Category Archives: Reissue

Elvis Presley: Girls! Girls! Girls!

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One hit, some passable tunes and several clunkers

There are a number of commonly held misconceptions about Elvis Presley’s film career: Elvis couldn’t act, his movies were all throwaways, and the soundtracks were populated entirely with substandard material. But key films in the King’s catalog show that he could indeed act, if called upon, there are several high-quality dramatic and musical films in Elvis’ oeuvre, alongside many good lightweight romantic musical comedies, and his soundtracks are laced with hits and terrific albums sides. To measure the highpoints of Elvis’ soundtrack catalog by virtue of the low points (of which there are admittedly many) is to miss out on a valuable dimension of Presley’s musical career.

1962’s Girls! Girls! Girls! was Elvis’ eleventh film, the first of three with “Girls” in the title, and the only in his filmography to be nominated for an award (a Golden Globe for Best Musical, losing to The Music Man). Like most of Elvis’ soundtracks, this one was recorded in Hollywood with a mix of West Coast studio players (including legendary Wrecking Crew drummer Hal Blaine) and Elvis regulars (including Scotty Moore, D.J. Fontana, and the Jordanaires). The catchy title track was written by Leiber and Stoller and was previously a hit for the Coasters. Sped up and rearranged into smoother pop, it still has the Coasters’ characteristic bounce and a fine sax solo from Bobby Keys. The album’s standout is Otis Blackwell’s “Return to Sender,” which was also the soundtrack’s only hit, peaking at #2 on the Billboard chart and hitting #1 on Cashbox.

The bulk of the album features good-if-not-great rock ‘n’ roll numbers and several forgettable ballads. The band cooks and The Jordanaires add zing to “I Don’t Wanna Be Tied,” and “Thanks to the Rolling Sea” makes up for mediocre lyrics with the energy of seafaring folk music. The otherwise bland “We’ll Be Together” is spiced with Spanish-style guitar  and backing vocals from the Amigos, but the faux-Japanese “Earth Boy” can’t be saved. Others, like “Because of Love” sound as if they were hurriedly written on the back of an envelope with a rhyming dictionary close at hand. The album closes with an Otis Blackwell tune, “We’re Coming in Loaded,” that’s more atmosphere than substance, but at least it rocks.

By 1962 Elvis movies were quickly becoming an assembly line of uninventive plots and forgettable music. The dispensability of Elvis’ movie music is highlighted by the parallel quality of his regular material, which in 1962 included “Good Luck Charm” and “She’s Not You.” Elvis rose to the occasion when given quality material, and could make magic happen with mediocre songs, but even the King couldn’t turn lead into gold. Sony’s reissue features a four-panel booklet, no bonus tracks, and no liner notes discussing the music or its making. The 29-minute running time suggests the earlier import two-fer or Follow That Dream’s collector’s edition might be more compelling to Elvis diehards. Still, the budget price and remastered sound make this reissue quite attractive. [©2010 hyperbolium dot com]

Elvis Presley: G.I. Blues

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A few essential tunes and some soundtrack dregs

There are a number of commonly held misconceptions about Elvis Presley’s film career: Elvis couldn’t act, his movies were all throwaways, and the soundtracks were populated entirely with substandard material. But key films in the King’s catalog show that he could indeed act, if called upon, there are several high-quality dramatic and musical films in Elvis’ oeuvre, alongside many good lightweight romantic musical comedies, and his soundtracks are laced with hits and terrific albums sides. To measure the highpoints of Elvis’ soundtrack catalog by virtue of the low points (of which there are admittedly many) is to miss out on a valuable dimension of Presley’s musical career.

1960’s G.I. Blues was Elvis’ fifth film and, unsurprisingly given the film’s topic, the first feature made after his discharge from the army. Like many of his soundtracks, this set includes several eminently forgettable pop songs, many from the pen of Sid Wayne. Elvis still manages to charm, even when asked to rhyme “thrillable” and “syllable” on “What’s She Really Like.” The driving train rhythm and twangy guitar solo underlying “Frankfort Special” suggest Elvis’ early work at Sun, but the lyric quickly reveals itself as only capable of narrating the plot. “Shoppin’ Around” also has a great rock ‘n’ roll beat and weak lyrics, and the lullaby “Big Boots” has a winning vocal, but similarly vacuous words. Better is the ‘40s-styled jazz melody and the Jordanaires close harmonies on Sid Tepper’s title song.

