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Post by rizzuto on Nov 11, 2023 11:08:11 GMT -5
This song has been haunting me the last few days:
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Post by inger on Nov 11, 2023 14:55:41 GMT -5
It's amusing how you can listen to an old song and sometimes really hear it for the first time: I was getting my first regular music exposure when Creedence was really big. If they had a new song every ear in neighborhood was listening, and if a CCR song came on the radio everybody shut up and listened until it was over. Then the Beatles dropped a bomb on the whole scene… |
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Post by inger on Nov 11, 2023 15:08:01 GMT -5
Never get tired of this song: It’s definitely aged well. It was bigger than the Hollies… The dongs I recall best from before Long Cool Women were Carrie Anne, and “He’s Not Heavy”, and afterward there was “The Air That I Breathe”, but they charted over a dozen songs. I liked Neil Diamond’s version of “He’s Not Heavy (he’s my brother) better. I even thought about singing it for the High School r talent show one year, but the pianist would have been the music teacher. We can a conflict on the timing of the vocals and was a bit of an ass about it instead of acting like a teacher. Funny thing about teaching is that it’s a lot easier to “teach” when the student can read music already. Oh well. Reading music is my downfall as a vocalist. I’m more of a stylist that wants to do songs my way… |
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Post by domeplease on Nov 12, 2023 17:13:28 GMT -5
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Post by pippsheadache on Nov 12, 2023 20:02:09 GMT -5
It's amusing how you can listen to an old song and sometimes really hear it for the first time: I don't think Creedence ever made a song I didn't like. When they first came out, I think most people assumed they were swamp rockers from down your way rather than an East Bay outfit. Just the subject matter --"Proud Mary" and "Born On The Bayou" and "Down On The Corner" -- would certainly give that impression. They were a really tight band in live performances and sounded just like the recordings. Nobody this side of Buddy Holly could get so much out of four or five chords. John Fogerty has always seemed like a very angry and difficult person, although most of his music is at least superficially upbeat. Even when he's ticked off, as in "Fortunate Son," it's still done with humor and energy. It's almost as if he didn't understand how good his music really was, that he wasn't "relevant" enough. He sure had issues with his brother and fellow bandmate Tom. Unfortunately I never got to see CCR in person. When I was living in Santa Clara in the early 70s, I did get to see Tom Fogerty playing in a band with Jerry Garcia and Merl Saunders. They played a bunch of small obscure venues all over the Bay Area, with Garcia I guess working it in between his Dead work. I saw them in some scruffy joint in Half Moon Bay, largely unpublicized, you sort of heard it through the grapevine. It was fascinating to watch this mash-up of talents. For whatever reason, Garcia was a booster of Tom Fogerty, although Tom's career outside of CCR never really went very far. |
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Post by pippsheadache on Nov 12, 2023 20:17:09 GMT -5
It's amusing how you can listen to an old song and sometimes really hear it for the first time: I was getting my first regular music exposure when Creedence was really big. If they had a new song every ear in neighborhood was listening, and if a CCR song came on the radio everybody shut up and listened until it was over. Then the Beatles dropped a bomb on the whole scene… Yep, Creedence had an unerring capacity to churn out hit songs. Their first two chart singles were covers of Dale Hawkins' "Susie-Q" from 1957 (Creedence changed the spelling to Suzie) and Screaming Jay Hawkins' "I Put A Spell On You" from 1956. Those songs came out in the summer and fall of 1968. Then in early 1969 the band really hit its stride with "Proud Mary," which to me will always be their signature song. Seemed like every few months they had another hit. Although really Creedence was becoming big just as The Beatles were in the home stretch of their career. Hah, remember Ike and Tina Turner's version of "Proud Mary"? A very different take, to say the least. I liked it, but the original was a classic. |
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Post by rizzuto on Nov 12, 2023 20:24:22 GMT -5
