SHG: Andy Williams: "Can't Get Used to Losing You"

Andy Williams: “Can’t Get Used to Losing You”
Entered the chart on: 3/23/63
Peaked on: 4/13/63
Weeks at #2: 4
Songs at #1: “He’s So Fine” by the Chiffons and “I Will Follow Him” by Peggy March

It’s 1963, and we’re only now getting to Andy Williams? Have we hit a time-warp?

People have described Perry Como as being “like your dad singing,” well, that’s precisely how Andy Williams strikes me. Well, perhaps not my dad specifically, he was a terrible singer. But somebody’s dad. And at least Perry Como injected some personality into his singing, and had his Italian heritage to draw upon. All Andy had was a naturally pitch-controlled voice and a collection of conservative sweater vests. He was like the Ward Cleaver of popular music.

While all the other 50s relics kind of faded away, Andy kept on racking up hits into the early 70s. For some reason, his brand of easy listening balladry resonated with people enough to keep buying his records despite the fact that Frank Sinatra he was not. Well, hipsters have glommed onto him a bit on account of the scandalous behavior of his one-time wife, questionably talented chanteuse Claudine Longet. But let us not forget: this is the same man who unleashed the Osmond family on the world.

And yet, I can never count anyone out on this feature. I promised to keep an open mind and I have done so (believe me, I’ll never make fun of Patti Page ever again). And this tune was written by Doc Pomus and Mort Shuman, so it must have something going for it. Let’s hope so...



Well, this is more uptempo than I expected. I was anticipating a slushy ballad, but was met with percussive guitar stabs. I guess technically this is a ballad, but it’s awfully uptempo for a song about a guy having trouble dealing with lost love. There’s strings and choir there, but they’re fairly muted and low key. It’s mainly about that guitar and percussion.

The production makes the most of Andy’s voice, double-tracking so he’s harmonizing with himself. He does need some beef there because we’re clearly not going to get a Tony Bennett-level performance out of him, so we need something to keep the listener’s interest.

So, as it turns out, Andy is (rather predictably) the least interesting part of this tune. But it is, nonetheless, interesting. Kudos to producer Robert Mersey for bringing out the best in this record.

Rating: 3

SHG: Nat "King" Cole: "Ramblin' Rose"

Nat “King” Cole: “Ramblin’ Rose”
Entered the chart on: 8/18/62
Peaked on: 9/22/62
Weeks at #2: 2
Song at #1: “Sherry” by the Four Seasons

For those of you who have been following Second Hand Goods from the very beginning, you’ll remember that I have a history with Nat “King” Cole. Namely, that he was the first recipient of a five-star award on this feature, and with a song I’d never even heard before: the exquisite ballad “A Blossom Fell.”

Full disclosure time: I’ve never heard this before, either, his last top 5 entry before his tragic death in 1965. To be fair, most of his best-known, most enduring hits (“Unforgettable,” “Mona Lisa” et al) pre-date the rock era. So it’s not inconceivable that I’ve never heard this before: until starting this feature, I’d never heard any song of his newer than 1954. After “A Blossom Fell,” I have high hopes for this one. Don’t let me down, Nat...



You know, I think I might have been mistaken. This sounds awfully familiar. I must have heard this somewhere at some point. I looked at the songwriting credit and thought, “This was written by the Sherman Brothers?” Well, yes and no. It was written by a pair of brothers with the surname Sherman, but not those Sherman Brothers. Got that?

It’s hard not to bop your head along to this. It’s got a bouncy rhythm that carries you along with it, with the guitar leading the way. It sounds awfully old-school for 1962, but then it’s Nat, so would you expect any less? It’s obvious he’d been smoking like a chimney at this point, but I could still listen to that voice of his all day long.

In a way, this is is Nat’s way of keeping up with the Joneses. Or at least the Brook Bentons (he pilfered his musical director, Belford Hendricks) and the Ray Charleses (the orchestration with the massive mixed-voice choir seems to be on loan from “I Can’t Stop Loving You”). This one’s all about that infectious singalong refrain. Nat, being an old pro, knows this, and before the final chorus repeat commands, “One more time, everybody!”

Admit it, you were singing along, too.

Rating: 4

SHG: Della Reese: "Don't You Know?"

Della Reese: “Don’t You Know”
Entered the chart on: 10/5/1959
Peaked on: 11/30/1959
Weeks at #2: 1
Song at #1: “Mack the Knife” by Bobby Darin

And we end the 50s as we began it: with a song I’ve never heard before.

I know Della of course, but as an actress, not a singer. She was part of my childhood, appearing on the now-rarely-seen Chico and the Man and guest-starring frequently on Sanford and Son, not to mention a ton of other TV shows.

Reading up on this tune has been interesting to say the least. Adapted from an aria from Puccini’s La bohème, you say? I’m intrigued! That would make this the first pop music adaptation of a classical piece to appear on this feature. I thought I would need to wait for a certain tune from the mid-60s for that! Oh, you’ll see!



Whoa! That’s the most forceful orchestration I’ve heard on this feature in a while! I know “There Goes My Baby” has a string orchestration, too, but this string section doesn’t f$&% around! The single crows “A Hugo & Luigi Production,” so I guess they’re responsible for the screaming strings, bombastic brass and pounding tympani. There’s nothing subtle about this.

