Bubblegum University - artists

Animation + Rock = Fun: The Danny Hutton Interview

Mon, 26 Mar 2007 12:10:15 -0700

Animation + Rock = Fun: The Danny Hutton Interview

by Chris Davidson

Pal to big Brian Wilson, L.A. scenester of long-standing (and, oh yeah, one-third of Three Dog Night!), Danny Hutton will live forever in the collective bubblegum consciousness for one additional and amazing reason: he worked for the grandpappy of cartoon rock labels—Hanna Barbera Records. For a year beginning in 1965, Hutton acted as the label’s resident hip youngster and recorded three of the company’s best forays into the pure pop 45 market. He also lent vocals and studio know-how to the maddest cartoon rock album of all—Monster Shindig, a bizarre horror-rock conglomeration credited to “Super-Snooper and Blabber Mouse, the Gruesomes of the Flintstones, Dracula, Frankenstein, the Mummy, and the Wolf Man.” (What, no Morocco Mole?)

HBR hit with the Five Americans’ “I See the Light” during Hutton’s tenure with the label and went on to release a hefty amount of garage, light psych and pop over the next couple of years, including “Blue Theme” by the Hogs (AKA the Chocolate Watchband). While the majority of singles appear to have been one-off national distribution deals with bands experiencing regional chart noise, HBR long-players took the animated TV characters as a starting point and crafted dozens of mind-splitting vinyl adventures and hot session-man rock-and-roll.

Danny Hutton arrived at the start of HBR’s pop barnstorming.

Chris Davidson: How’d you get started with Hanna Barbera Records? Was that your first experience with a record label?

Danny Hutton: I was working in the warehouse for Disney/Buena Vista Records. I was basically a grunt during the day at work, but at night I hung around in the L.A. musician spots, like IHOP across from Hollywood High and Liberty Records, where I used to see Sonny & Cher, Jan & Dean, and those people. I had put out a couple of records already. My first was as the Chartermen on Invicta Records. It was called “Winken, Blinken and Nod.” This was done through Kim Fowley, who I was introduced to by Pat and Lolly Vegas. Kim actually lived up in my attic for awhile. I also had a single out on ALMO Records called “Home in Pasadena.” That was released as Daring Dan Hutton. Then I cut “Farmer’s Daughter” on Mercury as Basil Swift and the Seagrams. One day, a guy named Larry Goldberg contacted me. He was trying to get something happening at HBR. He was sort of an A&R guy, a hustler, not a musician. But he brought me into the deal as proof of his street credentials. I was a young musician, so HBR gave me a half-hour tryout. In that time, I wrote two songs, so they gave me a job!

CD: Did you cut the songs you wrote for the audition?

DH: Yes. The first song was called “Nothing at All.” I did all the vocal and instrumental parts on the record, and it was released as the Bats [HBR 445]. It was all me! The other song was “Big Bright Eyes,” which we recorded as the B-side. We did the whole session at Western Studios in six hours. I wrote “Big Bright Eyes” in the studio in ten minutes.

CD: That was one of the best singles on HBR. “Big Bright Eyes” was later a local hit for you in L.A.

DH: The version that later came out [HBR 453] under my name was the same version as the Bats, but with a different backing track. We took the original, which was more acoustic and made it more pop.

CD: What about “Roses and Rainbows,” your other L.A. hit before “Big Bright Eyes?” Wasn’t that the song they used for your appearance on The Flintstones?

DH: “Roses and Rainbows” was a big hit in town. I think it was helped along when Billboard featured it on a flexi disk in one of their issues. I really had no intention of performing live at the time. I considered myself a studio guy. But the label put the single out under my name [HBR447], set me up with a manager and started promoting me as a solo act. One day they asked if I wanted to be in The Flintstones, and right after that they showed me the finished product. I didn’t do anything. They just used the released version of “Roses and Rainbows” in the show. Funny story about The Flintstones. When I met my wife, Laurie, she told me she’d seen the episode I was in and fell in love with me on TV. She fell in love with me from the cartoon!

CD: Now, that’s a woman! Can you tell me about the flip to “Roses and Rainbows?”

DH: “Monster Shindig” was on the back.

CD: It’s a wild song and also the title track of a great HBR album [HLP2020]. Did you do the other songs on that record—“Super Snooper” and “The Monster Jerk?”

DH: That was me. I don’t remember the session too much, but I know I worked on that record. I contributed a lot to the albums being made at the time.

CD: What else do you recall about your time with the label? Did you run into any of the other acts?

DH: I was there from the very beginning, when they were just moving in the furniture. It was about a year all together. I always felt like it was more of an experiment than anything else, a cartoon company trying out the record business. The Guilloteens were being worked in L.A. [three singles on the label], but I never met the Five Americans. They never had a presence in L.A. It was a great time while it lasted, though, and definitely helped me get a leg up in the business.

Selected Discography of Hanna Barbera Records

SINGLE GROUP TITLE

HBR 445 The Bats Nothing At All / Big Bright Eyes

HBR 446 The Guilloteens I Don't Believe (Call On Me) / Hey You

HBR 447 Danny Hutton Roses and Rainbows / Monster Shindig

HBR 451 The Guilloteens For My Own / Don't Let The Rain Get You Down

HBR 453 Danny Hutton Big Bright Eyes/ Monster Shindig Part 2

HBR 454 Five Americans I See the Light / The Outcast

HBR 462 Art Grayson Be Ever Mine / When I Get Home

HBR 468 Five Americans EVOL Not Love / Don't Blame Me

HBR 472 Dale & Grace I'd Rather Be Free / Let Them Talk

HBR 473 Charles Christy In The Arms Of A Girl

HBR 476 Scat Man Crothers Golly Zonk! (It’s Scat Man) / What's A Nice Girl Like You Doing In A Place Like This?"

HBR 477 The Dimensions (Five) She's Boss / Penny

HBR 482 The Tidal Waves Farmer John / She Left Me Alone

HBR 483 Five Americans Good Times / The Losing Game

HBR 485 Riot Squad I Take It We’re Through

HBR 486 The Guilloteens I Sit And Cry / Crying All Over My Time

HBR 488 Ron Gray Hold Back The Sunrise

HBR 489 Ronnie & Robyn Cradle Of Love / Dreamin'

HBR 492 13th Floor Elevators You’re Gonna Miss Me / Tried To Hide

HBR 494 Dynatones The Fife Piper / I Always Will

HBR 495 Scotty McKay Waikiki Beach / I'm Gonna Love You

HBR 500 Positively Thirteen O'Clock

Psychotic Reaction / 13 O' Clock Theme

HBR 501 The Tidal Waves Big Boy Pete / I Don't Need Love

HBR 506 Dewayne & the Beldettas Hurtin’

HBR 507 W.C. Fields Memorial Electric String Band

Hippy Elevator Operator /Don't Lose The Girl

HBR 508 The New Breed Want Ad Reader / One More For The Good Guys

HBR 509 The Four Gents Soul Sister / I've Been Trying

HBR 511 The Hogs Blue Theme / Loose Lip Sync Ship

HBR 513 Sunny Lane Tell It Like It Was / Trollin'

HBR 514 The Unrelated Segments

Story Of My Life / It's Unfair

HBR 515 The Tidal Waves Action (Speaks Louder Than Words) / Hot Stuff

HBR 516 The Timestoppers I Need Love / Fickle Frog

HBR ? The Countdowns Hold Back The Sunrise / The Shake

ALBUM GROUP TITLE

HLP 2020 Super-Snooper & Blabber Mouse Monster Shindig

HLP 2021 Flintstones Goldilocks

HLP 2023 Yogi Bear & Boo Boo Red Riding Hood & Jack and the Beanstalk

HLP 2024 Magilla Gorilla Alice in Wonderland

HLP 2025 Pixie & Dixie Cinderella

HLP 2026 Snagglepuss Tells The Story Of The Wizard Of Oz

HLP 2027 Wilma Flintstone Tells The Story Of Bambi

HLP 2028 Doggie Daddy Pinocchio

HLP 2029 Touche Turtle & Dum Dum The Reluctant Dragon

HLP 2030 Johnny Quest 20,000 Leagues Under the Sea

HLP 2031 Top Cat Robin Hood

HLP 2037 Jetsons First Family on the Moon

HLP 2041 Atom Ant Muscle Magic

HLP 2043 Squiddly Diddly Surfin’ Surfari

HLP 8503 Five Americans I See The Light

HLP 8504 Renaissance Society Baroque ‘N Stones

HLP? Gene Kelly Jack and the Beanstalk TV Soundtrack

HLP ? Hillbilly Bears Hillbilly Shindig

HLP ? Winsome Witch It's Magic

HLP ? Flintstones & Jose Jiminez The Time Machine

HLP ? Yogi Bear Mad Mad Dr No No

HLP ? The Flintstones S.A.S.F.A.T.P.O.G.O.B.S.O.A.L.T.

HLP ? Precious Pupp Hot Rod Granny

HLP ? Secret Squirrel & Morocco Mole Super Spy

HLP ? Fred & Barney Mary Poppins

HLP ? Super-Snooper & Blabber Mouse James Bomb

HLP ? Jetsons First Family on the Moon

HLP ? Sinbad Jr. Treasure Island

HLP ? Pebbles & Bamm Bamm Good Ship Lollipop

1910 Fruitgum Co. - The Best of CD (Repertoire)

Mon, 27 Nov 2006 10:57:13 -0800

Not to be confused with the similarly-titled BMG collection for which I wrote the notes in 2001 (see below). If you're seeking the most of this splendid bubblegum band you'll need to pick up both discs, as there are six songs on the earlier release not on this mainly singles selection, among them the essential "1910 Cotton Candy Castle." But if only one Fruitgum comp is in your future, it'd be hard to compete with this 28-track behemoth. I wish BMG had been as ambitious with their own vault artists as Germany's Repertoire label! You'd have to dig through a lot of scuffy vinyl to assemble a comparable analog collection spanning the short, delicious career of this most infantile of semi-imaginary Buddah combos. Kicking off with the schoolyard earworm hits (including "Simon Says," "Indian Giver" and "1-2-3 Red Light"), the disc also spotlights the band (or its studio doppelgangers) in its jazzy, psychedelic and garagey manifestations. The b-sides are highlights (and a rare chance to enjoy band-penned compositions), like the growling bad girl raver "No Good Annie," and the Chinese psych-out "Reflections from the Looking Glass." Equally great are the retarded (in a good way) "Sticky Sticky" and the Link-Wray-in-orbit stylings of "Baby Bret." The comp closes with several scarce Italian-language tracks, from the Fruitgums' late, barely-noticed Continental phase, including the exquisitely spooky "C'e Qualcosa Che Non Picardo Piu." The booklet includes notes from John Tracy and a selection of colorful 45 sleeves, sheet music covers and oddities.

Read Kim Cooper's notes from The Best of the 1910 Fruitgum Company.

Sunshine Pop by Chris Davidson

Tue, 29 Aug 2006 13:54:30 -0700

Sunshine Pop
by Chris Davidson

What can sunshine pop hope to prove in this evil, angry world? Sunshine pop—the effervescent song of rampant happiness. A thousand hummingbirds grooving to newly discovered nectar. The virginal essence of pop, wispy and white and skimmed off a cool vanilla milkshake to be infused with gleeful melody. The together timbre of the Association, the pleasing gum-snap of the Yellow Balloon, or—most perfectly—the dazzling choral layercake of the Cowsills. What chance do these sun-drenched sounds have with us moderns?

Those with the faintest longing for purity know well the uplifting—nay the inspiring—power of this music. At its most blinding it matches bubblegum’s oomph note for note. But not for sunshine pop the sexual subtext or nasal bleating: where bubblegum says, “I got love in my tummy,” s-pop exclaims: “I love the flower girl.” A fine line, to be sure. Over here one type of joyful noise, over there another. But darn it if sunshine pop isn’t its own cheerful potpourri of twirling, exuberant arrangements and over-the-bra lovey-doveyness. Baroque pop, you ask? Not really, although the harpsichord features prominently at times, and an Old World flavor definitely pervades. Folk rock, then? Not quite, despite an acoustic drop cloth on which everything eventually lands. The balance is precarious. The peel of a harmonica or improper throaty vocal will snatch an otherwise frisky sunshine tune from your grasp and deposit it back into the standard 1960s pop camp.

Sunshine pop had a fling with the best-seller crowd in the mid-’60s—or, more correctly, light harmony pop did, for its lush harmonies and wistful themes approached but did not capture the oblique and melancholy X Factor of sunshine pop. Radio staples like “Younger Girl” and “Love (Can Make You Happy)” came close. Reams of sublime examples ducked beneath the charts. Bubbling under, the likes of the Sunshine Company’s “I Just Want To Be Your Friend” the well documented “The Grooviest Girl In The World” and “California My Way” by the Committee turned us gay with AM delight.

Some b-gum stars straddled both camps—the Archies’ “Sugar and Spice” is sun-baked like Dennis Wilson’s split ends. But sunshine pop is best discovered in the margins of bubblegum where the acknowledged luminaries took a backseat to a simplified (and remarkably moving) emotional milieu, an endless series of first dates and the blinding optimism of youth. Hit and flop alike, speak softly, and behold sunshine pop’s gentle-hearted best and brightest:

The Beach Boys
Traced directly to these rapturous lads, the roots of sunshine pop reside not so much with the overplayed hits as with certain pre-Pet Sounds album cuts. The trick is the rich B. Wilson production, which piles high the harmonies—a central facet and key differentiator between straight surf vocal disks and the true sunny stuff. Sunshine pop is, after all, less about summer rock-and-roll and more about the evocation of summer shadiness, a delicate point. A thousand harmony-laden masterpieces owe patent infringement damages to “In the Parking Lot” and especially “Let Him Run Wild.”

