186. The Righteous Brothers – You’ve Lost That Lovin’ Feelin’ (1965)

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Widely regarded, and for good reason, as one of the greatest songs of the last century, You’ve Lost That Lovin’ Feelin’ is probably mad genius producer Phil Spector’s finest work.

Spector had begun his career as co-founder of The Teddy Bears, and was responsible for their 1958 US number 1 To Know Him Is to Love Him. They split the following year and he moved into production, becoming the apprentice of Lieber and Stoller. He co-wrote Ben E King’s Spanish Harlem with Lieber and produced the original version of Twist and Shout by The Top Notes.

In 1961 Spector formed a record label with Lester Sill. Acts including the Crystals and Darlene Love began having hits on the new Philes Records, and in 1963 he used them all, along with the hitmaking session group known as The Wrecking Crew, to produce the classic Christmas album A Christmas Gift for You from Philes Records. The LP hit record shops on 22 November, the day President Kennedy was assasinated.

The hits kept coming, and Spector was on top of his game. In 1964 he was conducting the band for a show featuring one of his best acts, The Ronettes. Also on the bill were The Righteous Brothers – Bobby Hatfield and Bill Medley.

Previously, Hatfield (born Robert Lee Hatfield on 10 August 1940 in Beaver Dam, Wisconsin) had been in a group called The Variations, while Medley (born William Thomas Medley on 19 September 1940 in Santa Ana, California) sang in The Paramours. Barry Rillera was in both groups and suggested that the duo would work well together.

Hatfield and Medley formed a new version of The Paramours and signed to the small label Moonglow Records in 1962. However the following year the group split, but Hatfield and Medley decided to continue as a duo. They would perform for Marines at the El Toro base, where black Marines began calling them ‘righteous brothers’. And so, the name stuck. As they searched for fame they wound up supporting both The Beatles and The Rolling Stones on their US tours.

Spector worked out a deal with Moonglow and took the duo under his wing. He commissioned Barry Mann and Cynthia Weil. Mann had previously been a performer, co-writing Who Put the Bomp with Gerry Goffin and recording it. Mann and lyricist Weil fell in love, married and began a career together as brilliant songwriters. Hits included We Gotta Get Out of This Place by The Animals.

Mann came up with a new melody and the opening line was inspired by reversing a lyric he had used in I Love How You Love Me, namely: ‘I love how you close your eyes when you kiss me’. The duo came up with the majority of a song, including the placeholder line ‘You’ve lost that lovin’ feelin’ Spector came up with some elements, including ‘Now it’s gone, gone, gone, whoa, whoa, whoa’, which Weil disliked. But she and Mann were pleased with an idea for the bridge he came up with, which was a piano riff similar to Hang On Sloopy.

The trio took the song to The Righteous Brothers, who thought it had potential – but not for them, for The Everly Brothers. Spector, Mann and Weil slowed the song right down so it could fit with Medley’s deep baritone, and the duo started to think they might have something they could work with, but they were used to equal status on records, and Hatfield was unhappy at waiting until the chorus to join in. When he asked Spector what he was supposed to do in the meantime, the producer said ‘You can go directly to the bank!’

The Righteous Brothers weren’t needed for a few weeks until the instruments were all recorded. As usual, Spector used his trademark technique of building up layer upon layer of music, with The Wrecking Crew as his band. Eventually the perfectionist Spector was pleased with the epic, delibarately blurry sound he had created. Medley and Hatfield were brought in and spent 39 takes in two days recording the vocal. The Blossoms, which featured Darlene Love, provided backing vocals, and also involved at the song’s climax was Cher, who had helped out on the Ronettes’ Be My Baby.

You’ve Lost That Lovin’ Feelin’ is truly majestic and few songs capture the heartbreak and sense of loss in a failing relationship better. It starts so slow and quietly, to the point that many (including Mann) believed they were playing it at the wrong speed to begin with, so deep is Medley’s baritone. The opening line is just genius. And thanks to Spector’s knack of timing, the build-up is done perfectly. By the end, Medley and Hatfield are raging to return to the love lives they knew, but to no avail. It’s gone, gone, gone.

