Along with Fabian and Frankie Avalon, Bobby Rydell was one of the “Boys of Bandstand,” a trio of Philadelphia-based pop singers whose appearances on the original American Bandstand rocketed each to teen idoldom in the lull between Elvis and the Beatles. It’s no accident that the students in Grease attend Rydell High. Like Fabian and Avalon, Rydell was a pop singer whose hits crossed over to mingle with rock ‘n’ roll tunes on Billboard’s Top 100. His biggest hit, “Wild One,” feints towards the pop-rock with which Bobby Darin began his hit-making, and Rydell’s second big hit, “Volare,” was a finger-snapping nightclub gem in league with Darin’s “Mack the Knife. Rydell and Darin’s paths often crossed in the middle of the Great American Songbook, which both vocalists covered extensively.
This pair of albums from 1961 (Rydell’s third and fourth original releases) fully indulges the vocalist’s love of (and talent for) singing classic American songs. Among the material are Tin Pan Alley and Broadway chestnuts by Arlen & Mercer, George & Ira Gershwin, Cole Porter, and Stephen Sondheim, and the jazz standards “Frenesi,” “So Rare” and “The Birth of the Blues.” Rydell also found a strong attraction to material made famous by Al Jolson, including “Mammy,” “April Showers” and “There’s a Rainbow ‘Round My Shoulder.” The arrangements swing nicely and Rydell is an enticing singer. He hasn’t the gravitas of the previous generation (Sinatra, Bennett, et al.), but the drama in his Broadway style give these songs some real verve.
In the summer of 1960, at the tender age of 19, Rydell launched a two-week stand at the Copacabana, a New York City it-club that had hosted the legends of nightclub entertainment. Greeted on the stage by a powerful horn chart, Rydell launched into a zesty take on “A Lot of Living to Do,” the swinging mambo of “Sway,” and a bouncy rendition of “That Old Black Magic.” He sounds confident and comfortable, and though every note isn’t pitch perfect, he more than makes up for it in joie de vivre. A fifteen-minute, thirteen-song medley fills the middle of the set, showing off Rydell’s range (both “Wild One” and “Volare” are worked into the mix) and his preternatural maturity as a showman.
The Orlons were a Philadelphia high school singing group who came to Cameo-Parkway Records on a recommendation from Len Barry of the Dovells. After a couple of flop singles they hit it big with the Kal Mann and Dave Appel’s dance tune, “The Wah-Watusi” in 1962. The single and debut album of the same name are highlighted by the terrific lead vocals of Rosetta Hightower, starting with the group’s excellent cover of “Dedicated to the One I Love.” Hightower doesn’t sing it with the power of the Shirelles’ Shirley Owen, but invests just as much heart and soul into the lyrics. Hightower also shines on the group’s cover of Dee Dee Sharp’s “Mashed Potato Time,” and its reprise, “Gravy (For My Mashed Potatoes),” each of which the group had backed on the original hits.
The group’s lone male vocalist, Stephen Caldwell, steps up front for “Tonight,” taking the group closer to doo-wop, as does Hightower’s pleading cover of the Chantels’ “The Plea” and the crooning “I’ll Be True.” Caldwell adds some wonderful bass singing behind the female duet cover of Johnnie and Joe’s “Over the Mountain, Across the Sea.” The backing harmonies are brought forward to introduce a heartbroken cover of the Chantels’ “He’s Gone,” and the Shirelles’ “I Met Him on a Sunday” is given a zesty, Latin twist by the drummer. Like all of the Philadelphia-based Cameo-Parkway acts, the vocal group’s ace-in-the-hole was the house band, which provided incredible rhythm backing and fat-toned sax solos.
