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Post by Kapitan on May 1, 2024 13:23:02 GMT
There's a certain comfort in Doo Wop hits for me. I can't say I ever felt enticed to dig too deeply into Doo Wop, but I've always enjoyed it. I have fond memories of hearing those songs on WQSR - Baltimore's Oldies Station (until around 2003). I had a cassette of the Stand By Me Soundtrack (which I loaned to a friend and never got back). My mother had a cassette of Dirty Dancing that had a couple Doo Wop songs. It's just kind of fun and joyous. I did buy a pretty nice 3CD Doo Wop compilation about ten years ago, and I'm about 97% sure Blue Moon is represented. I've always loved the music from that movie. Actually I also just love the movie--it's got to be a Top 10 for me--but the music fits great, whether incorporated into the action (like "Lollipop") or just for background. I remember being surprised that my parents knew all the words to all the songs the first time we watched it, not realizing that these songs were roughly the soundtrack of their teenage years.
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Post by kds on May 1, 2024 13:48:40 GMT
There's a certain comfort in Doo Wop hits for me. I can't say I ever felt enticed to dig too deeply into Doo Wop, but I've always enjoyed it. I have fond memories of hearing those songs on WQSR - Baltimore's Oldies Station (until around 2003). I had a cassette of the Stand By Me Soundtrack (which I loaned to a friend and never got back). My mother had a cassette of Dirty Dancing that had a couple Doo Wop songs. It's just kind of fun and joyous. I did buy a pretty nice 3CD Doo Wop compilation about ten years ago, and I'm about 97% sure Blue Moon is represented. I've always loved the music from that movie. Actually I also just love the movie--it's got to be a Top 10 for me--but the music fits great, whether incorporated into the action (like "Lollipop") or just for background. I remember being surprised that my parents knew all the words to all the songs the first time we watched it, not realizing that these songs were roughly the soundtrack of their teenage years. I agree, that's one of my all time favorite movies. It's funny that some of my all time favorite movies and shows - A Christmas Story, Stand By Me, The Wonder Years, The Sandlot - are set in a past I never knew.
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Post by Kapitan on May 6, 2024 19:23:56 GMT
”Runaway,” by Del Shannon April 24-May 15, 1961 (4 weeks)
In 1958, Doug DeMott was fired from his own band, the Moonlight Ramblers, who had a regular gig at a Battle Creek, Mich., club called The Hi-Lo Club. Their 24-year-old rhythm guitarist, a U.S. Army veteran who had also worked as a carpet salesman and a furniture factory truck driver named Charles Westover, took over as the frontman. It probably didn’t seem particularly important to anyone but DeMott, Westover, and the other Moonlight Ramblers.
Westover was born in 1934 in Grand Rapids, Mich., and learned to play ukulele and guitar at a young age. He was a fan of country and western music of the time, such as Hank Williams and Lefty Frizell. In 1954 he was drafted into the Army and served in Germany, where he played guitar in a band called The Cool Flames. Upon his return, he worked jobs such as those mentioned above and found part-time work as a rhythm guitarist in local bands.
Suddenly a bandleader, Westover changed his stage name to Charlie Johnson and renamed the Moonlight Ramblers as the Big Little Show Band. In 1959, he hired a keyboardist named Max Crook, who played a keyboard of his own invention, which he called a Musitron (based on a commercially available analog synthesizer invented by a Frenchman in 1947 and licensed to Selmer in France and Gibson in the USA, where it was known as the Clavioline).
The group continued to perform, and “Johnson” and Crook tried to drum up industry interest, shopping demos to DJs, industry people, and recording executives. One A&R man/producer, Harry Balk, was interested—but suggested that Westover/Johnson change his name (again). Third time was the charm: Del Shannon, born of some combination between a Cadillac DeVille and a local pro wrestler’s stage name Mark Shannon, entered the world as a 26-year-old singer-songwriter. (Crook also took a new name, Maximillian. One might suspect this was his real first name, but no: Max was short for Maxfield.)
In late 1960, Shannon and Crook went to New York City to record for Big Top Records. The sessions bore no fruit. Their manager, Ollie McLaughlin, suggested the duo rewrite and rerecord one of their old songs, “Little Runaway,” featuring Crook’s Musitron. They did, and on January 21, 1961, they returned to Bell Sound Studios in New York to record “Runaway.”