The Association
Too freshman-year earnest after their first hits to qualify as mainstays of the movement, the Association delivered a superb first album—And Then Along Comes The Association—overseen by producer Curt Boettcher and featuring tight bursts of harmony pop shrapnel. Forgive the facial hair for their still-thrilling “Along Comes Mary.”

The Cowsills
Optimism rock—family division. The vociferous Cowsill brood galvanized Rhode Island with the most gleaming pipes of all, a team of precision instruments tightly wound like a teenage Magnificent Seven. After a few flop singles, the tribe exploded with towering, sun-basted material: “The Rain, The Park And Other Things” “Gray, Sunny Day” “We Can Fly” and, most euphoric of all, “All My Days” part of a Cowsills EP sponsored by the American Dairy Association (fully one-sixth of tiny R.I.’s milk supply is suspected to have been consumed by a Cowsill).

The Bee Gees
Happy in spurts amidst ever-present (but very welcome) pensiveness, the Bee Gees mastered the pop form while still teens. The early Australian recordings point skyward while simultaneously staring down and come extremely close to sunshine pop without fully capitulating. Still, brothers in lock-step harmony singing about butterflies says include them with an asterisk. Said “Butterfly” is a good place to begin. “Cherry Red” and “Spicks and Specks” receive extra points for overcoming the Euro-sunshine curse, as relatively few overseas pals convincingly linked up with this sound (is it even possible to be truly happy outside of the U.S.?). Yes, the Hollies came a breadth away with “Everything Is Sunshine.”

Yellow Balloon
Gary Zekley, SoCal insider and one of many budding maestros orbiting the Wilson camp mid-decade, found chart fame producing the Clique’s “Sugar On Sunday” and writing hits for the Grass Roots. Of his earlier work, this delicious ‘67 album typifies the airy and upbeat mini-Spector density found on the most atmospheric s-pop. The Yellow B.’s self-titled theme song was also cut by a Jan-less Jan and Dean on the lost, but since rediscovered, Save For A Rainy Day LP. No better full-length specimens of sunshine pop exist.

The Ballroom / Sagittarius / Millennium
Surfacing soon after his association with the “Along Comes Mary” crew, Curt Boettcher launched a harmony steamship with a trio of worthy vessels. In quick succession, the Ballroom gave way to the Gary Usher-led Sagittarius which sired the stud-filled Millennium. The constant? Boettcher’s ability to wrest symphonic miracles on cut after cut of California vapor-pop.

The Vision
“Small Town Commotion” b/w “Keepin’ Your Eyes On The Sun” (UNI). Top side, a complex weaving tale of a fiery municipal disaster. The flip provides a luscious Gary Zekley artifact (produced under the nom du rock Yodar Critch), a perfectly realized distillation of July using girl backup, harps and a driving beat. Zeke’s command: walk with me awhile and smile.

Wind
“Make Believe” b/w “Groovin’ With Mr. Bloe” (Life). Uplifting melodious bubblegum masquerading as a 4 Seasons-like beat ballad. Joey Levine involvement. Slice off the harmful instrumental flip side, and a sun is born.

The Pleasure Fair
“Morning Glory Days” b/w “Fade In Fade Out” (UNI). Add one more entry to David Gates’ long cool-guy resume. Gee-whiz harmony with light orchestral fanfare, like a very white Fifth Dimension (perhaps the Fourth Dimension in disguise).

Hyle King Movement
“Flower Smile” b/w “Forever ‘N Ever” (Liberty). Atmospheric swirl akin to Sergio Mendes harmonizing in a hot-house garden—plus decidedly hippie sentiments told in a deliciously un-hippie manner.

Press Release: Andy Kim two-fer reissues due in July

Wed, 31 May 2006 11:10:36 -0700

This press release just in:

ANDY KIM, CO-WRITER OF “SUGAR SUGAR,” IS SWEET ON COLLECTORS’ CHOICE MUSIC

Four albums by last of the Brill Building artists (How’d We Ever Get This Way/Rainbow Ride and Baby I Love You/Andy Kim) to be reissued on two CDs on July 18

LOS ANGELES, Calif. — Andy Kim has sold millions of records, but most people are under the impression he sold mere hundreds of thousands. The reason is simple. Although Kim had many hits under his own name (“How’d We Ever Get This Way,” “Baby I Love You,” “Rock Me Gently” and “So Good Together,” to name a few), he co-wrote (with Jeff Barry) the Archies’ mega-hit “Sugar Sugar,” which sold 6 million 45 RPM units. Ron Dante provided the magic voice. Yet the fans never saw the scaffolding behind the scenes. The Archies, after all, consisted of Archie, Jughead, Reggie, Betty and Veronica, right?

Collectors’ Choice Music on July 18 will re-release four Andy Kim LPs via two loaded CDs: How’d We Ever Get This Way mates with Rainbow Ride to document Kim’s 1968-69 output, while Baby I Love You is conjoined with the eponymous Andy Kim. All albums except for Andy Kim (which was on Uni Records) were originally released on Steed Records, which was founded in 1967 by songwriter/producer Barry as a division of Jeff Barry Enterprises. Distribution was through Dot Records. It was another era, to be sure.

Andy Kim, the man with the magic pipes, was born Andre Youakim in Montreal and at age 16 arrived in New York, where he played a song for his Brill Building hero Jeff Barry. Thus began one of the most successful songwriting partnerships of the late ‘60s and early ‘70s, which in turn led to Kim’s hit singles and albums for Steed, which are widely regarded as the last, glorious gasp of the Brill Building sound.

In the spring of 1968, “Baby How’d We Ever Get This Way” charted a respectable #21 on Billboard’s pop chart, only to be bested by a series of two Ronettes remakes: “Baby I Love You” (#9, 1969) and “Be My Baby” (#17, 1970). “Be My Baby,” penned by Barry with then-wife and co-writer Ellie Greenwich, would go on to be a hit once more per decade in the hands of Dave Edmunds in the ‘70s and the Ramones in the ‘80s. And Ron Dante, the voice of “Sugar Sugar,” appeared on Kim’s hit “Rainbow Ride,” remembered for its anti-drug message.

After Steed rode off into the sunset, Kim signed with Capitol Records and released one more hit, “Rock Me Gently” (1974), but by then the landscape of pop music had changed. And the magic he had captured with Jeff Barry at Steed was not to be surpassed. In the ‘80s, he re-emerged as Baron Longfellow with two enigmatic albums. But when we think of Andy Kim, we prefer to look back to the classic era of the 45 RPM record, the final but still vital days of the Brill Building, and of course a double dosage of sugar.

The Partridge Family - Sound Magazine

Tue, 23 May 2006 10:21:52 -0700

The Partridge Family
Sound Magazine
(Bell, 1971)

Since you’ve tried everything else, why not a fierce, impeccable pop concept album about jism pressure?

Released just before The Partridge Family’s second season left the egg, Sound Magazine, like predecessors The Partridge Family Album and Up To Date was produced by Wes Farrell, written by songwriters then resident in popdom’s upper ether (Rupert Holmes, Bobby Hart, Tony Romeo) performed by L. A. session wizards like Hal Blaine (drums) and Michael Melvoin (keys), backup sung by the Love Generation and, not quite incidentally, vocalized by TV mom Shirley Jones and her brilliantly lovelorn son, David Cassidy. Here, then, is product--that base, yet tasty, ore upon which the record industry built its fortunes. Presold to a gigantic preteen audience, there is no conventional rock critic excuse at all for this album’s emotional sweep and delicacy. So much the worse for convention and rock criticism.

Cassidy’s excuse is ambition. On previous outings, Farrell sped up David’s voice to make the star (then in his late teens) sound adolescent. The effect was that of a constipated chipmunk fleeing a series of catgut holocausts. The son of Broadway dynamo Jack Cassidy and Hollywood musical-comedy star Shirley Jones, David fit poorly the then-emerging model of instant pop star, since nothing was above his station, and had every expectation of a long career once the TV show closed. A song-cycle about star-isolation and busted love affairs was a rare perfect fit of commerce and art.

Finally, there’s the scarcely believable, yet unmistakable intent that post-Beatles preteens might respond to a sophisticated, cleverly-wrought whole. The beautiful boy’s sore heart, expressed with magnificent brio in “Rainmaker,” “One Night Stand” and “I Woke Up In Love This Morning” provided kids with tantalizing glimpses of adult miseries they couldn’t wait to have for their very own. (Ron Garmon, from the book Lost in the Grooves: Scram's Capricious Guide to the Music You Missed)

Black Bubblegum

Tue, 09 May 2006 19:08:49 -0700

by James Porter

The Jackson Five were pioneers in ways no one really thinks about. When the Motown label released "I Want You Back" in the waning months of the sixties, the group was probably regarded as nothing more than five cute kids whom Diana Ross supposedly discovered, just another one of those novelty child acts that pop up every few years. As it turned out, they wound up with a #1 hit, bringing "The Motown Sound" up-to-date for the seventies. They spawned a host of imitators �suddenly every semi-talented pre-teen got a recording contract.

They also created an animal that had never previously existed: the black teen idol.

Since rock and roll's fifties beginnings, there were heartthrobs on both sides of the color line. However, the fanmags weren't about to push Sam Cooke and Jackie Wilson over Caucasian wet dreams like Fabian. This was still the case by the time the Jackson Five turned up in 1969 The cast of The Mod Squad regularly appeared in the pages of 16 magazine, but it was the handsome white male lead who got the most play (the equally hunky black male and the white female leads were relegated to the back burner). Through careful planning and strategizing, Motown prez Berry Gordy sent the five Jackson brothers from Gary, Indiana boldly walking where no black performer had gone before. There had never been an African-American act marketed towards the predominantly white teenybopper market. Berry Gordy and the Jacksons saw an opening and rolled right through.

Being a black teen group was hardly anything unique. The Jackson Five had many predecessors, none of whom were marketed aggressively as sex symbols. When Frankie Lymon hit in the fifties with the Teenagers, several groups led by 13-year-olds invaded the local doo-wop scenes overnight (including Lewis Lymon and the Teenchords, featuring Frankie's little brother). There were other singers who were essentially R&B footnotes: Little Gary Ferguson, Henry Ford and the Gifts, Darrow Fletcher. Probably the most significant J-5 antecedents were the Five Stairsteps, from nearby Chicago, IL, who kicked off a series of soul hits in 1966 (only one of them crossed over to the pop charts: 1970's "Ooh Child"). However, the Stairsteps sang post-doo-wop love ballads that could have been sung by any adult group. The J-5 went straight for the bubblegum jugular.

The story of the well-traveled Jacksons has been covered in far greater detail, many times over. Cutting to the chase, their early (1968) singles on the Steeltown label�"You Don't Have To Be Over 21 To Fall In Love," "Big Boy" (a big hit on Chicago soul playlists), "Let Me Carry Your Books" (credited to the Ripples and Waves)�were very crude versions of the sort of thing they would later record for Motown. "You've Changed," the flip of "Big Boy," was re-recorded for Diana Ross Presents the Jackson Five. The Steeltown version was an obvious rip from a verse that originated with the Temptations' "Fading Away"�"you've changed and it's showing." The theft isn't as obvious on the Motown remake.

The J-5's records were a polite version of the Sly-influenced psychedelic soul that pervaded the Temptations' records during this period. Although the Jacksons later claimed that the Motown hit factory chained them to a formula, a chronological listen of their hits for that label shows that, in the years between '69 and '75, they made fairly quick progress. The earliest hits ("I Want You Back," "ABC," "The Love You Save," "Mama's Pearl") established a blueprint for the J-5 sound that others copied: the walking basslines, one-note guitar licks, sing-songy choruses. By '72, knowing full well they couldn't milk the same thing forever, Motown actually had them experiment with jazzy harmonies ("Looking Through the Windows," "Skywriter") before getting them in early on disco's ground floor ("Dancing Machine," "Forever Came Today.")

Around the end of 1970, when it became obvious that the J-5 were a force to be reckoned with, the various tributes, parodies, and knockoffs started pouring in. The Osmond Brothers, five white kids from Utah roughly the Jacksons' age, trucked on down to Muscle Shoals, AL, altered their name to the Osmonds, and had a hit the first time out with "One Bad Apple." Previously, the Osmond family were regulars on Andy Williams' variety show, pausing to release the occasional record, but "Apple" broke them wide open. (This was followed by "Double Lovin'" and "Yo-Yo", which were also in line with the J-5 sound.) Like the Jacksons, they too would go on to flirt with other genres (including a short-lived heavy metal phase), but not before temporarily invading the turf of the boys from Gary. ("One Bad Apple," written by renowned R&B songwriter George Jackson, was Top 10 on the black singles charts.)

