I gave up the blog project when I reached 1998 and I realized that I had stopped caring about pop music around the time my first child was born. Music just seemed less important. I'm going to try it again in reverse, beginning with 1959 and working back in time to seek out the roots of rock and roll. It's a contentious topic (much like most of Lem's topics) and it won't be solved in one night.
1959 was a turning point for pop music. A series of events -- Elvis' draft; the untimely deaths of Buddy Holly, Ritchie Valens, & J. P. "The Big Bopper" Richardson; Little Richard's hiatus; Jerry Lee Lewis' scandals -- all these events dimmed and defocussed the first phase of rock and roll. Some doors closed only to be reopened abroad and reimported. But other doors -- American doors -- also opened: 1959 saw the release of two great jazz albums: Miles Davis' "Kind of Blue" and The Dave Brubeck Quartet's "Time Out." The former album, "Kind Of Blue," had a subtle and profound influence. Consider the two quotes below from two disparate rock guitarists:
Referring to his own guitar playing on the song "In Memory Of Elizabeth Reed," Duane Allman said in an interview:
You know, that kind of playing comes from Miles and Coltrane, and particularly Kind of Blue. I've listened to that album so many times that for the past couple years, I haven't hardly listened to anything else.Keith Richards wrote much later in life:
The early days of the magic of guitar weaving started then. You realize what you can do playing guitar with another guy, and what the two of you can do is the power of ten, and then you add other people. There's something beautifully friendly and elevating about a bunch of guys playing music together. This wonderful little world is unassailable. It's really teamwork, one guy supporting the others, and it's for one purpose, and there's no flies in the ointment, for a while. And nobody conducting, it's all up to you. It's really jazz -- that's the big secret. Rock and roll ain't nothing but jazz with a hard backbeat.
~Keith Richards, Life, p. 104.
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Here are my nominees for best singles and albums in 1959:
Here are my nominees for best singles and albums in 1959:
Singles
"Smoke Gets In Your Eyes" by The Platters
"Raining In My Heart" by Buddy Holly
"El Paso" by Marty Robbins
"A Worried Man" by The Kingston Trio
"The Tijuana Jail" by The Kingston Trio
"M.T.A." by The Kingston Trio
"Shout (Parts 1 & 2)" by The Isley Brothers
"Tallahassee Lassie" by Freddy Cannon
"I Only Have Eyes For You" by The Flamingos
Albums
Miles Davis ~ Kind of Blue
The Dave Brubeck Quartet ~ Time Out
Here are some further suggestions for nominations: Link
27 comments:
You were lucky you didn't have to experience those harmonizing commies in real time - to this day I want to go John Belushi on anything that sounds like the ******* Kingston Trio.
The Isley Brothers were awesome. Marty Robbins became part of the sonic backdrop of my misspent youth, as did the Platters.
For me the year that I gave up on current music was '72. These things happen. I think it's part of growing up.
Also, my growing awareness of classical music helped displace the weightless pap that so saturated the airwaves. Give me something with substance.
La Bamba, hands down :)
I like "La Bamba" too, but I count it in 1958. Valens' death in early February kept going going well into 1959.
Kingston Trio was one of Dad's albums that Barry and I flung like frisbees in the parlor at Doushore either scratching it unplayably or smashing it to bits. I recall the cover. Nice clean cut al-American boy types in vertical stripes. The thing is, I recall quite clearly the utter glee of flinging the records and discovering how they flew threw the air like flying saucers. And I recall some of them smashing against a wall. But I don't recall a thing about what happened to us after that as consequence. It must have been one of those things where Dad was so mad he couldn't even deal with us without killing us so nothing happened. Maybe he did kill us and I'm actually writing this from the afterlife. Spooky innit.
"I like "La Bamba" too, but I count it in 1958."
Picky picky.
Chick I was watching a fashion show on you tube, when this song came on. I googled the lyrics to find what it was.
Cool song Deborah -- the original!
It made me think of you, of course.
The Kingston Trio was my father's and grandfather's music. My father was a hard-core atheist-leftist; my grandfather was a Republican plutocrat.
And even in the Trio's heyday, many people -- right and left -- felt obliged to diss them.
I learned to love the Trio at a remove. They were already uncool by the time I hit puberty, but I loved their harmonies, humor, technique, and the songs they covered. I memorized many KT songs.
I still love them. To me they are reminder of the best of that shining idealism of the early sixties, when the past and the future could be celebrated, as well as the many sides of America, with panache, friendliness and humor.
I was amused several years ago to discover Bob Dylan and Joan Baez loved the Trio too, though at the time they had to keep that secret from the already emerging dour forces of political correctness on the left.
Go back and listen to "A Worried Man," "The Tijuana Jail," and "M.T.A." with an open heart. But beware -- you might enjoy yourself.
MTA
At 5, a story set to song is everything.
Don't forget The Little Blue Man, if you're going backwards to 1958, because being wuuuuuved is a big deal, until it's not.
...One evening in wild desperation
I rushed to a rooftop in town
And over the side pushed the little blue man
Who sang to me all the way down
"I wuv you! I wuv you!" said the little blue man
"I wuv you! I wuv you to bits."
"I wuv you!" He loved me said the little blue man
And scared me right out of my wits.
I whispered, "Thank goodness that's over!"
I smiled as I hurried outside
But there on the street stood the little blue man
Who said with a tear in his eye
"I don't wuv you anymore!"
Nice to see you guys are still here, keepin' it real.
I miss the crazy novelty songs which made it to the charts back then. "Purple People-Eater," "The Battle of New Orleans," Alvin and the Chipmunks, Alan Sherman, etc.
Aside from the lone genius of Weird Al, there ain't nuthin' like that anymore.
As far as I can tell, today's pop music is largely humorless and unfun -- unless one takes pleasure in outrage and licentiousness.
MamaM: "Little Blue Man" is delightful. I don't remember ever hearing it. Thanks.
Here's a funny one which made it to #22 on the Billboard Hits 1952: "It's in the Book" by Johnny Standley.
The acid-comedy troupe, Firesign Theater, cheerfully appropriated Standley for their anarchic, drug-drenched humor.
Forgot the link: "It's in the Book".
Forgot the link: "It's in the Book"
Gotta give some love to a song called "The Happy Organ."
@Deb/
Try "Go Jimmy Go" by Jimmy Clanton (1960) Hit it on YT and listen--you'll like it. (I still have it on 45)
It all seemed like three chords to me. I did not notice the untimely deaths of buddy holly et al until american pie, and wondered what the hell that was all about, and thought oh is that all.
Kingston Trio was nice. Guys played it a lot in the dorm.
About equally with Berstein's Handel's Messiah.
Oberlin has a conservatory of music as well as a college, the latter now completely insane.
Insane, or just ahead of the curve? I would posit the latter - look for the government to mimic the administration of Oberlin in the future - speech codes, thought codes, strict adherence to all forms of behavior deemed correct by our betters.
I watched a documentary on Showtime about the Cowsills. The father made the Wilson's old man look like Father of the Year! I couldn't believe I was watching a doc about the Cowsills but it was like good cheese popcorn for me, I couldn't stop. One of the dudes died in Katrina.
Thanks all for your comments. I'm going to consider all the suggestions next time as I move backwards.
Until next time, thanks again.
Thanks, vx. You make me think of my mom's stack of 45's we girls listened to over and over. We still have them.
@MamaM: Your comment made me a little sad.
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