The last word

Never would have guessed it was the BeeGees from more than 50 years ago who'd capture this moment in history so well. 

I don’t care if I ever get back

If you’re counting musician deaths, 2016 was a miserable year. It started with David Bowie in early January, followed by (deep breath) Prince, George Martin, George Michael, Leonard Cohen, Merle Haggard, Glen Frey, Paul Kantner, Maurice White, Greg Lake, Keith Emerson and Leon Russell, and I guess we can throw Frank Sinatra Jr. in as well.

It seemed like an onslaught at the time, but insurance actuary charts which measure mortality rates of a sample population will likely validate that 2016 – given the ages of the performers and for some, their bad habits and general health backgrounds – was not an outlier. But numbers aside, it’s quite a list. The horror show that was 2020 gave us a similar Grim Reaper appointment book – this time for seven members of the Baseball Hall of Fame – all but one icons of 70s era baseball.

Second baseman Joe Morgan, the driving force behind Cincinnati Big Red Machine, was twice voted MVP. Bob Gibson of the St. Louis Cardinals was for many years the most dominant pitcher in baseball. His teammate Lou Brock was a speedy leadoff hitter who stole more than 900 bases. Al Kaline, Mr. Tiger, was an American League All-Star 18 times. Knuckleball master Phil Niekro pitched from 1964 to 1987. Whitey Ford started 22 World Series games for the Yankees. Tom Seaver, one of history’s greatest pitchers, won three Cy Young Awards.

Dick Allen

And let’s not forget others who passed on without making the Hall. Mighty mite Jim Wynn hit more than 30 home runs three times. Don Larsen pitched a perfect game in the 1956 World Series. Journeyman infielder Horace Clarke unjustly symbolized the futility of the Yankees in the late 60s and early 70s. And my personal fave, the ultra-cool Dick Allen, with his muttonchop sideburns and reputation for being “difficult” – actually just the easy interpretation back then of an outspoken black man playing in a generally racist northern city (Philadelphia). Allen was an amazing home run hitter and will likely be voted into the Hall later this year.

I don’t watch much baseball anymore. The games are too long. Game strategy is dictated by empirical analysis. Teams are owned by conglomerates and private equity groups looking to practice McKinsey-styled business tactics like slashing payroll and closing down minor league teams. And don’t get me started on those stupid pajama pants. For me, major league baseball’s past is the anchor that’s kept it from drifting into irrelevancy. These days, that anchor is feeling a lot lighter.

 

 

 

A history of popular music as told by 100 one-hit wonders (part 8)

30. 5000 Volts –•– I’m on Fire — (Peaked: December 13, 1975 at # 26)

Two guitarists in matching satin bell-bottoms and a singer named Tina Charles who pushes everyone out of the way and belts "I'm On Fire" as if she were. A one-hit wonder twofer, as the song plays off the riff of “Black is Black” by Los Bravos (#4, October 1966). Somehow this song wasn’t a bigger hit. 

29. Buffalo Springfield –•– For What It’s Worth — (Peaked: March 25, 1967 at # 7)        

A strong case can be made for Buffalo Springfield as the American Beatles. Two brilliant, if mercurial, singer/songwriter/instrumentalist triple threats. A third partner who led a pioneering country-rock band. A catalogue that covered an eclectic range of styles and a reputation as a dynamic live band. Unlike the Beatles, who understood the nature of band dynamics, the Springfield splintered pretty quickly: a little more than a year after "For What It's Worth" they were done.  

28. Anita Ward –•– Ring My Bell — (Peaked: June 30, 1979 at # 1)          

Not a song about the Avon Lady. 

27. The Monotones –•– Book of Love — (Peaked: April 21, 1958 at # 5)

The Monotones were six kids from a Newark housing project, one of whom couldn’t get the Pepsodent jingle out of his head (You’ll wonder where the yellow went/when you brush your teeth with Pepsodent), so he wrote and structured "Book of Love" around it. 

26. Carl Perkins –•– Blue Suede Shoes — (Peaked: May 19, 1956 at # 2)

Having once owned a pair of gray suede Hush Puppies, I can tell you that they get scuffed easily. And forget about wearing them in the rain or snow. "Blue Suede Shoes," which Carl Perkins wrote, was the first million-selling country song to cross over to both the R&B and pop charts. When Elvis Presley covered the song, first cut on his first album, it became what passes for a rock & roll classic. 

