Posts Tagged ‘Dave Dudley’

On to YouTube!

June 5, 2015

Originally posted June 11, 2009

Looking for a video of Rolf Harris perfoming “Tie Me Kangaroo Down, Sport,” I found something that, to me, is astounding. It’s a recording – with no video, but that’s okay – of Harris singing his hit song with the Beatles, most likely in 1963. It’s a little ragged, but the best thing is that the lyrics have been changed to reflect the session. Give it a listen:

Here’s a television performance by Dave Dudley of “Six Days On The Road.” It’s from his appearance on the National Life Grand Old Opry on October 28, 1966.

And to close the video portion of today’s post, here’s George Harrison and Leon Russell performing “Beware of Darkness” at 1971’s Concert for Bangladesh:

Bonus Track
In yesterday’s post, I said of Bobby Bare’s “Detroit City” that there were probably hundreds of songs in which the narrator realizes how good things were at home “but I doubt if any of them are as twangy as Bare’s.” Frequent commenters Yah Shure and Oldetymer suggested several songs with similar themes, and Oldetymer added that Hazel Dickens’ “West Virginia My Home” might top Bare’s song for twang.

I don’t have a recording of Dickens performing the song on her own, but I have a version she recorded with her frequent partner, Alice Gerard, from the 1976 album Hazel Dickens and Alice Gerard. And it’s pretty down-home.

When I made my comment, I was actually referring to the guitar figure that opened Bare’s record, but Oldetymer has done a service by reminding me of Dickens and her music, which is very much aligned with the sounds and places from which she, and country music, came. When you listen to Dickens, you’re hearing what a great deal of American music sounded like in 1927 when the Carter Family – A.P., Sara and Maybelle Carter – made their ways from Maces Spring, Virginia, to Bristol, Tennessee, for their first recording sessions, sessions that are said to have been the birthpoint of country music records.

There is, thus, an entirely different aesthetic to the music Dickens has recorded. (She turned seventy-four earlier this month.) Not to put too fine a point on it, but this is the sound of the past:

Summer Enrichment

January 16, 2015

Originally posted June 10, 2009

Summertime in the early and mid-1960s wasn’t just for fun. There was school, too. Every summer, from the time I was six until I was, oh, fourteen, I went to summer school to learn about stuff I didn’t get a chance to learn about during the school year.

Sometimes that was okay, as those things went. I remember taking Spanish for a couple of summers. (The only thing that has stayed with me is “Hola, Paco! Que tal?” I think that translates loosely into “How goes it, Joe?” and is a fairly useless bit of knowledge.) I took a class in World War II history and a couple of drama workshops. Those came during the last few years of summer school, when I was in junior high school. My first summer school experiences came on the campus at St. Cloud State.

There was, at the time, an elementary school on campus, the Campus Laboratory School, which the School of Education used to help train teachers. Like the public schools, the Lab School’s academic year ended in spring, but the college had classes year-round. So in order to have elementary students for the college education students to teach, the Campus Lab ran summer school programs. And I was one of the laboratory subjects for a couple of summers very early during my elementary school days. I remember very little of the subjects we covered during those eight week-sessions. But I remember the oddness of being in a different school, with different types of furnishings than we had at Lincoln Elementary (which reflected, though I did not know this, a different and more experimental approach to education than was used in the public schools). The Campus Lab School seemed like an alien environment, fascinating but unsettling as well.

I also recall a portion of two summers spent in classes at Washington Elementary, on the city’s south side. These particular summer gatherings were called “enrichment” programs and took place, I think, during the summers after fourth and fifth grades, in 1963 and 1964. Just a few kids from each of the city’s elementary schools – those judged to have the most academic potential – were pulled into the program each summer. (Not being certain of current educational lingo, I imagine we’d be called “gifted” these days.) During one of those two summers, our class studied the state of Alaska: its history, culture, geography, the whole works. Among our projects during the summer was to build – with flexible wood strips for the frame, covered with white paper – an igloo.

There is, in one of the boxes of stuff I’ve carried with me over the years, a newspaper clipping with a picture of that summer school class posing by its igloo. There, at the right end of the front row, with brutally short hair and a pair of new black-rimmed glasses, is a little whiteray.

Fourth Grade Summer Enrichment Class at Washington Elementary, St. Cloud, Summer 1963.

The kids around me from St. Cloud’s other schools were still no more than friendly strangers, but a couple of years ago, I looked at the picture for the first time in years, and I realized that almost all of those kids were the ones that populated my classes in high school, in the college prep program. We were our grade’s version, God help us, of the best and the brightest. That doesn’t alter the fact that I looked like a dork.

