1960s – PowerPop… An Eclectic Collection of Pop Culture

Who – Anyway, Anyhow, Anywhere

These sixties singles by the Who are so exciting. They sounded different from their peers and were cutting their own path. This was The Who’s second single. It was the follow-up to I Can’t Explain. When this was sent to their American record label to distribute, they sent it back, assuming the feedback meant there was something wrong with it.

Townshend turned what most engineers considered a mistake into an instrument. Those piercing squeals and roars mid-song weren’t accidents; they were the sound of pop music evolving in real time. The Who didn’t want to sound clean or polite; they wanted to sound like the inside of a jet engine, and they nailed it.

The Who’s early singles like Can’t Explain, The Kids Are Alright, Substitute, I’m A Boy, and A Legal Matter don’t get the airplay that their later music does. They were innovative at the time with feedback, distortion, and Moon’s aggressive drumming.

Townshend later said the song was about personal freedom, and that’s exactly what it feels like. The right to be loud, to be different, to not apologize for who you are. You can trace the line from this track straight through to everything that came after: The Jam, The Clash, The Raspberries, Big Star… all carrying that same spark of defiance.

This song was written by Pete Townshend and Roger Daltrey. It was one of the few times they wrote together. Super session man Nicky Hopkins was on the piano.

The song peaked at #10 in the UK in 1965.

Roger Daltrey: ‘Anyway, Anyhow, Anywhere’ was the first song when we attempted to get that noise onto a record and that was a good deal of time before Hendrix had even come to England, the American pressing plant sent it back thinking it was a mistake. We said, ‘No, this is the f—ing noise we want. CUT IT LOUD!'”

“We were doing this feedback stuff, even before that. We’d be doing blues songs and they’d turn into this freeform, feedback, jazzy noise. Pete was getting all these funny noises, banging his guitar against the speakers. Basically, the act that Hendrix is famous for came from Townshend, pre-‘I Can’t Explain.'”

Anyway, Anyhow, Anywhere

I can go anyway, way I choose
I can live anyhow, win or lose
I can go anywhere, for something new
Anyway, anyhow, anywhere I choose

I can do anything, right or wrong
I can talk anyhow, and get along
Don’t care anyway, I never lose
Anyway, anyhow, anywhere I choose

Nothing gets in my way
Not even locked doors
Don’t follow the lines
That been laid before
I get along anyway I dare
Anyway, anyhow, anywhere

I can go anyway, way I choose
I can live anyhow, win or lose
I can do anything, for something new
Anyway, anyhow, anywhere I choose

(Oooh) anyway
(Oooh) Anyway I choose, yeah
(Oooh) Anyway I want to go
(Oooh) I want to go ‘n do it myself
Do it myself
Do it myself, yeah
Anyway, way I choose
Anyway I choose
Yeah, yeah
Ain’t never gonna lose the way I choose
The way I choose
The way I choose

“You shouldn’t like music that was made before you were born”

I thought I would do something different today. I was reminded of this by the phrase, “it was before my time.” Movies and music fall into this category. I do know people who will not watch movies made “before their time.” I don’t think many of my readers would agree to this statement, but who knows?

I had a co-worker in the early 2000s (Sam) tell me that I shouldn’t like music that was before my time because it was unnatural (yes, he said that). I was first kinda of amused and shocked. I like Sam a lot, and we would talk a lot; he is a smart fellow. However, on this point, I didn’t understand. Why? Is there some unwritten law that I can’t like 1950s or 1960s music up to 1967, when I was born? That cut off some of the best music of the 20th century and beyond.

He grew up in the 80s, as I did, and was probably around 5 or so years younger than me. I’ve seen other people act the same way. If it were before they were born, then they would not give it a second listen. If a movie is black and white, they act as if they are near a radiation leak!

I think the subject centered around how I loved 50s and 60s music and The Beatles, The Who, The Stones, and The Kinks. He said I should be listening to music from my teenage years (well, I WAS…60s music was my soundtrack growing up), but I DID listen to the top 40 when I was a teenager, which, to me, didn’t live up to those bands to any degree or form. Maybe it wasn’t fair to compare Men Without Hats to those 1960s bands. It was hard to stomach some of the ’80s for me, but not all. Now I’m busy catching up on music I missed that wasn’t on Top 40 radio at the time. I did find an oasis in the 80s, alternative music like The Replacements and REM…and the classic bands.

I still want to find other music and movies I like. Why would age have any effect on the music, whether we like it or not? That doesn’t mean I don’t like new music. I have posted newer bands here before who have just released albums. If it’s good, it doesn’t matter what era it came from, at least not to me. Christian, Graham, and Lisa all posted some newer songs that I liked. With movies, yes, I find some I like. I just saw Weapons and loved it, plus there are others.

I’m not putting people down at all who think like that. Hey, if that is what they believe, more power to them. I never believed in criticizing people for their opinions, music, or otherwise. Whatever blows their hair back.

