Animation + Rock = Fun: The Danny Hutton Interview

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

Bubblegum documentary screening in Venice, CA

7 DUDLEY CINEMA at SPONTO Gallery, 7 Dudley Ave, Venice, 310-306-7330, Free! 

Come early – seating is limited 

WED., March 14, 7pm preshow: Author Domenic Priore,  Luxuriamusic.com DJ Becky Ebenkamp and anthology editor Kim Cooper screen LA’s rare back-door hit Shrimpenstein! Ostensibly a children’s puppet show (adult satire in disguise), this ’66 KHJ-Channel 9 warper featured booze & LSD jokes. Local fans included the Rat Pack & Rod Serling.

8pm. BUBBLEGUM MUSIC IS THE NAKED TRUTH! (’05, 93min) Based on Kim Cooper and David Smay’s book, Kier-La Janisse’s compilation of prepubescent pop from ’67 to ’72 features rare footage of the 1910 Fruitgum Company, The Archies, Ohio Express, The Sweet, The Bay City Rollers, the Banana Splits, the Wombles & the Jackson 5 Cartoon. It dismantles the worst myths about how bubblegum is produced and identifies the gum tendencies of artists as varied as the Sex Pistols, Abba, the Monkees and the Ramones.

Hanna-Barbera by Becky Ebenkamp

Hanna-Barbera
by Becky Ebenkamp

While the studio may not garner the type of respect reserved for animation behemoths Disney and Warner Brothers, indisputably, Hanna-Barbera rules the cartoon kingdom in one contest: the battle of the bands.   Sure, The Alvin Show may have technically invented the animated music video, and Filmation proved a worthy competitor in the ‘70s with The Brady Kids and The Archies.   But per cartoon capita, HB gave us the most rock ‘n’ roll bang for our buck, serving up more beat-crazed bands—both of the real and imaginary variety—than you could shake a tambourine at.   The result: instant bubblegum.

The Impossibles (1966) were HB’s first experiment with a full rock ‘n’ roll concept cartoon, although rarely was more than a line or two of lyric heard before these superheroes-masquerading-as-pop-stars were summoned to go fight crime via a TV monitor in Coil Man’s guitar.  The shaggy-haired trio married a jangly Rickenbacker-type sound with generic teenybopper lyrics, an effect that rendered them a less contemplative Beau Brummels.  Songs are hooky, but these snippets are unsatisfying, and one gets the sense that full songs were never penned.  Case in point, the lyrics to “Caesar’s Place”:

Let’s go to Caesar’s Place
Let’s go to Caesar’s Place
Let’s go to Caesar’s Place
Let’s go to Caesar’s Place
(Refrain)

Get the picture?

*****

A year after Gram Parsons introduced the Byrds to the pedal steel guitar, the Cattanooga Cats were busy adding some country flavor to Saturday morning TV.   Scoots, Country, Groove and go-go girl Kitty Jo didn’t solve any crimes, but as a band on constant tour they were presented with many a wacky adventure to sing their way out of.  But while the Cats’ look and accents clearly originated below the Mason-Dixon line, their music was pure pop, with song duties handled by singer/ songwriter Michael Lloyd, who headed psychedelic cult faves The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band, Smoke and October Country.   Peggy Clinger  of recording group the Clinger Sisters handled Kitty Jo’s vocals and wrote material as well.  Producer of the project: Mike Curb.    Lloyd and Clinger didn’t need any help rattling off perfect three-minute pop songs in even less time, so HB’s relatively hands-off strategy paid off.   Furthermore, songs penned and performed by the youthful musicians—Lloyd was 17 at the time—instead of hacks trying to knock off Billboard hits lent the project a credible vibe and allowed for the dissemination of cryptic counter-culture messages like free love and non-conformity, as witnessed in the winning theme song:

The Cattanooga Cats don’t go meow
Wouldn’t try if they knew how
They’re doin’ their thing

The idea that this was going to be something special is relayed fully in the show opener, where the song is paired with animation master Iwao Takamoto‘s stroblelike series of op art images and shots of the kitty cat group playing their instruments to a psychedelic light show.   In the children’s-game-as-metaphor-for-love songwriting subgenre, the Cats’ “Mother May I” and “Alle Alle Oxen Free” stand up to “Simon Says,” “1-2-3 Red Light” or any other 1910 Fruitgum Company song for that matter.  In the latter, Lloyd’s breathy vocals imbue the lyrics and bouncy organ with a deliciously dangerous, dirty feel:

Hey little girl starin’ down at me
From your window can’t you see
It’s gonna be a groovy day
Why don’t you come out and play

Alle Alle Oxen Free
C’mon run on home with me
Just by nimble and be quick
We’re gonna jump the candlestick

Eleven tunes were released on a Forward Records LP, and many more were featured during the show’s psychedelic “videos,” where lyrics were visually interpreted with animation reminiscent of Yellow Submarine and Peter Max.

While the studio probably didn’t realize it at the time, the launch of Scooby-Doo, Where Are You! (1969) signaled a new direction in cartooning and ignited a trend that would stampede the airwaves over the next decade.  With Scooby, HB laid out the plot and character archetypes  that would be trotted out again and again and again as the ‘70s dawned and animation became increasingly recyclable: the rockin’ sleuths.

Of course, the Scooby Gang never strapped on Stratocasters, but bubblegum music composed and sung by Danny Janssen accompanied the meddling teens as they took chase from ghouls, mummies and various villains in the show’s second season.  Not to mention a theme song (Written by David Mook/Ben Raleigh) so inherently swell that even a Third Eye Blind couldn’t wreck it. 

Highlights include “Tell Me, Tell Me,” with a great fakeout opening that steals its gospely strains from Joe Cocker’s version of “A Little Help From My Friends”  (something scarier than any Scooby episode).  Thankfully, the tune quickly shifts to a winning combo of longing-for-love lyrics, off-kilter time changes and Partridge Family structure, all reeled in with a catchy “Na-na-na-na-na-na-na” hook.   “Recipe for My Love” has the singer struggling with the issue of a how to concoct his girlfriend, although the reason why he needs to isn’t clear (Did they break up?  Is she out of town on a business trip?).  Ingredients include the bubblegum-friendly “cup full of sunshine,” “touch of a rainbow” and “a little bit from a song I know.” But, he adds wistfully, “All that couldn’t make up my baby and what my baby means to me.”  Janssen’s songs are available on Scooby-Doo’s Snack Tracks, released by Rhino in 1998.

1970 was a year that unleashed a pair of female-led musical trios that straddled the fine line between exploitation and feminism.  In Russ Meyer’s Beyond the Valley of the Dolls, the hedonistic Carry Nations slept and rocked their way to the top.  But considering its broader audience comprised of young, impressionable viewers, HB’s girl group had much more impact on our collective psyche.  Like the Carry Nations, Josie & the Pussycats played their own instruments.  Dressed in feline outfits that appeared to be lifted off the marquee of L.A.’s Pussycat Theater porn chain, these good girls chased the bad guys around the globe as their touring schedule allowed, and later they were blasted into outer space.  The show featured performances by the band, and songs also accompanied chase scenes.

For the recording of songs for the show and a companion LP, attractive female singers took on the roles of cartoon band members: Cathy Dougher as Josie, Patrice Holloway as Valerie and future Charlie’s chick Cheryl Ladd as ditzy drummer Melody.  This was no rush job: The tunes are laden with clever hooks, sophisticated harmonies and unique instrumentation that belie the throwaway nature of bubblegum.  Versions of current hits like Bread’s “It Don’t Matter to Me” and the J5’s “I’ll Be There” pale in comparison to Pussycat originals such as  “Inside Outside Upside Down and “Hand Clapping Song,” but vocal parts and other nuances on the cover songs imply that the project was approached with time and care. 

Butch Cassidy strove for rock n roll credibility in a teenybopper world, as did David Cassidy, his progenitor, doppelganger—and, one can assume— inspiration.  Vehemently resentful of his teen idol image, the Partridge Family star’s bio is so full of “I was into Hendrix, man!”-type outbursts, it seems as if the has been suffers from some rare rock substrain of Tourette’s syndrome.  Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kids (1973) professed their rock roots through a sound heavier than a lead zeppelin (and other poppy HB fare) and lyrical signposts that marked their Saturday morning slot as a wimp-free zone.  During performances, the band customarily got beeped to go fight crime via Butch’s mod ring, so we don’t often hear more than bits and pieces—a wailing guitar here, an overly dramatized lyric there.  But this axe-to-grind is evident in songs like “Just a Rock n’ Roll Song,” where the hip-huggered heartthrob sings, “You can call it dumb, or bubblegum, but you can’t help singin’ along,” adding the taunt, “Have some!” before launching into a masturbatory ‘70s guitar solo.  Okay, okay, we believe you!