As I said, I think that was in either 1963 or 1964. So here are some tunes from early June in the first of those two years.

A Six-Pack From The Charts (Billboard Hot 100, June 15, 1963)
“It’s My Party” by Lesley Gore, Mercury 72119 (No. 2)
“Come And Get These Memories” by Martha & the Vandellas, Gordy 7014 (No. 32)
“Tie Me Kangaroo Down, Sport” by Rolf Harris, Epic 9596 (No. 58)
“Six Days On The Road” by Dave Dudley, Golden Wing 3020 (No. 75)
“Detroit City” by Bobby Bare, RCA 8183 (No. 87)
“Needles and Pins” by Jackie DeShannon, Liberty 55563 (No. 114)

One of these six was omnipresent enough for me to remember hearing it frequently, though I was not a pop-radio listener, and another of them was quirky enough for me to recall it. The single that was everywhere was, of course, Lesley Gore’s “It’s My Party,” which had spent the previous two weeks at No. 1. (Oddly enough, the record was No. 1 for three weeks on the R&B chart.) How omnipresent was it? Well, my sister rarely bought current singles. When seventeen-year-old Lesley Gore’s first single hit, however, my sister went out and got herself a copy of it. But it wasn’t just our house: The record had such an amazingly simple and effective hook – “It’s my party, and I’ll cry if I want to.” – that it couldn’t help but insinuate itself into the broader grown-up culture that existed parallel to teen culture of the time. To put it more simply, even adults knew the record, and that was a rare thing at that time.

The other of these six that I recall hearing was the silly “Tie Me Kangaroo Down Sport” by Aussie Rolf Harris. Being nine and unaware of Aussie usage, however, I struggled with the meaning of the title. Why did the singer want himself tied down? Like a kangaroo? As catchy as the song was, it didn’t make any sense to me. I just didn’t understand the song (and that was certainly not the last time that’s happened over the years). Harris’ record eventually climbed into the Top 40 and stayed there for nine weeks, peaking at No. 3. The Billboard Book of Top 40 Hits notes that the record was No. 1 for three weeks on the Adult Contemporary Chart, and that makes me wonder when the AC chart started. I’d always thought it was far more recent than that. (Someone out there knows the answer, I’m sure.)

“Come And Get These Memories” was the first hit for Martha Reeves and her girls, who ended up having twelve records reach the Top 40 between 1963 and 1967. During the second week of June, “Memories” was sliding back down the chart, having peaked at No. 29 a week earlier. The record was well-done but sounded pretty much the same as a lot of girl group records, to my ears. That would change for Martha and the Vandellas with their next hit, as “Heat Wave” exploded out of the speakers and into the Top Ten in August.

I’ve shared Dave Dudley’s “Six Days On The Road” here before, but it was a year and a half ago, and that’s an eternity in blogtime. At that time, I decided that Dudley’s hit was likely the most influential record ever recorded in Minnesota, and nothing I’ve heard or read since then has changed that view. The record spent just four weeks in the Top 40 and peaked at No. 32, but it went to No. 2 on the country chart and – as I noted in the earlier post – was the granddaddy of a whole lot of songs about truckers and their rigs. (Does that mean that without “Six Days,” there might have been no “Convoy” in 1975? I tend to think so.)

Bobby Bare’s “Detroit City,” which is about as country as they came in 1963, is another song that falls neatly into a genre. I imagine you could call it the “Wizard of Oz” or “There’s No Place Like Home” genre. In Bare’s song, it’s the story of the boy who left home for better things in the city and found out, sadly, that home is better. There are, I imagine, hundreds of such songs (nominations, anyone?), but I doubt if any of them are as twangy as Bare’s. The song, written by Mel Tillis, was first titled “I Wanna Go Home,” and was a No. 18 hit on the country chart for Billy Grammer in early 1963. Bare’s retitled version went to No. 6 on the country chart and peaked at No. 16 on the pop chart.

“Needles and Pins” is far better known as a record by the Searchers (No. 13 in the spring of 1964), but Jackie DeShannon was – according to Wikipedia – the first to record the song, written by Jack Nitzsche and Sonny Bono. DeShannon’s version peaked at No. 84, but Wikipedia notes that it reached the top of the charts in English Canada, going to No. 1 on the chart issued by Toronto radio station CHUM. While the Searchers might have had the hit (as did Tom Petty with Stevie Nicks in 1986), I’ve always liked DeShannon’s version a little bit more, with its very obvious Wall of Sound influence.

