275. Zager and Evans – In the Year 2525 (Exordium and Terminus) (1969)

By the time Honky Tonk Women was knocked off its lofty perch after five weeks, the second Isle of Wight Festival was in full swing. 150,000 people witnessed Bob Dylan’s comeback, and the Who put on a memorable show. Other acts included Free, the Bonzo Dog Band and the Moody Blues.

Number 1 at the time were the folk duo Zager and Evans with their one and only hit In the Year 2525 (Exordium and Terminus), a kitschy sci-fi doom-laden track proved a timely release in the aftermath of the Apollo 11 moon landing. But it’s certainly no Space Oddity.

Denny Zager and Rick Evans were both born in Nebraska, in 1944 and 1943 respectively. They met at Nebraska Welseyan University in 1962. While there they joined the band the Eccentrics, along with drummer Danny Schindler (who later joined the Benders… stop laughing). In 1965 Schindler left for Vietnam, and Evans then also left the group. At some point in the previous year, he had written the original, unheard version of In the Year 2525 (Exordium and Terminus), which was likely more in keeping with the fashionable folk-rock scene of the period.

They went into the studio to record their hit after becoming a duo in 1968, by which point they had backing from Mark Dalton on bass and Dave Trupp on drums, who both also played with the Liberation Blues Band.

I don’t think I’ve ever got over the fact that In the Year 2525 (Exordium and Terminus) doesn’t live up to its name. It should be cosmic psychedelic rock, like Funkadelic, but it’s musically dull, repetitive and dated – it doesn’t even stand up to scrutiny when you try and excuse it by saying ‘well it was written in 1964 originally’. Folk music was already in much more adventurous territory back then.

Zager and Evans think they are smarter than us and want us to know that humans are doomed. Now, I happen to agree with them, especially with the current state of our politics, and reading recently that we have 18 months left to save the planet from climate change, but many artists have made this point way, way better than Zager and Evans. The lyrics are awful. Sixth-form standard, if that. Some of their predictions are prescient, such as the rise of automation, but their time scales are stupidly huge. Every verse jumps up from 2525 to 6565, with various nightmare scenarios. Some genuinely horrible, such as ‘Ain’t gonna need your teeth, won’t need your eyes’, but some which are pure pulp fiction, like taking a pill every day that controls your thoughts. Sounds like an episode of Star Trek, which never did much for me.

Then we suddenly jump to talk of judgement day in 7510, purely because they want a number that rhymes with the dire line ‘If God’s-a-coming, he ought to make it by then.’ Well, you’d hope so, wouldn’t you?! But no, we shoot all the way up to 9595, and Zager and Evans are ‘kinda wondering if mankind is still alive’. All over the same boring rhythm. And then, we’re back in the year 2525, and it starts all over again! God, please don’t wait, put us out of our misery now!

I’m all for a bit of melodrama, but the pompous vocals lay it on so thick, it goes from laughable to just really grating. I kept this song in my collection for years, as I found it comically bad for a while, then after listening to it for this blog, I realised I don’t ever want to hear it again, and deleted it. It all also sounds like I imagine a no-deal Brexit could wind up, and we’re getting dangerously close to that.

Much more enjoyable is Flight of the Conchords’ spoof of this sort of thing, The Distant Future.

With the decade drawing to a close, and man landing on the moon, thoughts were turning to what the future held, and if we even had one. And purely for these reasons, Zager and Evans found themselves at number one in the US and the UK. They seized the moment and recorded an album, 2525 (Exordium and Terminus) with Trupp and Dalton plus other musicians.

And how did they follow up their number 1 single? With Mr Turnkey, a song in which they expected the listener to feel sympathy for a convicted rapist as he kills himself in prison. Poptastic! Needless to say, they this sank without trace. I’m almost curious to hear such a terrible idea for a single. Almost, but not quite.

Zager and Evans released an eponymous album in 1970, before splitting up after 1971’s Food for the Mind. The one-hit wonders disappeared, though Evans later recorded with Pam Herbert and formed his own label, Fun Records in the late 70s, on which he released new material and re-recorded Zager and Evans songs.

Evans died in April 2018, to no media attention whatsoever, which makes me feel rather sad. I may be highly critical of the song, but he had his time in the spotlight and it should have been noted, however short it may have been. In spring this year, his recordings made it on to eBay after relatives disposed of his estate.

