Rick Sanders of Intro reviews the latest discs. Published in the magazine during November 1967
DANCING IN THE STREETS – RAMSEY LEWIS:
It’s way past two in the morning and nearly all the guests have gone home from the party. There are still a few couples on their feet dancing. Now is the time to put this Ramsey Lewis version of the old Martha and the Vandellas’ classic on the record player. It’s the ultimate in funky soul music for the early hours – totally different in every way from any other version of the song you may have heard (such as The Who’s).
You can’t really call it blues, you can’t call it pop, you can’t call it jazz: it’s just the groovy sound of Ramsey Lewis. Incidentally, the record company have put out Dancing In The Streets as the “B” side; the “A” side is a dreary version of Girl Talk.
BE MINE—THE TREMELOES:
I don’t go a bundle on this one, which is something of a let-down after Even The Bad Times Are Good. It’s the English version of an Italian song Mi Seguirai and is a slow, boring ballad. The group don’t play badly, it’s simply that the song itself is a dead loss. Maybe in Milan they rave over this romantic corn, but I can’t see it being anything like as big as The Tremeloes‘ previous hits in jolly old swinging Britain.
MY ELUSIVE DREAMS—MOSES AND JOSHUA DILLARD:
What a glorious pair of names! The record is pretty fine tool. It’s an irresponsible rock/blues song with a rhythm that would make a statue twitch . . . It’s jangly, beefy, soulful, exuberant, and you can’t help getting caught up and carried away with it. Dillard belt out a soul dialogue to each other wild at the clubs. Sock it to ’em, Moses and Joshua!
THREE O’CLOCK FLAMINGO STREET – THE BACHELORS:
Well, I’ll be a Monkee’s uncle.At last the impossible has happened. The Bachelors, every mother’s favourite sons, have come across with a truly great progressive record. Three O’Clock Flamingo Street is none of your expected sentimental syrup. It’s a fast-moving city poem set to music, very much in the style of Simon and Garfunkel. I hope and pray (and expect) that it’ll be a big hit and keep the Bachelors on the real music scene, well away from the cloying style of old.
THE MAGIC OF THE PLAYGROUND —JULIE FELIX:
Julie is one product of the folk boom of a couple of years ago who has successfully broadened her appeal without “going commercial” and selling out to Tin Pan Alley. On this single her strong, sincere voice sounds better than ever before with a beautiful song of love in the city. I hope it’ll get the success it deserves. (Rick Sanders 04/11/67)
I HEARD A HEART BREAK LAST NIGHT—JIM REEVES:
Well, you all know by now exactly what to expect from the late Jim Reeves. And you won’t be disappointed by this -it’ll be yet another Reeves C & W hit, much to nobody’s surprise. Not my cup of tea, I’m afraid. I think I’ll just sleep this one out, if you don’t mind.
LIFE IS JUST BEGINNING—THE CREATION:
On this showing, Creation will soon be able to take their place in the sky alongside The Beatles, Who, Traffic, and Cream. They’ve done some good stuff in the past—but this one beats the lot. It starts with a string quartet—then in from the distance come the chanting voices and shimmering tambourine. Suddenly you find yourself involved in a beautifully imaginative production with violins one moment, thudding bass the next, and the compelling, almost angelic voices of the group coming out on top of it all. A great record—and bound for glory very soon I think.
YOU DON’T KNOW ME—ELVIS PRESLEY:
How are the mighty fallen! Old Elvis just seems to get more and more colourless with every record. This one is a remake of Ray Charles’ hit song of a few years ago, and it simply isn’t in the same class. Where’s all the fire we once knew and loved? Where’s all the originality, the excitement, from the man who once out-raged every solid decent citizen in the western world with his anguished voice, frenzied hip twitch and curling lip? If he will insist on bringing out horrible records like this, it’s time Elvis set sail to the Falkland Islands. Or Afghanistan. Or anywhere in the world he likes as long as it means I won’t have to cringe through any more of his treacly output of lousy films and records.
I BELIEVE MY TIME AIN’T LONG—PETER GREEN’S FLEETWOOD MAC:
The Mac, led by ex-Blues breaker Pete Green, have amassed a multitude of worshippers over recent months. And no wonder—they play real blues. This single, the first on CBS’s Blue Horizon label, is a sliding, searing bottleneck blues in the style of the late Elmore James, played for keeps with a pounding beat from bass and drums and a great vocal performance. The “B” side, Ramblin’ Pony hangs on the same tune as the Cream’s Rolling and Tumbling, and I’d call it sheer brilliance. A restrained and very moving song that has the emotional strength of a musical sledgehammer. (Rick Sanders 11/11/67)
SHAME—THE ALAN PRICE SET:
This is a brilliant record. Repeat. This is a brilliant record . . . A huge, tragic sound rolling down and down, with the incredible Set putting all their heart and soul into a song that comes thudding into your mind. And rising above everything the magnificent voice, piano and organ of Alan Price. He wrote this song, all about the wasted lives of two people in two dead-end jobs, and the emotional power of it is something fantastic. I’m not exaggerating when I say that Shame is getting pretty close to raw genius.