Anyway, what do you think?

…

Charlie Rich – Midnight Blues

When I was growing up, I remember watching music shows from Nashville, and I saw this white haired man constantly. That white haired guy was Charlie Rich. I never knew much about his older music, but I am really getting into it.

After a stint in the Air Force, Rich started writing his own songs and playing around Memphis, the city that ended up shaping him more than anything else. Memphis in the 1950s was a blend of blues, country, gospel, and early rock and roll, and Rich fit right into the middle. He wasn’t a purist of any genre; he was a blender, and that would become his signature for the rest of his career.

His big break came when he walked into Sun Records, though it wasn’t exactly instant stardom. Sam Phillips didn’t quite know what to do with him because Rich didn’t fit the Sun mold. He wasn’t a raw rocker like Jerry Lee Lewis, and he wasn’t a rockabilly guy like Carl Perkins. He was smoother, jazzier, more complicated.

Before he became the “Silver Fox” singing Behind Closed Doors, he was a studio guy down in Memphis, searching for the sound that matched his style. Midnight Blues, recorded in 1960 for Sun, captures that in-between phase perfectly, smoky, late-night melancholy set to a subtle shuffle.

Some singers have a pain in their voice, such as Richard Manuel of the Band. Charlie Rich’s early Sun Records is like that as well. What always blows me away with Rich is that he could sound both heartbroken and confident at the same time. This song has a little bit of everything in it. He had one of those voices that could blend into anything, from country to soul, jazz, or blues.

He would go on to have nine country number ones in the 1970s. Lonely Weekends was his first US hit. It hit #27 on Cash Box in 1960.

Midnight Blues

Midnite, you know you’re doing me wrongMidnite, doing me wrongKeeping me up all night longAll night, all night longEverytime I feel a little bit freeI hear those blues, midnite bluesCommence to calling meMidnite, why don’t you leave me aloneLeave me, leave me aloneI’m trying my best to make a happy homeHappy, happy homeEverytime I feel a little bit freeI hear those blues, midnite bluesCommence to calling meI just can’t help to feel a little bit ashamedEverytime I hear you call my nameI’m blaming you for all the bad things I’ve doneBlame you for what I’ve doneStill I will admit that every once in a while it was fun

Yeah but midnite, don’t keep me running aroundDon’t keep running aroundI made up my mind, I’m gonna settle downAh ha, settle downEverytime I feel a little bit freeI hear those blues, midnite bluesBlues, midnite bluesI hear those blues, midnite bluesCommence to calling meThat blues is a calling meMidnite blues is a calling me

…

Duane Eddy – Peter Gunn

I’ve always liked this song. It was originally by Henry Mancini for the Peter Gunn television show in 1958. I love instrumentals, and this is one of the best. I think the heyday of instrumentals was the fifties and sixties.

This (and many of his songs) was recorded in a Phoenix studio, which had an echo chamber that was originally a large water tank. A single speaker was placed at one end of the tank, the microphone at the other, and the guitar was piped in there. It’s hard to mimic that with a reverb stomp box.

Duane Eddy, the man who made a single twangy note sound like thunder rolling across the land. In 1959, he took Henry Mancini’s already cool Peter Gunn TV theme and turned it into something leaner and meaner. Backing him up was producer Lee Hazlewood, who knew how to turn an amplifier and that echo chamber into sonic gold. Together, they recorded this song in Phoenix, with a rhythm section that was tight and lean.

I like how Eddy arranged his songs. No big flashy solos or seeing how fast he could play, just that sound he had, never letting up. Duane Eddy laid the groundwork for surf music, spy soundtracks, and even hard rock. Everyone from The Ventures to George Harrison took notes from that tone.

The song peaked at #27 on the Billboard 100, #30 in Canada, and #6 in the UK in 1959 and 1960.

Rising Sons – Candy Man

Just found this band. What a band, Ry Cooder and Taj Mahal in the same band. It doesn’t get much better than that. Some songs sound like they were born on the back porch, passed around from player to player, gathering different fingerprints and stories along the way. This is one of those songs. This is a traditional song arranged by the Rising Sons.

The band formed around 1964 in Los Angeles, built on the partnership between two then unknown but soon to be legendary musicians, Taj Mahal and Ry Cooder. Taj had moved west from Massachusetts after studying agriculture and getting into the folk revival. Cooder was a teenage slide guitar prodigy growing up in Santa Monica who already had a reputation as the kid who could play anything with strings. They met in the LA clubs, places like the Ash Grove and Troubadour.

They quickly became a standout act on the LA scene. They were signed to Columbia Records in 1965, which tells you how much buzz they had, but the label didn’t really understand what to do with a group that wasn’t rock, wasn’t folk, and wasn’t blues, but somehow all three. Their album was shelved for decades. This is the same problem the Goose Creek Symphony had; the label didn’t know what box to put them in.