The album’s highlight is Elvis sweet and delicate vocal on “Wooden Heart.” Based on the folk song “Muß i’ denn zum Städtele hinaus,” the lyrics retain several of the original German lines, and released in the UK it rose to #1. In the U.S. it wasn’t released until four years later, and then as a B-side, missing its chart opportunity. Interestingly, Tom Petty covered the tune on the Playback box set, revealing in the liner notes that G.I. Blues was “the first album I ever owned.” The march-tempo “Didja’ Ever” is the film’s best musical number, with the sort of stagey lyric that would play well on the boards, and the album’s sleepers are the terrific ballads  “Pocketful of Rainbows” and “Doin’ the Best I Can.”

Like all of Presley’s soundtracks, Elvis rose to the occasion when presented with quality material, and managed to sprinkle some of his artistic magic on the rest. This one has Elvis regulars Scotty Moore, D.J. Fontana and the Jordanaires sitting in with the studio players. Sony’s reissue features a four-panel booklet, no bonus tracks, and no liner notes discussing the music or its making. The 27-minute running time suggests the bonus track laden import reissue might be more compelling to Elvis diehards. Still, the budget price and remastered sound make this edition very attractive. [©2010 hyperbolium dot com]

Frank Sinatra: Strangers in the Night

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Sinatra climbs past the Beatles to the top of the heap

By 1966 Frank Sinatra had ridden the roller coaster of artistic and commercial success to several high points, maintaining an unmatched profile of fame through radio, live performance, recording, television and film. He’d broken through as a swing-era big band singer, wowed bobby-soxers with his solo crooning, and reinvented himself (with the help of legendary arrangers such as Nelson Riddle) as a sophisticated interpreter of standards, a deep-feeling balladeer, and a ring-a-ding-ding hipster. In the last half of the 1950s he unleashed a string of iconic albums that showed his thorough mastery of down-tempo ballads, lush orchestration and snappy up-tempo romps, and in 1961 he literally became the chairman of the board, as he founded the Reprise record label.

Sinatra’s Reprise albums of the early 1960s continued to sell well, but his action on the single’s chart had been curtailed by pop music’s skew to a younger audience, the arrival of the Beatles and the musical revolution that followed in their wake. Sinatra had scored recent Top-40 singles (and a chart-topper on the adult contemporary chart with “It Was a Very Good Year” earlier in ‘66), but his last major success on the pop hit parade remained 1958’s “Witchcraft.” As had been the case when the big band era closed, and again as Sinatra’s solo career wound down in the early 1950s, many thought that Sinatra had finally estranged himself from broad popular acclaim. But someone as talented and as artistically resilient as Sinatra couldn’t be counted out so easily.

The genesis of his mid-60s resurgence was the album’s title track, combining a memorable Bert Kaempfert melody (from the film A Man Could Get Killed) with lyrics by Charles Singleton and Eddie Snyder. The other key ingredient was producer Jimmy Bowen. Bowen had started out as a contemporary of ‘50s rock singer Buddy Knox, but edged his way into production as his singing career faltered. By the mid-60s he was working with all three members of the Rat Pack, and brought “Strangers in the Night” to Sinatra. Ken Barnes’ liner notes recall the urgent circumstances under which the single was recorded and distributed to radio, and how it scooped two contemporary versions to become Sinatra’s first pop chart topper. All of this was accomplished by a fifty-year-old Sinatra, who iced the cake by knocking the Beatles’ “Paperback Writer” from the top slot.

With the single winding its way to #1 – it took three months to reach the top – Sinatra returned to the studio with his regular producer, Sonny Burke, to record a supporting album. The sessions reunited Sinatra with Nelson Riddle, who’d helped Sinatra re-launch his career once before with 1954’s Songs for Young Lovers and the brassy swing of 1956’s Songs for Swingin’ Lovers! Here he and Sinatra split their attention between reanimating songs of the 1920s and 1930s, and finding something for Sinatra to say with a few contemporary numbers. In addition to the title track, Sinatra turned Johnny Mercer’s “Summer Wind” into an easy listening favorite, picked up Lerner and Lane’s “On a Clear Day” from the then contemporary Broadway show, and wrestled unsuccessfully with a pair of Tony Hatch tunes, “Call Me” and “Downtown.”