The group’s third long-player (their second All the Hits is still awaiting reissue), named for their third top-10 hit “South Street,” sounds more like a Coasters album, with honking sax and a slate full of novelties that includes the Rooftop Singers’ “Walk Right In,” John D. Loudermilk’s “Big Daddy,” Slim Gaillard’s “Cement Mixer” and the Coasters’ own “Charlie Brown.” Ironically, the latter is among the most soulful of the lot, with great harmonies and hypnotically rising piano figures. The album has a throwback feel amplified by covers of the band band-era “Between 18th and 19th on Chestnut Street” and Kid Ory’s jazz-age “Muskrat Ramble.” Stephen Caldwell is heard mostly in his low, growling “frog voice,” which feels tired by album end.
The King of the Twist does the pony and twists again on his 3rd and 4th albums
One might imagine that the passing of Allen B. Klein in 2009 has something to do with the emergence of six Cameo-Parkway CD reissues, including this one and titles from Bobby Rydell, The Orlons, Terry Knight and the Pack, a vocal groups compilation, and a novelty outing from Clint Eastwood’s years on Rawhide. The legendary Philadelphia labels operated from 1956 through 1967, hitting a peak during American Bandstand’s years as a Philly institution, and becoming the root of Klein’s ABKCO Records in 1967. Klein reissued vault material on vinyl in the 1970s, but was very slow to adapt to CDs. Bootlegs and re-recordings proliferated for decades before the embargo was broken with the 2005 box set Cameo Parkway 1957-1967, and a series of best-of discs for the labels’ biggest stars. Five years later ABKCO is really starting to dig into the vault with this volley of original full-length album reissues.
Oddly, rather than starting the reissue program with Checker’s (and the Parkway label’s) first two albums (1960’s Twist with Chubby Checker and 1961’s For Twisters Only), the series jump-starts with the twister’s third and fourth albums. Checker ignited a worldwide dance craze with his chart-topping cover of Hank Ballard’s “The Twist,” and hit the Top 20 again with a cover of the 1940’s dance number, “The Hucklebuck.” With his third album, he once again topped the charts with a novelty dance number, “Pony Time.” The album also yielded the lower-charting “Dance This Mess Around.” Later that year, he dropped his third of four albums for 1961, and with it scored a Top 10 (and a Grammy award) with “Let’s Twist Again.” He’d continue to ride novelty dance songs onto the charts into the mid-60s, including a return trip to #1 with his original recording of “The Twist.”
Checker’s albums were literally filled with dance tunes, old and new, here including “The Watusi,” “The Hully Gully” (sung to the tune of “Peanut Butter,” which Checker covered on Let’s Twist Again) “The Stroll,” “The Mashed Potatoes” (which preceded his labelmate Dee Dee Sharp’s hit “Mashed Potato Time” by a year), “The Shimmy” (which would be recycled in 1962 as a hit duet with Sharp as “Slow Twistin’”), “The Jet,” “The Continental Walk,” “The Charleston” and “The Ray Charles-Ton.” Throw in a couple of R&B covers, like “I Almost Lost My Baby” and “Quarter to Three” and you have a standard-issue Chubby Checker album. Despite the many variations on a few themes, Checker throws himself into each song as if it’s brand new, and the Cameo-Parkway house band swings hard on everything it plays.
A second helping of Hot Tuna’s acoustic blues beginnings
Hot Tuna began as an acoustic off-shoot of the Jefferson Airplane, with bassist Jack Casady and guitarist Jorma Kaukonen joined by harmonica player Will Scarlet. Their 1970 self-titled debut, recorded live the previous year, consisted mostly of traditional folk, blues and ragtime tunes. This 68-minute collection is drawn from the same series of shows as was the debut, but features an entirely different set of performances. The half-dozen titles repeated from Hot Tuna are offered here in distinct versions; a few of these recordings appeared as bonus tracks on Airplane and Hot Tuna releases over the years, but several are offered here for the first time.
Excellent John Denver live performance from the mid-80s
By the time John Denver performed this 1987 concert in Cedar Rapids, IA, he was a decade past his commercial peak of the mid-70s. He’d found continued success into the early ‘80s, but his most recent release, 1986’s One World, was both the last he’d recorded for RCA and the first album in fifteen years to miss the chart entirely. The album’s single, “Along for the Ride (’56 T-Bird),” had only middling success on the Adult Contemporary chart, and was left out of this set. Denver had forged a non-music public role as an activist, philanthropist, humanitarian, and social critic, but always remained an in-demand live performer. By this point in his career, his non-music activities flowed seamlessly into his stage performances.
