Category Archives: 1960s

The Essentials: Dusty Springfield – Complete A and B Sides 1963-1970

(As noted in my first Essentials entry, this is an occasional series in which I spotlight albums that, in my estimation, everyone should experience at least once in their life. Also, although the primary focus is on unique albums, from time-to-time must-have collections – such as the one below – will be spotlighted.)

By my count, some 34 Dusty Springfield compilations have been released through the years, with about a half dozen still being in print. Most, obviously, collect her hits; others, such as the box sets or double-disc collections, mix in pertinent album tracks and/or rarities; and yet others hone in on specific years or recording sessions, such as the delightful Come for a Dream: The U.K. Sessions 1970-71.

The Complete A and B Sides, which was released in 2006, takes a different tack. Compiled by Saint Etienne’s Bob Stanley, it features Dusty’s original British singles on Disc 1 and the original B-sides on Disc 2 – and most feature the original mono mixes.

Mono, of course, uses one channel so that what one hears out of each speaker will be exactly the same. Stereo, on the other hand, expands the soundscape to two channels – a right and a left. A guitar may be heard coming from the right speaker and not from the left, for example. One isn’t intrinsically better than the other, though – these days – stereo is the norm.

The further back in time one travels, however – like, say, to the 1960s – the more likely it is that the original release was mono; and that stereo versions of the same recordings, if available, were afterthoughts. The Beatles’ Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band is probably the greatest example: John Lennon and Paul McCartney were hands-on for the mono mix, spending about three weeks to get everything exactly right. The stereo mix, however, was created without their input over the course of two days.

While Dusty’s productions never matched that of Sgt. Pepper, one can argue that her emotional acumen did, in fact, rival theirs. And the original mono mixes of her material are – as the back cover says – “punchy.” They just sound more alive. (That’s not always the case, however; though some tracks sound as good as their stereo counterparts, as a whole the mono Dusty in Memphis sounds flatter and duller.)

Anyway, that’s really getting beside the point of this essential pick: Each disc is a great set unto itself. Yes, the A-side half lacks a few of her stateside hits, such as “Wishin’ and Hopin’,” because they weren’t released as singles in Britain; but the B-side half more than makes up for it with such overlooked wonders as “Summer Is Over”…

…“Don’t Say It Baby”…

…and “I’m Gonna Leave You,” the flip side to one of her greatest singles…

…the Goffin-King classic “Goin’ Back.”

(That’s the stereo version above, I should mention; YouTube doesn’t have the mono. For shame, YouTube. For shame!)

Here’s another oft-overlooked A-side:

Here’s the track listing in full:

 

Today’s Top 3: Monterey Pop

June 16th, 1967 was a momentous day in the world of rock ’n’ roll: the three-day Monterey International Pop Music Festival kicked off.

Wikipedia provides the specifics for the now-legendary event, so I’ll skip listing each and every act that partook in the weekend. Among them, however, were such stalwarts as Simon & Garfunkel, Big Brother and the Holding Company, the Byrds, Laura Nyro, Jefferson Airplane, Otis Redding, Buffalo Springfield, the Who, Jimi Hendrix, and the Mamas & the Papas.

(I say “stalwarts” but, of course, several of those acts wouldn’t have been described as such at the time. And no act was considered legendary. “Legendary” and “rock ‘n’ roll” weren’t believed to go together.)

In any event, D.A. Pennebacker filmed the festivities for what became the beloved Monterey Pop concert doc. Big Brother’s manager didn’t want the unknown group filmed without getting paid, so ordered the crew to turn off the cameras; Janis Joplin, their lead singer, so wowed the crowd on Saturday afternoon, however, that she and the group were talked into returning the next day and performing for the cameras.

It was also an inexpensive proposition. How much would a similar three-day fest set you back today? According to the Inflation Calculator, the top ticket ($6.50) should now cost $47.63 – but that’s before the Ticketmaster/Live Nation overlords, and unfettered greed, play their part. In reality, it’d likely set you back $150-$200 a night.

All in all, the weekend was – in a word – groovy; and in two words, really groovy. 

So, with that in mind, here’s today’s Top 3: Monterey Pop. As in, highlights from each of the three days…

1) Friday:

Eric Burdon and the Animals – “Paint It Black.” Burdon & Co. cover the Stones.

Simon & Garfunkel – “The Sound of Silence.” Why this stupendous rendition of this timeless song wasn’t included in the movie proper, who knows? (It’s now a bonus on the DVD/blu-ray release.)

2) Saturday:

The Byrds – “He Was a Friend of Mine.” David Crosby’s impromptu rap in this clip supposedly ruffled the feathers of Mssrs. McGuinn and Hillman. And the set was the last time he performed with them…

Laura Nyro – “Wedding Bell Blues/Poverty Train.” The lore surrounding Laura Nyro’s appearance is that she was booed…but it was less being booed and more being ignored for reasons that had little to do with her. No one knew who she was, as was the case for other acts, but she was backed by a band she’d rehearsed with just once – and, as a result, her delicate music became something of a sludge hammer. That said, the bonus clips on the DVD/blu-ray are well worth watching – the camera picked up the magic that the audience missed.