The real joy of their Candy Man is how it captures a moment in time right before American roots music exploded. This was before the Byrds went country, and The Band were still the Hawks backing up Bob Dylan. This short-lived 1965 band was a great one, featuring a young Taj Mahal, an even younger Ry Cooder, and future Byrds drummer Kevin Kelley (later on), who replaced Ed Cassidy, Jesse Lee Kincaid on vocals and guitar, and Gary Marker on bass. The Rising Sons didn’t last long, but recordings like this show just how special that little window was.

They recorded an album, and it was produced by Terry Melcher. The album wasn’t released, but this single was. The album was finally released in 1992. It’s blues meeting folk with a bit of country rock in there. I was reminded in the comments that this version was based on the Reverend Gary Davis version. Thank you, halffastcyclingclub and purplegoatee2684b071ed.

I wanted to include these slang words and definitions that were given.

Salty Dog – In blues songs, a “salty dog” is a slang term for a man, often an experienced sailor, who seeks a casual, non-committal sexual relationship. The phrase can also refer to a libidinous man more generally, or someone who is “salty” in the sense of being experienced, spicy, or unpredictable.

Candy Man – In blues songs, a “Candy Man” is a term for a gigolo, ladies’ man, or dealer of drugs, often with a sexually suggestive connotation. While the literal interpretation is a seller of candy, the more common meaning in traditional blues songs refers to a charismatic and enticing man who sells a different kind of “sweet” product, like sexual favors or drugs.

Gary Marker: “We were the problem; we had difficulties distilling our multiple musical agendas down to a product that would sell. We had no actual leader, no clear musical vision…. I think [Melcher] went out of his way to make us happy – within the scope of his knowledge. He tried just about everything he could, including the live, acoustic session that produced ‘2:10 Train.'”

Candy Man

Candy man, Candy man
Been and gone been and gone
Candy man, Candy man
Been and gone been and gone
Candy man, Candy man
Been and gone been and gone

Well, I wish I was down in New Orleans
Sitting on the candy stand
Candy gal through the candy stand
Oh yea, got stuck on the candy man
Candy gal through the candy stand
Oh yea, got stuck on the candy man
Candy gal through the candy stand
Oh yea, got stuck on the candy man

I love my candy gal
God knows I do
Little red light, little red light
Little green light, little green light
Little red light, little red light
Little green light, blue green light
Little red light, little red light
Little green light, little green light
The light’s stuck on red but when it goes to green don’t you mess with Mr. Inbetween

Went on down to the candy stand
Found my gal with the candy man
I went on down to the candy stand
Found my gal with the candy man
Took her hand from the candy man
I said I’d be her candy man now

I love my candy gal
God knows I do

Candy man Candy man
Salty dog, Salty dog
Candy man Candy man
Salty dog, Salty dog
Candy man Candy man
Salty dog, Salty dog

Well, I wish I was down in New Orleans
Sitting on the candy stand

…

Meters – Cissy Strut

I’ve been aware of this band for years, but I didn’t think I knew much about them. I started to listen, and yes, I’ve heard this and a couple of others. If you ever need to explain what “funk” feels like, you can skip any lyrics and just drop the needle on this song. These guys are New Orleans through and through. I’ve been posting songs with grooves lately. I don’t think you can beat this one.

It was recorded in 1969 for Josie Records. This song emerged from the Crescent City’s studio scene, which gave us Allen Toussaint, Lee Dorsey, and Dr. John. If you were a rock star in the seventies, you would be traveling to New Orleans to look up the Meters to get that New Orleans style. The Meters recorded with Paul McCartney, Robert Palmer, Dr John, LaBelle, Lee Dorsey, and Allen Toussaint, to name just a few.

In the mid-1960s, keyboardist Art Neville gathered three young musicians who shared his feel for rhythm: Guitarist Leo Nocentelli, bassist George Porter Jr., and drummer Joseph “Zigaboo” Modeliste. Together, they began backing artists like Lee Dorsey under the guidance of producer Allen Toussaint.

This song was their breakout song. They toured with The Rolling Stones in 1975, bringing funk to European stadiums. Their pure talent made them one of the most in-demand rhythm sections on the planet. This song has been used in many movies like Jackie Brown, Red, Legend, and many more. Their songs have been covered by The Grateful Dead, Red Hot Chili Peppers, and Widespread Panic, to name a few.

This song peaked at #23 on the Billboard 100 and #4 on the Billboard R&B Charts in 1969. Turn it up and you can hear New Orleans itself pushing through your speakers.

…

Nashville Teens – Tobacco Road

I want to thank purplegoatee2684b071ed for bringing this song up in a comment.

I never knew much about this band. I read about them in a Who book. When the Who were having troubles in the mid-sixties, Keith Moon was thinking seriously about joining this band. I’m glad he didn’t do it, but I can see why he liked them. Very tough-sounding band in league with The Animals and Them, at least with this song. The Nashville Teens would later back Jerry Lee Lewis on his live album recorded at the Star-Club in Hamburg, which makes perfect sense; they were built for that kind of controlled chaos.