This two-hour, twenty-eight track live set touches on fan favorites, social and political commentaries and well-selected covers. Denver’s voice hasn’t the youthful elasticity of his earlier years, but his investment in the songs, even those he’d been touring for fifteen years, is enthusiastic and resolute. He sings the hits at full length, rather than mashing them into medleys, and performs covers (Lennon & McCartney’s “Mother Nature’s Son” and Randy Sparks’ “Toledo”) that had been in his live set for nearly fifteen years. He was an endearing performer, as engaging with a story or a joke as with a song, and his invitations to the audience to sing-along are as warm as a summer campfire.
Denver performs most of the songs solo with his acoustic 12-string, adding a taped background for “Flying for Me” and welcoming a string quartet on stage for disc two. His material is drawn from throughout his career, going back as early as the title song of his debut album, Rhymes & Reason, and as current as “For You” (which was dedicated to his soon-to-be second wife) and the set-closing “Falling Leaves (The Refugees),” which he’d record the following year. His newer material is easily woven into the set, making evident that it wasn’t the quality or appeal of Denver’s music that had waned, only the interest of radio and the new generation of record buyers.
Tommy James’ third solo LP offers Nashville-bred country-soul
After charting fourteen Top 40 hits with the Shondells, Tommy James began a solo career on the heels of a temporary group hiatus that turned permanent. His second solo release, Christian of the World, yielded two big hits (“Draggin’ the Line” and “I’m Comin’ Home”), but this third solo effort – recorded in Nashville, produced by Elvis’ guitarist Scotty Moore, and featuring the talents of Music City’s finest studio players – didn’t catch on with either pop or country radio. And that’s a shame, because it may be James’ most fully realized album. With a band that included Moore and Ray Edenton on guitar, Pete Drake on steel, Pig Robbins on keyboards, Charlie McCoy on harmonica and DJ Fontana and Buddy Harmon on drums, James cut a dozen originals, mostly co-written with co-producer Bob King, and a cover of Linda Hargrove’s “Rosalee” that features some fine fiddle playing by Buddy Spicher.
There are numerous country touches in the instruments and arrangements, but also the sort of country-soul B.J. Thomas, Joe South and Elvis recorded in the late ‘60s and early ‘70s. James didn’t re-fashion himself a nasally country singer, instead finding the soulful style he’d developed on the Shondells’ Travelin’ fit perfectly with the textures created by the studio players and the gospel-styled backing vocals of the Nashville Edition. James’ voice is easily recognized as the one that graced the Shondells’ hits, but it sounds just as at home in this twangier setting. The productions are remarkably undated (except, perhaps, Pete Drake’s talking guitar on “Paper Flowers”), and though not up to Nashville’s current classic rock volume, they still feel surprisingly contemporary.
James and King wrote songs of faith, romance, lost-love and lovable scoundrels, but in the pop idiom rather than the country, so while their topics fit Nashville norms, the words didn’t ring of 17th Avenue. In James’ hands, even the Nashville-penned “Rosalee” sounds more like Memphis or Muscle Shoals than Music City. The religious and spiritual themes of Christian of the World are revisited in songs contemplating the hereafter, the call to community, and the sunny warmth and peaceful satisfaction of belief. Unlike the preceding album, however, none of these songs managed to grab the ear of radio programmers or singles buyers. Perhaps no one was ready for James to fully graduate from his career with the Shondells, but in retrospect, divorced from the pop and bubblegum hits that led him to 1971, one can readily hear the new level of artistry he achieved.
Pop band’s swansong muscles up heavy rock and soul
By the time of this album’s 1970 release, Tommy James and the Shondells had morphed from the garage/frat-rock of “Hanky Panky” to the bubblegum of “I Think We’re Alone Now” to the pop psych of “Crimson and Clover” to the gospel-soul of “Sweet Cherry Wine.” For this last album as a group – James would fly solo with a self-titled album later in the year – they reduced the psychedelic quotient from Crimson & Clover and experimental flights of Cellophane Symphony and muscled up some heavy rock ‘n’ soul. The album is surprisingly funky and progressive, especially when compared to what the band had been recording just a few years earlier.
