A funny band name is always guaranteed to spark interest, but often overshadows its music. However, that is not the case with Librarians With Hickeys, whose cleverly-chiseled songs are as attention-grabbing as their moniker.
Consisting of Ray Carmen on vocals, guitar, ukulele and keyboards, Mike Crooker on guitar, keyboards and backing vocals, Andrew Wilco on bass and Rob Crossley on drums and piano, the Akron, Ohio-based quartet gathered a universal following with a pair of singles they issued last year. Encouraged by the positive response, the band began working on a complete album, Long Overdue, which will be released August 14th by Big Stir Records.
The band’s debut album wisely contains the two singles that put them on the map. Radiating to a repertoire rigged with glistening guitars, yearning harmonies and the heart-stopping hum of a harpsichord, Until There Was You is a poptastic prize of the highest order. The subsequent single, Black Velvet Dress is directed by a hypnotizing beat layered with shimmering textures.
Punctured with a trippy psychedelic air prompted by the plucking of a backwards guitar, Obsession punches in as another A-grade track heard on Long Overdue, not to neglect the pure pop pleasantries of That Time Is Now featuring acclaimed vocalist Lisa Mychols.
Amplified by driving instrumentation grooving and swinging with a go-go sixties flavor, Looking For Home also receives a big round of applause, while the whimsical Be My Plus One is embedded with the sweet strum of a ukulele. Ray’s daughter Grace lends her vibrant vocal power to the grand and gorgeous Silent Stars, where the hooky and neatly-groomed Next Time yields a brace of cool saxophone fills.
By mating old-school pop properties with frequent art rock flirtations, Librarians With Hickeys have produced an album that is both comfortably familiar and novel. The band’s bright and breezy vocal expressions, compounded by melodic strength, are sure to satisfy fans of artists such as Shoes, The Beach Boys and The Smithereens. Assessing Long Overdue, Librarians With Hickeys have gotten off to a mighty good start. No matter what the current trend is, we all love catchy pop songs, and here’s a band whose contributions are most welcome.
This is a piece I wrote in 2016, right after Hamilton won its barrel full of Tonys. Thanks to Disney +, I’m finally set to enjoy my first view of Hamilton this month. And the opportunity prompts me to think back to when I first became aware of the play and its phenomenon, and its peripheral connection between me and and an old college friend.
This year, for the first time in many, many years, I watched the Tony Awards broadcast. I don’t watch a lot of awards shows. Neither the Oscars nor the Emmys hold any interest for me; I record the Grammys and the American Music Awards, but I fast-forward through the looooong stretches of each that bore me to tears–left to my own devices, I can watch a three-hour Grammy or AMA show in twenty to thirty minutes, maybe forty minutes, tops. Middle-aged power pop fans are just not the target demographic of these shows. But one of the things that did catch my interest on this year’s Grammys was the performance from the Broadway sensation Hamilton. Honest to God, I just thought it was captivating. So I tuned into this year’s Tony Awards show to try ‘n’ soak up a bit more of that Hamilton buzz; and, more specifically, my wife Brenda and I wanted to root for Leslie Odom, Jr., the actor who plays Aaron Burr in Hamilton. Now, we’ve never actually met Leslie; but–a very long time ago–we knew his Mom and his Dad. First, a bit of background about me and The Great White Way. I’ve spent a lot of time writing about rock ‘n’ roll, punk, bubblegum, pop, and power pop. It may surprise some to learn that someone like me–whose all-time favorite musical acts are The Beatles, The Ramones,The Flashcubes, The Kinks, and The Monkees–also loves Broadway. But there were always Original Broadway Cast albums around the house when I was a kid, so I was exposed to this music, immersed in it, since even before John, Paul, George, and Ringo paid that first visit to ol’ stoneface Ed Sullivan one Sunday night in ’64. As a toddler, I would accompany my parents on shopping trips to J.M. Fields or K-Mart, and I’d randomly sing snippets o’ show tunes while sitting in the shopping cart. This could border on the awkward and embarrassing, like when I would suddenly bellow, Here’s to the son of a B–tra la! from Carnival, or re-enact the domestic quarrel scene from Gypsy, concluding that I was gettin’ my kids and gettin’ out. Hello, Child Protection? Yeah, there’s this kid in the department store, and you won’t believe what’s comin’ outta his mouth…! West Side Story. The Music Man. Camelot. Funny Girl. Carousel. And, my favorite, Carnival. I heard all of these, and many more, and they were ultimately as much a part of my formative musical alchemy as the British Invasion and The Monkees. The lure of rock ‘n’ roll was ultimately too much competition for musical theater to withstand, but I never exactly stopped loving Broadway, either. I’ve never seen a play on Broadway, but I did see an Off-Broadway production of Jesus Christ Superstar in 1973, and I saw Wicked in London’s West End in 2010. I’ve seen many, many local theatrical productions, both professional and amateur; Brenda and I have even been known to attend high school musicals, and I mean high school musicals where we didn’t know any of the student performers–we were just there to enjoy the play.
