File under “songs with numbers in the titles.” Weirdly, the A-side sounds too fast, and the B-side too slow—but at least “3625” has a nice groove to it—and a great title (“3625 Groovy Street”)—which is also the chorus—sung in a goofy, singsong by what sounds like three teenage girls. Who are The Wildcats? I’m not spending all day on the internet to (attempt to) find out—so it remains a mystery. Apparently the “Hazlewood” noted as songwriter (both songs) is indeed Lee Hazlewood—one of my favorite songwriters ever. Makes sense, this is on Reprise, and “3625 Groovy Street” sounds like something he’d come up with. “’64” has its moments—a really hot guitar solo, in that old rock’n’roll guitar style—really nice one. The gist of that song is, we’ve learned The Twist, etc., and so forth, but that’s old hat—so what are we gonna do in ’64? “Will it be something strange and new or will it be something old and blue?” That’s the (sung) question. What were the fads in 1964? There was that Troll Doll. Dumb, but much better than Internet Trolls. I don’t know what else. I know there was this record, with some groovy organ and hot guitar and enthusiastic singing teen-sounding girls. For me, personally, I’m sure there was a lot new—being four years old—but I can’t really remember it! Heavy drinking and smoking weed were, for me, still a decade off.
Posts Tagged ‘Lee Hazlewood
The single “Sugar Town,” from 1966, was Nancy Sinatra’s third or so big hit, after “These Boots Are Made for Walkin’” and “How Does That Grab You Darlin’?”—all of them written by Lee Hazlewood. They had quite an inspired collaboration, the two of them. Lee Hazlewood is one of my favorite singers and songwriters, and probably one of Nancy Sinatra’s, as well. They really had something going. If Lee hadn’t come along, Nancy might be best known for “Somethin’ Stupid”—which isn’t bad, and even kind of twisted, but nowhere as twisted as some Lee H. songs (like “Some Velvet Morning”). As far as I know, they never were a couple, either, which strikes me as kind of cool. Also, I don’t think there’s anything to that old rumor that Frank’s henchmen took Lee out in the desert and dropped him off a cliff. I imagine Frank rather liked Lee. Anyway, it’s a nice, poppy song, and has the distinction of rhyming Tennessee and Tallahassee, but it’s hard not to hear it as a drug allegory—most likely some kind of opiate—but then, it could just as easily be about being in love—or having a run of good luck.
The B-side, “Summer Wine,” is much better, though. It’s also written by Lee Hazlewood—and is a Nancy and Lee duet. It’s a great song— a three-and-a-half-minute epic, with strings, drama, mysterious imagery. It’s essentially them alternating half a dozen verses, but as Nancy’s verse is repeated, it serves as the chorus, while Lee’s verses tell the story—pretty much a tragic Western noir. At first, Nancy’s lines (“Strawberries, cherries and an angel’s kiss in spring…”) sound innocent, nostalgic—but as Lee’s lines (“My silver spurs were gone, my head felt twice its size…”) advance the story of a cowboy who’s come to town to be seduced, drugged, and robbed—Nancy’s lines, even though they don’t vary, take on a completely darker complexion. With each of her parts, even though the words are exactly the same, you might hear increasingly sinister subtext. Again, it could be an allegory for drugs, or crime, or just love gone wrong. Maybe all of those, but then again, maybe something else as well. Or… dare you imagine it… maybe it’s simply love. It’s a pretty incredible song, actually—one of my favorites from those two.