Opening with the near-instrumental title tune, the sound is funky progressive rock, complete with a lengthy syncopated organ-and-drums breakdown and even a short drum solo. The heavy sounds continue with James effectively refashioning himself into a soul shouter and blues crooner. Mike Vale propels the album’s second single “Gotta Get Back to You” with his bass line, and arranger Jimmy “Wiz” Wisner deploys a backing chorus to terrific effect. The band’s mid-60s garage-rock roots turn up in the “Little Black Egg” riff of “Moses & Me,” but topped with a processed vocal that’s very end-of-the-decade, and the bluesy “Bloody Water” borrows the guitar hook of “Tobacco Road” and roughs it up nicely.
The album’s pre-release hit, “She,” is also the tune that fits least with the album’s heavy vibe. Co-written with Richie Cordell and bubblegum kings Jerry Kasenetz and Jeff Katz, the lush ballad is a throwback to the Shondells’ earlier work. James and Bob King’s originals were significantly more grown-up and gritty than the pop songs the group recorded a couple of years earlier, and suggested the expanded horizons James would explore in his solo career. Traces of the group’s earlier studio experiments are still to be heard here, but with the psychedelic fog lifting, the focus is more firmly on song craft. Casual listeners may want to start with the hit anthologies Anthology or The Definitive Pop Collection, but fans will want to hear the distance the group traveled to this final collaborative album.
Capitalizing on the success of the previous year’s pop-oriented I Think We’re Alone Now, Tommy James and the Shondells paired again with producers Bo Gentry and Richie Cordell to cut their second album of 1967. The album cover depicts the group in a field of blossoms, but that’s as close to flower-power that the Shondells came on this album. There are production touches of the era, including the tight segue between the first two tracks, the feedback, fades and false endings of “Happy Day,” and the audio markers closing “Side 1” and opening “Side 2,” but the melodies and lyrics remain teen-pop. The seeds planted here would fully bloom the following year on 1968’s Crimson & Clover.
For now, the band polished the transition from garage and frat rock to production-oriented pop they’d begun earlier in the year. James finds more space to unleash the power of his vocals, the band’s harmonies fit together more tightly, and arranger Jimmy “Wiz” Wisner’s touches add decoration without distracting from the chewy pop-rock center. The title hit opens with a riff copped from the Spencer Davis Group’s “Gimme Some Lovin’,” but lightened to the tone of a 1910 Fruitgum Company production. James and Shondells’ bassist Mike Vale contribute four originals, including the galloping rocker “Love’s Closin’ in On Me” and the frenzied “You Better Watch Out.”
Though many of the tracks verge on bubblegum, as Ed Osborne’s liner notes point out, the album’s ballads reach to the more sophisticated vocal arrangements and considered tempos of what would become known as West Coast Sunshine Pop. Like their previous album, these sessions were recorded on a 4-track at Allegro Sound, and though most of the instruments are still panned hard left-and-right, the sound is smoother, the band sounds more settled into their surroundings, and the album more cohesive. For many listeners the hit collections Anthology or The Definitive Pop Collection are better places to start, but fans interested in getting past the hits will enjoy finding that the group’s albums are fleshed out with more than the typical singles-band filler.
Tommy James and The Shondells kicked around their Michigan stomping grounds for several years before finding regional success in 1963 with a cover of Barry & Greenwich’s “Hanky Panky.” By the time the single was rediscovered two years later by a Pittsburgh radio station, the original Shondells had gone their separate ways. James recruited a band to be the new Shondells, and in 1966 toured behind the single, cut a deal with Roulette Records and turned their flop into a chart-topping hit. Line-up changes ensued and the band hooked up with songwriter Richie Cordell who gave them the hit title track of this 1967 release, their third studio album.
