DANNY ZELLA & HIS ZELL ROCKS, "WICKED RUBY" (FOX ZTSC 10056; REL 10/1958); THE RAVONS, "I'M A FUGITIVE" (DAVIS 464-45; REL. ?/1959)

I acquire some 45-rpm records that have one good side. Sometimes a band or artist just has one great song in them. I’m sympathetic to the artistry of the B-side; as you’ve seen here, many times, the B is equal to—or better than—the song everyone decided would be the potential hit. In the cases of today’s two records—rural rock ‘n’ roll from the late 1950s—you’re better off not hearing the other sides.

Up first is Michigan rockabilly Danny Zella. He sang and played sax on his handful of singles, among them “Wicked Ruby,” first release on the Fox imprint out of Detroit. This 1958 single got up to #71 on the Billboard Hot 100 in the fall of 1958: no mean feat as the original impetus of rock ‘n’ roll began its cycle into dormancy. The Midwest had a lion’s share of rockabilly-influenced acts, and the sound remained alive and well into the era of The Beatles there.

To a cracking rock ‘n’ roll band, Zella bellows “Wicked Ruby” with rascally gusto. The Zell Notes deliver a greasy wall of sound behind his vocal. A righteous rockin’ guitar takes a stinging break—always a plus—and the stop-start arrangement generates great excitement throughout.

I would guess that Zella’s group recorded the backing track first, since Danny’s sax playing accompanies his vocal. It’s folded down to ideal mono mulch; the mastering is hot and high-impact. This is one of the great rock ‘n’ roll performances of the 1950s, and its sax instrumental B-side isn’t at all bad, but how could any other song hope to compete with this one? Whew-ee!

A year later, teen rock group The Ravons made their lone platter for influential music maven Joe Davis. Born in 1919, Davis was a champion of Black pianist-composers Thomas “Fats” Waller and Otis Blackwell. He encouraged young Otis to write songs and released his early classics, including “Daddy Rollin’ Stone,” on his Davis imprint.

The Ravons’ lone single is a schizo affair. The A-side is a dreadful misfire called "Don't Ever Break Your Baby's Heart." It’s a bouncy pop-r&b item along the lines of The Drifters' "Fools Fall in Love," but with incongruous accordion and a grating singalong section that...well, it just doesn't work. The band and vocalists are more than competent, but the song is an American equivalent of German schlager music—lightweight, trivial novelties often sung with cloying emotion—and of little value.

"I'm A Fugitive" is another matter. In a moody minor-key setting, this dreamlike song features a dramatic lead vocal, the accordion (which works much better in this style) and the band in a sharp, hard-hitting performance. It's got that urgent, sweaty, desperate '50s thing going on in spades, and is as compelling as the A side is regrettable. Talk about a group that had one great song in them--The Ravons are it.

European DJs and influencers have compiled a series of albums titled Slow Grind Fever. “I’m a Fugitive” appears on its seventh volume and epitomizes the sweaty nightmare sound of these compilations.

These two sides epitomize the underworld of teen music at the end of the 1950s. Records such as these never ceased to exist; they weren’t heard by the mainstream pop public and appealed to a minority who loved them but whose buying power didn’t translate into success for publishers, producers or labels. It’s remarkable that such records continued to be made, despite all odds, into the British Invasion era and beyond.

Tomorrow: the final Imperial Records single by co-ed soul group The Majors: a gritty Van McCoy song coupled with a powerful item co-penned by producer Jerry Ragovoy. A grand finale from 1964.