Revised slightly and picture added March 30, 2015.

Saturday Single No. 43

May 22, 2011

Originally posted November 24, 2007

My friend Sean and I spent part of Thursday evening wandering through a portion of the musical files he stores on his computer. His goal is to have a digital copy of every song that has hit the Top 40, a worthy challenge.

I don’t know how far along he is, but he’s deep enough into the project that a quick scan of some of his files from the 1970s and 1980s revealed numerous obscurities, one-hit wonders and one-week wonders (his term for a performer who had one song reach the Top 40 for only one week). But the song that caught my attention as we poked our way through 1980 was “Funkytown,” the hit credited to Lipps Inc. that spent four weeks at No. 1. My first reaction was a groan, and I opined that the tune was more than just a little lame.

Sean dissented, saying that he finds “Funkytown” a good single. (Is there a difference between a good single and a good record? That’s a question to chew on another day.) And I guess that’s so. I got weary of it twenty-seven years ago, when Minnesota stations overplayed it because it was local: “Funkytown” was the product of Twin Cities producer Steve Greenberg, assisted by vocalist Cynthia Johnson.

But hearing the song at Sean’s got me to thinking: Was “Funkytown” the most influential single recorded in Minnesota? A portion of Dave Marsh’s comment on the song in his book, The Heart of Rock & Soul might lead one to that conclusion.

“Sweet, soulful early (pre-Prince) Minneapolis dance-pop,” Marsh called the recording, which he ranked at No. 202. He added, “[E]ven club-footed listeners succumb to [its] pure playfulness. And, because it helped open an era, the record can’t be dismissed as a mere lighthearted novelty.”

Well. Marsh certainly liked it. I’m still less than pleased by it, but I will grant its influence. What other Minnesota-recorded songs might sack up against it?

I can think of four by Prince (whose talent and influence I acknowledge even though I have never listened to him frequently): 1983’s “Little Red Corvette” and the 1984 trilogy of “When Doves Cry,” “Let’s Go Crazy” and “Purple Rain.” Of those four, I think the most sonically interesting is “When Doves Cry,” but in terms of influence, maybe “Little Red Corvette” tops the list because it came first.

There have been other great singles to come out of Minnesota. I think of Soul Asylum’s “Runaway Train” in 1992, “Surfin’ Bird” by the Trashmen in 1963 and the whole run of singles from the SOMA label (which stands for “Sound of Mid-America”)* in the mid-1960s. My favorite, of course, is the Mystics’ “Pain” from 1969, but liking something doesn’t automatically make it great, and as it never made the national Top 40, it’s just a local hit. Along the same line, as good as the Lamont Cranston band was, it seems to have never made the charts

So, as I consider the question of the most influential single cut in Minnesota, I find myself coming back to a single recorded for a small label in 1963 by a singer by the name of Dave Dudley, from Spencer, Wisconsin.

Dudley’s only Top 40 hit went to No. 32 in the summer of 1963 (it reached No. 2 on the country chart), but it had, Marsh wrote in 1989, “about as much impact as any hit of the early sixties – it spawned a whole genre of truck driving songs that are not only the closest contemporary equivalent of the cowboy ballads of yore but have produced some of the best country records of the past thirty years.”

Marsh ranked Dudley’s single at No. 437 back in 1989. The most notable products of Dudley’s hit, Marsh wrote, included Merle Haggard’s “White Line Fever,” Terry Fell’s “Truck Driving Man,” Red Sovine’s “Phantom 309,” Del Reeves’ pair of “Girl on the Billboard” and “Looking at the World Through a Windshield” and a few others, including Dudley’s own “Truck Drivin’ Son of a Gun.” Marsh added, “The truck driving song’s link to rock and roll, through the car song genre that extends from Chuck Berry to Prince, is also obvious and natural.”

So for me, the search for the most influential Minnesota record stops at Dave Dudley, although I have no doubt that I am overlooking some Minnesota-recorded singles that I should think about. (Tell me what they are, and I may revisit the topic.) But for now, Dudley’s only Top 40 hit is good enough for me. And that’s why “Six Days on the Road” is today’s Saturday Single.

Dave Dudley – “Six Days on the Road” [Golden Wing 3020, 1963]

*SOMA does not, in fact, stand for “Sound of Mid-America.” I’n not sure where I got that bit of misinformation, though I’m certain I read something somewhere. But as reader and pal Yah Shure pointed out quickly after I posted this piece, SOMA was simply a backwards rendering of the first name of the label’s owner, wholesale record distributor Amos Heilicher. Note added May 22, 2011.