After the Osmonds broke through, the "black bubblegum" sound was all over black radio in 1971 and the first half of '72. One of the first groups out of the chute was the Ponderosa Twins Plus One, who were literally two sets of twins (Alvin and Alfred Pellham, Keith and Kirk Gardner) plus a fifth member, Ricky Spicer. According to the liner notes of their lone album (2+2+1= Ponderosa Twins Plus One) on the Horoscope label (distributed by All Platinum), they had been together a whopping nine months by the time the LP was released. The album was built around a remake of Sam Cooke's "You Send Me." The Ponderosas' version was #12 on Billboard's soul charts in the fall of '71. If the Jacksons had stayed behind in Gary, they would have sounded like this. The kids have the J-5 mannerisms down cold, albeit on a much lower budget. One uncredited kid sounds like a very squeaky Michael, while the other lead vocalist takes Jermaine's role. Motown did a really good job of covering up the J-5's bum notes. If you listen closely, you can hear a drunken-sounding bass voice at the bottom of "Oh How Happy," which appeared on their generically-titled Third Album, but the off-key clams of the Ponderosas are on display for all to hear. "Mama's Little Baby" takes off from the old standard 'Shortnin' Bread" with some Sly Stone "boom-boom-booms� thrown in for good measure. "Turn Around, You Fool" is copped directly from the J-5's "Never Can Say Goodbye." More than one song deals with true love in the face of stern parental disapproval. And for all that, the Ponderosa's album is one of the finest lost classics of the seventies. The J-5 rip-offs are obvious and abundant, but it's good trash, like hearing some suburban garage band in 1966 ape the Rolling Stones. When I hear the mesmeric "Bound"�which is as direct and emotionally blunt as its title�all critical perspective is gone. A year later, they limped to #40 on the soul charts with a remake of "Why Do Fools Fall In Love," the old Frankie Lymon doo-wopper. The production was cleaner this time, and they dropped the "Plus One" from their name (did they lose singer Ricky Spicer?). Not long after, they dropped out of sight altogether.

All Platinum soon struck gold again with Spoonbread, another adolescent vocal group, who charted in the R&B Top 40 with their hilarious version of "How Can You Mend A Broken Heart?" circa '72, on the Stang subsidiary. The lead singer was no Isaac Hayes, but he began the song with an opening rap worthy of Black Moses himself: "You know, I'd like to talk to the young folks for a minute. All the grownups can just turn their radios OFF, because I don't believe you understand what I'm talkin' about. You see, grownups don't believe that kids can fall in love�I mean REALLY, REALLY fall in love... grownups don't know what to tell me, so maybe all my friends out there can answer the question I've been axin'..." The lead singer then proceeds to render the Bee Gees� hit in a voice squeaky enough to have you believe this is the Ponderosas under a new name.

During the early 70's "black bubblegum" explosion, a surefire way to gain sympathy ("...oh, aren't they CUTE!") was to remake an older song. Both the Ponderosa Twins and Jimmy Briscoe and the Little Beavers took a crack at "Why Do Fools Fall In Love?" Brotherly Love, like the Ponderosas before them, reworked "Shortnin' Bread" as "Mama's Little Baby Loves Lovin'" (#20 in Billboard's soul chart, circa '72). This was released on the Music Merchant label, owned by the trio of Holland-Dozier-Holland, former writer-producers at Motown, and probably an attempt to show up their former bosses, who were riding high with the real thing. In '71, the oddly named Chee-Chee and Peppy (Dorothy Moore and Keith Bolling, from Philadelphia) released an album on Buddah that not only contained their one hit ("I Know I'm In Love," #12 on the soul chart), but a smattering of oldies from the first rock era. (The duo, by now all grown up and with their Afros traded in for more conservative coifs, even made a reunion album in the eighties!) Lucky Peterson is now a known figure in the blues world, but in 1971 veteran blues singer/songwriter/bassist Willie Dixon produced Lucky's first single, "1-2-3-4." Lucky was then all of seven years old and a monster organist; the song itself was nothing more than James Brown's "Please Please Please" with new lyrics (which consist of Lucky counting to twelve). The flip was a soul groover called "Good Old Candy," with Lucky's garbled voice praising his favorite junk foods and adding a JB scream where necessary. Originally released on Dixon's small Yambo label out of Chicago, this was soon leased to the bigger Today label, where it only made #40 on Billboard's soul chart, but it managed to land Lucky on The Ed Sullivan Show, Sesame Street and other TV programs as a sort-of novelty act ("SEE THE SEVEN-YEAR-OLD KID PLAY BLUES ORGAN!").

Probably the strangest hit to come from this movement was "Love Jones," by Chicago one-hit-wonders the Brighter Side of Darkness (#3 soul/#16 pop, winter �72-73). The song was primarily a rambling monologue by 12-year-old Darryl Lamont, who claims that his love for his girl is "almost like that of a JUNKIE!" ("Jones" is period slang for a heroin addiction.) Be sure to catch the part where Lamont says his "jones" made him flunk the big exam in Mr. Russell's class: "I was sittin' up starin' at you... and daydreamin'...." Good thing Mr. Russell didn't call him up to the chalkboard�from the sound of his voice, he probably had a boner in his double-knit slacks, and then they would have SEEN his love jones, too! Later in 1973, comedians Cheech and Chong had a Top 20 pop hit with "Basketball Jones," a wicked parody that featured Cheech Marin, a Chicano from East L.A., in the guise of Tyrone Shoelaces, a black kid describing his love for basketball while George Harrison (guitar), Billy Preston (keyboards), and a host of other rock luminaries wailed on in support.

Not all the family (or pre-teen) groups from this era sang bubblegum, although its generally assumed that they did. The Sylvers, another family unit, were the Jackson Five's biggest rivals in black teen mags like Right On (put out by Laufer Communications, who also gave us Tiger Beat), but their earliest material (on the Pride label, an MGM subsidiary, circa 1972-74) was mostly written by brother Leon, and is far too aware and intelligent for "bubblegum." (But if it's great soul music you want...) Interestingly, they didn't have much crossover success until they switched labels in 1975 (from Pride to Capitol) and started dumbing down their lyrics for the disco era, resulting in "Boogie Fever," "Hot Line," "High School Dance," and others. However, eleven-year old Foster Sylvers managed to get a hit with "Misdemeanor" in 1973 (#7 soul/ #22 pop). Leon Sylvers obviously tailored this catchy number to the teenybop set, but as with the elder Sylvers� material from the same period, was far more substantial than anyone had a right to expect. The two oldest Sylvers sisters sang backup and got in some good lines, as well, particularly when they compare young Foster's heartbreak to "(running) a red light and (finding) yourself run over." True to bubblegum tradition, he followed this up with an oldies remake (Dee Clark's "Hey Little Girl."). He would join his older brothers and sisters in the Sylvers two years later, pausing to make the occasional solo record.

Other young groups got caught in the post-J-5 youthquake. Jimmy Briscoe and the Little Beavers, started off their career with a single of "Why Do Fools Fall In Love?" on Atlantic in 1971. But as their career progressed, with a series of records on the Pi Kappa label, this young Baltimore quintet aspired for the same style of make-out music pioneered by the Stylistics, Delfonics, Blue Magic, and other genre groups. Junior and his Soulettes were a self-contained brother-sister band from Oklahoma (aged from six to ten) who recorded the classic self-pressed Psychodelic Sounds album (1971) in their uncle's garage, but the music is closer to sixties garage-rock than anything the Jacksons spawned. Even Sister Sledge, when they first came on the scene in 1975, were tagged a "female Jackson Five." Sweet Sensation, from England, were closer to the mark�a self-contained band with an adolescent vocalist, whose one hit, "Sad Sweet Dreamer" (1975), featured a banjo, a rare instrument on a soul record. Sophisticated black producers like Gamble and Huff probably would have sent the banjoist packing for Nashville, but it's heard to great, non-intrusive effect here, and may have helped it to cross over to the pop charts, which it did. Others who didn't quite crack the bank include Dexter Redding, the son of the late Otis Redding, who recorded a great single for Capricorn in 1973, "Love Is Bigger Than Baseball," which was backed with "God Bless," a touching tale (written by R&B eccentric Jerry Williams, Jr., a/k/a Swamp Dogg) about a child who not only asks the Lord to bless mom and dad, but Huckleberry Hound, the Easter Bunny, Elmer Fudd, and a host of other celebrities. Marc Copage, who played Corey on the NBC series Julia (1968-71), stepped up to the mike for a few forgettable 45's. In Chicago, there was Pat and Pam, a teen duo who wanted to record more adult material, but their dad (Lucky Cordell, a DJ at WVON, an influential black station in those days) wanted them to ride the J-5 gravy train. Two singles were issued�the better record was "I Love You, Yes I Do," on the Our Own label, which is required listening for any girl-group fan, and remarkably sophisticated for its type (I guess they reached some kind of compromise with Dad).

A disturbing piece of trivia: Wayne Williams, who was imprisoned in 1981 for allegedly killing numerous children in Atlanta, GA, was said to have been auditioning talented kids for a group called Gemini, which never got off the ground.

Quite a few adult records during this time used the Jackson Five blueprint. The Emotions were barely out of their teens themselves when they recorded "From Toys to Boys" (Volt, 1972). Ditto for the Newcomers' "Pin the Tail on the Donkey" (Stax, 1971) and the Sequins' "You Flunked Out" (flip side of "It Must Be Love", Crajon, 1973). Former Motown employees Holland-Dozier-Holland produced the Honey Cone's "Want Ads" (Hot Wax, 1971) and Freda Payne's "Cherish What Is Dear to You" (Invictus, 1972), both of which nailed that Jackson sound dead to rights. Even the Five Stairsteps got in on the act with "I Love You-Stop" (1971).

Parodies showed up in a few places: besides Cheech and Chong's "Basketball Jones," another comedy group called the Credibility Gap recorded "You Can't Judge a Hippie by His Hair" (1973), which took the piss out of the whole Jacksons/ Osmonds sound in general. On the 1971 episode of The Brady Bunch where Peter's voice changes on the eve of a Bradys' recording session, one scene has Peter talking to a record producer in a control booth while five black kids in the background silently mill around in the studio. Who are they? The Five Monroes, a subtle dig at the Jackson Five. A TV commercial from about 1972 for Jiffy Pop popcorn featured a jingle that could only have been made possible by the J-5, while an interracial crew of middle-schoolers were shown dancing to it (and eating the popcorn) at a house party.

Over in Japan, where the Jacksons caused a furor when they toured in 1973, there was a group called the Finger 5. They apparently donned the same fringe-and-bell-bottom look that the Jacksons had in their heyday, and even went so far as to perm their hair in homage to their heroes! And when they weren't doing wah-wah soul songs like the J-5, they covered pop songs like "Heartbeat, It's a Lovebeat" (originally by Canada's own DeFranco Family) and the Monkees� �I�m Not Your Steppin' Stone." In Japanese. With a lead singer that sounded more like Michael Jackson than the kid from America's own Ponderosa Twins Plus One.

The initial rush that the Jacksons started came to a halt sometime around 1975. The Jacksons themselves continued to refine their sound through the years, which is why you know Michael Jackson today while Chee Chee and Peppy have been lost in time. On occasion, the sound would revive itself: New Edition kicked off their lengthy career with "Candy Girl" in 1983, while around the same time, a teen reggae band called Musical Youth hit the airwaves with "Pass The Dutchie," which might as well have been early J-5 with a Jamaican accent. During the late eighties and early nineties, there was another "black bubblegum" wave, with the Boys, Perfect Gentlemen, Another Bad Creation, and Kris Kross. (This time out, the role of the Osmonds was played by New Kids On The Block, a white group from Boston who had mild success on the black charts, due to their hip-hop image and pretensions. They were notable in that they were one of the few white teen acts Svengalied by a black producer, Maurice Starr.) And in an odd case of deja vu, Tito Jackson formed a group around his sons (3T) that never really made it, while one of the Osmonds also formed a group with his offspring, cashing in on that New Kids "teen group" fame. Most of these groups jockeyed for their share of the pie, with varying results. With the current success of Britney Spears and far too many boy bands to even think of, we're probably due for an African-American take on the same trend. Some producer is probably already working on a "Love Jones" or a Foster Sylvers soundalike for the new millennium.

***
Five Great Black Bubblegum Classics That WEREN'T Influenced By The Jackson Five
by James Porter

"INSTANT REACTION," Clarence Carter, 1969.
Carter's recordings from the sixties and early seventies (including smashes like "Slip Away" and "Patches") are hallmarks of blues-based southern soul. More recently (eighties and nineties) he's become infamous for blues novelty records like "Strokin'" and "Grandpa Can't Fly His Kite"("...because Grandma won't give him no tail"). However, "Instant Reaction," from his 1969 LP Testifyin' (Atlantic) deserves mention in a book about bubblegum. Listen to it�either this was a demo for the Ohio Express that got routed to Carter by mistake, or else he was trying to snag the 13-year-olds on purpose. Written by Wayne Carson Thompson, whose songs, including "The Letter" and "Soul Deep," were regularly recorded by the Box Tops.

"FLOY JOY," The Supremes, 1972.
Skeptics like to believe that "Floy Joy" is proof that the Supremes were a low priority at Motown after Diana Ross left. Did composer Smokey Robinson write this with five minutes to kill till the session began? It may be a substandard record for a trio of fading sixties icons, but you'll be humming along with it before its over.

"COOL AID," Paul Humphrey & the Cool Aid Chemists, 1971.
"MR. PENGUIN," Lunar Funk, 1972.
Bubblegum instrumentals... a neglected art. The organ on "Cool Aid" is closer to a merry-go-round than the Baptist church.

