Well, actually ... no. But in my defence there is no mischievous intent in the above mock-up. I simply want to alert new readers to this blog's song-by-song survey of the Flamingos' recordings for their first two record labels, Chance and Parrot, several years before they cut I Only Have Eyes For You.
For some fans - myself included - this early period (1953-55) represents the group at their best, even if they had yet to achieve national success. The sublime Golden Teardrops, the undoubted masterpiece of the group's original lineup, was recorded in 1953, at a time when Sollie McElroy's lead and Johnny Carter's falsetto gave their sides a distinctive identity. Carter was also responsible for musical arrangements around this time, a role assumed in later years by Terry Johnson.
Johnson, who joined in 1956, steered the group towards a more pop-oriented style but the period under discussion falls into the category of what Robert Pruter terms "deep R&B doo wop". The notion of what constituted rock'n'roll backing hadn't yet been set in stone - that would become more apparent on sides for their next label, Chess - and settings tend to be bluesy or jazzy, reflecting the kind of accompaniment the Flamingos would have got in the Chicago clubs of the early fifties; on the occasional side you even hear a fairly extensive instrumental solo.
Terry Johnson became their de facto producer during an unsatisfactory stint at a fourth company, Decca, but really came into his own when the group were signed to George Goldner's End Records, where they cut I Only Have Eyes For You in 1959.
But that record is beyond the scope of this discussion. Art Sheridan, owner of Chance Records told Pruter "Vocal groups were the transition from rhythm and blues to rock'n'roll."And it's that gradual shift which you will find discussed in the posts linked to below, covering all the Flamingos' recordings for their first two labels, Chance and Parrot Records in Chicago, between 1953 and 1955.
Short extracts or summaries of posts follow. Click on any song title to be taken to the full post, complete with embedded audio of that recording and any related sides.
Cross Over the Bridge
This was originally a pop hit for Patti Page, whose How Much Is That Doggie in the Window? the group had sung in smarter Chicago clubs along with other audience-pleasing numbers. Listen to the instruments fall away as lead singer Sollie McElroy delivers the payoff to each verse: the song is a well-crafted novelty number which nods to gospel but its tricksy lyrics need to be heard to be appreciated.
That's My Desire
An exercise in emotional restraint. In comparison to later, teen-oriented, covers of this thirties song revived by Frankie Laine the mood is more tender reminiscence than hopeless desire: not adolescent yearning but looking back with a sense of loss.
Golden Teardrops & Carried Away
A vocal arrangement was painstakingly assembled by the group in private before this song was brought to the studio. As though in acknowledgement of its unique power Red Holloway and his band turn in a self-effacing performance with instruments rightly more felt than heard, though a Vee Jay reissue featured a superfluous overdubbed guitar. The original release was backed by the comic playlet Carried Away, though the performance lacks the raunch which such a story demands.
If I Can't Have You
The 1956 remake of a song the group recorded three years earlier is crafted with rock'n'roll's new teenage audience in mind but it still shows taste and restraint, and offers an opportunity to compare Sollie McElroy's original lead with that of his replacement, Nate Nelson.
Someday, Someway
As pulpit denunciations of faithless lovers go this is on the light side: maybe McElroy is buoyed up by the thought of the retribution which must surely follow. Handclaps give the song a gospel feel although the Flamingos did not have the gospel background of so many groups. But McElroy's lightness of touch is well suited to songs with a degree of wit such as this.
Plan For Love
"Doubletracked" falsetto apart, this could almost pass for a Dominoes recording. The number, drawing on stock blues phrases, is all pain, no humour - ideal for McPhatter to inhabit with his brand of agonising.
You Ain't Ready
This is a song which doesn't overstay its welcome. It doesn't really tell a story, just hints at one; it swings along, carrying you with it, and then, with an impudent stab of saxophone, stops short, and the listener must perforce unbuckle himself and place a shaky leg on the ground.
Hurry Home Baby
Words and music are credited to bandleader King Kolax, but it could have been made up on the spot, more or less. (Then again, who dast chide Big Joe Turner for a lack of verbal invention?)
Blues in a Letter & Jump Children
The players pack a considerable collective wallop on Blues in a Letter, though lead singer Johnny Carter never seems overwhelmed by the company he's keeping. Horace Palm's nervy piano adds welcome variety but overall the backing is notable more for its power than its subtlety.