Characters—including drummer Harvey, voiced by Micky Dolenz—spit out rock references at the drop of a hat.  When the group rescued a vaguely exotic prince who was a fan, rock ‘n’ roll trivia weeded out an imposter: The fake didn’t flinch when Butch said he’d be playing the “Rolling Tones’” song “Yesterday” at a concert.  When the prince correctly identified who wrote “Woodstock” and “Alice’s Restaurant,” the true royal was revealed.  The moniker of the gang’s obligatory pooch: Elvis.  Off screen, musicians were hired to tour the country as the Butch Cassidy band, but no album was ever released.

Confucius say, “The family who sleuths together, grooves together.”  At least that’s the M.O. of the Amazing Chan and the Chan Clan.  Blatantly mocking China’s one-child policy, the show revolves around legendary private eye Charlie Chan, here a cartoon widower raising ten Chan children (which may explain why Mrs.  Chan is no longer with us).  The junior Chans are also crime solvers, a job that, naturally, requires them to rock!

By 1972, HB’s animation had become pretty rote, and costs were cut by recycling not only backgrounds, but plots, characters and movements as well.   A single animated band sequence serves as the “video” for every song the Chans performed, noticeable from its familiar procession of group shot cutting away to sister Suzie playing the tambourine, cut to guitar fingerboard, cut to hulkazoid brother Henry, who hunches over his drum kit like a giant Chinese crab.  As the younger, non-musical Chans watch their siblings perform, it appears as if someone is yanking a common chain to activate their synchronized movements.  In one episode the singer/ guitarist Stanley’s head actually disappears for a few frames. 

What HB didn’t skimp on, thankfully, was the Chan band’s music, which flourished under the direction of Monkees’ creator Don Kirshner and Ron Dante, fresh out of his previous gig for Mr. K as lead singer of the Archies.  While Jeff Barry wrote most Archies’ tunes, Dante handled music-writing duties for the Clan and sang Howard Greenfield’s (“Love Will Keep Us Together,” “Calendar Girl”) lyrics.   Songs incorporated the most pleasing elements of Dante’s previous chart-topping project: soaring vocal melodies, hand claps and the participation of Hugh McCracken, David Spinoza and other Archies’ session players.  Creeping bass lines suited the show’s mystery theme.  

“I tried to use a little different sound for my vocal and not make it a copy of the Archies’ sound,” Dante recalls.  “The Archies’ sound was a little more hushed, and this was more full-out strong singing; more pop than bubblegum.”  Greenfield’s lyrics generally centered on an espionage theme, often as a metaphor for love.  “I’ve Got the Goods on You” details a cheating partner, while “Whodunnit” seeks to find the culprit of the protagonist’s lovesickness.  “I Got My Eye on You” requires no further explanation.   Additionally, the Clan’s songs introduce the Ugly American to the Chinese cultural condition, and lyrics showed a cliche-free sophistication and sensitivity relatively unheard of in the stereotype-friendly cartoon world.   “I’m the Number One Son” relays the culture’s respect for elders and tradition, a new concept for a viewership comprised of the tail end of the egocentric Baby Boom:

When I was just a boy
My daddy said to me
You know the apple shouldn’t fall
Too far from the family tree
Countless generations hang their hopes on you
Ages of tradition depend on what you do

Okay, that’s a pretty heavy trip to lay on a kid, but it’s a responsibility countered with pride:

The first born of my father
It makes me feel so glad
Whenever people tell me
You’re just like your dad
Out of all the fathers
I’m glad that I got mine
Out of all my brothers
I’m the first in line

I’m the number one son of the number one man
The number one hope of my family clan
Gonna be like my dad any way that I can
I am his number one son

Dante described HB’s approach as fairly hands off, which explain the range of quality from cartoon to cartoon.  “Howie and I believed this was a quality project and took the time to write the best songs we could,” he said.  “ We had very little contact with the producers of the show.  All our direction came from what we wanted to project with the music…” Failing to realize their potential, HB never released the Chan Clan songs on vinyl.

