren't able to rescue it either. While Valli's voice isn't to everyone's taste, those tremendous block harmonies could always be relied upon to justify the existence of even the most mundane Four Seasons' numbers. Yet here all they're capable of is what you might get from a group of stiffs who have been cajoled into an all-male chorus and are in suitably wooden. (The remainder of their Dylan covers are more straightforward but no less uninspired)

Up until now, the CHUM/RPM chart toppers that have received the lowest possible score from me are by some of the most hopeless acts imaginable. Sheb Wooley, David Seville and the Chipmunks, Anita bloody Bryant, Andy Stewart, Bobby bloody Vinton: a murderer's row of crap. People whose best work is still the shits. But now for the first time we have what had once been a genuinely outstanding pop group descending into such pitiful depths. There could well be more dramatic falls from grace as this blog goes forward — yes, I'm looking at you, Jefferson Airplane-Jefferson Starship-Starship — but you never forget your first. Bad as "Don't Think Twice" is, it's certainly not something I'm going to forget about anytime soon.

Score: 1

Little Caesar and the Consuls: "You've Really Got a Hold on Me"

December 13, 1965 (1 week)

1965 was wrapping up which meant that a second year of Beatlemania was in the can. It wasn't quite as heady as a year earlier but it was still very much present. Though lacking the same unrelenting schedule of releases and re-releases, The Beatles still managed to have three number one hits in Canada with "Yesterday" only topping out at number four being their sole blemish. Some of the lesser lights who had found fame in their slipstream began giving way in favour of groups like The Rolling Stones but there was still no question who reigned. Such was the thirst for more material that the Ringo-sung "Boys" from all the way back in the first half of '63 found itself on the RPM charts for a brief stint. The public couldn't wait for more.

It is perhaps with this in mind that Toronto's Little Caesar and the Consuls returned to the hit parade with their cover of "You've Really Got a Hold on Me". Not originally a Beatles number, no, but one that was identifiable enough with the Fab Four, as many of their cover versions had become. It had languished on Beatlemania! with The Beatles, the re-named Canadian version of their second album, with no evidence that anyone, anywhere thought it merited being released as a single in its own right. (The Beatles had an embargo on putting out non-original 45's back in Britain but few cared about respecting their wishes abroad; nevertheless, covers such as "Twist and Shout", "Roller Over Beethoven", and "Rock and Roll Music" were more sought out for singles markets in various countries)

If Little Caesar and the Consuls weren't quite an established chart act in Canada then they were certainly on the rise. Their rendition of "(My Girl) Sloopy" made it all the way to number three in their homeland and even did respectably enough on the American Hot 100. While more and more groups were becoming self-sufficient with their material, the Consuls had to once again go the cover version route. While "You've Really Got a Hold on Me" is a great choice for a band looking to score a second Top 10 hit in the row, their version doesn't do much with the Smokey Robinson composition.

Singer/pianist Bruce Morshead tries some country and western style vocals but little else in the arrangement suggests much beyond a laid back wedding band discount Beatles. Slowing down the pace of an already mid-tempo number wasn't the best idea though it should be said that their "Sloopy" is surprisingly languid and it works fairly well. But here it just sounds like they're going through the motions of a song they know well and are clearly fond of. Maybe a little too fond of since reverence seldom results in inspiration.

I've heard people put forth the notion that a cover version ought to improve on the original but I'm not sure I'd expect that much from every single remake - and, indeed, it didn't behoove Little Caesar and the Consuls to have done so. What I would say though is that something new ought to be tried out on a cover. Give me a reason to listen to their "You've Really Got a Hold on Me" as an alternative to The Mircales or The Beatles and that's good enough. But they failed to do so which then begs the question: why bother?

Score: 4

The Walker Brothers: "Make It Easy on Yourself"

November 29, 1965 (2 weeks)

I was in my early-to-mid twenties when I began to hear the name Scott Walker an awful lot. Like Nick Drake and Gram Parsons, he was this tortured artist who no one appreciated when he was young and beautiful. Except in Walker's case, he was still alive at the time. And he wasn't quite as good looking as either Nick or Gram. And he had once been hugely successful, albeit not for all that long. But otherwise, they were three peas in a pod!

