Fusion 45

As much as I enjoyed listening and learning and sharing the genius of Hal Blaine through his Top 10 records of the 1960’s, none of them had the significance in my life as these few songs from 1970. These six songs, to my ears, personify the best of pop music of the time.

Maybe I’m simply getting old and starting to sound like my Dad (who claimed that “no one before or since could sing like Peggy Lee”). Maybe it’s the immediate comfort I feel listening to them, being transported back to my youth when little but baseball and music much mattered. (Truth is, music and baseball, shared through and with my family, are still my great passions today). Maybe it doesn’t matter why I think these are six of the best ever.

Whatever the root, whatever the cause, here are the Top 10 songs Hal Blaine played on in 1970. Listen and love.

Simon and Garfunkel - Cecilia (#4)

I grew up in Upstate New York where it got really cold really early and stayed cold for a long time. Being addicted to sports of all kinds, I found things to do with my time: football until the snow was too deep to run in, street hockey on the side streets were they employed the all-natural “drive on it ’til it thaws” method of plowing. But, like Rogers Hornsby said, most of the winter was spent looking out the window waiting for spring. I distinctly remember throwing open the windows on an April afternoon and playing this full blast on my Sears stereo (that I’d bought with money from my paper route). I’m pretty good at transcribing drum tracks but, to this day, I still can’t figure out how they made this happen. There are hand claps and maracas at bar 3 and what sounds like quarter notes on the bass drum. Otherwise, I’m baffled. But, it’s spring and I’m opening the windows…

Simon and Garfunkel - Bridge Over Troubled Water (#1)

Maybe I should’ve written about this one first, being that it appears on the record before Cecilia.

My wife hates the “Desert Island Disc” game. She thinks it’s stupid: “I don’t live on a desert island and, even if I did, I certainly wouldn’t be worried about what records I have. I’d be worried about how to get the hell off…”. It’s really surprising we’ve been happily married for so long.

I’m not a big fan of the game myself, truth be told. Not because I don’t have a list of records I’d take; it’s because there’s not a boat big enough to take all the records I would need.

But, I know this album and, specifically, this song would be the first on the list, hands down, no question. My older brother, a pianist, for whom I owe much of my earliest musical influence, used to play this song. The lyrics — “when you’re weary/feeling small/when tears are in your eyes/I’ll dry them all” — are so universally poignant. Art Garfunkel’s voice, like that of an angel, never before and never since has been as captivating. It embodies everything about the decade that had just passed: the end of the innocence of my brother and his friends, the need rather than the desire to lay down arms, the weariness that came with experiencing a lost — or seemingly lost — cause.

Musically, it starts so quietly and becomes so big. First, piano. Then, vibes. Then, crashing cymbals and explosions in the background. Then, the harmonies and the strings and the beating of the toms in the background, explosions all along the way. To this day, it still gives me chills every time I hear it.

The Carpenters - Close To You (#1)

I think wisdom is the ability to admit your childhood foibles — including the ones you commit as an adult — without embarrassment. As a somewhat geeky though, I’m told, cute kid, I was insanely jealous of some of the guys in school who I thought were better looking Better stated: I was jealous of the ones who had the ability to talk with girls as if they were actually human not beings from another planet. This song made me jealous…all those birds suddenly appearing whenever those guys walked into the room.

I remember seeing Karen Carpenter sitting behind a drum set, lip syncing this tune on the TV. I couldn’t understand why Hal Blaine was credited as the drummer. Was he dressed as Karen Carpenter? What I love about the drumming on this song is the sound of the toms…he hits them about 3 times through the whole song…and they sound perfect!

The Carpenters - We’ve Only Just Begun (#1)

I posted on this song recently as part of my 20 Guilty Pleasures list, saying it reminds me of my brother-in-law and a can of Coors beer. But, all bets are off when you listen to it with a “karaoke ear”. What I mean is this: close your ears to everything on the record except the drums. Great tom sound at :31; he gets way funky at :57 and I spent years trying to work out the exact timing of the breaks at 1:24 and 2:18. (He comes in on the “and” of “three” on the first break but the “and” of “two” in the second break. Bastard!).

Neil Diamond - Cracklin’ Rosie (#1)

I just realized who Crackin’ Rosie is: she’s a store-bought woman! Am I an idiot?