In all, this is a throwback to the pre-rock sound from before. It really sits oddly among all those rock & roll records, I have to say. And her voice is powerful—damn, it would just about have to be to compete with that blaring orchestra—but it certainly has nothing to do with rock or R&B. Her voice is loaded with melodrama, and reminds me of divas from across the pond like Shirley Bassey and Dorothy Squires. I can understand this being a hit over in the UK more than here.

That said, you really have to appreciate the craftsmanship that went into this, Della’s singing ability, and the power of her voice. Majestic is the word for this one.

Rating: 4

SHG: Paul Anka: "Put Your Head on My Shoulder"

Paul Anka: “Put Your Head on My Shoulder”
Entered the chart on: 9/14/1959
Peaked on: 10/5/1959
Weeks at #2: 3
Song at #1: “Mack the Knife” by Bobby Darin

I’ve been dealing out a lot of fours and fives in this series of late. I keep waiting for the other shoe to drop.

Ladies and gentlemen, that day has arrived.

You see, I knew I’d have to talk about the “teen idols” sooner or later. Tommy Sands was just the tip of the iceberg. That Frankie Avalon tune sitting in the top spot during the Coasters’ entry was the sword of Damocles hanging over this feature until now. 1959 was the year the dam burst and the opportunists flooded the market with a bunch of non-threatening pretty boys designed to make teen girls swoon. In general, they had nothing to do with rock & roll; more a throwback to the old crooner days, minus the quality control. Many of them (I’m looking at you, Fabian) couldn’t even sing; it was all faked by a laborious technique of “punching” in every note and hoping he’d hit it right eventually. Being the producer and/or engineer of one of these sessions must have been a thankless task.

And then we have Canadian import Paul Anka. Paul had a leg-up on the competition in that he could play the piano and wrote his own material. Mind you, that didn’t mean that material was any good. This was the man, after all, that would bring us “You’re Having My Baby,” one of the most cringe-worthy MOR horrors the 70s ever wrought. And yes, that song hit #1. The man has a lot to answer for.



O sweet Zeus, make it stop! The tremolo guitar, the angelic female backing vocals, Anka’s overwrought voice, the cheesy punching of the word “baby,” it’s all too much. He’s certainly no Fats Domino at the ivories, either, his playing, apart from a flamboyant glissando leading into the Eurovision-style key-change at the end, it’s all steady “plink plink plink” with no variation from beginning to end. Before, I was thinking, “well, at least it’s one of his more tolerable songs.” I was wrong. This is worse than I had remembered. Don’t make yourself suffer like I did. Rating: 0

SHG: The Impalas: "Sorry (I Ran All the Way Home)"

The Impalas: “Sorry (I Ran All the Way Home)”
Entered the chart on: 4/13/1959
Peaked on: 5/11/1959
Weeks at #2: 2
Songs at #1: “The Happy Organ” by Dave “Baby” Cortez and “Kansas City” by Wilbert Harrison

Another one from my parents’ record collection! And I think this is the first one from the consolidated chart to be stuck at #2 behind two different #1 hits. The single (on MGM’s short-lived Cub subsidiary) “helpfully” contains the annotation “With Vocal Accompaniment.” Thanks for that, Cub, but aren’t the Impalas a vocal group? Despite having spun this on my crappy old GE Show ’n Tell record player (I now call it the Record Killer™) numerous times, I’m having difficulty remembering it clearly. Good sign or bad sign?



You can put the Impalas in the same box as the Crests in that they’re another multi-racial vocal group from Brooklyn. I wouldn’t put this on the same level as “Sixteen Candles,” which was simply stunning on every level from Johnny Maestro’s vocal on down. But this is a solid slab of peak-period doo-wop. Joe “Speedo” Frazier does a more than credible job singing lead, his voice having a youthful, innocent tone that has a touch of boyish irreverence to it (the repeated “Uh-oh!”). The song comes close to novelty song status without ever crossing the border.

Thanks to Leroy Holmes and his orchestra, this one has a fuller, more produced sound than a lot of rock & roll tunes of its era. And I think this might be the first trombone solo we’ve covered at Second Hand Goods since “A Blossom Fell” way back in ’55.

So, a good tune, indicative of its era, without being a classic. Worth listening to.

Rating: 4

SHG: The Crests: "Sixteen Candles"

The Crests: “Sixteen Candles”
Entered the chart on: 12/22/1958
Peaked on: 2/9/1959
Weeks at #2: 2
Song at #1: “Stagger Lee” by Lloyd Price

More diner music. I can’t help but have images of waitresses in old-fashioned car-hop outfits bearing platters of patty melts and chocolate malts while this plays on an old Wurlitzer jukebox. Well, let’s refresh our collective memories of this evergreen:



I forgot about the “Happy birthday, baby” intro. And how did I never know that this was an interracial group? And that their one female member was the sister of Luther Vandross? All I knew was that their powerhouse lead tenor was one Johnny Maestro (né Mastrangelo).

Yes, it’s pretty obvious these folks had been listening to lots of the Platters. Maestro is no Tony Williams clone, he puts his own stamp on this recording with his impassioned delivery. Not sure who was the arranger for this session, but he sure knew his onions. Like the Connie Francis tune I covered a couple of reviews ago, it has a very understated arrangement, with everything as support to Maestro’s spectacular lead. The highlight of the backing vocals is bass singer J. T. Carter, who was the one who initially formed the group.

