As I was driving to work this morning, I was falling in love all over again with Allison Shaw, vocalist of The Cranes. As I’ve pointed out to so many friends, everytime I hear The Cranes, the most unlikely association pops up, the song featured in today’s Lost 45s. I fiorst published this in my other on-line music thing, the now defunct Moonlight Radio, back in 2006. But just in case you missed it…

[audio:http://www.paulcollegio.net/juke/juke0609/45.mp3]

The article below is excerpted from a fan’s tribute website, and I have to say, I agree with most of it. This is a captivating song, and, I think, influential in a variety of subtle ways. The phrase _just like heaven_ pretty much originates in this song, and it appears in many rock songs as recently as The Cure’s ‘Just Like Heaven’. And her vocal styling – I’m not sure if innocent is the word I’d use. It’s kind of stylized in the sex-kittenish tones of the day, and her humid adenoidal slur is the foundation for many female rock vocalists from Deborah Harry to Alison Shaw of the Cranes to Stanton Miranda (of Arsenal with Kim Gordon and of Thick Pigeon). The article below explains a lot about the record – like how it escaped onto the market with such a terrible instrumental break, and why it sounds like it was recorded in a tin can – it WAS.

This is the quintessential 45, and no one’s record collection is complete without it. And I mean no-one, from the rock-n-roll purist, to the 45 RPM historian, to the kitsch-culturist, to the hippest new wave vinyl junkie to the most post-modern noisehound. There were millions pressed, so there is no excuse NOT to own one. (I even have an extra copy for sale…)

Here’s a shot of Rosie’s solo album for Brunswick Records, circa 1963.

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Rosie was born in Oregon, lived in Alaska and eventually settled in Southern California in 1956. She attended Granger Jr. High School in National City, California, and was active in the glee club. It seemed that there was always music or entertainment of some sort in the Hamlin household and Rosie was exposed to a variety of genres at an early age. Her Dad played guitar and her grandfather played banjo and harmonica. Her grandfather even had a _travelling medicine show_ complete with _Hamlin’s Snakebit Oil!_ Sometimes, Rosie would hide behind the couch so she could stay up and listen to them play, falling asleep to the sounds. One of her earliest memories was at the age of 4 standing on a box in her back yard pretending it was a stage and putting on a show.

When she was just 13, Rosie’s friend Alfred Barrett encouraged her to enter a talent show at their junior high school. While babysitting with a friend, Rosie spotted an ad in the paper for a group looking for a singer. She called them on the phone and they asked how old she was. Rosie told them she was 16 and she proceeded to sing Dark Moon over the phone. They liked what they heard and asked her to come to their rehearsal. She had to sneak out of the house under the guise of going to a babysitting job. When she got there, Rosie had the group thinking she was 16, partly because of some make-up she borrowed from her mother. She performed with the group and was a regular with them for a while at gigs in the San Diego area including the famous Bostonia Ballroom in El Cajon, California, which was her professional debut. _My legs were shaking,_ recalls Rosie.

That year, two important things happened that would change Rosie’s life forever. First, her mother bought her an old upright piano and her aunt began teaching her how to play it. She would play by-ear music she would hear on the radio. She learned old honky tonk, blues and boogie songs many of the _twelve-bar_ variety. Her uncle’s girlfriend later invited some other musicians over to the house to _jam._ These guys were David Ponci (guitar), Noah Tafolla (guitar) and Tony Gomez (bass). They would eventually become the Originals with two other guys joining in and Tafolla would later become her husband.

The other important thing that happened when Rosie was 14 was her putting down to paper the classic Angel Baby. It started out as a poem about a boyfriend written in her school notebook. Later, Rosie would add the melody for it. Rosie says that the melody was not, as some have reported, based on the song Heart and Soul, although Rosie acknowledges that it was probably influenced by a number of songs that she learned to play on the piano of the _Heart and Soul_ variety. Anticipating that it could be a special song, Rosie recalls that she mailed herself a copy via certified mail to prove the date that she created it. This would turn out to be an important decision later on when she needed to prove authorship.

After a few months of jamming together and playing some shows for friends at school, the Originals decided it was time to record. But rather than drive all the way to Los Angeles, the group decided to try a local recording shop in the rural desert community of San Marcos, California – about an hour’s drive away. They arrived at the place which turned out to be an abandoned airplane hanger! The owner was in the process of converting over from an airplane supply company and had airplane parts all over the place. In one corner, was his small, makeshift two-track studio. The group prepared to record. Only one problem – their sax player – Alfred Barrett hadn’t arrived. After calling Barrett, they learned he wouldn’t be joining them because he had to cut the grass at home! The group improvised. Noah taught the sax part to bass player Tony Gomez who had played some horn in school. The group then set off to record Angel Baby.

