We hadn’t posted a lost rock ‘n’ roll classic in a while, and
in choosing one, we wrestled with plenty subgenres—party, sleazy, bright,
country-tinged, horror, celebrity-in-the-making, tenor sax honker, and so forth—but
the climate these days is more than vaguely contentious so we went with pugilistica
magnificat “Rumble on the Docks,” a rowdy surf-punk tune which originally
appeared in 1964 on the Sandé label, no, we don’t think this song is directly
related to the 1956 crime noir movie of the same title, nor do we think the
band name—Aquanauts—is directly related to one or more television series of the
same name, no, Dear Reader, this is just a hard-cranking tune which will make
you propose amorous encounters to another lovely person immediately, make you
reach for the whiskey, make you turn up the volume, make you jump for two
minutes (plus residual lifelong jumping), and make you drive fast, although not
in that order necessarily, no, the order is up to you, Dear Reader, although we
recommend amour first, always.
When the featured saxophone player for the Duke Ellington
orchestra introduced his solo for “Diminuendo and Crescendo in Blue” at the 1956
Newport Jazz Festival, a ‘platinum blonde’ concertgoer provoked the crowd to dance
in the aisles. The raucous scene inspired
the soloist Paul Gonsalves to blow through twenty-seven rollicking choruses, a
famous and heroic effort that singlehandedly revitalized the orchestra’s
slumping fortunes. In an interview with the New
York Times many years later, the dancer, Elaine Anderson, also credited Count
Basie drummer, Jo Jones, for emboldening her and the Ellington musicians, by
rapping a rolled-up newspaper near the bandstand. “I went mad,” Anderson said,
referring to the uninhibited wildness of her dancing. “And the madder I went,
the madder Paul Gonsalves went.”
Many great studio and live jazz performances had yet to be
recorded, and many great bandleaders would realize (one or more) signature
moments in the ten years following Ellington’s triumph at Newport: Miles Davis’
Kind of Blue and John Coltrane’s
Village Vanguard material are but two examples. If jazz had coined a soaring
new idiom—bepop—that would fuel post-war exhilaration, it would arguably become
a more abundant form in the 1950s and 1960s, one that would ultimately interrogate
convention with such discordant effects, it might’ve extinguished itself with
furious abandon. Eventually, listeners would charge toward rock ‘n’ roll. (Have
you heard of this phenomenon?) They charged, did these listeners, toward Elvis Presley
of the U.S.A. and The Beatles of Great Britain. The Rolling Stones would
emerge. Bob Dylan, too. These titans prospered. But surely, this wasn’t the
only racket in town.
Kind devotees of this blog may recollect my jump blues post from a few years ago, one
that attempted to summarize my lengthy foray, as anthologist, into that impressive,
if nearly forgotten music. During said decade-long endeavor, I would encounter “other
infectious tunes” that couldn’t be included, stylistically, but not for lack of
merit. The descriptor, “titty shaker”, might’ve accompanied a given song, and
whether the term blustered into vulgarity, it probably distorted some of the fine
musicianship on display: saxophone, guitar, piano, and/or organ work. Jean-Paul
Sartre, in his 1938 novel, Nausea, would
banish such talk—“My titties, my lovely fruits”—to the head-swimming dolor of a
Paris café, and besides, dear reader, I
shake to this music, I, a man who sporteth not shakable bosoms. Let us not
designate a sex, a cleavage. The person
shakes! Elaine Anderson (as well as the entire Newport Jazz Festival) still
shakes to the Paul Gonsalves saxophone workout!
The ‘platinum blonde’
Elaine Anderson dancing.