This ongoing love of music and musicals also led me to a short-lived TV series called Smash. Smash ran for two seasons, from 2012 to 2013, and it was kind of a mess, really. But it had its moments, and I never missed an episode. And I noticed an actor who had a recurring role on Smash, and I called Brenda in while I watching him on the show. Hey, Bren. This actor’s name is Leslie Odom, Jr. It could be a coincidence, but damn–doesn’t he look a little like Les? I met Les Odom in college at Brockport, in Spring of 1979, I think. Les was friends with a couple of the guys I lived with, Truck Thacker and Ray Ramos, so I saw Les here and there in our dorm suite–partying, kibbitzing, listening to music (with The O’Jays‘ live “Wildflower” a particular favorite, as I recall). Les was from Queens, so he was on the school’s charter bus to New York City during Spring Break; I was also on that charter bus, accompanying Brenda back to Staten Island, where I would be meeting her parents for the first time (and, of course, also making a side trip to see The Flashcubes play on the Bowery). That bus trip was a bacchanalia on wheels, a mobile version of dorm life, and enough fun that I only minded a little when all these downstaters kept putting down my home town when the bus passed through Syracuse. You call this a city? Man, this ain’t even big enough to be a borough! (And this may be a case of my memory rearranging facts to suit my narrative, but I do believe it was Les who said, Naw, man–come on! It seems like a nice place. Leave CC be!) When I graduated from college in 1980, I decided to stay in Brockport while Brenda completed her studies. We got an apartment in the village, and were surprised to discover that Les and his girlfriend, Yvette Nixon, were also living in the same small complex, Villager Apartments. We were never really tight, but we renewed our friendship nonetheless, and spent some time hanging out over the course of that summer. I have a specific, vivid memory of Yvette making dinner for us in their apartment one night, and we spent a lovely evening drinking and partying, alternating between watching Ted Kennedy’s firebrand speech at the Democratic National Convention and listening to James Brown’s Live At The Apollo LP. I remember it as a happy, happy time. But Villager Apartments didn’t seem to remain a happy place for Les and Yvette. Brenda and I both remember them as a really cool, very nice couple, and we all got on quite well. But Villager’s manager, Pete–who lived next door to Brenda and I, and was also a friend of ours at the time–may not have shared our affection for Les and Yvette. It may have been racial (which is an easy stone to cast, even when it’s not true), or it may have been a simple matter of friction between tenants and an apartment manager. I didn’t see any of it. All I know is what Pete told me: that Les was banging on Pete’s door late one night, presumably to report a problem with Les and Yvette’s place, and Pete opened the door and pointed a gun at Les. Les shouted, No, Pete! It’s me–Les! No shots were fired, and no one was hurt, thank God. But Les and Yvette moved out not long after that. We never saw them again. When we saw this Leslie Odom, Jr. on Smash, we knew in our hearts he had to be Les’ son. Had to be. Odom’s a common name, but the resemblance was strong enough. Now, Les was a big guy, and Leslie, Jr. didn’t seem to be as physically large–well, on TV, anyway. But Yvette was of slighter build, so it was plausible. I did the Google Stalk thing that everyone does now: Leslie Odom, Jr. was born in August of 1981 in Queens–roughly a year after we’d last seen Les and Yvette, and in Les’ home town. But no matter how much we researched, we couldn’t confirm the identities of this actor’s parents. Well, yeah, we knew his father was Leslie Odom, Sr–we are indeed that well-versed in the time-honored art of deduction–but we didn’t know his mother’s name, and we couldn’t say with absolute certainty that his Dad was the Les we used to know. When we saw the performance from Hamilton on this year’s Grammys telecast, we noticed Leslie Odom, Jr. in a prominent role. The performance was intriguing; the idea of “a hip-hop musical” wasn’t intrinsically attractive to me, but this seemed so powerful, so well-executed, so goddamned irresistible, that it just knocked me out, man. My budget wasn’t likely to accommodate a trip to New York and Hamilton tickets any time soon, but I kept my eyes open for further TV glimpses. Everyone knew Hamilton was going to dominate