Merry Christmas, My Friend!

If I mention the band The Royal Guardsmen, what’s the first song that pops into your head? Well, okay, maybe it would be the second song to pop into your head, but, still, my guess is one of the first two would be Snoopy’s Christmas (see player below), recorded in 1967 on the Laurie record label – the same label, by the way, which brought us hits by the likes of Dion and the Belmonts, The Chiffons, and – make sure you’re sitting down – yes, that’s right, Bobby Goldsboro!

The song, Snoopy’s Christmas, was a follow up to the group’s debut hit, Snoopy vs. the Red Baron (which might have been the first song to pop into your head!), and, like its predecessor, Snoopy’s Christmas tells the story of a WWI air battle between everybody’s favorite beagle, Snoopy, and his old nemesis, the Red Baron – who for some reason is now used to promote frozen pizza!

Anyway, unlike the first tune, this song has a seasonally appropriate happy ending when, after being inspired by the sound of Christmas bells from the town below, the Red Baron adopts a spirit of peace, calls a halt to the fighting, and offers Snoopy a holiday truce – and perhaps a slice of pizza, as well! The song’s chorus rings forth with seasonal words of hope and goodwill:

Christmas bells, oh Christmas bells, ringing through the land
Bringing peace to all the world and goodwill to man.

As a kid, I owned both The Royal Guardsmen’s hit singles. (You did, too, right?) And, as a drummer, I remember thinking that the march-like drum cadence used on both songs was pretty cool – a rhythmic style, which (for some unknown reason) wouldn’t make it back into pop music until 1974 with the Bo Donaldson and the Heywoods’ hit Billy, Don’t be a Hero! But we can discuss the merits of that song another time…

Merry Christmas!

Shannon is gone...

Back in the spring of 1976 I started collecting 45 rpm records. I had this great idea that if I started my collection by going out and buying the current top ten singles, and then each week purchased just the new additions to the top ten, in several years (for just a few dollars each week, mind you!) I’d amass an amazing record collection of top pop hits. Well, that plan – great as it was – lasted about a year before I sort of lost interest in the project. (Can you say ADHD?)  Cool idea, though, eh?

Now, almost 35 years later, I’m sad to say I have absolutely no idea what became of that collection, which included classics like Vicki Sue Robinson’s Turn the Beat Around, Gary Wright’s Dream Weaver, and Dr. Hook’s A Little Bit More. (Remember the lyrics to that song? “When you think I’ve loved you all I can – I’m gonna love you a little bit more.” Nice.)

Anyway, one of the more interesting records to hit the charts that year was a song called Shannon (see player below), written and performed by singer-songwriter Henry Gross – and a pretty good tune actually, although, along with tunes like Gilbert O’Sullivan’s Alone Again, Naturally and Eric Carmen’s All By Myself, it is highly ranked on my list of The Most Depressing Songs of the 70s!

Gross says he was inspired to write the song after hearing that a friend’s pet dog had been hit by a car and killed. (The friend was Carl Wilson of the Beach Boys, btw.) The dog’s name was Shannon, which coincidentally was also the name of Gross’s dog. So moved by the coincidence was Gross, that he sat down with his guitar and in minutes wrote the song Shannon, a soft, rock ballad lamenting the passing of a cherished pet, who the singer heard  was “drifting out to sea.” Nice thought.

Now I have to admit that back in 1976, when I first heard the song, it kind of creeped me out, because at the time I didn’t know it was about a dog – I thought it was about the singer’s little sister! (How was I supposed to know?) You can imagine just how horrified I was every time I heard  the lyrics

Shannon is gone. I heard she’s drifting out to sea.

She always loved to swim away.

Maybe she’ll find an island with a shady tree,

Just like the one in our back yard.

What a relief to find out, albeit years later, that the song was really about a dog. Still sad, but not quite so creepy!

Who's Ron Dante?

Back in 1969 when I was in the seventh grade, the song Tracy by The Cufflinks topped out at number 10 on the Billboard charts. The song was a one-hit wonder – a fluffy, bouncy, bubble-gummy kind of tune that really isn't worth remembering.

But I remember it well because, at the time, one of my best friends had a crush on a classmate named Tracy. And I (good friend that I was) took every opportunity to chastise him by singing at the top of my lungs the words to the song every time we passed in the hallway at school.

Tracy, when I'm with you, somethin' you do bounces me off the ceiling.

Tracy, day after day, when you're this way, I get a lovin' feelin'.