Jefferson Airplane – “Somebody to Love.” The Airplane was flying high this pre-summer’s night thanks to the success of this song, which soared to No. 5 on the charts this weekend.

Otis Redding – “I’ve Been Loving You Too Long.” Another timeless performance.

3) Sunday:

Big Brother and the Holding Company – “Ball & Chain.” Does it get any better than this? The band’s performance is raw and ragged, but backing that voice…as Mama Cass says at the end, “wow.”

Buffalo Springfield – “For What It’s Worth.” David Crosby substituted for an AWOL Neil Young in the Springfield’s set, which didn’t sit well with his fellow Byrds…

The Who – “My Generation.” So the Who and Jimi Hendrix flipped a coin to see who followed who… and the Who lost. The poor Grateful Dead were stuck between them – and made to seem all the more boring my comparison.

Jimi Hendrix – “Hey Joe.” Well…a full performance on YouTube of Hendrix’s infamous “Wild Thing,” which culminated with him lighting his guitar on fire, isn’t to be found. This incendiary rendition of “Hey Joe” is, however.

The Mamas & the Papas – “California Dreamin’.” The Mamas & the Papas following Hendrix, the Dead and the Who just seems…weird in the context of what we now know. But at the time? They were the hippie kings and queens of the Monterey Pop castle to three acts few were aware of.

 

The (un)Essentials – Jan & Dean’s Folk ’n Roll

(As noted in my first Essentials entry, this is an occasional series in which I spotlight albums that, in my estimation, everyone should experience at least once in their life.)

Like many a child of the ‘70s, my introduction to the surf-rock stylings of Jan & Dean came by way of oldies radio. In my case, it was Michael St. John’s Saturday-night show on WPEN-AM in Philadelphia, which I tuned in after Elvis Presley’s death. I picked up a few double A-sided singles of theirs from the Hatboro Music Shop and, like many of my classmates, was blown away by Deadman’s Curve, the made-for-TV biopic about them that aired on CBS on Feb. 3, 1978.

I was 12 years old. Soon enough my attention would be diverted elsewhere – but I never forgot about their music, which I found funny, sly and just plain good. A year or three later, in fact, I wound up picking up their two-LP Anthology. Not only did it collect their best work, aka their hits, but it also included their versions of two Beach Boys songs (“Surfin’ Safari” and “Little Deuce Coupe”) and two Beatles songs (“Michelle” and “You’ve Got to Hide My Love Away”).

Fast forward a few more years, to the end of 1984: I’m browsing the used and rare vinyl in Memory Lane Records in Horsham and come across Early L.A., a compilation that featured pre-fame recordings by Dino Valenti, David Crosby, the Byrds and Canned Heat… and Jan & Dean’s 1965 LP Folk ’n Roll, which found the duo trading in their surfboards for fringed jackets.

The mid-‘60s were a difficult time for established acts, remember. Times and tastes were changing at a rapid clip, and veterans were doing whatever they could to hold onto the spotlight. Folk ’n Roll is a perfect example of that. It’s not a great album, though it has a few good-great moments; and, title aside, it’s less folk-rock and more pop-folk, with a dose of attempted satire tossed into the mix.

That said, the opener – “I Found a Girl” – could’ve been released at any point in the preceding years …

I should mention that it was co-written by the legendary P.F. Sloan and partner Steve Barri, who worked with Jan Berry often in those days. (That’s Sloan’s falsetto on “The Little Old Lady from Pasadena,” in fact.) “Where Were You When I Needed You,” which closes the first side, is also theirs; and has more of a folk-rock feel…

“Where Were You” was a hit for the Grass Roots the following year, of course; that group was created after Sloan-Barri’s demo began receiving airplay sometime in 1965. The Jan & Dean version falls between the demo and the official Grass Roots release, I believe. I should add that its similarity to Sloan’s “Eve of Destruction” is even more pronounced here because “Eve” falls two songs earlier on this album side.

Part of what I find to be the kitschy charm of Folk ‘n Roll comes from the earnest unease that the duo have with the material. They don’t sound comfortable with the slowed folk-rock beat or ringing Rickenbacker, for example, though their harmonies remain a joy to hear…

…and, yet, the album is eminently listenable – even the one misfire, “A Beginning from an End,” about a man seeing his late wife in his daughter. That sounds sweet, and it is – up until the spoken interlude, when he recalls the wife’s death during childbirth. “I felt so all alone as they wheeled you through the doors and told me to wait….” (In some respects, that interlude conjures “Deadman’s Curve.”) The song sounds great until you listen to the lyrics, basically. And once you do? It becomes awkward. And crass. Let’s leave it there.

Well, let’s not. Here it is:

Likewise, their attempt at satire with “The Universal Coward” falls flat – the song is similar, in a sense, to “Ballad of the Yellow Beret,” the parody of Sgt. Barry Sadler’s “Ballad of the Green Beret” that featured a young Bob Seger. (In their defense: Neither possessed crystal balls that foretold what was to come.) More funny: the back cover picture of a new “potest” movement:

And, too, the title tune – which borrows its melody from “Surf City” – is a funny delight. Unlike “Coward,” it pokes affectionate fun at the folk-rock scene.

So, in short: Not a great album (thus it’s “(un)essential designation”), but an interesting listen, all the same.

To hear the album in full (and with commercials):