Like German novelist Thomas Mann, Walker seemed to "immature with age" as critic Geoff Dyer puts it. In Mann's case, it was political. He went from a young conservative who strongly supported imperialist Germany in the First World War to eventually being so enamoured of social democracy that he found himself abandoning his life in the United States because of the Senator Joseph McCarthy's red scare witch trials — and this was when he was well into his seventies. You're supposed to become a Tory as you get older, not go radical over time. As for Walker, he did so creatively, churning out grand pieces of baroque pop before gradually embracing avant-garde music just as his contemporaries were selling out to MTV commercialism.

One can scarcely detect that it's the same individual who crooned on Jacques Brel's "Mathilde" and Andre Previn's "You're Gonna Hear from Me" on solo debut Scott to the man who crafted the smokestack industrial bleakness of "Bouncer See Bouncer..." and "Face on Breast" on his 1995 masterpiece Tilt. Talk about a departure. Yet his period with fictional brothers Gary and John is typically ignored altogether even though it was by far his most productive time chartwise and wasn't really all that different from his early solo work.

While there has been a steady stream of UK acts who became stars in the US while being little-known back home (The Zombies and Bush are perhaps the two most famous examples), there seem to be fewer who managed to do the reverse. Basically it's The Walker Brothers and Sparks, the longtime duo comprised of real life brothers Ron and Russell Mael. The Walkers did have a fleeting period in which they looked to become big in North America, however, and it was with "Make It Easy on Yourself" that they made their first splash.

Over on Tom Ewing's Popular page, many of the comments accompanying the review of "Make It Easy on Yourself" seem to suggest that Scott Walker is an unconvincing lead singer. I'd agree but that's sort of the case with a lot of his material, especially in the sixties. He could always convince the listener that being Scott Walker was an experience in itself but as for what he did with the lyrics he was presented with, that's another matter. He keeps his cards close to his chest and it's impossible to say whether that's by design or not. The late Jerry Butler's original, by contrast, goes heavy on the emotion as he tries to be as understanding as any spurned man has ever been. Well, scratch that. I remember the first time I was dumped and at one point I tried the highroad tactic (and, no, it didn't help my cause any).

Ambiguous though it no doubt is, The Walker Brothers' version of "Make It Easy on Yourself" is stronger than Butler's. Scott's nougatty tenor alone makes it worthwhile but there's also the hint of a dark side that reveals itself which may be an indication that this isn't as benevolent a song as we might think. It isn't quite at the level of Scott 3 and Scott 4, let alone his recordings from his radical, old-age renaissance, but it certainly gives everyone an indication that a major talent was coming up — even if very few would stick around to hear the end results. Their loss.