Supplementing Shannon and Crook were a handful of studio pros: Joe Marshall, who had played with Johnny Hodges and LaVern Baker, played drums; Milt Hinton, who had a long tenure with Cab Calloway before becoming an in-demand session, radio, and TV musician for huge names, played bass; Bucky Pizzarelli, a great jazz guitarist who that same year played for Dion and later joined the Tonight Show band, played guitar, as did Al Caiola and Al Casamenti; Moe Wenschler played piano; and arranger Bill Ramall also played baritone sax. Balk served as producer, and in that role, sped up the tape slightly so that it went from its original key of A minor to just a hair flat of Bb minor.
Released as the first single by Del Shannon a month after it was recorded—Feb. 18, 1961—“Runaway” was an instant success. And an April 10 appearance on Dick Clark’s American Bandstand helped propel it to No. 1 on the Hot 100, where it remained for four weeks. It was also a No. 1 hit in the UK, Canada, Chile, Australia, and New Zealand, and was a hit record elsewhere worldwide.
Del Shannon never matched the success of his first single. His second single, “Hats Off to Larry” hit No. 5, and in 1964 he scored a No. 9 hit with “Keep Searchin’ (We’ll Follow the Sun).” Those were his only Top 10 hits, though he had about half a dozen more Top 40 hits (and maybe a dozen more songs charting lower).
Del Shannon kept recording and performing, though his pace slowed tremendously, especially in the 1970s, as alcoholism took its toll. He released just 11 studio albums in his 30-year career, eight of which came within those first five years.
In early 1990, Del Shannon was working hard on a new album, trying to arrange live performances, and generally under significant stress. He was prescribed Prozac on January 24, 1990, to help him deal with the stress. Just over two weeks later, he shot and killed himself. His widow said the Prozac had an immediate, noticeable, very negative effect on his mental and physical health.
“Runaway” has been regarded as a classic since its release, having been covered by many artists and included in innumerable films and television shows.
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Post by kds on May 6, 2024 19:43:23 GMT
Another classic track I fondly remember from hearing quite often on WQSR, and a memorable use in the HBO comedy Arli$$.
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Post by lonelysummer on May 7, 2024 3:28:45 GMT
Del's music was all over the oldies stations when I was growing up. Hats Off to Larry is a favorite, and Keep Searchin'.
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Post by Kapitan on May 7, 2024 14:45:14 GMT
First, on the song: unlike several (quite a few?) of these songs, I have no hesitation whatsoever accepting that this was a No. 1 hit. It sounds like one! If anything, considering some of the other songs we've seen in this position, I'm surprised it only stayed there for four weeks.
Second, on the artist: I didn't really know much about Del Shannon, other than that he died around the late 80s or early 90s and that Jeff Lynne produced his would-be comeback album (which became a posthumous album). Reading up on him, I was surprised to see how much of his actual output was done so early in his life.
It also seems like he never had consistently good management or label relations. He kept being pushed into doing albums mostly of covers at precisely the time many bands were taking the more self-contained route of doing more originals. When your first single is a massive hit that you and your bandmate wrote, you'd think your management and label would try to nudge you in that direction, to really establish an identity.
Right now I'm listening to his ninth album, the progressive/psychedelic The Further Adventures of Charles Westover. Released in March 1968 after a year and a half break from his previous album, he wrote seven of its 12 songs. I have read it was well received upon release despite not doing much business. It is very much of the time (hello, sitar), but pretty strong so far.
Del Shannon didn't release another studio album for a decade!
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Post by Sheriff John Stone on May 7, 2024 19:45:55 GMT
"Runaway" is my favorite of the #1 songs so far in this thread. I love everything about the song. I can see why it was covered so often. It must be fun to perform with the "I won-won-won-won wonder" high vocal part, the Clavioline-dominated bridge, and the "my little runaway, my run, run, run, runaway" tag. The song is a classic. It's emotional, it moves, it rocks! And, it sounded so great on the radio. Still does. I should mention, though, that it's impossible to find a nice, clear/clean version of the recording; sadly it was poorly recorded back in 1961.