25. Hurricane Smith –•– Oh, Babe, What Would You Say? — (Peaked: February 17, 1973 at # 3)  

Our kitchen radio was locked on 1130 WNEW AM and it was always on, so even as a kid I knew my way around the “Great American Song Book” – although back then it was only a bunch of old records that nobody but WNEW played. Its deejays were dismissive of Top 40 radio, but occasionally the station would allow an exception like "Oh Babe" into the palace. As someone who knew the lyrics to Barbra Streisand’s “Secondhand Rose” when he was eight years old, I was probably predisposed to liking the jaunty “Oh Babe” right from the start. Hurricane Smith’s real name was Norman Smith, an Abbey Road engineer who worked on all the Beatles’ sessions up to Rubber Soul, then produced three very trippy early Pink Floyd albums. 

24. Debby Boone –•– You Light Up My Life — (Peaked: October 15, 1977 at # 1)  

Debby Boone was two years younger than me (and born at Hackensack Hospital!) but projected 15 years older. "You Light Up My Life", sat flat and lifeless at #1 for ten weeks at the end of 1977. Its presence threw a wet blanket over the radio, the same way Debby’s father Pat did in the 50s with his Wonder Bread covers of black R&B like “Blueberry Hill” and “Tutti Fruitti.”  

23. Brian Wilson –•– Caroline, No — (Peaked: April 30, 1966 at # 32)

The story goes that when Capitol Records executives first heard “Pet Sounds” – an album ostensibly by the Beach Boys but more of a solo Brian Wilson record if anything – they had no idea how to market it. Where were the songs about girls and summer fun? Why were these songs all so downhearted? Convinced they had a teenage version of Frank Sinatra’s bittersweet bummer “September of My Years” on their hands, they considered releasing “Pet Sounds” as a Brian Wilson record (hence this single listing Wilson as the artist) before doing an about-face and crediting the band instead – then sank any chance it had to succeed by putting out a Beach Boys greatest hits record a month later to compete against it. By Beach Boys sales standards, “Pet Sounds” and "Caroline No" tanked. Today, “Pet Sounds” is generally accepted as one of the great rock albums; the elegiac “Caroline No,” ending with the midnight sound of dogs barking at a passing train, is one of Wilson’s best. 

22. Mike Oldfield –•– Tubular Bells — (Peaked: May 11, 1974 at # 7)                    

This single, edited down from its original, album-side length of 48 minutes, was written and recorded by 19-year-old Mike Oldfield (who played all the instruments). When Richard Branson heard a demo, he signed Oldfield to his new Virgin Records label. Thanks to its use in The Exorcist, the record took off and provided Branson with capital that helped launch an empire that today includes a space tourism outfit. 

21. Nena –•– 99 Luftballons — (Peaked: March 3, 1984 at # 2)

20. World Party –•– Ship of Fools (Save Me from Tomorrow) — (Peaked: April 25, 1987 at # 27) 

The conservative policies of Reagan and Thatcher, and a growing gap between the wealthy and everybody else, triggered a brief blast of political protest music (“Rockin’ In the Free World” by Neil Young, “Born in the USA” by Bruce Springsteen, “Land of Confusion” by Genesis) that included "99 Luftballoons" and "Ship of Fools." The former was an anti-nuclear song recorded in English and German in the face of rising international tensions. The latter was more of a temperature check of humankind. Thirty-three years later, the patient hasn’t flatlined, but it’s close.

 

 

Hey, look what’s on television! Loving (1970)

“Loving” falls into place within a long line of literary works (from Allen Ginsburg, John Cheever and John Updike, among many) and films (like “The Ice Storm” and “The Stepford Wives”) painting sinister portraits of life in suburbia.

Darker than any of Dante’s nine circles of Hell, every bi-level and split-level -- all seemingly located in Connecticut -- hides a pit of desperate drinking, screwing, social climbing and scandal. In “Loving,” George Segal plays a freelance commercial artist burdened with the educated white-guy, middle-class blues: endless work deadlines, conflicted feelings about commercialism vs. art, a cramped house his family has outgrown, an affair with a younger woman in the city. He lies to clients, is a serial flirter and one drink always leads to a dozen more. It’s a life skidding off the Merritt Parkway until the inevitable crash occurs during a neighbor’s cocktail party.

Segal’s character acts like such a jerky frat boy that it’s impossible to muster any sympathy for him – why is he cheating when he’s married to a doting Eve-Marie Saint for Christ’s sake – and when he reaches the embarrassing end of his downward spiral, it feels like redemption for the viewer.