In spite of this staggering success, they weren’t able to follow it up effectively. They managed a couple of top 20 follow-up entries (if you know any other Crests song, “Step by Step” is probably it) but that was about it. Maestro later resurfaced as the lead singer of the Brooklyn Bridge, who had a top 10 hit in 1969 with “Worst That Could Happen.” Based on this, they deserved a rather better legacy.

Much, much better than I had remembered. Superbly done!

Rating: 5

SHG: Connie Francis: "My Happiness"

Connie Francis “My Happiness” Entered the chart on: 12/15/1958 Peaked on: 1/19/1959 Weeks at #2: 2 weeks Song at #1: “Smoke Gets in Your Eyes” by the Platters

Ah yes, Connie Francis. Until the 1990s, she was the most successful female soloist of the rock era. Bigger than Diana Ross. Bigger than Barbara Streisand. Bigger than Donna Summer. Bigger than Madonna.

By 1979, she was represented in the Rolling Stone Record Guide by a dismissive two-sentence review for a single greatest-hits package which received a rating of a bullet (zero stars). What happened for her to suddenly deserve such scorn?

Well, I suppose one thing might be Rolling Stones’ rock & roll attitude. Anything that smacked of artificiality, commerciality or bandwagon-jumping had them turning up their noses. The key to Connie Francis’ smash success was only partly due to her phenomenal, sorrow-laden singing voice.

Here lies the difference between her and the likes of Cathy Carr. While Cathy was struggling at Fraternity and a succession of other small, regional labels without the budget for A&R, Connie was being aggressively marketed to any potential artist willing to listen at MGM, who threw a ton of money at their investment.

Part of the result of this was that Connie was incredibly overworked. All her 50s and 60s hits were produced at mammoth days-long recording sessions. So the sorrow in her voice was probably not an act. I think it may have partly been fatigue*, which is why she sounded sad even on songs that didn’t call for it (Andrea Martin spoofed this on the fake record ad for 20 Depressing Hits by Connie Franklin [sic]). And MGM’s marketing towards all ages and ethnicities bordered on the crass (a sampling of Connie’s discography: Christmas With Connie, Rock ‘n’ Roll Million Sellers, Connie Francis Sings Jewish Favorites, Country Music Connie Style, Sings “Never On Sunday” and Other Title Songs From Motion Pictures, etc.).

While it’s true that commercial success is not a guarantee of artistic quality, especially considering the incredible volume of material that was churned out in such a short space of time, it’s obvious Connie could sing. She didn’t always get the grade A material her voice deserved, but then, that’s true of the 90s female soloists that supplanted her (believe me, we’ll get to them in time).

Enough stalling, let’s review this thing:



Good call on orchestrator David Rose (later of “The Stripper” fame) for knowing his bread-and-butter, giving Connie an a’cappella intro for her to sing. They’re also taking a a tip from Les Paul & Mary Ford, stunningly double-tracking her voice.

I’m really struck how wonderfully this is arranged. It builds to a crescendo, plinking piano and subtle saxophone rising out of the a’cappella intro, with the strings coming in very gradually and the choir only entering during the final verse. And none of it competes with Connie’s voice. Rose really knew his stuff!

What I was talking about earlier about Connie taking a happy song and making it sad kind of applies here, but there’s more to it than that. Unlike a lot of her later material, I think this song was selected specifically because it spotlighted her voice, and her personality, very well. The title is ironic, the narrator is actually sad because her lover is gone, and wants “[her] happiness” to return. Connie is a natural for this kind of tune.

Really, much, much better than I was expecting.

Rating: 4

*it’s since come out of the woodwork that Connie was suffering from bipolar disorder, which further explains this tendency, and suddenly turns that SCTV skit into a bit of a Funny Aneurysm Moment.

SHG: The Chordettes: "Lollipop"

The Chordettes: “Lollipop”
Entered the chart on: 3/10/58
Peaked on: 3/31/58
Weeks at #2: 2 weeks
Songs at #1: “Tequila” by the Champs and “Catch a Falling Star” by Perry Como

Does it count as “whitewashing” if only half of the original artists were black?

Ronald and Ruby, a duo of a black man and a white woman, were the original performers of “Lollipop.” Ruby was actually the song’s co-writer, Beverly Ross, who at the urging of her mother didn’t use her real name for the recording. They also didn’t do any promotion on TV for the song, which is why it stalled at #20, while the Chordettes’ rendition sailed to #2.

Anyway, if you’d told me Ronald and Ruby were two women, I’d be hard-pressed to negate that claim, as Ronald has a pretty high voice on the original recording. Out of sheer curiosity, I also checked out the cover by the English family group the Mudlarks, and it is an odd duck indeed*, being rather gender-confused, as the two Mudlark brothers give the “I call him” line to their sister to deliver solo.

As for the Chordettes, could there be a more quintessentially “fifties” female vocal group? Possibly the McGuire Sisters, but “Mister Sandman” is used to evoke the era of poodle skirts and malt shops way, way more often with “Sincerely,” and they weren’t whitewashing an R&B act’s hit, so I’m sticking with the Chordettes.



Well, it’s obvious why this version was the big hit. They have the “pop” effect after the refrain! And the wordless guest spot by the nameless bass singer. I tend to be more forgiving of this squeaky-clean vocal harmony pop when delivered by female groups. Does that make me sexist? Reverse sexist? Anyway, I’m enjoying this. Maybe because I’m picturing Jasper from The Simpsons delivering it while wearing a Little Lord Fauntleroy outfit and having his teeth fall out when he tries to do the “pop.”

