Saturday, May 26, 2007 Eddie Fisher, "I'm Walking Behind You" (July 25, 1953) It just dawned on me why I can't take Eddie Fisher seriously: he sounds like Art Carney. Or maybe Daws Butler imitating Art Carney. Either way, there is no way a song can remain unscorched from this accidental resonance, and when you factor in the subject matter, the fucker gets burnt to a crisp. It's a rewrite of "I Went to Your Wedding" -- former flame goes to ex's wedding -- but written from the perspective of a man, and reflective of male privilege: while Patti takes it for granted that the marriage renders future happiness of any kind impossible, Eddie not only figures he might fall in love again but getting his ex back is totally within the realm of the possible. And an angelic soprano, perhaps suggesting the bride's thoughts, echoes his words in the background. Grotesque. 1 (link)

Thursday, May 24, 2007 Percy Faith, "The Song From Moulin Rouge (Where Is Your Heart)" (May 16, 1953) I can read music -- very slowly and very badly -- but as I don't have the sheet music in front of me, the most trenchant musicological analysis I can give this track is that boy, sometimes it sounds like Debussy. It opens with a glissy orchestral slide of uncertain tonality, echoed throughout the track by vibes and/or woodwinds, giving a "dreamy" and "ambiguous" quality to what would otherwise be an easy-listening readymade avec chick singer. Debussy's filtration into mass culture isn't much of a surprise to me, as the song was originally featured in Moulin Rouge, a Hollywood bio about Debussy contemporary Toulouse-Lautrec, and even from my non-exhaustive knowledge of movies I know that the composer's bag of tricks had often been sacked by Hollywood since the talkies if not before (plus it was co-written by Georges Auric, former member of the Satie/Milhaud/Poulenc mob Les Six!). What does surprise me a little, and makes me almost pre-disposed to liking this song, is how that ambiguous feel is used not merely to portray exoticism but doubt, not a very popular subject for pop during this time: "when we kiss, do you close your eyes, pretending I'm someone else?" Sister, maybe he's gay! Ha ha, uh... 6 (link)

Wednesday, May 23, 2007 Patti Page, "The Doggie in the Window" (March 21, 1953) "...Elvis altered America to the fact that it had a groin with imperatives that had been stifled...Elvis kicked "How Much Is That Doggie in the Window" out the window and replaced it with 'Let's fuck.'" -- Lester Bangs So this is the enemy, then? Let's get right to the analysis. Perhaps it's silly to try to deduce why the song's narrator is going to California, maybe in the song's universe there is no why at all BUT I'd say if anything, it's probably business -- if an adult woman circa 1953 was to travel for any other reason, like to visit family or go on vacation, I think anybody she'd call "her sweetheart" would be expected to join her. So at the very least she's a fairly autonomous woman, possibly a career woman, maybe even "Patti Page" headed for an L.A. recording session. In contrast to the glamorous independence of Patti's doppelgänger, her significant other is dependent. He isn't manly enough to protect himself against "robbers" without a dog -- or her -- and he's going to be prevented from sowing his oats with another woman by having to take care of the damned thing. So much like a man forced to wear his wife's apron, the song is making a quaint joke about male domestication, describing a man under a woman's thumb even as she's physically absent. Going through iTunes and allmusic.com, I don't see a single "straight" take on this song by a man, which doesn't surprise me at all. I can't see how the song would work if gender-reversed: it'd mean a guy leaving a woman alone with only a dog for protection against "robbers" -- or worse -- and that specter of violence against women would destroy whatever made the song even marginally amusing. (Judging by an iTunes excerpt, the Persuasions avoid this problem by having a child sing the verses, with the kid buying a dog for their mommy.) But it's pretty obvious a male singer couldn't hack the arrangement, either: its trilling woodwinds and dainty pace code the song as unmistakably feminine. Taken in this light, if we accept Simon Reynolds' and Joy Press' argument in The Sex Revolts that at the heart of certain kinds of rock rebelliousness lies a terror of being tamed by women, it suddenly becomes clear why "Doggie" has so long served as the synecdoche for the insipidity of pre-Elvis pop where more popular or (I'd argue) much worse records from the era no longer maintain much liminal presence in popular consciousness: this seriously sissy record offends rock self-image in ways that crap like "Oh Mein Pa-Pa" or Mitch Miller's "The Yellow Rose of Texas" never did. No, I don't think this song is very good; it's too simple, too insistent, and too slow to be even a satisfying novelty record. Had I been around in '53, its meager charms would've been destroyed from constant exposure -- eight weeks at number one! eighteen weeks in the top ten! But it's not really the enemy, either. 4 (link)

Sunday, May 20, 2007 Teresa Brewer, "Till I Waltz Again With You" (February 13, 1953) For the longest time I found the allure of this song puzzling. A woman is force to seperate from her beloved for reasons left unspecified. She will return, reassuring him that she will "keep her promise true," etc. etc. It seemed like an ordinary if melodramatic plaint until I noticed what the music was doing: being ordinary but unmelodramatic. The orchestra behind her just kinda shuffles along in a way usually reserved for lyrics with maybe a tiny spark of wit or comedy or passion -- not doting. This dissonance between music and lyric doesn't undermine the song at all, though. Brewer's voice, clear and strong, won't allow doubts about her sincerity, and even if I'm never comfortable with women singers from this era pleading true faith, she does acquit herself with a sly elegance. (Another amusing irony: this song isn't a waltz.) 6 (link)