I think it would have been more powerful without as much harmonizing during the verses, but it’s good. When people talk about the British Invasion, the usual names jump out: The Beatles, The Stones, The Animals, but in there also were The Nashville Teens, a band whose name sounded American but whose sound was pure British R&B.

The Nashville Teens came out of Surrey, not Tennessee, but you wouldn’t know it from the way they attacked this song. The song itself was already a piece of southern gothic storytelling, written by John D. Loudermilk about a poor boy’s dream to rise above his dirt-poor roots. Loudermilk loved their version. He once said he’d “never imagined the song could rock that hard.” After the Nashville Teens’ success, Tobacco Road became a standard, covered by everyone from Jefferson Airplane and David Lee Roth to Rare Earth and Eric Burdon.

What really makes this jump off the record is its slow, building arrangement. It starts with a moody, almost dirge-like verse before exploding into that chorus. This is the sound of the mid-sixties British blues scene before it amped up and got stadium-sized with Cream and The Jimi Hendrix Experience.

This song peaked at #3 in Canada, #6 in the UK, #9 in New Zealand, and #14 on the Billboard 100 in 1964.

Another version of the song by Rare Earth.

Tobacco Road

I was born in a trunk.Mama died and my daddy got drunk.Left me here to die alonein the middle of Tobacco Road.

Grow up in rusty shackall I had was hangin’ on my back.Only you know how I loathethis place called Tobacco Road.

But it’s home, the only life I ever known.Only you know how I loathe Tobacco Road.

InterludeGonna leave, get a jobwith the help and the grace from above.Save some money, get rich and old

bring it back to Tobacco Road.Bring that dynamite and a crane

blow it up, start all over again.Build a town, be proud to show.Gives the name Tobacco Road.But it’s home, the only life I ever knownand it’s lost…But I lost it’s your home

…

Band – Katie’s Been Gone

I was revisiting Bob Dylan and The Band’s The Basement Tapes album. How could that many great songs come in one collection? And that is just the original version, not the expanded versions released since. I didn’t grow up with this album, unfortunately. I grew up with The Band’s Greatest Hits; the irony is, I didn’t have the greatest at all by this band with that package.

This one was written by Richard Manuel and Robbie Robertson. It’s easy to forget that this song was never meant for public ears. These were friends, playing in a basement in West Saugerties (in the Big Pink), playing for themselves after the chaos of Dylan’s electric 1966 tour. Was Katie a real person? We probably will never know, but it is widely believed to be a reference to the folk singer Karen Dalton, a friend of Bob Dylan and a popular figure in the Greenwich Village folk scene in the 1960s.

The song opens with Richard Manuel’s gospel type piano and that half-broken voice of his. Manuel was a master of singing the heartache between the notes. When Richard Manuel sings it, you believe every cracked note. Rick Danko chipped in with his usual ragged and real vocal harmonies. Those harmonies would make a pure pop producer cry, but for roots music, it’s beyond perfection. It’s those back porch vocals that are real and keep the song grounded.

Among Dylan fans, some were upset that some Band-only songs were on here. Some thought that this release would be wall-to-wall Dylan. That caused some head-scratching among Dylan diehards. In truth, Robbie Robertson and The Band had a big hand in shaping what eventually became The Basement Tapes. Robbie helped assemble and clean up the collection, selecting from reels upon reels of material recorded in 1967 at Big Pink in Woodstock. He included Band-only tracks like this song, Bessie Smith, Orange Juice Blues, and Ain’t No More Cane, not because they were Dylan-free, but because they fit the mood. Fitting the mood is what The Band did best.

Robbie Robertson:“Because of all this stuff the Hawks had been through, [we had] a maturity in our musical taste, in our approach. We didn’t feel a part of what was happening at that time out in the world. We weren’t very good at being trendy. It wasn’t that we tried not to do anything, it was just we were evolving to a place and a musicality that had subtleties. Music was just getting louder and more abrasive.

“I understood the attitude and the anger and the excitement of everything that was happening, but we’d already done that. I started with Ronnie Hawkins and screaming on my guitar. [laughs] And now to be able to really play and think: we didn’t use these phrases at the time, but it’s what you leave out — and less is more. There was something about things that just slipped in and what that did to your heartbeat and how it made you feel. It was sexy and it was beautiful and sad and a celebration all at the same time. I thought that’s where we’ve grown to and that’s where we’re going with this.”

Katie’s Been Gone

Katie’s been gone since the springtimeShe wrote one time and sent her loveKatie’s been gone for such a long time nowI wonder what kind of love she’s thinkin’ of

Dear KatieIf you can hear meI can’t wait to have ya near me

Dear Katie, since ya caught that busWell, I just don’t know how things are with usI’m still here and you’re out there somewhere

Katie laughed when I said I was lonelyShe said, “There’s no need to feel that way”Katie said that I was her only oneBut then I wonder why she didn’t wanna stay

Dear Katie, if I’m the only oneHow much longer will you be gone?Oh, Katie, won’t ya tell me straightHow much longer do I have to wait?

