JIMMY BASILE, "I'LL NEVER BE ANYONE BUT ME" C/W "LULU," CAPITOL 4960 (REL. 4/1963)

Capitol Records released four singles on April 22, 1963. Among them was one of my favorite 45s of them all, singer-songwriter Robert Mosley’s “Goodbye, My Lover, Goodbye” c/w “Crazy ‘bout My Baby.” This exquisite expression of romantic farewell, coupled with a fast-paced, Latin-flavored soul mover is just about as good at it gets, music-wise. It was a chart failure, as were its three release-mates, which included a soulful outing by Jay Miller and Bakersfield country music from Tommy Collins. That performer was on the verge of a major career revival after almost a decade in the wilderness, hit-wise.

Not a good week, sales-wise, for Capitol, but music-wise these four singles range from solid to sensational. The oddest bird of the lot is today’s pick—the lone recordings of Jimmy Basile. An article from the February 2, 1963 edition of Cash Box explains how this performer’s one shot at recording came to be:

 

Bobby Darin and songwriter Rudy Clark were the partners of T.M. Music, and several Capitol singles released in 1963 and ’64 bear this production credit. How Darin discovered this singer-songwriter isn’t noted. More attention is paid to the forgettable Wayne Newton, Capitol’s pop albatross of the 1960s who did have chart hits and called public taste into question.

Darin was a stylistic chameleon; his solo sides for Direction Records, later in the decade, presage the hip-hop sound and ‘70s soul/funk. I know: sounds unlikely, but I’ve heard some of these sides and they’re quite the surprise. He must have sensed something special in Basile, and he was right about the topside of this mega-obscure single. “I’ll Never Be Anyone but Me” is about two years ahead of its time. It sounds much like the introspective songs Phil Sloan would write and record in 1965 and ’66. Its sound is tied to 1963, but its words and thoughts expressed look forward into music’s future.

A spectral guitar riff drives this modal song about a guy who can’t change his act to please others, including the girl he loves but knows he’ll never have. Though this thought pains him, he’s steadfast: I gotta be me or else. In ’63, a pop song had to have a love angle, and a vocal chorus. Both are present to the slight detriment of the song, but it still succeeds as something original-sounding and unusual. Basile’s voice is earnest and appealing, and his self-harmonized duet is effective. To producers Darin and Clark’s credit, the Dread Chorus doesn’t chime in until late in the record.

Some of Phil Sloan’s solo records have the Dread Chorus as well, so that tendency didn’t vanish in the age of folk-rock. “I’ll Never Be…” is one of 1963’s most distinctive American records, and deserves to be heard, 62 years after its recording and brief, failed moment in the music marketplace.

>>> Hear it HERE! <<<

Cash Box didn’t review it; Billboard gave this side four stars but didn’t comment on it:

Billboard deemed “Lulu” half as good, and it’s one strange-ass B-side. It's a take-off on the Buddy Holly sound, with a touch of UK pop singer/yodeler Frank Ifield. This is an obvious tongue-in-cheek item—perhaps a spoof on Tommy Roe’s recent chart-topper “Sheila,” a record which continues to fool listeners into thinking it’s a Buddy Holly record.

Add a gonzo guitar solo and a bizarro coda, and you’ve got one great big ol’ “huh?!” of a recording. Such records are easy to misunderstand and, thus, hate, but I find its whacked-out playful nature charming. See what you think…

>>> Hear it HERE! <<<

Researchers have determined that Basile wrote songs as Jimmy Longer. One was recorded by country singer Lucille Starr for a 1967 Epic Records single. The song was copyrighted in the summer of 1964; it’s the only known example of this songwriter’s work getting recorded after his Capitol 45. (Four songs of his are listed in the second volume of the Library of Congress’ 1964 song copyrights.) He may still be with us, drawing his Social Security stipend and wondering where all the years went.

I am honor-bound to plug my new book One Record Wonders: One Show was All They Got--100 Complete Unknowns, recently published by Redwing Blackbird Books. Herein are 100 essays on as many performers who only made one 45-rpm single.

I will keep plugging this book, which includes access to a free playlist of every song discussed between the covers of this handsome 342-page trade paperback, until people buy it. If you like "Frank's Jukebox," you will enjoy this book, and its short essays make for ideal bathroom reading or idle-thumbing-through. It's a book I believe you'll return to time and again. It can be bought HERE and I hope you'll take the plunge.

Tomorrow: soulful goodness from the reliable Little Willie John, via a fine 1962 King Records platter.