The pop tunes are given the full Riddle treatment, including a modern and soulful organ, but Sinatra isn’t impressed by either, and tosses off “Downtown” as a sop to the then-modern pop tastes. Riddle’s arrangements are typically energetic throughout, but his sublime take on “Summer Wind” inspires Sinatra’s most effortless and artful vocal in this set. Sinatra sings the older songs with a nod to their period origins, but also a free-swinging verve that brings them up-to-date. As an album this ends up schizophrenic as Sinatra moves through Bowen’s pop edgings, Riddle’s punchy charts and Hatch’s ill-fitting pop songs. The original album ends with a frenetic arrangement of “The Most Beautiful Girl in the World” which brought down the curtain. Concord’s reissue adds three bonus tracks: live takes of “Strangers in the Night” and “All or Nothing at All” that demonstrate Sinatra’s 1980s stage presence, and a previously unreleased first take of “Yes Sir, That’s My Baby” that doesn’t vary greatly from the master recording.

Though this LP was one of Sinatra’s most popular, his voice was in fine form and Nelson Riddle’s arrangements add some pizzazz, it wasn’t one of his truly great artistic achievements. The hit singles are memorable and essential elements of the Sinatra catalog, but the album cuts don’t match up with his earlier pioneering work. Unlike his Capitol albums of the 1950s, Sinatra wasn’t pushing forward anymore; he was looking back to earlier successes and looking sideways at popular music forms that didn’t excite him. This is certainly worth hearing, but if you’re just starting to build a collection of Sinatra albums, you’re better off starting with his key works of 1954-1961. [©2010 hyperbolium dot com]

B.J. Thomas: Most of All / Billy Joe Thomas

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Thomas parts ways with Chips Moman and Memphis

B.J. Thomas is often remembered for his biggest pop hits, “I’m So Lonesome I Could Cry,” “Hooked on a Feeling,” “Raindrops Keep Falling on My Head” and “(Hey Won’t You Play) Another Somebody Done Somebody Wrong Song.” But like many artists whose careers were longer than their pop chart success, there’s a lot more to Thomas’ catalog than these four songs. In addition to 1980s success on the country charts, Thomas recorded albums throughout the mid-60s and 70s that turned up lower-charting hit singles and terrific album sides. Collectors’ Choice has gathered Thomas’ first eight solo albums for Scepter as a series of four two-fers, starting with his 1966 label debut, I’m So Lonesome I Could Cry, and concluding with 1971’s Billy Joe Thomas.

After out-of-the-gate success with Huey Meaux in Texas, four albums and a hit singles with Chips Moman in Memphis, and a Los Angeles-based chart-topper with Burt Bacharach and Hal David, by the start of the 1970s B.J. Thomas was once again on the move. His 1970 release Most of All includes a few finished tracks recorded with Moman at American Studios, but also includes a stop in Atlanta and finally settles in at Doraville, Alabama’s Studio One. Here Thomas connected with producer Buddy Buie and the studio players who would form the Atlanta Rhythm Section. This new setting produced two hits, “Most of All” and “No Love at All,” both Top 40 pop and Top 5 adult contemporary. The former was written by Buie, the latter reunited Thomas with songwriter Wayne Carson, suggesting the track might have been started in Memphis.

Buie’s instrumentation wasn’t terrifically different than Moman’s, featuring guitars, bass and drums augmented by strings and horns. But Buie’s productions are smoother and not as deep in the soul-funk pocket as had been laid down in Memphis. Thomas responded by modulating his vocals with longer notes that edge into crooning. The material follows the familiar course of a few originals and cover songs that fit Thomas snugly enough to leave little leaving room for musical reinvention; James Taylor’s early “Rainy Day Man,” The Carpenters’ “Close to You,” and Brook Benton’s “Rainy Night in Georgia,” don’t add much to the originals. Neither does a cover of Mann & Weil’s controversial song of interracial romance, “Brown Eyed Woman,” which had scored on the coasts for Bill Medley.

The following year Thomas made another leap, recording in New York City, Los Angeles and Nashville, with Steve Tyrell and Al Gorgoni producing Billy Joe Thomas. Thomas continued to chart higher on the adult contemporary chart than the pop list, topping the former with the gorgeous “Rock ‘n’ Roll Lullaby.” The single’s Beach Boys-styled backing vocals lift Thomas as he stretches into falsetto and adds a new style to his catalog. Paul Williams’ “That’s What Friends Are For” (not to be confused with Burt Bacharach’s similarly titled song that was a hit for Dionne Warwick) revisits the Billy Joel inflections Thomas brought to 1968’s “Mr. Businessman,” and “Happier Than the Morning Sun” is given a sunnier, lighter arrangement than Stevie Wonder’s later recording.

