ILL-USTRATED SONGS #50 - YOUR RECORD LABEL SUCKS! It's FELLATIO and WAYNE KELLY

Back in 1966, there wasn't free porn on the Internet. There wasn't even an Internet (so you either had to buy records, or shoplift and then try to tell the judge "Music should be FREE!"). 

Pubic hair wasn't in men's magazines, unless men put it there while wanking in a public toilet stall. 

There was no Dr. David Reuben or Dr. Ruth, and Frank Zappa had yet to declare that rock music had contributed to oral sex, or vice versa. In fact, Lenny Bruce died in August of 1966, from, as Phil Spector said, "an overdose...of POLICE." He had been hounded for, among other things, using the word "cocksucker" on stage. He shocked a lot of people by declaring that this was not a perversion, but something he'd expect his lady to do for him.

Only, "if I'm being honest," in 1966 "nice girls" didn't do it, and not even sluts named Kardashian. John Lennon sang "Please please me...like I please you," meaning...if I lick pussy, why not suck my dick? (Yes, that IS what that song was about). 

 

If people wanted to read a "dirty book," 1966 was not a great year for it. Dirty stories about some dirty man, and his clinging wife who didn't understand...had to use euphemisms. Even the stuff in adult bookstores had to be careful, and four-letter-words were NOT generally allowed. (The Fugs, let's remember, got their name from what Norman Mailer had to use when he wrote "Naked and the Dead").  The kinky alternative was the "case history" books from various people with a PhD to their credit. People bought Kinsey. If they were daring, Kraft-Ebing and "Psychopathia Sexualis" (a tome referenced by Lenny Bruce). 

But how many knew what the hell the medical words were? Cunnilinguus? Fellatio? And so it was, that a small record label in Philadelphia managed to get away with calling itself FELLATIO RECORDS. This was a time when even "under the country" dirty records, including ones from Redd Foxx, Belle Barth and Pearl Williams couldn't even get away with using the clean words! (Pearl's choice of euphemism for vagina was "knish." She barely got away with singing "By the sea, by the sea, by the C-U-N-T.") But I digress.

Few people bought Wayne Kelly's less-than-inspired doo-wop song (the flip side of "Black Magic" but sorry, "Black Magic" doesn't matter here). Probably none of them thought they were getting a "sexy" song, and probably thought Fellatio and Acappella were the same sing. Actually, most people who sing acapella should try fellatio instead. 

To its credit, Fellatio, which probably didn't last long enough to release even a half-dozen singles, had a few artists with more suggestive names than Wayne Kelly and The El Caminos. They had The Infatuators and The Love Larks. But...like those bad lounge records with sexy album covers, if it's not in the groove, the vinyl ain't gonna move. It'll just sit until it gets remaindered at half price. Or as a loss leader for a buck. Or ten cents if it's a single. And that really sucks! 

Today? Hell, you can go online and see all the sucking you want. You can go to eBay and order a dildo. And on vacation, you can order sucking candy not merely in candy cane form, but shaped like a "willie." Come to Blackpool, and rock...

This isn't a particularly great copy of "Darling Can't We Talk" but, in the case of 99% of all the doo wop shit that some very aging morons hunt for online or in person, it might sound better with a few more scratches than less. It ends abruptly, but Fellatio often does. 

DARLING...on FELLATIO... download or listen online

ILL-USTRATED SONGS #49 "I Like Germany" Sapristi, Christie, Who Doesn't??

 

Sapristi! When you're a middle-aged middle-of-the-road singer trying to squeeze Euros from the EU, you do what you can. That includes pretty propaganda songs, even about a country that tried to conquer the world twice in the 20th Century, caused millions of dollars in damages, murdered millions upon millions of people (in their own country) as well as millions trying to save the world from their insane racism. 

But...LET'S NOT TALK ABOUT THE WAR(S). As Michael Flanders liked to say, you can say anything you want about the Germans, and who doesn't, but that was a fine song, (the National Anthem), "German German Overalls." 

