SHG: Rolling Stones: 19th Nervous Breakdown

The Rolling Stones: “19th Nervous Breakdown”
Entered the chart on: 3/5/66
Peaked on: 3/19/66
Weeks at #2: 3
Song at #1: “The Ballad of the Green Berets” by Ssgt. Barry Sadler

So we come at last to the “bad boys” of the British Invasion. Which is a bit silly, if you ask me; the Beatles weren’t exactly saints. That said, it’s obvious the Stones’ music was a lot more raunchy, with darker lyrical undertones. There weren’t any smooth vocal harmonies here, no George Martin sweetening, just Mick Jagger’s snarling vocals and Keith Richards’ violent guitar. You could definitely see their appeal as something your Perry Como/Joni James-loving parents were guaranteed to hate.

This isn’t one of the first songs to come to mind when I think of them, but it’s not exactly “obscure” these days (In fact, I’m pretty sure I heard it on the radio within the past two weeks).



Well, Nobel has gone on to canonize Bob Dylan for his lyrical skills, so let’s use this little review to shine the spotlight on Mick Jagger. Yes, it’s probably “Like a Rolling Stone” that opened doors for songs like this, because this is far from the “love and loss” lyrics that had been part and parcel of popular music heretofore. Hell, even the early Beatles sides were essentially love songs. Here we have something different: an analysis of a young woman who’s lost her mind, and how she got there.

Which begs the question: why nineteenth nervous breakdown? Presumably because it was attention-getting, euphonious and fit the rhythm of the song. As near as I can tell, the hapless subject of the song’s lyrics is spoiled by her wealthy but neglectful parents, and turns to recreational drugs which only makes matters worse. So...not exactly painting a rosy picture, then.

Musically, the highlight is—as it so frequently is with Stones songs—Keith Richards’ dazzling lead guitar work. This isn’t quite the firestorm of that harsh, broken-speaker beehive buzz found on “Satisfaction,” but this was still harder and edgier guitarwork than people were accustomed to hearing at the time. Soon the likes of Jimi Hendrix, Eric Clapton and Jimmy Page would descend onto the scene and ear-bleeding guitar timbres would become the norm. Let it be noted that Keith, for better or worse, got there first.

I don’t know if this is my favorite Stones song of this era, but listening to it again, I realize it’s not only good, but really first-rate! Well done, guys!

Rating: 5

SHG: Herman's Hermits: "Can't You Hear My Heartbeat"

Herman’s Hermits: “Can’t You Hear My Heartbeat”
Entered the chart on: 2/20/65
Peaked on: 3/27/65
Weeks at #2: 2
Song at #1: “Stop! In the Name of Love” by the Supremes

Let me tell you the story of Goldie and the Gingerbreads, the first “girl group” to play their own instruments. Goldie (vocals and harmonica), Carole (guitar), Margo (organ) and Ginger (drums), four girls from New York who briefly relocated to London in search of fame and fortune.

It sounds like I’m off on a wild tangent to start this review but stick with me. I swear this connects.

You see, in 1964, the girls’ management offered them a tune called “Can’t You Hear My Heartbeat.” Carole hated it and dismissed it as “bubblegum [expletive],” disgusted that it veered so far from their usual style (imagine a distaff version of the Young Rascals). But Goldie said they had to do it because management had the final say, blah blah blah. The result: a top 40 hit in the UK, television appearances, and so on and so forth.

Meanwhile, over on our side of the pond, Beatlemania had spurred a wave of Anglophilia the likes of which had never been equalled. So it makes sense that MGM, eager to cash in, rush-released a cover version by a group of London pretty boys known as Herman’s Hermits to the US market. Goldie and her cohorts were pissed off. Sure, they didn’t like the song, but they felt it was their song. To be cheated out of a hit in their home country had to be frustrating.

I imagine it wouldn’t have been so bad had the artists doing the song were the actual Beatles or something, as opposed to a gaggle of Bobby Rydells with Cockney accents. Obviously, a manufactured group selected for their non-threatening, boyish looks. Even if their lead singer looks like Bobby Brady. Seriously, have you ever seen Peter Noone and Mike Lookinland in the same room together?



Well, I do like the guitar intro to this one, and it has a nice beat to it. Can’t compare to the beat on “Have I the Right” by the Honeycombs, though. And I’ll always be comparing this to the Gingerbreads’ original. Margo’s swinging Hammond organ and Goldie’s raspy, undeniably rock-inflected voice give a little bit of a flair to what’s otherwise a pretty weak song.

You really don’t get any of that with this version. Peter Noone and co. sing fine, technically, but they’re just so twee. This rendition just winds up pretty flat and empty in the end.

And, as previously stated, it was never all that great a song to begin with.

