Tuesday, August 24, 2010

alvin!!!!! (4CE reprint dec 2009)

ALLLLLLVIIIIIN !!!

Once upon a time in the 1950's there were 3 executives at Liberty Records named Al, Ted, and Sy, which is to say Alvin Bennett, Theodore Keep and Simon Waronker. They're gone now, but their names live on of course as the Chipmunks. This month, everything you didn't know you wanted to know about the rodents and their Baby Boomer Christmas perennial "The Chipmunk Song."

First, though, why that title? After all, the hundreds of recordings that came after were all "chipmunk songs", right? Well, Ross Bagdasarian, a.k.a. David Seville, didn't know the record would give birth to a franchise that's still going strong today. As far as he was concerned, this could’ve been the first and last chipmunk song. But it went to #1 in 1958, and when re-released in 1959 and thereafter, it was subtitled "Christmas Don't Be Late", and had a new B-side, the follow-up hit "Alvin's Harmonica." The original 1958 flip was a non-Chipmunk instrumental called "Almost Good", which is actually pretty good.

Ross Bagdasarian, born in Fresno, California, was an aspiring actor, musician, composer and dialect comedian. With his cousin, playwright William Saroyan, he recorded "Come On-a My House" in 1951, a song they had written together in 1939. His then wife Kay Armen also recorded a version with the Ray Charles Singers (see last month's column!), but it was Rosemary Clooney's smash version that convinced Ross maybe he did have a future in music. Moderate chart success came in 1955 with "The Trouble With Harry" by Alfi & Harry. He was Alfi, Harry was Mark McIntyre, another Liberty Records exec, and father of the singing duo Patience and Prudence. (Ross is sometimes incorrectly credited with being their dad.) On this single, Harry is a wayward piano-player, and Alfi provides the narration, becoming exasperated with Harry's antics, a routine that would be re-cycled for the Chipmunks phenomenon: ALLLLLLLVIIIIIIN!!!!

But further Alfi & Harry singles tanked, as did a "David Seville" album. (Ross was stationed in Seville, Spain during WWII.) The song "Witch Doctor" was a last-gasp effort, and it scored big, #1 in Billboard, thanks I believe more to the catchy "oo-ee-oo-ah-ah" chorus than the squeaky high voice; the voice gimmick was tried again, but wasn't enough to save the lack-luster follow-up "The Bird on My Head." Still, Ross figured if one squeaky voice is good, 3 must be better. And boy was he right.

Speed manipulation had been used before. Remember "The Wizard of Oz"? Some early 50's records used fast adult voices to simulate a children's chorus. From the invention of tape recorders in the 1930s, they generally had several speeds. In fact, an early application which apparently fizzled out fast was called "speed telephoning"...playing a recorded message over the phone at fast-speed, then slowing it down for playback. But the speeded voice was difficult to understand; that's why Disney's Chip 'n' Dale spoke in such short, clipped phrases. You could only double or halve the speed, nothing in between. Variable speed recorders were complicated and expensive, but Ross bought one for the price of a decent used car, and fine-tuned the technique to make the voices intelligible. But the real innovation was the use of multi-track recording, pioneered by Les Paul, who BTW claimed he gave Ross the key idea.

And that idea was to take a pre-recorded music track, slow it down, sing along with it, then speed it up again. The slowed down music would be back to sounding normal, but the normal voice would now be squeaky. Contrast that with Danny Kaye's 1942 record "The Babbitt and the Bromide", where 2 stuffy society gents trade pleasantries, and when they arrive in heaven, the chorus is speeded up, voices, music and all. One of the first things I did when I came to work at WSLB in Ogdensburg was to try the technique with another DJ as the Singing Squirrels, Monty & Raoul. You can hear our primitive effort on Dec. 18's Zillion Dollar Friday on WGIX 95.3...at 7am we'll do a Chipmunks special.

But the innovation didn't end there. Each of the voices on "The Chipmunk Song" had to be recorded, along with the slowed down music, separately. With only 2 tracks on recording tape, that would have meant a lot of re-recording (called in the business "bouncing") and a subsequent loss of fidelity. So Ross used 4 tape recorders, one for each voice! And how did he synch them all up perfectly? By recording on 35mm film stock, which was easy to synchronize, since a movie's picture and soundtrack obviously have to be precisely aligned.