I’ll believe youBut please come throughI know it’s wrong to be apart this longYou should be here, near me

Katie’s been gone and now her face is slowly fading from my mindShe’s gone to find some newer placesAnd left the old life far behindDear Katie, don’t ya miss your home?I don’t see why you had to roam

Dear Katie, since you’ve been awayI lose a little something every dayI need you here, but you’re still out thereDear Katie, please drop me a lineJust write, Love, to tell me you’re fine

Oh, Katie, if you can hear meI just cant wait to have you near meI can only thinkWhere are youWhat ya do, maybe there’s someone new

Rolling Stones – Monkey Man

Yeah, I’m a sack of broken eggs
I always have an unmade bed
Don’t you?

This song is a great album cut. The way I would describe the song? It is the actual sound of sleaze, and that is a compliment. It was used well in Goodfellas, the 1990 movie, in a scene where the gangsters are trafficking cocaine. One of my favorite Stone songs. I always liked the Stones album cuts more than their hits. This is when they had the perfect producer (Jimmy Miller), the perfect guitar player (Keith Richards), and the perfect sound. This is the Stones I love, their golden period.

What makes this song is Keith Richards’ riff, and it is menacing and on the prowl, practically alive in this song, stalking you outside your bedroom window. Only Keith could make a riff sound dangerous, and it builds up through the song. Richards laid down the main riff on a late-night jam, a hypnotic riff, with just enough space for Nicky Hopkins to work in his piano. Hopkins’ playing on this is greatness: melodic and sinister all at once. He reportedly improvised much of it, adding those runs that make the song snarl.

This song was on Let It Bleed, and it was recorded after Brian Jones was fired and before Mick Taylor replaced him. On Monkey Man, Keith Richards played electric and slide electric guitar, Bill Wyman played bass, and producer Jimmy Miller assisted drummer Charlie Watts on tambourine. Mick Jagger and Keith Richards wrote “Monkey Man” as a tribute to Italian pop artist Mario Schifano, whom they met on the set of his movie Umano Non Umano! (Human, Not Human!).

This song is the Let It Bleed track I always come back to when I want to feel the Stones at their most human and feral.

Monkey Man

I’m a fleabit peanut monkey
And all my friends are junkies
That’s not really true

I’m a cold Italian pizza
I could use a lemon squeezer
What you do?

But I’ve been bit and I’ve been tossed around
By every she-rat in this town
Have you babe?

But I am just a monkey man
I’m glad you are a monkey woman too

I was bitten by a boar
I was gouged and I was gored
But I pulled on through

Yeah, I’m a sack of broken eggs
I always have an unmade bed
Don’t you?

Well I hope we’re not too messianic
Or a trifle too satanic
But we love to play the blues

But well I am just a monkey man
I’m glad you are a monkey woman too
Monkey woman too babe

I’m a monkey man
I’m a monkey man
I’m a monkey man
I’m a monkey man
I’m a monkey
I’m a monkey
I’m a monkey
I’m a monkey
Monkey, monkey
Monkey

Monkey
I’m a monkey

Them – Gloria

Please pardon the personal story…but, you should be used to it by now, by the way I go on. I hope I haven’t told this story before, but if I have…I apologize. This is just one of the songs we played.

This song belongs right beside Louie Louie and Wild Thing as a staple of garage band rock. Three chords… E D A, and you are off to the races. A beginner guitar player can emulate this song rather well. When I was in high school, the band I was in… played this song. We would play more challenging songs, of course, but this one always got a good response and participation from the crowd with the call-and-answer lyrics.

When I was a senior, we played in the “fall frolics” (rock bands, singers) in our high school gym, and I had a couple of friends who were curious/envious and wanted to know how it felt to play in front of people. We had been playing at parties and a bar (shhhh yea we were underage) by this time. What I did was show one of them this song on bass…it’s that easy… and the other one we handed a tambourine and told him to participate in the chorus.

For that one song, we called them up and they got to know how it felt. I ran into one of them a few years back, and he thanked me again. He said it was one of the scariest but best moments he ever had in high school.

Sorry for the detour… This song was by “Them,” which featured no other than Van the Man Morrison (who also wrote the song). It peaked at #93 in the Billboard 100 in 1965 and #71 in 1966.

Morrison wrote this song while fronting Them at the Maritime Hotel in Belfast, often using it as their closer, a song that could stretch to ten minutes or more depending on the crowd and Van’s mood. Recorded at Decca Studios in London, it was originally the B-side to Baby, Please Don’t Go. Ironically, this song would outlive its A-side by miles, becoming a rock ’n’ roll rite of passage for any band that could play an A, D, and E chord. Well…their version of Baby, Please Don’t Go is my definite version of the song.