Know Tony Christie? What last name does that represent? Never mind, he was born Anthony Fitzgerald, and he damn well wasn't going to make a career out of reprising Harry Lauder songs, or trying to make everyone cry with "Danny Boy." His career took off in the 70's when he sang about American cities: "Las Vegas" and "Is This the Way to Amarillo?" Well, it was the way to get people to care about just another guy no different from Al Martino, Paul Anka or Vic Damone. 

There was a limit to just how much USA patronizing his home country could stand, though. In 1976, his hits not coming too quickly, he offered "The Queen of the Mardi Gras" -- hoping to represent the United Kingdom in the annual horrible Eurovision show. He didn't quite make it. And, no, America didn't jump at the chance to have a Brit from Sheffield sing a Louisiana song for them. 

As no less an authority than Wikipedia will tell you, "Although his popularity waned in his native England through most of the 1980s and 1990s, he maintained a successful singing career in continental Europe during this period. This was especially so in Germany." That might be a grand reason to do for the Germans what Eric Idle did for the Chinese. 

Eric Idle's 'I Like Chinese" is really not as humorous as Tony's ridiculous ode, "Germany." As Randy Newman did with "I Love L.A.," but not taking it seriously, Tony recites some lists of great things about Germany. Somehow he left out antiSemitism, Merkel destroying her culture with greedy moronic thugs pouring over the border, and old fashioned Germany stupidity via Covidiots refusing to wear masks (and protesting en masse, which is something even Florida's vast army of assholes wouldn't have done). 

Oh well. Despite what they did (and the Italians the Japanese) we try to forgive if not forget. Yes, it's a bit strange that the Germans got behind Hitler the way they did, and loved him for scapegoating the Jews the way he did. But then again, we have Trump, who has millions and millions of jeering, violent, nasty followers who love how he scapegoated the Mexicans and is so obviously into White Supremacy.

"If I'm Being Honest," this wonderful tune "Germany" is hardly a new song. It was simply new to ME, having discovered it while pawing through Tony's albums, looking for the one that had a cover version of a song by a friend of mine. Frankly, "Germany" was the real prize. 

"Wonderful cities! Nice people! Good beer! Believe it not, I like it a lot -- when I'm here!

I like to be --- in GERMANY  --- being here means every time something very special to me! Whether Hamburg or Frankfurst, Cologne or Berlin, all the lovely places I've been! I always meet nice people...everywhere...AND THAT IS WHY I'M FLYING HIGH!"  

Good lord. That's not pandering. Panzering...subtle as a German tank.

To say something nice about Tony, he's a reasonable looking chap, sings well, and has admirable tenacity when it comes to trying to remain relevant. About ten years ago, he strayed from the middle of the road to work with Jarvis Cocker and Roisin Murphy, and record for the Acid Jazz label. He's also lent his time to high-profile charity causes, including things not related to Germany, like raising money for Barnsley Hospice and the Conisbrough Music Festival. A fine, fine fellow. 

And anyone who likes Germany should like Tony Christie!

GERMANY! (What's not to like) Download or Listen on Line

 

ILL-USTRATED SONGS #48 - EXPERIENCE THE THRILL OF BLUE TITS

    As we head toward December, it’s entirely possible that on a cold day, a woman foolishly walking outside without a jacket might find herself with blue tits. She might even emit a squeal but it won't likely be melodious! 

    Spike Milligan recalled on a winter’s day, the sight of “a blue tit who pecked open the cap of a milk carton left at the doorstep. It was a cold day, and the milk was frozen, and the blue tit skated around and around on the milk!” (OK, it was one of those moments where the audience was a little confused by Spike's sense of whimsy.) 

    He didn’t mention if the tit sang a song. Back in the old days, BC, (Before Clarinets), primitive people considered the sounds of nature to be their music. They slept to the sound of crickets and woke to the alarm clock noise of the cicadas. They especially enjoyed how horny birds put on concerts for each other. People heard larks. They quoted ravens. They laughed with the kookaburras.

    Does the average dolt today know the different bird calls? Or care? "Bird Call" and "Sounds of Nature" CDs don't sell too well, and nobody even offers them free in forums. No, it’s more important to go to a blog shoutbox and bleat, “Anybody got a discography of Whitesnake??” Frankly, any noise a bird makes beats anything by Ted Nugent. I'd rather listen to a woodpecker than a peckerwood.

