Don & Dewey, "Big Boy Pete" c/w "Farmer John," Specialty 659 (rel. 2/1959)
Don McLean's near-insufferable "American Pie" declared February 3, 1959 "the day the music died." Sorry, Donno, but today's platter refutes that there thesis. The loss of Buddy Holly was enormous to American music, but rock 'n' roll did not pack its grip and make its getaway. It had run its course as an American fad/craze and record labels did all they could to tame the beast. Buddy Holly had, at his request, recorded with a string section on his final studio session.
I think it was an attempt to broaden the appeal of youth music and make it more legit. The protesters, all corpulent middle-aged do-gooders with short tempers, had run out of complaints. Elvis had won too many fans and hearts across a broad age demographic. In an ideal world, this would've meant rockers being accepted rather than tolerated and an infusion of energy and enthusiasm for this still-fresh approach to popular song.
Instead, producers, record execs and arrangers sought more control over the results, and proffered a studio-based sound that put the performer in the least important spot. The sound of a recording, rather than its performer, became the tacit star. We see the rise of producer-as-personality: Phil Spector, Bob Crewe, Jerry Leiber & Mike Stoller, Hugo & Luigi, Berry Gordy. This would continue into the 1960s and never quite depart the music scene.
American free will being what it is, certain musicians thumbed their nose at this scheme and did their own thing. This often meant a diminution of sales, PR support and hit records, but some rock 'n' roll artists did well enough with their live performances (back when a musician, or any artist, could, uh, make a living and, er, get paid for it) that hit records didn't matter. If one fell out of the sky, sure, they'd take it. But many rockers had a built-in fanbase who bought their new releases in just enough volume to keep them afloat. Hey, the whole idea of this thing is to have fun and make some wild music, right? Not tally the results in some accountant's ledger.
Enter our heroes Don Terry and Dewey Harris. Their run of singles on Specialty Records is a great body of work. None of them were charted pop hits! Not a one! For their sixth Specialty platter, the duo coupled two major rock 'n' roll standards. Many others had hits with these two songs, but not the composers.
For years, I could never find any of D&D's singles. Then I found several of their debut disc for Specialty, "Jungle Hop." Then another long silence. Now I have five of their Specialty platters, and I have my eye on their debut disc for a small LA label in 1956. I seem to like these guys.
"Farmer John" is a song you've heard many times; it's a rock 'n' roll standard that every bar band in America has played at least once. This story-song of a guy smitten with the stand-offish daughter of an agriculturist sports an exciting blues melody, punctuated with horns as our harmonizing heroes express their desire for (and intention to marry) the hard-to-reach girl "with the champagne eyes."
Like many a great rock 'n' roll song, its narrative is unresolved at the fade-out; one wonders what farmer John thought of this scenario. I picture actor James Cromwell as the farmer, blinking as he comprehends the protests of these two guys, with a nervous glance to his daughter, who watches from within the farmhouse.
Instead, producers, record execs and arrangers sought more control over the results, and proffered a studio-based sound that put the performer in the least important spot. The sound of a recording, rather than its performer, became the tacit star. We see the rise of producer-as-personality: Phil Spector, Bob Crewe, Jerry Leiber & Mike Stoller, Hugo & Luigi, Berry Gordy. This would continue into the 1960s and never quite depart the music scene.
American free will being what it is, certain musicians thumbed their nose at this scheme and did their own thing. This often meant a diminution of sales, PR support and hit records, but some rock 'n' roll artists did well enough with their live performances (back when a musician, or any artist, could, uh, make a living and, er, get paid for it) that hit records didn't matter. If one fell out of the sky, sure, they'd take it. But many rockers had a built-in fanbase who bought their new releases in just enough volume to keep them afloat. Hey, the whole idea of this thing is to have fun and make some wild music, right? Not tally the results in some accountant's ledger.
Enter our heroes Don Terry and Dewey Harris. Their run of singles on Specialty Records is a great body of work. None of them were charted pop hits! Not a one! For their sixth Specialty platter, the duo coupled two major rock 'n' roll standards. Many others had hits with these two songs, but not the composers.
For years, I could never find any of D&D's singles. Then I found several of their debut disc for Specialty, "Jungle Hop." Then another long silence. Now I have five of their Specialty platters, and I have my eye on their debut disc for a small LA label in 1956. I seem to like these guys.
"Farmer John" is a song you've heard many times; it's a rock 'n' roll standard that every bar band in America has played at least once. This story-song of a guy smitten with the stand-offish daughter of an agriculturist sports an exciting blues melody, punctuated with horns as our harmonizing heroes express their desire for (and intention to marry) the hard-to-reach girl "with the champagne eyes."
Like many a great rock 'n' roll song, its narrative is unresolved at the fade-out; one wonders what farmer John thought of this scenario. I picture actor James Cromwell as the farmer, blinking as he comprehends the protests of these two guys, with a nervous glance to his daughter, who watches from within the farmhouse.
Cash Box delivers their verdict. Both songs would be hits--for other artists.
"Big Boy Pete" is better yet: a colorful story-song that alternates singing and proto-rappin'. Honky-tonk Street is the setting for this drama-in-song, decorated with a big-band flourish that helps rather than hampers and sounds like a specialty number from some deranged TV variety show.
It's a listen-to song rather than a dance-to song, and a vocal tour-de-force for these singer-songwriters. Somewhere between Chuck Berry and The Coasters sits this robust narrative that also entered the bar-band set-list across the nation.
It's a listen-to song rather than a dance-to song, and a vocal tour-de-force for these singer-songwriters. Somewhere between Chuck Berry and The Coasters sits this robust narrative that also entered the bar-band set-list across the nation.
As said, both songs became hits for other artists. Latino group The Premiers hit big with "Farmer John," which got into the Top 20 in 1964 via its release on Warner Brothers Records. In England, The Searchers covered it as a hasty album track which inspired a raft of European versions, including one by The Hep Stars, a Swedish band. Detroit garage band The Tidal Waves got it back on US charts in 1966. Los Lobos, Neil Young and many others have since recorded or performed it.
"Big Boy Pete" was a 1960 hit for LA vocal group The Olympics; The Tidal Waves covered it in '66; check out THIS POST for that recording. And The Grateful Dead made it a live staple, in a version patterned on The Olympics' hit rendition.
One hopes Terry and Harris collected decent royalties from all these versions. That might have been a better pay-off, over time, than the success of their original single. I believe this is called making lemonade.
"Big Boy Pete" was a 1960 hit for LA vocal group The Olympics; The Tidal Waves covered it in '66; check out THIS POST for that recording. And The Grateful Dead made it a live staple, in a version patterned on The Olympics' hit rendition.
One hopes Terry and Harris collected decent royalties from all these versions. That might have been a better pay-off, over time, than the success of their original single. I believe this is called making lemonade.
Tomorrow: Detroit's Royal Jokers rock the house with a delightful 1961 platter for Bigtop Records. Motor City magic, minus Motown!
Wowzie! Great hearing the original songwriters sing these. I quite like imagining the show ("sounds like a specialty number from some deranged TV variety show.") HEE!
ReplyDeleteLove that morse code horn section on "Farmer John" — a proto Motown sound. To MLE's point—"Big Boy Pete" could be a rousing number from some forgotten Broadway show. On these two decks, Don and Dewey really sound ahead of their time.
ReplyDelete