Being that my first knowledge of Neil Diamond came with (ugh) Jonathon Livingston Seagull, it’s still hard to believe he was a sex symbol at one time. But, it’s true. Women in my sister’s group of grown-ups (now in their mid-50’s) got a real wiggle in their knickers when Neil sang “Oo, I love my Rosie child”. That and the guy who starred with Marcus Welby on that doctor show.

The 5th Dimension - One Less Bell To Answer (#2)

No one before or since could sing like Peggy Lee Marilyn McCoo.

Yes, that’s a picture of me, circa 1970, ready to score the next big hit. Hal, eat your heart out.

Namaste,
The Music Junkie at Fusion 45

Ah, 1969. Deep in the heart of being seven years old, oblivious to the struggles of love, money or power, scratching out 6’s and 7’s on that green paper with the really WIDE lines, relating to Bill Cosby’s take on childhood (”And now Richard will tie his tie”).

My Mom and Dad woke me up in the middle of the night to watch Neil Armstrong walk on the moon while my beloved New York Mets sent the earth into a new orbit by winning the World Series (after being 9 games out of first place in the middle of August).

Noted celebrities died and others took their place: Jennifer Anniston took over for Judy Garland, Linus Torvolds stepped in for Mies van der Rohe and Ike stepped aside so Matthew Perry could take the spotlight.

While riots broke out in Watts and love broke out at Woodstock, the Wrecking Crew did their best to make the world safe for pop music.

Henry Mancini - A Time For Us (Love Theme from “Romeo and Juliet”)

This was one of my favorite songs at the time, probably because my piano-playing older brother (who was off to college that year) would play it for me when he came home to visit. I never got further than the right hand melody, myself.

Tommy Roe - Dizzy

Tommy Roe - Jam Up, Jelly Tight

“Dizzy” is still in hot rotation around our house, part of the Autunes collection. What a great big booming lovely reverbial drum sound. (I used the expression “Jam Up, Jelly Tight” one night at the dinner table and got the classic “curious dog” look from my five-year old.)

Gary Puckett - Young Girl

Gary Puckett - This Girl Is A Woman Now

“Cousin Dupree” before is could be stated that obviously.

[Errata: "Young Girl" is actually '68. "This Girl Is A Woman Now" is '69. Funny, the same comment still applies.]

Neil Diamond - Holly Holy

Say what you will about the sad fate of Neil Diamond: this was one sexy, soulful record. I remember buying the single and playing it over and over. It all came back to me when I listened again last night.

Glen Campbell - Galveston

An original Wrecking Crew guitarist in front of the Wrecking Crew doing a Jimmy Webb tune. Brilliance guaranteed.

The Fifth Dimension - Wedding Bell Blues

The Fifth Dimension - Aquarius

Aforementioned big brother is named Bill. I was pretty sure this song was talking about him.

And, while once taking a trip to see said brother at college, I soothed our restless German Shepherd, Bootsy, in the back of the station wagon by singing “Aquarius” over and over for about 4 hours. Didn’t soothe my Dad, though.

Would it be a stretch to suggest that The Fifth Dimension was, in a way, the manifestation of all the efforts of the Civil Rights movement: black singers, a white songwriter, a mixed bag of nationalities in the band singing about a new age dawning? Maybe, but we’ll keep hoping.

Namaste,
Music Junkie at Fusion 45

Richard Harris – MacArthur Park (#5)

According to Paul Zollo’s interview with Jimmy Webb (in the book “Songwriters on Songwriting”), MacArthur Park was invented “in Bones Howe’s head”. Howe asked Webb to write something “classical” for The Association. When they passed on Mac Park, it went “into the trunk,” Webb says, until Richard Harris invited him to London to make a record. Harris basically picked MacArthur Park from a stack of songs and the rest is history. (Interestingly, my post several months ago entitled “Richard Harris Is A God To Me” generates more Viagra spam than any other post I’ve done.)

For Blaine, MacArthur Park is the perfect palette, blending the orchestral chops of his soundtrack work with the rock and roll groove of The Beach Boys.

I heard my favorite version of this song just once. I was standing backstage at Broadway Junior High School in Elmira, NY. I was probably 12 or 13, listening to the stage band from the high school play an instrumental version. I watched the drummer, Steve Nixon, playing the fast part at the end and thought: “That’s really cool”. Steve later became a good friend in high school, helped me through some hard times and then, a few years after graduation, because a true acid casualty by stepping in front of an eighty mile-per-hour train.