the Tonys. And that meant Brenda and I were going to watch the Tonys. The awards show itself was amazing, actually. Host James Corden was fantastic, the comedy bits and musical numbers were endlessly engaging, and–unlike the Grammys or the AMAs–I never felt like fast-forwarding through anything except the commercials. It was a thoroughly enjoyable evening of television. Watching the scene from Hamilton, I found myself mesmerized; the only comparison I could think of was The Beach Boys‘ masterpiece Pet Sounds; not because Hamilton is in any way reminiscent of Pet Sounds, but simply because that’s what comes to mind when something is as good as it gets, nonpareil, a summit of achievement and accomplishment. Tough to make that pronouncement based on a couple of numbers seen on a 32″ TV screen, but screw objectivity anyway. There was a giddy joy in surrendering to the moment, and letting it sweep all cynicism away. When it came time to award the prize for Best Actor In A Musical, we knew that Leslie was up against Hamilton‘s creator and star, Lin-Manuel Miranda, and we figured Miranda was a lock. But Leslie won! We whooped and hollered as if he were one of our own. And, in the conclusion of his acceptance speech, Leslie, Jr. acknowledged, “Leslie Odom, Sr., Yvette Odom, and Elizabeth Odom taught me well as well.” And there it was. Confirmation! I’m not embarrassed to admit that Brenda and I both screeched like young teens at a One Direction show. And we’re pretty sure we saw Les–Les, Sr.–in the audience, pumping his fist in jubilation, proud of his son. It felt so damned good. They say the neon lights are bright on Broadway. Sometimes that harsh glow can be blinding, too much to take in; but sometimes, there really is magic in the air. That magic can manifest in music and art, and also in friendships long gone, but still remembered fondly. That glitter never rubs off. It never will.
Sugar Sugar – The Complete Albums Collection (Cleopatra Records)
The story of The Archies dates back to 1942, when they began life as comic strip characters. Based in a town called Riverdale, Archie Andrews and a core group of friends – Betty Cooper, Jughead Jones, Veronica Lodge and Reggie Mantle – were teenagers involved in various dramas and adventures where good clean fun was always the name of the game.
Flash forward to 1968, when The Archies were granted a Saturday morning cartoon show. Not only were the kids now television stars, but Don Kirschner – the man behind the phenomenal success of The Monkees – turned them into rock stars. Rather than hiring a “real” band to do the job, he employed a crew of studio musicians and songwriters that would focus strictly on recording.
The folks Don Kirschner selected to masquerade as The Archies were experienced professionals with credible reputations. Jeff Barry, Ron Dante, Joey Levine, Andy Kim, Toni Wine, Hugh McCracken and Bobby Bloom were among the talent responsible for the music of The Archies.
During their heyday, The Archies delivered five albums, which are included on Sugar Sugar – The Complete Albums Collection as individual compact discs. Frequently criticized for their fictional existence and bubblegummy sound and image, The Archies actually produced a wealth of incredibly well-crafted material that seriously ranks as some of the best pop rock of the era, or any era for that matter.
The band’s first album, The Archies, featured their introductory single, Bang-Shang-A-Lang, which reached number twenty-two on the charts in the autumn of 1968. Pronounced by a big and bouncy chorus aligned with a foot-stomping beat, Bang-Shang-A-Lang announced the arrival of The Archies in ear pleasing splendor. Those who purchased The Archies on the basis of the single would encounter further nifty nuggets, particularly Truck Driver and Hide And Seek, which were both cut of a robust garage rock fiber, and You Make Me Wanna Dance, a fast-paced floor shaker.
Late summer 1969 saw The Archies score a transatlantic number one hit with Sugar Sugar. Mixing bubblegum bliss with a nip of a soul-studded swagger, the insanely catchy tune appeared on the band’s second album, Everything’s Archie. While Sugar Sugar stands as the crowning achievement, the album offers a brace other tasty treats. For example, there’s the snarky bite of Don’t Touch My Guitar and You Little Angel You is a dandy doo-wop delight. A rather melancholic mood houses Circle Of Blue, and the perpetually peppy Feelin’ So Good (S.K.O.O.B.Y. D.O.O.) refers to having a picnic in the grass with Mama Cass.
