Loud Family - Music: What Happened?

1964
by Scott Miller

"I'm Into Something Good" - Herman's Hermits
If you ever get your wish to magically travel time, the great thing about choosing to be popped into 1964 is that you won't feel compelled to cart yourself to Gettysburg or Bethlehem or Yankee Stadium, you just want to be in front of any T.V. when the Beatles go on Ed Sullivan—be in a room with a few of those clean-cut teens going nuts. Or just walk the streets and go to department stores. Any nothing record release has a sporting chance of being as fresh and likable as this bouncy Carole King/Gerry Goffin champ. Big pop culture fun, 1964—for about half a day until you notice everything is incredibly racist and there's no place to get away from everyone smoking.

"Iko Iko" - The Dixie Cups
The really snappy claves rhythm part and a fun little chant sound suspiciously like girls should be playing hopscotch to them as the preliminaries to gang warfare proceed in the background; am I reading too much into it?

"Secret Agent Man" - Johnny Rivers
I think I'm hearing people there in the studio whose job it is to make excited, partying noises. If so, not needed, dear music professionals. The James Bond spy-music tritone workout is varied spectacularly into a killer guitar riff, and with Mr. Rivers's AM D.J.-like delivery of "There's a man who lives a life of danger," let the juvenile kicks begin.

"You've Lost That Lovin' Feelin'" - The Righteous Brothers
There's a deserted-ballroom pathos to Bill Medley's almost weirdly deep voice and Phil Spector's cavernous production--probably his most important--that sets it apart from any average commiserating breakup song. As a kid, I didn't quite feel I had permission to plug into those feelings; ultimately I figured out it's relatively moving.

"The Crying Game" - Dave Berry
Boy George's version of this is just fine; I say that because if you try to get this on iTunes, as it currently stands you'll only be able to get a re-recorded version that, well, you should make sure you're okay with by trying out the little audition clip. But it seems like Geoff Stephens's gaudy yet ultimately inspired melodic shifts definitely belong somewhere on the radar.

"Goin' Out of My Head" - Little Anthony and the Imperials
The pinnacle of easy listening sophistication, "Goin' Out of My Head" overlays the ostensible mania of the lyric with so many just-clever-enough arrangement touches that it comes out unrecognizable as anything but the most elegant of excuses to linger for another gin and tonic in the rotating bar at the Top of the Mark.

"House of the Rising Sun" - The Animals
Preferably ripped from an original 45 with some wear on it, here is a record ripped from a 45-year-old frame of mind, with some wear on it. The Animals' modernized electric guitar and organ version of a much-recorded U.S. folk ballad worked the fading concept of it being possible to get drawn into a life wild enough to entail "ruin" in the sense of moral disrepute. Eric Burdon was an interesting guy; I've always wanted to know the story behind the progression (of other moral-conundrum rock?) from "Sky Pilot" to "Spill the Wine" and the band War.

"Where Did Our Love Go" - The Supremes
The three little descending half-steps going to the minor on "please don't leave me" are one of 1964's several landmark musical phrases. Interesting how no one thought so at the time; the Supremes apparently fought Holland/Dozier/Holland hard to keep from being forced to sing what they felt was a piece of fluff. Diana Ross's vocal does make the project, and let's of course salute the cracked brilliance of the glockenspiel and stomping feet production.

"Time Is On My Side" - The Rolling Stones
I knew this as the first song on Hot Rocks, so for that reason it got a lot of air time in my life. The rhythm section is surprisingly not there, but the blues guitar soling is very decent, and the outstanding point to note here is Jagger delivering possibly the most convincing talk-singing middle eight ever.

"Gloria" - Them
When a band needs a song to play and there's no time to learn it, "Gloria" always comes to mind. It's a sturdy little composition and inaugurated a long period of Van Morrison's remarkable ability to command mainstream success. (Oops, had this in '65; I'm working on that much of my fallibility, sticklers, I really am).

"Baby I Need Your Loving" - The Four Tops
For the oo-oo run alone, this deserves quite a bit of praise; ditto for the way the verse modulates up to the line "Baby, I need your loving" before the chorus proper: what a great idea. I would have tried to talk them out of that operatic backing vocal you really hear on "need," technically impressive though it be; it's too much evening dress. I'd use a closer harmony and a fat, arpeggiating bridge-pickup guitar under that. What?—I'm serious!

"Oh, Pretty Woman" - Roy Orbison
Like so many 1964 events, that guitar that just keeps climbing the ladder of thirds strikes me as vastly influential. My hands just want to do that when I play, and I think this song started the impulse. I suspect it greatly influenced Paul and George. Roy's vocals have an otherworldly beauty, but are just playful enough, with the growl and all, to stay one-of-us. That snare-on-one part at the end where She comes walking back gives me a thrill to this day.

