“Saturday Night Didn’t Happen” by Reparata and the Delrons.

1. This will probably not be the only appearance by Reparata and the Delrons on this blog. They are a veritable gold mine of material. And no, I don’t know what a “Delron” is. Nor a “Reparata,” for that matter, although for the purposes of this post, I’m just going to assume it’s the odd first name of the lead vocalist.

2. I couldn’t find the lyrics posted online anywhere, and they’re a little hard to understand what with all that reverb and layering and Reparata’s breathiness, so let’s just start at the beginning, work our way to the end, and hit the highlights.

3. Reparata starts right off with, “Sunday morning, if you can call it a morning…” I don’t know what this means. Here are three possibilities:

a) Maybe Reparata slept in past noon? If so, you can’t really call it “a morning,” because it’s Sunday afternoon.

b) Perhaps Reparata believes there to be connotations of hope inherent in the word “morning” because of the way it often represents new beginnings. Therefore, since on this particular morning Reparata feels so devoid of hope that she’d “rather be dead,” she doesn’t believe that this particular portion of her day is worthy of the title “morning.” But I’d say that this interpretation is generous in the extreme.

c) It’s meant as a rhetorical question (even though it isn’t phrased as a question) with the assumed answer being, “Yes, you can call it ‘a morning.’” Why? Because, as Reparata just said, it’s Sunday morning. If you can’t call Sunday morning “a morning,” then what can you call “a morning?” Moving on!

4. Now Reparata notices a “crazy” neighbor going to retrieve his newspaper even though it’s raining outside and the newspaper has gotten wet. What a nutjob!

5. Unfortunately, the distraction of her insane, perhaps even psychotic, neighbor retrieving his wet newspaper causes Reparata’s mental blocks concerning the events of the previous night to crumble away and she cries out in anguish as the memories come flooding back.

6. In a panic, Reparata resorts to complete denial and, after a small outburst, she drives the painful memories from her mind again and regains her composure. But all is not well. For one thing, she’s shaking. For another thing, she likens the vocalizations of her parrot to the squeaking of her chair which, unless the parrot is actually mimicking the squeaking of the chair, doesn’t really seem like an apt comparison. And finally, in order to silence this parrot’s “squeaking,” she feeds it a carrot. Now, I looked up a parrot’s diet on Wikipedia, and they eat seeds, fruit, nectar, pollen, buds, and sometimes arthropods. But they really only want seeds. In fact, they only eat fruit to get at the seeds. I believe that Reparata has made the tragic mistake of assuming that an animal wants to eat foods that rhyme with the kind of animal that it is. But according to this logic, a snake would want to eat cake, an antelope would want to eat cantaloupe, a whale would want to eat kale, and a butterfly would want to eat buttered rye, all of which are obviously ridiculous propositions. Reparata is clearly in a fragile state. Nonetheless, the carrot quiets the parrot, although I would submit that the parrot is not quiet because it is satisfied with the carrot, but rather because it is either too angry to speak or dead because, for all I know, carrots are deadly to parrots.

7. Reparata puts on some shoes, puts on some R&B, goes back to the chair, does a few things I can’t make out, and looks at the rain some more. Somehow, this sequence of events again gives her thoughts an opportunity to slip their leash, which they do, and then it’s a sustained meltdown of denial and desperate bargaining until the song fades out. We do not leave Reparata in a good place.

8. But seriously, that line about giving the parrot a carrot kills me. Man, that’s funny.

“Say What?” by The Cyclones

1. Since time began, fathers have sought to discover the best means of keeping their teenage daughters out of trouble. And what they’ve all come back to again and again is this classic two-fold solution: Forced Household Manual Labor and Threats of Physical Violence Delivered in Half-Joking Dad-Speak. 