The Association – Everything That Touches You (#10)

Like many kids growing up in the 1970’s, a good share of my indoor wintertime was spent with the neighborhood kids, playing air-guitar tennis rackets and beating the bed pillows with drumsticks. My best friend at the time, Deke Forrest, insisted on playing the tennis racket left-handed (because that the way Paul did it) and tapping his foot (because that’s the way George did it). I was disappointed he didn’t work John and Ringo in somehow.

There’s a certain understated funkiness to the rhythm track on this song. Blaine slips into the pocket, reprises his Mamas and Papas vibe and takes it home. (I saw The Association perform this at the Chemung County Fair around 1970-ish; my very first rock concert.)

Gary Puckett – Young Girl (#2)

Even though I was 6 years old when this came out, I understood clearly what Gary was singing about. This song (plus “Lady Willpower” and “You’ve Made Me So Very Happy”) was one of the first singles I owned. I spent hours listening to these songs, dissecting the horn, string and vocal parts. Obviously I’m regressing back to six years old. I’m wondering on how many songs Blaine straight fours on the snare drum (and somehow never sounded the same twice).

The Grass Roots – Midnight Confessions (#5)

This one features more straight fours but not before he did the great opening couple of bars. Nice snare fill at the end of the first chorus, too. If you think it’s simple, just transcribe it and play it and see how close you come to the groove, eh?

Kenny Rogers and The First Edition – Just Dropped In (To What Condition My Condition Is In) (#5)

So 60’s, so psychedelic! Kenny Rogers was so c-o-o-l back then with his long vest and fringed hair (or maybe it was the other way around). And he had yet to go country and make several kabillion dollars. Close your ears to the music (which is seriously flower-powered out, complete with vibraphone) and dig Blaine’s track. It’s totally funky.

Simon and Garfunkel – Mrs. Robinson (#1)

In my mind, the movie and the soundtrack to “The Graduate” are the 1960’s. I don’t know what Blaine played on this record but it never ceases to amaze me how the song just keeps pushing forward. I think the most that came out of the drum set were hi-hats on 2 and 4 during the chorus. Seemed to be enough…

The Fifth Dimension – Stoned Soul Picnic (#3)

It’s going toward 5PM on a Sunday afternoon. It’s a breezy 81 degrees. The backyard is looking like an oasis after a full day of gardening. The boys are hitting whiffle balls off the back deck, my wife is napping, my daughter is playing school. It’s a stoned soul picnic. A great groove from HB…

The Vogues – Turn Around Look At Me (#7)

Sometime in the late 60’s, my high school aged brother bought a jukebox. Don’t know why but I thought it was totally cool. It had “Windy” by The Association, “Silence Is Golden” by The Tremeloes, “I Love You” by People (which I just recently found on a 45) and this one. It sat in our garage for a few years, I played it a lot and then Dad got sick of moving the lawn mower around it and sold it for $20. Trip-o-let, trip-o-let, bah bah bah…

The Vogues – My Special Angel (#7)

While hippies were changing the world, Hal Blaine and The Wrecking Crew were helping to maintain the pop status quo…straight from the 50’s songbook…but a Top 10 hit nonetheless.

In 1966, the world’s greatest pop band, The Beach Boys, forever changed rock and roll. Instead of giving the world another gilded album of musical chocolates, each song individually wrapped in ocean colored tin foil, they buried their music in a mix of motor oil and sand. They produced an album, a “concept” album called Pet Sounds, that said to the world: “behind the orange grove lushness of our harmonies, there is emotional dissonance, a “meaning” behind it all that needs to be unearthed”.

In 1967, The Beatles finished what The Beach Boys started by recording “Sgt. Pepper”. Beneath the jouncy melodies and rainbow candies, “Sgt. Pepper” is a disturbing trip through a dark, psychedelic jungle. The transformation was complete. The fissure between Us and Them yowled in the night and began to swallow up our world culture.

In the US column, free love, no war, a new zeitgeist. In the THEM column, patriotism, solidity and a future in plastics. In 1967, Woody Guthrie and John Coltrane died (conferring them from living Gods to immortal deities), Andy Warhol changed soup cans into art and created his 15-minutes of fame and the Grammy committee was incubating its uncoolness by calling “Strangers In The Night” the Best (Fucking) Record of The Year.