The third Archies album, Jingle Jangle, birthed a winner in the form of the title track that peaked at the number ten spot in the final weeks of 1969. Juicy bubblegum flavorings, aided by soulful vocals and a super-sized choir of la la la la la la la’s were the intoxicating ingredients couched in the song. Devised of crunchy George Harrisonesque chords, You Know I Love You, the countrified spunk of Look Before You Leap and the smartly-structured pop rock zing of She’s Putting Me Thru Changes sail in as subsequent picks to click on the Jingle Jangle album.
Surfacing in June 1970, Sunshine marked the fourth Archies’ album, which was not as bubblegum oriented as previous efforts. No major hits emerged from the album, except for A Summer Prayer For Peace, that climbed to number one in South Africa. Draped in droning instrumentation, the chant-like dialogue listed countries throughout the world, urging all to practice peace. The ecology-minded Mr. Factory favored a bluesy pitch and Who’s Your Baby brandished a funky groove. Incorporating bits and bobs of The Kingsmen’sLouie Louie with A Little Bit ‘O Soul by The Music Explosion, Over And Over dialed in as a neat slice of bubblegum garage pop, and the equally fetching Waldo P. Emerson Jones paid homage to a cool cat who attended the Woodstock Festival and counted The Beatles, Jimmy Page and Simon and Garfunkel as buddies.
Issued early 1971, This Is Love was pressed in limited quantities and vanished quickly from the shelves, making it a mighty rare speciman. By far the band’s strongest album, This Is Love can easily be considered an obscure classic. Be it the rollicking romp of Little Green Jacket, the sparkling mid-tempo ballad, This Is The Night, the plucky punch of Don’t Need No Bad Girl or the firm grip of Carousel Man, the album posts as a perfectly realized pop rock affair. Even the peculiar What Goes On – which possesses a jazzy San Francisco hippy jam vibe shaped of twirling rhythms, funky brass arrangements and the whistling whirr of a flute – seems right at home on the album.
So there you have it – Sugar Sugar – The Complete Albums Collection – in bright and shiny glory. Airtight with electrifying energy, helmed by herds of happy harmonies and solid gold hooks, the box set documents the pop rock precision of The Archies with impressive effects. Armed with ace construction and composition skills, not to mention great singing and playing, the band was never placed in the same category as their contemporary heavyweights, yet it is no exaggeration to say a lot of their work is just as worthy as choice creations from artists such as The Beach Boys, The Hollies and The Turtles. Those acquainted only with the hit singles of The Archies are sure to enjoy the many similarly-inclined gems strewn across these discs.
Born on this day in 1930, in Niagara Falls, New York, guitarist Tommy Tedesco. As a member of the fabled Wrecking Crew of studio musicians, Tedesco played on hit records by The Beach Boys, The Ronettes, Elvis Presley, The Everly Brothers and more.
The Vapour Trails hit the jackpot right from the start, as the Scottish band’s debut album, See You In The Next World, was an instant smash, both artistically and sales-wise. Needless to say, expectations run high for the follow-up effort, and I am happy to report Golden Sunshine soars above and beyond the call of duty.
Suitably christened, the album emits endless rays of warmth and vitality. Positive energy abounds, producing songs of a spiritual nature that transcend space and time. The band’s mastery of sonic innovation also supplies additional layers of spellbinding beauty to their superbly-scripted material.
The paired pursuits of folk rock and psychedelic experimentation are strongly emphasized throughout Golden Sunshine, particularly on the title cut, which begins on mellow footing, prior to expanding into a mountain of crunchy acid-dusted jamming that reflects a head-on collision between The Byrds and Buffalo Springfield.
Assembled of honey-coated vocals, angelic harmony and rich melodies, Dr. Barnes, Lonely Man and Different Girl, kick in as subsequent stunners, as well as the hauntingly gorgeous Seabird that sweeps and swoons with a Beach Boys flavor, and appropriately concludes to a choir of chirpy feathered friends. A rougher edge guides the meaty, beaty, bouncy Strange, which provides the bluesy toot of a harmonica, while an exotic belly-dancing vibe anchors The Conversation, that includes a burst of blaring trumpets.
Pulsing with vibrant contours and a groove that energizes the soul, Golden Sunshine revisits Southern California sixties sounds with a here and now mentality. Blending discipline with spontaneity, The Vapour Trails keep their songs consistently fresh and exciting. Chock full of magical moments, Golden Sunshine catches The Vapour Trails singing and playing the kind of music they love and believe in. Such enthusiasm is infectious, which is yet another aspect that makes the band and their new album so special.
