Monthly Archives: March 2009

49) Del Shannon – “Runaway”

The fascinating part of working on this blog is discovering the sheer range of songs that topped the charts, both in terms of quality and of cultural endurance.  Some of the #1′s are flat-out terrible, but just as puzzling are the mediocre songs that vanish from the public consciousness the week they drop off the charts.  And, then, ever so rarely, are the indisputable classics.  These are the songs which not only maintain their potency years after their initial release, but which act as musical watersheds or otherwise define their era.  These songs outline the difference between “oldies” and songs that transcend their time to be great, period.

I don’t remember the first time I heard Del Shannon’s “Runaway” because it’s always been in the ether.  I do remember the moment when it clicked for me, though.  I was about 8 or 9, and I was leafing through booklets at a stained glass store while my grandmother shopped.  At the first sound, the serrated guitar strums, I froze.  I was drawn in by the song’s sinister urgency, punctuated by the piercing yet celestial tones of some unknown instrument.  This is not an oldie, I thought, but something much darker and scarier.  Even in high school, when I listened mostly to the arty funk of Talking Heads and the squall of Sonic Youth, “Runaway” was always in my top 5 songs.  I credit “Runaway” with sparking my love for the electronic organ, although the instrument in question is actually a clavioline modified by keyboardist Max Crook and renamed the Musitron. 

It’s the Musitron that is the crux of the tune.  Few pop listeners would have heard a synthesizer before at all, but having their first experience be with the Crook’s contraption is like trying your first pepper and having it be a Scotch bonnet.  The instrument’s otherworldy sound - simultaneously like a piano, a tuba and something that would have been recovered at the Roswell crash – catches the ear and sears the tune into the listener’s memory.  But the Musitron wasn’t the only ace that Shannon, Crook and co. had up their sleeves.  There’s also  the unusual chord change in the verses (A minor to G), the “wah-wah-wah-wah-wonder” falsetto of the chorus (few white boys had copped the technique before on record), the subliminal alienness of the pitch-corrected vocals (sped up because Shannon had sung a little flat).  Even when Shannon rerecorded “Runaway” for the ’80s TV drama Crime Story with darker lyrics (“watchin’ all the planes go by/some live and others die”), it couldn’t match the original’s sonic mixture of menace and desperation.  Just as nothing before or since sounded like the Musitron, so too does “Runaway” remain an anomaly: bizarre yet catchy, sinister yet heartbreaking. 10

Hit #1 on April 24, 1961; total of 4 weeks at #1
49 of 967 #1′s reviewed; 5.07% through the Hot 100

2 Comments

Filed under 10, 1961

48) The Marcels – “Blue Moon”

A common theme in the nascent years of rock was a revisiting of old standards by rock and roll and R&B artists.  Among others, we’ve discussed Ray Charles singing Hoagy Carmichael, The Platters doing Jerome Kern and Bobby Darin’s delightfully bizarre dip into Brechtian theater.  Now, we have The Marcels, an integrated doo-wop group from Pittsburgh, contributing a cover of a Rodgers and Hart ballad to the rock/standard canon.  ”Blue Moon” wasn’t a particularly original choice to be subject of a rock and roll remake, as Elvis Presley had scored a minor hit with it in 1956.  But The Marcels’ version is the most audacious of all the covers.  Sure, there are the typical modern touches: the tempo’s accelerated and the vocals are broken into five-part harmony.  But the big difference is that the most memorable part of the group’s recording isn’t even part of the Rodgers and Hart original:

Bom ba ba bom ba bom ba bom bom ba ba bom ba ba bom ba ba dang a dang dang
Ba ba ding a dong ding Blue moon moon blue moon dip di dip di dip
Moo Moo Moo Blue moon dip di dip di dip Moo Moo Moo Blue moon dip di dip di dip
Bom ba ba bom ba bom ba bom bom ba ba bom ba ba bom ba ba dang a dang dang
Ba ba ding a dong ding

These nonsense syllables, interpolated from an original song by The Marcels, transform the song from a relatively faithful remake designed to appeal across generational lines to something completely fresh.  No longer did rock and R&B need to bow in subservience to the sacrosanct old music.  “Blue Moon” proved that the new genres were just as valid as the old standards, if not more so.  But The Marcels also managed the nifty trick of making the cover lighthearted enough that few adults could take offense at its impudence.  And if any adults did, well, that’s all the more reason for the kids to embrace it. 7

Hit #1 on April 3, 1961; total of 3 weeks at #1
48 of 967 #1′s reviewed; 4.96% through the Hot 100

1 Comment

Filed under 07, 1961