PAUL EVANS, "THE BEAT GENERATION" C/W FREDDIE NEIL & FRIEND, "LISTEN KITTEN" (ATCO 45-6138, REL. 3/1959; BRUNSWICK 9-55517, REL. 2/1959)

Fred Neil (left); Paul Evans.

Every LP has one track that the listener isn’t wild about. It may a minor effort that isn’t vexing; it could be one that has you tensed to lift the tonearm (or press NEXT on your CD player) to avoid hearing. From harmless toss-offs to “what were they thinking?” misfires, they’re a part of the popular music experience.

It happens with singles, too—sometimes one side is great and the other bland/annoying/offensive. This can happen to either face of the disc. In the early rock ‘n’ roll era, the A-sides were arranged to appeal to the widest audience and thus contain irritating elements that doom them (perky whitebread vocal chorus, cutesy instrumentation, overwhelming strings). The B is free of such nonsense. “Do whatever you want,” one imagines the producer saying. “Just keep it short and simple.”

That’s the story of today’s two sides by noteworthy performers who succumbed to the wills of their record labels. Each side of each record is a world away. We’re fortunate that these guys got to make one side that represented their preferred way of doing what they did.

Paul Evans did well as a songwriter; among his successes are “Roses Are Red,” a hit for Bobby Vinton, “I Gotta Know” (Elvis) and “When” (big 1959 hit for The Kalin Twins). Evans’ solo records are seldom of interest. They tend towards the cutesy and trivial and suffer from grating arrangements that try too hard to appeal to the vanilla core of the mainstream pop audience.

The B to his second and final single for Atlantic Records’ Atco imprint is an unheralded gem of teen protest music. “The Beat Generation” is a manifesto few have heard. “We started out to rockin’ in the cradle…we’re gonna keep rockin’ long as we’re able,” he sings with sincerity against a new-kinda-mambo backing with hearty vocal chorus and a sax solo. Piano and drums drive this thesis along to its too-soon ending. It was a gauntlet thrown down to silence; no one has ever realized the existence of this song and its importance as the high point of a middling musical career. This could be used in documentaries (or John Waters movies) to fine effect.

>>>Hear it HERE!!!<<<

"Tricky jumper" and "sock all-around performance!"

Up next is future folk music legend Fred Neil, who was part of the songwriting community of Manhattan labeled “Brill Building pop” by historians—tho’ much of the action happened away from that fabled midtown structure. Neil made a name for himself in Greenwich Village a few years after he penned such songs as “Candy Man” for Roy Orbison” and “Come Back Baby” for Buddy Holly.

That latter song is an artifact of his friendship with the Texas singer-songwriter, whose name I can use without fear, since the recording has no connection with his manager/producer and the menace that overlooks said person’s estate. Neil met Holly in New York, where the singer had just moved to create a life for himself and his new wife. It is said (and, I repeat, said) that Neil invited Holly to sit in on a recording session for Brunswick Records (the label of The Crickets, Holly’s group).

He is not present on the intended A-side, “Take Me Back Again,” a pop-folk ballad that sounds like Jack Scott, were he to sing the title track for a moody Hollywood Western. Co-written by Arthur Altman, a veteran cleffer whose career stretched from the Big Band era into 1960s rock and pop, its wistful harmonica and stately arrangement are the opposite of rock ‘n’ roll. Not a bad record—but heard once, it never needs be played again.

“Listen Kitten,” credited to Freddie Neil and Friend, is much better. This earthy harmony bopper has an appealing bounce and, as Neil’s own material, much more life than the arranged, fussed-over ballad of the A. I detect an acoustic guitarist who sounds like Holly in the band. He’s not the harmony vocalist; I can’t ID that voice. A light vocal chorus muddies the waters. But whoever’s doin’ whatever, this is a grade-A teen bopper with a rockabilly edge from Neil’s regional drawl. 

Released the month Holly perished in a wintry plane crash, this record appeared, unknown to the singer's fanbase, and it seems the label had no idea their hottest rock 'n' roll star had sat in on an obscure performer's session. They might not have publicized it even in that case out of tact.

Again—here’s a record unknown to most fans and collectors. It takes a moment to make the Freddie Neil/Fred Neil connection, and then to find the record, which is rare, and then…you get the idea. Spadework pays off when one side of an unknown platter is this enjoyable.

>>>Hear it HERE!!!<<<

Evans is still alive and well; Neil’s tragic story can be found on the Internet (you’ve heard of that, right?...oh, wait; of course you have! Silly me!)

Tomorrow: a fab new episode of the podcast—all Black vocal group goodness. As a satellite, we’ll also hear a killer 1959 DeLuxe Records effort by Otis Williams and His Charms. Two super sides with great sound!