10 Songs is a weekly list of ten songs that happen to be on my mind at the moment. Given my intention to usually write these on Mondays, the lists are often dominated by songs played on the previous night's edition of This Is Rock 'n' Roll Radio with Dana & Carl. The idea was inspired by Don Valentine of the essential blog I Don't Hear A Single.
This week's edition of 10 Songs draws exclusively from the playlist for This Is Rock 'n' Roll Radio # 1059.
THE BEATLES: Leave My Kitten Alone
When I wrote a piece imagining an album collecting the best cover songs recorded by The Beatles, I knew I wanted to call this make-believe album Leave My Kitten Alone! The Fabs' 1964 cover of Titus Tee Turner's "Leave My Kitten Alone" was originally unreleased, and (I think) not even heard on bootlegs until the '80s. It was planned as a single off 1984's Sessions, a proposed and nearly-released official collection of previously-unissued Beatles cuts; EMI yielded to objections from Paul, George, Ringo, and Yoko, and both album and single were shelved. The track finally hit retail outlets legally with 1995's Anthology 1.
PETULA CLARK: You're The One
Although she surged to popularity in the U.S. as at least a tangent to the youth-driven British Invasion in 1964, Petula Clark was already 32 years old when "Downtown" became her first Billboard # 1 hit. Unlike her younger moptopped brethren, Clark had been performing for decades, starting as a child singer during World War II. She'd logged mainstream pop hit records in the UK, Australia, Canada, and Europe well before anyone had ever heard of Merseybeat or the Tottenham Sound. But Beatlemania and Britmania helped to make her a bigger star. She had fifteen American Top 40 hits from 1964 to 1968, and she still performs in this newfangled 21st century.
"You're The One" was not one of those American hits, at least not for Petula Clark. She recorded the original version, but it wasn't released as a single in the States. A 1965 cover by the American group The Vogues reached # 4 in Billboard, giving The Vogues their first big record. I prefer The Vogues' take, but only slightly; both versions are fantastic.
THE FLASHCUBES: Hey Miss Betty
Although their abundant supply of way-fab original songs is a big reason why Syracuse's own power pop powerhouse The Flashcubes are one of my all-time biggest toppermost-of-the-poppermost Fave Raves, the group also had fantastic taste in covers. And it was through live interpretations by the 'Cubes that I first heard the music of The New York Dolls, Big Star, and Chris Spedding (among others). My first awareness of Spedding came via Phonograph Record Magazine's capsule review (by Flo & Eddie, ex of The Turtles) of the Chris Spedding and the Vibrators single "Pogo Dancing" in 1977. My first exposure to a Spedding song was The Flashcubes covering "Boogie City." My second exposure was Flashcubes offshoot The Most covering "Motorbikin'." I finally heard Spedding himself in there somewhere, and saw him play guitar with The Necessaries when they opened for The Pretenders in 1980.
Got Spedding's autograph, too.
Just a few years back, The Flashcubes released a single of two Spedding covers, "Boogie City" and "Hey Miss Betty" (the latter also a song I knew primarily through the 'Cubes). "Hey Miss Betty" is a tribute to '50s pinup queen Bettie Page. Hey, Miss Bettie!
THE HONEYBEES: You Need Us
In memory of actress Dawn Wells, who played the lovely Mary Ann on TV's Gilligan's Island, TIRnRR is proud to present Ginger, Mary Ann, and Lovey--The Honeybees--and their Gilligan's Island Pick Hit "You Need Us." Here's a brief annotation I wrote about the track for a proposed (but ultimately unreleased) compilation that hoped to include "You Need Us:"
America’s sweethearts, Ginger, Mary Ann, and Lovey, three castaways in no danger of ever being voted off any island. The Gilligan’s Island girls sang this song to convince the ersatz rock group The Mosquitoes to bring them back to civilization and inevitable rock 'n' roll success. Like all of the castaways’ efforts to be rescued, the plan ultimately failed--The Mosquitoes were afraid that The Honeybees would be too much competition for ‘em, the bastards. If nothing else, however, The Honeybees left their mark on a nation of young boys, who discovered the secret allure of gurls just by watching Ginger writhe seductively as she sang “Mmmmm, mmmmm!” Mmmmm, mmmmm, indeed.