The end comes at a December cocktail party (suburban parties are also pivotal to the plots of Cheever’s “The Swimmer” and “The Ice Storm”) that seems to include most of the characters in the movie, including the girlfriend from the city and another girl Segal’s character tried to hit up earlier. Feeling no pain and rejected by the girlfriend when he corners her in a pantry, he leaves the party with a neighbor who’s been dropping hints about her availability. After a quick encounter in a car backseat – we see their silhouettes behind a snow-covered back windshield and the exhaust from the idling engine – they move on to where it’s warmer, a playhouse belonging to their host’s daughter. What they’ve forgotten is that their creepy host has closed-circuit cameras throughout his property, including the playhouse, connected to his television.

When a bored partygoer starts going through the channels, guess what he comes across? Drunken, half-dressed groping in a playpen, surrounded by stuffed animals as nursery rhyme songs play on a child’s record player (providing a soundtrack of double-entendres: “Did you ever see a lassie go this way and that way” and “pussy in the well”).

Like the partygoers who gather around the television, I unexpectedly came across this scene a million years ago on the Channel 7 4:30 weekday movie at my wife’s parent’s house (we weren’t married yet). Thankfully, her father left the room a couple of minutes earlier (I don’t think he was watching the movie but had fallen asleep on the couch) and I watched alone, dumbfounded. It’s cringeworthy and compelling at the same time.

Two other points about this film. Sterling Hayden channels Captain Ahab in look and attitude during his brief role as a conservative Midwestern trucking magnate building a new headquarters in Manhattan. When Segal visits the construction site to finalize a deal, it’s the skeletal beginnings of the World Trade Center where the scene takes place. As they speak, with the Brooklyn Bridge framed in the background, it’s a reminder that some folks had a spectacular view from their offices.

The film’s director, Irvin Kershner, started his career making quirky, independent dramas like Loving. Within ten years his career had taken a complete about-face and he was directing “The Empire Strikes Back,” “Never Say Never Again” and “RoboCop 2.”

Loving gets some airplay on TCM usually when the channel features a George Segal retrospective, which often includes two other movies where he suffers with the educated, white-guy middle-class blues: “Blume In Love” and “California Split.”

 

 

A history of popular music, as told by 100 one-hit wonders (part 7) 

40. Doris Troy –•– Just One Look — (Peaked: July 27, 1963 at # 10)

Doris Troy cowrote "Just One Look," so her payday came 15 years after it charted with Linda Ronstadt’s cover, followed by its use in Mazda and Pepsi commercials. Troy later became an in-demand backup vocalist, singing on Pink Floyd’s “Dark Side of the Moon” and the Stones’ “You Can’t Always Get What You Want,” among many other early 70s rock stuff. 

39. Mason Williams –•– Classical Gas — (Peaked: August 3, 1968 at # 2)                            

"Classical Gas" won three Grammy Awards for Mason Williams, a moonlighting writer for the Smothers Brothers Show. On The Tonight Show, Albert Brooks performed a “tribute to the animal kingdom” during which he frantically held up nature books and stuffed animals trying to keep pace with “Classical Gas.” Unfortunately, it didn’t survive to make it to YouTube. 

38. Julie London –•– Cry Me a River — (Peaked: December 17, 1955 at # 9)                       

Quite sure this is the only song on this list, maybe ever, that includes the word “plebeian” in its lyrics. 

37. The Honeycombs –•– Have I the Right? — (Peaked: November 14, 1964 at # 5)         

36. The Tornados –•– Telstar — (Peaked: December 22, 1962 at # 1)     

Often working in a makeshift studio in his apartment, or flat as the Brits like to call it, Joe Meek built a reputation as a pioneer in sound recording, developing everyday studio tricks like overdubbing, reverb and sampling. His records had a unique sound: the hammering-heart bass drum and broken-spring guitar of "Have I The Right" and the instrumental "Telstar" with its futuristic keyboards and rocket-blast sound effects (and the first British rock record to reach #1 in the US). But Meek suffered with bipolar disorder and schizophrenia; was being blackmailed at a time when homosexuality was a crime in the UK; and was convinced Buddy Holly was communicating with him from beyond the grave. When another songwriter accused Meek of plagiarizing “Telstar,” he fatally shot his landlady, then himself, in 1967. The “Telstar” issue was resolved in his favor three weeks later. 

