1962
by Scott Miller

"You'll Be Mine" - Howlin' Wolf
This is one of the last of the Willie Dixon era singles collected on the "Rocking Chair" album, which probably needless to say I know only from much later reissues. "You'll Be Mine" sounds like some mid-50s rock and roll has sunk in; it doesn't sound too modern—not like Tamla or Motown material did—until the guitar solo, and suddenly it
sounds like it could have been recorded in '69, such I presume was the guitar influence of Wolf records on tastemakers like Keith Richards and Eric Clapton. The vocal is spectacular, particularly the precision with which he hits the notes on the descent through "mine" (he knows it too; it repeats a lot).

"Sheila" - Tommy Roe
An odd one, it's very much a Buddy Holly tribute stylistically; this really didn't sound modern. I have a fair amount of affection for it. The tom roll drum track really jumps out, and it has a sexy giddiness to its innocence: "Me and Sheila go for a ride/Oh, oh, I feel all funny inside/Then little Sheila whispers in my ear."

"Up On the Roof" - The Drifters
For clearly sounding like a hit, "Up On the Roof" communicates very directly at the person-to-person level. Written by the ever-capable and versatile Carole King and Gerry Goffin, it's some city-dweller talking about how when things get oppressive, he takes the stairs to the roof exit and hangs out until his cares "drift right into space," inviting the listener to join him. I think of it as the prototype for retreat themes in Brian Wilson's "In My Room" and Lennon's "There's a Place."

"The James Bond Theme" - John Barry
There's one style of music from my early childhood of which we really don't hear sufficient historical account considering it was everywhere: spy music. "Secret Agent Man," "Pink Panther," "Man From U.N.C.L.E.," "Get Smart," you couldn't go a day without hearing some exotic tri-tone laden theme, preferably with twangy guitar or Nelson Riddle horns. I'm nobody's source for historical accuracy, but John Barry's James Bond Theme seems eligible for some sizable claim of pioneering the genre, and still sounds ripping to this day.

"God Bless the Child" - Sonny Rollins
One of my jazz mentors Jacques Darakdjian is primarily responsible for my appreciation of Sonny Rollins. The title cut from Rollins's landmark album The Bridge is an example of his more intense work, but this version of Billie Holiday's "God Bless the Child" has the just plain beautiful tenor sax, highlighting his and guitarist Jim Hall's ability to listen deeply and respond to each other.

"Man Of Constant Sorrow" - Bob Dylan
Dylan's first album was as far-sighted as it was mannered and at times overheated, anticipating higher profile covers of the likes of "House of the Rising Sun" and "In My Time Of Dyin'," as well as this also charming blues-harmonica variation on the ace in the hole from the Coen Brothers' O Brother, Where Art Thou.

"Chains" - The Cookies
If, like me, you weren't there, you can do a lot worse in attempting to understand pre-Beatles music than to hear it through the ears of the Beatles themselves. That the Beatles erected the critical edifice in which music that isn't self-composed verse/chorus lyric pop rock barely even computes is bizarre, given their willingness to cover blues, folk, and show tunes—and often recent releases. Within five years the idea of, say, the Doors releasing a version of last year's Who song had become absurd on the face of it. The Beatles rarely rescued bad originals; more typically the vocal arrangement was something they could equal, but the original still features arrangement details that were beyond their stylistic reach, such as the horns on the Cookies' "Chains."

"Watermelon Man" - Herbie Hancock
The blues/gospel piano riff and Latin-flavored horns combined to anticipate a whole lot of sounds to come, Santana, to name one. This was cut with Dexter Gordon and some other luminaries just before Hancock joined Miles Davis's quintet.

"Boom Boom" - John Lee Hooker
Very clean, precise, and hi-fi for a blues recording, it creates a greater impression of histrionics than anything actually performed. The holler after a couple of verses bespeaks a massive rave-up so emphatically that it takes some reflection to realize not much really went on to happen. If "Boom boom boom boom/I'm gonna shoot you right down" is too easy an attention-getting device, the bit about, "I loves that talk/That baby talk" is at least as unforgettable, the more so for not seeming to half try to be.

"Twist and Shout" - The Isley Brothers
In my direct experience, this was the song that wrote the book on driving a crowd into a screaming, head-shaking frenzy at a live show. I'm thinking most specifically of the shaking of Beatle mop tops as they screamed the final "ah," but I presume the Isley Brothers enjoyed enough of the same effect, with their earlier top twenty version.

