One Hit No More, No. 114: Red Rider, CanRock Kings (+ Cars!)

Yes, seriously. Regular musicians.

The hardest ones to write about are the work-a-day musicians....

The Hit
When some source reminded me that MTV had Red Rider’s “Lunatic Fringe” on heavy rotation, my first thought was “yep.” A very young me mainlined their famous single and took in its half-paranoid lyrics and sound-scape as a glimpse into the world of adults and adult concerns. The eerie beginning sets the mood nicely, though I think it’s the way the strum-bursts of guitar play with the picked guitar foundation that most people recognize in game-show time. The main thing I remember is the contrast between the raw scrape and soaring notes in the slide guitar bridge/solo – which makes sense, seeing that I came to the song through the music video. I’m not sure I knew a guitar could do that at the time (10, I was 10).

Like a growing number of hit singles in this series, I describe the genre as “rock of a certain time and place” – Canadian, for one thing, and I’ll get to that – but, listening to it now...shit, 40 years later, and with the added context, I can’t get away from “sounds like Brian Adams.” And yet it doesn’t really.

MTV could only push it so far, but “Lunatic Fringe” did all right in the States, but mostly – and for that particular single – on what Billboard’s its “Rock Albums & Top Tracks” chart, where it hit No. 11. Red Rider hit Billboard’s regular-ol’ Hot 100 with three completely different songs, but if you meet someone who can name different single by Red Rider that isn’t “Lunatic Fringe,” congrats, you found yourself a rare animal. Or, just as likely, a Canadian. Tom Cochrane, the man who wrote the song, acknowledged its longevity and steady popularity in a 2017 conversation with The Wire Megazine (best source for color commentary, fwiw):

“It’s in the top 300 rocks songs of all time for airplay, so I’m very proud of ‘Lunatic Fringe.’ And, the subject matter is very contemporary when you look at what’s happening in the world today. So I’m very proud of that tune.”

He’s not kidding about its ongoing relevance, especially lyrically...even if I think he overrates half the equation:

“'Cause you've got to blame someone/
For your own confusion/
We're on guard this time (on guard this time)/
Against your final solution/
Oh no.”

Oh, and it’s big among the pro-wrestling and/or UFC scenes. Kurt Angle used it back when...

Crash Course Timeline, No. 45: The Andrews Sisters...For Fans of the Tabloids

The good times were good. Which makes the bad times worse.

“The following night, they sat in the Edison's soda fountain, hoisting a final toast to their failed dreams.”

“In her 1993 memoir Over Here, Over There, Maxene wrote about that night. As they sat in the soda fountain, in walked a man with pointed-toe shoes and a wide, snap-brim hat. In a gruff New York tone, he announced he was looking for the Andrews Sisters.”

“’Who's asking?’ they responded. ‘Jack Kapp from Decca Records,’ the man said. ‘He wants them to come audition.’”

“In unison, they declared, ‘We're the Andrews Sisters!’”
- MNopedia, short bio (2017)

The Andrews Sisters did plenty in unison – singing, dancing, acting, the classic triple-threat – but long, incredibly bitter feuds defined their lives off-stage, particularly after their parents died. The only performer who out-performed them through the 1940s was Bing Crosby (covered in an earlier chapter, because how could I avoid it?) – but he out-performed (literally) everybody – but Andrews Sisters helped him score several of his biggest hits, including “Pistol Packin’ Mama” and (I love this damn song) “Don’t Fence Me In.” (And that was the tip of the iceberg: Bing and the Andrews Sisters shared 47 recordings through the ‘40s, 23 of them hits.)

With Bing or without him, they recorded over 600 songs, moved 90 million units, and earned 15 gold records on the back of jukebox play and 46 Top 10 hits. The peak of their fame coincided with World War II to the extent that they went a long way to defining the pop culture of the war years – and it goes way beyond “Boogie Woogie Bugle Boy” (that's a video-clip for a V-disc, btw) Their pop culture footprint both was and is, frankly, stunning (you’ll see). Their success only makes the way they started more surprising.

By birth-year and vocal range, the Andrews Sisters were, LaVerne Sophia (1911; contralto), Maxene Anglyn (1916, soprano) and Patricia “Patty” Marie (1918, mezzo-soprano); there was a second sister, between LaVerne and Maxene named Anglyn, but she died at eight months in 1916. Their mother, Olga “Ollie” Sollie, came from Norwegian stock, while their father, Peter Andreas, was Greek; the Norwegian side didn’t approve of the union, but they got over it after LaVerne’s birth. And, reading between the lines, they went with Andrews as a stage-name.