While I was driving home from work the other day, my iPod shuffled its way to “I Need You” by The Kinks. “I Need You” was the lesser-known third entry of the early Kinks’ triumvirate of powerhouse riffs, following the big 1964 hits “You Really Got Me” and “All Day And All Of The Night.” Unlike those first two, “I Need You” wasn’t a hit; it was, in fact, merely the B-side of the ’65 single “Set Me Free.” Though more obscure than its big brudders, “I Need You” nearly equals the hypnotic ferocity of its predecessors.
But my introduction to the headbanging splendor of “I Need You” did not come via The Kinks. I first heard the song when The Flashcubes included it in their live sets in 1978. Love at first power chord!
It occurred to me that there were several Kinks songs which I discovered vicariously. Among my all-time favorite rock ‘n’ roll acts, The Kinks are the only one where my initial exposure to a number of their classic songs came when somebody else covered ’em. That’s certainly not true of any songs by The Flashcubes, The Ramones, or The Monkees. The only Beatles songs I remember first hearing second-hand were Anne Murray‘s “You Won’t See Me” and Rain‘s “Helter Skelter” (from the TV mini-series about Charles Manson). I knew Cliff Richard‘s “Blue Turns To Grey” before I knew The Rolling Stones‘ original. I heard Syracuse chanteuse Nanci Hammond‘s rendition of “In My Room” long before I even realized it was a Beach Boys song (which was odd, because we had the Surfer Girl LP in the family collection when I was a kid, but I didn’t notice it). Hell, it wasn’t until the 90s that I discovered The Hollies wrote and recorded the original “Have You Ever Loved Somebody,” which had been one of my Fave Raves by The Searchers. See, I never learn…!
The Kinks were a different story, and I don’t know why. Ultimately, I’m grateful for whatever twisting path brought me to Muswell Hill’s finest. I did become a Kinks fan before I heard any of these Kinks covers, but these well-respected men and women helped to enhance the journey.
As noted, Syracuse’s own power pop powerhouse The Flashcubes introduced me to The Kinks’ “I Need You.” It wasn’t the only Kinks song I heard the ‘Cubes do, but I knew “You Really Got Me,” “Where Have All The Good Times Gone” and “This Man He Weeps Tonight” well before I heard The Flashcubes cover them live. (Among other songs the ‘Cubes taught me were Big Star‘s “September Gurls,” The Jam‘s “In The City,” Eddie & the Hot Rods‘ “Do Anything You Wanna Do,” The New York Dolls‘ “Personality Crisis,” Chris Spedding‘s “Boogie City” and “Hey Miss Betty,” April Wine‘s “Tonight Is A Wonderful Time,” and Eddie Cochran‘s “Somethin’ Else.” I love The Flashcubes.) After hearing the ‘Cubes perform “I Need You,” I really wanted to hear The Kinks! However, The Kinks’ Kinkdom LP was outta print at the time, and a used copy at Desert Shore Records in Syracuse was stickered with a higher price than this po’ college student could afford. Finally snagged it on a budget compilation in the mid ’80s.
By far the most recent example on this list. When my nephew Tim co-hosted This Is Rock ‘n’ Roll Radio a few years back, his playlist included Holly Golightly’s covers of two Ray Davies songs, “Tell Me Now So I’ll Know” and “Time Will Tell,” both from her 2003 album Truly She Is None Other. I wasn’t immediately familiar with either song–The Kinks’ version of “Time Will Tell” was an unreleased demo track at the time–but they got my attention. Holly Golightly’s magnificent rendition of “Time Will Tell” is one of but three Kinks covers out there that I prefer to the original version.
I’m pretty sure I heard Herman’s Hermits’ hit cover of “Dandy” well before I heard The Kinks’ original. It may have been close, though; I don’t remember “Dandy” on the radio at all, not even on oldies shows, so I may not have heard it until I bought a used copy of the Hermits’ “Dandy” single in the late ’70s.
I once wrote in Goldmine that the great Boston group Lyres didn’t want to be like the early Kinks, they wanted to be the early Kinks. I meant it as a compliment, and Lyres’ On Fyre remains one of my very favorite albums of the ’80s. On Fyre includes a cover of The Kinks’ “Tired Of Waiting For You,” and I certainly knew that one already. But I didn’t know “Love Me Till The Sun Shines,” a Dave Davies song, and Lyres’ version just floored me. Another one of the three Kinks covers I prefer to the original.