Grand, lush arrangments in sad songs were nothing new to the charts – the UK charts were full of them until the advent of rock’n’roll, but none had the Spector sound. He might have been a paranoid control freak (and eventually, a murdering psychopath), but like Joe Meek, he was one clever bastard too.

With the recording over, The Righteous Brothers wondered if they’d made the right choice. This style of song was hardly in fashion at the height of the British Invasion, after all, and at three minutes and forty seconds length, it was also longer than most tracks. Spector refused to cut it back, but he was sneaky and requested the vinyl label would say ‘3.05’ to trick DJs into playing it. Despite his cockiness, the producer began to have serious doubts himself. His publisher Don Kirshner thought it should have been called Bring Back That Lovin’ Feelin’, for instance. He devloped a spastic colon and didn’t sleep for a week.

All the work and stress paid off, and then some. By and large, critics loved it from the get-go, and understandably wondered if we’d reached the pinnacle of pop. Released in the UK in January, it took four weeks to climb to the top.

In that time, Cilla Black, then at the top of her game, rush-released a verison of her own, and the two versions were nearly neck-and-neck at one point. The difference in the two versions was gaping. Black’s was not only clearly a cheap knock-off, but her chorus was bloody horrible and offensive to the ears. Fair play to the Rolling Stones producer, Andrew Loog Oldham, who was so disgusted he decided to take out a full-page advert in Melody Maker, extolling the beauty of the original. It was in fact Oldham that first coined the term ‘Wall of Sound’ to sum-up the Spector sound. The public saw sense, and for the first time, Spector had a UK number 1. He later said this song was his greatest achievment at Philes Records.

The song’s legend has only grown over the years. It regularly appears in the lists of greatest songs of all time, and in 2015 the National Recording Registry of the Library of Congress chose it as one of the 25 songs that has ‘cultural, artistic and/or historical significance to American society and the nation’s audio legacy’. But it was in the UK that the ultimate tribute took place, when in 1996 the comedy actor Paul Shane performed You’ve Lost That Lovin’ Feelin’ on the BBC1 daytime show Pebble Mill. Ever since, ‘BABEH BABEH!’ has become the ultimate expression of the powerful beauty of music.

Written by: Phil Spector, Barry Mann & Cynthia Weil

Producer: Phil Spector

Weeks at number 1: 2 (4-17 February)

Births:

Director Martha Fiennes – 5 February 

170. Cilla Black (Accompaniment directed by Johnny Pearson) – You’re My World (Il Mio Mondo) (1964)

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Three months since her first number 1, Anyone Who Had a Heart, Cilla Black was at number 1 again, with You’re My World. This ballad was an English language version of the Italian Il Mio Mondo, written by Umberto Bindi and Gino Paoli. The original was not a hit, but George Martin saw enough in it to commission it as Black’s follow-up.

The new title and lyrics came from Carl Sigman, who specialised in rewriting lyrics and turning them into UK hits, several of which – Answer Me, It’s All in the Game and The Day the Rains Came – went to number 1.

I think I made my feelings towards Cilla fairly clear in my last blog on her, while at the same time being pretty complimentary about Anyone Who Had a Heart. I couldn’t deny the quality of the song and considered Black’s performance stronger than the Dionne Warwick original. However, You’re My World (Il Mio Mondo) is inferior, and shows up Black’s weakness as a singer. Although this actually worked in her favour last time around, my ears weren’t so keen this time.

Black starts low, which is manageable, but at about a minute into the track, her voice explodes into what sounds like a impression of a caricature of her voice – the kind you’d get on Spitting Image in the 80s. Lyrically, You’re My World (Il Mio Mondo) is nothing to write home about – not compared to a Bacharach and David song, anyway. It’s your average overblown love song in which the singer bigs up her lover to be some sort of godlike figure. As average as it is, it’s saved by an epic George Martin production, which builds from stabbing strings at the beginning (which do suggest Cilla may be some sort of deranged obsessed lover/murderer) into full-blown orchestral loveliness courtesy of Johnny Pearson and female vocal trio The Breakaways. Her future husband and manager, Bobby Willis, also sang on the recording.