From the insipid samba of “Something Stupid” to the sarcastic shuffle of “Words of Love,” he’s neither Us nor Them. He stands solidly between two poles, his hands uniting the fearful Zen of “Let’s Live For Today” with the careless sunshine of “Windy” and “Up Up And Away”. What could be more unifying in the year of Us and Them than to hear white (Johnny Rivers) sing black (The Miracles)? What could be more significant of pop music oneness than for a Motown group (The Supremes) to record a decidedly West Coast song (The Happening)? We all know that music unifies, don’t we…until we decide to segregate it.

The Mama’s And The Papa’s Words Of Love

The Fifth Dimension Up, Up And Away

The Supremes The Happening

The Association Windy

The Association Never My Love

The Monkees A Little But Me, A Little Bit You

The Mamas And The Papas Dedicated To The One I Love

Johnny Rivers Tracks of My Tears

Johnny Rivers Baby I Need Your Loving

Bobby Vee Come Back Baby When You Grow Up

Frank And Nancy Sinatra Something Stupid

Grass Roots Let’s Live Today

I’ve cashed in my 401K’s, divorced my wife, abandoned the little league and left my kids for a hermitage in the Idaho panhandle. I’ve furnished it with a cot from an abandoned Benedictine monastery, a table from Goodwill, a single light bulb stolen from a gas station restroom and an wireless card from T-Mobile.

It’s still very cold here in Northern Idaho. I’m burning antique copies of Creem magazine for heat, eating peanut butter sandwiches and granola bars for sustenance. When spring comes, I’ll forage for edible plants and acorns left behind by the squirrels. I’m dressed like Cass Elliot, wearing a haircut like Devendra Banhart.

I’m on a mission. Before I die, I’ll catalog the entire 35,000 songs recorded by Hal Blaine. I drink gallons of green tea, sprinkle No-Doz on my sandwiches and write 17 hours a day. I’ll have no conjugal visits. I’ll be 62 years old when I finish this project; it’ll all be worth it.

In California, ’round about 1966, everyone was happy. The sun shone bright as a model’s smile. The landscape was dotted cozy new homes, with barbecues and lawn gnomes. The air smelled of jasmine and orange blossoms and new car interiors.

In California, ’round about 1966, Hal Blaine was happy, too. In his late 30’s, he was the superstar’s superstar. Brian Wilson’s first call drummer; John Phillips first call drummer; the back beat for everyone from Sinatra to Simon and Garfunkel. Hits rolled from his kit like paradiddles from a drum corps practice room.

He pounded out quarter notes for The Mama’s and The Papa’s as they Saw Her Again Last Night, the progeny of a Nelson Riddle soundstage and Phil Spector recording studio. He created the lilting march of Monday, Monday and built the four-on-the-floor swing of the ultimate West Coast sunshine song, California Dreamin’. The DOT built the highways, GM built the cars but The Wrecking Crew built the soundtrack.

Out with the brushes, all swish and sizzle, a world-renowned hit immediately. Funny. Sinatra called Strangers In The Night “the worst song I ever fucking heard”.

When it came to swish and sizzle, though, no one could come close to Nancy. The original sex pistol in plastic Boots, a fashion idol straight from Sugar Town. Her boots were made for walking; Hal’s sticks were made for playing.

But what those beautiful Beach Boys? Not the ones who were riding their sports cars and dating the Nancy Sinatra look-a-likes. The real Beach Boys, the ones who were creating California!

Well, some of the were dating the beach bunnies, which is why Blaine was called to the fore by Brian Wilson. We’ll presume he didn’t play the ashtrays on Barbara Ann but, otherwise, he owned Sloop John B and, arguably, the most beautiful pop song of all time, Good Vibrations.

There’s more, of course, but why tarry with words? The music defines itself.

The Association - Along Comes Mary
Bobby Darin - If I Were A Carpenter
Bob Lind - Elusive Butterfly
Simon and Garfunkel - Homeward Bound
Johnny Rivers - Poor Side of Town
Simon and Garfunkel - I Am A Rock
Beach Boys - Wouldn’t It Be Nice

Inspired by IB at Art Decade

When I die, I want my tombstone inscribed with the following epitaph:

“Herein lays a man a-rest, nothing left to do/For what killed him was his lovely wife, she bit off more than he could chew.”

It seems I’m infected with the same curse of blind ambition as my lovely red-headed wonder-wife: this Hal Blaine series has taken on a life of it’s own. This is the 3rd post on him and we’re just now covering the year nineteen sixty-five.

