Well, the Tijuana Brass weren’t really from Tijuana, just some L.A. studio musicians to play along with Herb Alpert. And those bass drum kicks that launch the in-tempo sections of “A Taste of Honey” weren’t really part of the arrangement, meant instead to be a tape-splice marker. Nonetheless, the single achieved very real success, reaching #7 on Billboard in 1965. The single was taken from the album Whipped Cream and Other Delights, released on Alpert’s own label A&M, featuring the most famous album cover of the 20th century (ed. note: perhaps I’m biased in that opinion).
“A Taste of Honey” was written by Bobby Scott and Ric Marlow.for the Broadway version of a British play of the same name, later made into a movie. There are many cover versions, including a vocal version by the Beatles recorded in 1963. There’s a half-step upwards modulation up at 2:12.
As of this writing, Herb Alpert is still playing. Below, we’re including the same tune, performed this month at the Hollywood Bowl.
“Scott Walker … the pop idol turned crooner turned shocking avant-garde auteur, died (in 2019) at age 76, but not before leaving behind one of the most fascinating catalogues of the rock era,” (The Second Disc). “An American and child actor on Broadway who found his success in England as one third of The Walker Brothers, Scott could have been content reliving his glory days of ‘The Sun Ain’t Gonna Shine Anymore,’ ‘Make It Easy on Yourself,’ and ‘Joanna.’ But the uncompromising artist never stopped pushing the envelope, as a songwriter, performer, and producer.
… The music business is famous for hyperbole, but it’s no exaggeration to say that few have had a career anything like that of Scott Walker. An American who skyrocketed to fame on British shores in the heady time that was the mid-1960s, Walker (born Noel Scott Engel in 1943) turned his back on the world of a pop idol. He became one of the first major performers to embrace and champion the dark musical melodramas of Jacques Brel but that, too, didn’t last long. After some largely undistinguished albums recorded during his self-described ‘lost years’ and a period of relative seclusion, Walker emerged, creating provocative soundscapes that dispensed with any traditional notions of melody or songwriting.”
“Angelica” (1967), written by Brill Building legends Barry Mann and Cynthia Weil, begins in B minor. At 1:10, a soaring vocal melody leads us into the first chorus, with a shift into B major. At 2:03, the pattern repeats, beginning with a second minor verse.
“Motown was on a tear, no question, and for most fans 1966 marks the apogee of the label’s anything-but-mythical Golden Age, the time when everyone at Hitsville was at their very best,” (Motown Junkies). “Motown’s prodigious output would be one thing, but the quality of that output at the time is, by and large, the stuff the label’s legend is built upon. Just as the city’s motor industry was firing on all cylinders, Motown brought worldwide attention to Detroit in the mid-Sixties, as the most successful music industry talent-spotting and -gathering operation of all time came to fruition. Berry Gordy had gathered around him the absolute cream of the industry’s black American talent, whether that meant in songwriting, musicianship, production, singing, dancing, marketing … you name it, Motown probably had someone who was the best at it.
… The Four Tops had somehow lasted until 1964 as perennial and well-known ‘local talent’ before getting a single on Motown, ten hitless years of hard slog rewarded and paid in full. By teaming the Tops with the Andantes, the immortal Motown female backing singers, the Holland-Dozier-Holland team created something close to alchemy, a blend of beautiful voices and gritty soul sensibilities verging on the perfect (and sometimes, as in the case of their début Motown 45 ‘Baby I Need Your Loving,’ actually perfect) … The Sound of Young America, conquering the world.
The biggest trademark of the genius Holland-Dozier-Holland writing and production team … is fully present and correct here. Not the 4/4 floor-filling beat, or the crotchet pulses the Funk Brothers throw in on the beat to keep things driving along, or even the swooping, sweetening vocal harmonies that lift those heavenly band tracks to another yet-higher celestial plane. Those are all here, alright, but I’m talking about another signature HDH feature, namely their ability to take a driving, fully danceable upbeat tune, and promptly marry it to the most anguished and depressing lyrics you could come up with. This is a song about a guy who is losing his mind, paranoid and permanently on edge, plagued by fears his partner is about to walk out on him, stoked by (possibly imaginary) rumors, fueled by insomnia. And it sounds like a party, like the narrator’s pain would make a great ringtone. That, right there, is the magic of Holland-Dozier-Holland, and this is as good an example as you’ll ever find in their catalogue.”
After the anguished storytelling of the song’s first half, followed by an instrumental verse, a half-step key change hits at 1:47.