The song charted higher for The Shadows of Knight in 1966 at #10 on the Billboard 100, but this is the version I listen to. Finding Them at 18 led me to Van Morrison, which I have followed ever since. The first thing I did was order an album from the UK, which I still have with many of their hits.

At this stage in their career, sometimes, some session musicians played on Them’s records instead of the actual band, although Van Morrison did the real singing. One of these session players was Jimmy Page, who played guitar on this song.

In the video below…is that a donkey they flash to?

Gloria

Like to tell you ’bout my baby
You know she comes around
Just ’bout five feet-four
A-from her head to the ground
You know she comes around here
At just about midnight
She make me feel so good, Lord
She make me feel all right

And her name is G-L-O-R-I
G-L-O-R-I-A
Gloria!
G-L-O-R-I-A
Gloria!
I’m gonna shout it all night
Gloria!
I’m gonna shout it every day
Gloria!
Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah

She comes around here
Just about midnight
She make me feel so good, Lord
I want to say she make me feel all right
Comes a-walkin’ down my street
Then she comes up to my house
She knock upon my door
And then she comes to my room
Yeah, and she make me feel all right

G-L-O-R-I-A
Gloria!
G-L-O-R-I-A
Gloria!
I’m gonna shout it all night
Gloria!
I’m gonna shout it every day
Gloria!
Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah
So good
Gloria!
All right
Feels so good
Gloria!
All right, yeah

Yardbirds – Over, Under, Sideways, Down

The 1966 song begins loudly with a snake-charming-sounding riff by Jeff Beck. It jumps out of the turntable. I had one of the many Yardbirds greatest hits packages in the 1980s and became a fan.

Jeff also plays the bass on this song. When you talk about the Yardbirds, you almost have to pick which Yardbirds you’re talking about. The Clapton Yardbirds? The Jeff Beck Yardbirds? The Page Yardbirds? They were a band in constant transition, always chasing the next sound (and guitar player). With Jeff Beck holding the guitar reins, they gave us one of their strangest and coolest singles.

From the opening guitar riff, you know you’re not in typical British Invasion territory. The tune was inspired by Middle Eastern scales. The band had been soaking up Indian and Eastern music around the same time the Beatles were dabbling in sitars. Instead of George Harrison’s spiritual leanings, though, the Yardbirds went for having a good time at all costs.

The song was a group composition, something the Yardbirds often did to keep things fair. Beck’s guitar is the real star, but the whole band had a hand in shaping its feel. It was one of their last sessions with bassist Paul Samwell-Smith, who would leave shortly afterward to focus on production. Chris Dreja, their rhythm guitarist, has said the song captured the manic, party-heavy atmosphere of their lives at the time.

Over, Under, Sideways, Down peaked at #13 in the Billboard 100 and #10 in the UK in 1966. I must say it’s one of my all-time favorite titles.

Jim McCarty: “‘Over Under Sideways Down’ was about the situation of having a good time – a bit of decadence, really – in the ’60s. Cars and girls are easy to come by in this day and age, and laughing, drinking, smoking, whatever, till I’ve spent my wages, having fun.”

Jim McCarty: “On ‘Over Under Sideways Down’ I think we all put in our bit. I put in a tune, somebody else said, ‘How about the state of things at the moment, it’s all over the place, so it’s sort of over, under, Sideways, down.'”

Jim McCarty: “It’s very much up and down. Yeah, it was very much like a microcosm of a life, really. Very extreme, because we’d go from being on top of the charts and going to fantastic places and traveling to places like California that were just our dream after being in a sort of post-war London, which was rather dismal and rather miserable. Suddenly we were going to sunny California where things were happening and things were rich and there were lovely girls and cars and everything. From that to sitting all night in a bus driving to a gig and not being able to stop and feeling absolutely wretched from being so tired. And getting on each other’s nerves and arguing. (laughing) So it’s very much the extreme life.”

Jeff Beck: “I actually didn’t have a guitar of my own, I was so hard up. The Yardbirds sort of sneaked Eric’s guitar out. He’d finished using the red Tele (Fender Telecaster)
and was using a Les Paul, so he didn’t care about the red Tele. The bands manager, said well, ‘You’d better use Eric’s guitar—we can’t afford to go out and buy one now.’ So I borrowed Eric’s for the first couple of gigs”.

Over, Under, Sideways, Down

(Hey! Hey! Hey! Hey!)
Cars and girls are easy come by in this day and age.
Laughing, joking, dreams, weed smoking, till I’ve spent my wage.
When I was young, people spoke of immorality.
All the things they said were wrong are what I want to be.

(Hey!) Over, under, sideways, down,
(Hey!) I bounce a ball that’s square and round.
(Hey!) Over, under, sideways, down,
(Hey!) I bounce a ball that’s square and round.
When will it end? (When will it end?)
When will it end? (When will it end?)

