Hurricane Smith -- "Oh Babe, What Would You Say?" (1972)

This morning, I read the lengthy obituary for former Beatles engineer and Pink Floyd signee Norman Smith in the New York Times. I was shocked to discover that this man, who had such an influential role in 60's rock and psychedelia production, was the singer of the early 70's novelty hit, "Oh Babe, What Would You Say?"

It's hard to believe that the man who worked with producer George Martin on every Beatles song from 1962 through 1966, and then signed Pink Floyd to EMI Records and went on to produce their first two albums sang this campy silly hit song that was about as far from rock and roll imaginable.

The early 70's was a field day for novelty hits -- the British ate them up -- and "Oh Babe, What Would You Say" fit right in the mold of left field success. I should devote a whole blog posting to some of them: C.W. McCall's "Convoy," Loudon Wainwright III's "Dead Skunk," everything ever played on the nationally syndicated "Dr. Demento" radio show, The Pipkins' "Gimme Dat Ding," Ray Stevens' "The Streak" and "Gitarzan," and the audio clip job from Buchanan & Goodman, "The Flying Saucer."

"Oh Babe, What Would You Say" sounded like it was recorded in the late 40's or early 50's, a British dance-hall type mid-tempo number with a cheesy orchestra, sweeping jazz drum brushes, and Hurricane Smith crooning on the verge of being in on the joke, his voice slightly pinched to sound like it's coming through a megaphone. It as the kind of song you imagine your grandfather danced to when he came home from the war.

Paul McCartney composed and sang dance hall-influenced numbers which were either ignored or despised by Beatles fans, like "Honey Pie" (White Album) and "You Gave Me The Answer" (Venus and Mars).

Despite "Oh Babe, What Would You Say" sounding like an out of left field wedding song from another era, it actually climbed high onto the charts. I never knew who Hurricane Smith was, and frankly he could have been the same guy who pretended he was Jethro Tull. Was it a catchy song for what it was? Sure, like the way Glenn Miller's "In The Mood" was.

In keeping with the corny theme, I have two videos below to salute Hurricane Smith -- one is a montage of classic cars with a few photos of Smith cut in, and then an absolutely cheeseball 1973 black and white clip of an entertainer singing the tune in French wearing an outfit right out of a Jerry Lewis movie.

The Steve Miller Band -- "Swingtown" (1977)

Steve Miller may be one of the luckiest rock stars of the 70's. He produced some spacey blues albums, had Boz Scaggs playing guitar in his band for a while, and could have remained a cult artist based on things like "Space Cowboy" and "Livin' In The USA."

Somewhere along the line, Miller must have drunk the Kool Aid and realized that he was not going to be be making any big bucks soon playing this progressive cosmic blues noodling. So he ditched a lot of the spacey stuff, focused on the blues part of the equation and added a serious dose of pop and the tables started turning.

First he broke through with the title song from The Joker, then went through the roof with Fly Like An Eagle (where he still couldn't help playing around on an echoed synth), and continued his hot run with Book of Dreams (aka more of the same).

Now Miller has had a handful of greatest hits albums, all repackaging the same catchy light blues-based rock tunes. He played tastefully, never really stretched out except in concert, and in their own funny way, they were perfect little pop songs. In retrospect, I don't know if Steve Miller had a profound influence on anybody except the Spin Doctors brief run of hits ("Two Princes," "Little Miss Can't Be Wrong), who showed you sometimes can't go wrong with a few basic major chords.

As much as I loved "Jet Airliner," which ruled the summer of 1977, I'm going to talk about probably the dumbest song on the album, "Swingtown," which was also deservedly a smash hit. I'd put "Swingtown" in the same category as Archie Bell & The Drells' "Tighten Up" and King Curtis' "Memphis Soul Stew" -- songs that were pretty much mostly instrumental, mostly about nothing except introducing one instrument at a time -- that was the entire point. You know, "show me some of that funky bass!" and the bass player goes thumbing around, then "let me hear the git-ar," and then the scratchy strings would join in.

