Sixty-Four Years of Music ~ Yes, I Was Once a Tween

There's a certain age in a girl's life when her options for adventure are extremely limited. She's too young to drive, too old for a bicycle (which wouldn't take her far anyway). Luckily, helicopter parents hadn't yet been invented. Parents in the sixties were the opposite of helicopters ~ maybe more like Poseidon Adventure parents ~ sink or swim. It wasn't that they didn't care; but their lives didn't revolve around their kids, as much as shows like Leave It To Beaver tried to convince people. We were expected to show up for meals, kind of a "proof of life" gesture; otherwise it was preferable for all concerned that we find ways to occupy ourselves.

My friend Alice's parents were a bit more involved in her life. I remember riding the bus with Alice to her house after school and lazing about on kitchen stools and her mom asking how her day was. That was bizarre! I think she might have even asked me, which rendered me tongue-tied. I don't think my mom ever expressed interest in my daily life until I turned forty.

When Alice and I were on our own, we had very few diversions. Playing records, essentially. I'd almost gotten run over by a freight train at age ten when riding my bike across a railroad bridge, so my adventurous streak was by now muted. Alice lived out in the country, albeit in a facsimile of a neighborhood consisting of a strip of six or seven homes surrounded on all sides by tall prairie grass. It was too far to walk to any semblance of civilization, but those seven families held fifties-style parties on Friday or Saturday nights, with pot luck dishes, music, and gallons of booze.

I, on the other hand, lived sort of in the country, too, but my home was surrounded by businesses. My parents owned a 52-unit motel where we resided in a gloomy attached apartment; and there were eating establishments on either side of us and another motel across the highway, as well as a local Volkswagen dealership. Further down the road was Kist's Livestock Barn and another supper club and a watermelon stand (yes). When Alice stayed overnight with me, we feasted on candy bars from the lobby machine, purchased with quarters from the office cash register and ten-ounce bottles of Coca-Cola acquired in the same manner.

One warm night of summer when vacancies were abundant, Mom allowed Alice and me to stay in one of the motel's double rooms. We made a pact that we were going to stay up all night. Somehow we had secured a box of No-Doz, so fueled by white tablets and copious green-tinged bottles of Coke, we found ourselves wide awake at two o'clock in the morning. Like all adolescent notions, this journey turned out to be a bust. I'd brought my transistor, and we danced atop the beds to the grooviest hits of the day.

This video is a replication of what the actual song might have looked like performed live:

This performance actually does feature supercilious Graham Nash, before he was too haughty to perform pop songs:

At some point in the middle of the night, we decided to smear on white lipstick and tie cloth belts around our foreheads and venture out to act "cool". Lee's Steakhouse was just a short jaunt through the trees. Despite its name, Lee's was just a cafe; one that stayed open 24 hours a day. It was a magnet for late-night club-hoppers who had a sudden craving for pancakes and maple syrup. Lee's served up a mouth-watering fried chicken basket (in an actual basket) with fries and a tiny cup of cole slaw. Lonely guys would nurse a steaming cup of coffee in a booth alone and flirt with Hilda, the late-shift waitress. The family that owned Lee's lived in an actual house behind the restaurant and their kids were great friends of my little brother and sister. And I knew Hilda from having hung around the cafe on my bored days. She was twenty-something and very kind.

Alice and I had about thirty-five cents between us as we sauntered through the door of Lee's at three a.m., barefoot (which apparently was allowed back then), wearing shorts and sleeveless blouses; our foreheads encircled by macrame headbands. We slid inside a booth, sipped water, and when Hilda stopped by with her pad and a puzzled look, said "No thanks, just water". We chomped on crackers from the little plastic boats parked on the table and slurped water from beveled glasses through paper straws.

Occasionally I'd stroll over to the juke box, slip a couple of dimes in the slot and punch up records we liked:

Our thirst for attention went unsated. The only person in the place who found us weird was Hilda, and she wasn't thrilled that no tip would be forthcoming from the saltine munchers. There were two lone guys in the place who probably had issues of their own they were dealing with, and two spotlight-hungry pre-teens didn't warrant a speck on their radar.

After an hour we tromped back to our motel room. The night was black and the world eerily quiet. And we were still bug-eyed from the amphetamines. We crawled into our respective beds and gabbed until eventually we fell asleep and dozed until mid-afternoon.