(Hey! Hey! Hey! Hey!)
I find comments ’bout my looks irrelativity.
Think I’ll go and have some fun, ’cause it’s all for free.
I’m not searchin’ for a reason to enjoy myself.
Seems it’s better done than argue with somebody else.

Jackie Wilson – (Your Love Keeps Lifting Me) Higher And Higher

There are so many versions of this song out there, and I like many of them… It’s that good a song. But, Jackie Wilson had a way of taking a song and turning it into pure energy, something bigger than rhythm and melody. When he recorded this song in 1967, he gave soul music one of its best anthems of pure joy. I can’t dislike this song.

Jackie Wilson almost didn’t get this one. The song was originally cut by The Dells, but Brunswick producer Carl Davis didn’t think their version worked. The track sat on the shelf until Davis and arranger Sonny Sanders decided to hand it to Jackie. At the time, Wilson’s career was in a bit of a stall; this song was intended as a shot in the arm. Wilson thought it was a bit light at first, but when he started to sing it, they knew they had something great here. It was written by Raynard Miner, Gary Jackson, and Carl Smith.

Billy Davis secretly recruited members of Motown’s Funk Brothers, James Jamerson on bass, Richard “Pistol” Allen on drums, Robert White on guitar, guys who were technically under contract at Hitsville but were moonlighting for extra cash. Their tight groove gave this song that perfect sound.

It was released as a single in August 1967, and it immediately reignited Wilson’s career. Critics hailed it as a perfect marriage of “gospel fire and pop.” And you know how some songs wear out with too many plays? This one doesn’t. Whether it’s on a movie soundtrack or my car radio, it still hits home and makes me smile.

The song peaked at #6 on the Billboard 100 in 1967.

(Your Love Keeps Lifting Me) Higher And Higher

Your love, lifting me higher
Than I’ve ever been lifted before
So keep it it up
Quench my desire
And I’ll be at your side, forever more

You know your love (your love keeps lifting me)
Keep on lifting (love keeps lifting me)
Higher (lifting me)
Higher and higher (higher)
I said your love (your love keeps lifting me)
Keep on (love keeps lifting me)
Lifting me (lifting me)
Higher and higher (higher)
Now listen

Now once, I was down-hearted
Disappointment, was my closest friend
But then you, came and it soon departed
And you know he never
Showed his face again

That’s why your love (your love keeps lifting me)
Keep on lifting (love keeps lifting me)
Higher (lifting me)
Higher and higher (higher)
I said your love (your love keeps lifting me)
Keep on (love keeps lifting me)
Lifting me (lifting me)
Higher and higher (higher)

I’m so glad, I’ve finally found you
Yes that one, in a million girls
And I whip, my loving arms around you
I can stand up, and face the world

Let me tell ya, your love (your love keeps lifting me)
Keep on lifting (love keeps lifting me)
Higher (lifting me)
Higher and higher (higher)
I said your love (your love keeps lifting me)
Keep on (love keeps lifting me)
Lifting me (lifting me)
Higher and higher (higher)

Now sock it to me
Hold me, the other woman
Keep my love going
Higher and higher
I said keep on lifting
Lift me up mama
Keep on lifting me
Higher and higher

Sonics – Psycho

I love classic garage rock music, and this is one of the bands that started that genre. This is why I love it, because it’s raw and unpolished music. Warts and all, it has spirit and drive.

They formed in Tacoma, Washington, in 1960. A band of teenagers who didn’t care about technique and weren’t interested in following the normal pop/rock rules. They just wanted to be loud and dangerous.

The original lineup, Gerry Roslie, Larry Parypa, Andy Parypa, Rob Lind, and Bob Bennett, came together with one mission: to play harder and wilder than anyone else on the Pacific Northwest scene. The Kingsmen were in this scene as well with their hit Louie, Louie. The Sonics never cracked the national charts, but in the Pacific Northwest, they were very popular. They were on AM radio throughout the area and hit the joints and dance halls.

Their first album was in 1965 called Here Come The Sonics!!!. The sessions were done at Audio Recording, Inc. in Seattle, a modest studio that had nowhere near the cutting-edge equipment of Abbey Road or other studios. That limitation helped make their sound. Engineer Kearney Barton placed the microphones farther away, letting the room’s natural reverb and bleed create a live sound. Barton sharpened edges rather than smoothing them. That rough edge is exactly why the song still sounds so alive today. You can put it next to The Stooges, The Ramones, or Nirvana, and it fits right in.

Their debut album, Here Are the Sonics, was released in 1965 and is still a pre-punk landmark. The Sonics reunited in the 2000s with most of the original lineup, playing festivals and recording new material that still carried the old sound.

