5 Songs Friday, May 23, 2025

Feeling blues and country this week with a little blue-eyed soul

The Walker Brothers – “Everything’s Gonna Be Alright” 1966 from The Sun Ain’t Gonna Shine Anymore. I first heard of Scott Walker in the early 80s when Julian Cope of The Teardrop Explodes was going on about his godlike genius. Once I actually heard his solo material, I figured this was an opinion formed as part of Cope’s extensive acid use . But eventually, I heard the Walker Brothers, and while genius is too strong a word, I was delighted to discover sort of a junior version of the Righteous Brothers. (Apparently in California at the time, producers figured having fake brothers in a group was a marketable idea – later on, the Ramones ran with it.) I can’t figure out the origins of this song – LyricFind claims it’s written by Burt Bacharach and Hal David along with two other guys, but I can’t find any corroboration of this. It sounds like a rewrite of “Shake and Fingerpop” by Junior Walker and the All Stars. Lyrically, however, it’s about a shotgun wedding as the brothers decide it’s gonna be alright to be married even under these circumstances. A little goofy, but highly enjoyable.

Charlie Rich – “There Won’t Be Anymore” 1966 from Big Boss Man! Recorded in 1964, released in 1966 on an album, and then somehow a huge hit in 1974. Now I remember the brief time of Rich’s ascension to the pop charts, but I don’t remember this follow-up to “The Most Beautiful Girl in the World” and “Behind Closed Doors.” It’s not in the same style as those two songs – for one thing, this doesn’t celebrate love or sex; it firmly states there won’t be any more communication between these lovers. The Chet Atkins production, for all its slickness, has a heavier r&b groove to it than the Billy Sherrill production of the 70s. The smooth saxophone intro sets it apart from most country songs. Rich is, as always, in complete control of the material. He slides down from above the music with “Don’t wait for the postman” and I’m hooked right away. I think I’ve mentioned it before, he was one of the greatest singers of his time, and a damn fine songwriter to boot.

Merle Haggard – “Wake Up” 1980 from The Way I Am. Let’s talk about the first 45 seconds. There’s a quick light run across tom toms followed by a kick drum, setting a funereal march pattern as acoustic guitars strum to give us the key of the song. A fiddle lays down the melody while strings hover in the background. Then a typical late 70s saxophone takes over and the introduction concludes with sax, fiddle, and steel guitar playing together. Now Merle Haggard is ready to offer his sad tale. “Wake up, don’t just lay there like cold granite stone,” he sings as the melody rises and he holds the highest note on “cold” and won’t let go of the last note on “stone.” What’s going on? Is somebody dead? “Wake up, we’re too close to be alone.” More matter of fact, less emotion. “Wake up and please darling, hold me if you would.” The ache in the word “darling” tells us it’s love that’s died. “Don’t just lay there like you’ve gone away for good.” He’s desperate, he can’t believe this is happening, he sings it like he’s iiving in a country song. Merle Haggard wrote this song and sings it in a way that makes us feel the gut punch of losing the one he loves. It’s a masterful record that is often ignored merely because Haggard recorded too many great things for us to remember all of them.

Blind Lemon Jefferson – “Gone Dead on You Blues” 1928 single available on King of the Country Blues. This song is in conversation with the Charlie Rich record above, only here the singer actually gets mail telling him his lover has died, and he desperately tries to call her doctor to get confirmation. Jefferson refers to her as his “pig meat mama,” and that phrase is meant to be complimentary. I can’t find any clarity on the term, but there is a reference in a Toni Morrison novel that indicates it’s a measure of desirability. Anyway, the song is much more about Jefferson’s efforts to either get to her before she dies or to contact the doctor to find out what’s going on. And that doctor is a piece of work. The last line of the song is “Your girl ain’t dyin’ but she’s done gone dead on you.” Chilling. And it’s made more so by the combination of Jefferson’s evocative, mournfully worried vocal approach and the ringing guitar licks he drops after many lines of the song. I don’t know any other versions of this song, but it strikes me as one of Jefferson’s best.

Little Brother Montgomery – “Cow Cow Blues” 1954 single available on After Hours Blues. “Cow Cow Blues” was something like two decades old when Little Brother Montgomery recorded this take on Cow Cow Davenport’s signature song. Though solo piano and vocal blues records were becoming rare in the marketplace by the mid-50s, this one sounds vigorous enough to stand up to the electric blues bands coming out of the Chess studios at the time. Montgomery was a fine singer with a heavy pounding left hand and a lightly dancing right hand on the piano. That combination – which sounds a little like a northern variation on what Professor Longhair was doing down in New Orleans – makes for a highly entertaining and danceable record. “Cow Cow Blues” is another of those songs where the singer’s baby has left him on a train, but she seems to come back from Cincinnati before this one is done. No wonder he sounds so happy.