Louis Jordan, "Rock Doc" c/w "Morning Light," Mercury 71052X45 (rel. 28 Jan 1957)
I began work on the first choice for today's single, but found I didn't like the record. Its arrangements failed its performer and it wasn't of much interest even as a failed experiment. I'll reconsider it for the futre. So...Louis Jordan to the rescue with a very 1957 pop r&b offering: a spoof on psychotherapy coupled with a chaotic calypson bopper!
Jordan was a pop star in the 1940s, when his Tympany Five delivered a prototype of rock 'n' roll on a series of big hits for Decca Records. In 1957, Jordan perhaps realized his hand in the birth of modern vernacular music and sought to stake his claim. Chuck Berry named him as an inspiration; the basic shock-and-awe style of r&b owed much to Jordan's zany, playful approach. Mercury Records was game, and a series of teen-centric singles came and went without much notice. Jordan was not matinee-idol material, and in middle age, couldn't complete with a Clyde McPhatter or Larry Williams.
Consumate showman, Jordan plunged in with 100% conviction, and the results are invigorating and colorful. "Rock Doc" ought to have inspired some white rock 'n' roll cover versions. This jump blues about a guy who explores another mid-decade fad, psychoanalysis (the title of a later comic-book series by the infamous EC imprint, after the Comics Code had scuttled all their horror titles). Louis is skeptical of the shrink's motives and decides to guide the therapy process as he best knows how.
Some witty lines distinguish this mover, which realizes "a man's gotta wail or lose control." Jordan's band is in fine form as they lay down a blues chord progression (which must have seemed child's play to them). Their drummer gets extra credit for their drive and feeling.
Jordan was a pop star in the 1940s, when his Tympany Five delivered a prototype of rock 'n' roll on a series of big hits for Decca Records. In 1957, Jordan perhaps realized his hand in the birth of modern vernacular music and sought to stake his claim. Chuck Berry named him as an inspiration; the basic shock-and-awe style of r&b owed much to Jordan's zany, playful approach. Mercury Records was game, and a series of teen-centric singles came and went without much notice. Jordan was not matinee-idol material, and in middle age, couldn't complete with a Clyde McPhatter or Larry Williams.
Consumate showman, Jordan plunged in with 100% conviction, and the results are invigorating and colorful. "Rock Doc" ought to have inspired some white rock 'n' roll cover versions. This jump blues about a guy who explores another mid-decade fad, psychoanalysis (the title of a later comic-book series by the infamous EC imprint, after the Comics Code had scuttled all their horror titles). Louis is skeptical of the shrink's motives and decides to guide the therapy process as he best knows how.
Some witty lines distinguish this mover, which realizes "a man's gotta wail or lose control." Jordan's band is in fine form as they lay down a blues chord progression (which must have seemed child's play to them). Their drummer gets extra credit for their drive and feeling.
Cash Box could be stick-in-the-mud about unusual songs, and they didn't think much of "Rock Doc" but deemed it suitable for dancing.
The A-side was an entry in the musical craze of 1957: calypso. Much of this pop-calypso is mega-cringy now. Robert Mitchum's LP Calypso Just So, example given. It was a bit late for blackface, which had its last hurrah in some of the British R&B-flavored groups like Manfred Mann. We're fortunate to have Louis Jordan's energetic take on this pop phenomenon.
He lets out an opening volley of linguistic nonsense worthy of a Slim Gaillard. This gives way to a two-chord calypso bopper swathed in studio reverb. It's a bright variant on "The Banana Boat Song" that was co-written by future soul producer Jerry Ragovoy.
Highlight: a blazing sax break with Jordan and his uncredited harmony voice doing a fervent chant that evokes a spirit of psychedelia (which didn't yet exist, and would have been laughed at by these seasoned cats). Trivial though this musical sub-genre is, "Morning Light" is a fine vehicle for Jordan's appealing, elastic voice and his band is always a pleasure to hear.
He lets out an opening volley of linguistic nonsense worthy of a Slim Gaillard. This gives way to a two-chord calypso bopper swathed in studio reverb. It's a bright variant on "The Banana Boat Song" that was co-written by future soul producer Jerry Ragovoy.
Highlight: a blazing sax break with Jordan and his uncredited harmony voice doing a fervent chant that evokes a spirit of psychedelia (which didn't yet exist, and would have been laughed at by these seasoned cats). Trivial though this musical sub-genre is, "Morning Light" is a fine vehicle for Jordan's appealing, elastic voice and his band is always a pleasure to hear.
This was the third of six singles for Mercury. I hope to find them all; none of them are spendy. Hope these two sides brighten your day!
Tomorrow: The Sa-Shays, a Black girl group with many names, entertain with two gritty 1961 sides for the Zen label outta California.
What's wonderful about these two fun songs is that these guys are professionals who have been recording for years and know exactly what they want this to sound like. Not a note or word out of place. I wonder if that exclamatory 'WHHAAAT?' references something culturally in the zeitgeist on the radio or TV of the time.
ReplyDeleteHi Bill! I think that was part of his persona-Jack Benny-esque expressions of surprise at the antics of his band. I've seen live footage where Jordan does that take on other songs.
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