2. However! Judging by his own words, Eddie Jones of The Cyclones does not seem to be motivated in his strictness by a desire to protect his daughter from the den of iniquity that is The Hop. Rather, as the song progresses and Eddie lists his grievances against his daughter, we draw closer and closer to the heart of the matter until, ultimately, we arrive. Consider Eddie’s grievances:

a) There are dishes that need to be washed and floors that need to be both swept and mopped. Eddie believes his daughter to be the best available candidate to take on not one, but all three of these menial tasks and he is outraged that she would ask to go to The Hop while these tasks remain undone. But I don’t believe this is the true source of  Eddie’s ire.

b) Eddie’s daughter watches too much TV. This is an absurd complaint for Eddie to bring up during an argument in which his daughter is asking his permission to leave the house, be active, and socialize. If he really objects to her being glued to the television so much, shouldn’t he be happy to send her skipping along to The Hop where there will almost certainly be no TV, this being the early 60s? How does he think she’s going to spend her time if he forces her to stay in all night? She’s going to watch TV, Eddie. But, again, this is not why Eddie’s upset.

c) Eddie’s daughter calls him “Daddy-o” instead of “Daddy.” The word “daddy-o” is objectively obnoxious, but I don’t think that Eddie is forbidding his daughter from going to The Hop because he so resents the new affectionate pet name she has for him, even if it is, perhaps, the worst possible pet name.

d) Eddie’s daughter calls him a “square” and says he should “pick up on the haps.” Now we have arrived at the true source of Eddie’s crotchety anti-The-Hop stance: his deep, bitter longing for his own lost youth. When Eddie’s alone or with people of his own age, he doesn’t think of himself as out of touch or boring or backwards. He examines himself and sees, in general, the same interesting, vibrant person he’s always considered himself to be. But when Eddie spends time with his daughter, he can’t help but see himself the way she sees him: hopelessly square and either unwilling to pick up on the haps or else, worse, incapable. And this is too much for Eddie to bear. And he lashes out in pain at his own daughter, doing everything in his power to extinguish the bright light of her carefree enthusiasm for the kind of life that he, Eddie, will never, never, never experience again.

3) I can’t be certain, but I strongly suspect that Eddie heard his daughter’s request the first time.

4) Listen for Eddie’s daughter’s hear-rending whimper after he screams “No!” at her at the end of the song. It’s either a whimper or a giggle. Either way, I’m sure it infuriated Eddie, which was, of course, its purpose.

“Watch Out Sally!” by Diane Renay

1. First things first: fantastic drums.

2. Why are there so many bad boys slouching around candy stores in these songs? Is it because they know that sassy teenage girls are hanging out there just waiting to leap at the first opportunity to infuriate their parents? Or is it because no matter how bad a boy may be, he just can’t resist a gummied worm, jellied bean, or tootsied roll?

3. As usual, the background singers are here to state the obvious, wring their hands, predict disaster, and be ignored.

4. The story progresses pretty much by the numbers until after the guitar solo at which point Sally and Tony do not die in a firey car accident, but rather Tony abandons Sally at the dance in order to take a different girl home. This is one of the rare bad boys in these kinds of songs who is bad not just by an over-protective, restrictive mother’s standards, but by our protagonist’s standards as well. Fascinating! What happens next?

5. I like Sally’s cries of indignation. Skeezy though she may be, she’s hard to dislike.

6. Now Sally springs into problem-solving mode. She needs a ride back to town. “Who’s that guy standing over there? The guy that’s giving me the stare?” Ooh, that does sound promising.

7. Here’s the really strange thing about this song, though: there’s no clear moral at the end. Usually, we either learn that our protagonist was right and that pursuing true love with a bad boy is worth the disownment of one’s square parents OR we learn that the protagonist was wrong and that getting mixed up with bad boys leads to everyone either smeared all over the road or weeping continuously for the rest of their lives. But, with Sally, we don’t get either of these things. Sure, Tony turns out to be a stinker, but undeterred by this one bad experience, Sally immediately turns to another boy who seems to be cut from the same cloth as Tony, and the last thing we hear from Sally are her exultant cries of joy as she and her mysterious new stranger speed off into the night. Are we to assume something bad is about to happen to her or not? I don’t know. Ambiguity, how rare to find you among us with intent and purpose. Is not incompetence the route by which you more often travel here?

8. So what is the song ultimately about? Well, it’s about a girl who isn’t very cautious, but some background singers think should be.

“Take Me to Your Ladder (I’ll See Your Leader Later)” by Buddy Clinton

1. I challenge you to not physically cringe within the first four seconds of this song.

2. There is a very specific time and a very specific place for background singers. Buddy Clinton’s background singers have no idea what I’m talking about.

