THE BOBBY FULLER FOUR, "NEVER TO BE FORGOTTEN" C/W "YOU KISS ME," MUSTANG 3011 (REL. 9/1965)

We go back some 40 years in my experience with music. The 1981 Rhino Records LP The Best of The Bobby Fuller Four was bought by a friend who was curious to hear what the 1965 version of “I Fought the Law,” recently revived by UK rockers The Clash, sounded like. He was rather meh about the album and it fell into my hands, where it remains in my collection. I loved the album, which resonated with my teenage obsession with Buddy Holly (also still a part of my musical pantheon). The compilation’s closing track was devastating to my 19-year-old self. “Never to Be Forgotten” had an epic, windswept sound, a massive production and a lyric that expressed some exquisite thoughts on the usual I-love-you-love-we-love fabric of pop music. That track remains a high bar for roots music—one of my songs by which I rate all others.

The 1965 single preceded “I Fought the Law,” but was an utter flop. An earlier single, which was played here back in the Facebook days, “Let Her Dance,” bubbled under the Billboard Hot 100. That single is excellent stuff, with an anthemic A-side given another giant production. Alas, Mustang Records used crappy styrene for their 45s. These pressings couldn’t contain the full sound and fury of the music. Fresh copies off the store racks delivered blown-out audio on the best equipment.

I believe the particularly poor pressing of “Never to Be Forgotten” was the chief agent in its failure. Despite that, I’ve always wanted a copy of the single; it’s a special song in my heart.

Last week, I revisited an antique shop in a small rural town in-state where dozens of boss records have been plucked by my willing hands. Alas, they’d sold off all their stock to a private party; no seven-inch records remained. My friend Jack, who was with me, noticed a 1960s “platter-pak” record tote. These tall inverted buckets are notorious record-wreckers, as un-sleeved discs rotate inside the shell against each other’s playing surfaces. “I think there are some records in here,” he noted. He couldn’t unscrew the lid of the damned thing; after some elbow grease, I got it open. About 30 singles sat inside. Jack handed me a chunk of them. And there it was—a clean copy of today’s single! I’m so used to seeing “I Fought the Law” and “Love’s Made a Fool of You,” the group’s most common releases on Mustang, that it took a moment to behold the song title and realize that, at last, this seminal single was in my hands.

I picked two other 45s to protect the vulnerable rarity, paid three dollars for the trio, and exited with that heady feeling of having scored a long-desired record. Would it sound like crap? Probably. But when would I ever come across another copy? This was the first I’d seen in all these decades.

The opening clarion call of 12-string guitar never fails to stir my heart. Yep, this styrene disc was incapable of holding all the musical information in its grooves. The top and bottom are muzzy, at best. The middle range has clarity. The record was mixed too “hot,” with distortion built into the master. Good quality vinyl could deliver the results, but Bob Keene, like many an independent record-maker, cut corners where he could, to the detriment of his own product.

The song’s power still pushes through the murk. This account of a mistaken identity and the flood of memories it brings to its narrator is told in well-chosen, effective and sincere words, with no syllable wasted or expendable. Thus, I offer you both the mono styrene 45 version and the stereo version from the group’s Mustang LP I Fought the Law. Stereo takes some of the punch out of the song’s impact and reveals the mix is still a challenge for any vinyl format. Part of the problem is the second lead guitar, which is fed through a fuzz pedal. It creates a wall of constant noise that reminds of 1990s grunge rock. The moments when the second guitar drops out show the clarity of the other performances. Fuzz was boss in 1965, and a new toy often gets the biggest treatment. If time-travel were possible, I’d appear in that Los Angeles recording studio, an oracle from the future, and do my best to convince the group to turn down the fuzz guitar.

As it stands, in either format, it’s a great work of art hampered by too ambitious a presentation. The song’s emotional effect is boundless, and it’s the masterwork of this talented retro-rocker whose life was cut short by a still-unsolved homicide in July 1966.

>>> Hear it in Mono! <<<

>>> Hear it in Stereo! <<<

“You Kiss Me,” on the B-side, is an Elvisy pop-rocker with a strong Tex-Mex flavor. It’s catchy and heartfelt and has a larger-than-life instrumental track that the styrene just about holds. Bobby’s guitar solo comes across well, but the busy backing vocals behind it turn into mush. I’d include thoughts on the B-side were I a sudden presence in the 1965 studio session.

>>> Hear it HERE! <<<

Happy birthday to me, BTW! I’m 62 today and celebrating with good friends, music, pastries and a nice hike in the woods. May you have a fantastic day yourself!

Tomorrow: the final RCA-Victor single by country-pop artist Melvin Endsley, who’s been here before. Two not-super-happy songs given the Nashville Sound treatment to surprising effect. A 1958 platter.