The song is, of course, extremely inane, but I forgive it because it’s fun. I can forgive inanity if it’s fun and not annoying. And if there was effort put into it. It’s obvious that effort was put into every aspect of this, from the songwriting on down to the vocal arrangement and the harmonies, etc. And it shows.

Rating: 4

*No idea if he was actually involved, but Joe Meek is very much in evidence on the Mudlarks’ version, at least at the start of the recording, where it sounds like a spaceship landing!

SHG: The Four Preps: "26 Miles (Santa Catalina)"

The Four Preps: “26 Miles (Santa Catalina)”
Entered the chart on: 1/20/1958
Peaked on: 3/10/1958
Weeks at #2: 3 weeks
Songs at #1: “Get a Job” by the Silhouettes and “Tequila” by the Champs

That name isn’t a joke. Apparently, these guys formed a singing group at prep school. So...more squeaky clean white boys singing harmony. It seems I have heard this song before, but I’m not conjuring up any memory of the actual melody. I do know that it’s about taking the ferry to Santa Catalina, as the parenthetical subtitle helpfully informs us. On the other hand, David Sommerville (a.k.a. David Troy) of the Diamonds was later a member. And this was a self-penned number by two of the group members. So there’s two things in its favor right off the bat. I promised to be open-minded during this series...



Anyone else thinking The Addams Family when hearing that guitar intro? The whistling also gives this a bit of a mysterious air to it. Vocally, I’m having a hard time from separating this from other Wonder bread vocal harmony groups like the Four Lads and the Crew-Cuts. The song’s protagonist claims he’s looking for romance in Santa Catalina, but it’s not clear if he means that his sweetie lives there, or if he just plans on hitting on beach bunnies until one consents to make out with him. I’m guessing the latter, considering the line about “island pearls.”

Eh...I’m kind of running out of things to say about this. It’s OK for what it is, I guess, but the exotic arrangement kind of strikes me as more memorable than the song itself. Cute, but insubstantial.

Rating: 2

SHG: Frank Sinatra: "All the Way"

Frank Sinatra: “All the Way”
Entered the chart on: 10/28/1957
Peaked on: 1/6/1958
Weeks at #2: 1 week
Song at #1: “At the Hop” by Danny & the Juniors

Frank Sinatra is an artist that is hard to be impartial about.

I know some who absolutely hate him (Hello, Al!). I know others who think he is an utterly brilliant song stylist. Me? I think a lot of the former camp are letting perceptions of Frank Sinatra the person get in the way of Frank Sinatra the artist. Sort of how people hate Richard Wagner because he’s such a horrible person, rather than because he makes bad music (which he didn’t).

To be fair, by the time the 60s rolled round, Sinatra had rather become a grotesque caricature of himself, a cantankerous, foul-mouthed, hard-drinking lout who’d rather spend time carousing with his drinking buddies, romancing hot young starlets and pushing his considerably less-talented offspring into the spotlight than polishing his vocal instrument. His lackadasical performance on the fluke 1966 #1 smash “Strangers in the Night” was sadly indicative of his approach to singing at the time (the half-assed scat singing quickly becoming a point of parody for Sinatra impressionists).

That said, this is from the reliable Cahn/Van Heusen songwriting team, so one gets the feeling that, even though I can’t conjure up the melody from memory, Frank probably cared about this a little more than “Strangers” (which he considered “a piece of shit,” and it shows in his “I don’t give a crap about this” performance).



OK, this one’s coming back to me now. From the movie The Joker Is Wild, which I’m sure I’ve never seen, but I have heard this before.

Frank isn’t unseating Nat “King” Cole as my favorite pre-rock balladeer, but damn, his performance on this could come close to convincing me. This is another brilliant Nelson Riddle orchestration, swathed in pillowy strings. His voice is smooth and supple as Nat’s, and glides gorgeously over the notes.

This is really a beautiful song. I get the feeling that Frank was to singing what Bette Davis was to acting, i.e.: he gave the song the performance he thought it deserved.

It’s pretty obvious he thought very highly of this one.

Rating: 4

SHG: Jimmy Dorsey: "So Rare"

Jimmy Dorsey Orchestra & Chorus: “So Rare”
Entered the chart on: 4/13/1957
Peaked on: 6/24/1957
Weeks at #2: 4 weeks
Songs at #1: “Love Letters in the Sand” by Pat Boone and “Let Me Be Your Teddy Bear” by Elvis Presley

Checking out the pop charts of the late fifties can be a bit like catching falling stars. On the one hand we have artists like Elvis Presley, Fats Domino and the Everly Brothers, whose stars were on the rise. On the other hand, we have the likes of Joni James, Doris Day and Johnnie Ray, who were making inroads to the Top 40 for the last time, and by the turn of the decade wouldn’t trouble the pop charts again.

Here we have Jimmy Dorsey, who, along with his brother Tommy, was one of the architects of the big band sound of the 30s and 40s. And this would be his only hit in the rock & roll era. I thought, looking at that title, that this wasn’t a new song and indeed, it wasn’t: it had already been a big hit for Guy Lombardo twenty years before. It was only new to Jimmy, who was then slumming it at Cincinnati-based Fraternity Records, home to SHG alum Cathy Carr. Let’s see how he fares with it:



I’m really torn by this one. On the one hand, good God! Jimmy’s saxophone just kills it! I mean, man, that man could blow! And I mean that in the nicest way possible! Really, the horn charts overall, not just his sax lead, just absolutely slay throughout this whole thing. The whole instrumental track is arranged to perfection on this tune.