Yeah, The Pretenders’ “Stop Your Sobbing” is the third of the three Kinks covers I prefer to the original. Whatta record! The Pretenders also introduced me to another obscure Kinks song, “I Go To Sleep” (also covered by Peggy Lee), but “Stop Your Sobbing” was the kingpin.
The Records’ 1979 eponymous debut album originally came with a 7″ EP of covers. Of the four EP songs, the only original I knew beforehand was The Rolling Stones’ “Have You Seen Your Mother Baby (Standing In The Shadows).” I don’t think I knew Spirit‘s “1984.” I definitely did not know Blue Ash‘s power pop classic “Abracadabra (Have You Seen Her).” Nor did I know The Kinks’ wonderful “See My Friends,” which is now one of my many favorite Kinks tracks, but which was introduced to me via a cover by The Records. Thanks, lads!
Nope. Just kidding. And once again: why do I love The Kinks? Because they’re The Kinks. And God save The Kinks.
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It has been scientifically proven that music is a great healer. That said – especially now, when the world as we know it has literally collapsed – we need music more than ever to maintain a positive outlook. Here are ten pop songs that never fail to put a smile on my face, and are bound to brighten your day as well.
“And Your Bird Can Sing” (1966) The Beatles. Although the lyrics are cut of a cryptic nature, explosive harmonies, combined with chiming guitars spinning and tumbling with velocity, furnish “And Your Bird Can Sing” with a joyous tenor that grips the both the mind and the body.
“Precious To Me” (1980) Phil Seymour. From the sweet and shiny Buddy Holly influenced vocals to the clutching hooks to the neat and tidy instrumentation, “Precious To Me” not only serves as the quintessential pop song, but a superbly-articulated sonic sentiment. Precious indeed.
“Let’s Go To San Francisco” (1967) The Flower Pot Men. Lushly textured and bursting at the seams with dazzling Beach Boys styled vocal exercises, “Let’s Go To San Francisco” checks in as a charming ode to the beautiful city by the Bay. Subtle drug references led the song to be banned from many American playlists, but topped the charts in England.
“I Know You’re Out There Somewhere” (1988) The Moody Blues. Shimmering with spirituality, “I Know You’re Out There Somewhere” sends a telepathic SOS to a long lost love with the certanity they will meet again. Ethereal vocals, accompanied by sweeping synthesizer slopes and a nice mix of acoustic and electic guitars, supply the gorgeously-groomed song with equal amounts of yearning and hope.
“She Don’t Care About Time” (1965) The Byrds. Authored by Byrds founder, vocalist and tambourine man Gene Clark, “She Don’t Care About Time” sparkles and swirls to the legendary band’s signature stance of jangling riffs and heavenly choruses. As the cherry on the sundae, the song adds a classical touch to the proceedings in the form of a Bach inspired passage.
“Not Alone Anymore” (1988) The Traveling Wilburys. Guided by Roy Orbison’s soaring lung power that invariably produces goosepimples from head to toe, “Not Alone Anymore” is a booming ballad, promising love, comfort and security. Fellow Traveling Wilburys George Harrison and Jeff Lynne also lend their assistance to the heart-swelling presentation.
“I Hear A Symphony” (1966) The Supremes. Stepping in as yet another solid gold hit from the Motown factory, “I Hear A Symphony” begins on a rather soft note before gradually ballooning into a super-sized symphony of bellowing brass arrangements, glossy melodies and supremely Supreme harmonies.
“Summerlove Sensation” (1974) The Bay City Rollers. Reflecting a cross between The Beach Boys and Raspberries, “Summerlove Sensation” smacks of carefree happiness. Sprinkled with twinkling sleigh bells, the invigorating song pours a premium on sunny singing and a bubbly beat all in the name of teen romance.
“I Can Hear The Grass Grow” (1967) The Move. Designed of psychedelic impressions, “I Can Hear The Grass Grow” favors a quick and effective pace, humming with stirring licks, galloping rhythms, skyscraper choruses, pulsating percussion and bracing breaks. Hammering hard rock currents to pop sensibilities, the technicolor tune allows the imagination to run wild. The line – “My head’s attracted to a magnetic wave of sound” – drives the point home.
“Here Comes That Rainy Day Feeling Again” (1971) The Fortunes. Despite the sad prose involving a guy who apparently only sees his girlfriend on Sunday, and therefore, dreads Monday, “Here Comes That Rainy Day Feeling Again” possesses a pretty and punchy tone that immediately energizes the soul. Smartly structured and polished with precision, the tasty tune is doubly highlighted by the exceptional harmony prowess The Fortunes are recognized for.