You’re My World (Il Mio Mondo) helped firmly establish Cilla as the country’s biggest female singing superstar, and it was a huge hit in several countries. However, despite the fact she had many other smashes in the UK, and is the country’s biggest-selling female solo artist of the decade, it was her final number 1.

She divided opinion even then. In 1965 Randy Newman called her version of I’ve Been Wrong Before the best cover anyone had ever performed of his material. The same year, when her version of You’ve Lost That Lovin’ Feelin was beaten to the top by The Righteous Brothers’ cover, The Rolling Stones’ manager Andrew Loog Oldham took out an advert in Melody Maker to deride Cilla’s performance.

Nonetheless the hits continued, including, among others, her theme song to the film Alfie, written by Bacharach and David. By the end of 1966 she had begun making inroads into television, with her own TV special and an appearance on Peter Cook and Dudley Moore’s Not Only But Also. Epstein had arranged for Black to star in her own series for the BBC shortly before his death in August 1967. Relations had become somewhat strained, with Black feeling Epstein had stopped giving her career the attention it needed. Bobby Willis took over as her manager, and her career improved in 1968 with the number eight hit Step Inside Love, written by Paul McCartney as the theme to her series Cilla.

Other than Cilla, and some attempts at comedy (seeing her attempts at being funny on TV when growing up, I can imagine these were pretty bad), the 70s were relatively quiet for Black. Bill Cotton asked her to consider becoming Bruce Forsyth’s replacement on The Generation Game in 1978, but Black declined and Larry Grayson got the job. She may have subsequently regretted doing so, as the early 80s saw her reduced to cabaret shows.

However, an appearance on Wogan in 1983 went down so well, she found herself in demand once more. Many of the generation that had grown up buying her music were now parents and in need of Saturday night entertainment in front of the box. It’s the Cilla that presented Surprise Surprise from 1984 and Blind Date from 1985 that I grew up with. Ironically, when Blind Date was in development, camp comedian Duncan Norvelle presented a pilot in 1985, but John Birt had reservations about Norvelle’s humour. He clearly wasn’t as open-minded as Bill Cotton in 1978 when Larry Grayson took on The Generation Game.

I was an avid TV viewer as a child, and would watch anything put in front of me, but despite enjoying both shows, I was firmly on my dad’s side in being irritated by her catchphrases and singing, even as a six-year-old. But the fans outweighed the critics and Black became a national treasure and the highest-paid female performer on British television. My mum even appeared in the audience on Surprise Surprise once, and my cousin also featured and won on Blind Date. My main memory of that is of us visiting her house shortly afterwards and discovering her parents had a parrot that liked swearing.

By the turn of the century, both long-running shows were struggling with viewing figures, and Cilla left London Weekend Television. She appeared on many panel shows and had a cameo in ITV comedy Benidorm. 2013 saw ITV celebrate her 50 years in showbiz with a one-off special, The One and Only Cilla Black, hosted by fellow scouser Paul O’Grady. In 2014, Sheridan Smith starred as the singer in the well-received three-part ITV drama Cilla, focusing on her relationship with Willis, who had died in 1999.

In 2014 Black stated she wanted to die when she reached 75, as she couldn’t stand to suffer into old age like her mother did. She was already suffering with rheumatoid arthritis, and her eyesight was failing. She was 72 when she fell and died of a stroke at her holiday home near Estepona, Spain on 1 August 2015.

Her funeral was a star-studded affair, with Cliff Richard singing at the service and a eulogy from O’Grady. As her coffin left the church, the Beatles song The Long and Winding Road was played. Paul McCartney, who had been instrumental in bringing the girl-next-door-turned-national-treasure to the public eye, believed Cilla’s 1972 version of his song was the definitive one.

