GENE VINCENT, "IF YOU WANT MY LOVIN'" C/W "MISTER LONELINESS," CAPITOL 4525 (REL. 2/1961)

The first days of April have brought a big stack of new old records to the collection. You’ll hear the fruits of this fresh stuff this week and beyond! For Monday, we turn to one of the final records of a rock ‘n’ roll icon—in his first go-round. Gene Vincent and his Blue Caps burst on the music scene in May 1956 with their immortal “Be-Bop-a-Lula”—the first of a long string of singles for Capitol Records into 1963. By February 1961, when today’s single was issued, music had changed far away from the singer’s roots. The earthy, powerful sound of ’56 had been tolerated by record executives for about two years, by which time seasoned pros schooled in “good” music put their spin on the formula and commodified it. By 1960, the only good rock ‘n’ roll records were made in the hinterlands. By oversight, a genuine rocker might sneak out from Capitol, Decca or RCA-Victor, but it was seldom if ever intentional.

Rock ‘n’ roll never died, as the history books might have you believe. It went underground until the global phenomenon of The Beatles restored it to mainstream currency. For established performers like Gene Vincent, to continue as a recording artist meant constant compromise. Vincent sold well enough for Capitol to keep him on their roster. He had issued his final Capitol LP, Crazy Times, a few months earlier. The 1960 LP is a solid set of pop-rockers, enlivened by Vincent’s world-weary voice and its highlight, “She She Little Sheila,” got a singles release in the UK, where Vincent had a major following (the best reason Capitol kept him on-board), but was overlooked in America, where its lively, bright sound would have gotten the artist back on the Hot 100.

Instead, Capitol forced current pop styles on the singer and inconsistent material—some great, some inane—as if to dare him to keep recording. His last chart single, “Dance to the Bop,” came out in 1957. Most artists were given the boot after a year—two years, tops—of failed releases. Perhaps Gene had some compromising info on a Capitol record exec!

Today’s single is his third-to-last release on Capitol and is a snapshot of where musicians like Vincent were in 1961. John Maralasco, the songwriter of several Little Richard hits and one of the architects of rock ‘n’ roll, co-penned “If You Want My Lovin’,” a fine song performed with vigor by Vincent. Then there’s the perky femme chorus and frantic strings. No rock ‘n’ roll record ever needed or benefitted from those decorations and they feel tacked-on—not integral to song or performance. Take all that frosting away, and you’d have a solid and credible pop-rocker. Deep sigh at irreversible bad decisions. Bonus points for a manic piano solo which almost sounds like a marimba in spots!

Gene remains game, and it’s a pity his style was no longer respected by those who recorded him. This year, Elvis Presley released one of his best singles in the powerful twin-spin “Little Sister” c/w “Marie’s the Name (of His Latest Flame),” which proved that a rock ‘n’ roll artist could work within the system and still retain their dignity. Too bad Vincent didn’t record in Nashville, which was more simpatico to his approach.

>>> Hear it HERE! <<<

"Very well-done teen rocker." Uh...

The vocal chorus is more irksome on “Mister Loneliness,” another solid song penned by the amusing trio of Boobis, Stevens and Nephew. The strings have some purpose here—they accentuate the anxiety of the song’s emotional crisis. But those ya-ya gals: oy vey! I’m sure the singers were all fine human beings and good to all those around them, but…who did this sound good to? Who arranged this onslaught of piercing, aggressive voices and considered it fine work? Again, Gene pours himself into the song and does his best to overcome the schlock factor of those stabbing ya-yas. I feel for him.

>>> Hear it HERE! <<<

Records like this one are an important part of music history. We can derive understanding from good and bad decisions, and the latter’s examples make us that much more grateful of the former. It’s all in the game, as that century-old song goes…

Tomorrow: a 180 to intense Los Angeles r&b from Tony Harris, who struggled between the worlds of gospel and secular music. This 1957 Ebb Records single is heavenly to my ears—a throat-rending rocker and a popcorn-ish minor-key blues ballad. The first item from a recent haul of rare goodies!