THE LAMENT OF THE CHEROKEE RESERVATION INDIAN—DON FARDON:
No reservations at all in recommending this. It’s one of the songs off the John D. Loudermilk LP that’s just come out, and as you might have deduced, it’s a protest. These original inhabitants of the U.S. have been cheated into becoming no more than second-class citizens for the tourists to gawp at. This single is a proud, ominous thunder-cloud of a song.
SCHOOLGIRL — THE MINDBENDERS:
Hearken unto the woeful tale of the schoolgirl with seven G.C.E.s who was loved and left by the nasty student Casanova. That’s what it’s all about—and I’d say it’s the best ever from the Mindbenders. Wah-wah a la Hendrix, heavenly harmonies, an orchestra that swings like Pete Townshend’s right arm. I think it’s great. I think five or six million will agree with me.
ALL MY LOVE — CLIFF RICHARD:
Thumbs down—this latest single from Cliff isn’t a rubber patch on Marie. It’s a lilting load of Mediterranean eyewash that even he can’t bring to life.
SO TIRED — FRANKIE VAUGHAN:
So you’re tired, Frankie? Well, that makes two. I’m pretty tired of hearing boring old codswallop like this. And even more tired of seeing it in the charts when it should have been left to rot in a star-spangled candyfloss tomb years ago.
YOU’RE THE REASON I’M LIVING—THE PEDDLERS:
No hit for the Peddlers yet—but this group are bursting at the seams with sheer talent. The lead singer, Roy Phillips, has got the art of sounding like Ray Charles down to perfection—and class like this will always win through.
A WALK IN THE SKY—THE FLOWER POT MEN:
This follow up to the dreary Let’s Go to San Francisco is a far, far better thing altogether. It’s got more power, more originality, and seems to have left all the bandwagons to trundle on their way. And my ball of crystal says that this could very easily go skywards. (Rick Sanders 18/11/67)
I ONLY LIVE TO LOVE YOU—CILLA BLACK:
That’s the sort of thing j like to hear girls say: but I can’t say this is the sort of music I like to hear them sing. Our Cilia has abandoned the teenage scene and disappeared into the twilight zone of mums, dads, budgies and Sunday Plight at the Palladium, and this should keep them happy. It is a waltz. A simple song that’s going to be murdered by brassy Berthas at pub concerts throughout the country for the next eighteen months. Still, let us not mock. Cilia has chosen her audience and knows what to feed them; and perhaps one day she’ll return to the fold.
SWEET, SWEET LOVIN’—THE PLATTERS:
I can remember raving about the Platters when I was a nasty little boy of nine, way back in the dark ages of rock and roll. But the years haven’t taken their toll—they still sound great. Sweet, Sweet Lovin’ is as good as anything else on the soul scene these days. It’s go, go, go right from the rocking piano intro, punching new blood into what’s now a pretty tired fashion. Listen to that excitement which brought them success all those centuries ago. This group knows how to come across with the real McCoy—whoever he is.
ANGEL OF THE MORNING—BLUE DAVIS:
She’s been out of it a long time, too. But Billie’s back now and as long as she makes beautiful records like this, she’s my angel of morning, noon and night. It must get her back in the charts. The song is nothing less than a little masterpiece about boy leaving girl. Quiet, powerful lyrics which aren’t sickly in the least, above at first, a tender, gentle backing. Then the flood gates of emotion burst and Billie sings out her soul on the crest of a surging, over-whelming crescendo. Altogether a tremendous song, brilliant arrangement (by Mike Vickers, late of Manfred Mann) and some of the most moving singing ever. My words just aren’t enough. Hear the record and you’ll know exactly what I mean,
DISRAELI GEARS—THE CREAM:
It’s usually only singles in the column, but once in a while comes an LP which is a pop landmark. This is one of them. Jack, Eric and Ginger show us how far ahead they are of the rest when it comes to sheer creation. On Disraeli Gears, they give free rein to all their technical brilliance in a set made up of fire, dreams, earthquake, poetry and one of the most appallingly funny traditional airs ever recorded. This wonder album should have come out months ago—a curse upon the hang-ups which made us wait.
SONS AND LOVERS—PAUL JONES:
Paul of the 500 horse-povver voice goes to town on a pure five horse-power song. I regret to announce that Sons And Lovers won’t make me want to hear it again. Paul Jones has done so much better than this in the past—a great singer like himself deserves a better fate than I fear he’ll get with Sons And Lovers. ********** (Rick Sanders 25/11/67)
Leave a Reply