BOBBY FREEMAN, "SHAME ON YOU MISS JOHNSON" C/W "NEED YOUR LOVE," JOSIE 45-844 (REL. 10/1058)

Bobby Freeman made one of the definitive records of the first rock ‘n’ roll era with his 1958 Josie Records 45 “Do You Wanna Dance?” Its chonky sound and moody vibe made it one of the most-covered standards in rock ‘n’ roll. Somewhere in America, 10 bar bands in different states will have this song in their nightly set.

Freeman made many other records that deserve to be heard, but “Dance” takes up so much bandwidth that most of the rest fell by the wayside. He was not a one-hit wonder; he had another smash with 1965’s “C’mon and Swim,” which kicked off the great San Francisco label Autumn Records’ discography. In-between those two smashes are six other Hot 100 charters, including today’s, which peaked in the mid-50s but, like most records in that terrain, was soon forgotten.

Cash Box’s review, seen below, agrees with me that the manic “Shame on You, Miss Johnson” is the superior half of this Josie Records release—his third on the label. Session guitarist Billy Mure does a prediction of the electric 12-string guitar sound of the 1960s; he plays the top and bottom strings of his instrument, which are tuned one octave apart, for a novel effect. And dig that drummer—he is a man inspired. When he and Mure take an instrumental break, with piano in support, it’s almost punk rock.

Just these session cats would make fine listening, but Freeman’s performance of his original song about a woman whose antics have scandalized him—hence the song—is also great. You might need to hear this one twice: first, to groove on the manic frenzy the musicians make and then to hear what Bobby’s singing! Whew-ee!

“Need Your Love,” the ballad side, was the charting item. It’s another proto-soul item that reminds of John Lennon’s many efforts in this vein. An intimate sound spotlights Freeman’s passionate performance on this lowridin’ grinder. Mure’s guitar is subtle and tasteful (not his forte) and the lo-fi vibe is ideal for this emotive moodster, as Cash Box might have called it. This side would have still been commercial sounding seven years later.

Bobby Freeman’s other Josie singles are worth my exploration. I’ve overlooked them in the past, but there are, I’d wager, a couple of unheard gems there. Next time they pop up in a mess of sevens, I’ll pick ‘em up!

Tomorrow: RCA-Victor’s effort to find another Elvis mutated by early 1958, when an insane record by wanna-be Al Elias came out to stunned silence. This is one crazy single, so brace yourself. Expect the unexpected (except that would make it expected, so…)