The Romeos, "Julie" c/w "I'm Gonna Rebuild This World," Felsted 9672 (rel. 4/1963)
The identities of today’s performers are lost in the
fog of time. There were several groups called The Romeos; this appears to be a
one-off studio group who made this single for Felsted Records. Released in April
1963 (as was I), it got a positive write-up in Cash Box, but there the
trail ends.
Its songwriters were all West Coast-based, so
it’s possible it was made in Los Angeles. This scarce platter was found in a
now-extinct grotty record store where I made a few significant finds; I recall
visiting the story on January 6, 2021, amidst the swirl of insane news from DC.
What matters most is that it’s a good record;
two fascinating songs well-performed. Producer James Fox trafficked in
unusual/exotic sounds, and his touch informs “Julie,” an eerie popcorn-style
ballad penned by Jim Capps, a denizen of LA music.
At a languid pace, with a distant pair of femme
voices in an atmospheric arrangement, the moody melody unfolds with a pair of
young white males who sing in praise of the title temptress in a hormonal sheen
of longing. There’s a little bit of early Beach Boys in the style; a prominent
chord progression from The Beatles’ “P.S. I Love You,” B-side to their debut
single, is put to dramatic use.
This is the type of pop record the British
Invasion would soon render passé and moot. American labels continued to make
such records well into 1965, as if all this yeah-yeah-yeah nonsense would prove
a fad, and things could get back to normal. (Spoiler alert: they didn’t.)
“I’m Gonna Rebuild this World” would be scorned
as “woke” by the demented, boozy bigots and grifters who have seized control of
our government (or lack thereof in their clownish, inept hands). In 1963, when
democracy still existed, it was a hope for a better world and its youthful
stance is stirring. That said, it’s one weird song and recording.
Penned by Danny Janssen and Wally Keske (best-known
for their musical contributions to various Hanna-Barbera TV cartoon series,
including Scooby-Doo), it opens with an obnoxious-on-purpose performance
by the backup singers and then segues into a youthful daydream of a teenage
utopia—not done as a put-on but with sincerity.
The song sounds like something Rick Nelson might have recorded at this time; he had made a recording of Dorsey Burnette’s “Mad Mad World” for a 1962 LP—a song with a similar philosophy. Why this potential attention-getter was exiled to the B-side is a baffler. With some push, this might have been a novelty hit. The whole single smacks of obligations rendered and a project designed to fail by the powers-that-were.
Comments
Post a Comment