The height of exoticism in the 1960s, full of the colour and excitement of a tropic sun. Red, orange and magenta set the mood for an exciting evening with two of our best-known '60s stars, along with Maori singer and guitarist duo Isobel and Peter Cowan, Maori female vocal trio The Shevelles, and entertainer Chic Littlewood.
Ken Cooper Ltd: South American fiesta. John Rowles, first and only Wellington appearance. Allison Durbin, Gold Disc winner 1968. Winter Show Building, Friday 28 February. 7.45 pm. [1969]
Still in roughly real time, with Easter fast approaching. Will this week's artists have a spring in their step?
If I Only Had Time - John Rowles (peaked at Number 3)
The answer, at least on the face of it, is no, or it is for John Rowles. From the word go, this track's a slow, stately affair, with a gentle hummed opening and what might be a Mellotron. Somehow it all feels a bit Christmassy to me, though? It's vaguely reminiscent of When a Child is Born, I think that's got some of those same resonant mmmms. It's pretty enough, but it never really gets beyond walking pace.
Lyrically, it starts out a bit existential, with John singing about how if I only had time / Only time / So much to do / If I only had time / If I only had time / Dreams to pursue / If I only had time / They'd be mine. A sentiment that's relatable, but not super cheery. Time is short, you can't achieve all your dreams, you do what you can and then you die. Yeesh. Fortunately, the whole thing gains a slightly more hopefully, romantic tone in verse two, as it turns out the reason John's so melancholy's because he's met somebody special. Since I met you I've thought / Life really is to short, he now sings, loving you / So many things to do. Which is at least a little bit romantic. We end back on the so much to do / If I only have time train, though, which is still a bit of a bummer.
I'm somehow not surprised, in all this, to learn that it's an English version of a French original song, Je n'aurai pas le temps, by songwriter Michel Fugain. Weirdly, having looked Michel's original up, I do think it's a touch more optimistic, with lines about how to visit the whole immensity of such a big universe, even in a hundred years, I won't have the time to do it all. It's a similar sentiment, but there's less of a sense of an ever more hopeless to-do list, more wonder at just how much is out there. The emphasis in the romantic section is also different, with lines bemoaning how Michel won't be able to love his lover enough, even in a hundred years. It's a small shift, but distinctly better - alas, I fear the translators have done John dirty, here!
Simon Says - 1910 Fruitgum Company (2)
Now here's a band with a fun name! And living up to the name, this track does immediately feel bouncier and more lively than John did. The opening in particular is super snappy, just one brief organ riff, some hits on the drums, and then right in with some obnoxiously bright vocals that also sound not totally unlike the Scooby Doo theme tune - and given that Scooby Doo debuted in 1969, that might not entirely be a coincidence. I'm not saying that the good folks at Hanna Barbera stole the tune - consciously or subconsciously - but I think it's entirely possible that they were at least trying to draw from that same well of bubblegum goodness.
Because this is bubblegum pop, pure and simple. We've had touches of it already, the hippie era did bring with it lots of sugar-sweet, sunny-sounding songs. But it's here that the record companies, including the 1910 Fruitgum Company's Buddha Records, begin to deliberately court kids and younger teens. It's a smart move, if you look at what else is in the charts. Traditional rock is getting increasingly hard-edged and adult, the pop that's making it into the charts seems to either be trippy and drugged-up or schmalzy and uncool, and soul and R&B can be alarmingly sexy. None of these genres are entirely kid-friendly - and yet, there are increasing numbers of kids out buying records. Music targetting them directly's just a smart move!
Which give you this, a song that's chirpy and bright, with lyrics that are literally just a pre-recorded version of a playground game. There's a brief bit of set-up, the Fruitgum Company explaining that I'd like to play a game that is so much fun / And it's not so very hard to do / The name of the game is Simple Simon Says / And I would like for you to play it too. But that's all the set up that's needed for the rest of the song, which is just one big Simon Says game: put your hands on your head / Simple Simon says / Bring them down to your side / Simple Simon says / Now shake them to your right.
It cannot be overstated that while this is literal child's play, it's also kind of brilliant. It's like you took one of the old "the lyrics explain the steps" fad dance songs from the 50s, and gamified it. Even better, Simon Says is a game that everybody knows already, so you don't have to do a tonne of set-up to explain the rules, or anything. Give it a catchy enough tune and you're left with something that I'm pretty sure I'd have had a blast trying to do with my friends if I was, like, twelve. Honestly, I think this could be a good candidate for resurrection today, in the TikTok dance-challenge era. If not this specific hit, the idea of turning playground games into songs at least has potential, right?
Jennifer Eccles - The Hollies (7)
And we wrap up with the Hollies, a band I have historically liked quite a bit, with a song that - like Simon Says - is also a bit of a childhood throwback, the Hollies taking us back to their school days, with lines about white chalk written on red brick / Our love, told in a heart / It's there, drawn in the playground / Love, kiss, hate or adore. This is all very efficient, it's clear in four short lines that this is going to be a song about a schoolboy crush - something akin to the Move's Fire Brigade, a few weeks ago. I do like that we get the crush's full name here, though, Jennifer Eccles. It's such a charmingly specific detail. The fake little wolf-whistle effect after the I love Jennifer Eccles line in the chorus is also likably goofy, as is the dreamy la la la-la-la la la bit.
There's an appealing innocence to all of it, the Hollies writing their names on the ground and carrying Jennifer's satchel around. They finally learn that they've made the grade / Started me thinking, had she done the same? The Hollies are a UK band, and it was the 1960s, so a small part of me wonders if this is meant to be the 11+ exam, the worry being that while the Hollies have gotten into a good school, Jennifer might not have. There's something very sweet about that being the worst thing you're worried about, if so. There's a poignancy to it, too, with the lines about how I hope Jennifer Eccles / Is going to follow me there / Our love is bound to continue / Love, kiss, hate or adore. Because, like, what are the chances that these kids actually stay together? What's the chances they even remember each other, later in life, let alone know each other?
So yeah, a nostalgic, sweet sort of song, one that gets you thinking about your childhood, and where the people you knew and liked back then might have ended up - all of which is brought together with this really bright, sunny sound. There's lots of jangly guitar, an amount of cowbell, a four-note, descending bouncy bassline, some chugging guitar adding tension on the Monday morning lines, and then right back to the jangly tone for the la la las. There's something quite surfy about the guitar, actually - between that and the mild goofiness and the innocent, kid-friendly lyrics, it kind of feels like the prototype for the sort of stuff McFly will be putting out, a whole forty-ish years later.
John Rowle was quite clearly the outlier here, with a mature, adult song about mature, adult concerns. Which, surprise, surprise, was real depressing. Which there's a place for this, but I will say that I had a lot more fun with the Fruitgum Company and the Hollies. The Fruitgum Company in particular felt like they'd hit on a brilliant idea - I'm fully convinced that the 1968 version of me would have had a blast dancing around to Simon Says. Pleasantly silly. And yet, the song that charmed me the most has to be Jennifer Eccles, a song's that's bubblegum adjacent - in that it's bright, sweet and has some strong childhood themes - but that I'd hesitate to describe as proper bubblegum, seeing as how it's less a song that's aimed at kids, and more a song that's about being a kid. Which of course means its target audience are nostalgic adults - a demographic I at least occasionally do fall into, let it be said.