Jabberjaw (1976) featured a rock—and I use that term loosely—band called the Neptunes, whose Jaws-era albatross was an oversized shark channeling the spirit of Curly from the Three Stooges.  Painful to watch and listen to, the proto-disco songs, thankfully, went away as soon as a caper diverted the group’s attention.

HB’s influence on bubblegum cartoons lives on today as hip animators who grew up with these shows unleash their satires and tributes.  In an episode of Ralph Bakshi’s ‘80s series The New Adventures of Mighty Mouse , characters found themselves trapped in an HB world, escaping each toon only to wind up in another.  As they fled a Scooby set, a bubblegum song dropped references to mood rings and other ‘70s kitsch.  Arguably, Saturday Night Live’s sole funny recurring segment is Robert Smigel’s animated offering The Four Ex-Presidents, where a retired Ford, Reagan, Carter and Bush rescue Bill Clinton from space aliens, communists and other unsavories.  Each skit culminates with the former commanders-in-chief rocking out in an Archies-style band. 

In 1995, The Cartoon Network—a division of Warner Brothers, as is Hanna-Barbera today—aired Saturday Morning Cartoons, with alternative bands performing show themes and songs from musical episodes.  In the station’s Cartoon Cartoon original programming, the Powerpuff Girls break out into “Love Makes the World Go ‘Round” a dose of pop ecstasy so cheery it has the capacity to restore color to a city drained of it by an evil mime.  A Dexter’s Lab segment sees the protagonist being chased by a scary, Keane-eyed waif to the tune of a bubbly pop song.  The station even made the insufferable Jabberjaw digestible via an interstitial video where the show’s characters come to life off a lunchbox and jam with punk band Pain.

ESSENTIAL EPISODES

Music played a central role in the aforementioned TV shows, but many a Hanna-Barbera classic featured a rock-n-roll episode, a failproof plot device enlisted about as often as the perfunctory “trip to Hawaii” or “robot goes haywire.” Usually, these episodes centered around an accidental dance craze or an unlikely subject becoming a pop star and living out the hellish machinations and experiences detailed in the Byrds’ “So You Want to be a Rock ‘n’ Roll Star?”  Must see ‘toon TV includes:

The Flintstones: Since the show was essentially a parody of modern American life, creators of the Flintstones never missed a chance to poke fun at pop culture’s disposable nature, and in particular, the star-making machine: Over its 1960-66 course, the series had six pop music-themed episodes.  In an early one, a Col. Tom caricature makes Fred over as Elvis impersonator Hi-Fi, a plan thwarted when fed-up Wilma convinces fickle teens that he’s actually a square.  During the post-payola/ pre-Beatle musical vacuum of 1960-63, the Flintstones managed to chronicle the most interesting genres in music: when singer Rock Roll (voiced by Hal Smith of Otis the Drunk fame) suffers an allergic reaction to pickled dodo eggs, Fred fills in to sing “The Bedrock Twitch,” a Twist-craze spoof.  Surfing is exploited in Surfin’ Fred, an episode where The Fantastic Baggys’ “Surfin’ Craze” plays on a radio and Jimmy Darrock croons “Wax Up Your Board.”

Once the Beatles were unleashed, their influence soon crept in to cartoonland.  When Pebbles and Bamm Bamm become famous with their song “ Let the Sunshine In”—no relation to Hair’s hippie anthem—the duo is discovered by Brit “Eppy Brianstone.” Extraterrestrial flavors-of-the-week the Way-Outs knock a group called the Beasties off the charts in another episode.  The Beau Brummels were an amazing electro-folk group in their own right, but a genius marketing ploy—their name—positioned them parasitically close to the Fab Four in record bins.  The band’s brief tenure under the pop spotlight was immortalized in an episode where the Beau Brummelstones performed their hit “Laugh, Laugh” on TV show Shinrock (Based on ABC’s Shindig!).  Episodes featuring a singing Ann Margrock and HBR recording artist Danny Hutton, who would later become one-third of Three Dog Night, are also worth mentioning. 