It's amusing how you can listen to an old song and sometimes really hear it for the first time: I don't think Creedence ever made a song I didn't like. When they first came out, I think most people assumed they were swamp rockers from down your way rather than an East Bay outfit. Just the subject matter --"Proud Mary" and "Born On The Bayou" and "Down On The Corner" -- would certainly give that impression. They were a really tight band in live performances and sounded just like the recordings. Nobody this side of Buddy Holly could get so much out of four or five chords. John Fogerty has always seemed like a very angry and difficult person, although most of his music is at least superficially upbeat. Even when he's ticked off, as in "Fortunate Son," it's still done with humor and energy. It's almost as if he didn't understand how good his music really was, that he wasn't "relevant" enough. He sure had issues with his brother and fellow bandmate Tom. Unfortunately I never got to see CCR in person. When I was living in Santa Clara in the early 70s, I did get to see Tom Fogerty playing in a band with Jerry Garcia and Merl Saunders. They played a bunch of small obscure venues all over the Bay Area, with Garcia I guess working it in between his Dead work. I saw them in some scruffy joint in Half Moon Bay, largely unpublicized, you sort of heard it through the grapevine. It was fascinating to watch this mash-up of talents. For whatever reason, Garcia was a booster of Tom Fogerty, although Tom's career outside of CCR never really went very far. Even more to your point, CCR's last album was "Mardi Gras," perhaps another nod to Louisiana. When I first remember CCR as a little boy, I simply assumed they were from Louisiana or at least the South proper. I guess a song like "Lodi" clued me in later when I drove through California for the first time. Like many children of alcoholics, there is usually enough anger for a lifetime, spilling over into unseen, latent arguments that arise spontaneously in relationship after relationship. My friends Jim and Bill Newman - brothers of alcoholic parents - both killed themselves after tumultuous, rollercoaster relationships and bouts with alcoholism themselves. Indeed, CCR had an upbeat vibe with a cutting edge hidden just below the lyrics and raw sound. After my father's funeral, Sarah and I decided to drive to Little Rock to see my friend Doug, then we would return to New Orleans for a couple days of just the two of us. On the road to Arkansas, the song "Someday Never Comes," played. Tears fell from my face in torrents, as if I had finally heard that song for the very first time. I just knew that John Fogerty had written that song with an ink well full of well-aged, childhood pain. Later, I looked up and found this explanation "Fogerty stated in 2013 that the song is about his parents' and his own divorce: When I wrote this song, my life was pretty chaotic. I knew my marriage was going to break up. My band was falling apart. I was beginning to sense the darkness that was Fantasy Records. This song was inspired by my parents' divorce when I was a young boy and the effect it had on me. At the time, they told me, "Someday, you'll understand." The truth of this is that you never do and I found myself facing this as a parent. The irony was painful and inescapable." |
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Post by pippsheadache on Nov 12, 2023 20:56:03 GMT -5
Never get tired of this song: It’s definitely aged well. It was bigger than the Hollies… The dongs I recall best from before Long Cool Women were Carrie Anne, and “He’s Not Heavy”, and afterward there was “The Air That I Breathe”, but they charted over a dozen songs. I liked Neil Diamond’s version of “He’s Not Heavy (he’s my brother) better. I even thought about singing it for the High School r talent show one year, but the pianist would have been the music teacher. We can a conflict on the timing of the vocals and was a bit of an ass about it instead of acting like a teacher. Funny thing about teaching is that it’s a lot easier to “teach” when the student can read music already. Oh well. Reading music is my downfall as a vocalist. I’m more of a stylist that wants to do songs my way… When I first heard "Long Cool Woman" I thought it was Creedence. It was of course The Hollies, moving in a very different direction after Graham Nash left the group in 1968. It was even the same lead singer they had always had, Allan Clarke, but without Nash's high harmonies the group sounded very different in "He Ain't Heavy" and "Air That I Breathe" and "Magic Woman Touch" and "Long Dark Road." It would make sense that you came in around the time of "Carrie Anne" in the summer of 1967; you would have been 13 which is about the age most kids get