MARLINA MARS, "THE CORRECT FORM" C/W "JOHNNY'S HEART," CAPITOL 4922 (REL. 3/1963)

 

Marlene Jenkins kept busy in the music world, but never as herself. She was one of a mass of backup singers on The Jaynetts’ entrancing #2 pop hit “Sally Go ‘round the Roses—” the biggest record of producer Abner Spector’s career. Several years later, she was a ringer for Francine “Peaches” Barker in the pop-soul duo Peaches and Herb; Barker didn’t enjoy touring and Jenkins may have resembled her enough to pass.

I can’t find any useful photos of Ms. Jenkins on the web; typical of these “Zelig” performers, she seldom got any publicity. Early in her career, she made a few singles as Marlina Mars—a Space Age-friendly pseudonym. We’ll hear her first single under this name. It’s a Capitol Records release of 1963: a banner year for the label and their last before The Beatles became their prime focus for a decade-plus. At this time, Capitol’s singles, with their iconic yellow-orange swirl design, were manufactured of top-grade heavy vinyl and deliver phenomenal sound quality.

These New York-made recordings, credited to Argon Productions and arranged by Bert Keyes, have a powerful girl-group sound that Capitol’s superior materials gave a regal fidelity. “The Correct Form” opens with soulful backup vocalists and rolling marimba. The song appears to be about a young woman who goes to some sort of dating etiquette school; this may be a metaphor. It’s quite the involved pop song lyric for 1963. It appears to have a happy ending.

What matters most is the performance; Ms. M and the backup women achieve that girl-group ideal; an earthy, heartfelt sound set against a moody, appealing arrangement of a sinuous, catchy melody.

Capitol, like RCA-Victor, Columbia and other big labels, was careless about promotion of new artists and had a similar sink-or-swim attitude. Capitol had enough established, reliable hit-makers that they didn’t need new artists; they also realized they couldn’t rest on their laurels. Their hesitation to take on The Beatles in 1963—among other UK groups who did well in Europe and had obvious pop potential here—speaks to their uncertain embrace of the new. What they knew least about was Black vernacular music. They recognized it was a vital part of the market, but they didn’t seem to want much to do with it. Perhaps they felt it sullied their image. ’63 saw a stack of fine Black r&b and early soul releases bite the dust—among them one of my most favorite records, Robert Mosley’s “Goodbye My Lover Goodbye”/“Crazy ‘bout My Baby.” They had to embrace Black music later in the ‘60s: it was too big a force to sidestep.

"...a fetching ork-chorus comment."

“Johnny’s Heart” is better yet. A classic girl-group put-down, this first-person vendetta against a false friend is potent stuff in Marlina’s hands. “You say you’re sorry, but you’re sorry ‘cos I caught you in the act,” she proclaims to a back-stabbing interloper. I’d hate to get on her bad side, based on this vocal performance.

A jaunty electric organ (and those marimbas) offer a brief respite from this lambast, which ends with a bang. I trust the errant ex-friend got the message. White girl-group soloist Lesley Gore excelled at this kind of song. This single predated Gore’s debut single “It’s My Party” by a couple of weeks; her records reinforced the idea that a woman could demand more from a relationship than the traditional submissive role. That’s the spirit!

‘Marlina Mars’ made five more singles, including the Northern Soul favorite “Just Another Dance,” recorded in Chicago for Okeh Records. It’s a 300-dollar disc in decent shape. Her M-G-M single “Head and Shoulders” is another NS anthem but goes for a mere 80 bucks or so.

None of this did Marlene Jenkins any good in the 1960s as she saw her six 45s fail in the marketplace. The refuge in being a false Peaches must have been bittersweet; she had talent and a voice that sounded like a winner but couldn’t break through to a bigger audience, except as a proxy for another performer. 

Tomorrow: another revisit to a record I've upgraded. An intense 1962 girl-group epic by The Pixies, via its superior vinyl reissue of '63. Two haunting, slightly crazed songs!