Monday, April 26, 2010

You Take My Breath Away!

Remember the name Rex Smith? If you don’t, I’m not surprised. Rex Smith was sort of a teen idol back in the late 70s, having really only one hit song, the romantic ballad You Take My Breath Away, which briefly hit the top ten in 1979. I collected 45 hit singles back then, and I remember Smith’s glossy black and white headshot on the front of the record’s dust cover.

Anyway, I have to admit – although I really don’t want to! – I kind of liked the song when it came out. (I guess I’m just a sucker for a whiny ballad.) These days, however, I can’t for the life of me remember why I liked the song – in fact, when I hear it now (it’s frequently played on the Sirius/XM Jukebox of Cheese) I think, “What a piece of useless fluff! How could I possibly have liked that song?”

Back in 1979, though, I liked the song well enough to actually write an arrangement of it for the wedding band I played in at the time – a band I like to refer to as “Four White Guys in Ruffled Shirts and Cheesy Tuxedoes.” I grimace now when I think about some young newlywed couple taking their spot on the dance floor for that very special first dance, and me seated behind my drum set crooning out lyrics like, “You, you smile and it’s okay; I don’t know what to say; you take my breath away; you take my breath a-waaaaay!” Yikes!

Rex Smith did go on to achieve some success in his career, including a platinum-selling album, Sooner or Later, acting roles on and off Broadway, and guest appearances on TV shows like The Love Boat, Baywatch, and As the World Turns. Clearly, the guy has some talent.

When all is said and done, Rex Smith’s You Take My Breath Away ranks right up there with other schlocky classics of the era, like John Travolta’s Let Her In (1976), Kenny Nolan’s I Like Dreamin’ (1977), and Dr. Hook’s Sharing’ the Night Together (1978) – all of which, at the time, I also thought were pretty good tunes. What was I thinking?

Tuesday, April 13, 2010

Whistle a Happy Tune!

I don’t hear very much whistling in pop music. I wonder why that is. I guess it has to do with the fact that it’s hard to whistle well, and that there’s a fine line between really good whistling (you know, whistling with a nice tone and just the right amount of vibrato) and really bad whistling (that is, whistling characterized by the combination of a shrill tone and a vibrato you could drive a truck through – a style I not-so-respectfully refer to as “old man” whistling).

When I think back to the music of my youth, two songs featuring someone whistling come to mind: Georgy Girl and Sittin’ On The Dock of the Bay. It also occurs to me that while the whistling used in both these songs helps establish an upbeat and carefree kind of mood, at the same time that mood sits in stark contrast to the overall depressing theme of the songs themselves.

The song Georgy Girl was made popular by The Seekers back in 1962. And even though I was only five years old at the time, I remember hearing it on the radio with its bubbly, bouncy, four-bar whistling introduction and thinking, “Boy, that’s kind of different. I don’t think I’ve ever heard anybody whistling on a pop tune before! That sounds sort of fun and happy!” But then, despite its cheery introduction, the song goes on to describe a depressed and lonely young girl who lives in a dream world and runs away from reality. The lyrics even urge Georgy “not to be scared of changing,” and to “jump down from the shelf a little bit.” (I have to wonder if it’s ever a good idea to tell a depressed person to go find something to jump off of! Yikes!) Then, to make matters even worse, the words of the last verse encourage her to look for “another Georgy deep down inside” – suggesting that not only is this poor girl depressed, but apparently she also suffers from what’s known clinically as dissociative identity disorder, (a.k.a multiple personalities). Oh well, so much for my happy, cheery, bouncing little song. It’s sort of a downer, actually.

In Otis Redding’s Sittin’ On The Dock of the Bay (1968), the whistling comes at the end of the song – and as the music fades out softly and slowly, the listener can imagine Otis rising from his seat on the dock, and happily and contentedly strolling off down some little road that runs along the bay. And that would be a great image, except for the fact that the lyrics speak of a man who, among other things, feels like “nothing’s gonna come my way,” “has nothing to live for,” suffers from a “loneliness that won’t leave me alone,” and is pathetically prepared to spend the rest of his wretched life “wasting time.” Wow! So much for the image of him happily strolling off into the sunset!

Hey, whatever happened to whistling a happy tune?

Thursday, April 8, 2010

Woman Woman!

My mother loved the music of Gary Puckett and the Union Gap, especially the song Woman Woman, which hit the charts in November of 1967. I remember her buying the 45 rpm single, and then playing it repeatedly (and literally ad nauseum!) on our family’s Sylvania stereo system, which enjoyed a place of prominence in our living room. (Stereo record players were still quite a novelty back then!)

As you probably know, Gary Puckett is the artist who brought us at least two other great hits: Young Girl and This Girl is a Woman Now – two songs that go wonderfully hand in hand, and together suggest that while it’s inappropriate for a man to pursue a young girl (as it most certainly is – even if she has led him to believe she’s “old enough to give him love”), once that young girl becomes a woman, well, she’s pretty much fair game for just about any middle-aged pop singer who comes down the pike dressed in a Union civil war uniform with a desire to “change her world.”

Yet, I digress. As I think back on my mother playing that record, Woman Woman, I find myself now, years later, wondering, What was my mom thinking? And, more to the point, just what was there about those lyrics that was so exciting to her? The song is, after all, about a woman who has “cheating on her mind,” and who Puckett describes as having “a certain look when she is on the move.” Did those lyrics express some secret fantasy my mother harbored in her own mind? Could my mother have had cheating on her mind? Yikes! Not my mom! And gosh, could it be I was blind to the fact that she wore some certain look when she was on the move? Eek, I don’t even want to go there!

Of course, it is possible (and, in fact, likely), that maybe my mom just simply liked the song – you know, like it had a good beat and you could dance to it – and that there were no other thoughts on her mind… er…well, you know what I mean.

Thoughts? Comments?