Posts Tagged ‘Manfred Mann’

Tum-Ta-Tum! (Da-Da-Do) Tum-Tum!

July 7, 2011

Originally posted June 3, 2008

By now, the news isn’t news any more: Bo Diddley is dead. Born December 30, 1928 as Elias Otha Bates (and later surnamed McDaniel – formally? informally? I’m not sure – after his teenage mother’s first cousin, who raised him), he was 79 when he crossed over.

Famed for the “Bo Diddley beat,” a rhythmic signature that became the foundation of his music, Diddley was a prolific writer and recording artist in the 1950s for the Checker label of Chess Records at a time when Chess was probably the second-most important U.S. record company, at least as far as rock ’n’ roll and R&B was concerned. (Atlantic Records would have come first.) His productivity – and the influence of his rhythmic innovations – did not translate into record sales: The McComb, Mississippi, native had only one Top 40 hit in his career, 1959’s “Say Man.”

“Say Man” is listed in the Billboard Book of Top 40 Hits as a novelty record, with the eighth edition of the book noting that on the single, “Diddley trades insults with maracas player Jerome Green.” Calling it a novelty seems a bit harsh, but it was different. The single – which went to No. 20 – had Diddley and Green laying down over a simple rhythmic bed a bowdlerized version of the urban insult game called “the dozens.”

While Diddley’s music didn’t have the impact on the charts he certainly would have liked, he influenced many musicians in his and following generations of rock, rock ’n’ roll and R&B. One early example: Buddy Holly appropriated the Diddley beat for “Not Fade Away” in 1957, an approach that the Rolling Stones echoed when they recorded the song on the British edition of their 1964 album, The Rolling Stones (England’s Newest Hit Makers). The record was the Stones’ first to hit the English charts and their first U.S. single.

His long-term influence on rock music brought Bo Diddley into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame as a member of its second group of inductees in 1987. He toured and performed regularly until health concerns took him off the road last year.

There are certainly hundreds – more likely thousands – of cover versions of Bo Diddley songs. I rummaged through my mp3s and came up with three versions of “Bring It To Jerome.” The first is Diddley’s own, released in 1956. The first of the covers is by the British group Manfred Mann and was released on the Manfred Mann Album in 1964. The second is by a group of L.A. musicians, Joel Scott Hill, Chris Etheridge (of the Flying Burrito Brothers) and Johnny Barbata – helped, as I understand it, by some famous friends – called L.A. Getaway, who released their very different version of “Bring It To Jerome” on their only album, a self-titled 1971 release.

Bo Diddley – “Bring It To Jerome” [Checker 827, 1956]

Manfred Mann – “Bring It To Jerome” [1964]

L.A. Getaway – “Bring It To Jerome” [1971]

Afternote:
Plenty of other folks in blogworld are remembering Bo Diddley in tales and/or music. Some of them are Jeff at AM, Then FM, Ted at Boogie Woogie Flu, Vincent at Fufu Stew, and our friend at The Vinyl District. In addition, jb from The Hits Just Keep On Comin’ gave Bo some props at the WNEW blog.*

*Unhappily, the link to jb’s piece at the WNEW blog no longer seems to work. Note added July 7, 2011.

Five Manfreds In Edinburgh

May 10, 2011

Originally posted September 13, 2007

Man, I love YouTube!

I could easily get lost there anytime I wander to the site, poking around old music videos and a few others things. I think the first thing I ever looked up on YouTube, actually, was the 1973 Belmont Stakes, just to see Secretariat fly once more.

Well, no racehorses here today, just a performance by Manfred Mann from, I would guess, 1964, filmed at the Mecca Palais in Edinburgh, Scotland. This is one of two copies of this performance I found. The other has a voice-over introduction as the band walks to the Mecca Palais, and the announcer tells us all five members of the band have taken the name Manfred. I wonder how long that lasted?

Video deleted.

A Baker’s Dozen from 1964

May 10, 2011

Originally posted September 12, 2007

As 1964 dawned, we were in a new world, one that we weren’t sure we liked very much. It had been just more than a month since President Kennedy was killed, and we were still getting used to seeing the somewhat stern visage of Lyndon Johnson, the new president, in places like the post office and other federal buildings. There had been a month of mourning for John Kennedy, a period that ended just before Christmas. I recall a sense of sadness, of course, but along with that, I recall among the grownups in my life what seemed to be a wariness, an uneasiness at what might come next, considering that something so unthinkable had already happened.

So 1964 felt like an alien land. In my fifth-grade classroom, we had the morning Minneapolis Tribune delivered, and I – already being a news junkie – tried to get into the classroom early enough each day to take a look at it. (At home, we subscribed to the Minneapolis Star, the evening paper from the same company that, sadly, was merged into the morning paper about twenty-five years ago.) One morning, the front page of the Trib showed a picture of a dignified woman, and the headline told me that she – Senator Margaret Chase Smith from Maine – had announced her intention of running for president. When the other kids came into the room, the headline caused such a commotion that the front page of the newspaper was ripped into several pieces. Unhappy with us, Mr. Lydeen stood by his desk at the back of the room and held the pieces of the paper up, then dropped the entire newspaper into the wastebasket. If it happened again, he said, the room would quit getting the paper.

