78) The Four Seasons – “Sherry”

First, you must embrace the falsetto.  Don’t worry about how Frankie Valli’s voice could get so high.  Don’t wonder why such a sound would even be desirable.  Like the shrill keening of Chinese opera or the yodeling of the Swiss Alps, it is a vocal artifact of a foreign culture.   If you are to enjoy the music, you must accept that tastes differ across time and space.  If you are naturally inclined to appreciate these sounds, well, all the better.

Now that you’ve surmounted that hurdle, it’s on to the music itself.  The Four Seasons’ sound derived from doo wop but was driven by rock and roll.  Like Dion before them, The Four Seasons recognized that doo wop was becoming passé, and evolving was the way to stay relevant.  But unlike the jazzy flourishes in “Runaround Sue,” “the group’s singles of this era (including “Sherry”) appeal more directly to the teenage fan.  If one were feeling hyperbolic, it could even be said that The Four Seasons paved the way for The Beatles – rock and roll filtered through tight multi-part harmonies and polished production.  Frankie Valli & co. haven’t aged as well as the Fab Four, though.  The Beatles did have a few advantages that The Four Seasons lacked: a persistent need to experiment and evolve, a seemingly bottomless reserve of creativity, and (ca. 1967 aside) a disregard for effects that would instantly date the record.  When Paul McCartney deployed falsetto, it was more Little Richard’s flamboyant hysterics than Frankie Valli’s preternatural shriek.

But don’t let negative comparisons with The Beatles dissuade you.  One source claims that The Four Seasons were the most successful white pop group before The Beatles, and it’s not too hard to believe it. “Sherry” is similar enough to contemporaneous pop that it isn’t out of place, yet it doesn’t quite sound like anything else at the time either.  While the group’s song catalogue would become increasingly dominated by formula, the Four Seasons’ first charting single is a fresh burst of energy in the increasingly lethargic pop charts.  At least if you can accept the falsetto. 7

Hit #1 on September 15, 1962; total of 5 weeks at #1
78 of 975 #1′s reviewed; 8.00% through the Hot 100

77) Tommy Roe – “Sheila”

There’s the meme in music criticism, or at least in rock criticism, that the original trumps the reproduction.  Why even bother listening to Band X when Band Y did the same thing 20 years ago (and, presumably, better)? Or, if the innovator is of a more recent vintage, the follower is accused of bandwagon-jumping.  At any rate, the reproduction is dismissed as nothing but a shoddy mimeograph, and any discussion of the music itself is neglected.  Sometimes, this is a fair shortcut.  If an artist didn’t even bother to invent their own sound, then maybe they’re equally as lazy with their songs.

Sometimes, though, this way of thinking overlooks some genuinely good music.  Case in point: Tommy Roe’s “Sheila,” which thieves mercilessly and thoroughly from Buddy Holly’s still-warm corpse.  There’s no mistaking the shuffling guitars, the muffled clod of the drums, the shift into pinched nasality for special effect.  He even hiccups, for God’s sake.  This is not a sound that Roe stumbled across by accident or happened to develop through parallel evolution.  Yet the song itself works.  If you’re going to borrow from someone, you could do a whole lot worse than Buddy Holly.  Holly’s aesthetic was so tightly focused that it would be nearly impossible to follow his blueprint and not come up with something decent, at the very least.

But all reproductions, no matter how faithful, still are no replacement for the original.  OK, so maybe I’m guilty of buying into the critical cliché I just dismissed.  But Buddy Holly is a legend and Tommy Roe isn’t, and sometimes it’s hard to explain why that is. I can talk about “energy,” or “magic,” or “spark,” but vague terms won’t convince anyone.  Suffice to say, it’s the difference between designing a cake and following a recipe.  Both cakes may taste good and look beautiful, but only one was created by a master drawing on a personal store of creativity.  It’s a subtle difference, and one that may be lost on most people.  But while “Sheila” may not have the timelessness of, say, “Everyday” or “That’ll Be the Day,” it’s still a pretty good pop song.   7

Hit #1 on September 1, 1962; total of 2 weeks at #1
77 of 975 #1′s reviewed; 7.90% through the Hot 100

76) Little Eva – “The Loco-Motion”

On the surface, there’s not much difference between “The Loco-Motion” and “The Twist.” Both are pop songs promoting previously non-existent dances, with lyrics that devoted to detailing (albeit vaguely) the requisite motions.  But what makes “The Loco-Motion” so superior to “The Twist” is the fact that it is the better song.  “The Twist” starts with a basic 12-bar blues form and doesn’t do much with it.  There’s no middle eight, no instrumental break, no clever lyrics – nothing to distract from the song’s repetitiousness.  But while “The Loco-Motion” uses a standard pop song format as its launching point, note how Gerry Goffin and Carole King toss in a few tweaks.  After the drums that kick off the track, the first sound on the record is a weird, flat drone, courtesy of some brass instrument.  The drone doesn’t call much attention to itself, but it lays down the foundation for Goffin’s layered production.  There’s the unexpected chord changes that bridge the more straightforward verse and chorus (“Do it nice and easy, now, don’t do it slow/A little bit of rhythm and a lot of soul”), and the exaggerated syncopation (“come on, come on – DO the loco-motion with me”).  On top of that, so many interesting parts – the backup singers, the handclaps, the horn break – click into place.

But perhaps the most charming element of the song is Little Eva herself.  The old story goes that Goffin and King recruited their babysitter to record “The Loco-Motion” as a demo meant for an established artist, but the label liked her take so much that they released it as is.  In actuality, the songwriters were already aware of Little Eva’s singing voice before they hired her.  Nevertheless, it’s her raw phrasing, with its imprecise enunciation and distinct lack of professional sheen, that catches the ear.  While the girl group genre had its share of strong, pure-toned vocalists like Shirley Owens and Darlene Love, much of its appeal stemmed from the idea that these singers could be your life.  These are teenage girls, singing about the same problems that you have, who sound like just like you (only better).  It’s the imperfections and vulnerabilities in their voices that make them believable.  When Little Eva sings, you can trust that she knows the newest dance – even if it doesn’t really exist.   8

Hit #1 on August 25, 1962; total of 1 week at #1
76 of 975 #1′s reviewed;7.79% through the Hot 100