"A Summer Song" - Chad and Jeremy
The soft-rock return of the 2000s really only underscores how far gone is the possibility of another "Summer Song." The current aesthetic tracks back to 1970 in general, and a little further in the case of post-surf Beach Boys, but today's ears wouldn't know how to take something quite this sing-songy—which I can't help but think is a loss worth grieving. "Wish you didn't have to go, no no no no," with the little horn tag, is lovely in a way that is untranslatable to the Arcade Fire universe; maybe Belle and Sebastian carry the torch for some fractional part—at the cost of a "twee if you like twee" qualification.

"The Shoop Shoop Song (It's In His Kiss)" - Betty Everett
I don't know anything about the producer or the band, but jeez, they are hot, and tight; nearly Tito-Puente-worthy. Betty's singing is incredible, too—expressive, yet 100% melodic and pitch-perfect. One of the punchiest and most satisfying teen romance singles ever.

"The Times They Are A-Changin'" - Bob Dylan
It's a simple folk number—Bob wasn't straying far from Woodie Guthrie in these days—but he's starting to vary the chords just enough that you can hear phantom musical emotion welling up in the transitions. He's galloping a little ahead of himself in the somewhat ungainly lyrics. The admonition to get ready and get out of the way is really an idle threat that doesn't even adequately recommend a way to capitulate to it—but it probably let some people indifferent to the oppression of the draft and of social prejudices know that indifference was going away as an option.

"My Girl" - The Temptations
This Smokey Robinson gem was written for new singer David Ruffin, rocketing the already ascendant Temptations to lasting stardom. Slightly corny around "I've got so much honey the bees envy me," the chorus of "I guess you say/What could make me feel this way?" is a timeless classic.

"The Pink Panther Theme" - Henry Mancini
Spy-music-mania continues with one of the most memorable jazz—almost big band—runs ever. It was a joy to be forced to play this in junior high stage band, when not much else was.

"Don't Worry Baby" - The Beach Boys
Ah, that feeling when you've bragged about how fast your car is, and someone's called you on it, and now you have to race in the street tomorrow. You're tense, but you can't back down. Thankfully, a whisper from your girl relaxes you into doing it right. There's such a slow shaking of the head to be done in response to this kind of early, completely gorgeous Beach Boys music, wrought in the solemn service of dubiously authentic teen culture ceremony. "She makes me come alive"; oh, yes, and that's because "She makes me want to drive."

"Downtown" - Petula Clark
Support for this song seems to have eroded since the day, but I won't budge. Trying to shake off depression by going somewhere crowded and stimulating can be a bit desperate and uncertain to help, but it's better than nothing. The give-it-a-shot enthusiasm of tarting up dubious sounding diversions with a full orchestra arrangement and one of the century's canonical lead sheets is a fine enough New Deal strategy for me.

"She's Not There" - The Zombies
Colin Blunstone could be the most generally underappreciated singer, among singers that all other singers know is great. There's some sort of cool breathiness that still achieves complete control of the envelope. And when I get going on playing a keyboard part myself to the point where it's no longer quite completely frail, Rod Argent is typically the person my hands feel like they're striving to imitate. Everyone knows "She's Not There" is a classic; nowadays Odessey and Oracle is catching up.

"You Really Got Me" - The Kinks
The first time I was intensely in love, I woke up with this song in my head, and it was all clear.

"Afro Blue" - John Coltrane
One of my favorite Coltrane pieces, this is a live recording, and the only release I know of. Besides having a moody yet infectiously hummable theme, it's interesting in the way it transitions from the theme to the soloing in sort of a gradual way—and the soloing is a first class Tyner and Jones night out, too.

"If I Fell" - The Beatles
At the start of 1964, Lennon was on fire. A young lion of a leader, he had pushed pins in the war room and triumphed utterly. By the end of the year, it was somewhat beaten out of him, and coping strategies—no whit less conducive to creativity—took over in 1965. "If I Fell" remains heart-melting throughout its charting of a fearless, ruthlessly original musical course. How about beginning with the unrepeated "verse" (in the old school sense) which ramps to the drum intro with, "And I found that love was more than just holding hands"? What key is that even in? How does he make that transition work? The lyrics are not absolutely top drawer, but they are compelling and special. Significantly, he lets himself be not quite the good guy. "I hope you see that I would love to love you/And that she will cry when she learns we are two." Woah. He's going to dump his girl for "you," and he wants to make sure your commitment is worth the devastation to be inflicted on her. That's a lot of awareness; and he's not holding himself up as admirable. The music feeds an incredible, aching sweetness to this moment; the modulation up to "I couldn't stand the pain" is another mind-blowing shift, which resolves just as miraculously. The final slightly hackneyed ascent only reminds you that you're coming down to earth after an amazing flight.