3. Buddy Clinton has heard a lot of poppycock about the moon. He believes all of it.

4. I like how heavily qualified this line is: “‘Cause nothing ON THE MOON could be greater than a woman who’s 20 feet tall.” When your competition is men who are three feet tall, a ladder, and a bunch of gray rocks and dust, it’s not hard to be the greatest.

5. Here are the two things Buddy most loves about the giant moon-women:

A) Their ‘beautiful arms as big as trees.” This seems like an odd comparison. These women are 20 feet tall. They aren’t 100 feet tall. So, assuming that their basic proportions are similar to those of Earth women, yes, their arms are as big as some trees, but not very big trees. My arms are as big as some trees, but no one would ever use trees in general as a point of comparison for my arms. And also: arms?

B) Their “beautiful lips, like a red, red rose.” Lip redness has nothing to do with being 20 feet tall, Buddy. You can find red lips on Earth that won’t engulf your entire head when you try to kiss them.

6. At the point when Buddy reveals that he’s heard the men on the moon are only three feet tall, the full, pathetic magnitude of his fantasy begins to take shape and you, as a listener, almost pity him enough to not point out that he does not have a space ship nor will he ever have a space ship. But eventually his misguided confidence annoys you too much and you just have to say it.

7. Why do the women on the moon feel the need to declare that they have purple hair 10 seconds before the song ends? Did they forget to mention it until they were nearly out of time? Or did they want to wait for us to get comfortable with the fact that they’re 20 feet tall before they dropped the purple hair bombshell on us?

 8. And now you know what a kiss sounds like in low gravity with no oxygen.

“Ambrose (Part 5)” by Linda Laurie

1. It’s worth noting that there was never an “Ambrose (Part 1)” an “Ambrose (Part 2)” an “Ambrose (Part 3)” or an “Ambrose (Part 4).” I couldn’t find an explanation as to why Linda decided to start with Part 5. In fact, there doesn’t seem to be much explanation for any of this.

2. I did discover that Linda did the voice for Ambrose herself. Though, again, I didn’t find any information explaining why we only hear Ambrose say “Just keep walking” and we’re left to infer the rest of what he says based on Linda’s responses. If I had made this song, I probably would have included either all of Ambrose’s lines or none of them. And pretty much everything else about the song would have also been different. And the world would be poorer for it.

3. Listen, I know this song is basically mockery-proof. I tried to find an angle and there just isn’t one. All you can do is listen in disbelief and ponder the fact that this song actually charted nationally, which means it was probably played on major radio stations multiple times a day during a good stretch of 1959. Can you imagine a world in which such a thing is possible? It happened. It happened here.

“Big Name Button” by The Royal Teens

1. First things first: It’s the button that’s supposed to be big, not the name, although the name can be big, I think. The Royal Teens don’t really get into that. Nor do they give any specific guidelines concerning how big the button should be, which would have been helpful. The song seems more intended for persuasion than detailed instruction, which is understandable, I suppose, considering the stupidity of their cause. “You’ve got to wear your big name button” probably raises a lot more fundamental questions of purpose than it does questions of diameter, color, font size, etc.

2. Here’s the biggest problem with The Royal Teens’ idea for everyone to wear big name buttons: They’re really just name tags worn as fashion accessories. And I think pretty much everyone’s aware of that right from the get-go. That’s a roadblock that seems almost insurmountable.

3. The Royal Teens’ case for why you should wear a big name button is comprised of two arguments:

a) If you don’t wear one, “You’re a square and you’re really nowhere,” and additionally, “You’re a flub and you’re not in the club.” This is a completely subjective argument and it requires us to buy into The Royal Teens’ belief that a big name button is in some way essential to one’s coolness. It also requires us to agree that being in the club is desirable, which, again, I don’t think any of us are willing to concede.

Consider the following exchange: Son: “Mom, can I do something stupid and dangerous that will at best bring shame on our whole family and at worst kill me?”

Mom: “No.”

Son: “But it’s cool! Everyone else is doing it!”