    Below, a brief example of the Blue Tit. It’s a reminder that the best things in life are free, not because you can steal them with a download, but because you’re in the real world and paying attention.

THE BLUE TIT (The RED TWAT is Ed Sheeran. None of his shit HERE) Download or listen online

ILL-USTRATED SONGS #47 - HONKY TONK WOMAN - Ted Heath

    For a while, “Easy Listening” was a popular music category. The idea was to dumb down music, and make it “soft” for fat-heads. The most glaring examples were in the 60’s, when The Hollyridge Strings, The Living Voices and others sought to cut John Lennon’s throat and tamp down Ringo’s drums to sweeten Beatles music. Guys like Ted Heath polished up the Rolling Stones. "Easy Listening" is like picking your nose and eating it…but dipping it in honey first. 

    Oddly enough, the REVERSE is going on today. The idea in music is to be as abrasive and annoying as possible. Melody? FUCK melody. Let’s have nothing but BEATS and RAP. A few weeks ago Graham Norton breathlessly introduced UK audiences to an androgyne "boy band" from South Korea who ridiculously strutted around like black rappers, holding their mikes askew, and bellowing over beats. They probably learned from Taylor Swift, who likewise has incorporated rap and monotonous lyrics. "Look what you made me do," 21st Century monsters. Taylor even hardened her make-up to be more like, oh, Cardi or Nicki or some other zombie streetwalker.  And yes, Holliday WAS on the cover of Cosmo, and the caption on the lower right IS real.

    We are literally SEEING a new sub-standard in beauty. At one time, the phrase for an attractive woman was “easy on the eyes.” Now? Take a look at the freakish Kim Kardashian, with her distorted lips and callipygian butt. She’s led the way in making UGLY the new BEAUTIFUL. At one time, sex symbols were cute and friendly (remember Barbara Eden?) or showed intelligence (ah, Diana Rigg). Now?

    Now, sexy women ain't "easy on the eyes." Watch Miley Cyrus stick out her tongue while in pedo-mode of short hair and flat chest. How about how ridiculous Lady Gaga wore sick fashions to become a success? Is it an improvemenet that along with anorexic toothpicks, we've been subjected to whorey Hindenbergs? A creature named Tess Holliday is just the latest in the “don’t fat shame me” parade of nauseating flabbitches…the list including Adele, Amy Schumer and Rebel Wilson. Maybe it's a plot to turn men homosexual. Where's a fuckable-looking female star now? 

    While Mick Jagger sang about a “Honky Tonk Woman,” who the fuck did he wanna fuck? Marianne Faithful, that’s who. A traditional beauty. He looked to Bianca, and Anita Pallenberg, and typical model Jerry Hall. Rolling Stones music may have been raunchy, but you didn't find freaks of nature when it came to some girls Mick was banging to a rock beat. Meanwhile the businessman with the wife and kids back home, was putting on “Easy Listening” music in the hotel room while licking the twat a prostitute too ugly for even Hugh Grant to pay for. 

    Ugly is the new beautiful, just as "Easy Listening" from a Ted Heath or James Last attempts to beautify hard, nasty rock. 

Ted Heath - HONKY TONK WOMAN - no ego passwords, no bratty demands for Paypal tips, no creepy cloud service trying to trick you into downloading spyware

ILL-USTRATED SONGS #46 CURLY CHALKER! (Can't Buy Me Love)

    In the world of country music, a guy named “Curly” was more likely to actually have curly, wavy hair than be bald. That was the deal for “Curly” Putman, songwriter of “Green Green Grass of Home,” and of steel guitar session man Harold Chalker (October 22, 1931 – April 30, 1998).

    Both guys had trouble getting record deals; they were better known for what they could do behind the scenes. There were so many singers around, Curly Putman’s fine but not too distinctive stylings failed to find an audience. As for Chalker, was there really a big market for entire pedal steel albums? Evidently not.  Two or three albums on either would take a long time to find, especially now that so few record stores are left standing. 

