The Memos, "My Type of Girl" c/w "The Biddy Leg," Memo 34891 (rel. 9/1959)
Today's record is a fresh acquisition. I acquired it in a trade several months ago, but was unable to meet up with the other party until this past Saturday. Thus, I've been jonesin' for this platter--for reasons obvious once you hear it--and am delighted to help kick off your week with some wild rockin' vocal group r&b.
Today's group has a tangled history--even for Black vocal groups. Marv Goldberg reports that they used four names, recorded for four labels, appeared in a primitive early example of roots music exploitation cinema and took whatever route(s) that might lead them to the doorstep of Fame and Fortune, Inc.
The group began in the Bedford-Stuveystant neighborhood in Brooklyn, NY as four high school lads who shared a love of then-major vocal group The Orioles. They modeled their harmonies after that act, but penned their own material. They called themselves The Tune-Toppers, unaware that Jubilee Records had a group with that name. (They learned this when their manager Mack Jones got them signed with that imprint. Oops!)
As The Toppers, they made their first record for Jubilee in 1954; it coupled a downright raunchy rockin' novelty with an elegant ballad. Nothing came of this maiden effort. With new lead vocalist Henry Alston, they switched to King Records and a new name (The Hurricanes). This moniker stuck: they made 10 singles for King from 1955-57, including the fan favorite "Poor Little Dancing Girl."
While at King, they appeared in the sleazy ultra-low-budget movie Rockin' the Blues, which was filmed at a small studio in Harlem. (You can see this ratty rarity HERE.) The great r&b label must have sold enough copies of their singles to justify the quantity of releases, but they didn't promote the records hard enough for them to break into the charts. The Hurricanes moved on to New York-based Skyline Records for one single credited to singer Alston. Without billing, it was a dead-end career move.
Their manager ran into Bill Lasley, up-and-coming music businessman who needed good acts for a label he planned to launch. It was Memo Records, so The Hurricanes became The Memos. Why not? A smaller label might help them stand out in the crowd.
It did, to an extent. Their two singles for Memo were promoted and reviewed. Like all small businesspeople, Lasley had high hopes and put extra effort into getting Memo's singles noticed. He did full-page ads in Billboard (a guarantee of a positive review) and after the group suffered an apostrophe-S crisis as The Memo's on their first 45, the did a best-of-career showing with their next, which you're about to hear.
By this time, The Coasters, with their narrative humorous novelties for Atco Records, provided Black vocal groups with a new template for their sound and style. The Memos embraced this vibe without sounding like the more famous group. They grokked the comedic/bizarre angle to fine effect on two rockin' raw sides that transcend their major reference point.
"My Type of Girl" opens with a snatch of "Dark Eyes" (Ochi Chyornye)," the Russian song. The gnarly tone of the guitar suggests we're in unknown territory. The surreal ode to the singer's unique beloved is invested with a deep rootsy beauty. Some of the best harmony singing heard in this genre happens on this moody, almost melancholy song.
Curious descriptions, sublime harmonies, wicked guitar: this is what it's all about. The first hints of soul music begin around this time, and "My Type of Girl" is an early harbinger of things to come. And then there's the ending, which just
Today's group has a tangled history--even for Black vocal groups. Marv Goldberg reports that they used four names, recorded for four labels, appeared in a primitive early example of roots music exploitation cinema and took whatever route(s) that might lead them to the doorstep of Fame and Fortune, Inc.
The group began in the Bedford-Stuveystant neighborhood in Brooklyn, NY as four high school lads who shared a love of then-major vocal group The Orioles. They modeled their harmonies after that act, but penned their own material. They called themselves The Tune-Toppers, unaware that Jubilee Records had a group with that name. (They learned this when their manager Mack Jones got them signed with that imprint. Oops!)
As The Toppers, they made their first record for Jubilee in 1954; it coupled a downright raunchy rockin' novelty with an elegant ballad. Nothing came of this maiden effort. With new lead vocalist Henry Alston, they switched to King Records and a new name (The Hurricanes). This moniker stuck: they made 10 singles for King from 1955-57, including the fan favorite "Poor Little Dancing Girl."
While at King, they appeared in the sleazy ultra-low-budget movie Rockin' the Blues, which was filmed at a small studio in Harlem. (You can see this ratty rarity HERE.) The great r&b label must have sold enough copies of their singles to justify the quantity of releases, but they didn't promote the records hard enough for them to break into the charts. The Hurricanes moved on to New York-based Skyline Records for one single credited to singer Alston. Without billing, it was a dead-end career move.
Their manager ran into Bill Lasley, up-and-coming music businessman who needed good acts for a label he planned to launch. It was Memo Records, so The Hurricanes became The Memos. Why not? A smaller label might help them stand out in the crowd.
It did, to an extent. Their two singles for Memo were promoted and reviewed. Like all small businesspeople, Lasley had high hopes and put extra effort into getting Memo's singles noticed. He did full-page ads in Billboard (a guarantee of a positive review) and after the group suffered an apostrophe-S crisis as The Memo's on their first 45, the did a best-of-career showing with their next, which you're about to hear.
By this time, The Coasters, with their narrative humorous novelties for Atco Records, provided Black vocal groups with a new template for their sound and style. The Memos embraced this vibe without sounding like the more famous group. They grokked the comedic/bizarre angle to fine effect on two rockin' raw sides that transcend their major reference point.
"My Type of Girl" opens with a snatch of "Dark Eyes" (Ochi Chyornye)," the Russian song. The gnarly tone of the guitar suggests we're in unknown territory. The surreal ode to the singer's unique beloved is invested with a deep rootsy beauty. Some of the best harmony singing heard in this genre happens on this moody, almost melancholy song.
Curious descriptions, sublime harmonies, wicked guitar: this is what it's all about. The first hints of soul music begin around this time, and "My Type of Girl" is an early harbinger of things to come. And then there's the ending, which just
Review Revue: Billboard was the first responder to The Memos' mini-masterpiece with their October 12, 1959 assessment. Whomever reviewed this record was not an r&b afficionado, but they give it a more-or-less thumbs up.
Five days later, Cash Box chimed in. Their reviewer sounds bored and condescending. Though both reviewers claim it's a Coasters soundalike, it really isn't. It's a mid-1960s soul soundalike. Of course, they had no way of knowing that in 1959.
"The Biddy Leg" sounds like Hank Ballard and The Midnighters, whom The Memos no doubt admired. This barnyard wailer has our narrator observe a dance routine borne in the chicken coop of his farm. This celebration of avian innovation gets a wild, strained sax solo and has the group in the background as lead singer Alston takes a solo stand.
Both sides of this single were written by Walter Rhodes, an eccentric r&b soloist who made a jaw-dropping single for Hull Records as The Blonde Bomber. That may be Rhodes as lead guitarist on the A side. He deserves major credit for the success of this stellar single.
Both sides of this single were written by Walter Rhodes, an eccentric r&b soloist who made a jaw-dropping single for Hull Records as The Blonde Bomber. That may be Rhodes as lead guitarist on the A side. He deserves major credit for the success of this stellar single.
This was the group's final record. After five years of hard work and multiple attempts at success, it ended with an ill-planned year-long tour of Canada. The promoters shafted them, never paid them for their performances and left them stranded in a remote province. That was the last straw. Though some members remained in the music biz, including Alston and bass singer Vernon Britton, the rest opted for easier work and, I hope, a better life.
Tomorrow: Black girl group The Parlettes deliver a delightful, sprightly 1964 single for Jubilee Records. Just sheer fun and joy!
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