And ditto for Mary Ann. While this radio show currently recognizes singer-songwriter Irene Peña as America's Sweetheart in the 21st century, one must salute the unforgettable original. Rest in peace, Ms. Wells.
THE KINKS: You Can't Stop The Music
God save The Kinks! From a previously-posted piece about my five favorite 1970s Kinks songs:
Other than Schoolboys In Disgrace, I mostly missed out on The Kinks' concept album phase. I saw Preservation Act 1, Preservation Act 2, and The Kinks Present A Soap Opera in the bins at Gerber Music, but I didn't hear any of that until many years later. And while I appreciate them and dig each of them in its own right, I can't rank them alongside The Kinks' 1960s album masterpieces like Face To Face, The Village Green Preservation Society, or Arthur.With that said, "You Can't Stop The Music" is (along with "[A] Face In The Crowd") one of a couple of standout selections on Soap Opera. It serves as a de facto statement of intent, and a reminder of the resilience of the sounds we adore.
LITTLE RICHARD: The Girl Can't Help It
From my book The Greatest Record Ever Made! (Volume 1):
In 1956, The Girl Can't Help It became the first great rock 'n' roll movie, and it's still one of the greatest rock 'n' roll movies of all time. It has comedy and chops far beyond the reach of any quickie jukebox flick, sex appeal courtesy of the gorgeous bombshell Jayne Mansfield, and a steady barrage of rock 'n' roll luminaries (Eddie Cochran! Fats Domino! Gene freakin' Vincent! The Platters! Julie London...?!). It's highlighted by simply incandescent turns by the right Reverend Richard Penniman, the one and only Little Richard. The sight of Little Richard belting out the title tune during the film's opening sequence is nothing short of rock 'n' roll history boppin' on before your very eyes (and tappin' feet).Stranded in this conservative, straight-laced world of the 1950s, Little Richard was The Georgia Peach, a wild and effeminate black man, flamboyant, a strange visitor from another planet with powers and abilities far beyond those of mortal men. His performances were electrifying, pounding, an irresistible symphony of WOOOOO! A wop bop a loo bop a lop bam boom. In the late '50s, only Jerry Lee Lewis could match the sheer fervor of Little Richard. Little Richard was as bright a star as this dull world had ever seen.
And he was certain that he was going to Hell.
Richard was raised by the Gospel, a believer in The Good Book and its spiritual music. The God that made him made him different. He liked flash. He liked attention. He was drawn to sing what would be called The Devil's Music. And he was drawn to other men. Salvation. Sin. This was the tug of war that would play out in his consciousness, his conscience: a gay rock 'n' roll star who believed in the promise of a Heaven for the righteous, but who knew (or thought he knew) that who he was and what he did would condemn him to the pits for all eternity.
He did it anyway. The boy couldn't help it. Damned. Torpedoed. Full speed ahead....
LINDA RONSTADT: I Can't Let Go
Timing and context can have an enormous impact upon our perception of individual pop songs. When Linda Ronstadt covered "I Can't Let Go" as a single from her Mad Love album in 1980, it was not a rendition that timing or context would allow me to appreciate in the moment.
That moment passed, of course. But in 1980, "I Can't Let Go" was a song I knew from The Hollies' sterling 1966 recording. It was first done by the great Evie Sands in 1965, but I wouldn't hear that forgotten original until decades later. To my ears, Ronstadt could not match the sheer power-pop exuberance of The Hollies, rendering a version that was inherently tamer, more reserved. I was into power pop and punk rock; I had little patience for anything tamer or more reserved.
I've been revisiting some of Ronstadt's work. As I've aged (but not matured), I've begun to open up a little bit to some of the sounds I once disdained. I don't hate Pink Floyd anymore. I understand the appeal of The Eagles, even if that appeal still mostly doesn't apply to me. I never disdained Ronstadt--I'd loved some of her earlier hits in the '70s, and always recognized her talent--but in the US VS THEM! milieu of new wave music colliding with the mainstream in the post-punk era, Ronstadt seemed to be part of the enemy camp. From that ubiquitous GREM! book:
...But my embrace of punk made her seem, I dunno...suddenly uncool. Schisms were forming, turfs were declared, and the fact that none of that nonsense of picking sides in pop music made a damned bit of rational sense couldn't stop zealots like me from planting our flags and screeching.