Score: 7

~~~~~

Hey! Where's...?

1965 has been quite the year for should've been RPM number ones so it's only right that it ought to wrap up with yet another pop injustice. The Byrds were a remarkably creative and influential group, one that changed its sound an awful lot considering they were such an inspiration to generations of boring old power pop groups. But they were never as successful as they should've been. Still, at least in the US they had a pair of number one hits with "Mr. Tambourine Man" and "Turn! Turn! Turn!" respectively which is more than can be said north of the border. Coming up short to the Walkers isn't such a travesty but there are a couple of duds coming up that I wish it could've pushed out of the way. But at least it stood a chance as opposed to all those stunning Byrds' singles to come that didn't get a chart placement at all. Where the justice for "Have You Seen Her Face"?

The Rolling Stones: "Get Off of My Cloud"

November 22, 1965 (1 week)

Someone had to be the group that was supposed to provide a credible alternative to The Beatles and this responsibility landed on The Rolling Stones. To their credit, they didn't simply languish in the shadow of the Fab Four beyond releasing their passable version of "I Wanna Be Your Man". They had already released a few great singles prior to their belated ascension to the number one spot in Canada with many, many more to come. But "Get Off of My Cloud" isn't one of them.

Like Bob Dylan, the Stones didn't have their first Canadian number one with the single from 1965 that most people remember them for but for its difficult follow-up. It's as if "Like a Rolling Stone" and "(I Can't Get No) Satisfaction" walked so that their predecessors could run. But the momentum was such that it took comparatively weak singles all the way to the top of the charts — the difference being that while "Positively 4th Street" is just a step below the quality of "Like a Rolling Stone", "Get Off of My Cloud" is a big fall off from "Satisfaction".

Writers Mick Jagger and Keith Richards have even admitted as much, pointing out that their breakthrough global smash was damn-near impossible to follow. One-hit wonders obviously have trouble replicating their success but this jinx can even weigh down a group as big as The Rolling Stones. (The Beatles, for their part, never seemed to struggle following their hits) Perhaps it just goes to show that the London quintet wasn't quite firing on all cylinders: Jagger and Richards weren't the potent songwriting duo they'd soon become and Brian Jones' potential as a maverick all-arounder hadn't yet been tapped.

In his notorious but — to quote critic Paul du Noyer — "horribly readable" biography The Lives of John Lennon, Albert Goldman brings up a flawed but still worthwhile point that the Fab Four should have followed the Stones' example by recording their singles and albums in state-of-the-art studios in Los Angeles rather than at London's primitive Abbey Road facilities. Goldman believed that they could have achieved much the same results only it would have been cheaper and a quicker process. There's probably at least some truth to this claim but it wasn't as if decamping to Hollywood suddenly made the Stones a polished recording act. "Satisfaction" had been churned out swiftly while in California with a newfound clarity that obviously worked but the same can't be said for "Get Off of My Cloud" which sounds as roughhouse and under-produced as they'd ever been. (Is it any wonder Andrew Loog Oldham is credited as a capable manager of the group while his abilities as a producer are rarely if ever discussed?) What was the point of heading off to LA only for the end product to sound so sloppy?

Even at their very best, The Rolling Stones have always been erratic. Their first big run of hits in the sixties has its ups and downs. Breakthrough album Aftermath includes a very lengthy track called "Going Home" which just about ruins an otherwise flawless LP. Their much-loved foursome of albums from 1968 to 1972 aren't quite as endlessly brilliant as they're often said to be. Even their stretch of consistently bad records in their eighties was occasionally interrupted by the odd "Waiting on a Friend" or "Undercover of the Night". So, good on them for getting into the swing of things by having the still magnificent "Satisfaction" be followed by one of their weakest efforts. Fortunately, we'll be encountering the Stones about seven more times from now until the end of the eighties and each of their remaining Canadian chart toppers is a good deal stronger than this one.

Score: 4

~~~~~

Can Con

Aloha — 22 Chansons Hawaiennes. This was the album from which Quebec's own Michel Louvain would score is sole RPM hit (at least that I know of). Francophone hits on Canada's national charts have always been a rarity but this one seems especially surprising given how tricky Anglophones were finding it at the time. Jumping on the Blue Hawaii bandwagon — assuming there had ever been such a thing — Louvain briefly managed to cross over. I hope that much like Celine Dion and Roch Voisine he had more of facility with singing in his own language since "C'est un secret" is a grim, slog of a listen. Don Ho would've rolled his eyes at all the Hawaiian cliches present. I'll stick with French duo Air and Israel "Bruddah Iz" Kamakawiwo'ole for some French and Hawaiian music respectively. A pity the two never worked together, come to think of it.

Bob Dylan: "Positively 4th Street"

November 15, 1965 (1 week)

Highway 61 Revisited is my favourite Bob Dylan album. No, this isn't one of my more contrary opinions. While there are other Dylan LP's some people favour over it, there aren't many. The two that are most often placed ahead of it in polls are Blonde on Blonde and Blood on the Tracks. At nearly an hour and fifteen minutes, the former is far too long with it getting awfully samey around the ninth or tenth tracks. (I simply adored it the first time I gave it a listen back in the late nineties but my affection for it has waned ever since) As for the latter, I do really like it though it is one I have to be in the mood for — a state that I am all too familiar with when it comes to listening to Dylan. (John Wesley Harding, Desire, and Oh Mercy are three of my other faves but they too can sometimes get on my nerves or cause my mind to wander) Even Highway 61 isn't the sort of thing I seek out all that frequently even if I always get a lot of out of it when I occasionally give it a spin.

An interesting Highway 61 fun fact is that its nine selections happen to be in chronological order (or near enough). Opener "Like a Rolling Stone" was recorded on June 19, 1965, the next two cuts, "Tombstone Blues" and "It Takes a Lot to Laugh, It Takes a Train to Cry", were from July 29 while "From a Buick 6" came a day later. On August 2, he had an especially productive day, cutting the extraordinary quartet of "Ballad of a Thin Man", "Queen Jane Approximately", the title track, and "Just Like Tom Thumb's Blues". Two days later, he set down the brilliant "Desolation Row". Bloody hell. Whether by intention or dumb luck, this became the running order.