Magilla Gorilla: In one of his customary attempts to flee Peebles Pet Shop, Magilla spies a group of surfers en route to the beach and laments, “I wish I was a hotdog and could hang ten.” An attempt to return a  runaway board sets in motion a series of events that culminates in the primate shooting the pier.  Impressed by the hodad’s bravado, the clique performs the Martha & the Vandellas-sounding dance song “Makin With the Magilla” for their new king of surf.

The Hillbilly Bears: Incessant mutterer Pa Rugg, head of the bear clan and the spiritual father of King of the Hill’s indecipherable Boomhauer, gets discovered by a pair of slick record execs scouring “The Hill Country: Where the sound of today’s big tunes are born” for the Next Big Thing.  Pa appears on The Big Rockin’ Show, where he adds the occasional mumbled overlay and guitar twang to “Do the Bear” a Yeah- Yeah-Yeah tune performed by a trio of gals with long, back-combed hair and hip huggers. 

The Jetsons: Borrowing from Bye Bye Birdie, the Jet Screamer episode has Judy Jetson winning a date with the intergalactic pop star.  He performs “Eep Opp Ork Ah-Ah,” basically a rockabilly tune infused with “futuristic” keyboards and other electronic weirdo noises. 

Scooby-Doo: The gimmick for The New Scooby-Doo Movies (1972) franchise was its celebrity guests stars.  Musical walk-ons include Davy Jones, Mama Cass and Sonny & Cher.  Some sang, others didn’t.

Many thanks to Ronn Webb (http://w3.nai.net/~wingnut/Hanna_Barbera.html), Ron Dante, Michael Lloyd, Monica Bouldin (Warner Brothers), Laurie Goldberg (Cartoon Network), Johnny Bartlett, Kelly Kuvo and Anita Serwacki for their assistance.

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

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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.

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

Sunshine Pop by Chris Davidson

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.

Andy Kim “How’d We Ever Get This Way/ Rainbow Ride” CD (Collectors Choice)

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Not the Archies, but the Archies team (Jeff Barry and Andy Kim) at the peak of their musical creativity, with a two-fer reish of dreamboat vocalist/co-writer Kim’s first two albums for their indie Steed Records. After nearly a decade as producer and songwriter for hire for some of the most savvy guys in the business, Jeff Barry found himself with the muscle to bring projects to completion on his own. With these two albums, you’ve got the sound of pop’s finest craftsmen delighting in the formal structures of late sixties pop and forging two dozen lovely little moments. “HWEGTW” is more traditional Brill Building romanticism, with Barry’s trademark eclectic arrangements brimming with handclaps, steel drum and hushed, layered vocals. On “Rainbow Ride,” the pair are mildly psychedelicized, offering frenetic, organ-fueled rockers (“Please Be true”). Love You-era Stonesy rambles (“Nobody’s Ever Going Anywhere”) and with the gorgeous “Foundation of My Soul,” a reminder that, no matter what the hippie critics said, in the magical world of Kim and Barry, love, and pop, are not at all disposable.

The Dave Pell Singers – “Mah-Na-Mah-Na” CD (El)

On this dizzy 1969 release, West Coast jazzbo and his session cats work a breezy adult contemporary vibe, with giddy female vocal choirs manifesting the audio equivalent of a gaggle of happy stewardesses bearing fluffy pillows. The mellow, playful arrangements are applied to an appealing collection of bubblegum and pop-rock standards, including “Crystal Blue Persuasion,” the Sesame Street-popularized title track and “Sugar Sugar.” While the boy/girl singers are utterly out of their depth on the latter, it’s still a hoot to hear a dark narrative like “Ruby, Don’t Take Your Love To Town” handled so frothily. Silly, sweet mainstream fluff, presumably originally aimed at foxy grandpas, and still likely to please the comfy chair and fruity drink set. (Kim Cooper)

Remastered Archies & Crazy Elephant CDs

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Repertoire has remastered the bubblicious debut from Riverdale’s finest, and packaged it with the mono 45 versions of "Bang Shang A Lang" (just typing that makes me wanna shimmy) and "Truck Driver." They also have turned that hard-to-find Crazy Elephant album into a shiny silver disk, with nine bonus tracks. It’s pachadyrmistic.

