The Ribbons, "After Last Night" c/w "This Is Our Melody," Marsh M-203 (rel. 4/1963)

 

The Ribbons made singles under many times, and their story intersects with some significant LA musicians. Their first single, “Ain’t Gonna Kiss Ya,” was penned by singer-songwriter P. J. Proby under an alias and produced by Marshall Leib, a member of Phil Spector’s first hitmaking group The Teddy Bears.

The 1962 release got to #81 on Billboard’s Hot 100 and sold well enough along the West Coast that copies are common here in Portland. A classic song and recording, it inspired several cover versions, including one by UK beat group The Searchers—the version most people have heard over the years.

While not a big hit, “Ain’t Gonna” was popular enough to be reissued a few times and is part of the canon of the girl-group sound. The group’s second single is really scarce. I’ve seen two copies in the 30 years of my search.

Both I purchased on eBay. Copy #1 was shipped in a manila envelope with no cardboard to protect it—the work of an ignorant and lazy seller. It arrived snapped in two and of no use to me. With much badgering (which included the seller’s accusation that I’d broken the record), I got a refund, and the poor thing got a trash-can funeral. That was eight years ago. I despaired its loss and wondered if another copy might surface. It did a week ago.

This time, the seller was outstanding. The records arrived soon in perfect shape; shrouded in heavy cardboard with it (and its companion record) in plastic outer sleeves, a clean inner sleeve and the original retail sleeve included. At last I had a copy of this record in my hands. I’d listened to YouTube clips in the past, but those seldom do the music justice.

It isn’t the iconic rush of “Ain’t Gonna Kiss Ya,” but “After Last Night” (another Proby composition) is a powerful, atmospheric song. But first—a word about the group.

They were lead singer Evelyn Doty, Arthetta Gibson, Lovie Kinchion and Vessie Simmons. Behind those colorful names were four earthy, fervent voices whom producer Leib showcased with a big, roomy sound and simple arrangements. Leib seemed to believe in the power of a song and not in a showy setting. Session musicians play a rudimentary backing track—no solos, no riffs aside from a chromatic piano opening with a choppy bass guitar.

“After Last Night” is an adjacent song to The Shirelles’ “Will You Still Love Me Tomorrow?” Same basic scenario: a girl goes all the way with a guy, despite the warnings of her judgmental friends. The morning after, he’s still sweet on her, and she prepares herself for a good ol’ gloat.

A Lurch-ish voice utters a few syllables before an Asian-flavored brass solo burns through eight bars. Evelyn Doty’s commanding lead convinces me the guy’s A-OK. This song took a few listens to get into, but now I get it, and it was worth the wait to at last lay digits on a clean, intact copy of this unsuccessful follow-up.

Cash Box nor Billboard deigned to review it; the former magazine, in a gossip column, noted one distributor’s claim that it was a hot record that week. I wonder where it was hot? Its trail is otherwise ice-cold after its April 1963 release. (Hey, same month as me! I love records from my birth month.)

“This is Our Melody” makes for an apt B-side. It featured full ensemble harmony from the four Ribbons, and appears thrown together on the spot, since it’s mostly la-las and doo-doos. This makes it better than, say, an instrumental version of “After Last Night.”

The Ribbons’ harmonic force is impressive, and the girls, producers, etc. get two minutes and 14 seconds out of what it, in essence, nothing. Good job, all!

This group also recorded as (deep breath): The Sequins, Buttons ‘n’ Beaus, Bows and Sandpapers—the latter one odd name. They made one 1964 single as Evelyn Doty and The Ribbons. That one’s horribly rare; one can only hope to touch the hem of its styrene raiment someday. In the meantime, I’m honored to have this hen’s tooth in my ever-swelling hoard/horde of seven-inch goodness.

Tomorrow: try to prepare yourself for the sonic assault of Tony Conn, via two insane-koo-koo rockers perpetrated by Decca Records in 1958. Talk about a rock ‘n’ roll Wildman!