While the August 2 session is simply unbeatable, there's plenty to be said for what Dylan accomplished on July 29 as well. In addition to a pair of typically excellent Highway 61 cuts, he also finished off an exceptional track that didn't even make it on to his latest LP. Rather than leaving it to collect dust until archived for a future money-grab boxset and/or gifting it to a folk-rock act in dire need of a hit, Dylan ended up issuing "Positively 4th Street" as a stand-alone single in the autumn of 1965. Now, as one of the individuals who is credited with establishing the rock album as a serious work, the idea that Dylan of all people would release something with just the singles charts in mind seems ludicrous. That said, while 1965 was a pivotal year for the rock album, The Beatles closed out the year with the twin release of their seminal sixth long player Rubber Soul and the double A side "We Can Work It Out" / "Day Tripper", their fifth stand-alone single to date. The apogee of seventies' stadium rock and colossal LPs like Led Zeppelin IV and Dark Side of the Moon was still a few years off so it was still viable to be in both the albums and singles markets — even for Dylan. (While "Positively 4th Street" would appear on the best-selling compilation Bob Dylan's Greatest Hits the following year, its relatively unsuccessful follow-up, "Can You Please Crawl Out Your Window?", wouldn't be released on a widely available collection until 1985's Biograph)

Why was "Positively 4th Street" spurned from inclusion on Highway 61? Well, as opposed to the common explanation that it simply didn't fit, it may have fitted in a little too well. Dylan's spitefulness was seldom a turn off for the majority of his fans but it was something he could have been in danger of overdoing at times. With his latest album opening with "Like a Rolling Stone", there was already more than enough bitterness to be accounted for. "Ballad of a Thin Man" also made the cut and there had to be room for some of Dylan's anguish and humour. The word 'room' also brings to mind that Highway 61's fifty-one minute running time was already on the long side so the inclusion of four minute track would have been almost unthinkable. (Blonde on Blonde would do its part in throwing any semblance of brevity in rock out the window the following year)

Being a Bob Dylan song, there's a great deal of speculation surrounding just who "Positively 4th Street" might be about. Plenty of Dylanologists have made plausible cases for various individuals (or, in some cases, of it being an amalgamation of more than one) but I wonder if it was meant at least in part to be his own reply to his most recent hit. "You've got a lot of nerve to say you are my friend," Dylan begins. "When I was down you just stood there grinnin'": the woman who had been the object of his scorn in "Like a Rolling Stone" could now be standing up to the those who had been enjoying the sight of her wallowing in poverty and misery. Of course, the remainder of the song deals with other issues that have little-to-nothing to do with so this notion ought to either be taken with a heavy pinch of salt or ignored entirely.

1965 had been a remarkable year for Dylan. While prolific even for him, it also resulted in his breakthrough as a serious chart act while at the same time the likes of The Byrds and Sonny and Cher were earning him a great deal of income via their covers. On the downside, Dylan had been infamously met with resistance when he plugged in at the Newport Folk Festival. And even though fourth album Another Side of Bob Dylan had been out for over a year, there were many in the folk music circuit who couldn't or wouldn't forgive his transition from protest songs to more personal material. Songs like "All I Really Want to Do", "Chimes of Freedom" and "My Back Pages" had already addressed this change of course and he even tried to give his fans a gentle pat on the back on "It Ain't Me Babe" but to no avail. By the the second half of '65, he'd had enough of them. "Positively 4th Street" feels like he's dressing down every fair weather fan, every fickle critic, every colleague that no long wanted to have anything to do with him, everyone who had once held him up as the saviour that he never claimed to be only to have dragged his name through the mud.when he supposedly let them all down. The irony is, in distancing himself from protest music, he ended up with one of his most potent protest songs of his entire career — his former supports just never imagined that they'd be the topic of said protest. ("Lay Lady Lay" aside, perhaps Dylan had a point when he told Rolling Stone "I think all my stuff is protest material in some kind of way")

Finally, it's worth mentioning that this is the only time Bob Dylan will be appearing in this space — at least as a solo artist. While a single, solitary number one may seem far too low for such a major artist, his Bobness never had a chart topper in either the US or the UK so just the fact that he's here at all is a welcome addition. (Having him here just about makes up for all the many great singles that failed to reach the top spot in Canada this year) "Like a Rolling Stone" would have been a sure fire 10 but this one is more than adequate in its place. (I would've also preferred the zany and hilarious "Highway 61 Revisited" which would've made a smashing single in its own right but who's to say how it would've done chartwise) Dylan was on such a roll during this time that even something as relatively ordinary as this was still miles ahead of the pack.