Linda aligned herself with the other side, with the likes of The Eagles. She told Rolling Stone about seeing The Ramones play live, and hating it, describing the sound as so constricted it could only be called hemorrhoid music; The Ramones later commented that she had left the show holding her ears. Flag planted.
Sure, this all seems stupid now. But it was dead serious at the time. Even Linda's decision to cover a few songs written by angry young man Elvis Costello was viewed with suspicion and loathing (and that's just from Costello himself). Her 1980 album Mad Love wasn't really her new wave album, but that's how a few people perceived it. I lumped it in with Billy Joel's Glass Houses as examples of boring old farts trying to catch a new wave to be sittin' on top of a trend. I like both albums a lot more now than I did then.
And I appreciate Linda Ronstadt a lot more now, as well....
In programming TIRnRR's 1/10/2021 playlist, I listened again to Linda Ronstadt's "I Can't Let Go" and--for the first time--I found myself digging it. The record didn't change. I changed. I still like The Hollies' version best. But now I love Linda's version, too. I tried and I tried, but I can't say goodbye.
THE SKELETONS: Mad Old Lady
Man, if you have a chance, check out the documentary The Center Of Nowhere: The Spirit And Sounds Of Springfield, Missouri. It's a fascinating account of Springfield's rich and essential music history, and while I regret that Missouri's phenomenal pop combo Fools Face didn't rate at least a passing mention, the film rightly focuses in large part on the late Lou Whitney, producer and bassist for The Skeletons. The Skeletons were one of the best live acts I ever saw, and I wish I'd had more opportunities to do so (and to see related bands The Symptoms and The Morells). Holy guacamole, these guys were good. I chatted very briefly with Whitney at a Syracuse club date in the '90s, and later did a telephone interview with him, as well. The interview was conducted for DISCoveries magazine, but circumstances moved it to publication in Goldmine instead. You can read that story and interview here.
"Mad Old Lady" is a track from The Skeletons' 1997 album Nothing To Lose. I confess I'd forgotten all about the song until hearing it again as it played in The Center Of Nowhere. That was sufficient motivation to place "Mad Old Lady" on this week's TIRnRR playlist.
STEVIE WONDER: Signed, Sealed, Delivered I'm Yours
Sometimes we play songs with an unspoken intent, an implied meaning. One might think that to be the case for this week's spin of Stevie Wonder's classic "Signed, Sealed, Delivered I'm Yours," opening our radio show the Sunday night after Congress certified the Electoral College win of our President-Elect, Joe Biden. But, believe it or not, it was another example of me playing a song just because my iPod said so; the Wonder track come on during a recent commute, and I knew I wanted to play it again on TIRnRR.
That does not mean that I was unaware of the context. And January 20th can't come quickly enough to suit me.
THE RAMONES: I Don't Want To Grow Up
I play The Ramones' confident cover of the Tom Waits-Kathleen Brennan song "I Don't Want To Grow Up" every January, usually more than once. Usually a lot more than once. It is, after all, The Greatest Record Ever Made!
And, as I've said a time or two before: Don't want to. Won't have to. Ain't gonna.
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This Is Rock 'n' Roll Radio with Dana & Carl airs Sunday nights from 9 to Midnight Eastern, on the air in Syracuse at SPARK! WSPJ 103.3 and 93.7 FM, and on the web at http://sparksyracuse.org/ You can read about our history here.
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Carl's writin' a book! The Greatest Record Ever Made! (Volume 1)will contain 165 essays about 165 tracks, each one of 'em THE greatest record ever made. An infinite number of records can each be the greatest record ever made, as long as they take turns. Updated initial information can be seen here: THE GREATEST RECORD EVER MADE! (Volume 1). My weekly Greatest Record Ever Made! video rants can be seen in my GREM! YouTube playlist. And I'm on Twitter @CafarelliCarl.
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