For this last album on Scepter, Tyrell engaged the songs’ writers to perform, a plan that paralleled the emergence of singer-songwriters as a marketable quantity. Stevie Wonder, Carole King, Jimmy Webb and Paul Williams played and sang on their tunes, and guests included Duane Eddy, Darlene Love and Dave Somerville of ‘50s vocal group, The Diamonds. Tyrell and Gorgoni created the most consistent album to that point in Thomas’ career, seamlessly knitting together pop, blues and soul, while picking up songs from favorite sources Wayne Carson and Mark James alongside the famous singer-songwriters. Thomas shows himself ready for serious lyrics, including the terrific call-to-action “We Have Got to Get Our Ship Together” and John Sebastian’s “The Stories We Can Tell.” Pete Drake’s pedal steel on the latter all but pointed the way to Thomas’ future on the country charts.

Collectors’ Choice adds three bonus tracks to the original albums: a single and two B-sides of which the gospel “Mighty Clouds of Joy” makes the most lasting impression. All tracks are stereo, and the set’s 8-page booklet includes liner notes by Mike Ragogna and full-panel reproductions of the album covers. These albums find Thomas searching for direction after leaving Memphis and finding new confidence in New York City. He’d hook up with Paramount the following year, score an across-the-board success with “(Hey Won’t You Play) Another Somebody Done Somebody Wrong Song” with ABC in 1975, and top the country charts in the mid-80s, leaving Billy Joe Thomas to stand as a fitting end to his run with Sceptor. [©2010 hyperbolium dot com]

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B.J. Thomas: Raindrops Keep Fallin’ on My Head / Everybody’s Out of Town

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Thomas tops the charts with Bacharach and David

B.J. Thomas is often remembered for his biggest pop hits, “I’m So Lonesome I Could Cry,” “Hooked on a Feeling,” “Raindrops Keep Falling on My Head” and “(Hey Won’t You Play) Another Somebody Done Somebody Wrong Song.” But like many artists whose careers were longer than their pop chart success, there’s a lot more to Thomas’ catalog than these four songs. In addition to 1980s success on the country charts, Thomas recorded albums throughout the mid-60s and 70s that turned up lower-charting hit singles and terrific album sides. Collectors’ Choice has gathered Thomas’ first eight solo albums for Scepter as a series of four two-fers, starting with his 1966 label debut, I’m So Lonesome I Could Cry, and concluding with 1971’s Billy Joe Thomas.

By the time Raindrops Keep Fallin’ on My Head was released in 1969 Thomas had already recorded two Top-10 hits (“I’m So Lonesome I Could Cry” and “Hooked on a Feeling”) and a handful of lower-charting sides. But one hit was a Hank Williams cover and the other subsequently rehomed as a #1 hit for Blue Swede, it was this album’s Bacharach-David title tune that became Thomas’ long-term calling card. The Bacharach-David produced “Raindrops” is a departure in sound from the records Thomas had been making with Chips Moman in Memphis. The ukulele that opens the arrangement immediately announces something different, and Thomas’ delivery is softened along with horns that are Los Angeles smooth rather than Memphis punchy. Two other Bacharach-David productions, “Little Green Apples” and “This Guy’s in Love With You” feature similarly sophisticated pop arrangements.

The album has three tracks produced by Chips Moman, including a cover of Mark James’ “Suspicious Minds.” Moman reused Elvis’ backing track, but remixed in a way that turns the King into a ghost; the arrangement’s extended vocal coda is a great addition. Also good is a soulful take on Jimmy Webb’s “Do What You Gotta Do,” and the Mark James original “Mr. Mailman.” Four tracks produced by Stan Green and Scepter’s A&R head Steve Tyrell fill out the song list, highlighted by a take on “The Greatest Love” that’s musical but too brash to capture the vulnerability of Joe South’s original or Aaron Neville’s cover. The patchwork of three production teams makes this album feel more constructed than Thomas’ two previous outings. There are terrific individual tracks here, but the different album sections feel stitched together and leave Thomas searching for a signature identity.