Cordell wrote or co-wrote (often with an uncredited Bo Gentry) ten of this album’s dozen songs, filling out the track list with covers of the Riviera’s “California Sun” and the Isley Brothers’ “Shout.” Like the title tune, Cordell’s songs tended to pop melodies and adolescent professions of love, creating strong appeal for teens and pre-teens. Cordell later contributed more explicitly to the bubblegum genre with songs for Crazy Elephant and the 1910 Fruitgum Company, but the seeds were sewn here as he helped Tommy James and The Shondells’ transition from garage-styled frat-rockers to studio-produced pop. The album’s second hit, “Mirage,” borrows most of the hooks from “I Think We’re Alone Now,” and they were fetching enough to merit a second visit to the Top 10.
The album’s songs stood in contrast to the psychedelic works of 1967 (Sgt. Pepper’s, Are You Experienced?, Surrealistic Pillow, et al.), but unlike the group’s previous albums, which consisted mostly of material drawn from the label’s publishing catalog, these titles were fresh. Better yet, the band and their arranger, Jimmy “Wiz” Wisner, added some great instrumental touches. Wisner’s strings and horns lift “Trust Each Other in Love” beyond its bubblegum roots, and the ‘50s-styled ballad “What I’d Give to See Your Face Again” is given a terrific twist by the country piano and fuzz-guitar break. There’s a Stax-styled rhythm guitar on “Baby Let Me Down,” and the harmony vocals of “I Like the Way” are topped with a perfect horn-line.
The sound quality of these tracks varies, with most in stereo that suggests 3-track recording (instruments panned left and right and vocals in the middle), despite the 4-track studio. Tracks 1 and 11 are mono, with the latter subtly shifted to one side, moving sloppily towards the center at the 24-second mark, and popping fully into the center at the 35-second mark. The original mono single mixes of “Mirage” and “I Like the Way” can be found on the collection 40 Years: The Complete Singles (1966-2006). For most listeners, the singles collection, or hit anthologies Anthology or The Definitive Pop Collection are better places to start; but starting with this album, the band and its writers and producers had something more to say than would fit on the singles charts.
Terrific 3-CD anthology of underappreciated powerhouse
Pacific Northwest powerhouse Paul Revere & the Raiders seem to have been lost in shadow of Lenny Kaye’s Nuggets and the hundreds of garage-rock compilations that followed in its wake. They aren’t exactly a secret, having recorded for Columbia, scoring fifteen Top 40 singles, garnering a feature spot on Where the Action Is and hosting their own shows, Happening ’68 and It’s Happening. But neither are they afforded the recognition their hits, B-sides, album cuts and live performances really earned. Perhaps it was the genesis of their stardom in Southern California or their major label association that kept them from garage band legend. Maybe it was the themed costumes – particularly the three-corner hats – or that vocalist Mark Lindsay had a soulful finesse which went beyond the typical garage-punk snot. Or maybe it’s that their run into the mid-70s outlasted their roots. Whatever it was, it’s left the Raiders rich catalog remembered only by a few high-charting hits.
The Raiders’ garage and frat-rock credentials were minted on a string of indie singles, and a recording of rock ‘n’ roll’s national anthem, “Louie, Louie,” that was laid down only a few weeks after the Kingsmen’s. The Raiders version bubbled under the Top 100, and along with the Wailers’ earlier version helped root the song in the Pacific Northwest. Picked up by Columbia the single had a good helping of regional success before Columbia A&R honcho Mitch Miller scuttled it. The group’s original follow-up “Louie-Go Home” sounds more like a grungy take on Otis Blackwell’s “Daddy Rolling Stone,” than a riff on Richard Berry’s original, and once again only managed to grazed the bottom of the Billboard chart. These early single, fueled by Lindsay’s fat saxophone tone and covers of R&B tunes “Night Train” and “Have Love, Will Travel,” weren’t as raw as the Sonics, but were still a lot meatier than most of their L.A., Chicago or Northeast counterparts.