35. Timmy Thomas –•– Why Can’t We Live Together — (Peaked: February 10, 1973 at # 3)

Radio deejays who prided themselves on their ability to “hit the post” – talking over the instrumental introduction of a song and timing it to end as the singing began – had a broad canvas to work with on "Why Can't We Live Together" a record that began with 1:30 of journeyman R&B singer Timmy Thomas playing the organ with some sort of metronome keeping the beat – enough time to give the weather, news and, if it was a winter storm, every school closing in the tri-state area. Philosophically, lyrically and vocally “Why Can’t We Live Together” feels like everything Marvin Gaye wrote and sang during his “relevant” phase in the early 70s. 

34. The Youngbloods –•– Get Together — (Peaked: September 6, 1969 at # 5)                 

The Youngbloods moved from hip Boston to hipper San Francisco and released the groovy "Get Together" in 1967. The song faced a lot of competition from similarly themed Summer of Love songs, like “All You Need Is Love” and “San Francisco (Wear Some Flowers in Your Hair)” and peaked at #62. The song began getting airplay again in 1969 when it was being used in a popular radio public service announcement and this time it clicked. Two years later the very 1967 raga guitar solo still worked. 

33. Preston Epps –•– Bongo Rock — (Peaked: June 29, 1959 at # 14) 

You proved your musical chops in elementary school by banging out the drum solo to “Wipe Out” on your desktop. Being able to keep time to "Bongo Rock" put you in the master class.  

32. Neal Hefti –•– Batman Theme — (Peaked: March 12, 1966 at # 35)                 

Almost moronically simple and memorable. 

31. Billy Swan –•– I Can Help — (Peaked: November 23, 1974 at # 1)

Nashville musician Billy Swan sounded a lot like Ringo Starr, leading people to at first believe this was a solo Beatles record. Further supporting the misconception was the song’s message, which made it a country cousin to “With A Little Help From My Friends.”

 

 

 

A history of popular music, as told by 100 one-hit wonders (part 6)

49. Santa Esmeralda –•– Don’t Let Me Be Misunderstood — (Peaked: February 18, 1978 at # 15)        

The Citizen Kane of disco records.

48. The Church –•– Under the Milky Way — (Peaked: June 18, 1988 at # 24)                     

Emo classic with a secret connection to the LA singer-songwriter scene of the 70s. It was produced by Waddy Wachtel (Linda Ronstadt’s guitarist) and Greg Ladanyi (who produced several Jackson Browne albums); the drummer is Russ Kunkel (Jackson Browne and Crosby and Nash’s bands, and the former Mr. Carly Simon). The “bagpipe” solo was a bow played on guitar, then fed into an electronic keyboard.

47. Randy Newman –•– Short People — (Peaked: January 28, 1978 at # 2)          

46. Loudon Wainwright III –•– Dead Skunk — (Peaked: March 31, 1973 at # 16)               

Randy Newman and Loudon Wainwright III came from storied families (Newman had three uncles who wrote Hollywood film scores; Wainwright’s father was a journalist and editor-in-chief of Life magazine) and from the start, both were cordoned off into the “clever artist with a cult following” category. The subject matter of these two songs was universal enough to give each a major hit record, the only two of their long careers.

45. The Penguins –•– Earth Angel — (Peaked: February 5, 1955 at # 8)                                

When WOR-FM changed from underground rock to oldies, it introduced the new format by playing its top 500 songs of all-time (and at that point, “all time” only meant about 15 years). Figuring my musical education was more important, I faked being ill so I could stay home from school to listen. The top two were disappointing because I’d never heard of either “In The Still of the Night” by the Five Satins or "Earth Angel" before, but looking back they made perfect sense, soulful R&B ballads that provided a soundtrack for 50s teenagers to slow dance or make out to. Years later, when WNEW-FM offered its own top 500 of all-time, with the inevitable top two of “Stairway to Heaven” and “Won’t Get Fooled Again” – that was much more disappointing.

44. Harry Simeone Chorale –•– The Little Drummer Boy — (Peaked: January 12, 1959 at # 13)

Christmas music isn’t supposed to be haunting, but "The Little Drummer Boy" kind of scared me as a kid, with the hypnotic drone “drumbeat” underneath the choir. As peaceful as stepping outside from a noisy family gathering on Christmas Eve into the cold dark.

43. Reunion –•– Life Is a Rock (But the Radio Rolled Me) — (Peaked: November 16, 1974 at #8)

42. Pete Wingfield –•– Eighteen with a Bullet — (Peaked: November 29, 1975 at # 15)

In the time it takes for "Life Is A Rock" to unroll, the names of more than 125 singers, bands, producers, record labels, deejays and dance crazes fly by, keeping Billboard subscribers and the nerds who collected the weekly radio station surveys busy for weeks deciphering it (and an idea later co-opted, with all the fun removed, by Billy Joel in “We Didn’t Start the Fire.”) Pete Wingfield was a British recording session keyboard player with a white-guy Afro and remarkable vocal range whose moment of glory was "Eighteen With A Bullet" – a doo wop homage that used music business terms as metaphors for a romance.