(As a curious sidelight, cigarettes were instrumental in the development of the modern tape-recorder. Up thru the 1920s, magnetic recording was done on steel wire or thin steel strips, which were expensive and impractical: for edits or repairs, they had to be welded! Meanwhile, a German tobacco company wanted to replace the thin bands of gold on the tips of their high-end smokes with something less expensive. Austrian inventor Fritz Pfleumer came up with a way to bond thin strips of bronze onto paper, and while bronze isn't magnetic, it occurred to him the same method would work with an iron alloy that was. Thus, the tape came first, with the modern recorder being redesigned around it, the paper backing eventually replaced by flexible plastic.)


Released in late 1958, "The Chipmunk Song" sold 4 million copies in 7 weeks. A month after that Christmas, Ross turned 40, hardly an overnight success. The single came in a picture sleeve illustrating the chipmunks as ugly cartoon rodents, identical except for the initial on their sweaters. On the "Ed Sullivan Show", they were hand puppets. Eventually they became more like little boys on the animated "Alvin Show" which began in 1961. Interestingly, on that show the Chipmunks want to sing "Witch Doctor." Dave says: "I already made that record." Alvin replies: "Not with us you didn't!" And so they do.


What followed was an avalanche of squeaky voice imitators, all manner of insects, birds, creatures and critters. Artists like the Coasters ("Charlie Brown" and "Little Egypt") and Sheb Wooley ("Purple People Eater" and "Luke the Spook") jumped on the bandwagon. One of the strangest was Jesse Lee Turner's "Little Space Girl." She wants to marry him, but he demurs, because she has multiple arms, lips, eyes, etc. Well, Ok, he finally gives in. And on thru the 60's & 70's...Ray Stevens ("Bridget the Midget"), David Bowie ("The Laughing Gnome"), the Cowsills ("Gotta Get Away"), a CB radio take-off with Shirley & Squirrelly, and coming full circle when Chip 'n' Dale recorded "The Chipmunk Song" in 1981.

Then there's the version of "The Chipmunk Song" the Chipmunks recorded in 1968 with Canned Heat of all people..."Hey you mice, get out of our recording studio!" Ross Bagdasarian died in 1972, but his son Ross Jr. took over, and recently turned 60, making him 9 years older than his 3 little brothers. Till next time, hope you get that hula hoop...(how do you wrap a hula hoop?)...and rock on!

Monday, August 16, 2010

hit or myth? (4CE reprint may 2010)

You may have noticed I deleted all the "Baker's Dozen" columns. They are now a daily feature at Stolf's Blog, http://stolf.wordpress.com. Instead, I'll post some more reprints from "4th Coast Entertainment", viz....


Hit or Myth?


As a young man, Fidel Castro had a pitching tryout with the Washington Senators. One of the all-time great "what-if" rumors, but completely false. What makes it sound plausible is the fact that of the 47 Cubans who played in the majors from 1935-55, 31 spent time with the Senators. Owner Clark Griffith liked those low wages, so they say. Plus, Castro was big in baseball, soccer and track in college, but he graduated with a law degree, and worked early on as a lawyer. Everybody in Cuba knows he didn’t have the level of playing skills needed to be a pro, writes Yale Professor Roberto Gonzalez Echevarria in his history of Cuban baseball.

Soon after the revolution, Castro did pitch in an exhibition game with his team Los Barbudos ("The Bearded Ones.") According to "The Sporting News," he pitched one inning, and notched 2 K's, with help from the umpire: "When the arbiter called the batter out on a high, inside pitch, Castro dashed to the plate and shook hands with the ump." It's good to be the king.

Charles Manson auditioned to be a Monkee. Another oft-told myth bites the dust. It is well-documented that he was in prison at the time on a ten-year mail theft and forgery rap. Among the 437 hopefuls who did answer the ad in "Variety" was Stephen Stills. He recounts how they liked his overall looks, except for his crooked teeth and thinning hair. They asked if he knew anyone who looked like him, and he recommended a Greenwich Village buddy of his, Peter Tork!

Superman failed his army induction physical. A hit, although oddly enough, it didn't happen in the comic books. Closest we get is this note in Superman #25, Nov/Dec 1942: "Millions of Superman readers will recall that Clark Kent tried to enlist, but was rejected for faulty vision when his x-ray vision penetrated the eye-chart and read a different chart in the next room." This happened on Feb 18 1942, in the daily Superman newspaper strip.