And that’s the problem with this recording. The “Orchestra & Chorus” in the credits. I get that it was the style at the time, and one had to compete with the Les Baxters and Billy Vaughns of the world but...my word, the Disney-soundtrack mixed-voice choir on this come close to murdering the song. Seriously, it’s that sucky choir that’s the only thing preventing me from awarding this the full five stars.

Couldn’t we have a remix that eliminates the choir entirely? Please? Because it’s the only thing that’s keeping me from 100% enjoyment of this song.

Rating: 4

SHG: The Diamonds: "Little Darlin'"

The Diamonds: “Little Darlin’”
Entered the chart on: 3/16/1957
Peaked on: 4/6/1957
Weeks at #2: 8 weeks
Songs at #1: “Round and Round” by Perry Como and “All Shook Up” by Elvis Presley



This song has to have been recorded as a joke. It has to be.

I mean, every aspect of this recording is just absurd. Even before the vocals begin, we’re met with clanking Latin percussion and a flamboyant harp flourish. What are we to make of this?

I thought we had left whitewashing back in ’55. I do have to say, this is a long way from the Crew-Cuts turning the Penguins’ “Earth Angel” into a cure for insomnia. It’s helpful to compare the comparatively restrained original version by the Gladiolas. Gladiolas’ lead singer Maurice Williams (also the song’s composer) does indeed impart some rather silly vocal mannerisms (“My love-a, I was wrong-a”) but compared to David Troy’s delivery on the cover, it’s no comparison.

Troy goes absolutely bonkers on this song, hooting and barking and leaping into sudden falsetto bursts. Even when listening to my parents’ copy of this record, I thought his performance was absolutely hilarious. I get the feeling he was spoofing the Platters’ lead singer Tony Williams (not to be confused with the jazz drummer), compare Stan Freberg’s parody of Williams on his version of “The Great Pretender*.”

It was almost a stroke of genius to give the spoken part in the middle to bass singer Bill Reed (it was recited by Williams on the original). It’s in keeping with the silly mood of the song and it’s just one more touch of distinction in a series of attention-grabbing moments. Appropriately, considering who had the top spot, we’re definitely in Type #1 territory in the “strategies for white-washing R&B hits.”

And...dare I say it? Not only is this version on a par with the original, it may in fact surpass it! Well, who’d have thunk it? A white-washed version that’s better than the original? Yes, it’s true, there’s a reason this has endured. You remember this one because it demands your attention. Not only does everyone sing well, but they’re enthused by their performances and put their all into it. I suppose you could compare it to Blue Swede’s “ooga-chaka” rendition of “Hooked on a Feeling” stealing the spotlight from B. J. Thomas’ serious original. I wouldn’t go there, though, as I find Blue Swede’s “Hooked on a Feeling” to be an abomination.

This, on the other hand, I find enjoyable from start to finish. I make no apologies for my rating.

Besides, the Gladiolas did OK. They changed their name to Maurice Williams and the Zodiacs and wound up topping the charts a few years down the road with the classic “Stay.”

Rating: 5

*re-imagined as a skit in which Williams argues with a beatnik pianist, who objects to how boring the part he has to play is.

SHG: Johnnie Ray: "Just Walking in the Rain"

Johnnie Ray: “Just Walking in the Rain”
Entered the chart on: 9/8/1956
Peaked on: 10/13/1956
Weeks at #2: 1 week
Songs at #1: “Don’t Be Cruel” b/w “Hound Dog” by Elvis Presley

This is an interesting top 2, artist-wise, for reasons I’ll explain later.

Poor old Johnnie Ray. A big, beloved singing star in the 50s, nowadays reduced to a passing mention in a one-hit wonder by a bunch of English boys play-acting at being Irish folkies until they got bored and moved onto their next image change. Johnnie deserves better, as he’s arguably the most fascinating male solo singer of the 1950s.

Johnnie was undeniably an oddity in 50s pop music with his rich, impassioned vocal delivery. His odd, androgynous voice confused listeners at first; many when they first heard him on the radio pictured a large, black woman, not a slender, white man. Some have claimed him to be a big influence on rock & roll, though to these ears the real inheritors of his pioneering style were the dramatic male balladeers of the 60s, singers like Roy Orbison and Gene Pitney.

It’s helpful to listen to both sides of his breakthrough single. The A-side, “Cry,” is quintessential Johnnie, and boils down his appeal nicely in three minutes. Interesting perhaps more historically than musically is the self-penned B-side, “The Little White Cloud That Cried.” This might be one of the most confessional songs of its era, its lyrics overflowing with subtext.

You see, Johnnie was gay. As in “couldn’t hide it if he tried” gay.

Columbia tried to keep him in the closet, but Johnnie’s effeminate mannerisms couldn’t be covered up. Frank Sinatra carried on a very public (and obviously more than a bit homophobic) hate campaign against Johnnie. But he had many friends as well as enemies, Frankie Laine and SHG alumnus Doris Day were Johnnie boosters, and fellow SHG alumni the Four Lads backed Johnnie on his early singles. He helped give (the also underrated and sadly forgotten) Timi Yuro* her first break. Elvis Presley counted Johnnie as an early influence, as did later stars such as David Bowie. And that’s not even counting the legions of (mostly female) fans he commanded at the time.

Got all that? Good. Because I really dislike this song.



