THE INVICTAS, "BREAKOUT" C/W "MISSING," 20th-CENTURY FOX 493 (REL. 5/1964)

1964 was one weird year in American music. Long-established groups and singers found themselves in limbo as European bands dominated the pop charts. It wasn't a total defeat: about half the singles in any week's Top 20 remained US-made; from week to week, American music overruled the British beat groups. The balance that pop music had attained over the previous five years was in disarray. The old guard never regained the ground they took for granted. 

Some musical styles that had plateaued in those years of stability altered in the wake of The Beatles, Burt Bacharach and Motown (the three major change-makers in pop music of that year). Others morphed in surprising ways. Among that number was The Invictas, an instrumental group from Bayonne, New Jersey whom 20th Century Fox signed that year with great faith; they released an album of the band's eerie, unusual guitar and organ instrumentals.

The album in question: a spendy platter!

A surprising source of information on The Invictas comes from a British press release for their issue of the group's earlier single, "Green Bow Tie" (a version of the folk classic "Greensleeves" for United Artists Records). It tells the story of the group and names its five members, so I'll let this document tell the tale:

We're fortunate to have this information; the American releases of the group's two singles and LP didn't include any biography. Today's single, culled from the LP, remains The Invictas' finest moment. Their instrumental sound might be tagged as surf, but it isn't. These are chilling, almost avant-garde pieces that evoke a noir mood far removed from hangin' ten or little deuce coupes. They also differ from the sound of bigger groups such as The Ventures, Fireballs or Duane Eddy. There is an unnerving effect to these two recordings that suggests an approach that, if developed, might have affected American pop music.

"Breakout" opens with eerie, dissonant chords. A twangy lead guitar trades off with the creepy sounds of a Hammond electric organ played by the group's manager, Sleepy Amadeo. It's a minor-keyed 12-bar blues decorated with unusual chord changes, which include a "devil's interval" moment on the song's bridge. 

The dogged pace suggests a dangerous pursuit; its musical drama is unresolved at the fadeout. I suppose teenagers could have danced to this, but its nightmarish mien might have put them at ill ease; nothing a Sprite on the rocks couldn't cure!

Cash Box's weekly reviews of 1964 include a page of laundry-listed singles they didn't deign worthy of description. Some of the rarest and most valuable records of the year were consigned to this "slow horses" page. I've learned about many fine singles through these throwaway mentions.

"Missing" is the group's masterpiece. Its title suggests a desperate search; the melody and tempo paint an image of wet, cold and exhausted men with flashlights in pursuit of someone of something they don't want to see; it will haunt their dreams for years to come.

Amadeo's organ suggests a searchlight piercing the night sky. The melody hangs on a single minor chord for most of the verses; this fortifies the sense of a miserable trek that will not end well for all parties invited. Drummer Billy Bauer does a beautiful job on this side; his percussion underscores this unresolved drama that lends a suggestion of a dark, bleak narrative to the listener. This was as uncommercial as pop music could be in 1964 and we're fortunate the record label felt so gung-ho about this band.

The failure of this single and its accompanying LP spelled the end of The Invictas' recording career. I imagine they continued as a popular live band on their home turf; as well, some (if not all) members may have been drafted and sent to Southeast Asia. I hope they weren't; I trust they went to college and found a career that saved them from the misery of armed conflict.

Tomorrow: Etta James delivers a stunning double-dip of Chicago r&b with a touch of soul on an in-demand Argo Records 45 from the fall of 1964. Killer-diller!