"Fleurette Africaine" - Duke Ellington
This is a jewel from the late, apparently not overly formal Money Jungle super-session with Ellington, Charles Mingus (bass), and Max Roach (drums). It's an extremely graceful, reflective yet succinct start-to-end composition, with the occasional pang of modernist piano drama that reads momentarily as dissonance, but after a moment's absorption settles into a more familiar jazz vocabulary. Certainly the special guest star is Mingus's bass, accented by some sort of hammered trill that must have seemed like a crazy idea at the time, but keeps the mood fresh and exotic when it's not impossible to imagine it otherwise shading toward morose.

"The Loco-Motion" - Little Eva
Wikipedia seems to confirm this was written for Little Eva, then Carole King's baby sitter. It's a fantastic sounding record, and for being one of those songs that tell you what dance you should do and was probably never thought of by anyone as anything but the most disposible possible fad entertainment, it's been strangely durable, with Grand Funk and Kylie Minogue covers in later decades (in weird ways okay, but don't do what I did: watch these and the original on YouTube and weep for the decline of civilization).

"Love Me Do" - The Beatles
This could still almost be a very good left-field Northern Britain novelty act where one bloke plays a nice enough harmonica. There's something just out of mental reach in the unapologetic way they hang a blue note on "you know" amid the hillbilly harmonies that whispers devastation.

"Anna (Go To Him)" - Arthur Alexander
A little more personal and effortless than the Lennon performance. Alexander has a bit of Elvis star quality: "you give back your ring to may."

"Night Train" - James Brown and the Famous Flames
I suppose it's a little odd to pick a James Brown track that I believe contains practically nothing from the Godfather of Soul but shouting out the names of some big cities, but Mr. Brown's legendary approach to quality control yields an uncommonly sharp and listenable rendition of the 1952 blues standard.

"Telstar" - The Tornadoes
With the sound effects at the beginning and the clavioline, Joe Meek's masterpiece in weird ways anticipates a lot of art rock. When you get over the tone poem evocations of Sputnik, it's a lovely piece of music, and is that autoharp on the B part?

"You've Really Got a Hold On Me" - Smokey Robinson and the Miracles
Smokey Robinson's genius is in top gear on this signature Tamla hit. The dark, bluesy swing, the little breaks with "tied up," the surprise sevenths, all seem to come from an artist who can attempt and pull off anything as if he clearly hears the sound of tomorrow in his head.

"Tonight" - Jim Bryant and Marni Nixon, "West Side Story" Original Soundtrack
I include this from the movie as a way of getting around cheating with multiple selections from the 1957 Broadway production of Leonard Bernstein and Stephen Sondheim's brilliant West Side Story. Bernstein's bold intervals and modulations are later remnants of an era of more widespread seriousness and training in music—remnants without which I would feel less keen a pang of regret at its passing. When not delivering on requirements for quips and action, Sondheim's lyrics find other little understated ways to shine. I've always liked that before Maria, "The world was just an address/A place for me to live in/No better than all right."

"Mr. Syms" - John Coltrane
John Coltrane's soprano sax has to be the single most identifiable musical instrument outside of human voices. I want to say it's often a little on top of the note (sharp), but, if so, in a way that's always better than right on the note, never worse (as can certainly be the case, I won't name names). You seem to know it's him with a very few notes, and not only who it is, but what he's feeling, and that he could impress the hell out of you with technique at any time if the need arises. This incredibly fetching, loopy, slightly middle-eastern influenced blues is one of my favorite jazz pieces.

"Green Onions" - Booker T. and the M.G.s
I note that I've placed more stock than for other years in whether a recording from 1962 sounded modern or not, and so it's not surprising that "Green Onions" receives a place of great honor, being possibly the song has had the longest continuous record for sounding utra-cool in any context on earth. Steve Cropper deserves some credit here for judicious guitar off-count chord choices.

"Where Have All the Flowers Gone" - The Kingston Trio
By contrast, it's a palpable strain to get my ears not to hear "Where Have All the Flowers Gone" in some state of mental pre-digestion as parody of bleeding-heart folkies. However, the gates of irony do not prevail; I am in fact a bleeding-heart, I like folk music quite a bit, and the music and words are beautiful, touching, and clever in a way for which I will ultimately cast my lot with the laughed-at if it comes to it. When there's no longer an overarching sadness that too many soldiers are "gone to graveyards," maybe I'll skip back with a light heart and a smirk to reassess.

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photos of scott & anton by N.D. Koster.