Zager is still alive and builds custom guitars at Zager Guitars in Lincoln, Nebraska.

In the Year 2525 (Exordium and Terminus) remained at number 1 in the UK until 19 September. Also that month, housing charity Shelter released a report on 11 September that claimed up to 3,000,000 people were in need of rehousing due to poor living conditions. And on 16 September, iconic 60s fashion store Biba reopened on Kensington High Street.

Written by: Rick Evans

Producers: Zager & Evans

Weeks at number 1: 3 (30 August-19 September)

256. The Beach Boys – Do It Again (1968)

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On 31 August and 1 September 1968 the first Isle of Wight Festival took place. Held at Ford Farm, near Godshill, roughly 10,000 people saw headliners Jefferson Airplane, along with the Crazy World of Arthur Brown, the Move, Tyrannosaurus Rex and Fairport Convention, among others.

Reigning at the top of the charts that week were the Beach Boys, for the second and last time. But whereas their previous number 1 Good Vibrations explored a brave new world of sonic adventure, Do It Again was a throwback to the surfing sound of the early days of the group. Like the Beatles and the Rolling Stones, the Beach Boys went back to basics – well, almost.

As 1966 had drawn to a close, the Beach Boys were riding high both critically and commercially. Good Vibrations was such a spellbinding track, the next album, SMiLE, promised to be their answer to the Beatles’ Revolver. It wasn’t meant to be, though. Brian Wilson was a genius, but SMiLE proved to be his breaking point, and it was repeatedly postponed as his paranoia and perfectionism took charge, before it was shelved in 1967. Their woes continued when the group were slated for pulling out of their Monterey Pop Festival headlining slot at the last minute.

In July, their new album, Smiley Smile, salvaged from the wreckage of SMiLE, was slated. Although in years to come it eventually garnered praise, it was their worst-selling album at that point, and it was downhill from there. Jimi Hendrix, the new US sensation in the UK, also dismissed its single, Heroes and Villains. The year ended with the release of Wild Honey, but once again, a Beach Boys album underperformed, only to gain critical reappraisal eventually. But of course, an oversensitive Brian wasn’t to know what the future held, and he must have been in turmoil. His songwriting decreased rapidly.

Friends, their first album of 1968, was more of a group effort, and featured songs inspired by their experience of Transcendental Meditation with the Maharishi Mahesh Yogi, along with the Beatles. Also that June, Dennis Wilson befriended a struggling singer-songwriter called Charles Manson. He urged his brother Brian to show interest, but Brian disliked him. A few weeks later they released a stand-alone single.

Do It Again was originally known as Rendezvous, and its lyrics were inspired by a day at the beach Mike Love spent with an old friend. Love put some lyrics together and presented them to his cousin Brian, who began playing around on the piano. They worked together on a chorus, and according to Love, their second UK number 1 was complete in 15 minutes.

With its nostalgic lyrics, recalling ‘Suntanned bodies and/Waves of Sunshine/Calfifornia girls and a/Beautiful coastline’, trademark sunkissed harmonies and its brevity, Do It Again is certainly regressive when compared to Good Vibrations. However, its drums, played by Dennis and session musician John Guerin, are a step forward, and the most adventurous we’ve heard on this blog since Cathy’s Clown by the Everly Brothers in 1960. The compressed, metallic sound came from engineer Stephen Desper, who used tape delay units from live shows meant for vocals to create a clattering of echoed drumbeats. For years I’ve found this drumbeat familiar. I’ve also found the drums in the 1998 song Remember, by French electronic duo Air rang a bell too. Only from researching this did I find out they are one and the same. Remember, indeed.

So yes, the drums are great, and the swaying rhythm is pretty cool, perhaps even a bit, dare I say it, sexy (not a word I’d normally equate with the Beach Boys, and I doubt anyone else does). But it’s hard not to feel a bit underwhelmed by Do It Again, and wonder why this did so well in the UK, especially compared to their home country. Perhaps the idea of surfing in America still held some lustre in dismal old England. Or maybe its a nice little tune that I’m being harsh on, and it just happens to pale in comparison to Good Vibrations, which after all is one of the greatest singles of all time. It has endured over the years, though – its ‘did it’ vocal hook directly influenced Eric Carmen on She Did It, ABBA on On and On and Hall & Oates on Did It in a Minute. It was also re-recorded by members of the Beach Boys several times, including a 2011 version by surviving members of the band to celebrate their 50th anniversary.