    In the 50’s and 60’s, Chalker played in a number of bands, and had a steady gig in Las Vegas with Hank Penny’s group. For a while, he had a reputation for being erratic. Hank Thompson famously recalled that Curly would sometimes miss a note, and give out with a shout of ‘SHIT!” Hank said that Curly might “bear down and play the best you ever saw” for an important gig, but on some routine night on the road, “hell, every other song he’d mess it up.” 

        Curly moved to Nashville for lucrative session work (back when recording studios were prospering and there was no such thing as Pro Tools).  His first solo album was “Big Hits on Big Steel” for Columbia in 1966. It wasn’t a big hit, but he remained in high demand for a variety of artists from rockabilly types (Bill Haley), to country stars (Ray Price, Willie Nelson) to even mainstream performers (he’s on “The Boxer” by Paul Simon). He was in the band that backed all the performers on “Hee Haw,” a show that ran on network TV and in syndication for 18 years. 

    Curly did do a pedal steel cover of Paul Simon’s “Bridge Over Troubled Water,” but let’s go with something mainstream but a little more upbeat for your download sample: CAN'T BUY ME LOVE - no stupid egocentric PASSWORDS, no obnoxious demand for Paypal donations, instant download or listen online from a non-Putin company

ILL-USTRATED SONGS #45 - BEWITCHED with lyrics via PEGGY LEE

A salute to Peggy Lee, born Norma Egstrom on May 26, 1920. (She swooped the planet on January 21, 2002). 

Also being saluted, Elizabeth Montgomery, who died of colorectal cancer on May 18th, 1995. It's possible that if she'd had a colonoscopy or other check-up, her problem could have been caught and corrected, and she'd still be with us. She was born April 15, 1933.

Many vintage TV themes had lyrics so that idiots could instantly figure out what the show was about.  The "premise" TV theme was used to explain the Clampetts becoming "The Beverly Hillbillies," Mr. and Mrs. Douglas moving to "Green Acres," and how the castaways got to "Gilligan's Island." The "introductory" TV theme simply explained "Bat Masterson," "Wyatt Earp," "Maverick" and "Paladin." Some shows didn't require much in the way of lyrics. One theme song merely had a sexy gal saying..."It's Burke's Law." 

Fans have discovered that there ARE lyrics to some TV shows with well known instrumental themes, including "Bonanza," "Hawaii 5-0," and yes..."Bewitched." But you'll find out about the latter with just a finger twitch...

Twitch and hear BEWITCHED...online or via download. No greedhead Paypal donation request, no egocentric Password, no buy-a-premium-account weasel shit from Rapidgator  

ILL-USTRATED SONGS #44 WHAT KIND OF SCENT IS THAT? R&B 78rpm

Cats, one of the most popular topics for raunchy blues numbers is a raunchy twat. 

The rather delicately phrased "What kind of scent is that" is sung here with a slow strum by Bo Carter. Poor Bo, he's home alone, and his lady comes home around midnight. His ears prick up, but not his prick:

"Now baby, what kind of scent is that? Baby, what kind of scent is that??" He can't sleep. He can only ask that question again and again. As Brother Greg (Dick Gregory) used to say, "You see, we all have problems." Or to put it mathematically, sometimes cooze=blooze. 

Bo Carter, aka Armenter Chatmon (June 30, 1893 – September 21, 1964), originally worked out of Mississippi, but later sang in Memphis. As is typical with "dirty R&B" cats, he usually sang about the cock, not the twat, using the usual euphemisms: "Banana in Your Fruit Basket" and"Please Warm My Wiener" and, on a sadder note, "My Pencil Won't Write No More."

There was a time when 78rpm "dirt" was confined to either "race" records found on obscure labels in the South, or some very "sophisticated" jazz numbers sold under the counter in urban record shops and in some nightclubs. Since some people don't even get what tuxedo-wearing fellows like Dwight Fiske were singing about, it's no surprise that you'll find many more CD compilations of THIS kind of thing...them raunchy R&B tunes that put it right in your lap.

