Connie Francis: "Everybody's Somebody's Fool" / "Jealous of You"

June 20, 1960 (2 weeks)

I'm not a huge fan of race car driving but I have long thought that the story of Mario Andretti is fascinating. While some would focus on open-wheel racing and try to move up to the prestigious Formula 1 and/or IndyCar circuits and others on stock cars in hopes of advancing to NASCAR, the Italian-born Andretti seemed happy to compete in races of all kinds. (I think I once heard that he even dabbled in drag racing but I can't confirm it) And while not quite the greatest of all time in any particular discipline, he was damn good in all of 'em. At various points he won the Indianapolis 500, the Daytona 500, the 1978 Formula 1 title and the 24 Hours of Le Mans — and plenty more at that, many of which in circuits I've never heard of.

A really good vocalist ought to be capable of being an Andretti of music: someone who tries out a variety of genres and can effortlessly bounce around from one to another. Not exactly a master of one but a still a stand out in many. Connie Francis had already been a major pop starlet in the late fifties but her success didn't lead to her pigeonholing herself; it only seemed to encourage her to spread herself out further. Not only did this involve her toying with styles like middle-of-the-road mainstream pop, vocal jazz and country but it also got her singing in a variety of languages including Italian and Yiddish. With the burgeoning West German market in mind, she even recorded a special polka version of "Everybody's Somebody's Fool" retitled as "Die Liebe ist ein seltsames Spiel" which promptly went to number one.

And yet, Tom Breihan describes her in 1960 as having "made the transition from pop to country". Uh, yeah, I suppose one might jump to that conclusion if they had only listened to the A-sides of her two biggest American hits that year, "Everybody's Somebody's Fool" and "My Heart Has a Mind of Its Own". But flip them over and you get the mostly Italian language "Jealous of You" on the former and the Latino-flavoured "Malaguena" — sung entirely in Spanish — on the latter. Neither of them has anything to do with country music. It would be like saying that Mario Andretti had become a NASCAR driver even though he was still racing the IndyCar and Formula 1 circuits.

Breihan concedes that Connie Francis was more in the country-pop realm which is reasonably close to describing "Everybody's Somebody's Fool". Yet it is the aforementioned German-language rendition that emphasizes that it is much more pop than country. It is a fine, catchy little number that could be adapted in a variety of genres and, indeed, languages. It was only with Loretta Lynn's version that the countryness really starts to stand out. Francis, meanwhile, was practically becoming a genre unto herself.

If anything, "Jealous of You" is even better than its more well known single companion. I don't know what it is but she sounds absolutely enchanting singing in Italian. Her German was kind of awkward but she's so effortless with the Romance languages that you'd think she had been a native speaker of Spanish and/or Italian, which, as it turns out, she had been. (For some reason, it doesn't appear she recorded a whole lot in French; she grew up in an Italian-American household with many Jewish neighbours and couldn't have been too far away from the Latino population of New York but I can't imagine she knew many Francophones as a girl)

Connie Francis had an extraordinary career of bouncing around from genre to genre — album titles such as Sings Italian Favorites, Rock 'n' Roll Million Sellers, Country & Western — Golden Hits and Sings Fun Songs for Children really displays the diversity of her range — and from language to language. At a time when it may not necessarily have looked like English was going to rule the world to the extent it does now, she pioneered the practice of catering to Europeans as a bilingual songstress which led to her having a huge following across Atlantic. But she experienced severe trauma in the seventies and eighties that many would not be able to come back from. Well done to her for her remarkable artistry and for being a survivor — and, of course, for her wide range and interest a multitude of styles. In fact, rather her than being the Andretti of music, Mario Andretti is the Connie Francis of auto racing.

Score: 7

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