WILBERT HARRISON, "DA-DE-YA-DA" C/W "THE HORSE," FURY 1041 (REL. 10/1960)

Wilbert Harrison is back with another of his singles for Fury Records. I have at last found all of them, and while they contain an annoying amount of soundalikes based on his 1959 hit “Kansas City,” they are home to many fine originals and some impressive cover versions that transcend their original versions. Harrison was a stylist, and someone whose career might have gone better had the travails of the music biz not impacted him as they did.

After his debut single (as ‘Wilburt Harrison’) for King Records’ De Luxe imprint, Harrison was signed to Savoy, the New Jersey-based label whose specialty was modern jazz. Savoy had recorded Charlie Parker and Dizzy Gillespie in their prime a few years earlier; in the 1950s, they included r&b, gospel, pop and rockabilly in their catalog.

Despite a powerful, earthy sound with touches of pre-WWII country blues, Harrison’s Savoy sides weren’t major hits. This led to friction with Savoy’s head honcho, Herman Lubinsky. He was the stereotype of the abusive, violent-tempered, manipulative record guy. Music researcher John Broven described him as “…an arrogant bully... the quintessential loudmouth, overweight, cigar-smoking record man with little apparent charm."

Atlantic Records executive Joel Dorn added to this general vibe. In his opinion, Lubinsky was “a hemorrhoid of a human . . . whom even the worst record business golems of the era shunned."

Not a favorable Yelp review. After six singles on Savoy—all top-tier stuff—Lubinsky asked Harrison in for a meeting. As Fire and Fury Records owner Bobby Robinson recalled in an interview (no doubt, embellished in the telling): Lubinsky brandished a gun and shouted: “Get the hell out of here. Don’t darken this door anymore. Go to record for who the hell you want to record. Record for anybody, just don’t come here no more.”

Well. Harrison retreated to the South for a spell, where he made a single for Miami’s Glades label. He laid low for close to two years. In 1959, New Orleans producer Marshall Seahorn became his manager, and introduced him to Bobby Robinson, whose Fury imprint would release 10 singles in four years. Harrison had a chart-topper with his revival of an early Leiber-Stoller song. “Kansas City,” with its irresistible shuffle tempo, sold three million copies. Any stack of 45s in a record or thrift store is likely to contain a copy. This dang record is everywhere. Its dual topping of the r&b and pop charts seemed to make Harrison a star at long last. But…

Herman Lubinsky filed a six-figure suit against Fury Records. He claimed that Harrison was still under exclusive contract to Savoy. Had Harrison consulted a lawyer and not fled New Jersey, he might have used his testimony of the final meeting as valid proof the contract was null and void. Alas, he did not. The suit was settled a year later for $14K, but it put an unfortunate pause in Harrison’s career. He didn’t have another record out for nine months, which was an eternity for a pop music performer in 1959. His momentum was kaput. Another decade passed before his next major hit, a revival of a 1962 Fury Records side, “Let’s Work Together.” By this time, Black music had morphed into something unrecognizable, but Harrison’s ragtag one-man-band approach worked well for the funky vibe.

Between those two hits are some of Harrison’s best recordings—songs unheard by most people when they were new. As said, some of them are bald rewrites of “Kansas City,” which feel a bit desperate, but the best of them capture Wilbert’s loose, sprawling sound in its prime.

Today’s single comprises a would-be dance craze and a revival of a song Harrison first recorded with Black vocal group The Roamers for Savoy Records in 1955. "Da Dee Ya Da (I'd Do Anything for You)" was penned by Rose Marie McCoy and Charlie Singleton, who had a gold standard in the ‘50s with their excellent songs. To the rambling rhythm familiar from “Kansas City,” this remake has Harrison solo with his band in tow—including his mandolin player, whose rolling chords and occasional runs give a down-home feel to Wilbert’s music.

This melodic song has some delightful imagery, including the idea of a million-dollar bill. We’ll hear the 1955 original here sometime soon—perhaps on the biweekly podcast. The Savoy original is more elaborate, but this revisit delivers a stripped-down performance that is worthy in its own right.

“The Horse” opens with bluesy guitar, which continues behind Harrison’s raspy vocal as he exhorts you, the listener, to do the Horse with him all night long. That guitarist is on fire; they play in a low register with maximum twang for three full choruses—two with Wilbert’s vocal here and there. The guitarist turns up his amp late in the record, as if to challenge Harrison to a sonic duel.

That guitarist might be Jimmy Spruill, who did session work for Bobby Robinson at the time. It’s an inspired performance, and his six-string shenanigans seem to coax a spirited performance from Harrison, who could be phlegmatic when without such guidance.

Wilbert Harrison did the best he could under challenging and threatening circumstances. I’m glad he continued to make records and that he had another major hit, though it could’ve come sooner than 1969. He remains one of the most fascinating figures of his day, and his recordings have never been given a thoughtful compendium. Bear Family Records might do a set on him; they’d do the work justice. Hint, hint…

Tomorrow: intense Nashville girl group The Zippers on a one-off single for Hickory Records. A manic uptempo side couples with a despairing, haunting lost-love brooder on the B. A rarity from 1964.