Let’s face it, most people know Neal Hefti’s music through his television theme songs. He wrote the theme for The Odd Couple and of course, the Batman theme song. Holy (if stately) Wayne Manor!
But before this television work, Hefti was a respected trumpeter and arranger for big bands dating back to the 1930s. He was a member of Woody Herman’s band, and wrote for Buddy Rich, Charlie Barnet, and Harry James. After moving to California in 1960, he wrote several film scores, including for the movie version of The Odd Couple. His film, television, and recordings earned him ten Grammy nominations, with two of those becoming awards. Besides the theme, he wrote a number of other songs for the Batman TV show, collected on a 1966 RCA release, Batman Theme & Other Bat Songs. The tune here comes from that album.
Admittedly, the tune is lightweight, if excellently played and recorded, as befits the associated subject matter — no complaints brooked. Upward modulations at 1:17 and 1:52.
“Widely acclaimed among the greatest soloists in gospel history, Clara Ward was also the subject of much criticism from purists — with her backing group, the Ward Singers, she pushed gospel out of the church and into the nightclubs, infusing the music with a shot of glitz and glamour the likes of which had never before been seen,” (AllMusic). “Decked out in colorful gowns, towering wigs, and dazzling jewelry, the Wards sang only the biggest pop-gospel hits, flamboyantly delivered for maximum commercial appeal … At their creative peak, the group was a true phenomenon, combining superb soloists, exceptional material, and innovative arrangements to leave an indelible mark on the generations of spiritual performers who followed.
While her gorgeous alto was the centerpiece of hits like ‘How I Got Over,’ arguably Ward’s greatest strength was as an arranger; ‘Surely God is Able,’ the group’s biggest hit, even introduced a new waltz rhythm into the gospel lexicon … The consensus pick as the best hymn singers in the business, the Wards also rejected the homespun choir robes of the past in favor of elaborate costumes — according to legend, on one occasion their infamous wigs grew so tall that they actually touched the ceiling. Throughout the ’50s, they were among gospel’s elite, scoring more hits and making more money than any group before them.”
To give the full picture of just how much of a departure into secular music 1966’s “Smile” was for Clara Ward, check out The Wards’ recording of “Surely God Is Able,” perhaps their most well-known release (below). Built in Eb major, the brief interlude of “Smile” (1:23 – 1:35 ) shifts into F major before returning to the original key. Originally co-written for the 1936 film Modern Times by its star, Charlie Chaplin, the track is more frequently performed as a ballad — but Ward’s decision to deliver the tune as a more up-tempo pop tune gave it new dimension.
“Winner of nine Tony Awards when it debuted in 1964, Fiddler on the Roof is the brainchild of Broadway legends Jerome Robbins and Harold Prince; songwriters Jerry Bock and Sheldon Harnick; and bookwriter Joseph Stein,” (Music Theatre International). “Touching audiences worldwide with its humor, warmth and honesty, this universal show is a staple of the musical theatre canon.
Set in the little village of Anatevka, the story centers on Tevye, a poor milkman, and his five daughters. With the help of a colorful and tight-knit Jewish community, Tevye tries to protect his daughters and instill them with traditional values in the face of changing social mores and the growing anti-Semitism of Czarist Russia. Rich in historical and ethnic detail, Fiddler on the Roof‘s universal theme of tradition cuts across barriers of race, class, nationality and religion.” The original Broadway production of the show, opening in 1964, was the first musical to surpass 3,000 performances and held the record for the longest-running Broadway musical for almost 10 years until it lost that record to Grease.
This recording features the 2004 revival of the show, which starred Alfred Molina as Tevye. After opening in C mixolydian (flat 6), at 2:04, there’s a shift to D mixolydian (flat 6); more shifts follow as each group within the village is introduced.
The Supremes’ “You Keep Me Hangin’ On” (1966) is “a brisk, urgent, desperate song, and it absolutely snaps into gear the second we hear that itchy morse-code guitar riff panning between speaker channels … (Stereogum). “‘You Keep Me Hangin’ On’ sounds easily 10 years ahead of its time, and listening to it, you can immediately hear why Diana Ross thrived in the disco era while so many of her ’60s peers flailed.
‘You Keep Me Hangin’ On’ was Holland-Dozier-Holland’s attempt to write a rock song … The guitar, from Funk Brothers ace Robert White, is foregrounded, going back and forth between that ticcing intro and deep, resonant strums. The drums and percussion work together in lockstep, pushing forward the song’s urgency. The bassline is another James Jamerson wonder, busy and complicated but never so showy that it detracts attention from the rest of the song … Holland-Dozier-Holland parted ways with Motown soon afterward, only giving the Supremes one more #1 after ‘You Keep Me Hangin’ On.’ As it turns out, the Supremes were fine without them. But listening to this, it’s still hard not to wonder what might’ve happened if they’d stuck around, if their genius had even more time to develop within that peerless Motown thrill-delivery system.”