“Louie, Louie,” originally released on the Sande label, turned out to be the Raiders ticket to the big time: a deal with Columbia Records. The group continued to crank out R&B covers for the next year, including a fuzz-heavy cover of Gene Thomas’ country-tinged “Sometimes” and a solid take on the Aaron Neville hit “Over You.” The group’s original were initially limited to B-sides, such as the instrumental “Swim,” but in 1965 the Lindsay/Revere composition “Steppin’ Out” began the group’s assault on the charts. Revere’s organ riffs and a confrontational lyric gave this single a tougher garage sound that took them just shy of the Top 40. A short-lived detour into Jan & Dean-styled car songs (“SS396” b/w “Corvair Baby”) was followed by a trifecta of the group’s best remembered hits.
First up was “Just Like Me,” with a wickedly insinuating organ riff, a brilliant double guitar solo, and a vocal that rises from barely contained verses to emotionally explosive choruses. Next was Barry Mann and Cynthia Weil’s anti-drug “Kicks,” turned down by the Animals and taken to #4 by the Raiders. Lindsay really sells the song, singing the lyric as both a lecture and a plea, forceful on the verses and understanding in the choruses. The group cracked the Top 10 again with another Mann & Weil tune, “Hungry,” propelled by its hypnotically powerful bass line. The group (with Terry Melcher) subsequently began writing many of their own hits and B-sides, including “Good Thing,” “Him or Me,” and “Ups and Downs,” and Melcher began adding studio musicians to the mix.
As 1967 turned into 1968 the band stretched from their Northwest rock roots into sunshine pop, bubblegum, folk rock, soul and light-psych. Fine sides from this period include the Beatle-esque “Too Much Talk,” the groovy theme songs “Happening ‘68” and “It’s Happening,” and the chewy “Cinderella Sunshine” and “Mr. Sun, Mr. Moon.” The latter two are among the sides Lindsey produced for the band after their separation from Terry Melcher and the arrival of three replacement Raiders with Southern roots. By the end of the 1960s the group’s singles were charting lower, often outside the Top 40, but their quality never dipped, and the advent of stereo releases (with 1969’s “We Gotta All Get Together”) finally detached their sound from the monophonic thrash of their Northwest roots.
Their success was renewed in 1971 with a cover of John D. Loudermilk’s “Indian Reservation (The Lament of the Cherokee Reservation Indian),” a song that had been recorded a decade earlier by Marvin Rainwater and with some commercial success by Don. The Raiders’ version topped the singles charts – they’re only #1 – and sold a million copies. The renewed success was brief however: a follow-up cover of Joe South’s “Birds of a Feather” just missed the Top 20, and their next four singles charted lower and lower, ending their run with 1973’s barely charting pre-disco “Love Music.” The group’s contract with Columbia ended in 1975, lead singer Mark Lindsay left for a solo career, and though the group soldiered on with sporadic new releases they became more of a fixture on the oldies circuit.
Collectors’ Choice’s 3-CD set offers sixty-six tracks that cover all of the group’s Columbia singles. The B-sides offer some real treats, including the autobiographical “The Legend of Paul Revere,” the Las Vegas grind-styled instrumental “B.F.D.R.F. Blues,” the flower-power “Do Unto Others,” the trippy “Observations from Flight 285 (in 3/4 Time),” the muscular jam “Without You,” the Band-styled country-rock “I Don’t Know,” the Peter & Gordon-ish “Frankford Side Street,” and the organ instrumental “Terry’s Tune.” There are four rarities: the withdrawn “Rain, Sleet, Snow” and its flip “Brotherly Love,” and promo songs for the GTO (“Judge GTO Breakaway”) and a Mattel doll (“Song for Swingy”). The collection closes with the post-Mark Lindsay “Your Love (is the Only Love),” featuring Bob Wooley on lead vocal. Missing are the group’s pre-Columbia singles, including their boogie-woogie instrumentals “Beatnik Sticks” and “Like, Long Hair,” and their last single “Ain’t Nothin’ Wrong.”
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A young pop crooner struts his stuff in 1960-61
