#ken dodd

Promises - Ken Dodd (6)

Try as I like, I fail to see why Ken Dodd was such a phenomenon. I can only assume it was because people liked him from his stage and screen work, and so went out and bought his stuff? That, or older record-buyers were suddenly struck by nostalgia every time he brought something out - but then, why wouldn't we see more of this type of stuff? Ken really is an outlier, and not in a good way.

So yes. This. It's horribly old-fashioned, by this point, the sort of thing you might have heard a full 11 or 12 years ago, carefully enunciated, wildly sentimental, kind of operatic, very earnest. Not a trace, here, of any rock and roll touches, be it in the instruments, the chord transitions, the vocal stylings. It's all rather staid and dull, at least to me. Plus this one, in particular, is mopey and miserable in a very bland, unoriginal way, with Ken singing about how promises, just empty promises / That's all you gave to me right from the start / And all your promises were broken promises / That only left me with a broken heart. Yawn. We have heard a million songs exactly like this.

There is a little touch of nastiness, after that, with the line about how now the one you kept your promise to / Has gone from you. But the interest that this creates is quickly lost as Ken, rather than tapping that unhealthy but at least interesting vein of spite and anger, then turns immediately back into a plea for his love to come back to him, please, he's begging. Very lame, very dull. On a related note, the word "promise" has also lost all meaning for me, by this point.

I'd be more forgiving, somehow, if this were a cover of something older. But it's a new song! This was written by Tom Springfield, of the Springfields, who I know for a fact could write decent stuff. So what the heck he was doing here, and why people were out there buying it, I don't know. Bad, and not even in an interesting way. I sincerely hope that is the last we're going to hear of Ken, but I suspect it won't be. More's the pity.

When a Man Loves a Woman - Percy Sledge (4)

Fortunately, we do then get some proper music, this week, in the form of Percy Sledge's classic soul hit When a Man Loves a Woman. This is a song I kind of know - though I'm mostly just familiar with the opening line, come to think of it. So it'll be interesting to see if the rest of the track stacks up.

Before we get there, though, we get an organ line that steadily moves down the scale, triplets in the background, all on the organ, in a movement that already feels classical, with echoes, however slight, for me, of Air on a G String. The tune then does diverge, a few notes in, but it's enough to set this dignified, measured tone that feels special. And then, yes, the big iconic opening line, Percy singing, sweeping and emotional, about how when a man loves a woman / Can't keep his mind on nothin' else / He'd change the world for the good thing he's found. It's a big, grand statement, but Percy sells it well - there's a distinct bluesy melancholy to his voice that suggests that this isn't all sunshine and roses, that men's obsession with the women they love isn't always for the best.

And indeed, the rest of the song expands on this idea, explaining that if she's bad, he can't see it / She can't do no wrong, and that he'd turn his back on his best friend if he put her down, that he'll spend his very last dime / Tryin' to hold onto what he needs, that he'd give up all his comforts / And sleep out in the rain / If she said that's the way it ought to be. And then things take a turn for the personal, as Percy reveals that he has a woman just like this, one for whom he'd give everything he owns. Baby, please don't treat me bad, he begs, followed by more likes about how blind men in love are, how vulnerable, how foolish in their own way - and that's it, that's the song. Honestly, I do think it feels a little pessimistic, assuming (or at least implying) that women are all out to cheat and trick men (whose intentions are good and pure and who never cheat, according to Percy). But I can buy into the idea that Percy's own personal situation might be colouring the words he's singing - that he doesn't really feel that all women are like this, that he's instead singing, in a coded way, about a specific man (himself) loving a specific woman (his love).

I do also like the sound of it, more generally. There are a few country touches, especially the steel guitar and backing oooohs, but also a lot of soul and R&B sounds, including the horns that come in towards the end, warm and gentle at first, but building as the track comes towards its end. It gives an epic heft to the whole thing, without the brass ever feeling startling or out of place. I like them a lot, they're maybe the best part of the track for me, aside from the intro and opening line.