In all fairness, the setting wasn’t the greatest – an abandoned airplane hanger, a simple two-track machine, an inexperienced sax player and probably a nervous rest of the group. It took _all day_ recalls Rosie to get what the group thought was a decent version of the song. To listen to it now, it certainly wouldn’t win any awards for recording quality [he’s totally being kind…the instrumental break completely sucks! LOL! Listen to it! Now I understand how it got cut that way! – Paul]. But the record is so simple and innocently-beautiful that it actually matches the lyrics and melody. It actually works as-is. Had it been taken into a studio, recorded with high quality equipment and a professional orchestra, it may not have been a hit. It probably would have been _over produced_ like many records of the time and may have been overlooked. Instead, the record is so simple and sweet, it has a unique appeal.

In 1966, this New York group came off very much like a Lovin’ Spoonful Jr., scoring a minor hit with a cover of John Sebastian’s ‘Younger Girl’ and then chalking up their only Top 20 single with the very Spoonful-esque original ‘Mr. Dieingly Sad.’ The group’s soft harmonies and pop folk-rock were in a considerably lighter vein than their Kama Sutra labelmates, though. Much of their material was self-penned, though they also benefited from compositions by Jackie DeShannon and Brill Building tunesmiths Pete Anders, Vinnie Poncia, and Doc Pomus. Recording quite a few singles and an LP for Kama Sutra from 1965 to 1967, their gentle pop/rock was rather lightweight, with the exception of their best singles. After a final Top 40 hit in 1967 (‘Don’t Let the Rain Fall Down on Me’), principal songwriter Don Ciccone was drafted, and the group struggled on with a couple albums for the Project 3 label before splitting.

I just think this is a fabulous song because of the couplet ‘…you’re so mystifyingly glad./I’m Mr. Dieingly Sad.” So many of my navel-gazing friends and fans of The Clientele everywhere desperately need to know this song.

While visiting my nephew and his wife in Virginia a few weeks ago, they put on some kids’ music and we laughed as we watched my baby great-nephew wiggle and dance to the music. But that voice. I know it. and the buzz rode up in me and nagged at me until my nephew said. “I love this guy’s music. He used to be in this band a long time ago, in Boston…” and just as he said the name of the band, it burst out that dark closet in my mind as well. Of course. The Del Fuegos. That’s Dan Zanes!

Suddenly, it was 1982 again, at the Inn Square Men’s Bar (Ladies Invited!) in Cambridge, where I’d seen the Del Fuegos, along with The Neats, The Lyres, The Turbines, and countless others countless times. That voice is just unmistakable.

The DelFuegos were a staple in the post-punk roots rock revival thing going on back then, and the crowd was distinctively a raucous punk rock crowd. Untold amounts of beer was consumed, to the point of never quite being able to find my car…a blessing in disguise. But I digress.

A Side: I Can’t Sleep
[audio:http://www.jukeboxheart.com/lost45s/delfuegos/file0057.mp3]

B Side: I Always Call Her Back
[audio:http://www.jukeboxheart.com/lost45s/delfuegos/file0058.mp3]

So here is the first single the band put out, for tiny indie label Czech Records. It doesn’t appear on their official discography, and only the B Side got reissued in 1993, on the fantastic DIY: Mass. Ave. – The Boston Scene (1975-83) compilation CD. The A Side, presented here, remains out of print. The B Side got considerable airplay on my own radio program.

The Del Fuegos won critical favor and a loyal, if not ravenous, cult following at home and on the road for their passionate, no-frills style. Formed in 1980, the Del Fuegos consisted of guitarist and singer Dan Zanes, his brother Warren Zanes on guitar, bassist Tom Lloyd, and drummer Steve Morrell. They began to gain support outside of Boston with the band’s first few low-budget tours. While the Del Fuegos began recording an album for legendary local label Ace of Hearts Records, who are most famous for Mission of Burma, but whose back catalog is just SOLID and is worth your time to research, in 1984 the famed Los Angeles indie Slash Records (who gave us X and The Violent Femmes among many others!) stepped in and signed them, releasing their first album, The Longest Day, in the fall of that year. By now, Steve Morrell had parted ways with the band, and former Embarrassment percussionist Woody Giessmann had taken over the drum kit. The Longest Day’s mixture of attitude, guitar firepower, and heart-on-the-sleeve emotion clicked with both critics and fans, and the Del Fuegos seemed poised for a commercial breakthrough with their second album, 1985’s Boston, Mass.