Score: 9

Billy Joe Royal: "I Knew You When"

November 8, 1965 (1 week)

Many Tears Ago: Some Billy Joe Royal "Fun" Facts

✓    He Didn't Use a Stage Name

Stunning but true! The man born William Joseph Royal went on to pop success as Billy Joe Royal, which is hardly a radical change of identity. I would've guessed he had been baptized as something like 'William Joseph Dingle' or 'William Joseph Barraclough' only for a hucksterish manager from South Carolina to step in and gave him the much more, well, royal surname. Easily pop music's most contrived-sounding real name with the exception of the Captain and Tennille's Daryl Dragon.

✓    Canadians Really Took to Him

Two number one hits north of the border for his nibs when the best he could do in his native United States was a measly number nine with "Down in the Boondocks". "I Knew You When" did no better than fourteen down south. While the normally reliable setlist.fm is of little use to me, I'm pretty sure he played more than one Canadian gig during this period. If anything, you'd think the concert opportunities would have been plentiful up in Canada. Ontarians no doubt embraced his southern bar band rock stylings while out in the prairie provinces they could sense a future country and western star a mile away. (Hell, Quebeckers were probably fooled by his patois, assuming he ever bothered affecting one)

✓    His Second-Biggest Hit Is a Step Up from His Signature Tune

Not by a whole lot, no, but I'd take "I Knew You When" over "Down in the Boondocks". Dancing around the Gene Pitney comparisons with his first big hit, he fully embraces them here and - to hell with originality! - he was right to do so. Dramatic and impassioned, Royal utilizes his voice to its fullest extent without going over the line into sickly melodrama. (Ed.: The above isn't a fact, rather it is simply the opinion of the writer of this so-called review) 

✓    The RPM Chart Wasn't Exactly Brimming with Pop Classics

The bizarre practice of purging descending singles from the Top 40 was still in effect which meant that The Toys were done after a fortnight on top and The Beatles' "Yesterday" was nowhere to be found after a relatively modest peak of number four a week earlier. Instead, there are some eccentric covers including a largely forgotten version of The Beatles' "You've Got to Hide Your Love Away" by The Silkie (yes, the singular 'Silkie' rather than the plural regardless of what the good people at RPM would have you believe) and unexpected arrangement of a Dylan song (see below). In addition, a so-so bunch of future Canadian chart toppers were on the rise as was The Byrds with "Turn! Turn! Turn!" which unjustly failed to reach number one. With all due respect to a solid entry from Royal, his competition wasn't exactly stellar.

✓    Billy Joe Royal Would Go on to Success in Country Music

Yeah, no shit.

Score: 6

~~~~~

Can Con

As mentioned above, yet another Dylan cover was doing well in the charts as 1965 began drawing to a close. Up ten places and into the Top 20 this week is Gordon Lightfoot with "Just Like Tom Thumb's Blues". The penultimate track on Dylan's most recent album Highway 61 Revisited, it doesn't strike the listener as a potential hit single the way both "Tombstone Blues" and the title track do. So, points for making something out of an apparent commercial dud. That said, it's not great. Yes, it did receive acclaim at the time and returned Gord to within inches of his first number one hit but I find it impossible to separate from both Dylan's vastly superior original and Lightfoot's own creative peak to come. In a way, Lightfoot is too good for the material. Not that it's a poor song, far from it, but it's a great example of someone over-correcting Dylan's modest singing. That beautiful, oak-aged voice of Gord's is present and correct but ill-suited to grasping all of Dylan's humour, irony, literary-ness and rage. Yet, Orillia, Ontario's favourite son isn't the worst thing about it. Horns and backing vocals and a lush arrangement may have seemed like a good idea at the time but they how can they compare with that tinny piano part in the original? They can't. In retrospect, Lightfoot's sixites represented a build up to his mammoth seventies so I like to think that his messy recordings from this period represent growth on his part. I can't tell you how much I'm looking forward to reviewing some of his genuinely great singles. In the meantime, how about an actual Bob Dylan song for me to sink my teeth into?