No secrets who I prefer, here. They're both sentimental songs about lying women. But Percy brings so much more nuance and soul and a genuinely interesting sound that we haven't heard a whole lot before. It's fabulous - not necessarily a track I could listen to all too often, but it's still well done, and good to listen to. Unlike Ken's track, which was just plain dull.

Day Tripper - The Beatles (double A-side, peaked at Number 1)

The first thing I notice about this one is how nice the build-up into it all is. We begin with just a riff - and it's the riff that the song will end up based around, in the end. It's a bit like Roy Orbison's Pretty Woman opening, but is also apparently inspired by the riff from Bobby Parker's R&B hit Watch Your Step. As was the riff from I Feel Fine, incidentally, which now I know, I can kind of hear? Whatever it's based off, it's a good, catchy riff. And then, gradually, we gain tambourine, then drums, then vocals, easing you into the groove and feel of the song bit by bit, pulling you inexorably in.

And then the lyrics begin, and they're interesting, because they're on the surface about a girl who's only half-committed to the Beatles. Hence why they've got a good reason / For taking the easy way out. You see, their girl was a day-tripper, a one way ticket. They describe her as a big teaser / She took me half the way there. They tried to please her / She only played one-night stands. The innuendo in all this is pretty obvious, right? It's about a girl who's a tease, willing to commit to a metaphorical day-trip, but not a full overnight stay, if you will. She gets the Beatles all fired up and ready for love-making and then - gasp! - has the audacity not to sleep with them.

This is obviously one reading that exists. And to be honest, I don't love it. Sure, I don't think leading guys on is great, especially if you actually are deliberately being a tease. But there's no sense that this girl actively lied to the Beatles. She just didn't want to sleep with them, by the sound of things. And if you take the song on face value like that, as a song that's about being annoyed about a girl not putting out, after all the effort and time you invested in her? Well, I think if that's the case, you land at a place that, if not outright misogynistic, is at least a little bit uncomfortable Fortunately, another reading absolutely exists.

Because like Mr. Tambourine's take me on a trip line, the day tripper line is druggy as hell. The Beatles are officially, by all accounts, in their LSD era - all except for Paul, whose abstention famously caused friction within the group. Taken in this light, a day-tripper, a Sunday driver, could be somebody, a bit like Paul, who takes only the hippie life half-seriously, doing some light psychedelics on the weekend, perhaps, but not fully committing. These were people who wanted to jump on the trendy hippie bandwagon, but also wanted the 9 to 5, the wife, the husband, the house, the kids. The sort of person, in short, that John Lennon was beginning to despise.

Anyway, we get a few verses of this, then an absolutely baller solo. It's not introducing anything new, it's just the riff, played louder and rougher on a guitar, but man, does it sound good. There are all these slightly weird sounds and bits of guitar noise in the background, nothing super coherent, but it's all just surprisingly messy, leading into a big old build-up, lots of ascending vocal aaaaaahs, in a move reminiscent of Twist and Shout's aaaaaahs. In short, we've got the Beatles gearing up for "full Beatle" mode, preparing to hit you with it ... and then we're back down to earth with a bump, right back to the comparatively quiet and low-key riff as it was in the intro, and a repeat of the tried to please her lyrics. It's frustrating, a half-hearted return to the status quo right when the song getting somewhere. Which, in its own way, is brilliant, reflecting the Beatles frustrations almost perfectly.

Final thing to mention is that, exactly like I Feel Fine, Day Tripper came out with an official video. And, just like I Feel Fine, it's a beauty, just because of the feel you get that literally nobody involved knew how music videos ought to work. Which in turn leads you to the Beatles playing in an empty TV studio among what looks like construction scaffolding, while hordes of aggressively 60s mini-skirted blondes dance around the place. None of the boys are making any effort to mime in time with the music, the cameraman keeps zooming in on random hands and shoulders, John and Paul keep making weird faces at each other and forgetting the lyrics, George is glaring out of the screen at you, and Ringo's having the time of his life and also a workout. It's not the weirdest Beatles video out there, but it's still charmingly DIY and I love it.