SCENT by download...or you can just listen on line. No stupid passwords or Russian spyware/link service

ILL-USTRATED SONGS #43 "I CAN TELL BY THE WAY YOU SMELL" 78 rpm

Walter Davis (March 1, 1911-October 22, 1963) is singing this sad ol' blues tune: 

"You come in here walkin' just like a goose, look like somebody just turned you loose. Doin' something wrong. Doin' something wrong...(I can) tell by the way you smell." 

Do you suppose if a fan turns at 78rpm, it makes SOME women a bit mo' tol'able? 

Born in Mississippi, Walter Davis learned early on, Missouri loves company. It was in St. Louis that his career took off, and unlike some blues guys, he did work for a major label, cutting dozens and dozens of tracks of RCA Victor's Bluebird division. He recorded sad songs like "Tears Came Rollin' Down" and dirty songs where the tears came rollin' down for a very different reason. 

78's began to go out of fashion by the time Davis suffered a debilitating stroke in 1952. He found less strenuous work sitting behind a desk at a local hotel, checking out the people as they checked in. And if some guy turned up with a ho' well, he could probably tell by the way she smelled.  

Dat Twat Smell Like a Rat - listen online or download on the down low 

ILL-USTRATED SONGS #42 - CELERY STALKS AT MIDNIGHT

Are you like me? Have you enjoyed going to record stores and thrift shops and pawed through 45's and 78's just looking for songs with oddball titles? 

Sometimes the result is SO delightful! Sometimes, er, the music doesn't quite live up to the intriguing title of the song. 

Saving you a fiverrrr, or more likely a nickel, your download below offers a very ordinary big band fox trot called "Celery Stalks at Midnight," with a soporific vocal from Doris Day. No, there's no vivid lyrics about being stalked by a celery, or having a bad dream that started out in a barnyard at sundown (and everybody scared me, and you scared me the most).

Will Bradley’s 1940 original, co-written with George Harris, at least had some kind of weird punchline. After the familiar "Jeepers Creepers" melody wore out its welcome, a band member (probably wiseass drummer Ray McKinley) shouts "Celery stalks along the highway!!" Which almost saves the song. Almost.

My semi-educated guess on this novelty-dance item, is that Will was influenced by the spate of comedy-horror movies popular in theaters, as well as "Inner Sanctum," "Murder at Midnight" and "Lights Out" radio stuff. The latter show scared people one night with the story of a chicken heart that began to grow in a lab and take over an entire city. So why couldn't celery start stalking?

With films, radio shows and mystery books about mad criminals stalking women...how about "Celery Stalks at Midnight?" How about if people back then felt like buying a new single, and simply browsed the new releases looking for an interesting title?

 Ah say, Celery! Stalks! Get it? That's a thigh-slapper, son! I keep tossin' em and you just side-step 'em! (Senator Claghorn anyone?) 

Fast forward 27 years, and we had "The Eggplant That Ate Chicago," which was just as un-amusing when I found it in some bargain bin or other. There's a sucker born every minute when it comes to glancing at a song title and needing to hear it.

It was only ONE year after the Bradley original that Carl Sigman added some insipid (but how tasty is celery) lyrics so that Doris Day could cover the tune. Then as now, how many people really listened to the words anyway? 

No, Doris was NOT singing hilarious lines about a nightmare she had after eating too much celery, or sitting on a stalk. She does offer a very swingin' Ella-type vocal here, as she glosses over the possibility of some kind of nightmare or witchcraft.

The post is really just an excuse to post a photo and, finally, after all these years, offer a backing track from Les Brown. After all, this is the self-proclaimed "blog of less renown." Here you can hear...Les Brown and The Band of Renown backing Doris...and her celery...

 Celery Celery Celery! Sapristi! Download or listen online. No "your adobe is out of date" conjobs, no spyway, no Zinfart password nonsense

Ill-Ustrated Songs #41 ARE YOU WASHED IN THE BLOOD OF THE LAMB?

Sapristi! 

There are few religions that aren't either bloody simple-minded or just plain bloody. The most popular ones...BLOODY. The rituals either involve bloodshed, or ritual substitutes (such as wine) in acts that everyone outside the religion consider peculiar if not dangerous.