"Swingtown" fades in with Gary Mallaber's drums playing this simple bouncy beat with sizzling hi-hats and a three kick thump. As far as I'm concerned, this song was Mallaber's show. He's grooving along on the drums, then some abbreviated guitars playing the three chord sequence, then the piano jumps in, the bass, and then three-stroke guitar chords. OK, the boys are all here. Then Miller yodels "woah-oh-oh-oh-oh" a couple of times for good measure. The three chords are working away with that steady bouncing beat, when Miller lurches right into the lyrics:

Come on and dance, come on and dance
Let's make some romance
You know the night is fallin'
And the musics callin'
And we've got to get down to swingtown!

Uh yeah. Then Mallaber is mixed right up front with a wicked fill across his snare and toms, and on the seventh chord, Miller adds this observation.

We've been workin' so hard
We've been workin' so hard
Come on baby
Come on baby lets dance
Come on, come on, come on
Come on, come on, come on
Come on, come on, come on

And if that's not enough, it's back to "woah-oh-oh" and another verse:

Come on and dance, come on and dance
We may not get another chance
You know the night is fallin'
And the musics callin'
And we've got to get down to swingtown!


Another Mallaber fill front and center -- which I always cranked up on the radio -- and then it just bounces its way into a slow fade, each instrument departing until it's just those drums.

I am sure it took these guys about, oh, a minute to write and arrange this song. Yet, and I say this in all seriousness, it's about as great a disposable a pop rock song that there is. Whaddya need in a rock song except begging your girl to go dancing? Didn't Bobby Freeman start it in the 50's (later to be redone by Bette Midler and The Ramones) with "Do You Want To Dance?"

So here's the Steve Miller Band doing it live in Georgia in June 2007, with everybody shouting the "woah-oh-oh-oh" part.

XTC -- "Senses Working Overtime" (1982)

I do not recall any English band since the Beatles who raised pop to an art form as much as XTC. With what can be called a rabid international cult fan base, the Swindon group certainly owe a great deal to the Fab Four's psychedelic era, yet write very biting political and utopian lyrics, with a satirical streak.

What's remarkable about XTC is that they have succeeded despite the extremely British nature and subject matter of their music. They understood the tricks of writing pop songs, the twisty kinds of things that made them stick in your head. You may even call them "gimmick," although you could never call XTC "slick." They constructed their songs as pieces of a puzzle in which you could not look away. Yes, they were quirky, but with such strong pop hook sensibilities, that they were one of those bands that made it seem effortless.

XTC has ridden a roller coaster of record sales, with their early singles and albums leading up to the incredible Black Sea album, followed by English Settlement, which contains the single I discuss today. I first heard "Senses Working Overtime" on WLIR-FM, Long Island's alternative rock and pioneering New Wave radio station. A minor chord dirge on the acoustic guitar, a booming drum like the kind you'd hear slaves rowing a ship to, and Andy Partridge's slightly-off gurgling vocals:

Hey, hey,
The clouds are whey.
There's straw for the donkeys,
And the innocents can all sleep safely,
All sleep safely.

My, my,
Sun is pie.
There's fodder for the cannons,
And the guilty ones can all sleep safely,
All sleep safely.


The song then rang out in a major key, Partridge's chiming English voice swooping in for the build up:

And all the world is football shaped,
It's just for me to kick in space
And I can see, hear, smell, touch, taste

And I've got one, two, three, four, five...
Senses working overtime
Trying to take this all in,
I've got one, two, three, four, five...
Senses working overtime
Trying to taste the difference 'tween the lemons and limes
The pain and the pleasure and
The church bells softly chime...


The brilliant "trick" is the chorus in which the drummer snaps his snare with each count of "One two three four five!" And then the whole thing goes into the upbeat chorus, accompanied by that tambourine, the key to any good pop chorus. The video below displays the song's intricacies, including the ringing black and white Rickenbacker seen clearly in the pre-chorus.