Following a greatest hits album in early 1970, Thomas returned with Everybody’s Out of Town. The commercial success of “Raindrops Keep Falling on My Head” carried over, as he launched two more singles onto the Top 40 and found great success on the adult contemporary chart, topping it with “I Just Can’t Help Believing.” Bacharach and David returned to produce a pair of tracks, but their strings, horns and old-timey piano stick out like sore thumbs in sequence with Chip Moman’s Memphis sound. Mark James and Wayne Carson once again contributed songs, and Thomas picked covers that fit well, even if he didn’t find anything revelatory to say with “Everybody’s Talkin’” or “What Does it Take.” Paul Simon’s “Bridge Over Troubled Water” was a great pick for the American Studios sound and Thomas sings it with soul.

Collectors’ Choice adds five bonus tracks: two singles, a greatest hits album track and two previously unreleased sides. Best among these is the previously unissued country arrangement of Barry Mann and Cynthia Weil’s “There’s No Holding You” and a horn- and organ-filled take on Little Richard’s “The Girl Can’t Help It.” This album is a more consistent effort than the previous Raindrops Keep Fallin’ on My Head, but Thomas no longer seemed to be progressing under Moman’s direction. Like the preceding album the cover songs and some of the originals feel like album filler. All tracks are stereo, and the set’s 8-page booklet includes liner notes by Mike Ragogna and full-panel reproductions of the album covers. These first-time-on-CD albums offer some of Thomas’ biggest hits, supplemented by fine album tracks and filler. [©2010 hyperbolium dot com]

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B.J. Thomas: On My Way / Young and in Love

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Texas pop hit-maker finds his soul in Memphis

B.J. Thomas is often remembered for his biggest pop hits, “I’m So Lonesome I Could Cry,” “Hooked on a Feeling,” “Raindrops Keep Falling on My Head” and “(Hey Won’t You Play) Another Somebody Done Somebody Wrong Song.” But like many artists whose careers were longer than their pop chart success, there’s a lot more to Thomas’ catalog than these four songs. In addition to 1980s success on the country charts, Thomas recorded albums throughout the mid-60s and 70s that turned up lower-charting hit singles and terrific album sides. Collectors’ Choice has gathered Thomas’ first eight solo albums for Scepter as a series of four two-fers, starting with his 1966 label debut, I’m So Lonesome I Could Cry, and concluding with 1971’s Billy Joe Thomas.

After his 1966 breakthrough with a slow, pop-soul cover of Hank Williams’ “I’m So Lonesome I Could Cry,” Thomas’ subsequent singles charted lower and lower, dropping him out of the Top 40 for the latter half of 1966 and all of 1967. He returned in 1968 with On My Way and climbed back to #28 with the mid-tempo love song “The Eyes of a New York Woman.” Thomas was singing in a lower register, sounding remarkably like the Box Tops’ Alex Chilton; the single’s electric sitar even recalls the Box Tops’ “Cry Like a Baby.” That same sitar shines even more brightly opening the album’s breakout hit, “Hooked on a Feeling.” This Mark James penned number subsequently scored a European hit for Jonathan King and a U.S. #1 in 1974 for Blue Swede. King added (and Blue Swede copied) an “ooga chaka” chant and reggae rhythm that give the song a harder edge than Thomas original.

By the time Thomas recorded this pair of albums he’d relocated from Texas to Memphis where he landed at Chips Moman’s American Studio, meeting up with the studuio’s crack band and realizing crisper recordings and more commercially refined arrangements. More importantly, his previous source of original songs, Mark Charron, was replaced by a range of writers that included Ray Stevens, Wayne Carson (who wrote “Soul Deep” and “The Letter” for the Box Tops), Spooner Oldham, Ashford & Simpson, and Mark James (who wrote both singles, and would later write “Suspicious Minds” for Elvis to cut in the very same Memphis studio). Thomas continued to tread a line between pop, country, blues and soul, but the first and last resonated most deeply in his new Memphis setting.

As on his previous albums, Thomas turned a country classic to soul, this time with Ferlin Husky’s mid-50s hit, “Gone.” Since the original was already a ballad, Thomas and crew could only slow it so much and instead focused on a then-contemporary arrangement of reverb and fuzz guitar, strings, deep bass and soulful organ; it all ends up sounding a bit funereal. Better are horn-and-string covers of Jim Reeves’ “Four Walls” and the Platters’ “Smoke Gets in Your Eyes,” each giving Thomas a chance to really emote. Thomas’ material was notably more mature than his earlier work and reaches to social commentary (and Billy Joel-like stridency) with “Mr. Businessman” and philosophical introspection on “I’ve Been Down This Road Before.” The singer, songs, studio and musicians really fit together nicely for these sessions, but the dependency on covers that fail to expand on the originals keeps this album from being a deeper artistic statement.

