FRANKIE TYLER, "IF YOU CARE" C/W "I GO APE," OKEH 4-7103 (REL. 7/1958)

In 1958, songwriter-producer Bob Crewe and vocalist Francesco Castelluccio were fighting their way up the pop-music ladder. Crewe had some success as vocalist but aspired to produce records and had an exaggerated vision of what a pop record might be. Gay but closeted to all but his personal friends, the charismatic, Nordic-featured Crewe presented as a man’s man in his work life, but his personal sensibilities flavored the larger-than-life effect of his music.

Castellucio would soon be famous as Frankie Valli, lead singer of The Four Seasons, whose screechy, bombastic records were chart perennials in the 1960s. Though I’m an admirer of Crewe’s work and of Valli’s voice, I don’t care for the Four Seasons’ work. I’m not sure why; their records have all the hallmarks of Crewe and arranger Charles Calello’s style. They remain popular and beloved, so millions of people adore them; for that I’m glad.

In the late 1950s, Bob Crewe was an American equivalent of England’s indie producer Joe Meek. Crewe was far more socially acclimated than the eccentric Meek; his double life gave him an air of mystery and one presumes some inner emotional turmoil occurred; Crewe’s ruse worked, whether or not it was an open secret.

Both men, besides their gayness, appreciated a vision of rock ‘n’ roll exaggerated, dramatized and pushed beyond its boundaries. The documentary mien of Sam Phillips was fine, but not for Crewe. He sought to make every element of a pop record larger than life, bolder than bold and attention-grabbing. Like Meek, he sought out younger artists, perhaps chosen in part for their good looks but retained for their willingness to go along with Crewe’s beliefs.

Today’s single, issued in the summer of 1958, may be the first collaboration of Crewe and Valli. Before we proceed, an anecdote about this record. In my search for rare, obscure and unusual records, I work within the systems of record stores, thrift shops, et al. This is a system of piles and containers. I prefer the latter, as a cardboard box offers more protection (even for unsleeved records) than a teetering stack.

Where there’s one box, there may be others, and one learns to scope out the premises in the hope of discovering a box everyone else has overlooked. Such a box presented itself at a recent dig. I’d returned to one store to purchase a single I’d passed on but realized was worth getting. Once I located that record, I noticed a box underneath two others. It looked new and clean compared to the shopworn containers atop it.

I moved the old boxes aside and discovered an untouched, unperused carton of 45-rpm discs. It was themed—records that were neither fish nor fowl. This is where the magic can happen! I buzzed past Italian pop records, exercise records, canary training records…and laid hands on today’s single. I knew this had to be something when I spotted the songwriting credits of Bob Crewe and Frank Slay. That it was on the Okeh label—Crewe’s production home in 1958 and ’59—assured me I’d made a find.

I put the older boxes back atop this new one to await its discovery by another alert digger. I’d got mine! This is an exaggeration of what a rock ‘n’ roll record was in 1958.

“If You Care,” penned by Lee Pockriss and Paul Vance, is a bright rocker in the Buddy Holly mode. With its airy femme chorus, wild, twangy guitar and six-string bass, it’s a dead ringer for Joe Meek’s early sound—minus the tape hiss that plagues those sides. Valli, who’d just recorded a string of singles (and an LP) with The Four Lovers, the nucleus of his later, most famous group, may be backed by his band-mates on this swinging side.

I’d love to know who the guitar soloist is. It isn’t George Barnes; I don’t believe it’s Mickey Baker. Might it be Billy Mure? He was, like Barnes, an older session musician who seemed to appreciate youth music and produced many rock and pop singles in New York at the time. Whomever it is, their solo is a marvel of histrionics and sharp technique and is recorded to perfection by Crewe and Slay. It’s one of the best B-sides in early rock ‘n’ roll.

“I Go Ape,” a Crewe/Slay original, is a panoply of pop-culture reference, teen slang and iconic imagery that suggests John Waters’ sensibility. As Frankie wails his way through a litany of his youthful desires and joys, a robust, aggressive vocal chorus, drilled to perfection, backs him up against an atmospheric rock ‘n’ roll band.

It’s a goofy, joyous song with a big, brassy sound that should have appealed to teens. It did get the thumbs-up from our pals at Cash Box, but it was Valli’s lone solo effort as ‘Frankie Tyler.’ The record has become a sought-after item; were I to find it in the wares of a more organized seller, I’d have paid far more for it than the three bucks I laid on the counter.

Tomorrow: one of John D. Loudermilk’s biggest songs as sung by the composer, plus a more typical comedic number, via a 1965 RCA-Victor platter.