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October 09, 2008
Numerology: Klein's 57
The ’57 Chevy, with its distinctive grille and tailfins, is as essential to late ‘50s teen culture iconography as blue jeans and Brylcream. While only a few songs directly mention this classic auto in their titles (most notably “’59 Cadillac, ’57 Chevy” by outlaw country singer David Allen Coe) the car’s place in rock history is secure. Bruce Springsteen just donated one to the Manhattan annex of the Rock ‘N’ Roll Hall of Fame, and it was the vehicle that carried a young Robert Zimmerman on his journey east from Chicago to frigid Greenwich Village in January 1961. (Speaking of vehicles, in Passenger 57—a vehicle for the tax-evading Wesley Snipes—his character’s tagline is, “Always bet on black.”)
H. J. Heinz had a much better slogan. When he adopted “57 Varieties” for his rapidly expanding foodstuffs company in 1892, Heinz gave 57 the kind of notoriety you just can’t buy. His choice of number had nothing to do with accuracy (the company’s offerings already exceeded that number) and everything to do with catchiness. There’s no denying it has a nice ring to it. Besides which, there’s an uncanny aptness to 57, with its suggestion of overabundance that skirts outright hyperbole. Richard Thompson seems to invoke the number in its Heinz-ian sense in “Valerie,” a song about a frivolous temptress who spends her would-be suitor’s money on “fifty-seven things she’s never going to use.” And it doesn’t seem far-fetched to suggest that Bruce Springsteen, at least unconsciously, had ketchup on his mind when he wrote “57 Channels and Nothing On,” an anti-TV diatribe that the Springsteen faithful didn’t exactly snuggle up to. Chalk it up to an extremely infertile moment in his career—the early 90s, when Springsteen left Jersey for L.A, ditched the E. Street Band, and found a new measure of personal happiness. But wait, you say, what about Bruce’s other 57 song: “Incident on 57th Street” from The Wild, the Innocent and the E Street Shuffle? A fine song, to be sure, but one that feels like a rewrite of the superior “Sandy (4th of July, Asbury Park),” from the very same album, right down to the spoken-word interlude that sets up the final chorus. And since “Sandy/4th” has already taken the no. 4 crown, a line must be drawn somewhere in the pale Jersey sand.
Heinz 57 Steak Sauce Ad, 1986
“Class of ‘57” by the Statler Brothers (none whom were named Statler) is a dreary country version of Jim Carroll’s “People Who Died,” where instead of Carroll’s New York-centric laundry list of fatality-- Judy jumped in front of a subway train/ Eddie got slit in the jugular vein—the Statlers give us: Betty runs a trailer park, Jan sells Tupperware/Randy's on an insane ward, Mary's on welfare. Though not without its charms, the song lacks the wry humor of “Flowers on the Wall,” the 1965 ditty used to such fine effect in Pulp Fiction. (It’s playing in the car when Butch unexpectedly encounters Marcellus Wallace, right before the hellish fight that lands them both in the clutches of Zed.) The Statlers, a Virginia quartet that began as the Kingsmen, were forced to rechristen themselves when the Kingsmen (of Portland, Oregon) became instant rock legends with their 1962 recording of “Louie Louie.” Fortunately, the Statler Tissue Company was around to provide inspiration.
Biffy Clyro is a Scottish band whose name brings to mind Spanky and Alfalfa, but whose “57,” combining soft-loud grunge dynamics with big emo hooks and proggy twists and turns, suggests something far less innocent. Velocity Girl, who took their name from a song by Primal Scream, give us “57 Waltz,” a clamorous sea shanty from the 1993 debut Copacetic that bears all the hallmarks of the Indie School Class of ’92: the R.E.M. jangle, the buried vocals, and the wall of guitar noise, all of which do a good job of obscuring the song’s lyrical shortcomings. It certainly can’t compete with Ralph Stanley’s “The Flood of ’57,” the tale of a deluge that befell the Illinois town of Belleville after excessive rainfall turned Richland Creek into a deadly torrent. It’s almost cruel to juxtapose a bluegrass legend like Ralph Stanley with toxic-sounding songs like “57” by Killdozer from the pivotal Intellectuals Are the Shoeshine Boys of the Ruling Elite and “SM57” by Pussy Galore, a caustic ode to a beloved Shure microphone off 1989’s Dial M for Motherfucker. But 57 makes for a strange cast of characters, so why not let them mingle?
Killdozer - "57"
Pussy Galore - "SM57"
Besides, these are the also-rans. The ultimate 57 song in existence is an incendiary blast from a seriously unheralded band out of the Minneapolis hardcore/punk scene of the early ‘80s: Man Sized Action. While Hüsker Dü and the Replacements still garner deep and abiding love from the music-conscious among us, whenever I mention Man Sized Action, all I seem to get are remarks like, “Gee, I didn’t know you swung that way.” Folks, all kidding aside, for a brief shining moment, Man Sized Action was a real force in that seminal Minneapolis scene. In ’84, no less than the über-producer Steve Albini wrote a glowing tribute/history of the band, describing how MSA formed in the vacuum that resulted in the absence of the perpetually touring Hüsker Dü, the fizzling of various ‘70s holdover bands, and the Replacements becoming “parodies of themselves.” Albini went on to say that MSA were not only better and more original than their local competition, he even gave them the edge over the Clash and the noted 57 aficionado Bruce Springsteen.
Man Sized Action—Pat Woods, Tony Pucci, Kelly Linehan, Brian Paulson, and Tippy—recorded two records for Bob Mould’s Reflex Records. The first, Claustrophobia (1983), was hampered by Mould’s tinny production, but the second one—an eight-song EP, Five Story Garage (1984) still sounds as fierce and unforgiving as the Minnesota winter, undiminished by time, new production techniques, or radical improvements in the science of rock & roll. “Fifty-Seven,” one of the highlights of the collection, combines the loud-and-fast hardcore aesthetic with the corrosive guitar frequencies of Hüsker Dü, led by the urgent keening of vocalist Pat Woods. According to Albini, the song’s name derives from “its position on the MSA Master Song List of History and Achievement.” Now that’s a list I would love to see.
Postscript: Brian Paulson, guitarist for Man Sized Action and co-producer of Five Story Garage, has ultimately reached a wide audience through his work as a recording engineer on records by Wilco, Superchunk, and Beck (O-De-Lay), among others.
Numerology is our pal Dave's ill advised quest to find the definitive song for every number from one to a hundred. The higher the digit, the lonelier the climb.
Previously: No. 1, 2-4, , 4 (redux), 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), 31, 32, 33, 34, 35, 36, 37, 38, 39, 40, 41, 42, 43, 44, 45, 46 , 47, 48, 49, 50, 51, 52, 53, 54, 55, 56, Footnotes
Posted by David Klein at October 9, 2008 09:40 AM
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Comments
Why does 57 rock so hard, as a number?
Posted by: Jeff K. at October 15, 2008 12:17 AM
Great syllables are always part of the equation, and with seven, you always get that extra syllable that the others from 1-9 don't give you. 57, in essence, goes to 11.
Posted by: david at October 15, 2008 12:17 PM