41. Zager and Evans –•– In the Year 2525 — (Peaked: July 12, 1969 at # 1)                         

"In the Year 2525" – not to forget its pompously parenthetical sub-title, Exordium & Terminus – stayed at #1 for six weeks through the summer of 1969 – making it the most successful one-hit wonder record ever. Although the lyrics weren’t much more imaginative in describing a dystopian future than your average issue of DC Comics’ Kamandi, it was nominated for a Hugo, the science fiction literary version of an Oscar. 

 

Hey, look what’s finally on TV! C.C. and Company (1970)

Joe Namath’s first movie role isn’t a travesty. He has the amiable laid-back vibe you get when non-actors wind up with major movie roles (Willie Nelson, the Beatles) and not much in the way of dialogue (or at least many lines of dialogue strung together) so there’s no need for any emotional heavy lifting.

However, having finally sat through all of C.C. and Company for perhaps the first time confirmed that the first five minutes of the movie are its high point. Namath, playing the cleanest-cut gang member to ever grace a motorcycle movie, pretends to be grocery shopping while actually making a sandwich by stealing food from the shelves (and resealing packages as he goes along – the golden age of product tampering). Joe washes down his sandwich with a stolen pint of milk, then helps himself to a package of Twinkies.

From that point forward, C.C. and Company plays like an R-rated Elvis movie, with Namath as the loner with a chip on his shoulder but a heart of gold, quick with his fists and in making time with the gals. He even gets a cool Elvis character name, C.C. Ryder. And not unlike most Elvis movies, C.C. and Company ends with a climactic motorcycle race because there’s always some big car race/moment of truth where Elvis redeems himself in the eyes of his female costar and wipes the smirk off the face of his male competitor.

The movie was written by Mr. Ann-Margret, Roger Smith, no doubt in an effort to jumpstart his wife’s lagging career. According to IMDB, her last role before C.C. and Company was a guest spot on The Lucy Show (the one where Desi Jr. thinks she’s coming on to him after she shows an interest in a song he wrote, easily one of the longest half-hours in television history). If the idea was to start her movie comeback, why not harken back to Ann-Margret’s best – and already five years ago at this point – cinematic effort, Viva Las Vegas?

So any resemblance to an Elvis movie seems intentional, but there’s no way Presley would have signed on for C.C. and Company. There’s beer guzzling, disrespect for authority, a biker chick skinny-dipping, a couple of blurry nude biker asses and Ann-Margret telling a biker to fuck off. And not that Roger Smith would have welcomed Elvis anyway, as the King and the then-single Ann-Margret had a major thing going during the filming of Viva Las Vegas. Namath, at the time one of the best-known and recognizable people in America, got the call.

After their not-so-cute first meeting (Namath steps in to stop two of his motorcycle buddies from raping Ann-Margret when her limo breaks down in the desert), he quits the gang to court her. They hit a dance club, and to compare Namath with a quarterback contemporary, his dance moves are strictly Johnny Unitas – he stays in the pocket and doesn’t move around much. Ann-Margret, on the other hand, only seems to dance at one speed, a hair-whipping frenzy. Afterwards we cut to the two of them rolling around in a dark room, where it’s safe to say that Namath isn’t wearing his knee brace. Happy to be a Giants fan in 1970, with boring Fran Tarkenton at quarterback.

That’s followed by the “falling in love” montage as they feed ducks and ride a pedal boat as “Today: The Love Theme from C.C. and Company” (according to the credits) and sung by Miss Margret provides a suitable soundtrack. (I’m reasonably sure this isn’t the song Desi Jr. wrote for her). The rest of the movie includes several scenes of the motorcycle gang – in the best biker movie tradition – generally behaving like the monkeys in 2001: A Space Odyssey. There’s an endless moto-cross race with lots of riders wiping out and the big bike race/duel to the death at the end, Namath vs. his former gang.

For as many times as I tried to watch C.C. and Company, I probably did myself a favor by going to bed after the sandwich scene.

Hey, look what’s finally on TV! C.C. and Company used to air often on the CBS 11:30 movie on Friday and Saturday night. It would have taken a Herculean effort to stay up until 1 AM, with commercials, to watch the whole thing. Fittingly, TCM aired it recently late on a Saturday night.