5 Songs February 9, 2024

Some pretty good music is on my mind this week

David and Jonathan. – “Lovers of the World Unite,” 1966 single available on David and Jonathan. Since both of these guys were actually named Roger, I guess they thought making up new names would be catchier than calling themselves Roger and Roger. It worked, in England, anyway, as they hit big with a cover of “Michelle” and this harpsichord driven number which picked up on the San Francisco peace and love vibes somehow making their way to London. I’m not going to claim this is a masterpiece or anything, but there are things which make this record work. The harpsichord grabs me first thing, and then they launch right into that earwormy chorus where the melody on each line circles in on itself, or maybe looks like a pyramid if you wrote it on a musical staph. When they modulate up on the fifth line, a single voice breaks through the harmony on the words “keep the” with two notes way higher than any other in the song, and it gets me every time. The rhythm section is pretty cool, too, with an especially active bass line running rings around the hard strummed acoustic guitar and steady drums. This is a fun little record to have discovered after all these years.

Clive Gregson – “I Love This Town” 1996 from I Love This Town. I’ve followed Gregson’s career for more than 40 years, from his days in the band Any Trouble (which drew comparisons to Elvis Costello & the Attractions) to his time in Richard Thompson’s brilliant 80s bands to his partnership with Christine Collister on to a solo career which ended with retirement in 2020 four albums short of the planned twelve he announced he would release that year. This one was the last album with any kind of saturation in the low level marketplace he inhabited. I remember seeing him at the Webster Groves location of Focal Point that year. My friend and I were loudly dissing Oasis during the intermission as he happened to walk by, and he opened his next set by announcing he was going to play one of the best new songs he’d heard in years, “Wonderwall.” Anyway, this song is a typical melodic delight from Gregson, with lyrics that double and triple the irony to the point you can’t tell whether he really does love the town or not, or whether the town is a haven for monsters or not. By this point in his career, he was a little more laid back than the rocker he had been, but I don’t mind as long as I can hear that velvet voice croon a catchy tune like this one.

Johnny Hodges – “Figurine” 1967 from Triple Play CD reissue. Nobody had a more swoon-worthy tone on alto sax (or arguably on any sax) than Johnny Hodges. For decades, he was a mainstay of the Duke Ellington Orchestra, but every once in a while he would go off with a bunch of fellow members and record as a leader. This elegant ballad could melt any heart within miles. The opening is other-worldly, with a strummed guitar against a heavily reverbed vibraphone line while a bass plucks a syncopated contrast and a cymbal is struck now and again. Then Hodges takes over with every member of the band offering counterpoint at various times, and eventually the reed section harmonizes together behind him. The background is constantly shifting while Hodges hugs each lyrical note of the tune. It’s all over way too fast, but there’s nothing more to be said. So, you just start the song one more time. A quiet masterpiece.

Eliza Carthy – “Like I Care” 2008 from Dreams of Breathing Underwater. Eliza Carthy is the daughter of English folk music royalty – Norma Waterson is her mother, Martin Carthy her father. I saw her play several times with her parents. Eliza isn’t quite as great a singer as her mother was, but she’s awfully darn good. Witness this delightful song from one of her more or less rock/pop forays. With a definite reggae nod in the rhythm section, and some exuberant accordion and horn parts filling up space, Carthy belts out the title chorus after some more intimate takes on the verses. “Shouting at the telly like I care!” she cries. The song seems to be about insecurity both personal and social, but the power of the song is in the sheer exuberance of the performance.

Dinah Washington – “I Won’t Cry Anymore” 1959 from What a Diff’rence a Day Makes. I acknowledge that a lot of people simply can’t stand the sweetening of background vocal harmonies so prevalent in the fifties on records by pop and even jazz singers. And many also can’t tolerate the sweeping string sections that take up space that could be used by a single horn or even a guitar filigree. But, dangit, I loved this sort of thing when I was a little kid, and I’ve come to embrace it all again in my dotage. Sure, I would rather play Dinah Washington’s earlier, jazzier material, but hearing this, I’m ready to swoon for the whole pop production style of it. Washington’s sense of time, the way she subtly shifts emphasis just off the beats, her phrasing, her ability to express the strength to say she won’t cry anymore while never letting us forget this was her one and only love who has left her – it’s all there with or without the harmonies and strings. But I really like the support of the cooing background vocals, and when the strings swell up, it emphasizes the same strength and sorrow of Washington’s singing while also pointing to a future when she really will mean what she says.