Rating: 2

SHG: The Zombies: "She's Not There"

The Zombies: “She’s Not There” Entered the chart on: 11/7/64 Peaked on: 12/12/64 Weeks at #2: 1 Song at #1: “Mr. Lonely” by Bobby Vinton

It’s funny, I was looking forward to 1964 so much. That was before I examined the year more closely. After that first rush of Beatlemania, it’s kind of a roller-coaster ride, alternating classics and crap. At least we end on a high.

Here at the end of the year we get another British Invasion act. The Zombies were probably the most musically sophisticated of those bands from the first wave of the British Invasion, thanks to the one-two punch of Rod Argent’s jazzy organ playing and the evocative, smoky vocals of Colin Blunstone. It’s odd, it took me a while to appreciate Blunstone’s voice, and via two cover versions from his post-Zombies years—his 1972 chamber-pop rendition of Denny Laine’s “Say You Don’t Mind” and a 1981 rendition of Jimmy Ruffin’s “What Becomes of the Broken-Hearted?*”

While researching this feature, I was surprised to learn how few hits the Zombies scored, a grand total of three top ten hits, and that’s it. Meanwhile, the Dave Clark Five charted 17 top 40 hits between 1964 and 1967, all of which you most assuredly have forgotten (I know I have). Life can be so unfair (I mean, just look at what’s in the #1 spot this week! Really, people?). I suppose it’s better than in their native land, though, where this was their only top 40 entry, peaking at #12. Santana’s cover (#11) was more successful over there, as were both Blunstone and Argent in their post-Zombies careers.

Needless to say, this is one of those songs I’ve been eager to review, so let’s not carry on dilly-dallying...



Man, this band was super-tight! The way Argent’s electric piano meshes with Hugh Grundy’s drums over the instrumental intro is not something you hear unless a band really has it together! And as much as I love Blunstone’s singing—seriously, I could listen to his voice all day—the harmonies on this are to die for. I’m assuming that’s Argent and bass player Chris White on backing vocals on this. And I like the way everyone gets their moment in the spotlight, White with the little bass riff leading into the second verse, Argent with the crazy electric piano solo in the middle eight.

Lyrically, this song was way ahead of its time. I was expecting to do lots of these sorts of songs about obsessive love/lust in the early “new wave” era (circa 1979-81), not at the dawn of the British Invasion. The tone of Blunstone’s voice over the refrain really sells the fanatical tone of the lyric. And I have to say, there’s sort of a subtext to this. On the surface, it’s a song about an unfaithful woman that lied about it, and dumped the protagonist in a cruel and uncaring fashion. Dig deeper, and you’ll get to that wild chorus, where the protagonist reveals his crazy obsession with this woman.

That’s why I believe this is a lust song, not a love song. These two were making some steamy, hot love in the past, and he misses it. Needs it, like a junkie looking for a fix. But she’s not there.

That’s my story, and I’m sticking to it.

Rating: 5

*the latter is actually a collaboration with ex-National Health keyboardist Dave Stewart. Blunstone was standing in for Stewart’s usual vocal collaborator, Canterbury folk siren Barbara Gaskin.

SHG: The Beatles: "Do You Want to Know a Secret?"

The Beatles: “Do You Want to Know a Secret”
Entered the chart on: 4/11/64
Peaked on: 5/9/64
Weeks at #2: 1
Song at #1: “Hello Dolly” by Louis Armstrong

Oh look, the top two on my negative ninth birthday!

You see, every once in a while, the Beatles thought they ought to throw George a bone and give him a substandard tune to sing, something not good enough for #1, but OK for #2. When I was starting out with my pop music charts exploration (i.e.: after acquiring my first copy of the Whitburn book), I noticed this was one of the Beatles early hits I had not heard. I originally hypothesized they couldn’t all be winners, and most albums need their filler. But are there hidden depths here that I missed on first listening? Let’s find out...

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I have to admit, that ringing guitar intro is beautiful. George Martin’s doing, I imagine. I’m surprised how much George (Harrison, not Martin) is flying solo on this tune. Not until we get to the second refrain do we get Paul and John offering reverbed “doo-wah-doo” backing harmonies. There’s also some unidentified cracking percussion instrument (a “whip”?) turning up about half-way through, during the bridge. I imagine that’s also George Martin’s doing.

Well, I can certainly appreciate the craft that went into this, but I’m still not really feeling it. I reiterate: they can’t all be winners. George Martin does a lovely job with the production, making it sleek and shiny as a chrome fender but the song itself? Meh. Boilerplate Beatles.