"RAINY DAY BELLS," The Globetrotters, 1970.
NBC actually had a Harlem Globetrotters' cartoon series (1970-73), where not only were they road-managed by a elderly white lady known as "Granny," but they managed to moonlight as an R&B vocal group. There was an album and several singles released on the Kirshner label, including "ESP," where, over the piano solo, the lead singer asks his lover to guess what instrument is playing, and then wonders if she knows what he wants. A smoochy kiss noise follows. The best was probably "Rainy Day Bells," a stone-cold doo-wopper that features J.R. Bailey from the Cadillacs on lead vocals. This single is reportedly a hot item among East Coast harmony-group cultists, but it's got a definite Ron Dante pop appeal.

Roberto Jord�n and the Rise of Mexigum, or �Chiclet Rock�

Tue, 09 May 2006 18:26:17 -0700

by Tom Walls

Latin America has always assimilated Anglo-American popular music in some way; it has imitated it, repackaged it and has given it an indelible Latin stamp. Roberto Jord�n is a great example of an artist that took the bubblegum formula and enjoyed success with it throughout the Spanish-speaking world. Jord�n was a heartthrob figure backed up by a team of producers, songwriters and arrangers, serving up a long string of pre-packaged pop hits aimed at a vast, hungry teen market in the late sixties and early seventies. His material was comprised mainly of cover versions of English-language pop-rock hits, including several classic bubblegum nuggets made famous by the U.S. projects of Messrs. Kasenetz, Katz and Levine. Jord�n made bubblegum music accessible to teens throughout Central and South America and even to Spanish-language music consumers in the U.S. His career has been a long one. He recorded an album of boleros a few years ago, in 1998 played to a packed Jackie Gleason Theater here in Miami, and still receives tremendous airplay on Spanish oldies stations.

I discovered Roberto Jord�n through Clasica 92 FM, one such Spanish �oldies� station in South Florida. Since I preferred oldies stations to the drivel spewing from the rest of the dial, and given my interest in improving my Spanish, it followed that I�d tune in to the Spanish oldies station when I moved here in 1999. And tuning in has enlightened me to a lot of music I never would have heard otherwise.

I�ve been a fan of sixties garage since my mother gave me her Shadows of Knight, Blues Magoos and Electric Prunes records. In more recent years, I�ve taken it upon myself to seek out garage records from other countries, particularly from the Spanish-speaking world.

Rock�n�roll was not only introduced to Mexico over the radio, but also visually, through great rock�n�roll movies like The Girl Can�t Help It. The movies influenced the youth of Mexico in clothing, hairstyles and attitudes. Groups such as Los Teenagers adopted a wild rock�n�roll stance while still playing traditional music like pachanga and boleros. Bill Haley and the Comets toured Mexico in 1960 and helped jumpstart the rocandrolero (rock �n� roller) scene. Bigger acts started playing rock �n� roll in Spanish, like Enrique Guzman, Cesar Costa, Los Teen Tops, Los Yakis and Hermanos Carrion. By the mid-sixties, Mexico produced tons of Stonesy R & B garage bands: Los Locos del Ritmo, Los Johnny Jets, and Los Apson, not to mention Los Psicodelicos Xochimilcas (The Psychedelic Xochimilcas). There was even a sharp-dressed group called Los American�s (yes, with the apostrophe) that prided themselves on their Kinks covers.

This material has been pretty much ignored by critics and has escaped the notice of chroniclers of Latin popular music. Early Latin rock (approximately 1957-1968) is deemed as unoriginal, not �indigenous� enough or just not serious music. There is little documentation about Latin rock from this period, but of lot of people still remember the personalities and the music. My friend Tom Carr, who grew up in Honduras, remembers hearing a version of �Surfin� Bird� in Spanish on the radio. But I doubt you�ll find out much about that in the Latin American Music Review or Ethnomusicology. In spite of being ignored by the critics and music scholars, these artists had a tremendous impact on popular tastes of the time and helped popularize rock�n�roll throughout the Spanish-speaking world. These eager Mexican acts made the music their own and exported it. Teens in Argentina, Peru, Colombia and Venezuela regularly listened to rock on the radio en espa�ol, and many formed rock bands of their own.

By the late �60s, countless radio stations in Latin America had adopted American-style formats and were playing rock and pop in English as well as Spanish; it went from being a teen fad to a regular part of the entertainment industry. Even in authoritarian Cuba, Latin rock artists enjoyed immense popularity on nightly shows like Nocturno. Although the content and playlists were closely watched by the Cuban regime (the Beatles were prohibited, for example), Nocturno provided a vibrant soundtrack to the adolescents and teens of Cuba. Many emigrated to the United States and brought their memories with them, hence the heavy rotation of artists like Roberto Jord�n on stations like Clasica 92 FM in Miami.

The station�s Honduran-born programming director German Estrada compares what he airs today with what was on the air in his hometown of San Pedro Sula in the late sixties and early seventies. Estrada relies in part upon his listeners for programming suggestions as well as material for airplay instead of expensive playlists supplied by marketing corporations. In an interview with the Miami New Times, Estrada proclaims proudly �I don�t need to do any research. I lived those years. It's hard to get these kinds of recordings, but the station has faithful listeners who bring me records from their own collections." A respectable programming philosophy for an oldies station whose target demographic is from 35 to 64 years old; the playlists include a wide range of songs, singers and styles from the sixties to the early eighties.

In my experience, most Anglo oldies stations suffice to play �Calendar Girl,� �Chapel of Love� and �Teenager in Love� over and over each day with only a �Louie Louie� or a �Double Shot of My Baby�s Love� thrown in every two weeks to appease people like me. Now, don�t get me wrong, Clasica 92 plays a hefty share of gushy ballads, kitschy crooners, and ABBA�s Spanish hits, but I often hear a great rock or bubblegum tune I had never been exposed to before, including those of the most prolific Mexican bubblegum artist, Roberto Jord�n.

Roberto Jord�n was born in Culiac�n, Sinaloa, Mexico. In the late fifties and early sixties, Jord�n sang for fun among gatherings of his friends. But his first job behind a microphone started before his singing career: at age 14 he got a job as a DJ on a Mexican radio station. His penchant for entertaining people grew, and he was encouraged by friends and people in the entertainment industry to go further.

Music teacher Enrique Okamura as well as producer and music teacher Eduardo Magallanes provided Jord�n with Spanish arrangements of English pop hits. Okamura was pretty much the brains of the operation, having his name credited as a songwriter on the majority of Jord�n�s hits. Okamura also produced songs for Juan Gabriel, a former backup singer for Jord�n who went on to greater success as an actor, romantic crooner and singer of boleros rancheros. Magallanes recently wrote a biography of Juan Gabriel called Querido Alberto. Unfortunately, there isn�t much information about Okamura to be found out there, but his legacy lives on as the mastermind behind the bubblegum career of Roberto Jord�n.

Jord�n was to become part of the �Nueva Ola� (new wave) of youth-oriented music that swept Mexico around 1968. The year 1968 is significant in Mexico (as in other countries), because it is perceived as a turning point in not only music, but in social values and attitudes. As in North America and Europe, the concerns of �youth� became an issue in itself. While some artists tried to pose as revolutionary agitators or starry-eyed protest leaders, others still spoke to the kids about the universal topic of love.

A lot of folks fondly remember �Amor de Estudiante� (Student Love) a song Jord�n made famous after the songwriter Enrique Rosa approached him with it. Jord�n happened to be looking for more material to record, given his increasing success. This jangly, sticky-sweet number deals with typical teen subjects, puberty and summertime loves that are over with after the summer ends.

Es oto�o los amantes ya se fueron
It�s fall and the lovers have left
las hojas de los arboles cubren el campo
the leaves of the trees cover the ground
sus voces amorosas ya no se escuchan
their lovely voices can�t be heard anymore
el verano ya se fue
the summer is already gone

�This song was like a hymn� says Omar Moenello of Miami. �Algo quimico.� (something chemical).

Numerous Spanish covers of English songs can be heard on Clasica 92, but Jord�n�s repertoire stands out because of the great number of covers taken directly from the halls of U.S. bubblegum. I asked Jesus Olivera, a 39 year old Cuban-American, if he knew that Jord�n was singing cover versions of songs that were already hits in the U.S. and elsewhere. �I used to listen to Roberto Jord�n in Cuba because he had some popular songs in Nocturno, but not because I knew anything about �bubblegum rock�� Olivera says. �In fact, I didn't know he was copying existing rock songs, all the time I thought they were his. Only when I got to the U.S. in '74 did I realize other people had made those songs.�

These covers include but are not limited to:

�El Juego de Sim�n� (�Simple Simon Says,� 1910 Fruitgum Co.)
�1, 2, 3 Detente!� (�1,2,3 Red Light,� 1910 Fruitgum Co.)
�9-10 me quieres otra vez� (�9-10, Let�s Do It Again,� 1910 Fruitgum Co.)
�Voy a meterme en tu coraz�n� (�May I Take A Giant Step [Into Your Heart],� 1910 Fruitgum Co.)
�Mercy� (�Mercy,� Ohio Express)
�Castillos de Algodon� (�1910 Cotton Candy Castle,�1910 Fruitgum Co.)

Jord�n enjoyed a tremendous hit with �El Juego de Sim�n.� Cuban-American Miami resident Nancy Elias remembers attending an outdoor concert in Havana�s Parque Central when she was a little girl, around 1972. A live band was playing (she doesn�t remember the name) and she stood with her family watching them. She began to cry during their performance. She remembers the band stopping and bringing her up to the microphone, asking her to say what was the matter. She exclaimed �Quiero que me canten �El Juego de Sim�n!� (I want you to play me �Simple Simon Says�!) The band knew the song, and played it, to everyone�s delight. As they started to perform their next number, little Nancy started to cry again. �I wanted them to play it over and over again� she recalls. They didn�t play it again, but she still loves to hear the song over and over.

Voy a ense�arles algo que les gustar�
I�m gonna teach you something that you�ll really like
Es un juego facil de jugar
It�s a game that�s easy to play
Si quieren aprender el juego de Sim�n
If you want to learn the game of Simon
No necesita mas que coraz�n
You need nothing more than your heart
Se deben de formar
You have to gather around
Su pareja escoger
And choose your partner
Y sus ojos cerrar
And you close your eyes
No se deben de ver
And don�t you peek
Comienzen a girar luego deben parar
Start to spin around and then you stop
Y los ojos ya podran abrir
And then you can open your eyes
Tal vez no sea la misma pero tu veras
It might not be the same one, but you will see
A la muchacha que toca a ti
The girl that ends up with you
Le vas a preguntar
And then you�ll ask her
Quien se llama Sim�n
Who�s named Simon
Si te besa sabras
If she kisses you you�ll know
Quien te de el coraz�n
That she�ll give you her heart

(organ solo)

El juego de Sim�n lo han aprendido y�
Now you�ve all learned the game of Simon
Si lo juegan hallar�n amor
And if you play it you will find a love
Si acaso tienes novia llevala a jugar
In case you have a girl take her to play
Cuando le beses dale el coraz�n
When you kiss her you give her your heart

Other great covers sung by Jord�n include:
�Pronto seras mujer� (�Girl, You�ll Be A Woman Soon,� Neil Diamond)
�Hazme una se�al� (�Gimme Little Sign,� Brenton Wood)
�Lib�rame� (�You Keep me Hanging On,� Vanilla Fudge arrangement)
�La chica de los grandes ojos caf� (�Brown-Eyed Girl,� Van Morrison)
�Soy un creyente� (�I�m a Believer,� Neil Diamond/ Monkees)
�Como te quiero� (�Birds of a Feather,� Joe South/ Raiders)
�Juntos esta noche� (�Let�s Spend The Night Together,� Rolling Stones)
�Muchacha bonita� (�Cry Like a Baby,� Box Tops)
�Juntos felices� (�Happy Together,� Turtles)
�Mi confesion� (�Midnight Confessions,� Grass Roots)

Jord�n was backed up by Los Zignos, a group of Mexican studio musicians that shared similar musical interests. He also cut a few songs with the psychedelic group Los Dug Dug�s (their apostrophe, not mine!). The Dug Dug�s kicked off their career in 1966 with the single �Chicotito Si, Chicotito No� which was used as the theme for a children�s� TV show in Mexico City, and the Dug Dug�s appeared as the house band in a number of teen movies such as 1967�s El Mundo Loco de los Jovenes (The Crazy World of the Teenagers).

A pleasing aspect of Jord�n�s songs is the ubiquitous presence of that unmistakable combo organ. A trained ear can identify the happy, fluty Farfisas and the deeper sounds of the classic Vox organ. Jord�n�s songs tend to be more organ-heavy than the originals. In his cover of �Na Na, Hey Hey, Kiss Him Goodbye� (�Na Na, Hey Hey, Adios�), he is accompanied by a particularly sick-sounding Vox Continental, giving it a much more far-out, ethereal sound than the overplayed original. And in �Como Te Quiero,� Jord�n turns Joe South�s �Birds of a Feather� into a pure bubblegum classic, with a hearty dose of la-la-la-la-las with the organ playing the lead melody. I melt every time I hear the song. In his rendition of �If I Were A Carpenter� (�Si Fuera un Mendigo�) there�s a cool guitar delay effect that makes it sound more like a Velvet Underground tune than the wimpy original.

