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October 11, 2007

Numerology: Thirty-One's Flavors

Now that we’ve reached 31, I am not surprised to hear a chorus of crickets. Thirty-one does not come across as a hot and happening number. If it were a color it would be ecru, but let’s give ecru its due. There’s that sweet baseball legacy: Hall of Famers Ferguson Jenkins and Dave Winfield both wore no. 31, and it’s the number of wins that Denny McLain—a Tigers pitching phenom with the heart of a smalltime crook—won in 1968. Think of it: 31 games. No one has come close since, and with the current “get to the sixth inning” mentality, 31 wins is unlikely to be topped. I wonder what Denny McLain’s entrance music was at Tiger Stadium in 1968.

In my mind, the third of the 44 known Mersenne prime numbers (Mersennes are numbers that are one less than a power of two) suffers from its featured role in that dreary yet useful little rhyme we learned in school: “Thirty days hath September/April, June and November/All the rest have thirty-one/Excepting February alone” (Some rhyme, eh? A white person definitely wrote that.) I guess my associations with the poem are uniformly negative because I tend to recite it when I have to write a check or commit to something.

But let’s not forget, 31 was pretty damned kind to the Baskin-Robbins people (we’ll get to that), and Nick Hornby’s 31 Songs (it was called Songbook in the States) is one great piece of music writing. Even the Beatles got around to making a specific reference to 31, Paul McCartney did anyway, in a song John Lennon famously detested, “Maxwell’s Silver Hammer.” Maybe the sticking point was hearing Paul sing the line “PC Thirty-One, says we’ve caught a dirty one/Maxwell stands alone” 31 times before he was satisfied. (PC in this case means police constable, but PC 31 sounds more like an earlier version of Bowie’s TVC15. It was said at the time that TVC15 had something to do with masturbation, and oddly enough, thirty-one is Turkish slang for masturbation, apparently. If anyone knows of a song that incorporates 31 in this particular sense I hope you will alert me, and pronto.)

Let’s summon our inner Buddhist and not dwell on what we lack. Let’s be thankful for our small repast. I feel like a nomadic herdsman rooting through his rucksack and spilling out an austere collection of edible pinecones for all of us to enjoy. First pinecone: “Thirty One Flavors” by Jon Spencer Blues Explosion. Dig in! It’s a decent enough extended vamp that you can shake your hips to. But that’s about it. The band enjoyed a lot of critical praise in the ‘90s but I never quite got what all the fuss was about. Of course, when I surveyed the arid pickings for 31, I was happy to find a song from a band that many people whom I respect dig, and who knew, maybe this would be the moment where I’d discover JSBE and realize what I’d been missing all these years. Sadly, I remain unconverted.

the Moving Sidewalks - "Pluto, September 31st"

The next morsel—the shimmering, day-glo pinecone—is better known as “Pluto, September 31st” by the Moving Sidewalks, a ‘60s psychedelic outfit that spawned Billy Gibbons of Z.Z. Top. The group had a numerically titled hit in 1967 with “99th Floor,” which first came to my ears via the essential Nuggets collection. “PS31,” from the Sidewalks’ sole album, Flash (1968) is the album’s epic, replete with an echo-drenched, melody-free interlude in the middle and lyrics that rival pre-Shark Sandwich-era Spinal Tap: “A mystic fog is in my eyes/the carpet’s been pulled from under my butt/and as the dark begins to clear/my brain’s reduced to one watt/But slowly it’s all happenin’/my mind might melt today/But don’t relate too late/Just remind your little body you might be late…” Can’t you just hear David St. Hubbins belting this shit out? But say what you will, there’s no denying the song’s kicking groove.

Karma to Burn - "Thirty-One"

That scary-looking pinecone giving off don’t fuck with me vibes? Say hello to “Thirty-One” by Karma to Burn, from a coiled, menacing collection of numerically named instrumentals from 1999, called Wild Wonderful Purgatory. This West Virginia band didn’t muck about with names of songs, or even with words. They just played hard and fierce. Like the other offerings on the record (e.g., “Twenty,” “Twenty Two,” “Three”) “Thirty One” is a multipart head banger that would please both Dave Mustaine and Butthead. All hail not giving a shit about song names. That’s just ballsy. You want a title? Fuck that. Next song! What are we up to? 32? Thirty-two!!!! Keeerraaang!

We’re down to our last pinecone (I promise never to use this or any metaphor again.) The Shirelles were a proto girl group; they were brassy and sassy and tuneful, capable of musical coquettishness as well as what music critic Charlie Gillett termed, “vulnerable and suppliant availability.” They were also favorites of the Beatles. Formed in 1958 as the Poquelles, the Shirelles have already locked up the column’s coveted 21 spot with their frustrated ode to turning 21 and being liberated from all strictures. “31 Flavors” is not quite up to the level of “Twenty-One.” It’s definitely no “Baby it’s You,” and it doesn’t approach the depth of signature singles “Dedicated to the One I Love,” “Will You Love Me Tomorrow,” and “Soldier Boy,” but as infectious trifles go, it’s hard to beat. Even the geniuses behind It’s a Mad, Mad, Mad, Mad World knew enough to put it on the soundtrack to their tightly plotted epic. I was putty in this song’s hands from its opening purred syllables, “Ya ya ya ya”

Like so many songs of this ilk, the sexual subtext is buried in a lot of ice cream imagery, but I think William Burroughs had something to say about kissing in 31 flavors in Cities of the Red Night, and as I recall, and there was no doubt about what he meant. Then again, Burroughs was never this good a singer, I mean, during his girl-group phase. And gooey as it may be, the song is undeniably sensual. Ice Cream Joe has a few tricks up his sleeve, you can be sure. Obviously the term “31 flavors” is not original; Baskin-Robbins came up with that in 1953 to distinguish it from Ho-Jo’s, which was proud of having 28 flavors. But somehow it’s not irksome in the way it would be if the song had been based on a slogan for say, the Jolly Green Giant or Campbell’s Soup. In this world of 19-game-winning Cy Young Award winners, it’s hard to deny the innocent charms of a song that goes:

I call him Ice Cream Joe

He is the most delicious boy I know

Every time his tasty lips are kissing mine

He gives me 31 flavors

(And we like tutti-frutti best)

And finally, I do realize there’s a Snoop Dogg song by the same name, but this one is better.

the Shirelles - "31 Flavors"

Numerology is our pal Dave's ill advised quest to find the definitive song for every number from one to a hundred. It's starting to get a bit tricky.

Previously: No. 1, 2-4, 5-7, 7 (counterpoint), 8, 9, 10/11, 12/13. 13 (counterpoint), 14/15, 16, 17, 18, 19, 20, 21, 22, 23, 24, 25, 26/27, 28 , 29 , 30, 30 (counterpoint)

Posted by David Klein at October 11, 2007 09:25 PM

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Posted by: queerusjohnson at October 12, 2007 01:33 PM

Posted by: Sebastian at October 12, 2007 02:40 PM

Posted by: Randall Monty at October 12, 2007 05:10 PM

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