really interested in rock music. The Hollies, like The Searchers, were always bigger in the UK and Germany than in the US, but still they had a lot of hit records here. The first one I remember was early in the British Invasion in 1964 when they covered "Just One Look," which had been a hit for R&B singer/songwriter Doris Troy just a year earlier. But they had big hits like "Look Through Any Window" in 1965 and "Bus Stop" and "Stop Stop Stop" in 1966 and "On A Carousel" in addition to "Carrie Anne" in 1967. They were outstanding in live performances, especially given the complexity of their tight three-part harmonies of Clarke, Nash and lead guitarist Tony Hicks. And one of the best drummers of the era, Bobby Elliott. I am admittedly a Hollies enthusiast in part because I am a sucker for tight multi-part harmonies, so I followed their career pretty closely. Nash and Clarke were childhood friends from Manchester and sometimes it could be hard to tell which one was singing. Clarke did most of the lead vocals, but the group was so harmony-driven that it didn't matter that much who was doing the melody. The only Hollies hit where Nash sang lead was "On A Carousel." One of the many things I liked about "Carrie Anne" was that the three singers each took a verse -- Clarke the first, Hicks the second and Nash the third, although Nash's high harmonies really elevate the song. I don't recall too many rock songs that were using steel drums back then. Nash wrote that song as a sort of tribute to Marianne Faithfull -- changing Marianne to Carrie Anne -- who was having a fling with Clarke at the time. I did prefer the Nash-era Hollies to the post-Nash Hollies, but the original version covered my high school years and those are the years for which most people have the strongest emotional ties to music. Don't know if you already knew this, but on their version of "He Ain't Heavy" an aspiring session musician named Elton John is playing piano. Just to put "Long Cool Woman" in context -- right around the same time that was out, other big hits were "Lean On Me" by Bill Withers, "It's Too Late To Turn Back Now" by The Cornelius Brothers and Sister Rose, "Rocket Man" by Elton John, "Alone Again Naturally" by Gilbert O'Sullivan, "School's Out" by Alice Cooper, "Take It Easy" by The Eagles, "Troglodyte" by The Jimmy Castor Bunch, "Conquistador" by Procol Harum, "I Need You" by America, "Nice To Be With You" by Gallery, "Put The Lime In The Coconut" by Nilsson, "Hold Your Head Up" by Argent, "How Do You Do" by Mouth and Macneal, "Oh Girl" by The Chi-Lites and -- I can barely bring myself to say it -- "The Candy Man" by Sammy Davis Jr. Early summer of 1972, extremely vivid to me because I had just moved across country to California and pretty much anything that happened around that time is seared in my brain. I would think a few of you here would remember that time very well. |
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Post by pippsheadache on Nov 12, 2023 21:01:23 GMT -5
I don't think Creedence ever made a song I didn't like. When they first came out, I think most people assumed they were swamp rockers from down your way rather than an East Bay outfit. Just the subject matter --"Proud Mary" and "Born On The Bayou" and "Down On The Corner" -- would certainly give that impression. They were a really tight band in live performances and sounded just like the recordings. Nobody this side of Buddy Holly could get so much out of four or five chords. John Fogerty has always seemed like a very angry and difficult person, although most of his music is at least superficially upbeat. Even when he's ticked off, as in "Fortunate Son," it's still done with humor and energy. It's almost as if he didn't understand how good his music really was, that he wasn't "relevant" enough. He sure had issues with his brother and fellow bandmate Tom. Unfortunately I never got to see CCR in person. When I was living in Santa Clara in the early 70s, I did get to see Tom Fogerty playing in a band with Jerry Garcia and Merl Saunders. They played a bunch of small obscure venues all over the Bay Area, with Garcia I guess working it in between his Dead work. I saw them in some scruffy joint in Half Moon Bay, largely unpublicized, you sort of heard it through the grapevine. It was fascinating to watch this mash-up of talents. For whatever reason, Garcia was a booster of Tom Fogerty, although Tom's career outside of CCR never really went very far. Even more to your point, CCR's last album was "Mardi Gras," perhaps another nod to Louisiana. When I first remember CCR as a little boy, I simply assumed they were from Louisiana or at least the South proper. I guess a song like "Lodi" clued me in later when I drove through California for the first time. Like many children of alcoholics, there is usually enough anger for a lifetime, spilling over into unseen, latent arguments that arise spontaneously in relationship after relationship. My friends Jim and Bill Newman - brothers of alcoholic parents - both killed themselves after tumultuous, rollercoaster relationships and bouts with alcoholism themselves. Indeed, CCR had an upbeat vibe with a cutting edge hidden just below the lyrics and raw sound. After my father's funeral, Sarah and I decided to drive to Little Rock to see my friend Doug, then we would return to New Orleans for a couple days of just the two of us. On the road to Arkansas, the song "Someday Never Comes," played. Tears fell from my face in torrents, as if I had finally heard that song for the very first time. I just knew that John Fogerty had written that song with an ink well full of well-aged, childhood pain. Later, I looked up and found this explanation "Fogerty stated in 2013 that the song is about his parents' and his own divorce: When I wrote this song, my life was pretty chaotic. I knew my marriage was going to break up. My band was falling apart. I was beginning to sense the darkness that was Fantasy Records. This song was inspired by my parents' divorce when I was a young boy and the effect it had on me. At the time, they told me, "Someday, you'll understand." The truth of this is that you never do and I found myself facing this as a parent. The irony was painful and inescapable." Wow, good info Rizz. I never knew that about Fogerty. It certainly does explain some things. I will say I invariably smile at "Centerfield." Of course that was solo Fogerty post-CCR. He was a great rocker. |
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Post by rizzuto on Nov 12, 2023 22:06:16 GMT -5
Even more to your point, CCR's last album was "Mardi Gras," perhaps another nod to Louisiana. When I first remember CCR as a little boy, I simply assumed they were from Louisiana or at least the South proper. I guess a song like "Lodi" clued me in later when I drove through California for the first time. Like many children of alcoholics, there is usually enough anger for a lifetime, spilling over into unseen, latent arguments that arise spontaneously in relationship after relationship. My friends Jim and Bill Newman - brothers of alcoholic parents - both killed themselves after tumultuous, rollercoaster relationships and bouts with alcoholism themselves. Indeed, CCR had an upbeat vibe with a cutting edge hidden just below the lyrics and raw sound. After my father's funeral, Sarah and I decided to drive to Little Rock to see my friend Doug, then we would return to New Orleans for a couple days of just the two of us. On the road to Arkansas, the song "Someday Never Comes," played. Tears fell from my face in torrents, as if I had finally heard that song for the very first time. I just knew that John Fogerty had written that song with an ink well full of well-aged, childhood pain. Later, I looked up and found this explanation "Fogerty stated in 2013 that the song is about his parents' and his own divorce: When I wrote this song, my life was pretty chaotic. I knew my marriage was going to break up. My band was falling apart. I was beginning to sense the darkness that was Fantasy Records. This song was inspired by my parents' divorce when I was a young boy and the effect it had on me. At the time, they told me, "Someday, you'll understand." The truth of this is that you never do and I found myself facing this as a parent. The irony was painful and inescapable." Wow, good info Rizz. I never knew that about Fogerty. It certainly does explain some things. I will say I invariably smile at "Centerfield." Of course that was solo Fogerty post-CCR. He was a great rocker. I remember one of my roommates when I was living off campus was James O'Hara. He and an irritating friend of his got into an argument about the lyrics to "Centerfield." Long before the Internet, they argued for weeks. Jimbo stating that Fogerty was singing, "Put me in coach..." and his friend convinced the line was "Put me in Co..." - sort of like a shortened version of coach. I think I have intentionally forgotten that guy's name - I really couldn't stand him. |
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Post by inger on Nov 12, 2023 22:17:08 GMT -5
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Post by inger on Nov 12, 2023 22:23:56 GMT -5