Sorry this story doesn't have a blockbuster ending, but the life of a thirteen-year-old in the mid-sixties was drearily mundane. 

1966

My husband seems to think that 1966 was the nadir of music, but my feeling is that the "best" music is tucked inside the recesses of one's brain. I remember 1964 and 1965 more than 1966. That may be because sixty-six was a rather traumatic year for me, or maybe because I am right.

Thus, I've decided to find out.

Let's stipulate that there are awesome songs and songs that reek in any given year. I'm not going to try to tip the balance in one direction or the other. I'm relying on Billboard to tell me what people were listening to in nineteen sixty-six, because, shoot, I was eleven years old! How good do you think my memory is?

Disclaimer:  We all romanticize the past. Maybe we do that because the present rather sucks. But it's true we remember the good and conveniently forget the awful. Billboard is here to set me straight. Billboard doesn't lie.

In perusing Billboard's chart of the Year-End Hot 100 from 1966, I find that, yes, there were some excellent songs -- songs that jog my memory (in a good way) and songs that I, sadly, didn't glom onto until a few years later. Not sure why that is. Musical tastes mature? I'm always partial to the songs that bring me back to a time and a place. This one does:

John Sebastian is more than "Welcome Back Kotter". And then there's Zal Yanovsky. I don't think any musician in any band has been as joyful as Zal was.

I saw Johnny Rivers in concert a few years ago, in an intimate setting. Trust me, he is superb. Still. Even in 1966 I was enamored of this artist. The "Live At The Whisky A Go Go" album is classic (even if they didn't know how to spell "whiskey"). It's rare that a live album latches on to one's memory, but this one most definitely did.

As I recap 1966, I'm struck by the number of soon-to-be legends who appeared around that time. I'm told that this guy still packs them in -- at age 75! Yea, that's right. All you hip-hoppers out there and you musically-deficient pop artists, take heed. And I knew him when (well, I actually didn't know him personally, but his music...)

Jann Wenner is a jerk. Just induct Neil into the hall of fame already. What is it, some kind of personal vendetta? Moron.

I was in love with this song in 1966. I mean, in loooove. I still rather love it. Don't ask me to explain it. There's just something...

No, I didn't forget those four guys. Yea, they were a thing in 1966. A THING. THE thing. I was there; I know. Oh, and yes, I had this single. I couldn't afford albums - hello? A single in itself cost a buck. I was a kid! I didn't have a job! On the plus side, at least with the Beatles, one got two great songs for the price of one (Day Tripper was the B side...or was it the A side...doesn't matter now.)

Here we see the dichotomy -- earnest Paul; smart-ass John. I like John:

I also had this next single. Remember Donovan? No? Well, here's the deal...Donovan was on some potent stuff, obviously. He helped to usher in the Summer of Love. The Summer of Love was a time when anybody could record whatever the F they wanted and fellow flower brains would swoon, "That's heavy, man!" In actuality, none of it made any sense. I still liked the song, though.

I loved the Beach Boys. I never loved them more than when they released "California Girls". But that was 1965. By 1966, they were already rehashing old songs (before Brian waddled downstairs in his terrycloth robe and commenced to creating Pet Sounds). This hit from '66 proves that you only need about five words to make a hit song, as long as those words are sung with nice harmonies:

Remember when instrumentals could become hits? You would have needed to be alive and cognizant in the nineteen seventies to remember that. But trust me, in the sixties it wasn't an alien concept...at all.

The Sufaris only had one hit, but that hit is played in every tavern in every town on every Saturday night. And people get up and dance to it...The Frug or The Jerk or whatever variation of "dancing" they choose. I personally am a mean Jerk dancer.

Sorry for the Frankie and Annette intro, but it was the best video I could find:

Obviously, this only scratches the surface of 1966; like a phonograph needle scratching the hell out of my precious 45's.

There is more to come. This was mostly the best. Let's dig in the dirt to uncover the worst.

Solo Rock & Roll Artists Of The '60's

Solo artists in the '60's ran the gamut from pop to schlock to rock to blues rock to psychedelia to country rock and probably a bunch of genres I'm forgetting.