Says a bewildered Clark: "There must be some mistake!...The Army doesn't want me?" The doc replies: "You're physically superb, except you're obviously blind as a bat...you muffed every line." Sure enough, the next panel shows how he x-rayed though the wall. But no worries: he realized, as the note says, he could "be of more value on the home front operating as a free agent."

Eddie Haskell of "Leave It To Beaver" grew up to be Alice Cooper. Total myth, although Alice himself is inadvertently to blame. Eddie was played by actor Ken Osmond, who grew up to be an L.A. cop (and not porn-star John Holmes, as another rumor has it.) In the late 60s, Vince Furnier and his band the Spiders were struggling, so they decided to take a more theatrical approach, with the new persona "Alice Cooper."

Publicity at the time claimed a ouija board told Vince he was the reincarnation of a 17th century witch by that name, but this was a complete fabrication. Today he says he just picked the name out of the air, because it sounded like "a sweet little girl with a hatchet behind her back." Aunt Bee's replacement on "Mayberry RFD", Alice Cooper, played by Alice Ghostly, is apparently just coincidence, as is the mother of Archie's friend Betty, also Alice Cooper.

But what launched the story was Vince's statement in an interview that as a kid he was Eddie Haskell. He meant that was his obnoxious personality, but it was taken literally. An interesting note on Eddie Haskell: in the pilot episode, the character, then named Frankie Bennett, was played by a young Harry Shearer, best know as Spinal Tap's bass-player, and for numerous voices on "The Simpsons." Wally was also played by a different actor, Paul Sullivan, as was Ward, Casey Adams.

Speaking of the Monkees, Jimi Hendryx was once their opening act. True! But what were they thinking? Well, what they were thinking was: Wow! This guy is good! The Monkees just wanted to watch & listen to him perform every night. For Jimi's part, he had 3 top-ten hits in England, but zip stateside, so he figured it'd be good exposure, despite having called the Monkees, in an printed interview several months earlier, "dishwater."

So he signed up for a summer tour in 1967, with predictable results. He's going "foxy...lady..." while the fans are screaming "Davy...Davy..." After half-a-dozen shows, he snapped, flipped the audience the bird, and stormed off the stage. The Monkees let him out of his contract, parting ways amicably. "Purple Haze" was just breaking over the horizon...


The lyrics to John Fred and the Playboy Band's "Judy in Disguise with Glasses" make no sense. This is a half-truth, because some of them actually do make sense. The group from Baton Rouge enjoyed regional success as a boogie-oriented bar band, and if you're looking for "new oldies," their greatest hits CD is highly recommended. "Judy" came about when John Fred Gourrier misheard the lyrics to "Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds" and the whole thing was meant as a goof, which nonetheless catapulted them to their 15 minutes of fame. They hated the song, but whutcha gonna do?

Some of the lyrics have been deciphered: "Cross your heart with your living bra" of course refers to the Playtex advertising slogan. "A circus of horrors, that's what you are" is from a 1960 British horror movie by that name. More obscure is the line: "Keep wearing your bracelets and your raras." That's how you'll see the lyrics listed, but it should be spelled "rah-rahs." It was slang in the South 2-tone Oxford shoes, the kind cheerleaders wore. Up north we called them saddle shoes.

But the lines "a chimney sweep sparrow with guise [guys?]" and "you made me a life of ashes" really don't make any sense, if that's what he's really singing. The mystery is why someone doesn't just ask the dude. Also, you may read that John Fred's dad Fred Gourrier was a local celebrity, having played shortstop for the Detroit Tigers. What people don't realize is for 40 years there have been reference books that list everybody who ever played in the Majors, even if for just one game. Now it's all on-line, and if your name ain't there, game over. Turns out Fred was in the farm system, but never made it to The Show.

Postscript on the "Man from U.N.C.L.E." column... The internet says Del Floria, whose tailor shop in NYC "on a street in the East 40's" was the "agents' entrance," had no first name. Wrong! In "The Concrete Overcoat Affair," Mr. Waverly calls him "Bill." That's what happens when you buy the complete DVD set, a Christmas gift from me to me, and watch the whoooooole thing. Anyway, you saw it here first...till next time, rock on!