Bobby & His Orbits, "Felicia" c/w "Bandstand Dancing," Seeco 45-6005 (rel. 10/1958)
Bobby Groccia was a bespectacled young rock ‘n’ roller who made three singles with his band, The Orbits. Said band included his sister, accordionist Mary Jane Groccia—a rare sight in ‘50s teen music, bassist Joey DiBarltoli and drummer Joseph Boccia. No one in the group was older than 17 when they made this platter, according to an article from the Long Islander of October 3, 1958, seen below.
Their label, Seeco Records, put out two 45s by them, this being their first 1958 release. It seems to have gotten a second wind, and Seeco reissued it with a new catalog number in 1960. Today we'll hear the first edition. The only difference is the catalog number. Local demand might have caused the label to give the single a second life.
Bobby Grayson, as the singer called himself, made a delightful debut with today’s twin-spin. The tendency to tamper with teen sounds hadn’t spread to the smaller labels, and they let Bobby and His Orbits do their thing without “improvements.” Let us now dig these pure, heartfelt performances and songs.
"Felicia" is a winning item with a sound halfway between Sun Records and Ritchie Valens. Bobby Groccia's voice has a pleasing sound and he's full of energy and good intentions as he sings (and whistles) this li'l mover. It has a Southwestern sound, though it was recorded in New York. Perhaps it’s that accordion. Its chunky shuffle is most appealing, with that squeeze-box huffing along in tandem with the drummer, who plays his kit with brushes.
The solo consists of Bobby whistlin’ away—he’s quite good at it and makes a potential malady an asset. He takes a rudimentary guitar solo for the second break, followed by a stop-start coda that’s crude but effective. What’s not to love?
Couplet of choice: "She even loves me when we're on the outs/and asks my friends as to my whereabouts."
Couplet of choice: "She even loves me when we're on the outs/and asks my friends as to my whereabouts."
Billboard was alone in their review of this endearing DIY teen rocker. They favored the B-side, which features a daring introduction that thrills me any time I hear it.
The article mentioned above is a classic example of how the phenomenon of teenage rock 'n' roll broke out all over America and how fame was often regional rather than national in the 1950s. It took money and focus to break through to the mainstream.
"Bandstand Dancing" is one for the ages. It opens with a cross-rhythm that at first sounds like it's all fallen apart. But once the tricky slow-grind beat kicks in, it's got a Tex-Mex vibe. It sounds mournful at first, as Bobby sings “this is the end of bandstand dancing.” Was some legislation passed? It turns out it’s about American Bandstand, the mega-popular teen music show hosted by Dick Clark.
As the tempo hots up, with that accordion pumpin’ away and the drummer getting sweaty, the effect is as folky as rocky.The pace picks up fast as Bobby sings about the teen dancers on American Bandstand; his observations on the awkward behavior of those kids is often quite funny; the song has some of the loopiest couplets heard in any 1950s rock 'n' roll record.
I love the sound of this side, with the accordion amongst all the acoustic instruments, that cross-beat rhythm and Groccia's most likable voice. The effect is as folky as rocky.
This stew of disparate musical elements shouldn’t work, but it succeeds beyond anyone’s expectations. The song’s switch from requiem to, if you will, rockquiem is surprising and endearing and Bobby’s sincere rendition of his detailed song is winning. I love records with such a rough edge—they deliver the heart of their performers’ spirit and don’t worry about being perfect. We can’t do perfect. It’s our imperfections that make us human beings. Why not celebrate it, as these fine folks have done?
Bobby and The Orbits' follow-up for Seeco was killed by a horrible pressing-plant mistake. Its B-side is pressed off-center on most surviving copies. That did the group in for the time being. Grayson re-emerged with another quirky single, cut in 1963 for NY label Jamco. Grayson tries for a Dion and The Belmonts sound with the same homegrown results—although the accordion is gone.
I wonder what became of Bobby Groccia after 1963? I hope he had a happy life and looked back on his three-record career with fondness.
Tomorrow: Davey Holt and The Hubcaps continue this teen rockin' vibe with a scarce 1958 platter from United Artists. On the let's-be-Elvis side of the street with plenty of breathless swagger!
Love these! Simple and direct Valens/Holley-adjacent sounds and singing. It's amazing that in the '50s a band could play a W.T. Grant department store AND sell out a local record store. Also amazing that they printed the teen members' addresses in this article. What an innocent time the 1950s were.
ReplyDeleteI agree: this is top-tier teen rock 'n' roll. And, yes, so often in newspaper articles from this era and earlier, home addresses are printed as a matter of record. I guess stalkers didn't exist in 1958 Long Island...?
DeleteWonderful tracks! That first track is like a structure collage of several other tunes of that time ("Boney Maronie" etc.). LOVE the "non-solo break" and the twangy guitar outro. Very personable unselfconscious vocals.
ReplyDeleteTotal agreement here. This li'l record is a real sleeper...I'm surprised it isn't held in higher regard in the record-collecting world.
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