Because of Roberto Jord�n�s everlasting gifts to the once-and-forever teens of the Spanish-speaking world, and to the world of bubblegum, he should not go unnoticed. Reissues of his material can be purchased from Amazon.com, or record stores specializing in Latin music should be able to order it.

Spanish is not a prerequisite to enjoy the bubblegum of Roberto Jord�n. �No necesita mas que coraz�n!

Selected Discography

Roberto Jord�n:
Hazme Una Se�al, 1968, RCA Victor
1,2,3 Detente!, 1968, RCA Victor
Castillos de Algodon, 1970, RCA Victor
Roberto Jord�n (best-of compilation), 1999, Tepito Records, Tepito, SA, Mexico

Various:
Changa Charanga � Los Teenagers � date unknown, Zedia Records
La Gran Epoca del Rock En Espa�ol � V/A, 1973, Harmony/CBS
Rare Mexican Cuts From The Sixties � V/A, 1992, EVA

Sources:
Fraser Delgado, Celeste. �Gruvy, Baby: Miami's �Buenos Dias, America� crew,� Miami New Times, December 23, 1999

Casino Records 1208 SW 8th St., Miami, Fla. 33135 (located on the famous Calle Ocho).

Group Sounds and Japanese Pop

Tue, 09 May 2006 18:15:35 -0700

Group Sounds and Japanese Pop
by Glenn Sadin

The Japanese music scene has traditionally been dominated by manufactured pop stars for nearly as long as there has been rock�n�roll in Japan. Every year a new crop of idoru (teen idols) makes its debut before the adoring teenage masses, usually introduced via one of many pop music TV programs, taking the space once occupied by last year�s models, who may have either quit show business or simply disappeared from the charts. The Japanese are seemingly very fickle when it comes to musical taste; if an idoru�s career can survive until they reach their late 20s, they are considered musical veterans.

Today�s hit-making machine can trace its roots back to the late �50s, when the big show biz powers realized that this new Western import, rock�n�roll, could become very lucrative if they were able to gain control and dictate the latest trends to the nation�s restless youth. After ten years or so of hard times following World War 2, Japanese youth looked to America for the new direction, which was rock�n�roll.

Smelling money, the big talent agencies and record companies began scouting the country�s coffee bars and youth clubs, looking for good-looking, well-behaved youngsters that could be groomed for pop stardom. It wasn�t necessary for the potential idoru to be particularly good singers; it was all about image. What really counted was wholesome good looks, a charming personality, and a certain �star quality� that would make them stand out and get the attention of the adoring masses. After signing with the production company, the teen would be refined and packaged according to whatever the latest style required.

Most idoru made their debut on one of the national pop music TV shows, the first of which was The Hit Parade, which debuted on Fuji Television in 1959 and was an instant success with Japanese teens. Hosted by one-time Elvis-style Japanese rocker Mickey Curtis�who now appeared in a neat suit flashing a toothy grin�The Hit Parade set the stage for the music shows to come. Each week millions of young people tuned in to watch Japanese singers perform the latest American hit songs in Japanese. It was the perfect vehicle for launching new idoru into overnight stardom.

One of the most popular acts to appear on Japanese television during this period was a pair of adorably cute twin sisters, Emi and Yumi Ito, collectively known as the Peanuts. The Peanuts had a charming stage personality and were actually quite good singers. Their records tended to be delightful Japanese-language versions of Western pop songs, Latin-tinged romantic ballads, and Japanese folk songs done with a dance beat. The Peanuts� popularity lasted well into the mid-�70s, and one can still hear their hits being sung by pairs of women in karaoke bars all over Japan. (In America, the Peanuts are best known as the miniature twin fairy princesses in the old Godzilla movies, singing their mournful laments to Mothra!)

Once Beatlemania hit Japan in the mid �60s, the trend switched away from individual idoru to groups of young men with mop haircuts and electric guitars. Almost immediately following the Beatles� 1966 Far Eastern tour, which included several shows in Tokyo�s Budo Kan Hall that were broadcast around the country on NHK-TV, performers had to play guitar and really sing if they were to be �with it.� This new beat boom was dubbed �the Group Sounds,� or GS for short.

From 1966-67 dozens of new bands, with "mod" names like the Spiders, the Tempters, the Carnabeats, the Jaguars, the Tigers, etc., made their record debuts. The top GS bands had enormous popularity in Japan, with Beatlemania-like hysteria scenes following them wherever they went and concerts filled with screaming fans. The Tigers, the Jaguars and the Spiders even made fun-filled feature films a la Help! and Having a Wild Weekend. The Spiders attempted to crack the international market by touring and releasing records in the US and Europe, without success. They even appeared on the legendary British TV show, Ready Steady Go! Nevertheless, the trips abroad helped secure their status in Japan, where going abroad is equated with �making it.� The Tigers visited the United States for a much-needed vacation and to film a commercial for Japanese TV, and were even advertised in Japan as having �appeared� on The Ed Sullivan Show. (Of course, the fact that their appearance was in the audience and not on-stage wasn't mentioned!)

Much like the old Hollywood studio contract system, the GS bands were tightly controlled by their producers. Watanabe Productions, one of the most powerful talent agencies in Japan, held its artists (including the Tigers, who were the biggest name in GS at the time) under iron-clad, long-term contracts. There were rumors circulating at the time that, despite the fact that the Tigers were earning at least a million dollars a year in income, Watanabe Productions had the boys on a monthly salary of $300 per person, plus expenses. Carnabeats drummer Ai Takano spoke in a recent interview about how he had to visit the house of Jaguars vocalist Shin Okamoto in secret, because the Carnabeats' management considered other groups to be rivals, and forbade them from becoming friendly with each other. (The Spiders were one successful band who broke away from this system by forming their own management company, Spiduction, and signed up other bands, some of which�i.e. the Tempters�were very successful in their own right.)

The Tigers, who had started out worshipping the Rolling Stones (their 1967 live album, On Stage consists of mostly Stones covers), were soon conditioned into cute�n�cuddly pop idoru, and their recorded output quickly changed from big beat rockers to string-laden romantic ballads tailor-made for teenage schoolgirl fantasies. Lead vocalist, Kenji Sawada, who was admittedly the best looking pop star in Japan at the time, even affected the effeminate stage name Julie, which served him well after the Tigers disbanded in the early �70s, and he launched a new career as a glam artist.

By the mid-�70s, the GS boom was ancient history and most �serious� rock fans in Japan had entered their twenties and had graduated to the harder rock sounds of the day. But this didn�t stop the idol machines from churning out fresh fodder for the new generation of youthful record buyers. By this point, the big star makers had discovered that by using idoru as tools to pitch products aimed at the youth market, it was a doubly profitable situation. The managers signed exclusive agreements with the manufacturers of candy bars, acne cream, and other youth-oriented products to have their idoru become, in effect, the merchandising �face� of the product. Rather than lose credibility, the increased exposure through a massive saturation of magazine ads, store displays, and, especially, TV commercials, lead to mega record sales and concert attendance. Even today it is standard practice in Japan to align a new single release with a product marketing campaign, so that every time the consumer sees an ad for a brand of instant curry or facial cream, he is also exposed to a 30-second blast of the new single. Most singles even credit the commercial that the song was promoted on, to make it easier for the consumer to find the song that he or she liked.

Utilizing this new marketing strategy, the biggest success story of the �70s was a singing and dancing duo named Pink Lady, who had an impressive series of nine #1 singles between 1976 and 1979. The two schoolgirls, Mitsuyo Nemoto and Keiko Masuda, began their career after passing the audition to appear on the amateur talent TV show, Star Tanjo! (Birth of a Star!). By the time they appeared on TV six months later to promote their first single, �Peppa Keibu� (�Pepper Police�), their innocent girlie folk routine was replaced by catchy disco music with wacky lyrics sung by two young chicks dancing in sexy mini-dresses. Until Pink Lady came along, most Japanese female performers had been pretty stationary on stage, except for the occasional wistful hand gesture or two, so that when Mii and Kei (as Pink Lady became known to their fans) came on shaking their things and getting down, it caused a sensation! Despite their sexy moves on stage, their music was so completely free from any kind of sexual suggestiveness, and their performances so filled with youthful exuberance, that they were not considered a threat to morality by adults. Pink Lady were big hits with younger audiences too, who bought up kiddie books with instructions on how to do the latest Pink Lady dance steps. Before long, even the youngest children were boogying along with Pink Lady in front of their TVs. Their popularity was so complete that, at one point in 1977, they held the top three positions on the singles charts.

During their reign at the top, Pink Lady were contracted as �image talents� or pitchwomen for an incredible eleven consumer products, ranging from children�s magazines to ice cream to shampoo, all of which had significant sales increases directly related to the use of Pink Lady�s image. During their peak in 1978, they attempted to crack the American market, performing in Las Vegas and recording their first English-language single in America. While their opportunities abroad increased, their hit records in Japan began to decline, partially due to some ill-advised career decisions. They returned to America in 1980, where they starred in a TV series on NBC, Pink Lady and Jeff (with comic Jeff Altman), recorded an LP entirely in English for the American market, and had a single, �A Kiss in the Dark,� reach #37 on the Billboard chart. However, the show was canceled after several weeks and Pink Lady returned to Japan, where they struggled for another year or so before breaking up in 1981.

In the mid �80s, a new TV show attracted the attention of teenagers all over Japan. Yuyake Nyan Nyan (Meow at Dusk) came on at 5:00 PM, when young people had some free time after school, but before their nightly study time. The stars of the show were a group of 24 cute high school girls who were dubbed the Onyanko Club (Kitty Cat Club). What distinguished the girls in the Onyanko Club was the fact that they were utter amateurs, chosen for the show merely for their normalness. Unlike previous TV personalities and idoru, the girls were not groomed for TV stardom or given much training in show business charm. Sure, they danced, sang and made small talk with the show�s host, but they did it with out any pretense of showbiz glamour. They would chat about the things that mattered to young girls, usually in teenage slang. They represented normal high school girls living normal teenage lives. When some of the girls would have tests at school, they would even be absent from the show, which the other girls would sympathetically lament. Of course, many of the viewers at home would also be taking the same tests at their own schools, so a rapport was established with their audience. This audience identification was at the core of their success; girls could imagine themselves being plucked from obscurity and becoming stars overnight (replacement Onyanko Club members would be recruited after a girl graduated high school) and boys would fantasize about dating their favorites. Naturally, hit singles by the Onyanko Club followed, which, of course, were not written by the members of the group, nor were they particularly sung well. The Onyanko Club sowed the seeds of success for contemporary teenage Japanese female bubblegum acts like Speed, which have similar music-with-dancing formats.

So what is the state of J-Pop Bubblegum today? The CD charts and TV music programs are saturated with manufactured groups of attractive teenagers who have been carefully trained to dance in sync. Most have questionable vocal abilities, although this only is apparent when one sees them performing on live TV without their producer�s studio magic supporting them. No matter, the kids in Japan are eating this up. There is even a private idoru training school in Okinawa that, in addition to the usual history and math lessons, instructs the students in choreography, singing, acting and other show business skills. The school has turned out an impressive number of young pop stars, including Namie Amuro and Speed, two of the most successful hitmakers of the �90s. Much like with the current success in America of the Backstreet Boys, �N Sync and Britney Spears, it seems that manufactured pop music is thriving in Japan today.

The Lovin' Spoonful

Thu, 04 May 2006 20:47:22 -0700

by Gary Pig Gold

Excuse me, but I think America had already produced a more-than-competent “answer” to that great big British Invasion quite some time before the Byrds and “Mr. Tambourine Man” ever reared their jingle-jangled heads.

I speak of the undeniably brilliant, once and forever Happy Hit Machine known as the Lovin’ Spoonful.

With long tangled roots deep within folk, jug-band music and the blues, this quartet somehow squeezed from its diverse musical lineage the deceptively simple brew they called, quite perfectly, Good-Time Music. In fact the band’s first monumental hit, “Do You Believe In Magic,” was no less than a musical manifesto – a Top Forty Call-To-Arms even! -- which instantly launched a solid three-year run of immense yet ** always ** innovative international hits.

The story began in New York City on the momentous night of February 9, 1964. At 8PM, on the corner of 53rd and Broadway, Ed Sullivan was introducing those four guys from Liverpool to a rightfully astonished nation. A couple of miles downtown, three under-employed folk singers named Cass Elliot, Zalman Yanovsky and John B. Sebastian were among the 73 million most definitely tuned in. Then and there, all three decided to form their very own rock ‘n’ roll combos, and after various incarnations and permutations – not to mention a recreational side trip or two (all documented in song and dance, by the way, within the verses of the Mamas & Papas’ “Creeque Alley”) -- it was John and Zal who, when the haze had cleared, were wowin’ em every night from the stage of the Night Owl Café with co-conspirators Steve Boone and Joe Butler in tow. Taking their name from a Mississippi John Hurt tune, the Lovin’ Spoonful soon numbered among their most loyal fans Phil Spector (who lobbied, unsuccessfully as it transpired, to be their producer), local boy Bob Dylan (getting ready to plug himself in at that very time), and a would-be Andrew Loog Oldham name of Erik Jacobsen, who quickly signed the band to the brand new Kama Sutra label.