Here is a reunited Sonics in 2015

Psycho

Whoa baby, you’re driving me crazyI said baby, you’re driving me crazyOh, well you turn me on, then you shut me downOh well, tell me baby, am I just your clown?PsychoOw, oh wow, baby, you’re driving me crazyI said I’m losing my mind, you treat me so unkindPsychoOw! Whoa!Ow, oh wow, baby, you’re driving me crazyI’m going out of my head, and now I wish I was deadPsychoWhoa baby, whoa you’re driving me crazyI’m going out of my head, now I wish I was deadWhoa, psychoWhoa, psychoWhoa, psychoWhoa, psychoWhoa, whoa

…

Status Quo – Pictures of Matchstick Men

I always had a soft spot for this song. It is a swirl of guitar phasing and a droning riff that seems tailor-made for the late 1960s.

Their manager, John Schroeder, who’d worked with Motown acts in the UK, booked studio time at Pye Records’ Marble Arch facility. The Pye studios were initially designed as a service for Pye Records, but also encouraged recording by outside artists. Schroeder not only produced the track but was also the one who encouraged Francis Rossi to push forward with this strange little song he’d written at home.

One of the fascinating things about Pictures of Matchstick Men is that it represents a “what if” moment in Status Quo’s history. Had they continued down this psychedelic path, you wonder how long it would have lasted. Instead, after a few more singles, they turned into a rocking boogie band.

Listening today, the song feels like an anomaly. It’s not representative of the band’s long career, but it’s a classic slice of psychedelic pop that holds its own. It was the first taste of chart success, the beginning of a 50-year run, and yet it’s also the sound of a band that almost became something completely different.

This song’s riff will stick with you. Once the riff is up, it washes over you with a psychedelic feel. The song peaked at #12 on the Billboard 100, #8 in Canada, and #7 on the UK Charts in 1968. This was their only hit in America. One quirky detail: the inspiration for the lyric came from wallpaper. Rossi was sitting in the bathroom, staring at the bathroom wall, and saw patterns that reminded him of the artist L.S. Lowry’s “Matchstick Men” paintings.

Pictures Of Matchstick Men

When I look up to the skies
I see your eyes a funny kind of yellow
I rush home to bed I soak my head
I see your face underneath my pillow
I wake next morning tired still yawning
See your face come peeking through my window
Pictures of matchstick men and you
Mirages of matchstick men and you
All I ever see is them and you

[guitar intro]

Windows echo your reflection
When I look in their direction gone
When will this haunting stop
Your face it just wont leave me a-lone
Pictures of matchstick men and you
Mirages of matchstick men and you
All I ever see is them and you
You in the sky you with this guy you make men cry you lie
You in the sky you with this guy you make men cry you lie

Pictures of matchstick men, Pictures of matchstick…

Small Faces – You Need Loving

This song exemplifies why I like the Small Faces so much. I’ve been listening to this song for years, and I can’t believe it was made in 1966. It was at least a couple of years before its time. Jimmy Page was listening very closely. Steve Marriott was asked to join Zeppelin later on, but his manager put a stop to it. Robert Plant has said he was heavily influenced by Steve Marriott, and if you want proof, listen to this recording. This song was written by Willie Dixon, and I think Zeppelin listened to this version more than Dixon…because Whole Lotta Love came out of it.

Looking back, this is more than just an album cut; it’s an early marker of what British rock would become. You can trace a direct line from this track to Zeppelin, Free, and all the blues-rock that followed. I always thought the Small Faces never got the credit they deserved. People in America only heard Lazy Sunday and Itchycoo Park because their manager would never let them tour the US.

The Small Faces were a band that always played bigger than their small size. If the Small Faces had had a good or even decent manager, they might have had a longer career and be more remembered today. They had a couple of great songwriters, Steve Marriott and Ronnie Lane. A superb drummer with Kenney Jones and keyboard player Ian McLagan. They were laying down some of the rawest R&B-inspired rock coming out of Britain. This song, on their debut album Small Faces, is a perfect example.

A YouTube comment on this song was crude and rude, but I endorse: Steve m*thaf*ckin’ Marriott. The ultimate rock & roll voice.

You Need Loving

Woah you foolin’Come and get coolin’I’m gonna send you right back to school, alrightMake your way down the new side girlYou know how woman, you need lovin’, lovin’, alrightI know you need lovin’ you here, oh yeah, alright

That’s right, well I’ve been yearnin’Hey baby you’ve been burnin’We’ll have a fun time, alrightYou’ll get some lovin’Cause baby we’re gonna excite youDeep in your heart woman, you need lovin’, yeah,oh lovin’, alrightThat’s all you need, lovin’ baby, yeah, alright

Eeny-meeny-miney-moEeny-meeny-miney-moCan’t take it no moreI can’t monkey and I can’t dogCan’t do the monkey, yeahI said you know how to ponyMony-baloney, I took you to the flyerPassed me byOh rock your ponyMashed potatoSaid I want to show youI want to show youIt’s alright, it’s alright…

Woman you need loving, yeah

…