I’ve had and lost countless Nancy Sinatra records—all of them include some really great songs, and occasionally an annoying song—but they’re all worth owning, particularly the older ones. Always excellent album covers, with Nancy wearing something that mere mortals can’t get away with—like this one, on bathroom tile pink, where she’s creatively wearing what looks like matching linen end-table covers—fashioned into a skirt and blouse. This is another record from 1970! It’s a real hodgepodge of songs, all of it listenable, especially if you’re a Nancy Sinatra fan. I personally don’t hate “Something Stupid” (duet with Frank), but I wouldn’t mind never hearing it again. I could also do without the duet with Dean Martin (“Things”) but it’s kind of cute. As usual, my favorite songs are the Lee Hazlewood numbers—he was a great collaborator for Nancy, even if her dad didn’t approve. (I still don’t know if there’s anything to that story about Frank Sinatra’s henchmen taking Lee Hazlewood out to the desert.) If your daughter sang a duet like “Some Velvet Morning” with a guy who looked and sounded like Lee Hazlewood, you might want to have the guy’s legs broken, too—that’s one twisted song. It’s also my all-time favorite Nancy and Lee song—in my opinion, the best thing either of them ever did, apart or together—some serious pop-culture art. “These Boots Are Made for Walkin’” is a bit of a novelty, but still a fine song. “Summer Wine” is also an excellent one. This record also includes “You Only Live Twice”—the title song for the James Bond movie by that name. It’s one of my favorite five Bond title songs (the only reason I don’t say number one is there’s some seriously stiff competition in Bond title songs). It’s one of those songs that never fails to take me back to when I first heard it. Oddly, there’s room on Side 2 for one more song—if I’d been “the man” at Reprise, I’d have added, maybe “You’ve Lost That Lovin’ Feelin’” (one of my favorite versions of a song done by everyone), or the theme song from “Tony Rome,” or “The City Never Sleeps At Night” (a superior B-side), or “Sundown, Sundown”—just because it’s my second favorite Nancy and Lee song—kind of a companion to “Some Velvet Morning.” Also, I’d have put a different picture on the back cover (than the identical front cover)—just because… it’s a missed opportunity, when you have someone as beautiful as Nancy Sinatra—and a whole world of crazy wardrobe she would enhance.
Pete Rugolo “The Sweet Ride”
You might expect that the soundtrack of my favorite movie of all time would not be my favorite record of all time. Of course it isn’t. But part of my love for this the movie, The Sweet Ride (1968), is that the score is pretty great, as is the opening title song (which is also the end credits music). The score is by Pete Rugolo, who did tons of great scores, was an arranger and composer, made lots records, was all over the place. I’ll pick up any record I see his name remotely on. Also, this record is kind of two-for-one, because the title song (which sounds nothing like the score music) is by Lee Hazlewood and sung by Dusty Springfield—it would be worth buying even if the rest of the record was unlistenable, which it’s not. It’s a great title song, with really funny lyrics, and has been running a loop in my brain for the last 50 years. I mean that in a good way. The score has, what seems like, a deliberately trashy feel, which is appropriate, since it’s an exploitation movie. It kind of sounds like the score for one of those 1960s Tony Curtis movies where he plays a major sleaze, like one of those stories where a character from the Fifties rubs up against characters from the Sixties, and kind of comments on both eras, and the changing times, while trying to simultaneously sell itself with sex. But the score also rises above that—to a great degree, too—almost sounds experimental at times and, I think, is great art. This is appropriate because, in my opinion, the movie does the same thing. I mean, it rises above the exploitation movie, the trash movie, and is great art. Did I say it was my favorite movie of all time? (It isn’t, really, but it’s definitely tied for first.) It’s impossible to listen to this record without it recalling scenes from the movie—which is fine, and maybe it makes me like it more. But I would also say, as groovy as this record is, I might like it even more if I had never seen the movie. There’s my one word review: groovy.
I don’t want to get into an entire bio of Lee Hazlewood but I do have to include this legal disclaimer that he’s like my all-time hero, at least based on his style, singing, songwriting, and legend, and also the fact that he did the tile song (sung by Dusty Springfield) for my all time favorite movie (The Sweet Ride) as well as having a cameo part in that movie. If there are stains on his reputation or tales of bizarre behavior, there are other forums for that, but here I’m discovering this odd double LP with a much too specific title and questionable album art. Not because there are naked women or they are kneeling, looking up at him (you can only think about this humorously, right?) but because the women are all sporting fake LH-esque moustaches, and I’m sorry, but that’s where I draw the line.
This album is dated 2012, about 5 years after he died, and LHI stands for Lee Hazlewood Industries (his own record label in the late 60s) and it’s got a booklet with extensive notes which I unfortunately don’t have time to read, and it’s on this super heavy vinyl that someday is going to be cursed by the aching back survivors of record collectors (at least until they start selling the stuff off). Two records, 11 of the 17 songs written by LH, but they all sound like his songs. He sure knows how to pick songs to cover. He is joined singing, on a few songs, by Suzi Jane Hokom, Ann-Margret, and Nina Lizell. All the songs are good, most are weird, and several have those crazy kind of spoken introductions. Because of this modern packaging, it’s hard to remember that these were records that came out at about the time when I first started buying 45s. It would be cool to find the old versions. Pretty much, if you ever see a Lee Hazlewood record, no matter how dusty and scratchy it is, it’s worth picking up because it’s like a an artifact from a parallel pop music universe.
DJ Farraginous 
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