We Can Work It Out - The Beatles (double A-side, 1)

And then, on the other side, this, a song that I recently heard played on a seaside carousel pipe organ. It worked weirdly well, actually. Which maybe shouldn't shock me, because I've always thought that this one had a folksy, off-kilter, slightly kitschy charm to it. It was apparently deemed the "more commercial" of the two tracks released together, and initially did do better than Day Tripper, both in terms of airplay and in terms of critical acclaim. But there's still a weirdness about it that catches the ear and gives it a certain appeal.

We open to tambourine and guitar, giving us a folk rock feel right out of the gates. Gone is the R&B-influenced riff of Day Tripper, and instead, underpinning it all is a quiet, slightly flat-sounding harmonium, a sort of reed organ, which gives this strange, slightly melancholy feel to it all. Which I think fits, because the lyrics are bittersweet at best. I mean, we open with Paul asking his love try to see it my way / Do I have to keep on talking 'til I can't go on? Which doesn't suggest a particularly healthy relationship. And all this is happening while you see it your way / Run the risk of knowing that our love may soon be gone. The chorus cuts in, Paul insisting more optimistically that we can work it out / We can work it out. But it sounds to me like somebody trying to convince themselves than somebody who genuinely reckons that they're going to patch it up. We then get John's contribution, a countermelody insisting that life is very short / And there's no time / For fussing and fighting, my friend. Which on the surface does feel a bit more positive, but it's simultaneously kind of existentially heavy - which is John Lennon all over - and at the end we get this line about how I will ask you once again, leading back into the try to see it my way line. Which suggests that the "life is short, let's please not spend it fighting" approach has only met with limited success.

We don't come to any easy conclusions by the end of the song, either, with the final lines pointing out that there's a chance that we might fall apart before too long, before repeating the we can work it out line again. Which is gloriously inconclusive, and there's some extent to which I think the music reflects this uncertainty, flipping back and forth between a mode (Mixolydian, but I had to look that up, I'm not a music theory person) and a minor key, giving a sense of restlessness and dissatisfaction. What's more, there's also a flip between your more typical 4/4 and these odd, heavy-handed 3/4 bars. This was apparently a George Harrison suggestion, and I know other songs of his that do funky things with time signatures too, so perhaps this was just a personal preference. But it also makes the song feel strange, lurching about and keeping you on your guard, never quite sure what's about to happen, and never quite able to settle down. I really like it, personally - I like weird time signatures at the best of times, but here it just feels like it fits the song well.

Delightfully, there is also a video! And again, it's a "live performance" type video, which means I get to enjoy watching the Fab Four fail at lip-synching in increasingly half-assed ways. We get John waggling his eyebrows at the camera, Paul making faces at John again in a (successful) attempt to crack him up, Ringo actually looking kind of depressed for once, George deciding to sit down and talk to himself for a moment mid-set and of course, lots of slightly awkward knee-bending. All of which makes for what is quite possibly my favourite kind of music video - there's just something about the badly-framed shots, the overt lack of effort being made, and the high level of goofing around, it's all very charming to me. I dunno. Go watch yourself some early Beatles videos, I'm sure you'll see it, too.

The River - Ken Dodd (3)

And then, finally, Ken Dodd. Who, let me remind you, did bag the best-selling song of 1965. So yes, putting him up here against two Beatles singles feels a bit like a joke, today. But it's worth remembering that a different Ken Dodd single outsold both of them. So yeah, he does need to be taken seriously, as a genuine contender, and not just some sort of novelty one-off. Not least because he clearly takes himself quite seriously. For a funny guy, Ken's musical output sure is earnest, the sort of conservative easy listening stuff that I'm sure grannies nationwide lapped up.

This particular track is Italian in origin, written by one Renato Angiolini as Le Colline Sono in Fiore ('The Hills Are In Flower') and translated by none other than Mort Shuman. Knowing the other things Mort Shuman has done, honestly, this feels like a bit of a come-down. This is the guy who co-wrote Save The Last Dance for Me, for goodness' sake. And now he's adapting sentimental dross like this. Because there's no escaping it, this is some sugary purple-prosed nonsense. So still runs the river, Ken sings, on its journey to the sea / So still beats my heart / For you're far, so far away from me. Yawn. Bo-rrrring.