Rating: 3

SHG: The Beatles: "Twist and Shout"

The Beatles: “Twist and Shout”
Entered the chart on: 3/21/64
Peaked on: 4/4/64
Weeks at #2: 4
Song at #1: “Can’t Buy Me Love” by the Beatles

The Beatles’ debut appearance on the Ed Sullivan Show created a craze heretofore unseen in popular music. Not even Elvis Presley’s iconic debut caused such a commotion. Of course, a big part of the Beatles’ absolute dominance of the pop charts has to do with the backlog of material they’d accrued; they may have debuted with their then-current single, “I Wanna Hold Your Hand,” but they had already been a “thing” in the UK since ’62.

Obviously, the pop music industry, being then as now a den of crass opportunists, rushed to fill the void. Numerous labels—namely Capitol, Swan, Vee-Jay, Tollie* and Atco—all wound up releasing Beatles singles at once. On top of that, MGM blew the dust off of one of the recordings by lounge singer Tony Sheridan featuring the Beatles as the backing band (a rendition of the moldy oldie “My Bonnie”) and that, likewise, charted during this period.

Not wishing to be left out, those clowns at London International assembled a group of girls dubbed the Carefrees, exhumed “We Love You Conrad” from the [stifles laughter] “rock” musical Bye Bye Birdie and thanks to the magic of Mad Libs™ style name substitution, released the result as “We Love You Beatles.” This too hit the charts, despite being utterly worthless.

With all that said, it’s odd that the first Beatles song I should review is a cover, albeit a beloved one. Little known, the Isley Brothers’ version on which the Beatles so obviously based their version is not the original. That honor goes to the Top Notes, whose version was produced by none other than Phil Spector. I have not heard that version, so I need to educate myself...

I have to tell you, after being familiar with later versions, hearing the Top Notes version is...weird. It has a completely different feel, despite being full of the rock energy that the later versions also have. Reportedly, Bert Berns (who co-wrote the song with Bill “Righteous Brothers” Medley) hated what Spector did with his tune, so he helmed the Isley Brothers version himself.

And with all that said, let us finally get round to the serious business of examining Beatlemania in action.

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John Lennon owns this version. His voice on this is kind of like a blown-out speaker, and it totally works for the tune, riding over the top of his and George’s rubber-band-y guitars. And we of course get Paul McCartney’s “woo” in the background, on loan from Little Richard (a fact Little Richard would be glad to point out to you, whether you asked him to do so or not). The harmonized “aahs,” the crack of Ringo’s drums, John’s cat-like scream near the end, it’s all just so perfect.

You really get what a revelation the Beatles must have been listening to this, and you only really understand it when doing a feature like the one I’ve been doing. With a few exceptions (see: Bobby Lewis’ “Tossin’ and Turnin’”) “black music” began going in a direction other than rock & roll, and there were few white artists still doing an effective job of it. We’ve seen Dion and the Kingsmen and, of course, Elvis**, but little in the way of real rock & roll outside of that. To have four kids with funny haircuts from Liverpool going for the spirit of Buddy Holly and absolutely nailing it must have been magical.

Pop music would never be the same. And I mean that in the best way possible.

Rating: 5

*All right, Tollie was a subsidiary of Vee-Jay, albeit one that seemed to exist solely to capitalize on the Beatles success. That’s not strictly true, but it sure feels like it. Incidentally, one of the last singles released by Tollie was Jimmy Cross’ infamous “I Want My Baby Back.”
**Well, Roy Orbison and Gene Pitney had some fine uptempo rockers as well, but we only covered their ballads here at Second Hand Goods.

SHG: Kenny Ball: "Midnight in Moscow"

Kenny Ball & His Jazzmen: “Midnight in Moscow”
Entered the chart on: 2/17/62
Peaked on: 3/17/62
Weeks at #2: 1
Song at #1: “Hey! Baby” by Bruce Channel

Oh, honestly! Were we really so starved for talent over here that we had to import our Dixieland jazz from across the Atlantic Ocean? Actually, I do believe Kenny is in fact the first British act we’ve covered here at Second Hand Goods (at least directly, there was David Rose conducting the orchestra for Connie Francis on “My Happiness”).

This is another record from my parents’ collection. I was obsessed by this song as a kid, though I can’t say particularly why. Something about it intrigued and fascinated the junior version of me. Let’s see if it holds up.



All right, for those following along at home and wondering why this is called “Midnight in Moscow,” it’s adapted from an old Russian folk song. And I was absolutely not kidding about the Dixieland jazz thing. The accompaniment is drums and a freaking banjo! The rest is horns, horns, horns! Kenny and his trumpet lead the charge but we also get a muted trombone (which gets a solo and a raunchy glissando in the final head repeat, which has someone in the band yelling with delight!) and some wailing clarinet.

I have to say, for whatever reason, this still does it for me. It sounds utterly bizarre amidst all the R&B, early rock and dance craze records that surrounded it, and maybe that’s what appeals to me so much. Whatever, it’s fun, and I make no apologies for my enjoyment.

Rating: 5