The Criterions, "Crying The Blues Over You" c/w "Don't Say Goodbye," Cecelia 1010 (rel. 1959)
Today's record is as obscure as yesterday's is well-known. (We're back on familiar ground!) The Criterions would be just a better-than-average teenage white vocal group save for one future star in their ranks: Manhattan Transfer's tenor vocalist Tim Hauser. (He's the middle person in the top row of Criterions in the image above.)
These lads hailed from Belmar, New Jersey and began with a violent moment. In 1956, young Hauser, smitten with the doo-wop sound, attended a concert by Frankie Lymon and The Teenagers. Something went awry and a teenage riot happened. Hauser fled for safe ground and found it backstage at the Asbury Park venue where it all went down.
He found singer Lymon also riding out the storm. They got to talking, and Hauser expressed his love of Black music and his hopes of becoming a singing star. Lymon encouraged him to put a group together and give it a go. This was a life-changing moment for the young man and an act of kindness and brotherhood by Lymon, who might just as well've told him to buzz off.
Hauser followed suit and recruited five other local vocalists. By 1958, the lineup of The Criterions was set and, after much rehearsal and local performances, they began to audition for New York record labels. Rejection after rejection met them; then a small-time producer liked their sound and offered to record them. They recorded an original (one of two songs on today's single) and a cover of The Crests' "My Juanita."
Nobody wanted to issue these two songs. The Criterions had been through a series of member changes, and a big one had to take place. Tim Hauser stepped down as lead singer; a new lead came in and Hauser became first tenor--in other words, the second vocalist in the group's hierarchy.
Now they had a sound that appealed to record companies. Jersey label Arc Records offered them a contract, but they held out for a New York imprint. Cecilia Records, a small-time operation, signed them in 1959. The label had one important perk: their sound engineer was related to famous DJ Alan Freed, who gave today's record plenty of airtime. Not ethical, but we're talking about the music business.
Though "Don't Say Goodbye" was the intended A-side, we're making it the B. "Crying the Blues Over Me" far outshines, with its lo-fi bongo fury, strummed acoustic guitar, rolling piano and a medium beat that's an ideal example of the white doo-wop sound. New lead singer John Mangi tells the complex story of a guy who discovers his girl is depressed and teary--she's worried he might go away from her.
With a primitive tape edit at 1:23 that suggests parts of two takes were Frankensteined together, this is lo-fi at its dodgiest, with the twilight-zone vibe that results from such shenanigans. In other words: it's not your ordinary teen record!
"Don't Say Goodbye" is much better recorded and mastered. It has a sheen that's not on the grubby-yet-effective B-side.
I have a theory that "Crying the Blues..." comes from the group's home rehearsal tapes and thus has that deep basement sound. The crude and amateurish tape edit also attests to non-professional audio.
Here, genuine studio ambience makes a shocking contrast. There's real reverb, room tone and sound balance. It makes a mediocre rockaballad sound like a million bucks. Though I'm a fan of basement recordings, I must admit that this side finds the group in far better form. Their performance is superior to the song, but they sing it with conviction and poise, and I can see this as a radio hit--if just in the Northeast.
The record didn't make the charts, and Hauser sensed the group's end was near. Most of its members had college in their immediate future. They made a follow-up single for Cecelia Records, "I Remain Truly Yours," which got a reissue--in 1965--on Laurie Records. It too failed to register; neither single was mentioned or reviewed in the music press. The Criterions disbanded and four members never made music again. Tommy Picardo and Tim Hauser were true to their art. Hauser formed the expansive pop-jazz quartet The Manhattan Transfer (who included doo-wop in their live act) in 1969 and attained the fame he'd earned as a hard-working vocalist. Picardo worked with singer Jim Croce as producer and composer. It's rare we get such a happy outcome on this blog so cheers to these two fellows who persevered and made something happen despite the odds!
Tomorrow: Roy Acuff, Jr. does Nashville garage, with a song by John D. Loudermilk coupled with a minor-key fuzzer worthy of The Animals--all on a non-hit Hickory Records single of 1966!
Both tracks in their different ways display elements of The Rays' "Silhouettes" and yes, the recordings are so contrasted. I really like the murkiness of the first one and enthusiastically agree with your theory about the rehearsal tapes. I actually dig the effect of that edit spot! There's something tragic to me about that recording. Hopes and dreams...oh the humanity!
ReplyDeleteWhen I acquired this record, I played the A-side and thought, "that's decent enough..." But the B-side spoke to me right away. I'm glad you share my fascination with its wonky wonders. Another five-for-a-dollar wonder!
DeleteIt does seem like "Crying the Blues" is two takes mashed together and feels like it's padded with the same loops near the end, starting at 1:59. I think someone thought those bongos would hide the abrupt transitions but it seems obvious to me. Love "Don't Say Goodbye." Another one of those shoulda been a hit songs. Both these songs are well written—rhyme schemes are simple yet don't feel forced.
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