We do get some Italian on the chorus, to liven things up, as Ken begs, amore, ritorne, presumably to add a sophisticated European gloss to it, except Ken sings it all in quite an English accent, which spoils it a bit for me. And then, back in sentimental mode, as we hit the worst part of the song, as Ken goes from singing into this breathy, half-sung, half-spoken register, telling us a story about throwing a pebble in a river, about his lover predicting that their love will grow like the ripples. They kiss, but oh, I never knew / That like the ripples on the water / Your love would still be fading, too. Bleurgh. Melodramatic, self-pitying, annoyingly faux-philosophical, and just kind of limp and lame. There is very little that I like about this. Bad, bad, bad. So bad, in fact, that I'm turning it promptly off and wrapping this entry up here.

What a week! And just in time for Christmas! I will say, I think only one of this week's records is on my Christmas list, though. And I'll give you a hint, it's not Ken's absolute stinker. Which just leaves me the two Beatles tracks to choose between. And honestly, I think I'll just have to go on gut instinct, here. Because Day Tripper is a great, catchy, well-made song, and I like how its musical structure fits with the lyrics. But there's a low-key unpleasant edge to its lyrics. Plus, We Can Work It Out has pretty vocal harmonies and harmonium and weird key changes. Which is like catnip for me. So without further ado...

Look Through Any Window - The Hollies (peaked at Number 4)

The guitar intro on this reminds me of something - but for the life of me, I can't work out what! It's nice, though, a 12-string riff that's just intricate enough to hook you, before we get some seriously high-energy drumming and a bunch of vocal harmonies that are solidly interesting. Add in some handclaps, some aaaaahs and keep the pace up, and you've got a song that I'm absolutely predisposed to like.

Lyrically, it's kind of weird, because it's not about any of the things that songs typically take as a subject - instead, it's about observing everyday life, the bustle of city living. Look through any window, yeah, they sing, what do you see? You see people hurrying around, people with their shy ways and their sly ways. There are little children, ladies in gowns, drivers, all of them movin' on their way. All of which captures the sense of a big, busy metropolis, nothing really standing still. And they're noted to have smilin' faces, this isn't a bad bustle. No, if anything, this is the day-time flipside of "hey, isn't the city cool" nightlife songs like Petula Clark's Downtown, documenting the way that London, at this point, feels like the place to be, the centre of life, in a way that's fresh and new and exciting.

It works, mostly, but I think some of that's just the sheer warmth, brightness and fullness of the sound. It's power pop, full-on and loud, equal parts rock and roll and perky pop, sweeping the listener along kind of irresistibly. I defy you to listen to this and not get swallowed up in just the sound of it all - even though the lyrics (if I'm being perfectly honest) are kind of nothing-y. The Hollies trying to go for observational social commentary, sure, but they're not really saying much beyond "wow, lots of people". And that's fine, like I've said, this one feels more like an exercise in curating a certain vibe, and less like something you're supposed to dissect and pull apart, lyrically. And the vibes? Pretty cool.

Tears - Ken Dodd (1)

This, on the other hand, couldn't be less cool if it tried. It's a cover of a song originally from 1930, and it sounds like it, with a sort of easy listening swing feel that would have felt a bit old-fashioned in 1955, let alone 1965. And Ken's delivery doesn't help matters - he sings in this melodramatic, mannered style that's not entirely dissimilar from that of the Temperance Seven, with You're Driving Me Crazy. Except they were parodying old dance band music. Ken Dodd? Well, Ken might be the real deal.

This perhaps shouldn't be a surprise. Ken Dodd was a comedian who had gotten his start earlier in the 1950s. He was a Liverpudlian, like the Beatles, but unlike them, playing gritty dockside clubs, Ken was a generation or two older, and got his start in regional variety theatre, which was basically the successor of the old-school music hall. And Ken's style was by all accounts rooted in that tradition, with lots of silliness and surreal one-liners, a prop feather duster, ventriloquism... really, just very daft stuff.