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True Life Adventures of Count Chocula

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Some clever soul on Wikipedia had a little fun with the entry for Count Chocula cereal. We’re archiving it below, just in case the wiki-elves decide it isn’t fit for the long haul.

Count Chocula is a member of the line of monster-themed breakfast cereals produced by General Mills. It contains chocolate-flavoured corn cereal bits and marshmallows. Count Chocula is the cereal’s mascot, whose name is a pun on the vampire Count Dracula. Instead of craving blood like Dracula, Chocula craves Count Chocula breakfast cereal.

In 1971, the first two cereals in the line were introduced, the still-available Count Chocula and Franken Berry. Boo Berry, a pun on blueberry, was released two years later, in 1973, and Fruit Brute came in 1974, only to be discontinued in 1983. General Mills tried replacing Fruit Brute with Yummy Mummy in 1988, but that too had a short shelf life when it was ended in 1993. The latter two are no longer sold in retail stores.

Ernst Choukula was born the third child to Estonian landowers in the late autumn of 1873. His parents, Ivan and Brushken Choukula, were well-established traders of Baltic grain who– by the early twentieth century–had established a monopolistic hold on the export markets of Lithuania, Latvia and southern Finland. A clever child, Ernst advanced quickly through secondary schooling and, at the age of nineteen, was managing one of six Talinn-area farms, along with his father, and older brother, Grinsh. By twenty-four, he appeared in his first "barrelled cereal" endorsement, as the Choukula family debuted "Ernst Choukula’s Golden Wheat Muesli", a packaged mix that was intended for horses, mules, and the hospital ridden. Belarussian immigrant silo-tenders started cutting the product with vodka, creating a crude mush-paste they called "gruhll" or "gruell," and would eat the concoction each morning before work. The trend unwittingly spread, with alcohol being replaced by sheep–and then cow’s–milk, and the demand for the Choukula’s "cereal" reached as far south as Poland and as far west as the northern Jutland province of Denmark. It wasn’t long before the unmistakable image (the original packaging, a three gallon wooden vat which featured a burnt etching of a jubilant, overalled Ernst holding a large dog and grinning broadly) made a pop-cultural splash throughout the entirety of Europe and northern Africa. In fact, Tunisia’s "Carthagian Sand Crunch" was seen as the first imitation of the Choukula form; the aforementioned product was presented in broad leathern bags with the woven insignia of a nude tribesman holding a sword and a bunched stalk of oats. Sadly, this would neither be the first nor the tamest appropriation of Ernst’s iconic visage. Meanwhile, in the "textile paradise"-region of Schenectady / Elmira New York, General Peter Mills–a celebrated turret gunner in McKinley’s navy–was first beginning to mine America’s seemingly insatiable desire to consume food before high noon. The trend, initially known in the United States as "brekkfest" had first appeared in 1903, with Dominic Eggo’s invention of "wassled" or "waffled" bread, and really picked up steam throughout the teens and twenties, when eating in the morning was no longer deemed a sin by the Anglo-Catholic church. News of Choukula’s economic domination across the Atlantic fascinated and troubled Mills, who was eager for similar success. In 1927, while vacationing the Iberian peninsula, he first encountered three discarded barrels of "Duke Choukula’s Animal Supplement" (the name and design of the product had undergone several makeovers throughout the previous seven years, the most recent of which featured Ernst dressed in a cape and tiara, reflecting his family’s oft-disputed ties to Eurasian royalty). Immediately intrigued, Mills brought one with him on his boat ride back to the States, and spent the twenty-three day trip obsessively studying the packaging. In the spring of 1929, General Mills’ "Prince Chocula’s Morning Digestive" was picked up for distribution in three dozen pharmacies, grocery stands and agrarian carts throughout New York, Pennsylvania, New Jersey and northern Maryland. The public response was confused and angered at the recipe’s savory, clove-like sting; apparently a confusion over the name led many to believe the breakfast was made from chocolate, and by 1931 the formula had been updated to reflect the nation’s collective sweet tooth. In 1932, boxes were labeled simply "Count Chocula’s Chocolate Food" and Peter Mills was named Life Magazine’s "Humanitarian of the Year, 1933". Ernst Chocula died in a Ukrainian cabin, penniless and alone, having descended into a type of brain-madness.