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August 22, 2006
Songs Left off the Pitchfork 60's List (part 2 of 2)
Our hyper picky parsing of Pitchfork's recent 200 Greatest Songs of the 1960's feature continues today as promised with the final two categories; Artists who were underrepresented by the epic list, and pet obscurities that we might have fought for if given the chance.
Read part 1 here.
Shafted:
One of the strongest singer/songwriters in any decade, Leonard Cohen might have suffered for his longevity in the compiling of the list. His best song not included, "Famous Blue Raincoat", came from the seventies, after all. The two songs that did make the cut, "So Long, Marianne" (#190) and "Suzanne" (#41) get no dispute, but Cohen deserves at least to tie Pasty Cline (3 entries) and beat out the Monkees (2 entries) as far as I'm concerned. A worthy third prize goes to the beautiful and surprisingly bouncy "Hey, That's No Way to Say Goodbye." I love that in contrast to alot of the forlorn lovesick tracks in the Canuck's arsenal, this is basically a cheer-up song. It's so eloquent and convincing that at the end his crying lady friend is sweetly chiming in behind him.
Leonard Cohen - "Hey, That's No Way to Say Goodbye"
Dusty Springfield is one of my absolute favorite vocalists of the sixties, and almost certainly the finest British female pop star of that decade. Her voice is huge, crystal clear, and evocatively sensual. While I agree that if you could only give her one song it'd be stupid for it not to be "Son of a Preacher Man" (#45), I think she deserved a bit more credit. Quite a few other tracks could have been pulled from the immortal Dusty in Memphis album, but since it did get a tiny bit of love, we'll go with an earlier single. While the lyrics under a microscope almost amount to the troubling advice of "Hey girls, put out!", her delivery is all so joyous and filled with hope that you have to think a few thankful Sixties teen boys had to benefit from Dusty's powers of persuasion.
Dusty Springfield - "Wishin' and Hopin' "
Until the rise of 90's electronic artists Air and Daft Punk, Serge Gainsbourg was pretty much the only French import to have any impact at all in the American consciousness (discounting a couple drops in the post punk bucket). To this day, the "next Serge Gainsbourg" tag is a blessing and a curse for surly unshaven French singers the way that "next Dylan" is for any midwestern kid with a guitar and some political consciousness. So basically, the dominant figure in the music of a whole country in the midst of its last great decade of pop music gets one measly performance slot ("Bonnie et Clyde" #56) and one writing nod (France Gall's "Laisse Tomber les Filles", #181). Worse, his greatest, most enduringly relevant song ("Reqiuem for a jerk" in English) is nowhere to be found. The air of sleaze, the Gallic bongo rhythm, and the choked/ strangely sexual electric guitar line are all so casually cool. It's as if it were possible for a piece of music to dangle a cigarette from its lips. Probably the number one song I'd like to have seen on the list that wasn't.
Serge Gainsbourg - "Requiem Pour un Con"
Donovan is not seen as a real cool dude. Singing about "eee-lek-tric-al banana"s, doing long spoken word pieces about the nation of Atlantis, and being a huge ass hippy will do that for you. Pitchfork only gave in to the Scot's charm once, with the unusually dark "Season of the Witch" (#140) being the one you could safely hang your cred on. I love that one too, but I think the more undeniably memorable track comes here, in all it's psychedelic, comic book name checking, nerd glory. I love that big exotic guitar part at the beginning, the "you've got to be joking" drug repudiation of the first line, and the disconcertingly agressive "You're GO-ing to be mine" chorus. It's fucking far out, man.
Donovan - "Sunshine Superman"
Obscurity Wrangling:
One of the most striking aspect of the list was the dominance of pop singles from relatively obscure girl groups. I suspect if this undertaking had been attempted a few years ago this might not have been the case. Here, in a post One Kiss Leads to Another box set world, the floodgates are open. There's nothing inherently wrong with using knowledge gained from key re-issues to re-evaluate a decade's output. I mean you can't un-hear something and guide your choices by feigned ignorance. You have to think though, that when dealing with a trove of singles so obscure that they are unlikely to have been very truly influential at all, it all comes down to highly subjective pick and choose.
So, I give you my pick, "I'm Afraid They're All Talking About Me" by Dawn. Maybe the most supremely paranoid single I've ever heard, this track glides along like a building nervous breakdown. There's no respite, ever. Even at the chorus it's all just pleading for help. I can understand how something this harrowing might not have broken out on radio of the time, but as long as we're playing revisionist history, you don't get much more sophisticated girl-pop than this.
Dawn - "I'm Afraid They're All Talkin' About Me"
From intense paranoia to whiplash confidence, my second choice comes from lady rockers the What Four. Displaying a shockingly forward for the time wish "to make that boy my lover", the WF level the sexual playing field in a way that makes the Pipettes sound both timid and redundant in comparison. Long before women were given any measure of genuine respect in the rock field, here lies this rarity, kicking ass unashamed.
the What Four - "I'm Gonna Destroy That Boy"
In the zero-sum game of list dominance, probably the greatest loser stemming from the increase in girl-groups is garage rock. The less current thrill of discovery coming from the Nuggets anthology can't compare to the still recent crush of One Kiss it seems. My choice for a great gem from the diminished in stature form is this mid-tempo melody bomb from the lost to time Beau Brummels.
the Beau Brummels - "Laugh, Laugh"
A last trend of note was the inclusion of many not typically considered pieces of film and television music. With "Linus and Lucy" (#43), "The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly" (#32), and "Dr.Who" (#76) all getting props, I wish there was a bit of shelf space cleared for my favorite, Krystof Komeda's haunting theme to Roman Polanski's "Rosemary's Baby". I recently wrote about this one at length, so I'll save my breath (fingers), and quote this one's charm in it's own words. La La La La. (dread) La La La La. (dread).
Krystof Komeda f. Mia Farrow - "Rosemary's Baby" (main title)
...and scene.
Tags: Pitchfork, Leonard Cohen, Dusty Springfield, Serge Gainsbourg, Donovan, Dawn, the What Four, the Beau Brummels, Krystof Komeda, Mia Farrow
Posted by Jeff Klingman at August 22, 2006 02:29 PM
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Comments
What about Donovan's "Catch the Wind"? Did the Volvo commerical make it to "hip" to make the list??
Posted by: Kelli Douglas at August 22, 2006 02:50 PM
I like that one too, but I like this one more, and I was only going with one. It's still probably "hipper" than any song whose lyrics mention the Green Lantern
Posted by: Jeff at August 22, 2006 02:53 PM
Top notch work, Jeff.
I think that P-Fork prides itself on specifically not picking the most obvious choice, passing on bona fide classics in favor of lesser-known tracks/albums by the same artist. My point is this: no way "Strychnine" should have made it over "Psycho".
I'll spare this space the remainder of my specific opinions on the matter, but if you're interested, head on over to the bloggaroo.
Posted by: Randall Monty at August 22, 2006 09:21 PM