Given that, the main surprise here is that this quite an earnest, serious song, no clowning in sight. Tears for souvenirs are all you've left me, Ken croons, memories of a love you never meant / I just can't believe you could forget me / After all those happy hours we spent together. Poor dude. He's broken-hearted, it seems, after being abandoned, and is hoping that his love will relent and come back to him, let's turn our tears of regret / Once more to tears of happiness. Straightforward, if a bit soppy.

Interestingly, though perhaps only to me, the original 1930 song's melody is apparently based on the aria 'Mon cœur s'ouvre à ta voix', from Camille Saint-Saëns' opera Samson and Delilah. Which later got used again by none other than Muse on a track from Resistance, possibly explaining why the melody of this one did feel vaguely familiar to me.

That or I've heard the original before? I didn't think I had, going in, but it turns out that this was massively popular, the best-selling song of 1965, and the third best-selling song of the entire 1960s. Heck, it's the only song that reached the top 5 that wasn't by the Beatles. Which is insane to me. Like, what the heck? Who was going out and buying this nonsense? I realise that Ken Dodd was popular, but popular enough to outsell literally everybody except the Fab Four?

I think, if anything, that all of this just goes to show that the charts aren't always proof of a song actually being cool - they're purely a measure of popularity. And sure, that's often driven by what's hip and new, what all the cool kids are listening to. But the UK public isn't a monolith. For every cool kid out there buying the Hollies' latest disc, there's a mum, an uncle, a grandma, going "oooh, that Ken Dodd, what a funny man, plus he knows how to sing, not like half the bands you get nowadays". It's a conservative, nostalgic impulse, and I can't say I much like the record that it spawned, but I do find it interesting - it just seems so improbable, and so out of step with literally everything else happening around it.

Love Is Like a Violin - Ken Dodd (peaked at Number 8)

Honestly, I'm mostly surprised this track is as straight-laced as it is. Going into this, all I knew about Ken was that he was a comedian, and a bit of a household name, making regular TV and radio appearances. He was known as "the last of the music hall entertainers" for his style of quick-paced, daft, one-liner comedy, but was also a ventriloquist and yes, sometimes a singer. I fully assumed, given this, that this would be a novelty record, despite the not-particularly-novelty-sounding title.

How wrong I was! This is just a straightforward, if rather old-fashioned, ballad, with Ken singing about how love is like a violin / With its strings around your heart, and inviting his love to make my heart your violin / Play it now and tell me this / In a music of a kiss / Let me hear you say "I love you". Which isn't comedic at all. There's a bit of an awkward metaphor involved, to be sure, but it's all very seriously intended, and brought together with sweeping strings and an orchestral backing that wouldn't have been out of place much earlier in the 1950s. Ken delivers his lines with a sort of sleepy, yawning detachment, enunciating everthing very clearly in that old-school voice that we really haven't heard for a while.

Taken in the context of the rest of the charts, it feels like a huge step backwards, but I can kind of see why this would perhaps appeal to folks who had enjoyed the music of the earlier 1950s, but maybe weren't such big fans of the new rock and roll sound. "Music these days", I can imagine them grumbling, before complaining about the loss of "proper instruments", the way the singers mangle their words, the vulgarity and general youthiness of it all - no, much better something like this, which nobody could object to. Add in the appeal of a familiar face on the album sleeve - Ken already had his own TV show at this point - and I can see why people went for it, and why Ken was as popular as he was. The charts aren't a record of what was "cool" at any given time, just what was popular enough for people to buy. And sometimes that's nonsense like this.

I don't massively like this track, but I can't quite muster up enough passion to dislike it. It exists, and was clearly very popular, and I'm not going to begrudge Ken Dodd his success with it. I'm not really old enough to have fond memories of him, but I know a lot of people do - there was a huge outpouring of memories and tributes when he died a few years back, I seem to recall - and I respect his decision to do a proper serious track, rather than go the easier route and put yet another virtually unlistenable comedy song out there.