Of course, you can safely call the Spoonful “bubblegum” (as just one look at lead guitarist Zal Yanovsky, a human cartoon if ever there was one, will attest), but they were in fact one of those rare bands who dared to – and were capable of – supplying a goodly amount of Substance with their Pop. Certainly hits such as “Did You Ever Have To Make Up Your Mind?” and especially the landmark “Summer In The City” laid the keyboard-crafted game-plan for much Super K gumness to come, plus the band’s on-stage penchant for brightly-striped T-shirts and over-sized cowboy hats make even the 1989 Musical Marching Zoo‘s stagewear seem downright demure by comparison. In fact, so potent was the Spoonful’s aura of goofy, glorious mayhem that they were briefly being considered for a starring role in their very own weekly television series! Lucky for Davy Jones though, the Spoonful seemed content instead to make a cameo appearance in – not to mention write the score for -- Woody Allen’s first (and by far greatest) film, 1966’s Japanese Bond spoof “What’s Up, Tiger Lily?”

Yet beneath all this day-glo zaniness, the band remain widely respected and revered more for their musicianship, and in particular Sebastian’s songwriting, than they are for their happy-go-lucky mugging across Hullabaloo and Shindig. Tragically though, the luck began to run out in 1967 following the controversial arrest and subsequent removal of Yanovsky back to his home and native Canada (where, until his above-untimely demise in 2002, he continued cookin’ up storms as owner and proprietor of the legendary Chez Piggy restaurant); by 1969, all that seemed to remain of those once Good Times was the disturbing sight of John Sebastian, clothed from head to toe in tie-dyed denim, babbling about far-outness on the stage of the Woodstock Music and Art Fair. Yikes!

Nevertheless, the Lovin Spoonful remain a very vital part of 1960’s American Pop, and their early breakthrough period provided a veritable musical and visual blueprint upon which all manner of Bubblegum was shortly thereafter concocted. And as if that alone wasn’t ample legacy enough, may I now remind you all that the late, so great Zally’s 1968 solo album “Alive And Well In Argentina” just has to be one of the drop-down, most magnificent works of bubble-fried art ever created by man or beast, and as such should immediately be searched out and purchased by each and every person reading these here words.

LUV: The �ber Abba?

Wed, 03 May 2006 22:24:22 -0700

by Metal Mike Saunders

Having spent my entire life in the bargain bins, the junk bins, and the thrift store racks (and if you really want to go way back�the famous 1969-�71 mono LP 59�/79�/99� cutout bins), I don't have the kind of box-set archival access some folks do. Box sets? I've poked at a couple in my life (they weigh a lot). That's about as close as my budget (a frighteningly consistent fifty bucks/mo. for vinyl/ digital/ cassette/ 8-track product, all eras, for over twenty years now) has come to getting one to the ticket counter.

But once or twice a decade, my garbage bin study hall home hits paydirt. Summer 1998, it was in the unsorted back-wall cheapo floor boxes of a dopey San Jose �collector's store� (read: ten tons of overpriced stock) that was having a �must move� 75%-off four-week blowout. The record that stopped my flipping hand dead in its tracks was called: LUV�s Greatest Hits, a 16-song German/ Dutch pressing �1979. My immediate thought: "Ohmigod... Could this be a Dutch ABBA-knockoff (one of my most beloved of all pop groups, all time)?"

It was, they were, and this is everything I've been able to dredge up on them in the ensuing 24 months.

Parenthetically, please note: they were big, in Germany/Holland at least. Six Top 5 singles, and four more Top 10's, over three years 1978-1980 (on the Dutch charts), with back to back #1 singles just three hits into the run. Big enough throughout Europe (never charted UK) that you can still get a greatest hits CD in the Bear Family mail-order catalog. And more often than not, they were utterly wunnerful, which is why I'm writing about them.

Except for the mysterious and slightly bizarre third LP True Luv, every single track on their four full albums was produced by famous Dutch producer Hans Van Hemert, arranged by Piet Souer (and 100% by the ABBA textbook I might add), and every single darned tune written by a Janschen & Janschens pen team ( = all 36 tunes for LP's #1, 2, and 4).

Anyway. Producer Hans Van Hemert's career starts over a decade prior, with a ton of sides by Q65, the Motions, and many other Dutch beat groups. By the �70s, his "international successes" were with rather un-beat-like things like Mouth & McNeal, so you can see this guy isn't one who was gonna be sitting around the house in 1976- �77 waiting for the ��65 beat sound� to come back into vogue to pay the rent.

LUV's debut single "My Man" (#12 Dutch) is terrific faux-ABBA right out of the box, with the bonus of a daft soap opera lyric (her �man� was killed in a railroad-nightwatchman accident y'see, and the �insurance company� can shove their dirty money�she wants her man back!) and an arrangement right out of ABBA�s "Dum Dum Diddle." Back side "Don't Let Me Down" is, oddly, straight '74 glitter-rock and quite good, probably a leftover backing track of Hemert's from the year Mud/Suzi/Hello/Alvin Stardust scared everybody out of glitter rock forever.

The next single, "Dream Dream," is a rather dubious choice and only bubbled under (the Dutch Top 30). The next single broke the group when "U.O.Me" (#3 Dutch) was adopted as the intro theme tune for a TV show Waldolala.

Summer 1978's "You're The Greatest Lover" (#1 Dutch) topped the charts and continued a pattern where four straight Top 5's were actually the group's weakest, cheeziest (over towards the novelty side) tracks of the 1978-mid �79 period.

The ensuing album With LUV is pretty darned half terrific. Uptempo album cuts "Who Do You Wanna Be," "Life Is On My Side," "Louis Je T'Adore," "Get Ready," etc., are straight out of the 1976- �77 ABBA sound (i.e. their best set, Arrival) and the songwriting is dead on killer in that style, hook for hook (every tune but the #1 "Lover," and its B-side, is swell to excellent, and "Hang On" has a melody so perfect it could be a 1964 Jackie DeShannon composition). And unlike ABBA, you get this routine of all three girls chanting choruses and backing vocals that really works. Something about those soft-yet-snappy Dutch accents that is just perfect for melodic girlypop. Oh yeah, the somewhat annoying "Trojan Horse" followed "Lover" to #1 and was squeezed onto some later pressings of With LUV, depending upon the country.

The next album Lots of LUV is the reason I'm here. It's the Holy Grail of ABBA-Sound. And, unique in most rock history, it's all in reverse-mirror fashion. ABBA�s greatest parallel-universe hooks dumbed down to kinda-Germanic vocal chants, nursery rhyme lyrics ("Eeny Meeny Miny Moe," "I.M.U.R.," "D.J."), and backing tracks that are top to bottom punchier and less ornate than ABBA�s, one gigantic difference here being the far more rockin'/funkier/danceable rhythm tracks banged out by Holland's best studio musicians. As Brian Wilson will tell you, once you've got some hits goosing that studio budget, you can get the best�Hal Blaine (or the equivalent) if you got the dough to rock the house.

"Night Of Love," "I.M.U.R.," and "Shoes Off (Boots On)"�the album tracks where a new-for-'79 keyboard-synth gurgle sound accents the rhythm tracks with steady, throbbing 8th-note punctuation�in fact sound completely contemporary and danceable, 20+ years on. The songs are relentlessly hookier than any set Bjorn & Benny came up with, honest ta god. No slow songs. First time I heard this album (courtesy of Fun Records used mail order Germany, www.funrecords.de), I thought, "hey, this is pretty good!" Two plays later, I'm going, "wow, this is really good!" Fifty plays later, it's as ingrained in my skull as Beach Boys Today, Rubber Soul (U.S. version), or any other pop classic where melody, beat, and short tight songs ruled the world for thirty minutes or less.

"Casanova" (#6 Dutch) was followed by LUV's first classic-on-45, "Eeny Meeny Miny Moe" (#11 Dutch), where melodic simplicity and stomp-beat and utter lyrical idiocy combine to�well, we're talking Revenge of the Archies here! This tune even worked in a recurring hook on acoustic guitar that comes off like Slade-plays-"Fernando"(ABBA)... genius.

Next album, True LUV (also 1979) and the songs are gone. Producer/ arranger Hemert and Souer have hijacked the songwriting, all but two tunes (which coulda been 2nd LP leftovers), and the whole ship crashes. Their ten tunes, ranging from okay to plain wanky, show none of Janschen/Janschen's ABBA-chops; boy, it's a downright debacle. The lead single "Ooh Yes I Do" (#5 Dutch) did some action (and was not criminally cheesier than their second through fourth hits), but its follow-up "Ann Maria" (#11 Dutch) had no redeeming qualities. The True LUV stinkbomb was only on the album charts (#11 LP, Dutch) one-third as long as With LUV and Lots of LUV (#6 and #7 Dutch) albums.

The final time around as 1980 starts a new decade, Forever Yours has LUV back (i.e. Marga Scheide, Jose Wijdeven, and Patty Brard, minus Patty and plus her replacement Ria Thielsch) with all Janschen & Janschens tunes. Like ABBA, the style and tunes have changed a bit. Lead single "One More Little Kissy" makes #9 even though it's the weakest of their cheesy-novelty A-sides ever. The next single "My Number One" did just swell (#5 Dutch), and deservedly so cause it's a catchy uptempo shuffle humalonger with wack faux-bagpipes sounds; cheerily reminiscent of Steeleye Span's hit "All Around My Hat" (1975, #5 UK), go figure. "I Win It," "Ooh I Like It Too" and a couple other album tracks are snappy old-school ABBA; "The Show Must Go On" is a pleasure in the newer, slower, more dramatic '78-'82 ABBA style, which shows you that Janschen & Janschens were nothing if not paying attention. The middle half of Side 1 sees two or three songs pile up with nice hooks, very pleasant, but not much toe-tapping and a long way from 1979 and old-school LUV/ ABBA. The real downside is J&J's replica of the new, boring ABBA sound�slow, aimless ballady things called "Song of Love and Understanding," "Some Call It Happiness," and "Mother of the Hearts" (I can't even type these titles without falling asleep) that don't get halfway to the finish line without someone yanking the needle. Think "Thank You for the Music," or whatever late-ABBA song that sends you to snoozeland as well.

Oh yeah, hey, then there's LUV's final single (track five here)�"Tingalingaling." Yup, their swan song is their masterpiece, fitting for an act whose career is such a compressed ('78-'80) blaze of glory and then disaster (the True LUV shipwreck not explained anywhere on the Web, not even in German). "Tingalingaling" is 2:29 (!!�this was 1980, remember) of everything that puts this group in my personal Pop Hall Of Fame (screw those �rock� museums anyway, d'you think they're ever gonna let any of Kirshner's finest in?). Gurgle keyboardsynth rhythm sounds, dead on nursery rhyme melody, idiotic playground lyrics, chanted choruses, and a beat that is utterly as contemporary and danceable as any of Year 2000's Cheiron/ Max Martin/ Stockholm hit monsters that deservedly rule today's pop world (the link between ABBA/LUV and 1997- �98's Swedish-conceived teenpop explosion being, of course, Ace of Base and their late producer Denniz Pop, at his same Stockholm Cheiron Studios).

�Tingaling" didn't hit Top 20 (#29 Dutch in summer '81), and that's it, boom, no more LUV.

Subsequent solo product and late �80s reformed LUV product is all inconsequential�an album by ex-LUV Jose Wijdeven The Good Times (1982, w/two Top 10 Dutch singles) that's somewhat girl group redolent (covers of "I Will Follow Him" and "I Can Hear Music" amongst the A-sides) but mostly �80s-dull; a German-language album titled Herinnering by Bonnie & Jose with all the material penned courtesy of, guess who, Bjorn & Benny (but as deathly dull as the Chess soundtrack in their early-mid �80s end-period ABBA dirge style).

A reformed LUV shows up on various 1989-1991 product, i.e. various CDs and CD maxi-singles of which large parts are in (some tracks even by) the Stock-Aitken-Waterman style but very average. In a fitting postscript, a LUV-hits "Megamix" single scratches Top 20 in summer 1993, and takes the LUV Gold hits collection into the Top 10.

So okay, I bite. If ABBA are (by many) in retrospect considered the touchstone �70s pop group...and if 1979's Lots of LUV by Holland's worst-attired (but most enthusiastic, not to mention wielding more convincing phonetic-English than Anna/Frida ever mustered) is very arguably the definitive Abba set... wow, that's the kind of conundrum that collapses entire universes. And they didn't even have to write one damn song to do it.

The Partridge Family + The Manson Family = The Poppy Family

Wed, 03 May 2006 22:21:51 -0700

by Kim Cooper

The sixties ended with bloodbaths at Cielo Drive and Altamont, and as 1970 slouched into view there was no reason to think that the giddy bubblegum genre had one last great wad in its maw. But up in the wilds of Vancouver, B.C., a young married couple was forging a new style of bubblepop, suffused with a blast of stale dark air that was utterly redolent of the times.

From our present vantage it seems obvious that all that folk-rock-protest crap was just an entertaining shuck, and the only songwriters who were really tapped into the esprit des temps were Boyce and Hart, Bo Gentry, Kasenetz and Katz, Neil Diamond and the like. Bubblegum hid its insight into politics and human behavior in a midst of infantile fancy, but in the end it's songs like the Archies' "Hot Dog" and "Love Beads and Meditation" by the Lemon Pipers (that's the one that goes "the tangled mass of membranes that used to be me/ is a memory") that continue to speak to the youth of today, while few still breathe who can tell Zager from Evans. It's no accident that this music was only appreciated by eight year olds when it came out, because little kids had tons more on the ball than their boo-huffin' older siblings, not to mention the critics, who were too busy praising Dylan's new direction(s) to notice all the great music on Saturday morning TV. But I digress.