Other things in the news in 1964 included the New York World’s Fair, which took place at a location with the giggle-inducing name of Flushing Meadows. (My pals and I were ten, okay?) Among the exhibits I recall wanting to see were the audioanimatronic dinosaurs – created by the Disney organization – in, I think, the Ford display, and the Pietà, the Michelangelo sculpture carefully shipped across the Atlantic from Vatican City for its own pavilion at the fair. (I finally saw the dinosaurs – or their electronic descendants – during a 1980s trip to Disneyland and was not impressed; on the other hand, when I saw the Pietà in its home in St. Peter’s Basilica, I was overwhelmed.)

The over-riding sense of the New York World’s Fair from a distance, as I recall, was the shining tomorrow that it promised to all the world, a promise that has not been well kept. We do have technological marvels aplenty in our portion of the world. But the future we have found is one that glitters far less than the one we were told would arrive. Forget about flying cars and elevated monorail service and automated kitchens. There are still too many people in the world – the United Nations says the total is more than a billion, according to Wikipedia – who lack safe drinking water.

It was in 1964 when President Johnson started what he called the War on Poverty, and it was that summer when three civil rights workers – Michael Schwerner, James Chaney and Andrew Goodman – were killed in Mississippi while doing field work for the Congress of Racial Equality. The first major protests against the Vietnam War took place in New York and San Francisco in May. I remember being baffled by all of it, not realizing that the world was beginning to baffle the grownups around me as well.

And then there was the music, which was going through changes of its own. As readers likely know, the Beatles came to the U.S. for the first time in February of that year, sparking what has come to be called the British Invasion. In April, the Beatles held the top five spots on Billboard’s Top 40 chart, a feat never seen before or since. (The songs were, in order, “Can’t Buy Me Love,” “Twist and Shout,” “She Loves You,” “I Want to Hold Your Hand” and “Please Please Me.”) And by the end of the year, British acts dominated American pop charts.

There was still some fine music being recorded and performed here, of course, but it became increasingly difficult for it to dent the charts. For many blues and R&B performers, that increasing difficulty was simply a continuation of a trend that had started in the 1950s (although the success of acts on Motown and Stax and related labels was growing). So 1964 was a year of transition in the music world as well as in the world in general.

Here, then, is a Baker’s Dozen from that year:

“Smokestack Lightning” by Manfred Mann from The Manfred Mann Album

“Nobody Knows You When You’re Down And Out” by Jimmy Witherspoon from Blue Spoon

“Spanish Harlem Incident” by Bob Dylan from Another Side of Bob Dylan

“When You Walk In The Room” by the Searchers, Kapp single 618

“Good Morning Little Schoolgirl” by the Yardbirds, Columbia single DB 7391 (UK)

“I Live the Life I Love” by John Hammond from Big City Blues

“(The Best Part Of) Breakin’ Up” by the Ronettes, Philles single 120

“Sweet Home Chicago” by David “Honeyboy” Edwards, unreleased session

“Hold Me Tight” by the Treasures, Shirley single 500

“Slow Down” by the Beatles, Capitol single 5255

“The Girls On The Beach” by the Beach Boys from All Summer Long

“Airmobile” by Tim Hardin from Columbia sessions, unreleased.

“Maybelline” by Johnny Rivers, Imperial single 66056

A few notes on some of the songs:

“Smokestack Lightning,” from the same album that included the marvelous “Do Wah Diddy Diddy,” is not as nifty as one would like. Manfred Mann’s band was capable of doing some fine blues work, and did so elsewhere on the album. But “Smokestack Lightning” is too obviously based on Howlin’ Wolf’s extraordinary performance from 1956.

The album Another Side of Bob Dylan found Dylan in transition, shifting in his subject matter from public to personal concerns but still presenting the material as folk songs. The songs on the record – “Spanish Harlem Incident” in particular – would not sound out of place had they been recorded as rock songs and placed with the material Dylan would release in the next year on Bringing It All Back Home and Highway 61 Revisited.

The Honeyboy Edwards session was produced, I believe, by Pete Welding and leased to Sun Records, which chose not to release it. Edwards’ performance of Robert Johnson’s “Sweet Home Chicago” is solid but not particularly revelatory. It becomes more interesting when one realizes that Edwards, born in 1915 and still alive today, is likely the only surviving person who performed with Johnson and also likely the only living person who was present that night at the Three Forks Store when Johnson was poisoned.

The Treasures were two Phil Spector associates, Vinnie Poncina and Peter Andreoli. After visiting England in 1963 and sharing a plane with the Beatles in February 1964 – according to All-Music Guide – Spector decided to cover one of the Fab Four’s songs. He chose “Hold Me Tight,” and came up with this wonderful mixture of British pop, doo-wop and the Wall of Sound.

The other Phil Spector production here, the Ronettes’ “(The Best Part of) Breakin’ Up,” was the third Ronettes single to hit the Top 40, reaching No. 39 in May, just three months after the Beatles and the other Brits began to make chart life difficult for American pop artists. The Ronettes would have two more records on the charts in 1964 – reaching No. 34 with “Do I Love You?” and No. 23 with “Walking In The Rain” – but nothing in the Top 40 after that.