Ugh! Where to begin? Johnnie is just the wrong singer for a song like this. The lyrics are the usual heartbreak theme that Johnnie has done a good job of milking for years. But Ray Conniff does an awful job of trying to turn this into a Pat Boone song, with drippy backing vocals, an annoying whistling hook and inappropriate ukulele accompaniment. It’s like he was trying to sabotage the song, or at least try to make him more acceptable for the squeaky-clean, increasingly conservative tastes of grown-up audiences as the 50s progressed. Johnnie tries, but he can’t save what’s essentially a pretty poor song.

I’d say “go ahead and listen to ‘Cry’ instead,” which would be good sooth, but pretty much any of Johnnie’s songs would be preferable. The follow-up hit, “You Don’t Owe Me a Thing,” is infinitely better as is its B-side, the gorgeous “Look Homeward, Angel.” This isn’t the first time a singer I like has released a song I hate (I’ve mentioned Kay Starr’s “Rock and Roll Waltz” in passing; don’t get me started, it’ll turn into a rant) and it won’t be the last (ask my opinion on Van Morrison’s “Brown Eyed Girl” some time).

Rating: 2

*their duet on a rendition of Frankie Laine’s “I Believe” must be heard to be believed; both singers are in fine form.

SHG: Patti Page: "Allegheny Moon"

Patti Page: “Allegheny Moon”
Entered the chart on: 6/16/1956
Peaked on: 8/25/1956
Weeks at #2: 2 weeks
Songs at #1: “My Prayer” by the Platters

Except for Freda Lipschitz, Joni James and [shudder] Margie, 1955 had been pretty much a sausagefest. And here we are in 1956, with three female soloists in a row. How do these things happen?

I’ve mentioned the former Clara Ann Fowler already in passing, as the most popular female soloist before rock & roll was on everyone’s mind, alongside the #1 male soloist, Perry Como. Why these two, you might ask? Simple, they both had prominent musical variety TV shows at the time.

If you know Ms. Page at all today, it’s probably for her 1950 smash hit “Tennessee Waltz.” Either that, or the noxious novelty hit “Doggie in the Window.” Hopefully for the former and not the latter. So, let’s check this one out.



OK, thus far we’ve had three female-sung tunes in a row, and they’ve all been quite excellent. Patti was from Oklahoma, so it makes sense that her songs would have a country tinge. It’s definitely country-flavored, nobody would mistake this for Patsy Cline, for example. But her voice is rich! You could practically drown in it!

The “shine, shine, shine” hook grabs you and draws you into the loping waltz-time rhythm, but I think Vic Schoen, who orchestrated this, deserves a lot of credit. Patti gets some solid support from her male chorus, and there’s a haunting harmonica solo in the middle eight.

Like “Ivory Tower,” I liked this a lot more than I expected to! This one’s long on atmosphere, which I didn’t expect. I was all ready to dismiss Patti as a dated relic, but after listening to this, I kind of want to go back in time and kick my past self for being so dismissive.

I’m sighing with delight now. Very pretty song!

Rating: 4

SHG: Doris Day: "Whatever Will Be, Will Be (Qué será, será)"

Doris Day: “Whatever Will Be, Will Be (Qué será, será)”
Entered the chart on: 7/7/1956
Peaked on: 8/11/1956
Weeks at #2: 3 weeks
Songs at #1: “I Almost Lost My Mind” by Pat Boone and “My Prayer” by the Platters

Hmmm...that Pat Boone song at #1 is making me want to listen to Ivory Joe Hunter. Come to think of it, most Pat Boone songs make me want to listen to something else.

I first knew Doris Day not as a singer, but as an actress, via her 60s romantic comedies like Pillow Talk, Lover Come Back and Send Me No Flowers. These films kind of get short-shrift these days but they deserve a bit of credit for presenting Doris as an independent, sexually active and successful working woman in the days before feminism. And there was a bit of witty dialogue there, not to mention good chemistry with her male leads, as long as we’re talking about Rock Hudson when we say “male leads” (Such films rather jumped the shark with the Rod Taylor co-starring The Glass Bottom Boat, and the less said about Caprice the better!).

Sure, they weren’t without their flaws (see the latter-day spoof Down With Love for a funny take-off of both their flaws and their charms), but they weren’t bad. But the point I’m trying to make is, I didn’t even know that Doris had a whole other career as a singer, and that said career was actually her first (somehow ignoring the fact that the theme song to Send Me No Flowers* was sung by her).



Actually, pity the case of poor Doris Day. She’d had a stellar career as a singer, starting with her classic lead vocal performance on Les Brown’s “Sentimental Journey,” yet it seems the only song people wanted her to sing was this one cutesy bilingual children’s song. It even wound up as the theme to her 1960s TV series (which at least gave Denver Pyle some work). Never mind the question as to why Doris Kappelhoff’s German immigrant mother should suddenly start spouting Spanish aphorisms.

It helps to listen to “Sentimental Journey” for comparison. For those baffled by Doris Day’s appeal, listen to that song, and think of what a revelation a knockout blonde with a lustrous voice murmuring sweet nothings into your ear must have been in 1945. Tastes by 1956, at least grown-up tastes, were a lot more sentimental.

It also helps to have context for this song. It was originally from a film, Alfred Hitchcock’s The Man Who Knew Too Much, to be specific. Now, Hitch was no dummy. If he had an actress who could sing in his film, damn it, she was going to sing!

