I've read all my life about the sixties, what records critics think are the best and most important. And I think those records are often held up by people who want something to explain. Note: we never have to rediscover Highway 61 or A Hard Day's Night, because they never fade. They shine brilliantly without critical spit and polish.
The following records are as good as anything made by anybody during that decade, but don't get the critical nudge.
Dion was every bit as cool as every 1950s rocker, not least of all because he was a northeasterner who had less of a gospel sensibility and more of a doo wop sensibility. And the further he traveled down his own road, the more personal his expression became. Not in the emasculated sensitive singer-songwriter sense, but in the sense of his influences coiling together in a totally singular way. "Ruby Baby" is a typical Lieber/Stoller gem, and Dion puts it across in his best 'Wanderer' attitude. He's a true rock immortal, every bit as iconic to the 50s as Elvis, and his sixties stuff for Columbia is staggering white blues.
I've mentioned this before, but Kenny Dorham set forth the template for so much of the best of 1960's post bop with his Una Mas album, of which this cut is truly the centerpiece. While Dorham had been faily known in jazz circles for a few years by this point (1963). The band would become almost Blue Note's house band. Herbie Hancock, brand new to NYC, makes his BN debut. And Tony Williams, 17 years old on this date, and Joe Henderson -- arguably the most imitated tenor saxophonist save for John Coltrane -- each/both arrive fully formed. This record is as influential as any of the decade. It set the pace for one of the most important labels during its most important decade, and its effect can be heard every night in bars where people play straightahead jazz. In short, this is still how jazz guys play jazz.
This is, simply, one of the most original songs ever written -- a highway bum with a broom sweeping floors for a place to sleep, for change, for a bite to eat. But it's far from mournful. Bob Moore provides some of the best bass playing on any record ever made. The ease of its swing, Roger Miller's lilting but deceptively skilled vocal, and a minimal but perfectly balanced arrangement... Easily one of the great singles of a period of great singles. And Roger Miller remains one of the most unique, soulful, inventive musical minds Nashville has ever set forth.
Two records that stand every bit toe to toe with the best of Phil Spector, Brian Wilson, or any of the other production giants of the golden era. Petula, with producer/arranger/songwriter Tony Hatch at the helm, delivers a record that at least ties "Good Vibrations" for complexity, nuance, invention, and humanity. Except that it's better, not least of all because it happens in a continual take (unlike "GV"'s multiple edit strategy), allowing the musicians' exuberant groove in a