Mom: “If everyone else was wearing big buttons with their names on them, would you?”

Son: “Never. I see your point.”

b) The Royal Teens want us to believe that no one will know our names unless we wear big name buttons. They sing, “When you have no button, oh, what a shame. How in the heck (which they inexplicably pronounce ‘hake’) will anybody know your name?” It’s not a good question. I’ve never worn a big name button and there are literally hundreds of people who know my name. How, you ask? Well, I’ve told them. It’s simple. More simple, even, than purchasing and wearing a big name button.

4. It may, but probably won’t, surprise you to learn that The Royal Teens are the same outfit responsible for the song “Short Shorts,” which is another of the least lyrically impressive songs of all time. I wonder if the “royal” in their name alludes to the fact they’ve only reached their level of success due to some sort of right of succession left over from medieval times. It would explain a lot.

“The Crusher” by The Novas

1. As far as I can tell based on almost no research whatsoever, The Novas are the backing band and the gentleman bellowing the lyrics is actually the eponymous Crusher, a professional wrestler from the 1960s.

2. Question: Does The Crusher call everyone “turkey-necks?” Or does he believe that only turkey-necks will be listening to this song? And if we assume that The Crusher isn’t addressing the literal necks of turkeys (not that he’s above it, of course), what is a “turkey-neck?” And how is someone who is called a “turkey-neck” different than someone who is merely called a “turkey?” The Crusher never explains. I’m not sure he’s capable.

3. I suppose it’s possible that the Hammerlock could be converted into some sort of passable dance move, but I very much doubt the same can be said for the Eye-Gouge.

4. If The Crusher really thinks it’s so important for us to learn how to do The Crusher, then maybe he should drop the preposterous voice for ten seconds and explain the dance in a clear, measured tone.

5. Fortunately, this song has been covered by some better-known bands since it was originally released, so I was able to look up the lyrics. Here’s how you do The Crusher: You put your fist on your waist and squeeze your partner’s head until she’s blue in the face. Not much of a dance, really. More of a wrestling move.

“Perfectly Proportioned” by T. & T.

1. The lyrics to this song are perhaps the best example I’ve ever encountered of “damning with faint praise.” If you were the self-conscious boyfriend of either T. or T., this song would probably turn you into a house-bound recluse for the remainder of your days.

2. There are two main areas of weakness that T. & T. have noticed in terms of your body’s proportions: 1) Your head. 2) Your figure. So, everything. 

3. What T. & T. don’t get into is how far from perfectly proportioned you are. You could be anywhere from a bit ungainly to a revolting freak who looks like a melting parking lot snow-heap wearing clothes. And if you’re that imperfectly proportioned, you might not even be wearing clothes.

4. Here’s why T. & T. think you should take heart even though you’re not perfectly proportioned:

a) “Your eyes are most sincere and (they) like it when you’re near.” These are compliments that almost seem to have been specifically designed to not take the sting out of the fact that you’ve just been told you have a weird head.

b) “At least you’re not too thin and you sure look genuine.” So your figure’s all wrong, but at least you’re not too thin. That would be a real disaster. And yeah, you look genuine…genuinely imperfectly proportioned!

c) “You may not look like them (the pretty people in picture magazines), but you’re the best (they’ve) seen.” That, my friend, is a heavily qualified statement. You should be wary of any statement that heavily qualified.

5. T. & T. conclude by pointing out that if you were perfectly proportioned, you’d be too good for them and they wouldn’t be able to keep you. I don’t know why that’s supposed to make you feel better. This seems like a pretty classic manipulation tactic: T. & T. break you down so that you feel unlovable and then they gallantly declare their love for you in spite of your myriad flaws, knowing you will never leave them because who else will ever be able to look past the horrors of your disproportional body? No one. Only T. & T. can see the real you.

“Any Friend of Henry’s” by Roni Powers

1. I usually prefer that songs not begin with abrasive jangling recorded at a higher volume than the rest of the song. This song is no exception.

2. In this song, Roni Powers plays the role of a young woman named “Shirley,” a name chosen because it rhymes with “Curly.” Curly is the name of the devious young man in the song. It seems like they could have saved themselves some trouble by just letting Roni stay Roni and making the guy’s name “Donnie,” but perhaps Roni wanted to separate herself from “Shirley” because Shirley is something of a skank, and she was hesitant to give her listeners reason to believe that she was something of a skank.