1969’s Young and in Love followed the template of its predecessor, combining tunes from Mark James with selections from songwriting legends (Paul Williams, Jimmy Webb, Neil Diamond), and a country hit turned to soul with a cover of Henson Cargill’s “Skip a Rope.” Unlike Thomas’ previous (and next) album, the original material here was good, but failed to burn up the charts: the pop-soul “Pass the Apple Eve” barely made the Top 100, and the ballad “It’s Only Love” only cracked the adult contemporary Top 40. The covers are professional, but again not always artistically definitive; the Carpenters wrenched much more out of “Hurting Each Other” a few years later, and “Solitary Man” didn’t improve on Neil Diamond’s original. Thomas’ connection with the Box Tops is renewed through a cover of Spooner Oldham & Dan Penn’s “I Pray for Rain,” which Chilton and company had recorded a few years earlier.

Chips Moman’s studio and players continue to provide superb accompaniment, furthering Thomas development as a soul singer. The electric sitar wears thin by album’s end, but for the arrangements mostly have a timeless Memphis sound. Collectors’ Choice adds six bonus tracks: a single, three B-sides and two previously unreleased sides. Top of the heap is a cover of Conway Twitty’s (and Wanda Jackson’s) “I May Never Get to Heaven” featuring superb guitar from Reggie Young. Also tasty is a cover of Luther Dixon’s blue “Human” and the airy Mark James waltz “Distant Carolina.” Creepiest is “You Don’t Love Me Anymore,” ending with a frenetic vocal and a railroad train (complete with sound effects) bearing down on the dreaming protagonist. All tracks are stereo except 22, and “I Saw Pity in the Face of a Friend” features some odd panning and phasing. The set’s 8-page booklet includes liner notes by Mike Ragogna and full-panel reproductions of the album covers. These first-time-on-CD albums offer a great picture of Thomas’ emergence as a soul singer. [©2010 hyperbolium dot com]

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B.J. Thomas: I’m So Lonesome I Could Cry / Tomorrow Never Comes

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Future chart-topper warms up with country, soul and blues

B.J. Thomas is often remembered for his biggest pop hits, “I’m So Lonesome I Could Cry,” “Hooked on a Feeling,” “Raindrops Keep Falling on My Head” and “(Hey Won’t You Play) Another Somebody Done Somebody Wrong Song.” But like many artists whose careers were longer than their pop chart success, there’s a lot more to Thomas’ catalog than these four songs. In addition to 1980s success on the country charts, Thomas recorded albums throughout the mid-60s and 70s that turned up lower-charting hit singles and terrific album sides. Collectors’ Choice has gathered Thomas’ first eight solo albums for Scepter as a series of four two-fers, starting with his 1966 label debut, I’m So Lonesome I Could Cry, and concluding with 1971’s Billy Joe Thomas.

1966’s I’m So Lonesome I Could Cry reprised the title song with which Thomas reached #8 on the charts as the lead singer of the Houston-based Triumphs. Thomas re-imagines Hank Williams’ country classic as pop-soul with slow, measured vocals underlined by a mournful organ, low bass and drums lightly counting out the waltz time. A falling horn line at the end of each verse adds some Stax flavor, and the song’s heartbreak is brought to a head in the anguished wails with which Thomas takes the song out. He takes Williams’ “There’ll Be No Teardrops Tonight” similarly down-tempo, with a harpsichord in place of organ, a guitar carrying the blues and Jordanaires-styled backing vocals adding their moan.

Thomas proved himself a fetching blue-soul singer on the jukebox themed “The Titles Tell” and adds punch to a cover of “Midnight Hour” with horns, handclaps and female backing singers. The album spun off a minor hit in Mark Charron’s sentimental original “Mama,” and his other titles, though a bit maudlin in tearjerkers like “I Wonder” and “Bring Back the Time,” are good vehicles for Thomas. There’s frat-rock energy in “Wendy,” a pre-Beatles boy-singer pop melody in “Terri,” and a Texicali-tinge to “Maria.” Thomas also sang covers of Tom Jones’ “It’s Not Unusual” and Freddie Scott’s “Hey Girl,” mostly following the originals but adding a distinctive touch with his vocal tone.