With all hands on deck for Jump Children the resulting sound puts one in mind of that misreading of a musical direction by one whose fame predated swing: "pound plenty".
September Song
The players who romped through Jump Children and hammered home Johnny Carter's lines in Blues in a Letter take a back seat for much of this performance, though trumpet and saxes reinforce McElroy's lead at heightened moments, suggesting late-flaring passion or perhaps a pre-emptive raging against the dying of the light.
Listen to My Plea
Unusually for the Flamingos this number has no falsetto embellishments - just a kind of rhythmic moaning, not dissimilar to backgrounds in records by the Midnighters or the Dominoes. The group's performance here goes some way to counter the assertion that they weren't capable of "spirited anarchy" on uptempo numbers: musicians and singers sound loose and relaxed, and Carter seems in his element.
Dream of a Lifetime
Recorded for Al Benson's Parrot Records, Dream of a Lifetime is a more polished, pop-oriented production than any of the Chance sides, with no opportunities for jazz-minded musos to compete with the lead vocal; Sollie McElroy responds with as affecting a performance as any he has committed to record. Nate Nelson does a creditable job on the remake but can't quite convince us, as McElroy did, that his sense of wonder is new-minted, stunning himself with every fresh utterance.
On My Merry Way
There is no crossover potential here: the song, by Walter Spriggs, is as far removed, in subject matter and feel, from Dream of a Lifetime as you could get ... Imagine Pat Boone trying to wrap his tonsils around lines about hoodoo and root men.
If I Could Love You
Despite its being ostensibly the confession of one who "can't say a mumblin' word" this is no adolescent admission of bashfulness but a knowing and playful song of seduction.
I Really Don't Want to Know
This version of a country song doesn't quite work as a whole. The bridge's jaunty backing suggests an equanimity better suited to a more phlegmatic delivery of the song and doesn't seem to follow naturally from that introduction - a rare instance of McElroy overplaying his hand. Then again, who cares when the first half sounds so good?
I'm Yours & Ko Ko Mo
Nate Nelson does a fine job on I'm Yours but listen to the backing vocals throughout. The instrumental arrangement gives the side an added significance as a transitional record: the simplicity and directness of Horace Palm's piano playing, almost wholly devoted to driving the song forward, is starting to move the group's sound away from the "deep R&B doowop" of the Chance recordings towards the more streamlined, beat-driven, rock'n'roll backing of their best-known Chess ballads.
Get With It & I Found a New Baby
Unlike Jump Children, redolent of the swing era, Get With It is "pure rock'n'roll": more urgent, driven by bass and drums and punctuated by Mac Easton's honking sax. This could be seen as a companion piece to I'm Yours: both are beat-propelled. There is a moment near the end when the other instruments fall back and we only only the pulsating bass and drums: the engine room, as Larkin once described a similar spot in a jazz recording.
I Found a Baby is more about the combined clout of group and band. At times the unison singing resembles an instrumental riff, as though an old big band arrangement had a few parts rubbed out and the group were filling in for the absent musos ("I found a new baby ... She's my kind of baby ..."). Which is entirely fitting: much of doo wop, after all, is about the imitating of brass sounds.
That's the end of the material directly about the Flamingos but two other posts are useful for providing background detail.
Bill Putnam and Universal Recording
The technical quality of the Flamingos' Chance and Parrot sides reflects the fact that both companies used Bill Putnam's studio in Ontario Street. "An instinctive acoustician" who has been called "the father of modern recording", Putnam and his collaborators developed new methods of utilising reverb, and he engineered many doo wop recordings.
"Virtually mistake-free": a doo wop group in the studio
Bill Putnam Jr has said that his father never discussed the rock'n'roll artists who used the studio and I haven't found any stories or information online about the specifics of how Putnam Sr might have worked with the Flamingos. But Johnny Keyes of Vee Jay group The Magnificents has written an account of what it felt like to be a rookie singer in Putnam's studio, and saxophonist and bandleader Red Holloway, who played on several Flamingos sessions, has spoken about the process from the musician's point of view. Both viewpoints are presented in the above title.
The Flamingos pieces are heavily indebted to the work of Robert Pruter and Marv Goldberg. Robert's book Doowop: The Chicago Scene is a great read Marv's R&B Notebooks website is a invaluable repository of information about doo wop groups and their personnel; his page on the Flamingos page can be found here.
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