A few honest religions pretty much admit that the idea is not to live in peace, but to blow up, behead, and otherwise murder any non-believer (aka INFIDEL). A movie that isn't shown much on TV anymore, "Gunga Din," addressed this by having a fictional guru tell his followers: "Kill for the love of KILLING!" 

Whether it's waving a dead chicken over his head, slaughtering a goat, symbolically drinking the blood of an invisible savior, or overtly running over a bunch of strangers, the self-righteous zealot gives non-religious people, and people of differing religions, cause for alarm. 

There's no talking to religious fanatics. At beset you hope that they can simply find a way to prosper on their own secluded dairy farm or behind their compound, and not bother anyone else.  If they make headlines by spiked Kool-Aid or the mass murder of their own cult, too bad.  

Below, a "Deliverance"-style cheerful romp from the Peach Pickers, who simply want to know if you are Washed in the Blood of the Lamb. If ya don't understand them Christian code words, then ya might find yourself hangin' from a tree. But if you believe in the after life, enjoy your raisins and almonds, or hummus and virgins. 

ARE YOU WASHED IN THE BLOOD OF THE LAMB? The Peach Pickers - listen on line or download. No password crap or wait time or malware.

Ill-Ustrated Songs #38 - KAY MARTIN, "SWAMP GIRL"

Michael Brown's offbeat classic "Swamp Girl" was a surprise hit in 1950.

You'll find the Frankie Laine version elsewhere on the blog. He owned the song, but let's take a listen to the cover version by Kay Martin, singing AS the Swamp Girl.

Above, early Kay in brunette mode. Later she was a brassy blonde.

She and her ridiculous "body guards" twist the song into a groovy jazz riff (think about dated hipsters like The Hi-Lo's, or the Kirby Stone Four). Kay, who had a minor reputation for singing risque novelty songs on adults only indie labels, actually had a semi-major label release with this. Her album of standards was published by the notorious Roulette Records, run by the nefarious Morris Levy. Other tracks, such as "Sentimental Journey" and "Can't Help Lovin' Dat Man" don't gain anything with Kay's indifferent voice or the cliche background singing. But "Swamp Girl?"

Instead of fearful, lustful Frankie Laine singing about her, here's the girl herself boasting of her prowess, with her admiring male duo trailing behind:

Kay: "Where the crane flies through the marshes and the turtles sun their shells.
Where the water rat goes swimmin'..." Body Guards: "That's where my swamp girl dwells!"

Kay: "Tonight my hair will float in the water, And the gold will no longer shine
It will spread like a fan in the water While I make a mysterious sign."
Body Guards: "We have seen that sign before!!!"

Cool, man. Finger' snappin' wild, Daddy.

The arrangement here includes several cliches of the day, from the sizzling break for cymbals to be constantly tipped like a hissing snake, to the sudden harmonizing on a minor note: "Come to the deep where your sleep is without a...DREAM!"

Yes, THIS version of "Swamp Girl" is the ginchiest. Crazy.

SWAMP GIRL (written by Michael Brown, not The Turtles, Charles Manson, Frankie Laine or whoever the pirate lyric sites are crediting. Most don't credit anyone, but it didn't write itself.) KAY MARTIN, Instant download or listen on line No Zinfart egocentric passwords. No malware or spyware anywhere.

Ill-ustrated Songs #36 Genya Ravan BIRD ON THE WIRE

Leonard Cohen is, of course, much too well known to be chronicled here on the Blog of Less Renown. He was an ill folkie, with an amusingly black sense of humor, but he was an international success. While not everyone is aware of "The Future," "Everybody Knows," "Tower of Song," or "Don't Leave Home With Your Hard-On," everybody sobs and nods to every horrible rhyme of "Hallelujah." 

Singers seem hell bent on making sure to make it sound like the songwriter was from Brooklyn and not Montreal: 

"You don't really care much for music, DO YA...her beauty and the moonlight over-THREW YA...I used to live alone before a KNEW YA...HAL A. LEWYA..."  

Arguably his second-most-covered-song among the Shaunas and Saskias of the world, is either "Suzanne" or "Bird on the Wire." The latter was startlingly covered by the great Genya Ravan when she got her first (and last) chance with major label Columbia (also Cohen's label). It was released in 1970. I'm frankly surprised my vinyl is still in good shape on this, 'cause I played this track and several others, over and over on late-night radio. 