I don't think Creedence ever made a song I didn't like. When they first came out, I think most people assumed they were swamp rockers from down your way rather than an East Bay outfit. Just the subject matter --"Proud Mary" and "Born On The Bayou" and "Down On The Corner" -- would certainly give that impression. They were a really tight band in live performances and sounded just like the recordings. Nobody this side of Buddy Holly could get so much out of four or five chords. John Fogerty has always seemed like a very angry and difficult person, although most of his music is at least superficially upbeat. Even when he's ticked off, as in "Fortunate Son," it's still done with humor and energy. It's almost as if he didn't understand how good his music really was, that he wasn't "relevant" enough. He sure had issues with his brother and fellow bandmate Tom. Unfortunately I never got to see CCR in person. When I was living in Santa Clara in the early 70s, I did get to see Tom Fogerty playing in a band with Jerry Garcia and Merl Saunders. They played a bunch of small obscure venues all over the Bay Area, with Garcia I guess working it in between his Dead work. I saw them in some scruffy joint in Half Moon Bay, largely unpublicized, you sort of heard it through the grapevine. It was fascinating to watch this mash-up of talents. For whatever reason, Garcia was a booster of Tom Fogerty, although Tom's career outside of CCR never really went very far. Even more to your point, CCR's last album was "Mardi Gras," perhaps another nod to Louisiana. When I first remember CCR as a little boy, I simply assumed they were from Louisiana or at least the South proper. I guess a song like "Lodi" clued me in later when I drove through California for the first time. Like many children of alcoholics, there is usually enough anger for a lifetime, spilling over into unseen, latent arguments that arise spontaneously in relationship after relationship. My friends Jim and Bill Newman - brothers of alcoholic parents - both killed themselves after tumultuous, rollercoaster relationships and bouts with alcoholism themselves. Indeed, CCR had an upbeat vibe with a cutting edge hidden just below the lyrics and raw sound. After my father's funeral, Sarah and I decided to drive to Little Rock to see my friend Doug, then we would return to New Orleans for a couple days of just the two of us. On the road to Arkansas, the song "Someday Never Comes," played. Tears fell from my face in torrents, as if I had finally heard that song for the very first time. I just knew that John Fogerty had written that song with an ink well full of well-aged, childhood pain. Later, I looked up and found this explanation "Fogerty stated in 2013 that the song is about his parents' and his own divorce: When I wrote this song, my life was pretty chaotic. I knew my marriage was going to break up. My band was falling apart. I was beginning to sense the darkness that was Fantasy Records. This song was inspired by my parents' divorce when I was a young boy and the effect it had on me. At the time, they told me, "Someday, you'll understand." The truth of this is that you never do and I found myself facing this as a parent. The irony was painful and inescapable." I feel that pain, too. I have put it as far into the nether reaches of my mind, but sometimes it escapes and enters my thoughts. Mostly the PTSD from the end of my greenhouse days is the one I struggle with, but I’m learning to calm my mind with the reminder to live in the moment and to worry only about those things in my circle ⭕️ of influence. Perhaps writing a song helped Fogerty to release that stress… |
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Post by inger on Nov 12, 2023 22:32:41 GMT -5
It’s definitely aged well. It was bigger than the Hollies… The dongs I recall best from before Long Cool Women were Carrie Anne, and “He’s Not Heavy”, and afterward there was “The Air That I Breathe”, but they charted over a dozen songs. I liked Neil Diamond’s version of “He’s Not Heavy (he’s my brother) better. I even thought about singing it for the High School r talent show one year, but the pianist would have been the music teacher. We can a conflict on the timing of the vocals and was a bit of an ass about it instead of acting like a teacher. Funny thing about teaching is that it’s a lot easier to “teach” when the student can read music already. Oh well. Reading music is my downfall as a vocalist. I’m more of a stylist that wants to do songs my way… When I first heard "Long Cool Woman" I thought it was Creedence. It was of course The Hollies, moving in a very different direction after Graham Nash left the group in 1968. It was even the same lead singer they had always had, Allan Clarke, but without Nash's high harmonies the group sounded very different in "He Ain't Heavy" and "Air That I Breathe" and "Magic Woman Touch" and "Long Dark Road." It would make sense that you came in around the time of "Carrie Anne" in the summer of 1967; you would have been 13 which is about the age most kids get really interested in rock music. The Hollies, like The Searchers, were always bigger in the UK and Germany than in the US, but still they had a lot of hit records here. The first one I remember was early in the British Invasion in 1964 when they covered "Just One Look," which had been a hit for R&B singer/songwriter Doris Troy just a year earlier. But they had big hits like "Look Through Any Window" in 1965 and "Bus Stop" and "Stop Stop Stop" in 1966 and "On A Carousel" in addition to "Carrie Anne" in 1967. They were outstanding in live performances, especially given the complexity of their tight three-part harmonies of Clarke, Nash and lead guitarist Tony Hicks. And one of the best drummers of the era, Bobby Elliott. I am admittedly a Hollies enthusiast in part because I am a sucker for tight multi-part harmonies, so I followed their career pretty closely. Nash and Clarke were childhood friends from Manchester and sometimes it could be hard to tell which one was singing. Clarke did most of the lead vocals, but the group was so harmony-driven that it didn't matter that much who was doing the melody. The only Hollies hit where Nash sang lead was "On A Carousel." One of the many things I liked about "Carrie Anne" was that the three singers each took a verse -- Clarke the first, Hicks the second and Nash the third, although Nash's high harmonies really elevate the song. I don't recall too many rock songs that were using steel drums back then. Nash wrote that song as a sort of tribute to Marianne Faithfull -- changing Marianne to Carrie Anne -- who was having a fling with Clarke at the time. I did prefer the Nash-era Hollies to the post-Nash Hollies, but the original version covered my high school years and those are the years for which most people have the strongest emotional ties to music. Don't know if you already knew this, but on their version of "He Ain't Heavy" an aspiring session musician named Elton John is playing piano. Just to put "Long Cool Woman" in context -- right around the same time that was out, other big hits were "Lean On Me" by Bill Withers, "It's Too Late To Turn Back Now" by The Cornelius Brothers and Sister Rose, "Rocket Man" by Elton John, "Alone Again Naturally" by Gilbert O'Sullivan, "School's Out" by Alice Cooper, "Take It Easy" by The Eagles, "Troglodyte" by The Jimmy Castor Bunch, "Conquistador" by Procol Harum, "I Need You" by America, "Nice To Be With You" by Gallery, "Put The Lime In The Coconut" by Nilsson, "Hold Your Head Up" by Argent, "How Do You Do" by Mouth and Macneal, "Oh Girl" by The Chi-Lites and -- I can barely bring myself to say it -- "The Candy Man" by Sammy Davis Jr. Early summer of 1972, extremely vivid to me because I had just moved across country to California and pretty much anything that happened around that time is seared in my brain. I would think a few of you here would remember that time very well. 1967 was the year I would stand a tiny work station in back of the news stand and fold my newspapers before hitting the streets on my delivery route to earn my $1.35 per week. The older kids were plunking money in the juke box, so what they liked is what I heard. “I Think We’re Alone Now” was huge that year. Must have heard it a thousand times. I knew all the lyrics to most of those ‘67 hits you mentioned and was just discovering that I could actually sing. Groups with a lot of harmony could be frustrating at that point, damn those Beatles anyway! … |
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Post by pippsheadache on Nov 13, 2023 13:05:58 GMT -5
When I first heard "Long Cool Woman" I thought it was Creedence. It was of course The Hollies, moving in a very different direction after Graham Nash left the group in 1968. It was even the same lead singer they had always had, Allan Clarke, but without Nash's high harmonies the group sounded very different in "He Ain't Heavy" and "Air That I Breathe" and "Magic Woman Touch" and "Long Dark Road." It would make sense that you came in around the time of "Carrie Anne" in the summer of 1967; you would have been 13 which is about the age most kids get really interested in rock music. The Hollies, like The Searchers, were always bigger in the UK and Germany than in the US, but still they had a lot of hit records here. The first one I remember was early in the British Invasion in 1964 when they covered "Just One Look," which had been a hit for R&B singer/songwriter Doris Troy just a year earlier. But they had big hits like "Look