That said, he was also not the sort to put random, pointless musical numbers into his film. This is the lullaby Day’s character sings to her son (played by child actor Christopher Olsen, big brother of The Brady Bunch star Susan Olsen). Without giving away spoilers (in case you haven’t seen the movie yet), the song becomes a plot point. Chew on that for a while when you’re remembering Ned Flanders singing this tune on The Simpsons, or the many ironic uses since.

Maybe it’s that that’s having me sense that there’s a bit of subtext that belies Day’s sunny performance on the recorded version that cuts past the sparkly orchestration, led by that jaunty mandolin hook. Day knew how to insert subtext into her singing, just ask those who claim there’s a gay subtext to her performance of “Secret Love,” her hit from the musical Calamity Jane. It’s precisely her ability to insert subtext into a song that got her acting gigs in the first place.

By the way, this song won an Oscar. So there must be something to it, even if you think it’s corny.

But...yes, I prefer “Sentimental Journey.”

Rating: 4

*“Send Me No Flowers” was an early Burt Bacharach composition. He’d also written songs for a couple of other SHG alumni: Nat “King” Cole and Cathy Carr, as well as artists I’ll be covering later such as Brook Benton, Marty Robbins and, of course, his preferred male interpreter Gene Pitney.

SHG: Cathy Carr: "Ivory Tower"

Cathy Carr: “Ivory Tower”
Entered the chart on: 4/7/1956
Peaked on: 5/26/1956
Weeks at #2: 1 week
Song at #1: “Heartbreak Hotel” by Elvis Presley

I’m becoming a bit gun-shy regarding “whitewashing.” When I saw that R&B vocal group Otis Williams and His Charms sang a version of this, naturally I assumed theirs was the original. But no, theirs was a cover. This was composed by trombonist Jack Fulton with songwriter Lois Steele, and given to struggling ex-big band singer Cathy Carr to sing. Well, it’s new to me, so let’s see what we have here...



I take back what I said about Joni James. Here is the real precursor to Connie Francis. Cathy, too was an Italian-American, born in the Bronx. Unlike Joni James, Cathy has a sumptuous voice, rich with vibrato, with a real feeling of sorrow in there. Maybe I’m reading a bit into it, with the knowledge that Cathy didn’t have a happy life, probably as this was her only major hit.

More of that eighth-note vamping style of piano that was very in vogue at the time. Dan Belloc’s orchestration includes a prominent accordion hook. But really, it’s Cathy selling the song that makes this sweet, romantic ballad. It’s just a damn shame that someone who sings as well as this didn’t have more of a career, but them’s the breaks, I guess.

Oh! And I see that Gale Storm did a version of this as well! Nope, not gonna go there! I’ll just assume it sucks and move on! And look, My Little Margie also mangled “Dark Moon,” the beautiful country song originally by Bonnie Guitar! To what end? Bonnie Guitar was also on Dot Records! Did Gale Storm just have it out for the listening public, and sought out to ruin songs from every genre in a concentrated attempt to get people to hate music?

Oh well, rant over! At least this version of this song is good. Well done, Cathy!

Rating: 4

SHG: The Four Lads: "No, Not Much!"

The Four Lads: “No, Not Much!”
Entered the chart on: 1/28/1956
Peaked on: 3/3/1956
Weeks at #2: 4 weeks
Songs at #1: “Rock and Roll Waltz” by Kay Starr and “The Poor People of Paris” by Les Baxter

Another year, another Four Lads song. 1956 is shaping up to be a lot more interesting than 1955 was, so let’s get this out of the way tout de suite, shall we? (See what I did there? A little gratuitous French for the Canadian artist I’m covering. Can-con!)



Oh, I get it, the “No, Not Much!” is ironic. He’s saying that he really would like it if his beloved would do all these things. It’s like the 50s version of “I’m Not in Love” without the bitter aftertaste. “Like a ten-cent soda doesn’t really cost a dime” is a very period-specific reference, that’s for sure.

For whatever reason, this is working for me in a way “Moments to Remember” didn’t. Yes, the song is sentimental as hell, and their voices are whiter than bleached notebook paper, but it clicks for me. “Moments to Remember” sounded clunky to me with the wailing soprano and the silly narration. This flows along nicely, buoyed by Ray Ellis’ lush orchestration. That rousing orchestral intro definitely made me stand at attention, and I think that lured me into the song.

It may well be the key to this song being such a big hit. As much as the corny stuff from “Moments to Remember” felt embarrassing, it was attention-grabbing, too. And I see Ellis was responsible for the arrangement and conducting of that song, too. The man knows his stuff with regards to making a song memorable, I must give him that.

Rating: 3

SHG: Gale Storm: "I Hear You Knocking"

Gale Storm: “I Hear You Knocking” Entered the chart on: 10/22/1955 Peaked on: 12/24/1955 Weeks at #2: 3 weeks Songs at #1: “Sixteen Tons” by Tennessee Ernie Ford and “Memories Are Made of This” by Dean Martin

Not gonna lie, I went back and listened to “A Blossom Fell” again after doing “Moments to Remember.” To cleanse the aural palate, you see. I knew what was coming...

Also went and listened to the original blues version by Smiley Lewis, which did not chart. For context, you see. I won’t make the same mistake I did with “Ko Ko Mo.” I was previously familiar only with Dave Edmunds’ version, like most people my age. His version has a different feel than Smiley’s (based around Edmunds’ guitar instead of the eighth-note piano chords and skronking sax that was popular on 50s R&B recordings) but he is faithful to the spirit of the original tune.