Some classic artists got their start in the '60's. Then, of course, there were the one-hit wonders.

So, let's take a look, shall we?



JOHNNY RIVERS - MOUNTAIN OF LOVE

Who in their right mind wouldn't love Johnny Rivers? Johnny is one of my all-time favorite artists. I saw him in concert a few years back ~ he was great! He's more into the blues now, which is not surprising, because most of his hit songs did have a blues flavor to them. Johnny had many, many hit songs, a lot of them recorded at the Whisky a Go Go. Isn't that a great name? I mean, in a goofy kind of way. Whisky a GO GO. Ha! "Where are you going tonight?" "I'm going to the GO GO". But I digress. A couple of points regarding this video ~ Johnny is lip-syncing the song, which is fine. It was a bit awkward, however, when he gazed off toward the imaginary harmonica player. I also was struck by Johnny's lovely bouffant hairdo.


NEIL DIAMOND - SOLITARY MAN

Neil Diamond is another of those wildly underrated artists. Just listen to his greatest hits and you will become a fan, if you aren't one already. I won't even begin to enumerate the hit songs that Neil has had, nor the hit songs that he's written for other artists, but suffice it to say, he BELONGS in the Rock & Roll Hall Of Fame, good grief! I'm wondering if Jan Wenner has some sort of personal vendetta against Neil or something. But anyway, regarding this video ~ Are those stars in the background? Is he floating in space? I don't get it. Maybe he's sitting in front of a Christmas bush. Whatever. At least he has completely hypnotized the audience, except for that one guy who's leaning on his hand. I think it's probably a young Jan Wenner.



ROY HEAD - TREAT HER RIGHT

For all you American Idol fans, if you remember Sundance Head from last season, THIS is his dad. This was Roy's only hit song, as far as I know, but who can forget how limber he was? I mean, one minute he's lying on the floor, the next minute he's UP! And doing the splits! Accompanied by the girls from the Swiss Miss Hot Cocoa package, as well as a group of escaped convicts as his backup band. Who could ask for more?



BILLY JOE ROYAL - DOWN IN THE BOONDOCKS

As far as I know, this is the only song that has the word "boondocks" in its title. Boondocks is not a word one hears much these days (or ever), but Joe South found a way to make it work. In everyday conversation, you don't hear: "Where does that guy live?" "Oh, down in the boondocks". Is he a hermit? Is he Jed Clampett? He does say, "One fine day I'll find a way to move from this old shack", so I'm thinking he is Jed Clampett. But if so, where'd he get the suit and tie? From the general store? And where'd he learn that fancy dancing he's doing? There's a lot of unanswered questions here.

Regardless, Billy Joe is now on tour with this guy:


BJ THOMAS - THE EYES OF A NEW YORK WOMAN

Maybe it's just me, but BJ always looked a bit befuddled on stage, as if he was wondering, "What the heck am I doing here? I was trying to be a COUNTRY singer." Well, BJ has a really good voice, but it was a bit of an insult to be forced to sing in front of a bunch of plastic rings from six-packs of soda. And I kept worrying he was going to fall off that oversized ottoman he was standing on. And was that a lime green suit? Kinda matches his lime green skin color (I'm hoping this was just a problem with the video transfer!) BJ didn't have what we'd call an overpowering stage presence. I guess we know who the more dynamic fancy-dancer will be on this tour.


JODY MILLER - HOME OF THE BRAVE

I'd forgotten about Jody Miller until I stumbled upon this video on YouTube. Jody had a few hits in the sixties, and then she went on to have a career in country music. This song actually was a fairly big hit for Jody. I must say, though, the dancing here really seems inappropriate, especially the beatnik girl doing the "suspended jerk". That's why it's really hard to dance the jerk to a slow song. Too many pauses. As far as what Jody is singing about, from what I can tell, this kid is going to school in "funny clothes" ~ I don't know if she means funny literally ~ as in, is he dressing like a clown? Well, no wonder the kids are beating him up. And then she says he's "a little bit different". Well, I guess! How many kids did you know who came to school in ruffled polka-dot jumpsuits and oversized shoes? And he also "doesn't wear his hair" like the rest of the kids. Okay, so now he's got that Bozo hair to go along with his "funny clothes". Man, I bet that kid had TONS of friends. And if Jody is the mother in this story, then she should have sat her boy down and explained the rules of civilized society to him, rather than running off to Hollywood and singing a song about it. That's probably why he was so messed up to begin with.