I’ll venture to say that never in the history of the twentieth century did music and politics so clearly mirror each other than in ‘65.

This kit of a dozen songs featuring Hal Blaine shows us two different versions of America as seen through pop music. On one hand, we have traditional conservatism brought forth by the likes of Jay and The Americans and Mel Carter, over-the-top pop groups with Spector-like arrangements who sounded old even in their own time.

At the other end of the spectrum, we heard marching drums and protest songs, embodied by The Byrds and Barry McGuire, portents of what is now considered ‘normal liberalism’. In between, The Beach Boys (though becoming more experimental) were California past and present while Johnny Rivers started showing us a little about what SoCal rock was going to look like in the 1970′

Jay and The Americans - Cara Mia (#4)

No one was more over the top than Jay And The Americans and nothing I remember hearing from them was farther over-the-top than ‘Cara Mia’. (This was actually sung by David Blatt who, by this time, had replaced the original ‘Jay’ (John Traynor) as the lead singer). Like Connie Francis’ version of ‘Mama’, we hear again how much pop was co-opted from other sources (like Italian opera, strangely enough). If you listen closely to what Blaine’s doing on this song, you recognize a march-like drum line that’s very similar to what he plays in the protest songs.

The Vogues - You’re The One (#4)

The Vogues were a crazy band. Not crazy in the Ozzy Osbourne sense but more in the Kinks-Meets-Gary-Puckett sense. They did one of the most bombastic pop songs of all time (”Turn Around, Look At Me”) and one of the swinging-est pop tunes of all time (”Five O’Clock World”). With “You’re The One,” we get one part Johnny Horton (the guitar opening), one part Zombies (the lead vocal) and one part Jay And The Americans (the harmonies). Behind it all, Blaine gives us a delicate semi-surf beat, complete with jangly ride cymbal and sixteenths on the fours. Crazy, man!

Mel Carter - Hold Me, Thrill Me, Kiss me (#8)

Could it be that Mel Carter is actually David Blatt’s long lost twin? Sounds that way. To truly appreciate this song, I have to block out Carter and the Elvis-Meets-Mitch-Miller backing vocals and hear the brilliance of the orchestra arrangement and reverb-laden snare drum. Reference Barry Manilow for an even greater use of this technique.

Gary Lewis And The Playboys - This Diamond Ring (#1); Count Me In (#2); Save Your Heart For Me (#2) and Everybody Loves A Clown (#4)

What I love about Gary Lewis (besides the fact that he was Jerry Lewis’ kid and, seemingly, unembarrassed by that fact) is the band’s ability to sound like everyone else who was popular at the time (and some who yet to be popular): Roger Miller, Herman’s Hermit’s, Leo Sayer. You name it, they copped it. He was one of the first pop stars of the TV generation, laying the path for The Monkees and The Partridge Family, two others who were supported by Hal Blaine. Great tympani part on ‘This Diamond Ring’ (gives it that Hawaii 5-0 surf vibe); I believe that’s Leon Russell (a sometime member of ‘The Wrecking Crew’) playing piano on ‘Count Me In’.

The Beach Boys - California Girls (#3) and Help Me, Rhonda (#1)

Even though he was still kicking out Top 40 surf anthems in 1965, it was clear the end of the innocence was coming for Brian Wilson. ‘Pet Sounds’ (which also featured Blaine) was just around the corner and things were getting more experimental. I’m still not sure what the fade-in/fade-out thing in ‘Rhonda’ was all about but I remember banging out the drum pattern to ‘California Girls’ on my bed more than a few times (with pillows as tom-toms). I don’t know what it is (the tempo, the key, the harmonies) but there’s a fatigued sense of melancholy about ‘California Girls,’ with the march tempo in the chorus that says pop music is taking a turn from which it’ll never return. The next year, with ‘Pet Sounds,’ bore that out.

The Byrds - Mr. Tambourine Man (#1) and Barry McGuire - Eve of Destruction (#1)

This version of MTM, from their pre-Flyte album, sounds much different from the one we’re used to hearing on the radio. We’re marching off to war, on the eve of destruction.

Between 1961 and 1964, Hal Blaine played drums on 36 Top 10 singles. In 1963 and 1964, alone, he recorded 30 of them. Here’s a selection of 16 that defined the West Coast pop sound that, in turn, shaped everything from ZZ Top to The Ramones.