Thomas followed up the same year with the album Tomorrow Never Comes. The track list once again includes a slow, soulful pass at a country legend’s song, this time building Ernest Tubb’s “Tomorrow Never Comes” to a show-stopping crescendo. Mark Charron once again supplies most of the originals, this time writing about the supercharged emotions of teenagers and young adults. The little known “Plain Jain” is the story of a lonely girl who kills herself after falling for a prank prom invitation; though only charting to #129, it’s a worthy entry in the death-song genre. Charron captures the end-of-the-world melodrama of found love, broken hearts, friendlessness, failure and occasional moments of self realization, youthful optimism and redemption.

Thomas’ style was all over the map at these early points in his career, crooning, rocking and emoting atop pop, soul, blues and country arrangements of guitar, bass, drums, strings and horns. Those horns come to the fore on a rousing cover of Timmy Shaw’s “Gonna Send You Back to Georgia,” and the album closes with the fine, bluesy frat-rocker, “Candy Baby.” Collectors’ Choice adds two bonus B-sides, the countrypolitan kiss-off “Your Tears Leave Me Cold” and a torchy cover of Robert Thibodeux’s “I’m Not a Fool Anymore.” All tracks are stereo except 1, 2, 8, 21 and 24, and the set’s 8-page booklet includes liner notes by Mike Ragogna and full-panel reproductions of the album covers. Making their first appearances on CD, these are two great places to start an appreciation of Thomas that extends deeper than his well-known hits. [©2010 hyperbolium dot com]

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Bobby Vinton: The Best Of

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Excellent collection of ‘60s crooner’s top hits

A wave of attractive, talented male singers sprouted in the lull between Elvis’ induction into the army and the Beatles arrival on U.S. shores. Among them, Bobby Vinton had one of the prettiest voices, an instrument with which he carved out a niche of pop songs that didn’t even feint towards rock ‘n’ roll. While Bobby Vee, Fabian, Bobby Rydell, Frankie Avalon and others were non-threatening hit-makers who barely hinted at the darker side of ‘50s rockers, Vinton looked further back to earlier, pre-rock pop. His lushly orchestrated recordings were more apiece with the pre-rock ‘n’ roll hit parade than with the amalgam of blues, R&B, country and gospel that in 1963 might have seemed like a commercial fad that was then in repose or decline.

Vinton made no pretension to following in the footsteps of rock ‘n’ roll, as his ballads were winsome and filled with treacle and tears. What made the songs work, and surprisingly still keeps them emotionally effective, is the sweetness with which Vinton indulges the songs’ idealized heartaches. Romantic totems of roses, childhood sweethearts, high school romances, unrequited love and broken hearts are all magnified by vocals that sound as if they might break down at any moment – Roy Orbison minus the operatic distress. Vinton hit a weeping artistic peak with the teary-eyed soldier of “Mr. Lonely,” but even his occasional declarations of love, like “There! I’ve Said it Again” and “My Heart Belongs to Only You” are just as much wishful thinking as they are returned fulfillment.

These fourteen tracks cover most of Vinton’s Top 20 hits, including his four chart toppers, but given Vinton’s sustained success through the ‘60s and early ‘70s, this isn’t complete. In addition to a couple dozen lower charting singles, the top-20 “Clinging Vine” (#17) and seasonal “Dearest Santa” (#8) are missing. A more important omission is his Top-5 comeback “My Melody of Love,” waxed for ABC in 1975 after having departed from Epic. This marked a brief return to the Top 5 and garnered enough publicity to land Vinton a television show. You can find it on the much shorter Collections, but you’re best bet is this set (or Varese’s more complete All-Time Greatest Hits), plus a digital download of “My Melody of Love.” [©2010 hyperbolium dot com]

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The Friends of Distinction: Grazin’

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The easy soul album behind the stellar funky hit