Do It Again became the opening track on their 1969 contractual obligation album 20/20, which consisted of mainly outtakes and leftovers. One track on there, Never Learn Not to Love, was a rewrite of Charles Manson’s Cease to Exist. Manson had exchanged his credit for cold hard cash and a motorbike, but he was angry when he discovered Dennis had changed the lyrics. Dennis distanced himself from the increasingly disturbed Manson, and later that year the Manson Family began their killing spree at his command.

As the 1970s began, the Beach Boys signed with Reprise Records and recorded Sunflower, widely regarded by their fans as their best album after Pet Sounds. In 1971 came Surf’s Up, featuring the whistful title track that had originally been intended for SMiLE. Bruce Johnston, who had joined the band in 1965 to replace Brian in live shows, departed shortly after the release. In 1972, Ricky Fataar and Blondie Chaplin joined them at the request of Carl Wilson, and their sound toughened up.

Several underperforming albums followed, but the Beach Boys wode a wave of nostalgia in 1973 following the release of George Lucas’s coming-of-age comedy American Graffiti. Fataar left in 1974, and became a member of Neil Innes’s Beatles spoof band the Rutles, among other things. Meanwhile, Brian had become an alcoholic, overweight recluse, also inclined to taking heroin. In 1975 he went under the care of psychotherapist Eugene Landy, cleaned up somewhat and became the main producer for the Beach Boys once more, although this created a fractious atmosphere.

Despite this, their 1977 album The Beach Boys Love You, originally planned as a solo album for Brian, proved a bold departure, featuring a proto-new wave sound at times and featuring synths. It divided opinion, but Brian loves it.

The rest of the 70s were not a good time for the group, with internal tensions becoming unbearable. The Beach Boys split – for less than three weeks. All three Wilson brothers struggled with alcohol and drugs.

Things did improve, sales-wise in the early 80s when Johnston returned, but Dennis and Carl were largely absent. Following an overdose in 1982, Landy brought Brian back to health under a strict regime, but Dennis was struggling more and more, and sadly drowned in 1983, aged 39. In 1987, they had a hit with the Fat Boys, collaborating on a cover of Wipe Out, and a year later they scored an unexpected hit with Kokomo – considered by many fans to be their nadir. The Beach Boys were now a long way from that cool group who had made Pet Sounds.

Much of the 90s was spent with Wilson and Love at each other’s throats. They made the headlines in the UK in 1996 when a remake of Fun Fun Fun with Status Quo saw both bands unceremoniously kicked off BBC Radio 1’s playlist. In 1998, Carl, the voice behind so many of their classics, succumbed to brain and lung cancer.

As the 21st century dawned, the Beach Boys splintered more than ever. This unexpectedly led to a huge boost for Brian, who went solo and worked with the Wondermints, who did a brilliant job at sounding like his former bandmates. In 2004 he released Brian Wilson Presents SMiLe. The nervous, shuffling figure that appeared on stage at Glastonbury Festival in 2005 may have been a shadow of his former self, and he would have been lost without his new band, but that blazing Sunday afternoon he blew the crowd, myself included, away. After days of rain and sodden mud, the sky was blue and mentally we were all in California (we were certainly not in a normal place, that’s for sure).

As the 50th anniversary came around in 2012, Brian Wilson, Mike Love, Al Jardine, Bruce Johnston and David Marks reunited for a live tour and new album That’s Why God Made the Radio. Unsurprisingly, it was short-lived, with Wilson and Love falling out yet again.

It’s all too easy to see Brian as the sympathetic figure in all these arguments. A sad but loveable genius, pushed around by his nasty cousin, who doesn’t give a shit about the artistic legacy of the group and only cares about the money. It’s all too easy, because it’s the truth. Yet despite Love’s best efforts, the Beach Boys will always be considered one of the greatest groups of all time, and that’s primarily because of Brian Wilson.

Written by: Brian Wilson & Mike Love

Producers: The Beach Boys

Weeks at number 1: 1 (28 August-3 September)