The Beach Boys - Surfin’ Safari (#3 in 1963)

I was in my late 30’s before I realized that the first line is not “if everybody had an ulcer, across the USA”. This is one of the songs that defined the “four-on-the-floor” bass drum beat you hear in so many surf songs (emulating your heart pounding in your ears, I would guess).

The Beach Boys - Be True To Your School (#6 in 1963)

Blaine’s work on the television soundstage gave him a real symphonic feel, witnessed here by the triangle on the downbeat of every measure.

The Beach Boys - Surfer Girl (#7 in 1963)

I bought their ‘Endless Summer’ album sometime in the early seventies and played this one TO DEATH. I always liked the depth of the snare drum on this record, even though the beat itself is nothing special.

The Beach Boys - Little Deuce Coupe (#7 in 1963)

I’m contemplating a post called: “Songs With Great Opening Snare Drum Riffs”. This, and ‘Pretty Lady’ by Lighthouse, would be the first two.

The Crystals - Da Doo Ron Ron (#3 in 1964)

The original version of a song recorded 736,756 times (in America alone). Best part: the sax and tom-tom duet every measure starting at :20.

The Ronettes - Be My Baby (1963)

I threw it in because Blaine recorded on the original (but this ain’t it).

Dean Martin - Everybody Loves Somebody (1964)

From my Dad’s generation, the 50’s lived-on well into the 60’s (and Dean Martin is partly to blame). Another example of Blaine’s diversity.

Jan And Dean - Little Old Lady From Pasadena (#3 in 1964)

Love the classic eight-note snare pattern at the chorus…

Jan And Dean - Dead Man’s Curve (#8 in 1964)

‘Be My Baby’ but faster (and more morbid…).

Johnny Rivers - Mountain of Love (#9 in 1964)

Well, I love Johnny Rivers. He was the just the right mix of handsome pop star, rock and roller guitarist and cowboy sharpie. There are no great shakes here on the kit, but the song is perfect.

Lorne Green - Ringo (1964)

Herein lays a Cartwright…

The Beach Boys - I Get Around (#1 in 1964)

As radios began to improve sonic choices started to show through, witnessed here by the deeper snare sound.

The Beach Boys - Fun Fun Fun (#5 in 1964)

The great drum roll at :18 and the hi-hat/Telecaster rhythm duet make this song, hands down.

The Marketts - Out Of Limits (#4 in 1964)

I don’t know much about punk rock, but I can imagine The Ramones covering this.

If I were to characterize each of the four drummers I’ve profiled so far, I’d start by portraying Steve Gadd as the street-corner griot. In the tradition of the village story-teller, Gadd is the guy who marches behind the raconteur, pounding out the rhythms that accompany the news and stories of the day. If Paul Simon is a modern day Stephen Foster, then Gadd, the drum corps expatriot, is the marching band that follows him. Like the guys you see on the New York city street corners, Steve Gadd is the guy who can create a million-dollar drum kit out of cardboard boxes.

Jim Keltner is, at once, the noisiest but also the most symphonic. He’s the rock and roll version of Jack deJohnnette, using every crack and crevice, cymbal and snare of his kit to produce a multi-textured palette of sounds. If you go back to the example from the John Lennon album (or listen to his work on the “Little Village” record), you hear a thick texture of sound on many of his cuts.

Russ Kunkel is your uncle, the one you can always count on. (Sorry, I just couldn’t resist the rhyme). Whether it’s a cover of an old R&B tune or a straight-ahead Southern California rocker, you could always count on him to be there, be square and be right on the beat. Porcaro, on the other hand, is like your crazy older brother, the one who always stayed out late and missed school the next day. He’s the one who’d show up for one rehearsal per month (or one cut per album); some days he’d be remarkably average and other times he’d be so blindingly good that you have to excuse him his shortcomings.

This bring us to the subject of Hal Blaine. Now approaching 80 years old (and still recording!), Blaine is arguably the dean of all session drummers. As a part of the LA session group known as The Wrecking Crew (so named because older session cats said rock and roll was “wrecking the business’), Blaine by his own account has played on over 150 top 10 singles during his career (40 of which reached Number 1). In 1963 and 1964 alone, he played on 29 Top 10 singles. From his first Top 10 with Connie Francis (in 1961) through his recordings with Elvis, The Byrds, Simon and Garfunkel and just about every made-for-TV band in the 1970’s, Blaine is the most widely known drummer who’s name no one knows.