The Friends of Distinction were a Los Angeles vocal quartet, two men and two women, whose funky hit single, “Grazing in the Grass,” belied the smoother, easy soul of this debut album. Produced by John Florez, the group picked a lead vocalist from among the four to match each track, and then surrounded them with fetching harmonies. Their material ranged from Hugh Masekela’s title song (to which group founder/vocalist Harry Elston added lyrics) to a slow and sensual cover of Lennon & McCartney’s “And I Love Her.” They created a vocal jazz arrangement of Cole Porter’s “Lonesome Mood” that suggests Lambert, Hendricks & Ross, as does the waltz time “Baby I Could Be So Good at Loving You.” The parallel with the Fifth Dimension is reinforced by the group’s stellar cover of Laura Nyro’s “Eli’s Coming,” featuring a supercharged falsetto lead by Jessica Cleaves against intricate backing vocals and an arrangement that alternates between slow soul and fervent revival. The album’s second single “Going in Circles” charted into the Top 20 with a superb arrangement that combines strings, horns and woodwinds behind a feeling lead vocal and soulful harmonies. It’s a shame that the group’s follow-up album Highly Distinct was rushed out by the label, as given time to create, this debut shows how brilliantly they could select and sing light soul. [©2010 hyperbolium dot com]

Waylon Jennings: Waylon / Singer of Sad Songs

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Waylon Jennings starts to dig in his heels

By the time Waylon and Singer of Sad Songs were released in 1970, a number of things had changed in RCA’s approach to recording Waylon Jennings. Chet Atkins had turned production over to Danny Davis, with whom Jennings was more able and willing to butt heads, and by the second album, Jennings’ Phoenix compatriot Lee Hazlewood was brought in to replace Davis. Jennings himself had shown sparks of independence from Nashville’s way of doing things on his previous couple of albums, but here he stretches ever further, picking classic and new rock ‘n’ roll songs and material from Mickey Newbury, Tom Rush, and Tim Hardin. Nashville and the general music industry had changed as well, with lusher productions starting to give way to singer-songwriters whose voice and songs were made the central focus.

Unfortunately these changes didn’t immediately lead to the radical changes Jennings would introduce a couple years later, and winning songs like Liz Anderson’s “Yes, Virginia” are still infiltrated by background cooing and over-arranged answer vocals. On the other hand, Jennings opens Waylon with “Brown Eyed Handsome Man,” a 1956 Chuck Berry song that had been a 1956 R&B hit on the Chicago-based Chess label. He apparently knew which way the musical winds were blowing as the single charted to #3. Jennings lets fly his abilities to sing tender folk and pained blues, with the bass and drums occasionally matching his assertiveness. Mickey Newbury’s “The Thirty Third of August” has a fantastic arrangement of acoustic guitar, high-string bass, drums, organ and strings; this sounds little like Nashville product and carries the song’s heavy lyrics. The album is uneven and dated by dabs of electric sitar, but it was the most satisfying statement of Jennings direction to that date.

Jennings’ third album for RCA in 1970, Singer of Sad Songs, was waxed over three days in Los Angeles with fellow former-Phoenician Lee Hazlewood and a few West Coast musicians. Hazlewood had just come off releasing the International Submarine Band’s Safe at Home on his LHI label, so he was in a better position to understand Jennings’ new ideas than the RCA staff in Nashville. The album’s only hit, and the only track produced by RCA’s Danny Davis, is the title song, which stopped short of the Top 10 at #12. Much better are a spirited cover of Chris Kenner’s 1957 “Sick and Tired” that trades the originals New Orleans R&B bounce for Jennings’ merger of country, folk, rock and soul. He covers the Louvin Brothers’ “Must You Throw Dirt in My Face” and the vintage “Ragged But Right,” and picks several contemporary folk songs. Jennings sounds relaxed and plugged in to his song choices, though his cover of the Rolling Stones “Honky Tonk Woman” feels forced and slightly off the mark.

Both albums, but particularly Singer of Sad Songs, are the statements of a musician born to the early West Texas rock ‘n’ roll of Buddy Holly, developed in the bars of Arizona, and steeped in country classics. Though he’d yet to fully break free of RCA and Nashville’s restrained way of doing things, his song selections planted the seeds of what was to come. Waylon appears to have been previously reissued on the American Beat label, but is no longer in print. Singer of Sad Songs makes its domestic CD debut here, providing an answer to the question “what album features a duet between Waylon Jennings and Lee Hazlewood?” Collectors’ Choice’s two-fer includes an eight-page booklet with full-panel reproductions of both album covers – front and back – and new liner notes by Colin Escott. This is a great way to introduce yourself to Jennings’ budding outlaw years. [©2010 hyperbolium dot com]