Through Any Window" in 1965 and "Bus Stop" and "Stop Stop Stop" in 1966 and "On A Carousel" in addition to "Carrie Anne" in 1967. They were outstanding in live performances, especially given the complexity of their tight three-part harmonies of Clarke, Nash and lead guitarist Tony Hicks. And one of the best drummers of the era, Bobby Elliott. I am admittedly a Hollies enthusiast in part because I am a sucker for tight multi-part harmonies, so I followed their career pretty closely. Nash and Clarke were childhood friends from Manchester and sometimes it could be hard to tell which one was singing. Clarke did most of the lead vocals, but the group was so harmony-driven that it didn't matter that much who was doing the melody. The only Hollies hit where Nash sang lead was "On A Carousel." One of the many things I liked about "Carrie Anne" was that the three singers each took a verse -- Clarke the first, Hicks the second and Nash the third, although Nash's high harmonies really elevate the song. I don't recall too many rock songs that were using steel drums back then. Nash wrote that song as a sort of tribute to Marianne Faithfull -- changing Marianne to Carrie Anne -- who was having a fling with Clarke at the time. I did prefer the Nash-era Hollies to the post-Nash Hollies, but the original version covered my high school years and those are the years for which most people have the strongest emotional ties to music. Don't know if you already knew this, but on their version of "He Ain't Heavy" an aspiring session musician named Elton John is playing piano. Just to put "Long Cool Woman" in context -- right around the same time that was out, other big hits were "Lean On Me" by Bill Withers, "It's Too Late To Turn Back Now" by The Cornelius Brothers and Sister Rose, "Rocket Man" by Elton John, "Alone Again Naturally" by Gilbert O'Sullivan, "School's Out" by Alice Cooper, "Take It Easy" by The Eagles, "Troglodyte" by The Jimmy Castor Bunch, "Conquistador" by Procol Harum, "I Need You" by America, "Nice To Be With You" by Gallery, "Put The Lime In The Coconut" by Nilsson, "Hold Your Head Up" by Argent, "How Do You Do" by Mouth and Macneal, "Oh Girl" by The Chi-Lites and -- I can barely bring myself to say it -- "The Candy Man" by Sammy Davis Jr. Early summer of 1972, extremely vivid to me because I had just moved across country to California and pretty much anything that happened around that time is seared in my brain. I would think a few of you here would remember that time very well. 1967 was the year I would stand a tiny work station in back of the news stand and fold my newspapers before hitting the streets on my delivery route to earn my $1.35 per week. The older kids were plunking money in the juke box, so what they liked is what I heard. “I Think We’re Alone Now” was huge that year. Must have heard it a thousand times. I knew all the lyrics to most of those ‘67 hits you mentioned and was just discovering that I could actually sing. Groups with a lot of harmony could be frustrating at that point, damn those Beatles anyway! … Nice story Inger. Yep, "I Think We're Alone Now" by Tommy James and The Shondells was in the spring of 1967. It was considered mildly risque for that more innocent (but rapidly becoming less so) era. Okay I can't resist this stuff, at that same time other hit songs included "Happy Together" by The Turtles, "A Little Bit Me, A Little Bit You" by The Monkees, "Western Union" by The Five Americans, "This Is My Song" by Petula Clark, "Sweet Soul Music" by Arthur Conley, "Bernadette" by The Four Tops, "Jimmy Mack" by Martha and The Vandellas, "The Happening" by The Supremes, "Penny Lane" by The Beatles, "Don't You Care" by The Buckinghams, "At The Zoo" by Simon and Garfunkel, "You Got What It Takes" by The Dave Clark Five, "There's A Kind Of Hush" by Hermans Hermits, "On A Carousel" by The Hollies and "Friday On My Mind" by The Easybeats, which may be my favorite of the whole bunch. "This Is My Song" was written by Charlie Chaplin. I sincerely doubt that back in the 1920s when he was making silent films like "The Gold Rush" and "The Kid" that he could have imagined that over 40 years later he would have a Billboard Top Ten hit. And Buffalo Springfield was just coming together in a short but very influential run. The three principal guys in that group -- Stephen Stills, Neil Young and Richie Furay -- are all still living. Man, what a great time to have a great time. Still seems like just a few months ago to me. |
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Post by pippsheadache on Nov 13, 2023 13:10:27 GMT -5
I wonder if he still sings "Old Man?" |
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