The Ray Men, "Walkin' Down The Street Called Love" c/w "Baby, What'cha Want Me," Diamond D-186 (rel. 7/1965)

Diamond Records was one of many American labels with a high “meh” factor. Their roster tipped on the bland side. There's nothing of interest to be found in the discography of Ronnie Dove, Diamond’s biggest hit-maker. In the lesser-known byways of its catalog, Diamond offers some great singles, including today’s, a 1965 release by Link Wray and his group The Ray Men.

Native American Wray was rock’s most intense artist to get into the pop-music mainstream with his legendary 1958 instrumental “Rumble.” Banned in many cities as an act of adolescent insurrection, the record’s wicked guitar tone, menacing power chords and sinister stroll tempo thrilled teenagers during its brief release on Cadence Records, home to Andy Williams and The Everly Brothers.

Though “Rumble” reached the national Top 20 and did well in less prudent cities, it was scorned and Cadence removed it from their catalog (although they reissued it in 1961 as one half of a Gold Record Series single). Wray and his family made a whole album for Cadence, which label owner Archie Bleyer opted not to release. (It was found and has been issued on CD.)

Wray managed another chart hit with his easiest-to-find single, “Raw-hide” c/w “Dixie Doodle,” a 1959 Epic Records single (it charted at #23, seven notches lower than “Rumble”), but none of his other 45s got into the mainstream and his outsider status—one of enormous influence to a generation or two of rock musicians—was cemented. Wray is now part of the rock ‘n’ roll canon but is misunderstood by casual listeners. A soft-spoken, rather sickly man (he lost one of his lungs through tuberculosis, which he caught while on military duty) who preferred to let his guitar speak for him.

Wray and his brother Vernon did vocalize when needed, and today’s single captures the Wray combine in garage-band form. One side is a revival of a Jimmy Reed song that has been in countless bar-band set-lists; the other is a group original, credited to Link’s father, Fred Ray Sr. Though relations between father and son were strained, Link’s gift of songwriting credit might have smoothed some of the tension between he and his dad.

We’ll play the B-side, a group original, first. “Walkin’ Down a Street Called Love” has a clamorous sound similar to UK hitmakers The Dave Clark Five. This single was home-recorded at Wray’s backyard studio, a converted chicken coop with a three-track tape recorder that Link preferred to the posh studios of major labels.

Thudding drums, Dylanesque harmonica (that is, the instrument played with wild abandon) and Wray’s lead guitar, fed through an oscillating amplifier surround the raucous group harmonies of The Ray Men, who never sounded less menacing as they offer up their equivalent of a flower-power, peace-love-and-understanding kinda song. It’s cheerful, boisterous and winning.

Ignored by radio stations and the press, this single had a brief, uneventful life and was dropped from the Diamond catalog in the blink of a jaundiced eye. The label’s focus was on their hitmakers Ronnie Dove and Johnny Thunder. Like Sun Records, Diamond had to push their successful acts to survive. Everyone else suffered in various degrees.

“Baby, What'cha Want Me” is the familiar three-chord blues by Jimmy Reed that’s missing “To Do” at the end of its title. This is more up Wray’s rock ‘n’ roll alley. Vicious, lacerating guitar, over-boosted harmony vocals, simple percussion: this is roadhouse rock with zero f*cks given. Wray and his Men were punk before the concept existed, and it’s great to hear them tuck into a familiar song with their trademark abandon.

Tomorrow: two California college students smitten by The Byrds make their one-shot garage-rock single for Dore Records. Two Byrds covers delivered in urgent fashion, 1965-style.