Terry and Susan Jacks recorded two albums for London Records as the Poppy Family before Terry's lumberjack obsessions made Susan decide to hit to road running while she still had her health and looks. And despite her indisputable talent (imagine a Karen Carpenter who really meant it), it must have been her looks that got Mrs. Jacks noticed, especially when contrasted with the weirdos in her band. Terry resembled a misguided genetic experiment fusing a komodo dragon with one of the Campbell's Soup kids, and had been a walking bad hair day for years. The session hacks who masqueraded as band members looked stranger still. Satwant Singh could have been the model for Apu, the Kwik-Mart manager on "The Simpsons," right up to the turban that added six inches to his height. And Craig Mccaw seems to have been a stoned lumberjack like Terry, although his coke-bottle glasses and white boy 'fro gave him the look of a White Panther sympathizer. Against this nebbishy cross-section, Susan stood out like a goddess. She had a compact, curvy figure that she liked to drape in skintight red jumpsuits, nicely offsetting the bubble of platinum hair that grazed her shoulders. With her sexy smile and feline eyes, she was your basic Vegas-style knockout. She must have caused quite a stir up there in the woods, and it was only a matter of time before she caught the attention of lecherous label execs throughout the lower 48.

The debut album, Which Way You Goin', Billy?, is a haunting brace of menacing melodies, featuring eleven atmospheric classics and one hilariously misguided dog. From the opening number, the broken-hearted bus-ride opus "That's Where I Went Wrong," there's a dizzying air of mystery and hopelessness, with Terry's impressive studio work adding to the general sense of doom. Terry's songs have a knack for never resolving the troubled situations they describe, trailing off into washes of eerie noise instead. Despite the brilliance and difficulty of the album, the title song (a pathetic tale of abandoned womanhood) was a big hit�#2 in the United States; #1 in Canada and the best selling single ever�and "That's Where I Went Wrong" sold a million units as the follow up single. One song that was not a hit, although in a just world it would have been, is "There's No Blood in Bone," which begins with a terrifying spoken section where the pitch of Susan's voice careens widely as she intones "Marie now walks�her life is sleep�she never looks above her feet�she never smiles nor�does�she�speak." The song lives up to this demented introduction, and surpasses it, as Susan sings "When Joey died Marie went mad" over a kinetic backing track featuring a fuzz guitar roar every bit as startling as the proto-metal solo in the Carpenters' "Goodbye to Love." It's a good thing they picked this song to close the first side, because after hearing it any listener would be drenched in sweat and in serious need of a drink. In this chemically benumbed state, we're ready to continue.

Terry runs aground on side two when he briefly forgets that he's not Phil Ochs, and attempts to write a strict racio-political polemic: "What Can the Matter Be?" Over a tinkling music box backing, Susan sings an odious p.c. lyric about a black child kept from opportunity by the color of his skin. The whole number stinks of the Free to Be You and Me ethos, and is only redeemed by the amusing couplet, "Though his mind is his own it seems all that he's got/ Is six months in jail for just smoking pot." This is, however, just a momentary misstep on an otherwise groovy album.

One lyrical theme that recurs with monomaniacal frequency is a retreat from the moral and physical decay of the city, with a suggestion that the only way out is through a descent into drugs or psychosis. The epic (3:52) final track, "Of Cities and Escapes" is sung by Terry in the persona of a manic-depressive who lives in a cell-like apartment overlooking a hellish modern city. He's too edgy to answer the phone or read a newspaper, so instead he goes on the nod: "High in my mind/ Out of the reach of time/ I'm moving far beyond the city and its paranoid storm." But at the end the poor slob has to come down, and nothing has changed. It's an unspeakably miserable way to end a nearly perfect record.

Perfection could have been attained easily enough, had London put the b-side of "Which Way You Goin', Billy?" somewhere on the album. That was a mind-blowing cover of Jody Reynolds' teen-death classic "Endless Sleep" that's up there with the best stuff on the LP. But at this point I guess Terry felt that he could afford to leave great songs on the backs of his singles. He was riding high, writing fast and exquisitely. This creative spree, sadly, was soon to end.

While the follow-up, the cutely-named Poppy Seeds (1971) has a few remarkable tracks, the paucity of original songs bespeaks a serious sophomore slump. As Terry explained in interviews around the time of "Seasons in the Sun," the break-up of the Poppy Family was largely due to the conflict between Susan's love of touring and his need to be home to write. Terry also 'fessed up after "Seasons" that the Poppy Family had never really been a band, but anyone who saw the cover of Poppy Seeds could have told you that. The sleeve photos were of just Terry and Susan, both sporting looser, more countrified appearances. They're actually frolicking with barnyard animals on the back cover, Terry grinning like a loon by a calf's rear end, and Susan has wisely exchanged her showgirl duds for a crocheted earth mother outfit. Of particular interest on Poppy Seeds are the rocking "Someone Must Have Jumped," which ends with a wild guitar solo that gives way to a honking wah-wah Beefheart screech, and "Where Evil Grows," the first single. "Evil" is simply the greatest dark bubblegum song ever written, and one of the Jacks' rare duets. Over a sinuous nursery rhyme melody, Terry and Susan inform us that "Evil grows in the dark where the sun it never shines/ Evil grows in cracks and holes and lives in peoples' minds/ Evil grew, it's part of you, and now it seems to be/ Every time I look at you, evil grows in me." And how!

And yet Poppy Seeds is very nearly a citified c&w album, with half of the twelve songs written by guys like Merle Haggard. Not that there's anything wrong with Merle Haggard, but his song is so normal that it's a letdown after the strange glories of the first album. No non-LP b-sides this time. The band split up soon after, with Terry retiring to Vancouver to establish Goldfish Records and produce Susan's subsequent solo albums. He lost his already small interest in rock stardom, realizing that his true desire was to do a great deal of fishing and hunting, and to get in the occasional round of golf. Any difficulty he might have had in financing this lifestyle were solved once he released �Seasons in the Sun,� which ironically he'd been trying to convince such artists as the Beach Boys and Edward Bear to record for years. No one was as enthusiastic as Terry was about the song, so he finally recorded it himself and hit the worldwide Top 40 jackpot. Maudlin, lyrically confused, terribly French, the song must be respected if only because it gave Terry Jacks some of the recognition and success he'd earned during the life span of the Poppy Family. Of course that doesn't mean you ought to listen to the damn thing!

Terry's still up in Vancouver, apparently living an outdoor life which now incorporates a boat called, yup, Seasons in the Sun. If you see the first Poppy Family album for sale, BUY IT! It offers such a lovely mixture of depression and elation that you'll probably end up with altered brain chemistry and maybe even nightmares. And if that doesn't sound good to you, then I can't imagine what would.

Slik and the Quick�A Double Sugar Fix from �76

Wed, 03 May 2006 22:18:16 -0700

by P. Edwin Letcher

1976 was a weird, transitional period in the music world. Just a few years earlier, "glamour" had changed the look and sound of your average pop band. Androgyny and flamboyance reigned supreme as the yardstick for rebellious rocker behavior. In a few more years, the landscape would be ever more segregated into practically warlike zones populated by punks, progressives, dinosaurs, etc. For a while, though, there were plenty of bands that came up with an individualistic fashion statement and embraced the vision of being a wholesome pop band that could develop their own sound, write some well-crafted material, get a few breaks and become the next Beatles... or at least the next Lovin' Spoonful.

Two such outfits, Los Angeles' The Quick and Britain's Slik, had a lot more in common than just names that rhyme. It seems to me that both groups must have been exposed to the happy-go-lucky sounds of the 1910 Fruitgum Co., Ohio Express, the Archies and all the other kid-friendly groups as part of their musical upbringing. Both bands debuted on a major label and had a crack production team behind them. The Quick put out exactly one album, Mondo Deco on Mercury, which was produced by Kim Fowley and Earle Mankey, a couple of rock veterans who were on the prowl for a marketable new wrinkle. Slik also released one album, a self titled affair on Arista, under the guiding hands of Phil Coulter and Bill Martin, another pair in search of the next big thing. Both bands opted for hair cuts that were a little shorter and much more stylish than their hippie predecessors, and dressed as a unit in a modified preppie mode. The Quick chose black and white, satiny togs for the cover of their lone album, with two members decked out in mock sailor duds. I believe Slik borrowed fairly heavily from The Bay City Rollers for their general vibe, but lifted their hair styles from '50s teen idols, and found some baseball players' uniforms to pirate for their photo shoot.

The Quick featured a lead vocalist, Danny Wilde, who went on to front Great Buildings and then the Rembrandts, whose Friends theme song, "I'll Be There For You," has been a tremendous success. Slik had a lead vocalist, Midge Ure, who went on to bigger and better in Ultravox, Visage and as a solo artist. Of the two ensembles, I prefer The Quick. They are bouncier, wrote most of their own infectious, glucose-rich material, and did a masterful job turning the Beatles' "It Won't Be Long" and the 4 Seasons' "Rag Doll" into peppy pop confections that out-cute the originals by far. Though couched in youthful angst, their tunes, "No No Girl," "Hillary" and "Hi Lo," are ooey gooey, good time fun. Slik had a somewhat slower paced, power ballad approach, fell back on their producers for much of their songwriting and tried to turn the Everly Brothers' "When Will I Be Loved" into a plodding, heavy-handed brooder. But some of Slik's songs, like "Bom, Bom," "Requiem" and "The Kid's a Punk," would have worked well as background fluff for some Saturday morning animated puppy band.

I purchased both albums, when they were "hot, new commodities," while I was going through a phase in which I was actively looking for something "different." In retrospect, the Quick sound a bit like the Ohio Express or Tommy Roe crossed with the Dickies. (Hmmm, I wonder if Leonard Graves Phillips and crew got any of their inspiration from the adrenalized, helium-happy antics of Danny Wilde and his buds?) While the Quick are shown chowing down on ice cream, bananas and other sweet treats on the cover of their album, Slik sounds more like the Banana Splits. Like the Monkees, the Jaggerz and various others, Slik probably thought they were pretty street tough, but at least half of their material would appeal to Turtles fans. It's a shame they didn't have a heavy member with an Anglo Afro. Both bands would likely have abhorred being labeled bubblegum boppers when they were trying to carve out a niche for themselves but, dagnabit, they both smack of over produced, schmaltzy, teen dance fever.

The Wombles

Wed, 03 May 2006 21:53:51 -0700

by Bill Pitzonka

In 1974, the British charts were awash in glam rockers and toothy teen idols. Rising somewhat surprisingly above this glittery sea to claim Music Week's Top Singles Act of the Year was a group of furry, burrow-dwelling litter-gatherers�the Wombles. And just like the Archies before them, the Wombles made the leap from printed page to pop playlists via the power of television.

British author Elizabeth Beresford was walking on Wimbledon Common with her children when she was inspired to write about �the tidiest creatures in the world� which �go round clearing up the rubbish which has been left behind by people.� The Wombles debuted in 1968, and the adventures of these cuddly recyclers proved so immensely popular that two further volumes followed: The Wandering Wombles in 1970 and The Wombles At Work in 1973. That year, Filmfair acquired the television rights and commissioned Mike Batt to write the theme song.

The classically trained Batt had been a member of the chamber rock group Hapshash & The Coloured Coat, which recorded for Liberty /Imperial in 1967. He had since written numerous commercial jingles, arranged and orchestrated many a pop recording session, and released several high-quality budget-label cover albums. He waived the flat fee offered and instead wrangled the music rights to make the Wombles an authentic recording outfit, taking on all the creative duties�writing, arranging, producing, even performing all the vocals. To help him get into character, his mother made him a Womble suit, which he wore for an entire week.

Batt notes that "the first album [Wombling Songs] was really just character songs and background music for the television series." Though he dismisses the album as "rather twee," it did feature the group's first and longest-running chart single, "The Wombling Song," which hit #4 and spent 23 weeks in the British Top 75.

"The second album [Remember You're A Womble] was really the first proper album for the Wombles as a group," Batt beams with justifiable pride. Indeed it spawned three sizable and musically disparate hit singles: the title track was a rockin' call-and-response number with a highland jig break that hit #3; the sax-driven reggae of "Banana Rock" limboed up to #9; and most surprisingly, "Minuetto Allegretto"�an authentic Mozart minuet complete with period orchestration�waltzed up to #16. By this time, the Wombles were also making personal appearances as a five-member group in full costume�Orinoco on vocals and sax, Wellington on lead guitar, Madame Cholet on bass guitar, Great Uncle Bulgaria on violin, and Bungo on drums. In addition to performing as Orinoco, Batt somehow managed to corral stalwart session guitarist Chris Spedding (who would later produce three cuts on the Sex Pistols� album) to suit up and strap on a flying-V guitar as Wellington.

The Wombles set off to conquer America in the summer of 1974. CBS Television aired Womble shorts on Captain Kangaroo, and Columbia Records issued a slightly revamped version of the Remember You're A Womble album for their stateside debut. The first single was the spot-on Beach Boys homage "Wombling Summer Party," a tightly edited version of "Non-Stop Wombling Summer Party" (down to the title). Despite the overtly American theme, the single only wombled halfway up the Billboard Hot 100 to #55 in August. "Remember You're A Womble" was quickly issued as the follow-up, but it was the last Wombles recording released in the U.S. Batt still regrets that "Wombling U.S.A.," which he had written specifically for the American market, was never released�even in the U.K.