3. The way Curly says “you know” puts me on edge. I don’t know what he’s hinting at, but it has to be something sinister. Let’s hope Shirley and Curly’s mutual friend Henry is a good judge of character!

4. Roni’s giggle at 1:20 sounds one hundred percent genuine. Whether it was scripted that way or simply an inspired bit of spontaneous improvisation, it’s brilliant. It’s that kind of touch that whisks us out of our dreary, adult lives and drops us right there in Shirley’s living room where we have the great privilege of witnessing Shirley and Curly’s dopey flirtation, a scene that would be touching and charming were it not infused with suffocating tension by the way Curly says “you know” whenever he mentions Henry.

5. And then Marie shows up, Shirley tries to get rid of her, ultimately reveals that she’s never even heard of someone named Henry, and that’s our big twist. And that’s also our cue to revisit the first verse: So Curly calls Shirley and says he’s a friend of Henry and debuts his trademark “you know.” Shirley, having never even heard of someone named Henry, immediately gives this Curly her address and tells him to “come on by.” We hear the entire phone conversation. There’s almost nothing to it. On what is Shirley basing her decision to invite Curly over? The fact that his voice sounds young and possibly attractive? The fact that their names rhyme? She never wonders how Curly got her phone number. She never wonders why Curly would think she knows someone named Henry. She seems to view the entire situation not as frightening or unnerving or even risky. She views it as providential. It’s like she’s not even hearing Curly when he says “you know.” Daughters like this are why fathers sometimes have to shout.

“Sittin’ Alphabetic’ly” by Karl Hammel Jr. (& Group)

1. Karl (& Group) start things off on the right foot with their very deliberate use of apostrophes in the title. They want us to understand that if we’re looking for that “g” to be enunciated or that fifth syllable to be anything but skipped, then we need to look elsewhere because this song is not “Sitting Alphabetically.” This song is “Sittin’ Alphabetic’ly,” and if we can’t handle that, then we are squares who would probably welcome the chance to sit alphabetic’ly.

2. In the first verse, Karl (& Group) admit  the reason the entire class has been forced to sit alphabetic’ly: Karl was surreptitiously holding hands with a girl during class. So everyone is being punished because of Karl. So now Karl (& Group) are complaining about it in hyper-dramatic fashion even though it’s all Karl’s fault. Which, fine, whatever. But the part I find puzzling is that Karl was caught because he (& Group) thought the teacher couldn’t see behind “that big geography.” Do Karl (& Group) mean a globe? A map? Or do they mean the actual topographical features of the classroom? The fifth definition of “geography” on dictionary.com is “a book dealing with this science or study, as a textbook,” so maybe that’s what Karl (& Group) meant. Or maybe they just got lucky. I guess you’re off the hook, Karl (& Group).

3. In the chorus, Karl (& Group) use the following word to describe what sitting alphabetic’ly makes them feel: “agony.” That must have been some incredible hand-holding.

4. In the second verse, Karl (& Group) reveal that they never suspected that Karl’s teacher would actually follow through with her threats to seat the class alphabetic’ly, and now that she’s gone and done it, “study hall’s a study hall.” Is this meant to evoke sympathy from the listener? Because all it makes me wonder is what Karl (& Group) would prefer study hall to be. Some sort of sit-anywhere-you-like hand-holding free-for-all? Not likely, Karl (& Group)!

5. Now most of what’s being sung in the background (presumably the portion of the song handled by Group) isn’t worth noticing. But at the end of the song, they give us this gem: “P-Q-R-S-T-U-V/ Right on to infinity.” That’s a perplexing thing to sing when you’re talking about something with a very well-known, very definite beginning and end like the alphabet. Especially when you’re only three letters away from the end. The finite nature of the alphabet should be pretty apparent by the time you get to “V.” I don’t know how much creative control Group had over their lyrics, but if you’re stuck singing background vocals in a Karl Hammel Jr. song, this is not how you want to get noticed. Way to blow it right at the finish line, Group.