Yes, that’s right, tough guy that I was, I harassed him by singing at him! – which, to be honest, is about as close as I ever came to anything even remotely resembling bullying behavior. Shocking, but true!

Ron Dante

Now, as far as the song is concerned, the truth of the matter is that the band, The Cufflinks, never really existed – not as an actual band, anyway. The song featured the vocal work of a session singer named Ron Dante, who multi-tracked his own voice for both the lead and background vocals, while being backed instrumentally by a handful of studio musicians. And, as if that’s not exciting enough (I really do need to get a life!), what’s really cool is that back in the spring of 1969, not only did Ron Dante have a top ten hit with the song Tracy, but, at the same time, was also responsible for all the vocals on the song currently at the top of the charts, Sugar, Sugar, by the Archies – yet another group that didn’t really exist!

I think that’s pretty cool: two concurrent top ten songs, credited to two different bands, neither of which really existed, sung by the same singer who, by the way, didn’t get any credit on either recording. I’m not sure, but I think that’s got to be some sort of record! (Nice play on words!)

To his credit, as a studio singer Dante sang on hundreds of records and commercial jingles, and was an equally prolific record producer, working with the likes of Barry Manilow, Cher and John Denver. Way to go, Ron!

Gotta Love Weird Al Yankovic

My daughters recently had me watch on YouTube an accordion parody of Ke$ha’s Tik Tok, after which I felt compelled (out of my own need to show them how cool I am!) to share with them a video version of Weird Al Yankovic’s My Bologna. (See player below.) The song – a parody of the Knack’s My Sharona – was one of Weird Al’s early fores into the pop song parody world, of which he has, of course, become king. My daughters enjoyed it, by the way, and were particularly intrigued (translation: embarrassed) when I told them that in my mid-20s, I bore an uncanny resemblance to Weird Al. (I really did!)

Listening to My Bologna brought back memories of Sunday evenings during my sophomore year in college, when my roommate and I had a standing date with The Dr. Demento Show, a nationally syndicated radio program, broadcast locally in Philadelphia on WYSP. Although he wasn’t really a doctor (and, in fact, Demento was not his real name – surprise, surprise! – it was actually Barret Eugene Hanson), Demento was an authority on obscure and novel songs, which were featured weekly on his show.

One of Dr. Demento's claims to fame is that he can be credited with discovering Weird Al Yankovic, who in the mid-seventies began sending Demento home-made tapes of his song parodies, which at that time featured Weird Al singing the lead vocal while accompanying himself on the accordion. The result was an amazingly lame, but absolutely hilarious, song parody style, a prime example of which can be heard on Yankovic’s My Bologna, produced in 1979.

For the next 30 years, Weird Al produced numerous song parodies/videos, including hits like Eat It, Another One Rides the Bus and Amish Paradise, all of which are impeccably produced, and single out Weird Al as the master of his genre.

Of course, as good as Weird Al is, I still have a warm spot in my heart for the music of an earlier song parodist, Allan Sherman (Hello Mudda, Hello Fadduh). I grew up listening to his record albums, and to this day can sing by heart the words to many of his songs. But more on Allan Sherman another time…. Do you remember him?

Lookin' Out My Back Door

One of my great regrets in life is never seeing Creedence Clearwater Revival live in concert. I absolutely loved their music when I was growing up, and, in fact, the song Green River was one of the first 45s I ever bought. John Fogerty’s one-of-a-kind voice, his signature guitar sound, and his talent as a producer – well, it all made for some great records!

Without a doubt, my favorite CCR album was Cosmo’s Factory. And, as a teenager, I spent hours not only listening to the music, but also staring at album cover, which, for some reason, really captured my attention. It was so random: John Fogerty seated on a motorcycle; drummer Doug Clifford perched atop a ten-speed bike; bassist Stu Cook and guitarist Tom Fogerty just sort of lazily lounging around. I remember thinking at the time, “If this is what rock and roll musicians do when they’re just hanging out – then sign me up!” (The the title of the album, by the way, refers to the Berkeley, CA, warehouse where the band rehearsed, nicknamed “The Factory” by drummer Doug Clifford, a.k.a. Cosmo. Yeah, that’s right. Cosmo. Just like Seinfeld’s Kramer!)

In the band I played with in high school, not only did we do a cover of the quintessential CCR hit, Proud Mary (along with every other band in the world!), but we also did a version of Lookin’ Out My Back Door – a great tune with some pretty off-the-wall lyrics!  Of course, not having the vocal range of John Fogerty, I had to pretty much squeak out, best I could, the song’s lofty refrain: Doo, doo, doo, lookin' out my back door. I got it, though. Although, I’m pretty sure I couldn’t do that now!