Once the jump blues compilation neared completion, I experienced
the melancholy of discovering no new (old) music. Noting my mopey disposition,
a friend encouraged me to double back. Thinking that I might modestly compile
two hours of these “Shakers”, I embarked, instead, upon another voyage rife
with eventful discovery. I would often admit “I can’t believe what I’m hearing”
in response to a string of obscure recordings, many of which don’t exist in
digital platforms such as iTunes or Pandora. I commenced to acquire these songs,
twenty-five at a time, until I’d amassed 600 of them, produced by 500 different
leaders or bands. They fit, broadly, into two categories—Shakers and R&B
Shakers—yet most of the songs share traits, virtually none of the music offers
any suggestion of burlesque, more than half the songs don’t employ lyrics. Most
of the tunes were recorded between 1958 and 1964, an important little period that
would give way to the British Invasion.
Before we continue, please understand that I have no idea
what I’m talking about. The many genres (or subgenres) represented in my Shakers
compilation—early rock, instrumental rock, instrumental rockabilly, early
R&B, garage, surf, Latin, reggae, soul, northern soul, early punk, and so
forth—each require a substantial volley of scholarly activity, in order to
comprehend various dynamics. Some of the leaders and bands—Link Wray, Duane
Eddy, Sandy Nelson, Johnny and the Hurricanes, Bill Black’s Combo, King Curtis,
Gary “U.S.” Bonds, Huey “Piano” Smith, Barry White, Little Willie John, and a
few others—would deservedly garner broader attention for their vibrancy, but
the vast majority of the Shakers compilation features nearly-forgotten fast-cookers.
I’ve listened to a lot of records, but I’m undoubtedly missing a lot of records. And if I’ve learned one thing, it’s never
to overlook the B Side.
I’ve previously posted songs by J.C. Davis (“The Splib, Part 1”), Frank de Rosa (“Irish Rock”), Willene Barton (“Rice Pudding”), The
Royaltones (“Royal Whirl”), and the luminous Plas Johnson (“Downstairs”). Some
of my other favorites include The Yum Yums (“Gonna Be a Big Thing”), The
Monitors (“Mama Linda”), Piano Slim (“Squeezing”), Cozy Cole (“Cozy’s Mambo”), Big
Bo Thomas and the Arrows (“Big Bo’s Iron Horse”), the Nomads (“Icky Poo”), The Saxons
(“Camel Walk, Part 1”), The Revelairs (“Ridin’ High”), Al Duncan (“Cossak Walk”),
and The Ricco-Shays (“Damascus”). These are but a few of the outrageous
dancers, stompers, rockers, grinders, head-bouncers, groovers, crawlers,
swingers, walkers, and shakers. I deejay off this music just about every
Thursday night at the Black Squirrel in Adams Morgan. “Come on down”, as they
say.
Today, I’ve posted a Shaker from 1962 or 1963, “The Sinner”, by the Terri-Tones,
and an R&B Shaker from 1960, “A Night with Daddy G, Part 1”, by the Church
Street Five.
“The Sinner” by the Terri-Tones
(1962 or 1963).
A Canadian group, the
Terri-Tones were named for leader Terry Kelly, who described the band’s chief
output as “R&B-sourced instrumentals.” Wives and girlfriends of the
musicians can be heard whispering “Sinner” just before the band launches into a
piece that defies category, but includes unequal parts of frantic horn charging
off a cliff, guitar boogie shuffle, early chime of surf constellation, western (movie) motif, and
the gnawing bells of incisive realization. It occasionally slows for the band’s
benefit as well as ours. The A-side, “Go”, appears in the Shakers compilation
as well. (Wives and girlfriends holler “Everybody go!” just before the band rockets
forward.) The Terri-Tones played in Canada and the States, and backed Dick
Clark’s Caravan when it toured through their burgh. To this blogger’s knowledge,
they recorded only two songs, even as they demonstrate a greater knowledge of “the
sinner” than everybody else.
“A Night with Daddy G,
Part 1” by the Church Street Five (1960).