The form starts with the chorus in Ab minor. As the tune shifts into the first verse at 0:36, B major (with a big emphasis on a compound A/B chord) goes into effect; the major key feels restful by comparison, not least due to the lack of the percolating “news bulletin theme” guitar part that skitters over the top of the rest of the tune.
“When recollecting those perpetual hit makers of the ‘60s, singer/songwriter Tommy Roe’s accomplishments are among the elite of the music industry,” (Classic Rock Music Writer). “Tommy Roe wrote and recorded six Top 10 hits between 1962 -1969, more than any other solo American artist, including eleven Top 40 hits, four certified gold singles, and two #1 Hits.
(Atlanta native) Tommy Roe is a member of the Hit Parade Hall of Fame, The Georgia Music Hall of Fame, and The Rockabilly Hall of Fame (and the) Iowa Rock ‘n’ Roll Music Association Hall of Fame. In 1966, Roe’s #8 Top 40 bubblegum hit ‘Sweet Pea’ swept the nation, followed by a British Invasion influence release ‘Hooray for Hazel,’ which reached #6 on Billboard’s Top 100.”
“Hooray for Hazel” begins in G major, but after a short drum break, a new verse begins in Ab major at 1:02. At 1:39, following another drum break, we’re back to the original key.
“(2023 marked) a half-century since the Bee Gees infiltrated the American charts with a run of singles,” (American Songwriter). “While the band rose to rarefied heights in the disco era (and plummeted just as precipitously once the genre fell out of fashion), those ’60s singles still exemplify their rare combination of pop songwriting smarts and gilded harmonies better than any of the other music they released in their storied career. And ‘I’ve Gotta Get a Message to You’ just might be the high-water mark of that period.
As Barry Gibb remembered in the liner notes to the 2006 reissue of Idea, the 1968 album that contained the song, that vocal approach was the last-minute brainchild of producer Robert Stigwood. ‘Now that was a memorable night. The song we wrote together, all three of us. I think that night, I know for a fact, we didn’t sing the choruses in harmony. Robert called us back to the studio at 11 o’clock at night and said, I want the choruses in harmony, I don’t want them in just melody. I want three-part harmony choruses. So we went in and attempted that ’round about midnight. Everyone drove back to the studio, and that’s what we did.'”
The verse of the somewhat de-tuned track begins in B major, but the chorus brings a shift to C# major at 0:33. The pattern repeats at 0:57 and 1:42 for the second and third verses and choruses, respectively. At 2:27, the chorus climbs another rung up to D# major. As was common practice at the time, the Australian trio were lip-synching to the 1968 studio track, so as was the case with most “live” (canned!) performances of the era, the visuals of the ending are a bit ragged.
” … music, most often, didn’t just materialize from nowhere. Most urgent, especially, when confronted with an album or a band that sounds as if they arrived on the wings of some unseen miracle, like someone holy opened their palm somewhere, and out came the Meters, fully formed and already spiraling through a series of immersive grooves, each of them sounding like the birth of a new universe,” (Pitchfork). “But the reality is that someone beat a drum somewhere once. Someone sounded an alarm with a voice that summoned another voice and then another. The reality is that the drums and the voices and the dancing might have taken place in American streets or in American fields, but these traditions were carried over by a people who were forced to be here, forced to work and build and care for land that wasn’t their land, families that were not their families. Their music and celebration was a reaction to that series of ongoing thefts.
… The self-titled Meters debut was released in May of 1969 and was steered by its opening track, “Cissy Strut,” which was honed for a couple of years as the band’s opening song … Their second shot, Look-Ka Py Py, was released just seven months later, before the year kicked its last bit of sand down the hourglass. And it is here that the miracle of the Meters flourishes: the band that was on stage tearing the Ivanhoe apart night after night found a way to become that same band on record. It is sort of a reverse effect, their debut album free of pressure, imagined or real.”
The title track of Look-Ka Py Py is so much about groove that its two-chord harmonic vocabulary doesn’t seem minimal in any way. But its two chords also outline two separate keys: G mixolydian is in effect throughout most of the tune, but there’s also a shift to F mixolydian (first heard between 0:27 – 0:38).
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