After Roy Orbison passed away in 1988, there was speculation that Del Shannon might replace Roy in the Traveling Wilburys. Of course, that never came to fruition, but the Wilbury's did record an excellent version of "Runaway":
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Post by Sheriff John Stone on May 11, 2024 13:22:05 GMT
Del Shannon was inducted into the Rock And Roll Hall Of Fame in 1999. Bonnie Raitt and Billy Joel performed "Runaway". What's interesting about that performance is that Billy plays the Clavioline solo during the bridge, but then Paul Shaffer runs over and plays the Clavioline part for the ending as Billy has other keyboard duties. I always enjoy watching Paul Shaffer's on-stage production duties on those Rock And Roll Of Fame performances and on the David Letterman show.
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Post by jk on May 12, 2024 22:15:44 GMT
Del Shannon's "Runaway" radically reshaped a teenage JK's definition of what a pop song could be. My father's definition of pop as "howling apes strumming guitars" comes a cropper when faced with the extraordinary likes of "Runaway".
If I had to name one work in any musical genre that has most influenced my perspective on music (one is tempted to say "on life"), it would be Del Shannon's original 1961 release of "Runaway".
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Post by lonelysummer on May 13, 2024 3:49:18 GMT
"Runaway" is my favorite of the #1 songs so far in this thread. I love everything about the song. I can see why it was covered so often. It must be fun to perform with the "I won-won-won-won wonder" high vocal part, the Clavioline-dominated bridge, and the "my little runaway, my run, run, run, runaway" tag. The song is a classic. It's emotional, it moves, it rocks! And, it sounded so great on the radio. Still does. I should mention, though, that it's impossible to find a nice, clear/clean version of the recording; sadly it was poorly recorded back in 1961.
After Roy Orbison passed away in 1988, there was speculation that Del Shannon might replace Roy in the Traveling Wilburys. Of course, that never came to fruition, but the Wilbury's did record an excellent version of "Runaway":
Okay, I thought I just had a junk version of the 45 - one of those on the Collectables label. There are a number of old hits that I have never found a good recording of - "Go Now" by the Moodies comes to mind.
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Post by lonelysummer on May 13, 2024 3:54:48 GMT
Footnote #1: when I worked at Tower Records in 1990, we got a copy of Del's Tom Petty produced album in the import section. I had read about it, so decided to grab it. "Drop Down and Get Me" from 1981; this import version added a song, "Cheap Love", recorded a year later - and I thought it was the best song on the album. 10 years later, I found his final vinyl, "Rock On", produced by Jeff Lynne and Mike Campbell. If anything, I thought this album was even better. There's just a haunting quality about a lot of his songs, which I guess is to be expected, considering how his life ended up. Even though I didn't know a lot of his music at the time of his passing, it broke my heart. I thought of him as one of those guys whose success came between the two big bangs of rock and roll - Elvis 1956 and Beatles 1964 - and for that reason, he is often overlooked. But as we're seeing in this thread, there was still some good music coming out in those "in between years".
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Post by Kapitan on May 13, 2024 15:28:14 GMT
”Mother-In-Law,” by Ernie K-Doe May 22, 1961 (1 week)Every city has its eccentrics, but New Orleans is known for having more than its fair share. A jambalaya of a city, African, Spanish, French, indigenous American, and of course eventually white-bread mainstream American influences all blend together in the food, music, and other exercises of culture there. Had you been there in the 1990s, you may have seen a 60-something year-old man whose hard living made him look even older, wearing a long wig and colorful, sequined or rhinestone-studded suit and cape. The man proclaimed himself “Mister Naugahyde,” “Emperor of New Orleans,” and even more grandiose “Emperor of the Universe.” You’d be forgiven for thinking this character was drunk out of his mind, and had you bumped into him in the ‘70s or ‘80s, he may well have been. But late in life, Ernie K-Doe was sober. The man knew the value of schtick, and with the support of his then-wife Antoinette, he leaned into it. They even opened a nightclub, The Mother-in-Law Lounge. The establishment’s name came from K-Doe’s biggest hit. In fact, while his career spanned five decades, “Mother-In-Law” was K-Doe’s only Top 40 hit … but it wasn’t just a Top 40 hit. It went all the way to No. 1. In 1960, Joe Banashak hired pianist Allen Toussaint to be an A&R executive and staff producer for Minit Records, and then Instant Records. Toussaint had been a working musician at least since he was 17 and got a paid gig standing in for Huey “Piano” Smith in Earl King’s band. His first record work was sitting in for Fats Domino on “I Want You To Know.” (Fats overdubbed his