Gene “Daddy G” Barge founded The Church Street Five, which
recorded for Legrand Records in Norfolk, Va. A saxophonist who admired Lester
Young and played on Chuck Willis’ hit, “C.C. Rider” and Jimmy Soul’s hit, “If
You Wanna Be Happy”, among others, Barge also played with heavyweights Bo
Diddley, Jackie Wilson, and Muddy Waters, among others, and knew everybody. (Even as he is Gene Barge,
with a G, his nickname derives from a Norfolk pastor.) Barge never prospered
off his recordings, and taught high school in Norfolk before working for Chess
Records in Chicago. “A Night With Daddy G” was divided into two parts, an A-side
and a B-side, (both are R&B Shakers), before Gary “U.S.” Bonds recorded
lyrics to the song, by then repurposed as “Quarter to Three”, an eventual
number one hit. Barge honks wildly on “Quarter to Three”, “A Night with Daddy G”,
and everywhere else. There is no finer
party. Amen.
Likely personnel for “The Sinner”: Terry Kelly (bass), Wayne
Malton (keyboards), Kerry Cornelius (saxophone), Tony Langlaan (drums), and Gary
Delaney (guitar).
Likely personnel for “A Night with Daddy G”: Gene Barge
(saxophone), Nabs Shields (drums), Junior Fairley (bass), Willie Burnell
(piano), Leonard Barks (trombone), and voices.
25 word song review for “Royal Whirl” (New York, 1961, Goldisc)
Relentlessly optimistic / a regal
climber that doesn’t lack for ensemble / bruising humility despite the illumination
of its achievement / around us: embers & we? / jumping / yeah!
Information on The Royaltones, 1
Founded in Dearborn, Mich., circa 1957, the band
would distinguish itself by appearing on American Bandstand, hosted by Dick
Clark. Other notable appearances included the Howard Theatre (Washington, D.C.)
and Royal Theatre (Baltimore, Md.) The host for the latter? One Redd Foxx.
Information on The Royaltones, 2
To this blogger’s knowledge, the band exclusively played rock
‘n’ roll instrumental songs. The founder-saxophonist, George Katsakis, drew
influences from early R&B saxophone players Sam “The Man” Taylor, Red
Prysock, and Lee Allen, among others. It shows, in all the best ways.
Also listen to
“Poor Boy” (1958) (peaked at #17
on the Billboard Hot 100).
“See Saw” (1959).
“Flamingo Express” (1961) (peaked
at #82 on the Billboard Hot 100).
Some notable associations
+ Ace compilation
Legendary guitar player, Dennis Coffey, joined the
Royaltones in 1962, along with Bob Babbitt on bass. The Royaltones would become
the touring group for Del Shannon before disbanding circa 1965. In 2009, Ace
Records released a 30-track compilation of the band’s output on CD.
Blogger’s response to
criticism of the band
Allmusic dismisses the band’s sound as having grown passé, implying
that saxophone-dominated records such as “Royal Whirl” don’t ultimately reflect
the true spirit of (guitar-dominated) rock ‘n’ roll. Wrong. If anything, the band charges forward in pell-mell, uphill fashion
not possible without horns. The record inherits plenty from bebop and jump blues, and from these formidable wellsprings, soars in texture and register
alike. That a sound might grow “passé” (in the judgment of reviewers) says more
about the flawed consumers of the sound than the producers. How to categorize
this here combo
The Royaltones contributed to a fertile, if now largely
forgotten period of early rock ‘n’ roll, early R&B, instrumental rockabilly,
surf, and early garage: we’ll call it The Shakers Era. Let’s not be afraid to
admit this Shaking onto our modern-day queues. The blogger does not contend
that “Royal Whirl” shakes the hardest of all Shakers. He knows several hundreds
of “noble accents and lucid, inescapable rhythms”, but “Royal Whirl” reminds him
that great rock reinvests itself in its own momentum, leaving propulsion and anticipation
difficult to separate. Whirl on!
Likely personnel on “Royal Whirl”: George Katsakis (saxophone), Mike Popoff (keyboards), Greg Popoff (drums), either Bob Sanderson or Vern Parker (guitar), Ken Anderson (saxophone).
