The Cardinals, "She Rocks" c/w "The Bump," Atlantic 973 (rel. 8/1952; reissued w/same catalog no. in 1974)

 

Getting signed to Atlantic Records was every Black vocal group’s dream. Their street cred was enormous, and they cared about the music, though their vision became clouded as the 1950s rolled forward. They promoted their best artists with élan; those who weren’t on the top tier suffered from an indifference.

Once you were in at Atlantic, and had a couple of hits, you might be well-known, but you still had to fight to retain your place. The label’s owners, Ahmet Ertegun and Jerry Wexler, had their favorites, which came and went as their whims dictates. Ray Charles sold a ton of records, so most of their bandwidth went his way while newer groups struggled for attention. Some were reliable mid-level sellers whose records got played on jukeboxes and Black radio stations; they might not have major hits in their q.v., but they had a steady audience.

Atlantic’s first huge vocal group was The Clovers, who had 15 Top 10 r&b hits from 1950 through ’54, then were neglected by the label. Their records no longer hit their former heights, despite a second wind in 1955 and ’56 when they had another quarter of Top tenners. Then their records went in the tank—beloved by r&b enthusiasts, including a young Elvis Presley, but dead chart-wise. Atlantic dumped the group who’d help them build their name in 1958 without a thank-you.

One was swimming with sharks at Atlantic, but one was also in good company, and the vestige of prestige was enough to keep less-lauded groups’ grip tight. One such group was The Cardinals, who formed in Baltimore, Maryland post-WW II. Their debut single for Atlantic, “Shouldn’t I Know,” went Top 10 r&b in 1951, followed by a second smash with their version of “The Wheel of Fortune.”

The group’s lead singer, Ernie Warren, was drafted in late 1951, and Atlantic seemed to lose interest in The Cardinals, who delivered the house-rockin’ goods on their fourth 45, which we’ll hear today. For a group known for their expertise with ballads, they do two original fast numbers with an urgency and style that remains impressive three-quarters of a century later.

This single was chosen for a 1974 series of re-releases which deliver the original sides with improved clarity. The early 45s were mastered at the wider groove size of the 10-inch 78-rpm discs which were the industry standard into mid-decade. The hiss and low mastering volume of many original releases were corrected. As well, almost every Atlantic single before 1955 tends to skip—even if they’re un-played. I don’t know why this happens, but it’s endemic and I’m reluctant to pay more than two or three dollars for any yellow-label Atlantic 45, even if it’s a great record by a favorite performer.

By the time they switched to their iconic red-and-black label, c. 1955, the skips disappear. Thus, these mid-1970s reissues (with the original catalog numbers) are superior to the originals in every way in my humble opinion.

“She Rocks,” penned by group members Leander Tarber and William Hall,  is a splendid example of where rhythm and blues were at in early 1952. Rock ‘n’ roll wasn’t yet a thing, and “rocks” was a euphemism for having loads of sex appeal, especially while dancing. Barrel-house piano kicks it off; the jazz influence in r&b still held sway and the song has some unusual chord progressions that hark back to the 1930s while they suggest a touch of modern jazz. The group’s harmony singing is impeccable, and new lead singer Tarber’s voice has a deep timbre and an eccentric bent. His singing style fascinates me. The band keeps time and has just an instrumental coda. It’s a solid sender!

A more sober Cash Box approach from their 1952 review.

On the B, “The Bump,” written by Cardinal Meredith Bothers (mis-spelled ‘Brothers’ on the label) is a precursor of the dance-craze songs soon to come. The Bump is the group’s diagnosis for anything that might hamper your love life. They tell you how to bump via dense, forceful harmonies.

This time, Sam “The Man” Taylor takes a powerful sax solo as the Cardinals “bomp” in accompaniment. Whew! This side sets the tone for vocal group r&b; it might have still sounded current in 1955. All your swagger needs are met on this sultry side.

This was The Cardinals’ only release for 1952. They followed it with another lone record in ’53 and ’54. That was an easy way to kill a group’s momentum. Atlantic upped their releases to three in ’55 and two in ’56. Their final single, 1957’s “One Love,” is considered among their best, but Atlantic dumped them and the group disbanded.

Ernie Williams formed a new Cardinals and made a handful of sparse recordings that were unissued until a doo-wop collector’s label put them out in the early 1970s. Around that time, UK music historian Charlie Gillett interviewed Jerry Wexler for a book project. When he mentioned The Cardinals, Wexler was stumped. He couldn’t name a single member and didn’t want to spend time discussing them. And that’s called sad.

The Cardinals' complete recordings can be had on the handsome digipack CD pictured above. I highly recommend this li'l beauty! Southern Routes SR-3504 is the catalog number.

Tomorrow: The Soul Sisters deliver a rousing song better-known via its UK beat-group cover version—plus the darndest version of “Blueberry Hill” ever recorded! A Sue Records release of 1963.