One Hit No More, No. 113: Quarterflash, Hardened Hearted Local Legends

Fellini, MFs.

For at least the tenth time, a band cannot be a one-hit wonder if they release two hits. And that label falls all the way off if they’ve got three Top 20 hits, plus three more in the Top 100...

The Hit
“It wasn’t a personal story – just made it up. The chords are simple but voiced so as to make it sound more complex than it is. The whole song is really the groove which we called a shuffle in those days. Rindy came up with the sax line. The whole thing was written in less than a week and recorded in our basement for the Seafood Mama version. It sold 10,000 copies in Portland and Seattle and was the key to us getting signed to Geffen records.”

“The lyrics describe a situation where the singer finds strength to leave her man and is determined to do it without getting all emotional.”
- Rediscover the 80s, 2021 interview with songwriter/guitarist Marv Ross

I don’t always get a solid, detailed telling about how a band developed their hit, but I found really solid material of Quarterflash’s, “Harden My Heart”; if nothing else, I know what to call its tres-80s rhythm structure. To pick up the stray name referenced in the quote, Seafood Mama was Marv and Rindy Ross’ original band - less a pure (adult-oriented) rock band than Quarterflash and one that included Marv Ross’ violin teacher as a regular member – and the “Portland” referenced in that quote is Portland, Oregon. The version of the single that everyone knows was re-recorded at Sausolito’s famous Record Plant under the hand of John Boylan, a legendary producer (he helped stand up The Eagles) and, in Marv Ross’ telling, an all-around great guy.

The Rosses worked with session musicians on the first pass at Quarterflash’s debut album, but, when they returned to Portland to take a break between sessions (Geffen gave ‘em a long leash), they bumped into another local band called Pilot, did some playing together and heard good chemistry. So they kicked out the session guys and finished recording the album with Quarterflash’s original line-up.

Marv Ross, who did nearly all the songwriting for the band, borrowed the title, “Harden My Heart” from a collection of poems a friend had passed on to him; he only took the title and, to his credit, he paid his friend for the title. I remember the video from watching it on MTV, but its “Fellini-esque concept” went over my head (just caught up). One final bit of trivia on Quarterflash’s break-through single, this one from Classicbands.com:

Crash Course Timeline, No. 44: Billie Holiday, Triumph and Tragedy

This one feels right.

“Her bluesy vocal style brought a slow and rough quality to the jazz standards that were often upbeat and light. This combination made for poignant and distinctive renditions of songs that were already standards. By slowing the tone with emotive vocals that reset the timing and rhythm, she added a new dimension to jazz singing.”
- PBS.org, American Masters Series (June 2006)

If your first experience of a piece of music or a particular performer happens decades after they impacted music, the fuss doesn’t always translate. Billie Holiday broke molds, minds and ran headlong into barriers her entire life. It’s a minor miracle she made it to adulthood, never mind an iconic place in pop culture. Because most of the fuss happened before the internet, I expect I’ll struggle to do her justice, but this feels like a good place to start.

“If I'm going to sing like someone else, then I don't need to sing at all.”
- Billie Holiday (Biography, 7 Things You May Not Know About Billie Holiday)

While minor questions exist, most sources agree Holiday was born to two unwed teenagers in Philadelphia on April 7, 1915. She spent more of her childhood with her mother, Sarah Julia “Sadie” Fagan – her father, Clarence Halliday, left to pursue a career in music was she was very young - but, even given those circumstances, her home life veered between unstable and outright dangerous, as well as various cities (mostly Baltimore). Sources also generally agree spent her tween-to-teen years in a reform school (sometimes for her own protection) and doing chores and running errands at a brothel (and even getting arrested for prostitution, though that could be a wrong place, wrong time thing). The Biography piece claims she worked for a chance to listen to the madam’s Victrola instead of getting paid. Holiday recalled Bessie Smith’s “West End Blues” as a favorite, but she loved Louis Armstrong too.

After moving to Harlem to live with her mother again, Holiday, then 17, found work as a dancer-for-hire. When the dancing work slowed down, she asked the manager to let her sing. Though lacking in musical education of any kind, Holiday’s talent immediately came through. Over the next couple of year, she partnered with a tenor sax player named Kenneth Holan, working small venue and building a reputation. She took her stage-name from two sources: “Billie” from Billie Dove, an actress she admired, and “Holiday” from her long-estranged father, who performed under that name. (She met him as an adult when he played with Fletcher Henderson’s orchestra.) With the Harlem Renaissance in full-swing, people in a position to help her took notice – including John Hammond, the famous impresario/Svengali who played a major role in pushing black jazz and blues into mainstream musical culture. Hammond wasted no time in getting her into a recording studio; Holiday was still 17 years old when she recorded her first songs – “Your Mother’s Son-in-Law” and “Riffin’ the Scotch” – both with a then-unknown Benny Goodman.

