Charlie Rich – “Who Will the Next Fool Be” 1961 single available on The Original Sun Recordings. If Charlie Rich is remembered at all, he’s the Silver Fox who had those two giant country crossover hits in 1973, “Behind Closed Doors” and “The Most Beautiful Girl.” Long before that, though, he was the man Sam Phillips considered to be the most talented performer he ever worked with. To me, Rich has always sounded like the perfect melting pot of American music up until his time – he blends rockabilly, jazz, blues, gospel, and pop influences seamlessly. This particular single was a bigger hit when Bobby Bland did it, but the original is pitch perfect. Rich’s piano carries the groove and sets the harmonic changes. The drums are insistently syncopated, there are lovely pop backing vocals, and Rich sings his sad tale of being dumped as if he really is worried about the next man in line. It’s a magnificent record from one of the greatest ever.
The Searchers – “Sweets For My Sweet” 1963 from Meet the Searchers. I don’t think I knew before today this was a remake of a Drifters record from two years earlier. That record is so great I have to include a video of it, too. The song was written by Doc Pomus and Mort Shuman. The Drifters version has a full-on Latin rhythm happening (not to mention backing vocals by a group that includes Dionne and Dee Dee Warwick, Doris Troy, and Cissy Houston – talk about an all-star team). The Searchers figured out a way to combine the gist of that beat with a heavy Buddy Holly influence on the guitars and drums. I love their simpler harmony parts, and the innocence of the lead vocal of Tony Jackson. The song is a testament of pure love, and that chorus is unforgettable once you’ve heard it. In 1963, this was a number one record in the UK, just a few weeks before “She Loves You” by the Beatles. At the time, nobody knew which band would have the bigger career.
Miller – “You Can’t Roller Skate in a Buffalo Herd” 1966 available on Golden Hits. I don’t know how I acquired this single when I was 7 and it was new, but it was definitely one of my favorite songs back then. It’s also served as a background inspiration in the rest of my life. “You can be happy if you’ve a mind to. All you gotta do is put your mind to it, knuckle down, buckle down, do it, do it, do it.” Yeah, this song full of goofy images of impossible things turns out to be one of the most potent examples of self-help philosophy in pop culture. It doesn’t always work, but it’s a good thing to try when you need to remember it. Miller wrote plenty of serious songs, but it’s the novelty ones that we remember best, and for me, none were better than this one. Also, I’m old enough to remember that “You can’t drive around with a tiger in your car” is a reference to a famous TV commercial for some gasoline company I’m not quite old enough to recall clearly. They advertised about putting a tiger in your tank when you bought their fuel. The rest of the song is probably purely from Miller’s imagination, though the verse about how “you can’t change a film with a kid on your back” just might refer to his own experience with his child and a camera.
Irving Mills & His Hotsy Totsy Gang with Bill Robinson – “Ain’t Misbehavin’” 1929 available on Early Ellington. Bill Robinson is famous today because of the Jerry Jeff Walker song “Mr. Bojangles.” But back in the 1920s and 30s, he was known as the greatest tap dancer in the world. You may have seen him dancing with Shirley Temple in some of her movies, if you’re old enough to have seen any Shirley Temple films. This record was made the day after the Stock Market reached it’s peak just a few weeks before the crash which started the Great Depression. So, when the singer says, “I want to know, is everybody happy?” it’s probably the last time many people could answer yes. Irving Mills was a music publisher who worked a lot with Duke Ellington – and apparently ripped him off enough to have them split up ten years after this record. He released a series of records under this band name featuring various musicians who happened to be in town, and here he decided to let Bojangles Robinson loose in front of a microphone to tap some heavily syncopated rhythms as the star attraction on this Fats Waller tune. I’m not sure who the singer is, but he’s effective enough, and the soloists are fine, too. But the joy is in the dancing feet. (You can find less scratchy versions of this record, and the CD remaster is very good, but for this video, I choose an original for effect.)
Son House – “Yonder Comes My Mother” 1965 from Father of the Delta Blues: The Complete 1965 Sessions. I don’t know if he was the literal creator of Delta blues, but he was there in the early days, and he was magnificent. He also lived long enough to be rediscovered in the 60s, and to record with better fidelity (albeit with a little loss in his vocal prowess). “Yonder Comes My Mother” had been in his repertoire for a while – I’ve heard a version wherein he actually sings the title line, and tells us about reuniting with his mother come the Judgement Day. But this version, fueled by his gracefully forceful slide on what I assume from the sound is a National steel guitar, is a more generic discussion of showing up in Heaven. There’s a mountain, and there is a separation of nations (a point I don’t quite understand, so maybe it’s supposed to be ending such a separation?), and everything is gonna be good. It’s quite a lovely little record.
ESSO gasoline...put a tiger...