SCOTT MCKENZIE - SAN FRANCISCO

I've always loved this song. I think Scott has such a beautiful voice. Now, to the subject matter at hand ~ Well, I'll admit, I was a bit too young to fully appreciate this whole counterculture Haight Ashbury thing, but from what I can tell, there was a bunch of upper middle class kids who decided to run off from their oppressive world of pink princess telephones and country club dances, and decided that ~ here's what they'd do! They'd pick flowers! They'd don Jesus robes and have "be-ins" in the park. Hey, it beats working in Daddy's office! And they did have a "new explanation". I sometimes wonder what became of all these kids in later life. Are they still wandering the streets of San Francisco, homeless and disillusioned and slightly crazy? I think not. I think they now have corporate jobs and they've made big bucks, and they don't talk much about those early days, except to fellow "travelers". And they still vote Democrat, because it's the party of the "oppressed"....


JACKIE DE SHANNON - WHAT THE WORLD NEEDS NOW

Ah yes, it's a timeless sentiment. What the world needs now is love, sweet love. Actually, what the world needs now is MONEY. It needs MONEY bad. At least I do. The hell with love. Have you been keeping up with the economy lately?? Love is all well and good, but I could use some greenbacks. Sure, easy for Jackie to flounce around in her princess dress with her Barbie hair. I bet it cost her a pretty penny for that bleach job and to get her hair styled in that flip. And princess dresses don't come cheap. And don't even get me started on Bacharach/David. They've got money, believe me. They can afford to write about love. And they vote straight Democratic ticket, because it's the party of the "oppressed".



MILLIE SMALL - MY BOY LOLLIPOP

Poor Millie Small. She had one major hit, but she was never heard from again. But HERE'S a song that one can get behind. It doesn't really say anything, and it's over before you know it. The perfect pop song. I actually think Millie retired from performing because she developed agoraphobia from those stupid groupies following her TOO CLOSE in this performance. Back off, groupies! Give Millie Small some space!


DONOVAN - MELLOW YELLOW

Well, here's those corporate executives, now retired; slapping on their headbands, firing up a doobie, and spending their Friday night at a Donovan concert! Plus, purple and yellow ARE the colors of the sixties generation! Where is Donovan today, you ask? I think he's probably shuffling out to his garden in his bathrobe, slightly demented, muttering something about "saffron". All good things must come to an end.


And now for something COMPLETELY different:


NEIL SEDAKA - BREAKING UP IS HARD TO DO

"Can you sing that one for us, Neil?"
"Oh man, and here I am, wearing my JC Penney undershirt! But OKAY, I'll give it a go!"
This song was from a much simpler time (as opposed to the "Donovan Time"). The only thing they were smoking back then was Chesterfield Non-Filtered. But boy, didn't Neil have jarringly white teeth?


BOBBY VEE - THE NIGHT HAS A THOUSAND EYES

Okay, Bobby is from Fargo, North Dakota, so I'm going to withhold any snarky comments about this video. And thankfully, it does end up better than it started. And Bobby is a family man; he's got kids who have followed in his footsteps, so this is just make-believe, people! Yet, I can't help but wonder how the producers sold this idea to Bobby. Because in hindsight, it really seems like a completely BAD concept.


BOBBY GENTRY - ODE TO BILLY JOE

Okay, frankly, after all these years, I'm SICK of trying to figure out what he was throwing off the bridge. What was he throwing off the bridge, DAMMIT? You don't even know, do you? You just made this up, and now here we are, all these years later, trying to solve a puzzle that has no answer. How diabolical, Bobby. The year was 1967. That's 41 years ago, and I still don't know what he was throwing off the bridge. Well, guess what? After all this time, I don't even CARE anymore. How's that?


EDDIE COCHRAN - SUMMERTIME BLUES

Ha ha! This wasn't even from the sixties! Psych! I just snuck this one in here because it's a great song, and I forgot to include it in my previous posts. But technically, since Eddie Cochran was a SOLO artist, it fits here. And this is one of the best rock and roll songs of all time, so there you go.

I always like to end my posts on an UP note.