While “Don’t Run Wild” and “I Still Want You” earned enough radio and MTV airplay to make you crazy and the album received rave reviews, it wasn’t the hit some were hoping for, and the more self-consciously hip members of the music world began to turn their backs on the band after it appeared in a widely seen beer commercial. Actually, it wasn’t the commercial itlsef, it was the dumbass line “Rock n Roll is folk music cuz…it’s for folks!” that sent everyone away incredulously sighing.

The band began reaching for a more ambitious sound and wider musical range on its third album, but 1987’s Stand Up received harsh reviews and little support from fans, despite the Del Fuegos’ appearance on an extended tour with noted fan Tom Petty (who also guested on Stand Up), in which the group shared the opening slot with the Replacements. After Stand Up’s disappointing reception, Woody Giessmann and Warren Zanes both quit the Del Fuegos, and the band was dropped by Slash. In 1989, Dan Zanes and Tom Lloyd decided to give the band another chance, bringing aboard guitarist Adam Roth and drummer Joe Donnelly and cutting a new album, Smoking in the Fields, but while critics were kinder to the new set than Stand Up, the album was a commercial bust, and within a year the Del Fuegos were history.

Dan Zanes went on to a solo career and in time found success with a series of acclaimed children’s albums, at least one of which is responsible for me digging up this gem and making this Lost45s entry here in Jukebox Heart.

Lost 45s is a new category in the Jukebox Heart blog.

The cherished 45 RPM record celebrated its 50th anniversary just a few years ago to little applause. Completely overcome by events in technology, the 45 lives on as an icon to American culture cutting across lines perhaps moreso than any other piece of Americana history. Once the heart and soul of Jukeboxes everywhere, the “7-inch” remains now only as a kitsch promotional item among major labels and as a boutique niche market item for collectors of alternative music. Nevertheless, the 45 remains a staple of listening for many die hard music fans. This new category pays homage to the 45 RPM record. The track presented here is a 45 just aching to be rediscovered.

Barbara George’s ‘I Know (You Don’t Love Me No More)’ topped the R&B charts in 1961 and has proven a popular cover item ever since. The New Orleans native had never been in the studio before she brought her extremely catchy melody to Harold Battiste’s fledgling A.F.O. label. Benefiting from her pleasing, unpolished vocal and a melodic coronet solo by Melvin Lastie (NOT Herb Alpert, as has been rumored in the past – despite the similarity), the tune caught fire, vaulting high on pop playlists. Amazingly, nothing else George did ever dented the charts, although she waxed some listenable follow-ups for A.F.O. and Sue.

Born Barbara Ann Smith in 1942, she sang in church and on the streets of New Orleans, where she was discovered by the singer Jessie Hill, who had written and recorded the Mardi Gras favorite ‘Ooh Poo Pah Doo’. By this time she was married, and would record under the name Barbara George. Hill took her to audition for Harold Battiste, who was setting up the A.F.O. (All For One) label with the crème de la crème of New Orleans African-American session musicians. George based ‘I Know (You Don’t Love Me No More)’ on the traditional gospel song ‘Just A Closer Walk With Thee’ and Battiste wasn’t too impressed at first, though he agreed to help her cut the track.

Originally released at the end of 1961 on A.F.O., the catchy single soon gained nationwide distribution by Sue Records. It topped the R&B charts and crossed over to the US pop listings, eventually peaking at No 3 in January 1962. ‘You Talk About Love’, George’s follow-up single, only made the lower reaches of the Top 100 and, after releasing the first album on A.F.O., she signed directly to Juggy Murray’s Sue operation, joining a roster which included Ike and Tina Turner and Baby Washington. However, George only issued four singles on Sue – ‘If You Think’ and ‘Send For Me (If You Need Some Lovin’)’, another minor hit, ‘Recipe (For Perfect Fools)’ and ‘Something’s Definitely Wrong’.

Battiste, the New Orleans arranger who had been her mentor, rued the day she had decided to join Murray’s label, telling John Browen, the author of Rhythm & Blues In New Orleans: “Fatherly advice is no good when you’re fighting Cadillacs, fancy clothes and money.” The success of George’s début 45 helped put A.F.O. on the map, but also brought problems since it was only achieved with the help of Sue. Battiste moved to California in 1963, a few months after George’s defection to Sue. George subsequently issued a few more sides on Lana and Seven B in the ’60s, before dropping out of music to look after her three sons.

This is definitely part of the soundtrack of my childhood, along with countless other songs. These were the sounds of the early 60’s, when my brother and sister were teens, and I was just going along for the ride in my stroller… Here is a beautiful copy of this classic 45.