Ravan (pronounced "Raven") sounded like a "black bird," and her version of "Bird" starts softly, with a beautiful gospel touch, before rising into a crescendo of emotion. I was proud to tell her that I thought she was the real deal, and that Janis Joplin was just a "high wind." Genya did not choose to agree or disagree. She was, to paraphrase Dylan being a "diplomat." She kept mum and stroked her siamese cat. No, really. She had it on her shoulder for a while.

If we can make something positive out of Cohen's passing, it came on a high note. What he intimated would be his last album, was deemed a brilliant "comeback" and received glowing reviews. Like Zevon, he was receiving renewed appreciation when the end came. Suffering from back pain and an increasingly frail body, Leonard died following a fall in his home, apparently not regaining consciousness or suffering any further pain from a futile trip to the hospital. 

One thing people sometimes say when a person dies is, "Oh, if only I had a chance to say how much I loved the music." Well, that chance still applies to Genya Ravan, who I've always believed to be one of the greatest female vocalists of all time. Just listen to what she does with that BIRD ON THE WIRE. 

Bird on the Wire - listen on line or download

No capcha codes, no pop up ads, no moronic egocentric Zinfart passwords.

ILL-USTRATED SONGS #33 Mel Torme swingin' the RED RUBBER BALL

No, it's not "Captain Spaulding," it's Mel Torme, no longer tormented by a stinker who is "not the only starfish in the sea." 

If you want to know how the Rat Pack-types would do a jazz version of this folk-rock kiss-off, here it is. The mid-60's and late 60's were perilous times for lounge singers. Now "retro-cool," at the time they were becoming corny. They survived as best they could. After crooning "Everybody Loves Somebody Sometime" in his typical insincere way, Dean Martin starred on a long-running barely-rehearsed comedy-variety show.

Sinatra, going morbid ("It Was a Very Good Year") simmered sourly about retirement, and went into some odd phase by hooking up with boyish Mia Farrow. Sammy Davis Jr. got cornier ("Candy Man") but mostly stayed in Vegas. His version of "Mr. Bojangles" wowed the crowds there, but it was Jerry Jeff Walker and Bobby Cole who dueled each other on the Top 40 singles charts.

The rest of the lounge acts and Rat Pack wanna-be's simply had to hep it up as best they could. Andy Williams, Jack Jones, Bing Crosby, Peggy Lee, Kate Smith and even George Burns covered whatever rock songs MIGHT be middle-of-the-road enough for the old fans and tolerable for anyone else listening. And so they did "Mr. Bojangles" or "Bridge Over Troubled Water" or "Hey Jude" or "I Think It's Going to Rain Today" or those awful hybrids like "Up Up and Away." 

Paul Simon's stuff was easily covered, but not so easily swung (Sinatra's "Mrs. Robinson" is elsewhere on this blog). Mel Torme did a good job on "Red Rubber Ball." He was known as "The Velvet Fog" (and not too thrilled with the those who falsely called him "The Velvet Fag" or more accurately as he got older and more bulge-eyed, "The Velvet Frog.") Here, his voice actually has a lot more clarity and less of the soft burr.  

Paul, born and raised in Queens, New York, and a big baseball fan, no doubt spent his early teen years playing with a specific "red rubber ball." It was what New Yawkers called a "Spaldeen." With hard balls and softballs not suited to street play, and a tennis ball lacking pop, kids bought a "pinky" instead. No, it was never actually bright red, but kids thought of it that way anyway. If you wuz a New York kid, you'd  woik up an appetite playin' stickball with yer "Spaldeen," and then if you didn't have to drop into the "Lie-berry" to get books for skoo-well, you'd go home and have a bowl of "Piss-ketti."

Oh the nostalgia of red rubber balls, blue balls, finger-snappin' lounge singers, melodic pop songs, and getting over a break-up with a bitch. 

RED RUBBER BALL - listen on line or download, no Zinfart passwords, no porn ads, no capcha codes.