Written by: Umberto Bindi & Gino Paoli/Carl Sigman (English lyrics)

Producer: George Martin

Weeks at number 1: 4 (28 May-24 June)

Births:

Actress Kathy Burke – 13 June 

Meanwhile…

16 June: Keith Bennett had turned 12 only four days before he went missing. He was on his way to his grandmother’s house in Longsight, Manchester when Myra Hindley pulled over in her Mini and asked Bennett for help with loading some boxes, in return for a lift home. Her friend Ian Brady was sat in the back when he got in. They drove to a lay-by on Saddleworth Moor, where Bennett walked off with Brady. The following day, yet another missing persons investigation for a child opened in Manchester.

165. Billy J Kramer with The Dakotas – Little Children (1964)

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Riding high at the top of the charts after toppling Cilla Black, were yet another act connected to The Beatles. Billy J Kramer with The Dakotas had scored three hits penned by Lennon and McCartney, the most popular being their 1963 number 1, Bad to Me.

Understandably, they decided if they wanted to secure a long-term future, they needed to step out of the shadow of the Fab Four. The fact The Dakotas had also scored a hit with their self-penned instrumental, The Cruel Sea, only backed this belief up. And so the group found themselves doing the unthinkable when they turned down another Lennon and McCartney original, One and One is Two, and opted to record Little Children instead.

You have to admire the boldness of Kramer and co, but unfortunately it was as unwise a move as it was brave. If you’re going to try something new in 1964, don’t pick a song by former Elvis collaborators, whose best days were now behind them.

Little Children is a rickety, sickly sweet slice of old-fashioned pop that not even George Martin could turn to gold. In recent years it has received criticism for its sub-paedophilic undertones. If you ask me, this is harsh. It’s a song written in more innocent times, and is actually about a teenager or young man who’s desperate to cop off with his girlfriend, but her siblings are getting in the way, so he tries to win them over and silence them by offering sweets and money. What I won’t excuse, though, is the fact this is a crap, irritating song, and Bad to Me was much better.

But in the short term, the group’s move proved to be a wise one, as following this final number 1, they released another Lennon and McCartney track, From a Window, which only made it to number 10.

In July, bassist Ray Jones left following an argument with Brian Epstein, which was the first in a series of line-up changes. Music was getting heavier and weirder in the next few years, and Kramer’s softer style, plus a drink problem, meant declining fortunes, so in September 1967, Kramer and The Dakotas went their separate ways.

The Dakotas split a year later, with several members joining Cliff Bennet’s band. They reformed in the 80s, with Eddie Mooney on vocals, and in addition to many appearances on the nostalgia circuit, they worked with comedian Peter Kay on the excellent Peter Kay’s Phoenix Nights (2001) and the dire spin-off Max and Paddy’s Road to Nowhere (2004), with new member Toni Baker co-writing all the music to both series with Kay. Kramer is also a regular on package tours of yesteryear, and in 2016 released his autobiography, Do You Want to Know a Secret?

Written by: Mort Shuman & John Leslie McFarland

Producer: George Martin

Weeks at number 1: 2 (19 March-1 April)

Births:

Northern Irish racing driver Martin Donnelly – 26 March

Meanwhile…

19 March: The winter of 1964 dragged on into a cold, dull and wet March. Electric power workers were threatening industrial action, which had raised fears of power cuts. Fears intensified on this day when talks broke down. Minster of Labour Joseph Godber appointed Lord Justice Pearson to chair a court of enquiry into the dispute.
On the same day, the government announced plans to build three new towns to act as overspill for the overpopulation problems in London.

28 March: The first famous pirate radio station, Radio Caroline, began broadcasting from a ship anchored outside of UK territorial waters off Felixstowe. It started as an attempt to break the monopoly of the BBC on the airwaves.

30 March: Reports of violent disturbances between mods and rockers at Clacton beach hit the news for the first time.

164. Cilla Black (Accompaniment directed by Johnny Pearson) – Anyone Who Had a Heart (1964)

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Hmm. Cilla Black. I try to come to all these reviews with an open mind, but I was never a fan. I think many people of my age feel the same, too.

