112) The Beach Boys – “I Get Around”

With the exception of Peter & Gordon (and The Beatles themselves), all of the number-ones after “I Want to Hold Your Hand” were by American musicians: Louis Armstrong, Mary Wells, The Dixie Cups.  But it’s “I Get Around” that is commonly misremembered (at least among the sources I read) as the record that finally deposed The Beatles from atop the charts.  It does make for a nice narrative.  After all, The Beach Boys were the ultimate embodiment of the fruits of post-war American society: increased leisure time, the development of driving culture (including hot rods), and the emergence of the teenagers as a distinct demographic.  Add to that their tans and sun-bleached hair, their button-ups and white pants, their familial bond, their patriotism and school chauvinism – The Beach Boys were the golden boys, the all-American alternative to the pasty, foreign, working-class Beatles.  That “I Get Around” started its run at the top on the Fourth of July was poetic justice.

It’s also tempting to remember The Beach Boys as chart successors to The Beatles due to the rivalry and cross-pollination of ideas between the two bands through the mid-‘60s.  Paul McCartney has stated that Sgt Pepper’s was a response to Pet Sounds, which in turn was Brian Wilson’s attempt to out-do Rubber Soul.  But in 1964, The Beatles were just another stumbling block keeping The Beach Boys from being the top group in America.  Before the British Invasion, The Beach Boys played second fiddle to The Four Seasons.  Then Brian Wilson gave away “Surf City,” the song that would be number one, to Jan & Dean.  Yet this frustration would also drive the group – Wilson, specifically – to ramp up their ambitions.

On its surface, “I Get Around” follows the same formula as previous Beach Boys hits: lyrics about California kids busting up the weekend; complexly-layered five-part harmonies; reverb-heavy surf guitar.  But “I Get Around” is even more meticulously constructed than anything the group had tried yet.  The record sticks to standard rock and roll instruments, with none of the strings or brass favored by Wilson’s idol Phil Spector.  The Beach Boys’ Wall of Sound instead derives from the power of their vocals. Instead of wading in with a standard introduction, the song begins a capella – albeit with harmonies so precisely arranged that other instrumentation would be redundant.  And rather than Spector’s full-bore instrumentation, Wilson focused on creating a depth of sound.  The rhythm section fluctuates in and out over the course of the song.  Guitar lines get doubled on bass, then organ.  Keys shift between verses.  Then, seemingly at random, the introduction drops back in to the middle of the song.  Of course, that random recurrence is actually the recapitulation, part of the sonata form and an essential warm-up for composing a “teenage symphony to God.” But while “I Get Around” adheres to classical music structure, the fluidity of the arrangement creates twists and turns that keeps the song fresh and exciting and not at all unlike the mood swings and short attention spans of adolescence.

“I Get Around” was The Beach Boys’ first number-one, but in many ways it’s a transitional record. Before the year’s end, Brian Wilson would have a nervous breakdown and retire from touring to focus his obsessive tendencies in the studio.  The cars and surfboards that had dominated the lyrics of the group’s early hits would fade away, while the vocal and instrumental arrangements would become ever more elaborate and experimental.   The Beatles, too, would evolve from rock and roll revivalists to sophisticated musicians with avant garde tendencies; they would play their last concert in 1966. While “I Want to Hold Your Hand” boldly announced itself as a record to change pop, “I Get Around” subtly presaged the metamorphosis of ’60s music: the frivolity of “rock and roll” would become the art of “rock.” 8

Hit #1 on July 4, 1964; total of 2 weeks at #1
112 of 983 #1′s reviewed; 11.39% through the Hot 100

111) Peter & Gordon – “A World Without Love”

The Beatles’ trio of early 1964 hits proved that, despite the group’s teen idol status, they were capable of producing truly great material.  “A World Without Love,” on the other hand, showed that Beatlemania could make a hit of even a weaker record with a “Lennon/McCartney” credit.  Like “Love Me Do,” “A World Without Love” was a Paul McCartney composition that predated The Beatles.  But where “Love Me Do” is adolescent in the best sense of the word – raw, direct, effortlessly cool – “World Without Love” is freshman poetry navel-gazing.  McCartney rejected it as sub-Beatles standard, instead passing it on to his girlfriend Jane Asher’s brother Peter and his new folk duo.

In the hands of The Beatles, one could imagine “A World Without Love” as sort of a lesser “Yesterday,” Paul’s showcase but with his bandmates keeping the sentimentality in check.  Peter & Gordon, on the other hand, are all soft voices and tasteful guitar plucking, sounding very much like the easy-listening folk pop of the pre-Beatles era.  To be fair, though, “A World Without Love” would be weak regardless of who recorded it.  The middle eight (“So I wait, and in a while …”) doesn’t resolve itself satisfactorily, and the lyrics veer toward overwrought cliché.

Still, “A World Without Love” isn’t a terrible song.  McCartney clearly recognized its potential to become a hit, or he wouldn’t have shopped it around.  That The Beatles discarded it anyway is testament to the band’s level of quality control.  “A World Without Love” actually marked the second time a song rejected by The Beatles became a number-one record.  After the group refused to release the professionally-written “How Do You Do It” as their first single, Gerry and the Pacemakers took it to the top of the charts in the UK.  By rejecting those two songs, The Beatles were making an artistic statement rare in the rock and roll era: that staying true to one’s standards and crafting a high quality discography is more important than grubbing for hits.  What The Beatles chose not to record was just as important to their mythology as what they did. 5

Hit #1 on June 27, 1964; total of 1 week at #1
111 of 982 #1’s reviewed; 11.30% through the Hot 100

110) The Dixie Cups – “Chapel of Love”

“Chapel of Love” wasn’t supposed to be a hit for The Dixie Cups.  Phil Spector had claimed the Jeff Barry/Ellie Greenwich composition for The Ronettes, who did record the original as album filler.   Indeed, the song’s single-minded declaration of girlish devotion is of a piece with hits like “Be My Baby” and “Baby I Love You”.  The Ronettes record also benefits from Ronnie Spector’s distinctive voice, which makes up for any lyrical slightness (the entire song can be summed up by “Gee, I really love you, and we’re going to get married”) through the power of her delivery.

Barry and Greenwich, sensing the song’s hit potential, shopped “Chapel of Love” around before producing it themselves. (Leiber and Stoller are officially credited, but general agreement is that their contributions were nominal.)  They settled on The Dixie Cups, a mostly unknown group from New Orleans.  While The Dixie Cups were certainly fine singers, there was no standout in the group a la Ronnie Spector or Darlene Love, whose own version of “Chapel of Love” adds a more confident, adult edge.   As a result, their version isn’t quite as compelling as either of the Spector-prodced recordings.  Still, the pleasantly catchy melody and The Dixie Cups’ agreeable vocals are enough to carry the day.  The lyrics, though narrow in focus, are also direct enough to develop a kind of universality, as demonstrated by the song’s continued ubiquity in films and at wedding receptions.  And while The Dixie Cups never became stars on the level of The Ronettes, they did manage a few more hits, including one that better played to their strengths: the much-covered New Orleans anthem “Iko Iko.” 7

Hit #1 on June 6, 1964; total of 3 weeks at #1
110 of 983 #1′s reviewed; 11.19% through the Hot 100