Back in Britain, the Wombles capped off 1974 with the Spectoresque "Wombling Merry Christmas"�a #2 hit and their highest-charting single. The parent album Keep On Wombling was released in the new year. Its first side was a concept suite, which followed the adventures of Orinoco, the sleepiest Womble, through a series of dreams.

The Wombles� fourth album Superwombling arrived mid-1975, and proved that Batt was adept at maneuvering his fictional charges through any musical style he pleased: Barbershop harmony ("Down At The Barbershop"), spaghetti Western ("The Orinoco Kid"), James Bond themes ("To Wimbledon With Love"). He even cast them in a classic Hollywood musical (complete with tap dancing) for the single, "Wombling White Tie and Tails," a #22 hit. The follow-up "Super Womble," their sort-of stab at glam including a wheezy harmonica solo and varispeed chorus, leapt to #20.

They closed out the year with their final charting single, "Let's Womble To The Party," a swing-style number that stomped up to #34. By this time, Mike Batt's talents were being sought after by all manner of artists, including Steeleye Span and Kursaal Flyers. He even issued his first (and only charting) solo single, "Summertime City," which was the theme for, as he puts it, "a dreadful series called Seaside Summer." So dreadful, apparently, that despite its #4 chart peak, he refuses to allow the track to be reissued.

As for the Wombles themselves, their television series ended after the second season. They did manage one last hurrah on the big screen�the film Wombling Free for which Mike Batt rehashed major portions of their existing repertoire. As a symbolic parting gesture, he issued the tuneful single "Rainmaker" in 1976, credited to Wellington Womble as a solo artist, to signal the breakup of the band.

Mike Batt went on to record a string of adventurous solo albums (Schizophonia, Six Days in Berlin) which have made him perennially popular in Germany. And while the Wombles never gave him a #1 single, he did top the UK chart in 1979 thanks to another group of furry burrow-dwellers from children's literature: He wrote, arranged, and produced Art Garfunkel's hit "Bright Eyes," from the animated film of Richard Adams's rabbit-warren-as-human-condition parable Watership Down. It stayed in the pole position for six weeks and was the year's biggest selling single. Batt also wrote a full-scale musical based on Lewis Carroll's The Hunting Of The Snark, which played at London's Prince Edward Theatre in 1987.

1998 marked the silver anniversary of the Wombles� U.K. television debut. To commemorate the occasion, Columbia Records and Reader�s Digest both issued CD retrospectives of Wombles hits. Columbia even rereleased two singles, "Remember You're A Womble" and "The Wombling Song," which both hit the Top 30. A new series of Wombles television programs was commissioned, and Mike Batt, as busy as ever, found time to come up with new material for his old "bandmates." Twenty-five years later, the Wombles are still cleaning up.

The Bay City Rollers

Wed, 03 May 2006 21:41:29 -0700

by Carl Cafarelli

Teen idols seem to have a built-in obsolescence, virtually guaranteeing a short career for any artist whose primary appeal is to a fickle preteen female market. For the self-consciously hip, the teen idol tag carries a stigma beyond easy redemption, and the artists who cater to this market risk being forever branded as uncool.

In this context, no band was less cool in the '70s than the Bay City Rollers, whose management went so far as to tout this harmless Scottish quintet as the �next Beatles.� That claim may seem ludicrous now (just as it did then), but the Rollers were nonetheless one of the biggest pop phenomena of the decade.

We'll dispense with the standard rap on the Bay City Rollers' tartan-clad teenybop image and all the hype. At this point, suffice it to say that the Rollers were an often-underrated, occasionally (if infrequently) terrific power pop group.

The Bay City Rollers began circa 1967 as an Edinburgh, Scotland cover band called the Saxons. The Saxons included brothers Alan and Derek Longmuir, on bass and drums respectively, with singer Nobby Clarke. That trio remained through various Saxons line-ups. Seeking a more American-sounding name, a pin was struck randomly into a map of the United States. The pin landed on Bay City, Michigan, and the Bay City Rollers were born.

The Bay City Rollers' first single, a cover of the Gentrys' "Keep On Dancing," became a # 9 British hit in 1971. But follow-up singles, including an early version of "Saturday Night," were comparative flops. By now, Clarke and the Longmuirs had been joined in Rollerdom by guitarists Eric Faulkner and Stuart "Woody" Wood. Clarke himself soon quit, to be replaced on lead vocals by Les McKeown.

The Rollers didn't play on any of their records until "Bye Bye Baby," a cover of the 4 Seasons' hit. Rollermania took Britain by storm, and was eventually exported to America via a new, McKeown-sung version of "Saturday Night" (a song which directly inspired the Ramones' own chanting "Blitzkrieg Bop," believe it or not).

The Rollers' recorded legacy is a mixed bag, offering a fair amount of drippy ballads and some bona fide rockin' pop. Bay City Rollers is notable mostly for "Saturday Night." Rock N' Roll Love Letter contains four of the group's best power pop tracks, "Money Honey," "Rock And Roll Love Letter," "Wouldn't You Like It" and "Too Young To Rock & Roll." "Wouldn't You Like It," in particular, is a dynamic power pop number that should have been a single.

Alan Longmuir was replaced by Ian Mitchell on Dedication. Produced by Raspberries veteran Jimmy Ienner, Dedication suffers from weak material, including very lame attempts at Beach Boys and Raspberries covers, but is redeemed by the rockin' Faulkner-Wood "Rock 'N Roller," a reasonably cool cover of Dusty Springfield's "I Only Want To be With You" and a superb reading of Vanda and Young's terrific "Yesterday's Hero." Mitchell then split after a scant six-month stint; his replacement, Pat McGlynn, didn't even stay that long.

As a quartet, the Rollers released the slick It's A Game album as an attempt to bridge the adult and teen markets, eschewing both standard teenybop ballads and power pop. Instead, it offers an unlikely melange of Manilowesque crooning, disco styling and even a cover of David Bowie's "Rebel, Rebel."

Greatest Hits represents the final cash-in at the end of the group's commercial reign. A perfunctory best-of, it includes the American singles, both hits and misses, but omits essential LP tracks "Wouldn't You Like It," "Too Young To Rock & Roll' and "Rock 'N Roller." Arista reissued it on CD in 1991.

In 1978 the group (with Alan Longmuir back in the fold) starred on NBC in a Saturday morning kiddie TV show produced by Sid and Marty Krofft and released the forgettable Strangers In The Wind. When the TV show ended, McKeown split.

Duncan Faure, formerly of the South African group Rabbit, was McKeown's replacement. The group changed its focus, dumped the tartan outfits and teen image, and shortened its name to simply the Rollers. Elevator was the result, the most aggressive-sounding album the group ever made. Granted, there's nothing on Elevator to equal "Rock And Roll Love Letter," "Wouldn't You Like It" or "Yesterday's Hero," but it is far more consistently listenable than any other Rollers album. Key tracks include "Elevator," "Playing In A Rock And Roll Band," "I Was Eleven," "Turn On The Radio," "Instant Relay" and "Who'll Be My Keeper." The resulting sound could be compared to the Babys, or a more AOR-oriented version of the Records. If nothing else, it shows the Rollers as contenders, if not quite the next Beatles. It stiffed horribly, and was the last Rollers album issued in America.

The rare and little-heard Voxx is reportedly a contract-breaking set of odds and ends (if not sods). Ricochet follows in Elevator's footsteps, but is not its equal. The original group reportedly got back together in the mid-'80s for a reunion concert, and released one synth-dominated album, Breakout, before splitting again. [This writer has never heard either Live In Japan or Breakout, but we're told that the former is a triumph and the latter a tragedy.] A later version of the group, still featuring Faulkner and Wood, released Bye Bye Baby, a pathetic collection of remakes of old Rollers tunes. It is surely not representative of how one might wish to remember the Bay City Rollers.

That neither the Bay City Rollers nor the just-plain Rollers were the next Beatles is hardly a startling revelation. Maybe they were the next Herman's Hermits, or the next Banana Splits. Who cares? No matter how many self-appointed arbiters of hip despised the Rollers, there were nonetheless others who thought they were... well, kinda neat. Dee Dee Ramone was a Rollers fan; according to Johnny Ramone, the Bay City Rollers were a much bigger influence on the Ramones' brand of pop-fueled punk than anyone would have ever thought likely. And Nick Lowe's "Rollers Show," whether parody or pastiche, had to have some affection behind it.

Evidence for the Rollers' case still survives in the grooves. A quick spin of "Wouldn't You Like It," "Yesterday's Hero," "Who'll Be My Keeper," "Too Young To Rock & Roll," "I Only Want To Be With You," "Rock 'N Roller," "Saturday Night," "Money Honey" and "Rock And Roll Love Letter" makes a convincing argument for the Bay City Rollers as power pop savants.

And, perhaps more importantly, there are thousands of grown-up little girls who will cherish a memory of the Bay City Rollers forever. For that, even by itself, the Bay City Rollers were cool.

Strawberry Studios

Wed, 03 May 2006 21:26:14 -0700

by Dave Thompson

Late in 1969, Kasenetz-Katz approached English songsmith Graham Gouldman with the offer of working for them. Gouldman was, after all, one of Britain's most accomplished hitmakers, the name behind a string of hits by the Yardbirds, Jeff Beck, Herman's Hermits, the Hollies... even Cher had recorded a Graham Gouldman number.

Over the last couple of years, though, Gouldman's pen had fallen on hard times. His own attempts to break into the bubblegum market, first through the Graham Gouldman Orchestra's lightweight versions of his own greatest hits, then via one-time chart heroes the Mindbenders, had signally failed to take off; and with the bulk of Gouldman's income being plowed into the studios he was opening with fellow 'bender Eric Stewart, Kasenetz-Katz's offer came just at the right time.

In return for a generous advance, the deal didn�t just buy Kasenetz-Katz a proven songwriter. It also guaranteed them unlimited studio time at Gouldman's Strawberry Studios, and unlimited use of the studio's house musicians�Gouldman, Stewart, and a pair of dilettante ex-art students they'd both known for years, Lol Creme and Kevin Godley. None of them were exactly thrilled at the prospects, though. "We were very well paid for churning that stuff out,� Gouldman reflected years later. "But it's not a time we look back on with any feelings of pride."

He sells their achievements short. Not only did the Strawberry crew swiftly establish itself as bubblebashers par excellence, creating a string of latter-day Super K masterpieces and kickstarting the British gum scene as well, with the inexorable "Neanderthal Man;" they also rejuvenated Neil Sedaka's career, and emerged at the end of it as 10cc, and that was no small potatoes either. "The whole thing was incredible," Gouldman marveled. "Over a period of one year I wrote, and saw recorded, about twenty songs, which was a very high output for me."

Freddie and the Dreamers' version of Gouldman's "Susan's Tuba" sold over two million copies in France; the Ohio Express' "Sausalito" went Top 100 in the U.S. ("Tampa, Florida" wasn't quite so lucky), and "Have You Ever Been To Georgia" landed balladeer Tony Christie�who shared Gouldman's management company�a hit across much of Europe.

He missed out, however, on the studio's biggest hit, an irony compounded even further by the song's actual composers themselves being unaware that they'd actually written anything saleable. Stewart, Godley and Creme were simply testing the studio's percussion, says Stewart, "when Dick Leahy, from Phillips, came in and he said, `What the hell's that you're playing?' I said, 'It's a studio experiment; a percussive experiment.' He says, 'can we release it?' And we said, 'Yeah, okay'."

Credited to Hotlegs, "Neanderthal Man" would reach #22 in the U.S., #2 in Britain, #1 in Italy, and was probably single-handedly responsible for Jimmy Castor's entire hit-making career. It also spawned covers by the Idle Race and Elton John, but for Hotlegs themselves, success came with a sting.

Irretrievably tarred by "Neanderthal Man," nothing else Hotlegs did paid off, and within six months, Godley, Creme, Gouldman and Stewart were back on the pop production line, cutting singles with such giants of music as the Manchester City, Sheffield Wednesday and Leeds United soccer teams, comedian Les Reed, and Led Zeppelin's John Paul Jones... except he wasn't Led Zeppelin's after all, as Page and Plant's old bandmate explains.

"I'd worked with Graham for years, we basically did his whole solo album (1968's The Graham Gouldman Thing) together. So when his manager, Harvey Lisburg called me and said, they've got this comedian guy, and would I mind if they called him John Paul Jones... go ahead, won't hurt me. The next thing I knew, John Paul Jones is on the chart with this crap, crap song, and everyone thinks its me. Thanks, Harvey!" Litigation turned Jones to Joans, but back at Strawberry Central, work went on as before.

Godley-Creme's "There Ain't No Umbopo" would be the team's final Kasenetz-Katz success, a rolling, boiling boogie which had even less to do with a pure bubblegum ethic than Crazy Elephant records normally did. Neil Sedaka loved it, though, and called Harvey Lisburg to tell him so. "He said he wanted to try recording in England, and I said that if he did, I'd get the boys who produced 'Umbopo'."

The result, the multi-million selling Solitaire album, solidly relaunched Sedaka's career, but importantly, it ignited the Strawberry quartet's as well. "Sedaka did so well, and all we got was session fees," Eric Stewart recalled. "So we went out to a Chinese restaurant and asked ourselves whether we shouldn't pool our creative talents in a group."

They decided that they should.