One Hit No More, No. 112: Soft Cell, More Tainted than "Tainted Love"

Odd pair, but, damn, it worked.

This single spent 43 consecutive weeks on Billboard’s Hot 100. That record no longer stands. Not even close, really.

The Hit
“We were living in a crummy Housing Association bedsit. The view from my bedroom window was the wasteland where the body of The Yorkshire Ripper’s last victim was found – there was still police tape on the site.”
- David Ball, 2018 interview, Classic Pop Magazine

That introduces the multiple incongruities around “Tainted Love,” one of the few natural pop songs Soft Cell ever wrote. The real/radio single opens with the unmistakable synth blast - three simple chords, the shortest of progressions – before Ball fills in the sound-scape with longer synth tones to ground it and the simplest electronic kick/snare you’re ever likely to hear. Marc Almond’s voice comes in, clear and cool, but also defiantly wounded; the synth blasts pulse into the verses, appropriately intrusive. It’s a little anti-melodic, musically, or rather Soft Cell rely on Almond to provide the melody – particularly in the extended version, which goes out on a reworking of The Supremes’ “Where Did Our Love Go.”

That last detail seems less out of place if/once you know “Tainted Love” is a cover of a largely-forgotten song Northern Soul singer named Gloria Jones. Even that has a whole “circle of life” aspect to it, in that both Ball and Almond were big fans of T. Rex back when, and Jones was romantically involved with Marc Bolan (and driving the relevant car, if memory serves) when he died.

According to at least one source (Wikipedia), “Tainted Love” also represented something of a last chance for Almond and Ball. After making a little noise in the “northern” scene, they signed to the UK label Phonogram and recorded, "Memorabilia" (which video features a certain famous, Cindy Ecstacy) a single that did all right on the club circuit (particularly in the States, oddly enough), but that didn’t impress the label so much. Soft Cell came back with “Tainted Love.” There they were, two lads just out of Leeds Polytechnic and here they had a No. 1 hit in 17 countries, some for nearly all of 1981. Apparently.

The Rest of the Story
The oddest thing about Soft Cell could be where they came up – Ball in Blackpool, UK, Almond in Southport. Both men figured that setting informed their sensibilities, if in expected ways. As Almond recounted to On: Yorkshire Magazine:

One Hit No More, No. 111: Tommy Tutone, Who Married Someone Named Lisa

They are both Tommy Tutone.

I can get a song stuck in your head in seven numbers...

The Hit
“I saw her about five years ago and asked her if she wanted anybody to know who she was and she said no.”

First, yes, there was a real Jenny. Also, Tommy Heath (wait for it) told classicbands.com that 867-5309 was her parents phone number, which makes you worry a little. I remember hearing rumors about what happens when you dial 867-5309 (also, is it stuck in your head yet?) back in early ‘80s suburban Ohio – some trafficking in the ridiculous shit pre-teen boys make up when they try to sound worldly before they’ve seen much of it – but calling a random number from a song also sounded like something people would do (and then we got the internet and now we get that shit on loop.)

The rumors were true: people really did call the phone number Tommy Tutone made famous – and in nearly every area code, apparently – and at least one person who interviewed him repaid the favor:

“It caused a lot of trouble, which I learned about because people who were mad at me put my phone number in their article about me. I had to change it. I’m sorry folks, we were just messing around.”

Tommy Tutone’s “Jenny/867-5309” has a wide enough grip on a certain period of pop culture that if you fed 100 random strangers the number “867,” I’m guessing most could come back with “5309” - though some might refuse to along because you just got the damn song stuck in their head.

50% song, 50% punchline. I remember mocking Heath’s vocals at the time – sounded like he gargles milk before picking up the mic (says the long-time Elvis Costello fan) – but it’s not a terrible song. I comes from a fairly specific, short-lived sub-genre of 80s rock – post-dad-rock (e.g., Foreigner), but with new-wave tones/production on the guitar and about one-third to one-half the tempo of punk – and I don’t hate that sound...maybe it’s the way the hook takes over until it’s all you hear that makes it what Heath acknowledges it to be:

“I don't know about people who never heard of me. Maybe people that didn't take it too seriously. It's a novelty song basically.”