Something tells me I’m not going to get that from this version. So let’s get this over with, shall we?



[shudders]

Right, thus far in this review series, I have noticed three categories of these “whitewashed” covers:

1. Treat it like a silly novelty song (the Perry Como strategy)
2. Make a half-hearted attempt at copying the original version (the Freda Lipschitz approach)
3. Remove anything that was good about the original song and replace it with things that make you want to individually slap everyone involved with this travesty silly (Pat Boone’s general plan of action)

I’ll let you figure out which category this falls into by providing you with these three tidbits of information:

1. It was produced by Billy Vaughn (responsible for all those Pat Boone atrocities)
2. It was released on Dot Records (home to, you guessed it, Pat Boone)
3. It was sung by TV’s My Little Margie*.

I’m actually a bit shocked that something that was nominally made by “professionals” sounds so slip-shod. I’m immediately taken by the sloppy piano playing right out of the gate. Obviously, nobody involved had anything resembling respect for the original artist’s work. That and/or they knew they were backing a TV star play-acting at being a singer, someone who knew nothing about phrasing or intonation, so they didn’t feel the need to put, you know, effort into their performances.

Seriously, I know this woman was a popular star at the time, but who thought it was a good idea to stick her in front of an orchestra and put a microphone somewhere within range of her thin, nasal voice? It took all my force of will not to lunge for the “STOP” button, so unpleasant a vocalist is she to listen to. People actually bought this record? WHY?

Oh, and I see she has a version of “Why Do Fools Fall in Love” among her discography! No, not even going there! Even my Mom, a former member of Pat Boone’s fan club, owned the Frankie Lymon original, thank you very much.

So...that was 1955. Started off silly, ended tragically, but hey, at least it produced one masterpiece.

I think I’ll listen to “A Blossom Fell” a third time. Then I’ll drill a hole in my head and try to remove the part that remembers what Gale Storm’s singing voice sounds like.

Rating: 0

*For those too young to remember, My Little Margie is a 50s sitcom which has been so discredited over the years, not even the most desperate-for-content “nostalgia” networks will touch it with a ten-foot pole.

SHG: The Four Lads: "Moments to Remember"

The Four Lads: “Moments to Remember”
Entered the chart on: 9/3/1955
Peaked on: 11/12/1955
Weeks at #2: 6 weeks
Songs at #1: “Autumn Leaves” by Roger Williams and “Sixteen Tons” by Tennessee Ernie Ford.

So, after the breath-taking masterpiece that is “A Blossom Fell,” any follow-up couldn’t help but be a disappointment. Bracing myself for a letdown here.

What is up with all the imported Can-Con back in the 50s? The Crew-Cuts, the Diamonds and now the Four Lads. Did US record companies just want to import talent from a country where the performers were guaranteed to be white? Or is that just me being my usual cynical self?

If you know the Four Lads for anything these days, it’s for their 1953 novelty hit “Istanbul (Not Constantinople),” later covered-up by trendy indie rockers They Might Be Giants. Looking at their discography, it seems as though a lot of their early hits were novelty tunes, since we also have “Two Ladies in de Shade of de Banana Tree” (cringe) and “Gilly Gilly Ossenfeffer Katzenellen Bogen by the Sea” (huh?).

Trivia about “Moments to Remember,” it was originally offered to Perry Como, but he turned it down. Bodes well, doesn’t it? So lets examine the case of the song that wasn’t good enough for the singer of “Ko Ko Mo (I Love You So)”:



One of those lads sounds awfully ladylike. Yes, I know, it’s guest singer Lois Winters. Get off my back!

Eh, this is the kind of sentimentality that hasn’t aged well for me. The lads’ squeaky-clean harmonies aren’t helping any. The spoken-word bit by guest narrator Pat Kirby (who thought this was a good idea? I’m beginning to see why Perry turned this down.) in the middle eight is all kinds of cheesy, though its suggestion of drive-in sex was kind of daring for a tune of this ilk, from this era. I guess they were kind of going for a rousing sing-along feel with this, considering they elected to keep the arrangement simple (is that a ukulele I hear?).

This isn’t doing it for me, I’m afraid. This is the kind of music the rock & rollers were rebelling against. And frankly, I can understand why.

Rating: 2

SHG: Joni James: "How Important Can It Be?"

Joni James: “How Important Can It Be?” Entered the chart on: 2/19/1955 Peaked on: 3/26/1955 Weeks at #2: 1 week Song at #1: “Sincerely” by the McGuire Sisters



It must have come as a breath of fresh air to the old guard to have a traditional female-sung ballad returning to the charts. That said, there’s a reason you remember, say, Doris Day or Connie Francis (to name two future artists I’ll be covering soon) and not Joni.

Joni is Italian-American, like Connie, and I guess you could say she’s her precursor. Definitely an old school singer of the “sing the notes on the right pitch but don’t get too excited” variety. I really can’t say much more about this than “it’s nice.” It’s professional and bland. Forgettable. I just listened to it and I already can’t remember how it goes. It sounds like a whole bunch of other songs just like this.

This is another artist I have a bit of a history with, as my grandparents owned a later single by her, “I Still Get a Thrill,” which was not a hit. I have a vague memory of the melody hook of that one but like this, it’s forgettable.

The Ray Charles Singers, who were on that Perry Como song, sang on this as well.

Rating: 2