vocal later, but that’s Touissant’s piano.) By the early ‘60s, when Touissant was in his early 30s, he was writing, arranging, and producing for Minit, Instant, and as a freelancer, other labels. Ernie K-Doe, born Ernest Kador, Jr., in 1933, was a few years older than Touissant and had been kicking around the New Orleans music scene for nearly a decade, first as a member of the Blue Diamonds and then as a solo artist beginning in 1955. In early 1961, K-Doe was doing a session for Minit Records with Touissant producing. They recorded four songs in a single three-hour session. “Mother-in-Law” came about from the then-single Touissant playing around with a musical riff he liked, vocalizing it with the almost throwaway lyric inspired by the common standup comedy subject of mothers-in-law. The tune almost didn’t come to fruition. According to Touissant: “I just balled it up and put it in the trash can, like I did with many efforts back then. But one of the backup singers, Willie Hopper, he thought it was just a delightful song and he took it out of the trashcan when I took a short break, and went over to K-Doe and said, look, try this again, man. And just calm down and please give it a try again, 'cause it's a good song. And K-Doe did just that, and I'm so glad he did.” Conversely, K-Doe said after the fact that it was an easy song to sing. He said it “wasn’t a hard song to sing because my mother-in-law was staying at my house. I was married 19 years and it was 19 years of pure sorrow. . . . Oooh, she was lowdown.” “Mother-in-Law” topped the charts for one week in May 1961. A novelty song on its surface, Touissant has said it had a bit of an edge because it was so harsh in its treatment of mothers-in-law. “Satan should be her name?” Ouch. Journalist Tom Breihan wrote for Stereogum that “‘Mother-in-Law’ is a perfectly lovely New Orleans R&B jam masquerading as a novelty song.” K-Doe put four more singles into the Top 100 over the subsequent year, but nothing cracked the Top 40. As the ‘60s wore on, his career flagged, and his alcoholism grew worse to the point of him occasionally being homeless on the streets of New Orleans. But he landed a radio show on a local station in the ‘80s, where his gregarious personality shone, and his newly rediscovered celebrity grew. He met Antoinette Dorsey—Lee Dorsey’s cousin—who was managing and tending the Hinky Dinky bar, and they struck up a relationship. She helped him sober up and, a talented designer and seamstress, she created the image to match his personality. With Antoinette’s help, K-Doe had late-life, local success with his career and his club, and the couple put significant effort into charitable causes. Ernie died in 2001 of kidney and liver failure brought on by his decades of alcoholism. Antoinette kept the Mother-in-Law running, and while it flooded during Hurricane Katrina, she made it a hub of for the neighborhood’s recovery, including making it an aid station, offering red beans and rice to those in need, and helping local musicians get back onto their feet. Antoinette died of a heart attack in the Mother-in-Law during Mardi Gras 2009.
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Post by kds on May 13, 2024 16:09:51 GMT
There's a song that I'd completely forgotten about. I remember the first time I heard this song on the old WQSR, I actually thought it was a spoof. There used to be a band called Stevie and the Satellites that would record parodies of various oldies. So, I thought it was them.
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Post by jk on May 13, 2024 16:28:15 GMT
”Mother-In-Law,” by Ernie K-Doe May 22, 1961 (1 week) Thanks once again, Cap'n. I remember hearing this song at the time and hearing kids at school singing it -- and I do like the call and response between the bottom and top voices -- but it's never been a favourite of mine. Curiously, I've always heard that line as "Sin should be her name". Perhaps it makes less sense, but Satan is surely laying it on a little bit too thick!
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Post by Kapitan on May 13, 2024 17:55:10 GMT
I like this one more than most of the novelty tunes we've dealt with, but I wish Mr. Toussaint would have spent a little more time thinking of lyrics... Yes, the little riff he liked was well suited to "mother-in-law," but the final product hurts the song.
And while I enjoyed learning his story, I can't say I'm enamored with Ernie K-Doe. His vocal seems pretty pedestrian to me: nothing wrong with it, nothing great about it. I understand his gift was in being a promoter, and I suppose that was a big part of the success.
The track itself, though, I like quite a bit. I'd love to know more about the recording itself, because the piano has a lot of "room sound" in particular, as if it weren't on its own channel/track. (Being 1961, I suppose that's entirely likely.) But the drums are up front, and the horns are really distinct and in your face. The piano solo--by Toussaint--is very cool.
While I don't have the affection many of you seem to for "Runaway," I do think that was the superior single by a good margin. This is OK, though.
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