To us, she was that wailing banshee that ruled over weekend television in the 80s, presenting Blind Date and Surprise Surprise, wailing the theme tune of the latter at a pitch that could shatter TV screens if you had the volume too high. To my mum, she was a national treasure, to my dad… well, lets just say we felt the same.

When she died in 2015, the media mourned, but if you dug deep on the internet, there were countless stories of a puffed-up prima donna, hated by airplane staff primarily. It seems ‘our Cilla’ could be a nasty piece of work. Now obviously I don’t expect every artist out there to be a lovely person, but when that’s the image they make their money from, it can grate.

That’s my touching tribute out of the way, now on with the facts. Cilla was born Priscilla Maria Veronica White in Liverpool on 27 May 1943. She became determined to make it as a singer while in her teens, and tried to get her foot in the door with a part-time job as a cloakroom attendant at the Cavern Club. It was the perfect example of ‘right place, right time’, as The Beatles were residents there, and they were impressed by her impromptu performances.

She appeared as a guest singer for local acts including Rory Storm and The Hurricanes, who featured Ringo Starr on drums. The local music publication, Mersey Beat (whose name soon coined a whole musical movement) featured her in its first edition, but accidentally referred to her as Cilla Black. She made it her stage name.

Black was introduced to Brian Epstein by John Lennon. Epstein’s roster was rapidly growing, but initially he showed little interest in her. She was never the most technically-gifted singer, but her initial audition with him was a disaster. The Beatles provided her backing on Summertime, but a lack of rehearsal meant that they played it in the wrong key. However, Epstein saw something in Black, a girl-next-door image that could go down well, and a passion to succeed, and in 1963 he took her under his wing.

As someone who’d always struggled to understand just why Cilla was so popular, I assumed The Beatles connection was the sole reason she became famous in the first place. This no doubt played its part, but her debut single, a Lennon-McCartney original called Love of the Loved, barely scraped the charts. Lennon and McCartney were only just learning the ropes of songwriting, what about a duo with previous number 1 success?

Anyone Who Had a Heart was written by one of the decade’s most famous songwriting partnerships, Burt Bacharach and Hal David, for Dionne Warwick. It had become her first top 10 single in the US in January. A scout for George Martin suggested the track could make a strong single for Black. Shirley Bassey had also been mentioned as a possibility, but a canny Bacharach was keen on Black releasing it. He knew that Liverpool was fast becoming one of the most musically important cities in the world, and believed that could only help the song’s chances.

It seems Warwick has never forgiven Black for outperforming her version in the UK, and she has mentioned several times over the years that she considers Black’s version a complete copy. Having compared the two, I surprised myself by siding with Cilla. Not only that, I actually prefer her version. Now that really surprised me.

Black’s voice has never done anything for me, unlike Warwick’s, but I find Cilla’s more soulful and passionate. As the song is about heartbreak, this is how it should be. Warwick’s may be classier, but it’s a bit tame by comparison. Yes, Johnny Pearson’s arrangement is very similar, but I’m not sure what Warwick expected could be done to make it so different. The whole thing smacks of sour grapes to me. So, yes, I found myself appreciating a Cilla Black song! It helps of course that it has the Bacharach and David magic touch. This is a great slice of 60s pop.

Due in part to the rise of beat music, primarily consisting of four or five men on guitars and drums, there hadn’t been a female artist at number 1 since Helen Shapiro’s Walkin’ Back to Happiness in November 1961. Cilla Black ended the drought, and helped give rise to a new type of female singer – a working class, distinctive, a girl-next-door type that may not be the most technically gifted singer, but could make their own mark and inspire others to have a go.

There you go, I’ve bigged up Cilla Black. I’ve surprised myself.

Written by: Burt Bacharach & Hal David

Producer: George Martin

Weeks at number 1: 3 (27 February-18 March)

Births:

Prince Edward – 10 March
Actor Shane Richie – 11 March
Footballer Lee Dixon – 17 March