Come See About Me - Supremes. Junior always played the meanest sax of the '60s, but in this record you sense it never really gets top billing. IMO he's put out far better hits than this. The greatest Motown group ever never had that problem, and Diana's pleading, passionate cooing sure beats the pants off Walker's attempt (?) at vocals!

When Will I Be Loved - Linda Ronstadt. Like comparing a pure, Kentucky mountain stream to the most intoxicating California wine, which will you choose? Both taste great and are refreshing, but the answer is obvious. LR not only puts a potent, passionate kick into her potion of sound, she tops it all off with a wonderful bluesy a cappella coda for the finishing flavor.

Handy Man - Jimmy Jones. The other Jimmy (James) completely recast this free-spirited, happy-go-lucky, slightly goofy classic, transforming it into something intimate, soft, sober, comforting. Not complaining, but it becomes clear the immortal falsetto "comma, comma, comma, comma, come, come-a, come-a" was just not made for Taylor.

Looking Through the Eyes of Love - Gene Pitney. Bottom line: Power and pained intensity vs. smoothness and vulnerability. When it comes to the latter combination, even the youthful, handsome David couldn't in a million years outdo the Goliath, Sinatra. And as for the former combo, no classic Top 40 era singer could in a zillion outsoar The Rockville (Connecticut) Rocket. Pure and simple.

Another Saturday Night - Sam Cooke. I'll give some well-deserved points to the desperate, confused, over-the-top energy the future Yusuf Islam brought to his remake, but it must've been an awfully rough night for him in view of the constant hyperventilating he does to the lyrics. Obviously the Cat got his own tongue. On the other hand, Mr. Cooke (no, this is not Joe Gibbs typing this) had a real talent for making his records sound unspectacularly spectacular. In this one, besides his always simple, sincere but never cloying vocal I sense an almost undetectable message in the routine simultaneous beats on wood block and tambourine. Sounds strangely like the pick axe in "Chain Gang." Was Sam trying to say that looking for love and companionship is often like hard, grinding, exhausting labor? If so, nobody has done it better than he--Mr. Subtleness and Substance.

Don't Let Go - Roy Hamilton, but with an asterisk. The man behind the Theme From Shaft super-slickly reshaped and this '50s gem into one suitable for the disco and added a sweet, sticky sensuality to it that's simply irresistible, though I do find fault with the fact that his own and the backups' steamy vocals are never really loud enough to fully appreciate. The original, although not what you'd call "refined," has a unique stripped-down breathless, sweaty--almost hedonistic--infectious vitality that's perhaps unmatched in the entire rock era, and I'm not about to argue that it's not the superior version. But the 1979 remake became a big fave of mine and remains the one I like best.

Too Many Fish in the Sea - Mitch Ryder. The Marvellettes' original is nice but a bit on the loose, casual side. By comparison, Mitch and his Detroit Wheels always sounded like they were really into their material and, hey, they were '50s nostalgia several years before its time. Their raucous, tightly-produced medley hits ruled; in this one they even went and took the middle from a 1939 novelty smash. How many fish in this record can you name? Catfish, bluefish, tuna fish, halibut, eeeeeeeel!!!

Do You Wanna Dance - Bobby Freeman. I'm not knocking Bette's ultry-sultry slow dance version of unshackled feminine romantic ecstasy, but I never could get into it. Must be a guy thing. Although it wasn't featured, I have to say the Beach Boys' thunderous, frenzied Phil Spector-inspired feelgood orgy of sound is tough to beat, and I've always loved it. But even that fails to top the 1958 immortal with its tropical Latin-rhythmed piano, bongos, and Bobby's enthusiastic delivery (although the latter is not always on key). It gives me chills!

Jambalaya - Blue Ridge Rangers (a.k.a. John Fogerty). You could rightly call Fats' version more authentically New Orleans, but to my ears it's too slow and labored (even more so than Jo Stafford's early '50s million-seller). Fogerty speeds it back up and fleshes it out with his thoroughly enjoyable trademark CCR-swamp rock sound.

Goodbye Bo, me gotta go, back home to my bed-o and sleep-o.

Jeff

• RE: Double Duty Ditties: Best versions - Bob Mathers 07/26/2007 13:13:23 EDT (0)
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