On a side note, Fogerty recently donated his “slugger” guitar (a guitar that’s shaped like a baseball bat) to the Baseball Hall of Fame, in Cooperstown, NY, performing during the induction ceremonies his baseball classic, Centerfield, one of my all time favorite tunes…

Air Supply? You've Got to be Kidding!

I have a friend who recently shared with me that she really likes the music of Air Supply. “What?” I exclaimed! “Air Supply? Are you kidding? How could you possibly like Air Supply?” She went on to say that she knows by heart all the words to their songs, has her iPod loaded with almost every tune they ever recorded, and absolutely is a dyed-in-the-wool fan. I looked at her with just one thought on my mind: Unbelievable! (Not really, I just like giving her a hard time!)

Australian-based Air Supply was a veritable giant in the soft rock business back in the early 80s, producing such classics as All Out of Love, Lost in Love, and Two Less Lonely People in the World. The group’s signature sound was a result of the collaboration between songwriter Graham Russell and lead singer Russell Hitchcock, who met in the mid-70s while performing in a production of Jesus Christ Superstar.

Back in the early 80s, when Air Supply came on the music scene, I was working at a small hardware store in Wilmington, Delaware, where all day long we listened to an adult contemporary radio station. And no exaggeration, I bet that station played an Air Supply song about once every hour – placing them high in the rotation with other soft rock superstars of the day like Barry Manilow, Lionel Richie and Kenny Rogers. Boy, those were the days!

I remember the first time I heard the Air Supply song, The One That You Love, and wondering if the lead vocal was sung by a man or a woman. (Check out the player below.) The voice sounded so high – at least for a man! Now granted, there have been plenty of males in the pop music industry with high voices – running the gamut from Neil Sedaka and Wayne Newton, to Steve Perry and Vince Gill – but something about Hitchcock’s voice seemed different to me. So much so, that I wrote a song parody, which included the following lines:

Here I am, the one that you love, waiting for my voice to change.
Understand, the one that you love, sings in a woman’s vocal range!

These days Russell and Hitchcock can be seen in a 30-minute infomercial, pitching a soft rock CD set for Time-Life. You know, they both look pretty good – unlike oldies icon Bobby Goldsboro (Honey, Watching Scotty Grow), who I also saw not long ago in an infomercial for Time-Life, wearing, without a doubt, the worst hairpiece I’ve ever seen in my life! But more on that another time….

What do you think? Am I being too hard on these guys?

Tommy James and the Hanky Panky

I remember being a young boy at summer camp in 1966 when the Tommy James and the Shondells’ song, My Baby Does the Hanky Panky, was a huge hit. I owned a little black AM transistor radio that I carried around with me most of the day, listening to a local top 40 station that seemed to play the song at least once an hour, along with other pop hits of the day like Little Red Riding Hood and Sweet Pea. Being just nine years old at the time, I thought the phrase “hanky panky” referred to a dance – you know, sort of like the hokey pokey. I was so naïve!

I do recall, however, just how much I liked the song – its overall twangy-ness, the steady, rocking rhythm of the instruments, the slightly out-of-tune background vocals, the crappy guitar solo – it was all good! I just never gave any real thought to the underlying meaning of the words, that’s all. Still, it was a pretty good tune.

Several years later, when I was in the sixth grade, some friends of mine and I formed a band to perform at a school talent show, and we chose to play another Tommy James’ hit, Crimson and Clover – yet another song the meaning of which completely eluded my still young and naïve brain! How good we all must have looked wearing our bellbottom pants, polyester shirts and matching neck scarves. Sort of a Greg Brady thing, I guess.

The coolest thing about doing the song, Crimson and Clover, was that in order to get the warbly effect for the vocal at the end of the song, we had to borrow from a friend a guitar amplifier that had a tremolo unit built in. (Actually, it was a small, internal fan placed in front of the speaker.) By attaching a microphone to the amp, we were able to copy perfectly the sound on the record: Crim-im-im-im-son-on-on-and-clo-oh-oh-oh-ver-er-er-er… O-oh-oh-oh-ver-er-an-and-o-oh-oh-oh-ver-er-er-er! The only difference was that our singer sang the song an octave higher than Tommy James! Sort of a Peter Brady thing – but hey, we were just 12 years old…