Blaine is the taste-maker, the four star chef of session drumming. Deftly adaptable to whatever was on the chart but with a deep sense of musicality that made him slightly funky but never overbearing, Hail Blaine laid the foundation for all that was to come. He is a nice-course dinner of rock and roll drumming.

There’s no way to cover his career in just one pass, so here’s a baker’s dozen from the chef, covering all but one of his Top 10’s from 1961 through half of his output in 1963.

Connie Francis - Mama (#8 in 1960)

White pop in the 1950’s through the pre-Beatle years of the 1960’s did very little, if anything, that was original. Everything that appeared on the pop charts was co-opted from some other source (be it southern blues or European art songs). This is an example of the latter, complete with a drum track so light it could be meringue. This is a prophetic track: it sounds very much like another singer Blaine supported in the seventies who went by the name of Karen Carpenter (though KC didn’t have the same range as dear old Connie).

Connie Francis - Where The Boys Are (#4 in 1961)

If you listen closely to ‘Mama,’ then follow it with this track, you recognize one of Blaine’s greatest strengths: his brushwork. Not that there’s anything wrong with today’s players and their 40 piece kits; but, listen to how expressive Blaine is with little more than a hi-hat, snare drum and (very quiet) bass drum. On AM radio’s in 1961, that’s all that was needed.

Elvis Presley - Can’t Help Falling In Love (#1 in 1961)

This is one of my favorite Elvis tunes, mostly because I can sing along without hurting myself. There’s nothing here that expands too much on ‘Where The Boys Are’; but it’s beautiful. There’s a slight note of reverb on the snare drum that’s not present on the previous track.

Elvis Presley - Return To Sender (#2 in 1962)

Another song played so many million times that it takes an entirely different mindset to get Blaine’s message. What is he saying? He’s saying: Here’s the snare drum sound that everyone from Slim Jim Phantom to your mother will try to get out of their kit.

Herb Albert - The Lonely Bull (#6 in 1962)

(One-And-A)-(Two-And)-Three-Four. (One-And-A)-(Two-And)-Three-Four. Next, the bride will throw the bouquet!

The Crystals - He’s A Rebel (#1 in 1962)

Remembering back to the AM radio where all these songs first appeared, we understand why the snare drum and cymbal sound was so important: with a limited frequency range coming out of those transistor radios, they WERE the beat. Great 16th-note pattern on the (high pitched) toms!

Bobby Darin - Eighteen Yellow Roses (#10 in 1963)

Bobby Darin (who wrote this one) probably owes some money to Marty Robbins (who wrote ‘El Paso’); there’s a slight resemblance, don’t you think? Interestingly, the drum beat is a cowboy-ified version of ‘The Lonely Bull’.

Bobby Vee - The Night Had A 1000 Eyes (#3 in 1963)

One part polka, one part Ed Sullivan orchestra, one part Latin swing, one part Vegas, all wrapped up in a 3 minute pop song. Like Barry Manilow’s recording of ‘Bandstand Boogie,’ this record falls flat without the drummer.

Elvis Presley - (You’re The Devil In Disguise) (#3 in 1963)

One part cha-cha-cha, one part Eddy Arnold, one part Benny Hill: a guaranteed formula for success.

Jan and Dean - Surf City (#1 in 1963)

Jan and Dean - Drag City (#10 in 1963)

By the time this charted in December of ‘63 (Oh What A Night), Blaine was just 34 and had played on 16 Top 10 singles that year (and who knows how many more that didn’t chart that high). The lesser known of Jan and Dean’s two ‘city’ hits, this was one of Blaine’s four Top 10 efforts for ‘the poor man’s Beach Boys’.

Leslie Gore - She’s A Fool (#5 in 1963)

Hot on the heels of Gore’s biggest hits, ‘It’s My Party’ and ‘Judy’s Turn To Cry’, this was the next to last of her Top 10 hits (though she continued to record singles into the 1970’s). Better production values are starting to show on this record as the soft ride and snare drum sound have much greater depth than in past records.

Sam Cooke (#10 in 1963)

I promised you Blaine could get funky. Close your ears to the Sam’s soul and listen to the drums alone. Among the greatest opening drum beats in pop music.

ZIP: Hal Blaine - ‘61-’63

Next up: The rest of 1963 and some of 1964